time out
A/N: I'm sorry I haven't been updating for Jujustu Kaisen lately. So I hope this update makes up for it.
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).
If her place of work is a mess of souvenir deities and poster gods, then her place of rest is… an unexpectedly comforting one. There are a lot of plants, too many to count at one glance. It's like an overflow from a garden, or a trendy attempt at being more "one with nature." But the plants don't seem like her, especially the many, many pots of flowers adorning the shelves.
"…the humble abode."
He hears her speak as she navigates the space, stepping over strewn magazines, papers, and many other things. It's a mess, sure, but it looks very lived-in and homey, which is something he'd never expect from someone who dresses like her. In all honesty, he'd expect her space to be a bit more minimalist, a lot more industrial, and with less plants. Instead of plants, maybe graphic posters or art prints, but…
Kento sees small statues of deities on the shelves and cabinets, and thinks; Ah, of course. At the end of the day, this is still a sorcerer's domain.
Then again, she isn't just any other sorcerer. Her family is from a line of onmyodo. But the abundance of plants looks out of place and somewhat uncharacteristic for her. Is this a secret hobby or a pastime of hers? If it is, then this is too personal, too unexpected. For him to be so welcome into this space–
Oh, he might even blush if he were a high schooler. Which he is not. Hasn't been for a very, very long time. So he doesn't blush, but the flustered feeling stays. Does Gojo or Ieiri know about this? He feels like he's intruding into something private, something secret. He shouldn't feel too special about this. He shouldn't feel special at all.
So this… trip to the upstairs of the tattoo parlor should not be anything awkward. This is just a small favor, a small act of kindness. He did, after all, volunteer to help with an errand of hers that involves two people…
"…a bag of salt, leaves of holy basil, crushed mandrake root, anise…"
She remembers the list out loud as she shuffles through drawers and cabinets in the kitchen. The light is warm and yellowish, and he thinks, if he imagines it, she could easily be seen cooking in a space like that. Well, if she knew how–no, if she wanted to. He can see the set of cookware on one shelf and a set of utensils hanging beside the stove. They looked used, but not worn, so this means–
It means nothing, Kento.
He rattles his head to shake the idea. Why does he imagine her in a situation like that? Something so personal and domestic, and almost...
No. No, he should stop right–
"There."
She turns around and catches him staring. He wants to disappear.
"Oh, the plants," she smiles, "you must be wondering when there's so many."
She shifts her gaze to the pot of violets near the sink, and his eyes follow. It is, like the rest of the plants in this space, unkempt and overgrown. But if she's noticed that he wasn't not looking at the plants per se, then she might have started this conversation to avoid any unwanted awkwardness between them.
But he wasn't staring at her, he thinks, he was staring at the space occupied by her. There is a difference, and a big one at that, he tries to reason with himself. The small kitchen where she stands, under the warm light, surrounded by so many things reminds him that they, jujutsu sorcerers, are still human.
"They aren't mine." She clears her throat, "In fact, none of these things are mine."
He doesn't understand; that could mean anything. There are a lot of things in this space, and in that kitchen alone he thinks he could easily count about a hundred different items.
"The plants, I mean," she clarifies, "they were originally someone else's. My–"
She stops, hesitates.
"My"? The word makes him nervous. It's like he's trespassed, or done something he shouldn't have. But it's not like he asked, and it's not like she was goaded into talking. Was she? He wants to sink back into the walls and disappear. Maybe he should apologize, maybe...
He doubts this can be considered a strain on their relationship, doubts that this can even be thought of as tense or awkward. There isn't anything awkward between them, and there shouldn't be, because they're friends. She said it so herself.
"You're a good friend, Kento."
Kento. In the very few and very distant times she has said his first name, he'd come to appreciate every single one of them.
"Thanks, Kento."
"I think, Kento, I should call you 'Nanami-san' like everyone else."
"You're going to be fine, Kento."
"Kento!"
"Let's go, Kento."
"Kento–"
Of course, this is uncharacteristic for him. To trail off and get lost in his thoughts? And in the middle of a conversation? What was happening to him?
"Nanami-san." She smiles, wide and warm, "I think that's a conversation for another time. Maybe later, after we've exorcised the spirit?"
Is she…
No, of course she isn't asking him out. She just wants to clarify things for him. They've known each other a while now, but it's not like they've shared each other's secrets. Neither of them have told each other about their previous relationships, and neither of them have asked, so this is like the first step about getting to know each other better. Because they're friends, good friends.
Just friends?
He looks at the pot of violets and wonders if this is how envy feels. There was another person here, before him, who occupied the same space as her, who lived here with her. And whether that person is still around, both literally and figuratively, then of course, he knows better than to breach their friendship with whatever he's experiencing. He ought to know better than to assume and suppose that she is… available.
But was he thinking about that in the first place?
…why?
"No, of course–" He stammers mid-way, "but don't pay it any mind. I was just…"
What?
"…curious."
Was he?
"Yeah, I know." She chuckles, gesturing to her clothing, "I don't look like the type, but it's an acquired hobby."
Her casual and openly friendly reaction makes him want to learn more. What other hobbies does she have? Does she dye her hair regularly? And why red? Do her tattoos have any significance? Does she have a tattoo that's just there? Does she dress like this all the time? Or does she dress in simpler, more toned down outfits when she isn't on duty? It's an itching in my throat and a scratching in his hands; he feels younger than he is and he wants to get to know her a lot more than he already does.
"It suits you." He says it before he can stammer; and it is honest, pure, and makes her eyes widen the slightest bit.
"Thank you," she breathes out a sigh, "Nanami-san."
Kento.
He wants to tell her that she can call him by his given name when it's just the two of them. Without the pretenses of the jujutsu world, without the necessities of these missions and errands, when it's just the two of them in space, a space, this space–
But a part of him keeps telling him that he's intruding on something secret and sacred. She's lived here with another person, maybe she still is, and this is not his place. This is not a place he can call his own.
"I appreciate it." She's smiling that smile, but for some reason, she sounds sad. "I can tell you more about it if you're free later this week."
He is.
"I am."
…anytime, for you.
"Okay, then." She nods, "I know a buffet that has dinner discounts every Thursday."
It's a… No, it's not a date.
"How does Mongolian Barbecue sound?"
He smiles at her right back.
"Good."
He doesn't think it's a date because it won't be a date. It's just... dinner between two friends and nothing more. He did decide to accompany her on this errand as a... friend. It was his choice, and it wasn't decided because of another person's influence. He decided to come with her because he... wanted to. And because he owed her for the incident with the nikusui.
"You were right about the nikusui, Nanami-san," she told him that day, "it's made Kabukicho its domain. It was a tough fight, but it's done. And I owe you for that."
He doesn't want to think that she owes him something, she shouldn't, and he thinks it's only from the goodness of her own heart that she's so considerate about him. He doesn't think that this is any special treatment from her, she does this all the time. She gives delivery coupons to Ieiri, talks about meal discounts with Gojo, and even treats Ichiji and Nitta to takeout whenever she drops by the school. She's just... a nice person.
So when she exorcises the curse haunting an old apartment building, she prays over its soul because she is a nice person.
"The wonders of mandrake and anise, Nanami-san."
And because she is a nice person, she invites everyone else because the discount is for groups.
Of course, Kento, it's a buffet.
So it's a little noisy, it's a little crowded, but the food is just as good as she told him.
"The vegetables are all fresh, and the meat is seasoned just perfectly."
She doesn't know much about the intricacies of cooking–her words, not his–but she does know where to find good food and how it's done, so he can't really blame her–and he doesn't want to–for inviting everyone else to this place.
"This restaurant's a little obscure," Ieiri says between bites, "what's it called again?"
Without a beat, she says, "The Mongolian Barbecue Place Behind The Grocery Store."
Ieiri coughs. "You're kidding."
"No, really, Ieiri-senai."
"So how'd you find out about it, anyway? Wandered too far from the grocery store?"
That's when she pauses, picks a bit at her food like a child wanting to avoid a conversation.
"A friend told me about it," she finally says, "and I had the same reaction too."
Ieiri huffs, not fully convinced by the answer, but there's nothing more to that conversation. If the way she paused before answering was any kind of indication, it was that she's hiding something. And so the meal continues, plate after plate, idle chatter after idle chatter. Kento glances in her direction sometimes, sees her laugh and smile, and everything's just fine, isn't it?
And when it was time to pay the bill, she settled all of it.
"I got a pretty big payout for the nikusui," she says as an excuse, "so it's my treat."
Kento isn't all surprised at this level of generosity from her, and he isn't surprised that she orders four boxes of takeout.
"It's nice to see you again," the waiter calls her by name as he gives her the plastic bag, "and thank you for your continued patronage."
There's a story there, probably, but she won't be telling it to them anytime soon, will she?
And when they go their separate ways, it's only a coincidence that she steps to stand beside him.
"Walk my kouhai home, will 'ya?" Gojo yells out as he waves goodbye.
And... which kouhai was he referring to?
"You live nearby, Nanami-san?" She smiles knowingly–you're the kouhai, it seems to say.
"Not really, but it's fine."
He knows she didn't take her bike out today. He wouldn't want to bother her and her four boxes of takeout.
"I'd like to walk for a while, if that's okay?"
"Sure."
He doesn't want to think that she's knowingly inviting herself to walk him home, like this was a date–by standards of popular media. So he tells himself to keep composed, keep calm, keep cool, and keep things civil and friendly.
He could offer to carry the bag, but what would that mean?
"Are you... alright with that?"
They stop at a crosswalk.
"Yeah, it's no problem."
The light turns green, and they walk. The plastic bag swings between them.
"My friend and I were regulars here." She says suddenly, as if she was holding it in.
Were, he takes note of the word, so something must have happened–No! Ne, he isn't going to pry. It must be something personal, anyway.
But she continues, "We used to eat there every second and fourth Thursday of the month, take advantage of the discount. And he really liked the food there, so..."
The streetlight above them flickers.
"Is it okay if I tell you this, Nanami-san?"
Of course.
But he doesn't say anything, instead he just nods.
"Thanks," she smiles, "it's been a while since I ate there because he... He was really important to me, and I just... Had a craving for Mongolian Barbecue, you know?"
He can already infer from her broken phrasing and her avoidance of certain terms; she doesn't have to force herself to tell him. But why is she telling this to him in the first place? And why him?
"Today was..."
The bag swings between them.
"It's his anniversary today."
Oh.
And he doesn't know how to act next. Should he... comfort her?
"It's been a few years now, and Senpai," she chuckles a bit, "he'd tell me to take the day off and find a new hobby, but I sometimes find myself drifting back to that place. So he'd offer to eat with me, and he'd tell me about his missions and his partners, just about anything that'd take my mind off."
Gojo is... surprisingly nice? No, not surprisingly. He's always been nice, sometimes seemingly too considerate of others. And even when he was younger, Kento recalls how Gojo would purposely go out of his own way to... buy a souvenir.
"But he's just another person, sorcerer or not, he's... He's just another person sitting across from me at the table and it reminded me of... You know?"
He does, slightly. He knows that feeling too.
"So, I'm going to be honest, Nanami-san."
They stop at another crosswalk. The light is red, and there's nobody else on the street.
"Today has been really nice, but I wanted to get this off my chest. I'm sorry that I ruined it, I just... I couldn't tell this to everyone, but you... I think you're a really good listener."
The light turns green, but neither of them move.
"And you don't seem like the type to judge, or have any strong prejudices."
But I–
"So I feel like I can talk to you about anything."
And you can, you should!
"Thanks for being there, Nanami-san."
She smiles at him and he feels his chest tighten.
"So if there's anything you want to know, you can just ask."
He feels there's a lot more to what she said. There's something there that he wants to know, something she isn't telling him, and if he asks now, he might break this very, very pleasant relationship they currently share, and he wouldn't want to... But if she's told him that he can ask her anything, does she mean–
"The plants..."
The light turns red, and it's out of his mouth before he can apologize.
"The flowers, yeah!" She replies uncharacteristically loud, "The plants were all his. He was a florist, and his shop was right next to mine."
"I'm sorry," was all he could say, "I didn't meant to ask–"
"Oh, d-don't be." She stammers a little at the apology, "I should have told you from the start instead of being... instead of not telling."
He doesn't recall if the place next to her parlor was still a flower shop, but he does remember seeing bouquets on display at her window.
"So, yeah," she chuckles awkwardly, "a florist and a tattoo artist, just like those paperbacks."
He could imagine it, all the rosy cliches and romances, and he almost feels embarrassed.
"He was a really good man, too good for me, and too good for the world of sprits and curses."
Nothing can be too good for you.
He thanks whatever deity there is that it doesn't fall out of his mouth.
"And he's in a better place, wherever he is, with endless flower fields and evergreens."
The light turns green again, and he thinks it's a sign.
"I just miss him sometimes."
This is definitely a sign.
"But thank you for listening, Nanami-san."
She begins to walk, and so does he. And the rest of the way is quiet, but she's smiling and he feels his heart start to beat faster, his cheeks heat up, and his throat tightens. The plastic bag swings between them and he wants to ask if he could carry it for her so that his hands wouldn't feel as twitchy as they do.
"We're almost there," he coughs out, "just another block."
"Okay," she moves the bag to her other hand, and looks at the buildings around them, "I didn't think you lived in a place like this, Nanami-san."
Opulent and rich, expensive brands and even more expensive restaurants. Of course no one would think that he lives in a district like this.
"Well," he doesn't know what to reply, "the housing market back then wasn't as–"
"Sorry," she laughs, "it was meant to be a compliment, you don't–you aren't the usual type."
What type?
"No, sorry, I just–" she sighs, "things are a little jumbled in my head sometimes. What I meant was, it's probably every salaryman's dream to live in a place like this."
Oh, well...
"...I'm not just a salaryman anymore, am I?"
She hums, then smiles, "Yeah. Nanami Kento, the salaryman-turned-sorcerer."
And there's a story there that he thinks she deserves to know. After all, she told him her story–even if only part of it, and he ought to return the favor. Just to make them even.
Favor? Make them even?
But if he thinks about it, she had no obligation to tell him that. Absolutely nothing at all. Still, she told him whatever she was comfortable with telling him, and there is no bitterness, no envy, nothing at all that could make him blame her for this tight, hot feeling in his chest. She was being nice, she was being a friend, and he–
He should not feel this way towards her.
"We're here."
He stops, and she stops two steps ahead of him. The building is brightly-lit, almost golden in the light, and he feels a little embarrassed because of it.
She turns around to face him, quiet.
Goodbyes shouldn't be this awkward, right?
"I'll be going now, Nanami-san," she says first, "walking with you was nice."
"You too," he replies, "and thanks for the meal."
Neither of them move.
"I'll be leaving–" she blurts out, "the week after the next, to Ehime."
That's pretty far.
"Ieiri-senpai was supposed to come with me, but..."
She isn't... No!
She grips the plastic bag tighter, "If you feel like escaping Tokyo for a while, let me know. I have an extra ticket and a yokai to exorcise."
It doesn't seem like Ieiri to turn down a chance to get out of the city, but this might be another sign, an opportunity–
And he stops thinking right then, because he says, "Sure."
"Great." She nods, "Be seeing you, Nanami-san."
She waves goodbye before turning back to the street and calling over a taxi. And when he gets to his apartment, the first thing Kento does is check his calendar for the week after the next.
All clear.
But he doesn't want to think of it as a date, nothing romantic at all. She initially invited Ieiri, probably after getting discounted tickets for Ehime, and he was just the next best candidate. She's a nice person, generous and considerate, and he shouldn't think of this as anything beyond a friendly gesture.
But she didn't really have to walk him home, did she?
Kento doesn't know what to think.