Mono had planned to rest. To sit in his room, clear his thoughts, and let the weight of the tournament settle. He had planned to take it easy, maybe stretch a little, maybe shut his eyes for a while.
But his stomach had other plans.
The moment he stepped outside, the scent of fresh bread and sizzling spices hit him, pulling his attention straight toward the store across the courtyard.
The merchants had arrived earlier in the day, unloading crates filled with imported goods—fresh fruit, soft rolls, cured meats, dried nuts, and sweets packed neatly into glass jars. Fighters and spectators alike moved between the stalls, inspecting the selections. Some stocked up on essentials, preparing for the tournament days ahead. Others grabbed a bite simply because they could.
The sun hung high overhead, its golden light stretching lazily across the stone paths. The air carried the warmth of afternoon, blending with the quiet hum of conversation among passing competitors.
Mono reached into his pocket and pulled out a few sunmarks. He placed them on the wooden counter as he picked out a honey-glazed roll and a pouch of seasoned nuts, letting the familiar scent remind him of the simpler comforts in life.
The merchant, an older man with silver-flecked hair, nodded in approval, sliding the pouch toward him. "Good choice," he said, adjusting the arrangement of his baskets. "These just arrived this morning—straight from the eastern farmlands."
Mono gave a small nod in response and turned toward a shaded bench near the entrance, settling in as he took his first bite.
He barely had time to enjoy the taste before he felt it.
A presence.
No—two.
The sensation brushed against the edges of his awareness—not strong, not overwhelming, but intentional. Carefully restrained, just enough to make it clear that whoever was watching him wasn't doing so by accident.
Mono took another bite, chewing slowly before resting his elbows on his knees. Then, in a calm voice, he said, "Alright. Who's there?"
The bushes rustled lightly behind him, and two figures stepped out.
Renji and Kaito.
Renji smirked. "You found us."
Mono blinked, caught off guard. It had been a while since he'd seen either of them, yet here they were, standing like they'd just walked out of yesterday.
There was a pause—long enough for the tension to settle between him and Renji.
Kaito, as always, was relaxed, hands in his pockets, watching the interaction with mild amusement. Mono could already tell he was enjoying this a little too much.
Renji cleared his throat, shifting his weight slightly. "Uh—" he started, turning toward Kaito as if expecting him to say something.
But Kaito was gone.
Renji inhaled slowly through his nose. 'You absolute coward,' he thought bitterly, resisting the urge to curse out loud.
Mono raised an eyebrow. "…You lost something?"
Renji exhaled sharply. "Nothing important."
The silence between them sat thick for a few moments, neither moving.
Mono took a bite of his bread.
Renji, after what looked like a battle with himself, sat down beside him.
Kaito, meanwhile, was already halfway across the courtyard, hands still casually in his pockets, whistling lightly to himself.
He had slipped away the moment Renji turned toward him, knowing exactly what was about to happen.
'Renji really needs to learn how to talk to people normally,' he thought, shaking his head. 'Maybe this will finally force him to figure it out.'
He wasn't entirely cruel—just aware that forcing Renji into situations like this might actually help.
Might.
At least, that was the excuse he was going with.
Still whistling, Kaito strolled toward the tournament grounds, perfectly at ease.
Renji, on the other hand, was not.
"You planning on winning?"
Mono swallowed. "Yeah."
Renji nodded, resting his arms on his knees. "Good."
Another pause.
Mono didn't mind it. Renji, however, looked like he was drowning in it.
Then, finally, Renji sighed, rubbing his neck. "I don't know if I even like tournaments."
Mono glanced at him. "Then why are you here?"
Renji leaned back slightly, staring at the sky. "I guess I like the alternative even less."
Mono took another bite, chewing slowly. "What's the alternative?"
Renji sighed, watching a group of fighters near the merchant stalls. "Going back."
Mono tilted his head slightly, studying him. Renji had never been the type to sound defeated, but there was something in his voice—something that hinted at a weight he hadn't fully put into words.
Renji shook his head slightly. "I don't know if fighting is what I want. But it's what I ended up doing."
Mono leaned forward slightly. "So why do you keep doing it?"
Renji was quiet for a moment. Then, after a long breath, he said, "Maybe because stopping feels worse."
Mono nodded slowly, letting the answer settle between them.
The silence between them had changed—not tense, not awkward, just there.
Renji stretched out his legs, letting out a slow breath. "What about you?"
Mono shrugged. "I don't know where I come from. Orphan. That's all I remember."
Renji turned to him, studying his face briefly before nodding. "You never wanted to look into it?"
Mono shook his head. "There's nothing to look for."
Renji thought about that. "I don't know if that's freeing or terrifying."
Mono took another bite. "Both."
Renji scoffed quietly, shaking his head before leaning back. "You make everything sound simple."
Mono smirked. "It usually is."
Renji let out a short laugh, stretching his arms above his head. The tension had faded completely now, replaced by something strangely easy—something that felt more normal than any interaction they'd had in a while.
It made Mono wonder if Renji would have fit Tokira more that himself. Their characters somewhat matched, or so he thought.