Just as Kashimo finished getting dressed and stuffed the last few things into his suitcase, the lock rattled.
There was a click, and then the door swung open. He looked up, his hands pausing.
Kenjaku stood in the doorway.
He was dressed completely differently today: a black spaghetti-strap bodycon dress tracing a sleek silhouette, paired with red-soled heels so thin they looked capable of punching holes in the floor. His hair seemed to have been styled too, glossier than usual and draped loosely over his shoulders. Standing in the light of the entryway, he looked as though he had just stepped out of a fashion magazine.
Come on. No matter how you looked at it, he was dressed for a date.
Kashimo's gaze swept from his head to his toes, then back again, the half-folded garment suspended in his hands. He watched Kenjaku click across the floor in those heels, moving as naturally as if he had worn them all his life. Then Kenjaku's gaze landed on the suitcase at his feet.
"Huh? What are you packing for?"
Kenjaku tilted his head, a look of genuine, entirely unfeigned puzzlement appearing on Kaori Itadori's face.
He wore light makeup today, the outer corners of his eyes subtly lifted. Combined with that tilt of his head, it really did give him a little more of something than usual. Kashimo narrowed his eyes, and a thought popped into his head that even he found absurd.
Huh. Such strong mom vibes.
He lowered his head and kept folding the garment in his hands, making a crooked mess of it, the edges refusing to line up. "I'm not staying here anymore. I'm going to Tokyo."
"Huh?" Kenjaku folded his arms across his chest, walked over in his heels, and stopped beside him. He was hardly