Makoto hummed as she worked, laying down garnishes for the salad course of the brunch. The event was not for a few hours, but it being an outdoor picnic, there were quite a few preparations to be done beforehand. With the finishing touches completed, she took a giant roll of cellophane and covered the entire tray of salads, and then stuck the tray in a refrigeration cart.
She wiped her hands on her apron, and noted that she needed to replace the once-pristine cloth, as it was covered with all manner of vegetable juices, though the rest of her white uniform was pristine. This would be her third change today, but Makoto maintained an immaculate kitchen, and her physical appearance was part of it. She untied the apron where it was secured around her waist and tossed it into the laundry bag, pulling out another from a pile of folded linens and quickly wrapping it twice around her waist before tying it behind her.
She surveyed the room, eyes skittering over the various preparations her staff pored over, and then decided to help Watanabe with plating the sashimi appetizer. She was in the midst of flipping another flash-cooked portion of fish when she noticed a strange energy to her left. Sure enough, there were two women walking through the kitchen, their sedately polite pace sticking out amongst the efficiently hurrying cooks.
As they drew near, she took stock of them. The shorter woman in front seemed younger, but moved as if she had experience in a kitchen, making her presence known if she was walking behind someone and using her hands to guide herself around them. She had a wide, open face and demure manner that matched her casual clothes. The woman behind her looked a little foreign, and was much taller, sporting a sharp black suit. She easily maneuvered around the hustle and bustle, but her movements were more like a fighter's, a fluid reaction to telegraphed actions. Their eyes met, and Makoto nodded to them, and they made a beeline towards her.
For a moment she had to look down at what she was doing, and aware that the two were coming closer, she became overly conscious of her hands, the way the thick muscles of her forearms moved her long fingers and how her tall frame bent to handle the delicate plating she was working on. She frowned, habitually tamping down that negative line of thought.
She finished her task and looked up to see that the two women had arrived, watching her with interest. Well, at least the shorter of the two was eyeing her cooking, an honestly interested look on her face as she leaned over to see the sashimi, while the taller woman had a veiled look, helped by her dark sunglasses she still wore though they were inside. Obviously a security type, Makoto thought, but it was odd for there to be security detail for one cook.
"Good afternoon," Makoto greeted, for once thankful for the Japanese tradition of bowing, for her hands were still covered in sauce and spices. "Tagoto-san?"
Tagoto grinned and nodded, bowing as well. She had a cute manner and a short haircut that reminded Makoto of the blue haired doctor from yesterday, and she fought the urge to blush. "Yes, Kino-san, and might I say first that your kitchen is giving off a most delicious scent." She turned to her companion. "This is Freshé Vincent." The tall, dark woman leaned forward, and Makoto bowed to her as well, somehow reminded of the beginning of a karate match. She executed the bow more crisply than she had to Tagoto, and through the tensing body language of the other, she knew that they were both aware of each other's fighting past.
Makoto smiled disarmingly. "Please, call me Mako-chan," she said to both women. She began to lead them towards her office, which was really a glorified closet with a tiny desk and one chair, wiping her hands on her apron. Reaching in, she pulled a stapled set of papers. "Here is the list of dishes we're serving for today's brunch. Does the queen dislike any of these, to your knowledge?" When she handed the shorter woman the papers, she noticed a wedding band.
Tagoto eyed the list. "No, no, these all look good. Iono-sama likes many different cuisines, and from what I have seen and smelled since we got here, everything seems delicious." She tilted the papers towards Freshé, who looked over the shorter woman's shoulder and nodded. Tagoto handed the sheaf of papers back. "And please, call me Arata."
Makoto noticed a tensing in Freshé's shoulders, and Tagoto noticed it as well. She turned and took Freshé's hand. "Is something wrong?" she asked softly and sweetly. It was then that Makoto noticed a matching band on Freshé's left hand, cradled in Tagoto's small palm. So that is why security is tailing a cook, Makoto thought. She gave them a moment while Tagoto looked Freshé in the eye and stroked the back of her hand with her thumb.
Makoto shifted, drawing the attention of Freshé, which turned Tagoto around. "Did you want to supervise the preparations, Tagoto-san?" she asked.
The young woman smiled ruefully. "I'm doomed to be forever known by my family name!" she exclaimed, buffing Freshé on the shoulder good naturedly with her free hand, as the other was still holding onto Freshé's. "And no, Kino-san, I'm actually just here in Iono-sama's entourage as a pretense to come to Japan. We collectively trust your cooking, considering our last visit's spectacular results, so we're just stopping by before visiting my folks." She gave her companion another fond look. "I think Freshé is just nervous about seeing my folks. My dad and brothers like to pick on her."
Makoto actually chuckled when she saw a blush appear from underneath the taller woman's shades. "Tagoto-san!" the security agent admonished, embarrassed.
The cook shared a grin with Makoto. "See how easy it is! She's a little bit prudish, so my crazy family teases her a lot. She still calls me Tagoto-san in public and in front of my family, even though we've been married for four years!"
Makoto laughed along. "It's good to have family that accepts you," she said. "And, again, please call me Mako-chan." She took into account how open the pair had been with her, and decided to return some of that trust. "I grew up in America, so the only Japanese people I spoke to were my parents and a few adults at church. It's odd to have people call me 'Kino-san' or 'Kino-sempai' and be very formal." She reached into a drawer and pulled out a length of ribbon.
Tagoto gasped and clapped her hands. "So you know English very well?" Makoto nodded. "That's great, Mako-chan! Freshé's native language is English, actually. Let's switch!"
Makoto cleared her throat. "Is that all right?" she asked in English, looking back and forth between the pair while leading them back into the still bustling kitchen.
"Yes," Freshé replied, smiling for the first time. Makoto liked the low timbre of her voice.
Tagoto gave a thumbs-up. "Kitchen language is same!"
Makoto and Freshé shared a smile. Makoto led them towards a back part of the kitchen where food preparation mostly took place, and there a lone worker was filling a few crystal bowls with something sugary. Makoto's mouth watered as the scent of ginger and sweets, and ripped off a section of cellophane from a nearby roll. She held out the cellophane and the assistant dutifully scooped a generous portion onto it, and Makoto then brought the edges of the clear wrap up and around, making a pouch, and then tying the top with a ribbon.
"This is for your family," Makoto explained, dropping the package onto Tagoto's hands. She reached back and plucked two pieces from the immense pile and handed them to the pair. "It's candied ginger."
She enjoyed how Tagoto's eyes lit up, as the pair nibbled. "This is fantastic," Freshé said, chewing thoughtfully and then licking the excess sugar from her lips. Tagoto nodded in agreement, too busy chewing. Makoto grabbed a piece for herself. It wasn't bad at all, she had to admit to herself.
They finished their pieces in companionable silence, before Makoto sighed, having surveyed the kitchen and seeing a few dozen areas where she was needed. "If you'll excuse me, ladies," she began, her voice obviously regretful, "I must go back to the preparations for today's brunch. Can you find your own way out?"
"Yes, I believe we can," Freshé replied, bowing lightly.
Tagoto bowed as well. "Your kitchen is great very much!"
Makoto bowed back, and switched to Japanese. "Thank you very much." The pair left with waves and smiles, and Makoto took a moment to watch them go. To her, they seemed to have a happy, normal life. She sighed, a deep, yearning sigh that trailed off wistfully.
Snapping back to attention, she hustled over to help Watanabe finish with the sashimi, tossing off her apron and putting on a new one.
Minako's fingers drummed on the desk, and Haruka gave her PR Director an annoyed look. "Yes, I understand your position, Himura-san, but you will have to find some other way to achieve that end." She was addressing her Minister of Interior through a screen, glad that he wasn't physically in front of her so she would have to resist the urge to punch him. "I can't condone cutting down trees in that particular national forest to put in a shrine." She had been teleconferencing with the Cabinet member for the last hour and a half and was nearly as grouchy as Himura sounded. Considering he was supposed to be working under the Prime Minister's directives, he was awfully combative, and their meeting was extending well beyond its scheduled hour.
Consequently Minako was kept waiting, and the young blonde was not a patient woman. Haruka wished that Himura was actually giving his report in person so she could use her height advantage to intimidate him into ending their debate, but he was off in the southwest part of the country doing something or other related to his job. And as aggravating as the man was, he was at least on Haruka's side, insofar as he wanted to keep his job. And there were plenty of other Diet members, even in Haruka's own party, who wouldn't even speak to her.
The Prime Minister turned her attention back to Minako, who was now idly doodling on the side of a manila folder. The energetic PR Director was rarely found in one spot for very long, especially in the office. Haruka was heard tell, however, of a time that Minako and Mako-chan had gone shopping together and the vivacious blonde has spent 45 minutes standing in front of a mirror, choosing between two dresses, only to end up buying both.
Haruka decided that she had had enough of Himura, and moved to end the call. "As you can see, I've had Aino-san waiting for 30 minutes, so we must end for today. I will discuss your reports with the other Cabinet members during our afternoon meeting..." At this point the stocky man looked as if he was going to interrupt but Haruka bulled on. "…And we'll see if they can't come up with some viable options." She flipped the switch, and the screen went blank.
Both Haruka and Minako loudly sighed. "I was about to tear my hair out!" Minako cried. "Is he always that boorish and boring?"
Haruka shrugged. "Sometimes he's hardheaded and exasperating." She took off her military jacket, which she made a point to wear during conference calls with men like Himura: all of the medals and commendations made a least a tiny impression. A touch of blue and gold drew her attention and she suddenly remembered something.
"Minako, what is this medal for?" she asked, pointing out the design of a circle with what looked like a trident sticking out of it.
The blonde leaned forward. "Ah, that's from the Astronomical Fellowship, in regards to your increasing the funding for the space exploration program. I believe they're sending a probe to Uranus, which they think is fitting for you."
Haruka raked her brain for what little Greek Mythology she could recall while also trying to shake off the image of a 'probe to Uranus'. "Wait, isn't that the god who got his testicles chopped off?" She made a face. "What a wonderful association."
Minako giggled. "You know it's because of your androgynous looks. Speaking of looks, you approval rating went up 15 with adults ranged in age from 18-24." The PR Director opened her folder—was that a unicorn she doodled?—to glance at some statistics. "My people have determined the causes to be the Astronomical Fellowship's endorsement—very forward-thinking—and the new Ellen Degeneres comedy came out in theaters and people love it."
Haruka raised an eyebrow. "My approval rating went up because of a movie I had nothing to do with?" she asked, incredulously.
"Yep," Minako replied, her voice almost like a cackle. "I love how that happens." She closed her folder—the doodle actually looked more like a chicken—and tossed her hair back. "Thank God you look more like Degeneres-san than, say, George Bush."
Haruka rolled her eyes and glanced at the clock. "Yeah, yeah. Now, what do I need to know about the brunch today?"
Minako nodded and pulled out the other manila folder from an envelope. "The Queen of Arushrain is paying you a visit. We have always had good relations with her and her country, so this is mainly something to show that she still supports you and that recent legislation you passed." She handed the folder to Haruka. "We've gone through the press passes and picked out the embed."
"Does the reporter adhere to the Queen's… tastes?" Haruka asked delicately.
Minako smirked. "Yep, turn the page and I've got a copy of her press pass photo." Haruka did so and found Minako to be completely honest: the woman journalist was actually a knockout, with long black hair and a fiercely beautiful countenance.
Haruka idly flipped through the other pages of information about the Queen and the people she brought with her. The Queen had quite an entourage, and noticeably all female. "Why do I feel like an escort service agent, bringing in attractive young women for my distinguished guests?" she asked.
This time Minako laughed loudly. "You haven't had qualms before because she's the first attractive young woman we've had as opposed to the gangly soccer enthusiast for David Beckham's visit or the wrinkly, old British ex-patriot for the Queen of England." The young blonde took a thoughtful moment. "Though an escort service wouldn't be an unsound financial investment."
Haruka snorted. Embedding journalists into formal functions had been Minako's idea, as a way to present the Tenoh administration as open to criticism as all times. Minako carefully screened each reporter, so Haruka had yet to be terribly burned, though to her it seemed like cheating to pick out the reporter specifically. She had voiced her reservations to Minako, and the bubbly blonde turned unusually serious. "Tenoh-san" she had said, "Your job is to be honest and serve the country. My job is to make people realize that you are doing so and doing a marvelous job at it. As far as I'm concerned we will always be on the defensive so I'm going to need your trust." Haruka took a lesson of trust from long ago and gave it all to Minako, who returned her confidences perfectly. Now, of all of Haruka's "co-workers", Minako was one of the few she counted as a friend.
"So," she began, interrupting Minako from her call-girl company musings. "The embed isn't here yet, or Unazuki would have called, so was there anything you wanted to take care of before we head to the brunch?"
Minako stood and brushed her fingers across her immaculate suit. "I'm actually not coming to the brunch; there are a couple of other things I need to take care of." She lifted her purse and Haruka stood as well. "I'll wait for the embed with you, and then head out."
Haruka nodded, walking over to a tiny closet and putting away her military jacket, pulling a gray coat out instead. She heard a clearing of a throat and looked over her shoulder at Minako, who was shaking her head. "With those shoes?" Sighing, Haruka pulled out a navy sport coat, which got a nod of approval from Minako.
"So how exactly do you get to tell me how to dress?" Haruka groused good-naturedly.
"Because I'm the one actually running the country." Her smile was so devilish that Haruka nearly believed her.
A/N: I love to make references, and usually I don't point them out, because that would be telling people of my bald-faced stealing. But today you get to know that Makoto's chef outfit is brought to you by Lara the Soup Chef from The L Word, with a little Ratatouille mixed in.
And, of course, Tagoto and Freshé, Iono-sama, and her entourage are from the excellent manga Iono the Fanatics, and all the characters are copyright Miyabi Fujieda. For scanlations of this marvelous yuri comic, look up Dynasty Scans. All their stuff is grrreat.
