content edited as of April 14, 2011; no author's note added, warning untouched.

Warning: Contains a relatively large amount of swearing, particularly because it's from Kurogane's perspective. KuroFai-ish.

It was times like these when he hated having cut off his arm.

It was idiotically difficult to pour a cup of sake with one arm, and the piece of crap that passed itself off as a prosthetic limb was acting up again. With a frustrated sigh, he picked up the bottle and drank deep, finishing it without taking a breath.

And on the subject of crap he put up with because he had only one arm (ah, he could feel the warm alcohol coursing through his veins), he couldn't properly handle a sword. The one he'd acquired recently, still unnamed, rested by his feet next too the empty sake bottle and a small collection of relatively fuller ones. It wasn't as special as Ginryuu or as well-crafted as Souhi, but it worked. It was simply that he couldn't use it to it's fullest potential.

And training. Not that he was out of shape – it was just a necessity to keeping himself in top condition. All sorts of combative skills that he used to be able to do with such prowess were now out of his league

Scowling, he cracked open another bottle and swallowed a fourth of it. No more pouring, he thought to himself, at all. Manners be damned.

"What are you still doing awake, Kuro-sama?"

"I could ask you the same question, mage."

Fai sat beside him, stifling a yawn. "But you don't. May I join you?"

He passed him a bottle, not bothering to point out that if one is going to ask permission, he or she should do it before doing whatever they are asking permission for.

"Help yourself."

"Thanks."

It was times like these when he was thankful for having cut off his arm.