#nanami momozono x jirou

[sabraeal]

want your heart (to be for me), Part 1

[Read on AO3]

The last of my Holiday Gifts for the year, posted a few weeks late due to this particular fic growing COMPLETELY out of control. It was supposed to be a one shot, but since this is nearly 5K in and of itself...I decided two parts would be the best decision.

A god’s work, Nanami has found, is never done.

She spends two weeks rolling about the ocean floor, trying to untangle the complex politics of the courts of the sea gods and their tumultuous marriages, but when Himemiko’s wedding drama settles enough for the waves to spit her back out on land, she’s sure-- certain, really-- that this time she’ll keep her feet dry and nose clean long enough to make it through exams.

That is, until some sky god falls in love with Tomoe, stealing him away to her cloud city or whatever. Three days of growing wings-- painfully one bone at a time-- and nearly a week of learning how to use them all ends in a burst of shimmering feathers the moment her toes touch the tip of Mount Kurama, all her hard work amounting to little more than pillow stuffing. Two days before the test.

Her just-barely passing marks would be worth it, if only that jerk would appreciate the effort.

“Thanks again for letting me stay, Kei-chan.” Nanami’s sure to put on her brightest smile, the one that makes Tomoe choke and Mizuki sigh.

Kei barely bothers to look up from her phone. “What? Oh, yeah, no problem.”

“Really--” she sprinkles a little more earnestness on this one, teeth hurting as she keeps them bared-- “it means a lot to me! It would have been a real pain trying to get back to the shr-- home tonight.”

“Yeah, totally, I get it. You really live out in the boonies.” Her fingers fly across the keyboard, nails ticking and tacking in the same staccato bursts as a typewriter. Or gunfire, maybe, considering the amount of bodies she’s leaving behind. “It’s no problem. My parents are never home, so you can come by whenever.”

Nanami blinks. “Wha--? Really?”

“Why not?” Her shoulders twitch in what might be a shrug’s lazier cousin. “I mean, I’ll probably be on a date, but if you need a place to be...the door’s not always open, because I don’t need my stuff stolen, but it’s here.”

It’s not the first time she’s had the rug ripped out from under her, but this is the first time it’s felt like a magic trick. Sure she stumbles, but she’s still on her feet, and what’s beneath her is so much sturdier than some raggedy old tablecloth. “That’s really kind of y--”

Kei flicks off her screen like punctuation.“Ami-chan’s at the door.”

The girl’s all limbs, but when Kei sweeps up from the couch it’s graceful, in a way Nanami could never manage. Or well, in a way she’d think she’d be able to, up until Tomoe slunk in with his stupid smirk, insinuating that everything about her was so unfortunately human. “Make yourself at home or whatever.”

“Oh, okay,” she murmurs faintly from the floor, the impulse to jump up and hug her fading as Kei strides through the door. “Thank you, I gue--”

The door slams shut on any more earnestness. Knowing Kei, that’s on purpose.

“Well well, Nanami-chan,” a reedy voice pipes from behind her, more confident in its welcome than it deserves, “it’s not quite as spacious as home, but I suppose we could do worse.”

Nanami twists around so tightly she nearly wrings herself out, her limbs tangled up so hopelessly that she can do little more than gape as Mizuki paws through Kei’s bed, making himself right at home. “Mizuki, what--?”

“As much as I hate to give that wild fox any credit, he certainly dreams up better bedding than this. Is this even real cotton?” He tugs at the fitted sheet, mouth thinning out to a grimace. “Ah, well. Beggars and choosers.”

“What are you doing?” Here, specifically, but she’ll settle for any answers that wrap up before Kei can saunter back in, Ami in tow. “You’re supposed to be back at the shrine!”

“Where else would I be?” he asks her, expression rumpled reproachfully. “I’m your familiar, Nanami-chan. If you’re leaving because of that nasty fox, then I will help you settle in your new shrine. Even if it means I’ll have to cut back on my brewing.”

Mizuki’s words may be nothing but aggressive support and positivity, but the disparaging glance he spares Kei’s bedroom-- well, he could teach the mean girls at school a thing or two.

“I’m not leaving! And certainly not because of Tomoe!” There’s no sense in doing that when he’s already spending all of his time sulking in the spirit realm, punishing her for daring to enjoy a kiss. “It’s just a long walk from the city to the shrine. It’s not safe for a girl in the dark!”

At least, that’s what Ami had told her, wide eyed and trembling. It’s the sort of thing Nanami would typically wave off-- it’s hardly the first time she’s had to make that walk after the sun’s set, and it certainly won’t be the last if Tomoe’s going to bury himself in tanuki every time her crush rubs his fur the wrong way-- but Kei put her phone down, serious, and agreed. And when Ami added, especially since Tomoe is out of town with his family, for good measure, and well--

Stretching her legs outside of the shrine seemed like a better and better idea every minute.

Mizuki tilts his head, eyes narrowing until he’s more snake than human. “You’re right,” he decides. “It’s much better for you to be here. I’d hate to think what that wild fox would do if he caught you on your date.”

Nanami whips around with a yelp. “My what?”

“Your date,” he clarifies, too confident for someone living so far from reality. “With the crow god.”

“Oh, that.” She laughs, the tension slumping straight out of her shoulders. “That’s not a date. I’m just showing Jirou around the city. It’s the least I can do after he taught me how to use those stupid wings.”

They hadn’t felt stupid at the time; no, they’d felt powerful and dangerous, like she was a Real God, not just some high schooler thrust into the spirit world at the whims of a butterfly who thought she might make a good lesson for his familiar. Ha. If she’s a lesson, it’s one Tomoe sure isn’t happy to learn.

“Oh.” Mizuki pulls the sound too long; goosebumps pimple up her arms. “Well, I suppose he will be very disappointed, then.”

A strange knot knits itself in her stomach, heavy as a stone, rattling around as she shifts onto her hip, frowning at him. “What do you mean by that? This is what he asked for.”

Or rather, he’d said, I have grown curious about this mortal world. I want to see why it draws so many crows off the mountain. Same difference, if you ask her.

Mizuki stares at her. “You told him it was a date.”

Her jaw drops. “I did not.”

“You did, you said--” he pitches his voice higher, nothing like her own-- “Is that all? It’s a date!”

“I didn’t mean it like that!” she insists, cheeks burning. “It’s just-- it’s a saying. I’m sure he knows that.”

Even still, Nanami can’t forget the wide-eyed way Jirou had looked at her, nor his murmured, is it...?

Mizuki hums, unconvinced. “If you say so, Nanami-chan.”

Her mouth opens. To say just what, she’ll never know, since the door flies open at the same time, and with the reflexes of a god-- or a girl who has learned not to get caught-- she shoves Mizuki straight out the window.

Ami blinks, staring at the place he sat only seconds ago. “Did you just--?”

“Hey, keep it moving,” Kei snaps from behind her. “We don’t got all night, do we? Nanami’s got a date to go on.”

“It’s not a date.” She’s sure of that, certain, but as Kei elbows her way into the room, dropping down to her vanity with an expression that could only be called stern, it comes out much meeker than she‘d managed with Mizuki. “It’s just an old friend--”

“Whatever.” A drawer rattles open, and oh, Nanami had thought her little compact with two shades of blush was the height of luxury, but Kei’s got enough make up to glam up a small country. “You want to look hot or not?”

“Ah...” Nanami blinks. There’s glitter in there. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt...”

Kei’s the kind of girl whose mouth is too sharp for smiles, but a smirk fits her just fine. “That’s what I thought.”

“So what’s the deal?” This is the longest she’s ever seen Kei without her phone, her hands too busy dancing across an absolutely massive palette instead. It’s the sort she’s only seen in store windows to make the big ones look reasonable by comparison. “Should we take pictures of his license plate? Have Ami follow you in disguise?”

“Me?” Ami hiccups, flushed.

“Well, I can’t.” She sniffs, reaching into her vanity for yet another little plastic case. “I’ve got a date too.”

“Ah, no, that’s not--” Nanami imagines Kei flashing a phone in Jirou’s face and can’t decide whether to laugh or grimace-- “he’s a friend, I promise. That’s all.”

“That’s what they want you to think,” Kei warns her sagely, unimpressed. “But guys our age only have one thing on their mind.”

“Oh, well, he’s, er...” It’s impossible to explain that he’s an ageless being that typically sits in a hall outside of time and space. “A little older. So it’s fine.”

“How did you meet?” Ami asks, so sweet-- too bad it’s drowned out by Kei’s, “Does he have a brother? Friends?”

Somehow she doubts that either Kurama-- er, Shinjirou or Jirou would appreciate her spreading around that they were related. Or, well, whatever the tengu had going on, living on Kurama. “Through, er, Tomoe’s family.”

Ami’s eyes round. “Oh.”

“What about that guy anyway?” Kei leans back, her hand guiding Nanami’s chin this way and that, inspecting her work. “I thought you two were, you know...?”

It’s stupid how her eyes tear when she says, “We’re not.”

Kei frowns, grip easing on her jaw. “His loss then. What about this guy? Is he hot? Would it drive Tomoe nuts if you--?”

“Kei-chan,” Ami gasps, hands clapped to her cheeks. “Nanami already said that this was just a friend! There’s nothing for Tomoe-kun to be upset about, and even if there was, Nanami-chan would never!”

It would be nice to be as kind and put together as Ami thought she was. “Right,” she lies. “There’s no way he could complain about me showing our friend around, nope!”

Kei arches one of her perfectly plucked eyebrows, skepticism palpable. “Right. Now what are you going to wear?”

It takes the whole half hour for Kei to lean back, one of those dagger-point grins on her face as she declares, “Oh yeah, he’s going to choke on his own tongue.” 

Considering how she’s the only woman he’s ever met, she doubts that will be a high bar to clear. “This isn’t a date.”

“Okay,” Kei says, unconvinced, which is all she manages before the doorbell chimes, delicate as crystal. “I’ll get it.”

“No!” Nanami catches herself before she can grab her, pushing her mouth into the semblance of a harmless smile. “I mean, he’s my guest! You don���t need to put yourself out.”

A spark flares deep in the morass of Kei’s green eyes, and oh, she has made a mistake, saying the exact thing that would pique her interest. “No, no, let me.”

It’s only five yards to the door, but with both of them on their feet, it becomes a contest of inches, Kei’s sharp elbows fending her off at the same time Nanami tries to catch her ankles with a heel. It’s a tumble, really, one of them making headway before the other draws her back, over and over until Nanami knocks the phone from Kei’s hands into the couch, making a mad dash before the girl can recover.

The door’s open hardly more than a crack, but she calls out, “Jirou!” nonetheless, like she can audibly mark her territory, her smile wide if strained, and when it swings wider--

Oh.

Intellectually, Nanami had known he couldn’t walk around the mortal world in his monk’s robes and beads-- and there’s no way his wings would fit in the subway-- but still, she’s not prepared to see the former fourth Soujoubou of Kurama idling in the hall with jeans. There’s no red dabbed at the corner of his eyes either, no tabi or wings or undefinable magic something-- he’s as mortal as they come, just some guy--

A camera clicks behind her, and she turns just in time to watch Kei pocket her phone, gaping. “This is your not date?”

Oh, that’s right, he’s gorgeous too. Because the spirit world runs on soap opera rules.

“I told you, you didn’t have to take pictures!” Nanami hisses through her smile.

“This isn’t for your thing,” Kei assures her. “This is for personal use. Are you sure he doesn’t have a brother?”

It’s quiet, pitched to stay between them, but she sees Jirou glance back, brow furrowed, before his gaze slides to her. “Nanami,” he says, serious as always. “It is a pleasure to see you again.”

All she can do is stand there stupidly, staring at the way his hands flex at his side. Oh no, this is definitely a date.

“Hey,” That knife’s edge of a smirk splits Kei’s lips, one of her hands already outstretched. “I’m Nanami-chan’s--”

“Leaving!” she gasps, surging forward to drag him through the door. “We’re leaving!”

The door slams shut behind them with the force of foxfire, her hair billowing out around her shoulders as it hits the frame. With a smile grit so bright her teeth ache, she chirps, “Well, let’s get this show on the road!”

Only hours ago, there’d been a whole plan for this whole debacle. Not a solid one-- Nanami didn’t really do itineraries, and she doubted Jirou would appreciate being hurried along like a tour group-- but she’d had ideas. Tokyo Tower, maybe, or the Skytree for something more current. The art museums in Roppongi were also an option, though she thought one of the ones down by Ueno Station might be more convenient. Cheaper too, since she doubted the former fourth Soujoubou would be flush with pocket money.

But none of that is Date Material. Not that she wants it to be, it’s just-- Nanami hates to disappoint. If this is going to be Jiro’s single trip to the mortal world, then she really should try to make it special, maybe even go along with--

“I don’t understand,” Jirou huffs, coat shrugged so high it must itch his ears. “It’s a tree.”

It’s a long way down from the gallery to the mall’s lowest floor, but Nanami leans over anyway, wondering whether she could grab one of the snowflakes hanging from the rafters if she just reached out her hand. “I’d think out of anyone, you would understand how important a tree can be.”

“The sacred sakura is the source of Kurama’s life and power.” His lips peel back in a sneer. “This is indoors.”

“It’s a Christmas tree!” The bulky banister digs into her back as she turns, grinning up at him. “Don’t you guys have--?”

Slouched in his wool coat Jirou looks like any other guy walking past, but skepticism pulls his spine straight, putting him head and shoulders above even the tallest passerby. With his arms crossed and face drawn into a forbidding scowl, it hardly matters that he doesn’t have his wings or isn’t dressed in his monk’s robes-- he’s every inch a god.

Or a spirit, or-- ah, whatever tengu are. She’d never been too clear on just who made the cut for kami, and at this point in the game, it’s a little late to ask.

“Ah, right, no, you wouldn’t.” With the way time works on the mountain, Jirou might even predate the concept. “It’s from the West. It’s a night where couples go out, and--”

Her teeth clamp down, biting back the words. What’s wrong with her, mentioning couples’ holidays to the only guy who has ever confessed to her? Especially when she already rejected him for reasons-- reasons that have flitted off to the spirit world, probably to discourage her too, and--

“Are you going to get souvenirs for your brothers?” she asks, breathless.

She braces for him to scoff, to tell her that the once-soujoubou has no need for gifts, but Jirou only blinks. “Souvenirs?”

Ah, right. The tengu never leave the mountain. “When you go somewhere, it’s polite to bring back gifts. Food and stuff! A little slice of the mortal realm for everyone to enjoy.”

Only a few months ago, Jirou’s frown would have been enough to make her back track and tremble, hoping his wrath wouldn’t come down on her the way the gods were so fond of doing, But a week under his wing, so to speak, and now she knows: he’s thinking. “...Polite?”

“C’mon.” She hooks her arm around his. “There’s a store right over there.”

It doesn’t strike her until they’re in front of the novelty chocolates, Jirou standing as still as a deer in headlights, that oh yes, the man from the magical mountain might be paralyzed by choice.

“There’s so many,” he manages, strained. “How do you do this? This whole world is so distracting. It’s a wonder any one of you gets anything done with all this going on.”

Nanami leans a hip against the wall, not bothering to smother her grin. “It’s because we’re getting stuff done that there is all this.”

His mouth rounds. “Oh.”

She plucks a box off the stacks of snacks, a to-scale miniature chocolate Skytree. “Do you think this is why the mortal world corrupts the tengu? I’ve never thought about it, but I suppose we’re spoiled for choice down here. And everything must seem so fast.”

“Maybe.” He approaches the word slowly, lips wrapping around on tip-toe, as if sneaking up on it might make it easier to say. In the end he grimaces anyway, cheeks flushed. “I’ve since realized that the corruption of the mortal realm might have less to do with its vices, and more to do with its, er...”

His dark eyes flick toward her, pink creeping up to his ears before they skitter away. “Taking into account the other prohibition of Kurama, the first Soujoubou might have been more concerned with keeping his brothers from distracting themselves with the, er...mortal women that lived there, rather than any other excess.”

“Oh,” she squeaks, her own face suddenly hot. “Yeah, I guess that would be...”

“I agree.”

Her head snaps up, watching as he delicately picks up a snow globe from the shelf behind him, a small version of Ueno Park painstakingly modeled inside. “We are told that we hatch from beneath the branches of the sacred sakura. I certainly don’t remember anything before my time at Kurama. But for Shinjirou to be the Soujoubou’s son, then that means he must have...”

Jirou’s mouth pulls thin.

“Well, there must be some lady tengu, right?” Nanami can’t recall ever seeing one, but she’d be the first to admit: her sample size is small. “On one of the other mountains, maybe? It’s not like the Soujoubou...”

His steady stare is more answer than she needs, and yet he still tells her. “I heard he was a handsome man, in his younger years.”

“Ah.”

He lifts his shoulder, cheeks burning too bright to be casual. “The last century was a hard one.”

“Right,” she murmurs faintly. “I’ve heard kids will do that to you.”

An hour and three stores later, Jirou finally settles on some wagashi shaped unseasonably into sakura blossoms, sold two in a package, grimacing as Nanami shakes out the shrine box to pay for them.

“Don’t worry,” she tells him, with a smile, “I planned for this!”

He does insist on paying for the lucky cat three stores over, pulling out a stack of bills that certainly aren’t from the spirit world. “It’s for the Soujoubou,” he explains, firm. “It wouldn’t be appropriate to ask you to pay.”

“You’re bringing Manekineko onto a mountain full of birds?” Her mouth twitches as his furrows wearily. “He’ll be one well fed cat!”

“The Soujoubou likes them. Cats, I mean.” He softens as she gazes down at the bag, like he can see the figure even through the glossy paper. “He says they carry their weight keeping the mice out of the kitchen.”

Nanami blinks. “You guys get mice in the spirit world?”

His mouth hooks into a smirk. “ Whether they are made by gods or men, few things have as little respect for boundaries as a mouse.”

“Ah.” She stares down at the bag. “I guess that makes--”

The gloss shimmers as it flies from his hand, knocked back to the pavement. Nanami needs a solid second of blinking for the moment to come into focus: the bag laying on the ground, Manekineko’s box slid half out of it; Jirou standing stock still on the walkway, as if the ground was made of glass and even a breath could make it shatter; a little boy sprawled on the ground at his feet, staring up and up and up, tears already beading on his eyelashes.

“Stupid.” The mountain of a man-- of a god glares down the long slope of his nose, just as remote and aloof as Kurama itself, and Nanami stiffens, her breath caught in the heavy weight of her lungs. Even without his robe, he’s imposing, and the boy on the ground shivers the way Botanmaru used to at the very sound of Jirou’s name. She can’t forget how the little crows had all feared him, how they would flinch at even the gentlest raised hand--

“Here,” Jirou murmurs, crouching as much as a man his height can manage. “Are you hurt? Can you stand?”

“N-no.” The boy blinks, shaking his head. “I mean, yeah. I can...I can get up, I think.”

“Then there is no reason to sit on the ground.” His large hand juts out, just in front of the boy’s face. “Who do you belong--?” Jirou catches himself. “Do you have a guardian nearby? A...parent?”

“Y-yeah.” That small hand folds into Jirou’s, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. He can’t be more than six or seven, too young to be wandering alone, but too old to suffer being stuck to someone’s side. “My m-mom.”

“A mother.” Jirou’s face softens. It does things to her stomach that Nanami refuses to contemplate. “She must worry over you.”

The boy flushes, tucking his face into his shoulder to hide it. “Yeah, I guess. Maybe.”

“Come, then.” With an awkwardness that’s almost endearing, Jirou shifts his grip, holding the boy’s hand so delicately it might as well be made of glass. “Let us see if we can find this woman. Your return will go a long way toward easing her mind.”

The boy’s cheeks blow out, half a pout. “Okay, mister, if you say so.”

It takes only a minute or two to locate his mother, weighed down by a half dozen bags and on her phone, placing a frantic call to the help desk.

“Daisuke!” she gasps, clutching the boy to her, not letting him shake her off. “How many times have I told you to stay close! There’s too many people for you to go running around!”

“I just wanted to check out the Lego store,” he huffs, suffering through her kissing and scolding with belligerent embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to go far. I would have come right back if I hadn’t run into-- er, I mean...”

“Run into?” His mother blinks, and that’s when she notices Jirou, looming awkwardly a few steps away. “Daisuke!” she hisses, manhandling him into a bow. “I’m so sorry that my son inconvenienced you, sir. I promise that we raised him better than to be such a bother.”

“Ah.” One hand raises, soothing. “Please, you don’t have to explain to me. I understand. Young boys often seek out their own adventures.”

“Oh.” The woman’s eyes trail up him, from the thick sole of his boots to the fur trim of his hat-- and when she’s done, she glances over his shoulder, squarely at Nanami, before she asks, “You have children of your own?”

“No, no.” His hands wave between them, a soft denial. “Younger brothers.”

“I see, I see.” Or so she might say, but the gaze she fixes on Nanami is far too speculative, the implication so heavy she can’t help but turn away, flushed. “Go on, apologize for interrupting their night, Daisuke.”

“Sorry,” the boy informs the pavement. “I’ll be more careful next time.”

“Really, it’s no trouble.” Jirou’s voice is always heavy, each word spoken with a palpable weight, but for once--

For once, there’s a laugh bubbling beneath it, too light to be smothered by seriousness, one that sets his lips twitching, a smile haunting the corners of his smirk. Happiness.

It looks nice on him. 

It takes another ten minutes for Daisuke’s mother to be content with her son’s apologies; Jirou’s protests going unmarked with each bow and scrape. Don’t go easy on him, she insists, he needs to learn some manners.

“I think,” Jirou murmurs, humor clinging to the shadows of his words, “that maybe Shinjirou is lucky the Soujoubou did not bring his mother to the mountain. They are fearsome.”

There’s an ache in her chest, an old one, the kind that never fills but simply is grown used to, until it feels natural to never heal. “I wouldn’t know. I don’t remember much about my mom.”

His mouth is already open with his next question, but she can’t stop herself, not when the words are already struggling their way out through her lips. “You’ve changed.”

She glances up at him just in time to catch the way his eyes round and his mouth slackens, a blush blooming across his cheeks that has nothing to do with cold. “What...?” He clears his throat, and once again he’s Jirou, aloof and alone, the strongest tengu on Kurama. “What do you mean?”

“The Jirou I met a few months ago wouldn’t have helped that boy.” Her elbow pokes into his unyielding side. This guy obviously doesn’t skip ab day. Or...whatever day they trained to make what should be love handles into solid steel. “He would have just told him he was weak and a disappointment to his ancestors. He certainly wouldn’t have helped him to his feet, let alone find his mom.”

“That’s...true enough,” he admits, reluctantly. “My mind was always bent toward pleasing the Soujoubou. To living up to his example and becoming the strongest of his sons. I thought that if I became a man he could rely on, if I made the rest of my brothers as strong as me...”

That it would protect him. Or rather, their way of life. He’d explained as much, when they descended into the Thunderbeast’s lair.

He coughs, cold steaming his breath. “All those years, I worried over only the most superficial aspects of being Soujoubou. I neglected to see even the most basic truths, the ones my master had gone to great pains to show me, even as I proved over and over that I did not understand. There is more to strength than the physical. There is more to discipline than denial.”

Nanami hooks a hand around his arm, squeezing it. “It’s good that you did learn it though. It takes a very big person to admit when they were wrong.”

She doesn’t add, especially a god. She’s learned the hard way that you never know when one is listening, especially when their winds are such tattletales.

“It was you that showed me that, Nanami. I allowed my vision to be clouded by pride, and you--” Jirou glances down at her, that stony glaze softening to something almost human-- “you saved me. All of us on Kurama. Our lives have been changed by your touch, and I, for one, will never forget what we owe you.”

“O-oh.” The way he looks at her, it’s so-- so intimate, the way she catches Tomoe looking at her in the breath before he turns away. The way she wishes he would without needing to hide it. That someone would, without acting it was some great sufferance, a lowering of their standards.

And here Jirou is, giving it to her for free, no strings attached. In a way that makes her want to turn toward it, the way flowers do for the sun, unfurling her petals to bask in its glow--

It’s too much.

“Oh, is that, um--” her eyes dart over the street, trying to find something to hold onto, some flotsam in the storm of these feelings-- and she finds it. “Ice skating?”

Jirou blinks. “Excuse me?”

“Come on.” She hooks her arm through his, dragging him toward the stop light, eye fixed on where the crowd presses around Ueno’s plaza. “Let’s go.”

[edensrose]

❝ no matter how 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐒𝐇 and 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐔𝐋 my life is right now , someday . . . 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘥𝘢𝘺 , a day will come when I can 𝓼𝓶𝓲𝓵𝓮 everyday ❞

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