Makoto stirred. Her crimson eyes drifted open, glancing first at the window to the right of the bed, then to the clock below it. The digital display read 6:48. She rolled out from under the sheet and curled up at the side of the bed, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment and sighing.
Most police commissioners would wake up to an alarm, but Makoto didn't need one. She had a strong biological clock, triggered by the equally strong smell that made its way up the stairs every morning, usually between six-thirty and seven, seven days a week.
Makoto was glad it had a reliable track record, and the police department would presumably be glad too, if they knew it was responsible for getting their commissioner in the office on time. She yawned, kicked her feet off the bed, and tucked them into her matching Buchimari slippers. The floorboards creaked as she stood.
Most police commissioners would also live somewhere nicer than an attic above a small cafe in the backstreets of Tokyo, but there she was, descending the noisy stairs, stretching her legs, and smiling at the backside of a very unkempt head of black hair that leaned over a large cast iron pot. Akira craned his neck, tapping his wooden spoon on the rim and resting it on the stove top. Makoto didn't give him time to turn before she snaked her arms around his waist. She made a point of resting them under his apron.
"Hey" she murmured into his back.
He spoke a muffled "Good morning" into her hair, returning the hug with his left hand and sliding her a bowl of rice with the other. He returned his focus to the pot as Makoto slipped away. "We ran out of lime" he sniffed, frowning. "It might be a little flat. I'll get more this afternoon."
"I'm sure I'll survive" she giggled, squeezing next to him in the confines of LeBlanc's kitchenette. Akira liked to preface each pot of curry he made with a self deprecating remark, and Makoto figured that the day he didn't would be the day he finally made a batch he considered as good as Sojiro's. She gave up telling him not to worry a long time ago.
"The coffee is perfect though", he winked.
They sat across from each other at the booth furthest to the back. In high school, Makoto was conscious of being seen through the window, sitting with a boy. She didn't care now, but habit was habit.
Akira looked up from his curry. "Mostly meetings this week, right?"
"Mostly meetings." She sighed. "Maybe all meetings. All day". She grinned and gestured towards her nearly empty mug. "Maybe I'll need another cup." Akira shook his head and placed his arm across the table like a barrier between her and her caffeine source.
"Are you forgetting how long it took you to kick the four cup a day habit you picked up in first year? Are you forgetting those headaches?" He raised an eyebrow.
Makoto did remember some grumpy afternoons, made worse by the fact that her concerned and slightly afraid boyfriend who only wanted to help smelled exactly like the substance she needed to avoid. "Maybe" she laughed, reaching for her mug over Akira's arm. She brought it to her lips and paused. "But maybe meetings are a good thing for now."
Akira nodded and reflected on last week.
On Monday morning, Makoto took only three bites of curry before her spoon drifted around the edge of her of bowl, her eyes drifting to her lap. It took Akira only three seconds to reach across the table and cup his hands around her right palm, but truthfully, he could sense she was anxious from the speed she descended the stairs that morning. Quick in anything Makoto did usually meant tense, or annoyed.
"It's gonna be fine" he said, rubbing his thumb across the top of her hand.
"As you always say" she pouted.
"And when have I ever been wrong?" Akira raised his eyebrow and implored Makoto to think of all the stacked odds, shadow battles, political upheavals, and god showdowns that swung in their favor years ago. Akira stopped moving his thumb. She paused.
"The Reaper?"
Akira breathed out his nose. "Besides that."
Makoto closed her eyes. "You never were" She smiled.
"Exactly." He squeezed her hand again, except this time her fingers tensed together. Her eyes returned to her lap. Akira sighed.
"But you were always there." She whispered.
Akira's leaned in. "I'm here now. Just tell me what you need to make this easier"
Akira had a way of speaking sometimes that made it very difficult for Makoto to look him in the eyes. "But you already do so much-"
"Makoto" Akira interrupted.
"Ok" she huffed. She hung her head to disguise the red that was creeping across her cheeks. "Can you come sit beside me?"
Akira smiled and moved.
On Tuesday morning, Makoto woke up to a different, stronger, sweeter smell. She rolled over, and Akira was seated at the edge of the bed. On his lap was a tray, and on the tray was a stack of crepes topped with whipped cream and strawberries. He was beaming.
"Wha-"
"These are for you." He said.
Makoto rubbed her eyes, resting her hands over her face when she was done. She exhaled. "My brain can't even process this right now".
Akira tilted his head. "What about your stomach?"
Makoto groaned and sat up. She stared blankly at Akira, eyes half open, as he grinned from one lense of his glasses to the other. He extended his arms and presented the tray. Slowly, her expression began to match his. "You're too much sometimes" she giggled. She slid the tray off his lap and onto her own. "But thank you, dear".
She should have waited until she saw the strawberries before she made any comments about Akira's excess, because they were arranged in the shape of a heart.
On Wednesday morning, Akira leaned against the bar and tapped a stack of flashcards against the counter top, realigning them.
Makoto, from the barstool across from him, cracked her fingers and leaned forward. "I want to go through those again" she spoke.
Akira frowned. "I seem to remember you telling me back in highschool that cramming was useless. Besides, you just got through all of these without a moment's hesitation."
Makoto hesitated and pursed her lips.
"I don't recall you ever needing to study when we infiltrated palaces, either." Akira continued.
"I-"
"It's ok" Akira smiled, stepping away from the bar to prepare Morgana's breakfast. "I also know you find studying relaxing, and relaxing is exactly what you should be doing." He disappeared to grab a can of tuna from the bottom shelf. "I'll tell you what" he re-emerged. "I'll take a look through your case notes again and make more cards."
"I'd like that." Makoto said softly. "Even if it doesn't help, it helps me process things, I guess." Akira always said Makoto still had more student council president in her adult self than she realized, and she was starting to think he was right.
"I'll have them done by the time you get home" he said, reaching for the can opener. He paused halfway through opening the cutlery cabinet.
"Akira?" Makoto asked.
He smirked. "But I'm going to really drill it into you, so prepare yourself."
Morgana awoke to the sound of Akira fleeing up the stairs.
On Thursday morning, Makoto woke up at four, and entered the same cycle of sleepless anxiety that usually gripped her before an exam: worrying about something scary, losing sleep, then worrying about how lost sleep will only make the scary thing worse. She didn't miss nights like this, but thankfully, she didn't forget the old workaround, either.
She tugged at the arm spread across her shoulder, running her fingers across his open palm. Akira stirred.
"Mm?" Akira mumbled into her neck. His hand woke up faster than his brain, interlocking fingers with hers.
"I can't sleep" she admitted, quietly. Akira shifted, wiggled a bit, and pulled her closer. As his head settled into the nape of her neck, she could feel his mouth curl into a soft smile.
"Did I ever tell you about how I managed to fix that laptop?"
She shuddered at the closeness of his voice and closed her eyes. "Yeah, but I think I fell asleep halfway through" she whispered.
"Perfect."
On Friday morning, Makoto and her team concluded a sixth month long investigation into a narcotics ring run by the Shibuya mafia, following up a sting operation with a large scale raid on their lab and distribution hideout that fronted as an electronic warehouse. 36 were arrested, and Makoto closed the book on her first successful operation that she lead start to finish.
On Saturday morning, she and Akira slept till noon.
Akira adjusted Makoto's headband, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear with his free hand. He kissed her forehead and pulled her into a hug.
"You look lovely. As if the police force needed anymore reason to admire you right now."
Makoto smiled into his chest. "Thank you" she hummed. Her eyes met Akira's. "I couldn't have done it without you, I-" her eyes shifted downwards "You're always so supportive, and-"
Akira pressed a finger to her lips. "Makoto, that's my job. I'm only a part-time barista." He cupped her face between his palms, feeling her cheeks curl into a smile.
"I love you, Akira."
He nuzzled the top of her head, speaking gently into her hair. "I love you too. Enjoy your meetings. As best you can."
They stayed for a minute, then parted. Makoto waved as she stepped through LeBlanc's front door, turning the closed sign over on her way out. Akira watched her disappear down the alley of Yongen as he reached for his apron, draped over one of the booths. He remembered a day from years ago.
Akira felt his phone vibrate. He removed his hands from the curry pot he was scrubbing and wiped them hastily on a bar cloth. He opened his messaging app and read the text he had been waiting for all day.
Sis just texted me. She said she talked to the higher ups. She didn't tell me how it went, but she wants you to come for dinner. Is that ok?
"Somewhere to be?" Sojiro asked, observing Akira's fixation with his phone. Akira nodded.
Yeah.
"Makoto, maybe this should wait until after dinner-"
"Sis!" Makoto stood from her chair, a mix of agitation and anxiety in her eyes. Her hands tensed around the edge of the dinner table. Akira stayed seated, unsure of who to look at, unsure of what to say, and unsure whether to put his hands in his pockets. "Please!" Makoto continued, looking back to Akira for affirmation.
Sae, standing in the entrance of the Niijima apartment, had been unable to take off her shoes or set down her bag before Makoto questioned her.
"Well-" Sae looked at Akira, and then the floor. "I spoke with them, and I tried, but-". She inhaled. Neither Akira or Makoto breathed. "But, with a criminal record, - it's as we probably guessed - there's no chance of working for the police."
Akira felt a dull sting settle across his face. A heavy silence blanketed the room, punctuated by the hum of the ceiling fan above the dinner table. He found it hard to maintain eye contact with Sae, and was afraid to look at Makoto.
"I understand" he spoke.
Sae fidgeted with the straps of her bag. "I'm sorry, Akira. I'll- I'm going to have a bath before dinner. We can continue this later." She strode to the bathroom, not waiting to take off her shoes.
Makoto crumpled into her seat when she heard the bathroom door close. Akira watched her shoulders rise and fall unevenly for a moment before she brought her hands to her face and cried.
His hands shook as he pulled his chair next to hers. He steadied them by squeezing her shoulders, figuring it was best to let things settle before speaking. She broke the silence first, with a shaky, muffled question.
"How am I supposed to do it without you?"
Akira removed his glasses. With his free hand, he pulled her hands away from her face and held her chin, turning her face carefully to face him. Red splotches had already formed beneath her eyes.
"Makoto, I won't need a uniform to be there for you. I promise."