View source for 2026-06-01: Broken Lid

*'''Log: Broken Lid'''
*'''Cast:''' [[Umie Akabane]], [[Kurou Ryouhara]]
*'''Where: Umie's Apartment, Shibuya''' 
*'''OOC Date:''' June 01, 2026
*'''IC Date:''' November 18, 2012
*'''Summary''': ''Kurou has been working hard at school, so Umie sees no better way of rewarding this than with a home-cooked meal of nikujaga. However, her attempt at giving Kurou a taste of normalcy is tested by the demons the two of them carry.''

----
 <Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem>    It started with the consideration Umie had, when Shiryuu was over. Of all the things Kurou would likely appreciate, 'a home-cooked meal' may be especially high on that list.
    
    The consideration never got further than that, because Shiryuu and Umie started making out on the kitchenette floor (UNINTENTIONALLY) and yeah.
    
    &gt;&gt; hey how do you feel about nikujaga sometime? you've been working hard with your studies
    &gt;&gt; we can also get takeout, whatever you feel like
    
    Umie had considered some senbei jiru, but she'd have to go out of her way for the hotpot crackers, and even if she settled for more widely available Nanbu Senbei crackers, not everyone &#42;likes&#42; dealing with crackers in their hotpot. (... Plus, it wouldn't taste like Obaachan's.) 
    
    She can still make nikujaga. In fact, she'll still make it on another night, if Kurou opts for takeout instead.
    
    The plastic bag crinkles as she sets it on the only available counter space. As Umie puts her hair up into a ponytail and rolls up her sleeves, she frowns as she considers the logistics of how to handle this. Right, she can sort and chop the vegetables first, then...
    
    The process flows smoothly, as all things do when she's thinking off the cuff, all until...
    
    "... Tch, this knife's dull as hell..." Umie pops the side of her thumb into her mouth as she goes to the bathroom for a bandaid.
    
    Eh, a little bit of iron won't hurt anybody, right?
</poem>

 <Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
The difficulty of someone like Kurou is that you can't ask him a question and get an answer if he doesn't know what it is. But Umie remains wise in the way of handling ninja, and comes to an answer without having to ask.

&gt;&gt; nikujaga?

One is left to wonder what the minutes long '...' means until Kurou finally answers.

&gt;&gt; I would like that

Tragically, seeing his face in the moment would probably not have been any more enlightening, given Kurou's nature.

There is no need to take any detours on the way to Akabane's apartment, he decides. No, it would be better to be back sooner than later. But while the lure of a warm meal may expedite his arrival, it is not enough to dull his own edges -- unlike Umie's kitchen knife. He returns in his usual way: as unobtrusive and quietly as possible.

That might be how he seems to suddenly in the kitchen once Umie returns to it, already mirroring her kitchen preparation by having copied her hairstyle in gathering his own into a full ponytail instead of a half one.

There is a whetstone on her counter that wasn't there before. Kurou sharpens the blade with practiced precision.

</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem>    Nikujaga &#42;is&#42; pretty much comfort food; it's hardly something you'd just buy at someplace to eat.
    
    Like something your mom would make... for... you.
    
    Umie stared at the three little dots as Kurou thought, her own thoughts moving in a river that slowly flowed towards an ocean of deep despair. Sure, her mom didn't cook much when they came to Sumaru City, but before that, it was a staple because it was so easy to make.
    
    But Kurou's situation is so much different. Should she explain, or let him come to his own understanding?
    
    Thankfully, in that time, Kurou responds, and Umie breathes easy.
    
    Now, as Kurou comes into the kitchen, he'll hear the sound of water running in the bathroom at the other side of the kitchenette wall. A carrot is on a chopping board, half chopped, with a dull, cheap knife just smugly lying there at the scene of its own crime.
    
    No matter; a quick wash, dry, and a bandaid, and Umie's back in the kitchenette, startling slightly at Kurou's sudden appearance, but adjusting quickly. That is simply how a Kurou is. "You don't have to--"
    
    Wait, no. Umie considers, slipping a strand of blonde hair back behind her ear. "Would you like to help?" umie he is sharpening that knife, that may be a yes
    
    But asking seems to be the better option, letting him feel welcome even if it's a small space. "If you can chop these potatoes into chunks, that'll speed things up." She considers, tapping a finger to her chin. "Hm... what else do I need to get out... oh! A drop lid! I know I have one stashed away someplace..."
    
    Getting out a stool, she stands on it and peers into the small storage cabinet, reaches in. ".... Rightttt..." Reaaccch. "Here!" The wooden lid comes tumbling out as it's dislodged from its forgotten corner, flopping down to the ground. "Gh!"
</poem>

 <Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
A smug knife that is about to be corrected for its crimes in swift decisiveness. Clearly, Kurou has wasted no time ensuring the edge is sharp, for the carrot remains just as it was, half cut, not rolled even a fraction of a centimeter from where it was last left.

"A dull knife is more dangerous, Akabane-sa--... ah..." Kurou pauses, glancing over his shoulder and gaze slowly fixating onto Umie's bandaged finger. It dips a little before he returns to his task. His motions are no less measured, but there is something just slightly lingering about the sharpening stroke. Is... is the knife being ''punished''?

But when it comes to being asked directly to help, Kurou gives Umie a little but firm pair of nods, his pupils growing a fraction in his interest.

"It will be done," he says, and his focus is immediately onto the potatoes. He takes only a moment to consider their shape and, judging via the size of the carrot pieces, determines the ideal measure of a chunk and gets to work.

It could never be said Kurou isn't skilled with a blade. Though, potato gives much easier than flesh...

Thankfully, his alert shoots back up as Umie's elongated speech suggests a moment of strain.

The wooden lid tumbles, but does not hit the ground...

... because Kurou whirls around and stabs it in the air, against the nearest wall.

He stops, looking from lid to Umie, and with a speed that might be described as ''sheepish'', slowly priest the blade from the lid and offers it back to Umie.

At least he didn't stab it all the way through...

</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem>    Hearing Kurou speak up about the knife's dullness nets him a half-grin from Umie, as she considers the bandaid on her finger. "Maybe it's angry that I haven't used it that much... in another life, it could have been the blade of a samurai. But now, it's been recycled into a cheap knife I got out of a bin."
    
    (Nnh. Umie can also see that her nail is chipped; she's going to have to fix that later.)
    
    Looking up from her nails towards Kurou 'punishing' the knife, Umie doesn't comment, despite how tempting it'd be, considering her mild amusement. Kurou isn't Shiryuu; his earnest, direct nature must be treasured for what it is, not teased.
    
    "Get the eyes out too--" Umie starts, then corrects. Kurou likely gets what she means, but still, she has to make sure she clarifies. "The... buds. The skin's okay, though. I think it adds a bit of earthiness."
    
    Kurou's watchfulness over Umie's condition is rewarded; when the lid tumbles out, it is expertly dealt with (though thankfully not all the way through, for her landlord's sake).
    
    Turning on her stool, she considers the lid, and the newly sharpened knife being given a chance at redemption for its past crimes. 

    Seeing Kurou's sheepish correction, Umie cracks up as she gets down from the stool. "It's fine, it's wood." She &#42;does&#42; peer at the spot on the wall where the lid was pinned against, but finding no mark, gives Kurou a thumbs up. "We're clear. Even out of a supernatural domain and you're this fast? You make me jealous, Kurou-kun."
    
    Okay, a little teasing is okay. As a treat. 
    
    "How are you on onions?" Umie gets out an onion from the plastic bag. "I also managed to snag from snow peas. Your choice on which ones you want to handle."

</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
"Patience is a valuable lesson," Kurou says, though is it to Umie, or her knife at this point? Knives almost certainly have a soul to someone like Kurou.

And if it has been patient to be wielded, it is being wielded now. The edge is corrected into sharpness, and it is put to use striking its foes (vegetables) and not its master (Umie). The second she mentions eyes, Kurou immediately and deftly scoops out at the divets to ensure all scrap of sprouting is expunged from their meal. 

The skins remain, in all their earthiness and nutrients.

Then he interrupts his role as sous chef to attack a pot lid.

His eyes regain some light as Umie determines no true harm done, and he pauses before clumsily mirroring back her thumbs up. This sounds like they can still make nikujaga today.

As for his reflexes, though...

"If you wish to hone you reflexes, there are a number of drills I can assist you with."

Umie has likely spent enough time with Kurou to understand the sincerity in that offer. Kurou is attentive to make dangerous... but teasing is still one that sails overhead, never to be seen again.

"Onions," Kurou confirms, prepared to accept the vegetable for butchery-- er, chopping.

He could not face Shiryuu later if he let Umie suffer the stings of sulfenic acid.

</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem>    Kurou does get it, decimating the eyes with a frightening level of skill (not really, Umie's just glad she doesn't have to cut them out herself).
    
    The drop lid, however... it is dealt with just as efficiently. Seeing the light return to Kurou's eyes, Umie lets out a small cackle.
    
    "It's okay. I get like that too, during the Dark Hour. It's always good to be safe than sorry."

    At Kurou's offer, Umie briefly considers. That &#42;would&#42; be a good idea; her proficiency's been getting dull lately as she's leaned more on her magic, as opposed to her skills in hand to hand combat... "I'd like that, as long as it doesn't get in the way of your studies." Or work, but Umie... can't bring herself to treat that casually.
    
    It'll only be a matter of time before the two of them have to face off against one another in battle. She and Kurou promised each other they'd take it seriously, but as she goes on, can she really?
    
    .... She has to. Not just for herself, but for the people Kurou is also fighting. 
    
    "... Pick a night," she adds, after a moment of thought. "I'll make sure to be around."
    
    That, at least, is sincere, even if teasing has its own fun when done with Kurou, especially as it's led to a new bit of potential bonding.
    
    "Alright. Use the sink if the fumes get to you." Umie, waiting for Kurou to turn her way, offers the onion out. 
    
    Surely there's still a risk he'd cry from the fumes, being that it's just a bodily reaction, but so many things remain in the dark, for Umie.
    
    What makes Kurou Kurou? Is it fair to ask him, as he's having a piece of hard-earned normalcy?
    
    She hesitates a moment in thought, then places her idle hands to work in destringing the snow peas. "Didn't you say something about Amamiya-kun coming over?" she asks, instead, in lieu of a proper topic. "You two get along pretty well." 

     Soon enough, it'll be time to begin cooking. Getting done with the beans, Umie gets out a pot and sets it on the burner.

</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
Better safe than sorry. Kurou nods simply, quietly, and returns back to his brutally efficient cutting.

"Such drills will be important for me as well," he says, without needing to pause to focus on his task. But then he ''does'' pause for a moment, looking over toward her. "... It will not interfere, but... Akabane-san. Added protection to your life is more important than studying."

It seemed... important to say, somehow.

It is also part of his work that Umie be watched and safeguarded, but that muddles the issue of what 'work' means to Kurou. He is a shinobi. That work is the life that he lives, and its principles the ones he lives by. If there is a contradiction, he has yet to encounter it.

Will such an inevitable battle be that contradiction? So far, Kurou has expressed nothing but the confidence that it will be fine. Two blades will hone each other for future battles, including the ones where they stand next rather than across. 

Is it that simple? This is a boy who does not even know enough of normalcy to realize he craves it, let alone ask for it.

"Tuesday."

It could be any night, but Kurou finds himself compelled by a sense to let the nature of today linger before leaping into it. (... For a day. It is still Kurou.)

He nods to the sink in acknowledgment before cutting into the onion -- far slower than he had the potato. Kurou must be more cautious with this one, for it will meet aggression with aggression. Is everything a battle? ''Yes.''

"Yes. I was finally able to make him the tea I promised." Kurou stills again with his thoughts before the blade in his hand continues, refusing to chop while his thoughts are not clear. "He listens well, but speaks little. I... know how that is. I hope he has spaces where he can speak."

Could Kurou provide such a space? The idea is not without warmth, but it is not as important it be Kurou as it is that Ren have such a space at all.

What Kurou can provide is chopped vegetables, cleanly and evenly cut, and neatly sorted upon the cutting board rather than getting new receptacles for each. That this lowered his available cutting space overtime, evidently, didn't stop him.

</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem>    Umie would be lying if she said that Kurou's words didn't make her feel some admiration for his dedication, as well fondness for how he applies himself to it. She gives him a smile.
    
    ..... But still, Umie Akabane can't let it stand.

    There are times when Umie would have been blunt, pointing out that this arrangement will end someday, and he owes it to his future self to take advantage of what he has in the here and now. On the other hand, It feels painful to remind someone like Kurou of that, like reminding someone enjoying the sight of sakura blossoms that one day they will wither. Someone like Kurou likely knows that sense of impermanence better than Umie.
    
    A kintsugi bowl was once a bowl. Now it is that bowl, but changed.
    
    Instead, Umie combats it with another sharp blade of logic. "By improving yourself, you become better at the things you need to do. That includes your mind." Apricot pink nails stand out against the green of the snow peas as she sorts through them. "It's important to me, too."
    
    That felt important for Umie to say in the moment, though she's unaware that a similar feeling moved Kurou.
    
    "But a night or two... or even three? I think it'd help us both. So. Tuesday, then? Sounds good." .... oh god what is she inviting, he just stated a night just like that
    
    As Kurou recollects Ren's visit, Umie grins as she finishes de-stringing the snow peas. "I'm glad. I shouldn't be the only one who gets to benefit from your tea-making skills."
    
    There was a time and place where Umie had every intention of using that drop lid. She was going to cook her own meals every day, and save money. She'd make friends, work hard, and never look back. Then, Umie actually looked at some apartments, the price ranges, and how many of them didn't even have kitchens. It was the first splash of cold reality she was going to recieve, of many.
    
    Now, the lid will be used, injury and all, and Umie thinks it just makes the lid more &#42;hers&#42;, for it will always remind her of this moment. One battle, hard won, but not through her efforts, but Kurou's. 
    
    "He's a lot more quiet than I was at his age." _Umie, you're like three years Ren's elder_ "He's always more interested in hearing what we have to say than vice versa." Her eyelids lower, as she begins heating the cooking oil. 
    
    The oil begins to sizzle; with some chopsticks, she begins putting in the sliced thin pieces of beef. "I hope so too. It's no fun, to feel isolated."
    
    The beef cooks, and she stirs it around. "He seems to be surrounded by good friends, though."
    
    And Kurou? "Have you got any friends you've made at Kasaugayama? They're a pretty colorful bunch."

    She looks up, adding, "I'll need the onions in a sec, when you're ready with them."
</poem>

 <Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
Perhaps knowing you won't always be able to admire the sakura blossoms makes it all the more important not to spend that time lamenting their transitory nature. Or perhaps Kurou's unable to fathom the concept of true stability.

It's only ever been a thing that breaks. The bowl is changed... but, by some miracle, still gets to hold water.

Studying as important to improve the mind. Kurou, again, takes one of his brief pauses to let the thoughts flow through. They also have to keep their minds sharp for surviving the hour that isn't and the places that aren't.

"... It will not interfere," he repeats, a little quieter for the new gravity of it.

His eyes lighten some to have a night confirmed. Or even two or three. They will be able to be stronger, for all they must survive.

It is good, to be able to survive.

Food is part of survival, too. But eating dinner in front of the TV changes food. Having coffee at a cafe changed it, too. Even Ren had said something similar about Kurou's tea, and Umie, too: that even his own discerning mother might appreciate it, because it was his.

And this nikujaga...

He can't remember the last time he was so excited to have a meal.

"You listen well too." Perhaps that is why she and Ren get along with one another themselves...? 

He watches as the meat cooks, and for some reason feels like he's going to remember the sizzling for a long while.

But Ren, quiet as they are, surrounded by friends... Kurou gives a blink of what constitutes surprise for him. "... That makes sense." It ''does'', but to be aware of it is a sudden moment of recognizing where he and Ren suddenly differ greatly. Ren has a much easier time with such things.

And now he's being called out on it.

"Ah..." Kurou hesitates, remembering the confrontation with Thorn Boss and her gang over the time he spent as Tsubasa's warden. Hostility and even fights aren't uncommon, but...

"No. Hirano-san is from Gekkoukan, and Amamiya-san is Shujin." Kurou's head tilts toward the side as he readies the onions. "... I never asked Niko-chan."

Truthfully, he suspects she might have a different situation. Maybe she went to Kasu once before...?

</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem>    'It will not interfere.' "Then..." Umie begins, sensing the quiet in Kurou's voice, "should I call you sensei, then? Or shall I go with &lt;teacher&gt;?" 
    
    It's a tone that may fly over Kurou's head, playful, smug, delighting in the contrast and unexpected switchup of roles. 
    
    To Shiryuu, it's one liable to drive him up a wall, in more than one way. Thankfully, here, she's doing it not to do the same to Kurou, but express a certain protective care for her 'roommate'.
    
    The things they do for one another, even if they're simple acts... 
    She thinks of the tea, or the white band of silk threads on Shiryuu's wrist.
    
    'Because it was from you.'
    
    Home-cooked food was something Umie craved the more her family drifted apart, unable to conciliate the differences between the multiple realities each of them faced, and the lies sold. The Order was a generous, caring organization that paid for all of Umie's medical expenses following ____.
    
    'You listen well too.'

    Umie looks up, surprised. "I think I talk more than I listen, most times." She gives Kurou a half-grin. "But with so many interesting people around me... how can I not?"
    
    Hirano-san. Hirano-san. There's Yoko Hirano, but there could be more than one, right, even at the same school? "... Yoko Hirano-san, by chance?" 
    
    And... Niko-chan.
    
    The onions clash in with the beef, making the sizzle heighten in volume. Surely not Niko, from Strega... but would someone like Kurou have even more reasons to befriend someone like that? "Okay, the potatoes and the carrots, next," she says, instead. "Get 200 millimeters of water, next."
    
    Not Niko. _Not Niko_.
    
    ".... There's... someone in Strega, named Niko," she says, quietly, as the ingredients are placed in, like the mirin, and the sake, along with the water.
</poem>

 <Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
Kurou easily shakes his head at the idea Umie should grant him a title for his efforts (that what it is, right?). "I meant what I said that it is more akin to mutual practice."

The way she's saying it, though... ah, is this one of those situations he is supposed to respond differently, and let her have her fun...?

There is a wisdom to Umie that Kurou recognizes, but does not have enough of his own to properly define. The 'fun' is part of it. The other...

"But your talking is like listening."

Even he recognizes that might be something of a nonsensical statement. It, nevertheless, feels true to Kurou. Umie Akabane is someone who will say something because she listened and is responding to what she heard. And Umie Akabane is someone who will say something because she heard what he didn't say.

Kurou confirms the Hirano is Yoko with a soft and simple, "Mm." She herself said they were friends, so they must be. It's convenient for his own assignment to watch after her.

But the matter of Niko-chan...

Dinner's symphony continues, joined by new smells that mix and mingle together as Kurou watches. His fascination is communicated by the intensity of his attention, broken only by Umie asking for the water to fetch.

Stega, Umie says, and nothing about Kurou's manner changes as he rises up from confirming the water's measurement to the bottom curve of its meniscus.

"I see," he says. Strega. ''That'' makes sense. The pieces fall together with uncomfortable ease. And Niko still sought his help, despite being with Strega. That's telling, too.

"Hm. That may complicate our promise to each other. But it will not break it."

</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem>    'But your talking is like listening.'
    
    Because it's from Kurou, it makes sense. "...." She gently chews on this thought in her mind.
    
    Whether it was flooding the Phantom Thieves with as much useful wisdom as she could think up, or arguing with Shiryuu, or chatting and sharing memories with Tamaki...
    
    Deciding to cook for Kurou, because she realized that would likely be the thing he'd respond to the most.
    
    "Like your silence is like talking," she says back, turning the worlds back around. "Amamiya-kun's, too," she adds, to cycle back to that point, as well as Kurou's concerns.
    
    The water is poured in, forming the base of the broth that follows, with the sugar, the dashi, the soy sauce, the sake. Slowly, it builds to a boil, where the trusty drop lid is grabbed. "Okay, this should fit just right inside..." 
    
    Thankfully, unlike her finger and the lid's entrance, this goes smoothly.

    As the drip lid is put in and the heat is lowered to a low setting, Umie nods with a self-satisfied smirk "So, about twenty minutes, and it should be ready. The snow peas shouldn't take long..." Wait. One burner. "We'll just do that at the end."
    
    So. Not only does Kurou know a Yoko, he also knows a Niko.
    
    With the flavors of the vegetables and meat slowly harmonizing, Umie lets out a sigh, letting herself consider the matter. "... I guess it's.... not that much different from me and Shiryuu...." She waves a hand vaguely, trying to encapsulate the complex matter of her relationship with the onmitsu. "Though that is... maybe not what is going on here..." Stop trying to ship Kurou with someone, Umie!
    
    .......... wait, why did she assume Niko and not Yoko, is that saying something about her
    
    "I'm just assuming here. Not every Niko is the Niko I know from Strega. Was she..." She gestures vaguely, trying to indicate some physical indicators of Niko that she can remember. "About... your age? Maybe a little older?" How old &#42;is&#42; Niko, anyway. "Did she carry an Evoker with her?" Why would someone show that off to people blindly, even someone from Strega?! "Did she mention her friends being a thin pale guy with pale hair? Or a scarecrow looking guy in a hoodie? Or a redhead in a lolita dress? Or... a guy who carries around bombs?" WHO DESCRIBES THEIR FRIENDS THIS WAY, UMIE
    
    please help her out, Kurou
</poem>

 <Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
A silence that is like talking...

"... Is it?" Kurou considers this. Ren's silence still feels different from his own. There is a power in it that Kurou does not think he shares. But is there ''a'' power in it, at all...? 

Water bubbles and boils until the sound of it is muffled under the lid and quieted into a simmer. Twenty minutes. That is hardly any time at all.

It is, unexpectedly, suddenly something like forever.

"You and the shirogarasu...?" Kurou says, his attention wandering back from a dinner future to the conversational present.

Does the assumption say something about Umie, or something about Kurou?

Kurou starts to nod at Niko being his age, with an Evoker. But his head stills, and he blinks slowly at Umie's description of other members of Strega. They never discussed the company Niko keeps otherwise.

"... She is very... pink." Her hair is pink. Her skeleton costume was pink. That's not, necessarily, an overwhelming amount of pink. But Niko ''feels'' pink. "She likes scary movies and dancing."

Is this helping?

</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem>    "Like communication," Umie explains, as she adjsuts the burner to encourage boiling. "Sometimes it's the things we don't say that say the most." 
    
    Like cooking, or the times when Umie looks at Shiryuu, wondering what he's thinking about, if anything at all. "Like how you and Amamiya-kun get along, even if you two aren't saying that much."
    
    ... Or how Mai-chan's silence was sometimes more of a curse than her presence, even when she began to exert more of a cynical, sarcastic tone that found itself taking root in Umie herself.
    
    (... Don't think about Mai-chan, Umie Akabane.)
    (Don't notice the tiny pale fingers slipping up between the space between the metal pot and the wooden lid.) 
    (Pompom, pompom, goes the palm against the underside of the lid. Let her out, let her out.)
    
    Chopsticks cruelly stab that space, briefly flipping the opposite side of drop lid upwards, flicking droplets of hot boiling water into the air against unwary skin, if Kurou isn't careful.
    
    Stab, stab. Umie looks up, casually wiping a bit of cooling water off her cheek. "You okay? Sorry if I splashed you there." She smirks, as she taps her chopsticks in the air in demonstration. Taptap. "A piece of carrot was going to escape~"
    
    It was nearly enough to draw Umie away from what Kurou says, on the subject of her and Shiryuu.

    "The Shirogarasu?" The white crow...? Wait. "Makes sense, with how he's wearing white all the time... But... yeah. I think it's safe to say... we're in a, uh, relationship?"

    ..... Why is there a question mark at the end of that sentence, Umie Akabane
    
    The subject of Niko, however, Umie takes much more seriously, as Kurou begins to lay out those clues. An Evoker, about his age, and... very pink. ... Umie doubts Kurou is talking about Yukari, and Evokers are rare for someone to just have.
    
    "That's her," Umie says, with a sigh. "... Just... be careful, okay? If she is, in fact, who I'm assuming she is..." Then what? Tell him to break off his friendship with someone who may not have any, outside of Strega? What does Umie even know about Niko? And again, wouldn't Umie be a giant hypocrite to just say that, when she's doing the same thing associating with Shiryuu and Kurou?
    
    "What is the promise you mentioned? If you don't mind telling me."
</poem>

 <Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
Kurou taps his finger to his lip as he is left to chew on that idea further. As a shinobi, it is important to hide information well and keep secrets. To be 'seen' by a foe would be dangerous. However, to be 'seen' by someone like Umie... or to enjoy silence with Amamiya...

"I do not make sense to many people." He is self aware of that much. "... I do not want to not make sense to you."

Even with so many things about him still deeply tucked away.

(Even with so many things about Umie still deeply tucked away, trying to crawl from under the pot lid, begging to be free.)

Kurou straightens with a flinch as the chopsticks strike, and the way he pivots and brings up his covered arm to catch the droplets with all the gravity of poisonous acid is fluid in its reflex. 

"... I am fine," he tells her, but his eyes are on a drop upon Umie's cheek before she wipes it away. Kurou curls his fingers in, nails against his palm, before he finally pulls his eyes back to the pot.

A 'relationship', Umie calls it. Kurou blinks at her again. What else... would it be...? (Kurou, are you getting the nuance here at all, or...)

"Yes. You have said you like him just as he is. And you are important to him." To be protected above all else. But... Kurou isn't supposed to say that.

Wait, so does he get it?? Or doesn't he?!

As for Niko, Kurou does not contest the need for care. "I understand." It is a delicate situation... it always was, but more than he realized. But what he told Niko remains true, regardless of the rest of the situation.

"... She and I are the same. Changed. She thinks we can be okay again. I... am not sure. But I will help her try."

What that entails is not yet clear.


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem>    '... I do not want to not make sense to you.'
    "Ooh, double negative," Umie says right back, with an amused half-grin, before continuing with a softer tone. "You make sense to me, Kurou-kun."
    
    There's a lot she doesn't know about Kurou: his past, what created the way he is now, the nature of the Ryouharas and what makes them who they are, but Kurou, the quiet boy who makes tea, someone who became lost when Shiryuu seemed to be dead and gone, who reached out to her when she felt similarly lost.
    
    But is it because Umie doesn't know Kurou's entire past that allows her to falsely think that? Would she say the same if she knew?
    
    In spite of that, and the restless skeleton that lurks in his soul, Kurou is kind, just as, in spite of the shrieking crow in hers, Umie still works at a konbini, biting her tongue like any proper worker would when a customer is rude.
    
    Are either of them fine, in any way?
    
    Kurou's actions mostly sneaky past Umie's awareness, due to how focused she was on punishing that offensive 'carrot', but now that she has her attention on him... Was the way he flinched a result of his training, or something else? She can't keep looking at him and still act like it was a casual gesture, as guilty as she's beginning to feel. "You and I are... people, with things inside us. Not the same things, but deep things. We've adapted, in our own ways."
    
    Kurou may be more true to that sense than Umie is; despite him having more context, she still complusively acted like nothing had happened at all.
    
    ".... He is important to me." Kurou may not get it, but it may not be something he needs to 'get', when he gets the gestures behind it all. "But in a different way than you are important to me." She'll say that, and see where that leads Kurou.
    
    'She and I are the same. Changed.'
    
    .... oh. _OH_. That's... what it's about, isn't it? Yoko was different, if in a harmless, sweet way, while Niko... is Niko. Kurou wouldn't see a reason to treat either of them with anything but kindness.
    
    He and Niko connect in that way. "It's easy for us to drag others with us, when we think there's an answer. I'd let Shiryuu know, just in case, if that happens."
    
    Slipping the pot off the burner, she puts on some water to boil for the snow peas, slipping them in to boil for a few minutes. "You have a deep kindness in you, Kurou-kun. I'll trust it, in regards to Niko."

</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
A double negative from Kurou is fairly rare, for someone who tries to choose his words carefully and clearly (and often, through this, achieves the opposite -- but that's neither here nor there). His brow scrunches to have it pointed out, unaware it was born of his own focus on something he felt more deeply than usual he needed to avoid.

"Oh. It is."

Kurou, drawn to kintsugi, clearly yearns to piece broken shards back together. But if he has shattered, he has not yet spoken of the fall of his past, or the crash at the bottom. Perhaps it was more of a tumble down a long staircase.

But the skeleton refuses to be buried, and does not have to be fine to prowl the night.

Kurou's gaze dips as Umie compares the two of them. "... Yes," he agrees. "It seems so."

Umie Akabane is a kind and warm person. It does not seem fair if she has also had to fall and crash.

"Mm. I think you are important to me differently than you are important to him," Kurou notes easily. So ''does'' he get it...? He is back to watching the pot, eyes dilating in his growing anticipation despite the gravity of their conversation. 

But Niko. She is like him, and he is like her. It feels almost like... a coin, flipped on its head. One who cannot smile. One who smiles too much. A skeleton with a permanently grinning skull. A daughter of strife with an empty stare.

"... I would like it if she were right," Kurou admits. But he nods to Umie. "I do not intend to keep secrets from him." This issue may come along with what Kurou decides is a secret and what isn't.

Accused of kindness, Kurou's eyes lose focus. He absently presses his thumb into his palm, and turns it to run the nail gently over his skin. A blade is neither cruel nor kind. It strikes with pragmatism toward a goal.

"I do not think that is true. It is people like you and Niko-chan have been kind to me."


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem>    Umie really shouldn't laugh, when Kurou's brow scrunches, so she instead pushes it behind a grin. She understands a little of why his wording was the way that it was; Kurou is many things, but when it comes to words, he is not careless.
    
    To say this instead of something more direct means that there is a reason.
    
    "But it makes sense." Within the whole that is Kurou, that she's seen, in this space where she is relaxed, and not guarded.
    
    'It seems so.' That, too, is an intentional choice.
    
    There are massive differences between them, Umie reflects. As distant and uncommunicative as her own mother is, Umie's mother is not in prison. Umie could, at any time, pick up the phone and call her. (And yet she doesn't, nor does her mom call her.)
    
    Umie has a basis of normalcy that has persisted, despite everything Umie's done to subvert it.
    
    She needs to be aware of it, and how these moments that she extends to Kurou may mean, to him.
    
    "Yes. It's like that." Kurou seems to understand that much, at least, and it may be all he really needs to understand. 
    
    Kurou voices a want without being asked; Umie pauses, registering how important that is, from someone like Kurou. "For her, or for you both?"
    
    The accusation of kindness may have been a step too far, and its existence may be due to the difference between the two of them, Umie thinks in hindsight. 

    Maybe she'll take a cue from Ren, instead of telling Kurou how he should feel.
    
    "... Why do you think that?" The tone in intentionally neutral, as she puts the snow peas in a bowl of chilled water, and lifts up the drop lid, testing the potatoes and carrots with her chopsticks. Satisfied with how soft they are, she adds, "Could you get out two bowls? I think we're done."

</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
Kurou does not always understand why Umie smiles -- or even laughs, though she resisted today -- but it is part of what makes up Umie's warmth. It is better, when people can smile and laugh how they want to, when they want to.

Regardless, he still made sense, and Umie still understood. So even imperfect speech is not rendered incoherent when someone is listening...

A mother from a ninja family who makes herbal tea and that Kurou worries he will not impress. Whether that is Kurou's own insecurity or one handed to him has yet to be seen. Even this moment of a home cooked meal, meaning so much to him, obscures -- for now -- if it's because normalcy was broken, or because normalcy is foreign.

Shiryuu and Umie seem normal enough to him, at least.

More important than the ''what'' is the intensity. And Shiryuu's feelings for Umie are clearly very, very intense. Yet Kurou still remains plagued by the instinct he's not supposed to say that out loud to him or to Umie...

So. It's 'different' for now. And that's good enough.

As to his own wants...

"... Both." Yet he looks to his nails, pushing at the cuticle and chipping at the older polish. They're blue for now. But he'd been thinking of trying gold. Like kintsugi... 

Whatever uncertainties and hesitations have entered his thoughts do not find a way to piece themselves together. Instead, there is the matter of kindness. Why does he think that? 

"Kindness is a luxury. But I do not mind, as long as a bloody knife can keep other hands clean."

His demeanor makes a subtle shift as Umie declares dinner is done, eyes alike and body quick to fetch bowls. So quick that if Umie should glance back to the pot, it may seem as if Kurou has materialized with the dishware, his eyes gone nearly puppy-like again.

</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Umie Akabane has posed.
<poem>    Why does a blackbird laugh? What is the meaning of 'a blackbird smile'?
    What is a shirogarasu?
    
    So much of Kurou is a mystery, but unlike a mystery of a lock, Kurou is a person. If the past several months have taught Umie anything, the matters with which Persona Users have to deal with, no matter a Kurou or a Katsuya or a Tamaki, they are as delicate and individual as Umie's own.
    
    Of course, that Umie may present some mystery to Kurou itself, as well as to the nature of what her relationship with Shiryuu is, is something Umie hasn't realized.
    
    She is, after all, a normal, boring adult (she does not actually believe this!!).
    
     'Both.' Umie's chopsticks lower. How like Kurou...
     
     "I hope so, too." Her eyelashes lower as she looks towards the pot. "Maybe that's why they're all looking towards that thin, pale guy for guidance: her and that bomb guy, or any of the others."
     
     She makes a decision, as she taps an apricot nail against the countertop. "If you need help, or need me to feed information to a group, let me know. I'll want to respect my alliances with different groups, but sometimes... you need someone who at least knows how to appear 'normal' to get information."
     
     As for kindness...
     
     It's not as cruel a response as it could be, in some ways. What can she say to that, and to that face? Smugly say that killing is wrong, just because Joker was effective in making an impression on her? Only a coward would let herself be influenced so easily, when matters like that sometimes are far more complex.
     
     If people where in danger, what would justify her own inaction, especially if it meant someone else would keep their hands clean?
     
    And there Kurou is, with bowls in hand, with a look that stands opposite what subjects they were just talking about. 
    
    Umie smiles. "Let's eat, then, eh?"
</poem>

 <Pose Tracker> Kurou Ryouhara has posed.
<poem>
Is it possible that the world is a place where Kurou understands Umie and Shiryuu's relationship better than the two of them...? It can be an absurd reality, but surely that must be too much.

Kurou's eyes set back on Umie with a quickness of surprise. He hesitates, but makes his own decision as he nods. He is to protect Umie, but... Umie has her own things to protect, as well. "... Thank you. That may prove necessary. Niko-chan would have sought my help if Strega's guidance was providing what she needed."

Strega may prove an enemy on multiple fronts. But that's fine by Kurou. 

Kindness... Kurou is not one for unnecessary cruelty, but that does not kindness make. Tending to the material needs of a prisoner, delivering a swift death to a foe, or testing the conviction of those who must face greater foes...

None involved would see him as kind. Kurou has no inclination to think they should.

To make Umie does not completely withdraw into herself after a brush with the NWO, or to see Niko restored to the self she misses, or to play skeleton hero for terrified children... that must be something different.

But those thoughts seem to all but evaporated as he stands before Umie, bowls in hand, with yearning for nikujaga in his eyes.

''Let's eat,'' she says, and Kurou nods emphatically.
</poem>
[[Category:Logs]]
[[Category:Season 1]]
[[Category:Season 1, Episode 2]]