Chapter 4

The next week passed in a haze of exams, half shifts, and unwelcome questions. On Thursday Jun refused Ryo's training and by Friday Jun had grown so tired of explaining to his classmates what had happened last week that he simply stopped responding altogether. He spent the weekend in total silence as if he had been rendered mute, and because he stayed always in his bedroom Nasté could never be certain what he was doing.

Jun was busy thinking, and he had much to think about. On top of the constant reminders of his hallucination he had started having dreams, an almost completely foreign experience for him, and he had been so distracted by all of it that he managed to spectacularly fail one of his end of term exams. It seemed to him that the last week of his life had been an uncontrollable disaster.

He was not certain what he should do. He rarely asked for help with anything, never mind seeking emotional assistance, but on more than one occasion over the next days he found himself standing with his hand poised to knock on Nasté's office door. But when he stood there, frozen by fear of vulnerability, he always reasoned himself away. He told himself that everything he was experiencing was all quite normal given his stratospheric stress levels. He told himself that all he needed was extra sleep and to focus his concentration and everything would be fine.

But as the days continued to pass he grew more concerned until he was so consumed by his contemplation that he could no longer sleep. His dreams were getting worse; every time he did sleep he woke hours later cold with sweat and numb with panic. But he could never remember what he had dreamed.

So almost two weeks after his hallucination Jun found himself striding firmly to Nasté's office. He entered without knocking, did not look at her even as she glanced up confusedly from her work, and fell with unconcealed exhaustion into a chair.

He knew that she would not address him. She had made it plain to all of the troopers that if they ever wanted to talk with her they should say what they needed to and if they merely wanted company they were more than welcome to stay quietly. Nasté's office was her place of work, after all, so when she was at her desk she preferred not to be disturbed.

All the same she did not return to work after Jun sat down. She eyed him with concern as he studied his own feet and fidgeted, his hands folded in his lap. Jun looked wholly uncomfortable.

"Are you all right?" She said at length.

Jun shot her a quick and shifty glance. He had not expected her to engage him; he had hoped to begin the conversation on his own terms and now he felt nervous. He could not lie to her because she knew him well enough to know when he was not being truthful. Perhaps worse was that he had come to her intending to tell her everything: the dreams, what he actually saw when he hallucinated, and how he had been feeling jumpy and increasingly out of control of himself, but now that he was faced with the prospect of such complete honesty he felt sick.

"I failed an exam," he said flatly and did not look up from the floor. "It was an important one, too."

Nasté rested her chin on her palm and tilted her head curiously. "I know that," she said. "I got another phone call last week from Atsuko. He was worried that you weren't going to tell me about it and, honestly, I was beginning to worry, too."

"Oh," Jun replied. He was not as much surprised that Nasté knew about his exam as he was that she believed that that was the only thing wrong.

"He said that it shouldn't cause you any trouble, though. A single failed exam might bring your grade down but you'll be fine in the long run."

Jun nodded and resumed staring at his feet. His body felt heavy with disappointment; he wished that Nasté would have guessed that he was not telling her everything. But how could she know? She trusted him beyond reason, especially considering the severity and number of lies he had told in the past.

"You've been awfully quiet lately," Nasté continued after a while, and when Jun looked at her he could see that she was carefully searching his face for meaning. "Even for you, I should say. You've been awfully quiet."

Jun offered a disarming smile, stood, and ran his fingers through his hair awkwardly. "Don't worry about me, I'm okay," he said.

"It's my job to worry about you. Maybe if you worried more about yourself I wouldn't have to."

Nasté had a strange ability to deliver what should be harsh messages in a gentle way and Jun was thankful for it. She was right, after all, that Jun was not known for worrying much about his welfare. He tended to get too caught up in projects, study or making certain that everyone else was taken care of to pay much mind to himself.

What Nasté did not know was that Jun was quiet worried, and he knew that if it showed then everyone around him would realize that something was terribly wrong.

"I'm going to go make some dinner," Jun said. "Are you interested?"

Nasté's face cracked into a wide grin. "Absolutely, I'm famished."

Jun left Nasté's office feeling worse than he had felt before he went in. His confidence was gone completely and now he knew it beyond doubt. Of all the people that Jun had ever met Nasté was by far the easiest to confide in. She did not judge, never rushed to conclusions, and offered some of the sagest advice that Jun had ever heard regardless of what he said. If he could not talk to her now then where could he go?

The thought hung in Jun's mind like a hundred pound weight for the rest of the night. He was so consumed by worry that he did not hear Nasté knock on his bedroom door at what must have been midnight and did not notice that she had entered until he felt her weight settle on the foot of his bed.

He sat up then, excited and hopeful that she had deduced that something much larger than a failed exam weighed on Jun's mind.

"I had a feeling you would still be awake," she said quietly. "I didn't think that all of this would have affected you so much, when you were ill, I mean. Maybe that's why you've not been feeling well lately."

"I feel fine," Jun lied.

"I'm not stupid," Nasté said and again she did not sound angry. "I'm just a little concerned."

She sat for a moment as if contemplating something quite serious, then reached into the pocket of her dressing gown and produced a small orange bottle, which she then tossed to Jun.

"I know how you feel about this sort of thing so I've been holding on to them," she said. "Atsuko said that they would help you sleep."

Jun looked up at her with a stupid expression.

"I know that you don't like feeling tired, especially not when it's caused by something as unnatural as a pill, but I think you should give it a try."

When Jun nodded Nasté stood to leave. But then she turned, somewhat unexpectedly, and looked at him sympathetically.

"I hope you don't mind that I'm trying to help you out. I know how you feel about charity, too."

Jun stood, placed the bottle on his dresser, walked to Nasté and wrapped her in a hug so tight that she was forced to hold her breath.

"Thank you," he said quietly and with a final squeeze Jun released Nasté, and then went back to lying on his bed.

At that moment Nasté knew that something was wrong.

Ϫ

The five samurai troopers stood armed and armored in a line shoulder to shoulder against a deep black backdrop. The colors of their mystical armors glowed bright against the dark and the steel blades of their deadly weapons flared from unknown light. Beneath the crests of their helmets the five familiar faces seemed battle hardened and somehow old as they scowled at the enemy.

It was a single diminutive figure that stood before them, clad in black and almost completely obscured by shadows. It was surrounded by heaps of what looked like bodies, unmoving and limp, that shined with fluorescent red blood. The figure held no weapons and Jun could see no sign of blades anywhere on its being.

Jun watched the standoff with a mounting dread. He felt his stomach writhing, tying itself into knots, and his head felt light and clouded. The feelings were made all the more disturbing as he realized that he was dreaming. He was not standing among the other five troopers and, rather, was watching from a very distant place as if peering through a telescope. His vision became fuzzy at its periphery but his hearing remained sharp like the warriors were right beside him.

"Is this what it comes to?" Ryo shouted coarsely. "Is this some kind of cry for help? Do you think that this is noble?"

The dark figure let out a cold and joyless laugh so evil that Jun felt his skin crawl. Then it spoke in an icy low tenor that struck Jun as dimly familiar, though try as he might he could not tell from where he had heard it before.

"There's no honor in any of this," it said. "Not in what you're doing or in what I've done."

"That's a lie!" Toma cried.

The figure laughed and spoke once more, but this time it sounded much different. He seemed maniacal as if teetering on the very edge of insanity and his voice trembled with excited energy that bordered somewhere between rage and elation.

"It's all pointless," it said. "You'll all die in the end no matter what I do. It doesn't matter that you rely on each other, it doesn't matter how good of a team you think you are. You don't understand that you're alone, and that's what will bring you down. All of you stopped acting on your instincts a long time ago, you lost the ability to look at a situation objectively," the figure spat the last words in spite. "Your hive mind obscures your judgment so severely that you don't even know what is in your best interest. Who are you to say that what I did was wrong? Would you have done differently in my place?"

Jun felt anger welling up in him like a spring, hot and intense in his gut. There was pressure in his head and his muscles twitched and tensed as though he was about to lash out. And when he looked to the warriors his rage multiplied. Ryo and Shu looked angrier than Jun had ever seen them before; Seiji and Toma seemed to be in a state of bewilderment, as if trying to come to grips with sudden betrayal; and Shin looked as though he was about to burst into tears. The five were unmistakably hurt by the figure's speech and despite their best efforts they could not hide their reactions.

As one, Ryo, Toma, Shu and Seiji struck out in a furious offensive but Shin stayed still and stared at the figure as if transfixed.

The figure returned every attempted blow with an attack of its own. It lashed out with its arms, which transformed mid swing into long and deadly black blades, and not a single strike missed its mark. The thing danced around the four warriors with mocking laughter, slapping against their helmets with the dull flats of its weapons.

It was toying with them.

"Stop this!" Shin cried suddenly. "That's enough!"

Ryo, Shu, Toma and Seiji jumped back obediently and shot expectant glances at the warrior of torrent. And at the same time the figure whirled about and launched its arm in a wide horizontal arc. Its weapon flew like a boomerang, the arced weapon racing toward Shin's face, but the champion of water stood rooted to the spot.

There was a crack, then a thud, and the world went black.

"Shin!" Jun screamed, and the desperate sound was foreign even in his own ears. "Shin!"

Jun felt a heavy hand on his shoulder and woke immediately. With a start he sat upright, slapped Nasté's hand unceremoniously away, and blinked the sweat out of his eyes. He could feel his heart pounding in his ears, neck and chest. His head throbbed with skull splitting pain, his vision swam from the sudden movement, and his stomach churned and boiled and writhed. In a single unflattering motion he shoved Nasté away from his side, leaned face first over the bed and vomited on the floor.

He fell from the bed in a heap and once he righted himself stayed on his hands and knees for a long time, his eyes closed against the pain in his head. His eyes grew hot with moisture and he bit his lip to suppress the sudden unwelcome emotion.

Nasté was mortified and did not know whether the terrified screams, the vomiting, or the tears disturbed her the most. She kneeled beside Jun and stared at him like she had never seen him before. How could it be that he was in this position, she wondered, when he had always seemed so indomitable?

Jun was panting, his back heaved with each breath so violently that Nasté feared he would hyperventilate. His mouth opened and closed periodically as if he was struggling to speak.

"I'm sorry," he said finally and his words were so quiet that they were almost indistinguishable from his breath.

Nasté did not know what to do. She did not know what was wrong or how to begin to help. Jun was a brother to her and seeing him in such distress and obvious pain was nearly more than she could bear. He was supposed to be strong and infallible, emotionally sound and always in control. Nasté would not have believed him capable of such an emotional and terrified outburst if the evidence was not sitting in front of her.

Eventually Nasté regained her composure, wrapped her arms delicately around Jun's shoulders, and pulled him to his feet with great effort. As she led him toward the bathroom he did not look at her once, did not open his eyes, and kept his head bowed to the floor. He mumbled apologies the whole while and his voice quivered and broke like he'd spent the whole night screaming at the top of his lungs.

At last Nasté helped Jun to a seat on the bathroom floor where he sat quietly while she produced a cold wet towel and a small glass of water. Then she kneeled before him, pressed the towel against his face, and forced the glass into his trembling hands.

"Are you going to throw up again?" she asked firmly.

Jun shook his head.

"Then I want you to drink that water and try to calm down. Do you understand?"

Again, Jun nodded.

Twenty minutes passed before Jun was calm, and when he managed to pull himself back together it was like nothing had happened at all. The only indication that he had ever been sick was his face, still alarmingly pale and glistening with sweat despite Nasté's frequent dabs with the towel.

Still, the two sat in uncomfortable quiet. Neither really wanted to admit what had just happened; Jun because it was embarrassing and Nasté because it affirmed her suspicion that Jun was more ill than he ever let on.

"What happened?" Nasté said at last.

"Side effect of the tranq," Jun replied automatically, and though he tried to pass the lie off as normal his voice broke mid-sentence. His face went paler still and he looked away.

Nasté knew that he was lying and, judging by Jun's expression, he understood that clearly. But she decided against pressing the point; this was not the time to play angry parent, not when Jun was so far out of his element that he could not pass off a simple lie. Instead she helped him to his feet again and escorted him to the sitting room where she deposited him on the couch with a stern look.

"Stay here and rest. I don't care if you sleep or not but I don't want you on your feet. I can't carry you, you know."

"Yes, ma'am."

"I'm going to go clean up your," she stopped, uncertain how to address the puddle of sick in Jun's bedroom floor. "I'll be back to check on you in a while."

Nasté exited the room, gathered her supplies, and set to work on the carpet. As she worked she thought hard about the last few weeks and how Jun's strange behavior had been getting progressively worse. At first he had tried to act normally and covered everything with well-prepared statements of questionable factuality. But then he went quiet and spent days on end locked away in his bedroom, which was not in itself an odd behavior, but when coupled with his complete unwillingness to talk about anything it was quite alarming. Then he had come to her, completely out of the blue with apparent intention to talk, but had lied about what was wrong. And now he had waked in the middle of the night screaming like a child, had thrown up, and again tried to pass it off as routine.

It was absolutely clear to her that he was in trouble and desperately seeking to hide it, but she did not know why. She did not know if it was her place to seek outside help for him and did not want to alarm anyone with unconfirmed theories.

So when Nasté phoned Shin early next morning she vowed to keep the conversation as casual and speculative as possible. And Shin, who had not expected such an urgent call so early in the day, remained as polite as he could while Nasté hurried through her explanation of the evening prior, offering the occasional "I see" or "okay" when she paused for breath.

"And when he started screaming your name I rushed in there, tried to wake him up, and then he shoved me away and threw up," Nasté concluded hastily.

Shin remained silent on the other end of the line for so long that Nasté worried that he had hung up. "I'm flattered," he said at last and the statement sounded as much like a question as a statement.

"I wasn't sure what to do so I called you," Nasté said quietly.

Shin sighed. "You called me because he's sick and you feel like you don't know how to deal with it, I understand. It was probably just a nightmare, or he ate something bad, or he's stressed out. Isn't it coming near the end of his term at school?"

"Yes," Nasté replied. She had worried that Shin would dismiss her worry without much thought. "But I think that he's not telling me something."

"There's probably a very good reason that he's not telling you something, if that's the case. I'm sure that whatever this is, whatever made him sick I mean, will clear up in a day or two, and if it doesn't just take him to the doctor. He works at a hospital, doesn't he? I'm sure someone will help him out."

"But—"

There came another sigh and when Shin spoke again his voice was heavy. "Nasté, you know that when it comes to all of us you're a little overprotective. I'm sure this is nothing to worry about, but if it's really worrying you that badly I'll make a trip out. I want you to give it a week or so, but I can make arrangements if they need to be made."

Nasté smiled, certain that if Shin saw Jun's odd behavior first hand that he would believe that there was something more than food poisoning at work.

"Okay then," she said. "Thank you, Shin."