"Ah, it's gotten late. I better get going if I want to have my studies done by tonight." Ami murmured, glancing at her watch.
Makoto lowered the cup of rosemary tea she had been sipping to the table, giving her friend a mischievous grin. "You need to be done by tonight, huh? Got another hot date with that guy you've been seeing?"
"It's nothing like that," Ami insisted, a full body blush spreading over her instantly as she struggled to reply, "we've only gone out a couple of times."
"Sure, sure," the brunette chuckled, "whatever makes you comfortable."
She watched Ami mumble a few denials as she hastily packed up her things, and then race out the door. It seemed obvious to Makoto, that Ami was falling in love with the guy she had been seeing for the past three weeks, and she was truly happy for her friend. The girl deserved someone who would cherish her; all of her friends did in fact, if only because they were her precious friends.
She stood abruptly, trying to shake off her odd mood, and grabbed her things while throwing down as generous a tip as her budget would allow. Though she had been lucky that her parents had left her a small fortune, she had already used around half of it and she still needed to finish school before she could open her own bakery. At least that was the plan until they formerly took up their roles as Guardians again; they hadn't been given an exact deadline for Crystal Tokyo so it was pretty much up to each girl to decide how to fill that time.
Makoto headed out of the tea shop and sighed wistfully as she spotted a young couple strolling down the street with a child on each hand. They were well dressed, as if returning from a holiday party and the little girl carried a stuffed unicorn tightly to her chest. How she wished that she could have a family like that again. Pedestrians walked around her as she stood frozen to the spot, recalling how once long ago she had had a wonderful family, but now, with each passing year, the memories of that time were becoming blurrier. Did her mother bake cookies each Christmas or cake? Did her father drink eggnog, or did he prefer to drink something a bit more celebratory like champagne during the New Year? She wasn't sure the answer anymore and that depressed her more than anything. That she could forget.
Eventually she became aware of the obstruction she was causing and wandered down the sidewalk enjoying the remaining sunlight before nightfall. She looked through several shop windows, now decorated for the season with bright lights and glittering trees. Bakeries had started making their holiday cakes and she was tempted to purchase a raspberry plum one if only to compare recipes. Instead she opted for something smaller and bought a small cherry turnover that was still warm from the heating lamp. There was a park nearby and though she could see there was some event going on there, she headed towards it, intent on finding a bench to sit on and eat her pastry in peace.
She found one just off from the entrance and took a seat, nibbling on a corner of the pastry as she took in the event. It was an ice sculpting competition and the particular sculpture in front of her looked like a depiction of Zeus, with several lightning bolts scattered around on top of an amazingly fluffy looking cloud carved from the base of the statue. How the artist had managed that with ice Makoto would never know, but she admired the detail on it, as well as several other sculptures nearby as she took another bite of her cherry turnover.
Ah, turnovers…those were still one thing she remembered well. Her mother had made the best tasting turnovers and after her death, Makoto had worked with a basic recipe, adjusting where necessary until she had finally managed the exact flavor on her 32nd attempt. It was what first got her into cooking, chasing after that precious memory. Nowadays her turnovers were second to none, and yet a large part of her couldn't help but feel that her mother still made them better. Perhaps it was the warm image her parents created as her father would sneak into the kitchen, slipping his arms around his wife as she lovingly batted him away with an oven mitt that made it taste so good. The love that shone between them would seep into the mixture and add that special something that always seemed to be missing from Makoto's own pastries.
She thought about these things for a little while, slowly losing track of time until a tall man with dark, unruly hair collapsed onto the far end of her bench. He was one of the ice sculptors, at least she assumed so spying the chisel in his hand, and she stared at him for a moment admiring his rough hands and the way his long, well-defined legs looked in his dark denim jeans.
She watched as he pulled out a small thermos and unscrewed the cap, taking a long swig before spinning the cap back on. It was then that he finally noticed her and the warm smile that spread from ear to ear stirred something akin to butterflies in her stomach which reminded her of her middle school days….okay, high school too. She smiled back, suddenly feeling her usual cheerful self, and gestured to the blocks of artistic ice.
"So you're one of the sculptors?" she asked, hoping his wasn't either the one that had several vaguely human like figures scatter around what she could only believe was meant to be a shrine or the one that seemed to suggest several innuendos depending on the angle you looked at it.
He nodded, and Makoto was grateful to see him point to the one of Zeus. "That's mine over there. Not very Christmassy I know but I think the cloud lends it some credence."
"I don't know," she replied, gazing at the statue thoughtfully, "with that beard…if you lost the robes and replaced it with a thick coat, he could probably pass for Santa."
He chuckled at the comparison, and braced his arm over the back of the bench so he could lean in closer. "So did you come to support anyone or are you just purely a spectator?" he inquired, still smiling.
"Just admiring," she admitted with a slight blush, recalling just how she had been admiring him earlier.
A strong gust of wind blew at that moment and she shivered from the chill that elicited throughout her. Noticing her discomfort, he lifted his thermos and gestured for her to take it.
"Oh no, I couldn't—" she began before he cut her off with a wave of his hand.
"Trust me, this'll warm you up."
He screwed off the cap once more, pouring some of the steaming liquid into the lid, and offered it to her. Nodding her thanks, she quickly brought the hot drink to her lips only to be met with the most delicious concoction she had ever tasted.
"What is this?" she exclaimed, her amazement evident.
He chuckled again, albeit louder this time, and informed her that it was a family recipe. "I guess it's closest to a cider, but the ingredients don't really advertise it as such."
She nodded and took another sip, this time she took her time to savor it, working out the different flavors she could taste. There were typical spices that were used in drinks this time of year, as well as a clear dose of rum, but there was something else that she couldn't quite put her finger on.
"You have to tell me what's in this," she begged, scooting closer to him.
"Ah, ah," he scolded, giving her a playful look, "you can't get something for nothing you know."
Makoto automatically looked down at the things on her, trying to decipher what he might want as a trade, and spotted the half eaten turnover still in her lap. She cast him a quizzical look.
"You want the rest of my pastry?" she asked skeptically.
"No," he smiled, clearly amused, "I'd settle for your name and phone number though."
She couldn't help it, she beamed at him. Her earlier contemplative mood was now entirely forgotten.
"Kino, Kino Makoto." she replied and stuck out her hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you…"
He gripped her hand firmly, and shook, "Yamashita Nao."
"Yamashita Nao," she repeated, liking the sound of his name, "nice to meet you. Now about that secret ingredient…"
They sat on that cold, frozen bench talking even after the judging had taken place with Nao's Zeus sculpture taking second place—first went to the guy who had carved out all eight reindeer—until finally dusk had settled and they moved their conversation to a diner they found nearby. Several days later Makoto excitedly whipped up some of her famous turnovers. She would be seeing him that night, and she was eager to awe him in the same way his cider had done to her.
"These are fantastic!" He practically moaned between bites, hardly bothering to swallow after she had presented him the treats. "What's in them?"
She shrugged, "the usual. It's just the right combination that makes it great."
Nao shook his head, "No there's something more, you can't eat this and tell me this is the standard stuff. There's something else."
Makoto frowned and took a bit of the turnover off her plate, worried that perhaps she had knocked something in by mistake. Instead as her teeth sank in, the image of her parents in their kitchen came to mind causing her to smile.
"Oh that," she chuckled, pleased to have the taste of her mother's turnover once again, "no that's definitely not standard."
He looked at her questioningly but she merely shook her head. Perhaps if they were still together, she'd tell him what it was next year. For now though, it would be her special secret.
