#akiraxreaderxren

OOC: So, I seem to be in the mood to put you through the mill this afternoon, dear reader. My apologies for that in advance.

I hope to be especially busy today, so I hope this will tide you folks over until I post other things. Anyway... I’ve talked enough, I think.

Let us start the game together, shall we? Please indulge yourself, my dear customer. Enjoy. ☕

Part 2 is here. https://thehuggamugcafe.tumblr.com/post/174898453922/the-charlatan-transfer-student-ii

No sooner had the barely-there smile touched his lips, it was gone, replaced by a frown as his brows pinched the slant of his gray eyes.

“Have you been told? A customer of mine and your parents know each other, and—”

Sojiro stopped in the midst of his spiel, breathing a sigh. Quietly, going by the irritated look in his eyes, the annoyed scowl that pinched his lightly aged face, he seemed to view it as too much of a hassle to explain himself to you.

You couldn’t help but silently wonder why he was so distant with others, but you knew better than to push your luck by voicing your curiosity. Sojiro Sakura was your caretaker for the next year, and if you so much as toed the invisible line, or worse crossed it, he would throw you out and you knew where you’d end up. A cell in juvie hall.

“Well, not that that matters. Follow me.”

You waited until his back was turned and he began walking until, finally, you decided that following his example was a good idea. Halfway up the stairs to a somewhat spacious attic, a question rolled off of your tongue and past your lips before you could stop yourself.

“Um, excuse me... There were a lot of police officers on my way here. Did something happen? Was there an accident, maybe?”

“Huh?”

Sojiro stopped on the staircase, eyeing you critically for a few moments before he breathed an all too familiar sigh, one of mild frustration.

“Police officers...? Accident...? It’s not my business, and it’s not yours either, kid.”

It was as though answering you wasn’t worth his time, and again, you couldn’t help but be reminded of how distant, how cold his attitude was. Your first impression of him wasn’t helped by the fact that he called you a kid, either.

When you ascended the final step, your (e/c) gaze quietly took in the sight of the attic as Sojiro proclaimed, “This is your room.”

A dusty wooden shelf was on your left, right next to the staircase landing, filled with bags of what you assumed to be old belongings. You made a mental note to try to avoid from tripping over it in the morning from now on. Bulky trash bags, a ladder, a potted plant, a small heater, a few empty plastic containers, cardboard boxes that were taped shut, a fan covered in cobwebs, and a shelf littered with musty old books cluttered the left-hand side of the room. An old work bench sat in one corner of the room, directly across from an old mattress with a (f/c) sleeping bag, clustered with old books and covered by a plastic sheet.

Next to the workstation, there was an old couch, and next to the couch were more old books on top of and underneath the rickety-looking table. You spotted more cardboard boxes that were taped shut, two laundry baskets, raggedy-looking cloths that hung from the lines that dangled from the attic beams, and a dim yellow white fluorescent glow shone from a few lit light bulbs. Lastly, your eyes landed on a box set in the middle of the attic room, your room for the next year, and you knew it was your belongings from home.

You glanced back at Sojiro as he addressed you with a stern-sounding “hey,” and a look to match.

“Are you listening?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.” He paused to raise a hand, rubbing the back of his neck as he sighed. “I’ll at least give you sheets for your bed.”

The lukewarm stare he gave you caused a chill to dance up and down your spine. You felt very much like a child expecting to be scolded by his or her parent, and you felt like you were walking on egg shells. It was looking more and more like the next year would be... difficult with Sojiro Sakura, to say the least.

“Hm? You look like you want to say something.”

“...It’s big,” you muttered, casting one last glance around the attic.

“It’s on you to clean up the rest. I’ll leave after locking up each day. You’ll be alone at night, but don’t do anything stupid. I’ll throw you out if you cause any trouble.”

You opened your mouth to thank him, but his voice—and the no-nonsense stare he had—stopped you from speaking so much as a word.

“Now then... I got the gist of your situation: You protected some woman from a man forcing himself on her, he got injured, then sued you. Right? That’s what you get for sticking your nose in a matter between two adults. You did injure him, yeah?”

Sojiro paused, breathing a sigh through pursed lips as he stared at you, long and hard. “I guess appearances aren’t everything.”

You swallowed a gulp, a mound of saliva that felt like it was the size of a tennis ball. Instinctively, you felt a hand curling to a fist, a fist that shook, trembled with irritation as your eyes hardened.

“W-Wait a minute, that was all just a... I... I mean that I—”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

Sojiro abruptly cut you off with both a stare that cut through you like a hot knife through butter, and sharp words that rolled off of his tongue.

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention this to anyone. I am in the restaurant business, you know. Anyway,” he paused, withdrawing a cigarette package from one of the pockets of his barista apron.

The flap was opened, and a faint hint of raisin made itself known to you as a tobacco-stuffed cigarette was removed. The middle-aged man put it between his lips as he took out a lighter, and with a flick of his thumb, a small reddish orange flame danced on the windscreen. The small flame touched the end of the cigarette, and soon, a huff of gray smoke was breathed into your face.

“And now that you’ve got a criminal record, you were expelled from your high school. The courts ordered you to transfer and move out here, which your parents also approved. In other words,” he paused, his lips curling as he smiled, but it wasn’t a pleasant smile, “they got rid of you for being a pain in the ass.”

He breathed a second huff of smoke, watching your expression as the gray white smog filtered by you, around you, and wafted throughout the dusty attic.

“Behave yourself for the year. If nothing happens, your probation will be lifted.”

“...A whole year,” you muttered, more to yourself than to your caretaker.

“Your sentence lasts until next spring, right? That’s why you’re gonna be here for the coming year. Cause any problems, and you’ll be sent straight to juvie.”

The middle-aged barista crushed the smouldering butt of his cigarette into the edge of the shelf on the left of where you both stood.

“We’ll be going to Shujin tomorrow.”

“...Shujin?” you asked, blinking owlishly.

“Shujin Academy—the school you’ll be attending. We’ll introduce ourselves properly to the staff there. There’s rarely a place that will accept someone like you, you know.”

By someone like me, he means someone with a criminal record, even if it is a false charge!

You said nothing, deciding it was wise to bite the inside of your cheek for the time being.

“...Yes, sir,” you replied, your soft words earning a quiet, long winded sigh from Sojiro.

“What a waste of my Sunday... Your luggage arrived earlier; I left it over there.”

Your eyes fell on the cardboard box that was just behind him, nodding once.

“...I’ll leave it to you then, kid. Oh, and you heard what I said, didn’t you? Cause me any grief, and I’ll toss you out onto the streets like the troublemaker you are. Got it?”

“...Yes, sir. I understand.”

“Good. Make sure to go to bed early. I won’t be the one looking after you if you get sick because you stayed up too late.”

“...Yes, sir. Good night.”

You watched as Sojiro turned on his heels, the soles of his white shoes clicking as he descended the attic stairs. Your eyes did a slow, thorough sweep of the attic, breathing a sigh as you set your schoolbag on a table on the right-hand side of the attic stairs.

“This is gonna take me a while...”

It took some time, but finally, you collapsed on what was to be your bed for the next year, your hands resting on your interlocked palms, fingers linked together. The lumpy mattress shifted, quietly groaning in protest as your weight was added to it. By the time you had finished cleaning the attic that probably hadn’t seen a feather duster in years, it was early evening. The distant caws of a crow reached you through the rickety window that blew a cool, crisp spring breeze into the room through a crack in the opening, whispering across your face as you breathed a sigh.

Your (e/c) gaze stared up into the ceiling, lazily eyeing the support beams as thoughts rushed through your mind.

Arrest... Trial... Criminal record...

The inebriated voice of that man hissed its way into your head, like a snake winding its way through grass. It was as prevalent as it always was when you thought back to that night. You could still remember the way he glared at you, eyes bloodshot and cheeks flushed with intoxication, pressing a hand to his head injury as he spat angrily at you.

“You little bitch... I’ll sue!”

Back then... On that evening... I wasn’t in the wrong. I know I did the right thing.

That was what you told yourself over and over again, but it was a sobering comfort, albeit a bittersweet one. You helped a woman who was in clear need of aid, and what had you gotten in return as thanks?

A slap to the face and angry words, courtesy of your mother.

The sneering lips and haughty stare of your older sister.

The wide, watery eyes and worried glances of your little brother.

The quiet, concerned stare of your father, softly whispering assurances that everything would be okay in the end.

Your friends abandoning you.

Your classmates and the faculty staff eyeing you critically, as though you weren’t the person they once knew anymore.

Your high school expulsion.

Your false criminal record.

Being labelled as a delinquent, a no-good problem child, and on top of everything else, you would be stuck in Tokyo for a whole year.

Still, I couldn’t just let that go.

You remembered you had to go home early on that day. Your father had called, saying your grandfather had been hospitalized for a sudden heart attack, and your cram school teacher had given you the green light to leave early.

“Just get in the car!”

You remembered stopping, flicking a glance down a separate street, pursing your lips as you paused, listening.

“Stop it!”

“How dare you cross me...!”

You moved instinctively, but not away from the sound of quarrelling voices, no.

You moved to where they were coming from.

“Stop it! Let me go!”

The closer you approached, the more clear their voices were. It was a man and a woman, the latter being grappled by the former as the man snarled intoxicated words at the woman, his words slurring noticeably.

“No!”

You remembered the way the woman struggling, doing her best to get away from the man, but for every inch she tried to get away from him, the closer he yanked her back to him with a large, masculine hand wrapped around her forearm.

“Don’t give me that shit...”

“Ow! P-Please, stop!”

She’s in danger. I have to save her!

You remembered how your heels clicked over the asphalt, your schoolbag bumping against your clothed back as you jogged closer. The driver-side door of a car was left open, a car which you assumed was the man’s vehicle, ready to shove the helpless woman inside at any moment.

“Tch... What a waste of time. You think you’re worth causing me trouble? Huh?”

“I-I’ll call the police!”

“Heh, call them if you want! The police are my bitches. They’re not gonna take you seriously.”

“No... Stop...”

The distant wailing of police sirens made you look up the street, and so did the drunken man. He clicked his tongue in clear annoyance.

“Someone called the cops, huh? Get in the car! Incompetent fools like you just need to shut your mouths and follow where I steer this country!”

Suddenly, the hairs raised on the back of your neck as the woman’s eyes fell on you, and the man followed to where she was staring, honing his gaze on you.

“What’re you looking at? Get outta my face!”

You didn’t move. You couldn’t move. You watched as the man took a few steps, his balance was questionable as his eyes leered at you through the orange-coloured lenses of the glasses that sat upon his nose.

“This ain’t a show! Get lost, missy!”

Turning back to glare at the woman over his shoulder, his voice spoke volumes of the irritation he felt.

“See? This is all because you’re so damn slow! Get in the car!”

In the here-and-now, you felt a hand curling to a tight, white-knuckled fist. Your jaw became set as your lips pursed, your brows pinched the slant of your eyes as you stared—no, glared—up at the ceiling.

You breathed a huff and a sour mutter of, “That scumbag,” feeling your eyes sliding shut. You were in the throes of dozing off—that is, until the be-be-beep of your phone pulled you free from the attempt of falling asleep.

You hummed as you withdrew your cellphone from the pocket of your cotton pyjama pants, blinking as your eyes fell on a familiar red and black icon that took the shape of an eye.

It’s that weird app again. Your eyes focused on it, sensing a dizzying spell of feeling lightheaded gripping a hold of you, washing over you. It was slow, gentle, but potent simultaneously, lulling you into a sense of security, of warmth.

“That’s... weird. I deleted it this afternoon. It’s so creepy,” you mumbled, blinking your heavy eyes.

You tried, you honestly and truly tried to resist, but your eyes slid shut, and you fell into the welcoming abyss of unconsciousness.

The clanking of shackles yanked you to full alertness, breathing a shallow gasp as your eyes shot open. Groggy, your eyes watched as a chain lazily swung back and forth, the chilling sound of metal hitting a padded wall resulted in a powerful chill to worm up and down your spine, a shudder that shook your shoulders. The soft but steady noise of water dripping into a toilet was heard directly across from you, echoing all around wherever it was that you resided now.

Wherever this place was, you knew one thing for certain.

This isn’t Leblanc’s attic.

The feeling of cold metal surrounding your wrists, the telltale sound of chains clinking together made you look down, and a similar sensation of icy steel circling your calves earned a second, more thorough glance at yourself. Your quiet suspicions were confirmed; your hands and ankles sported thick metal shackles. Moreover, you wore a white and black striped prisoner’s uniform, clothing that was strangely complimented by the simple pair of raggedy sneakers you wore.

The lumpy mattress you sat on shifted as you tossed your feet on the floor, the worn footwear scuffing over the floor as the soles made contact. You drew in a breath as he sat, back curved as you pressed a hand to your head, trying to assess the situation.

Where am I? How did I get here? Is this a dream?

A soft snicker caught your attention, and you blinked, your head pointing an askance on the cell door. A smirk curled the lips of the noiret, standing at around 5’11’’, the warm onyx iris of his right eye observing you. He wore a standard warden’s uniform. A crisp blue shirt and a black tie, black dress pants covered his legs, and black dress shoes shone with a mirror polish. Finally, a warden’s cap sat atop his head, bearing a golden V, and the black eyepatch that covered his right eye also bore a golden V as he breathed a second chuckle. It was a noise that was surprisingly pleasant to hear, but...

You watched as he shifted, making way for a carbon copy of himself. This young man appeared to be just like him. The same frizzy black hair, the same onyx iris that coolly eyed you, the same clothing, the same eyepatch covered his left eye, but unlike his look-a-like, he seemed to be more stand-offish, more level-headed.  The two noiret, obsidian-eyed wardens shifted, turning sideways as your gaze fell on a rather... odd-looking man.

The first thing you took notice of was his abnormally long nose, and how his wide, bloodshot eyes ogled you in silence. He was dressed in a way that reminded you of a butler, or perhaps a servant of a higher being. A crisp black tailcoat, a white shirt, a black tie, black leggings, and black dress shoes. A grin eternally pulled at his lips as he raised a hand covered by a white glove, appearing to greet you.

For a moment, and only a moment, silence prevailed where you lingered, but finally, the man spoke.

OOC: Good morning, my dear customers. I’ve been on quite the roll lately, haven’t I? I hope this trend continues.

This is something to tide you marvellous people over until I get around to posting something related to the Halloween requests.

Well, that’s enough rambling from yours truly. Let us start the game, shall we? ☕

Part 4 of Transfer Student is here. https://thehuggamugcafe.tumblr.com/post/179520794687/the-charlatan-transfer-student-iv

A sigh was breathed past the lips of Ms. Kawakami as she walked on the courtyard’s walkway, the soles of her white kitten shoes clicking as she stopped at a familiar voice addressing her. She glanced up at a tall man with unkempt brown hair, thick brows pinching the slant of his brown eyes as he frowned in clear disapproval. He sighed as he raised a thick, masculine hand, fingers tussling his hair.

Suguru Kamoshida, the PE teacher and volleyball coach. He was also an former Olympic medalist, and if his dedication (for lack of a better word) to the volleyball team was anything to go by, he certainly had talent in athletics.

“What a troublesome situation.”

The brunette Japanese Language teacher sighed as she rested a hand on her hip.

“I can’t believe they pushed someone with a record on me. A male teacher would be better suited for this...”

Although... She couldn’t help but silently admit that she wasn’t sure who she was complaining about the transfer student to: Kamoshida or herself.

She shook her head, dismissing the thought. It wasn’t something she should fret over for now. She had enough on her plate to deal with already...

“Why in the world was someone like that admitted here?”

Mr. Kamoshida made no attempts to hide his disapproval he felt at the situation; his face and his voice spoke volumes of his irritation.

“Who knows? It was the principal’s decision. I was told that it was for the school’s reputation.”

“I would’ve thought that my volleyball has contributed more than enough to cover that.”

“That’s certainly true.”

“Be careful, okay?”

Mr. Kamoshida flexed his lightly muscled arms as he talked.

“Then again, if anything were to happen, I’d kick out a student like that right away.”

Ms. Kawakami pursed her lips as she scratched her head, her slim, feminine digits toying with her brunette hair. As Shujin’s “golden star,” Mr. Kamoshida certainly did have a lot of strings to pull at Shujin Academy. It wouldn’t surprise her in the least if he was able to convince the faculty, the student body to give the cold shoulder to the transfer student, and all for having a criminal record.

Shujin Academy couldn’t afford to have any blotches stain its reputation for being a prestigious college-prep school, after all. Then again... It would only bolster the school’s notoriety if, say, a student with a criminal record was reformed.

As the situation was currently playing out, they would most likely outcast her without Mr. Kamoshida having to say anything at all... She couldn’t help but quietly pity the transfer student a bit, just a bit.

“I keep wishing that she’d just end up not coming to school. Still, that isn’t something I should be saying as a teacher...”

“Well, I should be returning to practice.”

Ms. Kawakami’s head bobbed up and down as she nodded.

“Oh, right. The tournament’s coming up soon, isn’t it?”

“Hehe,” Mr. Kamoshida paused to laugh, letting a hearty grin pull at his mouth, displaying pearly white teeth, “having such high expectations placed on you by others is quite a problem in itself.”

Yet you clearly love the attention it brings you.

Ms. Kawakami didn’t dare to voice the thought that just crossed her mind.

There were rumours, of course, unsubstantiated for the most part, but rumour was that Mr. Kamoshida “had a talk” with the necessary people in Shujin Academy to have the previous volleyball coach fired.

She wouldn’t put it past him to have her sacked, simply for speaking up against him or disagreeing with him in any way, shape, or form.

“We’ll have to work hard to make up for the track team too.”

“Yes... that’s true.”

She watched Mr. Kamoshida walk away, and it wasn’t until that she was sure that he was out of earshot that she muttered to herself.

“Why’d it have to be my class...?”

The atmosphere in Sojiro’s car was tense, and although you didn’t show it, you worried that saying the wrong thing might upset your caretaker somehow.

Keep your hands folded in your lap.

Don’t speak unless you’re spoken to.

Don’t speak unless your opinion is asked for.

Don’t say anything unnecessary.

The barista in question grunted in annoyance, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel as he stared---no, glared---out through the windshield. Taillights blinked red, horns honked, and several unkind words were given and exchanged.

It looked like you and Sojiro would be returning home late today...

“Traffic’s not moving at all. You’re taking the train starting tomorrow.”

You nodded silently, not daring to open your mouth.

He paused, and the stress that wrinkled his forehead softened slightly. It was barely noticeable, but for once since you met him, he spoke to you in a somewhat mild manner. You saw that he was doing his best to show that he was annoyed with the traffic jam, and not you; your first impression of him improved slightly because of it, but only slightly.

“So, how was it? The school, I mean. Think you can manage?”

You voiced a soft “mm,” nodding once. “It seems fun.”

However, he breathed a sigh at your response. He didn’t look totally convinced.

“Do you even understand your situation...?”

You blinked as your (f/c)-framed glasses glinted. Your eyes showed confusion behind the spectacles that you wore, and a shimmer of annoyance.

What’s he getting at here? I understand the situation I’m in perfectly well.

“Still, you were expelled once already. To think you’d re-enroll at a different one. It’s not like anyone will be sympathetic with you.”

The passenger seat shifted as you tried to make yourself comfortable. You breathed a silent sigh as you stared out at the busy street, pursing your lips as your caretaker continued talking.

“...If that’s what it was like at school, people might say stuff about me in the future too... What a troublesome kid I’ve taken in.”

You felt a hand curling to a fist that shook in your lap. You clenched it tighter, forcing the barely-there trembling of irritation to stop.

“...Why did you take me in?” you asked, glancing at Sojiro.

“I was asked to do it, and I... just happened to agree to it. I’ve already been paid for it too, after all.”

You said nothing, redirecting your attention back out the windshield, blankly staring at the traffic jam, at the flashing taillights.

It was probably her idea. She convinced Dad to pay Mr. Sojiro to take care of me for my probation period.

Your mind conjured the enraged visage your mother had on that evening. If you focused hard enough, you still felt a phantom pain that was surprisingly familiar, but negative. The phantom pain of being struck across the face.

The low, droning voice of a newscaster on the radio caught your attention.

“Again, a subway has derailed at Shibuya Station, greatly affecting the timetable all across the---”

Sojiro voiced a low, growling sigh of clear-cut vexation.

“Another accident...? So that’s why it’s so crowded. There’s been a lot of those lately.”

Screams filled the air, hair-raising shouts of fear and panic as citizens rushed for safety, running away from the subway platform. The loud screeching of metal was heard as the subway rolled on its side, the high speed resulting in the train colliding one compartment of the train to another. Finally, a cloud of dust hung in the underground subway tunnel, the live footage cutting to a brunette news anchor.

“That was direct footage from the accident. According to the police, the engineer’s life was not in danger despite his injuries. After questioning, even he could not explain his high speed, and no further comments have been made. Police are looking for a plausible motive. In other news....”

The female reporter’s voice droned through the TV’s speakers, and the staring contest was broken by the gruff voice of an elderly-looking man.

“It’s less of an operating accident and more of a crime of the company and the government. Site inspectors reported all of this 6 months ago. The deterioration of the tracks and ATC. Seems the railway company and the Ministry of Transport both turned a blind eye to the truth. There’s no way they can hide; this will go all the way to the top.”

“Now onto our main story. With this derailment accident, as well as other recent incidents of unknown motive, concern is spreading among the general public. Just what could be causing such a drastic change so suddenly in these people?”

“Everything’s linked. That’s what you’re thinking, correct?”

The tall, long-haired woman standing adjacent to him said nothing. Her brown, mauve red-tinted eyes stared at the TV screen, lost in thought.

“Ah well. You free? You and I haven’t gone for a drink in a while.”

A smile curled the woman’s lips as she glanced at him.

“Thank you, sir, but I have another meeting to attend. I must be going.”

She paused to bow respectfully before her boss, her dark gray heels softly hitting the carpet-covered floor of the SIU Director’s office. Soon, she was descending a winding marble staircase, her gaze falling on a young man who was dressed rather well, dressed to impress himself upon others.

A smile curled the brunet, auburn-eyed 18-year-old’s lips.

“Did you ask for me? Is it a case?”

“Not quite. I want your opinion on something.”

“Sure. Your judgment is quite often correct. Shall we discuss this over sushi, perhaps? You are making a student work late, after all.”

“Conveyor belt only.”

The brunet’s face showed disappointment.

“Aw.”

The lock of the coffee shop was undone with a soft click, and the small golden bell jingled its melodic chime as the door was opened. Sojiro’s disgruntled mood was obvious the moment you crossed Leblanc’s threshold, glancing at the middle-aged barista as his face openly showed the annoyance he felt.

“Damn, to think there’d be that much traffic... What a waste of time. I wasn’t able to open the café today.”

He paused, his gray irises staring into your (f/c)-framed gaze, pursing his lips as he breathed an all too familiar sigh.

“...Whatever. Just head upstairs. There’s something I need to give to you.”

Deciding not to question it, you nodded and made your way for the attic stairs, and Sojiro followed.

He glanced at his cellphone as a news notification blinked on his screen.

“Talk about a gruesome accident... 80 people were involved.”

He slid the cellphone back into his pocket, withdrawing a thin book from the front pocket of his two-button white blazer.

“It’s a diary. Make sure you write in it.”

The black-covered diary hit the table with a noticeable flap noise, landing near your schoolbag.

“You may be under probation, but there’s no special limitations on what you do in particular. Besides following the law, that is. However,” he paused, his forehead wrinkling as his stern stare drilled holes into you, “I’m obligated to report on you, which is why I’m having you record your daily activities.”

Be-be-beep.

You watched as Sojiro took out his cellphone again. You noted how he took the time to glance at the caller ID, and how surprisingly relaxed he sounded. He didn’t sound anything like how he spoke to anybody else, but especially you.

“Hey, what’s up? ...I’m about to leave right now. ...Uh-huh. I’ll see you soon.”

The soft smile that curled his lips fell as soon as he hung up, glancing back at you.

“Well, I’m off for the night, so do whatever you want for the rest of the night. Oh, but don’t mess up my store. If something goes missing, I’ll hand you right over to the cops. You got school tomorrow... You’d better head off to bed, all right?”

“Yes, Mr. Sakura. Good night.”

You weren’t bothered by the fact that he didn’t so much as wish you a good night before he left, no. You watched as he descended the stairs, and it wasn’t until you heard the café door opening and shutting that you moved.

Your gaze eyeballed the diary, picking it up and staring at it.

I should do as I’m told for now.

You all but collapsed into bed, the old, lumpy mattress cradling every curve of your body as you stared up at the ceiling, hands cradling the back of your head in folded palms, in interlocked fingers.

Sojiro had called just as you were getting ready for bed, asking you to flip the sign over to closed, and to lock up for the night. You did as he requested of you.

You had only written a few sentences in your probation diary.

4/10

“Today wasn’t a bad day. All in all, my experience in Tokyo has been as I expected it to be so far: busy and bustling.”

“It’s my first day of school tomorrow. I hope everything goes well.”

Let’s see... I need to take the train to school tomorrow...

You dug out your cellphone from your pocket, eyeing the screen.

Yongen-Jaya... Aoyama-Itchome... Transfer...

More news about that subway accident... It sounds like a lot of people were hurt.

I bet this’ll affect the timetables for tomorrow too...

You breathed a hum of confusion, blinking owlishly as a familiar icon blinked on your phone’s screen. It was red and black, taking the form of an eye.

That strange app from last night is back... It keeps showing up.

“It’s so creepy,” you muttered, placing an index finger on the screen.

You dragged it down as a trash can icon popped up, and it was deleted. Again.

I should probably reboot my phone, just in case...

Exhaustion slowly took its hold on you, and you had enough energy to yawn as your eyes felt heavy. You succumbed to the welcoming abyss of unconsciousness.

The first thing you smelled when you woke up the next morning was the pleasant aroma of coffee and curry. Instinctively, your mouth watered as you got dressed for school. You tugged (f/c) leggings over your thighs, and shoved your sock-covered feet into the dress shoes, tapping the heels on the floor as you straightened the front of your blazer.

I have school starting today... I hope I can get there without getting lost. I don’t want to be late on my first day. I should head out now...

The soles of your shoes clicked as you approached the stairs, grabbing your schoolbag and slinging it over your shoulder as you descended the stairs.

“Oh, so you actually are going to school?”

The surprise that laced his voice, that was across his face was as plain as day.

The bag bumped against your back as you walked, and you greeted Sojiro with a soft, “Good morning” and a small smile as you walked past him.

You didn’t want to intrude on his business, and you didn’t want to be late for your first day, however...

His stern voice stopped you when you were halfway to the café door, and you felt a chill run up and down your spine.

“Hey.”

Crap. It’s this early, and I’m already in trouble? I didn’t touch anything last night!

“You leaving so soon, and on an empty stomach?”

What?

You turned around, confused, and stared at Sojiro as he stood behind the service counter.

“Sheesh... Do country folks go out the door in the morning, hungry? At least eat breakfast first.”

...Breakfast?

Your eyes fell on the steaming plate of curry that was placed in front of an empty stool, complimented by a piping hot cup of coffee. Your mind yelled at you to get to school, but your stomach whined, pleading you to eat the food Sojiro had waiting for you.

So, you swallowed and nodded, shrugging the schoolbag off of your shoulder. You set it on the empty stool on your right, picking up the spoon and slowly, carefully stirred it.

“...Curry and coffee? For breakfast?”

You blinked owlishly up at him, (e/c) irises peering through the (f/c)-framed glasses that sat on your nose.

“...What’s that look for? Make sure to eat it before the customers come in.”

“...Thank you for the food.”

That was all you said as you picked up a helping of curry, popping it past your lips. Immediately, your eyes widened in astonishment, chewing and swallowing what was in your mouth before another helping touched your tongue.

This is... This is delicious! I can taste complex flavours hidden in the bold spiciness... How does he not have more business with food this good?

It amazed you even further when you took a sip of coffee, your (e/c) irises shining with enjoyment.

I’m not one for coffee, but this cup is making me seriously reconsider!

When the last spoonful of curry was washed down with a few sips of coffee, you allowed a smile---a real smile, a genuine smile---to curl your lips as you stared at Sojiro.

“That was delicious. Thank you,” you said, nodding as you stooped down to collect your schoolbag.

“Thanks. Hurry over to school. You’ll end up late if you get lost on the way.”

You nodded, bidding him a quick farewell, and turned on your heels, approaching Leblanc’s entrance.

“Oh, flip the sign outside to ‘open’ for me.”

You turned and nodded. It was the least you could do after he went out of his way to make you breakfast, after all.

“Yes, Mr. Sakura.”

“Be sure to do that for me, all right? Now, you better hurry on out. You’ll be late if you get lost, country girl.”

Again, you nodded, turning around and gripping the latch, tugging on it and pulling the door open. The small golden bell jingled softly as you exited, shutting the door as you left.

You flipped the sign from ‘closed’ to ‘open’, glancing around your immediate surroundings as you took in a slow, steady breath, doing your best to shake off the first day jitters.

Stay calm. Stay calm. You got this, country girl or not.

You paused to glance up at the sky, brows furrowed as you took silent notice of the dark rain clouds that were slowly gathering.

OOC: Holy hell. Am I in a mood today! Big Barista mood today indeed!

Do enjoy part 4, my dear customers! Cheers to each and every one of you marvellous people! ☕

Part 3 is here. https://thehuggamugcafe.tumblr.com/post/179489187227/the-charlatan-transfer-student-iii

Your (e/c) irises eyeballed the long-nosed, grinning man as his wide, bloodshot eyes stared at you in quiet contemplation, silently valuing your worth as though you were an antique he hadn’t seen before, and he was a master appraiser. Your fingers found the long and cold bars of the cell you resided in, wrapping around the icy steel as a simpering snicker came from the warden standing on your left.

When you glanced at him, you couldn’t help but notice several key differences between him and his carbon copy standing on your right. The other warden’s eye was cold and indifferent whenever his stare honed on you, and the other warden’s eye sparked with warmth and interest. The smirk that pulled at his lips twitched, threatening to widen as your eyes met his one-eyed leer.

“Ah... So Sleeping Beauty finally awakens, and not to kisses?” he asked, more to himself than to you.

The frizzy-haired warden breathed a laugh, chuckling as he caught the soft hum of irritation that tickled the back of your throat. You stared at him as he lost the smirk, staring at you as his obsidian eye shone with open interest in you, acting—and looking—serious enough to fit the situation.

“The ‘you’ in reality is currently fast asleep; you are only experiencing this as a dream, my dear prisoner.”

“Your posture is horrible. You are in the presence of our master, so straighten your back, Inmate.”

You glanced at the noiret, onyx-eyed warden standing on your right, watching as he tapped a thin, but decidedly deadly-looking baton in the palm of his gloved hand. His left eye stared at you critically, narrowing to an icy slit of gray and white, watching you as your eyes strayed back on the grinning man.

“Welcome. I am delighted to make your acquaintance. This place exists between dream and reality, mind and matter. It is a room that only those who are bound by a “contract” may enter. I am Igor, the master of this place. Remember it well.”

The man tapped his glove-covered fingers on the wooden desk he sat in front of, one thin, bony-looking leg crossed on a knee as he sat in a cushioned chair, wide, bloodshot eyes ogling you as he spoke.

“I summoned you here to speak of important matters. It involves your life as well.”

Swallowing, you cast a glance around what little of this space you could successfully glean with your vision. Across from you, around you, on your left and on your right, you saw cramped cells that mirrored the one you resided in. You watched as shackles lazily swung back and forth from the mantles that were bolted into the padded walls they hung from, making a faint metallic noise that sent chills up and down your spine. You saw empty food trays. You saw empty beds, the lumpy mattresses not holding any sleeping bodies. You saw cell doors that were flung open, unlike the door belonging to your personal cell.

Even if you could escape from this hellish place, you doubted you could break yourself free from the padded cell that surrounded you. The lock was quite sturdy, the chains that interwove across each other on the cell looked durable, hefty enough so that you didn’t have a prayer in Hell to so much as dent them.

The cold steel shackles on your wrists reminded you of the cell you had briefly owned in reality, and the bitter irony of leaving one cell and winding up in another wasn’t lost on you. The shackle that adorned your ankle, constantly reminding you of its chilling presence each time you shifted your feet, each time you took a baby step—however, the iron ball that connected your left ankle to it ensured that your mobility remained as it was: limited.

Forced confinement. Isolation. No freedom. Stern glares. Coy, flirtatious looks. Drawling hums of interest. Orders being hissed to you, and like it or not, you were expected to follow them to the letter, or risk facing severe punishment. Eyes constantly watching you. Eyes always quietly judging your worth, what little value you may have at the moment.

This strange place was no different than the juvenile hall you had been in reality for a short time.

If there was indeed a place called Hell, you were certain that was where you were in the present.

Anxiety threatened to overpower you, and you felt a cold sweat beginning to break out across your forehead. A few icy droplets trickled down your cheeks, causing a few strands of hair to stick to your worried, high-strung expression. (E/c) irises nervously glanced around, looking for a way out, an escape route out of the odd place you found yourself residing in. Frustrated, the apprehension piquing, your fingers gripped the cold steel bars as your jaw became set, as you narrowed your eyes and breathed a long, drawling growl.

“Dammit! Let me out of here!” you seethed, gripping and tugging at the steel bars as you spoke.

A chilling one-eyed stare was the only forewarning you received before an arm was swung back and forward, slamming the baton into the bars of your cell. Gloved fingers gripped the thin weapon, electricity crackled along and around the thin weapon. The noise the weapon made as it struck your cell created a ear-ringing clang, the sound echoing for a few moments.

You breathed a gasp as your hands left the cell bars, jumping back as though a jolt of electricity had coursed through the cold steel rods. Your nervous, on-edge visage met the stern, no-nonsense glare of the frizzy-haired warden.

You recognized the action for what it was. You recognized the stare the other, more standoffish warden gave you as he kept his cold one-eyed glare on you. It was a warning. A warning for you to acknowledge the position you were in. A warning for you not to toe or cross the invisible line, the invisible line that had been drawn in the sand for you.

Keep your head down.

Smile and nod.

Be obedient.

Do as you’re told.

Abide by the rules and you’ll scrape by unharmed.

It was nothing new; it had been your day-to-day routine before and during your stint in juvie, but especially after your brief stay in jail.

“Hold your tongue, Inmate. Be mindful of what you say to our master, do you understand?”

The warden didn’t shout at you, and he didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t have to. What he did and said to you was enough of a warning as it was.

The other warden voiced a few teasing “tsk’s,” raising a hand and crooking a leather-covered index finger back and forth, slowly, the smirk pulling at his lips as he did so.

“Now, now... You’d best behave yourself, my dear jailbird. I’d hate to have to punish you for misbehaving.”

The other, more warmhearted warden finished his statement off with a simpering chuckle.

“Still, this is a surprise...”

Igor’s wide, bloodshot eyes stared at his surroundings, the wide grin eternally stretching his lips apart.

“The state of this room reflects the state of your own heart. To think a prison would appear as such.”

Soft, shaky breaths left you as you slowly walked forwards, hands reaching for the cell bars, which your fingers gently held.

“You truly are a “prisoner” of fate. There is no doubt that in the future, ruin awaits you.”

“...Ruin?”

You quietly took notice of how much your voice shook as you uttered that single word.

It certainly sounded ominous, but especially so whenever you spoke it.

“I speak of the end of everything. However, you have no need to worry; there is a means to avoid such a fate. You must be “rehabilitated.” Rehabilitated toward freedom. That is your only means to avoid ruin... Do you have the resolve to challenge the distortion of the world?”

You fell silent, your (h/c) bangs brushing against your cheeks as you bowed your head, lost in your thoughts.

Rehabilitation... Ruin... I don’t get what this old geezer’s saying, but...

“Please, help!”

“You little bitch... I’ll sue!”

“Years, years, of hard work, gone, wasted! Because of you!”

“Tch... Daddy’s little girl... You can’t do anything wrong in his eyes, can you? You little bitch!”

“Sister, it’ll be okay. I’m here for you!”

“Just behave yourself and don’t get into any trouble. A year will go by before you know it, and then you’ll be able to come home, honey.”

“Oh, and you heard what I said, didn’t you? Cause me any grief, and I’ll toss you out onto the streets like the troublemaker you are. Got it?”

Several voices, several faces popped into your mind. The face of the woman you saved. The glaring eyes of the man as he spat threats of suing you. Your parents’ faces. Your sister’s. Your brother’s. Hell, even Sojiro’s face came to mind.

The majority of their expressions were cold, uncaring, their eyes showing either disapproval, disappointment, a sneering haughtiness, but the few that didn’t quietly express his or her dislike of you were kind, worried for your well-being.

If there’s a chance I can... I can fix things, maybe get back at the shitty society somehow... I’m all in!

(E/c) irises glinted with determination, burning with resolve as you raised your head, staring long and hard at the wide-eyed, grinning elderly man.

“Oh?” Igor drawled lazily, breathing a deep chuckle. He seemed to be amused at the look you gave him...

“Yes, I do,” you said, polishing off your statement with a sure-fire nod.

For the first time in weeks, in months, you felt confident of what you had decided upon.

“I mean I...”

You faltered, the boost of self-confidence ebbing away no sooner had it come to you.

“I’d rather avoid ruin, if it’s possible to do so.”

Igor voiced another throaty laugh, raising his hands and bringing them together once, twice in a clap.

“Ah, I’m glad to hear it. Now... Allow me to observe the path of your rehabilitation...”

The wide-eyed, grinning man paused as the two warden moved as one. They turned around, stepped forward, their backs straight as they stared at you through the cold steel bars of your cell.

“Ah, pardon me for not introducing the others. To your right is Ren; to your left, Akira. They serve as wardens here.”

“What’s that defiant look for, Inmate? Would you like your freedom to be restricted further than it already is?”

Ren’s stone-cold stare bore right into you, cutting deep like the glinting blade of a knife.

Meanwhile, Akira’s warm laugh slowly soothed you, the smirk switching for a smile.

“Now, now... Be nice to the prisoner, Ren. It’s her first time visiting us, after all.”

Akira’s joking undertone earned him a bored askance from Ren, the former smirking as his twin shook his head.

“As wardens, it is our duty to ensure that your safety is guaranteed; we are also your collaborators, should the need arise. Of course,” Akira paused, his right eye twinkling with merriment as he laughed, “so long as you behave yourself, that is.”

“I shall explain the roles of these two at another occasion.”

Akira and Ren pivoted on their heels, their one-eyed stares pointed at their master, Igor, as he talked.

“Now then, it seems the night is waning. It is almost time... Take your time to slowly come to understand this place. We will surely meet again, eventually.”

The grinning man raised a gloved hand, and you glanced up and around as a blaring alarm rang shrilly.

“Your business is done here.”

You glanced at Ren, watching him as he spoke, turning back around, stepping forward with his hands folded behind his back. Your eyes fell on the baton the frizzy-haired warden held, causing a chill to run down your spine.

“Hurry up and go back to sleep already.”

“Sweet dreams, my lovely detainee.”

“W-Wait a minute...! I still have questions!”

Your voice echoed as you shot forward, fingers gripping the bars with a renewed vigour, but it was pointless. You felt a dizzying spell of exhaustion creeping up on you, and you slowly released your iron-clad grip on the cold cell bars, slumping to your knees as your eyes grew heavy.

You passed out before you hit the icy floor of your confinement cell, but the last thing you saw...

Ren’s coolly collected stare and Akira’s soft smile stared back at you.

“W-Wait!” you gasped as your eyes flew open, shooting up in bed.

You glanced around, your shivering gaze taking in the familiar sight of dust floating in the air. As surprising as it was, seeing the cobwebs, the plastic sheets, the old books, and feeling a gentle spring breeze wafting in through the attic window comforted you.

It was a relief to be back in your attic room once again, and the spring breeze that cooled your sweating face was a welcomed relief. You breathed a sigh as you sat up in bed, your nightshirt and pyjama pants rubbing against your warm skin as the (f/c) sleeping bag was tossed off of you. Despite your sluggish demeanour, your body wailing in protest whenever you moved, thoughts ran through your mind as you got dressed for your first-time visit to Shujin Academy.

What a strange dream that was... Ruin... Rehabilitation... That old man... Those twin wardens... Maybe the transfer to the big city was a bigger shock than I thought it was...?

You breathed a second sigh as you buttoned the black blazer, pulling (f/c) leggings over your thighs, and shrugging your sock-covered feet into the black dress shoes.

Yeah, that... That has to be it. What else would it be?

You spared a glance down at your wrists, pursing your lips as you brushed your fingers over the skin.

I can still feel those damn shackles on my skin...

The sound of footsteps ascending the stairs pulled you from your musings, and your gaze met Sojiro’s. All in all, the only differences between his barista outfit and what he wore at the moment were a two-button blazer, and a white trilby with a red-white-and-blue striped hat band. The pale pink shirt, the pale rolled-up khakis, the white leather belt, and the white loafers remained.

“Looks like you’re up. Well, let’s go introduce ourselves properly to the staff about your transfer. The school you’ll be attending is in the Aoyama district. It costs you a bit to ride the train there, and the route transfers are a pain. I’ll drive you there, but just for today. Let’s go.”  

You nodded as you got up off of the bed. The lumpy mattress shifted, and the (f/c) sleeping bag rustled as you moved. However, when you followed Sojiro down the attic steps, you heard him mutter to himself.

“Sheesh... Women your age aren’t usually allowed in my passenger seat.”

Your eyes stared up at the prestigious Shujin Academy, (e/c) irises shimmering with intrigue. It was a hell of a lot more impressive in person. You figured that your old school back home could fit twice, three times into a college-prep school the size of Shujin Academy easily!

I guess they don’t call Tokyo the big city for nothing.

You were pulled back to reality with an all too familiar, stern-sounding “hey” from Sojiro. You blinked your eyes—framed by (f/c)-coloured glasses—once, and tilted your head, silently telling him that he had your full attention.

“Do me a favour and behave yourself, all right? Don’t get me wrong—I don’t care what happens to you. Just don’t cause me any trouble.”

“...Yes, sir,” you replied softly, nodding once.

“Let’s go.”

You breathed a silent sigh, nodding as you followed him up the steps of the labyrinth-style school. Your eyes glanced around as you took in the sight of spotless windows, the wooden floor that shone with a mirror polish, the trophy cases that boasted of students’ accomplishments, both past and present. Everything in the school was clean, almost unbearably so.

How does anyone find their way without getting lost? It’s like a maze!

It was sooner than you would have liked, but you felt the nostalgic sense of being judged, of being leered at with distrust—but by the principal this time. You bit back several choice titles as he watched you, as you watched his several chins wobbling as his mouth moved, his thick brows pinching the slant of his narrow eyes as he talked.

“To reiterate, just so we’re clear, you’ll be immediately expelled if you cause any problems. Honestly, I hesitated on accepting someone like you, but there were some circumstances on our side...”

The sound of a pen clattering as it was set back on the principal’s desk was clear. Sojiro had finished signing the small stack of forms. Clearing his throat, the pot-bellied man continued speaking.

“You may have done a variety of things in hiding in your hometown, but you will behave yourself here. If you are thrown out from our school, there will be no place for you to go. Keep that in mind.”

Turning to the brunette standing beside him, he nodded.

“This is the teacher in charge of your class.”

“I’m Sadayo Kawakami. Here’s your student ID.”

She set a red ID holder on the desk, and you reached forward, taking it and stuffing it in one of the front pockets of your blazer.

“Be sure to read the school rules. Any violations will send you straight to the guidance office. And, if by chance you cause any problems, I won’t be able to protect you at all.”

Turning to the bald head of the school, she asked, “That is your promise, yes, Principal Kobayakawa?”

“Mm-hm. She is responsible for all her actions.”

Kawakami’s face fell as she folded her arms across her chest. She didn’t look or sound pleased.

“But really though, why me...? There should’ve been better candidates.”

I’m standing right here, you know.

“It was a sudden transfer, and your class was the only one that had an opening. Besides,” he paused, sparing you a quick glance before looking back at the drowsy-eyed teacher.

“Wouldn’t you feel more at ease having a transfer student in your class? A female transfer student at that—she shouldn’t be too much of a handful for you, Ms. Kawakami.”

Kawakami sighed, raising a hand and scratching at her head. “I hope not...”

“If you’re done explaining things, mind if we get going? I got a store to get back to.”

“Mr. Sakura, please keep a close eye on her... Don’t let her cause any trouble outside.”

It took everything you had not to narrow your eyes, not to let a particularly snarky comment roll off of your tongue.

“I’ll be sure to have a serious talk about the situation she’s in.”

“Come to the faculty office when you arrive at school tomorrow. I’ll show you to your classroom.”

You nodded, pausing to bow respectfully before leaving the principal’s office with Sojiro. It wasn’t until you two were halfway to the school entrance that he stopped, breathing a sigh as he scratched at his balding head of black hair.

“They’re treating you like some kinda nuisance... I guess that what it means to have a criminal record.”

Turning on you, he continued, “Turns out your past follows you wherever you go.”

Sojiro paused, his brows pinching the slant of his eyes as his gray irises coldly leered at you.

“By the way, if you get expelled now, I won’t hesitate to kick you out. Got it?”

“I’ll be careful, Mr. Sakura.”

You polished your statement off by toying with a stray bang of (h/l) (h/c) hair.

“Hmph.”

He didn’t look convinced, breathing a sigh before he softly muttered, “School never changes, huh?”

“Come on, we’re going home.”

This story is a work of fiction.

Similarities between characters or events to persons living or dead in your world are purely coincidental.

Only those who have agreed to the above have the privilege of partaking in this game.                  

You found yourself floating in an endless abyss, a void of eternal nothingness spread out before you.

You felt nothing. You saw nothing. You sensed nothing. Tendrils of shadows filtered through your fingers, empty and yet familiar, similar to the very air you drew in. Nonexistent. Meaningless. Empty.

Surprisingly, a large part of you didn’t care as to why you were here, in the never-ending expanse of nonexistence that stretched out before your “sight”, or what could pass for your vision.

And yet...

The feeling of apathy was encompassed, surrounded with and soundly defeated by a quiet, barely-there emotion as it rose up inside you.

Curiosity. A hint of vague interest.

Honestly, you felt a sense of macabre amusement at your current circumstances, however foreboding they may be. Indeed, you felt similar to a chess piece across a spacious chessboard. A random, average player, one of many sitting atop a grand board game, forced to partake in a situation of unfortunate circumstances that were beyond your current understanding.

If you were capable of smirking, hell, even laughing at the situation you found yourself in, a smile would have certainly curled your lips. A laugh would have left your mouth as it curled to form a small, tooth-filled grin, a chuckle that would’ve echoed into the abysmal horizon that didn’t seem to end.

An empty, hollow, and meaningless chuckle. A snicker that bellied the apathetic amusement you were feeling, and yet...

The curiosity persisted.

It pricked at your subconscious, demanding to be satiated. Your mouth opened, but no words rolled off of your tongue. Suddenly, you quietly realized just how stifling the unseen presence was. The silent entity, whatever it may be, had temporarily robbed you of your ability to reason, to argue, to disagree at all.

However...

Your unvoiced intrigue remained.

You were a player, a player unwittingly thrust into a game.

A game where you had to undoubtedly play by the rules, or face severe consequences.

A game overseen by a faceless developer.

A developer who, for all intents and purposes, you had no intention—or desire—of knowing.

In the empty abyss, you couldn’t help but smile as you mulled over the pros versus the cons.

Finally, you were compelled to accept.

Two words left your mouth, pulled back to form a faint grin full of pearly whites.

“I agree.”

...The contract has been sealed.

The world is not as it should be, and “ruin” can no longer be avoided.

Those who oppose fate and desire change...

From time to time, they were referred to as Tricksters and Charlatans.

You are the Trickster; you are the Charlatan.

Now is the time to rise up against the abyss of distortion.

A question formed at the back of your throat, rising up to roll off of your tongue. However, before your inquisitive thoughts could be spoken, a hand wrapped around your throat, stifling your curiosity, and cutting off your voice that desired to make its thoughts—your thoughts—known to the unseen entity.

...No, in fact, that assessment was incorrect.

The hand wasn’t clutching your throat; it had an ironclad grip on your soul. Your ethereal essence seemed to fit into the being’s hand, threatening to rob you of every speck of life you possessed. You felt like a puppet connected to strings that you couldn’t cut, being unwittingly controlled by a master puppeteer.

Slowly, everything around you began to fade back into non-being, dissolving into a deeper, more hellish abyss as it encroached upon you.

Your head shot up as a gasp left your mouth, short and breathless, as your eyes snapped open. Your irises remained dilated for a few moments, readjusting to the glaring light of the late afternoon sunlight from the windows. The lumpy seat of the booth seat you sat in cradled your clothed bottom, and a weary frown pursed your lips, blinking your sleepy eyes as a yawn pulled on your mouth.

The sore, uncomfortable feeling that dominated your stationary form reminded you how long you’d been sitting, riding the subway train to your destination. You blinked, raising both hands and rubbing the bridge of your knuckles over your eyes as they closed. The slim edge of the fake glasses you wore bounced over your digits, pausing only to daintily readjust them before, finally, you seemed satisfied.

The vibrations of the subway train as it clicked and clacked on the railway woke you up, wrestled you free of the daytime terror’s jaws. Indeed, you felt the ice cold sweat still forming on your forehead, trailing its cool, salty trails down your skin. You spared a glance down at your hands, folded in your lap. You took notice of how they shook, trembled as your fingers clutched at the plaid skirt you wore.

A dream? you mused mentally, pursing your lips as your fingers relinquished their tight grip on the plaid skirt.

But... What was the dream about...?

The silent question didn’t come with an answer, and no recollections smacked you across the face, bringing a fresh hit of awe-filled intrigue along with it. It was something you were grateful for, not being able to recall what the dream had been about.

For a moment, you rode a quiet wave of relaxation, leaning back where you sat, feeling the hard edge of the seat digging into your back. You were content to remain as an observer, riding the train to your new destination. There were other passengers aboard the train, each minding his or her own business.

A sign above you listed recent tragedies, some regarding train crashes as a result of sleep-deprived conductors. The constant barrage of accidents and “psychotic breakdowns”, you noted one headline mentioned something about that, were enough to cause a wave of anxiety to be at the forefront of the general public. The public who were seeking, no, demanding answers from the government, to fix the mistakes that caused them to worry, so they could go back to their peaceful, boring day-to-day lives.

You breathed in a sigh. Whatever... It doesn’t concern me; I’m an outsider here in the big city, anyway.

The citizens’ concerns didn’t matter to you, a third-year, eighteen-year-old high school girl, who was also a bona-fide country gal. You, (Y/n) (L/n), with (h/l) (h/c) hair and (e/c) irises, (e/c) irises that stared out from behind a pair of (f/c)-framed spectacles innocently perched on your nose.

You took a moment to spare a glance down at yourself. Your attire consisted of a red-buttoned black blazer with the school’s emblem on the right-hand breast pocket, a white turtleneck shirt with chevron detailing on the collar, a red plaid skirt, (f/c) stockings, and black dress shoes. The small ‘3’ pinned to the folded collar showed that, yes, you were indeed a third-year student.

You took in a breath, slow and deep, releasing it in a steady whoosh of an exhale as you removed a handkerchief from your breast pocket. The feeling of silk touched your fingertips as you raised the handkerchief to your perspiring crown, wiping away all traces of sweat off your crown.

You made a mental note to wash the handkerchief as you folded it, tucking it back into the breast pocket of the black blazer you wore. You glanced up as an announcement came through the subway’s intercom.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for riding with us today. We will be arriving in Shibuya shortly. Please transfer there for all rides. The doors to your left will open.”

As the announcement came to an end, you checked your phone for the time. 4:10. It’s pretty late. You slid your phone back into your pocket, feeling a frown pursing your lips as you thought back to that day.

The event that changed your life forever...

“Please, help!”

You remembered watching as a young woman looked at you, eyes pleading for the aid that she requested of you, begging for help as she was grappled by an intoxicated man. The same man who was trying to force her into the open passenger door of his car.

You recalled the icy chill of hesitation as it washed over you.

The lady had asked you, a high school girl, to help her?

You remembered biting back a sarcastic laugh. What, were you suddenly an armoured maiden on a white horse? Had you arrived just in time to save the damsel in distress from the terrible dragon, ready to devour her as its dinner?

What could you do? Go to the nearest house, bang on the front door, screaming for someone to call the police? For all you knew, the guy would have shoved the helpless, screaming woman into his car and driven off before the cops arrived on the scene!

Still...

You couldn’t just walk away and pretend that the situation had nothing to do with you.

You had to do something, anything. You wouldn’t... No, you couldn’t be an ignorant bystander.

Your mind was set, just as you felt your dominant hand curling to a fist. The heels of your shoes clicked over the asphalt as you approached the struggling woman, and the man snarling intoxicated slurs.

“You think you’re worth causing me trouble, huh? Incompetent fools like you just need to shut your mouths and follow where I steer this country!”

“No! Stop, please!”

“Hey! Lay off of her, you drunk asshole!”

You remembered placing a hand on the inebriated man’s shoulder as you spoke, hoping to divert his attention away from her and on to you. You weren’t sure what you thought beyond that; you just wanted him away from her.

You remembered the man drunkenly swinging an arm, tripping over his feet and hitting the ground. The woman stifled a gasp, her hands covering her mouth as the man slowly sat up, a hand pressed to his head injury as rivulets of red stained his fingers. He glared at you, face lit with an intoxicated flush, eyes full of rage as he spat at you.

“You little bitch... I’ll sue!”

You couldn’t recall what happened beyond that.

The state of shock was quickly replaced by the cold feeling of handcuffs being slapped around your wrists, and being all but shoved into a waiting police car by two officers.

The events of that fateful night weren’t the worst part of your ordeal.

No. The absolute worst part of your tribulation came at your court hearing.

You remembered seeing your mother’s eyes as she stared at you, full of disappointment and shame as she looked away, a frown pursing her lips.

You recalled stiffening, grinding your teeth as your older sister simply smirked at you. Her (e/c) eyes silently rejoiced in seeing you in such a state. You could see it in the way she looked at you, staring triumphantly.

“Failure.”

“Troublemaker.”

“You’ve gone and shamed the family.”

“Seriously... I didn’t think you were this stupid.”

She said nothing, but her gloating aura, her simpering sneer, and the amused glint in her eyes spoke silent volumes for her.

Your little brother, however, was all but hanging over the seat he sat in, (e/c) eyes full of anxiety, worrying for you as he softly hissed, “(Y/n), it’ll be okay.”

Your father was as quiet as your mother and sister were, but like your brother, he was worried for you. Before you were called to stand, to accept whatever charge the judge deemed fit for you, he reached over and placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

“Don’t worry about a thing, sweetie. Everything will be okay. I’ve hired the best defence for you.”

“Will the defendant, (Y/n) (L/n), please rise?”

You complied, feeling your legs quivering like jelly as your hands became cold, clammy. Your breath hitched in your chest, and you swallowed a gulp that you swore was the size of a tennis ball. Silence reigned in the courtroom before the judge handed your sentence.

“The defendant, (Y/n) (L/n), is found to be guilty on the charge of assault.”

Your eyes widened as beads of sweat dripped down your forehead, your teeth bit down into the flesh of your lower lip. Your little brother had breathed a shocked gasp of, “No! My sister’s innocent!” as his eyes watered, tears threatening to spill over and down his cheeks.

He was promptly shushed by your mother, whose eyes you could feel glaring into your back.

“Huh?! Guilty?! But... Your Honour, all I did was-!”

“Please be silent, Miss (L/n), or you will be found to be in contempt of court.”

You grit your teeth, clenching a fist as you fell silent. The judge presiding over your case continued to speak.

“Henceforth, she will be sentenced to a year of probation. If she abides by the law by the year’s end, her probation will be lifted. Case dismissed.”

With a resounding bang of the gavel, you’d been escorted out of the courtroom by two officers. You were passed off into the custody of your family. You were immediately enveloped by your little brother, his small arms wrapping around your legs as your father rested a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“Come on, sweet pea. Let’s go home. I’ll make your favourite for dinner and dessert for tonight.”

“Tch.” Your sister scoffed once your parents and little brother walked ahead, hissing into your ear as she walked by you. “Daddy’s little girl... Can’t do anything wrong in his eyes, can you? You little bitch!”

Unfortunately, the first thing that welcomed you home wasn’t a warm, home-cooked meal, but a sudden, hard smack to the face by your mother. You recalled how your eyes widened as a sensation of shock washed over you. You remembered the echo of a sharp crack as skin met skin, as a vulnerable cheek met five fully flayed fingers, and an open palm. You recollected the sting as your cheek turned a blotchy pink, already feeling a bruise starting to form.

“Do you even realize what you’ve done, (Y/n)! What in God’s good name were you thinking?!”

“Mom, please, listen to me! I’m innocent!”

“Be quiet! I don’t want to hear any of your bullshit excuses, young lady!”

“Mom! Don’t hit (Y/n)!”

“Go upstairs! Now! (S/n), take (B/n) with you!”

Rounding back on you, your mother continued her angry tirade.

“Do you realize what will happen when word gets out?! My reputation! My career! Years... Years of hard work, gone, wasted! Because of you!”

You remembered how your little brother cried, struggled, and screamed as your older sister carried him upstairs, pausing long enough to give you a smirk.

You remembered how furious your father was as he came to your defence.

“(M/n), do not raise your hand to her again! She is our daughter! Our daughter!”

“We raised our daughter to be better than this, (F/n)! I thought we did, at least!”

Your mother’s enraged words cut into you deep, like a hot knife sliding through a stick of warm butter. To hear your mother say such things about you… Family members were supposed to stick together, support each other! ...Weren’t they?

“...Go tell (S/n) and (B/n) to wash up for dinner. We’ll discuss this before bed tonight.”

“Hmph.”

The telltale scuff-scuff of your mother’s slippers were heard as she made her way upstairs, to deliver the message your father had instructed her to give to your siblings. However, when his (e/c) eyes focused on you, and he raised a hand, you flinched.

You were expecting to be struck again, and you shut your eyes, bracing yourself for an incoming hit.

You missed the glint of pain in his gaze as you shied away from him.

You missed the hint of hurt in his (e/c) irises that you, his child, thought that he would strike you as well.

“...Open your eyes, (Y/n).”

“...Yes, Dad,” you murmured, breathing an exhale as you slowly, carefully opened your eyes. You were surprised when you felt your father resting a hand on your shoulder.

“Dad, I... You believe me, right? I’m... I’m sorry for troubling the family like this.”

“...No, don’t apologize. You did nothing wrong, honey. I know my baby girl would never attack someone mindlessly.”

“...What happens now?”

Your question earned a mournful look as your father breathed a sigh, raising his free hand and running his fingers through his (h/c) hair.

“...We received a call while you were in lock-up... From the principal. You’ve been expelled from your school.”

“What?!”

“And... Stipulations have been added to your sentence as well.”

“...’Stipulations’? Meaning... What, exactly?”

“You’ll be staying with someone your mother and I know for your probation period: Sojiro Sakura. He’s a bit of a hard-ass, but I’ve personally asked him to make sure you’ve got a bed and a roof over your head, at least.”

“...”

You said nothing, but the sour look on your face said it all for you.

“...I’m sorry, angel. I really am. I wish it didn’t have to be this way, but... A year will go by before you know it, and then you’ll be able to come home. Just... Please stay out of trouble, alright?”

“...Yes, Dad.”

“There’s my little girl. Now... Let’s not end the evening on a sour note. How about we get started on dinner and dessert, hm?”

Your father paused to spare your bruised cheek a look, his brows furrowing as he spotted the bright pink handprint that still marred your (s/c) cheek.

“...I’ll get some ice for that, sweetie. Come on.”

“Yes, Dad. Thank you.”

As you followed your father into the kitchen, your (e/c) irises darkened as you silently mulled over your current circumstances, furrowing your brows as you frowned.

OOC: So, like the idiot that I can be on occasion, I forgot to extend my heartfelt gratitude toward the anon who suggested this to begin with. The anon who “planted the seed” in this Barista’s brain, if you will.

Fear not, dear anon. I didn’t forget you, not for a second. Thus, I will wholeheartedly thank you now for suggesting this to begin with. Without your ingenious thought, this wouldn’t have been at all possible. So, again, this Barista thanks you from the bottom of her heart, dear anon!

Also, I was watching NicoB’s playthrough of Persona 5, watching the first episode of the animation, and reading the Persona 5 manga while writing this. I wasn’t sure which one to stick with, so I went with a mixture of the three. I hope that that’s fine with everybody.

Well, that’s enough rambling from me. Let us start the game, shall we? ☕

Part I is here: https://thehuggamugcafe.tumblr.com/post/174565496827/the-charlatan-transfer-student-i

Your eyes narrowed, a frown pursed your lips as your brows pinched the slant of your glaring gaze. Your hands curled to fists that shook, trembled with thinly contained anger in your lap as you breathed a sigh. You always got a bit fired up whenever you thought back to what transpired on that day...

Suddenly, the giggles of two teenagers caught your attention, their laughter breaking you from your gloomy thoughts. You blinked as you raised your head, pointing your glasses-framed (e/c) irises on the two teenagers. They were female, a year or two younger than you, and dressed in school uniforms.

“Huh? Are you for real? A mental shutdown?”

“It’s the truth!”

“To a person, though? That’s gotta be a joke,” one girl said, rolling her soft brown eyes heavenward as she added, “You really love all that occult stuff, don’t you?”

Typical. Don’t they have anything better to do but gossip? you muttered silently, distaste worming its way through every word, every syllable you quietly hissed.

You pursed your lips to a thin line, swallowing a particularly snarky comment as the girls shared one last giggle, resisting the temptation to roll your eyes. You settled for voicing a soft “tsk” as you rode the train to your destination.

Finally, the subway pulled to one of the stops you had to make on the way to your destination: Yongen-Jaya.

In what felt like no time at all, you found yourself surrounded by a literal pond of people: men, women, teenagers, and children. Advertisements for a variety of products, TV shows, movies, and news reports were displayed on large screens. Their comments and laughter rose up into the sunny atmosphere in a collective chorus, and you felt your eyes widening slightly.

“S-So many people,” you muttered, blinking owlishly.

“Ah!” you breathed, bringing your (e/c) gaze back down on your phone.

The GPS menu was displayed, having already put in directions to the café of your caretaker for the next year: Sojiro Sakura.

“Oh yeah... Um... It’s in Yongen-Jaya, right? ...Transfer from Shibuya Station to the... Denentoshi Line... Where is that? Is it around here...?”

Your gaze fell on an uniformed officer—and almost immediately, a chill danced up and down your spine.

Ever since that day, you felt somewhat anxious around police officers, whether they were in uniform or off-duty. In the here and now, whenever a cop’s stern glare fell on you, you’d always wonder to yourself...

If you’d wake up one morning, and find yourself surrounded by four walls.

If you’d wake up one morning, and feel the sensation of icy steel clamped around your wrists.

If you’d wake up one day and find yourself stared, pointed at, sneered at, and mocked for the rest of your days.

Tch! you seethed quietly, furrowing your brows slightly.

I should’ve known that my so-called “friends” wouldn’t associate with me anymore, either!

It was true. None of your friends, friends who had sworn to stick by your side through thick and thin, through the good times and the bad times, had shown up at the station to see you off. The only ones who even bothered to show up to see you off, to wish you well, and to promise to keep in touch with you at all through your probation period were your father and little brother.

“Don’t talk to me.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t hang out with you.”

“It’s been fun, (Y/n), but...”

“I’m sorry, but...”

“We can’t be friends anymore.”

“We just can’t, okay? Please understand.”

“You’ve been a great friend, but...”

For a moment, and only a moment, your posture stiffened, becoming as rigid and straight as a board, feeling your shoulders stiffening as a wave of strong irritation washed over you. Finally, you breathed in, slowly and deeply, releasing the breath in a whoosh of an exhale.

Suck it up, (Y/n)! you chided yourself, your heels clicking on the asphalt as you approached the officer.

Honestly, what’s the worst he could do? Tell you to get lost, nothing else.

“Excuse me, officer?”

The cop’s eyes fell on you, narrowing slightly as he gave you a quick once-over look out of suspicion before grunting out a, “Yeah?” in response to you addressing him.

“Where is the Denentoshi Line...?” you asked, holding up your cellphone as you voiced your question.

“Denentoshi Line...?” The officer glanced up from your phone, pointing on your left. “Go that way.”

“Thank you very much,” you said, lingering long enough to bow respectfully.

You took no more than a few steps before you paused, sparing a quick glance behind the stationary officer, spotting the caution tape that was stretched, connected to two poles.

A no trespassing line, huh?

Once again the heels of your shoes clicked over the street as you walked away from the officer, flicking a stare around you, over your shoulder. Your (e/c) irises silently ogled the occasional group of civilians here and there, usually with a uniformed officer in their midst, gesturing or asking them to move along.

Here too? you mused quietly, pursing your lips.

You breathed a hum as you exited the station, stepping out into the open streets of Tokyo.

Is Shibuya really that dangerous?

Your quiet curiosity remained as you blinked, standing in the midst of clusters upon clusters of people. The pond of citizens you stood in mere moments ago was a foreshadowing of being amongst an ocean of civilians. Your eyes widened as your mouth fell open, astounded by how many chattering men, women, teenagers, and children surrounded you.

“There’s... There’s so many people,” you muttered, realizing just how out-of-place you were.

You shook your head, shaking yourself free of the stupefied stupor that possessed you. You raised your phone to eye-level, your (e/c) gaze pointed straight at the illuminated screen.

“Oh yeah! The Denentoshi Line... Ah!”  

Unexpectedly, you stumbled forward a few steps as someone’s shoulder bumped into yours. Luckily, you steadied yourself before you were sent to the ground. That didn’t stop a fresh wave of irritation to hit you. It didn’t stop you from pointing a glare on the offending person.

It certainly didn’t stop you from snapping an irate, “hey!” to the young man as he walked by you.

The young man, a year or two younger than you, simply returned your annoyed scowl. He looked as though you had bumped into him, not the other way around.

For the second time in the time-frame of a few minutes, your lips pursed to a thin line as you frowned.

He bumped into me, and he didn’t say anything? Not even offered me an apology?

Your hand clutched the cellphone, furrowing your brows as you voiced a soft “tch!” of annoyance.

“Oh, so yesterday...”

“Really? Yikes. That’s tough. I feel bad for you, man.”

“I feel so sluggish. Tomorrow’s Sunday too. Monday’s going to be a pain in the ass.”

“Mom! You want a bite?”

“Hm?” you murmured, blinking owlishly as you stared at the screen of your phone as a notification tune played.

“What is this? It’s so creepy.”

“Ah!”

The surprised gasp of a child as her ice cream cone fell from her hand went unnoticed by you, too absorbed in what blinked back at you on your phone. An unusual app was displayed, bolstering of a red and black colour scheme, but what you found to be most unsettling about the app’s appearance was what appeared to be an eye in the middle, seeming to almost stare back at you.

“Weird... Did that bump make me press something I shouldn’t have?”

A bubble of confusion rose up inside you, a frown pursed your lips as you pressed a finger on the glowing screen. Frustrated, you pressed it a few more times, but it did nothing; the end result was a sore thumb and fresh annoyance.

“Seriously... What the hell is this...?” you asked, breathing a sigh.

“I have the feeling that’s what’s going on...”

The voice of a businessman caught your attention—or rather, his voice droning to a complete stop caught your attention.

“Tomorrow’s test is so...”

The voice of a high school student complaining to her friend also slowed to a halt.

Startled, you looked over your shoulder, watching as the girls’ steps became sluggish, as though they’d suddenly become mired in mud. Looking around, you realized that it wasn’t just the businessman or the high school girls who’d slowed to a stop, freezing altogether. In fact...

Everyone had stopped.

Awash in surprise and confusion, you looked around, but it didn’t matter. Everywhere you looked you saw life-like statues of what had been people chatting, laughing, and walking mere seconds ago.

“Huh?!” you breathed, shocked, confused, and...

Honestly, a bit terrified at what you were seeing.

“T-They all stopped...?” you stuttered, your face paling in surprise.

And yet... And yet...

The hairs rose on the back of your neck, and your forearms quivered with a similar feeling of gooseflesh.

You were being watched.

You turned on your heels, locking a stare on what appeared to be... flames. The fire was bluish-white in hue, flickering sporadically before it burst to life. It touched concrete, shone against glass, and yet whatever it touched, it remained unaffected. The fire took on an unidentifiable form, flaring out at the edges as reddish-orange appeared in what could pass for a face, grinning fiendishly.

“That’s...”

Only for it to become your face.

“Me...?”

Indeed, your visage stared back at you amidst the blue-white fire, a fiendish smile curling lips that were very similar to your own, but... You would never grin, smile, or smirk so dangerously, and... More importantly, above everything else...

In place of (e/c) irises were eyes that shone with a golden hue, strangely complimenting the devilish sneer that curled your doppelgänger’s lips. The ‘you’ who watched you gripped what appeared to be a mask in ‘her’ hands, wrapped in the glowing bluish-white flames just as ‘she’ was.

A chilling chuckle left ‘her’ lips, the marigold irises glinting maniacally as you blinked...

She was gone.

“...What the...?”

“By the way...”

“Wahhh! Mommy!”

The distressed cries of a little girl caught your attention, staring at her as her brown eyes welled up with tears. Her ice cream cone hit the ground with a soft splat noise, the cone crumbling at the edges. The life-like statues, the people that surrounded you resumed their previous activities. They, talked, laughed, complained, and they walked, ran, drove, or sped past you on bicycles.

“Hush, now. I’ll buy you another one,” the mother said, reassuring her sniffling daughter.

“Where were you yesterday?”

“He said that? Really?”

“Heh? That’s new...”

“Seriously? I mean...”

They’re all moving again? you thought, blinking owlishly as you looked around.

“Huh... Was it just my imagination...?”

Frowning, you spared a glance down at the screen of your cellphone. The app was still there.

“...Yeah. That’s got to be it,” you muttered, pressing and holding your index finger on the blinking red and black app.

A trash bin icon popped up as the blinking app was dragged down, disappearing from your sight. Your eyes widened as the current time glared back at you in (f/c) digital numbers: 16:45.

“It’s this late already?!” you gasped, turning on your heels and running from the clusters of citizens.

To you, it seemed as though someone had pressed a fast forward button on the world, but you soon found yourself standing in front of a coffee shop in a back alley.

“Café Leblanc... This must be it,” you said, breathing in as you steadied yourself.

A slim, feminine hand reached for the café’s latch, pulling down on it and tugging the café’s door open. A small golden bell above the entrance jingled merrily as you stepped inside, signaling your arrival—and almost immediately, the scent of brewing coffee made its aroma known to you.

“A public transit bus was driven down an opposing line with its customers still in it! The citizens can’t live in peace if this keeps up!”

The voice of a tabloid show host announced the news through a TV screen fixed into the wall, near the service counter. The TV host’s monotone voice resulted in you managing to resist the urge to roll your eyes heavenward, if only slightly.

“How frightening,” an elderly man said, shaking his head as he talked.

“What could be going on? Didn’t something similar happen just the other day?”

An elderly woman sat across from him, tossing in her thoughts as well. They were most likely husband and wife.

“Vertical is... The name of a shellfish used for farming pearls...”

The second man’s voice caught your attention, staring at a man who sat in one of the stools. He appeared to be middle-aged, black hair that was slicked-back with a receding hairline, gray eyes, a chinstrap beard with a goatee that flared out, and glasses sat on his nose. He wore a pale pink dress shirt with rolled up sleeves, a black apron with a white pinstripe design, pale khakis held up by a white leather belt, and white loafers completed his appearance.

After a short pause he glanced up, fixing a stare on you.

“...Oh, right,” he said, pausing to set the crossword puzzle and pencil aside on the service counter.

“They did say that was today.”

“We’ll be going now. The payment’s on the table,” the elderly man said, standing up along with his wife.

“Thanks for coming.”

“This place is in the back alley, so there’s no chance of a car crashing in here.”

The older man let out a soft, wheezy laugh, as though he had said something particularly funny.

“A what now?”

“There’s been a string of those rampage accidents, you know. I just hope that none happen around here.”

“It’s none of my concern.”

Your brows furrowed slightly at the bearded man’s cold attitude. Just what sort of acquaintance was this man to your parents?

“Haha, we’ll see you next time.”

You moved to give the elderly couple enough room to move, watching them over your shoulder as they exited the small café. The telltale jingle of the small bell above the entrance was heard as the door shut behind them.

A soft “tsk” of annoyance made you look back at the middle-aged man.

“...Four hours for a single cup of joe,” he muttered to himself, raising a hand to scratch the back of his head. His voice spoke volumes of his annoyance.

“I was wondering what kind of unruly kid would show up, but you’re the one, huh?”

You stared at the gray-eyed, middle-aged owner, blinking owlishly.

“I’m (Y/n) (L/n),” you said, pausing to bow respectfully before adding, “I appreciate this, sir.”

The man raised his eyebrows, lazily drawling out a “heh” in response to your greeting. He seemed to be surprised by your display of manners.

“So, you’re (Y/n)?”

You straightened your posture, nodding once. A smile quirked the corner of his lips.