Chapter 1: Mihael Keehl
"It's been two years since Mihael's entered our house hold. It's time for him to be shuffled back into the system. We, personally, cannot handle him anymore. He's just too volatile, even for a nine-year-old boy! And he's conniving!"
Little Mihael Keehl listened from his chair as his foster father spoke. The foster father and mother, both groomed and well dressed, stood before the stand, where a gray hair judge sat. He clenched his fist as he did. This is the second time I've been passed into someone else's hands… what is wrong with these people?
"Is there no other alternative?" the judge asked, a firm, disapproving frown on his face.
"Conniving, you say?" came a weary voice from the back of the room. The judge looked up and the foster parent's turned around. Mihael saw everyone looking back and stood up in his seat to look as well. The speaker was in a leather trench coat, wearing a hat that hid most of his face.
"Yes… He's really smart. He sometimes holds conversations with us on our level, but most of the time, he's just a brat!" answered the foster mother.
"Judge, if I maybe be so bold as to approach the stand?" the man in the back spoke, rising from his seat. The judge nodded his approval.
Mihael watched the man as he passed. He caught only a glimpse of his face, a kind, old face with a warm smile. Mihael growled to himself. They all wear that kind of smile, then two years pass and I'm back here.
The man gestured to the judge, who leaned forward. He whispered something into the judicial ear. A surprised look hit the judge's face moments later, and he leaned back in his seat. The old man appeared to be returning to his seat, but he stopped to stand beside Mihael.
"This man says to be running a correctional facility for troubled children. I believe it is best that we leave the child in question, Mihael Keehl, to be escorted to this facility." The judge finally finished after a long pause, ending with his gavel.
Mihael looked up at the man in the coat, wild eyed, "I don't need to be corrected! I'm fine! They're liars, those two foster parents!"
The man in the coat grabbed Mihael by the wrist and pulled him out of the courtroom. Mihael tried to protest, pulling at his arm, but he got no slack. After he gave up fighting, though, he realized that the man's grip was not forceful, and that the man was hardly leading Mihael. A little curious, Mihael continued walking with the man.
"What's you're name, old guy?" asked the young, blonde boy.
"Just call me Watari," the man answered, taking off his hat. His hair was completely white, and his face lined with age. A small pair of spectacles sat on the tip of his nose. "The truth is, you're not being taken to a correctional facility. I am actually taking you to an orphanage for gifted children, called the Wammy House."
"Why'd you lie to the judge then? And you think I'm gifted?"
"The lie was necessary, fore I did not want to reveal my identity to the judge anymore than I had to," Watari answered. "And yes, you are indeed gifted. If you were simply an angsty brat, you would still be fighting to get away from me, not asking questions."
Mihael nodded gradually, speaking his thoughts, "But what if I don't want to be in an orphanage with a bunch of nerdy kids?"
Watari chuckled, "It's not that simple. These 'nerdy kids' as you say, are being taken care of in the best orphanage in England. They are extremely well cared for. And the most exciting thing is that these kids are raised to become great detectives!"
Mihael's ears perked up. "Great detectives, you say?"
With a nod, the old man continued, "I happen to work with one of the greatest in the world, and you're in luck. You'll get to meet him!"
Mihael smiled a little and ran ahead, realizing for the first time that Watari had released his hand, "Well, what are we waiting for? Where is this detective?!" Mihael turned around to see that Watari had stopped by a black car.
Watari opened the door and nodded in, "Right in here. Get in, if you will."