Notes: This story takes place in the middle of the Showa era (late 1960's), Tokyo - some refer to it as the Provoke era, mostly remembered for its insurrection, anarchist movements, and socio-political, cultural reforms mostly stemming from post-war issues. If you want a clearer picture of the atmosphere, think of Haruki Murakami's "Norwegian Wood" (the film version quite captures the atmosphere, and no, this story won't go like that btw) or a Jean-Luc Godard film (I recommend Masculin Féminin as the closest inspiration). I'm not going to be heavy-handed with the hard stuff, this is still slice of life. Also, I'm not trying to make anything great here lol so don't expect anything literary (I don't own P5 and the characters) or artistic. I just wanted a historical AU fic, haha.

Summary: In the midst of the Showa era, country kid Kurusu Akira moves to Tokyo for college. He meets several people with different walks of life and forms relationships with them; one, in particular, is a blue-eyed dream chaser whom he met at a café.

tokyokko

/ tokyokko. : "people of Tokyo" /

i. rose-colored

.

Kurusu Akira would remember today as a day in the spring of 1969. Exactly twelve hours and a few minutes have passed by since he arrived in Yongen-jaya, where he met a blue-eyed girl who went by the name of Takamaki Ann.

Akira buried his head under his sheets. Now thinking about it like that, it sounded like it came straight out of a romance novel.

It was already evening, but he could not sleep; the image of the girl he just met, and all the possibilities of a Tokyo love story plaguing his mind. A foreigner and a country kid; an unlikely match. The prospect of it was incredibly attractive. He retraced his memories since his arrival today, warning himself to remember the events without his rose-tinted glasses.

"Thank you for using Tokaido Shinkansen. Have a great day!"

The first time Kurusu Akira rode the ever-famous bullet train was the one he took from Yodogawa to Tokyo. The trip only lasted for two hours or less. He wished he took the Shinkansen during his first visit to Tokyo instead than riding the bus; it cost him five hours of unrest just when he was about to take his final admissions test at Tokyo University that day.

He pulled his trolley along with him, now looking for the exit. As he searched the platform, he could not help but notice the vibrant colors and sharp cuts of suits-and-ties of adult men as they held on to their cigarette; the majority of the women wore either Mondrian-inspired or solid-printed shift dresses. some teenagers donned notable all-black and leather outfits. The variety of color and style fascinated him; he liked all of it, and he would certainly look for a part time job to try out some fancy fleeced collarless coats. He looked around some more, now noticing their hairstyles. He now believed everyone owns a can of hairspray.

The only trend he managed to adapt was the mop-top hair. Not that he found it alarming that men in Tokyo are sporting the style - Beatlemania managed to reach his town after all. Still, most of these interesting characteristics of urban life could rarely be found back home.

His people-watching came to an end as he heard the operator blew his whistle, signifying that the train would take off. The eighteen-year-old refocused on looking for the Yongen-jaya exit, dragging his trolley with him. Once Akira exited the station, he found himself in a very narrow alleyway. There weren't many people outside - but they were quite lively as he could hear a radio somewhere tuned on FM. He looked back at the exit sign, making sure this was Yongen-Jaya after all. He made no mistake in getting to his destination.

The prospect of living in a quiet neighborhood immediately vanished. He fumbled his hand inside his pocket, looking for a piece of paper.

Sakura Sojiro, 3-2 Café LeBlanc, Yongen-jaya, 2 Chome 1-5, Tokyo

The paper held the address of the room owner. The contact came from his father's friend. Several steps after, he found the café, the door made out of red pine as it framed the sign "Open". He held the doorknob and entered.

The smell of coffee immediately entered Akira's nostrils; that and raw honey. The shop was quaint and small. The walls painted in crimson red, harmonized by ruddy browns and dirty white; the wooden counter that separated the kitchen and preparation area from the customers balanced the sensual atmosphere that the dim light emanated.

There were no customers; just a man in a striped apron, pouring himself of what smelled like green tea on his mug. He had receding hair and he wore a scowl as his staple expression.

"Excuse me," Akira took a few steps forward, earning the attention of the man. "Sakura-san, is it?"

The old man took a pensive sip from his mug as he stared at the boy with scrutiny. He put the mug down after the long drink. "I am he."

"Good day, Sakura-san," Akira bent his spine to a formal bow. "I was the one who confirmed occupancy for the rent-a-room. Hiroshi-san gave me the address."

"Your name?"

"Kurusu Akira."

Sojiro drank from his mug again, before folding his arms. "You came all the way from Iwata?"

"Yeah.."

"So, Todai then."

Akira nodded in agreement. The owner smirked, impressed that a country kid managed to get into the prestigious school. Sojiro looked at the clock. It was 10 in the morning.

"The room isn't that fabulous so don't get your hopes up," he stated. He put his mug on the sink; his drink still half-full. "follow me."

Sojiro led the way to the cornermost of the shop, revealing a well-hidden staircase. Akira felt his heartbeat race, unsure what was in store for him. If anything, he was excited to dump his bag and roam around the city.

He was greeted by a makeshift room out of an attic. Akira's eyes wandered. It was already cleaned up. The bed already wore newly-washed sheets and pillowcases. The bookshelf, desk, table and sofa were already dusted. The windows framed the light it cast on the floor, revealing the age of the café with the wooden floor's wear-and-tear. It was nothing special but spacious.

Sojiro caught the kid's small grin as brought his trolley with him and sat on the sofa.

"You did bring payment, right?" asked Sojiro, snapping him out of his daydream.

"Y-yeah," Akira opened his trolley, revealing a few clothes and shoes. He took out a well-hidden envelope from someone of his folded shirts and handed it over to him. "with advanced payment and everything else."

The owner cocked a brow in amusement as his lips twitched to a slight curve. "All right," he said, taking the envelope as he counted the yen. "I'll prepare you some coffee while telling you the rules here. Get downstairs when you're ready."

As Sojiro reached downstairs, Akira could immediately tell that he was already making the brew - the strong aroma was very prominent. He looked around the room once more, went over to a box of junk. He knelt down and checked the items - a chessboard, a portable radio, a turntable and an old red telephone.

I should ask if I can use these, thought Akira. He went to his luggage once more, changing from black sweater to a white one, whilst bringing along with him a black day coat. He changed from his loafers to oxfords and prepared his bag, wallet, and umbrella. At this point, he did his best to 'fit in' the urban aesthetic.

Not long after, he had gone downstairs as he and Sojiro talked over coffee while he sat on the stool. Sojiro had told him that while he will be acting as his guardian in Tokyo, he gave him the freedom to roam whenever he liked - day or night - so long as he doesn't get involved in two things: alcohol and drugs.

"You can do all that crap when you're no longer living here," he said with disdain.

Akira smirked as he looked at his black coffee before taking a sip. "I can't make any promises."

"Don't get cocky with me," earning him his subtle ire. The boy changed the expression to a serious one, acknowledging his new guardian's austerity.

"Got it."

Sojiro's face relaxed as he folded his arms. "Food and transportation. That's basically exclusive from your rent," he said. "Although you can eat my curry for free if there are any leftovers."

Their discussion with Sojiro's terms and agreement went like a breeze. The man, although austere-looking, was actually liberal. Akira had thanked his stars that a country boy like him can strike such a nice deal in the city.

After eating Sojiro's curry from yesterday, he finally got to go out. He roamed around the area, looking at the numbers and signs of each building. He spotted nearby clinic and a greengrocer. Nothing much piqued his interest, just the souvenir & junk shop that sells vintage and novelty items. He did find an Awaya Noriko record, which he immediately purchased.

Apart from finding other shortcuts to the train station, there was nothing left for him to look around. He decided to go back to the café and get some rest, this time in slow steps as his eyes now marveled skywards. A lone sakura tree framed the street quite well - the pastel pink of the flowers neutralizing the green and gray tones of the area.

Yongen-jaya seemed like a little, isolated village, one that reminds him a lot of his hometown, standing out in the middle of the urban jungle.

He took out his compact camera and loaded a fresh roll of 35mm. He peeked into the viewfinder, carefully looking for the perfect frame where the sakura would come up nicely. As he was doing so, he noticed a girl standing in the middle of his frame. She wasn't there before.. he thought.

Akira was not a skilled artisan, nor did he have the eye of a painter or a photographer - but he did love refined aesthetics, even if he could barely afford to have one. The girl's blonde hair sweeping with the wind as she looked at what seemed like a little blue notebook against the clear sky made his planned image rather picturesque. He smiled as he turned to look into the eyepiece again, framing once more before clicking.

The girl looked up upon hearing the shutter, her blue eyes arresting his. For a moment, Akira swore he heard Elvis croon behind his ear.

"Oh," she gasped. "I'm sorry, I didn't know you were taking pictures," she moved away from the scenery he photographed, noticing he was taking a photo of the tree that hovered above her.

"Ahh, no," he approached her, feeling rather embarrassed as he rubbed his nape. "I'm sorry for taking a photo of you without your permission,"

"I see," the girl cocked a brow, somehow conflicting the sweet girl image which he inferred from her red shift dress, white knee-high boots, and styled pigtails. She folded her arms, scrutinizing him from down to up. He was dressed too simply than the ordinary Tokyo boy; none of the grungy crap or Teddy boy stereotype she kept seeing among most, but how he carried himself was rather elegant. At least to her judgment.

He's rocking the mop top, she noted. "You're not from around here, are you?"

"Well, no," he answered. Sweat began to accumulate from his hands as he noticed her foreign features. Her pale skin was unlike his own – as he glowed yellow under the sun, she was pink. Rosy, even. "but so are you."

She smirked. She knew she was a looker; she knew it when boys and old men have their eyes on her. She was used to being prey, and it was all right and harmless so long as she can fend for herself - look, but don't touch. But this boy's innocent gaze was a welcoming and refreshing one, despite his dark eyes reflecting his mystery.

"You can keep the photo," she said, smiling.

Akira blinked, quite unsure what transpired.

"I'm sorry again," he repeated. He breathed and flashed a grin. "if you'd want, I can treat you-"

"No, it's all right, really," the girl cut him off, brushing her hair lightly with her hand. She stared at him knowingly, as if to scare him.

The boy pried no further as he dipped his hands in his pockets. "I see."

"Well then." she waved goodbye at him as she turned, walking towards the alleyway he was also heading.

He waited for a few seconds before entering the same alley; made sure she was already out of his radar. He peeked from the corner to check, confirming that she was gone. Probably went to the station, he thought to himself as he took feeble steps back to LeBlanc.

Just before he reached the front, he heard Screamin' Jay Hawkins' "I Put a Spell on You" blast from the café, competing with The Mops' latest song from one of the neighbors.

So Sakura-san likes the blues, Akira smiled to himself. He held the doorknob, once again the distinct smell of cocoa beans entering his nostrils.

"I'm back," greeted Akira as the wind chimes rang. His eyes caught by another's stare. It was the same girl just a while ago; her blue orbs fully round as she gazed at him. She was gaping, but no words escaped her. Akira noticed she was holding the yellow phone next to her ear. He smirked and walked past through her.

He sat two stools away from her, watching her talk to the other end the telephone.

"That was fast," he heard Sojiro's voice. He was at the dirty kitchen, cleaning up some dishes. "it's boring here, isn't it?"

He wasn't really listening, but he managed to reply.

"Yeah," the boy said out loud, his eyes still glued to the girl on his right. "Can I prepare some tea?"

"Sure."

Akira stood from his seat and went to the other side of the counter.

"Sakura-san," he whispered to the busy man. "do you know the girl over there?"

The owner cocked his brow. He stretched his neck a bit to take a glimpse. He immediately turned away after catching a glimpse of her yellow hair. "Yeah, I know her. Why?"

The teen noticed the stern tone of his voice. "Nothing," replied Akira, now looking back to the girl. "I like her eyes."

"She's a model who's just around your age. Quarter American, but her family's often away. She's a regular here so I advise you treat her nicely," added Sojiro, now crouching to take a pot from the lower shelves. The man turned to look at him, smirking. "but that's all I'm telling you. Go ask her name yourself. You sure are lucky considering this is your first day, kid."

Akira chuckled. He grabbed the empty teapot and took a tea bag from the container. The girl was done with her phone call, now perusing through her notebook.

She looked up at him and grinned. "I thought at first you were some creep following me," she said, resting her head cheek on her palm. "but I didn't know you work here,"

"I live here," he answered as he prepared the tea.

The blonde leaned closer to the counter, curious. "Live, huh? You're a new face," she mused. "I didn't know Sakura-san was hiring. When did you get here?"

He chuckled. "Today,"

"You're bluffing," she laughed. She sipped from her leftover cappuccino. "you're funny though. I like that."

"I'm afraid not," he smirked. He opened the teapot and sniffed on his brew; it was good to go. "I just arrived here a few hours ago."

"I stand corrected then," she acknowledged, although still surprised. "you're going to college?"

"Yeah."

"Where?"

"Tokyo University."

"That's awesome," the girl grinned, now clasping her hands together. "I'm actually jealous,"

"I'll be around the neighborhood to buy some greens. Futaba asked," Sojiro came from the kitchen, now without his apron. He grabbed his fedora from the stand. "Would you mind watching the shop for a bit?"

"Futaba?" repeated Akira in an inquisitive voice.

"His daughter," smiled the girl. "Sure thing, Boss."

"Thanks." The old man shot Akira a knowing look before closing the door behind him. The boy wasn't sure if it was a smile of encouragement, or a scowl of precaution.

The café was now empty; nothing, no one, but Akira, the girl, and some blues song playing on the turntable.

He tried to steal a glance at her, but she caught him and warmly grinned at him before finishing her coffee.

Akira smiled at his tea, embarrassed. He wondered what he should say next - she seemed like a friendly person after all, even if she's 'different'. He couldn't help but notice how she stood out wherever she was - be it in a rundown alley or an old coffee shop. He took a sip from his matcha before his ice breaker.

"He told me you're a regular here."

"Yeah, I am." she replied.

Another gust of silence passed them by; the music somehow changed genres from blues to jazz.

Come on, Akira.

"I heard from Sakura-san that you model," he said, folding his arms. "how about university?"

"Yeah. He's right," the blonde looked back to her mug, somehow lamented on her drink. "I didn't apply to any. There just wasn't any program suitable for me - or, at least I'm not so sure about it yet.. I'm taking acting classes and attending language school though. Right now, German."

"I see. You plan to go international then?"

"Yep," she answered. "But, I'm not having such luck nowadays,"

"You're not?" he asked in doubt.

"Earlier on the phone," she began. "I was talking to a scout. I auditioned for a small commercial and I got shortlisted,"

"What sort of commercial?"

"Well.." she smiled nervously and looked at the side, her cheeks turning pink as she now thought how embarrassing the product was. "it was for a can of hairspray."

Akira chuckled. So everyone really is crazy with it. "Then what happened?"

"I didn't get the role," she answered simply, huffing in disappointment. But her mood changed quickly as she turned to smile at him again. "It's all right though. I'm about to make more calls with my list!" she chimed, tapping on her blue notebook. Akira reckoned she had done a hefty research for scouts and agents.

"Anyway," she continued. "you said you're new here,"

"Yeah."

"When does class start in Todai?"

"Next week."

Her grin widened. "Want me to tour you around after the Boss comes back?"

"At night?" he asked, raising a brow.

"Yeah! Why not, right?"

The boy narrowed his eyes, wondering what she was up to. His first day in Tokyo was becoming an eventful one. It probably won't hurt. "Okay."'

The girl opened her small notebook again and reached for the yellow phone once more.

"Sorry, I didn't catch your name. What is it?" she asked in between her giggles as she turned the dial of the phone.

"Akira. Kurusu Akira," he answered, returning her smile. "And yours?"

"Takamaki Ann. Call me Ann."