Chapter Text
Nobara huffs a sigh as she stares at her reflection, letting the hair twisted around her fingers slowly come undone as she lowers her hands. Her arms are getting tired.
She blinks slowly, watching as only one brown eye fully closes, the other nothing more than clouded white set in a pitted landscape of gnarled scar tissue.
It's disconcerting, still, to look in a mirror and try to reconcile with the fact that that's what she looks like now. What she'll look like forever.
Hands planting on the cool stone of the sink countertop, she lets her gaze drop, hair brushing over her shoulders as she lets it fall forward. She's letting it grow out now, after… everything. Might as well try out a new look to go along with everything she can't control. Some might call it making the most of the situation. She calls it trying to get by.
She forces a deep breath, steadily holding it for a second before slowly exhaling in an attempt to soothe the way her fingers just barely tremble. Her shoulders are sore, too. This is harder than she'd expected.
Nobara had hoped longer hair meant new hairstyles. She'd neglected to account for the fact that she hasn't had hair longer than a chin-length bob since she was 8, and therefore has very little experience in actually doing those styles that she sees other girls execute with ease. French braid, Dutch braid, fishtail… even just a regular braid — they all come apart in her fingers no matter how hard she tries.
It doesn't help that she can only attempt it when she has the visual of her own reflection in front of her, and it certainly doesn't help that half her vision is missing. The loss of accurate depth perception had been one of the hardest things to adapt to, easily worse than the absence of a left-side periphery.
It's a major hitch in her recovery — much as she tries to train and rebuild to a level that would allow her to resume taking missions, having a technique that relies on accurate aim… there's been too many close calls already with stray nails she's miscalculated the trajectory of. She'd nearly hammered one into Megumi's hand earlier today during their spar. She cringes at the memory, but to be fair: who decided it would be a good idea to pair up the two visually-impaired people?
She runs a hand through her hair, watching idly as the strands re-straighten as if she'd never tried to interweave them at all. This clearly isn't going to work.
She heads toward the kitchen, in search of a meal if not for someone else to entertain her in conversation. There's always someone around, these days. No one likes to spend too much time alone, and no one has to — they're still in the limbo phase of the fighting being over, but everything is in shambles anyways, so they might as well take their time in recovering. Missions are scarce in the wake of Shinjuku, so they fill the time with each other; group training, group meal preparation, group just-sitting-around-the-common-room-together.
It's nice, Nobara has to admit. Sure, it's only a byproduct of the intense trauma they've collectively gone through, but the change of pace has been a relief. Having her friends back safe, everyone changed in some way, but alive.
She can hear someone bustling in the kitchen as she pads down the hall, readjusting where her sleep shirt has slipped off one shoulder during her failed attempt at hair braiding. It's still early in the evening, but no one really stays up that late these days. The silence of nighttime isn't all that appealing.
Stepping into the warmly-lit common room, she spots Maki over in the adjoining kitchen, face screwed up in concentration as she hovers a pot of something bubbling furiously. The smell of miso and ginger fills the space, cozy and inviting.
Megumi is curled up on one of the couches, tucked under a blanket with his eyes closed, but Nobara can tell he's awake from the rate of his breathing. Something's playing at low volume on the decade-old TV set; it's some Western movie she thinks Yuuji forced her to watch once. He's probably the one that set it up today, as well. He likes the background noise, but he's nowhere to be seen at the moment.
Megumi cracks an eye open —the good one — as she comes closer. She and him are mirrored; she'd lost her left eye, he can only partially see out of his right one.
She kneels next to the couch, and that jade green eye doesn't waver, blanket pulled up tight to his chin. Hopefully he's in a social mood, because this might be the solution to her predicament.
"Can you braid my hair?" She keeps her voice quiet, scanning over Megumi's face as she speaks to gauge his answer.
He doesn't talk all that much these days. Not that he was overly conversational before, but now, in the after…
He didn't say a word for the first three days he was back on campus. Nobara can't exactly blame the guy. He's opened up a little in the time since then, but a spoken response isn't always something she can count on.
She doesn't mind, necessarily. They're all used to sign language anyways, thanks to Toge. It was a cruel twist of fate that Toge had then been the one who had to relearn how to sign with just one arm. Ironic, if there was anything humorous to be found in it.
Megumi's eye blinks at her. Maybe he was dozing before she arrived, maybe she shouldn't interrupt. She's about to straighten back up, pull the blanket a little tighter around him and tell him not to worry about it, but then he gives the tiniest of nods.
She tries rein in her enthusiasm. "You will? Really?" She's smiling widely at him, she knows, but this is just such a relief. Her hair tangles now in her sleep, she's discovered. If she braids it, she won't have to worry about it in the morning. Maki could do it, but Nobara doesn't want to interrupt her cooking.
Megumi nods again, a little firmer this time. A hand comes up to scrub at his eyes, and then he's straightening into sitting, blanket falling away from his shoulder. He points a finger down at the couch, or maybe the floor. She catches on.
Here?
She nods, and he makes room, tucking his feet up cross-legged and readjusting the blanket over his lap, hands coming to rest on his knees as she sits on the floor in front of him, back pressed to the couch.
They've done this once before — it's why she even considered asking him. Heaven knows she won't let Yuuji try this.
It had been months ago, back in autumn; she'd been on the verge of needing a haircut and desperate for some way to keep her hair out of her face as they were preparing to head out on a mission. She'd been fretting over a misplaced hairband (she knew Panda was stealing them from her, she just couldn't prove it) and Megumi had quietly offered to do her hair. She hadn't taken the offer seriously at first, but he's not one to suggest things without the intent to follow through, and she didn't have a better option.
He'd been surprisingly skilled, deft fingers quickly working her hair into a half-up, half-down style that kept her grown-out bangs pulled away from her face — exactly what she'd wanted. He'd flushed slightly when she'd complimented him on it, mumbling something about how his sister had taught him.
She's a good teacher, then. Nobara had checked her reflection again in her phone screen, admiring the braids on either side of her face.
Megumi had looked away. She was more patient than I probably deserved.
Nobara knows more about Tsumiki now. Knows more about Megumi's childhood, the fact that she'd been the only truly steady presence in his life. Knows how intense that loss had been. He doesn't talk about her anymore. Doesn't mention which bits of his habits come from her, which inconsequential pieces of himself he inherited and now hides away.
Maybe her grand idea here isn't so great after all — she doesn't want to reignite any grief, or to kill this warm, cozy vibe that lends a nostalgic air to the common room. A spring rain has started falling outside the sliding doors, grey clouds encroaching as the sun sets.
"You don't have to if you don't want —"
Nimble fingers land in her hair, beginning to part it into sections, and she falls silent. A hand appears over her right shoulder; he knows she wouldn't see it if it were over her left. Two fingers are extended.
Two braids?
"Yeah, two's fine. Dutch braids, if you know how to do those. Please."
The hand withdraws, and he goes back to his sectioning, short nails grazing along her scalp as he divides left from right, throwing one portion over her shoulder to keep it separated before he starts splitting apart smaller sections at the crown of her head.
Gentle nudges push her into turning her head slightly, and she's malleable beneath his hands as he works. There's something therapeutic about it, the feel of his fingers against her skin as he tugs gently, the soft brush of her hair against her own face as it's twisted in his hands. She watches the TV screen idly, half-processing the visuals of some grand quest being carried out across rolling green hills and elf-filled forests, listening to the muffled noise of Maki moving around in the kitchen behind them, the soft cadence of Megumi's quiet breathing.
Sometime around when Megumi finishes the first braid and starts up at the top of the second, Yuuji appears, ambling into the common room with his hoodie pulled up over shower-damp hair.
He lights up when he sees them seated in front of the TV, even though Nobara's fairly sure that's where Megumi was whenever Yuuji had left. "Oh, perfect! You guys are at my favorite part!"
He comes around the back of the couch since Nobara's blocking off the front, her knees pulled up against the low coffee table, and settles into the open space next to Megumi. Head turned to allow Megumi better reach to her left side, Nobara gets a full view of the kiss Yuuji plants on Megumi's cheek, and the ensuing blush that creeps over Megumi's pale skin while Yuuji just withdraws with a smile, tugging a corner of the blanket over himself.
"You guys are gross." There's no heat behind Nobara's words — it's her best-friend duty, after all, to call them out on their antics.
"You're one to talk." Yuuji gives her a lopsided grin from the couch, eyes sparking with amusement as his gaze flits away to somewhere above her.
"Who's being gross?" Maki's voice drapes over her, low and comforting. There's the weight of a warm hand on her shoulder, and then Maki presses a chaste kiss against Nobara's cheek before she can answer. Nobara tilts her head on instinct, smiling up at Maki, and Megumi makes a quiet noise of protest at the movement, his hands tethered to her hair as she turns.
"Sorry, Megumi. As consolation — a kiss for you, too." Maki moves to stand behind the couch, pulling Megumi's head back to plant a soft kiss on the top of his head, ignoring the way he tries to duck away. There's another muffled noise of objection as he's pulled backwards, Nobara pulled with him until he loosens his fingers, half-braided hair slipping free.
Megumi gives his most disgruntled glare as Maki withdraws, her hand ruffling through the mess of his hair. She pats it gently as she teases him, smiling at Nobara. "It was crooked anyways. It'll look better on the second try."
Shaking his head, Megumi gestures for Nobara to return to her original position, his fingers coming back to re-separate the half-unraveled braid.
"Wait, me too! I want a kiss, too!" Yuuji is giving his best pleading look, pointing emphatically at his own head as he leans toward Maki. "Please!"
She huffs a half-laugh as she obliges, dropping a quick kiss on top of his hood that leaves Yuuji beaming, self-satisfied as though it's the greatest thing in the world.
In a way, Nobara supposed it is. She likes these small comforts, moments that stretch on when her friends are within reach, the soft noise of rain falling outside, the flicker of the TV screen washing them all in a muted glow. She collects them like tokens, proof that we're here, we're okay.
Maki straightens back up, hands resting against the backrest of the couch. "Food will be ready soon. Kitsune udon."
Yuuji lets out a quick cheer, Megumi nods, and Nobara flashes a thumbs-up. She won't dislodge Megumi's hands and make him start this braid a third time.
Maki drifts away, returning to the kitchen, and Megumi continues to work his way through her hair. Yuuji's absorbed in the movie, feeding out little bits of trivia he knows from behind the scenes, and Nobara can feel herself relaxing. Arms wrapped around her knees, squeezed between the couch and the coffee table with her head resting against Megumi's knee, nothing outside the room seems significant.
This is all that matters to her.