"Shisui, thanks for walking me home," she says earnestly.
Her small stature gets her quietly panting for the sake of keeping with his long strides. But Nanami does not speak a word of complaint.
Eventually, Shisui's oblivious mind hones in on the sounds of her breathlessness and the pink flush that settles complacently across her cheekbones.
"This is terribly rude of me, sorry," Shisui says uncertainly.
He slows his pace until Nanami is walking evenly beside him. And though highly passive, her demeanour is saturated with relief.
"Not at all, it helps to walk off all that food. Speaking of which, I do have to thank you for treating all of us," Nanami answers gratefully, "I know it was only supposed to be for Izumi."
"No that's okay, it wasn't much and besides I've been earning more than spending with all those missions. It's nice to get out once in awhile," Shisui says cheerfully.
They have been walking for the past fifteen minutes, a good hike across the village he rarely visits.
The area is highly affluent, with larger hilltop houses and neatly manicured lawns that overlooks the sparkling village lights.
For the first time,Shisui is secretly glad to be far away from the stressors of home.
"It was also nice meeting you properly tonight," Nanami says ruefully.
She is looking rather meek as she tracks the landing of her footsteps.
"Likewise," he answers.
"You know, I never thought I'd ever get to know you. I mean, I'm surprised a prodigy like you turned out so nice," Nanami says.
Had it not been for her sweet, innocent tone, Shisui would think the statement is condescending.
"Heh? I'm not that scary am I?"
"Not that," she pauses, and there is a streak of red that flitters across her cheeks, "I always have this horrible impression of geniuses, that they tend to misuse their powers and look down upon others. I-It's really refreshing to see otherwise, particularly from someone as talented as you…"
Nanami trails off in lingering embarrassment. She stops abruptly in her tracks, as if the words she spoke were unknowingly expressed.
"I wouldn't call myself a prodigy, but thank you Nanami, that is really kind of you," Shisui says.
Nanami does not answer, but her face is unusually flushed.
They are silent the entire way, and though it may be a peaceful stillness on Shisui's end, it is less so on Nanami's.
When they reach the front of her resident, she mumbles a brief 'thank you.'
"Have a goodnight," he says brightly to her back.
And when he turns to leave, the sound of Nanami's voice is oddly shrilled.
"Shisui, would you like to go to the Council's Mission ceremony together?"
He can hear her rapid breathing, and the echoes of her nervousness, as if they are trapped in a claustrophobic soundproof room and their physicality is merging.
The years of battlefield experience may be a contributing factor to his extreme adeptness at decrypting complex emotions.
"Sure," he smiles.
x
The rain is easily a deterrent for wandering minds. Closing the distance between the outside world and the comfort of shelter is not an unusual goal. But Shisui is different. His mind is acutely attuned to changes in the environment. His level of vigilance is unsurpassable.
It comes with the responsibility of being a shinobi, particularly that of a team leader on missions where the risk of serious injuries or death sits at a nauseating sixty percent. The accountability is on him, and thus his mind is vigorously on alert, even on down days.
And tonight, under the piercing chill of winter and the angry forces of unsettling rain, he hears the commotion sheltered beneath the roaring sounds of elements.
"Stupid weirdo!"
The yelling, followed by heavy crashing, is swallowed by a deafening nature. But Shisui's sudden approach speaks otherwise to his level of wariness.
There are three men and one woman, surrounding someone who has fallen to the ground. Her belongings are scattered about, broken glass, books that are disheveled under the wetness of rain, and several leaking substance of something that trickles from toppled bottles.
Without internal questioning, Shisui instinctively knows the victim.
Honoka is sprawled against the ground, her chest pressed flat to the jagged, damp surface of concrete and her hair is filled with the essence of something yellow and green.
In the hands of the shortest man is a bottle containing a clear liquid that sizzles on contact with Honoka's clothes. When she turns to face them, there is a bizarre look of emptiness that exudes from her. She appears oddly vacuous to the unfolding situation, as if her mind is floating somewhere in another world.
But the sudden contact with the burning liquid sends a mild whimper that strongly indicates pain. Yet the vocalisation of such response is surprisingly minimal. Her face returns to its stony expression, and she begins the onerous task of pulling her belongings together as if nothing too extraordinary is happening.
The situation seemingly aggravates her bullies, particularly the woman, who decides to step on a familiar green package when Honoka is frantically reaching for it.
The action evokes a strong response from Honoka, whose face turns increasingly vexed. She does not act on such emotions, but her glazed watch transfixes itself on the package that is being ruthlessly decimated under the woman's shoes.
"Quit already. My sister is through with your annoying presence," the woman shouts, "Or, you can stay and I can continue playing with you for longer."
"Hey, quit that won't you?"
Shisui's approaching voice sends a tidal wave of frantic movement amongst the bullies. There is a tense silence that lasts momentarily, then the woman beckons the three men towards her.
"We won't bother fighting or arguing against a village prodigy, but this stupid bitch won't always have someone like you around to save her," the woman sneers.
The short man throws the now empty bottle at Honoka's head, then disappears with the others.
"Honoka! Are you alright?"
Shisui kneels beside her with a fractured look of concern across his face.
On Honoka's end, there is minimal unease, as if she is already used to such treatments and Shisui is the one overreacting.
"Shisui, how do you do?" She asks airily.
He stares at her in bafflement, but does not speak as he assists with collecting the strewn items across the grounds.
When he places the final object in her outstretched arms, Honoka momentarily stares at him in mild surprise.
There is a strange expression on her face, as if she only just noticed him and his presence is much more pleasant than she originally anticipated.
"Thank you, Shisui. I appreciate your assistance," she says politely.
Her bow is awkward, a half effort to balance the fragile items whilst exhibiting a bizarre and overly conservative display of gratitude.
"Honoka, lets get you dried up or you will catch a cold. My place is closest, I'll walk you back after, okay?"
Shisui's tone is insistent, though he is unsure whether she can read through such assertiveness.
Surprisingly, she gives a small nod and follows tentatively after him.
x
The rain's strength gains momentum. It hits against buildings and concrete grounds with thick, fat droplets before generating large ankle-length puddles in opportunistic places.
Shisui and Honoka make it on time to avoid the worst of elements. Their entirety is sheltered under the comfort of a warm, inviting house.
"Sorry Honoka, this is the smallest shirt I can find," Shisui says sheepishly, "Either way, it's better than being in drenched clothes."
She takes the shirt with immense curiosity and confusion.
"Shisui, thank you for this, but is this a gift?"
He did not expect the peculiar question.
"I wouldn't say it's a gift," he answers slowly, "But you can have it, considering I don't fit into it anymore. It's more of an emergency situation for you right now."
"I see."
"Get change, or you'll really catch a cold."
And Honoka nods before complying with his request.
Perhaps he has some component of trust in people to do things in a socially acceptable way, but he forgets about Honoka's indifference and lack of social appropriateness.
Her top is already raised halfway across her torso, the delicateness of her pale skin reflects against the illumination of dim lights before Shisui registers the situation.
"Honoka! What are you doing?" He flusters.
As if his body has its own mind, it involuntarily turns his head in the opposite direction with searing embarrassment.
"Getting changed, like you told me to," she answers solemnly.
"I didn't mean to do that right here!" He replies frantically.
He lets out a deep sigh.
"J-Just go into one of the rooms and change in there."
He points aimlessly somewhere behind him.
"Okay."
Her voice floats flippantly through the atmosphere, as if nothing abnormal is happening.
When Shisui finally hears the sound of a closed door, he lets out a deep exhale of relief.
"She could so easily be exploited and she wouldn't even know it," he mumbles miserably.
Honoka's impressionable personality sits relatively high on the impossible scale, yet Shisui cannot help but feel a twinge of uncertainty - that perhaps there is a component of repressed personality within her that can only be interpreted by instinct.