Chapter four, oh yay! Update's a bit later than my "once a week" plan, but I got busy (and lazy). Heh.
Review replies:
guavawolf: Hey! I love cracking eggs too! And as a kid, I would always try to get my Dad to quit smoking. So I guess all these little memories and quirks of mine got added into this story. I'm glad you liked it!
HLTY: I don't really understand your review, sorry... but anyhow, I'm glad that you're enjoying my story! Is the flour REALLY miracle powder, though? ;)
Light-of-Hope-07: There we have it, the cake-eating chapter! But don't be so sure that the "Miracle Powder" will work. After all, it's just flour, isn't it? Heh.
Aster Selene: Ooooh! Okay, I'll admift it – I totally forgot about the milk bit from chapter one! Terrible, I know. But never mind, I shall fix it up in this chapter! Anyway, Takeru doesn't really believe the Powder is "Miracle Powder" (he has that wild hope at the back of his mind, but common sense tells him otherwise) – he's leaning more towards what the old man said, that it's just flour. After all, he always had the notion that Mike's a big scammer from the start. So that's why he's going ahead to use it for the cake, even though Mike told him you're not allowed to drink milk with it.
Anyway, thanks for pointing it out!
Also thanks to PrincessJaded and Blazing Chaos... I love reviews!
21st May, Friday
The dismissal bell rang at one-thirty p.m. sharp and the entire class filed out at once. Takeru's last class on Friday was Mathematics – a real bore, and a real sleep inducer if the weather was extra warm. Daisuke, Hikari and Takeru left the classroom together, stretching and yawning.
"That was a terrible lesson," Hikari sighed, lowering her voice as their teacher walked past them briskly. "I don't think I understood any of that!"
"At least it's Friday!" Daisuke beamed. It was impossible to upset him on a Friday, what with the Wondrous Weekend just around the corner. "No school for the next two days!"
Takeru grinned at Daisuke's infectious enthusiasm – he always said the same thing on Fridays, without fail. "I'm not going to be going the same way as you guys today," he told the other two. "I'm going to go to the mall for a bit."
"What for?" Hikari asked.
"I want to get my Dad a birthday card," Takeru explained. "Tomorrow's the celebration, and what's a birthday without a card?"
"As long as there's a big delicious cake, it's good enough for me," Daisuke sniffed. "Who needs some fancy store-bought card?"
"We'll keep that in mind when your birthday comes!" Hikari teased. Daisuke stuck out his tongue at her childishly.
They left the school building. Takeru bid his two friends goodbye as they went their separate ways. He had texted Yamato earlier on, telling him that he was going to get a birthday card, and Yamato had told him to go ahead. Takeru rarely bought birthday cards. Usually when one of the Chosen Children's birthdays came around, the whole gang would pitch in to buy one of those huge birthday cards. Most of the time, the girls did the choosing; Takeru had never helped in choosing the card before – he had only helped in choosing the gift itself. He remembered the gigantic bear-shaped card he had received for his last birthday and smiled to himself. It was cute, but this sort of things was definitely not suitable for his father. He could just imagine his father's shocked response: "But where would I put this?"
He soon reached the shopping mall. The large, multi-storey building seemed to glisten in the sun, giving it a sparkly, almost glittery appearance. That was the effect of having almost the entire mall built in glass. Takeru entered the building, smiling in relief as the coolness of the air-conditioner washed over him. The heat outside had been most difficult to endure. Even with his hat on, Takeru could still feel the burning heat on his head.
He wandered around the first storey. The first level consisted mainly of restaurants and eateries, and Takeru ended up succumbing to the tempation of a delicious-looking piece of red bean bun. Munching on it happily, he headed to the escalator.
"Hello, my dear child."
The voice was so close to Takeru's ear that he jumped slightly. Turning around, he saw an extremely familiar-looking man standing behind him, eyes twinkling merrily behind thick glasses. It was Mike!
"Hi," Takeru replied, a little shortly. Yes, he had pitied Mike and everything, but he didn't feel like getting too chatty with a swindler.
"How has the Miracle Powder been doing?" Mike smiled at him. "Have you tried it out yet?"
"Yeah, I have," Takeru said casually. He stepped onto the escalator, and Mike, annoyingly enough, followed him. "I brought it to the baking shop, and the guy there told me it's really flour!"
Mike's eyes widened, and he stared at Takeru for a few seconds. Then, recovering himself, he said composedly, "Then I am afraid he's wrong. That Powder is Miracle Powder, my boy. Trust me – I'm the vendor, after all."
Mike's short moment of discomfit had been enough to convince Takeru that he was no doubt a cheat. "Well, I used the Powder to bake a cake," Takeru told Mike, "so we'll find out soon enough if it really is Miracle Powder! If it works, I'll be sure to tell you." He beamed at Mike.
Mike stared at him for a minute, face blank. "You used it in a cake?"
Takeru nodded.
"Did you use milk?"
"Of course I did!" Takeru laughed. "I baked a cake, for goodness' sake! Of course I had to use milk!"
Mike glared at Takeru. "This is serious, boy! Don't you remember what I told you?! You must not mix this Powder with milk! Never, or it will lose its effect! It will no longer create miracles!"
"But I have already done it," Takeru answered, staring wide-eyed at Mike. "What's going to happen now?"
"Well..." Mike hesitated for a moment, apparently deep in thought. "You should be thankful that there'll be no harmful effects. The Powder will just act like ordinary flour. However, all its magical effects are gone."
Takeru resisted the urge to let out an incredulous laugh. What an excuse, huh? He thought scathingly. This whole "milk" thing is just Mike's way of pretending that that bottle of ordinary flour is actually Miracle Powder! How gullible does he think I am?
"Well, it's alright, really," Takeru told Mike. "I just needed a cake, not a miracle, and the Powder did the job nicely. The cake turned out wonderful, too."
Mike gazed at him for a moment. "You will never get to see its true effects, though," he murmured. "Well..." Suddenly sounding much more business-like, he straightened up and gave Takeru his most sincere look. "It would be most unfortunate if you never got to experience the joys of using the Miracle Powder! Fortunately for you, I still have some of my stock available. Would you like to purchase another bottle? I –"
"Oh, no thanks," Takeru answered quickly, trying to hide his annoyance. The nerve of this guy to try and swindle him a second time! Had he no shame? "I'm in a rush right now," Takeru told him.
Mike seemed to get the hint. "I'm sure we'll meet again soon, my dear child," he said sorrowfully. "You know where my stall is – fate will bring you there. Well, I shall disturb you no further. Goodbye."
He bowed rather dramatically, turned with a swish of his cloak, and vanished into the crowd.
Takeru shook his head as he headed toward a gift shop. He couldn't stand people like Mike – taking advantage of a person's hopes and dreams all because he wanted to make some quick money. People like that shouldn't exist, he thought with a sudden rush of fierceness. Deep inside he knew that he had secretly wondered, rather hopefully, if the Miracle Powder really was real, and now he felt extra foolish for it. Yes, he hadn't allowed himself to be fooled, but if he had been any more gullible, he probably would have had. And then what would he have used it for? An image of the photograph that had been found in the chest of drawers floated into his mind, and he blocked it out quickly. Well, at least I didn't fall for the trick, and I even put the flour to good use, Takeru told himself. That's what matters.
22nd May, Saturday
Takeru pressed hard on the doorbell for what seemed to be the hundredth time that week.
Ding Dong!
Yamato answered the door almost immediately. Takeru beamed up at him, a large paper bag in his hands.
"I'm glad I don't have to sit outside for twenty minutes this time round!" He said cheerfully as Yamato stepped back to let him in.
Yamato rolled his eyes. "Someone sure can bear a grudge, huh?" He peered into the paper bag, which Takeru had just placed on the kitchen table. "What's in there?"
"The cake, and I got the card as well." Takeru replied, pulling the card out. It was a light shade of blue, with a simple but elegant picture of a birthday cake on the front. On the top were silver words, written in cursive: Happy 45th.
"Do you want to write something in it?" Takeru asked his brother, holding out the card.
"Oh, sure," Yamato answered cheerily. He went over to the refrigerator and felt around the top of it, Takeru watching on in bemusement. He soon returned to the table with a dust-covered pen.
"We usually keep some stationery there, in case we need to note down something urgent," Yamato explained.
"Ah," Takeru grinned. His brother shook off the dust and bent over the card. "Since you probably didn't write it on the cake, I'll write it on the card!" He then scrawled a large "DEAR DAD, HAPPY BIRTHDAY! YOU'RE 45 NOW AND TOO OLD TO SMOKE. LOVE, YAMATO."
Takeru blinked at the short (but not so sweet) message.
"I say it to him every year, so why break the tradition?" Yamato said, smirking slightly. "What did you write?"
Takeru's note was right below Yamato's – "DEAR DAD, HAPPY 45TH BIRTHDAY! I HOPE YOU LIKE THE CAKE. WE MADE IT ALL BY OURSELVES! TAKE CARE AND DON'T STRESS TOO MUCH OVER WORK. BIRTHDAYS SHOULD NEVER BE MISSED! LOVE, TAKERU."
"Perfect," Yamato said, smiling slightly. He picked up the light blue envelope that had came along with the card and put the card inside it.
"I've got the shirts in my room," Yamato told Takeru as he straightened up. "I'll go get them while you take out the cake, alright?"
Takeru nodded. As his brother left the room, he reached into the bag and carefully took out the large container Yamato had given him to store the cake earlier.
He had used some his mother's butter and chocolate icing. He had tasted a bit of them at first and found them yummy – but then, he had always been a fan of all things creamy. With a bit of guidance from his mother, who taught him how to squeeze out the icing from the tube, he had managed to form the words HAPPY BIRTHDAY DAD on the cake, alternating the alphabets in brown and yellow.
It looked pretty good, for a first-time attempt. Takeru looked at the cake proudly, then suddenly remembered the candles. He reached into the box again and pulled out a small plastic bag – in it were four large candles and five tiny ones.
He was just taking the candles out of their packaging when Yamato returned, holding a white plastic bag.
"Nice!" Yamato said approvingly upon seeing the cake. "Who knew brown and yellow could go so well together?"
"I'd have thought not, the last time I saw you wearing that brown cap," Takeru joked, thinking back to the rather hilarious incident about two years ago.
"For the last time, my hair is blonde, not yellow!" Yamato scowled. "Anyway," he added, "Here are the shirts. I bought two – here you go." He tossed the bag over to Takeru.
Takeru caught it deftly and pulled out its contents. The first shirt was a short-sleeved, buttoned-up one, dark and light blue vertical lines over a white background. The second shirt was a green-coloured polo tee.
"They're not bad!" Takeru said cheerfully. He knew nothing much about clothes, but these did look pretty good. Besides, Yamato was quite trendy – he knew that Taichi and Daisuke had both gone to him for clothing advice on how to impress girls (and you thought that was something only girls did!) – so he trusted his brother's taste.
"Of course they're good," Yamato grinned. Takeru folded the clothes rather clumsily and put them back into the bag.
Yamato checked his watch. "Dad will probably be beck in forty minutes. You'll light the candles and hide in the kitchen while I lead him in here for the surprise, okay? He won't be expecting you."
Takeru nodded in agreement. "So, what do we do now?"
"I'll just heat up our lunch first," Yamato said, remembering suddenly. He crossed over to the refrigerator and took out a dish of chicken casserole. "Dad's favourite!"
"I never knew Dad like chicken casserole!" Takeru said in surprise.
Yamato glanced over at him. "You don't? He requests it for dinner almost every week," he chuckled as he placed the dish in the oven. "Drives me crazy sometimes."
I hardly know anything about my father, really, Takeru thought. Until today, he hadn't even known his father's favourite cake, or favourite dish! In fact, did he even know his mother's? An unexplainable flash of panic surged through him as he tried to remember – well, she was rather partial to pork chops, so that was probably it. Oh, yes, she loved prawns, too. Takeru sighed in relief, then felt extremely silly.
It's good that I'm starting to know more things about dad, then, Takeru told himself. I hardly see him at all, only a couple of times a year – it's no surprise that I don't know as much about him as nii-san does.
The casserole sat proudly on the table, faint swirls of smoke rising from it, and next to it was the "masterpiece", as Takeru called it – the strawberry cake, unlit candles already atop it. Half an hour had passed, and the two brothers were engaged in a deep, meaningful conversation – that is, arguing over which video game was the best.
The sound of the key turning in the lock made them both jump. They stared at each other, and Takeru could see that Yamato was trying not to smile. It wasn't like them to be so childish and silly, really.
"Light the candles now," Yamato whispered before leaving the room hurriedly. Takeru grabbed the lighter that was lying next to the cake (taken from his father's study desk) and quickly lit all the candles. He could hear their voices nearing.
"How was work today, Dad?"
"Same old thing," His father's familiar, gruff voice answered. "I received a few birthday cards, though; I'm surprised they actually remembered." A slight pause. "Hey, do I smell chicken casserole? And is that...?"
"Your favourite dish, just for your birthday!" Yamato replied.
The two appeared at the kitchen doorway, and Takeru leapt up at once.
"Hi Dad!" He grinned. "Happy birthday!"
Hiroaki Ishida looked absolutely astonished for a moment at the sight of his youngest son. Then, his face broke into a wide smile.
"Thanks, son," he said, looking slightly touched. "It's been quite awhile, hasn't it?"
"We got you this," Yamato said, picking up the bag with the shirts. "I figured it's time that you got some new clothes."
Hiroaki chuckled as he took the bag from Yamato. "Are you saying that my clothes are too old, son?"
"The one you're wearing right now has a hole in its pocket," Yamato pointed out. Hiroaki looked down in surprise.
"I never did notice it!" He said.
Yamato rolled his eyes, smiling slightly. Takeru picked up the birthday card and held it out to his father.
"What's that?" Hiroaki blinked.
"A birthday card, Dad!" Yamato exclaimed. "Seriously, I think I should start giving you cards every week now if you can't even recognize that!"
Hiroaki beamed at both of them as he took the card – Takeru couldn't remember the last time he had seen his father so happy. As their father made his way over to the kitchen table Yamato turned and grinned at Takeru, and he knew that his brother felt the same way.
"You guys got a cake for me, too?" Hiroaki turned to the pair. "It has been ages since I've had a proper birthday cake. Years, in fact..."
"It's your favourite – strawberry," Takeru told him. "And the candles are melting! Make a wish and blow them out."
Hiroaki smiled, evidently unused to this type of birthday celebration. He closed his eyes hesitantly and silently made his wish, before opening them and blowing out the candles.
"Happy birthday!" Yamato and Takeru said, clapping.
"What did you wish for?" Yamato asked.
Hiroaki laughed. "What's that saying? Oh – if you say out your wish, it won't come true. I'm keeping it to myself."
Takeru picked up the knife which Yamato had laid out earlier. "The birthday boy – er, man, has to cut the cake!"
Hiroaki took the knife, still smiling. He bent over, removed the candles, and gently sliced the cake down the middle.
"It smells fantastic," Takeru said, breathing in deeply.
"I've never had strawberry cake for a long time," Hiroaki remarked as he began slicing the cake. "In fact, the last time was..." His voice trailed off, and the two brothers exchanged glances. "Anyway, this looks as good as anything I've ever tasted. Where did you buy it from?"
Takeru looked gleefully at Yamato. He thinks our cake is as good as a store-bought cake! Yamato, on the other hand, looked a little insulted.
"This is better than any store-bought cake, Dad," he said. "We made it ourselves!"
"You made – ?" Hiroaki stared at the pair in disbelief. They stared back at him innocently. "Wow." He smiled. "The Ishida sons are of many talents, aren't they?"
Make that the Ishida son AND the Takaishi son, Takeru couldn't help thinking.
"When did you bake the cake?" Hiroaki asked as they took out plates and utensils.
"One of the nights when you were working late," Yamato replied. He dished out the slices, handing the biggest piece over to his father.
"Right under my nose and I never noticed it," Hiroaki said, shaking his head. "Well... let's dig in, then!" He cut off a chunk of cake with his fork and popped it into his mouth. Takeru and Yamato watched him expectantly.
He chewed for a while, his face expressionless. Then, noticing that they were starting to look quite anxious, he smiled broadly. "It tastes great – just like the last time I had strawberry cake."
The pair beamed, but Takeru felt oddly sad - for he knew when was the last time his father had eaten his favourite cake, and he knew all too well who had baked it for him. Even after all these years, his father could still remember the taste of it. The taste of his favourite cake, baked by somebody he had been so close to.
It sounded like something from a sappy drama series. It sounded like... love.
Not wanting to be bothered by such thoughts on a happy occasion, Takeru cut off a piece of his own slice and ate it. It was delicious. The cake was soft and moist, and the strawberry flavour was just right. The icing went well with the cake, too. It was undoubtedly a success.
They had the chicken casserole after the cake. That was good, too, and Takeru couldn't help admiring Yamato's cooking skills. Hiroaki seemed to enjoy everything thoroughly, and shared with them many amusing stories from his work. The last time Takeru had stayed over, he hadn't talked to his father much – but this time round, he was talking to his father more than he had ever really done in his life. It made him feel closer to his father, but at the same time, he sensed the wide bridge between the two of them. There were so many things that they didn't know about each other, so many things that they were only just finding out now. He didn't know that his father had been promoted; his father didn't know that he had started volunteering at the Animal Welfare Centre with Hikari every week for a couple of months now.
There was a contented silence at the end of the meal. Hiroaki leaned back against his chair, satisfied. Takeru had never thought that he'd be so happy to see an empty cake dish. The three of them had finished one entire cake – imagine that!
"What plans do you boys have for today?" Hiroaki asked.
"Nothing much," Yamato said, shrugging. "I guess Takeru and I will just hang around... we could play video games, I guess."
"Do you want to play, too?" Takeru asked. "We could teach you."
Hiroaki laughed. "Teach? You don't know how many times I've beat Yamato at – what's that name again?"
Takeru stared at him in amazement. "Wow," he said, turning to a rather embarrassed (and annoyed) Yamato. "Dad beat you at some game that he doesn't even know the title of?"
"I do work with technology, after all," Hiroaki commented.
"Well, I'm not going to lose this time round!" Yamato declared, standing up. "Come on, let's get started. We can take turns playing."
"You guys go first – this I want to see." Takeru said. He had never known that his father was a video game-expert! "I'll soak the dishes while you set up."
"Thanks, little bro," Yamato replied cheerfully as he left the room. Takeru picked up the empty dishes and headed over to the sink. His father remained in his seat, and Takeru felt just a little awkward. He couldn't remember the last time the two of them had been alone in a room together.
"You've grown so much, Takeru," Hiroaki said gruffly. "You must be a good few inches taller than the last time I've seen you."
Takeru smiled slightly as he turned on the tap. "You've grown quite a bit too, Dad." He said teasingly.
Hiroaki chuckled. There was a short silence, then he spoke again, his voice quieter.
"You and your mother are coping well, then?"
Takeru felt his breathe catch slightly and the forks he was holding nearly slipped out of his hands. He turned to look at his father. Hiroaki was looking at him rather seriously, his expression sad. Takeru smiled at him.
"We're doing really well," he told him.
"I've always been worried about you and Yamato. It's not easy, I know, being separated like this." Hiroaki continued softly.
This was the first time Hiroaki had ever talked about the divorce to Takeru. It felt strange, and Takeru knew that this was a moment he would always remember - the very first time he had such a conversation with his father. His mother had tried talking to him about it before, but Takeru had simply assured her that he was fine with it. Hiroaki, on the other hand, had always been more tight-lipped about it, not wanting to rake up the past. Takeru wondered if he and Yamato had ever talked about it before. Maybe the closeness they now felt after the celebration had prompted Hiroaki to say something. Or perhaps, like Takeru, he had been thinking about it for quite a while now.
"But it seems that the two of you have handled it really well." He stood up and smiled at his son. "I must say, after seeing what the two of you have done for me today, how close you both are..." He walked over to Takeru and clapped him on his shoulder. "I'm proud of you."
Takeru smiled at him, feeling, to his embarrassment and horror, tears at the back of his eyes. "Thanks, Dad." He whispered, blinking them away.
"I'll go and see what Yamato's up to." Hiroaki said. Takeru nodded and watched as his father left the kitchen.
Everyone thought that Takeru was fine with the divorce. They – his parents, his friends – all thought that Takeru had coped really well with it, that he was a strong individual. Takeru knew why - he had always said that he was fine with it, that he was "doing really well". It had become the standard answer from him whenever anyone close to him wanted to ask him about it, which of late had become pretty often - because after all, wasn't he at that precarious age, when all the teenage problems begin to mount and one becomes much more aware of how different he is from his peers? Takeru hadn't wanted anyone to worry, and had used the same reply so often that he had begun to believe that he was fine, even. He had always thought that his brother had been far more affected than him, but ever since the encounter with BelialVamdemon, he wasn't so sure.
Was his deepest desire really the impossible? Had he been placing his hopes, all along, on something that would never happen?
Takeru rubbed his eyes quickly and splashed his face with some water. It was best not to think so much about it, he decided. He would go play some video games and forget about all his troubles. Wiping his face with the back of his hand, he hastily left the kitchen.
TBC
Well, nothing much to say, except... I found it hard to make everyone in character in this chapter, so I hope I did okay. Please review!
Wish In A Bottle: A Digimon Fanfiction
Chapter Four