Shoko set down her chopsticks across from him, gently dabbed the corners of her mouth with a napkin, and looked up at him:
"Nanami got hurt?"
"Yes, an abdominal injury."
Qingxiao stood and picked up the coat draped over the back of his chair, a barely perceptible trace of self-reproach in his voice:
"Sorry. I said I'd stay and finish this meal with you.
You were right to worry. I was too careless."
"Don't say that."
Shoko stood too, reaching out to gently catch his wrist.
Her fingertips still held the warmth of the teacup she had just been holding, pressing warmly against his skin. Her voice was calm but carried weight:
"No one can watch every step of a jujutsu sorcerer's mission. You're not a god. You can't nip every risk in the bud.
He's a Grade 1 Sorcerer. He can make his own judgments, and this isn't your responsibility to bear. Stop taking everything on yourself. You've already done enough."
She sighed and picked up the coat hanging nearby, draping it over her shoulders with the resignation of long habit, but without a trace of complaint:
"Come on. Time for overtime again."
Supporting Kento Nanami's right arm, Qingxiao walked him toward Jujutsu High, one step at a time.
Kento Nanami pressed his left hand against his abdomen, a dark, wet bloodstain spreading across his suit jacket.
Yet his back remained straight. If not for his deathly pale face, he would hardly have looked injured.
"You really know how to make trouble for Shoko."
Qingxiao spoke first, easing his grip on Kento Nanami and avoiding the injured side of his waist:
"We were having dinner. The chef's special sea urchin rice. I hadn't touched a bite, and you ruined the whole thing."
Nanami coughed, his voice slightly hoarse:
"Sorry