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For once, Shirazu and Saiko are early.
Shirazu. And Saiko.
Maybe they aren’t early, Haise thinks uneasily. Maybe he’s really late.
“Good morning,” Haise calls, sitting down at the table. “What time was the meeting?”
Shirazu checks his phone. “Um, it’s in fifteen minutes.” He looks at his phone again. “Um, well, more like thirteen minutes.”
“Just do it already,” Saiko groans. “Look, now you’ve wasted so much time that you’re gonna have to do it with Maman watching.”
“That’s not my fault! You suck at encouraging!”
“What is it you’re trying to do?” Haise asks. Saiko looks at Shirazu expectantly, but Shirazu just swallows and loosens the collar of his shirt. He stares into space, left eye twitching.
“Oh, no, looks like your time is up,” Saiko mutters. “She’s coming over.” She omits the fact that her hand is raised and waving at the service counter behind Shirazu’s back.
“F-Fine,” he bursts, and reaches down beneath the table. Something rustles as he struggles with it, and his face gets red as the barista — their usual one — approaches their table. Shirazu curses beneath his breath.
“Good morning,” she says, with a slight bow, and Haise smiles at her. Having the opportunity to interact with her is his favorite part of the meetings that he holds here.
“Good —” Haise starts, and then is interrupted, by the sudden appearance of a bouquet of flowers whose petals are flying everywhere. Shirazu has stood up, chair screeching.
“F-f-for you!” Shirazu exclaims, so loudly that everyone in :re turns around to stare. The red on Shirazu’s face extends to his ears. The barista blinks.
And then extends her hand to take the flowers.
“Thank you,” she says. “That’s…so kind of you.”
Shirazu stares. Saiko prods him, in a monotone.
“Do your best, yeah, go Shiragin go.”
“M-my name is Shirazu Ginshi!” Shirazu bows, stuff but deep. “P-pleased to meet you!”
People in the cafe laugh, not unkindly. The barista blinks, startled.
And then she smiles and bows back. “Hello, Shirazu Ginshi-san. My name is Kirishima Touka.”
She straightens and looks around their table, meeting their eyes briefly in turn. Haise thinks, I should introduce myself too, but for some reason, he can’t move. For some reason, he can barely breathe.
For some reason, he feels…irritated.
Shirazu doesn’t deserve to be squad leader, mutters a voice in his head. Each syllable skitters with the sound of insect legs.
Calm down, Haise thinks, fiercely. Calm down.
“The usual for you, Shirazu-san?” Kirishima asks, and Shirazu says, “U-um! Yes!”
“How about for the two of you?” she asks.
“My usual too. An Americano,” Haise supplies, when she just stares. “With…with no room.”
Calm down, he repeats, with a deep breath.
She nods, and returns to the service counter.
“How was that?” Shirazu asks. “Was it good?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Saiko says. “S-rank. Perfect.” She roots around her jacket for her handheld, which comes out alongside a couple loose noodle snacks.
“What do you think, Sassan?” Shirazu asks. “I wasn’t too embarrassing, right? Do you think she thought I was too embarrassing?”
No, is what Haise should say. You did fine.
But what he hears coming out of his mouth is: “I’m not sure. I wouldn’t get my hopes up.”
“Ah…yeah,” Shirazu says. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s kind of hard to date anyway, as an investigator, right?”
“Yeah,” Haise says, nodding encouragingly. “It’s difficult. So, don’t feel bad if she —”
“Here you go,” Kirishima says, and they jerk up as she sets their drinks down in front of them. Shirazu’s latte is last.
“A special one,” she says, “for you.”
There’s a rabbit shaped onto the coffee foam. Shirazu beams. Beneath the table, Haise rubs the joint of his index finger against his thumb. He doesn’t crack it, but comes close.
:::
The whole afternoon, the only thing that Haise can think is, I saw her first.
He’s the one that knew the coffee would be so good here, the one that comes in on his own to spend time in :re, the one who for whom Kirishima is the most beautiful person in the world.
He saw her first. And if he’d had even one inkling that one of his own subordinates would have interest in her, he would have…would have something.
And now Shirazu can’t shut up about her.
“I saw her just the other day at the hospital and decided it might be good for me to introduce myself. She has such a terrific smile. And she remembered my order! And drew this really cute latte art on it!” Shirazu holds his phone out to Mutsuki until Mutsuki takes it.
“Cute,” Mutsuki agrees, handing the phone back with a nod.
“Right?” Shirazu jams his phone in Urie’s face. “You next, Urie, look!”
Urie squints. “It looks like shit.”
Shirazu clutches his phone back, then frowns at the screen. “I probably should have taken the picture before I started drinking,” he admits. “The point is, I think Touka-chan really likes me.”
“’T-Touka-chan?’” Haise echoes in a strained voice. “You’re calling her that already? Have you…seen her? Since the last meeting? You’re that close already?”
“Uh, well, no.” Shirazu coughs. “But! I think I’m gonna ask her to a date soon. Maybe at our next meeting.”
Kirishima Touka. On a date with Shirazu. Kirishima Touka’s smile, aimed at Shirazu. Kirishima Touka’s fingers interlinked, with Shirazu’s.
Over my dead body, hisses the voice in Haise’s head. Haise swallows and clears his throat.
“A-about that. About our next meeting, I mean. I was thinking that — that maybe we should go somewhere else.”
“Huh?!” Shirazu yells. “Why?”
“I — I don’t know, maybe just — as a change of pace.”
“But that cafe’s great! C’mon, Sassan, didn’t you make me the leader?”
“Well — y-yes, but —“
“As the leader, I want the meeting to be at :re!”
Tell him, the voice growls. Tell him to go and die.
“No,” Haise snaps. He stiffens. “I, um…I mean…that wasn’t for you, it was…ah…”
The three of them stare.
“Is…everything okay, sir?” Mutsuki asks.
“Everything’s fine,” Haise says, but his voice is too fast, and the laugh that he adds too weak. Mutsuki is staring at him worriedly, and Shirazu looks bewildered, and Urie has removed a headphone and is eyeing Haise suspiciously, and even Saiko has looked up from the game on her phone.
“Okay,” Haise says hastily. “Okay, fine. We’ll keep the next meeting at :re.”
I’ll just be there tomorrow, he thinks. Early enough to have some time with Kirishima, maybe early enough to have formal introductions and invite her to dinner before Shirazu gets the chance.
He plans to make it to :re just before it opens. When he arrives, he’s shocked to find that everyone is already there.
Everyone.
“Wow, Sassan too?” Shirazu exclaims. “What a coincidence!”
“Haha,” Haise says weakly. “What…what are you all doing here?”
“Well, I thought I might try and chat with Touka-chan before it gets busy,” Shirazu answers.
“I just wanted a coffee,” Urie says, but the glance he makes in Haise’s direction tells him that he knows something is up.
“I really just wanted a coffee too,” Mutsuki says, smiling.
“There are some good light novels here,” Saiko mutters over the screeches and crashes coming from her game. “And Touka-chan said I can come read them whenever.”
She’s calling her ‘Touka-chan’ too? the voice says in surprise.
“S-since when?” Haise asks. “I mean — I mean, since when were you calling her ‘Touka-chan?’”
Saiko shrugs. “Since Touka-chan said it was okay.”
“That’s correct,” says a bright voice, and everyone stiffens. Kirishima is at the cafe door, smiling. “Thank you all for waiting. The cafe is open now. Please come in and have a seat.”
She holds the door for them as they shuffle in.
“How was the book that I recommended?” Kirishima asks, and Saiko bobs her head.
“It was great. A good introduction to the Kerbal universe.”
“My favorite was the backstory of the teacher. What did you think of that one?”
“Oh, yeah, that was good.”
“If you want some more, you can come over to my apartment sometime. Maybe we can play some games together.”
Hey, Haise. Maybe you should play those games too, the voice suggests.
Maybe I should, Haise agrees warily.
Getting them all would be expensive, but…Saiko loves you, the voice points out airily. I bet her will leaves all her games to you. Then you can mourn her with Touka-chan, too.
Stop, Haise thinks firmly. The voice huffs.
Everyone wordlessly takes their usual seats. Shirazu tenses palpably as he sits down and immediately starts fiddling with a flyer on the table.
“Can I get anything started for you?” Kirishima asks.
“M-my usual!” Shirazu stammers, and she nods.
“The usual for all of us, probably,” Haise coughs.
“Of course, of course.” Kirishima retrieves a paper pad and a pen from her apron. “So that’s a mocha for Saiko-chan, lattes for Shirazu-san and Urie-san, a cappuccino for Mutsuki-san…and…I’m sorry, sensei, what was yours again?”
“An Americano,” Haise mutters. “With…with no room.”
“Oh, of course. Please excuse me, then.”
She bows and leaves.
“Wow, I didn’t know she knew all of our names,” Mutsuki says. “And our usual drink orders too.”
“That’s Touka-chan,” Shirazu says proudly.
Under the table, Haise worries a joint against his thumb again, and then stops when he catches Urie staring at him.
“What?” he asks, a little sharply, and Urie shrugs.
Kirishima comes back with all their drinks at once.
“S-so cute,” Shirazu says when he receives another rabbit.
“Thank you,” Kirishima says, continuing to distribute the drinks. Shirazu takes a breath.
“L-listen — Kirishima-san — I wonder if —”
“Kirishima-san,” Urie interrupts. “Here.”
He holds out his hand. Startled, Kirishima reaches toward it, and Urie drops a rabbit-shaped chocolate into her palm.
Haise stands abruptly. The chair moves out from beneath him with a shriek, and everyone looks at him, and, uneasily, he sits back down.
“S-sorry.”
Don’t be sorry, whispers the voice. Kill him.
Kirishima blinks at him. “Is everything alright, sensei?”
No.
“Y-yeah.” Haise clears his throat and rubs his chin absently. “Everything’s great.”
Kirishima smiles warmly. “I’m so glad to hear that.”
“Kirishima,” Shirazu calls, but she is busy unraveling the chocolate and pressing it into her mouth, whole. Its little ears make a brief indentation in her cheek that is quickly chewed away, and then she tells Urie, “It’s delicious.”
“Huh? Uh — oh. Yeah.” Urie’s eyes had been fixed on Haise’s strange response; now he looks up at Kirishima.
“Where did you get it?”
“Um, this little store in the next ward…by the painting shop.”
“Wow, Kuki-san, you paint?”
“Yes,” Urie says, and shifts in his seat.
“I bet you’re a fantastic painter.”
“Um…not…well…”
“Do you have any photos you can show me?”
I didn’t think Urie could be even more frustrating, the voice growls as Urie’s cheeks begin to redden, and Haise resists the urge to bury his face in his hands.
At least there’s Mutsuki, he thinks, somewhat desperately. Mutsuki doesn’t have any interest at all. Right? He watches carefully as Kirishima gives Mutsuki his cappuccino, and to his relief Mutsuki has no flowers, or chocolates, or light novels to talk about. All he does is thank her, and adjust his eyepatch.
“Kirishima,” Shirazu tries again, but Kirishima is focused now on Mutsuki.
“You’re always wearing an eyepatch, Mutsuki-san,” she remarks, and Mutsuki stiffens.
“U-um — yes. I…I have a condition, but it’s not contagious. The worst thing is just that I look strange from having to wear an eyepatch all the time.”
“You don’t look strange at all,” Kirishima tells him, and Mutsuki looks up, with a slight flush.
“Really?”
“Really. But maybe it’s because you remind me of someone…a friend I used to have, who I was really fond of.”
“O-oh, i-is that so…”
“So, don’t worry about the way you look. You look just fine to me.”
“O-oh, w-well, th-thank you…”
“Touka,” Kirishima supplies.
Mutsuki gulps. “Thank you, Touka-san.”
Haise’s knuckles are white.
Shit, the voice snarls. I’m going to kill them.
Shoot, Haise thinks. I’m going to kill them.
He stands and leaves. Voices call after him, but he says nothing, just takes deep breaths, and keeps his hands clenched so he doesn’t crack every finger he has in half.
:::
His breath plumes. He sucks the chilly air in, hoping it’ll spread through his veins.
She’s just a barista, Haise thinks desperately. He barely knows her. There’s no reason to feel this way. She’s a person, a normal human being. If she wants to date every subordinate that he has, that’s fine. That’s perfect. That’s — great.
He tries every rationale that he can think of, but none of the words stop the shake in his chest. Or the brush of a blade against his ear.
Haise.
I’m not listening to you, Haise thinks furiously. I’m not doing anything you say.
The voice curls around his throat.
Go back.
He stops walking.
Go back.
She’s just a barista, he thinks, again. He barely knows her. There’s no reason to feel this way. Except for her beautiful smile. And the taste of the coffee she makes. And the fact that going to her cafe feels as close to “returning home” as anything he can remember.
Go back.
:::
He stalls, walks, runs errands — but makes it back, and sees with relief that the lights are still on. As soon as he puts his hand on the door, though, the “open” sign flips to “closed.”
Haise jumps. Behind the door, Kirishima — it’s Kirishima — blinks in surprise, and their eyes meet.
“S-sorry,” he says, backing away, but she shakes her head and opens the door.
“No,” he says, “I don’t need to —”
“You never finished your drink, sensei,” she interrupts. “I’ll make you a new one. Come inside.”
He obeys.
Everything is cleaned up for the day, but she goes to the service counter anyway.
“I don’t want to trouble you…” he says.
“An Americano,” she says. “Right?”
“R-right,” he says, perking a bit.
“With no room.”
“Y-yes!”
That quiet smile again. Heartened, Haise says, “Y-you know, Kirishima-san, the coffee you make is the best in the city.”
“Is that so?”
“Yeah. I always look forward to it. You might even say that I — haha, I — like it a latte.”
He laughs a little. She does not. She stares. He stops.
This is horrible. This isn’t working out after all. His gaze drops to the ground.
“Listen. I apologize for leaving earlier. I hope — that one of my subordinates picked up the bill. And…” Haise shuffles, scratches his face. “A-and, this sounds strange, but if it so happens that you wanted to date one of them…well…I just wanted to say that any of them would be a good match for you.”
Kirishima sighs, and frowns.
“So you’re saying, Sasaki-sensei, that you have no interest in me yourself?”
He stiffens. “W-why would you — I mean, w-why would I — I mean — I don’t really know you, so I can’t really say that I…”
She stares, searching. Haise swallows. His hand drops from his chin to his side.
“I might have a little interest,” he admits, very softly, and he looks away. The next thing he knows his jacket is bunched up — she’s clenching it — and his back is against the espresso machine — she’s shoved him against it. He gapes.
“It is,” she growls, “about time.”
“W-what?” he stammers.
Kiss her, the voice says.
“I won’t kiss —” Haise gasps, and stops when Kirishima’s eyes narrow.
“Why not?”
“I — it’s not that I don’t — just because — I don’t know if you —”
“Well,” she says, “I do,” and then there’s no more arguments to be had, just the incredible courage needed to meet her eyes for more than a second and then press his lips, somewhat hard and awkwardly, against hers.
After that, though, the only difficulties are the buttons on his shirt — the knot of her apron’s ribbon against her back — the fact that his body feels too hot, and hers too soft — and that somehow, no matter how they try, they can’t get close enough together.
:::
Outside, Shirazu’s plans to try and ask Kirishima out on a date are, once again, smashed. Once he realizes what’s happening beyond the cafe windows, he whirls around, face violently red.
W-well, that…that explains a lot about why Sassan has been acting so strange.
“You could have just said something,” he mutters. He hears something crash, and risks one more glance back before quickly turning forward again. Yeah, they’re — um — just fine back there.
He starts to head home, but as soon as he starts walking away, he sees passerby start approaching :re’s doors.
“H-hey!” he shouts. “Th-that cafe is closed!”
“Oh, really?”
Shirazu successfully shoos the people away, and then, after some hesitation, he sits down in front of the door to guard it. Sassan is always watching out for them; it’s the least that he can do.
He waits. Two more things shatter, which prompt him to take a couple more glances through the window, just to make sure they’re both still — okay. Quiet finally follows after the better part of an hour. With relief, he heads home, and tries not to think too much about the little bandaids Kirishima and Sassan are wearing the next day.