DISCLAIMER: SKIP BEAT! and its associated characters are the creations of Yoshiki Nakamura. This author claims no ownership of Skip Beat or any of its characters. All other rights reserved.

Author's Note: The randomly assigned word for this one-shot was 'Kettle.'


The Kettle

Kyoko woke up one morning and the kettle wasn't working. How odd, she thought. Electric kettles were commonplace in every kitchen and were one of the most reliable appliances anyone could own. They were generally fairly simple, as electronics went. This particular one had been working for at least ten years, possibly as long as fifteen, if Kuon had bought it when he'd first arrived in Japan.

But today it wasn't working. Kyoko hrrrmhed and found a standard kettle for the stove instead, filling it with water and setting it to boil. As she finished cooking breakfast, she was determined to see if the kettle could be fixed. So many people simply threw out things instead of trying to fix them. But Kyoko was the type to repair and repurpose—she saw no reason to get rid of something just because it was old. She would never be one of those people who purchased and used designer clothing just for one season, for example. Even as a well-known film star, she re-wore 'looks.' There were entire fan sites that gushed over the 'boldness' of that choice. Kyoko knew what it was like to be treated like a commodity. She didn't like the idea of being thrown out and replaced with something newer, so she resisted planned obsolescence with a vengeance.

"The electric kettle is broken," she told Kuon as he tucked into the impeccably prepared omelette and toast that Kyoko had cooked for him.

"Oh?" he replied, "Well, no big deal. We can get a new one…"

But Kyoko looked crestfallen. "I…I don't really want a new one, Kuon. I think we should fix this one. It's…it's our kettle." Of course she wanted to repair the kettle. For all she knew, all the kettle needed was something simple. A button replaced, perhaps, or the readjustment of a wire.

Kuon looked puzzled, so Kyoko continued. "It's just…It's worked so hard for us, every day. Do you remember that night we made eggs benedict? And you asked me to stay? I remember watching you fill the teapot with hot water from that kettle…" And it was true: the kettle had made the hot water for the tea that night. It was there the next time he managed to lure her over, and the time after that…and the time after that.

Kuon smiled. Kyoko was sentimental about the oddest things, though she was otherwise a practical person. "But Kyoko…fixing it could actually cost more than simply buying a new one."

"It's just…it seems like such a waste to throw it out," she said, "Not if we can fix it…and…"

It had been ten years since the night of the eggs benedict, but if there was one lesson Kuon had learned about Kyoko, it was that he had to express what he wanted clearly. Picking up his subtle hints were not his beloved's forte, so he had learned that being direct was the best way to communicate with her. On the other side of that coin was the fact that Kyoko rarely articulated what was truly bothering her. Sometimes he could figure it out. That night, he'd noticed her shy glance at the necklace he was wearing, and he correctly surmised that it was bothering her. He never would have noticed if he hadn't been looking for a reaction—he had wondered all evening if she'd been looking at all. The next ten years had been devoted to the study of the inner workings of Kyoko Mogami. Now, after a long courtship, an elaborate wedding, and a torrid honeymoon, he had her where he wanted her: in his bed, his home, and his life, forever and ever.

Oh yes, he thought, she's definitely worried about something. He had a feeling that it was one of those long standing insecurities rearing up its ugly head—one of the monsters she kept struggling with. No one could really fight the battle to save Kyoko's self-esteem except Kyoko herself, but he was determined to be her very best and most loyal ally in that battle.

He reached across the table and covered the hand that had been fidgeting with a fork with his own. "Kyoko, if you want to fix it, then we'll fix it," he said. "Anything for my Kyoko."

She smiled nervously. "I'm glad you won't just throw it away, Kuon."

"Of course not," he smiled. "That one is a good one, too. That company likes to build solid things that last." She moved to take her hand away but he tightened his grip on her wrist lightly, just keeping her there. "Kyoko…what are you really upset about?"

She looked away and blushed. Ten years later, and he would still never tire of Kyoko's blush. "It's silly," she said.

"Nothing that worries you is ever silly," he said. "Tell me." The two of them had had many discussions over the years about what they'd gone through growing up. It still made him mad that the most important people in Kyoko's life had abandoned and betrayed her over and over. When they were married, part of his unspoken vow to her was to make sure she never felt abandoned ever again.

"It's just…" she trailed off. "It's just that…I thought…what if you were the kind of guy that got rid of things when they were a little broken? Like me…I'm older now, but…someday I'll be old and broken like that tea kettle. I kept asking myself if you'd want to replace me with something brand new that worked…"

"Kyoko…" He got up so he could take her in his arms across the table. "First of all, you're 27…and that isn't old. And second of all you're not a tea kettle. But most of all, you are irreplaceable to me. I will never throw you out, and I will never replace you."

He held her tight and kissed her gently on the forehead. "I love you," he said.

Kyoko smiled back at him shyly as she tilted up her lips for a second kiss. "I love you too."