Aphrodi trudged through the snow-caked cobblestone streets. No, not Aphrodi, it was just Afuro now. The time has long passed since Afuro Terumi once played as a god. The blonde chuckled bitterly at the memory. Glasses of "holy water", the flutter of white feathered wings, the sound of goblets smashing against the ground flitted through his mind as clear as yesterday, yet at the same time like a dream he once had. How twistedly funny it was that back then he thought of the world only as his stage, and himself as a god. How he even managed to see himself as a god, he will never know, never remember. The man who he was now was far from his old arrogant, naïve, and childish self. He was a man filled with sorrow, with wisdom, and most of all, the burden of loss and a story of tragedy.

It had been ten years after the fail of Project Z, the tales of Kageyama, Zeus, and most of all, the tale of the cyborg goddess versus the Death Bringer all washed away with time. The only evidence of all of it even happening was the endless reporters who always loved to ask Afuro of his days as Aphrodi, and occasionally there would still be mentions of Kageyama whenever people talked of the players he created.

Ah, speaking of the players he created. Yes, the players who all grew up, the players who were all stars now thanks to the man who made himself the villain, yet died a hero at the very end. Kidou Yuuto, Sakuma Jirou, Genda Koujirou, Jimon Daiki, Demonio Strada, Violette Ametista, Hera Tadashi, Atena Tomo, Fideo Aldena, Odile Lucia... The legacies were countless. Everyone had moved on from that dark past quenched in the shadow grip of Kageyama Reiji. Everyone but Afuro Terumi. Why? Because he could never let go. He could never bring himself to forget her and move on.

The lights from the shops that lit onto the street gave off a merry air, yet the twenty four year old was still filled with melancholy. He smiled sadly as he saw a family happily celebrating inside one of the windows. How nicely it must be to be without the weight of the past.

After the graduating from high school in Korea, the young man had refused all invites to pro teams in Asia and traveled to Greece. There, he went to college, not for education, but for the hope of finally finding peace. From the ruins of Athens to the Greek language, it was somewhere Afuro could feel the bliss of the world and let go of the things that weighed down his life. Even after everything that happened, he still loved the Greek culture. Korea had been home, and Fire Dragon were practically his second brothers, but Korea was still filled with competitively and the pressure to succeed. It seemed that wherever he was, people always expected Afuro Terumi to be the god he was never.

Then on, he roamed the world as a historian specialized in Greece history, working to help people in the hope of recovering himself. Sometimes it seemed to sort of work, other times it was just something to keep him busy from thinking too much of the past. One day, an old friend called him back to Japan for a favor. Aphrodi was happy to oblige, once he heard of what his duty would be. He became the temporary coach of Kidokawa Seishuu, the original school of his love's killer. Surprisingly, it didn't bother him much that the Death Bringer used to walk the same halls. After all, it was still just a normal school full of students who felt lost like he was.

He walked a little further. Without destination nor schedule, Afuro seemed to be able to see the world from a disconnected point of view. It was as if he was walking through a dream where everyone couldn't see him, and he was but a spectator, like watching the world as a movie. Being an orphan, it wasn't like he had a family to go back home to. Fire Dragon was still in Korea, and all of his old friends from Zeus all had places to be. After all, it was Christmas today.

Christmas, the birth of Christ, they said. Afuro wasn't religious, nor was he an atheist either. After all, he had once thought himself to be god. He didn't particularly detest this holiday, or any holiday for that matter, but it was always a time of loneliness for him. Even after everything God had taken from him, he was still laughing, mocking Afuro.

Without realizing it, he had stumbled to a cemetery. Not just a regular old cemetery, namely, his cemetery. Perhaps that was what the blonde had unconsciously wanted to come to, or maybe it was just coincidence. Whatever way, Afuro had no thoughts whatsoever of wanting to face him again. Until he saw a little boy.

The little boy was a child of around six, kneeling in front of a gravestone. He was bawling, tears running down his red cheeks as he cried about the cruelty of the world, his mother being taken, and asking why God didn't listen to his prayers. His platinum blonde hair was matted and messy, and his golden eyes so full of sadness Afuro wanted to cry with him. He understood all of it, what the boy was going through. And the boy's appearance reminded him too much of himself when he was young, and her.

Afuro turned away. Maybe he will go visit the grave after all.

Even though he had never visited after the funeral, he still knew perfectly well where his grave was. It only took a few seconds to spot it, and then another to maneuver over. When he finally came in front of the gravestone, Afuro froze. A chill ran down his spine and paralyzed him. He couldn't do this. He couldn't.

Yet he must. He had to do it someday or another. Better off now, while he still has the courage. Taking a deep breath, Afuro stepped forward. There he crouched down. The slab was so moss covered and dusty with age that the words were not eligible. But even without it, Afuro would still recognize who this belonged to. He brushed away the lichen to reveal the words carved underneath.

Kageyama Reiji

RIP

A tear fell. Then another. A sense of relief filled his chest. He had finally done it. One weight at least, was lifted off his shoulder. The newfound lightness made him wonder what had prevented him from visiting in the last ten years.

The boy's screams had grown louder, and now echoed around him. Afuro could feel the desperation of his strained voice. He longed to go to the boy, hug him, and rock him to sleep. At the same time, he was afraid that if he did in fact go any closer, his own emotions would overwhelm him. One accomplishment was enough for today.

But for some strange reason Afuro had no clue why, it just felt right to pray for his mother here. Normally he would have preferred to go to the church where she had burned to death as parts of the old building collapsed, but that was in Korea. The young man picked a few white flowers around the graveyard, then delicately strung then together to make a flower chain.

"God bless you mother," he whispered as he laid the crown over the stone slab. Another tear fell.

He just crouched there awhile, letting this feeling of full circle course through his body, until finally he couldn't feel his feet anymore and decided that it was time he got going. As he was about to get up, the apple he had been saving from lunch rolled from his bag onto the floor. It was a golden delicious, its yellow skin almost perfectly golden, only slightly bruised from hitting the ground. If it had been anywhere else, Afuro would have picked up the spoiled fruit and tossed it in the nearest trashcan without giving it a second thought other than bye bye snack, but right now he paused. It brung back memories of her that normally would have made him retreat into bed for a whole day, but right now, it didn't seem to hurt that cut in his heart as much. Rather, it was like a faint pulse, and a sea of numbness. He smiled faintly. Three time was the charm.

For the first time in forever, he finally found his answer. It was time.

"Dear Eris. You are my one and only angel, and I have never forgotten you. I've had to wait for ten long years, trying to find the answer. But now I know what to do. I'm coming."

Carefully, he placed the apple at the base of his old coach's grave, then stood up and backed up from his work. The once abandoned and nameless gravestone now was cleaned, decorated with a flower crown and given an apple offering.

For the three people that had made his life. For the three people that were waiting for him on the other side.

With one last smile, he took out the switchblade from his pocket.

An auburn haired man clutching a bouquet of white lilies strolled through the stone slabs protruding from the ground. Every year he would come, on this same day, to pay respect to the one man who had named him once the queen of the gods.

Usually he was the only one, but today, he heard sobs. Curiously, those sobs came from the direction the man who he was visiting was buried. Shuffling faster, the scene finally came into his range of sight.

It was a little boy, no older than seven. He had a face that was intelligent in nature, but was reddened by his tears and the cold. The boy looked confused, shocked, and bewildered, kneeling in front of Kageyama's grave, clutching the limp body of an older man in his hands. And that limp body...

Hera's eyes widened. "Terumi!" he shrieked. His guttural cry stunned the little boy, who now stared at him with wide eyes, but none of it registered through his brain. All that flashed through his mind at this moment was his ex-captain, lying dead, bloody white flowers surrounding him. Hera's eyes couldn't stray from the blonde man's chest, with which a flipblade was firmly embedded, just like the statue on the stadium of Zeus ten years ago.

The only difference was that only instead, his eyes were closed, and his smile was serene. Even through death, Aphrodi had to die beautifully.

Hera dropped the bouquet, and it fell to the ground in a muted thud. Why? Why did Aphrodi do this?

That was when the offering at the base of the grave caught his eye. A golden apple. No doubt for Eris.

Slowly, Hera lifted his feet, and with one swift, angry move, stomped on the lilies. Their petals joined the fallen petals of the other white flowers, now unable to separate which was which. He picked up the accursed apple, and threw it as far as he could, until it finally fell and hit the gravestone of some other unlucky dead person. Finally, he felt the anger left him, and he collapsed on the field of fallen petals like a sack of flour.

"I would've waited forever for you, but now I guess its too late. Even after all this time, she was still the only one for you."

In Greek mythology, the goddess Eris' golden apple was said to have been the apple of discord. None could have been more fitting that what happened on Christmas that year. To Hera, Christmas was now a day of bitterness rather than bittersweet visits. And from that day on, Hera always hated white flowers and apples. White flowers, because they reminded him of Aphrodi and what happened that day. Apples because they too, reminded him of the memory. It was no matter whether they were red ones, green ones, big ones, small ones, sweet ones, or sour ones. He hated them all, but especially the golden delicious that had costed his love his life.

I'll have to say this is not my best emotional writing, but I'm still quite proud of this nonetheless, especially compared to last year's. I swear this was not meant to be like this when I first wrote it (it was supposed to have a bittersweet ending WITHOUT Aphrodi actually dying, but oops). And somehow Hera ended up being the main character in the end. I guess I just...accidentally killed Aphrodi on Christmas and ruined Hera's life as a bonus. Merry Christmas, I warned ya. Love you all~