Meta-Knight learns early that Kirby rarely speaks.
Sure, he didn't talk much either, but he knew how to make conversation. He didn't even know if Kirby could say anything besides his own name. It doesn't bother him that much, but he hates noticing it whenever someone says hi to Kirby, how the boy would just smile and wave instead of replying. It stuck out in the back of his mind, though, he doubted Kirby had good enough parents to teach him how to talk if he was six years old and living on the streets.
And now that horrible pity was back, the sadness that ripped his heart to shreds at the fact at how kind and caring Kirby was, how he was cold and angry while Kirby was bright and warm, despite the fact that they were in the same situation.
"Kirby!" He called out, and those clear blue eyes made contact with his. That was another thing Meta-Knight notices; how Kirby always stares right into people's eyes.
The eyes are the windows to your soul.
He shook off the unease of that thought. He had been watching Kirby and had noticed the boy getting too far away from him for his liking. Kirby walked over, his pink sweatshirt easily seen through the crowds of people, but was pushed to the ground with a yelp. Cold fury spread through Meta-Knight like ice, and the crowd scattered, leaving the few people who dared stay in plain sight. Kirby pushed himself up off the ground, blinking in confusion, but otherwise looking no worse for wear, and while Meta-Knight felt some sort of relief at that, the rage he felt was still freezing his eyes onto the culprit who had a deer in the headlights expression on his face. Since it was a crowded area, Meta-Knight could've believed that it was an accident, but the man's arms were frozen in a position that showed clearly that he had pushed Kirby to the ground on purpose. He glared, running up faster than intended, and grabbed the man by the collar of his shirt "Excuse me, but can you explain to me what you just did?" He growled out, yellow eyes flashing dangerously beneath his mask. The man shook in fear, but choked out a response.
"I was just helping ya out, so ya don't have ta pretend ya like the kid!" At those words, Meta-Knight's vision narrowed.
"I don't pretend to like Kirby. He is a good friend, and I think he ought to get an apology from you," The words were full of venom, and Kirby got up, walking over and tugging at his cape. Meta-Knight gave him his most neutral face, and looked down as calmly as he could. "Hey Kirby, are you alright?" He said this because Kirby had just started healing from the wounds of before, the bruises just barely fading. Kirby smiles up at him, and God, Meta-Knight doesn't realize how wound up he was until he finally relaxed.
"Poyo!" Kirby shouts in reply, the second word Meta-Knight has ever hear him speak. Then, Kirby pulls at his jacket, on the sleeve of the hand holding the man up, and gives him some sort of glare. "Poyo!" He repeats, but the tone is much different, and it seems to convey a message only he can determine. He sets the man down, but lets him know one more thing.
"Tell everyone you know that if they touch Kirby, I will not hesitate to kill them," He growls, low and cold, and the man runs of, shouting sorry behind him. Kirby nods approvingly, grabbing Meta-Knight's cape and pulling him along. "Where are we going?" He asks, though he knows that he probably won't get an answer.
He does.
"Poyo!" Kirby replies, and Meta-Knight figures that with Kirby, words were never needed anyway.
Besides, he figures the kid can pick up some phrases as he grows up.
One day, Kirby disappears, and Meta-Knight panics.
His mind is screaming at him, yelling that he's so stupid, that Kirby probably left him just like everyone else, like his parents or his old 'friends', but the other half was screaming that Kirby could be hurt, could be dying alone in a back alley, and he couldn't tell which predicament was worse. He runs, practically a blur in the crowd, and he looks everywhere, but Kirby is gone.
Suddenly he hears a cry.
"AIIII!" That's Kirby's voice, and it's a yelp of pain, and suddenly Meta-Knight can't think, just runs, jumping over rooftops and into the small building where the same men from the other day who had tripped Kirby were now kicking him around like a soccer ball. He jumps down to the ground with ease, and everyone steps back, eyes wide, and Meta-Knight feels his eyes flash brightly, but he doesn't care. He takes out his sword, the orange blade glows, shining, and the hilt is comfortable in his hand.
"None of you are leaving alive," He growls, and they pale. Kirby cries, and Meta-Knight turns back, seeing fat tears rolling down the young boys cheeks, mixing with the blood from cuts on Kirby's face.
They did this to him!
Everything blurs red.
When Meta-Knight's vision becomes clear, his sword feels heavy in his hands, and the men around him are dead.
Well, almost dead.
Kirby was walking to them and wrapping their wounds, the ones they inflicted on himself still bleeding, and he gave them each a kind smile as he helped them. When Meta-Knight took a step forward, Kirby's head whipped around, and cold blue eyes met yellow. Kirby's eyes dared Meta-Knight to walk closer, to try to attack again, and one hand gripped the hammer Meta-Knight had gotten him just days before. Meta-Knight took a step back, and Kirby turned back to his work.
Leave it to a kid to leave him utterly confused, angry,...
and maybe just a little bit scared.
Kirby knew Meta-Knight was a nice person.
The guy went out of his way to protect him, a small child that did nothing for him. Still, Kirby had to draw the line when Meta-Knight tried to kill people.
Kill people!
It was like watching a horror movie, played on repeat over and over, and Kirby finally pressed the stop button, and Meta-Knight's eyes unclouded, the red tinted irises now back to clear yellow. And then Kirby can relax, just for a moment, a breath he'd been holding finally let out, before every part of him tensed again. Meta-Knight took a step forward, and Kirby glared at him, eyes conveying a perfect message.
Back off.
Kirby could forgive Meta-Knight. The guy was around 15, a kid, despite his adult-like attitude, and even if the guy tried to act all mature. What Meta-Knight didn't know was that he was falling.
At fifteen, he was falling, kicking and screaming all the way, and while it was somehow heroic, it was sad horribly depressing, because no one was there to catch him.
So Kirby resolved that he would.
The next day after the...incident is a rough one.
Kirby pretends like it never happened, but Meta-Knight can see the quiet looks of apprehension when he gets close, the slight bit of distrust in Kirby's eyes.
It hurts.
He doesn't know what to say, what to do, because he's never really hurt someone's feelings. Rather, he had many times before, but he had never cared.
He cares now.
He walks awkwardly through the streets, as though he's never been down them before, even though he knows the roads like the back of his hand. He thinks he hears a cry for help, but his mind is too numb to process it. Kirby pulls his sleeve, dragging him along, and Meta-Knight stumbles almost blindly. When they finally get to where Kirby wants them to be, it's a small empty alley, and Kirby takes them to the back of it. Meta-Knight feels his hands shake, finally looking down to see the blood on them, feels the same liquid on his face. He looks up for a second, and then he's falling towards the ground.
Kirby catches him.
He lays him against the wall, taking out a small rag and wiping the blood away, off of his face and hands and mask. Kirby takes off his purple hoodie and washes it, putting it up to dry. The rest of Meta-Knight's clothes were able to not get blood stained, and while Kirby is doing all of this, Meta-Knight realizes with a painful clench of his heart that this was probably where Kirby had lived before he had moved in with him.
When Kirby is finished, he picks up an old, weathered down book and gives it to Meta-Knight. He looks at Meta-Knight imploringly, before sitting down and laying against him, head resting on Meta-Knight's chest.
It's his way of saying that it's okay.
Meta-Knight looks down at the book, and with his homeschooled education, deciphers the text.
"The Ugly Duckling," He reads aloud, and Kirby claps his hands together in excitement, looking up at him with those too-big-to-be-real blue eyes. The eyes that show pure trust, love, care, and everything that Meta-Knight thought had been washed away. Kirby nuzzles into his chest some more, waiting for the book to be read, and Meta-Knight realizes how nice the alley is compared to his own home.
Kirby had brought him to a place to restart, he realizes. Far away from gangs, close to the market, a place so charmingly worn-down it felt like...like home.
He's never had a home before, besides the old little house he had made, but Kirby was giving him one.
He opens up the book, and smiles.
