I'll manage somehow!

“It’s not that I don’t believe you, you’re just…”

–… Ugh, this conversation was going nowhere incredibly fast. Geez, for 700 or 900 years old or whatever, Namazuo certainly didn’t act like it…and on top of that, he was still insisting on calling Rouga a baby…! Small wonder why people might not take this ‘wakizashi’s’ claims seriously!

Heaving a tired sigh, Rouga reached out, settled a hand on Namazuo’s head…and without warning, pushed down. Hard.

“… How about this? Quit calling me a baby and not only will I stop questioning your ‘seniority’–I’ll also not squash you down to tantou-size right here and now.” 

What Namazuo had initially thought to be a nice head pat turned into what felt like 300 gigatonnes of pressure, all focused on the top of his head. 

“Owww ow ow ow...! You wouldn’t do really that, would you?! There’s only one other wakizashi in the Awataguchi school! But there are already so many tantous! You won’t be able to tell me apart from any of them if you turned me into a tantou!”

He was greatly exaggerating, yes.

In hindsight, someone claiming to be a literal sword was probably not the strangest thing Rouga had heard of in the two years he’d spent in Hive City. Really, if he was being honest, it barely made the list of Unbelievable Situations and Claims he’d started keeping track of sometime back–not when he compared it to otherworldly rifts and alternate selves, reverse-aging, or being thrust into pocket dimensions and repeatedly forced to relive the darkest, loneliest moments of his life to date. 

He was ready to concede that, too–suspend his disbelief and resign himself to the impossible reality that the warm, energetic, undeniably human individual in front of him was actually an anthropomorphized katana. As he started to open his mouth to respond, however…–

“You’re still a kid, right? You’re practically a baby compared to me!”

What.

“……”

Rouga, for the most part, was largely unconcerned by his age. He didn’t have a complex over it like Tasuku, but neither did he revel in the immaturity most often expected of his age group. No. He simply let those types of things be, thinking of them as minor details rather than as identifying characteristics or anything of ultimate significance.

He did, but…being more or less called a baby was a little…–

“… Somehow…hearing a comparison like that from a shorty who doesn’t look all that much older than me is kind of annoying.”

“Ehhhh! Calling me a shorty is so mean! I’m only this height because I’m a wakizashi! When I was a naginata, I was much taller and bigger... I couldn’t really choose the form my master manifested me in, you know?! And I had no control over being reforged!”

“You really don’t believe me? Even though I look like this, I’m around 700 years old, you know... 900 years in my current master’s time! I’m no grandpa, but that’s definitely way older than you, right? After all, humans age and change a lot faster than we swords do.”

Or...was he misunderstanding the concept of a “baby?” Namazuo still had a couple of gaps in his memories, after all...

No sooner had he given the (reluctant) go-ahead than Namazuo was upon him, arms vice-like around Rouga’s waist as the hapless teen simply did his best not to be knocked backwards. 

‘Still nice to hug,’ he said… Frankly, Rouga had a hard time believing that–especially when he considered just what he’d been like around the time Namazuo had first met him. Bitter and broken and only just barely holding himself together; reluctant to trust and quick to lash out. When he thought about it, two years wasn’t a very long time at all…yet he almost felt like he’d been a completely different person back then. No–he definitely had been.

Explaining everything that had happened since Namazuo disappeared from the city… Where was he even supposed to start?

“Yeah…though it feels like it’s been longer.” Rouga admitted, relief washing over him when Namazuo eventually saw fit to release him from his iron grip. Seriously…for someone of his stature, wasn’t the other boy way too strong…? 

“A lot’s changed, but I guess it could be worse. I’m still kicking, at any rate.”

Never mind the near-death experiences and one actual death he’d suffered in the past two years, but Namazuo didn’t need to know about those.

“… So when’d you get dragged back here? A few days ago? Still telling people you’re a sword, I see…”

“I can tell, I can tell~ Well, it seems to have been for the better, right? Change for the better is a good thing, so don’t worry about it! And being alive still is the most important thing of all!”

Namazuo, for one, was happy to see that Rouga was still here. They came from different worlds; he’d never be able to see him otherwise unless dimensional rifts and Primal Beasts were involved.

“Something like that! Maybe a week? Ah...”

“But I...am a sword? Do you not believe me...? Ah, I guess this is why the others don’t tell humans... It makes sense... I just thought it’d be okay since we’re in a different world...”

The last part was muttered to himself as more of an aside before Namazuo looked up again.

Excited and eager to dismayed and then back again to elated and good-humored… It seemed that for all the change Rouga had experienced these past two years, Namazuo Toushirou had more or less remained his same peppy, exhausting self. That was…probably a good thing? Yeah. If the guy could still maintain that near-constant sunny disposition, he’d probably managed to keep out of trouble in his absence.

… Probably.

“How’ve you been, Rouga-san? You seem a little different than when we last met each other.” 

The corners of Rouga’s mouth quirked upwards in a small, wry smile. ‘A little different’ was arguably a massive understatement given the nature of everything he’d been through since their last meeting, but there was no real need to get into any of that now–or rather, not enough time before Namazuo pressed on with a question that, in hindsight, Rouga most likely should have expected a follow-up on.

Hugs. Urgh.

“………”

Honestly, he still didn’t love them. While it was true that he now reacted to hugs (from people he knew, anyway) with barely a fraction of the aggression or resistance that he might have in years past, that kind of flagrant affectionate display still had a tendency to make him uncomfortable more often than not. There were exceptions, of course, but it was embarrassing and hugs in particular were mildly restrictive and–

–… and he couldn’t exactly say ‘no’ to someone he still owed a debt, could he. Hah… Well, there were worse things someone could ask of him, he supposed…

“… If you must.”

“Really?! Don’t mind if I do!”

And with that long awaited acceptance, Namazuo threw his arms around Rouga’s middle and hugged him tight.

“Yay~! You’re still as nice to hug as before I got kicked out of Hive City, heheh...”

Never mind that Rouga had tensed up considerably, which Namazuo seemed blissfully unaware of. It was almost like clinging onto a tree. A very warm tree. Namazuo did like that feeling of stability.

When he decided he had tormented Rouga enough, Namazuo let go, beaming more happily than ever.

Namazuo Toushirou. Namazuo Toushirou…the name definitely rang a bell, but where and when had he–?

…

Wait. Years ago, when he’d first been dragged into this sadistic science experiment…–when there had been a limit on Cerberus’ Buddy Skill. He hadn’t been aware of it at all, and he’d fallen out of the sky. He hadn’t ended up a bloody, scrambled mess on the streets of Hive that day though, because–

“Wait a–Toushirou…?!”

Of course–! The weirdo that had claimed to be a sword! The one that’d broken his fall and–damn, it had certainly been some time and plenty had happened since them to preoccupy him, but seriously? To forget a person who’d undoubtedly saved his life? He hadn’t even repaid Namazuo for that before he’d disappeared from the city, had he…?

“… So you’re…back here again.”

Smooth as butter, Aragami.

“I’m back!” he announced with vigor, as if getting sucked back into Hive City was some kind of accomplishment. It was more like Namazuo was happy that Rouga had remembered him after all.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s me! Namazuo Toushirou! Don’t forget me next time, okay?” 

“How’ve you been, Rouga-san? You seem a little different than when we last met each other.” More relaxed, more open, and a lot more mellow. The Rouga of the past always seemed to be throwing a bitter scowl over his shoulder, but the Rouga before him gave him a different impression.

After living for at least a few years in Hive City, it could be said that Rouga had more or less acclimated to the…quirks, of its residents, as well as accepted the fact that in this place, one should always expect the unexpected. Precious few things genuinely surprised him these days, and even when he did find himself taken aback, it took only a handful of seconds for the wry cynicism to set in again. 

Usually, anyway. Today was a little different, what with this black blur shouting after him at the top of its lungs as it sprinted towards him at mach speed. That was a bit startling. (Normally it was blue.)

“…………”

“Do I know you…?”

“Eeeehhhh!” 

That cold response, from a person he had come to admire and grow fond of... How painful...!

“That’s so mean! It’s me, Namazuo Toushirou! Don’t you remember me?”

Though it wouldn’t be the first time he was forgotten by someone he cared for and loved dearly. Not that that time, or this one, was anyone’s fault. He frowned at Rouga’s continued blank expression.

“R-rebelling, huh…” Wondering where the other would have gotten such a far-fetched idea–it was probably best to leave it at that, however–Horikawa pulled out a medium sized pot to dump all of the cut vegetables in, placing it aside as he moved back to the trimmed meat still sitting on the cutting board. 

“Oh! That’s right I had forgotten… um…” Now cracking a single egg into a small bowl–they probably wouldn’t need anymore than that, considering how thin and small the pork chops were–and dispensing a bit of flour into another, Horikawa handed the bag of panko for Namazuo to open up, all the while turning around to look for an able pan to use.  “How about this: We can divvy up the pork slices and make half with the panko and the other half in a pan fry? Does that sound fair?” Though Horikawa’s only concern at this point in time was if the other wakizashi knew what he was handling when it came to preparing his assumed special pan fry…

“Do you want to do yours first before we deep fry the rest?”

“Ehh... But then we’ll only have half the pork for both panfrying and the curry... We’re gonna go hungry if that happens...”

It was just basic math, which he apparently hadn’t factored in his enthusiasm for pan fried pork chops. He frowned, dissatisfied with the outcome, but shrugged. 

“Can’t be helped. Let’s just do your thing and save the pan frying for another time. That way we’ll have lots to eat tonight!”

He opened up the panko and helped with Horikawa as and when needed.

“Heheh... Cooking like this together is fun, right?”

“It’s almost like we’re back in the Citadel again. Even in a dinky place like this, we’re making new memories.”

A bit of melancholy had drifted into his tone of voice, but it was gone in an instant. As soon as Horikawa took his hands off the bowl, Namazuo grabbed it and held it over his head.

Ever the troublemaker keeping Horikawa on his toes, he should have known better than to easily let his guard down around Namazuo and a pricey appliance. Nestling a heavy hand atop his head firmly, almost as if in warning to watch himself, Horikawa then crouched down beside him to look at the brand new rice cooker.

“Um… usually we would boil the rice in a large pot, but this is supposed to be more economical from what sold me on it. Let’s look at the instruction booklet before we go pressing anything we’ll regret later.”

Taking a look at the inserted pamphlet and scanning over the listed directions, it seemed simple enough, reading off to Namazuo just exactly the amounts of rice and water he would need, including the right buttons and dials to set.

“Okay… now that that’s all ready to go, how about you take care of the vegetables while I trim the pork chops? If you can do that I’ll let you help me bread them in the panko.”

“Leave it to me!”

The overly eager Namazuo all but leapt at the opportunity to do more and seemed oblivious to Horikawa’s (admittedly necessary) attempts to keep him under control. It was just like cooking with his siblings. Though it was just the two of them, Namazuo was already having fun.

“Alright, they’re all chopped! We’d better cook’em before they start rebelling, yeah? Otherwise we’ll have a Vegetable Retrograde Army on our hands!”

There was no telling where Namazuo could’ve gotten such a ridiculous image in mind.