The Ichimōnban Training Hall was nearly silent.
Only the rhythmic sound of a bde cutting through the air filled the space.
Shff.
Shff.
Shff.
Watari stood alone, his silhouette cast in the dim glow of the nterns. His body ached, his muscles burned, but he didn’t stop. His grip on Takemikazuchi was steady, but the motion—something about it—was off.
Not precise.
Not refined.
Just… frustrated.
He exhaled through clenched teeth.
Why?
Why couldn’t he get it right?
Again.
Shff.
Shff.
Shff.
Each swing carried the weight of something heavier than just exhaustion.
And then—
A presence.
Soft footsteps. Familiar.
Watari didn’t turn.
“…You should be asleep.”
Yumi’s voice was light, but there was something knowing in it.
“So should you,” she countered.
He exhaled sharply but didn’t argue. Just swung again.
Shff.
Yumi leaned against the doorframe, watching for a moment. His stance was strong. His form was sharp. But something about it felt… different.
Like he wasn’t swinging with his bde. Like he was forcing it.
She let the silence sit for a while before speaking.
“You’re too stubborn for your own good, you know that?”
Watari scoffed under his breath. “Yeah. I hear that a lot.”
She hummed. “Good. Because it’s true.”
Shff.
Silence again.
Yumi stepped forward, slow, measured. She came to stand beside him, watching his form more closely.
“…You’re not swinging like yourself.”
Watari tensed slightly but said nothing.
Yumi continued. “It’s like you’re trying to be something else. Someone else.” She folded her arms. “You’re thinking too much.”
Watari lowered his bde slightly. “Maybe I should be thinking more.”
Yumi sighed. “Watari.”
Something about the way she said his name made him pause.
She wasn’t teasing.
She wasn’t mocking.
She was just… there.
And for some reason, that made it harder to keep swinging.
“…You don’t have to do this alone, you know.”
Watari exhaled. “I’m not alone.”
She gave him a look. “You know what I mean.”
He gripped his bde tighter. “If I can’t even get the basics right, how can I expect—”
“Stop.”
The word cut through the air sharper than his sword ever could.
Yumi stepped in front of him, arms still crossed, her golden eyes steady. “You don’t have to prove anything to us. We already know who you are.”
Watari clenched his jaw.
She sighed. “Look, I get it.” Her voice softened, just slightly. “I know how it feels to want to be stronger. To carry everything yourself because it feels like you have to.”
A pause.
“But you’re not alone.”
She tilted her head slightly, a small smirk pying at her lips. “You do know that, right?”
Watari didn’t answer immediately.
Yumi shook her head, stepping closer. “Two years ago, you were some reckless idiot with a lightning bde who didn’t know when to stop talking.”
Watari let out a tired chuckle. “And now?”
She grinned. “Now, you’re a slightly less reckless idiot with a lightning bde who still doesn’t know when to stop talking.”
He huffed. “Wow. Progress.”
Yumi’s smirk faded slightly. “It is progress.” She held his gaze. “You’ve grown, Watari. We all have. And we’re going to keep growing. Together.”
Silence stretched between them.
Then—
Yumi reached forward, resting a hand on his wrist—the one still holding Takemikazuchi.
“…That’s enough for tonight.”
Watari hesitated.
She squeezed lightly. “Go to bed, idiot.”
Another beat of silence.
Then—slowly, finally—Watari exhaled.
He loosened his grip.
Let the tension ease from his shoulders.
And lowered his bde.
“…Yeah.” His voice was quiet. “Okay.”
Yumi nodded, satisfied. She turned, making her way toward the exit.
But before she stepped out, she gnced back.
“Oh, and Watari?”
He looked at her.
She smirked. “If you really do want to prove something, then do it by not getting your ass kicked again.”
Watari chuckled, shaking his head. “Tch. No promises.”
And for the first time that night—he smiled.
“Where would I be without you?”
“Probably dead somewhere from mindlessly chasing a cat.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”
CUT TO BLACK.
