The sun had barely crested the sea when Rowan stepped onto the sparring circle he and Hood had made out behind the dorm. The wind off the cliffs smelled clean, the air crisp. He was in his gym clothes tight black training shorts and a T-shirt.
Hood was already waiting for him.
As always, she was immaculate. Her training outfit was a dove-gray sleeveless blouse and matching slacks, her dark blue hair braided with aristocratic precision. But today, something was off. Her stance too rigid, her tone too sharp.
"You're late," she said.
Rowan blinked. "I'm actually two minutes early..."
"You were told sunrise," she said curtly. "The sun's up. Blades out."
No smile. No warmup banter. Hood drew her practice saber from its sheath. She preferred a dull steel one for practice rather than simply modifying her hardlight constructs. She snapped it into stance with a flourish.
Rowan hesitated. He activated his own weapons and stepped into position. Lightning flickered in his peripheral vision but didn't say a word. Even she could tell something had shifted.
They began.
At first, the rhythm was familiar. Cut, counter, pivot, test. Hood was still graceful, still elegant. But faster and sharper. More aggressive than usual.
Rowan grunted as one strike kissed too close to his ribs. He adjusted his stance, brought his left blade up.
"You're tense," Hood snapped. "Your left wrist is still weak on follow-through."
"Trying not to die will do that to a guy," Rowan shot back, trying to keep it light.
Hood didn't laugh.
She spun low, leg sweeping, and Rowan barely vaulted clear. When he landed, she was already coming down from above, her saber angled for his shoulder. Reflex took over, his hardlight shield snapped into place just as the blade cracked against it.
The blow rang out like a gunshot.
Rowan staggered back, breath caught in his chest. That hadn't been a sparring strike. That was the kind of move that broke collarbones.
Hood froze. Then, slowly, she straightened.
"…Session concluded," she said. Her voice was quiet. She sheathed her practice saber and stepped back.
Rowan didn't move. "Hood?"
She didn't meet his eyes.
"I apologize. That wasn't training. That was irritation. And it wasn't fair to you."
The wind tugged gently at her braid. Her posture remained perfect, but her expression was clouded. She reached the edge of the circle and pulled on her greatcoat and hat.
"You didn't do anything wrong," she added. "I hope you can forgive me."
Rowan blinked, slowly lowering his weapons. "Of course I do. But, seriously, no foolin' around, are you okay?"
She nodded once. Too quickly. "I will be."
Then she turned away. The session was over.
Rowan powered down his blades and stepped forward, closing the space between them.
"Hood, hold up."
She stopped, but didn't turn. Her back was straight, arms folded behind her like a statue posted at some invisible gate.
"You can't just walk off after that," he said, softer now. "Not with that look on your face. You're my friend."
That word—friend—seemed to ripple through her spine. Slowly, she exhaled.
"I can't talk about it," she said, voice a touch too high, too fast.
He tilted his head. "No?"
She turned just enough for him to see her expression, and for once it wasn't elegant. Her cheeks puffed out in sheer frustration, lips pursed like a sulking child. It was such an unladylike, normal reaction that Rowan blinked in disbelief.
Then he laughed. Not mocking her but caught off guard completely.
"Ohhh my god," he grinned. "You so can't talk about it."
"Shut up," she muttered, turning her face away entirely. "I'm being very serious, Rowan."
He stepped beside her now, not quite touching but close. "I know. And I'm not trying to push too hard. But you're off today. Something got under your skin, and if you're hurting... I'd like to help."
She was silent for a long beat.
Then: "You'd just laugh."
"I literally just laughed because you made a squishy face, not at your problems."
"So, you laughed at my face?" Hood said rounding on him.
But Rowan stood his ground. "Yes, cause it was squishy and adorable and I regret nothing."
They stood in silence. The wind blew steady. Far below, waves crashed softly against the cliffs.
A strand of loose blue hair swept across Hood's face and, without conscious thought, Rowan tucked the hair behind Hood's ear for her. "C'mon. Talk to me. I'm not gonna judge. And I sure as hell don't scare easy!" He rubbed his thumb over the little silver anchor on her cheek. "You stabbed me and I still think you're awesome. So, c'mon talk to me..."
Hood closed her eyes and leaned her face into his palm.
Then, slowly, she said, "…It's infuriating."
"What is?" He asked taking his hand away slowly.
"That she beat me to it." Hood said with a sigh. She missed the warmth of his hand already.
Rowan blinked, confused. "Who?"
Hood opened her eyes again. They gleamed, sharp and red.
"Bismarck. I saw her with your shirt."
"Oh, that," Rowan said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, caught me off guard too. She showed up in the middle of the night demanding a shirt. What was I supposed to do? Say no? A friend asks for help, ya help 'em. What my dad always said."
Hood gave a dramatic sigh, arms still crossed. "True, I suppose… but I still don't like it."
She glanced sideways at him.
"In fact," she said, lifting her chin, "I think you should make it up to me."
Rowan's eyes widened, then he gave an exaggerated, sweeping bow.
Lightning giggled inside his head, 'She's gonna love this, you big nerd...'
'I hope so...' Rowan thought, then out loud...
"Tell me how, milady, and I shall throw myself upon the nearest quest."
That earned him a laugh, clear and surprised. Hood covered her mouth, but the smile stayed in her eyes. Rowan straightened, grinning.
"There she is," he said softly. "Now seriously, how can I make it up to you?"
"You can accompany me on an excursion this Sunday."
"Excursion?" His brow lifted, suspicious. "What kind of excursion?"
"Oh, nothing major," she said, far too innocent. "There's simply a play I'd like to see. And I would enjoy your company."
Rowan leaned in a little. "What kind of play?"
She gave him a look so calm it had to be dangerous. "The Pirates of Penzance. Have you ever seen it?"
His brain sputtered.
"…Are you asking me to take you out to a musical?"
Hood's smile grew. "Yes, frankly. I am."
He was nearly vibrating with excitement. "Yeah, sure! I love musicals!"
That caught Hood slightly off guard. "You do? Truly? I have often found that men find them annoying."
"Not this guy. My favorite is probably *Annie Get Your Gun!*" He replied with a grin. "I mean, I even wanted to animate one a while back." He rubbed the back of his neck, the grin falling from confident to sheepish. "Didn't get far. It was way too big a project for one guy."
Hood blinked. "You tried to animate an entire musical?"
"Oh yea... terrible mistake."
"If you don't mind my asking, which one?" Hood asked as they began walking back to the dorms, the tension falling away as if it had never existed.
"Les Misérables," he said, voice flat with the weight of his own regret.
There was a long pause.
"…Dear God." Hood said, her voice shuddering with mock horror.
"Right? Total disaster." He laughed at himself. "I had this idea to anime-ify the barricade scenes with, like, sakuga explosions and dramatic weather effects. Gavroche had glowing eyes for no reason." He sighed, dejected. "It was so stupid. Though the final scene, with the bridge... That one was good enough that I put it up on YouTube! Did pretty well actually!"
Hood stared at him, then burst out laughing.
"You are utterly unhinged," she said, her tone full of admiration and disbelief.
"I contain multitudes," Rowan replied, deadpan. "Not all of them are great."
Hood's laughter softened, and for a moment, something almost shy passed across her face.
"I've… been fascinated by anime culture for years," she said, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "But I've never actually seen one. Not properly."
Rowan's eyebrows shot up. "Wait, really?"
She nodded. "It always seemed... juvenile. Or at least that's what I was told. But you talk about it with such passion. I suppose I'm curious."
She looked down, then added quickly, "If you were to recommend something to someone who's never watched one before… what would you choose?"
Rowan lit up like a bonfire. "Oh man. I love this question!"
Rowan's eyes sparkled. He might not know much about fleet tactics or hardlight combat yet but this? This was his wheelhouse!
Rowan dropped to a knee with a dramatic flourish, one hand producing a pen and notepad. They just appeared, like Rowan was the love child of a stage magician and a court scribe. "Alright, milady, hit me! Interests! Tropes! Vibes! Let's build your starter kit."
Hood tilted her head, puzzled. "You're taking notes?"
"Of course I'm taking notes!" He said rising to walk beside her again. "This is sacred ground. I gotta tailor the experience."
She blinked, then gave a reluctant smile. "Well… I like naval history. That's an easy one."
"Check," Rowan said, jotting it down.
"Stories about honor and duty. Tragic ones are fine, if the ending is satisfying in spite of the tragedy."
"Check and check," he said, tongue between his teeth as he scribbled. "What about romance?"
"A touch is fine. I'm not looking for fanservice," she added quickly.
"Good news," Rowan said. "You're talking to the captain of the S.S. Tasteful Romance. What about pacing? Fast and loud or slow and emotional?"
"I… think I'd like to feel something," Hood said quietly. "But I don't mind a battle or two along the way."
Rowan stopped writing, looked up at her, and softened. "Got it."
He flipped the notebook shut, then grinned. "Alright. Based on everything you said, I've got it narrowed down to two that I think you'll absolutely love."
Hood raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Let's hear them."
Rowan held up two fingers. "First one's a classic: The Big O."
Hood blinked. "That's… an odd name." She blinked making a connection that Rowan certainly did not intend. "I hope that this isn't something perverse..."
"I know it sounds weird but it's a 'don't judge a book by the cover' sort of thing." Rowan said gesticulating wildly! "It's fantastic, I swear! Imagine Casablanca with skyscraper sized mechs and monsters. Noir setting. Giant robots. A protagonist who's more focused on being a detective than a pilot. And everything's soaked in mystery and memory loss and identity."
He grew serious for a moment. "It's not flashy. It's thoughtful. Slow burn. Gorgeous music. Every fight feels earned. I think you'll like Roger... he's calm, classy, and deeply principled. Like you."
Hood blinked again, as if startled to find herself compared to a fictional man.
"And the other?" she asked.
Rowan's grin faded to something warmer, almost... hurt. "Violet Evergarden."
For the first time Lightning chimed in, manifesting fully and walking beside the two of them. "Oh no... Cap. Not that one... It's beautiful. You can't do that to a newbie..."
The words floated between the two of them like they spoke of something sacred and Hood was struck by how seriously they treated the mere mention of the title.
Rowan looked at the ground as he talked and Hood watched him closely. The smile on his face was fascinating as he spoke. "It's... about a soldier. A girl who was raised to fight, but doesn't know how to feel. After the war, she becomes a letter writer. You like Austen, right? She'd for right in with one of those types. She becomes one of those people who helps others put their emotions into words. And through their stories, she slowly learns what love really means."
He glanced at her, voice softer. "It's like Lightning said... beautiful. Painful, sometimes. But... honest with itself. It shows PTSD in all its horrors and what someone might have to do to overcome it. It hurts in the best way."
Lightning just nodded and little blue tears streamed down her digital face. "Yea... That's the best way to put it, Cap." The tears dispersed into shimmering clouds of digital vapor and drifted away on the sea breeze. She herself followed soon after, her timer expired.
Hood didn't respond right away. She looked out at the sea instead, the wind tugging gently at her braid.
Then: "That sounds... like something I should see."
Rowan smiled. "Then I'll queue it up. After Pirates of Penzance, we're making popcorn and binging episode one. Deal? But uhh... bring tissues for either one."
She looked back at him. Big words... She would be the judge of that.
"We have an accord then." She said with a smile.
The two of them parted ways at Rowan's door and Hood didn't even reach hers before Rowan ran up to her. "Hey, I forgot something. Can you tell Bismarck that we aren't meeting at the ferry dock? That she needs to meet me down by the Shoals at 1830 instead?"
Hood blinked, and tilted her head in confusion. "Of course, Master Takeda. But... Why the change in plan?"
"Because," Rowan said with a grin. "I have a surprise for her."