"I don't do charity!" The sallow-faced man said, making a shooing motion with his hands.

Van blinked. This old codger sure was a funny fellow.

Senior Ruskel moved forwards.

Van followed.

Senior Ruskel stopped.

Van stopped too.

The older man turned around, brows drawn together angrily, "Do you want to get beaten?"

Van innocently shook his head.

Senior Ruskel hmphed. He turned around and started to whistle again. He took a step forward.

Van took a step forward.

He took a step to the side.

Van took a step to the side.

He hopped forwards.

Van hopped forwards.

He twirled on the spot.

Van twirled on the spot.

Spectators began to gather. They watched curiously as the pair, one old one young, began to do an ugly dance in the middle of the street.

Senior Ruskel was without shame, moving his butt this way and that to see if he could dislodge this annoying follower.

If this Senior could be without shame, Van resolved to be the same. Blank-faced, he also moved his butt this way and that.

The spectators clapped. Performances became stranger and stranger every year. But at least the dancing seemed to be in rhythm with the whistling.

Senior Ruskel dropped his head into the bent crook of his elbow, while raising his other arm out in a sharp movement. It was a masterful dab.

Van copied the dab.

The duo pranced about the stone-paved street for a good minute, to the reluctant clapping of the audience.

"Mama, that old guy is moving his hips weirdly. Does he need to go poo-poo too?"

"Shhh! Let them do their work. It's like the rain dance, honey. I think they could be shamans encouraging good bowel movements for us! You know your father needs it."

Van's cheeks bulged with the effort of holding his laugh in. He felt as if he would explode.

Senior Ruskel got creative - he slapped his face and waited for the sound of another slap from behind him.

Van wasn't an idiot.

Dissatisfied, Senior Ruskel looked back to see the young boy looking back at him blankly.

"Why didn't you slap yourself?!" He demanded angrily.

Van put on an innocently blank air, "Why would I slap myself? I'm not an idiot."

Senior Ruskel felt he had lost all face.

"Brat!!" He bellowed. He lunged forwards.

Van sidestepped Senior Ruskel's clumsy grab.

Quickly, he pulled out the token Silver Mark One had given him and flashed it smartly in the old guy's face.

Senior Ruskel squinted. He recognised the pattern like the back of his own hand.

"Is that a Cedar Sect token?"

"Yep," Van said.

Senior Ruskel spotted the personal mark on the corner of the token. He hmphed.

"So you're the boy he's sending me. Hmph humph," Ruskel said, flicked imaginary dust off his wide sleeves.

The older man glanced at his new charge up and down. At least he looked reasonably strong for his age.

Van was perfectly at ease. He had instinctively felt that this old man did not have a very high cultivation, and with the token, had not been afraid of a physical confrontation. Instead, he had found the high-and-mighty, scamp-like behaviour of the old man quite humorous and cute.

Although he did feel quite sorry for that poor merchant.

Together, they went back to the tavern.

Senior Ruskel told Van that they would be leaving Clear Water the day after next, as he was waiting for other potential servants to take to the capital. In the meantime, Van was free to do whatever he liked.

Van really had nothing to do. He wandered about the streets until dark, content to watch the busy lives of the town people.

It was quite dark outside when Van decided to return to the tavern for a rest.

It was at that moment a hooded figure rushed out before him.

"Van!" A young voice shouted.

Van was shocked. This voice was very familiar.

A pale hand lifted the hood. Familiar grey eyes stared out at him.

It was Ryan.

Van was surprised - it must have taken him the whole day to get here if he came on a wagon.

He looked at his bully. He still resented the boy. Ryan's scorn for Van fanned the flames of the villagers' dislike of him. Admittedly, it was not the cause of it. But after the tumultuous events of the past few days, Van felt as if his past grievances were no longer as sharp. Still painful, but lesser somehow. He had set his sights beyond his life in the village.

Van did not speak. He waited for Ryan to reveal why he had come to find him.

Unhesitatingly, Ryan knelt and pressed his head to the ground.

Van could not lie – he felt a sense of satisfaction at his bully down on his knees before him. He remembered the past years when he was excluded and disregarded by the other village children. The victory was sweet.

"I beg you. Van. Please, take me to the Cedar Sect with you!"

For a moment, Van was tempted to cruelly reject him.

Ryan hit his forehead against the hard pebbles on the ground.

"Please!"

The younger boy was ruthless to himself. Again, and again, he repeated the kowtow.

"Please!"

The sound of his forehead knocking against the ground echoed through the streets. People were ducking their heads outside of their windows to see what was going on.

Ryan did not stop. He kowtowed for another ten minutes.

Finally, Van relented. He roughly pulled the younger boy up.

Ryan's forehead was scraped raw. Dirt was mixed into his bloody wound. The younger boy looked hopefully up at him.

Van tried not to sneer. He reckoned Ryan deserved a little pain for all the hardship he had put him through.

"I cannot guarantee you anything," Van warned harshly but truthfully, "Bringing you to the capital is the limit. You can only rely on yourself to pass the Cedar Sect's tests."

Ryan's bowed his head, grateful, but awash with shame. He looked at the boy before him. If it was himself, he could not have been so generous to his bully.

At length, he spoke:

"I understand. But I must take any chance I can. I want to prove my father wrong."

"Did you leave the village without telling them?" Van asked, frowning.

Ryan bit his lip. He nodded his head.

"I will not allow you to set one foot closer to the capital until you tell your parents." Van put his foot down, ignoring Ryan's grimace.

"But.." Ryan weakly protested. He thought of his father's disapproving look and the lashing he'd get if he ran back with his tail between his legs.

Van's forehead creased.

"If you do not say goodbye when you can.."

"You will regret it. Forever."

Van's chest was tight. He was dredging up painful memories.

One morning, when he was eight, he had woken up one morning to find that his parents had disappeared from his world, leaving him alone with his months-old baby sister.

What had happened? Where did they go? Why had they gone? Were they alive?

For three years, not one day went by where Van did not distress himself over their disappearance. He wished he could have at least said goodbye.

Ryan saw Van's sorrowful expression and gave a small, tight nod.

"You must let me come with you to the capital if they allow me!"

Van agreed.

Ryan looked as he wanted to say something. But at the last moment, his lips closed again.

He hung his head.

________________

Ryan returned two days later, lugging a large bundle on his back. He was wearing a new tunic and sandals, lovingly crafted by his mother. A bone-handled dagger from his father was strapped to his waist.

Ryan stopped before Van, scratching his head awkwardly.

"I think my dad finally accepted that I can't be strong the way he is."

He laughed softly, miming his father's massive biceps and mountain-like body.

"But. I still want to become strong. I believe there must be many different definitions of 'strength' in this world!"

The younger – but taller – boy spoke enthusiastically.

After a while, his expression changed as if he remembered something. His foot traced lines in the dirt.

"Um..I meant to say something to you two days ago, but I was too chicken"

He mumbled something unintelligible.

"What did you say?"

The grey-eyed, grey-haired boy mumbled something else. He looked up to see Van's confused expression. He cleared his throat.

"I said..I'm sorry."

"For all the stupid crap I've done to you."

"I used to get annoyed by you because - it's so dumb, but -" Ryan took an extremely large breath and his next words came up like a gust of wind, "Iwasjealousbecauseyoudidn'thaveanyparents."

Van was astounded. He thought he heard wrong.

"You hated me because of what!?"

"Because you don't have any parents!" Ryan cried out, ashamed of himself. His pale face was blotchy red.

Van felt his body shake. He felt ready to clock this bastard across the face again.

"I'm not good a talking, f**k," Ryan mumbled, "I was jealous because my parents are always on my back about everything!"

Van thought he was delirious. Either he was, or Ryan was. This was ridiculous.

He told Ryan so, fists clenched by his sides.

The grey-haired boy shook his head.

"You don't understand – my dad. He..he never beat me but – every single day, he tried to make me stronger, teach me how to fight but, but I'm just hopeless at all that."

Ryan shook his head, "I just never did a damn thing right."

"Every day, I lived in fear that he resented me for not being more like him, for being so weak. I started to hate myself. My only dream was to become strong but I felt that I was hopeless. Every day, I wanted to scream - I hated the world, but mostly I hated myself."

Van felt his anger cool. He suddenly pitied Ryan.

The other boy continued:

"And when the other kids started gathering around me and encouraging me to do bad things, I never said no. I just did whatever I wanted so I could feel strong and powerful for once. And because I'm an idiot, I saw you and your sister, living every day so carefree..I.."

Ryan's head hung even lower.

"I am a terrible person."

Van didn't deny that. He unclenched his fists.

Though he still couldn't stand the bastard, through Ryan's blabbering, Van started to feel an odd sense of understanding. He had first-hand experience of how intense and angry Blade could get when things did not go to his expectations. He imagined living every day of his life under that kind of anger and expectation.

Still.

"This does not excuse any of what you did to me and my sister," Van said harshly.

Ryan flinched.

"If you are determined to become strong, you must rise above your past mistakes. I will not forget what you did to me in the past - but I will give you this one opportunity to redeem yourself."

Ryan's eyes became wet. He surreptitiously wiped his eyes with his elbow. He nodded his head jerkily, fervent.

"..Thank you.." Ryan squeezed out of his clenching throat, "Thank you for taking me to the capital.. I swear no matter what happens there - whether I'm successful or not, I will always be grateful and help you if you ever need it! I won't forgive myself otherwise!"

Van solemnly accepted the pledge.

A slow, sarcastic clap rang out from behind them.

"My, my, my. What a touching little show."