Sojiro Sakura has noticed a lot of strange comings and goings since taking in that convict. There's that Nijima lady of courseโshe's not new but it sure as hell seems like she's been poking her head in more; there's the kid's friendsโa mob of teenagers he's been assembling over the last few months who seem to each be willing to take a bullet for him; and then there's the detective.
He comes and goes far more often than the others; it seems he's made Leblanc a favorite. Indeed, he doesn't seem to be part of the group at all. When the stars cross and they all show up at the same time, Sojiro can't help but notice the stifled looks on their faces. "It seems I am unwelcome wherever I go." Sojiro thought he heard the detective say that once.
And yet he keeps showing up. Most of time, he orders a single cup with far too much sugar in it and sits around like a dog waiting for its owner to come home. If Sojiro hadn't seen the broadcasts and come to know how popular this kid was, he would've assumed the detective didn't have friends with how he spends his time.
The way they look atโthe way they talk toโeach other is strange. He watches them circle each other relentlessly, like rival vulture kettles both swarming over the same piece of meat. The detective says something that's clearly meant to be passive-aggressive and yet Sojiro's stowaway responds with a smile and a perfectly active-aggressive push for friendship. It seems the Shujin student has won this round; the fire in his opponents eyes has tripled over.
When he comes, he stays, and he stays late. Sojiro practically has to ask the detective to leave when it's closing time, barely making by with a long sigh and the hanging of his apron. Even when the closing bell is rung and the stragglers have to shuffle out, he drags his feet and steals glances.
On a cold late autumn night, Sojiro Sakura reaches into his pockets and finds that his wallet isn't there. He doesn't worry, though. The walk to Leblanc from his home is short and, even if it isn't in the cafe itself, his wallet is certain to be between the two. When he arrives, the door is cracked open ajar, it's hung "closed" sign swaying in the fall breeze. With a "hm", Sojiro moves to close it. Through the window, though, he spots something that makes him rethink.
Approaching, he finds two cups of coffee nearly completely drunk sitting on his bartop. One smells dark and bland while the other is sickly sweet. Beside them is a chessboard assembled into a stalemate. Before Sojiro can put much thought into this, a noise from upstairs startles him. A grunt or a shout or an exhaleโsomething he cannot quite place. It's enough to kick his feeble adrenaline glands into gear.
Rigidly, he puts a foot on the stairs to the attic. One step at a time he ascends, careful not to lay a gram on the board he knows will sing and holler if he lets it. Here, the low light cast off two pathetic overhead bulbs reaches him, and thus the room reveals itself to him as well. Crouching like a thief in his own place, he can hear them now.
"I hate you, you know that Ren?" A voice he's become accustomed to speaks, it's owner pinning Sojiro's houseguest to the cot. The detective breathes heavy over him, fighting a smile.
His entrapped prey below refuses to fight, though, both his captor and his growing smile, somehow dopey and cocky at the same time. "Really?" he waxes. "I don't know. It's hard to tell sometimes. Why don't you prove it?"
The smile breaks free on the detective's face. Then, neither is smiling. Or, perhaps, they are smiling in tandem. They descend upon each other, falling into themselves infinitely. Soft, supple flesh meets soft, supple flesh. The rivals become one shape.
"Ah." Sojiro raises his eyebrows, sighing and shaking his head, a smile of his own tickling his lips. Again he lays feet on the stairs, this time to descend. Soft muffled steps make their way out of the front doorโgrabbing his wallet on the way. A few fingers on the hammer of the bell as he opens and then closes it behind him. Alone in the soft autumn air, Sojiro Sakura shakes his head again. "Honestly, what was I expecting? I suppose boys will be boys."
He walks off, and returns home.
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