[Okinawa, Japan]
[Umeko's Apartment > Various Locations]

Naomi doesn't say much else at that, giving Umeko a rather distracted nod and her thanks before ducking into the closet to change properly - she wasn't about to go walking across the city in the hospital clothes Von Geister had given them both, and she wasn't sure what had happened to the stuff they'd fallen asleep in. She and Umeko were, give or take an inch, roughly the same height and build, and this was hardly the first time one of them had lent clothes to the other. Heck, something of hers was probably shelved somewhere, though Naomi was too scattered at the moment to go looking for it. When she walks back out, with some simple and comfy exercise clothes, the artist gives Umeko a wave and forced smile before making her exit.

First from the room, then downstairs and out of the apartment building itself. The pre-dawn light glimmers on the horizon, signaling that the land of the rising run was about to be greeted by just that, but the population of the streets was rather sparse, and the early autumn air was as cool as it ever was in Okinawa. Naomi sets a brisk pace towards her own apartment complex, but the fast walk quickly becomes a jog, then a full-on run. She doesn't stop for exhaustion, though she's certainly tired. She doesn't stop for the lingering discomfort of the surgery either - physical or mental. It's a chance to push past that, to think for a bit, to be on her own for really the first time since this mess had begun.

When Naomi reaches her apartment (taking the old back stairs two at a time, overriding the fiery protestations of her legs), she is sticky, sore, and about ready to collapse onto her bed - but feeling marginally better nonetheless. But this was a time for packing, not lazing about, so Naomi grabs a duffel bag from a box of camping supplies that she'd wedged behind a television and gets to work. Her techniques are lacking, certainly - being primarily limited to the Garment Toss and the Compression Stomp - but that does not prevent her from getting the job done in good time. Her laptop and art supplies get packed with substantially more care, and her 'work clothes' end up needing to be tied separately to the side of the bag due to the rigid plastic armor plates, but everything else makes it into the bag without fuss.

Well... not everything else. Naomi can't help but take another look around the apartment as she hefts the bag up over her shoulder. A casual observer wouldn't even notice the sets of clothing stolen from the clutter, let alone anything else. There was so much stuff here she was loathe to toss out. She wasn't, of course. It would all still be here when Naomi walked out the door. But in a way, she couldn't help but feel like she ought to be looking for a way to take it with her. Obviously there wouldn't be room for all of it in a shared apartment, even if Naomi was physically capable of carrying the lot. That doesn't mean the thought doesn't nag a bit as she heads back outside though.

No rush this time. For one thing, the duffel bag was stuffed to bursting, and would have been pretty heavy even if Naomi was in top form. For another though, she'd gotten the run out of her system. It had been calming, in its way, but the compulsion was gone. The city was coming properly alive anyway, people scurrying to and from their jobs and homes as if today were pretty much the same as the ones to come before it. Just one more stop before heading home, and Naomi had almost half an hour to spare before it closes. The Harvest Moon noodle shop's revenue might have been hampered by its owner's nocturnal habits, but for Naomi (and anyone else in the city with a similarly demented sleep schedule) its unrivaled breakfast noodles were often reason enough to set aside a time to visit. In, order, pay, pet the lucky tabby cat, get scratched by the lucky tabby cat, get food, leave. A comforting bit of ritual, the delicious noodles acquired entirely aside.

So much to think about. It would be insane to try and process this all at once - Naomi was happy just to have it organized enough that she could properly file it away for later. As she knocks on Umeko's door, signaling her return, Naomi lets herself crack a much more genuine smile. Could she see the future? No, not at all. Wouldn't want to.

But that didn't mean she couldn't let herself feel a little hopeful about it.