jikangairodo

[jikangairodo]

crossing my arms & going hmph about some things currently

[jikangairodo]

"thank you, nanami. i always appreciate your professionalism and wisdom. now then... do you know how to throw it back, and if the answer to that question is yes... can you provide a demonstration?"

What the actual fuck?

It truly boggles the mind that Gojo would find the one person who tolerates him, only to behave intolerably.

“The only thing I’m throwing back is a shot of whiskey when I get home,” Kento says drily as he adjusts his tie with a precision that borders on ritualistic. His gaze meets Gojo’s with a pointed look, brimming with unspoken judgement, possibly questioning his mental health.

“Have a pleasant weekend, Gojo-san,” Kento grinds out, his tone carrying an air of finality that brooks no argument. “I’ll see you on Monday.” Turning on his heel, he strides away with his dignity still somehow intact, despite Gojo’s best efforts.

[jikangairodo]

"nanami, i have a really important question and i need your input. please help."

Kento’s eyes immediately narrow in suspicion. Experience has taught him that the definition of ‘important’ differs vastly between them. And he is 99.9% certain that whatever question awaits is more likely to be trivial than substantial. It’s the 0.01% chance that this is serious, coupled with a sincere sounding ‘please’ that prevents Kento from promptly excusing himself and walking away.

“Alright, alright,” he relents, the words slipping out with a long sigh. Externally, Kento folds his arms, fingers tapping against his biceps in a rhythmic motion. Internally, he braces himself. “I’m listening.”

[jikangairodo]

[jikangairodo]

"Stay the fuck away! If you know what's good for you!" He hissed. A corner ridden man coated in blood as he gripped his head in agony. He looked at him..he didn't remember this one compared to the others he's faced.."I don't want to hurt you to.."

[ from Resurrected toji ]

There’s a commotion in the distance, prompting responsible and duty-bound Kento to exhale wearily as he strides toward the source. Blunt blade in hand, he turns a corner cautiously, and what greets him is a veritable bloodbath. With furrowed brows, he surveys the surroundings, expecting something, yet detecting no trace of curse energy emanating from the bloodied man before him. It’s as if a switch flips off whenever his gaze lands upon the figure. It’s a situation he can’t quite wrap his head around, even though something about it is eerily familiar. And then, when the criss-crossed wires of his brain connect, Kento steps back.

“I know you,” he states plainly, his words tinged with uncertainty. Though he recognizes the man somewhat, the specifics slip through his mind like sand. Ever since- “You were in Shibuya.” As he struggles to connect the dots, Kento lowers his weapon, his frown deepening, the burns covering half his body pulsing with tension.

“You saved my life,” he acknowledges, a fact beyond dispute. Yet, Kento remains largely in the dark about the man’s identity. After narrowly escaping death’s grasp, he hadn’t felt compelled to seek further information, presuming the stranger met the same fate as countless others during Sukuna’s rampage. Struggling to summon any memories from his time ensnared within Dagon’s domain, Kento finds his mind frustratingly blank. All he can recall was that he had placed any hopes of survival squarely on the shoulders of this stranger. And that Naobito-san had called him a ghost. Which seems apt, considering.

“Zen’in-san,” he ventures, hazarding a guess. “Can you tell what me happened here?” Mindful of the imminent arrival of other sorcerers, or worse, law enforcement, Kento deems it wise to either leave or align their stories. “I’m Nanami Kento,” he says, refraining from extending a hand in greeting, wary of both the man’s condition and the warning he had received.

[jikangairodo]

{ Words by Megan Fernandes, from "Fabric in Tribeca," in Good Boys / Silas Melvin, from "Twenty," Grit }

[jikangairodo]

[ 𝐑𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐄 ] ― sender and receiver see each other again after a period of being apart

For Nanami and Haibara if you're still doing these 😭

from x

Since enrolling in Jujutsu Tech, Haibara has been an ever-present fixture in Kento’s life. A bright, almost blinding concoction of enormous eyes, a wide grin, and an absurd bowl cut, always in close proximity. Save for the occasions they parted ways to retreat to adjoining bedrooms after gruelling training sessions, they were inseparable. “Joined at the hip,” Ieiri once quipped, her amusement veiled behind a deadpan stare. Even after the day’s trials, they often spent evenings together, sharing movie nights with a laptop balanced on their laps until exhaustion claimed one of them.

However, when Haibara ventures on a mission with another sorcerer, Kento finds himself adrift, unsure of how to fill the void left in his wake. He attempts to stifle the silence and occupy his mind with books, training, and even awkward attempts at socializing with his seniors, often resulting in discord. Without Haibara to temper his entire personality, he clashes with them more often than not.

Which is why he resigns himself to seeking guidance from Yaga sensei and hovering around his own underclassmen, who tolerate him and his dour moods with much more grace. The mission, sensei explains, while Kento checks his phone for the umpteenth time, is in a remote area. Which is why he has received no phone calls or messages.

“Sorry, Nanami,” he says, settling a large hand on Kento’s head. “He’ll be back soon.”

Soon, as it happens, is the following day. There are no extravagant celebrations or fanfare heralding Haibara's arrival, just a palpable concentration of curse energy travelling down the corridor towards him. Or their rooms, rather. Feeling his pulse quicken in recognition, Kento abandons his desk, his pen sliding from his grip, forgotten on stacks of homework. Before the shifting ball of energy can pass by, Kento, in a fit of something, throws his door open, startling both himself and Haibara on the other side. Without a word, he steps forward, enveloping his best friend in a tight embrace, silently conveying a heartfelt welcome back.

“You sure took your time,” he grumbles, his voice laced with frustration at the delay, though he knows Haibara isn’t to blame. After releasing him, Kento scrutinizes him for any signs of injury, concern evident in the furrow of his brow. “Are you hurt? Do you need to see Ieiri-senpai?” Followed by, “Are you hungry? I’ll make you something to eat while you have a shower. You smell burnt.”

[jikangairodo]

“ All these flavors, and you choose to be salty. ” from shoko

from x

No matter what he says next, Kento is maddeningly aware that his words will be construed as salty. For a brief moment, he purses his lips, clenches his teeth, the vein on his temple pulsating. If it’s all the same, he decides he might as well air his thoughts.

“He betrayed me, Ieiri-san.” Ijichi knew he had plans to go home, cook and get blackout drunk. Kento had told him so, in person. Instead, he’s in Shoko’s office, trying to figure out if it’s okay to sit on the examination table while soaked to the bone. “It’s only water. It won’t kill me.” The cleanest option is to stand, he decides, visibly favouring one foot.

While the mission had been an undeniable success, Kento had endured being tossed around without much regard. Bruises litter his torso, and there’s a dull ache in one ankle. Probably from when the curse had picked him up and thrown him into a dirty fucking ditch. Nothing a bath and an ice pack won’t fix. Yet, Ijichi had gone behind his back, alerting Shoko ahead of time, disrupting all his plans. The unnecessarily attentive, considerate traitor.

It’s an undeniable fact that when Shoko calls, Kento answers; he would be foolish not to. He is no stranger to her office/ infirmary/ medical bay (it’s never morgue - despite the imposing double doors catching his attention, particularly today for reasons he can’t quite grasp) often dropping by when he’s at school. Either to steal a cigarette or share lunch.

“Would you mind grabbing my bag?” Leaving spare clothes behind has become a habit, given curses seem to target his shirts most, and he’d sooner bleed out on a gurney than walk around half naked. He might as well change before he catches pneumonia and gives Ijichi something real to worry about.

“I’m fine.” With a wry twist of his lips, he peels the tattered shirt from his body. “Just need to change.” It’s nothing Shoko hasn’t seen before, yet Kento hesitates, tilting his head in question when she remains rooted in place. The double doors tug at his peripheral vision once more, insistent. It dawns on Kento then that this isn’t about him or his minor injuries. And that Ijichi is perhaps less of a traitor and more of a friend. To the both of them.

“Ieiri-san... Shoko.” A soft sigh escapes his throat as he shoves his hands into his pockets, fingers grasping the remains of his tie. He liked that one, dammit. “I have an unopened bottle of Macallan at home if you’re up for it.”

[jikangairodo]

aye 👀

[jikangairodo]

“nanami-san, what was it like being born in the 1900s?”

The way Nobara phrases her question immediately makes Kento feel as though he’s aged a century. 1900s. Straightening his back, he raises a questioning brow, expression shifting as he quells the urge to dismiss her curiosity (now is not the time), paired with the notion that there’s no harm in it. Teenagers, by nature, are inquisitive beings. Kento would know. After all, he’s the one fielding Yuji’s barrage of questions on a day-to-day basis.

“People’s experiences differ. I can’t say my childhood was the same as every other person born in the 1900s.” With a light sigh and a sense of resignation, he continues. “I was born in Tokyo. The city, back then, was as busy as it is now. I went to the same private schools my parents taught at.” Here, his gaze turns soft, inwards. “They’re both teachers. You can imagine how that was, growing up.” By the time he was five, he knew three languages, and his parents read to him every night until he could read back.

“I had a few friends, excelled academically, ran around in parks, owned a Gameboy. The usual, I imagine.” If Nobara was expecting tales of hardship and antiquated customs, she would surely be disappointed at this point. While Kento traverses his memories, his gaze drifts further away, his tone shifting. Things changed when curses begin to cut into his field of view, when lines sprang up across his vision, and when his fists started to thrum with a sensation he would later refer to as curse energy.

“As I grew older, trouble seemed to find me more often than not. I broke things accidentally, deliberately sometimes, because of my technique.” Pens, forks, sports equipment, door handles, doors, faces. They weren’t his best moments. From mundane objects to more significant mishaps, Kento’s teenage years were fraught with challenges. If he closes his eyes, he can still see how dishevelled his mother looked when she picked him up at the principal’s office, how the lines around his father’s mouth deepened over time.

“At fifteen, I encountered a sorcerer, and it took a year to convince my parents to allow me to attend Jujutsu High.” In the end, they decided it was for the best. Their weekend visits became a routine as they supported his journey through the school. It had been good for him, learning there were others who could see curses while honing his technique to near perfection. It had been good for him until it wasn’t, and Kento returned home one evening with nothing but a duffel bag and silence.

“That’s the gist of it, Kugisaki-chan. That’s how I grew up,” he concludes, then prompts her with a question of his own. “Do you want to tell me what sparked your curiosity in the first place?”

[jikangairodo]

« nanamin, since we had to change the clocks for daylight savings recently i was thinking... how do we know what time it really is ? like... who set the first clock ? what if it's actually... i'unno, noon right now ? can we just choose what time we want it to be ? »

Before speaking, Kento pauses to remove his glasses and massages his tired eyes with a weariness that could be likened to a stressed-out bear in captivity. "What do you mean by we, Itadori-kun? Please, tell me you don't adhere to these time changes.” That’s what happens when kids spend too much on social media, he supposes, expression grim. "In Japan, we follow Japan's standard time consistently throughout the year." Kento glances down at his wristwatch almost instinctively, as a reminder, as reassurance.

"Well, to put it simply, it's like taking a step forward and then backward. You end up in the same place, yes? That’s what happens every year, essentially, for countries that observe daylight savings.” If Kento’s truthful with himself, he’s always hated the disruption the change caused when talking to international clients. But that was back at his old job, his old life, and he brushes off those memories with a shake of his head.

"As humans, we've been monitoring the passage of time for millennia," he continues. "Babylonians and Egyptians utilised sundials some 5000 years ago to track time and coordinate events, particularly agricultural cycles. While the origins of the modern clock are murky, the refinement of time measurement—from seasons to seconds—has been an ongoing process throughout history." With a slight tilt of his head, he positions his glasses onto the bridge of his nose, masking the flicker of perplexity in his eyes.

"So, no, you can't simply decide what time it is. Civilisation has established the rules by which we measure time. And even though it changes from one time-zone to another, we follow the rules regarding time in our own country, much like we adhere to laws. Now, show me what time it is on your watch.” At that, Kento holds out a hand expectantly.

[jikangairodo]

𝗚𝗘𝗧 𝗧𝗢 𝗞𝗡𝗢𝗪 𝗠𝗘 𝗕𝗘𝗧𝗧𝗘𝗥.

ALIAS / NAME: i'm Nero everywhere. Jay if you wanna get rly up close and personal. i may scream and skitter off like a cat tho, fair warning

BIRTHDAY: October 9th

ZODIAC SIGN: a quintessential libra tbh, complete with the indecisiveness and empty brain

HEIGHT: 5"2-3 if i stand very straight. I'm holding onto that 1 inch like my life depends on it

HOBBIES: doomscrolling, video games, drawing, writing, plants

FAVORITE COLOR: green and believe it or not, beige

CURRENT BOOK: i'm in the process of reading all the fics put out by the last exchange event i participated in. there's at least 3 30k fics included and 23 smaller ones. i'm counting them all as 1 giant book idc

LAST SONG: does it count as a song if it's a 1 hour long mashup of 80's bollywood tracks? im a little filmi

LAST FILM / SHOW: movie- Dunki (do not recommend) last show- Severance (so good)

INSPIRATION: anything I watch/ read/ see, as in art. real life experiences

BEHIND URL: Nanami says it one time is2g. It was like my 7th choice. ratioed was taken =/

FUN FACT ABOUT ME: i have 200+ plants. mostly hoya but i have a good few philos in there. I picked up urdu while growing up and watching bollywood movies??? my muslim, bangladeshi parents, raising me in posh, central london really thought, why not add some more cultural confusion into the mix??? what could possibly go wrong??? i had an identity crisis, mum

TAGGED BY: @antishaman my beloved

TAGGING: i think most people i would've tagged have been tagged already? if not, consider this my tag <3

[jikangairodo]

as expected of a mature, adult nanami rp-er I have opted out of boops because I don't like to have any fun

[jikangairodo]

“Oi oi oi nanami”

audio from JJK audio drama - “Resurrection Doll/puppet”

[jikangairodo]

my son, using all of his fingers to count to 5

[jikangairodo]

Yuji reveals from his bag of goodies a sub sandwich, wrapped tightly, yet carefully to keep the meal together. It's given to Nanami with a bright smile.

“Oh?” Kento welcomes the sub sandwich with a faint smile, gracefully accepting the gift. Simultaneously, his hand delves into his own bag, retrieving one of the three casse-croûte sandwiches he’d picked up on his way to the school. "Here, take this." While he harbours a particular fondness for the classic jambon beurre, Kento holds a steadfast belief that food prepared by a cherished one always tastes better.

After adding the sub to his lunch selection, Kento engages in a brief internal debate concerning the delicate intricacies of personal space. Ultimately, he decides to forego his usual reservations and reaches out to ruffle Yuji’s hair with a gentle hand.

“Thank you.”

[jikangairodo]

« Kento-san, I got this voucher for a free breakfast menu at a new bakery, but I don't care too much about it. I thought you'd give it a better use than me, so. Here. »

“There’s a new bakery?” Behind his goggles, Kento’s eyes widen in genuine surprise. “Thank you, Shigeo-kun,” he adds, accepting the voucher with a grateful nod. He will have to google the location and opening times. Maybe he’ll treat himself tomorrow morning for waking up and crawling out of bed, as he surely deserves. As he briefly imagines the delectable pastries awaiting him, another thought niggles at the back of his mind. Kento frowns, his eyes leaving the piece of paper to pin Shigeo down instead.

“Do you have something against the bakery?” No one turns down free food unless there’s a reason. His mind races, trying to discern any possible explanation. Was there an incident at a bakery in Shigeo's past, perhaps? That seems improbable, given that the place is new. Could it be something more concerning, like a health issue? “Or food, in general?”