A/N: The first time I uploaded this chapter, I was still a senior in high school, prepping for graduation. Now, I've actually graduated, I'm all set for college – classes, check! Dorm room, check! Roommate, check! – and it's right around my nineteenth birthday. :D

Okay guys, this is the last chapter that needed fixing, so after this, it's going to be all new content. I'm pretty pumped about writing it, and I appreciate all of your guys' patience for letting me fix the first few chapters. 3

Anyways, onto this chapter! It's still a bit slow in light of how the last chapter ended, but it was always my intention to set things up for the third chapter, where things REALLY start picking up. But, this one was a necessary chapter to write, because it focuses on the rest of the main characters. So, hopefully, fans of the other Mew Mews will enjoy it.

That being said, on with the story!


Chapter 2: Reminiscence

The sun shone brightly from its lofty perch in the bright blue sky, warming the Earth so that it was warm enough to be outside without anything heavier than a light jacket. The rain from the previous night had long since evaporated, removing any puddles from the pavements and roads. The only reminder that it had even rained at all was the faint scent of damp earth on the gentle breeze. Beautiful weather seemed to breathe new life into the city, invigorating and encouraging its citizens to step out of their offices or homes and revel in the warmer temperature.

Of course, no one took advantage of this fine weather better than the city's children. At Daikan Elementary School, the joyous squeals and laughter of children rang clearly in the air as classes were dismissed for the morning. This joy seemed to escalate as the children discovered the playground equipment and blacktops were fully dried, creating the perfect conditions for play…

…or rather, for a performance.

"…and now, gather 'round and watch, everyone! Presenting-for your eyes only-a special springtime performance, na no da!"

The usual sound of children at play was interrupted by a sudden burst of applause and cheering as the children abandoned their previous activities and hurried to the blacktop, all eyes focused on one of their fellow classmates. She was a diminutive girl with blonde hair tied up into sloppy pigtails; currently she was occupied with rolling her sleeves up well past her elbows. Judging by the lapels on her uniform, the child in question was from the fourth grade bamboo class* - but only a newcomer to the school would have required seeing this to identify her. After all, she was probably one of the most famous children in the entire school.

Grinning madly, Purin Fong withdrew from behind her back two sets of objects; the first a stack of gleaming white porcelain plates and the second a tightly wrapped package of thin wooden sticks. The audience members began to whisper amongst themselves, wondering what exactly she had planned for this "special springtime performance".

Oh, and what a surprise she would give them! "Here I go!" the tiny blonde declared, and within seconds three delicate plates were sent spinning into the air. In the time it took the plates to ascend and begin to fall, Purin was ready, and with a gentle chorus of chimes, each plate came to rest on a spinning rod – one right on top of the other, creating a rotating stack of plates balanced perfectly on one fingertip. She was greeted with several "oohs" and "aahs", but the vast majority of her audience knew better – they knew that this was just a warm-up. They were quite right; barely moving the arm which held the plates, Purin seized three more plates and repeated the process, this time balancing them upon her other hand.

"Now watch this, no da!" Purin exclaimed cheerfully as she gave a quick flick of her wrists, sending both stacks of plates into the air with perfect precision before dropping down to the ground in a handstand - effectively catching both stacks on the balls of her feet, without even the faintest shiver of imbalance. Applause erupted from the crowd as Purin slowly shifted her weight, now balancing on only one hand. "Too easy!" Purin laughed as she quickly switched her arms back and forth, reveling in the cheers from her audience. "Now for the big finish!" Purin declared, and the crowd fell silent. She waited, counting in her mind - after all, it was best to keep the audience waiting in suspense. Three, two, one…

And then, she suddenly performed a back-flip, sending the stack of plates sailing into the air. She was suddenly a flurry of motion, a blur of gray uniform and blonde hair she caught each and every plate and rod as they fell around her. It was a rather simple feat, one she had learned to master at the tender age of three, and within seconds, she had collected each plate in two perfect stacks and righted herself, all signs of prior activity vanishing instantly. Oh, how they applauded! Simple trick or not, the cheering crowd was music to her ears as she swooped down in a dramatic bow, grinning from ear to ear.

"Do it again! Do it again!"

"Purin-chan, that was amazing!"

"Encore! Encore!"

"Thank you, thank you, na no da!" Purin sang as she quickly set her materials down, rising quickly. "But that was just the warm-up, ladies and gentlemen! It's time for my next trick!"

And so she performed for them, the cheers and applause growing as she showcased her abilities; martial arts of both Chinese and other Asian origins, gymnastics, juggling balls (a rather dull routine in her opinion; she'd been prohibited from bringing her throwing knives into the school) and so forth. It had been quite some time since she'd gotten the chance to perform outdoors due to inclement winter weather that just wouldn't disappear, but her skills were no worse for wear. Truly, she was at her best, and as the break reached its end and she completed an absolutely beautiful ball routine, she had the crowd begging for more…and she hadn't even broken a sweat!

"Thank you, thank you, na no da! And now, for my final trick!" Purin declared as she withdrew from her sleeve a long, wooden stick, one end burnt to a smoldering, ashen crisp. If the crowd loved her now, then just wait until they saw her final act! "Never before seen by the public eye, Purin presents, for special audiences only, her super-special extra spicy Sichuan FIRE BREATHING, na no da!"* A raucous cheer erupted from the crowd as they staggered backwards, away from the girl as she struck the stick as hard as she could against the pavement, igniting the tip in a smoky blaze. Absolutely glowing with pride and anticipation, Purin took a deep breath, holding the flaming stick at arm's length away, fully prepared to thrill her audience one final time as she exhaled…

…only to find the flame dying before her eyes. The stick was doused with a sudden downpour of cold water, putting out the fire and leaving soggy cinders. A sudden hush came upon her audience. Some of them wearily stepping away, their eyes trained on something directly behind Purin. Baffled, Purin glanced upwards. There she saw the saboteur of her grand finale; a metal bucket. It was held aloft by an older woman, who bore slightly graying hair, wrinkles, and a stern expression.

A great, huge grin spread across Purin's face. "Nanaka-sensei!" She said happily, completely forgetting the fact that her principal had just ruined one of her greatest performances to date.

Sighing, Miss Nanaka gave Purin a bemused, yet tired smile. "Hello, Purin-san. You've resumed performing, I assume?"

"Nanaka-sensei saw it? I'm so happy!" Purin exclaimed jubilantly, eyes glowing. Behind her, the tension in the crowd seemed to instantly dissipate as several of Purin's fourth grade classmates snickered and giggled amongst themselves. Seeing as this was not Purin's first confrontation with the principal of their school, there seemed little chance that she was in any real trouble.

Illustrating this point, Miss Nanaka turned to the rest of the students, still smiling. "I'm sure we've all enjoyed Purin-san's performance, but break is over now. Please say your thanks quickly and return to your classes - come on now, no complaining. You know the drill," she said kindly but sternly as some students whined and groaned. As the students began to disperse, Miss Nanaka turned back to Purin, who was gathering up her performance equipment. "Purin-san, do you need some help with that?" she offered, eying the odd assortment of props and wondering how the girl had managed to bring a full-sized circus ball into the building. But the small blonde girl shook her head, even though her arms were very close to spilling over.

"Mm-mm! Purin's fine, na no da!"

Smiling, Miss Nanaka knelt down and offered her arms. "You'd better let me handle some, or else you might drop something fragile." Purin considered this for a moment, then reluctantly agreed, handing her teacher the lightest – and thankfully what appeared to be the least dangerous – of the equipment. "That was quite a performance you put on for us, Purin-san," she continued as the two made their way towards the building, "You truly have a gift."

Purin's eyes alighted with renewed joy. She'd been praised! How she loved being praised! Her voice took on a haughty tone as she said, "The nasty winter weather's finally gone away, and it's been ages since I performed outside, but that didn't matter! That was actually one of my best performances, if I do say so myself, right up to the finale! Only," she added with a hesitant laugh, "the finale didn't quite end the way I expected it to. I was supposed to breathe fire, and I'm really good at that, but my flame went out…"

"Yes…which reminds me," Miss Nanaka continued, frowning slightly as she eyed the sopping wet fire stick, "Purin-san, that stunt is too dangerous to be performed in school. I'm sorry, but you can't bring that here anymore, and I'll have to confiscate it for today."

"What? Why?" Purin halted, turning to her teacher, her once jubilant expression replaced with a disheartened look. "Nanaka-sensei-"

"It's too dangerous to keep in your backpack, Purin-san. What if another student took it from your bag and played with it?"

"I'd never let that happen, no da! Don't worry, I won't let anyone else touch it unless I've trained them myself, na no da!"

"I'm truly sorry, but I'm afraid I must insist," Miss Nanaka said with an apologetic look as she held out her hand, which Purin eyed as if it were a vicious snake. "Don't worry; I'll only need to keep it until the end of the day. Then you can have it back, if you promise not to bring it back to school again, just like your knives," she said with a smile. "It needs to dry anyway, doesn't it?"

Purin sighed, but then surrendered the stick. "Nanaka-sensei better take good care of it, na no da!" She said sternly, but quickly broke into a smile. "Especially since sensei's not trained to handle that kind of equipment!"

"Of course," her teacher nodded, now regarding the piece of charred timber as if it would spontaneously combust at any second in her inexperienced hands. Holding it as far from her body as she could, she turned back to Purin, balancing the props she carried in one hand so she could ruffle the blonde's head playfully. "Honestly, what am I going to do with you? First knives, now this…"

"'Never be afraid to take risks.' That's what Father said, na no da!" Purin stated proudly. "That applies to martial arts and performing, no da! And besides, everyone likes it when I perform the dangerous stunts!"

Miss Nanaka said nothing, as she always did when the topic of Purin's family came up. It was not her place to say it, but she truly wondered what kind of father this man was if he allowed his daughter to play with sharp, flammable objects. "I understand that you've been trained to handle things like this, but in school, things like that just aren't allowed," Miss Nanaka said as they continued towards class. "Purin-san, you're truly a wonderful student. You're one of the brightest, most studious in your class – now, I'm fine with your performing at recess, as long as it is safe, but you must promise not to bring in anything that…someone unlike you couldn't handle," she said, choosing her words carefully. "Understood?"

Purin nodded exuberantly. "M-hm! I understand! No more fire breathing – I have plenty of other tricks I can use, anyways, na no da! Not as cool as fire-breathing, but I'll come up with something!"

"That's my girl. Now, hurry off to class now – Asai-sensei will wonder where you are. Good luck in your studies, now."

"Yes, ma'am!" Purin said cheerfully as she bounded off, clutching her circus equipment close at hand. "And don't worry, I'll come up with a better finale just for you, na no da!" she sang as she hurried away. Miss Nanaka gave her a faint little wave in return, then turned her attention back towards the confiscated prop, wondering where in her office she had put the fire extinguisher – just in case.


The hands on the clock finally struck three, and instantly the classroom was filled with sounds; the sliding of chairs on tile as students rose from their seats, the clattering of desks and rustling of papers as they returned their notebooks and textbooks to their rightful place (some with more reckless abandon than others) drowned out their teachers' final comments to be safe in their travels home. The clamber of footsteps running up and down staircases echoed in the hallways as students hurried from their homerooms to their footlockers, changing as fast as they possibly could.

All the while, the male populace of the school watched the scene with casual indifference, taking care not to get in any charging girl's way.

For the girls, their destination was not home but the gymnasium, where the kendo club was currently engaged in practice. The girls quickly scuffled into the building and raced to get the best seats, crowding near the bleacher railings and nearly spilling over onto the court below. Some of the smaller girls even attempted to crawl underneath their taller classmates, trying their best not to get stepped on as they struggled to catch a glimpse of the team's star player.

"…Point!"

Anyone passing by the gymnasium would have just as well assumed there was a sudden earthquake; the cheers and screams of joy from the crowd were just one decibel shy of shaking the ceiling's rafters and lights. The tumultuous noise escalated further every time Masaya received a point against him.

"Aoyama-kuuuuun!"

"Go for it, Aoyama-san!"

"Aoyama-san is so cool!"

"You can beat him, Masaya-kun!" (This girl was smacked for using such familiarity.)

"Oi!" One female voice cried out from the sidelines, as Moe's blonde head whipped around angrily to glare at the squabbling girls directly behind her. "Put a sock in it, will you! I can barely hear myself THINK let alone talk!" Sighing in frustration, Moe turned and said crossly as she inserted a pinky into her ear, wriggling it, "I mean really, the nerve of those girls! The team's trying to practice and they're making all this noise!"

"We're really no better," Miwa commented to Retasu and Ichigo, who were seated next to each other on the bench. "I think you nearly flew the last time you stood to cheer." Moe turned, a sour look on her face as Ichigo and Retasu giggled.

"You're one to talk, Miss 'I-Won-Most-School-Spirit-On-My-Cheerleading-Squad'! And you're just as bad, if not worse, as me! You practically jumped out of your seat the last time he scored a point!"

"Point!" came the coach's cry, and instantly both girls were up on their feet, their argument forgotten, clasping hands and cheering enough to rival the girls behind them. Ichigo and Retasu exchanged humored looks as they turned their attention back towards the practice match. Masaya had just one more point to make to win this scrimmage, and while his opponent was only a point behind him, it did not seem like victory would be difficult to obtain.

A minute more, and it was within his grasp. "Point! Match over!" The coach's final call was inaudible as a raucous cheer went up through the crowd, achieving that last decibel and rattling the rafters just slightly. Ichigo was on her feet as well, a towel in hand as she hurried over to Masaya, who had just removed his helmet.

"Here you go," she said as she handed Masaya the towel, which he took with a tired but thankful nod of gratitude. "How many more match-ups do you have?"

"At least one," Masaya said breathily, "against Takaguchi-san, and depending on how much time is left, Yamada-san. But it shouldn't be much longer. Thank you for the towel," he said again as his coach called for him. "See you in a bit," he called over his shoulder as he went to join his teammates. Ichigo smiled and hurried back to the bench, tossing the used towel in the hamper on her way and trying her best to ignore the peculiar mixture of looks she was getting, both in admiration and in envy.

"Don't look now, but they're totally staring at you," Moe said, resting her chin on her hand as she leaned back in her seat, 'Really, you'd think that things would have gotten better in high school, but even after a year they're still jealous of you!"

"Nearly half of the girls here came from our junior high," Miwa pointed out, "and then you've got the girls who started crushing on him as soon as he walked through the door."

"Well, they can stare all they want," Ichigo said simply, crossing her legs and sitting up straight, "but nothing's going to change."

"You do realize that the majority of the girls in this school think they're better suited for him, don't you? Of course, I gave 'em a piece of my mind for that, but that's beside the point," Moe remarked, leaning towards Ichigo with a stern look on her face, "And the instant you two break up, they'll pounce on him!"

"Oh, knock it off," Ichigo frowned, pushing Moe away and giving her a reproachful look, "Nothing like that's going to happen. Masaya and I are staying together, no matter what people say or think."

"You two have been together for two years now," Retasu commented, patting Ichigo's shoulder gently. "And you certainly have been through quite a bit together." (Which, both thought to themselves, was quite a huge understatement, but they'd keep that little secret to themselves.)

"That's my girl," Moe said proudly, slapping Ichigo whole-heartedly on the back, causing her to lurch forward in her seat. "Of course, they're practically conjoined at the hip anyways, so the day that these two break it off will be the day the Apocalypse happens."

"That was…rather poetic," Retasu said slowly, a bit concerned for the state of Ichigo's health. "Are you alright, Ichigo?"

"Why does everything have to be violent with you?" Ichigo groaned as she shot a look at Moe, who merely waved her off and told her to be quiet; the next match was about to start.


She moved with ineffable grace. Her hands glided gently through the air, fingers held aloft in the daintiest of ways. Her long, slender legs moved noiselessly as she danced, her feet barely touching the floor as she performed a graceful jeté, landing soundlessly and sliding into a beautiful arabesque.

All the while, her eyes were closed, and that made her dance all the better. When she closed her eyes, she could see everything so much better – she saw the music that carried her with its beautiful melody, dancing around her, with her; she saw the lights of the stage, and almost felt it shining upon her. It was so much better to visualize her surroundings than to actually see them for what they were; a plain, boring studio.

And so she danced, as the music built to a crescendo, she began to pirouette, spinning fast enough that she heard the wind in her ears. But it wasn't fast enough; she pushed further, until she could barely hear the music. All she could hear was the wind, and for a moment, it almost felt like flying…

…and then the moment ended, and as the last chords of the piano was struck, she sank into a graceful split, hands extended in front of and behind her, her head bent so low it almost touched the glossy floor.

There was silence for only a moment, then applause. The illusion of the stage faded as Minto opened her eyes, as her real surroundings washed over her; a large ballet studio with mirrors covering every inch of wall, with one wall occupied by her fellow dancers. Those who were younger were absolutely star-struck, and their eyes glowed as they clapped noisily; her older classmates, though not as much as her younger ones, also seemed quite impressed, and their eyes showed that they had expected nothing else from their fellow ballerina.

"Bravissimo, Aizawa-san," the instructor, a fair young woman dressed in a mint green leotard and flowing skirt said as she approached, extending a hand to help Minto to her feet. "That was truly inspiring–I'd expect nothing less from our class's prima ballerina."

"Thank you," Minto said, bowing her head in thanks.

"Really, all you need to do now is perfect your routine through daily practicing, and it will be the perfect end to our recital in May." The teacher smiled warmly at her student. "You're dance is truly beautiful, Minto-san. Whenever you dance, it's as if you're flying–like a swan." The teacher then briskly turned, clapping her hands. "That is all for today, everyone. Remember, practice tomorrow will commence an hour earlier and end an hour earlier as well, so plan accordingly. Thank you everyone."

"Thank you, Ashihara-sensei," the students replied as they stood and bowed in unison before hurrying off to gather their things from the locker room. Minto lingered back a moment, waiting for the worst of the crowd (the younger students, of course) to exit, and then followed.

It's as if you're flying – like a swan. That was what the instructor had said. It was a compliment she had received happily – as kind as Ashihara-sensei was, those kinds of compliments were rare and few in between. It showed to her, to everyone, that she had achieved a level of expertise that other ballerinas struggled to achieve. It showed how much she had grown.

It had been a long two years for the blue-haired girl, one paved with a lot of sacrifice, tears, and recitals – not to mention some occasional bruises and a sprained ankle, but at last her dream-her goal of becoming a prima ballerina known world-wide-was finally drawing closer. And now, with this next recital's routine proceeding just as planned, that dream was literally in her grasp.

Still…Ballet's not the same as really being able to fly…like I used to.

She hesitated at her locker, wondering why she had thought about that now, of all times. It was a thought she hadn't entertained for a very, very long time; her ballet career took up too much of that. It wasn't as if she missed being a Mew-Mew. Far from it; being a Mew-Mew had only hindered her prospective ballet career, and it had nearly cost her a removal from her previous ballet school. But now here she was, dancing better than anyone in her class – in the absence of chimera anima attacks and having to leave practices early to go work at the Café, her ballet had not only improved: it had absolutely flourished.

Still, Minto couldn't help but admit as she gathered her things and changed her clothes, she had missed that tiny, upscale advantage of being endowed with the genes of a bird. That had given her a special edge of grace to her dance, and it made her dance all the more beautifully. But the natural talent she'd been building since that time seemed much more meaningful, and made the work she put into it a lot more special. So why worry about it? She thought with finality, waving away the pesky thought as she hoisted her bag over her shoulder and made her way towards the exit.

She paused and took in a deep breath of air, savoring the fresh air. As much as she loved to dance, being cooped up in a studio for two and a half hours did wear on her after awhile. Still, she felt energized despite the lengthy practice, and she was practically dancing down the stairs as she made her way to the sidewalk, where her car was waiting. Beside it, her nursemaid stood, along with a small Pomeranian who, as soon as he saw Minto, leapt from the older woman's side and raced to his owner.

"Miki!" Minto said happily as she scooped up the dainty dog in a gentle hug. "How's my boy doing?"

"Good evening, ojyo-sama*," the nursemaid said politely, opening the car door and stepping forward to take Minto's bag from her. "I trust you had a good practice?"

"Yes, thank you. Don't worry, I got it." Minto said as she gently refused the help, balancing her bag on one shoulder and Miki in the crook of her other arm. With that, she gently tossed the bag onto the seat next to her before sliding into the car. She waited until the elderly woman was seated in front before asking, after a moment's consideration, "Were there any calls when I was gone?"

"None, ojyo-sama," the nursemaid shook her head as she took her seat in the front. "Were you expecting a call from someone? I didn't know."

"Oh, not really," Minto lied as she fished her cell phone out of her bag and flipped it open. A small pout tugged at her lips before she flipped the phone closed with a sigh – there were no new messages either. She must be working late today, Minto thought as she quickly typed another message and sent it, before turning her attention towards Miki, who was pawing her arm for attention. But then again, she's been just as busy as I have.


She was running for her life.

Rain pounded all around her, soaking through her clothes and chilling her skin, creating a thick wall of water that she could barely navigate through. Her breath came in quick, panicking bursts as she chanced a glance behind her in the pitch-black alley, which suddenly lit up in white hot light as lighting crackled overhead. Seeing no one there, she turned to look ahead –

She barely skidded to a stop in time to avoid the massive man that suddenly appeared before her, arms reaching out menacingly to grab her. Thinking quickly, she darted down another alley to her left, slipping on the soggy earth as she ran and knocking trash cans over in her attempt to slow her pursuer down. She could hear him swear as one trash can caused him to stumble, giving her time to sprint around another corner.

Her legs were throbbing with fatigue, and her sides ached from lack of air, but she couldn't stop; they'd find her all too quickly, and then it would be over. She had to keep moving – she had to warn the others of what was happening, of the danger that lay waiting, ready to strike them all down. She couldn't let things end here, with the knowledge of what was about to happen to them all dying along with her. No – it just couldn't end like this!

Her sapphire eyes widened in horror as two other men appeared at the end of the alley, and she froze. Her head whipped around, searching for an escape, as the man from before suddenly rounded the corner, approaching at a brisk pace. Suddenly, she saw it, illuminated by another crack of lightning; a fire escape ladder. With a leap, she grabbed the highest rung and climbed, her feet slipping on the wet metal as she climbed, barely missing a greedy hand reaching up to snatch her foot.

She cleared the fire escape, escaping to the rooftop of some obscure building, and collapsed to her knees. Her breath coming in sharp gasps, she dared to peer over the edge of the building, and was startled to find her pursuers were not following; they had vanished into thin air, seemingly. Not wanting to miss this chance to escape, she got to her feet, when she heard the click of a revolver loading. With a cry of shock, she turned, her entire body freezing when she saw the man before her, aiming the gun directly at her chest.

"Give it up, child." The dark voice that spoke sent a bone-chilling shiver down her spine. "You've nowhere to run, and nowhere to hide. Such a shame – you could have been such an asset to our plans. But my mistress did decree that all who stand in our way must be eliminated. Au-revoir."

The deafening sound of gunfire was nearly drowned out by a clap of thunder, and the man watched with a sick smile as the lightning illuminated her limp body collapsing to the ground like a discarded doll. Holstering his gun, he strolled casually over to her, admiring the way her obsidian hair flowed around her like a halo. Her sapphire eyes gazed lifelessly up at her killer, who merely shrugged and said, "One down…four to go."

"….and…CUT! That's a wrap, everyone! Clear the set!"

All at once, the rain ceased to exist, its last few drops hitting the ground as the sprinklers were shut off. The pitch-black sky suddenly was illuminated with light, revealing the ceiling of the set building they were in. Simultaneously, there was a flurry of movement as assistants and make-up artists swarmed the stage. The sinister villain stooped down, hand extended, saying, "That was fantastic, Fujiwara-san."

Zakuro, who mere seconds before was the very definition of dead, suddenly blinked and sat up, accepting the hand graciously. "Thank you," she said with a small smile as she stood, following her fellow actor off of the fake building they'd been shooting on. They were joined in a few minutes by Zakuro's agent, a tall woman dressed smartly in a red business suit, and a younger assistant carrying several towels.

"Good job today, you two!" the latter said cheerfully as she handed a towel to each actor before turning to Zakuro, "Fujiwara-san, you nearly had me in tears. If I didn't know any better, I'd have really thought Ochiro-san had really killed you!"

"That's my girl for you," Zakuro's manager grinned, ruffling the girl's sopping wet hair as they made their way off the set, "She didn't just get the part for her good looks, you know! She's got talent like no one else on this set! No offense, Ochiro," she added off-handedly towards the male actor, who merely shrugged and headed towards his trailer. "I'm telling you, Zakuro, your performance will make this the best sci-fi thriller Japan has seen in years!"

Zakuro, who had been waving goodbye to Ochiro, rolled her eyes and smiled. "It's only a minor appearance. I'm only in the film for the first half-hour."

"But your part is the most powerful one!" The assistant pressed, offering another towel, which Zakuro used for her hair. "Your character's death sets the stage for the rest of the movie – you, the wise elder-sister type who everyone looks up to is shot down mercilessly, leaving her teammates to face the enemy alone! It's going to be a great movie because your character makes such a powerful impression! How on Earth do you do it?"

Zakuro smiled, somewhat slyly, as she wrapped the towel around her shoulders. "Let's just say I've had a bit of experience with that type of role."

"Alright, alright, enough idle chit-chat, Tanaka," the manager said, "The cast is going out to eat tonight to celebrate the first successful week of shooting, and I severely doubt you want to go in that outfit," she said, gesturing towards the soaking wet, bloodstained ensemble. "I've got a new one hanging up in your trailer. We've got about twenty minutes before everyone leaves. I'll be waiting by the car."

"Alright, we'll hurry," Zakuro said as she and Tanaka made their way outside. The Hong Kong air was illuminated by the lights of the city, darkening the towering skyscrapers surrounding the set. All around the set, workers, actors, and technicians were rushing about, though one or two stopped to congratulate Zakuro on a successful shoot before hurrying off to close up the set for the day.

Once inside Zakuro's trailer, Tanaka made sure the door was shut before turning to Zakuro. "Alright, please remove your shirt, Fujiwara-san." she said politely. Zakuro nodded, easily sliding out of the wet, blood-stained fabric. Fastened tightly around her chest was a large packet of fake blood, which still oozed a tiny bit whenever Zakuro moved. "Shoot," Tanaka muttered as she scurried behind Zakuro to unfasten the belt buckle, "it looks like this one detonated too early."

"I thought it did," Zakuro said, using a towel to wipe off any excess make-up on her body. "It soaked all the way through to my bra," she added a bit disdainfully.

"Don't worry, a run through the wash will fix that," Tanaka said cheerfully, turning respectfully away from Zakuro so she could remove her pants, "and at least now you don't ever have to wear this outfit for the rest of the film. And later on this week, we shoot your big 'resurrection' scene, and you get to wear this costume," Tanaka said, gesturing towards an intricate white dress hanging from the clothing rack. "You'll look stunning in it, I know."

"Tanaka-san, would you mind telling my manager I'm almost ready? I need to change now," Zakuro said politely.

I have to get rid of this thing anyways," Tanaka said as she waved the dripping blood packet in her hand. Grinning, she bounded out of the trailer, wet clothes in hand, closing the door tightly behind her. Zakuro heaved a sigh of relief as soon as she was sure she was gone. As much as the girl meant well, it nevertheless tired her to deal with her constant fawning over her - it always made her feel a bit uncomfortable. Sighing, she hurriedly changed clothes, redid her make-up, and tied her wet hair in a loose ponytail before shutting of the lights of her trailer, locking it, and joining her agent at the car.

"You got a text today while you were filming," her agent said, handing Zakuro her cell phone as they fastened their seatbelts, "I think it's from that Aizawa girl."

"Mm," Zakuro nodded as she read the message ("Haven't heard from you in awhile. Let me know how filming is going!") before typing a quick reply herself. ("Going to dinner. Will call later. Busy day.") Her manager sighed.

"Really, that girl is almost as crazy about you as that Tanaka. Is that what you meant when you said you had 'experience' playing the big sister role?"

"Something like that." Zakuro said, turning from her agent to watch the city pass them by as they drove. She wasn't exactly telling a lie – she just wasn't telling her the whole truth. After all, admitting that she was a retired super-heroine who once protected the world from alien invasion was a laughable statement, if not utterly unbelievable.

It was a bit ironic, though, that her first film debut starred her as one of five crime fighters who were trying to uncover a hidden conspiracy regarding environmental destruction. Of course, when Zakuro had inquired about it, her agent said it had no relation to the events of two years ago in Japan, with the appearance of the Mew-Mews and the aliens – but then again, her agent seemed to deny the very existence of anything like that.

"I was a bit worried that you wouldn't want to take the part. I mean, it's a minor role, like you said, but even so," her agent said with a smile, "you're pulling it off with aplomb, Zakuro. For your first world-premiere film, I'd have to say you're doing better than any other actress I've had the pleasure of working with. It's definitely going to pave the way for future films, that's for sure. Every little bit counts!"

"Enough flattery," Zakuro said curtly, though kindly, "It's been a long day."

Her agent nodded, and Zakuro returned her gaze back towards the city, letting her mind wander. Her agent was right…if this film (however poorly written the script was; it had a lot of action sequences, including the scene they'd just filmed, comprising the majority of the plot) did well in the box office, she'd surely become more popular as an up-and-coming actress, which meant more directors would look her way. And even if the film didn't do well, the publicity it would receive would surely draw some eyes to her. Regardless of what would happen, everything was going to change very soon.

The car coasted to a slow stop in the downtown area, and soon Zakuro found herself looking directly across the way towards the massive television screen in the center of downtown, where the local news was being broadcasted. For a moment, Zakuro simply stared at the screen, not really paying attention to the newscaster…that is, until the next segment came up.

For a moment, Zakuro couldn't believe what she was seeing. Despite having the air-conditioning on, her hand flew towards the car door to roll down the window. As the window fell away and warm evening air caressed her face, she could clearly make out the Japanese subtitles that ran across the bottom of the screen, and the face broadcasted above them as well.

"… The exhibition and commencement address will begin this coming Friday at the Museum of Natural History in New York City. Ryou Shirogane-san is the son of the late professor Jishou Shirogane-san, who passed away tragically several years ago while conducting research in the same field. Shirogane-san says that his current research is founded on the findings of his father and Keiichiro Akasaka-san, who served as Jishou Shirogane-san's assistant up until his passing. Their findings have caused quite a stir recently in the scientific community, and according to some reports, may very well revolutionize the field of environmental science and conservation as we know it…"

"Hey, Zakuro, roll up the window! It's throwing off the AC," her manager said, having finally noticed the open window, just as the light turned green and the car inched away from the intersection, just as the image of Ryou and Keiichiro vanished from the screen.


The coach had indeed decided that more practice was needed that evening, and by the time that Masaya had finished his match with Yamada, the first golden rays of sunset were streaming through the windows. By the time that the group of friends reached the school gates, it was almost six o'clock. Moe quickly bid the group a hasty goodbye at the school gates before hurrying off; her parents had a very important business meeting to attend, and she was responsible for looking after her baby brother once more.

"You'd better do your homework tonight, Ichigo," Moe called out as she hastily made her way down the sidewalk, "because there's no way I'm gonna finish mine!"

"Maybe if you did your homework instead of watching T.V. after babysitting, you'd get it done!" Ichigo retorted, to which Moe laughingly replied, "Hey, a working girl has her priorities!"

Not long after, Miwa headed off in the direction of the grocery store ("I'm in charge of dinner tonight – my mom's working late, and Dad will probably want to eat as soon as I get home. I'll see you tomorrow!") Retasu left the group not long after that, saying that she too had an errand to run as well. "Have a safe trip home!" she said, bowing politely before making her leave.

Now it was just Ichigo and Masaya once more, and the two of them reveled in the privacy by holding hands as they made their way down the street.

"I'm sorry practice took so long today," Masaya apologized as they went. "My coach is really adamant about this match coming up – he says it's going to determine our rank in the tournament."

"It's alright, I understand," Ichigo said with a smile, leaning her head on Masaya's shoulder. "And I know you're going to do just fine. I mean, you wiped the floor with Yamada-kun, didn't you?"

Masaya chuckled. "I don't think I did that at all," he said, as Ichigo raised an incredulous eyebrow.

"You scored a head point within the first few seconds, didn't you?"

Masaya blushed, running a hand through his hair. "I'm really not that great of a player. There are others who are better than me on the team."

Ichigo shook her head. "You're not giving yourself enough credit, Masaya. You're one of the rising stars of the team – you've already become the team captain, and you're competing in a higher rank at the tournament. Everybody knows how good you are." She chose not to say that he was also the most popular kendo player; Masaya never cared much for having all those girls cheering around him, he had once confessed. It made it very difficult to concentrate, especially whenever he made a mistake and they made it sound as if he'd been dealt a fatal knife wound. That was why she was always subdued at his scrimmages, so he could concentrate better on his matches. But no matter what, I'll always be cheering for you the loudest of them all at the tournament, Ichigo promised firmly in her mind.

"You flatter me," he said, bringing her back out of her thoughts by squeezing her hand affectionately. "But thank you, all the same," he added, genuinely smiling.

They walked along in content silence, savoring each other's company and taking in the quieter, subdued crowds passing by. Ichigo's eye meandered across the stores they passed, admiring the window displays briefly before turning her gaze elsewhere. A flash of white and pink caught her attention at last, and she ceased walking when she turned and found that they were in front of a small bakery, whose windows boasted a large, three-tiered cake on display; a closer inspection revealed intricately swirled frosting, dainty pink rosettes all along the edges, and a beautifully ornate crown place on top.

"Oh, wow, look at this cake!" she gawked, pressing a hand against the window. "It almost looks too good to eat!" There were numerous smaller cakes on display as well, in a myriad of soft pink and yellow frostings; a tower of cupcakes was set off to one side, brightly lit with multi-colored sprinkles, and on the opposite side, a tier filled to the brim with colorful fruit tarts. The whole display was very bright and pretty, and also very tantalizing, particularly the strawberry tarts, which she eyed hungrily for a moment.

"It's a wedding cake," Masaya said, having joined Ichigo at the window display. Instantly he recognized the hungry look in her eyes instantly and asked politely, "Would you like to go inside and order something?"

Ichigo instantly came to her senses, standing upright and shaking her head. "Ah! N-no, it's alright! I was just admiring them, that's all!" Which was about as white a lie as she could say, but her parents – and no doubt Masaya's – would scold them for eating a heavy treat before dinner time. "I wouldn't want you to spend the money, anyways – it looks pretty expensive…"

"It's really no trouble," Masaya insisted, "and you haven't eaten anything since lunchtime. But if you really don't want anything…"

"No, no, I'm fine, really," Ichigo insisted, turning back towards the display case and admiring the center cake. "I really was just admiring them, especially this big one. It's really beautiful…and…"

"Hm?" Masaya turned towards Ichigo, who had started to say something else, but paused. After a moment, she finally finished her statement, and as she spoke, a strangely thoughtful look crossed her features.

"…It almost reminds me of something Akasaka-san would make…except his would no doubt be three times bigger and taste ten times better."

"Akasaka-san…oh yes, the young man working with Shirogane-san?" Masaya said. "That's right, you did tell me once that he baked everything the café served."

"Yup," Ichigo said happily, "And he was the best baker I ever knew. I should know, I got to sample everything that he created – cakes, tarts, waffles, muffins, cupcakes…" she said, counting off the items on her fingers. She closed her eyes as she pictured each and every dessert she named, and the young man who seemed to conjure them up like magic. Sighing, she opened her eyes and returned her gaze to the window.

"I wonder…I wonder if he still bakes?" she said, staring wistfully at the desserts. Masaya eyed her curiously, noting the lonely look that had entered her eyes, and gently took her hand.

"You must miss it sometimes," he said after a moment's pause, "working at the café. I know how much it meant to you."

"I was sad to see it closed. One day it was bustling with people, and just like that, it was locked up. And none of us ever found out why," Ichigo said quietly, picturing the pink stone café nestled in its little corner of the park. She imagined the café in its prime, its large wooden doors open wide to all its guests; she imagined the brightly lit interior, with the beautiful ceiling murals casting reflections onto the gleaming, laminated pine floors. The café was always warm and welcoming, the air inside filled with the delightful warmth and smells of freshly baked confectionaries and coffees and teas.

She could easily picture her friends as well: the ever prim and proper Minto, seated at her favorite table in the café, daintily sipping her daily cup of tea, every now and then stealing a secretive and admiring glance towards the register, where the gorgeous yet stoic Zakuro received customers' payments with a solemn, "Thank you, come again,". Then there was Purin, who was once again swinging from the overhanging lamps, or perhaps performing yet another potentially hazardous balancing act with her circus equipment, ignoring Retasu's pleas to be careful as the green-haired girl hurried to clear tables and deliver dirty dishes to the kitchen – as carefully as she possibly could, but nonetheless tripping every now and then, barely catching herself before another set of pricy dishes shattered on the floor.

The image was completed when the girls were joined by Keiichiro, having just emerged from the kitchen with his newest confectionary creation, which would no doubt surpass its predecessor as the greatest cake ever made; his apron would no doubt be smudged and stained beyond repair, but the beaming smile full of pride and joy showed that the older boy did not care in the slightest. And last but not least, there was Ryou, casually leaning against the pink café walls and taking the entire scene in – and on a very rare occasion, he too would smile and join the rest of the group.

"Ichigo?" Masaya's voice filtered in, and the reverie was broken. She looked up into his eyes, smiled and shook her head again.

"You know, despite everything we'd all been through, that place sure had some wonderful memories," she said, a nostalgic tone in her voice. She was right; despite everything that they had all been through –the constant danger Ryou kept reminding them of, the life-threatening, nerve-wracking battles, the endless stream of work pressed upon her (Though it seemed nobody else had to deal with that problem, she thought wryly for a split second) – it was the moments, like the one she was imagining right now, that made her remember how much she loved being there. Café Mew-Mew held so many wonderful memories, enough to surely outweigh the few dark ones of those times – and even then, the bad memories didn't seem so terrible at all. "I wish they could have kept it open."

"I'm sure they had their reasons," Masaya opted, "One can never tell with Shirogane-san, right? He always seemed like an interesting fellow."

"Heh, interesting is one way to look at it," Ichigo scoffed, remembering all too well the blonde's particular eccentricities; constantly pestering her to work harder, her accidental discovery of his tendency to stand around his room shirtless, and nearly kissing her in what he claimed was "the pursuit of science" – though at one time she knew he only did it to scold her. And she didn't even want to think about all the times he kissed her as a cat. "But there were times when he could be a really sweet guy – in his own Ryou way."

She fell silent again for a moment, and then sighed. "As much as he annoyed me, I sometimes wonder what he's up to."

She was lying once again; to be honest, it was a question she would mull over every now and then when her mind wandered. Just as she hadn't set foot in the café for two years, so was the amount of time she'd gone without hearing from either Shirogane or Akasaka – no phone calls, no letters…it was as if they had left her life and the lives of her friends as quickly as they had come into them.

The closing of Café Mew-Mew had also made it difficult for Ichigo to meet with her friends nowadays as well. While the closely knit group of girls did keep in touch as often as they could, it was not quite the same. Zakuro had her career to think of now, and was currently in Hong Kong filming her first motion picture. Likewise, Minto's time was largely consumed by her ballet, and the last Ichigo had heard from her rich friend, she was rehearsing to become the prima ballerina in her upcoming recital. And Purin of course had her family to care for, and now apparently school as well – Retasu had told her the last time she'd seen the hyperactive young girl, she had boasted proudly how she was now back in school.

"Do you ever miss it?" Masaya's voice broke through her thoughts, and when she gave him an inquisitive glance, he continued by saying, "Being a Mew-Mew, I mean. It must still be hard adapting to a normal life, after all that's happened."

"I do miss being at the Café quite a bit," she admitted, "and I do miss being able to see the others. But I'm not unhappy," she said, smiling suddenly and giving Masaya a brief, tight hug. "After all, I have you. I would've never thought I'd still be with you after everything that happened. And now, look at us – we've been together for almost two years now, and I don't think we would've if we hadn't gone through everything we had to face together. And everyone else seems happy with their lives, so I'm happy too," Ichigo said happily.

Masaya smiled, nodding his head and ruffling Ichigo's hair. "Come on," he said, "we should get you home. Your parents will be wondering where you are." As he spoke, one of the streetlights came on beside them, casting a bright circle of light overhead in the dimming sky. Grinning, Ichigo lead Masaya away from the café, hoping their parents wouldn't care about an invitation to have Masaya dine with them tonight, and perhaps help her with her homework. Yes, any moment that she could spend with Masaya, especially after everything they'd gone through…any moment at all was enough to fill the void the empty Café Mew-Mew had left behind. And it was with that thought that she dismissed all sadness and nostalgia from her mind as the two made their way home, leaving the bakery and another perfectly normal school day behind them.


Footnotes

1) Bamboo class = "In Japan, some schools use names rather than numbers for classes. 'Plum tree', 'Bamboo', and 'Pine' are popular class designations." – Taken from The Gentlemen's Alliance Cross, vol.3.

I decided to have Purin attend the same grade school that Ichigo attended in the original series. The high school (tenth through twelfth) is separate from the grade school (first through sixth) and the junior high (seventh through ninth), however. I'm not sure if that's an accurate portrayal of the school system in Japan, so feel free to offer input if you have any.

2) Sichuan = I'm not 100% sure if this is the proper spelling, but Sichuan is a certain flavoring or type of Chinese cuisine. You see it all the time in Chinese buffets and restaurants – apparently it is somewhat spicy.

3) Ojyo-sama = a common title used to address young women of high stature. There's been a couple different ways of spelling this honorific, but this is the spelling used in most English translations that keep the honorific system. This particular spelling was also taken from The Gentlemen's Alliance Cross.

A/N: Actually, this chapter didn't need much fixing after all. Initially, it was my intention to introduce Keiichiro and Ryou into the story in this chapter, but there were already too many character intros, and it was starting to run a bit too long. I fully intend to make up for that in chapter 3, which will consist mostly of our favorite millionaire and his baker friend. :3

Plus, the story is FINALLY gonna pick up after this, as we'll find out just what exactly the Crusaders want with Ryou. Fasten your seatbelts (except not really ^^;), things are finally starting to speed up!

As always, comments, reviews, and critiques are greatly appreciated!