The air in the forge was a physical weight, thick with the scent of oil, smoke, and the metallic tang of steel.
As Draco let his eyes wander, his gaze drifting over Tsubaki with a slow, playful curiosity.
A fresh wave of heat washed over Tsubaki….one entirely unconnected to the dying embers of the hearth.
She felt the unfamiliar prick of embarrassment at the tips of her ears, a sensation she hadn't felt in years.
However, just as quickly as the flush rose, her professional mask slammed back into place.
She arched a singular eyebrow, her gaze sharpening into a challenge.
She projected a cool indifference that didn't quite reach her racing heart.
"Oh? And what, precisely, did you find so 'enlightening' about watching a smith at her work, dragon-boy?" she asked, her voice steady despite the humidity of the room.
"Beyond the obvious fact that I am capable of crafting beautiful things, that is."
Her tone carried a bite, but the playful glint in her eyes betrayed her.
It was the familiar rhythm of their dance….a flirtatious mischief they both indulged in more often than they admitted.
"Enlightening, indeed," Draco countered.
He took a slow, deliberate step toward her, the light of the forge reflected off his scales.
"Few get to witness such passion, such raw dedication. And fewer still get to see the artist so... unreserved."
He let the word linger, a gentle prod at her self-consciousness.
His smile widened into a smirk.
"Though I confess, I prefer my artists with a bit less... clothing when they are truly in their element. It makes the spectacle all the more captivating."
Tsubaki let out a short, incredulous snort…a sharp laugh that crackled like embers.
She rolled her eye, but a genuine smile, albeit a slightly sheepish one, tugged at the corner of her mouth.
'Perverse brat' she thought, shaking her head.
"Jokes aside, why are you here?" Tsubaki asked, breaking the tension.
She gestured loosely toward him with the newly forged blade, careful to keep the lethal edge diverted.
The movement caused her damp sarashi to shift downward, the fabric barely clinging to her skin.
"Well, before we talk business, could you at least put something on?" Draco replied, his gaze darting toward the ceiling as he searched for a neutral spot to rest his eyes.
"Your melons are quite... distracting."
He felt it was rude to stare too much; in their strange, blurred relationship, moderation was one of the few thing keeping things civil.
"Melons?" Tsubaki repeated, blinking in genuine confusion.
She looked around the forge as if expecting a crate of fruit to have appeared out of thin air.
"Oh, you meant these two lumps of meat."
With a casual, blunt pragmatism, she dropped her spare hand to her chest, grabbing one breast and shifting it upward with a nonchalant shrug.
Draco could only nod, momentarily stunned by her total lack of modesty.
"Heh, still a kid, I see," Tsubaki smirked, clearly enjoying the way Draco's composure had finally fractured.
"I am not a kid," Draco snapped back, his voice rising a half-octave.
"I was just being polite."
"Oh my, what a gentleman," Tsubaki teased, her voice dripping with mock adulation.
She reached for her discarded shirt on the floor and pulled it over her shoulder.
"Honestly, I don't know what men see in these things. They just get in the way of my hammer." She complained.
Draco opened his mouth to reply, then thought better of it.
There were very few responses to that statement that wouldn't make him sound like a complete deviant.
So, he opted for a strategic silence.
"Tsk, no fun," Tsubaki muttered, adjusting her collar.
"Anyway, for the third time: why are you here?" she asked, changing the topic.
"Sigh. I just came to hang out for a bit since I was free… but it seems…" Draco trailed off.
Tsubaki wasn't listening anymore.
Her curiosity seemed to have been piqued by something else entirely.
She began to circle him, her eyes narrowed and hungry.
She reached out, poking at the scales on his tail with the tip of her new sword, testing the resistance.
"What exactly are you doing?" Draco asked, shifting uncomfortably as she leaned in close to inspect the grain of his skin.
Tsubaki's eyes held a familiar, predatory spark….the look of a smith who had found a legendary ore.
"No," Draco said immediately, backing toward the door.
"I didn't even say anything yet!" Tsubaki protested, her tone shifting to one of exaggerated disappointment.
"If I asked you to sell your skin to me, would you?" Draco challenged, it wasn't the first time Tsubaki had taken interest in his scales.
Tsubaki didn't hesitate.
She shook her head firmly.
"Well, that is the same sentiment I feel about my scales. Additionally, if you actually managed to forge something incredible with them, imagine the headache I'd have when people realize where the materials came from. I'd be hunted by every blacksmith in the city."
Tsubaki sighed, shoulders dropping.
"I see. What a waste," she replied skeptically.
She wasn't entirely convinced by his logic, but she valued their rapport too much to push….for now.
She tucked her recently crafted sword into a rack and turned to a large wooden barrel in the corner.
"Anyway, since you're free and refusing to provide raw materials, why don't you help me test these instead? I'll pay."
Draco followed her gesture.
The barrel was overflowing with a variety of blades, maces, and spearheads.
"That's a lot," Draco muttered.
He rarely used weapons these days; his claws were more reliable and never required sharpening. He worried his feedback might be too blunt for an artisan of her caliber.
'And I don't think she wants these tested on the upper-floor monsters. I don't have the time for a deep dive today" Draco thought.
"I'm sorry, Tsubaki. I can't do it today or tomorrow. I have prior engagements."
Tsubaki's expression fell, a slight pout touching her lips that looked far too calculated to be genuine.
"You don't need to guilt trip me," Draco said, catching the smirk she was trying to hide behind her hand.
"Tsk. Caught again," Tsubaki said, leaning back against a table.
"So, when? I could go myself, but I'd get better data from the second strongest adventurer in the city."
"Second strongest? Stop teasing me. I'm still just a humble Level 5," Draco replied with a dismissive wave.
Tsubaki snorted.
"Look at this kid. What 'humble' Level 5 can erase an entire district and fells a level seven adventurer? The only reason they call you second is because Ottar. But in terms of sheer…."
"Ahem," Draco interrupted, clearing his throat loudly to steer the conversation away from the topic .
"Anyway, I can help you the day after tomorrow. I have a clear schedule then. We can go as deep as you want." Draco said, jokingly.
Tsubaki's eyes lit up.
"Really?"
Draco nodded.
"I promise."
"Alright then! Thanks in advance." Tsubaki's said as her demeanor suddenly flipped instantly back to that of the busy shop-owner.
She grabbed Draco by the shoulder and began steering him toward the exit.
"Now, get out of my workshop. I have a mountain of work to finish before then, and you're breathing up all my good air."
She shoved him out into the corridor and slammed the heavy oak door shut.
......….
The heavy door of the workshop slammed shut with a resonant thud that echoed through the stone corridor of the Hephaestus Familia compound.
Draco stood in the sudden silence, blinking at the grain of the dark wood, his hand still partially raised as if to continue a sentence that no longer had an audience.
One moment he was the "second strongest" adventurer in Orario, engaged in a playful, borderline-salacious verbal sparring match with the city's most renowned blacksmith; the next, he was essentially a piece of clutter she had decided to sweep out of her workspace.
He stood there for a long beat, the lingering heat of the forge still radiating from his skin.
The smell of coal, hot oil, and the sharp, metallic tang of newly quenched steel clung to his clothes.
He shook his head slowly, a self-deprecating smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Tsubaki's moods were as volatile and intense as the fires she tended, and while he had grown accustomed to her sudden shifts from flirty artisan to drill-sergeant-like focus, the transition never failed to leave him slightly off-balance.
"Women," he muttered under his breath, though there was no real bite to the word.
He turned on his heel, his boots clicking rhythmically against the stone floors as he made his way toward the compound's exit.
Leaving the Hephaestus familia compound was like stepping from a furnace into a gentle breeze. The evening air of Orario was beginning to cool, though the city itself was only just beginning to wake up for its second life.
As the sun dipped lower behind the rim of the city walls, the shadows of Babel tower lengthened, stretching across the circular city like the hand of a sundial.
Draco merged into the flow of the main street.
He moved in a way that made the crowd part naturally around him, even if he wasn't consciously trying to intimidate anyone.
He roamed the streets for a while, his eyes scanning various shops and the passing faces of adventurers returning from the Dungeon.
He saw the fatigue in their eyes, the cracked armor, and the blood-stained clothing.
It served as a grounding reminder of the world he lived in.
To many, he was a figure of awe, hate or envy, the anomaly who had strength beyond his level.
To himself, he was simply Draco, a man trying to navigate the complexities of power and the even more daunting complexities of a social life.
As the sky transitioned from a brilliant orange to a deep, bruised purple, the "Magic Stone" lamps of Orario began to flicker to life.
The city took on a golden glow, the architecture of the various familia manors casting long, majestic silhouettes.
Draco realized he had been walking in circles, his subconscious mind chewing on the events of the following day, an event which felt like both a dream and nightmare.
Tomorrow was his date with Bahamut.
A standard tavern wouldn't do.
Even the most exclusive restaurants in the Entertainment District felt too loud, too vulgar, too... troublesome.
He waited until the first few stars began to prick through the velvet canopy of the sky.
Ensuring he was in a relatively quiet alleyway near the city walls.
With a powerful leap that slightly cracked the cobblestones beneath him, he ascended.
Mid-air, he unfurled his wings, his senses sharpening as the wind rushed to greet him.
He cleared the great walls of Orario in a single, soaring arc.
The city became a glittering jewel behind him, a dense cluster of light and life amidst the dark, rolling expanse of the surrounding wilderness.
Draco flew with a purpose, his eyes adjusted to the low light.
To find the perfect location, he needed to see the world as it would look during the date itself. The ambiance had to be impeccable.