Acquaintances: Often turn up where you least expect them

Although Takeshi and William were happier than either of them had ever been, occasionally William would fall into a pensive mood, and Takeshi would find him staring out of the kitchen window or looking up at the branches of trees. At first he said nothing, not wishing to interfere with these episodes, but eventually he felt it was a duty of care to find out their cause.

One afternoon while William sat at the window, Takeshi followed him into the kitchen and made them both a cup of tea. Slipping into the seat next to him, he offered the cup to William, who accepted it without looking at him or saying a word.

"William," He said, gently, "What is it that's bothering you? I know there must be something."

For a moment William did not speak, as if there was a delay in his hearing. Then, slowly, as if he was just waking up, he looked round at Takeshi and gave him a tired smile. "Oh, I'm just thinking." He said.

"What about? You look so troubled..." Takeshi pressed.

"You know... all those things with the crows, all the attacks and the incidents that got me in trouble..." William sighed. "I feel uneasy. Nothing has happened since I moved in here. It seems as though they are waiting for something."

"... Waiting? The crows?" Takeshi asked, with a fair amount of skepticism. "Maybe they've just decided to leave you alone."

"No, I can't help but think that... it isn't over." William said, looking back out of the window with a frown. "See, there, in that tree. He's watching me."

Takeshi peered out of the window at the crow - which was, in fact, building a nest - and then looked back at William, more worried now. He excused himself for a moment, and when he returned he had the look of a determined man.

"William, listen to me." He said firmly. "We're going to go to a hotel. There's someone who can help you with all this, so I'd like you to meet him."

"Who is it?" William asked, dubiously.

"It's my cousin." Takeshi said briefly, gathering up his car keys. "Come on, he'll be waiting for us."

"Why can't we meet here?" William asked curiously. 

"Stop asking so many questions." Takeshi said quickly, and led the way to the car.

It was about an hour's drive to the hotel, and when they arrived they checked in under the name "Niro". William trailed after Takeshi to the room, with mixed feelings about this meeting and whether or not it was a good idea. The room was number 2510; a number William might have found significant, had he paid attention.

They had been sat in the room for only ten minutes when a knock came at the door. Takeshi walked around the corner of the lounge area and into the corridor to answer it, and William was by himself for a brief moment, during which an irrational sense of foreboding came over him.

"William? I'd like you to meet my cousin." Takeshi said, his hand on the shoulder of the man next to him. "His name is Mike Kevinson."

Waking: Sometimes a good thing, sometimes not

William dimly became aware, some time later, that he was awake again; and the next thing he noticed was a terrible stabbing pain in his cheek. Putting up a shaking hand, he found that it was bleeding heavily and was really quite deep. There were some black feathers lying in the street, and he realised he had been attacked by some sort of rabid bird. An uneasy flash of reminiscence took him back to the boarding school and the black feathers in the bully's room; but he pushed it from his mind.

Staggering to his feet, he wiped his face on his sleeve and was disgusted to see a smear of blood there. Great, he thought. Now my shirt is ruined. He swayed a little, not really feeling in the best of shapes. He must have hit his head when he fell.

He put his hands in his pockets, trying to think, and felt a piece of paper in one of them. Automatically he pulled it out to see what it was, and recognised it as the business card Takeshi Niro had given to him. He sat down again on the doorstep he had fallen onto (it was deserted out here, probably why no one had helped him), and fished his mobile phone out of the other pocket. He punched in the number written on the card and waited for the call to connect.

"... Moshi moshi?" That was Takeshi's voice, all right.

"Hi, Takeshi? It's me, William."

"Oh! Aren't you supposed to wait a few days before calling?" Takeshi asked playfully.

"No, it's... I'm not ringing you for a date, exactly. Um. Are you at home?"

"I am now, I just got back from work."

"Do you have medical supplies?"

"... Yes."

"Right. I'll see you in twenty minutes?"

"... Well, alright... Are you in trouble?"

"I'll see you."

William ended the call and gathered up his shopping bags. He caught his reflection in a mirror across the street and sighed, ruefully. This would definitely scar.

When he arrived at Takeshi's house the door opened for him; it seemed Takeshi had been watching for his arrival from the window. As soon as he saw William's face he cursed in Japanese and went to fetch bandages and warm water, knowing exactly how to look after wounds, having suffered a few himself from years of sporting games at school. As he saw to the cut William told him everything: how the crow had attacked him, and the bully, how it seemed he could never avoid the black feathers, how he was all alone in the world.

"Listen, William." Takeshi said when he was finished, looking him seriously in the eye. "You seem to be in need of some help. I want you to stay here for a while."

Wordlessly, William nodded; and that was how their relationship began.

Drinks: Often Lead To Other Things

William decided that his slough of despondancy was, once and for all, over. What would Chichang say if he saw his friend like this? No, it was time to have some fun. He resolutely left the tiny room he was staying in that evening and went out into the nightclub district.

Everything was so confusing! The lights, the colours, the signs... He found himself a little excited. He didn't know quite where to turn, everything was so new and different. He decided to stop wasting time and just go into the first nightblub he came to. There was no name, but only a neon pink flamingo above the door. He thought it looked quite interesting, as a matter of fact, and so he went in immediately and went to the bar.

It was quite a nice atmosphere inside; the music wasn't too loud and, bizarrely, there were what seemed to be several sailors gathered in one corner. It was mostly full of men, as well; even the bar staff were all men.

"How pleasant." William thought to himself. "A nice little place for a man to come and drink."

He waited for the barman (who called him 'darling' - how strange!) and ordered a simple Coke, not wanting to be too extravagant all at once.

He heard something over the speakers - it was a song he recognised, from quite a few years ago but still good all the same. He tried to listen over the sound of people talking. What were the lyrics, again? So you go, and you stand on your own... Well, he certainly didn't want that to happen; and yet he couldn't help feeling a little shy. These were real Japanese people, not just his teachers from China, and he didn't know how good his Japanese accent was or if he could really be understood. Aside from akk that, he didn't know anyone at all! It was quite... frightening, in a way.

After he had been there for a while, still nursing the same Coke, he dared to look around at the other patrons. Some of them were dressed in rather odd manners, but he put it aside as just being a Japanese thing, since some others were also wearing suits or normal clothes. There was one in particular, a suit man, who was sitting just a few empty barstools away and who met William's eyes when he looked over. William smiled and nodded after a second, and, taking this as an invitation to talk, the other man moved over the intervening barstools to sit next to him.

"Hi." He said. "My name's Takeshi Niro."

"Hi." William replied. "Er, I'm William."

"That's not very Chinese." Takeshi said, recognising of course his accent. "You are Chinese?"

"Yes, I am." William said. "And no, it's not."

At this point, William suddenly realised that Takeshi was in fact a very handsome man, and he was very snappily dressed. Also, he wasn't afraid to flash the cash, immediately offering to buy William an exotic-sounding cocktail.

And that was that. Takeshi Niro, it turned out, was very charming, and full of funny little sayings that made William laugh. And he really liked The Smiths, and kept making jokes about their song that had William's name in it. He had a twinkle in his eye and really nice hair, and he kept touching William's arm, which he didn't mind at all. William couldn't really say exactly how it happened, or indeed what happened, but he found himself a few hours later in the flat belonging to Takeshi Niro. It was spacious and well-decorated, the kind owned only by the wealthy. It was littered with half-empty wine glasses... and scattered, discarded clothing. And, William dimly realised, some of that clothing was his own.

"Well." He thought to himself, "That was certainly an interesing evening."

Decisions: They come on us suddenly

Poor, poor William. It seemed to him as if his life truly could not get any worse. Why didn't Sisi love him? Why was Chichang dead? Where the hell was Mike Kevinson? It all went round in his head, to the point where he began to feel nauseous. He decided that a bit of fresh air was in order, and left his house, going out into the streets. He walked for a long time; he knew not where.

After quite some time had passed, he found himself still feeling utterly dreadful, and sat down on a bench. He had just that day recieved a report from his tutor on how his grades were doing, and had been devasted. He wasn't even getting an E in this year's work. It seemed the past two years had been totally pointless. What did he have to show for them? No girlfriend, no friend, no grades, and certainly no Mike Kevinson. But, why should he look up to that man any more, anyway?! He was a fiend, a beast! He had stolen Sisi! And just what reason would a man such as he have for seducing a young woman anyway?!

William sighed. He could add "no one to look up to" to his list. He got up and started walking again, aimlessly. He wandered through the many streets of the town, at one point passing by a tramp by the side of the shops.

"Here, mate," The tramp called out softly, "Are you alright?"

Alarmed at being asked this by none other than a tramp, William paused to speak with him. "No, I'm not, to be honest with you. I'm in a slough of despondancy."

"A slough of despondancy, eh?" The tramp said, and shook his head. "I have no idea what that means, but you look like you could do with a hot drink. Here, have some change."

"Ah, no thank you." William answered. "Don't you usually collect change, rather than giving it out?"

"Yes, but you look like you need it more than me."

"Oh." William answered glumly, and, with his hands in his pockets, slouched away again, now feeling even worse than before.

Somehow his steps directed him in a circle, and he found himself back at the bench he had been sitting on before. It was still deserted and so he retook his place, falling into almost a stupor of misery.

Some time passed before William became aware of the crow that was perched just in front of him. It was looking at him with what could only be described as an intelligent stare. After William had been looking at it for a few moments, it dropped a twig on the floor and flew away.

Curious, William walked over to look at the twig. He suddenly realised that the square in front of him was designed to be a map of the world, laid out on the floor in brass plate set into concrete. It was very peculiar; but the crow had dropped his twig on Japan. William thought to himself for a moment.

"Mike Kevinson comes from Japan. I speak fluent Japanese. I'm not doing too well in China. I wonder..."

And just like that, without much preamble or warning, William had decided: he was going to quit university, sell his house, and move to Japan.

Relationships: Love Is All You Need

Unaware of Mike Kevinson's plight and subsequent lack of power, William had fallen into a slough of despondancy. He mourned Chichang for a long time. The Chinese History with Ornithology lectures were very lonely, and without a homework buddy William began to lose interest. It is all very well to never have a friend; but once you have had one you realise what it truly means to be alone. So it was that at the end of the year, his marks were falling terribly.

The previously welcome break of the summer holidays was tedious for him. He worked on his Japanese, for lack of any other option, even though it was mostly perfect already. He supposed, when in the mood to analyse himself, that studying Japanese reminded him of that shining light, Mike Kevinson. He wondered what Mike Kevinson had meant when he had mentioned his own bereavement. Who had Mike lost? A friend? A colleague? A parent? William could only guess. He had, of course, lost almost everyone he had ever known. And now there seemed to be another Kevinson-shaped vacancy in his life; where was he on holiday now? Bermuda?

William tried to put these futile thoughts from his mind, but only succeeded in making himself more miserable. "If Chichang were here," He said to himself, "He would know what to do."

However, time, as we have seen before, waits for nothing; not even grief. William had to return to that dreaded academy, where Chichang had spent his idle days painting instead of studying.

This year, he expected once again to be the only person on the course; but as fate would have it, there was one other university in the whole of China that held this particular course. And, as fate would have it, there was a girl at that other university who had decided to transfer to William's place. Imagine his surprise when he saw, not an empty lecture hall, but the face of someone who was not Chichang...!

It was most distressing for him; but once he got over his shock he realised that the girl in question was really quite pretty, and became flustered.

It took him a while; but every time his courage failed him he thought of Chichang, and how disappointed he would have been. That made things easier. And then, one day, he decided on a way to ask Sisi (for that was her name) out. He printed off a list of chat-up lines he found online, and learned them by heart.

"Hey, baby." He said to her at last, the words sounding very strange on the tongue of William Xiu, "If you were words on a page... you'd be what they call fine print."

Sisi, of course, burst out laughing; but rather than reject William, she found him quirky, and made up her mind at once to date him. This made William so very happy that for a moment he even forgot that Chichang was dead.

Crash: A Terrible Accident

William was certainly delighted with the way his life was going. Not only were his studies going extremely well (and it was already halfway through the year!) , but he had a great friend in Chichang, a good place to live, and lots to occupy his time. This, he thought, was really the way to live. Now he finally knew what he had been missing for all those years, as the other children enjoyed time together instead of studying.

Chichang really was a brilliant artist. One day he promised to paint William's portrait, and William agreed immediately. He had to sit for it for hours, because Chichang liked to paint from life instead of photographs, but in the end it was worth it. The portrait, when it was finished, was magnificent. Chichang portrayed William as a scholar from ancient China (he used their course textbook for inspiration), in traditional robes, with a bird perching on his shoulder and reading what he was writing on a scroll. The likeness was alarming.

William was so pleased that he hung it on his dorm room wall. Things were going great; until one day, Chichang appeared a little more pre-occupied than usual. He asked William if he would like to go for a ride in his car, since it was quite new, and William agreed, thinking it would be nice to see a bit of what was going on outside the university.

They set off very shortly, not needing to take much with them. As they went along, they started to chat about random things, and Chichang seemed to ease up a bit more.

"Do you think I'll ever be a famous artist, William?" He asked whimsically.

William glanced over at him. "Yeah, of course. All you have to do is sell a painting and that's it, everyone will want to buy your stuff when they see it."

"Hmm, I wish I was as optimistic as you." Chichang replied doubtfully. "I'd just really like to achieve my dreams, and I don't know if I can."

"Of course you can!" William mock-punched him on the shoulder (a habit he had picked up from Chichang himself). "You just have to believe in yourself. Isn't that what you're always saying to me?"

Chichang chuckled a bit. "Yes, I suppose you're right. As always."

"I'm glad you know it." William grinned. "So, what are we going to do this weekend?"

"I was thinking we should maybe go to a bar in town? We hardly ever do, and I've heard there's a really great new electro band playing there. They're called Future Artists, I'm sure you'll love them."

"Really?" Now it was William's turn to be doubtful, unfamiliar as he was with the modern music scene. "Well... I'll take your word for it. You know more about these things than I - Chichang - look out!!"

The reason for this outburst was that, as Chichang was looking at William, he had not noticed the flock of birds that had settled onto the road. It was near to the edge of the town, next to a grassy park, and they were searching for grain. Chichang slammed on the breaks, but it was too late; they hit at least three birds on the way through the flock, which had been disguising a large puddle of water just beyond. The puddle in turn was hiding a pothole in the road, and it was these three combined elements that resulted in the car spinning around and over. It landed heavily, upside-down, one wheel still spinning long after it had come to a rest.

Dazed and confused by the impact, William stirred slowly, feeling a few shallow cuts on his face from the shattered windscreen. He tugged at his seat belt, and it came off easily, landing him on what had been the roof of the car. He looked back at Chichang, and tried to pull on his sleeve, but Chichang made no reply. William noticed that there was blood on Chichang's temple, and a little trickle that had come from his mouth. Horrified, William checked for a pulse, but could not find one. He was too shocked even to cry. His whole body ached from his own injuries, and he was dizzy from flipping over, and everything seemed very strange and distressing. With a slight whimper, William fainted, and that was all he knew for a long time.

University: A First Time For Everything

Now, at the correct age and time, William began his foray into the world of higher education. Having spent a useful year working in the restaurant and saving up, he was able to afford his very own house as well as paying for university fees from his remaining inheritance money. The university was right there in Taiwan, and what's more, it did exactly the course that had caught his eye.

You see, William was not like other students. He found Maths boring, and Science dull. He didn't see the point in studying music or film, and he was already fluent in his two other languages; he didn't need a degree to tell him that. Instead he applied for a very under-subscribed course, and got in very easily with his excellent grades and spotless record.

He arrived on his first day at the correct lecture theatre, and took a seat in the middle of the room. He didn't want to sit at the back - too far away - or at the front - too nerdy - but the middle was just fine. However, he waited and waited and waited, but no one else showed up. He wondered if arriving fifteen minutes before the lecture was too early. Perhaps he had the wrong room; he checked, but no, it seemed he was in the right place.

He was just about to give up when something at last happened to give him hope: another student walked into the room. He was a good height, with clear eyes and stylish hair, and a long brown-and-grey striped scarf wrapped around his neck. Inexplicably, there was a pencil behind his ear. His shirt was orange. He looked around, quizzically, and since there was no one else, he took the seat next to William.


"Hello." He said.

William was astonished; he looked around for someone else he hadn't noticed or some sort of trick, but on further reflection it seemed the boy really was addressing him. "H... Hello..." He replied, hesitantly.

"You're here for the course, right? Chinese History with Ornithology."

"Yes, that's right." William agreed.

"I'm Chichang. Yilan." The boy said. "So, what's your name?"

"William."

"William? Not very Chinese, is it?"

"Yes, I know." William sighed.

This, believe it or not, was the beginning of a very beautiful and strong friendship. William had never had a friend before, so it was very exciting for him to finally have one. He and Chichang were the only people on the course, and their professor was quite nice, so they spent a lot of time together and had fun every day. They even went shopping together, although William was very careful to check his bag every time he left a shop, just in case he was arrested by Mike Kevinson again. However, these fears seemed to be ungrounded - since he had become friends with Chichang, Mike Kevinson had been nowhere to be seen. William wondered if he was getting in trouble less because Mike Kevinson was not there, or whether Mike Kevinson was not there because he was getting into trouble less. A truly mysterious question.

One day, during a particularly challenging assignment, William buried his head in his hands and let out a long groan, unsure of how he could finish it.


"Hey friend, what's up?" Chichang asked.


"Oh, it's just this work. I'm smart, but this is too hard." William said.


"Just perservere." Chichang said, clapping him on the shoulder. "You know, whenever I come up against something I can't beat, I just keep trying. Maybe I'll need help or maybe I'll have to start again, but I always keep trying until I beat it."


"Really? You've come up against a lot of hard times, then?" William asked.


"Well..." Chichang sighed. "Let me tell you about my life."

Eighteen: A Very Special Year

Once the trauma of the whole black feather incident was behind him, William joyously awoke one morning to discover that he was eighteen years old. He had already completed all of his exams, one year early, in the hope that he would be permitted to leave as soon as he was done; and done he was. He had scored full marks in both Chinese and Japanese, and his English grades were top scores; not to mention the fact that his other subjects all recieved the highest grade possible. His school years had been a success; not only that, but he had now come into his inheritance!



Unfortunately, thanks to his father's wilful ways with money and the last few months of illness, there wasn't really that much of an inheritance - everything of value had to be sold to pay off the debts that had accumulated, not to mention lawyer's fees, and after that all that was left was the house. Although it was a rather large, picturesque house, and the site of at least one good childhood memory, William soon discovered that it was impossible to live in such a grand house and pay all the bills without a job, car, or furniture of any great value. Thus it was he decided to sell the house, and move closer to Taiwan (for no greater reason than that he fancied a change of scenery).


So, young William, now a man for the first time, laid his plans: he would take a gap year, find a job (hopefully in a restaurant, since he liked the idea of serving), save up a lot, and then after that go to the local university. It was quite a good university, and the only one in China that could offer him his chosen subject - but more on that later.



Now that the financial matters were under way, William, having found the perfect house for himself, set out to find a job. He went around all the restaurants, cafes and general serveries of his new hometown, dropping off CVs like there was no tomorrow. Or rather a very long string of tomorrows, all of which needed paying for.



This done, he went home and patiently waited for several days, watching anime over the internet and rereading the entire Death Note saga. Eventually, just when he had decided to try again, the phone rang. Knowing that this could only be either a telemarketing call or an interview offer, he jumped to his feet and had the phone to his ear before the third ring.



"Hello? Mr... William Xu?" The voice at the other end of the phone asked, clearly reading his name from a sheet.



"Yes, that's me."



"Ah, hello. I'm calling from a local restaurant that you applied to for a full-time job, 乌鸦 (Wuya Foods). We would like to let you know that your application has been accepted, and if you could come in for an interview this next friday we would really like to speak to you."

"Ah! Thank you!" William replied, overcome with happiness. Now, for the very first time in his life, someone was giving him a chance.


When he got to the interview that friday, he was pleased to hear from the manager that they were a very strong business, and needed to take on extra staff to cope with the amount of customers they now recieved in the evenings. He showed himself to be willing and eager, and intelligent; but for William this was not enough. He had never been a popular boy and now was no exception. It seemed he was cursed; without being able to say why, the manager had an instinctive distrust of William and everything he said. All his references (old teachers, for the most part) seemed good, and his grades certainly spoke for themselves; but all the same, to the manager, employing William seemed somehow a bit of a risk...



"So, William," He said, to conclude the interview, "Is there anything else you'd like to bring to our attention? Something that qualifies you more than anyone else?"


"Yes, actually." William said smartly, having prepared himself for this question. I believe that, with the town being in such a central location, you have a great need for a translator."

"A translator?" The manager asked, unable to believe his ears.

"Yes." William responded solemnly. "You see, I am fluent in Chinese, Japanese, AND English. Now, if there are any customers from a different country, chances are I will be able to communicate with them better than any of your other staff."

"Hmm," Said the manager, "I think we should test your fluency before we take this any further."


"Alright." Said William. "Let's do it."


Several hours later, having spoken with people of many nationalites in and around the most popular tourist hotel, William was faced by a smiling manager, who had enjoyed these out-of-office japes.


"Good man!" Said the manager. "You're hired!"

From that moment, William was officially a man with employment.

On his first shift at the restaurant, he was serving, getting used to the routine, when someone at the back of the room caught his eye. Although the person was sat with his back to him, the dark hair and coat and the slight red glow of a cigarette caught William's attention. He approached the table, noticing that it was in his covers, and took out his notebook so that he could write down the order.

"Are you ready to order, Sir?"

"Yes." Mike Kevinson said. "I'll have a white wine to begin."

"Mike?!" William gasped. "What are you doing in Taiwan?"

"Working." Mike replied, off-handedly. "Just like you."

As he walked away, William could not help but think how strange it was that Mike Kevinson should show up in his first shift, at his new workplace, in his new hometown. But he quickly dismissed it, as Mike appeared to want nothing more than a glass of wine before he was on his way.

Fatality: William is Instantly Blamed

Five years passed; William traversed the rocky roads of puberty with little success. He kept out of trouble as much as he could. Although on occasion he was still hounded by bullies, Albert, his monobrowed nemesis, had developed a paralysing fear of black birds, and thus was stopped in his tracks many a time. Howeber, William was unable to permanently evade the grasp of his bullies, and often came a-cropper.

You see, by this age, William was really something of a nerd. Pokemon had become too uncool even for him, and so he buried himself in the digestion of manga of all origins and genres. He even read shounen ai, for want of other material. He also occupied himself in his study, and by the age of sixteen was indeed fluent in both Japanese and English, written and otherwise. Although of coure these skills were virtually useless, since no one would talk to him.

One day, February 2nd 2007 in fact, was what would later be engraved upon his mind as an unforgettable date. He was studying alone in the library, working hard so that he could complete all of his exams early and thus go to university. Albert, that monobrowed meanie, being quite a failure in the field of mathematics, had spent all of his lunch money on a dirty magazine and thus was now unable to purchase food for his ever-expanding stomach (a key feature of many diabolical bullies; but do not be fooled, at least part of this flab was really muscle in disguse). As a direct result of this, Albert went to the library, to seek out that moneybag known to all as William Xiu.

"Oi, William!" He called out provokingly, as an inefficient librarian flitted around trying to shush him. "How much money do you have today?"

Now, this really was an unfortunate situation. William, you see, had been saving up. He wanted to buy the Complete Edgar Allen Poe in English, but that was rather pricey in China, and import costs were not much better. He had been saving up for a while, eating as little as possible (the training of his infant years proved to be essential here), in order to afford it; and today he had finally gathered the correct amount. Today he intended to purchase that book.

"Just... the usual, Albert." William replied timidly, hoping that his lie was not too obvious.

"Give us your wallet, then." Albert retorted, and with a sigh of despair and a sinking feeling, William removed said object from his pocket. It clinked tellingly, and Albert smirked. He snatchd it out of William's hand and looked inside.

"Oh ho ho!" He said. "Oh ho ho! Just the usual? This will do very nicely."

And with that, he walked out of the library, leaving William sunk at the bottom of his hope, unable even to raise a shudder of disappointment. He had so been looking forward to that book.

Several hours later, William finally left the library, although he now saw no reason in hurrying anywhere; after all, the bookshop was out, and his route to his dormitory would take him straight past the very door of that most hated boy, Albert. Alas, being a friendless nerd he soon ran out of any other options, and had to turn his steps in that feared direction. Just as he was passing Albert's room he grew very tense, hoping that Albert or another of his cronies would not exit the room and see him there; but instead a shrill, loud shout burst through the air, making him jump almost out of his skin. He thought nothing of it however, and hurried on his way, wanting to be as far from Albert as possible.

Others had heard the scream, though, and they soon came running to find the source. After some knocking on the door, which was unanswered, one enterprising young lad saw fit to kick his way into the room. William had unfortunately been grabbed by one of Albert's friends as he tried to get away, and thus was forced to stand and watch. A horrified call beckoned the bystanders closer, including the one that still had hold of William; and so it was that he, too, saw the terrible sight of the corpse of Albert. His eyes were missing, his throat was a bloody mess, and his clothes were ripped all over. On the floor nearby lay a solitary black feather.

"IT WAS HIM!" The original explorer shouted in deathly tones, turning to point at William; and all those around him moved away, as if he might kill them where he stood. He swallowed nervously, becoming quite pale in the face, and attempted to shake his head in denial; but it was no good. They were quite certain as to who was responsible.

*

A matter of not many hours later, and a visitor arrived at the school. He greeted the headteacher, who immediately grew angry at said visitor's use of a cigarette. He had had a new no-smoking sign installed in his office, and as the visitor stood before him he tapped this sign pointedly.

"Baka," The visitor muttered; this, as I am sure our learned readers will know, being the Japanese word for 'idiot'. The visitor left the office, and headed for his destination.

William sat glumly in a study room, near the library. A knock at the door caused him to lift his head, and a wave of fear swept through him. Perhaps now he would be taken away.

"Hello? William Xiu?" A voice called out. "May I enter?"

Swallowing in trepidation, William stood and approached the door. Wondering briefly what would happen if he refused, he pushed this notion away and turned the handle. As the door swung inwards, he looked into a face he recognised well. The Japanese accent of a charming voice filled the room.

"Hello, William. You may remember me. My name is Inspector Mike Kevinson."

Bullies: One gets his comeuppance

November 5th, 1997

It was around this time that, in a turn of events that seemed at first to be fortuitous, William's father finally succumbed to a long and unavoidable illness.


"William," He said, lying on his deathbed; "What I have, you see, son, is cancer. Cancer of the lungs. Therefore I am sending you away to a boarding school, you know. It is called Chao Cheng, after the man who founded it, and you will stay there until you are at least eighteen years old."


With this utterance, he died. It was never revealed to William the cause of his cancer: too many nights spent in smoky strip joints, instead of looking after William.


Although William at first thought it quite a godsend that he would no longer have to attend the old school, he soon realised two awful things: one, that he would have to stay in the same place, unavoidably, for the next eleven years; and two, that Bessie, his only (unreliable) ally, would not be accompanying him, since it was a boarding school for boys.


After a short and solemn funeral, to which absolutely no one but William attended, the last of his things were packed up and he was sent away from his home, with the promise that at eighteen he might return and use it as his home once more.


On his arrival at Chao Cheng School, William immediately noticed that almost all of the boys there were richer and more agile and stronger than he was; putting two and two together, he deduced that perhaps he should keep his head quite firmly down, since he already had quite a lot of experience with this sort of boy. Unfortunately, Chao Cheng School was quite renowned as one of the best in the area, and after some disturbing reports of bullying the father of a certain other boy had decided to enroll him. And so it was that William, wandering the corridors in an aimless and lost sort of way, soon came face to face once more with the disturbing monobrow of his bully.


For quite some weeks, the bully stayed away from William, in order to increase his own popularity, and soon he had a little gang of friends. These bullies did not like William at all; in fact, not many people did - he was quite, quite friendless. Try as he might, no one would give him so much as a smile. He was forced instead to spend his time with Pokemon and their ilk, wasting hours evolving doduos into dotrios, spearows into fearows, pidgeys into pidgeottos. He could not even persuade his fellow players to trade so much as an ekans for his illegally-gained mew. To make matters worse, the bullies were waiting wherever he went, to push and shove and call him names.


William did not think there would be any way out of this; he even stopped praying for it to end. Until, that is, the events of November 15th, 1997. At seven years old he was already branded a nerd or a geek, playing too many video games, and spending all the rest of his time concentrating on study. It was at this point that a particularly disturbing incident occured.




"Got my money, William?" The monobrowed bully asked, a phrase which had become merely habitual to him. William handed it over without a word, and the bully quickly slapped him round the face for good measure before heading off, chortling, with his friends.


"Do you want to go get some sweets now?" One of his cohorts asked; but the bully shrugged.


"I think I'll go to my dorm for a bit." He replied casually. He was intending to eat the secret cake he had stolen earlier from the cooks, and did not want the others to know about this. They parted ways, as William watched them warily from some distance away.

The bully returned to his room, as he had promised; but things there were not well. On his bed, the once carefully-wrapped-in-a-towel cake was lying, open, half-consumed, with crumbs scattered every which way about. The bully's first thought was that someone had broken into the room and stolen some of his cake! At first he intended to complain to the headmaster, before he realised that he had in fact stolen it in the first place, and therefore had not a leg to stand on.

At this point, therefore, he began to look about him for evidence of the perpretrator. (Do not be fooled; our bully does not and never will understand the word "perpetrator". He simply thinks of several very rude words, which I will no repeat, for the sake of our gentle readers' eyes.) Thus it was that, eventually, he had no place to look or search but up, and so up was where he looked.

As soon as he did so, his cry of pain could be heard from all the way down the corridor.

Several people came running at once to the source of the noise: one teacher, to see what the matter was; one caretaker, who surmised he might have some cleaning to do, or some mopping of bodily fluid; and quite a few students, who were curious rather than worried. After a few moments, even William himself turned from his solitary walk through the corridors to join the ever-increasing flow of people.

"My eyes! It went for my eyes!!" The bully was crying, and indeed, when William approached the door he could see blood running from his forehead and cheeks.

"Probably pecking off that monobrow." Another student muttered, and his companion laughed; but they were soon shushed by one of the other teachers, who had recently arrived on the scene.

"What's this?" The first teacher asked, looking around the room. "All of these black feathers... he's telling the truth. It really was a crow that attacked him."

As the bully was taken away to the infirmery, he passed by William, and gave him such a look of hatred that William almost flinched.

"This is your doing." He said. "And I'll never forget it."

Infancy: "It started from his birth"

25th October 1990 - 6.13 am - Taipei

"I can't push any longer!"

The exhausted sigh escaped her lips as she sank back on the pillows, her dark hair falling, damp, over her brow. She couldn't take any more pain. It was just too hard.

"Come on, he's nearly here." The nurse with the grey eyes murmured encouragingly. "Just one last, big push."

The half-dead woman, too weak even to cry, shook her head in mute denial; but she knew she had to do something to end these fifty-two hours of agonising labour. She closed her eyes and whispered a swift prayer, and pushed with all the last strength of her will.

She screamed one last time, and then the baby was out. She looked to the window, and dimly saw two crows, perched, looking in curiously at this spectacle of life and death.

"What will you name him?" The nurse asked urgently, seeing that her patient was fading fast.

"William..." She whispered in reply; and when the nurse turned to place William in his mother's arms, she saw that it was already too late. The young woman would never hold her son.

*

William's father was a good example of a bad father. Absent from the birth, he arrived too late to make any impact on his wife's failing health; instead, he was present with a squalling, smelly infant, wrapped in hospital sheets with a little tag around his littler wrist, proclaiming the word "WILLIAM". Astounded by this turn of events, he had not the sense nor the desire to look after William himself. So it was that, even from an early age, William was forced to fend for himself. At first he was a thin, staring little child, learning the arts of both walking and talking later than the other children in his area; in fact, many supposed that he was perhaps stupid or disabled in some mental capacity.

The simple, sad truth of the matter was, William's father often forgot to feed him. Only the presence of an aged servant, who went by the inexplicable name of Bessie, could account for his continued grip on life: at times she would remember his existence and hurry to give him a bottle. Thus it was, also, that he did not start solid food until one day, when he was several months past the usual age, his father forced a grain of rice into his hungry mouth. Then it was that William began to grow.

One day, playing casually in the kitchen, he saw a crow fly in through the window, peck at a few morsels of rice upon the table, and fly out again. Heartened by this example, he began to steal food whenever possible, and eventually grew at a normal rate; until finally, at the age of four and three quarters, he was just the same as others his age.

But, as with the others his age, school must follow soon. Although his father nearly forgot to enrol him, crisis was averted by the intervention of Bessie; and all was set for William's school career to begin.

The Story of William: An Introduction

This is the story of a particular story. It was named after the hero of the story, the poor boy whom the story was about, and so the story follows the hero of the story through his birth, life, and untimely death. This story is like no other story ever told by a storyteller ever... ever. And this is the story of that story.

It all began one dark and wintr'y day, when the wind was harsh and the crows were swooping to the ground, and one boy, by the name, the fateful name, the accursed name of WILLIAM stood out in the elements, seemingly alone. But he was not alone. William was never, ever alone... ever. He was watched, you see, by your faithful narrators; and so, these narrators decided to narrate a narrative, a story, a story about a boy, a story about William. And what you are about to read...

... Is that story.