Chapter 9

Takeshi could not understand the enigma that was Shuri.

Shuri Oak, son of the late Wakaba Oak, the former Field Marshal of the Barsburg army, acted like anything but an ideal leader. He was childish, puerile and incorrigibly petulant. Those were the words that Hyuuga had used to describe Ayanami's current Begleiter, and Takeshi could see why. Even just spending half an hour with the young man made Takeshi see why even Konatsu disregarded him as nothing but a fly to be swatted around. The pout on his lips stirred some odd form of resentment within Takeshi, a resentment he hadn't felt in a long time.

"I'm Ayanami's Begleiter! Papa said so!"

Takeshi so badly wanted to batter the ignorance out of the lad, even as he was led down the lifts to the analytic laboratories where Ayanami had promised him a look into his brain. It was inconvenient not remembering so much, especially when Konatsu tried so hard to piece together memories for him, pictures he didn't know had been taken, of him on warfronts that he barely recognised. Shuri had been going on and on about how he wouldn't let Takeshi take over his job as Ayanami's Begleiter, and how Takeshi could never do as good a job as himself. Takeshi could feel the edges of his fingernails digging into the hardened flesh of his palms, leaving long red welts where he had vented his frustration on. As soon as the lift doors opened a trooper stopped Shuri right in his tracks.

"You're not needed, Shuri-san. Please just leave Captain Takeshi in the laboratory and report back for your duties."

"You're telling me what to do?" the blonde-haired boy exclaimed indignantly, pushing the trooper roughly aside with a strength that belied his lithe frame. "I won't listen to the likes of you, troopers, bah!"

"It's okay, Shuri," Takeshi held his voice, looking at the trooper to make sure he was alright. His blood was beginning to boil, but he tried to take the shake out of his tone. "I can handle myself from here."

"No! I want in, and I'm going in!" Shuri took two long strides before he braked.

"Shuri-chan, report back to my office and help Konatsu with the paperwork. That is an order." Takeshi felt a chill run up his spine as he watched Shuri freeze. Ayanami stood, tall and proud with peak cap and sword at his waist. When he had spoken to Ayanami there had barely been a shard of ice in the Field Marshal's tone, but now Shuri looked like he was going to wet himself. Takeshi could feel an authoritative energy that cackled between the Begleiter and his superior, an energy that dared Shuri to rebel against the one man he was supposed to serve and aid.

"S-sir." The blonde boy slunk back into the lift, but all Takeshi saw was a shadow passing him by, and all he heard was the ding and woosh of the lift as it sent the teenager on his way. Suddenly the frost disappeared as Ayanami let out a sigh that seemed to settle the room back to normalcy. The trooper stood back at ease.

"That boy needs to learn, needs to stop being so foolish. Come, Takeshi. They've been waiting."

The laboratory smelled as it should: of bleach and alcohol and cleanliness. Instruments hummed in the background against the steady clap of Takeshi's boots. A man in a pristine white lab coat guided Takeshi into a bed chamber, instructing him to take his cloak and shirt off. He did so reluctantly, feeling the sting of sterile air against his skin and an uncomfortable dryness envelope him. The electrodes stuck comfortable on his body, too many for Takeshi to bother holding so that they wouldn't tangle. He saw a number on the screen shoot up with a sudden throb in his head as he caught a flash of Ayanami walking past the viewing panel, but the smile made him settle bad down into the recliner, staring at the unforgiving fluorescent lights that threatened to burn halos into his vision.

"Just relax, sir. It will be over in a jiffy."

The steady rhythm of beeps representing his pulse refused to slow. It was the only thing he could hear as he tuned out, ignoring the shuffling of feet and the bumps against drywall that went on in the palace of equipment outside. He could feel himself slipping, falling into an unrestful slumber as the beeps faded from his conscious thought…

"Moloch!"

His world turned blood red even in the darkness, yet Takeshi could see an island of black just beyond his reach. He tried to move his legs but felt them swim in jelly. The red breathed, murmured to him like as though it were an alien seeking to devour him. It pulsated with a heartbeat and unsettled Takeshi as he swam in gelatinous matter that he could not see, trying so hard to reach that solitary oasis of black, of rest. Something in his head told him it was important, that he had to run, he had to reach it or die.

"Moloch!"

The red breathed again, and this time he could feel it swimming up to his waist as he paddled, panicked. It constricted around his lower body even as he broke out into leaping through the mass that hindered him, feeling it soak through his pants, creeping up his bare torso, threatening to make him submit. He could just see the black, stretching his hand out to reach it, grunting in frustration even as he missed it by centimetres, or miles, he couldn't tell. The red lurched and squeezed.

"Answer me, Moloch!"

Takeshi found himself within the embrace of cool, black darkness, his pants surprisingly dry, free from the gel that had soaked him to the skin. There was no sign of the red around him – it had turned back to black beyond reason, beyond space. A large wooden chest seated itself prettily in front of him. Ornaments and symbols curved and snapped back in wooden shapes he could not recognise even as he looked for a seam in the box – there was no crack or clasp that he could pry open, but when he rapped his knuckles on it he heard an audible thud of hollowness and the clatter of something within. Takeshi found himself sitting there, breathing heavily, frustrated. Giving him a box with no opening was the equivalent of dangling a carrot where a rabbit could see and smell, but could never reach. He looked around for anything he could use to break through the wood, but came up empty handed, settling on sitting on top of the chest, wondering what he was doing.

"If you live, Moloch, answer me!"

Takeshi stood at the voice. He had heard it the first time, but saw no one else in the space around him, all shrouded in darkness. A voice the other day had called him by the name that was mentioned… was this thick, sunken voice calling for him? Breathing in, he staggered back at the bass of his voice, a voice that sang in pitches of angels and overtones beyond his comprehension, a voice he never knew belonged to him.

"I am here."

"Then it is done."

Takeshi pondered what the voice meant. What was done? What was there to do? His thoughts were interrupted when his back arched, the frisson of pain piercing his head as he heard something scream – whether man or machine he couldn't tell. He could see shapes fluttering about, voices yelling above the din, lights turning themselves on and off as the figures ghosted around the room. He felt the sharp jab of cool metal run through his arm, an ant bite to the crushing hurt that was tearing him apart. A shrill cry that he now knew belonged to him reverberated in the chamber, the lights blinking out as the darkness took him again. This time there was only pure shadow, without light, without red and in silence as Takeshi let himself drown in black, the anguish throbbing at the back of his head, swimming in the unconscious.

Teito had told Castor about the bracelets that had been clasped around Saar's hands, those that had the insignias and words casted into them, branding him warsfeil and dangerous. Castor had taken it all in calmly, fingers interlocked and resting his chin on the web of his hands, but Teito could feel his blood pumping, his heart beating at the prospect of getting the man back from the black hawks. He couldn't afford to lose a friend that he had finally come to get, a friend that he was just starting to get to know. Castor had then left the office, telling Teito that he would get the rest. Ouida had come running, bringing Teito down into the bowels of the church where he knew the Kor were kept for training. A door he had never opened revealed the four ghosts, Ouka and Hakuren staring at a screen.

"Where is he?" Teito didn't even other with honorifics as he strode in. "Hakuren? Ouka?" Slowly, they shifted their bodies aside, letting Teito take in a full view of its contents as his eyes glanced over the words and numbers that shifted every second, causing him to let out a less-than-satisfied "oh".

"District 1, Teito," Hakuren murmured. "And the Army Headquarters at that."

It was to be expected. Where else would the black hawks go to other than their stronghold? Teito was surprised that they hadn't already found a way to dispose of the bracelets if it were possible at all.

"We've already decided with Assistant Archibishop Castor," Ouka broke the silence. Teito noticed Hakuren giving her a pained look, but it wasn't anything she couldn't disregard as she jumped right in. "Hakuren and I will go help you find him, Teito. Only the both of us."

"No!" Teito saw them jump a little as he covered his mouth in embarrassment. "I'm coming too."

"You'll just attract Ayanami's attention, stupid," Frau knuckled Teito's head, as though the younger man's current status of a bishop provided no sense of equality in this situation. "You heard the lady – only the two of them."

Teito felt his mouth run dry. He couldn't argue with them: the only reason why Ayanami hadn't visited the church was because Teito would be free to let Mikhail take out a huge chunk of him. But in his own territory it was different. In the military academy Teito would have to prioritise stealth and cover over everything else. He would have to weave his way through the ranks, trying to locate Saar if Ayanami didn't find Teito first, then somehow smuggle Saar out of the complex without any prior intelligence on the situation whatsoever. Something burned in his chest as he opened his mouth to protest.

"I want to go." This was a feeble mew compared to his earlier outburst. "I want to see that he's alright."

"You know you can't Teito," Ouka held his hands, her warm fingers trailing over his cold, clammy hands. "You know they're after you."

"I…" all his resolve melted into nothingness. "I can't just sit here!"

"You won't just be sitting here," Hakuren stepped forward. "It's Monday tomorrow, Bishop Teito. You have duties calling."

It was the final nail in the coffin. Teito could only sigh and nod, turning his back to the party as the door clicked shut behind him. He considered all the options: leaving on his own would mean shirking his new duties. Perhaps he could stow himself away with the convoy, but the fact remained that Ayanami wanted him – wanted to eye of Mikhail and wanted to open Pandora's Box. The four ghosts wouldn't let it happen, not in a million years.

"Teito?"

He was about to pull the door open to his room when the voice made him turn on his heels. Ouida stood there, hands on his hips.

"Ouida?"

The fellow bishop let out a sigh, his ponytail swinging with the shake of his head.

"I'll cover your duties for you, Teito."

It took him a split second to realise what Ouida was implying. His eyes widened.

"But Ayanami…"

"Doesn't know that you are coming," Ouida pushed opened the door to Teito's room and drew him inside. "Teito, it's been two years. Who's to say you aren't strong enough to face him now? You know yourself, how hard you have been training, how strong you have become in the training that Saar has helped you with."

"Who's the say I am strong enough?" Teito looked out to the gardens below, watching beds of Cosmos dancing in the tease of lone zephyrs he couldn't see. "Ouida, with Ayanami, I can't afford to be rash. You know this as much as I do, and it was what all of them raised earlier."

Ouida glared at Teito, making the green-eyed bishop take a step back into the shadow, as if the dark could hide him from Ouida's judgemental stare. "That doesn't sound like the Teito Klein I met two years ago. The Teito Klein I knew would spring at any chance to get out of here. The Teito Klein I knew would drop everything he was doing for his friends." He pointed to Mikage, asleep on Teito's shoulder. The fyulong dragon represented so much to Teito – friendship beyond death, oaths, promises unfulfilled. He had promised to pull Saar out of the darkness, but he had yet to learn how to do it, and yet to actually do what Mikage had told him to do. "What happened, Teito?"

"The Teito you knew from two years ago isn't the Teito that's standing in front of you right now." Ouida shook his head at Teito's murmuring.

"You're wrong. He's still there," Ouida jabbed a finger at Teito's chest, where his heart lay. "He's still there, buried, waiting to be called upon. I can't change your mind Teito, not if you refuse to believe in yourself." The bishop sighed and walked out of the room, and as the door clicked shut Teito was left in the silence of the room, standing like as though nothing had ever happened, watching the sun set to golden rays streaming into his room. Somewhere, a bell began to chime, calling all but the mulling bishop to dinner as he let it go unheard, hearing only the voices that argued inside his head.

Takeshi walked in step with his guide, his mind so blank yet so full of questions, indecisive towards what state he should be in. Shuri took sideways glances at him but strangely refrained from talking. Takeshi could tell that the younger man was bursting at the seams with curiosity, and the need to ask something.

"What?"

Shuri jumped. "Nothing, sir." Takeshi sighed. There must have been something Ayanami did to Shuri, or at least something he said, that made the beglietier this jumpy. "Just a rumour floating around that I'm thinking about."

"What rumour?"

"That you're warsfeil!" Shuri let it slip without so much of a thought. Takeshi slowed his pace considerably, as if he couldn't afford the mental stress of comprehending the situation. "Are you really warsfeil, sir?"

"What, where did this rumour come from, Shuri?"

It was ridiculous. Konatsu had told him that warsfeil were never open acknowledged as being present in the Barsburg army. Yet, the black hawks were full of warsfeil, save Konatsu. What was so significant about him that he had to be picked out as a source of rumour? Shuri went on babbling about how someone told someone that he thought Takeshi was warsfeil because, well, he was in the black hawks and… the story went on. "But you know you can't use your magic in class or the exams, right? After all, it is an examination to test your physical and zaiphon proficiency."

"Yeah," Takeshi didn't seem to be able to get more than singular words out of his system, feeling his face harden. He hadn't been told anything but he didn't want to say anything about being warsfeil. He never liked being warsfeil, and it didn't help that everyone – or at least the vast majority of the human population – shied away from people like him when they knew. It wasn't something to be proud of, something to hold your head up high for. He could head the noise and yells of the students as they closed in the classrooms. Perhaps they were on break, or it was time in-between lessons, but he expected military students to be much more disciplined that what he could head between walls. Shuri waltzed into a classroom, not remembering to hold the door for Takeshi as the warsfeil caught up to hold it open for himself.

"Class alpha!"

That haughty, high-pitched voice grated the chaos of the class to a halt as twenty five pairs of eyes turned to stare at the door. Takeshi didn't feel like he was personally glaring at them, but that split second of silence had them realising their visitor was someone of high rank. A boy with the white thread knotted to a lanyard of the sergeant major position drew his hand up to a salute, the rest of the class following suit to pay their compliments. Takeshi looked at Shuri, but all he got was a blank stare and a blow of the lips. It took five seconds for Takeshi to realise that the class was greeting him, not Shuri.

"Good day gentlmen, at ease, carry on whatever it was that you were doing." The hands snapped back down as the students carried on with their play, albeit in measured tones. He caught them staring at his ranks and overheard snatches of their conversations, but they didn't seem to notice that he was watching and listening.

"What rank is that?"

"Captain, captain you idiot! How long have you been here?"

"But why thorns? I thought they usually had leaves or braids?"

"What formation is that?"

"Is he joining us for training?"

Takeshi turned and looked to find Shuri for conversation, but the spoiled child was long gone. After all, he was only meant to guide Takeshi to the classroom. He found an empty seat and placed himself there, his turn to watch the students in their place, in their natural habitat. Even so, he could feel themselves holding back, and it made him rather upset that he couldn't understand how these people behaved, couldn't discover how other people lived.

Remember, you're an officer, and almost on your way to a senior officer rank, Konatsu had told him earlier. Lots of people will pay compliments to you. The only ones who are higher up than you are those with the golden lanyards, but even then they wouldn't want to mess around with a black hawk. I like to greet them still, you know, just to appreciate their standing, what they've worked so hard for.

So will these cadets eventually be the future officers of the army? Takeshi still felt like as though he knew something from long ago that was somewhere in the depths of his head, things about the army he didn't realise he knew, but it felt odd like as though it were obscured by shroud and a wall he couldn't see. All he could do was to let his body submit to whatever sudden urges he felt, whatever he felt needed to be said, and Takeshi did not like to rely on feeling. Feelings were subjective, unreliable and terribly godforsaken treacherous.

Christ, why are there no trees in District 1?

Something in him missed the trees, a memory of wandering wild lands, taking from nature and giving back. I thought he remembered songs of lost lives and love, but brushed it away as a bell rang from somewhere, student scrambling back to their seats. Takeshi noticed one who stood in the corner, seemingly lost. He put two and two together.

"Is this your seat?"

"I-it's alright sir," the cadet stuttered. "You can take it."

"No, no, it's fine," Takeshi gestured as gently as he could make it. "Come on, sit down. Lesson's about to start I suppose."

"Are you taking us for today, sir?" The cadet sergeant major asked. Takeshi shook his head as he heard the door opened. "Lloyd sensei in the room, class greet, and salute!"

Takeshi stood at ease as the class bowed, greeting their teacher. So he was in the right place after all, but what he didn't expect was the wave of students who turned on heel at the call of an unexpected regulation pause – unexpected to him at least – and saluted him again, as even the teacher saluted him. It felt off, odd. He wanted to laugh as his arm flew up in return of the salute, cutting down neatly. He had practised it on Ayanami and the Field Marshal hadn't seemed to mind. Konatsu had commented it was very neat and precise too. "Carry on gentlemen, sir," his lips moved to feeling again, nodding to the teacher. This was too much formality in one day for him.

"Good day gentlemen," Lloyd started. "First, could someone so kindly get a chair for the senior officer at the back?" The class sergeant major ran out sheepishly even as Takeshi waved the offer away. The chair was brought to him, and the least he could do was to sit on it as he thanked the cadet. He couldn't help but stare at Lloyd's twin ponytails, the silvery white hair flailing like streams of a waterfall frozen to his knees and held as captives. The large, purplish eyes scanned the room.

"As you all know, we are having our final training today, your preliminaries, more like, in preparation for your final graduation examination on Friday." The murmur of acknowledgement rose. "And today we have with us Captain Takeshi Warren. He's on attachment by orders of the Field Marshal, so he will be watching you and taking the test as well. If you want to find out why, you can ask him yourself. Who knows, he might teach you some things I myself wouldn't know, or show you something special if you show some outstanding fights." Takeshi raised an eyebrow. Hyuuga hadn't told him of any evaluation or surprises, but he guessed anything he did later would be a surprise to the class and teacher.

"To the arena, shall we?"

The dragging of chairs clearly dismayed Lloyd, but he made no move to correct their behaviour as the students rushed out of the classroom, chattering excitedly. A few of them turned to look at Takeshi, then jumped back to face forward when he made eye contact with them. He tried to strike up a conversation on the way down to the arena. "So, who's your best fighter?"

"Jiro!" came the chorus of replies. Takeshi smiled as he spotted the single cringing face. "He can knock a person out with a string of zaiphon! He's super fast! He's really accurate with his ranged attacks!" Takeshi could filter some of the comments out as his grin grew wider. Lloyd bent over and spoke as they walked.

"He really is a splendid cadet at practical skills, though he has some problems in his focussing that he has yet to rectify until now."

"What, and why is that, Mister Lloyd?"

"He can't hold onto the form of his zaiphon. Sometimes when he's lucky, his summons will hold. Other times, they just fade like dust in the wind. I've tried everything from my ten years of experience, but it's not a problem that I've been able to solve." Jiro looked back. He knew that Lloyd-sensei was talking about him again and hung his head.

"I don't know how to change it, sir," he mumbled.

"Don't worry, just do your best. I just want to help with whatever I can," Takeshi told Jiro, speaking half to Lloyd. "I'm here more to let Ayanami-sama know that I can still fight after that… mission," Lloyd nodded knowledgeably and Jiro stared with puzzlement across his face, but Takeshi didn't think he should explain. "I'll just help if I can. No pressure, alright?" He placed a hand on the cadet's shoulder. Takeshi felt a jolt run up his spine as he froze.

Take his soul take it take it and spend it for the kingdom fill it with the three wishes and the deep blac-

Takeshi pulled like he had just touched hot iron, snapping his hand back to his side, forcing his stiff legs to watch. Lloyd said nothing, and Jiro just smiled, nodding his head as he ran off to the locker rooms in preparation for their fight in the arena. Takeshi shook his head as he pulled a pair of white gloves from his hands, but feeling cool metal in his pockets as well. He pulled out a pair of bracelets, matte silver and brushed smooth with workmanship he couldn't recognise. On it were inscribed words in a tongue he did not understand, but he thought it might have been a gift from Konatsu, and so he placed them back into his pocket, pulling his gloves on.

The arena was a huge dome of glass and metal webbing, the dirt floor seemingly primitive in its surroundings of concrete and steel. The glass bore not a single scratch, but there were plenty of pits and scratches in the dirt where he knew people had fought for their lives, whether voluntarily or not. Lloyd gestured for him to follow as they entered a corridor, Takeshi rapping his knuckles incessantly on the walls, hearing the muted ring of metal that was thick enough to stop a nuclear holocaust. A panel at the end of the corridor lit up, and Lloyd pressed a palm against it. Takeshi heard it sing and watched it flash a thousand colour as a seam in the wall appeared, showing the inside of the arena.

"You have to scan yours too, sir," Lloyd turned back before the door closed behind him. Takeshi grunted, pressing his palm impatiently against the sensor. Was it really that necessary to implement this impracticality? He joined Lloyd in the arena, scraping the floor with the sole of his boots, those that he had bothered to shine clear enough to see his teeth as he pulled a grin.

"Sir, if I may ask a question?"

"Go on, Lloyd," Takeshi felt odd addressing the senior man – senior in age – by his name, but if it was the convention then he would let it be. Lloyd seemed to have no issue with it.

"Why bother polishing your boots? Most cadet beglieters I know could care less after they commission. Even I don't bother," he gave a sour laugh. "Even I don't," he repeated, softer.

"I guess it's something drilled into me that I haven't forgotten, Lloyd-sensei," his eyes shifted to the first student. Takeshi pulled his gloves, making sure that they were tight.

The fights came hard and fast, Takeshi watching dust billow as students attempted to get past the wards that Lloyd put up for them, to destroy the projections that he summoned and chose. Takeshi's comments came in bursts, shouts from the fringes of the dome, and the occasional need for demonstration that he was sure Lloyd had done before, but was doing again anyway.

"Believe in yourself! Cast with conviction!

"Support your friends, that's the only thing that you can do in this situation and you'd better be damn good at doing it!

"Sharp as a blade, Sharp, not blunt like a hammer! Pierce, slice, slash! Speak the words if you have to and make it true!" he roared that last one at the student whose table he had taken. "Speak it, you know it!" His eyes trailed over the words of the zaiphon, too fast for the students to read on their own, but slow enough for Takeshi to read. He vaguely remembered Konatsu, the speed of his casting, the words that were still etched in his mind on one day that they had been training.

Brothers. Forever.

Takeshi's eyes trailed over Jiro's spells, barely keeping up with his movements but watching his zaiphon float away, drifting into the air two thirds of the time. Was the boy even concentrating? He looked dead into Jiro's eyes, forest green eyes that looked like they were about to burst into tears.

"Jiro!"

The student skidded to a halt as Takeshi slashed the projection in half with a sweep of his hand, walking towards the student.

"Come at me, Jiro."

Without warning, he saw a whip of zaiphon materialise from thin air. Takeshi stepped aside, but watched disappointingly as it flailed and evaporated back into the thin air that it once was. Jiro took a step back as Takeshi looked into his eyes, piercing him straight through the soul. There was something in him that he could see, something blocking him from progress, something that flashed through his mind.

Fear of failure.

"Jiro, do you love your parents?"

The cadet gave a slow nod, standing rigidly in the middle of the arena, not moving a muscle.

"Do you want them to be proud of you?" Takeshi's voice was quiet, but it carried through the arena, reverberating off the solid glass. "Do you want to see their joy when their son commissions as an officer of the Barsburg armed forces? Do you?"

"Yes, sir."

His eyes narrowed at Jiro again.

"Take a deep breath Jiro, and come at me."

At first the student looked unsure, taking a careful step towards the officer. But he ran toward Takeshi, letting out what seemed to be a war cry. That same whip of zaiphon glowed brighter blue as it struck out at Takeshi, as solid as steel as it smashed into the ground where Takeshi had been a split second earlier. A second and third followed in quick succession, causing earth to rise and pits to fall where energy touched dirt ground. Takeshi was dancing around, always maintaining eye contact with Jiro, watching the boy shape vicious blades in his hands, throwing them in a barrage of points that threatened to tear the captain apart. Takeshi swung his hands out, catching them square in his palms as they dissolved with his counterspells. He watched as Jiro flanked him from the side, letting out another yell, gathering his zaiphon into a ball as he pushed it point-blank, his face transforming to sudden surprise as Takeshi smiled.

"Good job, Jiro."

Sand flew and splashed against the transparent armour of the arena, Lloyd yelling for order as the students stared dumbfounded. Takeshi could hear the chant of the words that made the spell Jiro had unleashed above the bellow of the wind that flew past his ears.

I love you mom, dad.

Ouka shifted her eyes around, taking in the scenery of the Barsburg church for the last time. Everyone had gathered to send them off – Hakuren and herself – everyone that mattered. They had agreed that this was more of a reconnaissance mission than search and rescue. Ouka didn't even know why she was involved. She only knew the warsfeil from hearsay and second hand accounts, and Hakuren didn't know him either. But Teito's pleas for the both of them to take it up had stirred her heart, so much so that she found herself fascinated by this personality the bishop had so enthusiastically shared with her. It was funny to see Teito concerned about another person, but then again she had known him for the compassion he showed, compassion toward others, toward all.

"Are you ready, Ouka?" Hakuren had long since dispensed with the formalities toward the princess, since she had made it known that "your majesty" didn't feel appropriate and Hakuren had grown used to it over the years. "District 1… the military scientists won't be happy to be in your presence, but they can't touch you, and you know that."

"A diplomatic visit," she muttered to herself, staring at the back of her palm where she knew the eye of Raphael sat dormant, waiting for her to call upon the great archangel. She sometimes withdrew into her psyche, conversing with Raphael like they were the best of friends. Perhaps they were in a sense. Sometimes, leaning in the shoulder of a six-winged seraphim was the most comforting thing after a day of nightmare diplomacy and politics. She still hadn't abandoned her dreams of being a doctor. Raphael murmured to her.

I'm here, mistress. Don't be afraid. Verloren will not touch you.

She scanned the crowd a last time, half her mind already trying to think of the convoy, the routes they would take and the problems they might face, the things they would have to do to reach District 1 as soon as possible to catch Hohburg Fortress by surprise. She still couldn't sense, couldn't see Teito anywhere. Perhaps he was still sore at not being able to follow them to District 1. But it was unlike him to be so moody, so indignantly childish about this. She missed the innocent, feisty Teito that would fight for what he wanted. She saw bishop Lance waving, drawing a smile over her lips and waving back in return.

There was a sudden roar of air overhead as the party looked to the sky. A hawkzile screamed past the crowd, a man in commoner clothes riding the craft wit ha speed and precision that had been honed finely for years.

Teito!

Ouka shouted but the man didn't seem to notice as he sped past, drawing leaves and the wind around their robes, shrinking into the horizon. Ouka thought she saw a shred of a smile spread across Ouida's face, but when she blinked the bishop was back to his usual placid self. The imperial guards yelled, waving their lances, practically powerless to stop Teito – she was sure it was him – escaping from the church. What surprised her was the sight of the four ghosts, standing there, staring at the disappearing profile of the hawkzile and its rider. They did nothing to stop it, not a shred of zaiphon was used, not a single blade was drawn to call Teito back, and only stony, platonic silence buffeted Ouka's senses like the wind on her face.

"Was that… Teito?" Hakuren asked rather bewilderedly, his face stretched, nonplussed. "Did he just scramble on a hawkzile?"

"He did, Hakuren," Ouka smiled, reaching the door to their vehicle. "Yes, he did." That was the Teito she had grown to know over two years – the Teito that took matters into his own hands: brash, doing without much thinking to protect what was precious to him. Ouka felt a strange sense of joy envelop her as they pulled out of the church, while marble structures replaced by bright blue skies as she closed her eyes.

A/N: Well, I'm back from NaNoWriMo! It was a pretty okay month, though I think 50000 words weren't enough to finish what I started. No matter, I'm back on Oathbreaker now, and it's two in the morning here. That's how much I want this up for you guys to read. Chapter 10 is being edited as well, so hopefully (fingers crossed) it will be up by the stroke of the new year, maybe even earlier! Thank you all for your constant readership and reviews. Cookies for all, and in case Chapter 10 doesn't come out before the new year, Happy New Year!