Haru gave Reiju delightful vibes as early on as their sewer adventures. She wasn't very confident in what she had to offer the party, but it wasn't every day that a girl proclaimed picking up a bat for the purpose of bludgeoning zombies so brightly. And wielding an axe for stress relief? Such spunk. Good for her, good for her.
But what really sparked Reiju's fondness was the discussion surrounding Haru's garden back home. First, domesticity of that nature was beyond Reiju's scope of understanding outside of the very basics; there was always a certain novelty to learning about what members of the party felt or did that didn't align with traditional military values, because she had been a soldier all her life. Second, Haru's painting of her relationship with her late father reminded Reiju of what her dearest brother had endured between the strict expectations and cruel restrictions at their own father's hands. Her heart was further stirred when, third, Haru started talking about cooking.
As royalty, Reiju was prohibited from engaging in common labor among other displays of humanity. Fear kept her in line as a child, and she grew into her mask with a wry smile over the years. Cooking was less of a personal interest and more of a meaningful memory associated with her beloved mother and estranged brother, who represented everything good in their otherwise rotten family. Here, she could argue that she was cooking for the sake of surviving and completing the mission, so she wasn't disobeying her father's rules by dabbling in a lesson or two. In doing so, a part of her felt more human than the self-preserving killer she felt herself to be. Haru did Reiju a great kindness that day, even if the latter didn't show it, but she did impress that her reasons for not cooking so much in the following weeks weren't due to disinterest (and rather her own hang-ups in tandem with the pragmatism of limited ingredients).
So it concerned Reiju to hear that Haru was harboring growing insecurities about her place in the party. Reiju had grown up playing the role of an exemplary child soldier; the feeling of not measuring up wasn't something to which she could relate, but she had seen the crushing misery of it in her brother. Kind people were conscientious, and that led them to shoulder disproportionate guilt where it shouldn't exist. Haru's insistence to be left behind if she became dead weight on the bridge bothered her, and Reiju's proposal was pitched in part with Haru in mind. And look what Haru went on to do—she proved everyone wrong by rescuing Gojo. Good for her!
Even so, that didn't stop Haru from trying to shoulder more. Reiju didn't want to condescend by forcing rest on her (she doubted it would've worked, anyway), so she insisted instead that they take turns as equals. Haru meant well, but Reiju hoped by the end of it all that, going forward, she would let herself rely on friends some more, because she deserved all the love and support.
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Haru gave Reiju delightful vibes as early on as their sewer adventures. She wasn't very confident in what she had to offer the party, but it wasn't every day that a girl proclaimed picking up a bat for the purpose of bludgeoning zombies so brightly. And wielding an axe for stress relief? Such spunk. Good for her, good for her.
But what really sparked Reiju's fondness was the discussion surrounding Haru's garden back home. First, domesticity of that nature was beyond Reiju's scope of understanding outside of the very basics; there was always a certain novelty to learning about what members of the party felt or did that didn't align with traditional military values, because she had been a soldier all her life. Second, Haru's painting of her relationship with her late father reminded Reiju of what her dearest brother had endured between the strict expectations and cruel restrictions at their own father's hands. Her heart was further stirred when, third, Haru started talking about cooking.
As royalty, Reiju was prohibited from engaging in common labor among other displays of humanity. Fear kept her in line as a child, and she grew into her mask with a wry smile over the years. Cooking was less of a personal interest and more of a meaningful memory associated with her beloved mother and estranged brother, who represented everything good in their otherwise rotten family. Here, she could argue that she was cooking for the sake of surviving and completing the mission, so she wasn't disobeying her father's rules by dabbling in a lesson or two. In doing so, a part of her felt more human than the self-preserving killer she felt herself to be. Haru did Reiju a great kindness that day, even if the latter didn't show it, but she did impress that her reasons for not cooking so much in the following weeks weren't due to disinterest (and rather her own hang-ups in tandem with the pragmatism of limited ingredients).
So it concerned Reiju to hear that Haru was harboring growing insecurities about her place in the party. Reiju had grown up playing the role of an exemplary child soldier; the feeling of not measuring up wasn't something to which she could relate, but she had seen the crushing misery of it in her brother. Kind people were conscientious, and that led them to shoulder disproportionate guilt where it shouldn't exist. Haru's insistence to be left behind if she became dead weight on the bridge bothered her, and Reiju's proposal was pitched in part with Haru in mind. And look what Haru went on to do—she proved everyone wrong by rescuing Gojo. Good for her!
Even so, that didn't stop Haru from trying to shoulder more. Reiju didn't want to condescend by forcing rest on her (she doubted it would've worked, anyway), so she insisted instead that they take turns as equals. Haru meant well, but Reiju hoped by the end of it all that, going forward, she would let herself rely on friends some more, because she deserved all the love and support.