Kurogane entered the arena, stepping out into the bright light and squinting as the crowd in the stands roared. The sun was hot, beating down on the sand and making him sweat under his armor. They roared again, this time as his masked opponent emerged from the opposite end of the arena and raised his spear aloft. Kurogane drew his sword and strode to the center of the ring, chin high. There was no way he was going to lose.

His opponent did the same, coming out to meet him in the center of the field. There was no referee to tell them when to start or stop – it began when they were ready, and ended when one of them went down. They stood there for a moment, sizing each other up, and then they began to move. Slowly at first, circling each other, making feints, testing the opponent's reactions and defense. The spear had the longer reach, but was flimsy and only the very point could hurt him, whereas his sword was all blade.

Kurogane grinned, taunted his opponent with words, but they remained silent – then attacked. He'd underestimated their speed, but quickly corrected himself. The armor bulked both of them down, and the full helmet his opponent wore would limit their sight. They thrust their spear at Kurogane several times, but he avoided them all, knocking the efforts away with his sword while trying to get in closer. Just when it seemed he had an opening, the point of the spear struck his exposed shoulder, but he didn't let the pain bother him. It slowed as it hit him, and he grabbed the shaft with his opposite hand and grinned – and as his opponent pulled, he hacked the shaft in half and threw the sharp end back at their feet in a gesture of contempt.

The crowd roared; they liked this. Seemingly unfazed, his opponent picked up the now-shortened spear and immediately went on the offense while Kurogane was still basking in the glory of the crowd. He reacted quickly, hacking at his opponent, cutting into their dominant arm. Blood ran, wet droplets in the sand. Kurogane taunted them, landing hit after hit with his blade on their arms and sides – nothing fatal, nothing deep, just enough to ache and draw blood and run them down slowly. They refused to give up, kept coming at him only to be beaten back.

After so much of this, Kurogane became bored of playing with his prey. The next cut was deep, settling into his opponent's shoulder, cutting through muscle and sinew. They dropped their weapon, staggered. The crowd roared in anticipation, and took up a chant which started small but grew into a swell.

"FINISH HIM!", they cried.

Kurogane was glad to oblige. He put up the point of his sword beneath their chin as they staggered backwards, fell. Kurogane stood over them, and with a grin of triumph, drove the point of his sword through their throat. The thunder of the crowd was deafening as he knelt down to unmask his conquest, to let them know the face and name of the loser.

It was Fai.

Kurogane froze as his breath caught and twisted in his chest and everything came crashing down around him into blackness. Fai's face – dead eye gazing at him, his mouth frozen in a smile – then nothing.

Kurogane woke in a cold sweat, heart hammering, gasping for the breath he'd held in. He rolled over on his side and propped himself up with one arm, wiping the sweat from his forehead with his free hand as he fought to put the memory out of his mind. It was impossible; it mocked him. Dream or no, he couldn't let it go on. He got up and walked quietly to the door of his room, opened it, looked out into the hallway. It was dark; no reason for anyone to be up at this hour. Kurogane told himself that it was only to check – just a quick peek in Fai's room to reassure himself that it had all been a dream, that he was still alive and breathing. He tiptoed down the hallway to Fai's door and eased it open slowly and carefully, listening all the while in case Fai decided to wake up and ask him what the hell he was doing sneaking around his room while he slept. With all the ninja-stealth he could muster he slipped into Fai's room and crossed the floor to his bed, getting close enough and pausing only long enough to see Fai's chest rise and fall. Reassured, he turned to leave. Just as he reached the door, though –

"What are you doing?"

Like a guilty child caught with his hand in the cookie jar, he froze, then after a moment turned around.

"Nothing."

"Creeping around my room in the middle of the night is not nothing," Fai scolded him, sitting up in bed.

New tactic: tell the truth. "I... had one of those dreams again. I just wanted to make sure you were all right. I'll go now."

Fai smiled, shook his head, and patted the covers beside him. "No, sit down and tell me about it."

Kurogane hesitated, took half a step back towards the door, then faltered.

"Get your ass over here and sit," Fai commanded him, and he did as he was told. "Now talk," Fai said once he'd gotten comfortable.

"I was in some sort of fighting arena, with a crowd watching. You – well, I didn't know it was you until the very end because you were wearing a mask – were my opponent. We fought, and I killed you. Then I took off the mask and saw it was you, and woke up."

"So you came in here to check and see that you hadn't killed me after all? How considerate," Fai finished with a smile, and mussed Kurogane's hair; Kurogane let him, this time. "All right, you can go now. Get some sleep. I'll still be here in the morning – I promise," Fai told him, and with a nod Kurogane stood up and left.

Once he was gone, Fai lay back down in bed and smiled to himself. This was much more like what he'd had in mind – throw Kurogane off-kilter, make him think it was real, disturb him enough that he'd do something like this. The part of him which cared was the most vulnerable; strike at that, and Fai could shake him to the core, rip his world apart at the seams... if he could bring himself to do it.