have you not heard that our hearts are old

When Ryuuji and Ann came back from their so-called “Kirijo Internship,” they brought a boy with them.

He was a quiet kid, tired-looking and slight to the point of unhealthiness. Ann was the one to ask Sojirou to let him stay in Akira’s old room at LeBlanc.

Akira hadn’t used it in months; he lived with his parents most of the year and when he made it out to Tokyo, he stayed at the house with Sojirou and Futaba. Sojirou called out to check that he wouldn’t mind, just in case, and it had apparently been his idea to ask.

“He needs some space to get his head on straight, just like I did,” Akira said. “He’s a good guy, boss, he won’t cause any problems.”

Sojirou knew that, because Akira would never put someone he didn’t trust that close to Futaba, not on purpose. He also trusted the kid’s assessments of character more than he did those of most adults. But he wasn’t about to admit that.

So Sojirou offered the new kid his upstairs room, and the kid accepted. He introduced himself as Arisato Minato and asked if he could work in the cafe, and Sojirou wasn’t about to say no to that.

Minato was hardworking and polite. He had health problems of some kind, because he got winded too fast for a kid his age and sometimes had to sit down for a bit after things got busy, but he didn’t seem to take any medications and Sojirou hadn’t so much as heard him mention a doctor. But overall, he was a good kid and Sojriou was happy to have him around.

That said, he was also a black box of a person.

He didn’t mention any family, ever. He’d gone to school in Iwatodai a while, but he wasn’t enrolled there anymore and didn’t seem to be in a rush to find a new school. Sojirou had searched his name online, out of curiosity, and there were no results recent enough to actually be about him.

He obviously had something to do with the Kirijou Group, considering that Kirijou Mitsuru herself came into the cafe one morning when he was on shift and hugged him like they were family.

Sojirou had tried to listen in, subtly, but the conversation was nigh incomprehensible, and he had no idea whether it was because they were discussing more supernatural stuff or if it was some kind of code.

A few days later, a woman with her hair dyed teal and braided away from her face stopped by and spent the afternoon asking after Minato’s health and teaching him how to use a smartphone. It was painfully obvious that this was a new experience for Minato; he was confused by the touch screen in a way that Sojirou usually associated with people twice or thrice his age. Sojirou found himself sympathizing with the kid’s frustration, and maybe he wasn’t subtle enough about it, because on the way out the woman pulled him aside.

“I know you’re curious,” she said. “But you need to give him the chance to open up to you at his own pace.”

“I’m not pushing him,” Sojirou had protested.

“No, you’re just eavesdropping,” she said lightly. “He won’t be upset, but he’ll be a little disappointed. He’s enjoying the experience of interacting with someone without any prior expectations.”

Sojirou hadn’t been able to hear every word that passed between the two of them, but he was pretty sure he would’ve noticed it if they’d said his name.

He said as much, and the woman grinned. “He doesn’t need to tell me for me to know,” she said.

Sojirou tried to press for a clearer answer, but the woman just giggled and told him to, “ask that brilliant daughter of yours.”

So Sojrou did, and he regretted it, because for all that he’d loved Wakaba, he never could understand her when she started discussing the technical aspects of cognition. He was pretty sure what Futaba meant was that she and the woman had similar abilities related to either sensing people, knowing things, or both, but honestly he wasn’t positive. Either way, it seemed that she’d probably known what she was talking about.

So Sojrou stepped back. He kept an eye on Minato, but he didn’t deliberately eavesdrop. Occasionally, he let the kid know that he was welcome back at the house for dinner, or attempted to pull him into low-stakes small talk. But he didn’t push.

It almost seemed like it was paying off when Minato actually offered to teach Sojirou a curry recipe. But Sojirou made the mistake of asking where he’d learned it, and Minato had shut down faster than Futaba’s game systems after she tripped a circuit breaker.

After that, things fell into a sort of weird holding pattern. Minato kept to himself, going for walks or holing himself upstairs when he wasn’t working. Weird people kept showing up to talk to him--a police offer with prematurely-gray hair and a bandage on his face, a high school baseball coach, and weirdest of all, the girl who played one of the heroines on Futaba’s favorite special-effects show.

The most frequent visitors were also the closest to Minato’s age--that blonde girl, Aegis, who’d taken to spending time with Akira and his friends recently, and a brown-haired kid who insisted on bringing his ancient Shiba Inu into the shop. Both of them deferred to Minato in a way that reminded Sojirou of the way the other Phantom Thieves treated Akira. The brown-haired kid, in particular, called Minato senpai almost exclusively, despite their seemingly identical age.

But Sojirou was good. He refrained from eavesdropping.

And then Mutatsu came into LeBlanc when Minato was on shift.

Mutatsu was something of a friend to Shinjirou. He had a rocky relationship with both his family and his faith, and openly admitted that he came to LeBlanc because he was a recovering alcoholic who missed the atmosphere of bars. But despite his closed-off attitude, he was caring, and surprisingly wise for someone who regularly dismissed himself as a “bad monk.” Also, Sojirou readily admitted that it was nice to talk to someone his own age, once in a while.

When Mutatsu walked through the door, Minato paled so dramatically that Sojirou worried he might be about to faint. But instead, the kid ran for the back of the kitchen at a speed that would have been impossible if he’d been even a little bit ill.

Mutatsu, meanwhile, looked as though he’d seen a ghost. He sat down rather heavily at his usual stool and ordered a black coffee, all while looking intensely distracted.

“So, how’s your week been?” Sojirou tried.

Mutatsu didn’t even seem to hear.

“Mutatsu?” he asked.

“Was there…a kid here?” Mutatsu asked. “I thought Akira was back with his parents for now.”

“I’ve got a new part-timer,” Sojirou said. “He’s staying in the shop, like Akira used to. Don’t really know much about his circumstances, but Akira trusts him.”

Mutatsu was staring at him, wide-eyed.

“This kid,” Mutatsu asked. “He have blue hair?”

“Yes,” Sojirou said. He’d never quite gotten up the nerve to ask if it was natural, but he suspected so. “You know him?”

“Couldn’t possibly be the kid I’m thinking of,” Mutatsu said.

“You sure?” Sojirou asked.

“Read sutras at that one’s funeral, so no,” Mutatsu said. “I haven’t thought about him for a while. He was the reason I tried again with my wife, you know that?”

Come to think, Sojirou did remember Mutatsu saying that some kid back in Iwatodai had been the one to convince him to actually look for his family. He didn’t remember Mutatsu telling him that the kid in question had died, though.

Sojirou remembered those few awful hours on November 20th, thinking that Akira had been murdered in police custody. If the kid had actually died…yeah, Sojirou would probably get bent out of shape at any reminders of him, too.

“I didn’t,” he said aloud. “Sounds like a good kid.”

“One of the best,” Mutatsu said. 

“Hope he’s resting well, then,” Sojirou said. 

“Me too,” Mutatsu said. 

There was a choked sound from the kitchen. 

“I better check on that,” Sojirou said, even as Mutatsu waved him off.

Sojirou poked his head into the kitchen, and didn’t see Minato anywhere.

Then he looked down.

Minato was sitting on the floor, back to the industrial refrigerator and knees drawn up to his chest. His hands were covering his mouth and his eyes were red with tears.

“Minato?” Sojirou asked.

There was a faint clatter from the dining room, but Sojirou couldn’t let that distract him.

“Hey, kid, what’s wrong?” he asked.

Minato shook his head, then moved his hands up to cover his face.

Sojirou heard footsteps behind him, and looked over his shoulder to see Mutatsu. 

“Hey, we’re friends, but you can’t just come back here--”

Mutatsu dropped to his knees in front of Minato and Sojirou stopped talking.

“Minato,” he said, in a tone of awe.

Minato’s sobs were audible, now. 

“Minato, you were--” Mutatsu started.

“I’m sorry,” Minato managed.

“Don’t apologize,” Mutatsu said. “It wasn’t like it was your choice, was it?”

Sojirou was lost, but Minato apparently understood at least well enough to get more distressed. 

“Minato?” Mutatsu tried.

“I didn’t want to,” he said. “But there wasn’t another option.”

Whatever that meant, it hit Mutatsu hard.

“They told me it was some sort of rapid-onset illness,” Mutatsu said. “Was that not--”

Minato rubbed at his eyes, and looked up at Mutatsu. His expression, serious past his years, reminded Sojirou of Akira’s more than ever.

“There was a price,” he said. “For ending Apathy Syndrome. Someone had to pay it.”

“Shit, kid,” Mutatsu said.

Minato sniffled. “You shouldn’t be on the floor,” he said. “Your knees were bad back in 2009.”

“They’re still bad,” Mutatsu said. “But I’m talking to an old friend, so I can ignore that for a little bit.”

Minato rubbed at his eyes again. 

“I missed you,” he said.

“You…remember?” Mutatsu said.

Minato held up a hand, then tilted it from side to side, in a “sort of” gesture. “It wasn’t the Pure Land,” he said.

Sojirou found himself on his knees as well, without really noticing how he’d gotten there.

“This is the same kid?” he asked Mutatsu. Then, he turned to Minato. “You died?”

“Kind of,” Minato said, even as Mutatsu answered, “Yes.”

“Well, which one is it?” Sojirou asked.

Minato let out a tired sound that could’ve generously been called a laugh. 

“Kid, I saw your ashes,” Mutatsu said. “That’s not ‘kind of.’ I’m still wondering if maybe I fell off the wagon and none of this is real.”

“It’s real,” Minato said. “But I wasn’t just…gone. I had a job. I don’t know how to explain it, but…there was a door, and something wanted through. I kept it closed.”

Mutatsu let out a hurt sound. “Did those friends of yours know?”

Minato nodded. “They tried to get me back, but it wasn’t supposed to happen. I still don’t really know how Elizabeth managed it…”

“You’re mixed up in the same stuff as Akira and Futaba,” Sojirou said. “With the Shadows and the other world and all of that.”

“Yeah,” Minato said. “But it’s done for them. And they’re all safe. You don’t need to worry.”

Such a perceptive kid. “Do I need to worry about you? You need to sit down an awful lot. If you need medical attention…

Mutatsu looked ready to pick up Minato and take him straight to the ER, despite his bad back and worse knees. But Minato shook his head.

“There’s still a price,” he said. “It’s just…less.”

Mutatsu reached out, bending over awkwardly in order to gather Minato into his arms. “And of course you didn’t tell anyone. Again.”

Sojirou looked over at him.

“He was really sick, those last few weeks,” Mutatsu said, still hugging Minato. “Kept falling asleep in the middle of conversations, barely ate anything, and wouldn’t see a doctor about any of it.”

“What was a doctor going to do?” Minato said, which pretty much confirmed that he’d known what was happening.

Mutatsu hugged him tighter, then released him. “Damn brave idiot,” he said.

“You’re not the first to call me that,” Minato said.

“Do the other kids know about any of this?” Sojirou asked, because he was still trying to get his head around the fact that the kid in his spare room had apparently died to stop some sort of supernatural threat and then come back. 

“Some of them do,” Minato said. “Aegis and Ken do, of course, and so do Ryuuji and Ann. I don’t actually know what they told the others.”

“And those adults who keep visiting?” he pressed.

“They’re my team,” he said. “From back then. So yeah, they know.”

“Wait,” Sojirou said, feeling as though he was on the brink of figuring something out.

“Kirijou and the others have been coming around?” Mutatsu asked. “Good.”

“You’d be their age,” Sojirou realized. “If you hadn’t…”

“If I hadn’t died,” Minato said. “But instead I’m a teenager who can’t use a cell phone because touch screens didn’t exist when I last had one.”

“Hey, kid, cell phones are hard,” Sojirou said. “Cut yourself a little slack.”

Minato snorted. “I don’t belong here.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Mutatsu asked.

“It’s been years,” Minato said. “Everyone moved on. They say they want to spend time with me, but they’ve all got their own lives, their own plans…”

“Kid, no,” Mutatsu said. “Yeah, they moved on. That’s what people do, when they don’t have another choice. That doesn’t mean they don’t want you back.”

“Even if they didn’t, my kids seem pretty fond of you,” Sojirou said. “Akira wouldn’t have sent you to live here if he wasn’t.”

“That’s just pity,” Minato dismissed.

“Maybe,” Sojirou said. “But I think they want to actually get to know you.”

“I’ve been making that a little difficult,” Minato said.

“Well, I wasn’t gonna say it, but….”

Minato sighed. “It’s hard. Opening up to people.”

“Most things that are worth it are,” Sojirou said, getting to his feet. “Come on,” he said, extending a hand to Minato. 

“I need to at least wash my face….”

“What, so a bunch of strangers won’t be able to tell you’ve cried?” Sojirou asked.

“I can’t--”

“I’ve heard enough of that sort of thing from Akira,” Sojirou said. “People won’t think less of you for having emotions. And if they do, so what? We’re the only people in the cafe who actually know who you are.”

“You have a point,” Minato said, taking Sojirou’s hand and getting to his feet.

“Me next,” Mutatsu said. “I think my knees locked up.”

Sojirou chuckled. “I hope not,” he said, extending a hand to Mutatsu as well. 

It took Mutatsu a few minutes to stand, and his joints popped several times in the process. Minato looked on in concern.

“Older than you remember, huh?” Mutatsu asked.

“So is everyone else,” Minato replied. 

“Well, let me catch you up a little,” Mutatsu said, draping an arm over Minato’s shoulders. The kid stiffened, but then relaxed into the contact. “My kid went to university, you know. He got in at Todai, but he ended up going over to this school in Osaka, instead. My wife just about lost her mind over it….”

Sojriou lingered in the kitchen, just for a second, turning the conversation over and over in his head. For the first time in a while, he missed Wakaba for her expertise rather than as the person he loved.

He desperately hoped the Kirijou group had therapists that knew about this kind of thing.

Mutatsu and Minato tucked themselves away in a corner booth, talking quietly over plates of Sojirou’s best curry right up until close. When Mutatsu finally left, it was with a wave at Minato and a promise to return within the week.

Minato stared after him wistfully, and for a moment, Sojirou could see what the kid meant when he said he didn’t belong. There was something other about Minato, more so than Akira or Futaba or any of their friends. All of them had moments of being…more, somehow, than what they were, but with Minato, there was instead a sense that either he was some sort of mirage amid the solid reality of the cafe, or the cafe was the mirage and he was the only real thing in sight.

In the end, though, he was still a kid. 

“Mind helping me close up?” Sojirou asked.

Minato, turned, startled, and then smiled. It hadn’t occurred to Sojirou until now, but the kid really didn’t smile often. Sojirou resolved to fix that.

“Before we do that, could I show you that curry recipe again?” Minato asked.

“You sure?” Sojirou said. “You didn’t seem too interested in it before.”

“It’s just…bad memories,” Minato said. “I came back. The person who taught me this didn’t.”

“Sorry for your loss,” Sojirou said. 

“I wasn’t the only one who died,” Minato said. “I still don’t know why I got so lucky.”

Sojirou could relate to that, even if he wasn’t sure he’d describe the kid’s situation as lucky. “Life’s not fair,” he said. “And that goes both ways. Sometimes we lose things we shouldn’t have to lose, and sometimes we get shit we don’t think we’ve earned.”

Minato made a considering noise. “So, the curry?” he asked.

“The curry,” Sojirou agreed, even as he mentally considered how to talk the kid into sleeping over at the house.

Maybe Akira was right, and he needed space. Or maybe that was just what Minato was telling himself.

Sojirou had already halfway adopted Akira’s entire band of ruffian friends. One more wasn’t that much of an issue.