Disclaimer: I do not own Tales of Symphonia. If I did, do you think I'd be sitting around here writing this crap?

Author's Note: How's this for an update time? Not too shabby, if I do say so myself! …Well, it is kind of long, and I apologize for that. But I hope that you like this chapter. It was fun to write especially since two new points of view are taking part! (Hooray!) Important stuff happens in this chapter, though, and I hope it doesn't feel too abrupt or anything. It is also shorter than previous chapters, but that's how it turned out. And caution yourselves: there may be some slightly emo content, and I do hope that the editing job is up to standards. A most humble thank you to all my reviewers; you make my world spin 'round and 'round, you really do. And also, thank you to all those who read my fic and don't review. But I will love you infinitely more if you leave a response!

Until we meet again!

—MindTricks

The Act of Shattering Peace

Chapter Eight:

A Swift End

Again…do it again.

Yuan stepped back from the thick tree, his blistered hands tingling as he regarded the ravaged bark. Planting his double-bladed weapon in the ground, he wiped his brow with the back of his wrist. He didn't know how long he had been out here, attacking a tree and peeling skin away from his palms. He didn't even know why, entirely. Why was he doing this? Yuan sighed, wrenching his weapon from the ground and wincing at the pain that stung all the way up to his shoulders. Again.

Taking a breath, he swung the blade in a full circle, spinning it around his hands as he shaved chunks of wood from the tree. After the fourth swing, the blade sunk deep into the flesh of the trunk with a jarring thud. With a sigh, Yuan extracted the blade and eyed the plant. Great portions of the tree's surface had been torn away and now lay scattered around the base of the trunk. He sighed. So much for getting better.

He was by the river again, the mid-afternoon sun high in the sky as he sparred against the tree. It had been several days since the guard had let his snide comment slip, and so far, there had been absolute peace. No more insults, no more beatings…it was as if everyone had forgotten everything about him. As if he had gone back to being Yuan, the half-elf who didn't really fit in, but wasn't regarded as a freak anyway. And yet, despite the unspoken "forgiveness," Yuan found himself experiencing something he hadn't in a long, long time: a sense of depression. He knew it was strange, but somehow he felt as if his life as he knew it was slowly slipping away, and there was nothing he could do to prevent it.

So for the past few days, he had snuck away from his home in the early morning and spent the day by the river, sparring against trees. It wasn't as useful as sparring against somebody else, but he didn't feel like asking Kratos to practice with him; anything as cheerful as that would be lost on him. Anyway, he liked the solitude. Nobody could tell him anything, and that was a blessed change.

Of course, because of this, he hadn't seen Martel in the past few days either. Yuan sighed again and leaned against the shaved tree. He hoped she didn't think he was avoiding her. He loved her, he really did, and that was why he didn't want to bother her with whatever issue he was going through. She had the right, more than most people he knew, to be happy. Always. And he wasn't going to be the one to make her worry.

----

Martel sat among the golden stalks of wheat as she watched her brother spar with the red-headed swordsman. It was a beautiful early-spring afternoon, perfect for being outdoors. Her blonde hair rippled slightly in the breeze, as did the entire wheat field. A smile twitched Martel's mouth. She and Yuan had always come here when the weather was nice. They would walk for hours it seemed, talking, laughing, just enjoying each other's company. It was amazing how much comfort another person's presence could give, how happy she felt during those simple moments. The smile steadily fell from her face. Amazing how much she missed him.

"Martel! Martel! Look!"

Martel snapped out of her reverie, a reflexive smile gracing her features as she looked up at her younger brother. "What is it, Mithos?"

"Look!"

Her eyes traveled from her brother to the tall swordsman, who was holding his hand cupped in front of him. Martel rose from the wheat, squinting as she tried to catch a better glimpse of what Kratos was holding. It wasn't until she had risen to her full height that she saw the flicker of flame within his hand.

She gasped, her hands clapping over her mouth in surprise. "Oh my—!"

Kratos smiled appreciatively. "It is nothing but mana manipulation, Miss Martel," he said. "There is no need to be shocked."

"How do you do it?" Mithos asked excitedly. "I want to learn!"

Kratos regarded the ten-year-old gravely.

"I will teach you," he began. "However, this is no simple task. It requires hard work and diligence on your part. It is also not without risks."

"I don't care!" Mithos said, gazing in awe at the flame still flickering in Kratos' palm. "That's amazing!"

"Mithos," Martel said reprovingly, but she smiled at the half-elf. "Think carefully before you make such a commitment. It sounds like a very difficult thing to learn."

Mithos nodded. "I know," he said, looking down at the wooden practice sword he still held in one hand. "But I want to learn." He looked up at Kratos determinedly. "I'll work hard! I promise!"

Kratos considered the young half-elf before nodding swiftly.

"Then I shall instruct you."

"Yeah!" Mithos exclaimed, an ecstatic grin plastered across his face. "Thank you!"

Kratos nodded in response and closed his hand into a fist, extinguishing the fire.

"Are you two finished here?" Martel asked, looking between the two.

Mithos looked up at Kratos, who nodded.

"I believe we have had sufficient practice for today," he said.

"Excellent!" Martel said with a smile, clapping her hands together. "Well, why don't we go back to the village and I'll fix us something to eat?"

Kratos bowed swiftly.

"It would be much appreciated," he said.

"I'll help, Martel!"

"Thank you! That's very kind." She smiled. "In fact, would you do me a very big favor, Mithos?"

"Anything, Sis!"

Martel laughed softly, leaning her hands on her knees to talk to her brother. "Would you run home ahead of us and start a fire in the oven? I feel like baking something."

Mithos nodded. "Okay!"

"Thank you, Mithos," Martel said, enveloping her brother in a quick hug before letting him run ahead of them, his hair as golden as the wheat.

Waiting until Mithos was out of earshot, Martel turned to Kratos.

"I haven't heard from him, no," Kratos said heavily before she could speak. Martel sighed, and the two started their trek through the wheat field.

"I miss him," Martel said quietly. "What happened? Everything was fine, and then he suddenly stopped dropping by." She looked up at the redhead. "Did I do something? Did he say anything to you?"

Kratos shook his head. "Do not believe that you are the source of Yuan's absence," he said. "That could not be farther from the truth. The truth, however, I am unsure of."

"Then I could be the cause," Martel said quietly, looking down at her hands.

"No," Kratos said. "You are not. Granted, I do not know Yuan's reasons for avoiding us, but I am absolutely sure that they are not because of you."

"Us?" Martel repeated disbelievingly. "He is avoiding you as well?"

Kratos nodded solemnly. "Indeed. I have tried to speak with him, but he has done an admirable job in hiding from me."

Martel stretched her fingers out, letting them trail across the tips of the wheat. "I hope he's all right."

"Yuan, while he may not show it sometimes, is an intelligent and strong individual. I have no doubts that he is taking care of himself commendably."

A smile danced hollowly on her lips. "I hope so," she whispered. And as she strode back to her home, Martel made a silent prayer to Kharlan, wishing that that half-elf with the blue hair and the kind smile would find happiness, wherever he was.

----

Yuan fell hard against the ground, his weapon slipping from his limp grip. His breathing was shallow as he surveyed the tree, which now gave the impression that it had had an unpleasant encounter with a rather enormous beaver. Yuan huffed with bitter laughter at the thought. Yuan the beaver.

Grabbing his weapon with a raw hand, he planted it in the ground and heaved his aching body to its feet. It was almost dusk; time to be thinking about going home. Yuan mentally shrugged the idea away. Home meant people, and people he wasn't ready to face.

For a while he stood panting, leaning on his weapon for support and staring absently at the tree he had succeeded in mauling. Glancing at his upturned blade, he realized that it would probably need some sharpening. Yuan could just imagine the fit Kratos would have if he told the swordsman exactly what he had been sparring with. A twisted smile met his mouth. Might prove to be amusing, actually.

Turning from the tree, Yuan searched the ground for a stone with which to sharpen his blade, but a whiff of smoke stopped his progress. Frowning, he sniffed the air. Smoke. Where? he thought, looking around him, before looking up. Sure enough, a stack of black smoke was rising steadily into the sky.

Usually, he wouldn't be concerned. Smoke could mean nearly anything: a cooking fire, a lost person, burning debris. However, he didn't know of any smoke signals that Heimdall was famous for, and never before had anybody in the village burned the quantity of debris it would take to create that huge a cloud. No, whatever it was that was burning was big and was definitely inside the village.

Yuan pushed his way through underbrush and between trees, dragging his heavy weapon behind him. His pace quickened as the smell of smoke grew stronger, and by the time the trees were thinning, he was traveling at a brisk trot.

The guards weren't at the gate when he arrived, and Yuan ran into the village, bearing right to reach his home.

His feet came to an abrupt halt.

Yuan had never lived far from the gates of the village. In fact, the house his parents had moved into was caddy-corner to them. Easier to get out, his human mother had told him. She had smiled as she said it, and young Yuan hadn't really understood what she had meant by it. Not until she had left the village and never returned, leaving the house to Yuan. Not until his father had gotten killed in a drunken accident that even to this day, nobody mentioned. Not until he had watched the fiery blaze consume everything he connected with home.

He could say nothing, just stare as the small, wooden house burned to the high heavens, smoke billowing from familiar rooms and windows, memories that were, at this point, far beyond repair. With a splitting crack, a beam broke, sending burning embers high into the air, showering the crowd with sparks. Yuan looked among the group of citizens of Heimdall grouped before his house: sparse humans, some half-elves, mostly elves. And looking around at their stony expressions, Yuan finally understood.

"Oh," he said softly, the only thing he could think of to say. "I see."

A flash of red in the corner of his eye, made him tear his eyes away from the fire long enough to see Kratos, out of breath and wide-eyed, halt when he saw Yuan's house. Glancing back to the crowd, Yuan grinned and raised his hands above his head.

"Hey," he said, loud enough so they could hear him over the crackling of his house. "I know when I'm not wanted."

"We're sorry about your house, Yuan," a voice called from the crowd. Yuan bobbed his head.

"Yeah," he said. "I'm sure you guys are. Accidents happen, you know?"

Like me, I'm sure.

"Yuan—" It was Kratos calling this time.

"Hey, take care of Martel for me, will you?" Yuan said, turning his back on the fiery spectacle and walking toward the gate.

"Yuan, I—"

"I said, take care of her!" Yuan snapped, trying to settle the fear welling up in his stomach. "Damn it, Kratos, if you don't, I'll kill you!"

Forcing himself to concentrate on the forest ahead, Yuan walked out of the gates, his neck stiff to prevent himself from looking back.

This is how you did it, huh, Mom? he thought bitterly. Just walked away from what meant most and never looked back? He stifled a sigh and lifted his chin. Must be in the blood.

----

Kratos watched his friend leave the village and disappear into the woods. His hands clenched into fists.

Footsteps were steadily approaching, and Kratos looked down the road to see Martel running toward him. Not five minutes ago, he had been sitting with her and Mithos in her home and eating dinner. Taking a brief moment outside, he had smelled smoke and gone in search of it without saying a word to his host. Discourteous, he knew, but Martel needn't have been worried over something as trifling as burning debris. This, however, was quite a different story.

"Mister Kratos!" Martel called breathlessly as she approached. "What is it? What's the—" Her voice caught in her throat as she arrived in front of him. Her blue eyes grew wide with fear.

Kratos barely moved fast enough to grab Martel before she flung herself toward the burning wreckage.

"Miss Martel, don't—"

"Yuan!" she screamed struggling against Kratos' grip. "Where is Yuan!"

"He is safe," Kratos said, trying to calm her, despite his own heart racing with anxiety. "He is safe, I promise you. He left only a moment before you came. Do not fret. He is fine."

Martel stopped struggling and looked up at Kratos, tears already spilling from her eyes.

"He…he is?"

"Yes," Kratos said, trying to smile, trying to do something to make peace in the situation. So far, he was failing miserably.

"Is he…is he hurt? Where did he go? Mister Kratos, where did he go?"

Kratos lowered his gaze.

Damn it, Kratos, if you don't, I'll kill you!

"This is not the time," Kratos said quietly. "We must wait for this chaos to subside, and then we may seek out Yuan—"

"No," Martel said frantically. "I need to see him. Please, Mister Kratos—"

"I—"

"Well, well, well. Kratos Aurion."

Kratos turned around at the harsh voice. Three men stood in front of him, all clad in black. The one in the middle, and closest to him, had a stubbly beard and continued to speak while his cronies stood behind him, silent. "It's been a long time."

Kratos' brown eyes narrowed, and he shifted his position so Martel was partially hidden behind him.

"Speaking?" he asked, his left hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword.

The bearded stranger smirked. "Should have known," he sneered. "You don't remember the faces of your victims."

"No, especially since once they are my victims, they are dead," Kratos said, his eyes still narrowed. There was something about this man that was awfully familiar and that he didn't like at all. "Regardless, what is your business with me?"

The bearded stranger laughed. "Who's that pretty face behind you, eh?" He tilted his head to once side as he regarded Martel. "Ah. She must be the one all the boys here are crazy over. Aren't you, you pretty—"

"Your business is with me," Kratos growled, stepping in front of the bearded stranger as he moved towards Martel. "I would suggest spitting it out before I have to force it from you."

"As you say, Lord Kratos," the bearded man said with a mock bow. Kratos' jaw tightened, and his mind went to his friend, no doubt wandering aimlessly in the woods because of the insolence, stupidity and prejudice of a few.

"This actually worked out better than expected," the bearded man continued, nodding at the wreckage behind him. "Here I was only doing a favor for the rest of the village, setting this guy's house on fire—"

"What!" Martel's voice rang out shrilly from behind Kratos. "Why would you do—!"

"Easy come, easy go, honey," the bearded man said with a shrug and a grin. "This fine gentleman in front of you just happened to live around here, so I decided to make a deal with a young man, whose identity will remain anonymous at his request. That young man told me where I could find you, Mister Aurion and in return I burned down this 'Yuan' guy's house. Not a bad deal, really."

Kratos felt as if his jaw were going to snap under all the pressure it was under.

"So if you really want to blame someone for that mess," the bearded man said, nodding at Yuan's house. "Blame him." He pointed directly at Kratos' chest.

"How dare you," Martel snarled, her voice and clenched fists shaking. "How dare you do this and then try and blame it on somebody else—!"

"Miss Martel, no!"

Kratos grabbed Martel by the arm as she strode past him, pulling her back and resuming his place in front of her. Two of the black-clad men laughed heartily, while the one with the white mask remained motionless.

"What is your quarrel with me?" Kratos growled.

The bearded man's face turned sour. "You don't remember."

"To my knowledge I have done you no wrong, sir," Kratos spat. "And I have no quarrel with you that would endanger the citizens of this town. If you wish to fight me—"

"Oh I wish to fight you," the man said, his voice quiet, yet full of danger. "I wish to rip you apart with my bare hands for what you did—"

Kratos sighed in exasperation. "And I wish that imbeciles such as you didn't exist, but the world isn't fair, now is it?"

The man glared murder at Kratos as he spat, "You'll see. You'll see you smart-ass of a bastard. You'll pay for what you did to my father. But you'll pay slowly. Just like you lost your house, your friend lost his house, eh? I can't wait to see your face as you can do nothing but watch as more houses mysteriously burst into flames. Not going to fight me here, eh? Well. We'll see about that."

Without another word, the bearded man nodded to the small figure in the white mask. The masked man raised his hand, and the next moment, the three disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

Kratos squinted through the haze at the place where the three strangers had just been. Well, they had given their identity away all right.

"Mizuho," he muttered.

"Mister Kratos."

Kratos turned to Martel who looked as if she were stuck halfway in between fury and tears.

"I need to see Yuan," she said, trying her best to steady her trembling voice. "Where did he go?"

"I do not know exactly where—"

"Please!" Martel cried, grabbing two fistfuls of Kratos' shirt. "You are the one he would tell something like this to! You know where he might be going! Please, Mister Kratos, if you don't tell me, Kharlan help me, I will wander those woods forever until I find him safe!"

Kratos stared down at the half-elf, her eyes full of tears and her voice choked with emotion. He sighed, looking down at her hands holding him captive.

Forgive me, my friend, he thought as he returned his gaze to Martel's.

"There is a river near here," Kratos whispered. "It is not far from the village, but out of all likelihood, that is where Yuan is headed. After exiting the gates, travel straight, but steadily move to your left and you will find the river. I cannot guarantee that he is there, but that is my best guess."

He felt the grip on his shirt diminish, and Martel smiled up at him.

"Thank you," she murmured, gathering his hands briefly in her own in thanks.

Kratos nodded silently, as Martel turned, and walked swiftly toward the gates.

"I will tell," Kratos said, raising his voice so she could hear him, "Mithos that there is nothing to worry about. He will be safe with me."

Martel turned back, smiled, and nodded once, another "thank you" mouthed on her lips. Kratos sighed as he watched her go.

I'm sorry, he thought, running a hand through his messy red hair. But the one you love has a mind of her own.

Shaking his head, he turned and strode quickly back to Martel's house.

----

A/N: There we have it! Hope you enjoyed it, and yes, poor Yuan. He goes through a lot, doesn't he? I really have taken a liking to his character, though. Who would have thought? Anyway, I hope you liked it and will continue reading! (Once I update again…sigh…)

—MT