Disclaimer: I don't own anything!

Author's Note: I wanted to split up this and the last chapter because it felt like they were two separate things, just connected. The weather here is ridiculously bipolar. It's 78 degrees one day, and the next it's 42. It's strong sunshine one minute, and for the next five minutes, it's a thunderstorm before the sun comes back.

Sorry about that. I've been getting annoyed by a lot of stuff recently. I did get an email with an application to a pre-college workshop for art. I would love to, but unfortunately, it's up in Philadelphia. Way too far away.

-/-/-/-

Why can't we get all the people together in the world that we really like and then just stay together? I guess that wouldn't work. Someone would leave. Someone always leaves. Then we would have to say good-bye. I hate good-byes. I know what I need. I need more hellos. ~Charles M. Schulz

-/-/-/-

Yuan hardly sees Kratos the next day, he's so busy. It's a custom among the humans to clean out the house on the day after the new year. The cook tells him it's because they believe in bad luck and spirits. Yuan thinks it's a little foolish. They thought cleaning would erase bad luck and drive out the evil spirits?

But regardless of his opinions on it, he must scrub, sweep, mop and dust until everything gleams and the floor is spotless. And that is all morning work. In the afternoon, he's told to go outside and help clear the fields for the spring planting. The ground now is hard and cold, the weeds and lonely stems stubborn.

By suppertime—or what used to be suppertime, when the sun is blazingly orange on the horizon—he's dirty, exhausted and wants nothing more than to curl up and go to sleep. But Kratos had said he'd show him something last night.

So Yuan trumps up the stairs—the ones that gleamed because he'd spent all morning cleaning them—and knocks on Kratos' door before poking his head in. "You in here?"

Kratos looks up, almost guiltily, from a sheaf of papers in his hands. He relaxes when he sees it's Yuan, but only marginally. Yuan tilts his head curiously at the papers. "What're those?"

"They're uh…just some stories I wrote."

Yuan sits by Kratos and skims over the papers. Kratos has told him that it's strange that Yuan can read Kratos' handwriting better than print on a page, but Yuan doesn't think it's so strange. After all, it's Kratos' handwriting that had taught him to read.

"What're they about?"

"Nothing important. Just…ideas."

Yuan looks at him. "They have to be important ideas if you wanted to write them down that badly." ("It had to be something special…")

"They're adventure stories."

Yuan smiles and wraps his arms around his knees. "Yeah? What kinds?"

"There's one with pirates." Kratos hesitates before adding, "And magic too."

Yuan laughs. "That sounds incredible! Can…can I read them? Try to read them, anyway." He still isn't too fluent with words on paper, still stumbles and has to sound out a lot of words, but it's a fascinating, if frustrating, challenge.

"You really want to?"

"Of course! Why wouldn't I? You'd make great stories! But…I might need your help reading them."

Kratos smiles, relieved. "Yeah, I'll help you."

It takes Kratos a few minutes to put them back into order before they both scoot back to sit against the wall, but not before Yuan checks that the door is locked and that the window is closed. Yuan reads slowly, carefully, as if the words might fall apart or lose their meaning if they were spoken in too loudly or too firmly a tone. Kratos likes hearing Yuan read, stumbling as it is. Yuan's voice when he read is sad, the kind of sad that came from the weak, the cautious and the trapped and their knowledge of the pitiless minds of the strong.

Kratos corrects him gently and points out what he did wrong. "Here, the H is silent."

"Why?" Yuan asks.

"I don't know. They never tell us."

They only make it through a few paragraphs—something else that Yuan isn't quite sure why they're there—before a strong knock comes at the door and they both wince. Kratos quickly shoves the papers back into their hiding spot inside a book while Yuan scrambles to his feet, running to the bathroom to pretend he'd been running Kratos his bath.

"Kratos?" Agenor's voice came through the door.

Kratos crosses to the door, hastily unlocking it. "Sorry. I was getting ready for a bath."

Agenor flicks a glance at the bathroom, where the sounds of running water were indeed coming from. "I thought you usually took baths in the morning."

"After the party last night, I was so tired that I overslept."

"Don't you have a slave to wake you up?"

"Usually, yes, but all the slaves were set to clean today. It's not that big a deal."

"No, I suppose not." Agenor says slowly. "Kratos, I wanted to talk to you about something, if your bath can wait."

"Yeah, of course. What is it?"

"Your father and I have been talking, and your father thinks that it's best that you go away to military school for the rest of your education."

Kratos finds that his brain doesn't quite feel like working and the more he tries to come up with a reply, the fewer thoughts there are in his head. Yuan freezes in the preparing of the bath. He didn't know the specifics, but he could put the general idea together.

Going away to military school. If Kratos left, Yuan would be without a friend. He'd just be another slave in the fields again. And Yuan knew full well what military meant. Kratos would be learning to fight. To kill. The idea is (almost) laughable. Kratos? Quiet, bookish, shy Kratos would be in the military?

Agenor studies Kratos for his reaction. He'd expected something. Horror, shock, fear, maybe even excitement, though it was a long shot. But there was nothing on the usually expressive boy's face. "Kratos? What do you think?"

Kratos knows that the fact that he might have a choice in all this is an illusion. He was going to military school. Period. And it was without Yuan. Period. "I-I don't know what to say."

"It's a good experience, I promise. You'll learn a great variety of things. You like learning, right?"

(Home doesn't get invaded by humans. Home doesn't have family and friends being marched out in chains! Home doesn't have bombs falling out of the sky and it certainly doesn't go up in flames!)

Were those the kinds of things he'd be learning? How to hurt people and destroy lives? He didn't want to learn those things. He only wanted to become a writer and go on adventures with Yuan, like they always talked about. That's all.

"Yes, I-I like learning."

"Then you'll like military school."

"Wh-when do I leave?" How much time do he and Yuan have left?

"The new term starts next week, Monday. You'll have to be there on Sunday to get all your things ready, so you have to be sure to be ready to leave by Sunday morning, alright?"

Kratos nodded, mouth suddenly very dry. A week. That's all the time he had left with his best friend before he never saw him again.