Chapter Text
Tsumugi’s new employee orientation was not going the way she expected. After shadowing her new manager Narumi all day and helping him close, he pointed at one of the coffee shop’s tables and told her to sit.
“I need a smoke first,” Narumi said. “Misao, get her started.”
Misao was Tsumugi’s new coworker, who had cute dimples but had not spoken much the entire day. She nodded at Narumi’s retreating back and turned to the espresso machine.
“I don’t want…” Tsumugi started. Misao ignored her. “But we just cleaned up…”
Misao continued to ignore her protests and steamed some milk. Tsumugi sat at the table and stared at her hands. The perpetual rain of Ame made running errands and going to and from work annoying, but as it pattered against the windows, it gave the coffee shop a cozy feeling that Tsumugi found charming.
A few minutes later, Misao set three espresso cups down in front of Tsumugi, each containing some sort of mini-latte. The coffee shop’s logo— a cartoon salamander holding an umbrella— smiled up at her from the sides of the cups.
“Butterscotch,” Misao said, pointing at the one to the left. Then she pointed at the middle. “Cherry mocha.” Finally, she pointed at the one at the right. “Lavender honey.”
“Do we sell any of these flavors?” Tsumugi asked, confused. They weren’t on the menu she’d memorized, and she hadn’t noticed any of them with their in-use syrups. Were they taste-testing new flavors?
“Try it,” Misao said, pushing the butterscotch one towards her.
Narumi came back in. The sharp scent of tobacco floated around him, and his once crisply-pressed shirt was now rumpled and damp from the outdoors. He pushed a pinboard on wheels in front of him.
“Tsumugi, you just moved to Ame, right?” he said. His hair, previously neatly combed, had become ruffled.
“Um, yes,” Tsumugi said. She attempted not to stare at her coworker’s sudden disarray. “My fiancé got a job—”
“And you worked at a coffee shop in your hometown?” Narumi continued.
Tsumugi nodded. “My aunt owns—”
“Did you ever get ninja costumers?” Narumi asked, face unreadable.
The owner had already asked Tsumugi all these questions in her interview, but assured her they were too far out into a civilian neighborhood to get many ninja. Tsumugi’s eyes drifted to the cork pinboard behind Narumi. It was covered in pages that seemed to be ripped from a book, but perhaps not the same book, as they were all in different stages of yellowing. Two of the pages had big black X’s over them.
“Sometimes we’d get teams of shinobi passing through on missions,” Tsumugi said slowly, repeating the answer she’d given the owner. “Some of them had unique personality quirks, but it’s always an honor to serve a shinobi of Rain Country.”
“Uh-huh,” Narumi said. “Did you tell the owner that? Bet he promised you that you’d barely see any ninja at all out here.”
Misao stuck a paper takeaway cup in Tsumugi’s hand. “Strawberry matcha with sweet cream foam and caramel drizzle.”
Narumi set both hands on the table, leaning forward on them to stare Tsumugi in the face. His eyes had a manic glint to them.
“The truth is,” he said, “there’s a reason none of the Ame ninja come out here.” He stood up straight and slapped the pinboard with enough vigor to make Tsumugi jump. Narumi’s eye twitched. “They call themselves the Akatsuki,” he said, voice hushed and dramatic. “No one knows why they’re here or why Kami-sama and his Angel don’t kick them out. They’re a menace.
“The empty lot on the corner?” Narumi went on, voice getting higher and louder. “Two of them got into an argument and blew up the convenience store. The closed down laundromat across the street? The owner hallucinated winning the lottery and left for a Hot Water Country spa, never to be seen again. The playground you never see children in?” He slammed his hands on the table twice, even louder now. “My niece found a dismembered talking head.”
Narumi’s nostrils flared. Tsumugi found herself recoiling her seat, the strawberry matcha with sweet cream foam and caramel drizzle clutched in her hand.
“Did you enjoy your drink?” Misao asked in a flat tone. “What did you think of the matcha quality?”
“Wha— what?” Tsumugi gasped.
“Are the strawberries a syrup or fresh? What farm? Is it local?” Misao pressed.
Tsumugi stared at the pinboard. In front of it, Narumi took a long drag on an unlit cigarette. Were these photos the dreaded shinobi of Akatsuki? Her eyes fixed on a man’s face in the corner. He was blue with razor sharp teeth.
What have I done? Tsumugi wondered, imagining the teeth ripping out her throat.
The truth was, as much as she’d promised the coffee shop’s owner that she was excited for the opportunity and didn’t mind ninja at all, Tsumugi had been deeply nervous about moving to Ame. It was a much bigger city than her hometown, and ninja had always arrived in her town ushering in new, strange problems. She knew that the leader of Rain was a benevolent god who had freed the country from war and kept them safe from bad ninja, and so she would serve any Ame-nin with a smile. But it was also true that they often dolled out casual violence and did not always care if civilians got in the way. When she and her fiancé Atsuo moved to Ame, Tsumugi had been determined to stick to civilian parts of town and minimize speaking to any ninja at all.
Misao set a new cup down in front of her. “Oolong sweetened with orange blossom honey. Which pastry will go with this?”
“I have spent years studying their behavior,” Narumi said, nostrils flaring. “Memorize their faces and preferences, and maybe you’ll last as long as Misao.”
“What?” Tsumugi said. She glanced at the photo of the man with the terrifying teeth again. Would they really be that bad?
Narumi started gesticulating wildly and explaining he’d come up with the perfect method for dealing with Akatsuki. Tsumugi studied the pinboard some more. A few of them did look scary, but others looked like normal, friendly people. Maybe they were bad customers, but surely they couldn’t be dangerous if Kami-sama allowed them to stay?
Besides, Tsumugi needed this job. Atsuo was still her fiancé and not her husband because he was paid very little and gave very generously to his family, and they’d simply never had the financial stability she wanted in her married life. Here in Ame, he would be too far away from his family to be manipulated by a sad look on a younger sister's face or a sob story from an auntie, and his new position came with higher pay. This coffee shop job also paid much higher than the one Tsumugi had working for her aunt. They could finally start saving up and building a life together.
On top of that, Tsumugi took pride in doing a good job. Her life was simple and she had simple dreams, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t do her best. She was good at being a coffee shop girl, and she liked that about herself.
“Okay,” she said. “Tell me about this Akatsuki.”
They lived somewhere in the neighborhood, Narumi explained, and their presence was why there were so many empty apartments with cheap rent. The Akatsuki usually traveled in pairs, each having an assigned partner. Sometimes they came into the coffee shop alone, but understanding the pairwise dynamic was very important.
“We’ll start with the easiest,” Narumi said. He tapped a finger over a photo of a young man with dark black hair framing his face. “This is Uchiha Itachi. His bingo book says he killed his whole family and that he’s a master of illusions. He has a sweet tooth.”
“O-oh,” Tsumugi said.
“Tsumugi,” Misao said, stepping up to her. “I noticed you didn’t answer any of my questions about our products. Is it perhaps because you are unfamiliar with your own profession?”
“Excuse me?” Tsumugi asked.
“Mostly he’s just really rude,” Narumi said with a sigh.
“Your commentary does not make me confident that you even know what matcha is,” Misao said, tone bored. “Is this really the quality of employee they have here?”
Narumi wiggled a finger in Misao’s direction. “Like that. Our last new hire quit after a week because she couldn’t describe the difference in mouthfeel between almond milk and oat milk, and he made her cry over it.”
Tsumugi stared down at the cups Misao had placed in front of her. Well, she’d dealt with mean customers before. Surely this Uchiha Itachi couldn’t be as bad as her fiancé’s grandmother, who believed no woman was good enough for her grandson and made sure Tsumugi knew it.
“Your best bet is to distract him before he can start asking questions,” Narumi said. “Offer him an off-the-menu specialty drink before he can even order. Make it as complicated sounding as possible, but do not make up lies or attempt to bullshit him. He’ll pick up on it. The sweeter the drink, the more likely he’ll be too happy to berate you. He might even tip.”
“But do we even have these ingredients?” Tsumugi asked, gesturing at the cups in front of her.
“Adaptability is an essential trait for a shinobi village,” Misao said.
“A lot of that stuff we have on-hand for the pastries,” Narumi said. “But don’t offer, say, the butterscotch latte unless you’re confident you can actually find and melt down the butterscotch chips. You said you worked in another coffee shop, right? You should start off on better footing than the previous girl.”
“Ah, I see,” Tsumugi said. This Uchiha Itachi was just a picky customer who could be wowed with gimmick drinks. “So, for example, I could offer him a salted caramel latte, and tell him salting sweets is a specialty of my village.”
Misao narrowed her eyes at her. “What village? What are your specialty sweets? Do you really think that’s unique, or are you not well traveled and deluded by your own ignorance?”
Tsumugi boggled up at Misao. Then she ducked her head, the way she would apologize to her unable grandmother in law to make her stop.
“Forgive me,” Tsumugi said. “I’m from a simple village with simple tastes.”
“Eh, pass,” Narumi said, nodding approvingly. “Usually he just gets bored and ignores people who know they’re pathetic, although he won’t tip you.”
Know they’re pathetic…? Tsumugi thought. Wasn’t that a bit rude?
Narumi continued, ”Next time offer a second flavor to go with the caramel. For example, we have some candied pralines in the back. You’ll learn.”
Narumi cleared his throat and next tapped on a photo of a man with a face mask. “Next most difficult is Kakuzu. He’s a bounty hunter and has been active for a very long time. Since I’ve started working here, he’s had three different Akatsuki partners, and the rumor on the street is that he killed the first two.”
Narumi gestured at the photos with X’s over them. Tsumugi’s eyes widened. Shinobi were so violent, even against their own family and coworkers! Was Kami-sama really okay with them being here?
Misao set a piece of cardstock on the table. “This punchcard entitles me to a free drink.”
“We have rewards cards?” Tsumugi asked. They hadn’t mentioned that at all.
“We did briefly, two years ago,” Narumi said.
“If it’s two years out of date, then I can’t accept—” Tsumugi started.
“There is no expiration date printed,” Misao practically growled. “Are you not going to honor your word?”
“Alright…?” Tsumugi said, uncertain.
Narumi shook his head. “You can’t just back out of this one, Tsumugi. He wants a fight. Don’t give up that easily.”
“Um,” Tsumugi said. She fidgeted. She didn’t like confrontation. “Then I’ll have to… speak to my manager…?”
“Pass for the Kakuzu interaction,” Narumi decided, although he sounded unimpressed. “He wants ordering a coffee to feel like haggling at the market, and then at the end to feel like he’s won a battle. Escalating to me will work fine if he comes in alone. What you have to watch out for is—”
Misao’s entire body language changed. She loomed over Tsumugi and smirked lazily down at her.
“Aw, you scared her,” she cooed.
“Um,” Tsumugi said.
“Hidan,” Narumi said, pointing fiercely at the pinboard. Hidan was a handsome man with silver-white hair, grinning cockily in his photo. “He’s the newest member and has the least information in any bingo book. His favorite activity seems to be agitating people to see what they do.”
“Don’t worry about Kakuzu,” Misao said, silky smooth. “Hey, what do you know about God?”
“Kami-sama?” Tsumugi said. That seemed like safe conversation, even if her little 155cm coworker was making her very nervous right now. “He’s the savior of Rain Country—”
“Bzzt,” Narumi said, imitating a buzzer. “Wrong. Never talk to Hidan about God.”
“Why not?” Tsumugi asked. Kami-sama was a really popular topic of conversation in Ame.
“Hidan follows a different god called Jashin,” Narumi said. “No one knows much about it, because anyone that’s talked to him about Jashin for too long has just… disappeared.”
“What do you mean?” Tsumugi said, alarmed.
“A scared little mouse,” Misao said, reaching forward to push a strand of Tsumugi’s hair behind her ear. “Kakuzu, you’re such a bully.”
“Oh man, don’t let him touch you,” Narumi said.
“B–but,” Tsumugi spluttered. She waved Misao’s hand away and she reached for her face again.
“The best thing to do is not look like an easy target,” Narumi said. “No stuttering. Speak confidently and don’t let anyone side track you from talking about anything but work. Make yourself seem as tall and wide as possible.”
Isn’t that what you do for bears?! Tsumugi thought, mind reeling.
“I bet Jashin would love you, little mouse,” Misao said. “Not happy with your job, are you? You got a boyfriend? Bet he makes you suffer too.”
Right, Tsumugi thought, remembering Atsuo. She was here to make a better life, get married, and have a family. Ame had good salaries, good schools, and was the safest place in her country. She was going to live a good, ordinary life, no matter what. I can do this.
She straightened her back. She took a deep breath.
“Kakuzu-san,” she said, firmly addressing the space behind Misao. “We no longer accept these rewards cards, and I think you know that because otherwise you would have cashed it in sooner. However, I see you have been a loyal customer for a long time. Why don’t I give you 20% off?”
Misao shifted back to her Kakuzu persona, crossing her arms. “Fifty percent,” she grunted.
Tsumugi gritted her teeth. “Only if you also buy a food item. Our breakfast sandwiches are all wonderful.”
Misao narrowed her eyes. “Fine. But we’re applying it to Hidan’s order too.”
Tsumugi smiled stiffly. “I’m sure he’ll also become a loyal customer.”
Narumi applauded, clapping slowly. Tsumugi felt herself fill with pride.
“Very good,” he said. “Let’s hope you can keep your cool when it’s a two meter tall man instead of Misao.”
Tsumugi deflated slightly. It was true, that this frightening man in the photo would probably be more intimidating than Misao, with her dimples and her stylish little bob.
Tsumugi’s eyes fixed again on the blue man. There were only three faces left, and they were going in ascending order of the most difficult customers. How bad could he be?!
“Next up is Deidara,” Narumi said pointing at a photo of an older teen with long blonde hair. “His bingo book says he’s a demolitions expert, but he will tell you he’s an artist.”
“That sounds… pleasant?” Tsumugi hedged. Still with some baby fat on his cheeks, Deidara definitely looked like the least intimidating person on the board.
“Don’t be fooled,” Narumi said, face dire. “Deidara will walk in and seem normal. He will order a medium latte and a ham and cheese croissant every time, and he won’t give you a hard time about it.”
“So he has a regular order,” Tsumugi said. “Predictable customers are usually easy.”
Narumi held up a hand. “No,” he said. “The order is predictable. Whatever else happens when Deidara is around… isn’t.”
Narumi explained further. Apparently, Deidara was an unstable lunatic. He’d once gotten into a screaming argument with an elderly woman because she’d implied he maybe didn’t know what he was talking about. He’d thrown fists with random other customers more than once. He’d set fire to the bathroom trash twice.
“And the worst part,” Narumi said, voice absolutely dire, “is his partner.”
Tsumugi’s mind immediately conjured the evil smile of the blue man, but instead Narumi tapped the photo of a much less scary, albeit still fairly weird-looking older man with spiky hair.
“This is Sasori,” Narumi said. “He’s a master of battle puppetry who once took out an entire country. He has never ordered anything here and won’t come in by himself, but he usually appears if it takes more than ninety seconds for Deidara to collect his order. He will escalate anything already happening.”
“You’re late,” Misao hissed. “What’s taking so long? And why is this logo so ugly?”
“I think it’s cute,” Tsumugi defended.
“It’s hideous,” Misao spat. “You should be feel embarrassed to be seen with it, much the way my partner should feel embarrassed to take so long—”
Misao’s posture suddenly changed, tightening up like a tiny, enraged dog.
“The logo is fine, yeah!” she yelled. “It’s just that you have no taste, Danna.”
“This is about where they’ll start a fight,” Narumi said, sticking his unlit cigarette between his lips again. “If that happens, all you can do is take cover.”
“How do you keep it from happening?” Tsumugi asked, feeling a new wave of anxiety. She’d never seen a real ninja brawl in person, but she’d heard awful things about them. Bystanders sometimes died during those.
“Get Deidara his order as fast as possible,” Narumi said. “Start it before he even walks in if you can. And whatever you do, do not bring up art. Do not say anything if asked about art. That’s a trap.”
“Art and God,” Tsumugi said. “Got it.”
“And keep your ugly hair cut,” Misao said, finally lapsing back into her natural speaking pattern. “I’m pretty sure Sasori scalped my cousin for her hair.”
“Um,” Tsumugi said.
“That’s good advice,” Narumi said. “Now get up and show me how fast you can prepare a medium latte and a ham and cheese croissant. Then your training will be complete.”
“Wait,” Tsumugi said, standing. If the risk with Deidara and Sasori was the building being set on fire while you got scalped, then what horrors would the shark man bring? “What about… him?”
She pointed at the blue man’s photo. Imagines of bloody, pointy teeth danced in Tsumugi’s mind. What could be worse than the worse?
Narumi’s eyes slowly followed her finger. He removed the cigarette from his lips. He laughed.
“Oh, Kisame? I forgot,” he said. “He’s Itachi’s partner. Don’t worry about him. He’s super relaxed. Just don’t get upset if he makes a joke about cutting off your legs.”
Huh? Tsumugi thought.