Rio had yet to take one step away from her safe room door. If the state of Leanne's gym was any indication of what the rest of their flat looked like, she hoped her roommate would never have to come out of hiding and see it. The sanctity of their home had been sullied, as everything lay broken, shattered, smashed and destroyed, almost beyond recognition. It was as if the gorillas had torn at the very structure of the building, vain in their attempt to find her.

Rio picked her way through the wreckage of her Japanese bath, peering through the doorway leading to her bedroom. In there, things had been destroyed so thoroughly that even the bed was gone. She peered around other doorways, finding things much the same, until she heard an unusual noise coming from the living room. It was faint, almost silent, as if an AM radio had been set between stations.

She realized it was the last gasps of her media system, still drawing power somehow from its cord. The television set hung crazily from its bracket, unscathed, turned on and tuned in. She was sure she had turned it off before she and Leanne went into hiding, but it now was on, and the bits and pieces of the media system struggled to broadcast the sound.

Astonishing as that was, something surprised her further. The news continued its coverage of the crisis unfolding in the streets, still using a split screen to show multiple images. The right half showed live footage of the civic unrest. A box inset on the upper left held the talking head of the newscaster, his lips moving in sync to the buzz coming from the broken speakers.

Tears cried all morning long revisited Rio's eyes. Aika, what have you done?

Rio gulped down her sorrow and focused her attention on the image being shown in the third box, below the newscaster's head. A cameraman had positioned himself to offer a wide-angle shot of the lobby inside Marina Hospital. The spacious area had been turned into a medical triage, processing casualties coming in by means other than the emergency room. Hordes of people milled about, while gurneys and piles of personal belongings lay scattered across the floor.

A glass-walled information booth sat in the middle of the scene. Its function on a normal day was to serve as a welcoming center, offering guidance to patients and guests entering the hospital. Today the booth was being used as a nurses' station, under the supervision of a large woman coiffed in flaming red hair. She wore the stark white coat of an intern, and bustled about efficiently, sorting charts and making reports. She took clipboards from assistants who brought them to her, and handed them out with further instruction to doctors and nurses who then waded into the crowd, aiding those who were injured.

Facing this booth on all four sides were banks of hospital furniture. Each bank consisted of four chairs, two tables and one settee. People came and went to sit on the furniture, some crying, some waiting, some grieving.

One settee hosted only one person, who sat upon it unmoving, watching the intern sort charts. The camera's position was far away, making the person appear grainy and small. But Rio knew who he was in an instant. As if realizing she wanted a closer look, the camera zoomed in on the booth.

The man on the settee was Hank.

Rio spent no more time peering around broken corners. Filled with horror and honor and loyalty and fear, she bolted from her flat into the carnage swelling the streets.

As Rio ran to Marina Hospital, her soul could no longer bear burden. She had cast herself in armor blazoned with pride both fierce and strong, and had wielded a sword forged hard from the iron in her blood. Using these, she fought against those who embraced hatred solely for its sake. She fought them without mercy, she fought them without rest, she fought ferociously and with self-sacrifice, so much so that her deeds would earn praise from all Nine of the Worthies.

And yet still, she lost. Like a battle-weary, broken knight errant, she could no longer wield her sword. Her armor lay in ruins, her kingdom laid to waste.

Rio felt nothing, was nothing, and could think of nothing to help or save herself.

Nothing, but for one man.

If only she could run faster.

Then Rio found she could run faster, and when running proved not fast enough, she found she could fly. She shed her useless, rotted armor, and free of it, flew faster. She soared past scenes of strife and misery, sadly realizing she could pay no heed.

Ahead of her was her Angel. Ahead of her was Hank. Ahead, they would be saved.

If only she could fly faster.

Hank bore the armor of a dove, and wielded his heart as a weapon. He dared those who challenged him to not be humbled by his love. In deference to him, Rio sloughed off hate and rage. Now free of these, she flew faster, steering through the crowds.

But oh! There were so many, and in such need of grace. How could her Angel save them?

He would, though. She was certain. Her faith was resolute.

Faster, Rio. Fly faster!

Her belief in Hank had grown deep during the time she'd taken to get to know him, and it propelled her with purpose. Where others had faltered, where she had failed, where even Aika and Milton had failed, she knew he would not.

In his Kingdom, none were forsaken. There was no other way to be.

She rounded the final corner that led to Marina Hospital. The streets and parking lots around it buzzed with frenetic activity. Police cars and rescue vehicles, red and blue lights flashing, steered through throngs of desperate people seeking shelter and care. Paths seemed to open for her as she entered the fray. She slipped through every logjam and reached the doors to the lobby, wondering why they didn't blow off their hinges as she burst through them like fire.

Despite her lengthy journey, Rio found her voice with ease.

"Hank!" she cried into the mob.

Hank searched the crazy crosspatch of people scattered throughout the lobby, seeking the face of the person who had called his name. A fervent foaming surge of passion poured over him like the tide. It was warm and comforting, and strengthened his resolve as he stood and surveyed the room.

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It felt even better when Rio leapt up and wrapped her arms around his neck, surprising him from behind. The force of her assault on his rear made his butt plop back down on the settee. He craned and twisted to look over his shoulder to see who had attacked him, but she continued assailing him, with her hands and hair in his face. She climbed over the back of the settee and sat smack dab in his lap, plastering him with slobbery kisses while squealing in his ear.

"I simply had to be with you. I couldn't take it anymore!"

"Don't be afraid," Hank said as he pried her off to make her sit more quietly beside him. "I kind of need you, too."

She leaned back and held him at arm's length. "Oh, you silly, beautiful man! I'm not afraid anymore! That's why I'm here. I'm not angry either, or sad. I really am okay!"

Hank looked past her beaming smile and took in the room.

"Well, there seems to be a lot to be concerned about today," he said.

She accepted the grave situation. "Hai, but I have you," she said. "All of us have you."

Hank guided her eyes to look down at their hands folded together on the settee. "Rio," he said softly, matching the gravity of her voice. "Aika's dead. They let me identify her body."

The sadness of Rio's entire life, and all its heartless cruelty, visited itself upon her. She buried her face in his strong arms, hoping to hide there forever.

"Please, could I stay in you a while?" she begged.

"There's no place I'd rather you to be."

"Ah, Hank," Rio remarked after the tender moment had passed. She loosened her grasp on him. "What did you do to my clothes?"

He looked her over from head to toe. She wore an oversized turtleneck sweater with cup sleeves, cranberry red and fuzzy. Its hem gathered well below her waist, almost as if it were a dress. Beneath this were gray cotton leggings styled to look like pants. On her feet were nude crew length socks and tasteful, yet practical, matching gray pumps with forty millimeter heels.

"Is there something wrong with what you're wearing?" Hank asked, sounding confused.

"Hank-sama, yes. There is. You saw me get dressed. This isn't what I put on. It isn't even something I own, I don't think. How did I get in them?"

Hank didn't have a clue what to say.

"You did this," she said blithely. After surveying her newfound garb, she smiled and changed her tone. "They're beautiful," she added.

He took her back into his embrace and corrected her. "No, Honey Cup. They're just clothes. You're the one who's beautiful."

"God, I love you so!" she blurted, quite by surprise.

I know. I love you, too.

They held each other in silence, as neither so much as moved.

"I remember this outfit," Rio said in a somber tone, her chin against his chest. "It's from when I lived in Fiji."

"Okay," Hank said warily.

"I left it to come here. There wasn't room in my luggage, you see, and choices had to be made." She snuggled into him deeper. "I've missed it almost every day, wishing I'd bought it along."

"And so… now you have?"

Rio peeked up at Hank from below. "Chigau, Hank-sama. You have."

She managed to snuggle closer by throwing her feet up on the settee and tucking her heels under her butt. After having been brutalized by dread for so many years, she knew that with her savior, the black would never dare stalk her again.

"I'm glad you're here." Hank said. "I'm feeling a lot better."

"Me too!" Rio stood up and swung her body in a comical arc, surveying the teeming humanity. "Do you hear me, filthy bastards?" she called out, loud enough to turn heads. "We're not afraid anymore! You can't hurt us! I'm not scared!"

Hank pulled her down to sit. "Quiet!" he said, shushing her.

"I mean it!" she exclaimed. "I'm not afraid of anyone." She bounced on the settee, peering into the almond butter of his eyes. "You have seen inside me. You know the pain of sadness."

She raised her arms to the heavens. "And goshujin! I am free! You have changed me. Spiritually, mentally…" She laid her hands on his shoulders and examined the clothes she was wearing. "And physically too. I don't know what's going to happen, but I am not afraid. I'm strong and mean and ornery as ever." She took to shaking him hard. "But I will not be afraid! And I won't be sad."

Rio surveyed the room again. "Honest," she said cheerily. "I just wanna find one of those fucking goddamn bad guys and punch him in the mouth. Please, my sweet? Can you help? Find a bad guy to punch."

"No, Honey Cup. I won't."

"Rats," she said before pouting.

"I don't think you'll find one."

"It does seem rather odd," she agreed. "All these people and none bad."

"They followed me here. All of them. I think they're the good guys."

"Every one?" Rio asked, as they numbered in the thousands.

"I think so. Yeah."

"Well then. How about that? They are now your army."

Hank pondered for a moment. "I suppose they are."

"Milton sent me," she added off-handedly, as she continued searching for someone to punch.

"Milton?" Hank repeated, caught off guard by her remark. "He sent you to me?"

"Ah! Did I not say? He is okay too! I mean sort of, anyway. At least he is not dead. Well, of course he's not, because I would notice his Realities going away. At least I should, I think. But it doesn't matter. Milton sent me, so he's not dead, and I know he's okay!"

Rio again took to surveying the room, swinging her arms wide whenever she turned. "And I think he wants us to start a war. Oh! I want someone to punch!"

As Hank considered asking for a sedative to be administered to Rio, the intern managing the triage station stepped out from her booth and walked up. "Hello!" Sehrish said, thrusting a big hand. "You're Aika's friend, aren't you? Right?"

Instead of shaking Sehrish's hand, Rio gave a deep head bow. "Hai. Rio-san. Yoroshiku."

Sehrish beamed while placing her big hand on her bigger hip. "Yes! Rio! That's who you are. We met in passing a few times back, but I don't think we've talked."

Rio bowed again. "Hai, Sehrish. You are correct. Yoroshiku," she repeated.

"You're doing an excellent job in there," Hank said to Sehrish about her triage. "I'm glad they gave the task to you."

Sehrish let out a lungful of air. "Yeah! Thanks! What are the odds, huh? I mean, here you are, and here I am as well. And woo boy! What a day!"

Hank gave her a head bow as well. "I'm sorry about what happened to Aika."

Sehrish cut him off with the thrust of her hand. "I don't want to know any more about it," she ordered, letting on that she already knew. She took in the crowd around her. "I have to keep my head in the game. I'm up to my armpits in this mess!"

"Well, thank you for taking the time to come out and say hello," Hank said to Sehrish for Rio, who kept silent with her head still bowed.

"Yup. You guys take care, okay? It's not safe out there today."

"Thank you," Hank said. "We will."

Sehrish struck her hips with powerful hand slaps. "Gotta go save lives!" she announced, mostly to herself as she returned to her booth.

Hank got Rio to sit and behave. "I can't believe she's here," he said. "It's like someone planned this."

Rio gave Hank a sly look over the rim of her red glasses. "Hai, goshujin," she agreed. "It is as if you did."

Hank returned the look. "I did not see this happening," he said.

"No goshujin. You did not. Reality is not planned. It is ordained." Hank wanted to object, but Rio cut him off. "RMing is not saying 'I want this person to do that.' It is a bigger thing. More universal. You say "I want to help good people win. I want bad guys to lose.'"

Hank pressed Rio to his shoulder as they sat side by side, watching Sehrish work. Her clipboards and reports began piling up, so she started using suction cup hook hangers she found in a desk to stick them on the glass walls of the booth. It soon became hard for anyone to see her, as she papered over the windows.

"Actually, you once said to me that I can make a person do exactly what I want." Hank reminded Rio.

"Ano?" Rio uttered, distracted by Hank's green earth smell.

"You once said that I was careless with my RMing. You said I can say 'I want this person to love me, and in exactly that way.'"

Rio snuggled further, inhaling all of Hank. "And well what do you know?" she replied, recalling what she had said in that long-ago conversation. "Now that person does."

The activity around Sehrish picked up, as more people found their way to the lobby, with many in need of care. The mosaic of clipboards hanging on the walls fluctuated as if alive, with old ones being removed, and new ones being hung up.

"I don't know what to do," Hank confessed, staring at the booth. "I feel like we're losing."

Rio didn't need words to say how she felt.

I have faith. I believe.