"love, no... don't go," nanami rasped, voice low still laced with sleep. his breath tickled the back of your neck as he spoke. the hold of his hand around your waist was somehow tighter, even after when you thought you couldn't possibly get any closer than this; your back on his chest without any space in between.
"let me gooo, i want to make my coffee," you whined softly, the tone made it apparent that you couldn't hold a smile at the sight of your usual collected man being so clingy. provoking him further, you once more tried to release the grasp of his hand on your stomach. the man responded with a disapproving grunt, the vibration from his lips against your skin made you shiver.
"stay, please. i'll make it for you later," he pleaded, trailing lazy kisses along your shoulder blade in hope to get you stay in bed, going as far as bringing his leg over both of yours, practically keeping you in his embrace. you chuckled.
"but i want it now," you replied, yet despite those words you couldn't help but put your hand on his cheek, seeing how the blond nuzzled closer to it, chasing the contact like a cat basking under the attention.
"not yet," he murmured, doubling down by gently turning you over, bringing you closer as you rested your head on his chest. you caved under his relentless touch, both his arms folded snugly behind your back. nanami wore a satisfied smile, like he just achieved something great. "i need another hour of this. of you."
"didn't know i'll be held hostage in some mornings when i went into this marriage," you teased, the comfort of his warm hug made you abandon the scheme you never planned to follow through. your fingers made their way to draw random patterns on the navy shirt he was wearing.
he caught your digits, planting a soft kiss at the back of your hand, "and you promised to accept me as i am in your vow, so i'm afraid you'll have to put up with this for the rest of your life."
𝜗℘ ˖ ࣪ . ˖˙ husband!nanami hurries home when he hears you say you miss him over the phone :: tags. fluff.
“i miss you, hubby,”
—is all you said to your husband over the phone last night. kento had flown out of the country earlier that morning for a business trip and his absence was bothering you more than you expected it to.
but when you uttered those four words to him, you didn’t expect kento to appear at your doorstep not even a couple hours later. you stand frozen as your brain processes who you’re seeing in front of you.
“ken?” his nickname slips out of your mouth in a confused whisper.
kento lets out a breathy chuckle. a small smile plays at his lips at your surprise—exactly the reaction he expected.
“hello there, sweetheart,” he murmurs and steps inside before pulling you into a gentle hug, “i’m home.”
you don’t hesitate to hug him back. your head rests against his chest, hearing that familiar heartbeat that soothes your nerves. you stay like that for a good few moments before tilting your head back to look him in the eyes.
“so soon? i mean—i’m not complaining at all, but wasn’t your business trip an important one?” you ask, half worried that kento will get in trouble for dodging his missions.
the blonde man shakes his head. a large hand comes up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing over your lower lip as he admires your beauty. “nothing is more important than coming back to my wife when she says she misses me,” kento responds.
you flutter your lashes as you realise what had driven him to come back before his business was taken care of. it’s all because you whined at him over the phone, telling him you miss him—his presence, his touch, his scent.
the power you have over that man is quite mind boggling now that you think of it.
“no need to worry. i pulled some strings,” kento lowers his head to press a loving kiss to your forehead.
…ah, right. poor ino, you muse quietly as you realise the hidden meaning behind his words. kento’s protégé always covers for your husband whenever he needs it. you’re thankful for the young man.
you giggle before leaning in to plant your lips against kento’s. he returns the kiss with passion, one hand holding the nape of your neck while the other splays over the small of your back. your lips move in perfect sync until you’re breathless.
kento presses his forehead against yours after his ‘welcome home’ kiss. you open your eyes and find him smiling at you like you’re his entire world. a gentle smile only you’re able to witness.
your husband sneaks in another quick kiss before ducking his head, burying his face into the crook of your neck to breathe in your scent. he knows it’s not even been twenty four hours since you’ve last seen each other, but he needs you like crazy.
kento closes his eyes and his body relaxes in your embrace. he empties his head—no more stressing about anything business related. all that matters right now is his wife.
he leaves a small peck on your throat;
“i missed you more, dear. way more than you think.”
fluff central. couple not ‘together, together’ yet. au of some kind.
kento nanami always asked first.
when he asked where you wanted to go for your third date, you answered: anywhere with dancehall and good-ass jamaican food.
though not necessarily specific, it left the man on a hunt for almost two days to find the perfect spot to take you, and as soon as did, he booked the reservation.
you heard a knock on your office door at work, and you were quickly met with his gaze as you swung the door open. with his hands clasped behind his back, a comforting exhale left his nose the moment he saw you. his lips rested in a natural line, though his eyes behind his glasses remained soft and neutral.
“picked a spot?” you asked innocently, eyes meeting his gaze above you.
his lips curved into a smile as he rested his forearm on the doorway. forever the gentleman, he stayed outside of your office, suede dress shoes just at the entry.
the kento nanami you knew—the one you knew since starting this job last year—just never realized how sexy he looked unintentionally, just simply towering over you.
“is it okay if i pick you up tonight?”
you shrugged slowly, a chuckle escaping your lips.
“i suppose that’s okay, mr. nanami.”
“i should add that it’s within walking distance of your place,” he stated, arm still rested against the doorway. “if you will allow me, i’d love to walk with you there—and back.”
you twisted back and forth, face scrunched up as if you were truly in deep thought and not screaming internally in excitement. you were completely fine with the offer, but you just wanted to tease the always delighted blonde. you halted your twist and answered:
“i’ll allow.”
“wonderful. i’ll be at your place at 7.”
and at 6:57, mr. kento nanami stood outside of your brownstone, manhattan apartment right above the fenced stairway.
“hello again.” he bowed once you opened the door. as he straightened back up, his eyes met your curls pinned up in a high bun, lifting all of the features he was drawn to since your first day.
“hello kento,” you spoke, voice warm with excitement.
“you look beau-” kento blurted before pausing. he took a calculated gulp in hopes of finding the words he was never used to losing. “your hair,” he stammered. “it’s lovely.”
your eyes then met his fingers outwardly stretch, exposing his full palm. he quickly placed it back in his pant pocket. you bit your lip and met his hazel eyes once again.
“thank you, kento.”
“do you have everything you need?” he looked up at the two clouds wanting to introduce themselves. “i brought an umbrella just in case it rains on the way back.”
“i have everything here.” you showed off your shoulder bag.
you hurriedly exited the brownstone, turning to lock the door, and walked towards kento and the stairs. you slipped your fingers into his as you both walked down.
“is this alright?” he asked beside you.
you reached the end of the stairs and both of your gazes dropped to where both of your hands joined.
“holding your hand?” you asked.
“yes.”
“well, i did grab yours, ken.” you looked up at him eyes scrunched trying to understand the man before you.
“i know,” he responded. his eyes trailed up your arm met your eyes. “i would still rather ask.”
you’ve watched the man negotiate corporate mergers with little to no preparation, but here he was, third date and all, asking if it were okay for you to grab his hands.
“you’re a bit strange, kento,” you said, shaking your head and smiling at him.
mouth curved in a full smile, kento responded: “only a bit?”
“the strangest, actually.”
you both shared a laugh and fell into step beside one another.
the date blurred into a night of warm music, shared plates of oxtail, rices and peas, plantains, and laughter that came from jokes only you two understood. he watched you dance in the middle of the crowd when a song you loved came on, joined when you wanted him to dance—even if you found him slightly stiff, found the quiet corners when you wanted to chat, and made another date simply effortless and easy.
but of course, like always, he asked before he did anything.
when he wanted to pull your chair closer so he could hear you over the music, he asked first.
when a slower song blared through the speakers, he mouthed the words, “would like you to dance,” from his seat to you, who was already on the dance floor.
and when he guided you to the door through the crowd, he turned back and held your hand, pulling you closer to him. he gave you a smile before asking, “still okay?”
walking along the manhattan street, side by side, you were still on a rejuvenated high from the dancehall lounge. you were skipping alongside him at first, lost in bliss of the music that echoed in your mind. spinning as though the world was lighter, you raised your arms towards the night sky.
“you had fun?” kento teasingly asked, admiring your world from up close.
“meh,” you answered, watching your feet attempt to walk across the lines separating blocks of the pavement.
“meh?” he questioned, playfully placing his hand on his chest.
your grin widened.
“okay, i lied. the night was perfect.”
you could feel a bit of raindrops dot your face and shoulders. as you still danced, you caught kento glancing up, letting the rain hit his face as he moved beside you. though late, the city still buzzed around you, headlights reflecting in small puddles of water along the curb.
still grooving to the beat only in your head, you stepped toward the edge of the street.
before you could complete it, a warm hand settled against your waist. your cheeks warmed and breath hitched as kento pulled you away from the curb. your back brushed against his chest for only a second before he guided you to the inside of the sidewalk.
you both continued walking for a moment.
“my apologies,” he finally spoke, breaking the silence.
“for what?”
“for grabbing you like that without asking,” he stated, slight irritation in his tone. “i shouldn’t have had you walking near the street, anyway.”
you stared at him for a moment, remembering you were dealing with the strangest man you ever met, but also the most endearing.
“i was about to walk into traffic. when were you gonna ask me?” you teased.
he shrugged and kept on walking.
“kento.”
“yes?”
“you know you don’t have to ask me all the time.”
he stopped walking and faced you. you noticing him stop, you stopped too and met his towering gaze. his glasses had a few drops painted on them, while his strands of blonde had fallen across his forehead.
for a moment, he only looked at you.
“ask you what?”
“you know…to touch me.”
“well, it wouldn’t be fair to me—or you—to just do what i feel like. especially you,” he replied, biting his lip and furrowing his brows.
his gaze dropped briefly.
“its too bold.”
despite the cold droplets steadily beginning to soak your shirt, a shutter far from the rain spread through your chest.
“well you’re very bold when you insist on leading during our meetings,” you said. “or when you barge into the higher-ups office and tell them they would be making a mistake by laying me off.”
his eyes widened at the last line. you saw as his lips begin to mouth “how did—” before cutting him off.
“never mind that! from what you’ve told me—shown me, you’re very protective of those you care about. that’s bold.”
he had a quick and complete answer for almost anything said to him. but with you, you could see the corner of his eyes scrunch and the adjusting of his fingers whenever he was in a deep conversation with you—like he couldn’t just place you.
he looked down at the puddle below him, his hazel eyes on the reflection of the part that painted you. he met your gaze again.
“well,” he began. “i suppose i’m the boldest when i know i know i’m making the right decisions.”
“well after three dates, i would hope you know whether or not i’m the right decision.”
the rain intensified around you both, splashing onto the pavement.
a small frown painted his face.
“your hair is getting wet.”
you blinked, eyes stinging from the drops.
“okay, yours is too.”
“but i love yours.”
before you could even respond, he reached for your hand and jogged past two further brownstones before reaching your stairway.
as he brought you up the stairs and to your door, he placed his hands above your head—not covering you from all the rain but most.
you stayed facing him instead of turning and unlocking your door for shelter.
“you have to get inside,” kento asserted.
“am i the right decision?”
“pardon?” his brows furrowed, face inching towards you to make sure he heard you correctly.
“you said, you’re the boldest when you know you’re making the right decision,” you retorted. you swallowed hard as you felt your voice began to shake. “so i stand here, before i have to look at you again tomorrow, and i ask you again: am i-”
before you could even finish, kento hands were on your waist, no longer caring how and if the drops land on you. the words he had been attempting to piece together in his head had disappeared as he pulled you even closer and kissed you.
his hands around your waist tightened, but somehow still softened around you, making your shoulders and knees feel almost like putty. your hands managed to find a place around his neck and shoulders.
as your lips separated, he gently placed his forehead against yours, taking deep exhales as the rain continued to bounce off each others shoulders.
“i knew the answer from the moment i saw you,” he breathed. “it’s why i had the courage to talk to you in the first place.”
you could only grin, feeling your stomach flutter.
he gave you a quick peck before he placed his hands above you again, still trying to shield you from the rain.
“well i do have another question for you…”
“go for it.”
“would you like to come in?”
“i would love to.”
when you were unlocking the door, another question popped in your head.
“didn’t you bring an umbrella?”
you turned your head teasingly and watched as his ears changed from his natural hue to pink.
“i left it at the lounge,” he admitted, voice soft. “when i realized, i was too ashamed of myself for risking you having to walk all the way back with me because of my mistake.”
you only smiled at him before darting your eyes back to door.
“i know, i know: i’m the strangest.”
you chuckled and reached for his hand above you, and led him into your home for the first time.
"ken, are you even listening to me?" you scolded the man lightly, after finding he had planted yet another kiss to your face as you spoke, his expression was playful when he pulled away; almost childlike.
"i am. what made you think otherwise?" both corners of his lips turned upward just a tad, as though unmoving if you didn't know any better, if you hadn't spend the past few years of your life staring at your husband's handsome face, memorizing its features.
you narrowed your eyes in disbelief but spared him anyway, decided to continue away the story you'd been telling him. "and then she said..." you carried on, chattering animatedly about something you'd claimed was the craziest thing ever all the while nanami was proceeding with his initial plan; bringing both of his hands to tuck your hair behind your ears, stroking it over and over softly. never forgetting to nod a few times like letting you know that he's still listening.
"mhm, keep going, my pretty wife." he murmured, cupping your face as he stared at you adoringly before sprinkling kisses atop of it, different spots each time making sure he didn't miss even a single inch of your skin. a kiss to your eyelids each, cheeks, and when he reached your nose you couldn't help but let out a chuckle, at that nanami beamed.
"i'm starting to think you're not listening at all," you berated the man with an ear to ear grin, your attempt at scolding was failing miserably. as that too was swallowed by a prompt kiss to your lips.
"how presumptuous. i could listen and admire my wife's beauty at the same time." his hands were now on the sides of your face, his thumb rubbing your cheeks subtly. the smile he's wearing as he said that was blinding, contagious in every way.
"you're lucky you're cute." you raised an eyebrow at his apparent flirtation and sweet excuse that still made your inside fluttered despite of years of marriage.
"i am lucky," nanami concurred easily, his tone made it obvious that he was talking about a different thing. to be yours, the implicit meaning was loud inbetween the silent spaces. once more you were swarmed with a barrage of kisses, this time to the corner of your brows, your jaw, forehead.
you tried to hid yourself between the crook of his neck, feeling how it shook along with nanami's laughter. "seriously, what's gotten into you?" you mumbled into his skin, giggling slightly. your chest lightened, bursting with fondness.
you felt another gentle nudge atop of your head. "what? am i not allowed to kiss my lovely wife?"
"you can. but in moderation."
"nonsense. there is no moderation when it comes to you."
"love, no... don't go," nanami rasped, voice low still laced with sleep. his breath tickled the back of your neck as he spoke. the hold of his hand around your waist was somehow tighter, even after when you thought you couldn't possibly get any closer than this; your back on his chest without any space in between.
"let me gooo, i want to make my coffee," you whined softly, the tone made it apparent that you couldn't hold a smile at the sight of your usual collected man being so clingy. provoking hin further, you once more tried to release the grasp of his hand on your stomach. the man responded with a disapproving grunt, the vibration from his lips against your skin made you shiver.
"stay, please. i'll make it for you later," he pleaded, trailing lazy kisses along your shoulder blade in hope to get you stay in bed, going as far as bringing his leg over both of yours, practically keeping you in his embrace. you chuckled.
"but i want it now," you replied, yet despite those words you couldn't help but put your hand on his cheek, seeing how the blond nuzzled closer to it, chasing the contact like a cat basking under the attention.
"not yet," he murmured, doubling down by gently turning you over, bringing you closer as you rested your head on his chest. you caved under his relentless touch, both his arms folded snugly behind your back. nanami wore a satisfied smile, like he just achieved something great. "i need another hour of this. of you."
"didn't know i'll be held hostage in some mornings when i went into this marriage," you teased, the comfort of his warm hug made you abandon the scheme you never planned to follow through. your fingers made their way to draw random patterns on the navy shirt he was wearing.
he caught your digits, planting a soft kiss at the back of your hand, "and you promised to accept me as i am in your vow, so i'm afraid you'll have to put up with this for the rest of your life."
Nanami had never considered himself a jealous man.
possessive, perhaps, in small ways. protective? certainly.
but jealousy? it was messy. the sort of thing that clouded judgement and made people act irrationally.
Nanami preferred facts.
and the fact was that you were free to spend time with anyone. the fact that your smile didn't belong to him. and the fact that he trusted you completely.
but why—why had he spent the last twenty minutes staring at his phone?
the photo on the screen was harmless for god's sake!
a group picture from a company dinner. you sat near the center, smiling oh so sweetly to the camera.
but the problem is there was a man sitting beside you.
nothing appropriate or suspicious. just a coworker. a coworker whose arm was slung casually over the back of your chair.
a coworker who seemed to appear in every photos your friend posted. a coworker whose name you had mentioned bunch of times this week without realizing it.
Nanami locked his phone and set it face down on the table.
he hated this feeling. Not because he distrusted you.
there was no reason for the knot tightening in his chest.
there is no logical explanation for why he suddenly found himself wondering whether you smiled that brightly around everyone. or whether you looked at everyone the way you looked at him.
the apartment door opened suddenly, snapping him out of his trance.
"Kento?" your voice drifted through the hallway.
you stepped into the living room, smiling when you saw him.
"There you are."
Nanami returned the smile automatically.
but as you sat beside him and started talking about your day, he found himself listening for one name. and when it finally appeared in the conversation? his jaw tightened.
your words faltered. "Kento?" you looked at him carefully.
for a moment, neither of you spoke.
then, quietly, you asked. "Is there something wrong?"
he met your gaze briefly before looking away.
the silenced stretched. not uncomfortable, just heavy. Nanami wasn't entirely sure how to answer.
you knew your husband too well to notice when something was off.
"Kento."
"Hm."
"You're doing that thing."
his brows furrowed slightly. "What thing?"
"The thing where you pretend nothing's bothering you."
you moved closer on the couch, turning toward him fully.
"Did something happen at work?"
"No."
"Did someone annoy you?"
"Not particularly."
"Are you tired?"
"Always."
your expression only softened.
your fingers reached for his hand without thinking. you interwined your fingers with his.
"C'mon, talk to me?"
you waited patiently, giving him space to speak.
Nanami hated that he was making this difficult.
eventually, he said, "Who is he?"
you blinked. "...who?"
"The coworker."
your eyes widened slightly. "Oh."
for several seconds, you said nothing.
then, "Are you jealous?"
Nanami closed his eyes briefly. "Perhaps," he sighed.
your expression softened even further.
you shifted closer until your shoulder rested against his.
"I found him annoying," you started. "He talks too much, he steals food, he's arrogant too."
the corner of Nanami's mouth twitched. you caught it immediately.
"There he is."
"I was here the entire time."
"No, you were somewhere in your own head."
you brushed your thumb over his knuckles.
"I don't smile because of him," you sighed. "I smile because i was having fun."
his gaze softened. "I know," he admitted.
"Then why are you suffering by yourself?"
a faint huff escaped him, not quite a laugh.
"Because," he pulled your joined hands closer. "I was hoping it would stop if i ignored it."
"Did it work?"
"No."
you laughed. "That was unfortunate."
he laughed along with you. "It was."
the knot in his chest began to loosen.
not because the jealousy had vanished. but because you were looking at him exactly the way you always had.
(help me find the Nanami artist in the banner, for crediting and thanks/permission!)
When the reader is de-aged by an unusual Curse, Nanami Kento is forced to raise her, and grieve the absence of his fiancée at the same time.
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The girls (twins, affectionately nicknamed the 'Nanaminis' by Satoru) played with a painted wooden truck and other cars around your feet, hampering the already limited view you had with your bump, big and still growing. Trying to cook dinner, you were flustered with sweaty strands of hair in your eyes, overstimulated by the noise from the cars, the casual bickering of the girls, your aching back, the steam from dinner, and--
"Girls, I'm home!"
You were nearly taken out by two frantic little girls tangling through your legs to run to the front door-- "Daddy! I've got two cars but she's got three and that's not fair" -- and you smiled to hear Kento, low and reassuring, tackling toy diplomacy with your daughters.
Kento walked into the kitchen and living room, loosening his tie, still having his ears talked off by his daughters. He stepped over cars, before scooting them to the side so you wouldn't slip, and hugged you warmly from behind, peppering loving kisses along your sweaty cheeks and neck.
"Daddy, rough play!" One of your daughters cried, and the other shouted her approval, both descending on Kento with screams and tiny punches. Kento dropped to one knee, dramatically groaning, feigning a fatal wound and pretending, with his head stooped, to have been beaten.
Your daughters paused their assault, and approached Kento slowly, "...daddy?" Kento stood and roared, taking one daughter under each arm and they squeaked with terror and delight, being tossed onto the sofa. Kento rolled over the back of the sofa to them, nobly defending himself in battle.
Pausing for breath while you watched affectionately, Kento hung one daughter behind his shoulders by the ankles, jumping lightly up and down while she squealed, and the other daughter held onto his ankle, yelling.
"They're just like you at this age, you know," Kento pondered, pretending to choke slam a child onto the sofa as she laughed, completely uninjured and thrilled. You wrinkled your nose into your tea.
"You make it sound so creepy when you say it like that...cradle snatcher."
Kento scoffed at you, gravely offended, continuing to defend himself against his daughters, "Behave. You know it wasn't like that."
You smirked, memories flooding back to you.
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Seven years previously...
"So what you're saying is...she went on a practice mission with Inumaki and Gojo, and now-- she's--" Nanami Kento gaped, reeling.
"...a child, yes." Shoko took a long drag of her cigarette. Behind her, in the treatment room, came the happy squeals of children playing. Kento delicately reached towards Shoko, clearing his throat. Quietly seething, and without breaking eye contact with her, he squeezed the embers at the tip of her cigarette with his thumb and forefinger, snuffing it.
"There are children around, Shoko," he hissed, darkly sarcastic. Shoko swallowed, but smiled fondly at Kento.
"It seems the Curse preferred to hunt children," Shoko purred, "obviously easier to catch, I suppose. Gojo dispatched it, but not before it had already de-aged those two in there." Shoko flipped through a pair of charts, "They're both in good health. I imagine this will wear off within a couple of days. But in the meantime...congratulations. You have to be a daddy until then."
Kento lifted the screen covering the small window in the door to the treatment room. There you were, roughly five years old, bouncing a blown-up rubber medical glove between yourself, Inumaki, and an amused-looking Satoru. Kento was filled with dread; what if you didn't come back? What if his fiancée was...gone?
Satoru beckoned Kento in. Taking a deep breath, Kento stepped into the room. You and Inumaki stopped in your tracks, round-eyed and stunned as this man, enormous and cross-looking, stepped over the threshold. You and Inumaki both shuffled closer to Satoru, who laughingly reassured the children.
"Now kids, I know Nanamin looks scary, but he's not. At all. I promise," Satoru urged, mouthing furiously at Kento; smile, damn you! Kento caught himself, dulling his own Cursed-energy, and kneeling down to the floor. He smiled at you, crinkled eyes warm and honeyed. You gave him a nervous smile back.
"We should introduce ourselves," Kento spoke softly, "I'm Nanami Kento, and I'm your-- I'm..." Kento swallowed thickly, trying not to cry, "I'm your mum and dad's friend. They've had to go away for a few days, and asked me to look after you." You stared at Kento, uncertain, tearing up.
"So, I was wondering," continued Kento, "could you help me do my shopping today? We need to make a list. You see, I don't know what treats you like, and I'm not sure what to make for dinn--"
"Eggs," you chirped, "I like eggs. Can we have eggs with dinner?" Kento smiled, heart melting, delighted by you but missing you desperately at the same time.
"Eggs. We can do eggs. And maybe we can bake something tasty to eat after?" You were warming to Kento now, your eyes sparkling, becoming more animated. You were dressed in just an adult t-shirt, all that Satoru could find in his locker, and Kento realised that he suddenly needed...everything. He had nothing child friendly in his house.
"Nanamin?" You asked him, tugging on the front of his shirt, "I've got an important question." Kento raised his eyebrows inquisitively.
You continued, "When we do baking, can I lick the bowl?"
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The old women in the supermarket were full of delighted whispers for this tall, handsome man doing the shopping with his cute daughter. Kento overheard them all, trying not to blush, as you chattered to him, stood in the trolley. Nobara had taken her mission seriously, and you were now very much appropriately dressed, albeit in very designer clothes, Nobara having taken full advantage of Kento's generous card limit.
You had, in your hand, a pen and some paper, and had written a shaky-lettered shopping list. You pointed down aisles, directing Kento.
"Eggs!" You commanded, a little dictator, "Flour! Sugar! Chocolate! Sweets!"
"Those last two definitely aren't on the list, young lady, nice try."
You huffed, dramatic and pouting, giving Kento the side-eye. Kento raised his eyebrows at you, gently chastising. Continuing round the shop, Kento had left you in charge of the barcode reader. Twice, he had needed to wrestle it off you and put items back on the shelves-- adult incontinence pads, a large bottle of bleach-- and once, he had had to stop you from trying to scan an old man, hastily apologising to the man and putting you back in the trolley.
He had allowed you to push the trolley, full of regret as he knelt, rebuilding a mountain of cans of beans-- "I'm sorry Nanamin, it was an accident, I'm sorry," you had sniffled, wiping your snotty nose on your sleeve before Kento could get to you with a handkerchief. The shop assistant supervised Kento's efforts with a tapping foot.
You had disappeared for five minutes, and Kento couldn't find you, panicking so badly for a moment that he considered knocking all of the shelves over to make it easier to spot you. Kento gave a description of you to several women, charmed by this flustered father, when you reappeared with a toy; "Nanamin, can I have this?" and Kento knelt, one hand on his chest and the other on your shoulder as his panic fizzled away.
At the tills, you packed the bags haphazardly as Kento hurriedly tried to correct the bags and be polite to the cashier and pay for the shopping and keep you from disappearing again and--
Back in the car with a sigh, Kento sat, head hitting the head rest hard, flicks of sweaty hair looping forwards over his brow. Frazzled, he let out a slow breath, until your little voice piped up in the back.
"Nanamin. You didn't do my seatbelt. The police will get you in trouble."
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"So you tap the egg here-- not there-- here-- GENTLY, gently...ahhh." Kento slapped a dishcloth to his cabinet doors as egg dripped sadly down them. You looked to him for answers, hands covered in crushed shell and raw egg. Lifting you to the sink under one arm, he washed your hands off under the tap. Putting you down, he washed his hands.
"-- then the eggy goes in there--"
"Yes, the eggy goes-- NOT THE SHELL--"
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"Make sure you eat the broccoli too."
"No. Don't like it."
"It's tasty. And it's good for you. Eat up."
"No."
"Please."
"No."
Kento sighed, a deep, weary sigh. Rubbing his fingers against his temples and counting to ten, he looked back to you with a smile.
"I'll give you some chocolate if you eat it."
Kento had never seen broccoli disappear so quickly.
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"IT'S IN MY EYES, IT'S IN MY EYES--"
"Calm down, it's not in your eyes, I'm washing it out--" Kento tried to hold you, naked and wet and thoroughly uncontrollable, still, as he poured water over your head. You stamped, spitting water away dramatically, and Kento considered he may as well have just got in the bath with you, his shirt now drenched.
"Come on," Kento huffed, trying to sound upbeat but feeling absolutely exhausted, "let's get you out and brush your teeth--"
"--I don't want to brush my teeth--"
"Well you've got to brush your teeth--"
You ran, streaking away out of the bathroom as Kento stumbled, reaching for you and missing, then chasing you down with a towel and a toothbrush.
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You padded to Kento, damp and pyjama'd as he stripped his wet clothes off and got dressed into his own pyjamas. Your teeth now brushed, and your hair neat and tidy, you looked mollified, a new book under your arm.
"Can you read?" You asked Kento suspiciously.
"I-- of course I can read."
"Good," you stated, chin out, "we can do my bedtime story then."
You plodded away to the spare room, while Kento placed both hands over his face and screamed into the void for a few moments.
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"Was the bear hungry? Or did he just want to be friends?"
Kento pondered, closing the book thoughtfully, "I think...he just wanted to be friends. He was lonely in his cave."
"Or hungry."
"Or hungry," Kento agreed, "but if he were that hungry, he'd have run faster, don't you think?" He asked, tickling under your chin as you squirmed and kicked, giggling.
You rolled over to face Kento, your little hand on his cheek. He rolled over to face you, taking in your little nose, round cheeks...all you, but so far away from the you that he was in love with, and so unable to share that burden with you, that he felt his nose sting with tears again.
"Nanamin?"
"Hmm?"
"Do you have a girlfriend?"
Ah, "I do. We're going to get married soon."
"Ooooh!" You squeaked, your hands coming up to cup your own cheeks, before your little face dropped. Kento peered at you, one eye open.
"But where is she?"
"She's...away working at the minute. But she'll be home soon. I hope."
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The next morning, the sunlight glinted in past the curtains, the room warm and comfortable. Kento slept the sleep of an exhausted parent, never quite enough to catch up. You were draped uncomfortably over him, head in his armpit and legs stretched out across his tummy.
Kento woke, a warm feeling spreading over him as he reached out a sleepy hand, patting you on the head. This was a really warm feeling, a bit wet--
"Nanamin. I've had an accident."
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The days had ticked by, and you seemed a little bigger every day, growing up at an accelerated rate. Kento settled into this bizarre, unwilling parenthood, wondering where this left you as a couple once this was all over. Fear twisted like thorns in the pit of his stomach, wondering if the romantic love you'd shared would be sullied by this paternal love he had been forced to convert to.
Kento met often with Satoru, now inadvertently raising a tiny Inumaki, talking-shop together as unlikely new fathers. Aside from Satoru having to occasionally put out fires caused by Inumaki's Cursed-speech, the playdates were soft, sweet even; babyccinos-- "marshmallows please, Nanamin!"-- in little cafés, pushing-- "higher, Nanamin, higher!" -- on swings, teaching-- "like this? Or this?"-- you both how to control your Cursed-techniques.
It was only at night, when you were asleep, and Kento was decompressing from the eternal labour of mealtimes, laundry, and emotional regulation, that Kento allowed himself to cry. Your little voice called out in the dark. Kento wiped his eyes, fixing a reassuring smile on his face, as he went to resettle you-- "It's alright, you're safe. I'm here."
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The days turned to weeks. The curse was wearing off, but slowly. By Shoko's estimation, you were about thirteen years old now. You had been raised by the motley crew of Jujutsu High-- being taken to theme parks by Yuuji and Nobara, running through the woods with Maki, helping Shoko organise her medical equipment-- around Kento's work days. He went to work now with new trepidation, having you to consider if he was injured, or killed, and overtime was a thing of the past. Kento's tie only ever came off when he walked through the door to your warm welcome.
Shoko kept thrice-weekly checks on your growth and progression, reassuring Kento constantly that you were on your way back to yourself. You both did and didn't retain memories of the previous days and weeks. Some days you treated Kento as if you didn't even know him, a stranger to you, wondering where your parents were. Some days, you seemed to recall events from days (years?) previously where Kento had cooked something special for dinner, or bought you a new outfit. Some days, you seemed haunted by memories that were yours, but not, too big for a child of your age to handle-- losing friends in battle, fighting Curses and Curse-users, failing tests and exams-- and Kento reassured you through your screams and cries in the night.
Raising you had been a confusing, tender whirlwind. Now that you approached your teens, you would see fit to argue with Kento over the barest of insults or inconveniences, pushing boundaries and being hurtful without true intent or realisation of its effects. Kento stayed outwardly calm throughout, an unshakeable presence in the turmoil of your bizarre second childhood.
When Satoru had suggested you come to live in the Jujutsu High dorms and attend classes, as you would have done at this age the first time, Kento found himself bitterly protective.
"No missions, Gojo," he threatened to Satoru one day on a park bench, you and Inumaki swinging and chatting idly in the play area that you both suddenly seemed much too big for.
Uncharacteristically serious, Satoru agreed immediately, "I wouldn't do that to her, Kento, you know that. The way I see it, these two," he gestured to you both, sipping his coffee, "are...recovering from injuries, I guess. But Inumaki's nearly caught up to where he should be...she's got a bit further to go. Shoko can watch her more at Jujutsu High. She can have peers. And maybe you need a bit more separation as she gets closer to your version of her."
And so, you went to Jujutsu High. Kento dropped you off like a concerned father, carrying your suitcases to your room, helping you unpack and put up shelves. His heart clenched with fear, waving you off, and you acted as if it was nothing, making it so much worse for him. He loitered by your room, in case you called him back...but you didn't.
At home again, Kento folded and packed away little clothes, smoothing them over with his big warm hands, musing how you really had only been tiny, what felt like yesterday. He gave you some distance, but gave Shoko none, her phone pinging at all hours, asking for updates, asking her to check on you.
Within a few days, Inumaki fell asleep. When he didn't wake after 24 hours, he was carried to the treatment room. Kento hung around the corridors of Jujutsu High when he heard, hungry for news of Inumaki's condition, deeply concerned about how you would be at the same stage. Shoko was cool and collected, certain that Inumaki would wake up his own self again. Kento worried he wouldn't wake up at all.
Shoko, as always, was right. Inumaki woke as if from a long dream, after two days. Kento visited him, bringing gifts of manga and sweets, while Inumaki recounted his odd half-memories of having been raised by Satoru, alongside his true memories of his first childhood.
Fighting the urge to go and see you, knowing that you were traversing your teenage years again in a way that was too intense for him to offer help with, Kento swallowed down his guilt, his longing to see you, and left. He passed your room reluctantly, his gut wrenching as if caught on your door handle, and remaining there, stretching, pulling, as he walked away from it.
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Another week passed. Shoko was sure your long sleep was close. She recounted tales of you to Kento, seeming excited that her old friend was nearly back to the her that Shoko knew. Kento's voice seemed tight and reluctant as Shoko suggested he come and see you. He declined, feeling awkward about seeing you in almost the form that he knew you.
Passing through the ground of Jujutsu High, ready to drop off a report to Yaga, Kento rounded a corner and bumped into a young woman, reaching out to grab her wrist before she fell to the ground.
"Oh, I'm so sorr-- Nanamin!" Kento stuttered, flustered, resisting pulling an eighteen year old you into his arms. Before he could step back, you threw yourself into his arms with a happy squeak, hanging on around his neck, flush against him and clinging for dear life.
"Oh Nanamin, it's been so long," you breathed, flushed and excited. You gripped his hand, somewhere between a little girl and the you he was still madly in love with, "come on, let's go and get coffee! My treat." You pulled Kento's hand, bright eyes full of delight.
"As if I'd let you pay," Kento grumbled, straightening his suit and tie with one strict hand, his other still clasped by you. Reluctantly, trying not to blush, Kento took you for coffee. He was done-for within thirty minutes, reminded of exactly why he had fallen in love with you in the first place. He restrained himself easily, remaining kind and fatherly, but...distant, in a way you found confusing.
You looked at him through new eyes, wondering how you had ever seen him as a father-figure as a child, lost in thought as to how he still looked so young. His huge, warm hands, the way he was built, so much of a man beneath the confines of his suit, and you felt something stir in you that you never had before, an alluring obsession, a delicious agony of needing to know him differently. Kento's stoic distance was magnetic.
When he drove you back to Jujutsu High, you were full of blushes, unable to take your eyes off his hands smoothly turning the wheel, the sharp cut of his nose and jaw in profile, the stretch of his tan trousers against his thick thighs.
Kento had bricked a stone wall around his affections rapidly. You remained, to him, a little girl under his guardianship. You were the girl he had fallen in love with, but not the woman he was in love with now. His mathematical mind found separating the two of you easy. Grown men did not fall in love with little girls.
As he walked you back to your room, he asked you if there was anything you needed. He pulled you in for a gentle squeeze. He kissed you on the forehead. He bid you to call him for anything. He waited until you were safely home before he left. You were besotted. Completely smitten.
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Kento sat in the staff room, legs crossed, reading his newspaper. The door clicked open, and he heard a satisfied "ah!" as you slipped in, locking the door behind you.
Kento looked over his glasses at you, eyebrows raised in questioning. You smiled at him, demure, curious, before idling over to him. As you sat beside him, Kento felt a strike of dread through him like ice, and he tensed, frowning at you.
You made light conversation with Kento, thigh to thigh on the sofa, your heart fluttering with anticipation. You spoke about the news, his insight so mature and informed, and you hung onto every word, desperate to be closer and you leaned against him, pretending to read the newspaper with him. He remained sincere, measured, neither pushing you away nor pulling you closer.
Kento turned to you, your face centimetres from his now, and you leaned in eagerly, his lips brushing against yours as your fingers grazed his jaw--
"No." Kento grabbed your hand, turning from you and pushing you gently away by the shoulders.
You froze, stunned. Cold embarrassment crept through you as if you'd been kicked in the stomach by Kento's immediate, categorical rejection. Kento folded his newspaper, standing and putting distance between the two of you. His back was to you, one hand clasped over his face and mouth as he sighed. Was he angry? Disappointed? Disgusted? You couldn't tell.
Hot tears of rage and mortification rushed down your cheeks, your vision blurry. Your hands twisted together in your lap. You heard Kento clear his throat lightly, and looked up to see him knelt in front of you, his face smooth and unreadable. He gently pressed a neatly folded handkerchief into your hand, and clasped his hand firmly around yours to close it.
"I'm sorry you feel this way about me, and I'm flattered. But I don't feel this way about you, and you shouldn't trust any man my age who pursues a girl your age."
Anger coursed through you as you stared furiously at him, still crying; "I'm not a girl," you snapped, standing and tossing his handkerchief to his feet. Kento sighed, collecting his handkerchief, rising from the floor beside you.
"I thought we had something-- I thought we were--" you stammered, your throat thick and constricted with humiliation. Kento nodded, understanding.
"You are special to me, and always will be," he assured you, the unspoken words remaining apparent as he shattered the pretences of any romance between you. You seethed with embarrassment.
"Like this fiancée of yours?" You shot, cruelly, with intention to wound, "You told me about her years ago. Where's she, all of a sudden? Did you shove her away, too?"
Kento's stern face gazed down at you, impassive, unreadable, and he spoke to you with measured coolness, "I appreciate you're upset. I don't believe my fiancée has any further place in this discussio--"
"Well I doubt she's coming back!" You spat, furious tears still threatening to overspill, "And I'm not interested in you either. Stay away from me."
You rushed from the room without looking back. The door slammed, a sudden waft of air ruffling the pages of Kento's newspaper. Speechless and devastated by how he had failed you, Kento sank onto the sofa, his elbows on his knees and his fingers sinking into his neat hair.
Kento sat like this until the sun went down, oranges and reds glowing like embers against his suit as the day died away.
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Kento threw himself into work immediately. Working overtime for any distraction, his days were long, and whiskey soothed him to sleep as it had before he had fallen in love with you. Another week passed, a blur of Curses and liquor. He sprayed your perfume onto your pillow. He had kept your pyjamas, unwashed, sleeping with his nose in them and terrified as the smell of you slowly faded away. He still cooked for two, just in case you were to come home, fearing you never would.
It was late, when Kento received the phone call. He was already three large drinks deep.
"Hello?" His voice blurred with exhaustion and drink.
"Nanami. She's...asleep. Has been for nearly two days now. Why haven't you answered your phone?" Shoko chastised. Kento swirled the glass in his hand, the smooth amber roiling in the glass like a little whirlpool. Kento couldn't answer, his throat constricting with unspoken fear- because what if she never wakes up? What if she does wake up, and doesn't know me? What if she does wake up, and doesn't love me?
Kento swallowed thickly, and opened his mouth to talk, words failing him. He heard Shoko sigh.
"Just...come. And bring her some clothes."
A click and a dial tone as Shoko hung up. Kento's hand shook as he laid down his glass, and dialled for a taxi.
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"Inumaki is exactly as he was before this Curse," Shoko pressed, walking with Kento to the treatment room, "and she will be too. I mean it." Kento looked tired, dishevelled, grieving. His tie hung loose, his shirt partly unbuttoned, smelling of whiskey and unwashed from his day's work. Shoko walked him into the treatment room, and pressed him down by the shoulders into the chair beside your bed.
Kento laid eyes on you, drinking you in, hope trickling into him as he studied you, looking exactly like you had when you had left for work that day, just a month ago but feeling like so much longer. With a trembling hand he reached out for yours, examining your hand in his own. He stayed this way until you woke up.
"...Kento?" You woke from your strange, long dream to your fiancé, bedraggled and teary-eyed, and smelling like a dirty bar, looking at you like you were a gift made just for him. Kento's shoulders heaved with sobs, the dam breaking as he gripped your hand in his and pressed it to his eyes.
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You curled on the sofa with Kento, warm and familiar, as he finished recounting the events of the previous month. Stroking his hair the whole time, with his head in your lap, you felt like this was therapeutic for him, and you leaned down to kiss his forehead. His eyes drifted closed, reaching a hand up to keep your lips against his forehead for a little longer.
Pulling himself up, Kento grunted as he felt something hard press into his back. Reaching past the sofa cushions, he pulled out a painted wooden truck. You laughed, embarrassed and charmed.
"Did you actually keep everything?" You asked, touched. Kento hummed to himself, rolling the truck's wheels, his trauma still bearing faintly whimsical overtones.
"I did. I just...couldn't bring myself to get rid of them."
"Well, that's good. It will probably come in handy, one day."
"Really? Why--...oh. Oh," Kento bent over you, blushing and delighted, leaning into your love and promises for the future that he had missed so much.
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Kento sat up, swinging his legs deftly out of his daughters' bed, and left the room, pulling the door closed to a pair of soft snores. He made his way to the living room, passing a dresser covered in photo frames. His eyes paused on an image of one sunny day seven years ago, a smile crinkling his eyes as he passed by on his way to you.
He hadn't yet explained to his daughters, who this other girl was who looked just like them, feeding the ducks with their daddy, one fine summer's day.
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