Disclaimer: I do not own any of the content following this statement. All titles, names, and plots are owned by Ken Akamatsu and TokyoPop inc.

Warning: The following may contain material that some viewers may not find suitable.

Chapter One...
Let's Talk...

4 Months Later…

It stared at her, cocking his white-striped head to one side, his black eyes gleaming in the early morning sunrise. Motoko Aoyama stirred, raising an arm to shield her throbbing eyes. The little Thrush raised its beak, uttered a fearful cry, and took flight with the rest of its alarmed companions. Rising from her futon, Motoko scanned the room alertly, as though expecting someone to be there. But the room was empty, and she lowered her eyes longingly to the shallow impression at the other side of the bed.

Her hakama was strewn lazily between the door separating the bed from the rest of the room, and her soiled kimono beneath her bare body, stretched from a long night's escapade. She sighed, stood up, and began picking after her scattered belongings.

She walked across the room to deposit her clothes in a bin, then wrapped a clean towel around herself. Her sword, the Hina, lay sheathed on its stand. She picked it up and headed for the hot springs, observing the quiet aura of solitude that seemed to have bequeathed upon the dormitory by some higher power.

Wading into the steaming water, Motoko became aware of a lonely melancholy that overcame all other thought. It was tiring having to awaken every morning alone. Whether it was in her room, or in his, the result was almost always the same, and she always found herself looking forward to his returns late in the afternoon. Today was different, of course, but that didn't change the fact of the matter. It happened at such moments that she wished her elder sister, Tsuruko, were here to give her advice.

"Actually," she murmured, smiling slightly, "My mock exams are coming up soon, aren't they?"

"Oh, excuse me…"

The doors reopened at the sudden interruption, allowing the straggling commuters to finish boarding. The intercom buzzed to life, announcing their departure. The world began to fade away, faster and faster, until everything became a blur. Naru Narusegawa looked on it all with an odd sense of dispassion. It contradicted that eagerness she had bestowed herself this morning. It was normal of course. After cancelling classes the precious year, she would have to toe a fine line to avoid expulsion.

In the end, she had given in to Mei's urgings and withdrawn her dropout request. Although her mother had been slightly disappointed, she supported her eldest daughter's wish to continue her education. Besides, it would have been a letdown after trying so hard to get in.

There was a beep preceding the announcement of her destination. The train slowed to a stop, swaying her book back to one side. She held it tightly in her hands, standing up once the force of gravity ceased its hold. There were other students already leaving the station. She took a breath before stepping into the crowd.

"HAH!" A crack…

The sound of ruffling clothing…

A sharp gasp…

"UWAAH!!" The body of Ito Yoshino crashed unceremoniously to the ground. Half-armored, the loud crash produced by the action caught the attention of the other students. Motoko quickly returned to a standby position, eyes poised for the slightest sign of counterattack.

"Ah, crap. Not so intense, hey?" He rubbed the back of his neck, using his shinai for support as he got to his feet. She relaxed somewhat, her hands drawn to maintain a sphere of control. Her cold expression was the opposite of what he had been hoping for. For the last week, he had been trying to get her to smile. Being a new student, it would have benefited him to befriend the strongest fighter, even if she was an outsider. Instead, what he got was severe criticism.

"You over extend your reach to the point where your body can't properly react to a sudden change in an opponent's flow," Motoko chided sternly. "You have to learn to read your own movements as well as your opponents. Being able to predict what I'm going to do next doesn't mean a thing if I can still outdo your reaction."

"Ah—s-sure… Whatever you say Aoyama-san."

"Heh! Looks like you drew the short straw again, Yoshino-kun." His instructor, Hozo Kashimoto, laughed semi-derisively. He bowed respectfully, receiving a hard slap on the back for his pains. "Well, she's always like that. Guess I'll be collecting that extra tuition then?"

In truth, he and some of his colleagues and made a bet. Motoko Aoyama, a famous student of the God's Cry school, was known for the cold, detached demeanor with which she carried herself. For reasons unknown even to himself, the very first day he met her, Ito had been infatuated with her. He certainly didn't expect her to take any real interest in him, but at the very least wanted her as a friend.

But he had been told it was impossible. The contest between he and his sensei had erupted to the point where he made the ultimatum to the man. If he won, he would get free lessons for one whole year. If he lost, Kashimoto would collect thirty percent extra from his current tuition.

As he packed up his things, the other boys threw out comments. These varied from praises to criticism, the effect generally being the same all around. The boy had a knack for the art, but lacked the devotion to completely grasp it. It would be a while before he could say that he really had any skill in swordsmanship.

He wasn't listening to any of it, though. His eyes were fixed to her femininely effeminate figure. The door jingled as it opened and closed, and she was gone.

"H-hey, wait up!"

Motoko paused in step and looked back. One of the students, a boy by the name of Ito Yoshino, took pace beside her. She continued walking after a brief acknowledgment of his presence.

"You're taking the tram home, right?" he asked. She raised an eyebrow.

"What of it?"

"Well," he adjusted his duffel bag over his shoulder, "I take the same way. I figured maybe I could ride with you today."

"And you need my permission to do so?"

"Uh…" He blushed. She held back a chuckle. He was amusing, in some ways. They stepped onto the platform together, just in time to see the tram rising over the slope. Ito watched with reverence Motoko's casual catch of the outer-railing. She watched him struggle to leap onto the back of the tram.

"Having fun, it would seem…"

His cheeks were red. He caught his breath and laughed, "Y-yeah, I always do that."

He found an empty seat, and looked up at her in mild surprise when she merely leaned on the outside of the vehicle, hanging precariously over the rails. "You aren't afraid of falling off?" he asked, still more amazed.

"Not really. I always do this," she said with a slight giggle.

He snapped his fingers, "Hey! I got you to laugh!"

"Isn't that what people do when one tells a joke?" She glanced at him with faint look of curiosity.

Ito shook his head and grinned. "It's just that you always seem so cold and emotionless. A lot of the guys at the dojo say you never laugh or smile." She tilted her head. "W-what I mean is," he panicked, afraid he might have said something he ought not to have, "It's just nicer when people smile, that's all."

"I suppose you have a point there," her eyes fell to Tokyo University building, far off in the distance. It seemed so far away, but she felt as though she could grasp it. She stretched her arm out as if to try, even though her fingers closed around air. "Still," she finished, "you won't beat me with a smile on your face."

"You've got me there…"

"Get some practice in before Monday and we'll spar some more. Good luck."

"Yeah, sure…" He sat back, feeling warm inside. A friendly conversation with the unsociable Motoko Aoyama; he pictured mentally the image of them walking alongside the trees in the middle of a park when it clicked. Suddenly, Ito leapt up and leaned over the edge. "Hey, wait a minute!" he cried.