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Kita Shinsuke’s life is one of routine.
In the morning, he opens his cafe. The door jingles as he unlocks the entrance and makes his way inside. He starts the first pot of coffee and begins his daily ritual of cleaning every surface down as the rich aroma begins wafting through the cold air. Every morning it’s like this.
Kita loves his regular customers. The ones who come in at the exact same time and order the exact same thing. He has one customer who arrives right as his opening tasks have finished and orders a simple hot cappuccino. And another that comes in a few hours later and orders an iced chai latte -- different syrups but the base is always the same.
Every morning.
Kita has other customers that come in throughout the day. Except with these customers the orders are always different.
“A medium iced matcha latte with vanilla syrup and light ice.” The target has been executed and the mission has been completed without incident.
“A small americano with an extra shot of espresso.” There was a witness that had to have been dealt with.
“A large iced mocha latte with whip cream.” Further back up is required to complete this mission and execute the target.
Taking orders like these, it’s all part of the routine. And giving orders is a part of the routine too.
Kita gets phone calls every afternoon -- like clockwork. He answers on the fourth ring and the voice waits a few seconds before it begins talking. Kita responds simply and he never, never writes down the messages. Simply passes them on to his “customers.”
Kageyama Tobio. Sugawara Koushi. Oikawa Tooru. Akaashi Keiji. Kozume Kenma.
Kita has been taking care of Miya Atsumu the longest.
He doesn’t know much about Atsumu’s past. That’s how it is with all of his charges. It’s the best that way -- the safest.
Atsumu walks into his cafe one day, dirt painting his cheeks and holes in his shoes and eyes that were far too young. But still weary and hardened and untrusting. Kita knows he has a brother to take care of. And that drive to keep them fed and off the streets is enough to do anything, even staining his hands with warm blood.
“A large white mocha with caramel drizzle,” Atsumu mumbles to him after his first mission, voice high-pitched and wet. The dirt’s gone from his cheeks, but he can’t stop staring at the ground. Kita doesn’t need to, but he gives Atsumu a hot chocolate to go -- and an extra one for his brother too.
A few missions later, Atsumu’s eyes are hardened still. A touch of blood marking the back of his ear. Brand new shoes.
He looks sick. The sort of sick that won’t go away with medicine. Kita gives him a sandwich for the road.
He does that sometimes for his charges, the people who take missions from his cafe. He does things like that for Atsumu till he’s cocky and loud and a little bit obnoxious, till his mask is attached so well, till his eyes are so cold, he knows Atsumu won’t break under all the blood on his hands.
Kita simply hears orders. He gives them out. And he hears cafe orders back in turn. That’s the routine.
Kita isn’t meant to care.
His charges have been coming into his cafe more frequently these days. It’s different, but Kita’s still able to keep to his routine. He cleans and makes orders and greets every customer with a polite nod.
Oikawa orders with a choked laugh. Another mission complete. Akaashi wrings his hands as he orders. Another mission complete. Sugawara is oddly quiet when he orders. Another mission complete.
More missions. More orders. More than there’s ever been before. Kita keeps to his routine.
It’s a strange day when Kita arrives to open his cafe and Atsumu is waiting at the door. He’s leaning against it, a small, welcoming smirk on his face. It’s familiar. Atsumu there, so early in the morning, when the sun’s light has hardly danced past the horizon, is not.
A shift in his routine.
“G’morning, Kita!” Atsumu greets him, grinning. “Lovely morning, ain’t it?”
Kita nods politely. He tries to hide it, but he knows he’s wearing the smallest of smiles. “Good morning, Atsumu. Are you well?”
Atsumu is still grinning as he responds, “Ya, of course! Just wanted to see ya before headin’ off for a bit.”
Some missions take his charges away for days. Some for months at a time.
Sometimes Kita knows the details of their missions. And sometimes he doesn’t. He doesn’t ask questions. It’s not a part of the routine.
But no one’s ever seen him off before a mission. Not even Atsumu.
Kita can’t help it as his heart warms a little bit. He opens the door for them both and Atsumu leans against the counter as he begins his opening tasks. Kita starts the coffee as always. “Do you have an order?”
“Not an order like one of those, y’know?” Atsumu responds with a chuckle. “But maybe some hot chocolate for the both of us?”
Kita nods and complies with the request. He knows Atsumu like his extra hot and with extra whip cream; he once commented that’s how his brother made it for him when they had enough pennies to spare on luxuries. Hopefully now they have enough money to spare on it, even if they’re not getting it from his cafe.
He sets the two cups on the counter before going off to finish his opening tasks. They make idle chatter as Kita cleans. Wiping the tables. Refilling the napkin holders. Sweeping the floors.
Atsumu’s good at filling that silence. “And Osa- ahem, my brother’s cooking is really something else! I dunno how he does it, but it’s really good. He’s been trying out this new recipe…”
Kita takes a sip of his hot chocolate between each task. He lets the drink warm his stomach on the cool morning. He lets Atsumu’s words fill the air between them.
He hates shifts in his routine. Maybe this one is a little bit of a good one.
Ten minutes from now, his first customer -- a simple hot cappuccino -- will show up. Atsumu’s long since finished his drink, but he’s still there regaling him with another story of an adventure he and his brother have gotten up to.
Kita takes another sip of hot chocolate and it burns as it goes down his throat. The drink is sitting heavily in his stomach now. The once cool air of the morning feels itchy and hot around him.
He stumbles as he puts his broom away, just barely catching the counter.
“I apologize,” Kita says slowly, each word heavy in his throat. “I may have caught something.”
He knows that’s not true. It can’t be. He’s not an idiot. But thinking otherwise is worse.
Atsumu is immediately at his side, settling him down onto the ground, back propped against the counter. “Hey, hey. Take it easy, ‘kay?” Atsumu grabs the mugs, cleans them, and returns them to their place near the coffee machine.
He’s sweating now, his throat slowly swelling as he tries to overcome the effort to breathe, just breathe. Just get some air in his lungs. Kita’s heart thunders in his chest. And it’s not from confusion or panic or fear, but the tremendous effort to keep him alive.
“Atsumu?” He asks, barely above a whisper. He chokes on the word.
He walks back in front of him, sitting down so they’re at the same level. “It’s orders from above you. Above any of us, Kita,” Atsumu says. There’s an unsteadiness to his voice that Kita knows only a few can read. “This location’s been compromised and y’know, they’re cleanin’ things up. Cleanin’ everything up. They wanted someone else to do it -- Oikawa or Kageyama. But I volunteered myself… I’m sorry, Kita.”
The look in his eyes has been cold for years. Whether he’s laughing or smiling or smirking, it’s always been with cold eyes. But now, the look Atsumu gives him is indescribable.
Kita gasps out a choked, wheezing breath that burns through his shaking body.
The door jingles as Atsumu leaves. He doesn’t look back.
A shift in routine.