Chapter 12

I don't like trains.

I don't like how many people there are. I don't like constantly feeling like I'm going to miss my next stop. I don't like how small the bustling throngs of people make me feel.

It's one of the reasons why I chose a bakery with an apartment above and didn't settle for something that would be cheaper but inevitably far away.

My hatred for it is one of the reasons why I'm sure that we're going to be using it today to get to whatever super-secret, super hostile meeting we would be attending.

"Sorry," I mumble, bumping into someone with a child. They give me a quick glance, hustling along with a short apology as well, leaving me behind to get my bearings.

I can see the broad shoulders of both Nanami and Gojo just a few feet away, already heading confidently to the pay gates. My stomach tightens anxiously as I fumbled around in my purse for my pay card, thinking desperately that I should have installed the app on my phone. My eyes dart to the glass walls that held the police officers on either side of the gates, heart rate increasing. What if my card didn't have any money? What if it did have money but I wasn't able to swipe it right and then I held up the line and then I got arrested? What if they just arrested me right now for looking like such a hopeless idiot, fidgetting in front of the entrance like I'm about to rob that old couple shoving yen into the machines that load up our cards just a few feet away?

"Sorry," I squeak again as someone rams into my shoulder, sending me stumbling to the side.

I hate trains. Everyone's always in a rush - worse, they know where they were going. How did you know with such certainty where you were going? Other than… well, obviously they knew where they needed to go - that meeting that they have to get to by 9, that date that you were meeting in Kyoto.

I glower down at my purse, yanking open pocket after pocket as I try to shrink into myself some more so that no one else slams into me. The uncertainty of the next platform, the next train stop kept me rooted there, fingers sliding aside the stack of papers shoved into my purse for some recipes, some bills, some-

"Minato." I blink, coming back to myself with a start at the deep, stern voice. Nanami's backtracked to me, his brow furrowing as he makes his way effortlessly toward me. He had put on a pair of green-tinted glasses, the frames circular.

People don't push him around even though he was going against the tide of bodies. They part around him unconsciously, making room for him like water parting around the relentless pressure of a boulder. Maybe it's the severe tip of his brows, the straight, firm way that he held himself like a tree that knew it was rooted to the ground and wouldn't be moved by something lesser. I try not to look like I admire that effortless confidence too much. "Having second thoughts?"

I blink, taken aback. "What? Second thoughts..?"

He steps closer, so close that I have to tip my head back, back, back to keep eye contact with him. So close that I could still smell the distant memory of the cafe, fresh coffee, and vanilla. His head tips to the side, leaning a bit closer so that I can feel his breath ghosting along the shell of my ear as he speaks over the monotone hum of the station announcements. "Second thoughts about consorting with monsters."

A sharp spike of nerves shivers across my guts, zinging over my organs like a stray bolt of lightning. Monsters - My eyes snapped to meet his, breath rushing out in a soft gasp. There was a hard edge in those eyes and - and something else. Something hotter. To fight monsters you have to be a monster.

"Are you saying you're a monster?" I breathe, hating that my eyes dip to the way his lips curve a bit, that perpetual frown turning into an amused grimace. Contradictory.

His eyes catch mine, darkening to coal. "I'm saying that you can still turn around. I won't bother you." Something in his expression wavers, softening. "You have a choice, Minnow. You always have a choice."

Why did he keep saying that? I break away from that suffocating gaze, darting a glance over his shoulder, and catch Gojo's lanky frame leaning against a pillar just beyond the pay gates. A group of school girls twittered as they passed him, blushing.

"Do you think I'm so weak that I can't even attend a meeting?" I hated the self-depreciation in my tone, the bitter edges that came from my own hateful thoughts. I know who I am. I probably just look like some silly helpless little baker, so lonely and naive in between her tiny display cases. His life suddenly felt so big - so much more than I had initially thought. I must look so… pathetic to him. My mouth twisted, trying to force down all of those thoughts. "I know how you must see me. I know what you think of me-"

His eyes had darkened to an ungodly obsidian, his brows furrowing more and more as I continued. "Minato, I don-"

I cut him off, unable to hear him make any excuses. "I can't even get on a fucking train without some sort of outside push. How miserable is that?! I - I mean, I'm a grown-up, and I can't even-"

My mouth shut at the sudden rush of words threatening to spill out. I was about to tell him about all the depressing shit - about how I hadn't been there for my mom after my dad died. About how I had been so - so childish. How I was scared of what was happening to me - of that thing over in the corner just past the first stairwell that I could see creeping along beside that happy couple with the baby.

Embarrassment burns along my cheeks, forcing my eyes down to the ground once more.

His phone gives a little beep, whatever's on it making him cuss sharply before he shoves it back into his pocket. His face hardens as he ducks down, attempting to catch my eyes even though I'm trying pretty hard to avoid his. "Look at me." My eyes zip the other way, landing squarely on an octopus ball place. "Minato, look at me right now."

The deepening of his voice is enough of a warning that my body starts, eyes snapping to his with the quickness of a trained dog. I cringe at the quiet rage in his eyes.

His voice lowers, holding me leashed. "We're going to talk later about that little speech you just made. We have a schedule to keep right now, but I promise you I'll be making the time to circle back. For now, I'll leave it at this: stop degrading yourself in front of me. I don't find it amusing."

It felt like someone had swatted me. I gulped, blinking a few times at the scolding.

"I didn't ask this before - my apologies - but may I touch you?" Something inside me melts a little bit at the request. People… well, I had found that not many people asked me before touching. I nod tightly, watching as he reaches forward to drag a thumb along my cheek in silent - thanks? Encouragement? Whatever it is it makes my belly tighten like a purse cinched shut, the air in my lunges suddenly feeling like carbon dioxide instead.

His fingers curl around one of my own, splaying my palm out briefly to rub a reassuring thumb along the sensitive inside, making me shiver. And I thik - not for the first time - that this man might be the death of me. Not like when I first met him when I thought I would wither away trying to make him smile. Or the last time I met him when I thought he would actually get me killed. This time is different. This time makes my skin itch with the urge to leap and run and work off the nervous, giddy fizz in my veins. This time makes me have the irrational urge to sink to my knees before him.

His voice is rough when he finally speaks again, my eyes entranced by the sight of his own engulfing mine, his on my face. "You don't like crowds - look at me."

My eyes dart up, away from the hypnotic trail his thumb is making along the heel of my hand. He's waiting for me to say something, his brows furrowed as if my next words are way more important than they actually are.

"I don't like trains," I whisper lamely and he stares at me for a long, pensive moment before nodding quickly

"Let me help you." His eyes caught and held mine for a moment, those brows tipping down seriously, waiting for me until I gave a short nod. Nanami Kento was an looks around sharply, taking in the swell of people created by lunch. His frown deepens as someone gets a little too close, their shoulder brushing along mine. His hands tighten on mine, drawing me a little bit closer until I'm dizzy with the warmth of him. A muscle jumps in his jaw, his body curling around me like a protective shelter against all the activity around us. "People don't usually look out for smaller things when they're in a rush. Keep ahold of my belt, and I'll lead you through."

My stomach flips, shimmying its way up between my lunges before dropping suddenly back to its original position as he brings my hand down and to the hard leather of his belt, just beneath the soft material of his suit jacket. Whatever nervous energy I have slips into another section like little players running across the field to another goal. There are too many emotions for me to properly register and feel - too many bursts to fully grasp.

"Second skin, Minnow," he murmurs, turning back around, his hand slipping from mine. His eyes catch mine in a gentle warning. "Don't make me punish you."

Words fumble along my tongue, tripping over my lips in a disorganized splutter. "Wh-what?"

There's a sly heat to his eyes as he glances back at me. One that makes me think that maybe I should have ran away when he told me to.

"So, Minato-"

"Don't talk to her."

Gojo ignores him. "Where do you work?"

I glanced between the two, trying and failing to see how they could possibly be colleagues. They had to fight together sometimes…right? I frowned thinking about how powerful Nanami seemed. Maybe he didn't need to. My eyes strayed to Gojo, considering. Maybe Gojo was Nanami's protege? Or…underling? I couldn't think of anyone who felt more powerful than the blonde-haired man in front of me right now, his shoulders broad enough that I wouldn't have been able to see Gojo at all if it wasn't for his gangly height.

As it is, I can see that dopey, shit-eating grin, his hair a flamboyant statement to everyone as he tries to lean a little bit closer to me and only ends up getting himself plastered to Nanami's back. A vein pulses in the blonde-haired man's temple, his smile getting deeper and deeper as I watch.

"Get off of me," Nanami hisses sharply.

"Move and I won't be on you," Gojo snips back, giving me a suspiciously friendly smile. Somehow I can imagine the pure joy warming his eyes as he stares over Nanami's shoulder at me. "Where do you work, Minato?"

My eyes slip to meet Nanami's, unsure if there's a reason why I shouldn't tell Gojo any of my personal details. He seems nice enough but in all honesty, I'm wary of him. Wary of the way that he wielded his powers toward me so carelessly before. Wary of the flippant way that he seems to view my predicament like some brand new toy that he still hasn't torn the plastic away from.

Nanami's jaw flexes a bit, a long sigh slipping from him before he nods, giving me an annoyed nod. "He won't stop until you tell him."

My fingers tighten a little bit more on his belt, the leather cutting into my palm. When we had gotten onto the train, he had moved me to a wall, positioning himself in front of me and moving my hand so that I was clutching near his hip. I still couldn't entirely pin down why having him within my grasp made me feel calmer. It was odd…and… in a way it made me feel foolish.

My eyes darted back to the silver-haired man, narrowing slightly at his greedy expression. "One question." His face goes blank so I gulp, darting a glance at Nanami as I elaborate. That vein is throbbing even more insistently. "A question for a question."

A smile that reminds me of maple syrup sliding from a bottle, crawls across his face. "My number's 012-817-"

"Do you want to know where I work or not?"

I can feel his eyes like a physical touch now and I remember with frightening clarity the icy depths of them. Even behind the shiny, black cast of his glasses, they're imprinted on my mind. Nanami is ramrod still, his hands shoved into his pockets like he's physically restraining himself from grabbing me and dragging me from this train right now.

Gojo's smile is all teeth. "Where do you work?"

"A bakery," I say simply. "You said you-"

"That's a little vague," Gojo cuts me off and he slides to the side a little bit, ignoring Nanami as he flicks an annoyed look at the space between me and the silver-haired man. He really is unnaturally tall - all legs and arms and hair trying to meet the metal top of the train. His shoulders hunch in, hands shoved into the depths of his pockets as he slides away from Nanami and toward me like an inspector trying to see something particularly interesting. "Give me a bit more."

I consider. My question is a big one. "I run a bakery just outside of the train station we came from."

His brows lift - the first look of shock I've seen this entire time. Given the odd vein of our conversation, that's particularly concerning. "The busy one?"

I think. There are a lot of busy bakeries. "Maybe."

"You're successful." It sounds like an accusation. His head tips toward Nanami as he gives a low whistle. "A businesswoman. You must be enamored."

"Shut up," Nanami snaps, a hand reaching forward to grasp my forearm so that he can gently move me so that his body is between Gojo's and my own once more.

I'm too stuck on Gojo's earlier words to pay much attention to the last ones. "I'm just in a good spot. I got lucky."

His brows rise even farther. "Successful and modest. What a deadly combination." He doesn't look at me like it's a compliment. "Nana-"

"What's your question?" I jump a bit, shocked that Nanami's the one that cuts him off. He's been so closed-lipped about the whole ordeal that I was beginning to think that ringing the information from Gojo would be the only way.

I eye him cautiously before glancing around the crowded train station. We're crushed up against one of the exit doors, my body pressed into the corner right beside the filled benches against the windowed walls. Not many people are looking at us anymore, clearly over the shock of both Nanami and Gojo's appearance.

The two men take up way too much space. Nanami is bulky in a way that makes him look like a yakuza overlord and Gojo in a way that makes him look like a silent, free agent up for assassination for the right price. I don't blame the mother on the other side of the train who took one look at the odd navy blue ensemble that Gojo's wearing and shuffled into another compartment. Matched with my all-too ordinary black pleated skirt and cream sweater with black boots… I might look like I just got kidnapped and ransomed.

I lower my voice, leaning forward so that Nanami at least can hear me. He surprises me by ducking down, tipping his head so that his ear is right by my mouth. "You said that the… the people that I'm about to meet are on edge lately. Why?"

He pulls back, his eyes assessing as he takes in my guarded expression. I can't entirely make out the expression. Slowly, he leans back, whispering my question to Gojo while keeping my eyes. His expression is deceptively blank like he's waiting for me to give more away.

"Ah," Gojo murmurs absently. "I was hoping you wouldn't hang on to that bit… Can I take my question back?"

I glare at him sourly. "No."

He stares at me for a moment longer. "Can Nanami wine and dine you instead?"

I blush. Yes. "No."

I see him shift out of the corner of my eye, his belt scraping along the sensitive skin of my palm as he leans a bit to the side. I can't look at him.

"Hm." He studies me for a moment longer, his smile dimming a bit as he takes me in. "And here I thought that you were just a meek little normie who wanted to go back to her quiet, tedious life."

I didn't blink. "I do."

I am meek. And I do want to go back to my life. Being this powerless is frightening. And the constant press of these creatures was becoming… My eyes inadvertently slide to the side, catching sight of the shivering, hive-riddled leg of a curse sitting just on the other side of the compartment. A particularly large boil pops as I watched, spewing a sickly yellow slime onto the women sitting beside it. I blanch, catching the swivel of its green eyes.

An arm slammed forward, Nanami's hand gripping the safety rod just beside my head and cutting off my view. I jump, blinking up at him as he ducks his head down so that he can keep my eyes.

"Don't look at it," he murmurs, his voice low and rough. "Curses are drawn to attention."

I gulp, feeling a hot rush of embarrassment creep up my spine. Of course, they were. That made perfect sense - why I had to sprint home that one night in the grocery store, why they only seemed to key onto my presence when I looked for too long. I should have realized that sooner. I finally took in the fact that Nanami had slipped on a pair of green-tinted sunglasses and that Gojo had never taken his off - not even in the restaurant. If curses didn't know that they were being observed then they wouldn't notice you either.

I make a mental note to get my sunglasses.

"My question," I prompt on a shaky exhale, still caged in my Nanami's arm and body. I didn't mind the closeness - his scent growing familiar as I drew in one breath after another.

Gojo's head tips to the side. "Things…" Curses, I guessed, his words vague in the crowded train. "Have been a bit chaotic. An influx of…issues. And of… naturally talented individuals that seem to be…outgrowing… their predecessors."

A power struggle. I eye the two men in front of me, taking in their relaxed stances, the way their heads seem to tip toward the curses shadowing certain people without giving too much away. They were good.

"You're both talented as well," I guess.

Gojo's grin was a smug, vicious thing. "I don't like to brag."

My nose wrinkles. I highly doubted that. Nanami rolls his eyes heavenward, growing more and more irritated by the second. His hand'scn still clasped on the railing, blocking my view of the rest of the train completely. I can see the way the blue of his button-up fits along the strong splay of his shoulders and abs, the way his weapons holder crosses over his sides, highlighting the sculpted expanse of his chest. Unreasonably attractive, my mind thinks grumpily.

"Next stop, Mount Mushiro." The monotone voice echoed the display over the doors proclaiming our approaching destination.

A deep breath escapes Nanami as he saw it, something in his shoulder dipping in… defeat? Sadness? My insides quiver at his expression, his emotions darkening me like growing decay. He had a reason to feel this way - whether it was my own ineptitude or something else, I didn't know. But it made me beyond nervous.

Gojo moves away, whistling softly under his breath.

"We're here," he murmurs, his hand slipping away from the railing. His eyes run over me slowly, the lines of his face softening. His voice drops to a gentle whisper as he reaches forward to tuck a stray piece of hair behind my ear, making my skin tingle. "Remember what I told you. Don't make any promises. Don't give them anything more than the bare minimum."

Why was he so sad? Why did he keep warning me? I gulp down a nervous breath. My nod feels stiff as if every joint needs to be greased. "I promise."

He chuffs me under my chin, his eyes so gently that I might get the wrong idea. Stop looking at me like that, I want to say. Don't make me think that you care about me when you clearly just want me out of your hair. He had refused me at every turn, left me out to dry verbally while still always coming back to protect me. He confused me. What's going on? I wanted to demand. What are you not telling me?

But it's too late. The fresh crisp mountain air hits my nose as Nanami leads me off, the mountains beyond the small train station going on for as far as I can see. Anxiety jolts through me. Should I have come? Suddenly, I'm not so sure about my decision. If I was over my head before, this is the final death toll, the feeling of finally giving in to the press of water around me.

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