They did not start out this way. They did not start out as a well-oiled machine. They started out as an absolute train wreck. Maybe worse.

Teams don't start out by one member threatening to kill the other over a magical marble. Or with the other member activating a spell that forces the other one to eat dirt. Literally and with great force. And usually repeatedly, depending on what he has done. Neither of them really enjoyed that, even though he thought she did. Sometimes she did, but only for a little bit. Then she would feel sorry for harming him and dragging him through the mud, literally. Not that she would tell him that. Just like he would never tell her how much he actually felt sorry for the ones he earned.

Good teams are supposed to have comradery and loyalty and communication and trust.

Things between them were often tense. And if they weren't tense they were frosty. But when they weren't tense they were friendly, with a low fire that warmed their hearts.

They often questioned each other's loyalty. He questioned her loyalty to the mission every time she begged to go home. She questioned his loyalty every time her reincarnation's shinidamachu came to collect him. He could only yell and scream at her when she left for home. He yelled at her that she didn't care about their quest, about fixing her mistake. She only sat him and told him when she would be back as she jumped over the rim of the well and disappeared to her era. She could only treat him with absolute silence whenever he came back from his rendezvous with the undead miko. Neither could possibly voice the secret fear: "when will she wise up and leave me for someone safe? Someone who can tell she means to him?" or "when will he finally leave me for her? She's better than me in every way. And he's in love with her. When will he realize that I'm nothing more than a liability and poor stand-in for his true love?"

They best communicated in arguments and insults. Sometimes they meant them and then they truly, bitterly, and violently went at it, fighting and yelling for all they were worth. Other times there was no venom or heat to their words. Their taunts were teasing and the insults had no bite. Sometimes it was effective. Other times, they couldn't figure out what the other one was saying. Or her strange, foreign words would confuse him. Or his mannerisms would insult her. She couldn't get him to talk but he always listened. And she always tried to read what he was trying to say. And they would figure it out. Slowly and surely, they navigated through their arguments and misunderstandings to the truth.

But there is one thing they did have in abundance. They didn't start out with it, with the threatening to kill and the sits and the secrets and the lovers coming back from the dead and the other male suitors constantly pursuing her. But they trusted each other implicitly with their lives and, slowly and begrudgingly and completely and absolutely secretly, with their hearts. She always, always trusted that he would save her. It didn't matter what era she was in or how far away from each other they were. He would always find her when she was in trouble. And he absolutely, although sometimes with a few barbs and insults to her uselessness and inability to stay safe for more than ten minutes, always saved her. He never once let her down. And of course, he trusted her to watch his back in battle. He trusted her to sit him to make him duck. He trusted her to shoot an enemy to take it down, hinder it, or distract him for a second to give him an opening. He trusted that she would always bandage him up after battle. No matter how small the injury, she was always there with her cleaning and bandaging supplies ready to patch up the injuries he got while protecting her. He never needed them, he healed too quickly. But he knew that she needed to make sure he was okay. He whined and complained every time. But he let her do what she needed to do to make sure they were both okay. And if he felt better by being able to see her and smell her and make sure she really was safe from the danger this round? Well, she didn't need to know that. He trusted her to protect him from others too. He had dealt with horrible, ignorant peasants and lords and demons everywhere he went. But the minute anyone looked down on him. She was there. She held his hand. She glared. She proved to everyone again and again that he was worth everything that they were and more. She stated repeatedly how strong and brave and smart and wonderful he was. How they should learn to open their minds to something other than what they know and their hearts to something other than themselves. He never acknowledged her declarations. He just stared off into the distance, his ears twitching with the emotion and anxiety he couldn't express. He trusted her to pick up the pieces of his broken heart, even if it broke hers. They trusted each other to always save the other, in the ways only they could.

They weren't an ideal team. But they were pretty damn effective. They knew how to tell every change in the other's mood and demeanour. They usually knew what caused it and how to fix it. And if they didn't they knew how to almost talk about it without talking about it. And they make each other feel better. But in battle they were flawless. She would direct his strikes and he would block the hits aimed at her. When she fought from his back she would shoot, usually covered in his fire rat robe, while he moved and fought with all his usual vigor. They were fierce together. And the few times he turned demon, she was always there with a sit or Tessaiga or both to bring him back to her. They were a team, forever and always.