Here it is, the first chapter. This was a difficult chapter to write in terms of content, because of everything I had to introduce about my new character. But other than that it gets the story going. Sorry if it seems a little long; I get caught up in the moment sometimes when I'm writing something I like :P

Sorry I took so long; the Internet kept distracting me. .

Xaros Skyloft is stuck in an orphanage with no family or friends to call his own. Everyone there is afraid of him, and he hates them all. A strange new person comes to visit him day after day, but then that's when things start to get strange…

Ch. 1: A New Beginning

"The most incomprehensible thing about the world is that it is comprehensible."

-Albert Einstein

"Hey, Jar-oats Sky-left! Find a tattoo-remover yet?"

I ignored them. The nickname was so lame it wasn't even worth getting mad about, though that last remark reminded me to slip my black fingerless gloves back onto my hands.

That remark stemmed from the fact that I had a strange birthmark on the back of my left hand – a birthmark by the looks of it, anyway. It was in the shape of a flame, like something you would see on a torch or a bonfire. The flame looked different though – it was split in half, and left side was darker than the right. Sure, it was interesting to look at, but I didn't like talking about it. Whenever someone asked, I immediately shut them out. Pretty soon I grew tired of the whole thing, so started to wear the gloves to hide it. For some reason, whenever someone brought it up I got nervous to the point I would start sweating.

As for the "Jar-oats Sky-left" remark, it was supposed to be a really rude pun of my name, Xaros Skyloft. I didn't want to know where they got the "Jar-oats" bit. It seemed too ridiculous. As for "Sky-left", that was because the kids here would look for any aspect to tease someone about, and for me it was because I was the only left-handed kid in the orphanage, not to mention the stupid birthmark had to be on my left hand. It didn't really matter that I was the only leftie, since no one notices unless I'm eating or writing – neither of which I do very often. But once it got noticed, I was constantly ribbed for something that wasn't even my fault.

I was one of the oldest kids in the orphanage – I turned seventeen just a few weeks past. There were only two others that were older than I was, two brothers whose names were Ardel and Fischal Aerge. Ardel was a huge thickset guy with short brown hair in a buzz-cut, and Fischal was tall, thin as a twig and just about as smart, and a shaggy mane of black hair that looked as if it had been blow-dried by an elephant. Ardel was the older one, at eighteen, and his brother was seventeen, just a few months older than I was. From what I heard, they were brought in ages ago, but no one even looked at them when they came to possibly adopt a kid. Not that I could blame them – if I were a soon-to-be parent I wouldn't adopt them even if they paid me.

But then again, no one wanted to adopt me either. Guess it's not really surprising. For as long as I remember being here no one seemed comfortable around me – not even the people who worked here. The older kids excluded me, the younger ones were so terrified of me they would run away whenever I walked into a room. They didn't even try to talk to me. Those jerks. They made me a pariah in a group of unwanted children.

The only person that didn't seem to be afraid of me was Sora Irino, and he was only a random guy that had walked into my quarters unbidden on my seventeenth birthday one foggy February morning, and had kept visiting ever since. I had no idea who he was, but he didn't seem to mind me at all. I was pretty suspicious of him at first, but several visits later I soon started to look forward to seeing him. He was really easy to be around, and that also lifted the dreary fog in my mind whenever I was alone.

Sora was pretty mature, he seemed to be in his twenties, but he managed to retain the face of a teenager – something I found astounding. He had untidy, spiky caramel brown hair framing a set of deep blue eyes that always shone, and he smiled a lot. In spite of his cheer, he wore dark clothes – a black and silver hoodie that he wore unzipped so you could see what he called his "trademark crown chain" around his neck and an indigo undershirt. He wore fingerless gloves like me, except his had gold trimming on the finger holes. His jeans were also black, and they were baggy, with zippers that ran from knee to hem, which were usually zipped mid-calf, and chains of a similar nature to the one on his neck swung from his right hip. He also wore simple black tennis shoes. In other words, Sora was pretty damn awesome.

I was in the waiting room, slouched on one of those cheap plastic chairs that squeaked whenever I moved. Ardel and Fischal had just passed by me laughing stupidly, slopping muddy footprints on the linoleum floor after trying to stage one of their "mud fights". Fischal had flung the insult at me as they trod toward the cafeteria, shouting excitedly to each other as they went, probably to start a food fight to make up for their inability to create mudballs from the rivers of mud outside.

I stared at my reflection on the window in front of me without seeing it – my spiky jet black hair, disheveled as usual, and the golden-yellow eyes glaring at the barely visible reflection. I stared past it outside the window, where the raindrops pelted against the thick glass like bullets and veil the distant buildings outside a depressing shade of gray. My spirits just sank lower than the stupefying pallor outside. It didn't seem as if he was going to make it today.

Sora visited me almost every day – even I was surprised at his dedication to someone he'd never met before. Several drop-ins later he hinted at knowing some of my history – which of course I asked him endlessly about.

I had no idea who I was, or where I came from. I woke up one day in this brick prison, only having my name and the feeling in my gut that there was something important that I'd forgotten to do and I couldn't recall what. I never told anyone about that, since no one really would have given a crap about any of it anyway, but when I first saw him I felt the urge to tell him everything for the first time. But I managed to change the subject before he caught on. It might seem kind of stupid, asking someone you barely know if they know anything about you, but it didn't feel weird asking him, though he was evasive when it came to my history. It irritated me, but I didn't push him when he got uncomfortable.

I heaved myself of the sorry excuse for a plastic chair and go back to my quarters, thinking that it wasn't any use waiting any longer. Just as I straightened and turned to leave, the front door slammed open so hard it caused the window to shudder under the force of the blow. Instinctively I turned to see who it was.

"Man, it's a nightmare out there!"

"Sora!"

Sure enough, Sora was standing at the door, completely soaked to the bone. He looked as if he had jumped in a lake on the way here. But somehow his hair was still spiky despite the profound lack of umbrellas.

Sora must've seen the look on my face, because he quickly explained, "My umbrella turned inside out and flew to nowhere just a few minutes after I took off. I didn't have an extra so I just ran here as fast as I could."

"Holy crap, dude; you look like you went swimming with your clothes on," I remarked.

"Not my fault that it's raining like hell out there," he retorted. He accepted a towel from our receptionist ("Thanks for that," he said) and kept talking as he started drying himself off as best as he could. "I had some good news, but since rain was on the forecast I thought I'd wait a bit, but then I realized that I couldn't keep it to myself that long, so I decided to come anyway to tell you, so here I am."

"It must be pretty damn good if you came all this way not caring if you drowned or not," I said.

"Aren't you just peachy." Sora handed the soaking towel back to the receptionist. His clothes were still wet but looked slightly better. He then swiftly jogged over to me, closing the distance between us in five strides. His trademark grin now stretched from ear to ear.

"Well, what is it? Spit it out," I urged. I knew it was going to be good, judging from his smile, which was huge even by his standards.

"I'm moving out tomorrow," he announced as if it were the best thing I'd ever heard. "After seeing you several times I decided that I needed some of my own space. So I arranged it and everything is smooth sailing from there."

"That's the big news that couldn't wait?" I raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "So you're moving out. Big deal. What good does it do me?"

"You honestly didn't think I'd be living all by my lonesome, did you?" he teased me.

It took me a moment to piece together what he was trying to say.

"No way…" I gasped, open-mouthed, hardly daring to believe it. "Are…are you for real? You're not screwing with me, are you?"

"'Course not. You know me better than that, don't you?"

"I do know that you suck at lying," I dropped bluntly.

"Well then, there you go. This is your last night in this crappy place that they call an orphanage," he clarified.

I tossed and turned that night, too excited to sleep. Tomorrow I'd be out of here for good. I would have all the time in the world to ask Sora anything I needed to. This was still like a dream come true; it didn't feel real. I couldn't believe that this was actually happening.

I had lost count of how many times I had wanted to run away from this hellhole. But at those times I had nowhere to run to. After Sora had begun visiting me, I even thought about running away to wherever he stayed, but that was a false hope. I wouldn't know where to go, and I barely even knew him, so I knew that it would seem kind of awkward. But still…it felt like it would be okay. For some reason, I felt like I belonged with him.

I flipped over, ending up facing my window. Right then a movement caught my eye. I sat up to get a better look at whatever it had been, but was only met with the moonlight and the endless sky of stars.

"You saw something outside your window? Did you see what it was?"

It was the late afternoon of the next day. After filling out all the necessary forms and whatever else needed to be done (I wasn't aware of the process of adopting a kid since I never actually saw it happen) Sora had taken me out to walk home. It occurred to me then that even though Sora was of age, he didn't drive. I asked him about this, and due to the meandering characteristics that conversations have, it turned to the topic of last night.

"You mean you're nineteen and you still can't drive?" I exclaimed incredulously.

"I can drive perfectly fine!" he protested. "It's just that my brothers don't trust me with a car – especially after I took their Prius out for a joyride without telling them. They wouldn't talk to me for a whole week."

"You have brothers?" I observed, surprised. He had never talked about his family when he visited.

"Oh, right, guess I forgot to touch upon that small subject; I'm the oldest of three. I have two younger brothers, and they're identical twins. I told them all about you yesterday, as I'm taking you in and everything. Of course after hearing about that they decided that they were going to move in with me too…" He looked a bit disgruntled. "Anyway, right now they're already at my place and they can't wait to meet you."

Sora had brothers…not something I'd anticipated, but it didn't change my aspect very much. For the first time in my life, I'd have a family, lacking in parental figure as it were, but I didn't ask. It didn't seem too important.

I have a hollow laugh. "Too bad they couldn't pick us up. I'd feel safer after last night."

"Why? What happened last night?" Sora was alert, like he always was whenever he thought anything remotely dangerous had been near me, and I instantly regretted those words. It was nice of him to be concerned about me, I guess, but it was also kind of disconcerting.

"It's nothing big, really," I assured him quickly. "I just saw something outside my window, that's all."

"You saw something outside your window? Did you see what it was?"

"No, not really; it was too dark. It was gone by the time I tried to take a closer look."

Sora's expression turned dark. I couldn't fathom why; it was nothing too horrible. Before I got the chance to say so, someone stepped into our path and obstructed it. I indicated this to Sora, who was otherwise preoccupied. He looked up at the figure in front of us and his eyes widened in shock, then promptly proceeded to push me behind him.

"You!" he growled, clenching his hands into fists. "You have some nerve showing up after all this time!"

"Oh, come on, I expected a warmer welcome than that. Harsh, harsh." The figure tut-tutted. "You've really grown since the last time I saw you, Sora."

"Drop the act. I know what you're here for."

"Ignoring the pleasantry and all to business I see," he noted. "I guess you matured a little bit, but you're still as dense as ever. You know you have no hope against us."

"Say that after you knock us down."

"Ooh, what a sharp tongue you got. More impressive still," he said, then grinned underneath the shadowy cowl of his cloak. The only discernable features I could make out were his pale hands; the rest of him was completely garbed in a black coat. He had a brown leather belt around his hip buckled on the right, and his black pants were tight on him. He had a red shoulder plate on his right shoulder with a strange symbol on it, something I can't describe. It scared me more than you know.

What scared me even more were the harsh words being exchanged by these two. I had no idea what they were discussing, and I didn't want to know, but just from looking at him I knew that this guy was dangerous. Sora knew it too, but he chose to bear down on him with glares and tirades anyway. As unnerved as I was, I couldn't help but feel a prick of admiration.

The hooded guy kept talking. "You have no idea what we went through to find this kid. He's got guts, I'll give him that. Who would've thought he'd be hidden in a place as generic as an orphanage?"

I couldn't comprehend a word this enigma was spouting, but I wanted to know, so I couldn't keep quiet anymore. "Sora, tell me what's going on! Who is he?"

Sora didn't budge so much as an inch, his eyes still trained fixedly on the figure before him. He was either so focused on his apparent enemy that he hadn't heard, or he had chosen to ignore my inquiry. Regardless, he didn't reply.

The guy in front of us gave a mirthless laugh that sent chills down my spine. "How refreshing! So he did go through with that thrice-blasted plan of his. I can't say as I'm surprised. Quite typical of him, the little jerk."

Sora's eyes narrowed slightly at this comment, and I started at his influx of words. He spoke as if he knew something about me and my past. Could he possibly –

"Shut up!" Sora shouted, taking a step forward as if he wanted to throttle him. The way he glared at him, he looked…lethal. "You bastard; if you have the nerve to show your face to me after all these years, least of all for him, you're nothing more than a damn cunt. You're not going to take him. Even if you have to kill me; I'm not stepping aside!"

"What the hell is going on, Sora? Tell me!" I demanded. Their exchange was getting so confusing that my head began to throb, even though I wasn't even part of the conversation.

"So, you haven't told him anything yet, apparently," the figure said, completely disregarding Sora's words as if he was insignificant. I flinched as he turned to face me with a furtive expression. "How much more fascinating can you get, Skyloft?"

How did he know my name?

He then proceeded to reach into his coat; at that precise second I could've sworn that Sora's had glowed blue for an instant when it twitched as if he was anxious to hold a weapon that would cut this guy down, but it seemed more plausible – and sane – to surmise that it had been a trick of the sunlight bouncing off in waves from the worn pavement.

In that same second, Sora snatched my wrist and dragged me right past the hooded figure before he could draw his hand out. The two locked eyes for a moment as we passed him, Sora's venom-filled eyes met the figure's merciless ones.

All of me wanted to shake off Sora's hand and demand an explanation to this turn of events, but something in Sora's expression told me to lay off. I got a feeling that he didn't want to discuss what had just transpired. His eyes were filled with pain and wet with angry tears. I turned back to where we had left our oppressor. He had disappeared.

The house was nothing special. It was small, not meant to hold a lot of people. It was a light shade of beige, and the roof tiles were dark brown. The lawn was wild; it looked like it hadn't been trimmed in weeks. A simple iron fence surrounded the otherwise small property, and terracotta stone steps led up to the front porch. Overall, a nice, quiet place to live.

But the house was the last thing on my mind.

We'd reached the front gate, and Sora finally released my arm. It was red where he had held on, what with him gripping so tightly, so I rubbed the area to restore circulation. In the midst of this I stole a glance at Sora. He was clutching the frame of the iron fence, using it as a brace to keep his knees from giving way. It was a bad time to ask, and I knew it. But I couldn't stay quiet. Not after that.

"Sora, you have to give me the benefit of the doubt. You need to tell me what just happened."

I didn't really expect him to answer, so I was surprised when he replied wearily, "It's nothing…just a guy that I've been having problems with for a while…"

"Um…" I was caught off guard by the pain in his voice. "It…seemed a bit more than that," I pointed out uneasily.

Sora sighed deeply. "Damn…" He turned away, burying his face in his hands, and muttered, "Look, I'm sorry, Xaros…I'm really sorry, but…it's not such a great time, okay? I'm sorry."

His tone was very apologetic and his eyes were filled with torment from an unknown plague, so I desisted from further questions. "Well…okay then," I said. "We can talk about it later…right?"

He ran his fingers through his hair. He tried for a smile, but it was empty. "If it were only that easy…"

We stood at the gate in silence for an eternal minute. I didn't feel the need or the wherewithal to break it, not that I had anything to say. The silence wasn't awkward, but it wasn't exactly comfortable either.

"Xaros," Sora finally broke the silence. "We should go inside. It's getting late, and my brothers will be wondering where we are."

"Yeah. Okay."

I don't know what thoughts percolated his mind in that moment, but I was sure of what had dominated my thoughts from the moment that we'd been accosted by that stranger.

He knew something about me that I didn't. And so did Sora.

Trouble was, neither of them seemed to be willing to tell.

No sooner had Sora touched the doorknob when it burst open, knocking him backward so hard I had to catch him so he wouldn't hit the ground. I raised my head to see the person who had opened the door.

"Oh, man, sorry about that, Sora!" The guy standing at the door held his hand half-stretched toward him, with a highly contrite expression. I observed him minutely. He looked a bit younger than me, probably sixteen. He had golden blond hair, spiky like Sora's, except that his spikes were neater, more subdued and gently swept to the right. Like Sora, his eyes were blue, and just as bright, now filled with concern. He dressed somewhat casually; he was wearing plain beige jeans with a black belt, and his sweater, long-sleeved and thick, was black and the cuffs were white. A red collar was poking through his sweater. There was a chain around his neck too; it looked like a four-pronged star. His shoes were white with several red and black Velcro. I noticed that there was a checkered wristband on his left arm. From this observation, I took him to be one of Sora's brothers. "You were taking longer than we thought, and Ven was starting to get worried, so I thought I'd –"

Sora waved his hand away, and used my shoulder as a brace to stand upright. "Chill out, Roxas. I'm fine, honest – having a door slam into my face, it's snapped me awake, let me tell you."

"But I almost knocked you to the ground!" he protested.

"I'm okay, Roxas; stop worrying yourself over nothing. It was only a bump." Sora seemed a bit irritated at his brother's persistence.

"Nice brother," I noted in an aside to Sora. Before he could reply, his brother had just seemed to have taken notice of me.

"Oh, hey, you must be Xaros!" he exclaimed, grinning. "Glad to meet you; my name's Roxas! Hope we get along." He held out a hand to shake, and I accepted.

"With someone like Sora living with us, I doubt it'll be all that hard," I replied, returning the grin. He seemed a likable guy. As strange and fastidious as he appeared to be, I had a feeling that we'd get along pretty well.

Sora clapped us both on the back. "There, you're friends already. That makes things easier for me." Sora glanced into the house's interior over Roxas's shoulder and raised an eyebrow. "Hey, Roxas…where's Ven?"

Roxas suddenly looked uneasy at the mention of his twin, not meeting Sora's eyes. His face turned a bright red. "Um, well, he's…uh…"

"Spit it out, already."

"He's, um…touching the…you know…" Roxas managed to say as he shrugged sheepishly, an abashed and fearful grin forming on his tomato-like face. A look of comprehending wiped Sora's features clean as he understood what his brother meant.

"Ven!" he roared. "You're dead, just wait till I get a hold of you, I told you to keep your hands off –"

He stormed into the house, roughly shoving past Roxas, still shouting, and left the two of us alone on the front porch.

"What was that all about…?" I muttered, confused.

"It's a long story," Roxas said, then stepped aside. "You'll see Ven in a minute; Sora's scary as hell when he gets upset. In the meantime, come on in and I'll show you where you'll be sleeping. I'm sure you don't want to sleep outside on your first day here."

I nodded in thanks. "That's sounding pretty good."

I'd hardly taken five steps into the cramped living room before Sora emerged from the dark hallway on the right, dragging someone that I assumed to be Ven. Sora was right, they were identical – I couldn't tell their faces apart at all. If anything, though, their outfits were the only way I could distinguish them. For one, Ven wore gray denim shorts that came down to his knees, and his crisp white shirt was completely unbuttoned, revealing a dark green undershirt halfway tucked in. His sleeves were rolled up so that the stiff cuffs were covering his elbows. His shoes were also black, with green stripes on the sides and white heels. All in all, he didn't really care how he dressed.

Sora now had him in a deadlock and Ven was gasping for air, his hands straining at the effort of pulling at Sora's arms in a futile attempt to free himself from the choke-hold.

"Okay, okay – truce! Truce!" he managed to choke out, his face turning blue. "I won't do it again, I won't; I promise! I'm sorry, Sora! Let me go, I can't breathe!"

"You damn idiot – Xaros is here and you're not giving a damn whatsoever, and on top of that you go and touch my things when I told you specifically not to – you should set an example for Roxas, you're the older one, for God's sake –"

"Only by three minutes!" gagged Ven. "Besides, he doesn't – even need an example set for him – he's a damn nerd –"

"Shut the hell up!" Roxas cried, his face going bright red again. "Sora's right, you know, you should act more mature, I don't care that you're only minutes older than I am –"

I just stood there, observing the scene unfold with amusement. From what I was gleaning from the sibling argument, Ven was the older one, but Roxas was apparently the more mature of the two. Talk about a case of irony. This wasn't the first time that I'd seen Sora pissed off, and I deducted that catching him in a bad mood was not the smartest thing to do if you valued your skin. As easygoing as he seemed to be, Sora could be pretty intimidating if the situation warranted. Ven didn't seem to take this to heart very much, and it kept coming back to bite him on the ass, judging from the harsh words being shot at each other. I smiled despite myself. I was going to enjoy living here.

After several minutes had passed, Sora had finally tired of choking Ven, and released him. Ven pounded his chest to let air into his lungs. Roxas shot Ven a look of childish contempt as he stepped up to speak with me.

"That…wasn't a very good first impression, was it?" he began, and he scratched his head in embarrassment. "My name's Ventus, but I usually go by Ven. And, um, sorry you had to see that, by the way. I'm nice most of the time, honest."

Sora rolled his eyes at this last comment, but I grinned amusedly. "No worries. It's not every day the first I see of someone is of them in a strangle-hold. Consider yourself privileged."

"Gee, I'm honored."

"Don't mention it."

"Hey, Xaros," Roxas spoke up, and I turned. "I didn't get a chance to show you to your room before we were so rudely interrupted" – he shot an irritated glance at Ven, who was now being pulled by the ear back into the hallway by a still-disgruntled Sora who was ignoring his cries of pain – "so come on. It's over this way."

He led me through the same hallway that Sora and Ven had disappeared into. In the first room we passed, I glimpsed Ven getting head-noogied by Sora on one of two wooden beds, its covers in a heap on the wooden floor. We then passed the bathroom on the opposite wall of the corridor, and I asked Roxas if it was the only one in the house. He told me that there was a second one, conjoined into the room I was going to sleep in. I was surprised that none of them had leapt at the chance to get a bathroom all to themselves.

"You know, you guys really didn't need to – I mean, you barely know me –"

"Hey don't worry about it," he assured me. "You're our brother now, and it's the least we could do. Our rooms are comfortable, so don't sweat it."

I smiled in thanks and fell silent. I wasn't sure why, but paranoia began to creep into my chest. It felt like they were trying to distract me from something via these spoils.

It felt intentional.

"Hey, Xaros! Focus!"

"Huh? Ouch!"

I was knocked backward onto the weathered mat, the stick flying out of my hand for the tenth time. And this time, I stayed down. I was so battered I couldn't find the energy push myself back up. I was completely wiped out.

Sora walked over to where I lay and scratched his head. "Hmm…maybe this isn't right for you either."

"No kidding," I groaned from my spread-eagled position on the mat. "You guys are insane. You do this every day? For real?"

"Not much else for us to do, so I guess you could say that."

"Just perfect."

Here's what's going on – After a couple of days with the three, I learned that Sora, Ven and Roxas all had a hobby in combat training, and had set up a training ground in their backyard (which by the way is pretty big for such a small house) in which they practiced every day from dawn until whenever it got too dark to continue. They took breaks, of course, but their dedication to their hobbies was still staggering. In that time I saw that each of their preferences differed from one another.

Sora was more comfortable with close-quarters combat or, more specifically, sword-fighting. Since using real swords were obviously dangerous, he used wooden facsimiles, which he called "sword-sticks". I didn't know about him, but I personally didn't like being jabbed over and over by anything. Whenever I watched him in action, I was awed by the way he smoothly glided from one stance to the next. It was like watching a violent, choreographed solo dance.

Roxas on the other hand favored long-range, as in he liked to shoot things more. He told me that he used a plain handgun (an M1911 pistol, he told me) or – when he felt daring – an air rifle. They had a shooting range set up in the far corner of the property so he wouldn't hurt anyone on accident, though I felt it was hardly necessary – he was a perfect shot and he handled the equipment with amazing skill despite his age. The way his face transformed when he was focused solely on the target was impressive as well.

Ven was an anomaly – he focused on mid-range, a not-too-close-but-not-too-far fighting style, and as such wielded a rather large boomerang, which spanned two and a half feet from end to end. When he had showed me, I was puzzled at first. The boomerang was such a tact-on antique weapon – who would want to use it nowadays? "It's simple to use, and strong and light too, so you can throw it multiple times in succession without getting tired or worrying about it breaking," he'd explained to me. "That's good for me since I'm a bit prone to doing that. It's long because I could just hit something that was too close for me to throw this at. That's what the metal coating on the right end is for. I had it custom-made."

That was cool and everything, but they suddenly decided that it was a great idea to introduce me to their training, no matter how many times I refused for fear of messing something up. So I was forced to try each station of their training grounds against my wishes, each with disastrous results.

On the first day of the trials, I experimented with the boomerang, and after a few minutes of tossing and whacking I realized that this weapon wasn't right for me. I hit everything in the backyard but the targets, and as if to add insult to injury, at one point the weapon knocked Ven on the back of his head on the metal end, which gave him a headache for the rest of the day. I apologized endlessly for the incident and he told me multiple times not to sweat it, although he refused to come near me whenever I was holding anything until the next day.

That day I practiced at the shooting range with Roxas, which immediately unnerved me before I even held a gun. I didn't know how to handle one, never having held or even seen anything remotely similar to it, so I tried really hard to convince them otherwise about letting me fire one. Unfortunately, I lost that argument. My first shot panged against the brick wall. My second grazed a tree branch that was stretching over the targets. The third attempt was the worst – I had somehow managed to shoot through a gap in the aforementioned brick wall and blow up a pipe in one of the neighbor's backyards. I was surprised that we didn't get sued.

And now, on the third day, I "fenced with sticks" against Sora, but you already know the outcome of that. I was completely flattened. I didn't manage to even touch him; I was down and out almost immediately at the beginning of each match.

"Damn, Xaros," Sora remarked as he slung the wooden stick over his shoulder. "You're a hard case."

"Tell me something I don't know." I didn't know how to take that statement. "Guess I'm not cut out for fighting after all."

"Hey, don't beat yourself over just yet; it was only three weapons." He paused and put a hand under his chin, musing. "But there must be something here you can use…"

The major overstatement of the year.

The three of them stubbornly clung to the belief that it was because of my handedness that I constantly sucked. Since all three of them were right-handed, they had no extra left-grip weapons, which they said contributed to my awkwardness in the way I handled their equipment. But to be honest here, even if they did miraculously discovered something in the muggy contents of a storage closet that a leftie like me could use, I doubted that I'd be any better. The weapons they utilized just weren't meant for me.

Just before I could tell Sora that I just might as well be their towel boy since I couldn't amount to anything else besides, Sora's eyes suddenly shone with an epiphany so intense it somewhat alarmed me.

"That's it; I know just the thing! I can't believe I'd forgotten about it this whole time!" Sora faced me, his expression radiant with excitement, and continued, "It's a long shot, but it's better than nothing. Hang tight for a sec, okay? I'll be right back!" He then disappeared through the back door so quickly I was still forming the words that I wanted to speak in my head.

Ven came over to where I sat, his boomerang over his shoulder, apparently curious as to why Sora had looked and sounded so excited. Roxas was still at the shooting range, nailing the bulls-eye each time. I took the fact that he was wearing earmuffs so his ears wouldn't blow up from the bangs from the gun, coupled with the bangs themselves, as the reason why he hadn't noticed Sora's exclamation or his mad dash into the house. "Where's he off to?"

"No idea."

"Hmm." Ven absentmindedly twirled his boomerang in his hand like a baton for a few moments before saying, "So, is the close-quarters thing going for you?"

I shook my head and chuckled ruefully. "Nope. He killed me.

"Maybe after seeing how you handled our equipment, he caught on to your fighting style. I did."

"Yeah, I'm sure he did. He saw that I'm not cut out for combat and probably went to go get a visor and a tray so I can start acting as your towel boy."

Ven laughed. "That's a good one. You're funny. But that's not the reason, far from it. "

"Oh, really? Then what are you talking about?"

Here Ven launched into a word-by-word analysis of my fighting style. I had to hand it to the kid – as klutzy and scatterbrained as he was, he was smart when it came to his specialty. Most of the time I had no idea what he was saying, but I was impressed by the wealth of his knowledge nevertheless.

"You don't really have a grasp on using both your hands for the same actions. In other words, each of your hands likes to do its own thing, and just using one hand imbalances you, too. Both of them need to be occupied and doing something independent. Do you get what I'm trying to say? That's why you're not really on par with what we do. That handgun you need either one hand or two to shoot, and like I mentioned earlier it doesn't sit very well with the way your body moves, and my boomerang needs just one hand, which really doesn't go for you, and the sword-fighting – well, that's just out of the question. Your hands need to move together, and they're just not made for that. That's probably what he saw."

I thought about his closing comments. I had thought that there was something iffy going on between those weapons and me, but now that it was all laid out for me I could see the problem. My hands weren't in synch when I used the handgun and the wooden sword, and I'd felt strangely imbalanced when I'd held the boomerang. So what Ven had told me had made sense. I needed a weapon that was light and capable of independently occupying both hands or I'd be stuck as a liability the whole time I was living here.

"Hey, guys. What's going on? And where'd Sora disappear to?"

"Oh, Roxas." Ven turned to face his brother. "You finished with your shooting?"

"Yep. Man, I feel stiff." He removed his worn leather gloves and stuffed them roughly into his back pocket, then he sat in a cross-legged position next to me on the mat. "So how did the sparring go?"

I repeated the story to him hastily so nothing of note would register in his mind. But I should've known that Roxas of all people would catch on to things.

"Let me see if I got this right," Roxas said after I'd finished (and I can assure you that it didn't take long), "You blew up our neighbor's pipe, broke everything breakable in the backyard, Ven is now on your literal hitlist" – Ven shot him a dirty look, which he promptly ignored – "and you got an ass-plant on the mat." He paused. Then he continued, "So how's that feel?"

"Like I'm just a pathetic excuse of a fighter. I should go back to the orphanage to spare you the shame of living with a failure like me," I said bitterly.

Roxas smiled warmly as he clapped me on the shoulder. "Don't sweat it, Xaros; it was only your first time holding any weapons at all. You can't expect to be an expert at this right when you start. It takes a lot of practice." I only grunted in response. I halfheartedly wondered how long these three had been at it.

"He's right, Xaros," Ven joined in. "We were complete beginners when we first started. Sora, he did more damage to himself than he did to the dummies when he picked up his first wooden sword. He was breaking bones, getting bruised and lacerated left and right. It's a wonder he kept going. And you wouldn't believe how many times we had to pay for property damage when Roxas started off with his first gun. Once there were so many holes on the back wall of our house it looked like it came from a cork."

Roxas flushed at this revelation, the lashed back with his own counterargument. "Oh, yeah? Then what about the first time you threw a boomerang? You ended up knocking out an old man and he had to stay in the hospital for weeks when they found out he had a concussion! We had to pay the bills and everything!"

"But that was an accident!" Ven protested. "And besides, how was I supposed to know I was supposed to throw it at a certain angle?"

"There's no making excuses to get out of this, Ven. You were worse than both of us combined, and no matter what you say it's not gonna change that fact," Roxas said, smirking.

"Oh, shut up!"

I burst out laughing. I couldn't help it. The sight of Ven chasing his younger twin around the backyard, brandishing his boomerang over his head like a mace and shouting at the top of his lungs, was so ridiculous that I couldn't hold it in.

"For the love of God, you two, shut up already. The neighbors might report us!"

My laughing immediately ceased and the twins froze in the middle of the yard. I turned to see that Sora was emerging from the back door, sliding it shut behind him. I noticed that a black suitcase was slung across his shoulder as he approached us, and I wasn't the only one who did.

Ven jogged over to him and hovered around him like an annoying shadow. "Is that what I think it is? You're giving them to him? Don't you think it's a bit too soon? If I were you, I'd wait a bit."

"So you can steal it again behind my back?" he said with a raised eyebrow. "Nice try, but these are going to someone much more deserving of them than you are. You can't even use them properly. Now back off. I'm always nervous around you holding that loopy stick."

Ven looked seriously stung. "It's a boomerang!" he countered indignantly. "Really, stop treating me like a kid already, I'm sixteen –"

Sora silenced him with a wave of his hand. " All right, all right, sheesh. Give it a rest. Just let me give these to him and we'll forget this ever happened, okay?"

So that was what Sora had been upset about the first day I was here. Ven had thought that it had been a great idea to sneak a peek at whatever was in that case, and Sora hadn't taken that so well.

"Sora, you sure he's ready for them?" Roxas asked, biting his lips skeptically. "I mean, aren't those the –"

"Yeah, they are." Sora said. "And have a little more faith, would you? This is Xaros we're talking about here."

Roxas's eyes were still doubtful as Sora stepped up to me and kneeled so that we were eye level, unslung the suitcase and set it in front of him.

"There were left to me from a…friend of mine for safekeeping," he explained as he undid the latches on the box carefully. "But he's not around anymore, so…I thought that you might be able to put them to good use. He wouldn't have wanted them to collect dust on a shelf going unused, you know? So I'm giving you these, and I hope that you can use them."

After what seemed like an eternity, Sora slowly lifted the lid. My heartbeat went into double-time when I saw what was inside.

In the case, nestled side by side in black velvet, were two polished butterfly swords.

There you have it, the first chapter! Argh, this took FOREVER to write, stupid Internet and its distraction capabilities…but anyway…

I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I apologize that these chapters will be slow in coming – they're much longer than I anticipated them to be! ^^; Thanks for your patience!