Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

May 1st, 2016

The TV droned on in the background of Café Leblanc, filling the small, empty, and dimly lit coffee shop with the sounds of the nightly news playing. It was the same as ever; the stories oscillated between the topics of local school teacher Suguru Kamoshida’s criminal investigation, and the upcoming art exhibit of the world famous Ichiryusai Madarame. The owner of the quaint café, a middle-aged man known to the locals as Sojiro Sakura, paid little mind to it—barring the fact that he was a guardian to a student of that shady teacher, the news didn’t involve him. That alone made it easy enough for him to carry on ignoring the details, carefully counting out his register’s till.

“...investigation continues. Kamoshida has confessed to his crimes, though investigators are looking into the possibility that he was coerced. Prior to his confession, a series of ‘calling cards’ by a rogue group calling themselves the ‘Phantom Thieves of Hearts’ were placed within Shujin Academy. No further information is available at this time. When asked about the stripping of his gold medals, the IOC stated that they were awaiting the results of the investigation and would make their decision at a later date. After the break—”

At the other end of the counter, the faintest smirk crossed the lips of the boy that Sojiro was guardian to. Akira Kurusu, a second year student at Shujin Academy, and a boy who was far more than seemed. As far as appearances went, most wouldn’t look twice at him. Fairly tall and lanky, his fair frizzy and unkempt and with glasses that almost seemed a little too big for his face, he came off as unassuming. Even most who spoke to him would say he was fairly mild-mannered in most situations, save for the occasional smartass remark or a politeness that seemed almost mocking if he was being patronized. It was an attitude that betrayed the reputation he had, one of a criminal, on probation for assault and sent to live in Tokyo from his hometown after being expelled from his school. There was a reason there was more than met the eye, though. While it was undeniable that Akira certainly was those things, it was not all of who he was, those things were certainly part of him, and Akira himself was content to let that be what Sojiro saw for the time being.

“You really gotta wonder what made him confess,” Sojiro mused as he closed the cash drawer. He hadn’t been much for conversation with Akira over the three weeks that he’d been living there, but it was easy for him to admit that the kid was behaving, and even doing his part to help around Leblanc. Akira had taken an interest in learning how to brew the coffee and prepare the meals served, so the least he could do was make a little conversation to pass the time until he closed up shop. “But I guess a guy like that is just one less reason for you to go poking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

The words had a bit of bite to them; Sojiro certainly hadn’t warmed up to Akira completely by any stretch. The kid still had a criminal record, he’d still caused a little trouble since becoming his charge, and it was still a bit of a hassle to deal with, even if ultimately, he wanted to see Akira do well. Even still, those harsh words made Akira bristle slightly, smirk clearing off his face and gaze shifting back to the sink where he’d been washing dishes.

“Yeah,” was all Akira spoke in response; if he said too much, he might give something away that he shouldn’t. The topic, while something pleasing to Akira for the sake of his own involvement, was better left unspoken. Sojiro—Akira still couldn’t trust him despite being his guardian, even if he was warming up slowly. It was better if Sojiro thought his involvement was minimal…

Instead of him knowing that Akira was one of those Phantom Thieves of Hearts, instead of him knowing that he is the direct cause of Kamoshida’s confession; it was better this way. His methods were unconventional and unexplainable to most, anyway; but still, there was a satisfaction to knowing he helped, despite Sojiro’s biting way of saying that Akira’s nose didn’t belong in business like that. It was hard to stay uninvolved when he knew he could do something—especially when others were getting hurt and would have continued to be hurt if he hadn’t done what he could.

“Anyway,” Sojiro continued on with a tired sigh. He had no idea what Akira was thinking; frankly, he wasn’t sure he even wanted to know. “I’m gonna run out for some smokes. Doubt anyone will come in, but don’t go making trouble if we do get any customers.”

Akira offered a sound of affirmation, gaze hardened on the dishes he was drying. As much as he was the sort to let things roll off his back—he often had to, in order to get by in his situation—to say it didn’t get under his skin sometimes when Sojiro spoke to him that way would have been a lie. But rather than let that be seen, he utilized the fact that his back was turned. He didn’t have to hide anything that way, and when he did, it wouldn’t be seen. In any case, that affirmation had been enough for Sojiro to continue on his way. With little fanfare, he walked out from behind the counter and toward the door, leaving the café to Akira for those few minutes. Much like Sojiro thought, Akira believed too, that nobody would show up. It was close to closing time, and Leblanc was hardly ever busy anyway.

A minute passed. And then another. The last of the dishes were put away, and save for that still droning TV noise, Leblanc was quiet. Quiet enough that the sound of someone pushing the door open and the bells chiming was a bit jarring, in fact. Akira stood a bit straighter, and before even casting his full attention at who had entered the café, he spoke out a greeting on automatic. “Welcome,” calm and polite, he certainly gave off the mild-mannered appearance of a part-time employee. “Sit anywhere you’d like.”

“Thanks!” Though not entirely necessary, the first voice spoke up, and that was when Akira was able to take his first opportunity to look at these late shift customers. The voice came from a girl, seemingly close to him in age, energetic in nature. Her hair was neatly styled, clothes fashionable enough to rival Ann’s sense of style—at least, Akira thought so. With the girl was a boy, who seemed to be much quieter; he only nodded his head, and at first glance, didn’t seem too remarkable otherwise. His hair covered much of his face, hands shoved in his pockets with posture that slouched in a way that make Akira almost envious; he often stood the same, but to seem as unassuming as this guy actually was.

The two took a seat, and Akira kept his distance for a moment to give them the time they needed to settle in. As they did so, their conversation from outside continued, devoid of any context, and though Akira hadn’t really intended on eavesdropping, Leblanc was quiet enough that it was hard to help.

“Yeah, Mitsuru said she was going to look into it. The readings were off the charts, but it’s not like before. She’s having a hard time pinpointing it,” Whatever it was, it seemed like it was important to the two of them.

The boy nodded his head, sitting back in his seat. “She’ll get it.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. She probably wouldn’t have said anything if she didn’t have some leads.”

“Mm,” his response was minimal, but that seemed to be enough to satisfy the girl on that line of conversation.

“Sooo… more importantly!” She began to change the subject, cheer almost forced out of her mouth. Akira’s gaze fixed on her for a moment; he couldn’t be sure when it was a stranger, but it seemed like the shift in topic wasn’t one she was terribly comfortable with, despite pressing on. “Have you seen her since you’ve been back?”

There was a silence that followed that question. Long, awkward, somewhat tense—enough so that Akira briefly considered intervening to take their orders. Before he could do so, though, the boy seemed to have a response to that question.

“No,” he spoke so simply, words coming out with a gentle shake of his head. For only a fraction of a second, an equally gentle smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “She’s living the way she wants to now. She said she wanted to find her little sister… so I know she’s doing okay.”

The response gave Akira pause. He had no idea what or who this guy was talking about. The topic of their conversation didn’t seem to have any relevance to him or his work as a Phantom Thief, and therefore not something he really needed to involve himself in. It didn’t appear, either, that they’d have anything to offer, nothing worth pursuing a Confidant for, at least. But there was a strange tug at his subconscious, and at his heart. Something that made him want to draw closer—to both of them, but especially to this unassuming, mild-mannered young man that spoke so fondly of a girl seeking out her sister.

“Well, just don’t go pining forever, Minato,” the girl responded with a bit of a long-suffering sigh. It was easy to detect the faintest sense of jealousy—or perhaps just mild envy—from her tone, but from the looks of it, she wasn’t actually too bothered. It certainly begged the question of what their relationship was, but that wasn’t Akira’s business in the least. He wasn’t given much time to contemplate these things though, as the girl waved him over to take their order. Rather than shout from across the counter, he made his way closer, offering a pleasant enough smile.

“What can I get for the two of you?”

“Just a coffee for me, house blend is fine,” the girl offered up simply; Akira nodded as his gaze shifted over to the boy, one he now knew went by the name Minato.

“The same,” he started, but his own gaze shifted to the board over the counter. “Curry, two.”

“Okay. Two house blends and one curry.”

Minato shook his head as he held up two fingers on each hand for Akira. “Two curry. Two house blends and two curry.”

“Ah…” Akira hadn’t realized what Minato meant, presumably because most didn’t order two plates of curry for themselves. He wasn’t even sure he could imagine anyone that could eat that much in one sitting, if he was truthful with himself—though he supposed he didn’t really know very many people to begin with, and the world has all types. “Two coffees and two orders of curry, then.”

With a nod of affirmation, Akira made his way back behind the counter to prepare everything. It wasn’t a difficult task, what with the coffee already brewing and the curry still being kept over the stove. As he scooped out rice onto the plate from the rice cooker, the door opened once again—though this time, it was just Sojiro returning from his errand. A brow arched from the café’s owner in surprise as he met with Akira behind the counter, and he emitted a quiet sigh.

“I can lock up when they leave,” Akira offered quietly. He knew that Sojiro wasn’t very well likely going to trust him with that sort of task, but it couldn’t hurt to try, right? The old man might have given him an earful nearly every time they spoke, but it wasn’t like Akira was unaware, either, that he had a reason for closing up shop at the time they did.  He may not have known what it was specifically, but it was prompt enough on most days that it was hard to believe he was just some bachelor with a date for every night of the week.

Sojiro, though, just waved a hand. “I’ll change the sign to closed on my way out. Keep it locked, just let them out when they’re done.”

This time, it was Akira who let a brow raise; the fact that Sojiro was going to let him do that at all was clearly a shock. It was almost as if to meet some sort of expectation set by that expression that Sojiro haphazardly added, “But if even one single yen is missing from that till, don’t think I won’t kick your ass right out.”

“I know,” Akira offered a nod before he shifted to grab a ladle and plate the rest of the curry.

“I’m off, then. See you in the morning.”

With that, Sojiro took his leave for the night, and Akira could feel a mix of both pride for the minimal amount of trust Sojiro was putting in him after only three weeks of living in Leblanc’s musty attic, and the pressure of making sure he could handle everything properly so he didn’t wind up a homeless student come morning.

“So, that your dad or something?” The sound of the girl’s voice rang out as Akira placed down the curry-filled plates, long enough so that he could bring over the now-poured cups of steaming hot coffee to the table.

“Or something,” Akira replied with a weak half-smile and no intention of further explaining the circumstances. “Take your time, though. I’m not in any rush.”

He had no reason to rush, after all. It was a Sunday night and he had no other plans but to read a book for class and then head upstairs to bed. There was nowhere else to be, nowhere else to really even go , so there was no use in fussing, as far as he was concerned.

“We won’t take long,” Minato spoke up, almost as if to interject for the girl—not that he thought she’d really take too much of this guy’s time, but simply because it was his nature to interject when the time seemed to call for it. “You probably want to get home, too.”

“It’s okay, really,” Akira insisted, and that prompted the girl to nudge Minato’s foot with her own, as if to say ‘stop worrying about everyone else so much for a change,’ even though she was well aware that it wasn’t in Minato’s nature to ignore someone who needed that kind of help. But one the cups of coffee were placed down, and he was able to follow up with the plates (both neatly placed in front of Minato, of course), he held a hand up to wave it off. “I have a room upstairs, so you aren’t holding me up from anything. Enjoy.”

It wasn’t something he wanted to discuss—or anything up for discussion, really. To Akira, it was hardly a secret at all that he was living in Leblanc’s attic; the residents of Yongen-Jaya were all familiar with that fact, as were his fellow friends in the Phantom Thieves. Likely, other students at his school were more than aware at this point too. It was what it was, as far as he was concerned. They were only customers, and even if they were close in age, they were still strangers, as well. He didn’t see any need to rush them out, but he also saw no need to further explain the situation. And that, in itself, was something Minato immediately found a bit jarring.

Minato was the sort of person who was used to others opening up to him, but Akira said something alarming so suddenly that his eyes remained just a bit widened in surprise on Akira’s form as he walked back behind the counter to continue his cleanup routine. It wasn’t unheard of for store owners to having a living space in their place of business; it saved on costs and was something that happened often traditionally. Akira’s implication, though, had been something else. He wasn’t the owner’s son, and it didn’t seem that man lived in the café, either. Strange. It was strange enough that Minato’s distraction kept him from eating right away, which only prompted the girl to point it out.

“Earth to Minato, those two plates of curry aren’t going to eat themselves, you know.”

“Right. Let’s eat,” Or, Minato supposed, he would start eating. The girl sipped at her coffee, though after a moment, he chose to speak up again, this time to Akira. “It’s good. Both of them. They go well together.”

Akira couldn’t deny that, not even if he wanted to. He wasn’t sure what it was about the combination, but they complemented one another in a way that was hard for him to put into words. It seemed to be the same with just about anyone who came into Leblanc for the first time, too, and that made Minato no exception.

“I can’t take any credit for that. All the Boss’ handiwork,” He offered with a shrug. With little else to do or say, Akira flipped the TV station from the still-airing news segments to some discussion panel show, though it seemed to be much of the same, talking about Japan’s political forecast and the current state of affairs within the Diet. Nothing particularly thrilling, though, not to Akira. It served duty as background noise while he cleans, while the two patrons spoke to one another. On the whole, it was uneventful. The bits of conversation Akira picked up on didn’t seem to be of any interest to him; discussions of school assignments and part-time jobs, unfamiliar names of friends the two share. Here and there, his ears would perk, and even once he was done with the majority of the cleanup and left with nothing but a book to page through in the meanwhile, he would keep his gaze steady but indirect.

It couldn’t have been more than a half hour before the two moved to stand, each reaching for their wallets to split the cost of the bill for what they ordered.

“I’ll be right there, Yukari,” Minato said to the girl; Akira took quiet note that her name was Yukari, after all that talking, he hadn’t picked up on that at all. Minato, for his part, motioned his head towards the door near the back of the café that read ‘Toilet,’ wordlessly expressing his intent.

“Uh, right. I’ll just meet you outside,” She replied with an awkward laugh. Even having dormed in the same building for years now, she really had no interest in bathroom talk with any of her comrades, nor did Yukari want to hang around awkwardly with the quiet, frizzy-haired kid. He didn’t have to know her to be able to feel a slight, gentle sort of judgment coming from her, one that wasn’t unfamiliar to him thanks to his reputation. That, at the very least, was much easier to let roll off of his back than some of the more disparaging comments he’d caught whispers of in the last few weeks; he supposed it wasn’t really very strange to judge someone based on appearance alone, even if it wasn’t the most ideal situation.

Once she had made her way outside, well out of earshot and not really in Akira’s line of sight, he realized Minato hadn’t made any moves at all toward the back of the café. No, it was the opposite, really—Minato was standing on the other side of the counter, money in hand to give to Akira. With a nod, Akira politely took the money and began to count it out so he could put it into the till. 2300 yen should have been more than enough to cover the costs of their order, but when he counted—and then a second time—there was 3000 there.

“Ah. I’ll get your change,” Akira offered; the easiest assumption to make was that perhaps he didn’t want to inconvenience Yukari when he didn’t have exact change, but Minato only shook his head in refusal.

“Everything was delicious. And we kept you here late.”

A tip? Was that what it was supposed to be? Akira offered Minato a bemused expression, as if to say that he couldn’t even begin to process that offer. “I couldn’t—”

Couldn’t take it, of course. Akira was vaguely aware that there were places in the world that had some sort of tipping culture, Japan certainly wasn't’ one of them. It seemed wrong to take money from people that was undeserved—and besides, he wasn’t hurting that badly for cash, anyway. He’d gotten a good haul from his escapades as a Phantom Thief… which he supposed was a bit morally gray in its own right as well. Hm.

“It’s okay,” Minato said quietly; it would have sounded like he was insisting if not for the fact that his tone was little more than gentle. He wasn’t about to reveal his reasons, but he couldn’t help himself. Quaint as Café Leblanc was, there was something about this guy that Minato felt like he needed to do a little extra helping for. Much like Akira had felt a draw, a pull—Minato could sense it, too. And though he wasn’t nearly as clueless as Akira was as to why, he knew he wouldn’t be able to pinpoint details or even confirm something as big as he was thinking without a little effort. The feeling and sense that he got, was that it would be in his best interest to not let it go. “Thank for the food.”

With that, Minato shoved his hands into his pockets as he turned a bit on his heels and headed toward the door. He gave Akira no quarter to refuse, only prompting a mildly frazzled “Come again soon,” from him. He took his leave, and after a moment, Akira followed behind to lock the front door and shut the lights that weren’t necessary for cleanup. He’d have to make change in the register first to separate the money that wouldn’t add up when Sojiro checked in the morning, and even as he moved through Leblanc to clean up the remaining mess, he found his hand slipping into his pocket more than once in order to feel the money gifted to him by such a strange (but kind) patron.

“Minato, huh…”  Akira mused thoughtfully; what kind of person was he really? Why—and what was causing him to feel like he should even think twice about it?

He wasn’t sure. He was stumped, in all honesty. As he picked up the plates, he looked to the door again; he had his doubts a customer like that would even show up again. Leblanc didn’t get very many new customers, after all. Most who came in were regulars, those who lived in or near those small back alleys of Yongen-Jaya, and Akira could easily tell that they weren’t people who lived in the small neighborhood. He supposed, if nothing else, it had made the night a little less dull, though.

On the other side of the door, once Minato had exited, was Yukari, still waiting. It was with little fanfare that she motioned down the alley that would lead them directly to the subway station, though she managed another one of those sighs that seemed to drip with exasperation.

“Don’t tell me you’re picking up another one of these lost puppy charity cases to try and fix,” Her words came out with almost a bit of a whine. It was just like Minato, after all. How many times had he done this? Seen someone who looked like they needed help, or needed company, and wormed his way into their lives and hearts until they didn’t need his help anymore. And then they’d move on, and the cycle would start anew.

Minato didn’t seem to agree, though. He was aware of his own habits and tendencies—but this wasn’t that at all. “It’s not like that. He’s different.”

Yukari’s brow arched almost incredulously at that response. “Don’t tell me you’ve got the hots for the scraggly café kid.”

“No,” Minato’s response was flat, yet also sharp, giving her a dead-eyed stare that seemed to pierce through the darkness of the alley from his light eyes. “I’m not sure yet about something else. But I think he’s a little more like us than he lets on.”

It was a quiet perception, one that came from years of Persona-wielding, one that came from leading a team of them, of opposing them, of just innately being able to sense it.

“Wait, you don’t mean—”

Minato nodded his head. “It’s just a hunch. If he needs help, it might be in a way that we can help.”

...And in a way that could help them solve a few mysteries that their own group had been stumped to figure out. Yukari hummed quietly; it was just like Minato to take matters into his own hands that way, but it wasn’t as if she couldn’t sense quiet truth behind it. Maybe that kid did have something to aid their cause, but Minato was probably more interested in helping him grow as a Persona-user, because if there was one in their midst that hadn’t been made aware to the Shadow Operatives by now, he was likely inexperienced enough.

“All right then, Leader. I’ll leave that one to you, but don’t leave Mitsuru in the dark for too long. I’m not taking heat for keeping something like this from her.”

“I know, I know,” Minato said with a sigh, gesturing for Yukari to line up ahead of him as they waited for the oncoming train’s arrival. Even after all this time, he wouldn’t dare intentionally do anything to anger her, especially not about business. For now, though? He supposed the best course of action was to just get back home and sleep on it. He stifled a yawn as the train doors opened; he’d have to come back to Café Leblanc in a few days to follow up on his own time once he made a better plan.

Chapter Text

May 3rd, 2016

The truth of the matter was that walking into this self-imposed scenario, Minato didn’t really have any plans—none that proved to be solid, at least. His situation was a bit of a precarious one, one that would require a little bit of finesse to actually approach. Minato didn’t have any interest in solely using another for his own gain, after all—and he was well aware what he was doing could easily slip into that territory. In reality, he had no reason to approach Akira otherwise; suspicion that he was a Persona-user aside, a faint curiosity about the boy living in a café attic with someone who didn’t appear to be his immediate family wasn’t quite enough to give him much reason. Yet still, the curiosity lingered beneath the surface.

It was a matter of killing two birds with one stone.

If nothing else, if he could get a beat on this boy to get a sense of who he was and if he really held the qualities found in a Persona-user, that might be enough. The idea of going in strictly with some sort of ulterior motive to make a discovery he might not even utilize would have left a bad taste in his mouth—but if he was a Persona-user, then it would at least, to some extent, be his business to monitor things.

Minato felt it a bit disingenuous, even as he tried to justify it to himself. Perhaps there would be a bond to form, a connection to be made—something, anything , to make it feel less forced and more sincere.

Even if it still felt a bit wrong to him, it didn’t stop Minato from pushing the door open to Leblanc. He could start simple: order a cup of coffee and at the very least, learn a bit about the café itself. A gruff welcome came from Sojiro behind the counter; Minato took it upon himself to take a seat near the siphons.

“What’ll you have?” Sojiro’s words came with no recognition; though Minato had only been there two days earlier, nothing implied that Sojiro remembered. Maybe that was a bit strange, for a café that seemed to be empty even at what would normally be the busiest time of day… but Minato also supposed that they merely passed each other by on that evening, and the volume of people in a city like Tokyo may have drawn enough customers at other times to make a newcomer like him somewhat forgettable.

It wasn’t exactly a big deal to Minato, though. “Just the house blend is fine.”

His words came with a quiet nod of the head as he allowed his gaze to shift toward the television that droned on in the background about Kamoshida’s case. With the inclusion of interviews with students, it opened up an easy window for conversation—it wasn’t as if he could just ask where Akira was, after all.

“I’ve seen those uniforms a lot. Shujin Academy—it’s close to here, isn’t it?” Minato could only assume so, he saw quite a fair amount of people in that uniform on his way to Yongen-Jaya. Sojiro let out a sigh of mild exasperation; his gaze for a brief moment shifted to the entrance before he placed the cup of coffee down in front of Minato.

“Close enough,” he wasn’t feeling very conversational on the matter, it seemed. Instead, Sojiro’s gaze seemed to shift back to the door, and muttered under his breath, “what a pain in the ass.”

“What?” the statement caught Minato a bit off-guard; he hadn’t done anything to warrant the proprietor’s ire, he didn’t think so, at least.

“...It’s nothing. Just talking to myself.”

There was little else to be said to that; not everyone could always keep their exasperated thoughts to themselves, after all. With the conversation brought to a standstill, Minato let it go, with only a nod offered as he shifted his focus back to the television. A change of heart. Phantom Thieves. It was all pretty odd, to say the least. It was easy to believe that the ‘threat’ at hand was something done by a disgruntled student, and perhaps the callout was just enough to make a man full of guilt confess. But it didn’t line up with the attitude the news seemed to give—the testimonials of the students all implied that his ego was big, that he was well aware of his abuses and grasped that power willingly.

So what could make someone’s heart change to that degree?

It was suspicious. And primarily because the Shadow Operatives had picked up increased readings of Shadows in the area of Aoyama-Itchome; if not for that, it wasn’t likely they’d be suspicious of anything at all. He supposed the other part of the recon team would do their job in seeking out Shujin students to get a better read on the situation, separate of what the media would show—some truths couldn’t be seen by just anyone, after all.

‘One thing at a time,’ he had to remind himself quietly before he went for another sip of the coffee. His gaze remained largely trained on the TV for a good few minutes; Minato briefly considered asking where the part-timer was, with the knowledge that he lived there, but ultimately decided to wait it out. Because he lived there, it would mean he’d have to return eventually, right? Unless he stayed out far later than the café was open.

There was a second cup of coffee, followed by a third—and an arched brow of curiosity from Sojiro. He elected not to make it his business to wonder why someone would sit around at the counter for three cups of coffee so close to closing time. A paying customer was a paying customer, and that was enough. Thoughts kept to himself, he eyed the door, as if staring at it would make someone walk through it. And it worked—sort of. After another ten minutes, the bells finally began to chime as a tall, lanky student with a Shujin uniform trudged through the door.

“”Bout time you showed your face,” Sojiro offered in exasperation. Minato’s first response was to turn his head to see who he was talking to—and there was no mistaking who it was. With his still-disheveled hair and large-rimmed glasses, there wasn’t any denying that this was the boy from the other night. “If you’re not in any clubs, why the hell are you staying out so late? You better take it seriously, the position you’re in.”

Akira’s gaze shifted on automatic, and Minato noticed straight away the way the light reflected off his lenses, obscuring his expression pretty wholly. “I was at a diner, studying. Time just got away from me, that’s all.”

Sojiro scoffed, and Minato was left more unsure than before of what sort of relationship these two shared. Akira seemed none-too-pleased at the way he was being spoken to; Minato could almost feel a quiet frustration emanating off of him, despite the way he spoke so calmly and evenly. Sojiro seemed outwardly aggravated by the entire situation, however; it wasn’t Minato’s place to make assumptions, but it seemed like he was treating the boy like nothing but a nuisance. It was strange, to say the least—Akira had been nothing but accommodating, and if he was studying like he said, then it meant he was probably a good student. No different than what one would expect from a normal high school student at this point in the school year. Of course, he knew it was possible that Akira was lying, but that didn’t feel like the case. Gut instinct told him otherwise, that he really hadn’t intended on staying out as late as he had, and that he likely had just lost track of time.

It seemed a little unfair, devoid of context—but it was enough to keep Minato from immediately noticing the fact that Akira was donning a Shujin Academy uniform. In turn, Akira hadn’t noticed at all that Minato was staring as he walked closer into the café.

“I’ll clean everything and lock up,” Akira offered a little more placidly; it seemed like he was bargaining some kind of offer to get some of Sojiro’s favor back. While Minato didn’t think that spark of aggravation had entirely dissipated, it seemed it was being reeled back enough to try and placate Sojiro.

Awkward. The entire situation felt awkward to Minato, as if he were listening in on a conversation that wasn’t at all meant for him. His curiosity didn’t quite extend far enough to want to hear some sort of familial dispute, but all the same, it still left him to wonder if that level of ire was deserved. Akira didn’t seem to apologize for his actions, and that made it difficult to say whether or not it was belligerence or something else. It wasn’t his business to pry or step in, and though Minato knew he had a tendency to meddle, this wasn’t the way to do it. So he placed his cup down on the counter, causing it to make a sound that would remind the other two that there was still a customer in their presence.

“I’ll leave as soon as I finish this cup,” that offer immediately caught their attention. His words seemed to be more directed at Akira than Sojiro, but Akira didn’t offer an immediate response. Instead, his eyes widened just a bit, surprised in that the mysterious guy from a couple of nights ago was back for another cup.

“Ah,” The surprise showed easily in his tone, but Akira reined it in quickly as he shook his head. “It’s all right.”

Sojiro’s brow quirked once again; the sudden change of tone from Akira was a bit jarring to his ears.

“Well, whatever,” he sighed tiredly and moved to pull his apron off. “But trying to pick up the slack this way’s only going to get you so far. I have a life outside of this place too, you know.”

Akira’s expression soured a bit, the surprise fading into that aggravation that he seemed to be trying too hard to hide. “I’ll be more careful next time.”

It was plainly obvious to Minato that there was a lot to unpack between the two of them. Sojiro must have been his guardian of some sort—not a father, perhaps an uncle or something of the like—but their relationship seemed rocky at best. His gaze shifted back toward the cup as silence fell over the room once more; Sojiro was taking the time to gather his belongings while Akira removed his school blazer in favor of a proper apron. There was a gruff goodbye before the silence continued, and it left Minato at a bit of a loss. It still wasn’t his place to meddle; he could always come back to get a better idea of things another time. Curiosity wasn’t necessarily worth trying to pry when the atmosphere was tense, and it was easy to assume that Akira wouldn’t be interested in casual conversation after that sort of tense exchange.

But it was Akira who came to break the silence after a long few minutes of that brand of tense quiet, once the tables had been wiped down and he could more comfortably take a proper place behind the counter.

“Sorry,” he began, tone almost remorseful. Akira seemed quiet, to be sure—but somehow, this was quieter and more somber than he remembered. “...That you had to see that.”

Minato’s expression shifted to that of faint surprise; he hardly expected an apology for that. He shook his head, allowing it to dip closer to the cup held near his lips. “It happens.”

In turn, Akira appeared surprised at that response, so when Minato looked up to see that expression, he realized that maybe he should elaborate further. “I think it bothered you more than it bothered me.”

The surprise didn’t fade from Akira’s face as Minato said that. It took him a long moment to process that—someone had seen through him so easily. Easily enough, in fact, to call it out in that casual a manner. Once more, silence fell and Akira was quick to avert his gaze, hiding the expression in his eyes from Minato’s view. That made for twice in one meeting that he’d done that, and Minato was able to deduce that it had been entirely intentional on both occasions. The silence lingered just a little too long, though not nearly as uncomfortably so as it had been when Sojiro was still there.

“...I’m used to it,” Akira didn’t sound too pleased by it, though. His tone edged somewhere between a bubbling fury and resignation, but yet still remained composed in a way that made it seem to Minato as if he was always teetering on the edge of something more than a quiet mix of emotions. “It’s always like this.”

‘Always like this?’ Minato’s head tilted to one side, curious, but troubled by a statement like that. He got the sense their relationship wasn’t very good—but ‘always’ didn’t seem to be a good marker.

Akira, on the other hand, seemed more interested in glossing over the topic; when his focus shifted, he seemed to offer Minato a bit of a forced, lopsided smile and a shrug to his shoulders. “It’s not important. You don’t have to rush for my sake, though.”

Curious and troubled shifted easily into displeasure; he knew it wasn’t any of his business, and Minato had no reason to think that a stranger would be so open about something that bothered him deeply—but it got under his skin a bit, anyway. Something faint that existed, as if he could feel his own Persona calling out to not give up on this situation. It was weird, strange, even. None of his Personas had ever done something like that, and yet Minato could feel a tug toward Akira that couldn’t be settled so easily. It was new, it was different—and it was compelling. Far more so than their last meeting, and in a way that made him want to press on without concession.

“Because you live here, right?”

“Mm,” Akira offered a nod as he wiped down the counter around where Minato was sitting. “We’re the ones who made it uncomfortable anyway.”

Akira couldn’t let that situation go so easily. Even if their relationship up until that point had been something of a tumultuous one, Sojiro instilled very early on that accommodating the customers was the top priority; the sort of exchange he shared with Sojiro wasn’t one a customer needed to see. And that meant he had to do something a little a bigger and better, something proper to compensate for putting a customer into an awkward position.

“I told you, I think it bothered you more.”

Akira let out a quiet sigh, unable to accept that as a response. Minato continued on with his drink, but Akira tossed the rag he was using to clean gently into the sink from where he stood. Swiftly, he moved toward the kitchen, fussing about in a manner that Minato couldn’t exactly discern. After a moment, he placed a full bowl of Leblanc’s special curry in front of Minato.

“On the house,” he offered. “It doesn’t matter who it bothered more.”

Truthfully, there was a pull that Akira felt as well. Though it wasn’t nearly as strong or discernible as what Minato sensed, something in him couldn’t let it go. Something in him called out the other way, seeking a strange, subdued sort of forgiveness that couldn’t be put into words. Words weren’t Akira’s strong suit, anyway—so that gesture would have to suffice.

“You don’t have to—”

“But I’m doing it anyway,” Akira interjected with a shake of the head. “You liked it enough to finish two plates last time.”

“...” there was little more than a quiet exhalation for a long moment before Minato elected to concede to Akira on that point. “I didn’t know customer service could be so stubborn.”

“It’s one of my skills,” he smirked as he pulled up a hand to tug a bit at the ends of his hair. “I just don’t know when to quit.”

Minato’s head dipped as he brought the spoon to his mouth. The curry was absolutely as good as it was two nights earlier, and that made it hard for him to argue the free meal. He could imagine the owner would be none-too-pleased with giving a customer a free meal, but the knowing that it wasn’t his place to involve himself left him to keep his mouth shut on the matter.

It left the café quiet once more; Akira was taking care of the rest of the cleanup while Minato ate. Neither of them was very good with small talk and casual conversation, despite both having reasons of their own to want to continue to speak. Minato, for his want to know if Akira was anything he suspected, and Akira solely for what a curious person Minato seemed to be. Silence was what continued to reign over the room though, until Minato ended the silence. His gaze had shifted to the uniform blazer that hung where the apron once more. Now was his chance, if nothing else, to get a little more insight from this curious boy.

“That’s… Shujin Academy, right? Your uniform.”

The sudden question took Akira a bit by surprise, though this much wasn’t noticeably visible in his expression. It wasn’t a strange question, just an unexpected way to break the silence.

“Yeah. I guess you’ve probably seen it a lot the last few days,” he knew, after all, how much news coverage there had been of the scandal.

“Hard to miss,” Minato noted easily. “It’s not every day you hear about calling cards, phantom thieves or sudden changes of heart on the news.”

Akira turned his head away slightly, drawing a bit of curiosity from Minato that remained muted in his poker-faced expression. “What the news says doesn’t matter much anyway. As long as he won’t hurt people like that anymore.”

It was a strange response, Minato thought. It didn’t discount the idea of phantom thieves; most seemed to believe it was a hoax or a prank, or maybe even blackmail. But Akira chose to skirt the idea completely, omitting all but the notion that Kamoshida was as guilty as his confession made him out to be. A brow arched; he wasn’t sure if there was something more to that thought.

“It’s weird, though. A change of attitude like that so suddenly.”

All that Minato got in response to that was a shrug.

“Maybe phantom thieves really do exist,” though Akira’s words came out a bit dryly, Minato felt his entire body tense hearing that. His Persona was resonating with him like some sort of alarm bell; it was unlike anything he had ever felt before. It wasn’t fear, or anger, but something that felt like a metal detector coming across treasure buried in the sand. Why was it reacting that way? Was there really something there?

“I wonder what they’d steal. It’s not like you could just take someone’s heart. Or… their desires,” at least, not traditionally. But Minato had seen what Apathy Syndrome could do to a person. And similarly were the cases of the mental shutdowns that bore a close resemblance to the old Apathy Syndrome cases. They were things that had to do with the collective unconscious, with outside forces tampering with people’s hearts and minds in ways that only Persona-users ever seemed to be able to combat.

The second thought didn’t garner any response from Akira; while Minato couldn’t entirely discern why that was, it was only because Akira really had no idea what to say. He could make a quip about it sounding like something from an anime, or how it seemed like bullshit. But the only type of lying Akira really liked to do was that by of omission—it was disingenuous to be sure, but he knew himself to be a generally honest person. Lying directly wasn’t something he was used to; that mild concern that someone would see through him and figure out that he was directly involved definitely couldn’t easily be put to rest. The thing about that Akira failed to realize, though, was that even omissive responses could be seen through, especially by someone who had reason to read between the lines.

“I guess it’s a tough subject if it’s at your school,” Minato conceded quietly to the fact that he wouldn’t get a direct response, despite the ringing in his head and heart that seemed to be telling him that there was more than meets the eye.

“It’s fine,” as fine as it could be, at least. “Everyone’s been talking about it, no matter where you go.”

Minato couldn’t deny that. Once the news broke, it seemed like it was on the lips of everyone who heard about it. Suguru Kamoshida was an Olympic Gold Medalist; he was Japan’s pride for a time with his athletics—the discovery to the masses that he was actually a deplorable scumbag was definitely enough to stick out in the minds of people all over not just the city, but the entire country. In all honesty, Minato could imagine something like that may have even hit some of the international newsstands, thanks to his athletic celebrity status.

It seemed like it would be one awkward silence after another; Minato didn’t usually struggle this much with something of this nature. Most opened up to him quickly, often before he had reason to be invested in the conversation. Akira was different, though—in some sense, it felt like looking into a mirror. Amiable, but distanced, with little to offer up beyond very casual small talk. Perhaps if Akira was like him, there wasn’t any way to form a significant bond, or perhaps the way his Persona called out was nothing more than a red herring, a fluke. But even as he finished the last bites of curry on his plate (he inhaled that quicker than he’d realized),  Minato couldn’t convince himself that there wasn’t something more there to the situation than what met the eye.

So with a breath, Minato decided to take a step that he may not have considered doing in most other situations.

“Arisato,” it was a simple introduction. “It’s always good to know the names of your regulars, right?”

“Ah… It’s good to meet you then, new regular Arisato-san,” Akira hadn’t expected it, which left him to pause briefly. “I’m Kurusu. Akira. And the owner, he’s Sakura-san.”

“Sakura-san, I see,” Sojiro’s name was a little less important to Minato in this scenario. It was Akira that he had taken some interest in, and having a name made it all the more easy for him to try and piece things together on his own time. There wasn’t any way to get around the fact that hearing Akira’s name seemed to tug at his Persona once again.  “Well, it’s nice to meet you too, Kurusu-san.”

Akira offered a nod in response, a slight bow of the head that Minato couldn’t discern as anything but politeness. But for Akira, there was absolutely something else to that response. Minato was calm and polite, and despite the rocky start to his arrival back to Leblanc, he was courteous. Even though he had heard Minato’s first name already, it wouldn’t have been right to address him so casually, even if he wasn’t much a fan of the strict formality that they were beholden to by society. And yet still, there was something about putting that name together, Minato Arisato , that struck an odd chord with him. Akira couldn’t place the feeling, a strange familiarity, a tightness in his chest—something that called out to him in a way that was entirely different than anything else he’d experienced. And that, to him, would have been saying a lot only weeks after awakening to his Persona for the first time.

He felt almost… embarrassed , though Akira had no idea why that sort of feeling would come over him. The fact he felt that way wasn’t something that would have been visible to Minato, who simply pushed his chair out from the counter, placing down the money he owed.

The money he owed, plus the price of the curry, though Minato kept that extra few hundred yen under the other bills, masking it from Akira’s sight. This had been enough for one evening, after all. He’d learned Akira’s name, he’d gotten a better sense of there being something more than what he let onto as well.

“Next time, two plates of curry,” Minato spoke solemnly, though he was mostly joking. It wasn’t as if it would be hard for him to order more than one serving to begin with, after all.

“I’ll save three, in case you’re feeling adventurous,” Akira chirped in response. An amused smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as Minato made his way toward the door.

There was little else to say, so Minato let out a small hum as he exited Leblanc. Akira Kurusu… was an interesting guy, to be sure. There was a lot more than he seemed to be, even if Minato couldn’t yet discern just what that was, or if his suspicions were correct. Upon his exit, Akira came to lock the door, and Minato began to walk toward the station. He pondered his options before he pulled out his phone, dialing a number in his contacts.

“I might have a lead on our Tokyo case,” he spoke quietly into the receiver; he eyed the area around him cautiously before he continued. “I’ll tell you more at the meeting, but we might have new Persona-users on our hands.”

Now it was just a matter of whether or not Minato would be able to confirm that suspicion, and more importantly, figure out exactly what these new Persona-users might be up to.