Disclaimer: I'm only using FoR and its characters for the fun of it! It doesn't belong to me.
A Cup of Tea
Chapter 8
Tokiya ignored the slight disappointment coming from the interruption. Then again, maybe it was better if he got her to talk while eating. She might feel more comfortable then.
"So do you want to move in the dining room?"
Fuuko looked up to see his somewhat strained features, and then her gaze trailed down to the steaming plate of lasagna held by his hands covered with… mitts… pink-flowery-oven mitts. And with frilly apron to match.
She opened her mouth to answer something intelligible, but nothing came out. But who could blame her? She was seeing Tokiya Mikagami in a PINK FRILLY APRON with PINK FLOWER OVEN MITTS holding a pan of lasagna. And add that to the fact that he just BAKED A CHOCOLATE CAKE a few hours back. A chocolate cake that happened to be very, very good…
Was she really seeing this?
"Fuuko, if you don't mind, I'd like to take these things off now, as much as you seem to be enjoying staring at them," he said in a dry manner, obviously motioning to his choice in kitchen apparel.
"Oh, um," she snapped out of her trance. "The kitchen's just fine, Mi-chan."
Quite frankly, the only place inside his house that made her feel comfortable was his kitchen. She remembered what the dining room was like when she passed by it, and it was every inch the austere and imposing hall that it was, with the long mahogany table and the chandelier towering above. The kitchen, unlike the other parts of the house, seemed more like a home to her. She silently wondered if Tokiya really did decorate this place. And if so, why did he leave the kitchen so different from the others?
He placed the lasagna on the table. "Very well then." He took off the ludicrous garments and took the seat across her. "Now can we get down to business?"
Fuuko nodded. "But before we begin," she took two cans of beer, tossed one to him and pulled the tab on her own. "A toast!"
Mikagami looked down at the can before opening it as well. "For what?"
"Er, I don't know…" she scratched the back of her neck. "But we'll think of something later. Let's just toast, okay?"
He shrugged and let both their cans of beer come to contact with a resounding clang. Fuuko grinned and took a swig from her can afterwards. He watched in amazement as the girl continuously gulped the alcohol without even taking a breath. Surely his tea wasn't that vile tasting that she needed immediate remedy this badly?
Halfway through the can, Fuuko pulled up from for breath and wiped her mouth with the sleeve of her kimono. The sight of it was pretty farcical, he had to admit.
"Now we can get down to business!" she declared.
She can't be drunk with half a can of beer, right?
An even larger smile graced Fuuko's features as she took a bite from the lasagna. "Mmm, good!"
He visibly disregarded the loud, nettling sounds coming from the obviously famished girl. And he thought she'd be full after wiping out the whole cake… Apparently, to be a good host before Fuuko Kirisawa means to allot quite an amount of money to spend on her food. What if the girl with the bottomless pit isn't satisfied with the lasagna only? There is still quite a possibility of her asking for dessert.
A very big possibility.
All profound admiration of her cunning aside, Fuuko Kirisawa isn't exactly a dream guest.
"So can I read your essay?" she asked after wolfing down her part, and still reaching over for seconds.
The paper was handed to the girl. While balancing the essay, the can of beer and the fork in her hands, part of the composition somehow ended up on the plate of lasagna, with the sauce staining a good part of it.
"Ack!" she yelped, flailing the soiled piece of paper around then trying to take away the mottle in vain.
Tokiya was clearly not amused with her little satire and stood up to get his work back. And as he did so, for the second time that day, their hands came in to touch, and the unbidden feelings that they've forcibly shoved behind at the back of their heads came sweeping over them once again.
Deafening silence reigned. Both again standing still, taking feel of what came upon them. But Fuuko didn't want to take part in it. Was it fear? Or denial? She didn't want to know. She jerked her hand back along with his essay, and feigned a smile.
"Silly Mi-chan, it's still a draft right? No need to fret over it."
He was about to say that she was the one who started panicking first, but decided otherwise in order not to spark up any other unwanted emotions. He sat down and chose to continue with his dinner while Fuuko went through his work.
The purple-haired girl inwardly smiled as she read his words. It was exactly how she expected it: sage and recondite words that are meant to strike the heart and soul, as well as ignite a force to keep one contemplating on the matter-a style that was very distinctly Tokiya Mikagami. And somehow, she felt a feeling of pride swell inside her, since aside from being the first person to actually make it this far in his immaculate abode, she is most probably the first person whom Mikagami is willingly sharing his thoughts on such of his ideas.
Also, the thought of helping him with his work excited her, although it made her insecure a bit. Though that insecurity was subsided a bit when she remembered his reasons for inviting her, aside from Yanagi being unable to attend. And who knows… This may be the very chance she was hoping for, that Tokiya Mikagami will finally lighten and up in the least, and if fate would look kindly on her, open up to her and treat her as more than an acquaintance he is forced to relate to for civility's sake.
Maybe he could tell himself over and over that he didn't care about what she thought of his essay, but in truth, he couldn't stop himself from asking for any of her insights. Of course, he wouldn't show it outright…
"So?" he asked after a few minutes of silence.
"This is so like you, Mi-chan," she commented.
"I did write it," he said sardonically, stating the obvious.
Fuuko glared at him. "Well, duh, I know. What I meant was it's written in a know-it-all kinda way. Very much like you."
Know-it-all kinda way? Now he never really saw it like that.
"Elaborate," he said, motioning for her to continue.
"You started by describing pride and, uhm, how people react to it and stuff…" Fuuko began, all the while taking constant sips from the beer. "Mind you, though, I think your observations are right to a certain degree-"
"So what's wrong with it?" he interrupted. Truth be told, Tokiya Mikagami didn't take criticism all too well. And Fuuko's seemingly unsure explication of his work wasn't exactly helping either.
"Geez, Mi-chan, let me finish…" she answered back. "See, this is the problem of your essay, and your problem as well! You make it sound like you're above worthless human feelings. You look at human pride in such a detached point of view. Maybe that's why you can't continue this thing."
"Is that why you said I have nothing to be proud of?" he blurted out, not being able to hold back his curiosity anymore. He wanted to know so badly. It was high time that he found out why.
She looked up from her plate questioningly. "Huh?"
"Last night… You said I had nothing to be proud of," he repeated, a feeling of something akin to dread forming somewhere in his chest.
"Oh," she looked back down to her plate and thought about her words. It was definitely one of those things one said in those moments of dire animosity and then regretted afterwards. She knew deep in her heart that she didn't really mean it, that Mi-chan did have a lot of things to be proud of. Ah, she can't let her emotions carry her away like that every time… "I didn't mean that, Mi-chan. I'm sorry," she apologized. "I say a lot of stupid stuff when I get carried away."
He was, needless to say, stunned at her apology. She didn't mean it? She didn't mean those words that made him invite her here, those words that have plagued his head and humanity as well?
Those words that made him think she was different from them.
She didn't understand.
She never understood at all.
TBC
A/N: I think I'm taking this ficcie too far. I originally planned it to be just simple tea, and now look what Ive done. ^~^;; Anyway, upcoming conflict ahead. And to those who've been following this fic, you would've figured by now that I update every Tuesday (just before Smallville ^u^). But sadly, I won't be able to post next week since I've to prepare for our quarterly exams. Normally posting will resume on the 24th. (Now that just sounded like a tv channel unable to air).
A Cup of Tea
Chapter 8
Tokiya ignored the slight disappointment coming from the interruption. Then again, maybe it was better if he got her to talk while eating. She might feel more comfortable then.
"So do you want to move in the dining room?"
Fuuko looked up to see his somewhat strained features, and then her gaze trailed down to the steaming plate of lasagna held by his hands covered with… mitts… pink-flowery-oven mitts. And with frilly apron to match.
She opened her mouth to answer something intelligible, but nothing came out. But who could blame her? She was seeing Tokiya Mikagami in a PINK FRILLY APRON with PINK FLOWER OVEN MITTS holding a pan of lasagna. And add that to the fact that he just BAKED A CHOCOLATE CAKE a few hours back. A chocolate cake that happened to be very, very good…
Was she really seeing this?
"Fuuko, if you don't mind, I'd like to take these things off now, as much as you seem to be enjoying staring at them," he said in a dry manner, obviously motioning to his choice in kitchen apparel.
"Oh, um," she snapped out of her trance. "The kitchen's just fine, Mi-chan."
Quite frankly, the only place inside his house that made her feel comfortable was his kitchen. She remembered what the dining room was like when she passed by it, and it was every inch the austere and imposing hall that it was, with the long mahogany table and the chandelier towering above. The kitchen, unlike the other parts of the house, seemed more like a home to her. She silently wondered if Tokiya really did decorate this place. And if so, why did he leave the kitchen so different from the others?
He placed the lasagna on the table. "Very well then." He took off the ludicrous garments and took the seat across her. "Now can we get down to business?"
Fuuko nodded. "But before we begin," she took two cans of beer, tossed one to him and pulled the tab on her own. "A toast!"
Mikagami looked down at the can before opening it as well. "For what?"
"Er, I don't know…" she scratched the back of her neck. "But we'll think of something later. Let's just toast, okay?"
He shrugged and let both their cans of beer come to contact with a resounding clang. Fuuko grinned and took a swig from her can afterwards. He watched in amazement as the girl continuously gulped the alcohol without even taking a breath. Surely his tea wasn't that vile tasting that she needed immediate remedy this badly?
Halfway through the can, Fuuko pulled up from for breath and wiped her mouth with the sleeve of her kimono. The sight of it was pretty farcical, he had to admit.
"Now we can get down to business!" she declared.
She can't be drunk with half a can of beer, right?
An even larger smile graced Fuuko's features as she took a bite from the lasagna. "Mmm, good!"
He visibly disregarded the loud, nettling sounds coming from the obviously famished girl. And he thought she'd be full after wiping out the whole cake… Apparently, to be a good host before Fuuko Kirisawa means to allot quite an amount of money to spend on her food. What if the girl with the bottomless pit isn't satisfied with the lasagna only? There is still quite a possibility of her asking for dessert.
A very big possibility.
All profound admiration of her cunning aside, Fuuko Kirisawa isn't exactly a dream guest.
"So can I read your essay?" she asked after wolfing down her part, and still reaching over for seconds.
The paper was handed to the girl. While balancing the essay, the can of beer and the fork in her hands, part of the composition somehow ended up on the plate of lasagna, with the sauce staining a good part of it.
"Ack!" she yelped, flailing the soiled piece of paper around then trying to take away the mottle in vain.
Tokiya was clearly not amused with her little satire and stood up to get his work back. And as he did so, for the second time that day, their hands came in to touch, and the unbidden feelings that they've forcibly shoved behind at the back of their heads came sweeping over them once again.
Deafening silence reigned. Both again standing still, taking feel of what came upon them. But Fuuko didn't want to take part in it. Was it fear? Or denial? She didn't want to know. She jerked her hand back along with his essay, and feigned a smile.
"Silly Mi-chan, it's still a draft right? No need to fret over it."
He was about to say that she was the one who started panicking first, but decided otherwise in order not to spark up any other unwanted emotions. He sat down and chose to continue with his dinner while Fuuko went through his work.
The purple-haired girl inwardly smiled as she read his words. It was exactly how she expected it: sage and recondite words that are meant to strike the heart and soul, as well as ignite a force to keep one contemplating on the matter-a style that was very distinctly Tokiya Mikagami. And somehow, she felt a feeling of pride swell inside her, since aside from being the first person to actually make it this far in his immaculate abode, she is most probably the first person whom Mikagami is willingly sharing his thoughts on such of his ideas.
Also, the thought of helping him with his work excited her, although it made her insecure a bit. Though that insecurity was subsided a bit when she remembered his reasons for inviting her, aside from Yanagi being unable to attend. And who knows… This may be the very chance she was hoping for, that Tokiya Mikagami will finally lighten and up in the least, and if fate would look kindly on her, open up to her and treat her as more than an acquaintance he is forced to relate to for civility's sake.
Maybe he could tell himself over and over that he didn't care about what she thought of his essay, but in truth, he couldn't stop himself from asking for any of her insights. Of course, he wouldn't show it outright…
"So?" he asked after a few minutes of silence.
"This is so like you, Mi-chan," she commented.
"I did write it," he said sardonically, stating the obvious.
Fuuko glared at him. "Well, duh, I know. What I meant was it's written in a know-it-all kinda way. Very much like you."
Know-it-all kinda way? Now he never really saw it like that.
"Elaborate," he said, motioning for her to continue.
"You started by describing pride and, uhm, how people react to it and stuff…" Fuuko began, all the while taking constant sips from the beer. "Mind you, though, I think your observations are right to a certain degree-"
"So what's wrong with it?" he interrupted. Truth be told, Tokiya Mikagami didn't take criticism all too well. And Fuuko's seemingly unsure explication of his work wasn't exactly helping either.
"Geez, Mi-chan, let me finish…" she answered back. "See, this is the problem of your essay, and your problem as well! You make it sound like you're above worthless human feelings. You look at human pride in such a detached point of view. Maybe that's why you can't continue this thing."
"Is that why you said I have nothing to be proud of?" he blurted out, not being able to hold back his curiosity anymore. He wanted to know so badly. It was high time that he found out why.
She looked up from her plate questioningly. "Huh?"
"Last night… You said I had nothing to be proud of," he repeated, a feeling of something akin to dread forming somewhere in his chest.
"Oh," she looked back down to her plate and thought about her words. It was definitely one of those things one said in those moments of dire animosity and then regretted afterwards. She knew deep in her heart that she didn't really mean it, that Mi-chan did have a lot of things to be proud of. Ah, she can't let her emotions carry her away like that every time… "I didn't mean that, Mi-chan. I'm sorry," she apologized. "I say a lot of stupid stuff when I get carried away."
He was, needless to say, stunned at her apology. She didn't mean it? She didn't mean those words that made him invite her here, those words that have plagued his head and humanity as well?
Those words that made him think she was different from them.
She didn't understand.
She never understood at all.
TBC
A/N: I think I'm taking this ficcie too far. I originally planned it to be just simple tea, and now look what Ive done. ^~^;; Anyway, upcoming conflict ahead. And to those who've been following this fic, you would've figured by now that I update every Tuesday (just before Smallville ^u^). But sadly, I won't be able to post next week since I've to prepare for our quarterly exams. Normally posting will resume on the 24th. (Now that just sounded like a tv channel unable to air).