This story is set within the year after the last manga involving the Mew Mews ("Tokyo Mew Mew a la Mode," which I have never read). Thus Ichigo, Lettuce, and Mint are about 15 years old. Zakuro is older. I believe that the original Toyko Mew Mew manga (which I have never read, either) said she was 15 (when Ichigo was 13). However, the anime hinted that she was older - which makes a lot more sense, given the character - and this story pictures her about 20 years old, maybe 21 or 22. Pudding is assumed to be about five years younger than Ichigo, or about 10 years old. Berry is one year younger than Ichigo.

The names used are the names from the English fansubs of the Tokyo Mew Mew anime series. If Berry ever had another name than "Berry," I don't know it.

The Tokyo Mew Mew Girls in

"The Green Monster"

Chapter 1: Lettuce

Midorikawa Lettuce hesitated, her right hand over the door handle, her left hand clutching a perfectly-wrapped package. She wore a green skirt, of course, and white tank-top that showed a lot more of her curves that her typical outfit might. She kept hesitating, looking down at her feet and chewing her lip. It had been over a year, now, that she had wanted to do this, dreamed of doing this. Today, she would do it. It was now or never.

Today, she would confess her love.

It made no sense, she knew. Ryou was too old for her, and not her type. She was 15, and he had to be about 20, though he never told them just how old he was. And he was a bad boy: sullen at times, cocky all the time. Lettuce was a perfectly-behaved girl, almost ridiculously kind and patient. Ryou sometimes had a foul mouth, while Lettuce never used any off-color words.

But he was handsome, and tall, and slender. And he was athletic, and so intelligent; and Lettuce found his intelligence attractive beyond belief. And his bad-boy attitude thrilled her. There were times that it was so boring being her parents' Perfect Dutiful Daughter. And so she had begun to crush on him, then to obsess over him. But he had ignored her; she had kissed him only once, when he was unconscious and she had saved him from drowning. But that had been more than a year before, and he had ignored her since. So Lettuce had made up her mind: she would have to make the move. She would confess to him. She would wait no longer.

So she had prepared a perfect lunch for him – prepared it with all of the care and all of the love that she had. She included all of those special dainties that she thought he loved, and arranged them ever-so-perfectly in their box, and wrapped that box without a single wrinkle or flaw. The way to a man's heart was through his stomach, they had always said. And so Lettuce, with the kind of perfection she was capable of, prepared for herself that way to his heart.

And she had dressed for the occasion. Her tank top was flimsier, and clingier, and cut quite a bit lower, than the clothes the others had seen her wear. She had always been the most shapely of the younger Mew Mews, though she had never dressed to show it. And she had secretly thought that she had a better chest than even Zakuro herself. So she dressed to show those curves, and surely Ryou would see them. She even wore contact lenses, now; no more big round glasses. Her huge blue eyes would attract him also, even if they did clash with her long, naturally-green hair.

Yet she was afraid. There was always the fear of rejection, and, Lettuce had known plenty of that in her life. But she was a Mew Mew. She had faced Deep Blue and the rest of the aliens and so many of their Chimera Animas. She had faced the Saint Rose Crusaders and all that they could do as well. People might have thought that she was a shrinking violet, because she was not loud and pushy in the way that other girls could be – like Mint, for example. But she was brave, as brave as any of them; though she was quite sure that what she was doing now was quite a bit more frightening that facing a Chimera Anima.

She was ready; it was time. She swallowed hard, and reached out, and knocked on the door.

There was no answer. Lettuce swallowed again, and looked down the hall. She could use his lack of response as an excuse to run. But no; she was brave. With a trembling hand she reached out and knocked again.

Then the door opened, and Ryou was there. He was buttoning his shirt; maybe he was going out. His sparkling blue eyes looked upon Lettuce, and she gasped a little, with her heart caught in her throat. But she was Lettuce; she was brave. And so somehow she quietly said, "Ryou-san. May I come in?"

He shrugged, and sort of nodded, and she stepped trembling over the threshold. She was in his room now, in his room for the first time. She had planned so many things to say to him, but they would not come to her mind now. So she just stood there uncomfortably, while those divine eyes looked her over.

After a few uncomfortable seconds, Ryou spoke: "Ah, what's that you have?"

Lettuce looked down at the package in her hands. "Just a little something," she muttered. Then she looked up. "For you…"

He rolled his eyes a little, and said, in a rather bored tone, "Why?"

It was the moment of truth. It was now or never! Lettuce choked. The words would not come! But she was Mew Lettuce. She was as brave as any of them. And so, quietly, the words came out.

"Because… because… I love you." Her huge eyes looked into his, pleading with him.

Ryou rolled his eyes again, and muttered, "You've got to be kidding."

The words hit her like a knife through the heart. She could say nothing; every word died in her throat. But then, finally, "Why…?"

He turned away. "You're a cute girl, kid. But there's a lot more to attraction than just being cute. You're…"

He paused before continuing. "You're 'way too young. Someone your age can't excite me." He turned back to her. "I really don't get excited by kids who think it's cool to sew plushie toys."

She couldn't breathe. No words would come. Her heart was screaming, but her body would not move. Then, finally, she held the package out to him, and whispered, "…Ryou…?"

He took the package from her, shrugged, and placed it on the desk. Then without another word, he turned his back and walked out the door, leaving Lettuce staring into space.

She had done her best, dressed herself as well as she could, prepared the best gift for him that she could prepare. And he had brushed her off as if she were not there. Her heart shattered within her breast, and tears flowed freely down her cheeks, while her breath came in desperate gasps.

She looked down at the box on the table. She had put so much love into it, and he had not even opened it! Her hand reached out, and took it: the sign of her failure as a woman. She was worthless, just a child who sewed plushie toys. She looked at the package, wrapped so perfectly, and suddenly anger surged within her. She hurled it with all her strength against the wall, where it smashed and fell crumpled to the floor. It was like her life: crushed and worthless.

Then, on the desk where the box had been, to the left of the laptop computer that was there, she saw a framed picture, a picture of pink-haired girl with cat ears: Mew Ichigo. The pictured smiled flirtatiously, mocking Lettuce's broken heart. Why Ichigo? The little tart already had a boyfriend, her supposedly-precious Aoyama-kun. Why would she need Ryou's heart also? How greedy and selfish could she be?

And then the screen-saver kicked in on the laptop, and rapidly images began flashing over the screen: images of red-haired girl with violet-gray eyes, images of a pink-haired cat-girl with pink eyes, images of Momomiya Ichigo, images of Mew Ichigo. Some were quite revealing; how had Ryou gotten them? Though at least none were obscene. But all the pictures were of Ichigo; there was not one of any of the others, not even of Zakuro. There was just an endless stream of images of that stinking, selfish, two-timing, red-topped tart. The images mocked Lettuce, gloated over her shattered heart, spat in her face, laughed at her shame. Lettuce could take it no longer. She took that hateful computer with both of her hands and hurled it against the wall where she had thrown the present, and smashed it, taking a good gouge out of the wall as well. It crashed to the floor, utterly ruined.

Lettuce, being Lettuce, wondered for a second if Ryou had ever backed up his computer. Then she drove that foolish thought from her mind. She hoped he hadn't! Then all those awful images of that filthy Ichigo would be gone for good.

Finally Lettuce took up the framed photo, and in raging anger threw it against the wall as well. It shattered and fell to the floor between the crushed package and the smashed computer. She could feel something new in her heart, something she had never felt before. Her love had been turned to pain, and her pain to anger; and now from that pain and that anger grew something she had not felt before: deep, abiding hatred. Lettuce, who had been so kind that she had tried to reach out in love and understanding to the aliens who were trying to destroy humanity, now knew, for the first time, true hatred.

She did not hate Ryou; she could not but love him. That would never change. But she hated that greedy, selfish red-haired tart that had ruined everything. She walked over to the broken, crumpled picture, and ground it under her heel. Then she turned, and as her emotions finally overwhelmed her, she fled out of the door.