Sweet Hopes and Dreams
"Oh wow! You're really going to be on TV?! Sugoi!"
Usagi's squeal of excitement reached the range of ear-shattering and continued on into a range normally only audible to canines as she bounced on the pink sofa and hugged an embroidered throw pillow to her chest.
'Itai. It's not like I needed that ear anyway.' Makoto winced and covered one ear with a hand. "That's what they tell me, Usagi-chan. The instructors of the various culinary academies were each allowed to nominate one student they thought was most promising to compete. It's such an honor just to be nominated like this. I can still hardly believe it! I've only got a month to practice, though, before the competition."
"Let me see that!" Without waiting for permission, Minako snatched the expensive stationary from her friend's hand and perused the letter. Her azure eyes widened to a point where they appeared to be on the verge of bulging right out of her blonde head. "It's true. She IS going to be on TV. Oh, I am so jealous. Rei-chan's going to freak out when she hears!"
"Minako-chan," sighed Makoto, making a grab for her letter, "it's not like I'm going on an idol show. This is a cooking competition. It's only going to be shown on the Food Channel anyway."
Scowling down at her empty fingers, Makoto wondered how she'd missed. Minako was very quick sometimes.
"Hai, I know." Minako replied, waving the letter about, still keeping it from her friend who made another futile grab at it. Makoto wasn't at all sure how, with her longer arms Minako was managing to keep the missive away from her, but she was doing an annoyingly good job of it. "But it's public exposure. You HAVE to let me do your makeup."
"My what?" A baffled look crossed Makoto's face. "Minako, do you have any idea what hot TV lights and cooking steam and oven heat and all that would do to makeup?"
"Never you mind," chirped Minako with an airy wave of a hand. "I can definitely get you made up so that your cosmetics wouldn't melt if you actually stood in the oven itself with it on broil mode. You simply have to look good on TV. It's too bad that you have to wear all that white chef's gear, though," she murmured, eyeing Makoto's figure speculatively. "It adds pounds on the camera. And kami-sama knows…"
"Why you little…are you implying I'm fat?!"
"Eh…I just meant that…well, you know." struggling for words, Minako cupped her hands over her chest as if sporting a double D cup instead of a modest B. She let out an, "Eeep," as Makoto's face darkened.
"Yeah," growled the taller of the two, "I know. Now why don't I feel better?!"
"Baka. That showed as much sensitivity as a used loofah." Usagi sweatdropped as Makoto leapt on Minako with fire in her eyes. As Minako let out a screech, due to a handful of her long golden hair being caught in a death grip, Usagi quickly pulled out her cell phone and punched in a familiar number.
"Eh…Rei-chan, I need your help over at Mako-chan's place. Hurry before she kills Minako and I'll explain it all later. By the way, if she doesn't wind up in prison for offing Minako, Mako-chan's going to be on TV. Hai, I'll explain that part later too. Now hurry up! Hai. See you soon."
Switching off her communicator, Usagi waded into the fray, trying to stop one of her friends from killing the other, no matter how much she deserved it.
&X&X&X&X&X&X&X&X&X&X&X&X&X&X&X&X&X&X&X&X&X&X&X&X
"I think I'm going to throw up."
The speaker of those encouraging words was looking a little green around the gills even as a powder puff and brush dabbed artificial rosy color on her cheeks. Her lips were compressed into a thin pained white line. "Maybe," she continued tightly, "if I throw up I won't have to go on camera."
"Oh Mako-chan, do shut up," ordered Minako cheerfully as she set aside the powder and grabbed the mascara. "Now hold very still. I don't want to poke you."
Makoto froze, trying not to move or blink as the tiny wand was jabbed at her eyes with scary abandon. Blithely, Minako continued, "I'm going to make you look positively gorgeous so that when you win this competition…and I know you will, then you'll be renowned all over Tokyo…no Japan as a whole…as the most talented and beautiful pastry chef there is. The judges are male, aren't they?"
"Eh?" Without moving her lashes, Makoto shot a sidelong glance at Minako, unable to believe she'd asked that question. "Um…no. I mean, I don't know who all is judging. It never seemed all that big a deal."
"Baka," Minako groaned in disbelief. "You're supposed to find out the important stuff first."
"I did," growled Makoto. "I found out what I'd have to use to compete and what the prize money was. That's all I needed to know. I deliberately didn't want to know who was competing against me so I wouldn't get psyched out. But I can darned sure use the money."
"Baka," insisted Minako again, rummaging through her overstuffed makeup tote. "I don't believe your priorities." She broke off with a cry of triumph as the lipstick she was looking for appeared in her hand.
"You're going to knock 'em dead," murmured Rei, looking curiously around the studio 'green room' which was actually painted a sickly beige, as she plaited Makoto's long auburn locks back into a snug French braid so that they'd be out of the way while she worked…and because Minako swore that Makoto would wear a hairnet on TV only over her very dead body. She secured the braid with a hair elastic trimmed with a white silk rose. "We have total faith in you. You're the kitchen goddess, remember? Besides, this can't be half as scary as fighting youma."
"Youma could only break my arms or legs or neck," Makoto shot back at her raven-haired friend, twisting her hands together anxiously. "This could make or break my career."
Ami smiled at her nervous friend and set down her book, a Japanese translation of 'The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy'. "I believe in you, Mako-chan. You can do this. All those years of feeding Usagi had to have taught you everything you need to know. Just don't panic." She tugged a small, terrycloth item out of her handbag and waved it pertly before Makoto's wide eyes. "I'll even hold your towel for you so you know where it is."
That startled a sudden laugh from Makoto, who was promptly scolded by Minako for smearing the lipstick she was busily applying to her friend's full lips. "Gomen," Makoto apologized.
"Don't say gomen," Minako ordered, swiping at the stray lipstick mark with a tissue. She stuck her tongue out slightly as she worked. "Just be still while I do this. That's right…"
"Where is Usagi anyway?" Rei glanced around the room again. "I haven't seen her all morning. I can't believe she'd miss this. It's three of her favorite things combined. Food, television and Mako-chan."
"Oh, she's already in holding seats for us in the competition room. She wants to make sure Mako-chan's cheering section is all in one spot. She's also making sure no one messes with your stuff…not that anyone would, of course, but just try telling Usagi that. She promised she'd punish anyone who tried." An unusually bright smile flitted across Ami's lips.
"She also said she'd make sure to hold a seat for your friend Shinozaki, Mako-chan. He told her he'd be kind of late because of some work things he had to take care of, but that'd he'd get here as soon as he could. Since it's six hours of competition he should have plenty of time."
"Nani?" Jerking her head away from Minako's ministrations, Makoto leaned toward the petite bluenette who sat on the green room's tacky sofa. "Where did she even get his number? She only ever saw him that one time…in junior high. He's not even living here anymore."
"Oh…we have our ways of finding out information," Ami cracked a smirk, waving a small, dusty rose cloth covered volume in the air. "And when in doubt, we resorted to stealing your address book from your purse. You didn't think we'd let your oldest friend miss an event like this, did you? He flew in from Hokkaido yesterday."
Makoto flushed pink under the rouge that Minako had applied earlier. "I never even noticed it was missing. He's really coming?" Ami's smug smile and nod were answer enough, thrilling Makoto. All her best friends would be there for her today. "You are all absolutely evil and conniving…and I love you all to death! Arigato gozaimasu."
"Five minutes, Kino-san." The studio drone withdrew his head and shut the green room door after dropping his bomb.
"Oh kami," groaned Makoto, hopping to her feet and trying to ignore the wobbly feeling in her knees. "I've got to go. Wish me luck everybody."
"Ganbatte, Mako-chan. You can do it." Ami hugged the taller woman tightly.
"We're all proud of you," Rei added, also hugging Makoto. "You have your own little fan-club today. We're all rooting for you."
"Be sure to smile big for the camera's Mako-chan," Minako said with a satisfied smile wreathing her face and her baby blues twinkling in delight. "Because even in those god-awful white clothes you look totally hot right now. And remember, the spatula is mightier than the sword."
As Rei and Ami laughed at their friend's malapropism, Makoto groaned and headed for the door. "I certainly hope so, Minako-chan. Today I really, REALLY hope so."
&X&X&X&X&X&X&X&X&X&X&X&X&X&X&X&X&X&X&X&X&X&X&X&X
"Welcome everyone to the Food Channel's Confectionary Castle Challenge! Today our competitors are five of the most promising students to be found at Tokyo's finest culinary academies." The announcer flashed a toothy grin. "They will have six hours to complete a towering palace of candy, pastries, chocolate and other treats to inspire dreams sweeter than sugarplums. To win they will also have to be equal parts artist, architect and pastry chef. Our judges, who will observe and judge their ability, the quality, technique, degree of difficulty and overall appearance of their work, and will then decide which aspiring pastry chef's citadel of sweets is most worthy of wining the Japanese Culinary Federation's gold medal AND our check for 1,200,000 yen! Competitors…to your kitchens and may the best chef win!"
"GANBATTE NE, MAKO-CHAN!" roared a group of familiar voices from the crowd. In spite of being unable to see them due to the dazzling lights, Makoto smiled and found herself relaxing slightly as she stood behind her workspace. 'They believe in me… I can do this!'
"Competitors…BEGIN!"
The word galvanized the competitors, who leapt into motion. Makoto swung around and started the candy syrup which would be the basis of much of the decoration for her castle. White chocolate was also started melting over a double boiler. She began unwrapping the previously prepared items she had been allowed to bring to the competition. Once they were unwrapped, she swiftly began covering her sturdy pound cakes with sweet buttercream and fondant, the base for the castle that had appeared in her dreams after she'd heard about the competition. She was determined to bring the sparkling image to life in sugar and fondant.
A strange sense of peace seemed to descend on Makoto and the sickly weight in her stomach that had plagued her earlier drifted away as she was born up on the scent of sugar and chocolate and spices. She forgot about the cameras and the audience and the judges and lost herself in the pure pleasure of creating art with food.
She never stopped working as a microphone was thrust in her face asking what she hoped to achieve in her castle. "I want it to look so wonderful and whimsical and dreamy that a child…or anyone with a child-like heart would want to just come up and take a bite."
Once her base pieces were covered and textured, Makoto set about creating the sweets that would bedeck the confectionary monster. Without hurried or a wasted motion she piped out freshly made marshmallow ribbons, molded homemade gumdrops and chocolate drops, and piped royal icing conifers on ice-cream cone bases.
"It's making me hungry," Usagi whined from the audience, clinging to her fiancé's arm. "It all looks so good, Mamo-chan! Mako-chan is definitely going to make me one of these for my next birthday."
"It'd take you until the next birthday after that to finish it," Rei informed her, not unkindly. Usagi, though, remained undeterred.
"I want it."
In the kitchen next to hers, one of Makoto's competitors suffered a disaster when one of his hand-pulled and blown sugar sculptures shattered with a crash that sounded like nothing so much as broken glass. Makoto, momentarily jolted out of her 'zone' by the noise, swallowed hard, sent up a quick mental prayer to whatever deities might happen to be listening, and bent her head back over her work. She was busy sculpting and painting figures of marzipan and didn't dare become too distracted.
Unbeknownst to her and the live-audience as well, the camera was loving the intense, emerald-eyed brunette chef-in-training. Minako would later claim full credit for making Makoto into a vision in spite of the blindingly white, starchy chef's gear she wore. While other competitors were sweating, Mako glowed, and beautifully too.
The camera was not the only one watching her closely either. As the various judges circulated amongst the competitors, one dark eyed judge's keen and appreciative gaze kept returning time and again to the young woman who was completely oblivious to his presence, lost in her work.
The other competitors, save for the one who had suffered the sugar breakage, had long since begun assembling their fairy tale castles when Makoto finally started to put hers together. Slowly the mystery of her building began to come together.
"Ohmigosh," gasped Minako as she elbowed Ami in the ribs. "Is she making what I think she's making?"
"Masaka," breathed Rei.
Makoto's own personal cheering section gazed on in wonder as the fabulous dome of the Moon Kingdom's Silver Millennium palace, glittering with sanding sugar and studded with fruit gems, was set into place between sprinkle bedecked, ice-cream cone capped turrets and capped with a glittering crescent moon made from a single rolled spice drop. The fondant-covered walls of her castle glittered with dazzling stained glass-like windows of her hard candies. The corner beads were of red licorice twists. Chocolate kisses and butterscotch drops formed the crenellations high on the walls. Below minty rock candy shrubs and lollypop flowers shimmered in the brilliant overhead light.
The effect was made even more spectacular when she poured out a reflecting pool of blue sugar candy over foil edged in ladyfingers and flanked by fountains of peppermint sticks and bonbons which poured forth sprays of tinted spun sugar candy floss. Paths of multi-colored taffy and jelly nougats led from the pool to the castle.
In a competition where medieval styled fantasy castles were the norm, Makoto's sleeker, fanciful design was unique and very different from the rest of the competition. It was spectacular. It was romantic.
It was…populated.
Her friends watched, fascinated, as she began placing the marzipan figurines she had sculpted earlier. The Princess of Mars and a blond man in a uniform of white and dark chocolate appeared to be arguing…or at least the woman was. The man's candy face seemed rather more amused than anything else, almost smirking. Rei laughed as she noted the pugnacious position of 'her' hands on marzipan hips and the slight scowl on her candy double's face.
The figure of the Mercurian Princess knelt to one side by the reflecting pool, another blond man sitting beside her. This man's uniform was the same as the first, but his hair was long, pulled back in a sculpted queue. Ami determined then and there to later demand from her friend an explanation of where that particular inspiration had come from. She had to know.
Usagi grinned merrily as she spotted a figure sporting a very distinctive hairstyle wrapped in the arms of a familiar male figure in black armor accented with silver lustre dust. They were placed on the parapet beneath the gleaming central dome.
Minako wished desperately for a pair of binoculars when she noted a Venusian figure with shimmering golden hair being placed beside a caped figure with hair as silver as the Endymion figure's armor and two candy shard 'swords' were crossed between them. Neither face showed fear or anger, she thought, but rather affection a hint of good natured challenge. Still, she definitely wanted a better look and was determined to get in close afterward.
Makoto gingerly placed the final figurines, a pony-tailed brunette in a flowing dress of green tinted marzipan beside a tree of pink candy roses. One of the judges found himself holding his breath as another brunette figure, male, was set beside her, holding out a perfect sugar rose for her marzipan hand to take.
The crowd was murmuring under their breaths. The working time of six hours, which had once seemed so long but had actually flown by, was drawing to a close and most of the pieces appeared all but done. There was only one major hurdle that remained for each competitor.
Letting out a sigh, Makoto stepped away from her workspace and gazed in total, rapt satisfaction at her creation. She let out a soft sound of approval, then blushed faintly as she realized she'd been hugging herself in delight. From the day she'd first heard of the competition she'd dreamt feverishly at night of what her entry would be. The dreams had been the clearest memories she'd ever had from the Moon Kingdom, leaving her aching to recreate its glory in some small way. Her castle, now complete, was everything she'd seen in her dreams and more. Everything single thing she'd imagined it could be.
Now she just had to move it, and that was the tricky part.
It was, they said, a test of the practicality of any design. For of course, any show piece would have to be moved from the kitchen where it was created to wherever its final destination was. Therefore, the design, no matter how grandiose, would have to be ultimately portable.
That thought drew a grin from Makoto. Her senshi strength would make this part a piece of cake, relatively speaking. Slow and steady would be the key. The crowd gasped as the various competitors began moving their pieces, some nearly staggering under the weight. One by one the castles were transferred to the display tables, Makoto's coming last as she'd been placing a few last-minute spearmint leaves around the candy garden. She slid her arms around the base board and hefted it. The judges smiled. She appeared to have this well in hand.
Moving as if in slow motion, she turned and eased her way toward the fabric draped exhibition table. Everyone held their breaths for a long moment as she gently guided the board onto the tablecloth and slid her fingers out from underneath, letting the weight of the piece finally come to rest on the table top.
Calamity struck without warning as the legs of one side of the table, which had not been properly secured, gave way under the heavy burden. The onlookers, competitors, and all but one of the judges watched in mute horror as Makoto's masterpiece and six hour long labor of love slammed to the floor in a spray of candy and sugar icing. The gleaming dome of the Silver Millennium palace was again smashed, this time in a mass of gooey crumbs. The dark eyed judge swore. Out in the audience Usagi burst into tears and threw herself into Mamoru's arms, sobbing brokenly.
Rei's face had gone red with fury and the look on her face boded ill if she had occasion to catch the slacker who had not secured the catch on the table leg.
"It's not fair! It's not her fault it smashed, but the table's! Someone screwed up, but she's going to pay the price!" she ranted as her hands clenched as if tightening around someone's guilty throat.
Minako's face had gone stark white and she shook her head, trying to deny what she'd seen, while Ami dug her nails into her palms until they nearly bled and silvery tears glistened in her eyes.
"We need to go to her," Usagi insisted, sniffling into Mamoru's handkerchief.
Mamoru shook his head, watching as Shinozaki leapt from his seat and sprinted toward the nearest door.
"No…let him. Let him go to her. You all can comfort her later."
Makoto was near to tears herself as she realized that her chance at winning was gone. She felt sick to her stomach. There was simply no time to recover. Still, she had to control herself. She refused to break down on television. She would uphold the honor of her school and maintain her composure.
Taking a deep, shuddery breath, she knelt down and began removing the marzipan figurines from the shattered remnants of her castle, gently wiping the excess icing off them with a dishtowel and placing them, couple by couple, on her work counter. For they alone had survived the cataclysm.
When the final pair was placed on the gleaming stainless steel surface, the crowd cheered for the proud, indomitable young lady who exemplified grace under adversity. The buzzer shrilled signifying that the competition period had ended. Makoto smiled weakly and made a slight bow toward the audience before she resumed cleaning up the mess. By the time the judges had completed their work, her work area would be as spotless as it had been at the start. Makoto always tried to leave things as clean, if not cleaner, than when she found them and today it was all she could do.
The rest of the competition was really rather anti-climactic after Makoto's spectacular mishap. Although it was not her fault, Makoto could not hope to win the contest without a castle to present. Still, if she could not win the prize money, she had won the hearts of an audience and the respect of many members of the culinary community. When the winner was announced, the audience response was somewhat muted and the winner, another young student of the pastry arts from the Nerima area of Tokyo, seemed subdued, almost embarrassed. She quietly accepted the oversized check and bobbed a polite bow. She smiled, but studiously avoided looking in Makoto's direction. For her part, Makoto clapped louder than anyone else to congratulate the winner.
From the sidelines, Shinozaki paced, popping an antacid tablet as his stomach churned. He had arrived halfway through the competition and had, to his total horror, witnessed the disaster unfold. As soon as the red lights on the television cameras clicked off, he rushed to Makoto's side, enfolding her in a protective embrace, heedless of quantity of icing that was transferring itself to his suit via her spattered apron.
"Daijoubu, Mako-chan? I am so sorry! It's not fair. You would have won if there was any justice in this world!" He rambled, hardly pausing for breath.
A bit awkwardly she embraced her old friend while he stroked her hair. It had been so long since she'd seen him and now this…she wasn't sure exactly how to talk to him at the moment. His warm and familiar embrace was calling on her to weep on his broad shoulder, but she really didn't want to do that today.
"I'm okay, Shin-kun. Really. These things happen to everyone sooner or later. That's just the way the proverbial cookie crumbles sometimes. I just won't let it get to me and I'll keep cooking. They say," she said, trying hard to sound casual, "that those persons who love roses will have patience with their thorns. Today was just a really…thorny day, I guess."
Forcing her hands between their bodies, she pushed him slightly away from her and met his golden-brown gaze.
Shinozaki shot her a blatantly skeptical look and Makoto cursed under her breath, biting her lip. That was the problem with having friends who'd known you since you were in diapers. They always knew when you were lying. For although she was straining to maintain her composure, both Shinozaki and Makoto knew that, when she got back to the privacy of her own home, she'd indulge herself in a good, old-fashioned sob fest of the kind she usually reserved for when her heart had been broken, including indulging in her own private comfort vices, a whole tart cherry pie with ice cream and a marathon of weepy chick flicks. But for once she wouldn't add in the usual box of chocolate cherry cordials.
She really didn't want to look at candy of any sort for a very long time.
"Let's go, Mako-chan," he urged her, trying to draw her off toward the sidelines.
"Wait," she murmured, holding up a restraining hand. "I want to take these with me." Her solemn green gaze swept over the marzipan figurines of the Silver Millennium.
Shinozaki's brow furrowed. "Why?"
"I don't know," she murmured, picking up one of the figurines and holding it in her hand for a moment before sighing and putting it back. "I just do."
She'd give them to the girls, she thought. Rei-chan and Minako-chan and Ami-chan. Usagi and Mamoru would have to share, but that was okay, since they already always did. That thought made her smile, a real smile this time.
"They…make me feel better, even in spite of everything. You can't keep a good princess down, you know. Not even when the castle crumbles around her ears. It's kind of like a romance…as long as there's hope, there's always a chance for a happy ending somewhere down the line."
"Erm…Kino-san? May I speak to you for a moment?"
The voice, low and slightly rough, was unfamiliar to Makoto and she turned around to see one of the judges from the panel standing before her. She slid her gaze up to his name tag and recognized the name instantly. Sanjouin Masato was renowned throughout Japan for his restaurants and his exceptional business sense. He'd taken failing restaurants and turned them into powerhouses that were known for their fine cuisine, elegant atmosphere and exceptional service, a feat that had her utmost respect. She hadn't realized, though, that he was so handsome…or so young. He couldn't be that much older than she herself. Maybe five years or so at most. Her admiration grew.
"Konnichiwa, Sanjouin-san."
"Konnichiwa," he flashed her a brilliant smile that Makoto felt down to her toes and shook his head. "Please accept my sympathy regarding the unfortunate accident. From everything I saw you had a more than excellent chance at winning the competition. Your design was creative and your execution and technique were nearly flawless."
A warm flush of pleasure stained Makoto's cheeks and a familiar, electric sparkle began to glimmer in the depths of her forest-green eyes. "You're very kind to say so, Sanjouin-san."
"Not at all," he said smoothly. "Someone with your caliber of skills will be in high demand. I understand, Kino-san, that you're almost finished with your training at the culinary institute. I am always on the lookout for new talent for my restaurants and I would be most interested in hiring a person of your exceptional talent. Perhaps, after you've changed, you would allow me the honor of escorting you to an early dinner tonight and we could discuss your future." He flicked his warm chocolate gaze over Makoto's bare ring finger then toward Shinozaki's protective posture and paused for a moment as if groping for words. "That is, if your boyfriend wouldn't take exception."
"My boyfriend?" A mystified blink was Makoto's initial response, then she chuckled softly. "Oh gomen, Sanjouin-san, but you're under a slight misapprehension. Shinozaki-kun isn't my boyfriend."
Shinozaki stiffened.
She placed a hand on her friend's arm and drew him forward. As she turned to pull him forward, she missed the relieved grin that spread across Masato's face at her words, however, Shinozaki spotted it instantly. A lifetime's worth of big-brothering and a bit more kicked into gear, raising his hackles, as he read the unmistakable interest in the taller man's dark eyes. Something about the man's name nagged at him too.
"I don't know where my manners are," Makoto murmured, sounding slightly embarrassed. "Allow me to introduce you. This is Kishi Shinozaki, a very old friend who flew in to see me compete. Shinozaki-kun, this is Sanjouin-san. He's practically a legend in the gourmet restaurant industry."
Forgoing the traditional Japanese bow, Shinozaki stuck out his hand toward Masato, who paused for the barest fraction of a second before taking the younger man's hand. A quiet struggle left both men white-knuckled and gritting their teeth. A very male look of understanding, if not accord, passed between the two males as they looked at each other over the top of Makoto's head.
"So about that dinner, Kino-san?" Masato rubbed his sore hand. The young man in the suit, who smirked at Masato's actions, was possessed of a surprisingly strong grip.
"Oh hai." She twisted back to face Masato, glancing up at him speculatively through her lashes. "I'm sure Shinozaki-kun understands the way business works, Sanjouin-san." She tossed a quick pleading backward glance at her best friend. He'd understand her needing to, as Minako would have said, 'stroke while the iron's hot'.
"Of course, Makoto," Shinozaki replied, giving the only possible answer he could when Makoto had that imploring look on her face. We'll do our catching up later." He shot another look at Masato that said clearly, 'Hurt her and I hurt you.' A slight narrowing of the taller man's eyes and a curt nod indicated that his message had been received and understood. "Please excuse me Sanjouin-san."
"It was a pleasure meeting you Kishi-san." Masato was cool courtesy personified as he watched the other man withdraw, though he smiled, distinctly pleased. Could he be blamed for thinking that it was even nicer pleasure to see Kishi-san go? Of course not.
"Well then," Makoto said cheerfully oblivious to the testosterone-laden air around her, "if you'll excuse me Sanjouin-san, I'll go get cleaned up."
"Of course." He nodded and caught her hand, brushing a quick continental kiss over it before turning to stride away. "I'll be waiting in the green room when you're ready, Kino-san."
"Ha…hai…" Hot color flamed on Makoto's face and her stomach did a flip-flop that had only partially to do with the fact that her career star looked like it was on the rise…though that was certainly the greater part. To have impressed the likes of Sanjouin-san was a true coup. She spun around and pressed her hand over her heart, which felt like it was brimming over with sudden giddy hope and optimism.
"Mako-chan…" Shinozaki's voice was a bit chill, filled with warning.
"Nani? What's the matter Shin-kun?" Confused, Makoto really looked at him. She'd thought he'd be happy for her possible big break…especially coming after her, well, big and unfortunately televised break. Or at least happy she wasn't sobbing raccoon rings of mascara all over his suit jacket.
He sighed; he couldn't bring her down after what had happened earlier. It would be too cruel. "Oh nothing, Mako-chan. I suppose you'd better go get ready. Hope it goes well tonight."
"Arigato, Shin-kun." She hugged him tightly, figuring that since he was already crusted with crumbs and icing a little more wouldn't matter. It didn't. What was a slight crumb coating, after all, between two people who'd swapped baby bottles and chewed one another's bubblegum? "You're a good friend. This means a lot to me."
'A friend is all I think I'll ever be to you.' He smiled wistfully as she walked away from him. 'I know. Goseiko o, Mako-chan.'
"Shin-kun," Makoto murmured, turning around just before she left the room. "Would you please give the marzipan sculptures to my friends and tell them I'll call them later?" When he nodded, she flashed him a dazzling smile and more danced than walked out of sight, humming tunelessly to herself, blissfully forgetful of the fact that she'd likely have to run the gantlet of the girls before she'd be going anywhere with Sanjouin-san.
Left standing before the work area, Shinozaki peered speculatively at each of the figurines. The female ones and one of the males looked very much like Makoto's friends from school. He supposed he'd give each girl one of the male sculpture as well, since it appeared that Makoto had paired them up. He idly wondered if those were their boyfriends or something or if she'd just made them up to add symmetry to the piece.
Reaching out a hand he stroked a tender fingertip over the wistful-looking princess with the ponytail. He'd have known that face anywhere. Oddly enough, the sculpture's flowing gown and tiara suited his somewhat tomboyish friend just as well as her sneakers and jeans. He smiled a bit ruefully. Kami knew that when she lost her temper, Makoto could be as imperious and scathing as any royal, tiara or no tiara. He'd been darned lucky she hadn't picked up on his little grudge match with Sanjouin.
Shinozaki scowled slightly as the thought of the man.
Slowly he reached out a hand and picked up the one remaining marzipan sculpture, the one she'd held before that judge had come upon them, fighting the childishly destructive urge to squash it. Then, however, he peered at it more closely and began turning it around and around as he shook his head in sudden wonder.
For though she hadn't so much as glanced up while working on the treats, and knowing Makoto as he did, probably not during the whole competition due to being absorbed in her work, somehow she had managed to create in sweetened almond paste an uncanny likeness of Sanjouin Masato. The figure's coffee-colored hair was longer and the clothing was that of another time and place, but the image was unmistakable and the candy man's face was filled with devotion as he held out the sugar rose for his marzipan sweetheart.
Shinozaki had the sudden unnerving thought that he was seeing destiny in his hands. He picked up the green-gowned princess figure again and held it next to the other. The two belonged together, both halves of one whole. Like they had a past and were supposed to be joined again or something. He was sure of it…he just wasn't sure why he was so sure. The notion was distinctly discomfiting.
Without warning his mind dredged up a piece of flotsam that explained the reason why the man's name had sounded so familiar. Perhaps seven or eight years before Sanjouin Masato had made headlines throughout Japan when, following an accident, he emerged from a severe coma that had persisted for more than a year. Nearly everyone had given up hope of recovery, but his family insisted he would return to them, and then one day he'd awakened without warning, as if he'd simply laid down for a short nap and awakened refreshed. It had been branded a miracle and the press had been all over it for a while. His family had just said they'd never doubted it for a moment, as it wasn't his time because their son had great things to do with his life someday.
Makoto's earlier words echoed in his ears as he glanced down at the marzipan couple. 'As long as there's hope, there's always a chance for a happy ending somewhere down the line.'
"Goseiko o, Mako-chan," Shinozaki murmured, placing both marzipan statues carefully in a plastic container to take back to Makoto's place, feeling suddenly relieved somehow. "Find your happy ending this time. No one deserves one more. Ganbatte ne."
(Author's Note: 1,200,000 yen, the prize money amount, is roughly $10,000 US at the time of this writing. The idea came to me after seeing a Food Network competition like this and $10,000 was the prize. Sorry if the story's as overly sugary as the castles…the vicious plot bunnies insisted and withheld chocolate from me until I caved. What can I say? I'm only human. :) Standard disclaimers apply. I don't own the Sailor Moon characters or the Food Network. But I enjoy watching both.
Sugoi – Terrific/Amazing
Itai – Ouch
Baka – Idiot
Hai – Yes
Gomen – Sorry,
Arigato gozaimasu – Thank you
Ganbatte ne – Don't give up!/Do your best!
Masaka – It can't be!
Daijoubu – Are you okay?
Konnichiwa – Good Afternoon/Hello
Nani – What
Goseiko o – Good luck