/* Disclaimer: Again, I do not own Tales of Symphonia in any way, shape or form. But I am a very loyal fan. Very loyal fan. haha

I would like to thank one of my best friends, for introducing me to the game a couple years ago. When she reads this she will know who she is ;D

And now, I would like to apologize about this chapter... it was meant to add a little substance to the story, since most of it is going to be romance I figure it's got to have some exposition in there somewhere. But, exposition can also be a little boring... I'm trying to find a good balance... here's what I have so far. */

Chapter 4

Kratos honestly couldn't remember the last time he had talked to Yuan about anything other than business. He felt awkward and wondered if seeing him would even be helpful. He knew that if he turned around now, he could walk back to his own quarters without drawing attention to himself. It odd for Kratos to feel insecure like this, and he was trying to cope with his own indecision when Yuan himself approached his door.

"Kratos, why are you standing outside my room?" the blue-haired man looked slightly annoyed.

"I wanted to speak with you. Would you rather I come back at some other time?"

"Is it important?"

"No, it's not. Sorry for disturbing you." Kratos felt quite embarrassed now, and definitely didn't want to talk to the guy. He had forgotten how much he and Yuan had disliked each other in the past. All he wanted now was to escape as tactfully as he possibly could…

"Why did you come then, if it's not important?" Yuan was intrigued now at the sight of Kratos' face. He could almost sense the mana rolling off him in waves- something was definitely unusual with the usually stoic swordsman.

"I…" he had to search quickly for words, anything- "I wanted to ask if you would go down to Sylvarant and make the checkups on the Angelus Project for me."

Yuan frowned.

"Why can't you do it? It's not like you can tell me you have other plans." He laughed casually, at his own joke.

"…" He took a deep breath. "I suppose not."

"Why are you so serious, Kratos?"

He looked away, feeling anger and embarrassment harassing him. He was sure it would show on his face, and he turned to leave, glad that his hair was long enough to cover most of his face.

"Hey, wait. We're still talking here."

"No, we're done. I'll just continue going down there myself."

Yuan wasn't about to let him off just like that. He'd known the guy for thousands of years, and he never acted wishy-washy like this. Ever.

"Did you do something down there, or what? Here, come inside."

"No, I'm leaving now Yuan. Sorry I asked."

Something was definitely strange about Kratos. He seemed much more emotional than Yuan could remember him ever being, for at least three thousand years. He couldn't help but be curious to know what had changed. He knew his stuffy old acquaintance, and he wouldn't have changed on his own. He must have encountered something, down there on Sylvarant…

"Suit yourself" he muttered, as he watched Kratos walk quickly away.

"What the hell is wrong with me?" Kratos muttered, quietly to himself. He nearly bowled over a Welgaian as he stalked to his quarters.

Once there, he placed his hand on the pad to the right of his door, and watched the paneling slide into the wall on his right. He walked inside, and slumped onto his desk chair, which was the only furnishing in his room aside from the desk itself. He had a bed in his bedroom, and a sparse bathroom, but other than that he did not have much furniture- he had no use for it. The only thing Kratos did collect was books. They were stacked neatly along the sparse walls of his apartment, not in any particular order, although Kratos had memorized where each book was and always returned them to the same spots. He had never counted how many books he owned, but it was enough for him to think of it as a small personal library. There were all kinds of texts arranged in his entry room, varying from technical manuals to autobiographies, and history books. In his bedroom, there were works of fiction, which he would often read when he was in his most bored states of mind. He knew that if Yuan or Mithos ever saw them, he would be denounced as crazy, but he hated spending his years idly wasting time- he much preferred to keep up with the development of the worlds they ruled over, and in the latter part of his life he had taken to fiction as well. Kratos couldn't remember if he had ever liked reading as a young human, but it was now one of his biggest hobbies, aside from swordsmanship.

He sighed heavily, and placed his feet on top of the desk, reclining the chair onto its hind wooden legs and cupping his hands behind his head. What is the matter with me? He couldn't stop thinking, much as he might have liked to. Why do I care what happens to one human? Expheres are for the benefit of the world, they will bring peace…but Kratos couldn't finish that thought. Something about the sentence seemed almost laughable, though he couldn't place it. He tried to break everything down into the emotions he felt, and work his way back to the complexities in his mind. After several hours, he had only established two things: one, that he felt anger when he thought about the Angelus Project subject, and two, that he felt uncomfortable at the idea of going back there to check up on her. With so little information, he felt that he could not draw any conclusions from his own behavior. He felt more alive than he had in a very long time, but he was still unable to see why. Try as he did to find answers, all he could come up with were more questions.

He felt rather drained at the end of the day, and tried to go to sleep that night out of a desire to shut down his mind. When he woke up, it was late, and he found that he had slept for more than ten hours. Not that the sun had bothered him awake, though- on Derris-Kharlan, there were no days or seasons. The vast purple rock stretched in all directions, if he ever cared to look out the window. He very rarely did. There was something unsettling about living in space at first, and he began to feel it again this morning; it was a sense that he was out of place, and a feeling of uncertainty at being removed from solid gravel and foliage. Kratos had never been one for thinking descriptively, but he knew when he felt strange and he knew boredom for all the other times in between. He made a mental note of it to himself- this existence he had been enduring now seemed so trivial, and bare. He had spent the majority of his life bored out of his mind… it seemed so pathetic when he thought of himself, removed from everyday life.

Kratos called in for breakfast, and tried to think over his options. He had nothing to do for the next couple weeks until his next scheduled visit to Kvar's ranch, and he felt like he needed to make some sort of plan. He felt restless, and ruled out studying his new manual on summoning from Sybak's research academy. He felt uncomfortable on Derris-Kharlan, and wanted to stay away from Yuan while he still felt these strange ways; not to mention he was dreading another encounter with Mithos. That left very few options available to him. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more Kratos saw that his best course of action would be to return to Sylvarant, and live down there for a few weeks.

A winged deliveryman knocked at the door, and he thanked him for the delivery. The errand-runner looked slightly shocked, almost fearful, and nodded quickly before gliding away. Kratos wondered what was so appalling, and wandered into his bathroom to have a glance in the mirror. He chuckled, figuring that the man had been shocked to see his bed-head hairdo… though when he looked in the mirror, it didn't seem particularly messy. He shrugged and sat down to eat his breakfast- ham and eggs. It was Mithos' favorite food, always had been, and probably always would be. Kratos wondered why he had put up with eating the same thing almost every day of his life… either ham and eggs, or a ham and egg sandwich, or ham and egg omelets… it got rather tiresome, now that he thought about it. Not that he really felt the need to eat breakfast very often, much less taste what he was eating. Usually he would just order food once a day, and never really pay attention to what he was eating. This time though as he sat down with his tray for a morning meal, it seemed to taste particularly bland. He could barely stomach it, and considered sending a complaint to the chef.

"He probably wouldn't even know what a complaint was," Kratos mumbled to nobody in particular.

That was the thing about living on Derris-Kharlan. Nobody could think for themselves, so nobody ever tried to be considerate for others. It was a wonder work got done at all, although Kratos supposed that the highly suggestible nature of lifeless beings was the only reason they carried out their master's bidding. With no life, they had no substance, and no soul. It was true they would never argue, but…

Kratos realized he was thinking ill of world peace again, and tried to see where his reasoning had gone wrong. But he was rather surprised to realize that Welgaians wouldn't know the difference between a good meal and a piece of cardboard, and also that even if they could tell, they would never voice their dissatisfaction. That was how they were able to get along, of course; their indifference to each other, and their own lack of preference created a society in which there was no question of satisfaction at all. Everyone had what they needed to survive, and lived mechanically from thereon. Kratos felt a twinge of pity for the Welgaians living outside his door and in the community around him, but then he realized they wouldn't understand pity anyway. He couldn't correct his thinking- it was logical from end to end. He didn't understand why the discrepancy made him so uncomfortable, but he finished his breakfast hastily and drove the winged citypeople from his mind as he prepared to leave on a little vacation.