So I was right: my second year at Hanai was infinitely better than my first one. 

That's not to say there weren't exasperations and inconveniences and things to complain about at times. The homework load alone guaranteed a fair share of complaining, and of course there are always going to be days when things just won't go as well as you'd like them to. But those were few and far between, and the biggest complaint either of us had about school (after too much homework!) was how routine it was and how easy it was to get bored doing the same things every day. It could have been a good deal worse, though. The bullies, for example- they did try to make some additional difficulties for both Kento and I, but after we made a few things clear, they left us alone. My private martial arts lessons continued, you see, and a fairly small demonstration of how well I'd learned and what a good teacher Kento was persuaded them to look for easier victims. Especially since we also made it clear that messing with one of us meant messing with both of us.

It was Kento who brought the soccer team to my attention. I'd been vaguely aware that there were other sports besides swimming, but I rarely took the time to attend the matches on Saturdays, since that was also when the swim team met. I wasn't on it yet, of course, but I did like to watch and it was useful to know what times I'd have to beat in competition. 

I did notice a certain amount of excitement and gossip making the rounds the Monday after the soccer team's second match, but it wasn't until I got down to lunch with Kento that I learned all about Saturday's remarkable game. It seems a particularly talented first-year student had not quite single-handedly won the match for our school. A certain Sanada Ryo, who was now respectfully being addressed as Sanada-san. 

[No, Ryo, I never called you that- neither did Kento. What did we call you? 'Our star player'. Unless we were in a hurry; then it was just 'our star.' Kento started it, saying you were star quality or star material or something of the sort.]

It was at the first home-match, two weeks later, that we both became what you might call 'dedicated fans' of Ryo's- the match where the other team played so rough and made so many deliberate fouls...and still lost. Fair play is a big part of Kento's philosophy and he quite gloated over the final score. We missed the confrontation afterwards, but it was all over school the next day, how 'our star' had also stood up to several of the bullies on another student's behalf. (It was another week before Kento stopped muttering about how much he wished he'd been there to see it and maybe put in a few words of his own. I rather wished that myself.) That was the- clincher, I think the word is. Skill is all very well, but 'star quality' is an entirely different matter.

Not that being dedicated fans meant making pests of ourselves. I have it on the best of authority that Ryo wasn't even aware of our existences, as we did our admiring from a distance and didn't have what Rowen calls a conniption fit whenever we passed 'our star' in the halls. Not that that happened often, but I did several times see him hanging out with the blond boy I'd noticed on my first day. Later the blue-haired American (everyone in the school knew Rowen by that title) joined them, and I liked the fact that he- Sanada- had befriended another who might otherwise be derided for being different. I was just a little bit sensitive on the topic of 'differentness.'

I think that's the right word..? Close enough.

On the topic of differences: Kento surprised me one night in September... I think it was still the first week of school... anyway, he asked why I'd never told him about my famous ancestor. Apparently someone in his class passed that bit of information to him. Taken aback, I explained my belief that what one's ancestors did shouldn't matter nearly as much as what one did themself, especially when there were several centuries between you. Kento thought that over, agreed, and to my relief, seemed to forget all about it. I would not have liked it if he'd changed his behavior towards me for such a trivial reason. Not that I mean to put down Motonori, but he was long gone and really didn't have anything to do with my friendships.

So as far as school went, things were positive. Classes went fairly well; my little swimming students all improved; and Kento outstripped (what a strange word, I think I'll amend that to surpassed) everyone in his Kendo class and earned his brown belt before winter break. I advanced more slowly, since I was only getting lessons three days a week, on average. Kento refused to push me as hard as he pushed himself, for one thing, and then studying really did take up an awful lot of perfectly good practice-time. 

Maybe it was a sign of what was to come, but at the time we thought it was just an early and severe winter- one does get those, some years. The September days were perpetually dark and gloomy and it rained a great deal. October and November brought bitter cold and strong winds more suited to January, and early snow- early and often, frequently mixed with ice. I was very glad Grandfather-san had good central heating and plenty of blankets. (It's all suiko's doing that I don't notice cold water, yet don't like cold air at all.) But apart from the weather itself, that winter was a good one, without even a hint of the gloominess that had affected me so much the previous year. At school I was content, most of the time; at home with Kento and Grandfather-san, I was happiness itself. It was easy to be happy there, with such good company. 

Grandfather-san was a very kind man; he was traditional in many respects, yet I found him very easy to talk to and soon discovered that he had a sense of humor not unlike Kento's. I really don't know how he managed to strike such a balance, but I enjoyed his company a lot. He was the first adult I'd known that I considered more 'friend' than- well, 'adult'. I mean, he was an adult, quite an old one in fact, but he was a friend first. He always was up early to cook breakfast for us, and sometimes made lunches for us to take to school as well. He assigned us the easiest, least time-consuming chores in the house, saying that we would need most of our time to study (we did!) and that he needed something to do at home all day. And he was always willing to stop what he was doing and help us with whatever we needed. A question about homework, a misplaced possession, a request for advice... I think it made him feel pleased, valued, that we wanted his opinions and input. 

Of course he wasn't a saint, no more than we were cherubs. He nagged about homework- it was like a fixation with him- and fussed now and then about this or that not done or staying up too late or not being sparing enough with the hot water...things like that. But he never scolded us harshly, nor did he ever treat us to lectures about how American influence was ruining our generation. Quite the contrary, in fact; he was remarkably open-minded about it. He liked pizza, hamburgers and fries, and fried chicken, and had a real weakness for apple pie with vanilla ice cream. His only complaint was that so much of American food was fried; he said it was fattening. 

He also enjoyed a wide variety of music: traditional Japanese flute music, Scottish bagpipes, Indian pipes, Italian operas, 'nature' music to meditate by, Christmas music, The Beatles, the 'American Graffitti' soundtrack, jazz, country...I learned 'The Devil Went Down to Georgia' in his house, he was very fond of the fiddle section and I was intrigued by it too...the first dozen times. He even liked some of the later 80's rock music. You never knew just what you'd hear when he turned on the stereo and put a CD or tape in, but you knew what you wouldn't hear: rap music. 

Grandfather-san's greatest interest- his primary hobby, as he put it- was flowers. The winter made it impossible for him to work in his little backyard garden, but he had pots and urns of plants all over the house, and piles of books about flowers. I knew something about arranging cut flowers, thanks to Mother's friends, but he taught me a great deal more about actually growing them. He had no interest in bonsai, though- no blossom. His other, and more expensive fascination was antiques. He loved visiting antique stores, mostly to look at the treasures and talk wth the owners, who knew him well, but occasionally he would buy a beautiful old item to add to his collection. He really had a remarkable assortment of old things: in wood, copper, bronze, glass, stone and ceramic. Also steel, he had a few old pieces of samurai weapons that interested me and Kento a great deal. He gave us a little lecture about them one Sunday, even taking down the pieces and demonstrating several old-fashioned moves that had fallen out of favor over the years, remarking in passing that his old sensei would be pleased that he remembered.

"Though the memory is the only thing he would find to praise. He often shook his head over me. I never amounted to much. You must have got all the potential I never had," he added wryly to Kento, who looked surprised.

Later, when we were taking a break from studying, I asked my friend why he'd looked so puzzled. "I didn't know- I just never thought about it," he replied softly. "Ma's the one for kendo and stuff, so I just figured Pop's family wasn't into it...but it's made me think, there's a lot I don't know about him." He frowned a little. "We only visit a few times a year, and- well, to be honest, we kids were always terribly bored. It was always grown-up talk, you know? And way-formal behavior."

"Really?" That surprised me. 

Kento nodded. "He was nice enough, in a way, but he wasn't...friendly like this. Just an old guy we had to be on our best behavior with. I didn't know he had a sense of humor till- I dunno, last year, when he laughed at something Sprout said. I was shocked, I'd never heard him laugh before. But that was after Pop left... See, Pop brought him home to talk to me- it was after the Jade Incident-" Kento rolled his eyes and I nodded sympathetically. He'd told me about it. "And after a while Pop left to get back to work and things just...loosened up. So I guess it affects Grandfather, too." 

"I think you've lost me," I admitted.

"Pop's the formal one in the family," Kento explained, lying back on his futon and looking over at me. "Ma's all relaxed, and she did most of the looking after us, so we got raised relaxed, too. Unless Pop was around, then it was serious 'watch your behavior' time. So I guess whenever we visited here, Pop put on his manners real heavy, and Grandfather kinda went along with it."

"Ohh," I said, enlightened. "Yes, I see what you mean now. It wouldn't do to be light and casual when the younger generations were being so formally courteous."

"Right." Kento sighed. "Kinda sad, really. Pop misses out on a lot, being like that. People aren't too comfortable around him anyway, and he doesn't make it any easier by being all stiff and proper."

"That must have skipped a generation too, that ability to get along with people," I mused, getting up from my seat at the desk and joining him on the futon. "From Grandfather-san to you."

"Guess so. I always thought I got it from Ma," he replied quietly. "I need to call 'em again..." I patted him gently and he smiled and then yawned and sat up, saying he'd better get back to the homework before he fell asleep. I agreed, got up, and returned to my chair, and soon the room was silent again.

We had a lot of quiet talks like that...learning more about each other, sharing things, keeping company. Invariably in Kento's room, because that was where we both did our homework. As he'd promised, Kento brought up a chair and put it at the end of his desk, moving the lamp so it was in the middle and taking the other end as his own work area. I suppose one of us could have gone down to the dining area and worked there, there would have been more room- but the blunt truth is that we wanted to be together. That was part of the whole point of having me live with them: being able to see each other, share company, after the school-day was over. And it was handy. Sometimes Kento would get stuck- usually in dreaded math- and then I would stop what I was doing and work with him for a bit. It never took long to get it straightened out; Kento may not be Rowen, but he doesn't lack brains. Or sometimes I would be baffled by something- English, often- and he would help me out. We would take breaks together too, stopping between one subject and other to have a snack or wrap up in a blanket or just let our brains rest for a little while. And when the homework was done and the books put away, we'd sit or flop on his futon, sharing the blanket, and just talk about things until it was time to go to bed. 

You wouldn't think, considering all the talking we'd done at home- in Hagi- that we'd be able to find so much more to talk about in Toyama, but that wasn't the case at all. There's only so much you can say in two weeks, no matter how fast or frequently you talk. Human lives are just too complicated, and I think too random, to communicate all one's feelings and experiences in such a short time.

We did both experience homesick feelings now and again, and I think that surprised Kento. It didn't surprise me, I was simply glad that those depressing feelings were neither as frequent nor as intense as they had been the previous year. But Kento seemed to have arrived in Toyama thinking he'd have a brief initial adjustment and then be completely content in his grandfather's house, not missing his home and his familiar mountains at all. It makes me blush to say it, but I think my presence in the house was supposed to have a lot to do with that. That was why he was so quick to get me over there; how could he be unhappy with his best friend right there? But he did get homesick, not often, but occasionally, and that was one of the reasons we stuck together so much. He was growing quite fond of his grandfather, but it was me he came to when he was blue and lonely. I did my best to cheer him up, and was usually successful, but it had its tricky moments. Sometimes talking about his home and family helped; other times it just made things worse, so I had to be a little careful about that. 

Kento had it easier with me. When I was homesick, the cure was a little spoiling- like a nice hot cup of tea, a pillow and a blanket, maybe something to snack on- and a couple hugs. It was probably the hugs, more than anything; hugs were things I still wasn't quite used to, but liked quite a lot. The attention was nice, but the open affection was better.

So between doing homework together, easing each other's homesick fits, working in the kitchen together (we often made dinner for Grandfather-san since he provided us with breakfast and lunch, and it was a welcome break from homework), and my training, we spent a lot of time in company. We also spent a little time wandering around the city when we had the homework taken care of, but after it got so cold and snowy, it was more pleasant to just stay home. Yet neither of us got what one would call tired of each other. It's true we sometimes needed a little privacy, but mostly we both felt more content being with each other than not. I believe that was the mental bond at work again, though of course we still didn't really know about that. Neither of us was much surprised when we began finishing each other's sentences; we figured it was a normal effect of being together so often.

It's funny that with all the talking we did, we rarely spoke of the armor. Of course we didn't want Grandfather-san to hear us, and the walls were quite thin- sheer paper, in some cases- but even when there was time and privacy for it, we still didn't discuss it. Kento continued to teach me to fight and I got quite good at it, especially considering that I was on land instead of in the water. In fact, it did a lot to smooth out my awkwardness and I had fewer bruises from bumping into things. But even though those skills I was learning were meant to be used against the enemy that would come, we never really discussed the matter. I never summoned the gear or armor, either, not until I was back in Hagi during the spring vacation and swimming again. I think I was afraid someone might overhear us or accidentally observe the change, and I guess there was a superstitious aspect as well. 

I suppose it's a side effect of being raised near the sea. Sailors and fishermen tend to be superstitious, which is not unnatural when you're around such a powerful and unpredictable element as the ocean daily. One of the things you don't do is mention how good your luck has been, either with weather or with your catch, because the sea might decide to make an object lesson of you and drop a storm on you that leaves your hold full of salt water instead of fish. And you don't mention the ill-luck that might strike you, either, because of course as soon as you do, you're bound to get a dose of it almost immediately. There's no better way to guarantee a squall than by saying something like, "the last thing we need now is for the weather to turn foul." Or if you mention, "as long as the nets hold out", you know you'll be repairing badly torn nets for the next few days. 

So- I'm no sailor, but I still found it natural not to say much about the coming battle. Mentioning the evil Demons and the armor we'd use to fight them with might get their attention and make them decide to do something unpleasant to us. 

Which is not to say I was as calm about the possibility as that sounds. Actually, the thought terrified me, which is another reason I tried not to think about it much. That, and I was stubbornly determined to be as 'ordinary' as I could, for as long as I could. I wasn't quite in denial, but I guess I wasn't too far from it, either. So I concentrated on everything that made up 'ordinary' life. Winter passed, the year turned, spring came, exams landed on us like a pile of bricks- they were brutal that year and I was so relieved when they were over and I got home to Hagi that it was almost a full week before I started to miss Toyama and Kento and Grandfather-san. 

That summer was- bizarre. The weather was weird, nearly a hundred one day and not getting above forty the next. Quite a few trees had their leaves change color and drop off in the middle of July, which had never happened before, and several species of autumn flowers came out early as well. Thunderstorms aren't anything unusual in Hagi, but the ones we had that summer blew up literally out of nowhere, moved against the prevailing winds, and practically bristled with lightning that seemed to take deliberate aim at objects on the ground. And the tides were absolutely impossible, peaking before they should and then refusing to ebb for several hours; people scratched their heads and talked about changes in the sea bed, but no one really knew how to explain it...except, maybe, me, and I kept my mouth shut. 

Well, really, who would have believed me? Aside from Mother, that is...

The fishing was bad, too, and there were far fewer seagulls than normal. And the ones that were around were unusually aggressive, a few even going so far as to dive-bomb people who were holding food and snatch it away. I didn't see a dolphin near shore the entire summer, and I don't think anyone else did, either. 

The power outages could be blamed on all the storms... and the minor quake that damaged every single one of the docks and half the buildings in Hagi could be attributed to the sea-bed shifts that were causing the tide to behave so outrageously... and the high number of tourists the previous year might explain why the local animal life was either spooked into hiding or remarkably bold this year... and all of the above plus the random weather could easily explain why everyone in town was so cranky. But none of it explained why my Torrent orb kept glowing so brightly blue, or why I kept getting a nasty cold feeling along the back of my neck. As if someone was watching me, someone who meant me ill. 

It wasn't a very good vacation, what with expecting all hell to break loose at any second, but I wasn't at all eager to get back to Toyama when the break ended, either. I had the most unnerving feeling that we could expect much more serious things to start happening in that city over the fall.

Indeed. 

But that's not something one wants to write about at night; and anyway, that's not 'before' anything, it's the thing itself, so it belongs somewhere else, not here. 

Maybe Kento will feel like writing that one...