Fridays


Disclaimer: I do not own Tokyo Mew Mew


She hated Fridays.

Fridays gave her the worst.

Every Friday was exam day. And she despised taking tests from the very bottom of her heart. As usual, she had gotten tense the night before, causing her expression today to appear fairly glum.

She had been studying—just as instructed. Even though she suspended the procedure until the last day before the horrendous event, she still, nevertheless, studied her head off.

She merely hoped she reviewed the subjects enough times to obtain a decent score.

Word could not cease to describe how rough her parents were going to tackle her if she got below a B. Why, a C would basically send the both of them shooting up the roof.

Ichigo sighed, twirling her plastic fork between her fingers as her two best friends, Moe and Miwa chatted away about their obsessions of the week. All she could pry visible was the calm, habitual conversations, and not one, not ONE word in relation to what was about to occur the following stage.

Sometimes, she wondered how they kept their roots to the ground when a few minutes later, they'd all be engaged in testing hell. Clearing her throat, she raked her eating utensil on her untouched lettuce.

"Um . . . hey, guys," she murmured, landing her dining instrument down beside her dish. "Are you aware we have an exam later?"

It certainly seemed like a dumb question but unfortunately, unable to conceal her curiosity any longer, Ichigo must ask.

Miwa lighted up excitedly at the wavering inquiry. "But of course! I've been studying all week! Plus, knowing the type of teacher we got, I bet it'll be a breeze!"

Moe nodded whilst sipping her orange juice. "The papers he's been handing out did look quite easy."

Ichigo twitched uncomfortably, the disappointment printed clearly on her face. "Really?"

"Really."

She turned around ever so speedily and growled.

Leave it to them to bust her engine.

"What?" Miwa demanded, suspicious.

Ichigo forced a smile. The last thing she needed was sympathy and prolonged lectures. "Oh, nothing!"

Letting out a loud mouthful of air, she seized at the pink colored straw exploding from her cup. She negligently circled it around the glass, creating images of disappearing loops in the orange liquid. Her meat and small serving of rice laid unimpressed upon her lunch plate. Ichigo developed no intention of devouring it.

RIIING. RIIING.

The sound of the school bell crashed her eardrums silly. The young teenager quickly jolted up in fear, springing over the bench in utter apprehension.

It was time.

Despite this, she made her trip to the garbage can to dispose of her leftover meal slow— inordinately slow. With each hasty step she took, her stomach lurched. The nauseous emotion leisurely awoke her lungs, traveling up to her esophagus.

She would have extended her moves further if it hadn't been for Moe, who quickly pushed her tray into the trash cheerfully.

"Hey, Ichigo! What's the matter? You've been glued there like a log for a full ten minutes! Any longer and I'd have assumed your soul had been sucked out."

"Yeah, you're going to miss the test!" Miwa pointed out jokily.

Ichigo, obviously stood unpleased with the little 'favor' her friend just done.

I'd gladly skip it, she thought dryly. Gladly.

The trio progressed back into the school, leaving the park, their chosen lunching location unpopulated.

The two leaders laughed and gossiped away while the slave at the rear despondently hunched over and groaned out tears of defeat. Ichigo did not join in the happy discussions, not even when her ears alerted something in reference to her dear 'Masaya-kun'.

After one final sentence regarding a new guy one of the girls' met, Ichigo's two associates decided to hold on a racing competition. This only earned the mew mew leader another surge of depression. And she attempted to express her opinion, but:

Without giving her a second glance, Moe and Miwa dashed off, sending dust trails to fly energetically in the cat DNA-infused student's face.

She coughed, slapping her chest as she forced the soil out her throat.

"Some friends they are," she murmured self-consciously.

Pausing on her steps, she realized she was offered no other choice than to journey back; much to her displeasure.

She squeezed her eyes tight, highly discouraged by her predicament.

"Stupid ordeals," she grumbled, dragging her tired feet.

Faithfully for her, a certain somebody decided right then and there to crash the party.

"Hi, Koneko-chan!"

Her ears prickled.

In seeped the disturbing sensation . . .

Without rotating her head north, she already knew who levitated behind her.

"Kisshu."

"Happy you remembered my name."

An attack perhaps? She mused.

"How are you doing, Kitty?"

She scoffed, dismissing his attendance halfheartedly. What was he doing here?

"Fine, thank-YOU."

"That's great! I'm delighted you're not that mad to see me!"

She bit her teeth. Did he have a monster nearby? There had to be some explanation . . . "If you want to do battle, go bother another mew," she croaked.

He debated briefly, smacking his tongue.

"Oh, but you're my favorite."

She rolled her eyes.

"Like I care."

"That's not playing nice, kitty," he pouted, still, without a doubt tailing behind her. For once, Ichigo's back didn't resonate with nervousness and unpleasant chills. Instead, her spinal cord stood stiffly as did her other body parts.

"The only thing that's not "NICE" is you," she muttered, pressuring the sixth word.

"I'm always nice."

His informality was killing what little strength she had stored within her brain cells. By the time she arrived at the classroom, she probably had no intelligence left. But that would be a relief, wouldn't it? Considering it Kisshu's fault . . .?

If only she held the privilege to tattle using him against her taxing parents.

"So . . . what's the problem?"

He sounded almost too casual.

"Like you have a right to know," she hissed.

"Umm . . ." he smirked, a facial expression of utter glee spattered over his face. "I believe I do."

"Come on, cut to the chase. What do you want?" she exclaimed, voice volume enhancing tremendously. She could really use some informative chatting if he was going to linger long.

Silence embraced her momentarily. The only sound heard were the quiet scrapes of Kisshu floating through the wind.

She lost her patience.

"Well, you stupid alien? I suggest you talk before I bring this degree elsewhere."

Frankly, however, she held no potential for that. Thus, her mouth's work came out as honest bluff.

"Oh, no, Koneko-chan, I'm not here to cause any trouble for you," he chuckled. "I wanted to hand you a gift."

She halted on her heel.

Slowly, her eyes widen and a snicker secretly manipulated her ever so clean lips. She hugged her shoulders in a semi-vice grip and hopped twice, crashing her feet hard onto the cement floor.

Something to hand her?

Her?

She must laugh.

Are you sure you aren't going to give me some bomb that will be expected to detonate the instant it connects with my hands? Her mind mocked in darkness.

Whirling around, she forced on her combat features, erasing reachable fragments of her weary self.

"Yeah right . . . Listen, if you want to launch a Kirema Anima, I'll make it quick. But rest assured I don't have TIME for this! Just . . . I've got schoolwork next period . . . and then some stupid homework assignments . . . and then . . . then . . . a . . . a . . . TEST! I—"

She was cut off when a small transparent box beached on her head.

The impact lightly stung her skull.

She half-wondered why in the heck her brain was suffering so much today—on the date of the quiz, no less . . .?

Fortunately, his silky smooth tone erased her paralysis. "Ahem . . . before screaming, I'd suggest you look IN the box."

She froze.

Was he really?

She titled her head, feeling the satisfying pain as the object slid down her brow, to her nose, and finally scraping her chin downhill to her leveled palms. Offering Kisshu an exhausted glance, she darted her orbs at the parcel.

Cupcake.

She shook her head, blinked twice and repeated her action, expecting a revolting, macabre, despicable—

Cupcake.

Still . . .

. . . A cupcake.

She squinted, juggling, and prodding the thing helplessly in bewilderment. She eventually admitted defeat and eyed Kisshu.

He floated a few inches from her, grinning.

"A strawberry dessert for your hunger is what I have presented you. You skipped lunch previously."

Her mouth hung half-opened.

"Oh. I spied on you while you and your pals were lunching. I love meandering in parks. And I happened to see you didn't consume a single thing so I got this for you."

Her expression did not vary.

"Happy eating," he said simply. Unable to distribute a next speech, he waved and teleported out of sight.

It took a while before the dumbfounded pupil anchored back to Earth. In doing so, she nodded in overdue response, even though the giver already gone. Her feelings highlighted shock, bafflement, puzzlement, confusion, but also . . .

. . . Joy . . .?

She looked at the delicacy, ripe enough to gobble.

So his acting had been nothing more than a mere joke?

All this time his ambition was to deliver her a . . .

. . . treat?

She sniffed, a dark cloud of mystification surrounding her form.

On the other hand, she WAS hungry . . . she could really do for a . . .

She lifted the lid absently.

Perhaps Fridays weren't so bad after all—THIS Friday that was.

Apple-chan: Friday was chosen because it seemed logical to me that if a teacher should give an exam, he or she should be fair in considering offering the students a week of studying. (YAY!) After that big failure on "Delicious" I decided to give IxK another try.