Chapter One
Sheltered by Earth
In Which
the Story Really Begins
And
Xehanort is Badly Burned
--
"Run, you blasted idiot boy! Why in the world do I keep you around?"
The laboratory was on fire, and the researcher's young assistant, a lad of only about 14 or 15, was scared out of his wits.
"Where?" he screamed, oblivious as to where he was supposed to go.
"Out of the fire, you dolt!" his master shouted. "Just run in any direction!"
"But what about the books?" the boy said, his gaze darting between the numerous bookshelves full of research that were now in flames.
"Damn the books, boy! Run!" was the reply.
The boy nodded fearfully and began in a direction, but he noticed something and returned.
"But Mister Xehanort, aren't you coming with-" he began, but was slapped across the face.
"Don't argue with me, boy!" his master said. "Don't worry about me, just RUN!"
Hardly daring to argue, the boy began to sprint through the flames, and didn't look back. The fire and heat got into his face, and he couldn't see where he was going, and it was too hot to feel around with his hands, or he would get burned worse than he estimated he already was. All of a sudden, there was a terrifying crash, and a bookcase had fallen on top of him, causing pain beyond his imagination. Panicked, he tried to escape, but felt his limbs growing weak. In vain, he tried calling out to his master, but found he could not even breath in the smoke. Despite the unbearable pain and heat, he felt a strange coldness in his chest, an almost soothing sensation, and then nothingness.
He awoke under warm blankets, covered in bandages, with a slightly sweet scent in the clean air he now breathed. There was a faint golden glow to his surroundings, and he could hear a fire crackling nearby, with what sounded like rustling papers and a deep voice humming some unrecognizeable tune. He moaned softly, trying to move, but finding he could not lift his limbs. The humming and rustling stopped as footsteps came in his direction, and his gaze travelled to see a fairly middle-aged man with blonde hair and a well-trimmed mustache and beard approaching him; his eyes were an eerie shade of orange, and he couldn't take his own eye (for the other one was covered in bandages) off them.
"Ah, awake, I see?" he said; he had warm smile on his face and a small container of pale green liquid in his hand. "How are you feeling?"
"...decidedly ill..." the boy replied, attempting to keep a slight sense of humor with the situation.
"Well, I should say!" the man replied, chuckling a little. "You're quite severely burned, do you know what happened?"
The boy searched his memory for a brief while. All he could envision were flames, and naught else.
"A fire..." he replied. "There was a fire...that's all I remember."
"Ahh, well, I could have told you that much," the man said. "Here, drink up, this'll make you feel much better."
He poured the green liquid into the boy's mouth; it tasted vaguely sweet and cool to his lips, and he felt his body practically tingle with renewal as it slid down his throat.
"Thank you...what was that?" he asked.
"A simple potion, nothing more," the man replied. "Feel any better?"
"A little."
"That's good to hear," he said, smiling once again. He was a friendly-looking man, with an even kinder voice, and the boy felt somewhat comfortable around him. "Now, might you tell me how you came to be here? I've never seen you anywhere, my boy, and it's quite distressing to see you in this condition."
"I...don't remember," the boy replied.
"Don't remember?" the man said. He nodded in reply.
"Can't...remember anything... Just fire..."
"Perplexing...do you have a name?" the man asked. The boy searched his memory for anything resembling a name, when the fingers of his mind found one; whether it was his own or not, he couldn't remember, but it was a name nonetheless.
"Xehanort..." he replied.
"Xehanort? Is that your name?" the man asked. He nodded slightly in reply.
"Yes, I...think so..."
"Quite an exotic name," the man said, chuckling a little more. "Well, Xehanort, I'll get another potion for you, then I'll have my daughter change your bandages."
Shuffling around the room, a chest was opened, and he returned with another container of the liquid. He opened it and prepared to pour it into Xehanort's mouth, when-
"Your name..." the newly-named Xehanort said softly. "Your name...what is it?"
"My name?" said the man, and chuckled once more. "Well, I have many names! To my subjects, I am Master; to my people, I am King; to my daughter, I am Father; to my colleagues, I am Wise; my proper name is Ansem Branford the Second, but to you, well...you may simply call me Ansem."
"Ansem...thank you...for..." Xehanort began, and slipped out of consciousness once more.
He woke once again, quite a time later; the fire had been extinguished long before, and he could tell it was now morning, from the light streaming into the room. He nearly sat up to rub his head, but felt a faint touch on his arm, wrapping a bandage over the burns. He remembered what Ansem had said before he lost conciousness...was this his daughter?
"Excuse me..." he said softly, turning his head to see a young girl tending to him, with whispy blonde hair pulled back from her face, except for some bangs, and bright green eyes. Upon hearing his voice, she pulled back abruptly.
"Oh, I'm sorry! Did I wake you?" she asked.
"No, not at all..." Xehanort replied. "I woke on my own. Are you Ansem's daughter?"
She nodded. "Yes, that's my father. My name's Terra; I already know about you. Xehanort, right?"
"Yes, that's right," Xehanort replied, already familiar with his new name. "Could I sit up, please?"
"Sure, let me help you..." Terra said, rising, gently sliding her hand behind his back and propping him up in the bed against the pillow. "I wouldn't recommend moving your arms just yet, or you're in for a world of hurt. Careful, your back's got some of the worser burns on it, so try not to press against it too hard..." she warned.
He was able to see more, now; the room seemed to be a sort of study, with bookshelves lining a wall, a wooden desk with papers strewn about on it, a small chest beside it, and (as he suspected) a fireplace, with ashy remnants of a fire inside.
"How are you feeling?" she asked, sitting back down on the small stool beside his bed.
"...much better, actually," Xehanort replied. "Those potion-things seem to work pretty well."
"Well, a potion can help you feel better and take away the pain, but they can't aid very much when it comes to the actual healing process," Terra said, beginning to wrap up Xehanort's arm again. He got a look at it as she wound the bandage around; it was a sickly shade of pink, peeling everywhere. "It'll be a while before you're healed, but I'm sure your skin will be right as it was; you're lucky these burns weren't as bad as they could have been. If you don't mind me asking, what caused them?"
"The burns?" asked Xehanort, and she nodded, beginning on his hands. "To be honest...I don't remember... How did I even get here? When? Where am I, anyways?"
"Quite a lot of questions! That's pretty strange," Terra said, carefully winding the bandage over his palms, "I thought you would know at least a little. My father found you about a week ago in the streets here, and you didn't wake for three days; when you fell asleep again, you didn't wake for four. It's the fifth morning, now; we're in an extra study of his that happened to have a bed."
"Wow...I must really be tired," Xehanort said, laughing a little, and Terra joined him; she had a giggle that was delightfully bubbly and contagious.
"As I was saying," she continued, "as to how you got here, to the Radiant Garden, I was sorta hoping you could tell me that; nobody knows how in the world you got here, you just sort of showed up during a storm, burned worse than a, well...you know what I mean."
"So this place is called Radiant Garden?" he asked after a short while, digesting what she had said in his mind. Terra nodded, so he continued. "As for me just showing up like that, is that really what happened?" Terra shrugged again.
"It's all I heard from father," she replied, and finished tying off the bandage. "Any way you look at it, it's just bizarre. Hooo! Glad I got your other arm done before you woke up!"
"Yeah, or I'd have to reach over for you to do it, wouldn't I? That would be pretty painful," Xehanort said, and Terra nodded in agreement.
"I've been burned a few times in my life on my finger or hand, it really hurts; you're pretty much burned all over, but the potions are taking care of most of the pain," she said. Xehanort nodded and glanced at his bandaged torso, which he figured was as bad as his arm underneath. The mental image was slightly nauseating, so he looked at the much-nicer image of Terra's face to ease his stomach.
"I suppose so, I don't feel very much," he replied. "Those potion-things...what are they made of, anyways?"
Terra shrugged. "It's something that's always been around, the Moogles make them."
"Moogles...?" Xehanort echoed, absolutely clueless.
"These little creatures that live here; they're everywhere. Really useful little guys, and so cute!" Terra said, smiling. "They invent things and make items. Father adores them, almost as much as ice cream!"
"Ansem likes ice cream?" Xehanort said, a look of childish wonder and utmost seriousness on his face. Terra began to laugh, and was clutching her sides by the time Xehanort spoke again. "Hey, what's so funny?"
"I'm sorry, that was just so random!" she giggled, slightly collecting herself. "You sounded so serious!"
"I still don't see what's funny," Xehanort said, his face absent of a smile. Terra slowly regained her composure and smiled at him.
"You're an interesting person, Xehanort," she grinned. "All that over ice cream? Well, to answer your question, my father loves ice cream, especially sea salt-flavored."
"Eww...but wouldn't that taste disgusting?" Xehanort said, wrinkling his nose, causing the burned flesh beneath to sting a little uncomfortably. Terra shrugged.
"I tried one once; it's an interesting taste, to say the least, like...sprinkling salt on a watery fruit, or popcorn with sugar and salt in it," she explained, glancing at the ceiling when she was trying to come up with food-related metaphors. "I'm not too fond of it, myself."
"Ahh, well that sounds interesting, at least," Xehanort said, and glanced curiously in her direction. "What sorts of foods do you like, anyways?"
Terra giggled a little at Xehanort's somewhat unrelated question; his utter sincerity in everything was really quite endearing.
"Me? Oh, I like strawberry-flavored ice cream, and these really light pastries that Mrs. Gainsborough makes all the time, they're delicious!" she said, smiling as she imagined the subtle flavor of the cake in her mouth, which practically melted as soon as she put her lips on it.
"Who's that? Somebody who lives here?" Xehanort asked. Terra nodded.
"She's the nicest person, really, and so sweet! She runs a bakery, and she has a daughter that's soooo cute, you wouldn't believe it! You should meet her sometime, when you're well enough. I'm sure she'd adore you!" Terra said enthusiastically, for she was a good friend of the Gainsboroughs and often spent her mornings in the bakery.
"I'd like that," Xehanort said, and smiled a little. Terra smiled widely in return, then opened her eyes and glanced curiously at him.
"What sorts of foods do you like, Xehanort?" she asked, somewhat imitating the way Xehanort had asked her the same thing. He didn't seem to notice.
"Oh, I suppose that I like...hot dogs," he said, a far-off look collecting in his exposed amber eye. Terra was silent for a while, blinking a few times.
"...what's a hot dog?" she finally asked, becoming somewhat panicked as she realized what it might mean. "You eat dogs? Like, real dogs? HOT AND COOKED ON A SKEWER?"
"A hot dog? No, no, it's not even related to dogs!" Xehanort said with a slight laugh of surprise, and knit his eyebrows in thought for a moment. "It's like a sausage, but it's made of just one type of meat (not dog meat, you know) and you put it in a long bun and eat it with catsup or mustard."
"A sausage in a bun? Mm, that sounds pretty yummy..." she said thoughtfully. "Wonder if I could make one?"
"Suppose you could," Xehanort replied. "Maybe we could try, later on."
She gave a sunny smile. "Yeah, that would be pretty nice."
The two of them were silent for a while, their minds pleasantly empty for a few brief moments.
"Well, I suppose I should be going in a bit; I finished changing your bandages," Terra announced, getting up and needlessly brushing off her skirt. "Someone will be coming by with breakfast if you'd like; I suppose you'd actually like to eat something substantial, you've been going on potions for the past week, and that can't be good for the stomach."
"That would be wonderful, thank you," Xehanort said. "If you don't mind, would you bring it by? I'd like to talk with you some more."
"I don't see why not," Terra smiled. "All right, then, I'll bring you some breakfast. And, how about this, a book too?"
"Sure! I'd love to do some reading," Xehanort said sunnily, positively overjoyed at the thought.
Terra winked at him and half-flipped her yellow hair around.
"Then it's a deal, I'll be back later!" she announced, and left Xehanort in the study, until she returned, as she promised, a short while later, a tray of food in her hands and a book under her arm.
They spent the afternoon chatting and eating, and she read aloud to him from the book on Moogles for him, which he listened to intently (as his arms were still quite sensitive to movement and it was somewhat impractical to hold a book); she found his face holding the same expression it wore when he asked about the ice cream, which was really quite adorable, she thought, all this studiousness over a small book about Moogles. She mused to herself as she read if he would have the same reaction with a children's book, and giggled at the thought (interrupting a passage of reading, much to his discontent; she began again immediately, after a small fit of giggles.) Once they were finished, there was another satisfying silence made only more delicious by the golden afternoon sun streaming through the window.
"Say, Xehanort?" she asked after a while, breaking the silence.
"Mm?" he replied.
"You don't know how you got here, right? Or what happened before that?" she said.
"Nope, not a clue. It's really strange, I wish I knew why..."
"Uh-huh...so, you know where you came from?"
"Can't say that I do."
"Well, that's quite a shame," Ansem's voice said, as the man who owned it came into the room. "I was wondering where you were, Terra. Enjoying your time?"
"Yes, father, I'm having a lot of fun," she replied with a smile.
"She read to me, it was very kind of her," Xehanort added.
"Is that so?" Ansem said, chuckling warmly. "Kind of you indeed, Terra."
"Thanks, father," she replied, blushing slightly.
"How are you, Xehanort? It's comforting to see you awake and so cheery-eyed," he said, bending down to eye level with the boy.
"Very well, sir, I'm feeling much better," he replied cheerfully. Ansem laughed a little.
"Sir...my goodness, no need to be so formal, my boy," he said. "Use my name, as anyone else would; it's quite all right."
"I sort of owe you, si-, I mean, Ansem," he said, trying not to say the word in question. "Terra told me that you were the one to find me."
"And so I did," Ansem replied. "You owe me nothing, Xehanort; your health is my primary concern."
"Thank you," Xehanort said gratefully.
"I'll be coming by later this evening; I must be off to attend to my apprentices," he said, exiting the room. "If there's anything you need, don't be afraid to ask."
"Oh, say hello to Elaeus and Dilan for me, father!" Terra said happily, and Ansem waved a hand in recognition as he disappeared and closed the door behind him.
"Who are they? Apprentices?" Xehanort asked. "What does that mean?"
"Father's a great scientist; Elaeus and Dilan are apprentices of his, they learn from him and help around in his experiments. They're around our age, I suppose...assuming you're 14, like me," she explained.
"15, I think; that's pretty close, though," Xehanort said, but his tone stated it was beside the point. He leaned forward slightly. "What sorts of things does your father do?"
"Everything," Terra said, in a hushed whisper of admiration for your father, leaning in as well. "He can do just about anything; he's the reason that Radiant Garden is so, well, radiant! When you're well enough to walk, I'll show you!"
A smile slowly spread over Xehanort's face, and his uncovered eye shone with excitement.
"When I'm well...I'd like to be your father's apprentice, too," he said resolutely.
"Well, I don't see why not," Terra said with a smile. "I think that sounds like a great idea; you really like sciences and things?"
Xehanort did not reply, the thought of being an apprentice to a powerful man like Ansem causing him to go momentarily mute with excitement; even though he couldn't quite explain why, such a thought seemed like the most wonderful thing in the entire world.
--
Author's Notes -
Creepy and important things are happening at the beginning of this chapter. ;)
Here are some game-related notes, for your convenience:
- Terra Branford is originally from Final Fantasy 6, much like Setzer was; Yoshitaka Amano originally designed her with blonde hair, but she was given green in the game. I think blonde suits her more, so that's what I chose (I also think that's what they used in the PS1 remakes.) Later on, I may link to a picture of her that I drew.
- Cookies to you if you know who Mrs. Gainsborough's daughter is (I'm sure I'll have to make a lot for all of you...); she'll feature in the future, along with some other somewhat-familiar Final Fantasy and Disney figures. :)
Next Chapter
- Wild is the Wind
