[Hakari POV]
Hakari frowned as he stood in the kitchen, cooking. The last two days he had spent in the closest facet to hell he would ever want to experience. His nice clothes? Replaced with a crummy jumpsuit. His free time? Filled with the seemingly never-ending chores the dorms of the Anti-Demon Corps produced.
'This should be enough to feed everyone.' He thought numbly, fever fully extinguished. A flick of the wrist had the fried rice in the wok shift, Hakari blankly looking down at it as he worked. 'The wash should be done soon, then while it dries, I can do some floor scrubbing.'
The very thoughts were causing bile to rise in his throat, and it took all of Hakari's strength not to vomit in the fried rice, toss it, and go take a nap instead of doing literally anything else.
He about did, as well, until an uppity voice called out from the dining area, causing his stature to straighten so fast he feared his spine would slip loose and slide out of his ass.
"HAKARI!" Yachiho cried out, poking her head into the kitchen with a glare. "What is taking so long with lunch?! It's fried rice, it's not like you can make anything better!" Before Hakari could respond, to refute or apologize, she was already out of the kitchen, having made her contempt known.
Letting a breath out he hadn't even known he was holding, Hakari set the wok aside as he prepared the bowls for its contents. Yachiho Azuma had to be the biggest slave driver Hakari had ever met. This wasn't a matter that could be handled with just physical intimidation.
Yachiho was tenacious, both in her beliefs and in how she enforced them. She fully believed his place was 'as the janitor' and that despite him being the one man who could handle the shuuki without specialized gear, he was still below the actual members of the Anti-Demon Corps. Amongst the roaches, he was the one gilded in gold.
Were that the only issue, that would be one thing. Hakari was firmly okay with flipping people the bird and ignoring them, but Yachiho didn't relent. It didn't matter what it was, he could be sleeping, shitting, trying to rub one out, even just doing the chores like he was now, and she would find some way to interrupt and weigh him down with her garbage attitude.
He had initially lamented because he knew, in truth, that he had to do some chores in order to be allowed to live there. The plan had been to do the bare minimum and coax by on a half assed job. Now here he was, two days later on the least amount of sleep he's had in fucking years, spooning up portions of fried rice like some domestic housewife.
Walking out into the dining area, Sahara and Yachiho were sitting at the table. Yachiho had her arms crossed, glaring at him as soon as he moved into her visible range. Sahara, as usual, was resting her head on the table and snoozing away. He had figured out, along with Yachiho being a major bitch, Sahara had some sort of sleeping disorder. Something like narcolepsy plus combative sleepwalking.
He set the bowls of food down in front of the two women, the sound of the ceramic meeting the wooden table waking Sahara.
"Thanks for the food!" Sahara said cheerily, as if she hadn't been passed out, and began eating. Turning to leave, Hakari stopped as the blue haired bitch cleared her throat.
"You need to work on your attitude." She said, picking up the fried rice. "You may look like a delinquent, but you aren't gonna act like one when here, understood?"
Hakari, not trusting his ability to keep his mouth shut, just nodded his head and started walking again. He only got a single step before Yachiho spoke again, far louder.
"THIS IS DISGUSTING!" She bellowed, and Hakari felt the bowl of food thunk against the back of his head, his cursed energy control the only thing letting him sell the visage of someone not hurt by such an action. Yachiho shot to her feet, marching to plant herself in front of him, sneering at him from below.
"How a man like you has ever been able to make his way in the world I'll never understand." She began, finger poking his chest indignantly as she ranted. "You've done nothing but laze about and fuck up the most basic of household chores."
"You forgot to do the laundry, and then after I graciously reminded you, they ended up all tinted pink cause you didn't separate the colors!"
"You can't sweep or scrub the floors to save your life, I constantly find old stains and dust bunnies everywhere, you aren't nearly thorough enough!"
"And apparently you can't even fry fucking rice, right?! It tastes like burnt plastic you fried an egg in!"
Hakari's gaze was set firmly above Yachiho's head, looking out into the middle distance as he took the verbal lashing. Talking back, in his experience with this, only made her louder and talk longer. The more he weathered, however, the more he could feel his head filling with static. A nap sounded so fucking nice right now, he was focused more on not yawning rather than whatever shit this smurf haired midget had to say to him. Until now.
"I noticed your wedding band." Yachiho said, face twisted into a smug smirk. "Considering your awful ability to do anything worthwhile, I'm guessing she left you. Sad she was stupid enough to fall for you in the first place, but I guess seeing is believing."
The mention of Kirara, even if not by name, let Hakari drift into the back of his mind for a moment. Why did Kirara fall for him? He could figure it was physical attraction. Maybe it was just proximity? The more he thought of them though, the more he understood. He had thought of this before, and he certainly would again.
They were both outcasts. Kirara was more of a traditional one, being born in a body that wasn't what they were. He, on the other hand, was an outcast by circumstance. If the old heads in charge of jujutsu society hadn't felt the need to keep their fists clenched, if they hadn't looked down on him for his technique, or on Kirara for their identity, then they wouldn't have ever been a problem.
Kirara and him would have never gotten together either. His mind flashed with their love again. Casual walks at night after hitting the bars. Watching the cherry blossoms. Curling up together to watch a movie.
His heart pumped a little softer at the memories. He never stopped missing them. He sent a gaze down to the wedding band, only to have his vision shift against his will, a stinging sensation washing over his cheek. He turned his attention back to Yachiho, whose hand was off to the side, having just slapped him.
"There's your attitude again, not paying attention to me when I'm talking to you." She said, resting her hand on her hip. "You do realize you're just the caretaker, right? Everyone in this building ranks above you. I don't care if you're the first man to have a peach, you better start knowing your place or I'll be sure to discuss with Chief Tenka about your inability to follow even the most simple commands."
Even the blow, which he hadn't used cursed energy to dampen, was nothing compared to the memories he was lost in. As was usual for Hakari when he slipped into his memories of Kirara, he thought about what they would do in this situation. His heart ached as he imagined it. Not about Kirara whooping this blue haired girl's ass until she was brain dead, but the scolding he would get afterwards.
He may not care if people talk down on him, or put their hands on him, but he could see in perfect clarity how Kirara would cry over his lack of self-respect. He moved his head back to its original position, and Yachiho seemed to take that as acknowledgment of her words.
"You ready to behave, and actually start trying, caretaker?" She asked, leaning forward slightly, her smug attitude still present on her face.
"Nope." Hakari said easily, watching Yachiho's face slacken before he walked around her rubbing his face where he had been slapped. "Go talk to the chief, see if I give a shit."
Yachiho spun to keep looking at him. "You'd throw all this away that easily?!"
"Seems so." Hakari said, walking back into the kitchen to clean up.
Yachiho stomped in after him, leaving Sahara, who had already fallen back to sleep, in the dining room by herself.
"Well, I'm telling you not to!" She shouted, as if that would get her way. She fumbled for a moment, realizing how childish she sounded there, and backpedaled. "Leaving won't do anything for you!"
"Eh, I'll figure something out." Hakari countered, turning to give her his full attention. "Sounds like you'll miss me though, if you want me to stay around so much."
"I don't!" She rebutted. "I'm trying to explain to you how if you don't shape up you won't have a place here!"
"What if we make it a bet?" Hakari asked, gears turning in his head. "We have a little spar, just like I had with the chief. You win, I do what you want, no complaints. I win, I do what I want, no complaints."
"Deal!" Yachiho said, smirking as if she had already won. "I'll beat you into submission and help you recognize your place in this squad, as the caretaker!"