Puits d'Amour
Encounter, Pt 2
Maybe he should have taken the damn car after all.
Yamato opted to walk from the palace to the speech site outside a nearby monument, as the weather was fine and he hoped to spot the café Jyou mentioned. The route for the car was already roped off and secured, so what did it matter if he walked?
But oh, it did. Cars, you see, provide a modicum of privacy. His short jaunt turned into a miniature parade, the sort of pointless pageantry he was relieved to have avoided. And he volunteered for it!
Idiot. Did you want coffee and a pastry so badly? Yamato just learned that people would flock from afar to watch him board a boat. Why, exactly, had he failed to anticipate that people would also flood the sidewalks of Nagano for their first glimpse of the crown prince in years?
Breathe in, breathe out, walk. That was all Yamato could do now. He focused on his surroundings, on the slight chill of the early September morning and the hint of gray lingering in the sky, setting a fading pallor over the world. Thankfully, this speech near a monument by the mall did not require royal ceremonial garb, but Yamato wore a formal kimono for the first time in years. He enjoyed informal kimonos, and especially yukatas, as they were elegant and easy to wear. But the more formal garb was layered, featuring a nagagi (the full-length, robe-like main article), a hakama (a pleated and divided skirt), and a haori (a half coat). The pieces were made of silk of the highest quality and bore his family's crest, with the nagagi and haori in royal navy and the hakama in silvery gray. It was a striking uniform, but a suit was simpler to wear.
Yamato found nature soothing, and had opted to walk in search of it. Unfortunately, Nagano offered little of that, at least compared to the Côtes d'Armor. This was the grandest section of the city, the portion housing the palace, Parliament, government buildings, monuments, museums, Nagano University, the Kido hospital and medical school and the rest of the country's leading medical facilities, many of the iemoto masters and families, and some of the finest retail businesses and restaurants available. By city standards, it was spacious, dotted with trees, flowers, and even parks and a famous walking mall- the grassy type for strolling, not shopping. Nagano also featured a lovely promenade along the coast of the sea surrounding the island nation of Hakone.
He had to admit that the stately old buildings were charming, especially with the old trees beside them. Although the city far predated cars, this section was originally built with roads for parades, horse and cart traffic, pedestrian traffic, and likely for the aesthetic. It was one of the few places in Nagano that comfortably tolerated a restricted number of cars, which was a plus for elite citizens who wanted to travel with some privacy.
Which, of course, made Yamato feel all the more foolish for electing to walk.
Trees lined both sides of the road- sakura trees, if memory served, though not in bloom now. It would have been a pleasant amble under different circumstances, but the sidewalks lining either side of the road were crammed with people. Their excited chatter disturbed what should have been a quiet, peaceful morning.
As always, a host of guards and attendants surrounded him. Roncier was at his side, calmly strolling, as if hundreds of people weren't gawking at them. Yamato plastered on a smile and knew it looked forced. He had never excelled at controlling his expressions.
Things were uncomfortable, but more or less under control... Until reporters realized that the crown prince was strolling the streets. Eventually, they strong-armed their way to the front of the crowds, up against the ropes keeping pedestrians off the road. Yamato's eye twitched as a flash went off in his periphery.
"Could you stand beside me?" Yamato asked the nearest attendants. When they moved to visually block him from the crowd, he murmured, "Thank you." Flashes continued in bursts, but at least Yamato had a buffer now. He rubbed Roncier's head, needing comfort.
And speaking of comfort, if he didn't at least get a coffee out of his foolish walk, his precarious control would implode. Yamato leaned towards an attendant and said, "Do you know of a café that bakes Autun pastries?"
The attendant blinked, as if surprised that Yamato said something to him that wasn't an order. "Er- Yes, Your Highness. Café du Ciel; my brother works there. We'll pass by it shortly. Would you like to send an order ahead?"
Relief nearly had him slouching- not a good look for a prince, especially with photographers buzzing about. "We left early," Yamato replied. "There's time. I'd like to stop in." Of course, the more accurate phrasing would have been, "I might commit violence in front of a crowd if I don't," but a wise ruler learned when to omit details.
The poor man looked to be suffering some sort of mechanical error, like an automobile struggling to turn over its engine. "You want to... Go in?"
Ah. Yamato paused and slid his fingers through Roncier's fur. "My parents encourage my brother and me to go among the people we will one day serve. They say an insulated ruler is a useless ruler." He could have added that they had privately expressed regret that they became monarchs too young to spend time among the people before coming into power, but again, that detail wasn't meant for public sharing.
Although he still looked hesitant, the attendant replied, "Yes, Your Highness. I'll send someone ahead to break the crowd there."
"Thank you." A tiny portion of tension disintegrated. Maybe the crowd would disperse if he vanished for a bit. If not, well, he'd have a damned coffee. That was something.
The walk continued, and Yamato endeavored to ignore the voices, the press of bodies that felt physical, even with a few feet of separation on either side, and the bursts of light and clicks from cameras. Meanwhile, he painted a lifeless smile on his face, gazing just over the crowd.
Mercifully, Café du Ciel was not far off. Only a few minutes of walking passed before the attendant reappeared and murmured, "This is the café, Your Highness."
"Thank you." Yamato paused and tipped his head back. The café building seemed to have two stories, at least aboveground. The architecture was reminiscent of older Autun buildings, with stone outer walls and wooden framed windows. In fact, the row of buildings matched, sticking out among the nearby structures, which were made in various styles of Nagano architecture, reflecting when each one was built or remodeled.
"Were these buildings always here?" Yamato asked. "I don't recall any Autun architecture in the capital."
"They are recent remodels, Your Highness. A few businesses expressed interest in importing Autun culture and wares here not long ago. They received tax breaks in return for bringing some of Autun to Nagano- and to the Queen."
Yamato nodded, unsure of how to respond. On his way to Hakone, during endless hours on the ship, he wondered how his mother felt while making the same voyage for her wedding- likely a longer one for her, as steamships had improved in the interim. She left everything behind to marry a stranger, to live, serve, and start a family in a country she had grown up at war with- a country who was an enemy a few weeks earlier. Yamato at least had lived here before, and had known only peace in both places.
He wondered if his father helped fund these businesses for his mother's benefit. He wondered what his mother's sacrifice felt like. He wondered what his own would cost him.
And then he reminded himself that it was time for coffee, not these heavy thoughts. Yamato followed an attendant through a gap in the group, enforced by guards in navy blue uniforms. The first few steps towards the café went smoothly, but soon, the crowd pressed inward, undeterred by the ropes and guards stationed along the walking route. Seeing his destination, bystanders flooded into the café. Reporters rushed into the freed space, and soon, cameras were flashing in Yamato's face. Sensing his tension, Roncier growled. Yamato gripped his shoulder, supporting him, but also holding him at bay. The dog was well-trained, and would not attack without direct order. But Roncier's thoughts seemed to be veering in that direction, which was never ideal for a creature weighing nearly fifty-five kilograms.
"Your Highness," the attendant murmured, sounding stressed. "The guards are reinforcing the way, but I don't think it's advisable to enter the café..."
"I need to get Roncier out of here," Yamato replied.
"There's a delivery lane behind the businesses," the attendant said, nodding. "That will be easy to block off and hold."
"Do it." Yamato waited while the attendant passed the message to the nearest guard. More guards surrounded him from behind. He didn't feel threatened- the people were excited and celebrating. But the swarming crowd, the extended focus on him, his inability to walk into a café for a damned drink... Frustration was building, igniting into anger.
The guards worked quickly, securing the small, one-lane delivery road behind the row of Autun-themed businesses. They led Yamato there, forming a wall between him and the crowd. Once he was behind the buildings, guards stood shoulder-to-shoulder on either side of the alley.
Yamato released a breath, then stroked Roncier's head. "It's okay, old friend," he murmured. The dog caught and held his gaze, then licked his palm.
Yamato straightened, then called the attendant over. Although Yamato's direct attention seemed to throw him off at first, the young man reacted smartly now, without confusion or hesitation. "Yes, Your Highness?"
"I want to see if they can serve me a coffee from the back," he said. "I'm sure it's unorthodox, but…"
But what? But he was a prince, and could impose himself if necessary? He hated to think that way, but he was trapped behind a wall of guards and the shifting crowd beyond them, regrettably short on options. Yamato drew a deep breath, then asked, "Do you have experience with dogs? I can't take Roncier into a restaurant."
"Your Highness, I would be happy to fetch you a drink."
"Thank you, but I'd benefit from time away from the crowd."
The attendant hesitated, and Yamato realized that arguing with an unreasonable prince wasn't part of his training... Which was all the better for him. "What's your name?" Establishing rapport could go a long way. And, though he hadn't noticed it while parading in front of half the city, Yamato was cognizant that this particular attendant had made himself available to him, staying near him and taking on a directing role between him and the rest of the entourage. That wasn't a duty most people took on voluntarily, which meant that this man was either bold and enterprising, or had been entrusted with a leadership and direct service role from higher-ups.
The attendant straightened, like a soldier called to attention, then bowed. "Ichijouji Osamu, Your Highness."
Yamato wasn't ignoring his attendants before, but with all of the stimulus, he had trouble focusing on particulars. He took this moment of comparative quiet to observe Osamu. He looked to be roughly mid-twenties and moderately athletic, just fit enough to create the suggestion of fitness. He had dark blue eyes, somewhat poofy black hair, and wore glasses that seemed designed to suggest intellectualism. He had fine features and gave off a dignified, capable vibe- in short, the ideal look for a royal attendant. Like the other palace staff, he wore a navy nagagi and light blue haori, marked with the insignia of an attendant to the Hakone royal family.
Yamato offered his hand, and Osamu briefly hesitated before shaking, likely surprised by the offer. "It's a pleasure. Roncier is well-trained, but the crowds are upsetting him. He needs to stay behind the guards, away from the activity. He shouldn't give you any trouble, but he's strong. If he starts to stand, have him sit."
Yamato quickly taught Osamu how to give Roncier the most relevant commands. Then, he reassured Roncier that he would be back soon and gave Osamu his leash. "If anyone gives you a hard time for this, direct them to me."
On the surface, the statement seemed like an offer of protection towards Osamu for the prince's choice to do something… admittedly foolish. But it was also an acknowledgment that Yamato recognized Osamu to be in charge, in some capacity- a capacity he would investigate at his convenience.
For now, he turned, opened the café's back door, entered, and shut it behind him.
Yamato drew a deep, steadying breath- and found himself ripped forcibly back in time. The café smelled of baking pastries, the kind his mother made when he was small. Suddenly, he was both comforted and shakier than ever. Dazed, he leaned against the closed door.
He stood in a narrow hallway. There was a kitchen in front of him, doors opened to reveal rows of steel working counters, several ovens, and stacked cooling racks. Women bustled within, some kneading dough, some working stand mixers, others decorating cooled pastries. To his right, the hallway turned ninety degrees, and seemed to continue on, likely to the café.
Voices bounced down the hall, and Yamato recalled the crowd rushing into the building. Standing alone back here, where customers were clearly not meant to be, the folly of his plan- or retreat, more accurately- was impressed upon him. But he was both too stubborn and too far into things to back out now, so Yamato steadied himself, approached the kitchen, and hesitantly poked his head in.
The dregs of morning grayness had fallen, and gentle illumination softened the kitchen through windows set high in the walls. Despite the noise and movement, the lighting impressed a hushed, hallowed feeling upon him. "Excuse me?" he gently called, wary of startling the staff.
Despite his efforts, a young woman with black hair in a bun jerked and turned. She had dark eyes and wore large glasses. "Um... Sora-san?" she called, turning towards a woman by a standing mixer.
Sora looked up and smiled warmly. "What's wrong, Meiko-chan?"
"Um..." Meiko's head pivoted towards Yamato, and Sora followed her gaze- and stared directly at him. Mutual confusion passed between them, almost palpably. Sora's was certainly caused by the appearance of a stranger where people weren't meant to be, but Yamato's… Well, he was too overwrought to analyze it.
After a few beats, a gap to process, Sora smiled again. What was pleasant to observe directed at someone else was entrancing when focused on him. Her smile was more than winsome- it suggested safety and belonging, a sense of coming home. Yamato groped for the edge of the doorway, searching for purchase.
Sora had a heart-shaped face, auburn hair pulled back into a short, messy ponytail, and mahogany eyes. She wore an informal kimono in pale blue with the sleeves tied back, protected by a white apron. She was attractive, but most nobles and wealthy families had the resources to present an appealing appearance. That wasn't what Yamato was drawn to, not really.
It was more the kind way she looked at Meiko, and at him, despite the fact that he absolutely did not belong here.
"I'm sorry, sir," Sora sighed, turning off her mixer. "Did I forget to lock the back door? There's so much going on today, I'm not surprised. I'm afraid customers are meant to enter through the front."
If Yamato wasn't so overwhelmed, he might have grimaced at the suggestion. "Um," he managed. "Uh- It, it's so crowded."
Sora blinked. Her eyes passed over him, and Yamato wondered if she recognized him- though from where, he couldn't say. There weren't many current photographs of him circulating in Hakone, and they couldn't convey his most memorable features: the colors of his hair and eyes. His kimono carried the royal crest, but at a glance, perhaps he passed as an attendant in formal uniform.
"You do look off-color," Sora said. "Chiaki-chan, can you please put this dough in the fridge?"
Chiaki called an acknowledgment. Sora thanked her, then pulled out a stool from beneath a large steel working counter. She brought it towards Yamato, and for a moment, he thought he was being banished to the hallway. But Sora placed the stool against the wall within the room. "Have a seat. I haven't seen you before, and most of my customers are local. Are you traveling?"
Painfully cognizant of his earlier stammering, Yamato took his time sitting, stalling until until he was calm enough to speak clearly. "Thank you. I just moved here."
"Oh! Welcome, then!" Sora laughed, a sweet, lovely sound. "I'll treat you to a pastry and coffee today, if you promise to come back!"
"D-definitely." The stammering was already back, but what could he do? The way she looked at him reminded him of a teacher doting on a favorite pupil. Something maternal, but not quite; sisterly, maybe. I'm just a random person who wandered where I wasn't meant to be...
"Great! Regulars are our lifeblood! I'm Takenouchi Sora. I own this café."
Yamato hesitated. He was enjoying the conversation, and didn't want to derail it by revealing who he was. And anyway, there was something about that name...
Memories trickled to the surface of his mind. In flashes, he saw a clumsy ikebana arrangement made primarily of blue flowers, and heard his brother nattering cheerfully beside him as he stuck random blooms into his piece. Takenouchi Toshiko, a beautiful woman in a colorful kimono, presided over the working princes, with a stern expression that melted whenever they addressed her.
"Takenouchi Sora," Yamato said slowly. "Of the Takenouchi ikebana school?"
"That's right." It looked like Sora was going to say more, but a young man entered the kitchen. Yamato glanced at the movement, then froze. The man was blond, blue-eyed, and looked to be about Takeru's age. For a moment, he almost thought his brother materialized in the café, just to mess with him... Which somehow was not outside the realm of possibility, not where Takeru was concerned.
"Sora-san, we're out of pain au chocolat. And croissants. There aren't many cinnamon rolls left, either."
"Again?!" Chiaki demanded.
"There was another rush of customers. Apparently the prince passed by?" The young man shrugged, looking haggard. Yamato concentrated, struggling to place his accent. If he had to guess, he'd say the young man was from New Hope.
"We have more pastries coming, but..." Sora sighed. "Are you overworked, Wallace-kun? Take a break if you need it. Stay hydrated."
"I do need water, thank you," Wallace sighed.
"How are Taichi and Ken-kun doing? Mimi-chan and Miyako-chan?"
"The ladies are in high spirits, as always," Wallace replied. "I think the gents are tired. We stocked up on drinks, so folks who can't get the pastry they wanted are buying those. Hell, we're even low on flowers."
Sora pressed a hand to her forehead and left a powdery streak. Yamato's fingers twitched, an automatic attempt to fix it from across the room. His face warmed as he lowered his arm.
"I can't believe it..." Sora murmured.
"The prince special is still in stock, right?" Wallace asked. "Since we could put puits d'amour in the fridge overnight? We need to bring more out."
It seemed to be his day for involuntary body movements. Yamato jerked and was forced to focus on his balance on the tiny stool. "You have puits d'amour?"
Wallace twitched just as hard as he had, then spun around to face Yamato. "You shook me! What are you doing back here, sir?"
"He accidentally came in through the back," Sora said, rescuing him. "He's new to town, so I thought we'd treat him. Would you like a puits d'amour?"
"I, I would," Yamato stammered. "That's my favorite."
"Is it really?" Sora replied. "You're in good company! They're said to be the crown prince's favorite, as well. I don't normally offer them, since they're labor intensive. But because they need to sit overnight in the fridge, we were able to prep them ahead of time. The prince special comes with that and a pressed coffee, which is apparently popular in Autun."
"I'd love that." Forcing his brain to gloss over the phrase 'prince special' demanded an incredible bulk of his already depleted brain power. He could only hope that he didn't look as glazed as he felt.
"Wonderful. Wallace-kun, could you put that order in and bring it here? Take a break in between. We'll send out whatever we can as soon as possible."
Wallace glanced from Yamato to Sora and said, "Er- Yes, Sora-san." Wallace asked him how he took his coffee, then exited the room.
"I have to get back to work," Sora said. "I don't think I caught your name, though."
"Yamato." In Hakone, it was strange not to offer a full name, family and personal, and it was unheard of in noble circles all over the world. Doing so removed all sense of importance, of connection to bloodline, history, family wealth, and reputation. But at this moment, Yamato wanted to seen as nothing more or less than that. Just... Yamato.
"Like the prince again!" Sora laughed. "But I suppose that's how it is. The names of royal children become popular just after their birth."
Yamato offered a nod of agreement, and Sora continued, "Wallace-kun will bring you your order. I'd prefer for you to stay, but with how busy we are, it isn't safe to have an extra person in the kitchen. We have outdoor tables set up, so please eat there, and come back to see us!"
"I will," Yamato promised. He had a feeling that his morning walks, which he had planned to confine to palace grounds until the locals got bored of him, might extend to the café.
Wallace must have expedited his order, because he returned shortly with a bag and a takeout cup. Yamato stood to accept. The back door he entered through opened, and Osamu poked his head in. "Excuse me. Your Highness?" he called.
Yamato's hand froze in the act of taking the bag from Wallace. Without looking, he felt every head jerk towards him, like several spotlights flashing onto his back, giving off heat.
Osamu looked relieved to see him. "My apologies, Your Highness, but we must continue on our way. Were you able to get your coffee?"
"Yes. Just a moment, please, and I'll be along."
The attendant nodded, excused himself to several astonished faces, and closed the door.
"Um." Yamato cleared his throat. He was too frazzled to identify the quality hanging over the stretching, itching silence, but the sensation was far from pleasant.
Mercifully, Wallace shook his head, forcefully removing himself from the grip of shock, and tapped his chin. "Well, that does explain why you used the back door."
"Wallace-kun!" Meiko squeaked, covering her face with both hands. Yamato's lips twitched into a tiny smile, somehow comforted to see someone taking this even worse than he was.
"No offense taken; he's right, that is why I couldn't use the proper entrance. Thank you for accommodating me. I know you said this was on the house, but I want to thank you for giving me coffee and good company." Yamato dug a bill from his pocket, aware that he was carrying denominations far too large for a coffee and pastry. Clearing his throat, he traded the bill for his order with Wallace, whose eyes went wide.
"Takenouchi-san, may I ask a favor?" Sora managed a nod, so Yamato continued, "May I come here again? Through the back, like today?"
A slight pause, then another tiny nod. With obvious effort, Sora scrounged for her voice and said, "I'd be thrilled to have you, Your Highness."
"You can call me whatever makes you comfortable," Yamato replied. "But if you don't mind using my name..." What else could he say? There were several reasons why addressing a prince casually could be a bad idea, even with his permission. But something about Sora's kitchen, the comfortable atmosphere, the scents of his childhood, the cheerful bustle…
He wanted to belong here.
"Oh! Oh, wait here, please!" Sora put down the cup of flour she was measuring and dashed past Yamato. A moment later, she returned, holding a few cuttings of delphinium flowers. "You like these, right? My mother told me. It would be a shame if you didn't get any!"
"T-thank you..." What else could he say? There was already an itinerary of officials requesting audiences, citizens crowding for a glimpse of him, reporters bumping them aside to take his photograph. And suddenly, he stood in a kitchen that smelled of home, his hands overfull with some of his favorite things. Yamato swallowed hard, feeling desperately off balance.
"No, not at all!" Sora replied, and that lovely smile returned. "Welcome home!"
Yamato focused on her warm eyes, willing himself not to wince. Home was behind him now, and would be for some time. But Sora had no way of knowing that, so he forced a smile. "Thank you. You're really too kind, Takenouchi-san. I'll be taking you up on your offer to come back. Good day."
With that, he departed. Osamu waited just beyond the door, and held his hands out to swap Roncier's lead for the flowers. "They gave you these?"
"Takenouchi-san was very kind. She said I could come again through the back. I'd like to do so."
Yamato knew his behavior today was both odd and troublesome for the staff. A car ride would have been far easier to handle, and poking into the back door of a café was… unorthodox. Now that he was calmer, he was aware that it would be best to indicate that he would be more accommodating in the future. Instead, he apparently planned to continue being difficult.
It was reasonable for Osamu to be annoyed or overwhelmed, but to his credit, he seemed to be learning and adjusting rapidly. "I'll talk to the guards," he said, withholding comment.
Yamato thanked him, then listened to Osamu's plans for the rest of the journey to the site of the speech.
XXX
Sora could barely remember yesterday, at least, not after a prince skulked into her kitchen, looking like a cat longing to dart beneath a bed. The rest of the day passed in a tizzy, a haze of work and dazed disbelief. She was grateful other people witnessed the strange encounter. Otherwise, she might have assumed it was a hallucination brought on by overwork and subsisting on taste tests of dough batches.
Everyone worked hard yesterday, scrambling to serve more customers than they could accommodate. But Sora was there all day, working from two in the morning straight through closing at nine in the evening. Excitement was still high, and folks visiting the capital to see the prince hadn't vanished overnight. They'd still be looking for breakfast, so Sora worked her morning baking shift.
Normally, she stayed a few hours after, checking on her staff, ordering supplies, and performing other administrative tasks. Today, she dragged herself up the stairs to her home as soon as the pastry display case was stocked. She tried to push against her fatigue, but the looks Taichi and Mimi shot her suggested that they would haul her home themselves if she didn't elect for the easier, more dignified course.
Footsteps approached as Sora worked the lock to the stairwell. She was surprised to see Mimi, who would soon be checking out customers. Still, she opened the door and stepped aside, letting Mimi through. After all, she was carrying a coffee, a croissant, and a newspaper smushed between her upper arm and her side.
"Have some breakfast," Mimi said, unusually stern. "I didn't see you eat yesterday."
Sora wisely opted to say, "Thank you," and leave it at that. She sat at the little round wooden table in her kitchen, and Mimi took the other chair.
"I only have a minute," Mimi said as she placed the newspaper on the table. She rotated it so that the front page headline faced Sora. "Is this the man who came into the kitchen yesterday? Was that really the crown prince?"
Sora wasn't interested in princes, but she was longing to know what the heck happened yesterday. She grabbed the paper, missing Mimi's satisfied little smile. The photograph showed the young man who had materialized in her kitchen, standing at a podium. It couldn't capture his presence: the strained emotions in his eyes, his smooth, low voice with its compelling accent, likely the result of growing up speaking multiple languages.
"It is him," Sora murmured. "He was much more handsome in person, though." It was difficult to explain, but the prince in the photograph looked like he was wearing a mask: the detached, practiced look of a professional. The man who blundered through Café du Ciel's back door was much more human, like Meiko when her anxiety ran high, with hints of an irritated Taichi. His discomfort made Sora want to help him.
In contrast, the prince in the paper looked like he would rather do anything but let the viewer know what he was thinking and feeling. From the little she had seen of him in person, fleeting glimpses during public addresses and events, Sora knew the king, Hiroaki, gave an impression of a man who knew how to keep his hand hidden. But she remembered his kind eyes, which warmed when they saw her as a little girl.
Based on this picture, Yamato was perhaps attempting to emulate his father's unreadable quality, at least during public appearances. Maybe he would reach a place where he could do so without coming off as trying so hard some day. For her part, Sora preferred the overwhelmed man who bumbled into her kitchen to the one practicing his princely airs.
"It really was the prince?! And he was more handsome than this?!" Mimi demanded, poking the photograph. "Oooooh! I'm so frustrated! I can't believe I missed it!"
Sora managed an exhausted smile. "He did say he'd come back."
"Send someone to get me when he does!" Mimi cried, for the millionth time. "What was he like? Was he regal?"
Sora laughed, and was forced to balance her elbows on the table to hold herself upright. "He looked like a sad, stray puppy! He came in through the back to avoid the crowds, so I suspect he doesn't like the attention."
"But he's a prince!" Mimi protested. "Isn't that part of the job?"
"Well, he did spend a lot of time in Autun, growing up. Maybe he wasn't so famous there, since he's the Queen of Autun's nephew, not their crown prince?"
"Maybe," Mimi allowed. "The article said he came from the coastal countryside, too. Probably not that populated. But you said he was handsome?"
Sora sighed, but felt a rush of indulgent affection. Mimi was kind and friendly to everyone, although she had the confidence and skill to enforce boundaries. She was neither vapid nor shallow, but she was prone to being carried away by romantic things. And what could be more romantic than a chance encounter with a handsome prince? Sora could practically see the royal love story flashing through Mimi's glittering eyes.
"You have a picture," Sora laughed.
"But photographs aren't colored!" Mimi protested.
"His hair is light blond, and he has deep blue eyes. He's fair. I can't recall the colors of his clothing." Finer details were obliterated once the royal attendant uttered the words 'Your Highness.' Sora only recalled the basics because he shared them with the queen, and because the colors were rare in Hakone.
Mimi stared, and Sora realized she was waiting for more. "The picture," she said weakly.
"Fine," Mimi sighed. "At least I know it really was him! Now I can tell everyone!"
Sora blinked. "Did you- Did you wait to verify your gossip before spreading it?"
Mimi gasped, as if deeply wounded, and pressed a hand to her heart- but her smile gave her away. "Of course! I'm a professional! And speaking of, I need to get back to work. Eat up and rest, okay?"
"Okay. Thank you, Mimi-chan."
Mimi headed towards the door to the stairs and paused with her hand on the knob. "I can't wait to tell everyone! And I really can't wait until he comes back! What if he came home to find a bride?! Ah! Can you imagine being a princess?!" She twirled through the doorway, and her airy laughter bounced along the stairwell.
Sora picked up the newspaper and regarded the prince's photograph. "If I want to tell anyone the story myself, I had better do it fast," she murmured to Ishida Yamato, the stray prince who took shelter in her café.
Author's Notes: Yes Yamato, keep coming back to the café! I hope you enjoyed this fateful encounter! Next time, we'll learn more about Sora and Yamato's parents and the expectations on their shoulders.
Thank you for reading! Please do let me know what you think. Take care! And remember, this story has so much art and images to enjoy on AO3 :D