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When Akira first stepped foot into Leblanc Café, he noticed three things.
One: There were four people sitting at the counter around an older, gruff-looking man making strong-smelling coffee.
Two: The man at the counter—Sojiro Sakura, his volunteer probation officer, Akira assumed—was talking amicably with Goro Akechi.
Three: Goro Akechi ; the teen detective who Akira had seen at least five posters for on the way to his living arrangements, was talking to his volunteer probation officer .
How embarrassing.
As the door closed shut, the bell attached to it jingled, and Akira winced as four pairs of eyes landed on him. He mustered up all the courage that he had, and shuffled his feet towards the counter, giving a crooked smile to the general direction of his VPO (easier to say than Volunteer Probation Officer, Akira thought). He refuses to make eye contact.
He received a small wave from an older woman with black hair, positioned the closest to his VPO, and a smile from Akechi.
This isn’t strange at all.
“Oh, Sojiro,” the youngest there—a girl with thick-rimmed glasses and bright orange hair—piped up, “is that the kid on probation that you’re taking in?”
The older man nodded and set the pitcher he was holding down, turning from Akechi to her. “Yes, he is.” He then looked over to Akira. “Akira Kurusu, correct? I almost forgot that was today—ouch!” he’s cut off by a stern whack to the head by the woman next to him. “ Jesus , Wakaba.” Upon a scrutinizing look from her, he raised his hands in surrender. “Sorry, sorry, I’ll introduce myself properly.”
He extends his right hand over the counter towards Akira, and with his left, pushes his glasses up. “Sojiro Sakura, but you can call me Boss. You’ll be staying with me over the next year.”
Akira only hesitated slightly before taking his hand in a firm shake. His parents had always said a good handshake makes a good impression. “Thank you for having me, Boss.”
As Akira turned to the others, the woman by Sojiro (Wakaba, right?) offered her hand as well. “I’m Wakaba Isshiki, and this one over here—” she pointed at the girl with orange hair, “—is my daughter, Futaba Isshiki. Futaba, come say hi,”
Futaba waved at Akira, “Hi, Kurusu!”
Akira waved back.
Lastly, Wakaba pats Akechi on the back, “Goro Akechi’s his name, though I’m sure you’ve already heard of it!” she says with a small snort. Akechi shoots her a glare with no actual heat behind it, then shifts his attention to Akira.
“Hello, Kurusu! Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
Akira nodded nervously, and at that, was promptly led up to the attic by Sojiro.
The attic .
Akira’s pretty sure that if he could catch diseases from the dust clouding the air with each step, he’d be deceased by now. Not to mention the clutter filling every crevice of the space. His eyes caught sight of a good few spiders in the corners of the attic.
“You look like you’ve got something to say,” says Sojiro stonily. Akira stiffened, folding his hands tightly together.
“It’s big,” Akira says dumbly.
“It’s up to you to clean it.” Sojiro places his hands on his hips. Akira nods determinedly.
Akira listens through Sojiro listing all the rules of his stay, trying not to wince when Sojiro lays out his situation. He’d known this already, he’d heard it from his parents at least a hundred times before they’d kicked him out for, as Sojiro put it, being a “pain in the ass.”
He didn’t have to say it so plainly.
Sojiro headed downstairs, leaving Akira with a “probation diary”, and at once Akira face planted into the ragged mattress that smelled ever-so-slightly of mold. Heaving a sigh, he rolled over and placed his hands on his face. Tomorrow, maybe, he would clean his room.
He didn’t clean his room.
Really, all he could think about is how shitty Shujin already was, and he hadn’t even had his first day yet.
The principal, who aptly resembled a boiled egg, made sure that Akira knew that he was one step away from getting expelled, even for minor violations. And Akira knew that! Everyone and their mother had told him this ever since he’d been arrested; and that wasn’t even his fault!
Akira then realized that his hands were balled into fists, and quickly unclenched them.
He couldn’t appear threatening, Akira thought dryly.
It was at this point that he noticed that his future homeroom teacher was talking, and shifted his attention to her voice.
She definitely didn’t want him in her classroom, which was great. So far, not a single adult in this school was on his side. What a world.
He caught Sojiro shooting him a pitying glance.
The day before he started school at Shujin, he’d finally cleaned the attic, to Sojiro’s relief. Laying in his mattress and breathing air that didn’t clog his lungs up, along with the lack of sleep the days (weeks, months, really) before, was most likely the reason for his deep sleep.
Normally, he’d be grateful for that. But waking up to Sojiro calling his name and asking why he was still in bed and not at school, was, in fact, not the way he’d planned to start this year off.