Archive of Our Own

Nobara doesn’t actually remember her first impression of him. She likes to think, all things fucking considering, that it was a good one?

Every time she tries to recall it, though: nothing. Nada. There’s no fated moment, no arrow from Cupid striking her harshly in the chest, no meeting of their eyes that has a rush of everything she’s ever been missing her whole life come swirling to the forefront, forever changing her from that second on. 

Which is bullshit, because if she is gonna be this fucking obsessed and hellbent on having someone, it’d be a little goddamn nice to have it all start because of something meaningful, y’know?

Honestly, though… honestly, she barely even noticed him at first. They’d share a room and she’d hardly even care. He was just another sorcerer filing in and out of Jujutsu Tech, with ugly glasses and a questionable choice in fashion, and, honestly, there were a bunch of those, men and women and awkward little apprentices constantly taking up space within the shaman center of the country. He hung around Gojou a lot and ugh, that was never a good sign. That meant he was probably annoying or a creep, and she already had plenty to deal with from her weirdo teacher.

If she really puts her mind to it, though, she can vaguely remember this one instance with the two in question, standing in the lobby, discussing something-or-other.

Gojou was clearly saying something exasperating, his hands waving in the air and an annoying sparkle glowing around him.

Nobara had been stomping past on her way to the boys’ dormitories, hellbent on harassing the others into entertaining her, when she’d probably… man, she doesn’t even remember. She’d stopped to check her phone or something, and after she’d looked up, she glanced, quite naturally, towards the loud nonsense on the other side of the room. 

And she saw him, expression stoic, face canted in her direction.

It took her a second to really notice, her own thoughts elsewhere, plotting something, probably, until the glint of his sunglasses caught her attention, and she realized she couldn't quite parse out where his eyes were focused. 

Was he... looking at her?

Fuck. He was.

She turned away, and that was the end of that.

Uneventful. 

Right?

(Oh, wait. There was this one time…)

“I’m so sorry, Kugisaki-san.”

Nobara scoffs, sneering at him sharply as he dissolves into another fit of babbling apologies. 

So, little secret: She fucking loves messing with Ijichi. It’s so easy to rile him up, one stern look and his bottom lip is wobbling and tears are filling his eyes. It makes her feel so damn powerful, she can’t take it, and the feeling of it, flustering someone like that, is so damn nostalgic it makes her heart sing. It’s been a while since she got such a high from messing with a man, not after all the guys at home had gotten used to her antics.

“So, what you’re tellin’ me is, you can’t take me to the mall today?” she demands, hands on her hips and feet tapping aggressively against the pavement. “Even though you promised you had time in your schedule to drive me?”

Ijichi flinches. His eyes shift around, fingers twitching nervously on the wheel. “Th-there was an emergency,” he starts in the smallest, wavering little stammer, but before he can get into it, there’s a soft groan from somewhere behind him.

Oh.

Nobara leans in and peeks inside. The car had tinted windows, she hadn’t been able to tell from where she’d been standing on the sidewalk, and Ijichi hadn’t seemed keen to actually explain why he was attempting to just drive by in a rush, but then she glimpses it.

There’s a sorcerer sprawled across the seats, his eyes squeezed shut and brows furrowed in exhausted concentration. In the few seconds she sees him, she notes the bob of his throat as he swallows, the way his mouth hangs open as he pants, the sheen of sweat that douses his forehead and the tousled way his hair falls into his face just so. There’s a wound that he’s gripping on his side, but she can’t see how bad it is because Ijichi is making a curt little pleading sound in clear disapproval, and she straightens with a click of her tongue, processing what she’s just seen.

Fuck, he’s sexy. Is it weird that she finds a bleeding, injured man so damn sexy? Probably, but who cares.

“Fine,” Nobara huffs, turning away fast and crossing her arms. “But you owe me.”

“Thank you, Kugisaki-san,” Ijichi quickly squeaks out, and they’re gone before she can even try and sneak another peek. 

(Visiting Shoko later that day in an attempt to get another glimpse of the man didn't work out. But at least she found out who she was ogling at.)

Messing with Fumi’s dad was funny.

She’d taken to sitting on his lap now. She thought of the idea, not him, and she had to highlight that point because he made it clear every time they were together that this wasn’t something he would let Fumi see, that he was only allowing it because Nobara insisted. And she did insist, because the reaction she got from him was funny, and the way it distracted him completely when they played Smash Brothers was funny, the way he got so completely red, letting out the occasional strained squeak like an overflowing kettle emitting steam. He must be so embarrassed that he couldn’t win a single game when she did it. It was the perfect cheat code.

Originally, she really only did it if she was suffering from a long losing streak. It had only started after she’d launched herself at him after a frustrating day at school, trying to wrestle the controller from his hands and sitting with a huff when he laughed and held it away. He’d nearly choked on his breath when she did it, tried to hide the sound behind another chuckle as she perched herself atop his thigh, but she heard it. She noticed.

Now, she made a beeline to him every time they were alone. His reactions never lessened and she loved the wins it earned her, so it never occurred to her to give him a break every now and again. 

The television glowed bright in the darkening room. Outside, the sun was starting to settle behind the horizon, long shadows stretching across the furniture. All too loudly, the announcer shouted the victor of their last game.

Nobara: victorious!

She threw her hands up in the air and cheered.

Fumi’s dad swallowed. “Okay. It’s getting late. Let’s get you home.”

“Waaaait,” Nobara whined. “One more game, one more game.”

“... Nobara,” he warned softly.

Nobara looked up, shooting a glare at him and squirming in frustration, seconds from a sudden tantrum. “You said we can’t play for the rest of the weekend cuz you have work, right?! So play one more game with me!”

He pursed his lips together. 

“... Okay.”

“Yay!”

Nobara flopped back into her place against him, tapping fast at the controls to boot up the next battle. She could feel him breathing in deep, languorous exhales and rolled her eyes, jabbing her elbow into his ribs just as the game began.

“Also, can you stop poking me in the back so much?” she huffed as her fingers started to fly. “It’s not gonna make me lose so you can just quit it.”

“Sorry,” he tightly replied.

He stopped letting her sit on him after that day, but it was fine. She figured out other ways she could win.

“Wait... are you fucking serious?”

Nobara balks, grimacing to herself as she feverishly roots through her bag. 

“Oh c’mon, I just had it, where the fuck is my card?”

The cashier only stares helplessly at her, slowing as they bag her last few items. It’s peak mall hours and it honestly seems like half the city has crammed itself into this particular shopping center, piling up in a grand, spiraling line right behind her at the exact second she loses her credit card. Just to fuck with her, because losing the damn thing isn’t humiliating and goddamn worrying enough. 

Her grandmother will rip her head off if and when she finds out. She hasn’t even been in the big city for a month yet and she’s already failing to be responsible for her livelihood. 

Annoyance rapidly spirals into panic; where had she seen it last? She had it on the subway, had it at the cafe, she just bought some make-up. Did she leave it in the dressing room? Did someone else swipe it? What the hell? What does she do?

“Do you have another form of payment?” the cashier asks after a few moments, stress coloring their polite tone. Nobara’s head is snapping towards them, teeth bared like a wolf ready to bite and a loud, haughty complaint seconds from spilling from her mouth, when they’re suddenly interrupted.

“Is there a problem?”

And there he is. All sunglasses and sharp cheekbones and a jawline to die for and, fuck, has he always been so tall? She’s never just stood next to Nanami before. He dwarfs her so easily it makes her head spin. 

The cashier glances between the two of them, and that’s when Nobara weakly answers, shock and awe briefly making her forget her pride.

“Lost my card,” she mumbles.

“That’s concerning,” is his initial comment. Then, without hesitation, he’s pulling out his own wallet, tugging a card and presenting it to the air. It’s shiny black and impressive, and as he holds it up, she notices the glint of a thick silver watch on his wrist. “May I?” he asks, and hands the card over to the cashier without waiting. 

Nobara gawks as the total flashes across the screen:

¥18982.99

“Would you like a receipt?” the cashier asks.

Nanami glances at her expectantly.

“Sure,” she replies weakly. 

The cashier hands it over. Nobara stares faintly at the long list of dresses and skirts and a few dangling accessories she’s bought, that spiraling number marring the bottom of the page. Nearly nineteen thousand fucking yen. And he hadn’t even blinked at it.

“You should call your bank as quickly as possible to report the loss,” he tells her as she continues to stare. “Do you have a way home?”

Dumbly, she nods. Returning the gesture, he turns and makes his way out of the store, wandering back into the shopping center and leaving her with her mounds of shopping bags.

That’s how it starts. 

(She finds her card in her jacket pocket, by the way. Because of course she does.)

“What the fuck is that?”

“Nobara!” Saori gasped, laughing. “Language! Who taught you a word like that?”

She shrugged. She didn’t feel like talking about the old idiots who liked to fish downtown who always had candy to offer her, or the men outside the bars of the alleys she liked to play in sometimes who would always try and coax her in for a conversation, laughing easily when she repeated their dirty words back to them. She didn’t feel bad or awkward about it, but why would she wanna talk about boring country folk when she was with Saori?

“What is it?” she asked again. 

Saori giggled, and her laugh sounded a bit like a choir of angels. “Silly, it’s a dress! Haven’t you ever seen a dress before?”

“Not a dress like that,” she replied plainly. Now, the villagers were wrong when they said Saori looked down on them all just for being in the country. She was too good to think badly of anyone, even when it was absolutely well deserved. 

That being said, she hated when Saori treated her like she was stupid. Of course she’s seen a damn dress before.

“It’s so frilly,” she added, to clarify.

“Isn’t it?” Saori beamed and twirled with the dress again. “I meant to tell you, I went back to Tokyo for a quick visit last weekend and when I saw this in the window, I couldn’t help but get it for you...” Her smile brightened like the sun peering through clouds on a stormy day, and she lifted the dress up that much higher in the air. “Ta-da!”

Nobara gaped at her, feeling warm all over. “You bought me a dress?”

“Well, you’re always in those track pants. I wanted to see how cute you’d look in something like this!”

“I like my track pants,” Nobara said before pursing her lips, dissecting her words apart. “You think I’m cute?”

“Of course I think you’re cute,” Saori replied with a grin. “And you’re gonna look even cuter in this!”

“Maybe,” Nobara answered, doubtful but a little excited. She wore what she wore for more than just fun. She was a fighter, and it wasn’t like she could fight in frills and lace. Sometimes she had to beat up some of the older kids in the playground, the ones that thought they knew anything just because they were a year or two older. Sometimes she had to wrestle a curse away from the parts of the town that she liked, exorcizing them with small nails and whatever she could grab before they could latch themselves onto the area and feed. Wearing pretty things like this would only risk them getting ruined when they inevitably got in the way.

But if Saori wanted it of her, she was more than willing to try.

Nobara blushed as she changed. Every time the fabric graced her skin, she was reminded of its cost. Saori spent money on her. Saori thought about her when she was alone. Saori cared enough to want to make her smile and see how cute she could be.

“Ohhh...” Saori breathed out when she was done. “You look like a sweet little doll!”

Nobara twirled a little. She didn’t like the frills and lace but she loved the pastel color of it, the contrast against her dark hair. It was nice to look at, like Saori was nice to look at. She’d never realized this was an option for herself as well.

“I just got an idea!” Saori gasped. “Can I put make-up on you?”

“Make-up?” Nobara blinked and came over, excited for more. “Like what my mom wears?”

“Yeah! I bought some and I have to practice putting it on someone else! And you’d look so cute with some more color on your cheeks,” Saori explained as she grabbed for the closest drawer and started to root through it.

"Okay,” Nobara replied as she leaned close.

Saori smiled. She coaxed her into hopping onto the bed with her, taking a bag of makeup and holding it perched against her lap as she knelt in front of her. Before she was too distracted to, Nobara tried to sneak a peek of its contents, but none of it made sense, pencils and brushes and swatches that looked like watercolor paint palettes. 

For a long, long moment, it was quiet. Saori hummed through her concentration at times, but otherwise, it was just the two of them breathing in sync, interrupted only by the flitting of a brush across her skin or the smack of paste being spread. It all felt so soft. It was so nice to just let her eyes drift shut and feel that softness dancing across her cheeks, lulling her into a daze as easily as a bedtime lullaby.

Then, suddenly, Saori stopped.

Nobara pouted, huffing out, opening her eyes to see her reflection staring back at her, a mirror propped right up to her face.

“What do you think?” Saori sung out.

Honestly?

She looked a bit like an angel. She also looked a bit like a mess. The make-up didn't blend like she’d seen others do it, the pink on her cheeks was heavy, and the creamy smoothness of her skin didn't seem natural at all. 

But she also looked sweet. Like a doll someone crafted with their own loving hands.

She considered that, dissecting again. This was how Saori wanted to see her. This was what Saori wanted.

“... It’s nice, I guess,” Nobara answered, nonchalant. She tilted her head this way and that. “What about the lipstick?”

Saori laughed a little, placing the mirror down. “You want to wear lipstick?”

Nobara blushed. It’s not that she wanted to. This was all Saori’s idea in the first place. “My mom wears it,” she muttered. “My grandma, too.”

“I didn’t really buy any lipstick. I have chapstick, though? And some lipgloss. That’s mine, though. We probably shouldn’t share that...”

“I don’t mind,” Nobara said, heart skipping. If it’s Saori’s, she wanted it.

Saori made a thoughtful humming sound. She rolled over, took her bag, coaxing Nobara closer again and tipped her face up by her chin.

The lipgloss was cool and sticky sweet. It smelled like peaches, with a lingering twang that reminded her of all the candies kept just besides the cashier station at the store. 

Saori smeared it on Nobara’s lips first, dabbing the tip of her finger in and patting along her mouth, then, after a quick thought, she spread the remnants along her own lips. Her mouth sparkled, lightly pink and fragrant. Nobara stared at her, her heart beating far too fast to breathe, lungs choked with the taste of sugar.

Saori’s so close. It made her dizzy. It felt like something was about to happen, and she couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, afraid she’ll ruin whatever this was if she did.

A small smile curled her sparkling lips. Saori tilted her head at her again, tapping a finger against Nobara’s jaw. 

“... What would you do if I kissed you?”

Nobara gawked at her. “You wanna kiss me?”

“I mean...”

She faltered a little before giggling again, reaching out to give her cheeks a squeeze.

“You’re just so cute,” Saori sighed. “Why can’t you be my age?”

“Why does that matter?”

She shrugged, pulling away.

“Well, I can’t do it now...” she mumbles, looking sheepish. “It’d be weird...”

“But you already want to?” Nobara asked. “So what’s the difference?”

“The difference...” Saori repeated, meaning to answer but only trailing off, looking puzzled. 

Now she couldn’t stop asking questions. 

“Do you always want to kiss me?” she demanded, leaning closer. “Do you think I’m pretty? Do you, like, like me?”

“Nobara,” Saori interrupted. She was laughing, but her brows were furrowed like she was in trouble at school and about to get scolded. “Let’s make a deal? What if I kiss you now and we can save the other stuff for later?”

“When is later?”

“Like, when you’re older...”

“How much older?”

“Nobara, please?” She bit her lip. “Is it a deal or not?”

She huffed, but if it was what Saori wanted...

Nobara had never kissed anyone before. She didn’t really know how to prepare for it. She knew what happened in movies, so when Saori started nudging herself closer, she closed her eyes and waited, puckering her lips just so.

Their lips met, for only a moment.

It was soft. And it was warm. And when Saori pulled away, she could smell peaches tenfold and she could feel that stickiness smacking apart as they broke away from each other, leaving her mouth tingling.

Ultimately, though, it’s a little... disappointing.

Not that it wasn’t nice. It felt really nice. Precious, even, like that feeling of squeezing a teddy bear against her chest and basking in the warmth it earned.

But she couldn’t imagine waiting years for it. All that fuss for a fleeting feeling.

Saori smiled at her awkwardly. She slid off the bed, nervously wetting her lips and grimacing before looking away, already heading for the hallway.

“... Let’s do something else, now, okay?”

Nobara shrugged and she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Okay.”

There’s about four or five different shopping centers in Tokyo that she loves to frequent in.

After the lost card incident, she sticks to the one. 

The reason why is obvious.

The first time she comes back, she dares to look for him. It’s stupid but she finds herself jumping at every glimpse of golden hair she passes by, craning her head for any tall fuck she may or may not pass by. 

Her usual route changes. She can’t end the day without glancing through a rack of men’s jewelry, or peeking into a store full of expensive suits. He looks like he would like books or whatever, so sometimes she passes by the bookstore, or lingers particularly close to a newspaper stand flashing boring business headlines out into the world. She never finds him. 

Whatever. If fate wants her to have a sugar daddy, the universe will ensure that they meet up eventually. 

As it would have it, the universe decides some piddly little cheesecake café is the perfect place for a rendezvous.

Mind you. It's one of her favorite spots at this mall. There's about thirty five different flavors of cake to try, not including the little pies and smoothies and sweet, sugary dessert sandwiches available to sample instead. It's one of those places she dreams of taking Saori, if she ever sees her again. Completely knock her socks off with how impressive of a selection it is, and then present her with enough money to buy her anything and everything she wants. That’s the dream right there. 

But for now, she's treating the fuck out of herself. She just got her paycheck for the week and she's going all out (even though, damn, she wishes someone else was paying for it instead).

She's about to take another delectable bite of a delicious banana cream sundae when-

"Oh, hello."

A shadow crosses over the table, brilliant moon eclipsing the sun overhead.

Nobara turns her head up, mouth hanging open, spoon suspended halfway on a trip towards her waiting tongue, and there he stands, her credit card savior, the mysterious foreigner sorcerer and his stupidly sculpted hair and fantastically broad shoulders. 

He gets more handsome every time she sees him. How is that even possible…?

“I’ve noticed you here a lot,” Nanami murmurs in greeting, waving a hand with some difficulty, his arms crammed full of shopping bags. “May I?”

May you what? she wants to ask. He doesn’t clarify any further. 

Her eyes follow what he’s staring at. The only thing on the table is her sundae, only a quarter of the way eaten.

Isn’t that a little…

Whatever.

Nobara offers.

She shrugs before scooping up a bite and lifting her spoon up for him to taste, watching him expectantly. Because anyone in their right mind would know this is a cue to something more. It isn’t exactly platonic. Not a move you whip out to someone you only barely know and have no actual interest with. Like, it's really fucking forward, and honestly, she's a little appalled at her own audacity for assuming he'd actually go for something like this. He's not Gojou, willing to do any stupid, childish thing for a quick and alarming gag. 

Nanami’s expression doesn’t change, though there’s a brief moment that could be hesitation as easily as it could have simply been a decision to act.

He leans in.

His lips part and her spoon disappears into his mouth, a soft hum leaving him as he tastes what she's offered him.

And, wow!

What the hell?!

“It’s very good,” he says as he pulls away. “Though, it’s a little sweet for me.”

(What the hell what the hell what the hell)

“Well,” Nobara replies with a loud scoff. “Good thing this wasn’t for you.”

(What! The! Hell?!)

Nanami blinks before he chuckles as well. "Yes, you're right," he replies, nodding his head, and then he adjusts the bags in his hands, gathering them in a firmer grip. Nobara immediately peeks towards them, taking note of what he's bought:

Damn, that’s a lot of bread. She expected to see clothes and books, but it seems like he’s just visited a bakery, or a deli. Or both. She’s trying to decipher the contents of the closest sandwich she can see when he takes a step away, adjusting the bags once more in his arms before he does. 

"I'll see you around," he says with a small, polite bow. "Enjoy your evening."

"Uh- wait," she calls out, nearly standing in her rush and faltering when he immediately stops and stares expectantly at her for more. What the hell, she wants to yell at him. You don’t just go munching on some random girl’s sundae and then walking away like that didn’t mean anything. Like, who does that! Is that a foreigner thing? Is it racist to assume this is just some weird Western bullshit going on, because how can he act so normal about what he’d just done?

“Yes?” he asks after a moment.

“What- what do you like?” she blurts out. “Since this is too sweet for you, what do you usually get??

“Well, I haven’t been to this particular café before,” he answers politely. “I’d have to look at a menu.”

Next thing she knows, she’s scrabbling to grab a menu from a nearby, unused table. “Got one right here!” she’s calling out, and he looks at her, bemused, before he takes a glance at that same silver watch she remembered from their last encounter. 

"I have some time."

He sits down, placing his bags by his side and taking the menu from her. There’s a small smile on his lips and Nobara returns it, dazed and excited as she takes her seat, too. 

He had more stubble than he used to, more speckles of gray sneaking into his hair. The smell of his cologne was so familiar, the way it so persistently stuck to her clothes for hours and hours after. She was going to stink like him for the rest of the evening. This encounter would mark her, in a way, but not in a way that really mattered, that could really last. She wondered if he ever thought of that.

She didn’t remember why they were alone in a room together, because they weren’t playing games anymore. There wasn’t a need for excuses anymore. Maybe it was for exactly this.

Quietly, she shifted from where she was sitting on the ground, facing where he sat on his armchair. She smirked, curious.

“What would you do if I kissed you?”

“Nobara.” He grimaced. “We shouldn’t.”

“You wouldn’t be my first,” she said, crawling closer. 

An odd look inched into his eyes. He shook his head.

“That isn’t good...”

Her lips curled just a little more at the corners and she crawled closer, coming besides the arm of his chair. Easing herself onto her knees, she leaned in and watched his throat nervously bob as he swallowed. 

For a split second, she entertained the thought of just biting down, sinking her teeth into him like a vampire, holding him in place with the vicelike grip of a monstrous jaw. But she didn't have to. Just with a look, she had him trapped against his chair. He wouldn’t be able to escape. She was going to drain him of everything he had inside of him.

“I’m a really good kisser,” she added, forcing him to imagine it. Oh, who else could have captured her full lips, tasted the cherry lipgloss that painted them, claimed her mouth and took their time exploring every part of it...

“Nobara,” he heaved out. He sounded like he was in agony. “Let’s not. Let’s just change the subject.”

She rolled her eyes, pouted her lips, looked as adorable as she knew she was.

“Do you at least want to?” she pushed, because by now, she’s learned. If they said it enough times, they could at least act like they tried. It was like when she swore up and down to stick to her newest diet, only to sneak a few cookies before dinner anyway. Something about the whole song and dance absolved them of their dirty little thoughts, easing away the guilt just long enough for them to indulge. It kept them from being the ultimate evil, allowed them to still consider themselves just barely good enough to keep from burning in hell forever.

“I...” he trailed off, looking lost and blinking slow.

Nobara grinned. She wasn’t just a vampire, she was a siren, entrancing all she spoke to, weaving a spell with her words and with her body. She couldn’t help but lean in that much more, letting her breasts push up in her shirt, her hand drifting to rest on his thigh.

He was hard already. She hadn’t even fucking done anything yet.

“I won’t ever bring it up again if you tell me,” she whispered, understanding and coy. “It could be our secret.”

“I don’t know,” he admitted reluctantly. There was a pause. “Maybe.”

He flushed. She smiled at him, licking her lips again as she rubbed up and down his familiar lap.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He glanced away. “... Maybe.”

She withdrew her hand. “Okay.”

He coughed. “Let’s change the subject.”

She sat back again, satisfied. 

“Sure.”

On a nosy little whim, Nobara googles the watch Nanami wears.

It takes some sifting. Really, she should have taken a picture, but she remembers enough details to find it once she places the brand and finds a catalogue to scroll through.

When she sees the price, she freezes, her eyes wide, her mouth instantly going dry. 

Imagine having five hundred thousand yen to spend on a whim. It makes her measly shopping trips feel like an absolute joke. 

Is this what it’s like…? Is that the perks of being a Grade 1 sorcerer…?

Holy fuck.

She hated kissing boys her age. They aren’t careful, they’re gross and greedy. They rush. They don’t wait for her to initiate, they don’t have that special amount of care, there’s no I can’t, you can, I can’t. They spend time together, she goes into their room and their tongues are in her mouth before she can finish pointing out the tacky poster on their walls. 

Girls her age... God. 

Why did they have to make her feel like a freak?

She’s upfront, and they don’t like that. They want to giggle and fidget and sigh and spend an entire date just glancing at each other. Nobara kisses one girl on the mouth and gets a whole bunch of texts that night about moving too fast, about not being sure, about being a little uncomfortable with how... forceful she is.

She hates that. It makes her feel predatory, which is so unfair, because she knows she’s not. She just knows what she wants! It feels so bullshit to try and pretend to be coy and act like she doesn’t want the exact same thing that every fucking human being on this earth tries to look for from the second they land on this godforsaken planet to the second they die. 

That’s just what she gets, though. Deep down, she knows her type. She knows the kind of person who actually knows how to handle her.

“Can I have this?”

Nanami only offers a single glance in her direction before he returns to staring at his phone. “How much is it?”

“Does it matter?” she shoots out instead of answering, holding the dress close to herself. It’s aquamarine and shiny smooth, a shade that she’s sure would match his eye color if he ever bothered to take his damn sunglasses off and show her what they looked like. “You’re rich.”

He scoffs in amusement, the slight quirk of his lips absolutely unmistakable. “I do have a budget,” he admonishes, pretending to huff about it.

“Put me in your budget,” she immediately demands.

“That isn’t how this works,” he replies. 

How what works, she wants to shout. It’s not like there’s ever been a system in place, they’ve never talked about what they were, they just keep finding each other, and Nanami keeps spending money on her like it’s the easiest thing in the world without asking for a damn thing in return. She wants to make him say it, what he’s doing and how it works and why, but he’s already moving on, blindly taking the dress by the hanger and placing it in the cart in his arms.

And she’s not about to argue with that.

nk:
what would you do if i kissed u rn?

Nobara’s bored and it’s 1am and she can’t sleep. So she’s doing what she always does when she’s bored and it’s late at night and there are men willing to entertain her for a tired hour or two.

+8154-483-1257:
oh, so you wanna kiss me?

nk:
mayb

answer the question tho lol

And he does.

“What’re you getting out of this?” she asks boldly one day.

Nanami blinks at her. “Excuse me?”

“I mean, don’t you want something?”

He falters, glancing around at the table between them, the platefuls of crepes and syrup, fresh juice squeezed into quaint little glasses, a few chairs propped up besides them with a number of stuffed full shopping bags, begging for mercy as they struggle to hold in their contents.

His lips purse in confusion. “Are you not enjoying yourself?”

“No, I am. That’s not why I’m asking, though.”

Nobara stares at his expression. He looks uncomfortable. Does he look uncomfortable? It’s hard to tell, his expression changes so little. Clearly he’s contemplating the question, and the seconds are ticking by, and he still hasn’t answered, so she thinks, aha, gotcha. He doesn’t want to admit it. He doesn’t want to admit the truth because she’s a sexy little sugar cookie in a well-hidden cookie jar that he’s oh so tempted to take a cheeky little bite of before he steals away for himself and dashes into the night.

“There isn’t anything in particular I want,” Nanami slowly says, which she’s sure is a lie. “You’re a student of the technical college and a future colleague. It only makes sense to maintain a positive relationship with you." He shifts in his chair. "I also am told the least about you among your peers.”

“Huh?”

That surprises her. “They talk about us?"

“Constantly,” Nanami says. This time, she’s sure he’s uncomfortable.

“What do they say about us?” And then, she pauses. “Who is they?”

He shrugs and sips nervously from his mug. "The elders. The community." He gestures vaguely with the fork he's holding. “It is easy to feel neglected... when you aren’t one of the outstanding members of the group,” he says slowly. 

“Uh, okay,” she says and drops the topic.

He ends up taking the check anyway, but that doesn’t really make her feel all that better after the fact.

She doesn’t know why she does it.

Okay, yes she does.

It’s because she’s fucking hot. She’s hot and she knows she’s hot, and sometimes, it’s nice to know that other people know she’s hot, too. Her ego’s been taking a few too many blows lately. She can feel it bruising like a soft peach. 

It’s not a big deal, though. It’s not like she makes a whole big deal out of it. She tends to prefer long self-care days anyway, and the care she lavishes all over herself as she showers has nothing to do with what she has planned later. She scrubs herself down, exfoliating damn near every dead skin cell from her body, and then she spends a good amount of time patting lotion onto every naked inch of herself. She’s glowing by the time she’s done, and then it’s on to her hair, brushing it out, running product through it with a determined comb of her fingers, making sure the color is being brightly maintained and keeps looking as stunning as ever.

After that, it’s only another hour or two that she spends in front of a mirror, her phone clutched in hand and its camera flashing. She wants - needs this to be casual. A gift she’s offering out of her sheer giving and merciful nature.

All her efforts are worth it, though, in the end. The final product is beautiful. 

She sends it excitedly and waits for the worship to start rolling in. 

She doesn’t get a response until it’s nearly midnight.

This isn’t fair to Fumi, he writes. 

And it isn’t fair to you. I deeply apologize for everything I’ve done to encourage this type of behavior. I never should have allowed it to get this far. As the adult, I should have been responsible. I should have stopped you and I’m sorry I waited until now to say anything, but you need to understand. This is incredibly inappropriate and I can’t allow you to continue on this path I’ve led you on. All these years I have taken advantage of your naivety and your trust in me and it is one of the greatest regrets of my life. Nothing fills me with more shame than to remember how I’ve treated you in the past… but at least now I can right those wrongs. Let’s stop this before it’s too late for both of us.

You deserve better. 

Nobara throws her phone and screams into her pillow until the urge to cry in defeat finally releases its grip on her.

A month and a half later, he sends a picture of his cock in his hand, furiously red and already dripping. She ignores it with a roll of her eyes. Of course.

nk:
Can i come over?

His answer is immediate.

NK:
Absolutely not.

nk:
Why not

NK:
You know why.

She smirks to herself.

nk:
Scared of what'll happen?

NK:
Not exactly.

nk:
I bet you are

His answer doesn’t come for another few minutes more, before:

NK:
I’m not.

nk:
You wouldnt have anything I havent seen before lol

Another pause, before his answer comes, making a wild little laugh leave her:

NK:
I hope you’re referring to my décor.

nk:
Maybe ;) Maybe I'm not

Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. He brushes her off, he toys with her words, a lilt in his responses that never fails to betray his amusement. And she keeps pushing, because it’s funny, and fun, and she wants to see what will happen when he’s finally sick of fighting, when he finally accepts what he wants without his complicated little excuses.

You’re not coming over, he promptly sends her, a near-twenty minutes later. End of discussion. 

He’s definitely looking, though. He’s definitely interested.

Nobara catches him staring all the time. She’ll be turned away, preoccupied, and suddenly there’s this tickle, that telltale caress of a gaze against her skin, settling between her shoulder blades, drifting down her back, ghosting over the short length of her skirt and down to her thighs, disappearing seconds after she's able to acknowledge it.

His recognition haunts her; she’s so sure it’s there, and then she’ll turn around and he’s still fervently in his discussion with Gojou, or Ijichi, or any other sorcerer he just so happens to be seeing instead of her.

Those fucking glasses are so convenient. She could just as easily convince herself that she’s just crazy. It’s like he’s been put on this planet to humble her, like, no, not every guy who looks your way is just aching to feel you up, you dumb narcissistic bitch. 

But then, why talk to her? Why buy her things? He’s definitely spent a pretty penny on her at this point, easily over a hundred thousand yen by now. And men- men don't just do that.

So, why?

“hey beautiful. been a while. got any new pics to send? been thinkin bout you all night. so hard for you rn. dying for more, maybe we can get on cam tonight”

Boring. 

'Fumi mentioned you the other day. She said she missed you. How’s Tokyo? I’ve been missing you, too. Do you remember when we used to play Smash together? Sometimes I think back to those days…'

Boring.

Nobara taps from app to messaging app. None of these conversations are particularly titillating anymore, they’ve staled as they waited there, read and ignored. Honestly, she just wishes she were talking to someone new . Nanami never initiates a conversation, even though he was the one to offer his phone number to her in the first place, in case of emergencies. The group chat she keeps with the others is always going off, but she’d rather do something a little more mature. 

…

Speaking of mature.

Why is she suddenly getting a message from her idiot teacher?

Traveling to and from the school is kind of inconvenient. It’s too annoying of a walk to get to any main roads on foot, and with the way some of these barriers protecting the campus are, anyone without clearance is blocked from entering by some magical interference. Which means it’s not as easy as just getting a taxi to take her to the closest subway station. She has to wait for a manager to be available to drive her out, and, just like anything else worth a damn in this community, drivers are a limited resource, constantly being fought over by other sorcerers. It means a whole lot of carpooling and a lot of waiting around hoping that a fellow sorcerer will be hitching a ride in the same direction as the mall.

Really, that’s why they end up spending so much time together. 

And it’s why they eventually come to the easy conclusion of giving her a place to lounge while she waits those long hours for Ijichi to come get her. 

It’s an easy excuse to get her to stay, in any case.

Nobara sprawls on the couch of Nanami’s office. There’s a soft daze over her thoughts, a lazy repeat of I can’t believe I’m here that patters along, humming past with the thrum of the ceiling fan overhead. 

She doesn’t know what she expected to happen when she finally managed to share the same intimate space with him. She definitely assumed he’d focus his attention on her more than he’s actively doing at the moment, instead of typing away at his computer the whole time. Guess that’s her fault for popping by during his shift. 

“Hey,” she starts suddenly. “Can I tell you something?”

“Of course,” he says, his typing slowing but not stopping completely. 

“It’s about Gojou-sensei,” she says and suddenly there’s silence. 

Good. 

“What about him…?”

“He’s being weird,” she says and rolls over to lay on her stomach, fighting the urge to watch him for his reaction. 

“... In what way?”

“Just, you know. Friendly.” She peeks towards him. His hands are still where they sit on the keyboard, and he’s not looking at her, lips pursed tightly together as he fixes his eyes on the screen in front of him. “More friendly than usual.”

“I see.” He almost hesitates to continue, his fingers flexing just so before stilling again. “Is it bothering you?”

“Not really,” she admits. “But it is weird.”

He doesn’t add anything to that, so she continues:

“I guess it started after Itadori died,” she mumbles out. “Like he wanted to actually check up on me. But now we just talk. It’s like now that he’s out of the way, I’m suddenly interesting to him. Is that awful for me to say?”

“Sounds like it may be the truth,” he replies quietly. “So.”

“It’s kind of like with us,” she continues. “Just suddenly we're hanging out and getting friendly and not in a teacher-student way. He doesn’t talk to me like I’m a little kid, which I like.”

“Uh huh.”

“Unlike you, though, he doesn’t hold back. At all.”

“I see,” he replies, voice clipped. “Maybe this isn’t the best subject of conversation, then.”

“See? You’re doing it again. It’s like you’re afraid of it,” she whines and scoffs. “I don’t get it.”

He lets out a low sigh. “What is there to get, Kugisaki-kun? You are free to say whatever you’d like to me. Clearly there is something you’d like to get off your chest.”

“Oh? And ruin the air of mystery? Why would I want to do that?” She sneers at him. “Nah, let’s just keep ignoring the elephant in the room, that’s been working out for us great. All these questions and not a single answer to ‘em, just how I like it. But I do wanna keep telling you about Gojou- oh, unless it makes you jealous to hear.”

Another breath, this one a long, heavy exhale through his nose. “And why would that make me jealous?”

“I dunno,” she sings. “You tell me?”

“I don’t have time for this,” Nanami decides, clenching his jaw. “I have work I need to be doing.”

“Okay, okay,” she sighs, flopping back onto the couch. “I’m just sayin’. I bet he would let me stay the night.”

He sniffs indignantly. “I bet he would.”

“He’s rich, too, isn’t he? Richer than you?” She hears him typing again and continues, louder. “He must have an awesome apartment.”

“It’s alright,” he replies. “You’d be disappointed in his choices in interior design.”

"So you've been in it?"

He answers stiffly. "Yes."

She snorts.

"Suspicious."

He shrugs.

"I have nothing to hide."

She eyes him, challenging.

“Really?”

“Yes. Really.”

He meets her gaze evenly, his lips pursed as his fingers pause poised over his keyboard again. 

Does she want to know?

Maybe one day. She’s sure there’s plenty of sordid details to learn there. It’s not like she hadn’t already guessed they were fucking. They had to be. Gojou’s so annoying, the only way she can imagine anyone choosing to spend time alone with him is if they got a regular taste of his cock or his ass or his mouth, whatever. Anyway.

More importantly, she’s finally chipping away at what she’s been wanting for, God, a good couple of weeks now. 

“Anyway, he’s like an open book and once you get him started, he doesn’t really stop. He’ll blab at me all night if I let him. I bet you can guess what we talk about.”

“I have a few ideas.”

“It’s weird, though, right? He’s my teacher. That kind of thing only happens in porn and soap operas.” She watches for his reaction, though he gives her none. “Or those scandals you hear about on the news. But that’s exactly the kind of shit you get up to when you move to a big city, y’know? I totally expected it. It’s cuz I’m great and irresistible, so it was only a matter of time.”

He’s ignoring her now, typing again. And it makes a strange little swell of anxiety jab through her because she’s so close, they’re finally talking about it, and she doesn’t want to go back to staying up late at night, waiting for his nagging little message to join the fray frothing at her feet. 

“He’s not the one I want, though,” Nobara says suddenly. “I want you.”

Nanami doesn’t miss a beat. 

“That’s nice,” he says and continues working. “I’m flattered but I’ll have to refuse.”

Her heart rate starts to pick up.

“You don’t have to.”

“I’m afraid I do.”

And a storm fills her chest, her lip baring in a sudden snarl.

“Coward.”

"This isn’t about cowardice.” He stops to stare at her. “It’s about being responsible. And it’s about setting an important boundary, one your teacher has clearly failed to instill in you.”

“You’re not listening to me,” Nobara complains loudly, rising fast to her feet. “He’s not doing anything I don’t want him to do. And since when do you have to be responsible for me? You’re not the boss of me.”

A cool expression comes over his face as he appraises her silently. Then, he turns away. “Perhaps this is not the best time for this conversation,” he mutters tightly. “Clearly you’re too riled up to see reason.”

And that just stings at her.

Nobara stands there for a long moment, glaring. She can’t remember the last time she’s been made to feel like this. Her face burns with genuine humiliation, and the sting of it briefly fills her vision, room smearing like watercolor paint for a split second before she firmly blinks it away.

She’s not wrong about this. She knows she’s not. She wouldn’t be here if she was. 

Fine. If being cheeky and being sweet won’t work, she’ll be direct. She’ll apply pressure. Make it her fault. Take the blame for initiating because he's too scared to act like a man should.

He’s decidedly not looking at her. And while he ignores her like an oh-so mature adult naturally would, she brings her hands up and loosens the buttons of her blouse. 

She’s not stupid. 

There’s no reason for a man to hang around a teenager like this in private unless he wants her. No man would dole out this many gifts without expecting something in return. He must think she’s so damn naïve, to not notice the sips from his flask he'll sneak in public, the lingering stink of liquor that’s been gracing his breath during so many of their encounters. To not notice the way his hands would hover towards her, or linger through an innocent touch. Temptation rearing its ugly head time and time again, only to duck away when it was acknowledged like a prey animal hiding from the wicked talons overhead. 

He continues to stubbornly hold his attention elsewhere but even he has to at least know what’s happening in his periphery. Her shirt falls open, her cleavage spilling free, a tantalizing peek of her bra showing underneath. All he has to do is look at her. Look at her and see the shirt he’d bought for her slipping away from her ample, fully developed chest, and then whatever qualms about her being just a little girl will fall away. There isn’t a man in existence who can resist a woman hot and ready for them. Right? That’s how this shit works.

She steps forward, leaning over his desk. He slows to a stop, breath tapering away, held in his chest as he fights to look at hers.

Nobara grins. Maybe he’ll notice the shade of lipstick she’s wearing for him, too. 

It hadn’t been cheap. He would know.

“Can I kiss you?” she whispers, breaking the silence stretching between them. “I want to.”

“No.” He frowns. His jaw sets, his lips pressing into a thin and angry line. “This isn’t funny anymore, Kugisaki.”

“I’m not joking. I’m serious.” She climbs onto the desk for him, gently pushing his keyboard away. Sensual stuff, like the beauty in a film noir, the woman any protagonist would drop dead in a second just to have. A siren, a vampire, a temptress casting a spell. “What’s the harm in one little kiss…?”

She reaches for him, and that’s when he flinches to life and catches her hand, nearly wrenching her from the desk. At first, she thinks he’s pulling her into his lap, a thrum of excitement hitting her, but then her feet is hitting the floor, and she’s left standing in front of him, eyes wide and mouth dropped open in confusion.

“Kugisaki,” Nanami all but snarls. “Cut. It. Out.”

Nobara glares at him. “If you’re afraid of getting caught, it’s fine, I’m not gonna tell anyone, I want thi–”

“I said no –”

“But I know you’re into me, it’s obvious, so what’s the problem?”

“The problem? ” he incredulously repeats before he shakes his head. “I swear, I don’t know where you got this idea from that I’d be interested in any sort of sexual relations with a chi--”

“I got it from you!” Nobara screams suddenly, ripping her hand from his grip. “From this! What the fuck am I doing here if you don’t want to fuck me!?”

There’s a clatter of something sharply hitting the ground, something wet spilling out, but neither of them turn to look at it. Their eyes meet - no, Nobara’s glare focuses on the goggles always blocking his eyes from view, fiery and wet. 

After a long moment, Nanami raises a hand and slips the shades from his face. He lets out a long sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose and rubbing roughly at it before he meets her eyes properly, his own pained and beautiful. 

“You’re wrong,” he says slowly. “And I apologize for ever giving you that impression. It wasn’t my intention.”

“Oh, sure. So I’m just making this all up, then,” Nobara scoffs. “Very nice.”

Nanami frowns. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t care.” Nobara looks him dead in the eyes. “That doesn’t change anything. I still-”

“No.”

“At least say you’re flattered-”

“That would be encouraging you too much.”

“You are so full of shit. Five minutes ago, you were fine with it.”

“Five minutes ago, I thought we were on the same page,” he snaps. “This conversation ends. Now.” He stands up, reaching for his phone. “I’m calling Ijichi. You need to be taken back. I deeply apologize for this, but if you’re not going to talk sense, you can wait in the lobby downstairs. I hope I’m making myself clear.”

Nobara wilts. 

“Crystal.”

It takes a couple of days but she finally gets her first message from Nanami.

What’s happening between us now is very common, he writes. But you have to understand. 

Aha, another rejection. 

I do not mean for this to come as an insult for you. I truly value the time we spent together.

Deflection after deflection. Denial. Lies. Blah blah blah.

She sends him a picture of her tits. It’s not even a good one, it’s a quick one, cheeky, a shot of her boobs from down her shirt, squished together by her bra. She’d taken it a few months back for some pervert she’d blocked a few days later. A favorite to use when she couldn't bother to give more of a shit. 

Within seconds, his contact is lighting up her phone as it violently rings. 

Her first call from him.

How nice. So many firsts all in one day.

"That was fast," she greets as she answers. 

“Please don’t send those kind of pictures to me,” Nanami grits out in anguished reply.

“Did you call me to avoid having written proof down or somethin'?”

She’s sucking on a lollipop as she speaks, slurping softly, the candy clicking gently against her teeth as she twists it in her mouth. It makes her feel like a young, sparkly-eyed starlet, pouting through the abuse of her cruel but sexy lover. 

“Yes.”

She grins, and lets him hear the loud crunch of triumph she makes right into the speaker.

“Cool. Love the honesty,” she replies. “Are you hard right now?”

“No.” She can hear him grinding his teeth all the way from over here. “Please be serious.”

“I am being serious." Her legs swing from the bed. "Phone sex is fun.”

“This is not--” He pauses and takes a breath. “Delete the picture. Don’t send me things like that again.”

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll be forced to block your number. Please don’t make me do that.”

“I like when you say please," she says. He doesn't respond for a beat and she adds, annoyed. "I’m not making you do anything.”

“You’re trying to.”

“Because you started it.”

There’s another pause. She thinks about blackmailing him. Clearly he's already scared of a digital footprint. He's nervous and jumpy. It'd probably be easy.

But, fuck, that’s not what she wants. She’s already not happy with the direction this is all twisting into. She’s not trying to ruin his life. She just wants his attention. She wants what every other man is so willing to give her.

She sighs.

“Fine. I’m deleting it.”

“Thank you.”

“Yeah,” she grumbles. “Won’t do it again.”

“Thank you.”

She contemplates telling him.

Doesn’t.

You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, Gojou writes. You have no idea what I wanna do to you right now.

Nobara chews her lip, reading the messages over and over, memorizing the desire that’s punctuated into every letter.

What do you want to do? she asks to egg him on.

And he tells her.

It’s honestly disgusting how much detail he gets into. She thinks about it in class, holding back her smile as he glances her way and she remembers how much he wants to spread her legs apart and dip his face between them, lavishing at her with his mouth like she’s the sweetest, finest buffet on the planet. He's so insanely forward, more than anyone she's ever talked to. He wants to fuck her and eat his own cum out of her, wants to make her choke on his cock and swallow his load down, wants to make her scream and limp for days on end. 

And it's nice.

Knowing what he wants.

Not having to fucking guess.

I’d love to see you in this, he writes, 

Drive myself crazy thinking about how much I want you, he writes.

Can’t wait to make you mine, he writes. When can you come over?

And through it all, she plays coy, but she wants it, too. His addicting enthusiasm infects her like a fresh virus, and all it takes is a word, a notification, the soft buzz of her phone as he fills it with fresh new messages. She flushes, heating up, stumbling in her rush to open the screen and see the receipt for a new gift, or a long sprawling declaration of lust, or a sexy little picture that has her cheeks burning redder than the sun when she receives them.

When can you come over?

He asks, again and again and again.

It doesn’t take long until she finally responds. 

It’s terrifying. Exciting. The days leading up to it, it’s all she can focus on. She sees herself naked in the shower and thinks about how he’ll be the first to really see her. She toys with the idea of touching herself, never gaining the confidence to really try, and she imagines his long fingers, his huge hands. She rifles through her underwear to get dressed and pouts at the ratty panties, the worn down cotton with little holes and fraying lace, mismatched colors that clash with her skin. Childish and simple. 

What he’s bought for her is much better.

She almost doesn’t recognize herself in it. 

Nobara stands in front of the mirror for a long time. 

She’s going to lose her virginity today. She’s going to become a woman; become more of the woman she already is. 

She should feel happier about this.

She is happy about this.

She is.

If she’s so happy, though, why is she thinking about Nanami at a time like this…?

It’s so stupid.

Spending time with him wasn’t supposed to mean much, anyway. It was just about the attention and the money. He was nice to talk to, sure, he was caring and kind and there was a quality in him that she could never put her finger on that she wanted to trap in her hand like a snowflake falling from the heavens. 

It had been so different. Not having him… do that. It was almost kind of nice.

They don’t really talk as much anymore. And when they do, the conversations are stilted. He keeps his hands to himself. She closes her heart off.

But there was more she wanted to tell him. 

Because it was kind of weird, Gojou’s attention. It made her feel small. His want sparked up like a sudden supernova exploding all around her and in that instant, in every instant, she felt herself diminishing within it. 

And maybe that shouldn’t be happening.

Maybe that time he followed her to the bathroom as she choked back tears and grief was disturbing more than flattering. Maybe, when he’d wiped her tears and pressed her to the wall and kissed her in the shadows of the school hallway, she hadn't necessarily wanted to kiss back. Maybe she hated him a little for it. Or maybe she just hates the way it was handed to her so easily, and she had let him take and take and take without even the smallest fight. Without even making him chase her for it.

Stupid. 

They agree on a time to meet.

His living quarters are weird, he explains. His on-campus home is apparently too much of a risk, but he has a couple of safehouses in the area, private places that they won’t ever be found in. A sentiment that sounds more than a little creepy coming out of his mouth, but she agrees anyway, insisting that the long walk over won’t be a problem. She doesn’t want to be ushered to his place. She needs the time to gather up that confidence. 

She lies and says it’s because she doesn’t want to be around him a second more than necessary, and the way he laughs at that sticks with her all evening, haunting and mocking her even as she gets ready.

It’s nearly midnight when she sneaks out of her room and starts taking the trek over. Her new lingerie squeezes tight to her body. She imagines his hands there, unraveling them all, peeling away the lace and ribbons and ripping her tights, fingers groping and pawing and clawing all the fabric away. Thinks about him pressing his dick to her, smashing his mouth to hers, doing everything he’s drooled over for ages. 

How much she wants this.

Wanted this. 

No, wants. Present tense. Still.

Still wants it.

Like, a lot. 

Yeah.

She walks for a long time. Past the gate, past the stairs, down along the path of the mountain. The cold air makes her shiver but it doesn’t stop her. She’d only worn a few light clothes, a sexy little excuse for a kimono thrown over her lingerie, white like a wedding dress, something soft and silky and easy to tear off. Something that feels absolutely idiotic to walk around in without at least a coat to shield her from the weather. 

She grimaces to herself. Roots out her phone from her bag, staring at the time, the stream of sexy, excited texts waiting for her to read. 

A drop of water lands on the screen, obscuring the light glowing from it for only a moment before it blackens with inactivity. 

Nobara scowls. 

She rolls through her contacts until she finds Nanami’s name and calls.

“Hello?”

He sounds exhausted. She can’t respond, not for a long time, and eventually, gently, he softly repeats. “... Hello?”

“I made a mistake,” she whispers into the phone. “I need you to pick me up.”

There’s no dejected sigh after that, no audible disappointment from him. 

Nanami simply responds with: “Alright. I’ll be right there.”

And it’s enough to make her tear up.

Of course, by the time Nanami arrives, it’s raining. Hard. And it’s cold, a chill lingering in the air, egged on by the sudden cut of an occasional breeze. Her clothes soak through, make-up running over her cheeks, her hair turning into a matted, sopping mess and the ground under her feet softening into frigid mud. It all melts away her moroseness, souring her mood into something far more bitter and childish. 

Why the fuck did she ruin her chances of a steamy affair for this?

She’s an idiot. An idiot. What the hell is she expecting? Yeah, she must look real attractive now. Nanami will definitely sweep her off her feet after this one, with a big dramatic speech about how wrong he was to turn her away to boot. And he'll go and punch Gojou for trying to steal away his woman before riding off with her in the sunset, kissing her all the while as their romantic theme plays and the credits frantically roll. 

She’s watched too many goddamn dramas. 

The reality of it is, Nanami is quiet as he approaches. No swelling orchestra to announce his arrival, no singular spotlight, no gasp of an enraptured audience. His form just drifts into view, footfalls erased away by the soft whistles of the storm around them. The top half of his body is shielded by a dark umbrella that nearly makes her groan in relief at the sight of it. He stops two steps away from where she sits at the top of the hill, eye-level with her now as he greets her with a slow nod, a wariness in his gaze. Pointedly, he doesn’t look. His eyes linger on her face for only a moment before they’re shifting towards the empty air besides her head, determined to keep from glimpsing towards the spoils of her rather exposed body.

Honestly, she’s never felt uglier. 

Nobara stands, and she can’t even find it in her to smile as he automatically leans closer to hold the umbrella over her, allowing himself to be soaked in her stead. He’s missing part of his usual uniform, jacket missing like he rushed out of the house without it. His sleeves are rolled back, and that stupid watch of his is in view, its face dashed with raindrops. She hopes it gets ruined. 

She scowls before turning on her heel and starting to walk. He follows, silent, and she only lasts a few moments before the quiet around them starts to kill her.

“You can ask,” she mumbles. “I don’t care.”

“I’m not sure I want to know,” he replies honestly.

“I was gonna see Gojou.”

“Ah.”

“I changed my mind, obviously. Not because I’m scared or because I’m not ready, but,” she fumbles, shrugging and glaring at the ground. “I dunno.”

He sighs. 

"... What do you think?" she hesitantly asks after another few moments. "About... about that."

"What do I think...?"

He stares away from her, glancing towards the messy heels she's clutching at her side. 

“... If it were up to me,” he mutters, something in his tone heavy and full of remorse like he wants to snatch the words back as he says them, “you would be tucked into bed right at this moment, having never left your room to entertain that asshole. But it isn’t.”

He glances up at her. She evades her gaze, clenching her jaw as she listens. 

“I could run myself ragged trying to warn you away from all this but the truth of the matter is, I can’t stop you. As much as I wish I could take you as far away from here as possible, all I can do is try and guide you away from the decisions that will hurt you, and be here to tend to your wounds when they inevitably do. Another shitty goddamn caveat of being an adult; knowing that there’s no other way to learn than to feel the pain of your own mistakes.”

Another sigh, trailing off into the cold air. And she stares at him, for a long moment, feeling his words desperately trying to penetrate through, her stupid, senseless mind ignoring it all for a chosen few.

I wish I could take you as far away from here as possible.

She stares at the ground, grimacing at the dirt seeping through her tights. 

Where would you take me? she wants to ask.

This never would have happened if you’d just taken me home with you, she wants to argue.

I don’t know why you’re so different from all the others and I still don’t believe you are and I hate the way it makes me feel when you push me away, she thinks as she bites her lip and holds her responses back and walks in silence with Nanami just barely behind her. It scares me and it sucks because either I’m right and this is just how life is supposed to be or I’m wrong and something really, really bad has been happening…

She never answers him. He lets out a third sigh, a reluctant surrender into the natural conclusion of their conversation. And they trudge on.

The sight of the dorms is a depressing one. Nobara had spent hours imagining what it’d feel to return here with her cherry popped and her earned identity as a full-fledged woman officially instated. She’s still just a pathetic virgin, made even worse by the fact that she couldn’t even properly do her walk of shame without a fucking chaperone. She’s the absolute definition of a loser. 

Nanami walks about as far as the first gate before he starts to hesitate and glance away. His reluctance grows even as they travel past it, but by the time they’re reaching the entrance of the school, he’s hanging back, eyes on the ground and guilt radiating from him. 

Like she couldn’t feel even more like shit. 

That should be a sign for her to stop trying, but she can’t stop at this point. She's a broken record, irritating and ruining everything she touches. She just wants this evening to mean something. 

Nobara pouts her lips as she turns towards him again, a hand lingering on the doorknob and her lids heavy and sultry as she gazes up at him through her lashes. A bastardization of a seduction, but a tragic one, her broken heart on her sleeve, her eyes misty with tears that are more genuine than they have any right to be. Hope chokes up in her throat. Only a monster would turn away from her now. 

“Come in with me?” she shakily whispers. 

He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Nobara,” he murmurs, and he leaves.