Chapter Text
Makoto had never had coffee before in her life. She’d never even had a remote interest in trying.
That’s so unlike you. She imagined someone would say. She also was aware that nobody at school would probably ever say that, or even notice something new in her. She didn’t have close enough friends for anyone to say something like that.
She went to a coffee shop on a sudden whim, and after five minutes of awkward figuring out of what she wanted (she had no idea there were so many kinds of coffee), she ended up getting...something. She actually wasn’t sure what kind of coffee she’d even ordered; she’d taken the suggestion of the barista after stalling up the line for about three other people for too long.
Makoto stared into her mug. It was still hot, probably too hot to try yet. Am I really that afraid of trying this? Also, why did I do this? She doodled in one of her notebooks for school, giving the appearance of someone trying to do homework when in reality her notes were mostly gibberish.
Sis probably would notice as soon as she got home. She would probably ask why she smelled like coffee suddenly, and how she’d never had it before, and how the caffeine would probably make her more anxious. Makoto didn’t want to think of an excuse.
Why do I need an excuse? It’s not like I’m breaking a rule or anything. Why do I feel so guilty about this?
Makoto knew the answer though. It was because of him. For some reason, the boy she’d been tasked to keep an eye on by the principal had enticed her to try coffee. She knew how ludicrous it sounded. Following around someone with a possible connection to the Phantom Thieves suddenly making her want to try coffee. But when she was hiding behind her magazine trailing him, she couldn’t help but notice how nice he smelled. Makoto acknowledged how strange this was, but couldn’t deny her urge to try coffee that day. It had taken a while to find a suitable coffee place, and she was grateful for the cozy atmosphere.
Okay, we came this far. It’s going to get cold if I don’t taste it soon.
Makoto picked up the cup with a shivering hand, and brought it to her lips. The smell was worth how much she paid without even trying it yet. She finally took a sip. It burned, it tasted bitter and awful, and she had to put the cup down immediately.
Okay okay, assess the situation. That’s what dad said he did. Coffee...tastes bad. But it’s not the worst thing I’ve ever tried.
Makoto recalled a school event in which a student presented a recipe she’d read online called “Mystery Food X”, which was apparently the worst food ever conceived. Makoto was curious about trying it, but could only manage a single lick of the spoon holding it before she felt like throwing up.
So coffee’s not that bad. Maybe I could learn to like it. But it’ll take a while.
“Something wrong with your coffee?” The balding man behind the bar said. Makoto yelped.
Makoto realized she’d been staring into her mug for about five minutes.
“N-no! I just...I haven’t had coffee before.” Makoto said.
The barista pushed up his glasses rubbed his chin, and to Makoto’s terror left his spot behind the bar and walked over to her.
“This might be a bit too strong for your first taste then,” He said. “Just a second.”
“N-no, you don’t have to! Honestly!” Makoto said as the man took her mug away.
“I do, here at Leblanc, I want to ensure all my customers have a satisfying experience.” The man said.
The owner started making another drink, and within a few minutes he proudly presented her with a foamy drink.
“This one’s a bit less coffee and a bit more vanilla,” The man said. “This should be more suited for your taste level. Maybe one day you’ll be ready for the tougher stuff. If you like this, of course.”
Makoto waited again for the drink to cool a little, and for her nerves to calm down. She again worked up the courage necessary to take a sip, and had a much better first impression of this drink. It still had the bitterness, but it was also sweet, and in the comforting atmosphere of Leblanc, she felt relaxed, despite the caffeine.
Makoto actually started to get some homework done as she enjoyed her drink, and felt personal pride that she’d gone so far out of her comfort zone to try something new. Just as she finished her drink, the bell of the door rang, and someone stepped in. The coffee maker scowled.
“There you are,” The man said. “I mean, I don’t care what you’re up to after school, but there’s work to be done here.”
Makoto turned and felt all the color drain from her face as she saw him standing there. Akira Kurusu. The boy she’d been assigned to follow, the boy that smelled nice enough for Makoto to try coffee for the first time in her life. I...wandered into his coffee shop?! Makoto turned quickly, hoping the boy didn’t see her.
“Get your apron on and clean up.” The man said, tossing an apron at Akira’s face.
“Sorry, Sojrio.” Akira said.
Makoto realized she’d been too nervous to even check the man’s name tag.
“I said I don’t care, you don’t have to apologize.” Sojiro said.
Akira darted upstairs, and after a few minutes returned wearing casual clothes and the apron Sojiro had thrown to him. Makoto dove into her notebook again, grateful she’d finished her drink, but also feeling even more jittery from Akira’s sudden arrival and the caffeine in her system.
“I’ll take that for you if you’re finished.” Akira said.
There was something in his tone that felt like he’d plucked a string inside Makoto. She nodded quickly, and immediately packed her things and left, feeling a sudden bout of terror come on just from hearing his voice. For just a second, Makoto looked up at Akira. She expected an accusatory look, that the boy was mad, thinking she probably followed him here. But he didn’t, he looked almost curious, which somehow made Makoto feel worse.
“Th-thanks.” Makoto said, standing up quickly and moving as fast as she could to the exit. As she reached for the doorknob, she heard the owner scolding Akira.
“Idiot,” the man said. “You’re scaring away my customers.”
Makoto found that she had ran out of the cramped neighborhood, not stopping until she reached the train station.
What was that? What just happened?
The whole day hadn’t made sense. She wanted to tell herself she wasn’t acting normal. Sis was for sure going to say something; Makoto had been out way later than normal. She penned five pages of excuses, scrapping anything that sounded remotely false. She also stopped writing each time she thought of the look Akira had given her, and the almost sly tone in his voice. What was he thinking? What was I thinking? This whole plan is ridiculous. She couldn’t even feel glad she’d found a lead in finding his workplace and apparent living space. Makoto knew she had access to that information already from the principal, she just hadn’t had the strength to look at it yet. Somehow, she’d stumbled on it accidentally. As the train sped her closer to home, Makoto couldn’t help but savor a thought that she was glad she at least figured out the answer of the enticing scent of coffee that lingered around the boy, and now it lingered on her as well.