What the crap? Is this a new story? When I haven't even finished the second part to Mocking Bird? What the crap am I on?

Actually, this is a gift story for a friend. The wonderful Guavi. Yes, send her your love. xD

Am I still going to be typing stuff for Mocking Bird? Yes, I just got inspiration for how I should actually write the second part on the bus the other day while listening to the wonderfulness that is Third Eye Blind. I'll be writing on and off, due to homework and video games and short/long periods of lack of inspiration. Just a short update on my status as of now. 'Kay, enjoy the fic.

I do not pwn Kingdom Hearts or anything relating to the game. But you little geniuses knew that already, didn't you? Some "disturbing" content, and I would say OOC'ness, but this is before they were Nobodies, so I won't say that. Enjoy.

It was an ordinary day, just like any other day… As said, "ordinary". Braig was lying down on a large, over-stuffed sofa in one of the many common rooms of Radiant Garden's castle. Many? Yes, many. The castle was so ginormous that there were at least seventeen common rooms, twenty-one bedrooms, and thirty-eight bathrooms. But that's beside the point.

On this particular day, the future sniper was bored. Bored? Yes! He was bored. Why, you might be wondering? There was nothing to do! You see, before the whole icky little incident with Xehanort turning everyone into Nobodies, Braig was a sly, fun-loving guy. He just wanted to enjoy something. Amusement. That was it. But, as I said before, he was bored. He couldn't find anyone else in the castle. Nobody. He'd searched high, he'd searched low, and he'd even searched at eyelevel. Finding Nobody, he gave up his search.

Could Even have still been mad about the disappearing thirty page essay over gravitation? Even had spent so much time working on it, so much effort poured into thirty measly pages! The elder of the two hadn't thought it that hard, it'd been a breeze for him. But, then, gravity and the like was where he specialized, while Even was more of an intellectual, not a hands on type of guy. And watching Even run around the castle in search of the paper (which he eventually found floating above the statue of the deer in the seventh hallway, to the right of the second staircase, in the north wing of the castle) was a bit too much fun for him. The blonde eventually found out who did it and Braig was sentenced, by Master Ansem, to mopping the entire first floor of the castle. The work was tiring, but worth it nonetheless.

In his boredom, Braig began practicing his hold over gravity. Making a suit of armor's spear sail about the impossibly high ceiling and then imbed itself in a violet and rouge tapestry. The man chuckled to himself. He always did like motion… harmful motion. He began to think.

x.x.x

An uncertain amount of time later, Braig became bored of being bored and got up from the couch to… find something to do. The man sauntered through the hallways, beginning his quest to find someone to bother (again). After wandering down a few corridors and finding no one in any of the common rooms he passed by slash through, Braig made his way to the kitchen (yes, it's always the kitchen). Inside, he found Even looking through the refrigerator and Dilan drinking a cup of some warm beverage and sitting at the counter. You know, the part that sticks off from the wall, where you sit and eat at. That part of the counter.

"Mornin' boys!" he greeted them cheerfully. "How's life treatin' ya, Dilan?" In answer, Dilan shrugged apathetically and continued sipping his drink. "Even, you're looking ravishing today! What'd you do? Did you change shampoos? Get a haircut?" Braig asked sarcastically and clapped his hands together and held them under his chin (pretending to look enamored), as the blonde continued to search for something he would want to consume. When Even didn't reply, the man just smirked at his back. "Don't tell me that you're still mad… about that stupid assignment?"

Even grumbled several obscene words under his breath.

"Come on! You found it! I don't see what the big deal is!" Braig exclaimed while crossing his arms.

Whipping around to face Braig, Even stared down the other man. "Maybe, the big deal is the fact that the paper was due within an hour of its disappearance! Maybe the big deal is the fact that it took me hours, upon hours of research to compile a thirty page paper on gravitation!" he ended, saying the final word with a certain amount of distaste.

"O, it wasn't that hard," replied Braig, shrugging nonchalantly. "Stop your pissing and moaning and get back to whatever you were doing. Tch, I don't even know why you were talking to me. Leave me alone." Turning his back on the blonde, he strode over to the counter and sat a seat down from Dilan. Even glared at him while he was walking away.

"Don't complain. After all, you were the one that talked to me in the first place. Not that I'd want to speak with you, as it would be impossible to hold an intelligent conversation for more than thirty seconds," he snapped, all the while contemplating whether or not he wanted to throw the week old bowl of clam chowder he had found in the fridge at Braig or not. He decided not to; no matter how much fun violence was, it was never the answer. Or so Master Ansem told them.

"Yeah, whatever. You talk too much anyways…" commented Braig, while turning around and around in his nifty spinny chair. "I wish your mouth was as tight as your asssssssshole is, though," he continued while spinning and then stopped suddenly, his long black ponytail whipping him in the right eye. This caused his eye to water and sting; his next line would have looked so much better being used on Even, had it not appeared that Braig was crying. "(sniff) Yeah, 'cause then shit would only come out when it absolutely had to!" he exclaimed proudly, while wiping a tear away (much to his discontent; he'd always wanted that line to sound cool and collected, instead he semi-cried). Down the counter, Dilan smirked a bit and then took a sip of his drink.

Even just scowled. "O, how clever. How long did it take to come up with that? Twelve minutes?"

"Hell no, man! Only five!" Braig grinned triumphantly, despite his childish behavior, then walked over to the refrigerator (after pushing Even out of the way, causing him to fall against the counter ((no, not the part Dilan was sitting at!)) and grunt in pain). Braig then proceeded to look through the fridge.

Rubbing his side where he fell into the counter, the blonde glared at the other again, as Dilan half-smiled in the background of the scene. "I was here before you! I was Master Ansem's first choice as an apprentice! You need to learn respect!" he said coldly and stomped his foot.

In front of the refrigerator, Braig looked over his shoulder and smirked. "Well, you… need to wash your hair!" he shouted, giving Even just enough time to sport a dumbfounded expression, before a bowl of week old clam chowder was sent sailing into his forehead, successfully slopping over his hair and face. Dilan went into a fit of howling laughter and Braig began giggling uncontrollably. The bowl crashed and shattered at the blonde man's feet, sending shards of clammy ceramic across the marble floor and successfully spotting his casual black pants with bits of chowder. The other two watched as Even reached a hand up to his face and rubbed the week old clam chowder off of his face, which was now contorted into a look of complete disgust.

"I… hate seafood…" was all that escaped the man's lips, before he trudged out of the kitchen, dripping the creamy sauce and bits of clam on the floors of the castle's many halls. The two other men continued laughing, Dilan holding his sides and bent forward over the counter, and Braig having to use the edge of the counter to support himself, so he wouldn't fall over from laughing so hard.

Dilan stopped laughing first. "W-Why must you always torment him?" he inquired of the other man, moving one of his many braids behind his ear. Trying to stop his laughing, Braig sighed and then sat down in a chair at the end of the counter, then faced Dilan.

"Well… Why do I gotta bother him so much?" he reiterated, incorporating his own slang and valley-ish accent into the sentence. "Probly because he's the only one that'll take it! Would you put up with it? I didn't think so, now way. What about Elaeus? As if! Man, if I took one step in the direction of his rock samples, geological crud, and books, he'd be all over my ass like a hobo on a tater tot!" He smiled. "Better believe that."

The other man half-smiled at the crude joke and shook his head. "Braig… you are so immature." Said man grinned and nodded his head animatedly. "I have something you might like to know." Braig looked across at him slyly.

"And what might that be?"

"Master Ansem has accepted a new apprentice." There was a stupefied expression on Braig's face. "You didn't know?" He shook his head. "It must be because our wonderful Master knows how obnoxious you are and would hate for you to torture his new student." Dilan had a sinister smile on his visage. That means face.

"Then why are ya telling me this, if the old dude doesn't want me to know?" asked Braig.

"Because I enjoy turmoil." Braig now wore a wicked smile of his own.

"So, when is this guy supposed to be here?"

Looking over to the classic kitchen clock in the shape of a cat that hung on the wall, Dilan spoke. "Actually, in around five minutes. He could be early or late; you may want to go to the entrance as soon as possible… so you can 'show him around'."

Braig's smile grew wider. He stood up from his spinny chair, said a casual "Thaaaaaanks" to the other, and left the kitchen, slipping a bit in the spilled clam chowder on his way out. Dilan smirked. "That is a dead man. At least I'll be able to enjoy it, while it lasts." He finished his random heated beverage.

x.x.x

"…now I'm struggling to survive. Those days you were wearing that velvet dress. You're the priestess, I must confess, those little red panties they pass the test…" was the song Braig heard when rounding the corner in a hallway that obviously led to Even's room. The clam chowder droplets were still on the floor, but being mopped up by the loyal blonde, serf-servant-wannabe karaoke star of the castle, as he shook and swayed, dancing with the mop and singing (a terribly off-key version of) Semi-Charmed Life.

Looking down the hallway at the boy, Braig saw him leaning forward on the mop and singing into it as if it were a microphone. He crossed his arms, tapped his foot, and cleared his throat. Yeah, as if that ever works in getting someone's attention. "D'Yem, what the Hell are you doing?"

Out of shock, the boy fell face-forward onto the mop.

"Molesting inanimate objects isn't exactly a social… norm, if you catch my drift, little guy?" said Braig, trying his darndest not to laugh at the rather compromising position that D'Yem was in.

D'Yem (I love that name!) got up, brushing his wet robe off and straightening up. "I wasn't molesting the damned mop and you know it, so just shut the Hell up…" he said, pouting a bit.

"D'Yem, don't cuss, you're too much of an amateur. I think ya need a few more years before you're able to use words like that," Braig told the boy, whilst passing and patting him on the shoulder a bit roughly. "By the way, has anyo--" At that moment, there was a loud bell sound. "The doorbell!"

The boy gave a puzzled expression. "What's so exciting about that?"

"We've got a new extension to our little 'family' showing up today… I'm thinking that's him!" Braig replied and smiled wickedly.

"Jeez, and I thought it mighta been something important!" shrugged D'Yem nonchalantly and then picked up his mop.

"Shut up, it's not as if you knew someone was coming!" The bell sounded again, echoing throughout the castle. "Get back to cleaning the floors, as is your place, slut-boy!" said the man in false 'O, I'm such much better than you'-ness and walked/pranced off, on his way to the front doors.

D'Yem just stared as he watched the grown man act as if he was seven years old. He then went back to his mopping, beginning to hum a tune, then fully breaking out into song. "It's a piece of cake to bake a pretty cake, if the way is hazy…"

x.x.x

Braig arrived at the large, oak front doors to the castle (ooo, cliché) just as the bell was wrung for the third time; the notes of D'Yem's new song, echoing in his ear drums. Upon opening the door, he didn't spot anyone at first, but then looked down to see a small brunette boy of about sixteen, standing and waiting calmly to be let in. He smiled in a sinister fashion again. "Helloooooooo, and who might you be?" Braig asked sweetly.

The boy looked up at him with a blank face. "My name is Ienzo; I was summoned as an apprentice to Ansem the Wise. Are you the page that answers the doors and performs other trivial tasks?" the boy questioned, bored.

Braig's eye twitched. "As if! I'm an apprentice!" he said coldly, stomping his foot.

"Well you don't act like one."

"And how the Hell would you know? I've been speaking to you for, what, like a minute? Yeah, you're cool!" answered Braig rudely.

"You smell like week old clam chowder."

The man's posture stiffened, and then relaxed again, and he turned on his heel, walking into the doorway, then waiting for the boy. "Well? Get the Hell inside, or else you'll be sharing a room with D'Yem!" Still maintaining his bored, blank expression the boy, Ienzo, picked up his lone sack of belongings and entered the castle, casually asking who this D'Yem was. "Trust me, kid, you'll find out soon enough…" was the answer, as horrid singing met their ears. They walked through the magnificently huge foyer, Braig's heels clicking on the stone floor, and the boy's feet making shuffling sounds. The noises weren't able to quiet the singing any, though, as the racket just intensified as they walked further into the castle.

"I love Jesus, yes I do! I love Jesus, how 'bout you?" came the loud screeches that happened to be D'Yem's voice.

"D'Yem! Shut the Hell up, or else I'll drug you with opium and then castrate you in your sleep!!exclamationpoint!1!" Braig yelled. "And what did I tell you about the dammned mop?"

"I'm sorry!" said the blonde, dropping the mop to the floor, hands behind his back as if he hadn't been doing anything. "C'mon! I hadn't been doing anything!" he tried to defend himself… and then eyed the mop slyly.

Braig planted his fists on his hips, then started walking toward the servant-boy, Ienzo following nonchalantly (isn't that word cool?). The man bent and picked up the mop, keeping an eye on D'Yem all the while.

"Why're ya takin' that? I wasn't doing anything! Why does this always happen to me?" he whined, beginning to throw a tantrum, but then becoming distracted upon noticing Ienzo. "O, hey… who's your little friend?" asked the servant-boy, pointing at the brunette.

The man looked down at the boy and scoffed. "O, trust me, this guy ain't my 'friend'; far from it, in fact. He said I smelled like clam chowder."

"Week old clam chowder, actually," corrected Ienzo quietly.

"Whatever, ya little prick."

Eyeballing the boy from head to toe, D'Yem gave a little giggle, causing the other two to look at him in a questioning manner; he spoke to them. "O… it's nothing… It's just that… he's kind of… SHORT!"

Then, Ienzo showed his first sign of emotion. His eye twitched and his face became a light shade of crimson. From anger, not from blushing you yaoi obsessed fangirls! Anyways. "Don't you dare to ever call me that again, or else I'll cut out your entrails and strangle you with them as you sleep!" the boy hissed malevolently under his breath. D'Yem looked absolutely disturbed. Braig was bewildered.

"Wha… what did you just say?" he asked. Instead of an answer, Ienzo just looked up and glared at him sideways. "Okaaaaaay then… We'll just be going, D'Yem... Gotta show the kid the rest of the castle, ya know the drill. So little time, so much to see and many, many people to meet! Later, pervert!" called Braig, dragging Ienzo along after him, dropping the mop on his way. The servant-boy watched indignantly as Braig dragged the other boy away, but then got a sick look on his face as he saw Braig drop the mop on his way out…

x.x.x

Fun thoughts raced through Braig's mind. (Perverts.)

x.x.x

"So, uh, kid, that threat back there was kind of… violent," Braig told the boy, chuckling, after they'd already left D'Yem to his moppy-fun and were several hallways away.

Ienzo stayed calm. "Not anymore violent than your own threat involving opium and castration."

Running his fingers through his tied back hair, the man chuckled some more. "Yeah, but mine was meant in a playful manner; yours was just plain malicious…"

They continued walking and Ienzo said nothing.

"Although… I do think D'Yem had a point… you're pretty short…"

Ienzo clenched his fists so hard that his fingernails dug into his palms.

"Yeah… really short. How old are you? Twelve? Haven't had your growth spurt yet, that it?" asked Braig, partially talking to himself, because he knew the boy wasn't listening but fuming in his discontent. "How tall are ya? You can't be over five feet… Four foot eight?"

"Shut up…" Ienzo whispered.

"Ya know… it's great. You're the perfect height for me to do… this," Braig told him, putting his arm on Ienzo's head and leaning over, putting all his weight on the boy. "Yup… None of the other apprentices are short enough for me to lean on." The brunette was fed up. He reached up and squeezed the skin covering Braig's ribs, and twisted, digging his fingernails into something other than his palms, that time. Braig could feel the fingernails pulling up skin even through his shirt.

He screamed like a eunuch.

Braig tried to elbow Ienzo in the eye, but missed; his height saved him. "Mwahahaha! What now you little bitch!" cried Ienzo, squeezing the skin harder and pulling on it even more. The boy sat on the floor, still holding onto Braig and dragged him down with him. He then stood up and proceeded to kick him wherever he could, all while keeping a very calm demeanor. Ya know, aside from when he called the man a bitch. Braig had curled into a ball, holding his knees close to his chest, so as to block all his sensitive areas… he whimpered, asking Ienzo to stop. A twisted smirk spread across the boy's face. "Does it hurt little maaaan?" he asked, bending over the injured man and giggling cruelly, before straightening up and dusting his shirt off and fixing his collar.

"Yes… it hurts…" Braig whimpered, holding himself. Why am I being so mean to Braig?

A slamming and then a slipping noise came from one of the hallways branching off from the one they themselves were in, followed by heavy, sloshing footsteps, and Even appeared at the end of the corridor. He began to walk down the length towards them, a disgruntled, priggish look on his face. "What in God's name is all the noise for? I was getting ready to take a bath to wash this dis…gusting… Braig… why are you on the floor?" he asked, looking back and forth between Ienzo and the beaten Braig.

Braig just pointed at Ienzo and smiled weakly. The boy turned to look at the new arrival, with a blank, bored expression. "You smell like week old clam chowder, too."

Even's eye twitched. "Well that is not my fault! That little bastard on the floor threw a bowl of the paste into my hair! I was about to take a shower to wash it out, but then I heard some yelling and crying in one of the hallways… so I came. I guess I shouldn't have, since it's only Braig and his short friend." And with that, Even turned on his heel, leaving a disgruntled Ienzo and a broken, beaten, and bleeding Braig on the floor of the hallway. Gotta love alliterations.

"I'll deal with him later…" Ienzo mumbled to himself and then looked down at Braig. "Well?" he asked, crossing his arms and tapping his foot. The man on the floor gave him a questioning look, though it was a bit hard to tell that's what it was, with his eye swollen shut and his mouth bleeding all over the place. "You were supposed to be showing me the castle, not laying on the ground relaxing."

Suddenly, Braig sprung up from his pitiful position, seething with anger. "And what the Hell do you mean by 'relaxing'? I don't exactly call some midget beating the shit out of me 'relaxing'!" he shouted, stomping his foot for emphasis.

Ienzo, in one swift movement, poked Braig in the liver with his index finger, causing the man to fall on the floor in a spasm of pain. "No more short remarks!" he hissed. "Now, get up… The castle's large and I'd like to see it, or most of it, before dinner tonight. You know, have to get moved into my room and everything."

Again, Braig stood, this time clutching the area where his liver was. "Yeah, you're cool. Fine, I'll show you the damn castle, but I'll make short jokes if I want, 'kay?" he replied saucily.

The boy shrugged carelessly. "Fine; it's not as if I'll be the one being hurt."

"This is going to be a long day…" came the cliché line, as Braig wiped the blood off of his mouth using his shirt sleeve. The two began to finish (oxymoron) the tour of the castle, Braig limping as they walked.

That's part one. Part two won't be out anytime soon, though, unless I write over Christmas break, but I'll probably be busy. Or not. I'll start it Friday. But I do promise to finish this story. 'Kay?

Tell me what you thought, or don't. I don't care, but it's nice to know. xD