▬▬ clockwork reckoning: a deviating link

The seventh hour of the day. 

There is a misty rain earlier. 

It is a quiet late summer's rain, with such an comforting temperament as is typical of the season. 

Yet I pray that I shall live as an inspiration and play the part of one who follows inspirations. 

I must walk forward with strength and dignity.

I strive for the honorable future each sorcerors' dreams of, for what great satisfaction I shall accept from my devotion to my daily responsibilities! 

"Yeah, like hell I'll say that." Those were the first words and thoughts the moment you woke up. "Blah, blaaah . . ."

The alarm clock on your phone was still blaring in your ears. It woke you up. You never wanted to wake up. Yet it was still a reminder that your life was always clockwork.  And you still hated it.

"Fuck you, alarm clock." Then you turned it off.

Alarm clocks were never been your companion every day, and if ever it could talk, it would say: "Fuck you, too."

You chuckled, amused by the dysfunctional state of your mind.

Today was the first day of your work as a teacher now, and you were not prepared for what kind of devil's spawns you'd be meeting today. 

You were also staying in the staff quarters of Jujutsu High. You left your recent apartment; it was too far in the mountainous site of the school and the transportation access was difficult. Since you were a newbie teacher—still eligible to be fired if you didn't do your job properly—the perk such as having a service was still not given to you.

"Fuck employment caste system," you muttered, heading to the bathroom.

Before you started your morning routines, you were staring at your mirror. You were glaring at the image you were seeing, and it glared back. You smiled, and it returned the smile. You scoffed, smiling evilly, and it equally mirrored you. You hated it. And the more stared at her, the more you learned how much your inner self created wretchedness.

"Praying for you to die soon." You grinned confidently.

Words of affirmation. Nothing else.

You woke up extra early to have enough time to pamper yourself. You must leave a good impression on everyone because you were still under supervision. The principal of this school was about to reject you, only if not for Gojo to back you up.

You sighed. Your life had been contradictory recently.

"I would trade anything just to stay in bed today," you grumbled while in the shower.

Your morning was a series of rants, frustrations, and a pocketful of nihilistic dramas.

And before you knew it, you were already in the faculty office.

You looked around. There were two people sitting on the couches available inside.

It was slightly unexpected to see Gojo. For you, Gojo was never the early-morning person and you could bet your first paycheck that he was always late.

"Urghh . . . Mumble, mumble . . . Those senile fools, I don't wanna meet them! I hope they'll die sooner!"

It happened that you weren't only the one who was grumbling about today.

Sitting across him was Nanami, reading the morning papers about stocks and trades. You could say nothing about the man. He was someone who would take the vantage point of doing his duties imprinted so solidly within his bones.

"Morning, y'all," you greeted, logging in to the daily time record.

"Oh, Her Highness is here!" Gojo returned, his energy was brought back after seeing you. "Excited for your first day?"

You grimaced. "Not in the least." Then you questioned, "You two are early, eh?"

"Sorcery mission in a few." Nanami was the first one to respond. "Itadori-kun will assist me."

You nodded while making silent 'oooh' sounds. Yuji, being alive, was still being kept secret, and in the meantime, the teaching responsibilities were in Nanami Kento's hands.

Shortly, Gojo replied, "I'll be meeting those old fools! What's with the weekly meeting nonsense?" By the tone of his voice, he was so fed up with them. "Save me, Ryusei!"

Of course, he'd still call you on your fake name. Murphy Ryusei was your current identity, calling you by your real name would cause trouble.

"Oh please, trust me, I was about to retire this morning just staying in this gloomy place."

"You haven't even started, retiring already?" Gojo muffled, making a pouty face. "Such a loser~"

Inanimate veins of annoyance popped on your forehead.

"Have you seen my schedule?" you said incredulously. Getting your phone out of your bag, you browsed to the images where you saved it.

You would like to pass out when you saw it again.

"No matter how I define it, this is definitely a torture! Modern-day slavery!"

You were not humoring them . . .

Nanami timidly smiled upon hearing you.

Whilst Gojo openly expressed his laughter. "Welcome to Jujutsu!"

"'Welcome to Jujutsu', my ass." You rolled your eyes. "'Welcome to mind fuck!' is better."

This teaching schedule was still tentative; no one would know what would happen in a single day of a sorcerer. Especially for you who took more than a teaching job. Your missions were not included here, and your research agenda with Gojo about the Theory of Singularity. Plus the other healing duties.

Ah, so complicated.

"A'ight, time to go." You rose from your chair, putting the strap of your bag on your shoulder.

"Oh, Ryusei!" Gojo garnered your attention. "I know you're capable of hand-to-hand combat, but are you good enough? Those gremlins are doing better than any thoughts."

You pursed your lips, lacing your fingers on your jaw. "Hmn . . . Now you've mentioned, and yes, I am a one-shot-kill type of person and don't engage much in a combat . . ."

Now you were a teacher, you limited your techniques, also keeping it a secret. Healing duties, heightened physical strength, and teaching responsibilities—that was all.

But . . .

"I'll be fine," you replied with a thrift grin. "I might be a little rusty, but I went under a female elite military and federal bureau trainings before."

"Heh? You did?" Gojo was awestruck.

"Uh-huh. When you have limitless lives, living with a different identity is a must."

Really burdensome. Particularly the fact that you were always asked why you didn't seem to age.

"Soré jā~" you remarked as you went out.

Without motivation, you proceeded to the training grounds of the school—in the oval race track. There, the students were already here. Looked like they had finished warming up. They must have started the day earlier than you did.

"Hmn . . ." you hummed incredulity. "That's nice, students, don't be rotten like the adults."

But you doubted that they wouldn't be.

Sorcery was all about stress, depression, curses, and death. And depression again.

I better suck it up.

And it was no wonder why their whole day was dedicated to training, a little academics, because becoming full-fledged sorcerers was a matter of dying and dying alone, thus it focused more on building up an individual strength and how to utilize the full extent of one's capabilities.

You walked silently behind them. Never committing a sound, not letting your presence be felt.

There were four of them. And a panda . . ?

You panned your head to your right, perplexed.

Little gremlins. Yes.

Satoru said nothing about them. He told you that it was better to meet them on your own.

Suspense? lmao.

But he made sure that he told the students about you. Introductions were a pain in the ass.

A little while later, you reached the kids without noticing you—literally a few steps behind them.

"Kon'nichiwa." There was a vicious, icy emotion on you.

The students felt shivers crippling on their spines. A flight-or-fight paranoia. You brought them the kind of fear that could only be triggered by real threats.

In just a split-second decision, they simultaneously wielded their weapons towards you, going on a defense mode, prepared to slay the gnarly anxiety behind them.

Your smile became wide as soon as they clobbered you with their designated fighting stances.

"Nice, nice," you chuckled while swerving the wooden stick pointed at you. "Aren't y'all energetic? Good to be young, huh?"

"Who're you?" The lass with glasses asked as bluntly as her long wooden staff.

"Oh, I thought that Gojo has already informed you all about me?"

Then, one by one, the young sorcerers relented, but their glares were still seeping through you.

"Sensei told us nothing." If there was a person who was born with natural scowls, that would be this young man with a sea urchin head.

"That little shit." The mental image of you made a 'fuck-you' sign. "No one did?"

"None."

"Okaka."

They replied in unison.

You deadpanned. "Fuck them all."

The students were frowning at you, appalled by your ghetto attitude.

You sighed, standing up straight. "I'm Murphy Ryusei. Although you all are not informed about me, starting today, I'll be your new teacher. You're all second and third years, right?"

"No. There are only three second years here."

Whoah. The panda talked!

"Me, Maki, and Toge." Then gesturing the bespectacled girl and a guy with a covered mouth. "The third years are suspended as of now."

Suspended third-year students? 

Then why did that asshole give you a schedule with third-year classes . . ? 

That ass . . . Now I know why he never told me anything about the students.

"Then, these two?" you inquired, pointing at the sea urchin head and the brunette lass.

"First year, Kugisaki Nobara."

"Fellow first year, Fushiguro Megumi."

"Ehh . . ." you expressed your moue. "First years? It's the Little Shit Satoru who's supervising you two, right?" Yuji as well, though secretly.

"Gojo-sensei doesn't show much. We mostly train on our own." Fushiguro Megumi, the sea urchin head. "And do you even mind your attitude?"

You were being scolded by the first year.

"I say what I want to say, brat." You tapped his shoulder but his annoyance grew more. "This is a joint class, then?" I wasn't informed.

"Oi, in case you're forgetting something–" the headstrong, straightforward Maki blocked your way– "you still look suspicious to us. A new teacher? Out of the blue? Why don't you show us proof?"

Feminine intuition is quite accurate, yes?

You only smiled casually to the student.

Little gremlins. Really.

You already had your school I.D, so you showed it to them as proof.

"Murphy Ryusei, Grade 1 Sorcerer." They recited what was written on it.

"ooh . . ."

"Ikura."

"She doesn't look dependable to me."

"I agree whatever Maki-san says."

As you expected. Being ranked as a Grade 1 was the highest status a sorcerer could hope to achieve through the natural progression of ranks. Whilst you didn't have the ambiance or posture of a Grade 1 Sorcerer. To the eyes of the students, you would be the first one to break the standards of what sorcerers should strive to be.

"Now, now, we shouldn't judge based on outer looks." Panda handed you back your I.D card.

"Well, I neither have an idea about your reasons for your training, nor what kind of cursed technique you have–"  you prompted, putting your bag down– "because I don't give a damn to that. It just happens that I have plenty of time, and I'm benevolent enough to waste some of it just for you."

The students watched you threading down the surface of the race track. Even if they wouldn't admit it to you, your overwhelming confidence was something ideal yet it peeved them off.

"I'm also a Reverse Cursed Technique user, there's no need to hold back on me," you crooned with a demented smile, it reflected the evil glint in your bead-like eyes. "With that being said, it goes the same for me: I won't hold back even if all of you dropped half-dead on the ground."

_______________________________________________________

Never did in the history of Jujutsu High have bulletins of a teacher with brutal and merciless training. It even disclosed that this teacher whose level of skill was frighteningly high. 

It was just the third-day meeting them. You had gauged each and everyone's potential and were able to learn more about their weaknesses. Yet you were there to provide sufficient methods how to improve what they lacked.

You were skilled in every martial art, having mastered cursed-tool wielding and taijutsu, but highly uncultured. If there had to be a flaw that could be said of you, it was that you would talk and were always talking shit to them or to everyone.

You were often summoned to the principal's office for disregarding the core principles of being an educator.

Having you as an instructor with healing abilities was an advantage for the students. While Yaga was stern in education, disliking the methods with faulty motivations, he understood the reason behind it, too.

Despair and near-death experiences were equivalent to surpassing their limits.

"It wasn't my choice, okay?" you defended to the principal, Yaga Masamichi. "Those kids are asking for it. And are you going to deprive them of the chance of getting stronger? I'm quick to restore their physical injuries and health anew, so I see no problem with that." Not to mention if they died in your hands, you could revive them.

"You're causing too much attention," Yaga said with a resigned voice. "And the higher-ups are already taking a notice of you."

Ah, shit.

"That's bad news, right?" You chuckled nervously.

"Maybe yes, maybe not," he answered. "It depends on how you took it."

"Tch. Whatever."

You showed tremendous help to the sorcery society. You had carried out your protection duties all alone, never relaxing your guard around anyone. Even easing the works of the school doctor—Ieiri Shoko—down. And thus you became a valuable sorcerer.

After a short talk, you were dismissed right away.

Three reasons.

One: you still had a one-on-one training session with the students.

Second: five hours from now, you'd be having a mission.

Third: night shift in the infirmary.

Without everyone's thoughts, you were still conducting research with Gojo. And since you and Gojo were still in the research and hypothesis phase, doing it in the infirmary was still sufficient for now.

"FML, me . . . FML," you sighed while walking to the quadrangle.

Well, it always astounded you what motivated these brats to attend your classes. Was it the Kyoto Goodwill Event? Or simply to get stronger?

After a small greeting, you questioned them: "So, who'll go first today?"

"I will." Maki stepped forward.

"Alright, come on." 

You usually trained them in isolation. No particular reason, you just wanted it.

As for Maki, for a young sorceress without cursed energy, she had made her own label. You even irritated her with that thought, yet she was not just some girl who be bullied by jerks like you. In fact, she could easily keep up with you in the fight.

"Adapt and overcome. What else am I gonna do?" 

You remembered her saying that to you.

You weren't using your full energy and a proper technique, and that was discernable that her physical prowess alone wouldn't be much of help to get her through.

Later that day, your training period with her was about to end. The two of you sat under the tree to have a little reflection for today's lesson.

"Le'mme give you a visual, Maki," you began. "An 'If' scenario."

"What's it?"

"If Gojo didn't learn to master the 'Infinity', and you were tasked to kill him, do you think you'd triumph or nah?" You were just looking at the sunlight filtering through the leaves of the tree, waiting for her to respond.

"Just the 'Infinity', not his other CT?" You nodded to her inquiry. "I would stand a little chance, but I won't win." It was Maki's most honest answer.

You hummed complacently. "You think low of your capabilities, oi."

"Huh? That idiot is considered the 'strongest' for a reason, even without his Infinity."

"Meh." You scrunched your face up. "If I was that, I'd be able to kill him."

"What do you mean?" asked the Zenin lass.

"Can't be helped, ne? I'll give you some mind-boggling bullshit to meditate before you go to bed." Then you lazily yawned. "You may have the Heavenly Restriction, but you're blessed with physical attributes that you have yet to fully awaken. Not to mention your five senses being heightened to their absolute peak."

In the rarest moments of Maki, she was giving you her full attention.

"Sorcerers like Gojo can visualize an attacker or attack with the flow of one's cursed energy. And you lack cursed energy, you can take that as an advantage already. Also, if you were able to render the full potential of your enhanced senses, you won't be needing glasses to see the curses, because you will be able to hear, sense, and smell them approaching. Oh, did I mention that you have started to develop your curse resistance?"

"And how am I going to achieve those?"

"I don't know?" You shrugged with small scoffs. "That's for you to discover."

Maki only stood up to leave, remunerating the possibility of your 'if' scenario.

Soon, Panda came—the Mutated Cursed Corpse.

It was the same plan of action: have almost an hour-long spar, then give them something to ruminate.

"Panda, Pandaaaa~" you sang with a lazy tune, watching the birds fly. "What does it feel like to be a panda? Must be nice, ne?"

"Oh, you wouldn't ask for more if you became one."

"Haha." You only laughed it off, but deep inside, you more wanted to die than to become one. "And I don't mean to offend, but for a Cursed Corpse, you do have a great level of cursed energy, Panda yooo."

"The reason must be my creator."

You knew about his creator.

"I see. You've heard about the Black Flash, then?"

Panda joined you watching how the birds nestled on the branches of the tree. "I'm informed about the concepts of it, but never did I experience it."

"It's not something innate, not something about talent or whatsoever, that's why."

Panda was quick to reply, "Then what does it require?"

"Immense concentration," you flashed a bride, bored grin, "though it's quite tricky because the sparks of black do not choose who to bless."

"Sparks of black? 'Who to bless'?"

You hummed saying yes. "Black Flash does not belong to only one person, it is possible for anyone to do it with enough skills . . . So does the cursed spirits, I'd say."

Panda made no reply.

There was a pause, then something seemed to dawn on him.

And alas, the last second-year student for today, Inumaki Toge.

If there was someone among the students whom you felt comfortable with, it should be this Cursed Speech user. He had this weird mind-reading ability that could connect to you, even his sincerity and gentleness despite his words being limited.

"Toge," you called.

He was just listening to you with half-bored, half-attentive eyes.

"Look–" you showed him your grazed arm with dried blood– "I got this when I was training with Maki."

"Takana . . ."

"Oh, you're saying that I should heal myself?"

"Sha-ke." Yes.

"Hmm . . ." You pursed your lips, prolonging the end syllable on your mouth. "How about you do it?"

"Okaka?"

"Cursed Speech, using words with reinforced cursed energy," you explained, having a faint grin, "but it doesn't mean that you can only use negative words. Try reversing it."

Now with the first years.

You were starting with Nobara. 

She, without a doubt, would be invincible if she could improve more of her physical strength; her average stamina was her setback. Nevertheless, you couldn't see any other flaws in her—confident and unshaken character. Gojo had even mentioned that she was crazy plentiful enough.

Well, while her lack of empathy was selective—born out of the fact that she hadn't experienced the rotten core of the Jujutsu—you found it quite refreshing, not bowing down to the societal pressures that were coming along her way.

Only if you weren't a teacher, you'd be best friends with her. Because you two resonated the same energy.

"Say, sensei, how to be edgy like you?"

You frowned at the short-haired lass. "Here I thought you're going to ask me how to improve or some sort of shits."

"But we're done with the training part alreadyyyy."

Whiney brat.

But you could not see a reason not to answer her.

"'Edgy' is a vague word, Nobara. What do you mean by that?"

"This!" She gestured her open palms to you—the very you. "You, a walking goth, edgy but depressed type of gal, and you stay classy despite."

"That's how you define 'edgy', huh?" you mused.

It was generally seen as something bad, and today's definition of edgy was that one person that was really negative.

"Yes!" Nobara was fairly enthusiastic talking. "Yet sensei is superior. You constantly sneer or snark at people, insult or intimidate them darkly and sadistically. And it's not trying-hard, it's so natural to you. Flower, skulls, and bones for the win!"

"People send flowers to funerals, offer flowers to the bones," you countered, inciting a friendly debate. "So I can't see that as edgy as much as it should be associated with. But thank you for the thought."

"Eh . . . How can I be someone like you?"

"You don't have to be like me, my dear," you advised. "You are your own character, aren't you?" Your words held no hint of the fallacy of someone who has turned her back on the world. "It's not wrong to like gothic styles, flowers, skulls, and bones, or what have you, but never use it as a tool to sell it as a dreamy or cool feature just for the sake of being justified," then you spoke quite serenely, a smile of mischief was playing on your lips. "Just bite, no bark. Play with someone's mind, then watch them filled with dread, drowning restless underneath the endless wasteland."

Nobara took your advice with her whole heart. You only hid your unapologetic contrite inwardly; you were not sure if it was okay for a teacher to teach her something dire.

But nevertheless, you didn't care.

And fucking finally! 

"Fushiguro~ Megumi~," you sang his name, playfully but uninterested. "Gumi, Gumi . . . Megu-megu~ Me-gu-mi~"

A mark of vexation appeared on his forehead. "You're annoying."

"Yeah, I know." And you were unbothered by that. "I also love annoying more the easily annoyed people. You, Megumi, for instance."

He only grumbled a bit, holding his patience, then sighed. 

"Sensei," he called.

"Hmn?"

"How can you be so good when there's nothing special about you?"

You chuckled at the bluntness of his innocent query. "Again, 'good' and 'special' are vague words. Please elaborate."

"I mean, unlike the Gojo clan, or any other clans, you don't possess any innate or significant technique, but you're good at what you're doing."

Instead of getting offended, you took his opinion objectively; he wasn't wrong about that.

"So, in other words, you're saying that I will never do something remarkably special because I don't have the generational greatness in me, but I'm doing good for a normal sorceress?"

"Yes."

You stared at the young sorcerer inanimately. For someone who lived quite long enough, who had viewed the poisonous, corrupt world from different angles, you could assure that—

—"You think highly of yourself, don't you, Megumi?" you sneered at him. 

The Fushiguro kid had been thinking about what that King of Curses told him before, and yes, he had figured that there must be something special about him.

"Just because you were born with the 'ideal parental genes' in the right place at the right time, with the exemptional, natural talent that's susceptible for greatness . . . Perfection, doesn't it, Blessings-kun?"  

"Those do not really matter, realistic speaking; everyone and everything are just going to perish in the end," he answered in a soft-spoken manner. "Death is what gives life a meaning."

"Really? Whilst you're convinced that living to die is a part of a sorcerer's existence, I literally know someone who's dying to live just to save someone." And you were talking about Yuji, without his awareness. 

Megumi's words were momentarily forgotten. The abstract idea of a grand credo was outlined in his mind and he sat down to ask for your viewpoint.

"My viewpoint? About leaving a legacy of greatness to the next fucking years or centuries as a normal, boring sorcerer?" It staggered you, now leaving you thinking of a badass doctrine to a mindless badass doctrine.

The very badass doctrine did not fucking exist, especially for an insignificant speck of dust like you, only a wandering idiot wasting time and moments.

"Damn," you sputtered, sighing frustratingly, "you're like giving me an exam about life's deepest introspection."

"Eh." He was just on his casual unenthusiastic ass.

"Y'know . . ." You first struggled to systematically collect your thoughts. "Yes, I could speak about the ideal bullshits, or lend you a book or three about how to live your sorcery life to the fucking fullest, but greatness does not exist . . . Aptitude and competency do. 

"There are plenty of great humans who weren't necessarily unusual or eccentric, they are just doing the right thing, or at least trying to. Even the people you respect, or as well as the dumbest people we know, had their moments of feeling lost or questioning their lives' value in this fleeting world. And nevertheless, they pursued, it because they have the aptitude and competency.

"If you don't possess those two, Megumi, you better just drop fucking dead right now."

It must hypocritical to give such inspirational, epic lines when you didn't have the aptitude and competency yourself . . . And only if it was that simple, you could have just dropped fucking dead right now, too.

_______________________________________________________

You returned to Jujutsu High by late six in the evening.

I'm so exhausted af.

Hungry, too.

I need stimulants.

Or something anti-depressing.

Or anti-life, much better.

Just wanna fucking die.

You were just having a discourse with yourself about what your pitiful lifestyle was. Your mind was mulling all over, impatient of the fact that you were hurrying against the shortening time. It was ironic that you had all the time you needed, but not the time to die.

"Fuck thi—"

You discontinued what to say when your phone started to vibrate on the pocket of your blazer.

The name of Gojo Satoru was displayed on the screen.

You answered it.

[ Yo, Ryusei~! ]

[ Yo. ]

[ Where you at now? ]

[ Leading myself to my
dorm room. Just finished
my missions for today. ]

Obviously enough, you had no energy to match Gojo's high energy.

[ Oh, good, good~
I have finished my mission
for today too! And I'm about
to return to school rn. ]

[ Good work, then.
*whispers* u ass. ]

[ I heard it, yknow. ]

You only chuckled.

[ What do you want, btw? ]

[ Right ~ Yuji would like us
to have dinner together~
He's with Nanami right now.
So yeah, can you come?  ]

[ Yes! Sure, wae nawt?
Free dinner. Who doesn't
want free dinner? ]

[ Okkeh, Okkeh~
You know where
to find them, right? ]

[ Yeah, IK. ]

[ Owryt~ I'll see y'all
in a bit <3  ]

You knew where to find Yuji—it was where the secret chamber where Gojo and Nanami usually train him.

The secret chamber was connected to the morgue and infirmary as well. Your shift for tonight would start at seven—you still had an hour to swap duty with Shoko. You were first to arrive than the other sorcerers, the female doctor was already here.

You actually love being with Shoko's company; you were able to inhale her secondhand smoke—the only thing that could make you sane since last week.

"Gojo is such a killjoy, ne?" Shoko was usually laid-back, delighting in her precious smoke. She also knew about the deal he set with you.

You were just resting the back of your head on the top backrest of the couch, relishing the temporary bliss, then you replied, "Yep, a cockblock."

Shoko snorted, the vapor of intoxication whiffed out of her nostrils. "I'll just pretend that you didn't say that."

You only shook your head slightly. "Will you join us for dinner tonight? Yuji must be in the good mood for inviting us together."

"Hmm, I'll pass for now; I wanna get home early since you're already here."

"Eh . . ." You pouted. "But I want you to stay more and share me your smoke."

She knocked your forehead lightly. "While you're asking me to smoke more, there's literally someone who wants me to stop doing it. You're a bad influence yourself." Then Shoko stood up, prepared to leave you. "I'll see you tomorrow."

You just let her leave. Your schedule this whole day was so packed up with adulting bullshits.

Why the fuck I'm in this kind of situation?

You only dreamed of a life free of labor.

Gazing at the ceiling with emotionless eyes, you were contemplating if you'd get yourself a cigarette stick. Even though you were prohibited to do so, you took out a stick and pinned it on your lips.

Your eyes could see anything, but there wasn't much to see. The office of the morgue had an open floor plan, the furniture was not that modern, and not exposed to natural architectural elements. You sat there stiffly, imagining that you were smoking, and feeling a little awkward for arriving earlier than them. The office where you at was at the end of the corridor, in a far quieter and more secluded part of the building than the others.

"So gloomy," you muttered.

Sitting still, a hush fell on the place. 

About five minutes later, having a little soliloquy and being oblivious, Nanami arrived while bringing the ingredients for tonight's dinner. Without words, with a slight scowl on his thin brows, he snatched the cigarette from your lips.

It startled you, Nanami finding you sitting bolt upright.

"You shouldn't be smoking," he sighed, shooting the stick to the trash can.

"I'm not," you reasoned out. "It wasn't even being lit."

"Yeah, yeah, I heard you." There was a hint of sarcasm when he spoke, walking towards the kitchenette adjacent to the room. 

"Hmph. Hindering me from smoking is like an orgasm denial." You expressed in utter distress. 

Your words formed into rocks and were thrown at Nanami's head. They hit hard that left the man speechless.

"Aren't you going to take responsibility for me?" You went on like no one's business. "I think I'm getting dumber and dumber day by day . . . Please donate some brain cells or some sort of happy hormones or whatever kind of shits they are."  

After Nanami shook his head a few times, he told you, "You don't look very happy." 

"I'm quite happy, thank you." Yep, the sarcasm. "And I could say the same thing about you."

"Huh." His utterance held a hidden amusement, not responding any further.

You watched him take off his blazer and sunglasses, put them aside, and pulled his sleeves up to his elbows. He began washing vegetables and certain spices, and after, he prepped the utensils he would be needing. And based from the ingredients he had, it'd be a pasta dish.

Oh, he's the one who's going to cook? Niceeeeeee.

"What are you staring at for?" Nanami was noticing your gazes at him, and it started to peeve him off.

"Oh." You weren't aware that you had been staring. "It's just . . . I thought Yuji is with you?"

"He used the secret passage from the rear part of the school."

You understood why; Yuji could never use the main ingress where people could notice. It would take a quiet while for him to arrive. You had no idea what time would Gojo arrive, too.

"I see," you simply answered, gazes fixed on him.

Another vein snapped on his forehead, getting a lot vexed each second passed by.

"Now what?" Nanami's voice was controlled, being mindful of your irksome presence.

"Oh," you mused innocently, aware of your riveted stare. "I just thought that you need a hand."

"I don't," he replied stoically.

You didn't mind, still gaping at him while he worked on the slicing of the vegetables.

Nanami learned how to calm himself, lengthening his tolerance as much as possible, and he was just ignoring you.

You watched his solid knife skills, his ability to work clean and tidy, his speed and accuracy, and his knowledge of the ingredients.

"A man who can cook is so sexy, ne?" You couldn't help but admire him.

His eyes only flickered to you, then returned them from cooking. For him, it should be Yuji who was going to cook, he only started it because he didn't want to waste time just waiting.

"Though it's not that obvious, I respect men who cook." Still, you prompted, even if he wasn't giving his attention to you. "It's a very attractive quality."

"Uh-huh, keep that to yourself."

You grew bolder when he seemed to start to engage in conversation with you.

Even so, in Nanami's mind, his only wish was not to talk to you anymore.

"Cooking is such an art, no?" you spoke, having a coquettish tone. You were kneeled on the couch, hands propping on the top of the backrest with a strange-looking implement. "I'm not much of a foodie, that's why I'm not very motivated to cook complicated food." Though not exactly flirting with him, you were striving to be charming.

The man in the kitchen only hummed, only to appear that he was getting your words on his head.

You stop talking for a moment. Nanami was usually silent. There was no sound from the room other than the knife hitting the cutting board, the water boiling on a deep pan, and the searing meat being sautéd.

"You're such a husband, Nanami."

Your words struck him as rather thoughtless, although not particularly teasing. 

Nanami, one of the few moments in his life, found himself struck stupefied, in the sense that your prattles never stopped flowing, because you had shown him a statement he never anticipated.

"Huh . . ?" He looked at you questionably. 

"Hmm?" Indeed you had the delightful feeling just then that you gained Nanami's attention, thus you chattered happily on to him. "I mean, with your age, it's likely high of you to be in a relationship, right?"

He only scoffed, going back to his work. "I'm sorry to break your expectation, but I'm not."

He didn't seem to break your expectation; you oddly felt optimistic.

"Then–" you raised your hand enthusiastically– "I volunteer!"

You left a profound frown on his forehead.

"What?"

"I volunteer!" you repeated full of mirth. "To be yours!"

And when he recovered from your puerile declaration.

"Shut up."

With two words, he single-handedly broke your spirit. Heart wrenching. Little tears prickling your eyes.

"Accckkkk!–" you grasped the middle of your chest– "I'm being rejected . . !"

And then you dramatically fainted on the couch.

this has reAched 5.8k words 😭
and y'all notice this story have
been becoming insignificant
lately?? yeah, im noticing it too
so sorry for providing such . . .
but im still gonna write as if i
have readers or supporters or
whatnots . . . i think it's not
getting better like i supposedly
predicted. but that's okay. it is not
still straying on the plot i have
built in my head. but i didn't
expected to be this boring lmao.
that's why im sorry. (but im kinda
unapologetic myself fufufu :3)

and not me being obvious enough
fangirling and thirsting for nanami
in this chapter XD

JJK SEASON FAKEN TWOOO!!!!!

💃🏼💃🏼

HANDTHE;REND