Two chapters uploaded together purely because the prologue is so short...


Protector

"Good afternoon," says a soft voice. It seems to be very close by, possibly even right next to the bed. "Glad to see you've made it back to us."

Ryuga's eyes snap open and he sits bolt upright ready for a fight. Then every single muscle in his body screams with pain and he ends up curled in an awkward ball of limbs, trying to contain the agony.

"Breathe," the voice orders curtly. "Breathe through the pain or you'll pass out."

It is one of the most difficult instructions he has ever had to follow, but he manages it somehow. The pain doesn't exactly recede, but it crests in a wave and falls before returning with the next intake of breath. At least he can breathe, though.

"Wh-where am I?" He can't uncurl from the position he's in – it's just too painful.

"That doesn't matter. You're safe – no-one can hurt you here."

Why does that matter? No, that wasn't the right question to ask. Why does it matter so much? What could possibly have happened to him, the Dragon Emperor of Destruction, that would mean he had to be put somewhere safe where no-one could touch him?

"You've been very badly injured," the voice says, and a hand brushes against what he now recognises not as clothing but bandages that wrap around his arms. "You were brought here to recover. I was put in charge of looking after you."

Oh. Is he in some kind of hospital, then? No, the room is too small and dark for that. His sight is jagged with pain, but he can just about make out a window on the other side of the room, covered by thick, dark curtains. From around the edges, golden light spills – it must be the middle of the day. No hospital he knows of has curtains that thick, or keeps them closed beyond the dawn. If he is in a hospital, it wouldn't matter, though. He could get out of there in less time than it took to turn around.

Except at the moment, turning around would require standing up, which hurts so badly that he can't even start to contemplate doing it.

"Careful," the voice warns, and then a lamp flickers on next to Ryuga's head. After a moment of screwing his eyes shut against the glare, Ryuga's vision adjusts, and he sees the owner of the voice for the first time.

Ryuga's first thought is that he – for it is a he – looks more than a bit like Tsubasa, though why that half-powered little bird-brain should come to mind he has no idea. The man has long, silvery-white hair that falls down his back, straight as a poker, so that might be it - but it's loose rather than held with that strange, golden clip that Tsubasa has. He's also much older than Tsubasa, probably in his late twenties, and wearing black trousers with a red shirt. The top button of his shirt is undone, and Ryuga doesn't know why this bothers him, but it does.

"You've been very badly hurt," the man repeats. "You probably won't be able to stand for a little while, maybe two days. The bones in your right leg were completely shattered."

Ryuga, who hasn't really been listening because he was too preoccupied asking his body what it thinks his estimated recovery time should be, suddenly realises what the man just said. "A couple of days?"

The man smiles, and to Ryuga's shock he realises that the man's canine teeth are as sharp and fang-like as his own. "Oh don't worry, Ryuga. I know all about how your dragon helps you heal. He's done it a lot, hasn't he?"

Ryuga avoids the man's eye. It isn't something he wants to talk about.

"You've been sleeping for several days," the man tells him. "Most of your lesser wounds have healed already, but the major ones..." His left hand brushes against a bandage Ryuga has only just noticed wrapped around his head, whilst his right drifts to the one that covers the whole of Ryuga's left arm. "They'll take a while longer. Trust me, Ryuga, I will do everything I can to help you back to full strength."

Ryuga rolls his eyes at the ridiculous statement – since when has he needed help? - and then winces as the slight movement aggravates a building headache. Is there any part of his body that doesn't hurt? Experimentally, he tries to move out of the foetal position that he's curled into, but he can barely straighten his spine before he has to stop, biting down on the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from showing the pain on his face. If this is how he is when he's already half-healed, then what must he have been like when he arrived here? Wherever here is.

He tries to move his head a tiny bit to see a little more of the room (surely that can't be too much to ask from his battered body?) and just about manages to make out what looks like a bookcase on the far side of the room. It's very full. Huh. So he's in the care of a reader, is he? Just his luck – he's never been fond of reading. There's no pictures on the wall, and much to his relief there are also no mirrors. Ryuga hates mirrors, the sight of his own reflection. Especially when he's wounded, like now.

Ryuga glances back at the man, who is just getting to his feet, and takes another good look at his face. Under narrow, whitish eyebrows, the man's eyes are as gold as Ryuga's own, but they are strange. As he moves his head, turning away from Ryuga and taking a step towards the door, different parts of his eyes catch the light from the lamp and mirror it, making the irises look like some kind of faceted gem, even though they aren't. They can't be.

"I'm sorry..." Ryuga begins, staring at the man's back. "But... who are you?" It's important to him that he knows, because knowledge is power and if there's one thing he needs right now, it is strength.

The man looks back, and shakes his head. "I'm just the one who's been put in charge of you... your legal guardian, if you like. Whatever it is, though, you are perfectly safe here."

"Surely I should know your name, though..." Ryuga says, and then stops when the man turns. His new guardian's strange, faceted eyes are full of light, shining in the darkening room. It is as if a fire has been lit behind them, illuminating them.

"I cannot tell you my real name," his guardian insists, locking gazes with Ryuga and keeping his face in that terrible, solemn expression. "I can't risk it, Ryuga, not after everything I've done to keep you with us."

Is he some kind of secret agent? Ryuga knew that the WBBA employed them – Tsubasa was one, wasn't he? Maybe that was the answer. Maybe he was related to Tsubasa, and didn't want Ryuga to hold it against him. No, Tsubasa, I am your father... Why was his mind going on these strange tangents? Definitely the pain causing that. Probably. "Then... can I just have a name to call you?"

The man laughs and the lights go out of his eyes. "I suppose I owe you that much. You may call me Tamotsu."

"Tamotsu," Ryuga repeats quietly. Tamotsu.