Chapter Nine: Peripheral

Akira Kurusu thought of the year he first came to Tokyo as the most important time in his life. Much of what he experienced before felt inconsequential. Though suffering a rocky start, he found all of the things he knew missing in his life. He found a sense of kinship and communion, he found his professional calling. And indeed, as leader of the Phantom Thieves, he found a purpose greater than himself.

But for all the awe-inspiring things he and his friends did, his face before society had to be that of an unassuming, unremarkable teenager. He never truly got the chance to efficiently play the role, as he was still seen as an outsider by most in Shujin. His polite demeanour, calm behaviour, exemplary academic performance; it all failed to quell the whispers that followed in his heels. He eventually found ways to cope with the frustration. And soon, the gossip and the undermining by his peers bothered him none.

But he knew at every moment what he was: an outsider wearing a shabby mask of normalcy. Nobody, save his friends and beloved ones, would let him forget that, here in Tokyo.

And as it turned out, it was much the same when he returned to Kawasaki.

The truth on the night he was arrested was now public knowledge in his hometown, and the news of it spread like wildfire across the streets. Akira Kurusu had been falsely accused. His involvement in that infamous night followed the exercise of solid moral principles. He was innocent all along. On the day of his return, he was having such a merry time with his friends and his love that he failed to notice that the whispers and wary looks would not let go.

Even then, in the land that saw him arrive to the world, he was deemed an outsider - by neighbours, classmates, and teachers alike. His only support came from his parents, his friends, and Makoto. All things considered, he coped well. Yet at the end of the day, the truth could not be denied. He had been two years an outsider.

It was thus such a surprise to find that he no longer was an outsider when he started classes in the Hattori Nutritional College. No whispers, no wary looks followed him as he walked along the hallways, looking for the indicated classroom on his first day. The attention he got from other fellow students was no different than anyone else's. There were no dubious pauses at the mention of his name during roll call, not even a passing remark on ever being seen as a delinquent.

The second day was no different. Even with senses honed by his stint as Joker, he caught no untrusting glance or hushed warning about Akira Kurusu. He remained attentive on the third day for good measure. Only one thing could be said about him: he was rather quiet. But that did not stop other fellow students from approaching. He did not put up any barriers. And for once, it seemed like school could be a place where he could make friends under normal circumstances.

The change was confusing, but pleasant.

For a time.

It was not long until Akira realised the hours meshed together under a dense feeling of sameness. There were a few moments amidst it all that stood out. Perhaps it would be a remark from Boss while the young man worked at LeBlanc after school. Maybe the sight of Morgana chasing "that damned flying bug" again. Futaba pushing Yuuki's buttons while Yusuke studied the peculiar composition of the men working behind the counter. A double date with Makoto, and Ann and Ryuji.

A handful of hours that felt like coming out for air. Smells and tastes, intonations and lingering sensations that memory summoned warm on his skin. But when he plunged back into the haze, his only way to mark down the passage of the days were the plentiful notes he wrote down on the pages. Precise information, personal commentary here and there, a few quotable things that caught his attention. Quirky annotations of a devoted student.

It was his handwriting for sure. That much he could tell. But he did not remember having written any of it.

It was a quiet afternoon in LeBlanc, and the sun was yet to come down. It was the kind of day when one can afford to keep the lighting off; what sunlight pours in from the windows suffices. Boss was occupied instructing Yuuki on coffee types – so far, he had proved a relatively adequate apprentice. In the meantime, Akira poured himself into his notes. Sojiro allowed it, thinking he was studying, and deeming it positive influence from his girlfriend. On any other day, that would have been the case.

The young man passed his hand over a white page, filled from top to bottom with diverse notes. Akira had never trained the habit of writing the date at the beginning of each page, so naturally, that information was missing from this page as well. He felt the way the writing pressed down on the surface, and the stiffness of the paper surrounding the ink. He estimated having written his notes on the first rudimentary ways to preserve meat two days ago. These, and more recent ones, felt different to how his notes felt from high school. It was as if his hand had been tense while writing.

He never used to take notes as meticulously. The transition to college must have encouraged new habits.

"Hey." Sojiro called to him. His voice felt like a distant reverberation.

The next step was more laborious. He would need to re-read everything he wrote to make sure it matched the information that was in his brain. If he were to find anything in there that did not belong, he would need to find a reason for its presence on the page. The prospect did not amuse him; there were other things he would rather be doing, or try to do, but he would rather take care of this sooner than later.

"Hey!" Sojiro called out again. Akira was unaware of the growing annoyance in his voice.

Line by line, thought by thought. The memory of that day dawned on his perception. Professor Nanakase sneezed twice in succession. Yukako-san two seats ahead found that amusing. Norimasa-san was seated next to Akira, and he mumbled something he did not quite understand. He made a note to ask him after class, which he forgot to do.

Akira did not hear the grumble, but he certainly felt the weight of Sojiro's palm smacking the back of his head.

"Damn it, kid. You can study all you want, but you better not forget you're still on the job."

"Sorry, Boss." He closed the notebook. "What did you need of me?"

"I need you to take this kid to the store so he'll learn to place the order for when we run out of fresh produce."

"The quickie?" Akira asked.

"That's the one."

"What's a quickie?" Mishima asked.

Akira internalised his amusement at what Sojiro might have said in that scenario. An imaginary Futaba snickered in the booth for added effect. Somehow, what Boss did say still got an entertained smile out of him.

"Akira will show you."

"Will do, Boss. Let's go, Yuuki."

Walking towards the door, the sun still shone high on the sky. The light dyed the inside of the place orange, even red at one spot near the back. Outside, the afternoon air was cool, making LeBlanc feel somewhat stuffy in comparison. Akira did not notice it until now, but he was sweating.

The young bespectacled man led his friend down the labyrinth of back alleys towards the Super Muramasa market.

"It's a maze in here!" Yuuki said.

"Yeah. Took me a few weeks to find my way around when I first got here."

"Ha. I bet you know the neighbourhood like the palm of your hand by now."

"I'd like to think so. Then again, I'm not very sure this place hasn't changed since the last time I came."

"Lots of things can happen in a year, huh?"

"Yeah, no kidding. You with a hat, it's like you're a different person altogether."

"Oh, come on! You're not gonna give me crap about that too!?"

Akira chuckled. "No comment."

When they got to the super market, Akira placed the order for the so-called 'quickie'. The man at the counter acted at once. Akira explained a 'quickie' as an emergency order of sorts. When the café was close to running out of fresh produce for curry or other dishes, someone had to make a run to the store to get at least a modest batch to last the rest of the day. The clerk would know what to pick, and he only asked to be paid back at the end of the week. What remained back at LeBlanc was used for its staff's consumption, such as breakfast, lunch and dinner.

In spite of the relative obscurity of his business, Sojiro Sakura ran LeBlanc like it was a luxury restaurant. Therefore, he was highly particular on anything and everything that went into what he served. It may be his obsession over apparent minutiae what allowed LeBlanc to maintain a loyal and steady clientele despite the rise of other food and coffee chains.

"Try to memorise the route from the café to the market. I can almost guarantee Boss will have you do this on your own."

"Gotcha." Yuuki nodded. "By the way, why does everyone call him Boss?"

It was not Akira's feet what stopped dead in their tracks, but his thoughts. Only once before he had asked himself the same question, and he came up with no other answer than the man's sole presence. Of all the adults whose authority he challenged, Akira could not see Sojiro Sakura's as one such instance. The young man had some knowledge on his second father's history, but he dared guess it was only the tip of the iceberg.

"I'll let you know when I find out."

The two got back to the café's vicinity a few minutes later. However, they ran into somebody just outside who recognised them. It took Akira and Yuuki a moment to recognise her. The woman almost looked the same age as them, and her frame was somewhat voluptuous even under her casual, hardly-revealing attire. It was her eternally unkempt hair that matched her eyes what pried a name out of the two young men's lips.

"Kawakami-sensei?"

"Well it was about time you two figured it out!" Their former teacher looked unamused.

"Please forgive us. You… uh, look healthier, no! I mean, you look… fresh?" Yuuki juggled clumsily with his words, only fumbling worse as Sadayo Kawakami arched an eyebrow at the young man. To Yuuki's credit, Akira knew he was not mistaken to note Kawakami's change. Quitting her job as a maid lifted a heavy burden off the woman's already tired shoulders.

"Kawakami-san." Akira made the save. "You look in good health."

"Yeah, same." Sadayo nodded humourless. Her face was dry only for a second longer before she cracked a smile. Not caring about the peculiar relation she had with Akira when he was her student, or perhaps because of it, the woman stepped forward to hug Akira.

"It's good to see you." He, in turn, did not expect this but returned the gesture.

"And you look good too, Mishima-kun." Sadayo turned to Yuuki. "Staying busy, I see. Good." She turned back to Akira. "I have a bone to pick with you, though. Why didn't you let me know you moved here?"

"Oh! I…"

"I ran into your girlfriend the other day. She was the one to let me know!"

"Girlfriend?" Yuuki asked.

"Yeah! Remember the student council president from your second year? This rascal and she got together!"

Akira blushed a little, and then went pale at realising this was new information to Mishima. Knowing his curious nature, he could only guess what this meant for his research on the Phantom Thief's experiences.

"Niijima-senpai!?" His voice broke at the end.

"Y-yup." Akira confirmed.

"Niijima-senpai!?" Yuuki repeated. His face reflected the mental images unfolding.

"Hey, it's getting kinda cool out here, and I did come for a cup of coffee, after all." Kawakami took reins of the conversation.

It was a big surprise on its own to run into his former teacher. When walking into the café, Akira's first thought was that another had been in store, waiting for him. But he quickly realised Tae Takemi was a regular herself. Unlike the teacher, the good doctor hardly seemed any different from the last time he saw her. She still wore the same punk-rock style, and she still radiated the same allure. In between a refreshed Kawakami and darkly appealing Takemi, Yuuki Mishima simply did not know where to look or how to stop the colour in his cheeks from rising.

"Took your sweet time, huh?" Boss spoke their way. His eyes shifted immediately towards Sadayo. "Hello there, have a seat wherever you like." There was a vague tone and look of recognition in the man's face.

"Hi there. Whoa, haven't been here in a while." Sadayo seated herself at the counter, two stools away from Tae. "I'm a coffee-amateur. What do you recommend?"

"That sound familiar to you?" Sojiro smiled at Tae.

"That's how you got me hooked, if I recall correctly." The doctor smiled with irony.

"Harsh." Boss turned to Sadayo. "Well, Miss. Too much variety here to recommend only one thing. I'll fix you a good cup."

"That does sound familiar." Takemi grinned.

Boss uttered a curt chuckle in reply.

"Alright, good timing you two. It's time to work." Sojiro pointed a thumb behind him.

The brewing and serving was muscle memory to Akira by now. But as usual, it was always the owner who brewed the cup for any and all first-comers. It fell to the two young men to start preparing the curry, which Tae Takemi had a particular soft spot for. Surely, Boss anticipated getting Sadayo to fall in love with it as well. True to his hunch, the young teacher had been in LeBlanc many times before, but never actually as a customer.

A few minutes later, Yuuki Mishima got an answer to the mystery behind Sojiro Sakura's nom de guerre. And much like Akira, it was not something he could put into words. Without wasting breath or words, Boss engaged Sadayo in lively conversation. It was all small talk, but it carried promise of depth, and a guarantee for a second cup of coffee. Even Tae Takemi, who knew of the man's ways was actively partaking of the chat. In the meantime, Akira and Yuuki stood awkwardly in the kitchen's background.

"It's almost like he's a Phantom Thief himself." Yuuki murmured to Akira, who met his comment with a chuckle.

"Maybe if you get good at coffee, he will teach you his ways."

"You think so?" A spike of enthusiasm in Mishima's voice.

"Fat chance of that." Akira knew the true pulse behind Sojiro Sakura's persona. Yuuki's comparison was more accurate than he could know.

"You two." Tae called out. "It's starting to annoy me seeing you two like props over there. Come and have a cup."

"Hey now, don't spoil them too much." Boss joked.

"Yeah, I agree on that. I was their teacher." Sadayo played along.

"I'd say they've earned it. Come, sit next to me, friendo. Time for catching up." Tae slapped the seat on the stool next to her.

Akira was more than pleased to join them. While he did want to catch up, he was starting to feel suffocated in the stuffy air of the kitchen. It was almost as if the afternoon sun still shone high in there. Boss served two cups for Akira and Yuuki. While they partook of the conversation, the former took this moment as another lesson for his budding career as a barista. It did not suffice to simply brew a cup and be done with it. He needed to be involved. While he may not yet wield Boss' uncanny magnetism, he would soon need to think of the café as an extension of himself, or his self as part of the café.

The young man learned that, despite being liberated from the "Plague" moniker, Tae Takemi indulged her academic peers only sporadically. The prospect of joining a big medical institution or a hospital was appealing to an extent. But her heart, her calling belonged to the clinic. Much like Boss, she also desired to be closely involved with her business: the welfare of her patients. She went on to admit that if she ever got bored, she would probably volunteer to help people in rural communities, or perhaps abroad.

"Punk Rock Médecins Sans Frontières?" Akira joked.

"Don't get cute, my former Guinea Pig." Tae mock-slapped his forehead. A strange look flashed over her face for a moment. "But… yeah, something like… that."

"You should go for it. Share your skills with the world." The young man continued in good cheer, but for some reason, Takemi's mood was noticeably darker.

A few minutes later, Akira excused himself and went outside for a moment. The sensation of steamy air lingered on his skin and around the air that went into his nostrils. It even seemed like his glasses had fogged up from the heat. He needed to escape the ghost of an afternoon sun that had long set; he needed fresh air. There was no wind out in the alleys of Yongen-jaya, but the air was still cool and crisp. He breathed in and out, loud and blissful.

It did not seem like Boss really needed an extra pair of hands at the moment, and closing time was drawing near anyway. So, Akira decided to take a brief walk a few minutes. As the lonely figure stepped into tight, familiar passageways, his thoughts returned to the days past. In between confused meditations, a thought rose shyly. If even Makoto had initially struggled with the transition from high school to university, could this experience actually be commonplace?

A headache every now and then, a sense of being extracted from the present moment. It might all be just him overthinking, he suggested to himself. It has only been a few days, after all.

And it has only been two weeks since the last cigarette.

"Why not?" Akira said to himself. He searched in his jeans' pocket for the lean packet and the box of matches, both still rather full. For safety's sake, he walked a few more steps further into a dead end nearby, further away from the café. The friction of the match produced a sound he rather liked, the reason for which he favoured matches over a lighter. And then, with care and discretion, he took two short puffs to get a soft taste of the smoke. He held it in for a few seconds while his eyes wandered to the night sky, searching for stars.

He let it out. The sound of his breath mingled with the projected smoke seemed to continue past the process, and before he could think to suspect, a peculiar feeling took hold of him.

The dead end was in front of Akira's eyes; a wall of wooden boards, tightly assembled, and a few trees beyond. But for some reason, he did not know what exactly lay at his back. Even without wind, he felt as if the air behind him reached further and further without meeting anything at all – no walls, no plants or buildings. The sound that was once his exhalation turned into something else, a flowing sound, perennial but quiet, almost whisper-like. Like swaying fabric, like a gentle river of velvet.

The cigarette was slowly turning into a frail column of ash, untouched, pending from between his middle and index fingers. But Akira had no apprehension of this, or the wooden-board dead end with the trees on the other side. His world was reduced to a veil that lay behind him, moving with the air, brushing at his back like a teasing lover. The darkest, strongest colour from the afternoon sun returned, transformed into a red velvet curtain, parted in the middle, calling for him to turn and look.

He did not. As his breath became shaky and nervous, all he could think of was the curtain and what great unknown lay on the other side. A mystery. But the animal at the core of the human soul urged him with an instinctive, rudimentary message.

DO NOT TURN AROUND.

It was not mere curiosity what compelled him, however.

A sound, flowing along the stirring velvet. He knew, as it reached his ears, that it had gone on for longer than he started to hear it. A river of its own, borne out of a throat.

A scream of anguish, pain, horror. Running out of breath, the voice could only get enough air to plead, and break down into tortured sobbing.

Bad sounds. Akira was hearing the product of the evil that men do: the vile murder of a soul.

Beneath the fathomless suffering, something about the voice rang familiar in his ears, but he could not place it, not even as it started calling his name.

"Akira… Akira… Akira… Akira… Akira…"

DO NOT TURN AROUND.

"Akira… Akira…"

His body was catatonic, trembling in its inability to break free. Pulse rising. Teeth clenched so hard they might break. A scream of his own was birthing but could not be let out.

"Akira!" Tae's voice brought him back. The woman stood behind him, piercing disapproving holes into the back of his head.

Liberated from the moment, the young man turned around to see Takemi standing behind him.

"Tae. I'm sorry. I just…"

"Quiet." Her tone brooked no argument.

Akira complied, ashamed and fearful, but not knowing why.

Tae sighed a brief pause like she was choosing her words carefully.

"Look. Do you remember what I told you about myself, when I was little?"

"You told me you got sick often." Akira's response delayed a little.

"Yes. Still, when I was your age, despite my history, I still had to work and study, just like you are now. I can understand how stress can heap early, and how it can affect your health. It's a more serious issue than many people think. Now, I'm going to ask you something, and I expect you to be honest… and you know I'll see through the bullshit if you lie… Has Boss been working you too hard?"

Akira blinked in confusion, not expecting Tae to ask himself something like this.

"No, not really."

Tae leaned in closer. Her eyes were like syringes, clinical and unblinking – a different kind of inquisitiveness than he has known from the Niijima sisters – terrifying in its own right.

"Okay. I'll believe you." She raised her hand towards Akira's forehead, appearing to smack him again, but it lingered against the skin. "You need to take it easy. School and work are no joke, but you'll need to find a way to make it work without it taxing on you."

"Um, I don't think it's been that stressful for me."

"Bullshit. Do you know how I know you're bullshitting me?"

The young man shook his head.

"Because you have a fever, and I'm willing to bet you've had it earlier too."

Akira did not know what to say.

"And that would explain… the other thing." She nodded towards his fingers.

A tone of embarrassment fell over Akira's face when he realised what she meant. His lips moved in an attempt to explain himself, but Takemi brushed him off.

"Just keep it easy. All of it." The doctor suddenly sounded very tired. "I'm going back to the café. You coming?"

"Yeah…"

"Good."

"Tae?" The doctor stopped to hear him. "Please, don't tell Boss."

She guessed it was more than one thing he meant.

"Don't give me a reason to." Tae Takemi said without humour.