he knows, beyond here, there is only greenery. farther: the cruel slopes of the mountains, the gentle dip of the valleys. he knows. before his shades, there is density, thermal and heightened: rain, like many things, inspires despair. where there’s despair, there’s negativity. it’s an old story, and he knows it best by the colors and frequencies his eyes perceive.
he likes to pretend he doesn’t notice nanami’s hesitation, or his staring. except, the scarcity of cursed energy from his part makes him turn his way, inevitably.
for a moment, the droplets can’t reach him. for a moment, he thinks nanami means his chastisement. he’s surprised, then, to see nanami has the heart to render the umbrella useless. the mouth opens wider than the eyes, which eventually all turn to crescents: a laugh, but only one. it disturbs the air like he wants it to, and he blinks the waterdrops off his eyes, wipes his mouth. “ gone soft on me ? ” he asks, as though nanami hadn’t known him for three years already⸺ no. that wasn’t right, either.
he had noticed nanami kento’s compassion long before.
he wondered, too, where he made space for it in a place like this. the questions felt much too vital, revealing less about nanami and more about gojo. what he opts for seems, ultimately, unrelated: “ i’m graduating this year. ” there are things nanami knows that gojo couldn’t hope to understand, much less teach. above his capability for detachment, gojo doubted nanami’s commitment. the commitment to stay, or the drive to leave. “ i think i’ll do some travelling before i return and work here. ” when the rain relents, he plucks the round shades from his nose bridge, pockets them.
“ ne, nanami, ” glancing at him with a sight unobstructed, he asks, “ will i see you around ? ”
it’s strange. how easily & quickly the weather changes its whims, the once-dark clouds vanishing into an idyllic, motionless sky—
the fresh air almost stings. the gentle wind lingers: a sweet coolness. still, if you looked, you could find traces of its past anguish: the puddles coalescing in the dips of the streets, the glistening grass & the scattered tree leaves, the soaked clothes of those fateful enough to be caught outside without an umbrella —
nanami meets gojo’s gaze carefully. his voice isn’t anything in particular, plainspoken & without grief, like a fact being stated:
he exhales slowly, as if relieved that he has said it. the sunlight feels nice on his face, & for a moment, the distance between them seems as vast as the universe, their lives as disparate as two ends of a line — cascading toward opposite infinities:
gojo plans to come back, & that doesn’t surprise him at all. but nanami can’t conceive of a world where he would ever come back once he’s left —
❛ after i graduate next year, i plan to leave jujutsu behind. i’ll probably find a decent paying job & work a few years to save up. then, i’ll just move somewhere cheaper to live than here & retire. ❜
he surprises himself with how much he says, as if this fleeting moment of peace is the only moment in his life when he can confront everything inside him —
for a long time, after he realized he wanted nothing to do with the world of jujutsu anymore, nanami wondered if it was cowardice — if haibara would think he was making the wrong choice.
it was agonizing; it still is.
❛ it sounds selfish, & i know it is, but — ... ❜
i’m not like you, gojo, & i can’t stay in a world that demands i accept that people will die for me. he avoids saying that; it wouldn’t make any difference.
the mild wind blows past them, chilling. nanami shivers.
❛ ... let’s go inside. before we actually get sick. ❜
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