Yay a hilarious chapter of Bienvenue en France, Nagisa! I'm tired from writing...
Review responding!
johann ghill: Muchas gracias para tu revisión. Sí, puedo entender tu español. Hay mas Shizuma en este capítulo, and there will be more Shizuma in the next few chapters (forgot how to say that in Spanish, I hate the verb "haber.")
KaraWasHere: lol Tamao would so do that. I'm surprised they never did that in the series. It would've been great. I'm sure Molly and I could replace Yaya and Tsubomi, but I'm not sure if we do so yet...
TruePrime: Pardon my ignorance, but what is fourth wall? Is that like in crackfics where characters comment on the series? I'm assuming so because that's what Nagisa and Hikari did. French coffee is very depressing lol...
Major Mike Powell III: Sir, yes sir! A pixie cut's like those short styles for girls; they look sorta Peter Pan-ish. Poor Nagisa indeed, just wait until you read this! XD Yep, Shizuma's back, that unbelievable bitch...
ZIIIX: Yay a newer chapter, and more funny than the last. Gahh, let's hope Molly and I can fill Yaya and Tsubomi's places. I don't think we do a good job in this chapter. I talked to Molly about this, and she wants there to be a scene in which she fist-fights Shizuma. That'll be fun...Chiyo's name is Tsukidate. I have no idea what Chihaya's is, though. ...That fourth wall thing was kinda filler, mostly humor, maybe turning this thing into a quasi-realistic crackfic?
DarkShinji8003: Goodness, if you choked at the last chapter, I hope this one doesn't kill you.
Enjoy! The chapter title means "pardon my French."
BIENVENUE EN FRANCE, NAGISA!
Le Chapitre Quatre
Pardone Moi Français
It wasn't France itself nor its natives Nagisa was scared of. It was the idea of the natives she'd grown up with. Turn on any nihilistic TV program, and the French are almost always portrayed as boorish and snobby. Nobody hated America more than the French (the Japanese weren't crazy about them, but it wasn't like they were unwelcome in Japan). Given this, Nagisa was sure they would hate her guts as soon as she opened her mouth and exposed her lack of prowess in speaking…that language.
The six girls traipsed about the streets of Paris, in search of a café. Molly, like any tourist, was under the impression that Paris would be teeming with coffee shops. As it was, the city was teeming with restaurants and bookstores, just like the city in Ohio the blue-eyed girl left behind.
"This is what I paid almost a thousand dollars for?" Molly snorted. "What a rip-off!"
"What were you expecting?" Bridget asked irately, clearly tired from their aimless walking.
"If there's nothing authentic, couldn't we at least have a Starbucks?"
Nagisa bobbed her head in agreement. "Yeah," she spoke in English. "You could find at least twenty Starbucks in Kyoto."
"See? The French neophyte agrees with me."
"The French neophyte thinks screaming 'bottleneck' is a proper way to carry a conversation in French," Bridget growled.
Bottleneck was one of the only French nouns Nagisa knew, along with the French word for snail. In the course of half an hour she was already approached by three natives — one was handing out flyers, one asking for directions, and one asking Nagisa if he could buy her a drink. Nagisa had either responded with "bottleneck" or "snail." She'd probably already attained a reputation as "that Asian girl who screams 'bottleneck' and 'snail.'"
Mizushima, who had been relatively quiet throughout the trek, suddenly perked up. She pointed ahead, exclaiming, "Them is the coffee shop there!" Her English wasn't as good as Nagisa's and Tamao's.
Molly craned her neck, scanning above the heads of cityfolk going back and forth. "Voil la!" she exclaimed happily. Then she read the sign: "Espresso Royale."
Bridget brightened. "Ah! There's one in Champaign-Urbana! They have awesome lemonade."
The six of them dashed heedlessly across the street — heedlessly, with the exception of the Pepsi semi that nearly ran them over — to the little shop.
It was cold in Espresso Royale, almost too cold. Tamao vaguely suspected it was this cold just so people would buy more hot coffee. Chihaya bounced forward boldly, appropriately demonstrating how one should order a coffee in France.
"Bonjour, mademoiselle," the boy behind the counter greeted. "Ça va?" :Hello, miss. How's it going?:
"Bien, merci," Chihaya responded brightly, her brown eyes taking in the odd Roman alphabet on the menu. "Peux-j'avoir un petit café noir?" :Fine, thank you. Can I have a small black coffee?:
The boy nodded, and tapped on his cash register. When he told her the price, Chihaya winced, realizing all she had brought with her was yen. That was when Molly stepped forward to pay and order, for she had exchanged her money for euros in advance.
Molly ordered a pumpkinspice latte. Bridget ordered lemonade. Mizushima ordered a Coke. Tamao ordered a mocha. Nagisa went last on purpose so she could try and absorb as much French as possible from the others. Now as she awkwardly shuffled forward, she felt the French she'd absorbed go whirling out of her head. Whatever happens to those thoughts that disappear like that?
She realized the boy was staring at her. Waiting for her to order.
"Erm, ça va?" he inquired stiffly.
Nagisa froze. What was the word, what was the word…? "Bottleneck!" she spluttered.
Bridget slapped her forehead. Molly laughed.
As painfully awkward as this situation was, Tamao couldn't help smiling. Nagisa was so cute when she blushed. Right now she was only mildly embarrassed, meaning her cheeks were a soft pink hue. When Nagisa was severely embarrassed, her ears flushed red as well as her chest and neck. The poet knew how to make Nagisa feel that embarrassed and guiltily tried to as much as possible.
The boy's mouth twitched; he was trying not to laugh. In a soft voice he asked her a question, probably asking her to make her order.
"Snail!" Nagisa blurted.
His face was red. She was really making not laughing a challenge for him. He shook his head, murmuring, "Non, non. Nous n'avons pas cela ici." :No, no. We don't have that here.:
"Hammer? Screwdriver?"
"Non, merci. Je l'un ai à la maison." :No, thanks. I have one at home.:
Nagisa was more than embarrassed; she was outright terrified. It was Tamao holding onto her arm in an affectionate gesture that kept the redhead from tearing out of the shop away from this laughing French boy.
"Café noir," the poet murmured in her ear.
"Ehh? Nando yo?"
"Café noir," Tamao repeated patiently. "A black coffee."
"Cuh-cuh-café noir," Nagisa stuttered. Still giggling, the boy rang up her order.
"Let's never do that again," the redhead moaned miserably as they headed back out. Today evening had decided to close in early on Paris. It was only 16:28, but bruised thunderclouds rolled in as a precursor to tonight's weather...and in a way, it was a precursor to another great event for that evening...
---
They were staying in an apartment complex with the other visiting American and Japanese students. About twenty flats had been subletted, for their owners were abroad in other countries. The other fifty or so flats were occupied by natives, some of whom clearly not happy to see these Yanks and Japs tainting their quiet little complex. Tamao had, as a matter of fact, made the acquaintance of one Madame Ponce, an ancient woman staying in the flat across from hers. The poet had seen the woman hunched over a walker, making her way slowly back to her apartment. As she had been taught to with the elderly back at home, Tamao stepped out of this woman's way and offered some help.
"Bonne suare, madame," she greeted. She'd almost bowed, but remembered the general French greeting. She put her hand out.
Madame Ponce just glared at her.
As best she could, Tamao kept up her friendly smile. "Comment ça va? Avez-vous besoin de quelque aide?" She was offering to help the old woman.
"Shut up," Madame Ponce snapped in English. "I hate you. I really, really hate you."
Call the poet sensitive, but she took it kind of personally.
Meanwhile in the flat Bridget and Chihaya were raiding the kitchen. At first they'd amiably agreed to work on dinner together. That, however, was quickly shot to hell once they figured out how different their methods were.
"What are you doing?" Bridget inquired.
"Stirring the pasta," Chihaya answered flatly.
"That's, like, the millionth time you've stirred it in the past ten minutes. It's going to be too soft."
"Oh, would you relax," Chihaya grinned. "Nobody likes uncooked pasta."
"Some may like it al dente, but nobody likes it softer than gum," the pixie-haired girl pouted.
While Bridget and Chihaya argued, Molly was preparing a lesson plan for Nagisa in the living room. Her plan was for Nagisa to write down ten nouns to learn each day.
"As a matter a fac'," Molly chirped in her bizarre accent, "we'll start today! Write down and look up five nouns."
"Hai," Nagisa nodded, pulling out her dictionary.
CRASH!!! "Goddamn it, Bridget!" Chihaya screamed. "Kintama! Baka yaro! Get out!!!"
Bridget came running out of the kitchen with a few ill-aimed pots and pans flying out after her. Once she'd gotten far enough away, she settled down on the floor, gasping for breath. "Jesus Christ," she panted. "You make one little mistake with nutmeg and..."
"What happened?" Mizushima asked from the couch on which she was lying.
The pixie-haired girl blanched. "You don't want to know..."
"Bet I able to guess," the archer sighed.
---
Dinner had been a mildly violent affair. Violent to the stomach, for Chihaya had overcooked the pasta. And violent to the mind, for there were arguments between Chihaya and Bridget mostly, but also between Chihaya and Mizushima, and Bridget and Molly. Afterward, Tamao and Nagisa wisely hid away from all the chaos in their shared bedroom.
"French quiz time!" the poet sang, tearing the light novel out of her friend's grasp.
"Aww, Tamao-chan! Cut me a break for once!" Nagisa rolled onto her back, and irratibly pulled her pillow over her head.
"Not a prayer," Tamao grinned, seating herself on the edge of the redhead's bed. "What's the French word for 'cute'?"
"I'm not doing this," Nagisa mumbled, rolling away from the poet.
"Honte, that's not how you say 'cute' en français." Giggling, Tamao scooted closer to Nagisa. The redhead had curled herself into a ball, leaving her backside vulnerable. As light as a feather, yet as sharply as a triggerfish, Tamao trailed her fingernail swiftly up Nagisa's spine. The redhead squealed, and Tamao pounced. The poet hooked her arms around her friend's waist while Nagisa smacked her with her pillow, the two of them laughing and screeching. They tusseled for a moment on the bed before Tamao had Nagisa suitably beaten into submission. The poet sat upon the redhead's waist, pinning her hands down on the mattress.
"Let's try this again," Tamao purred. "How do you say 'cute' in French?"
"I honest-to-God don't know, Tamao-chan!" Nagisa insisted. "Please get off me!"
"I will...if you could at least tell me how girls greet each other in France."
"Tamao!"
"Hint: It's not a handshake."
"You're so mean! I don't know, okay?" Wow, our faces are really close, she realized. Then she had the answer. "Oh, yeah. They kiss on the cheek."
"That's right." Tamao brought her face closer.
"Great...Umm...Can you get off me, now? You promised..." A small, choked gasp escaped her lips as Tamao roughly kissed her cheeks twice. It wasn't that chaste greeting peck, either, but a warm, wet smooch. Nagisa was then aware of how long it had been since anyone kissed her like that. Shizuma was away at college most of the time. When they did see each other, all the former Étoile was interested in doing was making out. Was it just Nagisa, or was the cheek-kiss underestimated?
"Remember this for next time," the poet sighed, getting off Nagisa, "but you, um, have to kiss back. It's sorta antisocial to not do so."
"H-hai." The redhead was blushing profusely, her garnet eyes fixed on Tamao.
Tamao smiled at Nagisa, causing her to blush more deeply. Nagisa managed a watery grin, but her head felt ready to explode. Her heart was arrythmic. Her stomach was doing jumping jacks. She'd never had Tamao that close to her, in such a vulnerable position...
The moment was spoiled by Nagisa's cell phone ringing. Tamao already knew who it would be, and that brought her back to reality. Idiot, she told herself. The only way you'd ever get to kiss her is in greeting...and there's only so many times I can take advantage of that before I become too obvious...
"Moshimoshi," Nagisa sighed.
"Yay, I finally got through to you." Despite the message, Shizuma sounded far from happy. "What were you up to? Being disgusted in me? Praising that stupid Smurf-head for being so 'smart' and 'nice'?"
Nagisa bristled. "As a matter of fact, I was! She was...erm...uh, giving me a lesson in French." Yeah, we'll say that...
"How is Paris, by the way?"
"Horrible, but I guess I'm having fun."
"Having fun? Having fun with whom?"
"Who else would I have fun with?" Then it hit Nagisa like a ton of lead. "Oh my God. You think I'm cheating on you?"
Tamao looked up sharply from her book.
Shizuma didn't respond.
"Sh-Shizuma-sama, I would never—"
"What do you see in her anyways?" Shizuma asked.
"Who?"
"Don't make me say her name...her...Suzumi..."
Nagisa glanced anxiously at Tamao. "I-I don't see anything in her. She's a friend."
"What kind of friend?"
"Wh-wha...This is ridiculous!"
"Hm, I already know. She's 'smart.' She's 'nice.' Really great qualities in a girlfriend," the former Étoile snorted.
Nagisa could've gone on to deny her relationship status with Tamao, but Shizuma didn't seem to believe her. So she responded, "They're better qualities than being domineering, untrusting, and accusatory...not to mention a raging alcoholic!"
The redhead caught Tamao pressing her book to her reddening face. The poet was shaking. She was laughing.
"I know Suzumi's type. She preys on girls like you," Shizuma growled.
"Girls like me?"
"Airheaded romantics. You're too easy."
"Yeah, and that's why she cornered me to kiss me every opportunity she got?" Nagisa snapped sarcastically. "You're the one who preyed on me!"
"God, she's got you hypnotized..." Shizuma sighed. "Fine. You're a lost cause. And I don't care, because this really hot girl just walked past me, and I don't want to pass up the opportunity to 'prey on her.'" And she hung up.
Her eyes wide, Nagisa let her cell phone drop from her hand. It landed on the carpeted floor with a soft thunk! Tamao leaned past Nagisa, her breasts brushing unintentionally, but provacatively nonetheless, against the redhead's thighs. She held the phone out to Nagisa, but the redhead didn't take it. So it was really over. Nagisa knew most girls would cry and grieve over a situation like this. The redhead didn't feel the urge to do this, though she felt like she should.
Tamao immediately knew what had happened, and sensed her friend's sadness. She leaned forward and gently pulled Nagisa into a warm hug. They'd stayed like that for half an hour, Nagisa sobbing like a baby out of social obligation. Tamao just held her without looking at her or speaking to her. And, Nagisa realized, that was just what she needed right now.
---
The next day found Tamao, Nagisa, Bridget, and Molly at the local supermarket. Bridget was looking for ingredients for that night's dinner. After a verbal bordering on physical conflict, she and Chihaya agreed to take turns making dinner.
Molly turned to Nagisa. "Have you been looking up your nouns as I instructed?"
"Yep," the redhead nodded.
"Great." Molly smirked, her blue eyes gleaming mischievously. "Then you get to pay for the groceries!" She passed Nagisa the basket.
"You're mean, Molly-chan."
"Oh, I know it..."
The three of them watched as the French neophyte stepped forward to pay for the food. The cashier looked at Nagisa and said, "Bonjour, mademoiselle. Ça va?"
"Witch doctor!" Nagisa responded brightly.
Molly groaned. The cashier stared at the redhead in horror. Nagisa, in turn, frowned, knowing she'd done something wrong. She tried again.
"Typewriter?...Soap?..."
lolz I loved writing this.
NEXT CHAPTER: Nagisa struggles to socialize with the French. And who comes knock-knock-knocking on their apartment door...? In chapitre cinq: l'idiote de village. ("The Village Idiot.")