Chapter Text
Who even read printed books instead of manga on this day and age?
Considering the digitalisation of the world, one would think that it would still not be necessary to have to buy a novel, of all things. And with the small allowances some students have, the expenditure for something that would be used once wasn’t really worth it, in his opinion. Not that it really mattered when he voiced said opinion, since he was met with a harsh reprimand and the offhanded comment to buy the book secondhand instead. Fine, then! He would use money to get an underground train ticket to the book district instead!
The musty smell of goldened pages made Ryuji’s nose curl into itself. He had barely even walked out of the station’s entrance and the stench was unbearable. Left and right, he could only see old people crawling on their walking sticks, hunched over and taking a good look at the ground while they strolled lazily. He gathered the mean age in that particular part of Tokyo was of eighty years, and that was if he considered it optimistic. Why had he even agreed to come here? Probably because he had no genuine clue of where else to buy some old, crummy novel for a decent price in clearance. Not like he could’ve asked anyone in his class, really, since he knew the efforts were futile. No one would want to lend him a hand, in fear of having it bitten off by such a reknown delinquent. Even if most people had already begun to forget why they weren’t supposed to come anywhere near him.
Besides, his phone’s web browser seemed to be really keen on bringing him to this particular area of town. First result was always the most reliable, right?
As the youngest human being in kilometres, he reckoned, he brought it to himself to get out of there as soon as possible, before he began to grow wrinkles and sprout white hairs. His sneakers tapped the worn concrete in Jimbocho, rows and rows of used tomes of all kinds lined outside basking in the early summer sun. Among the idle chatter of old friends and elderly couples, fingers would flip through the books on display, and just a glance at the decaying print on the pages made Ryuji slightly weary. Those books were old, damn right. He couldn’t even recognise some of the kanji in them. Were they really expected to read such difficult texts a full year before even thinking about applying to university?! He clicked his tongue, feeling himself grow uneasy. He was hideously out of place in there, the minimum of sixty years separating him from the rest of the folks there weighing on him.
His eyes began to dart around as he gritted his teeth in annoyance, desperately searching for a sign that could save him. The further in he began to limp into the backstreets, the smaller and less plastic-y the signs became. More traditional, as the teachers would praise. More prone to crumbling down into dust and mites, he reckoned. The streets became narrower, the colours around him darker. He felt himself losing his breath with the oppressive atmosphere. He feared he would die in this dump of a place.
And then, to the tingle of a gentle glass bell in the breeze, the entrance to a shop caught his fleeting attention.
His head turned to the source of the noise. The breath of that summer afternoon was playing with the paper slips attached to the end of a wind chime, alone but not lonely. While the paper twirled, the glass clinked, creating the only source of sound in that alley he had snaked into. How the breeze had managed to make its way there, he had no clue. But the red brush strokes on the chime called him by his name.
“Are you lost?”
Ryuji almost jumped out of his pants with the sudden, notably young voice that broke the spell of the chime. Only now noticing how his nails had been digging into his hands while stuffed into his pockets, probably from the constant feeling of being stared upon while he had gotten further lost into the labyrinth of streets. Come to think of it, he had no idea of how to make it back to the station.
His eyes fell to meet the source of the voice, a relaxed face of mild surprise meeting his bewildered one. The young man had to be about his age, if not younger. It was hard to tell, considering a pair of outdated glasses covered most of his face with a thick frame. Even through the messy, unkempt hair and the stupid retro glasses, he could see his eyes clear as the sound of the chime. They were silver, a colour he hadn’t come across in eyes ever before in his life. While distant, they also seemed welcoming for quaint conversation. They kept blinking, expecting an answer from the thrown-off kid that had become a statue for a split second.
Oh, right.
“N-nah, man, I’m aight,” Ryuji tried to laugh off his disastrous first impression, running his fingers through his hair and pulling on the sleeves of his blazer, “Just got distracted by the chime y’have here, s’all.”
“It’s hand made,” the young man replied with a small, happy huff, attributed to the heavy crate of books he was holding in front of him, “We like to change it every year in the shop. An artisan from around here makes them.”
“That’s fu- heckin’ great!” Ryuji attempted to laugh, pulling on the hairs at the back of his head to avoid hearing his brain screaming uncontrollably with the situation, “I uh, oughta get goin’, actually.”
“That’s too bad,” the boy replied, placing the box on top of a stack of books to begin organising the old paperbacks a little more neatly, “we were about to make some afternoon coffee in the shop, if you’re interested. It’s free for customers.”
He felt compelled to run and avoid staying there for longer than necessary, but the invitation had been poised already. It would be rude to decline, even if he hated the hell out of coffee. “I-I can do with some coffee alright.”
The delighted response he got back made his heart stop racing in the awkward situation, following the walking mop into the small shop.
The walls were stacked to the brim with paperbacks and a handful of cloth-bound books, and while it appeared chaotic, there was also a sense of organisation between the lines (or between the covers, in this case). Everything was where it was meant to be, but only the guy, who Ryuji reckoned was one of the two people working here, knew where things actually were. He didn’t dare even walking too loudly, in fear the floor would creak too loudly and destroy the feeling of time being suspended in that corner of the world. The two voices being exchanged deeper into the shop were, to him, the small conversation between the boy he had just met and who he presumed was the owner of the shop, therefore the boss. Trying to keep himself from tapping his foot uncontrollably, he explored further into the establishment, the faint buzzing of the lights above him accompanying him. He couldn’t see a single manga tome at all. How lame! How was this shop still standing with such outdated stock?
Suddenly, a clicking sound was heard, and the scent of roasted coffee began to fill the air within the dark wood shelves. He reached what he presumed was the coffee corner, mysteriously shaped coffee brewers bubbling happily with the heat of the gas flame under them. This corner was the only place where books hadn’t completely taken over the walls, a handful of jars containing coffee beans carefully lined up shoulder to shoulder instead. The smell was heavy, but also welcoming. A strange synergy was crafted when the smell of books was mixed in, somehow. The counter in front of the jars held a handful of tea biscuits, for the lack of coffee treats, and biting off one was the strange boy with thin eyebrows. His voice was low, respectful, and would raise his eyes in curiosity when Ryuji finally made it to the end.
“Not the kind of kid I’d expect coming into the shop, Ren,” a deeper voice made Ryuji shiver, turning to the sharper features and smaller, inquisitive eyes of an older man. He was visibly balding, reading glasses perched almost a little too low on his nose, and the way his facial features slanted down gave him a permanently bothered appearance. For some immediate reason, Ryuji didn’t like this man at all.
“He seemed lost, Sojiro. The wind chime from Amagi-san brought him here, I think,” finally knowing his name, Ryuji stood a little closer to this Ren person, leaning against the counter. Was he allowed to sit down on any of the stools? He hadn’t bought anything yet, technically.
Sojiro sighed, pulling on the worn apron he was wearing to readjust it slightly, “Has he bought anything yet? You know the rules, Ren: you have to stop inviting people in for free coffee.”
“Actually,” Ryuji finally found the chance to speak among what felt like a sore reprimand to the poor kid, “I am looking for something, mister.”
“Really? You?” Ryuji hoped that the grimace the boss had made hadn’t been on purpose, yet he couldn’t help but feel hurt about it.
“Yeah, I am searching for a novel for class,” he tapped his foot as he tried to fish for the small paper he had stuffed in his pocket and had fidgeted with the entire train ride, “somethin’ from... Reese Lebrunch?”
“He’s talking about Maurice Leblanc,” Ren interjected, thoroughly amused for some reason, as he filtered out the coffee and poured two black cups of it in rather worn china, “You’re going to be reading Arsène Lupin’s adventures?”
Relieved to know he had hit the jackpot, Ryuji sighed, “Yeah, man. I didn’t know he had books written about him, only the anime.”
“He was a French book character before that, as a matter of fact,” Ren laughed, pushing the tea biscuit plate closer to Ryuji as a friendly offering, “could be compared to Sherlock Holmes in terms of fame in France. Lupin actually meets Holmes in one of the stories.”
“Really? That’s news to me,” Ryuji helped himself to what he prayed was a butter biscuit, breaking it in half with his teeth. He tried to ignore Sojiro’s judging stare as me rolled his eyes, grunting about going to look for an old copy of the book, visibly afflicted by Ryuji’s only source of cultural knowledge being what was shown on the television.
“The books are really good, if you’re into mystery novels,” Ren continued, acknowledging that, since Ryuji was actually there to buy something, it would be okay to share some of the coffee with him, “Like in the anime, Arsène manages to escape every single sticky situation he’s thrown in. I admire him a lot.”
“I dunno man, I don’t really dig books in general,” Ryuji objected, searching for something to mellow his black coffee. Watching Ren drinking it plain gave him ugly shivers. Then again, Ryuji wasn’t necessarily the biggest fan of plain tea, not even matcha to the extent.
Ren laughed in disbelief, his eyebrows getting lost under his thick fringe, “Why in the world are you here then, of all places? Book-On probably had copies of the book in Shibuya.”
Ryuji poured behind his coffee cup, giving it a go and trying to drink it in one go so as not to appear like the idiot this kid probably thought he was. Of course there would probably be other second-hand shops elsewhere that could stock such apparently well known books. Of course he would’ve never thought about going there instead. He felt his pride collapsing into itself, pretty much at the same pace his mouth was suffering with the brewed drink igniting his throat on fire. The taste was unbearably bitter, and he had to close his eyes tightly to avoid crying. How did that stoic son of a bitch drink this without coughing his lungs out?!
A soft thump on the counter was his cue to stop crying into the coffee cup, turning to catch Sojiro having a pursed lip and that glare. Ryuji allowed the cup back on the plate with care as he coughed a little, breathing out to the sight of the cover with the title and author he had been searching for. ‘Arsène Lupin, Gentleman-Thief’... The copy of the book was in surprisingly good condition, just some bends and creases towards the edges. Nothing that could ruin the experience, though.
“950 yen for it,” Sojiro said dryly, catching Ryuji off guard. Was he expected to cough out a 1000 bill out of nowhere, right there? What kind of antique bookshop charged 950 yen for a two-hundred page book that had been printed God knows when? Looking at the boss felt like starting a staring contest. Was everyone out to get him and laugh at him? So much for free coffee.
“I-I can take that, thanks,” he grumbled low, fishing for his wallet in his back, sliding it down his arm to be able to have it on the counter just a second. Had he been paying attention, he would’ve noticed Sojiro flinching to the sight of the dirty bag where they’d eat, or the secretive gaze of Ren, who refused to miss a single detail from that strange punk. He was incredibly fun, compared to all the walking raisins that would otherwise frequent the establishment.
Ryuji resented having to give up such a crisp 1000 bill, but there it went, away from his hands, with a meagre, hollow coin dropped in his hands in return. His book was carefully packed in a paper bag by Ren, with the small addition of a more modern bookmark as a little gift to remember where he had bought the novel. Ryuji was getting antsy with these last few steps, already itching to flee from the stern eyes of the old man, though Ren seemed to enjoy taking his time in his part of the job. Finally, with a sticker bearing the name of the shop to close the bag, Ren handed the book over to Ryuji, who hastened to stuff it into his bag and steal one last biscuit in his way out.
“Don’t forget to let us know what you thought about the book!,” Sojiro raised his voice in a weak attempt to be friendly, getting a small huff of acknowledgement in reply, and the chime of the door bell as it closed. He sighed heavily once back alone with Ren, pushing back the remaining hair he had and taking another sip of his coffee. “He goes to the same academy as you, doesn’t he?”
“He does. Must be in another class, though,” Ren replied as he took off his glasses to wipe them clean of the coffee’s steam, relishing in the fruity afterflavour, “I’m surprised he didn’t take any milk with the coffee, though.”
“Punk didn’t want to appear weak, probably.”
~~~
He was lucky he still had just enough battery left to be able to use his phone’s navigator to get out of the streets, not without taking a picture of the front of the shop for good measure. The wind chime kept singing its own little melody to the breeze, glimmering golden as the sun had begun to set. In some way, its song was like a farewell with a hint of a rendezvous. However, Ryuji didn’t intend to pay attention to that, more focused on heading back to the train station and home in the stupidly long journey ahead. There was something about the smirk and stance of this... Ren. Something that had caught his attention. Had he seen him somewhere before? His glasses were so thick, and lord knew he would never be able to stand having so much hair on his face at a time. The dude needed hair clips. Or a clean shave, by defect. Such dense hair could only be a nightmare during the upcoming summer days.
He spent most of the train ride home burning up most of his phone battery, if not playing with the paper bag the book had been given to him in. Admittedly, during the duration of his studies, he had only read books that were obligatory by the educational curriculum. Otherwise, only manga lined the shelves of his room, magazines and publications thumbed through to exhaustion. Having a book to read again wasn’t his cup of tea, but he had to admit the sticker closing the paper sleeve was a nice touch. Pulling it open, he brought the book out, the smell of that coffee still lingering within the train carriage. He flicked through the pages during the ride in the underground, the artificial lighting just enough to allow him to begin reading the first handful of paragraphs in the novel. Not like he could do much else with a dead phone. What kind of self-proclaimed legendary thief got caught on the very first chapter, even? What were the remaining pages for?
Still, he became absorbed, somehow, in the way the story was told. This Arsène fellow came off as a little too grandiose for his tastes, but one had to admit he was rather smart. The deductions of the case in hand were unpredictable and blatantly obvious at the same time. He could tell, the more he read, why Ren likes the character so much: he was actually a pretty cool guy. And he managed to get it with the ladies with such ease, he had to admit he was a little jealous.
He hadn’t turned that many pages, but he had almost missed his stop in a panicked heartbeat. It wasn’t dark outside yet, thanks to the looming summer hours, so the walk through the streets up to his apartment was slightly more relaxed than his escape from the book district. He was still thinking about it while he opened the door, announced his arrival and accompanied his mother during dinner, and nagged him at the back of his mind when he tried to sleep. Bringing back the novel to his hands, he flicked through the pages to find the bookmark. It served a double purpose: both to display an old picture of the shop on the front, with the name of it written in a stylised manner (Leblanc Books, huh? That explained Ren’s laughter), and a backside to jot down the names of the books bought and read there. Smart idea.
Even if he didn’t really know when he would ever write down a new title on that bookmark, he still scribbled down his new purchase on it, closing the pages comfortably around it. He wasn’t quite sure as of why he was treating it with so much care. Maybe all he needed to do was sleep.