It’s a simple text:
I’m coming. 15 min. I bought smokes. IU
Shoko stares down at her phone and blinks. It’s the only remotely positive text message she’s received in the past twenty four hours, the other few being between her and Suguru deciding on a location to meet and an unanswered message from Satoru only saying ‘I couldn’t do it.’ Utahime is a welcome reprieve.
Ieiri rolls herself out from the well-worn spot in her bed, and instinctually grabs for the pack that sits on her nightstand. It’s light as she picks it up and as she opens is unsurprised to find it empty. Frankly, Shoko cannot count how many cigarettes she’s had over the past two days, since the news first broke about the massacre. The cigarettes never really helped, and she naively thought talking to Suguru would be that salve. No, instead it only dug the wound open wider. Still, no matter how many times she uses reverse cursed technique to repair any damage to her lungs, she can’t forgo the addiction aspect. She pockets the empty package anyways and shakes her head: had Utahime actually known she would be out or was it just decently good timing?
By the time Ieiri makes it to the front gates of Jujutsu Tech, Iori is there. Her already loose pigtails seem more tossed than usual. “Did you run here all the way from Kyoto?”
“No,” Utahime rolls her eyes, tracing where Shoko’s eyes go and her hands move to tamp down the flyaways, “I got on the train this morning when I heard.”
“Oh,” Ieri’s voice is hollow and she can feel as much. Of course it is the obvious answer as to why she’s here, to offer condolences or apologies, or whatever someone is meant to do when another’s best friend massacres.
Iori sighs, fidgeting with the long sleeves of her outfit as she does, “Right…” She moves to leave, shaking her head and muttering to herself. Suddenly, she turns and Ieiri barely blinks before Utahime is in front of her now holding out the cigarette package.
“Figured you’d want this,” she offers out and Shoko takes it with a half-hearted smile and lights one. The first drag feels like a relief—she would say a breath of fresh air but technically it was quite the opposite.
“Thanks, Utahime. I appreciate it.” It’s clear that Shoko means each word she says—the last person to buy her smokes had been Geto and he now had become the reason for her distress.
“I just figured you’d need it, or someone,” Utahime hurries through the sentence and waves her hand as if it were such an easy sentence.
Despite herself, Shoko quirks a small smile and takes another hit, “You think I need someone?”
“Not like that!” Iori’s cheeks turn as red as her outfit before she clears her throat and continues, “Just that everyone was wondering how Gojo would be dealing with everything,” she visibly grimaces even saying his name which only makes Ieri laugh under her breath, “But nobody was worried about you.”
“You deserve to have someone worry about you too, Shoko,” Utahime looks at her with warmth and understanding, her hand reaching out to hold onto hers as added assurance. Shoko welcomes the touch, intertwining their fingers together.
Iori’s hand is warm in hers, and at another time perhaps Shoko would think on it further. Perhaps she will consider later what it means that their hands felt so natural laced together. For now, though, she gives her hand a light squeeze and offers a simple, “Thanks.”
She knows she should talk about it—can already envision herself giving this advice to Satoru in a few weeks, even—but to broach the topic now feels as if she were pressure-testing a barely formed foundation. It is far easier to smoke in silence and focus on the feeling of Utahime’s thumb rubbing circles against the back of her hand.
Finally, Utahime breaks the silence, “Do you have anything today? Missions? Classes?”
Shoko laughs softly and sadly, “Nope. No classes, Yaga’s not in the place the be teaching right now anyway. And no missions; for once the higher ups decided to be kind. Gave Gojo and I a few days off.” She steals a look over at Utahime with a slightly conspiratorial expression, “I think they’re scared we’d join him if we’re out in the field again so soon. Keep us close and maybe they’d convince us to stay.”
The words sit between them before Iori asks, surprised, “You wouldn’t actually go and join that murdering idiot would you?”
“And deal with all that effort and hassle? Fuck no,” Ieri tosses her cigarette butt down into the dirt and stamps it down with her foot.
Thankfully, Utahime laughs a bit at that, “So does that mean you can't leave here for the time being?” Shoko watches as another blush creeps across the young woman’s face, “I was going to ask if you wanted to grab some dinner, but sounds like you’re pretty trapped here.”
To that all Shoko could do is smile with more life in her eyes than she has had in days, “You really don’t think that between Satoru and I they’re more worried about me, do you?”
As if to make her point more clear, Ieri begins to drag the other girl away from the school, away into what could only become a better night with a beautiful girl holding her hand, “So what sort of dinner do you want? Hear you're supposed to do something nice for a first date.”
Iori is left only sputtering and blushing as they continue to walk, but does not object to it either. And for the moment, that is all it takes for Ieri to feel certain things will be alright.