#(His Specialty is Coffee and Curry) : Sojiro

[epitomees]

~ Kasumi/Sumi’s Tags ~ 

More will be added as needed. 

[taintedkibou]

It's been a while since I used the "my fiction" tag. You can read it on Ao3, or you can click Keep Reading… and read it here~

Kurusu Akira adjusted the high collar of the Shujin winter sweater, straightening out any creases. It was a temporary fix, unless he planned to keep his neck as stiff as a pole, but he had to uphold the appearance of a well-behaved student.  Satisfied, Akira grabbed his school bag and headed downstairs, where breakfast awaited him. His guardian greeted him with a gruff "mornin'", sliding a plate of curry across the counter.

Akira slid into the seat in front of the plate, offered his thanks for the meal, and began eating. "Where's Morgana?" he asked after swallowing a mouthful. The seat designated to the family cat was empty.

Sojiro glanced towards the end of the counter as he lit a cigarette. "Out hunting, I suppose. Maybe he made it to Ginza."

Akira grinned. Morgana did love his sushi. He finished his meal, bid Sakura Sojiro goodbye, and walked out of the cafe. "Flip the sign!" was shouted at his back. Akira did as he was told; as he had been doing for almost three years now. He sometimes wondered why Sojiro still voiced the request, but it was probably just as routine as the act itself. Hoisting his school case high, he began the trip to Shujin.

— 

Akira hurriedly disembarked the crowded train and headed up the stairs to the Underground Walkway. From there, it was to the Square, where he was to make another transfer. This was where his adventures sometimes became something more than a droll routine.

"A-ki-ra!"

Today was one of those days. Akira braced himself for the incoming impact, not expecting to be tackled. A strong arm wound around his midsection, holding him upright, as the culprit laughed heartily in his ear. "Yo!" The newcomer's grin was almost as blinding as his hair. Sakamoto Ryuji released his victim, looping his arm around Akira's shoulder instead. "How's my best friend doin'?"

"I might be suffering from a dislocated spine? You know you're an Alpha, right?"

Ryuji sneered. "That's just a label. What I know is... you're weak. Even after a year of training." He angled his body closer to Akira's, sneaking through the gate with him while the station attendant was distracted with another passenger.

Akira hid his smirk, shaking his head. "It's a free pass."

"Saving that tap for a special day," Ryuji told him.

The usual assertiveness was gone from his voice and Akira chanced a glance to see that the blond looked hopeful. This so-called “special day” was obviously important to him. "I hope you get to tap that pass."

Ryuji's wide eyes were visible only for a second, before he doubled over in uncontrollable, roaring laughter. Akira looked sheepish as he held the blond's shoulders to help him keep his balance. Luckily, Ryuji's fit passed right in time for the transit's arrival. Akira guided them into the crowded car, keeping his arm around the blond's waist. His free hand rose to take hold of the overhead rung.

The last of Ryuji's giggles wore off and the blond settled comfortably against his friend. He began talking about an upcoming meet, and that they needed to train together again in preparation. Akira thanked the heavens he had no reaction to Ryuji's scent, but that did nothing to stop the normal reaction of being so close to his "crush". A juvenile word, but "love interest" made him sound like he lived in a romance novel.

When they arrived at Shujin, they unfortunately had to parts ways. Different homerooms meant they couldn't drive the faculty insane. Akira entered his classroom, eyes immediately seeking out Mishima Yuuki. He'd inadvertently rescued the petite Omega from a fate worse than death. Every day, he made sure a smile greeted him. Mishima lifted his head, looking away from his phone long enough to grin at Akira.

Takamaki Ann, a mated Beta, watched him with calculating eyes as he made his way to their row. She turned in her chair after he claimed the desk behind her, propping her head up with a cheeky smile. "You plan on telling him yet? I can tell by your dopey grin that you saw him this morning. That, and the rumor mill works faster than you two walk."

Akira rolled his eyes as he sank into his chair. For a school that tried to uphold its supposed reputation, Shujin was a decomposing mess on the inside. After an act that brought the police and media to the school's front door, Akira was labeled as a pariah. Several students still engaged in conversation with him, but most shunned or ignored him. He would have been barred from the school library if the Student Council President hadn’t stepped in.

Akira shook the memories away, not wanting to lose himself in the past. Ann looked expectantly at him, a slim eyebrow arched questioningly. "No," the brunet sighed. "I…" Akira had no idea how to finish that statement. Anything that came out of his mouth would be a lie. His entire existence was a lie.

Ann pressed on, "Look at me and Makoto. I never thought it would be possible. Never thought I'd end up with someone I used to see as the enemy. You and Ryuji are inseparable, so no one will blink twice."

The door opened and Kawakami walked in, signaling classes would be beginning soon.

"Just drop it," Akira mumbled, reaching into his school case to retrieve his notes. Ann sighed, but obeyed, turning back around so she faced the front of the classroom. 

xxx

With no after school activities, Akira decided to head home for the afternoon after bidding his friends "later". Ryuji was already practicing with the track club, so there was no need to bother him. Sojiro gave him an acknowledging nod when he entered the cafe, returning his attention to the task of brewing coffee.

Akira eased himself between the bar seats and leaned against the counter. "Can I help today?" he inquired in a hushed voice.

Before the shop's owner could reply, Leblanc's patrons answered for him. "You should,” a business woman stated from the booth behind the teen. “Boss's curry is the best, but I enjoy Akira-kun's as well."

"Especially when he gets crazy with the spices," another laughed. Even Morgana added his opinion with a long meow. The handful of regular customers knew of the white-booted, black cat. He was a well-trained boy, so no one worried or mulled over his presence in Leblanc. There was even a special chair just for him.

Akira's grin stretched across his face; the gleam in his eyes meant he knew he had already won. Sojiro exhaled deeply, "Fine. Hurry and change." Akira wiggled free of the chairs, stopping to acknowledge each of their customers with a polite bow, before dashing upstairs.

Since Sojiro currently brewed the coffee, he gave Akira the job of making a fresh pot of curry. The teen decided not to go crazy with his experimentation, but he still added ingredients that he knew a few customers would enjoy.

When the last guest left for the evening, Akira shared himself a plate of curry and took it to the counter. A cup of coffee was waiting for him and he could tell it was a Blue Mountain blend with the slightest inhale. Akira gave thanks for his meal and helped himself. If he told him out loud, Sojiro would deny it and brush him off, but ever since coming here, his life made a 180 turn, and he felt more at home above Leblanc than he had living in his parents' house. Speaking of, it was going on almost two months without contact.

Sojiro turned off the faucet. He picked up the nearby towel and dried his hands. "What're you thinking about?" he asked.

"My past," Akira replied after taking a sip of the hot liquid. He enjoyed the way the heat worked its way through his body, warming him as it traveled. He smiled, languid. "And how it has nothing on my present."

"Sentimental brat," the cafe owner scoffed. The faint hint of a smile gave him away. "Hurry up and go to the bathhouse." Akira complied, clearing his plate of food and chasing it with warm coffee. He was still letting his tongue cool as he dashed downstairs, out the cafe, and across the street.

Akira enjoyed soaking in the baths as much as the next person. The old man that loved searing hot water was absent, so Akira set the temperature to something agreeable and sank into the water until just his shoulders were covered. As comforting situations liked to do, the memories he brushed while enjoying dinner rose to the surface. Sojiro claimed his parents still loved him—"They're very busy." Busy, yes. They were also probably very relieved to get rid of him so they didn’t have to look after something that would always attract attention. To them, he was just another burden. 

Akira dunked himself beneath the water, focusing all his thoughts on not drowning. When he resurfaced, he stood from the hot water and made his way out of the bath, soak completed.

  Sojiro removed his apron once the boy walked through the door, folding and storing it. He gave Akira a heavy pat on the shoulder; a wordless, cautious warning.

When his guardian walked through the door and flipped the sign to "close", Akira locked every lock. Morgana was missing, which meant he would somehow find his way to the Sakura household. Akira rather enjoyed the cat's company, even when he woke and found himself being smothered by said cat. He made his way up to his room, made sure his window was shut and secured, and took a seat at the edge of his bed.

Akira reached behind his neck, nails catching on the invisible edge of plastic. He pinched it between his fingers and pulled. The transparent square was crushed, crumpled, and disposed of. Akira wiped down the back of his neck with an alcohol pad and tossed that as well. He pushed aside the covers to lie down, pulling them back to cover himself from head to toe. 

Akira woke to his phone blaring the opening song of Phoenix Ranger Featherman R; a Sakura Futaba specialty warning. Ryuji was coming. He stumbled out of bed and to the desk where he kept his scent blockers. Akira hurriedly opened a packet and pressed it down on the back of his neck, afraid to remove his hand.

Ryuji darkened the door of Leblanc, grinning once the owner acknowledged his presence. He was beckoned in, only to stop after he opened the door. It wasn't Sojiro's murderous glare that froze him in place, but rather the sudden recollection that there was something he needed to do. Ryuji excused himself, closing the door after he stepped out. He was gone only a few minutes before he returned with drinks from the vending machine near the bathhouse.

"Kids these days have no respect,” Sojiro grumbled. He faced the stairs to shout in their direction. "Akira! Hurry up! You have an escort."

Ryuji took a seat at the bar, his school bag in the chair to the right of him, and popped the tab on one of his soda cans. Morgana lifted his head with an inquisitive mewl and Ryuji's drink went forgotten. "Mona!" He jumped down, heading for the cat's personal perch, and scooped the black feline into his arms. Morgana pushed at the blond head with one white paw, leaning away in the opposite direction. "Mona! I thought you loved me...!" Ryuji whined as he tried to press his face against Morgana's.

"You'll need another bath, and maybe some bandages for your scratches." Akira walked down the stairs at that moment, distracting Ryuji enough that Morgana could escape. The black cat bolted past Akira, disappearing upstairs.

Ryuji combed his fingers through his hair, grinning at his friend. "Yo! I woke up early so I decided to come get you."

Akira rolled his eyes. "How considerate. I'm sure you plan to sneak through the gates with me as well."

"Gotta save that tap," Ryuji laughed, reclaiming his previous seat at the counter. Akira sat beside him, a small smile on his face as he remembered yesterday. He buried the slight hope that that "tap" was for him, and enjoyed the plate of curry set before him. 

xxx Akira never thought his whole worldview would be shattered with just one simple sentence.

"I finally saw Sakamoto's mate!"

Akira stalled in packing his school case, lifting his head slowly to not draw attention to himself. Ann caught his eye, but they both remained subtle in their eavesdropping.

"So what? Some plain chick, I'm sure. This is Sakamoto we're talking about."

"No! It's a guy... A gorgeous guy. But..."

Akira gripped the handle of his bag tightly, wishing the idiot would spill the beans rather than keep up dramatic pretenses.

"He's an alpha," was finally whispered.

The entire classroom fell deathly silent. Not much of a whisper. Sakamoto Ryuji, an Alpha. Was mated to another Alpha.

Akira sank into his chair, fingers tangled in his hair as he tried to process the information. Alphas didn't mate with other Alphas. It was taboo. The rumors were only going to get worse. Jumping up, he grabbed his school case and made a hasty exit, unapologetic of anyone in his way. Where was he headed? What drove him? Jealousy? Envy. Someone—another Alpha had taken the one thing he wanted most in this half-baked world.

Akira reached up to the back of his neck, scratching at the patch he wore. How could anyone like him if he didn't like himself first? 

xxx

Sojiro took pity on him and let him assist in the cafe. Akira brewed coffee until evening rolled in and the last customer walked out.

Feeling weighed down by an invisible pressure, Akira scraped the scent blocking patch from his neck and stuffed it into his pocket to dispose of in his room. Sojiro was never one for comforting words, but he knew how to show his approval. He gave the boy praise for a job well done with a gentle pat to the head. The heavy hand was comforting, and Akira allowed himself a soft rumble of a purr.

"I know you just took it off, but those blockers will be useless if you act like this in public," the man sighed, drawing his hand back to cross both arms over his chest.

"...sorry," Akira whispered, ducking his head.

Sojiro stared at the thin teen, practically folded in on himself now, and breathed heavily through his nose. "No need to apologize for something you have no control over. Just... be careful."

"Yes," Akira responded, his voice even softer than before. "Except... I plan to stop using the patches."

Sojiro arched an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Yeah." Akira drew himself upright, smiling at the cafe owner. "What happened in the past... I won't let it happen again. Thanks to you and Futaba... hopefully, it won't."

Sojiro gave him a lopsided smile before uncrossing his arms and pointing at the small cup of coffee. "Finish that and then clean up. Make sure you lock up behind me." 

Once Sojiro donned his hat and left, Akira did as he was told, locking up behind his guardian first. He emptied his cup of the remaining coffee, and got to work on clearing the sink of its few dishes. Once everything looked spic and span, Akira slowly climbed the steps to his room. His earlier declaration came back to haunt him and he lifted a hand to his neck, fingers brushing over the naked skin. Was he doing the right thing? Only time would tell.

Sojiro's attention shifted from the morning news to the boy walking down the attic stairs. Akira walked with confidence, but exuded nothing but nervousness. "You don't have to—"

"I do," the brunet cut in. "I can't hide all my life, and Japan has yet to invent a procedure to remove secondary genders."

Sojiro chuckled softly. "That's true." His smile vanished just as quickly, replaced with a stern frown. "If anyone tries anything—"

"Lock myself away and call you immediately." Futaba was the one in charge of tracking his heats, and had yet to inform him of one. With a shaky smile, Akira gripped the handles of his school case tighter and walked past the counter to the door. "Flip the sign," he recited before he could be told. With that minor task complete, it was time to start the real adventure.

—

The last person he wanted to see met him at Aoyama. Akira had to deal with two train molesters and a very bold salaryman that propositioned him outside the Teikyu building. How Ryuji managed to find him in a sea of students wearing identical uniforms was beyond his comprehension. An arm was slung around his neck, only to slowly fall away. Akira peeked out from beneath his fringe and was met with a wide-eyed blond. "Surpri—"

"What the hell, dude?" Ryuji failed at keeping his voice below a whisper, but it wasn’t loud enough to draw attention. Not yet. He wrapped his arm back around the brunet's neck and kept him pressed close against his side as they began moving. "Why aren't you wearing your blockers?"

Now it was Akira's turn to be dumbfounded as he stumbled along. "You—"

"Of course I knew, dumbass. I figured if you wanted to hide your gender, that's your business, not mine." With their close proximity, Ryuji felt the shudder ripple through Akira's body. Craning his neck, he realized the other teen was crying. There was no sound, but the tears flowed steadily, and he smelled of distress. "Shit. Akira! Stop... stop crying. People will think I'm abusing you. Think happy thoughts!"

"I am happy," Akira sniffled, using his free hand to wipe at his eyes. "I thought you would treat me differently... if you knew."

Ryuji stopped walking, forcing Akira to do the same. He had to resist the urge to resort to a physical reprimand—station attendants were already watching them suspiciously—and settled for a disappointed glare. "That actually hurts, y'know. I'm not a dumb Alpha. I respect Omegas. And you're my friend, idiot." Apparently, that was the “wrong” thing to say, since more tears began falling. Ryuji made a quick decision to drag Akira from the station. From there, it was the alley where they'd first met.

Ryuji groaned loudly, pacing back and forth. Akira sat on an upturned crate, wiping stray tears from his eyes. "My scent's all over you...! They'll know it's me! The school will use you as an excuse to finally expel me!" He tangled his fingers in his short locks, forcing himself not to scream at the sky.

"I've stopped crying," Akira mumbled, dropping his hands into his lap. His eyes were red rimmed and swollen, making his smile useless. "And I like your scent. It's a sad attempt at a pickup line when someone says you smell delicious, but you... you smell delicious. You remind me... of ramen."

Ryuji's pacing stopped immediately, but he never turned around.

"I have no idea why I never noticed it before. Maybe..." Akira idly rubbed at the back of his neck, void now of the patch that passed him off as a Beta. He smiled, a small curl of his lips. ‘I am an Omega.’ 

— 

After walking through the front gates of Shujin Academy, it became clear to Akira that Ryuji was the only one that knew his true second gender. The stares were endless as he moved through the school halls, and the remarks scathing. Akira chose not to acknowledge any of it and entered his classroom via the back door. Mishima's head snapped up, along with every other student present.

Ann was out of her seat and at his side instantly. “I had no idea,” she babbled once at the brunet’s side. “You hid it so well. You were more of a Beta than me! Did anybody do anything to you on the way here? There’s a faint hint of Ryuji. Did he walk you here?” Her eyes narrowed dangerously, ice-blue eyes promising physical violence. “Did he try something?”

“No,” Akira laughed, wiping a few stray tears from his eyes. He never expected to receive such positive responses from his friends. He should have known better. “He walked me here from the train station.”

“I can pick you up from now on, if you’d like,” Ann offered. They stood beside their respective desks now. “Mako-chan tries to walk with Mishima when she can.”

Akira didn’t know that. He smiled gratefully. “I’ll think about it. You’ll probably have to fight Ryuji for the job.”

“I won’t hesitate.” Ann made a muscle to prove just how serious she was.

Akira laughed again. He added Ann’s defiant voice to Sojiro's calm voice and Ryuji's loud one, and slipped into his seat with a relaxed smile. Futaba was literally at his side via his cell phone, watching out for him. They were his own personal protection squad; Akira was safe.

— 

Ryuji's taboo relationship was pushed to the side by Akira's sudden gender reveal. That is, until the school day ended. Ryuji appeared in the doorway of 2-B, his fierce gaze moving from one Omega to the other. Ann saw him first, and whispered to Akira, who turned towards the open door. Ryuji found himself relaxing beneath the gray-eyed gaze, and freed a hand from his pocket to beckon the brunet over. 

The minute Akira walked out of the classroom to join Ryuji, new rumors began to fly. Akira let the whispered accusations of chasing a mated Alpha bounce off him. Ryuji was his friend, first and foremost. There was no way he would come between him and his mate. 

xxx

Ryuji decided Big Bang was a good location. They were less likely to draw attention, even as an unmated Alpha and Omega pair. Akira nibbled on his fries after pushing the wrapped burger to the side. "When did you find out?"

Ryuji finished a bite of his burger with a thoughtful look. "The first time you invited me up to your room."

Akira huffed, a scornful smile playing at his lips. "Sojiro warned me not to, but... I was just so happy to have a friend."

"Same, dude." Ryuji set down his burger, folding his arms atop the table. "Your room smelled like an Omega. I thought, holy shit, Akira found a mate. But then I realized the scent was only in your room. Day before yesterday, when I came and picked you up, Boss looked ready to string me up by my happy bits." Ryuji grinned at Akira’s shocked stare, scratching the bridge of his nose. "Yeah. Somehow, your scent had drifted down into the shop. Since Leblanc wasn't open, I knew it had to be you, confirming everything I'd ever thought. Did you know Alphas have a way to block Omega scents?"

Akira shook his head, fascinated by the turn of subject.

"Perfume," Ryuji stated with all the confidence he could muster. Akira covered his mouth, but the laughter still spilled out between his fingers. Success. Akira looked so down; Ryuji only wanted to cheer him up. Keeping him happy would always be top priority. "Don't ask where I got it from, though. I left, headed to the laundromat, and rubbed some right here..." Ryuji indicated to his upper lip, right above the Cupid's Bow. "And it helped. I bought the drinks as an excuse."

Gone was Akira's smile, replaced with something akin to fear and horror. "Do I... offend?"

Eyes wide, Ryuji shook his head. "No way, man! I was just respecting your privacy."

Akira tried to hold the tears in, but they refused to listen. He wondered if this was his true nature as an Omega—overemotional and sensitive to everything. Or maybe this was a personal problem. The one person he would have loved to create a future with—an understanding, kind, and fiery soul, was out of reach, but always nearby, fretting over him. They always said life wasn't fair. 

"I came prepared!"

Akira lowered his hands, choking out a wet laugh at the sight of almost a dozen tissue packets spread between their trays. Unlike during his previous breakdown, Ryuji remained calm, smiling as Akira opened a packet and began wiping at his face. "I'm sorry," the brunet mumbled, sniffling softly.

"I'm not giving you orders, but you shouldn't apologize so much." Ryuji picked up his burger, taking a big bite. "You never did it before. You shouldn't let your second gender control you. I mean... do I act like an Alpha?"

"No," Akira told him with a soft sniffle, wiping at his nose. He set the used and crumpled tissue aside to pick up a fry."You're just... Ryuji." He popped the food into his mouth. 

"Exactly! So you should go back to being Akira. The smart mouthed li'l punk that don't take shit from no one. 'cept..." Ryuji was blushing, a rare sight to Akira's eyes. "Tell me to get lost when... y'know... that time... rolls around."

That time? Akira looked confused for a moment. Ryuji's blush deepened and it hit him swiftly. "Oh." Akira blushed as bright as the blond. "I haven't had one since my first."

Ryuji raised an eyebrow, his embarrassment fading. "Weird. Should you see a doctor?"

Akira's heart swelled. 'Stop being so nice.' "No. Suppressants."

Ryuji still looked uncertain, but he dropped the subject. "If you're feeling better, you should eat." He nodded at the wayward burger when Akira met his eye. "You'll grow big and strong."

"Maybe just big," the brunet muttered, unwrapping the sandwich. Ryuji grinned.

xxx

Ryuji walked Akira right to the front door of Leblanc, despite the continuous stream of protest. He pushed him through the door, waved at a surprised Sojiro, and took his leave. Akira smiled apologetically at the young doctor from the nearby clinic. Takemi Tae nodded her head at him in return, expression unchanging from its monotonous state.

"Welcome back," Sojiro rumbled. "Glad to see today was successful."

Akira's grin dimmed to a lesser watt smile. "It didn't start out too great, but... it ended well enough. I know how to handle things now."

"You can send anyone that harasses you to me," the young doctor suggested in a low, humming drawl. "After you put them in their place for thinking they can walk all over Omegas." Takemi herself was an Omega. Once a successful doctor, she was stripped of her renown and disowned from the hospital she'd worked at for years. An Alpha came into the picture and turned her life onto its head by pinning his medical mistake on her. She was successful in Yongen-jaya now, and off the radar. Akira visited the clinic ever so often and ended up a guinea pig to the young woman's medical trials. Makes him wonder now if she always knew his second gender.

Takemi smirked, as though reading his thoughts, and went back to staring down at her coffee.

Akira asked for a soda, making sure to grab a coaster as he passed the stack, and headed up to his room with the drink. He had snacks in his bag, courtesy of Ryuji, that would be enjoyed as he worked on his homework.

    [chapter two] [chapter three] [chapter four]

[c-is-for-circinate]

No particular spoilers past the general layout of the second dungeon!  It’s time for

Way #2/? that Persona 5 is not going to end (or even go in the middle)

.

You survive the end of the year.  In fact, you survive all the way to March.

You go home.

Morgana comes with you.  It takes some quick thinking and smooth talking with your parents, bringing home what they assume is a no-account adopted street cat, probably still half feral, might have fleas, but quick thinking and smooth talking are some of your specialties these days.  You don’t mention that Morgana is a fabulously renowned street cat who’s both more cultured than you and entirely feral, in the right situation.  You don’t say that the cat’s saved your life.

You don’t really say much of anything at all.  Last time you lived...here, halfway to nowhere, in this quiet suburb of no particular distinction, you never talked much because you didn’t have much to say and you weren’t really sure how to say it, anyway.  Now it’s a habit: words are tools, and a phantom thief chooses and uses their tools with care and precision.  It’s useful to be silent and overlooked sometimes.  You’re used to it.  It’s how you’re supposed to be.

The buzz about the Phantom Thieves of Hearts has almost died down around Tokyo by the time you leave.  They’ve disappeared off into the dusk as mysteriously as they appeared, as befits the best thieves, and people will murmur about them in song and story for decades but Tokyo moves fast and they’re not the first thing on anybody’s mind any more.  Out in the suburbs, it seems like the story made headline news and then passed like anything major from the capitol does, something dramatic happening far away and best left to those who were there.  Nobody particularly looks at you at all.

“So, this is what retirement looks like,” Morgana says in satisfaction, sniffing around the corners of your old bedroom.  It’s nothing like the attic above LeBlanc.  There’s a rug on the floor and paint on the walls, and the dust on the desk is thin.  “It’s smaller than the old place.”

“I’m only seventeen,” you point out.  This is retirement.  The gentleman thief makes his last narrow escape and slips off triumphant to live a quiet life in the countryside, wealthy and content with the end of his adventure.

Your parents don’t know about the seven million yen you brought home from Tokyo, hidden in the bottom of your backpack under the cat.  You’re not really sure what you’ll do with it, but you have it.  For a rainy day.

.

You don’t talk to the others much.  It’s one of Morgana’s rules for the walkaway--and Morgana’s a cat, has always been a cat, never more than dreamed of being a human, but he’s watched more shows and read more crime stories than you’ve ever seen, and you bow to his experience on this once again.  Anyway, there isn’t much to say to them.  They’re working out their own lives again too.

Between the explosion at the station, the total server meltdown at the public prosecutor’s office, and that second-to-last stolen heart...you don’t have a criminal record any more.  Any criminal record.  The assault charge was wiped after he  confessed everything, and with a year of exemplary student behavior under your belt, your probation officer was happy to send you back to your parents with his compliments.  Nobody would even dream of associating you with the mysterious suspect in the Phantom Thief incident taken into custody last December.

You show up at your old high school on the first day of third year ten minutes before the start of class, comfortably on time.  It’s close enough to walk there if you set out early enough.  There are no castles.  Your new phone stays silent.  You have to work to find the whispers in the halls-- “he’s new?  I thought I recognized him.  Oh, he just took a year in Tokyo--lucky!  I wish I could take a year somewhere as exciting as Tokyo.  So did you hear about the new math teacher?”.  Nobody seems to think you might murder them with a knife if they accidentally make eye contact, at least.  That’s probably an improvement.

(You know how.  You’ve killed enough shadows.  You’ve helped kill two people.)

It’s impossible not to glance around for a flash of light cutting through the thief-sight gray and pick out targets.  The girl over there has something to say.   Those two underclassmen are loud gossips, easy to eavesdrop on for context on anything that has the student body’s attention.  There’s nothing you need from any of them, except the way you see their shoulders drop and their knees quiver when you turn that quiet, disarming smile on them in the halls.  You’re one of the most charming people you know.  You’re an expert at the grift.  You take everybody by surprise.

“You don’t need to come to school with me,” you tell Morgana.  Getting caught with a cat in your bookbag at Shujin would have been difficult to deal with, but nowhere near the hardest of your problems.  Here...you don’t have any worse problems.  That’s probably good.  “I’m sure you have cat-things you’d like to do.”

“What, cooped up in your room all day?” Morgana snorts, and licks himself.  A cat given the power to think and talk by the ultimate distortion of human cognition is still just a cat, after all.  “It’s boring in here.”

“I’ll leave the window open,” you promise.

It’s the second floor.  There’s a maple tree outside, and the brick of the house is rough, full of footholds.  You could jump the distance to the ground as lightly as Morgana can.  You could climb it with a flutter of your long jacket billowing behind you like a cape.  Easy.  No challenge at all.

.

Your parents are sorry.  Your parents are glad you’re home.  Your parents are glad that you’re back on the right track, they knew they raised an honest, commendable son, who will surely get into a respectable college and live an honest, commendable life, all this teen indiscretion aside.

Your mother’s cooking is bland.  You make Sojiro’s curry one night, and smuggle a plate upstairs for Morgana afterwards.  It doesn’t taste quite the same.  The spices are old.  Everything in this house is bland.

You go to the library.  They have two Arsène Lupin books, and you slip them into your backpack without thinking about it, without taking them to the checkout desk.  The Arsène in the back of your own head disapproves--theft is theft, but stealing old dog-eared hardcovers from a library?  How pitiful.  You could do so much better.

You read them in the evenings, after homework that’s too easy to do and too hard to concentrate on, at your desk instead of in a comfortable booth with a cup of well-brewed coffee to focus your brain.  You buy the rest of the series online.  You have seven million yen in small bills stashed in tiny packets around your room and in the bottom of your backpack.  You might as well do something with it.

You read every single one of the stories, first in Japanese, then in the original French just for practice.  Your English is good enough to keep up with Ann in casual conversation these days, if you ever spoke to Ann any more--might as well pick up a new language to add to it.  It might be handy someday, especially if you leave Japan.

If you leave Japan?  You’re a quiet boy with a quiet life.  You’re going to end up growing up to own a flower shop, a cafe of your own, a small, dusty bookstore and sell mysteries and crime novels to people who wish their own lives were half as exciting as yours was, that once.  You’re just a boy.

.

You should be studying for entrance exams.  Instead, you join the school track team.

You never got quite as fast as Ryuji was at his prime, but learning to sprint for your life to escape a collapsing Palace added a certain something to your training.  Your teammates should try doing it sometime with a cat on their head.

You’re good at the hurdles, even better than you are at a straight dash.  Coach says your form is a mess, but you get more air and more speed than any of the other guys on the team, and you never hit a top rung.  You’ve leapt higher laser beams with higher stakes.

If you do well enough on your entrance exams, you could probably go to college somewhere in Tokyo, if you could ever go back to Tokyo.

Maybe somewhere else.  France, maybe.  America.  Anywhere but here.  You remade yourself once, you can do it again.

.

“Don’t you have that test tomorrow?” Morgana asks.  “You should go to sleep now.”

“No,” you say, for maybe the first time ever.  You shut your book with a thud.  “No.”

The crickets are chorusing outside the window, and somewhere, distantly, there are cars on a main road.  The moon is only just a sliver.  The world outside is a thousand shadows, and you can barely see through it at all with your normal eyes, but you don’t just have normal eyes.  You don’t have normal anything.  You’re not who you used to be.

Morgana can stay here and sleep if he wants to.  He’s a cat; it’s his prerogative.  You slide your window the rest of the way up, silent on greased tracks.  The closest branch of the maple tree thick enough to support your weight is two meters out and half a meter higher than the top of your window frame.

You’ve still got nearly seven million yen to your name.  Maybe you’ll buy a long, billowing black coat.  Track practice is one thing, but if you’re going to go running parkour over the roofs of apartment buildings and shuttered stores in what passes for a downtown around here, you should do it in style.

Down the hall, your parents are asleep.  Outside, the city sleeps.

You grab the top of your window frame, swing yourself out over the sill, and jump.