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Akira kind of hated Tokyo. It was huge, complex, and exciting, practically bursting with the potential to give Akira the sort of thrills he could never get back home. Every single neighborhood was bright, lively, and absolutely full of things to do and discover. But despite the fact that Tokyo seemed to offer so much that Akira had been chomping at the bit his whole life to experience, the fact remained that it was his prison. No matter how colorful the walls were, it was still a solitary confinement cell.
The gossip at school was suffocating, and although he’d done his best to approach it with a cheeky smile, as he often approached things that posed a challenge to him, the rejection and isolation were wearing him down. It made him miss home, where he wasn’t even noticed. Oh what Akira wouldn’t give to go back home, back in time before the charge. He missed being tolerated. He felt foolish for ever wishing to be seen.
His one comfort, if it could be called that, came in the form of Sojiro Sakura. He was far from the warmest of caregivers, but he didn’t simply tolerate Akira. In fact, when Akira first arrived at Leblanc, Sojiro’s active annoyance at his presence was already better in his book than being looked through like he didn’t even exist by his parents. Sojiro talked to Akira, made intensely delicious curry, and even gave Akira something unexpectedly interesting to focus his energy on in the form of a pseudo-mentorship in the art of coffee.
So, Akira didn’t mind helping out at the coffee shop. Washing dishes wasn’t fun, but it was something to do. That was how he could define almost all his activities. The three part-time jobs he’d picked up. Reading in the school library surrounded by whispers. Tracking down a cat-snatcher in Yongen when he noticed some of the usual strays going missing. It was all just stuff to do. If anything, it would probably be a blessing in a few years to have his year of probation remembered as nothing but an absolute bore.
“I’m going to close up early,” Sojiro said, pulling Akira’s attention away from his chore. “I need to do some grocery shopping before all the shops close.”
“Did I get the wrong stuff?” Akira asked quietly. He’d been sent to retrieve ingredients for the store that afternoon, and he was so sure that he’d gotten it right…
“No, nothing like that,” Sojiro reassured him. “You got everything right. They’re for me and my kid.”
Akira hummed noncommittally in response. He didn’t miss how Sojiro’s brow furrowed in concern at the mention of… Futaba, was it? Sojiro had only mentioned her once, in an awkward attempt to make conversation with him while they shared dinner in the empty cafe one night. It had been an act of pity –– there was no doubting that. Sojiro must have noticed how he came right back from school every day he wasn’t working a job, only to hide up in the attic to fiddle with the tools at the workbench, do his homework at a booth, or resign himself to busy work in the cafe just to keep doing something.
The sound of the shop bell ringing caused Akira to look up from where his gaze had rooted itself on his shoes. A well-dressed boy who couldn’t be a lot older than him entered the cafe. He stopped in the doorway, eyeing Sojiro, who was in the process of removing his apron.
“Oh, are you closing up early?” the boy said. His voice was light and almost melodic. Upon closer inspection, it was immediately apparent that the boy was quite good-looking. He had a pristine sort of aura around him, his soft-looking brown hair brushing against his neck, his school uniform neat and wrinkle-free, and his skin so flawless that he was either wearing makeup or had a hell of a skin routine. Akira couldn’t help but feel a little entranced.
“I was about to,” Sojiro said. “Sorry, kid––”
“I can serve him,” Akira piped up. This opportunity was too rare to pass up. He never got the chance to talk with someone his own age who didn’t attend Shujin, aside from that one time a guy in a Kosei uniform had approached him requesting he nude model for him before being dragged away –– quite literally –– by Takamaki from his homeroom class. It was a shame. Akira would have probably been down for that, and he didn’t even get a good enough look at the guy to track him down again.
Not this time, Akira thought to himself. I’m going to flirt with this beautiful stranger or die trying.
“Are you sure?” Sojiro asked. “I mean, I trust you with the shop and all, but it is a school night.”
Akira nodded mutely, feeling his jaw set with new determination. He spared a glance over at the boy and startled a bit when they locked eyes.
The other boy, at first glance, was unassuming and appeared almost demure, but that stare quickly whisked away any notion Akira had that the boy was simply what he appeared to be. His gaze was intense, his rich ruby eyes boring into Akira like a blade. It felt like the boy was trying to cut open his chest and scrutinize his soul with his eyes alone. And that visceral gaze was paired with a cute little friendly smile.
Oh boy.
“Alright then,” Sojiro conceded. Then he turned to address the boy, offering a warm smile as he walked out from behind the counter. “Don’t let him charge you full price if what he serves you isn’t up to par.”
The boy let out a polite little giggle, bringing a hand to cover his mouth as he did. Akira noted the dark leather gloves the boy was wearing and wondered what purpose they served. Just a fashion statement, perhaps? They did look expensive. Akira kind of wanted to hold the boy’s hand and gently slip them off.
As Sojiro slipped out the door, grumbling about a grocery list, the boy entered the coffee shop more properly, looking around at the old furniture and shelves upon shelves of coffee beans. Akira had assumed the boy was carrying himself with perfect posture and grace because an adult was present, but even then, with just the two of them, the boy stood perfectly straight, like there was a spider’s thread attached to the top of his head forcing his spine upright. He seemed… guarded. He also seemed just a little familiar, Akira realized.
“Have I seen you somewhere before?” Akira asked. Then he cringed. That sounded like a pickup line. It was too early in the conversation for a pickup line.
The boy turned his attention back to Akira and tilted his head a little, indicating his confusion.
“Perhaps,” the boy responded. “I get that a lot.”
Something about his vague, diplomatic response tugged at Akira’s brain. He must have seen this boy somewhere… he was almost sure of it now.
“Oh, that’s right,” Akira said, suddenly remembering. “You’re that detective that’s after the Phantom Thieves.” Akira remembered that specifically. Sakamoto and Takamaki had been far from subtle in their distaste for the detective’s opinions of their weird vigilante group. They’d almost sounded offended when Akira had dared voice his own opinion. It was an… interesting school day, all in all.
“My class went to the taping of one of your TV interviews,” Akira elaborated. “That’s why you look familiar.”
The boy slipped onto the stool right across from Akira, smiling thinly.
“You must attend Shujin, then,” the boy said. “Well, allow me to reintroduce myself. I’m Goro Akechi. I have to say, it’s a bit embarrassing that your initial impression of me came from the way I conduct myself in an interview.”
“You kind of look like you’re in an interview now,” Akira noted, leaning on the counter and rolling his shoulders. Akechi looked like he could stand to loosen up, just a bit. Maybe that was Akira’s in.
“How… astute…” Akechi said. His gaze drifted to the side, lips settling into a neutral expression. “I’ll admit, with so many eyes on me, it’s hard to know how to act sometimes.”
Akira let out a low hum of agreement. Tailoring himself to appease others was something he understood far too well. It didn’t matter if Akira himself had nothing of value to offer people if he could be whatever others needed him to be first. Striking up a conversation with Akechi would grant him that familiarity. He just needed to figure out what Akechi wanted him to be, which mask to slip on. He decided to go with “cute flirtatious barista” and see where it led him. If it didn’t work, that was fine. Akira had always been good at adapting. Akechi was definitely interesting and cute enough to be worth the trouble.
“Anyway, what can I get you?” Akira said, brushing his apron down and forcing an easy smile to try to dispel the suddenly-too-serious mood.
“House blend, please,” Akechi said.
“Good choice,” Akira said, winking. Akechi blinked back at him, his eyes growing nearly imperceptibly wider. Yes, this mask would work just fine. Akira readjusted his apron briefly before retrieving the proper jar of beans and getting to work preparing the drink.
“This is quite a nice little place,” Akechi mused. “It’s rather homey, don’t you think? It’s my first time here, but it still has a sort of strange nostalgia about it.”
“I guess,” Akira said. To each their own. Akira didn’t even know what home looked like to him. Akechi reached over for one of the pieces sitting on the never-touched chess set that occupied some space on the counter.
“Do you play?” Akechi asked.
“Not really,” Akira said.
His answer seemed to displease Akechi, whose smile dropped a bit into a subtle frown. Akira felt a shiver run through him as he began carefully pouring the hot water over the fine grind of beans. It felt like he’d failed some sort of test he wasn’t even informed about. Was Akechi the sort of person who liked to be challenged? Akira should have said “yes” to the game, but it was too late now. It was no matter. He could adjust accordingly.
“I haven’t been working here that long,” Akira said. “But I’m a quick learner. This coffee is going to be the best you’ve ever had. Guaranteed.” There was absolutely no way Akira’s coffee would live up to the expectations he himself was setting in place, but Akira could already tell the new mask was bringing a new spark to Akechi’s face.
“You’re rather sure of yourself,” Akechi said. “Your boss didn’t seem to have the same faith in you. I was operating under the assumption that I wouldn’t be paying full price.”
Akira wondered if anyone in the media knew that Goro Akechi, Second Detective Prince, was a competitive little shit.
“If it’s not up to your standards, it’s on me,” Akira said. “How’s that? But you have to be honest, Akechi-san.”
Akechi let out a sharp little laugh, a lot rougher and far more authentic-sounding than his polite chuckles.
“You have my word,” Akechi said. “I hope you’re paid well at this job. I may be ordering more than one.”
“I’ll take that challenge,” Akira said.
Akechi looked like he was going to respond, but he was cut off by the ping of his cell phone. Sighing, he pulled it out from his pocket. Whatever was on the screen, it made Akechi immediately grimace. It was more than a little jarring to see such a harsh, passionate expression on the minor celebrity’s face that Akira nearly knocked over the cup of coffee as he finished preparing it.
“Well, that’s not a very pretty face,” Akira commented cheekily.
“Ah, pardon me,” Akechi said, quickly overturning his phone. He looked a little flustered that he was caught with his defenses down.
“Something wrong?” Akira asked. He knew it was a gamble, prying like that, but people often confided in him, even unprompted. It only felt fair to eventually just start actively inviting it, so people wouldn’t worry so much that they were burdening him.
“Not really. It was a message from a peer that was likely intended to get on my nerves. I’ve found myself working with a particularly difficult group, you see. We are all working toward a common end, but none of us are particularly happy with the arrangement. I’ve found that the others can’t keep up with me, and they all, in turn, resent me for that. And… well, it’s a bit hard to admit, but I’m not the easiest person to get along with. It makes working together with them a challenge at the best of times.”
“Is it like an assigned team for a group project?” Akira asked.
“Of sorts,” Akechi said, like that was an answer that made any sense whatsoever.
Akira nodded along, absentmindedly adding milk and sugar to the coffee, not really thinking anything of it. Then he stopped himself. Akechi hadn’t asked for anything in his coffee. What was he doing? He was screwing this all up.
“Shoot,” Akira said aloud. “I… don’t know why I did that.”
“Did what?” Akechi asked.
“I added milk and sugar to the coffee, but you didn’t ask for any. I just… did it on autopilot, I guess. I’ll make you a fresh one, though. I’m so sorry.”
Akechi held up a placating hand. He had that deep, almost disturbingly potent look in his eyes again as he sized Akira up.
“That’s how I usually take my coffee,” Akechi said.
“Really?” Akira asked. He looked down at the steaming beverage, then back at Akechi. “Well, alright. I guess I got lucky.” He carefully pushed the drink across the counter, and Akechi’s gloved hand silently reached for it and curled around the handle.
“Yes,” Akechi said. “I suppose you did.”
Akira couldn’t help but watch intently as Akechi took a sip of coffee and seemed to contemplate the taste. The fingers of his free hand drummed idly on the counter. The motion was mesmerizing. Akira thought to himself that Goro Akechi must have been a siren in a past life.
“Well?” Akira said.
“It’s good,” Akechi said. “But I believe you promised me it would be ‘the best I’ve ever had’, and I’m afraid that it isn’t.”
“Impossible,” Akira said with an exaggerated pout. “Who could have possibly outdone me when it comes to coffee?”
“Someone I met last year,” Akechi said cooly. He paused to take another sip. “His coffee is the best I’ve ever had. He’s the only person I’ve ever met who was able to match me in every way.”
“But you didn’t come to him tonight?”
“We’ve lost contact, I’m afraid,” Akechi said. He took another sip of his coffee, then flashed a grin at Akira, tucking some of his hair behind his ear. “But it’s no matter. After all, you’ve promised to pay for coffee you give me that isn’t up to my standard, correct? Or are you going to back out?”
“I keep my promises,” Akira said with conviction.
“Yes,” Akechi agreed. “You… seem like the sort of person who would.”
Akechi looked over at the chess set again, his expression unreadable. Akira wondered if he was still annoyed that Akira didn’t know how to play. Maybe it was something he could Google.
“I’m going to keep getting better,” Akira said. Present a challenge, he told himself. Be what Akechi wants. “I hope my attempt wasn’t so bad that it will drive you away.”
“On the contrary,” Akechi reassured him. Akira’s heart fluttered a little. He’d be able to see Akechi again, and be able to share more conversation with someone in Tokyo who was genuinely pleasant.
“You mean it?”
“Of course. I can hardly let our wager end here,” Akechi said, his smile growing teeth. Akira grinned back. The media always heralded Akechi as a young genius. It made sense that he felt his peers couldn’t keep up with him, and would seek out someone who could provide him friendly competition. Perhaps that’s what Akira had to be. He could do that, easily, even if that meant paying for all of Akechi’s coffee.
“I’m glad you’re willing to come back to a place where you can extort free coffee out of me,” Akira teased.
“It’s not just that,” Akechi said. Akira noted that he was sliding his easy, close-lipped, fake smile into place again. “I wasn’t just making small talk when I said this place has a homey feel to it. I don’t have a lot of quiet places to escape to. My schedule is quite packed, and now that the Phantom Thieves have changed Okumura’s heart...well, I can see the writing on the wall. I doubt they’ll be slowing down anytime soon, and I’ve denounced them publicly. It wouldn’t surprise me if the public turns hostile towards me.”
“Oh,” Akira said quietly. “Do you really think so?”
“It’s an inevitability,” Akechi said simply. He finished his cup of coffee with a prolonged sip and let his eyes drift shut as he sighed. “But it’s nothing I can’t handle. It will just… help. Having a place to think and be alone.”
Akira had miscalculated then. Akechi wasn’t averse to the flirting or the competition, but he didn’t need those things from Akira.
“That isn’t to say I haven’t enjoyed talking to you, Kurusu-kun,” Akechi said. Akira stiffened a bit. He had let the ill-fitting mask slip, and Akechi had noticed the hurt behind the cheap plastic. Well, he wasn’t a detective for nothing, Akira supposed.
Akechi stood up from the stool, carefully pushed it back into place, and smoothed out the wrinkles in his school uniform. Akira quietly slid on the mask of “friendly customer service worker” and told himself that it would be enough.
“Sorry for talking your ear off,” Akira said. “Have a good night, Akechi-san. Be safe getting back home.”
All he got in response was a friendly nod and a detached smile. Then Akechi was gone, having slipped out the door and into the night outside. Akira took Akechi’s cup and washed it in the sink, letting his fingers trace the rim fondly. It had been a nice evening after all. Even if Akira had stumbled through the conversation like a newborn kitten.
Heaving out a sigh, Akira replaced the cup on the shelf with the clean ones and went through the motions to close up the shop. When he stepped outside to flip the sign to “Closed”, he looked toward the station and wondered where Akechi lived. He also spared a glance at everything he could see from Leblanc’s entrance and wondered what it would be like to take advantage of what Tokyo had to offer him, even in a small neighborhood like Yongen-Jaya. But what was the point? It was just more stuff to do, more daily white noise to keep him from thinking.
Akira retreated back into Leblanc and dragged himself up to the empty, dusty attic. Suddenly feeling exhausted, he collapsed on the mattress and milk crates Sojiro dared to call a “bed”. His first real conversation with someone his age in Tokyo had felt like a car crash in slow motion. He hadn’t been able to figure Akechi out like he’d wanted. Akechi, just like everyone else, wanted something from him, that much was clear, but Akira hadn’t been able to figure out what that was. He was so all over the place, switching masks clumsily, that he couldn’t even remember half of the conversation. He didn’t even remember introducing himself.
Akira was just glad he hadn’t driven Akechi away.
Everything was cold and quiet as he drifted away to sleep. Since leaving his hometown, Akira’s sleep had been starkly empty. Long periods of nothing, sometimes tinged in faint flickering blue. But that night, he dreamed of the rich smell of coffee beans, hot summer evenings, and crimson eyes.