April 21
Thursday
Afterschool
Rainy
The rain hissed gently against the windows of the clinic, the air inside still tinged with the sharp scent of antiseptic. Dim fluorescent lights cast long, sterile shadows on the pale linoleum floor.
"Welcome… oh. It's you. What brings you back? Don't tell me you ran out of medicine?"
"Not exactly," replied Akira, his eyes meeting Dr. Takemi's beneath the flickering overhead light.
"Oh? Then why are you here?"
"…Does the name Oyamada mean anything to you?"
Her reaction was immediate. A brief flicker of tension crossed her face before she gestured silently toward the examination room. Moments later, Akira sat on the crinkling paper sheet of the examination bed, his arms resting calmly in his lap.
- - -
The young doctor tried to corner him with a stern, calculated gaze, but Akira's casual posture, the slight upward curve of his lip, and the confident glint in his eyes silently declared the ineffectiveness of her effort.
"Haa… How do you know that name?"
"That's not the question you want to ask."
"…No… it's not. What do you want?"
"Your expertise."
"My what? What are you talking about?"
"I need a highly skilled medical professional, and you seem like the perfect candidate."
"Me!? Do you know what they call me in the medical field? The Plague. Is that the kind of person you want to entrust your well-being to?"
"If the rumors were true," Akira replied coolly, "I would have approached this meeting differently. Search for 'Tae Takemi' and what do you find? A nearly perfect resume. Top of your class in high school, medical school, brilliant pharmaceutical researcher… and accolades to match. The only blemish? Administering an incomplete medicine that led to a patient's death."
He watched her shoulders tense.
Akira kept his voice level, but inside, he treaded carefully. A cornered, wounded animal is the most dangerous—and he needed her cooperation, not her wrath.
"So… what now?" she said at last, crossing her arms. "You going to blackmail me? Threaten me to leave and never come back?"
"Leave? No." His voice softened. "As I said, I need a highly skilled medical professional."
"Look… I may be a third-rate doctor, but I'm not helping you peddle prescription drugs."
"I wouldn't call it peddling. I'm engaging in intense physical activity and will be for the foreseeable future. I need someone who can perform regular checkups and provide medicine to accelerate healing and relieve fatigue."
"Try a protein shake and a nap."
"They help. But they're not enough."
He leaned forward slightly.
"Here's my proposal: you give me the medicine I need, and I give you real-time data on how it works—on a live patient. Your study progresses, and I stay on my feet."
She narrowed her eyes.
"Kurusu-san, what's your real purpose?"
"Please, Akira is fine." He smiled faintly. "My purpose is exactly what I said. Expedient recovery. That's all."
He held out his hand. "So, how about it? Deal?"
She stared into his eyes for a long moment, searching for deceit, fear, anything. But Akira held steady—controlled but not cold.
Eventually, she reached out and clasped his hand.
"Deal…Call me Tae."
A moment later, a dimly glowing blue tarot card flickered into existence between them. Death. Not an end—but transformation. Renewal. Akira briefly marveled at the symbolism before dismissing the image.
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.
The rain had lightened when he stepped back outside. The clinic lights faded behind him. Rolling his shoulders, Akira breathed in the damp air, feeling the slight weight of accomplishment settle over him.
His own body healed faster than normal—something he was still figuring out—but others might not be so lucky. He needed every edge he could get.
{Though… that medicine is far from tasty.}
{I agree…}
{Still surprising how well you can sync up to my senses.}
{I wish I hadn't. For your sake, I hope she improves the taste sooner rather than later.}
Akira scoffed at Kippōshi's antics as the pattering rain danced off his umbrella.
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Evening
Rainy
The smell of wet pavement still clung to Akira's clothes as he returned to Café Leblanc. A single lamp in the corner glowed warmly, casting shadows across the wood-paneled walls.
"So that's what you were doing. Laundry."
"Yeah, thought with the rain, I'd throw it in while I was doing schoolwork and grab it after."
"Hm… Why don't you set that down upstairs and come back? I've been meaning to talk to you about something."
"Sure."
He set the basket by his futon and made his way back downstairs. Sojiro had wiped down the counter and was already seated with two mugs.
"Here. Take a seat."
"Thanks."
The rich aroma hit him first—earthy, floral, and deeply comforting. Akira rarely drank coffee, but he recognized quality. Carefully lifting the mug, he took a sip, and the complex flavor unfolded slowly, like a story being told one word at a time.
"Can I take your smile to mean you like it?"
"…Absolutely."
"Heh. I noticed you always lingered when I brewed Jamaican Blue Mountain. Not an easy roast to come by, but its richness and full aroma…" He tapped his mug thoughtfully. "It leaves an impression."
"I can see why."
"So, you've got a taste for good coffee, huh? That should make this next bit easier." He leaned forward. "Look, I don't think you're getting into trouble but stay out of anything dangerous—or stupid. Or both. I've got to report to your probation officer twice a month, and I'd rather not have to say more than necessary."
Akira sipped slowly, hiding a smile. The concern behind Sojiro's words was obvious, even if wrapped in dry delivery. He wondered how often the man had felt this same worry—for a stray kid like him.
"…I've been thinking about what you said a while ago," Sojiro continued. "And I've decided to take you up on your offer. You help out around the store, and I'll teach you how to make a perfect cup of coffee. Sound fair?"
"Throw in the curry recipe, and you've got yourself a deal."
"Heh… We'll see about the curry."
Their eyes met, and once again, that invisible tether between souls formed. Another card appeared—The Hierophant. Order, tradition, guidance. Akira stared at it for a moment before it vanished.
Le Pape… fitting. A mentor, a guardian. A keeper of quiet wisdom.
"So how about this: I show you how to make a cup today, and quiz you next time?"
"Sounds like a plan."
"Good. We'll start with cheaper beans, but don't waste any. You'll be drinking every cup, good or bad."
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.
A few hours passed. Dishes were clean, floors swept, lights dimmed.
"All right, I'm heading out. Feel free to practice, but make sure the place is clean for tomorrow."
"That's what we agreed on. I'll follow through."
"Right… If you need anything in the fridge, go ahead. Just leave a note so I know what to restock before lunch and dinner."
"Thank you, Sojiro-san."
"Don't mention it. See you tomorrow."
The bell jingled softly as he left, and Akira stood alone in the quiet hum of the café.
He exhaled.
{He's surprisingly warm-hearted, despite the veneer of nonchalance and gruffness.}
{Hmm… kind of like you. Playing cool, but secretly worried about the people around you.}
{…Are you sure you're a reflection of my soul? I swear I've never been this annoying in my life.}