When it comes to taking people by surprise, Sage is an expert.

It's not quite the same as being unpredictable: unpredictable means doing something totally unexpected. I had begun to expect that he would call me his friend sooner or later, but I had predicted it for later. A whole lot later. Instead, he took me by surprise and said it much sooner than I'd imagined he would.

We didn't say much, that day. In movies and books, people often follow a remark like that with some major emotional scene, baring their souls or some such thing. But we weren't in a movie and neither of us felt any need to suddenly rush into confession mode and blurt out our life's miseries. It's not something you can do out of the blue; you have to work up to confiding in people, no matter how well you like them or trust them. We were friends. That was enough for one day. We'd have plenty of time to learn how to tell each other the things we couldn't tell anyone else.

I went home that afternoon feeling both happier and more weary than I had in a very long time. It had been a great day, but it had also been a very tiring one, physically and emotionally. I'm not sure I even managed to eat anything before I went to bed; if I did, I don't remember what it was.

As the next week went by, I noticed the difference in my friend. It's hard to put into words, but he seemed more open, more ready to say how something made him feel, more willing to volunteer little pieces of his life to me. He admitted that his grandfather was the famous General Date, which was the first reference he'd made to his family since he'd told me his name. I understood that; I wasn't ready to talk much about my family yet either, but I did tell Sage that my mother was the one I got blue eyes from.

On Saturday, things changed in a major way. It was a teacher workday, so I woke up later than usual and found that Blaze had gone off on hunting again. Not the greatest start to the day; the house always seemed emptier when he was gone. I dealt with it by doing some chores that I'd been putting off- keeping busy usually is a good distraction for me- but around noon, I started feeling peculiar. I was anxious and jumpy and I had no idea why. I didn't think it was the Dynasty, since the sky was clear and there was no particular sense of threat, but I had to admit that the warning signs I'd read about in Doctor Yagyu's book- sudden shifts in weather, weird behavior from animals, odd-colored lightning- might not be all that accurate. It had been almost thousand years, after all; things change. I got so anxious that I went outside and stood on the steps for almost fifteen minutes, watching the sky and the forest and just waiting for something ominous to happen, but nothing did. I started to feel a little silly, standing and staring like an owl, so I gave up and went back inside to finish what I was doing, but I couldn't concentrate- the anxiety kept getting worse. My stomach was fluttering, my hands shook, and I had a mad urge to just run- where and why didn't seem to matter at all.

So that was what I did. I remembered to grab my house key, some money, and the Rekka orb before I took off, but after that things went blank for a while. When my head cleared, I was standing on the sidewalk outside the Azu train station, seriously out of breath, with only the vaguest memory of getting there. The good part was that running whatever-it-was off seemed to have worked. The bad part was that I still hadn't the slightest idea what had made me feel so anxious and had no idea what to do about it. I stood debating for a moment and decided I couldn't handle the idea of turning right around and going home. The sensible thing to do was figure out what the problem was first, because it was obviously something at home that was causing it. Or so I told myself; the truth is, I was spooked by whatever was happening and didn't want to be alone while I was struggling with it. Plus, if it was the Dynasty, they would attack the city first and I would need to be there to try and deal with it.

That wasn't a very encouraging thought, either. I had made no progress in finding the other four Ronin, and I knew I couldn't hold off the Dynasty by myself if it should attack. But unless the opening of the Gate caught the attention of the other four and brought them to my aid, that was what I'd have to do. Trying to fight alone would be suicide, but not trying to fight wasn't an option. Either way, I really didn't like to think about it. 'Maybe that's it,' I mused as I got a ticket and waited for the next train. 'Between waking up alone and thinking about the Dynasty, maybe I freaked myself out. I know they'll be attacking soon, but I don't know when soon is, and I don't know if I'll have any help when it does get here. And I keep looking for the others, but I don't even know who or what I should be looking for!'

Sometimes I manage not to think about the things I don't want to think about, but sometimes I start obsessing on them in spite of myself. This was one of the obsessive times; by the time the train arrived I was feeling seriously depressed, and it only got worse during the ride into town. I spent the entire trip trying to give myself a pep talk, but when I got off in Toyama city, I was in a truly miserable state of mind. I was also rather annoyed at myself for being such a stubborn pessimist.

'Well, so, stop telling yourself to think on the bright side, idiot, and go do something about it,' I scolded myself at last, and walked off towards the nearest library to check around in their reference section- again. As I walked, I reflected again about how blasted obscure all the books about it were. 'That's probably why everyone thinks it's only legend,' I mused; 'it sure sounds like a fairy tale! Demons and evil spirits, magic armor, elements and virtues, gates between worlds- ha. And why me, anyway? No Dynasty emperor is gonna take a thirteen-year-old soccer player seriously- I sure wouldn't! For that matter-' I suffered a brief, rather humiliating vision of myself walking up to four hardened warriors in mystical armor and trying to convince them that I really was Wildfire and was supposed to help them defeat the Dynasty. 'Well, maybe I'll be lucky. Maybe soon won't be till I hit university or something,' I concluded morosely.

I was so busy scolding myself and being morose that I didn't notice I'd walked past the library until I reached the park. In fact, I was halfway across the park before I realized I was walking on grass instead of pavement. I felt like a complete fool, and I also felt pretty glad that no one was around to see how foolish I felt. But as I was turning around to walk back up the three or four blocks to the library, I noticed someone was around, after all. Someone was sitting on the grass beside the Mirror Willow Pond (it's called that because it's practically surrounded by willows that reflect off the water) and the sight gave me a shock for two reasons. First, people- mostly kids- come to the pond to make wishes, but once their wish is made they usually leave so they aren't in the way when the next wish-maker comes along. Second, and much more important, I was astonished to see that it was Sage who was sitting there. He was a long way away, but even if he hadn't been about the only blond in Toyama, I would have recognized his jacket.

I hesitated for a moment, not sure whether to approach him or not. I knew I'd feel better being in his company, but I also knew I'd be frustrated at not being able to tell him what had brought me into the city. "Yeah, see, I got to worrying about the Dynasty attacking...you know, from the old legends, only they aren't legends, they really happened, and I have the armor to prove it..." No way- and not just because he'd probably think I was nuts. Then I shrugged and started towards him, figuring most of the truth would be good enough. "I was feeling really restless, so I came to town to find something to do." It would mean the end of my plan to go to the library, but I'd already known that wouldn't get me anywhere. There were more books that mentioned the yoroi legend than Azu's little library had, but they were either more obscure than the first one I'd read- however impossible that may sound- or only gave it a page-long summary. I knew all the summaries by heart, and I really didn't feel like being obscured into frustration again. It could wait a day.

I was halfway to my friend's side before I realized something was seriously wrong. To start with, he didn't hear me approaching, and for Sage that was more than a little unusual, for he was always hyper-aware of who was near him. I was walking towards him from the side, too, so he should have seen me almost at once. Then I noticed how he was sitting, with his legs drawn up and his arms around his knees, his face lowered and his shoulders hunched. I frowned and moved faster; his whole posture practically shouted unhappiness and vulnerability and that was really odd, because Sage was hardly the vulnerable type. He'd perfected his mask of indifference and used it routinely. He'd only just started to let it drop a little when we were together.

I reached his side and dropped into a crouch next to him, asking, "Sage?" cautiously. He jumped, turned so quickly that he startled me, then just as quickly looked away again- but not quickly enough to keep me from seeing the purplish bruises on his pale skin. I heard my breath go in, started to ask what happened, then stopped. It was too obvious what had happened- someone had beat him up!- and my mood shot from depressed to absolutely enraged in about a tenth of a second. I had to clench my teeth for a moment before I could ask, "Who did that?", and my voice still came out sounding like I wanted to rip someone apart. Which was accurate enough! I figured it must have been one or more of the asses from school; maybe Haruka and his friends, or maybe a boyfriend of one of those bratty girls who hadn't let him sit with them.

Sage didn't reply at first, just sat staring at the pond. I had just about decided that he wasn't going to answer at all when he sighed and his shoulders slumped. "Grandfather," he murmured, closing his eyes briefly.

I didn't really register that at first, but then it sank in and I felt my mouth open in shock. "Your grandfather?" I repeated in horror. General Date, the war hero, the highly respected tactician, had beaten his own grandson? "When?" I sputtered. "Why?" I was way out of line with my questions, but I didn't care. I didn't feel like being polite and avoiding all reference to it. My friend was hurt and I was going to get to the bottom of it!

"This afternoon. It was discipline-"

"Discipline!" I snorted, not believing it for a second. "Maybe he calls it that; I call it abuse." Sage didn't answer, just sighed again, still looking away from me. I gritted my teeth, realizing that I wasn't being very tactful, and asked, "Discipline for what?" as calmly as I could manage.

"Well..." Sage hesitated a moment, then shrugged. "Grandfather's been training me in swordplay since I was ten," he said in a weary voice. "Longsword."

"That doesn't give him any excuse to use you as a punching bag."

Sage finally looked over at me, his eyes tired and miserable. He didn't reprimand me for my bluntness; in fact, he almost seemed grateful. "Every day I train while he watches and corrects me, but about once a month he- tests me. To see how much my strength has increased."

"Tests you?" I repeated warily, pretty sure I wasn't going to like this.

"Yes...m-my strength against his-"

"He challenges you?" I all but erupted. "A retired general with decades of military experience facing off against a high school student? That- that's- criminal!"

Sage's hands clenched. "He's...he has never hurt me," he mumbled, but his heart wasn't in his protest. "And today- it wasn't the challenge, it was something I said, something...disrespectful."

"Hurt or not, it's wrong," I retorted, seething. "And I can't see you doing anything disrespectful anyway."

"I- it just- happened, I didn't mean to say it. He said something- I can't even really remember, something about... let's see what you're made of, and I- I-" Sage shut his eyes again and I reached out and put my hand on his shoulder. "I smiled," he admitted, as if smiling were a crime, "and I said, you mean, besides flesh and blood? And he- he dropped his sword and...hit me. And yelled at me. Said I was disrespectful and frivolous and combat was nothing to take lightly or laugh at, and he went on about how unworthy I am...what a disgrace I am to his name, how my mother should never have given birth to a hanyou-"

"He calls you that?" I whispered, too appalled to be angry. Gaijin was bad enough, I knew how deeply that cruel term cut him, but to call one's own grandson a half-breed-!

"He was the first," my friend replied wearily. "When I was three." He paused and took a deep breath, staring vacantly at the ground and shifting closer to me. I squeezed his shoulder gently in encouragement. "That was before my mother sent me to live with him. Now..."

"He rubs it in," I suggested gently.

"He never lets a day go by..." Sage shut his eyes again. "I've tried," he said very softly. "I'm still trying- I don't know why I bother. He's made it clear...the night I got here, he told me I was hanyou, and then he explained that it meant my blood was...dirty, because of my cowardly foreign father. That I would have to be trained very carefully and disciplined to keep me from being a terrible disgrace to the Date name. I'll never be really worthy, but at least I can be less unworthy." My friend let out a shuddering sigh. "I hoped...I can't stop hoping, Ryo. I know he's never going to accept me or even admit that anything I do is well done. I tell myself it's enough when he doesn't criticize me. But it's not...it's not! And I can't stop hoping and trying and failing!"

I sat speechless for a moment, wondering how anyone could be so brutal as to say such things to anyone, much less their own grandchild. How judgmental, how racist, how frighteningly unrelenting that old ogre must be. Treating his grandson like an outcast, trying to destroy Sage's own faith in himself with constant reminders, with the constant withholding of approval and affection, like a prize dangling just out of reach...what a monster! "Of course it's not enough," I murmured at last. "And you can't tell me he isn't doing it on purpose. It's another way for him to hurt you, holding out hope and then crushing it."

Sage was silent for a moment. "I wonder," he whispered. "I often wonder...if he really believes it, or if he's only trying to hurt me. You'd think after three years of it, it wouldn't hurt so much..."

I put my arm around his shoulders- right there in public, too upset at what he was telling me to bother with the usual 'don't touch' etiquette. Sage sighed again, and I felt his weight shift as he leaned slightly against me. "After he finished yelling at me for being so disrespectful, he hit me again. Then he left the practice room and I didn't see him again until lunch. I was afraid he might hit me again, but he didn't. He acted like nothing had happened, just asked if I'd finished cleaning the swords. I do that every day, too- he has ten swords and I have to keep them all sharpened and polished. I told him I had, and he said to meet him in the practice room again, an hour after lunch. I'd been expecting that, since he hadn't even started the challenge, but..."

"You didn't want to."

"I was afraid." Sage fell silent, and I felt him shiver under my arm. "I was afraid," he repeated, "but I didn't want to get punished for disobeying, either. So I went, and he- he was...I- I thought he was going to kill me, Ryo. He knocked my sword out of my hand three times, made me pick it up and keep going-"

I felt my fists clench in fury and forced myself to calm down. The last thing my friend needed was me going off like a rocket.

"-until the last time. Then- I- I was lying on the tatami, and he...put h-his sword at my throat and- and asked me if I thought there was anything to make jokes about now. Did I think it was amusing, to look death in the face? Was I going to take my lessons seriously, or- or not? I don't know how I answered him, I was so scared, I thought he'd kill me if I moved-"

I bit hard on my lip and tightened my grip on him. I wanted to kill General Date so badly that I could almost feel the hilt of my katana against my hand. "But he didn't," I muttered lamely.

"I thought he had. He- the sword- he cut my cheek, but I didn't know- I felt the sting and thought...thought..." My poor friend shuddered to a stop, his breathing unsteady.

"Oh, Seiji," I murmured without thinking, and turned to put my other arm around him too, feeling him tremble and acutely aware of his hands clutching at the back of my shirt. For a moment I thought of what people would say if they saw us like this. Then I blocked off that thought with another: The hell with convention, my friend needs me.

We sat like that for what seemed like a long time, until he stopped shaking and I stopped seeing pure red Wildfire in my mind. It was a little more time before I dared to look at him, knowing the sight of his bruises would set me off again, and it was longer yet before he relaxed enough to let go of me and sit up straight. Then I looked into his face and frowned at the shallow cut that ran from his temple to his chin. He must have cleaned it up before leaving the house, for there was no visible blood. I was about to say that I didn't think it would scar, when he asked shyly, eyes lowered, "Why did you say that?"

"What?"

"Call me Seiji," he reminded me, turning a little pink. It was an improvement over ghostly white, anyway.

"Oh. Oh, I did. I didn't even notice." I made a face at my error. "Sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"It's okay- I liked it," he murmured earnestly, which stopped me more or less in mid-thought. "Everyone else...the only people who've ever said my birth name without sneering at me were my parents and sister, and they were always so unhappy that it hurt anyway. But you- from you-" His blush deepened.

"Oh," I repeated, surprised and relieved. "Okay, well, if you like it, I'll call you that sometimes. Privately."

"That would be great."

'Great' wasn't exactly the reaction I'd expected, and I wasn't sure whether he meant that calling him Seiji would be great, or doing so in private would be great. Probably the last, I decided, thinking of how reserved he'd been until lately.

"Ryo...how can I ever possibly thank you for- today?" he asked softly, finally meeting my gaze.

I smiled in spite of my lingering anger, touched by the shy expression he wore. "Don't," I answered. "Just tell me you'd do the same for me if I needed it."

"In a heartbeat!" my friend swore, gripping my hand in both of his.

"Well, then, we're even," I offered.

Seiji gave me a puzzled frown. "That's interesting logic," he pointed out mildly, sounding and looking more like the Sage I knew. "I haven't done it yet."

"You will. Some day," I prophesied, not knowing how very right I was. I was about to say something else when the sound of the bell-tower striking interrupted me and Sage lost all his color again. "What is it?"

"Five o'clock! I'm late, I'm supposed to be home- oh, he's gonna-" He broke off his remark and scrambled to his feet; I stood quickly and touched his arm.

"I'll just go along with you," I told him, a notion solidifying in my mind. "And explain that it's my fault you're late because I was talking to you."

"But-"

"C'mon. I want to meet this ogre," I insisted, "and maybe have a word or two with him about his behavior." Then I added grimly, "Or maybe not just words."

Maybe not just words...

It took me a few seconds to figure out what Ryo was getting at; I was too shocked at the fact that he'd called Grandfather an ogre and in the same breath suggested that he lecture the old man about his attitude. I couldn't disagree with the analysis, since I'd (very privately) compared my grandfather to a number of different monstrosities, but hearing my most secret thoughts said aloud was a shock, and the thought of anyone lecturing General Date was almost as bad. "A word or two?" I repeated after a moment. "About his behavior? Ryo, what are you- why are you- are you nuts?" I concluded in horror as the rest of Ryo's comment caught up with me and I realized what he meant.

"I have no idea," he replied almost cheerfully, grabbing my wrist and setting off briskly across the grass. "That's a good sign, though, right? People who're crazy never think they are. At least I'm willing to consider it."

I couldn't believe it. He was all set to march off and issue a challenge to General Date, and he was joking about possibly being crazy! Possibly, hell! was my immediate, if unvoiced, conclusion. "Ryo, you can't!" I burst out, stumbling a little before I found my stride and moved up alongside him. "You can't challenge Grandfather, he- he'll kill you!"

"Well, he'll try to," Ryo corrected me clinically, all amusement gone from his voice. I took that as an encouraging sign; maybe he'd come to his senses.

"And if he doesn't- if you kill him, you'll end up in prison- if you're lucky!" Not that this outcome was at all likely, but flukes did happen, and the consequences would be harsh.

"I'm not going to kill him." My friend sounded a little surprised now. "I want to, but I won't. It would get me into more trouble than he's worth."

I felt a shiver run down my spine at the grim determination in his voice. Twisting my hand free of his grip, I grabbed for his shoulder, trying to slow him down long enough to talk some sense into him. I couldn't let him do this, though I knew I'd never forget his willingness to protect me. "Ryo, I don't want you to get hurt!" I insisted, and heard my voice quake a little. It wasn't just that I knew how badly the General would hurt him before he ended the fight. The challenge would end in death. Ryo was my one friend, and I couldn't bear to think of him confronting Grandfather, getting himself killed, and leaving me alone again.

"I have no intentions of getting hurt," the stubborn little brat insisted coolly, turning to look at me from narrowed blue eyes.

"Intentions!" I snorted. "He won't just kill you, he'll cut you to ribbons, first! You don't know what a maniac you're going up against!" I winced at hearing myself denigrate Grandfather, but if it would stop Ryo from his foolhardy, misguided impulse-

Ryo stopped walking and faced me. "So tell me," he suggested quite calmly. "You said he has ten swords?"

"Ye, eight no-daitchi and two katana, but-"

"So he favors the longsword?"

"Yes, but Ryo-"

"Sage, don't worry. I know what I'm doing, okay?" he interrupted earnestly. "Just tell me what you think I need to know."

I sighed, giving in and hating myself for it. "The longswords are family swords, they all have our crest on them, and they've all been carried into battle and used. Most of them were specially commissioned. The katana were a gift from a shogun to one of his great-great-uncles for a service the uncle did. That's the only reason he keeps them, and he never uses them," I answered dispiritedly.

"But they're in good condition?"

I nodded and started walking again when Ryo tugged on my arm. He continued to fire questions at me as we went and I did my best to answer, all the while trying to think of some way to dissuade him. What I'd said before was perfectly true: A revered man of war like General Date could get away with slaying a rebellious kid who'd arrogantly challenged him and paid the consequences, but a thirteen-year-old boy, no matter how popular he might be at his school, would be either imprisoned for life or outright executed for murdering an honored elder. Probably the latter: from the questions Ryo was asking me about various forms, I concluded that he knew at least as much about swordwork as I did, maybe more. That meant that he had a very slight chance against Grandfather, but it also meant that if he did kill Grandfather, the law would be harsher on him for failing to restrain his skill with a deadly weapon.

After a while, Ryo fell quiet and simply hurried along beside me through the darkening street. Dusk was falling, the wind was rising, and I could feel the chill of the late-October air through my light jacket. I wondered vaguely why Ryo wasn't cold, since all he was wearing was jeans and a thin, long-sleeved, blue-and-white shirt. A few minutes later, the driveway loomed at us out of the gloom and I paused under one of the giant cedars that bordered the gravel, half-tempted to misdirect Ryo to someone else's house. Then I discarded the notion with a sigh, knowing it wouldn't work. "Here," I said reluctantly, and turned up the driveway.

The House of Date Clan sat at the end of a short, curving drive that stopped at the garage. The house itself was a few yards farther back, with a covered walkway between the garage and the front door. A bricked path led from the back of the house through the garden and up to the small wooden-walled practice room that Grandfather had built when he took possession of the place from his father. I led the way down the path, knowing the General would be in there now, waiting for me and doing his own practice routine, which he seldom allowed me to observe. He said there was no point, since I'd never be skilled enough to master it myself.

When we reached the door, Ryo pushed it open, stepped right through the changing alcove without even bothering to take his shoes off, and pulled open the main room's door. Frankly, I was shocked by this apparent lack of protocol. You didn't enter the practice room in your street clothes, you stopped in the alcove and changed into your gi before you went into the main room. And you didn't let the weather stop you, no matter how uncomfortable you got. The place had no heating or air conditioning because, as Grandfather pointed out frequently, you don't carry a heater or air conditioner with you when you go into battle. You just fight, whether it's hot, cold, wet, foggy, or icy.

The hinges on the inner door squealed as Ryo stepped inside and paused. I hesitated behind him, then moved reluctantly inside and edged to the left, toward the spot on the wall where my own sword hung. Grandfather was standing with his back to us, his favorite no-daitchi held over his head in a position I'd never seen before- not even at tournaments, where I often saw unusual styles. "You are late, boy," he said harshly, not turning.

"Yeah, I'm afraid that's my fault," Ryo said before I could even open my mouth.

Grandfather abruptly lowered the sword and turned, looking surprised for all of two seconds. Then his cold, impersonal mask dropped over his face and he looked at us out of stony eyes. Standing there before him, late and improperly dressed, all too aware of my earlier disgrace, I suddenly wished the ground would open and swallow me. He looked nothing like the 'old man' and 'ogre' Ryo had called him; he was every inch the warrior, the general: his posture militarily rigid, gi impeccably arranged, its whiteness a sharp contrast to his dark skin; iron-gray hair tied in the traditional tail. His black eyes dismissed me and turned to study Ryo, and I winced as that gaze raked over my friend. Ryo looked exactly what he was: a teenage schoolboy in worn sneakers, jeans, and an ordinary after-school shirt; a little on the short side, well-proportioned and fit but hardly significant. I noticed Grandfather's eyes narrow as he studied my friend's face, and knew why he was frowning. The General disapproved of long hair on anyone but a proven warrior, and even then it had to be maintained in a tail, not left loose and undisciplined. Ryo's untidy black mane offended him; Ryo's strikingly blue eyes were another irregularity, and his casual mode of speech was yet another offense. To say that first impressions were unfavorable would be a major understatement.

"And you are?" Grandfather inquired, almost mildly.

"Sanada Ryo," my friend answered coolly, making a rather more respectful bow than I had expected.

Grandfather bowed slightly in return and gave the test he gives every visitor: a very obscure greeting that has only one correct response, meant to distinguish friend from foe. When Ryo replied correctly, Grandfather lifted an eyebrow. "So you follow the way of the warrior?" he asked disapprovingly, studying my friend again.

"Yes. The master of my dojo has taught me."

Grandfather asked which dojo and nodded briefly when Ryo told him Kigan-do in Azu. "I have heard of this school. It is acceptable, if small. And do you learn anything else from him?" he asked, which was a rather insulting way of asking what martial arts Ryo favored.

"Swordwork," Ryo answered laconically, and I got the feeling he was starting to get annoyed. More annoyed, that is.

"Ah. And are you any good?"

The correct answer would have been a modest, my teacher says so. Ryo's simple, arrogant reply was, "Yes."

"Such confidence in one so young is a great pleasure to see, in these days when so many denigrate their skills," Grandfather remarked smoothly. "Of course, most of them are right to do so. Perhaps, young master, you will permit me the pleasure of a brief challenge? It is seldom that I meet a genuinely skilled opponent."

I winced at the barrage of insults, and Ryo's eyes narrowed, but he nodded calmly and looked thoughtfully around the interior of the room, his eyes darting from one sword to another. I noticed that his gaze lingered on the katana pair, but he took his time and sized up all the no-daitchi before walking over to where the katanas hung. He pulled one from the sheath and regarded it for about a minute, then nodded again and turned to face Grandfather. "This one will do."

"Ah, katana-style. I might have known; all the boys wish to be samurai these days," Grandfather commented tolerantly. "And will you fight like that?" he added with more distaste, gesturing at Ryo's outfit.

"Better my own clothes than a gi that won't fit right- even if it is little untraditional," Ryo remarked, running his free hand through his bangs in one of the most subtle insults I'd ever seen. By drawing attention to the long hair Grandfather disapproved of, he was saying his appearance had nothing to do with his skill level, and simultaneously criticizing Grandfather's obsession with tradition. Or maybe he just wanted to see better- but I didn't think so, and from Grandfather's frown, neither did he.

"Very well," the General shrugged, and nodded towards the center of the floor. I edged a little more to the left and paused when I reached my own sword, my stomach knotting up as the two of them fell into fighting stances. I had seen just enough katana-fighting at tournaments to recognize Ryo's expert posture, but all the same I wrapped my hand around the hilt of my sword and vowed that I wouldn't allow him to be hurt, not even if intervening got me killed. Ryo had a lot more to live for than I did.

Grandfather began the duel as he almost always did, with seemingly slow and easily-parried attacks. He seemed to like lulling his challenger into a sense of complacency, but this time it looked like a lost cause, for it was immediately obvious that Ryo was out of his depth. His technique was clumsy and he barely avoided several stabs that could have injured him severely. I winced at each near-miss, wishing he'd just put the sword down and concede defeat- though from the determined look on his face I knew I might as well wish that Grandfather's sword would turn into a snake or something.

The General picked up the pace and Ryo's form got worse as he steadily gave ground before the stronger attack. I tightened my shaking grip on my sword-hilt and waited for an opportunity to step between them, knowing I wouldn't do much better than Ryo. Grandfather was using a form I'd only seen once or twice before and never practiced against, so my chances of defending myself- or Ryo- successfully were about nonexistent. As I stood there watching, feeling helpless and very frightened, I wondered just what the stubborn kid had to smile about- for he was smiling faintly, as if something rather amusing had just occurred to him.

Five minutes later I was still waiting for a chance to intervene without getting immediately decapitated, dazzled by Grandfather's unfamiliar form and astounded that Ryo wasn't injured. But for all his clumsiness, he had either parried or evaded every single stroke- there hadn't even been first blood yet- and he was still smiling that faint, half-amused smile, as if indulging in some private joke.

I began to suspect what the joke was at the end of fifteen minutes. My friend remained totally on the defensive, but he was still untouched- and more, he wasn't even breathing hard. The General, in contrast, was using as much skill as I'd ever seen in him use in a tournament, and he was breathing more quickly than usual. There was clearly a good deal more to Ryo's style- if it could be called a style- than met the eye. In a weird way, it reminded me of Grandfather's own deceptive tactic of hiding speed and strength behind the guise of a slow, weak old man, and I started to wonder...

Metal clashed, making me jump. Grandfather had used a technique I knew well, binding the katana blade against his no-daitchi and bringing all his weight down on Ryo's sword-arm. "I thought you said you were good, boy," he remarked almost idly, but there was strain in his voice. Ryo wasn't budging, though he had shifted to a two-handed grip on his hilt. "But you are no fighter- you are too clumsy, relying on luck and defensive maneuvers instead of genuine skill. As you see, luck can fail you."

I tensed, knowing what would come next, and began to slide my sword free. I would only have a split second to act-

"Oh, you want to see my measure?" my friend asked coolly. "I thought you wanted me to see yours. All right, no problem." Somehow- my eye couldn't follow it- he disengaged and sprang backward, twisting in the air as the longsword blade arced around and thrust for his heart.

And missed.

Grandfather missed!

For a second, everything froze. And then all hell broke loose- to put it mildly- in the form of one incredibly skilled and furiously determined Sanada Ryo.

You can't learn swordwork without taking in at least a little of each different style. My experience was all with the longsword, but I had seen katana-swordsmen work before, and I could distinguish beginner from expert. But I had never seen anything like what Ryo unleashed on my unsuspecting grandfather. The blade flashed like lightning in his hands, forcing Grandfather to back away even as he defended himself from the barrage of slashes. I let my hand drop from my hilt, closed my mouth on my sheer astonishment, and watched in awe, drinking in the sight of Ryo's speed, his grace, his sheer skill and complete control. He moved like a dancer, an athlete- of course! I'd seen the same speed and agility on the soccer field! And it was no wonder he wasn't breathless; all the running he did must have greatly enhanced his wind and stamina.

What really pleased me, though, was that Grandfather's expression revealed shock as great as mine, or greater. He had underestimated Ryo badly, and with far less excuse than I could offer. Grandfather was supposed to be the expert, able to judge his opponent at a glance, and he'd totally failed to see the expertise behind my friend's playacting. Thrilling as it was to see Ryo's skill, and relieved as I was that I needn't intervene after all, I felt a greater satisfaction in seeing the General so reduced. His easy kill was turning out not so easy after all, and all from his own habit of judging people by their appearance!

It ended more quickly than I would have liked. After about five minutes of whirlwind attack, Ryo sent the longsword skidding across the tatami and touched the point of the katana briefly to Grandfather's chest, signifying the match won without loss of life or injury. For a moment he remained in a wary posture, waiting to see if Grandfather would press an attack despite being defeated, then straightened as Grandfather made no move to regain his no-daitchi. He regarded the katana with interest, then went to the wall where the twin sword hung and sheathed it.

"Why do you not finish the challenge?"

I had never heard quite that note in the old man's voice before; almost a yearning note. I'd also never heard him so out of breath before.

"I am finished," Ryo pointed out without so much as turning his head towards the General, much less facing him with respect. "Not all duels end in death, and I'm a bit young to become a murderer anyway." He crossed the room and paused beside me, his eyes warming with friendly concern, so I figured I looked as shocked as I felt. I managed to smile at him in relief and gratitude- and more- and Ryo smiled back reassuringly.

My grandfather's sigh brought my attention back to him, and when I looked over, his eyes were also fixed on my friend. "You should have been my grandson- you would honor my name, not like that worthless one beside you," he stated.

Ryo's eyes narrowed with sudden anger and he whipped around, hair flying, to face the old man. "Just because you lost is no excuse for insults!" he snapped, clenching his fists. "And what the hell makes you think I'd want anything to do with you and your precious name?"

Grandfather looked taken aback, briefly, and then his cold, hard dignity asserted itself. "How dare you denigrate my name! I am-"

"I know who you are, General!" Ryo interrupted, the height of rudeness. "You're a mean, cruel control-freak who calls himself honorable but twists the way of the warrior to suit himself! You're a bully and a coward, a monster in human form- you couldn't pay me to carry your name, and anyone who does have the misfortune to be related to you has my total sympathy."

My grandfather, the honored general, glared first at Ryo and then at me, his gaze condemning me for bringing this insolent brat into his house. "Show this person out," he ordered briefly, and turned to pick his sword up off the floor. "And do not bid him farewell," he added rather cryptically. I knew what that meant: the traditional farewell included an invitation to return, and was given even to one's enemies, if they came in peace. The only people who were not granted a formal farewell were the undesirables, the dishonorable, riff-raff, criminals, exiles. It was an insult, but it was also a warning: Ryo wasn't welcome and if he set foot on the property again, Grandfather would either challenge him again or call the police to have him removed. Probably the latter.

"Don't worry, I wouldn't want to come back," Ryo snorted, and this time his comprehension didn't surprise me. He turned his back on Grandfather and waited politely for me to leave the room first.

I led the way out of the practice room, down the path, and past the house in a daze. When we reached the top of the driveway, I paused and turned to him, trying to pull my thoughts together long enough to decide what I wanted to say. It wasn't easy, since there were quite a few thoughts fighting to get out of my mouth. "I wish you'd told me you were so good," I blurted out at last, trying not to sound accusing. "You had me scared half to death."

"Sorry, Sage," Ryo responded gently, putting his hand on my shoulder. "I was afraid he'd guess what I was up to from your reaction, and I really wanted to knock him down a couple notches."

"You certainly did that," I agreed, feeling another surge of triumph. "He totally misjudged you."

"And you're not too upset about that, are you?" he teased, and then his voice turned grim. "He had it coming."

"It- you-" I began, and finished lamely with, "just amazing!" Ryo chuckled a little, but for me it was a serious thing and I pressed on, "I've never seen anything like that, not at any tournament- and I've only seen that form he used once, but you seemed to know it!" Belatedly, I realized why he'd seemed so clumsy at first; he'd been using no-daitchi techniques with a katana, which meant he knew both weapons well. 'I won't even need to switch swords after all, though I will if he insists...' As I thought this, my half-formed resolve solidified. I gathered my nerve and dropped to one knee beside him, looking up at him in the gathering darkness. "Will you- will you teach me?"

Ryo stared down at me in surprise, blinking a few times. This was not the way one asked another to teach anything, much less swordwork. He should have been the one asking me if I was willing to learn, the teacher offering his skill to a student, conferring a favor- not the student demanding lessons from his superior, desiring something he had no right to. Anyone else would have not only refused, but rebuked me for being so forward, asked me what made me worth teaching. I had hopes, though. Ryo was my friend, not a stranger. And my friend's answer was totally typical of him, revealing what was at the heart of him.

"Sure," he said simply. "On one condition."

"Name it," I murmured.

Ryo dropped to a crouch beside me and replaced his hand on my shoulder. "No more of this," he said firmly. "I can teach you, but I won't have any of this sensei/student stuff between us." And as I gawked at him, he added, shrugging, "Half the people in Japan can teach swordwork, but- you need a friend, Seiji, and so do I, and I'm not sacrificing our friendship for that kind of formality. I'll teach you as my friend, or I won't teach you at all. And you'll learn, 'cause I will be tough on you, but not so tough that you start disliking me."

I drew in a breath, let it out, and reached up to grab his hand, saying that way what I couldn't quite get into words. I would have my friend and my teacher, and I couldn't ask for much more than that. "Sounds great," I managed after a moment, deliberately informal. "When do we start?"

"Right now, and you start by standing up. Crazy kid," Ryo retorted, affection in his voice as I got shakily to my feet.

"Me, crazy? I'm not the one who was entertaining the notion earlier," I reminded him. "That was entirely you!"

"Oh, that's right," my friend mused, grinning at me. "Oh well. Like types, you know."

"If hanging around with you makes me nuts, I-" I broke off at the sound of the practice-room door slamming and turned quickly, feeling a chill run over me. "Oh, he's furious," I murmured in reply to Ryo's soft question. "He's never slammed a door in his life, no matter how angry he-" Another slam echoed through the deepening night as the house door closed hard enough to rattle windows. And I had to go into that house and face him. The thought made me shiver, and once I started, I couldn't stop. I was wondering how hard he would beat me when Ryo's hand left my shoulder and closed firmly around my wrist. I jumped in surprise at his touch and looked at him as he tugged on my arm. "What-?"

"I don't think you ought to stay here tonight," my friend said in a dire voice, pulling me down the driveway. "Not when he's that mad, not when he's got a couple grudges against you already, and not now that he's discovered he can hit you and not ruin what passes for honor with him."

That was blunt enough; it was obvious Ryo'd had a thought remarkably similar to my own. "You're probably right," I began rather plaintively, "but I don't know where-"

"With me, of course," Ryo answered, sounding mildly surprised as the gravel underfoot turned to smooth pavement. "Come home with me, stay tonight, maybe stick around tomorrow till he cools down. He'll get over it faster if you're not around, right?"

Go home with Ryo? I hadn't even thought of that, and if I had, I wouldn't have suggested it. Bringing someone into your home was something not lightly done, like deciding to confide in someone. I wasn't sure we were at that point yet, even after this afternoon and evening, but my only other option was to try to find a room in a hotel, and I doubted I'd be able to find any accommodations on such short notice.

"Won't he?" Ryo asked, and I suddenly remembered his question.

"I hope so," I agreed dubiously. "It's hard to tell, he's never been that angry before. Ryo, I don't want to put you to any trouble..."

"No trouble," he replied, glancing at me. "Besides, if he goes looking for you, he'll check with the hotels, right?"

"That's a good point," I agreed, feeling a little shiver go down my back. "And thank you."

Ryo smiled and after that, we both said very little as we walked along the quiet road in the deepening darkness. The few streetlights flickered on, making pools of blinding yellow and long, darting shadows stretch across the pavement. The air was chilly and I shivered slightly, sticking my free hand in my jacket pocket. My other hand, in Ryo's grasp, was significantly warmer, and I wondered vaguely about that. "Winter's certainly on the way, isn't it?" I remarked, remembering that he was wearing no jacket at all.

"I guess it is," Ryo answered casually. "I didn't really notice, though. Cold never does bother me much."

"Cold-blooded, hm?"

"Something like that." He sounded amused. I didn't inquire further, too preoccupied with my own thoughts- the chief one being how in the world to thank him properly. And by 'properly' I didn't mean formally; I meant with something more sincere than domo arigato. I was still brooding over that, several blocks later, when we reached the brightly-lit sidewalk outside the train station and I realized it would have to wait a while yet.