"Watch out!"
A dagger whizzed past the orange cat's ear, missing by just a hair's breadth. It quickly whipped around, baring its teeth and hissing. "Perhaps it is you who should watch out," he addressed the white cat with terrible aim.
"I'm sorry," the white cat said, green eyes widening in shock, realizing for the first time who he had almost made into a victim. "Forgive me, S- "
"Don't say it," grumbled Puss in Boots. "I am sure we all recognize me. The next time you practice throwing daggers, try to hit your target, not a person, yes? Your teacher could probably suggest a better spot to practice, too." The cat adjusted his hat and made to start off, but was interrupted by the young cat.
He sounded a bit embarrassed. "I don't have a teacher. I suppose that's why I've been doing so poorly."
Puss in Boots muttered a bit under his breath about how it was inadvisable for any creature to take up a weapon without expert guidance before facing his new acquaintance. "I suggest you search for one, then." He pulled the dagger from the nearby door in which it had lodged and handed it to its owner.
"Couldn't you-" blurted the young white cat, cutting himself off with a paw clamped over his mouth. He seemed shocked by his own audacity in even considering asking the question.
The best swordscat in all the world sighed. "Look... what is your name?"
"Jack."
Easy enough. "Jack. Any other time, I might consider taking you on as a student. However, I am on a quest that must be completed with all haste. In fact, I am behind as it is."
"I'm a quick learner-"
"Valiant," Puss in Boots said, giving his other, shorter (though no less ostentatious) name.
"I could help you. Whatever it is," Jack said, wondering what precisely the swordscat was up to- after all, he was a legend, "I'm sure you could use an extra set of paws." The young cat waited with bated breath while Puss in Boots considered the offer.
He wasn't so certain he wanted a young, brash cat tagging along after him on such a vital mission. Did he have the patience to deal with that, the proper temperament? He thought not.
But then he looked into the white cat's eyes and felt his resistance crumble. The cat was pulling his trick of making those adorable, irresistable pleading eyes.
"Fine," grumbled Puss in Boots, irritated to discover that he was just as susceptible to the power of the eyes as everyone else was. "Pack up. We need to be off."
Jack hadn't lied; he could learn very quickly. Within six months, they were taking on huge bands of thieves, where it would sometimes be the two of them against thirty humans- and they would win. Ruffians everywhere shuddered at the mere mention of the names "Puss in Boots the Valiant" and "Smilin' Jack the Cat" and fled before them.
The flights of the thieves were futile. The two cats were one of the best vigilante teams the country had ever seen, and they were merciless, too.
"Wipe that grin off your face," Puss in Boots hissed, eyes never wavering from his target. "You should be serious. This is a perilous situation."
"I can't," Jack protested. He really couldn't. He was naturally cheerful; he rarely stopped smiling. "That's like asking you to take off your boots."
"How dare you even suggest such a thing!"
Jack rolled his eyes at his teacher. "Wait. Here they come."
As the two cats sprang out to attack the thieves, Puss in Boots reflected that six months ago, this wouldn't have been possible for him. He wouldn't have attacked such large numbers of armed humans. He wouldn't have learned how to work with someone else; he would still be alone. He wouldn't have a student- or a best friend.