It was pretty difficult, this talking thing. What with all the work necessary to blow some air past your mouth and make sure that its sculpted into the right sounds. And all the different sounds and meanings for a single word! You couldn't at all be sure that you were saying what you meant, or even saying anything that actually had a meaning beyond random gibberish.
So ran the thoughts in the young, green-haired child's mind. The boy was sitting at a desk, staring a small book that lay before him. It illustrated the various methods and sounds that could be uttered from the lips of any person, but in such a way that it was so complicated that it would be near impossible for anyone to understand. But of course, the boy did not know that, and, amazingly, he was able to understand everything written in the book. Perhaps this child was genius. Perhaps he was just a mental oddity. Who was to know? Who was to care? Either way, he was learning to speak much more quickly than any normal human should have learned.
Across from him sat the man, the tall one with the brown hair and the beard or, as the child had since learned, was a goatee. As the boy read the words and pronunciations that were in the book, the man nodded.
"Ver…ell. Let…tinue…thing else," the boy heard the man say. Despite all his quick learning of speaking, he still had difficulty applying the knowledge to the more practical use of listening and actual talking. He suffered an attack of anxiety as he realized that he hadn't picked up a few of the sounds, and the message had been jumbled. His eyes flickered from the man's eyes back down to the book as he strained his brain to figure out what the man had said and whether he needed a response.
Ver…ver…ver, he pondered, Very! Following this, he finally figured out the message.
"Yes," he said, slowly, carefully enunciating each syllable, "let us continue with the…lessons." The man nodded and smiled. He removed the book from the table and got up, searching the shelves that populated the room in which the two of them were. The boy had thought that this place was a library, but when he figured it was much too small and that, except for the two of them, it was always empty. He lost his train of thought as he noticed the man take a book from a shelf, riffle through it, and bring it back to the table.
"This will do," he said as he set it down. He opened it and pushed it toward the child. The boy looked down at it, and began to read aloud.
"P-p-points in ma-ma-material…objects at which…the fon-fonons comp-composing th-those objects tend to g-gath-gather are known as…'fon slots'." he read slowly and haltingly. The man across from him nodded as he read. This small encouragement and praise, as well as his increasing comfort in reading out loud, allowed the small boy to read the text more smoothly.
"These exist in all matter, including in the surface of the planet itself. Of these latter fon slots, the ten major fon slots are called…" He blanched as he realized that he didn't know the last word. He stared at it for a time, slowly mouthing it out to himself. He glanced up at the man but, seeing no gesture of aid or care, looked back down.
"Sefe…Sepe…Umm," he murmured to himself. He was shaking in nervousness as he tried repeatedly to sound the word out. The boy looked up nervously at the man, who just shook his head. He returned his eyes to the word, his brow furrowing, and frowned. After a moment, he heard the rustling of clothing.
"The word is 'Sepiroth'," the man across from him said gruffly as he got up. He pulled the book from under the boy's eyes and placed it back on the shelf. The child could feel a tiny bit of despair as he realized that he just might have failed the lesson. He watched as the tall man made his way over to the door. The man turned to the child and opened the door, nodding toward it. The child got up sadly, his eyes turned toward the floor, his shoulder hunched as he shuffled his feet toward the egress of the room.
"There is someone I need you to meet," said the man, startling the boy out of his sadness, and he looked up at the man.
"Who?" he asked. The man merely shook his head.
"You will see when I take you to him," was his response. The boy pondered as to whom that someone might be, but the only person he knew that was not himself was the man beside him. So he gave up on trying to figure out where he was taken and was satisfied to be surprised.
And how surprised he was. The place to which the man took the boy was relatively close to the small bookroom. The man had stood by the door while the boy entered, but did not enter himself. As the child walked in, the man closed the door softly, but the boy still jumped at the soft thump that came with the closing. The room was cold and bare, the walls and floor seemingly made of metal, and not a piece of decoration or furniture existed in there. The boy shivered in his simple robes that hung down to his knees. He glanced around the room with his emerald eyes, looking for anything, causing his green hair to sway back and forth across his face. As he lifted his arms to brush away the stray strands, he noticed that one of the shadows seemed out of place. Upon closer inspection, there seemed to be a person standing in the shadows.
"Is someone there?" he called meekly, almost not expecting an answer. He heard a small chuckle in response. For some reason, the laugh chilled him to the bones.
"Indeed, there is," came a voice from the same place. One foot made its way out of the shadows and another followed it soon after. And…the boy was once again looking in the mirror. For before him was another boy who had the exact same appearance as himself. Startled, the boy reached out, expecting the other to do so as well. But, the other didn't. All he did was smile at the confusion on the boy's face. It was dark smile, filled with irony and cruelty and loathing.
"Wh-who are you?" asked the confused boy. The grin on the other's face grew even wider.
"Oh? You don't know, do you?" he asked, tauntingly, "Well, kneel before me, for I am Fon Master Ion, head of the Order of Lorelei!" He remained grinning at the other boy's confusion.
"Excellent," he continued, "You don't understand." The one who called himself Ion gave the dark chuckle again. The other boy blinked as he tried to understand as to how someone so similar to him, but not him, could be standing before him. This Ion shook his head, his smile never faltering.
"So stupid," he growled, staring at the boy. The boy looked up at him, his eyebrows tilted in anger.
"I…I am not stupid!" he managed to stammer out, despite the feelings of inferiority to the one before him.
"Oh?" asked Ion, raising a brow. He laughed again. "You think you're smart? You know nothing! You are nothing! And you still don't understand, do you?"
"Sh-shut up!" the boy cried out. He flung himself at the one that looked at him, intending to hurt him and stop him from saying what he said…
And he found himself crashing to the floor. Pain shot through his side, more pain than he had ever felt, more than even when he fell from the bed when he first woke up. His eyes were closed tight as he tried to overcome the pain. And he felt someone grab him by the collar and lift him up into the air. He peeked one eye open to stare into the green eyes of the other one, Ion. These eyes were dancing with glee, and the boy's smile had not left his face.
"Stupid and weak," Ion hissed, and he flung the other boy into the wall. That one squealed out as more pain shot through his body, almost unbearable when combined with the previous injuries. His eyes flew open as the other rushed at him with amazing speed, and through him around. The smile had disappeared from his face, replace with a snarl that shocked the boy with its cruelty. But he had no time to think of it, as every blow and kick that this Ion delivered caused him to cry out in pain.
Finally, the torment stopped. The boy could feel his body shaking from the agony and he felt blood pour near every wound. His eyes were open, but he could barely see past the tears that flowed liked waterfalls down his cheek. Despite this, he could still hear the other boy's voice.
"Useless," he heard, "Why would Van even bother sending someone so worthless to me?" A slam of a door opening, the patter of steps across the ground, and the gasp of the man came to his ears.
"Van! What do you think you were doing, bringing such a useless piece of trash for me to test? How long has it been since his awakening?" The man – Van – flinched back as Ion yelled right in his face.
"It's been a week," he responded, "I take it that you are not…satisfied with him?"
"A week?" Ion exclaimed angrily, "And yet he is still so worthless? Garbage!" He turned and kicked the boy on the ground. Van made a move to stop him, but was stopped by Ion's menacing glare.
"Fon Master," Van said instead, "Are you sure you should be…" He let his question trail off.
"Him? You're worried about this piece of meat?" Ion asked, glancing down at the beaten boy, who was wincing in pain, "Hah! Remember, without me, he wouldn't exist. I can do whatever I want to him." To emphasize his point, he kicked the boy again, causing him to emit a new torrent of screams. Ion shook his head at him.
"I don't want to see him ever again. Get him out of my sight!" With those words, he made his way towards the door. Before leaving, he turned back to the man.
"I hope the next one proves more fruitful than that," he scowled, gesturing toward the body on the floor. He turned back around and made his way out of the room, leaving only Van and the boy in it. The sounds of sobbing coming from boy filled the room, and the man looked sadly down at the body. Carefully, he lifted it as he had a week ago, and carried it out of the room.