Disclaimer: You can tell Loveless isn't mine because if it were things would make a lot more sense but the art would suck.

The Way of Things

"Jun?"

A Fighter knows his Sacrifice. Two who share a name share a bond deeper and more true than love, than blood, than anything else in this world - and so when Eri stands behind you, whispering your name in that soft, timid voice, you know something is wrong. Eri is... Eri, and only when something terrible has happened is she ever soft or timid.

That her idea of "terrible" is often out of sync with the rest of the world's means nothing.

"Jun, I - I got the key. Can we go? I want to leave - can we go, Jun, please?" She presses something cold and sharp into your palm, her fingers twisting around yours with the key to a borrowed car trapped safely between. Big sad eyes peek out at you from under the hood of her oversized sweatshirt. "Please?"

She doesn't explain what upset her, but that's all right. The very first thing you learned about Eri was that she's never quiet for long; she'll tell you everything and more, and soon. Instead of nagging you simply ask if she has everything, and she rewards your patience by attempting to smile. That anyone else would call the result a grimace is also meaningless. She tries. You wouldn't dream of asking her for more.

You can't keep others from asking too much of her, so you do what you can.

"I should have everything." She rocks up on her toes, then back on her heels, sneakers squeak-squeaking against the floor. "Let's go. I don't... let's go, Jun. Now." And as you lead your Sacrifice through the lobby and out the front doors of Seven Voices Academy, all you can do is remind yourself that she'll tell you when she's ready.

It doesn't take long.

"Ritsu-sensei is angry with me," she blurts out as she settles into the passenger seat of the borrowed car. "I don't know - I didn't do anything, Jun. I didn't do anything wrong! But sensei's angry with me, and - and I can't..." and the slam of the car door punctuates the sentence she leaves unfinished.

As irrational as it may be, you don't like it when Ritsu speaks with Eri - because this is inevitably the result. But it's not your place to tell Ritsu how he ought to speak to his students... and though Eri knows as well as you do that Ritsu speaks harshly with everyone, all the comfort in the world can't keep her from taking his lectures to heart. Worst of all, though, is that Ritsu has a way of catching her on her own, and to know what upset her you have to coax those hurtful words back out.

Some of the tension eases from her small shoulders as you pull out of the parking lot, as she watches the school grow tiny in the rear-view mirror. But she says nothing.

So you push.

Just a little, in the most casual tone you can manage; you ask if Ritsu yelled at her, and glance away from the road for long enough to see her face crinkle in confusion. "Sensei doesn't yell," she says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "He just..." Shrugging, she trails off, turning away from you to stare out the window.

You understand. Ritsu doesn't have to yell to make people feel small and worthless. He can do that with just a word, a glance; you're only too familiar with those looks that even now can make you feel as pathetic and helpless as one of the butterflies on the walls of Ritsu's office. If you still shrink back from those looks after all these years, Eri - sweet, sensitive little Eri, who is so perceptive of everything around her, good or bad - must have it a thousand times worse.

"He asked me what I was doing here. At Seven Voices, I mean." It's probably a good thing that she's looking away from you, for your grip tightens on the steering wheel at those words, and when she's upset she picks up on those things and takes them hard. "I told him I was here to learn. Seven Voices is a school, right? And you go to schools to learn. But..."

But it wasn't the kind of question that Eri knows how to answer. Bright as she might be, Eri's no good at difficult questions - and sometimes it feels like those are the only questions Ritsu ever asks. You know that isn't necessarily a bad thing. You understand that Ritsu is harshest on his most promising students. But Eri... Eri thinks differently, and there are some things even you, as her Fighter, can't shield her from.

"Then he asked me what I've learned." Another glance away from the road shows you Eri huddled on the edge of her seat, legs hugged to her chest, cheek pressed against the window as she stares at the passing scenery. "What I've learned about being a Sacrifice. I said - I told him... I told him it was my job to take damage. To keep you from getting hurt. And sensei..." Her voice drops to a tiny whisper, and she curls even more tightly into herself. "Sensei told me I was wrong. He wouldn't even tell me why, Jun! He just said I was wrong, and - and... and if I wasn't learning, I could just leave. Forever. Not just for two days a month."

Ritsu couldn't have been more cruel to Eri if he'd tried... but you can't say that he's wrong, exactly. Still, you know better than to take his threat entirely seriously. That he's even willing to speak with Eri means that he sees potential in her, despite her - you hate to think of them as flaws, and someone with potential isn't so easily cast aside.

You hate to see Eri upset, and it's so very tempting to give her all the answers, to explain Ritsu's words to her in a way she can easily understand. It wouldn't be good for her, though, in the end - or for you. Ritsu is testing her, and by extension you as well. Giving her the answers would be cheating.

Instead, a better idea strikes you, and you ask her what she knows about the team called Beloved.

"Beloved...?" She wasn't expecting that. For a moment or two she's silent, puzzling over the sudden change in subject - but you can see her relax a little out of the corner of your eye, and that's all that matters. "Beloved's Fighter is Agatsuma Soubi. Beloved's Sacrifice is - the Sacrifice was Aoyagi Seimei. Aoyagi... died, I think? But why are you asking me, Jun? You've been at Seven Voices longer. You've watched Beloved fight. You've even fought them, haven't you? On auto, even!"

Her glowing admiration is the sweetest sound you've ever heard, and were Eri in a more stable mood you don't think you'd be able to resist reaching out and touching her. As it is, though, you keep yourself in check with nothing more than a smile to show how much she's pleased you. (You don't see any need to point out that Agatsuma was on auto as well, and that you lasted all of two minutes against him. It's important, you think, that Eri be able to look up to you, to trust you.

It's not the Sacrifice's job to protect. It's the Sacrifice's role to be protected.)

Remembering the point of your question, you humor Eri and start to describe what it was like to watch Beloved fight. You describe Agatsuma's incredible skill, and the way he would react instantly to Aoyagi's every command, never seeming to resent the way he was ordered around like something less than human. Watching them fight was like watching one mind in two bodies, so responsive was Agatsuma to his Sacrifice's orders; he almost seemed to know what Aoyagi wanted before a word was spoken.

And you can count on one hand the number of times you saw Aoyagi take damage.

That is where Eri is having trouble, and you can't blame her. It's a complicated lesson to learn - and one you probably shouldn't be teaching now, when Eri's upset and tired and probably more interested in getting to the hotel already so she can sleep than anything else. But the city is hours away, and when else will you have such a perfect opportunity?

Eri listens with wide-eyed fascination as you explain, turning away from the window to watch you. Out of the corner of your eye you catch the slow, steady movement of her tail as it swishes back and forth against the seat; unlike in a real cat, it's not a danger sign. In the two and a half years you've known her you've never seen Eri sit still, and you don't mind if she fidgets as long as she listens.

With such a good audience it's easy to spell out the things Eri has missed, the differences between what someone can do and what they should. Sacrifices can take damage, and Eri's proven herself capable of taking quite a bit of it without so much of a whimper - but their Fighters can and should protect them.

To have the strength to protect someone, but not use it... that should be a crime, or a sin.

Once you've finished, it takes Eri a while to respond - you can all but see the gears turning over in her head as she sorts through the information you've given her. "But..." she finally says, face scrunched up in confusion; "but that power, that... it's all gone now, right? Because..."

She trails off, and when she doesn't start back up again you fill in the blanks. Beloved is gone because Beloved's Sacrifice is dead, and Beloved's Fighter -

"Loveless." Eri says it before you can. "Agatsuma Soubi is Loveless now. And that... that isn't good." Only she doesn't sound like she believes it. And sure enough, after a long moment to gather her thoughts, she spills her heart in a near-incomprehensible jumble of words.

"I don't understand why names are so important. I don't get it, Jun! They're - they're just names. Just words. But people say that Agatsuma should've died when his Sacrifice did, or that he shouldn't care about Loveless because he's Loveless - it doesn't make any sense!" She's rubbing at her neck, at the place where the name she shares with you is tucked under her collarbone. You mirror the gesture without thinking; your own name-scar suddenly aches in sympathy.

"I don't get why teams are so - so sacred. I'm close to you because you're you, you're funny and nice and strong and - and you're perfect, but because you're Fujiwara Jun, not because you're Shameless! I'd love you even if you weren't my Fighter. But because you're my Fighter, I have to love you? It doesn't... it just doesn't..."

She finally runs out of breath and out of words, but you know her confusion hasn't died out along with her voice. As you reach out a hand to her (and silently pray that she'll take it, the only comfort you can give) you can only tell her what you've been told, by countless people in countless ways in the countless hours you've spent learning how to be what you are; some things just are.

Eri grabs your hand and clings to it with both her own, so tightly that it hurts. "Why, Jun?" she asks, and each word bites deep into your heart. "Why?"

Some things, you have to tell her, don't have a reason, no matter how much you want - or need - to find one. Maybe it's a test. Maybe it's some great unknown power's idea of a joke. But she and you are only human, and some things you just aren't meant to know.

Ritsu-sensei might know, you suggest, only half-serious, and Eri gives an almost-smile and pulls away; not satisfied, but resigned to the way of things. For now. "I can't ask sensei. He'd ask why, and I'd have to tell him, and he gets all weird when people - he gets all mopey when people mention Beloved. It's... weird. It's awkward."

And that's that.

The mood lightened a little, Eri seems content to put her headphones on and focus on whatever game it is that's caught her fancy this week. You drive on, away from the beautiful prison of the school and towards the teasing glimpse of freedom the city offers you.

All your life you've aimed to be like Agatsuma Soubi, and while you've always loved Eri with all your heart and soul simply because you are hers, for a long while you prayed that one day she would learn how to be a proper Sacrifice. But now you know better.

Eri hates these monthly trips, but she's lucky, even if she doesn't know it. The pills she gets from her doctor make her sleepy and miserable, but the two days she spends away from Seven Voices remind her what the rest of the world is like. She knows just enough to realize that Ritsu's word isn't everything. She knows enough to ask questions, to speak up when things aren't right.

She hasn't been brainwashed -

which puts her a step above you.