hazy || muichiro tokito x oc (kny)

seven: contact

-♡-

"OH MY! WHAT HAPPENED?"

mitsuri sees amata and daisuke trudging into the building just after muichiro, their backs slumped and aura's depressed. muichiro only sits across his smith and explains what he wants his sword to look like.

"takahashi-san tried to kill us." amata yawns.

"hey! if you had just not run away!" daisuke yells back.

"oh, bite me!" amata yells at him, placing her hands on her hips.

"you tried to kill her?!" mitsuri gasps.

"and tokito-san treated me like a child! he ratted me out!" amata complains.

"you nearly pushed him to his death!"

"you nearly stabbed him to his death!"

daisuke and amata grit their teeth at each other until mitsuri kindly steps between, putting her hands between the two.

"um, let's take deep breaths!" she suggests. "in..." she breathes in happily before sighing. "and out!"

amata and daisuke copy her before relaxing a bit.

"takahashi-san?"

"yes, kanroji-san?"

amata forces a smile. "would you please forge my sword?"

daisuke nods. "of course. please take a seat on the blue pillow."

amata approaches the pillow, gulping as she realizes it's next to the cute, misty-eyed boy on the green pillow.

as she begins to sit down, mitsuri approaches her.

"scooch!" she bumps amata with her hip and the small girl yelps as she gets knocked onto the floor, nearly making contact with muichiro.

his smith glares at her and she winces. "sorry!"

she quickly scoots onto the half-pillow space mitsuri saves for her as daisuke comes back with paper and ink.

"so, what style were we looking for?" he asks calmly.

"well, amata thinks she would be too clumsy for a sword like mine, but maybe something close could be good! i think a curved sword or one with elasticity would be absolutely perfect! but, it needs to have a dream-like look..."

amata feels herself beginning to fall asleep as mitsuri drones on and on about the sword. her body feels weightless as he eyelids droop shut.

mitsuri and daisuke seem not to notice her trance-like state as they develop an idea of the sword. amata drops her head on mitsuri's shoulder, but the woman is unfazed as she wraps an arm around amata's shoulder while she remains talking.

muichiro, however notices. he ignores his own swordsmith as he slowly looks over at the sleeping girl. her eyelids rest so easily and her chest gently rises and falls.

he notices the way a stray strand of hair falls onto her cheek. mitsuri and daisuke ramble on and on about a sword amata seems to care very little about.