ooc: OHMYGOSH. I'm so sorry for the wait! I switched work schedules, and I ended up so tired I never had the chance to write. And when I did, it was on a side project I had just started...

But no more! I promise to write more regularly, as I adore this story. Thanks for the reviews, keep 'em comin' if you have any plot ideas. Because I'm kind of on a whim at this point with this bad boy.

14. Mamoru

"Make it quick."

The cold tone of Seika's voice cut through her apprentice like a blade. It was painstakingly clear she had yet to forget his advances a few days prior; even worse, she was still irate, and possibly violent. He'd been on the wrong end of her anger, and it had taken him weeks to recover - even with his healing abilities. And yet here he was, his chocolate eyes admiring her hungrily as she dipped a tattered cloth into a bowl of cool water, wringing it over her limbs and allowing the dried blood to streak from her skin.

"Would you like me to accompany you tomorrow, perhaps help you train...them." Mamoru made no effort to hide his distaste for the outsiders. Their arrival, coupled with his foolish behavior, had prevented him from seeing his mentor. In fact, she had been acting strange; the small one, Hiei, had captured much of her attention. The native could feel emotions, sense them like an energy field. And what he received from the her had only deepened his already growing hatred. It wasn't lust, or love, but simply respect. Tolerance. That was something nobody received from Seika.

In all of his years with her - he'd been her apprentice since he was a young boy - they'd managed some sort of relationship. It was something akin to a friendship, if she would ever allow it. And his harbored affections for her only continued to grow as he, too, grew larger and stronger. As a child, she had shown him a strange sense of compassion, and he knew she was capable of good. As he got older, he continued to be her favorite of any of the people, the only person she would speak with or spend time with, besides Ikari. But even then, there was never an acceptance or tolerance. It was just...business. And she was never afraid to let him know of it.

As if on cue, her face lightened to an almost dream-like quality. He dragged himself out of nostalgia. "Yes, I suppose you will be a much easier opponent for them." Temporarily, she returned to cleaning her wounds. She didn't wince as she picked debris from within them, causing fresh blood to spill onto the dirt. He watched with fascination. "I wear them out far too quickly for them to learn anything. They're strong, but uncoordinated."

Mamoru watched with intensity; she was all creamy skin, feminine curve. A rough hand skirted through his deep brown locks, and his mind went blank. Incredible.

"Is that all?" Seika asked, without looking in his direction. A small hum of a tune had erupted from her throat, breaking the silence he hadn't realized existed.

"Uhm...no. About-" Before he could finish, the air in the room switched. Yet again, it was ice and malice. Sadistic. He'd been a fool to make light of his crush; the same crush, in fact, that every man in their village felt for their warrior goddess. She was the epitome of beauty, grace and ferocity. Could she really blame him?

"I am your ancestor, your elder, and I will outlive your disgraceful body." She began, dropping the cloth into the bowl of water and standing. If her wounds bothered her, she paid it no mind, and crept towards him until they stood face to face. "I could kill you in an instant. You are not my equal, nor are you worthy of my affections. You are a bug beneath my shoe, one I must tolerate to appease my chief and my people." Her words were like daggers, but he loved the pain. At least in this he was given her full attention, given closeness. He desperately wanted to reach out and touch her, drawn in like a moth to a flame.

"I know." He whispered, breathlessly. Beneath his tanned-and-tattooed skin, his muscles rippled. He'd gotten sinewy over the years during their battles, and had more than his fair share of scars. She had been ruthless at times. The skin of their legs touched, as he too wore a loin to cover himself in the summer months. Their close proximity was intoxicating to him, and he took a sharp inhale of her medicine pouch, coupled with the smell of her blood. That was something he was used to, and it edged some of the pain from her insults away. She must have noticed his demeanor, because her eyes narrowed onto him.

"I do not know of love, foolish boy. I know of war, and I know of suffering. Rid yourself of unwanted fantasties." The sheer intensity of her anger cascaded into waves around them, so strong Mamoru swore he could nearly see them. If he knew of anything, it was emotions, and she was always true to hers. His heart sank, although lust kept him locked in place. He was even more attracted to her when she was angry, as if she created some magnetic force.

Inwardly, he agreed with her, though. He was not worthy of her affections, let alone her apprenticeship. I am weak...a man of emotion, where she feels none. I am a masochist, and I simply revel in her attacks. She desires - no, deserves - a brute, an alpha male... The native's mind trailed unhappily to an image of Hiei. Small in stature, perhaps, but of the same ruthless and bloodthirsty demeanor. They were of the same breed. It sickened him.

Her teeth barred for a moment at him, muscles taut with a possible blow that he was entirely too sure he deserved. To his surprise, she instead backed down, and returned to her perch on the windowsill.

"Go." Was her last utterance, mismatched eyes no longer focused on the man before her. His mood only darkened, and he nodded curtly, despite wanting to say and do so many other things. They would have to wait.

"Rest well." He muttered, exiting her hut and the dim light that she'd held inside it. Anger, disappointment, betrayal...so many emotions flooded into Mamoru, and momentarily, he felt he may burst.

"Hiei." He hissed into the darkness, brushing back again his unruly brown hair. Silently, he vowed to destroy the wretch their next training day. He had watched their fights - more than one, in fact - and he knew what he was up against. The little man was strong, but nothing he hadn't faced before. Seika had been a fantastic teacher. His feet moved beneath him, bare on the cool Earth, and eventually led him to eavesdrop outside of the outsiders' hut. Covering his own energy signature, he moved silently until he sat beneath their window, back flat against the hut.

He found himself doing this often, keeping tabs on their movements. Ever since Seika had disappeared to meet them, he'd he felt the need to track their whereabouts. The native couldn't stand to trust them; not when he'd felt...that...between Seika and Hiei immediately. He'd seen the red-haired boy, Kurama, sneaking around the village the other night. For his own sake, he'd stayed away from Ikari's personal hut. Had he headed that way, Mamoru would have had no choice but to kill him.

That much Seika had gotten through to him.

Nosy.

He huffed mentally, then strained his ears to listen in.

"You ought to thank her, Hiei. She saved your life." Kurama.

"Hn. And broke her own rules. She said no mercy. Perhaps you should look up the definition again." The runt. Anger seethed from him at the very sound of his voice.

"What good are you dead? I feel like you're trying to prove something." Kurama. There was silence afterwards.

Good. Shut the fool right up.

"I will not have her make a fool of me!" The words exploded from Hiei. "I need not be coddled, or pitied...constantly she mocks me with these things!" Mamoru let out a silent snicker, pleased with his fury. At least he wasn't the only one.

"She's a legend, like you or myself, Hiei. I don't know what you expect, other than to learn. There's a lot she can teach you. But if you're going to be ignorant about it, then you won't learn a thing." Kurama's words must have surprised Hiei, because he could feel more anger surfacing.

After a long moment of silence and mixed emotions, Hiei spoke, quietly. "I hate her. The amount of skill...her prowess...it is..." He could not finish the sentence. A feeling betrayed the demon's usually callous nature.

Admiration, adoration...or was it...?

Mamoru found himself sneaking away from the window now, unable to contain himself. Unwanted images splashed into his mind, mostly of Hiei and Seika in embrace. Were these on his mind? Or one of theirs? He couldn't decipher it, and didn't rather care. But he was sure of his own intentions.

Hiei must die.