You have so much more than just approval from me; don't you know that?

No... I think I used to know it. But even before Rowen turned up, you never called me brother... What do you mean by 'more than approval', anyway? 

I put my pen down on the desk and stared at the words I had written: the thoughts that had leaped into my mind this afternoon when Ryo asked his unexpected question of me. Things I hadn't dared to say, hadn't even really wanted to, but that were far truer than the hesitant, 'Well, yes, I do know,' that I had responded with. 

In other words, I had lied. 

To Ryo. To the one person I should never, ever deceive...

But it was better this way. Jealousy is an ugly thing and the last thing I wanted to do was admit mine to Ryo, or suggest that I was having doubts about his friendship. If I couldn't keep my place as his friend, I could at least make sure he still respected me- approved of me- and telling him that I often wished Rowen had never come to Japan didn't seem likely to achieve that. Neither did mentioning that the time the three of us spent together made me feel alone and left out; that would probably result in a brief, "Well, that's your own fault, you ought to try speaking up now and again. All you do is sit there and listen, and it's kind of dull." Harsh words, but that was how I felt these days: dull, uninteresting. Tolerated, because Ryo and Rowen were nice guys and didn't want people picking on me- even accepted, because we were all 'the different ones'- but even in our little group, I was the outsider. 

And yet, today, on an impulse, I had told Ryo why the General's constant belittlements hardly registered with me anymore. Today he had called me niisan and said he wished he could take me home with him. He'd hugged me. That was a lot more than mere approval, but had he done it because he felt close to me, or only because he'd somehow sensed what I wasn't saying? Had he been sincere, or just nice? 

I picked up the pen and wrote again. Why don't you ever tell Rowen to leave us alone for a while? Or is your wish that I would leave you and Rowen alone for a while so you could have it like it was when I was out sick? You prefer his company, don't you? You'll make do with me when he's not around, but when he is, it's all about him...

Hateful words. I could never say them, shouldn't be thinking them. I ought to be grateful that these two were willing to include me, be friendly to me. Wasn't that what I had wanted more than anything- for people to be nice to me? I'd thought it would never happen, and now I was sulking because my friends liked each other more than they liked me. Arrogant. And stupid. Ryo would be disgusted if he knew; Rowen would look at me with that amused, contemptuous look that he so often gave the ruder students, the 'oh, don't we think we're hot stuff ' look. 

Amazing how he could cut someone down like that without saying a word. It must be an American thing. 

Sighing, I put my pen back in the desk drawer, picked up the paper, and tore it into pieces, and smaller pieces, and smaller yet, until it was too small to tear anymore. I brushed the little paper snowflakes off my desk and into the trash can, turned off the desk light, got up, and moved quietly back to my bed, suddenly aware that I was shivering. Sliding under the blanket, I curled up and gazed resignedly at the glowing clock. One-thirty in the morning. Maybe now I'd be able to fall asleep, instead of wearing my mind out with ugly, immature, rude, ungrateful thoughts...

I wasn't very awake the next morning, but one didn't need to be very awake to notice the unexpected piles of fresh snow outside. I wasn't too surprised that the weather service hadn't forecasted correctly, but I was annoyed and a little apprehensive, and hurried downstairs to find out whether school was still in session or not. The General had the kitchen radio on and I halted in the doorway, listening to the reports of fouled traffic and delayed trains for a few moments before the school information was announced. Hearing that all students who could safely report to class were to do so, I breathed a mental sigh of relief and hurried to collect my things and depart. Jealous or not, school was a far better place to spend the day than that house.

A few flakes were still drifting down as I stepped out into the icy early-morning darkness, but the majority of the snowstorm had passed and the air was calm. As I reached the bottom of the driveway, wading through glittering snow that was higher than my knees, I heard a loud motor and turned to see a plow sweep by. That made things much easier, and I walked most of the way to school in the relatively clear road, though there was still an inch or two of snow coating the asphalt.

I noticed a number of snow fights taking place as I reached Hanai, but fortunately, no one decided to get me involved with any of them. I brushed my pants and boots off in the entry, then hurried up to my locker, noticing along the way that the school wasn't nearly as crowded as usual. I also noticed Rowen, leaning against his locker and looking decidedly discontent- but I didn't see Ryo. I stopped, to be polite, and said "Good morning."

"That depends on your definition of good," was Rowen's sour reply. "Personally, I think the morning would be better without having to walk through knee-deep snow to get to school, but that's just my opinion."

"I have to agree," I admitted ruefully. "A little snow is fine, but this bunch is too deep- it kept getting down my boots, and now my feet are all wet."

"Oh, you want less snow? I was thinking more along the lines of closing school and letting everyone stay home. Especially since it looks like a lotta kids can't get here anyway." Rowen looked rather pointedly up and down the hall. "What with trains late or stalled and busses stranded..."

"I'd rather be in school than at home," I muttered without thinking, and then, as Rowen glanced curiously at me, I changed the subject. "Ryo probably won't make it in today, you know- his town is at a higher altitude than Toyama, so he probably got more snow than we did." I didn't mention that this was recent knowledge for me. 

"Oh." Rowen nodded. "I hope he's okay..."

"I'm sure he's fine," I said reassuringly. "He's lived there all his life, he's used to the weather. He's probably not too happy about it, though." I paused, wondering where that last thought had come from. In all likelihood, he and White Blaze were thoroughly enjoying their unexpected holiday.

"Why not? He'll get to sleep in, the lucky," Rowen murmured. "Anyway, go take care of your wet boots before the bell goes off," he directed suddenly, and I nodded and went to do that.

It was an oddly dull morning. No one seemed very alert, not even the teachers, and the classes dragged. The only thing that caught my interest was the few students who came hurrying in throughout first class- it made me think that Ryo might have made it in after all. So instead of putting my head down to doze during the break, as most of the other students were doing, I walked down to Ryo's classroom to see if he'd turned up. Rowen was standing in the hall, looking half-asleep and as moody as ever; he shook his head without a word when he saw me and my spirits dropped. I hadn't realized how much I'd been hoping to see Ryo, and it gave me a sudden insight as to how he might have felt while I was out sick. I stood quietly by Rowen for a few moments, glad for the company- however cranky it might be. "Well," I said at last, just before the bell rang, "see you for lunch?"

Rowen brightened noticeably. "Sure," he said amiably, and gave me a little wave as he turned to go back inside. I returned to my own room and took my seat, wondering if he would get through the day without falling asleep in class. 

Third and fourth class went by a little less slowly than the first two had, not that this was much of an improvement. The fact that the teachers didn't trouble to wake anyone who nodded off is a pretty good indicator of how lazy everyone was feeling. I seemed to be the lone exception; I was gloomy and bored, but I felt awake enough- surprising, after how late I'd gotten to sleep- and I spent a considerable amount of time during the class before lunch wondering if it might somehow be related to the Halo armor. Both the Ancient One and Dr. Yagyu (in his book) had referred to Halo as the armor of light, and in fact, the doctor had debated briefly over whether 'light' could be categorized as an element or simply as energy. It was a good question, and it made me wonder how different my armor might be from the other four, but I didn't think it accounted for my lack of fatigue. It made sense that Halo would get energy from light, and might even be able to pass it on to the bearer- namely, me- but that was hardly likely to happen when I was in class and the orb was in my dresser drawer, nearly a mile away. 

That train of thought led to another, one I should have had before: since Halo took its power from light, perhaps I ought to find some way to keep the orb in a sunny place. Leaving it in the dark didn't seem like a very sensible thing to do and might actually drain strength from it. Perhaps that was why I was having so much trouble summoning the full armor. I had managed the 'undercoat' of white and green, once, but hadn't had the privacy to try it again. And Ryo had said that the full armor required a fair bit of energy the first few times...maybe if he'd put the Rekka orb into the fire a few times, it wouldn't have been so hard. Then again, perhaps it was simply lack of practice on my part, not lack of light. Still, it would hardly hurt to give the orb access to solar energy- if I could just find somewhere private to leave it!

I was just thinking that I needed to re-read the doctor's book when the lunch bell went off and several sleeping students knocked their chairs over backwards at the shock of noise. I didn't join in the laughter that followed, only gathered up my books, put the question of orb and armor into the back of my mind, and went out to meet Rowen for lunch. 

He was waiting for me, already seated on the floor, and he looked up and smiled as I sat down across from him. The last echoes of hurrying feet died away as I opened up my lunch bag, and the sudden silence was welcome- for a moment. Then, as I looked up, a sense of awkwardness came over me. It seemed rude to sit and eat with a companion and yet say nothing, as if I were snubbing him- but I couldn't think of anything to talk about. Fortunately, Rowen had no such difficulty. The first thing he did was to ask me about my tournament, which I thought was very nice of him to show interest in, and that gave me the chance to ask if he had a favorite sport. I was surprised to learn that he liked archery, and he told me a bit about that before we drifted to other topics. I took the opportunity to ask him about a few American customs that I had read about, and I noticed- not for the first time, but with more attention- that his sense of humor, like mine, tended towards the sarcastic. A little later, led by his yawns, I asked if students had fallen asleep in his classes, too. 

"I almost drifted off myself, last class," he replied with a grin, "but the fellow beside me was snoring so loud, it just wasn't possible."

I had to laugh at the way he said it, but I was feeling the keen bite of jealousy again. It must be so nice to be able to talk about anything with anyone and not feel self-conscious! No wonder Ryo liked him. And at the same time, I felt a strange regret: all those afternoons when I had sat near them, half-listening and feeling left out...this was what I had been missing, for no better reason than because I'd been too stiff-necked to get involved in the conversations myself. 'But he wouldn't be talking like this with me if Ryo was here. He never has before- and Ryo's never been absent before. Face it, they prefer each other's company, and that makes me the consolation prize when one of them is not around.' I sighed. 'Still, there's worse things to be, I guess.'

"Say, I just remembered something," Rowen said suddenly, attracting my attention again. "There was somethin' I wanted to ask you about, something Ryo said to me that I can't make any kinda sense out of. I was gonna ask him to explain, but now I'm thinking you'd be the one to know- you know him real well, and you're probably a lot more objective about it than he is."

I wasn't sure if that was a compliment or otherwise, but decided to take it as one. "I'll help if I can," I answered politely, and took the last bite of my sandwich.

"Well...see, what he said- how it went was, while you were in the cafeteria, a couple days ago, we were talking about stuff. Friends, and customs and so on... and he told me that he thinks you and I have a lot in common."

At first I thought I had heard him wrong. Then I saw his puzzled frown and knew I hadn't. But it didn't make any sense at all. Ryo thought...that Rowen and I-?

"Yeah," Rowen commented, watching me. "That was my reaction- what the heck is he thinking?"

I nodded, wondering exactly the same thing. Ryo wouldn't say something like that without reason, but what in the world would make him think Rowen and I were similar? Rowen was American, I was Japanese. Mostly. He was a product of his culture, I was a product of ours. He didn't bother with fitting in; I wanted nothing more than to fit in... he was strange, talkative, outgoing; I was quiet, properly reserved and sensible. We didn't even have common interests- except for our friendships with Ryo, and I really wished we didn't even have that. "Strange," I murmured after a moment or so. "I don't know why he would say that. He wasn't being ironic, was he?"

Rowen shook his head. "He was totally serious. I just can't see it at all- okay, well, the obvious thing, but aside from that..."

I pondered that for another moment and finally had to ask, "The obvious thing?"

Rowen looked at me and then away, gathering up the remains of his lunch. "Yeah. You know. The...namecalling." 

That took me with my defenses down, and before I quite knew what I was doing, I said, "But you are a gaijin. They don't mean any harm when they call you that, it's just a- an observation."

"Some of them don't say it to be cruel," he corrected me clinically, looking up. "But some of 'em do. You can tell, the way they say it. Sneer it. And even if they aren't trying to be mean, it gets pretty wearing, hearin' you're a foreigner all the time. Like, yeah, I've heard that a couple million times now, can we focus on something else?" Rowen paused and frowned. "But what really gets me is the way people act. As if they might pick up some nasty disease unless they keep a minimum distance from me. I dunno, they seem to rate foreign with contagious, and of course no self-respecting Japanese would want that." He shrugged. "No offense, but there does seem to be this, this superiority complex here."

Superiority complex. I blinked, wondering why I'd never seen it that way myself. Of course, it was all about who was superior and who was inferior. Younger was inferior to older, females were inferior to males, honor and courtesy were superior to everything...and foreigners and mixed-breed bastards were at the very bottom of the ladder. Naturally foreigners, who couldn't be expected to know any better, were still superior to the half-breeds... It had never occurred to me that any of them might find being labeled 'foreign' all the time a trial to their patience, or feel that the friendly condescension they received was insulting. And Rowen was right about people keeping their distance, too; I knew how that was! 

"That's all true," I said at last, realizing he was waiting for me to respond. "It's...quite unkind."

"So we both know more about that than we'd like to," he said dryly. "And- come to think of it, we both traveled a pretty long way to get here. Though I think I've got you beat by a couple miles." His smile was almost bitter. "New York's a lot further away than Sendai."

I blinked again, suddenly remembering what we had been talking about. Similarities. And he was right about that one, too- to a point. "But you came with your parents," I reminded him. "My mother sent me to her father."

"Yes, well, at least you've got a grandfather," was Rowen's reply. "My mom's been home three days out of the past fifteen. My dad's a bit better, he gets home around ten, maybe eleven every night, so I might get to say hi as I'm falling asleep. And some days I see him for about fifteen minutes in the morning, if he's running late."

At least I have a-? I felt a surge of anger, but held it back. He knew nothing of the General, after all; I'd never even suggested that my relationship with the old man was anything but amiable. Maybe it was time I did. "I'd rather have your parents than my grandfather," I said grimly. "And I wish I saw as much- as little- of him as you do of your parents."

One of Rowen's eyebrows went up. "Oh?"

"He's..." I hesitated, discretion warring with honesty. "He's- very strict. Very old-fashioned and rigid in his thinking."

"Stodgy old man, huh?"

"Stodgy?" I repeated, and a ridiculous mental image of a stout, balding, gray-chinned old man with glasses stooping over a cane flicked through my mind. As unlike the General as summer was unlike winter... "I wouldn't say that. He still participates in tournaments himself."

"Oh. Well, at least he goes out and does stuff with you, 'stead of acting like you don't exist. I suppose it could get smothering-"

"He wishes I don't exist!" I retorted hotly, stung past discretion and proper grammar. Hearing Rowen speak of the cruel old man as if he was a benevolent and overindulgent grandfather and I was the one who didn't appreciate a good thing inflamed my temper. "Your parents may be busy, but they don't call you disgrace to the name or-" I shut my mouth, trying to hold back my angry words. It wasn't any of Rowen's business, and why should I care what he thought of the General?

Because what he thought of the General reflected what he thought of me...and for some reason, that was important. 

"Or?" Rowen asked quietly. I looked away from his eyes, and then, reconsidering, looked straight at him. 

"Or- the dirty crossbreed who will never amount to anything." I heard the words hang in the air, and was appalled. I hadn't really meant to say them.

This time, both of Rowen's eyebrows lifted; then his eyes narrowed. "Really. One of those 'sins of the fathers' morons?"

"What?"

"People who blame a kid for what their parents do. As if the kid had any choice in the matter."

"Oh. Yes. Like that," I said rather weakly, my head still reeling from my impetuous remark. "Morons?"

"Well, anyone who allows themself to believe something so stupid deserves the title," Rowen explained coolly. 

I really liked how he said that.

"Now my parents- they've never called me names, but that's because I never give 'em the chance to," he went on slowly. "If they knew- if Dad knew I understood all his research and had thought up some ways to improve it- and he's got a doctorate in physics... I don't wanna be considered a freak of nature and treated like- like a walking computer. I got that at school all the time, I don't want it from my folks. People don't like computers; they sure don't love 'em. So I keep quiet. Being extra smart ain't acceptable, you know- you're supposed to fit nice and neat into the bracket they pick out for you, not go having individualistic fantasies." He shrugged. "I've never been convinced they really wanted me anyway, so I think I better not give 'em any...excuses, you know?"

I stared at him for at least a minute, not sure how to respond. "I see," I managed at last. "Yes...I- I gave my mother an...excuse, and, so, now..."

"So now you're here, with a grandfather who calls you names and considers you a disgrace," Rowen finished for me, sympathetically. I nodded, my head spinning. Was I really telling him these things, pulling the words out, tacitly admitting the feelings that went with them? "And in this culture, even a tiny hint of an excuse would be enough..." He trailed off and I thought, distractedly, that he wasn't nearly so unsubtle as I had thought he was.

"My... father..." I bit my lip as pain twisted my throat. I wasn't supposed to call him that, but that was what he had been to me and I refused to give that up. "He was a policeman. He was killed, and Mother wouldn't let me go to his funeral, and that made me so mad that I was rude to her every day after that. So she sent me away to the General, for discipline."

Rowen's hand rested on my arm. "I hate this country," he said conversationally, and I looked up from the floor in surprise. "I hate how everyone's supposed to all conform and not ever make personal choices or have individual preferences. You're all s'posed to think alike and talk alike and do everything right and do your duty before anything else. And I hate how all this superficial courtesy covers up so much bigotry and intolerance and superiority. I hate this 'the elders are always right' crap and I totally despise this shit about blaming a kid for things their parents do and punishing someone for getting born a certain way and putting so much emphasis on this totally bogus, outdated, archaic honor bullshit. It makes hypocrites out of people- willing ones, which is a hell of a lot worse than unwitting ones. Here, if you do this and this and this, then you're honorable- even if it means you completely destroy someone else's hopes and self-esteem." He took a deep breath. "Yeah, the nail that sticks out gets pounded down, all right, and no one ever asks the nail if it wanted to stick out in the first place. It didn't put itself there, so why should it be pounded and dominated and disciplined like that? Conform: I hate that word." He paused again and gave me a strange half-smile. "This is no place for a rebel like me. And it's no place for you, either."

I couldn't think of a thing to say- it was too much, too fast, I couldn't take it in. Just keeping Rowen's facts and opinions straight was enough of a challenge, without the intensity of emotions added to it- and I was feeling many intense emotions. But two things were coming through plainly: his remark about people being punished because they were born a certain way clearly meant me. He, like Ryo, didn't think the attitudes I received were fair or right. And that led me to the second thought: Ryo was right. Rowen and I did have a number of things in common- and none of them were very pleasant things. Uncaring or unloving parents, distance from home, isolation from peers...loneliness, mockery, fear of rejection. Longing to be accepted. And we had both cultivated attitudes to cover the pain we had to endure. Rowen's mask of cheerful brazenness was in no way similar to my own 'polite' indifference- except that it was only a cover. Underneath... 

"I seem to have overwhelmed you," Rowen's voice said ruefully through my tumultuous thoughts. "Sorry. It's been kinda building up since I got here. Didn't mean to get into rant mode."

"It's a lot to think about," I admitted, looking at him and wondering what 'rant mode' was. "But I think Ryo was right, after all. We are similar. You know, he was the first to- to ever say that the way people treat me is wrong... and now you're the second, and... thank you. For whatever it's worth. And you're completely right: this is no place for us." I sighed, dismayed at how badly I was doing at expressing myself. But Rowen smiled, a very nice little smile that I'd never seen before. Usually there was more than a hint of ironic humor in his smiles. 

"That's why I like Ryo. He's got real honor. He's not afraid to disagree with people and stand up for folks who're getting the treatment, as he calls it. I really admire that." His hand shifted slightly on my arm. "And you're welcome. We outcasts, we gotta stick together against the closemindeds and intolerants. And I think we'll enjoy our company a lot more than they'll enjoy theirs. They," he added, lifting his hand to the blue forelock that had fallen across his face, "probably all start to sound like broken records after a while, not daring to say anything original or thought-provokin'."

"I would have to agree," I remarked; "you've given me more to think about in ten minutes than anyone else has in a month."

"What, only a month?" Rowen shook his head, grinning, and his hair fell into his eyes again. "Dang, I'm losin' my touch!"

"Well, this is school," I reminded him. "One is required to think about different things here."

"True," Rowen started, and then clamped his hands over his ears as the bell suddenly shrilled out. "Like how to put a muffler on that stupid bell," he suggested after the sound died away.

"Or maybe, to find a better place to sit," I suggested, standing up. I felt weird, disoriented; it seemed very strange to look up and down the empty hall and see the familiar lockers and classroom doors around me. Our discussion had taken me somewhere else and now, quite suddenly, I was back in reality, with the afternoon classes ahead of me. "Good luck staying awake," I added as the first wave of students came hurrying up the stairs towards their classrooms.

"You too," Rowen replied, and stood as well. "See you in the library."

"Yes," I agreed, and turned to walk back to my classroom, glad that I would have to focus on something other than the remarkable things Rowen had said, and wishing I didn't have to go to class so I could think more about what Rowen had said.

Not really such a surprise that I could like someone yet simultaneously be jealous of them, when you think about it. Rowen tries to tell me it's perversity, but I always explain that it's a symptom of open-mindedness and he wouldn't want me to be too rigid in my thinking, now would he? 

Funny, I always win that debate, yet I usually end up ducking something that he throws at me in the process. He hates being out-logicked. Don't you, Ro?