Chapter Ten

Teabo

Shin-ju placed his hands on the quadrangle's stone floor, leaning forward in a deep leg split. It was the afternoon of July 23rd, the first formation of the Tournament Of Young Champions, and he was in one of the Training Grounds' quadrangles warming up with almost a hundred other Novices who wanted to join.

It had been over a month-and-a-half since the Priestess Lara Murakami did him the favor of providing parental coverage for his entry into the Tournament. Since then Shin-ju had made the most out of his time—studying, training, and doing odd jobs to supplement his meager savings—and had had his share of difficulties. But none of those were on his mind right now. Doing good on this Tournament would help him through the rest of the school year, and the idea of not having to worry too much about his finances anymore excited him.

He pushed himself off the ground, inhaling as he felt the muscles in his legs relax. Then he exhaled as he leaned forward to touch the ground with his forehead again, feeling the invigorating stretch.

Oh yeah, he thought. It's great to be back.

Shin-ju got back up and switched his position a little. He turned to his left, now having his left leg stretched in front of him and the right one stretched behind him. He bent down until his forehead touched his knee, then got back up again. He did this eight times.

He switched to the other side to stretch his right leg. Before he went down for the first stretch, he spied another Novice across from him on the quadrangle's other side. The young man seemed to be glancing at him.

Shin-ju found something intriguing about the Novice. He was slightly taller than the Nomad boy, and wore a red bandanna that covered the top half of his head. His long blond hair fell across the sides of his face, almost covering his intense brown eyes. There was something in the young man's expression that seemed intimidating, but what Shin-ju found more interesting was the weapons that the Novice held in his hands.

They were two 30-inch-long wooden sticks.

Could it be? Shin-ju thought, recognizing the familiar weapons.

Similarly, the young man seemed to be eyeing Shin-ju. No doubt he was intrigued by the boy's tan skin. While the Novice took a few slow practice swings with his sticks, he watched as Shin-ju finished his set of stretches and got to his feet.

The two stared at each other, with only the look of mildest surprise on their faces. It was a look that only young fighters like them recognized and understood—it was the look of spirited challenge, enough to make them forget about all the other Novices in the quadrangle and focus only on each other. It was a look that said, "I want to fight you."

It was Shin-ju who first moved. He faced the Novice, placed his arms at his sides, and bowed.

Shin-ju watched as the young man returned the gesture in a special way. He faced Shin-ju, held his two sticks upright at his sides, then crossed his right forearm over his belly as he bowed. That was when Shin-ju realized he was right about his assumptions—this Novice was a practitioner of Kali, the White Nomad Fighting Art—and he needed to know exactly who the Novice's Master was.

Some of the other armed Novices in the quadrangle took notice of the challenge, and stopped what they were doing to watch as it unfolded. Many of the watching Novices in the hallways around them also began nudging each other as Shin-ju and the young man squared off in their fighting stances, the fight about to begin.

•••

To Shin-ju's surprise, the young man attacked him first. The boy instinctively sidestepped as the first of the swings came, stunned by the awesome speed with which his opponent wielded his sticks. The Novice combined overhead smashes with thrusts and unexpected hacks that whipped in circles with mere flicks of his wrists. Almost in desperation, Shin-ju leaned back as a swing came in, planted a foot on the Novice's exposed midsection, and pushed away to create some space between them. It was enough time for Shin-ju to regroup and take the offensive.

The Nomad boy lunged at his stick-wielding opponent and threw a punch aimed at the young man's jaw. To his surprise, the Novice nonchalantly raised one of his sticks horizontally in front of him, its end burying itself painfully into Shin-ju's shoulder as his fist swung in.

Shin-ju yelped as his attack was thwarted, his fist not even coming close to its target. Before the boy could recover, his opponent swung his other stick at his face, stopping only inches away. Stunned, Shin-ju shot his eyes from the stick that could have cracked his skull to its wielder, who grinned smugly and mouthed a sound of amusement.

Fuming, Shin-ju spun on his heels and threw a turning roundhouse back-kick that swatted both the sticks aside, exposing the young man's back in recoil. In the same swift motion, Shin-ju's other leg left the ground and rose towards the back of his opponent's head in a standing roundhouse.

Another wooden sound of impact came. Shin-ju looked on in disbelief as his foot met one of the young man's wooden sticks. His opponent had reached back and placed his stick on his shoulder blade in time to thwart Shin-ju's attack once more. Again, the young man swung his other stick inwards, stopping short of breaking Shin-ju's skull wide open.

Shin-ju realized he was no match for this young man.

Shin-ju backpedaled wildly as his opponent steadily bore down on him, seemingly able to throw an attack from any angle. While hastily avoiding the barrage, Shin-ju took notice of the young man's footwork. His feet seemed to step on an imaginary grid of equilateral triangles, landing on the endpoints without fail. It was clearly different from the footwork used by Prontera Knights or Payon Warriors—it reached a flexibility and precision that rivaled even Komichi Na Ryuuki's.

As a thrust came towards his forehead, Shin-ju immediately performed a backflip, landed on all fours—and suddenly disappeared, leaving a rising cloud of dust from his original position. The young man's eyes widened as he realized that Shin-ju had reappeared behind him.

Fast! the young man thought, spinning on his heels and twirling one of his sticks into an underhand grip.

The young man crossed his two sticks in front of him, the underhanded stick vertically and the other horizontally, and braced himself to block a fierce sequence of punches and kicks from Shin-ju. As the blows came onto his sticks, he gritted his teeth as his feet skidded backwards across the ground from the force of Shin-ju's lightning-fast attacks.

As Shin-ju's jumping roundhouse came flying in, the young man ducked, spun, and swatted Shin-ju's pivot foot off-course with one of his sticks. The Nomad grunted as he moved away from his opponent in an uncontrollable somersault, his spine dangerously exposed.

With Shin-ju's form still in mid-air, the young man leaped, raised both his sticks behind him, and threw them down together, aiming at Shin-ju's back.

The sound of a padded impact came. The young man stared in incredulity—and admiration—at Shin-ju's creative defensive move. The Nomad boy had both his hands and the back of his head on the ground, with his feet in the air. Shin-ju had blocked his opponent's two sticks with the soles of his shoes.

Shin-ju then shoved himself off the ground and executed a whirlwind break-dance move, spinning his legs like propellers and kicking one of the young man's sticks out of his hands. The stick went flying into a small group of onlooking Novices, who hastily stepped aside to avoid being hit by it, then immediately turned back to the incredible battle going on before them.

Even with only one stick left in his hands, the Novice held his ground against the Nomad boy, seemingly having settled into an entirely different fighting style. Shin-ju realized, in the midst of the battle, that this unpredictable young man was one of the most difficult opponents he had ever encountered.

Lunging towards each other, Shin-ju with a rising roundhouse back-kick and the young man with an overhead smash, the battle ended in a flashy stalemate.

Looking into each other's eyes, Shin-ju and the Novice quietly showed their approval of each other. Shin-ju's heel was inches from the back of the young man's neck, and the Novice's stick was poised inches from the back of Shin-ju's head.

Shin-ju was the first to withdraw. He took a few steps back from the Novice, stood at attention, and bowed deeply. He had lost the match fair and square, and he was glad to admit it.

Similarly, the mysterious blond-haired Novice returned the bow, smirking ever so slightly as many of the Novices around them started clapping their hands and hooting. It was quite a show, and it impressed even the older Novices in the tournament.

•••

"What's gotten into you guys?" a familiar voice came from behind Shin-ju. "You want out of the Tournament, or what?"

Shin-ju turned around. It was Sean Garner, fellow Prefect and friend of Mikieru Makimachi, and he had four other Knights with him.

"Sean?" Shin-ju sputtered. "What're you doing in the Training Grounds?"

The Knight shrugged easily, placing his hand on the boy's shoulder. "It's great to see you too, Shin-ju," he wisecracked. "I guess you didn't know that I'm a part-time Combat Instructor here, and basically I'm gonna be one of the head Referees in the Tournament. I was thinking I could maybe disqualify both of you right now to make my job a little easier."

"Aw, cut it out!" Shin-ju laughed. "We were just warming up, right…?"

Shin-ju turned to the Novice he had fought against, who had just finished packing his Kali Sticks into a satchel. The young man stood up, glanced at Sean with recognition in his eyes, then turned to walk away.

"Hey," Shin-ju called after the Novice, who stopped and looked at him over his shoulder.

The Nomad boy placed his palm on his own chest.

"My name's Shin-ju," he offered.

The Novice stared at him for a moment, then he closed his eyes, nodding.

"I know," was all the young man said. Then he left, walking past the group of watching Novices towards the other end of the courtyard.

Shin-ju raised his eyebrow in dejection. The Novice didn't even give his name.

Sean chuckled, patting Shin-ju at the back. "His name is Teabo," the Knight explained to Shin-ju. "As you already know, he's a Kali practitioner… the only one I know in the Norman Realms. He's normally quiet and reserved, but you can't really blame him for that."

Shin-ju looked up at the Knight. "He seemed to know you," he commented.

"He does," Sean answered. "He was my Apprentice for about a year."

Shin-ju grinned slightly. "Really?"

"Yep. Back then he was only 13, and he was taking Komichi Na Ryuuki lessons under me. That was three years ago. After that Old Occultist uprising in Al de Baran, he became disillusioned with all sorts of swordfighting styles. He had since chosen to abandon the Katana and instead study a different fighting art—the Kali."

Shin-ju knotted his brows again. "Al de Baran?" he asked, trying to make the connection. "Did he say why he was disillusioned?"

"One can only guess," Sean sighed. "Likely it's because of his name."

Shin-ju listened intently as Sean continued.

"His full name is Teabo… Sheppard."

Shin-ju's eyes widened, shooting a glance at the young man's form walking into the crowd.

"No way," Shin-ju whispered.

"Way," Sean answered with a sigh. "Teabo is Garrione the Fallen's little brother."

Shin-ju stood still, watching Teabo's form as he slowly disappeared behind the other Novices in the courtyard.

For the rest of the day, Shin-ju wondered why Teabo left Sean's tutelage, how the Kali felt about Garrione's life and death, and whether he could've beaten Teabo if he had used the Blessing Trance in their fight.

•••

Meanwhile, three shady Novices, two male and one female, were watching the battle unfold in the courtyard from a third floor hallway. Now that the fight was over, the taller male spoke.

"Mm," he mumbled, signifying disapproval.

The female Novice sighed in disappointment.

The other male, who seemed to be their leader, crossed his arms at his chest. "Seems like he's not as good as Sir Yeary told us he'd be."

•••

"…and so Architect Angelo goes, 'What! You're asking me for an interview? Who do you think you are?' Fùck!"

Joanne giggled as she heard Ayame's story for the nth time. "That's Architect Angelo, for you."

"Yeah," Ayame fumed, fidgeting on the picnic tabletop. "I don't know how you manage to stay in his course, Joie. You must have nerves of steel."

Joanne placed her elbows on the tabletop. "Not really," she answered, her hands on her cheeks. "I can't stand him either, but I figured it would be worth it if I just got what I wanted after all this."

Ayame glanced at her friend curiously. "And what would that be?"

Joanne grinned with closed eyes. "It's a secret."

"Oh, come on," Ayame complained, stamping her feet on the bench. "You're hiding something from me! What kind of friend keeps secrets?"

Joanne rolled her eyes away from Ayame's direction, smiling. She wasn't a bad girl, but she liked being the center of attention for a change. Ever since they were kids, Ayame had always been their circle's leader, having the most stories to tell and rants to unleash. In stark contrast, Joanne was the shy, klutzy girl, who always kept her mouth shut to avoid embarrassing herself in front of other people.

"You!" Ayame prodded, pulling at Joanne's sweater sleeve. "Tell! C'mon!"

Joanne sighed and consented. She ran her fingers through her hair for composure as she began.

"There's this… boy…" she whispered with a grin.

"Oh my gosh!" Ayame giggled quietly, moving her face closer to Joanne's. "Joie's in love!"

"I'm serious!" Joanne continued, blushing. "There's this boy I like in gym class… he's really cool… he's a nice guy. He's smart, sporty, and really, really sweet. It's just that I can't think of anything I can do that he can't do better… I thought, maybe if I got my Diploma in Architecture, then he'd start noticing me… I figured if I showed him that I, little ol' Joanne Lynas, got over one of the toughest Academy majors, he'll get to like me too."

Joanne glanced at Ayame, her serene expression turning into a horrified one as she saw a smile of recognition on her friend's face.

"It's Shin-ju, isn't it," Ayame dared. The black-haired girl laughed out loud when Joanne opened her mouth to protest but her voice didn't come out in time.

"N-no!" Joanne yelped, desperately trying to hide the obvious. "It's not Shin-ju!"

"Smart, sporty, sweet?" Ayame teased, avoiding Joanne's pinches. "I think you forgot sexy…"

"IT'S NOT SHIN-JU! It's not… I…" Joanne squealed, fumbling for an excuse. "Shin-ju's not in my gym class!"

Ayame turned to Joanne. Her blond-haired friend had an 'I told you so!' look on her face, albeit a forced one.

"Oh, right," Ayame laughed. "So you're crushing on someone from gym class, then?"

"Y-yeah," Joanne lied, sighing in relief. "Besides, Shin-ju's, uh… Shin-ju's gonna be an Acolyte someday."

Ignoring Joanne's last excuse, Ayame leaned towards Joanne and whispered: "So you won't mind if I… y'know… help myself?"

Joanne's eyes widened in horror. "Wha…?" she whispered back.

"Oh, nothing," Ayame giggled, staring off into the football fields. "Even if he was gonna be an Acolyte eventually, you can't help but appreciate a guy like him, can you?"

Joanne stared up at Ayame while the Payonese girl continued.

"So young, and so mature at the same time… a tunnel-vision determination in everything he does… and he's not afraid of anything or anyone, even if the whole world raises an eyebrow at the color of his skin… I mean, how could you know a guy like that and not be turned on?"

Joanne frowned nervously. "He… he turns you on?" she stuttered.

Ayame gave her a toothy grin. "Well, can I help it if he's such a knockout on top of all that?"

Joanne looked away, her cheeks red. She had wanted to be the center of attention, but she very nearly gave her secret away. And now, knowing that Ayame really did have a crush on Shin-ju too, she felt very uneasy.

"Well, anyway, going back to your mystery guy," Ayame exhaled, stretching genially. "So you really like him?"

"Uh… who?" Joanne replied absently.

Ayame laughed. "Hey, Midgard to Joie!" she teased, waving her hand in front of her blonde-haired friend's face. "I'm asking if you want your dreamboat from gym class!"

"Oh, uh… yeah," Joanne replied, grinning sheepishly. "Sure, I… I guess…"

"Well, step to it, girl!" Ayame told her with a smile. "Tell him you like him! Ask him to hang out with you! Maybe the two of you could even play a few games of WordTwist to break the ice!"

Joanne felt like falling over when Ayame suggested exactly what she was planning all along for Shin-ju. "Uh, great idea…" she muttered.

"You gotta get going pretty soon, Joie," Ayame warned her. "You never know when some other hot chick comes in and takes him away from you. That, or the Church, as it happened with Shin-ju…"

Or both, Joanne thought disconsolately, her head spinning as she remembered Shin-ju's fondness for Lara Murakami, the Priestess.

"Anyway," Ayame said, getting up. "I'll be leaving you for a while to think on how you'll sweep your boy off his feet. I'll be right back."

Joanne looked up rather weakly. "Where are you going?" she asked.

"Bathroom," Ayame answered. "And I'm gonna get something for Shin-ju to eat when he comes by later. He'll probably want his usual burger and fries… I'll have some mac-and-cheese… what're you having?"

Joanne nodded, placing her hands on the table and leaning her head on her forearms. "Uh…" she answered disinterestedly, closing her eyes. "…corndog. Extra mayo."

Ayame smiled, shaking her head as she scooped up her schoolbag from the picnic tabletop. "My girl's growing up," she teased as she jumped off the bench. Joanne feebly opened her eyes to see what Ayame meant by that, but she was too disoriented by their conversation to recognize the innuendo until several moments later.

•••

Joanne sat alone at the picnic table, her eyes closed as though asleep. She listened to the sounds of Novices playing football in the fields behind her, and the calming breeze blowing through the trees. She sniffed the scent of pine and the woody tang of the picnic table. She thought of her feelings for Shin-ju and how Ayame instantly almost figured her out.

She managed to escape with a lie. She realized that while she saved herself from embarrassment, she also kept Ayame from knowing how she really felt towards Shin-ju. Instead, she unwittingly even made Ayame mention her own feelings towards the Nomad boy – and instead of feeling better by opening up, it only made Joanne feel worse.

All of a sudden, she felt the compelling need to munch on something. Without opening her eyes, she wished that Ayame would come back with her corndog soon. As soon as she heard the familiar "plop" of a schoolbag landing on the tabletop, one of her arms shot out, palm up in a receiving gesture.

"Give," she drawled sleepily, her head still on her forearm.

When the corndog didn't get into her palm quickly enough, she flicked her fingers inward impatiently.

"Now," she insisted.

Sure enough, something warm slipped into her hand. But it didn't feel like the cardboard corndog container that she was expecting. In fact, it felt like it had… fingers.

Joanne opened her eyes and moved her head to look across the table – straight into the wondering gray stare of Shin-ju Yang.

"Yaaah!" Joanne screamed as she sat bolt upright, instantly letting go of the boy's hand. "Shin-ju!"

"Whoa, Joie," Shin-ju greeted, laughing uneasily. "Sorry I scared you, I… I didn't know what you were asking for."

"N-no! Sorry, I…" Joanne stammered, flushed. "I thought you were Ayame."

"Oh, okay. No wonder," Shin-ju laughed, moving around the table to sit beside Joanne. "Where is she, by the way? How come you're alone?"

"U-uh," the girl stuttered, tensing up at having Shin-ju sitting beside her. "…bedroom."

Shin-ju paused, then looked at her quizzically. "What?"

Catching herself, Joanne interjected quickly. "I mean bathroom!" she said, giggling nervously. "Gosh, I… I must be really sleepy, huh?"

Shin-ju gave Joanne an uneasy smile, wondering why she was a little extra quirky today. "Hey, take it easy, okay?" he said, patting the girl on the shoulder. Then he reached into his schoolbag to draw out a small towel. While he wasn't looking, Joanne turned away, cringed, and slapped herself on the forehead with the base of her palm. She was still bad with boys, but she was getting really good with lies.

Ayame returned to their table soon after, and the three friends spent the rest of the afternoon eating, talking, and laughing with each other. Joanne realized that she could have missed yet another opportunity to be honest with Shin-ju, but at the same time wondered whether it was enough for her for things to remain as it was… Just being friends with both Ayame and Shin-ju, and not risking the breakup of their happy little group by doing something stupid like confessing her love for Shin-ju.

•••

The setting sun cast orange bands of light through the dense tree canopy as Shin-ju and Ayame walked on an unpaved path towards the girl's dormitory house. They had just dropped Joanne off at her own dormitory house. Summer was slowly ending, and the days were getting shorter, so the two friends decided to take a shortcut through the woods so Shin-ju could get home before it got too dark.

It was Friday, and the two friends were tired. The week had been particularly fatiguing for them, having to prepare for their exams and struggling to finish the layouts for the Visor's next issue in time.

Ayame trodded slightly ahead of Shin-ju, her hands clasped behind her head and face turned towards the treetops. Her feet fell lightly on the leaf-covered earth, making a rustling sound that was both calming and dreamy. Shin-ju walked behind her, eyeing the carefree young girl with a mild curiosity.

Just then the girl looked behind her, just in time to see Shin-ju turn his eyes in another direction. Ayame smiled and stopped pacing, twisting her upper body to face the boy completely.

Shin-ju returned his gaze at Ayame and smiled back. Ayame was dressed in her usual preference of tight-fitting clothes, with her only protection against the dusk draft being a light scarf twirled around her neck, covering her shoulders but failing to hide her shirt's drooping neckline. And here she was, her back arched, her hands behind her head, her chest sensually presented in the boy's direction – and there was no one else around them.

"You were staring at me," Ayame said quietly.

Shin-ju nodded, shrugging guiltily. "Yeah, I was."

Ayame smiled sweetly, her Payonese eyes narrowing into twinkling, arched slits. "What's the matter?" she teased, taking a step towards the boy. "Saw something you liked?"

Shin-ju smiled sleepily, extending an arm in Ayame's direction. "Yeah, you must be cold," he said, his fingers brushing through the girl's hair as she came closer. "C'mere."

Ayame's hands left the back of her head and wrapped around the boy's torso as she leaned her head sleepily on his chest. His arm wrapped around her shoulders and pressed her closer in a one-armed embrace.

"Mm," Ayame groaned, her face buried in the folds of Shin-ju's sweater. "This feels so weird."

"I know," Shin-ju laughed slightly, feeling the girl's hair on his cheek. "But doesn't it feel… I dunno… justified?"

"Wow, we feel the same way," she answered dreamily.

The two friends stood there for a few moments, their arms around each other, basking in the comfort – and the guilty indulgence – of an embrace that they knew was forbidden by Shin-ju's path to Acolytehood. The boy knew that if they were anywhere else, they would've been seen – and immediately throw his credibility as an aspiring Acolyte into suspicion. But here, amidst the calming solitude and the tall, whispering evergreens, away from the cares of the world, they could be themselves – even for just a moment.

Ayame laughed after a moment, lifting her face from Shin-ju's chest and rubbing her sleepy eyes. "I feel so guilty," she said.

Shin-ju laughed back, his arm still around Ayame's shoulders as they resumed their walk through the beaten, tree-lined path to her dormitory. "I know," he agreed. "Me too."

"No, it's not that," Ayame said, brushing off Shin-ju's implication about Acolytehood. "It's just that Joie and I had a little talk this afternoon, before you came back from your Tournament formation."

"Really?" Shin-ju ventured.

"Yeah. I dunno if I should be telling you this, but… Joie's in love."

It took a while for Shin-ju to recover from the surprise. "Wow," he uttered, impressed.

"Yeah, and it's a funny thing, too, 'cause the way she described the guy? I guessed it to be you, straight away."

"Me?" Shin-ju spat.

"Yeah!" Ayame replied, now laughing heartily. "But then it turned out it wasn't you. Joie's boy is someone from her gym class. And she told me he was the reason why she was sticking to Architecture. Couldja believe it? She's trying to crack one of the Academy's toughest majors just to impress the guy she loves."

"Oh," he said, nodding as it all sank in. "Well, that explains why she's not shifting. But wow, to impress her so much, this guy from her gym class sounds like a real champion."

"Yeah, but you know what? I still think Joie's boy – I think I'll refer to him as Joie's boy from now on – he still comes off to me as you." Ayame looked up at Shin-ju with a toothy grin. "Maybe that's why I felt guilty just now."

Shin-ju smiled back, closing his eyes momentarily in a flattered gesture. "Gosh, I'd sure hate to pull the two of you apart," he said. "I happen to like you guys too much to see that happen."

Ayame's smile faded, replaced by an inquisitive stare. "Well, that's a vindication I wasn't expecting," she commented. "What I was expecting you to say was something like, 'Nah, that won't happen, I'm gonna be an Acolyte someday, Hakuna Matata…' What gives, Shin-ju?"

Shin-ju smiled, staring off into the distance. "Well, it's really not that simple," he said.

Ayame felt Shin-ju's hand squeeze her arm gently as he explained.

"Sure, both of my superiors want to see me grow up to be a Cleric like them someday," Shin-ju said. "But I don't think I'm one bit similar to either of them. I didn't know I was gonna be a Cleric one day like they probably did. I didn't know I had to be so strong to even try to join the Priesthood. And right now…" Shin-ju paused, sighing uncertainly. "…Right now, I don't know if I have what it takes to face the sacrifices of getting my silver cross."

Ayame bit her lip. Shin-ju's concessions unnerved her to a slight extent. It took her a moment to put her thoughts into words.

"It's… it's not like you to be so unsure of things, Shin-ju," Ayame said, looking at his face. "But… honestly? I'd like to thank you for being so honest to me, and… and it's really nice to hear you say those things."

She watched as he turned his empty gray stare into her eyes. She needed no other words from him after that – the smile on his face assured her that he felt the same way as she did.

•••

All of a sudden, the smile disappeared from Shin-ju's face. His eyes stared off into the ground past Ayame's face, his lips parted slightly, and his eyebrows furrowed in deep concentration – he had sensed that something wasn't right in their surroundings. The solitude was gone.

A look of worry crept onto Ayame's face. "Shin-ju?" she asked. "What's wrong?"

Slowly, Shin-ju dropped his arm from around Ayame's shoulders and turned around. His eyes moved from her face to a pine tree that they had passed only moments before.

A girl with wavy red hair, roughly their age, stood under the tree, watching Shin-ju's actions with an impressed amusement. She stepped out from under the tree and approached Shin-ju with a smile.

"The instincts of a great warrior," the girl intoned, stopping a few steps from Shin-ju and Ayame. "I can see that you are expectedly versed in the ways of the Shadow Arts."

Shin-ju shook his head at the leather armor-clad newcomer. "Who are you, and what—"

The boy stopped as he recognized the posture that the girl assumed – hands at the navel, one hand clasping the wrist of the other.

"Wait a minute," Shin-ju said, raising a hand to point at the girl. "You were the girl at the Dunewear tent."

A puzzled Ayame looked back and forth between Shin-ju and the girl in front of them.

"Yes," the girl answered. "My name is Zeta Spires. And as I have told you before, we are Apprentices of the Shadow Arts scholastic, Balthesar Yeary."

Shin-ju turned his head slightly. "We?" he repeated.

"Yes," the girl concurred, motioning with her chin to Shin-ju's side. "The one beside you is Arakawa…"

Shocked, Shin-ju spun to his left, coming face to face with a young man in black who was over six feet tall. The tall youth seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. Arakawa stared at him from over his shoulder with piercing blue eyes. His lanky arms hung at his sides, his hands covered by long sleeves that billowed in the breeze. He did not nod, blink, or in any way greet Shin-ju, but maintained the cold stare-down with the stunned Nomad boy. His long, straight gray hair, which reached down towards his shoulder blades, gave the young man a foreign, menacing visage that unsettled even Shin-ju.

Zeta continued her introductions cryptically. "…and the one behind you is…"

"Kyle," Ayame's scared voice came from behind Shin-ju.

Instantly, Shin-ju spun to face Ayame – only to face the back of yet another black-clad newcomer, seemingly having materialized from thin air. This one had leather armor lined with metal that indicated his leadership over the group. He had spiky red hair and stood with his hands crossed at his chest – but he wasn't looking at Shin-ju.

He was standing between Shin-ju and Ayame – and he was staring down at her.

"Why, yes," Zeta commented, somewhat surprised that Ayame had recognized her leader. "Kyle Cromwell, our leader."

There were a few tense moments before Kyle took his eyes off Ayame's fearful face, looked over his shoulder, and shot his fiery almond-brown stare into Shin-ju's gray eyes.

•••

End of Chapter Ten