Kuro roused from sleep with a panicked cry rising in his throat.

He barely managed to suppress it, and felt he could only credit it to the fact that he was too groggy to even move. It took time for the details of his dream to return to him - fire, and golden eyes, and a blade through his chest and a lifeless corpse with askew glasses - and when they did he had to cover his mouth against a wave of nausea. His limbs were heavy, his skin too warm, and after a moment of convincing his body to move he started to push aside the makeshift blanket that was his old kimono.

A hand stopped him, firm and quick and pushing down on his chest, and once again his heart rate spiked and a small, pathetic noise issued from his throat. His eyes followed the hand, up the metal arm, to the new haori and gruff expression.

Something in Wolf's face softened at the terror that must have shown on Kuro's face. He turned from the flickering orange that Kuro had only just noticed, and the reflection of fire dancing in his eyes vanished. Finally, the younger found himself relaxing, if only a little, and as he willed his heart to calm he realized the camp was set up in a wide patch of dry dirt surrounded by tall grass.

"I was hot," he said quietly, lamely, voice hoarse from sleep.

"You were about to throw it into the fire," Wolf replied, something soft like amusement in his equally rough voice, and he carefully extracted the kimono and began to fold it. "You did not sleep well."

It was not a question, but a statement. A correct one. "No, I didn't."

Kuro rose, and found something missing - something odd and formless he could not put his finger on. It occurred to him as he straightened and stretched that his shoulders were strangely light, and after a moment of silence he realized the missing weight could only mean -

"The dragon," he blurted.

Wolf's hand rose to rest on his own shoulder. "With me."

With Wolf? But . . . "Why?" Kuro asked lamely, and then, realizing how petulant it sounded, added, "I just don't understand its intentions."

"I think," Wolf started, but paused, shaking his head. "No matter. It should return to you."

And it did, the telltale weight of it on his shoulders equal parts relieving, familiar, and tiring. "You think?" he pressed, and Wolf leaned back on his hands.

"It kept me company," he said simply. Then, as though it was a great task to admit it, he added, "Perhaps as an apology."

It was . . . strange, certainly, to think of the dragon as anything more than a mighty god with little concern for mortal affairs. Certainly not one to care when humans died because of its existence, let alone its power. Or lack thereof - Kuro's fingers settled on the tear in his yukata at the thought. There was no sign he had been stabbed, not even scar tissue, but the memory of the blade slicing through muscle and organ was still there. The minute jolt that accompanied the painful memory did not go unnoticed.

"Kuro - "

"Why didn't it protect me?" Kuro interrupted Wolf, and oh, how his voice wobbled as he spoke. Where had this emotion come from? He had thought he was fine. "Apologies don't - they don't fix this!"

He didn't intend for his voice to rise in volume. Wolf was not the one he was angry with, even if his shinobi could have prevented this - Kuro was supposed to be impervious to harm. The dragon's blood was supposed to keep him safe, and it had failed.

"They don't," Wolf agreed, and held out his prosthetic hand in silent invitation.

Kuro could not say no, and when he took Wolf's cold metal hand he found himself tugged to the shinobi's side. Wolf's cheek pressed against the top of his head, and Kuro's fingers curled automatically into his haori. It was warm here, too, but pleasantly so, Wolf's arm snug around his back a comforting feeling.

There was something about Wolf that never failed to ease the tightness in his chest or burn behind his eyes. Kuro could not even care to marvel at how the shinobi had been the one to invite the affection.

"I'm sorry," Wolf murmured into his hair.

"For what?"

I should have protected you, were the words Kuro knew he wanted to say, but instead Wolf's hold on him only tightened minutely. Kuro was sure he believed it. Sure he blamed himself. But Wolf's failure to be there for him was not something Kuro could blame him for - not when they both expected the dragon to keep him safe, and especially not when Wolf's absence had been because he was listening to a dying man's wish.

"It's not your fault." But Wolf was not the type to listen when someone told him he was not to blame, so Kuro added, "No harm done."

It was not true. Even now, Kuro could feel the blade slicing through his flesh if he thought too long about it. But Wolf's hand squeezed his arm briefly before relaxing, a soft exhale escaping him, so quiet Kuro barely caught it. The blame Wolf could hold against himself sometimes was astonishing, and Kuro hoped it had faded at least a little with his words. After all, Wolf truly was not at fault - the dragon was.

"Hungry?" Wolf prompted quietly before Kuro could think too much on the topic, and though he was definitely not hungry - the heat combined with the thought of his injury left him rather nauseated - he accepted water and forced down some bread at Wolf's gentle request.

There was something that lingered in the shinobi's face and posture, something that weighed down his shoulders as he stoked the fire and occasionally checked their surroundings, but after observing him over the waterskin for some minutes Kuro decided it was not guilt. At least, not only guilt. If Wolf felt guilty, he would not look at Kuro at all; instead he glanced back to him every once in a while, brow creased with something inscrutable.

"Where are we headed next?" Kuro asked. Wolf's gaze finally settled.

"We passed through a village while you still slept." That explained where the food came from. "I was given directions to the next one to the west, though it is farther south than I hoped to go."

Kuro supposed going off the beaten path was not an option when they did not know the terrain. "How long until we get there?"

"Roughly two days' walk." Wolf settled near the fire once more, though Kuro could see he still itched to keep moving. "Sleep. You need it."

Something was beginning to itch at the back of Kuro's mind. "I don't think I can," he said honestly, and watched curiously as Wolf's jaw twitched. "Is something the matter?"

But Wolf denied it with a shake of his head, albeit one that came a beat too late to be convincing. "You should still attempt rest," was what he said instead of no in an unsurprising display of evasion. "It will be sunrise soon."

Frustration tugged the corners of Kuro's mouth downwards. Had Wolf forgotten that he had promised to speak his mind? That he could trust Kuro with anything? He did not have to stew anymore, to hide, to deal with his worries alone, yet he averted his gaze anyway as though it meant nothing - just talk to me, for goodness' sake -

Kuro forced himself to inhale, then exhale, a few times until the indignance simmered. It was the stress talking, he knew. Whatever ailed Wolf would not be revealed by being angry he would not confide in Kuro. He knew that.

So softly, he asked, "Sit with me?"

And after a moment's hesitation, Wolf did. Only a few minutes passed with Kuro's head resting on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, before he did, in fact, fall back asleep.

A splash of sunlight filtering through the trees and landing directly in Kuro's eyes was what woke him once more, and he straightened and yawned before realizing Wolf was nowhere to be seen. Their belongings remained untouched and not packed up, however, so Kuro pushed down the concern and calmed himself with the thought that Wolf would have woken him were anything serious happening.

He had not had nightmares during this short rest, though Kuro was not positive he had even slept long enough to dream. With the weight of the dragon around his shoulders, however, he did his best not to think about it.

Not too far from their camp was a small stream he could hear bubbling from the tent, so he went in search for it - perhaps Wolf had gone that way to refill water. Kuro could do with washing some of the blood from himself, anyway, so with cautious hesitance and a frequent glance over his shoulder he made his way to the water's edge.

There was not a soul in sight when he arrived. The merry gurgling of the water and the quick flitting of tiny fish in the shallows made for a calm atmosphere that soothed Kuro's worries somewhat. The sun reflected delightfully off the water, lighting the area nicely, and Kuro stepped past the reeds and onto the muddy edge to dip his hands into the water.

The light and fish made for a lack of a reflection, so Kuro had to go by feel to get the blood off of his face and arms. There was little on his new yukata, thankfully, though the tears still remained - he would have to remember to sew it shut soon with the supplies Joro had gifted them. The water was cool and refreshing on his skin under the heat of the sun, the movement of the fish charming and entrancing, and for just a moment Kuro could pretend all was well.

And then there was the snap of a twig behind him.

Kuro whirled around, heart thundering, and his bare foot slipped in the mud. He barely managed to catch his balance with his foot submerged in the shallows, and he was certain for a moment that the near-fall had sealed his fate, had given his adversary ample time, an opportunity, to strike -

But Wolf only stood there, an arm length's away, hand outstretched as though he was about to catch Kuro from his fall. It took a moment of Kuro panting and clutching at his chest, right over the hole, before he could convince his panicked brain and pounding heart that everything was fine.

"Kuro."

"Where were you?" It came out more accusatory than Kuro intended, but if Wolf took offense he did not show it.

"I collected extra water and scouted the road." Wolf came closer, holding out a hand, and Kuro took it to step out of the stream. The twig snapping, Kuro realized a moment later from Wolf's silent footfalls, was probably intentional - likely an attempt to warn Kuro that Wolf was there without startling him, even if it hadn't worked. "I did not think you would wake while I was out."

"Well," Kuro hesitated briefly at the lack of any real response and finally said, "good morning."

Wolf's lips quirked into a ghost of a smile. "Good morning," he echoed. "Are you ready to go?"

A curious question, as though they really had the luxury to sit around and wait, but an appreciated sentiment nonetheless. Kuro nodded and let Wolf lead the way back to camp, the air about them still and quiet. Upon attempting to help Wolf dismantle the tent, he was waved off to wait, so Kuro stood back helplessly to watch while the shinobi gathered their things. It took mere minutes for Wolf to have everything packed up and ready without his help.

Wolf never needed his help. Even when he did require aid, it was never Kuro's.

Shocked at the sudden thought, Kuro almost missed Wolf's quiet prompt to start walking. Fighting the urge to shake his head free of such sentiments, Kuro followed by Wolf's side as they continued on to the next leg of the journey.

They did not speak much as they walked; along with the oppressive heat, there was little to say. With the events of the past day still hanging heavy over their heads, it felt wrong to chat as they usually did. To banter, to discuss plans, to talk about anything and everything when only a sunrise had passed since Aurelio -

- since Kuro -

Kuro fumbled for Wolf's hand before he even realized he was doing so, and Wolf squeezed his fingers reassuringly.

Never one to question him, always there for him. Wolf rarely faltered, never backed down, always supported and protected Kuro - and what did he get in return? Occasional thanks? His life in danger? Death? The same as everyone who came into contact with Kuro, and Wolf was unlucky enough to get to experience it time and time again. Not like others, their lives cut short merely for knowing him, for caring, for helping -

The sight of Aurelio's blood-soaked shirt and pale face was burned into his mind, the sensation of metal slicing through his own torso refusing to leave him fully, and though Kuro could finally breathe past the thoughts he still grew more hopeless with every passing second. The weight around his shoulders, likely meant to be consoling, only served to drag him down further.

He wished desperately he could think about something else, anything else. Be more like Wolf, who kept looking forward, kept walking, a pillar of strength as he kept the both of them moving toward their goal. Wolf, who had experienced the same loss, and was not allowing it to drag him down - Wolf, who was capable and reliable and held them both afloat when Kuro could not.

This was not even the first time. They had watched others die for them just on this journey, had grieved their losses. Wolf consoled him not only through grief, but through fear and pain, as well. Wolf was always there, and truly, Kuro asked himself again, for what? What did he gain?

Wolf may have worried about growing useless, but he would only be Kuro's equal if he did. Kuro could not save those they had lost, either. Kuro could only rely on others to help him, and watch as they were cut down for his sake, one by one, dropping like flies. Kuro was not a child anymore; he could not continue to force others to make up for his defenselessness.

"Kuro," Wolf spoke into the suffocatingly humid air, jolting him from his thoughts.

"Yes?"

"Your thoughts are loud."

"I'm sorry."

Wolf's fingers twitching minutely in his grasp told Kuro that was not what he wanted to hear, but the shinobi was patient when he asked, "Would you share them?"

Far more patient than Kuro had ever been when Wolf was working through his own issues. So good to him that Kuro almost denied the request, unwilling to place even more burden on the shinobi -

"You can say no," Wolf added quietly, "but I am here to listen."

Wolf listened plenty, be it orders or questions or even just Kuro's rambling filling the silence. Wolf had always preferred listening - this journey had made him so talkative Kuro nearly forgot it.

It was a struggle, truly, for Kuro to convince himself that Wolf would only ask if he was certain - a lengthy internal battle not to paint Wolf in such a light that he would only tell Kuro what he wanted to hear. Wolf was eager to please Kuro, but never through deception or dishonesty.

Wolf cared about Kuro, or at least the younger liked to think so.

"I want to learn to fight," Kuro said.

Wolf's hand went rigid in his own.

It was not even what Kuro had intended to say. There was much running through his head, thoughts painfully overactive, so full of blood and lingering pain and guilt and an overarching sense of worthlessness that the only natural progression was to do something about it. The words came unbidden to his lips and were in the air before he had the time to mull them over, and yet he did not disagree with them.

To learn to wield a sword, to become helpful, to lessen the burden he created - it was about time Kuro started to pull his weight.

"Absolutely not," was not the response he expected, and all Kuro could feel was defensive indignance in return.

"Why not?" It was shamefully close to petulant, no doubt unhelpful to his case, and Kuro could feel his cheeks heat with embarrassment. "I want to help!"

"You help plenty," Wolf replied with coolness so delicate it could shatter in a second. "You speak with the locals, you negotiate, you are diplomatic. You do not need a blade - you should not need a blade. I will take care of the rest."

"And when you can't do it alone?" Kuro pressed.

Wolf stopped in his tracks, and Kuro snatched his hand from the shinobi's suffocating grasp. In its place, Wolf's fingers clenched and unclenched - it was an unkind, unfair challenge, but so was it unkind and unfair for Wolf to shelter Kuro further when it was unwanted.

"You are a child."

It was said with all the strength of a man whose patience hung on by a very thin thread. It was not enough to smother Kuro's anger.

"I will not be a child forever," he snapped back. "You can't protect me for my entire life!"

Wolf was quiet for a long moment, so long that Kuro's fury began to simmer and he wondered if he had not struck a nerve. It - it had been his intention, but -

"Watch me," Wolf finally ground out, and continued down the path.

Wolf had done many questionable things in serving Kuro. Aside from the obvious - murder and deceit and foul play - he had been known to hide things from Kuro, to lie to him, to disobey him. All in Kuro's best interests, of course, always shown to be for his well-being, and Kuro could not fault him for it. After all, such disobedience was the reason Kuro was still alive now.

But to deny Kuro - to refuse him straight to his face - !

Were it not for the very real fear that Wolf would just throw him over his shoulder if he refused to move, Kuro would have remained rooted to the spot in defiance. Instead, he drug his feet and lagged several paces behind as they continued on their way.

"Why?"

The silence had been killing Kuro, but he would not break first. He refused to be the first to speak, to give in, to concede defeat. So when Wolf finally spoke up from his place stoking the fire, barely audible over the crackling of wood and chirping of crickets, Kuro nearly jumped out of his skin.

"Why what?" he asked warily, placing his hand over his chest to calm his racing heart.

"Why do you wish to learn?"

"I told you," Kuro said, irritation working into his tone, "I want to help."

"And I told you it is not necessary," Wolf replied coolly, infuriatingly so. "You are aware of that. So what is the real reason?"

"The real - ?!" The sudden, burning anger that response elicited had Kuro fumbling for words. "That is the real reason! Whatever your pride may tell you, your blade isn't enough to keep me safe! That day proved that!"

There was the distinct sensation of claws digging into his shoulder, eliciting a sharp wince, and the disapproval that radiated from the site was almost enough to shock Kuro into guilt. Almost enough to prevent the memories of that day from flooding back. Almost.

"It was not my blade that failed that day." Wolf's voice was strained. "Or were you lying when you told me it was not my fault?"

He - !

"I - !"

He had . . . a point, but -

The anger simmered, but what could Kuro say to that? How could he argue like this? He knew that was not the point he was trying to make, not trying to insult Wolf or make him seem useless - he knew Wolf worried about becoming unneeded, no matter how much Kuro had convinced him it could not happen - but he simply could not find the right words, his vocabulary lacking for the first time in his life.

None of his diplomacy could ever have prepared him to argue with Wolf.

"You," he finally said, "are being unfair." And he knew that to be true - Wolf knew, too. He knew he was twisting Kuro's words, his intent, but Kuro could not understand why.

Wolf almost laughed. It was a derisive sound that escaped him, so short and ugly it had to be unintentional.

"You told me once that you wanted to learn about the world." Wolf's voice was not hard when he spoke again, but the set of his jaw and the glare he directed at the fire were. "Here is a lesson for you - everything is unfair."

The dragon was heavier than it had ever been, an unspoken plea to stop, to bite his tongue down on the shapeless retort forming behind his lips. Amazingly, Kuro obeyed, but he kept his back to Wolf when he laid down, and did not manage much sleep that night, equal parts the fault of spite and nightmares.

The dragon had abandoned Kuro's shoulders in favor of Wolf's.

The tension between them was palpable, so thick and heavy that Kuro could slice through it with a tanto - if he had one. Stuck shadowing Wolf instead of walking beside him, he drug his feet through the dirt, kicking up annoying clouds that dusted his legs brown - which ached from walking in a way they never had before - and dirtied his yukata. His stomach growled and he covered it with irate hands - they had just eaten perhaps an hour before, so that was just another nuisance to add to the pile. No amount of stomping or huffing out annoyed sighs seemed to get Wolf's attention - or the dragon's. Or maybe it did, and they were both ignoring him, and perhaps that was the most infuriating part.

He could understand Wolf fighting him on this - well, no, he really couldn't, but Wolf was Wolf and even if a shinobi was supposed to be logical Wolf was not a normal shinobi - but the dragon had been there. The dragon had watched it happen. The dragon had failed to stop it.

Kuro began to cough as the dirt he kicked up settled in his throat, and rolled his eyes when that was what caught Wolf's attention, if only long enough to be sure it was nothing serious.

The dragon had seen everything, known everything, and the message was clear - it took Wolf's side anyway. And, as with a million other things at the moment, Kuro could not figure out why.

Another day of stiff, silent travel took them to the next village, where they restocked on food and searched for an inn - or rather, Wolf restocked, and Kuro was as short and uncooperative as possible when speaking for him. He almost did not want to speak at all - wanted to keep silent protest and hold their amenities ransom until Wolf gave in - but in a battle of willpower (and hunger), Kuro had no hope of winning. They were equally stubborn, but Wolf was more capable.

And oh, how that thought stung and simmered and ached. Wolf was capable, and here, without his title, Kuro was nothing but a child, no matter how much he grew.

It was after perhaps an hour of such behavior, a cross of wallowing and silent protest, that Wolf inevitably grew tired. There was a well in the center of the village, and it was here he stopped and turned to his charge, clearly frustrated at the lack of progress they were making. For the first time since their argument had started - a day, maybe a day and a half with the sun setting? - Wolf touched him, but only by steering him to sit with firm hands on his shoulders.

"Stay," he ordered. "I will return."

"And if I don't?" was Kuro's instinctive snap back.

It was so stupid, so childish - this had absolutely nothing to do with their fight, Kuro was just so angry and felt unheard and it was growing into an ugly, insatiable need to spite Wolf at every turn, and the shinobi was not unaffected. He paused halfway through turning, glared back at Kuro, and the boy almost recoiled at the look in his eyes. It was as though his gaze was a threat all in its own - if Kuro did not obey for this, this tiny request, this instance where Wolf was not asking much, the thin line of patience he had been treading (the line that Kuro had been stomping all over) was liable to snap.

"Stay. Put."

Kuro had never heard that tone in his life. Not just toward himself, but toward anyone - not just from Wolf, but from anyone. A spark of fear had Kuro instinctively hunching his shoulders and clasping his hands in his lap, and for just an instant before Wolf turned away from him he caught a glimpse of his expression softening.

Before Wolf was out of sight, a familiar weight settled in Kuro's lap, and it slowed the heartbeat he had not noticed had spiked.

The dragon felt . . . bigger, somehow. It was something he had hardly noticed, only vaguely wondered about for a while, but with the sheer amount of space it took up on his lap he was sure of it now. What would have led to such a phenomenon, Kuro was unsure, and if the dragon knew it was not telling.

It was a long time he spent sitting there, watching the sun dip behind the houses and people return inside their homes, so long that Kuro almost began to worry that Wolf would not return. It was absurd, of course; Wolf was irate, but more mature than to abandon him over a fight. Right? It was silly to worry - Wolf would return, nothing would happen to Kuro in his absence, this wasn't last time, they'd go back to arguing once Kuro knew he was safe again and it'd be fine -

You should not fight.

It startled Kuro to hear the voice; the dragon had not manifested its thoughts so tangibly since they met the King of the Eastern Sea, and then, it had spoken through its heir. Now, the sound echoed through his head, and were it not for the tone being so drastically different from his own voice Kuro might have assumed it was something far sillier. His conscience, perhaps.

"Wolf is just - he's being stubborn," Kuro muttered.

As are you. The dragon paused as though taking a deep, soothing breath. He is doing what he thinks is best.

"He's letting his fear control his judgment," Kuro snapped, and if he could see the dragon he knew it would be cocking its head at him.

And you are not?

"I'm being honest," Kuro said defensively, and the dragon's aged, deep voice was an amused scoff in his head.

With whom?

Even if the dragon was not truly his conscience, it was sure acting like one. Kuro opened his mouth to retort - what is that supposed to mean, what do you know, get out of my head -

Feet wandered into his view, and Kuro jumped at the sight, jerking his head up and almost sighing in relief to find it was only Wolf. For too long a moment, he forgot his irritation, and Wolf's voice was not unkind when he spoke once more, controlled and even.

"I apologize for losing my temper. Come."

It took a long while for Kuro to remember he was supposed to be angry, so glad that Wolf even came back that he nearly forgot everything else. Instead he noted how Wolf was gone for so long, how anything could have happened, how the dragon's presence was not a relief and how Wolf seemed to return empty-handed so why did he leave for so long?

He hadn't even the sense to drag his feet moodily until they had walked past at least four houses, and it was as he regained his sense that Wolf decided to speak again.

"I will ask you one more time," he said, and already Kuro began to bristle. There was his indignance, flaring back up at what sounded so simple but was undoubtedly a challenge. "Why do you truly want to fight?"

And Kuro opened his mouth to retort, and claws dug into his shoulder, and he clamped his mouth shut. As are you, the dragon had sighed when Kuro had complained that Wolf was being stubborn, and he knew he could not stick to his guns. With whom, the dragon had challenged when Kuro defended his honesty, and he knew there was something he was hiding from himself. Intentionally? He was not sure.

All he knew was that he could still feel the initial burn and deep ache of steel impaling his flesh, skewering him like fresh meat, rendering him speechless and immobile and he never wanted to feel like that again -

"Kuro?"

Wolf's voice was hesitant, worried. Always putting Kuro's well-being first. Always setting aside everything, even their feud, to make sure he was alright.

"Wolf," Kuro answered, and why was his voice cracking? Why was his vision blurring? "I'm scared."

Oh, he thought as he said it, and felt something rough and scaly nuzzle reassuringly against his cheek for a brief moment. Wolf's sigh was weary but gentle, and he lagged back to rest a guiding hand on Kuro's shoulder so they could continue to walk.

"Of course you're scared," he said. "It's only natural."

"I don't want to be," Kuro all but cried out, and covered his mouth against a bubble that rose in his chest and would undoubtedly escape as a sob if he allowed it to be. This was not what he had wanted. This emotion, this weakness - how could he convince Wolf he could be a warrior when he wept like a child? "I'm so tired of being scared! I'm always scared by something or other, but not like this - never like this - e-every time I'm alone I'm so terrified a-and when I close my eyes I can still f-feel it - !"

They were in the middle of the street when Wolf halted in his tracks and pulled Kuro close, but there was nobody around to see, no one to complain or judge. Kuro's fingers curled automatically in his haori and hid his face in Wolf's chest and the embrace was warm and familiar and smelled like home. His mind was an angry tug-of-war between a piece of him that had not even realized how deeply he missed this closeness, and another part of him that seethed that here he was again, as always, weeping like a child and seeking comfort he should not need.

It was not until his tears subsided that Wolf pulled away, hands firm on Kuro's shoulders, face soft and patient as Kuro rubbed his eyes. "I-I'm sorry," the younger hiccuped. "I told you I wasn't a child, but I . . . "

"Learning to fight will not make you grow up," Wolf said, and Kuro cast his eyes downward. "Nor will it erase your fear. You will always be afraid."

Kuro snapped his head up at that, beginning to protest, "I'll always - ?"

Raising his voice, pointedly, Wolf continued, "However, learning to defend yourself can help you harness that fear."

And then he pulled away the side of his haori that was not tied down and reached behind him, and pulled a sheathed blade from his obi. He balanced it between both palms, and for a long moment all Kuro could see was the night he was taken by Genichiro - Wolf kneeling before him, accepting Kusabimaru - but this time it was Kuro himself that hesitantly took the offered blade into his own hands. It was shorter than Wolf's, and heavier than expected, and the sheath plain and unmarked, but it was -

"For me?" Kuro whispered, and where he thought there might be excitement he only felt apprehension. More heavy than the blade was the weight of its promise, and he met Wolf's stare with wide eyes. "I thought you - " he started, and then, "How did you get this?"

"It does not take many words to show an example of what I am looking for," Wolf replied, sounding almost amused. "Now come. I have much to teach you."

"I thought you didn't want me to learn," Kuro said, following at Wolf's side as they continued down the path. "Not that I'm complaining, I just . . . "

"I still do not." The words were not unkind, but not soft, either. "But I spoke with the dragon, and we agree - to fight for yourself is different than to fight for me."

"It spoke to you too?"

A simple nod in response. It was . . . it was as though the dragon was growing stronger throughout their journey, able to manifest more. Hadn't he remarked on its size, as well? Perhaps as they grew closer to its home? Time would tell, Kuro decided.

"Say . . . " Wolf's inquisitive hum prompted Kuro to continue. "Are . . . are you ever afraid?"

It was a silly question. Everyone felt fear now and then, and surely Wolf was no different. But what Kuro did not expect was for Wolf to sigh and reply, "Always."

Shifting to hold his new blade in one arm, he reached for Wolf's hand with the other, and the shinobi accepted it with familiar warmth.