time out
A/N: This chapter started with the idea of exhaustion (because I am exhausted and my exhaustion is 24/7 now), and a part of it was originally posted on Tumblr.
I guess this is long for a chapter, but eh. Work has been really terrible lately. My schedule consists of working, crying over work, sleeping during what little time I have left, and the occasional Tokyo Revenger spree.
Kento doesn't pine. He struggles, trudges, flounders, and eventually falls.
AKA: Kento Nanami doesn't want a lot of things in life, but he wants her (in it).
Lunch is... uneventful.
Not because he thought of it as anything else, but because she rode on her bike and told him she couldn't stay.
"Sorry, K– Nanami-san." She said, just after removing her helmet, "I got an alert while I was on the way."
But she didn't get off the bike, and continued talking, "But I'll still treat you to lunch, so you can..."
She paused then, realizing something.
"Are you comfortable with riding?"
What–
"It isn't far from here, but it's faster on bike."
No– Well... Well, he did think he'd like to walk with her for a while.
"So are you..." she stumbled on the word, "...okay with riding backseat?"
With her? With her... driving?
"It's no worry." He replied then, "You're in a hurry, anyway."
She frowned, "Sorry I got your hopes up."
She didn't, but he couldn't tell her that, could he?
"It's just lunch." He continued, "Next time."
She chuckled, "Was the mapo tofu that bad?"
It wasn't, not really. Just...
"–not to my taste, but I'm grateful nonetheless."
She smiled then, big and beaming, and he could hear the sound of relief that came with it.
"You're too kind, Nanami-san."
No, he–
"An honest mistake." He reassured her, "Don't worry about it."
"Tell you what," she realigned the bike to the road, ready to speed off, "You pick the place next time, and I'll see you then."
She put the helmet back on and gave a single wave goodbye, before speeding off onto the road. He looks
So, yes. Lunch is uneventful, moderately flavorful, and not a complete waste of time. He wondered a little about when she went, driving off in that vintage-looking motorcycle of hers. He knew she'd go on exorcisms and purification rituals outside of Tokyo nearly every week, calling them "family errands" when it was really much more than that.
Her family is descended from a line of onmyoji, those diviners and soothsayers from the ancient times, who act on behalf of the sacred gods. But it wasn't any secret either, it was common knowledge already. But it was as if he was the last to know, like it was something he was either supposed to know already or not know at all.
But he found out anyway, through the best (or worst?) person.
"Ya know what this is, Nanamin?"
Gojo waved a small keychain in front of him.
"It's a Buddha."
"Yeah, but which one?"
He shrugs. "I don't know."
Gojo frowned. "What did she get you?"
"The same."
He looked at the keychain, it was small, handcrafted and painted by hand. It was... cute, if he had anything to say about it. But it was an unexpected gift, especially from her, since they'd only known each other for a week or so. She isn't obligated to give him anything, but... But the thought is nice. Friendly.
"A maneki-neko!" Gojo began to whine, "No fair."
It was a lucky charm, at least, that's what its supposed purpose is. Kento has never really relied on such things, and he's never really believed in those superstitions and those stories. World of sorcery and the supernatural aside, luck is something that isn't tied to either the natural or supernatural world. It is a concept, plain and simple. It is an idea, man-made, artificial, and unreal.
"You can have it if you want, senpai."
And besides that, the smiling, colorful maneki-neko doesn't suit him. But he isn't bitter about it, it's the thought that counts anyways. And if she thinks he can do with a bit more luck in his life, well... Well, she isn't completely wrong, but... But–
"Hmm, nah. Wouldn't be fair to her."
Since when did he care about fairness?
"These things've got sacred energy imbued in 'em, 'ya know?"
Sacred... energy?
Kento has only heard of it once before.
"Oh, I didn't tell you!" Gojo laughed, "She's from a line of onmyodo..."
Kento knows by heart that Gojo only talks about the onmyoji to shit on them and their holier-than-thou attitudes. And he's only ever heard Gojo talk about Abe no Seimei and the onmyoji when he's out to make fun of them. During the Heian period, the height of jujutsu sorcery, there was the onmyoji, who stood higher than any sorcerer and stood closer to the Emperor than any sorcerer could even dream of.
"They were considered gods, Nanamin, actual, literal gods walking among men!"
"Like you, you mean?"
"Did you just flatter me, Nanamin? Say it again!"
So when he finds out that she, of all people, comes from this line of arrogant, ancient onmyoji, he can't really say he's miffed by it. After all, the Gojo clan descended from a man who became known as one of Japan's Three Great Demons. And his senior, childish mischief-making aside, doesn't seem to be hell-bent on taking revenge on the world.
"...a real ancient one, but not, like, the big guy, Abe no Seimei, but his rival. What's his name? Ashi... Ashiya... Ashley?"
"Ashiya Doman." He corrects.
The name is familiar, but distant. And he wonders himself too, why he could remember such a thing. The lesson on the history of jujutsu and onmyodo wasn't anything discussed in depth, or anything that struck him deep enough to consider staying in the jujutsu world, and not seek a life of less sadness and less death.
But now, years and years later, he finds himself back in this world, one which might have been inescapable from the start.
"Yeah, him." Gojo shrugs, "Sore loser and all that."
Now, he's back in the world of spirits, often caught between his carefree senior and the secret evils hiding in the shadows of human beings.
"Just a little something for everyone," he remembers her saying earlier that day, "for luck?"
She had just returned from Hokkaido, and she brought with her several bags of what looked to be souvenir items.
"I got what you asked for, Ieri-senpai."
"Thanks, these are a bitch to get in Tokyo."
...most of which were just for Shoko.
"Hey, no fair, Shoko! She's my junior, 'ya know."
"Says the one who wanted a specialty snack box."
"They're authentic!"
He looks at the maneki-neko and thinks it doesn't suit him, not at all.
But maybe–maybe, some part of him wants to hope–that perhaps the maneki-neko was meant for him to have. After all, the maneki-neko symbolized good fortune and luck. And even after all this time, he still has the keychain with him. Whether in his breast pocket or dangling from one of the hoops on his pants. It's a little thing he likes keeping because... he likes to think of it as something that actually has purpose. If it emits a small ward to fend off curses and cursed energy, then why not make use of it?
Unfortunately, it doesn't feel like the maneki-neko can bring in luck. Or maybe it's not enough. The lunch she owed him was postponed, at least until she returns to Tokyo. It seems she'll be out for a few days, but it's no big issue. Tokyo is safe enough without her, anyway.
Eventually, he hears of a Grade 1 curse in Kabukicho. But Kabukicho is her "territory", as if that concept existed for jujutsu sorcerers. Sure, Kabukicho is a loud and brash district, and curses tend to flock in places like it, but Grade 1 curses don't appear too often.
And a nikusui, yokai which are found in the mountainous provinces... Why are they in the city?
Gojo sends him a text.
There's a nikusui hiding in Kabukicho. Think 'ya can handle it, Nanamin?
So it's true that she hasn't–
She's on the way back from Osaka.
Osaka? What was she doing–
Should be there in half an hour, I guess.
On motorbike? How fast is she riding?
'Ya can meet'er there!
He doesn't know why Gojo is bothering him (and her) with a mission like that. Search-and-destroy missions are... fun, or at least they used to be, are supposed to be, but he doesn't have the patience or the energy to go hunt for a Grade 1 in Kabukicho. And to make things worse, it just had to be Kabukicho, didn't it? He was unfamiliar with the place, and sending him there would do more harm than good.
But she, on the other hand... She knew Kabukicho, didn't she?
And... Gojo knew Kabukicho too, and frequented it more than anyone else he knew, so–
Why don't you handle it yourself, senpai?
It would be easy, so easy, for Gojo, wouldn't it?
I'm not in Tokyo.
Oh, well, that's not really an excuse, was it?
I'm nowhere near Japan, actually.
Where was he? In the middle of the ocean?
So handle it, okay? I'll see 'ya when I get back, Nanamin!
He doesn't have a choice, does he? There's a dangerous Grade 1 that suddenly appeared in one of the busiest districts in Tokyo, and the supposedly guardian is nowhere near it. The nikusui is a carnivorous yokai, and if left alone, could easily cause havoc in a place like Kabukicho. After all, jujutsu sorcerers are the protectors of all humankind, and a spirit like the nikusui shouldn't be too hard to find and deal with.
But, Kento realizes, five drinks and three awkward rejections later (with him as the actor), this nikusui is special.
Domain Expansion.
This nikusui has started to evolve into a Special Grade.
And its domain is as perfumed and as lavish as the mythology behind it. It's not just an ordinary domain, it's an entire palace that could rival Azuchi Castle.
"You will never find me, boy."
This nikusui is ancient and powerful, and he wonders why it appeared in Tokyo.
"This city's no place for something like you." He tries to goad it, "People aren't so easily fooled here."
"There was an invitation," it replied, its voice echoing across the plane, "for a party."
Of yokai?
"There will be more of us coming to the feast," it laughs, "perhaps the Six Eyes will be invited too!"
Senpai?
Of course, this only spells danger for the jujutsu community entirely, and whoever is behind this–
"Pay attention!"
The nikusui attacks fast and deadly.
"You are in my domain!"
Kento winces at the searing pain through him chest. This hour is already too late for him, it's almost the graveyard shift, so...
He might as well go into overtime.
When the fight ends with the nikusui fleeing before he could chase it, however long it was, the first thing he does is send a text; a map pin to an emergency contact. At least, that's what he thinks, before he slumps down the wall and tries to fight his tiredness. He's not in much pain, but he's losing a bit of blood. Maybe he should have called the ambulance instead, they'd think this was a random attack in Kabukicho, and wouldn't have to explain his current state so much. They'd understand and they'd accept it, and he could get some sleep–
"Kento!"
Oh.
"Nanami-san!"
It's her. But she wasn't his emergency contact. She couldn't be. Maybe he just sent it to the most recent contact, maybe he did–
He doesn't have enough strength in him to respond to her, or to even move. But he hears her voice, all blurry but audible enough for him to be sure it's her. She's panicking, isn't she? Who would send a map pin at this hour, anyway? But she's there and she's hoisting him up and on her bike, and she's telling him something.
"Don't worry, you're okay. You're good, you're fine."
It must be something important. But he closes his eyes and slumps backward and sideways–
"Stay put! Hold–hold here."
And then she maneuvered him. Is he holding on to her shoulders now? Isn't this a little too close...
Kento thinks, if he was still a young adolescent, his heart would have beaten as loud and as fast as her bike's engine. But minutes later, he's being hoisted down the bike and laid somewhere. He still hasn't opened his eyes, but he's sure this isn't a hospital. It feels too quiet and too dark. Where is this place?
"Don't worry about the mess."
It's her voice.
"Everything is clean, and everything's... where did I put it?"
When does manage to open his eyes, the first thing that comes to mind, after the sudden burst of bright, fluorescent lights on the ceiling is:
Her place of work is a mess.
But don't get him wrong. Kento Nanami has no qualms with tattooed individuals and tattoo artists, but he's never really been inside a tattooist's place of work. He's only ever seen them on TV or in film, in fictionalized and fantastical worlds where cursed spirits and the like don't exist. So when he sees her place of work, the studio decorated with images of deities and supernatural creatures, which appears more and more tacky the longer he looks, he wrinkles his nose and tries to ignore the many, many eyes staring back at him.
And it's been a while, a few months, since he last set foot inside her tattoo parlor. He doesn't remember it having this many... decorations before. But he's not here to get a tattoo, which might be the reason why he feels they're staring him down to goad him into getting one.
Right. He isn't here to get a tattoo, he's here to get an injury treated and this place is closer than Jujutsu Tech. He isn't so weak and so drowsy anymore, and he thinks it's because he's being scared into healing by the many, many deities surrounding him, maybe even by the fearsome image of Lord Enma himself, hanging above him.
"How many gods do you think there are?"
She's rummaging through drawers and cabinets to find a first-aid kit, all the while trying to make conversation to make him forget about the searing pain shooting through his leg.
"What?"
The pain is almost unbearable. Almost.
"Here, in this room," she continues, "how many gods do you think there are?"
He tries to count, starting from the shelf on top left.
One, two, three…
"Sorry, but…" she already has a pair of scissors in her hands, "can I cut off the leg? The pant leg, I mean."
He counts seven gods before answering, "Yeah."
So she cuts through the fabric above his knee. It's a jagged cut, and this pair is expensive, but he isn't complaining. He'd rather lose this than lose his leg.
"There's a prize if you can count all of them correctly," she says, "and I tell this to everyone."
"Huh."
He feels the press of her fingers against his skin around the injury, but he doesn't hiss of wince. Instead, he continues counting. Starting from the maneki-neko.
Eight, nine, ten, eleven…
It's one way to fall asleep, he thinks. Instead of counting sleep, one could count the number of gods in the sky. In this case, the number of figurines and pictures in this room. It reminds of those old temples adorned with offerings, and their souvenir shops overflowing with idols and statuettes.
…twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine…
He wonders a bit about how she could have collected all these things, if she'd just happened to pick them up on her travels around Japan, or if she'd gone out of her way to gather them. They're of varying sizes and make; wood, ceramic, porcelain. Some look expensive, gilded with gold and jewels, and some look homemade, painted with bright and shiny colors.
The antiseptic is sharp and the odor reminds him of hospitals; she's pouring on too much, isn't she? She's– Is she nervous?
"I've never… done this before." She admits, pressing the gauze into the wound, "At least, on other people."
He remembers seeing her a few times, in what might be considered a debriefing in the jujustu world, speaking with both Gojo and Ieri with either a freshly bandaged arm, leg, or both. Her cursed technique wasn't suited for battle anyway, at least from close range. He knows she'd prefer a support role, anyway.
"Ieri-senpai won't be up for another three hours," she continues, "so you're stuck with me."
She wraps the gauze tightly around his leg, and he continues counting.
…thirty-six, thirty-seven…
"Sorry." He hears her chuckle, "But I guess this is why first-aid should be taught in school, especially for sorcerers."
…forty-two, forty-three, forty-four…
There couldn't be this many idols. Did he miscount?
"It's done. At least, it's clean and wrapped up." She stands up, and there's a little bit of his blood on her hands, "So how many did you count?"
…fifty-one, fifty-two…
"…fifty-three." He exhales shakily. He hasn't lost that much blood, has he?
She blinks twice.
"Wow," she chuckles, "no one's ever gotten that number before."
He spares a chuckle in spite of himself: "So many are there?"
"Hmm," she shrugs and looks at the shelves "I don't know. I haven't really gotten to counting them all again."
Again?
"There was a hundred and sixty-three last year."
Was?
"A few months ago, I counted a hundred and thirty-six."
She picks up a small statuette of a Buddha, "They're all imbued with a certain amount of blessed energy."
…or what's more commonly known as reverse cursed energy.
"…They're like totems. My family uses things like these in exorcisms, but I sometimes give them away, to act as wards."
So the amount of blessed energy here must be…
"So you're safe here." She smiles, "No cursed spirit will ever set foot in this place."
She looks at the tapestry hung high on the wall. It's an image of Enma, the ferocious Lord of Hell.
"So what were you after at this hour? I thought only I worked the graveyard shift."
Isn't she going to let him rest? Isn't she going to get some rest?
"Less traffic." He mumbled.
"You don't… own a car, do you?"
He knows she owns a motorbike.
"Less people outside."
She hums in agreement.
"So you wanted to try Kabukicho?"
Right, she found him– No, he led her there, sending her a map pin at 4:07 in the morning. Twenty minutes later, she hoisted him onto her bike and told him, "You could have told me you were in the area."
Because Shinjuku, the bright, sleepless city, is her territory.
"There was a Grade 1 in the area."
"Kabukicho's a den for spirits, cursed or not," she tuts, "but they're mostly harmless unless provoked, even the Special Grades, so…"
She looks back at him and sighs.
"So what were you after?"
Is she asking because she's concerned?
"A Nikusui."
"In Tokyo? Wow."
She already knows what that is, a yokai preying on human meat. But rather than be scared, she's getting excited.
"Well, Kabukicho seems like a perfect location for its den. It's a territorial kind, so there isn't bound to be another like it in the area. But then again…"
She starts muttering to herself, and he knows she's planning on how to hunt it down. He isn't going to tell her that he only came across the yokai by chance. He isn't going to tell her the real reason why he was there.
"…yokai like those wouldn't hunt so actively in places like those. Unless there was something else that could… But what would it…"
He knows she exorcises cursed spirits and yokai like she wants to complete a bestiary, and her enthusiasm clearly shows it.
"But anyway, I'm just curious. You live nowhere near Shinjuku, so why… Why were you there?"
He thinks she's actually asking him, "I could have handled it, couldn't I?"
And he believes that she can, he honestly knows that she can, but he can't tell her, he absolutely cannot tell her–
"Never mind, sorry."
What?
"This is just… the adrenaline. I talk it out, sometimes, before I go to bed. I faced a handful of smaller yokai today. Easy, but there was an entire den of them!"
He's relieved that she's unharmed, or at least appears to be. But he isn't going to tell her that.
"But I'm glad you contacted me." She yawns, and it seems her adrenaline's already run out, "It… It means a lot that people rely on me, sometimes."
He knows she was also born into this world of jujutsu alone, that despite her ancient line and her proud clan, she was raised like any other sorcerer. To fight and defend alone.
So he doesn't tell her that he's glad she came too.
"Thank you, K– Nanami-san."
She almost slipped then, and a small part of him wanted her to.
Thank you, Kento.
"Sure." He replies, throat dry and voice small, "And thanks… for this."
Minutes pass in silence. He tries to count the idols again.
"When your leg's better…" she says quietly, "can I take you out?"
On– on a date?
But he knows that's impossible. She's asked him that precise question–"Can I take you out?"–many times and it's never really been any sort of romantic. If anything, she's doing this as a friend, because she's his friend, because he's her friend.
Even if some part of him wishes that they weren't just friends.
So he says, "It's fine. You don't have to–"
"…out shopping?"
Oh.
Oh.
But she doesn't really have or want to, does she?
"It looks expensive."
He can easily afford to buy another pair.
"Designer?"
Well…
"You don't have to worry about it."
"Are you sure?"
Why does it sound like she's pushing it?
"Really."
"Okay." She nods, "Let me treat you to something else then."
Her stare is so sure and determined. But she's not really asking him on a date, is she?
"For the tip, I mean," she adds, "I wouldn't have found out about the nikusui if it wasn't for you."
You're welcome?
"There's a new place that just opened…"
There always is, apparently.
"No, a restaurant I've been meaning to try, it's in Roppongi and it has this new…"
The more she describes it, the more he realizes it's that restaurant he's always wanted to try too.
"…and they have this soft opening discount, but it's only offered for…"
"…reservations of two."
They say it at the same time.
Yes. He knows all that, about the White Day offering it has.
"Yeah, so…" she hesitates, "so it's perfect."
So she thinks it's not just "a good opportunity", but a "perfect" one. And he thinks so, too.
But this is not a date, this is not a date, this is–
She clears her throat, "You're an expert on food, so I think you'd appreciate it more than anyone else. Maybe even me."
She isn't flustered, not at all, and neither is he because they're friends, aren't they? They're really good friends that are planning to make the most of an opportunity that has presented itself.
"…Sure." He replies, "I look forward to it."
"Thanks… Nanami-san." She says it clearly this time, "You're a lifesaver."
You could say the same about you.
"I'll leave you, then, to… sleep. Uh, I'd offer you the bed upstairs, but we wouldn't want to jostle that injury, so… Wait here."
Then she disappears behind the back door. And he… likes that she doesn't mind him, that she even goes out to invite him to her actual, personal space. She comes back down quickly, with two pillows and a blanket in hand.
"It's sunrise now, and you can get a few hours of sleep before we head over to Ieri-senpai."
She doesn't have to trouble herself with this, with him, but she's a little insistent that he can't help but say, "I'm fine, thanks."
But she isn't so insistent as to not respect him. So she leaves the pillows and blanket with him and makes her way back to the door.
"You're safe here, Nanami-san. All these gods, however many there are, will protect you."
She smiles at him and he smiles back.
Thank you.
"And I'll get coffee later, on the way."
He hears her disappearing footsteps as he closes his eyes, trying to ignore the many, many eyes staring at him.
This isn't the first time she's smiled at him so warmly, but this is the first time he's ever smiled the same way towards her.
He thinks about the maneki-neko keychain hanging on one of his belt loops, about whether she could have seen it. If she did, what could she think? And if she didn't, should he show her? The maneki-neko brings luck and good fortune, and it might have just brought them to him.