Life catches up with you fast.

Even if you're aware that an event will be of momentous importance, and you prepare accordingly...

...often, it turns out to be more of a wild ride than you were expecting.

xxxx

One of the divergences between Keves and Agnus manifested in terms of personal transports.

For the nations which had hailed from Alrest, they utilized Titanships, by and large. For those from the world of the Bionis, they were largely of Machina or High Entia design: mechanical utility for the former, ancient elegance for the latter; yet, some vehicles marrying both design philosophies had come into being in the years after Zanza's defeat. (For those with trace memories of Aionios leaking through, design inspiration from the ubiquitous Levnises would not be long in coming...)

Yet, in an effort to conserve energy, denizens of both worlds had turned towards vessels that could sail the open seas, for the sake of exploring the new world that had been born from the Rejoining. The Nopon, as ever, seemingly had knowledge of naval navigation stocked away for the occasion; for the descendants of the old world, it was a rediscovery of their ancient heritage.

Such thoughts quietly filtered through Noah's head, as he halfway listened to his companions discuss various matters.

"-it is important to avoid 'faux pas', also known as 'oopsies', or 'boo-boos'," explained a metallic maid with purple hair and orange eyes. "Utilize 'comedic misunderstanding' references two through seven if you must." The cutie — in both a literal and metaphorical sense — calmly added, "Poppi learn hard way, mostly through Tora."

The other mechanical maiden sitting beside her — a more lithe individual in a body of black and red, with hair colored a bright, pale green — nodded enthusiastically, her green eyes literally glowing with excitement (and energy). "Yes! Student Ino will reference materials with great and terrific zeal, Sensei Poppi! Will use learnings of Grandmasterpon Oosoo...I mean, Grandmasterpon Tora!" She looked over Poppi to the other occupant sitting with them. "Apologies! Ino keep forgetting that 'Sneaky-Sneaky Time' is no longer applicatory!"

The rather husky Nopon sitting in the window seat to their right — clad in weathered overalls and a denim jacket, with fur striped like a tiger's — huffed with displeasure. "Meh-meh, Tora not appreciate being used as negative example," he grumbled, his brown mohawk bristling with irritation.

Poppi casually remarked, "Masterpon's secret identity in other world was name of grandfather, but with one letter removed." It was not quite an accusation.

"Was providing homage! And hiding in plain sight! Disguise was perfectly adequate for purposes!" retorted Tora, defending his past choices. "Besides, since Tora not caught, it clear evidence that 'Oosoo' persona was perfect!"

"Post hoc ergo propter hoc fallacy, Masterpon," immediately replied Poppi.

Tora stared flatly at Poppi. "...Poppi been learning 'words' from Rex-Rex's Blade Adenine again."

"Yes."

Tora grumbled at the sass (intentional or otherwise) from his Artificial Blades.

Across the aisle of their private transport vessel, Noah couldn't help but smile.

(After Mio had left for Mor Ardain, Noah had been taken by Dunban for one more rendezvous of sorts: this time to a large floating whale of a Titan called Goldmouth, home of the 'Argentum Trade Guild'. It had been the site of some sort of gathering — BladeCon, or something like that? — hosted by Nopon for those interested in Artificial Blades, Blades born from the Core Crystal Reproduction process, or in the numerous Agnians who had awoken after the Rejoining with inexplicable Blade-like features on their bodies where there hadn't been any before the Intersection. It was a convention for those intrigued by the science of Blades as applied to very untraditional 'Blades'. Granted, Noah hadn't been thinking about that sort of thing; he had only set foot into a large prefabricated auditorium — where Tora, Tora's Dadapon, and Tora's Grampypon were leading a talk about the Artificial Blades they had developed — when a very familiar cry had echoed out. "MASTERPON!" screamed Ino, practically rocketing from her place on the stage to tackle Noah.)

I'm just glad she didn't break anything, mused the young man, still wincing at the slight ache in his torso. It had been...a mollifying experience, having a more pleasant remnant of Aionios around.

It certainly didn't outweigh his memories as N, to be sure. But he didn't have the luxury to ignore that sort of thing.

"Are you wondering how you'll speak with them, today?"

Noah looked to his left, where Dunban was calmly observing him. (He had been doing that a lot, as of late.) "I mean...shouldn't I?"

"Preparing too much is inhibiting in its own way," he cautioned. "Analysis Paralysis, I've heard it called. Where you think so much that you're unable to make a decision."

"Ah. I suppose that fits," Noah admitted. "Then again...being unable to make a decision might be seen as a blessing if you make the wrong one."

Dunban shrugged, staring at the window of the Titanship being piloted by an old friend of Tora's family by the name of Umon; far in the distance, the humanoid form of the dormant Ardainian Titan lingered, serving as an eerie echo to the form of the olden Bionis. "For all that Shulk was able to have visions into the future, it didn't stop him from agonizing over his past choices. The same holds for everyone, I would argue...myself included." Looking at Noah with stoic eyes, he remarked, "You've spoken to me about what happened to Joran; could you imagine Eunie and Taion betraying you? Joining Moebius?"

Noah impulsively wanted to retort that there was no possible way. Yet, the experience of Joran tempered that retort; his own past experiences as N fully squelched them. Those who knew me...would not have imagined that I would be capable of destroying the City, of putting it to the torch. The person I had once been...would have considered it unthinkable.

Dunban seemed to sense his trepidation, adding, "My closest comrades from my old team...Mumkhar, and Dickson. We fought together. Shed blood together. Even if the former was unreliable and a bit of a lout, he was genuinely strong. And Dickson...as far as I was concerned, he was Shulk's father in all but name. Yet Mumkhar fought for the Mechon to slaughter our people, and Dickson turned out to be the disciple of Zanza, the greatest threat to our world..." With a bitter smile, he added, "Most would say I'm a rather poor judge of character, wouldn't you agree?"

Noah emphatically shook his head. "I don't think it's as simple as that. I think...the people we're close to...we want to think the best of them. We want to believe that they'll do right by us." (But people could let them down. People could falter, become lost, or choose to do wrong. Such was the inherent risk of the world that Ouroboros had fought for.) "...do you regret Mumkhar and Dickson being your comrades?"

Dunban hummed thoughtfully. "My biggest regret is my own blindness; that I had been unaware of any signs that could have shown their true motives, or the essence of their character. A lot of lives might have been saved, that way. Yet...I am no god. I cannot change the past." With a knowing glance, he added, "And neither can you."

"...I know." And Dirk's in the same boat. "I guess I'll just have to take the day as it comes."

With a sudden huff of amusement, Dunban added, "It is rather unnerving, to speak so frankly of such matters with a young man. Yet your mind and demeanor are beyond that."

"So I've been told," dryly mused Noah, wondering just what unintentional costs would come with reclaiming his memories of Aionios. We'll make it through...hmm? He belatedly noted pressure on his bicep; looking to his right, he saw that Ino's dainty yet fierce hands had gripped tightly onto him. "Ino?"

"Masterpon is feeling sad. Ino is here to cheer you up! Because if Masterpon is sad, then Ino is sad. And if Ino is sad, Ino cannot be most heroic of Heropon! Will even become more heroic than this 'Riki' Ino keep hearing about!"

(Tora quietly coughed under his breath, prompting a stern look from Poppi QT.)

Dunban chuckled. "I'm sure Riki would appreciate the challenge. At least try to avoid going into debt before taking the title, though."

"Mmmmeh?" queried Ino. "What need have Ino for moneys? That is job of Nopon to worry about! Only currency Ino worry about is ether! But...ether also cost moneys...should Ino be worrying about budget? Oh, stickfiddles!"

Noah smiled at the strange naivete of his proverbial Blade, feeling the glimmering bond of affinity between them. "Thank you, Ino." I'm not alone in this. I don't have to be alone. I don't have to be N...

That's how Noah assuaged himself, as Umon slowly brought them in towards Hardhaigh Palace.

xxxx

As the morning crawled onward in Alba Cavanich, Oleg broached a certain proposal with Rex, Mythra, Mio, and Dirk.

Needless to say, it was a tad divisive. "Talk about stacking the deck," griped Mythra. "What are you trying to pull?"

"Nothing at all," the Indoline calmly remarked, looking stoically in Dirk's direction. Qíjīlóng remained wrapped around Oleg's shoulders: unassuming, yet alert. "I overheard from the Special Inquisitor that Noah and his escort would be arriving in Mor Ardain today. To have all six of Ouroboros in one place — the ones who had the most grievances with Moebius D in Aionios that are cognizant of that world's events — is an opportunity that can't be passed up."

"So what are you going to do?" demanded Dirk, crossing his arms with a scowl. (Mio idly noticed that he tilted his head in a fashion similar to Mum; had he always subconsciously imitated Nia and she had never noticed?) "Line everyone up, let 'em have a chance of laying into me? Put me on trial, maybe throw me off the roof afterwards?!"

"Dirk," grumbled Rex. "That's enough, now."

"...sorry, Dad." Dirk huffed, chin dropping into his chest. Mio briefly placed a hand on his shoulder, a gesture he seemed to appreciate.

Oleg simply arched an eyebrow. "You are prone to catastrophizing, young man. It is simply a chance to talk; nothing more. An opportunity to achieve understanding...albeit without it devolving into a brawl as yesterday's spar did."

As Dirk mulled those words over, Mio dared to speak up. "No games, Teach?" The use of his common title in Aionios was intentional. "You sometimes have a...forcefully roundabout way of making people get the point of your lessons. There aren't any tricks?"

"Nothing of the sort. Just a room, with privacy if you so desire, for the seven of you to hash things out. Nothing more, and nothing less." Glancing over at Rex and Mythra, he asked, "Any objections?"

Rex frowned, staring intently at the deceptively youthful Indoline. "Have you cleared it with the others?"

"My assistant was intrigued by the idea. His partner, for all her grumbling, seemed eager as well...if only to put any unpleasantness behind us. I highly doubt the Special Inquisitor's Blades will deny Sena the opportunity, and she seems intent on finding a silver lining to this whole affair. And if she's onboard, Lanz will be as well." Turning towards Mio, Oleg added, "As for you and Noah...is there any doubt that you'll give it a chance?"

...he's got me there. Mio placed her hands on her hips, ears twitching with frustration. "When you're not my commanding officer, your habits suddenly seem a lot more frustrating."

"That's what happens when he tries to pull stuff as though he were still a military man," griped Mythra. "Then again...how many years did you spend in Aionios? That you can remember, I mean?"

Oleg pointedly ignored the question, looking towards Dirk. "This is not a means of being antagonistic. It is quite likely the most convenient means available for you to move forward...wherever that may be."

("Did he just ignore me?" growled Mythra, even as Rex preemptively held her back.)

Dirk was thoughtful about it, judging by how deep his frown was. Even if he found it somewhat distasteful, Mio watched as he looked in her direction, as if for support. She could only nod with empathy (because in the end...she wasn't proud of her own failures as M, however different they were in kind to what D had done; she never wanted to be the sort of person who could stomach watching N stew in his own self-imposed misery for untold centuries, out of a desperate hope that he would return to the Noah she had fallen in love with). Finally, he remarked, "Fine. But I wanna make a statement." Looking toward his luggage in the corner of the guest room, he added, "Go on without me Mio. I'll be there in a bit."

"You're sure?"

"Gotta talk with Dad and Mother first." 'In private', went unsaid.

Mio took the hint, electing to follow Oleg as he left; as they traversed the palace halls, she asked, "They seemed rather...hostile. I take it yesterday's meeting wasn't all honey and fish, was it?" Oleg quirked an eyebrow at her choice of words. "What? Melosion Honey and Mint Fish are a delicacy in Gormott. At least, that's what Mum's always said..."

Qíjīlóng hissed with amusement, while Oleg remarked, "I'll take your word for it. But yes; your brother is quite the prickly sort. Understandably so, in light of his current situation. Yet I'm of the opinion that too delicate a touch will be insufficient to remove those barbs."

"...Mother looked like she wanted to skin you," admitted Mio.

"And that's within her right to feel that way. But until Dirk honestly confronts his past from that world, the future he desires will remain forever beyond his reach."

Mio couldn't quite refute his words. She quietly pondered the tension lingering within the very air of the palace, even as lightness and contentment ebbed and flowed; before long, she was brought to what was apparently a private conference room of sorts, where familiar voices echoed from inside. Oleg nodded in silence before departing, content to leave her to her own devices. With a quiet sigh, Mio fiddled with her long hair — privately feeling conflicted; she was used to long hair, yet there was a not-so-quiet part of her that thought of it as a pain in the arse — before entering.

"-you're supposed to go slow with the finger foods, Lanz!"

"Come on Eunie, these things are tiny."

"You gonna make a mess!"

"Keep your feathers on, it's not that big of a deal..."

Off to the side, Sena looked at the bickering Kevesis and remarked, "I mean, hors d'oeuvres aren't really filling...but these are pretty nice."

Lanz looked oddly at Sena. "What kind of word is that?"

"Fancy lingo for snacks and appetizers, I think," observed Eunie.

Sena blushed, retorting, "Hey! It's not a fancy word!" An awkward pause. "...I think?"

"So what if it's fancy? It's just another word," bluntly said Lanz, before cramming a flaky pastry stuffed with cheese and tomato into his mouth. "Lot of effort for such tiny food, though."

"But the chefs worked their butts off! That's just the way it is!" exclaimed the blue-haired Blade. "So...don't make fun of them!"

Lanz looked bewildered. "Who's making fun?"

Eunie rolled her eyes. "Way to be insensitive, Lanz."

"You're one to talk, sis," huffed the taller boy, only to get a bit of toast covered in sauce smushed into his face. "Hey!"

The banter was strangely natural; there was an odd sense of liberation in how juvenile their interactions were. Despite their memories of Aionios, the context of their current lives allowed them to act...unencumbered, in a way that had not been allowed to them in the Endless Now. With that thought, Mio glanced towards the side of the room, where the two most cerebral members of Ouroboros were quietly conversing: Noah and Taion, doubtless comparing notes about their respective lives in this world, and how they had managed the integration of their memories from Aionios.

As she approached them, Noah's eyes lit up. "Mio," he said, offering a hand.

Mio quietly slipped her hand into his, interlinking their fingers together. (It was the gesture of young love, giddy from the mere prospect of holding hands; even with memories of lives as lovers and more, this by itself caused her heart to flutter. The function of being a mere teenager, or something more wholesome?) "Did your reunion with Ino go well?"

"Too well," remarked Taion, relaying a story Noah had apparently already told. "A flying tackle from an Artificial Blade is no joke."

Mio, knowing just how hard Poppi could hit, winced. "You okay?"

"Better," admitted Noah, looking into her eyes as if trying to divine something. "Your brother...is he on his way?"

"...he will be," admitted Mio, sensing his dread. "Nervous?"

"...somewhat," he confessed.

Taion, fiddling with his orange ascot, remarked, "Do you have concerns about his restraint? That he might feel compelled to lash out?"

Noah shook his head. "Nothing like that. It's more...personal. Uncertainty about how I'm going to respond, more than anything Dirk is going to do." Gazing over at the more animated trio, he added, "I think they feel the same."

"Filling the air with noise to mask their own inner static," mused Taion. "I can empathize; a part of me wants Nimue to be present for emotional support. Yet the danger we'll be facing is minimal; what does that say about us?"

"That we're not sure if we're going to be able to forgive or forget," said Mio, cutting right to the heart of the matter. "That, no matter how hard we see my brother trying...we'll only see Moebius D."

Taion hummed. "And yet, we're not exactly wrong to do so, are we? Notwithstanding those of us who have personally met Dirk in this life, we only have the context of Aionios; of Moebius. It's going to be an uphill battle for us to simply give him a fair treatment." The disarming way that Taion spoke about their own flaws and weaknesses made his critique feel all the sharper. "Truth be told, until we have a chance to speak face-to-face in detail...there's only so much preparation we can do."

Noah bitterly smiled, strangely amused by Taion's choice of words. "Very true..."

(A familiar ether signature; familiar footsteps.) Mio's ears twitched as the door to the conference room opened. "Here we go," she whispered under her breath.

All conversation ceased as Dirk set foot into the room.

His wardrobe was certainly eye-catching, and far more befitting his tastes for the weather at Gormott than Mor Ardain. Dirk wore shoes and a vest colored green, with golden designs that evoked Mother's colors. The pants — a darker color, somewhat baggy, yet made of a material durable enough that they didn't seem casual — were complemented by a brown leather belt, hanging asymmetrically over his right leg. However, of particular importance was what was missing. "Dirk, why aren't you wearing a shirt?" demanded Mio.

"Yeah!" protested Sena, looking uncharacteristically (or maybe characteristically, given her royal upbringing?) scandalized. "Mama Brighid got on you the last time this happened!"

Dirk huffed, jabbing a thumb at the familiar emerald Core Crystal embedded in his chest. "Making a point, Sis." Her brother, eyeing both Lanz and Eunie — the former looking stern, the latter looking downright hostile — bravely approached the table, where platters of various finger foods awaited. "Hopefully they'll get the message," he said, grabbing a bit of meat and cheese. "So...might as well get this wild ride started," he said, taking a big mouthful. When no one responded — unaware of how those choice of words had made everyone go tense — he looked somewhat baffled. "What? What did I say?"

Mio resisted the urge to sigh. This is going to hurt, I can already tell...

xxxx

Author's Note: Next time, it's Dirk versus Ouroboros...from a certain point of view.

/then again, 'versus' may be overselling it.

/because I'm sure a simple conversation will go just swimmingly