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Rating:
Teen And Up Audiences
Archive Warning:
Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Category:
F/M
Fandoms:
BlazBlue Series (Video Games)Re:ゼロから始める異世界生活 | Re:Zero Starting Life in Another World (Anime)
Relationships:
Ragna the Bloodedge (BlazBlue) & Natsuki SubaruNatsuki Subaru/RemEmilia/Natsuki Subaru
Characters:
Ragna the Bloodedge (BlazBlue)Natsuki SubaruEmilia (Re:Zero)Elsa GranhiertWilhelm van AstreaCrusch KarstenPriscilla BarielleFelt (Re:Zero)Anastasia HoshinMimi PearlbatonRem (Re:Zero)Ram (Re:Zero)Roswaal L MathersMeili PortrouteCapella Emerada LugnicaOtto Suwen
Additional Tags:
Game: BlazBlue: Central FictionPost-Game(s)Alternate UniverseCross-Posted on FanFiction.NetIsekai and TransmigrationCrossoverCanon-Typical Violence
Language:
English
Stats:
Published:2025-05-08Updated:2026-07-29Words:159,533Chapters:34/?Comments:308Kudos:523Bookmarks:111Hits:32,887
Re:Azure
Genthar
Chapter 6: Invitation
Notes:
Here's the true beginning of arc 2.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The sound of carriage wheels faded into the distance, leaving behind only the rustle of wind and the murmurs of the city. Ragna stood still for a moment, watching the trail of dust settle in the orange light of sunset. Subaru, Emilia, and the maid... Ram, was it? They were gone now. Off to some mansion beyond the city's edge. A different story, one Ragna wasn't part of.
And now he was on his own. No one hunting him, and no one to protect. Meaning, he's back to wondering what the hell he'd do with his life now.
He still wanted to fix Aramasa, of course. The damage wasn't holding him back, he'd fought Elsa just fine, but it still bothered him. He wanted his prized sword back in perfect condition.
With a quiet exhale, he turned on his heel and headed toward the market. Not for any grand purpose. Just food. He hadn't eaten anything since the world reset. Not here, not in this loop. And while he was looking for something to fill his stomach, he was also looking to improve it, specifically, the flavor.
He wasn't picky, but even he had limits. Hunting down meat and grilling it over a campfire was fine when you were moving from one Hierarchical Cities to the next. But if he was going to be stuck in this strange world for a while, he could at least make things more varied. The market stalls were already winding down for the day, he had to move quickly.
First stop: spices.
He wasn't the type to pretend spices were magic on their own. Cooking was more than tossing herbs onto meat and calling it a day. But ignoring them entirely? That was a one-way ticket to bland misery.
He asked around, careful not to seem too ignorant. He'd learned quickly from watching Subaru in the first loop that people in this world had different names for even the most basic ingredients. The less he looked like an out-of-touch idiot, the better.
A woman selling herbs at a street corner offered him a tip: "Try the Hoshin Company's goods. The Kararagi spices they sell is a bit pricier, but worth every coin."
"Hoshin?" Ragna repeated, it seems it's a well-known company. Might be useful to learn about it.
"You know, the merchant group from Kararagi," she said. "Always expanding. Big name nowadays."
Ragna gave a nod like he knew exactly what she was talking about. "Right. Of course," in truth, he had no idea what Kararagi was. A city? A country? Rom had mentioned it before, thinking Kagutsuchi was from there, but that hadn't cleared anything up.
Didn't matter. All that mattered was they sold spice.
After asking for directions some more, he finally found the Hoshin stall tucked near the end of the market district, a modest tent lined with colorful cloth and wooden crates full of strange powders and dried herbs. A merchant with a deep tan and a thick accent greeted him with a bow. "Looking for heat or flavor, friend?"
"Both," Ragna replied. "But not too much of either."
The man chuckled. "Ah, a man of balance. I respect that."
Ragna browsed, choosing a few small pouches, nothing exotic, just the essentials. A dried red blend that smelled like paprika, something akin to thyme, and a bold pepper variant he couldn't name. The merchant explained the names, but Ragna barely caught them. They went in one ear and out the other.
Next up: ingredients.
He passed a vendor shouting, "Tatoes! Fresh tatoes!"
'Tatoes...' Ragna thought. Potatoes, probably. There were stacks of round, rooty vegetables that looked like their spud cousins he knew from back home. He picked up a few, examined them, sniffed the earthy skin. Seems good enough.
He moved from stall to stall, picking up greens he couldn't name, firm-looking veggies, and a sack of something the merchant called "caroons", orange and crunchy, so probably this world's version of carrots. Meat could wait. He could hunt later. For now, a decent veggie stew would be enough to keep him going.
Then came the cookware.
He didn't need anything fancy. Just portable gear, light, durable, and simple. A metal pan, a cooking pot, a cooking knife, a hunting knife, a cutting board, a spatula, a ladle, a leather canteen, and a folding stand. Nothing too heavy. He wouldn't be sprinting across the world, being hunted by bounty hunters and the NOL all the time anymore, but he wasn't about to weigh himself down carrying a full kitchen everywhere with him either.
At a small blacksmith stall selling tools and cookware, he found what he needed. The prices were fair. After a short exchange with a bored-looking vendor, he made his purchases.
He also bought himself a new leather backpack to carry everything he'd picked up. It was inexpensive, so might as well, right? Emilia had been surprisingly generous. With what she gave him, he'd been able to afford everything without issue.
He was about to call it a day when something caught his eye.
An old man stood across the stall, inspecting some vegetables in silence. Dressed in a neatly pressed black suit with a high-collared coat, white gloves, and hair so precisely parted it looked sculpted. His posture was flawless. Back straight, hands behind his back.
'A butler...' Ragna guessed. But not just any butler. The way he moved. The way his sharp eyes scanned his surroundings without appearing to. The faint tension in his shoulders, not from nerves, but from discipline.
Ragna had seen that kind of bearing before. A retired fighter. Someone who used to be dangerous. Probably still was, if push came to shove.
He watched for a moment. Not out of suspicion, just curiosity. What was someone like that doing grocery shopping? Then again... Ragna glanced at the backpack he was carrying, full of ingredients and cooking tools. 'Guess I'm not one to talk,' he thought with a dry chuckle.
The man reminded him of someone, Valkenhayn. Rachel's butler. That old coot was dangerous as hell, even if he spent most of his time brewing tea and waiting on his mistress' orders.
The butler picked up a round, red fruit, an appa, and held it up with a contemplative look. He didn't haggle, didn't say a word. Just placed it in his basket, paid the vendor, and moved on without a sound.
Ragna turned away. He'd seen enough. One wrong move and he'd probably make another enemy out of a butler. Valkenhayn had hated him with a passion for reasons he couldn't really understand, better not test his luck.
As he stepped back into the street, the sun was dipping low, painting the city in warm gold. The evening breeze had cooled, the crowds thinning as the market began to close. He slung the backpack over his shoulder, adjusted Aramasa on his waist, and started walking.
Night had fallen. Ragna estimated it was around 7 pm as he walked the nearly empty streets of the city, his boots kicking up small flecks of dust with each step. The crowds had thinned, and lamps flickered to life along the roads, probably lit with magic. Market stalls were shuttering one by one. He moved through it all in silence, one hand gripping the strap of his gear, the other idly toying with the small coin pouch hanging from his belt.
He untied it and thumbed through the coins inside. 'Still got enough left,' he thought. More than enough, really.
He could easily afford an inn, maybe even one with a decent bed. A hot bath wouldn't be bad either. But old habits die hard. He wasn't the kind of man to settle somewhere soft just because he could.
He'd make camp, like always. Somewhere outside the town. Somewhere the stars were visible, and the wind still carried the scent of fresh soil.
He didn't just plan to eat, he planned to experiment. This was a new world. Different meats, and unfamiliar vegetables. Even the spices carried strange, subtle taste. Now that he had time, he might as well use some of it learning how to work with these ingredients. Perfecting his cooking in this world.
Still, he wasn't an idiot. Lighting a fire in the middle of the street was a good way to get arrested. And he sure as hell didn't want to attract a crowd of hungry slum-dwellers thinking he was running a soup kitchen.
Not that he was stingy. He'd shared food before. Treated Tao, and that brat Platinum at some restaurant in Kagutsuchi, and even here in this world, on the first loop, he'd given cooked fish to a starving little girl. He wasn't heartless. But he wasn't out to feed the whole world either. That was the government's job. A line had to be drawn somewhere.
His footsteps slowed. The distant hum of the market faded to a soft murmur. He didn't look over his shoulder. Didn't reach for Aramasa. But he felt it, that faint feeling on the back of his neck, a sign that he was being followed. He stopped for just a second, then kept walking.
'I'm being followed...' he thought. But he doesn't feel any malice or killing intent.
He turned a corner slowly, keeping his pace casual. He walked two blocks, then made another turn, this one into a narrow alley wedged between two shuttered buildings. It was a dead end. No exit. Just shadows and stacked crates.
He waited. Then said, without turning around, "You gonna keep sneaking, or are we doing this the easy way?"
There was a pause. Then a voice, calm, measured, and surprisingly warm. "Well done. Most people wouldn't have noticed."
Ragna turned. The old butler from earlier stepped into the alley. Same black coat. Same white gloves. Same calm, composed gaze.
"I was curious," he said, hands folded neatly behind his back, "if you would notice my presence."
Ragna's expression didn't change. "Well, I noticed."
"That you did." The old man stopped a few feet away, his presence strangely dignified for someone who had just stalked a stranger through narrow alleys. "That sword you carry," he said, gesturing toward Aramasa. "Unusual design. Not something forged by common blacksmiths, even demi-human ones. It looks like the kind of weapon built for someone with exceptional strength. Giants, perhaps?"
Ragna didn't answer right away. He just studied the man's posture. Relaxed, but not open, not careless. This old guy could move if he had to.
"Nah. It's not made for giants," Ragna finally said. "It looks weird because... I'm not from around here."
"I suspected as much," the old man replied. "Your bearing. Your manner. You're... a foreigner."
"Who are you?"
"Wilhelm Trias," he answered. "Currently in service to the Karsten household, as a butler."
"A butler, huh?" Ragna almost smirked. Yeah, sure. 'Is this guy really trying to pass off as "just a butler" to make me lower my guard?'
He thought of Valkenhayn. Rachel's butler. Another dignified old man who could snap a grown man in half if annoyed enough. That one preferred to fight with his fists and claws, though.
In any case, the old man had been polite this whole time, Ragna figured he might as well return the courtesy. "Name's Ragna. No real affiliation in this town."
Wilhelm gave a small nod and stepped forward. "That makes things simpler. You see, I'm recruiting. Quietly, for now. My lady is planning an operation, a campaign to hunt a particular target. A beast," the old man scowled when he mentioned their target.
Ragna's eyes narrowed. "You don't like this beast very much, huh?"
Wilhelm's tone grew colder. Just slightly. "No. I do not," he didn't say more. But the emotion was there, controlled, but sharp as a drawn blade.
"A grudge, then." Ragna concluded.
"A righteous one," Wilhelm replied, offering no further explanation.
Ragna crossed his arms. "You tracked me down just to offer me a job?"
"I don't waste time with the unworthy," Wilhelm said. "But after watching you... I'm interested," he reached into his coat and pulled out two long, thin branches, each about the length of a sword. He tossed one to Ragna. "Spar with me."
Ragna caught it mid-air. The wood was light. Flexible. Not a weapon by any means. But it would do. "You want to test me," he said, more of a statement than a question.
"I want to understand you," Wilhelm corrected. "If you're as skilled as I suspect, then you're worth speaking to. If not... then this was simply an exercise in curiosity."
Ragna twirled the branch once, adjusting his grip. "I'm not used to playing with sticks," that much was true, he's more used to Aramasa's weight.
The old man chuckled. "You'll adjust."
Both stand motionless for a moment, then, without any other words exchanged, they moved.
The alley erupted into motion. Wood cracked. Boots scraped against cobblestones. The makeshift weapons whistled through the air, striking, parrying, feinting. Ragna didn't hold back. Neither did Wilhelm.
Wilhelm was fast. Not just in speed but in precision. Every swing came with surgical intent. Every parry was executed with minimal movement. No flourish. No waste. It was swordsmanship stripped to its essence. Raw, refined, lethal.
But Ragna wasn't caught off guard.
He had trained under Jubei for years, the old Beastkin was one of the Six Heroes and one of the greatest warriors in his world. Wilhelm might have had more decades under his belt, but experience wasn't measured in time alone. It was also measured in adaptability, and in survival.
And Ragna had survived more than most.
In just one hellish year, he had fought all kind of mercenaries, a self-proclaimed ninja, high-ranking NOL officers, engineered weapons, psychopaths, former legendary heroes, and even beings who called themselves gods. And that wasn't even the full list. It had been... one hell of a hectic year.
Their branches clashed again, the crack of impact echoing down the alley. Ragna pressed in, pushing Wilhelm back with a flurry of strikes, each blow calculated, probing for weaknesses.
Wilhelm responded with sharp counter-movements. A deft sidestep. An upward slash that Ragna narrowly ducked. Ragna retaliated with a low sweep, spinning into a follow-up strike. Wilhelm blocked it with a grunt, the wood-on-wood impact ringing out like thunder between the walls.
Ragna could feel it, Wilhelm analyzing his every move, reading each shift of balance, every twitch of muscle.
Wilhelm lunged, thrusting toward Ragna's gut. Ragna spun aside, deflected the blow, and came back with a counter-slash. Wilhelm blocked it cleanly. They stepped back, circling each other with deliberate movements.
Ragna surged forward again, twisting low under Wilhelm's guard just as the old man swung, the strike missed. Ragna flowed through the motion and brought his branch up in a clean upward sweep, tapping lightly against Wilhelm's shoulders.
A clean hit.
Wilhelm froze, then stepped back. His breathing was calm and steady. He glanced down at the point of contact, then met Ragna's gaze. "...Impressive," he said, voice even.
Ragna lowered his makeshift sword. "Same to you."
Wilhelm gave a faint smile. "You've fought many battles. That much is obvious."
"Yeah. It's been a long year."
The old swordsman nodded, eyes gleaming with quiet understanding. "Who trained you?"
Ragna didn't answer at first. Then, with a faint smirk, he answered. "A certain one-eyed cat."
Wilhelm blinked. "A cat demi-human, then?"
'Cat demi-human...' Ragna noted internally. 'So that's a race here. Good to know.'
Wilhelm rubbed his chin. "I've known many warriors in my time. But I can't recall any one-eyed feline swordmasters. Perhaps I missed something."
Ragna didn't comment.
Wilhelm accepted the silence with a nod. "In any case, you passed." He reached into his coat again and handed Ragna a folded note, parchment, sealed with a wax mark. "Should you wish to know more," Wilhelm said, "bring this to the Karsten estate. The details of our campaign are confidential. But I assure you, it's a cause worth fighting for."
Ragna took the note. "Thanks."
Wilhelm nodded his head. "We don't offer charity. Only opportunity. If you accept, you'll be treated with the respect your skills deserve."
Ragna watched as the old man turned and walked calmly out of the alley, back into the bustling city.
He looked at the paper in his hand. "Karsten household..." After a moment, he tucked it away.
Another choice. Another path to take.
The wheels of the carriage rumbled softly over the packed dirt road, rocking gently with each rise and dip in the terrain. The ground dragon pulling them moved with surprising grace despite carrying something so massive, its claws thudding against the earth in a practiced rhythm. The world around them was dark, lit only by the lanterns hanging around the carriage.
Subaru sat beside Emilia, his arms resting on his knees, his eyes drifting between the open plains outside and her. She sat prim and proper, hands folded in her lap, her hair fluttering in the breeze, every bit the elegant half-elf she appeared to be... and yet, somehow still approachable.
At the front of the carriage, Ram held the reins in silence. Her pink hair swayed slightly with each subtle bump in the road.
Subaru's nerves had settled, but not entirely. With the adrenaline now gone, what remained was guilt. He glanced at Emilia.
Emilia noticed immediately. "Is something on your mind, Subaru?"
He sighed. "Yeah, actually... I wanted to apologize."
Emilia blinked. "For what?"
Subaru scratched the back of his neck. "Back at the market, I... I called you by the name 'Satella.' I didn't know it was such a bad thing to say."
Her expression didn't shift much, but he saw the flicker of recognition flash across her face. Just for a second. "Oh... That."
He nodded, wincing. "Yeah... That... Look, I wasn't trying to be a jerk or anything. I honestly thought that was your name."
Her eyes softened. "It's okay, Subaru. I was upset in the moment, but... you saved me. I'm not holding a grudge. Besides, you said you weren't from around here, right? I can't really blame you for not knowing."
Subaru exhaled in relief. "Thanks."
"But..." Emilia tilted her head slightly, leaning in. "Why did you think that was my name to begin with?"
Subaru's heart skipped. He hesitated. "I, uh... someone told me to call you that."
Her eyebrows lifted. "Someone told you? And you reeeally believed them?"
'God, why does she say it like that?' Subaru's brain stalled. "Yeah, really," he answered quickly. "I mean, I don't know who she was. Just this random girl I met, said to call you that, and I... well, I believed her," technically, none of this was a lie.
Emilia studied him for a moment longer, eyes narrowing slightly, searching his face for any sign of a lie. She was clearly curious, maybe even suspicious, but she also saw the sincerity in his eyes, and the unmistakable discomfort, so she let it go. "You're a dunderhead for trusting random girls so easily."
Subaru blinked. "Dunderhead? Seriously? Who even says that anymore?"
Emilia pouted playfully. "I do! It's a perfectly good word!"
He chuckled despite himself. "You really are something else, Emilia."
The carriage continued down the road, the trees thickening around them as they the plains. After a long moment of peaceful silence, Emilia decided to start another conversation. "So... Ragna. He's your friend?" Her tone was casual, but curious, eager to understand how friendships formed.
Subaru looked up, blinking. "Huh? Oh, yeah. I guess so."
"You guess so?" Emilia laughed softly.
"Well, I just met the guy this morning," Subaru said with a smirk. "But I dunno, we just kinda clicked? It was weird. We're both from faraway places, so there was this mutual... understanding, I guess."
Emilia gave him a curious look. "You two already seem like reeeally good friends."
Subaru gave her a look. "You know, when you say it like that, it sounds like you don't believe me."
"I believe you," she replied with a smile. "It's just interesting. Trusting someone that fast... it's not easy for most people."
"True," Subaru said. "But we were in the middle of a life-or-death situation. Bonds form fast when you're trying not to get disemboweled."
Emilia winced. "Ew."
"Sorry. That was too real."
They both laughed lightly, though a part of Subaru's mind still lingered on everything that had happened. The pain, the deaths, the resets. The weight of knowing and not being able to say anything about it.
"Where's your homeland, Subaru?" Emilia asked next, her voice gentle. "You said it was far, right?"
Subaru paused. 'Crap.'
He remembered how, in the first loop, he tried to explain Japan to her. Talked about it being in the far east, but she'd looked at him funny. Turned out Lugunica was already considered the easternmost region in this world. Going "east" from here was basically saying, my country's located off the edge of the map.
He needed a better excuse this time.
"I'm... not actually sure where it would be in relation to Lugunica," he said finally. "The place I'm from isn't listed on your maps."
Emilia blinked. "Is it a secret? Is that why you can't tell me?"
"Yeah, sure. Let's go with that. I'd be severely punished if I revealed it."
They both shared another laugh, the warmth between them settling into something quieter.
Subaru looked at her, really looked. She didn't know. She'd forgotten everything from that first loop. How she'd helped him. How he died. How she died. And yet here she was, smiling, trusting him again. Giving him a place to stay. Offering him comfort after all of it.
He didn't deserve that. But she gave it anyway. And that meant something... Maybe everything.
"Thanks again, Emilia," he said softly. "For trusting me. Even if I'm a bit of a dunderhead sometimes."
She blinked. Then smiled brightly. "I knew you'd come around to my way of speaking!"
Subaru snickered and playfully rolled his eyes. "No one says dunderhead anymore."
They shared another laugh. The carriage rumbled onward toward the Mathers domain. For the first time since he arrived in this world, Subaru allowed himself to relax. Just a little.
The stars blinked overhead, scattered like white dust across a canvas of black velvet. Night had settled deep over the city, and while most of its people had retreated to the warmth of beds and firelight, Ragna the Bloodedge wandered alone.
He kept to the tree line near the outskirts of the capital, a ground dragon stables far behind him, and the lights of the city little more than a shimmer on the horizon. The quiet here suited him better.
In one hand, he held a small leather pouch, one of the things he bought, and now he used it to gather a few curious-looking berries and nuts. The forest edge had some vegetation he recognized. others, not so much. He crouched near a bush bearing bulbous red fruit, one eye narrowed.
"Could be edible," he muttered to himself. "Could also make me puke my guts out."
He picked one and rolled it between his fingers. Its skin was slightly waxy, and it smelled faintly of tart citrus. Not like anything from back home, but he'd learned the hard way not to trust familiar colors.
Pulling out his hunting knife, he sliced off a sliver, and against his better judgment, licked it. Reckless as always. Nothing happened at first. Then a mild burning sensation spread across his tongue. Not unpleasant, but definitely not ideal.
He spat it out.
"Not poison, probably. But definitely not something to eat raw," perhaps when cooked a certain way, it'd be edible.
He sighed and pocketed a few for testing later, boiling or roasting might make them safe. The wind tugged at his red coat as he scanned the small area he'd chosen for the night. A ring of stones enclosed a makeshift fire pit. A low flame flickered there, just enough for cooking, not enough to draw attention.
His pack rested nearby, containing a few ingredients he'd bought earlier from the market: dried spices from Kararagi, some vegetables, and a handful of appas. Most of it he wasn't planning to touch. Not yet. Tonight was about survival. A test. Seeing how well he could manage using only what the wilds provided. A kind of self-imposed training.
His fingers brushed over the spice pouch. After a brief pause, he added just a pinch to the root stew simmering in a small pot. Just enough to see how it blended with the foraged ingredients. The scent wasn't bad. Earthy, faintly peppery. Wouldn't win any awards, but it'd keep him alive.
He sat on a flat stone and tasted it. It was... passable. Maybe needed to cook a little longer.
A gust of cool wind blew past. The quiet wrapped around him again. And then, the thoughts crept in.
"The Karsten household... Wilhelm Trias..." he muttered.
That old man had been polite, formal, but beneath it was the same thing Ragna always recognized in other fighters: purpose. Rage wrapped in discipline. A bit different from himself, who was all rage.
The invitation still sat in his coat pocket, folded and sealed. A note offering something to do. They were planning a hunt. That much was clear. The kind of operation where old warriors came back out of retirement, where nobles pulled favors, where lives were risked.
Wilhelm hadn't said what the target was. Only that it was dangerous. And judging by the man's tone, it was personal.
He sighed.
Accepting meant stepping into the spotlight. Fighting under banners. Beside nobles. In front of people who would remember his name, and his face. People who would talk about his exploits.
Fame... he didn't want it. Never had. Back home, he was already infamous. A criminal to some, a monster to others. The Grim Reaper. He hadn't asked for the title, though he couldn't blame anyone but himself for earning it. It was a curse, not a crown. He didn't want that here, too. Battle junkies would come looking for the Grim Reaper, itching for a fight. And if he used the Azure, even worse things would follow.
He just wanted to survive. Eat. Sleep. Maybe find a reason to keep going now that his only purpose. revenge, was over.
For years, his entire existence had revolved around killing that snake Terumi. That manipulative, twisted bastard. And after all the bloodshed, after all the suffering, he'd done it. He'd won. And you know what? It wasn't empty.
People loved to say revenge never solved anything. That it left you hollow. Ragna had heard it a hundred times.
Bullshit.
He'd felt closure. It didn't fix the crappy state of the world. Didn't bring back anyone he lost. But it gave him peace. It meant he could finally stop his unhealthy obsession.
So when Wilhelm looked him in the eye and spoke with that same buried hatred, the kind that only came from loss, Ragna understood. That old man didn't just want justice. He wanted vengeance. Maybe both. And he was gathering the strongest people he could find to make it happen. Probably didn't even care who landed the final blow, just that it was done.
It didn't feel like a ploy. It felt honest. It's something he could sympathize with.
He poked at the fire with a stick, stirring the embers. The stew was nearly finished.
The night deepened. The wind whistled through the trees.
'I guess I'll go,' he decided silently. 'At least to hear what they're planning.'
He wasn't committing yet. But if there was something in this world that needed killing, and it was hurting people, he could do that much. Besides, knowing his shitty luck, he'd probably run into the damn thing anyway. Might as well take it out on his own terms.
He tasted the stew again, "...Not bad," he muttered with a smirk. Letting it cook just a little bit more was the right move after all. He wiped his mouth with a rag, and let the fire slowly put itself out. He finished the stew, satisfied that his first creation in this world wasn't a disappointment.
With his stomach filled, all he needed now is just some rest. But... sleep wouldn't come easy, it rarely did.
Notes:
I like writing Ragna just enjoying the mundane things in life, he deserved some down time.
If I remember correctly, the next in-universe day is when Subaru's save point change.
I'll see you next time
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