I know you guys have been asking for when the Yasuo/Riven interactions will begin, and I've been silent on that fact mainly because I'm lazy. Well, I shall address it at last: All my ramblings and stuff (read: fluff) have been deliberately building towards a VERY big interaction/confrontation between Yasuo and Riven. It's not in this chapter but I swear with all my heart that it's in the next one. So believe you me, all those chapters had meaning and a purpose. If you guys are willing to grit your teeth and bear with me for ONE more chapter, you'll finally see what it is I've had planned for a good 4 or 5 chapters now. If not, then thank you for sticking with me for this long. And also, you suck. :^)

Peace.


Chapter 46: Conversations

There were many rooms in the Institute of War that few people seemed to know about: large, abandoned halls adorned with colorful stained glass windows and rows of wooden pews; small alcoves complete with large armchairs and an always fully-stocked bookshelf; enormous and decadent bathrooms that were constantly empty yet always kept perfectly clean; countless empty training rooms like the one that Yasuo used almost exclusively for himself. It seemed that the Institute was host to just as many strange and peculiar rooms as it was to strange and peculiar people. In his free time, Yasuo had taken to wandering around the Institute in search of such rooms, and he had been pleasantly surprised to find many that were both secluded and hidden away – both from sight, as well as from the perception of other Champions and Summoners.

Today, however, the room he was in was neither empty nor unknown in the slightest; it was actually among the most well-known in the entire Institute: the Archives. They were located in the very heart of the Institute of War and encompassed a surprisingly large portion of the Institute: they were a massive, sprawling collection of small branching rooms and hallways that were stocked to the very brim with records of all shapes and sizes. The Archives held the most information on the history of Valoran in all of the continent, and often times, people came to the Institute not for League purposes, but to access that wealth of information.

The main central room was circular, with a spiraling principal tower in the center that served as both support and as a staircase that led to the upper floors of the Archives. Books and scrolls and pictures and all sorts of other medium of knowledge lined the curved wall of the central room – affectionately titled the Red Ring for its burgundy color palate – and their titles were undiscernible from so far away. The hallways to the other rooms branched off like the pattern of a spider-web, with the Red Ring at the center.

It was here in the Red Ring that Yasuo currently found himself combing the records of ancient Ionia for any scraps of information on wind techniques. So far he had found little to nothing.

He sat at a table along the outer edge of the Ring with a small pile of books set before him and an equal number of papers scattered on the table surface. He had not been called in to participate in any League matches for the day, and had instead taken the time off to explore the famed Archives. He had to say, he was rather impressed.

He figured that even if he spent the rest of his life in the Archives, he still would not read or discover all the secrets and information it had to offer. And the little he had read had been both intriguing and enlightening. All around him, Summoners and a handful of other Champions were also caught in similar states of intrigue as they considered their own books and scrolls. For such a massive room, the Red Ring was remarkably quiet, with only the sound of a slight cough or the quiet turn of a page breaking the silence.

When he had first entered the Archives, Yasuo had been surprised to learn that it was the Curator of the Sands who served as the Archives' Librarian, and not some veteran Summoner assigned to the task. He wondered if his past as the Keeper of a Great Library on some faraway planet had some sort of influence over that decision. When he had entered the Archives, Nasus had inclined his head in greeting before turning his attention back to his scrolls and books, and once Yasuo had recovered from his surprise, he had returned the gesture of respect.

He had asked Nasus where he would find texts on Ionia, and the Curator had pointed in the direction where Yasuo now sat. As he had walked to where he had indicated, Yasuo thought he felt the heavy eyes of the Curator on his back, but he could not be sure. In the surrounding bookshelves, he had found numerous texts about the history of Ionia, and had set about immediately reading them for any sign of what he was looking for.

He had read past Ionia's establishment a long time ago by a group of wandering monks who had set sail on the Guardian's Sea in search of harmony; past its bloody history as a country torn apart by horrific wars between neighbors kingdoms; he had read past the legendary dynasties that had seemed to last forever, of the ninja and samurai that had made a name for Ionia and had protected it from invaders; had read past the collapse of the remaining kingdoms and the gradual evolution of Ionia into the country it was now, full of peace and harmony; and had read past the first-hand accounts of the Noxian invasion, written by the hands of Noxians and Ionians alike as they marched across the island country.

But he had found little about wind techniques beyond old folktales and vague accounts. More often than not, what he had stumbled upon was nothing more than myths and legends. He had even stumbled upon various pieces that covered his own sword school, but those had been lacking as much as the others. While it was obvious that throughout Ionia's history, there had been those like him who had been capable of controlling the wind, they had been often been idolized, and the accounts of their exploits had been exaggerated greatly.

With a sigh of frustration, Yasuo placed the book he had been reading back onto the table and covered his face with his hands.

There was nothing. No records on how the techniques had been accomplished or learned, no first-hand accounts written by those capable of utilizing the techniques, nothing even remotely close to instructions on how to learn the techniques. He had been looking all morning, and he had found nothing.

Nothing at all.

Yasuo lowered his hands from his face shakily. How had she done it? How had she learned? The question from before came to mind again as he stared unseeingly at the papers before him:

Riven… who are you?


Yasuo was slumped in his chair with his head in his arms and lying face-down on the table before him. A half-empty glass of rich amber mead stood next to his down-turned head, the liquid still swirling gently inside. It was a Freljordian mead that Gragas had given him without asking what it was he wanted, and Yasuo found that it was perfect for the emotions he was feeling. His elbows brushed across the cold glass as he shifted his arms.

It was his fourth that hour.

All around him, the commotion of Gragas' bar – known as the Explosive Cask – was nothing more than a buzzing in his ears that closely matched the one in his head. It was a Friday night, and the bar was even more packed than normal with the usual Champions and Summoners, as well as several more that came only on days such as this. Sitting in a more secluded corner of the noisy pub, Yasuo was trying his very best to ignore them. Today, he was not in the mood to talk to anyone.

His head, muggy with the drink, still rang with the questions that plagued him about Riven: How did she know about the wind techniques? If someone had taught her, who had it been? What more did she know? What was she not telling anyone? Who was she really?

The mead burned Yasuo's throat as he raised his head and took another drink, renewing the buzz in his mind and the warmth in his body. He set the glass back down with a loud clank, wiping his mouth. He blinked blearily as he looked around inside the pub. Through the fog in front of his eyes, he could see several familiar faces sitting at the bars and at the tables, chatting loudly as they ate and drank.

The famed Piltover triumvirate sat in another corner of the pub, and even at a distance, Yasuo could tell that Caitlyn's drink was nothing more than iced tea. He smiled slightly at her cautiousness; he had yet to see the Sheriff truly lose her temper or even get drunk. Also sitting at her table, Vi and Jayce were in the middle of a deep conversation, gesturing with animated hand motions. In another part of the room, Tryndamere was laughing loudly as he shared a drink with the bar-master himself Gragas. His reserved wife Ashe looked on at the conversation with a half-amused, half-chastising look on her face and a small glass of water between her delicate hands. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Talon and Katarina talking heatedly over a pair of blades that jutted out of the table between them. Without even having to look, he could tell solely by Twisted Fate's laugh that he had at least one girl under each arm. Maybe even two.

The conversation in the pub was loud and happy, and laughing was common.

Just another Friday night in the League, thought Yasuo with another smile. By now, he was used to it. As his eyes passed over a clock set into the opposite wall, he decided it was time to go.

As he rose to his feet, he staggered slightly, the world swimming before his eyes. Closing his eyes, he waited until the spinning had stopped before walking shakily over to the door of Gragas' pub. With a friendly wave of his hand, he bid farewell to the Rabble Rouser and his other fellow Champions and stepped outside.

Outside of the pub, the Institute was remarkably quiet. The corridors were empty, and the sounds of people beginning to enjoy the weekend were subdued behind closed doors. He was glad that the hallways were empty; that way, there would be little risk of him running into people as he made his way back to his apartment. He had already faltered several times, only just catching himself on the walls before he fell.

"That was some strong stuff, Gragas," he muttered to the empty hallway as it swam in and out of focus. He had been drunker than this before, but those times, he had been seeking to forget, not just enjoy himself. He stumbled again, sliding down onto a nearby bench as his legs gave out beneath him.

Just a… quick nap… he thought sleepily as his chin rested on his chest and his eyes closed.


Gentle shaking was what awoke Yasuo. His eyes fluttered open as the gentle motion rocked him. As he shifted, the hand left his shoulder, evidently satisfied that he was awake.

"Yasuo. Get up," said a very familiar voice. Dimly, he realized that whoever it was, they must have been calling his name for some time.

He straightened, sitting up on the bench with a groan, pressing palms to his temples as the world tilted dangerously before him. Already, he could feel the beginnings of his inevitable hangover as an uncomfortable prickling set in behind his eyes. Once the feeling of nausea had passed, he looked up at who had woken him and squinted against the bright light of the hallway lanterns.

Though he could only see their silhouette, the shadow of the large hat made it obvious who it was. After all, there was only one person in the League who wore such a ridiculous hat. Not that he would ever tell her it was ridiculous.

Caitlyn.

As his vision adjusted to the light, he thought he could see the smug smile on her face.

"Have a nice nap, love?" she asked sardonically as she shifted her weight from one leg to the other and crossed her arms. She had traded her Sheriff's outfit for a simple purple top and frilly purple skirt that only just covered her thighs. For an officer of the law, Yasuo often thought she had a less than scrupulous taste in clothing. He let his eyes wander up past her ankle-high boots and up her smooth legs before they came to rest on her face. Yasuo looked at her for a moment more, meeting her amused gray eyes before groaning again and covering his eyes with his right hand; the light from behind her was still painful.

"Why is it you?" he asked as he lowered his hand at last. "Of all the people in the Institute…"

Caitlyn's smile grew. "Don't think yourself lucky, love. When we're all cooped up here, the chances of running into one another are higher than you'd think."

Yasuo waved a hand dismissively and Caitlyn chuckled. He took several steadying breaths before he spoke again.

"Where are Jayce and Vi?" he asked as he realized that the Piltover triumvirate was not complete. To his surprise, Caitlyn stiffened and her expression hardened as she tightened her arms around one another.

"They're not here," she said tightly. Yasuo raised an eyebrow – both at the obvious statement and at her tone.

"It doesn't take a Sheriff to see that," he said carefully. "I just thought they'd be with you."

"They were. Not anymore."

"Where'd they go?" he asked casually.

"Back to Jayce's room. Or Vi's. Or maybe somewhere else. I don't know; I left before I could hear much else."

Yasuo straightened, interested. "Together? They left together?"

Caitlyn nodded curtly, and she uncrossed her arms, placing her hands on her hips and looking away from Yasuo. "Maybe my wishes will come true and they'll finally sleep together," she said with a faintly bitter tone. "Then I won't have to deal with them flirting anymore. Heavens knows it's such a bother."

"You don't sound all that happy about it," muttered Yasuo without meeting her eyes. Though he was obviously interested in her reaction, he was approaching the subject as carefully as he could. The last thing he wanted was a red dot on his forehead and a bullet in his brain. Death was not so… temporary off of the Rift.

Caitlyn smiled thinly. "I'm not. If I have trouble dealing with them now when they're not sleeping together, I can only imagine how it'll be if they start." She sighed and rubbed her temples. "I can already see the paperwork… oh, my poor fingers," she said as she cracked her knuckles for emphasis.

Yasuo chuckled uneasily and Caitlyn shot him a glare that was only half-serious. She had a valid point about having to deal with them as their friend if they became a couple, but he could not shake the feeling…

He cleared his throat. "So you're not jealous?" he asked meekly. Caitlyn stared at him.

"Jealous? Why on earth would I be jealous?" she asked, sounding very genuinely surprised. "What are you on about?"

"Oh. I thought maybe…" His voice trailed off timidly, and after another moment of staring incredulously at him, Caitlyn let out a loud laugh. Her laughter rang out through the halls as she doubled over, clutching her stomach. Yasuo felt his face redden. There's no need to laugh that much…

Her laughter continued even as he squirmed uncomfortably on the bench, looking around the hallway to make sure no one saw him being laughed at by Caitlyn. To his relief, there was no one in sight.

"Oh, you wanker!" she gasped once she could finally breath again. Still laughing, her speech was halting and broken. "You thought- You thought I had feelings for one of them, didn't you?"

"No."

"You bugger," she said with a grin. "You're lying, I can tell. Tell me the truth, Yasuo."

"Well, not anymore," he corrected himself stiffly. Caitlyn wiped the tears of mirth from her eyes, shoulders still shaking.

"Oh, I'm sorry for my rudeness, love," she said quickly and still unsteadily. "It's just… that's so bloody ridiculous!"

"I can see that now."

Caitlyn, still giggling, sat down on the bench beside him. The edges of her hat brushed his hair as she leaned back. "I didn't mean to laugh at you, love. But I'm being quite serious: I don't have feelings for either of them."

Yasuo glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes as she said it; her tone had changed drastically. Her eyes and her face were filled with a bitter sadness, and though how she said it was with complete conviction, her expression lacked that same conviction. The laughter had fled her face, leaving it sorrowful and morose. She was silent, staying ahead of her at the opposite wall of the corridor with blank eyes as Yasuo watched her. Just when he was about to ask her if she was fine, she spoke again.

"And besides," she started briskly as if realizing how she looked. "Even if I did, it wouldn't matter: do you know how mad it is to date a friend, love?" She shook her head vigorously, sending her hat trembling. "Absolutely barmy. Honestly, I wouldn't want the trouble." She sighed. "Unfortunately, if this goes on like I think it's going to, it's going to be even worse for me than either of them, I wager. I'd still have to deal with the both of them if they start to ignore each other."

"That doesn't sound fun."

Caitlyn cracked another small smile. "It won't be."

Yasuo sighed and closed his eyes as he leaned back on the wall behind him. "Well, Caitlyn," he muttered. "I wish you the best of luck."

"Thanks, love." She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "What happened to you?" she asked finally.

"What are you talking about?" he grumbled without opening his eyes; the light was still painful.

"You took a while to wake up, love. You must been drinking quite a lot. Trying to forget something… or someone?" she added slyly.

"I've just got a lot of things on my mind," he said, ignoring the second part of her question.

"A woman?"

Yasuo opened his eyes to glare at her. "No, not a woman. Not everything men think about is about women, Caitlyn."

The Sheriff's shoulders brushed against his as she shrugged. "But much of it is," she said idly. She narrowed her eyes at him in scrutiny. "Come on, love. I'm not Valoran's Greatest Detective for no reason."

"Is that you?" said Yasuo nonchalantly. "And here I was under the impression that it was Vayne. Silly me."

That struck a nerve; even though he had known both women for a short time, he knew that Vayne and Caitlyn had an almost friendly rivalry over who was the better investigator. He knew that although the Night Hunter and the Sheriff of Piltover were close, at many times they would butt heads over their differing methods, and their normally warm relationship would ice over. But the two women always maintained a professional respect for one another, even if their friendship would occasionally turn icy. He had seen them many times at a table together, heads together as they conversed quietly on what he could only imagine were cases. He knew that they consulted each other, and at times they would work together and ask favors of one another.

Caitlyn's eyes flashed in anger at the sound of her friend's name, and she stiffened, hands clenching at her sides. "Yes, well, unlike my colleague the Night Hunter," she said shortly. "I operate within legal parameters." She held the hard expression for a moment longer before a sly smile twitched her lips and softened it. "Besides, I consider it a handicap for her. It's only fair, the poor girl."

Yasuo let a grin of his own cross his face. "Don't let her hear you say that. And you can't tell me you haven't ever… stretched the law a bit. Not once asked Vi to rough a criminal up a little or Jayce to investigate a suspect's home on his free time?"

"Not once." She had answered it smoothly and without a hint of a lie, but the grin on her face gave it away.

Chuckling, Yasuo shook his head. "You and Vayne are worse than Vi and Jayce."

"We are not!" exclaimed Caitlyn, scandalized. Yasuo shrugged, and Caitlyn scoffed. "You're just saying that to get me off topic, aren't you?" she asked, raising a suspicious eyebrow.

"Maybe," said Yasuo as he inspected his fingernails. He did not have his sword with him, so there was little else to pretend to be interested in.

"I knew it," said Caitlyn as she shifted on the bench to face Yasuo. "Were you thinking about her?"

"I don't know who you're talking about."

Caitlyn looked at him with eyebrows raised in skepticism. "Come on, love," she said with a sigh. "I know who she is. Don't make me say her name – for your sake."

Yasuo pressed his lips tightly together and looked away pointedly.

"That bad, huh?" said Caitlyn quietly. "Maybe you should try to talk to her, Yasuo."

"Again, I still don't know what you're talking about."

Caitlyn growled in exasperation, rolling her eyes and throwing her hands in the air. "Fine. If you're going to be difficult, so can I. Riven, Yasuo. Talk to Riven."

Yasuo's eyes flashed to her, and he quelled the surprise in his chest. "How'd you know?" he asked finally, his voice low.

Caitlyn tapped the rim of her hat. "Valoran's Greatest Detective, remember? Don't worry, love, other than me and maybe Vayne, I don't think a lot of people suspect it." She scrunched her nose, her brow furrowing. "And I don't think Shauna gives much of a damn, either. Relationships aren't really her cup of tea, so to speak."

"If you know about… her, then you know the feelings I have for her aren't romantic in the slightest," he said, his voice still low and dangerous. "She killed my master, Caitlyn. She's the reason I've suffered these past years."

"The rest of Ionia doesn't seem to believe you, love," she said softly. "And I can't but feel like you're lying to yourself about your own feelings."

"That's their problem," he said coldly, once again ignoring the second part of her comment. He narrowed his eyes at her. "What do you think, Caitlyn? Do you believe me, or do you think I'm a liar, just like all the other Ionians do?"

Caitlyn kept his gaze for a silent minute, her gray eyes searching his intently before she looked away. Sighing wearily, she lifted her hat as she brushed her hair back. "I believe you, love," she said at last once she had placed her hat back on her head. "I don't think you did it." She smiled humorlessly. "But even I have to admit… the evidence is compelling. An Elder killed at the temple you were tasked to guard. Killed by a wind technique when the only known user of those techniques was you. Once you were confronted, you chose instead to run rather than turn yourself in. You have to admit, it seems like an open-and-shut case."

"The evidence is compelling and the case is open-and-shut only for those who had already made up their minds. They didn't so much as give me a chance to explain myself. They were going to execute me right there without a trial or anything."

"Whatever the case may be…" she muttered. "If you're not going to talk to Riven, why not talk to one of her friends? Maybe you can understand her better that way. If you want to understand her better at all."

"All of her friends are Ionians," he said simply. "I doubt they're in much of a mood to talk to me." But even as he said it, he thought of Lee Sin. The Blind Monk had always been more receptive of him, and silently, he made a promise to speak to him some time later. Caitlyn was watching his facial expression, her eyes flickering back and forth across his face.

"You've thought of something," she noted.

"Maybe."

Yasuo stood, and Caitlyn watched him as he placed a hand to the wall beside him to steady himself. With his conversation with Caitlyn, he had almost forgotten that he was still drunk. He closed his eyes to help abate the nausea as he caught his breath. Once he found he could stand without his legs shaking, he opened his eyes once more. Caitlyn kept her eyes trained onto him, the amused expression returning as she watched him stumble.

"I'd almost forgotten you were completely sloshed, love," she said in barely contained delight.

"So did I," he said with a groan. It's going to be a long night… Damn you, Gragas.

"You're a very cogent drunk, you know that, Yasuo?" she added as she stood as well. "You were very articulate this whole time."

Yasuo chuckled. "I've been drunk a lot, Caitlyn. You get used to it after a while. Soon enough, people don't even know you're drunk." He closed his eyes as another wave of vertigo washed over him. "Sometimes you can even fool yourself," he added with a wince.

Caitlyn looked at him, this time her eyebrows raised in more derisive amusement. "Whatever the reason, I hope this teaches you a lesson or two."

"I doubt it; I'm not a very good listener."

"I'd imagine not, love." The Sheriff gave a friendly tip of the hat as she also turned to leave. "Well, until next time, Yasuo."

"What are you going to do tonight?" he asked suddenly as she began to walk away.

Caitlyn paused, and when she turned, there was another, more unreadable smile on her face. "Me? Why do you want to know, Yasuo? You want to ask me on a date?"

Yasuo shrugged. "No, I'm just curious."

Caitlyn sighed, and Yasuo could not tell if it was from disappointment or something else. "I'm going to go to my apartment, take a nice long bath – preferably with candles, bubbles and slow music and most definitely alone – then I'm going to go to sleep. I'm going to need my rest for whatever disaster happens tomorrow between Vi and Jayce. And you?"

"Lie down and wait until this hangover goes away," he said with a groan. "Hopefully I won't succumb to the temptation to kill myself to end it sooner."

Caitlyn laughed. "Maybe you should drink less."

Yasuo scoffed. "Drink less? What kind of a suggestion is that?"

"A reasonable one."

"Reasonable?" he repeated, aghast. "You must be even drunker than I am to be thinking such crazy things."

Caitlyn laughed again, turning away and waving farewell over her shoulder. "Good night, Yasuo."

As Yasuo watched her go, his eyes were far lower than he would normally cast them if she were facing him. He watched her slender legs stride away confidently, enjoying the view despite himself. For once, he found he rather enjoyed the Sheriff's choice in barely-there skirts. A small smile lifted the right corner of his mouth as he shook his head.

Consider us even now, Caitlyn, he thought to himself as her form disappeared completely from view; he was thinking back to the time when he had been shirtless in the League cafeteria and he had felt her gaze linger on his own body as he walked away. With a quiet chuckle and with more concentration than he would have liked for it to take, he forced the image of a Caitlyn… alone… in a bath… with bubbles… and candles… and slow music… from his mind's eye.

Now, now, Yasuo, he chided himself as he began to make his way slowly in the direction of his apartment. We can't have that. You heard her: relationships with friends are nothing but trouble. Even if she does have a nice as- nope, don't even think it, Yasuo.

But he let the image of a bathing Caitlyn linger in his mind as he walked back to his apartment. It was all in good fun, after all; he had no romantic feelings for the Sheriff, and liked her perfectly well as nothing more than a friend, though he still considered her very attractive. Especially when her flavor for clothing was a little on the risqué side. Besides, whenever he fell asleep, there was only one woman who invaded his dreams. Someone who he would much rather not have there.

Riven.


The next morning was hell. Yasuo's head throbbed like someone was beating on it like a drum, and each little sound rang in his ears like the crashing of a gong. His mouth was dry as a bone, and thirst grated his throat like sandpaper. He could hear the morning sounds coming from outside and he groaned loudly as he twisted in his sheets.

Why are songbirds so damn loud? He thought bitterly as he covered himself with his sheets in an effort to drown out the cheerful chirping from outside. Don't they know some people are still trying to sleep in the mornings? Pain pulsed behind his eyes, and his stomach twisted with nausea. Suddenly, a very unfortunate feeling rose in his throat – one he knew all too well.

Stumbling out of bed, he only just got to the bathroom in time before he threw up in the toilet. Coughing, he gripped the cold porcelain of the bowl – something he was far too familiar with. He waited until the nausea had passed before he stood and flushed the toilet. Wiping his mouth, he looked at himself in the mirror.

His face was weary and worn, with the dark bags of sleepiness lining his eyes. His hair – which he had neglected to tie back – was disheveled and messy, falling around his shoulders and his bare back like a waterfall. He gripped the edge of the sink tightly enough that his knuckles turning white and the stone began to creak.

It was time to detoxify.

Several minutes later, Yasuo staggered out of his apartment, still blinking blearily, but now at least fully dressed and with his hair tied back. Slowly, he made his way in the direction of a small tea shop just outside the Institute that he rather enjoyed. He had always found that tea helped him with his hangovers, particularly ginger tea with a hint of lemon. The tea shop in question – called the Falling Leaf – was relatively unknown, though he had seen several other Champions there on occasion. Thankfully enough, it was not all that well-visited – though the quality of the tea was excellent – and he preferred that it remain that way; there was something relaxing about drinking tea in peace.

He held a hand before his face as he stepped out into the morning sun in an effort to block it. Though the morning was new, already he could see people milling around the various stalls and shops that were congregated around the Institute of War. Keeping his head down to avoid being recognized, he walked slowly to the small tea shop.

It was situated between two larger shops that seemed to draw the attention away from it. It's only outward form of advertisement was a small sign written in the Common Tongue as well as in smaller, flowing Ionian script beneath that read simply: the Falling Leaf. A wave of steam and pleasantly exotic smells greeted Yasuo as he stepped inside.

It reminded him of Ionia, a fact that panged his heart slightly every time he walked in: the smooth bamboo floors beneath his feet were etched with swirling designs of smoke, water, fire, and wind; the designs were echoed on the walls and the plain wooden tables, coming together like a mural; small wind-chimes hung from the ceiling, tinkling lightly in the breeze that Yasuo brought with him; the air was tinged with the scent of pine and lemon and rose and all the other things that were used for tea, and Yasuo inhaled deeply. At the present moment, the shop was almost completely empty, the only other patron being an old man who sat in a faraway corner, sipping at his tea in silence.

"Good morning, Yasuo," said a pleasant voice from the counter beside him. Turning, he faced Kora, the pretty young daughter of the couple that ran the restaurant. He had begun to come nearly every night to the tea shop, and Kora recognized him, not only as a regular, but also as a Champion of the League. She was rather fond of the League and its matches, and had struck up conversation with him on many occasions. She acted somewhat shyly around him, and he wondered if she maybe had a crush on him. He thought that it was more than likely.

Her features were pleasantly Ionian, with the typical angular lines of her face coupling prettily with the dark hair and hawk-like eyes. However, Kora was a little different than some of the other Ionian women he had seen; though she wore her dark hair proudly and without dyes, it was cut short in a style like Nicky Cole wore hers – it only just reached down past her ears. Her eyes were also different, being a much lighter color than he was used to seeing on Ionians, almost to a point of being pale gray. She was no older than 18, and her youthful beauty reminded him painfully of Rala.

"Good morning, Kora," he said kindly, hiding the pain in his voice as the memory of Toru's daughter floated to mind. He still had not forgiven himself for their deaths.

"You're here early," she noted, tilting her head slightly to one side.

Yasuo chuckled darkly. "I stayed out late last night," he said regretfully. "Maybe a bit too late. I need to recover, and I find tea helps."

Kora looked at him, confused for a moment longer before he saw the realization dawn across her face. "Oh," was all she said. He thought that a hint of a jealous flush grew in her cheeks.

"Yeah," said Yasuo, scratching the back of his head meekly.

"Well, would you like some tea, then?" she asked pleasantly.

"Yes, please."

"Do you have specific anything in mind?" she asked as she led him to an empty table.

"Something with ginger and lemon," he said as he took a seat. Kora nodded with a smile.

"I'll be right back, then," she said, stepping away from the table. Yasuo watched her go; she disappeared into a door behind the counter, and through the doorway, he could hear her speak to her parents in Ionian. She and her parents were the only ones who worked the tea shop; they lived in a small flat above the shop, and they had no other workers. Kora's older brother was a member of the Ionian Guard, and with the small amount of traffic they received, she was all they needed to serve as both cashier and waitress. Her parents prepared the tea fresh every day, collecting the ingredients themselves and preparing them by hand. Though they may not have had the biggest of customer bases, those that came were loyal and were more than enough to provide the income needed for the small and simple family.

Kora returned quickly enough with a small plate of rice crackers that she placed before him before disappearing once more through the doorway. Yasuo ate them slowly, grateful for the small amount of food that helped to ease his upset stomach. Since he knew it would be some time before the tea came, he closed his eyes and laid his head in his palms. His headache still remained, as well as the throbbing behind his eyes, and he did his best to try to ignore them.

Yasuo opened his eyes as the sharp smell of ginger and lemon reached his nose. Kora was walking towards where he sat with a small tray held carefully in her hand. Atop the tray was a clay teapot, as well as a small clay cup. She placed the tray easily on the table, pouring the steaming tea carefully into the small cup. The amber liquid swirled like molten gold as it slowly filled the cup. Once she was finished, she placed the pot back onto the tray. She presented him with the cup with a small flourish, looking very pleased with herself as he took a sip.

"Ginger and lemon tea," she said proudly. "Freshly made, as always."

"It's delicious," he said as he placed the cup back down; it was just the thing he needed to get rid of his hangover. Kora gave a little curtsy, dipping her head politely.

"I'm glad you enjoy it."

"I always do," he said, and she smiled. He closed his eyes as he took another drink of the tea. When he opened them again, Kora was still standing there, wringing her hands and looking very indecisive as she bit her lip.

Yasuo hid a smile. "Would you like to take a seat, Kora?" he asked kindly, and she nodded quickly.

"Can I?" she asked quickly.

"Of course," he said, motioning towards the empty chair before him. She sat down promptly, brushing off her apron and folding her hands on the table. She watched his face until he met her eyes, at which point she blushed and looked away. Yasuo hid his smile behind a sip of his tea.

Yep, he thought to himself. She has a crush on me. How do I say this…?

He placed the tea cup lightly back down on the table with a sigh, causing Kora to look up at him once more.

"Listen, Kora…" he began as gently as he could. He did not wish to hurt her feelings, but…

"Do you have a girlfriend, Yasuo?" she blurted before he could say much else. Yasuo stared at her in surprise; he had not expected her to ask it so forwardly. He cleared his throat as he scratched the back of his head again.

"No, Kora, I don't have a girlfriend," he said awkwardly. The worried expression on her face turned to one of relief, and she looked at her hands.

"Oh, because I was wondering if you wanted to-"

"Kora." He said her name gently but firmly, causing her to look up at him. "I don't know any easy way to say this," he said, faltering more than he would have wished; he had never had experience with this before. "Mainly because I've never really had this happen to me before, but-"

"But you don't like me," she finished quietly, still looking at her hands.

"No, no," said Yasuo quickly. "I like you a lot, just… not in that way."

She looked up at him, and it made him sad to see that there were the beginnings of tears in her eyes. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her feelings.

"Its fine, Yasuo," she said heavily, hastily wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "I understand completely. I just figured… why not give it a shot?" She smiled weakly, and Yasuo took her hand in his, squeezing it comfortingly. As he did, his finger caught the edge of her bracelet. As he looked down at her hand, he saw it better: it was made of a line of small crystal beads, with a larger one breaking the rhythm every so often. It struck him, and he had to shake himself mentally to remind himself of what he wanted to tell her.

"You're a very pretty young woman, Kora," he said reassuringly, covering her hand with his. "You shouldn't waste your time on someone like me."

"I couldn't help myself, Yasuo," she said awkwardly as her face reddened. "You're very handsome and you're so nice to me."

Yasuo laughed lightly as he let go of her hand. "Don't worry, Kora; you're going to meet someone who's handsomer than me, and even nicer to you than I am, I'm sure of it."

Kora smiled tearfully as she wiped her eyes again. "Thank you for that, Yasuo. And I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable with my outburst," she added, clearly embarrassed. As she said it, a thought seemed to strike her, and she looked up at him with a horrified expression on her face.

"Oh, I hope you don't stop coming here because of what I said! My parents would never forgive me if I lost a customer because of my silliness!" she said, worried.

At the anxious expression on her face, Yasuo laughed. "Of course not, Kora," he chuckled. "The tea here is too good to just leave it. Besides, I rather enjoy your company."

"Really?" she asked, surprised.

Yasuo nodded. "Not all Ionians are as accepting of me as you are. I'm grateful for that."

"Oh," she replied meekly. "Well, I- I rather enjoy your company, too, so I hope you keep coming," she mumbled under her breath.

"I will, I promise," he said, offering her a rice cracker. She took it, and as she raised her hand, he noticed her bracelet once more.

"That's a very nice bracelet," he said, motioning to it with a stray finger. Kora twisted her wrist to look at it better. "Did you make it?"

Kora shook her head. "No, someone gave it to me."

"Really? Who?" he asked, interested. "Was it a boy that likes you?"

Kora's face darkened again. "No, he's older, but he didn't mean it like that," she said quickly. "His name is Jiro, and he owns a little shop not too far from here. He makes all sorts of things, and he's just the sweetest, kindest old man." She shook the bracelet on her wrist. "He made this for me when I told him I liked his art. He didn't even make me pay for it, he just asked me to come back to visit him."

"And do you?"

Kora nodded. "I visit him whenever I can and he gives me advice." She looked at her hands as the flush on her face deepened. "He's the one who suggested I tell you how I feel."

Yasuo chuckled. "He seems like a wise man. Regardless, it's a very beautiful bracelet."

"It is." Kora looked up at him, and he could tell she had an idea. "When you're done with your tea, do you want me to take you to his shop?" she asked. "I'm sure he'd be willing to make you something too."

"I would like that very much," he said kindly. Kora smiled as she stood, all traces of sadness gone from her person.

"Well, then," she said as she straightened her apron. "You finish your tea, and I'll go tell my parents that I'm going to be gone for a little while. I'll be right back!" she said as she walked in the direction of the counter once more.

Yasuo chuckled under his breath as she left, shaking his head. As he took another sip of his tea, he realized something.

His hangover was gone.