Hello, my lovelies! :) Here's my entry for Round 10 of the YGO Fanfiction Contest, and it's for the pairing Shadowshipping (Yami Yuugi x Shizuka), which I was not happy about. It just struck me as a really boring pairing, which might be why I found it so hard to come up with a story for it! :/ Anyway, this is what I've managed- I'm not trying to give an excuse for it, but you will be able to tell I had a difficult time meeting the time restrictions, it's awfully rushed! And... strange. Very, very strange.
Ah well, I'm experimenting with styles! xD
Anyway, I hope you're at least intrigued by this, even if you don't enjoy it!
Pairing(s): Shadowshipping, and a split second of Peachshipping.
Warnings: AU, Obscure mental illnesses, murder, lacking in a final proofread and a whole lot of cooking. Yes, this story will genuinelly give you a cavity.
Castella
Ingredients:
8 whole eggs
300g of raw cane sugar
200g of bread flour
100cc of milk
4 tbs of honey
Shizuka paused as she surveyed the ingredients lined up on the counter, mentally ticking off the list in her head; her friends would always laugh at her and her ridiculously organised method of cooking, but she just couldn't get started if it wasn't all exactly right.
She'd always done it this way. This ritual- it wouldn't do to upset the ritual, the ceremony of the whole thing.
(Shizuka wasn't superstitious so much as nervous- castella was notoriously difficult, and it had to be perfect for her customers…)
Mix together the milk and the honey.
Shizuka hummed to herself as she worked in her little kitchen, flicking the boiling water off with the ease that had come with practice and whisking the eggs as she kept one eye on the hot water with an air of what anyone watching her would call complacency.
Not complacency. Never that; Shizuka knew that if one tiny thing went wrong she would have to start over again, and she couldn't let herself down like that…
Methodical. That was a better way of putting it.
Measure the flour and sugar. Double-sift the flour.
Shizuka loved to cook. She always had, ever since her beloved big brother had burnt himself cooking their tea when she was four, and she'd had to take over.
(Her mother had been horrified- not so much at the fact that Jou had burnt himself, but more over the mess they made of her spotless kitchen. Her twisted frown as she pointedly ignored the plate of food Shizuka had held up to her hopefully was something Shizuka had never been able to shake from her mind.)
Break the eggs and whisk. Add the sugar.
And it had seemed so logical that despite everything her teachers, her friends, her partners had ever told her that she should take it up professionally.
So, ignoring the doubtful "But it doesn't pay" from her mother, the plaintive "At least think about university? You're one of our best students!" from her teachers, and the sceptical "Cooking? Really?" from her friends, Shizuka had saved up and bought a tiny café in downtown Domino on her 19th birthday.
Jou was the only one who wasn't surprised.
Whisk the flour and honey, and pour the batter into the pan.
Dusting her hands off on her apron, Shizuka gripped the edges of the pan and slid it into the oven, setting a timer for 50 minutes and then turning away to prepare the glaze.
Her eyes caught on the photo tacked to the window frame, and she smiled in spite of herself at the image; it was of her and Jou sitting on the beach, taken only last month. He'd taken her there as a twentieth birthday present, and they'd spent the day relaxing with friends in the warm summer sun.
It had been a great day.
(One of the few.)
Mix together honey and hot water.
Shizuka's smile tightened momentarily, before she forced herself to think of other things.
(Because Jou would come back from his travels, he had promised that day that he would return to her and her little bakery…)
Take the cake out of the oven and glaze it.
(Don't look back.)
Mochi Ice Cream
"Shizuka! Hey, Shizuka!"
Shizuka poked her head around the kitchen door, only to see Rebecca (the student who worked part time in the bakery) looking rather harassed. "Shizuka, I have a customer here with some questions-"
Shizuka shook her head and turned back to the counter top where she was rolling out some dough. "If it's the man calling about the ice cream, tell him, as I said the previous three times he called, that we only have the facilities to make matcha, strawberry and azuki flavour ice cream- if he wants to have vanilla then he will just have to wait until tomorrow when the ingredients arrive!"
Rebecca replied very quickly, still sounding quite anxious. "Shizuka, maybe you should come out here…"
Shizuka rolled her eyes in amusement. Honestly; the girl was brilliant when it came to her scientific calculations, but dealing with customers was definitely not her forte.
"Okay, I'm coming, but you really need to learn how to -" Her voice trailed away as she entered the kitchen and saw a pair of police officers standing there, looking awkwardly out of place among the bright decorations and coloured sweet stands.
"Officers," she nodded nervously, coming to stand next to Rebecca who immediately busied herself behind the till. "Is there something wrong?"
"Miss Kawai, is it?"
Roll out sweet rice flour dough. Cut into sheets, and then place in freezer.
Shizuka nodded, mentally going over all the things that could have happened- she wasn't in any debt, her bakery obeyed all the rules, no one had complained about the food…
"We're terribly sorry," then came the awkward look at each other that so clearly said 'We don't want to have to tell you this'. "But we have reason to believe that we have found your brother."
Place ice cream on sheets and wrap them up into balls.
"J-Jou? You've found him!" Shizuka suddenly grabbed the nearest stand, giddy with relief. "Oh, thank you, thank you so much-"
(There was a small part of her brain that wondered why the officers looked so sympathetic, why they didn't seem as happy as she was when they'd been on this case for so many years…)
"Miss Kawai, I'm so sorry. Your brother is dead."
The best flavours to use are Green Tea matchi or vanilla, but many others such as chocolate, asuki or strawberry can also be used…
"We need you to identify the body. Would you come with us, please?"
Shizuka later thought she must have stopped breathing, stopped living for those short seconds that she stood in her bright, joyful cake shop in front of the police officers. She'd always thought moments like that would be when time slowed down, but for her…time just stopped.
All she could think was how Jou had loved mochi ice cream more than anything.
Place back in freezer before eating.
(Don't look back.)
Shizuka didn't cook for Jou's funeral.
There was food, of course, but it wasn't provided by her. She wasn't really aware of anything that day- but she vaguely remembered Anzu (she hadn't seen her in years, not since before Jou had vanished) taking charge of the catering, crying quietly all the while.
As she stood by the grave with a group of his old friends- Anzu sobbing into Yuugi's jacket, Honda with silent tears pouring down his face, Ryou and Otogi with bowed heads- she thought it was slightly ironic.
Jou had always loved her cooking.
And the first day she hadn't cooked anything since he had left (oh god, why had he left?) was the day she had to say goodbye.
(Don't under any circumstances, never ever even think about it, don't look back.)
Sata Andagi
Heat oil in a deep skillet.
Shizuka hummed to herself as she measured out the oil for her latest batch of sata andagi, and felt a sudden pang as she realised that she shouldn't be humming, that was for people who weren't in mourning, who weren't crying themselves to sleep every single night-
But no. It had been nearly two months, and these pangs were becoming fewer and further in between. She had to carry on with her life; it was what Jou would have told her to do.
Beat the eggs, milk and vanilla together.
Shizuka kept her hands still on the scales as she sifted the flour through, refusing to allow her hands to shake.
All that mattered was her little bakery in the backstreets of Domino. That was all that was important right now.
(And finding out whatever murderer had killed her beloved brother.)
The police had no leads, which didn't surprise Shizuka- they had been looking for Jou for three years before they found him. He had left her without excuses, without explanation, and they had never even figured out why, let alone where he had gone.
Three years.
And yet, judging by the autopsy they had run on the body (barely a body anymore, barely recognisable, merely a rotting corpse; she only knew him from the dentist records and the faded picture of her they'd found in his wallet), Jou had only been dead for around two months.
Died of asphyxiation, they said. 'Strangled,' she had replied, numbly.
Someone had killed him.
Shizuka wanted to know why.
Sift flour and sugar. Add baking powder and salt.
The bell above the door of the bakery rang shrilly, and Shizuka rubbed her hands on her apron roughly so that she could serve the customer; entering the kitchen she fixed her bright 'sales-person' smile on her face, and asked politely, "What can I do for you?"
Which was when the man turned around slowly and smiled a hesitant, almost dangerous smile in return. "Shizuka. It's been too long."
"Yami?"
Stir until the dough is smooth.
Her brother's old friend inclined his head as his eyes (Shizuka didn't remember them being such a piercing red) darted around the small room, taking in everything- the decorations, the sweet stands, the cakes on display that were more works of art than food. "The very same. I didn't think you would remember me."
Shizuka nodded stiffly and turned back to the counter. "I must say, Yami, you are a difficult man to forget."
Place teaspoonfuls of dough in the hot oil.
Yami's eyes glinted and a smirk quirked at his lips. "You're just how I remember you."
Shizuka returned his gaze as fearlessly as she could. "I'll take that as a compliment."
The pair stood there for what felt like hours, but could only have been seconds, old resentment rising to the forefront of Shizuka's mind. The last time they had met... It had been the day after Jou left, the day after her 19th birthday- Yami had come to her, passion flaring in his eyes, begging her to come with him, imploring her to run away with him, telling her he loved her, he would marry her, she would be so happy with him...
Shizuka had shrunk back in shock; they had just been good friends, she had had no idea that he felt like that, how could she have...?
She had been scared by the fire in his eyes. Strangely fearful of this boy who she knew so well, yet in that moment looked so different.
So she had stammered some reply, some poorly phrased refusal. They had fought. He had begged, pleaded, threatened- she had turned away, pushed him off, wept.
"What's so important? What's so important that you need to stay here, in this run-down little town? Shizuka- I'll take you places you never even dreamed of-"
"My bakery, Yami. That's what's so important. I'm going to open a bakery."
"You're giving me up because you want to cook?"
"And I promised my brother... I promised I'd wait for him. I won't leave until he comes back to me."
They had parted on such bad terms, and when Shizuka had gone over to the Game Shop the following week, desperate to fix their broken friendship, she was met with a grave-eyed Yuugi and the simple message: He's gone.
Three years.
Fry until golden brown.
The air in her little shop was suddenly fraught with stale tension.
"Where have you been?"
"Away."
"I gathered that much, Yami. You didn't even say goodbye."
(An accusation, not a question.)
"I didn't think you wanted me to."
"I didn't want to marry you, not lose you altogether!"
"I didn't mean marry right away, I was just-"
"Yami, don't make excuses! I rejected you, and you up and left because you couldn't understand that a girl could turn you down!"
Her shout echoed through the room; his red (blood red, really) eyes narrowed.
"You know how I feel about you."
"No, Yami, I don't. I don't understand how you can say you love someone when you haven't seen them in three years!" Shizuka threw up her hands in frustration and turned her back on him.
"I do, Shizuka, I really do. I love you," came the level, almost pleading answer.
Shizuka buried her head in her hands. "I told you I didn't love you, and that hasn't changed."
Yami's smirk suddenly became almost pitying. "You said you wouldn't come with me until Jou returned. He returned, didn't he?"
Shizuka's heart clenched. Oh, he doesn't know… "Yami, Jou never came back. He's dead."
"I know."
Shizuka later realised it was the calm, cold indifference which shocked her the most. He didn't even blink.
"I know he's dead. But he came back to you didn't he- you waited for him, and he came back. Even if he wasn't alive."
Shizuka could almost detect a trace of cold humour in his tone, and perhaps it was this more than anything that made something click in her brain.
Drain, and serve hot.
(Don't look back.)
"I love you, Shizuka."
Without answering, without even feeling anything, she walked slowly over to the shop phone. Picking it up, she dialled three numbers before turning to him and saying quite coolly: "You can't, Yami-"
"-You can't, do you hear me? You can't love me, Yami!"
Her voice seems to bounce off the white walls of the ward- cell, more like- and she can't help but pity the broken figure stretched out on the bench.
Then she remembers what he did.
Then she hates him again.
"I love you, Shizuka, I love you. Please, Shizuka, I did it for us…"
(It's all he ever says to her.)
She turns without replying, and leaves the ward. (The guard locks him in behind her.) She checks in with the doctor on the way out, but there is no change:
"We haven't increased his medication or anything, Miss Kawai, since you last visited."
She breathes out in frustration and taps her finger on the desk. "But I thought he would at least be showing some improvement; he doesn't say anything else, just 'I love you' over and over…"
The doctor looks at her sympathetically. "He's fixated on you, Miss, it's his condition-"
"Yes, 'obsessive love disorder', I know," Shizuka interrupts, tersely. She's so tired of being told it's all because of his 'condition'. "Call it what you will, but in the end he's just the sick, crazy bastard that murdered my brother."
The doctor shakes her head before leaving to check on another patient. "If you hate him so much, why do you visit every week?"
Shizuka can't answer that.
So she just leaves the hospital, leaves the man she could have loved, leaves the broken shell of her old friend, leaves it all behind her and returns to another day of baking in her little shop.
It had always been her dream, after all.
What shall I make today? she ponders, as she fishes in her bag for her car keys.
Castella, maybe. Always so popular with the customers.
She would need milk, flour, sugar, honey-
She ticks off the ingredients in her head as she walks away from the hospital.
(Don't look back.)
Hmm. Yes. Well, I had an original plunny to do something really cute with chef!Shizuka and customer!Yami, and it just evolved into this... thing!
On the upside, I learnt a whole lot about Japanese desserts! :D (You have no idea how hungry writing this fic made me...)
Anyway, all the information on Japanese cooking is authentic and I can direct you to the websites where I got it all from if you ask me. Also, 'Obsessive Love Disorder'is a real, if badly named, illness, symptoms of which include:
' Fixation on one person who they believe hold the key to their ultimate happiness.'
'Denial that the relationship has ended.'
'Obsessive love stalking [...] murder and other destructive activities.'
- pysch . net
Anyway, thanks very much for reading this! :)
Bookworm
