Legalities remain the same. Thanks to FaustinaAurelia13 for reviewing!

He grunted as he ran through the battlefield, his armor giving him such a familiar power that was also rather unique as his sharp blades slashed through another youja. Breath became more and more difficult to grasp and hold within his throbbing lungs as his feet pounded across the wooded landscape. Concentration on the situation at hand pulsated in rhythm with the pounding of his warrior's heart. While he may have started this fight with aid of his four comrades, he suddenly sensed that the battle became painfully his own, meaning that he was surrounded by the enemy and far from seeking or giving aid.

Considering the sheer heat and energy burning throughout his body and the armor, he should have been able to fend off many of the armored demons racing at him. Dodging to the left, he tried to outstep and outthink his enemies without becoming reckless in his attempts to undo their mayhem.

"Someone! Help me!"

He spun on his heel after cutting another youja in two, releasing the dark spirit back to its maker. Frantic, bright, tiger-blue eyes scanned the area quickly, leading him immediately to a kimono-clad female crying to him as she hung from a pillar, flames slowly creeping up the wooden trap around her feet.

"Hold on!" he cried, speeding toward her, reaching out to her as he leapt into the air. Suddenly, he felt his heavy armor leave him and the twin katana vanish from his hands, his street clothes on his body once more as he grasped onto her outstretched hand just as it began to disappear from his reach.

"No!" He watched her fall into darkness, her green eyes crying tears of blood as she screamed in agony, purple shadows consuming her.

Bolting from his troubled slumber, his scream continued along with the panting and aching of his lungs. The feeling of his pulse vibrating his ear drums made hearing more than difficult, which was positively alarming given that the sun's first rays streaming through his bedroom window blinded his wide, alert gaze as well. His mind slowly slipped away from the battle continuing to rage in his memories and in his dreams, but he could not easily erase those eyes or that scream from his conscious thoughts.

Sighing heavily a few times, a hand ran raggedly through his long, unruly, ebony hair only for his fingers to be greeted with rivulets of sweat. Glancing at the alarm clock on his bedside table, he cursed slightly. Once again, he'd been awakened from a restless sleep before his alarm had the chance to end the dream. His eyes fell to the red orb nestled on a small blanket of fabric next to the alarm clock.

While nightmares from past battles frequently tortured his sleep, making the precious hours of rejuvenation all the more unattainable, he could not recall the girl in them before. Hell, the only two females he could ever recall meeting throughout the Youjakai wars were safe, as far as he knew, and they certainly did not have those green eyes. Not like those spectacular, entrancing, begging, emerald orbs.

"Rekka . . . what are you trying to tell me?" he murmured to himself, rising from his bed and grasping the orb between his fingers as he stood. Ever since his armor's strength returned, Sanada Ryo began to dream about that girl with the emerald eyes. Each night, he both dreaded and desired to go to sleep, wanting to understand and fearing why she kept appearing to him only to parish moments before he could save her.

He should tell his comrades. They were probably dreaming as well, especially if their armors' powers had also returned. He tried sensing out the other four armors but realized that his friends must be concealing the powers as much as possible to avoid alerting one another to potential danger. The attempt at secrecy went as an accepted, understood, and silent sign of protection and not offense for Ryo considering that he had just begun to settle into what seemed to be a normal life. Well, as normal as life could be for the five demon-fighting samurai, and he enjoyed the prospects of life without war.

Dressing slowly for his day of classes and lectures, he thought over the possibilities at hand, negotiating with himself all of the reasons why Rekka, the fiery armor of righteousness, returned to his hands. Lady Kayura mentioned in their final conversations after the last war with Youjakai that the armors would be at rest until they were needed again. She even took the armors and their powers with her and the three remaining MaSho when they returned to their realm. Was he safe in assuming that she released the armors back into their care as a sign of warning? A request for help? A demand to stay away? A command to prepare?

All of the above?

Sighing as he fought with the last button on his dress shirt, he double checked his right hip pocket to be certain that the orb's familiar weight remained where he placed it. He had too many questions and not enough answers – a fact that would not change if he relied on his own dreams and senses alone. He would have to address his comrades. Today. At school.

He glanced around the tiny, one-bedroom apartment he'd been calling home in Shinjuku since the last war ended and the final semester of the school year began. There was no real need for them to remain at Yagyu Estate with Nasuti. Not only did they have school to return to in the city, which would make traveling from her rural home into town every day rather lengthy, several of the others also had their families to return to. He hated the apartment, though. Not only was it small, it choked him with loneliness. Honestly, he should have been used to living on his own since he was often by himself before Rekka first sought him out and Kaos trained him alongside the four other warriors to fight. In retrospect, being on his own again was just not as welcoming as it once was as a child. He'd become rather used to his comrades' faces and mannerisms over the last several years to the point that they were comforting.

Sadly, they were becoming more and more distant from him with each passing day. With the need for a normal life to return, busy schedules soon took over their lives. Not only did they have to make up any missed school work and time with family, they also had to prepare for the remainder of their lives. Uncertain of where to go with his life after the war, he found himself static while the others progressed, which made the loneliness all the more unbearable. Sure, he tried to fill the time void with various activities like sports to keep his body fit and a part-time job to keep the roof over his head, but they were not solid distractions. Both areas lacked the familiar, trustworthy faces that he craved and the teamwork that he'd become so used to after bonding with the others.

Exiting the apartment, he chuckled to himself a little. Smoothing a few strands of dark hair as his eyes greeted the rising sun, he thought about the irony of his loneliness. He saw the other four samurai most days of the week at school, and yet he could not reach past the distance that separated him from them.

Even there, we are different and divided.

Mouri Shin, the eldest his four closest friends, was just old enough to be in a higher grade than the rest of the group. With graduation quickly approaching, he was busy with plans for college. Any and all plans of where the auburn-haired, gentle warrior applied to or accepted entrance into were kept extremely secret. So, Ryo hardly ever saw Shin outside of extracurricular activities.

Strangely, he saw boy-genius Hashiba Touma and boy-gorgeous Date Seiji the most during the day between math and science classes. However, Seiji spent most of his days in the history and language departments of the school while Touma thrived in the sciences. Ryo found himself luckily proficient at math to be able to spend as much time near those two as he did.

However, he often found himself in classes alongside Rei Fuan Shuu during the afternoons. The Chinese teenager often struggled academically, but not nearly as much in language classes as Ryo did. Shuu was often the one that Ryo bumped into throughout practice times as well, which shouldn't have come as a surprise to the ebon-haired as he boarded the bus that would take him toward school. Out of all the male athletes in their school, he and Shuu rivaled one another for the title of what Americans probably called jock.

Outside of those instances related to school, Ryo rarely saw any of his fellow soldiers if at all, especially considering the familial situations that three of them found themselves in.

Shuu and Seiji belonged to highly family-oriented households. Being the eldest of, the last time Ryo counted, six children, Shuu was often left to be the babysitter when he was not working at the new branch of the Rei Fuan restaurant empire. Not only did Shuu love his job since he loved food, but he also loved the prospects of becoming head of his own branch or two one day. Then again, he would have to try and score enough time away from raising the siblings that he also loved very dearly in order to have enough time at improving his academic background before opening a business on his own.

On the other hand, Seiji had all of the smarts and book knowledge to accompany the practice of leading classes and the business of his family's dojo. He did not have the intent to follow in his grandfather's footsteps as the next family head, though. Not taking over the dojo would be a waste of time and talent, especially considering the amount of hours the blond put into teaching kendo classes when he was not leading the school's kendo team or attending tournaments. Seiji adored his family, but they were rather too traditional for him at times after the war. Even at a distance, Ryo could tell that Seiji was being smothered slightly and slowly by the expectations held for him by the Date family, but Seiji held too much honor for his family to simply remove his self from the picture.

Shin was quite the different story. He often talked about enjoying time with his elderly mother before and throughout the Youjakai-wars, but he'd become strangely quiet about his sister's recent marriage. Ryo honestly thought that Shin would accept a new brother-in-law with open arms. Apparently, several reservations existed that the quiet warrior was not going to initiate conversation about any time soon. The war affected Shin the most, challenged his gentleness in ways that must have made readjusting to simply caring for his mother and preparing for college rather difficult.

Touma, however, was rather content to be on his own. Considering that his world-class reporter mother and mad-scientist father rarely talked to each other or to their only child after the divorce, Touma was not exactly excited to return any kindness. He chose to live on his own closer to Tokyo University on the other side of town, especially considering that he'd already been accepted to the school an entire year early – no doubt something that occurred as a benefit of the nightly cram-school classes that he attended with Shin. So, the apartment situation was perfect to take the intellect through the rest of high school and most of his college years.

Ryo stared into his locker as a thought crossed his mind after retracing his mental steps a few times while walking from the bus and across the school's front lawn, That's why they're so distant. The war against Arago has affected them just as much as it has me, and they're trying to assume that they did not change for the sake of saving . . . what? Their images? Normal lives?

He resolved to find an answer to his question as soon as possible as he headed to his first class of the day, which would allow him to seek resolve rather quickly. As he suspected, two of his comrades who shared calculus class with him were already in their seats when he arrived. Touma, as always, stared out into the distant horizon with sleepy, midnight-blue eyes, his cobalt-blue hair falling into them despite any attempts to reroute that one stubborn lock of hair otherwise. Seiji was usually wide awake by the time Ryo arrived, but his lavender eyes seemed glazed and distracted with a restless night to rival Ryo's. His blond locks were perfectly quaffed nonetheless to not only frame his face, but also to shield the world from the intensity of his silvery gaze. Even more strangely, he doodled across his blank sheets of notepaper in waiting for their sensei to arrive and begin class.

All three warriors excelled at mathematics, so Ryo was rather concerned to not find Seiji studying in preparation for the weekly quiz at the end of the week or reviewing homework for continued lecture or attempting to rouse Touma into wakefulness by doing much of the same academically. The silence vibrating from Seiji as Ryo took his seat behind the blond was the most obvious piece of evidence that something was wrong. Seiji generally greeted him with a warm welcome or would be intermingling with their classmates if attempts to rouse Touma failed and review or study had already been completed. While Seiji was not nearly as outgoing as himself, Ryo knew that many of the girls in their grade – hell, in the whole school – were fanatically stupid over the blond. Being the gentleman that he was, Seiji never thought once to not encourage their fandom. This morning, though, he was very much antisocial.

"Ohayo, Seiji, Touma."

Silence replied his firm greeting. His brow furrowed. Instead of simply trying to innate conversation further, he decided to begin preparing for class himself, if at least to remove his mind from the trains of thought colliding in his dreams and in his consciousness.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he caught an unintentional clearer glance at the sketch Seiji focused so tediously on. Immediately, Ryo's breath caught in the back of his throat.

"That girl . . ."

"You recognize her. I shouldn't be surprised," Seiji murmured without looking away from the details he began to add to the figure leaping toward the girl's outstretched hand.

Touma's eyes turned away from the scenery beyond the glass and landed on the picture. "You always seem so distraught when you reach out to her. As if you know you'll never reach her in time."

Ryo cursed mildly under his breath. Seeing the images from the dream himself was rather difficult. He couldn't imagine what ran through their minds as they watched from a distance. "I never do. Even with Rekka's help, I never do."

Silence bridged between them for a moment. Seiji leaned back in his chair, placed his pencil down, and crossed his arms over his chest with a frown on his lips and brow as he studied the sketch further. Touma's eyes returned to the distant horizon beyond the window once more, his chin leaning heavily in the palm of his hand as if he were too tired to remain sitting on his own.

Ryo studied the two warriors for a moment, his eyes glancing over both of their faces. He didn't particularly enjoy seeing the purposefully vacant and unreadable expressions on their faces. With a cynical growl, he whispered, "You're hiding your powers."

Seiji's familiar, critical gaze returned as it snapped to accuse Ryo's daring tiger eyes. "None of us want to fight. Life is suddenly simplistic and enjoyable—"

"Yeah, until the dreams returned. I'm not talking about the nightmares, either," Ryo hissed between gritted teeth in order to keep his voice low and their conversation unheard by prying ears.

Touma's gaze focused on them again, his voice of reason returning and awakening him, "We didn't want to alarm one another, least of all you."

Annoyance added a sour spice to Ryo's swirling anger. "I'm not fragile, you know."

Both Seiji and Touma's eyes met his simultaneously. Without a spoken word, they both told him the exact same thing as their sensei entered the front of the room. "You wouldn't be leading us if you were."

Ryo's temper simmered slightly despite their respect fizzing most of the heat in him to a rather quiet flame. He never asked to be leader, but the group relied on him for many things throughout the war, including saving their lives from self-sacrifice. In that moment, he felt a pang of guilt resonate deep in his stomach. They didn't understand that he felt responsible for nearly losing them, especially when he depended on them for so much himself in order to simply survive.

He didn't want them to feel that they had to hide from him or protect him from any harm. They needed to be a solid group that depended on one another without fear of stepping on any toes or hurting any feelings. He didn't want to be respected as their leader.

He wanted to be revered as their equal.

When the bell rang and signaled the changing of classes, Ryo reached out and grasped Seiji's elbow before either of them could escape. "I want us to meet about this. To see if we can come to an understanding of where we are and what we need to do. Together."

Touma and Seiji shared a glance for a moment, the electric silence between them indicating to Ryo that they exchanged a private, mental conversation. Seiji smirked slightly, his lavender gaze flicking quickly to Ryo. "The dojo would be the best place for us to meet. Tomorrow evening."

"Ideally," Touma added, "We should escape as a group to Nastè's if we need t—"

"I don't want to alert her if we can avoid it. Her heart is finally on the mend, and she doesn't need the memories to return," Ryo concurred. When his fellows' faces became slightly crestfallen, he sighed to himself. "Besides, the travel for a few days' time would be a waste for us. We'll have to wait for a better opportunity to get away."

"Good point," Touma muttered, thinking of his own hectic schedule for a moment. "It's settled, then. I'll inform Shin this evening during cram-school. You'll see to Shuu?"

Ryo chuckled lightly as they exited the classroom and began heading down the hall. "With ammunition ready to calm his temper or silence his overexcitement."