Sound slowly filtered into the boy's consciousness.

"...talented, although he might try to kill you when he wakes up." A man's voice.

"And you waited to tell me until now? Can he even read? No, wait, can he even speak?" Another man.

"Probably? The cleanup crew found this cloth with names on it, along with a decent amount of money. There was a flat box full of sand with different handwriting in the other room as well, probably for practice." The first man.

The boy opened his eyes, and immediately received a raging headache from the bright light filtering into the room. He had never seen so much light in his recent memory, and the suns filtering into the apartment was from a small hole that was blocked with wood when it rained. He closed his eyes while holding his head with both hands.

"Hey, he's awake. No, put that thing away, that last thing we want to do is scare him after that mental scarring." The first man again; he sounded alarmed.

The boy opened his eyes again, slowly. The pain from the headache throbbed as the light pierced into his eyes. The sun was an enemy, the boy decided.

The first thing he saw was his mother's handwriting, on the piece of cloth. The bottom edge was crusted with something dark.

"Hey, do you have a name?" The boy looked up and saw two men, one was the person who had blasted him with wind, and the other was younger, with hair on his chin.

"No," the boy said, wondering why he was so sure it was the man that used the wind and the woman who had used the light beams.

"Then pick one from this cloth, the woman...your mother, was probably planning on giving you one of these."

The boy brought the cloth closer to his face with a shaking hand. The smell of blood lingered, as well as perfume, lingered on it. His eyes moved to the name in the bottom right corner, barely visible beneath the dried blood.

"This one."

"Right then, from today onward, your name will be Kynos. Geez, the brat chose something unreasonably cool, why the hell did I have to get Steve? The luxury of choice is too much."

"Kai-nous," the boy said, and looked up from the cloth.

"Yup, and I'm Steve," the older man said, pointing to himself. "This idiot over here is Lucy."

The boy closed his eyes and burned his own name into his memory, as Lucy complained loudly that his name was Lucidien von something or the other.