Chapter Text
Two weeks had passed since that first day at the café.
He’d spent so long imagining that moment, fretting about what to say, how to act, over-thinking scenario after scenario in the hopes that he could get it right.
He hadn’t prepared for it to be so underwhelming.
When he first stepped through the doorway to his childhood safe haven, he’d been hit by a deep rooted feeling of nostalgia. Everything from the polished surfaces of the wood to the warm glow of natural light filtering through the glass wall remained just as he remembered it. The faintly fruity smell of worn mahogany just made it through the rich coffee and, honestly, it smelled like home.
With a flick of his eyes, he scanned the area. It wasn’t too busy yet - just 2 patrons so far. He’d been quite sharp, he supposed, so the lunch rush wouldn’t have started yet. It didn’t usually hit until 1 anyway. Turning his attention, his eyes landed on the counter in the corner. Shelves were stacked high with jar upon jar of coffee beans, sugars, syrups - a whole plethora of treats. There was a single coffee cup sat near the back corner. It was a familiar sight. Many a time, his sister and he would relax in that corner when there was a lull in the day; gentle laughs blossoming over the drinks they’d share. It was one such occasion in which he’d tried to impress her with a new bean-grinding technique he’d learned in a magazine. Things hadn’t gone exactly to plan and, instead, he ended up smashing the marble mortar off the bunker and left a dent gouged out of the edge. It wasn’t a huge mark, but they’d been so worried of how Yoshi would react that they’d strategically hidden it with their hands or cleaning cloths any time he came past. It wasn’t until a week later that they admitted it. Turned out he’d known the entire time, he’d been waiting for them to be honest with him. He wasn’t even mad. Simply told them to be more careful; that mistakes happened. Yoshi had always been so patient.
It was a gentle upon his shoulder that made him realise his trip down memory lane had drawn him forward. Now he stood located behind the counter with his fingers tracing the familiar, never-repaired mark.
The ache of missing his sister resonated low through his chest.
A soft squeeze pressed into his shoulder and he turned himself around. Yoshi stood beside him, an empathetic smile touching upon his lips. It had been a long time since he’d been around the comforting nurture of his foster father. In that moment, he’s not quite sure how he managed without it.
A beat of silence rang between them as they shared a silent memory of Hikari. It wasn’t until then that he really understood how much Yoshi missed her too. After all, he’d raised them both. Renji may have lost his sister, but Yoshi had lost a child.
Self-loathing iced his spine. He really shouldn’t have left.
Never again.
Thoughts of Hikari’s passing reminded him of why he’d been so nervous for today in the first place.
Touka.
Ayato.
His family.
“Don’t worry, they’re not here.”
Eyes locked sharply.
“What do you mean?”
“They’re not coming today. They have the day off.”
Confusion must have been evident on his face because Yoshi continued before he had the chance to think up a response.
“I wanted to give you a chance to settle in. I didn’t think it best to overwhelm you on your first day back.”
Oh.
Of course Yoshi would’ve thought ahead and put Yomo’s comfort above all else. With hindsight, it does make sense to not rush into this - to give himself time to adjust to being back in this place, surrounded by memories of his sister.
With a shrug, he slipped his jacket off of his shoulders and slipped into the staff area to store it away. A rack of aprons still hung on the wall at the foot of the stairs, as it always had. Yomo pulled one down and slung it across his waist. He felt an odd weight settle across his hips. Curious hands reached into the pocket, pulling out a beat-up order book and an old pencil. Atop where the eraser would be there was a rubber rabbit topper instead. His rabbit topper. Nimble fingers flicked the pages of the order book until it reached the back. There, faded and sketchy, were all of his old doodles. Pages filled with band logos badly scribbled from memory and detailed etchings of the plants dotted around the café.
He hadn’t even thought. Reaching for that hook was muscle memory.
All this time, all these years, his apron still hung untouched.
Waiting for him.
Slipping the book back into the pocket, he pushed open the door to the storefront. With a quick straightening of his tie he joined Yoshi behind the counter.
“So, boss. Where d’you want me?”
It was a few days after that when they came in.
He’d started to settle into the daily routine again and was in the middle of wiping down tables to prepare for the last rush of the day when the door chimed. The cheery greeting he’d prepped died on his lips when he caught sight of their faces.
They looked just like her.
Barely a glance was passed his way as they strode past and settled themselves at a corner table. Yomo forced himself to stop staring and tried to focus on cleaning while he collected his thoughts.
There was no point in getting flustered. Just play it cool.
He stole glances back as often as he could without making himself obvious.
Cobalt hair draped down, curtaining their faces as they peered over their books. From what he could tell, it appeared to be a study session. Or, at least, Touka was studying. Ayato was playing something on his phone.
The staff door clicked.
“Oh, you’re here.”
Yoshi appeared from behind the bar and stopped behind the pair.
“Yeah, hey Dad,” came a monotone drawl.
“What’re you studying?”
“Biology. We have a lab test next week and I need to pass well to boost my final.”
“I see. Well, good luck for it then. I’ve no doubts you’ll do brilliantly.”
She glanced up then, blue eyes to match her hair meeting Yomo’s with a shy smile.
“Are you aware Ayato’s playing Angry Owl’s though?”
Irritation spread across her features as she swiftly spun and thumped him between the shoulder blades. His hood slipped down from the impact and Yomo could see rabbit ears attached to the top.
“Stop goofing off and study you idiot!”
The insult was spat with surprising harshness. Yet, she settled back into work as if nothing had happened.
“Did you meet Yomo?”
Yoshi poised the question with a gesture of his hand in Yomo’s direction. His presence being acknowledged reminded him he’d been staring. He tried to look inconspicuous as he gave a slight wave;
“Nice to meet you.”
No response was granted. Touka studied him for a quiet minute before turning back to her work. Ayato never even bothered to glance round.
“So he’s the guy you were on about then?”
Wait – what had he told them?
“Yes. Yomo’s an old friend who’s just come back to town, so he’ll be working here from now on.”
Silence rung out once more.
With a clack, Ayato laid his phone on the table and hung his head back over his shoulder to look at Yomo.
“Can you make good coffee?”
While abrasive, the question felt more like a test than a threat.
Smugness pulled at his lips as he looked down at the boy.
“The best.”
“That’s all that matters then.”
With a smirk of his own, he lifted his head back and picked up a pencil. Yomo’s not sure, but he thinks he passed.
A faint chuckle ebbs away as Yoshi turns and heads back towards the counter. He sees him beckon for him gently and goes to join.
“That wasn’t so bad now, was it?”
“You could’ve warned me they were coming.”
“I thought this way would stop you from working yourself up.”
Well. He wasn’t wrong.
Instead he’d just about had a heart attack.
“They’re quite the pair, eh?”
“Yeah. They’re very… guarded.”
Yoshi chuckled again.
“They’ll open up. They’ve been through a lot, just give them time.”
Nodding his head in acceptance, he stole another look to really take them in.
The same sapphire hair; eyes to match. There was no doubt they were his sisters kids. Touka in her proper school uniform pouring over her textbooks. Ayato beside her adorned similarly with the addition of a scruffy rabbit hoody. He was scribbling away, but whether he was working or doodling was another question.
He was Yomo’s nephew, so doodling wasn’t unlikely.
Shallow breaths escaped him as he took in every detail, taking a mental snapshot of this moment so he wouldn’t forget it.
He wasn’t sure how things would go from here but - here, now - they were with him again.
The moment passed and, with his resolved strengthened, Yomo returned to work.
Routine was beginning to become commonplace now. Get up; go to work; grab some groceries from the convenience mart below his flat; eat dinner; sleep. Touka and Ayato came to study whenever they could, usually most nights a week.
He’d asked Yoshi where they stayed and he’d explained that he loaned them a flat near their school once Touka had turned 16. So long as they kept up housework, ate properly, and kept up their grades, they were allowed to keep the place for as long as they needed free-of-charge.
The appreciation was evident with how frequently they visited and helping out at weekends.
Yomo suspected they also just enjoyed being in the company of their foster father. Anteiku had always brought him comfort too.
His obnoxious neighbour hadn’t been seen much since that first night. He’d caught glimpses of him in passing; icy glares from sides of eyes sending shivers across his skin.
What was his problem?
Aside from that, he barely knew he was there. He’d been expecting gratingly loud music at stupid hours and more drunken fights, but so far everything was peaceful.
It had him on edge.
He didn’t trust it. However, he wasn’t going to question it and instigate the next fight. So he left it alone and carried on with his routine.
Which led him to here – another day at the café. It was around 3 in the afternoon and gentle rain had misted the glass-panelling of the far wall. He’d been holding the fort for the last few hours while Yoshi ran some errands.
The bell over the door chimed out as he arrived back with a large box in hand. Yomo rushed over to give him a hand.
“What’s this?”
“It’s some art pieces to sell. Had someone contact me asking to show them here. I felt it might help us draw more customers and we can support local artists at the same time.”
“Sounds good. Where you gonna put them though?”
“Oh, we’ll hang them across the walls. Think of them as free décor.”
And that’s how Yomo spent the rest of the afternoon redecorating.
There was the usual you’d expect; some paintings of fruit, some of flowers, a watercolour of a mountain, some photographs of a shrine. It was the last things he got to that caught his attention.
Lying in the box were 3 masks. Each appeared to be hand crafted and very high quality.
The first was a masquerade mask, pearlescent white accentuated with crystals and peacock feathers. It glinted with elegance each time it caught the light.
The second was the bright red face of an Oni that stopped at the bottom lip. Vicious fangs hung down like a cage across the mouth area and two large horns protruded forward from the top.
The last was that of a clown. A heart and cross took the position of eyes and were smeared across the surface as if painted with blood. A large pair of darkened lips encompassed the bottom half, bared to show a full set of teeth that appeared jarringly realistic.
Yomo studied each as he hung them. The attention to detail really was astounding, and the extravagance of the material wasn’t lost on him. It would take a lot of skill to make things look as impressive as these did. The stitching around each seam was meticulously flawless.
He was really impressed.
With the final nail in place, he stood back to admire his handiwork. Anteiku really did look refreshed with all the new decoration, but there was no denying that the masks were the most astounding. Their uniqueness was bold against the traditional features and pulled your focus from wherever you looked.
“Interesting, aren’t they?”
Yoshi had called to him from the counter as he finished up cleaning for the day. He huffed a sound of agreement in his direction as he went to remove his apron.
It’d been a long day working solo for so long.
It was worth it though, he supposed, to now have something else to look at when the day dragged.
“Who made them?”
“I’m not entirely sure. Nobody knows his real identity, he works under the alias of ‘No-Face’.”
Intriguing.
He waved goodbye to Yoshi as he donned his high-collared coat and stepped into the rain. It was only a faint drizzle now so he wouldn’t mind walking home.
He hadn’t made much progress and it was starting to cause concern. Touka and Ayato remained as reserved as they had the day they’d met.
How could he connect to them?
Oh well, he supposed. There was nothing he could do about it right now.
Tomorrow was another day.