Your name is Meta-Knight, age 15, and you are the most feared street kid in all of Dreamland. You hate the name of the country, hate it because it's a bald faced lie, one that's used to hide the poverty and pain you live in. You are cold, strategic, and deadly.

You are Meta-Knight, and you are the surrogate father of a five year-old child.

He only got a name out of the boy. Kirby. He had light pink hair, with a dark pink sweater that had a bright yellow star on it. He wore candy cane color shorts, red shoes and pink socks, and had bright blue eyes that always shined. Meta-Knight almost found it laughable at how the boy contrasted his dark colored look. He himself wore a dark purple jacket that was like a cape in the back, with a pair of black pants and a blue shirt. He had silver gloves on to match a small silver mask around his yellow eyes, a white belt that held his sword, and black hair that he put in a low ponytail. His dark brown skin contrasted Kirby's, who was pale white.

He had found the boy walking around, entire hand stuffed in his mouth as he waddled down the street. The boy had seen him and run over, stopping once he reached him. He had told the boy to leave, not needing anyone to annoy him, but the boy had followed him everywhere. Meta-Knight had once seen two thugs trailing behind Kirby, and had growled them off. As much as Kirby irked him, he didn't need to see another innocent face get hurt.

There was too much of that these days.

Once Meta-Knight had reached his home, a small hovel with cardboard walls holding up a metal roof, he told the boy to leave again, and to his surprise, the boy did, disappearing into the busy crowds in the street.

If Meta-Knight had felt a pang of sadness then, he would deny it every time.

That night, he hears a knocking on his makeshift door, and groans, getting up to see who the hell would be up this time of night. When he opens the door, he nearly gasps. Kirby is there, covered in bruises, tears at the corners of his eyes, but a wide smile on his face as he holds up a plate of steaming hot food. Meta-Knight feels his mouth water at the smell, and he invites the boy in. Kirby has actually brought two plates, one for himself, and Meta-Knight wants to tear into his own, but can't. He sees every bruise, every gash Kirby has, and feels sick to his stomach. The kid was only about six, maybe younger, and he didn't even know him, and he got this for him, even at the cost of his own health? Kirby had noticed this, gotten up, and walked over to him. He looked to the full plate in front of Meta-Knight, which had a complete turkey on it. Meta-Knight was still marveling over the amount he had, but pushed it towards the younger boy. He frowned, poking at Meta-Knight's skinny body, which if you had pulled up his shirt, could see his ribs clearly. He took a turkey leg, ripping it off easily, and shoved it into Meta-Knight's mouth. Meta-Knight blinked chewing absently at the food in his mouth, and Kirby smiled, walking back to his own plate and digging in.

Though he doesn't know it at the time, that's how their friendship begins.

The next day, he doesn't tell Kirby to go away when the kid follows him, doesn't get angry when he bounces around from storefront to storefront, dragging him along, because Meta-Knight can still see the bruises, the black eye Kirby tried to hide with his pink bangs. He simply deals with it, and he wouldn't admit it, but it was kind of fun to see new things. He was usually too busy planning his day to look at the stuff in the market, so this is really the first time he'd seen the things there. Kirby stopped at a fresh vegetable stand, looking at the tomatoes with wide eyes. He poked the vendor, holding twenty-five cents in his hands.

A quarter. All Kirby had was a quarter.

Meta-Knight felt his heart constrict painfully at the thought. The vendor took the money, watching as Kirby pointed to the biggest tomato there. Meta-Knight walked up, prepared to pay with the small amount of money he had, because life was cruel, no matter what, and a quarter couldn't be enough, when the man smiled, nodding and handing over the tomato. Kirby smiled, giving the man a hug before skipping off. Meta-Knight gave the man a small nod in thanks before following the boy. Kirby looked up at Meta-Knight once he reached him, and split his tomato in half, holding up one piece for him to eat. Meta-Knight hadn't even noticed his hunger until then, stomach growling, and he took the piece, eating it with gusto.

It's then that Meta-Knight starts believing in the kindness of strangers.

They continue walking on, Meta-Knight checking to make sure no one is causing trouble. That's what he did for a living. He was known as Meta-Knight for a reason, after all. The streets were cruel, and Meta-Knight would search for any foul play, stopping it in an instant.

Sometimes he got paid, sometimes he didn't. He didn't care either way.

He heard a woman scream, and in an instant he was running, forgetting his was in charge of a small child, eyes focusing on the man with a knife moving in closer and closer to a rich looking woman. He didn't even take out a weapon, simply slammed his fist into the man's cheek, feeling satisfied as teeth popped out. Kirby walked up to him, pulling his cape, and Meta-Knight turned around to face him, ruffling his pink hair softly.

"Oh my god, thank you so much!" The lady screamed, running up to him. He simply nodded his head in reply. He wasn't much of a talker anyway. The lady started rummaging through her purse, and Meta-Knight waited for her to get out a one-to-five dollar bill. He usually didn't get much, if anything, but it was better than nothing. "Is he yours?" She asked, looking to Kirby, who is nibbling on his cape, though he doesn't mind. Meta-Knight nods, putting his arm around Kirby's shoulders for confirmation. Maybe to keep him close, maybe because he felt a sort of possessiveness stir inside him. She looked between the two of them, nodding absently, before handing him one bill, he doesn't look down to see the amount, before walking away, waving to them. He looks at the money, and his eyes widen at the fact that is wasn't a one-dollar bill, or even a five-dollar bill, but a crisp twenty-dollar bill. He nearly gaped at it, looking down at Kirby, who has started chasing after a butterfly.

He has never been one to talk, but this is the first time he's ever been speechless.

He walks over to a few friends of his, Sword and Blade. They had been common thugs before he stopped them, and owed him much. He buys a small hammer from them, deciding that he should give to Kirby for self defence. The kid doesn't look like one with the patience for knives, and he doesn't want the boy to hurt himself by accident. Sword asks if he wants a name engraved on it for free, they always wanting to repay him, and Meta-Knight suddenly realises he hasn't asked for the boys name. He does ask, and the kid gives him his widest smile, replying in the sweetest voice Meta-Knight has ever heard.

"Kirby!"

It's then that Meta-Knight learns how to smile.