Like all things, having steamboat is Nobara's idea.
Granted, it's actually a good idea, considering that the recent summer days have been unseasonably chilly, the sky blanketed by storm clouds rolling in over the forest-covered hills. You have to give the weather merit – it had started raining the previous day, persisting through the night and into the morning and well into the evening.
You treat it as a normal day, with the added treat of steamboat waiting for you back at the dorm. Megumi and Inumaki are in charge of cooking, and you'd volunteered to acquire dessert – bought using Gojo's limitless credit card, of course. There's a spring in your step as you finish up the last of your chores in the infirmary, changing the bed linens and putting the old ones into the wash. You make one more pass around the room, until you're sure that it's spotless, before walking down the hallways and in the direction of Ieiri's office.
She isn't alone. You hear the low rumble of a man's voice, but it's not one you're familiar with. Quietly, you try to see who Ieiri has invited into her office.
"Nanami, did you take care of that Curse?"
"He escaped."
You move closer, daring to peek around the corner for a quick, brief second. You catch a glimpse of the man called Nanami – pale blonde hair, slicked back and away from his face, drawing attention to the chiselled look of his jaw and the strength of his chin. His shirt sleeves have been rolled up, and his every movement speaks volumes of his exhaustion.
"And the kid?"
"His injuries are minor, but I would appreciate it if you could give him a check-up."
"Of course."
"Can I help?" You ask Ieiri, moving out of the shadows of the doorway and into the room, which glows with a warm, buttery light as Ieiri activates her technique.
Ieiri doesn't seem surprised to see you. In fact, she nods, taking your appearance in stride. Nothing seems to faze her. "[ NAME ]. No, I'm just about done here. Why don't you take off? You have that date with your friends tonight, right?"
"I –" You cast a helpless look at Nanami, who seems to be watching you with a kind of dawning realisation. You wonder if you're staring at him in the same way – now that you're closer to him do you recognise the Cursed Energy clinging to him. It's imprinted into your skin, down to your very soul. You would know it anywhere. Your flesh pales and flourishes with gooseflesh. He fought that Curse. "Is something wrong? Do you need me?"
"No, we're fine. Everything's fine. You can leave."
"Okay."
More questions bug your racing mind, but it's clear that you've been dismissed, and your questions are unlikely to be answered. It stings. You shrug her off, marching out of the infirmary feeling like a kid at an adults-only party, unsure why they staunchly refuse to tell you what's going on. Secrets make you feel small and insignificant. There's a vibe in the room that you can't quite place. You grab your umbrella and walk away without glancing back.
You drop your soggy umbrella into the floor inside the front door of the dorms. It's the area called the "shoe graveyard", where everyone who comes in leaves their coats, shoes, and umbrellas.
You smell dinner already. As if on cue, your stomach rumbles. After towelling your hair dry, and changing into a dry set of clothes, you head to Nobara's room. The steamboat is already boiling, and fills the room with the delicious scent of soup and cooking rice. Inumaki waves at you when you enter, a gesture which lightens your heart considerably as you join them at the low wooden table.
A bowl of soup and rice are quickly handed your way, and you cradle the welcome warmth in rain-chilled fingers. For a while, everyone munches in companionable silence. There's peace in the room, a calm you haven't felt in a while. You realise with a shock that this is what happiness feels like.
Maki pops a meatball into her mouth, and makes a sound of contentment. "Mm. This is good. Who made these?"
"I did." Megumi looks up from his bowl. "I taught Inumaki-senpai how to make them too."
Your mind conjures up a surprisingly domestic image – Megumi and Inumaki, both of them clad in pink aprons, labouring over a bowl of minced meat and seasonings. You almost feel sad that you've missed seeing them in the kitchen.
"You can cook? Not really surprising, actually." Maki spoons more soup into her bowl.
"No. It was Itadori who taught me." For the briefest moment, Megumi's voice catches on Yuji's name. The thought of Megumi crying is ludicrous. He's always so strong, so sure of everything. Does he feel guilty? He shouldn't. It wasn't his fault.
You stare at the meatballs in your bowl anew. It's a pitiful sadness, reminding you of the early days of your grief, when you'd stared at your meals as though they were paste, like there was no point to eating. Deep in the pit of your stomach, something aches.
"Who wants dessert?" You ask instead, trying to cover up how your face splinters with emotion. You refuse to cry, to sully this beautiful night with your tears. You hold the burning back.
Inumaki notices though. He always does. His eyes are kind, almost gentle as he spears a meatball with his chopsticks and brings it to your lips. You put your hand on his wrist. It's tenuous, and it lasts only as long as it takes for you to swallow the bite of food. Maki's right. It's good. Then you clear your throat, trying again to lighten the mood.
"Sensei paid for dessert."
"Nice!" Nobara says, too quickly. Anything to fill in the silence, you think. "What'd you get?"
"Ice-cream. The fancy kind."
This time, Nobara's excitement seems genuine. "Nice!"
You've ordered about four tubs of the stuff. Vanilla, chocolate, strawberry cheesecake and earl grey lavender. Not to mention all the toppings – whipped cream, crushed oreos, gummy bears, sprinkles. It's enough to give anyone a sugar rush. You snap a picture with your phone, and send it to Gojo, who had declined joining you for dinner that evening.
He doesn't know what he's missing.
Immediately, your phone pings and vibrates incessantly. Complaints from Gojo, you're sure, and ones you're not willing to deal with immediately. Leaving him hanging, you shove your phone back into your pocket, smiling wryly and returning to your bowl. You've mixed the earl grey lavender and strawberry cheesecake together, topping it off with a generous amount of whipped cream, and as you stick your spoon into your mouth, you notice Inumaki staring at you.
"Want some?" You ask.
Inumaki stares at you and your proffered spoon doubtfully. His eyes are that familiar peaceful shade of blue, but now, you can detect the underlying disgust in them. You find yourself laughing, a bright burst of giggles spilling from your lips.
You hold the spoon out, pressing it close to his mouth, gently urging him to taste. "Try it. They taste good together."
Inumaki leans in for the bite, just as a piece of the strawberry cheesecake ice cream falls onto his chin. Instinctively, you reach out to stop it, sliding it back to his mouth. His tongue darts out – you catch a brief glimpse of the black spirals tattooed onto the flesh – right before he licks the stickiness off your fingers.
Oh.
Oh.
A giddy rush of excitement blasts through your veins, leaving you light-headed and dizzy. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the silverware. Your cheeks are flushed, rosy and pink, and you can see your chest rising and falling as your breathing gradually inches into something more rapid and shallow.
"Told you it was good." You say, over your deepening blush and the hitch in your voice.
"Salmon." Inumaki says in agreement, and bends his head back down for another bite.
