N.A: As always, a huge thanks to amariys, for being so kind, and for the proofreading! :) Please read and enjoy.

Sacred20, prompt 9: pilgrimage.

Grains

Because coffee was the only thing he could drink, Haise has acquired a habit of looking for coffee shops ever since he was a Second Class Investigator.

Finding new places gives him a feeling of satisfaction. How would the coffee taste like in this place?, he wonders, each time.

He feels the bitter flavor invades his mouth, the smell of roasted beans infiltrates his lungs. When the hot drink is down in his stomach, it gives him focus, makes him more alert. It appeases his hunger, and the monster within him. A steamy silence covers softly his ears, and the voices inside of his head are ceased.

Sometimes, when he has too much coffee, his heart races. It beats so fast, it even scares him a bit.

But even in these times, the coffee always can give him a peace which he couldn't explain.

There are strange thoughts that come to him, in these times. "It's not this one," he catches himself thinking, as he drinks the first sip of coffee in the newfound place.

What am I looking for, after all?, he asks himself.

(But then, asking himself is a dangerous thing – it could be him, him, he who lives in the shadows of his soul, faceless, soulless- no, no, no, he's the one who is in loss of memories, empty vessel, empty heart-)

He shakes his head; he's overthinking.

It's just coffee, he thinks.

-x-

"This seems a nice place," he says to his subordinates.

He notes: a strange choice of name for a coffee shop, a quiet man on the balcony, a pretty waitress,

and an uneasy feeling.

After a little incident about the quiet man on the balcony, and some waiting, the waitress places their orders on the table. The smell is inviting, and his nose kagune is really something, he thinks proudly, as he takes his cup.

.

.

.

And then.

Just a sip of that coffee.

It's all that it takes.

It feels like finding something that he doesn't know until now that he was looking for, like finding something that he thought was gone, lost forever. It's coming back to him, and it's him coming back to where he once belonged to.

It's just coffee, he thinks.

But when he realizes it, he's crying.

Shirazu's voice reaches him, but it seems so far away. He doesn't know what he'd just said to him. Everything is blurry, like coffee steam, and maybe it's his confusion, or his tears.

And the waitress – so beautiful, the kind of beauty he never thinks could actually exist in this world – gives him a handkerchief, which he accepts, forgetting that he has his own in his coat pocket.

"I'm sorry… the coffee is really, really good," is all that he can manage. If at least he had a pun or a story, it wouldn't be so pathetic – but he's in lack of words, of stories, of past; so he doesn't say anything else.

"Thank you," she says, the corner of her lips curving softy into a smile, like she knows. Like she understands, and how could she, he wants to ask; do I know you, he does not ask. It's strange. He hasn't drink that much coffee, however he feels his heart pounding through his chest, and there's this feeling he can almost recognize. It doesn't make sense, and yet–

Haise tries to recall, to remember, looking for anything familiar in her features, he's sure he wouldn't forget someone like her.

And.

He.

He can't remember anything.

But she is smiling at him, and it's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

So he tries to freeze time, instead – tries to capture the nostalgic taste of coffee, the floral and errant scent mixed with grain's smell, the sad gentleness of her smile; and he uses them to build a memory for himself, and this, this is what he wants, and if he had already forgotten everything else, at least he could have this–

this very moment,

this warmth.