redamancy.

He knew he looked like a wreck. Saburo kept looking over his shoulder towards the café door, unsure of who he was even supposed to be anxiously waiting for; he was a bit sweaty and he knew there were dark circles under his eyes, because he certainly did not get any sleep beforehand. 

Saburo turned towards the pixel world to make friends; it came with some danger and a lot of initial uncertainty, but he’s found that some of the faces behind the 1’s and 0’s were much more interesting and genuine than those he could see in person. He’s found one in particular though, that he seemed to have clicked with well. 

He didn’t know their real name—unless the name they actually gave him was real—and he didn’t know what they looked like nor did he know what they sounded like. They were his age, as far as he knew at least, and lived around here. He couldn’t help but be so suspicious because... well... who knew? You could be anyone on the internet, after all; he wasn’t even Saburo the moment he sat in front of his screen, so he knew just how easy it could be to lie. 

But, he trusted them. He spent months talking to them, creating a connection that felt surreal, like he was on cloud 9 each time he saw their name pop up on any of his screens. He’s always wanted someone he could always be with, and it was always easy to be with them. He didn’t have to hold his tongue or change how he was—they either threw the sass right back or laughed. It was a strange feeling, one mixed with subtle anxiety, excitement, and... something else. He didn’t want to admit that he had actual feelings for them, because it would be ridiculous to do so. If he pretended these feelings didn’t exist, he wouldn’t have to face how funny he thought they were, or how caring, or how supportive, or smart, or-- 

He fidgeted with his phone, simply swiping between the different home pages aimlessly, waiting for them to text him back. Saburo tensed up each time his phone went off, only sighing in response as he swiped away his brother’s messages since they weren’t the ones he was waiting for. He didn’t tell them because he didn’t want to be treated like a child, though he knew the danger he was putting himself in meeting this person. It never really hit him that despite feeling as though he knew this person his entire life because of how easy they were to be with, he was about to come face to face with a stranger. They could be twice his age! They could be some scary looking thug! They could ACTUALLY be a thug! Or, maybe even something worse! The sudden realization started to mess with his head and caused him to start getting up, ready to leave; his phone went off. 

‘I’m here! You said the café across from the flower shop, right?’ 

Saburo’s pulse skyrocketed. He started to find it hard to breathe as he sat back down, semi-curling himself into a ball in a panic. He could no longer hear the hustle and bustle of the café, only the overwhelming sound of his heartbeat in his ears. It was happening—oh god, what did he get himself into? He was so excited to finally meet the person he considered his best friend, the one he found himself crushing on—it was going to be such a mind-blowing moment that he was sure his heart would feel as though it were a fireworks show. His heart felt like it was going to give out, instead. With shaky hands, he texted back. 

‘Yeah. I’m in the far corner.’ 

He could hear footsteps approaching. They sounded light and bouncy, a mix of what seemed like a bubbly step and potential nerves—a good sign, he thought. He closed his eyes tightly, fearful of what he was going to see if he opened them. He didn’t even think about the fact they knew nothing of his age or appearance either—oh god, what if they didn’t like him? What if they judged him? What if-- 

“LBRo?” his online name was called out by a sweet-sounding voice, “It’s you, right?” 

“Y-yeah...” he managed to open his eye for just a peek at them, and was in shock by what he came face to face with. 

They had the most beautiful smile. They were definitely around his age, and the giggle that came from them was angelic. He could feel his face heating up—he knew he was red—and he tensed his body to stop from shaking. Biting the inside of his cheek, he fidgeted with his hands underneath the table, unable to keep his eyes on them for long without losing his breath. They were even more attractive than he always pictured; they were even more perfect than his imagination and he didn’t even know it was possible. He suddenly felt painfully shy. 

“I’m (Y/n)!” their smile carried through their voice, “Please tell me you have a better name I can call you--”  “Oh,” he accidentally made eye contact with them and turned a darker hue of red, “Saburo.” 

“Saburo!” They playfully kicked his shin beneath the table, making him instinctively give them an unamused pout, “There you are; you didn’t seem like yourself. Feeling shy?” 

“No!”  

“Mighty defensive, don’tcha think?” 

He tried hard not to smile, but it was impossible to hold it back. Within an instant, he gave a genuine laugh and smile to follow suit. He continued to deny his shyness until (Y/n) playfully brushed it aside, changing the conversation to the new board game they saw announced earlier that day, immediately touching on some of his favourite things. Saburo couldn’t even remember why he had been so afraid just moments before. 

They talked for hours without realizing. They got into such a comfortable, effortless groove of talking about anything and everything, revealing things about themselves, and playful banter. It felt so easy, he would have described their presence as home, if he could without blushing. They were much cuter than he ever expected, and his heart certainly could not take the way they smile at him from across the table, looking at him through their lashes and playfully—flirty? --kicking him lightly, playing footsie. Like being hit by a truck, Saburo became well aware of just how large of a crush he developed on the person sat across from him, and stiffened up instantaneously. Their laughter played like music to his ears. 

The only sounds in the room were the clicking of his keyboard and the ticking of the clock. The silence was welcome, as Nanami worked; typing endless lines of notes, emails, and whatever else he hadn’t managed to do throughout the day. He hated overtime—despised it, even. So why was he made to sit here and do the thing he hated the most? Was it even the thing he hated the most anymore? 

The hours drew on, and the waning sunlight was not made known to him—the blue light of the screen in front of him had drawn him in, tunnel vision, as the characters on the screen danced together in ways he didn’t know were possible. He had to push on—just a little bit more then he’d be done. Just a few more, then he’s done. Just a little more time… 

His immersion had finally broken when a hand waved in front of his face, between his nose and the screen. Nanami should have noticed their presence earlier, but he was neither scared nor disappointed. He leaned back for a moment, rubbing the exhaustion from his eyes before turning towards them with an equally exhausted smile. 

“My dear… hello.” 

“Hello? That’s all ya’ve got?” 

When he opened his eyes, his s/o had playfully gestured to the meal they had set up without his knowledge. Homemade food, napkins, utensils, and even drinks had been set up neatly, as though it were a catered affair. They spun around in the office chair they had pulled up, shouting out an equally playful cheer before making a grand gesture to their work again. 

“Welcome to dinner!” 

“Dinner?” Nanami had to quickly check his watch. “Is it that time already?” 

“It’s past that time, Kento.” (Y/n) sighed, now leaning on their elbows with their chin in their hand. “Well past it, actually. The sun’s gone.” 

Nanami looked out the windows, the skyline’s sunlight replaced by various building lights instead. It was his turn to sigh now, leaning his had back a moment why he adjusted his tie. 

“So I see.” He swallowed down his exhaustion before sitting back upright. “I’m sorry, love.” 

“It’s alright,” (Y/n) waved him off with a smile, “I know sometimes you’ve just gotta work hard. It’s not like I haven’t had a few overtimes in my life too. I appreciate all the hard work you do! But come on, eat. When was the last time you ate something?” 

Nanami shook his head and turned back to his computer screen, his fingers dashing along the keyboard once again as he dismissed the idea of a meal. 

“I need to finish this. I’ll eat after.” 

(Y/n) pouted at the rejection. They waved their hand in front of the screen again, dragging out their words. 

“Keeeeeeennnntttooooo! You need to eat!”  

When he continued working, simply ignoring their hand, they leaned back into it and pouted once more. He knew they didn’t want to do this, and assumed he was asking for it. It was time to brace himself for the guilt-trip route. 

“After all the time and effort I put in to make you dinner AND bring it to you? All nice and neat?” 

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate your effort or your gesture, (Y/n),” he instantly responded, never stopping his typing nor taking a moment to look at them, “it’s just that this needs done. I can’t be distracted and have it drag on even later than it has. I’ll join you as soon as I’m finished, I promise, dear.” 

“Pet names will not save you,” they muttered under their breath.  

Fine, they decided, they’d wait—much to Nanami’s relief. At least, that’s what he thought; after 10 minutes of silence, he could hear them impatiently strumming their fingertips on the desk, then taking the initiative to make their leg jump, bumping into the desk and causing it to shake. He tried to ignore this the best that he could, but he could easily tell that they were bumping the desk hard on purpose, attempting to move his keyboard around and get his attention. Without a word—and one hand remaining on the keyboard—he moved his free hand to grab onto the space of their thigh right above their knee, squeezing it slightly and pushing their leg until their foot was flat on the ground as a warning. Once he heard them huff, he gave their thigh a more loving squeeze before returning it to the keyboard, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly when he heard them groan slightly. 

They had begun trying everything to pull Nanami from his work. They held food up to his mouth to try and get him to at least take a bite, smashing it repeatedly against his lips when he refused, until he got tired of it and gently pushed their hand away—his eyes never leaving the screen. He could hear them whisper sweet nothings into his ear, their breath warm and tickling—which he knew they could see the slight blush creep up to them—still, he remained diligent. They moved behind him to massage his shoulders, their hands slowly, gently, teasing their way down the front of him—still, his eyes hadn’t left the screen, his hands nimbly crossing over keys all the while. (Y/n) had even tried running their fingertips up his thigh towards his lap in a desperate attempt to get his attention—only then did he pause to grab their hand and give them a warning glance for a moment before jumping back to work. 

The sigh his s/o let out was long, defeated. Nanami could feel the warmth of their fingertips drag along his jawline a moment before physically turning his face to finally look at them properly. They cupped his cheek, and he had no more control in him to fight it off; he melted into their touch, leaning into their hand as they held his head up. He gently held onto their wrist, placing a soft kiss to the space between it and the bottom of their palm. It was his turn to sigh, this time a mixture of relief, exhaustion, and defeat. Tired eyes met those holding heavy concern, but they were so soft that Nanami felt his heart stir. 

“Mimi,” their voice was gentle, quiet, just above a whisper as they used a nickname full of equal emotion, “really, are you alright? You seem distracted.” 

“You’ve successfully distracted me, yes—” 

“No,” their voice stood firm but remained as gentle as they started, “I don’t mean me. I don’t mean your work. I mean here, in your head.” 

They leaned in to give a light kiss to his forehead. Nanami looked to them with a bit of a dumbfounded gaze—distracted? In his head?  

The room around them started to quickly fade away as thoughts flew, swirled, and danced around his mind. The corners of his vision started to get more and more blurry, growing dark, until he finally could no longer see (Y/n) in front of him and saw himself instead. He saw him go through the motions, day in and day out, of mundane life. He saw himself walk through the office doors, sit at his desk, and work away until the sun had gone down—just as he had that day. He watched as his minds eye played the scene over and over again—is this really what he wanted for himself anymore? Is this all that life had to offer someone like him? 

Certainly it was better than before, right? This is what he wanted. A quiet life, a normal life, where he’s no longer concerned about throwing himself to the wolves for people in a system who only see you as dog food. He started to see a younger form of himself now, fighting things that most people could not see, trying to find where his sense of justice had gone—where his dear friends have gone. He watched as this younger self slowly lose the lights in his eyes as he lost sight of what was right, what people should have been doing to prevent all the bloodshed around him. 

As though it were reality, warm hands cup his face, and light up the darkness around him. He looked at his memories version of (Y/n), as they giggled and stepped away from him, spinning, bouncing, dancing along stepping stones of stars as they held their hand out to him, inviting him on their journey. He hopped among the stars alongside them, stumbling here and there, but always looking up to find them waiting for him with the largest, most loving smile.  

Here, he realized, was where he was meant to be. He will always have doubts about what he should do—was anything really the right choice, was anything actually what he wanted? The unmovable factor was that (Y/n) was here, with him, no matter which way the rest of his life stretched him. No matter what bruises his heart, his love was right there with star-shaped bandaids to patch him up—that was something to take comfort in; that was something to hold near and dear. 

The warmth of their hand cupped his cheek again, this time, he opened his eyes to see (Y/n), illuminated by the blue light of the screen, as beautiful to him as ever. They offered him a knowing smile, one that helped further ease his anxieties and let him finally take a nice, deep breath. He kissed the palm of their hand again, clearing his throat a bit as he eventually spoke again. 

“You’re right, I have been distracted. I was burying myself in work to run from it, I’m sorry, my love. However…” he raised his hand to brush their hair out of their face, moving to cup their cheek as well and gently smiling as they instantly melted into his touch, “I’ve found myself again. I’ll always have doubts… I’ll always worry… but with you, I suppose it’s alright to be human. It’ll be a burden for another day.” 

(Y/n) took a turn to kiss the palm of his hand this time, and gave a pure, child-like innocent smile. 

“I’m not sure what I did or what you’re talking about, but I’m glad I was able to help. I’ll always be here to help you, Kento.” 

“That you will be.”  

Reluctantly, Nanami turned from their hold and laughed a bit to himself when he heard them huff; whether it be from the loss of their intimacy or the fact he’d turned back to the computer, he would never know. He felt them lean back in and kiss his cheek lightly as he logged off for the night, the screen no longer lighting up the room.  

In the dark, he turned his head to find their lips again, easily slipping into a drunken stupor by the love they poured into their kiss. Another one, another one, another one—until he managed to laugh against their lips and start to search for his phone’s flashlight. 

“Come on. Let’s pack this up and go eat at home.” 

“Oooor…” (Y/n) had a teasing tone to their voice. “We could stay and finish up some work.” 

Nanami was quickly shushed when he attempted to voice his complaints, that after all that he’d logged off and made his choice for nothing—by tempting hands moving their ways up his thighs, a seductive tongue making its way up his throat. He cleared his throat and spoke, voice wavering, as his hands met their waist. 

“You know I don’t enjoy overtime.” 

“Jiro!”  

“(Y/n), shh!” 

“How did you--” 

“Shh!” Jiro frantically waved his hands in front of their face, trying to keep them quiet. “Please!”  

“Why did you--” 

“You two, stop talking.” 

“Yes teacher.” “Sorry...” 

(Y/n) faced forward, but continued to side-eye the ceiling above the boy who sat next to her. Stuck to the ceiling was a slice of cheese that he didn’t like on the sandwich he kept sneaking bites of. 

They had been watching him—taking glances, really—throughout class since he did an unusual amount of fidgeting today. They watched as he slowly but surely managed to unwrap a sandwich he must have bought from the convenience store on the way to school, and hastily take bites from behind his standing notebook or whenever the teacher turned their back. At first, (Y/n) thought they were seeing things until they did a double-take and realized that no, Yamada Jiro was in fact trying his hardest to eat a sandwich without being caught. They had to stifle a few laughs as he had to frantically chew a few bites to answer a question or chew very, very slowly as he leaned back in his chair to seem less suspicious. Once he finished the sandwich, (Y/n) thought he was home-free and silently cheered for him, getting oddly engrossed in the whole adventure without sharing a word with him—until he took out another one. 

(Y/n) looked at him incredulously. After fighting with the first one for a few hours, he was going to take out another one? They gripped the edge of their desk—just wait until lunch time! The second time, however, his first bite caused him to pale like a ghost; that really caught (Y/n)’s attention. Jiro looked like he was struggling to swallow a brick before he finally stuck his tongue out in disgust and opened his sandwich, taking out the culprit. (Y/n) only glanced at the moment, seeing that he must not have liked the cheese—either taste of texture wise, they didn’t know and didn’t care enough to ask—and returned their eyes to their book; it was the sudden, subtle slapping sound that caused them to freeze in place with a monotone look on their face. 

Slowly, almost robotically, they turned their head towards Jiro, and watched him happily take another bite of his sandwich. The wrapping had no discarded cheese on it. They continued staring at him hard, burning a hole in the side of his head until he slowly gave them a side-eye. He jumped a bit, turning to them with one cheek full like a hamster, quickly chewing now that he had gotten caught.  

“What was that?” They whispered. 

“What was what?” Jiro whispered back, nervously hiding his sandwich. 

“That sound.” They subtly gestured to his sandwich. “And where did your cheese go.” 

“My cheese--” His face lit up in embarrassment, “Have you watched me the entire time?” 

“No!” They quietly hissed. “Yes. Only glances here and there! Where did your cheese go!” 

“I got rid of it!”  

“It’s not in your wrapper!”  

“What kind of interrogation is this, I thought we were in math class!” 

“Where is the--”  

A small piece of cheese fell onto his desk. Very slowly, (Y/n) turned their head towards the ceiling as Jiro pleaded for them to just face forward and pretend they didn’t see anything. When their eyes landed on the seemingly nasty piece of cheese attached to the ceiling, their face twisted in both grim and disgust. That’s how they ended up here, now lunchtime, as (Y/n) stood next to Jiro's desk with one hand on top of the desk and the other on their hip.  

“Now will you tell me how you got that to stick to the ceiling?” 

“I just gave it a good throw,” he mumbled through the rest of his sandwich. “A little launch. That’s all.” 

“W--” They looked up at the cheese then back down to him. “Why are you saying that so casually? And what made you think you should throw it up there in the first place!” 

“It was gross, I didn’t like it.” 

“That’s when you put it in your wrapper to throw away later!” They gestured heavily to the ceiling. “Not just... toss it to the ceiling!” 

Jiro looked at them for a while, like he was trying to process their words, before just shrugging and taking the last bite of his sandwich. (Y/n) sighed and folded their body as emphasis on how exhausted they were trying to understand his logic. They’ve sat next to him for a fairly long time in their school career, they were well aware he wasn’t dumb, but this time... 

“Moving on,” he swallowed his food and leaned on his hand, stretching his body across his desk and looking up at them through his lashes with a smirk on his lips. “Are ya always starin’ at me?” 

(Y/n) scoffed and flicked him on the forehead. 

“Why in the world would I spend my time staring at you?” 

“’Cause I’m cute and you’ve had a crush on me for years and you just can’t take it anymore so you stare at me longingly, even while I eat, thinking, ‘oh, Jiro, if only I were that sandwich, how you would hold me and--’” 

“I’m going to stop you right there. What kind of manga are you reading now?”  

(Y/n) smacked him on the arm—soft enough to know they were playing around, but hard enough to ease the fact they were embarrassed they had been read like a book—even if it was accidental on his part. He just laughed in response and continued smirking at them, doing his best to flirt with them since he never gets the chance; he’s always too nervous to ask them to hang out or have actual conversations with them—he was going to seize the moment. 

“You can borrow it if you want. Or... you can come by my place and we could watch the anime together sometime?” 

“Is that so?” 

“Just admit you’re in love with me, god, (Y/n).” 

It was (Y/n)’s turn to laugh, taking the opportunity to beat him at his own game and lean in close to him, a devilish smile playing in their favour. 

“If I admit it, then it’d be no fun.” 

Jiro’s eyes widened, watching as (Y/n) straightened up and turned to leave, heading towards the cafeteria to grab their own lunch. He stuttered a bit, no real words coming out; when they finally did, his voice cracked. 

“Wait, really?” He sat up in his chair, “So... does that mean you’ll actually go on a date with me if I ask?” 

“Who knows?” (Y/n) threw over their shoulder, rounding the corner and leaving the room. 

What (Y/n) unfortunately missed was how Jiro leaned onto his desk again, sighing longingly only to shout once the slimy cheese had fallen from the ceiling onto his face. They heard him shout from the hall, however, and couldn’t stop themselves from laughing—they had noticed it start to fall a while back and had to leave before it fell on them instead. 

“Alright look, what if you put my name down for a tab--” 

“Sir, this is a café, not a bar. 3000 yen.” 

“That’s an insane price!” 

“That’s low in comparison; have you seen how much you’ve eaten?” 

“You’re real rude for working in a café!” Dice crossed his arms and turned his nose up, dramatically pouting to put on a show. “I should report you to the manager--” 

“It is the end of my shift, and I am the manager. Sir. 3000 yen, please.” 

(Y/n) stood behind the register, tired and deadpan expression on their face. They were used to people yelling at them day in and day out, people unsatisfied or rude or just plain... wacky, like this one. Part of them felt bad, of course, watching this guy wolf down all this food as if he hadn’t eaten in a while—they would’ve just paid for him if they could’ve, but the bottom line was that they couldn’t, so he needed to cough up the dough.  

He sighed with his entire body, hunching over and drooping his shoulders to accentuate that he looked as though he suddenly aged 40 years. Meekly, he raised his hand to signify that he needed a moment, whipped out his phone, and turned around. (Y/n) felt a little bad for whoever was on the other end of this blue-haired boy’s phone—they caught a few words like ‘yes again’ and ‘please get me out of this!’--it was apparent it wasn’t the first time he’d been unable to pay. This time, they suddenly aged 40 years at the realization that the poor person on the other line had to deal with this nonsense more than once. They were the shell of a person whenever he hung up and turned back around. 

“Are ya sure I can’t do anything--” 

“You can pay--” 

“What if I... I show you a magic trick!” 

“No.”  

“I give you my watch.” 

“You aren’t wearing a watch, sir.” 

Exasperated, (Y/n) stood and denied each offer he gave; a game that tossed the two of them back and forth for what seemed like forever. (Y/n) was lucky there were no other customers present. This blue-haired boy was relentless, however, and tried offering everything he could no matter how off-the-wall it was of an offer; (Y/n) wondered if he were a gambler, and that’s what led him to this fate. They remained professional, however, stayed as close to the line as possible. Part of them just wanted to kick him out. Just as he’s listing off a few of his skills, (Y/n) instinctively called out a welcome as the door to the café chimed. 

“Ah, Dice, you are still here.” 

The blue-haired boy—Dice was his name, apparently—turned towards a gentle looking, brown-haired man who donned what (Y/n) thought to be some of the most beautiful traditional clothes. It took a moment for them to recognize those striking green eyes; they’ve seen him in here from time to time, writing away—they tried to go out of their way not to bother him whenever he was around. But now, he looked straight at them with those eyes that held far too much mystery and gave them an equally as gentle smile. 

“Good morning.” 

“Dude, it’s evening.” 

“No? Can’t you see that the sun is rising to the East?” 

“It’s going behind the buildings!”  

They bickered a bit while (Y/n) stood there dumbfounded at how adamant the man in the traditional clothing was that it was morning; they bit their lip and turned away, trying to keep a laugh to themselves so that they didn’t ruin the little game the man had set up. It was short-lived however, as Dice pointed towards them and turned the attention back to the problem at hand. 

“Whatever! You!” (Y/n) felt their eyebrow twitch at the suddenness of the action. “What if I absolutely blow your mind--” 

“It’s just 3000 yen, sir--”  

“You see, my friend here is a psychic. You probably could’ve noticed by the annoying way he talks...” 

Dice continued pitching his plea, ignoring (Y/n) as they had given up trying to remind him of his fee at this point. He wrapped an arm around his friend and continuously shook the poor man, the brunette swaying from side to side like a ghostly apparition, dramatically allowing himself to be tossed around. He would pat the man on the back so hard, (Y/n) thought maybe he’d fold over like a piece of paper; based on the way the brunette hyped up theatrics, (Y/n) could tell that he was simply playing his friend for a fool. They wondered, was it an apology show for them, or was he always like this with his friend? The corners of (Y/n) lips started to twitch as they desperately tried to keep their expression neutral. 

“Go on, show them something... psychic.”  

“Ah, yes. I can see it now. You will certainly find yourself at ease later this morning,” (Y/n) almost broke their character as he held his morning charade, “I can see... nothing but darkness. A pleasant weight upon you... your body relaxed and--” 

“You’re just telling them that they’ll sleep tonight!” Dice shouted, shaking the other man once more. “Wow them! Blow their mind! Get me out of this mess!” 

“I see... oh, I can see it! It’s coming to me now, I can see... I can see...” 

“Yeah, yeah?” 

“I can see that you’re going to find yourself in this mess again.” 

“Stop focusing on me!”  

They bickered once again, mostly on Dice’s part. (Y/n) covered their mouth and continued to turn away, snickering to themselves as the brunette took notice. With a gentle smile, he held out his hand to them, speaking in a way that seemed almost haunting but was obviously strained to seem mystical. 

“I can see clearly. 3... 7... 4... these numbers mean a lot to you, yet, they’ll be your ultimate downfall.” 

“Oh?” (Y/n) asked, now giving him their seemingly signature unamused attention. “Care to elaborate?” 

“Why, they’re numbers that will lead to unfortunate events and you’ll find your entire world crashing around you.” 

“Uh... huh. Anything specific?”  

“You’ll ultimately be led... to your DEATH.”  

“See! What did I tell you, a real class-a psychic!” Dice stepped in front of his friend who was still theatrically waving his hands at (Y/n) to put punctuation on his warning.  

“Sir, excuse me for not believing your... psychic... friend here, but it’s still 3000 yen. Impending death or not, I’d just like to get off of my shift.” 

Defeated, both of the men hunched their shoulders; Dice whined. His friend moved closer to (Y/n)’s podium and pulled his wallet out, begrudgingly paying the debt as Dice simply dragged his feet out the door. Just as monotone as the man in front of them, (Y/n) thanked him for his patronage and mumbled out another word of thanks for his help; he perked up a bit as he picked up on the last part. 

“Of course. I couldn’t have the likes of him desecrating a sacred place in which thou doth reside.” 

“Mm, fancy.” It took (Y/n) a moment to process what he had said and stiffened up, their face growing a bit warm. “O-oh... you mean because you come here sometimes to write and I make sure people leave you alone, right?” 

“I do appreciate thy own actions, but thine creativity flows much more fluidly whenever thou are around.” 

(Y/n)’s face started to grow warmer as he smiled at them, eyes closing gently to accentuate the kindness behind his... peculiar words; once (Y/n) truly processed what he had said, they scratched the back of their neck and gave a small, nervous smile. What were they supposed to say to that in the first place? They started to get a bit more nervous as he made sure to lightly brush their hand in the exchange of money; their eyes grew wide whenever his smile turned into a smirk, his own emerald ones looking at them from beneath his lashes.  

“By the way, I truly am a psychic,” he leaned in close and whispered, “the greatest psychic around—Gentaro the Psychic, if I may be so bold—and I’ll be hearing from you later this morning.” 

Utter confusion painted on their face, he gave their hand a small pat before turning his back to them, making his way towards the door that Dice had come back in from. 

“Ah, good morning, Dice.” 

“We’ve already gone through this—nevermind. What took you so long?” 

“Hm? Oh. The management was just telling me that you’re no longer welcome here. Ever. In fact, you’ll be escorted off of the premises. Next time you’re seen around here, you’ll be arrested.” 

“What!” Dice screeched, watching Gentaro as he smiled and walked nonchalantly out of the door. 

“T'was but a lie.” He waved his hand, both to dismiss Dice’s cry of agony and subtly wave to (Y/n) in the process. 

After a long process of loud commotion, (Y/n) finally got to watch the pain in their side leave and felt instant relief followed by a long, heavy sigh. They locked the doors, started cleaning the café and finally went to count the cash register’s drawer before finally being able to go home and simply call it a day. 

Bill after bill, (Y/n) made notes of the counts before stopping in their tracks; among everything was a piece of paper, holding a name and a phone number, and nervously shoved it into their pocket. Counting afterwards was an absolute nightmare as their mind continued to wander to green eyes, the flow of traditional clothes, and the way their heart fluttered each time they couldn’t help but laugh. 

Their fancy new festival clothes felt suffocating. 

It was as though they were having an out-of-body experience, the way they felt so disconnected from themselves; how they felt so out of breath.  

Maybe, just maybe, if they truly could have an out-of-body experience, it’d save them from the heartbreak that was crumbling to pieces in their chest. 

Were they really that foolish? To believe in the honeyed words of affection, to believe someone truly wanted to spend intimate time with them? They sat on a lonely bench a ways off from the twinkle of the festival lights and the joyful atmosphere; the sounds of laughter and fun taunting them as they sat and waited for someone who was never going to bother showing up. 

After an hour of false hope, (Y/n) started to smile through the warm tears that slid down their cheek. A fool, of course. Yet, they couldn’t will themselves off the bench and simply go home, wallow in private. No, they had to sit in shame, in agony, at how stupid they had been. How could they fail to see the smirk behind the culprit's eyes as he asked for a date? How could they miss the quiet snicker behind his words? (Y/n) wouldn’t be surprised if he had secretly come by earlier to revel in the misery he had caused. 

A warm hand on their shoulder startled them out of wallowing in self-pity. A small yelp was echoed by another that didn’t belong to them; (Y/n) had to blink and wash away some tears before they could make out who had been standing in front of them. 

“I... I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you, (Y/n).”  

Once their vision cleared, they could see the tall, long-haired boy they’ve come to be close with. Jyushi stood in front of them, hair tied back and festival clothes dressed up to be on-brand for his style. How could he be standing here, now of all times? Now they felt even worse, knowing they were pathetically sitting there, stood up, and now equally as pathetically crying over it. Their tears started to fall harder, unable to contain them; they tried time and time again to aggressively wipe their eyes, but they simply kept coming. 

“Ahh! I’m sorry, (Y/n)! I’m sorry!” His soft voice was wavering a bit as he panicked, unsure of what to do. 

Jyushi looked around desperately, trying to find something—anything—to help or to explain what was happening. He waved his hands around, then his arms, to try and simply dispel whatever bad aura was hanging around them that had been making them so heartbroken. Once the tears started to slow down, (Y/n) hiccupped, trying to get their breathing back to normal as Jyushi finally took a deep breath of his own and sat down next to them; he timidly put his hand back on their shoulder, lightly, to not frighten them again. 

“I… I really didn’t mean to scare you (Y/n)! Especially that badly—” 

“No no,” they sniffled, wiping their eyes one final time before glancing at him, only for their eyes to hand on their clasped hands in their lap, “it wasn’t you. It’s fine.” 

“If it wasn’t me then… what’s wrong?” 

“It’s… nothing.” They waved their hand a bit, hoping to wave off the topic as well as his worry. “Really, I’m fine.” 

“That didn’t look fine at all.” 

They glanced over to their friend and had to still their beating heart at how lovely he looked—determined, concerned, caring. They looked back at their hands and bit the inside of their cheek, how could they not tell him? When he looked at them like that, with the fire in his eyes and his compassion in his words? Taking a deep breath, they tried their hardest not to let their voice waver, or let tears well up in their eyes—which was a challenge within itself. 

“It’s just some… stupid guy. He invited me to this festival and I accepted. I was stupid enough to think he liked me.” They groaned and dug their palms into their eyes, throwing their head back in frustration as they tried to keep the tears at bay, “Of course he didn’t like me! He just wanted to make fun of me—and I was so desperate to feel wanted that I was blind to it! I’m stupid! A fool! Who would like me? I’m an idiot for thinking otherwise!” 

“Please stop.” 

(Y/n) took a heavy breath before moving their hands so they could see him. Jyushi had an indescribable look in his eyes, but anger—or was it frustration?—on his brow. He almost pouted, the way he stuck his bottom lip out in disapproval.  

“Stop saying all that. Stop saying all that about yourself!” 

Jyushi shook his head, now balling his fists up. He suddenly stood up, leaving (Y/n) staring at him with confusion and awe on their face, unsure of how they should react. They silently listened as he almost shouted his rant into the space between them. 

“You aren’t stupid! HE’S stupid! How could someone be so—so mean! So heartless! Especially to someone like you—to you!” 

Jyushi started to pace back and forth within a little space in front of (Y/n) and the bench they sat on, animatedly throwing his hands around to accentuate just how ridiculous he found the perpetrator. 

“You’re so amazing! You’re so kind, and sweet, and beautiful, and adorable—you’re perfect! You’re so funny, and fun to talk to, and—and so accepting and open and caring; what an idiot—what an idiot! HE’s the idiot! How dare someone so… so… nasty! How dare someone so nasty play with your heart like that! Your feelings! He’s missing out, he’s definitely missing out. I could never imagine ever hurting you like that—I WON’T hurt you like that, actually. I’ll never take you for granted; he’s stupid!” 

Jyushi finally realized how his emotions had taken over and flushed with embarrassment. Whipping his head towards (Y/n), he fully prepared himself for various forms of reaction to his sudden, unprompted, and emotional confession—what he wasn’t prepared for, however, was to find them staring at him with wide eyes, tears streaming down their face. 

“I…I’m so sorry, (Y/n)!” He quickly sat back down, his hands moving up and down, trying to decide if he should wipe their tears or not. “I didn’t mean to make things worse—” 

“No no,” they waved him off again, giving a sense of déjà vu, “it’s fine.” 

They looked back up to him with a gentle smile on their face, holding their hands out to grab his carefully and reassure him. Jyushi gave a sigh of relief when he saw the smile on their lips, subconsciously leaning in just a bit to them. 

“They’re happy tears this time, really.” 

“Are… you sure?” 

“Yeah, definitely sure.” They ran their thumbs lightly over Jyushi’s knuckles. “Thank you, that all really meant a lot—especially since I’ve never seen you that worked up.” 

Jyushi awkwardly chuckled, the blush starting to creep up the back of his neck. His face only got warmer as he found a new burst of confidence to speak again once he cleared his throat. 

“Well… I’m here…” He emphasized. “I… like you. Do you want to check out the stalls with me instead?” 

His timid smile turned to one of utter joy as (Y/n) nodded their head, a genuine smile now gracing their lips and lighting up their beautiful face. He wasted no time in standing up and interlacing his fingers with their, making sure to pull them along with him towards the rows of stalls. 

Behind him, festival lights danced and twinkled like stars amongst the night. The moon illuminated his figure in a way (Y/n) could only think of as a loving, graceful reminder that there will always be a light in the dark to guide you home, no matter how lost you may feel. Here, tonight, Jyushi was the warmth of home that they needed, that they longed for—maybe he would be the light that always beckoned them home, that reminded them all was going to be alright; they didn’t know.  

He could feel the breeze on his face, and it smelt distinctly like salt. The light was bright enough he could see it through his eyelids, so he didn’t bother opening his eyes to see it; Nanami knew he needed to take a vacation, but this was a stretch. A heavy breath and the salt in the air burnt his lungs. The sun warmed his skin, and he could feel the sand beneath his body—it was harder than he expected. He should relax. He cleared his mind, took another breath, and let his body go limp. 

Well, he tried.  

Something kept his body tense; something in the back of his mind told him that now wasn’t the time for a visit to the beach-- that he needed to open his eyes. Whatever was keeping him anxious was certainly annoying... but, was it important? It had to have been. How did he get here in the first place? 

Things were hazy. Where was he last? Underground. He was annoyed—not unusual—but what about? All he could remember at the moment was that he was underground. More than likely the train station, but which one? He grabbed a handful of sand and focused on letting it slowly flow through his grip, hoping the soft, rhythmic feeling would help him ground himself—help him focus. Even his thoughts were erratic, disjointed, and very out of character for him; irritating. 

Now that his breathing was under control, he focused a bit more; letting the water now lap gently around his body though he didn’t feel like he got wet. He could feel...a sense of unease—like something was there and it was malicious—so there had to have been curses around. That’s right, he started to remember that he was on some sort of mission; a mission to hunt curses in an underground station, still far too vague. He remembered another person was by his side, but a quick search with his outstretched hands and he turned up empty.  

Something felt like it was missing from his chest. The person he was missing was important, he could feel it; there were others too, right? Yeah—he drew his eyebrows together, hoping that by focusing that hard, he’d be able to start to see shapes if not even faces of those who were supposed to be around him. If he focused enough, maybe he’d see something that would remind him where he was. It surprisingly seemed to work. 

Nanami could make out a vague figure—no, two—maybe more. There was another figure looming not too far off; it flickered like a flame, slowly dying out. The ocean wind started kicking up, gusts strong enough to make him wonder if he was going to get carried away with it; it started to feel like chaos. Was this dream starting to turn to a nightmare? 

The winds kept picking up speed, but the sun felt like it was getting closer. His body kept heating up; he started sweating uncomfortably despite the heavy winds surrounding him. Where was he? Why was he here? It was starting to make him incredibly angry. The sun was getting brighter and brighter, and covering his eyes with his arm did nothing to protect him from the impeding light and rising heat.  

Beyond the wind, he could hear a faint voice calling out. He couldn’t tell what they were saying, or really what they sounded like, but he could feel the familiarity crawl up his spine each time the voice carried. He waited, trying his best to block out the sounds of the winds and catch the voice. It sounded desperate, pained; it was calling out his name. It sounded sweet to his ears, the melody of it dancing around in his mind, his heart flipping like a fish out of water—despite the state of fear it sounded to be in. The voice felt a bit closer, like it was waiting—like it needed—him to open his eyes, but he couldn’t. The moment he heard his name loud and clear, as though his love were right next to him, he snapped out of it. 

A vacation? The beach? This wasn’t where he should be. The heat started to get unbearable—he felt like he was burning. The sun was getting closer and closer still—he didn’t want to see it. He wasn’t ready to see it. It was getting hard to breathe; he needed to open his eyes. He needed to see them; he had things he still needed to say. He wasn’t ready to die yet. 

That’s where he was. Shibuya, the mission. He remembered the fight, the pain, the fear—his own death. He died. Did he? He did. Was he sure? It was getting far too hot, far too bright—he wasn’t ready. 

He opened his mouth—it was dry—and tried to call out. His voice was hoarse, calling for the ones he remembered were near—other sorcerers, his love, anyone he could think of. He started to panic, it was unlike him to get so openly worked up, but he wasn’t ready. He had more to do, more to see, more love to give. He heard their voice calling him again; he needed to open his eyes. 

The sun was relentless, unforgiving, and just plain painful. He gritted his teeth for a while before it finally got too close, and he let out a loud scream. Everything had been building up out of fear, and it was crashing around him now. He can’t die, not here, not now. He can’t. He hears them calling again and reaches out blindly for them, trying to find them amongst the light. He can’t be dead. He can’t. He-- 

A sharp intake of air left him choking, sputtering. His body was feverish, but he no longer felt the heat. He heard (Y/n)’s voice clear as day this time—felt them holding onto him too. He reached for them, pulling himself up from the ground and finally opened his eyes. In front of him wasn’t the sun nor beach, but the place he wanted to be the most—their arms.  

Nanami could see them speaking, he assumed they were asking if he was alright, but he couldn’t hear them anymore. The racing of his heart filled his ears, both adrenaline and love fueled the action, and it wouldn’t settle for a while. He pulled them close—a hand on the back of their head guided them to the crook of his neck while the other wrapped around them to pull the rest of their body close—and whispered hasty little words of assurance. He felt their body collapse, shoulders shaking as they let out a cry they must have been holding in out of fear. A quick look around let him know they were out of danger for the moment, so he consoled them until they had gotten it all out. 

Pulling away just slightly, Nanami wiped away (Y/n)’s stray tears, still a bit disoriented and fearful himself. He spoke softly. 

“(Y/n).” 

“I thought you died, Nanami.” (Y/n)’s voice broke. “You... You were on the floor before I could get to you and--” 

“Shh,” he ran his hand through their hair, hushing them gently, “let’s not focus on that. I’m here. I’m alive.” 

“Yeah... yeah.” They nodded, wiping their own tears on their sleeve before giving him a large, relieved smile. “You are.” 

Nanami wiped away one more stray tear before moving to hold their face in his hands, rubbing his thumbs softly over their cheekbones. He watched them sink into his hands, holding his wrists as though he’d disappear if they were to let go. Their eyes closed and their expression turned soft, relaxed, turning their head ever so slightly to kiss the palm of his hand. His expression turned equally as soft, a smile ghosting his lips. His voice cracked as he broke the comfortable silence. 

“I’m sorry.”  

They shook their head slightly, nestling further into one of his hands and looked up at him through their lashes.  

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

“I could’ve done more. I could’ve protected you.” 

“That wasn’t your focus—it wasn’t supposed to be your focus, Kento.” 

“It should have been.” He leaned in closer to them, leaning his forehead against theirs and closing his eyes with a sigh. “I want to protect you.”  

(Y/n) opened their eyes and studied his face. He looked so tired, ready to collapse at any moment for a much needed rest. They scanned over everything—his eyelashes, the bridge of his nose, the curve of his lips—anything they could so that they could commit his image to their memory, as if they haven’t already. They leaned in and gave the tip of his nose a very small kiss. 

“I want to take care of you.” It was barely over a whisper. 

He gave a little huff, but the upturn of his lips let them know it was the ghost of a laugh. Nanami finally closed the gap between them, taking their lips with his own in a careful, loving kiss. Nanami was never much of a talker, so he did his best to let them know with his actions just how much he loved them—how thankful he was for them. He thought back to the beach; the sound of their voice piercing through the chaotic winds and how it brought him home—how home was never really home if they weren’t there. He never wanted to feel the fear of leaving them again—the fear of feeling like he’d never tell them he loved them enough. Whenever they parted, he made sure they looked him in the eyes, a genuine smile replacing the tingling loneliness their lips had left on his own. 

☆ x reader/mc/(y/n) (or character centric). usually omniscient pov or third person pov, usually not beta-read

☆request one thing at a time! if you have more than one, send more than one (just dont spam!)

☆headcanons: 3-4 characters per request ☆scenarios/imagines: up to 2 characters per request ☆oneshot/drabble/fic (whatever name you prefer): 1 character per request (reader/mc does not count as an additional character)

☆romantic, platonic, angst, character centric (as in, not x reader), au’s, etc. are all welcomed. be as specific as you can though or i’ll default to what comes to mind first!

☆you can ask for nsfw but you will be linked/redirected to kuraitsu, multimedia writing nsfw tag will be “hidden chapter”.

☆NO NSFW OF MINORS. ages of characters will be judged by me if they’re ambiguous. puppy/innocent love between character and a reader assumed to be in their age range is okay (i have younger siblings. i get it. yall need a safe intro to fandom. im willing to help LKJSDFH)

☆WILL NOT WRITE: inc*st, oc content (you can talk to me about your oc/mc x character though!! i have some too,,), r*pe, adult x minor; i never know my limits about nsfw topics so youre free to ask but if i decide im too uncomfortable ill have to politely decline!

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keep in mind: 

☆triggers/specific items/themes will be tagged. if i miss one that you feel is important/you need, (kindly) let me know! I’m only one person im bound to miss something LKJSDFH

☆reader/mc/etc. are assumed to be the same age/around (maybe a year difference, give or take) as the requested character unless specifically stated (ex. two (consenting adults) with an age gap, or say... a non-human x human reader).

☆the more characters there are in a request, the less writing/quality you’ll get of each character.

☆gender neutral is the default. pronouns used are they/them. male/female specific body types will be specified if the need arises (but will be tagged accordingly!)

☆check the masterlist/current list for fandoms i’ve written for/will accept! im open to anything/any fandom, you can shoot your shot and see if it sticks

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all writings posted belong to ©kitsu(ani) and may not be reposted anywhere outside of kitsu’s personal accounts unless stated otherwise.

colour key:

ani/manga || multi-media (drama/anime/manga/etc.)

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Jujutsu Kaisen

☆ Vacation Blues. {Nanami Kento x Reader} ☆ Distraction. {Nanami Kento x Reader}

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