Four turned into five on the date display, bottom right of Futaba's desktop. Full versions of popular anime openings and endings somebody had compiled fed her ears and blended together so seamlessly she could no longer distinguish each song from another without concentrating. A chat box peppered with emojis and Japanese that would make any classical composition teacher resign on the spot reflected in her glasses. The conversation flew by quicker than any bystander could read, but to her, it felt like it had been ongoing for hours. Her conversation partner was being infuriatingly obstinate.
No cash grab. Boring.
Come on Baba. We make the game, the people pay, we get out, the game dies. Easy.
Baba was her. Well, it was supposed to be Alibaba. As in, Ali Baba, Arabian Nights, Open Sesame, keeper of thieves' secrets. She thought it was apt for her line of work, and it was easy to write in both Japanese and English. However, the net being the net, anything longer than two syllables was too much hassle to type, so she was dubbed Baba instead. It was annoying enough on its own, before people started calling her a granny.
Don't care. Boring.
The words Mr. Game X is typing... flashed on the screen, and she threw head back against the chair. The red "x" button in top corner of the chat box was looking mighty tempting now.
Mr. Game X liked making games, but he was all about designs and scenarios and was clueless about the actual code required to make the things work. She had an abundance of knowledge in that field and time to put it to use, but the last time she took a pencil to a sketchbook ended with a drawing so hideous a parent wouldn't even put it on the fridge. On paper, it looked a good match-up.
Then they got to discussing what type of game they should make, and hoo boy, did that go well. Long story short, Mr. Game X wanted to make a gacha game, so he could make bank on the in-app purchases and let the thing fall into the wasteland of other such mobage. She found the plan insidious; tricking people out of their cash and then running away really wasn't her thing. Her skills were for nobler purposes and the incoming wall-of-text was not going to convince her otherwise.
Incidentally, the sketchbook had since been lost to the books, cardboard folders and trash bags ripping from a scrunched-up-paper overload. If she spent as much time practising her drawing as she did negotiating with Mr. Game X, she'd probably have the made game on her own by now.
A melodic ping in her ear told of activity in Leblanc. She paused the music and listened in while checking off a mental list of the things Ren could be doing after the cafe closed for the night. In the past two weeks, he had cleaned, read, studied and agonised over crossword puzzles. She knew because he was in the habit of discussing his activities aloud with a peculiarly chatty cat. It didn't make any sense, but there was no other way she could interpret the broken dialogue and endless meowing picked up by the bug.
Sojiro never mentioned the cat to her. Her current theory was he allowed Ren to keep it so he could have something to focus on, like giving a naughty child a pet goldfish so he'd stop beating up other kids on the playground. Sojiro himself was probably pleased to have a cat around despite the blatant violations to Leblanc's sanitisation standards; it was, quite possibly, the first domino on the way to Leblanc turning into a full-blown cat cafe.
Apart from the whole cat thing, the number of reasons for tuning in was rapidly dwindling. Ren didn't do anything. Couldn't do anything, even. A single wrong move would see him carted away in a police car with his future in tatters. All he'd have to do was get on Sojiro's bad side and then whoosh, off he'd go, never to be seen again. He was a prisoner no matter what he did.
Even if that wasn't the case, there wasn't much to do in Leblanc besides read, study and talk to the cat. Maybe he could sniff the coffee-scented furniture until he was craving beans or something. If she had the choice to swap her room for Leblanc, she would very happily stay in her room, with her top-of-the-line computers, multiple monitors, mini-fridge, air-conditioning, and easy access to a bath that didn't cost money to use. There was no reason to leave. Ever.
So. Ren's situation was far from ideal. However, sympathy wasn't why she kept tuning in. Every now and then, she would pick up snippets of conversation about odd things. A "meta" something. "Kamo" what's his name. "Persona". Whenever these terms came up, the feed would freak out and blast her with static, and then normalise just in time for the conversation to return to being mundane. She could swear he was somehow doing it on purpose, despite the fact she was the only one to know about the bug.
She wasn't the sort to leave a puzzle unfinished, no matter how difficult it was. As long as she had some pieces, she could work out a solution. Tonight was another step towards that goal.
Meow, meow meow, meowwwwww...
"Soon," came Ren's level voice. "Kamo- will get- don't worry."
Meow meow meow meow
"The Meta- is not going anywhere."
Meow. Meow meow.
"I'm more worried about returning this book on time."
The conversation, as much as it could be called one, digressed into Ren's taste in literature, which basically amounted to "anything he could get his hands on". He wasn't a fussy reader; hardly the most valuable information to be learning. Small change compared to the other piece of information she acquired from sitting through a dozen or so of those mundane exchanges: the name of his school.
Shujin Academy. Located in Aoyama somewhere, with a respectable number of graduates admitted into universities – so said the school's website, anyway. Ordinary on the surface, until she thought about the implications of a school accepting a student who was on probation and decided something was off about the place. Something worth investigating.
Digging into Ren's school life could unearth clues about his behaviour, relationships, and history and she knew just to where to look.
Allowing the conversation in the cafe to fade into the background, she opened a new tab and entered an address to the so-called underground forum of Shujin Academy. Most schools had one; a place students thought was secret but was child's play to access for someone of her skill. The secrecy was necessary to hide threads badmouthing students and teachers, arrange parities, or even set-up trades of illicit goods. Sure enough, a thread titled "The criminal transfer student" was tacked on top of the page, bulging with well over a thousand posts. Last updated: one second ago. Its contents ranged from apathetic to enraged, tame to venomous, speculative to judgemental, and so on, with no real consensus achieved. Picking her way through the garbage turned up a useful log of his activities.
That must suck, she thought, imagining what it'd be like to wander Shujin's halls while having her every action watched and reported on the internet. Dangerous individuals could make sinister use of such information, and if it wasn't so useful to her right then, she would have hijacked an admin account and erased the entire thread in an instant. The way they talk about him, you'd think he was some wild beast on a rampage.
His "rampage" involved clashing with his homeroom teacher for being late on his first day, arguing with the coach of the infamous volleyball team (so much so there were almost as much noise surrounding him as there was Ren), flirting with the honour student gymnast who had also just transferred, befriending the resident delinquent and outcast, threatening people with his eyes and – she wasn't sure if she should laugh or gag at this part – defecating on the floor of the men's toilets. Among other things. "Somebody chain this beast up," said one comment, overflowing with righteous fury.
In reality, there was no chaining up required. Ren was already trapped inside a retro-style cafe and as far she knew – and she only knew because Sojiro would have freaked out otherwise – he was able to use the toilet just fine.
She leaned back in her chair and tapped her fingers against the arm rests as she contemplated what she just read. The two interpretations of Ren Amamiya were incompatible with one another. The Ren currently in Leblanc was as normal as they came, so either he was a completely different person at school, or his fellow students unfairly misinterpreted his behaviour as sinister due to their preconceived notions of somebody on probation. For instance, if people really believed the surprisingly popular idea he was arrested for elephant tusk trafficking, they would likely think he was on the verge of going ballistic on anyone who dared look at him funny. Something as simple as him looking into someone else's eyes could be construed as an act of aggression. The human race could be cruel like that.
You're one to talk, a voice reminded her. You were totally panicking when this guy walked into Leblanc.
That was different. Sojiro was involved, was acting suspicious, and ever since Ren's arrival had been coming home later, making her simpler meals for dinner and sounding roughly one year older every time he said something. Her worry was logical.
But when you think about it, are he and I even that different?
She shook her head, hoping the question would fling out of her brain and into the trash heap, and continued browsing the thread for anything useful. When she had her fill, she returned to the chat with Mr. Game X to find a stinking pile of words so toxic the fumes gave her an instant headache.
The headache stuck around into evening as rain lashed her window. She listened to the water droplets splattering against the glass, hoping the steady rhythm would ease the strange force folding her forehead in two. She should have given her eyes a break by now, but her legs had been crossed for so long they were stuck in position and moving them would be a literal pain, so she felt compelled to stay where she was.
Fingers tapping plastic filled the room. She found herself uncomfortably aware of every sound she made. The rustling of her trousers rubbing against the fabric of her chair when she adjusted her sitting position. The hypnotic humming of the computer lulling her into a trance, only for the abrupt activation of the cooling fans to jolt her back to reality and cause her knees to smash against the underside of her wooden desk. Her back went tense as she expected something to happen at any moment. A car sped by the house, its rubber tires peeling off the wet roads and spraying water everywhere. She jumped, head snapping towards the window, remembering there was more traffic whenever it rained and that it was nothing unusual; nothing worth being so surprised about and no reason for her heart to beat so fast.
I wonder what's happening in Leblanc. It was as good a distraction as any. Rain kept the regulars away, so Leblanc should be quiet. On those days, she would sometimes overhear Sojiro talking to himself. He'd be doing inventory on ingredients he needed to restock, or complaining about some customers talking his ear off without buying more food and drink, or muttering a few choice words for the debate programme he kept watching on the TV. He, like most people, tended to do funny things where they thought nobody was watching. Unless you're Ren Amamiya, apparently.
When she tuned in, he and Sojiro were talking.
"You're always studying when it's raining," Sojiro said. "You like the rain?"
"It's soothing," said Ren. "Keeps people away."
"Doesn't it just." Sojiro paused. "Everything all right at school now?"
"As okay as it can be."
"Can't say I didn't warn you."
"I know. But I've a feeling it'll be better soon."
"You better not be scheming something."
"Just a hunch."
"Uh huh. I'm sure I don't need to remind you, but you screwing up would be a real pain for me. Keeping you here is difficult enough as it is," said Sojiro. "If you helped out around here, though..."
He let the idea float, like he was thinking aloud.
"Cleaning up? Doing the dishes?"
"You got it. In exchange, I'll teach you how to make the perfect cup of coffee." Ren must have shown his confusion on his face, as Sojiro elaborated. "You'll be surprised how many people you can impress by blending a good cup. Especially women."
"All right. You've got yourself a deal."
Noise as Ren slipped out the booth and walked over to the counter. Sojiro proceeded to explain the different kinds of coffee beans stored in the jars behind the counter, the impact they had on the taste, and how to use and clean the filters. He stopped now and then to grill Ren on what he just said, but he needn't have bothered; Ren missed nothing. Futaba thought to open notepad and take notes herself, dreaming of making high quality food and beverages instead of relying on instant foods and cans of soft drinks.
How cool would it be to make coffee and curry like Sojiro can? She wouldn't have to wait for him to come and make it for her. She could use the kitchen while he was working to whip up a meal and be satisfied for the rest of the day. All for the small price of speaking to him in person. Yeah, not happening.
It also depended on him being willing to teach her in the first place.
Her kitchen experience was limited to taps, sinks and kettles. The moment pots, pans and beakers came into the equation, she'd be clueless. Anything more complex than pouring a sachet of soy sauce into a pot of steaming instant noodles was a step beyond her. She wouldn't blame Sojiro for telling her to wait in the living room, if it ever came to it.
It occurred to her Sojiro may really want to pass on his culinary knowledge to somebody. Perhaps he was teaching Ren, not so he could focus his energy on something productive, but so he could put the knowledge to use in the future. Sojiro wasn't getting any younger, and the way things were going she was certainly never going to be taking over Leblanc.
He hasn't been speaking to me lately either. Sure, he'd knock on the door and ask if she was okay, and she'd respond via text like normal with some variation of "yes", but that was where things ended. He didn't ask about her day or provide updates on his life. Certainly nothing about Ren living in his attic. As if doing so would be futile. As if I was an afterthought.
The thing with afterthoughts was, when you left them alone, they tended to fade away.
She shook her head, berating herself for being silly. She still lacked too much information, therefore it was too son to conclude Ren was anything other than Sojiro's responsibility being put to work as part of his probation. She would have to keep monitoring the situation, see what developed. Until then, an anime binge sounded good. Something colourful and upbeat, with lots of cute girls in it, that would take her to a different world, just for one night.