Shmuel was sitting on a little bench in the garden. He was on one of the planets in that huge galaxy.
But the little planet was not very friendly. Several troublemaker Koopas liked to fight with the first one they saw.

That was not very common, of course, but it happens that the galaxy was ALSO not very common. Was actually weird.
The X-9 Galaxy was a strange place, full of bullies, a gray and strange place, full of tense and apprehensive creatures.
Shmuel, however, did not feel threatened. In fact, he was totally indifferent. In fact, he gained a scar on his right eye because of an altercation with a Koopa, but he managed to win. The Koopa was complaining because Shmuel "made him trip" when in fact he tripped by himself. But still the Koopa wanted to leave a mark on the boy.
"And he had leaved a mark" thought Shmuel, giggling in fun. He didn't bother himself with that kind of thing. He always ended up laughing after.
Because he was not there to fight. He was looking through every existing galaxy, searching for his sister Rosalina, who had disappeared long ago.
But Shmuel haven't lived so little as well. He didn't age, but the years went on normally. He had over 100 years old. 115, accurately. But appeared to be sixteen.
For this reason, he thought there was no reason for his sister to be already dead. If he was alive until now, why wouldn't she be alive as well?

Shmuel stood up and looked at the horizon. Even on a planet so gray and "dead" like that, the sunset was wonderful. He kept looking over there, thinking how many galaxies could exist and if he would ever actually find Rosalina.
On the other hand, the boy was extremely experienced in space travel. He could pilot any ship that people threw in his hands. In fact, he had made a ship by himself: the Falcon Arrow. That ship was his pride. Extremely fast and powerful, was a black ship in the shape of a hawk. It had excellent both defense and attack systems. The boy had never lost a race spacecraft in life.
Shmuel ran a hand through his blond hair. His hair was messy, with various points turned to various sides. And it was not very long, but it was not too long.
The boy was wearing a beige shirt, a brown belt coming down from the left shoulder to the belt of his pants, brown pants, gray long-barreled soldier boots, black gloves, fingerless black coat and a great size for an overcoat. He always carried his golden sword on his back. The sword had no jewels encrusted, it was true, but that was what made it faster and improved its performance. Shmuel thought that there was no point in owning a beautiful weapon that could not even defend an attack because of its weight. No, he preferred simple weapons. And that sword itself was actually beautiful, by being golden.

Shmuel's thoughts were interrupted by a heavy hand on his shoulder. The boy turned around to see an Orc looking mad at him.
Orcs were ugly and grumpy creatures, and for some reason, only existed at that small planet Shmuel was currently on. Sure, some of them ventured to other planets, but all were natives of there. Shmuel himself had faced some, and he could tell they had a force equivalent to a ship, at least.
"What are you doing here, boy?" The orc stormed. "This is MY territory!" The orc pointed his thumb to his own chest, then his forefinger to Shmuel. "And you are not allowed to step here, pal! So you better get out of here very quickly!"
"Why?" Shmuel responded calmly, patiently staring at the ugly face before him. "Am I bothering you?"
"This is my territory!" The Orc repeated, louder. "Get out now or I will turn you into paper!
"If I'm not bothering you, then there is no reason to get me out of here, sir," said Shmuel, his coat waving to the wind, his hair disheveled by the same wind. "If I were your enemy, I would understand, but I don't even know you."
"I told you to scram!" Orc said, pulling a heavy mace from his belt. "You didn't hear me! Now I'll kick you out, brat!"

Shmuel sighed and calmly pulled the heavy sword from behind his back.