It took me a minute to figure out why I was in the guest bedroom when I woke up the next morning.

The first thing I became aware of was that I was being half-blinded by the sunlight coming in though a small opening in the curtains. That had never happened before, since my bedroom window didn't get the morning sunlight, and it confused me. I sat up, wondering what was going on, and nearly fell off the bed because I was right on the edge of the mattress. This bed is not made for two people, was the thought that went through my mind as I looked at Sage, and the next one was, How can he sleep like that? The sun was directly in his face, but he was sound asleep anyway, looking remarkably peaceful for someone who'd woken up yelling in the middle of the night. Oh, that's right- that's why I'm in here. I had intended to go back to my own room after he calmed down, but somewhere in there I had fallen asleep beside him.

I thought about going back to my own room and getting a little more sleep, but changed my mind when I saw how late it was- nearly ten o'clock. I slid out of the bed, left the room as quietly as I could, and went to get dressed. Then I got together my usual breakfast- most people would call it Americanized, but I happen to like eggs and I see no reason why I can't have them in the morning. And toast isn't really that different from rice crisps, when you get right down to it. I took my plate out and sat on the steps to eat, enjoying the early-morning sunshine and the fresh air. After I finished eating, I put the plate down on the step next to me and sat for a while with my elbows on my knees and my chin in my hands, thinking. I had a lot to think about, and it was all sort of running around in my head in no particular order. I finally focused on Sage's nightmare- and his reaction to it- and gave that some serious considering.

It was about the last thing I had expected from my reserved friend. All I'd seen of Sage told me that he was very wary of showing his feelings- in fact, about expressing himself at all. He was cautious about his opinions, approached problems with a 'let's take it apart and examine it' attitude, and was pretty formal in his speech and behavior. It was, I mused, as if he was being very careful to be thoroughly Japanese in attitude, in order to counter his non-Japanese appearance. He also had a sarcastic sense of humor, a way of understating things in a way that left me smiling ruefully. I wondered if my habit of getting fanciful seemed silly to him, then shrugged that off; he laughed often enough even as he told me I was weird, so I figured he had no objections. I knew he had his vulnerable side, but I had only seen it in bits and pieces, flickers behind his eyes that betrayed the cool, calm, almost emotionless mask he wore- until yesterday, and last night.

I suppose what happened is, he hit the breaking point. He had a bad scare yesterday and I helped him with that. And I protected him, sort of. So when he got another bad scare- maybe a worse one- during the night, maybe it wasn't so hard for him to let down his guard. And it wasn't like he had many choices- either he could let me comfort him, or he could deal with it by himself. And he definitely didn't want to be by himself! I'm glad he didn't want me to leave- I bet he wouldn't have gone back to sleep, or if he did, he would've had another bad dream.

White Blaze padded out of the forest and came over to sit beside the steps, nudging me so that I would take the hint and give him a good scratching. I did so, my mind still on Sage. I wondered if his mask would be back in place when he got up, or if I would see a wholly new Sage this morning. I suspected it would be the first option, but reminded myself that he had been letting that mask slip ever since he started calling me his friend. Probably, I concluded after a little more thought, it would be neither the old distant Sage nor the new vulnerable one, but a mix of the two. "In other words, this could get a bit awkward," I muttered to Blaze, who cocked his ears at me. I sighed. "Well, you got a new servant out of all this, eh, my friend?" My tiger butted his head against my side and I rubbed his flanks, smiling. At least he and Sage had taken to each other well, though I'd been surprised at how quickly they'd seemed comfortable with each other. Most humans don't take the proximity of a giant predator too calmly, and as Sage had remarked, tigers are very territorial.

I put the question of Sage's attitude aside for a while, since there wasn't much I could do about it- he'd be as he was, and brooding about it wouldn't change anything. Besides, with his knack for taking me by surprise, practically anything might happen when he woke up. I thought instead about General Date, which made me both very angry and very contemptuous. In fact, I got pretty mad at the Date family in general. I couldn't believe any mother would allow her son to be so badly treated by his grandfather, much less actually turn him over to such a man for 'discipline'. I concluded she must either be seriously deluded about her father's nature or totally indifferent to Sage, and the thought infuriated me. How anyone could blame or disparage a kid for being the way they were born- as if they had some kind of choice and had deliberately chosen to bring shame on the family- was beyond me. It was totally senseless and wrong; it was just their way of ducking their own responsibility! His mother's particularly, I thought grimly. And how any man could be so cruel as to label his own grandson hanyou...

I should have guessed that. Didn't think he was American, he just acts too Japanese- though being raised here could've explained it. But he said that swordsman was in his lineage- Masamune Date. I guess I didn't put it together. Is that why they're so mean to him at school, because he's only half Japanese? But they call him foreigner, so maybe they don't know. Maybe that's why he was so distant at first, afraid my attitude would change if I knew. And if I had told anyone, it'd be over the school in hours...

I scowled at the thought. To my mind, Sage's birth was none of his fault and he couldn't be blamed for whatever his mother and father might have done. But very few people would agree with me; they would take General Date's view that a child born with mixed blood was a thing to despise.

He has it bad enough as it is, if it got out that he's mixed blood...maybe that is why he gets treated so bad, maybe they suspect. They certainly wouldn't be so cruel to a genuine foreigner...but they're afraid of him, they think he's bad luck. Ridiculous. The only bad luck he had was getting born into that terrible family, and that worked against him, not against anyone else. And most of that isn't even bad luck- it's just horrible attitudes!

I fought off my looming burst of temper with great difficulty, focused on the pretty day and Blaze's presence until I was calmer, and finally turned my mind to the challenge of teaching Sage swordwork. I had promised to, and I intended to, but finding the time was not going to be very easy. Then I wondered what style he wanted me to teach him, longsword or katana. That was going to be a problem in itself...

The door creaked behind me and I turned as Sage's sleepy voice murmured, "Good morning," above my head.

"Good morning," I answered, smiling at the sight of him. He looked half-asleep, his eyes- eye- barely open, blond hair obscuring the other, his expression tranquil and more un-alert than I had seen before. He came out the door and sat down beside me, his shoulder almost touching mine. It didn't seem necessary to ask how he'd slept, so I inquired instead if he was hungry.

"Mmm, not yet," he replied, and yawned. "Takes my stomach a while to wake up. What're you doing?"

"Sitting?" I suggested, and got an elbow in the ribs. "Thinking," I added more seriously.

"About?" Sage closed his eyes and turned so that the sun shone full into his face.

"Swords, among other things," I said rather cryptically. He turned back to look at me, his eyes suddenly alert, so I added, "You didn't mention whether you want me to teach you katana or no-daitchi."

"Oh. I prefer the longsword," my friend said cautiously, "though I would like to learn about katana-work, too. At least enough so that I can defend myself if a samurai takes a dislike to me."

That made me laugh. "I see. Well, I can teach you katana no problem, but I'm a lot less advanced in longsword." I paused to think about that. "I think the best thing to do is, you show me how much training you have and then I can tell you whether I can teach you any more or not. And if not, I'll introduce you to my sensei down in the village."

"Okay," Sage answered slowly, and I could tell he was a little disappointed.

"I'll still teach you the katana forms, though."

"Okay," he repeated, much more cheerfully. "My stomach is awake now," he added, and we both got up to go take care of that before starting any lessons.

About half an hour later we got outside again and immediately realized the trouble with our plan. Neither of us had a sword. Mine was down in the dojo, in care of my sensei, and Sage's was back at his grandfather's house in Toyama. "Well, find a good branch," I decided after a moment. "It'll work just as well."

"Too bad I didn't think to bring mine along," Sage muttered, walking the few yards to the edge of the clearing and peering around among the bushes and tree roots.

"I'm not sure the station attendant would have let you on the train with it," I pointed out. "They're sort of strict about that."

"Well, I suppose," my friend agreed, and I could tell he was smiling. Eventually, he found a sturdy stick and came back to where I was standing, halting in a patch of sunlight that was shining on the front steps. "So...?"

"Just start with your usual form first, and then show me any additions or special tricks you use."

Sage nodded and took his initial stance. I moved out of his way, leaning against the step-railing and feeling a few small splinters poke into my side. I ignored them and concentrated on my friend's form. He started most peculiarly, laying the palm of his hand against the side of the stick for a moment, then held it in a perfectly straight line, both hands gripping where the hilt would be.

My first thought was that he must be awfully nervous for his motions to be so short and choppy. In swordwork, each motion of the blade is supposed to flow seamlessly into the next. His were anything but smooth; there was a very slight but visible pause between each cut he made. If it hadn't been so consistent, I would have thought it clumsiness, but as it was, I could tell he was deliberately halting each stroke before starting the next. That didn't make any sense at all; why he would dissipate the blade's momentum like that was totally inexplicable.

Because of his peculiar form, it was a while before I recognized it for what it was, and frowned. Well, it probably was the first thing he was taught- maybe that's why he does it that way. It is supposed to be good for training, but it sure is a weird way of doing it...

At the end of about fifteen minutes, Sage stopped- froze, really, in the final position- then straightened up and assumed his initial stance again, even pressing his hand against the wood. Then he lowered the branch and looked over at me. "Why do you do that with your hand?" I asked curiously.

"You're supposed to feel the energy of the blade," he explained, and I snorted.

"Do you?"

"Well, no," he admitted ruefully. "Or maybe I do and just don't recognize it, but either way, it doesn't seem to make any difference in how I fight."

That made sense, sort of. Many teachers did have some similar ritual, though it was usually to find one's own focus, not to search for something that wasn't there. I nodded my understanding, then waited for him to go on with his next exercise. But he didn't, just stood waiting. After about a minute of this, I said, "And...next?" in my most encouraging voice.

"I don't really have any special tricks," he explained, turning a little red. "I mean, I've done a few things here and there that I kind of made up as I went along, but I never tried to use them consistently. Grandfather didn't approve."

I felt my eyes open wide in shock, not that his grandfather's disapproval surprised me. "You mean...that's it? That's all he's taught you?" I said in disbelief. Sage nodded, looking a little confused. "And he drills you in that every day?"

"Yes. It takes a lot longer when he drills me because he stops me and makes me start over if I make a mistake. I'm always getting my footing messed up."

"And you use this in tournaments?" I couldn't control the anger in my voice, and Sage started to look more alarmed than confused.

"Not in that order, of course. I mean, not necessarily, it- it depends on what my opponent is doing... That bad, huh?"

At that question, at the worried, resigned tone in his voice, my anger burst out; I spun around and slammed my fist against the wall of the house, cursing under my breath. It hurt, but I hardly noticed, I was too furious. I wished with all my heart that I had taken my chances and run that old ogre through when I had him at the end of the blade, but it was too late now. I wouldn't likely get the chance again.

"Ryo? What's wrong?" Sage sounded almost timid, and when I turned, I saw him standing next to me, anxiety all over him. I forced my anger back down and took a deep breath before I answered.

"So he taught you that, then sent you into tournaments with it." As my friend nodded, I went on, "You must have an incredible natural talent, then, because it's a wonder you haven't been seriously- have you?" I interrupted myself. "Have you ever gotten hurt?"

"First blood," he answered, shrugging. "A few near misses. But nothing major."

I sighed and shook my head. "A miracle. Seiji, he hasn't taught you a form," I told him, as gently as I could through my still-intense anger. "He's taught you a challenge-dance. And from the look of it, he's deliberately taught you to do it badly."

My friend's violet eyes went wide, his mouth opened, and the color left his face. "A...challenge dance?" he repeated in a sort of sick wonder. His jaw clenched, and I saw his hands knot around the stick he was still holding. "Well, that's..." He sat down abruptly on the steps, staring straight ahead of him, the stick still clenched in his hand.

I took another deep breath, fighting to control the anger that wanted to break loose again. "That's criminal," I finished for him after a moment.

"I was thinking it's fortunate for me that he only accepts the challenge every month or so," Sage answered gravely, looking over at me. "So," he went on, almost conversationally, "he teaches me a- challenge dance, and all the time he's teaching me, he tells me how I'll never learn even the simplest form right, and how slow and clumsy and uncoordinated I am... and then he sends me into tournaments with it and tells me how badly I did and I'll never be anything as a swordsman... you know something, Ryo? I'm starting to think he's wrong about that!" Sage's voice suddenly changed from wryly casual to utterly enraged and he almost leaped to his feet, his eyes locking on mine.

"He is," I gritted out. "Dead wrong."

"Teach me. Teach me right!"

"I will; you better believe I will!" I took a deep breath and let it out very slowly and deliberately. "I will," I repeated more calmly, "but first let's both calm down a little."

"Right. Right." Sage closed his eyes for a moment. I pushed my anger to the back of my mind, letting it fuel my determination. Seiji was going to be the best swordsman in Japan: I would see to that, if there was any skill at all in my blood or his.

I'm not sure about my skill, but Sage had plenty of it. I used the same procedure I had when teaching the beginners in Kigan-san's dojo, but unlike those eager yet unskilled students, my friend seemed to absorb my directions like a sponge. After half an hour, I went to find my own stick and sparred with him, first slowly and in order so he could get familiar with each move, then more quickly and with more variation. It was so good to see his movements start to flow, his blocks and counters becoming more and more instinctive, his enthusiasm and confidence visibly increasing. It was like watching a rare flower blossom right in front of my eyes, or a butterfly emerge from a cocoon.

After another forty-five minutes or so- maybe an hour- I called a halt and showed him some of the exercises to prevent stiff muscles. "You are going to be great at this," I told him warmly. "My master's got about fifty students altogether, and none of them are even half as quick to pick things up as you are. Most of 'em aren't even a quarter."

Sage seemed to blush a little. "You're a good teacher," he started.

"I'm not really a teacher at all, not yet," I admitted. "I've taught a couple of the beginners, but the sensei kept an eye on us to make sure I was doing it right. He says I will be, though, when he's done with me. Grandmother always said it was partly natural talent- apparently there used to be a ninja school somewhere in my past."

"Hmm. The General always makes a big deal out of that, too," Sage remarked, propping his stick against a tree. "Saying there ought to be better swordsmanship in my blood- except..." He grimaced, not finishing.

"Well, I don't know what gets passed on and what doesn't," I mused. "But I think determination has more to do with it than anything. If you like something and want to be good at it, you will be- unless there's something physically off. Like being tone-deaf and trying to play an instrument, obviously that wouldn't work too well."

"I think you're right." Sage sat down on the steps. "I've learned more today from you than I have in the past three years from him- and enjoyed it more, too. And I want to learn more!"

"This day's not over yet," I reminded him, and we both grinned. "But I think lunch might be a good idea, first."

"That does sound good," Sage agreed, and stood up. Then, as we stepped inside, he looked around with a slightly bemused expression. "Is someone sleeping late?"

His question took me completely by surprise, and before I could think what I was saying, I blurted out, "Who else do you think is here?"

Sage's eyes widened again, and for a moment he just gazed at me in amazement. "You mean...it's just you and White Blaze? No one else? But- but who looks after you?" he concluded as I shook my head.

"I do," I said shortly, feeling my stomach twist in the most unpleasant way. "My grandparents took care of me when I was younger, but they're gone now, and there's no one else-" I bit my lip on the lonely ache and said almost spitefully, "You really shouldn't have anything to do with me. I'm cursed, you see: everyone I love dies. It'll be a lot safer if you just keep your distance." And then, not waiting to hear his answer- not wanting to hear it- I hurried into the kitchen.

I stood staring after Ryo as he hurried into the kitchen, not waiting for me to respond. My head spun at his bitter remark and I became aware that my mouth had fallen open in shock. Looking after himself, his grandparents dead, no one else? Why in the world hadn't he been put into a foster home or an orphanage until he was of age? How did he survive? I shook my head in disbelief; everyone he loved, dead, leaving him alone...cursed... safer away from him... how was one supposed to respond to something like that?

I struggled with the queston for several minutes, trying to think of what I would say when he came back out. I had to say something, I couldn't just ignore it and pretend nothing was wrong, but I had no experience in such things and felt very much out of my depth. After a while I became aware that not only was I getting nowhere, Ryo hadn't returned from the kitchen. I gave up on waiting for him and went quietly across the room to the kitchen door. I still didn't know what I was going to do, but I didn't think doing nothing was the right solution.

Ryo was standing next to the refrigerator, his hand clenched around the door handle so tightly that his knuckles had paled. His head was bowed and his face half-averted, but I could see that his eyes were shut. I paused in mid-step, then determinedly moved to his side and put a cautious hand on his shoulder. "Ryo-" I started, and then I couldn't think of anything else to say. 'I'm sorry', 'It must be awful for you', 'It's all right', 'I didn't mean to upset you' - pathetic, insulting. No. There was only one thing to say, so I took a deep breath and said it. "I don't think you're cursed- but even if you were, I wouldn't care. I won't leave you."

He flinched, turning further away from me and leaning his forehead briefly against the white refrigerator door beside him as my hand slid off his shoulder. He sighed, then straightened up and slowly pulled the door open. I watched silently as he pulled out the gallon of milk, moving as though it weighed a ton, and set it on the counter. The door swung closed of its own accord and Ryo reached up to grip the knob of the cabinet door. And stopped before he opened it. I still couldn't see his face, but I could almost feel the pain and grief swirling inside him. "My mother..." he said quietly, almost casually. "Then my father...he was murdered by poachers."

I gasped in shock- I couldn't help it. Murdered! My sympathy flared; stepping forward, I put my hand on his shoulder again and pressed hard, acutely aware of the tension in his muscles. Ryo turned his head slightly and I just felt his cheek brush the back of my hand before he straightened up again. "He was a wildlife photographer," he explained, his voice flat and emotionless. "He was never home much...but he never missed my birthdays or New Year, until... He- was trying to get pictures of snow leopards and he saw the poachers skinning a dead one. He took their pictures, meaning to turn them over to the authorities, but they saw him and-" I squeezed harder and he stopped. I could feel him trembling and moved even closer, for whatever good it might do. "We didn't learn about it for over a year. My grandfather had to go back to work, and Grandmother mostly took care of me..." He stopped again, gasping in a breath, then said shakily, "A few months later- he- when the trains derailed during the evening rush..."

I remembered, and winced. "Oh, no," I whispered. "Oh, Ryo..."

He nodded, his face twisting, and something in me reacted- the part that remembered how he'd soothed me out of my nightmare. I pulled him against me and held him tightly, feeling his hair like silk against my arm, the unusual heat of his shaking body, and the sudden discomfort in my upper arm as his hand clutched tightly on it. His other hand was balled in a fist against my chest and his head bowed against my shoulder. "M-my grandmother...I...it was only- a few months... came home and...and she..."

I closed my eyes against the horrible pain of a ten-year-old boy finding his grandmother dead on her bedroom floor and held my weeping friend as tightly as I could without choking him. "I'm sorry," I whispered. "I'm so sorry, niichan." Somehow I was smoothing his hair, knowing- without knowing how I knew- that it would calm him, that it was a gesture his grandparents had soothed him with when he was small.

It worked; after a while he quieted and the tension in his body gradually relaxed. I didn't let go of him, though- he needed more comfort than he would have readily admitted. It wasn't just his grief, it was the question that needed to be answered. "I won't leave you," I repeated softly. Ryo gave a little groan and his fist knotted in my shirt. "I won't," I murmured. "I won't leave you, niichan, not ever." Even as I said it, I knew I might not keep that promise. I meant to, I would try to, but fate has ways of breaking the most heartfelt promises. Everyone dies someday.

Ryo didn't reply, and I knew, with the same uncanny certainty, that he was accepting my feelings without really believing my words. He took it for the comfort it was intended as, not for the statement of fact that I wished it could be- and he was aware of how much I wished that it was a declaration of absolute certainty. He didn't rebuke me and tell me not to make a promise I couldn't keep, because he knew I would keep it as well as I possibly could.

It was very quiet as we stood there in the kitchen; the only sound I could hear was a faint ticking from the clock on the wall. Sunlight was coming in through the window over the sink, warming the side of my leg, and I felt oddly strong despite my hunger. Ryo's breathing evened out and at last he lifted his head from my shoulder, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand and sniffing. "See," he said shakily, meeting my gaze without the slightest hint of self-consciousness, "I t-told you you would."

"What?"

"Yesterday, when you said-"

"Ohhh." Yesterday, when I'd thanked him for comforting me and promised to do the same for him- in a heartbeat- if he ever needed it. When he'd said my chance would come, sooner or later. "Yes, you did. And you were right." I smiled and reached up to brush his bangs off his forehead. "Tell me something else: how in the world do you see where you're going?"

"Practice," he answered with a wobbly return smile. "A lot of practice. I-" He stopped and took a shaky breath, then said, "It'll be easier to show you. C'mon."

I followed him out of the kitchen and down the hall to his room. I hadn't been in there yet, and was a little surprised at how untidy it was, compared to the rest of the house. But Ryo obviously had his personal space arranged to exactly his liking, because he went directly to a particular pile and drew out a black-leather photo album. Sitting on the bed, he opened it; I moved to stand next to him, but didn't try to look down at the pictures. "Here," he said at last, and I turned to sit beside him, leaning over to look at the picture. And then I took a startled breath, understanding.

The woman in the picture was beautiful, with a delicate face, pointed chin, and a sweet, loving smile. But what caught my attention was her eyes- wide eyes of a shocking blue- and the black hair that framed her face, falling in gentle waves to her shoulders. "Your mother," I said softly, for there could be no doubt at all- the face was a feminized version of Ryo's own, and the eyes were totally unmistakeable.

"Yes," my friend whispered.

I looked up and pressed my hand gently against his temple, stroking his hair back. "And- this is how you honor her?"

Ryo bit his lip and nodded. "More or less. It sorta happened by accident, but I liked it and it seemed right... My father took the picture. It was right after she found out she was pregnant, and they had been talking about what to name me- and- and making plans..."

I put my arm around him and heard him sniff. "She was clearly very happy to think she'd be your mother," I offered, very softly.

Ryo rubbed his eyes again and nodded, sighing. "I wish...oh, I wish too much," he muttered, closing the book abruptly and standing up. "I can't help it- I know it isn't any use, but I do it anyway..." He turned as if to put the album back on the pile, then shook his head and moved towards the desk instead.

"I know what you mean," I remarked gravely, thinking of all the wishes I'd made about my own parents- and the General- and myself. "I do that a lot too."

I'll always wonder if what happened next might not have happened that day; might not have happened at all. It seemed like a pure accident, but later, we all wondered. Ryo turned as though to say something, but continued to reach towards the desk, the photo album in his outstretched hand. But instead of laying it on the desk, he accidentally knocked something off, something small and glassy that bounced over the floor and rolled to a stop against my foot. I leaned down and picked it up, totally unaware of what was about to happen next.

The glassy thing was an orb, rather resembling a good-luck charm, small enough to fit comfortably in one's hand. "It didn't break," I commented, leaning forward to hand it to Ryo, and then frowned at the red character that seemed- no, it wasn't etched into the glass, it seemed to hover at the center of the orb, and it was glowing. Jin? I wondered, reading the character. Wait a minute! This thing looks like- my orb, the one the old man on the train gave me-!

Ryo's hand closed over the orb and suddenly the room seemed to explode with red light, light that was enamating from the hand that held that innocent-looking glass ball! I flinched back, shielding my eyes-

And then the light faded and I looked up to ask what in the world that was all about and where had he gotten that orb and what did it mean- and Ryo was standing there in red and white body armor.

I must have sat staring for at least a minute, too stunned to say a word. He looked so different, like something out of a science-fiction book, alien and frightening, but his eyes were huge, his face stricken, and his outstretched empty- empty?- hand trembled even through the white metal glove. His lips parted and I thought he was going to speak- and wondered if he would sound as different as he looked- but he said nothing. I watched his eyes dart from the metal to me and then back again in uncertainty and realized he was almost as shocked as I was. But he's not surprised. He's had this happen before. That orb...

"Ryo?" I said at last, faintly, and his hand dropped to his side as he bit his lip.

"This- this wasn't supposed to happen!" he almost groaned, confirming my thought. "I- Sage, it's- damn it!" His fist struck the metal covering the side of his leg, and clanged. "I wanted to tell you- but it's supposed to be a secret, I- I don't know why it did this...!" He closed his eyes for a moment, obviously trying to regain some composure. I sat up straighter on the bed, looking him over with astonishment and a large dose of disbelief. An orb like mine, but red jin instead of green wisdom...an orb that flared red light and vanished, leaving the holder in armor...

"Where did the ball go?" I asked at last, and my voice trembled a little. Ryo gave me a rather odd look and I realized it was a peculiar thing to be asking.

"I don't know," he replied tiredly. "But when the armor comes, the orb disappears, and when the armor goes, the orb comes back."

"It glowed," I observed rather stupidly, because I had only half my mind on the conversation.

"Yes." Ryo hesitated again, shrugged, sighed, and began to explain something, but I wasn't listening. Could it be that my orb would do something similar? Could Ryo be, at last, the light at the end of my dark path, the 'righteousness' I was supposed to find, the one who would-

Somewhere deep in my memory, chimes sounded- the chiming of a winged staff. The Ancient One's voice rang clearly through the sound. "Seek Trust, and Justice, Life and Righteousness. They will care for you and protect you."

Care about me. Yes.

I gave myself a shake and looked up at him again. "I've seen an orb like that before," I interrupted, and Ryo stopped in mid-word, blinking. "But there wasn't any armor, and it never glowed so much- just a little."

My friend looked incredulous. "You have?.." he whispered, sinking down beside me on the bed. "When, how?"

"On the way from Sendai to Toyama. I was alone in the train when this old man came up-"

"Old man? With white hair? And in a robe, and the round hat, so you couldn't see his eyes?"

"Yes! And the staff-"

"The staff!" Ryo hissed. "The same! And then- he- he showed it to you? The orb?"

"He gave it to me," I replied, also speaking softly. "I still have it, it's at home, I used to take it out and think about him, it made me feel a little better."

Ryo took a long breath, all of the dismay vanishing from his face. He looked like someone had just handed him something he'd been longing for but never expected to get: exultant, but not quite believing it. "Which one is it?"

"Which-? It's, it's green and the sign is wisdom. Ryo, what is it, what are they?" I burst out, clutching his arm. The metal under my fingers was warmer than I expected.

"It's the Ronin armor," he murmured. "Green, wisdom- you're the Ronin of Light, Sage! You're Halo!"

"Halo," I said aloud, thoughtfully. "Light...wisdom? I know I joked about turning wise, but... and- what's a Ronin? And who's Trust and Justice and Life? And you, what's-?"

"Whoa, whoa." Ryo smiled suddenly, holding up his metal-covered hands, then looked at them and frowned a little. "So that's it. My orb must have recognized you as another orb-bearer and armored me up so I'd have to explain it to you!" He shook his head, his mouth twisting wryly. "Manipulative thing, scaring us both half to death... Off!" I blinked as another flare of red light shone through the room, and this time when it faded, Ryo was back in his regular clothes, the orb resting in his hand. "Okay," he said, looking at me, "now, this is what I've figured out so far."