Shana: Hello!

Blank: Hiya!

Shana: Thanks for reviewing, murdered by god. I'm posting! And Thaliel? Thanks for the encouragement!

Blank: (gets Pixie Stixs taken away) ­­

Zidane: (receives Pixie Stixs)

Kuja: (sees Zidane happily approach him with a knife)

Shana: (sees Zidane and his knife) Bad Zidane!!

Zidane: (knife is taken by Shana) ­­

Blank: (grabs back Pixie Stixs while Zidane is distracted)

Kuja: (randomly imagines Zidane in a dress)

Shana: (shakes head) You weirdoes……To the fic!

I sat up, sweating. Master Garland burst into the room. I didn't realize I was yelling until he told me to stop. I closed my mouth.

"My Angel of Death, why have you woken me up?" he demanded.

I looked at the floor, embarrassed.

"Sorry, sir." I denied him an explanation.

"Just make sure it doesn't happen again." Master Garland stomped out.

I pushed the covers off my sweaty body and climbed out of bed. I headed for my small bathroom. Turning on the light, I looked at my reflection. A pale, shaking, young boy stared back at me. I scowled. I was always so different.

I absentmindedly ran my hand through my silken silver hair. I grimaced when one of my feathers caught and accidentally was pulled out. I rubbed the sore spot. Another reminder that I wasn't normal. No other boy had feathers as part of his hair. I took another glance at myself in the mirror. Standing in the over-sized tunic I wore at night, with my hand uncertainly in front of my mouth, I didn't like what I saw. No other boy looked so much like a girl.

It wasn't fair. Why couldn't I just live in a regular family? With people that loved me? Living with Master Garland wasn't actually that bad. At times, he was almost as loving as a father. Although, since he had created me, it wasn't surprising he took pride in his work. No matter how hard I tried to overlook how different I was, the boys at the village would never let me forget. To them, I was an unnatural freak. I was inferior. But I took it. I took all the insults, all the beatings. I never said a word. There was no one who really cared, so why tell? It wouldn't change anything, anyway.

I leaned against the sink. Who was I kidding? I had no reason to live. I wasn't even sure if I was real. Was I really a person? I knew I wasn't human. A wry smile curved my lips. I knew that all to well. I was a Genome. A being of Master Garland's special race he took so much care in creating. A definite thing that proved I wasn't human was my tail. Fuzzy, and silver like my hair, it gave the village girls a reason to treat me like a cute tame pet. I dealt with that too. At least it didn't hurt; it was just embarrassing. My cheeks went red at the thought of them stroking my head and tail. Their petting usually ended up tickling me into giggles. Which of course made the girls giggle themselves at my 'cuteness'.

I splashed some water on my face to cool down my cheeks. I glared at the mirror. Why did I provide such a source of amusement for everyone? There wasn't one person who actually liked me. I had no Mother to hold me in a tight loving embrace as I had seen many boys' mothers do. Then they would push out their mother's grasp, complaining. They didn't know how lucky they were. I had never been hugged. I had never been kissed, either. I had no one.

I peered into the reflection of my eyes. My eyes were always an interesting topic to the townsfolk. An intense sapphire blue, there was just something unique about them. At least that was what everybody said. Right now, my eyes held a haunted look. That brought me back to my nightmare.

Strangely enough, I couldn't remember what the dream had been about. I only could summon up traces of it, and even those were fading fast. Something about a blonde he knew. Then darkness. And after that—

I yawned. It was just too hard for me to keep in mind what had happened in my dream. Although I sensed it was important, I couldn't bring myself to try. I was suddenly too tired. I wearily stumbled back into my room. Smiling, I got into my bed and snuggled deep into my nest of blankets. Curled into a fetal position with my tail wrapped comfortably warm around me, I slowly drifted of into sleep.

Shana: Kuja's POV, as a six-year old. Cute.

Zidane: I was the blonde wasn't I?

Shana: Yes, my lovable monkey-tailed thief.

Blank: You like him better then me!

Shana: Sorry, my red, spiky-haired, brother-like friend of mine.

Blank: So I'm like a brother to you…?

Shana: Yeah, you can replace my real brother any day.

Zidane: (ponders) I wonder why Kuja isn't yelling about written as a six-year-old.

Kuja: Because I am not dead anymo—WHAT DO YOU MEAN A SIX-YEAR-OLD!!??

Shana: (rolls eyes) That was intelligent, smart one. I could throw you out of here. ­­

Zidane: (shrugs) You won't 'cause you like me too much. I'm not worried. (to the reader) REVIEW!!