His life was in tumult, but what else was new? Grayson could only handle so much at once, could only compartmentalize and tuck away each section of his life into its own little corner until they began to press at the boundaries and overlap, and he wasn't prepared for that. With the Surrounding restored and things set to right there, at least for now, he could no longer put off his own personal worries and conflicts; that was the theory, anyway. However, Grayson had become so adept over the years at burying his problems that it wasn't actually all that difficult to just ignore them. If he couldn't throw himself headlong into his life as Leo, then he could work -- he could work hard -- and he could forget about everything else as long as he had something to do with his hands.

It was strange. It was so different from the man he used to be two, even one year ago. The people who had known him then, many of them long quiet beneath the ground, would have scoffed to see him now. Grayson Graves, the boy who'd slept through anything, who had a little bit of extra weight around his hips and who never left his house unless you dragged him out of it, had disappeared. Gone without a trace, it seemed; in his place was a solemn-faced man, scarred to the naked eye and so much deeper. He was quiet, even quieter than he had been before, and his smiles were rare and guarded. Duty was his mantra these days, and he wore dignity and guilt like armor, tucked tightly around the small, shaking core that still couldn't admit, still couldn't grieve, for all he had lost. He wasn't stronger than he had been, and he wasn't better -- he was simply different.

Would anyone be proud? He wondered. There was a hardness to his body now, sharp angles and toned muscles, that told his story better than words: dedication. To the fire academy, to his new volunteer job as a fireman -- to the Zodiac. To himself, but not so much Grayson Graves, who still disappointed him and shamed him, but more to Leo.

What was the real difference anymore, anyhow? Between Grayson and Leo. Save for the fact that one disappointed him, at least the other --

But no, Leo.. was useless too. Still. Getting better, but useless still. He flexed his hands, knuckles aching at the joints, and rolled his shoulders.

"Cold outside," he muttered, to no one in particular. Cold outside, and he was on his way home from work; he'd walked, so he didn't have the benefit of his bicycle for a faster ride. Ah well.

The later he got home, the less likely he was to run into Paul.

The energy signature shouldn't have surprised him, because of course he would run into a youma when he just wanted to go home and be miserable, but he couldn't very well just walk away. Well -- actually, he could -- the number of people who knew that Grayson was Leo could be counted on one hand, and surely there was someone else about.

But no, that had been the old Grayson. Or had it, even? He couldn't recall ever running from a battle before. Regardless, it certainly wasn't an option for him now.

He reached into his pocket, fist curling around his henshin pen, and slowed his walk. There was the unmistakable smear of chaos before him, but there was something else, too; someone? Someone else.

Violet eyes flicked to the right, waiting for the person to show, but the power signature was too far away. Well -- ah well.

The pen wove between his fingers, passing under and over as he calmly spoke his henshin phrase. Light swirled around him, brilliant and blinding for just a moment, and he was enveloped in a familiar, comfortable shell. No longer Grayson Graves, musing about how far he'd come -- how far he hadn't -- but Soldier Leo, calm and adept and capable in the face of a crisis.

His cloak fluttered behind him, nearly hitting the backs of his legs as his transformation completed, but he paid it little mind. There were no theatrics, no wild battle calls; this time, Leo simply sprinted, vaulting up and over a fence to get at the youma whose energy presence was approaching ever-quickly.

It was just business, and business -- unlike his own personal inadequacies -- he could handle.