Detour

The Blade Lineage and the Kurokumo Clan have fought for years over territorial disputes. Usually, the sight of each other is a one-way ticket to a harsh duel.

In this case, it's different. In the young night, a Salsu makes a detour on the way home after barely escaping a battle. Always prepared despite being battered, he carries his sword and holds onto it with great care.

Trouble already brews when Sinclair hears that familiar voice from behind him. Sinclair closes his eyes for a moment and sighs.

There was one duty he had promised his mentor he would fulfill, and until now he hasn't completed it.

On the other hand, it meant having to deal with Basilio almost every night.

Sinclair opens his eyes and turns around to greet the other. He looks rather unsightly, and hated to admit such.

One glance showed that he had his own blade sheathed. "How bold." Sinclair thinks to himself, but so as to show equality, he puts his sword aside too.

Sinclair knew better than to question it. Reluctant, he finds a space and sits down. If he was being frank, he didn't even realize he was bleeding all over. Basilio somehow takes out some bandages out of his pocket - Likely some kind of technology Sinclair is too tired to point out. The Wakashu gets to work pretty quickly, though not without complaints.

Sinclair noticably grimaces at that. Basilio sweats a bit, and quickly tries to retract his statement.

When Sinclair says this, a blush starts to form on his face. There were surely other reasons, because he could just cut Basilio's head off if he just let himself go. Yet, it's this Wakashu who repays the sparing of his life through small favors, like buying a drink or tending to his wounds.

Settling a fight where one has to kill the other...

Thinking about it as Basilio walks him home, Sinclair wonders if that day will really come, or if their ridiculous little rivalry will become something more.

He shudders at the idea of something bigger. "Not yet." He tells himself, as his scarred hand holds onto the other.