McQueen's right eye twitched. She tried—really tried—to keep her tone calm, but the sheer absurdity of the situation was making it difficult.
"Akuma-san?"
"Yes?" he replied without looking up, lazily stirring the foam in his coffee.
"Weren't you saying you'd get serious just a week ago?"
"I did."
The twitching intensified. "Then why," she said, her voice tightening, "have we been lounging in a café for the past week?"
A little exposition was in order. The truth was, this same corner café on the edge of Ishigawa had become their daily haunt. The owner already knew their orders by heart. Gold Ship had dropped by once but was promptly banned after trying to ride the pastry cart like a surfboard.
Akuma set his spoon down and deadpanned, "Are you really in a position to complain when you order three Mont Blancs every time we come here?"
McQueen froze mid-sip of her tea, cheeks heating up. "T-touché," she muttered, quickly retreating into her dessert like a soldier ducking back into cover.
Akuma didn't let her off that easily. "You're gonna get fat."
Mortification flashed across her face. "N-no way…" she whispered, hands instinctively patting her stomach as if she needed confirmation.
He sighed, reached over, and without asking, took the spoon from his coffee. A quick flick and he'd stolen a chunk of her Mont Blanc, tasting it with an appraising hum.
"…It is delicious," he admitted in a low murmur. "I think I can come up with a recipe to decrease its calories for you."
Her eyes lit up instantly, sparkling like gemstones under the café lights. "Are you serious?"
Akuma shrugged. "As long as you train properly and don't become like Gold Ship."
That earned a flat, immediate reply. "I'd keel over before that happens."
The two of them settled into a quiet moment. The clink of cutlery, the soft hum of the espresso machine, and the faint chatter from other patrons filled the space. McQueen, satisfied with her desserts, allowed herself to relax.
But after a few minutes, her curiosity returned. She looked at him over the rim of her teacup. "Why are we here every day, anyway?"
Akuma didn't answer right away. He took a slow sip of his coffee, as though weighing whether to tell her. Finally, he set the cup down.
"…We're trying to recruit a legendary Uma."
That got her attention instantly—her ears perked up so fast she almost dropped her fork. "Legendary? Who?"
He shrugged. "I've heard rumors. A former prodigy Uma. Left racing entirely years ago. Her old academy thought she was a nuisance—too obsessed with 'unnecessary' experiments and unconventional training."
McQueen's eyes widened in recognition. She opened her mouth, ready to confirm her suspicion—
—but the conversation was cut short.
"Oh, Headmaster… still haven't given up on her?"
McQueen turned as Manhattan Café stepped into view, her long coat swaying gently with each step. She moved without hurry, a porcelain teapot in her hands, and refilled Akuma's cup with a slow, practiced pour.
Akuma inclined his head. "Thank you." Then, to McQueen, he added, "Manhattan Café. Mischa's been scouting her, but…" He glanced at Café. "…she's caught up caring for her friend."
Café let out a soft sigh, her expression wistful. "I wish you could get to her, Headmaster. She wants to race again… even if she doesn't admit it." She poured tea into McQueen's cup without being asked, her movements quiet and graceful.
Akuma smiled faintly. "So… does this mean she's done then?"
Café simply shrugged. "You know the drill, Headmaster."
With that, she straightened, gave a small nod, and drifted away toward another table.
McQueen glanced between them, curiosity obvious. "So… she knows this Uma you're after?"
"Knows her well," Akuma replied, sipping his coffee. "Well enough to know when not to push."
McQueen picked at her Mont Blanc thoughtfully. "Feels like you've got a plan you're not telling me."
"Always," Akuma said with a smirk.
For a while, they sat in a comfortable lull—Akuma sipping coffee, McQueen working on her dessert, the clinking and chatter of the café wrapping around them like background music. The scent of roasted beans and sweet chestnut cream hung in the air.
Finally, Akuma set his cup down, stood, and straightened his coat. "Let's go. We've lingered enough for today."