Chapter Text
Makoto didn’t know how to describe “business as usual”.
Makoto Niijima somehow managed to run the most inconsistently busy coffee shop in the entire city of Tokyo. Her open hours were not anything special or out of the ordinary (6am to 4pm) and she was tucked away in a corner of a small alley in Kichijoji, but somehow it ended up being as crowded as possible at completely irregular times.
Although Makoto did have an idea as to why it was crowded at such weird times.
Every so often, a girl with soft auburn hair and cute brown eyes and a very soft and pretty looking pink sweater would come in and play the out of tune upright grand piano that sat in the corner of the cafe. Makoto didn’t put it there, she didn’t know why it was there, but it was annoying to move so she simply left it be. Sometimes customers would play simple songs or whatever was on the radio, so she had to institute some rules that only paying customers (ie not the middle schoolers from down the road) may play the piano.
And this girl… holy fuck could she play.
Clair De Lune by Debussy, Merry Go Round of Life by Hisaishi, Country Roads by John Denver (occasionally featuring Yusuke Kitagawa, local artist, on the violin and/or vocals) and so much more. Her setlist was wide and beautiful and amazing and what Makoto looked forward to in her day.
But of course, all good things come with a price, and this good thing came with the physical pain of her ears trying to perk up under her headband.
Look, it wasn’t her fault that she became a nekomata. It just ended up happening. She started out as a regular cat, got old, and ended up becoming human because of some magic nonsense Makoto didn’t understand. When more nekomata started popping up, and subsequently being heavily investigated by the government, Makoto immediately went into hiding. She tucked her ears into a hat or a headband and hoped that nobody would find out when she transformed back into a cat behind the garbage cans for free train rides.
“My name is Okumura, by the way! Okumura Haru.”
Makoto was shaken out of her daze by the girl—the pianist—at her counter. It was a non-busy day, and a crowd hadn’t followed her into the shop it seemed. It was actually the first time they’d had a real conversation outside of “one black coffee please” and “coming right up!”
“N-Niijima Makoto. Nice to meet you.” Makoto struggled to not inform this girl that she was literally the prettiest person ever, managing barely to succeed. Her ears twitched under her cap.
“Makoto! Such a pretty name!” Haru said. She smiled, clasped her hands together, and her eyes widened all in the cutest possible way that Makoto was sure her heart was going to cease functioning.
Makoto’s cheeks were hot. “Th-thanks. Uh, can I get you anything? Your usual perhaps?”
Haru pressed her finger to her chin and tilted her head. “No, I want to try something new. Surprise me!”
Makoto shuddered. She hated customers asking her to give them something random, never knowing what to make in the best of times, but this was a girl that Makoto had been speaking to for all of thirty seconds and developed a massive crush on, making everything way more difficult.
Chai Green Latte. A little complex, fun to make, and shows off that Makoto can make more complex drinks if she so desires. Simple.
“Coming right up!”
While Makoto brewed the coffee, Haru began to play something on the piano once again. The coffee shop was empty, allowing the acoustics of the room to shine through. The piano reverberated through the space, chords and melodies floating through the open air from Haru’s fingers to Makoto’s hidden ears. It wasn’t a song Makoto recognized, but she stopped what she was doing altogether to listen to it. It was beautiful.
And moments later, Haru stopped playing and her drink was ready. She returned to the counter to collect it, and for the first time ever, she stayed.
“What was that song called?” Makoto asked her.
Haru shrugged. “I don’t know. I made it up on the spot.”
The nekomata’s jaw dropped. “You’re kidding, right? It was way too pretty to be improvised! There’s no way.”
The auburnette laughed, and Makoto felt herself fall even further. Haru sipped her drink before answering, “I’ve been playing since I was a little girl. I know all sorts of things. Improvisation is pretty easy once you’ve been studying theory for over a decade.”
Makoto nervously chuckled. “Yeah, that makes sense.” She didn’t know the first thing about music. How was she supposed to keep up?
“So, why did you start working here?”
Makoto felt her ears try to perk up once again, and she winced at the pain. “What do you mean?” She hoped her wincing wasn’t obvious.
“This coffee shop. It’s really out of the way. I hear it used to be a piano studio, but it closed down after it was discovered to be a front for drugs.” Haru’s eyes shone nothing but curiosity and sincerity at Makoto, luring every one of Makoto’s secrets out of her.
And so of course, Makoto took the bait. “I thought it would be fun. My ex works at a coffee shop, and he says it’s fun. He practically runs the place, actually. I thought I’d try out my own little business venture, see how it went.”
Haru nodded along as she listened intently. “I see. You know, it gets kind of busy in here. Sometimes it looks like you could use an extra set of hands.” The girl leaned on the counter and Makoto stepped back instinctively, not sure what was about to happen. “I might know a thing or two about coffee, and a couple other things about business management, if you’re interested.”
“Are you trying to apply?”
“... Maybe.”
Makoto started laughing. “That is easily the weirdest way anyone has ever applied here.” She leaned back against the counter behind her, putting all of her energy into having some kind of suave demeanor. “I’ll think about it, alright?”
Haru nodded. “Of course!”
Of course, Makoto already had an answer. She desperately needed more hands, more knowledge on how to run a business, more knowledge on how to make fucking coffee , but she couldn’t let it so easily go that she was that desperate. She had to pretend she had it at least a little bit under control or else she might scare Haru off with how poorly the establishment was managed.
“It’s funny though,” Haru said inquisitively, pulling Makoto out of her thoughts once again. “Most people I know avoid certain careers because of their exes. Why are you going into one? Do you still like him?”
“No, no no no,” Makoto said with a chuckle. “We’re still friends. The breakup was mutual, since I came out as gay and they came out as a couple things, we sort of realized we were better as friends, and it just ended up being a really clean breakoff, so we remained friends.” Makoto neglected to mention that the first time they… slept together , Akira had given her a high five afterwards because it was so weird.
(She was also really glad that the second person to find out about her… abilities was the best secret keeper she’d ever met. That, and his cat Morgana happened to be the same as Makoto, so it would be hypocritical of him to report her or out her.)
Haru’s cheeks turned pink and she wore an adorable smile. “That’s amazing! I’m glad you’re still friends, and that you’re gay.”
“What?”
Haru’s eyes widened. “What did I say?”
Makoto laughed. “You’re glad I’m gay?”
Haru turned an even brighter shade of pink. “W-well yeah! You know, I’m glad you can live your authentic truth, you know? That you can be you! The world is a much more colorful place with all kinds of people in it.”
She’s gay , Makoto immediately thought, before going into high speed doubt. Her blush could be nerves, she could be saying all those things to reinforce her allyship, whatever Makoto could come up with to not accept that Haru might actually be into her.
Their conversation fell slowly into something casual. Makoto loosened up a bit, felt more comfortable talking to the very very pretty girl in front of her, until it was time for Haru to leave. The moment Haru left, Makoto felt herself release a breath she had no clue she was holding until it was gone. Her chest felt lighter, her shoulders untensed, and everything relaxed. And then Haru came back in twenty seconds later and Makoto felt all that tension return.
“I forgot my keys!” She said with a smile. Makoto giggled, and Haru left again, and the coffee shop returned to mundane silence. A few customers here and there, but nothing as interesting or as captivating as Haru’s conversation. Makoto even tried to play something on the piano, but failed miserably to create anything of value. She closed the lid of the piano and began to lock up the store.
Thankfully, nobody ever bothered to question a dark brown cat boarding the Tokyo subway, because if they did then Makoto would be out her free rides. Makoto made a half decent amount of money at her job, but she was going to scam the system as much as she could. Plus, she got free pets from depressed high schoolers, and they seemed to always know the best spots (which were right behind her ears).
She’d somehow earned the name “Queen” by some of the regular rail operators. She supposed it had something to do with the little crown of fur around her ear, but there was no definitive answer. Someone came up with it behind her back and it ended up sticking.
Her apartment was quiet when she got home. It was an unusual thing to arrive home to. Normally her roommate, Ryuji Sakamoto, would be in the living room playing games or reading manga with music on loud, but for the first time she came home and it was dead silent.
She peered around looking for him. Not in the bathroom, his bedroom, her bedroom, any closet, nowhere. His shoes and keys were gone, though, so she assumed he went to the store and called it a day. She pulled off her bandana, changed out of her uncomfortable uniform and into a hoodie and sweatpants, and threw herself onto the couch with a manga and her phone set to random jazz. (On her phone was a text from Ryuji saying he’d be out with a friend when she got home, confirming her theory.)
A few hours passed and Ryuji burst into the apartment. “Wazzup?!” He shouted, definitely earning them a noise complaint.
Makoto’s ears perked up, sending bits of pain through her nerves from being restrained for eleven hours straight. “Welcome home, Sakamoto. What did you get up to today?” She said with an emphasized straight laced tone.
Ryuji chuckled nervously. “Woah, Prez, am I in trouble? What’s going on? You never call me Sakamoto.”
Makoto giggled. “Sorry, sorry, I’m just giving you a hard time.” She pushed herself off the couch and gave him a friendly hug before walking herself back to the couch. “Where did you go?”
The blond boy set his stuff down on the counter and opened the fridge. “I was hanging out with Akira and Ann. You remember them, right?”
“Akira yes, Ann no. Who’s she?” Makoto shouted into the kitchen.
Ryuji pulled a can of orange soda from the fridge and pushed it shut with his hips. “You’d love her, she’s—” He was interrupted by the ring of his phone: The ringtone he set for his boss . Makoto knew this was going to be good as he nervously picked up the phone. “Sakamoto speaking.”
Makoto, even from the distance, could hear his boss yelling. She had to stifle her laughter, knowing it would quite easily be picked up and her roommate might end up being in more trouble than he already is.
He hung up after apologizing profusely for “not calling in, I had food poisoning and ended up sleeping all day, I’m so sorry, I’ll be in tomorrow,” and Makoto immediately burst out laughing.
“You skipped work to hang out with your boyfriend?!” She shouted, so completely in hysterics that she almost fell off the couch.
Ryuji scowled back at her. “N-no! He’s not my boyfriend!” Of course, Makoto knew he was lying. She’d spend enough time listening to him brood over how pretty Akira was that she knew, even by the tint of his cheeks, they were together.
“I know you’re dating, Ryuji.” She stood up and patted him on the shoulder reassuringly. “It’s cute how much you care about him. I’m glad you’re happy.”
The boy gave a meek smile. “Thanks, Makoto.” His eyes trailed upwards to Makoto’s twitching ears, giving them a gentle scratch. “How are they feeling?”
The nekomata groaned. “I have to keep them wrapped up so tightly and every time that girl comes in they try to perk up and— UGHHH!!! It hurts…” She pouted, leaning into her friend’s gentle massage. “Thank you, Ryuji. That feels nice.”
“One day, Makoto,” he said. “One day you won’t have to wear that annoying hat, and everything will be fine.”
She pulled him into another hug. Ryuji was one of the only people that knew she was a nekomata, and he’d been incredibly helpful to her ever since he found out. She was lucky to be able to rely on him, especially in high school when she had to learn how all of human society worked in a short period and ended up being elected for Student Council President on top of that. The world became very tough very fast for her, and he was there for her to lean on. She would always be grateful for that.
The two ended up spending the evening watching Featherman, followed by various anime the two had been binging. Anything from Cowboy Bebop to Little Witch Academia to Soul Eater (Makoto’s personal favourite, what could she say, the magical cat was hot) and many things in between. Eventually, the sun set, and Makoto’s cat instincts kicked in and told her it was time to sleep. She wished Ryuji a goodnight and crawled into bed, letting herself doze off curled around a Buchimaru dakimakura.
She found herself back at the cafe. She didn’t remember coming here, and things were a little warbly, so she knew this must have been a dream. Piano chords and choruses filled the space, leading her eyes to see Haru seated on the bench, delicate hands against the ivory keys.
“What’cha playing?” She found herself asking.
“It’s a song I wrote for you,” Haru replied. “I haven’t decided on a name yet, though.”
Makoto sat on the bench next to Haru and found herself leaning on the pianist’s shoulder. She felt the brush of Haru’s soft hair against her ears, but for whatever reason, she wasn’t worried about them being out in the open. She felt safe.
“Hey.” Haru had stopped playing and was trying to get Makoto’s attention.
Makoto sat up and looked at the pianist. “Yes?”
And then Haru leaned in, closing the space between them. Her eyes lidded shut, and Makoto in turn felt herself leaning forwards as well.
And then she was awake. In bed. At home, alone, curled around a Buchimaru dakimakura, with her alarm beeping obnoxiously at her. She batted the alarm clock until it went quiet, leaving her in the silence of her room.
Her chest heaved. “What the hell was that?”
She got dressed, brushed her teeth, combed her hair, the whole shebang, and made her way once again to work. The early morning train ride was quiet as usual, as well as the walk to the shop. She hid herself behind a trash can before transforming back into her human self and unlocked the shop, preparing to start the day.
But a nagging thought continued to distract her as she went through the opening procedures. The warmth of her dream. The feeling of safety. The sound of Haru’s playing. All of it stayed firmly and rang loudly in the back of her mind. The feeling of tension without release as they were about to—Makoto chose not to think about that part of the dream.
It was weird, right? Having a dream like that about a customer? If she were a close friend, maybe, but a customer? No, that was weird. She texted Ryuji, who said it wasn’t all that weird, but what did he know?
The first few customers filed in. All regulars, so she had their orders ready by muscle memory, which meant she didn’t need to think. Thank god for that one, because if she needed any amount of her brain capacity right now, she’d be doomed.
She tried her best to push it all back, and for a bit it had worked, until exactly 10:27am when she randomly started making a fresh cup of coffee. Why was she making coffee? Nobody ordered it, who was it—
The bell above the door rang. Makoto looked over. It was Haru.
Oh. Of course . Of course she’d accidentally memorized whenever Haru arrived. Of course she had memorized when to start making her order so it was ready by the time she’d arrived. Of course she hadn’t even charged her today like the dumb gay mess she was.
“Here, it’s on the house today!” She chirped at her hopeless crush.
Haru smiled, and Makoto wanted to die. “What’s the occasion?” she said in her stupidly sweet and stupidly adorable voice.
Makoto’s ears hurt. “No occasion in particular, just felt like it, y’know?”
Haru sipped at her coffee, humming an appreciative noise that somehow made Makoto fall even harder. “I see! Well, to no occasion in particular then!” She raised the mug, and Makoto clinked it with her knuckle.
“Cheers.”
And of course, because the world hated her, Makoto remembered the perfect opportunity to spend more time with Haru she had sitting on her desk waiting to be abused for sapphic intentions. And of course, because she hated herself apparently, she started speaking.
“By the way, are you still interested in working here?”
Haru perked up, her eyes shooting open with interest. “Of course!”
“Well, consider yourself hired!”
Fuck. I’m such an idiot.