THE SORROW IN HIS HEART. 
Commodore was sitting by the window, gazing into the full moon suspended in the noiseless sky. It was in her silence that he found a companion who could hear all that lay within his mind. His voice was a whisper that the night wind carried away.
"I wish someone could hear me," he whispered to himself as he looked at the glow above. He turned on his radio and listened as classical music swirled through the room with soothing melodies. It was a sanctuary in which peace reigned for a little while. "This is the only place that makes sense," he sighed, letting the music wrap around him like a protective cocoon.
This time, he did something unusual. He took off his mask carefully and unwrapped his black gloves. Cool air swept across his naked skin and he hesitantly looked over his body. From hands to feet, he kept staring at every curve and wrinkle. Then the socks followed suit and were thrown aside. Fingers hovered over his skin, curiosity blooming slowly.
What is wrong with me? he whispered into the silence, his lips furrowing into a frown. Why do they treat me as though I don't fit? And indeed, anger coalesced with tears in his tight fists as memories of how his parents had always and were forever, taking care of his brother, Hearst.
As if on cue, a creaking door swung open. Commodore rushed to relock the mask over his face just in time as Hearst entered the room carrying a basket.
 "Brother," said Hearst with a grin, "Mom made cookies for both of us." He put the basket down on the table and set out the milk and cookies in neat rows.
Commodore cocked his head to one side, suspicious. "Really?" Or is this just for you? His voice dripped from under the mask he wore with doubt, his eyes squinting through it.
Hearst laughed lightly and shook his head. "No! It's for us. I swear. Look!" He slid the basket closer. "Mom and Dad love us equally, Commodore. I wish you'd believe that.".
The Commodore's fingers tapped out a rhythm on the table. "If that is the case.why do you feel they only see you. As though I am not here at all? His voice cracked, but he would not let it show. After all, this mask of stainless steel did not ripple with emotion.
Hearst's features relaxed. Not that he couldn't relate to his brother's position at least. "They love you, Commodore. Perhaps they don't show you affection in a manner you want them to, but I'm sure they do."
He squeezed Commodore's shoulder, trying to reassure the man. "We're family, after all. We're in this together."
THE NEXT MORNING, sunlight streaming through the windows of Mr. Kinley's house proved stronger than an intrusion of lively chatter as Mr. and Mrs. Keyton called to make a visit. Mrs. Keyton was a robust woman with a warm smile and short cropped hair-she leaned over Mrs. Lenora in an effort to get started on a conversation.
I have just received word that her boy is going to join a fencing club, Mrs. Keyton whispered, eyes gleaming with excitement. "Perhaps your boys should give it a go too?"
Mrs. Lenora gave a polite, distant smile. "That's interesting," she said, but her voice didn't sound as if she cared. She wasn't one for gossip; still, Mrs. Keyton's chatter persisted like a relentless drizzle on a dreary day.
But to his friends he was saying to Mr. Kinley, "I want to instruct Hearst," he stated with eyes set and serious. "He's got it in him-he's a possibility. I want to feed on those talents and make him ready for the future."
Mr. Kinley was lighted up with true delight. "That's nice to hear. Thanks, Keyton. It's such an honor to have you tutoring our lad.".
He ended the talking as he passed through a doorway, listening curiously, eavesdropping, really. As he heard discussion about his future, he was filled with emotion with excitements mainly. He did not waste much more time, dashing outdoors to share the good news with his friend, Saviet.
"I'm going to school soon, Saviet!" Hearst called, running across the lawn to where his friend sat under a tree.
Saviet was one of those bright-eyed, mischievously grinning young boys who clapped his hands excitedly. "Me too! My parents say it's a great opportunity. They want me to take over the family business someday-like inheriting a pot of gold!" His eyes gleam at the thought, reflecting youthful infatuation with wealth.
Hearst laughed. "You always think in terms of gold. But my grandfather says there's more to life than just money. Health and peace in your heart-these are true strength."
Saviet leaned forward, interested. "Peace. and strength?" he breathed as if tasting the words.
"Yeah," said Hearst, clenching a fist with determination. "That's the kind of power that counts most."
COMMODORE WAS SITTING in the attic reading to get lost in the words. Hearst taught him how to read, but it was their grandfather, Major Leomord, who became his best teacher. Every time he visited, the Major shared with him wisdom—it was speaking not just about reading and writing but about life itself.
It was one of those days, and the familiar knock thudded against the door into the attic. "Come in!" Commodore called.
The door creaked open and forward came Major Leomord. The older man smiled warmly and twinkled in his eyes. "Gentleman, it's time to remake yourself," he said. "Come with me and I'll teach you something new."
Saluted playfully. "Major Leomord, reporting for duty!" He ran into his grandfather's arms and felt the rare moment of joy.
"You can change the world, Commodore," the Major said softly. "You don't even see it yet. You're smart-more than you think. But you have to sharpen your skills, step by step."
"What kind of skills?" Commodore asked, curiosity flickering in his eyes. "Are you going to train me to be a master or a ninja?" he joked and burst into laughter, lightening the tension.
The Major chuckled. "Something like that. But first, we are going to start with fencing."
Commodore's excitement turned to apprehension in a flash. "Mom won't like this. She'll be mad at me."
Let her be mad, said the Major with a sly grin. You will never grow out of that attic if you never confront your fear.
The Commodore hesitated. What if I can't do it? What if I fail?
He dropped to his knees beside his grandson. You don't have to be perfect, Commodore. You just have to try. Failure is part of the process.
Taking a deep breath, Commodore nodded. "Okay. but I won't take off my mask."
"That's all right," the Major told him with a smile. "No one needs to see your face just yet."
He stepped into the World
The jeep rumbled down the road, Commodore and his granddad in it, to a grand white house. Commodore wore the Major's jacket and felt a weird throng of thrilling and nervous excitement, as they drove past trees and houses. This time, he saw the world outside the attic, but this time it was with his eyes and not through a window.
"This feels. different," Commodore whispered, his fingers tracing the smooth stainless steel of his mask. "It's unfair how much I've missed."
As he stepped into the fencing hall, the spotless white walls and the vaulted ceiling took Commodore's breath away. The air had that new wood smell and the faint scent of waxed floors.
Inside, he armed Commodore in his fencing garb: mask, gloves, jacket, and knee guards. With a glance at the mirror, where he was no longer the boy but a fencer ready for battle.
"You look like a ninja," the Major was teasing him now, poking fun at him. "Ready to face the world?"
Commodore gulped but didn't step back. "I'll try.".
Good, said the major, clapping him on the shoulder. Remember, Commodore-courage isn't about not being afraid. It's about going forward, when you are.
The Commodore nodded slowly, the heaviness of the words inside him settling into his heart. "I think. I'm ready."
And with that he stepped forward for the first time onto the fencing strip; the world was no longer a place to fear, but a challenge waiting to be conquered.