New Clubs and New Faces

Once introductions were finished, Homberg-sensei covered a few administrative duties and then released the class for the school club festival. This excited the students as friend groups converged and discussed which clubs to join. Our trio was no exception as Yui bobbed and weaved through desks and classmates alike to return to Yukki and Hope’s side.

“Which club are we joining?” Yui asked as soon as she was close enough.

“Well, I doubt it’ll be what you hoped for,” Yukki says, gesturing to Hope, who signed at Yukki’s pun.

“We aren’t all joining the same one?” Yui asked, a hint of disappointment on her lips.

“Well, it’s not like Hope and I are cut out for the martial arts club.”

“You can still join,” Yui protested. “They have beginner sections, and there are lots of girls, I’m sure, and—” She stopped when Yukki held out her hand.

“Even if I’d have liked to join, I really can’t,” she miffed. “My mom’s all but forcing me to audition for the choir club.”

“But why?”

“Head of the church choir wanting her daughter to take after her? Hoping it’ll help me find a husband? Your guess is as good as mine,” Yukki says, waving her hand. “It’s been like this since you left, almost like she’s trying to mold me into a mini-her,” she says, burying her face into her hands.

“Well, couldn’t you just throw the audition and then join the martial arts club?”

“She’d know in an instant if I didn’t do my best, that’d just invoke more of her wrath. Even if I don’t make the cut, it’s not like she’d let me join the martial arts club. I can hear her say, ‘That club isn’t for a proper lady,’ already. It’s best to pick my battles, as Papa would say.” Yui looked disappointed at Yukki for a moment, but then her gaze turned to Hope, who’d been trying to hide behind her thick curls to avoid what was about to happen.

“What about you, Hope?” Yui asked eagerly. “Wouldn’t it be nice to be in the same club?”

“Uhh, well… it would be nice to be in the same club with you, Yui, but…” she began to stammer, her eyes screaming out to Yukki for help.

“Hope was going to join the choir club with me,” Yukki lied. “I’d already asked her to help make it somewhat bearable.” Yui looked at Yukki, then Hope. She sways her head back and forth as if contemplating whether she should just bite the bullet and join the choir club, too. “It’s not like previous years when we were all in separate classes,” Yukki interjects. “We’re in the same class, so even if we don't have clubs together, we’ll see each other plenty. That should be enough, right?”

“Hmmm,” Yui pondered. “Yeah, that should be fine,” she decided. “Just promise me one thing?”

“What’s that?”

“Once you guys are done with the choir club, you gotta come down and see me in the martial arts club,” she says, flexing her arm. “I learned a lot during my training at my uncle’s monastery, and I wanted to show it off to you guys.”

“Don’t worry,” Yukki says, pulling down her Niqab to show her smile. “Your two biggest fans wouldn’t miss it for the world. Now, get going. Don't you need to change? Or were you going to fight in your uniform?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Yui says, reciprocating Yukki’s smile. She then leans back and flips over the desk behind her before dashing out the door. Yukki and Hope watch this display with a mix of surprise and awe.

“She realizes she’s in a skirt, right?” Hope asks.

“I’m sure she was wearing spats under… Probably,” Yukki assures more for her own sake. “So, what club did you really want to join?” She asks to change the subject. “Classic lit?”

“I actually wanted to check out the contemporary literature club.”

“Oh darling, today, aren’t we?” Yukki teases. “Finally branching out a bit, are we?”

“I can like other kinds of books,” Hope says indignantly. “They don't have to be just one kind.”

“Uh-huh,” Yukki says, rising from her chair. “Maybe, since you’re feeling so adventurous, you can actually join the club this time, too, instead of just reading in the corner of the library .”

“Don’t make me out to be some kind of creep,” Hope says, following behind Yukki.

“Why would I? You do that well enough on your own. Or do you want to keep the legend of the red library ghost alive here, too?” Yukki teased.

“Would you let that go?” Hope laments as they head to the club stand. It’s a short walk to the cultural club building. It’s quite massive for the size of the middle school, but when factoring in that cultural clubs are mixed between the middle and high school divisions, it makes more sense.

In short order, Hope is signed up for the literature club and given a list of books they plan to read. They next head to the choir room, where a crowd is gathering.

“Oh gosh,” Yukki mourns upon seeing the crowd.

“Still not a fan of performing in front of crowds?” Hope inquires.

“No, I mean, at church is one thing because I know them, but these are strangers. Ugh, maybe I should thank Mom for dressing me like this,” she ponders, tugging at her face cloth. As they squeeze through the crowd, they can hear the sound of singing and the piano in concert, as well as whispers from the crowd.

“Who’s that on the piano?”

“Is he a teacher?”

“I’ve never seen him before.”

"He's kinda hot for an older guy?” These are among the few comments being thrown around the room. When Yukki and Hope finally reach the front, Yukki’s heart drops. There, sitting on the piano bench, having way too much fun strumming keys, is her father. Still dressed as Uncle Sam, he bobbed his ponytail in time with the music. His fingers danced from one end of the piano to the other, effortlessly commanding the keys. The pair scans for their parents, quickly picking out Yukki’s mother with her distinctive dress and spotting Oscar and Nora sitting nearby.

“Mom, why is Papa on the piano?” Yukki asks once they have approached.

“The boy who was playing had to leave, and your father offered to take his place when the teacher asked. Isn’t this great? Now you’re sure to get a top spot,” Serana says excitedly. “Now, come here; let me fix your clothes.” As the singer finishes, Serana tugs and adjusts her daughter's clothing, ensuring it’s all in order and instructing her daughter to remember her high notes, not to get nervous, and to make sure to smile. Yukki stands still as her mother fusses over her, wincing ever so slightly as the clothing pinches her skin and pulls her hair. Under her niqab, I saw her lips moving without making any sound.

“It’s now or never,” she mouthed over and over, never actually saying anything. I scoffed at her lukewarm determination, assured that nothing would come of it. But to my surprise, she finally spoke.

“Mother?” Yukki asked, looking at her mother’s face.

“Hold on, Yukki, it’s almost your turn,” serana said, not returning Yukki’s gaze. “Don’t get nervous; you're going to do great.”

“About that, I was thinking of doing a different-”

“Banish the thought,” Serana said, pulling on a corner of the cloth to emphasize her point. “The Psalms are the best music man has ever made.”

“But I was thinking another Psalm would-”

“Your father and I spent a lot of time finding the best for you; don’t ruin it. Now smile big; you're up.” Serana sent her daughter away with a discreet but forceful push

Once at the podium, Yukki hands her father the sheet music for her selected song. Psalm 91, adapted to be sung with musical accompaniment. I observed them practicing it intensely over the last month; no doubt, neither needed a copy to read from. Once Yukki placed herself on the podium, her father began the intro. Hope watched from the crowd next to her parents, listening eagerly.

~He that dwelleth in the secret place of the Most High!~

~Shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty.~

Yukki sang. Despite her constant protesting, I had rarely seen any fear or apprehension from her while actually performing. Her voice was smooth and soothing, fluttering like a butterfly on a gentle spring breeze. Her father’s piano, which had stolen the show mere moments ago, took a back seat, not because he was intentionally playing worse or with less enthusiasm, but because Yukki’s voice overcame it, like a fine chalice overflowing with sweet wine. As the song ended, both parties lingered on the final verse, her voice ringing out longer and extending into a beautiful end, like the final line of a master calligrapher. Applause roared like a tiger from the crowd; suddenly, a room that'd been entirely enthralled by her voice was filled with a deafening cacophony of applause. It almost overwhelmed Hope, who nearly had to cover her sensitive ears, but relented as her eyes met Yukki’s. “Did I do a good job?” they asked, as the confidence and calm drained from her face, drowned out by anxiety and fright. Hope removed her hands from her ears to pump up both her thumbs in a sign of affirmation. A multitude of praises can be heard being called by the crowd.

“She has an amazing voice.”

“Such passion,”

“What song was that?”

But one strikes me as strange.“It’s like the first time every time,” it says from behind the crowd. I looked back to see who'd said it, only to see the crowd flood into an empty space, like filling a vacuum.

The instructor takes down Yukki’s name, and after a brief chat with her, Yukki and Hope head off to the dojo to see Yui’s tryouts. Her father assures Yukki they’ll follow once he’s no longer needed.

As they walk, Hope compliments Yukki’s performance while Yukki laments her mother’s criticism of her performance. They make their way through the courtyard and to the dojo; they see all manner of clubs manning stalls and holding games. “It’s almost like a school festival,” Yukki whispers as they weave through the crowds.

The air changes once they reach the dojo. Lining the walls are rows of students, primarily boys, in gi or other uniforms. Every inch of space is matted out for sparring matches. Jujitsu, karate, and judo are among the crowd, as well as non-martial arts like kendo and boxing. The intense air and smell of sweat are almost too much for Hope to deal with as she sheepishly follows behind Yukki. Yui quickly spots the pair, and she makes her way over, her tight-fitting gi showing off her small but muscular frame much better than the slender black dress of the school’s uniform. She says that since the school doesn't have a set club for her preferred style of Lung Ying, she’ll instead spar against others in the judo and karate clubs to see which would be the best fit. “They originally wanted to put me in the ta-chi club, but that isn’t really my style. Too many grandmothers do that in the park for me to join,” she says, doing stretches and practicing kicks before her first match.

“Just don't break anybody,” Yukki jokes. “I have my first aid kit, but it won't help me if you snap someone in half.”

“I said I should spar against the boys, but they won't let me, saying I have to go against the girls first.” Hope’s eyes leak fear for Yui's first opponent, and her fears are soon realized. A girl from the judo club takes Yui’s first match. It's so unbalanced that even Yukki and Hope, who lack all but the most basic martial arts knowledge, can see Yui is in another league from her. Bobbing and dodging every grab and returning with low kicks and flips. In a matter of seconds, Yui pinned the girl to the ground and locked her arm, causing her to tap relentlessly.

Yui’s next match goes much the same way, with the girl’s punches flying above Yui’s head, almost like the girl’s used to fighting against taller opponents. After each victory, Yui demands to go against a stronger opponent. In short order, she goes from sparring with other female requisites to male recruits to female members. Finally, some of the senior boys take note of this small girl who looks like she should be in elementary school, beating experienced club members. Yui continues challenging and jeering the onlookers, saying she’s been waiting to spar against more and more vigorous opponents than she had in the monastery.

“Are there any boys who aren’t scared to fight me?” She mocks, calling out for all to hear. Finally, the president of the Judo club accepts Yui’s challenge. A shorter boy with a thicker frame, he looks to be at least twice Yui’s weight, but Yui takes her stance undisturbed. As the match begins, Yui tries to use her speed to her advantage, dashing to get behind her opponent. The judo president lets her, undeterred by her movements. Yui, seeing her opening, grasps her arms around his torso and strikes the back of his knee to throw him. Still, the judo president hardens his stance, and her kick fails to buckle his stance. Yui strains and pulls with all her might, but the boy remains unmoved. Finally, once she’s tied herself up, the president makes his move. Knocking her back and following up with a series of rapid jabs, Yui blocks and diverts them, but each time, she’s forced more on the back foot.

“Is this even judo?” Yukki wonders. Knowing that the sport focuses more on grappling than strikes. Finally, once Yui’s placed entirely on the back foot, the boy grasps the sleeve of her gi and tosses her around like a rag doll, flopping her over his shoulder. Yui lands on the mat with a loud *thwap*. The crowd of onlookers is shocked that this young girl, who was tossing even seasoned members moments ago, is now lying on her back. Refusing to give up, Yui tries to right herself, but the president just uses this opportunity to tighten his hold. He grasps her collar and squeezes.

“Just give up, Yui '' Yukki thinks, but to no avail. Now, in a chokehold, Yui tries desperately to break his hold. She fails randomly and violently. Striking his face and nose to no avail. Her weak strikes became weaker and slower until she passed out. Finally, blue in the face, the president gently sets her down and releases his grip, wiping away a small drip of blood from his nose as he does so. Despite warnings against it, Yukki and Hope rush from the sidelines onto the mat. Yukki offers the president a gauze pad for his nose, but he refuses. Hope kneels at Yui’s side.

“Wake up, Yui,” she calls, shaking her friend. As soon as Yui opens her eyes, her body jerks. She strikes upwards in a swift, sudden move, connecting with Hope's face and knocking her back. Pain surges through Hope's body as she falls on her back. She clutches her aching face, feeling the sting in her cheek and jaw. Yui’s head sways as she breathes deeply, regaining her state of mind and focusing her eyes on what’s around her. Her face goes stark white when she sees red dripping between Hope’s fingers. Yukki quickly takes the gauze in her hand and presses it against Hope’s mouth. There, on the inside of her cheek, is a gash from her teeth that chomped down when Yui struck her. Yui apologizes profusely, saying.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I was fighting senpi, and the next thing I knew, you were there, and I’d punched you and-” prattling on. Hope doesn't say anything. Every time she tries moving her mouth, she winces and stops.

“Give me your phone, I’ll text my Papa,” Yukki says, placing Hope’s hand to apply pressure. “He’ll take a look at you. Make sure Yui didn’t just close the gap on which one of us is prettier,” she says with a smile and then dashes away when neither Hope nor Yui laughs.

The trio steps off to the side to await Yukki’s father. As they wait, they watch some of the other matches taking place all around the dojo. As Yui is called away to review the results of her tryouts, one in particular catches Hope and Yukki's eye. Four figures clad in armor on a raised platform clash with bamboo swords. I recognized the competition as Kendo, but was unfamiliar with this form. It appears as if three of the participants are ganging up on the fourth.

“Wouldn’t that be unfair?” She whispered with a baffled look plastered on her face. I thought the same, but as I watched closely, I saw I was partially mistaken. The three-on-one match is most definitely unfair, but not for the one I’d initially thought. With an effortless breeze, the single swordsman weaved through the slashes of his three opponents. Dodging, blocking, and counter-attacking at a pace the other three can scarcely maintain together. He looks more like a dancer in the mists of a performance rather than one engaged in a clash of blades.

“That’s amazing, don’t you think?” Hope asks, turning to Yukki, but there is no response. Yukki’s eyes seemed fixated on the match, utterly enthralled by it in a way I had never seen her before. Indeed, it was an impressive display, and the three seemed to grow more desperate as the match continued, calling out.

“Come on, there are three of us; we have to get at least one hit!”

“We can go full contact if you three want. Not sure it’ll give you much of an advantage, though,” the lone swordsman calls.

“You’re on,” they chime back, but soon regret their decision. Throwing off the rules of kendo, they begin striking with only one hand on the handle, trying to grab at each other’s shinai, and even implementing kicks, much to the dismay of the teacher acting as referee. The lone swordsman refuses to play along and keeps both hands firmly grasping his Shinai. He continues to strike, dodge, and parry with unparalleled ease before looking in Yukki’s direction. It’s a mild glance, one usually noticeable through his helmet, but at that moment, he chooses to finish the match. Striking one of his opponents in the shin, he trips him and then kicks a second opponent over his fallen opponent, sending him tumbling out of the ring. Then, using the momentum from the kick, he lunges into the air and strikes the final opponent on the head with a devastating *CRACK!*, sending him stumbling.

The lone swordsman stands victorious among his fallen competitors for a moment. Still, he has no time to bathe in adoration as the opponent he sent tumbling out of the ring falls into a nearby sword display. The sheathed swords clatter, and one falls open onto the boy's arm from its appointed stand. Blood oozes from the cut just about his gauntlets, staining his shirt and pooling on the floor. “Oh no!” cry several onlookers. Yukki looks just as stunned as everyone else, her eyes fixated on the blood, while I ever so gently move her hand to her first-aid kit.

“Oh yeah!” She whispered as her eyes lit up, and she rushed to the boy's side. She pulls out a tourniquet from her first aid kit, completely forgetting to put on gloves first. In a practiced but unconfident motion, she places the band on the boy's arm and pulls the loose end, constricting the band and cutting off the blood flow.

“Ahh,” the boy moaned, no doubt finding the tourniquet unpleasant.

“Don’t worry,” Yukki assures him. “It was just leaking, not gushing… So the bleed is probably venous, not arterial; I'll stop the bleeding, and you’ll be fine,” she says, scanning the crowd. “Sensei,” she calls, pointing at one of the instructors. “Call for an ambulance; he’ll probably need stitches. What else is there?” She ponders, searching her memories. “ Oh, right! Hey, are you hurt anywhere else?” She asks, turning back to the injured boy, who gives no response. “Are you hurt anywhere else?” she asks again, pulling off his helmet only to be surprised by his face. His cheeks were pale, and his mouth stood agape. His piercing blue eyes stare blankly in front of her in disbelief. “Hey, are you hurt anywhere else?” she says, tapping his cheek.

“No, but it wouldn’t matter anyway; I’m already in heaven,” the boy says apathetically.

“What? No, you’re not. Stop being dramatic,” Yukki scolds. “You’re a long way off from there.”

“Well then, how else would you explain the angel before me?” He questions, life returning to his voice.

“What!? Stop talking nonsense,” Yukki says, but he is shocked when he grasps her hands, pulls her in closer, and stares intensely into her eyes.

“Isn't one seen before me? An angel, yes, moreover not the angel of death but the angel of life; how else could one portray such beauty with but eyes alone? Deep and brown, like chocolate; more flavorful and delightful than can be found in the most selective vaults of Belgium or Ecuador.” His words are smooth and elegant, taking Yukki entirely by surprise. Before she can react, the boy continues speaking.“None other could've been sent to collect Takahashi Tashiro, warrior poet of the kendo club. Ahh, but enough about me: I must know who my angel is, and I must know why she hides a face so beautiful that her eyes alone can pierce my heart like an arrow through an apple upon the head of our first meeting. I simply must see more,” he says, reaching out to pull away the cloth covering her face. Yukki, still shocked by the boy's words, can only watch as his hand creeps ever closer. Hope is likewise left dumbfounded; she’s so focused on Tashiro-kun’s words that she doesn't even notice the hulking figure striding past her. It seems neither Yukki nor Tashiro does either until Tashiro’s arm is grasped in an iron vice and stopped before it can reach Yukki’s face.

“Let’s not get too handsy with the first responder now,” Samson says in a voice like a lid barely keeping a pot from boiling over.

“Papa?” Yukki says, coming out of her shock.

“I saw the whole thing, Yellow Rose. Gloves?” he says, holding out his hands. Yukki hands him a pair from her first aid kit as he continues explaining. “So, first things first, you forgot protective equipment, especially when blood is involved, always, always, ALWAYS! Take body substance isolation into account for your safety more than theirs, got it?”

“Got it,” Yukki nodded.

“For the intervention, good speed on the application, but one problem: I can tell it’s not nearly tight enough, see?” he says, sliding a gloved finger under the constrictive band. You can also tell by his reaction,” he says, turning to the boy without releasing his hand. “You've never had a tourniquet applied before, have you?” he asks.

“Never in my life, father-in-law,” Tashiro-kun responds. Samson inhales sharply, as if he’s been punched in the gut at the reply, and takes a moment to process it before speaking.

“See now, someone not used to it wouldn’t be this calm," he says, undoing the velcro and windlass before grasping it tightly. “They should act a bit more like this,” he says, jerking the Velcro and constricting Tashiro-kun’s arm like a balloon. He tries to suppress his reaction, but a subtle “YooUCH” still escapes his lips.

“See, that's how they should be reacting. And now for the twist,” Samson says, grasping the windlass. As he twists to constrict the tourniquet further, Tashiro-Kun's face shifts from pain to agony

“AHHHHH,” Tashiro-kun squeals as all attempts to suppress his reaction fade. He desperately reaches for the contraption, squeezing his arm like a winepress—Samson’s face shifts to a pleased smile as he prevents Tashiro-kun’s attempted sabotage.

“A well-placed tourniquet should almost hurt more than the wound itself if the one receiving it isn’t used to it. Make sure to implement that next time, but otherwise, good job,” he says, removing a glove and patting Yukki’s head. “Why don't you wash up while I hand this boy off to the ambulance?” he says, shooing his daughter away.

“No, wait, my angel, at least tell me your name before you go!” Tashiro-kun earnestly protests as Hope and Yukki begin leaving.

“Maybe I should also do a field test for a TBI. You're clearly not thinking straight,” Samson says as they leave. Once they’re a distance away, Yui rejoins them, asking what happened and sharing the results of her tryouts. She was placed in the advanced mixed martial arts group, but was warned not to push too hard and hurt the other members. Yukki and Hope explain the situation regarding the Kendo match and Tashiro-kun’s injuries. As Yukki finished speaking, Yui’s smile faltered. She stomped her foot on the raised platform as a frown spread across her face.

“Why does all the excitement have to happen while I’m away?” Yui huffed.

“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure to do the same for you when you get hurt,” Yukki said, pulling Yui into a hug.

“Bold of you to assume I’ll be hurt,” Yui teased, shrugging off the hug with a bit too much force.

Yukki stumbled. Her foot slipped off the platform’s edge, and she lurched backward. Instinctively, she reached for Yui and Hope, but her fingers barely grazed their clothes. Panic surged through her chest, a scream forming in her throat as she experienced her greatest fear of heights. I was just about to knock her feet into a position where she could catch herself when an arm caught her from behind. I saw the grip was firm yet gentle, steadying her with ease.

“Are you alright?” a boy’s voice asked. Yukki looked up, her heart still racing. The boy wore full kendo attire, his face mostly obscured by his helmet. The dim light filtering in from the dojo barely illuminated his features. Still, she could make out two dark eyes watching her intently. She opened her mouth to speak, but words escaped her. I’d never seen her mind at such a loss for words, so I simply shook my head up and down. “Good,” he said, and with a controlled motion, he lifted her back onto the platform beside Yui and Hope.

Now that she could see him correctly, she recognized him—the lone swordsman from the match. His hand rested on his shinai with quiet dignity.

“Thank you,” Yukki said, bowing slightly in an attempt to match his respectful demeanor. “For catching me, I mean.”

“No, I should be thanking you.” He held up a hand. “I’m the one who injured that boy you treated. His injuries are my fault. I’ll hold back more next time.” His voice was steady, composed, elegant, even—and in it, I noticed the practiced poise of a warrior who spends more hours on the drill floor than his own bed.

“Oh, don’t worry, it was nothing,” Yukki said, waving a hand dismissively.

He shook his head. “No, it wasn’t nothing. Someone was seriously hurt because I didn’t properly control myself, causing trouble for you. My humblest apologies.”

Then, to Yukki’s shock, he bowed deeply at the waist, his torso nearly parallel to the floor. The gesture reminded me of her father—how he always apologized with unwavering sincerity whenever he made a mistake. She opened her mouth to respond, but Yui beat her to it.

“Just make sure to go easier on your subordinates,” Yui said, feigning authority. “It isn’t good for the president to beat up those below him.”

“Oh no, I’m not the president.” The lone swordsman gestured toward the injured boy, who was still struggling as the EMTs attempted to place him on a stretcher.

Yukki blinked. “How can that be?”

“Huh? But you’re so much stronger than him!” Yui blurted out.

“He’s the strongest in the kendo club.”

“Huh, but—” Yui started, only to be cut off.

“I should check on him before they take him away,” the swordsman said. Then, turning to Yui, he added, “Congratulations on your placement, Niǎo-san.”

Finally, he met Yukki’s gaze. “And thank you again for your help. I’m glad to have had someone like you here.”

Before Yukki could react, he turned and walked toward the EMTs, disappearing into the crowd like smoke dissolving into the wind.

“Hey, wait! How do you know my name?” Yui called after him, but he was already gone, and for them, the encounter was over. However, it was not so for me and the two besides me. There was yet another task at hand. As the boy had spoken with the girls, another celestial figure approached me. He was cautious, suppressing his presence with enough skill almost to avoid my vision. He didn’t make introductions, merely holding out a scroll to me, sealed with the insignia of The Cross. I took it without hesitation and intended to read it immediately before he spoke.

“We await your arrival and your charges,” he said, vanishing just as quickly as he’d appeared. I opened the scroll without delay and read the contents. There, written in two hands. The message, time, location, and introductions from the sender were all written in Japanese, but between them was an address to me, written in the language of angels.

The Blade Hidden in the Cross’ Shadow, Abbot of the Tokyo strike team, loyal servant of The Metropolitan of Kanto, Matriarch of Japan, The Maidens of Marie, and to the Lord Jesus Christ.

To Khathael, Right hand to St. Michael the Archangel, second of the armies of Heaven, Guardian of Yukki GoKegawa.

Greetings and salutations to you, and rejoice. The One True Triune God has taken note of your loyal and dutiful service to your charge. You have led her well in the faith, and now the Lord has seen fit to make her a maiden in his divine war against the enemy. To this end, the Maid of Honor and three councils have seen it just and good to place her under the instruction and leadership of the Abbot of Tokyo. This he decrees to you. Reveal yourself to her and bring her to the location marked below at the time indicated. There, they shall have their lenses removed so they may see and begin training to fight the enemy in whatever capacity the Lord will give them ability.

May glory and love be with you from The Father, The Son, and The Holy Spirit forever, Amen.

I looked down at the letter and, for the first time, realized how tightly I'd been gripping it. My eyes shifted back to Yukki, who was already turning to make jokes with Hope and Yui. I looked above them and saw the same scroll in their guardian’s hands and knew. Tonight would be a night that, though the three of them shall forget in time, we shall remember for eternity.