A/N: Alas, I own neither My Little Monster nor Boys Over Flowers. Robico and Yoko Kamio respectively have that honor.
He had forgotten how blue the sky could be away from the city. By tilting his head back and looking straight up through the shifting leaves, he glimpsed the deep azure at the center of the sky's inverted bowl. The tree's branches shifted in rhythm to the soft breeze, whose passage was also noted by the tinkle of chimes hanging from the porch eaves. The constant hum of cicadas provided a harmony to the fairy-like music, and his toes squeezed the cool grass while his tongue clacked the candy against his teeth in time to nature's melody.
Closing his eyes to concentrate on the sensations in his mouth, he rolled the hard smooth candy around with his tongue. He felt small rough spots gradually form as the sugar disintegrated at an uneven pace. As always, the sweetness lasted only as long as the candy; once it was gone, his mouth held the familiar bitter aftertaste.
The car hit a bumpy patch of road and the dream dissipated but the sourness in his mouth remained the same.
"Damn it, Ando, a blind man could steer better," Yuzan muttered, still with his eyes closed.
He heard a choked laugh from the left side of the rear seat and froze at the feminine timbre. Had Ando finally managed to pick up a high schooler? "I swear, one day I'll send him forcibly to therapy in a straitjacket," he snarled to himself. He cracked open one eye; light from a passing car assisted the pale dawn and he was able see the other occupant. Thank God she wasn't a teenager. Of course, that probably accounted for why she was in the back seat instead of the front with that lolicon. But who was she and what in the hell was she doing in the car with him?
He peeked again and noticed that she was wearing an elegant dress topped off with a man's formal jacket. Taking inventory of his own clothing by moving his hand casually, as if shifting in his sleep, he discovered that he was wearing one of his dressiest suits, or at least parts of it. So, where had he been…?
Oh, yes, his brother's wedding. Haru and Shizuku had taken the next step in their relationship, formalizing their union. The combination of an eccentric genius, a goal-driven dynamo and an overly pampered rooster appeared odd to outsiders (and insiders, for that matter), but their personalities actually complemented each other. They had been surrounded by their friends and family…
Family. Yes, their old man had to stick his nose in and turn their celebration into a political rally to draw attention away from his latest fling. He had usurped the microphone and droned on and on at the reception. Did he even realize what an ass he was making of himself? Probably not, as he lacked the self-awareness gene. It was amazing that his children had turned out as normal as they had, which—to be honest—wasn't very. To their credit, eventually he and Haru could recognize and regret their foolish behavior, even if it had to be pointed out to them forcibly and repeatedly.
After the main reception, the alcohol had flowed freely at the "family, important political supporters and large investors" party. The older generation had congregated in the seated reception rooms and guzzled the hard stuff, while the younger assorted guests pilfered the wine buckets. He had a vague memory of performing the Cossack dance with Haru and Mitsuyoshi in the middle of the ballroom. Shit. He hoped for his own political future's sake that no one had a video camera out right then. Shizuku had just stood on the sidelines with that half-smile of hers watching the three idiots with affection. What an amazing woman she was. One of the few women in the world who was able to put up with the Yoshida lunatics in a sensible fashion. God, why couldn't he find someone like her for himself? Hell, who was he fooling? With his neurosis, he'd probably turn and run for the hills if he did. He'd be better off having one presented to him as a fait accompli...
Forget that! He needed to identify the young lady who was in way too near proximity to him. His mind sorted through the various females that had attended the wedding festivities in an attempt to place a name on the car's occupant. There was the bride's mother, naturally; such a fierce woman, able to stand toe-to-toe with his father without flinching. She and Shizuku made a formidable partnership, both professionally and personally; he had witnessed them take down the son of a bitch before the wedding without resorting to violence. They had then calmly resumed preparing for the ceremony as if nothing more had happened than a blown light bulb.
In sharp contrast was that airhead Natsume, Shizuku's self-described "best friend" and occasional basket case. Oh, what great comic fodder she had provided that year she was seriously crushing on Mitsuyoshi. Alas for his sadistic sense of humor, that had finally faded, and she and Sasayan now resembled planetary bodies revolving around each other. Strangely enough, until the former high school group decamped for a separate after-party, her tall, reserved friend Oshima had been playing keep-away with Shizuku's younger brother Takaya. Hmm, that made some of Takaya's remarks about not liking girls his age make sense. He had to admit that his young brother-in-law had good taste and wished him luck.
From the groom's guest list was their stepmother Michiru, whose great talent was spending huge piles of money whenever the old bastard's antics hit the press. She loved to manipulate both of them into begging her to return to the family fold, knowing that she held the winning hand since her husband's career couldn't survive another divorce. How different from their blood mother, who merely permanently withdrew from situations that didn't suit her or that annoyed her… Wait, no need to count her—she hadn't shown up; he was pretty sure that Haru hadn't allowed her an invitation.
Of course, as long-time family associates, the entire Yamaguchi family, including offspring, was in attendance; he wondered if Iyo still spoke of herself in third person. Even though she had remained in the midst of her brother's three idiot friends, he noticed that Kenji had not strayed far from his sister's side. If it were not so annoying, he would be amused that his awkward self was still thought such a womanizer by one who truly deserved that reputation.
Well, this was frustrating. Even taking inventory of the guests didn't help him identify the passenger. What was he going…
A bare foot prodded his thigh. "Hey, Yuzan-chan," the stranger said in a singsong tone, "I know you're awake. How much longer until we're there?"
His eyes popped open wide as the rest of his body froze. Yuzan-chan?
The jacket slipped off as she leaned forward and neared him, her hands and knees resting on the seat. "You said we were going to taste the best cheesecake in Japan. We're already halfway to Shizuoka, so where is it?"
"Wh-wha-?"
She reached a hand in his direction and he scrambled backwards until he hit the door. Her eyebrows met and her bottom lip pouted when his eyes widened. "Do you think I'm making a pass at you? Look behind you, idiot."
Sure enough, there was Mount Fuji over his shoulder. Cheesecake…
Oh, yes. After the Cossack dance, a few more bottles had been breached, and he had found himself in need of something non-alcoholic in his stomach. He had been munching on various pastries that had been replenished throughout the evening and had encountered this person sitting on the floor, back to the wall, sparkling shoes cast aside. An entire platter had covered her lap as she made inroads through a sampling of the table's offerings. Sensing a kindred spirit, and with enough alcohol in his system to override the paralysis of feminine nearness, he had plopped down beside her after ruthlessly commandeering a platter of his own and filling it with some of everything.
She had blinked at him soundlessly, then swallowed before plucking a fresh item off his tray.
"So what do you think of the desserts?" he asked.
"Lizard anthroid," she mumbled.
"What?" His mouth and eyes opened wide.
She gulped. "A little uninspired." She fingered a different one before pinching off a corner and licking her finger. "I had expected more from that degenerate Yoshida. Maybe some molded phallic candies or aphrodisiac jellies. This is standard wedding reception food. High-class, but nothing worth flying across the Pacific for."
Yuzan's head hit the wall behind him as he laughed. She scowled as she lifted a champagne bottle to her lips, ignoring the flute that lay next to her skirt. Granted, it was on its side, but she at least had started the evening with glassware.
"The bride—and her mother—had final veto over the food selection. It's entirely likely that the son-of-a-bitch would have enjoyed serving those, however."
She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "You know that middle-aged pervert?"
Yuzan smiled. "That appellation means you aren't his latest mistress, right?"
He felt a jolt when her eyes shot sparks at him as she snorted, "Are you insane? He tried to feel me up on the dance floor. Why do you think I holed up here with a bottle of booze?"
"Please don't refer to a $500 bottle of champagne as 'booze'," he said, wincing.
She held up the bottle and studied the label. "Over-charged. This retails for $350 in the United States."
"Really?" he asked calmly. "I'll have to speak to the caterers about that."
Her face dropped in horror. "Are you one of that troglodyte's staff?"
He ignored the question. "And uninspired pastries, to boot. But this far into the evening—and the bottles—no one else in attendance will notice. No, this won't do." He stood and waved his arm, pointing a finger to the sky. Somehow, he managed not to sway as he proclaimed, "In honor of meeting a fellow dessert connoisseur, I'll treat you to the best cheesecake in Japan."
She stared up at him but didn't rise. "And who are you?" she inquired.
He made a shaky bow. "Yuzan Yoshida, at your service. And you?"
"Not one of the staff, but the pervert's heir apparent," she commented, paling. "I don't suppose I could get away with an alias?"
"Why would you need to? Oh, the insults," Yuzan realized. "Those were much milder than what either of his sons have called him in the past. Or even today," he added truthfully. "So, will you join me, Miss...?"
She hopped up suddenly and assumed a boxer's pose, fists clenched. "My name is Shigeru, and if you try any funny stuff, you will surely regret it."
Yuzan flushed slightly and laughed. "Funny stuff? In a sober state I wouldn't even be able to talk with you, so I believe your virtue is safe."
Shigeru tilted her head to the side. "That almost sounds like a challenge. However, you don't seem as strange as some I've encountered, so I'm in. When do we leave?"
His head turned as he looked around the room. "As soon as I locate my driver and he can bring the car around." He blinked at her as she dumped out some of the refreshment displays and filled them with treats of her choice. "I thought those were uninspired."
"Hey, they're still edible," she retorted. "And grab another overpriced bottle, won't you, Yuzan-chan?"
And so, after several hours to burn off the alcohol in his blood, Yuzan Yushida, back and arms pressed against the door and window, felt the sluggish tumblers of his brain click into place as he remembered a last-minute guest replacement. "Oh God," he whispered, "I ran off with the crazy oil princess."