Free Talk- After a ridiculously long time I have begun a new story, an Alternate Universe set in modern day Japan. It's something that's been cooking in my head for way too long, so I hope I can get it all written out. I still am going to continue "In a Family Way, but it may take some time. I hope this story will be as welcomed as my previous ones. There are really two heroines in this one, Momo and Rangiku, but I didn't select both names in case people were looking for yuri. Anyways, I hope people enjoy this AU. Please tell me what you think!

Crimson and Clover

By Miss Angel Maxwell

Chapter One: Dear Catastrophe Waitress

"… That was Franz Ferdinand's Dark of the Matinee and this is Johnny Sakamoto, the only DJ in Karakura who plays all your favorite American music. It's six-thirty AM right now and it looks like it's going to be another bright, sunny…"

Hinamori Momo spilled a muffled groan into her pillowcase as her fingers groped blindly for the snooze button on her clock radio. "Stupid, perky DJ," she grumbled before rolling over onto her other side. She heard the soft squeak of her door opening a few centimeters and a young but stern voice spoke through the crack.

"Don't fall back asleep, Momo."

"Jus' ten more minutes, Shiro," she muttered.

Toushirou sighed loudly. "Another late night?"

Momo just gave an affirmative grunt and waited for the retreating sound of footsteps before pulling her comforter over her head like a cocoon. Almost as soon as she sank back into the pillow, however, she heard Toushirou's voice again.

"You ready to go?"

"What? No!" she stammered. "I told you I needed ten more minutes, Shiro. Just let me…"

"Momo, that was half an hour ago," the boy interrupted.

One hand reached out from the down and linen womb and probed the bedside table until it found the clock radio and pulled it inside. A second later Momo exploded from her bed with a shout. "Crap!" She flew around the room in reckless tizzy, tearing through her drawers and closet.

"Where is it? Where is it? Where is…" She opened her bedroom door and was about to launch into the hallway in her search, but standing right outside was Toushirou, a sickeningly pink dress and a white apron hanging from a plastic hanger in his hand. "… my uniform…"

"You better get dressed quickly," said the boy, who was already clad in his middle school uniform, his snow white hair styled and spiked the way he liked it. "Mr. Hisagi said if you're late one more time…"

"I know, I know," Momo squawked, snatching her uniform off the hanger. Without even thinking, she began pulling off her pajama shirt right there in the hallway.

"Momo! What are you doing?" Toushirou exclaimed, red-faced. "You can't change right in front of me!"

Momo paused, her hands holding the hem of her shirt just above her belly button. "I thought you wouldn't mind… you know, because you're my brother."

"Stepbrother!" Toushirou said emphatically. "And besides, even a real brother wouldn't want to see his sister undressing! Especially a real brother!"

"Fine, fine. I'll change in my room," Momo huffed, dashing back into her bedroom and stripping as fast as she possibly could. Then she tugged on her uniform, fumbling with the buttons, slipped on her white shoes, and pulled her stringy black hair into a sloppy ponytail.

I'll have to put my shower off until this evening, she thought as she misted herself generously with perfume. Hopefully nobody will notice. Let's see… If I skip breakfast, I should make it on time.

Grabbing her purse from the chair where she'd tossed it the night before, Momo hastily exited her room once again. Again Toushirou was waiting for her, only this time he was holding a plate with two slices of toast, already buttered and dusted with cinnamon and sugar.

"You aren't leaving this house without eating something," he ordered.

Momo opened her mouth to object but at that precise moment her stomach gurgled so loudly that she knew any argument she might make would be pointless. Sighing in defeat, she grabbed the toast. "I'll eat it on the way."

"Don't crash your bike," Toushirou said, using a voice that would sound patronizing from any other mouth but his.

"I won't." Momo smiled, knowing that this was her stepbrother's way of looking out for her. No matter what he said, their bond was as good as blood in her eyes. Even though they were short on time, the two of them went together into the den and stopped in front of the little shrine with their parents' pictures to say a prayer.

"Mom, Papa…" Momo always called her stepfather 'Papa' to distinguish him from 'Dad,' who had been gone even longer. "Please take care of Shiro while he's at school. Make sure he does well on all his tests and don't let any bullies harass him."

The boy gave a little snort. "I always do well on all my tests because I'm smart and I study, and there are no bullies at my school. You two would be more useful watching over Momo. Maybe you can help her find a better job, one that doesn't leave her an exhausted wreck."

"And pays enough to cover all of Shiro's school expenses," Momo added. "And that you don't need a college degree for." She sighed and continued in a less hopeful tone. "No need to strain yourselves. I don't think such a job exists anyway."

"Alright," her brother said, putting his hands on her back and shoving her away from the shrine. "No time to mope around. You have to get to the lousy job you do have, and I have to get to school. Of course, if you were late and you did get fired maybe you'd take it as a sign and finally…"

"No, you're right! No time!" she interrupted, tucking both slices of toast between her lips and heading quickly for the front door. When she opened it, however, she was startled by a familiar face waiting just inches away from her own and cried out in surprise. "Kira!" Her breakfast fell from her mouth onto her chest and then onto the floor.

"I… uh… Momo! Um… sorry, I didn't mean to…" the blonde boy stuttered, his pale face reddening. Momo had no idea why he was apologizing so fervently until he added, "… your uniform…" and her eyes looked down and saw the buttery, sugary smear across her chest.

"Crap," she squeaked through anxiously clenched teeth. "Mr. Hisagi is not going to like this, and there's no time to clean it up now."

Despite his being her best friend for the past six years, Momo couldn't help but notice how Kira Izuru looked away shyly as she pawed at the stain over her small breasts.

"I… I'm a little surprised to see you in your uniform," he said, watery eyes flickering towards her for just a fraction of a second before looking away again. "I thought maybe you had the day off or something."

Momo let loose a small laugh. "Ha! I don't know what gave you that idea, Kira. When do I ever have a day off?" She had moved her hands away from her chest and Izuru finally seemed comfortable looking directly at her again.

"Well, usually I run into you on my way to campus and say good morning. When you didn't show up I got, you know… worried."

"I was a few minutes late for exchanging pleasantries so you came all the way to my house?"

Izuru fidgeted, seeming very embarrassed by what he was about to say. "At first I just waited… at the corner where I usually see you. But after twenty minutes…"

The words leapt out of the sentence and slapped Momo across the face. "Twenty minutes!" she shouted as she yanked Izuru's wrist towards her to look as his watch. "This can't be right!" She looked at him in a panic. "Is this right?"

"My watch? Yeah, it's Swiss quartz."

"Oh my god! How can all the clocks in our house be off?"

"It probably started with just one and then…" Izuru began to rationalize.

"No time!" Momo interrupted, shoving past him and out the door. "Shiro," she called behind her, you'll have to walk to school alone. Will you be okay?"

"I'm thirteen, not four," he snorted back.

"I'll walk with him," said Izuru. "I still have an hour before my class starts."

"Great! Thanks!" Momo yelled. She had already mounted her bicycle and was starting to pedal away. There was no time to look back at the faces of the two boys she was leaving behind. No time to even say goodbye.

The sprawl of plain, identical houses that was Karakura blurred grey and white as Momo churned her legs furiously, refusing to slow down until a quaint American'1950s style restaurant appeared on the horizon. Just behind it, the misty silhouette of the Tokyo skyline loomed.

Momo leapt off her bike, panting and sticky with perspiration. In her mad rush she had forgotten her bike lock and would have to leave the security of her only transportation up to fate. With a gulp and a deep breath she headed inside, late for the fifth time in two months.

Inside the diner, everything was calm and under control, with several patrons already seated and eating breakfast. At least her tardiness didn't seem to have affected business. Maybe I won't get fired after all, she thought hopefully. When she entered the kitchen, however, a tall, dark-haired young man was waiting with his arms folded over his chest and a petulant expression on his face.

"Mister Hisagi," she said nervously, avoiding his sharp, squinty gaze. "I uh… I can explain…"

"I don't want to hear it, Hinamori," he said. "You're over fifteen minutes late. I only had one waitress here at opening. Kanisawa was running around like a madwoman just to get the first wave of customers served."

"I-I'm sorry," Momo said sheepishly. "It won't happen again. I promise."

Hisagi closed his eyes and sighed as his fingers kneaded his forehead. "You always promise, Hinamori. And I always give you another chance. I'm sorry but you've used them all up. I can't keep pardoning you just because your parents… I'm afraid I'm gonna have to let you…"

"Wait!" Momo cut in, her voice cracking with desperation. "What about high school? Don't you remember, Shuhei? When I was a freshman and you were a senior, and I wrote your Japanese Lit paper so you could rehearse for Battle of the Bands?"

"Yeah," he admitted reluctantly.

"I helped you with a lot of your schoolwork," Momo reminded. "You wouldn't have graduated if it wasn't for me."

"What makes you so sure of that?" Hisagi asked. Momo could tell that he was trying to protect his pride, but by the end of the question all confidence had drained from his voice and he stood there fussing nervously with his collar. Suddenly Hisagi Shuhei looked very out of place in a collared shirt and tie, and he was once again the rebellious boy she'd gone to school with who wanted nothing more than to play guitar.

"So am I really fired?" Momo asked calmly, though she already knew that she was safe, at least for today.

"One more chance," her boss sighed loudly. "But I'm really serious. If you…"

"I won't," she interrupted. "I won't cause any trouble ever again. I promise." She extended her hand with a hooked pinky to make the promise official, but the bells above the front door chimed before Shuhei had a chance to complete the gesture.

"Sounds like a new customer," he said. "I'll let you take care of them."

Scurrying out to the front of the restaurant, Momo expected to see one of their typical patrons, some plain company worker on his way into the city. The woman who stood waiting to be seated was about as far from the regular clientele as they came, tall and voluptuous, with shimmering gold hair, and dressed head to toe in designer fashions. She was so beautiful that Momo found herself blushing in spite of herself as she greeted her.

"H-hello. Welcome to the Metro 69 Diner. Please, let me show you to your table. Will anyone else be joining you?"

The woman slid her Louis Vuitton sunglasses down her nose to reveal a pair of bright aquamarine eyes. "It's just me, Momo," she said.

A small gasp squeaked in the hollow of Momo's throat. "How do you know my name?" she asked.

With an amused little smile, the woman calmly replied, "it's on your nametag."

"Oh, right, of course," Momo said, looking down awkwardly. "Um… uh… Where was I? Oh, right. Follow me to your table." She led the woman to a small table and pulled out a chair for her. "Here you are, ma'am, and here's your…" Pausing, she reached into the front pocket of her apron but found that it was empty. "Oh… I, uh, I seem to have forgotten to bring you a menu… I'm sorry, I'm really, really…"

"Don't sweat it," said the woman. "I'll just start with a glass of water and you can bring the menu along with it. And you don't have to call me, ma'am. The name's Rangiku."

Momo bowed politely. "Thank you for your patience Miss Rangiku. I will be right back with your water and a menu. Right back!"

I guess I can see why guys get so awkward around pretty girls, she thought to herself as she scuttled back to the kitchen. But what is such a beautiful person doing eating at this boring place? And her clothes… She must be rich."

She reached for a menu but before she could get away with it, a cold hand grabbed her wrist like a vice, causing her to jump. After the first moment of heart-stopping shock, she looked up to see Shuhei, who was holding her arm and wouldn't let go. He was staring across the restaurant longingly, paying no attention to the girl he was restraining, and speaking in a strange, breathless voice.

"Who is that goddess? Momo, do you know her? Have you seen her before?"

Momo knew exactly who he was talking about even before she looked over to where his gaze was aimed. "Oh, well, I only just met her," she said as she tried to pry Shuhei's fingers open. "Her name is Rangiku and she's my customer."

"Not anymore," said Shuhei, finally relinquishing Momo's arm. "I'll take it from here."

"What?" she spat. "Miss Rangiku is my customer! I've already started! And besides, there isn't anyone else for me to wait on."

As if by fate, Momo's sentence was punctuated by the chiming of the door bells. "Sounds like our problem just solved itself," Shuhei said with a satisfied smile. "Now hurry up and greet our new arrival."

"But…" Momo began to protest meekly, but the memory of her promise that morning silenced her. Besides, if Mr. Hisagi knew how much she wanted a chance to talk to the mysterious beauty he'd probably think she was strange. She sighed in defeat. "I'll get right on…"

"Hey!" a booming voice cut through her sentence. "Eh? Nobody waiting to greet me and show me to a table? What terrible customer service!" It came from the front of the restaurant, but Momo recognized it immediately and her heart plummeted. That arrogant rudeness was unmistakable.

"Did you hear that?" she shrieked to Shuhei, who was obliviously scrutinizing his reflection on a large metal cooking pan. "It's Mr. Omaeda! You know what he's like! You can't send me out there! I'll… I'll mess everything up!"

"Huh?" her boss muttered, smoothing a cowlick.

"The new customer I have to wait on is Mr. Omaeda," Momo repeated. "You know, the incredibly pompous and obnoxious idiot who is inexplicably a very influential government official and comes here to demand ridiculously complicated orders and then threaten to shut us down if one thing isn't just right?"

Shuhei was straightening his tie. "Oh, right, him. Well, I think you can handle him. After that speech you gave earlier, I know you won't let me down. So go on out there."

There could be no arguing. Any further objections she voiced would qualify as "trouble" in Shuhei's book and she was not going to go back on her word. Calming herself with a deep breath, Momo walked out to greet the abusive customer.

"Confidence," she whispered to herself. "I just need to have confidence, believe that I can do it. If I believe that I can wait on Mr. Omaeda and not mess up, then I can do it."

As she passed Rangiku's table, Momo couldn't help but steal one more glance at the blonde, who Mr. Hisagi was already shamelessly fawning over. Her expression showed nothing more than mild amusement and Momo got the distinct impression that she wasn't really even paying any attention to her admirer. Momo could almost feel the woman's gaze touching her and felt suddenly very self-conscious. Distracted, she plowed right into her new customer, bounced on his enormous girth and tumbled to the ground.

"Watch it, you clumsy girl!" the giant slab of a man barked at her, and from her vantage point on the floor he seemed even more monstrous. "Well get up! You're the dullard they sent to serve me, right?"

"Y-yes," Momo answered, scrambling to her feet. "Right this way. Follow me." She led Mr. Omaeda to a table close to Rangiku's. He loudly grumbled about her incompetence the whole time until he was seated.

"Alright, would you like me to get you something to drink while you look at the men…"

"I already know what I want," he interrupted. "And you better not mess anything up. I could have this dump shut down!"

"Right," Momo replied nervously, let me just get out my notepa…"

"To start with, I'll have a bowl of the seafood stew with no shrimp in it and no shrimp used in any part of it, extra clams and only whole milk used in the base. Then I would like two cheeseburgers. One I would like done medium-rare with Swiss cheese, red onions, not too much mustard, heirloom tomatoes, and I want it on rye, untoasted. The second I want done medium-well, white onions, no mustard, no tomatoes, extra ketchup, orange peppers, and I want it on a toasted sesame seed bun."

"Wait, slow down… Please…"

Completely ignoring Momo's interjection, the man continued his laundry list of special orders. When he finally finished, all she had written down was "seafood stew." She was about to ask him to say it all one more time, but as soon as she opened her mouth the man shooed her away with a wave of his beefy hand.

"What are you waiting for, girl? Go and get my food! The Hisagi boy usually waits on me himself and you're already disappointing me!"

"Yes sir! Right away, sir!" With a gratuitously deep bow, Momo rushed to fetch his stew, in the hope that it would at least keep him occupied long enough for her to get help from Shuhei. Ignoring procedure, she ran past the order pickup spot and through the kitchen doors, back to where the cooks were cooking. She could hear them yelling at her.

"Hey! What are you doing?"

"You're not allowed back here!"

"The kitchen is off limits to wait staff!"

Momo ignored them, went straight to the vat of seafood stew that was simmering on a low burner and ladled out a huge bowl. Then she ran back out to serve it to Mr. Omaeda, the scalding liquid sloshing painfully onto her hands as she weaved between tables and chairs.

Her focus remained steadfastly on delivering the soup until she passed Rangiku's table and her legs seemed to slow independent of her own will. Her gaze turned uncontrollably to that beautiful face, which smiled enigmatically back at her for a moment before shooting a coy wink. Like the curse of a witch, that wink took immediate effect or Momo; her ankles ensnared on something and her body lurched forward.

For a second Momo was face down on the tile floor. Then, before her brain could even piece together what happened, she felt herself yanked up by the back of her uniform and set roughly on her feet. Looming above her was an enormous purple face.

"RAWRGH!! YOU IDIOT!!" Omaeda thundered.

Momo's bottom jaw trembled but she couldn't produce any sound. Her body was frozen, her eyes wide on the bellowing beast before her. The soup bowl she'd been carrying was now his hat and its contents were dribbling down the sides of his head and splattering onto his business suit.

"I…" a tiny croak, the beginning of an apology, made its way out of Momo's throat but was immediately drowned out by Shuhei's stern voice.

"What's going on here?" he asked in a very professional tone (as if he hadn't just happened to be on the scene due to its proximity to Miss Rangiku).

"This incompetent little brat just ruined my best jacket! Do you have any idea what this cost? Of course you don't, you peasant!" Omaeda paused for a moment as a lump of clam plopped from his shoulder onto the floor. "And on top of that, the moron didn't even get my order right! There's shrinb im dish shoup…"

Momo gasped in horror. Mr. Omaeda's already gigantic head was puffing up like an ugly red balloon right in front of her eyes. His fat lips could barely form words anymore.

"I peshifickly shed no zhrimp! I'b derribee arurjig!"

"You're terribly allergic?" Momo whimpered. "I had no idea, I mean… you never mentioned… It was an accident!" Her eyes darted to the object that had caused her fall and then desperately up at Mr. Hisagi. "Someone dropped their umbrella and I tripped over it. It wasn't my fault, Shuhei. I…"

"Imbishill!" Omaeda spat through his blubbery lips, which were now the size of sausages. "I demamb dat oo vire, her Hishagi! An gall me a mambulansh!"

Shuhei was visibly frazzled and seemed unsure of what to do first, call an ambulance or deal with Momo. "Kanisawa?" he called to another waitress. "Could you call an ambulance, tell 'em we have a bad allergic reaction?" Then he glared at Momo, who was still trembling, tears clinging to her eyelashes. "You broke your promise. I have no choice but to dismiss you. I'm sorry."

An icy feeling flooded Momo's belly. She searched Shuhei's face, waiting for him to pardon her, and although his expression was strained, he didn't say another word.

"I guess I'll just go get my purse from the break room." Her voice didn't sound like it belonged to her.

I blew it… I ruined everything… How could I let this happen? Fired… How will I pay for Shiro's school? I've let him down. I let Mom and Papa down. And Dad… I let everyone down…

As reality set in and Momo's heart sunk deeper and deeper into cold despair, for some reason she wanted to see Rangiku. She wanted to look at that flawless face and find comfort in its radiant heat. When she looked towards the woman's table, however, Rangiku was gone, and Momo's anguish intensified as she floated lifelessly towards the break room.

The sounds of the customers, their chattering voices and the clink of their spoons and forks, melded into white noise, punctuated only by the whine of a siren. The ambulance had arrived but Momo ignored it. She wasn't going to stick around to give her side of the story again. Clutching her purse to her chest, she walked outside with small, miserable steps. Her bicycle was missing from the rack.

"Of course," she sighed. "Somebody stole my bike. When it rains, it pours."

As it the sky had just heard her, it ripped open with a great roar of thunder and a deluge of fat raindrops started to fall. Stupid Johnny Sakamoto.

Staying in the restaurant until it passed wasn't an option and there were no other public buildings close by, so Momo jammed her purse into the front pocket of her apron and made a run for it.

Toushirou was still at school when she arrived back at their home, drenched and shivering. That was actually a huge relief as she was not in the mood to explain to her stepbrother that she had been fired for incompetence. She removed her waterlogged shoes and peeled down her knee socks right inside the door then shed the rest of her dripping clothes into a heap on her bedroom floor.

There's no point in even washing that stupid campy uniform. I might as well just throw it away… or incinerate it… I'd be happy to never see it ever again.

Momo reached into her apron pocket and tugged out her purse, which was miraculously mostly dry. Something else fell out of the pocket with it though, a business card. She picked it up and examined it. It was a white card with a small butterfly embossed in purple foil. There was no address or phone number printed on it, just a name in that same shimmering purple.

Matsumoto Rangiku

Momo flipped the card over. There was an address, but it was written by hand in smooth, graceful penmanship. Underneath it was a single sentence:

"I think I can help you, Hinamori Momo."

To be continued…