Petite Recette du Bonheur
A Tiny Recipe of Happiness
Greetings!
Thank you for stumbling onto this tiny story~ho ho ho
to start off with, I don't know French (at all); so I suppose if there's anything wrong with the title - please forgive me!
I think this fic is a quirky and a rather queer tale. So, it's not the usual fic one should expect (I suppose?) -- I attempted to bring in the pairing, though I'm quite aware I'm not exactly good with romance haha. I don't know how well one can handle this fic but...hopefully, hopefully!!! someone will enjoy this fic!
Disclaimers: I do not own Bleach and their characters (definitely); they are all masterpieces from Kubo-sensei~
Oh! and ...Merry Christmas~
Prologue
このコンビ、不可能だらけだ。 This Combination; Filled with Futilities.
The street I once roamed had no such thing as a blue sky due to frequent fogs – brought about by the invention of steam engines. The people were often dressed in darker colors and had really intricately-designed large hats. They wore lavishly and donned gems and spoke softly to one another. A passer-by like me loved observing these people. I often call them the "Empty Ones" - for they tried to satisfy their quest for happiness by burying their emptiness with luxuries.
There was a particular shop the Empty Ones grew jealous of – it was tiny and dilapidated amongst the brightly colored shops; but it had the longest queue. The Empty Ones shunned that place for they perceive such run-down exteriors would ruin their so-called upper-class image. It was the lesser and the poorer townsfolk that loved that store – and I happened to be one of them.
For as long as I remember, one would be greeted by a short period of audible clanging brass upon the entrance of the shop; there would be whiff of sweet smelling flora and a voice that said "Welcome.". It was a place entirely different from the world outside. No one seemed bothered about what I was; no one shunned and hurled stones at the sight of me.
"What would you like to have?" The owner said.
I looked up, the owner's face was vague and blurry; but I was certain about one thing.
A stunning blue sky hovered above within that shop.
That was the only piece of memory I had when I was reborn into this world.
***
The kitchen was filled with the scent of lavender; the saucepan bubbling in deep purplish liquid. There was a young man, in his twenties, bending over in front of the black oven. He looked puzzled and definitely was frowning; for the cakes were taking a longer time than usual – accuracy and precision were important keys to baking the perfect cake. He then went back to the saucepan and poured in sugar with the nearby tablespoon. A slight nod was all he gave before he turned the stove off. At last, the scent of butter crept in slowly from behind; the fusion of aroma was making one too excited about what was awaiting in the oven – yet there was not even a slight change in that frown. Meticulously, the young man took out the silver tray and left the cake to cool; and poured the mixture into a bowl of vanilla cream. The color of the bowl was now a faint purple, with more hints of white; yet the floral scent was more significant with the combination of vanilla. The chiffon cake was now covered in lavender-scented cream; blueberries were piled up in the middle of the cake in a random artistic manner. The man scrutinized his masterpiece one more time before sprinkling a layer of white sugar over the berries as the final finish. He then moved back to the sink, washed and dried his palette knife; and took out a plastic container from the cabinet above his head – very much like he was programmed to perform each and every detail with utmost caution.
The palette knife served one slice of the light purplish floral cake into the blue container; a yellow plastic fork was then strapped to the lid of the container with a checkered ribbon knot. The remaining slices of the lavender cake was placed in the refrigerator as the young man removed his apron and reached out for his brown down jacket. After ensuring that the front door was securely locked, he glanced over at the employment notice he stuck up by the side of the door for months. No one seemed to be interested in working in this place, even with the free rental he has offered for the new employee. The man let out a sigh and left for the nearby marketplace on his bicycle.
Purchasing fresh ingredients were also part of making delectable cakes. It did not matter to him that almost everything he had been doing seemed extremely monotonous and routine – in fact, he detested drastic changes for it would take him very long before getting used to them. Lunch was also routine – the dark wooden bench under the huge tree. As the huge bag of ingredients sat promptly inside the metal basket on the bicycle, the man moved over and sat on his usual spot. He paused and frowned to himself – something was different today.
Someone was sitting at the other end of the bench.
He did not bother how that person looked like, he just wanted that person to leave.
"Excuse me...but..."was all he could managed to say, for the person at the other side jumped up from the bench and snapped in.
"What's that?" That person pointed at the red container he was holding onto. It was a lady, slightly younger than him. The significant part would be her bright waist-length orange hair. She even had weird floral blue hair clips above each ear; followed by a pair of gray ear muffs, pushing her long hair backwards.
The man tilted his head slightly to his left, puzzled as to why things are going way different than they should have been. He looked down at the red container, his fingers clutched it tighter as he heard the end of her sentence.
"That red container. Yes, what is that inside it?" The curious lady repeated her question once more, her nose sniffed the surrounding air twice.
"It's..." The cake he just baked – there was no name to it. What was the correct terminology he should use to introduce to this lady over here? He usually baked cakes for his own, and no one in this town bothered. It was certainly strange that someone showed that much interest in the object hiding under the lid of the red container. He ran out of words, so he decided to show the lady by lifting the white lid. Whiffs of faint floral scent encircled the two of them, amongst the occasional chilly winds.
"Uwaaa!!! This! Is this lavender cream?" The lady pulled out the fork on the lid and plunged it into the slice before the man could react. She then placed her fork into her mouth and her eyes brightened up.
"It's really really really out of the world!!!" She smiled.
This was the first time he had seen someone reacted this huge upon tasting his cake. It did feel awkward, like a silent static current passing horizontally across the shoulders. Out..of the world? Did she mean that it tasted bad? He thought quietly to himself, without realizing the fact that the stranger was finishing up his lunch.
The fork. My lunch.
He could only sit by the side and observe as his lunch diminished greatly in size; it was not his nature to fight back, nor did he see the point to doing that. His fork was moving in a faster pace than usual – surely it must have felt uneasy too.
"Thank you for the cake!" The lady clapped both her hands as she lowered the fork into the empty container. She then returned the squarish box to the owner with both hands, and wheeled her luggage over.
"Are you hiring anyone?" She asked the speechless man, with her eyes round, filled with curiosity. She noticed the bag of ingredients sitting upright in the basket and figured that the man must be working in a famous bakery.
"I'm..." He was never too quick to reply those questions; he was now not sure of the exact response to reply to this woman, decided to ignore whatever she said and leave this area. She must be some kind of a lunatic, he whispered softly in his head. Moreover, he had to go back for lunch, now that his routine had been entirely changed. He walked briskly to his bicycle and rode off, without saying a word.
"Wait up! Hey! I haven't finished talking!" The lady chased after the sprinting bicycle as it flew down the rocky slope. She waved hardly, hoping that the man would at least stop and look back, but he never did.
"What a weird person," The peculiar lady pushed her hair backwards and sniffed the air.
***
Peace returned when the young man ate his slice of cake. The flavoring was apt; the dosage of lavender was not too bitter, nor was it too sweet. The chiffon cake was perfect for he did not like a lot of cream sticking out in between the layers; the blueberries complimented with the sweetness of vanilla just fine. Just as he was enjoying his moment of silence, that lady's voice could be heard at the doorstep.
"Excuse me~" She raised her voice a little, with much energy.
It's that crazy woman again.
He could identify her voice even when he was not looking at the door hole.
"I'm interviewing for the job!" She tore off the notice and waved at the window.
Oh no. He sank his head and ruffled the back of his hair; having just recalled about the notice he had stuck up outside for months. Even when he glances at that faded piece of paper everyday, he does not seem to remember the 'employee benefits' he has thought up of to entice people to sign up for the job.
I should have chosen to ignore her once more.
Instead, he opened the door and peered down at the woman.
"I'm not hiring anymore," he finally could complete his sentence but his talking partner was not in the mood for such rejection.
"Ah! It's you!" All the lady could hear was her loud exclamation. She was pointing excitedly at that man – the weird character back at the park was finally found.
"I am... " He tried to repeat what he had intended to say. This time he was not fast enough.
"I can smell it! It's that cake!" She attempted to run up the stairs, but was blocked by the man.
Is she even listening?
Are we even speaking in the same language?
The man was finding himself asking questions that he could not even understand; it seemed like both parties were totally engrossed in their own worlds.
"It's lavender and vanilla beans! There's blueberries too right? Ah, the chiffon could have a little more butter, is there something wrong with the oven? " She was sniffing around and stopped when her nose bumped into the man's arm.
"And er... I prefer it when there's vanilla cream in between, it's yummier that way!" She completed her sentence and rubbed her nose with her fingers.
How...did she know all that?
She could even point out the flaw inside the chiffon cake caused by the slight error in the oven.
"You..." The man responded this time. He himself wanted to know more about this girl; someone who could speak in similar languages like he had been totally accustomed to.
"Yes?"
"You can try out this evening," The man was praying that he did not make the wrong choice in hiring the young lady as his new assistant.
"Really?"
"I suppose so,"
Or she wouldn't give up, would she?
That evening, the shop was filled with customers as usual. This time, the queue moved at a faster rate, thanks to the new energetic young helper. The restaurant that was used to providing self-service to its customers now had a beautiful waitress. She was highly efficient; she could remember the dishes and pastries and even affixed interesting labels to them. All that young man had to do was to serve each order by the window and the lady would deliver to each table promptly. It was definitely a busy night, but somehow it was slightly less lethargic with the new helper around.
"Dinner," The man whipped up the remaining ingredients and presented it to the lady.
"Wow this looks yummy! Shall we serve them tomorrow?"
We?
The man paused at her question.
It had been too long since he had worked with someone.
In fact, he could not even recall the last time he hired someone.
He went back to the kitchen, without replying and served the slices of the lavender cake quietly.
"That cake!" The lady clapped happily as her plate was filled with a larger slice this time. She smiled every time she placed the cake-loaded fork into her mouth.
Why is she smiling like this when she said it tasted bad?
The man sat in front of the orange-haired lady and observed her every move as she finished her dinner. Every single movement she made somehow could not escape from his eye; it must have been the fact that he had not hired a new waitress for a long time.
"That's it for today," He cleared the dishes and placed them by the dish rack.
"Okay! Otsukaresama deshita~" She took a bow and removed her apron before hanging them on the hook at the back of the kitchen door.
"Aren't you..." The man now knew, that whenever he had difficulties completing his sentences, she would be saying something that's out of the world.
He understood the meaning of those words, in a hard way.
"Let's go home!" The lady pulled out the employment notice and pointed to the final line.
"Lodging provided, right?"
There was no reason to fire such a capable assistant. Yet, it seemed to this man that there was a lot of getting used to, now that the supposed routine had almost entirely vanished.
"By the way, sir. What's your name?"
"I'm..."
I guess I am never going to finish my sentence.
"I'm Inoue Orihime. Please take care of me from today onwards! I'll promise to bring business to your restaurant!"
The man let out a weary sigh,
"Ulquiorra Schiffer,"
This combination, is never going to work out.
He thought to himself silently, while pulling the luggage down the streets; the lady dancing daintily with her light footwork behind.
All of a sudden, the lady hummed a familiar old tune.
This song existed in the world for more than a hundred years.
How in the world would she know of this song?
"This is..."
"Ah, I just happen to know this song. I don't know how, but it seemed to me like I knew it before I was born. Amazing, right? "
I was at a loss of words again.
That tune brought back many memories.
Back then, the shop was only known to regular customers – everyone knew that there was no menu in the restaurant and they were comfortable with letting the owner decide the dishes for them.
Then came a day, when the shop was greeted with a new face.
A little one stepped in with uncertainty in its grey irises.
She was frightened and afraid so she hid under the waiting bench for a while before coming out.
I asked her a question I never did before with the other customers.
I remembered her eyes.
She resembled that orange cat, a hundred and thirty years ago.
yu-pon's note:
Merry Christmas! It's Christmas in my area though.
This was meant to be a one-shot, but I could not finish writing. T__To
And it wasn't supposed to be like this!
(in fact it wasn't supposed to be a new fic! haha)
The italics are all Ulquiorra, as far as I can remember =))
Anyway thank you for reading till the last line!!
And if you left a review, double brownie points!!
I just attempted something new, that's all.
Alternate future fic, i guess?
In fact, I was a bit uncertain when I posted up this fic.
Ulquiorra is just a very very old man (?), meeting a very very young girl.
Anyway, this is a holiday season fic!
let's see what to expect for the next chapter!
Hopefully, if it gets popular enough...well we'll never know!
see you in the actual chapter!
yu-pon でしたぁ～