Second chappie, ta-dah! Introducing Tro, Quat, and 'Fei! Read and enjoy and please review after!

Wakai Kyoushu

Young Assassins

Storm

Trowa lay quietly in his bed, his chest rising and falling evenly as he sleeped. Trowa sleeped a lot. He was either sleeping or reading or thinking. He thought a lot as well, more than most people. S had once said that nine tenths of Trowa's speech had been mistakenly put in his thought pattern when he was born, which was why he was always so quiet. Trowa, of course, didn't mind. What he did mind was when S woke him up roughly. He thought S had learned not to do that the last time, when Trowa had nearly killed his mentor out of reaction. S still had the scar of wherehe had slashed him with his knife.

Trowa's remained motionless as the hands shook his shoulder. His hands shot out suddenly and grabbed the hands shaking him with an iron grip. "I told you not to do that," he said softly without opening his eyes.

"What...?"

Trowa's eyes shot open as the person shaking him spoke. That wasn't S's voice. His green eyes connected with another pair of eyes, ones he did not recognize. It wasn't S shaking him, it was a stranger dressed in a black uniform, a rifle slung over his shoulders. What was this person doing here? Where was S? No one but S ever came into his room, and surely S would have been present if a stranger was here. His eyes quickly scanned the room, seeing three other black uniform clad men with the same rifles standing near the doorway. But no S. Something was wrong...

"Let go of me, kid," the man tried to jerk his arms free, but Trowa held fast. He sat up, still holding the man's wrists tightly.

"Who are you? he asked calmly.

"We're Preventor agents, kid," the man explained. "C'mon, let me go. I was just trying to wake you up."

Trowa stared at him with his one visible eye, the other covered with his bangs. If there were Preventor agents in his room with rifles, then something was definitely wrong. S was in trouble, most likely. Four of them...Trowa would find out where S was, then dispose of them and go warn him. He let go of the man's hands. The man barely had time to notice before Trowa set the gun barrel at his forehead. He noticed the gun very quickly, though, as his eyes went wide and his breath hitched.

"What the...?" one of the agents at the door cursed. "What the hell are you doing?" He directed his attention towards Trowa. Their guns had come up and were trained on him. A minor distraction.

"Where is Doctor S?" Trowa said clearly. The man didn't reply, so Trowa pressed the gun in a bit harder.

"D-doctor S?" the man stuttered. Trowa withheld the urge to roll his eyes. He had spoken clearly and he knew the man had heard him.

"Where is Doctor S?" he directed the question at the other agents this time. He hated having to repeat himself. It was just wasting breath on fools.

"Doctor S and the other have been arrested," one of them said. Trowa smiled inside. This man was intelligent, he knew. Give a direct answer when a gun is pointed at your comrade's head. He wasn't underestimating Trowa, even though he was only a fourteen year old.

"Why?"

"As a suspect in the assassinations."

Trowa mentally chuckled at that. So, the law had finally caught up to S. He would throw that in S's face-in his own quiet way, of course-when he next saw him. If he next saw him. If they had arrested S, then they were probably looking for the assassins. Trowa wondered what they would do if they knew...he put his gun away and held out his hands next to each other. The man immediately backed away and then stared.

"What are you doing?" the one who had cursed asked.

"Arrest me," Trowa said silently, waiting for the handcuffs. He know saw no reason to kill these men, not if S was already captured.

"Why?"

"Number one, I just held a gun at your companion's head," Trowa explained. Even the dumbest idiots should know that. They should have pounced on him already. Maybe they were just hesitating because he was young. Trowa knew that age never mattered concerning the enemy. "Number two, I'm the one you are looking for."

"Come again?" The one Trowa had dubbed number four, the one who hadn't spoken yet, asked.

"You are looking for the assassins, are you not?" Trowa asked, and they nodded. "I am an assassin." They stared at him in disbelief.

"What's your name, kid?" the wise one, number three, asked, giving him a thoughtful look. Trowa knew he would be the one to believe him.

"I have no name," Trowa said. "I am Nanashi. I am nameless."

"C'mon, everybody's got a name," number two, the idiot, scoffed.

"Well," Trowa thought. "If you must call me something, you may call me Trowa Barton."

"Trowa Barton," number three said, looking thoughtful. "The third assassin." He chuckled. "I believe it, Trowa."

oooooOoooooOoooooOoooooOoooooOooooo

Quatre sat in his chair-the one Instructor H had given him after his first successful mission-with a large, old book placed on his lap. It was called 'Legend Of The Dragons' and was very old and very heavy and very large, at least thirty thousand pages long. He had just finished it this afternoon, and had decided to re-read as much as he could before returning it to H to return to its owner. He was on page one hundred seventy eight already, and he knew he could go to at least page four hundred before he had to turn in or bed. One might wonder how Quatre ever knew it was nighttime, since there was no window or no clock, and the lights were always off. But Quatre had a very good sense of time and, after numerous visits from H informing him it was night, he knew exactly when it was all the time.

He flipped the page and began reading the next page of formal, handwritten text. One might also wonder how Quatre could read in the dark. The answer to that was easy. Quatre knew how to do everything in the dark. He had extremely excellent night vision from years of no light. He could see as good in the dark as others could in the light, if not better. It was a benefit for H, who let Quatre do all the night assassinations.

Quatre looked up from his book and frowned at this thought. He didn't like the assassinations at all. He hated doing them, but H never made him assassinate anyone unless they were evil or dark men. Quatre would do it then, if still reluctantly. It had hurt a lot at the beginning, but now he could complete his assignments without breaking down in pain and crying. H had helped him overcome that, and Quatre was thankful to him for it.

The sound of a key entering the lock sounded, and Quatre looked over at the door, expecting to see H come in with another. Hopefully it was to give Quatre another book, and not another assignment. Then again, H didn't know he had completed his book. The door began to open and Quatre quickly shut his eyes, pulling his dark goggles down over them. What was H thinking! He always knew to turn the outer light off before opening the door. Luckily, Quatre had closed his eyes before any of the light had penetrated. He pulled his hood up over his head and hooked his veil up as well, closing his skin off to the light. Then, opening his eyes, he saw someone standing in the doorway. Someone who wasn't H. No wonder the light wasn't off. Only H would know that, since only H ever visited him. And only H knew Quatre hadn't seen light in all his thirteen years. The person at the door was holding a rifle, and he flicked something on the top. Light flared into the room from the searchlight mounted on top. It didn't affect Quatre through the goggles, but he knew it was light. It spanned the room, then stopped on him. Quatre stood up, placing the book on the floor.

"Where's Instructor H?" he asked.

"A kid?" the man spoke. The light fell to Quatre's feet. "What are you doing here? This is a dangerous place for kids. And why are you dressed up like that?" He looked around. "Where's the lightswitch in this place.

"There is no light in this room," Quatre explained. This person didn't belong here if he didn't know that or about Quatre's entirely black outfit, which covered every inch of his skin against light. Quatre was worried. He needed H! "Where's Instructor H?"

"You know that scientist guy?" the man asked, tilting his head. Quatre nodded. "Yeah, well, he's been arrested."

"Arrested?" Quatre's eyes went wide, though the man couldn't see it. "Why?"

"He's a suspect in the assassinations."

"But...no!" Quatre exclaimed, raising his black gloved hands in protest. "You can't arrest him! He hasn't done anything!"

"He damn well has, kid," the man said. "Now, c'mon. I gotta get you out of here. There are assassins on the loose somewhere down here, and I have to get back to finding them before they escape or hurt anyone."

"You're looking for me?" Quatre was scared. He didn't want to be arrested, didn't want to go to jail. He hadn't kiled anyone who didn't deserve to die, H had told him!

"No, I'm not," the man said. "What would make you think that?"

Quatre blinked. "...because I'm an assassin." The man stared at him, then laughed.

"I don't have time for jokes, kid," he chuckled. "C'mon. I've got work to do."

"I'm not joking!" Quatre cried out. "Arrest me, take me to jail. Just let Instructor H go, he's innocent."

"You can't protect him, kid. Definitely not with a crazy claim like that."

"It's not crazy, and I'm not joking, and I'm telling the truth!" Quatre yelled. He had to do something drastic, or H would never be let go. He pulled out the gun H had given him and shot the roof. "See? I have a gun!"

"You shouldn't be playing around with that," the man exclaimed, seeming slightly startled. "Where'd you get it? Whose it is?"

"It's mine!" Quatre yelled. He shot at the man, narrowly missing him by a few inches on purpose. The man jumped and the rifle came up. "There! I tried to kill you. Now you have to arrest me!"

The man swallowed and stared at Quatre. "You're nuts, I swear. What's your name, kid?"

"Quatre Raberba."

"Quatre Raberba? Holy shit, you are an assassin!"

oooooOoooooOoooooOoooooOoooooOooooo

Tranquility...

Wufei breathed deeply, preparing to set himself in a state of meditation. Each and every time after completing a workout, he would sit down on the mat and meditate for an hour or two. It helped calm his adrenaline, and helped him think. He always meditated before an assignment as well, knowing calm would help bring about complete control. One had to be in control if they did what he did, and Wufei prided himself on it. He sat, breathing deeply, calm and peaceful and happy.

Wufei frowned as his meditation was shaken a bit by the door opening behind him. He had told Master O to oil the hinges so many times! He suspected he would have to locate a can of oil somehow when next he did an assignment, however hard it would be or how much trouble it would get him in. That door would make him go mad if he didn't do something. He waited to hear it squeak shut so he could fully return to his meditation. He knew Master O would never interrupt his meditation, unless it was an emergency. The door didn't squeak, and Wufei's brows furrowed over his closed eyes as he wondered what the emergency was. He heard footsteps coming up behind him and a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey."

Wufei's eyes shot open and his hand shot up, grabbing an unknown arm and flinging whoever it was over his shoulder. The person landed with an 'oof' and a grunt of pain.

"What the hell was that for?" he yelled from the wall.

Wufei glared at him, standing up and setting himself in a fighting stance. He sensed another behind him. Two against one. The odds were in his favor. Wufei was an expert at martial arts, having surpassed Master O, the best martial arts fighter in the world, in Wufei's opinion, three years ago, when he was ten. It had been incredibly hard to flip O's large frame over his ten year old body, but his agility and speed had helped him have an advantage. He and Master O sparred regularly even now, improving Wufei's already monumental skills. He could take out ten grown men alone now, and more if they came at him only three at a time. He was also an expert swordsman, a skill also taught to him by Master O, who had given Wufei his very own sword on the eve of his first true assignment.

The person he had thrown into the wall stood up now, looking at him as though he was crazy while rubbing his sore back. "You crazy or something? Nearly broke my spine."

He exaggerated, and Wufei took advantage of this. "Oh, drat," he clicked his tongue, speaking with sarcasm. "My plan failed. I must have miscalculated."

"We never did anything to you, kid!" the one behind him spoke. Oh, but they did. They had come in his room, and Master O was not with them. No one but Master O ever came, and he would have told Wufei if others were going to meet him. Which therefore meant these were unexpected visitors, which meant they weren't supposed to be here. Not to mention they had rudely interrupted his meditation and pissed him off. He mentally thought of how he should knock them out. Unexpected visitors or not, he wouldn't kill unless Master O told him to or his life was threatened. He had a sense of justice deep within him. That didn't mean they couldn't get a little beat up in the process, though. He didn't mind another workout. Now if only they would attack him. He hated waiting for them to take the first move. But that was part of his belief as well, that he only fought back. Only defense, never offense, unless ordered to or when concerning a mission.

The one by the wall, who was now rotating his obviously sore neck, spoke. "Don't try and hurt us, kid. We're just here to take you out of here. This isn't a place for kids."

"This is my home," Wufei said, still ready for attack. "Why would you take me out of my home?"

"Your home?" the one behind him asked. "You mean you actually live here?"

"Yes," he said. "And you aren't supposed to be here."

"What could make you live in a place where assassins live?" Wufei frowned. Did they not know he was an assassin? Apparently not.

"And why was your door locked then?" the sore one asked. "Is this a 'prisoner in your own home' scenario?"

"I'm not a prisoner," Wufei smirked. "The door is locked to protect others from me." He was pretty sure that was the reason.

"Good idea. Man, you've got a nice move there. Hurts, man..."

"It's supposed to."

"C'mon," the one behind him scoffed. "How dangerous are you, kid?"

"Come and find out," Wufei taunted.

"I don't fight kids, sorry." Apparently the man thought he was something.

"How do you know that move?" sore one asked. He knew that he had to get a hint of his potential opponents strength before entering into combat. Not that he was about to fight the kid himself, but he was curious. "That was a good martial arts move. Who are you, kid? Why do you live in a locked room in a place where assassins roam free?"

"I'm Wufei Chang," Wufei said.

"Hey, that's one of the names of the assassins!" the man behind him exclaimed. "But...does that mean...he's just a kid, though...?"

The one facing Wufei grinned and chuckled, rubbing his neck again. "Well, that explains a lot."

Woot! I like these guys! Please review! Pretty please...

Storm