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prelude: the dreamer
Nanami is haunted by the sea.
A haunting in the form of a dream. Flashing recurring images of bodies of water everywhere, following him whenever he sleeps.
The sea being a dream; a dream being a vision; a vision being a blur; a blur being a memory; a memory being a history; a history in which we all can return to--a cycle. Like waters continuously spurring from the river to the ocean. Ever constant, ever-present.
His consciousness, the stream of his thoughts and desires, drifts aimlessly on a small boat, taking his body along with it wherever it pleases.
There: he is not himself. He is only the dreamer.
Here: we follow along.
Down
down,
down, we go.
i. the ship
It often begins as soon as he closes his eyes, eyelids heavy and droopy, and ends with him jolting awake in the middle of the night feeling like his lungs are being filled with water. But sometimes, he would come back to this sobering reality ever so solemn and where he can only manage to tug on his blanket feeling colder than usual, hearing nothing but the loud silence of the night.
Much before that, it happens on dreary nights after he comes back to the college dorms—exhausted, worn out, and dirtied to the filth. His uniform, stained with more blood than grime—like red, eroding the fabric. And underneath, covered are a few broken bones and fresh tender bruises. The life of a shaman, you could call it, but to students of the Jujutsu Tech, this is merely the life of an adolescent teenager.
He wastes no time and discards everything in his room—his bag, his weapon, his clothes. He takes a long shower to try to wash away the dirt that sticks to his skin. Afterward, he changes into his pajamas. He falls safely into the bed, the softest place he’s ever known, feeling heavy against the pillowy cushion. He shifts and he turns to find a good, comfortable position to lay in, and not too long, he’s finally asleep.
On this night, he dreams of a ship and its wreckage.
He arrives at an empty beach that stretches along the coast as far as his sight can go. Where the horizon drinks up the ocean’s blue waters to meet up with the sky. Producing a gradient of many, many, hues. What lies beyond is unknown. The vastness of the island isn’t scarce.
There’s no sign of how he got there except for, he assumes, the large body of a vessel which is tilted downwards against sharp protruding rocks; half-sunken and half-still on the Western curve of the bay. Bits and pieces of broken wood, metal scrapes, and torn fabric wash ashore. Every time the waves crash, it chips away its wholeness, and further and further, it becomes unsalvageable.
The ship must’ve entered the eye of the storm and barely managed to get through. The sea can be quite unforgiving.
And one more damning thing, he’s not sure if he was the captain of the ship or just a passenger. If he was the captain, did he cause this ship to wreck? If he was the passenger, where is everybody else? Is he the lone survivor of the crash?
He’s not quite sure.
Nothing is ever clear on that beach anyway, but still, he feels restless. For the right reasons, of course. Who wouldn’t be? He’s stranded on a deserted island with no sign of help coming soon. It’s only him, the ship, and the wreckage.
At first, dream-Nanami picks up the puzzle-like parts of the ship and tries to reconstruct everything with only his hands. He scrambles trying to fit the incongruent remnants together, sticking uneven planks to make up for a whole. A semblance to what it used to be would do. He pictures his fist as the hammer slinging downwards to an imaginary nail. He goes at this again, and again, and again.
But what good would it do to try to save something that’s beyond repair? Wouldn’t it cost more than giving up, or maybe let’s say, finding something new instead. Because what is it other than denial, really.
There must be some way to be saved other than this futile, desperate attempt. There must be because something in his gut compels him that he needs to get off this island.
But before he can resign from his state of utter desperation, the landscape crumbles before him. He feels himself fading from the dream. Something is shaking on his shoulder, waking him up.
“Na-na-mi!” A cheery voice beams near his ear. “Goooood morning!” Maybe a little too close.
He made it back to land or he made it to the morning, you could say. It’s alright. He’s not stranded on an island. He’s in his bed. No ship, no wreckage, no picking up pieces, no desperation. It doesn’t matter if he was the captain or the passenger. Here, he is not the lone survivor.
He cups his body to make sure it's his. And just to make sure, he pinches himself and shudders in relief. There, the pain is sharp, it’s real, it’s fine.
The first thing he sees is Haibara’s face wearing a bright smile accompanied by a double thumbs up. He’s all dressed up for the day with his same old unbuttoned jacket and white shirt underneath. Nanami groans and turns around to ignore the lively presence. It’s too early for this.
“Eh, woke up on the wrong side of the bed?” says Haibara in a teasing voice. He giggled, knowing how it would get a rise out of Nanami.
Nanami covers his head over the large duvet and muffles out a—“Shut up. You woke me up. Why are you in my room anyway?”
“Okay, okay, sleepyhead. Sorry to wake you up but they called us again to go to a location where curses have been appearing in a small village. We have to be there...in, probably an hour.” He huffs under his breath. What a hassle.
Lately, they’ve been sent to more missions than they are sent to the classroom or to at least, given the time to train their techniques. A part of him rationalizes, reminding himself that the moment he enrolled there, he already carries the same responsibilities as a shaman would have even if he’s still a student. Every day his life is at risk. But at the same time, he only wishes he’d be able to enjoy his youth a little bit more. Where to? Though he’s unsure. He never really had time to think about the specifics. Where would a 16-year-old usually go these days to waste their time? Maybe go to an up-and-about cafe, go through their menu or maybe catch the latest movie or open up a fresh new book. Well, that’s what he would like to do but these times don’t really call for that anymore, do they? So he gives up the thought.
Sometimes, he feels like, for every cursed energy that is expelled from his body, it comes right back to him. Cursing him into a putrid life of age, of adulthood. Karmic retribution? Might as well be.
Nanami finally holds up his body, completely awake. He stretches his arms before getting out of the bed. He looks back at Haibara who’s only waiting on him. “In an hour? Okay, I’ll be quick.”
“Yosha! I’ll wait by the vending machines.” He claps and heads out of the room. Momentarily, he looks back—” Text me when you’re ready. See ya, Nanami!” and shuts the door.
It takes him only about 20 mins and less to get done. He meets with Haibara by the gates.
By the time he’s next to him, Nanami’s stomach rumbles loudly—like embarrassingly loud. Haibara laughs at him and grabs two packs of sealed bread from the vending machine in his pocket. “Ah, it’s not much but I’m sure this grade 2 mission won't last after lunch!” He receives it gracefully, “Thank you, Haibara. This will do.” before tearing the bag apart to eat.
Soon enough, they arrive at the scene and the villagers direct them to a closed-off rice field away from the center. It has been said that for months now, crops haven’t been growing, only on that specific plot of land. More so, a couple of stray pets who happen to cross the restricted area end up disappearing. People worry they’ve been eaten.
In his head, he deduces it as a small-time earth cursed spirit who’s known to soil the land that are common in rural areas. Nanami tells the local guide to head off and assures him that they can handle the problem. Once he departs, Haibara sets up a curtain to properly obscure their activities.
Shortly after, they spot a slime-like, almost shapeless figure of a curse with a discombobulated face looming over the entry pipes of irrigation. It’s directly stopping the water from flowing.
Nanami takes out his sword and makes his first approach. He concentrates the cursed energy in his hand to imbue his weapon with more strength. It glows with a fiery, electric blue—ready to exorcise the spirit.
Meanwhile, Haibara steps backward and readies himself for his jujutsu. He does so because it takes a couple of minutes to activate and it requires a lot of accumulated cursed energy. His technique involves producing white blobs of clay right out of his palms and turning them into human-like figures that he can freely control. The thing about it is that it’s made from his blood cells that rapidly reproduce themselves whenever he needs it to.
When it starts to resemble a small ball at the center of his hand, all he has to do is throw it from a distance and the white figures will appear. Just like extensions of himself—only faceless and emotionless. A mimicry of everything he can do, with the same strength and speed as he does. It’s purposely used for long-distance combat. With his current strength, he can produce up to four clones. However, the time limit for each clone is only about 15 minutes before it fades away or gets taken down by a stronger force. At the cost of great power, he expends himself a lot but knowing Haibara, he’s glad to be able to do his best.
By his estimate, Haibara only takes out one of his clones and walks near the pipeline, beside Nanami. He commands it to pull the curse’s body and smash it. In its hands, it disintegrates.
Nanami takes one harsh slash at the curse’s weak point. Marking it gone from terrorizing the land. His technique is as refined and efficient as ever. He takes a sigh of relief. The mission went better than expected. He looks at Haibara, also done with his part, leaning on his white clone, waiting on him. “You okay?”
“Yup, yup!” He affirms with a high-pitched voice. “Nanami, we should go to that restaurant in downtown Tokyo after this. Gojo-senpai said they make the best katsudon.” He sulks, rubbing on his stomach. “Aah, I made myself think about it, now, I’m even hungrier!” Oh, he relies on his nourishment for additional energy that it takes him on missions. Nanami agrees.
But right before they pack up and leave, the earth below starts to rumble and a line begins to run in between, splitting the ground into two. It throws off their balance and they fall to the floor. A monstrous spirit going berserk emerges out of the brokenness amassing the entire field. Growing maybe tenfold and more of its initial size, its face even more distorted. It wreaks evil and viciousness. The curse’s presence seemed to have multiplied after they exorcised it. So overwhelming, it might just cause drought to the entire village. Perhaps, one of its conditions to rupture is for a shaman to attack it.
“Fuck. It’s a first grade, after all! This exceeds our capabilities, Yuu.” Nanami extends his arm to help Haibara stand. Still, he does his best to remain calm and further assess the situation. “We have to call back-up but first, we have to contain it inside this barrier at least.”
Haibara quickly lends out three more of his white clones to directly attack the curse. While they freely charge forward, it gives him spare time to dial the emergency number of the college for help while they move.
Nanami is quick to engage in close combat with the curse. It hits in all directions and even though they're not technically inside of a domain expansion, it feels like it; it gets its power from the land—sending tremors from below and throwing angled rocks that might as well be kunai knives. To avoid and send in an attack at the same time requires all the strength in him. The white clones follow him with Haibara behind. They climb through its body and rip its limbs apart but it continuously regenerates.
“We need to wear it down first before I can easily find its weak point. It’s way too fast to keep up with. Yuu, use your clones as the defense and you can just use your innate curse energy to strike it at the center. I’ll cut down as much of its arms before the final strike.” He instructs.
“Got it. Yosha! I’ll meet with your rhythm,” Nanami and Haibara have always worked together and all of their techniques are well coordinated with each other. They’ve built a mutual trust during missions that despite this proving to be one of the hardest they’ve been sent to, they’ll succeed otherwise. All because of that trust in each other and their capabilities. Kento knew that the most.
Their teamwork is flawless. Haibara cuts through its stomach while maintaining distance with the help of his doubles. Nanami slows down its regeneration. On a normal day, this would’ve been a day’s work. But despite every action they try, none of it seems to be enough. At some point, they begin reaching their limits.
“Nanami! I think my clones are going to disappear any minute now. We need to deliver the blow soon. ” Haibara shouts from the other side.
He struggles to respond as he, too, is preoccupied. He begins to run out of breath and drops his weapon, resorting to his raw energy. He finishes off with a collapsing hit to the ground to trap the curse down.
He approached Haibara’s corner. His clones have disappeared and he’s left to use his innate energy. Dagger-like rocks impale on his side without a defense. His left cheek and neck are deep cuts open, the skin removed revealing the flesh with blood gushing out. He, too, has exhausted himself but still, he continues to move.
Haibara catches him heading his way. Nanami proceeds straight ahead.
They pause briefly gazing at each other where the world is nothing but static noise. Something like slow motion.
Haibara smiles at him in the middle of the battlefield. “You’ve got it from here. ” He says, looking over at him, before giving his last blow to the heart of the curse. He successfully creates an opening with this.
The words click inside of Kento’s head. This is the time to use it. This is his one last chance to do it right.
Before Nanami can yield the black flash, his wild card, a massive rock falls on Haibara’s lower body, incapacitating him. He was too weakened to move away. “Haibara!” He cries. Getting major injuries wasn’t part of the plan. He wants to run beside him and escape and let stronger sorcerers handle it. They shouldn’t be here, alone.
But he can’t let the opportunity Yuu gave him to deliver the black flash. So instead, he walks to the curse’s weakest point, vision blurry and hands shaky, it takes everything in him. I’ll come back and save you, Haibara. I will end this. He wants to say but nothing comes out.
He delivers one punch that drastically weakens the enemy. By then, Nanami enters a state of overwhelming power where he feels the gravity of the Earth is centered around him. Right now, only for a moment, he feels invincible. He doesn’t let it slip, uses it to his advantage. Another fatal hit and another one, and at last, the massive final blow.
He successfully used 4 black flashes consecutively—possibly breaking the record for all shamans.
The curse vanishes out of thin air. It’s done. They exorcised the behemoth of a curse in the land. The water begins to flow again and maybe, soon enough, the crops will grow again. The people of the village will be happy.
But he has no time to relish it and immediately goes to Haibara’s aid. The large boulder is gone too but it didn’t reverse what the impact caused. He sees a body cut in half and pools of blood everywhere.
“No, no, no. Hold on. Shit. No, Yuu , we’ll get you to Shoko-san and bring you back together. O-okay? She’ll figure something out.” He curses as he tries to attach the lower body to its torso. He’s unsure of what it’ll do but he tries.
The same restlessness returns. There must be some way to save him other than this futile, desperate attempt. He needs to save Haibara.
I need to save him. He’s my best friend. I need to. I don’t know what I’ll do if I return without him . The lump on his throat builds up and stays there.
Haibara, on his last breath, cracks a soft smile. Something like earlier. You can see the light leaving his eyes within those lines. With his weak hand, he holds on to Nanami like repeating his last words only with touch. This time he says, You’ve got it from here, from the slight brush of his thumb over Kento’s palm.
He doesn’t last long. He dies in Nanami’s warmth.
Back-up arrives. Well, too late for that.
Nanami Kento was only 16 years old when he first learned how heavy and cold it is to carry a dead body with his bare hands.
ii. the birds
The second time it happened, he wasn’t in his bed. It happened with his head propped against the glass window of a moving vehicle.
It was late in the afternoon when he dreamt of birds. Of birds flying away and he had been the one looking up.
There, he finds himself yet again, on a beach with nobody but him. Maybe, it’s the same as before but there’s no sign of any shipwreck around, so maybe it’s not. Anyway, he barely remembers much from that dream. Everything is half-remembered at this point now. Who’s to tell what his dreams have been telling him?
He raises his head even upwards and sees a flock of birds originating from the Northern hemisphere flying Southbound. Their silhouettes are as dark as black ink that from a distance, it makes them look like dots moving across the sky.
A feeling of calm resonates within him from watching them fly up above. They look so free, untethered to the land, and unburdened by gravity. He envies the birds for their sovereignty over the sky. There is no greater power than being free, Nanami thinks. He can only wish the same for himself.
As he stands there, with the sun beaming over his face, he sees a shadow of a bird coming down upon him. The closer it gets to his height, the sound of its wings flapping becomes ever-present. It makes no other sound than that. He realizes it's a raven. Their feathers, the color of ebony, silken and smooth. Surprised, he takes a step back. The raven only approaches him further. He’s unsure what it’ll do with him but he doesn’t run.
A friend or a foe? He wants to know. He stares into its round eyes and it returns the gaze, slightly tilting its head in many different directions. It surprisingly feels kind. He reaches out his arm for the raven to perch on.
This one’s a friendly presence, he decides.
Looking over its body, on its left wing, he sees the exposed flesh that’s hidden underneath the black feathers with an open wound. It looks like something similar to a bullet of a hunter strayed past him, almost killing him. He imagines the pain it’s been through, leaving a permanent scar on it. By the looks of it, it must’ve been a while since the injury looks like it’s almost healed. It doesn’t hinder him from flying anymore.
Nanami acquaints himself with the raven. For a while, it stays beside him, until it isn’t. With the last of the flock of birds is almost gone, the raven follows after them. He bids goodbye to his newfound friend and wishes it good luck with its travels.
As it flies away, a feather falls on the ground. He picks it up and decides to keep it with him.
Nanami hits his head so hard on the glass window when the car passes by a pothole, it makes a loud thump. Ow. He massages over the part that he bumped for soothing. He didn’t even remember falling asleep on the way but then again, he doesn’t even remember the last time he had a good sleep.
It’s only been a week since Haibara’s passing on that unfated mission. To him, it had felt like years, decades even.
He remembers everything. The feeling of the warmth being replaced by the cold; the weight of it all; the way back; the smell of the morgue; all of it. It didn’t leave him and he’s beginning to take the hint it won’t ever leave. It’ll just devolve into an even uglier feeling sinking deep into his body forming a rot inside his bones.
“Kento-kun, are you alright?” A voice beside him speaks.
He sighs and looks over, “I’m alright, Suguru-san.”
“You sure? Because…” Getou trails.
“Just a little tired, Suguru-san. That’s all.” He should say the same thing to Getou. From the last time, Nanami has seen him since he has looked more different, the circles under his eyes getting darker and his hair becoming more unkempt. He decided not to tell.
Getou only scoffs and shifts his head to his window-side. The rest of the ride sat through in silence.
A few moments later, the car pulls up outside a small house in the suburban area near the Tokyo center. They step out of the car and the hiragana of the Haibara name reads on the gate walls. Nanami brushes off the dust on his black suit and fixes himself. “You ready?” Suguru asks.
Suddenly, he feels frozen. The shame of not being able to save his best friend creeps upon him again. He’s afraid to face the family whom Yuu has left behind. He’s forced to confront the guilt. Still, he wants to pay his respects because out of all the people in the Jujutsu Tech, Haibara was the one he respects and adores the most.
Getou grabs his shoulder, “It’ll be okay,” he smiles, assuring him. “C’mon. Let’s go inside.”
At the entrance, they are welcomed by relatives of the deceased. Two women wearing a black kimono solemnly greet everyone who comes in. He assumes it’s Yuu’s mother and sister. Suguru takes out an envelope containing the donation from the college and generously hands it to the two.
“My condolences to your family. Haibara was a dear kouhai of mine. Nanami, here, was his classmate.” Getou does all the talking while he is silent, unable to speak.
The mother looks over at him. He bows. “My condolences.” Those were the only words he could manage for now.
“Were you the one who saved him and remained by his side until the very end?” She asks, on the verge of tears.
That moment, he was prepared to be berated and get screamed at. To be blamed for the death of Haibara. To be pointed at. Because that’s what his head has been telling him. No, I did not save him because if I did, he wouldn’t be dead. I stayed because I don’t know where I’ll be otherwise. Nanami wanted to say. Instead, he only lowers his head, hiding his face.
Suddenly, he was wrapped inside a mother’s embrace. It’s so warm he feels like melting the frozen catatonic state he’s been in since he got here.
He responds late and eventually returns the hug. “T-thank you for taking care of him.” Haibara’s mother says to him in between sobs. “Thank you…” She repeats.
When she finally lets go of the hug, she wipes her tears. “Yuu was my best friend. He was one of the kindest and most trusting people I knew.” He reaches out for her hand. “No, thank you for raising him.” He smiles gently.
They spoke for a couple more minutes, exchanging stories about how Haibara was when he was in school. He would say, Haibara liked going to the park and having picnics especially during the first day of spring. His mother meekly laughs, Oh, that’s my Yuu alright. He loves packing bento boxes for everyone here.
Their conversations somehow lighten up the mood.
She was the first one to excuse herself to greet other visitors. Haibara’s sister who was silent the whole time called him before he left to take a seat. “N-Nanami-san, uhh..here,” She hands him a white lily.
“What’s this?”
“You’re grieving, too. Here, you take this.” She bows and returns to her mother’s side.
Getou, observing the entirety of the encounter, asked him, “You okay?” for the second time today. He could only nod while holding the flower in his hand, keeping it close.
They looked for the spot to sit in to watch the funeral rites take place. The smell of incense smoldering across the room. At the center, he can see Haibara’s coffin adorned with many, many flowers—chrysanthemums, orchids, roses, lilies, carnations, and others—and a photo of him smiling. It was the expression he wore the most often.
Just by looking at it, it brings him so much anguish. To attend the funeral of someone who was just there a week ago in his room, waking him up, telling the same old jokes, all prepared to go on a mission, not knowing it was going to be his last, fighting alongside him. They even had plans for the future that day. He could only think about how little lives they lived. How it could be quickly gone the next moment.
Right then and there, Nanami, for the first time, considers the thought of leaving. It has never really occurred to him that...maybe it would be easier to simply walk away from the life he initially thought was suited for him. Look, he wanted to keep helping people. To try alone is already an honorable way to live, how much more would it be to do your best? But where does the line between saving people and sacrificing yourself draw itself? How many more friends will he have to bury? How many more of these will he have to attend?
So, on the day after his graduation a year later, Nanami Kento finally decides to leave the world of curses. He runs as far away as possible from all this and promises himself not to look back because there’s nothing to look back to anyway.
iii. the sand
He wants to convince himself that he’s gone far enough to never want to come back.
There would be moments in your life when you become so unsure about your place in the world and end up losing your way. So lost that you run to the nearest place that can shelter you. A roof above your head where you can keep your calm and maybe, in the meantime, you can stay there while you figure out the next place you can go to. You treat this as your only solace. To you, to have that cover is enough and you don’t even notice the shaky ground beneath you. So unsteady that at any moment, it will collapse onto itself and drag you down into endless darkness where you keep falling, and falling, and falling. But that’s alright, you’d rather have this. You can always just lookup. Plus, you already practiced being careful, maybe even mastered it, and you lived a life of compromise. You trained for this, you got this . You say to yourself. You watch your footing, you pull the weight of your body, you steady your breaths, and you ignore the shakiness of the ground you stand upon.
That early morning, Nanami dreams of a dark pit of sand swallowing him whole. Of drowning on land even before you get into the water.
While images of summer days concur with brightness and fresh breeze, he is confronted with a grim and dark atmosphere of emptiness. But it doesn’t scare him. Whenever his dreams bring him to the beach, he always has the urge to dip his feet into the water. The waves’ color reflects the sky; a grey so dark it's devoid of any blue. When he tries to come into the shoreline, the tides back away—unwelcoming. Like the sea emptying itself.
In the dream, a small voice calls for him —” Nanami!”— so distant it feels like an echo. He moved his head in search of where it’s from. He’s almost sure it’s from someone he recognizes but there, he doesn’t know where or who it’s from. Is it someone who is in need of saving, too? It’s so desolate it makes him desperate to reach. His body moves on its own and follows the trail of the sound. Slow steps first then he begins to run farther away in hopes he’ll escape this hellish landscape.
The ground feels unsteady turning liquid, wobbly like a puddle of tar. As he moves closer, the sand inhibits his will and sinks him in. A tight grip of hands climbing up his legs pulling him in. It’s greedy for a body to take. It swallows him whole. His limbs being twisted and removed from him. Attempts to escape feels futile because everything restricts him and only leads him down, down, down. He feels like drowning before the water. Airways closing in on his chest, so suffocating, he can’t breathe and—
The reclining chair pushes him forward, he falls face on his desk full of folders and papers scattered around. He is shockingly awake. Nanami rubs on his temples and stretches back. He probably strained his back from the uncomfortable position he woke up in. It looks like he accidentally fell asleep while doing overtime. He checks the clock— 6:45 am— almost 24hrs in the office. That’s a new record. He’s never been more tired since…
The same old weariness settles in his bones. Is this the life of adulthood he pictured?
Nanami files the mess he made into a proper stack and clears the table. He puts on his coat and briefcase. With finality, he exits the small corner of the room where he spent his years of hiding away. This is the last time he’ll punch out his id and press the buttons of the elevator. I won’t miss any of this, he thinks to himself.
But there’s one more thing he needs to do. He makes a stop by the bakery nearby the building, the one he’s been seen frequently in.
“Good Morning!” The baker welcomes him at the sound of the bell. “Oh, you look like you’ve been through hell.”
The first thing he sees is a fly head curse latching onto the girl’s shoulder like it’s some pet. “How about you? You look worn down.”
“Ah,” She rotates her shoulder to point to the pain. The curse doesn’t budge. “This part feels so heavy, I couldn’t sleep so well.” She places the baguette on the counter and freshly wraps it in a bag. It’s still hot and fresh from the oven.
Nanami takes out his wallet and pays for the bread. “My job as a salaryman is to make rich people richer. With that money, they become even more untouchable. In return, they give me a large sum, larger than most jobs can give, actually. Their money gives them comfortable lives.” He begins, voice monotonous. “I think their greed has been infectious. I'm starting to think about money more and more. You can go anywhere with it. That's all you need right now in this world. It wouldn’t even matter if I just disappear with all the money I earned, nobody would miss me. Those tycoons could just replace me.”
The baker makes a confused face. “Eh. Are you bragging?”
“No. But when this small bakery is gone, people who love bread will miss it. I just think it’s silly and ironic to be so small and yet, still feel completely bigger than ourselves. Don’t you think so?” He continues.
A pause, trying to comprehend what she just heard. “I’m sorry. I don’t quite understand.” She shakes her head, laughing it off.
Nanami gathers cursed energy in his right arm. He asks her, “Could you come forward just a little?”
As soon as she does, he extends his arm and slashes straight ahead. The curse vanishes. “How does it feel?”
“Oh! The aching feeling is gone.” She exclaims.
He picks up his bread, “I should get going now. Go to a doctor if it persists to hurt,” then turns around to leave.
“H-hold on! Thank you! Please come again!” She followed after him outside, he continued to walk away.
Unbeknownst, he was smiling to himself. He felt better too.
After years of working as a salaryman, Nanami Kento, on this day, calls Gojo Satoru telling him of a change of heart, a return, a homecoming to becoming a full-time shaman once more. He can feel his sense of purpose regain itself, feeling a little less foolish. The ground feels steady again.
iv. the lighthouse and the sailor
How would you know if a storm is coming your way if, in the morning of your departure, the skies opened with the clearest blue you’ve never seen before with the fog vanishing into the light?
Sometimes, people say that dreams can act like premonitions, telling you that something bad might happen after you wake up.
Nanami didn’t know that yet. Not before Shibuya.
The night before the siege, he dreamt of a lighthouse and a sailor caught in a storm.
It was one of the strangest dreams he had so far. First, he was the lighthouse built near the most dangerous waters. A tall, towering presence standing at the edge of the coastline sending a beacon of light on nights of darkness to ships at sea guiding them back to the harbor.
He can see everything from up there; the violent waves, the leveling of the tides, the birds flying away, the clouds moving. Almost as if, he had been given the all-seeing eye of the lighthouse.
Inconsequential to this gift, he was also the first one who saw the storm forming before him. He sees a ship with its sailor maneuvering in all different directions to traverse away from the shore from the distance. Immediately, he sounded all the signals and barraged the strongest light wishing him safety. Thus, there is nothing else he can do other than that.
Suddenly, his purview shifted. He was now the sailor holding onto his tiller for dear life. It chucks a visceral feeling. Water rising up and down. Fighting against the rages of the sea. The wind punched holes in his sail, losing its control over the gale. The ship proved to be uncontrollable in the face of calamity.
Ahead of him, the glare of the lighthouse reaches him. Bright and burning. Telling him, come back, come back to me. Come home to me.
Who was he supposed to be?
He woke up feeling a lightness being breathed in and out of his lungs removing the bleakness that resides there. Kento went on about his day; had his breakfast, slipped in a drink or two, drove to the college, discussed the route and blockades amongst the sorcerers. Though it may appear to be a perilous mission, nothing felt disturbingly dark. Of course, he dreaded it but it was the same feeling he had for all of his missions.
When they were dispersed into their positions, Gojo met up with him for a second.
“I’m really glad you’re back, Nanami,” Satoru said, in a gentle and honest tone.
“I know. You’ve already said that a thousand times since.”
Gojo chuckled and put his hands in his pocket like a boy. “Yeah, because I mean it. Yuuji is too, by the way. So thankful.” He rambles on. “And Megumi even if he doesn’t show it. We really don’t know what I'll— we’ll do without you.”
“Satoru, I know.” Nanami smiled softly. “So I guess, I’ll see you after this. You better come back to this very place.”
“Of course. You don't have to worry about that. I’m the strongest, after all.” He responded, grinning.
Nanami shook his head at the remark but still, smiling not even trying to hide it. “Yeah, you are.”
They bid their goodbyes.
On October 31, 2018, Nanami Kento entered through the storm of Shibuya and exits far beyond where the words come back can never reach him.
epilogue: the sea
He does not dream of anything anymore, he only wakes up.
The smell of saltwater air sinking into his skin. The sound of the trees rustling. The returning of the waves. The tactile roughness of the sand. The echo of birds flying away. The rise and fall of his chest. Just like always, he’s at a beach but this time, he’s not alone.
A familiar face greets him. “Nanami!”
In most dreams, you are the lost, the wanderer, but here, for the first time, in this place, he is found.
“Haibara…” He trembled, trembled for the insurmountable longing he had felt over the years since he last saw him. And there he was, hand outstretched, still the same curve of the palm and tenderness within, reaching out to him, after everything.
“I missed you.”
Is it really you? Have you been waiting this whole time here, in such waters?
He takes it. Just as he’s always done before. This time it feels warm.
They spent the entire day playing and running around the beach, morning or afternoon, he’s not sure. Time seems to have no essence here. Haibara invites him to come into the water for a swim and fully experience the great Southern sun.
He followed after though he paused where the tides meet with the shore. Standing at the edge of the sea, staring at its stillness. Nanami doesn’t remember being afraid of the water, not when it’s this calm. There’s something strange about it with the mist lifted; how still-clear and pristine it is, almost holy.
And as he stands there, his entire life will flash before him. It will show him his years of sadness and grievances, all those hiding and trying, and, as he watches, he will ask, have I done enough? The ocean will answer back, you’ve done more than enough. He will see the moments that made him the happiest, his highlights, him in his best. He will learn how he looked like to other people: reliable, kind, generous, honest, and loving and that’s how he will be remembered. And he will see how compared to this, all those years have only been a single drop to the ocean. Though, it doesn’t matter because he has made a thousand ripples in other people’s lives. He knows that, now. He finds peace in this.
After all, the water only reflects our innermost selves. It only contains truths.
“What’s wrong?” Haibara queried while moving around and floating in the water.
“Nothing. I’m just glad to be here with you. You have no idea how long I’ve dreamt about this.”
Alas, he surrendered himself to the water. Dipping his toes in first, swimming deeper and deeper into the sea for as far as he can reach. When he had his body submerged deep enough, he curled his limbs back and bent his body down, floating. He allowed it to drown all of his sorrows—to cleanse him, to heal him, to sanctify him. He let it wash it all away. He can feel the dull ache relieving itself from his skin and bones.
There: Nanami Kento was born into something new.
"For all at last return to the sea—to Oceanus, the ocean river, like the ever-flowing stream of time, the beginning and the end."
The Sea Around Us, Rachel Carson