Disclaimer: I do not own Tokyo Mew Mew
Chapter one: In Kish's case
"You're hopeless! You're really hopeless!" the derisive voice of thirteen years old Taruto tortured Kish's head implausibly. "How could you even consider something so preposterous?"
The green haired alien stared while his younger friend went berserk, shouting various statements concerning his ill-decision conclusion. His mouth had been functioning like a motorboat nonstop for a full twenty minutes. Yet still, Kish himself couldn't find anything the situation had to bowl over.
" Kish, you've got to be kidding! This is absurd!"
He sighed at Taruto's babbling. The three of them currently inhabited at the location of Pai's house--much to his displeasure.
"Well, don't blame me. She was the one who started it. You saw her nosy attitude."Kish expostulated, flopping down on the velvet couch in pretend despair. "It isn't fully my fault."
"Sure," Taruto rolled his eyes.
Kish lowered his eyelids nonchalantly. "Besides, I'm sure I stand a fair chance."
"You're mad! Why, of all the things you could have said, this was just the stupidest!" The brown haired teen cried. He looked ready to implode and burst from his position in a rampage.
Pai suppressed a side comment. He nodded correspondingly.
"So what? It's not like she can do much either," Kish pointed proudly. "If you ask me, I'd say she's ten times worst than me! Heck, she's never even tried performing such a task! All her work's done accordingly by her loyal maids. Face it, she has no skill whatsoever." He crossed his arms, taping a thick, ridiculous smirk on his mouth.
"Like you have any familiarity," Taruto countered.
"C'mon, give me a break, will you? All you guys have to know is that I understand more than she does," Kish assured.
Pai and Taruto gaped. Gradually, they began conjuring up the scene that took place barely a few hours ago. Instantly, disapproval soaked their faces.
"Okay, class, the next step will be the most crucial part in the recipe. If you mess this one up, there is a good possibility your whole cake will get ruined. Remember, do it exactly as I tell you. Don't take twists and turns to attempt adding in more flavor; it'll most likely result in a massive rock of ineligible gunk. Please proceed with caution."
The serious voice of Mr. Narutaki, the cooking teacher froze the pupils in their tracks. Everyone gawked straight at him as he explained the requirements. All gave understanding and determined bobs along each sentence. Several teens were clenching their fists, looking as if it'd be the end of the world if they were to miss one single word of the important speech. Nobody wanted to end up making an awful tasting pastry. Especially after all the work they've done for the past week. Following studying the perfect piece of instructions, they were ordered to get home to practice their procedures. The planning and material needs took nearly four days to accomplish. Finally, undergoing tests, quizzes, and oral exams regarding catering, today came.
Despite the dangerous warning, one boy literally ignored the teacher's call.
Kish sat stirring his mixture of ingredients starkly, spraying tiny particles of dough around the table in small chunks. His speed accelerated with the multiplying swirls. The turns using his wrist increased. He moved the big spoon side to side; concentrated directly at forcing the outcome to develop correctly.
However, it seemed the more he pressed at the stubborn batter, the rougher its surface became.
Taruto glanced at his friend's wrong doings. He shook his head, feeling sympathy for him.
" Kish, you're not supposed to stir so hard," he informed quietly, wiping a yellow stain on his apron. "You're to do it lightly, gently, just enough to urge it smooth."
Kish stole a single look . . . then went back to his duty.
The chestnut haired boy pouted. He took his own bowl out and acted out his advice. He allowed his wrist to move moderately, at normal pace, causing the concoction to gleam. Each stroke was delicate. Upon farther inspection, the matter in the holder could easily be mistaken for warm milk. Before long, the dough was like pure white silk.
"Here, that's the right way!" he stated proudly, elevating his completed work above his head.
Kish only grimaced. He didn't bother to mimic. He hated being told off by anyone younger than him. Instead, he copied his own desires, spinning his goop harder and harder. He spun until the substance piled up in a gruesome heap; an identical comparison to a clay mountain.
Taruto laughed. He was entertained by this. "That's why you should bear in mind my flawless suggestions," he shrugged, half-sneering. "Well, whether you did it right or not, you'll have to listen to what Mr. Narutaki has to say now."
The forest-colored head glared. But nevertheless, he shifted his attention to the adult instructor.
"Okay, everybody, put exactly one teaspoon of baking powder and one teaspoon of baking soda in," Mr. Narutaki commanded, demonstrating his directions with his personal mound of elements.
The mass of students hurriedly did as told. Taruto spread the spoonfuls peacefully on his uncooked cake and mixed. His deed achieved no harm for the shiny flour. Kisshu, on the other hand was having great difficulty. His pie already morphed into a fine piece of solid rock. Angry, he smashed at it, making no better of the situation than it already was. The green haired boy scrunched up his face in disgust.
Across from him, Minto Aizawa was experiencing the same problems. Except hers was much worst. Her cake contained impossible colors. Streaks of melted sugar were surrounding the bowl's border. The batter was thick--crusted; totally the opposite of the original model. It looked absolutely revolting. Kish eyeballed her humorously. For some particular reason, her lack of effort amused him. Resembling a flicker of light, he forgot his own predicament. His mouth expressed a rumbling laugh.
Minto stopped her smacking. She turned west; where her teasing classmate rested and uttered a low growl.
"What do you think you're looking at?" she hissed pitilessly. Kisshu, mildly surprised at her outburst simply smiled. The girl got fervent so soon.
"At you, of course," he answered casually. "Oh, I mean, your "beautiful" cake."
Her cheeks puffed up in embarrassment if not irritation. She nimbly dropped her work on the wooden table with a soft 'thud.' "You have no right!"
"It's a free county," he said knowingly. He drowned his gaze deeper in her angle. "Besides, I worried you're sick. You don't look like you're in any shape to cook . . . if anything it'd have to take someone who has serious imagination problems to make an unconventional dessert the likes of that. . . ."
The blue haired girl prepared to utter a 'shut-up'. Her hand gripped the blending instrument tightly, knuckles turning red due to the hard squeeze.
"I don't blame you. You've never had to cook!" Kish rambled. He was fixated on his new joke discovery. "At this rate, you'll make the most awful wife in Tokyo! Whoever heard of a woman unable to cook?"
She shuddered at his foul language. Her lips formed into a stretched straight line as she struggled to fight back.
"Well, look who's talking," she snapped. "You're not doing it correctly as well so you've no permission to comment so spitefully on me." Her eyes appeared to have caught fire. It was then that a new insult blared inside her mind.
She pushed some escaping tresses from her ear back up her bun. "It's no wonder Ichigo never praised your homemade food back then."
This remark struck Kish centric in the stomach. Instantly, he dropped his mockery act. Minto smirked in triumph.
"How dare you say that!" he hissed. Out of the blue, his anger side surfaced. "How dare you bring Ichigo into the conversation!"
"Well, it is true, isn't it?" Minto retorted. There was an odd glint in her left orb. "Why, I remembered clearly that time when you bought the cookies to class . . . they were baked by your own two hands may I add . . ."
"That's it!" he roared lowly. "At least I can handle the "structure", even though I dumped in wrong "contents"! I got one part down, unlike you. You're so lazy; you'll never learn to cook properly! Consider yourself the dumbest chef in the world!"
Minto diverted her gaze. "That so?" she asked.
Kish crossed his arms slyly. He forced a teasing smirk. "Just as I predicted. All riches are useless. They can't even bake a pie the right side up."
She raised her eyebrows in fury.
"A rich girl? Me?"
"Richy, richy, richy!" he prattled.
"Why you little--"
"You rich, rich, rich, rich, rich, spoiled girl!" Kish gibbered. "Minty is a rich girl!"
"You freaky eared single!" she hollered.
The battle over wits continued. Numerous teens exchanged confused glances. Even Pai, the young, calm teen who ignored practically everything that goes on around him was influenced by the hot argument.
"I bet you can't make something decent enough for one person's satisfaction," he challenged.
"I bet I can!" Minto opposed.
"Fine!" Frustrated, he sat down. "Fine, Minty . . . I'm going to hold that bet."
"You know the cooking contest coming up?" he asked. She narrowed her eyes.
"What about it?"
"Well, we are to enter it! You and me! I—"he never got to finish his sentence. An eager Minto barged in promptly, signifying agreement to the idea.
"The person who gets the higher score tallied wins the bet!" she declared. "IF I WIN, YOU HAVE TO BE MY SERVANT FOR THREE MONTHS!"
Kish snickered. "But if I win, you have to be MY slave for three months."
The girl bit her tongue, shooting hateful looks at the leering boy a yard crosswise from her.
--- (End flashback)
" Kish, you'll never win,' Taruto murmured, shaking off the rest of the ugly occurrence from view. "You'll have to be obtuse to enter that advanced cooking contest."
The elder being merely grinned. "Don't worry. I've got it all under control."
Apple: YAY! Minto x Kish! This is the first chapter. I'm sorry if it isn't to your liking. Yeah, I am fully aware of the fact that very few people support them. But I like them. And I'd like to write something centric on the two. So, if by any chance somebody got offended, I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!