time out
A/N: This chapter has been sitting in my drafts since October and I've only been able to complete it now.
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).
When Kento has nightmares, sometimes he thinks of going to a temple. Sometimes he thinks of going to a church. His mother is a devout Catholic and his father is a temple patron, but he can be considered far more spiritual than both of them. As a jujutsu sorcerer, he is required to be of sound mind and steady faith lest certain kinds of cursed spirits be able to take hold of him. A fight of a jujutsu sorcerer is a fight of faith and will, determination and concentration. One small mistake, a single second of faltering, and they're done for. So when he has nightmares, sometimes he considers going to a place of worship and prayer. But most of the time he goes to a park.
Tokyo, thankfully enough, has enough pockets of green grass and old trees for him to idle away with a book and a light meal. Today, he is the company of Goethe and a salad. It is still early, and the air is cool and crisp. Not many people would come to this park, tucked between tall buildings and empty rooms. He isn't even sure if you'd call it a park, it was just a space of green grass and tress with a few benches to sit on.
So whatever time he can have for himself, he grasps with both hands. Today is a Thursday, an odd day of the week, but he knows he doesn't miss the routine grind his former job required of him. Life as a jujutsu sorcerer is unpredictable and yet there are moments one can consider mundane and uninteresting. Moments of lengthy research and hours crammed in libraries and archives have never been a point of interest for practitioners of jujutsu, and he wasn't even one of few who were interested in these, but some had a certain ability to make those chores… exciting.
And she was one of those people.
"This was written by my grandmother, and she's never not mentioned being one of the few sorcerers who'd been published."
"This is ancient! There's only been three copies in print, and Jujutsu Tech has one?"
"Back home, they referred to this as a dissertation of the best kind, and here's why."
But she wasn't such a big reader either.
"It's part of the job. As onmyoji, my ancestors were fountains of knowledge of past, present, and future. Unfortunately, that kind divination isn't so big as it was before. What with horoscopes and star signs and all that."
And when Ieiri asked if she was one of those, she simply said:
"No, but I have an aunt who is, over in America."
She has a large family, that much he knows, with the lines running even beyond the Heian period, but he doesn't know exactly how much. She's mentioned a great number of cousins, aunts, uncles, all without names and faces, but not much about her own immediate family. And no one's asked much either. Whenever she mentions them–her mother, father, and grandmother–it's always along time lines of:
"They're doing well; my parents, at least. I haven't heard much from my grandmother."
And her grandmother, from what he knows and what he's heard, is the current head of her clan. She's once described her grandmother as strict and the kind of pride that would make unknowing sorcerers think she was a representative of one of Three Great Sorcerer Families.
"My grandmother believed our clan ought to stand alongside them, and that our technique could likely overpower the Zenin's."
Summoning shikigami were one thing, but manifesting the gods' will is entirely different, that much he knows.
"But not a lot of us have much interest in interclan politics. It's too much effort and too little gain. So my grandmother has favorites."
He knows she is not one of them.
"Rivalries and competitions exist, even in my family, but nothing too serious. In the end, it's all for the good of the clan and onmyodo, or jujutsu, anyway."
Sometimes, Kento wonders what it would be like to have come from a family of sorcerers, that double-edged sword. He wonders what it would be like to have that kind of support system, that kind of responsibility, and that kind of expectation. Coming from a relatively normal family, he hasn't really had the outward responsibility to protect and defend human kind. People aren't responsible for each other, that much he's been raised to learn. But being a jujutsu sorcerer, without even a lick of the supernatural from either of his parents, what does that mean?
Back then, in his first days of a student at Jujutsu Tech, he'd bitterly think he was a chosen one. Not "the" chosen one, but just among those who were un/lucky enough to be granted this kind of ability/destiny/responsibility.
And he's never had a day of rest, not really, ever since that day. So when he finds a time he can have for himself, he grabs it with both hands. It's nothing selfish, he thinks, because he isn't greedy. He takes everything in moderation, he takes times like these in moderation. He isn't lazy and he doesn't procrastinate. He does what he can when he can, and he makes good use of his time.
This time, he is curing himself of a nightmare. He is ridding himself of ghastly, gnarly thoughts. He is using this time to fill his mind with other things, the mundane things. The sounds of the early morning. The words of a dead poet. The smell of freshly watered grass. The taste of olives, onions, and tomatoes. The sight of green between buildings tall, gray, and glass.
He sees his reflection in the mirror and thinks he looks… fine. His shirt is white, crisp and smelling of laundry detergent. His pants are ironed neat and fall just above his ankle; and he is reminded of what she supposedly owes him, a new pair of pants for that incident with the nikusui. She's never mentioned it ever since, and neither has he because it's resolved, isn't it? She's treated his wound, drove him to Ieiri, and the nikusui is dead and she's taken them all out to a nice buffet dinner. She doesn't owe him anymore.
He frowns at himself. Now he's thinking about her when he shouldn't be. Now, he's seeing her in his mind's eye, smiling and laughing and looking like– No. This is bad. He shouldn't be thinking of her, let alone imaging her smiling at him and laughing with him because… because…
The thing is, his nightmare wasn't really a nightmare. It wasn't as horrific or as terrible as what was often depicted in media. It wasn't the closest thing to it, in fact. This was dissociation. This was him dissociating. If he thinks of it as nightmare, it will go away, it won't be as serious or as important or even as personal. If it was a nightmare, it would make things easier. His mind was playing him, telling him he needed rest, that he needed a break. And maybe he'll take up that offer to travel to Ehime with–
He should stop thinking about her. He turns the page and continues reading.
My senses ofttimes are oppress'd,
Oft stagnant is my blood;
But when by Christel's sight I'm blest,
I feel my strength renew'd.
I see her here, I see her there,
And really cannot tell
The manner how, the when, the where,
The why I love her well.
He stops reading then, curses Goethe with a single syllable–an immediate sigh, a quick exhale through his nose–and looks up at the approaching sun from behind the tall, tall buildings. He curses Goethe with another sigh, another breath, and wants nothing but to forget about whatever he'd seen, heard, and felt last night, because none of it was real or will ever be real. It was just a fantasy, a delusion, a hallucination. He was just tired. He needs to rest. He needs a break.
Ehime sounds a very, very attractive place to be now.
But if he should go with her, wouldn't that be wrong for him? Besides having the invitation originally for someone else, he'd feel like he's intruding on her on whatever she'd be doing there. He'd try his best, but he think he will–in some way or another–keep thinking about that thing from last night, that nightmare/delusion/hallucination, and continually make things awkward. And if she asks–no, when she asks:
"What's on your mind, Nanami-san?"
What would he tell her?
"Nothing. I just haven't had… a vacation for so long, I don't know what to do."
Or, "It's a lot quieter here than I expected, I'm not used to it. "
Or even, "Ehime is nice, I should take time off more often."
Or maybe, "You."
No, not that. Definitely not that. Especially since he hasn't even told her that he's interested in her offer. Her offer being a trip to Ehime, and not… well, her. But the thing is, the actual, truthful thing is, he's dreamed what it would feel like, to kiss her. In the hazy fog lands of his subconscious, he dreamed of what it would be like to kiss her. It was soft and warm, and he doesn't remember much else. But she smiled and she laughed, and she stood there like she belonged with him, held him like she wanted to belong to him.
Tokyo is big enough for him to forget about ever having… was "thought" the right word for it? But Tokyo is big enough and they have different shifts, and there's no way he'd ever have the same dream again. It was a slip of the mind, a simple and baseless suggestion from the furthest reaches of his mind away from all reason and all tact. It was nothing important and nothing he should ever–
And then he has a similar dream two days later, of him and her lying on cold, golden sand. That morning, he looks at his calendar. There's three days left, and her invitation to Ehime still stands.
He sends her a text, curt and brief.
"I'd be happy to accompany you to Ehime, if it's still available."
Formal and friendly. It's nothing personal and it's nothing too direct. It's safe.
"Great! Let me send you the itinerary. Thanks, Kento!"
Kento.
"Sorry, it's a… habit. Thanks, Nanami-san!"
He wants to tell her it's fine, that It's always been fine. He doesn't mind her calling him by his given name, doesn't mind her casual and friendly tone when it comes to him. He appreciates it, he… Can he like it, how she is with him? How she is… naturally? Ehime is a ways away from Tokyo, from the city, from everyone else. There's almost a complete guarantee that they'd be the only ones in Ehime, he'd be… just with her, not alone with her, but sometimes he might, but…
It's not often that Kento Nanami regrets his decisions, and even rarer that he makes decisions on impulse, but what's done is done. He can't back out now, can he? He can only hope that being away, on vacation, even if for a while, will actually be good for him and his subconscious.
So here he is, three days later, boarding a plane to Matsuyama, bringing with him everything besides his strange, confusing feelings towards the woman who's smiling at him.
"I forgot to ask earlier, but have you ever been to Ehime, Nanami-san?"
"No, but I've heard a lot about it."
No, not really.
"Well, that makes two of us. But the entire trip's all planned out because there's yokai to exorcise and onsen to visit."
She's never really mentioned what kind of yokai, has she?
"Oh, I never told you about the yokai! Sorry, my mind's been all over the place lately."
He isn't sure if he can ask why. She looks no different from how she usually does, anyway.
"But there's three so far."
"So far"?
"And all in separate locations, so there's a lot to see." She continues, "Jatai, kasha, and nobiagari. And if we're lucky, we might encounter Osakabe-hime."
She's one of the few who think encountering yokai is a good thing. But he hasn't heard a lot about those spirits she mentioned, doesn't even remember if the name Osakabe-hime was something he ought to know.
"I can tell you more about them once we touch down." She smiles, and he's reminded of that smile she had in his head–
No. Stop. Don't think about that.
He replies with a smile of his own, "I appreciate it."
"But really, thanks for coming with me, Nanami-san." She bows her head, "It's nice to get out of the city sometimes, yeah?"
He looks at his watch, it's only a few more minutes until boarding time, and agrees.
"Yeah."
The flight is an hour and a half, and he shouldn't feel this excited about sitting beside her for the entirety of it.
A/N: The excerpt is from Goethe's Christel.