The first time Vector sees the scar on Nasch's back is little more than an accident.
It happens when Vector walks into the bathroom to swap Nasch's shampoo bottle with hair dye, just to walk into a near-naked Nasch who'd already finished showering.
With that embarrassing shark-pattered towel wrapped around his hips.
(Vector remembers the past, and the scars Nasch does not have anymore, and the scars he should have. Only one of them was caused by Vector, to Vector's dismay.)
"Who gave you that scar?"
Nasch doesn't turn around, still busy drying off his toes, but he does stop in his movements. "No one."
"An accident." Nasch finishes, turning around to face Vector.
(He looks hilarious with wet hair.)
"Huh," Vector cracks a knuckle. "Pity you don't have the one I gave you anymore."
"You also don't have the one you gave yourself, anymore, either."
Vector clenches his teeth.
Remembering losing to Nasch again, with the only success having been a cut deep enough to scar in the future, had to be one of the most infuriating memories.
Yet the memory of the ghosts of his past and his own sword dragging him down to hell is infinitely worse.
Nasch eyes him calmly, and there is the slightest smirk on his face. "Still mad?"
"Fuck you." Vector is, indeed, still mad, but that's not the point.
"What about your scars, anyway?" Nasch raises an eyebrow. "I mean the two on your back."
Vector would like to know that, too. After his resurrection, he suddenly had scars exactly where his wings used to be. "Maybe it's a reminder."
Nasch scowls. "Not like anyone could ever forget you, anyway."
"Aren't you nice today?"
For a fraction of a second, Nasch's lips form the hint of a smile. "I hate you."