Section I
.part three.
The key to putting on any successful show was being comfortable in the spotlight. The spotlight favored few, and those few could not shy away from it and expect results. The spotlight could be on the screen or a stage or even the city park. Where ever the spotlight was for the individual performer, they must be comfortable standing in it. The center of attention, the performer could not shy away from the spotlight or the attention of the audience. The goal was to entertain, and so the audience was crucial and needed to be engaged. Embarrassment had no place in successful performance. No person could make money from a performance if they were shy or quiet. The performer needed to be comfortable with themselves. They needed to be confident in their skills. They needed to be able to laugh at themselves and accept their own mistakes in stride. They needed to command their stage. Luckily for Pudding Fong, they had never been very shy.
Pudding pulled tight the ribbon holding their golden blonde hair tightly into a braided bun at the back of their head. It had grown long in recent years, much longer than it had been when they were younger. Enrolled at the finishing school, Pudding faced off with teachers and guides set on molding them into a satisfactorily calm and quiet young woman. Pudding, of course, resisted. They saw the light in the eyes of the other students die away as the term continued, as they were beaten down and lectured into submission to the school's guiding rules. The dress code was strict. Their activities were strongly structured and tightly scheduled to fill most of the waking hours. The Golden Monkey Finishing School was a prison intended to break children's wills and stubbornness when their families decided they needed reforming. Pudding's father, Huang Fong, enrolled their oldest child as a favor to his good friend who ran the school – or at least that was the way he justified it to Pudding.
The teenager had never done well at the school. Sitting and learning household chores that Pudding already knew, proper hosting techniques, tea ceremonies, and disciplined silence did not connect well with Pudding's energetic personality. They wanted to be up and moving about. They knew Mother-sensei – the woman who ran the finishing school – was a skilled martial artist and had met their father through martial training. However, the woman did not seem to practice martial fighting as much as martial discipline, and she frowned upon any of Pudding's attempts to demonstrate their skills or get Mother-sensei to teach martial techniques. Her concern was on molding the children in her care into good, traditional, complacent young women who would make prized young brides and bring their families honor. Pudding had no interest in that path.
Hair pulled back and out of the way, Pudding secured the tie that held their bright, orange pants in place. They had hidden away a comfortable exercise outfit for just this occasion. They were very proud of their skill at hiding it away, since the teachers of the finishing school knew by now to go through Pudding's belongings and confiscate such items early in the semester. Even so, Pudding smuggled in the training outfit and even some of their props to put on a show for the other students when they needed it most. That time was now. The end of the term was approaching, and the teachers had all but trained the spark from the students, intent on sending them home complacent as cows. They hoped the training would stick over the summer and so the start of term in the Fall would not require time spent on reconditioning. In any case, Pudding felt it was their duty to brighten the faces of their fellow inmates now more than ever. Their mother had always told them a smile and positive attitude could get them through any hardship. As long as Pudding kept smiling, they could bring joy to others and lessen the negativity in the world. Pudding had taken their mother's words to heart.
The courtyard was quiet, though fairly full of students quietly discussing meaningless things, summer plans, exchanging information for classes. The yard was orderly and tranquil. Pudding grinned wide, all of their slightly pointed teeth revealing themselves to the outdoor air. Their nerves buzzed with excitement. Performances always set adrenaline rushing through their veins. It would be a good show today.
In a popping burst of flame that instantly caught the attention of everyone in the courtyard, Pudding made their entrance. They balanced atop of bicycle they had borrowed from the transportation rental in town, a mile and a half walk away from the school. They balanced with one foot on the bicycle seat. On their nose they balanced a stick that held up a spinning plate. They juggled four teacups in front of them. On their free foot they spun a special expandable hula hoop that could fold down to almost nothing for easy packing. The students and teachers in the courtyard froze, watching Pudding with gaping mouths and wide eyes, unsure of how to react. The bicycle lost momentum, teetering on its wheels. Recognizing the instability, Pudding leapt from the seat twisting in the air tossing the hoop and plate high above them.
They did a flip in midair, never once losing rhythm of the teacups they juggled. Landing on one foot, Pudding caught the stick with it's still spinning plate on their forehead. Sticking out their open leg, Pudding also caught the hoop again. Their audience clapped in awe. With expert skill, Pudding flipped the hoop into the air again, this time slipping it over their head and around their waist where they continued to spin it without losing the cups or the plate. The audience gasped. The reactions fueled Pudding's antics. They shifted the hoop again to their left arm. They bounced the stick and plate off their forehead and into their right hand. They left hand kept up the juggling cups. Pudding raised on one leg again, bending forwards until their torso was parallel to the ground. A few students giggled and cheered. A few teachers moved closer.
Keeping one eye on the nearing teachers, pudding tossed the hoop aside, followed by the stick and plate which landed perfectly in the center of the ring. Still juggling the teacups, now with two hands again, Pudding began to back up in preparation for a gymnastics routine. They flipped again, landing on their left hand, the right keeping the cups moving this time around. In a series of hops, Pudding moved about balanced upside-down, only on one hand. They switched hands to applause. They dropped both hands to the ground, dancing further away from the teachers who had stepped even closer. The cups stayed in the air, tossed by their feet. The students were going wild as Pudding run about the courtyard on their hands, occasionally throwing in a flip or a cartwheel, never once dropping a cup.
This routine took a lot of concentration. Pudding was almost unsure they would be able to complete it successfully since they had not had the time to freely practice their acrobatics in quite some time. Even if they failed, it would surely be a good laugh, and that was Pudding's objective. The students needed joy at this school. Mother-sensei and her teachers tried to snuff it out, but Pudding would continue to defy them and their teachings to see the bright, unchecked smiles on the students faces.
Pudding turned to an acrobatic series sure to impress, moving back across the courtyard to the cheers and laughter they worked so hard to cultivate – backflip, roundoff, cartwheel, backflip, summersault, back hand spring, double flip. They lost one cup, but hardly anyone seemed to notice or mind. It was in the recovery that the street artist perfected their performance. Like a pianist who forgets a note during the concert, a street performer keeps time and does not acknowledge any missteps and the audience will not take notice. Pudding launched back into a hand spring, followed by a cartwheel. They're shows were always amazing, the tricks seeming almost impossible to the onlookers. The show had brought in a lot of money when they performed in Tokyo Park when they were younger. People were impressed by anything they couldn't imagine themselves doing. It was entertaining.
And then Pudding's momentum hit an immovable wall. The cups crashed to the ground. The audience gasped and went silent, fear seizing their vocal chords. Pudding looked down to the firm hand that held their forearm tightly. There would be no escaping that grasp. Their honey brown eyes flicked up, following the hand to the arm to the unamused face of Mother-sensei herself.
The woman was rather attractive, objectively speaking. Her jaw was sharp and strong; her cheekbones stood proudly at a catlike angle; her slanted eyes were dark and mysterious as still pools of water at midnight; her long, dark lashes fanned out alluringly; and her sleek, straight hair glimmered in the direct sunlight, so black it almost looked to have a deep blue undertone, like ink. It was a face that demanded respect and obedience. Even Pudding could be affected by it for a moment.
Mother-sensei was not amused. Her plump, pink lips turned down into a frightening frown. Her thin eyebrows creased her brow in the middle. She glared down her nose at Pudding as if the teenager were a cockroach she would squash with her boot.
"The show is over," she announced curtly. The other students quickly dispersed, returning to their quiet activities – their heads down, gaze averted, fearful of drawing Mother-sensei's wrath upon them as well.
Mother-sensei turned, moving calmly toward the exit to the courtyard and the teachers who gathered there. Her grip never faltered, and Pudding was forced to follow, locked in step to whatever fate awaited them.
"The monkey and I will be in my office," Mother-sensei informed the teachers. The dismissal was clear in her clipped voice. She was angry and would not tolerate questions. The teachers shuffled away quickly, heads down just as the students had. Mother-sensei demanded respect from both the students and the faculty and none wished to cross her. Pudding watched them leave without a second glance their way as Mother-sensei dragged them out of the courtyard. Their reluctance to get involved made Pudding sick. Regardless, Pudding felt bold beyond reason. Perhaps they wanted to make a point of letting Mother-sensei know they weren't afraid of her like all the rest. Pudding had faced and survived much worse than Mother-sensei could offer them.
"Oh no," Pudding moaned, mocking forlorn filling their voice. They threw their head back, eyes rolling, letting their muscles go slack as if giving in to the inevitable. "Not another special ginseng tea chat in the headmistress' office. What have I ever done to deserve that?"
Pudding watched Mother-sensei through their thick, blond eyelashes. Her jaw clenched tightly, though she revealed in no other way that she had heard Pudding speak. Both of them knew what was in store once they reached Mother-sensei's office. They had played this routine countless times. Still, there was slightly hesitation in the way Mother-sensei held herself. After four years, she must know she would not change Pudding's behavior, no matter what disciplinary action she enacted. Pudding knew that the woman knew. This was the game they played. Eventually, Pudding supposed, they would finally determine which of them was truly more stubborn, unrelenting, and untrainable. For a woman who sought to bring her students to heel, Mother-sensei had a lot in common with Pudding. The teenager looked forward to seeing who would blink first.
outgoing message – 9:43:02 UTC
All I'm saying is that you seem to have a lot of free time to spend talking to me.
incoming message – 9:47:54 UTC
I spent a fair amount of time conversing with you, perhaps, but it does not necessarily logically follow that I am speaking to you during my free time. As we've discussed previously, you and I both are good multi-taskers.
outgoing message – 9:49 12 UTC
Right, god point. I guess I should feel honored to be taking your attention away from things you should probably be focusing on instead.
Mother-sensei was a harsh woman whose job was to break even the strongest-willed charge under her care into submission. She used tested and true methods. She boasted a long career of turning out proper young ladies from her school without any blemished to that reputation. When her good friend Huang Fong had requested to enter his oldest child in her school for extra training, Mother-sensei though nothing of the request. Of course, he could entrust his child to her. She would transform the teenager into a perfect young woman just as with any of her other charges. She would have a perfected product to return to Huang. Yet, when the child arrived, Mother-sensei found a challenge that made her nervous her streak would finally be broken. After all, Pudding Fong had no ordinary strong will, but an unshakable instinct to persist.
Pudding's shoulder stung smartly, though they blocked the pain from their mind. They had lived through worse than anything Mother-sensei could dish out. They would doubtlessly sport a bruise tomorrow morning, but Pudding would not let the woman know the punishments bothered them. They would not complain when the bruise developed. They would not complain about the harsh correction. Pudding suffered long enough under Mother-sensei's watchful care to smother any urge to submit to the whipping stick and become what the woman worked so hard to shape from them. They spent too many years resilient to the training Mother-sensei and her employees enforced at the Chinese finishing school. Typically, the students enrolled were broken swiftly and quickly brought to heel, but Pudding was different – unique, powerful, and they would not be tamed by the likes of these teachers.
"Appropriate young woman knows the right time for fun and the right time to obey," Mother-sensei droned for the thousandth time. It was nothing the blond teenager had not heard before. Mother-sensei spent years of efforts to tame them, and yet they still prevailed, unbroken. By now, Pudding expected the woman to give up, but she similarly persisted with determination that could only be respected. She had surely earned the respect and admiration others harbored for her. She had patience that could only be achieved through years of martial arts training and discipline. Of course, training or no, she was no less deserving of Pudding's distain.
The offending trait Mother-sensei sought to force from Pudding's personality was their boundless energy. For upwards of four years the middle-aged Chinese woman made it her personal project to train away their pep. She felt it was her responsibility to present her good friend Huang Fong with a perfected product, not some failed half-attempt of reconditioning. Having lost their mother at a young age, Huang's children doubtlessly lacked the nurturing discipline of a mother's example. Mother-sensei could only imagine the personalities and habits of the younger children with only Pudding as an accessible role model. Many times, Mother-sensei had expressed this concern to Huang about his children and urged him to return, but the man was stubborn. The stubbornness was apparently a hereditary trait.
Huang had once jokingly promised his disciples that anyone to win a fight against his eldest child would win the right to marry into the family and by extension inherit his dojo in Japan. One student was so bold as to take the man up on the offer, traveling to Japan hopeful and naïve. He returned humbled, his tales of Pudding's martial ability keeping others at bay. Huang told the story to Mother-sensei in jest, but it raised a serious concern in her mind – Pudding was fast-approaching marrying age, and while the child inherited the mother's beauty, they were hardly ready to become anyone's young bride.
"I am glad you do not wear children's clothing or the bad haircut any more, but you must take pride in the heart of a woman, not a child," Mother-sensei continued. The stick came down harshly again.
Pudding rolled her eyes discretely. The motion was as much backtalk as they dared. While the teenager would have loved nothing more than to tell the woman what they thought of her lessons and sermons on ladylike behavior, Pudding was not so careless as to delude themselves that the kickback for the display would be harsher than the beating. Of course, they held their ground mentally, repelling the attempts to change her behavior. It took a fair amount of skill and discipline of their own to psychologically withstand Mother-sensei's efforts. No matter, their playful personality serves them fine before they arrived at the finishing school, and they maintained it would likely do well afterwards too, despite what Mother-sensei believed.
Even though Pudding was unhappy at the finishing school, they could not bring themselves to blame their father for the predicament. When he returned from his training, Huang was just as enthusiastic about her acrobatics and carefree attitude as he had ever been. He brought back many new techniques to share with his children, and he taught them each technique as vigorously as he would any pupil. He would laugh and joyfully insist Pudding demonstrate their acrobatics for him as a means of training Pudding's own combative skills which required much of the same physical techniques as their act. Pudding would happily comply, eager to show him how they grew in his absence. They guided themselves, not only teaching their siblings.
All continued pleasantly at home for many months. Huang reopened his dojo and accepted new students and challengers. He supported Pudding's continued performances in the park, cheering their acrobatic improvements and perfected routine. Then, one day, Huang became troubled. He treated Pudding's siblings with the same love and playfulness as always, but he had begun to harden in his interactions with his eldest child. He informed them they needed to behave with more prideful reserve now that Pudding was becoming a young woman. He claimed Pudding could not act like a child forever, they would have to settle down and marry someday. As a young wife, Pudding would be expected to behave as a woman, not a girl. The idea seemed to consume much of his attention. Next thing Pudding knew, they were packed off to Mother-sensei's finishing school in China.
Pudding never did well with the rules of the finishing school. Their well-made Chinese-style martial arts suit was taken and replaced by acceptably feminine silk dresses. Their short braids were yanked out and left to hand in blond curls Pudding was now expected to upkeep and manage. Rather than run about, they were expected to sit perfectly still through days of passive housekeeping lessons – cooking, cleaning, Chinese tea ceremony, embroidery – lessons Pudding already understood through first-hand experience. They were expected to stay silent and keep their opinions to themselves. All the rules constricted the behaviors and attitudes of the students trapped within the walls, sentenced to the finishing school by their families. The rules were a challenge to which Pudding rose.
Time after time, the energetic teen was berated and beaten for disobeying instruction. Pudding attempted to cause disorder and mayhem by performing in the courtyards; teaching acrobatics to their fellow inmates; suggesting the other students speak their minds and reject the lessons; and worst of all, Pudding wore their hair braided, hid pants and shorts in their room which they wore sporadically to give Mother-sensei a headache despite repeated warnings to dress in accordance with the school's dress code. Mother-sensei and her teachers sought to work out the undesirable aspects of Pudding's personality. They lectured, assigned extra chores, confined Pudding to their room for days at a time, and lashed them repeatedly in the off-chance the lessons would permeate if delivered by physical means.
Yet, Pudding remained unbroken, the one student under Mother-sensei's watchful eye who proved impossible to train. They could not be refined. Pudding's shoulder stung sharply as the stick came down again. They could handle the pain. It was only a twinge of nerves. Pudding's body was not in danger by anything Mother-sensei sent their way. Their housemates and friends smiled at Pudding's antics, and that alone ensured they would endure a beating like this again as many times as possible. If their actions brought joy to people around them, Pudding would not give up their act until the day it failed to bring anyone cheer. Pudding withstood more severe beatings than this before. The blond teenager suspected even some of the teachers enjoyed the show as well, though the teachers hid their amusement. Their joy was Pudding's motivator.
The beatings had no effect on Pudding. They were strong. Mother-sensei would not break them. It became their mantra, a promise throughout their time at the finishing school.
Pudding Fong would not be trained like a dog.
Above all, Pudding missed Tokyo. They often wondered about their siblings. Were they getting along without Pudding there to keep them in line? Maybe they would finally learn to do their own laundry, to cook their own meals in Puddings absence. Perhaps Huang took up the house chores. Pudding hoped the task had not been pushed on their baby sister Heicha as Pudding's replacement. More likely, their younger siblings wore dirty clothes more often than not and ordered take out most nights.
Along with their siblings, Pudding missed their friends in Tokyo. They had a few acquaintances at the finishing school, never devoting much time or effort to relationship building here. However, back in Tokyo, Pudding had many friends from their job as a waitress at the frilly, maid-style café in the park. Despite their young age, they were hired and balanced the demands of the job with their responsibilities at home and their acrobat show to make spare change. At the job, Pudding did more than bus tables; they protected the Earth. The café was perfect cover for the Mew Mew Project, a science experiment to create a team of fighters empowered with the DNA of endangered species the instincts of which would help them to survive the attacks of the alien threat. There were five of them whose genetic makeup predisposed them as the perfect matches for the projects objectives. Ichigo Momomiya – the Iriomote Cat – Mint Aizawa – the Blue Lorikeet – Lettuce Midorikawa – the Finless Porpoise – Zakuro Fujiwara – the American Gray Wolf – and Pudding themselves – the Golden Tamarin Monkey.
The young teens possessed the traits of the animals, and since the onset of the project, each learned to cope and manage with the mutations. The team became like a second family to Pudding, reliably by their side when they needed the team's support. Since the final battle with the aliens, however, Pudding lost contact with them each slowly and then all at once. Although their contact had lapsed, Pudding thought of the team often and the adventures they had together. They stood for something much larger than themselves. The fate of the Earth depended on their conviction and strength. And so, Pudding could not allow for Mother-sensei's reprimands to stick. It was a duty to their title as Tokyo's Mew Mews.
Pudding grit their teeth as the punishment stick came sharply down again. They needed to be ready to report when another threat arose. Some chimera monsters were left behind on the Earth following the final battle between the Mews and the aliens. Already, humans who gained control of those monsters attempted to take the world for their own. Again, Tokyo Mew Mew stood up to these humans, the Saint Rose Crusaders with the help of a new friend, Berry Shirayuki who became a member after accidentally causing the fusion of her DNA with that of the Andean Mountain Cat and the Amami Rabbit. Another time, the team was called to action again when an unknown alien attacked an island with the intention to turn the Red Data animals there into chimeras. They defeated him with the help of Ringo Akai who became a member by means of a mew aqua necklace she possessed which combined her DNA with a chimera of her pet penguin. Despite their current belief that the attacks had finally ended, given five years of calm, Pudding felt they needed to be ready in the off chance that a new threat arose again. Their animal instincts warned they could not become complacent with the apparent peace. Soon, they would be called back to the fight again.
An observable complication of the genetic mutations was the emergence of animal traits when not intended. The troublesome condition first occurred with the team leader whose cat ears and tail would pop out when she felt excited or embarrassed. Ichigo had experienced problems with the genetic manifestation early in the project, her ears and tail slipping her control and revealing themselves at inopportune moments without a full transformation. The problem had progressed so far as turning the girl fully into a black cat. The only apparent requirements for the manifestation was a speeding heartbeat.
Pudding never paid much attention to controlling the appearance of their animal traits while they worked at the café, but after enrollment in the finishing school it became lucrative to hide the anomaly, even as the happening became more easily triggered. Anger, fear, and surprise were the hardest to manage since these emotions could trigger a fight or flight response which would set off Pudding's warrior animal genetics. Pudding did not have much difficulty controlling the abnormal changes through physical causes of a higher heartrate, such an exercise, but emotional changes always required a more focused level of concentration to keep the mutation at bay. Usually, Pudding loved their animal traits. They had first met Ichigo because they wanted animal traits for themselves to enhance their act. However, Pudding needed to keep the furry monkey ears and tail hidden when at school. They could not even imagine how Mother-sensei would respond to them, and while a small part of Pudding wanted to see the outcome, a more rational part recognized that it would be the worst idea to push their luck. They doubted the outcome would be good.
incoming message – 9:52:34 UTC
Things to focus on like perhaps your biology exam in the morning?
outgoing message – 9:54:54 UTC
Yikes, look at you keeping tabs of my schedule. You're not going to become a stalker, are you? Joking. I've been staring at this textbook and trying to find any information I don't feel I already know, but I really do think I'm ready for the test.
incoming message – 9:56:21 UTC
That is good. I am certain you will do well.
outgoing message – 9:57:32 UTC
I appreciate your confidence. What percent certainty?
incoming message – 9:58:02 UTC
At least 98.672% certain.
The end of the semester could not come soon enough. It would only be a short break if Huang decided to send Pudding back yet again for the Fall semester, but the Summer pause was always welcome. Pudding would have all Summer to convince their father that the finishing school was not where they needed to be. Doubtlessly, they would need to fight the report letter from Mother-sensei, but Pudding was determined in any case. At the very least, the illicit fireworks Pudding set off in the courtyard to accent their acrobatics to celebrate the end of term would make Mother-sensei think twice about insisting they return in the new term.
Finally heading home, Pudding tilted their head down towards the floor so that their extensive looped braids swung into place, covering their ears as they walked through the security check point. If the security personnel noticed their furry earlobes, Pudding would face a lot of trouble. They could not help the way their heart pounded, the way their blood raced through their veins. They were finally going home and they could not reel in their excitement. With excitement, of course, came the emergence of their animal traits. Consistently, Pudding experienced more trouble controlling their ears than their tail in situations like this. Potentially, they spent so much energy and concentration focused on keeping the tail from popping from their waistline that Pudding neglected the ears. The tail would be more troublesome, immodestly pulling up their dress – quite an indecent display of tomfoolery, Mother-sensei would surely say on the matter.
Pudding was particularly proud of how efficiently they hid the genetic mutation during the time since the commencement of the project. The scientists had hoped the mutations would fade once the final battle completed, but it had long since been clear the mutations were here to stay. Another possibility promised the gene fusing would accelerate over time and become even more apparent, though the scientists tried to minimize concern on the matter, optimistically hoping the mutations would plateau and stabilize eventually. In Pudding's experience, this worse outcome appeared more likely the case. Though they employed excellent control over them, their animal traits pushed to emerge far more often than before. With each partial transformation, the traits seemed to grow more severe. The fur concerned Pudding, though they supposed they had not yet experienced transforming fully into a monkey the way Ichigo had transformed into a cat on numerous occasions. The problem was still manageable and that was the important fact. Regardless, Pudding hoped this Summer they would be able to contact the scientists or their old friends to give a report and see if the others were experiencing the same changes.
No, more than hope, Pudding knew they would contact the others this Summer. Pudding had a plan, and they would certainly see it through. It was far past time that they return to their job, or at least do research into whether or not the café was still operational. Additionally, with Pudding holding a responsible job, Huang would have a harder time justifying another semester at the finishing school. Pudding would show him just how responsible and grown up and serious they could be. There was no reason to send them back to that place, and they would be sure he saw those traits. They would be sure the scientists addressed the new animal traits as well.
The male security guard smiled kindly as Pudding gathered their carry-on baggage. Pudding returned a polite smile of their own, turning their eyes away strategically, careful to avoid eye control – the goal was to appear shy, not suspicious. Nowadays, when their animal traits began to emerge, Pudding's eyes would often turn the same orange as when they were Mew Pudding. They could not risk the guard's reaction to the odd coloring. They did not need him looking at them twice. Pudding was just a normal teenager traveling home; just a young person in an orange-golden dress. Certainly, there was nothing special or remarkable about them. They resisted the urge to touch their braids and check the coverage. The braids would not move and reveal their monkey ears, Pudding knew. After all, they had braided the furry tips of their ears directly into the intricately braided hoops of their now-long hair. The braids would hold. Pudding was excited.
They leaned back against a pillar, setting their bag on the ground beside them as they examined the directional signs above to find their gate number. The flight home would not be long, which suited Pudding just fine. They did not particularly enjoy flying. That was more Mint's area of expertise. Nonetheless, it was a necessity, and so Pudding would endure it, even if the pressure changes made them feel sick. Their gate would be at the end of the terminal. Pudding sighed, calmly picking up their bag. Standing straight again, Pudding felt it – the soft tickle of fur on their legs.
They glanced around to check that no one had taken particular notice of them. No one had. Experimentally, the blond teenager flexed the tail, attempting to remove as much contact between the tail and the dress as possible. They had carelessly allowed their discipline to slip. Huang would be so disappointed. Pudding giggled at the thought. As if hiding animal characteristics was a thing Huang would have anything to say about. They shifted their carry-on bag behind them, so that the bag bounced on their butt as they moved. Across the hall, Pudding saw the little illuminated RESTROOM sign. It was maybe fifty feet of exposure in which they might be apprehended, their secret divulged to a magnitude of strangers. The challenge was enticing. Pudding grinned with mischievous determination before beginning the trek across the hall. They wondered if the others found themselves in situations such as this nowadays. They supposed they would need to ask once they reestablished contact with the group.
They paused between the entryways to the two restrooms – men to the right, women to the left. But which way for little monkeys? They took to the left and slipped into the first stall, securely locking the door behind. They dropped the bag unceremoniously to the ground at their feet. Finally, Pudding released their control over the tail. It bounced skyward, playfully pulling the dress up and out of place. Pudding tugged on the appendage absently. The joyful curl at the tip that they loved so much seemed to mock them. Pudding wished they had a pair of pants to wear for this trip. They could let the tail out when they wore pants, but in a dress? it wasn't an option. They pulled on the end, trying to calm their mind and will the tail away again. It was difficult. They were a little too excited to see their family again. Heicha had written to them about a new routine she was working on. Lucha and Honcha wrote about new martial techniques they had mastered and could not wait to show Pudding. Chincha and Hanacha wrote about school and the new things they were learning. Pudding was excited to talk with them about all of it! Although Huang had sent them to the finishing school, Pudding still maintained the unchallenged position of best older sibling. Breathing exercises, that was what Pudding needed to calm their excitement. The idea of soaring through the sky in an iron tank also helped Pudding to sober up.
Pudding unlocked the stall. They splashed some water on their face at the sinks, cool and reassuring. They would soon be home. They would soon be reunited with their family and friends. The team had not seen one another for long enough, and Pudding would make sure they would not go another year separated. Their siblings would have grown significantly since Pudding left. They would make sure to acknowledge and encourage each of them.
outgoing message – 9:58:46 UTC
Hahaha! Three decimal points. Nice.
incoming message – 9:59:10 UTC
I would show you my full calculations if I were not so busy dividing my attention between all these things demanding my focus and involvement.
outgoing 10:23:09 UTC
Ok, just so we're clear, I do know you just wrote out a string of random numbers to make fun of me.
incoming 10:23:32 UTC
Perhaps, but joking aside, I truly do not believe you will have any difficulty. You are a highly capable person.
The airplane stood at the end of a metallic tunnel with a carpeted floor, as if the airport attempted to give such a cold place a homey feeling. It was a ridiculous attempt. Regardless, the blond teenager smiled brightly to the flight attendant just inside the airplane's door as if nothing bothered them about flying. Once on board, Pudding found their seat easily. They reserved one next to a window, right over the left wing of the plane. A man seated in front of them helped to put their carry-on bag up in the overhead storage compartment. They settled into the seat, back straight, delicately intertwining their fingers and resting their hands in their lap. The flight was four and a half hours to Narita International Airport. The plane would be touching down before they even oriented themselves to taking off. Pudding repeated those assurances to themselves until they half believed it. Their tail wiggled out again between their legs, under their clasped hands. It fidgeted impatiently. Pudding was excited. They wanted to be home already. They wanted to see their siblings and start their summer adventures.
Pudding thought again of the possibility of meeting up with their friends from the café. The team had scattered to the corners of the world, but they had a feeling in their gut, an animal instinct that lead them to believe the old team would be back this year. It kept a bright smile on their face to imagine how everyone would have changed in their years apart. Zakuro would likely be as aloof as before. Mint would probably be particularly spoiled, doubtlessly a big ballet star by now. Lettuce would still want everyone to get along. Ichigo would likely still be clumsy and lovestruck. Aoyama would probably be mysterious, handsome and a die-hard environmentalist as always.
Pudding had not thought about the team's opponents-turned-almost-friends, the aliens, for some time. Even so, Pudding's thoughts turned to them now. How were they doing? Did they restore their planet with Mew Aqua? Did they think about the Earth every now and then still? Did they remember Tokyo Mew Mew? As the aircraft began to turn onto the runway, Pudding caught a movement in the corner of their eye – above the wing, a ripple in the air that brought back memories of pigtails they hadn't seen for years. A pout that hid a smile; arms crossed tightly in stubbornness; fists that pulled Pudding's hair while they returned the favor.
Pudding gazed out the window as the ground fell away and the plane took to the air. The fighting had not been all bad memories, but with the final battle came the logical end of budding friendships. Pudding had lost connection with their alien friends' storylines when they too to space in their ship to deliver the miraculous Mew Aqua to their home. Pudding would never know if they were successful; never know if they faced repercussions for returning home with the news their leader was dead, destroyed by the Earth's defenders; never know if the three agents would move on from the battle as the Tokyo team had done, or how they would even go about doing that. Pudding wondered if their friend, similarly the youngest of the alien team, even thought about them and wondered how Pudding moved on after the fight. What would he think of Pudding now, sitting demurely with folded hands and long, carefully braided hair? What would he think of them sitting in the uncomfortable, fitted dress that failed to accommodate their tail? Pudding giggled to themselves. There was no doubt their friend would pull their hair and stick out his tongue, proclaiming Pudding had definitely not gotten any cuter over the years.
Of course, the ripple of air over the wing was merely the effect of engine heat interacting with cooler air; and yet, something hopeful tugged at Pudding's heart. They entertained the possibility the ripple had been caused by something entirely different. With a bright smile, Pudding looked forward to how the Summer would play out this year.
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