I wonder what his name is. Never saw him before...he looks American, but I don't think he is. He obviously understood all the insults those brats were throwing at him. Not that they were being very subtle. Never heard gaijin used like that- as if he was contaminated, just because he has foreign blood...

I sighed, leaned forward in my seat, and rested my elbows on my knees. I was sitting on the train, absently watching the darkness outside the window, and I couldn't get my mind off the blond boy who'd been insulted at the soccer match. I'd acted without thinking- something I was pretty good at- but I couldn't just stand there and listen while those creeps abused the kid. I owed Haruka one anyway for the way he'd treated me on my first day, but it had really been the smirks and nudges, the subtle air of approval from the students around me, that had sparked me into acting. Haruka and Company's quick retreat hadn't surprised me, but the complete lack of subtle comment about me failing to mind my own business had been very unexpected.

Whoever he is, he's a miserably unhappy guy.

I wasn't sure how I knew that, but I didn't doubt it. Maybe it was the expressionless mask of his face as they taunted him; maybe his look of shock when I reprimanded them. Or maybe it was his eyes...yeah. Definitely his eyes. Pale-violet eyes of pain, eyes that didn't match the rest of his careful indifference. And his voice- the soft sincerity in his voice when he thanked me- very much- for defending him.

Get the feeling he doesn't have that happen too often.

I sighed again, feeling very sorry for him. That was how it was in Japan: either you fit in or you got The Treatment, and he definitely didn't fit in. The thought made me scowl; I'd always felt that the habit of judging someone simply by how they looked was racist, and I despised it. Unfortunately, there was plenty of it to despise. Kids learned the way from their parents, and despite being taught that politeness was the correct response in any situation, many people were quick with an insult, subtle or otherwise, when they observed anything that deviated in the slightest way from 'acceptable'. It was our way of enforcing conformity, but that could be taken too far, and in any case, there were always people who used the rules to their own advantage. Bullies like Haruka, for example, terrorizing the younger kids in order to 'keep them in their place' or his own classmates to make them demonstrate 'proper respect'... And any kid who didn't have a social group to support them was doubly vulnerable; the bullies always looked for the weaker ones.

It wasn't like that at home, I didn't get picked on till I got to Hanai...and now that I've gotten myself popular-

Now that I was popular, I could do no wrong, and I really didn't like that. It wasn't just embarrassing, it seemed terribly hypocritical. But I have to admit it: if it was a choice between being overly popular and being tormented by bullies, I would have to take the popularity. It wasn't comfortable, but it wasn't nearly as cruel.

I guess people in cities are more rigid, 'cause they don't get to know each other like people in little towns do. So they don't make allowances or think about how they're making someone feel. Or maybe they're just ruder...

The train reached Azu a few minutes later and I got off- more by instinct than conscious thought- and made my way home, still brooding. That unhappy boy haunted me and I was pretty absent-minded as I went through my usual night-time routine. I had something to eat, managed to concentrate on my homework long enough to finish it, then lay on my bed, musing about what to do now. Having defended the kid, I could hardly turn around and ignore him, and I didn't want to anyway. I felt like I wanted to help him, protect him. He was lonely and miserable, and I had a lot of sympathy for that. But when two lonely people become friends, the result is likely to be pretty strong, and I wasn't sure I should try to have a close friendship with anyone- especially not when I had my secret to keep.

Stop jumping so far ahead, Ryo, no one said he was going to become your friend. He might, he might not, you just have to wait and see. I'll be friendly to him if I ever see him; the rest is up to him. I kinda hope we do get to be friends...but is that really the best? How can I keep secrets from a close friend? And- and what about the curse...if there is one? But he's not family, so maybe it won't count. If- damn it, I'm doing it again. Think about something else!

That wasn't as easy to do as I would have liked.

I spent Sunday doing chores, reading, playing with Blaze, practicing with the armor katanas, and trying not to brood too much about what might or might not happen at school the next day. As night came it started to rain, and when I woke up the next morning- late, because I'd forgotten to set my alarm- it was still cold, cloudy and damp. By lunchtime it was pouring, meaning everyone who normally ate out in the courtyard was eating inside- which in its turn meant the cafeteria was jammed. It took twice as long to get through the line as usual. I had just sat down the table where my teammates and I usually ate, when I heard something through the noisy chattering around me.

"Gaijin-"

I turned quickly to look behind me and saw the blond boy standing hesitantly near from a table full of girls, who were all looking at him as if they'd just seen something nasty. "Go away, foreigner! We don't want you here, get lost," one was saying, and two others were flapping their hands in 'clear off' movements. The sight made me burn. How could they be so cruel to a kid who just wanted to eat his lunch? It wasn't like he was trying to shove himself into their precious little circle of superiority!

The boy began to move slowly away, a look of almost desperation in his eyes as he glanced around the overcrowded cafeteria, searching for a place where someone would let him sit without calling him names or chasing him away. All of a sudden, I couldn't stand it- he was so alone, and looked so lost. I stood up from my chair, half turning, and the movement caught his attention. I nodded at the empty seat opposite me and watched as he approached, surprised but plainly relieved.

"You're not going to sit with that, are you?" one of the girls demanded- one that I had admired from a distance until right about that moment. I didn't answer, and another one spoke up, trying to sound sweet: "Wouldn't you rather sit with some nice girls instead, Sanada-san?"

I glared at her, ignoring the overdone respect in her voice. "I wouldn't mind, if I knew where some were," I retorted, then turned my back on them and sat down. The boy waited until I was seated before he put his tray down and took the place opposite me, which made me a little uncomfortable. "Thank you- again," he murmured, not quite looking at me, color rising into his face.

"Any time," I replied, trying to sound both casual and sincere, and then I couldn't think of anything else to say. The air between us was tight with tension and the way he'd said again made me wonder if I shouldn't have just kept quiet. Being defended against bullies is one thing; being defended against a pack of bratty little girls is not too good for the ego, and I feared I had bruised his pride. But it was too late now, there was no taking it back. Embarrassed, I turned my attention to my food and started eating. The boy followed suit, and a moment later I found myself making a new wish; I wished I'd chosen the fish they were serving instead of the stew. "I have got to start bringing my lunch," I muttered, more to myself than him, but he nodded agreement.

"Tastes like it's been fried in sawdust," he answered, poking the limp-looking fish on his plate. "Without salt."

"Oh, so that's where all this extra salt came from. They gave the stew a double dose so we wouldn't realize it was really old tires," I offered, and he smiled slightly. That eased things a bit, but I still felt cautious. I don't often have trouble relating to people, but most of the people I was friendly with hadn't been treated the way this boy had. I didn't want to say or do anything that might give the slightest offense- and I was more than a little concerned that he'd think I was doing that horrible two-faced thing of pretending to be friendly and then turning on the apparent friend with insults and contempt. It was one of the things I planned to express my extreme disapproval of, loudly and often, in the hope of getting people to stop doing it. I wasn't going to hold my breath waiting, though. I wasn't the only high-status student in Hanai, not by a long shot, and I was still new; my influence for such a major change would probably be very limited.

"I meant to make one this morning, but I overslept and had to run for the train," I added casually.

"Ah. The train?" he asked, so I explained how I commuted from Azu every day. He shook his head over that, then volunteered that he lived close enough to walk to school, though it was a fairly long walk. "When it's cold, I get on the busses, either the school bus or the regular city ones. Though that's sometimes unreliable; last winter, about forty students were late because their bus skidded on the ice and went off the road. No one was hurt, but I was glad I'd decided to walk that day."

"I believe that," I agreed, wincing at the thought. "Have you been here since you started school?"

The boy hesitated. "Not exactly. I had my first three years in Sendai, then...moved."

"Oh." I didn't mention that I hadn't noticed him before; it seemed tactless in a couple ways, so I changed the subject a bit and asked him about some of the teachers. Then we both mused about what we thought we might study when we got to university and which ones we wanted to try to get into. The boy relaxed noticeably as we talked, so I decided to risk a personal question. "By the way, what should I be calling you?" I asked as casually as I could. That's one of the problems with being popular- when everyone knows your name, introductions get pretty one-sided, which makes it hard to do them properly. He blinked at me, so I added, "I suppose you've heard mine, somewhere along the way..."

"Oh. Well, yes," he agreed with a shy smile. "I- my name's Date Seiji, but I- I prefer to be called Sage." He blushed as he said it, and I wondered why.

"Sage...that's an American name?" I ventured.

"Yes, it means- it has two meanings. One is a spice you use in cooking, and the other means a- a wise man. Or person, I guess."

I didn't mention the obvious, that 'sage' and 'seiji' mean the same things and are practically the same word. He probably had his reasons for preferring the American version. "So are you a kitchen spice, or are you wise?" I asked instead.

Sage laughed softly, looking a little surprised. "I like to think I'm starting as a kitchen spice and working up to being a wise person," he answered with a totally unexpected touch of humor.

"That's a very interesting promotion," I replied, grinning. "Or maybe I mean transformation!"

"Once I get there, I'll let you know which one it was," he agreed placidly. "So...what should I call you?"

"Well," I began, but didn't get any farther because a little flock of the elementary-aged boys and girls, all hyperactive and all addressing me with the most embarrassing sort of respect, came crowding around the end of the table to talk about Saturday's game. It was only about five minutes before they scampered off to get into the lunch line, but it seemed like an eternity, and it left me with about a dozen 'Sanada-san's ringing in my ears. Sage seemed amused as he watched them go, then turned to me.

"That happens a lot?"

"More and more," I muttered almost sourly, and leaned back in my chair with a sigh. "As I was about to say: you can call me anything you want, as long as it's not Sanada-san."

He didn't answer at once, just tilted his head slightly, then nodded briefly. "Ryo," he said after a moment, sounding decisive, but a little color ran up into his pale cheeks. "That way you won't wince every time I say 'Sanada', expecting the 'san'."

"I like how you think," I told him, and offered my hand. His eyebrows went up, but he reached over and clasped my hand, looking very pleased and very shy.

Of course I didn't think being friends was going to be as easy as making that gesture. It never is. But it was a good start.

When I look back on it, I don't know whether to marvel at Ryo's patience or to be astounded at myself for capitulating so quickly.

For two weeks I fought the urge to trust him, testing his resolve to befriend me. I had told myself to expect nothing but the most casual acknowledgments from him- a nod of the head while passing in the halls, if that much- and having him simply extend his friendship confused me and made me wary. I accepted his company, but held back, deeply suspicious that he might just be indulging in some complex game of Backstab. Even if he was sincere, he might change his mind when he realized how unpopular I was and how little he would gain from associating with me. It was an awful thing to do to someone who was genuinely trying to be friendly, but I couldn't stop myself. I'd had so much of my trust scorched out of me that I didn't know how to trust him, had had too many hopes crushed to dare risking another one.

The fact that it took two weeks before I decided I would let myself trust him is a good example of how perceptions can differ. To me, that was an incredibly short time, almost a snap decision. You can't learn much about someone in fourteen days, particularly when you're keeping everything on a very casual basis and not trading any significant information. It was different for Ryo, though. For him, the time that passed before I began to let down my guard was a remarkably long span of time. He'd never dealt with anyone so unresponsive, and wasn't sure what to make of me. He's the sort of person that others are drawn to and react to- charismatic, they call it- and he'd encountered very few people who could resist that. It was part of why he was so popular, he's a friendly, accepting person, so he's always had plenty of acquaintances and buddies. Then he met me, and got seriously stonewalled. He must've wondered at least a few times why he was bothering with me when so many other people were much better company.

Then again, he does like a challenge... lucky for me.

As the days went by, we began to form a routine: we ate lunch together every day and hung out whenever opportunities arose, which seemed to become more and more frequent. Instead of doing my homework in the library after school, I would go out to the field and work there, pausing frequently to watch the soccer team practice. We compared schedules and varied our routes to and from class so we could see each other in the halls and exchange a few words. The truth was, we were both incredibly lonely and we sensed it in each other. It took me a while to realize that, though, for I had never imagined that anyone so popular could possibly be lonesome.

During that time, school got a lot easier in general for me as the insults and taunts I had to bear dropped sharply. Some of the students weren't sure at first whether Ryo really wanted people to be polite to me or whether he had just taken a convenient opportunity to deflate some bullies and raise his own standing, but by the end of a week it was pretty clear to everyone that he meant it. It was a fringe benefit I appreciated more than I could say, and in the end it was a factor in my decision. I owed him. He'd defended me, with no idea of what kind of person I was; he deserved much more from me than a casual nod of thanks. More importantly, I was getting a good look at the sort of person he was, and the more I saw, the more I admired him.

My turning point came at the end of the second week, on Saturday, the day of a highly anticipated match against our biggest rival, Tayuki High. The whole school had been in a state of excitement about it for most of the week, and statements like 'pulverize them', 'totally destroy them' and other such confident descriptions had been buzzing through the halls. Ryo had been rather quiet about it; I assumed he was being modest about the team's abilities, but I learned otherwise on Friday, during lunch.

"I wish people would stop talking like that," he remarked suddenly, about halfway through the meal.

"Like-?"

"That." He nodded towards the other end of the table, where a knot of students was going on about 'totally crushing the enemy' the next day.

"Feeling some pressure?" I asked sympathetically. I knew what it was like to have high expectations hanging over one's head!

"Well, yeah, there's always that, but everyone's ignoring the fact that Tayuki's got a very tough team this year. It's going to be a hard game, and I sure don't think we're going to 'trash' them like we did Soushi," Ryo explained, referring to the red-and-blue team that had played so foully. "They have the lowest number of fouls, and their goalie has the highest number of saves in the league, so we're going to need a good piece of luck as well as skill to pull this off," he concluded quietly.

I lost my mood of complacent certainty on hearing this. I certainly hoped our team won, partly because all the team players I'd met had been courteous to me and that was something I didn't take lightly. But I also hated to think that the responsibility for the loss might fall on Ryo's head, no matter how brilliantly he played. The most popular player on the team was naturally expected to ensure that they won, or what was the point of liking him? I frowned a little as the cynical thought went through my head, assured myself that I, at least, would like and respect him no matter what the team's ultimate record, and changed the subject.

I was feeling distinctly tense by the time I got to the soccer field the next day. I stood in what had become my usual place, not far from the players' area, watching the teams go through their warm-up drills and having a few words with Ryo in between times. He seemed pretty calm, but he didn't smile at all and I noticed he was more fidgety than usual. I wished I could think of some words of encouragement, something better than 'good luck' or 'knock 'em dead' or any of the other things I heard other students saying. Finally, just before he was about to walk out on the field, I turned to him. "Forget winning and losing, Ryo," I said, very quietly, so no one else would hear. "You play soccer because you love it- just go on out there and enjoy the game."

Ryo's head snapped around and he stared at me wide-eyed for a moment, then smiled for the first time that day. "Man, I needed that," he replied, equally softly. "Thanks, Sage."

"Any time. Scram!" I ordered, and he ran out onto the field with a grin on his face, blue eyes alight.

Though how I can actually see his eyes is open to question...someday maybe I'll ask him about that. He can't have an irrational fear of barbers, can he?

By halftime, the score was one to one and our team was sunk in exhausted gloom. Most of the students had fallen silent, disappointed by the total lack of 'trashing' that Hanai was accomplishing. The team was fighting tooth and nail just to stay in the game and it didn't look like they had any chance of winning it- no matter how the coaches urged, lectured or scolded. The players responded to the 'encouragement' with dutiful nods and yes sirs, which seemed to satisfy the coaches, but as soon as they turned away to arrange their strategies, the apathy took over again. I watched sympathetically as Ryo ran his hand through his hair, frustration and fatigue plain in his face. He was obviously trying to think of something to put the spark back into them, something more effective, and as he looked around the playing field for some sort of inspiration, his eyes met mine. He stood unmoving for a moment, and then, slowly, a smile crossed his face. He let his hand fall, dropped down to one knee, and started to speak. I knew, I knew what he was saying to them, and I think I turned about as red as a tomato.

Look, forget all that. This isn't a war, it isn't a battle- it's a game. We all tried out for this team because we love the game and we want to play it. So forget winning, forget losing, let's just go out there and play soccer like it should be played: as something we really enjoy. And if we win, great, and if we lose- well, at least we'll have a good time doing it.

The players all started exchanging glances, and then, one by one, they started smiling. Ryo got to his feet as the whistle blew to resume play and the team let out a cheer completely at odds with their glum attitude of a few minutes ago. The coaches looked over with satisfaction and sort of shooed them out onto the field; Ryo jogged up the sideline, paused next to me, and reached out his hand to clasp mine- not in the American 'handshake' but in the greeting between friends who've gotten past the formality of bowing. Neither of us said a word; neither of us needed to. And then Ryo was running for center field and I stood watching him, feeling the most remarkable warm glow that had nothing to do with the weather.

The difference in our team during the second half was amazing. Their nervous tension and strain was gone and they played the way I'd seen them play on the practice field- almost casually, but with more intent. The spectators noticed it too, and began to summon up some animation, cheering a particularly good pass or defensive move. The Tayuki team was too good to get flustered by the change in attitude and fall apart, but they did seem to get frustrated when all their intensity was met with the equivelant of a good-natured shrug. But it wasn't until the final play of the game that the thing was decided, and it was my friend who decided it, stealing the ball from one of Tayuki's defensive men and sending it sailing over the goalie's head, just out of his reach. Our side exploded into cheers, team and students alike, while the Tayuki players looked on in sheer disbelief.

"We could not have pulled that off without you, you know," Ryo told me about half an hour later. Tayuki had departed swiftly; our tired-out team had retreated to the locker room; the student body had flocked for the waiting busses, noisy with triumph. I'd remained on the field to wait for Ryo, sitting on the baseball bleachers and getting some of my homework done. He'd joined me more quickly than I expected and was now sitting next to me, looking over at the empty fields. At his unexpected words- or maybe at the respect and gratitude in his voice- I found myself blushing. Again.

"I think maybe you would have," I ventured, staring at my feet.

"No. We would've gone out, played that half like we were sleep-walking, and gotten soundly beaten."

I turned to look at him, a little surprised by the calmness of his voice. He was watching me, elbow on his knee and chin on his fist...smiling. I smiled back. "Glad to help, my friend," I replied quietly, and blushed again- or still, maybe- at the change in his expression. His smile faded to a momentary look of surprise, his eyes widening and then softening with comprehension.

"So." It was all he said, and it was all he needed to say; the satisfaction in his voice and the sudden grateful pressure of his hand on my shoulder said everything for him.