Well! It's certainly been a while, hasn't it? I've actually had this chapter written for a while, but I couldn't seem to find the motivation to proofread and post it. I'm still very invested in this fic and plan to finish it though, so don't worry. Nothing too exciting happens in this chapter, although Gala does finally show some thoughts and concern for the other people in his life. About time, Gala. :(

Thanks to Barako for BETA'ing, once again! ^_^ Also, please R&R! I miss those! XD

Chapter 13

Gala awoke late in the morning the next day. The moment he managed to force his lids open, he realized just how heavily they'd been shut. His head ached too, almost like he'd been the one who'd downed an entire bottle of alcohol the previous night.

Groaning, he forced himself up from the bed, making a mental note as he did so never to sleep in unchanged, outdoor clothing again. Or to go an entire day without eating. He hadn't really noticed how hungry he'd been when he'd gone out shopping for clothes, or when he'd returned home. Granted he'd had a lot on his mind then, but still. Didn't he now?

Songi...

Gala wondered if he was up yet. He wasn't the heaviest sleeper, nor did he usually sleep in for too long after drinking. All the more annoying...

Without really realizing it, Gala was making a deadline for the house's small bathroom. He hadn't had anything to drink the previous day besides a glass of water, but it was a known fact that one usually had a full bladder right after waking up, no matter what the circumstances.

Gala didn't know what he'd been expecting as far as Songi went, but he certainly hadn't been expecting to practically walk right into him in the bathroom doorway, much less see him soaking wet, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist.

Gala often forgot just how long Songi's hair was. When it wasn't sticking up, it came a little past his shoulders in length. Of course, most of the time, he kept it spiked up with candle wax, oil or whatever else he could find. Gala's hair was much shorter, spiked up because of the style it was cut rather than by any artificial means. The ways of Biron didn't usually encourage students to go about with unshaved heads, but Master Zopu was somewhat lax on the matter. When the two orphans had first been brought to the monastery, Zopu had allowed them to thin and raise their hair instead of cutting most of it off. Maybe he'd understood that forcing them to do so would've been asking them to leave a good deal of their identities behind.

Gala didn't really like seeing Songi's hair un-spiked, mostly because it reminded him of how he'd looked when they'd first met, back on that... terrible day. Besides, he was so accustomed to seeing him with hair that looked like it'd never seen a comb in its life, it was kind of weird to see him any other way.

Songi, upon almost crashing into Gala, stepped back, grunting slightly in annoyance. His eyes had small, faint bags under them, but other than that he looked fairly normal. He was certainly well enough to think it was acceptable to walk out of a bath without properly drying himself, tracking water all over the house. Gala didn't like to point this out though, mostly because he was turning enough into Maya as it was.

Notably, the skin around Songi's eye was still red and sore-looking, as was the mark on his cheek. His right arm, which Gala hadn't seen uncovered for several days, was bruised almost from wrist-to-elbow, showing where the Sim Ra-Seru had cut and pressed into his flesh. Gala hadn't paid much attention to it before, probably because Songi had had so many other wounds to worry about, but the sight was truly ghastly. And that had been among some of the least damage the cursed thing had done.

On a brighter note, most of the wounds Songi had received in their fight in the Seru-kai were faded or mostly so - except, of course, the big one around his torso. Zalan had done a good job patching it up, but even so, the stitches stuck out alarmingly against Songi's pale skin. The gash under them was so big and deep, it would be a miracle if it ever faded completely.

Gala started. Where had the bandages gone?

"You should be more careful next time, idiot," Songi said moodily, ignoring Gala's stare. "You're not the only one who needs this room, you know. But hey, I was gonna ask, where're those clothes you bought yesterday? I need some."

"Wh-Why're you..." Gala stammered. "Songi, did you have a bath?!"

He already knew the answer. Why else would Songi be soaking wet? But his mind didn't seem interested in forming intelligent questions right then. It didn't help that it was still quite thick with sleep.

"No," Songi said, the tone of his voice indicating just how stupid Gala's question was. "I just thought I'd get undressed for the hell of it."

"What happened to the bandages?" Gala asked.

He had to make a real effort not to start shouting. The wound around Songi's torso was definitely healing well, but it still wasn't a pleasant sight. The stitches Zalan had made around the gash to hold the skin in place looked alarmingly fragile. One got the impression by looking at them that even slightly flexing the muscles around the stitches would cause several to snap. They were undoubtedly a lot stronger than they looked, or else they would've broken long ago, but looking at them made Gala's stomach turn.

"Relax," Songi said. "I took the bandages off before I got into the water. I don't really need them anymore anyway. The skin's healing just fine."

This was true enough, and it probably was better not to wear fabric while taking a bath. But the sight of the stitches was still unnerving. Not that Gala would ever tell Songi this. Knowing him, he'd walk around without a shirt all day if he knew how much it would bother the brunet.

"I wish you wouldn't do things like that," Gala settled for saying at last, forcing his eyes back up to Songi's face. Seeing his long, soaking hair wasn't much better, but it was at least nicer than the alternative.

"What else was I supposed to do?" Songi said defensively. "If I'd gone any longer without a bath, I probably would've been eaten alive by bugs or something."

"You could've just used the washing basin like we did at Zalan's. There was no reason to-"

"Okay, fine," Songi interrupted. "You're not gonna help me find the clothes. I'll get them myself."

Gala sighed. He didn't know if this was an unsubtle attempt to get him to fetch Songi's clothes for him, or just Songi being his usual, sulky self. Whatever the case, Gala certainly didn't want him walking all over the house when he was still dripping.

"No," Gala said, already turning away. "I'll get some. Hold on."

He walked over to the sofa he'd dumped the clothes on the previous night, scooped up a blue shirt, black vest and brown pants and undergarments, and returned to the bathroom-area. He held out the bundle of clothing to Songi, resisting the urge to throw it at him.

"Hopefully they'll fit you. I know we've both grown a bit since... everything," Gala said.

Songi took the clothes in both his water-soaked hands, purposely grabbing them by the edges closest to him and farthest away from his companion. It seemed he was as reluctant to make direct physical contact as Gala.

"They should work," he said, after a quick, careless glance at the clothing. Gala knew this was as close to a word of thanks as he was going to get.

Though he was still by no means completely dry, Songi pulled on the shirt and vest without hesitation. Despite his lingering tiredness, Gala almost got to urge to laugh. He had forgotten just how lazy this guy could be. This urge melted away immediately after though, as Songi began unceremoniously unwrapping the towel from around his waist.

Before he could see anything else, Gala hastily turned away and stared at the opposite wall, inwardly cursing himself for not moving further away. Behind him, he heard Songi give a low chuckle of amusement.

"You're such a prude, Gala. Really, it's nothing you've never seen before."

"Sh-Shut up."

Gala was blushing hard. He'd never liked seeing other people, even his fellow monks, naked. Even though, as Songi pointed out, it wasn't a big deal. Back at the monastery, some of the less mature monks, Songi included, had often joked about how difficult it would be for Gala to find a wife if the Mist ever cleared, considering how reserved he was.

And they were probably right. Gala recalled a particularly uncomfortable incident which had occurred about three days after he had first joined Vahn and Noa, back when they'd all been virtual strangers. It had been a rather hot, muggy day, and they'd just found a small pond in the middle of a grove. Noa, after letting out a cry of delight, had stripped down to her underwear, paying no attention to her companions' gasps of shock, before jumping head-first into the water.

"Come on in, you guys!" she'd trilled, surfacing and splashing around like a drowning bird. "The water's great!"

The memory still haunted Gala somewhat, and the heated argument that had followed afterwards hadn't been very pleasant either. He'd never been called 'mean' so much in one conversation before.

After a few moments, Songi walked out in front of Gala, thankfully fully clothed. The younger man was grateful not to have to look at his damaged torso anymore - or any of the bare skin around there, for that matter - but he wished Songi would do something about his hair.

"They fit good enough," Songi said. Most other people probably would've stuck a 'thank you' in there somewhere. Gala scowled.

"Well enough," he corrected him, again reminding himself forcefully of Maya. Surprisingly, Songi ignored this. Usually having his grammar picked at was a sure-fire way to get him worked up.

"And you know I hate the color blue, so thanks," he said instead, flicking disdainfully at the shirt's fabric.

"Any time. Are you hung over?"

Songi looked annoyed, most likely because he'd wanted the previous night forgotten. But Gala wasn't going to make it that easy for him.

"I don't get hangovers, remember?" Songi said.

"Yeah, it's a shame," Gala said. "You might've been less tempted to get drunk last night if you did."

"Oh, shut up. I told you I didn't mean for it to happen. I just wanted to have a couple of drinks to," - 'I wanted... to forget.' - "you know," - 'Everything... Everything I did, my dad, Juggernaut, Cort, you...' - "help me relax."

Gala hesitated. Songi likely didn't remember what he'd said right before he'd passed out, any more than he remembered what he'd said while under the influence of the Jigul grass. And it would definitely be better if it stayed that way.

"Well, you were certainly relaxed," Gala said at last. "Anyway, get out of here. I need to..."

His cheeks reddened again, and he gestured vaguely at the bathroom. It would've been nice if it was separated from the main room by a door, or even a curtain, like the ones in the monastery, but it wasn't. Songi grinned.

"Prude," he said again, but obediently walked away, presumably towards the kitchen-area.

Gala went into the small alcove and relieved himself, splashing his hands into the washing tub afterwards. Songi, in his typical fashion, hadn't bothered to fill his bath very much. At the most, it was only three or four bucket-fulls high, and probably only one of those had been heated; the water was lukewarm at best.

Gala briefly considered getting into the tub himself and washing up properly, but the idea of doing that in a doorless room with Songi so close by wasn't very appealing. Instead, he just pulled off his upper clothing, splashed his face and chest briefly with water, and went back into the living room. He picked out a new shirt from the pile on the sofa and threw it on, then walked over to the kitchened part of the house, where, sure enough, he found Songi.

The man was leaning against a wall, inattentively watching over a pan of steak on the cooking fire. Predictably, he was only making enough for one, even though it wouldn't have been much trouble to put on an extra one for his companion. Gala was used to this.

Songi didn't look up straight away, although he must've heard Gala coming. He was using one hand to re-spike his hair with cooking oil and the other to eat a honey cake. Gala held back a sigh with difficulty. Honestly, if Songi hadn't been raised on such a strict exercise and workout regime for the last ten years, most of his muscle almost certainly would've been fat.

Gala was at least relieved that Songi was attending to his hair. When he thought about it, he supposed he was lucky Songi still did it. After all, there wasn't really a need for it now, and hadn't been since he'd abandoned the monastery. Gala guessed that the routine was likely such a big part of Songi's style now, it was just habit.

Songi was silent for a minute or two as he continued rubbing the oil over his head. Fixing his hair was one of the few things he seemed to put genuine concentration and attention into. Although, it was strange that he even bothered to wash his hair in the first place, considering he just soaked it with chemicals straight afterwards. When he was finally done, Songi looked up at Gala, and his mouth curved into a mocking smile. Gala wasn't sure what he'd done to deserve this and felt defensive.

"If you're going to get drunk again, it'd be nice if you at least passed out in your own room. You're heavy," he said. Was he trying to invoke some sort of reaction, or just release some of his frustration? Either way, he knew it wasn't very mature or advisable. Hadn't he been trying to prevent fights with this person?

"Whatever," Songi said, still smirking.

"And don't even get me started on..." Gala began, then broke off. He'd been going to bring up the mess Songi had made on the floor last night, but then he remembered he hadn't even cleaned it up. He'd forgotten all about it.

He looked over to the area near the sofa, where he was fairly sure Songi had delivered. There was nothing there. Gala felt uneasy and wondered if he'd remembered the place wrong. Admittedly, he had been pretty occupied at the time, but it certainly wasn't going to be very fun to go searching for it.

"Yeah, yeah," he heard Songi say. Gala turned back to him and saw he was no longer smiling. "I got rid of it already, so save me your bitching."

Gala was stunned. It was very unlike Songi to do any kind of chore unless he was pretty much forced into it. It had always been like that at the monastery. It could've just been that the smell of the vomit had been bothering him, but Gala had the feeling Songi had been more bothered by the idea that he might lecture him. Whatever the case, Gala supposed the older man had earned the right not to have the subject brought up.

"Where'd you put it?" Gala asked after a moment.

"Outside. I threw it over some plants."

"Lucky plants."

"Hey," Songi said suddenly, his eyes on his cooking steak, "can I go out today?"

Gala stiffened.

"Where?" he said sharply.

"What are you, Maya?" Songi said, then stopped. He seemed to realize immediately that he shouldn't have said this. "Just out," he said, before Gala could say anything. "I don't like being inside if I can help it. You know that. And no, I won't run away. I know you were serious yesterday."

Gala was reluctant. The idea of Songi out on the streets again, even if he knew where he was, was very discomforting. On the other hand, he couldn't in good conscience keep Songi prisoner for the rest of his life, especially when the two of them had spent most of their teenager years cooped up inside all the time.

"You won't get into any more fights?" Gala asked. "I don't want you drawing attention to yourself, Songi."

"You're no fun."

"Songi!" Gala almost shouted. Songi looked exasperated.

"I'm joking! Geez, get a sense of humor already."

Gala felt himself relenting, as much as he didn't want to. If he refused Songi's request - because, to his credit, it had at least been a request - he knew this day would not be very fun. Besides, they could definitely both use some time away from each other.

"Be back before dark, all right?" Gala said. "And don't leave town."

"Fine, whatever," Songi said. The tone of his voice made it sound like Gala had just told him to do something very unreasonable.

Quickly, as though worried the brunet would change his mind, Songi scooped up the steak in a small, ragged piece of cloth, strode past Gala without looking at him, and walked towards the front door. Stopping only to step into his boots, Songi pulled open the door and disappeared into the late morning sunlight. The door slammed behind him, leaving a heavy silence in its wake.

Wearily, Gala extinguished the cooking fire that Songi had abandoned and closed his eyes. Now that he was actually awake, and alone, he had the opportunity to think. Before, when he'd been staying with Zalan and Pepe, he'd been either too tired, too busy worrying about Songi, or too busy doing everything he could to help out his hosts to think.

Now that he was actually free to let his mind wander properly, the first thing Gala thought about was Vahn and Noa. He hadn't even said a proper goodbye to Vahn, even though he didn't know how long it would be before he could see him again. And Noa... She must've been having a tough time. Sure, she had Cara and Grantes to help her, but Gala knew, even without any experience on the matter, that taking care of a newborn baby was no picnic. And Noa was still only a child herself. Her travels with Vahn, Gala and their Ra-Seru had taught her a lot, but even so, she was still quite naive for a girl her age. Her naivety and innocence was something Gala and Vahn had learned to like, but Noa could be very frustrating for people who didn't know her as well, and who didn't take the time to know her.

Gala knew he'd told Noa to let him know if she needed anything, but he wondered deep down if she would follow up on this. If she thought it would bother him, she'd likely prefer to keep her problems away from him. For a moment, Gala considered taking a Door of Wind to Buma and going to visit her. Songi was out, after all, so what would be the harm? He very nearly followed up on this, but at the last minute, he decided against it. If he went to visit Noa now, he'd probably just worry her more. At the very least, he should wait until things between him and Songi had settled down a little. What he did do though, was take out a pencil and roll of parchment he'd bought while out the previous day, tear it in half and scrawl a quick message to Maya and Zopu on each piece.

In truth, he was disgusted with himself for not doing this sooner, especially when he thought of how worried Maya had been about Songi. He hadn't forgotten about her or Zopu, not even when his mind had been mostly occupied with his new roommate. The real reason he hadn't written to either of them yet was because he'd had no idea what to say. He still didn't, but he knew avoiding the task any longer would be unfair to both of them. They had as much right to know what was going on as he did.

He doubted anyone else would care much what Songi was up to. The guy had never been particularly good at making or keeping friends. There had been a small group of monks at the monastery he'd gotten along decently with, particularly after he and Gala had grown apart. These, appropriately enough, had been among the more immature, lower-ranking warriors there. Songi naturally liked being around anyone childish enough to appreciate his humor; especially if they were much weaker than him and so had little chance of surpassing him, as Gala had. The only monk Songi hadn't hated that Gala really liked had been Riku, but he had been one of the first victims of Songi's treachery.

As Gala - and Songi - well knew, many people in the monastery had lost friends and family in the attack, and the chances that any of them would want to see Songi alive after this, much less resume a friendship with him, were virtually non-existent. They might even resent Gala for continuing to associate with him.

Sighing, Gala touched his pencil to the first piece of parchment and began to write.

Dear Maya,

I'm sorry I didn't write to you earlier, but a lot has been going on. Don't worry - Songi is fine. He was pretty badly wounded, but Zalan was able to fix him. I can't be absolutely sure, but I think that Sim-Seru's influence has completely disappeared. Songi is just about himself again. We're living together in Jeremi for now, and I'm trying to get along with him.

Gala paused, his pencil hovering over the paper. For a moment, he'd almost been about to tell Maya about all the anxiety Songi was causing him, and how it worried him that he couldn't seem to stop thinking about him, even for a second. But he stopped himself at the last minute. Maya didn't need to be troubled with such things.

I'll write to you again in a few days and let you know how things are going. Please, don't worry about us. I look forward to seeing you again soon.

Sincerely, Gala

It would've been nice if he could've said he and Songi wanted to see Maya again, but that would've been a flat-out lie right then. Of course, if Songi didn't change his mind about that soon, Gala would have to step in himself somehow. Maya didn't want to cast him away any more than Gala did, so not convincing Songi to see her again sometime would really hurt her. Gala wasn't going to allow that. Maya had been hurt enough as it was.

His message to Zopu was surprisingly easier to write than his one to Maya. Usually he'd found Maya much easier to talk to than his teacher. Maybe it was easier now because Gala saw no reason to soften his words to protect Zopu's feelings. He knew this kind of thing wouldn't upset him. In all the time he'd known him, Gala had only ever seen the old man cry once, and that had been when he'd related the tale about Songi attacking the monastery.

Dear Master Zopu,

I'm sorry I didn't write to you earlier, but a lot has been going on. I'm sure Maya or Tetsu wrote to you already, but we managed to stop Cort and his followers, and Songi seems to be himself again. I can't be completely sure, but from what I can tell, he's very sorry about everything he did. I know that doesn't make it all right, and I'll never forgive him for what he did any more than you will. He did a very stupid thing, and it got a lot of people killed. But I'm not sure what we can do about that. I don't want him to be imprisoned or executed, but I don't want to let him go until I'm absolutely sure the influence of the Sim-Seru is gone. I've learned that I can't be too careful about things like this. I suppose when I'm sure he's fine, I'll just let him go, and none of us will probably ever see him again.

Gala stopped writing again, this time because of a sudden, painful lurch around his chest. The lurch had appeared without warning, and he knew what had caused it.

"...But you were... you were my best friend. I don't want to cut you out of my life."

Gala's own words, spoken under that arch to Songi not that long ago. And he'd meant them too. Hadn't the whole reason he'd agreed to travel with Vahn and Noa in the first place, to partner up with a Ra-Seru of his own, been to save Songi?

Ozma...

Gala half-wished he could've written a letter to him as well. Not that he would ever need to, since the two had always been together, able to communicate to each other with their minds alone. But he wasn't ever going to see Ozma again. He'd accepted that fact almost immediately after it had happened, in sharp contrast to Vahn and Noa - especially Noa.

After what had happened to his parents, Gala never would've believed he would have been capable of becoming friends with any Seru, even a Ra-Seru. But he had, he was sure of it. Maybe he'd never become as close to the creature as the two other heroes had to theirs, but Gala had still cared for him. Even now, there were times when he caught himself about to try to talk to Ozma, who had once been such a big part of him. Gala felt a dull pain in his stomach whenever he remembered the Ra-Seru - yet another pain he could attribute directly to Songi, since it was because of him that there were no more Seru now - but it wasn't an unbearable pain, like the pain he'd felt when his parents had died, or when Songi had...

Catching himself before he could let his thoughts wander too much, Gala hurriedly finished off his letter to Master Zopu in the same way he had Maya's, then folded up both pieces of the torn parchment and walked with them out of the house.

He'd noticed a post office in the town on his trip out yesterday, which he headed straight for. The building was small, unorganized and hadn't been running for that long. It hadn't been there when Vahn, Noa and Gala had first come to the town. There hadn't been much use for messages carried by man, horse or carrier pigeon in the days of the Mist; the vile fog had ensured that no living creature would get far once they left the safety of a village.

Many people were already awake and about in the late morning. Most noticed and waved enthusiastically at Gala as they passed, and Gala did his best to return their greetings with equal enthusiasm. He'd met with exactly the same kinds of things yesterday, and even in the days before all of Legaia had been saved from the Mist, he and his companions had often been treated as heroes.

The worst thing that could happen, Gala realized, as he waved good-naturedly back at a group of kids who were practically fainting with excitement at the sight of him, was Songi somehow seeing this. Aside from creating only more hostility between them, Gala knew the red-head's resulting taunts and jealous insults would make him angry as well.

Before long, Gala reached the post office. He was greeted there, as with most other places he went, with admiration and near-worship. At first the workers insisted that the delivery of any letters, regardless of how many or how far, be entirely at their expense. Again, Gala was used to this. He'd met with the same problem almost everywhere he'd gone yesterday. As with then, he argued back and eventually succeeded in convincing the laborers to take his money. He had a lot of it, after all.

As he'd expected, the most costly of the three modes of delivery was the one that used the carrier pigeons. They were scarce and difficult to train, so it was no wonder. But Gala happily paid full price, especially since the letters were going to the same place and so only required one pigeon. He probably should've written to Vahn and Noa as well, but he was even less sure of what he should write to them than he had been with Maya and Zopu. He resolved instead to visit them in a few days, if Songi stayed trustworthy in that time. Although, what he would say to them about his new roommate when he saw them, he couldn't even begin to imagine.

This done, he returned home. Or, it was hard to think of his and Songi's new house as a 'home,' but he supposed that was what it was now. For how long, he didn't know. For how long he wanted it to be, he had even less idea. Even though he'd just woken up and the walk from and to the house hadn't been long, Gala felt utterly drained the moment he walked through the front door. If this kept up, he'd feel like he was fifty years old by the time he reached twenty-five.

Tee-hee. I will admit that I had a lot of fun with the Gala and Songi interactions, but when don't I? ;D I know this chapter was fairly uneventful, but I guess you have to have some parts where nothing much happens. It helps with the pacing, I think. ^^ I actually have quite a few chapters in reserve, because I've still been writing. I've just been really lazy about proofreading and posting, as I said. So, the next few chapters, at least, should come fast and soon. :)