"Ooh! Matt, come look at this!" Alfred exclaimed excitedly, the chair beneath his feet wobbling a little as he tiptoed to reach whatever he had found on the shelf.

Matthew turned around, seeing what his brother was doing. "Alfred, be careful!" he cried out, a bit too late. Alfred had grabbed a dusty, old wrinkled paper from the top of the bookshelf, and lost his balance. He fell backwards into a box of their grandmother's old dresses and coats with a faint thud.

"Boys?" they heard their mother call from downstairs. "What is happening up there?"

"It's nothing, mom!" Alfred shouted as Matthew opened his mouth. "Whew, that was close."

"That was close?" Matthew repeated, bewildered. "You could've gotten hurt, Alfred!"

Alfred waved it off, pushing himself out of the box of clothes. "That box smells absolutely horrible," he noted, making a face. "Anyhow, look at what I found Matt!"

The older of the boys presented the old letter, addressed to their grandfather. "Lieutenant Jones," Matthew read aloud, frowning immediately after. "Doesn't anyone ever use the Williams part?"

Alfred patted his back reassuringly. "It's alright, Matt! I'm sure someone's going to acknowledge the Williams side of the family eventually!" He grinned, calming Matthew down. "Now, let's look at this letter..."

Matthew woke up to the rapid knocking coming from his window. He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose before turning on the oil lamp and opening his eyes. He didn't bother putting on a shirt; he just crawled out of bed, and opened the window to let the silhouette come in.

"You know, Al, there's this thing called a door," he said. He waddled over to his bed to get the slippers beneath it.

"If Mom caught me walking in the hallways this late with what I found, then that would be no fun!" Alfred pointed out, earning a cuff on the back of the head from Matthew.

"What did you find this time?" the younger one asked, pulling on a jacket that was hanging on his chair. Alfred pulled out a letter from his pocket, handing it to Matthew. "I found this on the table downstairs. It arrived not too long ago, Matt."

Matthew soon realized what was written on the envelope. There was a small little symbol on the top right corner, and in the middle had this written:

For Alfred F. Jones and Matthew Williams

Alfred had a silly grin on his face that soon faded as Matthew frowned, and murmured, "Are they serious?"

"What's wrong, Matthew?" Al asked, tilting his head in confusion. "They finally acknowledged the Williams side of the family! Isn't that what you wanted?"

Matthew showed the envelope to Alfred, pointing to the top right corner. "Alfred, do you know what this insignia is?"

"Uh... It's the symbol of the army?"

"That is exactly my point!" Alfred had to clamp his hand over Matthew's mouth because they heard the sounds of movement coming from across the hallway. "Alfred, this is a letter from the army! It's about the war!"

"Oh." Matthew had to resist the urge to slap his forehead. The Americans (and Canadians) hadn't known about the war until recently. Their mother wanted neither of them to get involved, and Alfred was clearly past the border. But the way his older brother dropped his head, and stared at his feet sadly made Matthew sigh.

"You know what, fine. Let's read the stupid letter." Alfred perked up, and tore it open. "I'm honestly starting to question who is the older one in this relationship."

They both sat down on Matthew's bed, reading the letter. There was a long introductory from the officer that wrote it, but Matthew simply looked for what he wanted to know. Eventually, he did find it.

We are asking both of you to join the war, alongside your American brothers, as well as England and France.

He bit his lip. Their mother had probably already read this letter, and knew what was coming. She didn't want them to go, but with Alfred around, there was no way to say that the house would be quite empty for quite a while.

Alfred looked up from the letter, glancing at Matthew who seemed worried about it. "Are we going to go, Matthew?"

"Well, you're going to have to show us how you shoot before we accept you completely," one of the officers told them, looking through the papers on his desk.

Matthew glanced at Alfred, who confidently replied, "I'm pretty sure we can shoot well."

The officer shrugged. "Go outside. Look for Kiku Honda. He'll be the one to train you boys."

They both nodded, and walked past his desk (Matthew could've sworn he heard the officer say, "Did I say that right?") to the training grounds outside. Matthew felt like it was the park at home, except the shovels were guns or knives, and the rocks were grenades. It scared him a little bit, wondering if they were actually going to see that park again. Would their mother be okay?

"Are you two Matthew and Alfred?" a voice called out, bringing Matthew out of his thoughts.

"Wow, Matt, it's like a dream come true for you," Alfred whispered. "You're getting a lot of attention. He called you first."

Matthew cleared his throat. "Yes, that's us."

The man who had called them had dark black hair, and he didn't wear an American uniform. It looked like a Japanese one to Matthew.

"I see. My name is Kiku Honda. I-" he started to introduce himself until Alfred interrupted.

"You're not American. Where are you from?" Matthew elbowed his brother, causing him to groan a little bit. "Matt! What was that for?"

"Excuse my brother," Matthew said, ignoring Alfred's death glare. "I'm Matthew. This is Alfred."

"Ah, you're brothers?" Kiku affirmed. "That would explain why you two look like each other."

"Yes, uh... We were told you would teach us how to shoot a gun?" Alfred spoke up, rubbing his side in pain. "But it's not like we don't know how to shoot or-"

Without warning, Kiku pulled out a pistol and shot one of the dummies in the head, silencing Alfred immediately. Kiku held out the pistol in his direction. "Show me that you know how to, then," he said, stepping back.

Matthew stepped back as well, as Alfred got ready to shoot the dummy. There was the sound of a gunshot, and Alfred had shot it the dummy in the stomach. Matthew heard him curse something unintelligible under his breath.

"Not bad," Kiku noted. "You can still improve though."

"Can I ask my question now?" Alfred asked. "Are you Japanese?"

Kiku nodded. "Matthew, is it? Would you care to show me how you shoot?"

Alfred handed the gun over to Matthew, who reluctantly took it. As odd as it seemed, the form of the gun felt familiar to his hands. A memory came back to him. It was one of him when he was a kid, and he had visited his paternal grandfather from the Williams side.

"I know, it's a little scary to be handling a gun, but who knows what kind of wars you're going to live through, Matthew. That's why I'm going to teach you. I hope you never have to use this knowledge."

He took a breath, focusing on the dummy in front of him. He raised the gun, and it felt like he was back as the Williams manor, with his grandfather in the shooting range in the back.

"Right now, you can take your time to focus on your target. But when and if you're on the battlefield, you can't hesitate. If you lose even one second trying to focus on your enemy, they will have shot you."

"So what do I do, grandpa?"

"Shoot the second you see an enemy. It's okay if you miss the first shot. Just never let them shoot you."

"But the scarecrow isn't going to shoot me, right?"

"Of course, it won't hurt you at all, Matthew. Now, breathe. Concentrate. Steady your arms. Don't close your eyes. Know where your target is. Then shoot."

Bang!

The memory faded away, and it took Matthew a second to realize that he had shot the dummy's head off of its body. He looked at his brother and Kiku who stood behind him. Alfred's mouth was hanging open in surprise, and Kiku was nodding in approval. But Matthew didn't feel accomplished or good at all. All he felt was a knot of guilt and regret building up in his heart, as his grandfather's words came back to him.

"I hope you never have to use this knowledge."