#smth smth the very first footsteps Ratio chased were not the genius society's but Himeko's

[everlastiingiimmortals]

Before Veritas Ratio, there was Andreas Costas.

Andreas of the Coast. A fitting name, for the boy's earliest memories are filled with the sound of waves washing against the shore and the smell of salt on the wind. Despite what Dr. Ratio's demeanor and attire may lead one to believe, Andreas was a boy of humble beginnings, growing up on the outskirts of a small port city. His days were spent with marble and sand, waiting with his mother for his father to return from the sea. With him always came the smell of the ocean, and especially of fish.

The fisherman could never quite understand the way his son hovered around his side while he gutted and cleaned the fish for the market, and yet wrinkled his nose and refused to touch the slime-slick scales all the same. He paid no mind, nor tried to insist that the boy familiarize himself with the fishery; the boy's hands were more like his mother's after all, slender and made for working with clay and paper. Instead, the fisherman regaled him with tales of the ocean. From his father, Andreas learned of the winds and tides, of the delicate balance of the ecosystems and the fish that came with the currents. He learned of all the things that lived beneath the waves, as much as his father could tell him.

And on those days that his father was out to sea, Andreas sat with his mother, listened to her music, and watched her throw clay. From her he learned of the balance in clay mixtures, and that a sturdy base and even distribution made for the best πίθος. He learned of the control needed in firing a pot in a kiln. He watched her paint. From his mother, Andreas learned of the stories she painted and the history in every stroke of her brush.

And when his father was away but he was too restless to stay inside, Andreas went to swim, or he would go to the old farmer at the other end of the valley. The farmer let him pick ripe fruit to take back to his mother, in return for caring for and exercising his horses. And from the farmer, Andreas learned of the growing seasons and how to care for the land, of which fruit was best to eat throughout the year, of foraging and simple remedies that one could make by hand.

This boy pestered all three constantly with questions, and such was how they lived —Andreas, his parents, and the old farmer across the way. He learned of practical things from them, and he was content in what he could glean from them. Then one day, Andreas met a red-haired girl in a white dress who asked him what he thought was beyond the sea, and his parents and the farmer found then that they no longer held the answers to his questions.

So Andreas was sent to school in the hopes that he could be provided with the answers he sought. In reality, the boy became insatiable. Hands that held baskets of fruit now held bundles of books. Hours on the beach turned to hours spent in his local library, but it wasn't enough. It was never enough. He read before bed, he read at the dinner table, he read while he walked to the market. Every waking hour was spent studying. What he was pursuing, enflamed by his childhood friend, his parents could never quite tell.

It continued like that until the day she went missing.

And then it worsened.

Perhaps it was his grief that twisted his tongue into combative jabs at his peers, or that compelled him to shut out the rest of the world. He never did say, not even to his parents, but it was clear that he refused to accept her fate. If anything, it only seemed to spur him further in his pursuit of his studies.

Professor Rond, his mathematics teacher in middle school, took note of his drive and talent, and the rest is history. From here, Veritas Ratio was born: truth and reason in the Laurelian language of education, proof of his dedication to his ideology as he packed his bags, said goodbye to his mother and father, and left home, leaving Andreas to remain on the shore.

Over time, he focused on bigger goals, incensed by his experiences with peers, professors, and students alike, though his friend never did quite leave his thoughts. But he didn't pursue her, not even when word of the Astral Express' return and its new navigator reached his ears. Their paths had strayed too far apart; knowing she was alive was enough.

Years pass, and he still writes to his parents, still ensures they are comfortable and healthy, still returns home to visit them and the old farmer and his beloved Professor Rond. He's taller now, even taller than his grizzled and sun-kissed father, but his father still takes his hands and says they're so much like his mother's. His mother tells him you've changed, Andraki mou. And when he waits for her to continue, she smiles. The corners of her eyes crinkle. Your drive is focused. You're doing incredible things in the universe.

He sets his bag down, kisses his mother on both cheeks.

"There is so much left to do, Mama."

Yes, but until then, sit down and have some dinner. We've been waiting for you.

Welcome home, Andrakis.