Puits d'Amour

Connection, Pt 1

Sora knew she shouldn't permit a prince in her kitchen during the morning baking rush. It housed all manners of hazards, such as knives, boiling liquids, and bustling staff. Adding an extra body- particularly a royal one- was courting disaster. Besides, she was meant to be working, not chatting away.

But ever since Yamato began visiting the public areas of the café, often when Sora was off shift and going about her private life, she saw less of him. When he asked to meet to discuss Eimi's recording session, she eagerly accepted- and she couldn't say why. She was neither excited by his title, like Mimi, nor wary of it, like Eimi was initially. Yamato was… a customer of sorts, paying for a venue and support to safely network.

There was no reason to feel or think much about him, and yet... Sora found herself glancing at the back entrance, anticipating his arrival. When he knocked at last, she was relived more than anything. Her neck was sore from craning towards the damned door.

Sora admitted Yamato, a guard, and an attendant to the back hallway. "Good morning," Yamato said, removing his hat.

Sora observed his coat. "It's getting colder, huh."

"Unfortunately." Yamato placed his coat and hat on the rack in the corner, which was meant for her employee's outerwear. Sora caught herself staring as he finger combed his ruffled hair.

"Oh? You prefer warmer months?" Sora smiled, admiring the rosy flushing beneath Yamato's clear complexion.

"Mm. The Côtes-d'Armor is mild overall, although there are micro tropical climates. Even in summer, the mornings are pleasantly cool, perfect for walking. But in winter, my walks turn into jogs for warmth."

"What do you do if it's wet, or if it snowed?" Sora asked. Yamato heaved a great sigh. Knowing his love for walking and his dog, Sora suspected this meant that he sludged along in bad weather, too- but not as eagerly.

"I see." Sora grinned, amused by the image of Yamato grumbling and stomping through inclement weather. "Well, have a seat. Mimi-chan will take your order shortly."

"Perfect. I need coffee." Yamato followed Sora into the kitchen and sank onto his customary stool in the corner, while the guard and attendant remained stationed in the hall.

It was seven in the morning, so the café had been open for about an hour. However, the bakers were well into their shifts, and the kitchen smelled of bread and pastries, along with the soups and meats being prepared for lunch. Employees worked at rows of long steel counters, weighing, mixing, and otherwise preparing baked goods. Today, Sora asked her staff to work further into the kitchen, allowing Yamato some privacy.

"I hope I'm not interrupting your work." The words were polite, but Yamato's face was set in a mild scowl. By now, Sora knew this was his resting expression, not an indication of his mood… Most of the time.

"Of course not," Sora replied, as she had planned for the interruption. She assigned the more demanding pastries to her employees and prepped dough to knead, a task that required physical effort, but left her mind free for conversation. She removed risen dough from a mixing bowl, placed it on a large wooden cutting board, and began kneading.

As she worked, Mimi entered, chatted with Yamato, took his order, and retreated. With that done, Sora began, "So how did recording go?"

A small smile lightened Yamato's expression. "Koushiro-kun talked to Eimi-chan about her situation. It seemed to go well."

Sora paused with the base of her palms pressed into the dough. It shouldn't have surprised her that Yamato zeroed in on the true goal of the recording session, not after their conversation with Osamu. Maybe his directness was what caught her off guard? She didn't know much about politics, but it seemed riddled with hot air and flowery speeches, far more talk than action. Yamato's approach here was abrupt, but she could appreciate it.

But even as she wondered over his words, they kept coming. "Eimi-chan agreed to meet him alone, which seemed to be progress. She also said she wants to address misconceptions she had about people of higher social stations, just as we want to learn about people from her background."

Sora propped herself against the counter, gooey with relief. "Oh, that's wonderful. And how like Eimi-chan to be misunderstood and pressured for so long, but to say that she was misunderstanding us. Did she say why, exactly?"

"She was told that, even without her stigma, the nobility and middle class would avoid her because she's lowborn. Ichijouji-kun seemed to have the same impression." Yamato answered calmly, but the downward twist of the corner of his mouth hinted at discomfort.

"They aren't wrong," Sora gently replied. "Often, it isn't planned or conscious, but... Well, if you don't have money to spend at the businesses of the working class, then you're unlikely to meet them. And schools patronized by noble families are prohibitively expensive. The circles don't overlap much." She didn't say so, but sometimes, the shunning was conscious, especially if a lowborn person dared try to maneuver themselves into an advantageous marriage- or if a prejudiced family member even suspected as much.

Yamato nodded. "Makes sense. Are Eimi-chan's and Ichijouji-kun's scholarships rare? And are lowborn scholarship students treated poorly by their classmates?"

There was a long pause as Sora struggled with her response. The first question was easy, but the second… Well, best to start with the first. "Nagano University offers a few scholarships specifically for incoming underprivileged students per year, rarely more than three, I'd wager. But sometimes, outside individuals or institutions will sponsor a student, like Eimi-chan with her music patron and Osamu-kun with the royal family."

Yamato watched her, waiting for the rest. Somehow, Sora couldn't keep looking at him, so she turned her gaze to her work. "I hate to say so, but… I've never wondered how scholarship students fare socially. Eimi-chan fits in at the café, and she befriended Koushiro-kun and Iori-kun at school. But she's intelligent and skilled, so I doubt anyone suspects that she's a scholarship student until it comes up."

This time, Yamato was the hesitating party, but Sora couldn't bring herself to investigate. At last, he murmured, "Do you expect someone from Eimi-chan's province to be less capable?"

Sora's stomach churned, a sick, nauseous sensation. To her immense relief, Mimi arrived with Yamato's food, allowing her time to consider her response. She was forced to admit, "I… Maybe I did?"

Yamato scowled, as he so often did, but his tone was gentle. "I'm not scolding you, and I'd have no leg to stand on if I were. You've known and interacted with more lowborn people than I have. But there isn't reason to think…"

"Intelligence and ability aren't related to wealth or social standing," Sora clarified. "I shouldn't have implied that, and I apologize. But it is fair to acknowledge that Eimi-chan and people from her province lack our access to books and education. It's more difficult for them to advance because of circumstance, not work ethic or ability."

Yamato nodded, allowing the point. "And that's a solid case for offering more scholarships. But regardless, I'm sure students can tell if a classmate has a need-based scholarship. Eimi-chan's clothing alone gives her background away."

What could Sora say? Yamato was correct; the limited size of Eimi's wardrobe and its quality were obvious tells of her lack of funds. Scholarships covered room, board, tuition, and textbooks, but not personal items.

How strange to acknowledge that the items on one's person said so very much about them.

Sora sprinkled flour on her wooden cutting board, just for something to do. "I… Suppose they stand out more than I realized. I hope scholarship students don't feel like outsiders on campus. And at the café." Sora knew what it was like to feel othered, although her case was polar opposite to Eimi's. Watching people hesitate to approach her because of her rank, or attempt to benefit from it, was all too familiar.

But after a day of dealing with that, Sora was able to retreat to her paid-off home above her own business, the loans for which were made to her mother, without interest. What difficulties did scholarship students contend with after being snubbed or made to feel outcast?

Yamato kindly opted to move along. "Sora-san… You hired Eimi-chan, even knowing her situation. Your intentions towards her and your staff are obviously the best."

At last, Sora risked a glance at Yamato- or at least, that was her intention. When their eyes met, she couldn't look away. His gaze was intense, as if he wanted to transfer his thoughts directly to her brain, to prove his sincerity. The kindness of his words and voice clashed with that fierce expression, and yet…

Well, the point was made. She believed him, and some of the warmth crept back into her blood.

"Thank you," she whispered. Her kitchen wasn't the place to say so, but she worried that there was no such thing as a fair boss, no ethical way to profit from the work of others. Still, she tried her best: hiring enough people so that the staff was rarely pressed, paying well above the minimum wage, treating everyone with respect, and offering whatever perks and comforts she could.

"I hope I didn't insult you." That impassioned expression softened, but tension remained in his face, his back, even the hands fisted on his lap.

Sora managed a smile, hoping to put him at ease. "No. I'm glad you said it. We all have room to grow, and that's what I want to do."

Slowly, the tight set of his jaw eased. "That's a nice way of looking at it. I hope I remember that the next time I say something… abrasive."

"You?" Sora said, with mock surprise. "Never."

He grinned, and thankfully, the strained mood passed. "But in general, I sense that there's hostility directed upwards."

"Of course," Sora agreed. "People from poor families have far fewer ways to improve their situation, as Osamu-kun pointed out. That breeds resentment, especially as land, wealth, and positions of power are passed down within families and never redistributed."

Yamato slumped on his stool, leaning against the corner walls. "Hopefully Eimi-chan's record improves her financial situation. Koushiro-kun said there's plenty of work to be done before it's released, but he seemed optimistic about the raw recording."

"Was it interesting?" Sora asked, eager to turn the subject. "I hope you'll consider making your own record, or at least playing at the café."

Yamato cracked an uncertain smile. "Eimi-chan, Koushiro-kun, and I are going to compose a song together. Mimi-chan wants to sing, too."

"That's great! You're making connections, Eimi-chan finally recorded and is making progress with Koushiro-kun, and everyone will want to hear the music you make together." A performance by the prince would fill the café all day, so naturally, Sora was enthusiastic. But she was also genuinely curious to hear his music. What would it sound like? What topics would a prince with such a unique background sing about?

And what would that low, full speaking voice sound like when singing?

Somehow, his smile wobbled even more. "It's also a way for me to dip my toes into performing. I don't have much experience, so a group takes off pressure."

"That's right." Sora tipped her head, considering. "You mentioned wanting to fill your time. If it's music you're interested in, you found the perfect trio: Mimi-chan with her business connections, Koushiro-kun with his knowledge and university connections, and Eimi-chan with her performance experience. I'm sure Koushiro-kun would be happy to show you around campus, too."

Sora inquired about the recording process, but Yamato's answers grew shorter over time. She noticed him staring at her arms and asked, "What's on your mind?"

"That looks like hard work," Yamato replied. "I'd like to help."

Sora sank into the dough as her weight shifted with surprise. "You- You can't-"

Yamato grinned, but there was a sudden wariness about his body language that caught Sora's attention. "I think I can manage if you show me."

Sora pressed and folded the dough, stalling for time. Yamato was constantly asking customers to call him by name, not title. Saying that she couldn't allow a prince to knead dough wouldn't be well received. Thinking fast, she substituted, "You're my guest."

"That is true, but... I'm also your friend. That means you don't have to host me."

Sora flipped the mound of dough over, but forgot to continue working it. "Yamato-san..."

Could she really be friends with a prince? True, Yamato frequented the café, but they hadn't spent much casual time together. But then, how was a prince supposed to fit relationship building into his schedule? And who were his peers, other than royalty living in other countries, and thus unavailable for a friendship? Yamato was close with Jyou, but even high nobility like the Kidos were beneath a prince, socially. The only thing that could begin to approach royalty was nobility paired with craft knowledge and the status linked to mastering and sustaining it.

In other words, an iemoto family like the Takenouchis.

"Can I ask you something?" Sora spoke to the dough, unable to look Yamato in the eye. She already hated what she wanted to say, already regretted it. But she had to know, before she gave Yamato too much space in her heart as a personal friend.

Yamato might have nodded without Sora seeing it. At last, he prompted, "Yes."

Sora released a long breath. "Coming into my café that day, then making a business arrangement to continue visiting... Was that pre-planned?"

The sounds of Meiko kneading dough in the background and someone working a stand mixer filled the void. "I don't follow," Yamato said at last.

Did he really not, or was he just forcing Sora to be direct? As calmly as possible, she murmured, "I'm asking if you want to be friends because I'm an iemoto heiress, or if that's why you were interested in the café to start with."

The resulting pause was too tense; Sora was forced to look up. Yamato's brow was furrowed, but she couldn't tell if he was annoyed or confused. "I didn't know who owned the café. Just that it was Autun style, and that it was popular with university students."

And, just like that, heat inflamed the delicate veins in Sora's face. What was she thinking, bringing up rank with a prince? "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have..."

Yamato leaned back and crossed his arms. Although he was speaking to her, he tipped his head up, gazing at the ceiling. "You thought I've been on the hunt for local nobility- or better yet, iemotos- to befriend." Sora watched him, rigid and obstinately looking away from her, and realized that he was struggling to curb himself.

For some time, she had noticed his duality. Yamato the prince, forced to operate within certain protocols and manners. Yamato the man, passionate, intense, easily ruffled. Sometimes he flipped back and forth so rapidly that Sora could barely keep up. Other times, the transition was comically obvious- or painfully so.

Sora couldn't bring herself to confirm, but she sensed that Yamato would know she was lying if she denied- and that it would annoy him, possibly more than the original question. "It's crossed my mind."

"That's fair," Yamato sighed. "And you're not wrong. You know I'm networking, Sora-san. But that doesn't mean..."

His control and eloquence rapidly crumbled. Yamato tsked, crossed his arms, and scowled. One of his legs was raised, with the ankle resting on the knee of the other. His elevated foot rapidly tapped the air. "You've been kind to me. Of course I think highly of you."

Sora couldn't help smiling. The reasonable, articulate prince was easy to get along with... But the emotional, overwhelmed man felt more human, more like her flawed, lovable friends. "I'm sorry," she repeated, but warmly this time. "I'm sure we've both been approached because of our positions before, but I should have known better. Thank you for answering me honestly."

Yamato's foot abruptly stopped tapping. Although his arms were still crossed, his scowl melted, until boyish mischief twinkled in his eyes. Sora stared, unaware of her smile widening in turn.

"Well," Yamato said, standing. He slipped his hands into his pockets and strolled to her work space, walking down the length of the steel counter. He stopped beside her, still grinning. "Now you have to let me help you. To make it up to me."

Sora slapped a hand to her mouth to prevent herself from laughing, and possibly getting spittle in the dough. "Yamato-san!" she cried, muffled into her palm.

He ignored her, except to laugh softly, almost inaudibly. Sora's laughter died as she focused on his, straining to hear it. It was low, with gentle inflections, a subtle, quiet thing. There was no particular reason for it to be any more interesting than the next laugh, and yet... Sora found herself brainstorming ways to hear it again.

"You're not giving me a choice, are you?" Sora asked. Yamato just grinned, and she threw her floury hands up. "Fine. Grab an apron and wash your hands."

She expected a retort, but Yamato rushed to the basket beneath the work surface that Sora pointed to, as if she might change her mind if he dawdled. He selected a black apron and donned it, rolled up his sleeves, and washed his hands.

With his back turned to her at the sink, Yamato said, "Since I'm working with you, and we're friends now, you can call me Yamato. Just that, I mean. If you'd like."

Sora was grateful he wasn't watching her. How was she supposed to respond? Switching from Your Highness to Yamato-san was intimidating enough, but this...

But that is how I talk to some of my male friends. And if I hesitate to call him that, how much more difficult is it for most people?

"I see," Sora said, hoping she sounded calm. "You're the type that takes a mile when given an inch."

"Hey," Yamato protested- but he laughed again, and wasn't that lovely?

"Alright, Yamato," Sora said, sighing for effect. "Have you ever kneaded dough before?"

"No." Yamato stood beside her, and Sora began a demonstration.

"Grab the end of the dough further away from you, then fold it over itself towards you. Then, place your palms on the dough and push down with your body weight. If the dough sticks to the work surface, scrape it off with a scraper, then add more flour beneath it. Then, give the dough a quarter turn and start over."

"That really does seem tiring," Yamato said. "How long do you have to do it?"

"You get a feel for when the dough is ready, but it takes about ten minutes."

Yamato's eyebrows shot up. "Ten minutes? How many of these do you need per day?"

Sora grinned. "Baking isn't for the weak. There's another batch of dough in that bowl, if you want to try. Let me prep a board for you..."

Sora selected a wooden cutting board stacked beneath the counter and placed it beside hers, then sprinkled it with flour. Yamato upended a bowl against the board, then touched the dough that plopped out. He frowned. "It's… sticky."

"What were you expecting?" Sora asked, laughing.

Yamato shrugged. "No idea. I've never made bread."

"Do you cook or bake?" Sora asked, hoping she didn't sound surprised. Something about his inflection suggested that he had made other things.

Yamato's smile was genuine, Sora was sure of it. But it was sad, too, and she found herself inching closer to him. But he never responded; instead, he coaxed the dough into a circular lump, then folded it in half, as Sora had instructed. He tried to push with just his arms, rather than his whole body.

"Wait." Maybe training employees was too ingrained into her, because Sora forgot her unanswered question and grabbed Yamato without thinking. They both stared at her hand around his forearm. The grit between their skin warned her that she was smearing flour on his royal personage.

Sora released him as if he had electrified her. As predicted, she left powdery streaks, thankfully on skin and not his clothes. "I beg your-"

"No need. Show me what I'm doing wrong." Sora scammed Yamato's face for signs of annoyance. Seeing her hesitation, he murmured, "Sora, please. We're friends. I welcome it."

It was subtle, but Yamato sounded hurt. And the vulnerability in his eyes, echoed by his crumpled brow, spoke far more eloquently. It seemed that every time she encountered him, he sought ways to connect, to bridge the chasm separating him from the world. Sora's heart twanged, a visceral recognition of familiar pain. She recalled that, when last they met, he took her hand the second she brushed his.

It felt odd, perhaps rushed, to become close so fast. But then… When they had so much in common, was it any wonder? And what better way to naturally grow closer than to teach him about her world? "Alright. Then I'll show you."

Usually, Yamato's boyish smile was paired with a twinkle in his eyes. This time, they almost seemed wet. He cleared his throat and rearranged his face into a mild scowl. "Thank you."

Sora held his arm again and gently pushed down. "You're only using your arms. You need to use your whole body."

A quizzically crumpled brow accompanied his scowl. "How do I use my arms with my whole body?"

"You've heard of lifting with your legs, right? Same idea. Rock into the dough." Sora continued demonstrating, but his expression remained unchanged- well, perhaps a touch more frustrated. "It could help if you hold my waist to feel how I move."

His brow rose, an expression of surprise. "Oh- You don't mind?"

"Not if you don't. I've trained several people this way." Which was true, but… Well, when Yamato moved closer, Sora was suddenly hyper aware of him, and of the shrinking distance between them. He gingerly placed a hand on her waist.

"It's better if you use both." By now, Sora was fairly certain she was teasing him, and maybe even flirting. True, he could better feel her range of motion using both hands, and that was her original goal. But now, she found herself focusing on his reactions, watching the traces of pink in his face darken. Thanks to her early morning shifts and her lessons with Toshiko, she rarely had time or energy for socializing, let alone flirting. Yamato was handsome, eager to form bonds, and a harmless target for banter. The crown prince surely had rules for dating and courtship; her teasing couldn't go anywhere, regardless.

What was the harm?

That thought evaporated when he obeyed. His hands were warm- she felt their heat through her clothing and apron. "Pay attention." Was she speaking to Yamato, or herself? "Push with your feet and your arms, and your back, too." Sora shifted her weight from her heels towards the front of her feet as she pressed into the dough with her upper body. It should only have taken a few rocking cycles to teach him, but… Well, Sora was in no hurry to separate from him. He smelled wonderful, a cologne she couldn't place, along with what might have been aftershave.

Perhaps the prince rarely touched anyone, but then… Neither did Sora, other than Mimi's hugs and Taichi's habit of patting her shoulder in greeting. Having Yamato so close, nearly feeling his breathing, sensing his gaze on her…

She wasn't prepared to find it so pleasant.

He didn't move away until Sora flipped the dough, working on muscle memory. "I see," he murmured. "Thank you. So it's like this?" He stood over his board and dough, establishing a normal distance between them. With her personal bubble restored, Sora realized that her pulse was elevated. She focused on watching his form and made a correction, desperate to shift back to normal.

When he was kneading properly, Yamato said, "You asked if I cook or bake earlier."

Sora blinked, still caught in the charm of his touch. Curiosity rose, wondering why he avoided the question the first time, and perhaps more pressingly, why he was opening the subject himself now.

But Yamato gazed at his work surface, and his focused profile offered no insights to his thoughts. "I do enjoy cooking, but I don't have much time for it. And I tend to be looked at askance when I enter a kitchen- even in the place I'm living."

Something about his phrasing caught Sora's attention. "Your home, you mean."

Yamato shrugged, then leaned in, lowering his volume. "I lived there, but... You might know how it feels to live somewhere you don't own. Yes, it was home, but I couldn't cook without turning heads."

Sora found herself nodding. The Takenouchi family had servants, so Toshiko and Sora rarely cooked. Still, Toshiko taught her, and she was responsible for occasional meals growing up, just to learn. Toshiko said that everyone should know how to feed themselves. It seemed unnecessary at the time, but Sora appreciated it now.

"What do you like to cook?" Sora asked.

Yamato flashed a rueful smile. "Old standbys. I don't have the time or experience to explore. I know a handful of Autun and Hakone favorites, but I especially enjoy baking."

"Baking is more difficult, you know." Making substitutions while cooking, whether to taste or because of ingredient availability, was usually simple. But when baking, swapping something or adding the incorrect amount could cause disaster.

Yamato's snort indicated that he was well aware, and likely by experience. "But it's a fun group activity. As children, my brother and I baked with our mother every Yuletide."

He fell silent, and he stopped kneading, too. His resting scowl intensified. "Sometimes, she visited us in Autun for Yuletide. But usually… She couldn't make it."

Sora tried to maintain her kneading pace as her eyes misted. Toshiko had mentioned that the princes baked with their mother. She had no idea that tradition was so important to Yamato. "Did you make puits d'amour?" An odd question, given the weight of the topic, but what else could she say?

"Yes. As you know, it's my favorite. We made all kinds of pastries and treats, though. They taste better when you make them yourself." Yamato paused and grinned. "Except for yours, of course."

Sora was unprepared for the heat that rushed to her face. "Well, then. If you want to cook or bake, come here. No one will make you feel unwelcome in my kitchen."

The words tumbled out, and Sora stared into her dough, amazed and alarmed by her daring. Had she blurted something, anything, to distract from her flustered reaction? If so, it backfired. Her face was warmer than ever, and growing more so as Yamato's gaze lingered on her.

"Thank you." He spoke so softly that Sora barely heard him over the ambient kitchen noises. Still, the emotion in his tone made her look at him, despite wanting to hide her crimson face. When their eyes met, he murmured, "I know we aren't flush with free time, but… I'm taking that offer at face value."

I need to be careful what I say to him. And, despite that conscious, clear thought, Sora replied, "I expect you to."

But that was all the courage Sora could manage. They worked side by side, pressing into the dough, folding it, turning it. Sora finished hers, moved the dough aside, and dumped a new mound onto her workspace. Then, because the silence made her jittery, she said, "Was there something else you wanted to talk about?"

She glanced up in time to see Yamato's shrug- and his dodgy expression, like a child wondering if he might get caught. "I wanted to let you know how things went with the recording session. But, also… Well. I suppose I wanted this."

"You wanted to knead dough?" Her teasing sounded natural, but Sora's stomach leaped, like driving over an unexpected bump.

Yamato snorted. "Ah, no. Do you ever get used to this? No offense, but it's awful."

Sora almost pointed out that he didn't have to do it, but caught herself. He was simply answering teasing with teasing, and treating him too formally would hurt him. She remained silent, unsure how to respond, until he murmured, "I wanted to spend time with a friend."

A pleasant, buoyant feeling spread, unexpected, but certainly appreciated. Yamato cleared his throat, then prodded, "Is that alright?"

"Always." The warmth of her voice surprised even her. "As you said, we won't often have time, but when we do… Well. You know where to find me."

"That's true. Would you like to cook together? I'd love to learn a new meal."

Once again, jittery heat rushed over her. Perhaps Sora was too out of practice, but… That sounded remarkably like a date, although Yamato gave no external signs of approaching her with romantic intentions. She told herself to let go of that thought. The prince was dealing with arranged marriage issues, as was she. If they flirted, or even had a casual date, then so what? It was just for fun and companionship.

Reassured, Sora smiled. "If you don't mind making it lunch- I eat dinner earlier than most people- then of course."

With that, the subject turned to food, and they chatted and worked amicably among the kitchen staff.

Author's Notes:

Hi loves! Puits d'Amour is back! I plan to update every other week for at least two months- ie, I have 4 updates ready, or 3 more, now that this chapter is live. I still have a lot more of my nanowrimo draft waiting for editing after that, so more PdA is in the works. If you're interested, I currently have a poll running (it will close on 3/12/23) on Tumblr for which of my open fics I should work on after these four updates. Vote if you'd like!

Thanks so much for waiting patiently for more PdA! Please leave a review, I'd love to hear from you after that break! Big kiss, mwah!