Disclaimer: I don't own -Man
It wasn't always like this.
Running.
Hiding.
Stealing.
Surviving.
He knew it wasn't always like this. At least he felt so. After all, all he remembered was waking up in that dark, dank alley, to people hitting him, cursing him.
He never told anyone that those were his earliest memories, waking up at the age of five to abuse and not remembering a single thing of the years before.
Even after he met his adoptive father, who was sofamiliarIknowthatface, who taught him an even more familiar code songthatechoedinhisheadwhowasthatsinging?, he never told him. Even after meeting that womanizing idiot of a Master who he felttheneedtokickintheballsandyellattheidiot, he never said a thing. Even after meeting his new friends and family, he never told them. Even on the run once again, branded as a traitor but with some of his friends chasing after him, he never said a word about his lack of a true past.
But doubts about the truth began to surface. One said that he was younger than he should have been. A promise was mentioned, made between the both of them, yet he did not remember. His Master mentioned his role in the war, as a simple vessel. He knew that this was not true for some odd reason.
Then the truth itself surfaced. While on the run, the threads that kept his past and his connections hidden had begun to unravel. One he thought dead was alive, and was his greatest enemy. One he saw as his enemy, was in truth a friend from his long forgotten past.
Even as the events kept going, all he could do was to look forward,
And keep walking.
This oneshot had been siting in my thumbdrive for who knows how long. I think I wrote it while I was feeling real down because this feels a little angsty.