Classification

The streets of Madril were crowded as usual. Sitting outside a café on the second level, yellow eyes half closed, fingers tapping the table while the other hand held a coffee cup, the Great Hero Rosalyn watched the people pass by.

The "Heroes" could easily be picked out. The wannabe Heroes anyway. They had scrappy armor on and tarnished weapons, mostly claiming to be "defenders of the weak" while strutting about. With, or without the power of Classification, the world ran much the same.

Rosalyn's golden eyes flicked to the side. The Heroes of any merit were harder to find. They were like her, quieter, patient, with battle scars across their skin. Well cared for weapons, worn but strong armor, steadier in their steps. Unfortunately, some of the better Heroes still had that cocky walk, like how Stan swaggered like he owned the world.

She considered herself very professional, thank you very much. But Rosalyn couldn't help but think…what made a Hero?

Not the badges, the rewards. Rosalyn herself, she had more than she cared to remember. Packed away somewhere back at her long forgotten, rarely visited home. Her childhood had turned her into what she was, one of the few female Heroes. She felt a small prickle of guilt for not going to see old friends and family for the holidays.

They hadn't parted on the greatest note, she and her family. But Heroes didn't run away from problems, especially Great Heroes…She'd get to it someday.

Sipping her drink as the gray clouds above threatened to drop rain or snow, Rosalyn continued to muse while she had some time off to do so. There were no small or great Heroes. She was immensely proud of her "Great Hero", not just "Hero" title, but still…The ordinary people that faced the Ghosts from their homes, they were worthy of the title Hero also. Ari, back in Tenel, definitely deserved the title, if not more. Linda, Epros, Big Bull, Kisling…maybe even Stan. They all were Heroes.

Yeah, that was it. She smiled. Heroes weren't defined by medals or awards, sometimes there were every day Heroes. The "Hero Class" was as much bull as anything else had been under Classification. Just as she had told Beiloune, "Classified" or not, she was a Hero. She'd keep being one until she died.

Her eyes closed, running her fingers across the hilt of her rapier. It wasn't until someone spoke that she snapped them open faster than a startled lion would.

"Well if it isn't the 'Great Hero' herself!"

I can't even rest, can I? Rosalyn thought with a sigh. But a Hero's work was never done. "What the heck do you want, you fake Evil King?"

Her least favorite person in the world, King Stanley HiHat Trinidad the Fourteenth, or whatever number he was, she didn't care, was standing in front of her with that imperious smirk on his idiotic face. His arms were folded across his chest, unbothered by the wintery chill; golden hair slicked back, yellow eyes looking down at her.

"Shouldn't you be out…saving damsels or something?" Stan snickered.

Rosalyn resisted the urge to stick his throat with her sword, instead she said coolly, "It's never girls that need saving, Stanley. You'll need saving in about…" She pretended to check her watch. "Five minutes if you don't put one hundred feet of distance between us."

Stan stuck his tongue out, and she growled, thinking about how utterly childlike the Evil King was. And yet, she remembered the strength that he had shown during their forced duel a few months before. She wasn't looking forward to fighting him again, though the challenge would be welcome…

"Rosy, if you must know, I'm here to get supplies before I start my world conquest!"

"Oh really?" Idiot, thanks for telling me. She made a note to keep an eye on him. "Does that include fixing my shadow, or do I have to make you?"

Stanley gave his best malicious laughter, which echoed eerily, dark and foreboding, causing a lot of the voices to stop in the plaza. Utterly unperturbed, Rosalyn just raised her eyebrows. "Well?"

"No, it doesn't. But if you're a good girl I'll spare you." With that he turned and marched off, with Rosalyn barely keeping still in her seat. It was so hard not to get up and connect her blade to his filthy black heart…

Then again, a Hero knew mercy. Somewhat. The moment he tried something she would make sure to make good on his promise to fix her dang pink shadow before she dealt with him. Picking up her parasol and twirling it, Rosalyn calmly went in the direction Stanley had headed.

Classification was gone from the world, forced Classification anyway. But she was still playing cat and mouse, cops and robbers, wannabe Villain and Hero with King Stanley…

At least until her shadow was fixed.

~***~

This little drabble had no point in all of the heavens. I just hadn't written any Okage stuff lately, so here it is. I don't blame you if you don't want to review, but I'd appreciate it!