Big thanks to my amazing editor, Drucilla!

Not much to say here, other than I promise there will be happy times again - including a very silly interpretation of a beloved character. But yeah, this one's gunna hurt.


Concentration would be the key to victory in this battle. Though he was but a lone soldier against a large and terrifying enemy, he kept his head held high, his trusty blade at the ready. All he needed was an opening... he took a deep, baited breath, measuring his footsteps as the opponent circled him... then... there! An opportunity!

He sprinted to his foe's side, stuck his weapon between two legs, and flipped them over onto their back. Then one good kick to send them reeling! "That'll teach you," he said with a notch of pride in his voice. "There's no reason for our fight to go on any further... if you leave this place, you'll have an enemy of me no longer."

His opponent didn't say anything, nor did he expect him to – after all, spiders couldn't talk. But it did seem to grumble a bit as it managed to crawl back onto its legs and scurry its way to the open window. He was pleased – he didn't want to have to kill the creature, but he didn't want to clean up the spider-webs it would have left. Not to mention it would have scared the dickens out of his mother.

"MICKEEEY! Where are you?!"

Right on cue. Mickey sighed, but it was with a smile. For goodness sake, if he wasn't constantly in her line of vision, she had a heart attack. He tucked his mother's sewing needle into his belt, careful not to rip his tailored clothes – all of his clothing was made by his mother, since the usual tailors had a difficult time trying to make them for someone his size. He didn't want to make his mother fuss anymore than usual, and she already fussed way too much.

Judging from the location of her voice, she was probably near the den. Mickey had the entire house memorized, including the insides of the walls and which rafts were easier to run along. It was slower, and more boring, to rely merely on the floor for his comings and goings. He made his way towards his mother's frantic voice, leaping from window sills and swinging by curtains until he landed on the bookcase where his mother kept various novels and favorite letters. "Up here, oka-san." Due to his size, he had learned he had to make his voice very loud whenever he wasn't directly in front of someone's face.

Daisy turned on her heel, and then exhaled deeply as she saw her son. "Mickey! What are you doing up there? You had me worried sick! Come down before you hurt yourself!" She held out her open hands, and with a small laugh, Mickey jumped onto her palms. "Is that my sewing needle? Oh, Mickey, tell me you weren't using it as a sword again!"

"It's the only one that'll fit me," Mickey countered. "I was just doin' some spring cleaning up in the attic."

"You don't need swords," Daisy said with a huff, removing the needle from Mickey's belt. "You could have cut yourself, or worse!"

Mickey pouted, crossing his arms. "Aw, c'mon! How am I ever going to be a great samurai like Papa if you don't let me practice? A little scratch isn't going to kill me."

"On you, a little scratch isn't so little! I won't hear of it. Now come help me in the kitchen, it's just about dinnertime." She raised her hand to her shoulder, and Mickey grumbled as he walked on. "Helping Mama" was never really helping her at all. She was so terrified of everything being a potential threat to Mickey that all he could do was sit and watch. He loved his mother dearly, but not being allowed to do anything was not a life for him. Changing Daisy's mind wouldn't be easy, but it was still worth the effort.

"Do you know what tomorrow is?" Mickey asked as Daisy began to cut up stalks of celery and leek. "'Cause I've been keeping track, and I think we all know what it is."

"Of course I know." Daisy had calmed down considerably, making sure that the portions were split three ways – two normal servings for her and her husband, and the tiniest bit for Mickey. "Tomorrow's your birthday – it's been almost eighteen years since Papa found you floating out on the stream. It was one of the happiest days of my life." She reached over to gently pat Mickey on the head with one finger. "How could I possibly forget the day you made me so happy? Eighteen years, and it still feels like just yesterday you were saying your first words."

"And most people would consider eighteen to be an adult," Mickey said, sitting down on his mother's shoulder. "In fact, didn't you say Dad was even younger than that when he first took up the sword?"

His mother puffed up her cheeks, annoyed that she'd been caught in a trap of her own making. "That was a long time ago... not to mention there were very different circumstances."

"And how much older was he than me when he first went into battle against an Oni?"

Daisy rubbed her temples. "Oh, why did I tell you those stories?" Even as she asked, she knew why. She wanted father and son to be as close as mother and son were, and it had seemed like the best way to start was to tell Mickey of all his father's grand and glorious adventures. It didn't occur to her until it was too late that Mickey wanted to become the sort of man she was describing. "Mickey, your father took up the sword to protect his family, his land, and his lord, the Emperor."

"But I wanna protect them too!" Mickey said, jumping to his feet. "The Oni are still coming after people! They're never going to stop, so our country needs every man it can get. I bet I could take 'em on, they'd never see me coming!"

"Literally, I imagine." Daisy shook her head. "It didn't always use to be this way, Mickey. The Oni were still dangerous back when your Papa was fighting for the Emperor... but back then, the Oni were beginning to retreat from more battles and walk away with less wounded. The original Oni King was in talks with the Emperor, and they could have made an agreement, come to peace and end it all for good."

Slowly, Mickey began to walk and climb down his mother's arm. "But that's when the Oni King got overthrown, wasn't he?" Mickey hadn't just listened to his mother's stories, but also made valiant effort to read whatever he could get his hands on, no matter how difficult it was to turn a page or unfurl a scroll at his height. "And that jerk took over. And he wanted to take over all of Japan. And he's still trying, after all these years!"

"Sometimes determination can be a terrible thing," Daisy admitted, allowing Mickey to hop off her wrist and land on the counter, as she began to de-bone a fish. "I don't think the Oni King will give up until he's dead and buried. But! We never have to worry about that." She held up her kitchen knife, waving it around and ignoring the bits of fish guts she accidentally began to toss about. "Because your Papa will keep us safe, and Mama will always keep you safe! I'll never let anything happen to you!"

"You can say that again," Mickey muttered under his breath, managing to dodge a hunk of fish belly. "You don't let me work, you don't let me play, you don't let me fight..." Mickey had only seen the outside world handfuls of times. Sometimes when his mother needed to shop or visit family, she'd allow Mickey to come along but to never leave her shoulder. By now the village was used to the odd sight, and knew better than to ask Daisy about him, lest they say the wrong thing and earn her wrath. Mickey had tried to get away when he could, in an effort to play with his vastly taller cousins or even just to try and feed some local strays, but Daisy would always snatch him away, frightened by what could come next. "I just want to help!"

"You do help!" Daisy said, slicing off the fish's head with a great big chop. "Why, just seeing your darling face gives me so much energy and happiness, I feel ten years younger! All you have to do is be there for your Mama, and all is well."

Mickey rolled his eyes. It was the same spiel every day, and he was sick of it. Was he going to be treated this way for the next eighteen years? When he was eighty? Why was he even here if he couldn't help out the people he loved? It was a frustrating existence, and he wanted to argue about it more, but he heard the front door sliding open – in a house this big, sounds could carry a great distance. "He's home!" Cheered up, he flipped off the counter, eager to see his father.

"Ah, Mickey, careful, careful!" Daisy pleaded, hands out, trying to catch her baby boy. But he landed with ease – it always did seem very difficult for him to actually get hurt, even for all her efforts of protection. The only thing he ever seemed to suffer was the occasional headache. Still she gave chase after him, having forgotten about the kitchen knife in her hand.

As expected, Donald had arrived home, though he no longer announced himself when he did. When he officially retired from his duties under the Emperor, he had placed his samurai armor at the graves of his parents as a way of honoring them. Now when he needed it most, he couldn't bring himself to take it back, and had settled for cheap replacements by the local blacksmith that could hardly do the same job. Each piece came off with a heavy sigh, with his scabbard and sword being the last. He had always kept his family's sword, as it had been tradition to hand it down from father to son. Once a proud emblem, he now saw it as a painful reminder of what had been denied to him. He quietly slid off his sandals, rubbing his aching arm, trying to settle the painful throbs. It had been another difficult day, and he suspected tomorrow would be no different.

"Oto-san!" Mickey skidded to a halt at the entrance of the house, eyes shining bright as he looked up at his father, hands clenched together. "Welcome home! How was your day?"

Donald spared him one glance, dark circles under his eyes and his feathers thinning. He then turned to Daisy, who begged him with her eyes to give the boy a chance. Instead, Donald asked, "Is dinner ready?"

"We just started," Daisy replied, frowning at Donald's dismissive treatment of their son. "Mickey asked you a question."

"What does he expect the answer to be?" Donald turned away from his family, heading to the dining room table. "It's the same as it ever was." Ever since the original Oni King had been slain, and the new tyrant had double his efforts for takeover, Donald had been called upon to protect the village with other swordsmen – but his old injury made this difficult. He sat down on the table, rubbing his arm again.

Daisy offered Mickey an apologetic look, but Mickey didn't give up so easily. Instead, he tagged along after Donald, climbing up the table and sitting nearby his father. "How many were there today? Did they have one or two horns? I remember you said that two horns mean they're a lot stronger, one horn means weaker. I wonder why that is?"

"Who knows?" Donald replied dismissively, not even looking at Mickey, watching Daisy pour him a cup of water. He then winced, and rubbed his arm again.

Mickey scooted over, trying to see his father's arm. "Aw, gee... it's really actin' up again, isn't it?"

"It's fine," Donald said, even though it clearly wasn't. "I'm home now, I won't use it, so there's nothing to whine about."

"But it's been gettin' worse day after day, ain't it?" Mickey frowned, concerned. "Maybe... tomorrow you should take the day off, and just let it rest a while."

"I said it's fine," Donald growled, swiping a cup and chugging down water.

"Donald, the boy's only worried about you!" Daisy said, hands on her hips. "And frankly, so am I. If this keeps up, your arm won't be good for anything, much less fighting."

"I don't have a choice!" Donald slammed the empty cup down on the table. "The Oni King doesn't care what happens to us, or even if he really can conquer these smaller villages. We're all just pawns in his game."

Mickey blinked rapidly – this part was news to him. He had always assumed that conquering everything meant – well, conquering everything, having it just for the sake of having it. "If he doesn't care about actually owning the village, then how come he sends his men after us? I thought he wanted to take over all of Japan."

"It's about pressuring the princess," Donald answered, staring down at the empty cup in his good hand. "If the Emperor was still alive, maybe we'd be all right... but he and his wife died in that brutal attack on the capital years ago. Now it's just their daughter, the princess, all alone in the castle. She's supposed to rule over all of Japan, take care of the people... and keep a guard over the Lucky Hammer."

Mickey cocked his head. The term was familiar, but only in passing, and only in a few of his mother's stories. "The Lucky Hammer... isn't that the super special magical tool that only the royal family is supposed to know about?"

"And the people who work for the royal family," Daisy added, coming up behind Donald to rub his shoulders. "But he told me on our first date to impress me."

Donald's cheeks flushed a scarlet hue. "Third date," he grumbled. "And you weren't supposed to tell him! It's a secret for a reason!" Never mind that he just spoke of it himself. Ever since Mickey had entered his life, Donald had found it more and more difficult to take responsibility over his faults. In fact, Donald had become a much more irritable person altogether. "If everyone knew what it was, everyone would try to take it for themselves! It's bad enough the Oni King knows, and that's why he's putting the pressure on her in the first place... If she won't give him the Lucky Hammer, he'll continue hurting us."

"What's the big deal about one hammer?" Mickey asked the inevitable. Although Donald was clearly in a bad mood, Mickey was desperate to keep the conversation going if it meant Donald was acknowledging him in any way. He'd long since given up on being called Donald's son, but still held out hope that eventually Donald would at least enjoy his presence.

"Ah, big deal, that's the right word!" Daisy lightly slapped Donald's shoulder. "It's not a weapon in the traditional sense, Mickey. Legend says that anyone who wields the Lucky Hammer can grow and shrink to any size!"

Mickey's eyes widened. "Any size?"

"Any size means any size," Donald answered. "Imagine trying to take on a single soldier the size of a mountain! A man like that could take over the entire world. So the country's strongest samurai are at the castle to protect it, which leaves the rest of us easy targets... and all we can do is wait until all the Oni die out." Judging by the sound of Donald's tone, that wasn't going to happen anytime soon. It was a cycle of despair and pain, with no clear end in sight.

"Maybe the Oni King will get overthrown himself. It would serve him right." Daisy kissed the top of Donald's head, hoping to plan some seed of reassurance. "Things can't stay the same forever. They never do. One day, there will be peace again."

"Mama's right." Mickey said with a cheerful smile, having inherited her positive spirit. "With soldiers as great as you protecting us, I bet they'll give up real soon! Things always change, so you have to look forward to that!"

Donald slowly looked at Mickey, his expression darkening. "You, of all people, shouldn't say 'things always change.'" While Mickey had "grown" from a baby into a young man, he hadn't changed from the size of a peach pit.

Mickey's smile weakened, though it didn't really go away. He chuckled nervously. "Well, I, uh... I guess I'm the exception to the rule." He hastily tried to change the subject. "But one thing about me is going to change tomorrow! It'll be my birthday. Why, I'll be a real adult by then. Isn't that great?"

Donald didn't answer that, instead closing his eyes and crossing his arms. "Are you ever going to make dinner?"

"Dinner is for people who acknowledge birthdays." Daisy flicked Donald on the back of his head, making him wince. "I'm making a meal for myself and our son. If you want any, you better have a very good birthday present for him!" The underlying threat was clear – if Donald didn't at least make an effort tomorrow, she was going to make him pay. She then smiled sweetly at Mickey, always able to turn her emotions on a dime. "And Mama's got such a wonderful present for you, Mickey! Oh, I almost wish I could give it to you now! But no more silly 'man' talk, you'll always be my precious baby." She leaned down to poke his cheek, and after a bit more cooing, she frolicked back to the kitchen.

Mickey watched his mother go, wondering what she really expected. Donald had never given Mickey any birthday presents before, why start now? Mickey didn't blame him, he was rather impossible to shop for. Instead, he rolled his shoulders and faced his father again. "I don't need anything," he said. "As long as you always come home safe and found, gosh, that's the best present ever."

Donald didn't look at him, and seemed to be making every active effort not to. What did the boy have to be so cheery about? It only served to irritate Donald more and more. If Donald was in Mickey's position, he'd have every right to be constantly miserable – which, nowadays, wasn't too different from how Donald's life was already. So where did all of Mickey's mirth come from?

Mickey planned on continuing the conversation further, perhaps asking how Donald's own eighteenth birthday had gone, when he picked up a noise from outside – despite his small size, his big ears had an amazing habit of listening to what others couldn't hear. "Is someone coming?" It was a late hour to have visitors. Donald raised an eyebrow, and got to his feet, continuously rubbing his arm as if it was bad omen of things to come.

The front door was slammed open, and one of their neighbors spilled themselves onto the floor, hastily picking themselves up after. "S-Sir Donald!" He gasped for breath, clutching his chest. "The Oni... they've regrouped!"

"What?!" Donald scrambled to the entrance, and Daisy, overhearing the yell, poked her head out of the kitchen, and Mickey had jumped down from the table, running over to see the commotion. "Already?! It's only been a few hours!"

"They were given a command..." The neighbor looked back outside, eyes wide with fear. "Either they take over the village, or die by the Oni King's hand! They're not going to retreat this time! They're laying siege to your grandmother's farm! It's as if hell has opened up!"

Donald swore under his breath, and made a hasty effort to grab bits and pieces of his armor – from the sound of things, he had no time to don the entire outfit. "Get everyone there as soon as possible! I'll be there-" But when he made to pull out his sword, his entire arm objected, and he grunted hard in pain, staggering to one knee.

"Donald!" Daisy sprinted to her husband's side, with Mickey watching on in horror. "You can't possibly go out there now! Your arm needs to rest!"

Donald shoved her off as gently as he could. "I have to go," he said between harsh breaths, the pain so great he could feel it throb throughout his entire body. "I don't have a choice! I will not let my home fall!" Daisy objected again and again, but Donald was already out the door, the neighbor leading him away to the forefront of the battle.

Mickey stared at the open doorway, his mind and heart racing. His father had said these battles would continue until the Oni died... or maybe until the people died. No matter how great a warrior his father was, he was only human, and he needed help. What kind of man was Mickey if he couldn't be there for his family? "I'm going too!" Without waiting or thinking for another second, he dashed out into the fading night, leaving the safety of his home behind.

"Mickey!" His mother cried out for him, and reached down to try and grab him, but the boy was much too fast when he wanted to be. When she came outside, the world had grown too dark for her to see where he'd gone, and she wildly searched the ground for any sign of her son. She called out his name, over and over again, to the point of screaming it in utmost terror.


The tales of Oni had been so widespread across Japan that eventually they became wild and distorted. Their appearances and abilities varied in stories from region to region, and this was the same for Mickey. For all his mother's stories, he thought the Oni would be hideous savages that caused nightmares on sight alone. He was afraid of meeting them, but his noble heart was far stronger. He followed his father all the way to the farm, dodging the footsteps of panicked people who were running away in the opposite direction. One of them, a fisherman, had dropped his pole and Mickey stopped when he saw an opportunity.

Thinking quickly, he ripped off the circular hook from the string – it would be an unusual sword, but he was very unusual himself. Gripping it in both hands, he resumed the chase after his father, who appeared not to have noticed the extra addition.

The growing garden of the farm had been set on fire, and the handfuls of soldiers couldn't afford to save both the plants and themselves. Grandma Duck had to be "rescued" away kicking and screaming, wanting to fight the Oni herself with a garden hoe. By the time Donald arrived, several soldiers already laid in the tilled dirt, wounded and groaning. There were only five Oni in this battle, but they were more than enough to take on the entire village's worth of men.

They were also much more human than Mickey ever thought they could be. Yes, they had small, stubby horns sticking out of their skulls – four of them had one horn, the fifth had two and appeared to be the leader – and they all wore pelts made out of the deadly tiger, but aside from that they could have been mistaken from any casual commoner walking along the marketplace. There were no grotesque faces or lumbering muscles – they were men, same as him, same as his father. How odd, Mickey thought, and now he wondered what other real differences there were between them.

But this was not the time for philosophical debates – Donald whipped out his sword, though his body trembled as he held the blade in both hands. "Leave this place at once!" He roared, eyes hot with anger. "Or I'll use your ashes for my grandmother's fertilizer!"

Mickey had also thought the voice of the Oni would be low and gravely, the sort of sound bones make when clattering together in a ghost story. But again, what came out didn't sound any different than what he heard on the daily. "Stand down, samurai. This village is as good as ours! Accept your rule under the great and powerful Oni King!"

"Never! We will only ever be ruled by Princess Minerva! Long may she reign!" He then charged into battle, letting out a warrior's cry – the nearest Oni lifted his own weapon, a spiked club, same as his brethren, and they clashed together, metal against metal, soldier against soldier. For a moment, Mickey could only watch in awe – Donald had sent the club flying, and dealt a bloody slash across the Oni's chest, sending them stumbling backwards. Two more Oni came at him, and he fought them at the same time, his speed swift, his strength immeasurable, his sword a glistening ray of hope among the blaze. It was truly like seeing Daisy's stories come to life.

But the stories never had Donald shouldering a serious former injury, and just as Donald raised his blade to unleash another devastating blow, his arm betrayed him, sending a terrible spike of sheer agony up his body. He faltered, dropping his sword, gasping for air – allowing the leader of the Oni to strike his back down hard with his club. Donald fell to the ground, groaning.

"Papa!" At once Mickey snapped back into reality, and he rushed in, running around the burning leeks and vegetables. He would not let his father die here! "For the honor of the Duck clan!" His declaration of family honor went unheard, as he was very small and the roaring blaze drowned him out. He tried to envision himself living out one of his mother's stories, the brave samurai slicing down all his enemies with a single swing of his blade. He was the son of Donald Duck, and would carry on the proud family tradition of noble warriors!

Except story and reality weren't the same at all, and while his intentions were indeed noble, his options were severely limited. He made it all the way to the head Oni's foot, and attempted to make a swift slash, same as his father had done mere moments before. While the hook was sharp and blood was drawn, it didn't send the Oni down in pain.

"Ow!" The Oni flinched, and he nudged his foot in the dirt. "I must have tripped on the man's sword... ah well. Find the leader of the village, and have him swear loyalty to us. That should be good enough for our King, and maybe he'll leave us alone, to – OW!" He hadn't moved that time, so how could he have tripped. He looked down, and blinked rapidly at the sight of a very small boy trying to cut up his foot with a fish hook. "Who let this child here?"

"I am not a child!" Mickey retorted, holding up his "sword" as high as he could. "Leave my village, or else face the wrath of the almighty Duck clan!"

Donald's eyes snapped open. "Mickey?!"

The Oni furrowed his brows, and then reached down to pick up Mickey by the scruff of his clothes. Mickey yelped, and swung the fish hook all over, trying and failing to be released. The Oni inspected him carefully, as if trying to search for something but unable to find it. One of the weaker Oni lightly prodded his master along. "Come on, we don't have time for this. Forget the child, we have to worry about our own skin."

"I am not a child!" Mickey said again, angrier than before. "I won't allow you to take over my homeland! Take this, and that, and some of these!" He swung and swung and swung and only sliced air.

The head Oni agreed with his minion, and released Mickey, letting him drop to the ground. Donald quickly held out his hands to catch him. "What are you doing here?!"

"I'm here to help!" Mickey answered, still having full faith in his plan despite every single clear obstacle shown before him. "We can't let the Oni take over the village! I'll show 'em what for!" He hopped out of his father's palm, just as the Oni were beginning to walk on towards their next destination. "Your wicked ways end here!" With a burst of speed and energy, he dashed forward and jabbed the fish hook into one of the larger Oni's heel – and got it stuck.

The Oni howled in pain and irritation, turned around. "Why you little...! I don't care if you are a child, I've had enough of this!" He raised his foot, intending to smash Mickey to bits.

"No!" Donald quickly crawled towards his son, snatching him up in his hands, and using his body as a shield to cover him.

The Oni was still angry, and settled for kicking Donald over and over, hitting his sides and his badly hurting arm. "If you all just surrendered, we wouldn't have to do this! Rotten mortals! Stupid mortals! Each and every last one of you is a weakling, and weaklings should just obey the strong!"

Mickey squirmed in his father's tight grasp, trying to break free, but couldn't. Even worse, he could see all the pain the Oni was causing him – Donald's body shook with great tremors, and shameful tears flooded his eyes. It was taking all of Donald's strength now just to protect Mickey, and when the Oni finally stopped kicking, Donald collapsed onto the dirt, his breath slow and weak.

The elder head Oni pulled his younger companion along, quietly rebuking him for such a shameful act, though the other refused to apologize for his actions as he limped along, yanking the hook out of his heel. They walked away, heading on for their next target. The smoke from the burning farmland reached up into the sky, creating a dark cloud of misery over the entire village. Within the hour, the village leader would reluctantly cede control and promise loyalty to the Oni King and all his rule.

Within the present, Mickey watched despairingly as his father struggled just to get on his knees again, after what felt like an eternity had passed. Donald only let Mickey go when he could no longer hear the footsteps of the Oni, and he was fully certain Mickey wouldn't be in any danger. His hands parted slowly, and he settled Mickey onto the ground. Sweat rolled down his feathers, but he still had enough strength to be angry. "What were you thinking!" He hissed, picking up his sword and placing it back in its scabbard. "You could have gotten killed!"

"I..." Micky fought for words, the full weight of his actions making him feel as heavy as the ocean. He was drowning in the smoke around them, in the consequences of his eagerness, and he knew nothing he could say would save either of them. He hands fell pathetically at his side, and he wanted to look away, his father's burning glare making him feel even smaller. "I just... I just wanted to help..."

"Help? How can you possibly help anyone?" Donald pointed an accusatory finger at Mickey, as if his height wasn't obvious enough. "You can't do anything! All you did was cause more trouble for me! You'll never be any taller, you'll never be anything more than you are! As long as you're small, you'll never be able to help anyone!" He began to walk away, his body taking on a limp as a response to the endless pain in every nerve.

Mickey took three steps forward, his tiny hand outstretched. "Oto-san, I just... I wanted..."

That only made things worse, as Donald whipped his head around, almost spitting with his snarl. "Don't you dare! You're not a member of the Duck Clan, you're not a part of this village, and you are not my son!" His arm seized up, and he hissed in pain, clutching it. He forced himself to walk again, and for a brief moment, he wondered if his pain was in response to what he knew was a terrible thing to say, as if he was being punished for his words. Yet he couldn't bring himself to take them back.

Maybe if Mickey actually listened for once, he'd never put himself in danger again.

Mickey stood there, watching his father walk away, his hand still out yet not truly making an effort to reach him anymore. The fire raged on, and the village was lost, and while neither of these things were Mickey's fault, they plunged deep into his heart further than any sword could. For the first time in his life, Mickey wished he was smaller, smaller still, so small that he could vanish completely and never bother anyone ever again.

Like all the other wishes Mickey had since birth, this one also did not come true.