#daikomyo

maybe, nanami thinks, ieri has seen some clarity in the reflection of the glass of water he has slid her way in place of an emptied canned beer. his ministrations over the kitchen’s sink don’t falter, but he lets the cold stream dampen his skin for just a bit longer after the last dish is washed. inviting her for dinner at his apartment has never been frequent enough to call it a routine exactly, and it is about to become even more scarce now. something like melancholy blooms on him, a quiet mourning for a moment that hasn't even left him. he glances at her, then.

“i suppose it was a matter of time.” returning fully to jujutsu tech as their head doctor, he means. he runs through the facts plainly: the burden of a reverse cursed technique is so great, it is the kind of thing the higher-ups wouldn’t give up. and yet, nanami can only see the lines of her shoulders, the darkened skin under her eyes, the dark of her eyes, and the unthinkable images only she has seen. he stops the faucet.

the     predicament         was     as     such     :               ᵗʰᵉ     ᶠᵃˡˡ     ᵒᶠ      sᵘᵍᵘʳᵘ     ᵍᵉᵗᵒ     had     forced     open     a     night     filled     with     the     most     odious     of     curses.     lining     his     simpering          with     the     lives     of     𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠     𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐫𝐬     𝐧𝐨𝐭     𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐧     on     forgoing     the     rights     of     the     less     fortunate.     she     had     come     to     be     one     of     them     ,     lying          herself     INTO     COMBAT     WITH     A     SKILLSET     THAT     LAY     DRY     -     unused     for     she     had     been     sheltered     in     fear     that     she     would     become     like     her     father.      ᵃ     ᶠᵒᵒˡ      wᵃⁿᵗⁱⁿᵍ     ᵗᵒ     ᵇᵉ     ᵃ      hᵉʳᵒ     when     he     should     have     asked     for     help.          and     in     result          she     had     been     bitten     by     curse,          𝙨𝙤     𝙙𝙚𝙚𝙥     𝙝𝙚𝙧     𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙𝙚𝙧     𝙗𝙤𝙣𝙚     𝙬𝙖𝙨     𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙚𝙙.          she     was     whimpering     now     -          the     healing     of     her     cursed     technique     leaving     and          SPACING     HER     INTO     STARS     AND     SPINS     .          unknowing     of     what     was     right     and     up     to     down     and     left.          

The soft crinkle of thin plastic being shuffled around echoed with her footsteps in the dark, empty hallway. Three bags, filled to the brim with drinks and snacks, swung from her delicate wrists, back and forth, back and forth, at a lively pace as she hurried through. Jangmi carried several heavy books with a notebook and pencil case balanced on the top of the stack. She turned slightly once she reached the doorway to the art studio, shoving her hip into the ajar door to more fully open it.

"Ugh," came her soft, exhausted grunt when she reached the one table with any space on it. First she deposited her stack of books on it, shoving some brushes, drying palettes, canvas frames, and paint tubes out of the way. Once she was sure the books wouldn't top over onto the floor from their somewhat precarious position on the edge, she sighed, "There!" She then set the bags down on the floor, putting her hands on her hips once they were free of the weight.

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Something about the shoping in Shibuya always had them coming back. Whether it was the quality or the prices of the items, they weren't sure. More than likely, it had something to do with the shoplifting. And it was better to get it out of the way now as opposed to after whatever it was Getou had planned. Security would likely be cracked down hard, and Teneda had very little interest in Getou's end goal.

"Get out of my way, you raggedy bitch," they hissed, dropping a shoulder heavy with bags of mostly stolen merchandise into the woman's back. The cursed energy was unmistakable, as they had met in passing years ago. Teneda hadn't forgotten it since their time at school. With a wicked smile, they glanced back at her.

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"Shoko?" she whispered, doing her best to stay undetected after curfew. "Shoko! Open up!"

It wouldn't be unrealistic for Shoko to have been in bed. She had just gotten done with the Kyoto Goodwill Event, and a reasonable person would let her sleep. Daigo, however, was not a reasonable person. She was excited and curious and persistent. As any reasonable first year should be.

"Shoko! You said you'd tell me all about it and I brought snacks! Let me innnn!" Still silence on the other side of the door. No doubt Shoko was going to hold off until morning.

..

In the face of the gentle onslaught of care, she is quiet, the flutter of pale lashes betraying the surprise that seized her. It is short lived ; the words wash over her like warm water, coaxing her lips into a small smile as eyelids close, quietly basking in the comfort that envelopes her.

❝ Okāsan. ❞ Such a large word, yet it sits on her tongue before she even realises, falling past her lips softly without the drawl of irritation one might expect from a teenager, but carrying the same meaning as a response to her questions.

Yes, I am trying, I'm okay. I love you too.

❝ I'd like that. . . Can I keep some in your office for lunch times ? ❞