Chapter 3: Mint

Aizawa Mint carefully placed her teacup on the table and sighed. There was less than half an hour to prepare everything before the café was scheduled to open, and it seemed that no one would show up to do the job. Berry wasn't scheduled to work that day, and Pudding was gone to some teacher's meeting concerning one of her siblings. Lettuce had been in a total funk for days, though Mint had no idea why; and she wasn't there. And of course, Ichigo was late - as usual.

But Zakuro was there, at least. She hadn't been working much at the café lately, because she was starring in another film and they were shooting her scenes. But she had come in that day, and Mint's eyes grew dreamy as she saw her idol come in through the kitchen entrance. Never had anyone been so beautiful, so slender, so graceful as Fujiwara Zakuro. Her feet danced across the floor as she moved, hardly touching the tiles. Her long, lithe dancer's legs stretched far from the floor up to a curvy round booty (Mint would never think that Zakuro had something as crude and vulgar as a butt). And above that, her figure slimmed to a tiny waist and then swelled to full and shapely breasts. Her rich, long, dark hair danced as she walked, to a tune counter to the one made by her feet. Her face was as perfect as any artist could imagine, with dark sapphire eyes that were beautiful beyond human. Mint sighed again as she stared at the perfection that was Fujiwara Zakuro. She knew that never could any other human being be as attractive, as desirable, as divinely perfect.

And then she rose. There was no one else there, just herself and Zakuro. Even the guys had gone somewhere. She was alone with Zakuro. She was acting on impulse, but she knew what she had to do. Mint walked up behind the older girl until she stood only half a step from her. Then, without hesitation, she spoke, in a half-whisper. "Onee-sama?"

Zakuro turned, and was somewhat startled by how close the younger girl stood. It was ever-so-rare that anything could make Zakuro the least bit flustered, but Mint's closeness had somewhat shocked her. Her eyes looked down into Mint's, who stared up into those deep pools of sapphire beauty. Zakuro was silent for a few seconds, trying to figure out what was going on; but then she said, "Minto, do you want something?"

There were another few seconds of silence, when the only sound was the breathing of the two girls. And then Mint breathed a single word: "You." And her arms encircled Zakuro's slender waist while her lips opened slightly and reached up for Zakuro's.

But Zakuro's lips did not open in return. Instead she spoke, in a low but very hard voice, "Minto, let go of me, or I will hurt you. I'll pound the crap out of you." Then she pushed the younger girl away, not roughly, but firmly.

For a second wild emotions raced through Mint's heart: hurt, anger, shame. Then she mastered herself, at least a little, and she said bitterly, "Why not? I've loved you since I first saw you! And you never even acknowledged my love! What's wrong with me? Am I not good enough for you?"

Zakuro turned away from Mint and took a deep breath. Then she exhaled and spoke: "Minto, when will you realize that my door just doesn't swing that way?" She turned back to Mint. "I've tried to be your friend, but that look in your eyes makes it hard. Desire, longing, even lust at times. I suppose if I had any desires in that direction, maybe I'd give you a little, just to cheer you up. But Minto, forbidden love is not my thing."

Tears came into Mint's blue eyes. "If you tried me, you'd like it. You'd love it!" But Zakuro just shook her head.

So Mint said, "You say you're not that way, but you never had a boyfriend."

"What do you know about my private life?" Zakuro responded. "Do you think that I would keep the rest of you filled in about my dates? When you're in my position, you spend half your life hiding your private life from the tabloids. And from people like you here at the café."

"So that's it!" Mint muttered. "You think that if people saw you with me, it would ruin your precious image!"

For a second anger flashed through Zakuro's dark eyes, but just as quickly she mastered herself, and her voice did not rise. "In this day and age, if I had an affair with the under-age heiress Aizawa Mint, it would probably enhance my career. No, Minto. As I said, it's just that my door doesn't swing that way."

Anger flashed through Mint's eyes in return. "And I suppose you're worried about what the others here would think."

But Zakuro just shook her head. "They don't even notice what passes between us – mostly. Pudding's too young, Lettuce is too naïve. Berry is so full of herself that she doesn't really notice anyone else. Ichigo noticed, though, a long time ago. There's a lot more to that girl than you might think."

Mint frowned at the mention of Ichigo's name. That vulgar girl! Yet clearly she was closest to Zakuro of all the Mew Mews, and Zakuro had given her advice repeatedly on her love life with that immature boy Aoyama. Mint gritted her teeth. "Ichigo?" she asked incredulously. "How can you like that oaf instead of me?"

But Zakuro just shook her head and turned away. "Minto, it saddens me that you won't believe me. My door doesn't swing that way. Leave it at that." And she walked back toward the kitchen.

Mint was just about to run after her to throw herself upon her, when the front door opened, and Lettuce came through it. And Mint sighed one more time. Another chance was lost!

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It was several hours later, and the evening had deepened into twilight. Mint sat quietly, sipping her tea, trying, with little success, to get the others to do their jobs properly. Her eyes swept the room, seeking Zakuro. Then she saw her, heading toward the back entrance. But she was not alone. Ichigo was with her!

The two girls went together through the door and disappeared outside. And Mint knew that something was going on between them. She could tell by the way they looked at each other, by the way they whispered so secretly, by the way they walked so close to each other. Quietly she rose, and headed out – not through the back, lest the others see her following Zakuro. She slipped out the front door and then crept around to the back.

She could not see the other two. There was a park back there, the park where Ichigo had first encountered a chimera anima, had first met Ryou, and had become the first Mew Mew. Surely those two girls had to be out there, somewhere. Mint slipped into the bushes and headed away from the building, creeping through the shadows. Then a small glade opened in the woods before her; and there she saw them.

Zakuro and Ichigo were locked in a tight embrace. They were not close to Mint, and the darkness was gathering swiftly. Mint could not get closer to see exactly what was going on, but in her mind's eye, she could see it all: Ichigo's filthy hands caressing the soft curves of Zakuro's body, Ichigo's crude and vulgar mouth tasting the wonderful sweetness of Zakuro's lips… Why did Zakuro, in all her perfection, waste herself on that vulgar loser, that childish idiot, that worthless skank with her shapeless body and ugly red hair?

It was bad enough that Zakuro had lied to her, telling Mint that she had no interest in such romance. But she had chosen Ichigo – chosen her over Mint! Mint was a ballerina, Mint was heiress to one of the largest fortunes in Japan! And Mint had… class. Why? Why wasn't she good enough? Why?

Mint closed her eyes tightly to keep any tears from leaking out. And suddenly, her heart changed. Suddenly, she did not care what Zakuro saw in that pathetic, ugly girl. All that mattered was that that dirty skank Ichigo was taking her Zakuro away from her. That would not be! Somehow, she would stop it! Zakuro would be hers!

She opened her eyes. The two girls had ended their embrace and were walking back toward the café. Mint slipped away, sneaking back toward the front door. The pain left her heart; it was completely empty now. Then slowly her heart began to fill, not with pain or shame this time, but with passionate hatred. Not for Zakuro, but for Ichigo. She would win Zakuro back, she thought grimly. And if she had to destroy that red-haired slut to do it, so much the better!

So clouded by hatred was her mind that in the darkness she didn't notice the tree root before her, and she tripped and fell. She hit the ground hard, falling on her side. She lay there gasping for several seconds while her racing heart slowly calmed itself. It seemed as if nothing was broken; but she would be bruised. Bruised, and dirty, like some common, vulgar girl.

But no! She had class; she had never been common, and never would be. She would never be like that vulgar skank Ichigo. Never!