Chapter 1

I do not own anything other than my original character(s) and my idea for this story's main direction.

Chapter One

The sun rose steadily and slowly from the east horizon, signifying a brand new day. Unfiltered sunlight poured in through the window and onto light-brown hair of a young lad, rousing him from his peaceful slumber.

Sun, sun, Mr. Golden Sun, please just go away, Takeru thought as he rolled his face into his pillow. He would've had a few more choice words for the aggravating light, if he knew what they even meant. His older brother had used them a few times before and whenever he was caught, he would say only he could get away with it because they weren't 'nice words' for little kids to be saying. What did that even mean?!

It was so weird for his brother to think that he was an adult when he wasn't that much older than Takeru at times. They couldn't have been that bad, right?

While he was busy cursing the sun but not really, he also wished that window of his still had curtains. Those had gone when Dad realized they made it easier to sleep in.

Not that it mattered anyway, because a hand or perhaps a foot began jostling him awake.

"Rise and shine, Takeru," commanded a voice, carrying the swagger and authority of an adult.

...and the timbre and pitch of a seventh-grader. So, naturally, Takeru ignored it, even when its owner began rattling him around.

"It's time for our morning exercises. Up 'n' at 'em!"

Takeru continued to persevere, even going as far as to shake off the offender and turn his body the other way with a grumble. The offender released a ominously calm breath.

"...Okay. Okay. If you wanna be that way, fine. I'll just go then."

Light footfalls could be heard as the offender walked further way. The low click of the door to his room was heard soon afterwards. Hushed inaudible murmurs could've been heard, could've not been heard, he didn't care.

Finally, he can be left to his nice, peaceful slumber. One point for Take-kun wait a sec…

That wasn't his room, Takeru thought as the sound of a fresh invader rushed in his direction, the fast padding of feet getting closer. His hand reached to his side table and groped and clawed for his glasses, but to no avail. Oh, no.

"Morning, Takeruuu!"

Fwump!

"PUUWAAHH!"

Precious oxygen fled his lungs as a slightly smaller body crashed down on him. The familiar giggle of an excitable girl pierced the post-crash haze.

"It's time to get up, silly!"

"Ugghhh… why… Inaho?" Takeru groaned, his lungs still not at capacity.

"Because Zane-nii said he needed help waking you up and said that this was the only way." She lightly tapped his head a few times with her tiny index finger. "You need to get up, Take-chan."

Oh, Inaho-chan, you're far too innocent, Takeru thought, almost mournful at the thought of such a sweet little girl being manipulated by the down-right evil machinations of his brother. He turned to look at her, seeing how her big brown eyes shone ten times stronger than the sunlight pouring through his window. His poor little seven-year-old heartstrings couldn't take it.

I gotta protect that innocence!

"You shouldn't listen to him."

"Huh?" Inaho tilted her head, puzzled. "Why can't I listen to him?"

His head fell back onto his pillow. "He's not as nice as you'd think…"

"Don't you go saying that!" The initial invader came back into Takeru's room as both he and Inaho turned to look back at him. "She was more than eager to volunteer on her own. So don't go painting me as the bad guy just because you want to be lazy."

There he was, standing there at the threshold of his door with a slightly peeved look on his face. He had already gotten mostly dressed as he was clad in nothing but simple black shorts and a white short sleeve shirt. His bandaged hands were currently grasping the small towel he had wrapped around his neck. His usual short, spiked, messy black hair was mostly combed back except for a cluster that fell in front of his forehead as a single small, spiky cowlick. Compared to Takeru himself, his skin tone was a few tones darker; an olive tone would be more accurate. His face was primarily the place with the most skin exposed, though that was because most of his other body parts were usually wrapped in thick bandages, particularly his chest, legs, and arms.

Whenever people saw them together, they never thought that they were actual brothers, for obvious reasons. Takeru couldn't blame them. They looked nothing alike and there was a reason for that. He and Zane weren't brothers, at least not by blood. Zane was an orphan that his mom found lying unconscious outside of an alleyway a year back, his body so battered and bloodied that she had to carry him to their house.

"Takeru! Zane! Inaho!" All three children turned their heads towards the hallway as from downstairs they heard the voice of Takeru's mother, Atsuma. "Come down and get yourselves some breakfast before we start your morning routines!"

"Sure thing, Mrs. Ooyam-!" Zane caught himself but it was too late.

"What have I been telling you about addressing me so formally, young man?!"

The instant response caused him to flinch a bit. "...To not to? I'm sorry, old habits die hard, Mom!"

"As long as you understand, dear!"

As her voice faded, Zane looked back towards his younger brother while Inaho skipped out of the room after giving both of them a smile before continuing down the hallway.

"Welp! You heard her, bro. Let's get goin'." He pushed himself from the doorframe and placed his hands behind his head, nonchalantly walking away.

Once he was out of sight, Takeru contemplated locking his door just to sleep some more.

"Seriously Takeru, I'm going to eat your portions if you don't hurry up."

That got him out of bed. Grabbing his glasses and putting on a pair of plain shorts, he rushed after his brother in a frustrated huff. "You'd better not!"

Body slams, sibling feuds, political intrigue, and all of it before breakfast. Just the average Sunday morning for the Ooyama family.

….

"Keep your hands up, Takeru. There should always be one arm ready to block whenever you throw a punch." Atsuma instructed as she watched over the children's' routines.

Takeru nodded and raised his fists a little higher before resuming his warm-up jabs. On his right, Inaho matched his pace with jabs of her own, constantly glancing back at him to see how he was doing. These opening exercises were pretty boring without something to hit, but as Takeru just learned, they were good for weeding out mistakes.

That didn't make him any less envious of Zane. The older boy had already blown through the piecemeal exercises of his own regimen and was now doing figure-eight kicks with a target dummy, balancing on one foot as he weaved the other one around the dummy's outstretched wooden arms. No one made him do all this boring prep work. No, he got straight into the kung fu fighting fancy-wavy stuff right away.

Takeru was always annoyed at that. He remembered the first time Zane tried to skip out on heating up his muscles before a session, and his mom had made a point of jumping him to show the merits of stretching out. Her plan didn't exactly work as Zane showed that stretches or no stretches, he had this annoying perk of not needing to warm up, of always being flexed and supple enough to throw down at a moment's notice. That didn't stop him from getting a ten-minute lesson in old school parenting after he made the mistake of taunting his instructor, but the fact he made it that long without cramping up or wearing out, at his age, was pretty nifty.

Takeru wished he had that perk, so he could escape this-

Whack!

"Ow! Mom!" Takeru whined, rubbing his head.

Atsuma raised the Paper Fan of Discipline from her son's noggin. "Don't you 'Ow, Mom' me," she chided playfully. "You and Inaho finish your exercises and then you can join Zane."

"All done with my jabs, Mrs. Ooyama!" said Inaho, raising her fist.

Takeru groaned. Now he was falling behind a dang girl.

"If you had kept your focus here and now," said Atsuma, using her evil Mom mind-reading powers on him, "you wouldn't have fallen behind."

"Faster, Takeru!" Inaho encouraged him, switching over to doing her side kicks. "Though I'm not gonna let you finish before me!" She flashed a challenging yet still good-natured smile his way.

He couldn't resist it in the end. He smiled back at the young girl. I can't stay mad at her.

"Hrraah!" Takeru glanced towards his brother once more, spotting him throwing in one final right cross into the wooden post. It gave a resounding crack! as his fist punched into the now splintered surface. He pulled his bandaged fist out of the indentation with a winced grin. He then shook his fist as he inhaled through his clenched teeth before unclenching his fist and exhaling.

If it wasn't for the fact that Takeru was directly paying attention to him, he might've missed what came out of Zane's mouth. As it was, he did hear him speak under his breath, something along the lines of "getting better at it" and "still fucking hurts though". He was lucky that Mom didn't catch that last part.

"Zane!" Atsuma called over to her other son. "Would you please refrain from damaging the equipment again?"

Sheepishly, Zane answered back, "Sorry! I just can't help myself sometimes."

"Sometimes?"

"...Okay, it happens a lot."

Takeshi, whom had been sitting off at the side, decided to chime in. "It's good to see you learning so quickly, Zane. But, I'll be honest..." He paused as he peered at the boy with a more critical eye. "That last strike was sloppy."

"Huuh?!" Takeru heard the surprised response from Zane. "What are you talking about, old man? I followed every motion exactly how you showed me." There was a hint of frustration in his voice. Takeshi walked up him and spoke to him some more, but the words were lost to Takeru.

He wasn't always the brightest when it came to reading others, but even he could tell that something was wrong with-

Whack!

"Ow! I'm sorry!" Takeru rubbed his noggin once again from the wrath of the paper fan.

"You need to stop getting distracted, Takeru." Atsuma stood in front of him, eyebrows arched in curiosity.

Takeshi's voice reached them again. "Let me see your arm, Zane." Atsuma peered over towards her husband as their conversation peaked again.

"Why? It's fine, look."

Takeru and Inaho turned to watch the interaction as well. Zane had brought his bandaged right arm into view. He twisted it around, showing the older man every side of the wrapped limb.

Having a better look, Takeru definitely saw what was wrong now, from how slowly Zane's first three fingers were uncurling from a fist.

"See? Totally fine!" Zane said with an obviously strained smile.

Takeshi arched a brow, clearly skeptical, "Uh-huh. So you wouldn't mind if I did… this!" In a flash of movement he lightly flicked a single finger against the boy's wrist.

Zane cried out and clutched his wrist, then quickly let go and winced in further pain.

Takeshi confirmed it, "Like I said, sloppy." He sighed a bit to himself as he kneeled down and placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, bringing his attention back on the parent as he cradled his arm, "You may have a lot of potential, Zane, but you're still lacking discipline and restraint."

Zane appeared quizzical, "Restraint?" he then frowned, "What's the point of holding back if the main objective of a fight is to win?"

"True. Winning is important when you fight, but, one should first learn not to lose themselves in it. Otherwise," he gestured to Zane's cradled arm, along with the rest of his bandaged limbs, "they'll stop caring about hurting themselves in the process."

"I broke the dummy, didn't I?"

Takeshi nodded. "Also true. But one day, you might take this sloppy form of yours and punch something that's as stubborn as you are." He shook Zane's tenderized hand, causing the boy to whine in protest. "That kind of mistake will cost you more than a hurt wrist and some jammed fingers."

Takeru kept watching as he said, "Mom, is that what happens if I don't punch right? You know, keep the wrist strong and the fist angled?"

He heard a sigh, the kind of sigh his mom made whenever she'd been trying to get through to him, then heard her whispering something. To Inaho. He turned to them, wondering what kind of girl stuff they were talking about.

"WAH!" Takeru ducked as Inaho came flying at him with an outstretched fist rocketing towards his face. He stumbled back and evaded the follow-up kick, but Inaho stayed on him like a clingy spouse.

"Spar with me, Takeru!" she said, spinning another kick at his head.

"Find out for yourself," his mom called as Inaho forced him to give ground, "and stay focused next time! Inaho's got enough energy for the both of you."

He could see that! Blocking a jab, he thrust a palm out and caught Inaho in the right shoulder. However, he had the unfortunate timing of landing it right as Inaho threw a left hook, which only added to her momentum, meaning Inaho couldn't pull her punch in time.

Pow!

"Oh my gosh! Takeru, I'm so sorry!" Inaho apologized profusely as he laid on his back, holding his bruised cheek.

It hurt so much! Tears of pain threatened to fall from his eyes, but he gave her a shaky thumbs up. It was mostly an attempt to keep his pride intact.

"It-khh! Don't worry about me," he said, flashing her a ramshackle smile. "My head's as hard as a rock."

As the girl helped him up he looked towards his mom. "Can I stop for today?"

Atsuma shook her head lightly with a sigh. "Go ahead, dear. But, expect a longer session tomorrow to make up for your slacking today. Understand?"

"Yes, Mom!" By now he was already walking out of the dojo and into the house portion of the residence, though he did still hear his other family members talking before he went out of earshot.

"Alright. Since you've lost your initial partner, Inaho, we'll just have you return to normal exercises until Zane gets his hand fixed up."

"I don't want to spar with her, Mom," came Zane's reluctant response. "I think I'd rather do that boring meditation thing that Dad suggested I start doing."

"Krmf!" Atsuma released a restrained laugh. "Where did this come from? You're usually so eager to spar with one of us."

"Mmm… Let's just say she grabbed me the wrong way once and leave it at that."

Their voices faded out of Takeru's hearing range as he entered the kitchen to grab himself an ice pack from the fridge.

Being a small, family owned dojo that it was meant that their house was decently large. It was big enough to act as a normal-ish house while the other portion of it acted as the actual dojo. Convenient though it may be, it became a bit of a consistent routine to hear sounds of exertion and loud impacts of struck wooden dummies or sandbags late into some nights. The young boy assumed that it was just his restless older brother.

Zane did say once that he found it hard to sleep some nights. Takeru just thought that he didn't sleep because of nightmares or something. It would make perfect sense, given how insistent Zane was to not tell Takeru about it.

Taking a water bottle out of the fridge before closing it, he walked upstairs to his room to get changed out of his training gi. Taking a swig of the cold refreshment before placing the ice pack back on his cheek, he thought about how glad he was to get out of morning exercises and relax again. Though, Mom's not gonna take it easy on me during the next training session.

He grabbed his Game Boy Advance out from under his bed, checked to make sure Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Red Rescue Team was still slotted in, and started playing. He then laid back against his pillow with his game above him, the familiar iconic 'starting up' tone chiming as he flipped the 'on' switch.

But, for right now, he'll let himself relax for the rest of the day and let tomorrow's worries go to the tomorrow's him.

….

["...In other news, World Famous Physician, Dr. Akihito Nijou, has last been expected to be arriving in Hagi from the United States tomorrow evening. Expect heavy traffic on the main roads going towards the main airport. For those who want to get his autograph, it would be best to get there as early as possible to beat the morning rush!"]

Waking up from his short three-hour nap after playing his little game for a bit, Takeru came out of his room and went downstairs to veg out on the couch when he saw Zane, Inaho, and his father already sitting on the couch in front of the large television.

They have apparently been watching the news at the time. There was a groan that came out of Zane as he flopped back against the armrest, seeming depressed and exhausted.

"Uugghh… Looks like it's coming to that time again…" He mumbled as his head was tilted back far enough on the armrest to be staring at the wall upside down.

As Takeru took a seat between him and Inaho. The girl took that moment to flop herself across his lap, her stomach weighted down his legs and further into the cushion of the couch. He felt a hand ruffling his hair and he looked to his right side to his father smiling at him before addressing his angsty older brother.

"Well, you know how your current arrangements with the good doctor are. Plus, it's only a monthly examination, it's no too much of a pain."

"Yeah," Zane heaved another long-suffering sigh, "But they take sooo looong! I've already had enough of that weird 'hospital smell'."

"See?" Takeshi grinned, nudging the boy's leg. "You're so used to it you won't even smell it this time!"

The boy snorted, probably rolling his eyes as well. "You can only say that because you're not the one that has to go every month…"

"What was that, son?"

"...nothing, Dad."

"That's what I thought."

"One of these days, that snark of yours is gonna land you in world of hurt, Zane," Atsuma said as she walked in. Playfully flicking Zane in the forehead as she walked by, she sat down on the other side of her husband at the opposite end of the couch. She leaned her head against Takeshi's shoulder and released a content sigh.

He placed an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. "Dinner's almost ready, I take it?"

She looked up at him with a smile before looking back at the TV. "I have it simmering right now. It should be done within the next hour-and-a-half."

"Alright then." Takeshi looked towards the kids. "What do you kids want to watch in the meantime, hm?"

"Animal Planet!" came Inaho's excited response.

"Discovery Channel?" Takeru said, a little unsure about his own choice.

"Toonami," Zane said simply.

"No to that last one."

"Hah?!" Zane lurched up from his awkwardly slumped position against the armrest, looking towards Atsuma with a puzzled expression. "Why not?"

"Because I've seen some of the those cartoons you watch, young man." She answered back almost instantly. "Shows like those are just full of mindless violence that'll rot your brain."

"Exactly," Takeshi said, nodding in agreement as he began browsing the channels. "Oo! The Octagon! Classic Chuck Norris!"

"Takeshi, what did we just tell them?" Atsuma protested.

"This isn't mindless violence," Takeshi countered. "It's smooth, artful, technical fighting, executed by a black belt in seven different martial arts!"

He thrust his hand at the TV. "It's educational violence."

A snorted snicker came out of Zane. "You're such a goof at times, old man."

"Oi," Takeshi said pointedly, "I take that statement with pride, you know. No child likes a boring dad."

Atsuma placed a hand on her face in exasperation, though, she still had a small smile on her face. "You boys are gonna be the death of me, I swear."

She looked at Takeshi. "By the way, dear, it was only six."

"Hm?"

"Six black belt ranks, in karate, Tang Soo Do, Brazilian jiu jitsu, judo, taekwondo, and Chun Kuk Do," Atsuma said, looking back at the TV as she watched bright red paint explode from a diplomat's chest, courtesy of a gun-toting transvestite nanny. "Even then, he only achieved top status in the style he invented." She pointed a finger at the screen with a grimace. "Is it really okay for them to watch this?"

"Oh, it'll ease off on the gore as it goes." Takeshi kissed her on the forehead. "You're amazing, by the way."

Atsuma looped a hand around her husband's cheek. "I'm well aware."

Takeru's tongue hung from his open mouth; he looked ready to dry heave at any moment. Zane only shook his head.

"Careful, Takeru," his father said. "If a fly gets in there, you might choke and miss the movie."

"Or the rest of that kissy stuff," Takeru wheezed.

Atsuma left shortly after to check on dinner. While his adopted mother left, and his two siblings sat hypnotized before the boob tube, Zane recalled what his father had told him earlier today, about his strikes being sloppy. The thought kept nagging at him, frustrating him. What had he been doing wrong? Any amount of power to wreck a thick piece of wood had to be executed well, right? Crazy thought: maybe he'd find the answer in this smooth, artful, technical display of educational violence his father seemed so high about.

It was around the time when Chuck Norris wildly waved a sword at his kama-wielding half-brother that Zane had his epiphany.

"This movie is trash!" he declared, standing up off the couch.

Takeshi watched him storm towards the kitchen. "But at least it's not garbage!" he called.

"Seriously, Dad?" Zane glowered at him. "That's an hour and a half I'm never getting back."

Inaho spoke up, eyes still glued to the screen. "This movie's funny!"

"See?" Takeshi pointed out, patting the girl's head. "Little Ina-chan likes it."

"That doesn't count," Zane said with a half-lidded gaze. "Inaho thinks that a lot of things are funny."

"Dinner's ready!" Atsuma called from the kitchen.

"Just in time," Takeshi grunted, leaning himself off the couch and up to his feet. He fixed his gaze on the TV as the evil half-brother rushed Norris from behind with his twin kama.

The lady of the film gasped, as did Inaho. "Oh no!"

"Give it a second," Takeshi said with a grin. In a moment pregnant with peril, the hero and villain separated, but when it passed, only the hero remained on his feet. The villain sank to the ground, the camera zoomed out, and the credits started to roll.

Takeshi looked to his son. "You catch Seikura's fatal mistake?"

Zane scoffed and entered the kitchen, leaving his father to shake his head. "Guess not."

"Whatever." Zane waved him off, "We're watching Who Framed Roger Rabbit next time. Your choice in movies is just bad, Dad."

"Who Framed Roger Rabbit?" He raised his brow at Zane suggestively, "And what reason would you want to watch that movie, specifically?"

The boy quickly turned away from him. "I just like it."

As Takeru sat next to Zane at the kitchen table, he could see a slight redness enter the cheeks of his brother's face.

Confused, Takeru looked towards his dad for some sort of confirmation, "I don't get it."

Before Takeshi could answer, Atsuma slapped her hand over his mouth. "You'll understand when you're older, dear." She threw a quick glare at the man, only for him to throw arms up in half-hearted surrender.

Takeru folded his arms and pouted. He was starting to get sick of his parents always treating him like a baby. He was 7 years old, for crying out loud!

It was then that an array of smells assaulted his nose. The matron of the house had set the family's meal down on the table. It looked soo goood!

A few bowls of pure white, steamy, puffy rice along with the thin, tender slices of beef and chicken. Not to mention the thick strings of lo mein noodles!

The vegetables looked… alright.

Ugh, peas… I hate peas. Takeru subtly (well, as subtle as a 7 year old can be) flicked the little green pests off of his plate to preserve the purity of his meal. His young eyes veered over the rest of his family, seeing his mom and dad conversate with Inaho about something he didn't much pay attention to. Then there was his older brother.

He seemed to be deep in thought about something as he idly dipped his chopsticks into his food, all while staring off into space with his chin resting against his other hand and a distant, focused look in his eyes. He didn't even seem to taste it, bringing it to his mouth with the same enthusiasm he had for working a calculator.

Takeru went back to eating his food soon enough, without further complaint (since he already took care of the little green abominations). Whatever it was that was on the other boy's mind, he was sure it would solve itself eventually, right?

….

Night had long since descended upon the town of Hagi, so most denizens had long since gone to sleep. The only ones that could still be awake at this ungodly hour were the ones that slept during the day and worked through the night.

Takeru's eyes peeled open slightly as his own body forced him awake for one singular, pesky need.

...Thirsty… Since his brain was only running on three hours of sleep, his movements and thought processes were sluggish. Sliding out of bed with the grace of an obese walrus, he would've fallen on his face if his memory of gravity hadn't kicked in and so had him laying on his legs, stomach, and forearms. He was glad that it was soft carpet instead of hardwood.

Taking a few seconds to orientate himself and grab his glasses off the nightstand, he waddled his way through the darkened hallway and down the stairs towards his ultimate destination: the kitchen.

After taking a nice, cool, refreshing drink of ice-cold water Takeru went to refill his cup from the tap when he heard a repeated, muffled thumping noises coming from from the far wall.

Investigating further, he went up to it and pressed his ear against the surface. The thumping continued on the other side.

What is that? Oh, yeah… With a tired mind Takeru almost forgot that the family dojo was on the other side of the wall he was leaning against.

Who could be up this late in the night? Mom wouldn't want anyone to be up this late unless it was her or Dad.

Moving towards the sliding door that connected their home to the dojo and passing through the area where they would leave their outdoor shoes, he suddenly heard a loud Slam! Crack! which was immediately followed by a Thud! and a pained shout of, "FUCK!"

Takeru knew that voice. With a little more haste in his walk, he opened the final sliding door to the main hall. His eyes bored into the lone, prone figure in the center of the room. A heavily damaged wooden dummy lay in front of him.

"What are you still doing up, Nii-san?" Takeru's tired eyes glazed over the mess of wooden shrapnel that (most likely) came from the broken and twisted wooden post. Upon closer inspection, he could see that small splotches of blood stained the sweat-soaked bandages on his arms and legs.

Apparently, Zane had also been training in nothing but his shorts, because Takeru could see some of the bandages wrapped around his torso were beginning to fall off. He sat on his knees, hunched over as he clutched his right wrist. Just like earlier in the day, the fingers struggled to curl back into a proper fist.

It also appeared to Takeru that his first words were not heard since Zane didn't seem to acknowledge his presence. He continued to huff with frustration and exhaustion until he suddenly slammed his other fist against the floor, the wooden boards rattled slightly from the impact.

"THIS IS STUPID!" Zane yelled. The amount of raw venom in his voice was enough to startle Takeru out of his drowsy state. The tanned firecracker continued to glare harshly at the broken wood scattered across the floor in front of him before turning his angry eyes to his busted, bloody hand. "No matter what I do, it all always ends up the same way! Damn it!"

He shut his eyes tightly as a glimpse of tears threatened to fall. "Why do you give such worthless advice, Dad?"

His last words almost didn't reach Takeru's ears if it wasn't for the fact that the room was mostly empty.

"Mom's going to be so mad when she finds out you broke one of the practice dummies."

Like a cracked whip, Zane's head turned towards Takeru with wide eyes. In a rush, he stood up on his battered legs, stumbling a bit in the process. Using his good arm, he went to wipe his eyes in an attempt to hide his frustrated tears. "Wha… what're you still doing up, Takeru? It's hard enough trying to get you up in the morning as it is."

Takeru shrugged, saying simply, "I was thirsty."

"Oh, well..." Zane trailed off, unsure of what to say while scratching the back of his scalp with his good hand. "You should go back to bed."

"But… what're you doing up, yourself?"

"Don't worry about it, Takeru." He waved his little brother off, sighing, "You wouldn't understand."

Takeru's lips scrunched up into a childish pout. "It's really annoying how everyone keeps telling me that. I'm not stupid, I want to understand."

Zane shook his head. "You're… ughh… too young. That's it." His finger rose as if clarity struck him. "Too young to understand."

The younger sibling frowned at his brother. "But you're older than me and you don't seem to get it, either. Plus, you need to rest." Takeru gestured to Zane's battered body. "It's why you're so grumpy now, right?"

"Uh…" Zane was so taken back by the rebuttal that he couldn't really respond. All he did was growl and grumble before letting out a resigned sigh. Honestly, he was far too exhausted to argue at such an ungodly hour.

Plus, his own frustration had already left him mentally spent. He was going to say something stupid if this kept up.

So Zane conceded, "Alright, alright." He rubbed his throat as he just now began feeling how dry and scratchy it was. Just how dehydrated had he let himself become?

"Here." Takeru offered the glass of water that he still had. He was still pouting though.

After a few moments, Zane's lips tweaked a bit into a small smile. You're good by me, Takeru. Several refreshing gulps later, Zane placed his hand on Takeru's head, ruffling his brown hair before handing back the glass.

"Thanks for that, little brother. Let's get back to bed, yeah?" he said, before ushering Takeru out of the dojo.

Takeru couldn't help but turn his head back to the mangled wreck and scattering of wood chips that used to be a practice dummy.

"Mom's going to flip when she sees that."

Zane shrugged. "Eh, I'll clean it up before she wakes up. It'll be like nothing ever happened." He was far too tired to deal with it right now anyway; he'd bite the bullet if it came.

And boy did it ever.

….

...

AN: Whew! First chapter COMPLETE overhaul complete!

If it wasn't for Ikrani and his critical and insightful reviews, I wouldn't have figured out what was crucially wrong with my original story. I knew something was wrong with it, it's just that I couldn't figure out what it was exactly. As a creator, you'll always need outside input, otherwise, you'll never be truly satisfied with the outcome.

I can safely say that under Ikrani's tutelage, I'll be truly satisfied with what comes out. I also recommend that you read his other works, Sekirei: Fear of the Dark and In the Footprints of Father Time.

The man is a literary madman* when it comes to storytelling and character development. He knows his stuff. I deeply appreciate his help and the fact he was able to put up with my sluggish pace..

*Beta note: And let NO LIVING MORTAL FORGET IT!

Until next time.