Raizen looked at his blades.
They were still on the ground where he'd left them, half-buried in moss, the black leather of their sheaths darkened even more by hours of contact with damp earth. He looked at them, then at Kenzo, then back at the blades.
"Can I use them?"
Kenzo shrugged, as if asked if his sparring partner could bring a pillow to a knife fight. "Anything that makes you more confident."
Raizen crouched, pulled the twin swords from the moss, and hooked them to his hips. The weight settled against his legs - familiar, grounding. His fingers found the handles without looking, and the grip felt like coming home after a long trip spent fighting with someone else's hands.
He dropped into his stance. Low, weight centred. Blades still sheathed, hands resting on the handles.
He drew Eon for a dash.
