One of the Team, a tokyo mew mew fanfic

One of the Team

By Laura Schiller

Based on: Tokyo Mew Mew

Akasaka-san's spare uniform looks ridiculous on me. The trousers are too long, the shirt too wide in the shoulders, and my hands fumble with the slick black silk of the bow tie. I can't get the knot right. At opening time, I'm going to look like a complete idiot in front of Ichigo and a bunch of giggling girls, and she'll burn with embarrassment on my behalf and wonder why she ever agreed to this, and –

"Relax, Masaya-san. There's no need to be nervous." My new employer appears behind me, his outfit immaculate, his brown eyes smiling kindly at my reflection in the men's changing-room mirror. He takes a pincushion out of his pocket, moves over to me, and smoothes down the linen with all the gentle competence of a woman.

He knows exactly how nervous I am, even though I've tried my best not to show it. A year ago, this would have worried me, but today it's a comfort.

"With a few alterations, it should do fine. Arms out, please, and hold still while I get you fitted."

"Aoyama-onii-chan! I'm Pudding! Remember, na no da?"

She launches herself at me in a blur of golden hair and fabric, almost knocking me over with her welcome hug.

"Hello, Pudding. Nice to see you again." I smile despite myself. My foster-parents told me to be polite to my new co-workers, but for the life of me, I can't call her "Pudding-san". Honorifics and this girl go together like chocolate and sardines. It's a bit unnerving.

"Pudding's so happy you're on the team now, na no da! The Blue Knight is awesome! We thought it might be Shirogane-onii-chan, but we're so happy it's you instead, because who better to be Ichigo-'nee-chan's knight in shining armor than her actual boyfriend? She's going to be so happy! Are you happy too, na no da? Are you and Ichigo-'nee-chan really in love, like a fairy tale? Are you gonna get married and have babies and - "

"Pudding! Geez! What did I tell you?"

Ichigo grabs her friend by the apron-string and – thank goodness! – hauls her away. It seems that, like the English food her name resembles, our smallest staff member is best enjoyed in small doses.

The sound of swearing behind Shirogane-san's office door tells me he's having computer trouble for the third time this week. I don't much like that man, but if it stops him from taking out his sulky mood on Ichigo, I've got to try and help him. I knock on the door, take his silence as an invitation, and peer over his shoulder – from a safe distance – at the string of gibberish on the screen.

Gibberish to him, but strikingly familiar to me.

The Cyniclons are trying to hack us. I don't know how I know this, but I do.

"No offense, kid," he says, "But when I was your age, I was already taking IT courses at Tokyo University. I think I know a little bit more about computers than you."

"No offense, sir," I reply through the tingle of energy pouring through my veins. "But you really don't."

The Blue Knight brushes him aside and bends over the keyboard, pale fingers moving with a pianist's expertise. The brightness of Mew Aqua, however, has nothing on the neon-blue blaze of Shirogane-san's glare.

He doesn't trust the Blue Knight, and no wonder. I don't either. But for Ichigo's sake, what else is there to do but work together?

"I said skim milk, you idiot, and Sweet-n-Low instead of sugar!"

The shrill voice makes me grimace. I look over to see a sharp-faced brunette pushing a coffee cup back into Lettuce-san's trembling hands.

"I – I'm sorry – but I told you, we don't – "

"Every Saturday I come here, and you can't even bother to remember my order?"

The Blue Knight stirs – not the fierce rush of protectiveness that would signal Ichigo in danger, but a slow pulse in the back of my head. I force him down. Drawing a sword on a customer, while tempting, would be highly unprofessional.

"I'm afraid we're all out of artificial sweeteners at the moment, miss," I tell her firmly. "I can bring you something else, if you'd like. Herbal tea perhaps?"

The brunette blushes and gawks at me. Lettuce-san's eyes behind their owl-like glasses are bright with relief.

"You take ballet lessons, don't you?"

Minto-san's eyes widen above the rim of her porcelain teacup. "Why, yes. Did Ichigo tell you?"

"Yes. Also, you've got the perfect figure for it."

"Really?" She looks away, flustered, which surprises me. Given the way she looks at Zakuro-san, I'd have thought that she at least would be immune to this sort of thing. Besides, I'm not even trying to flirt.

"Ballet is all about hard work and discipline, isn't it? And giving your partner everything you've got. I respect that, Minto-san."

"Thank you." She smiles demurely. "It is hard work, but one does one's best."

And without further ado, she puts her cup back in its saucer, ties her apron snugly around her waist, and heads for Table Six to take their orders.

"You owe me dinner," I whisper down the back of Ichigo's dress. "I told you I could get her out of that chair."

It's near the end of my shift and my feet are killing me. So are my arms from carrying stacks of plates, my back from hunching over the sink washing dishes, and especially my face from that welcoming smile Shirogane-san ordered me to wear. If I thought kendo was good exercise, it's nothing to being a waiter on a Saturday afternoon.

"Thank you," I sing-song to three elderly ladies, dodging their canes and walkers as they leave. "Come again!"

"It's been a pleasure, dearie," one says, pinching my cheek. By some miracle, I manage not to wince.

Zakuro-san catches my eye across the room, a faint smirk on her lips. I may not be a professional like her, but she still knows a fellow actor when she sees one. Tough day, I know, her face tells me. But your performance could use some work.

Then Ichigo walks past me with a swing of her hips and a sparkle in her brown eyes, crinkling her nose at me in comic sympathy. I grimace back: the first sincere expression I've worn all day.

Zakuro-san is still watching me. I half expect her to dispprove of this "dropping out of character", but in her sharp blue eyes, I see only respect.