time out
A/N: So… I initially planned for this to be a lot shorter, but I have something else in mind since the Shibuya arc is going to be animated soon. And I had planned for OC's perspective to come in even later or not come in at all, but I couldn't help it. I just finished the eyes and the teeth and I wanted more closure.
Suggested tunes are from YOSHIKA, "Center of my Heart" and "Quiet Talk".
As always, feedback is greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading!
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).
There is a song on the radio. There are flowers on the counter. There are flowers on the counter again, and they are in full bloom. They are inoffensive against the bright green of the walls. Springtime, it is a reminder of springtime; bluebells, azaleas, lilies, daisies. The tattoo parlor was opened right next to a flower shop, and it's everybody's guess what the story behind that is. No, everybody knows the story behind it, and everybody loves the story of the rugged tattoo artist and sweet florist because it's a happy ending for everyone.
But it's not, because–
Today, the flower shop is no more and its space was bought by the tattoo parlor as an extension. Today, just like any other day, there are flowers where nobody expects them. There are flowers in bundles and bouquets, and some people know the tattoo parlor takes orders and delivers arrangements. It keeps the flower shop's clients happy. And everybody thinks they know the story behind it, but nobody really does. Nobody understands why. Nobody asks why.
But he does.
So the flowers remain in whatever they came in. The radio is still playing a song, but the words are blurry in the static. This is just one afternoon, a Thursday afternoon, and nobody really goes to get a tattoo done on a Thursday afternoon. Which is what Kento should have learned before coming here without warning, expecting her to be busy and not…
Well, he didn't expect her to be arranging a bouquet on the counter.
"Nanami-san, what are you doing here?"
She doesn't drop the flowers.
"I was in the area," he half-lied, "and I thought to drop by."
She looks between him and the flowers in her hands, "I wasn't really expecting anyone today, so I was taking care of these."
He looks at the finished arrangements on one side and decides to ask her, "Do you need any help?"
He knows she doesn't, and he doesn't know anything about flower arrangement, but he… What was he supposed to tell her? What was he doing here, anyway? No, he knows, he knows why and he's now starting to think that maybe he shouldn't have dared to listen to that small, nagging voice inside him. Maybe he should just say goodbye now and leave. Smile at her, tell her the flowers look nice, say goodbye, and leave.
"Thanks," she smiles, "but this is the last one."
He knows what to respond to that, but he isn't sure if he should say it.
"Next time," she places a final stem in the arrangement, "I do these every Thursday if you want to learn."
His response is on the tip of his tongue–
"Free of charge for friends and the community," she continued, "certain combinations can ward off unwanted spirits, you know."
He stops himself from speaking. Instead, he watches her spritz something onto the flowers.
"For safety," she whispers, "but I tell my customers it's for luck."
He smiles back at her. He's gotten used to smiling back at her now, after all the times she's smiled at him, all the times he's seen her smile, he's had it essentially imprinted in his brain, quietly wishing it'd be imprinted on his skin–
No, no, he will not let that voice speak.
"Here," she sprays it on her tattooed wrist before reaching out, "it's one of my family's recipes."
He understands that she wants him to smell it, but the voice misunderstands it to mean her–to smell her. So he steps carefully, moves tentatively, and leans down slowly. He understands the vague hint of intimacy in this gesture, but the voice wants to bring that forward. He understands it is better to do this than just spray it in the air, because if it does have the properties of a spiritual ward…
The voice tells him it would be much better if she sprayed it on her neck.
Enough!
He breathes in, and suddenly he's hyper-aware of her closeness, her skin, the tattoos on her wrist, her hand, her entire arm. Suddenly he's hyper-aware of his closeness, his clammy hands at his sides, his flushing cheeks, this would-be intimacy between them…
It's just like Ehime again.
He leans back fearing he might touch her, fearing his entire body will be set on fire if he touches her.
The voice tells him to lean back in and actually touch her.
"Is it rosemary? Oregano?"
The voice tells him to touch the skin of her wrist with his mouth and kiss her for the first time–
"Family secret," she takes her wrist back, "so my grandmother won't tell me, no matter how I try to stay in her good graces, but she sends them every month."
She opens a cupboard behind her and shows him several jugs with simple labels: Green, Blue, Red, Yellow.
"Despite their names, my grandmother refuses to confirm what the ingredients are," she shrugs, "I've asked her when she plans to tell me, but she just says when the gods deem it right."
She is still so mystical, isn't she?
The voice tells him he is so lucky to be in her presence, to still be so close to her without any worry or issue. But he understands her apprehension, her impatience. She is the supposed favorite among all her cousins. She is the supposed best of them all, isn't she? That's why she was sent to train under Satoru years ago, so the best could learn from the best.
So he hazards the question, "When do you think that would be?"
"The answer is a little unorthodox," she chuckles nervously, "no, it's actually very orthodox considering…"
She pauses.
He waits for her to continue.
She opens her mouth, but closes it again.
He wants to tell her she doesn't have to share it if she doesn't want to.
"Let's just say she isn't going to be writing her will anytime soon."
She shrugs it off easily, and he's left with more questions than answers again. Silence, except for the radio and the sound of her spraying the bouquets.
"He and I used to do these before."
Who– Oh.
"We used to do these special packages too, for Valentine's and White Day, we…" she pauses, then turns to him, "Sorry, you might be on your way somewhere."
"No, it's… it's fine," he replies softly, "I wanted to drop by."
"Wanted"? The voice is laughing at him now.
She makes a sound of surprise, and he thinks this is a good time to leave.
Yes, this is a good time to leave.
She hesitates, and the voice tells him her nervousness is good.
"Well," she looks up at the clock, "the courier service is due to arrive any minute now, so what do you want to do after?"
He didn't plan this to go this way, but there's no better time to invite her out… He decides to listen to the voice just this once.
He inhales, looks at something other than her, "I heard there's a nice café nearby."
Would she… No, she couldn't be…
"Sure," she smiles.
"Sure?"
He wishes he'd just shut his mouth.
"Yeah, my treat so it'll be one less thing I owe you," she nods.
"No, it's fine," he replies, "you've already…"
Already what, Kento? The voice has grown louder.
"No, I haven't," she laughs, "I still owe you a pair of pants, don't I?"
She still remembers that?
"And I owe Ieiri-senpai a vacation, so we're going to Hakone this weekend," she continued, "a girls' trip, even if she refuses to call it that. But there is yokai in the area, so maybe she is right."
"You're doing well," he smiles, "and Hakone is nice."
"Yeah? It's the yokai who're paying for everything, anyway," she shrugs, "and it's the yokai who're going to pay for a new pair of pants."
He wants to tell her it's nothing she needs to worry about, it's nothing she needs to pay for, because she saved his life. And that's already more than what he could ever ask from anyone.
Is it? The voice taunts him. Isn't there something else he could ask from her?
She's quick to sense his discomfort and apologizes, "Sorry, I know it's an old joke."
How long has it been exactly? A number of weeks? A few months? He admits he doesn't know her as long as Satoru or Ieiri, but he knows her enough, doesn't he? Her favorite color, her favorite food, as juvenile as it sounds, and about her… what should he call him? Her "ex"? He stops thinking about how much he knows and doesn't know about her when the courier service arrives. So he helps her out. He hands the arrangements to her, and she smiles at him and hands the arrangements to the courier.
He imagines how this would be if he was someone else, if he was the someone else, and frowns secretly. He imagines then what it would be like to be doing this with her every Thursday, like there was nothing else wrong with the world except how the stems aren't cut properly and some leaves are starting to brown–
"Nanami-san."
It's her voice that brings him back. She flips the store sign "CLOSED" then turns back to him.
"Where's this café you mentioned?"
When they make their way out the door and down the street, walking beside her, he thinks he's struggling to breathe.
The thing is, she thinks this is history repeating itself.
But it's a different time, a different place, and a totally different person. Hokkaido is different from Tokyo, and she is no longer the girl waving at the Akkorokamui with a boy who'd unwittingly offered the sea deity his own slipper. She is older now, she is a licensed onmyoji now, and the boy is… Well, this man beside her is not that boy. He's doesn't look or act anything similar, and he's a jujutsu sorcerer. She and him have more similarities this way, and if her grandmother knew–
No. She won't go there. She won't have her grandmother dictating what she does with these… What should she call them anyway? If this really was history repeating itself, then should she find out what these feelings are and what they could mean? And when she does, what then?
When they reach the café, she doesn't tell him it's his favorite café too. Instead, she tells him:
"This café is nice, Nanami-san. It's been a while since I last ate here."
Yes, he doesn't need to know, does he?
"Really?" He asks, "I've passed by a few times, but haven't thought of what to order."
Because pastel-colored and artfully decorated pastries aren't really a norm in this work of the supernatural, is it?
"That's the best-seller," she points to a tray, "let's go."
When they enter the café, the owner is the one to greet them, thanking her for the arrangements placed on the booths.
"It's nothing," she replies sheepishly. The praise shouldn't really go to her, she was just doing what Tatsuya had been doing before he passed. She was just doing as he'd done, as he'd loved doing. He and flowers always went together, always made sense. And her attempts at it has been fairly successful.
"Please," the owner says, "I want to thank you properly. Whatever you want, it's on the house today!"
How kind.
"Oh," she stammers, "please, we don't want to–"
"I insist!"
Tatsuya always valued the kindness of others, anyway.
"Well," she turns to him, "lucky you came with me, Nanami-san."
He doesn't say anything in reply, and she thinks that's best. She tells the owner they'll have two orders of the best-sellers, and when they're seated in a booth, she considers the flowers she'd arranged. The colors are mostly inoffensive and match the bright interior, but she considers what they mean. The small arrangements of tickseeds, China aster, and cosmos are pretty and unusual, but they mean something she doesn't want to bring up.
"The flowers are nice," he says, "a little unusual for places like these."
Of course, she thinks, he's sure to have seen all sorts of arrangements.
"Really, Nanami-san?" She chuckles, "What sort of arrangements do you usually see?"
That catches him off-guard, and she thinks she shouldn't have bothered asking.
"I'm not so versed, but I've seen dried wildflowers. Some daisies, roses, some artificial ones too."
She understands the ease of using dried wildflowers, the inoffensiveness of using daisies or roses, the practicality of using artificial ones.
"This café opened at around the same time as my shop," she tells him, "he and Tatsuya became fast friends, and the flowers followed every other week."
"Tatsuya?"
Oh! She shouldn't have brought him up!
"My…" she hesitates, not knowing how to refer to him, "boyfriend– former… ex. He was…"
She sighs, deciding there's no other opportunity to tell him, "He was killed by a yokai, a Jorogumo to be exact," she looks away, "sorry, I didn't want to bring it up back then."
His expression tell her he feels sorry for even asking.
"I'm sorry."
She doesn't tell him she doesn't want to hear that, but what else is she supposed to say? Should she tell him it doesn't matter anymore when it still does? Should she thank him for his sympathy and move to the next topic? Should she talk about the flowers and what they mean? Should she even bring that up because this isn't an appropriate time to talk about how these flowers symbolize love– Instead, she decides to ask him.
"A story like those tragic plays, huh?" She jokes half-heartedly, "Have you… Do you have anyone like that, Nanami-san?"
She decides to ask him that because she's never asked and she's always assumed that he does, and there's really no other time to ask but now, right? Because they're already on the topic, no matter how awkward and how much she wants to retract everything she's said.
"I did," is his quiet reply.
She listens, waits for him to continue.
"She was a… bakery owner."
She thinks it's adorable.
"I met her when I was still working," he pauses, "I always bought my lunch from her shop, and it just… It was easy."
She understands the feeling, and she hopes his story isn't as tragic as hers.
"She had no idea of the supernatural world, but she loved horror movies."
He smiles and she chuckles.
"But then one day, she told me she'd been feeling a soreness around her shoulders, but I immediately knew what it was and I… exorcized it. It wasn't any powerful spirit, but it was a nuisance. And whenever one was exorcized, another would soon appear. And I realized, the spirits weren't attaching themselves to her on purpose, it was because of me."
He frowns.
"They're leeches, and as long as I was around her, they'd follow me."
She doesn't know what to say to his story, except: "I'm sorry."
And that's how one should feel about their tragic love stories, right? Because sorcerers and onmyoji can never, ever simply be with normal people.
"She's safe now," he continues, "at least I hope."
She considers doing an act of kindness, but doesn't know if she's going to overstep. One way to find out, right? After all, Tatsuya always valued kindness and compassion.
"If…" she hesitates, "If it's all right with you, Nanami-san, I'd like to give her a warding totem."
"I haven't really passed by her bakery since then," he admits quietly, "but if that will help…"
She smiles at him, hopeful, "We'll stop by the shop, and you can pick out what she'll like."
And he smiles back, "Thank you."
Because they're good friends, right? And good friends do good things for each other, she tells herself.
When their orders arrive, a freshly-baked pastry and a warm drink, she tells him:
"What kind of flowers does she like?"
In her heart, she feels lighter.
When she suggests that act of kindness, Kento is starting to think she wants to become a bodhisattva. But it's already so in her character to be this level of kind that he doesn't really question it. And when she suggests the flowery maneki-neko, he remembers…
"She owned a cat before."
And she replies with a smile, "Oh, this will be perfect then."
Because she is just that kind. And when she pairs the maneki-neko with leftover orange blossoms, she tells him…
"She wouldn't already have a maneki-neko in her bakery, would she?"
"Not that I recall…"
And he's starting to think this was a bad idea to just come back in her life like nothing happened… But theirs wasn't any bad breakup, it was… They weren't even together, they just went on a few dates and… Maybe he should tell her now before she really starts to think of something else, because he likes her now and maybe he should tell her now– The voice tells him there's no better time that the present, but he retorts and says there's no better time than yesterday.
"We just went out a few times, that's all," he blurts out, "we weren't… like you."
And she stops moving, looks at him like she's done something wrong, but all she says is, "Oh."
The silence that follows feels suffocating.
"I told her I was transferring to another city," he continues, trying to cut through the silence, "and we couldn't see each other anymore. It's been some time, anyway, and we didn't really keep in touch… But we were… friends. She understood."
Does she?
"That would be awkward if you came in with a gift like this," she hums, "and I should have considered how you felt all this time–"
"No, it's," he cuts her off, "it's kind, what you're doing."
Too kind, he doesn't say.
"What my grandmother said must be true for jujutsu sorcerers too," she frowns, "that people like us can never really live in peace like everyone else."
But we can live together, the voice wants him to say.
"But I doubt it's you the spirits are attracted to, Nanami-san," she huffs, "there must be something else there. Not as big or sinister, but troublesome all the same."
She won't let this go, will she?
"Okay," he says, "I'll… come with you."
She nods and places the maneki-neko and the orange blossoms in a paper bag bearing the name of the flower shop. He walks ahead of her and offers to carry the bag, but she insists. Let her act as the courier, the messenger. If there's yokai to be exorcised and people to be saved, she told him, she'd like to see the 7:3 Sorcerer do it on his own time.
"Who knows, there might be a nest of those things nearby," she commented off-handedly.
And she was right. Behind the building, there was a foreclosed house that emanated a foul and putrid smell. He wonders briefly why he didn't notice it before. On his watch, it read 2:59PM.
"Counting this as overtime, Nanami-san?"
He waits for the clock to show exactly 3:00PM, before he replies, "My shift's just starting."
You're so cool, Kento, the voice taunts him.
"Okay then," she chuckles, "just let me know when you're done."
And he ends it at exactly 3:35PM.
He's wiping the sweat off his brow and adjusting his tie when she greets him, "Right on time, Nanami-san. The bakery's started a half-off sale."
Still, he doesn't think he can go inside like he did before. Things are different now. He likes someone else now. He likes the person standing in front of him now.
Why can't you admit it to her right now, Kento?
"But the maneki-neko and the orange blossoms will have to be left here," she frowns, approaching the foreclosed house, "by their front door like a lost delivery parcel."
She places the bag by inside the bushes near the front door and delivers a murmured prayer, before returning to his side.
"That should hold for a while," she explains, "nobody would really look in the bushes."
When they make their way back to the main street, he tells her again:
"Thank you. You didn't have to, but… thank you."
"It's nothing, Nanami-san," she smiles, "now what did you usually buy from there?"
"Their sandwiches."
When she approaches the bakery, he doesn't follow her. When she looks back at him, he smiles at her and knows she'll understand why. She nods, smiles back at him, and makes her way inside.
The windows are clear and the interior is bright, and he can see… He can see her at the cash register like before, smiling and greeting customers brightly like always. She hasn't changed a bit. She is still so bright. He doesn't think his heart can take it, so he turns away. He turns away and sighs, and thinks he's reverted to being the green salaryman who found the smallest and easiest comforts in a warm sandwich and even warmer smile.
"Nanami-san."
But when he sees her, his heart feels like it's going to explode.
"I got two of their best-sellers," she hands him one bag, "and I can understand why it's your usual."
"Thanks."
He feels like the air's sudden gone from warm to hot.
"I might pass by here more often," she chuckles, "just to check on the maneki-neko."
He doesn't know what to say to her kindness, except–
I'm in love with you.
–except reject the voice from ever, ever being heard out loud.
"This is nice, Nanami-san," she says, and he already knows what she's going to say next.
"I'd like to do this with you again."
No– No, he didn't know she'd say that. It doesn't take him three days to realize that was their first date, it just takes him three seconds. But because he's too flabbergasted and unsure of what to say, she beats him to it.
"See you around."
She waves him goodbye and walks away.
"Me too."
He says it late, but not too late because she looks back at him briefly and he hasn't really seen that soft and surprised expression on her face before, but–
I'm in love with you.
–but he thinks he likes it on her.
The thing is, she thinks she's falling in love with him.
But it's not the same way as Tatsuya, because Tatsuya is the… the ideal. The soft-spoken, extra-kind, warmth that Tatsuya has is nothing like what he has. Maybe it's the tiredness he carries with him, the weight of it all. If Tatsuya was light and bright, then he is… heavy and… overwhelming. He isn't a Grade 1 sorcerer for nothing. He isn't Satoru's favorite for nothing. But was it that weight that attracted her? Or was it… the idea of it all?
Kento Nanami is nothing eccentric or extravagant. Nothing like the boisterous Satoru Gojo or the ever-mysterious and dead-pan Ieiri Shoko. She knew very few sorcerers of the jujutsu community, and those she does know, she still doesn't know enough. Ms. Mei Mei is intimidating in her own right, and she only knows those from Kyoto by name. So Kento Nanami, she thinks, is the closest to being a "normal" person.
And he'd had a taste of it, he'd even wanted it–probably as much as her–because he thought to leave this supernatural work behind and live like everyone else… But her grandmother is right, like she always is, the supernatural world will never, ever leave them.
She's never really thought of him as anything more than a colleague, a friend, an ally– but she has felt about him as something else. Nothing like Tatsuya, but close enough.
"Kento, so that's how it's written."
Maybe she should have never dared to do what she did in Ehime if she knew what it would cause. She never had the gift of foresight, so she never could have foreseen how she'd feel about him now. His name on her skin, her name on his skin… What was she thinking? Didn't she know what that implied? When she and Tatsuya– Well, they were children when they wrote each other's names on their arms with ballpoint pens. She's an adult now, she ought to know better now.
So how does she feel about it?
"I'd like to do this with you again."
She looks at the flowers in the apartment, and regrets telling him that earlier. But should she really? When he replied–
"Me too."
–and caused her to stand still in shock and surprise, but relief that she didn't just burst out in tears at the idea that he might be in love with her too.
She looks at the space where Tatsuya would be, and thinks of what he'd say to her.
"I want you to love."
Of course, because Tatsuya was never the jealous type. Never the selfish type. Tatsuya is perfect and flawless in all the ways she tries to be. But she has never seen Kento the same way she sees Tatsuya, and that should be good, right? She doesn't see Kento with such purity and love and grace, she sees him with something else, with something she is almost afraid to admit. When she looks at Kento, for the briefest and shortest of instances, she thinks something… raw has been reawakened in her, and that wouldn't be fair for either of them.
Still, seeing him after he'd destroyed the nest… she, for the briefest of instances, thought about wiping the sweat off his face and combing his hair back with her own two hands.
This isn't fair.
A/N: Nanamin x Bakery Girl is/was canon and I will fight for it.