#nanashoko

Higunanashoko shenanigans

he hasn't seen the three of them in years, and he's not even certain that he's even uttered their names out loud ever since shoko left the campus by herself one day to join her two runaway classmates, never to return. he doesn't know what to think or to feel, and he's too tired to come up with a decision on the spot when the doors suddenly crack apart and satoru's sleep-stricken face stares back at him from between them. neither of them completely comprehend the other's existence or reality, but kento reeks of fatigue and he moves like his bones haven't had a minute's rest throughout the six years they haven't seen each other, so he lets him in without a question. it's not like kento would be able to answer it anyway, they both know it, and despite all the commotion from the large family of believers followers friends they've gathered between the ancient walls of the deserted temple, satoru takes the initiative to lead kento into one of their empty and clean rooms and just gestures him towards the bed. this moment makes history as the first and the last time grade one sorcerer nanami kento has ever obeyed an order directly from curse user gojo satoru, but then again none of these names or titles matter at that moment. and as kento's back sinks against the bed, eyes closing the moment he does as if he's been waiting for this his entire life, he barely hears the commotion outside the door satoru has just walked out from and closed after himself: "nothing to worry about, he's an old friend of ours. one we have repeatedly told that he was welcome to join us whenever he wanted, at that, and you guys must be out of your minds if you think i'd keep him out — suguru would kill me personally the minute he found out. plus, haven't you seen the state he's in? let him rest."

what's wrong with the state i'm in, kento wants to bite back, pick a fight, something or honestly anything at this point, but he's too beaten down. let him rest. he can pick a fight with gojo in the morning, when he's rested. probably get himself killed at the end of it, too, or maybe even halfway through the fight depending on how dire the situation is. he doesn't know how far down the rabbit hole gojo has spiraled into after all. all he's been told was that he was crazy now, murderous, chasing an unattainable goal, hurting innocents, defying the only honor code of a jujutsu sorcerer and not protecting the weak, blindly eating up whatever insanity it is that geto feeds him. their words, not kento's. kento hasn't said a word about them, not to anyone, not even to himself behind closed doors. aw, don't tell me the wound still fresh after five whole years, nanami!

morning comes, not as quick as he thought it would, after a dark and blank seven hours of sleep. his body wouldn't be able to withstand any more, he knows, not after surviving on three or four hours a night for the past five years anyway, but he feels rested by the time sunlight peers through his eyelashes. somebody has brought him food and placed it beside the door, probably too afraid to disturb him after gojo's obvious threats from the previous night, and kento's nerves are so tense that even the sight of the first tray consisting of a traditional japanese breakfast option and the other having all kinds of his favorite bread (FRESHLY BAKED, TOO!) with a small cup of butter and jam on the side is almost enough to make him cry. he does wonder if it could be poisoned, but eventually decides that he doesn't care even if it is and clears both trays, fast and desperate as a dog.

the bed's comfortable and warm against his back as he snacks on the last piece of jam-coated bread, when the door quietly slides open and a familiar face peers through the cracks. down-turned and heavily-hooded eyes, the color of rust, and the crying mole stationed just beneath one of them. curse user ieiri shoko walks into the room with such grace that kento is taken aback by how much he's missed seeing her drift from one corner to another like a tall and lanky ghost, now taller than he remembered her to be, that he thinks he'll cry about this too but he manages not to. she wears a simple field attire, comfortable pants and a plain black hippari. her nails are still painted in an even coat of black nail polish, but her long hair has been put into a messy ponytail. she doesn't say anything outright at first, just gestures a question of permission to enter to kento which he accepts before he even thinks about the answer, and makes herself comfortable at the foot of his bed.

permanent eyebags, a ghost of purple pressed against her lower lashlines when she smiles gently, but mostly faded after years of these nights of full rests. compared to the mental image kento had of her for all these years, shoko looks healthy. "we have more of that bread, you know."

"i'm good, thank you."

"are you really? you look like a victorian orphan clinging onto that last bite. i'm just saying there's no need to nibble on it fifty times when we made a fresh batch just this morning for you."

"are you saying you contributed to the process of making of this bread?"

"i'm exaggerating my personal contribution, of course, but i've watched suguru knead the dough and satoru braid the individual strands enough times to spot a butchered loaf even before it goes into the oven. doesn't that count?"

kento throws the last piece of the bread into his mouth to keep himself from tearing up, cheeks chunky and mouth full as he chews through it with enough passion to strike eros down, and just nods. shoko smiles, whistles a tune towards the door and before kento knows it, an urban legend is handing out another tray full of fresh bread and butter and jam towards him. "it's good to see you, ieiri-san. you look well."

"likewise, nanami-kun, but i wish i could say the same about you," shoko says quietly, and fishes out a blue pack of cigarettes from between the layers of her hippari. she passes it towards him first, lets him pick a stick out and hands out a familiar pink lighter right after it. kento lets ashes pile up at the tip of it more than he brings it closer to his lips to inhale it, but the most fun part is watching shoko go through an entire stick in an almost ritualistic manner. the pale hands of a healer, dancing before his eyes, making his old scars ache and twinge with remembrance. "what have they done to you, for you to finally take our offer into consideration after five entire years of avoiding us like the plague?"

"i haven't taken your offer into consideration," kento is quick to reply, almost too quick even for his own liking, but shoko doesn't recoil or raise her eyebrows. inhales and exhales, pursing her lips to the side so the cloud of smoke doesn't bother kento. waits for him, lets him know she's ready to meet him where he wants to stop along the distance between the two of them. "i just needed to get away. for a little while, at least."

"you're welcome to stay and rest for as long as you want," shoko replies, then flicks her ashes down on the palm of her other hand. "honestly, you could stay for the rest of your life and not be a part of our cause. we'd take good care of you without asking for anything in return. not even for your loyalty, honestly, but suguru would probably not want me disclose that information right away, so you haven't heard that one from me."

kento shoves another piece of jammed bread into his mouth because his throat feels like shoko's words are wrapping around it, squeezing tight and piercing through skin like layers of barbed wire. muffled, he scoffs: "do i really look that miserable?"

"even more than that," shoko agrees, but her eyes are gentle and kind as they flicker across his face. he feels crushed beneath the weight of that kindness, because this wasn't supposed to be like this at all, she was supposed to be crazy too, just like getoandgojo or gojoandgeto were are. "i never properly apologized to you for leaving you behind back then. i've regretted ever since, you know. i knew you wouldn't come with me, but you deserved a better treatment from us. from me, especially."

okay, you know what? fuck this shit. no amount of pieces of bread shoved in his mouth could keep the faucets in his eyes from turning on when she's doing this, because maybe she is actually a master manipulator just like they said she was, because maybe she actually does know how to pull on his strings the best, because maybe she would use it against him that they were the only ones left on campus for an entire eight months, after haibara died and getoandgojo or getoandgojo went coo-coo bananas, because maybe she is dangerous and maybe he is crazy but does she have to look at him that way, like he cares for her, like the older sister he'd always seen in her? this is beyond cruel.

"it's alright," she says, and then nothing else as she waits him and his tears and sobs out, quietly smoking through her cigarette and then two more as he shoves piece after piece into his mouth, all stupid and hopeful. it feels like chewing glass. she knows when to look at him, because he's glad that someone notices the pain, and she knows when to look away, because he loathes himself for being as vulnerable as he is in front of someone else — in front of a goddamned curse user at that!

birds chirp outside the window, the one to his left behind the bed. he hadn't actually listened to a birdsong in so long that it feels surreal, being trapped in this moment in time. and the raspberry jam tastes so nice, tart and sweet at the same time — was life always this beautiful? how long has it been since he's seen the sun, felt the wind on his skin and hair?

"i'll ask for a favor, ieiri-san," sighs kento, shaky and dashed as he chews on another piece of bread and looks up at the young woman in front of him through red-rimmed eyes and damp cheeks. his eyelashes have clumped and stuck together, and he feels five years old. "and just for this favor only."

"whatever you need, nanami-kun."

"convince me," shoko's eyes remain on him and him only, another half-cigarette trapped between her index and middle fingers, polished thumbnail tapping against the filter. "give me five reasons why i shouldn't join you. why i should ignore the fact that you're hurting innocents, that you're defying the one rule of being a sorcerer which is to protect the weak in a way that only we can do, that you've all lost your minds to chase after an unattainable goal and chose to live out the rest of your wasted lives on the run. why i should ignore my own conscience for selfish reasons, why i should let the new generation of sorcerer children suffer just as much as we did, just to spend the rest of my days resting when i want to, eating when i want to. why i should become a slave to this hedonistic life you've chosen when i could be doing something meaningful out there, like — like saving lives, nurturing the younger generation, contributing to our inevitable and neverending goal of ridding the world of the evil that comes from curses."

shoko stays quiet for a while, wise eyes taking their sweet time to dance across his face as she thinks his words through. ashes pile up at the tip of the cigarette between her fingers, palm of her hand resting against her chin and teeth slightly nibbling on the inside of her bottom lip as she waits for him to catch his breath. "and i want you to be the one to convince me, because i know those two must have lost their fucking minds — he massacred an entire village, the women and the children too, and he just blindly followed him out into it like a fucking lunatic the same day. but you? you stayed for another eight months. you worked, you healed countless people during that time, and one day you just left and i never believed for a single moment that they left you behind as a potential spy or that you waited until they realized they forgot you behind — i never bought that bullshit. you had an entire eight months to think, to make a choice. you must've thought this out. you must've found at least five reasons not to join them. hell, you probably found fifty more reasons during the five years you've been with them — i mean, how annoying must they be when there's literally no one to keep them in check? convince me not to betray myself, i beg you, because i might regret it later on and drag you all down with me if i do."

shoko thinks for a couple of more seconds, then pulls her feet up on the bed, tucking herself tight into a cross-legged position and slouching until she comfortably presses her elbows on the pudgy skin beside her bent knees. kento notices her fuzzy pink socks only then, clashing with the rest of her traditional attire harshly and yet reminding him all over again that she was only eighteen when she left her dorm room with just a backpack slung across her shoulder that day. her sidebangs fall over her eyes and she tucks them behind her ear, whistles another tune and another urban legend slides across the floor to join them. she instructs the curse that she doesn't want to be bothered by anyone, not even the curse's master or gojo-sama, while she is in this room and kindly requests another pack of cigarettes, with a plate of grapes and some more bread. it leaves as quickly as it came, and shoko picks out the last cigarette from her pack and spins the pink lighter around her fingers right before she looks up at grade one sorcerer nanami kento.