Well, here's chapter 14, much quicker than chapter 13 - yay! ^_^ This chapter is quite short, although I don't mind that so much because chapter 13 was so long. Besides, this was the best break-off point I could find. For this chapter and several of the next ones, there'll be nothing but adorable Gala and Songi interaction. OMG, shit's getting real now! :D

Thanks to Barako for BETA'ing! ^_^

Chapter 14

It was just before evening by the time Songi returned. It had begun to grow slightly dark outside, but there was still a little light out. It seemed Songi had finally gotten the message and decided it wasn't worth the risk to anger his roommate right then.

After he'd gotten back from the post office, Gala had taken the time to bathe, change the rest of his clothes, eat lunch and begin reading one of the couple of costly books he'd purchased in town the previous day. He'd noticed almost right away that there was hardly anything to do in the house, and even a few mediocre novels were better than nothing.

Besides, the book he'd started had helped him keep his mind off things. Although, even with the distraction, he'd already had to stop himself several times from deciding to take a Door of Wind to visit his friends after all. The growing anxiety stirring in him hadn't completely waned in months, and it was especially bad when Songi wasn't somewhere nearby. Not that having the guy around made him particularly comfortable either, but still.

For the last hour, Gala had been working on a stew, partly to keep his mind occupied and partly because he'd felt like having a hot meal. He was quite good at cooking - not a master, but decent enough - and the smell of the cooking meat, vegetables and spices over the kitchen fire was very appealing.

Gala heard Songi open the door, and he heard him slam it again behind him, but he didn't look around. He was hit with a brief draft that had been caused by the door being thrown open, and judging by the strong sounds of wind accompanying it, the weather had likely turned unfriendly since he'd last been out.

Gala turned around just in time to see Songi throw himself down on the sofa by the fire, his hands clasped together tightly and his face set in an irritated scowl. Feeling Gala's gaze on him, he looked up.

"It got freezing out there," he said. His tone sounded mildly accusatory, as though he thought it was Gala's fault the weather had turned on him. Typical.

"I'm cooking some stew, if you want any," Gala said. "It should be just about ready."

"In a minute," Songi said, turning his face back to the fire. "Let me just warm up. Damn it..."

Songi hunched over the fire, his hands still clasped together. It was only in the relative silence that followed that Gala presently noticed a weak chirping sound. At first he thought it was his imagination, or that it was coming from outside. But after another few seconds had passed, the sound had become too loud and distinct for either of those things.

It couldn't be...

"Songi, what's..." Gala began, then broke off, moving a few steps closer to his companion. Now that he looked closely, he saw that Songi didn't so much have his hands clasped as he had them cupped.

"Shut up," Songi said, still not looking at him.

"Songi..."

"Don't start with me, idiot," Songi said. Likely as a sign of defiance, he uncupped his hands, and Gala saw, nestled snugly between them, a tiny, brown bird. "It'll only be until tomorrow. He was freezing to death out in that hell-weather."

Gala stared at him, stunned. He'd thought this Songi had died long ago - the Songi who'd risked Master Zopu's wrath to rescue and nurture small, helpless animals; the Songi who put said animals' safety over his own comforts when someone inevitably found out he'd again been in one of the forbidden forests; the Songi who'd begged Gala, actually begged him, to help him hide and feed an orphaned group of swallows; the Songi who'd once beaten up a fellow monk because said monk had stomped on a spider that had been crawling along the floor.

Gala supposed it was possible that Songi could've continued being a foster parent for all the helpless creatures he found after they'd stopped being friends. After all, he certainly wouldn't have confided in him anymore. But in any case, this was the first Gala had seen of this behavior for over two years, and he was quite willing to bet this bird was the first animal Songi had shown kindness to since he'd first put on that damned Sim Ra-Seru.

Without a word, Gala turned back to the stew pot and ladled out a large portion into a bowl. He then scooped a glass into the water bucket he'd half-filled earlier. Still silent, he brought these things over to Songi and handed them to him.

Songi, looking up, saw the meal being offered him and hesitated. It was obvious that his pride was telling him he shouldn't accept Gala's cooking, but his laziness was telling him sulking wasn't worth it. Before long, the latter of these two feelings won out, just as Gala had known it would. Songi took the bowl from the brunet, set it down on one of the sofa's arms, and took the glass in his left hand.

"I could've gotten that myself," he said, turning his attention back to the bird.

Gala didn't answer but just walked back over to the cooking pot and served himself, stifling the fire afterwards. He sat down at the head of the dining table and began to eat, watching Songi out of the corner of his eye.

Just as he'd thought, Songi was tending to the bird, tilting the glass of water carefully upwards so the bird could drink feebly from it. He was usually a very greedy and selfish eater, just the way he was with everything else, but he had a tendency to show more compassion towards animals.

The bird drank readily enough, but when Songi put some stew on his spoon and held it under its beak, the bird seemed reluctant to eat.

"Come on, you little moron," Songi said, more exasperated than angry. "Eat something. I'm trying to help you here."

It took a while, mainly of Songi practically shoving the spoon in his charge's tiny face, but eventually the bird began to peck obediently at the stew.

"There we go," Songi said, almost smiling. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

The bird went on eating, clearly becoming more eager with each taste it got. Songi let it eat two large spoonfuls, then gave it some more water. All this had taken a considerable amount of time, what with all the creature's reluctance. Gala had almost finished his stew by the time the bird was satisfied.

"Greedy little bastard, aren't you?" Songi said lightly. The bird chirped.

"At least we don't have to worry about being caught by Maya or Master Zopu this time," Gala said in an attempt at a careless tone.

Songi didn't answer, but for a moment Gala thought he saw another hint of a smile on the red-head's lips. He watched as Songi stood up, gently placed the bird on the floor by the fire, and grabbed his stew bowl. He brought it and his glass over to the dining table and seated himself on the opposite side to Gala, as far away from him as possible.

Songi wiped the remains of the stew from the spoon on his pants, then dipped it into the bowl and began eating. Gala suppressed a shudder and pushed away his own almost-empty bowl.

"Songi, that's disgusting," he said. "You don't know where that bird might've been."

"I don't know where you might've been either," Songi retorted, still stuffing himself. "Besides, your food is so bad, nothing could make it worse."

"You have atrocious manners," Gala said, resisting the temptation to add, 'and it's much better than anything you could ever cook.'

"Whatever."

Things probably would've gotten uncomfortable if Songi wasn't such a fast eater. They might've actually had to look at each other, for one thing. Luckily, Songi fairly wolfed his meal, emptying his bowl and glass in barely two minutes. Once he had, he stood up, not bothering to retrieve and clean the utensils. Not that Gala had been expecting him to.

"Done," Songi said, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

"I noticed."

Songi was already turning to leave, and Gala felt a familiar twinge of annoyance.

"If you're not going to help with the dishes, you can cook tomorrow," he said.

"That's fine with me," Songi said, unfazed.

"And you can do the dishes then too," Gala added.

"What difference does it make if I do my own today and tomorrow, or all of yours tomorrow?"

Gala glowered at him. Songi was getting logical. Gala hated it when he did that, mostly because it was one of the few times Songi's pitiful arguments held any real merit.

"If by 'neat,' you mean I don't want to live in filth, then..." Gala began after a moment.

"Oh, shut up."

This seemed to close the topic. Songi looked over at the bird, his expression softening ever-so-slightly.

"He can stay over there tonight," he said. Of course, he was stating this, not asking for approval. "I doubt he'll leave the fire, so all his crap should be in one place tomorrow."

"And I won't be cleaning that," Gala said firmly.

He wasn't sure why he was getting so worked up. For that day at least, Songi hadn't really done anything wrong. He'd come back when he'd promised he would, he hadn't seemed to draw any unwanted attention to himself, and he'd even rescued a helpless, freezing bird, something Gala had thought he'd never see him do again.

"I never made you before," Songi snapped. "I always cleaned that stuff myself."

"Yeah, but only because leaving it alone would've given you away," Gala said. "There's no danger of that here, so what's to stop you from leaving it there now?"

"Same reason I didn't leave my puke: I don't want you bitching at me."

Gala might've actually smiled at this if, right after he'd said it, Songi hadn't turned away from him with a dismissive, "Later," and begun to walk away.

"And don't even think about telling me not to leave the house again," Songi added warningly over his shoulder, just as Gala had been about to open his mouth to do just that. "I won't go anywhere without telling you first."

Gala felt his face flush a little in irritation. "You mean asking me."

Songi stopped and turned around, the familiar smirk visible.

"Well, aren't you important," he said. "I guess you really do like having power. We're not so different there."

Gala didn't even bother trying to argue with him.

"I'm going to read," he said instead. "I bought a few books yesterday when I went out-"

"What a waste of money!" Songi interrupted. He and books had never gotten along very well.

"I got a dictionary too," Gala went on, as though he hadn't heard him, "just in case you want to read something. I know how much you need those."

He didn't know why he continued to bait Songi when he'd already decided it was much easier just to try to get along with him. He supposed that, if Songi had taken particular offense at this and slugged him, Gala would've deserved it.

Luckily, Songi's inexperience with reading had been one of the few things Gala had teased him about back when they'd been friends, and it'd never enraged him then. It wasn't so much that Songi was stupid - although, right then and for the last several months, Gala had often found it hard to think of him as anything but. It was more that he was too lazy to learn to read and distinguish all the symbols someone his age was expected to know. Plus, he'd never been crazy about sitting still and looking at a page or book to begin with.

"Go to hell," Songi said, though he didn't sound much more offended at Gala's words than he had as a kid.

Gala left it at that and allowed Songi to go back to his room unharassed. He was supposed to be the grown-up one, after all. He was the mature, quiet, dutiful former Master Teacher, one of the heroes who had saved Legaia. Songi, meanwhile, was the immature, loud, obnoxious idiot who had joined the group responsible for almost single-handedly wiping out humanity - not to mention Gala's parents and Songi's father.

"In Songi you will find a nightmare awaiting. Remember - Songi is your shadow, your alter ego."

Not for the first time, Gala remembered Hari's words, and again realized just how true they had been. 'Alter ego,' indeed. Songi was almost his evil twin. They even looked somewhat similar; their rough, spiked up hairstyles; their similar heights; their muscular bodies that all the training in the monastery had yielded; their bright blue eyes. They had different-colored hair, of course, and Songi's skin was paler than Gala's. Not to mention, their faces were completely different. But still, maybe they looked enough alike for them to be shadows to each other, just as Hari had said.

Shadows... Gala thought, smiling a little as he made his way into his own bedroom. That's kind of interesting, I guess. Still... I liked it better when we were best friends.

OMG! Songi has a soft side! ^_^ I've been waiting to show that off for a while, so I'm glad I finally got to. Plus, seeing Songi being kind to that bird makes Gala remember things, like their old friendship, which is always good. I don't want to give away any spoilers, but things get very intense in the next few chapters. ;)

Just to clear things up, I'm fairly certain they speak Japanese in Legaia, based off the information found in the official guidebook. In Japanese, the kanji alphabet consists of over 2,500 symbols students are expected to learn by the end of high school. X_X I've discussed this with Barako and Hikari No Aijou before, but I can easily picture Songi not knowing more than 1,750-2,000, which is much less than someone his age should know - because he's so lazy and probably slacked off a lot in school. ;D Ah, I love him. ^^