if i look back, i am lost
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@shokutsusa
to survive, i had to stay unfamiliar to myself, neutralized, at arm’s length. sometimes, i think, all these years later, i’m still hunting the part of myself i exiled. nanami kento of jujutsu kaisen, developed beyond the constraints of canon. heavily headcanon based, au and crossover friendly! ↛ associated with nvictive's gojō satoru + kusattainu's fudō suiren.
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[ ruffle ] sender ruffles receiver's hair. this one too cuz shoko can also be a little nightmare
If Nanami had to place, in order, the most unhinged of the second year trio, one might be surprised to learn he would put Shōko at the top of the list. She was elusive, and he was convinced she had already perfected the art better than her knack for reverse cursed technique. Gojō might have been the evident choice, but his antics were a drop in the metaphorical bucket, all things considered. He could ignore him easily enough, even developed an acute sense of when he drew near with all his absurdities; it wasn't so simple with Shōko. She was careful. She was devilish. She was the worst.
Nothing could surpass the speed of Shōko on a mission, and heaven forbid anyone got in her path. Her movements were quick, seamless, and before he could effectively react in any useful way, her hands were already bunched as two protruding lumps in his hair. It was better to leave her be when she received her prize, lest she thought up a more painful option. And she wasn't above the possibility. He was still recovering from the last time she ruffled his hair to a matted mess of twists and knots.
" Seriously? " Obviously. If the bags under his eyes could sink any deeper, they would.
[cook] / hehehe
When Nanami roused from an induced sleep (at his request), Satoru was at his bedside. It was the first time he felt conscious, cognizant of his body and the smarting numbness that pervaded most of his senses ... except for his sight, in his remaining eye, and it simply stared at his one tether to reality.
He was ready to die. Made peace with it as much as one could in the split second between living and dying. He was ready to build his home overlooking the South China Sea, a foundation in the soil abreast some nameless beach in Kuantan, but he wouldn't be alone. There was someone else there, plastering the walls brick by brick, till he turned and looked at him. Blue, brighter than the sea. Subdued, briefly and arbitrarily, with lashes as white as snow. A palm, pressed against his lower sternum. The realization dawning in Itadori's eyes, frenzied and hopeless. And then— nothing.
Then, he was looking back at a tiled ceiling. Itadori was there, too, he thought.
He was alive. By some higher power or some twisted form of fortune, he was alive.
Satoru's insistence permitted him a shortened stay from Shōko's watchful eye. Whether she knew the extent, the reasoning, she mentioned none of it. Only forced a small duffel bag of essentials and second options— should the first line of defense fail to cut it— into Satoru's hands. Creams, lotions, antibiotics, antiseptics. Make sure he stays hydrated and not talk too much. His vocal cords are still healing. And make sure to apply the cream everywhere twice daily. (Shōko had spread the cream on him once in his nineteen days of recovery; Nanami took the responsibility on himself after that point. The prospect of further stagnation was too much to bear in such a fragile state of being.)
It had been two days since then. Two days, and Satoru refused to part from his side. Despite his protests, Nanami followed him into the kitchen. He'd already started on something, draining the grease from the pan and pouring a modest helping of seasoning. He could recognize the meal by scent alone. He couldn't recognize the man beside the stove, preparing the finishing touches as if it were as natural as breathing. His heart thumped a steady beat, faster with a warmth, developing from his abdomen and moving up, up, upward— into his throat, on his tongue, parched of words.
" Sa— toru ... " Kento managed, approaching from behind. His arm, free of his burns, snaked a gentle line across his waist. He leaned his head into his back, and his fingers twitched, squeezed lightly at his shirt. He could no longer deny what was always right in front of him.
hands full, suiren knocks as gently as they can on the apartment door with the tip of their shoe, nose wrinkling slightly from the sound- even if it wasn't that loud, there's something about the sound of knocking this early in the morning that echoed a bit louder in their thoughts. once the door was opened, though, dog grows sheepish, holding out a cup of coffee in their right hand. " g'morning- " is all they can bring themself to say- it wasn't something either of them had discussed before, and honestly? suiren couldn't exactly explain why they had come all the way out here at this hour. [ well, that wasn't entirely true. they knew why they were here- they just didn't want to say it. ] " . . . thought you might want some coffee before you head to the office. "
" Good morning, and thank you. This will save me a trip to the local café— " Their fingers brushed at the exchange, and the warmth of an ordinary coffee cup around his palm was not nearly enough of a boon compared to the spark that came with their ... numerous outings. He preferred it that way. Suiren preferred it that way. It was as much a give as it was a take, mutually beneficial: when the melatonin wasn't enough, when the perspiring rivulets of a miscellany of unnamed emotion left a patch across the back of his sleep shirt; when Suiren couldn't sleep themself, listless, and their thumb hovered over the send button, a text hastily typed. When his phone vibrated at his side and he pulled himself out of bed, reaching for his keys. It began as one night. Was supposed to be one night, per Suiren's request, until it wasn't. Until no remaining excuses were in the bounds of realism and just the want to feel needed was sufficient.
" — And give me some time to myself. " His job was a twenty minute walk, barring his quick stop at the café. Less time if he decided to drive instead. Nanami was not ignorant to subtlety and their many faces, how it morphed and formed into the face that was staring back at him. Perhaps ... expectant. Suiren was not an open book by any means, but they were obvious. He didn't need vocal confirmation as to the actual intent that lurked underneath the surface. And because of their endless generosity, Nanami had one hour before he had to make for his office. He was always punctual, ten minutes early. No more and no less. " Do you have something you want to say, @kusattainu? "
you want some nana/mi lore? you get some lore.
both of his parents are still alive. had kento when both were in their mid thirties. only child. kento is the only sorcerer in the entire family.
his father's name is nanami kazuya; his mother's, with her maiden name, cathrine jakobsen— typically goes by caja.
the two met when kazuya was studying abroad in denmark at one of their top culinary schools, where caja was also attending. caja is a native of denmark. the two were partnered up in a project and their bond blossomed from there. both graduated from school at the same time and kazuya would go on to become a chef while caja would do the same for a time, eventually leaving the job behind and pursuing other interests.
the two married in denmark and lived there for several years until kazuya was offered a lucrative chef's job in his home of japan.
kento is a lot like kazuya lmao. almost a spitting image, if not for kento's blond hair. kazuya instilled in kento morals and beliefs he holds even to this day, and there's an equal respect on both sides. the same goes for caja. they were both very involved in his life, perhaps to a smothering degree.
both kazuya and caja taught kento how to cook. he was also the least pickiest child to ever exist. he would eat anything they made. he has always preferred variety.
by the time kento is in his late twenties, kazuya has retired alongside caja and are living comfortable lives. kento tries to visit them once a month: the second sunday of every month. if he can't, he makes sure to call them.
unfortunately, their relationship isn't considered very close. kento keeps a lot to himself and doesn't offer much in terms of his personal life.
his parents are aware of his sorcery and while they don't understand it, even in the present, they still support him regardless. if anything, they're happy he quit his miserable job as a salaryman. it never suited him.
⋆ ⁺ ₊ ⋆ ☀︎ showing affection.
add [ reverse ] to change sender and receiver's roles.
[ arm ] sender links arms with receiver.
[ back ] sender pats receiver on the back.
[ blanket ] sender wraps a blanket around receiver.
[ cheek ] sender kisses receiver's cheek.
[ chore ] sender does a chore they know receiver hates doing.
[ cook ] sender cooks for receiver.
[ feed ] sender feeds receiver a bite of their food.
[ flowers ] sender gives receiver some flowers.
[ forehead ] sender kisses receiver's forehead.
[ gift ] sender gives receiver a gift. specify what.
[ hair ] sender brushes receiver's hair.
[ hand ] sender kisses the back of receiver's hand.
[ picnic ] sender takes receiver out for a picnic.
[ ruffle ] sender ruffles receiver's hair.
[ take ] sender takes receiver's hand.
[ takeout ] sender shows up to receiver's place with dinner.
[ tea ] sender makes receiver a hot drink.
it was rare that suiren had a night off- and rarer still that they chose to spend it with another person. sure, sometimes suiren's neighbors would see them returning home from the famima and choose to drag them out to clover with them to visit and talk with mama harumi, which suiren ultimately didn't mind . . . but to actually go to someone else's place was a particularly rare occurrence.
[ cook ] sender cooks for receiver. 😌// @shokutsus
" you don't have to do this. " how many times had they said that by now-? surely the number must have grown to ridiculous heights by this point, a farce in the face of kento's kindness- it wasn't that suiren wasn't grateful, [ by god, they were more grateful than they could properly say- ] but it didn't mean they couldn't point out just how much their kōhai didn't need to go to any sort of trouble for their sake. ( even if it was the first meal someone had actually cooked for them in . . . a very long time. )
leaning their head back, the dog let out a rough sigh, one they could only imagine would earn some sort of look from nanami- gaze flicks in the other's direction as he cooks in the small kitchen, before glancing around the rest of the place. like their own apartment, nanami's place wasn't much, although he didn't have trash ( memories ) lining every available surface in the form of omiyage cases. looking back at nanami, however, made suiren pause- two years their junior, he'd always had the look of someone who was simply tired, something they'd always felt able to relate to. there's feeling tired, and there's having tiredness baked into your bones. [ kento seemed to fall into that second camp, with them. ] but . . . there was no denying the shift that had occurred during their school years. between what happened to haibara, them dropping out, and then- suguru- they had to shake their head from thinking about it too much.
" . . . so, how are . . . things? "
" Seeing as you won't let me pay you for your generosity, again, I insist. " The two of them were cut of the same battered, raggedy cloth: no matter how frequently used, the threads which held it taut fraying at the seams, it prevailed the same as it always did— as much as it could, when it could. Jujutsu society spat them out when it became convenient; was the mundane life of the human world any different? He discovered, rather quickly, it was not. Life as he knew it remained the same, merely under a disparate lens. The work was still shit. The people were still shit. The politics were still shit. All of it was still shit.
Life became just the slightest bit bearable the moment Suiren reentered his life. Nanami did not seek companionship beyond the bare minimum— and if it were feasible, he'd rather none of it at all— but he could not deny the inherent closeness involved when it came to fellow sorcerers, active or otherwise. The past was often eager to rear its ugly head at the most inopportune moments ... even if that entailed showing itself in a convenience store of all places. At least it was them.
A distinguishing sizzle brought him to the present. The steaks were seared to near perfection. He turned them over. If nothing else, Nanami's flair for cooking remained as strong as it was the first time his hands touched a frying pan. It came naturally.
" The same as it has always been. Shit. " He wasn't the type to confide his woes. How everyday he was a step closer to walking out the door, salary be damned. How he wanted to grip the collar of his smarmy superior, lift him from his feet, tell him exactly his true feelings. Ah. If only. He turned the knob, and the fire beneath extinguished to nothing. He reached for an adjacent bowl, pouring a sauce mixture over the top of the steaks. " There are few pleasures in life, ... but some things never change. Cooking feels the same as it did when we were in school. "
three square meals a day, a comfortable bed, a roof over his head. once little more than an unachievable dream, now a reality. denji isn't so desperate he's nine years old again and waist deep in a dumpster in search of something edible, but an old dog can't be taught new tricks. instinct quicker than the mind, almost innate, something not unlike the nature of a rat to scavenge from its first breath. “ hey ! ”
there is a squeak with the pivot of his step, hand grasping desperately for his prize. acceleration is excessive for the short distance he's covered, an unstoppable force against an easily movable object, and boy comes crashing to the ground with a groan. the commotion is a comedy act, complete with an unenthused audience in kento nanami ... dignity is the last thing on denji's mind, even covered in used tissues and discarded remnants of conbini snacks.
“ tch ... senpai, you were seriously gonna throw this out ? you didn't even finish HALF of it ! ” an accusatory finger protrudes, jabbed in his warden's direction with disdain clear behind it. judge, jury, executioner, he's easily stuffing a portion of the unwanted pastry in his mouth. down the hatch it goes ! how else will he sniff out the motive of such a heinous crime ? the verdict is imposed through a mouthful of half - chewed bread. “ oh shit, this is good. ” / @shokutsus
" Denji. " He should have saved his breath, a familiar pinch and tug seared into his head, because by the time he said it, the majority of Denji's supposed prize was already shoved into his mouth. Unceremoniously, impolitely, a boy starved. Starved of more than just the necessity of sustenance.
No amount of instruction could prevent the inevitable, nor was this the first time. Denji was a wild card, as much as one could get. Wild, untamed. That fact alone bid certain 'opportunities' that were beyond Nanami's choice. Either he became a ward, or Denji would face execution. He was only a child, but he knew better than to argue with the officials. If he expressed even an inkling as to his true opinion, there'd be no need for an execution date. Nanami was his first and only chance at a normal life (to as much of a degree as one could get when sorcery was the unfortunate focal point of their lives); he had to make do with the hand dealt.
" That was out of date. " By almost three months, no less. And by some miracle, the boy narrowly avoided most of the mold that had formed, indiscriminate streaks across the surface. The sigh that followed came deep, rooted in his chest. " Spit it out, or you're going to get sick. There's a fresh one on the counter. "
人物分析 — sexual preferences. BOLD ... always applies. ITALICS ... sometimes applies. STRIKEOUT ... never applies/not comfortable with.
— inclinations/habits. is submissive | is dominant | switch | prefers to top | prefers to bottom | likes to switch | identifies as heterosexual | identifies as homosexual | identifies as bisexual | identifies as pansexual | identifies as demisexual | identifies as asexual | enjoys sex with men | enjoys sex with women | enjoys sex with any sex / gender | enjoys sex with aliens | enjoys sex with androids | enjoys sex with monsters | enjoys sex with multiple people at once | initiates | waits for partner to initiate | spits | swallows | prefers sex in the morning | prefers sex at night | will have sex anytime | no sex drive | low sex drive | average sex drive | high sex drive | hypersexual | fluctuating sex drive.
— body/appearance. small build | medium build | athletic build | muscular build | curvy build | voluptuous build | wears boxers | wears briefs | wears lingerie | goes ‘ commando ’ | shaves / waxes | manscapes | doesn’t shave / wax | cup size a – c | cup size d – f | 1 – 5" in length | 6 – 9″ in length | 10” or over in length.
— sounds. is silent / makes little to no sounds | is very quiet | is very loud | grows in volume over time | bites hand / partner / pillow to muffle themselves | calls out partner’s name | curses | growls | groans/grunts | fakes / exaggerates | prefers a quiet partner | prefers a loud / appropriately vocal partner | prefers a responsive partner | is turned on by dirty talk | is turned off by dirty talk.
— turn ons/kinks. having their hands pinned | pinning their partner’s hands | having their hair pulled | pulling their partner’s hair | being watched ( by their partner ) | being watched ( by a third party ) | watching their partner | receiving oral | giving oral | calling their partner ‘ daddy ’ | being called ‘ daddy ’ | calling their partner ‘ mommy ‘ | being called ‘ mommy ‘ | calling their partner ‘ master ‘ | being called ‘ master ‘ | calling their partner ‘ mistress ‘ | being called ‘ mistress ‘ | calling their partner ‘ sir ’ | being called ‘ sir ’ | giving praise | receiving praise | biting / marking (rare) | being bitten / marked (rare) | spanking | being spanked | teasing | being teased | having toys used on them | using toys on their partner | giving anal | receiving anal | choking | being choked | dirty talk | being tied up | tying their partner up | being worshiped | worshiping their partner | humiliating | being humiliated | degrading | being degraded | being pegged | pegging their partner | being edged | edging | age gap | anonymous sex | blood play | breeding | chastity devices | clothed / partially clothed | deep - throating | gun play | intercrural sex | knife play | lingerie | nipple play | orgasm denial | overstimulation | pregnancy | prostate milking | public sex | rimming | roleplay | sadism / masochism | size difference | squirting.
— places. airplane | alleyway | bath | beach | bedroom | boat | bus | car | cathedral / church | cemetery | closet | concert | dressing room | elevator | empty or abandoned building | field | forest | gym | home bathroom | hospital | kitchen | library | movie theatre | museum | ocean | parking lot | planetarium | pool | public bathroom | rooftop | school | sex club | shower | tent | terrace | train | workplace.
the women could fly.
dialogue prompts from the women could fly by megan giddings.
say it again. like you believe it.
it's not a fun story, but it's an honest one.
i'll help you stay on the path.
this could be something more.
i'm fine. sorry. i don't mean to scare you.
there is nothing wrong with knowing you’ve been treated poorly for no good reason and wanting to be treated better.
i haven't heard you talk about anyone special in your life for a while.
you wear messiness well.
the only way a woman can survive is to have a good sense of humor.
how do we keep living this way?
what's the weirdest thing you remember putting in your mouth as a kid?
i don't even know your middle name.
tell me two important things about you.
don't stay up too late, okay?
fear is part of my life now. i accept it.
your imagination is too big.
the only safe place for a women is 100 percent alone.
for a while, i was finally not thinking about you every single day.
you need to stop blowing up your life.
have you ever done anything impossible?
if i die young, don't let anyone make a podcast about me.
who have you been in love with?
intimacy is just as important as romantic feelings.
what colors do people associate with you?
i'm always wondering what dogs are really thinking.
you have no idea what my life has been like.
if you have something to say, you could just say it.
there is no power without the potential for harm.
you say the most judgmental shit in that nice-girl way.
the only way we'll be able to live together is if we stop being so polite.
nowhere with people can ever be perfect.
this is a top five birthday.
you could be happy. you just don't want it.
i don't like pretending life is manageable.
if you can get through this, you can have your life back.
anything can make sense to a person as long as it helps them feel powerful.
can i touch you? is that alright?
i think i reacted the wrong way when you told me what happened to you.
we look like one of those terrible instagram couples.
are you pissed or sad or both?
i'm going to see you again, right?
i'm working on being generous to other people.
i know it hurts your feelings, but i want everything to be open between us.
if things are going to work for us, i want to be completely honest with you.
is there anything you think i should know?
i couldn't leave you without saying goodbye.
IT TAKES A LOT BEFORE ONE CAN SAY : we’re still here .
hesitation claims itself victor of his voice ⅋ suguru finds his gaze drawn inevitably back towards nanami’s broken figure, collapsed against the chair beneath him. the sight agitates his bloodstream, grief wedged between the notches of his spine, he sweeps from apathy to shock in a fraction of second, paralyzed features cloaked in pyrrhic resolution as he contemplates the man before him, cloaked in sufferance and grief : lifeless , horrified , and guilty .
❛ just leave it to your senpai, kentō. ❜ his tongue is loose in its response, eerily calm, drawling along the grooves of his canines with languid reassurance. he is rooted to his self-slaughter. tenacious, begrieved flesh woven into purpose. but one cannot account for their fall from grace.
he is betrothed to doom. ah, but compassion compensates. he gets it. he’ll offer what he can. ❛ death makes a fool of us all. i miss that ignorance painfully. is this what happens when you figure out you’ve been on the wrong path all this time ? no difference made, and all we’ve succeed in doing is wasting our lives away. ❜ a stifled sound finds itself terminated in a staccato, unsounded expulsion of laughter. if it were laughter. amusement bears no trace, for despair will not shift.
❛ this world … is rotten to its core. we’ll just have to remake it ourselves. ❜
The world felt just a little more smaller, a little more compact. Contained in a space that was practically suffocating in its chill, frigid and numbing all at once, smothering him with a further upset of reality. Its bite, even worse. But, Getō— a bite of his own, a familiar cadence that was soft in his quiet phonating, yet held infinite burdens in the midst of words that held significance and meanings beyond the initial understanding. Nanami's competence when it came to a deeper cognizance was second to none compared to his peers, older and younger; he knew how to read between the lines, and the lines among the between, perhaps more than he should. It sounded nothing like Getō. Nothing like the man Haibara looked up to with a starry gaze; nothing like the man Nanami himself looked up to, albeit through more subtle methods.
His arm was heavy. It slid from his eyes and arose a homecoming of fluorescent lighting, shining behind his eyelids. His temple felt even heavier. If he wasn't feeling the effects of a longlasting migraine then, he was certainly experiencing it now. He cracked open a lid, fatigue and unease forcing his stare to listlessly shift, shift and shift and shift until, finally, he met Getō's gaze. He was blurry and crystal clear all at once. A shadow and a light all at once.
" Getō— " Some feeling burrowed itself within his skin. Something unexplainable. " What ... what are you saying? " What are you talking about? Do you realize what you're saying right now? What exactly are you implying? So many questions ... and not enough of a voice to speak them into being.
the word indeed rolled off his tongue with no prior warning [ … ] it only registered in satoru’s conscious after he’d blurted it out, capricious & flippant as he’s always liked to appear. he could ask anyone he knew : this was an invitation to a date in every sense of the word, a date between two people not permitted to explore anything beyond each other’s bodies on slow days for one of them & busy, busy days for the other. satoru wouldn’t say he’s the kind of person to shift the blame from himself to something or someone else, but temptation tugs at him something fierce at the moment ── it’d be easier to think it’s all because of a particularly hard-hitting afterglow, isn’t it, rather than subjecting himself to an explanation in the worst-case scenario.
“ you’ll pick having to get up & go out over staying in bed, perfectly~ comfortable like this? what’s wrong with doing nothing on your day off? ” lazing around, to be precise ; unsaid in the one way that might make the other sorcerer burst a blood vessel, satoru’s matter-of-fact suggestion nonetheless couldn’t have a meaning more obvious than that. a half-blanketed arm crosses over nanami’s chest in a loose embrace, wasting an effort to close around him entirely. let him make himself at home in the nauseatingly familiar pair of arms & he’ll be shifting against his coworker at least a dozen times unless he comes up with an idea soon.
his predicament couldn’t get more delicate than this, either. he might as well regard it as an outing of sorts, a twenty minutes’ drive through the tokyo traffic just to drag nanami to various shops & prey on large chunks of his patience. “ hey, nanamin. there’s gotta be some place you go to regularly, yeah? let me see it. ” intrigued, decidedly expectant, satoru sits up against the headboard. time has taught him : when tranquil, nanami isn’t at all the man he comes across as.
" There's plenty wrong with it. Doing nothing is lazy and unproductive. " Indolence invited unbidden introspection, indescribable emotions where they did not belong. He was a servant to the business world for four years too many, but it held its advantages when it was convenient— which was to say, this was a verbal transaction between two coworkers. An arrangement, more simply. He was not ignorant to these specific kinds of ... engagements: Satoru was not the first he bedded for the impetus of stress relief and the pleasant numbness of forgetting, neither the second, nor the third. But he was the one that lasted.
Satoru's touch, draped over his chest as lazily as his suggestion, brought to life a familiar wakefulness. It drew the sleep from his eyes, forced him to stare up instead, at a plain, reddish brown, hardwood ceiling. How many nights and mornings he spent, he wondered, staring at the scattered splotches of dark and picturing, thinking, yet another internal crisis. This plight might very well be the worst of them all, and the focal of it settled unknowingly against him, capturing every bit of his attention. Life is shit.
The mattress dipped, and his stare darted to a watchful ocean of blues. There was something mesmerizing about his eyes, as though he were peering into a peek of infinity itself. He'd never admit it, of course, because Satoru didn't need another boost to his already massive ego— it was a confidential thought, kept near his heart. Just another beat of secrecy when it came to his intense scrutiny: the little details, like the way Satoru's expression faltered for a second when Kento'd say something off-kilter; the little tells, like how he inched himself closer when momentary skin to skin contact wasn't enough. He ignored it, as best as one could when the source looked to him wholly and expectantly, and reached a hand over to his dresser. His fingers touched the cool metal of his watch, maneuvering to clasp it around his wrist. He swung his legs over the bed, sliding a drawer open. " Get dressed. I know of a bakery that may interest you. "
he wasn't going to cry , not here not now. but he wasn't sure anyone would understand what exactly he was going through. no one understood what it was like to have caused such a destruction with their own hands like he did. there was a point made . . . it was out of his control but was it ? he'd been entrusted as the vessel because he could handle sukuna and surpress him but he'd been unable to. and that was his fault. so many lives and so many families torn apart. and to make matters worse the voice in his head was constant. I told you people would die because you live , you can't escape me brat. his next breath was shaky and he couldn't bring himself to look at the other. yet another thing that was his fault.
❛❛ nanamin . . . it's my burden. my fault. no one else should have to carry this weight but me. ❜❜ he drops his head into his hands and stays quiet a long moment. the sick and cruel laughter could be heard in the back of his mind and he knew sukuna was thrilled to see him in misery. he just wanted to help people and he already failed. ❛❛ I used to wonder why the heck I needed to be execute . . . now I know why. ❜❜
" If you're going— to say that, don't. Don't ... say it around ... me. " His trachea was ablaze, both simmering and lively in his assertiveness, however terribly fragmented it spouted from him. It felt like minutes before he could swallow the minuscule buildup of saliva down, an all too parched descent into a body deprived. Nanami's fingers, they twitched— and they curled inward, bringing the pads of his fingertips into his palm. Prodding for something, anything, any sort of sensation that would remind him. Remind him of what? His thinking was as much in shambles as the rest of him, if not somehow worse.
All he could see was Haibara. First, it was just him. Looking over him as if a concerned caretaker, the back of his palm still on his forehead. Then, he was parallel to Itadori. Nanami blinked, briefly, and just as soon as it happened, he was gone. The impression of his hand left behind a warmth across his skin. He finally swallowed, and it was a temporary relief until the sequence began anew.
" You ... saved my life. Time and time ... again, " His hand unfurled, an unspoken offering. " You ... are not alone. " I am here with you. I won't make the same mistake again.
@shokutsus | sc
― " I only just got here, actually. " a moment of silence fills the empty space between the two, casually sipping his tea from a small, clay cup. He winced. " Tastes odd. Do you have any better tea? "
The road to recovery followed a long, sinuous path— with the all the highs and lows that inevitably came with it. This was one of the moments that sat perfectly in the middle. " And still you found it appropriate to wait in my office. " Itadori acquainted Nanami with the idea of Chōsō, the little things, the more important information, when all he felt was an acute numbness, phantom sensations, an extensive scarring born from Abaddon itself. So far, his first impression was severely lacking. " ... That isn't tea. " Silence. " — On an unrelated note. Is there a particular reason why you're here? "
Quick sketch for @shokutsus ❤️
i will never not find it fascinating that, despite leaving jujutsu for several years, nana/mi is still considered the Quintessential idea of a sorcerer
