Author's Note:

Standard Disclaimer applies. Everything still legally belongs to Amano-Sensei. I apologize for my truly undeniable absence from this piece of work. I haven't died-so I fear I cannot claim that reason, at least not yet.

Just distracted really badly I suppose. Immersed in so many readings and new animes and books and things that I don't really know how to marshal my thoughts into something that would fit this world that I penned for you. Frankly I am still surprised that it has garnered readers. One of those mysterious things I could never figure out.

I also made a few tweakings of the other chapters which I will post when I make the one following this. I have that other chapter coming up soon. And honestly, I do mean soon… I want to thank all those that patiently waited and those that newly discovered this tale—many thanks and my eternal gratitude.

ROOFTOP REVELRIES

"Strange things blow in through my window on the wings of the night wind

And I don't worry about my destiny."

Carl Sandburg

It must be the cold air…else it could be the result of fear, hunger and exhaustion I've forced to deal with since earning the nickname "no good' and chased all the way back to school by those bullies that I'm now having some advanced form of hallucination that would probably earn me an extended visit to the psych ward of the hospital or the nearest therapist. Either way, I'm pretty darn sure that I wasn't normally this brave. Or this stupid.

But I was determined to find out more about the strange toddler that stood there so still and so cool—so seemingly unaware of the danger that he was in. I wanted to drag him off that ledge and give him a stern talking to but something stopped me. Some indefinable aura that marked him as not being totally what he appeared to be… an air of being older than the barely two-year-old visage I see before me…somehow I knew that he wasn't completely a baby—not really but how I know this would take hours to explain and I am only nine. I might not have the right words—or enough words.

My eyes saw the thin, compact body that seemed too delicate to withstand even the weakest breeze. The tiny dark suit hung from a frame that was ridiculously straight and firm for someone of that age. Wiry arms and lean muscles wrapped around long, lanky arms that belied the inhuman strength that it, in all probability, generated on command. I wondered at the power that enabled him to drag a being easily thrice his size. I stole a quick glance at his hands and felt a flutter in my stomach. They were stained…with what, I wasn't that foolish to ask myself. Self-preservation was a lesson I learned and paid for with a heavy painful toll and it was one I will never take for granted. Something about this baby tells me that the more I learn, the harder it would be to escape unscathed and I wasn't sure I was ready for another lesson that might leave scars once more. But my eyes refused to stay still though and as long as he didn't expressly forbid me, I wanted to study him a bit more. After all, what are the odds I'll meet another baby quite like him again?

On hindsight, that should've tipped me off right there and then. Fate never really like being tempted. It yields so well when idiots offered themselves up for a fall. It was like I set off a chain of events that would later make me want to hit my head when I remember this night.

He was tall for his age though, with a proud carriage and easy graceful stance that seemed so out of place in one so young…his posture almost haughty as if secure in the knowledge that he was master of all that he surveyed and everyone around for miles were his for the taking. I wanted to laugh at his air of superiority but something stopped me. Somehow I knew that mocking him would bring me closer to the mouth of the devil than any other thing I could think of. Certainly it might bring me closer to death than anything that has ever had before. And connoisseur as I was of pain, humiliation and torture—I'm pretty sure he would make all the bullies in my school like spineless ragdolls in comparison.

The pale illumination of the surrounding building was enough to reveal the color of his hair or skin. Though his eyes glittered unnaturally in the murky darkness of the rooftop I was able to determine more than the fierce, almost untamed look in them. There—lingering within their dark depths an almost amused, probing look that surprised me.

So I asked the first thing that came to mind.

"You lost?"

I realized the inanity as soon as the words escaped my lips and if I could've managed it, I would've dropkicked myself. There—in front of me was a suit-clad baby standing indifferently from the ledge of four-story building like it was nothing and the first thing I asked was if he was lost! Could I really get any more pathetic? No wonder people call me "no good"! The baby would probably think I'm crazy and go away.

Then the most unusual thing happened. I noticed an almost imperceptible softening in his hawk-like gaze. It was as if the simplicity of my inquiry eased some faint tension that lingered inside of him, braced as he was for something a lot more intrusive or blunt. He answered my question in his soft, lilting baby voice with ease if not good humor. Somehow the questions kept pouring out; normal everyday conversations that paid no mind to the questionable stain that plastered his entire form or the creature that huddled motionless at his feet. I suppose I could blame my youth for my apparent obliviousness but for all his bluntness I didn't really find him all that frightening or bad.

It wasn't until I asked the final one that I began to realize the unusualness of my current predicament: I was a nine-year old kid having a discussion with a baby that looks like he hasn't celebrated past two years old; one that apparently has no qualms or problem standing on ledges and dragging along a dead-looking young man. His next words made me wonder if he could read minds too.

"If you're wondering if he's dead, I can tell you that he isn't. Not yet at any rate."

I could've carved ice with the sarcasm that practically oozed from his tone. In some ways it was like he was daring me…testing for my reactions and seeing how I would respond to the things that he would say.

Sneaking a glance at the figure that lay prone at his feet, I realized that the unlike my initial estimation, the figure wasn't exactly a mountain of a man, merely a man seemingly wrapped in some sort thick, padded outfit that created the illusion of bulk. My eyes fell on the frail pale wrist and the tracks of the same brownish stain that marked the unusual baby standing so still in front of me and realized that the poor figure was definitely in poor shape.

"Well, he doesn't look very alive either. Maybe you overdid it a bit much. I mean, if you wanted to ask him a question and he ran, you could've just called. Maybe you surprised him or something."

This time the derision was thick enough to serve on top of my morning toast.

"Is that what you think?"

No, that's just a random thought bubble I thought I might indulge. I shook my head and wondered were the scathing words popped out from. Sometimes even my own thoughts could be so alien to me. I decided to rein in my wayward inner monologues and settle the matter at hand.

"You really didn't have to hurt him you know…"

"Huh. Don't fret, it will live…I wouldn't get paid otherwise."

"This is—a job?" I asked incredulously, unable to stop my rising tone. The notion of hunting people for something so simple as 'asking them question' seemed a seriously frightening prospective to my nine year old psyche. His response however caused me to blink and wondered if he was even serious.

"Hell…yes it's a job. You think I'd do something so troublesome and petty because it's just plain fun? Please."

"Fun? How can hunting—people like him be fun? You just need some answers, that's all, right?"

"Some of the time. Sometimes people want me to find things, sometimes they want me to lose things, too."

I knew I was gaping like a stupid guppy with every word that comes out of his mouth but I couldn't help it. I mean, seriously, what was wrong with this baby?!

"What about him? What did you want to ask him anyways?"

"Something so simple it was stupid to even bother running. Why don't you try asking him yourself?"

"He isn't even conscious!" I flared and he simply cocked an eyebrow at me annoyingly before looking down at the figure that thus remained silent throughout most of our exchanges. I watched as he pulled the bedraggled young man into a sitting position while he casually dropped onto the ledge, sitting with his legs swinging idly as if he simply sat on a park bench. With a strong tug and a sharp twist of his wrist, he murmured a word in his surprisingly sweet lilting voice that's chilling enough, I think, to convince even the dead to awaken.

"Risvegliare."

I watched as the battered eyelids twitch and flutter before bloodshot eyes of unrecognizable shade opened and forced itself to focus before closing once more in obvious pain. Pale, bruised lips moved weakly before a sigh echoed loudly in the pervading silence. After a moment, the young man lifted its chin, revealing pale silvery strands, a sharp angled face. A labored, wheezing breath or two later and lids fluttered open again and I found myself pinned in place by a cold teal-colored gaze.

"There...it's awake. You can ask him any question you like. If you're lucky, he might even answer you."

Some days it really doesn't pay to be bullied. I never realized there would come a day when I would actually miss the bullies and the taunting of my classmates. At least with them I knew exactly where I stand and what's going to happen 99% of the time. Every encounter I've had followed some pattern I can at least follow. It's a beating, an insult fest or another endless list of chores that I needed to accomplish with the implied 'or else' clause. I just wish I knew where this particular munchkin and his surly 'job' belonged to…