Ghirahim felt elated. Finally! Finally he had found someone he recognized! Well, recognition wasn't exactly the right word for this. Her face was unfamiliar to him, like all others he had seen. But at the same time, there was an insistent tug in his mind that told him, without a doubt, the two of them were related.

Her expression seemed to cloud over for a moment as she floated slightly away from him. She seemed lost, for lack of a better word. Like him, in a way. But maybe just a little less loud.

"You are, are you not? YOu're my sister."

"This was not a factor in my calculations," his sister (he has a sister! He remembers his sister!) said. Her voice held a tone that was challenging to identify, but impossible to ignore. A sort of vital weight that made you drop everything you were doing to listen.

Ghirahim isn't sure what she meant by that statement, so he decided to let it hang until she chose to elaborate. "I have forgotten so much," he tells her. He doesn't know how aware his sister was while she was inside the sword (how does that even work?) So, he thought it would be best to fill her in. "I don't know how it happened, but I seem to have forgotten everything about myself. I even forgot about… you. How could I do that? How could I forget about you, my own sister?"

"My data concerning you is limited," his sister replies. Her voice seems to be slowly returning to its normal rhythm now.

Ghirahim sighs, leaning more heavily against the wall. "I understand what you're attempting to do, sister. But that doesn't make me feel any better. We're siblings. Siblings are meant to know about each other, be present in each other's lives."

"You have been present for approximately thirty percent of my existence."

"What? What? A measly thirty percent? Ugh!" He slams his face into his hands as the shame roles over him like the incoming tide. What was his pre-amnesia self doing, that caused him to spend so much time away from his beautiful little sister? He'd better have a damn good reason to stay away. For her safety, perhaps? Yes! Maybe that was it; he was off protecting her! That idea made him feel a little better, so he peeked out of his hands at his sister. She had drifted slightly closer to him, her gaze intense. "Ghirahim?"

"Y-yes?" He replies, pushing his bangs away from his eyes.

"I am a sword."

Ghirahim froze. Out of all the things he expected her to say, that wasn't one of them. "Yes," he replies, motioning to the blade she haled from for emphasis. "I can see that."

"Swords cannot have siblings."

A pang shot through Ghirahim's heart. Was this his sister's way of disowning him? Was she that upset about being forgotten, or had he done something truly terrible to her in the past that he is unable to remember? He couldn't see himself doing that. He may not remember much, but Ghirahim knew he would never intentionally harm his own.

He's about to speak, to beg for forgiveness, but then his sister speaks again. "It is evident that my words have caused you distress. I apologize. I have difficulty understanding emotions. That is why we clash. You are an emotionally driven being. I rely solely on logic."

Ghirahim didn't think that was true. Yes, his sister did seem to be rather stoic, with an unusual manner of speaking. But that didn't mean she was an emotionless automaton. If you were paying attention, like ghirahim was, you would notice that her formal and robotic speech pattern had genuine warmth in its depths. Why, right now, his sister was offering him comfort.

I don't deserve her, he found himself thinking. I have clearly done wrong by her. And yet, she still… I will have to make it up to her! Whatever happened in the past, I must make it right. Because…

"I will now approach this situation at another angle," his sister says. "Please explain the logic that brought you to the conclusion that we are 'siblings.'"

"Well," ghirahim began, with a sweeping gesture through the air for good measure. Then, he stopped short. How did he know? "I-I simply have a feeling, in my hart. A sense of connection. Surely, you must feel it as well?"

"Please explain the logic that brought you to the conclusion that we are 'siblings." She repeated.

"Well… we look alike! Of course, we look alike!" He motions to a diamond-shaped hole in his glove, then to the blue gem on her chest. "Diamonds~"

"That logic is quite flawed," she insists. "Your diamonds are currently on your clothing. Mine is a part of my form."

"Well, if you insist on being picky… wait! You said 'currently!' That must mean—"

Ghirahim never got to finish that sentence. A very loud and familiar shout got his attention, and he whirled around, cape billowing, just in time to see a muscular boy with the oddest hairdo he had ever seen (or at least remembered seeing) running towards him. "YOU!"

"Yes?" Ghirahim asks, keeping his voice level despite the other boy's volume. Now that he had gotten closer, Ghirahim could taste that this was, in fact, the same person who had assaulted the bathroom door last night.

"What are you doing here?" The boy demanded. His voice was full of indignation, but there was also a quiver of fear there.

Ghirahim opens his mouth to try to apologize, or at least say something to defuse this situation. Unfortunately, his mind is still catching up on this sudden turn of events, and instead what comes out is: "How… does that happen?" Referring to the boy's hair. He genuinely has no idea how one gets hair to look like that. He just wishes his mind wouldn't cling to something so irrelevant in this particular situation.

Fortunately, the angry teen thoroughly ignores his goof, or just doesn't hear it because of how caught up in his rage he is. "So terrorizing the Surface wasn't enough for you, huh? Now you gotta come here, and ruin our lives even more? How did you even get here!?"

Ghirahim winces slightly, anxiously tracing a hole in his glove with a fingertip. He takes a few small steps so he is now between this boy and his sister, who was watching this exchange with a look of calm curiosity.

"It's not my intention to—"

"Lies!" Wow, this boy is intent on not allowing him to speak, isn't he? How rude. "I saw you! I know what you did, you demon! And now you think you can just walk right in here like you own the place? Well—" He raises his fists in front of him, which would have been a lot more intimidating if they weren't shaking. "Not on my watch! If you even think about hurting anybody here, then I'll—"

"You'll what, soil yourself again?" Ghirahim didn't mean to say that out loud. It was meant to be nothing more than a snarky little thought to himself. If this boy had been wronged by him in the past, he had a right to be upset by that. But the name-calling was just uncalled-for, and his frustration about it caused him to be more loose-lipped than usual.

Instantly, the boy's face was turning even redder than his hair, and he was reduced to nearly incoherent spluttering. "I-you—how did you—shut up!"

"You want me to 'shut up?' You were the one who started this, by showing up out of nowhere and yelling at me."

"I'M NOT YELLING!" The boy yelled.

"Yes, you are. In fact, you are making quite the scene!"

The boy scoffs. "Oh, look who's talking, Mr. Drama Queen!"

Then it's Ghirahim's turn to scoff. "I'm a drama queen? From what I recall, I wasn't the one running away screaming last night because I was late for my potty break. And also? If I did make a scene, it would be an art form! You just look like a madman." Then he flips his hair for good measure.

Truthfully, Ghirahim's not sure what got into him in this moment. He knows he really should be trying to be the bigger person here. But something about this boy pushes his buttons in a way that makes it irrasistable to tease him.

But the odd thing is, this strategy seems to actually be paying off. Now the boy just looks annoyed, instead of the rage and fear than before. So that eswages his conscience quite a bit, and he allows himself to enjoy it.

"Ugh, just, stay away from Zelda!"

"that won't be hard, considering the fact she seems to be actively avoiding me."

"Well gee, I wonder why?"

"Mmm, you know you seem awfully preoccupied with who the Spirit Maiden associates herself with. Does she mean something to you~?"

"I—" And, the boy is blushing again. Delicious.