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The swordsman rose just before the sun, taking this time to stretch his sore, aching muscles. Slow, deep breaths to expand the diaphragm as the power resonated from within. Once complete, he gently folded his bedsheets, lying them on his futon, and concluded with a short prayer. A little hope to push him through the day; the fight against corruption.
To freshen up, Katana splashed cool water into his face. Brushing his teeth as any inphernal should, his tired expression in the crooked mirror. He, after some thought, had invited another to his residence. Hyperlaser, said to spend the day with Katana. Knowing this sprouted some qualms, a deep sense of unease as he tried to get his hair right. Yet it defied him once more, the swordsman stewing. He still doesn’t quite understand its refusal to cooperate; nonetheless, he snatched a yukata from the dresser. Loungewear, to put it bluntly, and made his way downstairs.
Flames ignited beneath a pot, broth set to boil, as the swordsman gathered vegetables for flavor, the faint smell of earth when they’re washed. Come to think of it, when was Hyperlaser supposed to show? Should Katana cook for two? Would he even enjoy it? Katana recalls speaking with his neighbor about breakfast options, the little baker. It may not be so bad… so long as Hyper doesn’t have a fish or dairy allergy.
When it came to setting the table, Katana never gave it much thought; however, with a potential guest, even the smallest of imperfections got to him. Constantly adjusting the obi belt of his yukata to ease his nerves, wondering if his hair was in check until eating, the whole point of his efforts, had become a forgotten conquest.
Finally, the dreaded knock came. Had he arrived?
Katana looked down, his ears twitching. “You… came.”
“In the flesh,” Hyper waved, adorned in long sleeves, combat pants, and a large coat. This was the first either had seen one another in civilian clothes, let alone Katana without his mask. Hyperlaser still retained his helmet. “Were you hoping I wouldn’t?
“... Allow me your shoes and other garments,” Katana stepped aside, “Have you eaten anything at all, Hyperlaser?”
“Nothing but a light snack,” Hyperlaser handed off his boots and a drawstring bag. “Knew you wouldn’t let me stave.”
“Indeed.”
Hyperlaser followed the swordsman inside, admiring the furnish and decor until they reached the dining table.
“I hope the food hasn’t gone too cold,” Katana pulled a chair for Hyper. “And my deepest apologies if you wish for something different… this is what I usually eat in a day.”
“Ah, it’s fine. Everything looks great, in fact.” Once sat, Hyperlaser took interest in every dish, the contents of every plate: fish, soup, a bowl of rice, and an egg yolk of all things. “May I ask about the egg yolk?”
Katana, sitting across from Hyper, answered, “It is not common to combine egg yolk with your rice, so I separated it.”
“I see.” Hyper swirls the bowl’s contents as the steam fogs his visor. He wonders what to tackle first. “And the soup?”
“It is called ‘miso soup’,” the swordsman answers, stirring his rice. “Rather than meat, it utilizes tofu and other garnish.”
“Interesting.”
Hyper merely watched for a moment, indulging in Katana’s mannerisms. Viewing sides of the large man he’d never seen. It took his mind away from the quiet fear bubbling inside him. And this hesitation wasn’t unwarranted either, no. For someone like him, a mercenary is never quite safe. But to remove his helmet, to willingly place yourself at the mercy of another… is tantalizing. Something he hadn’t grappled with in years nor considered on his long journey here… until now.
But the soup was getting cold, and his heart was hungry. Burning with the same curiosity that refused to harden. His hands hesitated at the locks of his helm — once, twice — before the hiss of pressure filled the room, and Hyperlaser’s face, torched and disfigured, was revealed.
Katana wasn’t phased; rather, privy to the way Hyperlaser’s hands hovered near his utensils, steady from his fork to the first bite. How his jaw moved around the unfamiliar flavors, and when his eyes brightened. Though, something may have gone down the wrong pipe.
“You alright?” Hyper chuckled. He looked toward Katana, but it was clear his eyes were not fixed on him. “You have to chew your food, you know.”
“Yes- hm, I am… fine,” the swordsman answered, his face warm.
“The egg yolk and rice… it’s more of an acquired taste, but – definitely something I could get used to.” Hyperlaser went on, then took another mouthful. He failed to notice the bit of rice that spilled, drawing his fingers against the table in search of that fish.
“What do you usually fancy?”
“Oh, probably… The most I eat is a sandwich on a good day. Maybe pizza if I’m feeling a little self-indulgent,” Hyper blinked once he found the plate. “Other than that, meal packets. Sludge with all the nutrients you need! Doesn’t account for flavor, though.”
“That is… due to the nature of your work, yes?” Katana asked, smoothing out non-existent folds in his wear.
“You could say that. I ain’t got a lot of time to really sit down and fix a meal. Let alone having the energy to.”
“I could… prepare meals intermittently,“ Katana blubbered out, his regret just as imminent.
“... Hehe, sure.”
The two continued in stoic silence; Hyper blown away with every unique flavor as some warmth blossomed in his chest. Gratitude, to put it simply, for this shared space and a home-cooked meal. Something believed to be abandoned for good. It could almost bring a tear to his eyes. And my god, his smile — so, so charming. The swordsman was smitten and he didn’t like it. He didn’t like it one bit. Not a finger had been lifted yet his heart beat as if his life had fallen on the line. And this meal wouldn’t be the end of it.
“Thanks.”
“Hm?” Collecting their dishes, Katana paused. “On your right, Hyperlaser.”
“Oh, I- Thanks… for inviting me! Heh,” he said, rubbing his arm. “I appreciate it.”
“It is only natural, considering our companionship.” the swordsman replied. His horns blushed a bold blue at their ends.
“Also, perchance,” Hyperlaser asked. “Is there any soup left?”
“I’ll see to it, and possibly, provide you a recipe as well.”
Even with the dishes in the sink, the day wasn’t done. Hell, it was still morning, but Katana’s contending activities weren’t very broad. “As you know,” the swordsman began, “I do not source entertainment; rather, I spend the day strengthening my discipline.” He rolled out two mats and placed a long coffee table between them. A short glass at its center. “Whether this be meditating or training, every step matters.”
“You take up gardening, too?” Hyperlaser teased, gesturing toward a plant protruding through the bamboo floor.
“Ah, my… neighbors. Their garden seems to have a mind of its own,” Katana went to pluck the vine, but watched as Hyper quickly disposed of it with a small switchblade. “... Thank you. Those weeds are quite troublesome.”
“No worries,” Hyperlaser fanned in response. He cupped the loops in his pants. Pacing in place as his toes tapped against the floor and looked down. But I have to say, I was never really the kind of guy to meditate.”
“How come?” Katana asked, shuffling through his selection of incense. “Do you struggle to sit still?”
“No, more so…” Hyperlaser tried to peek around the swordsman’s broad shoulders. “It just seems to have the opposite effect on me.”
“Perhaps, giving it more thought might aid you?” Katana settled on sandalwood incense, holding the sticks to his chest as he turned to face the little sniper. “It is only fair that I return the favor.”
“... I guess I could give it another shot.”
Katana placed the incense in glass and set it to burn, Hyper’s antennae shifting. The swordsman exhaled, still as stone, while Hyperlaser counted the cracks in the ceiling. Entering the zone, if you will. Though, as believed, the little sniper failed to follow. Maybe he couldn’t sit still. I mean, what was there to focus on? Other than the trepidation brewing, bottling his chest. Making it hard to breathe. It only took a moment, one mistake, one misstep from this room to smell of soft, precious wood to ash and cinder. And Hyper knew it well, massaging his knees to calm his nerves. The longer he lingered in place, the more his helm felt like a prison. Encased, closed in as the room seemed to shrink. Nothing was wrong… yet. He hadn’t lost Katana… yet.
Hyperlaser’s lips clicked, followed by a sigh. “Anxiety. Just- plain ol’ anxiety.”
Katana grew attentive, leaning over. “... This practice makes you anxious?”
“Apparently, heh.” Though, he tried to play it off. Fidgeting with a loose stitch in the floor. “A guard down is usually a dead one.”
“I believe I understand,” Katana replied. “Your heart knows no peace, and thus, fails to place trust within it. Like a sword never drawn — useless within its sheath.”
“Yep. Sounds like me.” The room went silent, both unsure what to say. Or do, for that matter, as that heavenly incense filled the room. Katana twisted a lock of hair pinched between his fingers, then turned once his blue counterpart spoke.
“Well, then… what’s a broken sword to you?” Hyperlaser took out his switchblade. Watching as it spun open, the metal clicking as it slid into place. “Careless? Low-grade? Defective?”
“Perhaps, yes…” He moved the coffee table to close their distance. “But one might forget that every scratch, every scar, or impurity yields an insightful story; a lesson to be learned. Thus,” He reached for the sniper’s hand, turning out his wrist as you would a blade. “Even the broken should be appreciated; recognized for the honor it once brought.” Then he had the gull to rest his head against the Hyper’s shoulder, the blue inphernal breathing shakily. “Your story has yet to end, Hyperlaser. Through smolder and ash, the heart remains red to be molded.”
Hyperlaser’s antennae curved downward, allowing the swordman’s words to simmer and stew his head, then up. “This must be the wisdom your meditation brings.”
Katana blinked, then backed off. Letting out a hardy laugh. “I suppose so. Do you still wish to engage with something else?”
“Well, I could use a little insight about your gear, and where your scars come from…” Hyperlaser suggested, huddling a little closer. “After all, someone like me isn't on the frontline very often.”
Katana studied him carefully, his horns burning a bold blue. “Certainly.”
“What do you wish to know?”
“Maybe start with where you learned to hold your liquor.” he paused, “And why it wasn’t from me.”