Chapter I

A Knock At The Door

Ansem the Wise leaned back in his chair by the fire, reading under the light of a lamp. He partly expecting the electricity to go out at any moment, because of the fierce storm outside. It was unusual for there to be a storm this violent in Radiant Garden, but there was one every now and then. After a loud 'bang' echoed from the lightning; he looked toward the window and sighed, then returning to his book. The wind howled louder, and another 'bang' was heard, then another, then another. But it wasn't the lightning... it sounded like someone knocking on his front door. It wasn't very loud; it sounded very weak... like a child's knock, possibly.

Curious, he stood up and approached the sturdy wooden door. He slowly pulled open the glass door, then the wooden one. There seemed to be no one there- until he looked down. There at his feet was a boy. His red and black clothes were tattered, and cuts and scratches covered him. The injured boy wearily looked up at him, the helmet on his head broken.

"Please..." he begged, "Help... me..." With that, he fell to the ground, unconscious. Concerned, Ansem carefully picked him up and carried him to a bed. He didn't have any idea who this young stranger was, but he needed help immediately.

--

The boy slowly opened his eyes and looked around. He was in a bedroom, and, as it was earlier, raining outside, as he could tell from the window in the room. He turned his gaze toward his arms, which were bandaged, and stained red from his injuries. He carefully moved his white hair out of his face, and felt the top of his head. It was also bandaged. However, his head throbbed painfully, and he yelped in pain.

"Don't touch your injuries, you will only make them worse!" a voice behind him laughed. He quickly turned around, and whimpered from the pain of the sudden movement.

"Careful," a man said gently, who was sitting beside him in a chair.

"Who... who are you? W-where am I?!" he asked, frightened.

"I am Ansem the Wise," the man introduced himself, "You are in my home. Do not worry, I will take the best of care of you as I possibly can."

"T-thank-you..." the boy stuttered timidly.

"Are you feeling better?" he asked with concern.

"A little bit," he replied, reluctant to nod.

"That is good to hear!" Ansem the Wise said cheerfully, "What is your name?"

"I..." the boy said, unsure, "I can't... remember. But... there is a name I do remember... Though, I'm not sure if it's mine, or not..."

"And what is that?"

"Xehanort," he replied firmly, "That's the name I remember... but... nothing else."

"Then I shall call you Xehanort!" Ansem decided, "Now... you do not know who or where your parents are? Or... where you come from...?"

"No, I'm sorry, I don't," Xehanort apologized.

"Then I suppose you may stay with me until we can figure that out," the man decided. The boy's lavendar eyes widened.

"Are... are you sure, sir?" he asked eagerly.

"You could stay as my apprentice," Ansem suggested, "I am studying hearts, and I would highly appreciate help."

"Oh, yes, sir! I can do that!" Xehanort replied, sitting up, but yelped again from the pain. Ansem the Wise gently pushed him back down onto the pillows.

"You will need to rest now, however," he laughed again. The boy sighed in frustration, and obediently relaxed, watching as the man stood up.

"I will bring you something to eat, so, do not move until then," he ordered. Xehanort nodded, as he watched Ansem leave. Tired, he wearily closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep. Ansem peered in, and smiled to see that he was doing much better. He then turned and walked to his kitchen to fix a good meal for him.

--

"Mr... ah... An...sem...? Yeah! Mr. Ansem, sir, could you help me?!" Xehanort called from the other room. Ansem the Wise stopped stirring the soup he was cooking, momentarily, to see what was wrong with the boy. He hurried into his guest bedroom.

"What's the matter?!" he replied

"Um, well..." Xehanort said hesitantly, he cheeks turning red, "Ah... well... I was wondering if... maybe you could... if you wouldn't mind..."

"Yes?"

"I... uh... have to go to the bathroom..." he replied, his face turning an even darker red, "But, well... you said that... you didn't want me to move until you returned, sir. So... I do hope that I didn't interrupt you." Ansem the Wise laughed again, not expecting this.

"Come with me," he said, helping him out of the bed.

--

"How is it?" Ansem asked. Xehanort nodded and swallowed down his mouthful of soup.

"It's very good, thank-you," he replied, and yawned.

"Perhaps you should sleep now," Ansem suggested, "It is very late."

"Yes, please. I'm tired," he agreed sleepily. The man removed the food, and placed the water on the bedside table.

Turning off the lights, he said, "Be careful not to hurt yourself with all of your injuries."

"I'll try, sir," Xehanort yawned, as he pulled the sheets up and shifted into a comfortable position. Ansem walked back to his chair to return to his book. As he read, his thoughts drifted back to the mysterious Xehanort, wondering what caused him to lose his memory. Taking care of this boy would cost more, as he would need new clothes, there would need to be more food, and with his age, he would need to attend a school. But... it seemed likely that this boy would earn his keep...