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“Ryuko! Are you talking to your uniform again?”
Mako's voice rang out, amused and cheerful. Ryuko coloured, despite herself.
“N-No!” She called back, “just getting ready for bed, talking to myself!”
“Kaaaay!” Came Mako's shout from the other side of the sliding door, unnecessarily loud.
Ryuko huffed and did up the last button on her borrowed pyjamas.
“You know,” she muttered, “this family might not think I was a basket case if I just stopped talking to you.”
Senketsu twitched fretfully on his hanger.
“That's unkind, Ryuko, you're the only one who can hear me,” he said, and she snorted.
“I'm just saying they might.” She rolled gracelessly onto the pile of blankets she slept on.
Senketsu appeared to be thinking.
“If you are really concerned, I will make an effort not to engage you in conversati-”
A pillow bounced off the wardrobe door, making him jump and his hanger rattle.
“Shut up,” Ryuko said irritably, “I wasn't serious. It was a joke, damnit.”
She rolled onto her back and groaned.
“Urrgh, I want that pillow back. This is clearly all your fault.”
She shuffled out of her bed. He didn't reply.
She snagged her pillow from where it had fallen and paused, looking up at him.
“You asleep?”
His eye flicked open.
“I don't really sleep.” He said.
“Yeah yeah, whatever it is you do then.” She grumbled, hugging the pillow to herself unconsciously.
He was silent, and then: “I'm not asl-”
“OK! God, I get it.”
They were both quiet for a moment, Ryuko because she was thinking and Senketsu, she suspected, because he was waiting.
“Do you... like helping me?” She asked eventually, her voice low and full of the promise of violence if he teased her.
“It's what I was created to do,” he replied promptly, and she bit her lip. She'd expected that response.
“And if it wasn't?”
“I don't understand.”
“Well, just-” she waved a hand vaguely, “if you were another Kamui, like Junketsu, or one not made for anyone in particular, would you still... want to help me fight?”
There was a pause.
“I'm not sure how to answer,” he said, and she could hear the note of frustration in his voice. Like he really wanted to reply to her question, but was simply unable to do so.
“Never mind,” she said curtly, crawling back towards her bed. “It was a dumb thought anyway. What does it matter?”
“It does matter,” his voice replied, straight into her brain, “please let me think about it a bit more.”
“Hey, you don't sleep, right?” She murmured, squirming slightly to get comfortable, “so tell me in the morning?”
“I will,” he said, in an oddly earnest tone.
“Kay,” she muttered, drifting off to sleep.
*
Apart from greeting each other good morning, Senketsu did not speak to Ryuko again until they were alone, walking between classes at school. No one appeared overly keen to jump her today, but that didn't mean she wasn't on her guard. Hours passing without Senketsu speaking wasn't unheard of, although it was becoming rarer the more time they spent together. She wondered if he was asleep, or whatever, again.
“I've finished thinking about it,” he said suddenly, making her jump slightly. She glanced around then sank onto a nearby bench, brushing at his skirt idly.
“I almost forgot you were doing that,” she laughed, “I thought you were asleep, or cranky.”
To her amazement, he squeezed his blouse tighter around her chest, making her squeak.
“H-Hey! What are you doing!?”
“You were making fun of me,” he said primly.
“Well yeah, but I didn't know you could do that when you aren't synched with me!”
“Do what?” His voice was amused.
“That – weird tightening thing!”
“Oh, this?”
This time, the constriction ran swiftly down the skirt, disappearing as quickly as it came. She swatted at him.
He laughed, a sound she didn't hear very often. She flicked at his straps in retaliation.
“Cut it out,” she huffed, although she felt oddly giggly.
“Very well,” he said, “I spent a lot of time last night considering your questions. I still cannot answer all of them. But I do enjoy fighting alongside you, Ryuko.”
“Cos you like blood and I'm particularly delicious?” She teased drily.
“You are exceptionally delicious.” He said, his voice low. To her horror, she felt her face warming up.
“Shut up,” she snapped, trying and failing to poke him in the eye.
“You did ask.”
“Whatever.”
“I cannot answer about how I would think, were I someone else,” he continued, slightly unsteadily, “but I think... no, I know that I am very glad it's you that I belong to, as opposed to anyone else.”
“You don't belong to me, geez,” she snapped. “You're a person. You don't belong to anyone. I haven't thought of you as clothes for ages. You shouldn't either.”
She fiddled with his sleeves, pulling them over her hands and flexing her fingers wide.
She brought her hands up to her face, still inside his sleeves, and pressed one to each side of her head, sliding them back so she could lace her fingers behind her neck.
For a while, neither of them spoke. Ryuko had completely lost track of which class she had been walking to.
“Are we... friends?” She asked eventually.
“I don't know.” He replied, and she growled a little in irritation. “I've never had a friend before.”
“Heh, well me neither, for the most part,” she said, frankly.
“Would you class me as a friend?” He asked, and she was sure his voice sounded... anxious?
“Well, you annoy the shit out of me,” she said blandly, causing him to shudder in horror, “and you talk too much and make the Mankanshokus think I'm a head case. And you tease me about my weight, and you scold me. And about a million other things I can't think of right now but I'll remember them as soon as you do them next.”
He didn't say anything, but out of the corner of her eye she saw his good eye look away.
“But,” she said, standing, “you're my best friend, so I'll have to deal with that other stuff as we go along.”
Senketsu's stunned silence made her grin, and she practically skipped the next few steps, feeling light and happy.
“Ryuko,” he said, after a minute or so, his voice shaky and emotional, “I do not know what to say.”
“And yet, that never seems to stop you.” She retorted.
He spluttered and squeezed tight for a second around her waist, making her gasp. OK, maybe she should be concerned about how much she seemed to like that.
“I will remember that this is a good way of getting you to take me seriously,” he grumbled.
She laughed, suddenly cheerful.
“Oh, nothing could do that,” she said, “I'm wearing my best friend, I can't take this shit too seriously or I'll lose my freaking mind.”
“Perhaps you're right,” he chuckled, and squeezed her again, not sharply as if to admonish her, but gently, in a wave that ran from her shoulders to her thighs. She shivered slightly.
“I like it when you do that,” she admitted quietly.
“I see,” he said, his voice low and pleased. “Well then, I will remember that too.”