It's funny how stories evolve sometimes, almost out of your control. I really enjoyed writing this chapter.
Author notes about the story after the chapter.
Chapter 2 // Breakfast at Tsuichii's
Haruhi glanced at her watch. She was at least half an hour early. She had left her apartment half an hour before and made her way on foot to the nearest supermarket, with the full intention of taking a leisurely hour-long stroll and arriving promptly at 9am. Her good spirits and the spring in her step, however, had brought her to town rather speedily. At least, much faster than she had anticipated.
She tipped her head back and enjoyed the breeze for a moment, pondering her options before the aroma of pan-fried sausages and fresh brewed coffee assaulted her senses. Well, Kyouya-senpai did say that I should 'partake' of breakfast, she mused as she meandered towards the origin of the delicious scent.
Café des Tsuichii was an overtly French affair, a thriving bistro tucked cosily into the corner at the juncture of two streets and operated by Yanagi Tsuichii, a local who had been to France all but once. For two weeks. He was known in culinary circles as Pierre, the daredevil "Frenchman" who had invested all his savings in his venture against familial protest. Fortunately, Pierre's eccentricities made up for the risk. The bistro was thriving.
Its appeal was the open-air terrace where ornate wrought iron tables and chairs had been set up beneath a light avant-garde shade sail in pale periwinkle. Haruhi had been drawn to the café more than once by virtue of her olfactory senses. She had strolled by wishing that she could sample the delights from its pricey menu, but unfortunately even a beverage at the classy joint would cost her two full meals, home cooked, for both her father and herself.
Today, however, she could sample Pierre's culinary delights with abandon. She took a tentative step towards the bistro's entrance.
"Haruhiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!!!"
She blinked. That voice. Was. Incredibly. Familiar.
"Oh Daddy has missed you so much, Haruhi! How has my beloved daughter been? Has she missed me? Has she? Has she???"
Tamaki-senpai. Only Tamaki-senpai would completely abandon presence of mind in order to hug her tightly in broad daylight, at the entrance of a very classy bistro she had never been to in her entire life. Was he rubbing his cheek affectionately against hers?
She extricated herself from his embrace gingerly, much to his disappointment. "Tamaki-senpai, what are you doing here?" She glared at him accusingly, as if challenging him to provide her with a less than honest answer.
Tamaki pouted, tapping the tips of his forefingers against one another, eyes shimmering in the morning sunlight, eyelids flapping furiously. "It's my birthday," he whined, strangely resembling his pet, Antoinette, right that instant. "You mean I can't go where I want during my birthday? Not even for a bit of breakfast at my favourite shomin French bistro?"
Haruhi exhaled slowly. "You could have breakfast at a far better restaurant, I'm sure. It's unusual to see you around these parts when you aren't at my apartment. And you haven't answered my question either, senpai."
"It'smybirthdaycan'tyouevenusemynamejustfortodayinsteadofsenpaiiiiii…"
"Oui, and who might this delightful young lady be, Tamaki-san?"
Haruhi frowned and was about to berate the rude little twit who had eavesdropped and interrupted their conversation without batting an eyelid when her vision was quite literally assaulted with a blue, red and white confection crowned with a beret and sporting a ridiculous handlebar moustache. Her eyes widened with surprise and she blinked hard. Perhaps it was an illusion that managing Tamaki-senpai in the morning had wrought in her tortured noggin.
It was not.
"Ah, Pierre, this is Haruhi, my delightful daughter," Tamaki bowed and smiled brilliantly, eyes twinkling.
Haruhi snorted and turned towards Pierre, almost apologetically. "Ah… he's not my father, obviously. Just my delusional senpai from school."
Pierre dimpled pleasantly, tugged his striped vest sharply and fluffed the nest of ruffles at his throat. "Enchante, madam," he bowed and took her hand, then kissed it gently. Tamaki gasped and grabbed Pierre by the shoulders, twirled him around and shoved him back into the bistro. "I believe you will be breakfasting with Tamaki-san."
"Yes she is! Nothing but the best for my daughter. Whatever she wants, Pierre, she must have. Deny her nothing! Including that delightful beret if she so wishes. Isn't that right, my darling Haruhi?" he grasped her hand and stroked it. "Father will get you the stars in the sky and the moon if you so desire. Nothing is worthy of your magnificent splendour!"
They're both delusional. Since when do I look like a madam? Aren't I supposed to be a madamoiselle? Why would I want a beret? Hmm… that beret would look better on Hikaru and Kaoru actually. Maybe I should ask for it. What am I thinking? These people are nuts. It must be something to do with being French, she thought as she rolled her eyes, far too exhausted to resist. "There aren't any stars nor is the moon out, senpai."
"Whywon'tyoucallmeTamakilikeKyouyadoesjustfortodaymydaughter'ssucha… meanie!"
Their eccentric host had sat them outdoors and Tamaki was ensconced in his gloomy little world, tracing the ornate patterns of swirls on the table. She sighed as she watched him, lips twitching. He blinked at her imploringly.
"Oh alright, Tamaki. There. Happy now?"
Tamaki lunged across the table, almost upsetting it in his exuberant enthusiasm, and smothered her in a mammoth hug, once again nuzzling her cheek vigorously with his.
"Hey, hey." She pushed him aside gently after a minute or two. "That's enough Tamaki. I've got to meet Mori-senpai and Hani-senpai in twenty minutes." She picked up the menu and ordered Ze Breakfast Special. There was something akin to absurdity that the place appeared to indulged in. The menu appeared faux French, with long convoluted names for the simplest of fare. Everything was excessively coordinated in three colours and the décor consisted of bread loaves that appeared to have been artfully strewn by none other than Pierre himself. Thankfully, the rest of the wait staff were rather sane and did not speak with mock French accents.
It came as no surprise that Tamaki loved it. Pierre was incredibly solicitous and hovered frequently around their table much to Haruhi's chagrin. He was flamboyant and expressive to the point of excess. If they were peas, they'd come from the same pod, she thought as she munched on the scrambled egg and baguette that she had ordered, observing the animated conversation between the two. She had no idea what they were talking about since they were speaking in French and far too rapidly for her to decipher much except Pierre's nods and copious ouis.
Tamaki must have said something as she was sipping from her glass of orange juice because Pierre glanced at her and beamed, elbowing her senpai familiarly, causing him to flush a pleasant pink. She almost sputtered, but managed to manoeuvre the juice away from her windpipe as Tamaki smiled tenderly at her.
What's that look for? What does he want? Do I have something on my chin? Scrambled egg? She dabbed at her lips with the napkin, which caused Tamaki, who was watching, to turn a deeper shade of red. Puzzled, she excused herself and ambled to the bathroom to check on her state of dress. Just in case.
It would not do her nor Mori and Hani any good if she had something on backwards or crumbs all over the front of her dress. Imagine the embarrassment, at least on her part, to be found feeding the resident avians while she walked. Even though Haruhi was a commoner, she did have some sense of pride in being well-presented. She dusted herself and twisted this way and that in front of the large bathroom mirror to ensure that her bike shorts beneath her skirt was not displayed for all and sundry.
Her father had insisted she wear the sunny yellow dress last night but his practical daughter had protested vehemently to wearing something so impractical for a trip to the supermarket. He had whined and she had given in, insisting that she would put on a pair of shorts beneath it to preserve her modesty, much to Ranka's horror. Satisfied with her appearance, she brushed her fingers through her hair, patted it and pinned the fringe with the little green barrette that Hikaru had given her "just because".
She nodded at her reflection and returned to her seat, where Tamaki was waiting patiently. "There you are my darling daughter!" he beamed, eyes alight. "I have settled the little inconvenience that is the bill and you are free to meet Hani-senpai and Mori-senpai with just a few minutes to spare."
"But I have money from Kyouya-senpai for the…"
"No, no, no, sweet Haruhi! It is my pleasure. After all, you are doing so much…" he paused dramatically, capturing her hand in his and her eyes with a deliciously cheeky wink, "just for me."
My, isn't he thick skinned.
Her mobile phone beeped. Ah, saved by the bell, quite literally.
She removed her hand as carefully as possible and pulled out her phone, reading the short text message from Mori. Here waiting, it said.
"Ah, Tamaki-sen…" she cleared her throat. "Err… Tamaki. Mori-senpai and Hani-senpai are waiting for me. I have to go." She sipped the last of her orange juice, for up and and waved to Pierre, who, despite being quite excessive, was rather endearing.
Tamaki grabbed her hand and kissed it. "Later, my darling daughter!"
She shook her head in disbelief, shrugged at Pierre and strode down the street in the direction of the supermarket.
Pierre slithered up to their table. "Quite the enchanting lady, isn't she?"
"Yes she is," murmured the enamoured Tamaki as he watched the spot of yellow disappear around the corner, "quite the lady." The love of my life.
Author's Note(s):
I must confess that I don't know that much about French culture, so what I've written here may not be accurate, but instead is a parody of what the French culture is usually perceived to be. I hope it came across ludicrous enough.
There are a few bits and pieces that I've weaved into the story that may not be apparent initially. I hope to surprise all of you later on with some interesting details.
Tamaki, here, is somewhat aware of his feelings for Haruhi, although bear in mind that he tends to exaggerate a lot.
I had planned for Haruhi to meet Mori and Hani early, but felt that the setting would be perfect for Tamaki instead.
Hope you enjoyed it. The eventual pairing can still move in any direction. Except Pierre's. Obviously.