Amimya Ren let the cafe door slam closed behind him. The entry bell's protracted ring seemed hollow in the vacant store.
"You're home early," Sojiro quipped. He didn't take his eyes off from the plates he was drying.
"The lawyers couldn't reach a deal," he answered, delivering the disappointing news with an air of indifference. To which Sojiro shrugged, sighing as if every tired bone in his body disapproved with him. Ren could tell that the older man wanted to breach even more of the subject, but he instead feigned an absent-minded look that said he was much too tired, much too spacey to talk about his parents and probationary status. So silence followed, much to Ren's satisfaction.
He then paused before the counter, scanning the empty booths. "Business is going well," he remarked loudly. The aloof teen adjusted his glasses with the point of his finger, slightly shifting his shoulder to let his posture droop in a casual manner.
"Got any change from the taxi?"
Ren shook his head. "They raised the fare."
"Bastards."
Sojiro put the plate he was drying down. The aged barista took a glance at the scrawny lad before him, suddenly remembering the hour and circumstances of the day. "You should sit down. I'll fix you dinner."
"Un," Ren mumbled before grabbing a seat. He threw his school bag on a nearby chair. It was dripping wet from the rain, but neither men seemed to mind the mess it made.
In the background, the TV featured an emotionless anchor reciting facts and details. The specific times, places, and people escaped Ren's wandering attention. All he heard was the white noise emanating from the junky TV and the pitter patter of rain on the shingles. He would have normally found those sounds soothing, but there was a deafening quality to its sustained drone. It pricked at his ears, fighting to be heard.
"I saw a girl at the train station today," he announced out of the blue. Ren was normally not the type to start conversations. Ice breakers weren't exactly his forte, but something about the TV and its droning pointed to the strange encounter he had much earlier in the day. He had an unshakeable feeling that he should've known her somehow. Not that he believed that they had ever met, but his gut told him he had forgotten something important. It didn't help that his mind was lost in a fog almost the entire day.
"Finally showing interest in girls?" the old geezer asked, not without a sly grin on his face. He quietly stirred a ladle over a big pot. From where Ren sat, the fragrant aroma of golden curry was filling the small and cramped kitchen. It was homely and familiar, especially to one as homeless and unfamiliar as Ren. Something about it coaxed him into a sense of comfort, enough to let himself acknowledge that he had been hungry, after all. He needed to sit down and have some dinner.
"Yes, I met the one," Ren deadpanned. He didn't quite like how pushy Sojiro was about making Ren into some debonair bachelor, but it was endearing enough to warrant an irreverent response.
"Atta boy," Sojiro said with a chuckle.
Ren's eyes quickly shifted back to the TV, as if it was all he needed to hash up an entirely different subject. "It was weird. She was the only one there."
His glasses reflected the bright blue background of the newsroom. Large characters in bold white highlighted in red flashed across the screen. Ren read the captions, but the meaning didn't quite hold.
Homicide in Kuromachi. Victim Female High School Student. Suspect remains at large.
"You must have met Nijima-san's sister," Sojiro piped up. "She was supposed to arrive earlier today."
Ren didn't follow up on Sojiro's answer. He had his attention on the TV. Censored images floated on the screen, and a picture of his school - Shujin Academy - flashed before the segment transitioned to an interview with a police officer.
"So far no possible suspects. We are questioning the host family at the moment. Please give them privacy during this sensitive time."
"Was she cute at least?" Sojiro asked.
Ren knew he meant well, but something about the teasing question felt bitter. "I hope she's okay," he muttered, failing to distinguish between the words of Sojiro and that of the monotone anchor.
"Oh yeah, which reminds me…" The old barista left his ladle to glide in the swirl of curry. He ambled back towards the counter and handed a ready cup of coffee to his ward. "Nijima-san cancelled dinner. Apparently her sister isn't feeling well."
Ren tried to recall what this younger sister looked like in the train station. All he remembered was that she was a bit airy and had a cute chibi-looking pencil case. "Are we still carpooling?"
Sojiro nudged his shoulder and, like his ward, redirected his attention to the TV. "Nijima-san said she'd text me sometime tonight."
The two men paused. Nothing but the slight whistle of a rice cooker filled the room. Somehow, Ren heard it more than he did the TV.
"A homicide huh," the old man puzzled audibly as he pulled a cigarette out from his back pocket. Ren heard the harsh metallic flick of a lighter, and a small ember shone from his guardian's hand. "What's the world coming to these days…"
The teen cupped the mug of coffee in between his hands. Strangely, the ceramic already felt cold.
"Did you know the girl?"
Ren shook his head. "She was in a different class."
The two fell into another bout of silence. Neither of them knew what to do or what to say. For his part, Ren felt a little lost in limbo, as if he was offensively too alive, too aloof when he should have been mourning.
"Things like this never happen here," Sojira said, shaking his head. He breathed a long inhalation, and the ember of his cigarette glowed. "In all my fifty years," he sighed, trailing off with what was unspeakable.
Somehow, Ren couldn't stop thinking about the younger Nijima sister, who looked confused and flustered as she stumbled into their quiet little village. It had been the first time - in quite a long time - that someone didn't recoil upon seeing him; or worse, retreat in harsh whispers. Granted, this newcomer had no reason to judge him beforehand. Surely the gossip hadn't reached the Nijima household in much the same way as it swept the rest of Shujin. He wondered if she too heard of the other more macabre news just as she arrived; or if it bothered her at all. Looking back at the TV, the frizzy-haired teen wondered why indeed it would. She was a stranger who knew no one.
"You should get some sleep soon as you're done with this." Sojiro came with a plate full of rice and curry, slamming it down the counter in front of Ren. "You got a big day tomorrow."
Ren picked up his fork. The aroma was there. The appetizing golden sheen of the sauce. The steam rose tantalizingly from the rice. But he couldn't quite stomach it. Ren fiddled with the chopped potatoes in his meal, rolling it around and mixing it up to appear busy
"Whoever it is, the perp is clearly a sick and demented individual. I mean… we could hardly use facial identification after what he did. Truly a sick and monstrous criminal."
Criminal. The word echoed in Ren's mind.
Sojiro resumed the mundane task of drying dishes. He was busying himself away from the disheartening news.
Is that what I am?
Ren swirled the fork around his plate. Lifting rice over meat, meat over sauce until it became a heady mix of things.
The label "criminal" was now something he shared with a murderer.
A distant memory played in Ren's head. A cry for help. A man with a deathly glower. He wondered if poor Elizabeth Lavenza also cried for help, just like when that woman called out to him all those months ago.