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“Hazama, I’m home!” Kurahashi yells as soon as she steps foot in their little apartment.
“Kitchen,” Hazama calls back.
Kurahashi hastily peels off her shoes and ditches her bag. She moves quickly into the kitchen and wraps her arms around Hazama, who’s stirring something in a large pot.
“What’re you making, love?” she coos.
“I’m going to curse the shitty train station guy.”
“Oh, are you?” Kurahashi smiles. “What will happen to him?”
“We’ll see,” Hazama replies, ditching the stirring in favor of chopping a foreign dried plant. Kurahashi watches as Hazama minces the dusty green foliage and dumps it into the pot.
“What plant was that?” she asks.
“Let go of me and I’ll tell you.”
Kurahashi sighs, but releases her. She drops down into a chair and sighs. “Now will you tell me?”
“Wolfsbane. I had Bitch-sensei bring it back from her trip.”
“We should visit Bitch-sensei again,” Kurahashi says thoughtfully. “And of course, Karasuma!! Oh, I miss-”
“I don’t want to hear about how hot Karasuma is,” Hazama snaps.
“Hazama,” Kurahashi says, laughing. “They’re getting married in two months. We have the invitation. Sugaya did a fantastic job designing it, didn’t he?”
“Still.”
“Aww, don’t worry. You’re the only one for me,” Kurahashi coos, standing up and pulling Hazama into her arms again. “I wouldn’t trade you for anyone, not even Karasuma.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Hazama replies.
The kitchen falls silent as Hazama continues her witchcraft, Kurahashi stubbornly clinging to her girlfriend (Hazama has learned to move with Kurahashi holding onto her. Secretly, Kurahashi is impressed.).
“Hey, Kurahashi,” Hazama says suddenly, breaking the quiet. She turns around with a glass jar filled with what appears to be chartreuse goo. “Can you feel this?”
Kurahashi frowns. “What?”
“Can you feel it? Just put your finger in,” Hazama explains, still holding out the jar. “Nothing bad will happen.”
Kurahashi sighs and stabs it. Her finger sinks into the gel.
“It’s warm. Also, sticky.”
“Good,” Hazama replies, pulling the jar away and beginning the search for a lid. “I was thinking I’d stick it in his bag and let it break.”
Kurahashi studies at the goo clinging to her finger. “Do it.” She pauses, then holds out the encrusted finger to Hazama. “Can you feel this?”
Hazama cautiously touches the slime. “It dries fast,” she murmurs. “Have fun removing it.”
“HAZAMA!”
The corners of her mouth twitch slightly. “It shouldn’t be that long. Hurry up though, Muramatsu brought over ramen for dinner.”