"Oh, quit whining,” a girl’s voice, not without a discernible hint of amusement, flitted in to interrupt the dronings, "it’ll heal.”

There was the hiss of a match against some unknown surface, then a dim veil of light settled over the infirmary walls and wood floor and revealed Lilly walking towards the patient bed with an oil lamp in one hand.

Cracking his irrepressible lady-killer smile, Volpe answered,
"Well, how else is a fella supposed to get some room service around here?” Without missing a beat, he resumed his pathetic wailing act.
"Ohhhhh! Will I subdue no more scoundrels? Will I dazzle no more damsels?”

Lilly felt the corners of her mouth tug into a smile. She didn’t fight it. Both knew that while Volpe was battered, he was far, far from the boney clutches of Death. Her... that was another story...

"Volpe, you ham,” she giggled and began while reaching into the bag slung over her shoulders.

"Hark! Can it be? The maiden of the ethereal flora has come bearing the ambrosia of the gods that will restore my failing senses?”

"Yup.”

A plastic cup came into view, the red and cream colored layers inside were temptingly visible from the small, clear container.

"Jello cheesecake!” Volpe caught the small cup as Lilly tossed it his way.

"You can thank Iwa for that, she recovered your bag of goodies in the woods this morning.”

"Ahh... the wonderous warrioress of wolves... She wants me."

"Care to repeat that?" a less than enthused but rather annoyed female voice came from the direction of the door.

Volpe squeaked his utterance of surprise as he saw Iwa entering the room, and after grinning a sheepish grin took up a sudden interest in the wrapper label on the Jello cup.

"Lilly," Iwa addressed the younger girl, "I would like word with you outside."

"Of course."

As the two started towards the door, Volpe suddenly yelled after them while pointing haplessly at the dessert container in his hand. "Wait, what about a utensil? Spoon? Spork?"

"Oh..." Lilly's brows furrowed. "There weren't any in your bag and Guy doesn't seem to have anything but chopsticks here."

"No spork?" Volpe stared wistfully at his Jello cheesecake. "The lovely ladies of fate are cruel and artful indeed..."

"Oh for crying outloud!" Iwa suddenly whipped out a dagger and flung it at Volpe. Lilly watched with astonishment as Volpe single-handedly caught the small blade within a scant few millimeters from the tip of his nose.
"Use that," Iwa said curtly before she gestured for Lilly to follow her.

Volpe looked the small dagger over and shrugged, stabbing the package open.
"It's no spork, but it'll have to do..."

Checking her reflection for the last time, the young girl felt satisfied with her image and pocketed the compact case again. Suspicious, sorrel eyes peered out the plane window, the scene, seeing all and neglecting nothing. One hand reached towards the crucifix around her slim neck.

Somewhere down there, in the heart of the Orient, she'll find her answers. She's waited too long. She won't be denied.

"Your first tournament, I assume?" Iwa asked as she dangled heels over head from a tall, stalky tree that was not quite birch and not quite oak, but had nevertheless caught Iwa's eye as an adequet location to have a talk with the younger girl.

"Yup," Lilly quickly scaled the tree and perched herself neatly, though right-side up, on the branch beside Iwa. "And loving every minute of it." For the whole time her face was fixed in an innocent but energetic smile that made her seem anything but a Street Fighter.

"You guys won't tell anyone else about my... illness will you?" Lilly asked. "I don't want any special favors." Her smile faltered. "I don't need pity."

Iwa thought she saw the girl's lower lip quaver ever so slightly, before she could discern for certain Lilly had lifted the silvery flute to her lips and began playing a whimsical string of notes. The woodwind melody didn't cry but rather laughed, much like what Iwa knew to be laugh of birds in the morning dew. Within a few moments, Lilly lowered her flute and donned her seemingly unshakable smile yet again.

A fighter any less perceptive might have dismissed Lilly's action without a second thought. But Iwa saw. And now she knew.

Lilly was not so much different than her, Iwa reflected. She shields her emotions from sight with her stoical face and seemingly antipathetic attitude, while the flutist hides her pain and fears behind that happy pink and silver attire and her coerced smile.

And the flute now revealed itself to be more than simply a weapon on the battle field. No, much more. Iwa noted the way Lilly was clutching the flute and silently confirmed that the instrument was indeed part of the girl's soul, perhaps the one remaining pillar that keeps her from collapsing emotionally.

"No, we won't tell," Iwa answered, almost unaware of the protective-big-sister tone creeping into her voice.

Lilly's lips curled up happily and she snapped the flute up into the air playfully before catching it like a baton.

"Are you ready to die though? Leukemia isn't something you can shake off after a few bowls of chicken noodle soup you know."

"Our time will all come sooner or later." Lilly's casual reply caused Iwa to raise an eyebrow. "And for future reference, I perfer cream of mushrooms."

With her usual watchful eye, Iwa studied the girl's actions. No, she wasn't emitting any Life chi. Could she and Kumori have been wrong earlier? This isn't the Warrior of Life?

The night was dark and moonless. Darker yet was the deep interior of the forest which laid nestled under a dense, nearly impenetrable canopy of vegation and foliage. With a flit, a flap, and no more than a soft rustle of fabric, a figure suddenly darted though the dense but not quite impervious expanse of living wood columns. The coal-colored camouflage of his gi rendered him nearly undetectable in the eerie woods. Mocking the darkness, his fiery, crimson hair irradiated a flame-like glow. A sly smile, edging on being nefarious, slipped across his lips. His bare feet almost glided on air as his charged ahead, and this lightness of step allowed for minimal amount of noise, which was also to a hunter's advantage.

The girl can't be too far away now.

"Phoenix Call!!" The cry, clear and sharp, gave a fraction of a second's warning before a channel of flames erupted in the darkness, raging and churning for a few moments before dwindling down to leave an incinerated trail of smothering ashes which at first glance would render no resemblence to the living vegetation it had once been.

Obviously satisfied with the last execution of her special attack, Crista beamed and dusted off her arm bands.

As he stared at the billow of smoke in the air, quite the side-effect of Crista's flame throwing demo, Night let out a low whistle.

"What was that for?" Crista glanced slyly in his direction.

"That looked really good," Night commented, still gawking at the narrow band of scorched land before him. Realizing his words, he stammered, "I meant the attack looked really good..."

Crista lifted an eyebrow.

"Not that you didn't look good..."

She lifted the other eyebrow.

"You did look good..."

She cocked her head to the side.

"I mean you do look good... still look good..." Night's face had blushed a rosy hued, crimson hinted, ruby tinted, bright cherry red.

"Would like some ketchup with that foot in your mouth?" Crista chuckled. For a moment, Night found himself thinking what a lovely laugh she had.

"Well, like I said before, you really heal fast," Night remarked, grateful for the opportunity to change the subject.

"I guess I do feel better," Crista smiled while she stretched her limbs a little and looked around for a new target to practice on. "I think I'll go a few more rounds before hitting the sack."

"Can I convince you other wise?" Night asked.

"Why? Worried I'm still too weak?"

"Uhh... not really. I'm just afraid sooner or later you'll run out of targets and you'll toast my garden." He directed her attention to a small patch of geraniums and pansies, planted with meticulous care in a small plot of soil in front of the cottage.

"Don't worry, if anything, I'll torch the house before the flowers." She winked.

"By all means, allow me!!"

The sinister voice was not what startled them, but rather the large chi blast that immediately followed.
The little flower bed, was obliterated in an instant, and a few withered, and toasted pansy petals swirled through the air.

A torch-like plume of red hair appeared from the darkness and the bronxed, heavily muscled body of which it was attached, emerged likewise from the shadows.

Crista tensed up. "Akuma..."