A/N: Ehehehe...Sorry this is so late, I was too busy with Christmas and an art project, plus, I just so happen to be one of the unfortunate people using AOL. Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed.

A bit of Ry rant: Gah! Gah, I tell you! What kind of a world we are living in if one can't even find a _good_ map of one of the most famous cities? I've been trying to find a detailed map of Arles for a while now, and what do I find? Van Gogh! *walks away grumbling*

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Chapter 3: Merengue

I stood in line at the local grocery shop, irritably tapping my foot and clutching my carrier closer to my side, shielding the contents from prying eyes. I can almost swear that the mammoth lady in front of me is eyeing the Chocolate Chip ice cream in my basket. I've always had a weakness for sweets; one of these days they are going to be my downfall. I reached the cashier, placing the produce in front of her and taking out my wallet. She looked at me in boredom, bursting a gum bubble and lazily began counting off the costs. Couldn't she move faster? Some people had places to be and dinner to prepare.

"That'll be $34.94, Monsieur," she managed to drone out between chews of her strawberry gum.

I forked out the money and grumbled out a polite sounding 'thank you' before heading outside with my food. Hmph! People these days! 'Customers always come first' my rear end! It was harder and harder to find competent service. Soon my head will be bitten off because I decided to buy 50% off pork leg and used a check to pay!

When I got to my apartment, I wasn't in a good mood, to say the least. I got mud splashed on my new jeans and I think I dropped one or two apples as I was turning a corner. After disposing of my coat and scarf, I moved to my small kitchen. I sorted out the groceries and fed Spinel Sun some Swiss cheese (I swear, that cat has the most peculiar tastes). I was in the middle of taking out pans and various ingredients when a flashing light on my answering machine caught my eye. Shrugging, I pressed the 'play' button and continued in my preparations for dinner.

'Leave a message at the tone...'

'Hiiragizawa, (that was my boss' voice) I've read the report you left in my secretary's charge. I have to say, I'm very disappointed –'

I snorted softly. "I'm sure you are, old fart."

'– I expected much better from my best employee. Seriously, if you cannot commit yourself to this job, I would have to let you go. There is simply no room for inefficient workers in today's business.'

I almost dropped the carton of milk I was holding and growled deeply in my throat. Who was he to call me "inefficient"? A large share of the company's – and the world's – troubles were because of bosses like him. It was power hungry vultures like him that made today's market a perpetual war zone. And I wouldn't have turned in such a lousy report if he had given me more ground rules.

'I have scheduled another interview with Ms. Daidouji. You have better not blows out this chance, Hiiragizawa, it's the only one you have left. The interview session is this Wednesday at 4:30pm in the local plaza. Hope you have a nice evening.'

I walked brusquely to the machine and pressed the 'erase' button before the message could repeat itself. Walking back to the kitchen counter, I began slicing green pepper and onions, while the answering machine from Hell ground out the next message.

'Eriol-chaaaaan!'

I winced, both from the squeal-y voice and the cut I just enforced upon my finger. The message was from my cousin, Nakuru Akizuki. We were really close when I was growing up, mainly because I was left in her care when both my parents died in a car accident, now she lives in Japan while I am here, in Arles. Even though I am officially an adult, she still treats me like a diaper-wearing three-year-old. I feel smothered at times – quite literally, given the strength of her hugs – but I appreciate her effort. Sighing, I opted to listen to the message instead of running toward the 'skip' button.

'Oh I miss you! I miss you sooo much! Yes I do! You have no idea how hard it is living all alone and without my sweet-oh Eriol-chan. Say 'hi' to Suppi-chan (a nickname she gave to Spinel Sun). How is Syao-kun and Sakura-chan doing? Still pining for each other? They'll never change, and if they do then take out your army helmet 'cause Armageddon is upon us!.. Anou... I wanted to know when you could visit me. Soon? Great! Come here in February! – '

It was just like her; dragging me somewhere without asking me about it. At least she intended well, even if it offered painful consequences for me.

'–Oh, and don't forget: I want to see a wedding ring attached to some pretty girl's finger. I want to see you married before I'm thirty, and I want to see little nieces and nephews running around. And if you don't comply, I'll drag you down to Vegas and marry you off to the first broad I see. Kiss Sakura-chan for me and don't strain yourself from work! I'll call you next week. Ja ne!'

I glared at the flashing read light of the machine. Typical; overprotective cousins demanding I marry and have kids so they would feel younger. I shivered at her threat, knowing perfectly well that she would do that, at the very least. The prospect of settling down was not appealing at this moment. I have always been an independent person, and tying myself down to somebody wasn't on my 'top priority' list.

I was mixing up salad dressing when the next message began to play, from the Diva this time. I snorted into the bits of lettuce and olives upon hearing her voice. She seemed rushed and almost breathless. She asked to move the interview to tomorrow evening at the dance studio, due to some last minute scheduling. Sighing, I made a mental note to cancel all evening appointments for tomorrow.

The last message was from Syaoran. He invited me to another party, requesting that I bring a date along. Heh. The guy doesn't even have enough guts to ask the girl he likes to date and here he is, commenting on my love life! Now this has got to be a conspiracy or something. It's either that everyone wants to see me drop dead on my spot or send me off to the priest with a bride hanging off my arm. I don't need a spouse, I don't need a lifelong partner, and I don't want one either. Sigh. I give up. Abandoning the salad, I took out the ice cream I bought today and headed for the den. At least chocolate is consistent, it never gives me lectures on my love life.

Next evening, I found myself in front of an ancient looking building down in the Blvd. des Lices district, close to the park. I heard a faint melody wafting from the inside, piquing my curiosity and dread. I opened one of the massive doors – they were really heavy – and walked inside. The foyer was empty, as was the waiting room and the corridors. I followed the melody, wincing slightly at how loud my footsteps were against the pristine tiles. I stopped at the end of the hall, where a faint light was emanating underneath the door and where the music also appeared louder. Inhaling one last breath, I braved to open the door.

At first I saw only an expanse of hardwood floor and mirror, then a fluid movement caught my eye. It was Daidouji-san, though now she appeared even more ethereal than at our first meeting. She moved with a certain grace, her small feet and long hair in perfect harmony with the beat of the music – a soft, lilting melody; it was both real and otherworldly. Something that captivated me, yet repelled me at the same time. I felt some primal instinct gnaw itself upon my gut (much to my displeasure), forcing my eyes to stare and my mind to go blank. She seemed almost in a trance, eyes closed and lips slightly parted, letting the rhythm guide her. After a while of just watching her, I realized (with no small amount of surprise) that I could see the lines, the transition between one position to another. Yet it was more than that. It was truly magical, or as close to magic as it came without wizards and spells.

The crescendo increased, as did the swaying of her hips and movement of her arms. The music slowly died down but I remained rooted to my spot, still entranced with her lithe figure pirouetting here and there before stopping. Minutes trickled by, and before I could realise, Daidouji-san was heading my way with a smile on her face.

"Hi. I guess practice went for longer than I expected. I'm sorry I made you wait," she said while wiping off tiny beads of sweat from her forehead.

The performance left me breathless and light-headed; it's as if I came to an epiphany without quite understanding what it was just yet. But I wasn't going to tell her that. Nor would I tell her that I did not mind seeing her doing something so sensual and captivating, because, in fact, I very much liked it. "No problem. What were you dancing?"

She glanced up at me from the bench where she was digging out a water bottle form a knap sack on the floor. Strange, how come I didn't notice those when I came in?

"Oh, that was just a bit of free-styling," she replied continuing with her task. "Sometimes I just let the rhythm of the melody take me and guide me. Do you ever do that Mr. Hiiragizawa?" She removed the white sash around her slender hips, completely exposing the black leotard she wore, and donned on a pair of loose jeans and a polo shirt.

I felt a small blush creep into my cheeks, and I stubbornly pushed the feeling back. "You can just call me Eriol. And no, I've never done that; I don't dance."

She stifled a bout of giggles with her hand and looked up to me again, her eyes sparkling mischievously. "That's not what I meant..um..Eriol. I mean, do you ever just let yourself go? Surrender yourself to something so wholly that you are not aware of either time or place, nor that you are creating something beautiful?"

Her question took me aback; I had not expected her to ask me something so deep. I was just trying to make light of the situation, to get rid of the mental image of her suspended in motion and so divine looking. "No, I haven't. Not to my knowledge."

She looked at me for a long moment, her eyes piercing mine. I felt the heat creep back to my cheeks and I mentally cursed my fair complexion. Looking at her looking at me like that was just a little bit unnerving.

"We must get on with the interview, Ms. Daidouji," my voice broke the silence and the momentary spell.

"Yes, you're right. Come to my apartment where I can at least offer you some tea for your effort," she replied, exiting the room and heading toward outside. She paused in her progress, putting on her coat, and said, "Oh, and it's Tomoyo."

Tomoyo, huh? Plum Blossoms. A fitting name for someone as delicate as her. I smirked to myself and followed her to her car. "So the Diva has a name, and its Tomoyo."

"Did you say something?" she called out across the parking lot, where she was unlocking her Sedan.

"I was just thinking that it might snow tonight."

"Then you better hurry up; wouldn't want you to face the wrath of Father Winter, do I?"

As I sat in the Div – Tomoyo's car and stared out into the rapidly darkening streets, I wondered about what she said. Let myself be? How would I do that with all the responsibilities hanging on my shoulders. I don't have time nor the patience to just "let go"; there is too much at stake and I am not in any way willing to sacrifice all that. Besides, what did she know. She did not have priorities and responsibilities, only art. She didn't know what it was to struggle through school alone because there was no one in the world to call your family. She was an epitome of the artist – living, breathing art, unaware of all the troubles in the world.

"You have a Japanese name," she said out of the blue, breaking the silence and my reverie, "how come?"

"I'm half Japanese. My mother was Japanese; my father was from England," I replied still looking at the passing street lamps and the people who braved the cold to go outside.

"How come you live all the way here?"

I glanced at her profile and shrugged. "The history of this city, I guess."

I saw a real smile cross her lips, and I wondered at the gesture. "That's why I stayed here after my mother died. I love this city, I love the history, the romance. It pulls you, you know? Draws you and then you can't leave it behind."

I nodded absentmindedly, stealing another glance at Tomoyo, before returning to watch the road. So she lost someone, too. Now I feel even guiltier than at our first meeting. I'll need to make a mental note to stop judging people on their appearances. This sure was one whopper of a second impression though, and, knowing that there would be more meetings to come (though why, I have no idea), I'm definitely looking forward to the next one.

(tbc)

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