When Meta Knight left the bathroom, his hair still a bit wet and already dressed in his old, but now cleaner clothes, he found that his room wasn't empty anymore. A soldier with sun tanned, freckle-covered skin and tousled blonde hair awaited him. He didn't wear his mask and his face showed mild interest, mixed with a spark of humor many had lost during the war. Meta quickly assured himself that his own mask sat firmly over his face and forced back the instinct of 'Enemy! Attack!' that sent adrenaline rushes through his body.

The soldier looked up and the corners of his mouth rose a bit: "There you are. Remember me?"

Meta shook his head, though he clearly could identify him as one of the men in Galacta Knight's group, one whose name he had yet to learn.

"I'm Sir Jecra," the man said, stretched out his hand and Meta shook it with his uninjured one, "I'm supposed to show you around a bit and mentor you. That's tomorrow though, today I'll just make sure you don't get lost in here. They'd assign you a Star Warrior for a mentor anyway, but we're kinda... short of them at the moment."

"What about Galacta Knight?," Meta dared to ask. The other froze and his smile faltered.

...did he imagine it or did Jecra really avoid his eyes?

No, he hadn't, he realized when the other shifted and his shoulders rose a bit. Defensively.

For a moment Meta Knight thought Jecra might punish him and though the idea didn't frighten him, he hadn't wanted to make enemies here. Not when they didn't trust him just yet.

Jecra, shoulders still risen, didn't seem to be offended though. That was good, at least.

"In the process of leaving. She's leading what few Star Warriors are left to clear our path through Nightmare's troops outside the atmosphere."

There was more to it, Meta knew, and the thought made him frown. He stopped himself barely in time to stop it from reaching his eyes.

"You ready to go?," Sir Jecra asked, smoothly switching the topic. The blue-haired warrior thought about the First Aid Kit, his still throbbing palm and the sandwich that could fill the hole in his stomach. Then he thought about the trust and approval he needed to gain.

"Ready," he said.

"The ninja own pretty much all of the east wing. Wouldn't go in there if I were you, they don't like trespassers much. Only one recruit who went in there unauthorized didn't get in major trouble and she's one of them now. Called Nala or something, has quite the temper, if I remember correctly," Jecra shrugged, "No matter though. Ninja business isn't our business unless it's in battles. Or if they want it to be our business."

Meta followed the older warrior past the entrance to a hallway shrouded in darkness and on to a wide door. Jecra pressed a button and it slid aside; Meta Knight saw a large room, the floor covered in something soft. Three quarters of the far wall were a giant window, but since there wasn't much light outside, it did little to brighten the room and flickering neon lamps gave everything a faint grey color. A few soldiers were doing warm ups scattered across the large, clear space.

"Training room," Jecra grinned, "We'll be using that tomorrow."

He waved at a warrior with a red ponytail who waved back before turning to talk to a soldier carrying a dangerous looking mace. They threw Meta a brief glance that induced something like unease in him. Weird, he didn't get uneasy, not unless there was a good reason for it. Which usually meant he had upset the emperor somehow, but he was nowhere close right now.

Jecra relieved him from thinking the feeling over by nudging him out the door so he could close it again.

"Next up, infirmary!," he announced brightly.

After he had seen the Waddle Dee-run infirmary, the main machine room, the soldiers' quarters, one of six storage units, the outside of the labs, the navigation room including the attached observatory, the small wing reserved for the few non-GSA citizens and the door leading to the main bridge, Jecra steered him down a seemingly empty hallway. The smooth, windowless walls painted white like Meta's new room felt cold and grey under the neon-light.

"One last stop before the cafeteria," his guide and, apparently, mentor explained.

He stopped and brushed over a very specific part of the wall. A round piece moved and revealed a keypad. Jecra typed in a code and a way larger chunk of wall lowered itself. Jecra stepped into the passage behind without hesitation, but Meta waited a heartbeat longer. Something in there, at the end of this hallway, was both calling and rejecting him. Hot and cold flashes ran across his back. Something seemed to burn on his chest, sending out searing heat in waves. The sensation was both painful and weirdly euphoric. Meta hurried to follow Jecra.

The older soldier waited for him in another hallway that seemed to run parallel to the white hall they had left earlier. It was more narrow though and the walls were dark. No, that wasn't right. Scattered across the walls lay Warp Stars in neatly cut out cases, emitting a softly pulsing glow. Meta reached into his shirt and pulled out his own Warp Star. It pulsed with light just like the ones on the walls, but also heat. His hand felt uncomfortably hot quickly, he could have sworn the skin was burning, but it had no visible effects and Meta was grateful for that.

Jecra was looking at him expectantly.

"I...," he started and trailed off into silence. His fingers clenched around his Star and the golden edges dug into his palm; it was a welcome distraction from the feeling of burning skin.

"Overwhelming, uh? All Star Warriors store their Warp Stars here when they aren't on long distance missions," the older soldier explained after a few heartbeats, "When I went here first, the whole thing was bright. The walls were completely covered in their Stars..."

He glanced at Meta and the Star Warrior forced a sad glimmer into his eyes and a tiny slump onto his shoulders. They stood in silence once more until Jecra cleared his throat: "Your Star will get a spot here, too, once the head of the Star Warrior unit is back and assigns you one."

When he didn't get a reaction, he continued: "...we should go get dinner. It's been a long day."

While the two left the storage hallway and the passage back to the main path, Meta couldn't help but feel like something in his chest was tugged on from two different directions; a known feeling for him, but it had been a long time since he last felt it. No matter though - he had decided which tug he would follow long ago.

The cafeteria was loud and full. Jecra dropped Meta Knight off at a table with three other recruits and hurried over to the corner where non-warriors sat. Meta briefly saw how he hugged a woman whose belly was round and heavy with an unborn child, then a group of senior Galaxy Soldiers walked past and when they were gone, the pair had disappeared from sight.

"So you're the new guy?"

Meta turned. A boy with dark, almost black skin and bright red hair tied together in a ponytail atop his head eyed him curiously. The Star Warrior nodded politely.

"Name's Dragato. Gonna get my 'Sir' any day now, so you might wanna stay on my good side," the boy said, his tone more mischievous than serious, and stretched out one hand. Meta shook it, unsure what to reply.

"Pffffft, as if," said a girl - no, she was older than that, a woman - with pale skin and almond-shaped eyes. Her lilac hair fell in soft curls around her face. Her skin had an olive tint, almost like Galacta's, but paler. "Don't listen to him," she said and Meta noted how her words sounded a bit off, like she wasn't speaking her Native Tongue, "I'm way older than him and I won't get my 'Lady' for at least two months!"

"It's not about age," pouted Dragato, "If it were, Galacta would have hers since ages!"

"I've trained longer, too."

"But Garludeeeee..."

Meta tuned out on their bickering and faced the last person at the table. By the looks of it, she was a ninja; most of her face was obscured by her black mask. He only saw a pair of gleaming, magenta eyes and dark violet hair, firmly tied in a tiny knot atop her head. Not even the shade of her skin he could be certain about as the shadows on her face falsified whatever he could see.

Why wasn't she the with the other ninja?

"Hello," he said with carefully composed friendliness, "I'm Meta... Knight, I guess."

She looked him up and down, calculating, but her eyes betrayed no emotion.

"Nyela."

The ninja stood immediately, arms folded behind her back and eyes down. Another ninja had approached their table without Meta noticing him. Like Nyela, it was hard to find any outstanding features about him. His hair was brown and bushy and his gaze red, but other than that, he remained a vague shape of black.

"You may sit at our table tonight," he said without sparing Meta a single glance.

Nyela nodded silently and the two left.

Meta turned back to Garlude and Dragato who had fallen silent as soon as the other ninja had made his presence known.

"Who was that?," he asked forcedly casual.

"Yamikage. Pretty high up in ninja hierarchy. Nyela's mentor, too," Garlude shrugged, "It's a good thing he keeps to himself mostly."

"Yeah," Dragato chimed in, "Nyela was a prick while she was a regular apprentice, but now she's unbearable!"

Garlude glared at her fellow apprentice and under her scolding gaze, Dragato added: "...at least she's more quiet now. And doesn't train with us anymore."

Before Garlude could as much as open her mouth to scold the other verbally, someone set down their tray of food on the spot Nyela had occupied before. Meta Knight looked up and recognized the mechanic that had been among the group he had encountered after fighting the crow demon.

"Hey there," he said and since his mask only covered his eyes and the area immediately around it, the grin he wore was clearly visible, "How you doing?"

"You're supposed to sit with the other Sirs now, Falspar," Dragato pointed out. The eye roll was visible even through Sir Falspar's visor.

Garlude eyed the newcomer's tray with badly hidden jealousy: "Full soldiers always get the best stuff."

Falspar grinned again: "You aren't gonna get anything if you don't go now."

Dragato jumped to his feet and sped off; Garlude snorted, but got up herself, then looked at Meta: "You're gonna come along or what?"

He shook his head just a tad too quickly: "Not hungry."

As if on cue, his stomach emitted a rumbling growl. Meta felt how his ears grew hot with embarrassment and was glad he was still wearing his mask.

Garlude rose one of her finely trimmed brows: "Sure. Get going now or I'll force-feed you."

A few senior warriors were looking over and Meta gave up, not wanting to start a fight of any sort. Not quite yet.

Ten minutes later he was back at the table, a tray with a bowl on it in front of him. The stew in front of him smelled delicious and his mouth watered at the thought of food, but still he hesitated, taking extra time to look at everyone at the table again. Dragato and Falspar were stuffing their faces and talking, too deep in conversation to pay him any mind.

Garlude sat across the table from him though, arms folded and she hadn't touched her food yet. Meta bit back a sigh.

"Look...," he started and hesitated, "I... my mask..."

Damn. He should have planned this scenario. Correction, he should have planned this scenario happening so soon. NOVA damn it.

"Can't be worse than Dragato's face," Sir Falspar grinned and patted his back a bit rougher than necessary.

"Oi!"

The two got into a minor argument and it took their attention away from Meta again.

Garlude shook her head softly: "Seriously. We don't judge each other's faces. Masks are for battles."

"Not mine," Meta said quickly, falling into the rehearsed speech that he had planned for later, "I... need it."

The other recruit looked at him questioningly. Meta swallowed down his doubts and slowly undid the clamps that held the mask on his face.

With the visor, his vision left as well. He heard how Garlude whistled quietly. They wouldn't kick him out for it, would they? He had yet to prove himself useful, but he also was a Star Warrior. He wouldn't fail his mission because of... this?

"That looks like it hurt," Garlude commented finally.

"It did," he replied as calmly as he could.

"Your eyes...," she started, but didn't continue.

"Damaged beyond repair," Meta stated bluntly and imagined Garlude's fascinated gaze on the scar tissue marring most of his face; maybe it was a disgusted look, too, he couldn't see, "The mask is an invention by my father. The visor allows me to see."

"Then how do you eat and that stuff where you can't wear it?," Garlude sounded more curious than anything. Meta supposed that was among the better outcomes of this scenario, though he would have preferred not getting into the situation at all.

"I'm not helpless without my sight," he answered and barely managed to keep his annoyance out of his voice and face, "I lost it when I was three and didn't get the mask until I was sixteen. I can do most things with my other senses, but in certain situation it's... impractical."

Silence. Meta heard a soft rustle and guessed that Garlude had nodded. Nodding at the blind guy, brilliant. He let it slide for now though.

When she didn't speak up again, Meta started to eat. As soon as he finished, he slipped the mask back on. Only Falspar had cleared his plate faster than him; Dragato was about to finish, but Garlude had barely eaten half of her food. She was sneaking glances at Meta whenever she thought he didn't notice, but he certainly did. At least no one apart from their table had noticed, it seemed. Meta Knight knew his blindness didn't hinder him much - it was part of him, his other senses had adjusted just fine and yes, it was impractical sometimes, just like being tall or being left-handed was impractical sometimes. He knew all that, but no one else did and he had no intention of letting them know just so they could kick him out because they deemed him weak.

Finally, when Falspar had already excused himself and left, Garlude was done with her meal as well. Meta considered just leaving, but he supposed it was impolite and he needed to establish alliances here.

"So, how come you joined the GSA?," asked Dragato. Meta just barely stopped himself from flinching when he was addressed out of the blue like that. He hesitated a moment, but luckily Dragato was eager to tell his own story first: "I joined cause I grew up 'round here. Was a pretty place, before the Demons came," his face darkened considerably, "Got most of the people I knew. Barely even remember them now, even my family. I'm getting payback now."

Meta Knight didn't like the look on Dragato's face one bit. Dragato nudged him and looked at him expectantly.

"I... My family lived in one of the neutral zones. When it became certain I was a Star Warrior, they sent me to find the GSA and get proper training."

"Booooring," Dragato commented and Garlude looked about ready to throw her empty bowl at him. Meta glanced at her, waiting. She noticed and sighed, brushing one lilac lock out of her face.

"My husband was a Galaxy Soldier. He fell a year after our daughter was born and I paid someone much money to put her in a stasis pod while I went to replace him. This is not a world I want my child to grow up in," she told them.

'It won't be the world she will grow up in,' Meta Knight thought to himself.

The cafeteria had emptied considerably. Jecra, one arm slung protectively around the pregnant woman from earlier, stopped by the table.

"Meta Knight?"

The Star Warrior stood and dipped his head.

"Tomorrow morning, 8am, in the training room. Understood?"

Meta nodded firmly and Jecra and his presumed wife left.

"Been a while since Jecra had an apprentice," Dragato commented when he rose and started stacking their bowls and trays, "I'd have thought they'd assign you a Star Warrior."

"With Lady Sirius stationed on Gamma-4 and Sir Firenze dead, there are no fully trained Star Warrior around," Garlude said and shook her head.

Dragato shrugged and shoved the stacks into Meta's hands.

Only way later, when Meta was laying in his new bed, the new covers covering his body and sleep already reaching for him with long, dark fingers, he realized that Dragato and Garlude had unknowingly given him the information he had wanted from Jecra: Though a senior Galaxy Soldier, Galacta Knight had not received her title of a Lady yet.

It was only 7.40am when Meta arrived in the training room. He had avoided the cafeteria this morning, partly because he didn't want to reveal his face again and partly because he feared he might get lost if he tried to find his way on his own. The sandwich from Waddle Dee's basket hadn't tasted bad, anyway; a bit dry from laying untouched for a while, but it filled his stomach and that was what mattered.

At the moment, he had positioned himself right next to the door, back against the wall. The windows showed vast darkness and glittering stars now, so Meta assumed they had left Akyra some time during the night.

The training area was empty apart from Yamikage, Nyela and another ninja apprentice he hadn't seen before. They stuck to the far corner though and as long as they left Meta alone he wouldn't bother them either. Meta closed his eyes and felt how his other senses took over with well-known ease.

"...higher." That was Yamikage's voice and Meta was somewhat surprised how such a quiet voice could sound so commanding. There was a whirring sound that stopped with an abrupt thud. Then another.

"Tageki's turn." Yamikage again.

A few more whirs were heard, then Yamikage ordered Nyela to take over again. Meta heard how she shifted a bit before throwing and tensed. The whirring came closer quickly, and his hand shot up on reflex, closing around something small, sharp, metallic and quite deadly if used correctly. He opened his eyes. A kunai, as expected.

His gaze flickered over to the ninja. Tageki was facing Yamikage, but both the senior ninja and his apprentice were looking at Meta with barely concealed interest and, in Nyela's case, disgust. That seemed to be her default look for anyone but Yamikage though.

With slow steps, Yamikage walked over.

"Impressive," he commented, "Your reflexes are good."

He held out his hand and Meta hesitated for a second or two, then handed him the dagger. Yamikage's arm moved quickly, quicker than Nyela's throw had been by lengths, but the kunai didn't stab Meta. Instead, there was a yelp from behind him and Tageki was cradling his bleeding arm. Nyela was holding a second dagger, tip pointed at her, inches from her shoulder, and Meta realized Yamikage must have thrown that one, too.

"I hope your training will sharpen them even further."

With that, the ninja turned around, sent Tageki to the infirmary and continued training Nyela. His gaze left an uneasy prickle on Meta's back that didn't even subside when the two ninja left the room.

He glanced at the large clock over the door. 8.05am. Jecra wasn't going to be on time?

'Discipline has never been a Galaxy Soldier Army trait, it seems,' he thought, folded his arms to hide his body behind his cape and waited.

Jecra arrived at 8.18am, threw Meta a pair of white gloves and a wooden sword and ordered him to the corner opposite of the one Yamikage had occupied earlier. He himself carried a shield and wore his mask now; it split his messy hair in the middle and gave him a look much more like a warrior than the well-humoured guide he had been the day before. His sword was made of wood also, though it looked in less good shape than Meta's whose weapon seemed nearly new. The senior warrior positioned himself opposite of Meta.

"Attack me," he ordered.

Meta Knight calculated briefly; Jecra was taller than him, broader too, but maybe if he could unbalance him?

He shot forward, aiming for the feet. Jecra parried the blow with his shield and pushed the recruit back. Just in time, Meta brought up his weapon replica to block and the two wooden blades locked. Meta allowed himself to step back and put his weight on his heels. Jecra, slightly unbalanced, moved to adjust his footing and the blue-haired warrior took the chance. He leaned forward, twisting his sword and pushing his free hand against the shield. To his surprise, Sir Jecra used the motion to direct all force back on the swords and Meta felt how the hilt slipped from his fingers. He jumped back while the sword fell and dove forward, below the shield, kicked at Jecra's feet and felt how the larger warrior swayed. He grabbed his sword from the ground, aimed and struck. Jecra stumbled back and a second, well-aimed kick hurtled his weapon away from him. Instinctively, Meta jumped forward, his sword risen in a stabbing motion. Jecra's shield connected with the side of his head painfully and he was thrown aside. He rolled to cushion the shock, but it didn't help the ringing in his ears. Meta remained crouching on the floor, vision spinning. He closed his eyes. He didn't feel as dizzy now, but with his ears still ringing as they did, he had very little to help him orient himself.

The sharp drift of something approaching him quickly prompted him to roll to the side once more. His head protested with another bout of nausea.

"...you okay?"

Meta opened his eyes. Jecra was staring at him, one hand outstretched to help him up from the spot he had been sitting on before. So it hadn't been an attack?

He got to his feet on his own, still wary. His head seemed to calm down a bit, apart from the throbbing pain that had set in where the shield had slammed into his head.

"Fine," he replied. Jecra didn't look convinced, Meta could see the doubt in his eyes even through the mask he wore. For a moment, he was afraid that he would be sent away now, deemed useless, before he forced that nonsense back.

"If you say so," he gave Meta few seconds to protest, but the recruit remained silent, "That wasn't half bad. You are a bit stuck in certain attack patterns though and most of your moves will be hard to use in a team. We're gonna have to work on that."

Meta nodded, grimaced slightly when it sent a spark of pain through his body and went back in position.

They trained until lunch; Meta suffered a few more bruises, but overall they were nearly evenly matched. In a real battle, there was no way to tell who would win. When Jecra finally called it quits for the moment, the clock read 1.09pm. Meta found himself dragged to the cafeteria where his mentor left him on his own devices once more.

The Star Warrior considered sneaking back out; he was hungry, but perhaps he could find a Waddle Dee and have them bring him another sandwich? Before he could think any further though, Dragato noticed his arrival and started waving wildly. NOVA damn it. He couldn't just flee now.

Biting back a sigh, he walked his way to the table. Dragato was alone this time.

"Hello," Meta greeted him, stiff and polite as always. Dragato only grinned in return as his attempts to speak through a mouth full of vegetables failed. The Star Warrior sat down opposite of him and, out of habit, scanned his surroundings. There were less people around than there had been the evening before, but it was still uncomfortably full; and noisy.

"Where are the others?," he asked when he saw neither Falspar, Garlude nor Nyela. Dragato swallowed and set down his fork.

"They didn't tell you?," he frowned, "Garlude was ordered to some planet as part of a securing unit, cause her mentor went, too. Won't be back for a while, either. No idea where Falspar is, but if I had to guess I'd say the other mechanics are keeping him in the machine room for lunch. They're kinda tight-knit and stuff," he started shovelling vegetables into his mouth again, "Ny'la's no' been a' our 'able 'ince las' nigh'. Ya'i'age 'oesn' like S'ar 'arriors 'uch, I 'hink."

Meta Knight nodded and forced his face to remain blank even though it was hidden by his mask. Dragato seemed somewhat gullible, he could be a useful source of information, but looking disgusted at his eating habits probably wouldn't strengthen a possible liking the other recruit might have for him.

"What about you?," Dragato asked and tipped his head to the side, "You're not gonna eat?"

Meta Knight shrugged vaguely.

"Garlude made me promise to make sure you eat properly," Dragato waved his fork at him, "So you better do that. Don't wanna get chewed out by her when she gets back."

"If," Meta correctly automatically.

His fellow recruit blinked: "What?"

Shit. He hadn't meant to say that. Force of habit, he supposed, but how could he get himself out of this?

"...securing units have one of the highest casualty rates," he said finally, "Garlude isn't on a harmless mission."

Dragato shook his head and for the first time since he met the other, Meta saw him look entirely serious.

"Garlude doesn't get... not like that. She's though."

He sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than Meta Knight. The blue-haired warrior lifted his shoulders in a hint of a shrug and stood, suddenly glad he could go and get his food.

They didn't talk any more for the rest of the meal.