"Kiotsuke!"

Cam looked up in surprise as the shout penetrated the clash of wooden practice laths, unconsciously maintaining his guard until he saw his current opponent draw back. The class snapped to attention all around him, a testament to their training that not a single blow fell after that cry. There weren't many people whose presence would merit that kind of instantaneous response--

Sure enough, his eye fell on Hunter at the edge of the arena, looking a little sheepish for bringing the entire practice to a halt. Cam knew he didn't make his students come to attention at his arrival, and thus could be forgiven the intrusion. Here at the Wind Academy they followed the old rules of respect and discipline.

"At ease," Hunter offered, with an apologetic shrug in Cam's direction. He was almost four hours late. He couldn't have intended to disrupt the class, but his first reaction on finding Cam's office empty would naturally have been to seek him out.

Cam bowed to his own opponent, then gestured for her to join and divide the nearest trio. "As you were," he told the group, waiting until the sparring resumed to join Hunter at the edge of the practice field. He deposited his lath in the rack as he passed.

"Miss the ninja bus?" he inquired of Hunter, when he was close enough to keep his voice from carrying. There were enough rumors flying about the two of them without him adding to them. The thought wasn't quite enough to keep him from appreciating the fit of Hunter's training uniform out of the corner of his eye.

No teacher insignia, he realized suddenly. Hunter wasn't just wearing a training uniform, he was wearing an old training uniform. He really was spending too much time at the Wind Academy if the students could recognize his face in the midst of combat training.

"Sorry," Hunter muttered. He too was keeping a wary eye on Cam's class, and Cam wondered, not for the first time, what he was hearing from the students at the Thunder Academy. "Student emergency."

Cam nodded once, understanding.

"You gotta teach this class?" Hunter asked under his breath. It was a genuine enough question, delivered in a tone that implied he wouldn't make a fuss no matter what the answer. But--and it might have been Cam's imagination--it seemed that there was a hint of wistfulness to it.

Cam nodded again, this time lifting his chin toward the tall, dark-skinned woman nearest their edge of the practice field. "Remember Nena?" he said softly. "She went caroling with us over the holidays?"

Hunter tipped his head slightly, considering her, but his answer was quick enough. "Sure. How'd she end up in an advanced swordwork class?"

Cam folded his arms. "She's been here two and a half years," he murmured. "She's had plenty of time to move up. And she has the talent for it."

Hunter raised an eyebrow, polite enough not to comment. Cam knew what he was thinking anyway, and he agreed. It was the only thing she was any good at, and she had thrown herself into it with the same determined fervor with which she did everything else. The only difference was that, this time, it had paid off.

"She's never missed a class," he said quietly. "So I've never handed it off." He glanced at his watch, then added, "We're almost done, though. The dinner warning will--"

Something caught his attention, just at the edge of his perception, and his awareness reached for it instinctively. "Matte," he snapped, striding onto the field and narrowing in on the source of the illegal movement. "Simawe, when is it appropriate for a samurai to release his sword?"

Every student had come to come to attention when he ordered them to stop, but Simawe bowed his head respectfully when Cam stared him down. "Only when it's knocked from his hand, Sensei."

"Yet you've let your weapon go twice in this practice alone--this time after I specifically asked you not to do so. Why is that?"

Simawe didn't lift his head, but his shoulders were tense and the words became ever more curt. "Sensei, the weapon was still within my control. I did not at any time endanger my classmates by... expanding upon the versatility of the sword."

"I'd commend your creativity," Cam said dryly, "if it didn't come at the expense of class discipline. There's a time for that kind of innovation, and this session isn't it. Was our agenda for today somehow unclear?"

"No, Sensei." His response was immediate, if unquestionably grudging.

"If you can't abide by the rules," Cam said, more quietly, "I'm going to ask you to leave this class. This isn't a game. This is the way of the samurai, and if you're not interested, I suggest you try a different weapons' program."

"With respect, Sensei?" Simawe lifted his head, looking Cam straight in the eye. "I'm not a samurai. I'm here to learn how to use a sword, not to follow the archaic traditions of a lost people."

"Sensei Hunter." Cam didn't take his eyes off of Simawe. "How archaic is the samurai tradition, exactly?"

He didn't have to look to know that Hunter had just folded his arms across his chest, a gesture that made him look about twice as threatening as he did just standing around looking like a ticked off bouncer. "If I remember right," he said, not as though that were in question, "it's about three hundred years more current than the ninja tradition. But what's a few centuries between friends?"

Simawe's gaze had shifted to Hunter the moment he spoke, but he wasn't having much luck holding that icy blue gaze. He was staring down at the ground again as he muttered, "The samurai don't have a monopoly on sword work."

"No," Cam agreed calmly. He turned to Hunter. "Care to demonstrate?"

A grin spread across Hunter's face, and Cam knew he wasn't going to go easy on him just because he had something to prove. Quite the opposite, in fact--which was all to the good. "Any time," Hunter answered with a smirk. "Sensei Cameron."

Hunter snatched Simawe's wooden lath without bothering to ask, and Cam saw a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye. He reached out to catch Nena's practice blade without even looking, bringing it up to block before Hunter could finish his lunge. The resounding "crack" echoed in the suddenly quiet field.

For just a moment, their eyes met and neither of them moved. Then his mock-sword slid under Hunter's and threw him back, the motion easy as the samurai power gathered at his fingertips. It was both like the ninja elements and not, a cumulative skill and a sense of human history whispering to him, rather than that of the earth itself. But it was strong and it was real as their blades met and tested and probed for any quarter the other might unintentionally give.

They were evenly matched, he and Hunter. More than a year ago, the Bradley brothers had surprised him in his own home and taken him captive. He had managed to overpower Blake, but Hunter could fight him to a standstill--and had, on more than one occasion. Since that day, their encounters had been all in the name of training, but the knowledge that holding back would mean certain defeat hung unmentioned at the edge of every session.

They were evenly matched. But Hunter's weapon of choice was the bo, while Cam's had become the sword. He had the advantage, he knew it, and he pressed it for all it was worth. Hunter gave ground, and Cam would have backed off--but Hunter caught the "blade" end of his lath and used the double-handed grip to shove Cam back, swinging the weapon like a bo as he scored a "kill" point just above Cam's shoulder.

There was absolute silence from the class, interrupted only by the sound of the gong announcing dinner in the distance. Cam's mouth quirked. "You can't do that with a sword," he remarked.

Hunter's gaze didn't leave his. "It's not a sword," he replied. "Know your weapon."

"Point." Cam shifted his weight and hooked his foot around Hunter's left ankle, jerking forward and yanking his feet out from under him. Hunter went down with no dignity whatsoever, which Cam figured he deserved after a stunt like that. "There's no such thing as a fair fight," he added calmly.

Hunter looked more rueful than annoyed, a half-smile on his face as he held up his hand. Cam hauled him to his feet, and they bowed perfunctorily to each other. He looked over at Nena, caught her eye as she came forward to retrieve her practice lath. She bowed too, and he inclined his head in thanks.

Turning back to Simawe, he considered his rebellious student carefully. "There's time for ritual," he said at last. "And there's time for improvisation. But the fact remains that this is my class, and I will teach it as I see fit. The next time you disregard a guideline I set, you will find another class. Do you understand?"

The rancor was gone, or at least better concealed, as Simawe bowed his head. "I understand, Sensei."

"Good." Cam's gaze flicked across the rest of the group. "Kiotsuke!"

They came to attention quickly, and he felt Hunter shift beside him. Another thing Hunter didn't bother with, though the rest of the Thunder teachers had yet to follow his lead. His informality was probably regarded--and dismissed--as youthful eccentricity.

"Rei!" As one, the students bowed, and Cam didn't keep them any longer than he needed to. "Class dismissed."

Voices rose to fill the silence, punctuated by the clatter of laths returning to their racks and the harassment of students who didn't move fast enough for the ninjas in charge of equipment this week. Hunter watched them all through narrowed eyes, but Cam knew who he meant when he asked quietly, "What's that kid's name again?"

"Simawe," Cam answered. He didn't bother to point out that the "kid" had at least a decade on Hunter. "Why?"

Hunter had slid into his personal space before he even noticed, twisting Cam's arm gently behind his back in a maneuver eerily reminiscent of their first encounter. "I like to know my enemy," he whispered, the words just reaching Cam's ears.

Cam smiled even as he trod lightly on Hunter's foot, forcing him to step back without letting go of his wrist. "Sometimes your 'enemy' is more than he seems," he replied in kind.

Hunter's soft tone managed to be rueful as the tips of his fingers curled around Cam's. "I've noticed that."

Before Cam could answer, he added, "Your dad's headed this way."

Great. The students were scattering, motivated by the late dismissal and followed closely by those taking care of the equipment. "Want to go?" he asked, knowing it would be rude and not particularly caring.

"Too late," Hunter said with a sigh, careful to keep his voice low. He also kept his fingers loosely hooked around Cam's, and even if their hands were behind Cam's back it wasn't hard to guess what they were doing.

"Cameron." It was possibly intended as a greeting. "Hunter." He didn't bother to address them by their titles, which had once been a sign of affection but lately might mean any number of things.

"Dad," Cam replied evenly. Hunter just inclined his head, in what could have been interpreted as a sketchy bow. Or not.

"That was an interesting performance," his father remarked.

Cam decided to take that as a compliment. "Thank you."

"It was a demonstration, Sensei," Hunter said unexpectedly. He didn't move, still standing too close to Cam and apparently not the least bit self-conscious about it. "Not a performance."

His dad seemed to consider that, but Cam suspected the distinction was lost on him. "What, then," he asked at last, "are you demonstrating now?"

Cam set his jaw, but Hunter's tone was polite and maybe even a little bemused as he replied, "I don't know what you mean, Sensei."

"I refer to your overt affection for my son." His father might not choose the direct route first, but he didn't avoid it when the indirect approach got him nowhere.

Hunter didn't flinch. "If you know that I'm demonstrating affection, Sensei, then what was the question?"

His dad smiled slightly, in the "I know something you don't know" way that had gotten Cam's hackles up ever since he'd been old enough to recognize it. "Does your father permit this sort of display at the Thunder Academy?" he inquired.

Cam stiffened, dismayed by the careless question. His father had to know that Sensei Omino had never officially adopted Hunter and Blake. What had made him word it that way? And since when had he let policy at the Thunder Academy have any effect whatsoever on the school of Wind?

"My father is dead, Sensei Watanabe." Hunter's even tone had turned just as cold as Cam expected. "And my sensei doesn't pass judgement on the people he loves."

"It was not my intent to pass judgement," his father replied mildly. As though Hunter was the one overreacting. "Merely to draw attention to inappropriate campus conduct."

Cam opened his mouth, but Hunter beat him to it. "When Blake comes home," he said, his voice still distant and cool, "and he visits Tori? Do you threaten to expel them for holding hands?"

Cam shifted, and Hunter squeezed his fingers warningly. Still out of sight, but nowhere near invisible. Hunter wasn't going to back down. Unless Cam wanted to either interrupt or walk away, he was going to have to stand here and listen. He hated this, for Hunter's sake, but he couldn't tell him to let it go. It would be like siding with his father.

"Blake is not the head teacher of a Ninja Academy," his father pointed out, not ruffled in the slightest by Hunter's comparison.

"Blake has a girlfriend," Hunter shot back. Therein lay the unacknowledged issue, Cam thought with a sigh. Hunter obviously agreed. "Excuse me for wondering if that's the real problem here!"

His father tilted his head to one side, considering them. "Would you now pass judgement on my motivation?" he asked calmly. Again, putting them in the wrong! Cam wasn't going to stand here and listen to this, but Hunter was too quick.

"I inherited my values from my sensei," he informed Cam's dad. "Lucky for me, Cam didn't do the same. That's not a judgement. It's a statement of fact."

"You waste no time in assigning me values that I am quite certain I have not articulated."

"Any time you want to share, Sensei," Hunter told him. "I'm listening. So far all I've heard is you sounding disapproving and vaguely threatening."

His father actually sighed a little, but it was more martyr-like than anything that indicated Hunter was getting through to him. "All I'm asking is that you show a little restraint when surrounded by a campus full of students."

"You want to see restraint?" Hunter demanded. He stepped far enough from Cam that he could lift their joined hands into view. "This is restraint! This is as good as it gets, Sensei! I'm freakin' holding hands here, and you want me to be more restrained?"

Cam couldn't hide a smile. They really were more discreet at the Wind Academy. His father didn't know what he was missing. A little more confident in Hunter's ability to hold his own, he added blandly, "There's only so much you can ask of a person."

Hunter shot him a look that was exasperated and speculative at the same time. "Are you asking to be kissed?"

It was hard to tell whether Hunter was serious, but the expression on his father's face was too good to pass up. "It does sound like it, doesn't it," Cam said mildly.

That was enough for Hunter. He leaned in, eyes dropping and then closing altogether as their mouths met in a slow, easy kiss. It was more comfortable than it had once been, the feeling more familiar and the angles more instinctive. They didn't make a production out of it, but it felt good to be that close--even just for a minute.

Their eyes prolonged the contact as they drew away, and his father's voice was pained. "Perhaps you could take this somewhere else."

"Dinner?" Cam asked, still looking at Hunter.

"You're on," Hunter agreed. "Thanks for the thought, Sensei." He did look over at Cam's dad then, and even bowed, but the gesture was not returned.

"Off site?" Cam said under his breath, as they turned away. He hadn't bothered to take his leave, and he could practically feel his father watching them go.

"I don't know." Hunter's hesitation surprised him, but then he added, "It's kind of like... letting him win, you know?" He paused again. "How do you feel about eating in the dining hall?"

Cam considered that. They actually had a dining hall now, instead of just a mess tent, but it was no less noisy and demanding than the old arrangement had been. He tried to avoid it as much as possible. But with Hunter there...

Well, it was potentially both better and worse, at the same time and for the same reason. Better, because just having Hunter there would make the dining hall bearable, even entertaining. And worse, because just having Hunter there would make the dining hall bearable--and he didn't doubt that it would be obvious to everyone who saw them.

"Ambivalent," he said at last. "But I don't mind trying it." He glanced sideways at Hunter's street clothes, and added, "Give me a minute to change."

Hunter shadowed him back to his tent. The Wind Academy was bigger than the Thunder Academy, and their reconstruction wasn't proceeding proportionately quickly. He was still living in a tent, and Hunter teased him that the two nights spent at the Thunder Academy were more about the room than the room's occupant.

Cam didn't contradict him, if only because Hunter's ego didn't need any encouragement. The fact that he would have gone absolutely anywhere to spend a night with Hunter wasn't something he was going to bring up. And the fact that Hunter was slowly insinuating himself into every aspect of Cam's life wasn't something he would even think about. The implications were vaguely frightening.

Hunter ambushed him the moment they were inside his tent. The feeling was purely physical, unthreatening, and far more welcome than he had expected. It still surprised him to feel how quickly he responded to Hunter. Those blue eyes distracted him like nothing he'd ever known, and when he came close enough to touch Cam couldn't think about anything else.

"Could have fooled me," Hunter murmured, nuzzling his cheek and trailing his fingers down Cam's back. "I dunno what Sensei's complaining about. You're nothing but Sensei Cam out in those practice arenas."

Cam drew back in surprise, trying to care through the warm haze of kissing. Had he said anything aloud? What was Hunter talking about?

"Which is good," Hunter said quickly, catching sight of his expression. "You're, you know... professional, out there." He hesitated, and something unreadable flickered in his eyes for just a moment. Then he smiled, a sly look to which no description could do justice. "But I like you like this better."

That admission made the entire day worth it. Sometimes it was enough that Hunter saw him, when so many others didn't seem to. That Hunter knew he was more than what he could do, that just because he was good at something didn't mean he cared about it. His mouth found Hunter's again, eyes closing as Hunter leaned into him. He cared about this.

They didn't speak for several minutes, exploring each other carefully, quietly, out of sight of the rest of the Academy for a too-brief period of time. It couldn't last--being too late to dinner would cause more of a scene than skipping it all together--but it was easy and it felt so good. He wished they could see each other more.

"Are you mad?" Hunter whispered in his ear.

He had no idea where that came from, and to be honest, he'd rather kiss. But the question required an answer. "No," he said, taking advantage of the fact that Hunter was wearing jeans. He slid his hands into the back pockets, pressing closer and evoking an appreciative sigh from Hunter.

"You're not talking," Hunter observed a moment later, obviously not distracted enough. "Are you sure you're not mad at me? Or your dad?"

Talking made it real, and real meant he had to think about it. "Dad needs to mind his own business," he muttered. "You were--" He caught his breath as Hunter's teeth grazed his earlobe. "You were fine," he murmured at last.

That seemed to satisfy Hunter, finally, and they were close enough that nothing else seemed particularly important. There was something strange about that feeling, or there had been the first few times he'd noticed it, but now it was just another thing he tried not to think too much about. Hunter was good, being with Hunter was good, and being alone with Hunter was really good. That was all.

And they were going to be really late to dinner.

He finally pulled away, disentangling himself from Hunter with more than a little reluctance. Hunter let him go without a word of protest, but his eyes were glued to Cam as he changed and he didn't even try to hide it. He didn't comment on Cam's clothes, but he smiled when their eyes met and Cam couldn't help returning the expression.

So he could add that to the list of things he couldn't help doing around Hunter. Smiling. Laughing. Admiring. Kissing. Wanting. He really wasn't used to this. He had never dated someone long enough to have an anniversary--which, in this case, was approaching rapidly and without any acknowledgement whatsoever--and it made him nervous. When it wasn't making him crazy.

What was he supposed to do with a relationship that was not only working out but actually seemed to be progressing? Hunter had yet to get bored, angry, or exasperated with him, and contrary to all expectations, Cam's interest had grown rather than fading as it ought. Their continued, even deepening, closeness was as much of a mystery to him as it was to anyone else.

Cam had honestly thought, when they first started going out, that he was only dating Hunter because it was contrary to everything that was expected of him. He was supposed to be the good, responsible son, the one that followed in his father's footsteps. Of course he was the only son, and that had only increased the intangible pressure placed upon him and he had needed to do something that proved he was his own person. That he could make his own decisions, shape his own destiny.

He had no idea why Hunter had asked him out. But his mood had been just bad enough at the time that he agreed, and he had taken a perverse pleasure in doing the unexpected. Not only was he dating a guy, he was also, figuratively at least, dating one of the "bad guys." One his father had every reason to dislike, although he'd told himself it wasn't his father specifically that he was trying to thwart.

Something had changed since then. A lot of things had changed since then, actually, and he hadn't even noticed when those changes began. He had simply realized one day that he found Hunter familiar, maybe more familiar than anyone else on the team. When he couldn't walk away after the Rangers broke up, he had finally known that he wasn't seeing Hunter because of anyone but Hunter himself. And then one night, the shattering revelation that he might, possibly, love Hunter...

They were walking between the tents now, heading for the completed part of campus while Hunter made sarcastic comments about the Wind Academy's inability to finish reconstruction. He was chatty tonight, making up for Cam's quiet. His hands were in his pockets, but he was walking close enough to bump Cam's shoulder every now and then, and he was definitely doing it on purpose.

This wasn't what was supposed to happen. But Hunter was right when he said Cam hadn't inherited all of his father's values. He could live with loving Hunter. He just didn't know--when he let himself wonder--whether Hunter could live with it. Or wanted to.