Chapter Text
“...Would you like to join me for some tea, Hyperlaser?”
The grip upon the railgun slipped for a split second, as Hyperlaser recovered it before the weapon could clang to the ground. To most, Katana’s request would not warrant Hyperlaser’s surprise; after all, Hyperlaser and Katana often spent their nights partaking in stronger beverages. However, in those nights spent inside a near-empty bar with the melodies of smooth jazz mixing in the air with the stinging scent of alcohol, the mercenary had learned of the swordsman’s passion for tea—how it was a sacred tradition of his, only shared between himself and the ones he cherished most.
Hyperlaser cleared out the squeak in his throat, “I would love to. Where will we meet?”
The white cloth sliding upon the silver blade steadily lost its purity to the blood seeping into the silk as Katana spoke again, “You are welcome to my house for supper and a tea ceremony afterward.” The cloth, completing the sacrifice of its beauty to cleanse the blade, was folded and tucked away. As Katana sheathed his weapon, Hyperlaser’s reflection danced along its length before the hilt clicked against the leather. “I vow to be a most gracious host to you tonight.”
Even with every scar and eternal ache on his body, Hyperlaser still retained the reflexes to avert his gaze from Katana’s face when the swordsman turned his way. He busied himself with locking his rifle in its case, yet he could not resist taking a peek back at Katana through the reflection of the metal bolts. The swordsman had not broken his stare, resolving to wait for Hyperlaser to gather his courage to meet his eye.
When his distracting task had come to its end, he slung the case across his shoulder and turned around, surprised to be met by Katana’s outstretched hand. Beneath a cold mask lay a warm expression—an expression that the invitee nearly melted under.
“Whenever you are ready, Hyperlaser,” he offered his extended hand to the mercenary. Wordlessly, Hyperlaser’s hand fit perfectly into Katana’s as they allowed the silence between them to speak volumes by their gazes alone.
As they finally found their way to the exit of the Darkage Cliffs, two green eyes hidden beneath the cover of the bush branches narrowed upon the departing pair. The spy had been observing Katana and Hyperlaser throughout the entire series of matches; he had studied every gesture Katana had passed the mercenary’s way, followed by the mercenary’s reaction. By the time Dom and Valk had declared their team the winners and had paid them their dues, an unpleasant sensation churned in his gut.
He was at least grateful to Illumina that the two at his study donned masks; if he took one glance at their blushing faces, he was certain he would hurl.
In a flash of lime green and black, the spy had disappeared from the bush with a trail of falling leaves as the only evidence of his quick escape. He grappled to a nearby roof and stalked upon its shingles, his eyes still glued to the two older men. They were walking uncomfortably close (well, at least for the spy’s comfort), lightly chuckling and humming to each other’s personal ramblings. The worst detail that he could not detract his focus from was their hands—intertwined fingers, locking them next to each other for the duration of the walk back to Katana’s house.
Ugh, it rocked his empty stomach to sickness.
The spy leaped across the air and landed on the roof of a small shop wafting a deliciously sweet aroma from its windows: his favorite sweets shop. Perhaps an empty stomach was the best one to get sick on from his mentor’s disgustingly sweet affection for the Blackrock mercenary, but the comfort of a sweet treat was too tempting for the spy to refuse at this time. He slid in through a side window and entered the kitchen, relishing in the freshness of the baked goods cooling nearby.
“Shuriken! You’re not here to rob me, are you?” the shopkeeper’s voice called his name, and he peeked his head out of the kitchen to greet her.
He laughed, “No, no. I would never do that to you.” While a notorious thief was he to the food vendors of Thieves’ Den, he found this particular shop’s food far too divine to steal. Even if he did so, he always left a few Bux by the cash register with a note saying to keep the change. “I just need something to make me feel better…”
The shopkeeper paused her work by the display to tilt her head at his sigh. “What is the matter, Shuriken?”
He slouched against the wall and complained, “Katana’s bringing this guy from Blackrock home for tea tonight, but I just don’t wanna have to put up with a Blackrock dude, you know? Those guys are all just… eh…” He could not find the exact words to describe his feelings toward Blackrock’s residents, but he was sure many shared a similar feeling and could vouch for it.
“Maybe you should keep an open mind, Shuriken.” The shopkeeper proved to be one of the few to contradict this mindset as she continued organizing her food for the glass display. “If Katana trusts him, perhaps he is not as bad as you think.”
“I know but… ugh,” he whined, thudding the back of his head against the wall. He knew that Hyperlaser only affiliated with Blackrock for his own personal gain despite his disdain for its reputation, yet after many matches where the mercenary’s laser pierced straight through him, he was unsure about his security with that same bounty hunter dining in his home. Why couldn’t Katana choose to take an interest in someone a bit… nicer?
The shopkeeper proposed, “You know, you said you will be having tea tonight? Maybe you can bring some food for a tea ceremony home.” She pointed to a shelf with a few pre-packaged foods for tea ceremonies, and Shuriken wasted no time snatching it on the shelf as well as a few treats for himself and slamming his Bux down on the counter. She giggled, “Are you that fond of my baking, Shuriken?”
“Indeed I am! Thank you again, miss!” And just like that, he was gone.
Shuriken bit into Daifuku as he walked through the backstreets. Occasionally, he would peek around a corner and see Katana waiting patiently as Hyperlaser perused a shop. As he predicted, the food he consumed sickened him even more, but the sweet taste of the daifuku mochi combated the bitterness forming in his mouth at seeing Katana’s large hand rest upon Hyperlaser’s back.
He finally reached the home he shared with his sister, friend, and mentor after a long trek on the stone path winding up to the peak of the hill. Before he could balance the boxes in his one arm to knock with a free hand, the door slid open, and Vinestaff stuck her face out the crack.
“How was the phight? And don’t tell me you stole those!” she switched from a kind smile to an annoyed furrow of her brows once she saw the boxes in Shuriken’s arm.
He defended himself, “Hey, I paid for them! And the phight went well, thank you very much.” He shut the door with his foot before kicking off his sandals and making a beeline for the kitchen.
Vinestaff resumed her questionnaire, “What do you even need those for? Please don’t tell me you’re gonna eat them all by yourself!”
“I’m not! Unlike you guys, I’m trying to help out Katana here,” Shuriken jutted his hip out to rest his hand on it. Vinestaff silently watched his pose with a grimace on her face. Shuriken groaned at the judgment replacing Vinestaff’s questions (he couldn’t one-up her if there was no response) and explained, “He’s bringing someone over tonight for dinner and a tea ceremony.”
“A TEA CEREMONY!? Oh, gods! I have to get the tea leaves picked and ground up, I have to arrange the garden, I have to arrange ALL of the house’s plants! Why didn’t you tell me sooner!?” That sent Vinestaff into a frenzy as she buzzed around the house like a mother trying to rush her kids out the door.
Shuriken nodded with a smug grin, “Yeah, you go do that, Vine.” He trodded up the staircase to Slingshot’s room to crash his evening calls with Skateboard. “Hey, Sling! We have company coming over in a few minutes!”
Slingshot looked up from the call to smile, “Aw, yeah! Who’s coming over?”
“Hyperlaser.”
His smile dropped into a wide-eyed expression, as if a flashbang stunned him.
“Hyper- Hyperlaser..? Like- THE Hyperlaser?”
Shuriken nodded slowly. “Yep.”
Several seconds passed in shocked silence until Skateboard’s voice blared through the phone’s speaker, “Yo, dude. You alright?”
“I gotta go, see ya,” Slingshot said in one breath and ended the call before Skateboard could jam in another word. “What the FUCK, dude.”
Shuriken shrugged and gestured to the door, “I know, but we gotta go help Vine. I don’t want her doing all the work by herself.”
Slingshot sprang out of his bed and landed perfectly into a hasty start, “Alright, let’s get to work, then. I’ll tidy up around the house.”
“And I’ll get the dishes ready,” Shuriken added.
From the bottom of the stairs, Vinestaff cried, “Finally, I'm getting some help around here!”
For the next several minutes, the trio cleaned and decorated the house from ceiling to floor in flowers and clean silverware. Vinestaff had adorned each pot with beautiful flower bouquets of yellow camellias and primroses sprinkled with white blossoms of the apricot tree. Shuriken had shined five of each plate, bowl, and silverware until he could see his reflection and set them on the counter for Katana’s future use. Slingshot zoomed around the house as quick as a hare tidying whatever articles had come loose and whatever painting and ornament seemed lopsided or shifted a little too far in one direction.
After around fifteen minutes, Shuriken spotted Katana reaching the top of the hill and assisting Hyperlaser to the peak by the hand. The three took their remaining minute to tidy their outfits and compose themselves, peppering conversation in between.
“Do you think Katana would think the house is clean enough?” Slingshot asked, admiring the work he had done to organize the house.
To his misfortune, Shuriken retorted, “Katana would not think the house is clean even if Illumina blessed it to be forever spotless. We’re so gonna get a lecture for this.”
As Vinestaff tied her bouquet for the guest in a pink ribbon of silk, she sighed, “Well, we did our best. It’s better than Katana coming home to do all the work.”
“True. He wouldn’t want to embarrass himself in front of his darling dearest guest,” Shuriken mocked with a mushy, immature voice.
“Oh, quiet. Who even is this guest, anyway? We’re doing all of this preparation as if a Sword is coming into our home,” Vinestaff said.
Slingshot and Shuriken shot a glance of guilt her way before Shuriken peeped, “Shit, did we not tell you..?”
“No? Who is it?”
“...Hyperlaser.”
“Hyper- WHO NOW—”
The door slowly slid open, and the trio stiffened themselves into flawless position. They would not ruin this for Katana.
A stream of light poured into the house, showering the trio in its glorious light. A heavy metal boot rattled first into the house, and in stepped the mercenary of Blackrock. The reflection of his helmet gleamed with the mirroring of the three thieves’ faces back at themselves—the perfect ploy to hide his keen eyes’ studying of the three Phighters he had seen previously on the battlefield… and their strange smiles stretched forcefully at his presence as they bowed to him.
As Katana followed, Hyperlaser muttered to him, “These three, are they your own..?”
The swordsman shook his head. “Not by blood. I simply share my home with them.” A slight tilt of his head toward the three hinted that he had more to say, and sure enough, he added, “...And I do consider them my closest.”
“I see.” Hyperlaser stepped over the mat, his soles clanging noisily against the immaculate tiles. The trio’s eyes shot as wide as discs at the sight of Hyperlaser’s shoes on their floor—their immaculate floor just recently cleaned. Only Vinestaff managed to retain her forced smile, as Shuriken had to turn away in pain to scream quietly into his hands and Slingshot simply allowed his shock to be painted across his face in a clear picture of his emotions. They could not tell if a Blackrock mercenary within their home or said mercenary’s dirty shoes upon their floor was the worse curse afflicting their home.
Hyperlaser, now clueless of their expressions, admired the house, “What a beautiful home, Katana.”
Katana left his shoes by the entrance and replied, “Thank you, Hyperlaser. You are fortunate to have come at a time when it is not wildly unclean.” He turned to shoot a glare at Shuriken—the primary cause of the house’s mess, but upon a glance at his current state, Katana flinched and asked, “Shuriken, are you well?”
“Yep- Yep. I’m… I’m good. I’m—” Shuriken made the mistake of peeking back at Hyperlaser’s shoes upon the floor, and he hunched over more painfully, stumbling to the wall to support himself. Nevertheless, he wheezed, “...I’m alright. Just give me a second.”
As Shuriken was out of commission in his state of utter disgust, Vinestaff tugged Slingshot to her side and pulled both him and herself forward to stand before the mercenary and bring before his gaze a little bouquet of flowers.
“For you, Sir..!” she squeaked, holding it out to him with trembling hands. Her own terrified gaze bore back into her from the reflection of his helmet’s glass as she forced her quivering smile even more before the mercenary. A few seconds of uncomfortable silence dragged between them before Hyperlaser’s hand rose, nearly scaring the poor demons into a run for their lives.
However, he picked up the bouquet delicately and mumbled, “Thank you. These flowers are quite nice.” His fingers grazed delicately over the yellow, pink, and white petals to admire the beauty of their color.
Their voices cowering deep within their throats, Vinestaff and Slingshot could only offer a shaky thumbs-up before scurrying behind Katana, who had stepped forward after determining Shuriken’s melodramatic behavior.
“Thank you once again for joining us for supper and tea, Hyperlaser. We shall make sure your visit is worthwhile,” Katana’s voice fell to a low, grumbling sound—his voice of affection, as the three could tell.
And to their surprise, Hyperlaser understood it too, as he picked up Katana’s hand and answered, “It already is, Katana.”
The two stood as still as statues, timeless in their pose and unconfessed love. Perhaps they had already recognized such feelings in the other’s face and gestures, but maybe then they simply basked in each other’s calm signs of affection. Regardless, they enjoyed the moment of staring at each other beyond both masks and into the deepest of their souls—a talent no one else but them could have mastered. And perhaps life was not perfect, but in each other’s presence, all corruption seeped away every time the warmth of a touch or a glance made the world perfect.
The trio slowly snuck away to camp out in Slingshot’s room to wait until Katana called them down for supper. As they busied themselves with entertainment and conversation, the discomfort of the mercenary’s presence within their home etched deeper and deeper into their calm demeanors until Shuriken was the first to burst.
“Okay, what the fuck is that guy thinking!?” he hissed.
Slingshot broke as well, adding, “I know! He has the AUDACITY to come into OUR home and trail his dirty Blackrock boots onto our PRISTINE floors. That I CLEANED.”
As warm as Vinestaff’s perception of people always was, now it was as cold as ice as she folded her arms and grimaced, “We’ll just have to tolerate him until he leaves.”
“Yeah, but what if he comes back again? And again and again, until eventually he’s moving in as our DAD,” Shuriken threw his hands around with his furious words, “We already know Katana’s smitten with him! It’s only a matter of time before we’re the ring boys and flower girls for the wedding!”
The three demons shivered at the thought being fed to their wild imaginations. It felt like hell even thinking about the mercenary marching around their home in muddied boots, waking them up at ungodly hours every morning, and acting all mushy in front of their older roommate.
Vinestaff sighed, “I suppose it’s destiny, as Katana says. We cannot interfere with their relationship.”
A silence settled over them; however, it was not one of defeat, for a devilish smirk crossed over Shuriken’s face. Vinestaff and Slingshot peeked at his visage as he began to chuckle darkly.
“...Or can we..?”
“...What are you suggesting..?” A mischievous grin formed on Slingshot’s mouth, and he shifted around on his bed to listen to Shuriken.
Catching onto the idea, Vinestaff murmured, “Oh, dear.”
Shuriken stood to face the bedroom's door, and the two others paired behind him. His grin stretched from ear to ear, his plan perfectly conjured.
“Katana thinks Hyperlaser’s perfect, but we’ll show him who that mercenary really is.”