Weapons Check WIP
When Garou emerged from the shower, Bad was sitting on the wooden floor of his bedroom doing his daily maintenance on his signature weapon, the metal bat that he carried everywhere with him.
Garou stood in the doorway, rubbing his wet hair vigorously with the towel draped over his shoulders while he curiously watched Bad meticulously check over the surface of the bat, squinting as he ran his fingers over the smooth nick-free surface. Once done, he moved on to the handle of the bat, checking the leather wrappings around it.
"What are you doing?” Garou asked as he lounged against the old wooden doorframe lazily. folding his arms over his bare chest. Bad looked up at him, one brow raised in challenge. “Checking my bat. What do yer think I’m doing?”
Garou sneered at Bad as he crossed the room to throw himself down on Bad’s futon, pulling the towel up to drape over his head. He said nothing, lounging on his stomach and began to whistle a soft soft tune as he watched Bad take out a metal polishing cloth and proceed to run the cloth over the bat inch by inch. He had discovered that sometimes, if he did nothing but simply waited patiently, Bad would eventually tell him a little bit of what he was doing and why.
“It seems damn silly I know,” Bad started up hesitantly after awhile, carefully not looking at Garou as the tips of his ears turned pink as they usually did when he was embarassed about sharing something so personal. “Considering this thing can’t break. But it’s an old habit I can’t seem to shake.”
Garou hums to let Bad know he heard before laying his head down atop his crossed arms as he kicks his feet in the air. He could have said “We do it with our weapons in martial arts too,” or any number of things but he doesn’t. Bad is sharing something personal about his past that he doesn’t often do and so Garou just listens, his eyes on Bad as he grunted in agreement.
The S-Class Hero sighs and leans his head back against the wall as he stares upward at the ceiling. He swallows hard, as though what he is about to share is somewhat painful. Garou has stopped kicking his feet now. There is a small silence before Bad continues. “Back then.. I hadn't even become C-class yet. I wez juz some Troublemaker who played alot of baseball and got into one too many fistfights."
Bad looked down at the cloth in his hand, fingers flexing before closing his fingers around it. Garou pushed himself into a sitting position and reached out for his secret stash of calming tea that he brews and bottles whenever he has a nightmare. He uncaps the thermos and pours out a cup before extending it to Bad whose eyebrows climb toward his hairline but snorts and takes it anyway.
Garou folds his legs toward his chest, bending his elbows to rest his arms on his knees as Bad sips from the tea before continuing his story.
"I had a great Senior back then who was an outstanding fighter and feared no one. That bastard was real tough but smart and really knew what he was talkin’ about. He was also the one who taught me to always check my weapons."
Bad picked up his bat and held it at arm's distance from his body, staring thoughtfully at it. "He always said “Yer depend on yer weapon to bail you out of a tight spot. Always check for flaws and damages that could hurt yer fighting chances.” "
Bad folded his arm, moving it closer to his side as he hefted the metal bat in his hand, and shifted it about in his hands, testing. “It became habit - we’s check our weapons to be smooth, so that it wouldn’t catch on anything in a fight. Checked that the grip was good and that it had good balance."
Bad stood up then and jerked his head in the direction of the door. “C’mon. Let’s head out. I wanna swing this bat now.”
Garou leapt nimbly to his feet and followed him as Bad headed out of the bedroom. They passed through the house and out the door into the small backyard where Bad had set up some training equipment.
Bad made his way to the centre of a small clear space, took a stance and started to test his bat, swinging it about carefully, a look of concentration on his face.
Garou stood in the doorway, rubbing his wet hair vigorously with the towel draped over his shoulders while he curiously watched Bad meticulously check over the surface of the bat, squinting as he ran his fingers over the smooth nick-free surface. Once done, he moved on to the handle of the bat, checking the leather wrappings around it.
"What are you doing?” Garou asked as he lounged against the old wooden doorframe lazily. folding his arms over his bare chest. Bad looked up at him, one brow raised in challenge. “Checking my bat. What do yer think I’m doing?”
Garou sneered at Bad as he crossed the room to throw himself down on Bad’s futon, pulling the towel up to drape over his head. He said nothing, lounging on his stomach and began to whistle a soft soft tune as he watched Bad take out a metal polishing cloth and proceed to run the cloth over the bat inch by inch. He had discovered that sometimes, if he did nothing but simply waited patiently, Bad would eventually tell him a little bit of what he was doing and why.
“It seems damn silly I know,” Bad started up hesitantly after awhile, carefully not looking at Garou as the tips of his ears turned pink as they usually did when he was embarassed about sharing something so personal. “Considering this thing can’t break. But it’s an old habit I can’t seem to shake.”
Garou hums to let Bad know he heard before laying his head down atop his crossed arms as he kicks his feet in the air. He could have said “We do it with our weapons in martial arts too,” or any number of things but he doesn’t. Bad is sharing something personal about his past that he doesn’t often do and so Garou just listens, his eyes on Bad as he grunted in agreement.
The S-Class Hero sighs and leans his head back against the wall as he stares upward at the ceiling. He swallows hard, as though what he is about to share is somewhat painful. Garou has stopped kicking his feet now. There is a small silence before Bad continues. “Back then.. I hadn't even become C-class yet. I wez juz some Troublemaker who played alot of baseball and got into one too many fistfights."
Bad looked down at the cloth in his hand, fingers flexing before closing his fingers around it. Garou pushed himself into a sitting position and reached out for his secret stash of calming tea that he brews and bottles whenever he has a nightmare. He uncaps the thermos and pours out a cup before extending it to Bad whose eyebrows climb toward his hairline but snorts and takes it anyway.
Garou folds his legs toward his chest, bending his elbows to rest his arms on his knees as Bad sips from the tea before continuing his story.
"I had a great Senior back then who was an outstanding fighter and feared no one. That bastard was real tough but smart and really knew what he was talkin’ about. He was also the one who taught me to always check my weapons."
Bad picked up his bat and held it at arm's distance from his body, staring thoughtfully at it. "He always said “Yer depend on yer weapon to bail you out of a tight spot. Always check for flaws and damages that could hurt yer fighting chances.” "
Bad folded his arm, moving it closer to his side as he hefted the metal bat in his hand, and shifted it about in his hands, testing. “It became habit - we’s check our weapons to be smooth, so that it wouldn’t catch on anything in a fight. Checked that the grip was good and that it had good balance."
Bad stood up then and jerked his head in the direction of the door. “C’mon. Let’s head out. I wanna swing this bat now.”
Garou leapt nimbly to his feet and followed him as Bad headed out of the bedroom. They passed through the house and out the door into the small backyard where Bad had set up some training equipment.
Bad made his way to the centre of a small clear space, took a stance and started to test his bat, swinging it about carefully, a look of concentration on his face.