SUMMARY EDIT: This was to add the 'slice of life' genre. There won't be dramatic battle scenes with a giant beetle - this is focussing on the Mews' - and particularly, Zakuro's - normal life. I appreciate that this genre can seem a bit boring to people, particularly in multi-chapter stories, but I'm a great fan of this genre so I thought I'd slip this warning in.
After bidding farewell to Zakuro, Saionji stepped onto the mosaic-like garden path leading to his grandmother's home. Entering the house, he called out "I'm back!" and proceeded to untie his shoelaces.
"Hiromu-chan! You're quite late back," came a woman's concerned reply, "was everything alright at work?"
Saionji shut the shoe-closet with a 'clang' and joined his grandmother in the warm sitting room, where she had a questioning look illuminated by the glow of the television set. He smiled reassuringly at her and bent over awkwardly to take an empty teacup from the ornate coffee table. She pressed again with her enquiry. "Hiromu, I asked if everything was okay. I saw you with a girl, long purple hair and ever so tall; outside the Cafe Mew Mew."
Saionji stood up straight. "Ah, yes, yes. That's one of the customers, she forgot an ingredient and I had to chase after her." The teacup hung by its handle from his chubby finger, and the icy dregs dripped onto his feet. The cold china and damp tea-leaves soaking his socks reminded him of the icy touch of Cafe Mew Mew's tumbler, sitting opposite a celebrity. A celebrity who had come out to him in an emotional outburst. But ... what could be so bad about money, good food, a quality place to stay and attention of all the girls?
"I see," said the old woman, rising to her feet and bringing Saionji out of his trance. "Well, that matter is now sorted. Help me with dinner, Hiromu, then afterwards I have something quite important to tell you."
-
Zakuro arrived at her hotel room at the same moment Saionji and his grandmother sat at the dinner table. She casually pictured what his home was like as she reached for the pre-packaged salad lying in the refrigerator, images - of a mother with robust arms and large breasts cuddling her teenaged son, a grandmother with a bright apron and healthy, rosy cheeks watching her grandchildren eat home-cooked food proudly - dancing around her head. She didn't know whether she really would see him again, or even if the boy would remember.
Emptying the last of the coleslaw over the salad, she threw the tub into the bin along with any thoughts of Saionji. She fell asleep early that night sitting upright in bed, a light novel slipping from her hands onto the floor and her head resting against the wall.
-
"Hey, Saionji-kun."
Saionji looked up blearily from his summer-school Classical Japanese textbooks. His desk was littered with ruled paper bearing his small, scrunched handwriting. After having received a telling-off from a disgruntled teacher for forgetting homework, he was now sitting in completing it. "Oh, good morning ..."
The classmate took a seat next to him. "Do you have plans tonight? We're going to go and see a movie then go off to that cafe Himitsu keeps raving about."
Saionji was about to agree, when he realised with a groan that once again, he was due to work straight after this catch-up school session. And there was that issue his grandmother and he discussed the night before. "Sorry, I can't come along. Workin'."
The classmate let out a crude laugh. "Your loss, Saionji-kun, though any guy with a beating pulse would call in sick if they had a chance to see that purple-haired waitress at this Cafe Mew Mew. She has legs up to here."
Saionji's senses by now had awakened fully, and bit his tongue before replying. Zakuro-sama. Oh my God, I can't say a word that might make them suspect her. I can't go against my word, I promised to keep her whereabouts to myself.
A girl dashed excitedly into the room, a group of clones giggling in her wake. "Hey, Honda! Is Saionji-san coming or what?"
"No," said Honda with a disappointed expression, "he's working at that cake shop again."
The leader of the girlish gang groaned dramatically. "Saionji-san, are you turning into a workaholic?"
Saionji once more looked up from his textbooks, starting to feel annoyance bubbling in the pit of his stomach. "I'm short on money, and besides, celebrities aren't my type. I'll come some other time, okay?"
"Not your type ...?"
"Honda, Kotobuki, Matsuda, Otsuka!" came a loud roar from the doorway of the classroom. The Classical Japanese teacher stood like an enraged bull, eyes narrowed at Saionji's classmates. "OUT!"
The boy and the three girls crept from the room, shoulders hunched. Saionji quickly returned to his work, a blush creeping across his cheeks. The teacher crossed the room with angry footsteps, slamming a register onto the desk with venom. Saionji began to write faster, each written word one step closer to escaping.
-
Zakuro strode into the cafe, her knee-length coat flecked with spots of rain. Stepping gracefully past a whispering Ryou and Ichigo, she interrupted quietly with "What's my first task for today?"
"Good afternoon, Zakuro-san!" Ichigo said brightly, turning away from their employer. Zakuro gave a nod in return as her gaze returned to the top of Ryou's head.
"Ah, Zakuro," Ryou said cheerfully, "you can put on the ovens for pre-heating, and start to mix up some pre-made cake batter. Keiichiro is a little held-up."
An inclination of the head and a brief journey to the dressing room later, Zakuro entered the kitchen while tying her apron securely around her waist. She deftly tied up her long hair, but eyed the packet worriedly. All you needed was water and vanilla essence ... how hard can this be?
She reached up to a high shelf for the little glass bottle. It was when she had it in her hand and double-checked its label that Hiromu Saionji floated into her mind again. Zakuro wondered if he did truly understand what she had meant as she shook a few drops into the foil packet of dust-like powder. With a sigh, she returned the bottle to its high shelf with a 'clink'. She flinched as she heard the kitchen entrance open, and turned to face Keiichiro.
"Hello, Zakuro ... did I make you jump?"
"A little," Zakuro acknowledged, turning back to the dry batter.
"Sorry," he laughed. "I always prefer this entrance to the main doors."
"Me too," Zakuro agreed, her teeth gritted. Stupid, stupid girls. They're like ten year olds in high-school uniform.
Keiichiro stepped across the kitchen and pulled his chef's overalls on over his shirt. "I see Ryou told you to mix the pre-made stuff? I usually buy it for busy days when I don't have a lot of time, you see, and we're expecting quite a few people from the summer-school sessions nearby."
"Oh, I see," Zakuro answered, running cold water directly from the tap into a jug. She collected a mixing bowl, and emptied both powder and water into it a little uncertainly. Keiichiro gallantly took the bowl from her.
"I'll deal with the cakes now, Zakuro. See if you can get the chairs down from the tables."
Zakuro silently cursed herself as she strode into the main cafe. It would make a great deal of sense if I'd learnt basic cooking after three years of working here ... but I've never had to, wherever else I've stayed ...
As she retrieved the chairs from the tables and set up the cafe for business, the doors opened with a rush of rain. Retasu Midorikawa stepped in, muddy footprints clouding the bright floor. "Good afternoon, everyone. It's not very nice out there today ..."
"We know." Zakuro said shortly as Retasu eased her feet out of Wellington boots and scampered in stocking-clad feet across the cafe floor to the door leading into the corridor. Ryou eyed the muddy footprints disapprovingly as Ichigo fetched a mop and bucket. She placed the large bucket on the floor, and Retasu skidded on the tiles as she turned in the direction of the resulting 'clang'.
The ringing of the telephone broke the silence. Zakuro leaned against the wall, briefly observing Retasu topple over and wail with embarrassment as she sighed a response. "Hello?"
"Zakuro-onee-chan! Good afternoon!"
"Good afternoon, Purin," said Zakuro, trying to keep her voice friendly. "How are you feeling?"
"Purin is feeling slightly better, na no da, but Heicha-chan has the chicken-pox." the young girl replied. Zakuro could hear other children chattering behind Purin's voice, and the rattle of cutlery on plates. "We're eating dinner at the moment, na no da, so it's only a quick call."
"Okay, Purin," Zakuro replied, fiddling with the telephone cable. She could see Retasu crawl across the floor to scrub the mud from the linoleum out of the corner of her eye, and Ryou supervising her. "When will you next be coming in?"
"In about a week's time, na no da. Thank you, Zakuro-onee-chan!"
As Purin returned to her siblings, Zakuro placed the garish pink receiver back onto the holder and strode over to the diligently cleaning Retasu and Ryou, who was dislodging sleep from his eyelids. Kneeling down, she took the scrubbing brush from Retasu's hand. "I'll finish this," Zakuro stated, "you just go and get dressed."
"Z-Zakuro-san ..." Retasu stuttered, leaning back.
"Go on." Zakuro said a little more firmly. "You're not wearing any shoes or your uniform, go and smarten yourself up, and then come back."
Retasu shot a dubious glance at Ryou, whose eyes gazed at the patch Retasu had been cleaning. Most of the mud had been successfully scrubbed from the shining tiles. "Go on, then." he agreed, watching Retasu scramble to the changing room.
When the door to the corridor had been shut, Ryou let out a small chuckle as he made a large step towards the kitchen. However, Retasu hadn't dried the patch she had cleaned, causing Ryou to slip on the damp surface and lose his footing. Ichigo suppressed her laughter as she ducked past Zakuro and resumed assembling the chairs.
-
Two hours went by, and the atmosphere of Cafe Mew Mew lightened considerably as customers came in out of the rain. Zakuro boiled the kettles to make endless pots of tea for young mothers, Ichigo arranged cakes on small tea-trays to display on the counter, and even Minto had to cut her afternoon-tea time short. Retasu - with a new graze visible on her knee - helped Keiichiro mix cake batter and measure icing. Ryou helped with the waiting duties; and called through to the kitchen five minutes after the door-bell announced a new customer's arrival, like a fanfare.
"Five pots of tea, and eight helpings of cherry crumble!"
Zakuro twitched and peered around the corner of the saloon door. Those girls again. Only now they've brought boys with them. I'm going to have to start being very careful.
Ryou trundled through the kitchen, holding a small silver tea-trolley. "Zakuro-san! You're nearly done with that tea. Please take this large order through for us."
Zakuro wearily arranged the eight small plates of cake on top of the trolley, idly wondering how much Ryou and Keiichiro would save if they didn't buy doilies for each individual serving of dessert. Wheeling the delicate trolley out, she paused in front of the large group of youths and tried to avoid their eyes as she placed the teapots in the middle of the table.
"Wow! You were right, Himitsu, she does look like Zakuro-sama!"
Zakuro took a deep breath to delay the telltale blush on her cheeks. It had been a mere whisper from one boy to his girlfriend; but Zakuro had always had sharp hearing even before her wolf-DNA injection. Now that she'd vowed to take a break from showbusiness for a while; she had suddenly become more paranoid about being discovered. Upholding her dignity, she started placing the slices of crumble in front of each individual.
"Hey ... miss."
"Yes?" came the haughty answer. The tall waitress met the eyes of the boy who had spoken, and judging by his smirk, it looked as if she'd get the 'Kisshu treatment' that the alien had administered to Ichigo so many times.
"That ladder in your stocking ... is that the stairway to-"
The voice was abruptly silenced. Zakuro had slammed down the remaining plate of crumble, and the icing-sugar dust flew across the table. "After you have finished, please call a waitress over to hand you your bill." she said, her voice dripping with venom.
Pushing the trolley back, she left the giggling teenagers and swept away. She felt a large pang of annoyance at their reaction. Usually, Zakuro's cold stare would silence grown men, but these teenagers were ... stupidly immune. Damn them.
She felt the burning eyes sear into her back, but continued walking briskly until she was in the safety of the kitchen.
"Zakuro-san. Zakuro-san."
Zakuro looked up moodily, biting her lip. Keiichiro probed further, calmly meeting her dark blue eyes.
"Zakuro-san, I think you need a break."
The girl didn't answer, or hesitate. She didn't halt when she heard Minto call after her, or Ryou grunt questioningly as she opened the kitchen exit, and hurried out into the rain.
She didn't really know where she was heading, but she let her feet take her to the crossing, stepping out in front of the waiting cars. She kept walking, past the different high-street shops, turning down a small alleyway. She instinctively reached out for an old door handle, and strode in. The bell tinkled innocently, as the door swung shut behind her.
The slightly sweet smell. The warm interior. That familiar face peering around the corner as Zakuro realised exactly where she was.
"Wakamatsu-san?"