Friends and Allies

"In case you didn't notice, baroness, they spoke the truth."

"These wizards are cunning; you are just under their spell," spat Kihoto. Tristan sighed, not aloud though. Kihoto was the only woman among the barons, and the eldest of six sisters, all of them once dark haired, cold eyed and bronze skinned. She possessed a fiery, acidic stubbornness, and a ferocity no less vicious than the other barons. Her hair was now white with age, and she we neither ugly nor beautiful.

"It seems a little difficult to not take their word for it," replied Tristan, cold and calm. "Considering that the undead have just been banished from our doorstep, thanks to our "Geffen-mites." In just a few days, we will receive a message from our crusaders, telling us that they have secured Geffen, and no more attacks can be expected; or that they need assistance, then we will send some of the priests. Either way, Prontera is safe because of them."

Wizards followed a code of conduct, as did swordsmen, acolytes, hunters and even the supposedly bloodthirsty assassins, and every member of every caste of Midgard. A wizard's way was about doing what was needed, and with haste. This also meant saying only what was needed and everything that was needed; they spoke in riddles and of the laws of nature and the bond and balance of everything. Their words certainly were nothing to fools and everything to the wise.

Since the wizards had arrived, Tristan spent as much time as he could with the Master Arne. Tristan prided himself in knowing exactly how to deal with people, and Arne was something of a challenge. The wizard was eighteen, and already a Master. He had a cold, quiet, self-assured confidence that made anyone whom he so much as looked at humble away, defeated. He spoke with no emotion in his voice; not when grieved, not when glad, not when agitated. He smiled though, and when he did, his icy blue eyes glinted; whether maliciously or warmly, it was impossible to tell.

So far, their conversations had been exactly as Tristan had predicted them to be: cautious and filled with confident disdain. However, Tristan felt himself worthy of calling himself Arne's friend. He had told the wizard this, to which he replied, "I feel the same, your Majesty. You have been a great source of comfort these last few days."

"Send them to Yuno; what good are they here?" hissed Kihoto.

"What bad are they here?" replied Tristan with the casual uncaring he had learnt from Arne. "Do you fear them?"

"No," said the woman instantly. He picked up an uncomfortable, stiff change in her stance and smiled to himself. Oh, you lie…

"You should; they are people to be reckoned with."

With that, he stood up and left the baroness seething. He found Arne quickly, enjoying a snooze beneath an ash tree in the castle gardens. This part of the grounds seemed to be his particular favourite, as it seemed it wasn't all flowerbeds and neat 'n' tidy rows. It left its plants to grow in their natural places, and each rock looked as though it had been there forever. There was a pond with clear, shining water, and silver bells were strung with blue ribbons among the trees, ringing and glittering pleasantly with the winds white steps.

Tristan sat with his strange friend in the shade of the ash tree.

"Good afternoon, companion," said Arne without opening his eyes.

"You don't want to be taking naps and growing fond of flowers; you'll become old before your time."

The wizard gave a slight snigger and sat up.

"You seem young to be a Master," mused Tristan. "The others too, but you especially."

"You seem young to be caught in this vicious little game of politics," replied the other in an ironic matter-of-fact tone, which Tristan had learnt was part of Arne's humour. "There are others who seem young, like you say."

The wizard wouldn't continue unless asked to do so. He would not conceal, nor would he go further than he needed to.

"Who are they?"

"There are two who spring to mind," was the silky reply. "One has been Master not two years, and is no older than ourselves. He is the youngest of the Masters of Yuno, and his eyes are golden. He is Akiro. The other is a strange girl, not yet sixteen years of age. She is regarded as a daughter by the Cardinal Master Orius. She has boundless magical and emotional energy, and her sister is said to be a shadow. She is more than worthy of being a Master."

Tristan watched with amused curiosity as his friend's eyes glazed over as he spoke, and the usual dry iciness melted away for a second. "You've met her before," he said with iron certainty. "Tell me about her."

Arne turned slowly to face him, no trace of shame or embarrassment, only his self-assured confidence remained. "The last festival of Samhain." Samhain was a day celebrated all over Midgard, on the night of the full moon at the end of Gort, the month of Ivy, in mid-autumn. It is believed that on that night, the veil between worlds was as thin as it could possibly be; however, that was merely folklore, and few believed in the possibility of other worlds. It was a day of remembrance to the dead, and thus all citizens of Midgard were known to make some form of recognition to the day; but it was also something of a day for mages. It was a spiritual, magical day, and mages were to pay tribute to the beings who spoke the language from which they forged spells. "The Masters of Yuno came to Geffen. She was with them. She wore a long dress of black silk and a magic instructor's hat, therefore travelling as an equal. She was red-haired and green-eyed, and beautiful and sweet. She greeted the Masters of Geffen like old friends. Her name is Ruriko, and she is the most extraordinary girl I've met."

"Do you miss her?" Tristan was intensely interested in this tender, fluff-'n'-cuddles side of Arne he never thought could have existed.

"When Samhain came in the mid-autumn, I had hoped to see her again."

"Is she one of that guild? The God's Cry?"

"She founded it."

"They are spoken of with contempt around here, mainly by the barons. I know nothing of them really; their members, their abilities, or their cause."

"Well, I am not surprised, companion; their cause is investigating the change of Midgard."

Change? They saw what was going on with Midgard? They would know something about the attack just faced? They could only bring about good for this world… Midgard is changing, as it should or shouldn't be.

"I think I would like to meet them," said Tristan without thinking.

"And I think you will do so."

Among the tuneful glitter of tiny bells on a light summer's breeze, there came an angry, hurried swish of an eastern woman's robes. "What is it Kihoto?" said Tristan blandly as the baroness approached.

"You readied the Pronteran chivalry; are you insane?"

Of course, he had expected this. The chivalry had not been needed for many years. Tristan remained vapid. He was aware of Arne sat boyishly next to him, allowing a bright white butterfly to land on his hand and regarding the woman with serene disdain.

"Why, I believe it to be the logical cause of action, Prontera being in danger of an attack and all," replied Tristan dryly. "Should I not have done?"

"We've driven off the attack," she snapped, her voice steely.

"Do you think that was the last, baroness? That wasn't just a mindless rabble monsters; someone had to be controlling them. Come now, Kihoto, do you think the undead were sent to Prontera just to be defeated? Only with a stronghold like Geffen could they even think of marching on Prontera."

"It could only be a mindless rabble."

"In such numbers? How convenient that an army-sized mindless rabble of undead just happened to trip over our doorstep. I say."

"Are you suggesting that someone sent the undead to attack Prontera, the capital city; home of the priest guild, the undead killers?"

"We weren't supposed to know about it," he replied, turning his eyes savagely on her and keeping his face and tone bland. "Nobody within Geffen was supposed to have survived. We should be dust in the ground. We can expect more."

"What's your excuse then, wizard? Where was your power? Where are Geffen's champions?" hissed the woman, turning on Arne. Tristan wanted to laugh; he knew only vaguely how Arne handled his opponents, and looked forward to seeing it.

"Exactly where they were needed," he replied, his eyes fixed vigilantly on Kihoto's.

"And is that why Geffen was destroyed?"

"It would appear that the power of the undead was also where it was needed."

"I would've thought that the best of Geffen would've been able to defend their own city."

"So would I. But evidently, twelve wizards was not enough to stop an entire army, that came from within the centre of the city itself. But having the undead, and we should note here that the only effective combatants against such opponents are those of the acolyte caste, and we are sorely lacking such people, popping out of the ground beneath our feet is not easy to escape from alive. There was no way we could defend our home, and there are many losses to grieve for." Cold, barely-suppressed rage was beginning to snake its way into his voice.

"So now your tattered survivors leech off of Prontera."

"By order of the prince, Prontera is playing host to refugees. Would you rather we had not come, and leave the undead to overwhelm this city?"

The woman sighed and threw her white hair behind her, glaring at him.

"This is pure folly," she hissed. "You will both bring panic upon the people."

"You have no authority over Prontera. Now, I suggest you stop looking at the worry of the people and see it for what it is: people caught in a war, taking precautions. Why not return to your Amatsu, baroness? You would be able to not rally your armies there. Would it not keep the people so very calm?" he replied silkily, a note of delicate mocking cackling below the icy disdain.

Kihoto stormed away, her black silken robes flitting about her like dark clouds.

"That's twice today already," mumbled Tristan.

"The barons are quite hopelessly arrogant," mused Arne. "I thought it was just Kemmerle."

Kemmerle was the late baron of Geffen, who seemed to be more full of himself than the others. Tristan hoped he had died a painful death.

"Unfortunately, all of them are. Now you get to put with the others. Do you feel privileged?" Tristan said sarcastically.

"No."

x-x-x

Excel shifted her weight, but still found herself uncomfortable. It's so boring, the voice in her head sighed yet again. She had no interest in alchemy, yet her parents still made her learn. It was, in fact, a family tradition, and it did, of course, really bite. Her parents were proud enough to say that they were able to trace back ten or twenty (or some other number divisible by ten) generations of their family, and find every man a blacksmith and every woman an alchemist, even before alchemy became a recognised profession.

Excel was twelve, and the time of her exams for becoming a qualified alchemist was drawing near. She was the oddball of her class where she stood in Prontera. Her parents had wanted to send her to Aldebaran for her training in alchemy, but it was evident that she had not a shred of enthusiasm for the proposal, so she stayed in Prontera. All she wanted to be was a blacksmith. She replicated the uniform as far as she could, cutting a pair of her brother's old jeans into shorts, and wearing only white shirts tied so that they showed her stomach. A lot of blacksmiths thought this cute.

Excel thought of her brother, Chisel, out adventuring somewhere with his guild. When he visited, he always encouraged her to work hard at her alchemy, and that she would enjoy it once she got into it. But he was a member of a powerful guild, comprised of only the best of the best, and she envied and admired him. He was an excellent blacksmith, and she couldn't picture not wanting to be like anyone else. He could make armour that was as light as a feather but could take unlimited amounts of abuse. His weapons never rusted or dulled, and could slice anything, and he could decide exactly which weapon would be suitable for a person just by looking at they way they moved.

Her mind hurtled back to the dingy underground classroom with its torch brackets and musty smell. The alchemist at the front of the chamber was droning on about the "brown gas" stuff, and its flashy-sounding technical name and all of the seemingly wonderful alchemisty things it could do, all the while scrawling on a vast greying black board. Each merchant, all dressed richly and carrying large bags of whatever it was they felt necessary to lug around everywhere, and Excel stood at their place along the rows of benches, each with a glass cylinder that simmered with dense brown mists.

"… is heavier than air. It isn't toxic, but it is impossible for humans to breath. Now, it is needed as part of formulas for endothermic nitrifying reactions, and can act as a catalyst for exothermic…"

Excel slipped out of focus again, quickly forgetting what she had just been told, frowning and pawing the ground with one foot. She wondered quickly if she should be concerned that her favourite part of the class was to add strangely coloured liquids to each other, normally ones that fizzed violently when tapped lightly or interesting goopy substances in thick glass jars that someone was considerate enough to mark with a nice big red X, then watching them blow up or dissolve whatever they came into contact with. She quickly noted that her glass cylinder was belching out that brown gas stuff in slightly disturbing amounts. She shrugged and frowned, and let it simmer on.

She remembered with a slight wince, on a day less than a month before, coming home to find her parents stood outside their house, not looking very pleased. Panicking, she blurted out, "I didn't know it was new! I needed fuel badly and I thought it was abandoned, so I…" She looked up and saw this only drew a blank stare, then quickly found that they were scowling about a poring she had brought home and was hoping to tame. Apparently, it had eaten all the food in the house, and also taken a rather large bite out of the front door. "Oh," she burbled. "Sorry."

But her parents, not easily fooled, pressed her about what had happened in the lab that day, and she was forced to recount the embarrassing tale of setting fire to a new storage unit, mistaking it for an abandoned one, in a desperate bid for fuel to summon a marine sphere that would actually explode when it was popped.

Her eyes lost their reminiscent gaze, and she looked, surprised, to her cylinder, and found that brown gas was now snaking its way across the floor, dark mists rolling and curling and spreading about each other. She raised her hand, waiting for Doctor Pious to finish whatever he was drivelling about.

Most of the students were falling into various states of alarm, making Excel frown more deeply. With a ruckus beginning behind him, Doctor Pious lifted himself from his teaching and blackboard to settle it. However, he was slightly late, as the class was now waist-deep in brown gas. His eyes widened, and he stood staring and blinking incredulously behind his large glasses.

"Yes… Excel?" he sighed, exasperated, without looking at her.

"Sir, I screwed up," was all she said, with an apologetic shrug.

There was quite a fuss; every classroom on that floor and the ones below it had to be evacuated, and senior alchemists had to be dispatched with shiny looking equipment to sort it all out. The headmaster came out of his study on the first floor, especially to tell off Excel. After a couple of years of this, she had learnt to just not listen.

Nothing like this would ever happen if I could just be a blacksmith, like I want to be, she thought bitterly. She wanted so much to just be like her brother. Her parents were parents, people who looked after her; they weren't role models. Chisel was everything she wanted to be, but she wasn't allowed to be that. So what does her family get? A dangerously incompetent alchemist dressed as a blacksmith who made nothing but trouble, marine spheres that didn't explode and flora that had cavities. She had not a shred of talent for alchemy! Why couldn't her parents see that? No, they just wanted to keep up with their wonderful little family traditions. She wondered if any of her seemingly wonderful ancestors needed to carry dentists around with them everywhere to fix their floras' teeth. She couldn't be only one who was useless, right? So far, she had only managed to summon one flora that had a complete set of working teeth. Unfortunately, it had been more than happy to try and eat her arm, as if to say "you gave me these teeth, and they're working great! See? I can mangle you with them!" Well, they did work, and they bloody hurt too.

Oops! Looks like Headmaster's wrapping up. Better start nodding…

x-x-x

Hester thought that she should she should go out into the city, or maybe return to the church to see how her brother was managing without her. But she felt too vague for crowds and the hustle and bustle, merchants contesting for customers, the various weary travellers, the constant requests… So there, sat on the edge of a fountain in the castle grounds, she remained in silent, troubled solitude.

She felt tired, but knew she shouldn't. It wasn't a physical tiredness that ailed her; just a lack of feeling and energy, a sensation that one has no purpose, and a grey boredom and no will to cure to it. She was restless.

She didn't want the endless pleas for healing minor wounds or blessings that came with a visit to Prontera; she felt like she couldn't cast, and carried not the drive to accept the requests, but she knew she wouldn't be able to just refuse and walk away, being the soft-hearted woman that she was.

She had been there to give the order that halted the attack of the undead, and that was only the beginning. Never had she seen war, and she had limited experience of battle; only accompanying fighters and helping them to kill. Prontera should not be standing at the moment. She should not be sat, living, thinking her human thoughts. She thought of that single, strange moment, when the sweet relief of victory began to touch her. She still felt that same relief, though it ebbed away into the air above, leaving behind thanks that she was still alive, and that they had won. She thought only that the city was safe, not that it could've been destroyed. She thought of the attack she had seen diverted, not the attacks to come.

Her gaze fell on her hands. The hands that healed and blessed, the hands that saved and cleansed. What is my gift? To help. To save. To heal. To be pure, untouched.

To see a candles light, you must first take it into the darkness.

"How strange balance is," she whispered to the silver flow of the fountain. "Not good, not bad, neither life nor death; so perfect yet so unsatisfactory. For all my prayers and purity, there has to be darkness for them to be."

-X-X-

Ruriko had told Akiro what she had seen in her dream. He'd frowned, which made her draw back, dismayed. He almost felt himself soften within, and he was cautious and gentle with her once again. He agreed to keep her company as she rummaged through the oldest, mustiest books the school library possessed in a desperate attempt to find what she was looking for.

In the amber light cast by the lamps suspended from the high ceiling, he sat slumped in a chair in a secluded corner of the library. On a table next to him, she sat cross-legged with a pile of promising looking books on her right.

"It would be so much easier if I had a name or something," she sighed, frowning her sweet little girl's frown.

"Ah, but obviously that would be too easy."

"Well, this certainly isn't easy. Half of these books smell like sweaty shoes, and I should probably be worried about all these paper cuts I'm getting. But, if anything is easy, it's most likely not worth anything. That kinda bites when you think about it."

"You haven't found anything yet? What kind of books have you been looking in?"

"A few hundred lovely volumes that may be of interest to a gardener or an alchemist, and a book on alternate worlds."

"You think that this tree is part of another world?"

"Yes and no," she replied with a little shrug. "It's weird; most of the vision was about feeling rather than hearing or vision, or even touch. Like a sensing spell, see?"

"Kind of; but what did you feel?"

She crossed her arms and raised her gaze to the ceiling in silent thought. She tilted her head from side to side every now and then, frowning each time she did. She looked adorable doing this. He looked wistfully at the glossy red hair, the brilliant green eyes, the slender figure… But she was soon shrugging and sighing, pulling him out of his daze.

"Too hard to explain. But I'll try anyway," she said, shifting herself into the girly sitting position, swinging her legs around, her ankles level with her hips. Akiro thought this always looked rather painful, and heard Jigan refer to it as the stupid-girl-sit. "It's definitely not something from this world. So it would have to be from another world, right? But it's confusing because I didn't feel that it was in another world. In fact, it doesn't feel like it's from any world. But you know what's even more confusing? It's part of every world. It's not in them, but it's part of them."

"I'm so glad I don't have any of these visions," he said with a teasing smile, which she returned by pinching his cheek.

"Hmmm…" Akiro thought for a moment. He thought he might have an answer to her vision. "You know what I think your tree is?"

Ruriko shook her head, and looked at him intently.

"When you meet someone you share a certain quality with, you feel a strange connection to this person. Well, I think this tree is just this. You said it was part of all the worlds… something to connect the worlds. A bridge, maybe."

"I'm not sure a bridge is the right way to describe, but it might be," she said with a nod. "Maybe it's like a tree of life or something."

"What gives you that idea?"

She shrugged. "Well, it's definitely important. A tree of life, giver of life… whatever it is, it is important. If it's connected to Midgard and it's being corrupted, then it's pretty safe to assume that all of the change which is going on is centred there. If we could find some way to get to it, it would so much easier."

"But how? You said it wasn't on Midgard."

"No, but it's a part of Midgard. Maybe it exists as kind of an alternate Midgard, like it's right on top of us, but we can't see it, and whatever lives there can't see us. We're both in the same place, but it's like they're on a different kind of level."

"I don't follow."

"You know how a thief bug can shriek really high? Like really, really high, so that it's so high that we can't hear it and it really hurts? Well, with that, it's like all sounds are on a big scale, the lowest ones at the bottom, and the thief bug screeches at the top. Well, imagine a different kind of scale. Like a scale of life or um… sustainability or something; Midgard's at one end of the scale, and this tree could be in the same place, just at a completely different part of the scale. Fu… I know what I mean."

"Don't worry; I understand what you mean now."

"Will you try and research about that tree while I'm gone? Won't you? Please?" she asked, clasping her hands together in a sweet little plea. She's so cute…

He smiled in reply, the thought of saying no not even flitting across his mind. But it did jolt him that she would be going tomorrow. Not for good, he assured himself, but it would certainly feel that way. Yuno, in all its splendour and finery, was nothing but pretty scenery without Ruriko. The next month or so looked grey and vague. Maybe when she came back next time, he'd have plucked up the courage to tell her how he felt. He'd miss her, as always.

"Thanks, Akiro," she said, looking relieved. "I think I should probably get some sleep; I have a long walk tomorrow."

He nodded, and watched her walk out, stretching as she went. It still surprised him to see how slight she was. But she did grow up on the streets basically, he reminded himself with a frown. He didn't know much about how her childhood was spent. He knew that Draco looked after her, stealing food to get them by, then somehow finding the zenny to enrol her as a mage in Yuno Academy. He didn't feel Draco would be happy to admit where the money came from. He had asked mockingly if she had whored herself around a bit, to which she replied, "Why not." He had laughed, and deducted that that was when she had taken up assassination as a profession.

Akiro didn't know what else to do, and so began his way back to his own room.

x-x-x

"Bleeh! Sis, what time is it?"

"Time we were leaving, Ruriko," replied Draco, not bothering to filter her amusement out of her voice.

"That isn't very helpful…"

She shook her head, smiling, surveying the steadily breathing heap of bedclothes. With a quick movement, she seized the duvet and swept it up into a bundle in her arms. Ruriko instantly retracted into a shuddering ball.

"Get up, Ruriko," laughed Draco, as the younger pulled a pillow over her head. "Enough beauty sleep now, we're off to Comodo. Maybe Akiro would be better at this than me…" The assassin was answered promptly with a pillow, thrown hard and aimed well, straight into her face.

Draco laughed again, and strode out of the room, pillow and duvet tucked safely in her arms. She waited perhaps ten minutes, leaning casually against a wall, when the door was pounded open, and Ruriko stood, glum and moody, framed in the doorway.

"Let's go," she grumbled, throwing her travelling cloak about her as she swished down the corridor.

They were stood by the pillar, ready to depart, quite quickly. Draco had wanted to leave early, as they avoided the Ruriko-loving crowds that would only hinder their progress. The sun had not been up an hour yet, and the weather was looking to be dull. It was cold, and Draco saw, slightly ahead of her, Ruriko clasp her cloak tightly about her, hunched over like a crone.

If they travelled at a steady pace, they would reach Aldebaran before nightfall. If we travel at Ruriko's pace, we'll be there in minutes, thought Draco, watching her sister's moody stomp.

-X-X-

Kyo stepped out into bright Comodo sunlight, squinting. She surveyed the beach in front of her, filled with clusters of people, her vision frequently flitting over the pink of a dancer's skirt or the pale cape of a bard, and quickly spotted Tassy, Kura and Leo. They sat, giggling, and as Kyo made her way over, she saw why; Kura was making some kind of attempt to tame Leo's messy red hair, the result being that it was tied into pigtails with little pink ribbons. He, of course, was pretending that he was the most beautiful person on Midgard.

"Should I ask what's going on, or will I regret it?" asked Kyo as she neared them.

Leo turned, giving his hair an exaggerated flick. "Isn't my hair so sexy? Tell me, Kyo: do you like the way my fringe is incredibly floppy? Isn't it great the way it's still messy? Don't you just love this little tuft here that Kura missed? Do you find it alluring?"

She gave him a playful tap with her foot, and sat down.

"Hey, Kyo? Is it true you're only going to be here for about a month? Or even shorter?" asked Kura, quietly, as though she were afraid to say it in the first place.

"Yeah," was all she replied. Kura made a little whining noise and put her arms around Kyo's shoulders, resting her cheek against her back.

"You need to learn slower," said Tassy with a frown. "Well, at least you'll be here for one festival…"

"Which one? I didn't know there was a festival coming up."

Tassy giggled slightly, and Leo explained. "Most people only celebrate the ends of seasons and the start of a new year. Comodo celebrates the beginning of every month, on the last night of the full moon."

"Any particular reason why?"

"Why, what else that to have an excuse to throw a huge party?" he replied knowingly, as though it were obvious. "This is the town of enjoyment, after all."

"It'll be the start of Coll next week; where has the summer gone?" sighed Tassy.

"Don't worry; I'm here for you," said Leo, pretending to sob.

"If you like, I could ask the moon to wax a little slower; would that make you feel a bit better?" remarked Kura sarcastically.

"Be careful; she tends to get pretty violent when she's been drinking."

"Anyone thought of who they're going with?"

"Everyone," said Leo instantly.

"I think I'll probably just end up going up with Taiken," murmured Tassy. Kyo felt a little frightened; she had a good idea she knew who she wanted to ask, but she was hoping they wouldn't figure it out… It scared her. "Hey, Kyo, are you going to ask your hunter?"

Oh, damn.

"Um…" She stared, wide-eyed, at Tassy, her gaze moving over Kura and Leo's interested faces.

"You should. You so should!"

"How?" she spluttered; it was the only word she could think of.

"It's quite simple really; you walk up to him, say, "Would you like to go to the festival with me?" He says, "Yes," and you both live happily ever after."

She frowned; when she pictured herself in that situation, the task seemed anything but simple. Why though? It shouldn't be hard, should it? Ah… why am I so nervous?

At the moment, she found it amazing that she could have the casual, friendly conversations she normally had with Hawk, especially now that she'd developed what appeared to be a schoolgirl crush on the usually silent hunter. Normally, they could talk about anything, and now the prospect that she should ask him to accompany her to a beginning of month festival seemed ridiculous.

"Ah, to be young and in love," sighed Leo, in a mock-nostalgic voice. "It's great fun!"

"I'm not in love," protested Kyo, feeling her temper begin to flare up, for some reason. "I just-…"

She stopped.

"Yes?"

"I just… have… an incredibly small crush on him, that's all," she replied, her voice growing quieter as she went along. She quickly flitted back to protesting. "Well, he's my friend. I mean, he's my best friend. And I guess he does make me smile and I like being around him, but isn't that entirely what a friend is? And I can talk to him about stuff, like a friend, and he can talk to me about stuff, like a friend. It isn't going to be anything more than that. I did mention it was a small crush, right?" she mumbled, noticing their frowns.

"Well, then, if you're friends, just ask him as a friend," said Leo brightly.

"Trust me, Kyo; he isn't going to say no."

"He… doesn't really like crowds."

"Ask him tomorrow in your archery lesson," said Tassy as though she didn't hear Kyo's last remonstrance.

x-x-x

Night was falling, and Taiken ambled slightly absent-mindedly along the empty beach. Everyone else would be in the casino at this time. He sat down, something of a smile over his features.

He was slightly confused. He was still puzzling over his certainty that "Phreeoni" wouldn't move, and also his guild mates'. He knew it wasn't such a big deal, and he tried to brush it off. There were plenty of tales of close friends (he gave a slight chuckle, thinking what Oshi or Hawk's reaction would be if he told him that he thought of either of them as that) having a weird telepathic psychic connection; he didn't know how to word it, but he knew what it was. He'd watched Tassy and Kura complete each other's sentences, or one complain, "I was going to say that!" when the other said something, and he'd found he sometimes managed the same thing with Ruriko, Chisel or Draco – the three guild members who actually seemed willing to let him get to know them.

But what about Phreeoni? Gut instinct, he said to himself. And… his gut instinct just happened to match that of three other people? It couldn't be anything… big, could it? This just doesn't make any sense.

"Never thought I'd find you here by yourself."

Taiken yelled out, the voice of what was darkness stopping his heart. He spun around, and was surprised to find Oshi stood there, frowning, barely visible in the night's blackness. Taiken sighed.

"You shouldn't sneak up on people like that! It's-…"

"Annoying. I know. Chisel was kind enough to inform me. I'd like to try the same thing on Hawk, but that little hunter instinct of his can be a slight hindrance. I've made him jump, but never scream." Here, he gave Taiken a slight leer.

Taiken ignored it, and stood up, thinking he would feel slightly better if he was above Oshi in height. He was only a couple of inches taller, and now, stood straight, he had the strange feeling of looking down at a horribly defiant child, who had obviously done something bad. But, in this case, the child was five foot five, and seemed to be plotting his demise.

"What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you."

"Why were you surprised to see me here then?"

"I said I was surprised to see you here by yourself."

"… What did you need?"

"Information. There was a girl earlier – I don't remember her name for the life of me – she kept talking about a festival, and was dropping very heavy hints. Do they have parties this month?"

"This is Comodo, Oshi. They have parties every month."

"Comodo is a strange place."

"And by strange, I believe you mean sociable."

"No, I mean strange."

Taiken shook his head and shrugged. "She wanted you to go with her to the festival to celebrate the beginning of Coll."

"Indeed."

"And undoubtedly, she also wanted very much to get in your pants."

"Ha ha. Any way I can avoid it?"

"Everybody goes, normally with a partner. You could just go with your friends, if you would be so brave as to call us that."

"Fine, fine." He looked for a moment as though he were considering leaving, but, looking Taiken forcefully in the eye, turned back and asked, "Why are you here by yourself?"

"Just… thinking," he replied, somewhat lamely, taken slightly by surprise.

"Not worried about anything, are you?" prodded the assassin blandly, which was his way of showing concern.

"Nope. Nothing at all."

Oshi nodded, his expression unreadable. "Let me guess; you'll be getting yourself a date for this festival?"

"Tassy'll probably want me to go with her, but I wouldn't really call that a date," replied Taiken, a little relieved at the change of subject, and a little surprised to be talking about this with Oshi, of all people. "I can't even imagine going on a date with Tassy. If only Draco were here; you two could go together and look menacing."

Oshi gave a slight "tch!" of laughter, and kept his eyes on Taiken; it was difficult to tell if he was blinking or not. "I can't imagine a date with Draco."

"You know what, I really don't have a clue about you."

"I've had you sussed out for most of the time I've known you."

"Clever boy." Oshi smirked, then walked next to Taiken and sat down, staring at the few stars alight in the darkened sky.

"Would you feel better if you knew?"

"Honestly, Oshi, as your guild mate, I feel almost obligated to know," the bard answered, keeping his voice level. He was frowning, wondering if this could possibly be the moment where Oshi told him everything; the one time he heard about his life.

But here? In this unlikely place? He'd never expected this moment to come, and he had no idea what to expect to hear, where they would be, what he'd do afterwards… nothing.

"I was born in Payon," Oshi began evenly. Taiken sat next to him, keeping his eyes on the horizon over the blackened sea. "I guess I cared for my parents; my father trained me from a young age how to fight. He taught me to endure pain. He taught me to keep my face straight and my mouth shut. He taught me to be ruthless and how to make someone submit."

"Sounds rough."

"It wasn't though. For all his vicious teachings and cruel methods, he was a loving father. He would put my hands in a fire, and if I screamed, he would do it again when the skin was healed, and he'd keep doing it until I didn't scream. There's something you want to say, no?"

"Your dad was a nutcase," Taiken said instantly. Oshi laughed, and carried on.

"Maybe. But when the day came that I didn't scream, he smiled, and told me, "Good." And from my father, that was some extravagant praise. And that was one of the perks of my childhood: hearing my father tell me I'd done well. And before you say anything else, he was a good father; he raised me well. And my mother was wonderful and caring."

"You've had a fairly weird life…"

"Indeed. One day, when I was about ten, my father led me deep into the mountains. He told me to go to sleep, and when I woke, to find my way home. I didn't think to disobey him. I spent at least a week retracing my steps, and eventually I came home. But… they had…" He took a deep breath. "They weren't there."

"They abandoned you?"

"I don't know. Nobody knew; I asked around. They'd just vanished into thin air, apparently. I just don't know."

Taiken felt a little overwhelmed; he'd learnt very little of Oshi since he first met him, and now he'd learnt more than anyone knew within the space of a few minutes. He was born in Payon? I never would've guessed… he certainly doesn't look like it. Burning hands? Was he delusional? Did he really respect his father?

And… his parents… They didn't abandon him… they couldn't have… they just couldn't have…

The assassin's breathing was audible, something Taiken realised he'd never heard. He turned in surprise to his companion; he was crying. Oshi was crying.

Taiken took a moment to recover; he never thought he'd see Oshi do something so… human. He'd heard his story, he'd seen him cry… This was a strange night. Was it all even real? Would he wake up any second now? It didn't appear to be a dream, nor did it appear to be real.

"You've never told anyone this before, have you?" It was more like a statement than a question. Taiken whispered it with unflinching certainty.

Oshi shook his head, blinking, eyes wide in astonishment at the tears creeping down his face.

"You never told any of us." Taiken was careful with his tone. He didn't want to sound accusatory at all, but he didn't want his companion to think he had just brushed it off. "Do you really not trust your friends that much?"

"I just couldn't," replied the assassin, voice muffled with silent, suppressed sobs.

Taiken was beginning to feel slightly faint. "You really thought that?" He didn't look to the other for a reply, but sighed, bewildered at his own watering eyes. "There are some things you'll want to keep to yourself, and there are some things that you need to let out. I couldn't walk around with your burden by myself. I'd crack instantly. I'd have told someone long ago. Where did you go afterwards?"

"That was when I took up assassination. It would be against my honour to tell you about it."

"I understand. But did you think it against your honour to tell me about the other half of your life?"

There was a pause.

"Maybe."

"Look, Oshi…" It felt strange saying his name now. "The God's Cry are your friends. We're here for you. We look out for each other; that's what friends are for. We wouldn't shun you for telling us about your past. We'd help. In whatever way we could. You'll tell the others someday, won't you?"

"I was hoping you'd do that for me."

"I couldn't do that. I don't think I'd feel… comfortable telling the story of your life. It's something you have to do. You're one of the bravest people I know… and you're brave enough to tell your friends about you. What do you think they'll say when you do? Is it really so bad?"

"I… don't know."

"Don't worry about it. You don't need to worry about it at all."

Oshi grinned slightly, and dried his eyes quickly with gloved hands. "If only Father could see his son now, weeping, admitting defeat... so much for enduring pain…"

"Nothing can teach you to endure that kind of pain."

"I guess," the assassin sighed back, gradually slipping back to his old, composed self.

"You really don't know what happened?" asked Taiken incredulously. It still seemed too cruel to him.

"I really don't care," Oshi replied dryly, a bite of irritation in his voice. "I'm going to bed now," he carried on, more calmly. "Good night."

"Good night then." Taiken was still a little dazed, staring after his impossible friend, now shrouded in shadow.

"Taiken? Thanks for listening. I feel a bit better."

Taiken nodded and waved as casually as he could possibly manage, then turned back to the sea. The stars were all ablaze, white-silver against the black sky. The ocean lapped peacefully onto the soft shore, and the air was still. And when he looked around next, his companion had vanished.

-X-X-

"Did you find anything in the library?"

Draco felt she needed to ask, almost as an apology for being moody when Ruriko had told her in the first place. They sat in front of a fire beneath a clear night sky, travelling cloaks wrapped around them.

"Absolutely nothing. I still don't know what it is."

"Is it important to find out."

"Definitely."

"Did you stumble along any theories at all?"

"A few, but I can't be sure that any of them are right."

Draco nodded, but didn't push the subject. She didn't mind the silence. In fact, she enjoyed the time to collect her thoughts. Now, she watched the fire, lively and crackling, warming her. The heat pounded into her face, making her cheeks glow slightly.

Watching Akiro and Ruriko grow closer, she was being reminded horribly of her own experience of love, and she was afraid. She was also a little jealous; she wanted to love, to have a second chance. But there'd never be anyone like him.

"Don't worry," he'd assured her. "I'll protect you. You'll never have to fear again…"

She sighed wistfully, a great weight burrowing into her heart. She thought of the protection he had offered, and where she would be if he'd stayed. But she didn't know. She'd turned from a safe, normal life long ago.

"Reading the stars is dead boring now," whined Ruriko, from somewhere seemingly faraway.

"You used to love looking at the stars."

"That was when I didn't know anything about them," replied the sage, sitting up, and Draco realised she'd been laid down. "I could just make up any old story behind them, like, "That one's the great poring, and there's a cloud which looks like a little novice fighter about to kill it." But now, it's always that one's the Nidhogg, those ones are Verdandi, Urd and Skuld, that one's a volva, that one's Hoddmimir… It's stupid; we need to come up with new names for the stars. No one even knows what any of those things are anymore. I think it's better to see the world as it is; no fancy names for anything, just Midgard. A world. With lots of stuff. I don't know how to explain it."

"Well, do you really need to?"

"I guess not… night night, Sis."

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