The morning dawned bright and early, and when Riku got to where he had deposited her sleeping form the previous night, Meshuga was nowhere to be found. Riku ran outside.

"Meshuga?" he called, looking to the left and right. "Meshuga!" he raced around the island, trying to find his wayward guest. He combed the entire place, and eventually came full circle to where he started, with no trace of her. "Where are you? Meshuga?!" he called out, his voice cracking. Anything could have happened! Maybe someone from her forgotten past came and took her away- or what if her past was as violent as she had guessed? Riku fell to his knees in the sand, head in his palms as he tried to force his brain into action.

"Riku…" came a faint voice, Meshuga's voice. It sounded distant, as if it had flown out of Riku's subconscious. His hands dropped to his lap. She was lost, possibly forever. "Riku!" it sounded closer, now. Riku's hands clenched. If only he had stayed, watched over her. "Riku?" Now the voice was the closest ever, and it seemed worried.

Wait.

Riku looked up, and over towards the ocean. There, standing in the shallows, was a very wet, very salty and very confused Meshuga, wearing only the crop top and matching swimsuit bikini bottom. Riku jumped to his feet, throwing himself at the girl. She, somewhat bewildered, caught him, as he held her in a tight embrace. Riku, not finished yet, pulled away for a moment; His hands grasped the sides of her face and he kissed her, full on the mouth. Meshuga, quite astounded, wasn't sure of what to do. Luckily, it was then that Riku released her, leaning back and staring warmly into her eyes.

"What was that all about?" Meshuga asked him a little unsteadily, as he completely pulled back, only keeping hold of her hand as they walked to the flat rock.

"I thought I'd lost you- I had no idea where you were!" Meshuga smiled reassuringly.

"I felt like going for an early-morning swim. Hey, guess what?" Riku smiled and replied,

"What?"

"I found out I'm a really good swimmer! Maybe I was an Olympic swimmer in my past…"

"Heh. Maybe." They lay on the rock until they had dried sufficiently, at which point Meshuga put her borrowed shorts back on over her bikini. Riku had found a stunning variety of fruits for their breakfast, which they ate in the shade of a palm tree. As they ate, a question formed in Riku's mind.

"Hey Meshuga? Do you know if you're any good at fighting? You know, like with a sword." Meshuga considered, her head cocked to one side as she swallowed the strawberry that had been in her mouth.

"Hmm… Well, I don't know, but if it's anything like the swimming, it'll be my body that remembers." Riku nodded.

"Well, how about after breakfast we have a go with the wooden sticks…"

*          *          *

Eventually, after a lazy breakfast, Riku and Meshuga stood facing each other on the beach, a straight wooden pole in each pair of hands.

"I'll go easy on you to begin with," Riku explained, "And we should start slowly. Speed up if you feel you're getting good, but I'll speed up with you." Meshuga nodded, and took a deep breath to steel herself. A moment of silence stretched between them. Then Meshuga charged, aiming her pole for a stab. Riku parried it easily, and hit her ankles to knock her off her feet.

"Ayaah!" was Meshuga's cry as the world spun around her and she got hit in the back by a large body of sand. She opened her eyes, to find Riku smiling down at her. He offered her a hand to get up.

"Try again. I promise I won't knock you down again." Meshuga nodded, and settled into a stable stance. Again, the silence as Meshuga looked for her best plan of attack. She felt something nudging her mind, and it seemed to be coming from her limbs. The pole felt heavy, but comfortable in her hands. She shifted her grip, squeezing the stick experimentally. Her arms tensed and relaxed. And then she attacked.

Riku was surprised initially at her speed, but he easily dodged, blocked or parried all of her early strikes. He frowned slightly; her first strokes were amateur and wild, but as they fought on, he could feel them becoming a little more refined, a little more concentrated. His eyes widened slightly as he realised she was going through exactly what he had to learn sword fighting- at an extremely accelerated rate. By his calculations—his thoughts paused as he rolled to one side to avoid a head shot—by his calculations, in about thirty seconds she'd be matching his own skill. So, she WAS a good fighter, she just had to remember it.

And so she was- All of a sudden the fighting became much more graceful and measured, the skills of both fighters completely matched up. Riku laughed, having the time of his life- Meshuga, however, had a look of concentration on her face.

Slowly but surely, Riku felt the tide of the fight turning. He began having trouble, fighting with all his skills to stay in the fray. Meshuga was bearing down on him, barely noticing that she was surpassing him. Her strokes began to hit home, slamming into Riku's legs and upper body- finally she hit him a beauty across the head, and he fell down, hitting the sand hard. A trickle of blood ran from one corner of his mouth.

Meshuga approached, stick raised, and a trancelike, blank expression on her face. Riku gritted his teeth and kicked upwards, hitting her in the ribs and knocking her onto her back. Her pole flew out of her hand. Riku leapt forwards, crouching over her and holding the stick across her throat to keep her down. The blank expression evaporated.

"H- ah? Riku? What happened? Oh gods, you're bleeding- who did that? It wasn't me, was it?" Riku raised an eyebrow. She doesn't remember any of it! He realised, letting up the pressure and sitting down. Meshuga sat up with him, rubbing the place where he had kicked her. "Ow; How did I get so sore?"

"You don't remember?" He turned and studied her face.

"I remember up to the point where our skills matched, and then everything becomes a blur."

"Aha. You knocked me down, and you were going to hit me again, so I kicked you. I'm sorry." Meshuga's eyes widened.

"I was going to—jeez, Riku, I'm the one who should be sorry! I don't wanna sword-fight again if that's going to happen!" she absently rubbed the tattoo with her thumb, a gesture she had taken to doing when she was thinking. "How scary. And it's part of my past…" Riku's heart clenched when he noticed the distressed look on her face. He pulled her into his lap, wincing slightly at the pain that would certainly become a series of mighty bruises.

"I'll help you. In any way I can." He wrapped his arms tightly around her and sat there, rocking gently back and forth. Several readers slapped themselves on the forehead in exasperation, as a few even left the story with an air of distaste.

"Thankyou," she whispered, her voice showing exactly how shaken she was. They sat like that until lunch time about three hours later.