I was too busy to watch for him, but I could occasionally sneak a glance toward the window. I was bent over a sheet of truffles, adding coco powder to the tops of them when I felt a sharp tap on my back. I jumped and turned around. Ryuzaki stood there, looking at me thoughtfully.
"Oh. Hello, Ryuzaki-San. Just a minute." I turned and called for Yukiko. She came stepping lightly in high-heeled feet. Our Yukiko was the belle of the bakery and had a constant swarm of male admirers at hand.
"Oh, he's here?" She asked, giggling behind a perfectly manicured hand.
I know I look hideous, Yukiko must be a breathe of fresh air…I thought.
"I'll tell cook." Yukiko warbled, winking at a surprised Ryuzaki. She ran off, Clickety-Click, Clickety-Click, on those heels. Ryuzaki gave me a searching look.
"My employer, the cook, said I could bake an hour for you, but he would have to know when you came in." I told him as I took out the bins of flour and sugar.
"What shall I bake first, Ryuu-San?" I asked, trying to blow a strand of blonde hair off my face with my breath.
"Cake." He replied, straightforwardly.
"Ah, all right. Let me get the ingredients. White?" I called over my shoulder as I got out eggs and milk from the large fridge in the corner of the large kitchen.
"Yes, White, please." He called back, sitting on a chair in the kitchen. He sat hunched up, with his knees up to his chest. I chuckled inwardly.
What a strange customer I've found.
I thought
"You do not need a recipe?" He enquired, bringing me out of my thoughts. I shook my head.
"No, I don't need one. I know them all by heart." I returned proudly, mixing in the egg to make batter. I set out a cake pan and reached up for the frostings.
"Urgh." I grunted as I stood on tiptoes, my fingertips brushing the bottom of the cabinet. I had always been 5 '4. Shorter than any other twenty-or-so-year-old. The cook had always left the icings down low where I could reach them.
"Here, let me." Ryuzaki had came up stealthily behind me and reached up, selecting several pink and red tubes of frosting. He was five or four inches taller than I was. He set the icings on the counter and stared at me.
'Would you teach me how to bake cake, Nuiko-Chan?" He asked.
"Ehhh? Ah, all right." I returned. I helped him stir and spoon the batter into the pan, he was holding the items delicately, as if they would crumble in his light grip. He was a surprise, instead of ignoring the directions and being gruff about his mistakes, he was calm, thoughtful always nodding, nodding to the instructions I gave him.
He sat solemnly staring into the oven, watching the cake cooking slowly. I sat by him; smiling at how childish he looked.
"A watched cake never bakes, Ryuu-Nii." I told him reproachfully.
"Ah heh heh heh. Yes, I suppose so. But that saying seems rather childish and foolish, neh?" He responded, turning his glance to me. I bit my lip, searching for an answer.
"Did your mother never tell you that, Ryuu-Kun? A watched pot never boils?" I asked curiously.
"No. Both my mother and father died when I was smaller. He informed me without blinking or choking up, as I would have done.
"O-oh, I see. I'm sorry Ryazuki-Nii, really I am. I understand, I'm a foster child. I've never known my parents." I could feel my eyes getting hot like I was going to cry. Not because of my parents but HIS, knowing them and then losing them.
That would be horrible!"Its all right. Thank you, though. And I'm sorry to hear about your guardians." He spoke quietly, as though saying 'parents' pained him extremely.
I felt a burning tear trickle down my face. I don't even know why know, but I flung myself over to him and buried my face in his shirt.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry!" I sobbed. He patted my head, awkwardly.
"Ah, thank you very much, Nuiko- Chan."