When Kitchens Collide

Daichi, Seiya, and Sora (Still alive) are all in for it in a desperate pursuit of a blissfully oblivious Najika's heart. Best way to describe your feelings: Right in your own kitchen with a dessert! Thing is, with cheap tactics, overwhelming adversity, and in between cheesecake attacks, will ANYONE confess true love?

Hallo! My first Kitchen Princess fiction-whoo hoo! I love the series….somehow, I just knew Daichi would end up with Najika. Anyone could tell from the beginning. It's always the slightly gruff type to win the girl's heart. Sigh….

Quote:

"There hath no stranger, more desolate, nor hopeless place,

Then the dark domain and confine of a kitchen's walls…"

(Seiya's POV)

What could be more perfect?

A grin spread across my face as I reached my private kitchen door-one that quickly turned into a laugh as I impatiently grasped the new Apron Kiro had placed out for me.

Najika Kazami.

Kazami….

NajikaNajikaNajikaNajika….

I loved her.

I wanted her as my own.

Right now. It was pathetic-utterly pathetic that neither Kitazawa had made a move on her for two years.

This was only my sixth month here, and I already knew what I wanted.

But then again, I've always known what I wanted.

Well….

….at least until now.

* * * *

There had been many girls that gave me chocolates on Valentines Day-and many on White Day.

Some homemade (Blecch, none of those twits seemed to have ever opened a cookbook prior to the occasion) and store bought.

I didn't care.

Either they did or they didn't.

Whichever worked for me just fine.

* * * *

But Najika….

Who would've thought that the same girl I watched through the windowpane was the one I actually took time and energy to CARE about?

Father shunned me most of my childhood. Even when I brought home awards, he simply wanted more.

If I reached no higher then second place, well….

Mother had left years ago with some other man. I resented her for that.

So much so, I began denying I ever had a mother in the first place.

Who had ever cooked a meal for me? Certainly not my father-heaven forbid that his clothes be stained.

The clothes that he threw away almost daily.

But Najika brought me a taste of home-even when she bested ME.

Hokkaido.

I chewed my Madeline slowly that night, savoring every inferior, lemony, lavender based bite.

Funny, in a way.

It had been years-years since I had actually sobbed or even shed a tear. I had gotten well used to my tutors' daily aggression.

But no one had ever told me how difficult it was to eat and cry at the same time.

- - -

Even as I tied the strings around my waist, the smile simply wouldn't fade.

It was like preparing dessert for people and watching their faces-even if it WAS with poor material.

Just like the first feeling I had when I watched my first soufflé and cake rise-just as I had baked my first batch of croissants or Torta cremosa della libbra del cioccolato.

I can't say I know how I fell in love with this aloof country girl, or how I decided that, until I could hypothesize WHY she kept beating me in our cooking skirmishes, I would refuse to keep my eyes off her.

She seemed irritated, but took it with good humor.

* * *

I was never used to anyone but my servants when I was older to fuss over me.

Whn I came into Fujita diner with a cold, not only did she practically strap me down to stop me from working-much to my displeasure-she prepared Dumpling Soup-which takes a good three hours to make.

I savored each taste that night. It tasted somewhat…better, then what I've come to expect from people. I do not know why.

Still….

What did I make for Najika to prove my feelings? She'd fall for me eventually-if not right off the bat-but it had to be special.

Something simple, but powerful.

My eyes narrowed.

Didn't want to scare her off…but it had to be a profound touch….

My eyes widened.

Yes.

I'd figured it out again.

Ora sia mine-an Italian dessert with the first taste of vanilla sweetness on her lips after you bit into the cheesecake, following by a tangy, fresh, lemon aroma…

Excellent.

I seized a pan, and began to pull up my sleeves as I turn on one of the many nozzles of a nearby sink, and impatiently began to lather at my hands.

Ora sia mine-it was perfect.

In Italian, the words simply meant, "Be Mine Now."

End of Chapter One

Whew! I'm tired….please, should I move on with the Kitazawas? ^^ Tell me what you think!