I am very well aware that this chapter is more than simply 'late' and while I think I'm not too bad with words, though by far not as good as I'd like and you deserve, I haven't got words to express how very sorry I am for promising a faster release and then not delivering.
Seriously, I am so grateful to anyone who actually still reads this, and a big motivation of mine is to entertain you, and if only one person is to like my story, to wait for an update, that would be more than I could ever have hoped for.
Also if any of you is among those who've favo'd "Lowered Defences", I'm feeling so humbled for 40 favos! I guess this isn't the right place to write this thank you, but it's the only place where I think people will actually see it, so that's why I'll leave it , and special thanks to the only reviewer for the last chapter, for pointing out my mistake. I surely make a lot of them, especially with english sayings, so if you notice a mistake please tell me so I can fix it and avoid it in the future.
Sorry for kinda rambling on, I hope the chapter will at least somehow be worth the wait!

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Chapter 5: May – Skill

He that wrestles with us strengthens our nerves and sharpens our skill. Our antagonist is our helper.
- Edmund Burke

There was the sound of metal clashing on metal, something slicing through air, follow by a muffled grunt. Another clash, and a huff, then a barely contained cursing, and clicking, as the epee fell to the ground.

"My hands are so sweaty, I can't keep a grip on this stupid thing!", Jem complained loudly. "Seriously, director, can't we stop it already? We haven't done anything else than fencing for six freaking hours, and there isn't even going to be any fencing fight in the next play."

The gaze the director cast him said everything, and instantly silenced Jem's whining.

With a sigh he turned back to Nezumi, wiped his hands dry at his trousers and tightened his clasp on the picked-up epee. Nezumi only looked at him with utter calmness, not seeming particularly out of breath or exhausted, but only Nezumi knew it was mostly facade. The heat had hit the city without any warning, and it had taken a toll on everyone residing in No.1. Sadly Nezumi was no exception. He only was better at not showing the strains.

"Okay, enough of the chatting, there's work to do." their instructor exclaimed and clapped his hands impatiently. He'd been hired by Anthony for the whole week, but one week wasn't that much time to learn all necessary techniques to make a fight look good on stage and still be harmless to the participants.

"Also are you the director?" Anthony, who was sitting contently on the edge of the stage, looking over some parts of the script, interjected. "You have no way of knowing if my interpretation should contain a sword fight. So get it on, we haven't got all day!"

"You've got to talk, sitting there watching us sweating." Jem muttered, but raised his hands in defends right before he could get chastised again. "Right, right, fighting, I got it." With that he cast Nezumi a glance that was probably supposed to say something along the lines of 'they simply enjoy to see us suffer, but you're not even sweating'. Perhaps a little blame lay in the gaze, but Nezumi only smirked. An unspoken provocation, a fuel to the fight. 'Come and get me, if you think you'll be able to.' his smirk implied. He earned raised eyebrows on Jem's part. And as raised the epee a little higher then the height of his waist, Jem instantly mirrored his action.

The muttered "Finally." of Anthony was gracefully ignored by both for the sake of their wordlessly decided challenge.

"Now then, here we go!", the instructor yelled, much to excited. "On three: One, two, three!"

-oOo-

Why Nezumi was still in No.1, he didn't know. There usually had been a pull which had made him leave a city or village, and this pull had always come after a few weeks at most. But now... he simply didn't feel it. He had the theater, the library, and he wouldn't have guessed—with his dislike for fish and anything else ocean-related—but he actually liked having the ocean only a few feet away.

Perhaps all those things were playing into it, but he knew for sure they weren't the sole reason, because he had had theaters and much bigger libraries elsewhere, and the ocean was by far big enough to reach a few other villages as well. Still, despite not knowing the reason, Nezumi didn't spend much thought on it. When he had set off from No.6 his only goal had been to let himself wander wherever his feet carried him. And since right about now they didn't carry him anywhere, he stayed. Perhaps that was the only reason he needed.

His way of living had fallen into a strange sort of routine, something he hadn't had since before he left No.6. He woke up when the sun started to rise, simply because he didn't want to sleep longer, not because he couldn't. His work-time was diverted between the library and the theater, depending on whether performances were drawing close which always resulted in his time being occupied by rehearsals—most of them he didn't need but was required to attend nonetheless.

When he had time at hand, not being occupied with work he wandered the city, tried to remember every aisle, every hidden footway, every nook. It was a habit of his earlier days, when a place to escape to, to hide in had been essential for survival. Right now though it was only a little occupation for his mind if he felt particularly restless. Or he went down to the ocean, and let himself forget there was a world outside.

-oOo-

"Good morning, Nezumi! How are you doing? I haven't seen you around here since forever. Have you been eating properly? You look awfully thin. I'll tell you what, if you buy proper food I'll give you an extra loaf of bread..", the shopkeeper greeted him with a barrage of words the moment he opened the door. She was an elderly lady, with a little roundish features, always a bright smile on her face. She had been acting overly familiar since the first time he had set foot into the store, which was five minutes walk from his current lodging.

He answered with a well-practised smile himself, the 'mask of bargaining', as he had taken on referring to it, because that was one of its most frequent uses. "I'm sorry I haven't had the time to come by, theater practise is going into its final stage.", he replied, his voice a velvety tone meant to persuade and lull in, perfectly fitted to make people do what he wanted them to do.

"Oh that's right, I saw the promo posters down by the fountain, right beside Marli's new café. Have you been there yet? She and her husband opened it about a week ago, I think, and I haven't had time to visit it; been busy around here. But she's selling ice-cream down there, which is definitely a good thing in this hellish heat." the shopkeeper babbled on, and Nezumi tuned her voice out, only smiling and nodding, agreeing whenever he felt it appropriate.

All the while he went around the shop and collected whatever items he needed. A loaf of bread, five eggs, a little piece of cheese. He'd had bacon a few days ago at a theater-sponsored dinner, so he decided to spare his money right now. A few vegetables went into his shopping bag, followed by two oranges. It was luxury, the way he led his life right now, to him anyway. It wasn't that he was downright wealthy, no, far from that, but his wage assured him a life devoid of the fear of starving. He was able to choose his food by what he wanted to buy, not by what he could afford to buy.

Still, he didn't spend his money freely, throwing it out of the window for meaningless deeds, because he knew its value beyond the numbers printed on it.

"Oh, dear, I meant to ask you: Could you reserve three tickets for your newest show? My niece is visiting and she's dead-set on seeing a play. She's written me the only theater in her city is currently being rebuild.", the shopkeeper's voice echoed into the crook he was currently standing in, studying the shelf there. He hadn't eaten pasta in a while, and was seriously contemplating fetching a package. "Sure, I'll tell the director." he yelled back over his shoulder.

"Oh, that's wonderful. She'll be head over heels for you, I already know it. She's a sweet girl, I'm sure you'll like her. She'll be staying here for a few weeks, perhaps you could test Marli's new café together."

Her attempts at setting him up could hardly be called subtle.

"I do for sure hope you'll enjoy the performance. A lot of hard work went into it.", Nezumi replied, diplomatically avoiding answering to the shopkeepers hopes of welcoming him as a future son-in-law. He could have lied and said he was looking forward to meeting the shopkeeper's niece, but it would end up in too much trouble later on when he would turn the girl down, which was inevitable. Lies were useful for dealing with people he saw sporadically, of whom he knew he'd only require their company scarcely and for a short time frame. Honesty on the other hand was meant for frequent, longer-term acquaintances. In small doses, for sure, and a half-truth was always a helpful thing, but telling a down-right lie that could be easily seen through at a certain point in time meant risking loosing the trust and thus a potential source for help or generosity. So he stuck to half-truths mostly with the shopkeeper or to skillfully talking around unpleasant question altogether, making the elderly woman forget what she had asked to begin with. He was a master with words and he knew it all to well.

Another one of his dead-set rules was to not talk about his past, of where he came from or where he was going. What the people in this city knew about him was shallow. He directed their attention elsewhere whenever the questions got too personal, dancing around the answers with well-practiced verbal moves.

In the end his interlocutor didn't even notice they hadn't been given any vital information.

"Tickets for the premiere?" he asked as he placed the bag with his shopping on the counter for the shopkeeper to calculate the price.

"Oh that'd be wonderful. During the premiere there's always such a special atmosphere, when the actors are all nervous and excited, and no one in the audience knows fully what to expect..", she told him while summing up the prices of the items in his bag. The shop wasn't a very modern one, and the cashier looked like it was from the last century. Probably it didn't only look like it.

Still, having to insert all calculation steps manually took its time and gave the woman plenty occasion to talk about all kinds of mundane things. Finally letting go of the theater topic she told him about how the prices for salad had been rocketing lately due to some shortage caused by the sudden heat, about how the fishers were really successful with their catches on the other hand. When she told him he should watch out for mice, because some had been seen around here he only barely was able to hold back a telling smirk.

No one knew these mice were his. It wasn't exactly that he hid them or anything, but he wasn't going to get any sort of advantage by showing them around, and so he didn't, it was as simple as that.

He was spared a reply when the shopkeeper announced the eventual price, and he placed the required coins in her hand. "Like promised.", she said with a blink and sneakily slid a loaf of bread across the counter, as if there could possibly be someone to overlook the exchange and chastise her for it.

"It was a genuine pleasure to do business with you.", he said with a charming, completely in-genuine smile and a bow that was much too deep to be taken serious, but the woman only laughed and replied: "The pleasure was mine. I hope there won't pass that much time till you stop by again. I was starting to get worried."

"How am I to know where the wind carries me each day?", he said over his shoulder, already half out of the door. "But I'll do my best to be a good sailor and control its uncontrollable flurries."

-oOo-

Nezumi thought about Shion more often than he liked or admited. The thoughts were like a lingering beast, always there, waiting for his slightest slip of caution, ready to spring forward and tear throbbing wounds into his heart, effectively shredding the facade he build around his feelings and letting his resolutions waver.

But he knew, from the moment he first saw Shion—no, probably even prior, probably he already knew from the moment he first heard Shion—that this beast would forever haunt him, this beast called attachment, this beast that was more deadly than any living beast could be, for it could make you loose control, loose common sense, and do reckless, stupid things.

What he hadn't expected though, was that attachment had made place to fondness and then had eventually grown into need. He needed Shion, but the beast was scaring him too much, was much too strong and dangerous for him to deal with it.

Befriend the beast, court it, lure it out, train it until it's your tame pet and you're the controlling tamer. Basically that was what he had to accomplish, the reason for this journey. It took him a long time to realize that fact. Perhaps it made him remain in the same city for such a long time that he had finally realized, had gained the knowledge of his goal.

Yeah, he knew well that the beast of need was by far not the only feeling he daren't face, and the uncertainty of lacking a goal after accomplishing the destruction of No.6, the lack of self-definition beyond all his self-confidence and arrogance, all these were factors.

But taming the beast was the first step, and the deed that was going to be the hardest to accomplish.

-oOo-

The cry of the seagulls seemed to travel faster and further than the wind across the unruly waves of the ocean. Nezumi had bound his hair back in a tight bun, but the wind always found ways to tug single streaks free, playing with them. He didn't mind.

The sun was just about to set and he sat on one of the few bigger rocks in the little bay which was hidden from the sights of the ordinary passenger using conventional, pre-set paths. It was no real beach he lingered on, the rocks weren't smashed and grounded enough to form sand, their size varying from the size of a finger nail to being big enough for Nezumi to easily sit on them.

Nezumi came here often, especially at dawn or dusk, because the whole bay, the whole world seemed different then, when day and night fought their everlasting battle, painting the sky red with their wounds, both of them winning and loosing once, returning to take revenge day after day, night after night. He had chided Shion for using flowery metaphors more than once, told him it didn't suit him, but now he found himself indulging in them occasionally as well.

That was not entirely his fault though, he tried to talk himself into, for sure it was this strange book that had fallen into his hands a little while ago, when he'd been sorting books back into their shelves at the library. The page he had flipped to had been about a girl saying that the reflection of the evening sun on a lake looked like the sun had cut open her wrists, and was now bleeding into the water.

But he didn't waste any deeper thought on metaphors, as his was much less depressing, and of a far higher quality than such a pathetic one.

Still, no matter how he described the atmosphere, it was unique and helped him think. The fresh air, the smell of salt, the hard, unforgiving wind lashing at his face—it had become some sort of anchor for him. He was skilled with words, and yet he doubted he'd be able to describe the atmosphere accurately without using flowery metaphors, and even they weren't quite enough.

Sometimes he only sat there, silent, thinking. But occasionally he sang, rivaling the wind and the waves crashing at the shore, competing with the seagulls. It was training as much as it was freedom. For as long as he could remember singing had been something he liked to keep private, to keep to himself. Back in the West Block it had been a strict rule of his to sing as little as he could on stage, and singing for Inukashi's dogs had earned him large sums of money—it was a job rather than a pleasure or a hobby. True, it was about the nicest and easiest job he could imagine, but it was a job nonetheless.

On his travel he had had to use his voice and songs on more than one occasion to ensure himself a roof, a bed and a meal.

But here, out here in the wildness, his voice was his once again. He sang songs he had never sung before, without thinking about it. If these songs were one's he had been taught in his earliest childhood, stuffed and forgotten in some part of his mind or if he was basically composing them the moment the tunes left his mouth, he didn't know. It were songs that weren't about the wind, but about the water, about the harshness and tenderness of nature, about endless skies and freedom.

Some of them sounded so old, so deep that they had to be a relict of his tribe, his long gone tribe, but others were similar to the tunes he had composed in silent hours in his underground abode, sitting at the piano, letting his fingers dance across the keys.

Tonight though he wasn't singing, he was practicing for his newest play, which was going to come into the hot-pre-premiere phase next week, meaning he probably wouldn't leave the theater for days.

"Well, God's above all; and there be souls must be saved, and there be souls must not be saved." he told the harsh nature surrounding him, pathetically gesturing with his hand towards the sun, as if it was indeed a bright, all-seeing eye, a specter taunting the world, the only spectator to his practice performance.

"For mine own part-", Nezumi's voice carried on, echoing slightly off the stony cliffs surrounding him. But he didn't hold his pathos, instead let the noise trail of, shed the skin of Cassio which he had pulled on for no longer than a few minutes. When he continued his words were mere whispers, almost fading into silence, the wind picking them directly from his lips. " For mine own part-I hope to be saved."

-oOo-

This travel had changed him. The two years had changed him. The will to change had changed him.

On the outside he was pretty much the same, at least in the way he behaved and was perceived by the people surrounding him. There was a certain honesty though he had acquired, towards other people as a strategy of self-preservation and an easy life, and towards himself as a painful but successful way of progressing and growing, of evolving. He hadn't done a 180, wasn't changed that much, and he knew he was still running away from quite some problems of his, was still hiding from himself what he didn't want to hear, but the mere knowledge and acknowledgment of the fact that he did runwas prove of his honesty towards himself.

-oOo-

"Give thy worst of thoughts the worst of words.", a voice disrupted Nezumi's thoughts. He was sitting on the edge of the stage, polishing his epee—it wasn't technically his, but the director told them they should "develop a feeling for the soul of the metal so it will heed your every command.", and thus send them home with them, making sure they spend affection on the cold stainless steel, or whatever metal it was made from. Nezumi hadn't ever been interested enough in swords and the like to find out. If they cut through flesh and assured survival that was good, further questioning was only a waste of breath and of energy which could be used to train. Not to mention that an epee didn't even closely fall into the 'cutting flesh'-section.

He couldn't deny that his current director was the most eccentric he'd ever had, but he was passionate about the plays he was directing and brought a certain intensity, an innovative way of thinking to the stage.

"I know that phrase isn't part of my text, but well, it fit. So, what's bothering you?" Jem inquired, being his usual nosy self.

"Bothering me?" Nezumi replied without even looking up, instead dragging the ripped cloth over the seemingly shining silver surface. Then he held it up a little, until the rather dim light of the theater was reflected, effectively revealing any smears left.

"Yes, bothering you. You seem even more indulged in thoughts than you usually are." Jem said, leaning down, trying to catch Nezumi's gaze.

Only with lot of self-control Nezumi refrained from testing his epee's cutting-flesh-abilities, or at least threatening with testing them. Jem had an alarmingly little knowledge about essential things like personal space or privacy at all. Then again the shop keeper and Elly seemed like they hadn't ever heard of the concept of personal space—psychological and sometimes even physical—as well, which kinda raised the likelihood of this being more of a city problem than Jem's alone.

So Nezumi stayed calm, and in the back of his mind pleasantly noticed how much easier it was than it had been right after his arrival in No.1.

He was evolving, it seemed.

"Now, don't tell me the great Nezumi is suffering from stage fright!" Jem drawled teasingly, obviously trying to produce some sort of reaction.

"Stage fright?" was the only answer he was granted with, but the slightly amused, slightly affronted tone actually told much more than any proper sentence Nezumi could have found himself willing to produce.

"Ay, stage fright. By heaven, he echoes me.", Jem intoned, one hand clenched to his chest, the other outstretched in the most ridiculous over-dramatic pose. He dropped the posture once again almost instantly though, instead continuing with a broad grin. "If it goes on like this we'll have the whole scene recited. Are you going to tell me now that you'd rather cut your tongue from your mouth than saying anything bad about Anthony, but that you've observed he's a little too familiar with my dear Elly?"

"Oh, you're reading my mind, you must be a spouse of the devil. If though hast no name to be known by, let us call thee—wine!"

Finally Nezumi gave up on the echoing, resigning himself to the fact he wouldn't be able to get rid of Jem. So he fell into the dialogue of throwing slightly changed lines of the play at each other, no matter how little sense his line had actually made. It was only meant to ridicule Jem's whole recitation after all.

"And you realize you kinda confused the scenes in your attempt of mockery.", Nezumi added as a side thought.

"Ahh, damn you're right. Well, then I guess it's good that none of the scenes is actually one I'm participating in." Jem said, and as if taking Nezumi's reply as an invitation for longer company he slumped down beside him.

"But if we're already talking about wine, you gonna join us tonight? Elly and I are gathering a few friends of ours to go out for a little nice get-together. You know, celebrating that we've survived the fencing training almost unharmed, with our crazy director." Jem said with a blink, obviously in account of the shining metal in Nezumi's hands.

"Not in the mood." was all Nezumi said, hoping against all hope Jem would let the matter slip like that. Still, that hope was going to be proven wrong, and Nezumi knew it was going to.

"Now come on, you party pooper, you're always ditching. You know, even if the world would drown in water I wouldn't take your rain check serious anymore." Jem complained, and Nezumi knew that he was only a few steps away from listening to outright whining. Apparently Jem didn't spend that much thought onto coming across like a grown man. But then again he was barely two years older than Nezumi, so 'grown man' wouldn't exactly be the words of choice when describing him either way.

"Don't start pouting now. I've still got a lot to do at home, and quite some time has passed since my last shopping-trip as well. So I've actually got things to do, beside not being in the mood." Nezumi explained, and knew his arguments carried very little strength. Avoidance technique, not always successful, but always worth a try.

Jem only let out an exasperated sigh and leaned back, steadying himself on his elbows so that he still was able to look at Nezumi. "It's a shame, but I know you're a thickhead, once a no remains a no. Nevertheless, at least promise me you won't run after the premiere! We've worked so hard for this performance, so we'll all have to celebrate just as much after getting this thing finally on stage. Got it? You'll come, and if I have to drag you, you'll be there."

It took Nezumi a moment to reply. A declination was on his lips, the accompanying electrical signal of his brain already decoded by his vocal cords into muscle-movement orders.

But he swallowed the words and really thought about it. It was one of his rules to never make promises for the future, for he wasn't able to be sure he would be there the day after. Or he hadn't been able to be sure.

While thinking, the silence prolonged, and for a much needed change even Jem was silent, as if uncharacteristically sensing that words weren't called for in this situation, only raising his eyebrows slightly in a questioning manner.

"If you'll finally stop whining, I guess it'd be much less of a hassle to waste one evening than listening to you complaining for the next weeks."

That the next day would come, that he'd live to see the next day, at the same place, under the same circumstances. Never had it occurred to Nezumi that the possibility to plan would actually be a privilege. He still didn't like to be bound, and plans always were binding; he was a free soul and freedom was one of his most ulterior motives, slumbering under his consciousness, directing his every decision.

Nonetheless, he knew that the ability to accept that he wanted to stay at a place, even if it only was for a little while, the trust that one day was followed by another day and that promises weren't necessarily always bad was one of the most important skills he had acquired on his travel.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

First of all, thanks for reading. I hope you weren't bothered too much by all those quotes. I've been listening to a absolutely awesome BBC Radio 3 production of Othello for about... 5 times in the last weeks I guess, so I simply couldn't resist quoting some of my favorite parts. But I know the context of the quotes, which is why they're making sense for me. If they didn't for you, or if I used them to excessively, or if you felt left out of the joke, didn't get a scene, god knows what, please tell me.

Second point would be the OC question. I know that I get annoyed by OC's very easily if there are too many of them and they play too much of a role. It's difficult to work with No.6 without OC's if you seperate Nezumi and Shion, because there are so very few main/important characters, and none of them can be used for Nezumi's travel.
However, if you should dislike them, or want me to use/let them appeare less, I'd see if I could work my way around it.

Last thing: I guess I didn't prove all to reliable with promises as of lately, but I can be 100% sure the next chapter won't take longer than two weeks at most. It's already half written, and while I'm not all to sure about that half for it's... experimental, so to say, I am optimistic and certain about future progress on that matter.

Hope you'll stick with me the next time!