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Ookurikara was coming back from field duty when he almost tripped on Sayo Samonji.
“Watch where you’re going,” he grumbled, after briefly looking the tantou over to ensure he wasn’t injured.
“Uhm,” Sayo shuffled uneasily as he looked up at Ookurikara, his soft voice barely making it to Ookurikara’s ears. “I was wondering if...could you help me make something for Kasen?”
“No.” The answer was clear and simple, although Ookurikara’s confusion was written clearly on his face as he walked away.
“Please!” Sayo scurried after him. “I wanted to make him something as thanks for all the treats he gives me.”
“Not my problem.”
“But you know him best! Probably...”
“I don’t.” Ookurikara’s patience was wearing thin. He had nothing against Sayo, he actually preferred his company to a lot of the louder tantous, but he needed to get these vegetables to Mitsutada in the kitchen and then train. Because talking about Kasen just made him want to hit things harder.
Sayo made some unsure sounds, but still jogged along behind him as he went to the kitchen. He had to admire his persistence at least.
“You have a friend,” Mitsutada teased when he saw Ookurikara arrive with Sayo in tow.
Ookurikara said nothing, merely rolling his eyes as he passed the basket of vegetables to Mitsutada.
“I wanted his help...” Sayo explained sheepishly.
“Oh? Help with what?” Mitsutada raised an eyebrow at Ookurikara, as though scolding him for not giving in to Sayo’s request.
“Making something for Kasen...” Sayo replied, “Do you have any ideas?”
“We could make him some mochi treats,” Mitsutada suggested, “He likes those well enough.”
“He prefers sakuramochi,” Ookurikara snapped suddenly. “Don’t thank him with your zunda mochi or whatever.”
“I see.”
Mitsutada smiled in a way that made Ookurikara annoyed, and when he looked at Sayo, the tantou’s eyes were practically sparkling in excitement.
“I knew you knew him best,” his voice still soft, but now filled with pride, “I’ll go get Kousetsu and Souza.”
Training was going pretty horribly, but Ookurikara was annoyed enough that he didn’t care if his form was inconsistent.
He didn’t know Kasen well. He knew nothing about him. Nothing at all. He couldn’t even remember when he learned that Kasen liked sakuramochi. He probably just said it in the middle of a lecture.
He also didn’t know why he knew Kasen wouldn’t like the first box that Sayo had picked out, or why he knew exactly where Kasen would be this time of day.
He must just be observant. Really, really observant.
“Osayo said that you were the reason his gift was so elegant.”
The sudden appearance of Kasen’s voice nearly made Ookurikara drop his bokken. This is not what he needed right now.
“I guess,” he mumbled, hoping that Kasen would go away.
“I was surprised.”
That makes two of us.
The heavy, lingering silence told Ookurikara that Kasen hadn’t left yet. He tried to continue with his training – never turning around, never acknowledging the other’s presence – but he could feel Kasen’s eyes on him.
“What do you want?” he said finally, turning around.
“I don’t know,” Kasen frowned, “Your movements just now certainly weren’t particularly elegant.”
“Tch, they never are.” That annoyed Ookurikara even more somehow.
“No,” Kasen grimaced slightly, “Usually that’s the only area where you’re elegant.”
“Well,” Ookurikara brusquely stabbed his bokken at a dummy, “It’s hard to focus when you’re staring at me like that. Go away.”
“I don’t think I want to,” Kasen sighed, “Unfortunately.”
Ookurikara watched as Kasen grabbed a bokken of his own, then assume his usual stance. It bothered Ookurikara that he could recognise that stance.
He continued to be bothered as he read every movement Kasen made, even the ones he couldn’t parry. Had he really seen every move Kasen had? Had they fought together that much? Annoyance was soon giving way to frustration, and disappointment.
At the very least, Kasen would typically make a good opponent.
“This is boring,” Ookurikara broke from their spar and lowered his bokken, “And a waste of time. I should’ve just kept training on my-”
He only barely managed to block Kasen’s strike on time. He had not read that, not at all. Even if he had been paying more attention, he was certain he wouldn’t have been able to read that.
As he re-engaged with Kasen, it was like he was sparring with a whole new person. Kasen’s movements were fluid as usual, but the subtlety now served to hide his intentions, with each strike being faster, more precise and, if they had been using real blades, much more deadly.
Ookurikara had seen Kasen fight this way before, but only when backed into a corner. It wasn’t how Kasen preferred to fight, he considered it inelegant.
Ookurikara thought it was the most perfect form he had ever seen.
Thoughts drained from Ookurikara’s head as he fought. Everything in him was now dedicated to following Kasen’s movements, learning them, picking them apart. He was building new instincts, until he could feel his own form start to mimic the one he was desperately trying to best. It was familiar, easy for him to move in.
It was his own style, the one he had been too annoyed to slip into earlier.
“That’s better,” Kasen huffed, “That’s how you’re supposed to fight.”
Since when did Kasen and him have similar styles? Had Ookurikara really not noticed it until now?
“Don’t act like you helped me,” Ookurikara spat, “Just keep going.”
It was addicting, fighting like this. Ookurikara was able to see the small differences between them. He could see the bits that were Kasen and the bits that were him. He was fighting a mirror image, but the mirror was ever so slightly warped, giving him a strange and new challenge with every strike.
By the end, Ookurikara wasn’t sure where he ended and where Kasen began. Neither could lift their arms. They simply stood there, far too close, panting, knowing exactly what had just happened, but refusing to name it.
“I told you,” Kasen breathed, “You’re elegant when you fight.”
“No,” Ookurikara tried to break the eye contact, but couldn’t, “You’re just less elegant than you think.”
The stares bored deep into each other’s eyes, each daring the other to be the one to back down.
Not knowing what else to do, Ookurikara swung his bokken up. It was the slow, laboured movement of a man who had been drained to his core, but Kasen still only barely blocked it, stumbling backwards.
“You-” Kasen hissed, “Don’t you know when to give up.”
“No,” Ookurikara shrugged, swinging again. Kasen once again managed to block, but with his footing already uneven, he fell back onto the floor. “I win.”
Ookurikara stood over Kasen for a moment, then walked away. He was done now. He had proven his point and now he could rest.
A sharp thud on his back stopped him in his tracks. Did Kasen throw his sword at him?
Turning around, Ookurikara saw Kasen still on the ground, propping himself up on one elbow and smiling smugly, proud of himself.
“I just killed you.”
Ookurikara’s mouth twitched in annoyance, then, somehow, he laughed.
A few steps and he was above Kasen again, this time kneeling, leaning over him as he supported himself with his sword jabbed against the floor. He lowered his head until his face was practically touching Kasen’s, the uncharacteristic smile still on both their faces.
“You should be like this more often.”