Yoshiko’s fingers held his utensils with an unusual daintiness. Masumi’s questioning was unintentional cruelty. He had to hold smalltalk over a polite dinner with what were essentially strangers to him. Instead, the bundle of nerves that was Japan’s leading expert on horror was stuck in a nightmare worse than death. It would have been preferable if the note he received had just been a ploy to murder him. With his murmurs, Masumi made no real direction to who he spoke to whether he meant to converse with the girl, or the boy. Vegetables and stews lined before them, and it surely seemed a great deal of effort had been placed into it, but to the oneirologist, the chef made themselves quite clearly never to have experienced a dish too luxurious in the making…

With the flicks of his gaze roaming with the rise and fall on a candle, still tagged with the price from a grocery store, the oneirologist let a utensil rest between his fingers, slowly digging into the spread before them. Purple eyes glinted in curiosity of whatever may spill out of a mouth that belonged to a person dark as he. A hat size came into the slurry of thoughts the oneirologist perceived, but the boy simply glanced on, his true intentions rather hazy. Perhaps he shall look for advice on writing realistic bouts of cranial horror. Perhaps he shall have another question revolving around eldritch horrors the mind might conjure from the depths of unconscious thought. It was of no consequence that he should share time more often with such a curious individual, and perhaps that gaze of questioning found its way onto the other. It… did seem like quite an amount… to handle another’s… emotional distress… before he could… quell his own…Īnd the dark boy, with all his pressing questions. Masumi considered consoling someone who would go to such lengths to even offer such an event to take place, but lingered on the thought. The oneirologist found the girl’s brimming grin returning less after the trials they endured. The fiery one the one who seemed to always be at bay with the rays of the sun. With his sleepy gaze returning after a meditative breath, Masumi’s gaze flitted between the pair that sat before him. What troubles he went to by simply deciding to attend…

The events of that night were excitable, nonetheless to partake in the fruition brought on by the girl with the bright eye’s ideas was an exhilarating step for the boy, if not entirely proactive outside of his boundaries. With quick, muffled breathes, the oneirologist seemed winded within the confines of his company. A Closing Supper | Chapter 3 | Nodame, Masumi, and Yoshiko

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