The Bitter and the Sweet, a tokyo mew mew fanfic

The Bitter and the Sweet

By Laura Schiller

Based on: Tokyo Mew Mew

"Thank you, Lettuce-san," said Keiichiro, replacing the lid on the bento box she had shyly placed before him. "This is … thoughtful."

"You're welcome," said Lettuce, smiling up at him. "I'm not as a good a chef as you are, but I like it. I thought you might, um … taste-test some things for me. Tell me what I could do to improve."

"Later, my dear." He forced a smile in return, moved the box to make room on the kitchen counter for a massive sheet of cookie dough. "Pass me the rolling-pin, would you?"

"Right." She darted away to the tool shelf, and that was the end of it … or so he thought.

He might have known that the porpoise Mew would not give up as easily as that.

"Um … Akasaka-san?"

"Yes?" He sighed. It was after hours and, as often happened, he and Lettuce were the last in the café. He felt dizzy, lightheaded and hollow inside; the smells of dish soap, fruit rinds, icing and coffee grounds were beginning to make him nauseous. Being polite was even harder work than usual tonight; he wished she'd go away.

"I don't mean to pry, but … I noticed you didn't eat the bento for lunch today. Or … or anything at all, actually."

"Didn't I? Ah, well." He flicked a tea bag into the trash with deliberate nonchalance. "I must've forgotten."

"Did you?"

"You know how hectic this place can be."

Lettuce frowned at him behind her glasses. Her hand, drawing absent circles on a plate with the dishcloth, slowed its motion. "Not … not today, it wasn't."

Keiichiro turned away, his eyes fixed on the dirty plates in the sink to avoid that searching blue gaze. She would let this go. Knowing her, surely she'd have to …

A clink told him she had set her plate down on top of the stack. She cleared her throat; looking sideways, he saw that she was blushing, twisting the dishcloth around and around in her hands.

"It's – it's not just today," she burst out suddenly. "I've never seen you eat any of your own creations, Akasaka-san. Not once. Not even a drop of icing. At first I thought it was a chef's thing, but then I thought, why depend on the recipe when you can taste things yourself? I mean, that's how I cook."

"It's a matter of hygiene," he said crisply. "My cakes are for the customers."

"I – I didn't make that bento for the customers." Lettuce's cheeks turned an even deeper shade of crimson. "I made it for you."

Cold sweat trickled down the collar of his shirt. "Lettuce-san, I really don't know what you're trying to say here."

"Don't you?" She squared her slender shoulders, reminding him oddly of her Mew form going into battle. "If there's nothing wrong, then why do you look like this since the night with Nishina-san? You keep losing weight, your eyes have shadows, and you're paler than that shirt you're wearing. I'm sorry to be so blunt, but I'm starting to worry!"

"I must say," he snapped, losing his patience, "It's not exactly polite to give someone a gift and then harangue them about the proper time to use it."

"That's not what I'm – How can you say that, Akasaka-san? I'm only trying to help!"

"I don't need anyone's help!" He plunged his latex-gloved hands into the hot water, hauled out the largest, most cake-crusted, most unwieldy oven tray in the sink, and began to attack it with a brillo pad. "First Ryou, then Ichigo-san, and now you, when I could have worked this out perfectly well on my own! It was years ago, I was over it until all of you came prying into my personal life! For the love of God, why can't you leave me alone?"

Crash!

His hands, normally so steady, had given out at last. The soapy tray clattered to the floor.

Lettuce's lips trembled; her eyes overflowed with tears, which she wiped away with the nearest thing to hand: the rough, wet dishcloth. His own eyes began to water at the sight.

Slowly, timidly, she bent to pick up the tray. He put out a hand to stop her.

"Let me … "

She backed away. He gritted his teeth as he heaved the stainless steel contraption back into the sink.

"Please forgive me, Lettuce-san." He bowed to her, not the flamboyant Western-style gesture he used on his customers, but a simple, humble bend at the shoulders. "You're right. I … I haven't been myself lately. Still, I have no right to take my feelings out on you."

Lettuce's tear-filled eyes sparkled in the fluorescent light as she showed him a shaky smile. "Better out than in, Akasaka-san."

He laughed tiredly and tossed his brillo pad aside. "Do you know," he said. "I think it's time to take a break. I believe my services as a taste-tester are required."

She wiped her eyes and beamed.

The first mouthful was the hardest. The steamed rice between his chopsticks went down like a lump of pebbles. The scrambled egg was easier, softer; some distant professional part of him noted that the chives were a nice touch. Lettuce sat opposite him with her chin propped on her hands, following every bite with her eyes, happiness and anxiety written all over her face. The way she watched him, one would think he was preparing to cure cancer or run a marathon. But no, he thought. Nothing so simple as that.

"It's not about your body, is it?" she asked. "That would be my reason if it were me, but I can't imagine … "

"No." He smiled wryly. "I may be vain, but not that vain."

"Then why … ?"

"I don't know. It's just … sometimes it's the only thing that makes me feel in control."

"In control?" Lettuce's eyebrows rose. "Akasaka-san, you're our boss!"

"I'm not. Ryou is," he corrected. "He's the driving force behind this project. His ideas, his talent. It's my job to look after him; that's how it's always been."

"And who looked after you?"

He swallowed a thick wedge of salmon, along with an even thicker knot of tears. "Rei did."

"Oh."

"Until she didn't."

"I see."

They sat for a long moment, with no sound in the empty café but the ticking of the clock, the hum of the fridge and the distant roar of traffic.

"It was something of a miracle in the first place, you know. For a woman like her to go out with a man like me."

She gasped. "But why? You're a wonderful – I mean – "

"Thank you. Er … you might be too young to realize this, but most men with personalities like mine happen to be gay. And so, when most women look at me, that's what they assume."

"Really?"

"Oh, yes. I've been mistaken for Ryou's boyfriend more often than I can count. Imagine the looks on people's faces when I tell them I'm his legal guardian."

She giggled nervously behind one hand.

"But Rei was … is a scientist," he continued, both frightened and relieved to speak of her out loud when, for so many years, he had struggled not even to think of her. "She knows better than to theorize without proof. She was my first … everything. I was mad about her. I thought I'd finally found somewhere to belong, until I ruined it all."

"Akasaka-san … "

"No, I did. I was selfish. I made her feel like her career took second place to mine. I forgot her on Valentine's Day! And then that birthday cake – when I got that phone message, telling her she didn't want to see me again – I saw that cake and it made me sick, so sick, I couldn't even … "

The words choked him. Hot tears leaked from the corners of his eyes, blurring the sightof Lettuce's neat little rolls of food in front of him. The white rice, yellow egg, black seaweed and pink salmon swam together into a surreal sort of painting. He blinked hard, trying to force them to clear.

"I know how you feel," Lettuce whispered. "When I saw Edomurasaki-san propose to that librarian … "

"It's not the same." She was thirteen, he thought. What could she know about relationships?

"No, it's not," she said, her voice breaking. "He never … loved me … to begin with."

That made him feel like an inconsiderate fool, for not even stopping to realize such a simple thing. Rei had loved him. How would he feel if, like Lettuce's handsome friend at the library, she hadn't even given him a chance? If their three years together, the golden age of his life, had never happened?

He hadn't realized how much about a relationship, even one that ended in heartbreak, one could find to be thankful for.

He took two ironed handkerchiefs out of his pocket: one for Lettuce, one for him.

"You have so much time, Lettuce-san. One day, some man will thank his guiding stars for meeting you."

She tilted her sea-green head at him, stole a salmon roll from the box, and smiled.

"Some woman will do the same for you, Akasaka-san. Wait and see."