Archive of Our Own

Hizen Tadahiro’s first mission as captain: infiltrate a present-day city.

“Technically,” Chougi had said, frowning down at the mission report, “it isn’t ‘present-day.’ The twenty-first century is quite dated by now. It does resemble our present-day as we know it, but—”

“Alright, alright, I get it,” Hizen groaned. “My point’s that it’ll be way harder to search for the enemy without standin’ out.” It was hard enough staying inconspicuous while on missions taking place in the far more distant past, where samurai and ronin were still common enough that their unit could usually shuffle along without attracting attention. Still, sword warriors unfamiliar with the period’s customs almost always ended up making some kind of social faux-pas, which inevitably snowballed into the whole group scrambling away from a squadron of guards convinced they were a gang of bloodthirsty criminals.

And now, even with Chougi and Horikawa doing most of the talking for them — all that mumbo-jumbo about ‘check-out times’ and ‘housekeeping service’ and ‘free Wi-Fi’ — the innkeeper… hotel-keeper… still looked one wrong word from shouting for those very guards. Several other patrons had all hurried away as soon as Ookurikara so much as breathed their way. Kashagiri’s cat had nearly gotten kidnapped by a human child dead-set on adopting the little kitty. And Izuminokami was unfortunately attracting an entirely different kind of attention, the one that involved women giggling and whispering and fluttering their lashes in his direction.

It didn’t help that there was just so much damn stuff in here. Back in their day, inns were just inns. You were lucky if they served you half-edible grub, luckier still if you could share a room with a stranger because there weren’t any empty ones. And now here there were giant armchairs, fancy fuzzy carpets, humongous candles hanging off the ceiling? Stuffy metal cages that carried you up ten, twenty floors of hundreds of rooms?

Hizen could’ve been sick, and not just because of how this ‘elevator’ moved. No wonder humanity started dying out two hundred years in the future. There was a fine line between living in splendor and plain squandering wealth, and these fools were clearly too far gone.

“Why complain? Don’t you like that we get rooms?” Chougi asked, his voice a murmur. The elevator was cramped with the six of them and a few humans dressed in Western suits, who kept glancing uneasily at Ookurikara and Hizen in turn.

“Wasn’t complainin’.”

“Like that scowl wasn’t a complaint all on its own.”

Hizen wanted to say wasn’t scowlin’ either, but he knew himself better than that, and he supposed this was neither any of his business nor really something to get worked up over. Get in, get the job done, get out. That they got rooms at all was a plus, though it was concerning to think that they’d be in here long enough to need rooms.

Not for the first time, he wondered why the saniwa had entrusted him to be the unit captain for this particular mission. To gain experience, of course, him and Chougi alike — they had only started working in the citadel recently, though Chougi had a few months of seniority over him, something he liked to lord over Hizen’s head at every given opportunity. But really, couldn’t the saniwa have given him a mission more… befitting of who he was? Throw him out onto the battlefield and mow down wave after wave of enemies until he broke, and even then if they repaired him well enough he might still last a little longer. That was all he was good for, wasn’t it? That was what he was best for, wasn’t it?

The elevator halted. Its doors slid open with a grating ding. The men seemed deeply relieved when the six of them stepped outside.

“Our rooms are here,” Horikawa said, gesturing down the right hall: it took Hizen a second to realize he was waiting for Hizen to lead the way, and he did so feeling weirdly embarrassed. “908 and 909. Shall we set our things down before discussing the mission again?”

“Uh. Sure.”

“Are you alright? You look a little out of it.”

“’M fine,” Hizen grunted. He still didn’t understand Horikawa Kunihiro. They’d spoken a few times, but it was mostly just whenever Hizen dropped by the kitchen to grab a snack and found Horikawa there, working on something that smelled so delectable Hizen sometimes puttered around just to taste more of the air. All Hizen really knew about the guy was that he was good at cooking and cleaning and pretty much every other boring chore under the sun, that he and Izuminokami Kanesada were glued to the hip, and that assassinations were his specialty.

It seemed absurd, that those big eyes and bright smile could hide such a bloody blade, but he was a wakizashi, after all. Sometimes when Horikawa was chopping up vegetables Hizen caught a glimpse of an assassin’s blade in the swift, smooth movements. Was this earnest helpfulness of his just a veneer, then, a facade to make everyone let their guard down until he could seize the perfect moment to…

“Wait,” came Chougi’s voice. “How about the beds?”

They came to a stop before rooms 908 and 909. Horikawa looked politely confused. “I thought you knew, Chougi-san. There are only two beds, so some of us will have to—”

“Now hold on a second,” Chougi interrupted. Hizen was honestly impressed Horikawa’s expression betrayed not a hint of irritation — but then again, he and Izuminokami were a Thing. The guy was probably used to getting interrupted all the time. “I don’t want to — Surely we can ask for an extra futon. Such a luxury must be nothing for this lavish establishment.”

Horikawa frowned. “That’ll cost us extra. Aside from our meals, our funds are just enough to cover three days, three nights, two rooms, and two beds. So please—”

“It won’t be a problem so long as this guy doesn’t have to share, right?” Izuminokami cut in, stepping up to loom before Chougi. “If you’re so picky, you can take the floor. Easy.”

Chougi scowled. “Not what I meant. How much could a futon cost? Go ahead and use my share of the money,” he said, which would have sounded magnanimous if he weren’t also glaring daggers up at Izuminokami. Behind him, Ookurikara and Kashagiri exchanged matching uncomfortable glances. “We’re swords, anyway. We don’t need food.”

“Oh, yeah? Swords don’t need futons either, do they? You’ll be just fine with your scabbard, is what you’re sayin’?”

“Why, you—”

“Chougi-san. Kane-san.” Horikawa stepped forward and dropped a hand on their wrists. “Why don’t we all just calm down and back up.”

Hizen’s spine straightened like a prey scenting a predator. For once he felt no real shame at the shudder that ran down his back: he could recognize bloodlust for what it was, and Horikawa was emanating it in waves, the chilling smile on his face as reassuring as a wolf baring its teeth. The temperature dropped ten degrees.

Izuminokami jolted back like he’d been shocked; Chougi looked genuinely petrified for a moment before he, too, wisely stepped away.

“Very good,” Horikawa said. “Kane-san and I can share a bed. What about the rest of you?”

There was silence. Horikawa gave Hizen a meaningful look. Probably this was the part where he, as unit captain, dictated which rooms the rest of them stayed in, but he really didn’t care either way, and he also had zero desire to be the one to tell Chougi what to do, especially when he looked seconds away from punching the wall. Why did this even matter, damn it? Chougi was right about them being swords. They should be on the battlefield, not in a hotel hallway. Hizen didn’t know a damn thing about what to do in a hotel hallway.

…He was sure of one thing, though. If Izuminokami and Chougi shared a room, things would devolve fast.

“I’ll share with them,” Hizen said, jerking a thumb over at Horikawa. Breaking the silence took as much strength as slicing through bone. “Chougi, Ookurikara, Kashagiri. You three decide how to split the beds in your room. Done?”

Ookurikara and Kashagiri gave matching silent nods. Sometimes they really creeped Hizen out. Chougi glared at the floor like he was trying to burn holes into the carpet, but after a charged second and a heavy exhale, he muttered, “Fine.”

Okay. Rocky start, but at least they weren’t killing each other yet. As Horikawa showed them how the doors opened with ‘key cards,’ Hizen gave himself a mental pat on the back. Obviously Horikawa had needed to defuse the situation for him, but next time — because there would definitely be a next time — Hizen knew what he had to do: threaten them with no dinner if they argued again. Foolproof plan. It always worked on him, after all.

Just why he had to bother with such annoying useless, bothersome, unnecessarily complex dynamics pissed him off. But if it was just keeping them together long enough to get this mission over and done with, Hizen supposed he was capable of at least that much.

Hizen was not, in fact, capable of at least that much.

“Man! I know he’s a total ass to your brother, Kunihiro, but I didn’t think he’d be such a priss too!” The blankets rustled. Hizen hadn’t thought rustling blankets could sound miffed until now. “I couldn’t focus on what everyone else was saying at all. It was just yap-yap-yap from him!”

“Now, Kane-san, be nice,” Horikawa chastised. He was still by the sink in the bathroom, washing some stains off Izuminokami’s haori. Hell if Hizen knew why. Like a bit of dirt would affect a sword’s performance at all. “He’s probably used to it from being an inspector. Anyway, he did lay out some good plans…”

A scoff. “Sure, but isn’t that the captain’s job?”

Your captain can hear you, Hizen thought, even as he lay face-down on the bed with the blanket pulled up over his head. Shortly after deciding on the arrangements, they convened in one of the rooms and spoke in length about the mission, but the discussion had largely been led by Chougi, who had recovered admirably quickly from his scolding some five minutes earlier.

“It’s really quite simple,” he’d said, practically as soon as they started speaking. “If the enemy is undercover in this era, then we must search for them and dispatch them quickly and efficiently. I must say, this is much easier than directly engaging them on the battlefield.”

“But how?” Kashagiri had asked. His cat was rolling around on the bed and probably leaving its fur everywhere. Hizen remembered hoping none of the hotel staff had allergies like Goke Kanemitsu did. “This city is big. We have few leads. And this time period is…” He trailed off, nose scrunching in thought.

“Modern,” Ookurikara finished. “Too modern.”

“Right. You know how humans and their technology are,” Izuminokami grumbled. “If something or someone looks the tiniest bit weird, they’ll take a photo on their… smartphones, and then… well, somehow a bunch of other people will see it or somethin’, and then…”

“What Kane-san is saying is that we’ll attract attention by moving around too much,” Horikawa said, turning to Hizen. “What do you think we could do, Hize—”

“In that case, we’ll just have to go undercover ourselves,” Chougi huffed, crossing his arms like he couldn’t believe no one else thought of this. “Simple disguises to blend in. It can’t be that hard. We can split up into pairs, search the city, prioritize areas or buildings that are uninhabited or isolated — according to past mission data, these are prime locations for the History Retrograding Army to set up base in, away from suspecting humans. Are we in agreement?”

Izuminokami had already begun to bristle again. “Seriously? Why do we have to—”

“Sounds good,” Hizen said. He stood up from the low table they’d gathered around and strode out of the room. “We start tomorrow.”

It was a sound plan, the sort of thing he would’ve come up with too if Horikawa had pressed him. Did it make a difference if Chougi was just the one who voiced it aloud? Sure, sometimes his pompous attitude got on Hizen’s nerves too, but as long as he did his job and did it well, what did it matter? They were swords. They looked like people, like humans, but in the end they were still bits of metal fashioned together to fit into these human-like disguises of theirs. In the end these bodies were just another means to an end, another weapon in the belt; getting caught up in human-like relationships and human-like worries would just distract them from the mission.

Also, it had saved him the trouble of leading the discussion himself. That the plan was fine was just a plus.

“Well, Hizen-san agreed to it,” Horikawa replied, drawing him back to the present. The water shut off, replaced with the faint scrape and scratch of scrubbing fabric. “What about Chougi-san’s plan do you disagree with, Kane-san?”

“…Hmph.”

“I thought so.”

“Ugh, something about it just doesn’t sound right to me!” Izuminokami sat up, the blanket flapping audibly. “But arguing with him will just be a waste of time. We’re gonna have to do this on our own, Kunihiro.”

Horikawa sighed. “Splitting up is all well and good, but you should inform the captain first, don’t you think?”

Forget it. Do whatever you want, Hizen thought. Honestly, if they wanted to care about position and status so much, then Horikawa was technically the eldest here: he had arrived at the citadel earliest among all of them in the unit, and so could be considered senior to all of them. Why hadn’t the saniwa entrusted him with being captain for this mission instead? He was nice, he could keep these clowns under control, and he knew how to gut a man seven different ways. So why…?

Soft footsteps. “Anyway,” Horikawa murmured, so low his voice was nearly inaudible, “we can talk tomorrow. Hizen-san is sleeping.”

Izuminokami huffed. “He’ll be fine. He’s slept through us so far.”

No, I haven’t, Hizen thought, and dearly wanted to say.

“Either way, it’s late. Scoot over, Kane-san.” The blankets rustled again as Horikawa presumably squeezed up on the bed with Izuminokami. The beds were clearly only made for one person in mind, but Izuminokami was huge where Horikawa was small, so they’d probably be fine. “Is this okay? Sorry, it’s a bit cramped, huh…”

“S’fine. Wait — the hell, you’re the one without room. Won’t you fall off the edge if you’re that far away?”

“Um… Well… I wouldn’t want Kane-san to feel uncomfortable…”

“Huh? Why would I be uncomfortable?” Izuminokami asked. Hizen thought much the same — they were a Thing, right? They were always with each other, both in the citadel and on the battlefield, alternating between flirting and bickering. Hizen had even internally groaned upon seeing them in the unit lineup: they were two of the strongest swords in the citadel and all, but being with them was like being with a married couple, and now he was stuck sharing the room with them.

Still, sacrifices had to be made for the sake of the mission. Anyway, they hadn’t been too bad so far, though then again it hadn’t been too long. Tomorrow, once they split up to search for the enemy, Hizen would pair up with Chougi, so there wouldn’t even be time for him to get annoyed with these two…

“K-Kane-san?!”

“Hey, now you’re the one raisin’ your voice. Let our captain sleep, yeah? And me, too…”

“Wait, wait — let go — don’t hug me!”

…Why was he getting all worked up over a hug? If they were a Thing, they’d probably done tons of stuff that were way more intense than a hug. Hizen got comfortable and shut his eyes before he heard anything worse.

“…They’re not?”

Chougi didn’t even look at him. “Of course not. I don’t think so, anyway. Before you arrived,” he said, because of course he had to insert that into every conversation with Hizen, “I thought the same as you, until Kasen Kanesada informed me otherwise. Apparently they’ve been dancing around each other like fools for months, thinking the other doesn’t feel the same.” He shook his head. “It’s ridiculous, but I can’t blame them. What do swords know of human relationships?”

Normally Hizen would agree, but right now he was too shell-shocked to register anything beyond informed otherwise. Izuminokami and Horikawa weren’t a Thing? They hadn’t done anything more intense than hugs? They were just platonically sharing the bed, totally out of necessity, no hidden agenda? He thought back to how embarrassed Horikawa had sounded last night, and then how Hizen had stirred awake early that morning to see them cuddling like morons, Horikawa’s head tucked neatly beneath Izuminokami’s chin, and felt a migraine coming on. All that, and they thought the other didn’t feel the same?

Maybe, just maybe, swords were more complicated than humans. There was just no other explanation for this level of stupidity.

Thinking about them now was pointless, though. Hizen followed Chougi down yet another grimy alleyway, glancing up at the buildings beside them: gray and gloomy, the paint peeling in patches, graffiti scrawled over the walls in intervals. Trash littered the ground, heaps of garbage squirming with rats — Chougi kept cursing and side-stepping the things every five minutes. Half an hour ago they had poked around a warehouse on the outskirts of the city, to no avail: it was home to nothing but some massive spiders.

Hizen — and Chougi, for that matter — had underestimated just how big this city was, and how much time it took to search every dark nook and shadowed cranny that may be hiding the History Retrograding Army. Worse still was that they had no leads beyond the enemy probably being in this city — it was the whole reason the saniwa had booked them rooms at the hotel in the first place, but at this rate Hizen was starting to think they’d need way more than just three days at the place. Covering so much ground, even with their unit split into three groups, was just impossible unless they found something soon.

…Also, they were definitely going to get police called on them sooner or later. Already they’d been chased away by barking dogs, cantankerous old men, and housewives wielding their brooms like naginatas — even Chougi’s sweet-talking hadn’t been of much use. People here seemed far more unwelcoming of strangers than Hizen had expected, though he couldn’t blame them — the History Retrograding Army’s very presence tended to be enough to put civilians on edge, even if they had no idea what they were.

“If this is how we are being treated,” Chougi dryly said, after they were given dirty looks from a passing salaryman, “I can only wonder how Kanesada is faring.”

Hizen could only cast an exhausted gaze up to the cloudy heavens. They’d all changed into the clothes they usually wore for internal affairs like fieldwork, and while this meant his hoodie and Chougi’s jersey looked more or less period-appropriate, he could only imagine how Izuminokami’s kimono looked to these people.

They had soggy convenience store onigiri for lunch, and split a bowl of soggy ramen for dinner. By the time they trudged back to their hotel, Hizen was feeling pretty damn soggy himself. They’d found absolutely nothing of use: it felt like all they’d done the whole damn day was walk around in circles and get glared at by the very people they were trying to save. Maybe they should just let this damn time period go to hell, since the History Retrograding Army’s targets clearly didn’t want to be helped… was what he wanted to say, but Chougi would probably get all up in his face about putting personal feelings aside and focusing on the mission. For fuck’s sake, Hizen couldn’t even complain without suffering for it.

“What a waste of time,” Chougi huffed, running a hand through his hair; it had started drizzling halfway back to the hotel, and his normally clean, crisp hair was all frizzy. “I can only hope the others found more than we did.”

“They better have,” Hizen grumbled. They’d split the city up into three chunks for them to search in, and though he and Chougi had only covered about a third of their area, he didn’t have much hope of finding anything else in the rest of the place. The more he thought about it, the more absurd it sounded — not a single hint of the History Retrograding Army’s presence, when the Time Government had specifically reported they were in this very city? When they were out on the battlefield, it was usually impossible to miss those damning flames lighting up their bodies.

Was it just their own inexperience? Hizen was the latest addition to the citadel, and it wasn’t like Chougi had been around for much longer. In that case, the other two groups really might have found something they’d missed — Horikawa especially had keen eyes, and he’d been working as a sword warrior long enough to recognize some clue that the rest of them might not notice.

“It’s not yet midnight,” Chougi said, glancing up at a wall clock. “They might still be searching outside. Shall we head up to the rooms first?”

It felt like the first time Chougi was asking him for his opinion rather than just ‘suggesting’ it while going ahead and doing it anyway. Hizen weighed his options for all of two seconds. “Doesn’t this inn—”

“Hotel.”

“Doesn’t this hotel serve any food? That ramen was like chewing earthworms.”

Chougi shuddered. “Must you use such comparisons? This does have a dinner buffet, but I fear it’s far out of our budget.”

“So?”

“…So we are not stealing food. That would be uncouth.”

“What’s uncouth were those noodles,” Hizen muttered. “And don’t act like it’d be the first time. I’ve heard other swords do it all the time when on missions.” More specifically, Mutsunokami had gone on and on about all the food he’d tried from all the different time periods he’d gone to, and Hizen could only endure talk of juicy buttery prawns and entire roasted pigs for so long before he snapped. Small transgressions like these were fine — in the grand scheme of things, a missing apple or two wasn’t enough to change the course of history, and he knew softies like Mutsunokami only made sure to steal from those who could afford the loss.

Chougi’s look of disdain wavered. Hizen waited another moment before he huffed and spun on his heel. “Very well. But no going overboard, and practice stealth! If we are noticed by the enemy—”

“The staff.”

“…If we are noticed by the staff, it’d be as good as being noticed by the enemy! The buffet should be on the second floor.”

They couldn’t find the stairs, so they had to take the elevator just to go a single floor up. This absurd level of privilege was exactly why Hizen was pretty sure the dinner buffet wouldn’t miss a live cow if he snatched it right under their noses.

The dining hall bustled with activity: other patrons walking around the food tables, servers topping up wine glasses, cooks working behind the counters. The aroma of dozens of dishes wafted out, intoxicating as an incense pot — Hizen was taking three steps forward before Chougi yanked him back by the back of his hoodie like grabbing a cat by the scruff of its neck. “Carefully,” he snapped, glancing around. “If they see us, they’ll make us pay. Literally.”

None of the staff was paying them any attention, and Hizen was pretty sure acting all sneaky and stealthy would just make them look more suspicious. “Let’s just go,” he grunted, shaking Chougi’s grip off and heading into the hall: as long as he acted like he knew the place, he doubted any of these people would so much as notice him, much less stop him. Yet another part of these humans he loathed — the way they so easily dismissed anything and anyone they thought were beneath them — but he was hardly above using it to his advantage when he could.

As expected, no one did more than glance their way. Chougi’s presence probably helped: even when he wasn’t trying, he looked every part the prim and proper nobleman, carrying himself with the sort of grace and dignity Hizen couldn’t muster even if he tried. Probably came with being authentic. That, or he was trying to look better than Yamanbagiri Kunihiro even when he wasn’t here.

They got as far as the giant metal food warmers before pausing. Hizen didn’t actually know what to do in a dinner buffet — did they really just get a plate and pile as much food up on it as they could? He glanced at Chougi, but he had that look on his face that he got whenever he was stumped and desperately trying not to show it, so Hizen supposed he was on his own here. “Think they’ll give us meat if we ask?” he mumbled, eyeing the chef chopping up roast beef behind the counter.

“No! Do nothing that will draw attention!” Chougi hissed, even as he grabbed a plate for himself. “Let me do it. Ahem, good sir. May we have two cuts?”

“Make it three,” Hizen added, ignoring the look Chougi shot him. “I’m starving.”

The chef didn’t even bother looking up, just flipped three cuts of beef onto Chougi’s plate — Hizen snatched two before Chougi could change his mind about having only one, then headed off towards the giant pot of rice. “I thought I told you to leave it to me!” Chougi protested, scrambling to catch up. “And — come on. Don’t eat while you’re still standing!”

“Why? I said, I’m starving.” Hizen ripped another chunk off the beef and gave himself a moment to let the rich flavor soak in his tongue. Now this was one part of being human that he couldn’t complain about. “They’re not payin’ attention. They don’t care. The more you act like you care, though, the more they’re definitely gonna notice.”

“Urgh…” Chougi spooned some fried rice onto his plate, looking simultaneously put-out and excited. Hizen had half a mind to ask who had been the one to say swords didn’t need food just last night. “I suppose you have a point,” he conceded. “It just seems… strange. Normally humans are curious about us just because of how, well, different we look.”

“Speak for yourself,” Hizen muttered, glancing over at Chougi’s platinum-blonde hair.

“And yesterday, those humans at the lobby did notice us quite a bit. Ookurikara and Izuminokami Kanesada especially, no? Yet now…” Chougi looked around them again — Hizen took the chance to take the serving spoon from him and dump a mound of rice onto his own plate. “I thought the staff would stop us right away, but… Hmm. Am I just thinking too much about it?”

Despite himself, Hizen paused, considering; he didn’t really think this mattered, but it’d be remiss of the unit captain to just ignore his subordinate’s instincts. He turned to look at the chef they’d left behind them, but the middle-aged portly man remained a middle-aged portly man. “What do you—”

“Gah!” Chougi shrieked. Hizen nearly dropped his damn plate. “L-L-L—Look! T… That’s…!”

“What? What?” Hizen gripped his plate so hard he felt the ceramic quiver. Chougi was pointing at one of the tables, and Hizen strained to see anything out of the ordinary: tell-tale flames flickering out from beneath a customer’s clothes, the cooking staff wielding ootachi instead of kitchen knives, a tiny spider on the ceiling morphing into one of the History Retrograding Army’s crazy wakizashi. Chougi was trembling from head to toe, and half the time this guy didn’t even like going to repairs even when he had a broken leg, so Hizen could only assume an enemy of unbelievable strength was —

“Those two!” Chougi finally choked out. “They’re eating without us?!”

— was Ookurikara and Kashagiri sitting by a table, demolishing an entire cake.

“What the fuck,” Hizen said.

“It’s dessert,” Chougi said, aghast. “How long have they been here?”

“It’s got strawberries on top,” Hizen observed. As he spoke, Kashagiri plucked one of the strawberries off and fed it to his cat, perched on the edge of the table, a little white bib tied around its body.

Chougi stormed over, fury radiating off of him in waves; Hizen followed, though halfway through he had to stop to fill up a bowl of corn soup for himself, and then again for a small tray of maki rolls, and then one last time for a chef to drop a slice of thick and juicy wagyu beef onto his plate. By the time he got to their table, Chougi’s voice was already twice as loud as usual: “Hours? Hours? It’s past ten! Do you mean to say you returned here before the sun had even fully set?!”

“So?” Ookurikara took a bite of his cake slice. Seeing the stoic, intimidating sword plenty of tantous feared back at the citadel eating strawberry cake like it was completely normal certainly did make Hizen feel like he was having some kind of attack. “We were hungry.”

Hizen highly doubted Ookurikara was the kind of sword to get hungry easily — could tell he was lying, in fact, since he wouldn’t meet their eyes. But Kashagiri was staring down at the table, a faint pink rising to his cheeks, which served as a far better explanation. Chougi must have realized much the same, because he was silent for three long seconds before sighing. “You were, were you?”

“Very.”

“Ugh. Fine, forget it,” Chougi grumbled. Hizen resisted the weird urge to slap his back and tell him he was improving in leaps and bounds when it came to anger management. “It could have been worse. You could have gone to get massages or manicures or something.”

“Massages?” Hizen asked.

“There’s a spa on the top floor. Not that I care!” Chougi snapped, as if that would be at all convincing. “Well, did you two at least find anything of note?”

Ookurikara returned to the cake. “No. And searching any further is unnecessary. There’s nothing to find.”

“Wait, what? W-What do you mean, nothing to find? You don’t know that!” Chougi sputtered, going from somewhat calm to vibrating from sheer anger in half a second. “You couldn’t possibly have combed your assigned area in one day! Less than a day, even!”

“As I said.” Ookurikara’s glare was response enough. “Unnecessary.”

Chougi looked close to blowing a fuse, or spontaneously combusting, or possibly reverting into his sword form because his human body couldn’t handle this much anger in such a tiny vessel. Hizen stepped forward, chewing one of the maki rolls. “Ookurikara. Kashagiri.”

Kashagiri straightened up in attention, looking up at him. Ookurikara only waited.

“…Save me a slice.”

“Captain,” Chougi gritted out, gripping Hizen’s shoulder with bone-crushing strength, “will you please discipline your unit members.”

“Ahem. I meant,” Hizen amended, even as he stared fixedly at the last slice of cake on the table, “what d’you mean, unnecessary? You mean you found something?”

Kashagiri started to shake his head, caught Ookurikara’s eye, and nodded instead.

“Great,” Hizen said, not getting a great feeling from this at all. “What was it?”

Ookurikara tore the leaves off a strawberry and fed it to Kashagiri’s cat. “Can’t tell you.”

Chougi didn’t even bother using words anymore, just made a sound like a kettle going from boiling to evaporating point.

“We’re not certain of it yet,” Kashagiri said, though he kept glancing between Ookurikara and Hizen as if making sure he had the former’s permission. “And speaking aloud would jeopardize the situation. So we can’t tell you.”

“How would tellin’ us something useful be jeopardizing anything?” Hizen bit out. He smelled some sort of conspiracy here, something that told him these two swords hadn’t found anything of the sort and were just making up excuses to return from their investigation early to feast on the dinner buffet — and now that he thought about it, had they also just walked in here and started eating? Had no one stopped them? No one was stopping them now, that was for sure. Shit, if Hizen knew he could’ve just walked in a treasure trove like this and eaten as much shrimp fried rice and crab temaki as he wanted, he might be in Ookurikara’s place right now.

Might being the keyword, of course. Right now all he could think of was how long he and Chougi had spent out on the streets, getting sneered at by the humans they were supposed to be saving, while these two had been kicking their feet up and gorging themselves on — he glanced at the table —

“Wait a second.” Hizen stared at the plates. Four — four large ones. Maybe it was just because they’d gotten new ones instead of just reusing the old ones, but —

He reached over the table and snatched up a damning strand of black hair from where it had been wedged beneath an empty glass. It was longer than his entire arm. It was the same hair he had to yank out of the shower drains whenever he was on bathroom cleaning duty.

“If you can’t tell us about this crucial hint you supposedly found,” Chougi said, voice dangerously soft, “perhaps you can at least tell us where those two are now.”

Once again, Ookurikara and Kashagiri exchanged a look. This, however, held less of a secret scheming air and more like they were mentally agreeing that Those Two weren’t their business. “If you go there,” Kashagiri said, pointing down where the dining hall went further in, “you’ll find the bar.”

“…and then I kicked his face so hard,” Izuminokami said, smacking a fist on the counter, “his head flew off.”

Horikawa topped up both their shot glasses. “Wooow, really?”

“Really! You shoulda been there, K’nihiro, I was so — so — cool.” Izuminokami downed his glass and slammed it down on the counter with a “kaaah!” of appreciation. “Damn, this stuff ain’t half-bad! Eh, barkeep?”

“Glad you’re enjoying it, dear customer,” the bartender said, carrying several empty bottles of sake off the counter before Izuminokami could knock them all over. “Such a fascinating story, as well. I can only hope you were exaggerating about the, ah, head.”

“I wasn’t,” Izuminokami said.

“He’s just joking,” Horikawa said. “And could you get us two more glasses, sir? Our friends are here.”

“Who’s friends with this drunkard?” Chougi snarled, stomping forward and snatching the glass out of Izuminokami’s hand before Horikawa could fill it up again. Izuminokami squawked, fumbled to get it back, and ended up tipping off the bar stool; Horikawa caught him with an arm around his back and practically shoved him back against the counter so the edge dug into his chest. He made a pathetic little wheeze and slumped onto the counter. “Just what do you think you tools are doing here? Drinking away our mission funds instead of making yourselves useful? What’s the meaning of this?!”

“Now, now, Chougi-san.” Horikawa poured sake into the shot glass Chougi was still holding. “Getting all worked up won’t help anyone. Sit down and have a drink first.”

Chougi pitched the glass into a wall.

“Or you can do that,” Horikawa said, as the other customers in the bar screamed and scrambled out of their seats. “That’s alright too.”

“Horikawa.” Hizen’s headache was approaching the point where it felt like his brain was liable to start leaking through his ears. “I thought—” you were better than this, but that sounded like the sort of thing Ichigo Hitofuri would say to one of his misbehaving younger brothers that his headache got worse. “Did you—” at least find anything first, but Horikawa was probably five times better than Ookurikara and Kashagiri combined at lying through his teeth, and the last thing Hizen wanted now was to be played like a fool. “Why didn’t—” you invite us sooner, damn it, I could use a drink after this bullshit too, but then Chougi might actually kill him, for real, and that sounded like even more of a mess to clean than the shattered pieces of glass lying halfway across the bar from them right now.

In the end, he could only muster, “Why?”

Something flickered in Horikawa’s eyes, a shadow of his true nature as a killing sword — but it disappeared in the next second, so quick that Hizen wondered if it had been there at all. “Didn’t it start raining earlier? Searching for anything in such weather would’ve been a waste of time and energy, so we returned here for dinner. If it’s better out now, we can—”

“What’s a waste of time is this — this — blatant negligence of responsibility!” Chougi yelled, his voice climbing pitches Hizen hadn’t known he could even reach. “Absurd! Ridiculous! How are we meant to get anywhere with this mission if only two out of six members of the unit are doing any real work? Does the saniwa know about this?”

Hizen could feel the guy working up to something truly venomous. “Oi—”

“But I suppose I should’ve known better,” Chougi sneered, “than to expect anything from a—”

Steel screeched. Izuminokami had shot up from his seat with lightning speed, almost faster than Hizen could follow — Chougi had barely gotten his sword out in time. “You shut your damn mouth,” Izuminokami growled, the flush of alcohol gone from his face, replaced with raw anger — with his teeth bared he almost did look like a wolf, the starshine of his sword reflecting in hurricane-blue eyes. “Y’think you’re so up there, goin’ around talking shit about everyone? Huh?”

“Right now I’m only speaking based on the situation,” Chougi bit out, arms straining as he pushed up against Izuminokami’s sword — under normal circumstances, Hizen knew neither of them stood a chance against the far stronger Izuminokami when he was serious, and right now the only thing keeping Chougi from losing an arm was probably because Izuminokami was still sluggish from sake. “Explain yourselves, then! What can this be other than drinking on the job? Seems experience isn’t everything when it comes to the rest of the sword warriors on this team!”

“Why, you…!”

The situation was rapidly spiraling out of control, and Hizen had no idea how to defuse it — because he had to, as unit captain, and obviously he couldn’t rely on Horikawa to do it this time, but both Chougi and Izuminokami were unstable enough to do something stupid right now, like reveal more of their identities than they already had in front of a bunch of witnesses — although the bartender was idly wiping a glass clean and paying not a slip of attention to them, possibly he witnessed swordfights between drunken men every Friday or something — and it wasn’t like Hizen knew what to even say or do, damn it, he was just some twice-broken twice-repaired killer’s sword, not a goddamn human, not someone like —

“Kane-san. Chougi-san.”

— Again. He had to rely on this guy, again.

“Kunihiro!” Izuminokami snapped, his furious gaze still fixed on Chougi’s — “Don’t just take this lying down! This bastard—”

“That’s enough. Both of you, step away.”

His voice was lower than Hizen had ever heard it, the ever-present smile he’d grown used to gone from Horikawa’s face. But he didn’t look angry, didn’t even look hurt, just stared at the two of them with dim eyes, thinned lips. Izuminokami cursed but leapt back after another moment — Chougi wobbled but stood admirably straight, chin tilted up in defiance. “I won’t apologize,” he said, before anyone else could speak. “This behavior — it’s a disgrace. That’s all I need to know.”

He sheathed his sword, turned on his heel, and stormed away.

Hizen ended up needing Horikawa’s help with the elevator, which was just the cherry on top.

They were silent the whole way up, even Izuminokami, though it looked like he was barely restraining himself from kicking the elevator doors in. When they returned to their room, the door shut and locked behind them, Hizen flopped onto his bed and buried his face in the pillow. “Go use the bath first,” he told them, voice so muffled he wasn’t sure if they could even hear him.

“Really? Thanks,” Horikawa said, which somehow just made Hizen feel worse. As if getting to use the bath first was any compensation at all for the mess that had just happened. “Come on, Kane-san. I’ll wash your hair.”

Despite everything Hizen couldn’t resist an internal eye-roll. Washing his hair. And they thought it wasn’t mutual.

Izuminokami just grunted. Hizen listened to them shuffle into the bathroom, then to the door swinging closed — only he didn’t hear the click of it fully closing, and when Izuminokami spoke, his voice was as loud as if he had been shouting right in Hizen’s ear. “Damn it! He went too far this time!”

“Kane-san—”

“And you! Why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you tell him to shove his bullshit up his ass? You know you — you’re not — and it doesn’t even matter—”

“Kane-san. Sit down.”

“Now’s not the time for a bath!”

“Yes, it is. You stink of alcohol.”

“…Fuck. Do I?”

Hizen sat up, stared at the bathroom door left ajar, considered getting up to close it properly. Dropped back onto the bed instead. He was too exhausted to stand, much less go take a shower, even though he felt pretty damn gross himself — he was no stranger to dirt and grime, and it hardly even bothered him, but he felt almost guilty about lying on such clean sheets while he could still smell the persistent perfume of rotten food from when he and Chougi had passed through the city’s dank alleyways.

Chougi. Ugh. What the hell was he going to do about that guy?

The bath faucet started up, though not loud enough to drown out Izuminokami’s grumble, which was probably quiet for him but an outdoor voice for everyone else. “Seriously. He’s an ass.” Clothes rustled. Water splashed. “First he said all that shit to your brother’s face back when they met, and like that wasn’t bad enough, he goes after you too? Damn it, I’m getting pissed off all over again. You shoulda let me at him. I would’ve taught him a lesson.”

Horikawa sighed. “Well, from his viewpoint, we probably deserved it.”

“But he didn’t have to say that about you!”

“What’s been said has been said. He was worked up. It probably just… came out.” There was the faint snick of a bottle being uncapped. “Kane-san, face the wall.”

“What, you’re sayin’ insulting others is like a reflex of his?”

“You know, that doesn’t sound too far off. Geez, you’re all tense…”

“Ugh. Can you blame me? Today was such a pain.”

Weren’t you just drinking your heart out half an hour ago? Hizen wondered. Honestly, Chougi’s words had been too much, but his general sentiment was understandable. If he hadn’t been there, Hizen might have been the one getting incensed in his place. Still, throwing personal insults around wasn’t going to make things any better. Hizen had to do… something. He had to talk to Chougi… No, first he should ask Horikawa why the hell they’d stopped investigating to drink their funds away in the bar… No, wait, he should ask Ookurikara or Kashagiri what they were obviously hiding from him…

There was so goddamn much to do as captain. Hizen pressed his face deeper into the pillow and groaned. Why him? Why him! Was their saniwa a total idiot? If they’d just made Horikawa captain or something, Hizen bet they wouldn’t even need to book hotel rooms; Horikawa would’ve rounded up all the enemies within the first hour.

It was strange, the more he thought about it. He knew Horikawa was a veteran at not just stealth but also investigations, tracking down targets, assassinations. And he may go along with Izuminokami half the time, but he certainly wouldn’t have let him so blatantly slack off while on a crucial mission. Maybe he really had found all the History Retrograding Army forces already, taken care of them in one fell swoop, and returned to celebrate with a dinner feast and sake bottles at the hotel?

…Yeah, right. That sounded about as likely as Chougi apologizing.

“Hmm.” Something scraped against the floor tiles; it sounded like the legs of the short plastic stool Hizen had seen in the bathroom earlier this morning. “Sit here. I can massage your shoulders, if you like.”

This time, Hizen deemed it worthy of an actual eye-roll.

“Ha—Ha—Hah?!” Izuminokami yelped, likely loud enough for the rest of the floor to hear. “Well — t-then you take your clothes off too! They’ll get wet!”

What the fuck, Hizen mouthed into his pillow.

“H-Huh?! Me? I, uh, I…” Horikawa’s voice was rapidly approaching the same pitch Chougi had reached. “I-I don’t know… um… oh! Let me just get a bathrobe!”

“W-What? Who cares? Like we don’t get in the hot bath all the time at the citadel.”

“T… That’s different!”

“Literally how? Just do it, Kunihiro. I’ll do it back when you’re done.”

This was ridiculous. In five minutes Hizen would probably start hearing far less conversation and far more inappropriate sounds. He mustered the strength to peel his face off his pillow, stand up, walk over to the bathroom, and yank the door shut.

In the morning, Hizen stirred awake to a strange smell. It took him a second to recognize it as coffee — not the way-too-sweet kind he vaguely remembered the saniwa and a few other swords drank, but a strong aroma that screamed freshly-ground beans. He stretched, wrestled tangled blankets off of himself, and sat up to see Horikawa sitting by the small desk in one corner of the room, a mug of steaming black coffee before him. He was looking out the window; even from here Hizen could see the strange, faraway look in his eyes, like someone watching clouds pass by overhead.

It was way too early: the weak winter sunlight was but a whisper in the dark room. In the other bed, Izuminokami was sound asleep in a bundle of blankets.

Horikawa blinked, turned, looked at Hizen. “Sorry. Did I wake you?” He smiled, but for once it looked like it took him actual effort — and then the events of last night came rushing back to Hizen like a speeding train.

For the first time in the past few days he didn’t think, didn’t worry, didn’t care. He opened his mouth and spoke. “That idiot shouldn’t have said that shit. Sorry.”

Well. He could probably have worded that better.

But Hizen couldn’t bring himself to care. Besides — and this was something everyone might as well get used to, if their damn saniwa was going to keep assigning him as captain on missions — he’d never been one to mince words, or care about status, or worry about internal conflict. They could sort all that out by themselves back at the citadel. For now there was only himself, his sword, and an enemy to cut down.

Horikawa looked briefly startled before he smiled again, this time looking far more sincere. “Thank you. But it’s alright. It…” He paused, chewed on his lower lip. Took a sip of coffee. “I can’t say it doesn’t bother me a little. But it’s something I’ve known since I manifested. It’s not like Chougi-san said anything that wasn’t true.”

Hizen swung his legs off the bed. Might as well start the day earlier than usual. “Doesn’t mean he should’ve said it. ’Sides, fake or real, duplicate or original—” He made a vague, annoyed gesture with his hand. “That stuff doesn’t matter. Only thing that does is if you can cut, and cut well. Obviously you do.”

“Hizen-san…”

“But,” Hizen added, clenching his jaw, “obviously you didn’t, yesterday, unless you’re not tellin’ me something. Whatever it is, I don’t wanna hear it right now.” He turned to see Horikawa looking — remarkably calm, so maybe Hizen’s gut feeling had been wrong after all and these two idiots really had just gotten drunk at the bar. But then again, Horikawa was easily the best liar in the team and probably in the whole citadel: if he really was hiding something, he wasn’t about to make it easy for Hizen to figure out. “I’m gonna just trust you on this one, got it? So… don’t do anything stupid. Or it’ll be me and Chougi you’ll have to deal with.”

Not that they’d actually be much of a challenge to someone like Horikawa. But Hizen had to sound at least a little bit intimidating here.

Clearly he failed, because Horikawa just smiled again, this one wider and weirdly familiar. It took Hizen a second to recognize it as the half-indulgent, half-pitying smile one might give the occasional stray cat that wandered into the citadel’s courtyard. “Hizen-san… you can make a good captain one day, you know?”

“Uhh. Stop that.”

“I’ll let the saniwa know all about this. I’m so proud of you!”

“I said stop that. And I’m the one who has to do the mission report after all this, not you!”

He managed to figure out the elevator on his own and glared at the floor indicator, deep in thought. Whatever it was the other swords had found, keeping up the investigation work today couldn’t hurt, but after yesterday’s events, it might also be a good idea to change the pairs up a little. That way the Hiromitsu swords wouldn’t go off together to stuff their faces again, nor would Horikawa let Izuminokami drink his stupid head off.

In that case, Chougi would probably be fine with Kashagiri: he’d be strict but fair, and Hizen was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to resist letting both Kashagiri and his cat sneak into the dinner buffet again as long as he saw them make an effort throughout the rest of the day. Ookurikara could be with… Horikawa, then. No, wait, that meant Hizen would have to work with Izuminokami, and the thought alone was enough to give him a headache. He doubted Izuminokami liked him all that much either. But partnering with Horikawa sounded even more awkward, especially after Hizen had tried to sound all cool back there…

The elevator stopped on the fourth floor, doors sliding open. A pair of employees walked in, one of them pushing the giant cart Hizen vaguely remembered was used for transporting suitcases and luggage. He looked back up at the floor indicator, waiting impatiently for it to count back down to the second floor — he could almost taste those maki rolls…

Should bring some up for the others, he thought, right before the employee cracked a suitcase over his head.

Hizen woke up feeling like shit, and with the distinct metallic taste of dried blood in his mouth. He stared up at the ceiling and wondered where his life went wrong. Probably from the moment he manifested in this stupid human body, so fragile that it went out like a light from a single blow.

He gave himself another moment to breathe, then strained his senses: no sounds of breathing nearby, no faint smell of smoke and sulfur those History Retrograding Army fires gave off. He wasn’t injured aside from the throbbing headache, nor were his limbs bound, but he couldn’t feel the comforting weight of his sword — his real body, and thus what really mattered — anywhere on his person. Hizen slowly sat up, clutching his head, looking around in the dim, dusty storage room, just in case it had rolled off to the side or something.

And stubbed his toe on a table leg from shock. “What the hell — Chougi!”

Next to him Chougi was sprawled out on the floor, out cold and sporting one hell of a black eye. His hair was mussed and his clothes were littered with small rips and tears, but he at least didn’t look too badly hurt, though his sword was nowhere in sight as well. It wasn’t like him to be caught off-guard like this… but at least it looked like he had put up a fight. Hizen couldn’t say the same for himself.

He nudged Chougi’s arm. “Oi. Wake up.”

Chougi stirred but didn’t wake. Hizen nudged him two more times, which was like giving him two more chances, then backed up and kicked him.

Chougi made a strangled “gwargh!” and jolted up, hands flailing around to cover the spot on his back Hizen had hit. “What — the — hell, the hell d’you want, you filthy monsters, just wait until I—” He rolled over and met Hizen’s unimpressed gaze. “Oh. You’re…”

“Not a monster,” Hizen agreed.

“I was going to say you’re looking rather filthy yourself.”

Hizen brushed off a dust bunny clinging to his shoulder. “Condition?”

Chougi sat up, wincing as he clutched his head. “Fine, more or less. Don’t you know you should ask for a mission report before that, Great Captain?”

“Shit-ass captain if they’re puttin’ the mission before a member. What happened, then?”

Chougi mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like acting like Horikawa before speaking. “I woke up early. I figured, since our other unit members clearly weren’t going to get any work done, I might as well make up for it.”

Hizen had a feeling Chougi also probably hadn’t wanted to deal with the doubtless awkward atmosphere if he got up at the same time as Ookurikara and Kashagiri. “And?”

“…And… I… went down.”

“…Went down where?”

“The… elevator.”

“You took the elevator down to where?”

“That’s not important! Because two of those damn monsters disguised as hotel staff ambushed me when I went in and knocked me out! There!” Chougi’s face was burning with either anger or embarrassment or both.

Hizen crossed his arms. “But where were you going?”

“For the love of… Must I say it aloud?”

“Yeah, I wanna hear all about how the amazing and responsible Yamanbagiri Chougi went down to steal breakfast from the dining hall.”

“You already know?! And you’re the one who just said it aloud!” Chougi sputtered.

“I was right? Well, not a surprise. I was doin’ the same thing.”

“So you’re not much better after all?!”

That was true, but Chougi made riling him up way too easy. “Anyway,” Hizen said, trying to keep a straight face at Chougi’s affronted look, “looks like all our effort and energy yesterday was for nothing in the end. The enemy was right under our noses.” It made an annoying amount of sense, in retrospect. No wonder the hotel staff hadn’t stopped them from gorging their faces in the dinner buffet, or having a drinking party in the bar: they’d wanted that false sense of security, wanted to swoop in and attack once they’d let their guard down.

Also, now that he thought about it, the saniwa told them there were no further leads on the enemy’s location… but they’d instructed them to book rooms at this hotel, specifically. Still, couldn’t the saniwa have been less subtle about it? Was Hizen the idiot here or what?

Chougi clenched his fists, bloody scratches standing out on his whitening knuckles. “Damn it. Damn it! Why didn’t I notice? I should’ve… Damn it!”

“Oi, cool it. It’s not your fault. More importantly, the enemy’s probably got our real bodies right now,” Hizen said, turning in a slow circle to assess their surroundings again: it was a small room, cramped and cluttered with so many cardboard boxes, mismatched furniture, and cleaning supplies that Hizen honestly hoped the History Retrograding Army actually did have their swords. He really didn’t want to dig through all this garbage. “They’re dumb as fuck to put us in here together, though. Let’s fight our way out, call for backup, and get this over with.”

Chougi gave him a baleful look from where he was still sitting on the floor. “Of course someone who kicked me awake would suggest such a barbaric idea.”

“Oh, sorry, what do you suggest? Asking nicely for them to give our swords back?”

“Obviously not, but some stealth and caution must be employed here! If they outnumber us — and they probably do, if every single employee here is an enemy — then we’ll be smashed flat before we can do anything!”

Hizen looked over at the lone door across the room. “Sure. Be my guest. Let’s see you stealth and caution your way out of the guards probably standin’ right outside that door. I’ll wait.”

Chougi pinched the bridge of his nose. “You are making my headache worse. Think for a second, Hizen,” he said; Hizen braced himself for another lecture on how a proper captain would do this and that and blah-blah-blah, but instead Chougi said, voice subdued, “It’s humiliating knowing how easily they had caught us off-guard, and we were the ones actively searching for the enemy. What about those layabouts who barely even tried?”

Hizen scowled. “They…” They’re better than that, he wanted to say, but couldn’t quite get the words out. Before this, after all, he would have scoffed at the thought of the History Retrograding Army ambushing him in a hotel elevator of all places, and yet it had happened. If Ookurikara and Kashagiri were still asleep, it would’ve been easy for staff to open their room door and take them out just like that… and while Horikawa was awake, he might have opened the door expecting room service only to get brained by a mop or something. Hizen doubted a half-asleep, probably-hungover Izuminokami would have been of much help either.

What if they couldn’t call for backup because there wasn’t anyone to back them up? What if the rest of their unit was out cold right now, locked up in the other storage rooms, maybe even injured far worse than some bumps and bruises?

“…Yeah, alright. Damn it,” Hizen echoed.

If only someone else were captain. If only it hadn’t been him.

It was Chougi’s turn to stand up, dusting his wrinkled pants off, and cross his arms. “That wasn’t me saying we should give up, obviously, so don’t look so defeated. If nothing else, you have a responsibility to report back to the saniwa.”

“Ugh. Don’t make it sound like I’ll be returning alone.” Hizen glanced over at the door with newfound trepidation. The odds were against them, in terms of both numbers and weapons, not to mention he didn’t have the slightest idea where they were in this giant maze of a hotel… but they had to try, if nothing else. He owed that much to their teammates. Shit, he was acting like they were already dead. “Fine, go ahead and be as stealthy an’ cautious as you like. Better hope they haven’t heard all your screechin’ by now, though.”

Chougi brushed past him. “I was not screeching.” He paused before the door, glaring at it as if that would be enough to let him see straight through the wood, then crouched down to press his ear against the thin gap between door and floor. “There… erm… is someone.”

“Wow,” Hizen said. “Genius.”

“Shh! They… They’re standing outside? Not moving?” He furrowed his brow. “No, wait… It seems there are two of them? I think?”

“You think?”

Chougi scowled up at Hizen. “I’m doing my best here!”

Hizen had heard the tantous giggling about how most of the tachis and ootachis were hopeless when it came to scouting out the enemy, and how uchigatanas weren’t that much better, but he hadn’t realized how serious they were. “Move it,” he grunted, heading over to the door to listen: he wasn’t all that great himself, knew that Nikkari Aoe and Hanjin and (of course) Horikawa were much better at this, but he knew a thing or two himself.

Chougi was right about there being two people, at least, and that they were standing still. Their breathing rates were slow but measured, almost restrained, as if they’d overheard Chougi and were doing their best to employ stealth too. One sounded significantly louder than the other, and further from the ground — a larger sword, then. An uchigatana or tachi paired with one of those wakizashi spiders.

Hizen drew back. “We should be fine.” Two enemies was doable: fend off the other, gang up on one, and beat it down with their bare fists. Not much of a plan, and Hizen dreaded getting anywhere close to those fires of theirs again — he’d made exactly that mistake on a previous mission and had spent seven torturous hours in the repair room afterwards getting treated for frostbite — but they didn’t exactly have a choice. “Count of three, I’ll bust the door down, kill everyone.”

“Your combat acumen has me green with envy,” Chougi muttered, even as he rose from his crouch and pushed stray strands of hair out of his face. “Fine. Don’t die.”

“That’s my line.” Hizen glared at the door — damn, he got why Chougi did this now — drove his heel into the ground and swung his leg up for a kick —

The door broke open from the outside. Hizen’s foot slid out beneath him and he went down flailing, which was the only reason his head remained connected to his body; a sword swung through the air right above him, slicing off the tips of a select few unfortunate strands of his hair.

Chougi, for his part, didn’t hesitate. He vaulted over Hizen while he was trying to remember how to stand and threw what would have been a solid right hook at their assailant’s face, if someone much taller hadn’t caught him by the elbow first and lifted him halfway up the air. “It’s… you?”

“Argh! Unhand me, you foul fie—”

Ookurikara dropped him. Chougi landed on top of Hizen. Hizen gave up on trying to stand.

“—guh. Wait, what?!” Chougi yelped, pushing himself up to gawk up at Ookurikara, flexing his wrist, and at Kashagiri, sword still raised and looking similarly confused, next to him. “You two? You… You’re alive!”

Ookurikara looked offended. “Of course we are.”

“I wouldn’t be alive right now if that hit had landed, damn it,” Hizen groaned, voice muffled against the floor — one of Chougi’s feet was right on top of his head, the heel of his shoe digging into Hizen’s poor scalp. He craned his neck to see Kashagiri sheathing his sword and giving him an apologetic look. “What are you two doing here? Aren’t you…” supposed to be either held hostage too, or dead…? he nearly asked, before realizing how stupid that sounded.

“Why else?” Ookurikara flicked black blood off his sword. “Taking down the enemy.”

Hizen opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it. Closed it again, as his brain started making several connections at warp speed.

“What — But — How — Why—” Chougi looked close to having an aneurysm. “Hold on one second! Did… Did you know?”

Kashagiri glanced between all three of them. His cat, tucked securely in the folds of his jacket, peered out at them. “Wait. I thought they knew,” he whispered — uselessly, considering Chougi and Hizen were right in front of them and could still hear him loud and clear. “Weren’t they just acting?”

“Sometimes, for the sake of the mission,” Ookurikara said, voice completely devoid of guilt, “you have to take advantage of your teammates’s stupidity.”

Chougi shot up from Hizen’s back like a furious little rocket. “In what way is that teamwork?!”

“Did I ever say that?”

“This is impossible. Hizen!” Chougi barked. “Come on, you’re the captain. Ask for a mission report, since these two clearly know so much about the situation.”

Hizen groaned as he finally pushed himself up from the floor. He hadn’t even gotten into any real fights since the start of this stupid mission, just gotten beaten up by friend and foe alike, but he was definitely going to have to go to repairs after this. “You heard the guy. Explain.”

After a moment’s pause, Ookurikara explained, “We cleared each floor as we went down. This is the last.”

“Oh, did you? How nice. Not!” Hizen snapped. “You didn’t explain shit! What do you mean, cleared each floor? Where are we, the damn underground tunnels beneath Osaka Castle?”

Kashagiri looked around them. “Now that you mention it, the furniture looks valuable. We could bring the best one back and sell it for koban.”

“Not the point. Fine, I’ll do this myself,” Hizen grumbled. “Somehow you found out the enemy was the hotel staff all along. You noticed Chougi and I missing and went to search for us. Thanks for that, by the way.” At least, he could only hope they’d actually noticed and grew concerned, and didn’t just go on a killing spree because they felt like it. Sometimes he truly had no idea what went on in these two’s heads. “What I don’t get is how you knew, and why you didn’t tell us. And where are Izuminokami and Horikawa? Don’t tell me they’re day-drinking.”

“Top floors,” Ookurikara said. It took Hizen a second to realize which question he was even answering. “We split the building between us.”

“Don’t talk about it like you’re splitting a bowl of ramen,” Chougi sighed.

“It seems the real leader of these Army forces is down here, though,” Kashagiri added, turning to look down the hallway. Hizen followed his gaze: it was a long, dim corridor, with a few other doors at the sides and a set of double doors at the very end. “We scouted around, and that looks the most likely location. Are you two ready?”

Hizen frowned. “We don’t have our swords. Might be with the boss.”

“Oh. That is a problem.” Kashagiri looked deep in thought for a second, then looked up at Ookurikara. “What do you think?”

Ookurikara crossed his arms. “Don’t need their help.”

“I might really punch you this time,” Chougi muttered.

Hizen was starting to feel the same. He wasn’t as difficult as Ookurikara, was he? He didn’t give his unit captain headaches as bad as the one he had right now, did he? Maybe this was what the saniwa had wanted to show him. If — When they got back to the citadel, he was going to take a long hard look at himself in the mirror and reflect on his behavior, he swore it. “We’ll stay behind you,” he finally managed. “Back you up best as we can. Alright?”

Ookurikara was already heading down the hall towards the double doors, Kashagiri on his heels. “Don’t slow me down.”

“When we get out of here,” Chougi growled, storming after them, “I really am going to punch him. Just once. You’ll allow that, won’t you, Captain?”

“No. When we get out of here, you’re joining me at the mirror.”

The four of them paused before the double doors. It did feel more menacing than the other doors they had passed — probably it was just the darkness, because the flickering lightbulb overhead couldn’t quite reach all the way here, but even with the doors closed Hizen could feel a chill creeping out from the thin gaps, that biting coldness unique to the History Retrograding Army’s fires. His hand was already at his side, fumbling uselessly at where his sword handle would be if it were sheathed there, and he let his arm drop with a frustrated huff.

He wasn’t about to delude himself into believing he could actually take a leader among the History Retrograding Army barehanded. Going in would be certain death, with how he could neither attack nor defend.

But he’d already done absolute jack shit for this mission, and he was the captain. At this point, he’d feel better knowing he at least got injured. “Ready?” he asked, stepping back as Ookurikara and Kashagiri made room for him. Real considerate to let him kick the door down this time, after they’d taken that away from him earlier. “No idea how many there are of ’em, so—” He shrugged. “Don’t die.”

“That’s my line,” Chougi mumbled.

Inhale, exhale. Once more, Hizen balanced on one foot and swung his leg out into a kick at the doorknobs. He had about half a second to give himself a pat on the back for a pretty damn good kick, considering he was still sore all over from the past few hours, before the doors flew wide open and his life flashed before his eyes as he lost his balance and made a spectacular —

Catch. Hizen clung to the doorframe for dear life, steadied himself on both feet, and heaved a sigh of relief. He was not falling on his face a second time within ten minutes.

Wait. More importantly. “What the hell! Was the door open?” Hizen hissed, leaping away from the doorframe just in case that was a trap and now he was stuck with frostbitten fingers again. Thankfully they were all nice and warm, but beyond the double doors, swinging dizzily back and forth, there was nothing but darkness: no telltale glowing fires, no skeletal monsters charging out at them, no gleam of sword blades — no, wait, there was one now, a dusty glimmer under a slice of sunlight. Hizen raised his arms and braced himself —

“Oh, Hizen-san! And everyone else! You’re finally here.”

“…What?”

Horikawa sheathed his sword, smiling brightly. He didn’t have so much as a speck of blood on him. “Thank goodness you’re alright. We were worried you were tortured for information or something, but it looks like we arrived just in time. Kane-san, have you found them yet?”

“Mmgh, I think they’re… Yeah, here.” On the other side of the room — which was much wider and emptier than the storage room Hizen and Chougi had been stuffed in — Izuminokami wriggled his way out from under a table and held up a pair of familiar swords. “Oi, you two, c’mere. You can sing my praises all you like anytime now.”

Chougi looked like he was seriously considering jumping out a window, so Hizen took pity on him just this once and jogged over to grab the two swords from a smug Izuminokami. “Uh. Thanks,” he managed, too baffled to even be embarrassed. “What… What’s going on? Aren’t you — Those two said you were upstairs or somethin’.” He glanced back at Ookurikara and Kashagiri, but they looked similarly confused — or at least Kashagiri did, and even then it was just a slight furrow of his brows. Ookurikara’s face was probably only capable of changing by millimeters.

Izuminokami scoffed. “Yeah, we were. Those losers didn’t stand a chance against us. We finished up early and thought we’d head down to see if we could wrap it up faster.”

“So…” Chougi choked out, taking a hesitant step forward, “you… also knew.”

“Hah?”

“You also knew. About the hotel staff being the enemy.”

“Oh. Yeah,” Izuminokami said. “Duh,” he added, like that hadn’t been enough.

Horikawa placed a reassuring hand on Chougi’s shoulder. No, wait — there was nothing reassuring about that dark smile on his face, and Hizen took an involuntary step back, like an already-wounded animal scenting yet more predators on the wind. “Don’t worry about it, Chougi-san,” he said, so sweetly it hurt. “You can just leave this kind of grunt work to a fake, right?”

Five impossibly long seconds of silence crawled by. Chougi’s face went a concerning shade of red before he let his head drop into one hand with a groan. “I’ve… been bested. I can admit that much.”

Horikawa’s smile lightened a smidge, from threatening to pitying. “As long as you understand. Well, Hizen-san?” he prompted, startling Hizen out of his encroaching fight-or-flight mindset. “Aren’t you going to ask for a mission report?”

“…First, your condition.”

Horikawa looked inordinately pleased. “See, I told you you’d make a great captain!”

“And I told you to stop that.”

“Kane-san and I are both fine. Light injuries at most. As for the enemy here, we’ve completely wiped them out, including the leader. It seems they were slowly building their forces here, taking advantage of other sword warriors that have come to investigate their presence and catching them off-guard, same as I presume they did to you.” Horikawa didn’t even sound conciliatory about it, his tone matter-of-fact, and Hizen tried to appreciate that because it was better than feeling humiliated all over again about getting captured by such basic tactics. “But it should be all clear now. We can do a final pass tomorrow before we leave.”

Hizen ran a hand through his hair, trying to digest everything Horikawa just said. “You sure we’re not fucking up history by killing everyone in this hotel?”

“It wasn’t everyone,” Horikawa corrected. “The staff in the spa are human.”

“Fine. Killing everyone except like, five people in this hotel?”

Izuminokami waved the question away. “All hotels close down in the future anyway. We’re just speedin’ things up a little for this one. Anyway, who cares? Let’s get goin’ already! Now we can really have the buffet to ourselves!”

“What? Wait!” Chougi yelped, stumbling back as Izuminokami strode past him and out the doors. “N-Now that the mission’s over, we should report back to the citadel right away! Surely the saniwa will have new directives for us once we—”

Ookurikara turned and followed Izuminokami down the hall. Kashagiri glanced between them, then trotted along as well.

“—we — we — argh!” Chougi sank to his knees on the floor, face in his hands. “I get it, damn it… I was wasting my time searching around outside and yelling at you lot when this whole time you were the ones who actually knew one whit about the situation… but why! Why didn’t you say anything?” he asked, glaring out at Horikawa from between his fingers. “If you’d told us, I… I wouldn’t have…”

“Same here,” Hizen grunted, stepping forward. He understood Ookurikara’s reason, if only because Ookurikara would probably sooner die than talk about anything to anyone, but he expected better from someone like Horikawa. Maybe he had a legitimate reason for keeping this from them. “Would’ve been real nice to know you weren’t all just fuckin’ around for fun.”

“Oh, you two…” Horikawa smiled. “Don’t you know? Sometimes, for the sake of the mission, you have to make use of your teammates’s ignorance.”

Or not. Hizen felt a vein throb in his forehead. “Oi, oi, oi, don’t swap out stupidity for ignorance and think that makes you any better than Ookurikara! Did you two rehearse this shit or what?!”

“But really, you weren’t wasting your time,” Horikawa said, glancing at Chougi before looking back at Hizen. “This was the enemy’s, what’s the term… modus operandi, after all. It’s a nice hotel in a time period we sword warriors don’t usually visit, and some of us are bound to get distracted and carried away. So we played that part, while you two tried to take the mission seriously, and that naturally led to rifts between the group that the enemy could take advantage of. See?” He smiled. “It’s really quite simple.”

“It’s really quite evil, you mean,” Chougi said, sounding unsettled.

“Anyway, it wouldn’t have been nearly as easy to defeat the enemy if you two hadn’t served as bait,” Horikawa said, so happily that Hizen could almost pretend he hadn’t just called them bait. “A successful mission all in all. Shall we head back up now? Hizen-san, Chougi-san, you didn’t get to really enjoy the hotel buffet, did you?”

Chougi slowly picked himself back up to his feet. “Shouldn’t we return to the citadel right away?” he mumbled, sounding less imperative and more resigned.

“Aruji-san booked us for three nights,” Horikawa said, “and it’s only been two. There’s no harm in returning as scheduled.”

“…You and that clown Izuminokami are just going to drain the bar’s stash dry, aren’t you?”

Hizen jabbed his elbow in Chougi’s side. “And you can go get a massage and manicure up at the spa. They’ve even got human staff left, right? Aren’t ya happy?”

“I — I — I—” Chougi went beet red. “W… Well… I suppose… I could take a look — but purely for the purposes of the mission! There’s no guarantee the enemy forces have been completely wiped out, after all!”

He stalked down the corridor, though by now Hizen had learned to tell when the guy had a spring in his storm.

He waited until Chougi disappeared down a turn in the hall, then a little longer as Horikawa kept an easy, friendly pace beside him, and then a little longer still until they were right in front of the elevator, waiting for it to return to their floor. Finally Hizen muttered, “Good work.”

Horikawa looked delighted. “Thank you!”

“Ugh. Whatever. I just — you might as well have been captain,” he grumbled, staring at the floor indicator as if that would make the elevator come faster. Naturally, it took its sweet time trundling down from the twenty-first floor. “I don’t get why the saniwa put me in charge. I didn’t do shit ’cept make a fool outta myself and get beat up by the enemy. If it were you—” Hizen paused, searching for words. Was he whining right now? He wasn’t a whiner, damn it. This was just stating facts, so why did it make his chest feel so tight? “It… It would’ve gone better,” he finished, lamely. “I can’t be like you.”

Horikawa was quiet for a second; when Hizen mustered the courage to turn and face him, he had a strange, small smile on his face, soft under the dim light, neither pitying nor condescending but something Hizen couldn’t recognize, couldn’t remember ever having seen. “You don’t have to be like me to be a good captain, Hizen-san,” he said, voice low. “If anything, we’re already quite alike.”

“Are you blind?” Hizen wondered.

“Heh. I just mean that we’re both wakizashi, and that we aren’t strangers to killing and assassinations. A first-rate killer’s sword, right?”

Hizen sighed and looked away. “Ain’t that about as far as our similarities go? You’re all… nice, and… bubbly and shit. I can’t be that. I don’t wanna be that,” he admitted. It reminded him of Mutsunokami’s nice and bubbly personality, which was something he could already just barely stand. Besides, he was a first-rate killer’s sword, wasn’t he? He had no place to be acting all kind and friendly and human, when his imperfect blade was stained with the blood of all the thousands of souls he’d slain.

“Well, thank you, I think. But you don’t have to be that,” Horikawa said. “The saniwa assigned you as captain because they believed in you, not someone you think you should be.”

“…Hmph.”

“Hmph all you like,” Horikawa said; Hizen could hear the little smile on his face. “I think you’re too caught up in your past to appreciate the present. We have these bodies and all these other people around us now, don’t we? You don’t have to only be a killer’s sword from now on, Hizen-san.”

The elevator dinged. Horikawa held the doors open for him as Hizen stepped in, though he really didn’t have to.

Hizen ate. And ate. And ate some more until he felt fit to burst, and then a little more. There was no staff to stop him from cleaning out the entire pan of rice, after all, and he was pretty sure he deserved this after all the bullshit of the past — had it even been more than a day? It felt like he’d been in this hellhole of a mission for weeks. The other hotel patrons, who had long since stopped trying to give him scolding looks every time he got up from his table, should be grateful he’d only finished the fried rice and left them the white rice for dinner tonight.

Now that the weight of the mission was off his mind, Hizen felt pretty dumb for not realizing how big the hotel was, and how easy it would have been for the History Retrograding Army to hole up in here — the humans rarely, if ever, paid attention to staff, after all. Not that he could talk, all things considered.

He wandered around the building, telling himself this was purely so he could keep an eye out for any more enemies: Ookurikara was in the fancy dojo (“fitness center,” the directory later told him), lifting weights that looked heavier than the full-grown human men staring fearfully at him. Kashagiri was on the floor dedicated to other restaurants, sharing a yakitori stick with his cat. Izuminokami was doing laps in the humongous swimming pool, while nearby Horikawa was stretched out on a beach chair like a content cat, honest-to-god reading a book, and looking blissfully ignorant of all the women tittering over the both of them.

And Chougi, of course, was up in the spa.

“Oh, there he is,” he said, when Hizen took a tentative step inside. “Ladies, if anyone needs a manicure, it is him. Desperately. I fear his nails are all but hopeless by now, but surely they’re not beyond saving.”

Hizen rolled his eyes and waved off one of the employees who came over to him. “What kinda nonsense are you spouting now? Did getting a massage just make you worse?” The atmosphere up here was completely different, all posh plush armchairs, dim magenta lighting, and some kind of soothing music playing overhead. Yeah, if he were a History Retrograding Army monster, he wouldn’t wanna be here either.

Chougi leaned back in his very own posh plush armchair. “On the contrary. I’ve had time to reflect on my actions, and…”

Hizen waited.

“…I still believe I was in the right.”

“What kind of reflecting did you do, exactly?”

“They couldn’t have expected all of us to pick up on this hotel being some kind of gateway to hell,” Chougi huffed, holding out one of his hands for a waiting employee to do… something… to his fingers. Hizen watched with no small amount of trepidation as she dipped a delicate brush in a delicate bottle and drew delicate strokes on Chougi’s delicate nails. Didn’t he know whatever manicure he got here was just going to disappear once he went in for repairs? “And you don’t hold important secrets from your teammates. That will do the very opposite of encouraging cooperation.”

“Gotta say, your personality doesn’t encourage cooperation all that much either,” Hizen remarked.

“I don’t want to hear that from you! But. Well.” Chougi cleared his throat and turned his head just so, hiding whatever face he was making from Hizen. “I can at least admit that… I went too far at times. That’s all.”

The tips of his ears were red. Hizen gave him another second, then sighed. “Don’t think I’m the guy you should be sayin’ all that to.”

Clearly the hotel higher-ups had gotten complaints about the lack of staff, because throughout the rest of the day Hizen kept catching sight of important-looking men in important-looking suits scurrying around, bowing and apologizing to patrons then turning around and conversing in hushed whispers with their colleagues. By evening a bunch of frazzled-looking humans in ill-fitting employee uniforms were stumbling around the place, cleaning up trash and carrying customers’s luggage up the building. Hizen didn’t care — was pleasantly surprised about it, in fact, because the food trays he’d emptied were refilled in time for the dinner buffet — but he was still enough of a sword warrior to wonder if this would interfere with their work.

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that,” Horikawa said, sticking a fork in a crab claw to work the meat out. “Right now the humans care more about keeping up appearances and keeping their customers to care about what happened to their missing employees. Maybe in a few days they’ll have to start contacting families, but by then we’ll be long gone.” He dropped a mound of crab meat on Izuminokami’s plate, then distributed the remaining four pieces among the rest of them. “A bit sad that they don’t care about so many people going missing all at once, and only what their disappearance means for the business.”

Hizen stared down at the piece of crab on his plate. “At least try to look like you care.”

“You don’t like crab, Hizen-san?”

Hizen ate his singular piece like the rest of the swords, even Chougi, did around the table. They knew their place.

Afterwards Ookurikara and Kashagiri went up to turn in early, though judging by the bowls of maki rolls and sushi cuts they were carrying Hizen had a feeling they were going to have their own little buffet in their room. Chougi headed down to the pool, looking for all intents and purposes like a man reborn after his spa session. And Izuminokami, of course —

“Come on, Kunihiro!” He threw his hands up in the air as he headed down the dining hall. “Let’s drink, drink! I didn’t get to drink for real last night!”

“Wasn’t he smashed?” Hizen asked.

“Of course not. He poured it down the side,” Horikawa said, sounding proud. “Even Kane-san knows not to get drunk on the job… or, well… He might have taken a sip. Just enough to make our acting look more authentic.”

“He was smashed,” Hizen concluded. “I have no idea what you see in that guy.”

“W—” Horikawa’s voice climbed a ladder of octaves. “H-H-Hahaha! What? W-What do you mean? I-I don’t — oh, right, y-you mean why I’m his partner! Well, of course, that’s only a given, because we were both swords of—”

“You know damn well what I meant,” Hizen said.

He expected Horikawa to put up more of a fight, but the poor guy folded just like that. “K-Kane-san… doesn’t see me that way, so don’t… talk about such things, Hizen-san, or he’ll get the wrong idea and… and…”

Horikawa looked genuinely close to tearing up. It was such a ridiculous contrast from his usual calm, collected self that Hizen felt his instincts rearing up in a mix of surprise and fear — if an angry Horikawa was dangerous, it followed that a miserable Horikawa was even worse. “Uh. Uhh. S… Stop that,” Hizen said, because he was a natural at comforting people.

Horikawa sniffed and looked away. “I’m sorry. That was, um… Anyway, really, it’s not… I don’t… I won’t ever act on it, because it doesn’t matter, because it’d only get in the way of our duties as sword warriors, and because Kane-san would never…” He sniffed again. “Um, maybe I’m a little drunk myself…”

“Yeah, lay off the wine next time,” Hizen advised, though he distinctly remembered Horikawa had gone through an entire bottle all by himself during the dinner and only now did he seem remotely intoxicated… Wait, now that he thought about it, maybe that could be an idea. “Look. Um. I don’t think Izuminokami’s going to, uh, hate you, or whatever. And maybe alcohol’s just what you need, actually.”

Horikawa blinked, momentarily more confused than pitiful. “What?”

“Ugh, you know. Spill it all now, then blame the sake in the morning. Classic.” Hizen snagged one last wagyu cube off a nearby bowl and popped it in his mouth. “I’ll go up ahead. You got the other key card, right?”

“Oh, yes… Wait, Hizen-san!” Horikawa called. “What’s this all about? Don’t tell me you’ve had experience with this sort of thing too?”

Hizen grimaced. “Hell no.”

“Then… why?”

“Why? Can’t I just do it ’cause I want to?”

Horikawa stared at him. “You don’t really look like someone who just wants to dole out relationship advice, if you ask me,” he said, so frankly it was almost as impressive as it was plain disrespectful.

Hizen just rolled his eyes. “Why bother interrogatin’ me like this? Just go already. Your partner’s waiting.”

He turned to leave, for sure this time, because he didn’t want to look into those bright blue eyes any longer, didn’t want to feel like Horikawa could see the truth clear as day buried somewhere between his ribs: that he’d just wanted to pay him back for his advice on being not just unit captain but also being a sword warrior, being Hizen Tadahiro, being someone he could never be when he was just the hunk of metal his previous master used to slaughter dozens of men. He’d mulled Horikawa’s words over all day in his head, and though he still couldn’t quite properly grasp it, wasn’t entirely sure if he even understood them, he knew — one way or another — Horikawa had given him something it felt like he’d been missing ever since he first manifested.

Something. He wasn’t sure what it was yet, either. But he’d figure that out for himself later on, and that much was enough.

“Thank you,” Horikawa murmured, just barely audible from behind. Hizen chewed his beef, savoring the flavor, and reluctantly decided it wasn’t so bad being in a unit with these clowns.

He rescinded that statement at about two in the morning, when Horikawa and Izuminokami came stumbling through the room door. Hizen stirred, too tired to even open his eyes, much less tell them to quiet down — only he didn’t get much of a chance to do either anyway, because as soon as he heard them crash on the bed next to him he started hearing far worse sounds. Louder sounds. Wetter sounds.

“Mm — ah — Kane-san! S-Slow down, hold on—”

“K’nihirooo…” Clothes rustled. Something fell in a heap onto the floor. “Don’t wanna go slow… Been waiting sooo long…”

Hizen’s eyes flew open.

“Kane-san…” More smacking and sucking and generally disgusting noises. “Yes, it’s been so long, hasn’t it? But we have so much time now…”

“Ah? Do we? We’re leavin’ tomorrow, and then we won’t get this huge bed all to ourselves again, won’t we?”

“I’d say our futons back home are a lot bigger, honestly—” Something ripped. “W-Wah! Wait! My shirt!”

“It’ll be fine, fiiine. C’mon. Don’t’cha wanna get a piece of my—”

Hizen sat up. He kept his eyes fixed firmly ahead as he gathered his blanket up around him, strode down the room, yanked the door open, and slammed it shut with an echoing bang.