A/N: I'm sorry to say this is the kind of story that will only fully make sense by the end, but I'm hoping you'll be up for the journey! Characters, genre, and many other things will change by chapter. I'll put warnings when necessary. My apologies to anyone seeing this twice! I ended up wanting to keep all my stories here as well.

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Prologue: One Day…

Hanbei just wanted that boy to disappear.

Yet there he remained, huddled close to his best friend on the thick, fallen tree branch which served as their makeshift bench. Their backs to the setting sun, shadows fell over their faces. Even in the dim light, Hanbei could see the shy upturn of his friend's lips in answer to the foolishly wide grin of the vermin next to him. The boy's hair hardly looked combed, unruly and long, just barely contained by a high ponytail. Seeing someone so uncouth next to his friend, who already exuded an air of authority with his strong shoulders despite his youth, made Hanbei's stomach churn.

And yet, this boy dared to turn to him, his smile just as bright as it had been throughout his hushed conversation. "How about you, Han?" he asked, tilting his head and raising his voice.

Was he enough of an idiot not to realize that if he needed to raise his voice, Hanbei could not possibly have heard their prior words? Fools were so very insufferable. "Pardon?" he spoke coolly, with only the slightest effort to conceal his contempt. Purely out of concern for his friend, he had been trying to "get along" with this ruffian for the past few weeks since he had shown up out of nowhere.

"What's your dream?" the boy asked, apparently deterred neither by Hanbei's reaction nor the weight of his question.

Perhaps to a child such as this, it wasn't grave at all. Hanbei could not say the same. He scowled.

"Kei was just telling me about his," his friend provided, nodding encouragingly and adjusting himself to somewhat close the distance between them. He was already much too big to be able to sit comfortably on the branch. Hanbei didn't understand at the time how his friend managed to grow at least twice as much as he did on the same rations.

A brief silence fell before it became apparent that Hanbei's response was not forthcoming.

"I'm going on a journey," the boy, who insisted on being called Kei despite the brief period of their acquaintance, offered proudly, as if it had already been decided. Hanbei had not asked, but even that did not deter him from continuing. "To see all kinds of places and meet as many people as I can."

Hanbei's lips remained pressed firmly into a thin line. "I see."

Alas, this apparently served as encouragement to the boy across from him, who leaned forward eagerly. Despite the shadows of twilight, Hanbei could see an intense light in his eyes as he continued. "Don't you feel like there are so many other things waiting out there for us?"

The only response Hanbei could give was a quiet grunt, his lips jerking into a slight frown. He certainly wasn't contemplating any value in the boy's words.

"Hide said he wanted to come too," the boy chuckled, and Hanbei's spine shot up immediately into a rigid line. He could only dimly see his friend's expression, but his shoulders had fallen into a somewhat embarrassed shrug.

"It…" he mumbled, "it sounds like fun."

Before he could be swept away by the black jealousy bubbling up within him, images flashed through Hanbei's mind. The white door firmly shut within a rusty frame bearing the name Takenaka. The entry to his family home completely emptied of the familiar shoes. The huddle of unbathed children around a table with scarcely any food. The look he often caught in Hide's eyes, not even a shadow of emotion remaining. Could there be more to the world than this?

Something burned behind Hanbei's eyes, and he looked down, away from the remnants of the sunlight.

He had been about to answer when a woman's shout for her wayward son broke through the trees surrounding them, and they knew their meeting for the day had ended. That day, Hanbei could still not imagine the freedom the other boy dreamed of. The word clung persistently to the walls of his small heart, although no one had voiced it.