Well, hi there! It's me again! First of all, I want to thank everyone for reviewing and commenting on this story, whether it was on here or the Ushi no Tane forums! I really do appreciate it; it makes me feel so awesome when I get a really nice review.

Now, I'm going to warn you here…this chapter is really long compared to Childhood. This chapter is about…twenty-five pages, and over ten thousand words…Even I didn't expect that much from my notes! But it just sorta happened, I guess, so make sure you get some snack cakes or tea or something so you can enjoy this chapter! A lot of questions are gonna be answered, though, the most important one being how Steiner got his obsession of sorts for curry.

If you like it, feel free to drop a review and I'll try to get back to you, forums or this site alike!

Also, I know I probably don't have to ask for this, but I hope I can get another 3-4 reviews on the site before continuing. Thank you so much! :D

Okay, I'mma stop making this longer than it already is…

Stages of a Thief

Chapter Two: Adolescence

Among entering the city, every single image the young boy had been given by others quickly faded into thin air, as they were all lies; crowds upon crowds of people were all walking together in large clumps along the paved sidewalks of Flower Bud, almost as though they were all army squads who'd lost their way as they traveled. Trying to make his way onto the sidewalk, the shivering child shoved his way through the crowds.

"Watch where you're going, kid!"

"You're not in the right lane!"

"Are your parents even with you?"

Those, of course, were common every day as he tried to find a life for himself. To avoid the crowds, the young boy soon memorized every alleyway, stealing even the smallest slice of bread when he could to sustain himself. Eventually, he couldn't leave the alleyways anymore, as the crowds only got bigger each coming day. He'd made a small home for himself behind an old bistro-looking restaurant. The chef always left from the front door, he'd noticed, so it was easy to find large scraps of food in the back almost anywhere without the man even noticing.

Until one day, finally, the chef left the restaurant from the back door upon noticing the shortage of food. He was a homely man, short and stout, with some stubble left on his face. Once he'd finally noticed the boy sitting there shivering, the issue of who was stealing the food became nothing; the man looked as though someone had died right in front of him and ran towards the homeless child. For a split second, the boy was reminded of his father.

"Need any help there, little one?"

The child could only nod to reply; he was too cold, too famished to utter even a 'yes'. He reached out to the man's hand, and, happily, there was finally warmth: something that he'd hardly ever felt in this city. As he grabbed it with the last of his strength, though…The old man changed before his eyes in a split second: only Klaus remained.

"When I find you, boy…You're dead."

The words only repeated themselves; the young boy couldn't let go of the hand that was clutching at his wrist. He could only scream and cry to stop, until finally…

"N-No!" Steiner screamed; his eyes were shot open by the nightmare. Cold beads of sweat dripped down his face as he gasped for breath. He looked around at his surroundings, making sure that he was absolutely positively back in the real world. His room looked about the same as it always did: the bed that he lay on, (that, strangely, had a white leopard print comforter for as long as he could remember…) the little nightstand tucked away with the lamp to the left, the clothes drawer, and a rather large mahogany bookshelf on the other side of the room near the door, filled to the brim with his favorite childhood stories and fairy tales of princes and princesses. He relaxed; this was his real room.

"Just a dream…" Steiner muttered to himself. He looked at the clock hanging on the wall: 5:03 AM, it read.

"Guess it's time to get up, anyway," he replied to himself, expecting no answer. To his surprise, though, his 'father' figure of sorts, the same man who took his hand in his dream, had opened the door.

"Ah, Steiner," the man began, "time to—oh, you're up already?"

"Hehe, yeah…It was one of those nightmares again," explained the teenager, still trying to wipe the last beads of sweat off his brow.

"Again…?" the man asked, worry written on his face, "That's the third time this week…Ah, well…I'm sure they'll go away soon enough, kid. Anyways, I should start cookin'. You want waffles today? I finally got the old iron working!"

"Sounds good," Steiner nodded, his worry disappearing to its last bits, "Thanks, Armand."

"Sure thing, Stein," Armand replied, a faint, yet tired smile crossing his lips. For all of these years of taking care of Steiner, Armand had never changed one bit, despite the many changes that happened to the both of them during the years. It was this, Steiner thought, that made living with Armand so enjoyable. As soon as he was finished with what he'd said, he turned back around, closing the door behind him.

Once Armand was gone, Steiner quickly changed out of his old pajamas and into his usual attire: a fetching black shirt, along with some purple jeans he'd bought recently to match. Sure, it was the dead of winter, but he had gotten used to the cold of Flower Bud City and didn't want to wear even the lightest coat. At this point he was almost confident he didn't even need to wear a shirt. The city girls would probably swoon for him all the while, he knew.

But…he also knew Armand would have his head on a silver platter for that. He chuckled as he walked out of his room ready to go, wondering what exactly Armand's face would look like as a result of that predicament.

Of course, he was so busy laughing to himself that he didn't see that his foot was about to hit smack-dab into the bookshelf.

"Augh!" he cried as it hit. He swore once out of pain…but things like this happened, he supposed. The only thing that didn't usually happen was a loose book falling out of the shelf, and, luckily enough, one did today. As it hit the ground, it opened to one of the last pages of Steiner's favorite childhood tale, "The Thief Prince". He smiled; it had been quite a long time since he had rekindled the memory that certain story. Kneeling down, he quickly scanned the page that had been opened to him.

"'I promise you, my princess,' the prince said, 'That, though I may have my share of secrets, I swear upon my good name that I will love and protect you no matter what stands in our way.'

Upon hearing these vows, the princess smiled and kissed her groom. The ancient lake that stood before them began to glow, as if to give its blessing to the newlyweds, and the two forever lived happily."

"Hehe…" Steiner whispered to himself, smiling sincerely, "I can see why I liked this one." He took a look at the page one more time, basking in memories until he'd heard Armand's voice calling him down for breakfast. Quickly, he tried stuffing the book back in the bookshelf, although the stories were so packed together that he couldn't even fit it in...Trying to save time and worry later, he placed the book on top of the shelf, turned off the light to his room, and headed for the kitchen.

When he entered the kitchen, the waffle smell that Steiner was expecting…well, it wasn't exactly what he was expecting. It smelled more like a failed dish to him. (Though he didn't want to tell Armand that!) Nonetheless, he sat down to the card table with a hearty appetite, hoping that he could get lucky and pick one of the less burnt waffles.

As he sat down on one of the folding chairs with the plate of semi-burnt Belgian waffles, syrup, and silverware in hand, Armand turned his gaze to the boy and smiled, "Well, uh…I dunno if this'll be as good as them fancy waffle irons our restaurant has, but, hey! It's gotta be better than nothing."

"All right; I'm looking forward to it," Steiner replied, trying to grab a fork and an un-burnt waffle as quickly as he could. As soon as he cut it into a small enough piece, he popped it into his mouth, hoping for the best for Armand's sake.

"Well?" Armand asked, eyes of curiosity staring his 'son' down, "How is it?"

"Uh, it's--" he swallowed, "Hehe, it's not too bad, actually."

"Phew!" the old man sighed with relief, "That's good. I wanted to make breakfast a little special today."

"Hm?" Steiner asked, head tilted, "What's the occasion?"

"You don't remember, Stein? It's been five years exactly since the day I found ya. I hear it's even gonna snow a little later today just like that day."

The boy stared out the small kitchen window across the room by the sink. Armand sounded about right; the sky was always the same dreary grey all across the sky when it was about to snow.

"…I'd almost forgotten," Steiner replied almost solemnly, "I hated living on the streets back then. I was scared to death, especially when there were so many people that I couldn't leave the alley…"

"But there's no need to worry now, is there?" the old man smiled, taking both empty plates to the sink, "Ya got a good home, good food in your stomach, and a good future ahead of ya!"

"…Armand, I'm not sure how being a dish washer at your restaurant will bring this future you're talking about."

Upon Steiner's saying that, Armand bellowed with laughter.

"Nah, silly, not that! The chef training I'm givin' ya! Once you've mastered the art of cooking, you'll be living a life of adventure! And don't forget, girls love a guy who can cook!"

"Ah, that's right…!" Steiner chuckled as he pushed a stray piece of his hair behind his ear, "Hehe, I must still be half asleep…Sorry about that."

"No worries, no worr--" Armand was about to say, until, oddly, his face lit up with shock, "Oh, geez! You reminded me!" From there, Steiner's look was one of puzzlement.

"I-I forgot; we gotta go to work a bit earlier today. I hired a new sous-chef the other day and we were supposed to meet him!"

"Wh-what?" Steiner asked, now a bit worried, "Do we even have the money to pay him, Armand?"

"Steiner, Steiner, Steiner," repeated the old man, patting the boy on the shoulder, "The best part is that he's glad to be working for docked pay. It's sufficient enough for him, and it's sufficient enough for us, which is great, 'cause that kid's a culinary genius in the works, let me tell ya."

"R-really?"

"Oh, you bet, Stein! Kid's 17—just like you—and he's already an amazing cook. I forget his name, though…ah…Chi…Chi-somethin'. Says he got this new idea for a dish at our restaurant. It's just what we'll need to get back in business." for a moment, Armand took a look at the little clock that he'd put on the counter, 5:30, it read.

"Crap, we gotta get there, like…now," the man replied to himself, "Stein, c'mon, we gotta go. I just washed your apron; take it on the way out."

"Sure thing," the boy nodded, and, as he was told, grabbed his clean-as-a-whistle apron, and rushed out the door with Armand, eager to meet the so-called 'culinary genius'.

Steiner and Armand had gotten lucky: the snow had been holding itself in for their walk to the restaurant. It was about a half-an-hour walk to Armand's small eatery on most days when they couldn't afford to pay for the bus; Steiner had always described it to his 'father' of sorts as "hellish" in both summer and winter. Today had been no different, despite the lack of snow.

When they'd finally walked for what seemed like an endless amount of blocks, there was always the restaurant's sign that made both of the cooks feel at ease: "Armand's Bistro", it read. However, something stood out as different to Steiner on that day: a figure stood at the kitchen door where the two had always entered in the morning. As they neared it, he realized it must've been the new sous-chef.

Near the door, the figure of the boy was as clear as day: sandy-colored hair that curled at each end, with three little barrettes to keep some strands away from his face. His eyes were a deep purple, though at that moment they seemed to be filled with fear. And, of course, he wore the basics for a cook: a plain white button-up shirt, black jeans, an apron, and…sandals?

"Aha, there ya are, kid!" Armand cheered, waving to his new employee, "Sorry we were late."

"N-not a problem, chef," the boy replied. Steiner knew that kid was as nervous as heck, his hands had been behind his back, and, from what he could tell, were shaking. (Though, having sandals on in the dead of winter might do that to you, too!) Once he'd finished, Armand turned a bit, his gaze on his 'son'.

"Ah, right! I should introduce you two, shouldn't I?"

"I'll take care of it, Armand, don't worry. Just unlock the back door before we freeze to death…"

"Haha, you're just a wuss, Stein!" Armand replied, (hopefully kidding) as he headed towards the door while digging through his pockets for the key at the same time. During that time, Steiner couldn't help but feel as though he were always being stared down by the new sous-chef. Their gazes did meet a few times, but it was always the new guy who turned his attention back to the sidewalk. Steiner was actually quite shocked when the boy had held out his hand for him to shake.

"It-It's nice to meet you," began the boy, a nervous smile across his face "The name's Chihaya."

"Likewise," Steiner simply said, shaking Chihaya's hand in return, "I'm Steiner."

"Have you been working here long, Steiner?"

"5 years, now," the silver haired boy explained, "It's a bit hectic at first, but we don't get too much of a crowd, so I'm sure you'll get used to work here sooner than most places."

"Ah…" Chihaya breathed a sign of relief. Steiner even thought he'd seen his new acquaintance's hands stop shaking, "That's good."

Before the duo could say anything else, a faint 'click' sound was heard; Armand had finally gotten to open the door.

"Alrighty, get on in there, you two!" the old man bellowed, giving the ever-nervous Chihaya a rather rough pat on the back, "Wouldn't want Charlie here to freeze to death before even startin' the job, now, would we?"

"Uh, it's Chihaya, sir," the sous-chef politely corrected, as he ran in the kitchen, Steiner behind him. Armand could only chuckle at that, and Steiner knew exactly why. He'd figured he'd let Chihaya know about Armand's love of nicknames later.

When the restaurant opened its doors at 8 AM sharp, a moderate bunch of customers flowed right in and out for the 'before-work' hour, as Armand called it. The majority of the items on Armand's menu were breakfast specials of all kinds from around the world, ranging from the basic rice and noodles combo to the restaurant's well-known (and healthy) applesauce pancakes. For fifteen years it had, apparently, been a relaxing place to go for businessmen and women before their day at work.

Once the crowds had ordered, the restaurant became the 'hectic' that Steiner had mentioned. The somewhat cramped kitchen air grew hotter and thinner by the minute from the rows of ranges, heating anything from soups to pots of oatmeal. Though they weren't for him, loud commands were heard, thrown out from the chef to his subordinate. Considering the fact that Armand was a happy-go lucky man, his 'son' had known that he'd almost changed entirely when focused on his work in the kitchen. He stirred the batters with lightning speed, pouring them into the frying pans with the same agility. Someday, the boy dreamed, he would be just like that man.

As usual, the post-breakfast hour had always been a pain for Steiner from the day he started working at the restaurant. Every day, the dishes only piled higher and higher; it usually took until right before the lunch hour for the piles upon piles to get finished up.

Fortunately, today was different. Once a majority of the crowd had cleared and about a third of the dishes were done, an extra set of hands reached into the waters of the soaking plates and grabbed as many plates as it could in once hand, while a sponge was clutched inside the grasp of the other. Out of curiosity, the youth turned his head to find Chihaya scrubbing away at the dishes he'd grabbed.

"The chef said the breakfast hour's clearing up," the sous-chef began, putting his plates into the clean pile and grabbing more, "So he said I should try to help you."

"Hehe, thanks," Steiner replied, a smile across his face. Upon hearing that, Chihaya only nodded; the dish washer noticed a small blush on the sous-chef's face. The kitchen, Chihaya thought, wasn't a place for thanks, but here he was, being appreciated, a rare event (or so he was taught) through the hustle and bustle.

"N-no problem," the blonde muttered after a few moments. From there, the two spoke rarely until the dishes were done, after all, both of them knew that Armand would kick them right out if they were to idly waste time.

To his surprise, the lunch rush came as swiftly and demandingly as it had left. About 10 groups of customers came in, almost all at the same time. None of them seemed to want much, only some coffee and the occasional appetizer. Other than that, they quietly left their tips on the table, and, almost as though it was rehearsed, they all left in an orderly fashion. Upon noticing the fashion the groups had left in, Chihaya couldn't help but sheepishly ask Steiner what "crawled up their butts and died".

"That'd be the gang from the Darshanick office down the street. Apparently, they're some huge corporate mining biz, and you can't get into their offices or anything 'less you work there," Armand explained, overhearing the question. At the response, Chihaya looked as though he was about to jump. He'd hoped he wouldn't get fired for his boss hearing that question.

"Haha, don't worry, boy," the old man chuckled, turning to the dishwasher, "Stein there asked me the same question back when he was just a kid. For some reason, they just have this orderly way of walking. No idea if it's their job or their boss or somethin' else, but they just all come in and leave just like that every week or so. Weird stuff, eh?"

"Sounds like something out of a horror story," responded the sous-chef, a bit of a shiver running down his spine.

"Hehe," Steiner laughed, "you'd think that, but you'll get used to that, too, eventually." At that, Chihaya just shrugged and rolled his eyes.

"I can only hope," he replied almost sarcastically. From there, Armand walked over to the other side of the kitchen, taking a gander at the little clock.

"Y'know, you two, I'm almost positive we're not gettin' any more customers 'til 3 or so, and it's only about 1:30. How's about you two get yourselves somethin' to eat while I clean this place up?"

"You're sure, chef?"

"Positive, Charlie. Now get outta here, will you?"

"Uh…sure," Chihaya simply said as he nodded. He was still a bit confused as to why the chef kept addressing him as Charlie, but he went with it anyhow. As he headed towards the kitchen's rear door, he began to untie his apron, leaving it on one of the coat hangers as he did so. Steiner soon followed, but was grabbed at the tip of the shirt by Armand at the last second.

"Hey, Stein," the man whispered as he made sure the boy was paying attention, "Give the kid some good company, will ya? I hear he just moved here; he probably needs a good friend."

"…If you say so," Steiner whispered back, shrugging slightly. He wasn't exactly all too keen on the idea; since childhood it was hard for him to befriend new people. As he looked back, he hadn't had many friends in his life besides his older brother. Then again, he thought, it was Armand's request. He didn't—and never—refused any request of the man who took him in. With some reluctance, Steiner followed back again, catching up to the blonde.

As the two made their way to the crowded sidewalk, Chihaya asked the inevitable: (for him, at least.)

"How come the chef's so intent on calling me 'Charlie', anyway?"

"Hehe, he likes his nicknames, I guess," the silver-haired boy replied, "When I was a kid he always insisted on calling me 'Stein.' He still does to this day."

"Oh. It's just a habit, then?" asked the sous-chef.

"Yeah," Steiner answered, "But he'll only call you by a nickname if he trusts you. I'd say you should rest easy."

Surprisingly, Chihaya breathed out a sigh of relief.

"I-I'm glad…"

"Hm?"

"I know this is my first day and all, and this'll probably sound clichéd to you. But…I'm really scared. I've never really had a job like this, so I got kind of nervous. I could hardly sleep last night and--"

Steiner could only crack up laughing at his words.

"What?! What's so funny?!"

"N-no, I-I'm sorry—" he broke into laughter again, but calmed down, "I've just never seen anyone that nervous before. Especially around Armand."

"Well…weren't you nervous when you started working?"

"I was twelve when I started working there, as a dish washer, no less…But, even if it were a real job as a chef, I think you should just take it at your own pace. I don't really think there's a need to be nervous; Armand's a good person."

Chihaya's eyes widened. "...You're sure?"

"Hehe, yeah," the boy said, smiling, "If you're worried, just let Armand and I know. We'll try to help you."

"Thanks, Steiner," Chihaya began, returning the smile, "You…you're a really good person."

"N-not really," Steiner denied, a slight blush on his face from embarrassment, "I just made that up as I went along."

At that, the two laughed, their conversations growing more and more with each passing block. Before they knew it, they'd been occupied enough with talking that they passed the restaurant they were heading to, and, instead, set their course for Chihaya's apartment. He'd wanted to repay Steiner for his kindness in, right then, the only way he could: cooking.

As they entered the rather old looking apartment building, Chihaya headed towards the staircase and ran up as though he were alone; the only thing Steiner could do was follow. Up they went through the linoleum room of staircases, floor after floor, until finally, a door labeled '7' stood out from the cement brick walls, the golden number on the door almost bright enough to greet the two.

"Alright," Chihaya said, turning to Steiner, "All we have to do now is make a left after we go through this door, and we'll be there." And, just as he'd told the silver-haired youth, the door was there once they'd made the left through the entrance to the seventh floor. It was a card-key door—pretty high tech for this building, Steiner thought—it was locked until the young chef took a small card out of his pocket and slid it through the door's slot.

"It's a bit messy right now since I just got here," the sous-chef explained as he opened the door, "But make yourself at home."

It was indeed a simple, yet comfy apartment; sans the cardboard boxes scattered here and there, the basics were spread out: To the left a kitchen, along with a cherry wood table and chairs to match. To the right, a red sofa (which looked like it had seen better days) and an average-sized TV. There was a hallway going down from the main room, as well, probably for the bedrooms, but there was no need to worry about it. After all, Chihaya had only just moved into the place.

"I'll get started on lunch…" said the blonde, rushing to his cabinet to see what ingredients he had, "Is curry okay with you?"

"…Curry? I've never had it before." At that response, Chihaya could only turn his head to the boy and gaze disbelievingly.

"Never? In your entire life?"

"Hehe, never."

"…You'll like it; it's kind of spicy, though."

"That's fine with me," replied Steiner, pulling up one of the chairs. At this point he just wanted to eat and get back to the restaurant; it was already getting to be around 2:15, and Armand hated his staff (or lack thereof) being even the slightest second late. Chihaya had managed to cook the curry just in time, thankfully, and it was on the table in a shorter amount of time than his co-worker thought.

"Okay, enjoy!" the sous-chef cheered as the two plates of curry were set on the wooden table, "I put some orange zest in there for a little extra flavor…But other than that, it's just curry."

Grabbing the fork, Steiner picked up some rice with it and dipped it into the orange-ish colored sauce. He was a bit reluctant at first; he'd never seen anything so strange as curry before, not event at the restaurant.

Little did he know, once he'd savored it in his mouth and swallowed…

"Ch-Chihaya," the boy said, almost monotonously. The look on his face was blank, and it only made Chihaya worry.

"What is it?" asked the blonde, "D-Do you not like it or something?"

"…This is…this is amazing!" Steiner cried, his eyes wide. At that very second it almost looked like the boy would fall out of his chair due to the sheer look of awe on his face as he stared at the simple dish.

"It's just curry…" said Chihaya, a bit frightened by the boy's…sheltered-ness, as he might call it, to the food.

"N-no, I mean…It's perfect! Armand and I have been looking for something just like this! If we put this on the menu, I'm almost positive we'd get five—no—ten times the customers we're getting now!"

"…What, is curry unheard of in this city or something?"

"Well, I've never seen anything like it for as long as I've lived here," Steiner continued, thinking a little, "But I'm sure Armand and I can dig up the ingredients from somewhere, right?"

"I…guess…" At this point, Chihaya was still seventy percent clueless as to what was going on, but tried following anyway.

Steiner continued explaining his plans to Chihaya as to what types of alterations he had for that one little dish. The sous-chef was amazed at the ideas that a dish washer, no less, pondered up: adding different colored herbs to the mix, or adding different kinds of spices here or there to help compliment the flavors together. What amazed him more was that the ideas were ones not even a professional could have come up with, yet…they all sounded plausible.

The walk back to the restaurant had been quiet compared to the conversations the two boys had had on the way to the apartment; nevertheless, it was just as thought inducing for the both of them. Once Chihaya had finally gotten the picture, he, too, was interested in what kinds of things he could do for the restaurant, whether it had been from curry, or something completely different. As he finally got his thoughts together, he could only ask:

"How did you learn about all those different combinations and stuff? For the curry, I mean."

"Hehe, that's a secret."

"N-no, really! The combinations, the compliments, everything…It was amazing!"

"…It was Armand."

"The chef?"

"I've been under his apprenticeship for five years now."

"R-really? But then why doesn't he ever have you cook?"

"To this day," Steiner began, "I'm not really sure…He says he's got plans for me, but he hasn't really mentioned anything since I was a kid."

"…Weird," Chihaya simply responded, his gaze more towards the sky. His friend could only nod, and that had been the end of that. They remained silent, thoughts still buzzing through their minds, until they finally reached Armand's Bistro, where they would stay until evening came.

Armand, who'd been taking some trash out from the back door, greeted his two employees and welcomed them back. He had informed Chihaya of the coming dinner rush that came anywhere from 3 PM to 6.

"They're not too bad," the old man explained, "Just a few whiny kids here and there who don't eat their veggies, but hey, what can you do?" He'd also reiterated the whole speech about the Darshanick Company; they were off from work now, and a new group from their office always entered promptly at 5:15 and thirty seconds.

To Chihaya's surprise, he was swamped with things to cook. Even though the chef had taken a majority of the orders for himself, the sous-chef was in charge of the restaurant's specials. There were only about four or five on the dinner menu, but they had always been good sellers according to Armand, and he had to execute every single one perfectly.

Steiner, as well, had been thrown piles and piles of dishes to clean, but he couldn't help but keep thinking about that curry…He had to make it work for Armand's restaurant, as it was already going downhill financially, he knew…

The dinner rush ended at around 8PM, just around the time the lights came on in the city. It was the opposite for Armand, though, as the lights to his restaurant were turned off at exactly that time. To both of the boys' surprise, Chihaya was paid double of the normal salary he expected; even Steiner was shocked to find that Armand was able to hand him as much as he did.

"You worked hard today; you deserve every bit of that money, Charlie," he'd told his assistant, smiling heartily as he did.

"Th-thank you so much, chef! I…I'll work as hard as I can from now on!"

"Haha, that's the spirit, kid," Armand replied with a laugh. Chihaya thanked the man again, turned, and took his leave for the day. Before he could forget, though…

"Steiner!"

The boy turned his head.

"Thank you so much for everything!" the blonde cried, waving to his new friend, "I'll see you tomorrow!"

Steiner thanked his friend and smiled, as well, and when all was said and done, turned back around with Armand on the "hellish" walk home. Unfortunately enough for them, the snow began to fall, making things seem more dreary than they actually were. (In Steiner's case, anyway.)

"A-Armand," the boy began, stuffing his hands in his pockets to try and keep warm, "You know that new addition to the menu that you'd been trying to figure out?"

"Yeah; what about it, Stein?" asked the man.

"Curry," the youth simply replied.

"C-curry?" repeated Armand, a bit skeptical, "Like…Curry Rice? With the spicy sauce and all that?"

"Exactly. I tried it at Chihaya's house today…The flavor of it just makes me think…we could make a million variations of it if we wanted to with your spices and herbs and things! If we get it right, Armand, that's what we'll serve. You'll never have to worry about things like money again!"

To the boy's surprise, Armand stopped in his tracks, looking up at the falling snow.

"…Stein, it's a bit too late for us right now," the man replied.

"Wh-what? Why?"

"I guess I forgot to tell you, Stein…Right now, I…"

"You what…?" asked the boy, eyes widened with a fear, "What's wrong?"

"You know…running my place, it takes a lot of money…keeping the apartment, buying food for us, paying Charlie, it takes a lot, too…If you look at it one way, it does look like we do have a lot of money, kid, but…"

"But?"

"If you look at it my way, Stein…we're bankrupt. We couldn't buy anything new even if we wanted to."

It was just as Steiner feared. He'd known Armand was having money troubles for at least a year now, but bankruptcy was something both of them never wanted to face. How could it have gone downhill so fast, he wondered? He'd been fine for the fifteen years he's had that restaurant, but…

"You can't be…No, that's not--" Steiner began, but was cut off.

"It is possible, kid! I'm sorry I had to hide it from you, but we just can't go outside our safety zone anymore!"

"Armand…" the boy said, slowly beginning to walk again as the older man followed, "I-if you really want me to, I'll--"

"Nah, you don't need another job. Your help at my place is worth more than ten jobs combined, I guarantee ya. If I didn't have you, I probably would've quit the biz when I had the chance! It's hard on yer own, ya know?"

"Hehe, I guess…But still…"

"I'm tellin' ya," Armand told his son with a rather serious look, "don't worry 'bout a thing. I'll have it taken care of, all right?"

"If you're sure…" Steiner said, but trailed off before he could say anything else. Slowly, the two trudged back in to their home in the slowly accumulating snow, both of them hoping for only the best.

…9:45, the old analog clock in the kitchen read. Armand had already called it a day, but Steiner…He was still up, sitting at the table motionlessly, trying his hardest to think of a way to bring his 'father's' business back to where it once had been.

"I don't know what I can do…" thought the young cook as he rubbed his temples, "All of my spending money for ingredients...I gave to Armand weeks ago…Are we really…penniless?"

"It can't end like that…I can't let him be thrown on the streets like I was."

Steiner did recall the supermarket selling all the ingredients he needed that Chihaya wrote down for him. There was no way to buy them, though, even with the lack of money he and Armand had, and asking Chihaya would be like asking him to give everything he earned back…

And then he finally moved, his gaze back up again.

There was a way to get what he needed, with no charge, to boot.

"If I steal what I need…we wouldn't have to worry about money at all…Then again…They might catch me, wouldn't they…? I-I couldn't…" he thought. At this point the boy's head was throbbing with pain; there were only two options, both of them sharing similar fates: die hungry, or die a criminal.

"…I can't let him starve. I won't let us just…slowly die. He's helped me this whole time—just once…I have to do this. I'll be fine…I hope."

And it was settled.

Just this once, he thought, he would steal what he needed. Sure, it was against what he'd been taught, against everything his mother told him when he was little, but…What was he supposed to do, keep going downhill until he and Armand slowly starved to death? It was, as he thought, the only way.

"The only thing is…" Steiner thought, "How would I go about stealing the ingredients…?" Sure, he'd have to break into the supermarket after closing…But what if he was caught? What were his escapes, if any? He had some ideas, as he'd been there before with Armand in years past, although…he needed some kind of tactic.

"A thief's tactic…" he'd thought. And then, as juvenile as is was, it hit him as though nothing ever had before: The Thief Prince.

As quickly as he could without awakening Armand, Steiner dashed up the stairs to his room, trying to remember the story as best he could. There was little he did remember about the book; the last time Armand had read it to him was when he'd given it to the boy as a birthday present years ago.

Taking the small chapter book from where he'd left it that morning, he analyzed every picture, every quote, and even every word he could find that might help him in his thieving. He scanned it just as though it had become his Holy Book; everything became new to him, every word in that book became law.

When he finished The Thief Prince, the boy could only move onto another of his books, hungry for more tricks, more of the poetry he called thieving. He dug through his rows upon rows of books, trying to find stories of his childhood that had even the slightest mention of a thief or their ways. He knew it was a childish way to figure things out on his own, but right then, it was much better than dying.

Once he'd read through everything, at least an hour had passed. It was almost eleven, and the supermarket would close in fifteen minutes. For his own disguise, he took the odd leopard print comforter, trying to see if it was thin enough to work as some kind of manteau. To his luck, it had been; he wrapped it around himself to keep from the cold of the night.

He knew he was ready. All he had to do now was to make sure he was covered. As fast as he could, he went through his drawers to see if he could find even the smallest piece of paper, and when he did, scribbled a note for Armand on the front of his door. As he taped it, he re-read to make sure he didn't give even the slightest bit of his plan away. It read:

"Armand,

If I'm not here, I'll be at the restaurant. I decided to go early today. If it's all right, I'll be taking the keys, as well.

Thanks,

Steiner."

He didn't care how it sounded right then; he just had to rush out the door and get what he wanted before the supermarket closed its doors on him. Without further dawdling, he swiftly made his way out of the house, not knowing what the results of his actions were…

As he ran out from the protection of his home and into the cold of the city, the streets and sidewalks were dark and empty compared to the rushing foot and occasional vehicle traffic during the day…What was surprising Steiner the most was that he almost liked it better in its quiet state as he traveled through. The intersections and lights were still going, as though it served ghosts and unseen figures during the peak of the night, and those lights almost made him feel like they were welcoming him, persuading him, even, to become a part of those mirages.

But Steiner knew he couldn't care less about their pleas at that moment; he had to get where he was going and fast, and there was no time for even the slightest delay. As fast as his legs could take him, he ran through the streets and empty sidewalks, keeping the manteau close to his body to protect himself from the snow that fell heavier by the second, along with the sub-zero winds.

After what seemed like hours and hours of running, the boy finally could say that he had his eyes on his prize: though his lungs felt like they were on fire, the supermarket lay right across the street, its lights being dimmed, no less. Trying to ignore the aches and pains of each breath, he ran once more to the side of the building, thinking hastily of some kind of back-up plan in case he was to fail.

The last customer's footsteps clip-clopped out of the supermarket, he heard in the silence. From the sound of it, she carried heavy grocery bags, the new thief had a feeling that he may have to wait a bit for that bag lady, or whoever they were, to get completely out of the way before he moved. When the footsteps disappeared, it was his cue: time to get in, and get out. To his dumb luck, the doors hadn't been locked quite yet, and he was able to get in with ease. Step one of his operation: Success.

Signs hung on the wall as to what was being sold on each aisle, and the categories listed on them were so vague Steiner wasn't even sure where to begin. He'd figured first that he would go into the 'Spices and Herbs' section; it was the only aisle category clear enough from the list of things he needed to steal. Quickly, he ran towards his first destination, finding the aisle's shelves lined with all kinds of bottles and small boxes of spices from all over the world. He browsed for what Armand would call "only the best", saffron leaves, all types of ginger, allspices, colored herbs, and absolutely anything he could get his needy hands on. He practically ripped the comforter-manteau off his body and began to use it as some kind of thieving bag when he'd grabbed what he needed, since he'd seen characters in his stories do just that.

The new thief took a look back up at the ceiling and its labels; 'Imported Ingredients' was next. To his surprise, he'd found his personal jackpot: curry powders were amply sorted based on flavor, brand, and even the places they'd come from. He took quick looks at the backs of each of the brands, picking out "only the best" flavors based on his pick of the spices he'd chosen. He stuffed about twenty small boxes into his thieving sack, making it look more than a little suspicious.

Step two of the operation was almost done…All Steiner needed now was a good amount of rice. He tried the 'Grains' section, once again finding his prize. He grabbed whatever good rice Armand usually ordered when taking inventory, and lots of it. He'd hardly been able to stuff it into his bag, but he didn't care at this point; he was so close to achieving his goal he could already taste the curry!

…Or maybe it was the taste of fresh blood in his mouth when he'd bitten his tongue too hard at the sound of footsteps. There was no place to hide, the boy thought, and judging by the sound of the footsteps, there was no place to run to, either. He was frozen in his tracks, praying desperately to the Goddess that the sounds would go away.

Unfortunately for him, the Goddess wasn't particularly fond of thieves.

A teenage girl, perhaps a year or so younger than the thief, passed the aisle, her gaze quickly turning to the other person in the store. She gasped at the sight of this person; she knew he didn't work at the supermarket. Steiner could only make an attempt to run, but the heavy load on his back hadn't made things easy. The girl grabbed him by the edge of the bag he carried, a small portion of its contents slipping out as she did so.

"Wh-what the hell do you think you're doing?!" she asked in a rather shrill tone, her cerulean eyes seething with anger.

Step two and three of his operation: Failure.

For moments, he just stood there, thinking of what kind of things to say. There were hardly any things that came into his mind; he was drawn blank by the shock of even being found.

"C'mon, say something, you thief! Or do you want me the call the police on you now?" The girl asked again, combing some strands of her pale ginger hair back behind her ears through her anger.

Steiner could only continue to try to think of something, anything that would help him at that very moment…

And then he realized.

His fairy tales weren't just good for tactics.

"Hehe," he began coolly, trying his best to hide all fear, "Now, now, my princess, let's not have anger ruin your beautiful eyes…Anger…a cruel mistress, isn't she? Taking anything she finds beautiful out of the faces of maidens…"

Bingo.

"Wh-what…did you say…?" asked the girl, captivated by his words.

"Forgive me," Steiner continued, getting the hang of this new language he'd hardly spoken out of stories, "But I do mean it truly…Your eyes—no, your whole existence—is quite beautiful. I only wanted to save you from the anger that kidnaps that beauty…Was I mistaken?"

"I…" was all she could say, but shaking her head, she tried to throw herself back in reality by a slap to the face by her own hand.

"N-no! I…I'm going to call the police on you! If my dad finds out I let someone steal from his store, I--"

Dropping the bag of stolen goods for now, the 'prince' wrapped his arms around the girl in a warm embrace. She hadn't fought against it, but then again, she wasn't saying anything, either…Perhaps, the thief thought, they were both in disgust for what they were doing: Steiner for his thievery, and the young girl for falling into a thief's trap.

"Shh…" he said as the young girl fell into the embrace, "Let's not have anger find us here…She'll only steal you away from me." At that moment, the young girl fell into her prince's ocean-green eyes that stared into hers…She had nothing to say.

"Have we…have we met before?" The girl asked, almost spellbound by her prince's eyes…

"Only if fate was a kinder soul than I expected her to be, my princess…" After he was finished speaking, he slowly let go of the young girl, though she was still frozen. Slowly as not to scare his 'princess', Steiner picked up his bag of goods, gathering whatever had fallen on the floor and stuffing it back in.

"Wait! You-you're leaving already…?" asked the girl, a blush on her face, "I…I don't even know your name!"

"Know now," the thief began, resisting the urge to kill himself, "that I am and will be your one and only prince… Before I leave, though, would you be so kind as to grace me with your name?"

"I-I'm Chelsea…"

"Well then, my Princess Chelsea…I do hope we'll meet again," as he spoke, his final words began to fade, and he bowed to Chelsea and hastily rushed out…whether it be for idiotic emphasis or the fact that in the back of his mind he was actually beginning to like the whole thief-prince scenario…

He decided to re-mark his operation in the back of his mind: the whole thing went as a perfect success, whether he liked it or not.

The next day, Armand and Chihaya, once opening time came, found Steiner hastily cooking as many different kinds of curry as he could. There were spicy curries, mild curries, flavorful curries, even bland curries that were delicious, for the Goddess's sake. Both chefs were entirely in awe at the sight of the curries, and each of their unique flavors. And, when Armand asked…

"Stein, how'd you get the money to buy all this stuff?"

"Ah…I used some old savings I found in one of the drawers," Steiner lied. And well, at that. For days, perhaps even a week or two, Armand's Bistro had boomed in business. The new curry specialty swept Flower Bud by storm far faster than the thief had ever expected it would have. It was the greatest thing that had ever happened to him, and he was more than happy for Armand; he finally got to repay to the old man the debt he owed from the hospitality he was given all those years.

It was on New Year's Eve that the boy's world as he knew it was turned upside down. It was a joyful night for most; townspeople enjoyed many kinds of food and drink, despite the heavy snow that fell as the weather's way of ringing in the New Year. Due to the success of the restaurant, a majority of the city's business owners and wealthy citizens alike came to Armand's Bistro for some of its newly famed Finest Curry.

"With a taste like that," the people said as they downed their liquor and cheered, "It could give even the most well-known chains a run for their money!" The celebration, of course, was all fine and good. Laughs were shared, cheers were made, and resolutions were secretly kept in the backs of the people's minds. It was, indeed, an enjoyable event…Until an unexpected someone had entered the restaurant with her father to enjoy the festivities herself. Chelsea. When Steiner saw her enter, he knew he was in nothing but the deepest of trouble.

"All I have to do is stay in here…" he thought, "As long as she doesn't see me, I'll--"

The boy's work was interrupted when a simple call of his name knocked him back into the real world.

"Hey, Steiner!" Chihaya had yelled, shutting the kitchen door behind him, "You should enjoy yourself too! It's almost New Year's, after all!" At that very moment, Steiner turned around, frozen at Chihaya's words. He could do nothing but run now; Chelsea was less than ten yards away from him, if she found him, then…

"Chihaya…" the boy began, fear written in his eyes more so than ever, "I…I have to get out of here."

"Wh-what?! What's with this, all of a sudden? You made this place really famous! People want to know who got the idea of putting curry on the menu; they want to meet you!" At the sound of Chihaya's happy voice, the silver-haired youth only thought he was falling more and more into a nightmare.

"No, they want to meet you," Steiner continued, his breaths becoming more strained, "You're the one who introduced me to it in the first place; it was your idea…"

"…Why are you denying that it was your idea all of a sudden, anyw--" Chihaya tried to continue, but was cut off by the sound of the kitchen door slamming open. It was more than what the thief feared: Armand was giving everyone a tour of the kitchen, and even worse…Armand was giving everyone a tour of the kitchen: all of the business executives, all of the wealthiest people imaginable in Flower Bud, and all of the small business owners and their daughters--Chelsea included.

"And this'd be our kitchen," explained Armand, a smile upon his aged face, "And over there is our sous-chef, Chihaya--say hi, Charlie!--and over with the dishes would be…"

He was cut off by a painfully well-known voice.

"Y-you--?!" the all too familiar voice of Chelsea rang out. The older, tougher looking man behind her, presumably Chelsea's father, dressed in his New Year's best, took a glance at his daughter, concern on his face.

"You know that boy over there, Chelsea?" asked the man, his deep voice bellowing through the heat of the kitchen. Though he knew it would seal his fate, Steiner turned around, trying to brace himself for the worst. Despite the fact that there were always times when the worst never came…

It didn't work that way today.

"That's…that's the thief who stole some of our inventory, Daddy!" the young girl accused, pointing her finger at the criminal with fervor, "He tried sweet-talking me into stealing our stuff!"

Everything turned silent. There was only a bellowing laughter from right next to Steiner: Armand's bellowing laughter.

"Haha!" chuckled the man, "Betcha you're mistaken, little miss. Stein here wouldn't steal anything even if he wanted to! He's a good boy, let me tell you."

"I dunno, Armand," Chelsea's father told the man, anger rising in his voice, "He matches the description of what my daughter explained perfectly…White hair, bright green eyes, kind of pale…"

"Wh-what…?" asked Armand. There was a shocked expression on the man's face…It wasn't possible for his 'son' to be a criminal! He'd been fine all of these years…

Mixed conversation gossiped around the group in the kitchen. Some of it was a shocked reaction, some of it was unexpected reaction, some a mix of both, and some even…expected something like this to happen.

"Who, Steiner? Pulling a thievery? He's a good kid…"

"Hmph. The kid's stooped this low that fast?"

"I mean, we hardly see him, he might be a thief and we just don't know it…"

These types of conversations only grew louder; Steiner could only stand where he was, holding a wet dish in his trembling hand. Once Armand eyed his shaking, he couldn't help but be doubtful now. Even Chihaya noticed the shaking, and something clicked in his head: "was that why he wanted to leave?"

"Stein, you…You didn't steal from the supermarket, did you?"

"I…I didn't…" was all the boy could say. The large crowd in front of him only made the air thinner, which meant every breath Steiner took now was more painful than the last.

"Speak up, already! Tell them what you did!" cried an angry Chelsea, hands on her hips. She found the criminal now, she knew, and there was no way for her 'prince' to sweet-talk himself out of this situation.

He couldn't take it anymore. He was going to die a criminal, whether he liked it or not.

He dropped the plate he was holding; it shattered as soon as it hit the ground. Everyone became silent, their gazes glued to the boy.

"I…" he began, his voice shaken, "I only wanted to make Armand happy! I only wanted to bring this place back to how it was! Is that really that much of a crime?!"

"St-Steiner?!" Chihaya cried, discovering his prediction was right. He was joined by the gasps of the crowd and the small conversation that resulted from them.

"You little thief!" Chelsea's father roared, grabbing the boy by the collar and dropping him back onto the floor as his father would do so many years ago, "You're the one who stole our supply?!"

"Somebody call the police and arrest that kid!" a civilian called out from the crowd. The people only began to argue; many topics were brought up: Was he too young to go to jail? Was his crime just? Did the police even have to be called?

"Hold it right there, everyone," a voice came from next to the confessed criminal. It was Armand.

"I'll take care of this kid; you all go on and enjoy yourselves. And, Rich?"

"What do you want?" Chelsea's father asked, anger still easily seen all over his face.

"...I'll pay you back in full. Just give me the list of things stolen and I'll do my best."

"Armand, you shouldn't—the thief…That bastard should be the one paying us back, not you."

"'That bastard' is my son," the chef told Rich, almost angrily confident as he did so, "He's my responsibility, and his faults are mine. Now go on back and enjoy yourselves, why don'tcha."

"A-Armand…" Steiner could only say. His eyes were being stung with tears; never before had Armand called that boy his son.

"Don't talk to me until this room's empty," was his only reply. At this point, the youth couldn't tell if Armand was angry, or sad, or indifferent about the whole thing. He only waited until the room emptied out.

Some of the customers did decide to leave completely, including Chelsea and Rich. But perhaps, the thief thought, that it was for the better. Others decided to stay and watch to see what happened: would the boy be arrested? And others (mostly the ones who'd stayed in the dining room) were just too drunk with New Year's wine to care.

Once the kitchen was silent, and only the three employees remained, Armand spoke up, staring sternly into Steiner's eyes.

"Heh," he laughed, "I had a feeling…I knew you had no 'savings'…"

"Armand…" Steiner began, "You…you can have them arrest me. I knew it'd come to this one way or the other, I just didn't want you to starve…or go poor, is all…"

"I won't do it," the old man said.

"What did you--?! Why not?!"

"I already said it before, you're my son. I'm not just gonna have them arrest you. Guilt…that's punishment enough, don't you think?"

At that, the boy couldn't hold any of his pain in anymore. Slowly, as the man had spoken, warm tears began to roll down Steiner's face, something that hadn't happened for years…Chihaya only watched; never in all of the time he'd known Steiner (despite the fact that it had only been a week or two), would he have ever expected him to cry.

"Y-You're an idiot…" was all he could say through tears.

"…Haha, you think so, too?" asked Armand, smiling, "We're all idiots in one part of our lives or another; you just gotta get through it, you know?"

There was only silence. Only the heat of the kitchen was felt, and only the sounds of Steiner's weeping were heard.

"I can't come back here, can I…?" asked the boy, rubbing his eye a little to try and stop the tears. He knew were he ever to come back, Armand would have been accused for harboring a criminal, and even worse, his business would go back to how it was before.

"…I'm real sorry, Stein…I only wish...I could've spent more time with ya. But…Do me one last favor before you go."

"What is it?"

"Go to my house one last time. Check the nightstand by my bed. There's somethin' for ya there," explained the man, a calm smile on his face. He did nothing more but hold his hand out.

"You've been a good kid, Stein," Armand said, his voice beginning to tremble.

'Father' shook 'son's hand, and they were father and son no longer. They were just two strangers, who, one day, might cross paths again by chance.

As he was told, the thief ran to Armand's house for the last time, quickly running up to Armand's room. To even Steiner's surprise, it was the first time he'd been in that man's room, and, of course, the last. Once he'd found the nightstand, he noticed a few old, crumpled pieces of paper clipped up together, along with an envelope that read "Stein" in Armand's very own chicken scratch handwriting. He decided first to read the contents of the clipped pieces of paper. Once he noticed the date on the top right hand corner of the paper, Steiner realized: this note had been written four years ago; it was planned out from the very start. It read:

"Steiner,

You're leaving already, huh…? I mean, you know, I've only had you for a year so far, but I think we're havin' a good time together! You're not very good at washing dishes, though…customers keep complaining that their plates have whatever crap stuck on them. Then again, I guess I should have told them a 12-year-old was washing the dishes, huh?"—at that, the boy could only laugh. He remembered that very time—"Now, I dunno how long I'm gonna have you for, kid…but let me tell you: you've been a goddess-send ever since the day I found you…

My wife died of a sickness back on the island we grew up on…We hadn't been married for long; sickness left us with no time for children. Once she'd died after about a year of her sickness…Only about three years of marriage, but I still do love her to this day, let me tell you. I wanted to get away from that ol' island, so I decided to move to the city to live out my childhood dream of ownin' a restaurant in the big city. You've heard that part, though!

But, I'll tell you…The day I found you, all dirtied up and cold behind that dumpster behind the Bistro…I knew the Goddess was giving me a sign. She wanted me to take care of you, no matter what it might've brought. Haha, I still remember that day you came home with me. You were so funny, you ran around the house looking for fairy tales to read…I bought 'em for, ya, though!

Ah, I should probably get to the point, huh? Well, Stein…Hopefully I'll have trained you into being a fine cook by now…I know I never practiced with you much, but…Hopefully whatever's inside that envelope will make it up to you.

And Stein, whatever you wanna do in your life, you go ahead and live out that dream. We're people, for cripes sake, we should always be happy every second we live our lives! That's what I want to see from you, kid. I want to see you happy. I love you like I would my own son; you'd better not let me down, hear?

Thanks for everything, kid.

-Armand"

The thief, though he hated it, found tears falling from his eyes again. His grasp on the papers only became tighter by the moment; this was the last he would ever hear of the man who raised him through his adolescence. Of course, he wouldn't forget the envelope; as he opened it to find its contents, he only cried more. Inside was a check that read:

"Leaf Bud Culinary School Alumni Scholarship—

50,000G"

The boy had never been so happy in his life: though his training was little at best, he would finally be able to live out his dream for both himself and Armand. At that moment, he promised the man who'd served as his father that he'd do his best with the money he was given. He could only sit there and cry as he stared down at the paper check, knowing in the back of his mind that, for Armand's sake, he had to leave the town he'd called home for years…

Or, did he…?

"St-Steiner!" a voice called, scaring the crying boy out of his wits. It was Chihaya, standing in the room's doorway, his hand on its frame and breathing heavily.

"…A-Armand…Told me everything…" explained the blonde, still gasping for breath, "Uh…You got the scholarship, right?"

Steiner only nodded.

"Oh, whew, good…"

"I should probably get out of here, huh…?" asked the thief, brushing the last of his tears off, "Leaf Bud City…Where is that?"

"It's only about three miles away from Flower Bud! Th-that's why I'm here…"

"Huh?"

"Live with me, Steiner," the sous-chef said, his voice completely serious.

"...What?"

"I mean, uh…I know that sounds weird, but…I want to help you, too. There's a subway that'll take us to the school; I go there occasionally, too! I-I'll tell you everything you have to know! There's an extra room in my apartment, I think, and--and we are both...orphans, aren't we?"

"H-how did you--" asked Steiner, completely bewildered by both his 'guess' and the fact that Chihaya, as well, had raised himself.

"...Armand doesn't look a thing like you. Plus, he already told me he took you in before I left. I know how it feels...being left out on the streets for dead. That's why I won't let you go back there."

"You…would do all that…for a thief?" asked the ex-dish washer, standing up from his place on the floor.

"I don't really care what you are," replied Chihaya, smiling a bit, "But you and Armand helped me when I first got here…I want to repay you." Once he'd finished what he'd said, Chihaya held his hand out, similar to what Armand had done earlier that night.

"So…are you in, or not?"

There was silence for a moment; Steiner was a bit reluctant, of course, but, pushing the feeling aside, he happily took Chihaya's hand.

"I'm in," he replied. Acquaintance shook Apprentice's hand, and they were acquaintance and apprentice no longer. They were two friends; one would help the other whenever they could, no matter what the circumstances.

"All right then; get your stuff!" Chihaya cheered, smiling. Steiner nodded in agreement, and quickly, the boy ran to his room, grabbing anything he could with the help of his friend.

As they grabbed anything they could, the New Year's bell rung:

They were both at the start of a new chapter in their lives.

Ahh, that took forever! But, as usual, I'll try to give you guys some story notes for clarification.

Note 1: If you're still a bit confused on why Steiner's going to be so obsessed with curry in later chapters, it's mainly because now he associates it more with Armand and Chihaya, and also his love for cooking. After all, if it hadn't been for Armand, Steiner never would have never been the character we all know and sorta kinda fangirl over, and if it hadn't been for Chihaya, he wouldn't have ever known what curry was. :D

Note 2: Steiner and Chihaya are friends, dammit. Need I say more? D:

Note 3: The Steiner we all know and love is more next chapter. You know, with the constant 'hehe's and stuff.

I think that's it for notes this chapter…As always, I'd love some comments/reviews! (And constructive criticism would be amazingly helpful, as well. I always try to get my writing to a certain benchmark, but I'd really love some help here to make it even better, too!) Also, of course, THANK YOU for putting up with the 25 pages that was this chapter. I dunno how you did it, maaan. D: Took me like...an hour to check it over, but maybe that's 'cause it's 1:30 AM.

Thank you so much for reading!

…Now I'mma get some snack cakes. And jasmine green tea'd be nice, too…I wonder if we have any at home. –wanders off-