A/N: The new and improved chapter!

So, apparently, the Marmoran blades can signal danger? I don't know if it's danger in general, Galra, some sort of Blade code, or why it never happened with canon Keith, but I love it, and I will use it.

Slight (very slight) blood warning.

"How experienced are you with that knife?"

Keith studied the knife that had rarely been out of his grasp in the two days since awakening. He shrugged and looked back up at Matt.

Matt tapped his staff on the ground in thought. He had decided it best that Keith knew how to at least defend himself during his stay. It had taken very little convincing -it was more Keith convincing Matt that it would be fine, actually- for basic training to be planned.

Now, Matt and Keith had one of the small training rooms on Kraydah's moon to themselves. Olia was sitting against the wall, watching.

Without warning, Matt raised his staff and rushed at Keith. The best way to get a feel for the boy's abilities, Matt figured, was to see how he responded to an attack.

Keith, completely unprepared for the attack, gave a yelp of shock. His hands come up, but hardly in a fighting manner.

Matt swung his staff low, easily swiping Keith's feet out from under him. He was forced to follow up the first hit with a quick snap of his wrist, smacking Keith's hand and causing him to let go of the knife he had been holding backwards before he stabbed himself.

Keith crashed to the floor, flat on his back and hand stinging. He stared up at Matt with an expression of betrayal.

Matt sighed and held out a hand. "Looks like we're starting at the beginning."

Sullen, Keith sat up on his own and snatched up his blade from where it had fallen. He stood without assistance. He scowled at Matt's expression.

"Don't be that way," Matt said, holding back a laugh. He walked back to where the training weapons were kept, and grabbed a second staff. Both staffs were made of a rubbery sort of material that did much less damage than Matt's usual metal staff. "We'll just have to start with the basics."

Keith gave up being resentful when Matt held out the staff to him. His head fell into a cocked position as he put away his knife in the sheath and took the offered staff.

At once, it felt off to him. Too long, too heavy. But, he didn't say anything to Matt. Instead, he stubbornly lifted the staff in one hand.

"No, no," Matt said immediately. "Both hands. And put your feet further apart! You need a stable stance."

Several minutes later, Matt had Keith positioned to his satisfaction. He thought Keith looked uncomfortable in the stance, but put it to inexperience.

Matt ran through some basic techniques, then stood back while Keith performed them alone. His movements were stiff and unsteady, Matt saw right off. He also moved his feet around more than necessary, meaning it would be easy to knock him off-balance.

After an hour of watching Keith's ungangly attempts, Matt shook his head.

"Okay, just stop moving," Matt said, holding his hands up.

Keith complied, although he was slightly bent backward in a very awkward position. He did… hold it, though. He wasn't even wobbling.

"How are you holding that?" Matt asked, walking around Keith.

Keith huffed and attempted to swing his staff back at Matt, but Matt had seen his hold shift. He swung his own staff to intercept Keith's, following through with a thrust that wretched Keith's staff from his hand. The momentum threw Keith to the floor.

"Too obvious, bud," Matt said, standing over Keith.

Keith grunted and rolled to his knees. "I'm not your buddy."

"What else should I call you? Besides, you wanted me to teach you."

Keith's hand whipped out to snatch his staff. He swung at Matt's ankles, and the other boy barely leaped out of the way. Keith lunged to his feet, swinging the staff one-handed. Matt blocked it easily and swung himself. Keith ducked below the staff, lunging forward with his staff cocked behind him. He swung the staff forward, but Matt's leg came up to block it. Matt snapped his staff down, smacking Keith's head and making him stagger back.

"Keep your distance," Matt instructed, holding a ready stance. "The staff allows you to attack from a distance, out of reach of the enemy. With enough training, it becomes an extension of your arm."

Keith scowled and rushed Matt again, ignoring Matt's instruction. Matt spun away and batted away Keith's clumsy attempts to hit him with the staff. Keith didn't quit even then, so Matt kept up his defense, hoping Keith would calm down.

It didn't work. Ten minutes later, sweat was streaming down Keith's face. Matt was starting to get tired from just blocking, so he could only imagine how Keith felt. He had almost died less than a week earlier, after all.

"That's enough," Matt said, stepping backward.

Keith advanced again, and Matt had to block a swing from the staff. He put more force then normal into the divert, throwing Keith wildly off balance.

"I said, enough!" Matt said.

Keith only planted his feet and swung his staff one-handed. Matt swiftly brought up his staff with enough force to knock Keith's staff out of his hand. He darted over to the staff and picked it up before Keith could retrieve it.

The two boys stared at each other, panting heavily. Keith was scowling. Matt assumed it was at him, though Keith was mentally berating himself for losing to Matt so easily. He knew that Matt had been going easy on him, and he didn't like it.

"Matt? Pup?" Olia said hesitantly, speaking for the first time since the training began.

"That's enough for today," Matt said quietly.

After the disastrous training session, Matt didn't expect Keith to want more. But, Keith had come to him the next day, ready for another go. He grudgingly agreed, telling himself that a second session could only go better, right?

Wrong.

Matt was regretting the decision within ten minutes. That session went very much the same as the first had. Even then, Keith persisted on Matt training with him. Considering it always ended with Keith flung to the floor and Matt taking away his staff, Matt was at a loss by the time a week had passed.

Granted, Matt had to admit that Keith had some amazing reflexes. He almost always saw Matt's attack before he could strike, and was able to dodge away. His staff became an efficient blocker, but Matt had yet to see Keith use it on the offense to any degree of success.

Keith's flexibility continued to amaze Matt as well. He could throw his body into many positions that Matt couldn't achieve himself, and hold it as well. Each day, Keith revealed some new twist of his frame that had Matt wincing, but never seemed to bother him.

Still, for all the training and all Keith's defensive qualities, Matt didn't think he was a very good fighter. He was awkward in blows with the staff and always tried to get too close.

Now, two weeks had passed, and the only thing that had changed was that Keith had gotten better at dodging Matt's attacks.

"Would you just give me the staff?" Matt asked, exasperated.

Keith stood across the room, breathing hard and sweaty, but stubborn. He gripped the staff more firmly.

"Attack me!" Keith demanded.

Matt groaned and leaned forward to rest his hands on his knees. He checked the wrist computer -a glorified wristwatch that had some basic computer functions. His eyes widened when he realized that three hours had passed since the session started.

Thudding footsteps alerted Matt that Keith was running to attack, so he quickly straightened and brought up his staff in time to block the blow. He twisted the staff, throwing Keith off-balance. He lunged, but Keith was able to spin out of reach and brought his staff up again. A flick of the wrist, and Matt had Keith's feet out from under him. Matt leaped for the staff, only to have Keith kick up his feet and catch him square in the stomach. His breath whooshed away, allowing Keith to get to his feet and dart to a safe distance.

"I'm not quitting," Keith panted.

Matt fell to his knees and groaned out, "Yeah. No kidding."

This was how most of the sessions went now. Matt couldn't move fast enough to get Keith's staff, and he now tired at the same pace as Keith. The pair would face off briefly, before finally breaking apart. Matt could never recover fast enough to go after Keith before he caught his breath.

Matt was starting to think he needed back-up. Maybe on the first few days, he had gone easy on Keith, but Keith had improved so much on his defense. Matt was having to try harder and harder to disarm him, the only way that Keith would quit.

He glanced at the door, wishing that Olia would return. She had left soon after training started, choosing for some target practice in preference of watching the boys "run in circles trying to hit each other with sticks."

No sooner had his attention been diverted, Matt heard Keith making another rush. Stifling a sigh, Matt dove off to the side. He swiped his staff behind him, feeling contact and hearing Keith crash to the ground. He whipped around, only to have Keith kick off of his body. Both boys rolled across the ground in opposite directions.

As Matt was sitting up, Keith was already to his knees. Matt was ready to stand, when there was a brief, purple flash from behind Keith.

"What was that?" Matt asked.

"What?" Keith asked, tensing in anticipation of another attack.

Before either could make another move, the door slammed open. Olia rushed in, fear in her eyes. From outside, Matt could hear alarms.

"Galra!" Olia yelped.

Matt leaped to his feet. With a curt, "Stay here," to Keith, Matt tossed aside his training staff and rushed outside. Olia ran after him, slamming the door behind her.

Keith stared at the closed door, still crouched where he had pushed himself. He could still hear the faint sound of the alarms.

Galra. While he couldn't remember Galra, Matt had made it clear they were bad news. They would sporadically attack the base. They never succeeded in overrunning the medical base, but didn't seem to care. Rebels were injured, buildings wrecked, and sometimes equipment was destroyed.

Keith's grip on his training staff tightened as his eyes narrowed. No matter what Matt said or how awful he was at fighting, he wasn't just going to sit there while everyone else fought! He leaped to his feet and ran outside.

Matt and Olia ran to their barracks so Matt could grab a mask and get his staff made for real fighting. They rushed out of the oxygen tent, and were immediately confronted by Galra sentries.

Matt whipped up his staff, knocking off the first two robots' heads. Olia took out the next two with her energy pistol, clearing a path.

They didn't waste any time. They hurried to the nearest building, dodging Galra fire and sentries. Luckily, there were no ships in the sky besides the small carrier that had deposited the sentries.

Matt scanned the attackers, but didn't seen any flesh Galra. That meant that the attack had been one of the random patrols sent out by Zarkon. Which did have the benefit that the attacks wouldn't persist until the sentries ran out, but that still meant fighting until all the sentries were gone.

The pair reached a doorway and pressed themselves against the frame. Mikkal was there, brandishing a metal pole.

"Get inside," Olia said, positioning herself in front of the door. "We'll keep them from coming inside."

Mikkal nodded and vanished. Matt turned back to the approaching sentries, then ducked his head to rush them.

The first sentry went down after a blow to the chest, collapsing in a fit of sparks. Matt knocked out the legs of the next sentry, then spun away from a sentry's fire. Olia, still at the door, whipped up her gun and shot down the sentries closing in on Matt. Matt lunged and drove his staff through another sentry's chest, then took a moment to look around.

While the number of sentries was relatively small, there were also very few fighters for the rebels. Besides Matt and Olia, there were maybe a dozen capable fighters at the base, if they were lucky. Rebels came to the base often for a stopping place, but didn't stick around.

Matt narrowed his eyes. Well, they'd just have to make do.

"Matt!" Olia yelled as a group of sentries burst out from behind a nearby building.

Matt whipped around, but the lead sentry crashed into him before he could react. He was knocked the ground, staff flailing. He beat off the first sentry, then another grabbed the staff. He wretched on it, but the sentry's grip was firm as it tried to jerk away his weapon.

"Why'd they have to send the smart ones?!" Matt cried, kicking out.

The sentry caught his foot and jerked him around, throwing him half a dozen feet before he rolled to a stop. Wincing from the jar to his body, Matt shoved himself to his knees. He had lost his staff in the toss, it now laid a couple of feet from his hand. He lifted his head to see the end of a blaster in his face. He froze, mind scrambling for a plan. Before he could come up with anything, there was a wild cry from the left.

A familiar knife came spinning in from the direction of the shout. It stabbed into the sentry's shoulder, throwing it off balance.

Keith came running out of nowhere in a blur of white and red. He ran his shoulder into the sentry, and both went down.

Matt scrambled to his feet, snatching up his staff as he did. He swung it down, disconnecting the sentry's gun hand with a snap. He raised the staff, intending to finish the sentry, when a laser blast inches from his head made him flinch. He whipped around, raising the staff defensively.

A dozen sentries had closed in around them. A glance to the side revealed Olia to be struggling with a couple sentries on her own. Leaving Keith to wrestle with the disarmed sentry, Matt focused the ones surrounding them.

"Just hang in there, bud," Matt grunted, swinging his staff.

Keith, with his arms and legs wrapped around the sentry and stuck in a rough headlock, didn't answer. He spared to release one hand, reaching around for the staff he had lost in the tackle. When his hand closed on it, he wedged it between the sentry's arm and his body. He jammed the end of the staff into the ground and jerked up, breaking the arm free from the body. With one arm gone, Keith easily shoved free. He leaped to his feet, leaving his knife still embedded in the sentry's shoulder, and swung the staff into the sentry's side. The metal dented, but only slightly.

Matt, seeing that Keith was free, spun on his heel and smashed the end of the staff into the sentry. Keith dodged under his arm, jumping and knocking down another sentry just raising its gun.

"Would you stop just tackling them?" Matt demanded, knocking the last sentry standing out of commission.

"More incoming!" Someone yelled.

Matt whipped around. A blue humanoid like Lt. Ozar, named Casey, was pointing at the sky. Matt followed her pointing, eyes widening.

"Three more carriers!" Matt hollered.

The rebels, fighting off the last few sentries, turned to face the incoming ships. There were a few scattered groans, then a defiant cry.

"Freedom!"

"Matt!" And individual yell brought Matt's attention back to Keith.

Keith had both hands around the sentry's gun, struggling to keep it pointed at the sky. Matt swung, but the sentry jerked out of harm's way. The sudden movement dislodged Keith long enough for it to aim its gun and fire.

Pain shot up Matt's arm. He gave a shout of alarm and fell back, letting go of the staff to clutch his injured hand to his chest.

Olia shot the sentry she had been wrestling with and turned at Matt's shout. She whipped her gun up, but Keith had dived back onto the sentry, blocking her line of fire.

"Move, pup!" Olia yelled, eyes darting around. She had a moment before the Galra reinforcements landed.

Keith grunted and tried to kick away, but the sentry latched onto his wrist with its free hand. It shoved him to the ground, knocking away his breath and causing him to lose his staff.

Olia saw her chance. She whipped her gun up, then had to duck away from a shot from another sentry. She turned away from Keith, hoping that Keith and Matt could get themselves safe.

Keith, meanwhile, had just the presence of mind to jerk up his hands, freeing his wrist. He rolled away, attempting to leap to his feet but instead ending up in an unsteady crouch.

Matt was still on the ground, gritting his teeth as he ever so slowly crawled for his staff. Olia was still too distracted to help.

Keith had to move before the sentry had time to take aim. He lunged for the sentry, but it caught him in the chest and tossed him aside. Keith landed on his back with an oof, briefly too out of breath to move.

That was when Matt made his move. Snatching up his staff, he made an unstable rush at the sentry. It spun, catching Matt across the face and sending him back to the ground. The sentry raised its gun, training it on the stunned Matt.

Not Matt!

The thought screaming in his mind, Keith forced himself to his feet. The sound brought the sentry back around, a split-second away from firing.

Keith rushed forward, ready to simply tackle the sentry and subdue it until someone with a real weapon could help him.

Apparently, the sentry had wisened up to Keith's methods. It easily sidestepped, swinging its arm down to catch Keith in the middle of the back.

"These things are too smart!" Matt yelped, having finally caught his breath.

The sentry was ready to turn back to Matt, as if it couldn't decide who to shoot first. Keith flipped onto all fours, powered by adrenaline and frustration. If he just had a weapon.

At the thought, Keith became aware of an odd glow in his hand. He glanced down, raising his right hand as a red handle sort of thing that appeared when the glow disappeared. In the next instant, the handle transformed into a long, red and white sword.

Deciding to not question it, Keith gripped the handle of the sword and leaped to his feet. He swung the sword, feeling it slice cleanly through the sentry. It collapsed to the ground in two pieces just as Olia was turning back to them.

For a second, Olia just stared at Keith. She waved her paw in exasperation, saying with a bit of a snap, "You couldn't have done that sooner?"

"I didn't know I could!" Keith snapped back.

"Get down!" Matt shouted.

Olia automatically ducked. Keith turned, right arm raising when he realized that sentries had closed in and raised their guns to fire. Matt yelled as the sentries fired.

Time seemed to slow for Keith. He saw the laser blasts coming for him, too fast to dodge. So he didn't. He braced his legs and ducked his head, drawing his sword arm behind him.

Impact jolted Keith's arm, but that was all he felt. He raised his head, oddly unsurprised by the transparent blue shield that had appeared from his armor.

Keith dropped to his knees, keeping low so Matt was also protected from the shots. He grabbed his knife from the sentry's shoulder and sheathed it, then glanced at Matt, who stared at him with a gaping mouth.

"Will you be okay?" Keith asked.

"Wha?" Matt was aware of his mouth flapping like a fish out of water, but he couldn't help it.

Keith's eyes flashed in frustration. "Will you be okay?"

Matt shook off his shock and gripped his staff in his good hand. "I will be."

Keith nodded. "Olia, cover us!"

Olia nodded from her position in the doorway. She glanced at the scattering sentries, then pressed herself against the wall for protection.

Keith ducked his head, breathing, "3… 2… 1!"

Keith burst to his feet. He charged the sentries, keeping the shield up until the last moment. Feet away from the sentries, Keith's sword flashed up. He spun on his heel, slicing two sentries in half. Matt leaped beside him, slamming his staff through the next sentry's chest. Keith's head raised to see a sentry's gun aimed at him. In the next instant, it jolted and fell from a shot from Olia. Keith nodded to the Caneen before leaping back into the fray.

Keith wasn't sure how long they battled. His body almost seemed to move of its own accord, cutting down sentries one after another. Keith and Matt moved back-to-back, an almost unstoppable team with Olia backing them up.

For a long time, Keith was sure they were winning. Until he looked up during a lull, and realized two more carriers had landed. Fighters screamed overhead, blasting down on the base. The rebels were few and far between, often fighting more than three sentries apiece.

Matt, sensing Keith's pause, glanced up and felt his breath catch. "No… We can't win this!"

"We have to!" Keith growled.

He raised his sword, only to feel a persistent pulse pressing in on his skull. He gasped, stumbling a bit, but the feeling was dull. He assumed it was tiredness, until the sword flashed and began to shrink.

"No!" Keith tightened his grip, and the sword returned to normal. "We can still win this, Matt!"

"There's too many," Olia panted. She had been forced from her post when the fighters began to fire on the building she had been protecting. Only the sight of the last of the patients fleeing from the back door gave Olia some calm.

Keith yelled and threw himself back into the fray. Matt and Olia were close behind him, backing up their friend in the losing battle.

All the while, that pressing wouldn't leave Keith alone. Something was trying to draw his sword away, and it was taking more and more concentration to keep it materialized.

Casey ran by. She was supporting Lt. Ozar, whose left leg was turned the wrong way. She paused to say, "We're evacuating the base. Patients first, then get to whatever ship is available."

"No!" Keith said, twisting toward them.

In the moment of distraction, there was a flash from the sword. The next moment, the sword vanished. Keith stared at his suddenly empty hand, panic rapidly rising.

"We have to get everyone out of here!" Olia yelped, eyeing the patients rushing through the buildings. "Come on, pup!"

Keith growled and lifted his head. He drew his knife and nodded.

"Everyone, to me!" Olia yowled.

The rebels all broke off from their fights, rushing to form a wall between the sentries and the injured. The sentries regrouped and faced the rebels.

Keith, Matt, and Olia braced themselves. The battle wasn't theirs to win, only buy time for the injured to get away.

"The quest for freedom is won through sacrifice," Olia thought. It was the freedom fighters' mantra.

Everyone was ready to fight, when the sentries just froze. They stood in that position for a second, then turned as one and apparently retreated. The rebels were too stunned to move as the sentries loaded into the carriers, which then lifted toward the sky. Matt checked the sky, assuming they had a cruiser to finish off the base, but only saw Galra fighters turning away.

"I guess… we won?" Olia said as the last of the sentries were carried off.

"Oh, good," Matt said.

Matt collapsed to the ground, the adrenaline of the fight draining in an instant. The other rebels responded similarly, giving sighs of relief. Keith was the only one who didn't relax, though his expression was slowly moving back to his normal confusion.

Matt laid his head on the ground and closed his eyes. "Sit down, bud. You deserve a break."

Keith shrugged and silently sheathed his knife. He didn't make any move to sit, and Matt didn't push him to.

"Everyone seems okay," Olia said, scanning the base.

The rebels that had gathered around started to trail towards the few intact buildings. The doctors and patients moving around in the open were acting calm, so there couldn't have been any serious injuries.

Matt sighed. "Okay. I'll leave you in peace now and just die."

Olia's gaze whipped to Matt, but Keith simply snorted.

"You got hit in the hand. I think you'll live," Keith said.

Olia raised a brow, but shook her head when Matt gave a slight smirk. "I'll see how bad the damage was. Pup, get Matt to the infirmary."

Matt opened his eyes, sensing he wouldn't get any sympathy from Keith. The blow had mostly hit the staff, and only three of his fingers were bleeding. His palm was burned, but it had been mostly shock that had sent him to the ground.

Keith crouched. Without preamble, he took Matt's injured hand and lifted it. Matt hissed at the movement, but Keith gave no indication of hearing it.

"Stay here," Keith said after a moment. Without waiting for a response, Keith stood and trotted in the direction of the infirmary.

Matt stared at Keith's retreating back. Wasn't that what he had told Keith when the attack started? He was briefly tempted to get up and follow, but shook off the rebellious thought and looked around for himself.

Sentry parts littered the base. The first carrier that had brought them was a burning mess in the remains of a barracks that Matt knew to be empty just then. Besides the destroyed barracks and infirmary, several of the buildings had windows and doors shot out, and the entire corner of one of the other infirmaries had been destroyed. There was a gaping hole in the ground concerningly close to the underground hangers.

Rebels were already going about their business, some starting on repairs while others dragged the sentries into the "Shop" -a large building that they used to repurpose junk.

"Here."

Matt jumped, turning to see Keith once again beside him. The younger boy silently took his injured hand and started cleaning the blood from Matt fingers. He smeared a creamy ointment over the burns and cuts, then wrapped the hand with cloth. The whole time, Keith didn't say a word and the usual slight confusion in his eyes was replaced with focus. Once he had finished, Matt held up his hand to inspect.

He was impressed. The bandage was wrapped firmly around the hand, not leaving room for movement that would prevent the cuts from healing. Because of the ointment, the pain was rapidly fading.

"You did a good job," Matt said.

Keith shrugged. His usual look of confusion was back. He turned away and finally said. He thoughtfully took out his knife, causing Matt to remember his first attack.

"How far away were you when you threw that?" Matt asked.

"Um… twenty feet?"

"Twe- How?" Matt stammered out.

Keith rolled his eyes. "I just threw it. I was aiming for the head, anyway."

"You missed by, like, three inches." Matt rested his chin on his good hand. "Maybe I should have seen how you did with throwing knives first. Where did that sword come from? And, uh… where did you put it.

"I didn't put it anywhere," Keith said. "It just came out of nowhere, and left the same way.

"Aw, why do you get the magical swords," Matt said with a pout. He circled Keith, as if he had somehow hidden it behind his back. "Hm. It was the same colors as your armor. Maybe that has something to do with it."

Keith opened his hand, trying to will the sword back. He intended to have Matt inspect it, but no matter how hard he tried, the sword didn't return.

"What are you doing?" Olia asked, coming up behind the boys.

"He's trying to summon his magical blade," Matt said enthusiastically.

Olia stared at Matt, then turned to Keith. Since nothing was happening, Keith sheepishly lowered his hand.

"We can figure that out later," Olia decided. "There weren't any major injuries, but two of our fighters are in the cryo-pods. Repairs are already starting, so we had better help. Matt, how's your hand?"
"Good!" Matt lifted his bandaged hand. "He did a good job."

"Mikkal is a good medic. Fast, too," Olia commented.

"Not him." Matt shook his head and looked at Keith. "He did."

"Pup?" Olia said, a bit surprised.

"It's not that hard to bandage a hand," Keith said defensively.

Matt abruptly grabbed one of Keith's hands, making him yelp in surprise. Matt studied the hand, noting the pale scars.

"I think you've used knives frequently," Matt said. "Thus you have experience in bandaging your own hand."

Keith jerked his hand away. "So?"

"Our first hints to your past!" Matt said, resisting the urge to hop.

Keith looked down at the knife in his hand. Was it important to him in the past? He didn't like it out of his sight, but did that really mean anything? He closed his eyes and concentrated, but nothing happened.

"Don't worry about it." Olia laid her hand on Keith's shoulder, making him open his eyes. "Something could happen any day now."

"In the meantime," Matt said, bouncing a bit on the balls of his heels. "We'll give up trying to teach you to use the staff. You're hopeless."

Keith lightly punched his shoulder, starting to smile. Smirking, Matt went on.

"Like I said, you have a thing for blades. Eni knows a bit with the sword, maybe he can give you some pointers." Matt snapped the fingers on his good hand. "Hey! You need a sword related nickname."

"A… nickname?" Keith repeated.

"Exactly. After all, Olia's the Sharpshooter and I'm Reach," Matt said.

Keith looked at Olia, who nodded grudgingly. Her accuracy with her energy pistol had allowed what started as a joke to catch on. And Matt was so good at striking from a distance with his staff that he was sometimes called Reach.

"So what does that make me?" Keith wagged the knife he held. "Knife?"

"Eh… no, not good enough. Too specific, and kind of violent."

Matt's logic made Keith laugh a little. Matt fell silent to think. After a minute, Matt still had nothing.

"Come on, you can think while we work," Olia said, walking away.

Replacing the knife to its sheath, Keith turned to follow. The sound of snapping fingers made him pause and cock his head back.

"Blade!" Matt trotted up to Keith and clapped a proud hand onto his shoulder. "That suits you perfectly. Blade."

"Uh, huh," Keith mumbled, walking away.

"Just wait!" Matt said, following. "The name will stick! You're stuck with it, Blade."

"Whatever makes you happy," Keith said blandly.

Matt huffed and sped past Keith, who smiled. He wondered how long he could go before admitting he agreed. The name really did suit him.