Chapter Eight

Juudai smiled at the clear blue sky, stretching his arms up as far as he could and pretending that he could grasp it with his hands from this distance. He closed his eyes, fingers curling in and short nails digging into his palms. Maybe if the Academy's main building had been taller, he reasoned, he could have captured it. Perhaps if he climbed up further, if he found a way to scale the dome up here, he could really reach the sky. His smile grew to a grin. He would have to present that idea to Kenzan or Shou or Manjoume when he came down off the roof later.

It was nice up here, though; it was quiet and calm and peaceful, and Juudai always felt very close to the sky here. In a way, he thought that it was odd that only on the main building's roof did he ever wonder how far away the sky really was, or what it would feel like in his hands. Juudai had never been the type of guy who wanted everything, or who dreamt of flying and feeling free in the wind. To be honest, Juudai usually did not like relaxing places like this. Juudai liked loud and active places, fun places with lots of people, or places set up for sleeping through the boring parts of life. He liked Rintama and duel fields, big arenas with lots of stadium seats for the audience. Juudai liked bathhouses and hot springs and his thinking cliff with the great view. He liked the Osiris Red dorms and he used to like Daitokuji's classroom back in his freshman year, too. And then he liked the roof of the Academy's main hall, because it was big and warm and close to the sky. Also, it was the only place where he could sleep for hours and never be found.

Not being found was a very important detail right now, because he had just met some of this year's new freshmen, and Rei was back. Juudai shuddered a little as he remembered his reason for escaping to this quiet hideaway. Saotome Rei had finally managed to transfer over to Duel Academy from North after Manjoume granted her wish at the end of the GeneX tournament last year, even though she was still technically too young to attend a high school. Now she was back, prowling around the Osiris Red boys' dorms looking for him.

Juudai threw an arm over his eyes, blocking out the view of the sun and sky. He did not like girls like Rei: girls who were pushy and demanding and thought about that obnoxious lovey-dovey crap all the time. Guys who liked girls would be distracted from the things that were really important, mainly friends, card games, and saving the world from burning death. To be honest, he still had not quite forgiven her for brainwashing his poor Featherman and Sparkman during their first duel. He and his cards were heroes, damn it! They were like the Last Samurai, the final and most hardcore hold-out against the destructive wiles of women!

It occurred to Juudai then that being the Last Samurai would mean that he would have to get rid of all the idol cards he kept in his deck. He cursed, grumbling about how totally not cool that was, and wondering why Manjoume and Misawa both had to fall victim to his arch nemeses: girls. But that was fine, because Juudai was tough enough to carry the torch of machismo all by himself, without their help.

Mostly, though, Juudai had just come to the conclusion that he could not afford to lose any focus this year on girls, not when he was so easily distracted anyway. He was still having trouble seeing the spirits of his duel monsters, but it had gotten better since arriving back at school; Neos had appeared after the assembly to tell him that everything would be all right, and to remind him that all of the Neospacians were here to fight their hardest for him. He was the planet's savior, their intergalactic hero. He had banished the Light, and they had become his army. It was all reassuring, but not enough to convince him to ignore the feeling of being watched or to make him feel safe enough to take off the amulet. No matter what he did, he kept coming back to that fear: was the Light still out there?

Was Saiou still alive?

His hands clenched convulsively at the thought. It should not have been possible, not after what he had seen; certainly not after what he had done. Still, Juudai could not help but wonder if that was the case. Had Saiou somehow survived that beating? Was he in hiding, waiting for Juudai to let his guard down? Was Saiou looking down at those freaky cards of his and laughing at him for having fallen into a trap? Juudai sat up suddenly, arms falling back to support himself as he looked up to the sky again, eyes narrowed against the light.

Against the light. . . against the Light. . . He scowled, dragging his gaze back down to the rooftop beneath him. He did not want to think about that kind of thing, did not want to have to set aside his childishness just yet. Juudai wanted to stay a fool, wanted to keep laughing and smiling and giving people "Gotcha" fingers when he won. He wanted to enjoy himself before he had to grow up again.

"Kuri?"

Juudai's head jerked towards the source of the sound, his previous worries and fears –the gleam of gold, that harsh edge of adulthood – fading back into the recesses of his mind. He could worry later.

"Hey, partner!" he laughed the title, a grin quickly spreading across his features as he regarded the spirit fondly. It had been a long time since he had seen Winged Kuriboh, and he had missed the thin, incorporeal vision of his most trusted companion. The creature's hairy body was tilted to the side; watery brown eyes narrowed just a little in the way that let Juudai know that his partner was worried about him. "Have any ideas for getting Rei to give up her part-time job as a stalker?"

"Kurikuri. . ." it trailed off absently, white wings fluttering behind it as it floated through the air towards the stairs leading off the roof. Winged Kuriboh paused over the top of the stairs, looking down and making small, confused cooing sounds at what it saw. Juudai pushed himself to his feet, and was about to head over when something poked its head up into view.

Whatever the creature was, it looked furry and surprisingly real, though Juudai was not sure how that was possible. It was not hazy or indistinct the way that Winged Kuriboh was, and so he had to assume that it was not a duel spirit. The creature was a vivid purple-blue with two sets of comically large ears that fanned out and seemed to be connected by web-like skin. It had large red eyes that shone like masterfully cut gems and a shiny shard of stone pressed into its forehead between them. The peculiar animal rose up over the final step as if to look around the rooftop, but then it seemed to spot Winged Kuriboh and scampered up to give chase. Winged Kuriboh squeaked, and fluttered back towards Juudai.

"Huh, what is that? A squirrel?" Juudai squinted at it, though that did not help him to determine the creature's species any better. Its underbelly was pale blue, its tail long and flexible, more reminiscent of a cat than a squirrel. At the tip of that tail, the fur came up against a round gemstone that should have been much too big and heavy to be supported there. Juudai blinked, and then squinted again as if that might somehow help him to find the answer.

Someone was walking up the steps behind the creature, calling out to it in some foreign language that Juudai did not recognize. Juudai brought his gaze back to the stairs in time to see that another boy had joined him on the rooftop. He had wild hair and bright green eyes that Juudai noticed even from this distance, a wide smile and sharply western European features. The boy came closer, and the creature, as if sensing his presence, ran back to meet him, running up the length of his black pants and crossing behind his back to rest on his shoulder like some kind of bizarre parrot. Juudai stared, watching uncertainly as the stranger rubbed the animal's head with one hand.

". . . You can see him, too, can't you?" At first, Juudai had thought that the boy was talking to his pet, but when the foreigner looked up and met his steady gaze, Juudai realized that the question had been intended for him. He nodded numbly, and the boy's smile grew. Who was this guy, and what was that creature? It could be touched and pet, and yet it pawed at the air where Winged Kuriboh flitted about anxiously. Juudai took a moment to clear his head, eying the boy again. He noted the duel disk on his free arm, his gaze traveling up the loose lavender sleeve to the blue underclassman vest, and vaguely wondered why no one had bothered to tell the boy that only Obelisk girls wore them.

"Uhm, are you new? I've never seen you in class before. . ." for a second, the boy looked confused, as if he were having trouble understanding the question. It occurred to Juudai then that the guy was really foreign, and that his Japanese might be a little rusty. "I mean, this is your first year here, right?"

The boy laughed, dropping his hand from the creature's head and gesturing absently as he answered:

"Well, when you put it that way, yeah; I'm a new student at this Academy." Juudai raised a brow curiously at the response, but shrugged it off as just another. . . foreigner thing. Sure, he was a little weird, but he looked too young to do much damage. Besides, if he had really been a bad guy, he would have set off Juudai's villain-alarm by now. The creature scurried down from the boy's shoulder, stopping to sit up on its hind legs on the rooftop. Winged Kuriboh soon joined it, and they leaned into each other, sniffing cautiously.

"Well, I hope you enjoy the new year. It's gonna be quieter than the last two, but still good," he chuckled a little to himself, thinking back to some of the fun times he had had and ignoring the more serious memories. Juudai pointed to his chest as he introduced himself. "I'm Yuki Juudai, but you can just call me 'sempai,' okay? If there's anything you need, just talk to me."

"Johan Andersen," the new student replied, offering Juudai his hand. Juudai took the hand in his own for a firm shake. Something passed between them in that moment, something intangible and important that Juudai could not quite name or place. He paused, still holding Johan's hand as he looked down. Their arms were not moving, the gesture more clasp than shake. Distinctly, he felt the soft texture of Johan's palm, noted the lack of calluses on his fingers as they wrapped around his hand. A strange and wholly unfamiliar emotion swept through him, and although he knew his lips were moving, no sound came forth.

"Y'know, I have a weird feeling about you. . ." Juudai began when he had finally managed to get a hold of his faculties again, but soon trailed off, unsure of how to finish. The feeling, that new emotion, was alien, but not altogether unpleasant: it was similar to recognition, but somehow different. His hands remembered this shake, this touch, even if his mind could not. Johan's grin turned slightly mischievous, as if he was privy to some special secret unbeknown to Juudai.

"Like this isn't the first time we've met?"

"How'd you know?" Before Johan could explain, however, Winged Kuriboh and the red-eyed creature started fighting. Johan and Juudai look down at them in surprise, but did not release each other immediately. After a moment, Johan let go and picked the animal up, frowning as he held it close to his chest and scolded it. "Don't pick on guys weaker than you, Ruby."

Juudai scoffed, clearly offended. "My partner is anything but weak! He could take on your funny-lookin' squirrel anytime!"

"Ruby is not a squirrel! He's a carbuncle, and he was about to eat your precious little partner for lunch."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, and I'll prove it to you in a duel!"

"Now you're talkin' my language!"

It was practically second nature as Juudai reached for his duel disk, strapping it on and slapping his deck into the device shortly after Johan did the same. They had taken several steps back, giving each other room for their cards on the rooftop.

"You don't know how long I've been waiting for this opportunity," Johan exclaimed as he drew the first card. At a look from Juudai, he elaborated excitedly. "I didn't mean to deceive you, Juudai, but I already knew who you were as soon as I saw Winged Kuriboh. The truth is that I transferred here from North Academy just to duel you and see the power of your rumored Neospacian deck for myself! I have to know if it will hold up to my legendary Gem Beasts."

"Gem Beasts?" Juudai was torn between his natural curiosity regarding new cards and the desire to run away and hide from yet another potential stalker. Wasn't this getting a little out of hand? First Rei, and now this Johan. . . Maybe it was a North Academy thing. Come to think of it, even Manjoume had admitted that he had come back for the school's hero early in their second year.

"You've never heard of them?" he looked over his hand as he talked. Juudai had not even so much as glanced at his starting cards yet. "Julius Caesar gathered seven of the most brilliant and powerful jewels from across his empire during the peak of Roman conquest, as proof of Rome's control over the known world. The legend says that he had been planning to use those gems to make a tablet that would grant him contact with the underworld, and the place between shadows. But while those jewels were en route to the capital, the ship they were on ran into a storm, and the stones were lost to the sea. That was where Industrial Illusions found them, and Pegasus himself ground each gem down to powder and mixed it with the paint he used to create the picture on each card.

"Don't worry, it gets better," Johan said it in a rush when he noticed Juudai's attention wandering. He paused for effect, trying to build tension between them and recapture his one-man audience. Juudai thought the whole thing would have gone over better if they were standing on opposite sides of the field in the big Dueling Arena, complete with filled seats and roaring crowd, maybe with some really intense school pride on the line. Johan probably did better in those kinds of spotlight situations, he decided. "He never sold the cards. Instead, he held an enormous, world-wide tournament to determine who would get the core cards to create a deck based around the Gem Beasts. And that's how I got them. I was the tournament champion, and from there, I went to North Academy, where I became the strongest—"

"Yeah, 'cause Manjoume left two years ago," Juudai teased, snickering at the flush of color that stained the pale European's face.

"Two years ago, I didn't even have the Gem Beasts!" Johan snapped, slashing the air in front of him with his free arm vehemently to emphasize his point. "Even if Manjoume was still at North, I have no doubt that I could take him on. Before, I could never fight with all that I had, but now it's like the pieces of my heart have been restored! When I duel with the strength of the Gem Beasts at my back, I can pour everything into each new battle. They are more than just cards, Juudai; they are my friends— no, my family. There is nothing like this, this rush of fighting with all that you have and giving each new battle your best!"

"I'm really glad for you; it's awesome that you're so close to your cards, and I know what you mean when you say that they're like family," Juudai had begun with a soft tone and understanding twitch of mouth that did not quite reach his brown eyes. As he went on, though, that tone turned snide and his partial smile fell away entirely. "But could you play the damn card already? I'll see for myself just how awesome your Gem Beasts are, but I think I should warn you that I'm not very good at waiting."

Johan grimaced, shoulders coming up and head dropping at the reprimand. For a brief moment, Juudai wondered if he had been too harsh with the boy, but shook his head absently as if to clear it of such thoughts. It would have been a lie to say that he was not interested in the boy's deck or in the playful secret that he was hiding, but he still did not have the time to be getting distracted. The longer they stood here, the more pressed he felt for answers that he did not have to questions that he could not say aloud. His fanboy would have to wait until the heroes had beaten all the villains if he wanted to make a name for himself here. Johan stuttered over an apology and took his turn.

"Come on, Thunder-san: say it. I dare you."

"I hate you," he snarled out the words through bared teeth, dark eyes narrowed into an angry glare. Manjoume's hands were clenched into fists on top of the desk, his shoulders trembling with unspent tension. He wanted nothing more than to lash out at his loud-mouthed companion, to wipe away that condescending little smirk and break the other boy's arm to keep him from giving one more goddamn "Gotcha." If that was all it took to keep Juudai from talking about one percent, it would be worth it; perhaps if the boy could not use his quick hands his luck would finally run out. Juudai laughed, head tilting up slightly as he leaned forward on the desk from the opposite side, supporting his weight with both hands and looking down on the younger boy.

"Liar," Juudai's tone did not quite match his smile; brutally rough from the unaccustomed drop to his lower register. Manjoume scowled, and looked away sharply. He had meant it. That really was how he felt towards the school's hero, but at the same time Juudai was absolutely right: he really was a liar. Juudai brought one hand up to emphasize his point by leveling two fingers at his subject, sneering. "If you hate me so much, why are you so afraid of winning?"

Manjoume swallowed hard, flinching at the accusation. Yet another half-truth, though he was reluctant to admit to it. Without a holy cause or Christ to follow, the Hanged Man had made a noose of his ineffective pride and hung himself again. He had gone back to that branch, back to letting his talents and potential rot as he hung suspended in indecision. So afraid of failure, of losing everything that he had left, he no longer strove to gain more, to better himself or to step beyond the cramped boundaries of his comfort zone. He had found acceptance outside of himself, and thus refused to move on. He had never dealt well with pressure, and since his meltdown two years ago he had found himself satisfied with second place, with playing the comedic part of sidekick to the laughing Fool.

He hated Juudai for always succeeding, for being the Golden Boy who never did anything wrong. He hated Juudai for never getting caught or giving in. He hated that sly smile that gave away the boy's true nature when he stopped caring about who might notice, hated the way Juudai took advantage of everyone and everything around him. He hated that obnoxious catchphrase and gesture, and the way that people always forgave him for being so insincere and self-absorbed.

But he hated himself more for choosing to look the other way and go along with the whole charade.

"I'm not having this conversation with you."

"And why's that?" There was a faint glimmer of gold on the edge of Manjoume's periphery vision, and he did not need to look up to know that it was reflected in Juudai's gaze. A subtle hissing rose up between them, a sound like hostile snakes whispering over his skin. He tried not to shudder at the imagery, at the sick black feeling that came with it. "Finally tired of losing?"

"Shut up!" he was practically screaming the command as he jerked to his feet abruptly, his arm coming up and back as he prepared to knock that stubborn grin off of Juudai's face once and for all. He held his arm there for a moment longer, channeling his ever growing hostility into unspent momentum while he grabbed the older boy by the collar of his jacket before letting his fist fly. But just as the blow was about to land, Juudai was gone; or rather, the image of Juudai was gone, because the school's hero had never been there in the first place. He was alone in the room. Manjoume fell forward with a startled yelp, only just catching himself before his own momentum carried him over the desk. He stared at the empty space where Juudai should have been, not in surprise at the boy's disappearance, but rather in helpless rage as he realized that he could not fight or suppress his own insecurities.

And, of course, Manjoume just had to be crazy enough to manifest those fears of inadequacy as a vivid hallucination. This was not a new trend, but a familiar – and ultimately frustrating – habit of his.

The door to the room opened then, and the intrusion on his privacy shook Manjoume back to reality. His head snapped up and his eyes widened at the sight of two green berets entering with loaded rifles in hand. It occurred to him that they must have heard him screaming, that now they knew that there was no one and nothing else here but his own insanity. He stiffened, waiting. They stopped a few feet away from the door, one of them tilting dark sunglasses down to look over the rims at him. A gloved hand was raised, motioning for Manjoume to come down from the fifth row of the classroom's tiered seating. Cautiously, Manjoume walked down the steps, watching the two men tuck their sunglasses into the breast pockets of their respective uniform jackets. He halted on the final step with his head raised defiantly. If they were expecting him to be frightened, then they would be sorely disappointed.

The last thing, however, that Manjoume was expecting was for those two Morality Committee members to drop to one knee in front of him and remove the green berets from their bowed heads.

"Forgive us, sir, for our behavior, but we had to be careful and could not risk approaching you before now," the first began, and Manjoume was even more startled to realize that he recognized that young man in a vague way, although he could not place a name to the familiar face. "But it is urgent."

"Both of us were in the Society of Light last year, and because of that, we are under the vigilant watch of our superior officers, just as you are," the other young man explained, looking up with a bright and fervent expression of hero-worship.

"Wait, but I—" Manjoume had been going to defend himself. These men had to be mistaken; there was no reason for him to be under anyone's surveillance, at least not this early in the year. There had not been time to get into trouble yet. He was just about to feed them the same sorry story about brainwashing and memory loss, about being unwilling to go along with those 'crazy cultists in white,' when he was interrupted by the first green beret:

"Please, White Thunder!" he begged him, his voice wrought with desperation. "Tell us that we're not the only ones who remember the glory of God and the mercy that the Light has shown us."

The protests died in his throat, his breathing hitching slightly. They had admitted to remembering the Society of Light. They knew about its original intent and purpose of spreading the word of God through Saiou's vision and ability to communicate with the Holy Light. Manjoume's mouth moved silently for a moment until he managed to compose himself again.

"You are not alone in your faith," he reassured them quickly, glancing to the closed door warily. It occurred to him that this could be some kind of trap, but Manjoume soon dismissed that possibility. He knew that the first young man was telling the truth about having been a member of the Society of Light; Manjoume remembered recruiting him early on, though he had not been in uniform at the time. And while that fact alone guaranteed nothing, the fortunate timing of their meeting had not escaped his notice. He had been struggling with his faith, with his doubt and guilt, and here they were to assure him that he had not damned himself to hanging. Regardless of how or why they had sought him out, this was a perfect opportunity to figure out what had become of the true believers, and what was happening now on this island. He squared his shoulders and felt the comforting weight of religious confidence descend upon them, as if his old title were a mantle that they had draped over him. "You don't need to show me that kind of deference; I was merely a messenger of the Prophet. Now then, tell me your names."

The two young men hurried to their feet, and the first placed a hand over his heart as he spoke:

"I am Akihara Genji. I was the one hundred-forty-fourth member to be inducted into of the Society of Light by you last year."

"Fuuma Naoki, one hundred and fifty-second member," he rushed his introduction and began to explain in earnest. "And we came to warn you to be careful. The entire Morality Committee is up in arms because of how powerful the Society had grown to be. There's a huge power shift now that Lord Raphael is personally involved; he's getting rid of all the officers who were in charge last year, and he's ordered us to place anyone who was associated with the Society before you left under surveillance. If he suspects that you have kept your faith in the Light, you will be in great danger."

"Who is this Lord Raphael, anyway?"

"The head and founder of the Order," the other hurried to answer Manjoume's question first, reaching up to his neck and pulling a necklace out from where it had been tucked into his shirt to help him elaborate. The necklace consisted of something strange and green, some foreign metal or bizarre stone, on a simple silver chain. Manjoume raised a brow curiously.

"The Order?"

"Das demütig dieners aus der Oberster Oberbefehlshaber von Mennscheit," Naoki's German was ugly and haltingly spoken, tainted and mispronounced through his Japanese. Still, Manjoume recognized it and was able to translate; he had been required to take a foreign language elective in middle school, and had continued with it into his high school years. It had not occurred to him that he would ever need to use German outside of a classroom or far-off business venture, and it took him a moment longer than he thought strictly necessary to make out the phrase's meaning. Humble servants of the Supreme Commander of Mankind. . .? It was certainly a mouthful. As if reading his mind, Naoki continued. "We usually call it Doom, or just 'the Order,' for short."

"Lord Raphael is a man of God, and a warrior of the Avatar of His Holy Spirit."

"Can you not see his wings, White Thunder?" Naoki questioned rapturously, his gaze faraway as he continued with a wistful smile. "There is an angel that follows Lord Raphael; sometimes, even I can see her trailing behind him, and her beauty is truly amazing."

"A man of faith, you say?" Manjoume paused thoughtfully, considering the implications. This was definitely an unexpected turn of events. Who would have thought that the M-16 toting Morality Committee was a front for yet another Judeo-Christian cult? Then again, his own religious leader had wanted to burn the world clean by means of a giant laser satellite. Obviously, both Doom and the White Order were adamant followers of the Old Testament God. "If that's true, why is he so against the Society of Light?"

"I don't know his exact reasoning. But I do know that the Order believes itself to be the one true way as shown to Lord Raphael by the Holy Avatar. We were originally told that the Society was corrupted by evil," Genji was hesitant, toying with his weapon's shoulder strap nervously as he waited for a nod from the student in black, his voice growing quieter as he went on. "And later, we saw for ourselves that even in the White Order, it was becoming more and more corrupt. People joined not to find the Lord God, but for their own aggrandizement; they worshiped themselves and each other. We were not surprised to see it turn in and ultimately destroy itself."

Naoki elbowed him sharply with a glare before turning his attention back to Manjoume. "If it pleases you, White Thunder, Lord Raphael will be giving a speech in the barracks tomorrow night for the members of Doom stationed here: would you like to hear him speak? I'm sure that between the three of us we could get you a spare uniform, and it might shed more light on your questions than we can."

"The 'three of us?'"

"Shakku is the man guarding the door," Naoki made a vague gesture behind him towards the closed entrance. Manjoume frowned at the unfamiliar name, and the green beret laughed a little. "He wasn't part of the Society, but he's a good man: transferred here from the training camp a few months ago. He's French, like Lord Raphael, but we can't really say his name right. Besides, it's a surprisingly fitting nick—"

The door opened again, and another member of the Morality Committee ducked his head in. Manjoume assumed that this was the man they called 'Shark.'

"Hurry it up. Shift replacement just radioed in, said they're on their way to round up students getting moved to the new dorm."

"Don't worry, White Thunder," both Genji and Naoki bowed low to Manjoume before putting their headgear back on and moving their rifles back down to low-ready. "We'll contact you soon. Until then, try not to catch Doom's attention."

It had been a long time since Kenzan had been in the Ra Yellow dorms. Even though he had technically been in Ra Yellow last year, he had spent almost every waking moment with his brother and friends in Osiris Red; he had even slept over there for most nights. But now that those angry guys in green had showed up, it seemed like that was going to have to change. He had attempted to strong-arm one of them into backing off while moving his stuff into Juudai's old dorm room, but it had not gone quite as planned. The back of his head still hurt from where the green beret had slammed the butt of his rifle into it.

Kenzan had been forced to move his things back into his own room in Ra Yellow, and now, as he had just finished, he found himself wandering aimlessly towards the first floor dorm lounge. Really, the whole situation was just stupid. . . Hell, Kenzan didn't even know his new roommate! The boy he was being forced to live with was small and passive, and had whimpered meekly when Kenzan snarled at him to relinquish the top bunk, only to come to the sharp and infuriating realization that there was no top bunk, because Ra Yellow did not believe in bunk beds. He almost hoped that Shou would drop down from Obelisk Blue, just so that he could move in with a friend; it was unlikely that Juudai was ever moving up.

"Well, this is just getting ridiculous. . ."

"Huh?" Kenzan was shaken from his thoughts by the mumbled statement, and he leaned against the doorframe of the dorm lounge with large arms crossed over his broad chest. Sitting on the couch, a familiar face looked up at the intrusion with a sheepish grin, catching a finger in the dark green collar of his turtleneck and pulling it away from his skin a little. It took Kenzan a moment to recognize the upperclassman, though. "What's up, Misawa-don?"

"Er. . . I, uhm, I didn't see you there, Kenzan," Misawa's confession caused the younger boy to roll his eyes. He was kind of hard to miss, really. Just how often did giant dreadlocked dinosaurs wander around this campus, anyway? He watched as Misawa tucked his palm pilot away in the pocket of his jacket. "I was, er. . . checking my email."

"And? What's up?" Kenzan asked again, tugging at one of his sleeves just below the shoulder in annoyance. Though he had been issued new uniforms this year, the company that made them did not seem to take into account the possibility that muscular kids might want to go to a high school for card games; the jacket was a little too tight, and often felt like it was cutting off the circulation to his arms. Ordinarily, this was not a problem for Kenzan, but those damn green berets had felt the urge to remind him that uniform changes were not being allowed this year. He had been forced to relinquish the jackets he had turned into vests. What did they think that he was: some kind of tiny-armed Tyranno?

"Well, I. . . I seem to have gotten really popular over the summer, but I'm not sure why," the older boy admitted, the sound of his confused tone bringing Kenzan back from his brooding again. Misawa put one hand to his chin thoughtfully, the back of the other coming to rest against his elbow as he crossed that arm over his stomach. It was a serious pose, an intellectual stance vaguely reminiscent of The Thinker, but with better posture. "All of the arriving freshmen have recognized me so far, and three girls have asked me out today. It's not even the first day of school! Classes haven't even started yet! This doesn't make any sense to me. . ."

"You have girl problems, sempai?" Kenzan sounded incredulous as he joined the senior on the sofa. He removed his jacket and let it fall over one leg, putting his elbows up over the back of the couch as he tilted his head up to look at the ceiling. "You're right: that is weird."

"Ha ha, very funny," Misawa grumbled dryly, shooting a glare at the other student. Kenzan responded with a toothy grin. They both knew that Misawa had trouble getting anyone to acknowledge or remember him – even his close friends. So the idea that a bunch of freshmen girls had taken time out of their busy schedules to talk to him was one of the stranger and more unnatural occurrences that could have happened on this campus. It was certainly the last thing Kenzan was expecting to hear from the little hermit.

"So. . . were any of the girls cute?" he asked after a moment of silence, nudging the senior roughly. Misawa only shrugged and shook his head.

"They weren't my type," he explained simply.

"You said they were freshmen, right? Were any of them. . . my type?" Kenzan suggested hopefully. This time it was Misawa's turn to roll his eyes. He added a somewhat dramatic – but completely unnecessary – sigh.

"If by 'your type' you mean 'were any of them dressed in ruffles and lace and underage,' the answer is no."

"Hey! I've never dated anyone who was underage!" Kenzan jumped to his feet defensively, fists rising like he was getting ready for a fight. If Misawa even thought of arguing that statement, he fully intended on breaking the guy's nose. Almost as an afterthought, he amended his previous comment. "And my last girlfriend doesn't count because she told me that she was thirteen. How was I supposed to know that was a lie-don?"

"I have no idea why you like girls like that. . ." Misawa just sighed some more and shook his head again, as if he could not believe that he was stuck dealing with such a child. Who did he think he was that he could belittle other people's personal preferences, anyway? Kenzan dropped his fighting stance rather abruptly when a mortifying thought occurred to him.

". . . You. . . you like older women, don't you, sempai?"

"Yes, I do." Misawa crossed his arms over his chest, picking up Kenzan's discarded defensive behavior. "My preference is strong, capable, independent older women. Especially redheads."

Kenzan threw his arms up in exasperation, coupling the action with a scowl and frustrated exclamation. Go figure. . . it was no wonder that the guy was a total loser. "Japanese culture is wasted on men like you."

"Just because you want to date prepubescent little girls does not mean that all Japanese men have a Lolita complex, nor should they!"

"There's nothing wrong with liking cute, petite women-don!"

"Except that you don't like women, Kenzan. You like little girls, and in most countries, that's illegal," Misawa pointed out, a victorious smirk playing on his mouth when he finished. Kenzan stuttered for a moment, fumbling for some kind of comeback. What the hell does a man say to that kind of accusation? Why, yes, sir, and that's why I'm glad I'm from a country where the age of consent is so low. Somehow, Kenzan did not think that would help his cause. So instead he opted for a less condemning, and ultimately less clever, retort:

"Oh yeah? Well, aniki says there's nothing wrong with my taste in women-don!"

Misawa snorted, perhaps irritated that Kenzan had not simply conceded the win. "Oh, please. That hardly counts."

"Watch it," Kenzan growled, hunching his shoulders and lowering his head as he ground out the end of his threat through bared teeth. It was at moments like these that he thought he could feel the dinosaur DNA flare up through his system, and he imagined that his narrowed eyes had snapped reptilian in that instance. "Insult my aniki, and I'll rip your spleen out and eat it."

"You know," Misawa began cautiously, scooting away from the younger boy slowly. "I doubt that nice girls like Alice go for violent dinosaurs."

Even Kenzan thought that that was a low blow, like rubbing acid into a festering wound. Misawa knew that Alice was still a tender subject for him. Never mind that the younger boy had only known the girl for a day before she disappeared just as mysteriously as she had come, or that she had given him the worst case of food poisoning he had ever experienced. None of that had mattered, because Alice was pretty and wonderful and nice, and now Misawa had gone and brought her up again. Kenzan faltered, shoulders slumping suddenly and head dropping as he looked to the floor with a tiny sniffle. He felt his eyes watering up, and could not hold in his feelings any longer.

"Uwaaaaaaah! I miss her so much!" he wailed, throwing an arm up over his face and burying his eyes in the crook of his elbow. Misawa must have anticipated that the other student would burst into tears – it was not the first time Kenzan had 'gotten in touch with his sensitive side' in front of him – because he moved back to the younger boy's side, placing a hand on his shoulder in a slightly awkward show of masculine camaraderie. "Alice-chan! W-why did she ha-have to. . . t-to leave me?"

"There, there, Kenzan," Misawa patted the large muscle on Kenzan's shoulder reassuringly. "All the best girls turn out to be possessed dolls." A small thoughtful pause from both boys, Kenzan sniffling again and looking to Misawa expectantly while the older boy sighed, his own eyes beginning to water. He added wistfully: "Or giant white tigers."

"Re-re-really?"

It was Misawa's turn to start bawling, and Kenzan hugged him as he mourned his own misfortune with women. "Tanyachi!" he sobbed the affectionate pet name brokenly, clutching at the front of Kenzan's shirt as he cried. "Why couldn't I just accept her as a warrior? Why did she have to leave?"

"Picking up girls at Duel Academy-saurus sucks," Kenzan lamented passionately as he wiped at his still streaming eyes. Misawa sniffled appreciatively in agreement, but any further comments he may have had were pushed aside as a trembling whirl of blue and white interrupted them:

"Bad news, guys! It's awful, terrible, very very bad news! The worst! I can't even believe it and I wouldn't, but I saw it when I moved in and the room assignments were up on the posts and everything, and the Morality Committee was standing outside with guns and glaring at people, and kids were moving in with boxes of stuff, and Fubuki was there, it was just terrible and—!" Shou halted in his gasping warning, momentarily taking note of the state of the two Ra Yellow students and pushing his glasses up higher on his nose with one finger as he caught his breath. It was very likely that he had run all the way over from Obelisk Blue; his face was flushed with exertion and his shoulders would not stop heaving. He blinked in surprise, his reason for panicking seemingly lost as he quipped: "Oh, hey, Misawa-kun. I didn't know you were still going here."

Kenzan tightened his grip on the older boy, who looked distinctly like he was harboring the intention of smacking their small friend upside the head.