RP log: D1

[phasing-knavery.livejournal.com]

Backdated: 09 January 2006 (first day of school back)
Rating: PG for D1 and fighting, but there is no blood. XD
Summary: they meet at uni; Yagyuu is interrogated and they spar. :D


Schedule, check. Books, check. Additional supplies ... check. It seemed everything was in proper order, and Yagyuu was more than ready to face his first day of classes at the local university.

He arrived with more than enough time to spare, and spent the minutes before the lecture started going over his schedule to ensure that he knew where he would be going after this class ended. The professor was, thankfully, punctual, and delivered to the class a lecture that explained only the syllabus, and ended by saying they would explore the actual course topic more in depth the next time they met. A shame; Yagyuu found himself disappointed -- certainly he could hear as much from any of the instructors at the Brotherhood. Nonetheless, the class released early, and he found he had more than enough time to make the walk across campus to his next class.

Which equated enough time to buy some lunch on the way, if he desired. He decided that was a perfectly valid option, and found himself in line at the student union, counting out the bills he'd brought with him and scanning the menu for something that appeared remotely appetizing.

…there was nothing, Niou decided. Not that he’d been particularly interested in buying lunch anyway – as usual, he had an assortment of small snacks in his backpack, and rarely ate meals as it was. He was about to walk off, having queued up for nothing (though really, a spare hour was a spare hour and there was no such thing as study for the first week of first year) when he spotted what he-swore-to-god was a familiar head of brown hair, just a bit taller than the rest, facing away – but he knew those brown eyes would be hidden. Slinking up behind the figure, Niou leaned in close enough to whisper~ “Hungry? <3” amid the noisy dining hall.

Yagyuu would have jumped if he hadn't recognised the voice as Niou's; instead, he relaxed, and raised his eyes to meet his friend's. "Good morning," he said amicably, apparently unruffled by the not-so-sneak attack. He looked over the posted menu a few more times. "A bit," he answered after a moment. "I thought I'd come here before heading to my next class, since I have some time. I didn't expect to see you here."

“<3” Niou grinned, liking the unexpected sometimes by sheer force of habit. Yagyuu’s class would be next hour like his own then, by the sound of it. “Any special news? It’s been a while~”

"Has it? It doesn't seem so long." Yagyuu placed his order, received it quickly, and paid, then carried his tray to an open table in the corner. "I can't say there have been any new developments that you aren't already aware of," he admitted, in answer to Niou's question. "What about yourself?"

Niou grinned wryly from the seat opposite Yagyuu, wondering what he could possibly say without sounding like the campus crackhead’d sold him some that morning. ‘Oh, Ryoma’s pregnant in exile is all,’ wasn’t the update of a sane person. Not that he always strove to appear particularly sane, but sidestepped the question anyway: “No, not me.”

He folded his arms on the table, chin atop them, watching Yagyuu too intently. Nothing was said for a while, but presently Niou spoke, tone purely inquisitive for now: “What’s Mizuki?”

Yagyuu blinked and set his disposable chopsticks aside. The question was awfully forward, even for Niou -- he knew already, or had surmised, what the nature of Yagyuu and Mizuki's relationship was; there was no need for further clarification. Unless, of course, the aim was to embarrass Yagyuu by making him say it aloud. "Pardon?"

Niou twitched his nose in something like distaste. “What is Mizuki. As a mutated human being: what kind of guy is he? As a person, as a character: what’s he like? How do you see him?” He’d gathered, from pressing random buttons online, that Yagyuu did see Mizuki, in more than one sense of the word, but now he wanted shades of grey for the skeleton.

The truth of the matter was that Yagyuu saw him frequently, and in good light. "He's become very dear to me," he explained -- that was how it should be, after all, if two people were engaged in the manner that Yagyuu was with Mizuki. They'd discussed this previously, after all.

But if that was the case, then certainly Niou must be looking for a more elaborate answer; words that went beyond the basics. He was after an explanation. "He is ... ah, attractive. Well-read. Intelligent, educated, proper. Helpful, when he has cause to be." To put it that way, Mizuki sounded like a wonderful match for Yagyuu. They were of the same class, the same calibre; people like them saw the world differently than people like Niou.

Yagyuu left out the parts about Mizuki being manipulative, selfish, and vain.

Niou snerked, knowing the morpher had neglected to touch the issue’s other side. When he has cause, huh. That one point aside, “Sounds exactly like you, from that descrip. True or false?” he asked, though pretty sure it was the latter, not even bringing his usual knack for reading people into play.

Despite how dissimilar they were in reality, he could pick parallels between Jirou and Yagyuu: in a way, both were boys who’d missed a part of growing up. He’d read the clear tone with which Mizuki had invited Jirou out for ice-cream in the journals way back when – even Fuji had told the kid to stay away. Maybe he was taking things too far, but the fact that Yagyuu cited that Mizuki being ‘very attractive’ as ‘a perfectly good reason for seeing someone’ managed to annoy him off on a fundamental level.

It wasn't really either true or false. "We're similar enough," Yagyuu stated. "Our interests lie in the same areas." He picked up his chopsticks again, and took a few more bites before regarding Niou -- he didn't seem pleased with this development, not pleased at all, and for once, Yagyuu couldn't imagine why. Perhaps he'd read Mizuki wrong. "Have you even met him?"

“No, I haven't,” Niou said half irritated that he had to admit it, “Except online, and that one time you returned to your room as a slut. Which is why I’m asking for your full opinion.”

A slut? That wasn't -- that hadn't been -- He hadn't been nearly that bad, as far as Yagyuu remembered it. But he composed himself; there was no point taking Niou's assessment too personally. "You're asking after the more negative aspects, then," Yagyuu stated. "About his -- ah, vanity, and his selfishness. I won't deny them, if that's what you're asking; I'm aware everyone has flaws."

Acutely so, probably, Niou thought. Half-lidded eyes frowned slightly. In any case, he was only asking for the negative because the flipside had already been noted enough. “I don’t want you to not deny anything; just explain what kind of guy you see him as.” Why did he feel like Nanjirou all of a sudden? Bloody hell. “Not as Yagyuu.”

He wanted to define Mizuki in qualities that weren't necessarily positive or negative, then, but rather, that he didn't share himself. Yagyuu chewed his lunch thoughtfully a moment, and took a long drink of tea. "I'm not certain what you want me to say," he said finally, slowly, "but I'm assuming, from this ... ah, interrogation, that you don't approve."

Yagyuu wasn't sure if that meant Niou was -- dare he think -- jealous, or just that, at face value, he found Mizuki an unsavoury character. Another deep breath, and a nudge of glasses up his nose. Be careful, Hiroshi ... He kept his voice level. "I would, in that case, appreciate your objective input, if you feel that you know something about him that I do not. If it's merely a ... personality clash, then isn't it, ah, my own choice who I decide to share my time with?"

There was a moment of silence in which Niou wasn’t sure whether to laugh or be offended. He decided on neither, settling for a lopsided grin, deliberately uncomfortable. “Of course it is,” though I don’t have to trust your judgement, “There’s been no clash; I know nothing about him.” Though that was going to change by Friday.

He sighed in a manner possibly described as remorseful, leaning against the wall. “Whatever. So long as he doesn’t bend you in ways irreparable.” And the concern in that statement wasn’t a lie, though the sigh had been.

Yagyuu could tell that Niou still wasn't happy with it, but there wasn't anything he could do to change it. Wasn't Niou the one who had been so insistent that Yagyuu follow his own heart instead of simply bending to others' wills for every word and action?

He held back a sigh of his own. Mizuki wasn't affecting him quite so deeply as Niou seemed to assume by suspecting irreparable damage; if anything, Yagyuu had been far more cautious around him than even Niou. The trust was careful, measured; it was paper-thin for Mizuki where it was strong as lead for Niou. "He won't," Yagyuu asserted.

Niou’s countenance brightened at that, and he beamed across the table, though mind still discontent under the surface. “Good <3”

A small pause. A headtilt.

“Who are you with him?”

Not the same as I am with you. Niou's presence almost always elicited Yagyuu's most honest facet; being with Mizuki required deception: the walls and veils and mindgames necessitated someone less liable to be hurt.

Though it may have sounded strange to any other ear, Hiroshi knew that Niou had named his facets already, and he could match names to those that emerged with Mizuki. "Eidolon, when I have to be. Most commonly the Gentleman." Perhaps some mixture of the two.

“Is that so…” the phaser murmured, and stole a chopstick, spinning it between absent fingers. Having only glimpsed Eidolon once, and indirectly at that, he could only say that that person was more self-possessed, stronger than ‘Mister’ Yagyuu; much less unassuming and more sharply edged than Yagyuu ‘Hirochu’…

So, was Mizuki the kind of guy who liked and wanted that? Or did he just require that handling..? A curious thought.

And if he’d already brought Eidolon to the fore… Something not quite like guarded relief finally swung the phaser’s train of thought. With the change in his (theoretical) mental equation, Mizuki-and-Yagyuu was now less what-the-hell-Hirochu? and more hm-strangely-interesting. Where was the possible balance now? If there was any in the first place…

And all the more incentive to get to know the both of them. The chopstick tapped Yagyuu’s cheek where there might’ve been a dimple. “Let’s spar sometime <3”

"If you like." Yagyuu didn't think he'd get the chopstick back on his own, but that was just as well -- he was nearly finished with his lunch anyway. He found it odd that Niou would switch the topic when he'd seemed so very interested in discovering minute details about his relationship with Mizuki. That was fine, though; he didn't mind not giving up more information about his personal life. But he also didn't think Niou would request to spar; that was something usually more relegated to other members of the Brotherhood, and not nearly as interesting as their regular conversations. "Is there any particular time that you had in mind?"

“You’re the one with a schedule to keep,” Niou chuckled. Rather, they both did, but a moonlight fight was just the same as any other to the phaser, and he probably wasn’t as anal about keeping classes as Yagyuu would be.

“Here.” One last spin, and the chopstick was offered back, handle-end first. “You pick a time <3”

"Thank you," Yagyuu said, accepting the utensil. "Evening would be best, I believe," he suggested. "Ah -- another day this week? Or would this evening be fine?" It might be better, Yagyuu thought, if they could meet when neither of them would have much classwork to do, ergo, sooner.

“Tonight?” Niou chuckled, adopting a thinking pose, tapping a finger against his chin. Well, it’s not like he had anything on but training at Ryuhana – and that wouldn’t take that long (and unless he’d gone into premature labour, Ryoma would be less fun as the prince of grumpiness of late – though with good reason, the phaser supposed). He grinned. “Sure <3 Where and when?”

"It may be easier for you to get into our facilities than I to yours," Yagyuu replied. (He didn't add that he knew this only because Black Team had scrapped a mission to infiltrate Ryuhana based on their state-of-the-art security system. A government installation would be – and had been – easier to break into.) "And any time after class has gotten out is fine with me ... if that's alright with you?" He didn't have anything on his schedule after classes here, unless they were to surprise him with an impromptu training session -- which wasn't likely.

“When d’you finish today?” Niou asked. He himself only had a lecture left, seeing as most tutorials didn’t run during term’s first week. “Might follow you home if it’s two hours from now-ish?”

"That can be arranged," Yagyuu said. "I'll meet you outside this building at that time, then?"

“Sure thing <3”

***

Hiroshi had to tell himself at least thrice to focus during his next class, which was far more than a simple handing out of syllabi. The professor protested the lazy teaching methods of his colleagues and launched into the first full-blown lecture of the year, with insistence that students take copious notes. Ordinarily Yagyuu would agree implicitly with such enthusiasm, matching it with his own (because weren't today's students such layabouts compared to yesterday's! the very idea of no real education during the first week of education!), but he knew too well that the impending meeting was leaving him, well, a bit preoccupied.

He didn't like it. It wasn't like him. He wasn't supposed to be one of the lazy students; no, he was the best in his class, in all his classes, and he would make certain to carry that title to university. Nevertheless, he still took his copious notes, as legibly as he could take them, and when class was done he was grateful -- grateful? -- to pack up his effects and meet Niou.

The phaser slouched against the wall outside, looking for all the world like a bum taking shelter under the eaves. Class had been boring as hell: the professor had given out a few sheets of paper detailing the semester’s work, which he’d read, but then fell to doodling when she’d proceeded to parrot what was written.

Margins filled, he’d left class an hour early (because while lecture theatre chairs were more comfortable, outside was better for fidgeting). He'd drawn large version of Yagyuu’s name in the snow with a stick by the time the other showed up.

There was something scrawled in the snow around Niou's feet that Yagyuu couldn't quite distinguish. He'd thought it was a drawing, carved in half-neat lines amidst the footprints of busy students, but as he approached, there was no mistaking the familiar characters of his own name. He raised an eyebrow. "Afraid I wouldn't find you?"

Drawing a <3 beside the last kanji, Niou spun and hid the stick behind his back like a kid with cookies. He beamed. “Whatever do you mean, Hirochu? <3” …in all seriousness: on the contrary – he was pretty sure Yagyuu’d be able to find him, and vice-versa, just about anywhere. It was just one of those things.

He tucked the stick into a back pocket, and merrily appropriated the morpher’s scarf. “Now that you're here, shall we be going?”

"We shall," Yagyuu replied, and didn't protest the theft of his scarf. It looked just as fine on Niou as it did on himself. "I meant only that it seemed like a sign," he elaborated, in reference to Niou's attempt at snow calligraphy, "not that I imagined having any difficulty finding you." He adjusted his glasses with a gloved hand, and shifted his bookbag on one shoulder, then led the way through the slushy remnants of snow on the street back to the building he called home.

It was the same as always, the Brotherhood complex. Niou followed Yagyuu up to his bedroom, dropping his backpack just inside the door and conducting a not-so-discreet visual survey of the room. Nothing had changed. He went back to his bag, pulling things out til he dug up a bundle of black. “Training uniforms?” he asked. Assuming Yagyuu had one; he knew at least that the Brotherhood did.

"I suppose." Yagyuu's version of a training uniform wasn't exactly a uniform, per se, as much as it was a remnant from some bygone mission team Sakaki might have headed once upon a time. The fabric wasn't quite spandex, though it clung enough to be, prompting Yagyuu to wear a long coat over the almost embarrassing material. The gloves were easily removable, if he needed to activate his power.

It was better than training in his stiff-collared shirts and pressed trousers, even if it did make him look more like an action-movie reject than a respectable member of academia. But Eidolon felt at home in these clothes; they helped him move with a soft, stealthy grace that was becoming of someone as self-possessed as he. Just putting the outfit on sharpened Yagyuu's eyes, and he emerged from his private bathroom a different person than the one who went in.

Niou didn't have the benefit of additional covering for modesty; the not-spandex clung to his body as well, leaving little to the imagination -- not that Yagyuu needed to imagine, having glimpsed his friend in the nude on one occasion prior to this. Eidolon stared, and stared approvingly, at that. "Nice," he commented. "You're ready?"

“Very~” Niou purred, equally appreciative as he eyed Yagyuu in return. The phaser had no real qualms about Ryuhana’s uniforms, or the wearing of them – but it was a shame less dressed as Yagyuu was currently (or that the morpher didn’t wear his training gear more often, for that matter). The long, sleeveless jacket emphasized his fair height; extended gloves and tall boots and dark colours all lending a definite edge to his figure. Niou dropped his voice to a whisper on the way to the door: “Nice indeed.”

His things were already back in his bag, except for the darts – his most offensive items (and only offensive items really, save for a pocket knife); he picked them up along with his uniform’s tabi-like ‘shoes’, heading out.

Niou's approval would've made Hiroshi blush; Eidolon did no such thing. 'This way,' he motioned wordlessly, beckoning his friend down a hallway, down a staircase, and across a path to a wholly different building at the complex. A blast of heat hit them as Eidolon pushed open a heavy door, revealing what appeared to be a standard gymnasium -- not unlike those one might find at most high schools, with hoops at either end and lines for various sports painted onto the floor. It wasn't much, and couldn't possibly be compared to what Yagyuu suspected they must have at Ryuhana for training facilities (if indeed they still had them; he couldn't recall seeing any building large enough for training during his recent visits).

Another wordless glance, a tilt of the head, to ask Niou if he was ready to begin -- Eidolon did not waste words when they weren't necessary -- and he took his own position on the far end of the room, apparently unassuming but somehow still made up of angles.

Niou sat, pulling on his tabi now, having walked on phased feet across the complex. He was ready – of course he was ready – as Eidolon seemed to be. But he wasn’t going to initiate things. Not rising, but eyes still on the morpher, he began to stretch, reaching out to his toes. Despite this, “Ready <3” he smiled. “The first move is yours anytime.” Yagyuu’s manners wouldn’t let him take it; would Eidolon’s?

Despite what he claimed, Niou didn't look ready. Eidolon considered the best strategy for dealing with someone who could become intangible at will. His knives would be useless, as would his martial arts training -- unless, of course, the element of surprise precluded a phase, which was entirely possible.

Speed might also be an advantage, since he knew Niou's processes operated at a slower pace than average. Either way, a direct approach was out of the question. He'd be better off reacting, using Niou's moves as point to his own counterpoint.

He waited.

“Why don’t you come?” Niou queried, tone softly curious but pitched to carry. He stretched out his shoulders and turned back to face the wall, every movement marked by slow deliberateness. Since Eidolon hadn’t made a move, Niou now wondered if it could be attributed to the aforementioned chivalry, there had been no opening, or if he was strictly one to react… He listened carefully.

Facing away, the exaggerated langorousness of movement, the taunt -- it was a bluff. Eidolon hung back, glided parallel to his starting position, careful to leave himself an opening should he need it. Kept his eyes on Niou. Asked, unspoken, why don't you?

“I’m waiting for you,” Niou chuckled, finality edging his words. Crouching on his toes, gold eyes slipped shut and he fingered the darts on the floor by his sides, four and five by right and left respectively. For all intents and purposes, he definitely looked ready now. “Hit me with your best. I won’t phase <3” Half because maybe that kind of training was more of a challenge sometimes, and half because maybe it would be unexpected. On fingers and toes, he kept his breath silent, ears at the ready.

Eidolon's nerves tensed, insisting he didn't mean it, but Yagyuu's trust of Niou won out, and together they moved fluidly forward. One knife was tucked into his right glove, but he didn't want to hurt him (go on, he can take it), and delivered as his opening a blow with the left. Not as strong, but certainly capable.

Eidolon was quicker than Niou reckoned – quieter, too – he heard the too-faint rustle of cloth only a split-second before contact to his left shoulder. Slightly off-guard, he tucked a moment late, feeling the heavy impact and half falling but spinning right with the blow, a foot lashing out for Yagyuu’s knees as he did. His right hand sent two darts flying bodily for neck and stomach; dart wounds were rarely fatal, but they’d make no mistake he was playing for real.

And those weren't practise darts. Eidolon skidded backwards, out of the path, but connected prematurely with the leg aimed for his knees. He fell gracefully, bracing himself before hitting the floor, and picked himself back up to move behind Niou.

He'd have to stay behind him, or attempt to remain just out of the range of sight. He was just an image, now, meant to be unseen and unheard. It was far more difficult to achieve without his team members to siphon personality elements from.

Instead, he'd just have to use what he did have -- and that was Niou. Only his face was left uncovered by the Ryuhana training uniform. With one dark glove removed, he waited until the other boy moved again, knife still at the ready and less afraid to use it.

“Do you fight with him?” Niou asked, a pair of darts in either hand now, silently demanding a reply as he turned again, stepping back in an attempt at distance and eye-contact. Eidolon was too quiet and it set the phaser on edge – silence was usually his forte, but not now.

All the same, there was only one of the other, and in this environment Niou was pretty sure he could handle anything up to close quarters hand-to-hand with relative ease. Just as well: he didn’t think either of them were that kind of fighter.

They weren't. Their darts and knives were too similar; it was only a matter of how much steel tipped one or the other. Eidolon followed the dance, copying Niou's lazy circle of the room as their eyes met and he answered with a calm, "No."

They didn't need to. Both of them -- Eidolon and Mizuki -- knew that the relationship was little more than pretense; what cause was there to argue with someone when you both knew the other was lying? Yagyuu knew it, too, though at an intuitive level. It was Hiroshi that believed in what he was doing, the poor thing.

He turned the table, a step slightly off the rhythm but close enough that Niou would have to follow the lead Eidolon established now. "Do you?"

The phaser left the pace in the other’s hands – he would play along for the moment – still circling. “With Ryoma?” He smiled. “No.” Why, after all? They thought too similarly for disagreement most of the time. He wondered what Eidolon would make of that. He stopped, facing the morpher full on now, hands by sides at the ready. “Think we ought to?”

"If you mean it," Eidolon said. If he valued his relationship, if it was real enough, then certainly arguments would come to the surface. People didn't get along that well without false fronts, without lies. They just didn't. "Do you mean it?" He became more aware of the knife in his hand.

Niou felt himself lower into a half-crouch. “Of course I do.” His left arm drew back just slightly, ready for a throw, mostly calm, perhaps a little edgy, over the unasked question of What the hell do you mean?

Eidolon didn't say anything. He lunged forward, instead, the knifepoint gleaming in his right hand and his left bare. He planted his palm against Niou's face, absorbing quickly and thoroughly (depth now unrelated to the time of initial contact thanks to intensive training). He shifted. Shook out the slowness of Niou's body but kept the sharpness of his mind, his golden eyes with perfect vision, his silver hair, his left hand.

He pulled back. Swapped the knife into his other hand. He wasn't used to this. He wasn't the team's close-range fighter. He needed to be this close.

Niou hissed quietly as if the hand burned, pulling back – fine, if that’s the way things were going to be, if Eidolon was going to leave, then fine. These kinds of games were always double-edged anyway. He dropped down, dropped the darts in his left hand, sprang forward. Eidolon had knives; wouldn’t for long.

That didn't matter, either. Niou -- Illusion -- no, Elusion, wasn't it? -- could try for whatever he wanted; Eidolon reached for the abandoned darts and palmed them, readied them for tossing just moments later, after he regained his centre of balance, after he got back to his feet.

Elusion had probably gotten at least one of the knives, maybe two, and that was fair, two for two. Eidolon barely had time to pause before launching one of the darts at his opponent, aiming for a high shoulder and expecting a phase, hoping not to get one. What he wanted -- what he needed -- was to steal the phase for himself, and he wasn't sure he could do that yet.

So close to Eidolon’s throw as he turned, Niou only saw a flash of metal in the corner of his eye – the next second, there was a clatter behind him as the dart hit the floor a dozen feet back. Fuck. He’d felt it go through his shoulder dead on target, but had phased. Fuck. Now that was arguably the bigger pain in the ass. “Fuck me.” He’d said he wouldn’t, but now—

He didn’t know who he was facing, either – Eidolon? Or had he taken Niou’s mindset as well as appearance? Whatever – he did know what he himself would do, so this was an opportunity to find out if Yagyuu would do the same. And if the morpher didn’t – if Yagyuu was still Eidolon – then maybe the afternoon wouldn’t be such a wasted experiment after all.

Niou straightened back up, dropped the pairs of darts and blades, raising his arms crucifix-style, cool fiery eyes pinning onto his counterpart. “Go. Free hit.”

Free hit? Free hit? Yagyuu blinked, stared, a bit dumbfounded -- why was he being offered this opportunity? -- before Eidolon slid back into place and delivered a swift kick to his gut. There were no actual rules in battle, only perceived ones, and Elusion was a fool not to know that.

Niou folded, doubling over on his knees, jaw clenched. Ah, he’d known that was going to hurt – was even vaguely proud of the pain, the half-sick feeling – as the irritation seeped in. He’d tensed for it, expecting, bodily ready – and would’ve been okay had the impact landed then – but then the hesitation and Yagyuu had shown up – Eidolon wouldn’t have paused – and Niou had let his guard down just that split-second, inadvertently relaxing – and now he was having trouble standing again. “I give.”

Intentionally or not, Yagyuu had won. But that didn’t matter to the phaser so much as the fact that he had his two answers now: Mister Yagyuu did arms-length transactions, and Eidolon’s were one step more removed. Colder. Lower. Mizuki couldn’t want that, which meant Yagyuu knew Mizuki needed that handling.

And Niou was now also pretty sure that Eidolon’s mind was still Eidolon’s. Given a free hit offer like that, ‘Niou’ would’ve walked up and pressed a dart slowly into his shoulder, right where the damage should’ve been done. A punishment not only slower, but more lasting, more personal than a boot in the gut.

"Good," Eidolon said succinctly, and dropped his fighting stance. He was still hyper-aware of everything; would be for some time, as he tended to be after a good spar. Even if this wasn't exactly the best fight (too short, too easy a win), Elusion was a good opponent -- he was a strong thinker, and moved far more quickly than Eidolon would have assumed based on his mutation.

The morph faded as Eidolon did, and Yagyuu felt almost too exotic in the sleek mission costume. He blinked, and approached Niou cautiously, hovering over his friend curled on the floor. "I -- ah. Are you well? I don't believe I intended to kick quite so hard. I --" and he was about to apologise again, but cut himself off, and crouched beside him instead, looking closer for any signs of lingering discomfort. It looked like Niou would be alright...

‘I don’t believe I intended..?’ “Sure,” the phaser snerked. “Just deny the fact you’re a heartless bastard, hm? <3” But a lopsided grin resurfaced as the words left his mouth, and he sat back up easily enough.

"But I'm really not," Yagyuu insisted, even as a quiet voice added Most of the time. He brushed off the internal comment, catching instead Niou's small grin and returning it. "Thank you." It seemed right to thank him for the practise, even if Yagyuu himself had been hidden behind some other layer during its course.

“Most welcome,” Niou chuckled, rolling his shoulders with a deep, satisfied breath. “That felt good.” Borrowing Yagyuu’s shoulder to stand, he handed the morpher’s two knives back with a wink and light smirk. “Take good care of the missus, mm-kay? <3”

Yagyuu blinked a bit dumbly -- whether at the statement or the knives, he couldn't tell exactly. Possibly a combination of both. He schooled his features as he accepted his weapons, tucking them into his boot and his gauntlet. "I, ah, I shall," he replied. It was all he could think of to say in response.

“Wonderful,” Niou grinned, and backtracked around the hall to collect his nine scattered darts. He’d be sure to ask Mizuki about it too, when they met up for skating come Friday evening.