AN: In which Kaminari discovers what it takes to make people smile, Jirou ponders on the beauty of the past and Shouto acknowledges Momo is special.
Hello!
I'm not dead and I'm here to bring you more A Cup of Magic and more music recs! In order, the musical pieces here were:
1. Hail Rain or Sunshine (the Script)
2. Luck - American Authors
3. Pride - American Authors
4. Go Big or Go Home - American Authors
5. Rock the World - The Script
6. Fluorescent Adolescent - Arctic Monkeys
7. Morgenstimmung - Edvard Grieg
Enjoy!
Chapter 11. Neverland and Unnamed Feelings
It's the rainy season alright, Kaminari notices as he drapes the apron over his hoodie, splotched with dots of more intense yellow where his umbrella couldn't prevent the rain from whipping him mercilessly. Even so, he can't bring himself to feel gloomy - not after his fateful encounter from yesterday - and he blasts upbeat songs of Fun through the cafe, singing along to the lyrics.
Kirishima isn't here yet, so Kaminari goes about what he was taught is the "morning routine" by himself. Granted, without Kirishima's ripped body, it takes him twice as long to bring in the coffee and milk and stock them into the neatly labeled cupboards, but Sato rewards him with fresh brownies, steaming hot right out of the oven, which go down incredibly well with the warm cup of milk Sugarman places right under his nose.
"This tastes so good!" Kaminari says as he licks away the milk whiskers. It was too early for him to realize how hungry he was when he left his dorm, but now that the mouth-watering smell wafts into his nose, luring him into the kitchen, he notices just how loud his stomach was actually grumbling.
Apparently, Sugarman takes note of this as well, because he cuts another slice for the new employee. Kaminari doesn't wait for approval to eat it before gulping half of his brownie down in one swift bite. Sugarman places an apple next to the plate where only black crumbles reside - a reminder of a soldier fallen in a war with Kaminari's mouth and very eager stomach - it was a blitzkrieg, really.
"You should maintain a healthy lifestyle," Sugarman notes, pointing to the apple and ushering Kaminari to eat his fruit as if he's a picky child. "Also, the reason that tasted so good is because the milk wasn't bought from the supermarket, but brought from the village by my parents."
Kaminari's mouth shapes into an O, and he's about to ask if Sato actually moved into the city just to become a baker when the door swings open and Ashido runs in, gasping as if she's out of air and resting her hands on her knees.
"Sorry guys!" she says, still panting when Kaminari jumps over the counter to take her umbrella. She's drenched from head to toe, her stockings covered in mud and her shorts are dripping as if they were freshly taken out of the washing machine. Her hair isn't much better off, frizzy and curling even worse than usual due to the high humidity, sticking out in all the wrong places.
"What happened?" Sato asks as he hands her a towel, which the girl gratefully takes and rubs over her hair. The static makes it even more of a mess than before, it that's possible, but Kaminari is much more concerned with the way her body trembles.
"Mina?" Sato gently inquires agai, prodding her to peel off the dripping jacket and offering her his. It's at least three sizes too big, and Ashido is engulfed by it, swallowed whole except for the head of messy pink bangs that pokes out of the fluffy collar, but she doesn't seem bothered as she slumps down on a stool by the counter.
"Jerks should be banned from driving is what happened," she huffs, gratefully curling her fingers around the rim of the milk mug Kaminari offers her. Much unlike him, she doesn't bother wiping off the whiskers after greedily chucking down the warm beverage, but she does sound less angry when she says, "The driving licence should have a section reserved for jerkness levels."
Kaminari opens his mouth to interrupt her, because she is honestly making no sense, but Sugarman's hand on his shoulder stops him, and the look in his eyes tell him is better to let Ashido pour out her soul.
"So I woke up at insane o'clock 'cause Kirishima has his Physical Examination today, and I'm an amazing friend and promised to fill in for him at work, right?" The men nodded under her look, dripping with annoyance. "So there I was, already running late because it's the rainy season and of course the trains have to be overly crowded and delayed, but could my luck stop there? Noooo," she draws out, slapping her hands on the counter and making Kaminari jerk at the loud sound. "This asshole just has to drive past me, and splash not a wave, but a taifoon of muddy water on me, and then speed up ahead as if it was a hit and run!"
She shoots up for dramatic effect and sighs deeply as she lets herself fall back down. "That felt so good!" she exhales, letting her head drop on the counter, the anger thawing out of her as Sugarman and Kaminari each pat one of her shoulders, frustration replaced by mellow words.
"Got it all out of your system?" Sugarman chuckles, rubbing the towel on her hair one more time for good measure as she lets out another sigh.
It's a very sudden change of mood, but Kaminari guesses he still has to become acquainted with the quirks of everyone at the coffee shop, and can't help the grin that blooms on his face as he says, "I know exactly what you need."
Ashido perks up when the music in the shop changes, and with it, so does the gloomy atmosphere that tiptoed in behind Ashido. She blinks as Kaminari sings along to the first verse, grabbing the mop to erase the muddy trail the pink haired left behind and, with it, the memory of her bad day.
Kaminari can't keep the smile out of his voice when she jumps down the stool and shrugs the coat off, walking behind the counter and tying the apron over her waist just as the lyrics sing Can we start this shift? She even draws a smile when he clicks his heels, and salutes Sato as he retreats to the kitchens.
When the refrain kicks in, Ashido twirls in the lockers' room and emerges with the plan for today's table numbering, stomping her feet to the beat as she pins it to the wall. Kaminari is clapping along to Yeah, we're all living the good life/ Whether it's hail rain or it's sunshine, and he breaks into a beam when Ashido claps along and picks up the milk cartoons, helping him store them away.
The two of them empty the box by the time the refrain picks up again, and when the Come on! Blasts through the speakers, Kaminari takes her hand and spins her around, clapping along to the beat. A laugh bubbles out of Ashido as she skids into the kitchen and makes Sato spin around with her, stealing two cupcakes in the process and sharing her treasure with Kaminari.
They finish off the song with a bam, finger gunning each other at the last hey, and Sugarman breaks into a heartfelt laugh when they wink at him. Ashido herself is beaming, a wide grin that makes it seem her stockings are sparkling clean instead of wet and dribbling with specks of mud, and when she breathes, "That was awesome! Play it again!" Kaminari feels like he found it.
He found the secret behind the magic of making people smile.
Jirou hates the rain - it makes her hair frizzy and her hands freeze on the handle of her umbrella, but the worst of it is actually in the way stormy weather makes people huddle inside, thus leading to overcrowded places, thus making Jirou feel like she's suffocating.
The irony is, she actually feels oddly comfortable getting lost among people, going unnoticed in the mass that swallows her whole, being just one thread in an intricate pattern that waves billions of threads together. What she hates is being the most colourful thread and feeling everyone's judging eyes on her.
"Are you sure?" Momo asks, casting a sideways glance at Jirou as they tiptoe their way through the maze of puddles the streets have become. She's trying not to sound worried, but Jirou has known her best friends for years, and she can read the tick in the line of her jaw.
"Yeah," she breathes. She's not lying per se - she does need to practice, and having the customers in the cafe cock they heads at her questioningly is far better than having all the other students whisper at every tiny mess up. The lingering doubt in Momo's eyes tells her that's not all her friend frets.
Her sharp inhale is muted by the pouring rain. "I can't avoid him forever. I'm an adult, and my feelings for him are in the past." Momo doesn't say anything else as she jumps over a puddle and pushes the door to the coffee shop open, but Jirou knows her words weren't persuasive enough to even convince her of their truth.
Jirou is greeted by the smell of freshly grounded coffee and baked dough and the chatter of customers. Her ears immediately pick up on the song - it's American Authors, and she knows only one person who would blast Luck in a cafe and hum along.
Her eyes are drawn to the electric smile first, and she feels her heart lurch in her chest when she dares meet the sunny eyes of its owner. She told Momo she used to have a crush on him in high school, but that she's dated and broke up since, realizing her only true love is her guitar. But when his eyes catch hers and the golden rim sparkles like he just discovered a treasure, when his smile morphs into a mirror of fondness and pins her heels to the floor before returning his attention to his customer, she wonders if she's actually a huge liar.
She doesn't know when she suddenly got at the front of the line. All she knows is that his face is much closer than she was prepared for, and that his gaze doesn't falter when he smiles, unaware of the terrible things it does to her insides.
She clears her throat and says, "A caramel cappuccino. Grande."
He seems to ponder her order before finally picking up a cup and bobbing his head along to the song - when did it change to Pride? - as he jots down the order. "I ain't never giving up, I ain't never ever, I ain't never ever giving up my pride," he hums along, his voice as smooth and shiver-causing as ever.
The words leave her mouth before she can stop her fingers from flicking and her index from tapping the rhythm on the counter. "I ain't never letting go, I ain't never ever, I ain't never ever gonna sell my soul."
Kaminari jerks his head as her words easily leave her lips, but he doesn't say anything, despite his wide eyes. Jirou can't bring herself to stop him when he keeps on singing the refrain, and she feels the smile that threatens to tug at her lips as the words leave her throat, and a weight lifts off her body. For how long have they been stuck there? For how long has she been stuck?
"Like a fish out of water/ Do I belong here?"
Kaminari is positively beaming as his voice laces with hers, overlapping without dominating hers, and she wonders how they can still fit after all these years. When the words "This is me, who I am" linger between them, JIrou can't help it anymore. She tips her head back and laughs, honest to God laughs, disregarding any looks that may be glued on the two of them and allowing herself to return to the dusty classroom they proudly called their "studio".
"American Authors? Really?" she quirks her eyebrows, her shoulders still shaking with laughter.
Kaminari rubs the back of his neck but only answers, "I missed your voice."
Jirou crinkles her nose and ignores the warmth that envelopes her. "I'm rusty. I haven't sung in so long!" The song changes to Go Big or Go Home and she plants a hand on her hip, "And unless you play rock, I probably won't sing ever again."
Kaminari chuckles at that, and the sound is much warmer than it has any right to be. The playful wink and conspiratorial whisper, "You know you actually like it" are much more natural than they should be, too, and Jirou pokes him when she realizes how close to bumping their noses are.
"Whatever. Just get me my caffeine before I start this jamming session, Pikachu," she says, raising her guitar case and skipping towards the amplifiers. She's just hurrying because she has to master Another One Bites the Dust until Monday, and her thundering heartbeat has nothing to do with Kaminari's proximity and earnest gaze or with the memories that flood her mind.
Definitely not.
"We didn't listen when they said it can't be done/ We're on a mission to prove everybody wrong."
Jirou picks up where he stopped his strumming, "We had a vision, now we've risen above everyone/ We didn't listen when they said it can't be done." She looks up at his sparkling eyes and says, "Really? The Script?"
"It fits us," he answers without any trace of embarrassment. "We're gonna rock the world, Jirou."
Kaminari is so simple: he says what he thinks and never says what he doesn't mean. That is Kaminari Denki, and that's perhaps why these stupidly calm and eventless afternoons became Jirou's favourite time of the day. She used to fear others' company, but there's something about Kaminari, usually boisterous and painfully loud Kaminari, that puts her at ease.
With her, in this otherwise empty improvised studio, where he has no one to impress and only plain Jirou by his side, his usually sparkly demeanour dims until he only seems to emit a soft light that bathes them, softening his features as he lays his soul and dreams bare in front of Jirou. No matter how guarded she is, she can only listen to the enchanting sound his chords make and accompany him, letting music speak when she can't.
"If you wanna rock," she snaps out of her thoughts, "then do it more like this." She starts playing a song he immediately recognizes, but lets her sing the first lyrics regardless, "You used to get it in your fishnets/ Now you only get it in your night dress."
"Discarded all the naughty nights for niceness/ Landed in a very common crisis."
Jirou shakes her head as she plugs in her guitar and hums, "Nothing seems as pretty as the past though. Arctic Monkeys sure got that one right."
Momo can't pretend not to see the look Kaminari gives Jirou, the way his entire being seems to relax when her best friend touches the chords, and the inkling that he can see the world Jirou is transported to when becoming one with music blooms in her mind.
She suddenly feels her hand being caught in a bigger one, and her eyes snap to attention as Shouto tilts his head just barely, forcing her eyes to meet his. It's also then that she realizes she was mechanically cleaning the tables and starting wiping over his papers. Utterly embarrassed, Momo slips her limp hand out of his and bows her head.
"What happened?" he asks, pulling out the chair next to his for Momo to sit. She casts a glance towards the calm shop, and Sato gives her a thumbs up upon meeting her eyes, proceeding to gently chop Kaminari's head and drag him back to the sink.
Momo gratefully takes her seat, smiling tiredly, "I'm just worried, I suppose."
Shouto's eyes dart to the counter, and he muses, "Is this about your friend?"
Momo nods. "She says her voice sounds weird and never sings in public, but Kaminari effortlessly made her sing along today."
Shouto's eyes are back on hers, his brows raised in slight confusion. "Isn't that a good thing?"
Momo bites her lower lip. She doesn't know why she's telling Shouto all of this, but an irrational part of her trusts him despite knowing him for barely three weeks, and there's something inherently soothing about his mismatched eyes and hair, about the warmth of his hand when he held hers and his deep voice, something that belongs to a pocket of quiet and timelessness.
"It is," she admits, cushioning her cheek on her palm. "But Kyouka is like a tortoise, you know? If you scare her, she retracts back into her shell and needs a lot of prodding to come back out again. And well, you heard his story yesterday."
"In other words, you're scared he hurt her? And that he may do it again?"
"Kyouka was awfully vague about their past," Momo muses, feeling more and more like an overprotective mother hen.
She expects the blunt Shouto to say as much, but instead, he says, "People change, and the most painful experiences shape their characters the most." His voice is laced with something Momo can't pinpoint, but she can tell it's very personal. "All you can do is be by her side, I think."
She doesn't answer, because there's nothing to say. He's right, of course, but Momo gets the impression he isn't only talking about Kyouka here, so she just nods and holds his gaze, searching for clues in his face. There's something lurking behind his eyes, cogs turning and connecting in a way Momo doesn't even begin to comprehend, but she doesn't want to take this machine apart. There's beauty in embracing the mystery.
There should be no surprise that Shouto's words take her by surprise, yet Momo still jolts. "I've never heard you playing the piano." Her blank expression must be self explanatory, because Shouto continues, "You said you could, right?"
"Yes," she answers, still unsure where this is going.
"Could I listen to you?"
"You really needn't go through all the trouble, Shouto."
Momo is still hunched over the pile of bills, counting the money in the cashier, her ponytail spilling over her forehead as she murmurs numbers to herself. Shouto wipes his brow as he brings the broom to the back of the shop and stops for a moment just to take her in. "It's fine," he answers, suppressing the urge to poke the spiky ends of her ponytail.
He's actually incredibly selfish in his reasoning, sticking around because she promised to play something for him. Ever since she told him he's like classical music, Shouto had wondered what that meant to her - wondered how she plays the piano, if her shoulders tremble along with the music, if she leans over the keys with every shift in the melody.
He hears her loosen a long breath - it never feels like Momo sighs, because her exhales are soft, and they leave her smiling rather than frowning. It's not a humph of stress, but rather, it's letting all of her emotions spill in one smooth, wordless gesture, and in the empty cafe, the walls reverberate with her breathing, like a living organism connected to her.
"Good work," he tells her, earning a small smile as she gets up.
"Likewise. I'm in your debt for the constant help," she jokes, making for the piano in the corner. "This doesn't even begin to make up for it, but what would you like me to play, Shouto?"
His answer is in the lack thereof. "Whatever you want."
She hums pensively as she sits down, running her fingers over the wooden surface gingerly. Then, with one swift movement, she pulls the clap to reveal the keys, and presses her fingers over them, tasting the sound.
She gives him no warning before she begins, and Shouto immediately recognizes Morgenstimmung. It erupts from the tips of her fingers, and she sways her head ever so gently to the soothing rhythm, as if she's the center of a spiral of notes that engulf her. Her hands dance along the keyboard, and Shouto has the feeling she barely touches a white key before transitioning to the next, like the music is leading her and not the other way around.
There's something personal about the way Momo plays, the way she keeps her back arched straight and barely watches the keys, the way she seems to be in the middle of a forest that is waking up and has the capacity to drag her with him. Shouto doesn't know if it's part of the magic of the shop, but he wouldn't be surprised if a tiny fairy creaked a tea drawer open and peeked out of it, and if Peter Pan declared this place his Neverland, he wouldn't really be able to object to it.
Momo is graceful - no, she's grace - and the smile that blooms across her lips has Shouto dazed, because it certainly doesn't belong to the humanly realm. And it's in the middle of the night, while playing a song to wake up nature, that Shouto feels something wake up in himself.
With the last notes, Momo finally opens her eyes, a fond look etched into the pools of obsidian. Even when she's done, she keeps her hand on the keys, as if she's in a spell not to be broken, and raises her head to meet his eyes softly. There's that spark again, twinkling like starlight, and Shouto doesn't know where all the words were buried, but doesn't make any attempt to dig for them, either. He wouldn't be able to describe this feeling even if he had a dictionary at his disposition.
Eventually, she laughs softly and says, "Not really a song to play at night, huh?"
Shouto shakes his head and finds himself saying, "I think it worked."
There's something in his chest he can't name, but when Momo giggles at his words, the sound is so warm that whatever is in him blooms. He finds the feeling to be pleasant, and he offers to walk Momo home.
AN: Hello again!
I know it's been a long time, but I was fairly busy with my two other todomomo fics (I post on ao3 more, mostly because I'm allowed to have a coauthor there lol) and didn't want to rush this one. I have the next 5 chapters roughly outlined, but thanks to some of you lovely ones, who kept asking me about a cup of magic updates, I finally took the time to write this and. Dear God. I missed this fic so much!
As for this chapter... I know it's not long, but it's important for two big reasons: one, I love character interactions and two, Kamijirou and Todomomo need time to figure out where they stand. Shouto is slowly getting there, and as for everyone's favourite Pikachu and purplehead, they have some things to work out... hehe:)
I'll try to update soon again, at least with a side story. Tell me whose sidestory you're interested in seeing, and till next time, with a cup of hot milk~