The man was dressed entirely in black with a large, shadowy hood obscuring his face. He was in a stunned position, and was very evidently staring at Sora. A chill shot through the key, and Sora took an involuntary step back. "H-hey! I don't like weird guys staring at me, so knock it off!" he snapped, trying to sound brave enough to be threatening, but the man slowly lifted one arm and pointed to Sora, who raised the key in front of him defensively. The man murmured one word: "Keyblade."

"Wha…?" Sora cocked his head, lowering his guard, "This?" He held the key up a little higher, but this seemingly insignificant action severely alarmed the hooded man. He wheeled around, screaming madly.

"Keyblade! This kid's got a Keyblade!" At that, figures in hoods came pouring out of all exits of the building. They arrived in a massive swarm which nearly overtook Sora, but paused a respectable distance away. One man stood at a balcony, high above the heads of the others. In a low, bass voice, he muttered, "After him." Immediately the cloaks pressed towards Sora, who cried out and took off in the opposite direction.

It occurred to Sora to relinquish the key in order to save his skin, but the warming sensation had begun again, and it filled him with something that had the semblance of courage. No, he would not give in. He had to escape. With this newfound determination, Sora darted towards a stack of crates that leaned against a nearby hat shop. One hand still clinging to the key, he wrestled his way up the boxes, finally hurling himself onto the roof and racing away. The cloaked figures, being heavier, were not able to follow suit as the unsturdy crates cracked under their weight.

In spite of his mounting fear, Sora couldn't help but laugh at the attempts of the cloaks to leap up the sides of buildings while still maintaining pace with him. With his free hand, he pulled the corner of his mouth and stuck out his tongue, hearing gasps and cries of frustration. He was going to get away! He could see the edge of the town! There was no way they could catch him now, and he was barely—Ack!

Sora's foot suddenly caught in the straw matting of a building that uniquely, did not use tile roofing. Rather than appreciating this, Sora flailed his arms madly, trying to keep his balance, but the roof was not equipped to support even his weight, and when he lost the battle against gravity, Sora came crashing through the surface. He hit the floor with a groan, rolling onto his side and clutching his stomach.

"Oh! Ah, nice to see you, lad, (a little early, I might add) but, ah, may I inquire…" Sora opened his eyes weakly, his head spinning and trying to catch his breath. There was an old man standing above him with an impossibly long beard who was holding a lantern up to Sora's face. "That is the Keyblade, is it not?"

Sora nodded feebly, even though he was not quite certain himself. The old man picked him up by the shoulders with surprising strength, then sat him down on a stool Sora could have sworn wasn't there before. It wasn't until the old man conjured a red plush sitting chair out of thin air that Sora found his voice again. "You're a wizard!" he yelped, scooting backwards, then winced as his head throbbed. The old man chuckled.

"Yes, and a dashing good one, I must say!" He sat back in his chair, calling forward a cup of steaming tea and a biscuit. "Cream or sugar?"

"Hold on, wait, I can't stay here! There are these guys, they're after me, they'll see where I fell, they'll come here and—"

"You have approximately four minutes and thirty-six seconds before they arrive," he responded quietly. "In the meantime, I would very much like to explain a thing or two to you."

Sora slowly sat back into his chair. An explanation was more than welcome.

"Your name?"

"Sora."

"That's all?"

"I never had a family."

"Never?"

"That's right."

"Interesting…" the old man leaned backwards, placing his slender fingers together with a thoughtful look on his face. He stayed silently like this for a time, and Sora grew impatient.

"Look, if I've only got four minutes and thirty-six seconds—"

"Three minutes, forty-five, now."

"Right, okay, that," Sora tried to mask his exasperation. "I'd really like to hear—"

"Oh, and it's Merlin, by the way," the old man said suddenly. "And it would be more appropriate for you to introduce yourself as 'Master Sora,' I think."

"Master?" Sora repeated, skeptical but intrigued.

"That Keyblade is yours, correct?"

"Well, I found it. I guess it could be someone else's," Sora mused, then realized, "Hey, is that why those guys want it back? Is it theirs?" The old wizard laughed again, but this time not so warmly.

"No no no no, the Keyblade has never belonged to the Church. But I daresay, they'd like it to. Whatever you do, keep it safe. Especially from them."

Sora held the key up to his face, noticing that in the dimly lit hut that it was glowing faintly. "Keyblade," he said to it softly, and the familiar warmth pulsed in response. "Why are they after you, huh? What's so special about you?"

Merlin leaned forward in his seat, the light emanating from the Keyblade making his many wrinkles more pronounced with shadows. "It has many secrets waiting to be brought out by the True Keybearer. Many have tried to coax it to be theirs, but their hearts were not pure. They were consumed by their lust for power, and were lost to the darkness." Sora looked up with concern, meeting the old man's eyes.

"What does this thing do, exactly?" he asked with trepidation.

"It is the key to every heart," Merlin muttered mysteriously, then extracted a scroll of paper from his sleeve. As he unrolled it, the edges cracked and crumbled. "I am that thou are. The beginning and the end." In a puff of dust, the scroll vanished, and Merlin looked very seriously at Sora. "I can only tell you what I have seen throughout my history: the Keyblade is a dangerous weapon. When it was forged in a time no one can remember, there was but light in the world. But when the Keyblade was discovered to open every heart, even that of the World, a shadow was cast on the hearts of all men who saw it. They desired this control beyond reason, growing jealous and angry, even fighting wars for the ownership of the Keyblade. Their hearts became black, and their eyes blinded against the light. Therefore was evil brought into the World. Evil, and Malefi—"

"Open up, old man! We know you've got the boy in there!" Someone was pounding loudly and violently on the door, threatening to break it down.

"Oh, balderdash," cursed the old wizard, "Seventeen seconds early, too." With a wave of his hand, the door flew open, and three hooded men stumbled in.

"I was in the middle of tea with my young friend here," said the wizard haughtily, standing up. "I had better hope this is important."

"We're not gonna lay a finger on you, old man, got it memorized? We're just here for the kid."

"By my beard, I should say not! The boy is staying with me, if I have anything to say about it!"

The tallest of the hooded figures snorted. "Look, we know your rules, old man. You can't cast a spell that would harm another being, we know that."

Sora took a step in front of Merlin, grip tightening on the handle of the Keyblade. "Leave him alone," he said in a low voice.

"Heh, the kid's got guts!"

Merlin rested a firm hand on Sora's shoulder to keep him from advancing.

"Maybe I haven't made myself clear. The boss had got something pretty special for your little friend here, and he'd like to hand it over to him, so hand him over."

"I say, no!"

"You want that face of yours to stay pretty, old man?!"

"I hope you've had your fun in human form, pig!"

"What!"

The tall hooded man produced a spiked wheel from under his cloak and twirled it around his fingers menacingly. Having enough of it, Sora elbowed off Merlin's hand and forced his way in between the arguing men.

"Alright, listen to me! I'll take whatever it is you've got for me, but then you gotta leave us alone, okay!" he shouted, and the Keyblade flashed brightly, causing everyone to take a step back. "I am NOT going with you!"

One of the hooded figures nodded to the tall one briefly, who produced an envelope from his pocket and held it out to Sora. "This might change your mind."

Sora struggled to make out the fancy handwriting on the return address until Merlin took the envelope into his own hands. "The SYGP…?" he breathed. "You don't mean that he's been…?"

"Invited," bowed the tallest of the trio. "Courtesy of the Church of the XIII." Faltering, Merlin took a step back and collapsed into his armchair, clearly flustered.

"Whadaya say, kid? You coming?" the tallest one nodded his head at Sora who looked to Merlin for advice.

"I-I'm not going with you," he repeated uncertainly, but Merlin shook his head.

"Allow me some time alone with the boy. I'll explain to him." The old wizard looked tired, and waved the three out of the room. They complied, but left with the unmistakable air of victors.

"I hadn't foreseen this," Merlin muttered to himself, covering his face with one hand. "Go on, sit back down."

"What happened?" asked Sora shakily, feeling as if he had once again done something wrong. Merlin, who had returned to his cup of tea, looked up at Sora and smiled sadly.

"You have been referred by the Church of the XIII to attend the greatest training school of our time," his gaze fell and he resumed stirring his tea slowly. "Those who study there become…legends." Sora's eyes widened, and a grin spread across his face.

"Then this is great, right? I can learn how to use the Keyblade properly and stuff!"

"Yes, if they can teach you that…" Merlin said wistfully. "And they have the most fantastic of libraries, too…"

Not that Sora was all that fond of reading, a task that came to him with difficulty, but the mention of the-most-fantastic-of-anything was bound to excite the boy. "Aww, man, this is great! I can leave the house, I won't be a burden to Mister or Missus, and I can—"

"Aha, that's it! The pay, how will you pay for tuition, eh?" the wizard jumped up triumphantly, but his enthusiasm fell when he saw the expression on Sora's face. "But, ah, I suppose…I suppose I could help you with that…at the beginning."

"Aw, nah, don't worry about it," Sora shrugged and faked a grin. "Who wants to go to a boring school, anyway?" He felt a knot rising in his throat, and got up, beginning to back away. "I gotta go. Y'know, got to run errands and stuff."

"Sora, perhaps I was—"

"Don't worry about it!" shouted Sora miserably, then took off running out the door. There was the impending smell of rain hanging in the air, and the streets were cleared, even of the cloaks. For a moment, what had he believed? That he was meant for something greater? That he would be able to find his friend? Even his family…?

The cloud burst overhead, and as Sora slowed down, allowing himself to become drenched, he thought regretfully of the hole he had punched through Merlin's roof. He supposed it wouldn't be much of a hassle for a wizard to fix, but he still imagined the old man forgetting that he had left it there and getting his seat cushions ruined. He approached the steps leading up to the house that had taken him in, and tried to wipe his muddy feet clean on the rug, though it seemed to only be spreading it around. Before he could open the door, it had swung wide with a beaming Missus framed in its interior. Seeing the pathetic figure on her front step, Missus reached out and pulled Sora into a hug. He accepted it, hugging her back tightly. It was too much, too much. He'd lost everything, and now that he'd thought he could get it back, it was lost to him again. Sora found himself leaking tears onto Missus' shoulder, and pulled back, wiping his nose against his gloves. "I-I'm sorry," he murmured, but Missus shook her head.

"Why don't you tell me all about it, hun?" she said gently, coaxing him inside.

Sora had spilled everything, about Merlin, about the Church of the XIII, and about the key and letter. He handed over the soggy, dripping envelope, while Missus poured grape soda into a glass, thoughtfully. "The School for Youths of Great Potential," she read aloud. "That really is something, Sora." He shrugged, and drew his still muddy feet up with him on the kitchen chair. "Hmm, how ever will we afford to send you?"

"You won't. I'm not becoming a greater burden to this family," Sora said firmly.

"Oh, but you simply must go! Think of all you've told me, and you may even—" The door opened and closed with a slam.

"Who the blazes tracked mud all over the foyer? Aha, a trail! Let us see where it leads, shall we!" Sora groaned and thunked his head against the kitchen table.

"You! Of course you are perpetrator! Where are you working, then?"

"He is not employed yet, darling, but see—"

"Not employed? Not employed! We shall see who eats under my roof who is not employed!"

"See, darling!" And Missus shoved the letter directly under Mister's nose, making the large seal on the back quite easy to distinguish. "He has been offered a scholarship." Sora's head bolted up right. What scholarship?

"A scholarship you say…" the man frowned and went to find his spectacles in his pocket, but seemed to have misplaced them. He was, however, able to distinguish the letters SYGP. "Why, that's quite a hefty price tag."

"But think, if the boy has a scholarship, learning a trade—"

"Being a legend, is that really a trade?" scoffed Mister, though he seemed to be steadily more convinced.

"And he would be out of the house."

"Ah, well, I think I've had a splendid idea, then! Send him off, far away; let him do what he pleases! Then collect the subsidy we earn from keeping a refugee. That's all there is to be done, darling," Missus feigned protest. "That is all. Good night."

As Mister strolled up the stairs, Missus daintily placed the spectacles she had been concealing behind her back on the table. Sora stared at her incredulously. "Missus," he said hoarsely, "I don't have a scholarship."

"No," she replied coolly. "But I'll think of a way."

"But what if Mister—"

"You leave my hot-headed husband up to me. We have been married some twenty-five years or so, I should know a thing or two about him by now." Sora buried his face in his hands, fighting the urge to cry once again. "Get an education, Sora," she smiled, when suddenly, a loud rapping on the window made them both jump. A somewhat distressed looking owl was perched on the sill, a letter in its beak and a cross expression on its face. Once Missus had opened the window and removed the scroll, it puffed up its feathers indignantly, squawked an ironic "Good day to you, too, madam!" and fluttered off into the rain.

Missus handed the scroll to Sora, who found his name written on it in long, sprawling blue ink. He unrolled it, and read:

My dear, Sora,

Sorry about the scare, old chap. Might have been a little too quick tempered on my behalf. Why not consider this a loan then, eh?

-M

A small note fluttered to the ground which read as an IOU for the amount of munny the school had requested, and on the back said in the same blue ink: I do expect this refunded in full.

Sora looked up at Missus, nodding slowly. "I'll go."