Disclaimer: I don't own anything!

Author's Note: Spring Break…such a wonderful time. I forgot to say that if there's anything that anyone wants to see in this, let me know and I'll write it in somehow.

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Trust is letting go of needing to know all the details before you open your heart. ~Author Unknown

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The boys are hardworking, the old man notes. Perhaps this new generation wouldn't be so lost after all, like so many others of older generations complained.

The human boy—Kratos, he reminds himself. He has a name—is a little clumsy, but he's smart. He learns by watching, the old man notices. He watches him demonstrate it several times before attempting to do the move by himself. Usually, there are few mistakes.

The other boy—Yuan—he threw himself into the training with a lack of fear that reminded the old man of someone who was too accustomed to being high up to bother with remembering what the ground felt like. He was creative and sometimes a little snarly, but then Kratos would quietly come up to him and point out what the old man had just pointed out as wrong.

They had found a double-ended spear in the storage room, half rusted and splintered. But the old man had seen Yuan's face when they found it and the boy had seemed drawn to it. He'd smiled and said that he'd find some sandpaper to take care of the splinters and that surely, there had to be something for rust somewhere in this military school.

Now, the spear gleamed in the moonlight and Yuan was slowly becoming almost graceful with it, despite the fact that the spear was taller than him by almost two heads and a half.

The old man stopped him and swept out the inside of Yuan's leg so that his stance widened. "Legs apart. If you're not grounded, you're going to end up on the ground and then you'll be dead. And relax your shoulders. You won't be able to react quickly enough otherwise."

Yuan caught Kratos subtly shifting his stance and glared at him, slightly irritated that he hadn't gotten caught. Kratos just smirked.

The old man works them hard, until they're shaking with the effort to stand and they have to work for breath. Finally, when they're collapsed on the ground, weapons about them, the old man will hand them a canteen of water.

After handing the canteen to Yuan, Kratos asks, "Where'd you learn all this?"

The old man glances at him. "What?"

"How to fight. Where'd you learn?"

"That's not important."

"It is to me."

The old man studies him. Kratos was not one for demanding answers, but he was not above quietly insisting or wheedling them out of people. It was subtle, especially for a child, and it hinted at the intelligence behind the young exterior. The boy would be frightening when he grew into himself, when he found his confidence.

"Why?" The old man asks finally.

Kratos looked genuinely confused. "I'm just curious."

Yuan didn't seem surprised and the old man catches the way that suddenly, the half-elf's attention is focused on him, listening for any hesitation, studying his body language. Yes, the boy knew how to make himself invisible, knew how to keep all the attention off of him.

"I'm sure you've heard about what that did to the proverbial cat."

"How wonderful that I'm not a cat, isn't it?" Kratos shot back. Oh yes, the boy had a sharp wit.

"Yes, I suppose it is." The old man leaned against the fence. "And the answer to your question is very simple. My master taught me."

"And what was the name of the place you were at at the time?"

"Now you're asking the proper questions. It was in the elven lands."

"Half-elves aren't welcome there." Yuan speaks up.

The old man is careful about his next words. "No, they aren't."

The sudden guardedness in Yuan's eyes let him know that the half-elf had put two and two together. Yes, the boy was bright, particularly when instincts were involved.

"You're an elf." Yuan said quietly. "A full-blooded one."

"Yes."

Suddenly, Kratos is tense. Even in these children, so far from the front of the war, the prejudice was strong. Though, the old man admits, in this case, it's not prejudice so much as protectiveness. The boys are very close after all.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Kratos' voice is deceptively calm, but the old man can hear the suspicion, the distrust beneath it.

"Because it doesn't matter."

"It kind of does." Yuan says when Kratos keeps quiet. "Why are you so far from your homeland? Why would you want to help out a human and a-a…a half-breed." The last word was spat out and the old man knows that the boy has heard that word too many times.

"I have never and will never use that term with you." To his shame, the old man has used it before, in the hazy days of his youth so many decades ago. But he had changed a great deal since then.

"Doesn't matter. Why?"

"Because you need my help. Do I need a better reason?"

The old man sees Yuan open his mouth to argue before he snaps it shut again. The boy had no argument for that one. But Kratos steps up, moving just a little in front of Yuan. It was instinctive and protective, something that the old man thinks he'd like to see again when the boy became a man. (The only time that the boy is unafraid, is confident, is when he is with Yuan) "You didn't answer the first question."

"That is none of your business, boyo. Trust me or not, as you choose, but choose now."

The boys glanced at each other, soundless words passing between them. (Should we…don't…helped us…an elf…trusted you, didn't I…different…)

"We'll trust you." Kratos said, turning back towards him. (They always spoke like that, in terms of we and us and everyone else was Them). "For now."