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Katana's gaze would find itself following a specific turquoise support. Each time their eyes would meet in point, they never missed the opportunity to pull them in with his three-ply, knotted red rope, and taunt him until their demise. They never fail to notice the dark eyebags in their eyes, and how their shoulders would slouch and their mouth seemingly grumble half-hearted words when they saw the rogue on its way to attack them.
It was the same old routine they had. Katana almost feels pity for targeting the fella a lot, knowing how it feels like to experience never-ending torture by tanks and even range phighters.
Key word: Almost.
Katana never seizes up the chance to make supports’ life a living hell. He has great respect for them, especially if they were on his side. They were amazing at their job, and Katana would come in and protect the supports occasionally if he could.
But if they were on opposite teams?
Katana knows how valuable supports are, if he wants to win, they'll target the valued assets in a team game. No healing or shield? Better chances of getting rid of the other ranks much easier, especially on Annihilate rounds.
But this time, it was... Different. They noticed the difference in appearance of the quote on quote, "doctor."
Their hair was cut into a fluffy mullet, no longer being tied to the back as usual to keep a tidy look. In his opinion, it's better than breaking a hair tie every now and then in the middle of rounds. He was planning on giving him a set of hair ties, considering how Katana has a huge, long chunk of hair, but it looks like it's out of the plan now.
Their white, fluffy, however sharp edges of coif is now accompanied with the matching color of their uniform from behind. It wasn't obvious if you'd look from behind, excluding the few strands that give it away, but it was subtle enough if you squinted hard.
They also had new luxury, golden accessories in their uniform. Not too flashy, it was subtle, and perfect enough for the eyes. It didn't weigh the other down, or did it bring any hard times.
They're not used to the doctor's new appearance, much more preferring the older soft, dull colors. Although, he won't lie if it did look nice on him after noticing the hidden confident behavior radiating every time someone complimented him. Maybe one day he'll find the courage to make a comment or two about his new look. For now, all they can settle on is admiration.
They were snapped out of their thoughts when a familiar sound of laser shooting them from behind almost caught up to him. Right, they should focus on this right now—it just felt almost impossible when Katana's mind kept betraying him.
Each barrel shot from the support would sent a temporary freeze to him, a thrilling feeling enough to set them back on track and focus on the main goal of the game. Once he found a good spot and a nice fair of crowded enemies to kill the green ninja bait, he quickly used his ult and ended up killing two people.
18-15.
The familiar loud, beat-bopping music blasted through the speakers with one of the hosts yelling overtime caused them to all group up together, determined to just finally end the game from there with a victory (or lose. He doesn't mind, after all, losing is one way to learn. They just want proper rest after this round.)
19-15...
19-18...
20-21...
25-21...
"VICTORY GOES TO THE RED TEAM!" Valk exclaimed, their voice loud enough to ring from the stereophonic radios to the whole arena.
"Tough round. Congratulations, Katana." The Blackrock soldier huffed, limping down on the bench with the rogue, energy long gone during Overtime after almost being chased down by the entire team twice if it weren't for a socially awkward melee coming in to save them.
"I accept your praise, though victory is but a fleeting moment. I must stay dedicated and learn." He states firmly, not bothering to comment about the simple but judgemental "hm" from the other—probably not in the mood he assumes.
The lounge was quieter than usual, exhaustion weighing down even the rowdiest of victors. Katana’s eyes wandered until they landed on the same healer again. He doesn't know why they can't take their eyes off of them for months. Maybe they just enjoy their presence a little bit too much. After all, it's somewhat refreshing to be surrounded with a quiet, solemn personality.
It's not that Katana hates the colorful, loud trio knocking on his door at 3 AM to announce that they need to evacuate after almost burning the apartment down. In fact, they enjoy their presence knowing they have his back as a steady support when he is having a bad day or exhausted from training. It's a nice change from...
He shook his head. It's not the time to dwell over a quote on quote "inconvenience."
He watches him carefully.
Not the usual careful glance from across the battlefield, nor the quick scan for openings in combat. This was different. Medkit sat at one of the lounge’s corner tables, hunched over a chessboard with another player—Coil, if Katana recalled correctly. Is that the one Hyperlaser ranted about causing their fraction trouble? They will ask another time.
The way Medkit barely hesitated before sliding a bishop into place, the way their opponent tapped their fingers, uncertain, before losing another piece. The recruit scowled, jaw tightening as their knight fell to a bishop they hadn’t seen coming.
Medkit hardly spoke, only offering the occasional dry remark when the reckless support blundered. “You’re opening yourself up,” he said flatly, before trapping the other’s rook with a knight.
Pieces clicked into place, one after another, handled with the same weary precision the doctor used when reloading their pistol. Katana found himself staring longer than they intended, the small battlefield of black and white oddly captivating.
It didn’t last long. Within minutes, Coil's king was now tipped over. The two shook hands with them grinning and saying some joke that budged Medkit's barriers a little before leaving an empty spot across from Med.
It was then that Katana finally stepped forward without a word. Their shadow fell across the table, and Medkit glanced up, one brow arched as if commanding them to make it quick.
Katana notices it, deciding to go straight to the point than play around the bushes. Otherwise, they might put them in a bad mood (or that's what he thinks at leasr based by the facial expression.)
"The game. I know of it, but not its craft. You play as though it were second nature.” He evenly says.
"It makes your mind sharp." They answered.
"I am the type to learn what sharpens the mind.” Katana’s tone was calm, steady, as though it were already decided.
“I adapt.” they attempt to convince, lowering themselves on the seat. "Teach me."
"If you insist." They pull his chair forward, stretching themselves as if preparing for a tough round.
Well... Tough round of teaching.
“Start with this,” he instructed to which slowly, Katana moved the pawn.
"Each piece is vital and play their own roles. You must protect your king and try to checkmate or take mine down." Medkit moves a pawn too at e5, blocking the first one. "All of them have unique moves. Pawns move straight but attack diagonally. There's a move called En Passant."
"En.. Passant? A French term?" They quirk a brow as if it's visible behind the porcelain mask.
"Two pawns must be beside each other. Normally, pawns attack if there's another pawn diagonally on their way. But on this one, you move your pawn diagonally on one adjacent square. You can only do it if your pawns move exactly three ranks."
"Are there any consequences in applying this move?"
"I'd like for you to find it out yourself later on."
... Seriously now?
The healer could feel a subtle tension in the air, feeling as if Katana was giving them a disappointed glare. Well, he might be. It's hard to figure out what the other is expressing behind that mask.
"A teacher can't rely on words. They also need to demonstrate for you to grasp a concept and learn more." They explain.
"Shouldn't they give the basics first?"
"Basics are useless if you don’t show how they actually work." He took down the knight immediately with a bishop, so close to checking the king.
Katana paused, hand hovering the pieces, hesitating. "But without the basics, the demonstration is just noise you can’t follow." They remarked back, using the rook to attack sidewards based on observing Coil's gameplay earlier.
"Basics alone are empty talk." They fought back quickly with another knight.
"But how will one understand a demo without the foundation?"
"They won’t, but basics alone still won’t stick without seeing them in action." Check.
Katana hissed under his mask, quickly moving his king somewhere safer to avoid getting caught.
"Rooks can't attack diagonally in each square like bishops. You would've made your king vulnerable and open if it weren't for your pawn." They pointed out.
"I'm observing and predicting." He huffs—a poor defensive attempt of covering up their clumsiness.
"Uh-huh.” Medkit’s tone was flat, but there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes.
The match unfolded poorly for him, but not hopelessly. After each loss, Katana paused longer, his eye narrowing as he studied the field. They began to notice a rhythm—how Medkit never left a piece exposed without reason, how every sacrifice came with a hidden trap.
A rook fell, and Katana leaned forward. “You set that up three turns ago…”
Medkit finally lifted his gaze, one brow arched. “Catching on?”
“...Yes.” Katana’s voice was low, thoughtful. Their next move came slower, more deliberate.
But Medkit was merciless. Every blunder was punished, every hesitation devoured.
Minutes stretched into what felt like hours. Katana was half paying attention to even keeping track of the game’s progress anymore. Their eye followed the small details instead: the way Medkit's bangs slipped into their vision and he’d flick his head to the side, the soft exhale through his nose whenever his opponent hesitated, the faint tapping of his finger against the edge of the table as though they were measuring time itself.
... Katana doesn't believe in deities, but SFOTH, it feels like an honor being this close to someone who is so distant and aloof, and they can't help but thank whoever is out there paying close attention to him.
After a while, Katana didn’t move immediately. He studied. Watched. Then slid a pawn two spaces forward. Medkit glanced at the move, then at him. For a flicker of a second, something unreadable sparked in the doctor’s eyes. “... Better.”
A compliment? Quite rare.
"But you could've done better." With a last touch, Medkit officially ended the game by checkmating Katana's king with their queen.
Katana stared at the board in silence, his king cornered, his rook helpless. Defeat was undeniable.
“...I’ve lost.” Their voice was steady, but under the porcelain mask, his jaw tightened.
“Obviously,” Medkit replied, leaning back with that same practiced indifference. He tapped the queen with their finger before resetting it back to its square. “But you lasted longer than I expected.”
Katana tilted their head, surprised. “That is… praise?”
“Don’t get used to it.”
And Katana's lips curved faintly, unintentionally behind.
Medkit gathered the pieces back into their box, movements sharp and efficient. Katana sat across, posture rigid, as though awaiting judgment.
"You learn quickly,” he said at last, not looking up. "Next time, try not to sacrifice half your army for one rook."
"I was testing a strategy."
"You were testing my patience." They rolled his eyes. "Don’t push your luck. You’re sloppy. Hesitant. You think too far ahead but forget the ground under your feet.”
Katana huffed quietly. “Battlefield instincts.”
“This isn’t a battlefield,” Medkit countered, finally meeting their gaze.
He lets it slide, for now. “This match... Though I have lost, I value it.” He confesses.
Medkit slid the last pawn into place, leaned back, and gave a low hum. “Strange way to talk about losing a board game.”
“It is no mere board game. It is… a glimpse of your mind.”
That earned them a short pause. Medkit tilted their head, watching him carefully, then shook it off with a sigh. “You talk too much like a knight out of a fairytale.”
“…Better than being a fool,” Katana countered, though it came out softer than intended.
Silence fell over them. Awkward yet... Comforting.
Katana stood, meaning to leave, but words slipped before they could stop it. “Your… skill is admirable.”
Medkit blinked. “... At chess?”
“At strategy.”
A pause. “Huh. Guess that’s the closest I’ll ever get to a compliment from you.”
Katana cleared his throat, hiding the heat prickling at their neck.
Medkit rubbed the side of his neck, rolling their shoulders back with a sigh. A few strands of hair had shifted loose, catching the dim light.
Katana’s eyes lingered a fraction too long. When they finally spoke, it was level, almost clinical:
“Your appearance has… changed. It is less severe than before.”
"Are you saying it was worse before?"
"No, no. That is not my intention. What I truly mean is the new hue of color and the subtle change in appearance is quite the sight."
"... I appreciate it. You'd look better if your hair is more composed. Nevertheless, it's.. Okay."
"I did not take you to be a stylist." He poked a tease.
"It's merely a suggestion." He looks away, trying to keep it casual. Katana swore they saw a slight red tint paint their cheeks, but they brushed it off for now.
As soon as dawn approached, they said their farewells and have taken their own paths home now.
"Maybe I'll offer them to drink with me some day." Katana mutters to themself.
They look forward to bonding with the doctor soon.