He stared at you with that knowing look. That new everything. That new more than you did. You would take offense, crossing your arms in a tough pose to escape the unbearable eye contact.

Nanami always did that, it seemed like it was on purpose. Perhaps it wasn't at first, but after so many jabs at each other, a subtle provocation amused him. The thing is — you hate him. How his voice always cuts out when you speak, even though he's polite to everyone else. How easily he handles a curse, even though you're capable of handling it too. The subtle dimples that form on his face when he manages a smile. Rolls your eyes whenever smells him, even when he's not around.

And hated it even more when you were forced to work alongside him. Not because someone told yo to, no. That's kind of absurd. Simply professionalism. And maybe a little ego.

In meetings, you would kick him lightly with the heels of your regularly worn leather boots. He would retaliate with a light nudge on the shin, the whole thing happening under the table. In a way it was intriguing, since most Jujutsu committee meetings were about bureaucracy and the massive exposure that curses have been enjoying in recent years. Normal.

— ` . —

The frigid air cut through the night in an uncomfortable, freezing breeze. Your bones felt like marshmallows, containing a latent pain from the cold that penetrated beneath warm clothes. Your breath condensed against the wind on her face, lips pink from the cold. Hands buried in the fur coat that covered the Jujutsu sorcerer's uniform.

He was late, incongruent. It wasn't like him; he didn't like working overtime. But still, the facts didn't match the evidence. He was, in fact, late. Ten minutes, to be exact. In ten minutes the world could have ended, you reflected. Alongside this reflection, you also concluded that could already be enjoying a hot bath if the assigned work had already been complete (Probably not, but it was better to think so. That idiot had to be guilty).

Before another incredible thought could arise, the sharp tone emerged from the corner of Jujutsu Tech's exit. Nanami wore the same clothes as always, but with a beige coat that made it annoyingly clean and elegant. Different glasses than usual — normal ones. With normal lenses. He looked like Superman, but blonde.

He approached with that same illegible expression, greeting her with a simple nod. He opened the passenger door for you, still with that cutting silence. It was infuriating to see him playing the good guy.