Sarkiin spent nearly five hours skimming their favorite comics, novels, and movie scenes for their best one-liners before returning to their room with a feeling of assurance in their impeccable taste in media. Still no idea what they’d say in the big moment though. They stretched loudly before flopping onto their bed.
They’d been toying with the idea of a nap, and were just getting comfortable, when they noticed the faintest movement in the pile of laundry in the corner. Torn between excitement at another one of these nights and embarrassment at the size of the laundry pile, Sarkiin pretended not to notice as they made their way over the desk opposite their bed. They sat down and reached for the sai they'd hidden behind a stack of books.
The moment after their hand met the handle, they heard the sound of cloth flying, then everything was a blur of motion and a chorus of metal. Sarkiin managed to catch Saryam's wrist between the prongs of their sai, her straight sword's blade glinting little more than a finger's width from Sarkiin’s face. They loved these nights.
"You're getting sloppy, Sharky," Sarkiin was not a fan of the nickname at first, but it had grown on them over the last few years. "I almost got you this time."
"In your dreams! I was testing my reflexes by letting you get as close as possible."
"You actually expect me to believe that?"
"Yes, for sure, that is the truth."
"So be it. Your disrespect and lack of integrity have earned you swift passage into hell!" Saryam wrenched her arm free with a twist, shifted her weight on her back foot, then lunged forward stabbing straight for Sarkiin's chest.
Sarkiin wheeled their chair to the left, swiveling to face this unworthy combatant. With a deft motion of their right hand, they flipped their sai to grip it by its main prong. Sarkiin stood and used one of the smaller prongs to catch Saryam by the sleeve of her sweater, then embedded the tip nearly an inch into the surface of the desk. Damn, the repairs always sucked. But they were worth the fun of a good surprise round. With Saryam caught off balance, Sarkiin twisted her free arm behind her back and prodded the prong of their other sai to Saryam’s neck.
“If anything’s sloppy in here, it’s your lines.” Second to their impromptu sparring rounds, Sarkiin’s and Saryam’s favorite activity was to try to best the other’s one-liners. What started as a joke, mocking their favorite action heroes, rapidly evolved into a genuine competition. “You should be sorry for quoting Gideon Graves, of all people. I might let you keep your tongue if you apologize before I take it.”
“The only thing you’re taking today,” Saryam grunted as she freed her sword arm with a twist. “Is this L!” Saryam turned to face Sarkiin, driving the pommel of her sword up into their sternum. Sarkiin let out a pained noise that could’ve been a dry heave or a grunt and Saryam tripped them as they stumbled backwards. "And I was paraphrasing."
Sarkiin caught themself as the ground rose to meet their back. They shifted and rolled into a backwards somersault then vaulted onto their feet, just evading a slash from Saryam’s sword.
"Okay, that one was better. Almost funny." Sarkiin threw their remaining sai and it spun right at Saryam's face. Saryam pivoted to dodge, falling for the distraction. And allowing for a new hole in the wall. "But not as funny as your face will look," Sarkiin leapt into the air toward their opponent. "With my footprint on it!" they shouted as they twisted into an aerial roundhouse kick.
Sarkiin's kick was too quick to dodge. Saryam threw her arms up to block it, taking the kick full force. Her sword clattered on the floor as she slid a few feet backward. Sarkiin might have been getting a little too enthusiastic. They dove for the lost blade and turned on one knee, thrusting the blade up toward Saryam's neck. "Lose something?"
Saryam made and an attempt to retrieve the sword by kicking at Sarkiin’s arms and said, “You’re obsessed with cutting throats lately and I’m concerned.”
"You can have it back when you yield," Sarkiin teased, dodging the kick and repositioning the blade at their sister’s throat. "And I'm concerned about how unprotected your throat is."
"Come ooooooonnnnn, Sharky," Saryam whined. "Why are you always such a sore winner?"
“I’m just sore in general, to be honest. Been holding too much tension in my shoulders.” She may have been more of a sharpshooter, but Sarkiin knew how much she loved this sword. Which made it that much more fun to play keepaway.
“Ugh! You have got to be- Fine. You win. I lose. Now-”
“You yield.”
“I yield. Now chill. I need a favor.”
“Normally winners get to make demands, but I’ll make an exception because I love you.” Sarkiin was a little worried by the sudden turn in Saryam’s demeanor. She was normally pretty cool-headed, but there was an intensity here that they weren’t used to. “What can I do for you?”
“Tell me about our family again. Please.”
There weren’t enough breaths in the world to steady their touched little heart. With a soft chuckle they said, “I can certainly oblige.”