I do not own Kingdom Hearts

~...~

"Well? How many have we lost?"

"Only three," Sai said cautiously. Her bitter, expecting tone had him on edge. "All of them together."

Maleficent slammed her fist down on the desk she was working at, causing all her things to rattle and a small bowl of ink to topple over onto the ground. Some of her papers fell to the floor as well, revealing hastily scribed notes and diagrams. The room was, as always, pitch black and void of life, but with the news Sai had to bear, he felt more unwelcome than ever.

"The heartless exterminated them," he added, trying to cool her wrath. "They were made an example of, like you wanted; the others are already talking about it."

"Three? That leaves three worlds without governors to execute our plans. One, I could have handled, but three…" she trailed off angrily. Sai stood there, waiting eagerly to be dismissed. He could tell her mind was already calculating the options there were to get everything back in order again. More heartless on patrol, certainly—Sai had actually already seen to that on his own. The last thing he wanted was to be blamed for the traitors' attempted departures. Plus, this could be a perfect opportunity to prove himself more competent, if he handled everything correctly.

"We'll have to reorganize and recruit," she said suddenly, coming out of her cunning silence. "I want whoever has the smallest, least inhabited worlds to replace the men we've lost. Move three of them on up, and then get back to me on which worlds are left unattended to… I will decide what's to be done about recruiting."

Sai nodded, realizing for the first time how bad their situation must be for him to get to decide who is moving up in the ranks. He had never seen Maleficent so shaken by something. Could their plans really be unraveling? He left the dark room and immediately sent some of the heartless that were patrolling the hallway to deliver messages. He needed to call another mass-meeting and decide who would be put in charge of the mid to large sized worlds that now needed filling. Automatically, of course, he thought of the men who he did not want to promote. The man who, several weeks ago, crossed him with his insult… the man who had started the whole council up with his informalities and gotten him in trouble with Maleficent… and then that man—the one who Sai wished had been swallowed up by the heartless, for making such an ignorant, raunchy assumption…

The thought of it still made him sick with anxiety and jealousy. He had never had any sort of competition before—Keiya was only ever allowed to talk to him—a fellow apprentice. Not even the most trustworthy members of Maleficent's council were allowed to see her, and certainly didn't know anything about her beyond what Maleficent would let slip out about her incredible power. I grew up with her—I have to know her better than any friends… or boyfriends—whatever!—that she could have made these past few weeks… He thought to himself, still battling with the thought that the rude council member had hit him with. Of course, none of this is true—it's just an assumption… one big assumption…

He walked the halls of the dreary old castle amidst the countless heartless that were alerting henchmen of the meeting. He was so lost in his troubles that he completely neglected to consider who would be worthy of taking on a larger role in the operation. His mind kept wandering every time he tried to straighten out his thoughts. And now that they were losing people and having to rearrange their plans, he couldn't help but wonder what would happen to Keiya when she returned. She had always come back home without any words said; Maleficent tolerated her escapes and tried to appease her in the hopes that she would eventually grow out of it. But he could tell things were going to be different. He had to agree with the council—they couldn't keep putting things off at her convenience. Her pro-longed absence was tearing their plans apart. On top of that, he was sure that she would come back still defying the darkness Maleficent had given her. She always did—it had become sort of a trend. He was always present when Keiya was punished. It was the same every time; she would be suffocated by the darkness until she couldn't hang on anymore, and then it would work its way back into her body. It was a shame to watch—she made such a mess of herself by resisting. All the tears and pain never seemed worth it; she always looked like a ghost afterward, and wouldn't speak to him when he came to visit her. She wouldn't be allowed out of her isolation for days, depending on how long Maleficent thought it would take to break her. It never worked, though, since three to four months later, she would have disappeared again, and the cycle would continue.

He didn't see the point—all that crying and suffering, and for what? So she could be weak and vulnerable? He couldn't even imagine what his life would be like without the darkness. He hadn't had to eat, sleep, or waste time on any other normal necessities these past few years. The darkness was a convenience to him, and made him all the more intimidating to the council, who had not been granted such power. (In reality, the council thought of it more as disgusting and corrupt than fearsome.) Using the darkness in combat was the greatest thrill, and even though he had always preferred hand-to-hand combat, he was beginning to warm up to the idea of using more dark magic. Maleficent had always told him and Keiya to avoid dirtying their hands in combat, since it would not only decrease their chances of being successful, but also decrease their reputation. Keiya, Maleficent told him, had never been in a hand-to-hand fight that she hadn't won—and it wasn't because she was good. On the contrary, she was very mediocre at best. She was nimble enough to dodge attacks, but not strong enough to deal them, which was where Sai excelled. Whether or not she came out on top in a fight, it was her dark magic that always finished off her opponent. She could conjure it up in a heartbeat, and whoever was pinning her down would be annihilated within seconds. It kept her missions and her existence secret, just the way Maleficent wanted it.

But sparring class was still Sai's time to shine, since they weren't allowed to resort to magic. It was the only thing he was better at than her, and the only thing he could be repeatedly praised for. Whenever they had to practice fighting each other, Sai was always able to get her pinned—even while holding back, (although it did sometimes take a while since she could slide to avoid his attacks easily.) Of course, Maleficent wanted her to work at it and be able to fight in a broad variety of circumstances—to make herself more useful—but she was never too seriously chastised for losing all the time; in real life circumstances, she would be able to use her magic and probably wouldn't need to resort to direct combat in the first place. Sai would be sent on those dirtier missions.

He reached the large, dimly lit meeting room where the council, groaning with utter annoyance, slowly started to gather. He was finally able to exercise his rank over them—he would get to promote three of them, based upon who he felt deserved it. Finally, they would see how he ought to be treated. So what if he was only eighteen? They needed to treat him with respect, as an authority they had to answer to. Sai smirked as they filed in, one after the other, all of them looking as though they had been bothered by this meeting. Maybe next time, they'll think twice about what they say to me. After this meeting, they should know just how low they stand.

~...~

Riku stared out the window, holding the curtain aside. Rain pattered on the glass loudly and blurred the view outside so that nothing was recognizable anymore. After another flash of lightening, he sighed and dropped the curtain, then wandered back over to where he guessed the couch was. It was pitch-black in the house—they had lost power due to the thunder storm. It was his and Keiya's turn to house-sit for the day, and everyone else would have been back several hours ago, but the whole town was stuck taking shelter from the rain. It was too cold, wet, and windy to attempt the climb back up the hill to headquarters. He stumbled a little bit, walking into the low coffee table, but recovered quickly and used it to get his bearings. He snatched up a blanket from the neighboring recliner, then continued feeling around for the edge of the couch. Keiya was sitting on the far end of the sofa, huddled in a ball and wrapped in an oversized jacket. They had lost their heat, too.

"You okay?" she asked, hearing him struggle to make it back to the couch. He finally managed to plop down before he could walk into anything else, and then scooted closer to her. It was impossible to see anything—their only source of light came from the quick and occasional flashes of lightening outside. They had lost power an hour ago, but the storm had started up so quickly that they had had no time to find candles or flashlights.

"Yeah… It doesn't look like it's going to let up any time soon. We haven't had rain like this in a while," he commented. He reached for her arm and at the next flash of lightening, gently pulled her toward him, then unfolded the blanket and wrapped it around their bodies as if they were one. She stayed huddled up next to him with her body turned toward his, her legs folded under in a kneeling position. But she made no move to decrease the small, inches-wide gap between them, where the blanket dipped into a valley against the couch. She was a little shy to, it being so dark and cold. She didn't want to appear clingy or helpless—and besides, her body felt particularly freezing from the lack of heat. She didn't want to make him cold as well.

Riku couldn't see her face, but he could sense her discomfort. He shifted closer to her beneath the large blanket they shared and gently placed his hands on her waist, immediately feeling her body tense up. She was still shivering a bit, her arms crossed to keep warm. Riku snaked his arms around her back and drew her in so that she was resting against him, her head on his chest. She swallowed, self-conscious at how much warmer he was than her. One of his hands stayed firmly across her lower back while the other began running through her hair, at the same time keeping her from moving from her position. He then let them rest comfortably against the cushion backboard of the sofa, keeping her close to him. Keiya was surrounded on all sides, between him and the pillows she was now leaning against. Being so close to him was always dizzying and thrilling for her; after all, she had never felt this sort of attachment and attraction for anyone else but Riku. And even though she didn't want to admit it, the dark atmosphere in of itself provided a sort of unique thrill. After a few moments, she loosened up a little bit and relaxed in his arms. His body always seemed to radiate warmth and security—she always tended to be much colder, which she would notice whenever he took her hand. But he never commented on it or complained about it. She just felt like she never had anything to give.

"It's really pouring out there, huh?" he stated softly, his lips in her hair. The rain fell so steadily and constantly that the noise it made against the windows and roof had become a background blur to her. She had forgotten it was even there. She murmured her acknowledgment against his chest and finally, after a grueling internal debate, let her uncrossed arms rest lightly on his shoulders. Of course, she made sure her hands were relatively warm first. Riku smiled, happy that she was slowly but surely becoming less reluctant around him. He twirled his fingers around her hair and slid his arm up her back a little, holding her closer. She felt so safe in his embrace; she didn't ever want to move. It didn't matter that they were stuck without electricity or heat—just being here with Riku turned the normally undesirable circumstances into another adventure; a new atmosphere. She shifted her hands up a little bit and slipped them over his shoulders to his neck.

Riku took in the scent of her hair, feeling utterly intoxicated by the sensation of her body against his. She was so close to him—he hadn't held her like this in a while. Not ever, really. He let his hand in her hair trail the back of her neck just to feel the softness of her skin; the rest of her body was covered by the sweater, hiding her delicate physique. His face flushed with a secret excitement as she brought herself right up against him, letting her arms gently lock around his neck. Her touch sent shivers down his spine.

Another flash of lightening struck, illuminating them for a few seconds. The dark made everything seem surreal and cozy, so for Riku, the light was a momentary return to the real world. He shielded his eyes and, after the lightening subsided, sank back into the alternate reality they had built. Keiya remained buried in his chest, her face hidden by both her hair and the blanket which she had sunk under a little bit. She felt drowsy, basking in the warmth of his body, and her eyes had involuntarily closed after a while.

"I always hated the rain…" she murmured softly. "It's so depressing…"

"Are you saying that I'm depressing?" he teased, trying to lighten the mood.

"Of course not." She smiled against his chest. "You're…" …wonderful…

"Weather like this always used to remind me of that day on the islands… when I left home," he admitted. "I guess it still does, sometimes…"

"You don't think about it anymore?" she asked quietly.

"I do. But now I think of Traverse Town first," he stated nonchalantly. "It was raining when I found you."

She felt a blush rush to her face, but it would have been too dark for Riku to see even if she was facing him. Lightening cracked outside once again, seemingly right over the house. It was followed by the loudest, longest rattle of thunder yet.

"It's right above us…" she commented after the noise subsided.

"It's passing, though. We'll probably have power back soon."

Keiya had completely forgotten they were without power. Once the lights went on, the whole situation might seem awkward. Her heart ached a little at this thought—she didn't want everyone to come back, or the lights to come on. She wanted things to remain the way they were now—they might never have an excuse to sit like this again.

"I remember that day… when you showed up at Hollow Bastion," she said suddenly, catching Riku's attention. "Since you moved into the castle, I had to stay in my room."

"Sorry," he laughed. "But why wouldn't I have gotten to meet you back then?"

The idea was still strange to him—that he had lived in the same place as her for months, yet had never come into contact with her. He always wondered what it would have been like to meet her then, what he would have thought about her. He was a completely different person now—he used to be so corrupt. Would they have been as close as they were now? Or would he have been too blinded by his hunger for power and competition to save Kairi to give her even a second glance? It was an abstract concept to grasp—that she had been there, all that time, when his life had taken a turn for the worst. In all the chaos that was consuming his life, would he still have fallen in love with her?

"She didn't trust you."

Riku nodded to himself. "If I had met you, how do you think it would have been?"

She let out an amused laugh, surprised at how fascinating Riku seemed to find the topic. "I don't know," She stated honestly. "Not like this. We would have been working together. You probably wouldn't have listened to me, so I probably would have gotten annoyed at you."

"Because that never happens now. But do you think we could have at least been friends?"

"We would have been co-workers, Riku," She said vaguely.

Riku sighed, unable to remember how he might have reacted to meeting her. He was so changed—he hated thinking of the way he used to be. Always competing (which was still one of his qualities—just in a less vicious manner,) always seeking more power, more freedom… He was ashamed of how easily he had fallen into both Maleficent's and Ansem's clutches—all because of jealousy. But he wanted to think that he would have been able to see past his one-track goal for a minute—that at least he would have taken an interest in her. He certainly did now.

"Well are you friends with that guy you mentioned? That other apprentice?" he asked innocently.

He felt Keiya go completely rigid at his comment. He looked down at her, though all he could see was the top of her head. She seemed a little disturbed, like he had said something wrong.

"No… we were co-workers," she stated simply after a minute. Riku could sense something was off. He wanted to ask her more about it, but he didn't want to make her uncomfortable or to make her mad at him again. Keiya shifted in his arms, then gently pulled out of his embrace, his hands falling back to her waist. He couldn't see her face in the darkness, but he knew she was definitely avoiding him, hiding another detail.

Finally, she slipped out of his weak and lingering hold and stood up. She had one arm across her torso recessively and her eyes were downcast although there was nothing to look at. "I-I'm going to go… look for some candles…" she murmured. Riku stood too, now able to make out her faint outline in the moonlight. The clouds outside were beginning to clear up.

"No—I'll get some. Wait here," he said softly. Before she could protest, he began walking around the couch, feeling his way to the kitchen. He remembered seeing a lot of random emergency supplies in a cabinet once—he was sure there would be a few candles. He continued his slow, blind trip into the kitchen through the entryway, then began circling the perimeter, one hand tracing the wall and the other out in case he bumped into anything. When he finally reached a complex of cabinets, he started opening and reaching into them, one by one, trying to guess their contents.

Keiya stayed standing at the couch, her mind frozen with the quick rush of tension. She could hear Riku blindly rummaging through the drawers and cabinets, trying to find the candles she had so hastily come up with a need for. She felt so down all of a sudden, what with the topic that had been brought up. But she harbored no resentment or anger toward Riku—instead, she felt a little guilty at having overreacted. Everything had been going so perfectly—they really didn't need the stupid candles. She had just felt so overwhelmed at that moment. He had asked his question so innocently, but she couldn't help but be thrown into a state of restless depression as memories flooded into her. She hated delving into her mind like this. But that word, "friends," just made her sick with disgust.

Suddenly, she heard a loud crash come from the kitchen, followed by a sharp gasp a few moments later. She instinctively wandered over toward the entryway, following the noise.

"Riku? Is everything alright?" she asked cautiously. She heard continued rummaging followed by a slam.

"Yeah—I just dropped something… I think I found some candles," he called. "Matches, too."

He stood at the counter, struggling to open the pack of matches that had been taped to the side of a candle. After a few tries, he managed to peel off the plastic cover and pull out a few sticks. Then, feeling the sides of the box to find the striker, he picked up a match and briskly scraped it along the rough edge. Surprisingly, he got it lit and, feeling for a candle and then a wick, was able to light it without burning himself. Riku took the rest of the candles in one hand, and then made his way back to the living room where Keiya was standing. He smiled at her and placed the lit candles on the coffee table in front of the couch, then took a seat and began pulling out another match to light. She trailed behind him, the small glimmer of light guiding the way. She sat next to him—a good few inches away—and watched as the orangey light softly illuminated his facial features. When he got a second one lit, though, adding more light to the room, she noticed the trickle of blood on his forehead.

"Riku—what happened?" she asked, gesturing toward the red stream starting to reach the space between his eyes. Riku brought a hand up to his forehead, seeing the blood on his hand as he pulled away.

"I hit my head on the cabinet before… when I was picking up a pot that fell. I guess I got cut," he said casually. Keiya sighed, a softer smile returning to her face.

"Stay right here—I'll get a towel."

She picked up one of the lit candles and walked back to the kitchen. Riku scratched his head and watched her leave, feeling stupid for having to admit to his stumble. He finished lighting the candles and arranging them on the table and around the room. There were about ten altogether. He suddenly realized that the thunder and lightening had ceased, and that it was now only drizzling. The atmosphere was so much brighter now, and yet, everything had seemed much more comfortable in the dark. He wasn't sure whether or not Keiya was upset with him—she seemed fine now, but he couldn't erase from his memory the troubled strain in her voice he had heard just moments before.

She came back quickly with two white cloths and a bandage and set them down on the table. Riku was about to reach for the towel, but she took it before him. "I'll do it—you can't see. You'll just end up smudging it," she reasoned, her hand half-way raised up to his face. She suddenly felt embarrassed, with so much more light in the room. She hesitantly, and very shyly, brought a hand up to his face and brushed his bangs out of the way, then touched the cool, wet cloth to the source of the blood. Riku cringed, recognizing the sting of alcohol. Keiya just laughed nervously and continued to wipe away the blood that had started to dry up while she was gone.

"Sorry. If I brought the bottle out here, you wouldn't have let me clean it."

"No, I wouldn't have," he joked truthfully. It was a strange, tempting position he was seated in. One of her hands was holding his hair out of the way while the other was now cleaning off the remnants of the cut with a second, water-wet towel. And she was inches from him, already facing him for a change. He made eye contact with her a few times, but not for more than a few seconds. He barely even noticed when she placed the bandage on his head, finally letting his hair fall back into place.

"Finished," she announced. He brought a hand up to the bandage while Keiya pulled her sleeves down, which she had rolled up to clean the wound, then took the two towels and got up to bring them to the kitchen. Riku mentally slapped himself, watching her leave. If he had not said anything, he could still be holding her under the blanket, in the dark, listening to the rain that was now almost nonexistent. He hadn't even gotten a second chance to kiss her since that day up on the hill—this could have been the perfect opportunity, had he not screwed it up. I am such an idiot…

She came back into the room, her skin dimly illuminated by the weak candlelight. She took her seat next to him, her face showing no traces of discomfort or anger. Riku wanted so badly to take her into his arms again, just to pick up where he had messed up. But now, with the light in the room and the rain almost gone, along with the stupid question he had asked, he wasn't sure if she would be so welcoming to his embrace. After a prolonged silence, he spoke up.

"Keiya… Are you mad at me?"

"Huh? No, why would you think—" she started, turning in surprise.

"I didn't mean to offend you or anything."

"You didn't, Riku. I just overreacted," she said, breaking into a gentle laugh. "I'm sorry!"

He let a small smile show on his face, though his curiosity remained. "We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, but…"

"There's really nothing to tell," she lied lightly. Riku wasn't convinced, but he just let the subject drop. He would ask her again, eventually. After all, this was a guy that she had apparently lived with for some time. He couldn't help but want to know if there was anything between them. She certainly acted like there was. But there were many things he would rather not bring up about himself, so he couldn't blame her. He vowed to get her to talk to him in time. He scooted closer to her and slipped his arms back around her waist. She gave him a smile and bravely let her eyes lock with his again. He brought a hand up and let his fingers brush the side of her face, holding her gaze steadily. Keiya felt her breath escape her, and Riku ever so subtly let his face fall closer to hers. His arm moved up to her back, turning her body toward his, and his hand continued caressing the side of her face, brushing her hair around her ear and then trailing his fingers down her jaw line. Both sets of eyes had fluttered close. His body ached for her; especially his lips, which were hovering just an inch from hers. They were breathing the same air. When he couldn't wait any longer, he finally let himself lean in to close the tiny distance between them.

But the sound of a lock turning and a door swinging open ruined the moment. They stayed still, and Riku silently groaned in defeat, just a paper's width of distance between them. He sat up and withdrew his hand from her face as Sora and the others came tumbling into the kitchen, soaking wet and yawning. Sora, Cid, and Yuffie flung their bags into the corner and kicked their shoes off lazily, while the more sophisticated of the bunch just plopped down at the table. Leon walked into the living room, seeing the two of them on the couch, surrounded by candles, and flicked the light switch on.

"The power came back about an hour ago in town. Didn't you guys think to try the lights?" he asked. Riku and Keiya both shook their heads, feeling frustrated and defeated. The others wandered into the living room to sit down, too, blowing out some of the candles scattered around the room.

"It's just more romantic this way, right Riku? With the candles?" Sora teased, throwing himself onto the couch next to him. Riku shoved him over, jabbing him in the stomach with his elbow.

"You're supposed to have the switches off when you lose power," he argued. "We forgot to check them."

"Whatever," he said, kicking his feet up onto the table. Riku looked at Keiya, who was just sitting quietly as everyone got resettled. She gave him an awkward, amused smile when no one was watching. Riku sighed and returned the smile, then blew out the last of the candles on the coffee table. As everyone chattered warmly around them, complaining over the fact that Riku and Keiya hadn't turned on the heat and arguing over what movie to watch, he edged closer to her and let his arm settle around her once again, still discreetly. Yuffie popped a movie into the 'television' in front of them, with Cid complaining behind her that his computer was for 'serious work only'. Keiya stayed seated instead of wandering off like she usually did when they started group activities like this. The lights were dimmed now anyway, so no one would pay them any attention. As the movie started and everyone got seated, she let her head rest against his shoulder, and upon feeling her do so, Riku edged his hand up her back and drew her closer. Everyone was sitting in front of them, on the floor so they could be just inches from the screen. No one paid them any mind.

~...~

"As you probably already know, three of your comrades have left us," Sai said vaguely, "And now three of you will need to move up to take their places."

Everyone looked at him curiously, a little confused as to why he was giving them this news rather than his master. They were all very at ease with their commander—they felt no obligation to respect him, no matter how many times Maleficent stressed that he was in charge. Sai continued, "I have been ordered to promote three of you, with smaller worlds than those we have lost."

The council immediately began looking around at each other, awkward glances shooting across the room. Sai remained silent; he watched the shrugs and muffled whispers carefully to determine the men most worthy of the large, city-worlds that were now without governors. His eyes first fell upon a tall, older man with an indifferent look on his face. He did not speak to the others and seemed to rise above them in both height and dignity. His world, Sai remembered, was only a tad smaller than those of the traitors. Probably not as small as Maleficent had wanted, since she would be putting new recruits in charge of the exchanged, unoccupied worlds. But he figured he should reward someone for doing something right, so the others would follow his example. He called him up.

The others watched, still in utter confusion and disbelief, as their elder comrade was assigned the largest of the three unoccupied worlds to govern. Then they turned to Sai, who looked the group over again.

He figured now, if he didn't want Maleficent to chew him out, he had better pick people with small worlds to move up as she had ordered. They couldn't have new members placed in such densely inhabited territories. His gaze swept quickly through the crowd, then settled on a short, young man who seemed to be more timid than the others. Sai recognized him as the newest addition to their crew, (even though he had joined many months ago.) He had a very small, backwater world full of mostly wildlife and unsophisticated settlements, and he had never once crossed Sai, not directly. His friends were the ones who were gossiping about him, so now, they might think twice before opening their mouths. He called this man up, and gave him the smaller of the two remaining worlds. The rest of the council had fallen silent, eagerly awaiting the announcement of the last promoted member.

"You, there," he called, pointing to an average man in the back. He had his hood up, so Sai couldn't see his face, but he knew him to be quiet during most meetings. And he knew he was currently assigned one of the nothing worlds—his home world.

"No thanks," he said simply, staying put. Sai looked at him awkwardly, trying to comprehend what was happening.

"What?"

"I said, 'no thanks'. I'm here for my home world. I don't want anyone else's," he reiterated, leaving Sai speechless. After a moment of a silence, he spoke up again, "If you need to promote someone, they are plenty more men here who have been doing a far more admirable job than I have." Then he gestured toward a man standing a few feet away from him, a little apart from the crowd. "He's been dedicated. Shouldn't you be promoting people like him?"

Sai knew the man—the man who had planted such dreadful, unheard of suspicions in his head. The one who he had almost killed in anger just a couple of weeks earlier, and who's teasing assumption now had him constantly at war with the dreaded possibility. That she might have a lover.

He was speechless still, trying to come up with an excuse as to why he couldn't promote this man—this smug bastard. But he wasn't a new member, certainly had a small, forgettable territory to cover, and had been particularly adept in his invasion on the bailey in Radiant Garden. Maleficent approved of him and regarded him highly, along with some others. The only problem was that Sai hated him.

He shouldn't have to promote people who had disrespected him in the past—Maleficent certainly wouldn't, if she were in his position. She was very into respect. But she was also into seniority, and since this man hadn't wronged her, she wouldn't have any objections to his promotion, as he was a long-time comrade. Sai looked around the room at the expectant faces, each one no more worthy than the next. He debated; if he decided to promote someone else instead, what would his excuse be? That he just down right hated this guy right here? He was supposed to be making fair, intelligent, strategic decisions—the same decisions Maleficent would have made herself, could she be bothered with this job. In her mind, this was a trivial aspect of the problem and should be an easy task for Sai. All she wanted was three men who fit her minimal criteria. But Sai had already made it into a much more complex ordeal for himself. And now he felt trapped where he should feel free to choose.

Finally, he pointed toward a different man in the back of the room, who was younger and more timid than the man who had been 'nominated'. He was newer—not fresh, but not as experienced, and luckily for Sai, had a very negligible excuse of a world assigned to his name. His stubborn hatred and tendency to hold grudges just wouldn't let him give in and willingly hand over a promotion to the rude, graceless man who had, quite disrespectfully, interrupted one of his meetings. Why should he get a higher status when he couldn't keep his opinions to himself while his commander was speaking?

These three men were given pamphlets with information about their new worlds, and then dismissed along with everyone else. No one said anything to Sai when he ignored the nomination. They all knew he was playing favorites, in an opposite sense. They could see right through his strategy—picking out people who hadn't ever spoken out during meetings, who did their job well (even if they had never gone above and beyond like the nominee,) and who were bound to make the other members angry and envious. But they didn't really take him too seriously, and in a sort of silent agreement, they didn't want to give him the satisfaction of their annoyance and frustration. They had already made a show of disagreeing with him and suggesting that he do his job right—they knew it was only a matter of time before he started losing his privileges. They were much more patient than he was.

Sai watched as they filed back out into the hallway. He shot the man who had turned down his promotion a glare behind his back. When the door shut, he leaned against the wall and took a deep breath. They had tried to make a fool of him again. The more of this council he saw, the more he hated them. He never thought that, with such a high, prestigious rank as an apprentice, and now as a commander, he would still be undergoing this day-by-day torment.

It was the same when he was little, when he lived with his parents in that disgusting, God-forsaken fishing village. He always knew he had no future there, and it wasn't just because he hated the idea of the industry. Everyone in the village talked about him. He was an only child, the son of very, very poor parents. Their fishing hole in the back of the house had been becoming smaller and smaller each year as more dirt was deposited from the rainstorms. They never got a very good haul—maybe a few fish a week, if they were lucky. And since they couldn't afford to buy anything more than their bread, cabbage, and occasionally some overripe fruit, all of the fish they caught they had to use as food. So the only money they made came from the pitifully small rice field that his mother watched over. And Sai had always had to help her, no matter how terrible the weather was or how sick or hungry he felt. They grew rice year round, tending to the field every single day, rain or shine. It was always muggy and humid there—there was no such thing as a mild or breezy day. They never got a very large harvest, and whatever they did get they had to sell, to pay their debts. Rice was too profitable a food for them to waste on themselves.

That field was worth more than his life, he always thought to himself. His parents were absorbed in taking the best care of it. Sai hated how he had to stay in his yard for most of the day. He would much rather have gotten to explore the village, despite his low status in town.

Once a week, Sai could leave the confines of their muddy backyard to do the family's grocery shopping. And naturally, he made some pit stops along the way. It was his only chance to see people other than his parents, to hang out with other children. But being in town so seldom, accompanied with his already shameful status, made him the lowly outcast of his neighborhood. He would leave early in the morning with just enough money to buy two heads of cabbage, four loaves of bread, and, if they were having a particularly profitable season, a small bag of plums or peaches. Along with whatever fish they managed to catch, this would be their food for the week. He would walk the dirt streets past all the low, thick walled houses until he reached the flea market, where he always found himself one of the only children shopping there. Most of the other children were hanging out off to the side or trying to ruin the vendors' perfect pyramids of fruit. He was the only one lugging around a brown paper bag and savoring the few pennies left over.

He knew, even back then, that the reason he got into so much trouble with the other kids was because he got out of his house for a only few hours a week. So interacting with others was never one of his strong points. And even his parents, who often lamented about it, knew that he should be getting out more often. But there was nothing to be done—they needed him in the field, or they would be short on profit and evicted from their house. The taunts of the other children were still crystal clear in his mind. They would say things to him that he couldn't change: things about his father's enormous debt, his family's shabby looking home that seemed to sway in the wind, his mother's abortion of the baby she would have had—news that was never supposed to get out. So what else could he do? He tried to beat them up.

All the kicking, screaming, and punching certainly relieved stress, but more than anything else, made his family's name even more infamous in town. He didn't hesitate to pounce on kids twice his age or thrice his size—he would cause a scene, fighting and getting out his energy, and then would come home a few hours later carrying the kicked over brown bag, with dirty heads of cabbage, some bruised fruits, and crushed loaves of bread.

The comments of the adults hurt twice as much as the kids', and were twice as hard to bear since he couldn't deal with them the same way he dealt with other boys his age in the village. Their insults were heart-wrenching to him.

"So impulsive, just like his father. And always so dirty and unkempt…"

"He's too sensitive—my young son said just a few words to him the other day, I'm sure in jest, and he came home crying with a bloody nose and bruises all over his arms! That boy needs to learn to control his temper—don't his parents teach him anything?"

"If he can't get along with our kids, then his mother should just keep him home! Do her shopping herself! It's those kids like him that start trouble!"

"He needs to learn some respect."

"Someone should teach him how to behave in public."

"Poor people like him should be working—not out in the streets play fighting."

The parents, with their fishing boats, fancy rods, and shiny metal-alloy earrings, gave his family hell. Every time someone needed to go into town for something, be it Sai or one of his parents, they came home with a new story, a new complaint. And with the richer merchants from the next town over at his father's back for money, they had no time to try and fix things for themselves in town or to better their son's social skills. The only thing that mattered—the only thing they could afford the time to care for—was the rice field, because without that, they were at the mercy of the loan sharks. And it was this same gang of loan sharks that eventually, by the time Sai was eleven, had drained his family of their savings, and when even that wasn't enough to settle the debts, had taken his parents' lives. And just like that, coming home from another fight in town and with another beat up bag of food, he found himself an orphan.

None of that mattered now, though—not with his new life. These smug men who thought they were superior to him, they would learn eventually. Nothing they could do would get him uprooted from his position; Maleficent had invested too much time and effort into him to demote him now. No, his spot was secure. They were the ones who would have to watch themselves. They were replaceable, as they would learn with the arrival of the new recruits. But Sai had a permanent place in the operation, as did Keiya. They were his inferiors, and these past couple of months, for the first time in his life, he was able to order others around.

~...~

Author's Note: June fourth, twenty-ten. I cleaned this chapter up a bit and fixed the quotation errors. Like I said in chapter two, (I believe,) it will take some time.

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