The dirt street was dark and damp. Either mist or light rain had softened the hard skin of the road, or the mist had hung low enough to erode at the tough dirt. The patrolling soldiers didn't care, and those starting to awaken, to leave for the fields under the protective gaze of their guards or just to begin the town gossip were used to the morning. But stepping out briskly from the inn, Sir Integra Hellsing was not. Mist and rain was common for England, but it was the stillness that made her uneasy. Even in the British countryside, she always felt movement. Either it be Walter cleaning, Seras and Alucard arguing about non-human politics, or a distant car or truck rumbling by, there was something stirring that impacted the very ground.

Integra glanced around, looking at the serenity. A lump materialized inside her throat, but she fought it back. She had never, not once, seen or felt such tranquility. And by her very being there she threatened it all.

The first step she took from the platform from the inn surprised her. The gravel scraped loudly, echoing throughout the town. It actually caused her pause, something as minute as a footstep stalled her. Something so small caused such a loud racket. Yet she allowed herself another step, fully on the ground. She felt a nip of cold air creep up the jacket sleeve, and she was pleased with her own reasoning of clothing. Away she moved from the Inn, watching the soldiers eye her with suspicion and scrutiny, like she was a stray dog, or a person with a rare disease.

"Excuse me…" Integra turned, hearing the small frail voice. To her bemusement, she had to turn herself down to a trio of small children.

"Yes? How can I help you?" she asked politely. The closest girl blinked, apparently in surprise. Yet she took a step closer to Integra, peering at her face. "If you don't need anything, I need to be-" Integra continued awkwardly. She never had been taught how to interact with children.

"Are you really a girl?" the leader of the trio asked without shame. Integra stood fully up, taken aback and spluttering.

"E-excuse me!" she demanded.

"Well," a smaller, shorter haired girl almost whispered," you stand and talk like a man…"

"But your hair is like a girls!" the leader exclaimed giddily.

Integra stared at them, her mouth slightly open. "Yes I am a women, now if you don't mind," Integra stated, turning away as the three girls parents showed up to escort them away from the dangerous stranger. She had said her words passively, tossing their observations aside like a dirty rag, of no importance. She had been taught that gender is nothing in a world like this on.

You see Integra, her father once said, now a ghostly commandment in her memory, we are all born into this world- by gods will or our parents, we are born here. The choices we make decide who we are, and some become stronger, and other weaker. Yet, he had paused, his cigar embers falling away as his eyes were filled with that powerful stare, we are all still born. Which means, as a rule of the universe, at some point we must die. And to make it worse, we are given the powers to take lives away... It sounds like god wasn't very smart, was he? He asked her.

But father, she pleaded, a much younger and innocent girl sitting across from her father in his work room, vampires were people, and they may never die.

Perhaps, he responded, as the Modern Day Integra found herself looking at the broken gate, but this brings me to one of the most important things you can ever remember. We are all born.

I don't understand, she said after a moment of trying to understand still.

Let me ask you, Integra… the worst, most horrendous monsters known were, once, human. If all things human can die, this means that even monsters can be vanquished. So what am I saying, my dear?

It had taken her a moment to guess the answer, but Integra smiled now, passing under the still rebuilding gate as she recalled the anwser. "We are all equal in some way."

Correct, her father said to the same answer years ago, and that means, regardless of what people say about you, or me, or Walter, or anyone, we are all equal. And in this world, where there is light there is dark; meaning that each and every human on this planet is capable of becoming as great as leaders, fighters, poets, inventors as there has been in our time. I want you to remember this. This, you will find one day is very true…

She had cleared the gate, and was now at the battlefield she had been less than a day before. The scars were still present, broken swords and pieces of armor were scattered like trash. The incisions the dragon had made, along with the others, had changed the landscape into an obstacle course of rocks, mounds of dirt, and torn hills. Her eyes traveled past, peering into the forest from where she had taken her new troop and come here.

"God… if this was just that girl's power, assuming this Naraku is truly the most powerful…" she frowned in thought, trying to comprehend the damage that might be caused if they attack with full force. But her ears caught footsteps coming behind her, rhythmic, perfectly timed footsteps belonging to a large boot. "Alucard, what is it?"

"I… must protest this action," Alucard started levelly.

"We spoke already, and I have decided on my actions. You, servant, are made to follow my orders without question, so I suggest you do so," Integra still didn't face him, her cold words matching the morning well. Alucard didn't speak for a moment, yet his steps continued until he was next to her, where he stood.

"If I am to leave you, your chance of being harmed is much larger than that with me here, and the police girl-"

"You and Seras are so weakened now that you two could be considered run of the mill vampires. If I were to let you stay it would do little good than that of delaying a momentary death-"

"Integra," Alucard interrupted. The action had her actually turn to him, and he to stare at her, however still faced forward. "This is a risk that should not be… even if you just send me, the police girl will be able to fight well on her own… but sending us both would leave you in the open… and if Tower's finds out about it, then we may loose this in one night…"

Integra listened to him. She was angry, if not pissed at being interrupted by her own servant and weapon, but Alucard spoke reason, something that should be kept closely; he rarely used it. If Alucard did go, Hellsing's greatest assets, regardless of their strength at the moment, would be useless for a day. Hellsings' power would be diced if they were attacked. Yet, her argument still proved stronger.

"Alucard… if you stay here, along with Seras, there is a possibility you will be permanently erased, something that I can not, and will not, stand for."

"Master, I would rather die by your side than-"

"ALUCARD! We are going to WIN this!" she growled, now making him turn to her. "And if you and the police girl and destroyed, there goes a portion of Hellsing's fighting force! We become on par with Iscariot again, and they are practically nothing. The modern era will be at the mercy to those who we fight against…" she stared at him, a moment of silence while she felt his eyes on her," and I have soldiers here who can defend me well. Walter is well accomplished at doing this, and Mercer and Kennedy are no simple fighters either."

Alucard snorted. "Walter is aging… you can see it in him… and as for Mercer, his ability to defend is not amazing."

"Zohall and Leon fight well together," Integra rebuked," and so can I. Not only that, but we have the children who can fight as well… I wouldn't call them weak either-"

"Master, Integra," Alucard started again, seemingly pleading," send myself or Seras, not both… at least let one of us be present to-"

"I told you I had decided… now, do not question me again, understood?" Integra barked. Her breaths were short and quick, and she glared at his glasses, peering at the barley visible glowing eyes underneath. His face had not changed from concerned, but had drooped slightly, a possible disappointment of not being able to convince his master otherwise. Yet her eyes pierced his until he recollected himself and switched to look at the woods.

"… understood, my master."

"I cannot have my agents, human or otherwise disobeying my orders any more. This has gone on for far enough…" she turned, her eyes peering back at a slowly dawning day. "Seras will be here soon, correct?"

"She had something she wanted to do before leaving," Alucard said with ease, scratching his chin in lack of caring.

Zohall peered into the mirror he mounted on the wall. Taken from supplies they had brought, the square mirror had him struggling to use the crude knife borrowed from the inn keepers. Its dullness did little than provide the rough sound of growing beard refusing to be cut. Grunting, he placed it down, and considered his other option.

"Heh, why not," he shrugged as he grabbed his sword from the couch, next to a sleeping Leon, and move over to mirror again, and began to save off that beard once again, with much ease. The large five foot sword however was heavier than a razor, and much harder to move slowly across the face, and a little twitch of the hand made a small cut across his face. Scowling at the pain, he splashed what should have been clean water in his face, moving away from the mirror just for a moment. Deciding to hold Gleam by the blade rather than the handle, he moved back to the mirror, ready to continue with the other unclean half.

"Zohall…" the ghostly voice from his memory teased, causing him to toss gleam away in panic. He glanced around, his eyes wide as they were in the mirror. Only a night ago did he hear that voice, from a silky, seductive and determined woman who wanted his power. But this was no dream, he was sure. The way he had been acting since he got, Leon's snoring, everything pointed to the real world. Yet… "Behind you dear." He was facing away from the wall, and a cold shiver went down his spine at the realization that the voice called him to the mirror. Yet, fear or some strange curiosity drove him to turn around, and he found the reflection.

But it was not a reflection of himself that peered back from the mirror. Tsunami was looking at him cleverly, holding the sides of the mirror like she were looking through a small window.

"Hello, Zohall dear," she said, once again in the seductive tone. This sound drove all questions he might have had for her, and rather fueled his want for her to leave.

"Get lost," he growled, remaining where he was.

"Aww… not a very good way to start a conversation-"

"I told you GET LOST." His stronger words put a pause in her beauty, she looked disgruntled venomous, like a spider dealing with a particularly stubborn fly ," I told you I am not interested in whatever you have to say-" Yet she recovered, with an equally poisonous smile that caught him off guard.

"I would listen to my words, considering you no longer can… toss me aside," she said, taking a step away from the internal frame of the mirror to examine her nails. "You see, I realized that you had little comprehension for what it is you can do, but not at the level where you are… you don't even know how to activate the Source yet…"

"Just shut the hell up already," Zohall growled, peering at the ghostly image," I don't care about these damn powers if they come with a 'surprise package' from a little annoying peice of-" she held up a hand to his insults, and he found himself silent for a moment.

"You want to know how I came here? Well… the ability to enter the source is inside us all… but for you, it's so easy that you can subconsciously do it. Yet, you have no idea HOW to… which allows a neat little," she felt the interior sides of the mirror," window for me. And I now realize that the source is so strong inside you that what is already present can enter inside your very mind, as long as they have the will and persistence. So… the offer is done, like I said. But rather, I'll simply watch your every move from your very own reflection."

Zohall blinked, trying to comprehend again all this new information. It was too much; the source, the dream world was 'easy' to enter? He hadn't even comprehended a method to actually going to that place, let alone with the actual desire to. And now, somehow, this woman had found a way to get at him without him even being asleep?

"I'm not interested in listening to you," he said again, trying to keep himself calm and level. This seemed to work for a moment, as her eyes narrowed and her lips curled angrily. Yet, she giggled and it caused his own lips to curl in disgust. He officially hated that sound.

"I see… not interested in this woman, are we? Well…" she paused with a thoughtful stare," I am speaking from inside you; I will eventually take that form from you… I might as well get used to it," she said, and before he could ask what she was doing, she tossed her head over, throwing her long black hair in front of the mirror for a moment. The long strands caught the mirror, and slowly slid off, revealing a character that looked like she had come from the movie the Ring. Yet, as the woman slowly raised her head, the hair seemed to fall away, as if the scalp itself was a wig being pulled away by gravity, revealing other colors underneath. Eventually the black hair was peeled away, and shoulder length, spiky blond hair peered back at him.

She had taken to his body. His entire form was that of a normal mirror, but the only difference was the eyes- a purple pink mixture. Amazingly, the new figure seemed to be feeling up the body, checking it's every feature. Finally it sighed, and said," just like I had hoped," in his own voice. And it was his voice, calling out to him that really scared him. It was not some other entity, it was his voice. It was like she was now molesting his body and his voice; his soul.

"Get the hell away," he growled angrily.

"Hey, hey… chill out!" the doppelganger laughed bitterly at the transfixed victim. "you know, this body isn't that much better than my previous… but I certainly has its benefits. I'll be much more adapt when the time comes again-"

"What do you want?" Zohall finally muttered, ready to do just about anything to get this creature away from him. The Zohall look alike stared back at him, taking on a more serious look.

"It no longer concerns you. I've already won this fight you know."

"E-excuse me?"

"You heard me," Tsunami said through his voice, taking a step closer to the mirror," I never need your permission, or now I see, to enter your mind… or else, how could I be here?"

"So… your fucking causing me to see shit in the mirror? Ha!" Zohall bitterly laughed, and took several steps aside, and passed away from the mirror. The image followed naturally, and the creature was left behind once he could no longer see his reflection. "Lets see how you like being-"

"Mirrors," said a dimmer reflection from a closed window," are not the only thing you get to see yourself in, dumbass. Oh, I liked saying that… dumbass, dumbass-"

"Goddamnit, leave me alone!" Zohall groaned with frustration. Tsunami turned back to him, no longer self absorbed with the new body and voice, and stared at him.

"You really don't get it, do you?"

"What the- forget it," Zohall said again firmly, and turned away from that window, and into another, closer window," FUUCK."

"This isn't my mind you idiot, this is yours. You have control over everything inside it… right?" the mirror image said cheekily. "Don't you? Or are you insane? Lost in your own mind maybe? Or are you just going insane," the clone from hell hissed with radioactive evil. "So… if I am inside your mind, something you control… shouldn't you be able to reject me?"

"…get out."

"Or is it possible that you actually are in self denial," Tsunami hurried, its eyes glowing in excitement," maybe you WANT me to be here and convince you that you actually want what I offered-"

"Go to hell!" Leon grunted lightly behind Zohall, barely catching his attention. "Like I would ever even want to hear you!"

"Like I said, this is YOUR MIND!" the reflection roared back at the surprised man. "how can I even talk to you… if you have total control over yourself? Which means, if you had half a brain cell inside you, I can only forcedly talk to you because you don't!" Zohall couldn't believe what he was listening to. If he didn't know better, he would have guessed he was going mad. Talking to his mirror image, who argued back at him that he was not in control over himself, and told him that the image would control the body soon? It was a physiological nightmare entangled in a weed of surrealism. "oh… you finally see it then," Tsunami said gently," that in your own mind… I rule-" Zohall took two long steps to the mirror, and without hesitation punched it hard.

Echoes of falling glass drowned the words reverberating in his mind. He had won this battle… but he had cut up his hand. Trying not to focus on the blood as much as the actual wounds, he fumbled in his travel bag for a clean shirt, and wrapped it around his knuckles, groaning. Yet all this activity had not gone unnoticed.

"Hey… what happened?" Leon sleepily poked, struggling to find balance enough to rise up.

"… nothing," Zohall quietly said, looking at the broken mirror. Yet from the corner of his eye though he spotted more reflections in the glass filled window, which seemed to swim in the glass itself two struggling images fighting for supremacy. He hadn't really won; he just beat her back for a moment.

"Don't bullshit me Zohall… Jesus, you couldn't sell me that one even if you didn't have a blood dripping rag tired around your hand."

"What?" Zohall glanced down, spotting the blood on the floor above his wounded hand. "Damnit," growling he grasped the end, and pulled it tighter, grunting a little. "It's a shirt actually."

"Someone attack? I thought I heard a window break…" Leon finally stood up, and in his changing stance spotted the broken mirror. "Hu… seven years bad luck for that…" rubbing his head, Leon blinked twice, and suddenly realized a miracle. "Wow… no hangover."

"That's just because Integra ate it all up," Zohall grunted as he walked over to sit by the couch. "Count your blessings though, I guess she's letting us walk away without an inquisition for a while."

"Hu? What for?"

"She doesn't want you to drink anymore."

"Ohh… oh yeah, I guess that little information never is put in the resume, is it?" Leon nodded thoughtfully, deciding to sit next to Zohall, collapsing easily. Groaning, he noticed the small cut on his face and his half shaved face. "You look great."

"Gay," Zohall immediately retorted.

"Yeah? Who's come up with new fashion senses, like shaving only half your face?"

"Wha- oh yeah," Zohall remembered why he had taken his mirror out in the first place, feeling his perfectly clean face on one side, and then the unclean cheeks on the other. "Godamnit… now I can't shave," He realized with one of his hands temporarily out of commission.

"Why did you break the mirror anyway? Not liking what you saw?" Leon asked jokingly. Zohall's sudden reaction made Leon's thought process fall off track. Zohall convulsed violently, whipped his head at him, his eyes wide with shock and face white, and looked away. "Zohall? What's up man?" The Younger man shook his head, the long bangs of hair swaying back and forth while he shivered again.

"I… I think I'm really loosing it," Zohall darkly said. His eyes stuck to the floor.

"Really?" Leon nodded, uncertain what lay inside this coming conversation.

"Ever since I came here, ever since Hellsing, I've been having those dreams," Zohall started distantly, thinking about everything that had happened," Dreams that I can't explain. It seemed like just normal weird ass dreams at first, you know? But… that changed over time. The same things happened again and again, but they weren't the same at the… same time- look it know it's confusing," Zohall sighed deflated as Leon squinted his eyes in confusion," just bare with me ok?"

"Talk away," Leon answered faithfully.

"Ok… and its been getting weird and weirder. It was voices first, then the owner of the voices, who has an owner. I still don't understand why I have these dreams yet. And now… I'm getting new ones," Zohall could not help but glance at a piece of broken glass, to where in his horror, the grinning and maddening image of his look alike stared back. "This new person in my dreams… it wants to control me." If the statement 'I think I'm loosing it,' didn't cause Leon to worry about his long time makeshift younger brother, this slice of bitter pie did.

"This person wants to control you, like, manipulate you?"

"I… honestly don't know. All it know is that…" Zohall once again dared himself a peek at the mirror fragments, only to quickly look away," I sometimes can't look at my reflection without seeing that person." Leon's eyebrows, which had been level throughout his speech, finally rose. In the years where Leon had been instructed to be a police officer, he would have had the man standing before him confined. Zohall really sounded as if he was loosing it; going bonkers.

"Hey, Zohall," Leon decided after a harsh moment or two of silence," I don't really care what you decide to do as long as it's… you know, 'good'. And after this, if you really want to leave Hellsing… that's ok."

Zohall laughed softly," I don't think the problem is Hellsing."

"Then what is the problem?" Leon asked earnestly.

"I-" a creaking footstep shut his mouth as he spotted Seras coming though the doors," I'll tell you when I find out."

"Find out what?" Seras asked innocently as she walked over.

"Eh…" Leon considered," nothing much. Guy stuff, you know…" He nodded as he tried to fool the young vampire. Zohall took the opportunity to grasp his shaver again, and try the blunt and less effective way, moving to the window now.

"Sorry for interrupting- what happened to the mirror?" Seras spotted the shining sparkles on the ground. For this, Leon had no answer, and looked to Zohall for help.

"Accidentally dropped it. Was trying to move it," the shaving man said, looking suddenly pained as he stared at his reflection.

"Oh… well, I was looking to talk to you, Leon," Seras began again, halting in front of Leon.

"Sure, what is it?" He responded, giving Zohall on more cautious look that he made sure to mask as a scornful shaking of the head for breaking the mirror.

"Well… its just that, I am leaving soon," she said dumbly, looking into his face hopefully, almost asking him to understand. "And… uhh…" she began to struggle for the right sentence to allow escape from her lips. Yet in her editorial in her mind, nothing she could have said seemed innocent enough to hide something she wanted to deny for now.

"Is something happening?" He asked her. She had began to sweat gently, and breath gently but more frequently. Either this was something natural, or she still needed to breath even as a vampire, Leon wasn't sure. But she began to recollect herself, and took on deep intake of air, sniffing the room. And then she gasped, her eyes going deep red. In realization, she clasped a hand to her mouth and nostrils.

"B-blood!" she trembled, glancing at the floor at the nearby drips of fresh blood. Leon's eyes followed her gaze, and then to Zohall, who's hand was clenched hard as he stared at the window. "Someone… who's bleeding?"

"Kid?" Leon asked, worried about a possible threat. Seras needed rest, or as Integra said, a fresh dose of blood. While it wouldn't help her apparently, Leon new to well what happened to the mind of someone who's been deprived of something. That blood to Seras must smell ten times better than normal, and so he checked her, stepping slightly in front of her. He would not be able to hold back a raging vampire, but the sight of an ally could prevent the bloodshed. "Seras, just stay put… Kid?" he asked again, now disturbed at Zohall's glare at his own reflection. To Leon, he was just growling at himself, who returned the similar look. But he had not seen Zohall like this, let alone to himself. "Kid! ZOHALL!"

"WHAT!" Zohall shouted back, tearing himself away from the window to shout back at Leon. The snarling shout was enough to shake Seras from her trance, but the effects further scared Leon.

"Hey…" Leon started, taking a small step forward, his hands raised in peace. Yet Zohall gripped the wrapped shirt and tightened it, and stormed past him.

"Go ahead and talk! I'll not 'disturb you two' or anything like that!" he called as he marched downstairs and out of the building.

"What… What was that?" Seras asked tenderly to Leon. She had been shaken at his sudden outburst, and was even more worried about Leon's stillness. He hadn't so much as blinked since Zohall almost pushed him out of the way to leave. "Did you two have a fight?"

"No… I don't think we did," Leon said shaking as he tried to imagine what was going though Zohall's mind. Now, more than ever, he was worried for his foster brother. "You… you wanted something, Seras?" he asked sadly as he turned to her. It took her again a moment to filer what she could and could not say. Finally though, she swallowed her pride and came up with a sentence or two.

"I want you… erm," she mumbled.

"Yes?" he tried to help her with her words.

"J-just… be careful!" she blurted out very suddenly and loudly. As she stood there, Leon slowly had one of his eyebrows raise up, and Seras's face flushed. "I, well… Good luck, Leon!" she said, and quickly spun away.

"Hey, Seras," he spoke just as she reached the stairs. Fired on from a sudden flutter of feeling in her chest, she turned quickly; fast enough for her to loose her footing and collapse back. He moved quick, caught her, and held her steadily, grabbing her hand as it flailed about and pulled her back straight. "Thanks, and be careful yourself." Seras could only bear to look up into his face once for a moment, before ducking her eyes away and moving down the stairs faster, almost slipping again. If she had been 'alive' her cheeks would have flared up at his touch on her hands. Yet… as she touched her face, she felt flushed enough to color a rose.

Zohall marched through the streets. He had nearly run over Inuyasha, who had become infuriated enough that only Kagome's order to sit could halt his attack. Zohall was furious. For merely twenty seconds he had to endure that things rant without so much as a retort. Yet for all he knew, it was just him yelling at himself. He knew it wasn't the case, but at the same time, he was having trouble fully understand anymore what was 'real' and what was not. But as he stormed through the dirty streets now inhabited by villagers and guards, he failed to realized that as he walked many avoided his very direction.

"They're all scared of you, you know that?" the voice came from his left, and his eyes darted through a small cluster of young woman and to the window behind them, where his shape shifting enemy mocked him by not using his own current position, dancing around happily, weaving around passing reflections of villagers. As he stared, the group of women noticed, and retreated away, frightened by his dark eyes.

"Shut up," he breathed, and move away, stomping the ground in each step. This constant step and rock did not drown out the words of his internal bastard enemy, yet it did slowly draw the attention of the guards, who pointed at him, and smiled at one another, mocking the strange foreigner.

"Hey, swordsman!" One called within a group," you loose a bet with the rocks today?" He did as much to ignore them, yet their laughter had him stop and turn, his deadly eyes peering at them.

"Ohh… look at him, that's not a nice way to look at a soldier," another said as they chuckled at his reproachful gaze. Villagers made sure to clear a good twenty feet from the newcomer to the town, also avoiding the now advancing gaurds.

"Back. Off." Zohall growled with as much purpose as he could. He didn't want a fight.

"Oh come on, just kill them," the voice called from a small mirror by a shop. "they're just guards."

"You aren't ordering us to do anything, are you?" One with a spear said, lowing his weapon just under his chin.

"I think he is…" another said laughing.

Zohall's mind grew tired of this, and came up with the most logical way out. Ducking away from the spear, he weaved forward, breaking the weapon from the guards grasp, spinning it around, and smashing it as hard as he could on the man's head, knocking him over backwards.

"HEY! GET HIM!" another shouted, as the others drew their swords.

"Bring it," Zohall growled, mentally noting not to kill any of them without good reason.

"Look at them," a villager from the newly formed circle said to the other locals. "They outnumber the poor young man-"

"Don't feel sorry for him," another said," Dirty damn outsider-" the spear that Zohall had used for a few parries 'accidentally' flew just past the speaker's shoulder and stuck in a column of wood. The balding speaker cried in surprised and moved aside from the weapon.

"That was a quick disarming," a younger, self-assured man mentioned, pushing himself to the front of the crowd. He wore a long purple robe, with a blacksmith apron atop it, well decorated with various herbs, all surprisingly un-scorched considering the use he put the apron to.

"Uchideshi," the first speaker said, a man with thin eyelids and a relaxed disposition," what will happen? Will the guards kill him?"f

"Obviously not, if they have half the intelligence they need to hold a sword well. They'll just beat him to the ground and then leave him there. After all, that man is now friends with the lord," the young, sharp looking Uchideshi spoke with firm words and calculating tones. His words was cold as his eyes, but his gaze was transfixed by the fighter. The blond man moved with speeds that easily out-matched the now six guards he fought. And now totally unarmed, being that he had no sword with him he was easily tossing one or two aside while then engaging and avoiding the others. He couldn't believe it, but this guy was beating down six Guards of the lord himself.

"Who is this man?" A woman cooed in the crowd while the others mumbled and gasped at his ability.

"Zohall…" Uchideshi whispered, his eyes opening in realization that he had sat next to the same man the night before. "So, this is who you are."

"Urragh!" the last standing Guard was easily thrown down into the gravel, face first, like all his comrades.

"Anyone else want to pick on me!" Zohall called out, challenging the others to try anything, waving his hand out readily, now in the mood to fight. It made him feel better anyway- during the fight, he couldn't hear a word that Tsunami had said, assuming it had said anything. Staring into the crowd, he peered for anyone who seemed willing to charge out at him. Yet most eyes moved away with their respective bodies, as the villagers no longer considered themselves safe by staying around with a pissed off outsider who could take down six men without breaking a sweat. The guards too grumbled and retreated, pulling themselves away from the infuriated man. Zohall was further pleased to find that the image and voice had left all sight in the reflections he could find, and now he was at peace.

Yet suspicion tugged at the fabric of his thought, and he walked over to a window, making sure not to look into it. Once he got close enough to be sure he would see himself clearly, he turned and watched his perfect reflection. Nothing strange appeared, no movements without true cause, and so he was satisfied.

"I won't be away for long…" The voice called from the window. He peered away, not wanting to tempt it to re-summon, and allow himself to go mad. Yet as he glanced away, he found a figure watching him curiously, scrutinizing him with cold dominating eyes.

"What?" Zohall called to him. The man barley blinked, yet turned away and started to his shop. Zohall shook his head heavily, tired of his mood swings. Yet as his sight caught the fleeting feet of the blacksmith. They were not sandals, as he suddenly noticed that there was no clop or sudden scraping of the ground. Rather, they sounded more like shoes of a more western origin, having a soft impact on the ground. His eyes honed in on the feet appearing occasionally from under the robes, and realized they were leather like shoes.

Zohall wasn't a super-genius, but he knew that almost four days ago they had come across a westerner who claimed to have a pupil in this village. This man walking away from him may have the answers for him, and so he followed him hurriedly. Just before he could get into yelling distance however, he disappeared through the fabric covered doorway that barred away his shop. Stopping just short of the entrance, Zohall considered what could be waiting. Craning his head up, he spied the small stack of smoke trailing into the sky from a hidden chimney; a Blacksmith alright.

Hope I'm right about this, he thought as he pushed his way through the clothing and entered the smoky, fire-lit building. Either the man who worked here had to remove the windows to keep the heat in here good for his materials, or his wants shut out anything light oriented, or he was simply another dang-nasty vampire, Zohall didn't know. No windows cut holes through the walls to allow light to bleed in or the blatant smell of steel and powder to mix with fresh air. Either way, it reeked workaholic. Zohall moved past several cases of ready katana blades, several spear tips, rows of daggers all displayed in small cases. Yet on the walls just out of reach were locked cabinets, each looking well-used, but very secure.

"Hey…" Zohall called around, hoping to draw the attention of an assistant or the man he was looking for himself. Turning in his hopes, he found a rather long Japanese sword sitting lonely nearby. "Hellooo?" Eyeing it only twice before looking around, Zohall grinned happily and moved for it, almost anticipating its grip. Sliding a hand slowly around its grip, the blade was gently pulled from its rest. Yet Zohall was not prepared for it's weight, and as soon as he lifted it into the air, he struggled backwards while trying not to cut his face open. The massive sword was much, much heavier than he had thought, to the point where he thought he was lifting up an entire cabinet filled with Gleams. His feet danced around as he fought to spread the weight around, and finally bumped against a table behind him. The result was instant, beginning with a slow creaking of a warning, ending with the table turning over and spilling over a dozen blades to the floor and their needed equipment.

"Not again," Zohall groaned as he lifted the blade a little, shifting its weight.

"And that will be added to the bill," the cool voice called from another section of the building. Zohall flinched like a whip had slashed at his hand. The large sword tilted to one side and he followed, trying to get it back up, doing nothing more than just becoming a charging sword. He just managed to lift the sword slightly to avoid impaling an expensive looking book, thick and covered in dark leather. The blade stuck in the wall, and allowed Zohall to rush forward in the momentum and smash his forehead against the wall and flip onto his back. "So will the wall's construction… so thank you for coming."

"S… sorry," Zohall spluttered, rolling to get back onto his feet. It didn't occur to him how much he had broken, but if he wasn't mistaken, the man had a very clever look to him. "I thought you could help me."

"I'm no acrobat. That you have to learn on your own I'm sorry to say."

"What? Oh, yeah the swords- look," Zohall restarted the topic in his mind," I need someone to read a book for us." This was followed by the laughter of this man.

"You want me to read a book to you? And here I was sure you had the ability to read…"

"No, I can," Zohall said, getting frustrated with this attitude," I need someone to read a book with very complicated-"

"Words? Phrases? Sentences?" This guy was getting a real kick out of taunting Zohall.

"…Alchemical Mixes," Zohall said through gritted teeth. The supposed blacksmith did little to react to this comment; raising his eyebrows and scoffing.

"You want an alchemist, not a blacksmith. I've learnt how to mix and match the sword to the fighter, not flowers and grass to a potion."

"Yeah… I guess…" The blond wasn't sure how to get this guy to help him. He knew that he was the man they had been looking for, but not how to get him on his side. Zohall rarely had to convince strangers to help him in situations not immediately dire. This could be a challenge if he didn't take himself slowly and carefully. "I just heard that, uh, you're the sort of person who can help out with a lot of things." This seemed to help slightly, as the Blacksmith nodded in acknowledgment. Zohall had to continue or his act would loose. "And you were at the dinner last night… you know, sitting close to the Emperor. So it made sense to ask you for help with things like that."

"I see. That is a very nice story, but you don't even know my name," the blacksmith said plainly. Zohall gulped and hoped he had not lost this struggle. "My name is Uchideshi, and I am the man to come to… for the price."

"Oh great," Zohall sighed in relief and stepped closer to him, pulling the massive sword out of the wall and placing on the closest table," I was really afraid that you'd not help us out."

"Oh… 'us'?"

"Well… yeah," Zohall said, unsure of this sudden hesitation from him. "We could use some help here."

"Is that so?" Uchideshi pierced though Zohall's words easily, catching his concern like a master fisherman. "I have no desire to help your group and put my life on the line of those demons."

"We can protect you," Zohall defended," it isn't like we can't fight for ourselves."

"We felt your fights for days, you know that? And the most recent was outside our very doors with only ten or so men and women holding back the dragon from killing us all. What makes you think the next battle wont take place… inside our walls?" the sure words told Zohall something: this man was smarter, and far more observant than anyone else they had come across in this journey. He had smarts and likely talent, considering the blades in the shop were clones of those belonging to soldiers in the forces in the area. But his last idea, of the battle moving inside, was a warning.

"We can change that," Zohall stated, moving closer with hope. "The demons, Naraku's girl, attacked only because we were here. If we get what we need and leave, you all are left alone. Why would a demon army attack a village they gain nothing from?"

"Demons eat us. We'd be a meal they could laugh about later on."

"Maybe, but we're a concern to their leader. If we leave, their army follows us to make sure we can't get to him… right?"

"You obviously don't know demons-" Uchideshi began, mocking him.

"Don't," Zohall finally took a new tone with him," ever say I don't know about demons, undead, or shit that prefers helpless victims for dinner. Ever," he finished glaring into the man's eyes. For the first time, and finally to Zohall, the stone man seemed to falter. Either it was the facial expression, or his eyes were glowing again that fearful, mystical glare, Zohall didn't care- the affect was clear. Zohall was scary for a moment, and that seemed enough.

"What… do you want of me?" Uchideshi asked after a recollecting sigh.

"We have a book that's full of potion mixes, but we aren't sure how to start making some. So, we want some pointers," Zohall said finally.

"Where did you get this complicated book?" Uchideshi asked, turning for the back of his shop," different areas of our land call for different recipes."

"Really? Like… someone from the mountains does it differently than below it?" Zohall inquired with genuine interest.

"Oh course! Not all land is the same, just like water. You could never replace sea water with spring water unless you change the recipe," Uchideshi lectured, peering behind himself momentarily as he moved to a large desk covered in smelting materials. "But if this came from high mountains, we would need to alter the recipe to adjust the change in air." Zohall raised an eyebrow. This man was talking things that wouldn't be discovered, or at least validated, for hundreds of years like it was simple information.

"No problem there then," Zohall said nodding his head," we got this from three days away on level ground with this area, so no worries in air pressure, right?" Zohall said with a smile.

Uchideshi paused in his trek for materials in his desk. A stunned man, he slowly turned his head around to stare at him with wide eyes. "How… how did you I was talking about air pressure?" Now it was Zohall's turn to blink. Once again he had forgotten about the difference in culture and general knowledge of the land. What he had said differed from any average warrior, let alone understand the meaning of pressure difference in mountains to low lands.

"Well… I guessed?" Zohall begged him to believe him. Uchideshi moved closer to the blond, staring at his clothing more thoroughly, re-examining everything from his shoes to his jacket and belts. "Hey, look- can you, hey, just stop that!" he ended with a firm shove away.

"This sort of clothing… is very impressive. Convenient," the blacksmith now began to circle the worried swordsman," strong for simple fabric, and by the looks of it, comfortable. Your pants…" Uchideshi glanced to the jeans," also unique… and your belts are of incredible quality. You say you were on a journey for days? Well, with the dirt you have on you," he said with a impulsive brushing of dust off of Zohall's jacket," so you have been places… but your clothing look like they just left their owners…" Uchideshi finally stepped away, staring at his face finally," and your facial qualities remind me of… never mind," he said, closing his eyes painfully, and turning for his things. "I will find out where you are from," he said defiantly as he turned with a filled bag. "Until then, lead me to this book."

"Well… even if I did tell you now where I'm from," Zohall said surely," you would not believe it for a second. And… your talking about the captain, aren't you?"

Uchideshi flinched, tilting his head down in some reaction to the name. "There are many captains in this world. And I have always lived on the shore, so let us go," he said, passing Zohall roughly and heading quickly for the door.

"… Captain Madurin is dead." Zohall softly informed him. Uchideshi stopped instantly at the foot of his door, standing statue-like at the news. Zohall watched and waited, unsure of what this would do with regards to getting to the potion book. The Blacksmith slowly turned around, his face wide and ghostly, open and exposed in shock.

"He died?"

"Yeah, he was killed by Tower's servants, or by the vampire himself." Uchideshi's resolve seemed to tighten as he gripped tight enough on his sack's leather straps to produce sound.

"You are mine to use then, Uchideshi stated," for whatever uses you may. As Vernon Madurin's assistant, pupil, and… apprentice, it is my duty to help you end my master's murder."

"So you are his apprentice," Zohall mentioned after a while, breaking a long and meaningful pause. "Before he died, he said he missed you and told us to find his pupil… so he was talking about you?"

"Yes," Uchideshi confirmed, sounding stronger and angrier yet," I was in essence his son. No father to teach me, or mother to raise me… just him and his damn past to haunt me… but," Uchideshi paused, his eyes recalling the past," he did care for me. And he taught me blacksmithing and Alchemy. You know… he tells everyone that he took that book from a dead monk, but that's only the first half. Everything after that he learnt and added on his own… those recipes will be the ones he wants me to do, especially if he sent you all after me." Uchideshi then left the shop, forcing Zohall to hurry on after him.

"Why's that?"

"Because I was the only one who ever had a chance perfecting them… and reading his handwriting."