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It's a hassle.
He's the first Date sword since himself to manifest in the citadel. Up until his arrival, Ookurikara had been able to enjoy a room to himself, relative peace and quiet in a place overrun with noisy, friendly sorts that he wants nothing to do with. His room, at least, had been a safe haven, a good hiding place. He had spent a lot of time there, in solitude, when not expected to do battle or chores.
Until his arrival, the room had been somewhere he could retreat to and enjoy in peace. The second Date sword to appear is one Tsurumaru Kuninaga, who on top of being talkative and overly familiar with him, is supposed to share the room with him. It isn't surprising or unexpected; many other swords that were held by the same family or made by the same smith share rooms, with the Awataguchi swords all insist on sharing one room that he can only imagine is awful and overcrowded. It isn't surprising or unexpected, but it is unwelcome and definitely a hassle. With the knowledge he has no choice but to share his space with the newest addition to the citadel, Ookurikara does his utmost to make himself scarce in the fuss that surrounds his arrival.
"Surprise!"
He can't avoid him forever, of course. He can't avoid him even for a whole day. The citadel isn't a particularly large place, after all. The other finds him at dinner and sits himself down beside him uninvited.
"You're surprisingly hard to find," Tsurumaru remarks. "Even though I've been keeping an eye out for you all day."
"Right."
"You don't seem surprised to see me, Kara-bou."
"I'm not."
"That's no fun at all."
Most things aren't, in Ookurikara's experience. They're a hassle. This is no different.
"Ookurikara!"
He's already lying down in his futon when the other enters his - their - room, and upon being addressed, rather than risking being drawn into conversation, he pretends to be asleep.
"Kara-chan!"
Tsurumaru is undeterred. Still, he remains motionless and ignores the other. The other crosses the room to crouch down beside him and starts to poke him in the cheek.
"Kara-bou!"
Whether he's actually asleep or not, Tsurumaru doesn't seem to care. He opens his eyes and fixes them on the walking hassle beside him.
"What?"
"Show me around."
"No."
"No?"
"No," he repeats. "It's time to sleep."
"That doesn't seem like fun."
"It's not."
Tsurumaru gives a thoughtful hum, though doesn't move. Ookurikara closes his eyes again, only to find himself being poked once more.
"Come spar with me, then," he says instead. "I haven't tried that yet."
"No."
"Then we can sleep," Tsurumaru tries as a compromise. "I'm not tired yet. Help me."
"No."
"Do you want to talk instead?"
"No."
"Ehh? It's got to be one or the other."
It doesn't. Tsurumaru isn't backing down though. Resisting the urge to heave an irritable sigh, Ookurikara sits up. He fixes Tsurumaru with a stare and he smiles widely back at him. It's a hassle, but giving in to his demands is probably easier than trying to reason with him. He doesn't much enjoy talking, besides.
He rises to his feet, and Tsurumaru watches him questioningly for only a moment before rising to join him.
"Fine."
"Sparring it is, then," Tsurumaru grins, unperturbed by his attitude. "Lead the way to the training room! I don't remember it, since I've only been shown once."
It's a hassle, but he does as he's asked, or rather told. It's late enough that the halls are mostly devoid of life or activity. Tsurumaru follows him through them in silence, confirming that it is possible for him to keep quiet and stop talking, a fact he can only hope he remembers when they next return to the room they must now share.
Much like the halls that lead them there, the training room is dark and empty, unlikely to be disturbed until morning save for their presence. There's a time and a place for sparring. Tsurumaru has about accepted the latter but not the former. They step inside wordlessly. Ookurikara makes it halfway across the room before looking back to the other.
He sees Tsurumaru draw his sword - his actual sword - and adopt a fighting stance, a wide smile on his lips. It takes Ookurikara a moment to remember that he's new to the citadel, new enough that it's very possible nobody has yet told him they're not supposed to spar with actual swords, lest they sustain injuries. He's new enough that he might not have quite yet put the pieces together; that although they are swords, they now have bodies made of flesh, bodies that can sustain injuries much easier than steel ever could, bodies that take a long time to heal if they're , say, accidentally cut through a mishap through sparring.
Tsurumaru stands at the ready, watching him expectantly, Instead of informing him of the rules of the citadel, Ookurikara draws his own blade instead, and Tsurumaru's smile only widens. It'll be fine. Probably. He doesn't sweat the details.
He's new, but he's quick. Tsurumaru makes the first move, fast enough that Ookurikara almost fails to block him. The next strike he manages to parry. It isn't his intention to take this seriously, to actually fight Tsurumaru. His sparring partner doesn't seem to feel the same way.
With every strike he fails to land, Tsurumaru ups the ante. With every move he evades, he tries something new. With every blow he parries, the next becomes more creative, more unexpected. Before long, he finds them both out of breath and exerting far more effort than he usually might during sparring practice. He's new; but he isn't young, nor is he inexperienced. Though his body might be new, though he might not have much practice in it, he manipulates it artfully.
With every blow, every strike, every clash of steel, they push one another further. As they run out of techniques, they improvise, become more creative and more scrappy and learn more about each other in this way than words could ever convey. There are no words spoken, and he prefers it this way. This is how they're getting to know each other, this is how it should be.
He doesn't know how much time has passed, how noisy or quiet they might be, when all he can hear is the clashing of their swords, their swift steps on the ground and his heart pounding in his chest. He doesn't realise he's smiling until he lands the first and only blow.
It's a simple matter, a feint that Tsurumaru falls for. Or at least, it would be a simple matter, if not for his sword piercing through cloth and flesh. His sword runs Tsurumaru through, and both their smiles falter in unison, eyes widening. His in horror, Tsurumaru's in shock, pain. He makes a soft sound of surprise before sinking to his knees. Ookurikara moves without conscious input to catch him.
"Shit."
He withdraws his sword swiftly, Tsurumaru making a choked, pained sound as a result. He doesn't dwell on it before moving to support the other and take him out of the room, to get help.
It's a hassle.
From the moment he brings Tsurumaru to the repair room, the citadel is in a tizzy and there are too many questions, too much going on for his liking. Their master wants a full report, of course, even though there isn't much to tell. He explains. He makes no excuses. But their master doesn't seem satisfied.
It's a hassle. If he had known it would cause so much trouble, he wouldn't have done it, he thinks. No sooner than he does, does his mind flash back to their sparring match, to the rush he had felt, how much he had ended up enjoying it. Tsurumaru will be fine, he'll recover, he's told. Ookurikara finds it hard to regret his actions.
He visits Tsurumaru in the repair room, where he appears to be in high spirits in spite of his injury and back to being excessively talkative. He comes here of his own volition, had intended to do so even before their master suggested he do the same. Still, he comes here, and whatever concerns anyone else has, Tsurumaru lights up at the sight of him.
"You came!"
"Yeah." Tsurumaru laughs, as though there's something entertaining about this fact, or his answer. He doesn't question which as he sits himself down before him. "How are you doing?"
"Fantastic, nothing a few hours in here can't fix, apparently," Tsurumaru grins, patting at the area around his wound and wincing at the motion, before laughing again. "These bodies are interesting things, aren't they?"
"Yeah."
Tsurumaru doesn't chastise him and he doesn't apologise, even if their master has already told him he should do the latter. After visiting him, he finds it harder to regret their sparring match still.
It's still a hassle. In the days to follow, the citadel is abuzz with the news of their sparring match, the details skewed and speculated upon. Everyone knows that he injured Tsurumaru, that he stabbed him, though the fact that it wasn't on purpose has become lost in the gossip. It continues on, even when Tsurumaru is released from the repair room and able to join in on the conversation.
"It was my bad," he overhears Tsurumaru laughing to a handful of tantous who had questioned him on the subject of his injury in a corridor. "I didn't know we weren't supposed to use our actual swords. I attacked first, you know."
Even though Tsurumaru deflects the attention from him, some of the other swords are still wary of him. This is fine; if they avoid him, it's less of a hassle to him overall.
It's mere days later when Tsurumaru is dispatched on an expedition. This isn't unexpected or unusual; all the new swords are expected to take to the field and gain experience like the rest of them. Usually their master sets them up for an easy enough mission, something routine, to help them learn how things are done, to get used to their new bodies and the situation, to learn what their enemy is like.
Ookurikara does not join them. Instead, he is relegated to field duty, as has become standard in the days since his sparring match with Tsurumaru. Whether their master is trying to punish him or teach him a lesson is anyone's guess. Ookurikara doesn't much care, even if he would easily prefer fighting enemies to fighting weeds. It's a hassle, but he doesn't think much of it. It's an easy mission, anyway. It should be uneventful.
Tsurumaru returns injured nonetheless.
He hears about it second-hand, over dinner, how he was injured in battle. Injured enough to have been brought to the repair room instantly upon their return, where he had remained since. This explained his conspicuous absence in the fields, where Ookurikara had expected to see him upon hearing of his return, to cause some sort of chaos or other and be a hindrance to his chores. He says nothing, doesn't join in on the conversation, and excuses himself from the room the moment he has finished eating. Nobody questions where he's going.
He visits the repair room of his own volition once more, with nobody else suggesting he do the same this time around. The moment he steps through the door he's thrown back to the same action days prior, finding Tsurumaru in much the same way as he had been then. His features light up at the sight of him this time, too.
"Yo!" Only his greeting is different.. "Kara-bou!"
"Yeah." Ookurikara's isn't. "You're injured."
"Again," Tsurumaru agrees with a laugh. "Guess I must be clumsy, huh?"
"You're not."
"Ohh?" Tsurumaru replies. "You sound so sure."
"I've fought you," he replies. "So?"
"So what?"
"What happened?"
"I got stabbed," Tsurumaru shrugs. "By the enemy."
"By accident?" he prompts, and Tsurumaru blinks at him in surprise before breaking into a wide smile. "No."
"No," Tsurumaru agrees. "On purpose. You don't seem surprised at all."
"Why?"
"It makes me feel alive," he replies. "I had never felt anything so intense. I had never felt anything at all before we got these bodies, but the burst of pain when you stabbed me made me feel really, truly alive."
"Don't do that."
"What?" Tsurumaru asks. "Get stabbed?"
"By the enemy?"
"Oh? What about by you?" he asks, before laughing at his deadpan expression and continuing nonetheless. "It wasn't as fun, anyway. Being stabbed by the enemy. Guess I prefer being stabbed by you."
It's a hassle. He's a hassle. Ookurikara sighs.
"You're weird."
"You think so?"
"I know so."
Tsurumaru doesn't argue. Instead he laughs again, before laying himself back down and staring at the ceiling. He's silent for a moment before heaving a sigh.
"Well, I guess being stabbed to feel alive is out, then," he says. "What now?"
"We'll find something else."
"Oh?" Tsurumaru sounds genuinely surprised. "Something better?"
"Yeah."
"We? Together?"
It's a hassle. He's a hassle. But his answer is easy enough.
"Yeah."