"Really, we'd have cleaned ourselves up properly but well…this itself will use some water. And we'd have something better than this on, but really, what is more respectful of this world than the armour we're wearing in order to defend it? That's what I've come to think, anyway. But come on, come in. I suppose you are bowing after all, though you do not need to, not for me."

Keno's room was no dusty tent on a battleground. In fact, the door was more than enough to accommodate the height of even the tallest of them. Nonetheless, he bent as if to duck and then bowed in the proper way, remembering his own reply that day.

"You're the one I need to bow to more than anyone."

"Oh?"

Keno's gaze flickered upwards. The sunset felt like it was taking a longer time than usual to come than it usually did. Everything was still bright with the cold Crow Moon daylight, not warm like the sparkle that had appeared in Eita's eye that evening, followed by a rare smile.

"Anyway, come in, come in."

Eita's expression returned to thoughtful and he sat with his hands in his lap as Keno came to sit before him. The folded blanket that Eita used as a cushion was the lumpiest one they had but he didn't seem unruffled. Keno wanted so badly to make him get up so that he could get him a softer blanket from his own, but he liked seeing Eita like this, too.

Keno stepped into his room, and closed the door quietly. He walked to the arrangement he had set up before he'd gone off to do his duties that day and carefully knelt on the blue silk cushion he'd bought from a local shop in the previous century. He had never been one for shopping, but getting the cushion and the other tea ceremony supplies had been an easy way of 'making nice with the locals' as Cher had pointed out that they needed to do. He had been back a few times since then, buying more things just to add to the collection, even though he never invited anybody to the versions of the ceremonies he did now.

Why would he?

The only person he wanted to invite was the one person he could not.

Eita reached into his pocket and pulled out a small scrap of silk, white and miraculously clean. Noticing that Keno had noticed, Eita blushed:

"It's one of Rielle's tricks." He explained simply.

He unfolded it, inspected it in measured movements before then turning his attention to the tools laid out. With the same precision he wiped down the tools of the tea ceremony before holding them out to Keno to inspect. With each one, he gave a simple nod but in truth, he wasn't looking so much at the tools as he was their handler. Of course, that did not change his satisfaction with what he saw.

Keno's cloth was a proper fukusa, in purple as was tradition. No patterns, but under the sunlight the threads of the silk glittered in different ways with each motion as he unfolded it and inspected it. With nobody to show it to he went straight to cleaning the ladle and the two tea bowls he had set out. He lingered on the patterns of birds on them, marvelling at how smooth they were as he rubbed them. They were a world away from what they'd had to use as tea bowls back then.

"Old helmets? It's a creative transformation."

"Oh, I knew that you would appreciate it. Well then, shall we begin?"

The furo had been all set up, and all he had to do was light it, waiting for the water in the copper kama above. Using the fukusa as a shield he put his hand on the pot, imagining Eita's hands handling it nimbly, setting it on the clunkier so-called portable stove that Eita had used in lieu of the proper thing. You'd like it, wouldn't you, he thought, you'd be pleased that I've got a proper furo now, wouldn't you? Eita's hands, moving with practised ease as if this dusty tent on a battleground was the same as his tatami-covered rooms. Imagining Eita's hands so close to his own that he could reach out if he wanted to. It was easy to imagine. After all, this was the same kama that Eita had used back then, whenever he'd managed to find a moment in those frantic times to have a tea ceremony. After the war was over, it was one of the few things Keno had carried from the battlefield into this new life as a professor.

The steam curled upwards in elegant swirls, and Eita lifted the lid of the kama. Eita nodded in satisfaction and set it to the side. Then, he got the chashaku and opened the tea caddy before him, scooping three scoops of the matcha powder into his bowl, and three into Keno's bowl. He paused, his eyes flicking upwards to meet Keno's before adding two extra scoops and closing the caddy.

Keno's lips curved into a smile as he started to ladle in the boiled water, using his magic to pick up the whisk and stir the tea at the same time. He couldn't help but keep smiling, knowing that Eita would surely disapprove. But then the two bowls of tea were completed and all he could do was stare at them, joy fading.

"Here you go. Please, enjoy."

He loosely cupped his hands around the bowl with the stronger tea, but did not lift it. He wanted this memory to continue along, to picture Eita with his own cup, with the contentment clear on his face even with the ever-rising steam, of kissing him between sips of tea even though that was very, very unholy (not, of course, that either of them minded). He wanted to remember how unusually quiet it had been that evening, even with the sounds of their fellow comrades going about their own tasks.

But he was looking at the scene in front of him, of the empty tatami mat before him, and the walls with their silken tapestries that changed their images depending on what lights were in the room. He looked up the high ceiling with decorations hanging, his mahogany chests of drawers and weapons brackets affixed to the walls, the weapons glistening as they hung elegantly in them. He looked at his futon, rolled up in the corner and waiting for night, the dark blue curtains at the window, his collection of bird feathers in boxes above his wardrobe with all kinds of garments inside and a cloak that Mshrupo had knitted for him hanging on the outside. The books and piles of printed-out lesson plans teetering in towers here and there around the edges of the room. It was a room befitting of his new life, not of the one he was reliving through this tea ceremony.

All he had from that old life was his memories, and the scars and the kama. And transformation was the way of life, he did not regret not having more possessions from that old time but Eita. Eita was meant to be the one constant, the one thing that ensured that at the core of whatever transformations he undertook he would always be him. That he could change and evolve without losing himself.

Or, more simply, he'd always taken it for granted that Eita would be by his side, especially once they'd lost their mortality together.

Yet here he was, all these years later, conducting a tea ceremony for two people even though it was just him, in a room that would always be empty no matter what he filled it with because it was missing one vital thing. It was missing Eita. He was missing Eita, wishing that he could have something of him alongside the memories and the pain of his scars and the kama that still held the water that he should really have poured back out into the container meant for waste water.

Water.

Wait.

Before he forgot again, he poured the waste water away into the right container before then going to the window, opening it. He couldn't see the river well from here, but it didn't matter. Even so far away, he could hear the sound of the water flowing gently, the grass of the riverbanks rustling softly. Both low-pitched, thoughtful sounds, just as Eita's voice had once been.

"I hate this war. If you weren't there with me, I'm not sure I could stand it. If we were not able to have tea together, I'm not sure I would stand it."

Keno took a deep breath, then turned to the two bowls of tea still waiting, and he thought:

Maybe, we can still have tea together, can't we?

…

He first transformed the bowls of tea into orbs, slightly heated so that the liquid inside them would not cool. Then, he transformed into one of his favourite forms, that of the eagle, and grabbed the orbs in his talons before then flying out. When he got to the river, the sun was starting to set. He landed, and set the orbs down before first transforming back into his human shape before then transforming the orbs back into the tea bowls, only to realise that he did not have the silk cloths typically used to rest the bowls on.

In his imagination, Eita frowned at him and he smiled back, apologetically.

"Just like back then, this is a different situation too." He explained aloud. "And as with all different situations, we adapt."

He picked up his bowl, and then considered the other bowl before gazing at the clear water. He remembered the day they had all stood along the riverbank on another Crow Moon day, pouring Eita's ashes into the river. On that day, the river's water had glowed so brightly he'd had to shield his eyes and then once that glow had settled, the water had seemed clearer than it had before. If that was not proof that Eita still somehow had a presence in the river, he didn't know what was.

"In a way, it is as if you're the river yourself, yes?" he asked. "And what a transformation that is, if that's the case. I wonder though, will you be able to taste the tea?"

After a moment's hesitation, he used his magic to lift the second bowl. He turned it so that the undecorated side faced the river, while he turned the bowl in his own hands so that it was the undecorated side he would sip from. Then, as he tilted the bowl in the air so that the tea would slowly drip out into the river, he began to sip.

The river sparkled as each drop of tea hit it, and he watched it quietly as he drank his own tea. More memories ran through his head of all the other times they had drunk tea together. Not just the stolen moments during the war, ensconced in his dusty tent with makeshift tools but from before that too, when the times had at least been stable enough that Eita could do the tea ceremonies properly, with his proper tools and both of them wearing kimonos. The times when they had been happy. But they were such distant memories, and it startled him to realise that it really had been a long time ago. That at this point, he had lived more than a lifetime's worth of his life without Eita, than he had with him.

Have I made my peace with it, he wondered. Am I really alright with this? The last drops from the floating bowl dripped into the river, and the glow faded. He watched as the green of the tea rapidly spread out and disappeared, as if it really had been lapped right up. Slowly, he set the bowl down on the grass, then did the same with his own bowl before trailing his hands in the river briefly.

I have to be alright with it, don't I?

He got the chawan out from his pocket and began to wipe down the bowls.

"See, Eita," he said as he did so. "I remembered this at the very least. As for the rest…I'll clean it when I get back, alright? And I'll do it properly but just…we can sit together for a moment, can't we? Even though you're a river and no longer alive, and even though I'm a professor and have lived for almost two centuries now, we can sit together, can't we?"

"Hey, let's sit together for a moment," Keno said. "Things could get chaotic at any moment. I'll help you clean up afterwards but we can just sit together for now, can't we?"

Eita's eyes swept around the tent before returning to Keno. He tilted his head, and then gave another rare, warm smile:

"Yes, we can."

And so they sat together, in that rare moment of peace.

The sunset continued to brighten the sky, new colours spreading and blooming across it, occasionally getting swallowed up by each other. Gradually, the darkness started to creep in, taking all the colours with it as inched across the expanse. He did not make any move to leave, or even to bring any light into the area. Instead, he continued to sit until he heard sounds coming from further down and spotted Yanovi and Shippa leaving Aeternum and crossing the bridge. He watched them as Snow, Mshrupo and Reoni walked down from the garden and spotted Yanovi and Shippa, greeting them enthusiastically before continuing on towards where he was sitting.

"Keno!" Mshrupo said, running slightly ahead to stand right before him.

"Misha." He greeted in return.

She smiled, and then looked at the two tea bowls before sitting down opposite him. The others, when they caught up, remained standing while Mshrupo looked out across the river.

"Are you alright, Keno?" Shippa asked.

"Yes, sure," Keno replied. "I was just having some tea with Eita."

When Shippa frowned slightly at him, he smiled.

"In a manner of speaking, anyway."

"Oh, bless you," Yanovi said, eyes misting over. "Even after all this time it's still hard, isn't it? Really they should have been here with us, shouldn't they? Living and breathing properly."

Keno felt a lump in his throat. He tried to swallow it, to find something to say to comfort Yanovi as she dabbed at her eyes delicately. But unexpectedly, Snow spoke.

"I think he liked it."

They all looked at her, and she blinked back at them. For one terrifying moment her gaze seemed vacant before she suddenly smiled.

"I mean, if Rielle can hear the music, and Lowen feels the sun then surely Eita can taste the tea?"

Keno nodded, still not quite able to speak. I really, really hope you could taste it, Eita. And more than that, that you enjoyed it just as we used to enjoy tea together before. Snow beamed and Mshrupo smiled, getting up and brushing down her skirts before holding a hand out to Keno.

"I know you'll need to make sure all the things are tidied properly, but do you want to walk back with us? And then have dinner together?"

Keno sighed and took one last look at the river. It was completely dark now, save for the small orbs of light that Reoni had set off floating around them. Then he turned back to the small group of his comrades and nodded.

"Sure."

He took Mshrupo's outstretched hand and allowed himself to be helped up, even though he didn't strictly need it. He then gathered up the bowls before they then walked back to the building.