Living on a desert planet wasn’t easy. Everyone knew this, but everyone complained about it. With the source of water scarce, and the amount of greedy people that would try to hoard the elixir high, life was rough for just about anyone that had found their existence on the pathetic excuse of a planet.

Both of them were aware of this. Both of them enjoyed their own complaints from time to time. After all, their initial meeting had been based on the disagreeable climate. The Typhoon had happened to be on that bus when the priest was busy dying in the middle of the desert, and somehow the outlaw’s good eyesight had been enough to catch the glint off of that monstrous cross. Thus it had begun—the two hadn’t been separated much since then.

This one day in particular had been absolutely scorching. Perhaps neither of them had much of a right to complain, considering the way they overdressed—one with the red coat and the other with the blue-black suit. “At least I have an excuse,” he would say. “I’m a priest! I have to wear this!”

They had trudged through the day, whining to each other all the while. (“You don’t have to carry a huge cross like I do, Tongari!” “How about this huge pack I have, you sleazy priest?”) Eventually they had reached a small town, otherwise known as salvation. They managed to find the spare bits of water scattered around the small bar and inn where they had found their lodgings for the night.

Presently they were seated on the steps in front of the inn, glancing up at the sky. Stars were dotted here and there, but the most prominent thing was the moon, which seemed to have an almost red tint to it.

“I can’t believe it’s still hot, even though it’s nighttime,” the priest grumbled. “It’s supposed to get cold at night in the desert…”

“Not always,” the red-clad one replied wistfully. “Though I must admit, I didn’t know that moonlight could burn…” He trailed into silence, head propped up in his hands as he continued to examine the sky’s canvas.

“Hey…” the other began cautiously. “Don’t get pensive on me so suddenly.”

The blonde laughed lightly. “Someone once asked me if I had ever seen a red moon. When I told them I hadn’t, they told me that when the moon turned red, it meant that it was grieving for the shabby conditions on this planet. I can’t help but think that it’s predicting what will happen, and with Knives’ reappearance…”

“Tongari!” the dark-haired man exclaimed loudly. “I told you not to get pensive!”

He just got a wink as a reply.

“I mean it,” the priest prodded, looking a little disgruntled. “You of all people should know that there’s no sense in worrying.”

“I guess I can’t help but worry myself sometimes. With Knives, it’s more killing, more death, and more blood. It’s never enough for him. He’d like to kill everyone but me and some others, and he’ll go to all lengths to do it. I’m not sure if I have it in me to stop him—and I can’t kill him.”

The priest crossed his arms over his slightly open suit importantly. “Whatever happens happens, right? I don’t mean to say that you should put on that fake smile like you do all the time, but I happen to know that digging yourself into a hole isn’t going to help matters.” With that, he slung an arm around the red-coated man with a goofy grin on his face.

The outlaw gave him a smile—a real one. This seemed to impress the priest. The fact that he had directly caused the display of such a rare smile was a nice feeling, and he couldn’t resist affectionately running his hand through spiky hair.