The stillness after a mission was often worse than the chaos during it. The halls of Jujutsu High buzzed with low murmurs, but Nanami and Haibara walked through them like ghosts, detached and silent. A pall hung over the school—Kishibe's critical condition and the grim details of the recent mission had spread faster than anyone wanted.
Nanami sat on the porch just outside the training yard, knees drawn up, arms draped loosely over them. He stared out at the trees, remembering how only days ago, he and Haibara had trained there under Kishibe's blunt, exacting guidance. There were no curses now. No taunts from Gojo. Just the weight of thoughts.
Haibara approached quietly, holding two cans of soda. He offered one without a word, and Nanami took it.
"He'll make it," Haibara said, but even he didn't sound like he fully believed it.
Nanami cracked open the can, taking a sip. "Maybe. But he shouldn't have had to step in."
"It was a special grade. They were outmatched."
"Gojo made a mistake."
Haibara nodded reluctantly. "Yeah. But mistakes happen."
"They do. But people like Kishibe—they carry the burden for everyone else's."
There was a long pause before Haibara broke the silence again. "You think Gojo's blaming himself?"
"He should." Nanami didn't mean it harshly, but the words came out blunt, edged. "He's reckless. And Kishibe nearly died because of it."
They sat for a while, saying nothing, only listening to the occasional echo of footsteps from the inner halls.
"I used to think he was invincible," Haibara murmured.
"Kishibe?"
"Yeah. You see how he moves, how he fights… he doesn't seem like someone who can fall."
Nanami nodded. "But he's human. More than most of us, maybe."
"Did you know he doesn't talk much about his past?" Haibara said. "But when he teaches, it's like… he knows what it's like to be powerless."
Nanami stared ahead. "That's why it hit so hard when we saw him laid up in that bed."
Haibara let out a breath. "He's more than just a blade. He cares. Doesn't show it much, but you can feel it."
Nanami finally turned to look at him. "You looked up to him, didn't you?"
Haibara chuckled faintly. "Still do."
They fell silent again until Haibara's voice broke the stillness. "I wonder what kind of sorcerer I'm supposed to become."
"One that lives," Nanami replied immediately. "That's what Kishibe always said, right?"
Haibara looked up at the sky, expression wistful. "Yeah. Live long enough to protect people. Long enough to make the right choices."
Nanami's voice was softer now. "Then we don't waste what Kishibe gave us. We keep getting better. And we carry it."
Their conversation wasn't a resolution. It wasn't forgiveness or clarity. But it was the first step—the kind of quiet shift that marks the beginning of a deeper change.
Inside the infirmary, Kishibe still lay unconscious.
But outside, things were beginning to change.