Work Text:
Being a Border agent means learning how to compartmentalise. Wake up in the morning, go to school, do your homework, go on patrol, exterminate trion soldiers, and don’t forget to revise all the best ways to kill your fellow agents in the upcoming rank battles before going to bed.
Transferring to Tamakoma means rank battles – participating in them at least – are no longer Karasuma’s concern, but nothing else has changed. Classmates and sempai at school are rivals and partners out on the field; the people who are supposed to look after you in the real world are the people you have to protect in the topsy-turvy reality that is Mikado City. It’s the same for everyone.
But for Karasuma, there is yet another side. He is in the unique position to see his fellow agents in a different light, separate from their roles as student or combatant.
It’s amazing the things you can learn about someone in a service industry job.
Despite the stereotype, Karasuma only has one shift a week at the convenience store. It’s an easy job to get, and to balance that out the pay is barely average. Karasuma only works here because he has free time in this time slot and no other job with this shift.
It’s also a fair distance away from both the Hazard Zone and any of the schools affiliated with Border. Which is why Karasuma is not expecting the customers he gets that Monday morning.
“Tachikawa-san, Izumi-sempai, welcome.”
“Kyousuke!” Izumi waves, looking about as surprised as Karasuma feels. “You really do work anywhere. Isn’t this place pretty out of your way?”
“It’s a good job,” Karasuma says blandly; there aren’t that many places nice enough to give a high school student a shift before school on a Monday morning.
“Hey,” Tachikawa says distractedly, most of his attention on the wallet in his hands.
“Don’t mind him,” Izumi scoffs openly. “He’s trying to figure out how much money his drinking partners took off of him last night.”
Karasuma raises an eyebrow.
“Yes, I know.” Izumi rolls his eyes. “Why do you think I’m here? Tachikawa-san has been promising me croquettes all last week. If I let it go any longer he’s never going to buy them for me.”
“They’re just croquettes.” Tachikawa pouts, at odds with his beard.
“Don’t try that with me, I was there when you were whining about the lack of Japanese food on the expedition ship! Now come on, Tachikawa-san, you owe me so many.”
Tachikawa groans. “I still can’t believe you were actually lying in ambush at my apartment. I’m pretty sure this is not what Border is training you for.”
“Border’s teachings are applicable to a wide variety of circumstances,” Izumi retorts.
“You’re going to eat me out of house and home.”
“Our beef croquettes are now on sale for 100yen each,” Karasuma offers blandly, pointing to the heated case beside the register.
“Great!” Izumi’s smirk widens. “I want all of them.”
Ignoring Tachikawa’s splutters of outrage, Karasuma dutifully parcels each croquette into a paper bag, adding them to the growing pile on the counter. “That would be 1000yen please.”
Tachikawa is still looking down at his wallet.
“If you try to say you don’t even have a thousand yen to spare, I’m going to cry foul,” Izumi says, his tone promising a painful future if the answer isn’t one he likes.
Tachikawa sulkily slides a thousand yen across the counter.
“Thank you for your service, please come again.” Karasuma passes the plastic bag of croquettes and receipt back over the counter.
“Don’t let your jobs interfere with school, you don’t want Shinoda-san after you,” Tachikawa says, though the effect is ruined as he lifts the bag of croquettes out of Izumi’s reach, takes out a croquette and vengefully bites into it, right in Izumi’s face.
“Bye, Kyousuke, see you at school!” Izumi shouts over his shoulder, hot on Tachikawa’s heels, already out the door and picking up speed.
“Bye.” Kyousuke waves after them. There is no way Izumi is fast enough to catch up, but knowing them it won’t matter. Tachikawa, despite his faults, doesn’t go back on his word. Izumi will get his croquettes, even if not as many as he wanted.
Karasuma looks back over at the empty case. It’s a good thing he only has one shift here.
On Monday evenings, Karasuma works at the arcade in one of Mikado City’s smaller shopping districts. It’s also the arcade closest to the Hazard Zone, and as such is frequented by Border agents. Less so on Mondays, but it still has its regulars.
Keeping an eye on the fighting game corner, Karasuma waits for an opening, then appears silently from behind. “Fuyushima-san, you controller's sticking; I’ll change it for you.”
Fuyushima jumps, unconsciously mashing buttons while the screen goes back to the title page. “Karasuma! Don’t sneak up on me like that, you're going to give me a heart attack.”
"Buck up, Fuyushima-san, you're not that old," Kunichika says from the game machine on the other side. She waves at Karasuma. “Hi! It must be pretty late if your shift has started already.”
“It is,” Hanzaki speaks up, leaning against the side of the machines with a pout. Like Kunichika, he isn’t in his school uniform but one of Border’s various tracksuit combos they provide for a small fee. Unlike Kunichika, his sweatshirt doesn't have Tachikawa Squad’s emblem but the basic Border one. “You’ve lost every single game so far, Fuyushima-san, it’s my turn now.”
“Go ahead,” Fuyushima sighs, slouching off the chair. “Maybe you'll have better luck.”
“Oh ho!” Kunichika smirks. “Be prepared, boy, I'm going all out.”
“Ugh, dull,” Hanzaki groans, managing the amazing feat of slouching while standing up.
Karasuma, finally done with replacing the controller stick, let’s Hanzaki take his seat. “Good luck, Hanzaki; I’m sure you’ll almost win again.”
“You can try,” Kunichika retorts, attention already on the screen in front of her. "I'll show you the superiority of A-rank no.1!"
Hanzaki snorts. “This isn’t actually the rank wars, you know. It has nothing to do with your A-rank superiority.”
“We’ll see about that,” is all Kunichika says, a sharp leer on her face. “It doesn’t matter if this has anything to do with Border, I'm still going to win! Again!”
“I should think this has nothing to do with Border,” Fuyushima says wryly. “This is just a game, after all. Actually fighting against Neighbours is a much more serious matter, and more difficult.”
Karasuma shakes his head. The three of them have been having coming to this Arcade for as long as Karasuma has been working here – in fact, it’s Hanzaki who approached him with the offer in the first place, knowing that the Arcade was looking for a new worker and that Karasuma was always looking for a job. By this point, he is exceedingly familiar with how things will go. Hanzaki will put up a good fight; he may even get the upper hand a few times, but in the end…
“Excuse me!” Karasuma turns towards the UFO catchers where another customer is trying to catch his attention. Behind him, he can hear Hanzaki's groan of despair as he loses to Kunichika yet again.
Karasuma’s most lucrative job is at the bookstore, the biggest one in Mikado City and where everyone shows up sooner or later. He has four shifts a week; its size and location promising at least one encounter with a Border agent every time he’s there.
Today, it is Mikami and Sasamori, both of them still in their school uniforms. Karasuma would have been in the same situation but for the fact that he was on duty earlier and came to work straight afterwards.
“Here for the newest volume of ‘Let’s Fall in Love’?” Karasuma points to the giant display in the middle of the store, lovingly festooned in pink and white.
“That’s right.” Mikami beams.
Slightly behind her, Sasamori scratches at his cheek in embarrassment. “It’s very funny.”
Karasuma nods understandingly. “Another part-timer here really loves it; she gushed about it all last week while putting up the display.”
“Tsutsumi-san really loved the time travel arc,” Sasamori says defensively, as if trying to prove that it isn’t just for girls, “and even Suwa-san has been pretty into the current murder mystery arc.”
Karasuma blinks, turns to the display with the two conventionally attractive leads sparkling from every cover – absolutely nothing to suggest that the story is about murder – then turns back.
“Long-running shoujo manga,” Mikami and Sasamori say in unison, “what can you do?”
“…I see,” says Karasuma noncommittally. He turns back to the counter, ringing up their purchases with practiced movements. Mikami, besides ‘Let’s Fall in Love’, also bought the newest volumes of several other shoujo manga, and one or two shounen ones with a particularly strong emphasis on romance. Through close observation, Karasuma knows that she enjoys stories where the heroine is spoiled by the rest of the cast. Sasamori, meanwhile, will read anything that involves fighting, the more firepower the better – apparently this includes shoujo manga with time-travelling and murder mysteries.
Karasuma checks that there is no one else waiting in line, then turns back to the two as they are gathering up their purchases. “Do you read ‘Luchito: Ninja King of Death’? It’s a fairly new series, but the first volume is out and it has good reviews.”
“Oh!” A look of recognition passes over Sasamori’s face. “I’m reading it already; a friend lent it to me. I’ll take a copy.”
“Is it very good?” Mikami asks with a tilt of her head.
“It’s about a ninja whose goal is to become the King of Death,” Karasuma recites from his memories of his co-worker’s gushing – she’s someone with the most eclectic tastes Karasuma has ever seen, reading everything from gory horror to saccharine romance to psychological battle manga. “The heroine is apparently the titular character’s childhood friend, and the motivation for his actions is his need to make her happy.”
Mikami blushes faintly. “You know my tastes so well, Karasuma-kun.”
“You have really obvious tastes, Mikami-sempai.” Sasamori sniggers, receiving her kick to his shin without resisting.
“As if you’re not just as obvious,” Mikami sniffs. “As long as the hero saves the day, you’re satisfied.”
“But that’s the best part about manga!” protests Sasamori. “The hero always saves the day!”
Karasuma nods understandingly. “The hero saving the day is always the best part.” He adds the manga to their purchases, then asks, “The second volume is available for pre-order now, would you like me to put your names down?”
“Yes, please!”
“Thank you, Karasuma-kun.”
“All in a day’s work.” Karasuma shrugs, typing into the computer at the counter. “Thank you for shopping here.”
“Bye, Karasuma!” “Goodbye.” Sasamori waves energetically while Mikami gives a short bow as they leave. Karasuma bows back; they’ll be back next month when the new batch of manga are out, and Karasuma already knows exactly what new series to recommend them.
Dinner is an awkward time for a shift. But the new job Karasuma found at this café pays well and only requires him on Tuesdays. It’s worth the trouble even with the café being one of those dainty little retro shops popular amongst girls, who have an unwelcome tendency to flock to him even when it interferes with work. Which is why Karasuma zeroes in the only group of boys and puts himself in charge of their table. It’s only as he goes up to them for their order that he realises–
“Kodera, Narasaka-sempai…and Arafune-san.” No wonder all the other guests are looking over surreptitiously and sighing into their cups.
“Karasuma.” Both Narasaka and Arafune are looking at him in surprise, and Kodera’s mouth is even hanging open a little. “You work here too?”
Karasuma can’t blame them; he already met them just this morning while delivering newspapers in the area near their school. An average sighting of Karasuma at one of his part-time jobs only occurs once a day – according to Usami’s calculations. “I just started.”
“No wonder,” says Arafune, understanding on his face. “We’re regulars, but I’ve never seen you here before.”
“Regulars? Here?” Karasuma looks around at the glittering decorations, then down at the pink silk covering their table.
“Their tea is top class,” Narasaka tells him blandly.
“And the coffee is pretty good too,” Kodera offers.
“Most importantly,” Arafune says, “the Wi-Fi is free and the atmosphere is quiet.” He waves a hand at the pile of textbooks and laptops spread over the table.
Karasuma is suddenly reminded of the fact that exams are less than a month away. “Aren’t the three of you in different year levels?”
Narasaka smiles angelically, a chorus of sighs erupting from the gallery of onlookers around them. “Arafune-san was kind enough to agree to help with our studying.”
“And in return, Kodera agreed to help with overhauling the training scenarios,” Arafune adds, a predatory gleam in his eyes.
“They’re scheduling the overhaul now? During exams?”
“Neighbours aren’t going to wait for us to graduate.” Arafune shrugs fatalistically. “And better to do it now than when everyone’s finished with exams and crawling around HQ.”
“I see.” Karasuma takes out an old-fashioned pen and notepad – apparently it goes with the décor. “What would you like to order?”
“Just a deep-steamed green tea for now,” says Arafune, already opening a textbook and leafing through it.
“I’ll have a roasted green tea and the red velvet chocolate cake,” Narasaka says, unheeding of the way Arafune stares at him like he’s out of his mind.
“That’s the most expensive thing on their menu!”
“We can half it.” Narasaka raises an eyebrow at Arafune. “Wouldn’t you like something sweet? It will be good for your stress.”
Karasuma takes Arafune’s eye roll as agreement, then turns to Kodera. “And you?”
“I’ll have an espresso, thank you.”
“No problem,” Karasuma says, jotting down the orders quickly and precisely. He leaves the table acutely aware that only half of the attention remains on the table behind him, the other half following him back to the counter.
The covert looks only increase when he goes back to what he is privately calling the Sniper table with their orders. Karasuma puts the plate of cake between Narasaka and Arafune, then the drinks in front of each of them as quickly as possible, making a quick escape the moment he’s done.
Just as he reaches the counter again, several muffled squeaks reach his ears, as well as the sound of cups bumping against their respective saucers. Karasuma turns back to see Arafune sprawled all over the table in apparent despair while Narasaka – not a hint of expression on his face – spoons cake into Arafune’s mouth mechanically, occasionally taking a break to put a piece of cake into his own mouth. Sitting as far from them as possible, Kodera scrunches down in his seat and buries his head into a notebook, trying to melt into the background.
Already, several of the female guests are looking between them and Karasuma thoughtfully, as if remembering that he had just been chatting with them casually like friends.
Next time, Karasuma promises himself, he’s not taking their table.
The supermarket is Karasuma’s least favourite job. Most of his shifts here involve answering pointless questions or tidying yet another mess made by the unruly customers, and all with a smile.
Today has been worse than usual: a whole shelf of tofu spilling all over the refrigerated section, a shoplifter in the magazine stacks, and now a display of canned cat food all over the floor.
The culprits – two grade school boys shrieking in dismay – sprint through the automatic doors without looking back. Karasuma sighs, and bends down. At the same time, someone else drops to their knees beside him, a familiar face entering his line of sight.
“Karasuma,” Tokieda greets drily, expressionless as usual.
The can in Karasuma’s hand slips out as he gives a slight start; it hits the floor with a clatter, rolling past Tokieda to bump against a familiar shoe.
“Yo.” Touma grins cheekily, crouching down and clearly ready to help.
“Welcome,” Karasuma says weakly, trying to slow his heartbeat down to normal. He hadn’t felt their presences at all. Belatedly, he adds, “Thanks for helping.”
“It’s my pleasure,” says Tokieda, stacking the cans tidily at their feet.
“We’re here to buy some cat food anyway.” Touma gives a theatrical shrug, an easy grin on his face. “It’s on sale, right?”
“That’s right.” Karasuma nods. He looks over at where the display used to be, only to realise that the giant sign proclaiming ‘20% SALE’ has fallen over too. “It’s 20% off right now.”
Tokieda hums, looking at the neat stacks of cat food with a calculating gleam in his eye. “I’ll take all of these.”
Karasuma, in the process of rebuilding the bottom stack of the display, freezes in shock. “All of them? I thought you only have two cats?”
Touma looks just as surprised as he trots up with the last of the cans – the ones that had rolled the furthest, right into the next aisle – in his arms. “Oi oi, do we need that many?”
“I have counted more than twenty cats over there, Touma-san,” Tokieda says severely. “This isn’t going to be nearly enough to feed them all.”
“We don’t need to feed them all, do we?” Touma asks with a baffled look. “I thought we’re just supplementing their diet with some wet food. They don’t look like they’re starving or anything, I’m sure they can feed themselves.”
Karasuma narrows his eyes. “You’re talking about the cat park on the edge of the Hazard Zone.”
Touma and Tokieda look over at him. Touma at least has the grace to look sheepish; Tokieda’s expression does not change.
“People have been wondering why all those cats have been gathering there, inside the Hazard Zone,” Karasuma adds. “It’s because you’ve been feeding them.”
“They’re stray cats that probably lost their owners after the first invasion; most of them are very tame and make no trouble at all.” Tokieda sets his chin stubbornly.
Karasuma looks at Touma, who shrugs. “They’re good cats. They deserve a bit of a treat. It’s not their fault they have no homes anymore.”
“Well, canned food can last pretty long until the expiry date,” Karasuma says doubtfully.
Acting like the matter is settled, Touma stacks the last of the cans on top of the pile at Tokieda’s feet then starts counting.
“There are thirty here,” Tokieda cuts in, not waiting for Touma to finish. “That’s just enough for 5000yen.”
Karasuma runs some calculations. “Yes, that’s right.”
Tokieda gives a firm nod, transferring the cans into a basket Touma passes him. Karasuma watches them work for a moment, then turns back to the – now much smaller – display. It will need to be replenished.
“Goodbye, Karasuma.” Tokieda waves politely.
“See you at school,” Touma adds casually.
“See you.” Karasuma looks on thoughtfully as Touma and Tokieda head for the checkout counter. The Hazard Zone is, by law, prohibited ground for all but those involved with Border. The question is if cats count within that rule. And if it does, how much responsibility lies on Touma and Tokieda for a bunch of stray cats.
Karasuma has a shift at the bookstore on Wednesdays too. But today’s Border customers are a much rarer combination.
Karasuma has just finished reorganising the magazine rack when he hears a familiar voice calling out to him. Turning around reveals Youtarou, sitting on Satori’s shoulders like some young lord out of a period drama and surveying the store with critical eyes. “Fear not, Torimaru, for I am here.”
Karasuma doesn’t bother wondering what he should be fearing. “Why is Youtarou with you?” he asks Satori.
“I’ve been downgraded from errand boy to babysitter,” Satori says mournfully, shoulders shifting fitfully under the weight.
Karasuma blinks. “Border business?”
“Kind of? It all sounds super hush-hush.” Satori doesn’t look he has any idea what’s going on. Youtarou, apparently bored of whatever game he had been playing atop Satori’s shoulders, starts squirming. “Arashiyama-san was supposed to go meet Jin-san about something after duty ended, but something came up at his university, ouch, so he sent me over with the files or whatever, but Jin-san and Rindou-san said they need me to take it back to Headquarters as soon as possible, stop that, but it’s gonna take some time so I was saddled with Youtarou and told to go do something somewhere else?”
“Why are you asking me?” Karasuma says, taking advantage of the pause as Satori takes a breath and plops Youtarou on the ground.
Satori shrugs, shoulders finally free of their burden. “You’re Tamakoma?”
Karasuma sighs. “So they kicked you out and you decided to come here?”
“There’s a book I wanted to get anyway so I thought two birds one stone! Rindou-san said I’m not allowed back for an hour anyway.”
“So what’s the book called?” Karasuma straightens, ready to do his job.
“Uh, well…” Satori’s eyes slide away suspiciously.
“If it’s a book you can’t talk about in front of Youtarou, it’s probably not a book I can sell you,” Karasuma points out.
Youtarou looks up from the children’s magazines to say, “You can tell me anything, my lips are sealed.” He grins proudly.
Satori takes a deep breath. “It’s “How to Make Girls Take You Seriously’ by Ikemi Tarou,” he says loudly, eyes screwed shut and face blazing red.
Karasuma looks around them; there is no one else in their aisle, which is just as well.
Youtarou stands up, shaking his head condescendingly as he pats at Satori’s thigh. “Oh you poor man.”
Satori looks down at Youtarou sadly. “Thanks for driving in the last nail on the coffin.”
“With how popular the PR squad is, I can’t imagine you having trouble with girls,” Karasuma says consolingly.
“Right!?” Satori latches onto Karasuma’s shoulders. “Usually that’s how it goes, right!? So why do all the girls in class say that I’m too funny to date?”
“Maybe you’re too funny to date?”
Satori whimpers, staring at Karasuma with sad, doggy eyes.
Karasuma sighs. “I’ll go find the book, you wait here.”
Leaving them behind at the magazine rack, Karasuma can hear Youtarou say, “You need to make those girls take you seriously. What you need is a broody look; make them think you’re suffering.”
There’s probably worse advice you could take.
Thursdays evenings Karasuma has the early shift at an Italian restaurant. It’s a real Italian restaurant; the price promising, if not authenticity, then close enough that there are no complaints from their rich and influential customers.
It is the last place Karasuma would have thought of bringing someone like Betsuyaku Taichi. In many ways, Kuruma really is matchless.
“May I take your order?” Karasuma asks with the ordering pad ready. He keeps half an eye on Taichi at all times; there are way too many breakables near his elbows.
“Karasuma-kun!” Kuruma smiles, looking genuinely pleased to see him. “So you’re in charge of our table? Thank you for your hard work.”
Before Karasuma can point out that he hasn’t done any work yet, Taichi gives a yelp of surprise and jumps in his seat. “Eeeeh!? Karasuma, you work here too??”
Karasuma is moving before his brain has caught up with him, one hand steadying the wobbling wine glass while the other catches the knife and spoon just as they tip over the edge of the table.
Kuruma must have moved at the same time, because by the time Karasuma’s brain has caught up Kuruma is leaning forward half out of his seat – one hand propping himself up on the table and the other cupping Taichi’s elbow just before it slams down on the plate under it.
There is a moment of silence while the three of them do nothing but breathe, then Taichi flings himself backwards in his seat, apologies spilling out in a torrent.
It’s a good thing they’re at the corner table away from the others; no need for a bigger scene than this already is. Karasuma picks up Taichi’s wine glass. “I’ll take the glasses; you guys aren’t having wine, right?”
“No, it’s fine, thank you,” Kuruma says weakly, handing Karasuma his own wine glass as well. “Oh, and I’ll have the macaroni gratin.”
Karasuma turns to Taichi, who gives another start – this time far enough from the table to be safe – and says hurriedly, “Do they have Neapolitan pasta here?”
“Yes,” Karasuma says simply. “Anything else?”
“That will be all for now. Thank you, Karasuma-kun.”
Karasuma basks in Kuruma’s smile for a moment then nods, “Relax and enjoy yourselves, I’ll be back with the food soon.” He makes sure to move the water jug a little closer to Kuruma – and a little further from Taichi – before he leaves.
He needn’t have bothered. Not five minutes later, there is another commotion at Kuruma’s table and Karasuma arrives to find the jug tipped over and Taichi’s side of the table drenched.
Karasuma sends Taichi off to the bathroom and starts wiping at the mess.
“Sorry for the trouble, Karasuma-kun.” Kuruma turns the full force of his woebegone look on Karasuma. “I can do the wiping.”
“It’s okay.” He can’t say anything else in the face of that look, not when it’s Kuruma. “It’s my job.”
It doesn’t stop Kuruma from clearing the table with him, and then helping as Karasuma spreads out a new tablecloth. The work goes by quickly with two pairs of hands, and soon everything looks as good as new.
“Kuruma-sempai, you don’t usually come here to eat,” Karasuma says delicately once everything has been put to rights.
“I wanted to give Taichi a bit of a reward,” Kuruma says shamefacedly. “He’s been doing very well lately, I think he’s really managed to get over the invasion from a month ago; I thought he deserved something nice. And since we both like Italian food…”
“I’m sure Taichi appreciates you thinking of him.”
Kuruma sighs. “I hope so. He didn’t really look like he was enjoying himself.”
It is a sign of just how Kuruma is that this is what worries him. You can’t help but respect him for that, but at the same time it makes it hard for Karasuma to point out that that attitude might be the problem.
Kuruma looks in the direction of the bathroom. “Isn’t…Taichi taking a little long…?”
Karasuma’s stomach sinks. There are so many things you can break in a bathroom; things that can’t be fixed easily. “I’ll go check– no, it’s okay, I’m an employee, I’ll go. You stay here, Kuruma-sempai.”
Karasuma does his best to walk steadily towards the bathroom; rushing will make him look suspicious, and bring unwanted attention. The last thing Taichi need is more attention.
Usually Karasuma has no other responsibilities on Thursday, going straight home after his shift at the Italian restaurant. But today he has work.
It was a co-worker at the video rental shop who had told him about it: a training video company needing sales and willing to give a cut to an intermediary. It’s the not the kind of job Karasuma would usually take; too much effort and not enough pay-off. But the co-worker simply wanted Karasuma to ask around, and will give him a cut if a sale is made. He has the free time today, so Karasuma decides to try his luck at Border Headquarters.
The nicest thing that can be said about the training room at Headquarters is that it exists. All trion bodies are in perfect shape, always, and capable of more than a normal human can imagine. What raises performance is your trion organ; that is what Border aims to train. Flesh and blood bodies don’t really matter when fighting Neighbours.
Still, there are those who believe, like Reiji, that tempering your body tempers your mind. And then there are those who just like to train.
Today, there is a record four people in the training room. Hokari at the weight press with Murakami – probably dragged to Headquarters for this specific purpose since he usually trains in Suzunari – spotting for him, Kazama stretching on a mat in the corner, and Kitora on a treadmill. Karasuma knows her normal jogging routine is outdoors, but it won’t be the first time that routine was taken over by PR duty and it’s much too dark to run outside now.
All of them turn to look at Karasuma as he enters the room – Karasuma has never come here without Reiji before. He doesn’t bother with pleasantries. “Have you ever thought about supplementing your training routine with some advice and direction from Masu Rui’s ‘The Secret to a Perfect Body’?” Karasuma flourishes a poster of the aforementioned Masu Rui at them.
It’s Kazama who speaks first, making his way over to Karasuma with Kitora hot on his heels. “You do this kind of job too?”
“It’s a one-off thing.” Karasuma shrugs. “What about you, Kitora?”
Kitora squeaks, then says with a lot more enthusiasm than Karasuma was expecting, “Of course! I would be honoured to!”
“It’s just a training video,” Karasuma says doubtfully, looking down at the poster. “I didn’t know you’re this interested.”
“Are you sure about this?” Murakami asks, joining the group, Hokari a step behind him holding a mostly empty bottle of sports drink. “It doesn’t look very…trustworthy.”
“You swindling her, is what it looks like.” Hokari snorts, draining the last of his drink. “Not a fraud, this?”
“I don’t think it’s ambitious enough to be a fraud,” Karasuma replies, then turns to Kitora. “Look, if you’re not really into this, it’s probably not worth it.”
“I- of course!” The flush on Kitora’s cheeks deepens. “I don’t fall for tricks like this! I just thought I wouldn’t mind buying it, it’s not like it’s a great deal of money, or a big deal, or-”
“This looks more like something along Kizaki’s interests,” Kazama interrupts. “Why don’t you ask him?”
“I did.” Karasuma sighs. “Reiji-san wasn’t interested.”
“If even Reiji-san isn’t interested…” Murakami trails off.
“A fraud, is what this is.” Hokari chucks the empty bottle towards the rubbish bin and folds his arms decisively.
The bottle bounces against the rim, almost falling out but for Kitora’s quick reflexes. “I said I’ll buy it, Karasuma-sempai. Don’t worry,” she says soothingly. “Even fraudulent videos may still have a kernel of good advice in them somewhere!”
Karasuma sighs again.
It must be the week for strange combinations at the bookstore, because today’s shift brings the other three members of Suwa Squad, Usami, and Ayatsuji to his counter.
Stepping forward, Suwa looks as sheepish as Sasamori had the other day. Karasuma tilts his head, then asks, “Here for the newest volume of ‘Let’s Fall in Love’…?”
“Why would you think that!?” Suwa splutters, face bright red.
The others smile self-consciously, shuffling away a little, except Osano who gets straight to the point. “We’re here for the new collaboration between Takitani Haruki and Tony Murray.”
“Samurai Detective in London?” Karasuma points to the other display, forbidding dark covers with splashes of red that are a sharp contrast to the pink and flowery display for ‘Let’s Fall in Love’.
“Not…exactly,” Ayatsuji says weakly.
At the same time, “You know it well, Torimaru-kun!” Usami says and cheerfully pushes up the edge of her glasses.
“The detective is a samurai,” Tsutsumi admits, “and he’s in London. But it’s not that simple.”
“The official name of the series is The Wandering Tale of Minamoto Saburou,” Suwa says, finally getting himself back under control. “It’s a long-running series and it deserves respect.”
“Tony Murray is a very renowned author too, you know,” Osano adds. “It’s an honour to be collaborating with him on a novel, especially getting a simultaneous release in both English and Japanese like this.”
“I’m sure it is,” Karasuma says politely. He looks down at the books they stacked onto his counter. “Would you like to pay for these together?”
Suwa sighs while Tsutsumi and Osano grin brightly. It is Tsutsumi who says, “Suwa-san is treating us today.”
“We were just passing by,” Usami chirps. “But if Suwa-san is buying books for everyone…”
“Suwa-san is very kind.” Ayatsuji smiles dazzlingly.
Suwa, who had opened his mouth – likely for a rebuttal, closes it again with another sigh.
“Suwa-san is very kind,” Karasuma agrees, ringing up the books with a practiced hand.
“You A-ranks earn more than me, you know,” Suwa grumbles, scratching at the back of his head.
“Now, now, Suwa-san, you should be more gracious.” Tsutsumi is smirking, in sharp contrast with his kind countenance. “Why, Azuma-san was treating Izumi, Midorikawa, and Yoneya to yakiniku just a few weeks ago! Compared to that, this isn’t a lot to ask; not with the bonus you received.”
“The bonus we all received.” Suwa glares ineffectively.
“Yakiniku…” Karasuma mumbles wistfully as he bags the books, only to give a start as he sees the familiar movement of Suwa’s hand heading for his breast pocket. By instinct, Karasuma flings out his hand. “This is a no-smoking store, Suwa-san.”
Suwa looks down; Karasuma’s tight grip on his wrist stops his hand just as the cigarette box in it is starting to peek out from his pocket. He sighs and shoves the box back inside the pocket. “Right, right, sorry. Force of habit.”
“Please get a hold of yourself, Suwa-san,” Osano lectures sternly. “There are minors here!”
“This is why you should stop playing with cigarettes in your trion body,” Tsutsumi adds. “You start forgetting when cigarettes are appropriate and when they’re not.”
“Stop looking at me like that, the lot of you,” Suwa snaps, grabbing the bag of books roughly and turning sharply towards the exit. “I already apologised, didn’t I? Maybe I should keep all these books for myself; I paid for all of them!”
“Don’t be like that,” Ayatsuji says soothingly, “we all appreciate your generosity very much.”
“Bye, Torimaru-kun.” Usami waves cheerfully, then turns back to Suwa. “We’re very appreciative! You’re a great man to go to such lengths; almost worthy of being an honorary four-eyes!”
“What, only almost?” Suwa snorts.
“You’re not trying hard enough, Suwa-san,” Tsutsumi chides, laughter audible in his words.
“You should buy us more books,” Osano adds. “I’m sure you can be bumped up to actual honorary four-eyes then.”
Karasuma, exchanging farewells with them, watches the group leave with a sigh. “How lucky…I want yakiniku too.”
Friday evening is the busiest time for just about any job Karasuma could have chosen, which is why it is crucial that his choice of workplace allows for maximum earnings. After much thought, he went with his strengths and chose the sweets buffet for his Friday evening shift.
Sweets buffets have an unfair, but accurate, reputation as a girls’ hangout – mostly because of the stereotype about sweet things. But it works out well for Karasuma, who knows of the effect he can have on female customers and isn’t above using it to earn more money. As Konami, who is a regular at Karasuma’s sweets buffet, had said once, “Sweets buffets are a place for girls to relax and indulge themselves! It’s about having a good experience, not just for your stomach but for your eyes too. That’s why decorations are so important – and you make a very pretty decoration, Torimaru!” He took her words to heart and they have yet to steer him wrong.
Today is no different; all the tables are full of women of all ages chatting and eating heartily – with the manager’s enthusiastic assurance that the effect is definitely due to him. Karasuma accepts her words with his usual equanimity and goes to refill the buffet.
He is gingerly prodding at the plate of traditional Japanese sweets – doing his best not to squish them with his tongs – when Karasuma notes a familiar figure heading his way. “Konami-sempai, welcome. And Tsukimi-san and Kagami-san too.”
Tsukimi and Kagami smile at him gracefully; between the two dark beauties and their understated and refined fashion choices, Konami’s toothy grin and bright red outfit stand out even more garishly than usual. “I see the store is as busy as usual with you in attendance, Torimaru.”
“It’s Friday.” Karasuma shrugs, then turns to Kagami. “There’s a new caramel fudge that just came out, Kagami-san; I think you’ll like it.” He points to the end of the counter.
“Thank you for the recommendation, Karasuma-kun.” Kagami is already looking in that direction thoughtfully. “I shall definitely give it a try.”
“You sure are familiar with Kagami-san’s tastes.” Konami raises an eyebrow.
“Didn’t you know?” Karasuma raises one back at her. “As part of Reiji-san’s tutelage, I have memorised the likes and dislikes of every single person in Border.”
Konami gapes at him. “What, really!?”
Tsukimi, who had been picking through the sweets Karasuma was plating, gives a sharp snort and hurriedly lifts a graceful hand to her mouth.
“I’m sorry, that was a lie,” Karasuma says. Apparently even this isn’t obvious enough. “It is impossible for a single person to remember everyone’s likes and dislikes. Even for Reiji-san, but especially for me.”
Konami’s face reddens. “You tricked me! Again!”
“I do know what Konami-sempai likes though,” Karasuma offers. “Sweets and fruit and red things.”
The blush on Konami’s face deepens. “Oh,” she squeaks.
It’s not the reaction he expected.
As if realising his disconcertion, Kagami loops an arm around Konami’s and starts leading her towards the caramel fudge. “We’ll get out of your way, Karasuma-kun; sorry for interrupting you at work.”
“Ah, right, yes, sorry!” Konami repeats, uncertainty all over her face. “See you at Tamakoma tomorrow!”
Tsukimi follows behind them sedately, tray piled high with sweets. “Good luck,” she says, an impish smile on her face.
Karasuma turns back to the – now much emptier – buffet. It looks like he still has a long way to go if he wants to beat Konami.
Saturday mornings usually involve going to Tamakoma and training. Today, however, requires a change of plans. An advertising company Karasuma had worked with before called him late last night with an offer. It is unfortunate that he will have to cut down on his time with Osamu, but the kid has been doing well, and – as Reiji suggests – it can be a good thing to let Osamu make his own mistakes while he still can.
And so Karasuma is spending his Saturday morning sweltering in an animal costume, handing out balloons. The pay is good, and almost makes up for the fact that he has been standing in the same position for the past two hours barely able to see out of the eyeholes in the giant dog head.
Karasuma passes his last balloon to a slightly sticky five year old in a bulky pink overcoat, then turns back for more. He does his best to stretch unobtrusively as he strolls towards the balloon van; it’s not easy when the full body suit is sticking in places where he has been sweating particularly hard. It doesn’t feel like late winter at all.
As Karasuma makes his way back with a new bunch of balloons, he sees a familiar set of faces peering around in bewilderment. His heart sinks right down to his shoes.
Arashiyama’s face lights up upon seeing Karasuma, and he hurries over with his trademark refreshing smile. Karasuma’s heart, still in his shoes, gives a traitorous thump.
“Excuse me! We’re looking for the petting zoo that’s supposed to be at this mall today? You’re advertising for it right?” Arashiyama points to the balloons with the damning letters ‘Mitaka Petting Zoo’ all over it. “Can you give us directions?”
Karasuma stares at the expectant expression on Arashiyama’s face and the matching ones on Yoneya and Utagawa standing behind him, sighs, and gives in to the inevitable. “Head straight down then turn left until the second plaza.”
Arashiyama and Utagawa stare in confusion and it is Yoneya who reacts first. “Kyousuke?! That you?” He snorts.
“Good morning, Yoneya-sempai, Arashiyama-san, Utagawa.”
“Fancy seeing you here!” Arashiyama smiles warmly. “How fortuitous.”
Utagawa waves weakly, accepting the balloon Karasuma hands him with a half-hearted smile that is a far cry from Arashiyama’s.
“You really do work everywhere.” Yoneya is still snickering, unconsciously echoing the same words Izumi had said days ago.
Karasuma ignores the laughter with practiced ease. “You might want to wait an hour though. They’re opening the dog enclosure late because they’re running behind.”
Their faces fall collectively just as Karasuma had expected. “What a pity; that’s what we’re here for.” Arashiyama sighs. “What now, you guys?”
Yoneya shrugs, most of his attention caught up in tying his balloon to his wrist.
Utagawa says, “I don’t mind waiting an hour. I’m not meeting up with Kikuchihara until lunch anyway.”
“Our squad has an interview this afternoon.” Arashiyama hums thoughtfully. “But I think that’s all for today; more than enough time to spend with the dogs!”
Yoneya makes a face. “The PR squad sure has it hard.”
“But it’s worth it!” Watching Arashiyama turn the full force of his smile on Yoneya, Karasuma is almost willing to swear that a cloud of sparkles is hovering around Arashiyama’s face.
“Why are they running late anyway?” Utagawa looks at Karasuma curiously. “Did something go wrong?”
“Not exactly,” Karasuma says. He takes in the three sets of curious eyes and continues, “Something about one of the fixtures for the enclosure needing to be replaced. So they’re bringing the dogs over later.” He looks down awkwardly, feeling a sharp tug on his costume.
Karasuma can just barely make out a toddler of indeterminate age looking up at him blankly through the eye holes. “Balloon please.” The toddler lisps out.
“We’ll get out of your way.” Arashiyama waves congenially, shooing the others in front of him.
“Good bye,” Karasuma says simply, then turns to the toddler. “Do you want me to tie the balloon to your wrist so it doesn’t fly away?”
“‘es.”
“Yes please,” says the person most likely to be the mother, her attention on Arashiyama’s back as the three vanish into the crowd. “Was that Arashiyama Jun from Border?”
“‘es please,” the child repeats, shoving out one well-padded arm.
Karasuma crouches down clumsily, trying not to fall over, and makes a crude loop over the over-sized mittens that go past the wrist. “I didn’t notice,” he says vaguely.
“Even Border comes to the mall,” the probable mother says half admiringly.
“Yes,” says Karasuma.
Karasuma isn’t even surprised to see Reiji and Kon walking up to him in his last shift of the week at the bookshop. Compared to some of the combinations he already met, this one isn’t out of the ordinary at all.
“What can I do for you two today?”
“Kyousuke, does this store have books on making pie?” Reiji asks.
“It should, it has everything else,” Karasuma says thoughtfully. “Are you guys making pies?”
“That’s the plan.” Kon smiles ruefully. “We were talking about it, and, well, it turned into making pies.”
“It will be an interesting exercise.” Reiji’s eyes gleam with intent, not a hint of that excitement in his voice. “Since we have the time today, I was thinking of starting from the pastry. There is no need to buy from the shops, and I doubt what frozen ones they have will be very up to standard either.”
“Pie baking isn’t a very popular pastime,” Kon commiserates. “It might even be faster making our own pastry than looking for a place that sells it in Mikado City.”
Reiji muses, “We still have some left-over ingredients from the pizza bases, that will be a good start…”
Tuning out the discussion as it delves into more esoteric topics, Karasuma leads them to the cooking section. There are several books on baking on the shelf; one even has a picture of a meat pie on its cover. But if they plan on making everything from scratch then that is not the one they need.
Karasuma picks out a thick volume and presents it with a flourish. “This book teaches you how to bake everything from pies to cakes to casseroles. It has instructions for every aspect of the process from the crust to the sauce.”
“Oooh, that’s exactly what we need!” Kon smiles gratefully, taking the book into her arms. “Thank you, Karasuma-kun.”
“You can pay me back by letting me try some of your trial versions,” Karasuma says impishly.
“Of course.” Reiji nods at him. “You can bring some to your family too, once we’ve succeeded.”
Karasuma ducks his head a little. “That would be great, thanks.” He looks back up. “What kind of pie are you guys making?”
Kon hums thoughtfully, tilting the book a little as she flips through the pages – making it easier for Reiji to look at it. “We were thinking of starting with something sweet, maybe an apple pie, since that’s popular in Japan.”
“I want to move on to savoury pies eventually,” Reiji adds. “If I make them small enough, meat pies can be taken to school as well, and I expect they will be easier to make in batches.”
“Meat pies sound good,” says Karasuma wistfully. “Pork cutlet pies…”
“Um,” says Kon awkwardly.
“We’ll see what we can do,” Reiji says drily.
“I’m counting on you.” Karasuma makes a show of bowing. He hadn’t been completely serious making the suggestion, but if Reiji says so then they can make it happen.
Kon sighs. “Sure, why not. Can’t be harder than keeping Taichi in line.”
Reiji pats her shoulder briskly. “I’m sure it’s much easier than that.”
Out of all of Karasuma’s jobs, the one that pays the best is his shift as one of the floor staff at Mikado City’s most expensive traditional Japanese restaurant. It’s not usually open to someone so young, but Karasuma, despite his age, has a wealth of experience in the service industry and takes pride in his professionalism.
Mikado City being what it is, it can’t compare with the truly grand restaurants of Kyoto or Tokyo – it can’t even pull in that sort of guests in the first place. But situated in pride of place near the one station in the city with express trains to Tokyo, Shuntei is definitely the place to go if you want to be seen flashing your money around.
Always on guard for Neighbour attacks, one might not think that people would have a lot of time to flash their money in a city like Mikado. That is a misconception. As Karasuma is all too aware, being the epicentre of Neighbour attacks just makes it all the more imperative that Mikado City, and Border especially, are shown to have money to throw around.
Today is no different, Kido spearheading the group with Rindou and Karasawa laughing cheerfully on either side of their guests. From the laid-back way the guests joke with Karasawa, it looks like the business meeting itself had gone well. But Kinuta’s forbidding scowl and Netsuki’s visible cold sweat as they bring up the rear, and Shinoda and Sawamura’s stony expressions in between warns Karasuma that the guests this time had not been easy to deal with. He ducks his head a little as he helps the other waitress ready their slippers, keeping his movements contained and unobtrusive.
Just as Karasuma thinks he will be overlooked this time, Rindou turns around as the group heads up the stairs to their designated room and gives Karasuma a jaunty wink. Karasuma nods back solemnly, then goes back to putting away their shoes.
Actually waiting on the customers is not usually part of Karasuma’s duties; he lacks several of the most important qualifications. But carrying the food to the appropriate rooms is, and he is rearranging the dishes onto the respective trays when a loud laugh echoes from the other side of the closed screens.
“Oh, I’m sure we can come to some kind of compromise,” One of the guests brays, magnanimity and condescension vying for dominance in his voice. Karasuma’s hand spasms and the small bowl of pickles wobbles in his grasp. He hurriedly sets it down on the tray.
“Oh yes, many compromises,” Karasawa says soothingly. “Here, your cup is almost empty.”
“Now, now, Karasawa-kun,” another guest speaks up, “no skirting the issue. We are expecting a lot of gratitude for our generosity; I’m sure you understand. With the lack of casualties from the invasion last month, the number of people who believe that Border is behind these…Neighbours…are increasing. While the expedition makes a good story, those who would invest in such a venture are limited in number.”
“We are very grateful for your consideration,” Kido murmurs, so quietly Karasuma almost misses it. The rustle of cloth suggests Kido must have bowed very low with his words.
Karasuma turns his attention back to the trays and concentrates on breathing quietly. His hands do not shake. He is a professional. They all are.
Of his jobs that involve frequent interaction with his fellow Border agents, the sports shop is in the top three. It is located in the same area as the game centre, and as such there are always a high percentage of Border agents wandering around.
Today it is Azuma Squad’s turn, Karasuma notes as he starts his shift. Koarai and Okudera are regulars here, and Karasuma often sees them hanging around the football corner and salivating over the cleats and balls. Today, however, they are in the camping section with Azuma-san in tow.
“Azuma-san, welcome.” Karasuma bows politely, then adds, “Hey Koarai, Okudera.”
Azuma returns the greeting easily. “Help us carry this over to the counter?” he says and indicates the large case in his arms, so bulky that even with Koarai and Okudera helping, one corner still drags on the ground.
“Of course,” Karasuma responds, picking up the trailing end. “Why such a large tent? Are you going camping?”
“Kind of.” The corner of Azuma’s mouth quirks up. “Not out of the city, of course, but Azuma Squad has a free weekend coming up and I thought it would be a good idea to take advantage of it.”
“We’re all going together,” Koarai boasts, face glowing with pride.
“Congratulations,” Karasuma says drily. He blinks. “Even Hitomi-san?”
“She was the one who suggested it,” Okudera tells him with a wry smile.
“Knowing Hitomi, she probably saw a horror movie set at a campsite.” Azuma sighs good-naturedly.
“Hitomi-san really likes that kind of thing,” Koarai says defensively to Karasuma’s raised eyebrow. “She’s watching that new horror movie that just came out right now. She said she’s joining us after it ends.”
“Well, I hope no ghosts show up at your campsite,” says Karasuma politely, scanning the barcode of the tent.
“Nah, what’s more likely to happen is Neighbours attacking and us being called in the middle of our break,” Koarai scoffs, rolling his eyes. Beside him, Okudera smacks a hand to his forehead.
Karasuma smiles weakly. It is amazing how good Neighbours are at timing attacks when they are right in the middle of doing something fun, but it’s not a joke they usually make in front of the older Border agents.
“Oh, I’m sure it won’t be that bad,” Azuma cuts in. “They’re more likely to call up off duty agents closer to the Hazard Zone. Mikado Reserve is a bit too far for us to be needed unless things go really wrong.”
Koarai and Okudera stare at him in horror. “Please don’t jinx us, Azuma-san!”
“Give the rest of us some credit, please. We can survive a weekend without you guys,” Karasuma points out.
“Even Azuma-san?” Koarai sticks his head right into Karasuma’s face despite the counter between them, forcing him to move back a step.
“Even Azuma-san,” Karasuma says firmly, then turns to the man in question. “Sorry, Azuma-san.”
“No, no.” Azuma laughs. “That’s a good thing. No organisation can last on the back of one man; Border’s strength is in its numbers. No matter how many of us have to bail out, there are always more to help take up the slack.”
“Yes, sir!” Koarai, Okudera, and Karasuma all say in unison. That is the kind of response Azuma invokes. That is why, despite Karasuma’s claim, they really can’t do without Azuma at Border.
The Sunday noon rush Karasuma spends working in a specialty restaurant not far from Tamakoma. It’s a traditional little place that boasts of the best rice dishes in town – with the onigiri moulded the way tradition has dictated for more than 100 years. Or something. Karasuma has never been very fussy about his rice or how it’s made, but according to Murakami – who loves this stuff – the store makes good on its claim.
As such, Murakami is a common customer and often brings other Border members with him. That, Karasuma expects. What he does not expect is for people to show up without Murakami in tow – or for it to be Tamakoma 2nd.
“Welcome,” Karasuma says, not a hint of his surprise on his face – he’s much better trained than that.
The three of them are the ones who look startled instead. Yuuma is the first to react. “Good day, Torimaru-sempai.”
By the time Karasuma has led them to their seats, Osamu and Chika have gotten over their surprise enough to make their greetings.
“We weren’t expecting to see you working here,” Osamu says shyly.
“I work in a lot of places.” Karasuma smiles back briefly, setting a cup of water in front of all of them. “I wasn’t really expecting to see you here either, I suppose.”
“Murakami-sempai introduced this place to us,” Chika says quietly. “He said this place has very good rice.”
“Chika says rice is the staple of Japanese food,” Yuuma adds.
Karasuma hands them each a menu. “If rice is what you’re after, we have everything you might want and more.”
“You sound like you’ve had a lot of practice doing this.” Yuuma is looking at him shrewdly. Karasuma wonders what he sees.
Karasuma shrugs, uncaring of the way Osamu and Chika are looking between them in confusion. “I’ve done a lot of jobs like this.”
“Hmmm.” For some reason, Yuuma sounds unconvinced. “Why do you work for Border then, when you spend so much time working in places like this?”
“Kuga!” Osamu snaps hurriedly, but too late.
Karasuma looks at Yuuma steadily. “It’s not about choosing one or the other. I work in a lot of places. One of those places is Border. One of those places is here.”
“But isn’t a job here so much better than Border? You don’t need to kill people or worry about getting killed here. And Border is strong enough that not working for it won’t mean that you’ll be killed by Neighbours anyway.” Despite his words, Yuuma shows no emotion beyond curiosity. Karasuma doubts he has an opinion on it in the first place; the objective is Karasuma’s answer.
“Ku…ga…” Osamu trails off, eyes dropping. Chika, too, is looking away; hands curled into fists on her lap.
“It’s alright,” says Karasuma soothingly. “I could choose to not work for Border, but the merits outweigh the drawbacks. It’s very simple really.”
To someone else, Karasuma’s words may sound too dry, too detached, but Yuuma takes it in without a hint of censure – brows furrowed in thought. “So it’s not about being unable to work anywhere else; but about choosing to work for Border.”
“Yes,” Karasuma says simply. “It’s a choice Border gives all of us. And a choice open to you too, Yuuma.” He takes in Yuuma’s wide-open eyes. “Why do you think Border requires all its members to attend school? There are many paths that can only be opened with a graduation certificate from university, and Border is determined to open those paths for us. Border doesn’t want to force us to be here. We can leave at any time.”
Something Karasuma does not understand flits over Yuuma’s face. “Yes,” he says slowly, “I think I understand. Border doesn’t tie you to itself. If you leave, then you are gone.” His finger rubs the ring he always wears lightly. Karasuma wonders if Yuuma is thinking of Replica.
Karasuma takes in the cold sweat dripping off Osamu’s face, and the way Chika is trying her best to disappear into her seat, and takes a step back. “Look through the menus. When you’re ready to order, just press the button.”
“Yes! Order!” Osamu flips open his menu desperately. “What do you want to eat?”
Karasuma leaves them to it, walking away as steadily as he can. He doesn’t usually talk so much about himself.
To cap off his week, Karasuma spends a few hours handing out tissues near the main station in Mikado City. It’s easy, brainless work, and his boss knows how good he is at making sure all the tissues are distributed and pays accordingly.
There’s a knack to it. A smile that’s not too desperate, but not too complacent; a bow that’s not too shallow, but not too deep; speak, but not too fast, or too slow. You don’t want them to think they are doing you a favour; you are offering them a service that they want to accept. Everyone needs tissues whether they realise it or not. He is simply fulfilling that need.
“Yo, Kyousuke!” A very familiar voice rings out unexpectedly from the direction of the station entrance.
Karasuma turns to see Jin with Kikuchihara tucked under one arm, Miwa tucked under the other, then Midorikawa and Amou of all people trailing behind them – both hugging a bag of crackers to their chests. Of all the unexpected combinations Karasuma has met this week, this tops the list.
“Working hard, I see,” Jin says cheerfully, either not noticing, or just not caring, that both Kikuchihara and Miwa look like they are two seconds away from biting his head off.
“Where are you guys off to?” Karasuma can’t help but ask, the unasked ‘And why are you together?’ on the tip of his tongue.
“Oh, I just need them to help me with a little something.” Jin smiles his most untrustworthy smile.
Kikuchihara seems to give up on resisting, hanging limply in Jin’s grasp and staring off into the distance with dead eyes. Miwa, however, is still struggling against the arm Jin has wrapped tightly around his neck. In the back, Amou is taking advantage of the fact that they have stopped walking to open his bag of crackers and start eating, Midorikawa stealing bites in-between.
What could you possibly need this group for, Karasuma doesn’t ask. He’s not sure he wants whatever answer Jin might give him, whether it’s the truth or just a run-around. Instead, he tries not to look at them doubtfully and says, “Good luck.”
“What do I need luck for?” Jin gives the two under his grasp a gentle shake. “I have these trustworthy agents on my side.”
“I am not on your side,” Miwa snarls, finally at the end of his rope. Midorikawa’s perky “I am!” is drowned out by Miwa’s next words. “I don’t know what you told Ren-san, but I refuse to be a part of your machinations.”
“Does this mean I can leave too?” Kikuchihara raises a hand dully. “I’m pretty sure you didn’t tell Kazama-san about this. He’s going to be pissed.”
“Now, guys, what do you take me for?” Jin pouts. “I’m doing something for Kido-san here!”
“Really!?” Karasuma, Kikuchihara, Miwa, and Midorikawa all say at the same time. Even Amou pauses in his nibbling to gape at Jin in shock.
“Of course!” Jin huffs. “Now will you guys cooperate?”
“If it’s for Kido-san…” says Miwa reluctantly, looking like he just bit down on something unpalatable.
“I’m doing this for you, Jin-san!!” Midorikawa runs up to the front so that Jin can see him staring up with adoring eyes.
“I know I can count on you, Shun.”
Kikuchihara rolls his eyes. “I better get recompensed for this.”
“Sure, sure,” Jin says airily.
Amou’s head comes up. “More crackers?” he asks hopefully.
“As many as you want,” Jin promises, the fervent light of an advocate starting to shine in his eyes.
Karasuma can tell when there’s an opportunity. “Have some tissues too.”
Both Kikuchihara and Miwa take a packet without protest, shoving it into their pockets. For Jin, who still has his hands full of Border agents, it is Miwa who takes another packet to place inside Jin’s jacket pocket for him. Midorikawa also takes two packets, one for himself and the other for Amou, who – unwilling to release his grasp on the crackers – had turned around wordlessly to offer the hood of his jacket for Midorikawa to put the tissues into.
“We must be on our way. Don’t stay out too long.” Jin gives him a real smile – the first real one Karasuma has seen all day – and starts guiding the others towards the station.
Karasuma watches them leave with a considering look on his face. With a line-up like that, either everything will go swimmingly or it will all end in tears. It’s a pity there’s no middle ground for people like them.
There is a lot Karasuma knows about his fellow Border agents. But at the end of the day, their goal is the same. It is Border that connects them, that brings them together against their common enemy. That is all.