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"I'm here."
Machi slowly lowered the thin strand of thread in her hand.
That small gesture alone showed she knew exactly who was outside the door.
Still, she wasn't careless. In Meteor City, it wasn't impossible someone might disguise themselves—or worse, use someone she knew as a hostage—to get to her. Even when she recognized the voices, her guard never truly dropped.
After all, in this city of thieves and killers, anything could happen.
"If you're really in there, then open up. It's me, the real deal. Not captured, not disguised. Proof? Right here with me is a dumbass swordsman who couldn't even chop a chicken in half with his blade."
"Yeah? Then why don't you try finding a live chicken in Meteor City! If you do, I'll chop it to pieces right in front of you!"
"So, you're admitting you couldn't kill a chicken."
"Have you even seen a dead chicken in this dump, you bastard? Stop spouting crap!"
The rough voice outside clearly knew how to prove his identity. The problem was, his choice of words had already pissed off the swordsman he came with, and the two of them had started bickering right outside the door.
Hearing that familiar back-and-forth, Machi finally eased, then stepped forward and opened the door.
"Quit arguing, Uvogin," she said calmly. "Come in too, Nobunaga."
Uvogin and Nobunaga walked in still muttering curses under their breath.
"There's someone else in here?!"
Both of them froze the second they noticed another figure in the room.
A young man was craning his neck curiously, sizing them up.
"So these are the younger versions of Uvogin and Nobunaga, huh?"
That explosive afro and the wandering swordsman getup were impossible to mistake. Morin recognized them instantly.
After all, when Chrollo later recalled the founding days of the Phantom Troupe, those few stood out like bold strokes in a painting.
Uvogin was tall and broad, his skin darker, his frame already muscular, arms and legs thick—but nowhere near the beastly size he'd reach in the future. His black afro made him impossible to miss.
Nobunaga, on the other hand, was a complete contrast. His hair was tied into a straight topknot, his face surprisingly delicate, almost handsome, with skin pale as paper. If Uvogin looked like raw strength, Nobunaga looked like some pretty-boy swordsman. No one would ever guess he'd turn into that scruffy, worn-down uncle years later.
That was Morin's first impression of the two. He couldn't help but sigh at how cruel the passage of time was.
"Machi, who the hell's this guy?"
Uvogin asked lazily, picking at his nose and pointing at Morin.
He didn't seem the least bit hostile. To him, the fact that Morin was standing in Machi's room, unharmed, and that Machi had greeted them with her usual calmness was proof enough.
It wasn't that Uvogin trusted Morin. He trusted Machi's instincts.
If she wasn't worried, then neither was he.
For all his brutish looks, Uvogin wasn't as reckless as he seemed.
Nobunaga, though, gave Morin a good up-and-down look, rubbed his chin, and thought sourly to himself:
"Damn it. He's actually better looking than I was at that age."
"He's called Morin. He's staying here with me for now," Machi explained, before turning to Morin. She gestured to the newcomers. "Uvogin, Nobunaga."
The introduction was brief, but the fact that Machi was doing it at all said enough—Morin was accepted.
"So what are you two doing here?" Machi asked, a faint note of annoyance creeping into her voice. Her study time was being interrupted, after all.
"You're asking us?"
Uvogin, who had been sizing up Morin, immediately scowled when he heard her.
"Weren't we supposed to hit the dump together today? Don't tell me you forgot!"
Machi blinked. "…Oh. Right. I guess we did make that plan."
She smacked her forehead lightly.
A couple days ago, she had promised Uvogin and Nobunaga to go scavenging with them today. But after Morin had shaken her up with all his bizarre tricks, she had completely forgotten.
And Uvogin? He was a stickler for time. He hated latecomers and no-shows more than anything.
"We only came because we thought something happened to you," Nobunaga cut in quickly, smoothing things over. "You've never once been late or bailed before, so we figured we'd better check."
"This one's on me," Machi admitted with a shake of her head.
Nobunaga waved it off with a grin. "Don't worry about it. We were just worried, that's all."
Uvogin puffed out his chest proudly.
"Thanks," Machi said softly. For just a moment, her heart warmed.
"Alright, since you're fine, let's move," Uvogin said gruffly, already turning for the door.
"If we wait any longer, the good stuff'll all be gone. Today's dump day—garbage trucks already unloaded, so everyone's headed there. We've gotta hurry."
Then he paused, glancing back at Morin.
"And hey, you—Morin, right? I've got a spare protective suit lying around. Might not fit perfect, but better than nothing. You can use it."
Uvogin was quick to accept him. Once Machi vouched for someone, that was good enough for him.
"Uh…"
Morin scratched his head. "What exactly are we supposed to be looking for at the dump?"
"Supplies, obviously!"
Uvogin gave him a look like he'd just asked the dumbest question in the world. He even threw a sidelong glance at Machi as if to say:
This stray you dragged home… kinda slow, isn't he?
Machi just folded her arms, lips twitching in amusement as she watched the exchange.
"Hmm?"
It was then that Nobunaga suddenly noticed something.
"....."