Saber stocked down the hallway of the old abandoned school, his combat boots that now resembled thin pieces of leather wrapped around his feet form years of wear and tear making an appealing scraping noise as they colided with the ground with each step. The dark hair that shaded his pained eyes only added to his dark outlook that I myself still didn't know everything about, even after knowin him just about my whole life. The way his foot scuffed against the cold linoleum and made him stumble made me worried.
Saber was uspet. About what, I couldn't tell you, and how I knew that was also a mystery. Maybe it was just how his eyes were extraordinarily dark that day. Or maybe it was how his shoulders were slumped ever so slightly. Or maybe it was just something that came along with knowing someone since birth.
As for what was wrong? It changed from day to day. Some days he greived over never knowing his mum. Other days he hated Master for killing his father in front of his own eyes. And sometimes it was the mere thought of his name being a killing instrument.
Saber was the name given to him by the blood buisness that his father had brought him into and he was tainted by that very name of his that he would never be able to rid himself of. Saber was condemned to this buisness and he could never get out alive. And he knew that.