Title
:
The Matchmaker
Author
:
Mistress Symphony
Chapter
Title :
Sketching Everything
Main Pairing : NatsumexMikan
Category : Romance / Humour
Rating : Rated T For Teen(s) – This fanfiction may contain language and / or scenes that are sensitive and not suitable for ages below thirteen (13).
Summary : AU. She is his official matchmaker. But when he decided to be her UNOFFICIAL matchmaker to piss her, an unspoken war boomed that whoever would find his/her match shall capture the other's heart. Reluctantly. Deniably.
Standard Disclaimer : Gakuen Alice Does Not Belong To Me Nor Do The Other Stuffs That I Would Be Mentioning.
- - -
—Hotaru—
Sigh.
All I wanted to do today was to tweak some gears and to make some money and to eat stacks of crab roe.
Not to control a woman in her early twenties who is currently having a childish paroxysm.
"No, no, no and have I mentioned no?!" exclaimed the childish owner of Matchmaker, over-reacting over a simple thing.
As what I've mentioned on my last talk with you, you could find her again sitting on her wooden chair as if it was a durable throne. The table was just as worse as its owner and it would be shameful if some hypnotized old geezer happened to ask for our service... Which would be unlikely. It would take a genius to transform this stupid dating agency into a successful one.
Well. I happen to be a genius and I swear with my own high-and-mighty words that I am going to do it. Think of a date. I would be your genie.
In fact, my plan is starting to roll. As you see, Hyuuga Natsume: The Most Sought After Bachelour, is at the office of Matchmaker, asking for our service.
Aren't I such a miracle worker?
I certainly deserve more than a ton of crap roes.
Anyway, I don't want you to be anxious of my brilliant mind so let's go back to the someone who's intellect is less than mine.
If you have any objections, just be sure to wear your diapers or you'll wet your pants off.
Mikan glared at Hyuuga. Cross-armed. Wearing her angriest pout.
If this was an anime, I could probably see some smoke coming out of her nose and ears.
"My job description is to find someone a date not the other way around!"
The Hyuuga costumer didn't flinch and have a pensive look. Finally, after a few seconds he spoke with full-voice, very much professional—unlike Mikan, "I am giving you business, can't you see that?"
She banged her table, even standing up to add effect. "Giving me business?! I already have a business, you idiot!"
He snorted then gave me a stare that could probably translate to: "Is she joking?"
I shrugged at him but honestly, I wanted to just fly away out of this "office" and deny any connections with Mikan. She could be pretty dense and embarrassing—most of the time.
He rubbed a finger under his nose. The action that people do when they're thorn between annoyance and amusement.
"What's with that gesture?! Plotting something against me again?!"
"Tsk. Noisy bitch." he garbled darkly as he shot her a wary look then got back again from his pensive state. I didn't actually hear him, as my hearing isn't that sharp but I am excellent at lip-reading.
"Hey! I've heard that! Don't bitchie-bitch me you assh—owwll!" she screeched and stressed the last part of her sentence. That was all thanks to me as I hit her with my novelty-awarded baka-gun.
"Calm down, dummy." I stated coolly and ambled between Mikan and Hyuuga to avoid them from wreaking havoc.
I can't afford them breaking things at "my" office—since I am the only one who does all the paying.
She rubbed her sore forehead and pouted her thought-to-be-cute smile, desperately pulling me to her side. Tch. As if that would work. That Mikan never learned. "But Hotaru—"
"Shut up and let me handle this." I stated and stared at Hyuuga, now seeing that letting them talk would lead to nowhere. "Give me the details Hyuuga. We can't give a bizarre service such as yours without having a background."
He gave me a calculating and wary look, only not for long. I bet he knew from the looks of me that I am not someone close to Mikan's mind-set.
"Ruka recommended this agency that's why I somewhat trust that whatever we talk here will remain confidential."
I nodded, while I still need to nudge Mikan to her side to do the same.
"You know Shouda Sumire?"
Instantly, Mikan perked up upon hearing her rival's name. With a serious expression on her face, she immediately inquired, "What about her?"
- - -
—Mikan—
I raised a brow in amusement.
Awestricken!
I've never imagined a perverted costumer like this Hyuuga Natsume would get involved to someone as despicable as Shouda.
My face crumpled, fighting the urge not to scoff right at Hyuuga's face.
What a perfect match made in hell!
"Hyuuga-san, you have my sympathy." I tried to sound sincere, but I guess I am so bad in hiding my emotion because I sounded mocking. When I saw his face narrowed and turned sharp, a possible sign that I'm pissing him off, a small amount of salty water gathered at my eyes.
Then I gave in.
"My God, Hyuuga you're so unlucky! Imagine, marrying that Perm!" I remarked and inserted "haha" in almost every word.
Hyuuga Natsume clenched his exposed fist. I am betting he's resisting the urge to smack me so I inched closer to Hotaru. The nearer to Hotaru, the safer I am.
His brows were twitching.
"I am not here to be ridiculed."
"I did not make this agency to be harassed and be your date either!" I said but then remembering the oh-so-poor hellish situation he's in, I began to smile toothily. "But fine. Since you're so desperate to escape the wrath of being married to Perm—which was by the way, easy to understand—I'll help you bring that Perm down!"
And this will be my sweetest revenge ever... Watch your hemorrhoidal ass, Perm!
- - -
—Natsume—
I sat uncomfortably on her tatami mat.
—And sat again to have a better sitting position.
Why is her tatami mat so small?!
"Aren't we supposed to be at your house?"
She quirked a brow at me then walked her way to her waist-height refrigerator. I guess she has no intention of answering me.
Fine with me. Be that way.
I leaned my face over my hand. Without anything better to look at, I tilted my head to take a peep inside her ref.
Inside it are bottles of Coca-Cola that were recycled and became water containers. Other than that are boring stacks of canned goods and milk cartons.
"You are at my home." she informed lately as she get a carton of Cravendale milk then drank from it directly. That actually caught me off-guard as I've slipped my cheek past my palm.
Dumb-stricken.
What the hell?
This girl doesn't have any finesse—far from being sophisticated.
I frowned, having an inner battle if I should point out her disgusting action (I don't wanna be remarked as etiquette-freak) or not. She could have at least pretended she knew how to use cup when someone like me was around.
"Don't you have any glass? Or cup or something?"
She spun on her heels and faced me with a friendly smile— She was like someone new.
Is it because of milk?
"Oh? You want something to drink? Let me get you water then." she offered.
I immediately shook my head. I've got a feeling that the way how she drinks her milk is the way she drinks her water.
And there's no way I would want her microbes.
"Get me tap water."
"You sure?" she asked but nevertheless obeyed.
She picked a blue mug that was used to serve as a support to hold the synthetic plates diagonally but since there's still another mug (it's pink this time) supporting them, the plates merely made a clanking sound and remained on its diagonal position.
"Is that clean?"
"Of course it is!" she exclaimed, hurt, then as if suggested, she briefly washed the mug then filled it up with faucet water.
"There you go." she announced then placed the mug atop of the small square table made of wood.
"Straight from the faucet?"
She gave a curt nod with both of her hands propping on her waist. Her gesture kinda reminds me of my terror instructor when my classmates failed to answer the question she had thrown. "You said tap water and I gave you tap water. Finish it up. My water bills are as precious as my electricity's."
I picked up the mug and smelled it testily. It smelled of nothing but merely thinking that it came straight down of her filter-absent faucet, I think I am not thirsty anymore.
"Oh please! When you're at my home, stop being a richy-rich brat. I've been drinking the same water for eons and look—" she patted her stomach and as if she wasn't satisfied of how safe her water was, she snatched the water from me and drank it.
Now I really don't want to drink it.
"Just finish it off." I told her dryly and decided to observe more of her "house" in order to distract myself from the water-dilemma.
Have I told you, by the way, that her house turned out to be a small "room" of her "office"? I never thought that such a small room such as hers would have all the basic materials: a small bed, a sink, a closet, a shrine, a table and two tatami mats. Oh yeah, you ought to praise my eyes for being sharp because her room's only light is coming from a large, yellow candle placed on top of the closet. Or maybe I don't really have a 20-20 vision. Maybe I'm just used on my room being dark all the time.
"Don't you pay electric bills?"
"I never missed." she said triumphantly as if it was the greatest accomplishment, "It's just that I am saving my money."
"You're cheap."
"Keep that to yourself. I am only being practical."
When I didn't reply she spoke again, "Sooo... What do you want to talk about? Be quick because I still have to do my laundry."
Oh. Good. I almost forgot. Her shabby lifestyle, I admit, gave me sort-lived distraction.
"Do you have a formal garb?"
She looked down at her clothing: her pink top and pencil-cut skirt, stretching her arms diagonally. "Like this?"
"Go shop for decent clothes. Buy a dress. Get a life."
She glared at me but it turned to surprise when I tossed my credit card to her.
"Don't worry. That won't come off your service fee."
I actually felt ultimately superiour when I said that line.
"You're giving this to me?"
I glared her. "I'm letting you borrow it."
Her eyes gleamed considerably and cupped her cheeks.
"Can I buy furnishings for my house too?"
"Who do you think I am, your sugar daddy? Do buy your own stuffs when you receive your pay."
"I thought you were rich! How come you can be so cheap?!"
I deadpanned her. "I am a professional business man and a pro like me use money sagaciously."
"So not! There are a lot of rich people who spend money as if they have a factory of it!"
"Amateurs spend their money stupendously lousy to brag off.
She pouted. A kind of pout in which the lips were as long as an inch.
I guess that's her way of admitting defeat.
"Still, I think you're cheap..."
And from here. I felt like I need to think of my escape plan for I've got a gut feeling that she was hoping that I would let her buy her furnishings by doing her futile attempt to trample my pride.
—So I just wrote on a piece of paper my brief instructions for my plan.
Kyoto Imperial Palace – 20:00
Dress Elegantly. ACCORDINGLY.
- - -
—Mikan—
My black and pink Vodaphone slash Samsung... The remaining precious (not to mention pricey) thing of mine... just got whammed into a wall—a dear project of mine.
Please don't get angry. I love Vodaphones but at this time, junk mails annoy a hell lot of me. It's for the effin-th time already! I usually appreciate them, because I want my cell phone to beep at least once a day (no one's emailing me) but not now! Not when I am anticipating a call from Hyuuga Natsume!
A sound from my cell phone came.
I don't know if it's an email or incoming call because they have the same tune.
Remind me later to vary it, okay? For now, I need to amble to my cell phone.
"It better be not a junk mail that offers increase in breast size!" I thought loudly as I picked up my phone and momentarily extol it for being durable.
My eye twitched as I read the name of the one who is making an incoming call—although I also felt relieved.
It's about time!
I modulated my voice and practiced my most annoyed tone.
"Hyuu—"
"You! You stupid woman! Where the hell are you?!" that Hyuuga just happened to scream at my ear.
I flinched for a second or two and then tweaked my poor infected ear. "Excuse me?! Aren't I the one who supposed to be asking that?! You're supposed to fetch me here! At my house!"
"You mean you're still at your house?! Stupid! Whatever gave you the idea that I'm fetching you?!"
"Hello?! You invited me! It's common sense!"
"Then what do you think is the purpose of giving you the dammed paper?!"
"...I don't know..."
"Tsk. Forget it! Get here! Now!"
"Wa—Wait! How?!"
"Don't you know how to use public transportation, dim—"
I hanged.
That son of a b—butterfly!
Public Transportation?!
On a dress?!
On a formal gathering on Kyoto Imperial Palace?!
With MY own money?!
How could he?!
Oh... right. I nearly forgot.
He's Hyuuga Natsume... the most sought after bachelour.
And I am at his service.
- - -
Author's
Note :
...And
my ideas kinda derailed there. It's a mystery that when I feel like
writing, my state of thinking is hazy. BTW, I changed my penname.
From "Meiko Kairi" to "Mistress Symphony"
Edited
as of 12/22/07 – Waaa!! The worst grammar ever! XD
I
think I have no face to face a friend of mine who asks beta help from
me! OH what shame!
How was it? Good? Bad? Felt nothing? Share it with me. Keeping thoughts to yourself may cause stress and headache. ;)
Happy Holidays!
Sym-chan
R & R Corner
Since that the "fad" in this fandom is thanking reviewers by posting their "nom de plume", (I wonder why) I might as well do it. XD
A hearty thanks to: fox-white-moon, Amaterazu Setsuko, Nadeshiko-hime, tuticuttie, Khaos-chan, babeemei, denii05, mai-chii, natsumikan023
REVIEW : ..."...you were kidding about the one year thing, right?..."...
REPLY : I wasn't but apparently I couldn't resist not updating this fic. My ideas came rushing in.
To Khaos-chan: Aren't you an author from the Ouran fandom? You write HikaruxHaruhi right? Anyways, thanks for reviewing.