Chapter Text
Shibuya was a maze of obelisks and faces, and Ren could only half-believe he was really here at all. When he was younger, he had tried many times to get to Tokyo: by foot, by hiding in the trunk of his father’s car, by sneaking onto trains before the sun rose, and by a sundry of other exit strategies that had never quite panned out. It seemed only fitting that now, Tokyo, his long craved haven, had become his prison for the next year.
He lifted his phone to check for the directions to Sojiro Sakura’s house. He knew he had to take one of these subway lines. But, strange: his phone was acting up. An app with an icon of a red eye had expanded to fill the screen. He tapped on it a few times, trying to get it to go away. Ugh, the screen was frozen. This had happened before, he just needed to reset his device. The sound of the bustling square around him tapered out like it was petering down through a funnel. The sudden silence unnerved him. He glanced up. Everyone in the square had come to a glacial standstill—mid-step, mid-word. Had the app paused time? Was he hallucinating?
Across the square, towering blue flames appeared with the abruptness of a silent explosion. He stared into them, wondering if the fire was spreading. He could almost make out two triangular yellow eyes and a grinning mouth staring back at him. His own face, shaggy bangs blown back, his eyes citrine and wicked. He blinked.
Back in the square. People moved like normal, talked like normal, weaving their lives around a center of emptiness. Definitely a hallucination then. That hadn’t happened before. He wondered if it was possible to digitally induce hallucinations through malware apps. It might make the plot of a good Sci Fi movie. Something Ray Bradbury would have approved of.
He knew he had been standing still too long when a bicycle rammed into him, throwing him to the ground. His glasses landed in the crossfire, the front wheel of the bike rolling over the left lens with a sickening crack. His elbow had the particular numbness that screamed ‘pain incoming’—it always took a second. He looked up and the boy on the bicycle had halted, staring down at him with a peculiar mix of condescension and disgust. It made him feel like the word “CRIMINAL” was written across his forehead like a scarlet letter.
The faces of the people around them turned to the scene like sunflowers drawn to light. He could barely make out the whispers, but they were enough to make him wonder if the boy on the bicycle was someone important. It would be just his luck. A bad run in with a politician followed by another bad encounter with some kind of celebrity.
The boy’s face altered so quickly, it was like a second eyelid closing over his contempt. He smiled and it grated on Ren’s nerves. Dismounting from his bike, the stranger tucked chin-length strands of caramel hair behind his ear and offered a gloved hand.
“I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” His words were plastic.
Ren’s voice dried up in his throat. He didn’t want to take the offer, but it would be kind of petty not to. He nodded in reply before clasping the outstretched hand and lifting himself up.
There was the brief flash of a camera and the boy grit his teeth. He was definitely attractive enough to be a celebrity.
“Please, let me buy you some tea to make up for breaking your glasses and injuring you.”
Injure ? Ren shifted his elbow and grimaced. It was a scraped up eyesore of blood and ripped fabric. He’d have to stitch the white turtleneck up. He only had a few iterations of his school uniform among his (few) possessions.
He shook his head and leaned down to pick up his broken glasses, hoping it would suffice as a refusal.
It didn’t.
The stranger was trying to smile pleasantly, but he couldn’t hide his annoyance at Ren’s dismissal. It was almost amusing. “I insist. Your elbow looks pretty bad and there’s a shop right here.”
Ren was about to refuse a second time, more firmly, when the boy grabbed his bag from the street and began walking away. And that was a power move, because now Ren couldn’t not follow him. It was grudgingly clever. He slid his broken lenses back onto his face, soothed by the sense of anonymity they gave him. Within minutes, they had arrived at a cutesy café that did not seem on brand at all for the person who had knocked into him. The stranger locked his bike at a rack near the entrance. They stepped in and were seated within minutes.
“I’ve heard their bubble tea is very good, along with their crêpes. I’ve been meaning to try out this place for a while. Order what you like.” The boy unbuttoned his beige trench coat, letting it slip off his shoulders. He wore a short-sleeved white office shirt and an elegant striped tie.
The awkwardness had already begun blooming between them, almost tangible. Ren tried to muffle the irritation that always came in the aftermath of his own inability to say no when it counted. He wondered how the boy would react if Ren sprinted out of the café full tilt and didn’t look back.
Unfortunately, he couldn’t. At some point, leaving had become more awkward than staying.
The fool he had run into had a softness that reminded Goro of a kitten. Meek, docile, stupid. He glanced at everything with huge, dark, bewildered eyes like he didn’t know where he was or where he was going. He was the kind of person Goro would want to cut down in such a way that he wouldn’t even realize he was being sliced apart by the time Goro was through. Loki rumbled approvingly within him.
He wouldn’t even be sitting in a café with this dolt right now if it wasn’t for the attention of his fans. The boy had been obstructing the flow of traffic; he got what was coming to him. If it wasn’t for Goro’s pathological need to protect his reputation against any possible threats, he would have been more than content to leave the boy sprawled on the ground and bike away.
They had been sitting in silence for almost seven minutes and Goro was going a little crazy. He might as well be polite. Most people would fall over themselves just to get a little bit of attention from him once they knew who he was. The boy would probably fall in line. “Your uniform—you’re a Shujin student right?”
The boy nodded.
“What year are you?”
“Second year.” The boy spoke for the first time. His voice was a little deeper and softer than expected, but it couldn’t make up for how boring of a subject he was. There was something interesting, perhaps, buried in his posture. A tendency to default to good posture, spine straight, shoulders relaxed, head tilted slightly down, etc., before reverting to a slouch almost purposefully. Whenever Goro went into posture analysis he knew he was reaching for straws. There were ten million other things he could be doing right now.
“I’m a third year, so that would make me your senior.”
The boy nodded, noncommittal.
“Have you decided what you want to eat yet?” Goro asked, trying to prod the boy into something more than a two word reply.
He merely shook his head and turned a page in response, staring down at the menu without squinting. Interesting .
“I’m sorry your glasses broke. Do you have an extra pair?”
“No, but it’s fine,” the boy said dismissively.
“Don’t you need them to see?”
“I don’t use them for that purpose.” As he thought .
“Then what do you use them for?” Goro asked, a little curious despite himself.
The question caused a shift. The menu was flipped shut. Had he touched a nerve?
“I guess nothing now. They’re broken anyways,” the boy said, something like irritation coloring his voice. He removed and folded his shattered spectacles in a not quite practiced motion. Goro really hadn’t paid enough attention when he had crashed into the boy on the road. For most people, the difference was hardly noticeable, but for this boy, his unadorned face was surprisingly striking. It was almost cinematic, something Clark Kent-esque that would turn up in the super hero shows Goro watched at night and never told anyone about.
Leaning his angular jaw on his fist, the boy made direct eye contact with Goro for the first time. His narrowed eyes were smoke and steel. Goro got the vaguest hint that the kitten might have claws, but he quickly dismissed the thought. He was always the worst person in any room he walked into. No competition.
“You can leave.”
Goro was so focused the words almost slipped him by.
“What?”
The boy exhaled. “I said you can leave. You’re obviously annoyed having to waste time here like this, but you’re under no obligation to stay. I don’t think you’re sorry about knocking into me, but I guess I accept some of the blame as well. I was distracted.”
A slow trickle of excitement dripped down Goro’s spine. “What did I do to deserve such harsh accusations? Must I apologize again to earn your forgiveness?”
The boy kissed his teeth. “Don’t bother. Just please stop pretending to be nice to me. It’s kind of disturbing.” Goro, with effort, resisted a violent response.
“I’m not sure what you mean by that. Do you always speak so frankly?” he asked instead, smiling to show he would not stop.
“Do you always lie so easily?” the boy responded.
Goro reached forward and tapped the boy’s glasses, victorious. “I’m not the only one.”
“I guess not,” the boy conceded, the vaguest hints of a smile curling in his eyes but not reaching his mouth.
“How did you know I was annoyed?” Goro asked.
“Your eyes were cold even as you said the right words.”
Goro scoffed. “Vague.”
The boy shrugged. “I usually trust my instincts about these things.”
Too easy. Goro smiled with venom. “Ah, it makes sense that you’ve developed such dependence on your keen instincts. After all, it seems you bear an unfortunate tendency to get on people’s nerves.”
The boy covered his mouth in a failed attempt to hide a laugh which was definitely the wrong response to Goro outright calling him annoying. He glanced at the detective through the dark veil of his eyelashes with mischief. “One of many flaws,” he confessed, uncontrite.
“The others?” Goro asked.
“Well, someone recently told me that I lie, so there’s that I guess.”
It surprised a chuckle out of Goro. He disguised it by clearing his throat.
The waitress arrived with a click of her heel and Goro experienced an unexpected surge of annoyance at the interruption. The boy had turned out somewhat more interesting than expected. “Sorry for the delay, gentlemen. Hope you’re doing well. What can I get you?”
The boy spoke up, his voice soft and apologetic. A return of a meekness that had to be at least a little put on. “Oh, sorry. We’re actually not—”
“I’ll have a peach milk tea with cheese cream foam and strawberry boba. I’ll also have a mango delight crêpe. My acquaintance will be having?” Goro turned to the boy askingly.
The boy bit his lip hesitantly but answered. “Strawberry tea with cheese cream foam and brown sugar boba.”
“What will you have to eat?” Goro asked.
The boy shook his head. “I’m not—”
“Do you like mango?”
“Umm, yes but—”
“He’ll have what I’m having.”
The waitress looked between the two of them, confused. She lingered a little too long, like she was unsure. Goro let it go on for a minute.
“Do you have a problem?” he finally asked somewhat sharply. The waitress flinched.
“Oh, sorry.” She took their menus and walked away quickly.
Goro turned his attention back to the boy who frowned at him.
“Is there a problem?” he asked again, saccharine.
“You were brusque with her,” the boy said, almost disapprovingly. Unfortunately, he was right. Goro had a reputation to keep up, and tolerating minor annoyances was just part and parcel of that. He usually didn’t slip.
“First you want me to stop being nice then you demand that I be nice again?” Goro tsked. “I think you should be more careful with what you ask for from people.”
“I’ll add recklessness to the list.”
Goro bit back a genuine smile. “I think it was already on there. You could add self-contradictory though.”
“I’ll think about it,” the boy said, teasing.
Goro held out his hand. “I’m Goro Akechi.”
There was no spark of familiarity or realization.
The boy returned his grip with surprising firmness. “Ren Amamiya.”
A poetic name. He almost said so out loud when his phone buzzed. Their hands separated.
He had thrown everything inside his briefcase in a hurry, eager to end the work day. He removed the book he was reading to place it out of the way on the table and sifted through the various files and worksheets he had haphazardly stacked inside. He found his phone within a case file, which made him question for a minute if it was a piece of evidence. No, it was most certainly his. The scuff marks from various early morning flings with the hardwood floor of his apartment confirmed it. He didn’t recognize the number or the area code of the caller, so it was most likely a scam call. He hit the red button to end the vibrating.
“Is this what you’re reading?” Ren asked, gesturing to Hamlet , when Akechi had put his phone away. He didn’t really know why he was trying to further the conversation at all. Akechi had proven himself to be somewhat of an asshole.
“Yes. It’s very good. I don’t think it’s everyone’s cup of tea, but I would highly recommend it.” Was Akechi aware of how thick the condescension dripped from his words? Ren had not only read Hamlet , but in fact loathed the play on an almost personal level.
He debated if he should say anything on it. He already knew he would. The chance of needling someone so high strung was too appealing to let pass. He fiddled with his blazer buttons. Despite the warmth of the day, he had thrown it on to hide his wounded elbow. He gathered the courage to speak.
“To be honest, I can’t stand Hamlet . Have you finished it?”
Akechi nodded, doing a poor job of hiding his surprise. Ren liked the way his eyes changed color in the light when they widened. Ren gathered the words to flesh out his opinion.
“Shakespeare wants Hamlet to be a deep character. He keeps mentioning ‘that which passes show,’ some hidden or unseen side of Hamlet that’s supposed to make him more profound than what he is. But Hamlet just uses that unseen deepness and his grief as an excuse to be an ass to everyone around him. He gets too many people caught in the crossfire and he’s ineffective. Also I think he has the emotional maturity of a 5 year old.”
Akechi crossed his ankles and narrowed his eyes. “Emotional maturity of a 5 year old? I think his expression of grief at Ophelia’s funeral was rather complex and moving. And Shakespeare was effectively doing way more with Hamlet than you presume. He did not just make up depth, it’s the subjectivity effect. By alluding to the fact that we don’t have full access to a character’s subconscious, they become more real to us. There are thoughts we can’t comprehend in Hamlet’s mind. By referencing those thoughts, Hamlet becomes tangible.”
Ren scoffed. “Hamlet’s display at her grave was vulgar. I didn’t find anything particularly moving about it. He made her whole death about himself and how much more he apparently loves her than her own brother. Also, based on what you just said, I would think the subjectivity effect works better when the author is not outright telling you there’s hidden depth. I’d rather it be more subtle and nuanced.”
“You think Shakespeare’s too explicit about Hamlet’s subconscious?”
“Not about his whole subconscious, just about how sad and depressed he is. Writing outright that Hamlet has some inner grief he can’t come to terms with is the opposite of complexifying his character.”
“You have to remember that Hamlet is a play, Amamiya. Thus there are certain limitations that arise when conveying a character’s subconscious. Some explicitness is to be expected, but there is much about Hamlet’s subconscious that is yet unknown. In many places, you have to extrapolate how he must be feeling from the situational premise of the play. His uncle betrayed his father and his mother married his uncle, betraying Hamlet in a sense. On top of that, he must hide his sorrow at losing his father in order to stay close enough to his mother and uncle to enact revenge. He has no outlet for that loss and so we see it inevitably leak out in various forms throughout the events of the play, such as Ophelia’s funeral.”
This was actually kind of fun. “Hmm. Reading it as a play expressing different sides of mourning makes it a little more interesting. But I think the story makes an unconvincing jump from the effects of grief on Hamlet to suddenly showing that Hamlet has a reckless disregard for the lives of people unrelated to his goal, like Polonius. That’s what made me stop rooting for Hamlet. How much of his behavior can grief justify?”
Akechi scoffed. “Hamlet is operating under a framework of not only grief but also vengeance. He sees only allies and enemies. Polonius is firmly on his Uncle’s side. The whole event where he sees his uncle and Polonius conspiring to set him up with Ophelia just cements his allegiance. Therefore, Polonius was expendable in Hamlet’s plot. He didn’t care for him.”
“See but that’s a very scorched earth revenge strategy. Hamlet has no plan for what comes after. The whole ending sequence where literally all the characters die makes the vengeance pointless. It also makes Hamlet seem aimless; that, along with his indecisiveness and hesitation.”
“Are you of the belief that an avenger needs a happily-ever-after to enact perfect revenge?” Akechi asked.
“Yes. I mean, don’t they say the best revenge is to live well? I think, when it comes down to it, your own personal happiness and success is the cherry on top.”
Akechi laughed. “I think you’re a bit of an optimistic fool, Amamiya. But I want to refer back to your earlier allusion to Hamlet’s hesitation. In my mind, this is what cements his complexity as a character. He hesitates because he is torn between his passion for revenge and his rationality. He knows completing his revenge will destroy Denmark and any semblance of family he has left. His hesitation is what marks him an incompetent avenger. He is too attached to his mother and his kingdom to do what needs to be done.”
“I don’t agree, Akechi. I think Hamlet hesitates because he can’t see revenge without his own death being part of it. So he has to come to terms with death before he can complete his revenge. He shows a lot of concern throughout the play for what happens afterwards. The whole thing with his father being a ghost thing and the scene with the gravediggers and the skull of Yorick are good examples. I mean: "To be or not to be," is literally Hamlet thinking about dying. I think he uses his revenge partly as a way of fulfilling this desire. So, what makes him an incompetent avenger is his inability to reason out a revenge plan where he comes out on the other side intact with his happiness attached.”
“That’s a fascinating take. So you’re saying if Hamlet was more willing to strive for personal happiness on par with his revenge, he would have been more effective in taking out Claudius?”
Ren nodded.
Akechi placed his index finger on his chin pensively. “Hmm, you’ve definitely given me something to think about. On a side note, did you know Hamlet was an inspiration for some of Sigmund Freud’s most famous theories, namely the Oedipus complex?”
Ren made a face like he had bit into a raw onion.
Akechi laughed. Strange, how much more agreeable he appeared when he genuinely smiled.
“Haha. I know Freud is problematic, don’t look at me like that. I do, however, think psychoanalysis is an interesting lens to interpret literature. Have you by chance heard of Lacan?”
Ren shook his head.
“He’s a little bit less known than Freud, but he has a popular theory on mirrors. He wrote that our self image is based on the first glimpse we see of ourselves in a mirror. However, this cognition inevitably falls short, so part of our image will always be rooted in the realm of the imagination. To me, it means we’re all missing aspects of ourselves, searching for completion. Perhaps Hamlet saw completion in his death.”
Ren bit his lip. “That’s… a very dark take on it. I don’t think death can be a missing part of your identity, and it’s not fully clear that Hamlet overcame his fear of death or integrated it within himself. He just had to give into it in the end. I prefer thinking he is peaceful because he has come to terms with his grief and knows that the truth will prevail, even if he doesn’t get to be the one to recount the events.”
“Then in a sense, he did overcome death, Amamiya. His story will be remembered and told through Horatio, so he is effectively immortalized.”
“I don’t know if that’s enough to say he got over death, Akechi.”
Akechi waved his hand dismissively. “We’re all just stories at the end of the day, Amamiya. If even part of your work or life is remembered, I would call that a victory. I think we’ve rendered Hamlet ’s ending less nihilistic with this interpretation. I would go as far as to say it’s almost hopeful.”
Ren smiled, a little bemused. “Was that what we were intending to do? Reinterpret Hamlet ?”
“No, but it’s what we accomplished,” Akechi said, smiling back.
Ren crossed his legs. “This doesn’t have to do with the play, but Lacan’s theory reminds me of an analysis I read for one of my favorite shows. I guess it deals more with interpersonal connections than death though.”
Akechi raised an eyebrow. “I'm intrigued.”
“In the show there are different main characters with different special abilities who have to team up to defend justice. In the process, they all become very close and you start to see how they work together not only on a physical level but an emotional one. The strength of these bonds gives them the ultimate strength to defeat the existential threat to justice in the climax. It makes me think that creating tight-knit links with others and finding your soulmates is how you fill the missing parts of yourself.”
Akechi cleared his throat. His cheeks were flushed. “Are you, perhaps, talking about Phoenix Ranger Feathermen R?”
Ren nodded.
“Isn’t that, umm, a kid’s show?” Akechi asked.
Ren frowned. “Well, yes. But I think of the show as a work of art, so it opens it up for interpretation and critique. It makes compelling arguments about justice and moral ambiguity. Just saying we should ignore it because it’s not intended for our age group is a bit reductive. I know there are plenty of older fans too.”
“Yes! I… I agree completely. In fact, I may have, uh, watched a few episodes myself.” Akechi’s face was bright pink. It was kind of cute, Ren thought. “So in response to your analysis, I would say that that is actually one of my lesser liked aspects of the show. It doesn’t seem realistic to me that so many characters with such varying personalities and motivations could get along so well and be so close-knit with each other. It’s not realistic.”
Ren sighed. “I can’t argue that it’s realistic. But families of choice and fire-forged friendships are two of my favorite tropes of all time. I love the thought that you get to build your own family with the people you love.”
“People technically do that through marriage already, Amamiya, so I can’t say there’s no basis in the real world. But it’s surprising how fond of it you are. Are you close with your own family?”
Ren’s heart convulsed in his chest like it was being electrocuted; his mouth curved a little too wide. “I don’t know if my liking for the trope has to be related to my personal circumstances, Akechi. It’s a pretty popular trope in general I think.”
“You’re right,” Akechi conceded, tapping the table with his gloved hand. “I merely got a little curious, my apologies. To be honest, I’ve never had someone speak so honestly with me before. You’re not afraid to disagree with me either. To reference Hegel, ‘advancement cannot occur without both thesis and antithesis.’”
Ren raised an eyebrow askingly.
“It’s a philosophical concept. Basically, disagreement leads to the creation of new, in my opinion superior, ideas. Here, give me the first conceptual word that comes to mind. It’s best explained through example.”
“Peace,” Ren said.
“Ah, you’ve chosen a more difficult one. Well, the theoretical antithesis to peace is war, would you agree?”
Ren nodded.
“So eventually the two will have to merge and come to terms to create a new concept. This case actually reminds me a little bit of the Cold War between America and the USSR. A stasis not quite war or peace but with plenty of intellectual flourishing and development. It’s not a perfect example though, as it was technically still a war.”
“Maybe rivalry?” Ren suggested. “That is, if countries can have traditional rivalries.”
“Healthy competition to avoid both the stagnation of peace and the devastation of war. Perfect. You’ve grasped the concept. We’d then have to find the opposite of rivalry to create a new antithesis. Those two concepts would battle for a new synthesis and the cycle continues. Here, let’s do another one. Give me another word.”
“Freedom.”
Akechi sighed. “Another tough one. Hmmm. What I think of personally for its antithesis is security; though, I’m not sure that’s exactly right.”
Ren nodded.
“So for synthesis I would say it would be the government. It punishes criminals providing security to the country and it passes laws guaranteeing certain freedoms to the citizens.”
Ren scoffed. “I think the government is way more invested in security than freedom. Society as a whole feels devised to deny as much freedom as possible; especially to its youngest citizens. I think the synthesis between the two hasn’t emerged yet to be honest.”
Akechi smiled. “You sound like an anarchist, Amamiya. Do you have something to confess?”
Ren laughed. “No, definitely not. I believe in the government as an institution. I just think our criminal justice system is more than a little problematic. I mean, with the allegations of forced confessions, the high conviction rate, and the corruption amongst politicians, it's hard to trust in any justice the system delivers.”
“I agree with you that the justice system is far from ideal. However, it is still the fruit of hundreds of years of evolution. Change will be slow, but it will happen. That pace is vital to keep our systems stable. Thus, I choose to uphold it.”
Ren sighed. “I can’t fault you there. I suppose I’m just a little impatient.”
Akechi leaned forward across the table, his eyes darkening. “Believe me when I say I feel you, Amamiya. Justice is frustrating and contradictory. Sometimes, I wonder whether there’s anything worthy left in the concept at all. But I have to believe for now. It’s part of why I find Feathermen so interesting. It doesn’t accept any view of justice as inherently more right than another view. It’s surprisingly subversive for a show airing on public television. I think it gets away with it because it’s a kid’s show. Each Featherman has their own vision of justice and while their views often come into conflict, each character has a valid point and no one’s opinion is just bull-dozed over.”
Ren nodded in agreement. The table suddenly caught his eye. Akechi followed his eye-line downwards.
“It looks like the food has arrived,” Akechi said. “To be honest, I didn’t even notice.”
“Same.”
They began eating.
“Do you have a favorite episode?” Ren asked.
Akechi’s eyes lit up.
When Amamiya smiled, his eyes softened to dove wings. They had switched back and forth between topics numerous times and had now finally settled on Neo Phoenix Ranger Feathermen, the sequel series. Amamiya was currently recounting his thoughts on the latest episode. Goro couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed till his diaphragm had hurt. He heard the click of the waitress’ heels approaching and composed himself.
“Excuse me sirs, but we’re closing.”
Goro balked. He switched on his phone and glanced at the time. They had spent hours talking. He had completely lost track of time.
Amamiya seemed to have come to the same realization. His face had returned to his stoic default expression and Goro kind of liked that he didn’t smile very easily. The waitress cleared the table and Goro went to the front to pay, Amamiya trailing behind him. They stepped outside the café and the sun was already setting, splashing everything with gold.
“You make an excellent debate partner, Amamiya. In fact, your perspective over the last few hours has made me think about many things in unexpected ways. Would you like to trade contact information? I would like for our conversations to continue.”
Amamiya nodded and handed his phone over. Goro was surprised by how few contacts there were. Only 2 or 3 other people.
“I just moved to Tokyo today. I’m glad the first person I ran into ended up becoming a friend. It’s a good omen.” Amamiya’s gray eyes were warm again as he looked at Goro. His face was lit pink by the sunset.
Friend?
“Do you believe in such things? Fate and destiny and the like?” Goro asked, handing back the phone.
Amamiya scuffed his heel against the sidewalk. “I mean, a little bit. I think coincidences are little nudges from the world towards the right path, you know?”
Goro couldn’t help but think of the series of coincidences that had led him here, all beginning with the Persona given to him by God for his mission.
“I think I do know. But it’s a conversation for another time. We should head to the station. It’s in the direction I have to bike towards to get back home.”
“Is it safe, biking at night?” Amamiya asked, biting his lip. Goro wondered if he hailed from the countryside or another city. Country, if Goro were to hazard a guess.
Goro scoffed at the nerve. “You don’t need to worry about me. My home is close by and I can take care of myself.”
“Mmkay. I’m going to Yongen Jaya.”
“You know which line to take?”
Mischief danced across Amamiya’s face even though his expression did not change. “You don’t need to worry about me. I can take care of myself,” he said in a gruff imitation of Goro’s voice.
Goro frowned at the sass.
“Besides, I have my phone’s GPS.”
“Okay. Make sure to text me so I can save your number,” Goro ordered.
“Roger,” Amamiya said cheekily, giving Goro a solemn salute. Absolutely infuriating.
“I’ll see you.”
They parted ways, Goro mounting his bike for the short ride home.
There was a surprising amount of elation that came from a good debate. Energy surged through his toes up to his hair like electricity. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a conversation that was so thorough or with such a well-suited opponent. Amamiya had turned out to be quite clever. Goro was glad he had hit him with the bike.
But he did wonder if Amamiya knew how to take care of the wound adequately. He hadn’t disinfected it or anything. Not that he could at the restaurant.
Goro scoffed at the idiocy of his own thoughts. Amamiya’s elbow was going to be fine. After all, it had scabbed over already.
When he got home, Goro kicked off his shoes, tossed his coat on the rack, and tied up his hair into a ponytail. He laid back on the sofa, feeling exhaustion creep up through his limbs. He grabbed his phone, and a text message lit up on the screen. He tapped on it to go to his messages.
???: Hi
???: This is Ren Amamiya.
How eloquent. At least he had punctuated. He saved the number in his phone.
Akechi: How is your elbow doing?
Amamiya: It’s fine! I actually forgot it was injured haha.
Akechi: Make sure to give it proper medical attention. It needs a good cleaning and a bandage.
Amamiya: okay will do (＾＾)ｂ
The kaomoji was a little unexpected but Goro couldn’t say he disliked it. This was surely how teenagers these days communicated with one another. Perhaps he should take note for his blog, sprinkle in a few convivial emojis himself in his next post.
His phone rang, and Goro almost dropped it on his face from surprise. It was the same number from the restaurant. He picked it up this time.
“You missed my earlier call. Did you even see my message?”
It was amazing how fast Goro’s blood could begin boiling just at the sound of Masayoshi Shido’s voice.
“Ah yes. Of course it will be done.”
“I expect nothing less from you, Goro. You’ve set the bar high with your previous performances.” It was almost funny how heavy-handed Shido’s attempts at flattery were. The praise still felt nice though.
“Thank you, sir. By any chance, did you change your number?”
“I’ve decided our calls need more security, so I will be calling from this number for now. That isn’t a problem, is it?”
“Of course not.”
“I anticipate some excellent results soon.”
And with that Shido hung up the phone. Goro almost flung it against the wall, but resisted the impulse though Loki grumbled discontentedly.
In the long list of things Shido had taken from him, peace of mind was always near the top. It would be nice to recapture that feeling in the café earlier today. It had been a bit cutesy, but there had been something quite soothing about being there. He should probably go back and make a blog entry about the food, though he hadn’t paid too much attention to it. Maybe he could pick out the kaomojis beforehand.
“You’re starting school Monday. We’ll head to Shujin on Sunday to introduce you to the staff. Until then, you’ll be helping me out here. Don’t think about causing any trouble,” Sojiro said.
“I’ll do my best,” Ren replied. He almost reached for his throat in surprise. It was definitely sore. He had never talked so much before that his voice had actually physically started hurting. Was that normal?
“Huh,” Sojiro said thoughtfully, like he didn’t believe him. “Anyway, kid, this is your room.”
Ren examined the attic silently. The space was huge and cluttered, a thin film of dust coating everything. The threadbare mattress rested on old milk crates. It would take a while to clean up.
“You look like you wanna say something.” Sojiro’s eyes glinted and Ren suspected that this was a test. Perhaps Sojiro wanted to establish his hesitation in taking in Ren at all by giving him a storage loft to sleep in. It made sense. After all, who would want a criminal sleeping in their actual home.
It was fine, Ren hadn’t expected kindness from his probation guardian. This was more than enough.
“It’s big,” he responded.
“Well, it’ll be up to you to clean up the rest. I’ll at least give you sheets for the bed.”
Ren nodded.
Sojiro gave a speedy rendition of the events before and after his arrest (not that Ren could really disagree with any of it, except the part where he had supposedly injured that man) before giving the sage advice Ren had heard over and over again since the police had first handcuffed him. Should have minded your own business .
Sojiro eventually headed back down, leaving Ren to unpack. There wasn’t a closet or a wardrobe, so he might as well leave his clothes in the box they had arrived in. He didn’t have very many outfits, and the cardboard box would fit with the decor at least. Next, he placed his broken glasses on the window sill. He’d have to go purchase another pair asap. As they were, they’d likely just attract attention, the opposite of their intended effect.
There were some cleaning supplies lying in the attic like the process had been started but not yet finished. Ren rolled up his sleeves and got to work.
A few hours later, Sojiro closed down the café and left for his house. The attic was a lot more cheerful after it had been cleaned and Ren decided that he liked the privacy. Café Leblanc opened early so he might as well go to bed. Ren changed into his pajamas and rinsed his scabbed-over elbow, patting it dry. It was already on its way to healing up well. He threw himself onto the bed and reached for his phone.
Akechi had texted him. Excitement spiralled up through him, almost tangible.
The subject line read: “On our prior conversation…” Ren eagerly tapped the chat.
Akechi had left him a pretty lengthy message, all perfectly punctuated, as Ren had expected it to be. He quickly read through it and smirked. Akechi was just asking to be contradicted.
He started typing. He didn’t usually have the patience for paragraph length texts, but the words were practically flying from his fingers. He hit the send button wondering how long it would—
Oh! The reply came fast. Akechi was still awake then.
They continued texting for over an hour before Ren had to throw in the towel. He had to be alert when Sojiro taught him the ropes tomorrow. The man’s opinion of him was already pretty low. He could only imagine how much lower it would go if he broke something or made a stupid mistake.
Akechi texted back that he had school in the morning so he should be going to bed too. Ren stifled a yawn, texting good night before plugging in his phone for charging. He rolled over, pulling the blanket up to his chin before drifting off.