Nanami Kento was used to walking into a room and finding his classmate sleeping soundly, whether it was on her desk in the classroom, curled up on the couch in the dormitory's common area, or on the grass in the middle of morning exercises. It was exhaustion, he had quickly figured it out upon learning the depths of her technique, and quietly putting a jacket over the sleeping girl had turned into a habit between him and Haibara until one day the duty fell on his shoulders alone.
Seven years had passed since Kento had last walked in on Kanzaki dozed off somewhere on the campus. Yet the habit had somehow survived the test of time as he found himself slipping off his jacket.
He paused with the beige jacket in his hands. Even when they weren't on speaking terms for weeks after their friend's death, he had never hesitated to act before; he would cover her with his jacket and find it neatly folded on his desk later in the day, and both would pretend like nothing happened. But they were no longer the people they used to be in high school. Once they were friends, close friends even. A lot had happened since those days. Now they were acquaintances with memories neither wanted to remember.
A little ashamed, Kento soaked in the nostalgic feeling of that one spring morning of the second year: He was lying on his back beside her under the tree, staring at her long lashes for half an hour until the breeze caused a blade of grass to tickle her face and woke her up from her nap. Her lips were curled down in a similar pout as they were now. What a naive young boy he was for thinking they were going to stay under that tree forever, and what a sad adult he was for still grieving a friendship he lost a decade ago.
He placed his jacket over her skirt.
"Hey, Nanami, did you see a wallet around here?"
"I didn't," Kento answered the man that walked into the room with a quiet voice, stepping away from Kanzaki. The woman muttered something incomprehensible in her sleep, almost like a complaint. His head snapped back at her, ready to apologize for disturbing her rest.
"Don't worry about her. She's been sleeping like a log since morning. Nothing can wake her up." Kusakabe's voice was also lower than a moment before as he assured Kento. His gaze went back and forth between him and his jacket laid on her lap. "She often talks in her sleep. I never figured out what she was saying."
He sounded troubled by his inability to decipher what was going on in her subconscious.
Right, Kento remembered. They dated.
On the day he returned, they had a very short and awkward chat (after Ryosuke-san told her to stop hiding behind him). It was the part of going back that had made him nervous the most; facing the girl he had left crying in the classroom after four years. He had a lot he wanted to tell her, a lot he wanted to ask. Four years' worth of questions, maybe even more. And there she was, standing before him with a shy and distanced smile that he had never seen on her lips before.
Then he had walked through the door, and before Kento could tell her the one thing he wanted to say for all those four long years, Kanzaki had excused herself and walked away, leaving him with the realization that he had taken too long, that whatever he had to say, she no longer cared. She had run into the older man's arms, giggled at his words while brushing her thumb over a cut from a shaving incident.
The more he got to know his colleague, the more their relationship confused him. He had no interest in putting himself in danger, and he found the job to be a 'pain in the ass' — it reminded him of himself in his high school days a little. However, she looked very content with his mindset, and that was what confused Kento the most after all the things Kanzaki had accused him of when he had told her that he was quitting.
Why was the thing that made Kento a coward in her eyes acceptable for him?
He didn't know when exactly their relationship ended or why as Kusakabe was always intent on acting professional in the headquarters; they switched between family names and first names, leaning more towards the latter as time passed. Then one day each other's family names began to awkwardly roll out of their tongues. Yet after a short adjusting period, she was back to teasing the man as if nothing had happened between them, making Kento think they reconciled, but they remained as friends.
She could forgive everyone. Everyone but him.
But he deserved it after abandoning her.
Kusakabe pinched his nose bridge. "Don't tell her I told you about this," he said. "You two were classmates, right? You must know how she is when she gets angry."
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The soft fabric slipped off her legs as she stretched her back, fingers intertwined and palms reached up to the ceiling. She caught it before it touched the floor while the back of her other hand wiped the drool in the corner of her mouth. In her drowsy state, she looked around to see where she was: the lounge room. The sun had already set, and her contacts had dried in her eyes.
The scent of the owner's cologne had permeated the beige jacket. She brought its collar to her nose. Such a pleasant journey it was from the harsh leather to the mellow jasmines. He had a good taste.
Arisu wasn't fully awake enough to realize she was still holding the jacket close to her chest while picking up her belongings. She grabbed her purse and her cursed tool, threw away her cold coffee and unwrapped but untouched sandwich that had gone stale. But the parking lot wasn't where her feet carried her to in the mostly isolated campus.
After a long day of work, most sorcerers couldn't wait to get back to the safety of their homes, and she was usually one of them, but some days Arisu found Ryosuke cleaning his sword in his old classroom. On those days, she realized again and again how little she knew her cousin.
She always thought that Ryosuke hated Tokyo. He looked miserable throughout high school, like he counted the days to leave them all behind, and she was sure that he was going to move to Kyoto to get away from them after he graduated — he visited the jujutsu capital often. He never spent time with them unless it was for training Nanami or a mandatory visit to Shoko, nor did he have any classmates of his own. There was always an arm's distance between him and the rest of the world.
Behind the window, there again was Ryosuke sitting on the teacher's chair. A large white towel was laid on the desk, his katana and several sandpapers were neatly placed on it. His black saya rested against the wall behind him. The golden dragon flying on the painted magnolia wood, covering the entire side of the saya, shone under the fluorescent lights. The beautiful piece of handcrafted art was a gift from Shiori for his eighteenth birthday.
His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. She noticed the bandages wrapped around his right hand, reaching up to his elbow. There was a pained frown engraved on his sharp features as he rubbed the rust off the blade.
Arisu glanced at the three-piece staff sticking out of her purse. No matter how many years passed, she couldn't shake off the guilt that came with having possession of what should have belonged to him by nature. Perhaps that was why she could never get used to the weight of the cursed tool. So many times she had stopped herself from apologizing as if she had a say in his suffering.
Any hints of his pain were erased from his face when Arisu opened the door, but the focused frown remained. He didn't take his eyes off the katana while she pulled a chair to the other side of the desk.
"Do you need help with that?" she asked as she hung Nanami's jacket on the back of the chair. She put the purse on the floor, out of his sight. "Tagawa-sensei taught me how to take care of weapons too."
"When was the last time you touched a blade?"
"Do kitchen knives count?"
Ryosuke didn't look humored. She couldn't imagine the pain he was holding back from reflecting outside. Maybe that was why he wasn't looking up from his sword, or maybe he didn't care enough to be bothered. With Ryosuke, she could never tell.
The famous grade 1 sorcerer often refrained from using his technique, imbuing his katana with cursed energy instead, and when the situation made it a must for him to unleash his technique, he used the blade as a barrier between his body and the corrosive smoke to redirect its effects. It came with the cost of losing a huge fraction of its power. Arisu was one of the few people to witness the true power of the Dark Matter. The cost of it was even greater.
For what he had to sacrifice, he made up with his swordsmanship. His katana moved so naturally in his hands like an extension of his arm that he was born with. His moves had a fluidity in them that she had never even seen in her old swordmaster with thrice his experience. Only a genius could raise a swordsman like Ryosuke. Shiori had created something magnificent from something so cursed.
Her, Shoko, and Utahime often joked about whether he or Kusakabe was the better swordsman to get a reaction out of them. Ryosuke acted humble, often throwing a fake praise or two for the New Shadow Style user, but they all knew it was a facade, that he meant none of it. Neither man had the intention of finding out the answer, not on friendly terms at least. It was a debate Arisu wished to never see settled.
"What was it?"
"It doesn't matter," he dismissed her, planting an uneasy feeling in her chest.
You can do this. No reason to be nervous. "So were you able to find anything about our little missing cursed object?"
"I'm investigating." He paused and looked at her. "You never show interest in the aftermath of a job, yet you've been oddly passionate about this one. I thought staying ignorant made you feel better."
Shit. He's onto me.
"Technically, there can't be an aftermath if it's not done yet, right?" Arisu asked. Leaning back, she crossed a leg over the other. Her body was sore from the long nap. "I guess I'm feeling a sense of responsibility for returning empty-handed. Especially after you mentioned that ratting out Okkotsu's execution to Satoru had consequences for you."
"What does it have to do with you?" He was trying to figure out her motivation. She knew she could never come out triumphant if she were to try playing mind games against her cousin. He was far better at reading people than her.
"Because Satoru kind of put me in charge of him." Ryosuke hummed like he agreed with his cousin's decision. It was rare. "Besides, we have a deal. What hinders your objective also hinders mine. I want to be done with it and move on."
"Do you think you'll be able to move on?"
Arisu didn't know the answer. "It doesn't matter. They got away with it for so long."
"Focus on the kid," he said. "I'll take care of the rest of this myself."
"Are you sure?" He hummed affirmatively. She didn't want to push her luck so soon. "Come on, at least let me help you with the sword. I know you're in pain."
He glanced at his bandaged hand, then put the sandpaper in front of her. "Be gentle."
Arisu carefully grabbed the handle and lifted the katana to an angle she could work comfortably. She had never seen his sword from up close before; he had never agreed to train with her and the woman had long given up on asking. There was another matching golden dragon curled on the white tsuba. Between its mouth and tail, there was a tiny samurai in hasso stance — his golden katana pointing upright with the hilt in front of his right shoulder, prepared to face an attack from the vicious beast. As she began to rub the sandpaper on the rusty spot, she could feel the concerned eyes fixed on her hand.
"You should show that to Shoko before it leaves a scar."
"Keep your eyes on the sword, or I'll take it back," Ryosuke scolded her. "She already clocked out. It can wait until the morning. I took painkillers."
"You should start taking better care of yourself, Ryo. We both know it can't be your charming personality that helped you finally find someone." She raised two fingers. "It must be either your money or good looks. Knowing you, I put my money on the second one."
The Gojo bloodline had good genes. With her thick-framed glasses and shy nature, Arisu had never attracted anyone's attention in middle school — it wasn't until she met Haibara that she had discovered her talkative self. Being taller than most of her male classmates also hadn't helped her. Her cousins, however, were in the spotlight since day one, despite not having any interest in interacting with anyone. They were handsome, tall, and athletic; the girls were lined in front of their classrooms at every break. The little popularity she had was only after people saw her getting into the same car with them after school.
"How are you going to explain the scars to your girlfriend? Unless you're already past that point," she continued. "Did she notice the ones on your chest? Did you tell her the truth?"
"How many times do I have to tell you to keep your nose out of my personal life until you finally understand?"
"It's definitely not your personality," she half-joked. "You're not denying that you're seeing someone. Please give me some details. What's her name? Is she a sorcerer or a civilian? How did you two meet? For how long have you two known each other?"
Ryosuke let out an exasperated sigh. "Are you going to let it go if I give you something?"
Arisu's head shot up. She dropped the sandpaper. "Yes!"
"Alright, then. You can only ask one question, and it can't be any of the questions you just asked. Especially about my scars."
"Okay, scars are a touchy subject, but the rest? It's not fair!" she protested. "I didn't know."
He shrugged. "That's the deal. Take it or leave it. You have ten seconds to ask your question."
"But there isn't anything left to ask." He checked his watch. "Fine. Uh... How old is she?"
That's the best you can come up with? she scolded herself.
"Thirty."
"Really?" While she smirked, it was killing her that she couldn't remember any thirty-year-old blonde woman. How old is Tsukumo Yuki? She couldn't imagine such a free-spirited woman with a traditional guy like Ryosuke. Maybe she really was a civilian. Most sorcerers knew better than to get affiliated with someone from one of the big three families. "I didn't know you were into older women, Ryo."
"You agreed to let it go after I answered your question," he said. "You won't mention it to Ieiri or Utahime. Or anyone else."
She smiled sweetly. "That'll cost you another question."
"Arisu," he said sternly.
"Then I can't promise you I'll keep my mouth shut."
"I should've gone home," he sighed again. "This is the last one, and my conditions still stand."
"How long have you been dating?" she asked.
"Didn't you already ask that?"
She shook her head. "I asked how long you two have known each other. This is an entirely different question. Now spill."
She could see the regret in his violet eyes. "A little over a year."
Her eyes widened. "And you hid it from us this entire time? Isn't she bothered that you keep her like a government secret?"
"You can't ask any more questions. Now get back to work."
Half-satisfied that she was able to get something out of him for once, Arisu returned her attention to the katana before her cousin took it back from her. She also needed some time to prepare herself for the next question. The only reason she came to him wasn't to ask about the cursed object or his love life. There was another matter that was bugging her since the first day of the week.
"I have one more question," she broke the silence after a while as she switched to another sandpaper with a different grit size. He prepared to reject her. "It's not about your love life."
"Go on."
She took a deep breath. "You were like a mentor to Nanami back in high school."
"Not really. I only helped him with his blade technique. That was all," Ryosuke said. "Why? Are you nervous about dealing with Okkotsu?"
"I've been trying to avoid something like this for years, and now Satoru is asking me to bite more than I can chew," she admitted. "He asked me to take him on a mission with me tomorrow to get to know him, but I'm not used to having anyone around during work. What if something goes wrong? No, something will definitely go wrong. I can feel it."
"Making yourself anxious won't help. Grandfather trained you personally for this."
Her gaze dropped to her lap, her voice got quieter. "And we both know how it has worked for me so far."
"Arisu, you were a teen. And you still have a higher success rate than anyone else would've had in your position," he said. "With that curse protecting that kid, you won't have to worry about him getting harmed. It took out several good sorcerers. They didn't want to send me after him for nothing."
Ryosuke was always their last resort before the situation escalated to a level that required Satoru's intervention.
"Your lack of skill isn't the problem here, and I can't help you with that," he continued. "Give Nanami a call. Unlike me, he's actually acting as a mentor for that grade 2 sorcerer."
"I was afraid you'd say that." She placed the sword on the towel. "I can't face him yet. Not until I find—"
"As much as I want to take over that position soon, we both know it might take years for both of us to reach our goals. How long are you planning to avoid him?" He pointed at the beige jacket she brought with her. "I don't think he's holding a grudge over what happened. To me, it looks like he wants to make things go back to how they were."
To go back to how they were when? Before Haibara's death? Before the fight on graduation day? Was it even possible to move on from the things they went through?
"Sorcerers don't live long lives enough to be hung up on the past, Arisu. It's the one thing we can't afford."
You're the one telling me that? "You're right."
Her heart was beating in her ear as she dug through her purse for her phone. He hadn't changed his number since high school, and even before he returned, Arisu could never bring herself to delete it, despite how many times her finger lingered on the delete button after he walked out on her. She had kept it for four years hoping one day one of them would find the courage to make the first move to fix everything. As always, it was him.
She pressed on the number. After a few seconds that felt like forever, he answered with an audible surprise. "Kanzaki-san?"
"Hi. I'm sorry for bothering you after work."
"You're not bothering me."
"I'm glad," she awkwardly said as she glanced at Ryosuke, who gave her an encouraging nod. "Would you like to meet for drinks? I want to give you your jacket back. There's also something I need your help with. I know it's a weekday, and you must be very tired. I'd completely understand if you don't want to."
He stayed silent for a moment. Arisu held her breath. "Of course. Where would you like to meet?"
She covered the phone with her hand as she let out the breath she was holding. "We can meet somewhere near your address. You probably noticed that I didn't really do much other than sleep all day. I don't mind driving there."
She heard a quiet chuckle at the other end of the line. "There's a bar near my apartment. It's usually very quiet. I can send you the address if it's fine for you."
"Yes, that'd be perfect." She really needed a drink. "I'm leaving the school now, so see you there?"
"I'm looking forward to it."
She ended the call and turned to Ryosuke. "That wasn't as painful to listen as I expected."
"Shut up." She wanted to thank him, but they already had enough heartfelt moments for a day. "Do you need a ride?"
His wrapped hand motioned towards the sword. "I'll finish this before I clock out."
A/N,,
tsuba: sword guard
saya: scabbard
Merry christmas everyone!