It was a stupid purchase.

A ring – a simple band of tiger's eye inlaid into steel. It looked almost as if it were made of polished heartwood, only richer in color. Thick streaks of gold cut through a rich brown. Barnaby couldn't look at it without thinking of Kotetsu. It was ridiculous, how appropriate any piece of jewelry could be for him.

He had bought it on impulse. It drew his eye as he walked past the jewelry booth in a Gold Stage department store. Three hundred and fifty dollars wasn't all that much for him. He didn't really think about why he purchased the ring, but Kotetsu had invited Barnaby to his family home to celebrate with Christmas with him, ("You can only spend so many holidays alone before you start going crazy, Bunny.") and it didn't take long for Barnaby to decide that the ring would make a great gift for the older man.

Barnaby was happy with the purchase when he had made it. It wasn't until the next day, when Kotetsu greeted him and a bright light glinted off the silver band on his left hand, that Barnaby began to regret it. The tiger's eye ring went from inside his car to under his bed, still stuffed the department store bag it came in. Barnaby sometimes thought of it when he went through the bedroom, but he never went beyond that.

Christmas went by, and the ring remained underneath Barnaby's bed. Barnaby got Kotetsu a vintage record of one of those artists he liked so much instead. Dave Bowie, or something like that. (Barnaby wasn't familiar with much music outside of classical.) It was a better gift than the ring – more useful and with none of those uncomfortable implications Barnaby wished to avoid.

After all, there was no way he could replace Tomoe.

Kotetsu had shown up on his doorstep, as he was wont to do. He insisted that he just discovered a movie that would change Barnaby's life. ("You would never believe it, they actually managed to film the whole thing in under two days!") This was a claim that Barnaby heard on average of once a week, and not once was it proven true, but he was hardly going to turn down a chance to spend time with Kotetsu.

They flipped a coin to decide who would get the chair, and Kotetsu grumbled something about Barnaby's hatred of furniture when he lost. As they cut through the bedroom with snacks from the kitchen, Kotetsu tripped over something (or nothing. It was hard to tell with Kotetsu) and dropped most of the soda bottles he was carrying.

"Kotetsu!" Barnaby instinctively rushed to help the older man. A hand went up to stop him.

"I'm all right. Just help me pick up these bottles."

Barnaby agreed wordlessly, and crouched down. In the corner of his eye, he caught Kotetsu reaching under the bed to grab a stray bottle that rolled under it. It didn't occur to him what he might find there until Kotetsu spoke.

"Huh? What's this."

Barnaby froze as Kotetsu pulled a paper department store bag out from under the bed and dangled it for him to see. "I don't know," he lied. "It's probably just junk."

Not satisfied with that answer, Kotetsu sat on the floor and opened the bag, taking out a small, black jewelry box. "Doesn't look like junk to me," he said after popping the box open. Picking out the the brown and gold ring inside, he inspected it with a smile. "It looks pretty cool, actually."

"Kotetsu, we should get back to picking up these bottles."

"In a second," Kotetsu's attention was lost to the ring. "I wonder what it's made of. It's too cold to be wood."

"It's tiger's eye stone."

Barnaby provided the answer without thinking, and only realized it after Kotetsu turned to him in surprise. "Tiger's eye?" he asked. "That's a pretty weird name for a stone. It's just like my Hero... name..."

The exact point Kotetsu realized the purpose of the ring could be pinpointed to the millisecond. Barnaby bit the inside of his cheek as Kotetsu brought the ring closer to his face. "Bunny, this ring... it isn't for me, is it?"

Silence.

"Bunny?"

Barnaby was hesitant to answer. He knelled down, his lips thinned, and his eyes went to the floor. "It was supposed to be a Christmas present, but I decided it wouldn't be right."

Kotetsu's eyebrows lifted at the statement. "What would make you think that?"

"It'd be strange. People don't really give each other rings unless they... you know, mean something to each other... Look, I don't really know. I'm not really experienced with-"

"Do I?"

Eyebrows rose again – this time they were Barnaby's. "Do you what?"

"You know," Kotetsu said, "Do I... well, do I mean something to you?" His tone was a bit unsure, perhaps still sorting out his own feelings on the issue.

"...Yes, you do." Barnaby's eyes darted from the floor to Kotetsu to gauge his reaction. He saw a flash of something – thinning lips or a smile, he couldn't tell – on Kotetsu's face before the man returned to the ring.

"So, you didn't give me this because it meant exactly what you wanted to tell me?" Kotetsu gave a lopsided frown, turning the tiger's eye band around in his fingers. "I'm not sure I'm getting the logic here, Bunny."

"It wouldn't be right." Barnaby glanced towards Kotetsu's left hand, to the silver ring that had been there long before the two of them had known each other.

A snort. "Well, now you're just being dumb."

"Look, I just decided against it, okay? There was a better gift, and I gave that instead."

"Oh c'mon, This would have been great. Then next year I could get you Bunny slippers, and then we'd match!... er, sorta. We'd have the right theme, anyway."

Whatever warm and fuzzies Kotetsu managed to build over the conversation had disappeared. This conversation was done, Barnaby decided. "Look, you're obviously not taking taking this seriously anymore, so just forget about it." He picked up a soda bottle and bag of popcorn (probably cold by now) before getting up. "Let's watch that thing you brought and forget about this, okay?"

He had only taken half a step towards the door before he heard Kotetsu's voice. "Wait."

Barnaby sighed, but complied. "What is it now?" he asked, turning around.

Kotetsu got up off of the ground, ring still in hand. He glanced to the side and exhaled briefly before he stared straight at Barnaby. "About this ring..." he said, raising the object in question. "I can still wear it, right? – I mean, do you still want me to wear it?"

Barnaby didn't turn to face him. "Do you mean that seriously?"

"Perfectly serious." Kotetsu's voice sounded like he meant it.

"... I can't ask you to do that for me."

"Well, why not?" There was a mix of confusion and annoyance in his tone.

With a turn and a sigh, Barnaby motioned to his left hand with his right. "Your wedding ring."

Kotetsu blinked before he brought up his own left hand, and both men turned their attention to the silver band on it. "You mean this?" Kotetsu asked. "Bunny, I not sure what you..." A sudden burst of clarity came before he finished the sentence. "Oh." His expression briefly became pained. "... You mean... Tomoe, don't you?" It was difficult for Kotetsu to say his late wife's name, though Barnaby could not figure out if it was for sake or because of the older man's own unsorted feelings.

He swallowed, his throat tight. "I can't replace her. I can't ask that from you."

"And that's why you didn't tell me anything." Kotetsu took a few slow steps forward as he pieced together everything. "A guess that makes sense, from a certain perspective." A shrug, then a half smile that started to grow into a full one. "It's completely off mark, though."

Barnaby scowled at the statement. "What do you mean by that?"

"You're making silly assumptions, Bunny. You don't have to replace anyone." Kotetsu lifted his hand – his right hand – to give Barnaby a clear view. Spreading his fingers, he slipped the brown and gold band on and gave a knowing grin. "As it just so happens, your partner's been blessed with two ring fingers."

There was nothing Barnaby could do to keep the smile from creeping across his face.

"So, you're okay with it?" Kotetsu asked.

"You make everything so simple, don't you?"

"I'm taking that as a yes." Kotetsu gave one of those goofy, unguarded grins, and Barnaby felt like nothing in the world could unease him again. "Now let's go watch that movie."

It was a terrible film, even by Kotetsu's lax standards, but he was actually right about it for once.

Hey, look! I did a thing with the painfully obvious symbolism. I feel so clever.

Sternbild's wacky technology levels are going to make me lose it even more than I already have. Kotetsu has a holographic videophone and a BLACK AND WHITE laserdisc of Mr. Legend's exploits in the same room. (Possible? Hypothetically, if you want to believe Apollon Media makes terrible, terrible business decisions.) I mean, you can explain that one Bob Marley record as Kotetsu just having a thing for vinyl, but there's no way to excuse the laserdisc. I expect the next audio drama to reveal that he also owns a betamax tape of Metropolis. In color. And with audible dialogue.

Speaking of which, since the aforementioned Bob Marley album Kotetsu that owns confirms the existence of real-life musical legends of the sixties and seventies, I have absolutely no shame in namedropping David Bowie (albeit inaccurately, as Barnaby probably fails at any sort of music that doesn't include an oversinging soprano). Just be glad I was more subtle about the reference to The Little Shop of Horrors... No, not the 80's musical starring Darth Helmet. The 60s Roger Corman one. My headcanon is that if there's two versions of the same movie, Kotetsu will always like the crappier one. Films he also loves include the 1958 version of The Fly, the 1998 version of Psycho, and far too many Asylum mockbusters to count.