The grade, in his mind, was bullshit. Such a number was foreign to him, anything less than a 90 really. In fact, Sukuna is the type to complain about a grade, even when it’s an 85.

He had done everything he was asked to do; highlight the emotions, summarize the paragraphs, identify the main idea . . . He had followed the structure, answered the prompts, and said what was directly there on the page.

What more was he supposed to do?

“Jesus Christ,” Toji said from the row behind him, leaning forward just enough for his voice to carry directly over Sukuna’s shoulder, verdant eyes sharp, practically burning into him. “You illiterate or somethin’?”

Sukuna clicked his tongue without turning to face him. “I can fucking read, you idiot.”

Toji let out a quiet snicker, leaning back with lazy satisfaction. 

“Yeah?” he said listlessly. “Doesn’t seem like it.”

Funny enough, the thing about Ryomen Sukuna and Toji Fushiguro was that it was never quite friendly between them . . . But it was never outright hostile either. To be blunt, their relationship sat somewhere on a razor thin precipice between the two. One comment away from something close to friendship, and just as easily, one comment away from rivalry that’ll last generations.

Except neither of them ever stuck around long enough in conversation to find out which one it’d be, even with how much time hockey and their shared schedule forced them together.

Which was exactly why the grades even mattered in the first place.

Hockey.

English wasn’t just another class. 

It was eligibility. It was championships. It was everything. And much to Sukuna’s dismay, also the one thing he couldn’t brute force his way through.

Sukuna scoffed before turning his attention back to the desk, begrudgingly flipping the paper over to see what could possibly be the problem.

And much to his surprise… there was a lot. Red ink crowded the margins, crisp. And well… Harsh.

“Expand emotionally.” “Too literal, no interpretive depth.” “What is the protagonist feeling here? ‘negative’ is not an answer.” “Lacks subtextual engagement with theme.” “Surface level analysis.” “No exploration of internal conflict.”

“…What the fuck,” he muttered under his breath, debating just dropping the class outright. But before he could even remotely leave a tear in the paper— 

“Ryomen,” the professor spoke aloud, soft voice cutting through the room, “I’d like to see you after class. Nothing bad.”

The rest of the lecture had passed in a blur of disinterest. At least on his end. When she finally concluded her lecture, chairs scraped against the floor, he stayed seated, unmoving, while the room slowly emptied out around him.

Only when the last student left did the professor gesture toward the front.

Sukuna stood slowly, hands deep in his pockets, already running through a mental checklist of what she was about to say. Something about him being a bright student, followed by a string of polite reassurances meant to soften the fact that his grades were absolute shit.

The professor sighed. “I know you’re a bright student,” she began, glancing down at the paper on her desk. 

Check.

“Which is exactly why this is frustrating. You’re barely passing this class.”

He fought the urge to roll his eyes—of course he knew that. It wasn’t like he was stupid. If anything, English was the stupid one.

He hated the way everything was dressed up. The prose, the unnecessary layers, the way people wrote things they didn’t mean and still expected others to catch on immediately.

And the worst part was that even the smallest things had labels. Isocolons, hypophoras, metaphors. Verbal irony, then situational, then dramatic. Different names for variations of the same idea, as if they were splitting a single thought into a dozen separate boxes just to feel smarter about it.

Yeah. Irony.

This was ironic. Situationally.

“You’re doing fine in your other courses, and I know you’re on the hockey team, so your schedule isn’t exactly light… but English isn’t something you can just… excuse my language, but half ass.” she huffed with a sorry look on her face.

She paused, watching him closely for a reaction, but there was nothing on his face to read. No furrow of the eyebrows, no twitch of irritation, no flicker of recognition.

Zilch.

“I know you understand the content. It’s there in your writing.. You just don’t communicate it in a way that’s readable.”

“I’m sure you’ve already seen the prompt for the final.”

Yeah. He had. 

“Reflect on a time someone changed the way you view yourself or others.”

More bullshit.

“You’re going to need help with it,” she continued. “Otherwise I’m afraid you won’t finish the semester with a passing grade..”

And for some reason, that’s what got him to react: his eyes widened ever so slightly, not out of the realization he was fucked. But more so the realization that English might actually be his downfall.

The professor exhaled and reached for a second stack of papers on her desk, what he presumed to be more ungraded essays.

“My teaching assistant, Shoko Ieiri, has been helping coordinate tutoring options,” she added, a soft smile settling on her face; warm in a way that suggested she cared a little too much about other people’s emotions, so much so it was practically the theme of her entire class.

Soon after, she leaned over and grabbed an index card from the side, scribbling something down in messy script, something he couldn’t quite make out from where he stood. Once she finally finished writing, she handed it over to him with a soft empathetic look on her face.

“She’ll be more than happy to help you find someone suitable to help you with this assignment.”

[email protected]

The rink was a sheet of pale ice under harsh fluorescent lights, smelling of cold metal, the kind that stuck to your skin no matter how long you stayed off the ice. Skates scraped against the floor in uneven rhythm, gear clattering, voices bouncing off the walls in half formed conversations.

Sukuna stepped through the doors like he always did, late. He dropped onto the bench with practiced ease, a clean, white practice jersey stood out sharply against his tanned skin. Helmet and gloves sitting idly next to him while his fingers were already working at his laces. Routine. Automatic. Except, his mind wasn’t on edgework, timing, or a ‘houda angle’. Instead, it kept circling back to red ink in margins.

“More emotion.”

“Woahhh, someone’s later than usual,” a chipper voice called out.

Gojo.

He skated past others with that infuriating ease, blinding grin visible even under his helmet. He hit a sharp stop by the boards, ice spraying up as he leaned against the gate. “What is it this time?” he hummed.

But before he could respond, another thud—another body leaning over him, careless and daunting.

“This dumbass is failing English, that’s what,” Toji said, voice laced with amusement, an infuriating grin splitting across his face as he yanked his helmet off. Jet black strands clinging to his forehead, damp and disheveled. The same look that had girls lined up trying to get into his pants.

“I’m not failing,” Sukuna snapped, the words coming out sharp enough to polish his skates. His brows drew tight as he leaned forward, fingers curling around his laces until his knuckles went pale. “I just need to make sure I pass the fuckass final s’all.”

Toji burst out laughing, the sound rough and unrestrained, his whole body shaking with each unbothered chuckle, which only seemed to piss Sukuna off further. 

Sukuna finally finished tying his laces with an aggressive tug, yanking them tight before standing to his full height, “I don’t know what’s so funny, you brain-dead ape.” 

Toji’s laughter died in his throat. “Oh?” he said slowly, grin sharpening again. “You wanna know what’s funny? The fact poor ol’ kuna is about to get benched for the rest of the season because ya can’t even follow basic instructions.”

Gojo let out a small, nervous chuckle as he slid himself between them and the gate like a human barrier. Out of everyone who could’ve ended up playing mediator, no one ever expected it to be Satoru.

“Well… alright then.” Gojo leaned back, undeterred. “Toji, be a good friend and help Sukuna out! He’s our best player—you know it.”

Toji rolled his eyes before scoffing. “Fine,” he said at last, locking eyes with Sukuna. “Super hot chicks do my work for me,” he said casually. “That’s how I get by. And what you need is a hot chick to do your work for you.”

Sukuna blinked.

“…That’s disgusting.”

Toji scoffed, “The hell crawled up your ass and died?” his voice severely unimpressed. “I was offering an alternative. Take her work as your own if you’re that desperate. Since when do you care about snubbing people?”

Sukuna’s stare sharpened, dangerous and flat. “Since forever, I’m not a parasite.”

A pause.

Toji barked a laugh again, shorter this time. “Right. Because cheating’s where you draw the moral line.”

Gojo made a small noise of protest, hands lifting as if that could physically hold the tension back. “Okay, okay! Nobody’s cheating, nobody’s a parasite, we’re all friends here, remember?”

Toji looked down at Satoru before scoffing, shoving him out of the way and sending him gliding across the ice, away from him and Sukuna. “No fair!”

“You three!” a loud voice rang out across the rink. “Stop messing around and get on the ice now. I’m looking at you, Ryomen.” And of course, the voice belonged to Coach Yaga, who was undoubtedly a hardass. “And you won’t be needing pucks today. I’ve got something special for the three of you.”

Fuck.

Practice ended up being a blur. Ice particles hanging in the air, skates carving sharp lines, voices bouncing off the rink walls until everything blurred into noise and motion. 

By the time it was over, Sukuna was drenched in sweat, sitting on the locker room bench with his elbows on his knees, breathing hard through his nose, as if the stale air itself was irritating him.

He was surrounded by laughter. Shouting. The slap of towels snapping skin, more specifically Satoru and Suguru getting way too comfortable with bare ass, smacking each other with damp towels.

Idiots.

Everything ached. His arms. His legs. Even his damn shoulders felt heavy, as if they were filled with lead. It was such a headache.

“Yo, Ryomen, you got cleanup today?” called out one of the teammates from across the room.

Sukuna didn’t even look up properly.

“What? Fuck no?” he scoffed, dragging a hand over his face and wiping sweat off his forehead with the back of his wrist.

“Aw, c’mon!” Gojo pouted, his attention snapping away from Suguru and straight onto Sukuna. “You never clean! It’s only fair!”

That earned him immediate backup—voices piling in almost instantly, overlapping in a chorus of complaints and agreement.

“Yeah c’mon, just do it once!!”, “It’s not gonna kill you!”, “Don’t be like that Sukuna!!”

And that’s when Toji’s voice rang through, dragging attention back like a weight. “What, you don’t wanna clean now? Don’t be a little bitch about it.”

He stalked forward. Loud, boisterous confidence bleeding out of him as he closed the distance, the rest of the locker room noise fading into scattered murmurs.

Sukuna barely even looked up before he slowly straightened up from the bench. “Aren’t you late to a hookup or something?” he muttered flatly. “Or are you just talking to yourself now?”

A couple of low laughs flickered through the room.

Toji’s grin sharpened as he stopped right in front of him.

Close enough now that neither of them had to raise their voices.

He jabbed a finger into Sukuna’s chest. “You act real high and mighty for someone who looks like that. What, you think anyone’s lining up for you? As if anyone would ever wanna fuck you.”

The room went still for half a second—just long enough for it to land.

Sukuna looked down at the finger, then back up at Toji before scoffing “Yeah?” he said simply, swatting Toji’s hand away with a small thwack. “You cutting in to be first or what?”

“Very funny. Keep running your mouth like that and I’ll make sure Coach hears every word.”

Sukuna’s retorts died in his throat. The words already sat at his tongue, sharp, automatic, before he swallowed them back down.

Silver tongue turning to lead.

To be frank, getting bitched in front of his team wasn’t exactly his favorite thing. His jaw tightened instead, silence settling where his pride wanted noise.

“I’ll clean.”

Toji scoffed, “Good boy.” he hummed, rolling his shoulders as he backed away toward the exit, grin still lingering, enjoying himself more than he should’ve.

“Try not to get lost on the way to a mop bucket, Ryomen,” tossing his duffle bag over his shoulder as he left the locker room with a soft bang of the metal door slamming shut.

“Fucking dick.” Sukuna muttered under his breath the second the door slammed.

The only reason Sukuna didn’t beat the shit out of Toji right there in that locker room was because Sukuna was a nice guy.

When he wanted to be of course. He didn’t feel like embarrassing anybody today. Nor getting kicked off the team for petty “locker room violence”.

After everyone else eventually left, he found himself gathering pucks and putting them away, tossing them into the basket with a harsh clang that echoed through the empty rink, muttering curses under his breath for each disorganized piece of equipment.

His hair was damp, pushed back and messy, a few strands falling loose. Wrists still wrapped in tape. Grey sweatpants sitting low at his hips, black compression shirt clinging to him in a way that made him look all the more enticing.

What a problem.

When he finally finished, he locked up the supply closet and started shutting everything down—the hum of the rink dying one switch at a time, lights flickering into dull silence.

He dug into his pocket for his phone.

But instead, his fingers caught on the index card.

He stood there for a moment longer than he meant to, quiet enough that even his own breathing had felt loud in his own ears. The index card sat between his fingers, slightly bent at the edges, ink staring back at him, as if waiting for him to even give it the time of day. 

Sukuna frowned at it, jaw tightening. He couldn’t believe what he was about to do next. With a slow exhale through his nose, he pulled his phone out anyway, screen lighting up the empty space in front of him, typing the email address into the search bar.

From: [email protected] Subject: English Final Essay

Shoko, Prof gave me your email. You’re the TA, help me out with my final

— Sukuna

He couldn’t believe he’d just done that. Ask someone for help. That was for people who didn’t know what they were doing, people who struggled. Not him. Not even close. That was for losers who had to rely on others to scrape by. And that wasn’t what he was. 

Not in the slightest.

Before he could even make it back to his section of dorms—

Buzz.

His phone vibrated against his thigh.

1 New Notification.

Shoko Ieiri: “???”

From: [email protected] Subject: ???

A please and thank you wouldn’t kill you. Send your prompt and I’ll match you.

— Shoko.

From: [email protected] Subject: Re: ???

1 Attachment 📎 assignment_final_draft.docx (1.2 MB)

From: [email protected] Subject: your assignment

this is easy asf. you’re either overthinking it or just bad at reading. anyway, i’ve got the perfect person for you.

The thing about Shoko was that she had a knack for matching clients with the right people, almost too effortlessly.

It only served her right that she was a nursing major with a minor in psychology.

“Hey,”

Shoko’s voice rang out light and easy. “I’ve been getting tons of athletes in my inbox lately. You’ll never guess who it is this time.”

Your head perked up from your bed, legs folded over one another as you played tomodachi life on your switch, while only Shoko spun endlessly in the roller chair at your desk. 

Your room was warm with the scent of vanilla and cinnamon from burning candles, your desk scattered with trinkets from smiskis to sonny angels, polaroids of you and your friends layered above your stationery. Your bestfriend Shoko sitting there was simply the finishing touch.

“Hmm… Geto?” you called out, voice soft and easy.

“Nope.”

“Choso?”

“Really?”

“Fine, just tell me!” you huffed, tossing your switch aside as you sat up, legs dangling over the edge, cotton pajamas enveloping your body. Shoko finally stopped spinning to look you dead in the eye.

“Ryomen, fucking, Sukuna.”

Your jaw dropped. “No… you’re lying.”

“Dead serious,” she shrugged, folding her hands over her torso as she slouched back. “You can come look if you—”

Except you were already by her side before she could finish, reading over the brief email chain. Something about his attitude made your expression twist slightly as you dropped your voice under your breath, “geez what a dick”.

You sat on her lap, her arms coming around you to make sure you didn’t slide off. “So! Who's this perfect person you’re telling him about?” you hummed.

Silence.

And then it clicked.

“Shoko.”

“Yessss, my favorite little English major?” her voice lazily smiling from behind you.

“I know you’re not—”

“Yes. Yes, I am.”

“You can’t do that!” you huffed, eyebrows furrowing.

The fact of the matter was that Ryomen Sukuna was mean. Hell, you’d heard stories about him practically running the league on pure skill and attitude, tearing down anyone who’d ever gotten in his way. You were not about to be the next victim.

Sure, you’ve interacted with him once or twice. Which was really just him asking you for the date in your first semester of college.

“When’s this due?” he leaned over, voice gruff. “It’s literally on the syllabus…” you muttered under your breath, and in turn, earning you a deadly glare. “Sorry. March 3rd.” you’d practically gulped.

So yeah. the two of you  had crossed paths before. After all, his presence alone was too demanding to not know of him.

“Ieiri. You must be out of your goddamn mind if you think I’m gonna—”

“Done!” Shoko chimed before you could even lecture her for even thinking of such a thing, a low giggle slipping out of her throat. “A few tutoring sessions won’t kill you.”

By the time you looked back at the screen. You saw it.

From: [email protected] Subject: Re: Final Inquiry

There’s someone who can help you with this. I’ve included their contact below. Try not to scare them off like the others. [email protected] 

— Shoko

Soon after, your phone buzzed against the cotton sheets of your bed.

What a snake.

゛ ⸝⸝ ⋆ 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐙𝐄𝐃 ♡ 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓.

love 　notes. 　 ꒰⑅ ˃ ^ ˂ ꒱ᩙ ! 　ok this took way longer for me to write than i thought it would, i hope it was yum ! ! also tojikuna need to crack immediately

⎯⎯ 　୨୧  ៸៸ 　 lovelies :　taglist　 open !

@dev1lw4arsprada @akiisnothere @shazzer29 @oonlyyauriee @scarlettuce-lettuce @idkandidc888 @megurei @sweetleylinedemon @jazfartz2 @reminiscentyearn @lastgirlontmblr @bobaaddict @kingraspberry12-blog @sugubbu @housepartyprotocol @a0n6mus8 @chochiholic @ipoopedmypants47 @flwr0r4 @dollcest @zar4fr @hydrangea-chocolate53 @chuuyashatdust @ilovepeople456 @snuxxy @chosoprettygirl @mischivana @datcrazyybratt31m @hannahzg8 @sukunash0e1m @ejk31 @lovr-bella @sanjisdarling @pinkyswearowawi @fawzites @ssukidoll @jiyuspassion @winkii @spac3-c4d3t @kuna-beefcake @fysalia @amourflores @yorikae

kanazawa was beautiful.

you hauled your bag out of the train compartment, hurrying to get inside the terminal. you checked your phone again, then looked up to spot the line you needed to be in to catch your second train.

a part of you - a huge one - wanted to rush off, find a seat, and stay seated until your next train arrived, but you quickly squashed the instinct.

people were rushing all around you, gaggles of locals and tourists alike. some of them were dressed in fun and styled komons, while a majority seemed like they were getting to and from work.

you took a deep breath, before turning and wheeling your suitcase towards the exit near the ishikawa railway line.

there is no need to rush, you reminded yourself as you stepped in the sun, not anymore.

you squinted your eyes against the morning glare of the sun before taking in the scene.

the tsuzumi-mon gate of the station stood proud at the entrance of the station, the famous symbol of all its resilience throughout the years.

you stood there for a minute, out of the way of others, as your gaze roamed around the expanse of the station. it was lively, and warm despite being a city.

even the hot weather couldn't conceal how fresher the air felt compared to tokyo.

almost in a meditative state, you leaned slightly against the pillar beside you, a deep exhale relaxing your shoulders. a voice inside reminded you that you probably looked weird -- or corny, but you chose not to care as you continued people-watching for a minute.

a line of stalls caught your eye, bustling with tourists and foreigners. after a moment of contemplation, you pushed off the pillar and dragged your suitcase towards it.

the smell of fresh oni wafted towards your direction as you neared the stalls, but maybe despite convincing yourself otherwise, you really were nervous. you passed the seafood with nothing but an appreciative glance.

you quietly strolled through the stalls, your demeanor starkly contrasting against the calls of the hawkers and the chatty folk shopping.

you bristled, the feeling of being a foreigner engulfing you like a blanket before you could steady yourself. it still felt like you were an outsider looking in.

your lips pursed, eyes flitting side to side as you decide to go sit down at your terminal to wait for your train after all. you turned on your spot, retracing your steps back.

a small stall, tucked in between two boisterous and loud seafood hawkers, caught your attention. it was unassuming — you had missed it the first time.

you slowed your steps before coming to a stop in front of the makeshift shop.

rows of sculptures and dolls decorated the shelves, all in different attires and makeup. the front of the stall was cluttered with trinkets — keychains, shells, bracelets and the like.

“welcome!” a high pitched voice piped from somewhere beneath you. you lowered your eyes to see a girl - presumably about 8 years old - sliding down her chair to greet you.

your eyebrows jump a little, "oh. hello," you reply, tilting your head in a casual gesture.

"what would you like to buy?" she asked, twirling around to look at her stall and then at you.

"oh, um," you straighten up a little, "i wasn't-"

"what about him?" she reaches up on her tip-toes, extending her arm up to pull down a fat gosho doll. you held your breath in anticipation, worried that she might drop it, but she pulled the doll off the shelf with impressive finesse and presented it to you.

she thrusted the fat baby gosho doll in your hands before you could protest.

"my grandma made this one," she launched into an explanation, "it brings prosperity and helps you consi- convi- con-" she stuttered, struggling to grasp the correct word. you stood there with the fat gosho in your hands, patiently.

"it helps you make a baby!" she rerouted, deciding on dumbing it down for you like her grandmother had for her.

"oh! no- i-" you sputtered, flustered at the girl's comment, before breathing out a soft chuckle, "um, that is lovely but, ah, i can't travel with him. i'm afraid i might break him," you smiled at her apologetically, handing back the baby to her.

the girl deflated, a small pout adorning her face as she cradled the doll.

you felt a prickle in your chest at her obvious dismay. you let out a sigh before smiling, "what about that doll, though?"

she perked back up comically, the gosho doll quickly forgotten as she dragged a chair to pull down the doll you were now pointing at.

and that was how you were back in kanazawa station, a delicately wrapped hina doll in your arms, waiting for your second and last train before you would finally arrive at your new home.

when you arrived at nanao station, handling both the new doll and your luggage with just enough grace to not get laughed at, the sun was overhead, shining almost viciously.

you couldn't see your own shadow.

you wheeled the bag, looking around at the signs to walk towards the bus station. sweat beaded at the back of your neck. having your hair down felt like a stupid choice.

you quickly hauled yourself under the shade of the bus stop, putting down the wrapped doll on top of the seat before quickly gathering your hair in a bun. the bun was messy and sloppy, and it stooped down at the nape of your neck.

before you could find a chance to fix it, the bus arrived. hastily, you carefully picked up the hina doll and the handle of your bag before rushing up to the edge.

seeing your luggage, the bus conductor got down, ushering you in before picking up your bag and getting up after you.

you bow, as well as you can in between seats, “thank you so much.”

the conductor grunted, pulling up his machine.

you pull out your phone, the address - or more like instructions - sent by your new landlord.

“oto… otomari..tera-” you squinted at the screen, trying to vocalise the big word. before you could try any harder, the conductor’s machine whirred and he handed you the ticket. you glanced at it and handed him 170¥ as mentioned there, mumbling another thank you.

the bus was empty, and with a jolt that jerked you forward and off-balance, it took off to the place that you hoped would be your solace.

your new landlord had given you a detailed set of instructions on how to reach the house. it brought you great comfort and had, so far, let you relax as you had travelled so far away from the only place you’d ever known.

but now was the hard part.

one of his instructions were to call him as soon as the bus had driven past sazanamimachi. something about that being the halfway point to your intended stop.

you took a deep breath as you finally dialed up the number for the first time since finding the place you wanted to live in. was that stupid? extremely.

“hello?”

you jumped a little, startled by the deep voice reverberating through your phone. it was a bit of an overreaction, but you were running low on human interaction for over a week now.

“um, hello—” you cleared your throat and took a breath, “hi, yes, i’m the tenant…?”

“oh,” you could hear rustling in the background, “yes, of course, how can i help you?”

“I just wanted to inform you that my bus has passed sazanamimachi.” you fiddled with the wrapping paper of your doll in your lap.

“you have?” you could hear the surprise in his tone and that made you confused.

“uh, yes,” you hesitated, unsure what was happening. “is something wrong?”

“no— no, i apologise, i didn’t know you would be here so soon,” you could hear movement in the background, some clacking noises and chatter.

“oh!” you straightened up, “i— i’m sorry, did you not receive my email?”

“no, i did, it's just that— the date of your arrival was for next month..?”

you closed your mouth, eyes widening as a tinge of red spread through your face. you hurriedly pulled the phone off of your ear, putting the call on speaker, before sifting through your outbox.

he was right.

“shit,” you breathed, momentarily forgetting he was on call.

your landlord let out a breath that sounded something between a sigh and laughter. “I’ll come get you.”

“i—” you scrambled, trying to think of something to say after colossally humiliating yourself, “i’m so sorry.”

“it happens to the best of us,” he didn’t have to, but he reassured you. “i’ll be at the bus stop by the time your bus arrives.”

you couldn’t say anything other than a small thank you before he hung up.

the first thing you saw as you ascended down the stairs of the bus was the soft glare of the sun’s reflection on the water.

it was a breathtaking sight.

your mind went blank as your eyes remained transfixed to the sight before you. your heartbeat lulled down to a slow rhythm, your breathing deepening as the smell of the sea engulfed your olfactory senses.

the sea in front of you was quiet. small, gentle waves originating a few feet away from the shore, fizzling out as they reach the end.

the clear blue water sparkled as if it was simply made out of millions of tiny diamonds.

the sun was kissing the sea with a gentleness that you had never really witnessed before.

a rough clearing of throat broke you out of your sweet reverie.

you jumped again, slightly, turning on the heel as you came face-to-face with the man.

you felt yourself losing your breath for the second time this day.

the first thing you noticed — and that surprised you — was his eyes.

in front of the sun, his eyes shined like honey, but that wasn’t what compelled you to stare at him like a moron, no.

it was the fact that his eyes looked like the most alive things you had ever seen. his eyes were hardened, squinting against the sunlight, but it wasn't enough to hide the universe behind them.

it took effort from your end to tear your eyes away from his, and that was when you noticed it — burn marks covering almost half of his whole body, face included.

your gaze roamed around his face, down his neck and the scarred skin disappearing behind his thin shirt that fluttered against the wind, and his arm that was half raised in a - now hesitant - wave.

you were caught off-guard that his eyes were something you noticed before his scars.

he cleared his throat again, and you straightened, face burning as you realised a minute too late how incredibly rude you were for gaping at him.

"i'm so sor-"

"i'm ken-"

you bowed deep, hands bunched up at the junction between your thighs. he raised his arm higher, fingers spreading so that his wave became on of sheepish forgiveness rather than of greeting. as if he was the one apologetic for looking out of the ordinary.

"it's okay," his voice was deeper than it was on the phone, and still so reassuring, "i'm kento nanami, your host."

heart thundering, from a mix of both embarassment and excitement, you raised yourself to full height before bowing again, more casually this time, "thank you for coming to pick me up."

"it's no problem," he smiled at you, the thin tissue over his cheek stretching and wrinkling. "you wouldn't have been able to navigate the address with maps, and there's not a lot of public transit in this town."

"oh," you nodded, looking around at the deserted highway. the bus stop had a few houses directly opposite to the shore, spaced far enough to fit another house between them.

but despite that, you couldn't see any other people outside. it had been just like it was at nanao station and the bus. empty.

kento, presuming your thoughts, said, "the townspeople are either at work, or napping," he explained, reaching out for your luggage. "the summer heat peaks around this time, so it's often a very quiet time."

you hummed in understanding, letting his take your bag from you before you could register, still too engrossed in your new surroundings.

"my car is over there," kento pointed to a small, pale green van by the side of the road, "the house is only a ten minute walk from here, but you must've travelled a lot so i didn't want to make you walk in the sun."

you smiled at him, touched by his thoughtfulness, "thank you."

"so, uhm," you started, walking to his car while cradling the hina-doll in your arms, "about my mistake.."

he pulled open the trunk and settled your luggage in while you stood there uselessly.

he mulled over it for a moment before turning to you, shutting the trunk, "since it's... a little short notice, i'd hope you can be a little patient with me while i clean out your apartment and make a few repairs."

he rubbed the back of his neck once before straightening up, "i.. wasn't even sure if you were serious about the renting so i was planning to wait the month and check if you would show up."

your smile was strained at the reminder. there was no one to blame but yourself.

it had been incredibly rash on your end, even if you didn't take into account how you'd informed him that you would move in next month.

this was the best case scenario, if anything. unless kento was to haul you off into the woods and murder you - which, at this point, oh well, you know? at least otomari-machi was an extremely beautiful place.

kento glanced at you, unsure of what to make of your silence. "it's not that i don't trust you, at least, it's not personal. i just.. was a bit apprehensive that anyone would actually move in here, even if it was for just a month."

you followed him to the front of the car, opening your door before he could, "why not?"

he waited until you were seated before replying, "it's..." he hesitated, revving up the engine, "it's a very small and remote village. there's nothing much to do here, or at all. and i suppose it can be a bit dull."

"really?" you stared out the window, your hina doll carefully laid on your lap. "i think it's gorgeous."

kento looked at you from the corner of his eye, but your gaze remained transfixed at the sea as your drove by, "....i'm glad you think so."

if a few weeks ago, someone had told you that you would be unemployed, homeless, single and in a stranger's car in a small town across the country, you would have laughed at their face.

and yet for the first time in years, you felt like you could breathe once again.

even though, technically, you were still homeless.

hi! if you are someone who is enjoying the series so far (which is unfathomable to me, if im being honest), and were waiting for an update, i'm so sorry about my unfortunate timing to dip. i truly thought i would publish the new chapter a few weeks ago but i just wasn't loving it so i scrapped the last 4 drafts and rewrote it all over again. i kept losing progress on this draft too but i did it!!!! the story will get start to be adequately paced now that the introductions are underway, and reader won't be in her little bubble anymore. another thing to keep in mind that this is a slow burn. and i mean slooooow burn, hope you are ready for that! lastly, thank you so much if you've made it to this note. i cannot express enough how much this series mean to me, and to know that someone out there is taking time out to read something that i wrote and that i cherish so much is again, something i never imagined i would have the privilege to experience. you have no idea how much it means to me.

REFERENCES AND IMAGES!

KANAZAWA, THE DOLLS, ABT JAPANESE RAILWAYS:

kanazawa blog that i referred: https://wanderlustprincess.net/2025/05/28/kanazawa-an-unexpected-3-days-of-beauty/

nanao station, especially the bus stop (google maps preview link)

otomariteranomae bus station (google maps preview link) - google link - https://maps.app.goo.gl/gEptDfww6pEZDXRR9

otomarimachi - google link - https://maps.app.goo.gl/rkDuc8ahB59uL54YA

i recommend visiting the preview links! esp the otomariteranomae bus stop. i wish i was reader </3

tags.: @yorikae @satoruwashere @kldgo @mimicosmos8 @reneisance @sugusplaything @yailuxe @xorikki @deputy-videogamer @cicadasandwitchmoths @prome911 @caramelluxe @sadlovergirlhere @lunarevia @peachifying @ilovesmolkittycats @nayla6411 @eagerlyturbulentcaldera @getoville @luvs-angel @creamvy @beelikethis @waterlving @sukunascunt @pikmin224 @alebrasil0101 @wakeupr41 @ratgeneralarmageddon @mrs-nanami @dobbythethotelf @fushigurosdoll @silentfriday @meganthestallionswife @bxdbxbby @kuuchi-man @aaphrodiitee @tojisgdgirl @peonysecret @lisabelhyhn @0neCookie @schnunny @leftrightgn @pjslee @bigbootyfemboys16 @yourlocalcatscammer