Petit Fours
an anthology of four Tokyo Mew Mew short stories
by Cooking Spray
Disclaimer: Insert general disclaimer here. Or go read another Tokyo Mew Mew fan fiction's disclaimer.
Konnichiwa, minna-san! I haven't been around the fanfiction world lately. . . but after re-reading some of my Tokyo Mew Mew manga, I was inspired to write these stories. They're all one shots and are readable on their own, and will have some intriguing pairings. Also, some ado about the title. . . petit fours are French snack cakes, and since this anime is based around food, I thought it appropriate. Also, there are four stories, all petite, as satisfying as a bite-sized cake. Metaphors abound!
The first is a Pudding/Tart fic, set about six years after the completion of the series. It's very cute, and I hope you'll enjoy it!
Morsel One:
Candy Drop Love
The glow of the spotlight was full in her face, illuminating her body entirely in its bask. The crowd's eyes were upon her, in a hush of anticipation. She gasped in a final breath, and slowly placed a toe onto the thin tightrope, muscles tensed. Then, with practiced ease, she enchanted the audience with her smile, and began her acrobatic routine. . .
But wait. The spotlight had grown brighter, too bright. . . it blurred and dissolved her fans, her arena. She squinted against the glare, and then. . .
The light was real. The amber eyes of Pudding Fong snapped wide open, vision recovering from slumber. When the world focused again, she saw Hanacha fooling with the mini-blinds, a stream of sunlight flowing through the room.
Pudding wasted no time getting on her feet and untangling herself from the sheets. "Hanacha!" she shrieked. "You ruined my dream! And it was a nice one about the trapeze, too. . ."
Her sister stuck out her tongue, eyes twinkling mischievously. "Mature onee-chan dreaming about the circus again? What high aspirations." Pudding growled, and Hanacha giggled as she dodged a pillow. "Otou-san told me to wake you up, it's nearly ten. You sleep in so much lately!"
Pudding was suddenly alert, choosing to ignore her sibling's last comment. "Otou-san's home?"
Hanacha nodded, trademark Fong golden curls bobbing as she did so. "He got in late last night, but you were too busy talking to your weirdo boyfriend to notice. What's his name again? Tar. . .something or other. . ."
Pudding's cheeks pinked. "He's not my boyfriend! Just a very good friend!" Hanacha stifled another giggle. "Now out of my room! OUT! I've got to get dressed!" Hanacha turned on her heel and began running downstairs in giggles. "Tart lover!" she taunted at the top of the
stairs, before swinging a leg over the banister and sliding down, expecting her older sister to pursue her.
Pudding gratefully shut and locked the door to her room, sighing in relief as she leaned against it. Much as she loved her extended family, they unfortunately all took after her own exuberant nature and could be incredibly frustrating. Just a little privacy once in a while was all she asked for! Hanacha had probably been listening to she and Tart's conversation on the downstairs phone again. . . which meant she'd try to follow her when she left to meet him. Pudding rubbed her temples. Better use the screen door in the back.
Trudging across the room, already annoyed, Pudding shirked her pajamas and began to rummage through her bureau, looking for clothes that would make her happy. She decided on a canary yellow tank top with ruffles and blue jean cutoffs, appropriate for the hot Japanese summer they were having. The choice also made her feel ready to do anything, which, if you were Pudding, was essential.
Fully attired, she approached the full length mirror, examining her appearance. She blew her bangs out of her eyes, staring back at her reflection. Her figure was thin but muscular, with long legs and, Pudding acknowledged regretfully, no chest. Outgrown were the quartet of braids from her younger years, although her hair remained as short as always. Pudding grinned at the mirror self, her happiness returning. Her father was finally home again, which meant she'd be able to get away from her usual babysitting duties. And such as it was, Tart was also in Tokyo.
Since Pudding's Mew Mew days, she and Tart had been arranging visits, and over time a deep friendship had blossomed. All that knew her, in spite of her intentions to keep their meetings secret, teased her about "her weirdo boyfriend", though she protested greatly. Sure, he. . . looked a little odd if you weren't used to it, could overreact and often spazzed out over the smallest of things. . . but he was an alien. Minor personality faults could be forgiven. Besides, he was her first real friend, and she trusted him a great deal. And over the summer holidays, he'd miraculously managed to get Pie and Quiche to agree on letting him stay on Earth. He'd called late the previous night, ecstatic, from his rental apartment. Today they had planned to spend the day helping him get moved in, which, with an assistant like Pudding, would take no time at all and leave the afternoon to spare.
The grin grew wider, and, once again running a brush through her hair to double-check, Pudding turned a graceful cartwheel and unlocked the door, ready to greet her incredibly noisy family for breakfast.
"Pass the syrup!"
A chubby blonde-haired boy looked up guiltily from his mound of pancakes. "Um, I think I might have used the rest of it. . ."
"Otou-san, Chancha used all of the syrup!"
"There's so many pancakes left, what are we going to put on them? This is all your fault, Chancha!"
The elder Fong let out a sigh, but it was a happy one. He watched his children argue with a parental pride, then lifted himself from the floor. Without a word, he pulled from the refrigerator a bowlful of whipped cream and another of fresh sliced strawberries, as if he'd anticipated the dilemma. The five littlest siblings all squealed with delight and smothered their father with hugs and kisses, Chancha staying put in relief. Pudding surveyed the scene with fondness, devouring the last of her pancakes. It was then she decided to broach the subject.
"Otou-san?" she queried. Her father turned his attention to her, as did the curious eyes of her brothers and sisters draped affectionately around his arms, waist, and shoulders.
"Yes, my darling Pudding?"
"Anou. . . Could I be relieved of my babysitting duties today? You're home, and- I'm not trying to force work on you! It's just. . . they've been really well behaved, and they are old enough to at least look out for one another. You see, there's a friend of mine in town, and he wants me to help him unpack things. . ." Pudding's amber eyes were hopeful and pleading.
The older man grinned, eyes a sparkle. "Oh, that friend of yours. . . Tart, is that his name?"
Pudding nodded. "He lives with his older brothers. . . far away, but they've let him rent an apartment in Tokyo for the summer holidays."
"Ah, I see." He nodded sagely. "Well, you deserve a break, after all the work you've done while I'm away. And I can see this friend is very important to you. Go on, do as you like. With all of these extra hands," he gestured to his still-clinging children, "I think we can manage for the day."
"Thank you, otou-san! Thank you soooo much!" She leaped over to join the snuggling, for a moment forgetting her age. "I'll make up for everything!"
"No need," he managed in between chuckles. "Alright, alright, everyone off." Everyone contentedly returned to their places, if a little reluctantly.
"Looks like onee-chan has a date," Hanacha remarked to the great amusement of her identical twin, Heicha, giggling at the glare she received.
The day was already sweltering as Pudding pushed her way through the crowd in the subway station, the midday sun showing no relent. She fanned herself with the slip of paper that she had written Tart's new address on, branching away from the pedestrian traffic to a lesser traveled sidewalk.
She scanned the paper. The location was a few blocks from where she was, it would be a pleasant walk. Breaking into a skip, she admired the scenery, despite the heat. Tokyo was such a clean city, a center of hustle, bustle, confusion and excitement. Pudding loved to call it home.
Having enjoyed the walk, shortly after Pudding was gazing up at the enormity of Tart's apartment, over one hundred stories up. She stood well in its shadow. It would feel odd to live in such a large place, so high up, and with so many other people. . . She walked into the main entrance on the first floor and headed for the elevator, punching in the number of Tart's floor. The doors closed, and as the small cart rose through the numerous floors, she breathed in deeply, excited. It had been almost half a year since she had seen him. . . would he look the same, act the same? In ways, Pudding yearned for his familiarity, something her eclectic lifestyle had not allowed for. . . no more thoughts, she concluded. She'd find the answers to all her questions soon enough.
The elevator doors opened, and Pudding nearly bounced out, consulting the paper again. "Room 204B. . . Room 204B. . ." She followed the snaking hallway, slightly dazed by the endless row of identical doors, set apart only by the gold-stenciled numbers painted on them. At last, with a cry of joy, she reached the appropriate residence. Hardly able to contain herself, she rapped on door, holding her breath.
A few seconds passed, and then the door creaked open, revealing an obviously older boy with ginger hair tied into a single high ponytail. He was quite apparently midget no longer, towering over even Pudding's 5"6 and 1/2. Ears shrunk for disguise, he was dressed in very human clothing, baggy cargo pants and a wife beater which exposed slender but well-muscled arms. Pudding squealed.
"TAR-TAR!" Before he could blink, Pudding had sprung forward and enfolded him in a bone-crushing embrace, wrapping her long legs around his torso. A stain of color appeared on his face at the proximity. "I missed you soooooo much! It's so boring here!"
"Are you ever going to stop calling me by that childish nickname?"
"Nope!" she chirped cheerily, causing Tart to sigh. "Why? It's cute!" She snuggled closer, causing the blush to intensify. Flustered, he shrugged her off of him, and she landed with a gymnast's grace back onto the floor (which was very far down, considering Tart's height), face instantly settling into a childish pout. He had been gone for six months, and she hadn't changed a bit.
"Aren't you a little old to still be hugging everyone you meet?" he complained, pointedly looking away from her, arms crossed. Pudding's pout vanished into a small smile. She knew his ways all too well. The remark, which probably would have been taken offensively by anyone else, was his way of letting her know he was happy to see her, although he'd never admit it or come out and say so. It was clear in his actions though. He embarrassed so easily!
She stuck out her tongue, then turned her attention to the apartment, feeling six years younger. "Uwaaa! You really do have a lot of stuff, na no da!" 1 As she'd gotten older, Pudding had long discarded her habit of adding 'na no da' to the end of every phrase, but in times like these, it sometimes slipped out again. The energetic blonde kneeled next to a box, popping it open. The contents made a sly grin slink onto her face. "Candy drops?"
Tart had crossed the room and plopped down onto the only piece of furniture in the cramped space 2, a futon. Trying to act gruff and indifferent, he made his voice sound bored. "Well, you've given more to me over the past few years than I can possibly eat in a lifetime. I had to do something with them."
"You could've just gotten rid of them, you know. Or. . . are you saying you want to keep them? Aw, I'm touched!" At once his face reddened, and she covered her mouth with her palm. She couldn't help herself, he was so easy to tease! Feeling a little bad, realizing she was probably devastating his most important asset as a male, pride, she threw one of the candy drops from the box at him. He caught it without looking, studying the sugary confection and raising an eyebrow at her.
"Here, eat one!" She grabbed a candy for herself and joined him on the futon, already pulling back the foil wrapper. "Oh, look, I got lemon!"
"Eat one?" He made it sound as if she had suggested he sacrifice himself to a pack of rabid dogs. "Do you have any idea how old these things are? Gross."
Pudding popped the round yellow ball in her mouth, looking at him indignantly. "Oh, fine, be that way, Mr. Dark-and-Brooding. But you don't know what you're missing out on." She made a giant smacking sound. "Mmmm, this is so good. Too bad Tart isn't eating one."
Tart sighed, exasperated, but couldn't resist a smirk. As exhausting as she could be, he couldn't ignore Pudding for long, whether or not she remedied that problem. Nor did he want to. "Fine, fine." He ripped the wrapping off the sweet and jammed it on his tongue. "Happy?"
Score! Pudding gave a crooked smile, waggling a finger at the undercover alien. Victory was sweet, literally. "See, I knew Tar-Tar couldn't resist sugar." He scowled at her, not willing to admit defeat. His silence told her all she needed to know.
"Look, are we going to unpack sometime within the next millennia? Or am I going to have to trip over boxes for the next three weeks?" He was trying to sound annoyed, but Pudding saw right through that.
"Hmmm. . . maybe. It would be kind of funny to see Tart the Faultless stumbling over things." The devious glitter in her eyes told him she was enjoying this.
He pretended to sulk. "You're so sadistic." She giggled and gave him a shove, springing up from the couch and striding towards a particularly imposing stack of boxes.
"Let's see, where to start. . ." With all of the energy she had, she ached to perform her routines, but the tight quarters prevented that. Finally deciding on a lumpy looking box at the top, she seized it and set it down on the ground, flopping down beside it and crossing her legs. "Come help!" she called exuberantly to Tart a few feet away, still brooding on the futon.
"I'm content where I am, thank you."
Pudding puffed out her cheeks. "I said I'd help you pack, not do all the work myself. Now get over here!"
Damn, why did she have to be so persuasive? Grudgingly, he sat up and walked over to his reason for the need of unpacking in the first place, plopping down. She ignored his glower, instead removing the duct tape on the box. She opened it and peered down to get a good look at whatever lurked inside. "Clothes," she announced, tossing the box at Tart suddenly and almost knocking him over in surprise. "Do you even have anywhere to put them?"
"No. What's the point?" he grumbled, sitting the box down on the futon temporarily. "I'm not even going to be here that long." He'd forgotten how go-getting Pudding could be when things needed to get done. It probably came from having to practically raise six little brothers and sisters.
Pudding preoccupied herself with plugging in the miniature refrigerator the apartment provided, blowing away dust. "You could've stayed over at my house, I told you that. We could've made space for a special guest like you. Plus, you would've had free meals whenever you wanted." Her tone was slightly maternal, hands on her hips.
Tart sighed again, shaking his head. "I don't want to be a burden to your family, you've got enough to deal with already. Besides, your father just got home, and it would feel. . . awkward. No offense, but I wouldn't have felt comfortable. You actually should be spending time with your vanishing old man today, but you insisted on coming over. See, we've come full circle. So stop harping on it, and let's just get these boxes unpacked. I don't even intend to stay here that often. The whole reason I'm here is to visit you, you know."
Pudding's shoulders had begun to sag, but that last comment perked her up. It was rare that Tart admitted things seriously, so he must've really meant it. She felt her cheeks grow slightly warm at this information. Though he'd basically left no room for further protest, Pudding thought there was something else that needed to be said. Oddly enough, though, she didn't know what it was. She looked up at the ginger-haired alien before her, whose questioning gaze was still upon her. He looked strange with the absence of his trademark alien ears. She looked at him, truly looked at him, without thinking of him as Tart or her childhood friend, and came upon the startling realization that he was beautiful. Suddenly, she felt nervous, shy, and was forced to look at the floor. What. . . was this queer feeling? It had rose up, at times, when she was around him, but never like this. . .
She had to say something. She didn't know what, but the words just seemed to blurt out of her, without her thinking about them. By this time, Tart's normally scowling and brooding "leave-me-alone" facade had dispersed completely as he noticed the change in his closest friend of six years. She seemed to be struggling with something. . . His face was both wondering and concerned, and the lack of angst in his expression caused a drastic change.
When Pudding finally spoke, her voice had an odd edge to it. "Tart. . . Do you remember the time when you and Pie-san captured me and imprisoned me in the basement of the Tokyo Dome?"
Tart winced. So this was what was on her mind. "Yes." His voice was tight.
Unexpectedly, she smiled, throwing Tart off guard once again. "You were trying to act tough and stern, but I kept frustrating you by not responding to your insults the way you wanted me to." She giggled a little in remembrance. "I thought the chimera animals were cute, and I tried to touch them. If you hadn't pushed me out of the way, I'd have been poisoned and died."
Tart was silent.
She went on, slightly wistful. "And then, I knew you couldn't be completely bad. So, I gave you a sugar drop, and said we were friends. But you got embarrassed and shouted something mean to make up for it, and then disappeared." She looked straight at him, smiling. "That was the beginning of our friendship."
Tart said nothing in reply, waiting to see where this was going. For some reason, his palms were growing sweaty.
Her tone grew soft, pained. "After that, there was the final battle in the sky. We'd been forced to fight you and Pie-san, and when victory came, you told me you'd never really hated me. . ." She broke off. "Then, after Ichigo onee-chan had found the Mew Aqua and we had made peace, we were playing on the branch of a tree. . .
Involuntarily, Tart began to blush.
"You had to go, and I was sad. You said it was good because you'd never have to see me again and there was nothing for you to do on a planet like Earth." Pudding laughed then. "You're always saying things like that. And that was when I offered you all my candy drops if only you'd come back. . ."
Tart was growing uncomfortable, face aflame. This part of the story hadn't been discussed since. . .
". . . and I kissed you and gave you one. I think I nearly gave you a heart attack. And then, you said, you might come back for some more candy drops. . ." She looked at him, expression strangely desperate. "Is that why you came back, for more candy drops?"
It was a while before Tart could speak. It made sense, though, he reflected. If only he had seen it coming. In all of their years of friendship, even after they'd trusted each other with anything, they'd never discussed their relationship. It had been something that was taken for granted. And now, they were both sixteen. . . He felt awful that Pudding would believe something he had said so long ago, probably without thinking. Did he really give such a bad impression? He had wondered over the years why she had kept insisting to see him. . . But he'd never once said a word, because he was grateful for the visits and the sunshine she brought into his dull life. Guilt instantly set in, along with a strong uprising of another emotion he couldn't place. He couldn't let her think that!
He couldn't bear to see her normally grinning and pleasant face so mournful a second longer. He had to say something, anything that would convince her. . . He dropped his voice, not really thinking about what he was talking about and just let the words come as they popped into his mind.
"No, I didn't just come back to Earth for a sugar drop." He paused a moment, considering. "How could you. . . think that after all the years we've spent getting to know each other? I came back to Earth because you are the most wonderful, beautiful, clever girl I have ever met. And," he added even more softly, "You are just about the only person who can make me smile." The compliment had been hard for him to say aloud, but it was true, nevertheless. Still, her words still stung him. . .
Pudding's eyes grew wide at the sincerity of his words. He thought she was. . . beautiful? Clever? She bit her lip, looking down and instantly feeling bad about what she had said. Much as he'd like to make you think otherwise, Tart was sensitive, and for him to even believe he had hurt her would start him beating up on himself. He would see it as his inability to keep anyone happy, and sink into depression, she knew, after having to reassure him so many times in similar situations. She was overcome with guilt, and at the same time, wonder at how such a simple afternoon of helping her best friend unpack had turned so serious. It was her fault, but. . . she'd felt compelled to say those things, make sure Tart really wanted to see her. It seemed they were both having doubts of a similar nature. And she knew better than to force her emotional distress on him, seeing his inability to deal with such intense situations. . . Why had things gone so wrong, so quickly? This must've been pent-up, between the both of them, through the years. . .
Feeling the tears begin to burn in her eyes, Pudding knew she couldn't just sit and let the misunderstanding between them widen. It was "don't ask, don't tell" no longer. Knowing that there was nothing she could say that would be the right thing, she did the only thing she knew how: She walked over to where Tart stood, back turned to her, and wrapped her arms around him into a very tight and serious embrace.
Tart jumped a little, startled. "Pudding, what? Why are you. . ."
"Shhh." She squeezed tighter, and eventually he relaxed, the two basking in the silence as well as the comfort of the physical togetherness. When she felt that the tension between them had dimmed, she began, knowing Tart would listen. Against her will, her cheeks burned.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to make you feel bad. . . I couldn't help myself. I guess I was being a little selfish. Childish too." Her eyes were getting wet, but she didn't pause to fight the tears or wipe them away. "I thought that when you said you wanted to stay here rather than at my house, that meant you didn't want to see me. I know that's not what you meant, I was just being stupid. And. . . if you stopped wanting to see me, that would be the most horrible thing ever. . ." The tears were coming full force now, and she buried her face further into his shirt. "You're the most important person to me. . . and that's all I meant. . . I'm sorry for crying like this. . .! I'm overreacting. . . I know how nervous that makes you. . ."
"You don't have to be." Tart's voice sounded choked, and he hugged her back, pulling her onto his chest. Pudding jumped a bit, not expecting the transition. What. . . was he trying to say? She was forgiven? She felt happy. . . but also disappointed. The cause of the latter she did not want to consider. But. . . this could be opportunity. . . For what? She questioned herself, heart beginning to palpitate more quickly. The more she tried to find the answers, the more she did not want to think about them, or what they could mean. However. . . at this moment, things just seemed so perfect. . .
And then, quite on impulse, she herself not sure of what she was doing (or not wanting to think about it, one of the two), she stood on tiptoe and placed her lips over Tart's own, thinking of everything and nothing at the same time.
Tart's reaction was instantaneous. His eyes snapped wide open, and a blush that rivaled all of his previous immediately sprung up. Panicking, his first instinct was to pull away, but as the moments passed on, he could feel Pudding trembling, and his eyes softened. Suddenly finding he didn't mind the feeling at all, he kissed back. They remained like that a time longer, until both pulled away, Tart's eyes meeting Pudding's with a mixture of wonder and contentment. There was another space of silence, both stealing glances at each other and then blushing, until finally Tart gathered his wits enough to speak.
"What. . . was that for?"
Pudding was still blushing up a storm, but she didn't seem to be nervous anymore. "I don't know," she answered truthfully. "It just felt like the right thing to do. . ."
Tart's facial hue deepened to a becoming tomato hue. "Do you know this means. . . "
"That now we're definitely not just best friends anymore?" Pudding supplied, a little shyly but still with her token pep. "Sure, I know."
"Pudding. . . I. . . you. . . we couldn't. . ." Tart was completely dazed, unsure of what he was saying anymore. A very big step in his life had just been climbed in a very short period of time, and he was suffering serious emotional overload.
The blonde acrobat giggled. "Why couldn't we?" Her voice sounded the tiniest bit playful. "We've gotten along fine all this time, haven't we? How is it any different?"
Tart couldn't be completely sure of anything he was thinking was making sense. But, Pudding didn't seem nervous. Actually, she seemed quite proud of herself for taking that extra step. And. . . he realized with sudden clarity, he loved her. He had for a long time, and Pudding had only just now made him come to terms with it. Face settling into a smile that made his blonde bundle of energy blink curiously, he reached out and pulled her against him, resting his chin on her head. He was pretty sure he knew the answer, but he just had to be certain about this one last thing.
"Pudding Fong. . . do you love me?"
She turned her head up to gaze at him, at first not looking as if she had heard the question. Then, her mouth twisted into a grin. "Of course I do, silly! I don't kiss just anyone, no da." She squeezed him closer, and then added, "And you love me, right?"
He was about to answer when he got an evil idea, the perfect revenge for what she'd done to him earlier. "Hmm. . . maybe."
Pudding pulled back, looking hurt at first. Then she saw the wicked smile on Tart's face that he hadn't been able to resist. Her expression changed to annoyance then.
"Tart, you cruel, evil alien!" she shouted, glaring at him. "I'm being totally honest with you and you're trying to play games with me? Well, maybe I change my mind! I don't want to be in love with someone like Tart, he's a heartless, no-good, trickster-"
The heartless evil alien bent down and gave Pudding a slightly evil kiss.
Her eyes were still closed, insults forgotten as the lip-locking ended. "Mmmm. . . but he's a very good kisser. . ."
Before she could begin her ravings again, Tart bent down so that he was at Pudding's eye level. "As for your question. . . I don't kiss people I don't love."
And he meant it. He didn't.
1. "Na no da" translates roughly to "Don't ya know?" or "Ya know?", and is something that, in the original Japanese versions of the Tokyo Mew Mew anime and manga, Pudding often adds to the end of her sentences. Sadly, this cute speech pattern was removed in Tokyopop's translations, maybe because they thought Western audiences wouldn't be able to relate. Still, I consider it an integral part of her character, and it would make sense that she would grow out of it as she got older.
2. Japanese apartments, due to overpopulation problems, generally only consist of one or two rooms, making them very small and cramped living spaces. In some cases, walls are retractable so you can convert rooms into whatever you need to use them for. They're ideal for high school students who move out of their houses to attend schools in different parts of the city (a common phenomenon which also teaches independence), or commuting business people. Or for a temporary residence for Tart who's come to Earth to see Pudding over the summer holidays.
I think that's enough notes for you all. . .
This is what I call a "squished story". This started out as a one shot, but the premise was just too much, resulting in having to squeeze in a love confession in too short a space. I think it would work better as a chaptered story, where I can have more room to let things evolve on their own without worrying about length. Xx;; Who knows, if enough people review, I might turn it into one!
Anyway, I really love this pairing! It's so adorable, and it's a nice excuse to be able to write some fluff (my stories are so angsty!). I think it may've gotten a little too long and mushy, but I'm proud of it. I hope everyone liked it! The next story will be a somewhat interesting choice for me, a Mint/Zakuro. TV announcer voice Stay tuned. . . XD