The Messy Science of Attraction and Repulsion

26. (Got to Have) Faith/It's the One Thing

It was abundantly sunny and warm out, with nothing but clear blue skies serving as the day's backdrop to the bustling outdoor market. It was yet another early Saturday, but instead of training (because Nanami was endeavoring to, in Gojo's words, 'loosen up a bit'), he'd decided to take the boys out to the farmer's stalls to look for some fresh ingredients that would work in a simple omelette. The thing that had prompted this odd little excursion was both ridiculous and vaguely horrifying in equal measure to Nanami. And it had happened exactly one week prior…

"What is this?" Gojo had asked him, standing in the middle of Nanami's steel brushed kitchen.

"What is…what?"

"This?" He pointed up at the rack of copper pans and utensils hanging over the island.

Nanami, with his mouth hanging open, had answered:

"It's a…whisk."

"Oh. And what do you use it for?"

Oh. Hell. No.

This absurd exchange had led Nanami to come up with this little weekend field trip, because he was determined that Megumi and Yuta were not going to grow up completely feral and unacquainted with basic kitchen equipment. So not only was he going to teach them how to exorcise curses, he was going to give them basic cooking lessons as well. Because no kid of his was going to be left to founder without any appreciable adult life skills…

…and it was also not lost on Nanami that he'd begun to think of them as 'his' kids. He couldn't pinpoint the exact moment when this mental change in label had taken place, only that it had snuck in, ninja-like, silent and without warning, invading and inhabiting his thoughts like a squatter who now refused to leave. It was a simple little three letter possessive, 'his', yet it was one that heralded a massive shift in their relationship dynamic. Which was dangerous. Because right now Nanami was still basically stuck in the part of 'weekend dad.'

Not that this arrangement signaled a lack of progress on his part. On the contrary, there had been definite improvements happening in small yet noticeable increments across the board, in what he now mentally referred to as The Gojo Situation.

It had been a little under a month since Nanami and Gojo's 'talk' in the kitchen. A talk which served as the starting point to a whole new 'getting to know each other' period in their relationship. A kind of soft reboot of things, if you will. Ever since the spectacular failure of Nanami's rather unfortunate (and wholly miscalculated) siege attempt, Nanami now made it a point to leave the ball almost entirely in Gojo's court. He didn't push. He didn't pry. He didn't exert control. And other than seeing to both Yuta and Megumi's well being, he tried (with an epic shit ton of effort on his part) to just leave well enough alone.

Because Nanami found that sometimes in order to get control, you had to give up control…

The gains garnered from this new (non)strategy at first glance would appear, at least from the outside, vanishingly small and ephemeral and unremarkable. But from Nanami's viewpoint, the rewards were massive, valuable as pure gold, and ultimately, just as precious.

The change was slow. It came padding in on silent feet, skittish as a stray cat: at random times, in short bursts, and at various impromptu places. There was a definite pattern to it though, which Nanami was surprised to note. Gojo's testing of Nanami's own boundaries was subtle in a way that was completely out of character for the strongest (and loudest, most immature, and arguably egotistical) sorcerer. The first thing Nanami noticed was that Gojo did not fuck with Nanami's own set-in-stone schedule. He slotted himself in and around it, randomly appearing at times he knew Nanami would not object. Like the coffee shop in the morning. Now instead of going up to the counter to order, half the time Gojo would already be there, waiting at a table with Nanami's triple shot (that the baristas had taken to drawing little hearts in the top of, much to Nanami's dismay). This would give them about twenty minutes together in the morning to touch base. It was such a short amount of time, a seemingly insignificant (and somehow significant) amount of time, yet Nanami started to find himself looking forward to these brief meetings. So much so that he felt disappointed on the days when Gojo didn't turn up.

It was quite the change, considering that just three months prior he was having conniptions over Gojo's mere presence in the shop.

What Nanami mostly learned from these short conversations was that despite not owning a tie or even knowing what a whisk was, Gojo Satoru was a very busy person. Besides handling the four first years at the school (a collection of oddballs handpicked by him), he was constantly on the go: to meetings, to overseas flights, to school business, to clan business. And all sorts of things everywhere and in between. He was truly the Atlas of the jujutsu world, holding it all up by his strength alone, just as he had once said to Nanami in school. Gojo had an insane schedule that put Nanami's own to shame. Yet he tackled it all with a boundless energy (cursed or not), a seemingly endless well that Nanami was frankly in awe of. Gojo never allowed himself to slow down or falter. There was never an eye twitch, or a sign of a single bag (never mind a full rack of luggage) in evidence ever under Gojo's luminous ocean blue eyes. In this way, he seemed completely infallible and indefatigable.

This should have been intimidating. And to anyone else but Nanami, it probably would have been. But Nanami was a practical man, and a pragmatist. He knew his limits, and he accepted them. He had never been able to climb any higher than first grade. He had never achieved a domain expansion. But that was okay because Nanami had other talents, other advantages. To start with, he owned several ties and he knew what a fucking whisk was. And he knew how to use it. He rather fancied that he could make a very mean omelette. And he himself had zero interest in holding up the jujutsu world…

…only because his interest these days lay in holding up the man who did.

Days passed by with Nanami quietly entertaining Gojo's various arrivals and departures. Hit and runs, as Nanami came to mentally call them. He could sense a hesitancy there that Nanami forced himself to not touch or even comment on. Only to observe and accommodate. It was difficult, because Nanami was a man of action. He was a planner and a problem solver. Inaction was not his strong suit. Yet he had enough faith in this one thing, this one endeavor, to just sit back and wait. And after almost a week, he was rewarded with yet another slight behavioral shift.

Gojo started showing up at Nanami's house post dinner (once again, minding the set schedule). It was strange at first. There was a level of discomfort, an unavoidable awkwardness to it at the beginning. It really was like they were both teenagers again, getting to know each other from scratch. Nanami's way of handling it was to quietly and methodically go about his normal evening tasks: washing the dinner dishes and putting them away, doing post kitchen clean up, prepping ingredients for the next day. Gojo's way of handling it was to talk while Nanami worked: about his students, about their strengths and foibles, about their personalities and their progress. What began as an awkward exchange soon enough turned into a normal routine, a set rhythm shared between the two of them. Repetition built ease—both ease of discussion, as well as a mutually agreed upon choreography, a kind of domestic dance of give and take. And then around two weeks in, Nanami made a calculated decision to tweak this routine slightly, to push his own evening schedule up by an hour so that dinner time now coincided with Gojo's arrival instead of it ending before he got there. And Nanami, of course, made sure to prepare two portions.

This small but significant change was barely even remarked upon by Gojo. The first time it happened he simply took his place across from Nanami at the dinner table, seating himself there as if it were something he had always done, and would always do. Nanami had even prepared a dessert—nothing outlandish mind you, just some powdered beignets—but he explained this away by remarking that he had taken up a newfound interest in baking, and was working his way through some recipes. The smile he earned for his new culinary efforts was well worth it, along with each proceeding smile that followed it. And then, around three weeks in, another shift took place…

Instead of leaving directly after dinner, per his usual (newish) routine, Gojo began to linger. The first night this happened, it came as a complete surprise, because Nanami had fully expected him to disappear like always. Nanami had even gone so far as to leave the kitchen (conscripted neutral territory it seemed), retreating to his living room couch. There, he booted up his laptop, and started going through his own personal finance reports. Because at this point, Nanami still hadn't quite gotten over his obsession with money. Though he had begun to 'loosen up a bit', so to speak, his anxiety around his own finances still held him firmly in its sway. He was deep into his own reports when he felt the couch springs suddenly give. A warm weight shifted next to him, and he felt the tickle of hair and a brush of a chin, as Gojo curled up next to him on the couch, leaning his head against Nanami's shoulder and…

…Nanami had instinctively slid his arm around him, gently holding him close, as if this too was something they had always done, and would always do.

"Why are you obsessing over financial stuff when you're not at work?" Gojo had asked him after a moment.

"Because it's my financial stuff and some of us weren't born rich," Nanami had answered back without taking his eyes off the screen. "I have to look after my own financial security."

"Security? I think you're just obsessed with money," Gojo had responded. "Protected by money, lulled by money, dulled by money. Money, money everywhere and still not enough. Then no money or a little money or less money or more money. But money, always money…tch."

Nanami had promptly stopped typing at this strange remark. Because it had an oddly familiar ring to it. He then typed what Gojo had just said into the laptop's search bar. Nanami discovered that it was a quote from the book Tropic of Cancer by Henry Miller published in 1934. Nanami's eyebrow immediately shot up at this. Of all the things that had come out of Gojo's mouth over the last three weeks, this one was easily the most unexpected and surprising, to the point that Nanami had felt the need to call him out on it.

"Did you just seriously quote the book Tropic of Cancer to me?"

Gojo had just shrugged, "Why, did you read that one?"

"Thirteen or fourteen years ago maybe? I went through a whole hardcore classics phase when I was young—"

"—that's awfully young to be reading something that pornographic. You know it was banned on obscenity charges—"

"—well, of course, that was part of the reason teenage me wanted to read it."

"I read Tropic of Capricorn too. Don't remember much of that one though…"

…and that was the moment, right there. Not in the middle of some grand romantic gesture, set in some public yet photo ready location. Not after some mind blowing sex session (that had yet to take place) where everyone was dizzy with desire. Not on a windswept cliff's edge like some character in a Brontë novel. No, just sitting on a regular off white couch after a normal dinner talking about some esoteric book from one hundred years ago. That was the moment when Nanami first had the clear and precise thought:

I think I love this man…

As Gojo gradually drifted off into sleep, Nanami found himself contemplating his face, the same face he had fallen for nearly ten years ago. With only the quiet sound of his breathing filling the air, he appeared an angel in repose. Pale and perfect, incomparable as always, eyelashes still thick yet translucent like frost on a window pane. Just like he was in Nanami's memories. Changed yet unchanging, along with all of Nanami's own unreachable wants and dreams.

But those dreams, once thought long abandoned, or pushed down and replaced by miserly aims and frivolous goals, now seemed more than possible.

They were well within reach. They were now as close as his arms, as the air near his fingers…

It was only a couple of days after this couch cuddling induced moment of revelation that the whole 'whisk' incident in the kitchen had happened, the very impetus for this current Saturday's outing. Normally Gojo would have come to the house with Yuta, and it would have been the four of them spending the morning together (not just as a formidable fucking unit as Shoko had once described them, but rather as a formidable fucking family unit). Gojo, however, was currently away, set to board a red eye flight in some far off city on the continent that would deliver him back to Nanami later in the day. So Nanami took this opportunity to go to the farmer's market with the boys, because he knew that Gojo would have just turned his nose up at all the fruits and vegetables and other healthy items on display anyway.

"I think we should get this!" said Yuta. He was standing in front of a stall, brandishing a whole watermelon over his head.

"That's not really something you'd put in an omelette," Nanami responded diplomatically, reminding him of their initial objective. "Think eggs. Think mushrooms. Think spinach. Think peppers. Think—"

"—cheese!" Megumi interjected. "Tons and tons of cheese—"

"—not too much cheese!" After seeing Yuta's face fall, Nanami relented. "Ok fine, too much cheese. Go ahead and get the watermelon too. We can dice it up and put it on the side." Yuta immediately brightened again.

Damn, thought Nanami. I'm becoming soft in my old age.

"Can we get more than one kind of cheese?" asked Megumi with a hopeful tone.

"Yes."

And so it went. The boys flitted from stall to stall as they worked their way down the narrow lane. The morning market occupied an old alleyway that was once home to a busy shopping complex. But no longer. Behind and above the makeshift market stalls were the old rusty signs and tattered awnings that denoted what used to be there. Old defunct shops and long abandoned cafes and handmade craft stores. At one point Yuta came up to Nanami and said, "You know, this place reminds me of that shopping center that Toge and I exorcised a few weeks ago. It also has the same kinda…off feeling to it."

Nanami didn't remark on this. He had in fact noticed the hint of dark cursed energy lurking somewhere behind the facades a few stalls back, but had been determined not to say anything. After all, they were here on an ingredient hunting expedition not a curse hunting expedition. And he didn't even have his cursed tool with him.

As they drew close to the end of the lane, Nanami called to both boys: "Okay, I think we have enough. Let's head ba—"

—a child's scream cut through the air, coming from a tall brick building with broken windows at the end of the row. Before Nanami could even react, Yuta was off and running, moving with a speed that would have been beyond him a couple of months ago. As he moved, he pulled off the cloth covering from the katana at his back. It would have been impossible to stop him; Yuta had such a soft spot for children. Nanami made a mental note to lecture him about reigning in his impulses later.

Megumi looked to Nanami for direction, who just nodded and said, "Go."

"I've got the perimeter!" Megumi called, running to catch up with Yuta.

Nanami followed at a distance, allowing the boys to go ahead, defaulting to a "trust but verify" method of teaching. He knew they were both strong; it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that if it came down to it, Yuta would be more likely to come to Nanami's rescue than the other way around at this point. But Megumi was a different story. Even though he was a good fighter who was adept at coordinating with others (like now), Nanami had to admit that Gojo's original estimation of Megumi's weaknesses were correct. Megumi always allowed Yuta to take point; as usual, he had defaulted to the role of support. Nanami was still struggling with the best way to address this lack of initiative, this lack of confidence, without Megumi going off and blaming Gojo (because he always blamed Gojo) for initially coloring his view.

A dog howled in the distance, signaling Megumi's location. Nanami checked the building's courtyard before moving toward the rickety, semi-attached fire escape that he had seen Yuta scale a few moments earlier. His hand automatically moved to the hatchet on his back that wasn't there. He dropped his hand, cursing his own lack of preparedness. Maybe he really was going soft in his old age…

Glass blew out of a side window and Nanami's head swung to the right. But what came out of the broken frame was a basketball, bouncing across the ground, a seemingly innocent but somehow malevolent omen. Nanami watched it slowly roll to a stop at the base of the fire escape. And that's when a shadow fell across the ground from above, spiky and grim and black.

"NANAMIN!"

The curse was almost on him before he even knew it. Nanami's one absurd thought was:

I must be working waaaaay too many hours if I've gotten this sloppy…

Nanami jumped back on instinct, pressing against the blackened brick wall beneath the ladder, narrowly avoiding being set upon. The curse, which looked like a kind of humanoid ant eater, didn't have time to make another pass before Yuta reappeared, dropping down from above and cleaving it in two. The mess this caused was spectacular: blood spattered everywhere, and Nanami, unfortunately, took the brunt of it. The wall, his clothes, his face, all ended up looking like a particularly gory Jackson Pollock painting. Yuta looked positively mortified. Nanami simply took off his glasses and wiped uselessly at the now oozing frames, sighing long and hard and dramatically at all the mess.

Megumi appeared at the courtyard entrance with the little boy that Yuta had rescued and everyone was staring, wide eyed, at the fallout. What was even worse, the curse didn't dissipate. Its carcass was still there, staying well and truly put…

…which meant Nanami was now going to have to serve up another hard lesson, right in the middle of the farmer's market during what was supposed to be a family outing.

So much for his Saturdays being sacrosanct…

To be continued…