Chapter Four: Apprenticeship
No matter how he spun the tale, Sojiro Sakura knew he should hardly be surprised by now. There were two young people in his life, and though neither was biological kin to him, he was a father to both. His daughter, once upon a time a doom-bound recluse, Futaba Sakura. His son, a young man who lived under his care for a year, Akira Kurusu. As fate or chance would have it, they both turned out to be Phantom Thieves, the strangeness of which Sojiro experienced by proxy, as their headquarters turned out to be the attic of his café. It certainly was not the type of after-school activity he pictured the young man doing, let alone Futaba.
Aside from that, Sojiro Sakura's younger years were the kind of life authors imagine when writing their novels. His nickname. "Boss", was well earned. Through intrigue in obscure sectors of the government, encounters with two mafias from different countries, long travels that inspired his fascination for coffee, and a love that never waned despite never being reciprocated, the lines on his face whispered the stories his tongue would not. It was something Akira's father could attest to, having met him through troubled and unlikely circumstances.
Indeed, Sojiro "Boss" Sakura had seen much in his life – the mundane, the extraordinary, and things in between. And yet, for all that experience, he could not help but stare in confusion at the young man who walked into the café that day. He could tell he was no mere customer just from the way he approached the counter: his pace was resolute, but brief fidgeting motions about his hands betrayed insecurity. He did not come in to drink coffee or have curry; he came to talk to Boss.
"Good day, Sir." The young man with short black hair bowed his side of the counter, almost smacking his head on its surface. "My name is Yuuki Mishima. I am a friend of Kurusu-san."
Sojiro stared, unimpressed by his words, even far less so by the young man's appearance. He wore dark jeans, loafers, a long-sleeved olive shirt, and a brown vest – nothing too offensive, and Sojiro would not boast himself knowledgeable on the current styles. But there was an item that did not fit in Mishima's getup. It did not clash with the rest, it simply did not belong to his presence. A grey trilby hat.
"He's not here today." Boss said with a gruff voice.
"Actually, Sir. I've come to talk to you. Umm… Akira has told me about you."
"Has he now?" Sojiro's eyes looked past the flesh, observing the boy as a person. Boss often saw something of himself in Akira, which was an accurate assessment. Though he may not have known then, Sojiro and Akira were both extraordinarily good judges of character. Thus, the things Akira may have suspected when meeting Yuuki were obvious to Sojiro. "Go on."
"Um, well… he says you educated him in the art of coffee and curry…"
"Hah, 'educated'. He's not wrong there." Boss noted Mishima's election in vocabulary. It reminded him of someone he knew years past; his name escaped him, but he had a word to encapsulate all that he was. A flatterer. But he was not sure this young man was indeed a flatterer. He obviously came here for a reason. He may as well let him speak his mind before sending him off with a piece of advice that would last him a lifetime.
"Yeah. He described you as Boss, Sakura-san."
"People call me that, son."
"Right… er, Boss-san. I came here because…"
"Let me stop you right there, kid." Sojiro rubbed his eyelids with the tips of his fingers, nursing the headache that increased the longer he looked at the young man. "You're obviously not here for a coffee…"
"Sir, I..." Yuuki looked flustered.
"Grown-up talking." He noticed the young man's dejected look. "I'll let you finish. But first… take that thing off." He pointed at the trilby Yuuki so liberally wore.
"M-my hat, you mean, Boss-san?" Yuuki looked confused.
"It's just 'Boss'. And yeah, your hat. Take that off. You've nowhere near the poise to wear a hat like that, let alone indoors. Only two people can do that and get away with it. Is your name Sojiro Sakura, or Minoru Suzuki?"
"No, Boss-s… I mean, Boss." Yuuki hastened to obey.
"Good. Clothes don't make the man. Clothes are just an extension of the man." Sojiro meant to make himself a cup of altura after imparting a bit of wisdom the young man should heed. "Hey, hey. What's that grin for?" He asked, unamused at the sight of the young man, whose eyes lit like firecrackers.
"Boss! I'm here to request that you teach me like you taught Akira-san!" He bowed again, this time certainly knocking his head on the counter with a loud thud. His motion as his head rose back up betrayed no sign of pain, but his face did not have as much composure.
Sojiro sighed in frustration as he looked at the dutifully polished surface on the counter. Fortunately, there was no Mishima face-mark left behind.
"Did the kid put you up to this?"
"No, Boss. I come here of my own volition and will." An unexpected flash of conviction in Mishima's voice. "I wish to learn how to brew good coffee and make good curry."
"What for? Are you looking to get into the restaurant business? There are schools for that, kid."
"That's… not what I'm planning, Boss." Yuuki looked down, as If reflecting on the choices that led him here. He had a lot to say, but the hierarchy to his ideas, which he had carefully built before coming was crumbling down fast. And still, if we could put it all down in a clear, succinct, definite way – would that suffice for Sojiro Sakura to accept? Yuuki realised it too late; the silence was drawing longer, and the look in Boss' eyes was not easing down.
A sudden flashback of torment, of days under the yoke of abuse, contained in a frightful second. It has been longer than a year since he last saw, heard, or even thought about him. But the shadow of one Suguru Kamoshida manifested then by the notion of a long, unblinking gaze. There were two sides to Kamoshida; one kind of look, and one type of victim for each. Most of the students at Shujin were a victim to the P.E. teacher, though they did not realise it. Them he would regard with a smug impunity disguised as confidence. The rest, the unlucky few like Yuuki himself, and Shiho Suzui, knew the other Kamoshida, the one with the furious, lusting, hateful eyes.
The very way he looked at them was a silent foreword to his sinister designs. He would not blink, not even as the veins on his face pulsed thick and his mouth twisted into a crooked grin. Those eyes, they meant to break his prey before he even laid a finger on them.
Yuuki knew he got off easy. But Shiho, on the other hand… Before the Phantom Thieves began their work, the man and his abuses were untouchable, protected even by the Principal's wish to elevate the school's prestige. Kobayakawa seemed more than content with letting Kamoshida have his way - through violence and base lust - if quiet complicity was the price to pay. That all changed when the infamous delinquent transfer student arrived at Shujin. Everybody looked down on the young man, deeming him a lost cause, a dangerous outcast. Little did they know, Akira Kurusu was in fact the herald to joyous news: Kamoshida's reign of hedonism was at its end.
Even now, the fact of the Phantom Thieves' involvement was at the core of Mishima's path, including his being here today. Boss' eyes still looked at him unyielding, but his were not Kamoshida's eyes. Yuuki breathed deep and prepared his response.
"I…"
"Look, kid. I don't have all day. Tell you what – I'll fix you a cup, on the house." He pointed at one of the empty booths. "Go sit. You'll have your coffee, and think on what you want to say."
"B-but… thank you, Boss." Mishima felt calmer, more secure about himself and the situation.
Four minutes later, Mishima was looking at his own reflection in the black mirror of his coffee. His hair looked rather messy by the way he wore and removed his hat, but it felt more fitting than an hour ago. He had not even planned it as part of the process, but he already learned something. He still had much to learn. The story he wanted to tell did not depend only on the events themselves, or how he presented them, but on his individual spirit as a creator and storyteller.
His reason was esoteric. The dream of writing and directing a documentary on the Phantom Thieves was still very much alive. But having been himself a beneficiary of their justice, and their collaborator, he could not simply present a formalist narrative of events. He had to acknowledge the emotional dimension and the psycho-social. He had to think in terms of faith, love, and hope, words that shattered any pretension of cold pragmatism. Yuuki Mishima needed to understand even the simplest of things, even if for security's sake he would not actually talk about them in film.
Akira Kurusu was his best friend. And Yuuki knew he gave him no shortage of trouble during the year they met. Even now, he wanted to do him justice – to understand how he perceived the world, wounded, distorted in strife and injustice, from a humble place behind the café's counter. But if he told Sojiro Sakura all of this, would he understand this as Yuuki did? Therein lies the root of his worry.
He took another sip. Yuuki was a complete neophyte when it came to coffee; blends, grains, it was all the same to him – a dark, bitter beverage he rarely drank for the joy of it. But the cup Boss fixed him was different. The bitterness was there, but so was a smooth, not-quite-sweet, chocolate-y taste. It washed over his palate, and lingered wanting until the next sip. Mishima did not want it to get cold, but he also would not drink it hastily. He needed all the time he was afforded.
One more time. He went over his train of thought, one idea at a time on a long chain of rationale, peppered with sentiment. Then, a loud voice derailed it all in an instant. A bespectacled flash of orange came through the café's door, walking about like this were her home – which in many ways, indeed was. He knew her. It was a strange chance meeting at the diner. Akira was there as her companion, or a guide of sorts. He left that day with a lasting, and very awkward impression of the girl. It was like she spoke an entirely different conversation, no matter how accurately Yuuki made sense of her words.
Aside from that odd experience, all he knew about her was her alter-ego: Oracle from the Phantom Thieves.
"Sojiro! Curry! Pronto!" She called out loud, lacking every bit of the decorum Mishima used.
The man turned to regard his daughter. Yuuki could see the weary but affectionate look in his eyes. The relation became apparent.
"Hungry already? Didn't Niijima-san tell you to have fruit if you needed something in between meals?"
"Yup. Both of them did."
"So?"
"It's pricey."
"Not talking about melon, Futaba."
"It's bland."
Sojiro sighed, rubbing his eyelids like he did a moment ago.
"It'll still be a while. Go sit down."
Futaba groaned loud and irritated.
"Fine. I'll get out of your hair until then… like so." Her voice shrank to a mocking whisper as her arms assumed a position commonly known as 'dabbing'. She turned around, and in the very precise moment her eyes noticed Mishima, her expression lost all of its usual mischievous smugness. Yuuki could not tell whether her eyes betrayed confusion or embarrassment.
With her right arm still covering the lower portion of her face, her eyes squinted as if searching for some knowledge stashed away in old memories. Her eyes grew wide with a dawn of recognition.
"You're the protagonist!"
"Y-yeah!" Yuuki said, with a tone that sounded more enthusiastic than he would have liked. The vivid memory of that meeting over a year ago smacked him with the realisation that he still had no idea what she meant back then.
"You two know each other?" Sojiro asked with apparently minimal concern.
"This guy is the protagonist. He hangs out with Akira." Futaba finally put her arms down.
"So I hear." Sojiro opened the refrigerator's door, scanning for vegetables for the curry.
"Why is he here?" Futaba asked. Though her tone sounded more infantile than deliberately rude, her words caught the attention of her father, who looked reprimanding. She had no way of telling Mishima was not an actual customer. Though inconsiderate, her assessment was accurate.
"He wants me to teach him how to make coffee and curry."
Her back was turned to Mishima, yet her silence hinted at her expression, mouth agape, eyes wide open from the revelation.
"Are you gonna?" Mishima could hear disapproval in her voice.
"Haven't decided yet. Falls to him to convince me." Boss responded nonchalantly.
Yuuki felt he should politely say something if at least to remind them he was there.
"Really, Sojiro? Really?" Her disapproval was starting to become more and more evident. Strange as she was, Mishima sensed she had a valid reason to disagree to the prospect, and judging by Boss' mood about the whole thing, he was not seeing it from her perspective. Frustrated, Futaba climbed the stairs to the attic, where Akira lived.
But truly, would it be so bad if Boss were to accept? And if he did accept, Yuuki would make sure to prevent or redeem for any harm Futaba anticipated. But no – not yet. He was thinking far ahead of himself. He had to convince Boss, as well as Oracle now. But then again, that was not necessarily a bad thing. After all, considering she also had been a Phantom Thief, she would possibly understand his motivations, and he may also count on Akira vouching for him, but that was a resource Mishima would rather not try.
He was, after all, resolute to carry his own weight. And never again use a friend's name to his own benefit.
Another sip. The cup was on the threshold of cooling down, but the taste remained rich. Sojiro Sakura was on the money. This cup of coffee certainly helped, but Yuuki was not actually sure if it was the beverage itself what inspired this level of introspection… or if it was the fact that Boss took care to brew the coffee and serve it. So much goes into film-making, far beyond the mechanical processes. A film made from heart, sincerity, and careful eye for detail resulted in the film reaching out to the viewer, and touching. Could it not be the same for a process such as coffee-making?
Yuuki Mishima smiled at the thought. Regardless of the day's outcome, he already had a possible second lesson from Sojiro 'Boss' Sakura. He could try and wait on a third, but the words brewing in his mind risked overstaying their place in his tongue. He had it – his argument, the proper structure to his motives. One more sip, and Mishima stood up; he approached the counter with twofold the security he had at the start of the day.
"Boss. I have an objective. I've had it for longer than a year. I have the components to make it a reality, but I'm lacking one thing. Proper understanding." Yuuki Mishima went ahead to explain his motives, only speaking openly about his interest in comprehending Akira's position as a beholder to certain events. As he went on, Sojiro's expression gave hints of knowing. One interjection on his part revealed that he was indeed very aware that Akira and Futaba were both Phantom Thieves. He may or may not be seeing the value Mishima placed on this apprenticeship, but he seemed less ready to turn him down.
"You want it that bad, eh kid?" Sojiro shook his head.
"I do, Boss."
"One fuckup, and it's over. Got it?"
"Really, Sojiro? Really?" Futaba said again at Mishima's back. She was sitting at the top of the stairs, legs and hair dangling in the air. Yuuki could almost hear her rolling her eyes back.
"I promise I won't make any trouble, Futaba-chan." Yuuki bowed in her direction.
"Ugh, fine. I guess I can't stand in the way of the protagonist's questline." She turned to her dad. "You're not gonna pay him, are you, Sojiro?"
"Hell no." Boss said with not the slightest humour. "Now, kid. I gave the kid no room to mess up. I'm giving you even less than what he got."
"Understood, Boss."
"Come tomorrow at eight. You're a minute late, the deal's off. You don't bring an apron with you, the deal's off." Sojiro Sakura was starting to look like a drill instructor already. "You bring that hat, the deal's off. I'll be thinking of more things, don't worry about that."
"Yes, Boss."
"Good." Boss turned back towards the refrigerator. "Now, you're gonna stay for your first lesson. You're gonna eat this curry. And you'll know why I won't be having any goofing off."
