Chapter Text
Saturday, 7/9/20XX, Evening
Leblanc
Leblanc is quiet at this time of night. Just an hour before closing, many of its would-be customers found other restaurants and cafes around Shibuya to be far more suited to their tastes. Still, the silence is homey, calling to mind its original purpose—to serve as a haven for anyone who walked through its doors.
The smell of coffee pervades the air, accompanied by the quiet dripping of boiling water as the coffee machines fall into stillness. Next to the door, surrounded by world-weary wood and warm lighting, hangs a painting of a serene, beautiful woman looking down with love at the babe in her arms. Outside, the darkness settles, wiping away the energy of the afternoon and letting Yongen-Jaya slip into lethargy.
The near silence is comforting to one Miyamoto Reina, as she can enjoy her coffee and read her book without paying much mind to the hustle and bustle of daily life. She brushes a strand of long, thick, dark brown hair behind her ear absentmindedly as it falls in front of her face, carefully manicured fingers twirling the ends and coming to rest on a page.
She takes a sip from her cup—Colombia Nariño, that name familiar from many evenings spent with it—and uses that as an excuse to look around the cafe. She makes eye contact with the older man standing behind the countertop: Sakura Sojiro, affectionately called Boss by herself and many others who came through the entrance. Despite his frail stance and the wrinkles lining his face, there is a quiet wisdom and an even quieter grief lingering in his eyes as he stares down at a glass, cleaning it with an expert motion that leaves it sparkling with two quick wipes.
She sets her book down as Boss comes meandering over. “How do you like the coffee, Miya-chan?”
“Excellent as usual, Boss.” She sucks in a breath. Despite having lived in Japan since April, and having been exposed to Japanese since she was a young girl (courtesy of her mother, a Japanese immigrant who moved to Colombia after marrying her father,) the particularities of pronunciation and vocabulary still leave her standing on unsteady ground. At school, she would catch some more ruthless classmates snickering when she used an odd synonym or stumbled over harder words. It should just be an area of improvement, but it is not as simple as that when it was yet another thing that marked her as a gaijin , a foreigner.
Thankfully, all Boss does is nod with a calm smile. “I had a friend who liked that exact blend,” he says. He cleans the last glass a little rougher than the others, and Reina is fearful that he might shatter it through brute strength alone. “She refused to ever let me make it for her, though.”
Reina swirls the coffee in her cup, watching the dregs rise to the top before settling back down. “I used to never like coffee before coming here,” she admits. It brings too many memories, of cold coffee lingering on the dinner table, of a maid setting an impersonal mug down in front of Reina without asking for her input. But now, far away from Colombia and in this safe haven, she finds herself appreciating the taste and the comforting warmth.
Boss chuckles and reaches for the now-empty cup. “Really now? I wouldn’t know if you hadn’t told me.”
“I am a girl full of surprises,” she says as she resumes reading her book. It is a Spanish to Japanese translation of a history book written about La Pola, a Colombian heroine whose story Reina fell in love with the moment she first learned about it. Even now, as she traces the kanji with her finger and reads the Spanish next to it, she feels that familiar yet small fire burning in her stomach: a desire for courage, to be something more than she is, and most of all to break free.
To think these things as a heiress of a multi-million peso company is something profoundly selfish. It is with reluctance that she quiets the fire, which proves difficult the more she reads. The words jump to life in front of her eyes, La Pola infiltrating the homes of royalists and officers as a seamstress to eavesdrop on conversations. She finds herself desperately wishing to live like La Pola, helping the oppressed fight, and warring against conformity and violence.
But no, that is impossible. She scoffs at her childish ambitions and turns the page.
In the back, the only other customer rises from his booth and makes his way to the counter. He puts his payment on the countertop and tips his hat to Boss, but not without a cursory glance at Reina that morphs into a stare. She barely hides a groan of disgust, predicting one of two events.
“Aren’t you a sweet little thing?” he asks. Although Reina tries her best to focus on the book, she sees his eyes flicker down to her barely visible thighs, courtesy of those asinine school uniforms required by Shujin. Out of the corner of her eye, Boss tenses and glances at the man as he slowly sets a clean plate down. “Someone like you could get hurt, walking around these streets at this time of night. Would you like some company to the station?”
Someone like you. Foreigner. Dirty. Mixed.
Reina catches her composure before it shatters, before she can tell him the deepest, darkest things going through her head. Instead, she barely reacts, looking at him over her shoulder with a finger marking where she had left off.
Be strong.
It is a new voice, speaking in unaccented Spanish unlike her mother’s, yet not as masculine as her father’s. The unknown familiarity of it makes her steel her nerves.
“Hey, are you causing her—“
“No, thank you,” she says, cutting off Boss’ well-meaning intervention. Boss stops mid sentence and looks at her with a strangle light in his eyes. “I am well aware of these…streets.” She pauses, playing into her foreign Japanese. If her naturally tan skin was not an indication, she hopes this will be enough of a hint. “How do I know you are not one of those people?”
The man wavers. Obviously, he had never been called out, which makes Reina wonder if he is truly sleazy or simply misguided. “Well…if you ever need a guide, I come here often.”
Reina gives him a polite smile. “Lo siento, pero no necesito ayuda de alguien como usted.”
It is enough to drive him off. Reina forces herself to retain her posture, and she lifts her book to her face to act as if nothing had happened. Still, despite her best attempts, that fire in her stomach rages into a wildfire, anger clouding her thoughts, and she whispers a word under her breath—
— “Scum.” —
—that rises deep from somewhere inside her, a place she did not even know existed.
Boss’ movements still, and they make eye contact. Reina puts up a blank mask, knowing that she cannot say anything that will convince Boss he had not heard anything. Underneath, fear quickly takes over, worry that Boss will think ill of her or tell his daughter or worse yet Tío and what will happen if something gets out that the dirty gaijin is worse than everyone had thought—
She catches the runaway train before it plummets off a cliff. Boss had moved away from what happened, coming around the countertop. “So, staying for a few more minutes? Not sure if there’s much else for you to do once I leave.”
Those two sentences are enough for Reina to calm down. She gathers her things by way of answer and takes a look down at her phone. Light floods the darkness in her head as she reads Haru’s name on the screen.
Just before she reads the message, Boss welcomes another person in. She looks up and smiles at the sight of Hayashi-san, the old man that owns an electronics store down the street from Tío Hajime’s apartment.
‘“Hey, Boss!” Hayashi-san looks at her and smiles. “And Miya-chan. How’s Miyamoto-san doing?”
“He is well, thank you,” she replies. “Is your business doing well?”
He gives a hearty laugh, shifting his weight off his left leg and leaning into the cane he carries with him. “As well as it can. That big company…Hayato Tech…they’ve taken a lot of customers. Maybe I should try and ask the Phantom Thieves for some help!”
She hopes no one else notices the way her mask crumbles at the mention of the company, nor the way she tries to build it back up while Hayashi-san is not looking.
Boss moves to stand between her and Hayashi-san and begins cleaning the countertop. “You actually believe in that Phantom Thief nonsense?”
Hayashi-san cups his chin. “Well, I heard from Yuki-chan—Miya-chan, have you been talking to her a lot lately?—that there was quite a stir at Shujin. Apparently, some kids had a complete personality switch, apologizing for actions that had been going on for quite some time. Not to mention, with what happened with the mysterious disappearance of all those yakuza thugs in Shibuya, and the Madarame fellow, plus the volleyball coach…I’d say that we may have some heroes in our midst.”
“I don’t know about heroes,” Boss says. “Who knows how they’re changing hearts? Unless you want something bad to happen to that Hayato Tech owner, maybe it’s better to leave it to the law. Pray that he’s embezzling funds or something.”
“I would not be so confident in the law,” Reina murmurs.
Hayashi-san and Boss exchange surprised looks at Reina’s unexpected contribution to the conversation. Reina’s breath catches in her throat as she realizes what she said. It is hard not to blurt it out, though, considering how useless they had been with…
She gets up. “Thank you for the coffee. Hayashi-san, Boss, I will send my uncle your way sometime.”
Hayashi-san is convinced and pats Reina on the shoulder, but she knows Boss is suspicious, as his eyes linger on her. Either way, he lets her leave with a good night and a hope for her safety, and she bows one last time before going through the door.
She runs into a boy that is around her age, with fluffy black hair, glasses, and a cat peeking his head out from the boy’s bag. Reina gives him a stiff smile, knowing that he is Boss’s charge but little else. She hopes he will not try to talk to her.
To her relief, he simply returns her smile, albeit more natural than her own, and begins walking past her. The cat comes out of the bag and stares at her with curious blue eyes. Her heart melts; there is no way she can resist the temptation.
“May I?”
The cat yowls. The boy’s smile turns into more of a mischievous smirk as he turns and offers the bag to her. She reaches out and strokes the cat’s head, that distant darkness in the back of her head fading to a slight murmur as she scratches under his chin and feels him rumble like a tiny engine in between protesting meows.
“He cannot seem to make up his mind,” she notes.
“He usually can’t,” the boy agrees with a light laugh. “Do you come here often?”
She nods. So often that she is almost as familiar with Leblanc as she is at Tío's home. “I am surprised we have not met properly sooner.”
“Me, too. I guess avoiding me comes naturally for a lot of students at Shujin.”
It is a joke, but he means it. There is something fiery behind his eyes, a burning something that is uncomfortable to look at. In the back of her mind, she swears that something begins to break, glass falling down like rain from a stress fracture. It makes that fire in her stomach want to ignite, but with a feeling of distinct nausea, she pushes it back down. The cat meows questioningly, blue eyes a little too human.
“I do not mind many rumors.” Reina gives him a half-smile. “After all, it would be hypocritical of me to do so.”
An understanding blossoms between them as she drops her hand away from the cat’s head. Something
shatters. It is painful, and a headache stretches across the front of her forehead. She does not want to think about it.
Instead, they both look up to the sky, watching as the wispy clouds roll over a smattering of barely-visible stars.
“Do you need someone to walk you to the station?”
Unlike that sleazy man, this is a genuine question filled with concern. “No, I will be okay,” she replies regardless, wanting to respond to Haru without worrying about entertaining someone else’s company. “Thank you…?”
“Kurusu. Kurusu Akira.” He bows deeply to her, and she gives him a slightly shallower bow. “There’s no need to add honorifics, by the way. If Morgana likes you, then I like you, too.”
“How kind. My name is Miyamoto Reina, but people call me Miya.”
“Alright then, Miya. I’ll see you around.”
As Kurusu turns to head inside, Morgana pokes his head back out from the bag and meows in bursts that sound like he is trying to form sentences. Kurusu looks down and mutters back, something resembling a conversation playing out between them.
Reina decides not to comment on it and begins walking away from Leblanc. She looks down at her phone and finally reads Haru’s message.
Haru [19:33]: Reina-chan! I’ve missed your company tonight.
Reina [19:49]: My apologies, Haru-chan. I had some things to do.
Haru [19:50]: Oh, it’s quite alright. I hope you’ve been well.
Haru [19:52]: Would you like to call later tonight and work on our English assignment together? Obayashi-san would like them turned in first thing Monday morning.
Reina [19:54]: As if I could ever turn down more time spent with you.
Haru [19:55]: Reina-chan, I enjoy spending time with you, too!
A grin works across her face, and she barely notices a thing between stepping out into Central Square and getting on the subway. The entire way back to the apartment, she texts Haru, trying to ignore the ways that people stare at her, how her mind tries to wander toward darker directions.
What would have happened if she had been born to a family whose influence only stretched to the borders of Medellín, Colombia.
Then, would she have ever come to Japan? Would she have been happy and content? Would her parents have encouraged her to be assertive and outspoken, to be both seen and heard?
She closes her eyes and rests her head against the window of the train. There is no reason to focus on the past. She knows deep down that, if she had been given another chance, she would have…would not have…
There is no reason to focus on the past.
Saturday, 7/9/20XX, Evening
Miyamoto Residence
A sigh of relief escapes Reina's lips as she makes it to the gate surrounding her Tío Hajime’s home. It is quaint, the perfect size for two people. He had never married, never expressed any desire to share his life with someone else, so in actuality, the house may have been too big for his needs. It is a change of pace from the sprawling mansion her parents had constructed from the ground up, from the remains of some other multi million-peso home they had not liked the look of.
Reina had asked him once why he did not live in one of those high rise penthouses like some of the other principal players in the Tokyo Philharmonic. Back then, he had not given her a straight answer
(she remembered it being vague, something about not enjoying that kind of lifestyle)
but now, staring up at the house, the relief fades into a nasty gut-twisting feeling that makes her feel like she is going to throw up. She tries her best to shove the sensation down to the deepest recesses of her body, but even then, anger makes her shoulders rise up toward her ears. She takes a deep breath to compose herself and steps forward to unlock the gate, the paint faded around the handle. Even from here, she can hear the faint singing of Tío's violin within the walls, playing something that she cannot place but is beautiful regardless.
The front of her head aches yet again, a stripe of pain racing horizontally above her eyebrows. She winces and rubs the spot. Maybe it is the amount of English homework that Obayashi-sensei always assigns, no matter the day of the week. It is a wonder Reina had not snapped from the combined stress of polishing her Japanese and having to learn a whole new language. She feels like she is close sometimes...
Pushing that thought aside, she opens the door. At the sound, the violin stops, and she almost wishes she had waited for longer. However, the look on Tío’s face—a dawning realization that morphs into a lovingly excited expression—as he sees her in the doorway makes her feel less terrible about interrupting his beautiful playing.
"Reina!"
A strangled grunt escapes her lips as he grapples her in a hug. "Must you do that every time I come home from school?" She tries to sound annoyed, but it is comforting, coming home to such unadulterated joy instead of the cold formality she is accustomed to with her home.
(She thinks, briefly, about the one time she had tried to hug her mother when she came home from work. One of their chairmen had been with her. Her heart still stings at the memory of her mother holding her at literal arm’s distance.)
"Of course! I want to give you a reason to stay, besides the mentorship with President Okumura," he teases. Her heart stumbles at the mention of Haru's father; she had completely forgotten to send a letter to her parents this week. They expect bi-weekly updates regarding her progress with shadowing Okumura-san’s business, and her time is running out. It is a good thing she is calling Haru tonight. "How was school? Anything interesting happen?"
As he talks, he makes his way into the kitchen. She follows along, dropping her backpack onto the couch as she passes it. The living room is moderately spacious, taken up by a beige, suede futon that is well-loved with scratches from the cats Tío used to own. Two mismatched armchairs (one bought from the furniture store, the other given to him by his best friend in the Philharmonic) and a coffee table he had varnished himself face away from the door and toward a television hanging on the wall. There is so much room, yet none at all; it is the epitome of loved.
Even with that space, though, the papers on the coffee table, all stamped with the same return address, seem to take up the most room.
She turns away from the table and makes her way over to Tío, who is bent over and looking through one of the cabinets. "It was school. Same biased teachers, same gossiping students."
He stills in his movements, the clamor of pots and pans quieting as he looks over his shoulder. Reina forgets how old he actually is—he is in his late forties, a couple years older than Reina’s mother—until she sees the world-weary look in his eyes. He acts like a teenager with the wisdom of someone far older. "You know not to listen to whatever they say, right?"
"Yes."
"What about that counselor you mentioned the other day, have you decided to give him a try?"
"I think therapy is one of the last things I should be worrying about."
He sets a wok on the stove and waves a wooden spoon at her. "Don't discount the importance of your mental health. As a third year student, you need to get to the finish line instead of burning out halfway through the year. You don't want to overload yourself with stress before you get the chance to follow in your parents' footsteps, right?"
Even though she has heard this point countless times, she still has yet to find a proper retort. "I suppose," she relents. "I probably will not try it."
He gives her a playful scowl and shakes his head. "You're going to be the death of me."
"I will probably be the death of many people."
His laughter fills the kitchen, and for a second, Reina is convinced that tonight will be normal. She will help him out with dinner, which looks like it is turning out to be some kind of stir fry—a staple in the Miyamoto household. While they eat, they will talk about her parents and Ortiz Technology, her parents' multinational, very successful business. After cleaning up, maybe Tío will show her the unknown piece he had been playing. Maybe Reina will be successful once more in pushing down that side of her that yearns to give up completely on the business and follow in his footsteps instead.
Just as she convinces herself, though, the phone rings on the wall. The peaceful expression on Tío’s face falls into dread, but upon remembering that Reina is in the kitchen with him, he quickly recomposes himself and smiles.
"Oh, I'm sure it's just Ren. He's been dying to know when we can go out for drinks again."
Ren, the Philharmonic’s pianist, the one who had given Tío that armchair that stands out with its well-worn leather, never calls on the landline. He calls often; every single time, it is a cell phone that rings, not the phone sitting on the wall.
"Reina, go get changed. You look uncomfortable in your school uniform. That collar's going to choke you."
She cannot move. The phone's ringing feels like it is filling her entire head. Her stomach feels hot and cold at the same time, searing rage making her blood boil and icy fear keeping her where she stands. She wants to stand up for them, but what can she do—not just out of fear for Tío’s safety, but out of an incessant fear for herself?
"Reina, go.”
Tío puts his hand on her back and steers her out of the kitchen. The moment her feet cross from kitchen tile to wood floors, she grabs her bag and hurries to her bedroom. She quickly changes, tossing on her pajamas in record time, and presses her ear against the door, hoping to catch the tail end of Tío's conversation.
"...gave you the payment for this month. It was even early this time, and it covered everything that I didn't pay from last—" He takes in a deep breath and curses under his breath. "No, I'm not trying...Dammit, Iwakawa, will you really leave me with nothing? I have someone I need to take care of...!" Something slams down on the countertop. His breath heaves. "Okay. Okay, I get it. I'll be there as soon as I can."
He tosses the phone back onto the holder. He takes long strides to Reina's bedroom, and she hops back to avoid the door as it swings open, not bothering to pretend like she is innocent. Tío has such an annoying ability to see right through her lies, and with something like this, she is not sure if she can find it in herself to.
"Can you make yourself dinner? Something...came up, and I won't be able to eat with you tonight. Everything's already set out, just make sure you do it the Miyamoto way."
Reina grabs onto Tío's jacket sleeve. She feels like a scared child. "What does he want now?"
Tío pinches the bridge of his nose. Much like how she can never lie to him, he has a hard time doing the same to her. "The same thing as always. You know the drill, right?"
His voice is devoid of emotion; to a casual listener, it might even sound like he is talking about something mundane, telling Reina to do her chores or check up on a friend. She hates that this is considered normal for them, but really, what can she even hope to do? "Lock the doors, do not answer the landline, and always carry my phone with me."
"Good. And if you get scared, I know you can run fast enough to Hayashi-san's home." He stares at her for a few seconds before taking her into a hug. It is not extraordinary—he is an affectionate person, after all, and Reina has to admit that he gives really good hugs—but the way his hands bunch up the back of Reina's t-shirt makes her wonder if something else is going on. "It's extra important for you to follow all of that tonight. I can't explain everything right now, but trust me when I say I'm trying my best, and...and that I'll explain it someday."
She holds onto him as well, only letting go when he gently moves her arms away from him. "Be safe," she says, getting tongue-tied. "Do not be stupid."
"You know me," he replies with a tired smile. "Only the best for my little Reina."
The moment he leaves, Reina turns and presses her back against the door. She fumbles for her phone, almost dropping it as she dials Haru's phone number from memory and lifts it to her ear.
Haru picks up almost immediately, her voice pushing all of Reina’s worries to the back of her mind. "Reina-chan! I was beginning to get worried that you would never call. That English homework will not finish itself."
Reina manages a quiet laugh. She opens her bedroom door and sees the unfinished dinner sitting in the wok, in danger of being burned from Tío forgetting to turn off the stove before he left. "Nor will my dinner. Will you mind if I am a little distracted? I need to finish cooking."
"Oh, not at all!" Papers rustle on the other side of the call, and Haru lets out a little "oomph!" as she sits down. "Actually, I need to finish the conjugations that come before our assignment. I can work on those while you cook and eat so we'll both have our full focus!"
"That sounds wonderful."
Reina and Haru fall into a comfortable silence as Reina tosses the rest of the vegetables into the wok. Questions and topics fill her head, but she is so worried about breaking Haru's concentration that Reina does not voice any of them. There is a time and place; English homework is not one of them.
Finally, after a long while of eating and doing their homework, Haru yawns. "Whew! That feels rather nice, doesn't it?"
Reina has to agree. With no homework left for tomorrow, her Sunday can be better spent resting and getting ready for the upcoming school week. "Thank you for being such a good study partner, Haru-chan."
"The same to you." Haru stifles another yawn and grunts, a flurry of pops filling the silence. "Is there anything you would like to talk about before we go to bed for the evening?"
She thinks about it. All of those topics that had come to mind earlier have fled, replaced with a growing unease as she realizes how she has yet to receive any updates from Tío. She does not want to keep Haru up, but at the same time, she cannot see herself falling asleep alone.
"Actually...may we stay up together until my uncle comes home? He has been out for a while now, and I usually would not worry, but it is quite late."
"That's perfectly fine," Haru reassures her. Reina feels silly for even asking. Since they had been introduced to each other by Okumura-san, Haru has never let her feel like she is alone in this world. “Would you like to spend the time in silence?"
Her eyes wander around the room and finally settle on her violin, sitting in its case and resting against the foot of her bed. Her mouth runs dry, and she tries to look away from it. "Haru-chan, I need to send a letter home to my parents by tomorrow at the latest."
"I completely forgot about that," she said with surprise in her voice. "You need not worry. We can come up with something to tell your parents tomorrow, alright?"
She nods without saying anything back. She cannot take her eyes off the violin. It is something that is just a hobby, just something to ease her stress while she focuses on her academic duties and her role as an heiress to her family's company.
(She ignores how the violin has become a symbol of rebellion, too.)
(The days she has spent playing it when her parents are not home. They believe she stopped a long time ago.)
And yet...
How would it feel to do something for yourself?
That familiar voice returns, a little stronger than it had been before. Newfound courage races through her body, a kindling strength that the more rational side of her tries to quell at any cost. Her mother cannot see her here. But if she does find out…
"Reina-chan? Is everything alright?"
She takes a deep breath. "Would you mind if I played a little violin for us?"
In the back of her mind, a rattling sound like chains breaking fills the uneasy silence. She swears she sees a flash of blue flames, a shape like a mask flitting in the darkness accompanied by a woman’s laugh.
Haru lets out a gasp of delight. “Of course not! Reina-chan, you know I adore your playing."
Funnily enough, despite her trepidation, that is all the reassurance she needs to unlock the case, pull her violin out, and let her worries fade fully into the background as she prepares her violin and begins playing.