Long Post Cw / - Blog Posts
The bitter taste of defeat, Megumi remembered that. A belly full of blood and guilt. A heart which wanted to tear itself apart upon seeing Yuuji die with a hollow chest cavity, Megumi remembered every detail. What he could not recall however, was carrying the limp and macabre body of their fallen friend to their driver nor the gruesome drive back to Tokyo's Jujutsu Technical campus . . nor the couple of days proceeding the death — a mess of regrets and mourning which could not take full shape. Was Nobara as broken up about it as he? Megumi suffered on three levels having lost Orochi, Shiro, and, most grievous, failing to protect Yuuji.
With gloom clinging into every pore of his body, the onyx haired teenager emerged from the hermit-like dormancy of his room and attempted to move through the shared living area as stealthily as a shadow. Reclusive plans were shattered the instant eye contact was accidentally initiated from across the room. He didn't know how to feel, he didn't know how to react; he always guarded his feelings from the outside world and even from his own self. Gaze dropped to the wooden floor, and the teenager shuffled his feet with uncomfortable energy. ❛ How are . . you . . Kugisaki? ❜
just how long had it been since she allowed herself to feel so utterly saddened by something well out of her control? only twice: this was one time, a bygone happening in her past ... when saori's parents saw it fit to move her out of the village and away from nobara because of all the harrassment received due to them not being from there, them being gossipped about, them sticking out as much as she in their little non-jujutsushi way. them being outsiders.
she had been age seven then and at age seven, saori and her family were gone.
at an age that young, being the jujutsushi child that she was, emotional regulation was something that she was taught with a more refined finesse. it'd had spell disastrous if she ended up cursing the villagers for their act of transgession against her childhood friend, so she did what all children did when their hearts were broken and she cried in front of saori's abandoned home instead, hand holding fumi's.
the seat she reserved for saori became empty, vacant, and the pain twisting her heart like a knife stab turned into resolve over the years. sure, fumi was still seated at her table but it wasn't the same. it wasn't like saori died or anything, and she promised to meet up with both her and fumi when she got to tōkyō, but still — —
it's been near a week or so following itadori's demise and sleep doesn't find nobara any easier than it did a few days ago. put out early in their mission, she had to learn of its aftermath through a visit from fushiguro while recovering in the hospital from injuries sustained on their mission in eishu.
just how long had it been since she allowed herself to feel so utterly saddened by something well out of her control? only twice: this was the one other time. only more recent and the stakes raised were higher, the probability of meeting again lesser because death was always hot on your heels.
itadori had died and left their group down to just them two, only her and fushiguro. but the seat itadori dragged to her table of his own volition was one decidedly bolted to the floor by none other than nobara herself. she puts up a good front, attends classes with as straight a face she could manage, but at night instead of scrolling social media she'd sometimes find herself poring over the text thread in the groupchat she shared with fushiguro and itadori.
instead of reading messages over and over that equally made you cry or laugh, any sane person would have just left, however nobara is crazy and honestly? it'd feel a little wrong leaving. kinda like an unspoken betrayal, so no: she wouldn't. still groggy with sleep and emerged from her room, palms knead her eyes in an attempt to further wake herself up. a pick-me-up was so needed and she moves, a young woman with purpose, only to pause when:
she sees that familiar dark haired mop of spikes. fushiguro, he'd been there when itadori had ... they both felt his loss, were kindred in that. isn't it tragicomic how history repeats itself? fushiguro's more visibly shaken up about it than she is and she doesn't blame him. after all, he witnessed the ordeal and it'd been the first time he'd lost a classmate in the way he did. the way they both did.
“ i'm ... okay, but jeez, you look like you haven't slept a wink. wanna go get coffee with me? it'll be my treat just this one time. ”
@kusattainu⠀웃⠀plotted starter!
when she was sent over the school uniform she'd be wearing as a student at tokyo prefectural,⠀cementing that she'd be leaving the lush green for miles that'd a younger her had grown so sick of seeing⠀(⠀she deserved to see more than the same village faces,⠀their condescending ways a thorn in her side⠀),⠀her grandmother allowed her to go shopping in shinjuku as a dual treat and apology.⠀wary of the upper echelons,⠀the big dogs in jujutsu society,⠀she'd initially hidden the letter of recommendation from nobara:⠀under the impression that what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her⠀(⠀hoping that one day she would come to understand why the village functioned the way it did,⠀why the villagers were the way they were,⠀how tradition kept them on the fringes,⠀yes,⠀but ultimately safe⠀)⠀and she hoped and prayed to any ancestor that'd hear her out that this was the best course of action to take to protect her granddaughter.
[⠀...⠀]
but nobara was too much like her obasan, ⠀too headstrong and not easily swayed by the opinions of others,⠀nor petty tricks, ⠀a near perfect reflection.⠀a reminder of how her elder acted in her bygone youth.⠀in brash teenaged excitement does she done one of many carbon copies of her official school uniform,⠀double-checking herself and how she looks in the mirror,⠀a hand's nimble fingers carding through recently dyed tresses.⠀gloss-slicked lips upturn into a triumphant smile as once brown eyes⠀(⠀man,⠀these contacts sure stung while being put in!⠀)⠀twinkle with the promise of keeping their shine:⠀no matter the glitz and glamour of the city proper.⠀ nobara wouldn't be so easily sucked into assimilation,⠀not like how so many who moved away did⠀—⠀her sights were set more internally,⠀her mind's eye always more so focused on the appearance and being of self,⠀overall.
the tohoku shinkansen makes quick work of bridging the distance between nobara and her destination:⠀mylord,⠀a shopping mall in shinjuku with a knack for attracting young shoppers much like herself.⠀the ride is relaxing enough to where she's soon lulled to near-sleep by the steady rock of it,⠀exacerbated by the early 2000s' j-pop playing through her headphones.⠀soon enough,⠀this would be her life⠀—⠀living it up,⠀sticking it to city curses⠀(⠀'⠀they can't be so tough,⠀'⠀she surmises⠀),⠀showing the higher-ups not to underestimate the likes of countryside sorcerers⠀—⠀and oh,⠀what a life it'll be!
to say that kugisaki nobara was excited for this new development in her life,⠀wherein independence would be wholly in her grasp after being watered so delicately by her grandmother:⠀her roots⠀(⠀her potential as a jujutsushi carefully cultivated into what it was⠀)⠀finally growing after a period of stagnation,⠀brought forth by the somewhat unfavorable⠀(⠀until she got sick of village life⠀)⠀conditions she found herself in,⠀was an understatement.⠀finally,⠀she was allowed to blossom on her own terms and she wanted to keep it that way.
it happens in a blur:⠀her unboarding,⠀briskly leaving the train station with the trusty help of her dated smartphone's GPS⠀(⠀really,⠀she couldn't wait to invest in a new one, this one's camera quality sucks!⠀), staring a bit doe-eyed and marveling a bit at her sight of the city's ward, people bustling around her, before moving on to the mall:⠀she wasn't in tohoku anymore.⠀soon enough,⠀shopping bags weigh a bit heavily on her arms⠀(⠀where was a boyfriend when you needed one???⠀)⠀and what's in them is any other teenaged girl's correct guess.
she doesn't feel like the odd one out here.
it was deliberate,⠀her choosing to stick out like a sore thumb.⠀when she dyed her hair,⠀the villagers,⠀who long held her grandmother in high regard,⠀stared at nobara like she sort of grew an extra head or two.⠀trading her lush natural brown hue for a seemingly eccentric shade of ginger:⠀the outgoingly spirited young girl,⠀with the ancestrally wise obasan,⠀seemed astute in the choice that conformity in regards to long-held village customs and ways of living was something she'd hold an aversion to.⠀always.
perhaps,⠀this was her rebelling and lashing out against the bulldozing of saori's home years prior after she'd left,⠀having been ostracized and run out by their stupid views on outsiders.⠀nobara had been devastated and enraged by this,⠀but she was a growing and in-training jujutsushi:⠀she'd have to settle for pouting,⠀angrily scribbling in her diary,⠀and keeping her emotions on a regulated leash⠀—⠀lest cursed spirits would fester near.
she was never the odd one out.
just set apart,⠀consecrated by her bloodline's inheritance of their technique,⠀by her status as a jujutsushi.⠀to non-jujutsushi others she was the outlier,⠀but who gave a damn about what they thought?⠀she wears her pride in her heritage,⠀in what's been passed down,⠀overtly.⠀it's an integral part of her:⠀makes up a big chunk of who she is.⠀it helps that her new school uniform grounds her in a way that exacerbates that pride.⠀it's a good fit on her and it isn't gaudy.
any other,⠀regular-degular non-jujutsushi human looking at her would assume she attends a private school⠀(⠀they aren't wrong in a sense⠀).⠀to them,⠀city folk:⠀she'd perhaps just be another country girl who got fed up of seeing rolling plains of green,⠀the lack of opulence to be seen there instead of here,⠀a budding assimilationist who'd readily toss herself to the wind because she'd become enamored with skyscrapers and convenience of walkability.
they had her pegged wrong.⠀
to the trained eye,⠀to another jujutsushi,⠀it'd be wholly evident that she's wearing a personally custom-made uniform because she'd be soon to be set to attend only one-of-two jujutsu educational institutions as a student.⠀she's all smiles as she walks into the nearest konbini,⠀shopping majorly over,⠀it was time to stock up on her personal stash of snacks before sightseeing and eventually heading back home to tohoku.⠀tokyo would see her again,⠀soon enough.⠀it's with a pep in her step that she flounces up to the cash register,⠀yen in hand,⠀dumping her allotted treats and flashing a friendly smile at the person working the register today.⠀
a keen eye catch their name-tag and gaze soon zooms in on their face.⠀she was much like her obasan,⠀too much,⠀one would argue:⠀astute to a trained degree.⠀
jujutsushi knew their own.⠀she looks around,⠀they're the only two in the konbini.⠀good,⠀she feels less scandalized when she takes back her bagged goods from them,⠀leaning in she asks:⠀“⠀ne,⠀suiren!⠀you wouldn't happen to be a fellow jujutsushi,⠀would you?⠀”⠀
“You’re dripping.” Plastic cries as Saihara wastes no time in sitting down, a weak effort to try and lift a second leg under the table that falls flat. Clothes stick to his frame, sweat drops down onto the table, and it takes the detective a moment to actually respond to his classmate. “Yeah. I know.” The towel is rubbed against his forehead after his words. A pause for Hoshi to push a bookmark (a gift from Saihara, one he cares for deeper than he should) into his read and set it aside, a barely hidden smirk as he reaches into the gym bag at his side and hands over a water bottle. “You exercise in dress pants regularly? They don’t breathe well, you know. Though, considering you exercise with Momota in the middle of the night, maybe I’m the weird one for thinking you’d wear normal clothes for this sort of thing.” Mossy eyes roll at him in exchange, and Hoshi lets out a small laugh. A pause from cracking open the water bottle. Cheap plastic is much different than what the detective is used to, but matters little while recovering from a mile run. "Come now, even Harukawa doesn’t make fun of me this much.” Though his tone is much more happy than annoyed. The water is so refreshing after everything. Akin to a heaven, even. Hands reach for the open book on the table- staining the pages with sweat fast. “I mean it in light jest. Promise.” The air brushes against his ears, reprieve from the heat bearing down onto his skin. An eyelid raises at the sight before him, reaching for a sandwich to keep himself busy. "Don't drip onto the books. I have to return those to the library you know." “I promise not to soak them through.” A hand presses against his chest before Saihara’s face quickly turns to a grimace and wipes it off onto his pant leg. “Any suggestions for this?” “Your towel, preferably. Though from the looks of it, you’ve practically soaked the poor thing already.” “Well aren’t you cheeky today.” Taking the towel off his neck, a smirk forms onto his face. Hoshi’s happiness was a sight always to cherish, even if it was at his expense. That laugh warms his heart more than any run could- burned his muscles less too. “How do you stay so dry anyways?” Another towel is slid over the table for the detective, a finger points to toss the wet one aside. “I’ve got years of training under my belt. Even while out of my prime, a mile’s almost nothing.” Besides, he’s had nearly fifteen minutes to dry off from the sun while waiting for Saihara anyways. But he didn’t need to know that. “That’s not too important though. Get some food in ya, it’s your turn to read, and I wanna hear your voice more.”
Saihoshi week 2021 Day 2: Training Together / Reading Together - Link here!