The little boy blinked and wiped his dusty face with his sleeve.

He wouldn't cry.

No.

It would be... no use.

No more home.

No more family.

Just... ruins, ashes and cold.

And... something was glittering on the ground, dimly.

He crouched down.

A tarnished coin. He considered it thoroughly.

One ruble.

Star... Hammer and sickle...

He clenched his small fist around it.

"It's no use tossing a coin, Illya." His father's voice echoed in his mind, "You can rely on reflection, knowledge..." He had tousled the blond hair, "You can rely on your instinct, but never rely on chance."