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With Nobara unconscious, Maki goes through her things.
This is her rationale:
Nobara is alone in that infirmary bed, wearing nothing more than those thin hospital clothes and the bandages around her face. She must be cold.
Nobara is alone in that infirmary bed, and if she wakes up she's not going to know what's going on, or perhaps even where she is. She will be lonely.
So Maki is going to get her some clothes. Something warm. Something familiar she can cling to.
She knows Nobara, she's going to wake up and frown at what she's wearing and after the dust settles and she's told everything that happened—everything that happened to her— she's going to ask for two things. A shower. And a change of clothes.
In a different world, she would also ask to see Maki. But it's not a different world, it's only this one.
She feels a little strange rummaging through her closet, but ultimately Nobara wouldn't really care.
Maki's fingers thread through the different fabrics. Sheer frills, silk and cotton, pastel sundresses and strapless blouses, denim jackets and bomber jackets and jeans and pleated skirts and shorts and overalls and leggings and other random assortments. Nobara’s uniforms are shoved at the back of the rack like an afterthought.
Maki is a bit overwhelmed. She’s seen Nobara in most of these clothes, but she knows Nobara has no favorites.
Favorites imply I wear them a lot, Maki-san, and that’s a waste because life is too short to repeat clothes a lot, it’s better to wear them a few times then boom, to the charity bin. Or just return them if the refund window isn’t closed. Boom. Recycle the money.
She used to say that a lot.
Comfortable. Maki just needs something comfortable for Nobara to wear.
Pajamas should work fine, then. There’s a purple set she likes to wear around, though she always seems to get flustered when Maki sees her, but it’s by far the most comfortable option. She'll get something else, too, in case Nobara does hate the idea of walking around the school like that.
Maki frowns, staring at the clothes. That's by far the stupidest thought she's had so far.
Who would give a shit about walking around in pajamas with the world in this state?
Maybe Nobara wouldn't even care. Maybe she'd think Maki is an idiot for wasting her time doing something like this instead of making herself useful, instead of being out there in the fight, helping, fixing things.
You're overthinking again, Maki-san.
That's what she would say.
Maki's fingers tighten around a piece of fabric, so sudden and unwilling she yanks it out of the hanger without meaning to.
It's a sweater.
It's very soft, dark forest green, knitted cotton, it feels so nice against her tender skin, a soothing texture against the remnants of the burns.
Mm. Maybe this. But what if it's too hot?
Not really knowing what to do, and without a clear answer, Maki just grabs a hold of whatever she can. Pajamas, sweatpants, loose shirts and socks and a hoodie, just in case, and this sweater.
Bundling everything in her arms as carefully as she can, Maki makes her way out of Nobara's room and back to the infirmary.
No changes, but that's to be expected. Still unconscious.
Maki folds the clothes and carefully stacks them on the only nightstand in the small cubicle, this little space divided by thin curtains.
Shoko bustles about on the other side, the thrum of her reverse cursed energy cooling the air only slightly, the sound of her heels sporadic.
There's other people there. Akari Nitta's dress shoes tapping every so often. Steady breathing from Toge's bed. Asleep, not unconscious. Not-so-steady breathing from Ijichi’s bed. Unconscious, but not dead. Another sorcerer Maki doesn't know is crying, soft and under his breath.
Maki had been like that just yesterday, she had been like that for three days straight. She woke up in pain, burning still, and saw her sister's face.
Then every sorcerer from the Kyoto branch had been displaced back to their jurisdiction, and Mai couldn't stay, and Maki was alone.
She's still alone.
Perhaps she should've stayed unconscious.
“Hey Maki,” Shoko says as she pushes the curtain aside, just her head peeking in. She scans the room until her eyes fall on the pile of clothes. “It’s nice you brought her that, but she can’t be disturbed enough to—”
“I know,” Maki says. “I wasn’t going to dress her, this is just for when she wakes up.”
“That’s kind of you.”
Kind? Not really. Just something to do instead of staying idle. Maki still isn’t entirely sure Nobara is going to appreciate it.
“But it’s late,” Shoko says. “Are you going to stay here?”
Maki hesitates. She doesn’t want Nobara to wake up and be lonely, but what if she does wake up and she sees Maki and Maki isn’t what she wants to see?
Shoko notices her hesitation, as she’s probably used to seeing this type of indecision before. The indecision of having someone so close to slipping away and not knowing what to do, careful because you’re afraid any small choice may just be what pushes them over the edge.
“I think you’re still weakened and should get proper rest,” Shoko says. “In a bed. I’ll let you know if there are any updates.”
“What if—” Maki licks her lips. “What if she wakes up and she’s alone and—?” She doesn’t know how to finish the question, all she knows is that if she had woken up completely alone, without Mai, then in her panic and pain she would’ve done something very bad.
“She won’t be alone,” says Shoko. “I’ll stay here.”
Much better, then. Shoko is a familiar face, and one Nobara would undoubtedly prefer to see.
“Okay,” Maki says.
On a whim, and barely realizing what she’s doing, Maki takes the green sweater back with her.
Shoko doesn’t say anything about it.
She likes the texture of it between her fingers, she follows the knitted patterns almost reverently, nothing but static in her brain. There’s been nothing but static in her brain since she woke up, louder when she’s alone.
Before she knows it, she’s back in Nobara’s room.
She’s sitting on her bed.
A ping from her phone. Mai. Maki replies, yes she’s okay, she’s glad Mai made it to Kyoto safely. Mai tells her to get some sleep. Maki tells her she will.
The nicest things they’ve said to each other in two years.
Maki lies down on the messy blankets, sighs. Nobara never makes her bed, ever. What’s the point if I’m just going to mess it up again at night?
Nobara woke up that morning three days ago, on Halloween, unaware of what was even going to happen. They were all unaware.
The bed is not unfamiliar, Maki's been among this mess of sheets and blankets and pillows many times before. Nobara painting her nails with a towel across both their knees. Lying side by side watching a show on a laptop, brushing hands while reaching for the same chips. All those words Maki wanted to tell her but didn't know how.
Maybe she should’ve told her regardless.
She’s still holding the sweater. It’s oversized for Nobara, so it would fit Maki okay, if just a little tight on the shoulders, but the thought of putting it on seems so wrong. She would ruin it, she would stain it.
And the scent of Nobara's perfume would disappear from the fabric.
It’s a speck of familiarity among all the things that are different now. Everyone’s gone, or leaving, or hurt, or dead. And Maki is still alive, but she’s not who she was just a few days ago. She looks different, she feels different.
There’s a new pain buried among the layers of her skin, clinging to the surface when her scars touch anything. It’s the touch of the burn, the memory, or maybe it’s just pain. It’s everywhere. Her clothes itch, they hurt, the brush of her hair against her forehead and ears is a puncturing blaze, she can’t get comfortable.
She’d taken a bath with cold water, that’d been soothing. It didn’t last nearly enough.
Shoko said her burns are healed, there's nothing to worry about. Maki told her they still hurt. Shoko looked ashamed, said it was normal. They would hurt for a few more days. Maki thinks they will hurt forever.
Her body is not hers. Her body is not even a body anymore. It’s nothing but a punishment for not being strong enough. A punishment for losing.
Maki stares at the dark ceiling of Nobara’s bedroom, resting in this familiar bed although in a very unfamiliar situation, but at least she’s surrounded by things she knows. There’s a lump in the mattress, imperceptibly digging into her lower back. It’s always been there. There’s the scent of summer in this room, citrus shampoo and strawberry perfume and maybe it should be overwhelming but it’s comforting instead.
And the sweater that she holds close to her chest, that she tucks next to her neck like another pillow.
It’s still very soft.
Maki doesn’t get much sleep, but she’s not surprised.
The pain wakes her up, flaring all over even though she hasn’t moved. She gets out of bed and into the bathroom. She splashes water on her face, cold, freezing, cooling, calming. One breath, two.
Why did she have to lose?
Why did Nobara have to lose?
Why had they separated? Why did Maki let her go? Why didn’t Maki go with her?
Why?
The night gives her no answers, the stranger looking back at her in the mirror doesn’t know what to say.
Maki stands under the spray of the shower, turns the water on as cold as she possibly can. When the bathtub fills, she sinks into it too, like burying herself in a pile of ice.
Her skin is relieved, but there’s still smoke burning in her lungs, the smell of her own body succumbing to the flames.
Weak.
She doesn’t feel like getting back into bed, so she returns to the infirmary.
She’s quiet as she does it. Toge is still asleep, Ijichi’s breathing is stable now, and the sorcerer she doesn’t know is not crying anymore.
Shoko kept her promise. She’s slumped over the desk in front of the curtains separating the beds, her head buried in her arms. Cigarette ashes litter the wooden surface, and she stirs immediately when Maki comes in, as if she hadn’t been truly asleep, just waiting for the smallest of noises.
Maki can be pretty quiet, she’s a little surprised someone can be so alert.
“Maki?” Shoko rubs her face, yawns into her palm. “What is it? Do you need anything?”
“No,” Maki says through the wisps of phantom pain still flaring over her skin. It’s better after the shower. She still doesn’t know if the pain is in her head or not. “I just couldn't sleep. Do you want me to take over?”
“Take over?” Shoko frowns. “You?”
Maki shrugs. “They're all out of immediate danger, aren't they? And you dismissed me earlier, but I think you need to rest more than anyone else, Shoko-san.”
“You sound like—” She yawns again, her eyes so lidded it’s a wonder she can see anything at all. “I don’t know, Maki, you’re not in the best of shapes, either.”
“I’m not useless enough that I wouldn’t be able to call for help.”
Shoko grimaces. “You’re not useless at all.”
Maki disagrees, but she’s not about to voice that. She does want Shoko to get some rest, even if that means Nobara is going to be stuck with her at least until sunrise.
“What time is it?”
“Around four,” Maki says.
“Good God.” Shoko sighs, rubs her eyes one last time before getting to her feet. “There’s a room right next to this place. It’s within shouting distance. Let me know if anything happens, and I mean anything. Alright? None of them are in critical condition anymore, but you never know.”
Maki nods.
“Thank you, Maki.” Shoko goes to put a hand on Maki’s shoulder, and Maki flinches away before she can make contact. “Are they hurting badly?”
“No more than when I woke up.”
Shoko had asked her to rate her pain on a scale of one through ten. Maki said a three, her vision blurry with her own tears.
“I have injections that can help,” Shoko says.
“No offense, Shoko-san, but I’m not sure I’d trust you with a needle anywhere near me right now.”
Shoko clicks her tongue, then she makes her way to the back of the room where there's cabinets upon cabinets of medicine, all carefully labeled behind glass.
Maki had been surprised, upon being admitted at the school, to see so many medical supplies in the infirmary. They have Shoko, after all.
But there’s nothing in this world that can fix every problem or mend every wound, Shoko included. Even reverse cursed technique has its limits.
“Take this for now,” Shoko says, presenting Maki with a tube of cream. “Use it where it hurts, and I’ll give you a shot tomorrow morning.”
“Thank you.”
“And wash your hands beforehand.”
Maki nods. “Goodnight, Shoko-san.”
Shoko sighs. It’s clear she’s fighting for her life not to yawn a third time. “Goodnight, Maki. Remember—”
“I’ll yell,” Maki says, now amused. “Don’t worry.”
Shoko looks as if that’s simply not even a possibility.
She leaves Maki behind with one last nod and a worried look. Under normal circumstances Maki thinks she wouldn't have left, but she really looks to be so tired a breeze alone could knock her down.
Maki washes her hands before going inside Nobara's not-room, sliding the curtain aside carefully so as not to wake anyone else, and she dims the hospital lights in the cubicle.
There's a chair there, not entirely uncomfortable.
She's still carrying Nobara's sweater, and now she spreads it over her lap.
The cream Shoko gave her feels nice, it helps with the itching. Maki works it over her arms slowly, focusing on that instead of the unconscious girl in front of her. She rubs up and down her neck, and across her cheeks and forehead.
It’s a methodical process that helps with the static in her brain. Maki doesn’t look at herself too much, but she feels all the indentations and the ridges of her skin, the patches the burns left behind, curling and rising like the lick of those flames.
Maki carries that fire with her now. It makes her sick. At least the cream helps a bit.
Her arms are the worst, her wrist joints, the soft bits on the inside of her elbows, her shoulders. Anything that moves too much, that moves too constantly.
At least the fire didn't touch her below the waist, she probably wouldn't be able to walk.
Getting comfortable is, again, a struggle. An uphill battle she doesn’t really win, she just staves off for now. Legs curled beneath her, sideways on the chair, and Nobara’s sweater now bundled under her face like a pillow. It still smells nice.
Maki closes her eye, hopes that if she remains as still as possible her own aching won’t wake her up again.
She’s wrong, of course, it’s not the type of pain that disappears if you stop staring at it for long enough. But, in any case, that’s not what wakes her up.
It’s a soft groan, not hers, and the shuffle of hospital sheets.
Drowsy, and only now realizing she did fall asleep, and who knows for how long, Maki blinks herself awake, and she catches movement in the semi-darkness.
It’s Nobara.
It’s Nobara.
“M-Maki-san?”
Maki scrambles forward, nearly falling off the chair. She hasn’t moved this fast since she woke up, hasn’t been this aware of her own heartbeat either.
“What happened?”
“Easy.” Maki doesn't touch her, but she hovers because Nobara is about to sit up and that would probably be very bad. “You're alright. It's just me.”
Oh. Maybe that's the problem. It's just Maki, but Maki doesn't look like she did just a few days ago. She's not a familiar sight, or a pleasant sight, and who's to say Nobara would even want to see her now, she probably wants—
Nobara’s eye widens, and her hand moves.
She reaches for Maki.
“It’s really you,” Nobara says, her voice a rasp, barely a whisper. It sounds painful. “Are you—alright?”
The fingers wrapped around Maki’s wrist burn, they are more fire on her tender skin, but she doesn’t flinch, she doesn’t pull away. There is something pleasant about this sort of pain.
“Yes,” Maki says because it’s pointless to tell Nobara she shouldn’t be worrying about her right now. “How are you feeling?”
Nobara’s free hand comes out from under her blankets, she stares at her own fingers under the dim lights of the infirmary, then she reaches to her face, skimming the bandages that cover one side of her head.
Maki waits, silent. Nobara still holds onto her.
“I lost.”
“Me too,” Maki says. “We all lost.”
Then Nobara looks at her even more horrified, and Maki realizes what she just said.
“Ah, I didn't mean—”
“Is Itadori alive?” Nobara asks, her voice small, still raspy. Maki should get her water. She should get her Shoko.
Instead, she answers, she answers because Yuji was the last person Nobara saw in Shibuya. “Yes.”
“Fushiguro? And the senpai?”
“Megumi’s alive. Everyone else, too.”
“And—Gojo-sensei?”
“He’s—still captured.”
“So it’s not over.”
Maki gulps. “No, it's not over.” She's not going to just lie to her, but when Nobara closes her eye and takes a deep breath Maki kinda wishes she had. “I'll go tell Shoko-san you're awake.”
“Don't.” Her hand tightens on Maki's wrist. It stings. Maki doesn't mind. “Am I going to die?”
The question doesn't just sting, it downright pierces through Maki's chest.
She clears her throat. “No.”
“You mean not now, at least—” Nobara sighs. “Please don't call Shoko-san.”
“But aren't you in pain? She can—”
“I'm not in pain,” Nobara says. “Well, not the pain she can help with. It's just—if she comes here, then she's going to tell me. She's going to tell me everything, and I don't think I want to know—yet.”
“Ah.” Maki can understand that. “But she's not going to tell you anything you don't want to know.”
“But I'll want to ask her.”
“And you don't want to ask me?”
“No,” Nobara says. “Not about me. The only thing I want to ask you is what happened to you?”
“Nothing, I just—”
“Don’t crack a joke.”
Maki pauses, a faint smile on her face. “Hold on. At least let me get you some water.”
“And help me sit up.”
“I don't think you should—”
“Just help me. I'm fine.”
“Somehow I doubt that.” But Maki helps her anyways, and to her credit Nobara moves with the slowness of someone getting accustomed to wakefulness, not the slowness of someone in pain.
She also drinks the water slowly, eye closed, and if it were any other thing Maki would think she's savoring it.
Maki drags her chair next to the bed, and when Nobara puts the glass down on the nightstand she notices the pile of clothes, and she stares at it for a long, long time.
Then she notices her sweater, bundled like a pillow in the chair, and then she looks at Maki and she knows, and Maki can't help but feel a little warm in the face.
Not the kind of warmth that hurts, but the kind that reminds her where she is and who Nobara is.
“Were you cuddling my sweater?”
“No,” Maki says quickly. “I don't know how that got here. But I did get you some clothes.”
A smile plays on the visible side of Nobara's lips. “All my clothes, it seems like.”
“I just had no idea what you'd want to wear once you woke up. I like being prepared.”
“How long has it been?”
“Three days.”
“And you—you got hurt that day, too?”
“Yeah,” Maki says. “It was a special grade cursed spirit, I didn’t even see it coming. Third and fourth degree burns. Shoko-san saved my life.”
“Fourth degree? I’ve never even heard of that. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Sure. I asked Shoko-san what would’ve happened to me if she wasn’t here, and she said I would’ve needed so many surgeries, skin grafts and the like, if I even survived. But, yeah, I’m okay.”
Nobara’s remaining eye narrows, if anything at least she's still as expressive as ever, even with all those bandages. “You’re lying.”
And even with just one eye open, she’s still able to see right through Maki.
“Well,” Nobara continues, “I guess no one can truly be okay right now. I don’t even know if I’m happy to be alive.”
Maki grits her teeth. “Don’t say that.”
“But I mean it. I wasn’t expecting—”
“I know,” says Maki. “But what about me? I’m happy you’re alive.”
“Wow. I almost died and all you can do is think of yourself.” Nobara chuckles, her hand moving over the sheets, looking for Maki's. “How selfish.”
“Extremely selfish.”
Even their hands are so different. Nobara's are smaller, Maki's are threaded with scars, her nails bitten whereas she can still see the remnants of Nobara's last manicure. Different skin tones, but similar calluses. When their fingers intertwine, one next to the other, fingertips resting over knuckles, they fit.
They just fit.
“I’m happy you’re alive, too,” Nobara whispers.
Maki hopes she thinks they fit, too.
“I'm really not going to die?”
“No, Nobara,” Maki says, voice hoarse. “You're not going to die.”
Nobara nods, clearly not wanting to know any more just yet. “Can you—” she hums. “Can you help me with something?”
It's obvious what she's going to ask. “Shoko-san said I shouldn't move you.”
“But I need a shower!”
“Shhh. You're not the only patient here.”
“Ah, crap.” Nobara winces. “Please.”
“Not gonna happen.” Then, because she does feel kind of bad staring at the face of tragedy incarnate, Maki adds, “Sorry.”
Nobara leans back on her pillows. They're still holding hands.
“You don't understand, I feel horrible.”
“Does it hurt? Let me—”
“No, no,” Nobara says. “It doesn't hurt. But—the cursed spirit that did this it—it was weird. It's like I still have its hand on my face. Whatever it did to me just doesn't feel like it's over.”
Just like the fire doesn’t feel like it’s over. Just like Maki is still burning. And what helps her, even a little bit? What had helped her? Dunking herself in freezing water.
This is a horrible idea.
“If it hurts even a little bit,” Maki says. “Anything, and I mean anything, please tell me. Please.”
Nobara’s face lights up, and she nods. “Of course.”
Nobara still moves slowly, but she really doesn’t seem to be in pain, and it makes Maki wonder if the sedatives and painkillers Shoko was pumping into her for days on end are still working.
Maki helps her to her feet, then helps her when she stumbles.
“Wow, what?” Nobara frowns, blinks. She’s leaning against Maki, looking around as if she’s never seen the world before. “Hold on, everything’s fucked.”
“It’s your depth perception,” Maki says. “It takes time to get used to.”
Nobara looks up at Maki, squinting at the scar that sews her right eye shut. “You seem to be handling it fine.”
“I had a whole day to get used to it.”
“Of course you’d get used to it in a day,” she grumbles. She takes one last glance at the clothes Maki got for her, and that stupid incriminatory sweater still on the chair, and it looks like she wants to smile but something holds her back. “Let’s just go.”
Nobara lets Maki guide her out of the curtain and through the infirmary towards the back where the washrooms are.
The floors are covered with non-slip pads and the walls all have grips and holders at the necessary intervals. There’s enough space for two people, the showerhead and stool, the tub, and little else.
Maki didn’t think this through.
“I don’t think you should—”
“It’s fine,” Nobara says, already removing her bandages. “I think it’s all healed, like you.”
She means the scars that look like they’ve been on Maki’s skin for years instead of just three days.
Nobara unwraps her head and takes one long, long look at herself in the mirror. The left side of her face wears the hurting, the scars run from down her cheek, slashing across an empty eye socket, a drooping eyelid, and up into her hairline. They take her eyebrow, part of her hair.
Nobara stares.
Maki had stared at herself, too, for a long time.
“Well,” Nobara finally says. “Guess I’ll have to get used to this, too.” She leans closer to the mirror. “My roots are showing. Gross.”
And with that she reaches for the tub, slowly because she’s still unsure on her own feet, and turns on the water.
Maki busies herself getting towels and washcloths and shampoo—Nobara is going to hate this one. Maybe Maki should go back to her room and get her stuff, she could be quick about it. But leaving her alone seems a lot worse than dealing with this standardized infirmary shampoo.
Well, she does have to leave her alone. Right? At least for a bit.
Maki hears the shower nuzzle as she puts the shampoo on the edge of the tub for easier reach, and she doesn’t dare turn around.
“I’ll be uh, just outside if you need me.”
There must be at least some sort of tremble to her voice, and Nobara quickly picks up on it. “What? You’re embarrassed? We literally share a locker room.”
“It’s not the same thing.”
“And we’ve been to the hot springs together!”
“It’s not the same thing.”
Nobara laughs, which is nice. It’s a nice sound. It’s the best sound Maki has ever heard. “Fine, have it your way. Prude.”
Maki frowns, but she still makes it to leave the washroom. She takes only one glance over her shoulder, to make sure Nobara is really fine, and sees she’s sitting on the stool and already holding the showerhead above herself.
“Isn’t it cold?” Maki asks.
“Freezing,” Nobara says. “I don’t care.”
Inside of Maki, something softens before she turns away again.
She waits just outside in the changing room, the door ajar, the sound of the water mingling with the static in her brain. Everything feels dull, everything feels slow and morose, perhaps because it’s late night, or very early morning, or perhaps this is just the way life is going to be from now on, always a little painful, always a little too slow.
Then there’s a noise, something falling, and Nobara groaning.
Maki rushes back inside to find Nobara still on the shower stool, clutching the injured side of her head with both hands. The showerhead hangs from above, hitting the wall like a pendulum, and below it is a spilled bottle of shampoo.
“Moved too fast,” Nobara says through gritted teeth. “Dizzy.”
“It’s alright.” Maki gets a towel and drapes it around Nobara’s shoulders. She’s shaking, and her skin is too cold. It’s not that she never waited for the warm water, it's that she never turned it on.
“Can’t even wash my hair—”
“Hey,” says Maki. “It’s alright.”
“It’s not.”
She’s—crying.
“Nothing’s alright.”
“Nobara—”
“I’m all messed up.” She wipes at her eye, hunched over and holding the towel around her with one hand, her hair dripping even more water down her face. “And everything’s all messed up and I don’t know what happened and I don’t want to know and I can’t even wash my hair and maybe I should’ve just died because what’s the point of me being here if I can’t even—?”
“Wash your hair? Really? That’s what you’re worried about?”
“Yes!” Nobara sniffs. “You asshole.”
“Okay.”
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have called you—what are you doing?”
Maki squeezes shampoo into her hands, standing behind Nobara. “What does it look like?”
“You don’t have to do that.”
Both the shampoo and Nobara’s hair feel weird against her fingers, against her scars. There’s the faint itching, but no real discomfort. Nobara’s hair is nice, very thin and very straight, it’s a pleasant texture, and her roots are barely showing.
“You’re welcome to try to stop me and do it yourself.”
“I think I would pass out,” says Nobara, tilting her head back.
“That’s what I thought.”
There’s silence for a bit, just the scratch of Maki working the shampoo as gently as she can.
“There’s not much I can help with,” Maki admits. “I’m all messed up, too. But if this really bothers you, then I can help you wash your hair. Maybe it won’t make everything better, but it’s just one less small thing to worry about.”
Nobara nods weakly, clutching the towel tighter around her shoulders.
“And you shouldn’t have died, don’t say that again.” Maki taps her on the chin so she tilts her head back further, then she retrieves the showerhead and actually turns on the warm water this time, and she waits for it to heat up. “Being alive is enough of a reason to be here.”
“So you would’ve missed me?”
“Terribly.” She runs her fingers through Nobara’s hair, rinsing the white foamy shampoo. “I would’ve been heartbroken.”
“That’s good to hear.”
“You know arrogance is not a good trait?”
Nobara laughs under her breath. “Do the conditioner, too. But only the tips.”
“Yes, yes, your highness.”
“You’re getting your clothes all wet—”
“It doesn’t bother me.” Even if the water is warm it’s still a brief relief, like pressing a heat pack to aching muscles.
“You have to let the conditioner set for a bit, even this godawful one.”
Maki sighs. “Anything else? I guess you want to go in the tub after I rinse?”
“Yes, please.”
Nobara filled it up before, but once again she didn’t use warm water. Maki shakes her head, then pulls the stopper to drain the tub.
“I don’t really care if it’s cold,” Nobara says.
Maki looks at her, all small and vulnerable and scarred, shaking around her towel. “You should care,” she says.
“But—”
“I want you to care.”
Maybe it’s a punishment. Maybe she truly doesn’t care. Who knows, but Maki doesn’t like either of those ideas.
Nobara doesn’t say anything. She silently watches the water drain and watches Maki refill it, steam slowly curling off from the surface. After it’s full, and an appropriate time has passed for the conditioner to ‘settle,’ whatever that means, Maki washes it off and looks away when Nobara steps into the tub.
Which makes Nobara laugh, because of course she’s amused. She’s also pleased as she sinks into the warm water, letting her head loll back against the edge of the tub, closing her eye, sighing.
For the first time since waking up she looks calm. Relaxed, even. It’s nice to know that at least there’s still one person Maki can help feel more like themselves in this senseless tragedy.
“Do you feel any better?”
“Yeah,” says Nobara. “Yeah, this is wonderful. It's amazing how things can change after cleaning up.”
Maki can understand that. Things don't magically get fixed, but they do get a little better.
“Don’t fall asleep,” Maki tells her. “I’ll go get your clothes.” But she pauses at the doorway. “What do you want to wear, actually?”
Nobara laughs again, she doesn’t open her eye. “I’d say that one sweater but—”
“Oi. Shut up.”
More laughter. “Pajamas are fine, Maki-san. The purple ones you brought, I saw them on the nightstand.”
“Huh, that was the first thing I grabbed.”
She cracks her eye open, looks at Maki with an amusement that’s honestly refreshing. “See? You do know me well.”
Maki also changes her own clothes after that little stunt. She doesn’t put on Nobara's sweater, because she really doesn't want to stretch it even a little bit, but there's something better.
“Please just stay,” Nobara says. “Please, please. Shoko-san can take a look at me in the morning.”
“It's already morning.”
“Being purposely obtuse is not a good trait either.”
“I, uh—” Maki eyes the bed, then squirms where she's standing.
“Are you nervous?” Nobara actually giggles.
God. It's not that at all.
“Oh,” says Nobara as if Maki had actually spoken. “Are you in pain?”
“No, I'm just—itchy.”
Maddeningly so.
“Can I help?”
“Shoko-san gave me this thing—”
So that's how Maki ends up sitting on the edge of that infirmary bed, the lights still dim, Nobara sitting right behind her and working the cream over her back. Her hands feel nice. Everything about Nobara is nice, really.
“I could do it myself,” Maki says.
“No you couldn’t. How would you even reach without hurting yourself?”
She has a point. There’s a reason Maki only lathered it on her arms and face earlier. “It’s not that bad. They don’t really hurt a lot, I’m just sore, and itchy. But this helps.”
Nobara hums, the palms of her hands a gentle pressure along Maki’s spine. “Well, I’m glad I can help. And don’t say I don’t have to. I want to.”
Maki smiles. “Okay. I won’t say it.”
She goes up, rubbing circles on Maki’s shoulderblades. “And don’t think it, either.”
“I won’t think it.”
She goes further up, fingers spreading on the back of her neck, under her jaw. Maki closes her eye, feels when Nobara leans forward, just a bit, just enough.
She’s still so careful.
Maki's never been touched like this, with so much care.
When Nobara moves away, she misses the contact immediately.
“You can, uh, put your shirt back on. And turn around. Uhm—in that order, please!”
“Who’s the nervous one, now?” Maki chuckles, wiggling into her sleeveless shirt, careful not to rub too much against it.
She's always thought Nobara to be pretty, very pretty. She thinks about it again right then, when she sees the fidgety way her hands flutter about, the way her throat works when she gulps and looks away.
If Maki knew a little more, she would be able to tell her what she thinks, she would be able to tell her she’s pretty. But she’s not sure if she—should.
“Let me finish,” Nobara says, extending one of her hands. “Arms?”
Maki turns to sit cross-legged on the bed, Nobara still kneeling in front of her. “Okay.”
Maki can't stop staring at her.
Nobara, on the other hand, it's wholly focused on what she's doing.
“You’ll need lots of sunscreen, I have really good ones.”
“Do you?”
“Yeah. Do you know how important that is to a proper skincare routine?”
“I don’t think skincare is very important right now—”
“Hush.” Nobara looks up, her hands are warm around Maki’s forearm, smooth from the cream, her calluses barely registering because she’s very gentle.
She is pretty, but looking at her now it’s odd. Maki is not used to the scarring, but that’s the last thing she cares about, she’s also not used to the melancholy and the weight of hurting around Nobara’s features. She’s not used to this low cadence to her voice, as if afraid of speaking too much, as if there is always something holding her back.
This could almost be familiar. This back-and-forth, this teasing that doesn’t lead anywhere because Maki doesn’t know how to make it go anywhere. But there’s something wrong about it, something different. Nobara is sad, and she’s sad, and Maki is going to have to get used to it for now.
“Skincare is always important.”
But it’s still Nobara, after all.
Despite everything, it’s still her.
Nobara gulps again, something about the way they’re staring at each other holds weight, makes time feel even slower, the dim lights feel softer. They’re close, too, Nobara is still so warm.
“Is umh—is your face itchy, too?”
It’s really not. “Yeah.”
“Okay. Hold still.”
She comes even closer, squeezing some more cream, and uses one hand to brush Maki’s hair away from her forehead. Then she touches Maki, just with the tips of her fingers, more a caress than anything else, more an exploration of her features, the hollow of her temples, slope of her nose, the arch of her cheekbones, the edge of her jaw.
Maki still can’t stop looking at her.
“See anything you like?” Nobara asks with a smile.
For months now, Maki has wanted to tell her, and she never has the right words. Maybe she just needs one.
“You.”
Nobara stops abruptly. “What?” she asks, word halfway to a gasp. “Me?”
“Mhm.” Maki rests her chin onto her hand, once Nobara leans back in shock. This should feel a little more nerve-racking, maybe, but in reality it’s just funny.
“You like me?”
“I—”
“Not like I'm surprised,” Nobara cuts in quickly. “Really, I'm not. I totally knew that. But uh, do you mean—romantically?”
“Let me reconsider.”
“Nope! You can't take it back now!” She laughs. “Seriously. I totally knew. Who cuddles someone’s sweater unless—?”
“Stop that.”
“But it is good to know I haven’t been flirting with you for the past months for no reason.”
Maki frowns. “Months?”
“You’re really dense,” Nobara says. “I can't tell you the amount of times I thought I was being too subtle, or that you weren't into me. But, honestly, you're just really dense.”
“Okay, thanks. Maybe next time, you know, just tell me?”
“And ruin the fun?” She laughs. “You’re cute.”
“Even now?”
“Always. And I have great taste, so you know I’m right. Do you feel any better?”
Right. She must mean the cream.
“Yes,” Maki says, and she doesn’t mean the cream.
Nobara knows.
There’s a beat of silence, both of them sitting in front of each other on the bed.
“This is dumb,” Nobara declares. “Can we just kiss?”
Maki laughs.
And so they kiss.
Because Nobara is not used to having only one functional eye, her depth perception is still fucked, and so her teeth click against Maki's after she miscalculates the distance. It's honestly hilarious, and a little heartbreaking because Nobara makes a noise of surprise and annoyance, but it's also wonderful.
She’s clearly afraid to touch Maki, which is sweet because she just rubbed medicine all over Maki's bare skin but now she doesn't know where to put her hands.
So Maki takes her hands, lacing their fingers again.
It's so wonderful. Being so close. Finally being so close. It's more soothing and relieving and calming than anything else Maki could've done.
“Stay.” Nobara’s mouth moves against her as she speaks, the kiss doesn’t stop. “Please.”
“I'll stay.”
Nobara’s hair is still wet, it tickles Maki’s shoulder as she settles in the small infirmary bed. It’s cool, too, comforting.
They’ve slept next to each other before, but it’s the first time Nobara scoots into their shared space like this, burying her face into Maki’s chest.
Oh. Ah. They’re cuddling. This is fine. Absolutely.
“Does it hurt?”
“No,” Maki says. She feels like her face is on fire again. “But I do have to move around often.”
“I don’t mind.”
“Okay.” Tentatively, Maki wraps her arms around Nobara, and gains a contented sigh in return.
“Thanks for your help,” Nobara says. “And for staying with me, and for bringing me clothes and worrying about me and caring about me. Thanks for not leaving me alone.”
Maki’s heart seizes in her chest, tenderly squeezed by sheer affection. Even her voice breaks when she says, “You don’t have to thank me.”
“I don’t care, I’ll still do it.” Nobara yawns into the fabric of Maki’s shirt. “As a token of my gratitude, you can borrow as many sweaters as you want in the future.”
“Oh, shut up.”
Nobara giggles. “I never thought I'd be the girlfriend to lend clothes, I always thought it'd be the other way around.”
“Girlfriend, huh?”
When Nobara looks up, her damp hair tickles Maki again, soothing against her chin. “Of course. I don’t go around kissing every girl who talks pretty to me.”
“Good to know,” says Maki. “For the record, I don’t go around stealing clothes from every girl who talks pretty to me, either.”
Nobara sticks her tongue out, then lets her head fall back onto Maki’s chest.
It’s so late that the sun is barely rising by the time they fall asleep.
Shoko finds them shortly after, but she doesn’t wake them up.