Chapter Text
Nobara wakes up with a start.
The first thing she notices is the light - thin and pale, leaking in through the blinds, slicing across the room in uneven lines. The second, is that her throat tastes like iron. Usually this only happens when she eats too many oranges in one sitting, or when she has to swallow her blood in the case that she’s bitten her tongue.
The third, someone’s talking in the hallway. Muffled, too far away.
She turns her head - or tries to, anyway. The motion feels slow, as if she’s dragging her skull through mud. The fourth thing she registers in her mind, is the antiseptic smell that makes her stomach churn.
Doctor Ieiri is there. Standing by the window, a cigarette between her fingers, half-burned. The smoke curls toward the ceiling, ghosting against the faint moonlight. Her face looks pale in the glow, tired, hollow.
“You’re awake,” she says, softly.
Nobara blinks. Her lips part, though the only thing that comes out of her mouth is a low, weak, “Yeah.”
“How do you feel?”
Her answer is instant. “Like shit.”
Doctor Ieiri laughs. “Makes sense,” she says, taking a puff of her cigarette. “You almost died.”
That lands somewhere in Nobara’s chest. She doesn’t answer. She’s thinking about her near death experience - the hit that sent her flying, her bones and skull cracking as her body hit the concrete, and the way the world went gray before it went black. The curse she was fighting was about to finish her off, but it failed to do so.
Because someone came.
“Almost,” she mutters.
“Well.” Doctor Ieiri drops the cigarette into a tray, snuffs it out with two lazy taps. She turns to Nobara then, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. “What were you thinking, going in alone?”
Nobara looks away. Her jaw tightens. There’s a line of light cutting across her blanket - she stares at it instead, because it’s better than directly confronting her feelings.
Doctor Ieiri sighs, long and tired. She’s tired, too. Everyone is. Of her. “You knew you couldn’t beat it by yourself.”
Yeah, thinking logically isn’t really my biggest forte, Nobara says in her mind, not particularly throwing the jab at the doctor, but whatever.
She doesn’t know what to say to that, so she stays silent. Her fingers twitch at her side, nails catching at the edge of the sheet. She’s just painted them, dark orange, a match with her hair colour. She knows Satoru likes it when she dresses up for him, all pretty and his.
For a while, there’s nothing. Only the faint hum of the air conditioner and the distant footsteps in the hall. It’s late at night.
“Gojo asked to see you, once you woke up,” Doctor Ieiri says.
Nobara’s head jerks slightly.
“He said immediately,” Doctor Ieiri adds, voice unreadable. “Is this somehow connected to him?”
Nobara swallows. “No.”
The doctor’s eyes flick toward her. She doesn’t say anything for a second, watching and searching Nobara’s expression intently. “Alright,” she says finally. “Do you want to meet him now? He’s just outside that door.”
It’s two in the morning, Nobara thinks, he can’t even let me sleep first?
“Thank you, Ieiri-san. For taking care of me.”
“No worries,” Doctor Ieiri waves a hand away, a lazy smile on her lips. It turns sour not long after, eyebrows frowning up and lips scowling. “You’re worrying me, Kugisaki.”
Pause. “I’m sorry?”
“I said, you worry me.” Doctor Ieiri pushes away from the wall and now stands beside Nobara’s crib. “You’re not in the dorm often, are you? And don’t lie to me, because I know you always come back very late at night and then disappear as fast.”
Well, that’s because I’ve been living in my teacher’s apartment. “I’m sorry, Ieiri-san. I don’t understand what you’re trying to say.”
“I’m saying don’t get yourself involved in some serious trouble,” Doctor Ieiri replies, looking away from her, outside the window. The wind is chilly, and the aircon makes it even colder. Nobara doesn’t know why she’s not turning it off. “Fushiguro told me something interesting. Pleaded to me that I look into it.”
Oh, fuck, oh - “Ieiri-san, I’m afraid I’m not getting your point.”
Doctor Ieiri huffs. “Fushiguro’s not the one to beg, you know? Of course you do. You’re his dearest friend.” Nobara’s lips part. The doctor only shrugs. “His words, not mine. But I was saying, he told me, quote unquote, there’s something going on between Kugisaki and Gojo-sensei. And I have to risk asking this to you knowing full well he might be listening,” she gestures towards the door, mouth forming a whispered Satoru. “But is it true? Is there something going on, something I should worry about?”
Crap, fuck my life, fuck my stupid, stupid life. Nobara shakes her head, trying her best to stay calm. “Fushiguro saw us at KFC together and immediately assumed the worst. I don’t know what’s wrong with him. He’s usually not that kind of person.”
A beat. Doctor Ieiri is staring at her, stripping her down. She’s dissecting every micro expression Nobara might make. Nobara doesn’t lose the stare-off contest, though. She’s done this a lot of times.
“Fine, if you insist,” Doctor Ieiri sighs, slumping down. “I have so much to do. But I will still look into Fushiguro’s claims, because I am also worried about you.”
Nobara sits up, wincing at the sudden discomfort and pain. “You don’t need to do that, then. I’m perfectly fine, can’t you see?”
“I know you’re fine. It’s my work after all,” Doctor Ieiri tells her. “But I know Gojo well enough to know he has something up his sleeves. Might be related to you, mightn’t be. He’s been acting weird, these days.”
Weird… with Nobara, he hasn’t been doing anything out of the ordinary. He’s still as clingy, as annoying, and as smug as can be. He still sprawls on her lap after a long day and he still wants to go for another round in the shower even after they’ve done it in bed. Yeah, he’s not acting weird at all, with her.
“What do you mean?”
“He’s just… weird,” Doctor Ieiri shrugs. “I don’t know how to explain it to you. He just is.”
“Oh.” Nobara chews her lips. “Oh, okay.”
Doctor Ieiri gets silent. “You really don’t have anything to say to me?”
“Thank you…?”
“Not that.” She snorts. “You’re giving me a headache.”
Nobara’s mind short-circuits. “Uh, I…”
Doctor Ieiri cuts in. “Nevermind. Do you want to go see him? I can tell him you’re still unconscious, if you want.”
“No, I…” Nobara hesitates. “I mean, that’s not needed.”
“Alright, then.” Doctor Ieiri turns away from her, walking towards the door, sliding it open, revealing a man tall enough to tower everyone in that room. “Satoru, she’s awake.”
They exchange a few murmured words to each other, low enough so Nobara can’t hear, before Satoru’s head tips in her direction. She quickly looks away, fidgeting in her stead. Fuck, fuck, I fucked up, and he’s gonna be mad as fuck.
“Satoru,” Doctor Ieiri calls before she steps outside, “Save the lesson for tomorrow, will you? She needs to rest.”
The man only nods vaguely in her direction, which in return makes Doctor Ieiri sigh, but she’s closing the door and he’s advancing towards Nobara and she wishes she hadn’t refused the doctor’s offer.
“Stop there,” Nobara says before she can think about it, already regretting her decision. Stop there? What the fuck are you, a child?
Satoru, baffled by her rejection, spits, “What?”
“I mean, you heard what Ieiri-san said,” she stammers, hands already shrugging away the blankets covering her. “Save, uhhh… the lesson for tomorrow.”
He chuckles, then, lightly. “Nobara-chan, I’m not here to give you a lesson.”
She frowns. “What are you here for?”
His quick strides make it so that it’s impossible to stop him from coming closer, and by the time she blinks, he’s already beside her, leaning over her. “Why, to check up on you, of course.” His hand comes up to cup her cheek, and she jerks away, reflexes more than anything else. He pouts, hand left hovering in the air. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I am,” she answers, defensively. “There, you got your answer. Can I go now?”
It’s silent. His hand continues to seek her, but this time it’s wrapped in her jaw, and he twists his grip so she’ll look at him through his blindfold.
“Why did you do that?”
He asks, and she knows he’s not asking why she flinches from his touch, he’s asking why she did what she did - throwing herself in danger just to prove a point.
They’ve had an argument just before her reckless actions. She’s been asking him to place her on a mission with either Yuji or Megumi, tired of the low-grade mission, but Satoru’s not letting her. He’s said, it’s dangerous, but can’t he think, she’s replied, your favouritism is showing. And he’s only shrugged, saying, so what? She’s frustrated, she’s fed up. He wants everyone to know about them so bad. And the reason has been bugging her mind - that is, she doesn’t know, can only guess, and it’s driving her crazy.
He’s also not letting her go to her dorm, more often than not, only wanting her to stay close to him. One time Yuji had called her to know where she went, since he was knocking on her dorm and no one came to answer. It was Wednesday night, she was supposed to be there. It’d be suspicious if she weren’t. It’s all because of him - Satoru.
“Why did I do what?” she snarls, trying to force herself away from his grip, but it’s only getting tighter, and she winces. “It was a mission.”
“A mission?” he hums. “You’re not stupid, Kugisaki. I expected more than that sorry excuse for a reason.”
She flushes, embarrassed, cheeks getting hot from his insult. “It wasn’t an excuse! I went in because I didn’t know the curse’s stronger than me!”
He huffs, dropping his hold on her jaw. She winces again, hand rising to the sore skin, half expecting to feel the mark of his grip. He drifts to the other side of the room, collapsing onto the sofa, head thrown back against the cushion. He looks tired. And spent. She vaguely remembers him carrying her to Jujutsu High, beaten and bloody in his arms.
Ah, she should’ve thanked him. If he hadn’t come, she’d be dead by now.
“Satoru,” she mumbles, legs swinging down, bare feet meeting the cold floor as she walks to him. He doesn’t raise his head, doesn’t acknowledge her. It irritates her, oddly. “I’m sorry.”
He doesn’t respond, still. She steps closer, standing between his spread legs, leaning forward so she can slip her fingers underneath his blindfold and slide it over his eyes.
He’s looking at her. Staring, watching her.
“I said I’m sorry,” Nobara tries again, more confident this time. “I was upset.”
He sighs, hands coming to rest on her hips, and before she can resist, he’s pulling her to his lap. She squeaks, unable to stop him even as he’s adjusting her limbs, her thighs on either side of his and her arms now circling his neck. Oh, no, this is inappropriate, this is Ieiri-san’s room, oh, no -
“You worry me sick,” he speaks up, fingers sliding under the hospital gown she’s wearing, meeting bare skin. She stifles a breath. “Aren’t you getting tired of it now, your antics?”
“What - what antics?” she asks him, her hands coming down to stop his, but he takes one of hers and kisses her wrist, savouring her taste.
“What, you didn’t throw yourself in danger because you wanted my attention?”
His tone is almost playful, cockiness coloring his grin, but his eyes are… there’s nothing behind them. Just an endless ocean of unlimited void.
“No, why would I do that?” She frowns, shaking her head. He hums in return. “I told you, I was just upset. You kept sending me to do low-grade missions alone. I wanted to go with Itadori or maybe Fushiguro.”
He doesn’t reply right away. But she feels it, the tension that rolls through his body before his hands tighten imperceptibly on her hips.
“Hmm,” he hums, noncommittal, “But still.”
Her heart skips, and she snarls, just to hide it. “Still what?”
He leans in, brushing his mouth against her temple, his breath warm when he speaks. “You don’t need anyone watching your back.”
“You watched me,” she reminds him - that if it weren’t for him, tonight, she’d lie six feet underground.
“Anyone else,” he adds, and they land like a warning to her.
She swallows. “You’re not my - ”
He pulls back, looking at her properly, and she can see the faint curve of his mouth, that infuriating calm and cockiness painting his face. “Not your what?”
She doesn’t finish; doesn’t think she can. She knows whatever answer she gives will only make him twist her words back at her.
“You want me to put a name on us, Nobara?” he asks, putting her in a tough spot. She tries not to chew at her lips and fails. “Is that it? Is that what this is, why you’re so eager to have yourself killed? What are you trying to prove, exactly?”
“I’m not trying to prove anything,” she murmurs, lying, they both know it’s a lie. Her throat feels dry. “And I’m certainly not eager to have myself killed, or put a name on whatever shit we’re in right now,” she says it, finally. It’s been gnawing at her since.
“Then what do you want?”
I want to go home. I want Saori. I miss Fumi.
“I don’t want anything.”
And I want you to stop.
She jumps as he throws his head back in mock-exhale, the slightest flicker of annoyance coloring his expression, and she wonders if she’s hallucinating. “God, you frustrate me.”
Her eyebrows go taut, frowning. “Yeah, I frustrate you so much you can’t wait until the morning to see me,” she replies, tone snarky, in that Kugisaki Nobara way - she feels it coming back, her sharper self.
She starts moving to get away from him, but his hands on her are as tight as they ever were, and the more she resists on his pull, the firmer his grip becomes.
“Let go of me,” she demands, glaring at him. “I’m tired. I want to rest.”
He doesn’t respond, doesn’t even blink. It’s almost uncanny how he’s staring at her so intently, as if he can obliterate her with his eyes. His hand, though, is an entirely different matter - they slide up, up until his finger rests on the waistband of her panties, and he tugs.
“Come with me?” he asks, less a question than an order. “You sleep better in my place.”
She scowls, ignoring his finger drawing circles on her hips. “And how would you know that?”
“Oh, I know that just fine,” he sings, grinning, that stupid, godawful smile. “I know it very well, in fact. Should I demonstrate it here?”
Her breath hitches. “No,” she thinks she heard herself say. But Satoru’s not the type to listen, this she knows as much. “I’m tired. I wanna sleep,” she mumbles, looking up at him, batting her eyelashes in hope he’ll drop the subject so she can go back to her tiny, safe dorm room.
Silence falls, if only for a minute. Then he speaks up again, softer now, quieter: “I miss you.”
Her jaw goes tight, muscles constricting her windpipe as she processes his words one by one, by characters, by the meaning of it. I miss you, he said. He misses her.
When she meets his gaze, she knows he’s not lying. There’s that undeniable sadness again, crowding his pupil, making him look small, worn, almost forsaken - something unloved. His charm shouldn’t work so effectively with her, especially if she has any kind of self decency, but it’s hard to keep the charade up when she’s forced to choose between her own peace (which ultimately will lead to his demise, because, God, she swears he won’t function without her) or his peace (which arguably will lead to her demise instead, since she’ll have to give, give, and give, until there’s nothing left of her by the time he’s done).
If anyone asks Nobara something like that just two years ago, when he hasn’t wormed his life into hers, she’ll have a definite answer: her own fucking peace, because why care about someone you barely know? Why prioritise other’s feelings when you aren’t content with yourself yet?
But this is Kugisaki Nobara two years later, Kugisaki Nobara who holds on to Yuji’s stupid words about seven (hers in August, his in December), and Kugisaki Nobara who has no spine to reject her pathetic, grief-stricken of a teacher.
Kugisaki Nobara who feels absolute guilt for his sorrow, even though she’s entirely unrelated in the making of it.
“I’m tired, Satoru,” she says, pleading her case, hoping he’ll understand.
He’s not answering. Finger tugging more at the cotton of her panties, down, down, and she stops him before he can go further.
“I said I’m tired,” she chokes it out, voice straining, not able to contain the ache of her heart as he keeps pushing through every barrier she’s laid between them. “Can we not do this now?”
“But I miss you,” he murmurs, pulling her closer with one hand on her back, her chest flush with his. She suppresses her shudder, ignoring how it tickles every inch of her nerves. “I want to be with you.”
She glances at the clock, the needle says two twenty seven - in the morning. She’s incredibly tired, her muscles aches, and she just got out of a near-death experience, avoiding the danger by getting rescued by him. Instead of feeling grateful, which she supposedly should, she just feels guilty, for allowing herself to get into that position where he can hold the fact that he saved her over her head.
Her thoughts are interrupted as he runs his fingers through bare skin, digits dipping low into her cunt, finding her dry. Nobara’s relief is palpable on her face - her body doesn’t betray her. But then he scrapes his nail against her clit and she gasps.
“Satoru - ” she whispers, breathless, clinging to him, arching her back. “It hurts.”
“Let me have this,” he mumbles, lips touching her neck, the vibration of it making her shiver. “After what happened, Nobara, God - ”
She remembers it clearly, now, clearer than ever. Her body slamming into the solid concrete as her bones crack, her skull splitting open and blood running out of her head, her hair, her limbs twisting helplessly as she tries to crawl away. It’s a stupid idea, she’d thought, and she still thinks so. Because why did she go through with the mission even after she knew the curse she was about to fight was no ordinary curse?
He’s right. She is trying to prove something, she just doesn’t know what yet - or she does, and she doesn’t want to acknowledge it, the coward she is.
“Satoru,” she calls out his name again, softer, gentler.
“No,” he says immediately, snapping at her, the child he is. “No, let me have this. Let me, okay?”
She bites her lips, not answering. His finger swipes at her clit again, starting the sweltering heat inside of her, coddling and slow.
“You don’t know how scared I was when I found you,” he confesses, voice dripping with that edge of woe, that if Nobara isn’t careful, she’d mistake that as something genuine, something true. She knows more than anyone that he’s not capable of that, it died long ago with his best friend, the only one he supposedly loved. “You were on the ground,” he goes on, quieter, “I thought - I thought you were gone. I could see your bones poking out of your skin. There was just so much blood around you, y’know? So much of it.”
She snaps her eyes shut, willing the image to go away, the phantom pain still lingering to perish. The words shouldn’t matter - he shouldn’t matter. They’re small, harmless things, light enough to vanish if she breathed too hard. But they don’t; they linger, instead, like smoke curling under a locked door, making their way in.
He’s saying something else, now, soothing, almost kind. She catches it, in fragments: don’t scare me like that again, his finger, free from her attempt to deny him, goes on and on, rubbing at her center with steady intensity, a rhythm he knows works well for her. I can’t lose you too. And against her better judgment, she feels it, the budding arousal forming into something physical, her wetness releasing fluid into the cotton of her panties.
I can’t lose you too.
It should’ve been comforting, but dread is all that she can feel, accompanying the tightening knot on her belly, making her feel worse. His voice lands as a weight pressing against the inside of her skull.
She blinks, once, twice, mouth watering. The world tilts, just slightly, and she feels herself recede, he’s tugging her backward by the nape of her neck.
His eyes are unguarded, staring into hers. She’s looking at him, but the focus drifts.
Her eyelids start to drop, eyes heavy with sleep. This is comfortable, she thinks, I can fall asleep like this. This is nice, he smells nice, and everything else blurs around her.
Until he abruptly pushes a finger into her, and she retches.
“No,” she chokes out, that inscrutable apprehension coiling on her stomach, where she only feels burn and pain and hurt. Both emotionally and physically.
She wasn’t ready. “It burns,” she quakes, voice small as a mouse. “Get it out, Satoru.”
He hums self-assuredly. “Hm? But this is how we’ve always done it, right?” His finger moves inside of her, curling against her inner walls. The burn gets brighter, hotter. She stifles a whimper. “This is how you like it.”
No, it isn’t, the words are stuck in her mouth. Her head is heavy. She tells herself, this is fine, you’re fine and everything is going to be fine. She’s not sure if she believes it herself, her words. He keeps talking, voice threading though her, some kind of warm static, patient, impossible to escape.
“Don’t do that again, yeah?” he asks guilefully, and she makes a tiny noise in her throat, confused - she doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Only, he clarifies not too long after: “Don’t endanger yourself like that, ever again.” This is accompanied with a second finger going in, and her stomach lurches, the burning still hot and intense in her cunt.
“Satoru,” she warns him, but it’s weak, it’s small, she’s weak and small and she’s not Kugisaki Nobara at all. “It hurts, please - ”
“You didn’t answer my question, that’s rude,” he drawls, amusement curling in his tone.
What… what was the question? A dense fog fills her mind, dulling the world around her as she fights not to think about his two fingers inside of her, cruel and burning. Her eyes sting and blur with tears; the pain seeps through no matter how hard she ignores it. She’s not invincible after all. She’s not him. She’s barely the strongest.
Ah, right, a thought comes to her head, he asked me to not put myself in danger again.
“Okay, I won’t,” she complies, it’s better than to enrage him further. “I won’t do that again.”
He hums, so fucking pleased, and continues to blabber on.
She tries to think of something else: of Yuji’s laugh (bright, boyish, always a little too loud for the moment, but that’s what she likes about him), Megumi’s scowl (he’d told her that it’s his natural expression, his resting face, and she’d teased him, oh you little emo boy), Saori, the ghost of her voice saying you’re too much for this village, Nobara. Promise me you’re gonna grow up and move out, okay? Make it big in the city - and Fumi, her sweet, sweet Fumi, you can come home anytime you want, you know, I’ll always be waiting for you. You know that.
Yes, yes she knows that. It’s just very, very hard to believe that with the state she’s found herself in, weak and pathetic and utterly helpless.
She tries to hold onto those things, the ones that make her feel herself. But it’s long gone, isn’t it? Every word he says peels a layer off, every touch he ignites inside of her rips her apart, and she can almost hear the sound of it - paper tearing in the dark. She’s long gone and she knows it.
Kugisaki Nobara is long gone and she knows it.
It’s strange, the way he does it. He never tells her what to think, not exactly. He just speaks, and she fills the silence between his sentences - her gasp and whimper coming out every once in a while in the intervals he’s thrusting his fingers in.
He’s good at this. She knows he is. It’s the same way he fights: effortlessly, unaffected, barely lifting a finger. No resistance sticks for long, not for him.
“I can’t lose you too, Nobara,” he repeats, and this time she feels it in her bones, a small, sharp stone. Too.
She’s not a replacement, she never has been. To Fumi, she was her only childhood friend, to Saori, she’s her best friend, but to him, to Satoru - she’s… she’s him, isn’t she? His dead best friend, his dearest Getou Suguru.
She wants to tell him that, wants to spit it out of her throat so badly, but the thought doesn’t make it to her mouth - it stays where it is, heavy and unspoken.
His thumb draws circles against her back. His other thumb rubs at her clit, torturing her, why can’t he let her have her pain, so she can hate him fully, why does he have to consider her pleasure, too? It makes it harder for her to hate him.
The room is quiet, save for her moans, save for the hum of the air conditioner. It’s really cold, she thinks, realising it now, but she doesn’t feel it, the warmth on her lower half crowding her entire self slowly.
“Come for me, please?”
He’s asking so nicely, so sweetly, it makes the sweltering tears on her eyes burst. She cries a little, head flush on his chest so she can bury herself there, hidden from him, but still close to him.
I nearly died, she thinks, resenting him, I nearly died and you saved me and now I don’t know how to thank you otherwise. So she nods, barely, breathless, mumbling against his uniform, “Just once.”
“Just one, I promise,” he assures her, kissing her temple.
It’s easier this way, isn’t it? To stay compliant. To let him win. He did nearly lost her, after all. It’s the least that she could do for him, right?
She bites her lips as he picks up his pace, and it doesn’t hurt anymore, it just feels uncomfortable, and with the way he is, she’s sure he’s going to make her come soon.
He whispers her name, once, twice, and every time he says it, it sounds more like a command. It’s that tone - the one that makes her forget the edges of things, the borders between herself and him. Nobara doesn’t know where one ends and the other begins anymore.
Maybe there’s just no line left. Maybe that’s the point.
She lets out a particularly lewd noise when he curls his fingers inside of her, rubbing against the spot he knows beyond doubt will make her twitch, will make her squirm on his grip and will have her gasping for air. Her hands fist on the fabric of his uniform, head dipping low as she dares not to meet his gaze, unable to meet him in her pathetic attempt to scorn him.
“There, there,” he cooes her, gently, so soft it makes her sick. She’s burning with pleasure, heat flooding her nerves with such maddening intensity that she’s left trembling, her mind empty, the sound that escapes her too raw, too needy. “You’re close, Nobara-chan, I can feel it.”
Ugh, she hates him for always knowing - reading her own body better than her, because he’s right, she’s close, she just avoided death and her body is crumbling but she’s close to a motherfucking orgasm because she can’t deny him and stand up for herself and instead lets him use her guilt to force it out of her. Oh won’t she grow a fucking spine, she needs it, she needs it, God she needs it -
Her body reacts before her mind can catch up - a small, shattering release that leaves her boneless, molten against him, all warmth and surrender in his arms. She’s drooling in his chest, sniffles tainting his uniform, but she doesn’t think he cares about that - all he cares about at the moment is her, she’s sure, the her that isn’t resilient and tough and just pliant, sad, small thing in his grip.
“Just once,” she reminds him, mumbling, the fog thickening in her mind. She’s so tired, so sleepy, she can fall asleep like this.
“I promised,” he replies softly, too genuine for her comfort, and the dread in her stomach twists tighter. “Now sleep. I’ll carry you back home.”
Someone will see us… she tries to say, but what comes out is a hum of agreement, she’s so tired, she can feel it in her bones, hence why she doesn’t resist the sleep that overtakes her, letting her eyelids drop, letting her head fall even limper on his chest. “Okay…” she slurs, already losing grasp of the world. “Thank you… for saving me.”
He presses a kiss to the crown of her head, murmuring into her hair, “Don’t thank me. This is what I do.” He sounds so confident, so sure. How can he be so certain and so wrong at the same time? How can he lie to himself so extensively, too buried in his own false words, he doesn’t see that she can see it; she can see him?
This is what he does. He saves people. She just realises it now, how much she doesn’t want him to save her.