If someone were to tell him that he was to be the leader of their party a few weeks ago, Haruhiro probably would have laughed at them.

He liked to think that he was a pretty realistic person who didn't wallow in his own self-delusions. He was average. Maybe he was even on the lower quartile of average if he were being honest. Standing at 165 cm, he was shorter than Manato's 178 cm tall stature, and dwarfed by Moguzo's massive 185 cm figure. He possessed a rather average face with dull brown hair and even duller brown eyes. Nothing about him particularly stood out either, which he supposed could be good or bad. He wasn't charismatic like Manato. He was painfully shy and awkward, and struggled to hold a conversation with someone he didn't know.

To sum it up: Haruhiro wasn't leadership material in the slightest. Now, if he was the Haruhiro from a few weeks ago, he would have simply accepted the fact, and try to elect someone else in his stead to lead. Except so many things had happened since then.

Perhaps the biggest thing being Manato. A day he will never forget.

Haruhiro looked down at Manato's prone form. He was sweating profusely and wheezing loudly, each labored breath seemed to cause more blood to dribble out the side of his mouth.

"Manato, tell us! What should we do?" He pleads his eyes wide with fear. His entire body is shaking. Manato tries to speak, but instead gurgles something incoherent, flecks of blood splatter onto his face.

Tears are streaming down Manato's face; his eyes are clouded with pain, and focus on him. A shaky hand slowly reaches out to him.

"Sor..ry…"Manato croaks, more tears welling up and rolling down his sweaty and grimy face. He grabs the trembling hand and squeezes, absentmindedly noting how weak Manato's grip is.

"What? Why are you apologizing? What, Manto? What?" He demands hysterically. Manato weakly pulls him close, so that their noses are almost touching. His eyes lock with his own. There is such determination, pain and sadness within them.

"Counting… on you…"

"Counting on me? Counting on me to what? You have to tell me or I won't know!" Despite the tears and the pain and the blood, Manato's lips quirk up in a weak smile, before his face slackens and the life leaves his eyes. The rest of his body relaxes, and he sinks into Mogzo's armored lap.

"Manato! Manato! No way. Manato!" He screams. Think. What can he do? He turns to the nearest person. "W-we have to stop the blood. And do mouth-to mouth!"

The demand jolts the rest of the group into action. Yume scrambles to make a bandage out of her cape, while Yume fumbles into her pack for any curatives.

"The arrow, we need to pull it out!"

"Lay him down gently!"

The rest of that day was sort of a blur to him. He remembers trying to resuscitate him for almost an hour. He remembers how they rushed their leader to the Arch-Priest's temple.

"Please, I beg of you! Please save Manato!" He implores, falling to his knees and prostrating himself before the Arch-Priest. "I'll do anything, so please! PLEASE!"

The Arch-Priest briskly whisks by his sunken form and gently lays Manato's body on the altar.

"Please…" he cries. He watches as the old priest look down on his leader's body, laying a hand on Manato, assessing the damage. But instead of performing a spell, which is what Haruhiro expected, the priest lowers his hands, releasing slow sigh.

"Why? WHY NOT?!" He screams. Fury and despair and sadness and grief all coursing through his veins. The Arch-Priest turns to him, his face seemed even older, if that was possible. When they locked eyes, he saw a deep weariness and sadness – this old man had seen the worst of what the world had to offer.

"No one can bring the dead back to life."

"No. This must be a mistake," he mutters to himself, hoping – PRAYING – that this was all just a bad joke. "Yes, we let our guard down a little back there. But… but, we managed to scrape by today, too."

He doesn't even know what he's saying at this point. But Mogzo gently pries him away from the Arch Priest, and it seems like all the energy leaves his body. He sags into Mogzo.

"You must give him a proper funeral," the Arch-Priest says heavily. "Those who are not buried properly turn into the No Life King's servants"

"A-are you saying we need to c-cremate Manato?" Mogzo asks.

"That is correct," the Arch-Priest replies stoically. Hearing that, a cold fury washes over him. He pushes Mogzo away from him. He glares at the old man. Hating him for how indifferent he seemed to be.

"And I assume… that costs money?" He asks lowly, barely containing the mounting rage.

"If you don't have the funds, I will – " The Arch-Priests flat, emotionless tone caused something to snap.

"NO!" He snarls. He wouldn't take this man's money. Not now. Not ever. The Arch-Priest's glower at his disrespect quelled his anger somewhat.

"No thank you," he says again in a quieter tone. "Manato is my… is our…"

He couldn't finish. He choked on his own words as tears blurred his vision. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop them. He clenches his eyes and lowers his head, ashamed at revealing weakness in front of this cold, emotionless man. He took a shuddering breath.

"Our… friend."

Haruhiro would never forget how he felt.

Ironically enough, what made him finally fully embrace his role as the party's leader was Ranta.

"Don't give up!" That's right. He's not going to give up, and he will keep living. But he'll do it to the best of his ability - which was partially why he was sitting in one of a café overlooking the small city with several tomes and books about hunters, dark knights, knights, mages, and priests.

It had been several days after their foray into the Cyrene Mine, and he decided that he really didn't know much about the classes of his other friends. So while his teammates were off doing whatever, he decided to stop by all the other guilds, and learn about the basics of each of them. After gathering all the books and speaking to the right guild masters, he found a small café nestled in the upper tiers of the city, ordered himself some coffee, and promptly began to dig into the books.

While Haruhiro wasn't much of a talker, he was an avid reader. For some reason, he always found it more relaxing staring up at the stars, or reading a good book. While he enjoyed fantasy and fiction, the tomes provided by the guild master provided interesting insights into the roles, training, and trials and tribulations that each of his teammates had to undergo in order to become journeymen in their trade. He made sure to carefully take notes about certain aspects of the class – its limitations, benefits, paradigms. That's another thing he was proud of – his handwriting. His inherently steady hands which were used for lockpicking and other skilled tasks afforded him neat handwriting as well. There was something immeasurably pleasing about looking at neat, evenly spaced, and consistently sized script.

It was around late afternoon, and the sun cast a warm orange glow throughout the city, and reflected off the ocean, setting the city aglow with hues of orange, yellow, and blue. Currently, he was reading one of the tomes about priests.

The Mage does not fare well against most enemies that come within close proximity. Most enemies tend to kill Mages within a few strikes since most enemies inflict physical damage. Long range attack can also interrupt a Mages' cast time and are particularly deadly.

He felt a pang, as he read more about a Mage's exploitable weaknesses. If only he had known back this, then he wouldn't have had Manato fight in the front with the rest of them. He was so stupid! He would have kept him in the back with Shihoru. If only…mrrrowwww

Haruhiro looked down, to see a badger snuffling at his feet. He smiled as the tip of its wet nose gently nudged at his boot.

"There you are Pan-san, I've been… oh… Haru?" a soft female voice said behind him. Haruhiro looked up to see the owner of the voice: a lean girl in a white sundress that accentuated her figure nicely. The dying sun caught into dark hair, making it appear more dark blue than black, and deep sapphire-colored eyes that seemed to twinkle. Standing before Haruhiro was none other than Mary, the team's resident priest.

Her normally stoic face was softened with a look of curiosity laced with a hint of surprise.

"Hey Mary," Haruhiro greeted back, offering her a small wave. He noted the page he was on, before carefully closing the thick tome. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same question. You've been gone all day, and I was wondering where you went."

Haruhiro motioned for the seat next to him. Mary flashed him a small smile before gracefully sliding into the seat.

"I was catching up on some readings," Haruhiro explained, motioning towards the pile of tomes and books on the table.

"Oh?" Mary peered at the cover of the tome. "Planning to become I priest I see."

"Wha-? No! I wouldn't…" He sputtered, looking at her with wide eyes. He saw the slight uptick of her lips, and the way her eyes sparkled mischievously at him. "Oh… you're joking. Hehe."

"I just thought it would be a good idea to learn about everyone's classes and abilities. I know it may sound dumb or creepy, but maybe I can understand everyone better if I can understand how they fight…" He trailed off self-consciously. He averted his eyes and stared at the books while nervously scratching the back of his head.

"I think that's a great idea," Mary disagreed lightly. His eyes tentatively slid up to look at her. His breath caught as he looked at the gentle smile she aimed at him. He felt his face heat up, and he quickly averted his gaze to the sunset.

"Everybody has things they aren't good at or can't do. We cover each other's weakness. That's what a party's for," Haruhiro murmured pensively, parroting the exact words that Manato had told them. Mary nodded, silently looking out across the valley.

"Since I am here, and I am a priest, is there anything you would like to know about the class?" Mary asked, breaking the silence between them.

"Uh – yeah… I mean yes please! That would be great actually. I wasn't quite sure about how you replenish your magic. The book didn't go into much detail," Haruhiro responded eagerly.

"Okay. So meditation…"

Haruhiro closely watched her as she explained meditation and what it did for priests. However, he was only half-paying attention to what she was saying, and absentmindedly scribbling down notes on what she said. Instead, he was watching as she calmly spoke, her eyes reminded him of a lake, tranquil but with such a great depth to it. There was a certain life to her that she lacked when they had first met. The small gesture of her hands when she spoke, and the way her face relaxed ever so slightly, warming her icy exterior. Even her once unfriendly and cold voice had thawed, revealing a quiet, yet pleasing intonation. He found himself admiring her.

"…Haru?" Mary's soft tone broke him out of his reverie. "Is everything okay? You were staring. "

"Ah – uh," He stammered, embarrassed and surprised at being caught.

"It's just that you've changed since we first met you," Haruhiro said quietly, hoping she wouldn't take it the wrong way. "You're so strong. I – I just want you to know that."

Mary looked taken aback by his sudden statement. Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second, before they softened, and a small smile graced her features.

"Haru, I …" Mary began, but was cut off by the evening bell, signaling that nighttime was beginning. Haruhiro looked at the deep purple sky and dying orange light, and was shocked to see how much time had passed. He stood up.

"It seems like it's almost time to meet with the rest of our party. Shall we?"

Mary opened her mouth as if to say something, but then closed it. She smiled softly to herself.

"Sure. Let's go."