You were a child assassin, modelled by stick for a war that was inevitable one day. You and matt would always have a thing for each other no matter what. You were both running in the same circles so it made sense to always have different forms of contact, wouldn’t it? He always thought you were worth saving. Never once would he thought you were the secret heir of the hand, more specifically the black sky.

“Hey!” He yells, trying to bring your focus back as you pointed your knife at him. “It’s not real. It’s just a trick. Think about it. They just want to use you or want something from you! Listen to me!” He yelled desperately. “The Black Sky cannot be controlled, manipulated or transported.” Someone in the hand murmured.

Suddenly matt gets closer to you, the knife getting dangerously close to him. “Hey, they can't have you, You don't belong to anyone.”