Work Text:
Sojiro isn’t a nagger.
He disagrees with parents who constantly tell their children what they should or shouldn’t do. Being a young man himself once, he fully understands the inevitability of teenage rebellion: The more you are told not to do certain things, the more inclined you feel like doing it, either to test the boundary or just to spite the adults.
Fortunately enough, the two kids he has are already past that stage of their teen years. Sure, Futaba still has her issue with social intercourse, but at least she listens to Sojiro and isn’t that of a handful. Akira isn’t anything near the unruly delinquent he initially expected him to be either. Well-mannered, docile, smart and independent, he quickly proved himself to be a great kid, even a role model for Futaba to look up to.
Akira is no troublemaker per se, but certainly a trouble magnet. Sojiro recalls only a week after his arrival, how he came home one night looking beat, scrapes and scratches littering across his face and hands. The old barista has given him a lecture about staying out of trouble or he’d be kicked out, only to regret his reaction half year later when he finally found out those wounds were a result of his lack of self-preservation for the sake of his schoolmates. Over time Sojiro learns the kid has an inapt habit of making solving every problem of all his friends his mission. And to top it off the act is usually achieved at the expense of his own rest time and even health. So yeah, when it comes to Akira’s well-being, Sojiro can’t help but turns into a worrywart.
“You’re not responsible for everyone’s welfare, you know,” Sojiro has tried to tell the kid to ease up on all the meet-ups and part-time jobs and volunteering over a cup of coffee one day. “You’re just a teenager. Go do things you like and for yourself.”
Akira has looked down at his coffee with a smile, “This is what I like to do.”
Sojiro has sighed internally at that time, leaving it at that.
He knows at this rate Akira will burn himself out sooner or later. It has taken longer than expected, but the day has come at last.
It is a school day, and a school day usually means by the time Sojiro puts down the curry and coffee he prepares for Akira as breakfast on the counter, he and Morgana would have come down. So when he has done that and flipped the café’s sign to ‘OPEN’ yet there is still no sign of the duo, Sojiro knows something is up. Still, he pushes down the uneasy feeling, trudges up the staircase leading to the attic while shouting in a casual tone, “Come on kid, you’re gonna be late for school if you don’t--”
Sojiro’s stomach drops when he reaches the top of the stairs. The cat is sitting on the bed kneeding a large lump that’s believed to be Akira under the blanket. Crossing the room in a few strides verifies his guess. The kid is curled up on his side under the blanket, only the upper half of his face and his mop of frizzy hair visible.
“Kid?” Sojiro touches his shoulder and gives a gentle shake. When there is no response, he peels the blanket away to take a better look at him--cheeks flushed, curly bangs plastered to his forehead, breathing a little heavy, sweat soaked through his shirt. Hell, the kid is definitely sick.
Dammit. He looked completely fine last night at dinner, Sojiro recalls, inwardly chiding himself for not being more attentive to his charge. Morgana seems to be sensing his thought as he gives him a knowing meow, as if saying, Don’t blame yourself, Boss. You know how good he is at hiding his distress.
Sojiro sighs. Right, now isn’t the time to dwell on guilt--Akira needs him.
So he places his hand on his shoulder again, feeling the warmth radiating through his shirt. “Akira?” He tries again, louder this time.
“Hmm…” Slowly, the teenager stirs and turns his head to the source of voice. It takes a moment, but Sojiro is finally met with a pair of glazed gray eyes. “…Sojiro?” The kid croaks, looking disoriented, but he is at least lucid. Sojiro lets out a breath he isn't aware he’s been holding.
“Hey, good morning.”
“Wh-What time is it…?”
“Half past seven.”
Akira’s eyes turn comically wide at his words. “Shit!” Then he suddenly shots upright. “S-Sorry, I’ll get ready for school.”
“No you won’t.” Sojiro orders softly while pushing him down until he is lying on his back. “Lie back down. You’re clearly under the weather.”
“But--I, I have Algebra test today, and part-time job after school…!”
Even in his weakened state all the kid can think of are school and work. Sometimes Sojiro wonders how a sixteen-year-old boy has more sense of responsibility than most adults. “And both of which can be rescheduled. I’ll call your school and let your homeroom teacher know you’re taking a sick day. I’m sure she’ll understand.”
For a brief moment the kid looks like he is about to argue, but gives in eventually, letting out a sigh that turns into a wet coughing fit. Sojiro waits until it passes before placing a hand on his forehand. Exhausted from the cough, Akira only watches his movement languidly with glassy eyes.
“Yep, definitely a fever.” Sojiro tsk-tsks, and pulls the blanket up to drape over his chest. “Now stay here and rest. No getting out of bed while I fetch you water and medicine.”
Akira hums groggily, already feeling the lull of sleep. Sojiro turns to Morgana, “Keep him out of trouble while I’m away, alright?”
The non-cat meows dutifully, and pads to sit on top of Akira’s stomach, effectively pinning him down by becoming a feline-shaped paperweight.
“Ugh…I swear Morgana, you're getting heavier these days…”
The cat gives a hiss, but nonetheless doesn’t move from his spot.
Five minutes later when Sojiro returns with a thermometer, a glass of water, some cold medicine, a bowl of soup and a plate of cat food, he isn't surprised to find Akira on his phone instead of sleeping.
“Hey, what’d I say about resting?”
“Just letting Ann and Ryuji know I won’t be at school today, and calling in sick to work…” Akira rasps out. “You didn’t say I can’t use my phone.”
“Don’t be a smartass. Want me to confiscate it?” Sojiro warns with no bite.
The kid hides his phone under his blanket.
Sojiro puts the cat food on the floor--Morgana immediately jumps down to claim his breakfast--and the rest of the stuff on the nightstand, except for the thermometer which he holds out to Akira. “You know what to do.”
Akira gingerly sits up and opens his mouth without any fuss. When the thermometer beeps after a minute or two, Sojiro frowns at the reading, “38.6°C. If it goes any higher we’re going to see Dr. Takemi.”
“It’s not that bad,” Akira croaks. Sojiro arches an eyebrow. As if his body wants to call out his blatant lie, another violent coughing fit comes on all of a sudden. It goes on for longer than last time, leaving him tired and shivering. Sojiro grimaces at the poor kid.
“Okay…maybe it is a little bad,” Akira says pitifully, looking like a sulking little child. It reminds him of those times Futaba fell ill when she was younger, when Wakaba couldn’t get away from work, entrusting Sojiro to take care of the bedfast girl. She would pout and whine while sniffing and coughing miserably, just like Akira now.
“Here, eat the soup and then you can take the meds.”
“…Um, Sojiro?”
“Yeah, kid?”
“You know you don’t have to feed me, right…? I can eat by myself. I promise I won’t spill it on the sheet or something,” Akira says with a hint of teasing tone.
Sojiro huffs, “You better not,” and then hands the bowl to Akira. Futaba liked to be fed when she was bedridden, but there is no need to tell the kid that.
“Behave yourself then. Remember to take your meds and drink plenty of water. I’ll come back to check up on you later. If you need anything, just yell--or don’t, your throat’ll probably explode if you do…er, have Morgana come get me, or just send me a text instead, ‘right? I’ll keep my phone on me.” Damn, he is nagging like an annoying parent now.
“Yes, Dad.”
Despite being a half joke, the remark catches Sojiro off guard. He’d be lying if he says the term doesn’t fill his aging heart with warmth. Unsure of how to respond, he opts to ruffle the boy's messy curls. Akira doesn't turn away; if anything, he seems to be leaning into the touch.
As Sojiro begins descending down the stairs, Akira calls after him, voice softer yet more sincere this time, “Thank you, Sojiro.”
An hour later, Sojiro goes upstairs again to check up on the kid to find him fast asleep, the cat curled up into a fur ball against his side. His breathing is a little ragged and his cheeks are tinted pink, but otherwise his expression is peaceful. With one last look, the old man takes the empty bowl and plate away as quietly as possible.
He debates about whether to close up shop, but considering Akira would probably be sleeping the day off and business has been slow lately, it won’t make a difference anyway. Might as well keep the place open and stay busy to prevent himself from worrying about him too much.
It is well past lunch hour when Sojiro looks up from his crossword puzzle to see Akira comes wobbling down, his movement sluggish and swaying slightly on his feet.
“Hey, you shouldn’t be up.”
“I, er…need to use the bathroom.” He still looks slightly flushed, either from the fever or embarrassment, or both.
“…Right, you need a hand?”
“Nah…I’m fine…” he says, slowing making his way to the cramped bathroom.
Sojiro has just convinced his mind to stop overthinking and is about to get back to his crossword, when the sound of painful retching comes from the bathroom. He immediately shoots up from the bar stool to rush to knock on the bathroom door. “Kid? You alright in there?”
More throwing up. Followed by a few wet coughs. “Y-Yea…j-just need a minute…”
When Akira reappears from the bathroom some time later, face ashen and torso shuddering looking like his legs are about to give out, Sojiro feels like his gut has been punched. Without saying a word, he maneuvers the boy’s arm under his shoulders, practically carrying half of his weight as he helps him climb up the staircase and lie down on the bed.
“Sorry, ‘jiro…” Akira says, voice croaky. His chest is rising and falling a little too quickly too. “D-Didn’t mean to cause you so much trouble…”
“Shh, none of that. You just need to focus on getting better.” Thankfully, the kid drifts back to his slumber soon. Sojiro stays for another while, watching the sleeping teen along with his cat purring by his side.
He comes back down to the café area after making sure Akira won’t be waking up soon, only to be greeted by his phone’s repetitive buzzing. He takes it out to find it is her daughter texting him.
Futaba: Sojiro!!! Akira’s sick!?
Futaba: Why didn’t you tell me!?
Sojiro: Because he needs to rest. So did you since you stayed up all night doing god knows what last night.
Futaba: Fiiiiiiiiiine
Futaba: I’ll wait until school ends n come visit him with everyone then ψ( ` ∇ ´ )ψ
-----
To Sojiro’s relief, Akira’s fever breaks around the time the sun sets.
“37.7°C,” he reads the thermometer, letting out a sigh. “It’s much lower than this morning, but you still need to take the pill, just to be safe.”
Akira nods and does as he is told, slowly downing the whole glass of water Sojiro brought him. The old barista takes the opportunity to observe the kid--he does look better now. Some color has returned to his pale skin and his eyes are more focused, though it is clear he is still sluggish from sleep. Another sign of improvement is the low rumble coming from his stomach.
Sojiro chuckles. “You hungry, kid? I can make some porridge. Will be easy on your stomach.”
“…Yes, please,” Akira says, voice a mumble like he is embarrassed.
“Alright, shouldn’t take long,” he pats the kid’s knee a few times, before hearing the door bell jingles and the ruckus of a bunch of teenagers from downstairs. “Probably Futaba and your friends. You up for visitors?”
“Yeah.” His features visibly light up.
And before Sojiro can reach the stairs, a certain faux blonde blocks the path by trotting up two steps at a time, his signature chirpy voice ringing the attic, “Yo Akira! We come bearing gifts--Ah, Boss! We're here to see Akira!”
“I can see that.”
Without missing a beat, the rest of the gang appears and makes themselves known with their back-and-forth blather.
“Ryuji, you’re too loud! What if Akira was napping!?”
“Don’t shout around a sick person, you dummy!”
“Ah…er, sorry, dude.”
“Good afternoon, Boss. I apologize for us barging in like that.”
“How’re you feeling, Akira?”
“I hope we’re not interrupting your rest, Leader.”
“Sojiroooo, I demand curry!!!”
Sojiro shakes his head with fond exasperation as he sneaks back down to the kitchen. With friends like them staying with Akira, it seems like he doesn’t need to worry too much indeed. The kid will be fine.
What he can do right now is probably close up shop early and make some curry (and porridge) to keep the children fed.