Chapter 43: The Cappuccino and the Crystal Eyes
The afternoon sun over the coastal city of Kamakura was not merely warm; it was a vibrant, living thing. It bounced off the polished glass of high-end boutiques, shimmered on the asphalt of the busy streets, and illuminated the throngs of tourists and locals moving along the wide sidewalks. The air smelled of roasted coffee beans, sea salt, and expensive perfume.
Amidst the flow of pedestrians, standing near a wrought-iron lamppost, a young girl waited.
Sayuri Kuzan was impossible to miss. She wore a light, airy summer dress the color of sea foam—a pale, soft green that contrasted beautifully with her pale skin. In her hand, she held a white shopping bag from a local boutique. But it was her face that drew the eye. Her hair was dark and silky, but her eyes... her eyes were the signature of the Kuzan bloodline. Crystalline, sharp, and possessing a depth that reminded one of a frozen lake.
She looked like a winter spirit who had wandered into summer by mistake.
Aokiji spotted her from twenty meters away.
He walked through the crowd with one of his hands in his pocket. He had shed the white waistcoat of his hero costume, carrying it draped casually over his forearm. In just his white dress pants and the indigo button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, he didn't look like a hero on patrol. He looked like a tired, remarkably tall young model or a businessman playing hooky from work.
He slowed his pace as he approached her, a small smirk touching his lips.
"Excuse me, young lady," Aokiji drawled, his voice low and smooth. "You look lost. Can I get your number?"
Sayuri didn't jump. She simply shifted those crystal eyes toward him. Her eyebrows knitted together in a look of mild annoyance that only a sibling could perfect.
"You're late," she said flatly.
"Traffic was murder," Aokiji replied, stopping in front of her. "Why are you standing out here in the heat? The café is right there."
He nodded toward the establishment in front of her—a chic, glass-fronted café with a view of the bay.
"I was sitting inside," Sayuri sighed, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "I had a nice table. But then... I decided the fresh air was better."
Aokiji frowned slightly. "Why?"
"A group of boys," she muttered, looking away. "University students, I think. They came over to 'get to know me.' They wouldn't take a hint."
Aokiji's expression didn't change, but the air around him seemed to drop a few degrees.
"Show me," he said.
"No," Sayuri said quickly, shaking her head. "You're going to do something stupid, aren't you?"
"I won't do anything stupid," Aokiji said calmly. "It won't be any more stupid than me walking in there and shouting, 'Who tried to flirt with my baby sister?' at the top of my lungs."
Sayuri groaned, covering her face with one hand. "Please don't."
She sighed, defeated, and pointed with her forefinger toward the window.
"That table in the center. The three of them."
Aokiji glanced through the glass. Three young men, likely college sophomores, were laughing loudly, high-fiving each other.
"She was totally out of my league, dude, but it was worth a shot," one of them laughed.
"Should we go after her?"
"Nah, let her go. She's probably waiting for her dad."
Aokiji turned back to Sayuri. "Follow me."
He pushed the glass door open. The bell chimed—ding-ding.
The café was cool, air-conditioned, and smelled of rich espresso. Aokiji walked through the tables. He didn't stomp. He didn't look angry. He moved with a fluid, silent grace that was somehow more intimidating than any show of force.
He stopped right next to the table of three.
The boys were still laughing until a shadow fell over them. They looked up. And up. And up.
Aokiji loomed over them, his face a mask of bored indifference.
The leader of the group, a guy with bleached hair, frowned. "Huh? Who are you, man? Can we help you?"
The door chimed again as Sayuri hurried in, looking anxious. "Oni-chan, please... don't start a fight in a nice café..."
The three boys froze. They looked from the towering giant to the delicate girl.
"Oni-chan?" the bleached-hair guy stammered.
They exchanged glances, snickering nervously.
"Oh, I get it," one whispered. "He's trying to play the tough older brother role. Cute."
They stood up, puffing out their chests. There were three of them, after all. But as they rose, they realized their mistake. Even standing, they had to crane their necks to look Aokiji in the eye.
Aokiji smiled. It wasn't a nice smile.
He placed his hand gently on the shoulder of the leader.
"You guys have some nice courage," Aokiji whispered.
Crrreeeaaak.
Frost didn't just appear; it bloomed. A patch of white, jagged ice spread instantly from Aokiji's fingers, encasing the fabric of the guy's expensive polo shirt. The cold bit through to the skin, sending a violent shiver down the student's spine.
The café fell silent.
"Wait..." a customer at the next table whispered, lowering his coffee cup. "That face... the height... isn't that the guy from TV? The U.A. Sports Festival winner?"
The blood drained from the faces of the three students.
"U.A....?" the leader squeaked, looking at the ice clawing at his shoulder.
"Real hero students are monsters," his friend hissed, grabbing his arm. "Dude, let's go. It's not worth it."
The leader nodded frantically. "I—I was just joking around, man! We apologize to the young lady! We're leaving!"
"Good," Aokiji said.
He lifted his hand. The ice remained on the shirt, a freezing souvenir.
Aokiji turned his back on them completely, dismissing their existence. He waved to a waitress.
"Table for two. By the window."
He looked at Sayuri. "Come on."
The three students scrambled out of the café, tripping over themselves to escape the sudden winter chill. The waitstaff, who had been about to intervene, let out a collective sigh of relief.
Aokiji and Sayuri sat down at a polished wooden table overlooking the sunny street.
"You're unbelievable," Sayuri murmured, though she didn't look entirely displeased. She sat down, smoothing her dress. "You just terrified them."
The waitress arrived, looking a bit flushed from the excitement. "I'm so sorry about that, miss! Can I take your orders?"
"It's fine, really," Sayuri smiled politely. "I'll have a hot chocolate, please."
"And for you, sir?"
"Cappuccino," Aokiji said. "Double shot."
The waitress nodded and hurried away.
"Cappuccino?" Sayuri raised an eyebrow. "That's unusual. Did you betray your beloved black coffee?"
"It's been a long week involving a lot of cream," Aokiji muttered, rubbing his temple.
"Hah?" Sayuri tilted her head.
"Anyway... Did you really travel from city to another just because you missed your brother?"
"Do I not have the right?" Sayuri countered softly.
"On the contrary," Aokiji leaned back, looking at her. "My heart is freezing over with happiness."
"Isn't it supposed to be 'burning with happiness'?" Sayuri rolled her eyes. "Why does everything in this family have to be translated into sub-zero temperatures?"
She fell silent for a moment, tracing the wood grain of the table with her finger. Her expression shifted, the playfulness fading into something more somber.
"I came because... I thought you'd want to know what's happening back home."
Aokiji's eyes narrowed slightly. The playfulness vanished from his face too.
"Did Father speak to the police?"
"No," Sayuri shook her head. "He didn't."
"You seem to know the details," Aokiji observed.
"Because Mom and Dad had a huge fight the moment we got back to the secondary estate," Sayuri explained quietly. "Grandma and Mom wanted to go to the authorities immediately. They wanted to report the threat and the explosion. But Grandpa and Dad... they opposed it. They said a scandal involving a hitman and a stolen Quirk would destroy the Clan's stock and reputation."
"A heated debate," Aokiji scoffed. "So, what happened?"
"It wasn't resolved," Sayuri said, her voice trembling slightly. "Dad... he put private security guards around the house. Not just for protection, but to stop Mom from leaving to go to the police. He took her phone. He's locked himself in his study. He only opens the door when the maid brings food, and sometimes he just screams at her to leave."
"What a chaos.." Aokiji said, looking out the window at the passing cars.
"I think..." Sayuri hesitated. "I think Dad understands that handing over your Quirk to this villain is the safest solution. It's the only way to guarantee safety. But he can't accept it."
"He's not accepting it because his project is about to collapse," Aokiji said coldly. "He doesn't care about me. He cares about the asset."
"About that..."
The waitress returned, placing the steaming cups on the table. A tall glass of hot chocolate for her, a frothy cappuccino for him.
"Thank you," Sayuri whispered.
She wrapped her hands around the warm mug, seeking comfort.
"What is it?" Aokiji asked, blowing on the foam of his coffee.
"I heard Mom crying last night," Sayuri said softly. "I was walking past her room."
Aokiji paused, the cup halfway to his lips. He let out a short, harsh laugh.
Sayuri's eyebrows knit together in irritation
"Sorry, sorry," he waved his hand dismissively. "But we're talking about Eri Kuzan here. The Ice Princess. In fifteen years, I have never seen a single tear fall from that woman's eyes. You must have heard the wind."
"No," Sayuri looked up, her crystal eyes fierce. "I'm sure of it, Aokiji. Our parents... they are going through something strange."
Aokiji stared at her. His gaze was steady, heavy.
"Are you trying to say," he asked slowly, "that after all these years, they are suddenly looking at us as their children? That they care? That's a bad joke."
"Do you have another explanation?" she challenged.
"I bet Father is already planning a 'new project,'" Aokiji said with biting cynicism. "Maybe a third child to replace the defect."
Sayuri flinched. She looked down at her lap, her face falling. The cruelty of the comment hung in the air.
Aokiji saw her reaction. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Sorry. That was too far. I apologize." He leaned forward. "You are the only person who actually cares about this family, Sayuri. Whatever you ask of me, I'll do it."
Sayuri looked up. "Then... if I asked you to give our parents a chance... would you?"
Aokiji took a sip of his cappuccino. The bitterness mixed with the sweet milk.
"I know the reality of this cursed Quirk that runs in our veins," he said quietly. "That's why... I've never truly hated them. I pity them."
"Look at the irony of fate," Sayuri mused, a sad smile touching her lips. "Two people chosen by the Clan elders to create the ultimate tool to sweep hero society. And they ended up with two failures."
Aokiji raised an eyebrow.
"The first failure," she counted on one finger, pointing at him, "a boy with a terrifying quirk, but with a warm, human heart that refuses to be cold. And the second failure..." She pointed to herself. "...a girl with the perfect, icy eyes of the clan, but absolutely no power to back them up."
"So," Aokiji said softly, "you realize that the ice in your eyes just adds to your beauty."
Sayuri tossed her hair, a flash of her old spark returning. "You're lucky you get to look at these eyes every day."
Aokiji chuckled genuinely. "Where do you get this arrogance?"
"Aokiji-nii-san," she said, dropping the act. Her voice became earnest. "Regardless of Mom and Dad... I don't want you to lose your Quirk."
Aokiji looked at her.
"You've always made ice flowers for me," she said. "We played with them when we were kids. And... you're good at this. Being a hero. I watch you. You try to hide it, you try to act lazy, but I think you enjoy walking this path. I want you to be a hero. Not as a successful project for our parents. Not for the Kuzan Clan. But because I want to see my big brother doing something he loves in this life."
Aokiji didn't reply.
He slowly extended his hand over the table.
Mist swirled around his fingers. Tiny, delicate cracking sounds filled the silence between them. From nothing, a translucent, intricate blue rose formed in his palm. Every petal was perfect, glistening in the sunlight streaming through the window.
He reached over and gently tucked the ice flower behind Sayuri's ear, pinning back her dark hair.
"It will melt in a few minutes because of the heat," he said softly. "But it looks beautiful right now."
Sayuri touched the cold flower carefully. She smiled, a radiant, genuine smile that reached those crystal eyes.
"Don't tell me this is a farewell flower," she joked weakly.
"Who knows," Aokiji shrugged.
"Take a picture," she commanded. "Before it melts."
Aokiji pulled out his phone. He framed the shot—his little sister, the "failure" of the clan, looking like a queen with a crown of ice, the sunlight catching the melting droplets on the petals.
Click.
He stared at the photo on his screen for a second longer than necessary, searing it into his memory.
"Done," he said, sliding the phone back into his pocket. "Drink your cocoa before it gets cold."
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