Eclair Despair (Amaya/Misha)

Somewhere within Fukui's culinary arts building, a solitary figure stood over a counter with scorn in her heart.  By this point in the afternoon, most of the other students had gone on to other things like club activities, study or just hanging out.  The culinary arts building was mostly empty apart from any staff that might be lingering and the occasional girl who stayed behind to clean.  Or work on special projects for a class.  Yet the lights were still on in this particular kitchen, wherein that scornful girl was really starting to question her life choices.  Whether or not she should have enrolled as a culinary arts student, there was a dessert that needing finishing if she was going to pass the next test in class.

An eclair.  Of course it had to be an eclair.  Amaya absolutely despised eclairs with every fiber of her being; for this girl who already despised cooking, eclairs were still even more hated than almost any other food to make.  So far she had been at this for a good 90 minutes, and there wasn't much to show for her efforts.  The cream filling looked okay even though she felt as if a bit of her soul died with each stir in the bowl.  It was the "finished" project that really had failed to live up to what an eclair was supposed to look like.  Less like a French pastry and more like a deflated blimp that had met its demise at the hands of some upset kaiju. On her face the scorn grew stronger as Amaya attempted to figure out what to do next.  Keep trying?  Possibly, but it was probably just going to end up like this again wasn't it?

She could just hear her sisters now, trying to give her tips on how to prepare an eclair properly.  Every word of it made Amaya more frustrated, because for them it was so easy and so much fun.  For Amaya it was pretty much a giant time sink for something that wasn't ever going to turn out well.  Time that could have been spent in so many other and better ways.  Exploring Fukui to discover more secret spots.  Working on her singing at a local karaoke place.  Doing homework for regular academic courses.  Falling down the rabbit hole that was a video sharing site.  Anything but this.  And she had that deadpan face which said that she was devoid of any emotion as she poked at the failed eclair with a fork.

"I hate you," she told it in no uncertain words, unaware she'd left the door open and was facing it with her expression in full view of the hallway.

❝

There was nothing wrong with a short agenda. It told Misha that things were either in control and moving smoothly, or that any factor that may be worrisome was completely out of their hands. From the very start, the Vice President was prepared for the drudgery and arduous meetings that her position required, expected it even. But when meetings ended early, it was a rather pleasant surprise.

The empty halls of the Culinary Arts wing allowed Misha' metal cane to echo with every tap against the hard flooring. There was no longer a need for her to use it to help her walk, but the baker found that it did seem to reinforce her stately image. She had left a tray of pastries in the refrigerator of one of the kitchens, baked in the early morning for a class and left there to be picked up after the Student Council meeting.

Misha enjoyed her otherwise silent walk, using the monotonous rhythm of her walking as a means of clearing her mind. She paid no attention to open doors of the kitchens she walked past until she heard a voice weave in between the echoes.

-I hate you-

Hate is a strong word and strong enough to get Misha to stop walking and turn her head to see a single student making a rather intense expression at what she was trying to make. From the start, the baker was wary of being potentially unpopular due to her position, but she was relieved that at least this time, she was not the object of someone's ire. The cane in her hand was lifted and inverted, the body of it now hidden behind her arm as she carefully walked into the kitchen. Misha tried tried to make as little noise as possible, preferring not to quite startle her fellow chef.

On closer inspection, Misha could see that her classmate was working on eclairs...of some sort. The dough seemed to fail to puff up properly, and Misha gave an understanding nod. Choux pastry was frustratingly finnicky because of the strict temperature requirements, and no matter how many times she did it at home, Misha never enjoyed it too much either. She looked to her classmate with a smile, waiting for a moment when she seemed to be at the least risk of being jolted in surprise, then asked:

"Is something wrong?"

tag(s): Amaya Kawahashi ━ words: 000 ━ notes:

by MIZO.❉ of ww

Amaya considered simply giving up for a moment as she glared down at the failed pastry on the counter.  Eclairs were a notoriously difficult thing to make, not something that came out perfect every time.  Surely if she just explained what had happened in the process and 'what she'd learned' the teacher would be willing to accept something less than an edible product.  But the moment after, she knew deep down that there was no way that she could allow herself to do that.  Everyone looked to her as an ace chef who would produce a lovely finished product every time.  The Kawahashi family's next prodigy!  If she didn't finish this right she would have a harder time keeping her momentum toward a long held promise going.  When that promise was to become a chef with the person who was closest to her, she knew she couldn't just step away.

The girl was broken from her contemplation by the voice of another person in the room with her.  Of course there would be someone else here, it was an open kitchen for students to use - with permission of course.  So Amaya wasn't surprised so much as a bit frustrated that someone else had chosen to step in and ask her if something was wrong.  A lot of things were wrong with cooking and none of them were something that just some random other culinary arts student was likely to help with.  The drudgery, monotony and emptiness that came with each and every thing that she was asked to make.  So little joy came from it despite what all the other girls in her classes seemed to feel.  And the knowledge that she would be failing her family and her closest friend if she dared consider doing anything else.

Fueled by this frustration and the feeling of being trapped, Amaya's deadpan expression remained as she replied, "Eclairs.  Everything is wrong with eclairs."

She pushed her failed product to the side and sighed before grabbing some more ingredients from the fridge nearby.  Her steps were heavy and her shoulder slumped as she moved about the kitchen.  When she returned to the counter and began preparing another attempted eclair, she looked at Misha with that same deathly expression, "Did you need something?  There are ingredients in the fridge if you need any."

❝

Misha nodded again in understanding. Perhaps it was the wrong move to feign ignorance - it was rather clear than the finicky pastry was a source of frustration, but the older baker had hoped to learn of something outside of the obvious. For better or worse, the other girl's body language as she retrieved another set of ingredients said much more. Thankfully, despite the girl's dire expression, her voice didn't seem to be hostile, at least towards Misha.

"I am not in any need of anything," the blonde replied politely. "Just a fellow chef who has found herself with a little more free time than expected, and felt it best if I did something productive with it."

In this case, 'productive' entailed packaging the current set of eclairs. From another cabinet nearby, Misha rummaged for a paper box, bringing it to the counter for assembly. From the corner of her eye, Misha watched the other girl. To outright offer advice seemed to be the wrong move, especially when she had no clue what the actual issue was in the first place. Therefore, Misha's plan was to observe for now.

"Well, I hope you saved any others that were not as satisfactory," Misha said as she finished folding the box and heading to a drawer to retrieve some tongs. "Even if they aren't the prettiest eclairs, for some, any pastry that breaks the monotony in life still brings joy."

One by one, Misha transferred the eclairs into the box. "Though I do wonder, if you will permit a bit of curiosity. Are these for your own enjoyment or for an assignment?" As far as Misha was aware, no one in her year was working on eclairs as an assignment, or would have had to. The other girl was likely in another year, but which?

tag(s): Amaya Kawahashi ━ words: 000 ━ notes:

by MIZO.❉ of ww

A fellow chef looking to be productive eh?  That was just fantastic, precisely what Amaya did not want to deal with as she attempted to fight her way through making French desserts.  Hopefully this girl was just going to do her own thing and leave Amaya to her work.  Any conversation about the eclairs was going to turn cold for her, and she didn't really dislike this girl.  Didn't know her at all really.  Avoiding an unpleasant subject would be preferable to getting dragged into an endless stream of questions about what she was doing.  Thankfully this girl didn't seem to recognize her, which was a small boon for Amaya - no need to have her family's tradition and standing brought into this too. 

Unfortunately the other girl decided to be helpful.  Gathering eclairs and putting them into a box for her, as if Amaya had any interest in actually presenting them to anyone.  She had to, of course, but she had no desire to do much more than turn the blasted things in for an underwhelming grade and then flee to the safety of a karaoke booth.  As she watched her unexpected compatriot working, Amaya thought that she did look a little familiar.  They probably had crossed paths in the hallways or shared a class or something.  Amaya admittedly didn't pay a ton of attention to her fellow culinary arts students other than Sora.  If they'd met before she certainly did not remember the occasion, and so she left it at that.  Her comment about breaking the monotony and bringing joy made Amaya scoff, her expression slightly upset before she returned to her hollow deadpan look.

"Heh.  Joy?  The only thing which these things bring is the awful monotonous tedium of preparing ingredients, mixing them and failing again and again.  Even if you succeed in making something resembling what they're supposed to look like, it's still failure.  So many better things to do with your time," Amaya replied dryly as she continued to stare down at the ingredients she'd fetched. The comments lingered for a few moments while she wondered why she was saying so much to this girl she barely knew.  Maybe the eclairs had gotten to her.  So much pent up frustration and not much of an outlet for it!

She looked up at Misha and added, "They are an assignment.. an assignment worthy of the next 'culinary genius' Kawahashi girl.  Maybe failure is an option."  Amaya's eyes suddenly went wide as she realized she'd outed herself as a Kawahashi.  She looked away and braced herself for questions that she knew were bound to come now that the other girl had heard her family name.

❝

Daintily, carefully, Misha finished packing the last of the eclairs into the paper box. Whoever would be taking it home was still to be determined, but not yet a priority. Into the refrigerator they went where they would wait, with Misha taking care to not get into the other girl's way.

The rancor hurled into the air was not unexpected, and Misha quietly returned to her cane as the other girl started to mix ingredients, who seemed to miss the point of why Misha was still packaging the first set of eclairs. Not that Misha minded - in the end, it told the pale-haired baker a bit more of the other girl's current mood.

The name of Kawahashi rang no bells - the other girl was likely from another year. Vaguely, the Russian could remember having to do eclairs as an assignment in the past, but was so trivial to her that the memory blended.

"Well, even geniuses may have an off day. And that is well and good - keep yourself running at 100% all the time and you'll burn yourself out." Misha said, tilting her head a bit and smiling. She glanced over to the state of the ingredients. "If you haven't gotten to mixing in the boiling water yet, then I would suggest slowing down." Misha looked into Kawahashi-san's eyes that seemed to be bracing for something.

"...the way you are looking at me expectantly...you seem to have a few on things on your mind, Kawahashi-san," Misha continued. "Mayhaps it is best to take care of those first, lest they interfere and cause more mishaps?"

tag(s): Amaya Kawahashi ━ words: 000 ━ notes:

by MIZO.❉ of ww

Amaya was not terribly pleased to hear herself being called a genius.  It would seem that this girl had heard something about the Kawahashi family after all.  The reputation of her family followed her like an ominous shadow of doom and reminder of her unfortunate destiny.  She really didn't appreciate being lumped in with her more famous parents and sisters though, not when it came to cooking.  Whereas they would appreciate the recognition Amaya resented the notion that she was a genius of the kitchen.  Sure she knew a lot about cooking but it wasn't as if it was something she'd picked up out of any interest in the subject.  Obligation for sure but any joy in it?  Not at all.  Her expression somehow turned even more dour as she attempted to forget the praise she had just been given, and even somewhat considered looking for an exit from the conversation all together.  Surely it wouldn't be that hard to find a reason to leave the kitchen and leave this student to her own project.

Yet she couldn't think of any good reason for doing so.  This girl knew she was here working on a project for a class, so it wasn't something Amaya could just abandon this far into it.  That would seem weird and abrupt; it would likely also attract even more attention than she had garnered just by having company here. So she just stood there glaring down at the ingredients before her, looking as if she very much wanted to murder them.  If such a thing was even possible.  The 'genius' of the culinary arts department had a reputation among her classmates as a girl who could cook anything and cook it just right for anyone to enjoy.  Super focused but ultimately the best cook in the whole class.. and she hated it.  Now, in this moment, she wondered why she kept doing this to herself.  She could easily just take on something simpler and get fine grades while not letting down her family and closest friend.

"Expectantly?  No.  Just usually people want to ask me questions about my family or my 'dreams for the future' in the culinary arts.  I guess I was expecting a question or maybe for you to ask for help with something," Amaya explained, hoping they could move on the dreadful topic of preparing food.  She pushed the bowl of ingredients to the side and looked Misha dead in the eyes with that same stoic distaste for life itself on her own face.

"I'm no genius," she added in frustration, "I'm just stuck doing this thing because I'm a Kawahashi.  Everyone is counting on me to do it, and I'll be breaking important promises if I don't.  Even if every second of this feels emptier and emptier.  Does that answer your question?"

❝

Misha's head righted herself into a more polite position, standing straight with her hands at the top of her cane in front of her again. While Misha could easily accept the notion that Kawahashi-san was not a genius in the strict sense of the word, she was still in Fukui, which meant she did have exceptional skill. But that wasn't the problem, was it. She could have been the greatest prodigy the Culinary Arts Department could have ever seen, but it would do no good if she was this miserable in the kitchen.

At the end, Kawahashi-san's story was a familiar one, and Misha started to gently lift and lower her cane against the floor, tapping lightly as she mulled over what she had learned so far. So, it seemed like the Kawahashi family was one that was heavily-focused on culinary arts. Perhaps her family also ran a bakery, and the girl in front of her was poised to inherit it. A small smile started to spread as Misha realized the slight irony. Her father, Tsubasa, cast off the family trade in order to start the Shirayama Bakery - in fact, amongst the Kitamura family, she and her cousin Miki were the oddities for actually following in their parents' footsteps.

But the Russian snapped back to reality - how would she help in this situation?

"Well, I asked no questions, just simply made an observation," Misha replied matter-of-factly, breifly lifting a hand off her hand in gesture. Of course, the obvious follow-up would be to ask about what promises were made or dive deeper into the family intrigue. But the blonde girl believed she knew better than to ask those questions. Instead, better to attack from a different angle, one she hoped was more unexpected.

"So, if Kawahashi-san would permit me the opportunity ask..." Misha's grey eyes narrowed as she looking into the other girl's eyes again. While still polite, Misha's voice took a much more serious tone. "What is it that would Kawahashi-san rather be doing instead of baking? Beyond these eclairs. If you were not a chef, what would you want to be?"

tag(s): Amaya Kawahashi ━ words: 000 ━ notes:

by MIZO.❉ of ww

Amaya still quite hoped for a cessation of the questioning on her studies.  It really wasn't good for her to keep wondering what else the other girl was about to ask her, wonder how long it was before she was asked about her family.  The famous Kawahashi family whose restaurants were the talk of Kyoto and Nishinomiya.  From their conversation so far Amaya was starting to see that this girl wasn't going to be direct about any such questions.  Or was she?  It was hard for Amaya in her heightened emotional state to really parse out the exact method of information gathering which Misha was employing.  She just wanted to be doing anything but staring down the barrel of more eclairs that had to be babied just to get them to be somewhat presentable.  Even waiting an hour for the local train with no form of entertainment to pass the time would have been preferable.

Yet there was something about this other girl that made Amaya feel a little less on edge after a time.  She wasn't confrontational, didn't seem to know much about Amaya's family either.  Or if she did, she wasn't saying anything about it.  Instead she did actually to seem to be very genuine in her interest in what Amaya was doing.  She'd even picked up on the fact that Amaya did not enjoy what she was doing as well; not even her closest friend Sora had been able to pierce the facade Amaya had crafted.  How much was she aware of if she could tell that?  No way she knew what Amaya would actually prefer to be doing right now, that wasn't something she had told anyone or so much as hinted at.  Except for her roommate who thought that she was in the vocal performance major.  That was an exception though. 

But when the other girl asked her directly what she'd rather be doing, Amaya couldn't control herself.  The answer was of course anything else, but especially singing - yet she couldn't really just say as much to anyone, let alone a stranger.  Instead of answering immediately she stared down into the bowl of ingredients and scowled more vehemently than she yet had since Misha had walked in.  Cooking.  She hated this with all her heart and her guest had dragged out her raw emotions on the topic even more than just making eclairs would have.  Amaya remembered all the hours of frustration, all the tears and torment that went into meals with no love or warmth in them.  How much she despised making each and every assignment this year, and especially the dessert from hell that were eclairs.  So upset was she that she placed a hand on the bowl of ingredients and with a low growl shoved them off the table.  As they hit the floor with a loud clatter, she looked over at Misha with a mix of anger and anguish on her face. 

"It doesn't matter what I'd rather be doing.  It's not a choice that I have," Amaya replied, trying not to let all of her flurrying emotions out at once, "Because I have to be... this.." She motioned to the kitchen around her and then looked away, "So everything is terrible."

❝

No fliching, no twitching, no reaction save for closing the eyes as the metal bowl echoed breifly as it clattered then settled. Not that Misha was unsurprised - she was aware that Kawahashi-san was getting rather heated, but not to the extent that potential property damage and asset loss was probable. Thankfully, dry ingredients were easy to replace and clean up, and at a glance, not much was lost.

<Мой мой...>

Misha sighed in her mother tongue, subtly releasing the tension inside her caused by Kawahashi-san's outburst. The Russian was between impressed and saddened by how Kawahashi-san side-stepped the question. Still, Misha felt that it was good that Kawahashi-san was venting now and not while trying to prep ingredients.

"Well Kawahashi-san has yet to tell me what what Kawahashi-san is supposed to be and why," Misha said, keeping her tone of voice matter-of-fact. She set aside her cane against another countertop and walked over to the fallen bowl. For a moment, the blonde contemplated whether or not it would be a good idea to start anew and measure out again or just wing it, but in the end, she set the bowl back onto another counter.

"But I do wonder, what Kawahashi-san would be if she were not Kawahashi-san," Misha said with a sigh as she headed towards one of the closets to grab a broom and dustbin. "Because...quite clearly, Kawahashi-san is not happy with whatever a Kawahashi-san is supposed to be."

Broom and pan in hand, Misha started with gathering the flour mix into a small pile. With a smile, she hummed softly the first song that came to mind - one of the few songs that her mother taught her before she passed. Misha knew that the real song was much slower, but she enjoyed her own faster take on it.

"<Ах, под сосно́ю под зелёною, cпать положи́те вы меня́. Ай, люли́-люли́, ай, люли́-люли́, cпать положи́те вы меня́.>"

Soft giggles interspersed between Russian lyrics as she handily cleaned up the spilled flour mix, carrying it gracefully to the bin, making sure to take a path around to give Kawahashi-san space.

tag(s): Amaya Kawahashi ━ words: 000 ━ notes:

by MIZO.❉ of ww

The fate of the eclair ingredients was of the least concern to Amaya, who had entirely enough of the French dessert by now.  Being trapped in the kitchen because of forces both out of her control and of her own making was heartbreaking for her.  Misha's words were partially lost on her as she stood there lost in thought.  She didn't like to disappoint people but keeping her promises was killing her passion for anything and everything.  Even brief escapes from it were only temporary respites that would end as soon as she returned to school.  Everyone expected that she was going to be the next great Kawahashi culinary genius who could make anything you requested at the drop of a hat.  Promises had been made to graduate in the same major as Sora, which just added to her problems.  Honestly there was a part of her that just wanted to run away from it all and just try to be who she wanted to be.  Amaya knew she couldn't do that, though.  Because that would let people down, make them sad or upset.  Something else that she could not allow to happen regardless of how she felt deep down.

Amaya did catch the last question that her compatriot asked her about what a Kawahashi was supposed to do and what she'd do if she wasn't a Kawahashi.  Really the answer wasn't as easy to pinpoint at first, but it became crystal clear in moments.  Because Misha was actually doing just the thing that Amaya's heart aches for her to do instead of cook.  Maybe it was just a simple little song that she'd incidentally chosen while working to clean up the mess on the floor.  It was all it took for Amaya to recall the stories she'd told her roommate about being in the vocal performance major and how wondrous it felt to imagine herself being there.  She turned away from Mihsa as these thoughts resurfaced.  No way to get to where she wanted to be, no love for where she was.  For a long few moments she fought the desire to flee the kitchen, her hands clenched into fists as a whirlwind of emotion suddenly slams into her. 

Without realizing it she starts singing on her own, the lyrics broken a bit as she tries to deal with the emotional torrent that's wracking her now.  It's a song she picked up from an idol group she follows, but she doesn't expect the other girl to know what it is.  Amaya doesn't really realize that she's singing either.  Her song is just out of instinct, attempting to cope with what she suddenly feels. That becomes so strong, though, that she feels as if she needs to balance herself or she'll fall over.  So she leans on the counter, lip quivering and tears forming at the corners of her eyes as her song drifts away.

"I-It doesn't matter.   I'm.. a Kawahashi, and we cook.  It's what we do and it's what I promised.. a lot of people.. w-what I'd do," she finally speaks, but is unable to get any other words out as she leans over the counter.

❝

As the dustpan filled and then emptied, Misha could hear another voice join hers. Once the last of the flour mix was taken care of, she set aside her tool to listen to the song. The Russian didn't recongize the song, but it sounded familiar, like something her younger sister would listen to.

Misha let her song finish so that Kawahashi-san's could take over, smiling at her the entire time. Somehow, some way, Misha felt that she finally managed to get Kawahashi-san to be just that bit more honest.

"Kawahashi-san has a beautiful voice. Has anyone told you that?" Misha asked as she finished clapping. "Since the kitchens are free for all students to reserve, well, mayhaps a passerby would have thought you were in the Music Department."

A soft chuckle escaped Misha's lips as she picked up the broom and dustpan a bit, walking over to the closet where they belong. "Have you ever tried singing in the Theatre Building's auditorium? It is impressively engineered." The blond paused as she quickly stuffed the broom and dustpan back into the closet, pivoting around with a grin as she face Kawahashi-san again.

"Did you know? When President Tsuga and I did our speeches to the student body for that last ceremony, we didn't need any microphones. Just our voices projecting out and reverberating through that hall." Immersed in that happy memory, Misha set off for another cabinet, meaning to get some ingredients again.

"Well. Most of the time the auditorium is booked. But if you get the rare chance to visit it while it is empty..." Misha trailed off and winked at Kawahashi-san. "Try out a bit."

tag(s): Amaya Kawahashi ━ words: 000 ━ notes:

by MIZO.❉ of ww

Amaya suddenly wondered if the other girl was toying with her.  Had Amaya tipped her hand so much that her compatriot could tell that singing was where her true passion lied?  Not only had she noticed Amaya's singing, but she also picked up on the possibility that Amaya would rather be in the music department instead.  Had word gotten out about what she'd told her roommate, to the point that people in the culinary arts courses had heard?  It was possible, but she didn't think that her roommate would gossip that much - or would she?  The dispassionate chef stared at Misha for a long while the other girl spoke to her.  As she listened, Amaya gripped the edge of the counter tensely, feeling exposed and cornered by the direction the conversation was going.  Whether Misha had meant to she'd hit a nerve.

The very suggestion that Amaya had ever or would ever have the chance to sing in the auditorium was preposterous.  Sure someone who was involved in the student council would have the opportunity to hear the echoes in that place, but not her.  She was just a cook who despised the art of cooking.  Locked into a major she had nothing but contempt for yet no choice but to see through to the end.  Too many people had been promised her dedication to the culinary arts for her to turn her back on it all now.  Her family expected her to continue the tradition of opening one's own restaurant.  Sora had only chosen to go here to Fukui because she wanted to go into the business with her.  As tempting as it was to try and sing in a big venue, no one would be happy if she did so.  To embrace singing was to throw away all the things she'd promised that she would do, and really.. there wasn't any future in entertainment.  As a Kawahashi she was almost guaranteed culinary success if she saw things through to the end.  It was, simply put, the right thing to do.

So why did the idea of doing it hurt so much?  Amaya looked away from Misha as she tried to discern what was making her so upset so often about this.  She couldn't deny that she simply felt completely empty at best when she was cooking things for classes.  The very thought of doing this as a job made her feel a pain in her chest, an ache.  Years and years of doing the same thing over and over again without any change in the cold feelings they brought her.  There was no way that she could stand it, promise or not.  But what could she do?  Slowly she looked up and over at Misha again - this time there were tears in Amaya's eyes as she tried hard to stay strong enough to avoid outing herself entirely.

"It's not like I'd ever have a chance to speak or sing there," Amaya replied with a raw, emotional edge to her voice that hadn't been there before.  She pounded a fist onto the countertop and continued, "I'm just a cook.. a Kawahashi can only be one, and everyone is counting on me. But... I can't do it."

Amaya slumped to the floor, out of sight behind the counter as she started to cry, "Okay, I'm.. I'm a fraud.. everyone wants me to be a cook.. and I can't do it.  I hate cooking!  I hate everything about it, I can.. barely stand being in a kitchen!  But I can't do what I love because I promised.. everyone.."  Amaya buried her face in her knees, all of her pent up sadness at being stuck in culinary arts gushing out.

❝

So, what went into choux pastry? Flour, water, butter, kosher salt, granulated sugar, vanilla, and-

Whatever train of thought Misha had while she was pulling out ingredients was interrupted by the tone of Kawahashi-san's voice followed by a slam. The blonde froze with a bag of flour in her hand as she looked over her shoulder, hiding her surprise with a blank expression. It was clear that Kawahashi-san previously was holding something back, but it never crossed Misha's mind that it was something this severe.

When Kawashi-san disappeared behind the counter, Misha deftly threw the bag of flour back into the closet and ran to Kawahashi-san, pausing briefly as she rounded the corner. It only took a moment to assess that Kawahashi-san wasn't hurt physically, but Misha continued to hesitate before cautiously approaching and kneeling at Kawahashi's side, pulling her in for a hug.

"It's okay, Kawahashi-san... You're okay. Kawahashi-san will be okay."

Misha was at a loss of words. She hide her surprise and worry behind a smile, trying to rock Kawahashi-san a bit while hugging her. In the following silence, the gears turned in the Russian's mind. The passing idle comparisons to her father was closer to the truth than she had thought. Kawahashi-san wasn't some genius having merely a bad day - for as skilled as she was, there was a truly deep-seated desire to...escape.

"...Kawahashi-san...will be okay. I will help...in any way I can," Misha said softly, trying to break the silence again with what few words she felt was safe to say. She wasn't even sure that Kawahashi-san was listening, or if she truly had the influence and ability to convince whoever needed convincing to let Kawahashi-san pursue something else. But what she was sure of, was that an awkward silence was detrimental.

And so, the older baker summoned the memories of her birth mother, starting the hum one of the few songs passed down to her, hoping it would sooth the girl in her arms.

tag(s): Amaya Kawahashi ━ words: 000 ━ notes:

by MIZO.❉ of ww

Suddenly all of Amaya's pent up frustrations and  anxieties about cooking spilled out through the shattered floodgates.  The things that she'd told her big sisters about becoming just as successful as them with her own chain of restaurants.  Proclamations and expectations that she would expand the Kawahashi culinary empire to new parts of Japan beyond Kyoto and Osaka.  Intimate promises with Sora that they'd graduate from school in the same major and then start up their own restaurant together.  All were things that she couldn't imagine herself enjoying doing, but none of which she was willing to go back on.  When she gave her word to someone her word was good, solid and eternally trustworthy.  For her to push back on them would be a betrayal of everything that people saw her as.  Everyone was counting on her to fulfill those promises, but she felt such pain and despair at the thought of following through on them.

So she just let it all out in sobs as a girl she'd just met held her in her arms.  No one had ever gotten this reaction out of her, especially in a kitchen.  Now that it'd started Amaya had no ability to stop it; months and years of pent up frustrations had been itching to get out.  And Amaya at long last was allowing them to flow forth in one big explosion of previously denied emotion.  Imagining the disappointed faces of her family and friends just made her cry more.  For a good many moments she just continued to sob into Misha's shoulder as her thoughts were blinded by the torrent of feelings.  Finally the tears started to ease and her breathing became a bit more regular.  Amaya still held on tight as if letting go of this lifeline would doom her to a disastrous life in the despair of the kitchen.

Would Misha really understand why she would prefer to be performing vocally?  As someone who had established herself as a baker was it really something that she would even remotely see as valid?  That promise of assistance resonated with Amaya.  Someone saw her pain and actually wanted to help her do what her heart desired instead of continuing to suffer in a major that caused her pain.  It took a lot for Amaya to let anyone into her inner sanctum, behind the facades she put up.  Now that Misha had gotten in, Amaya wanted desperately to trust her with this vulnerability.  So she continued to hold on tight as she finally began to find some words again.

"It's... probably pointless to try.  I w-was accepted because.. o-of my cooking," Amaya explained slowly, still fighting to get some of the words out, "B-but.. if you want to help, I-I.. I appreciate it.. I.. um.."

A long pause before she admitted, "My heart wants to chase a shooting star.. I want to go for singing and performance.  There's no future in it but.. I want to anyway.. i-is that wrong?"

❝

At times like these, the Misha felt that the best thing to do was to be a comforting presence, to remind Kawahashi-san that she was not alone. So, the baker smiled softly and hummed a distantly-remember lullaby until her classmate finally spoke up. At first, Misha wanted to refute the notion that it was futile to change majors, but the way Kawahashi-san trailed off indicated she had a little bit more to say, so Misha nodded and waited.

'To chase a shooting star.'

Misha had heard those kinds of words before. It was the path of an idol - one who brings joy to others by song and dance. She respected the art, even though she had her own reservations over how easily one could make their mark.

"It not wrong, Kawahashi-san," Misha replied warmly. "Indeed, it is a competitive industry you wish to break into. But, this is Fukui Academy after all, where students refine what talents they have so that they have as many advantages as possible."

The blonde-haired girl took a deep breath before shifting her tone into something more serious, but never let go of Kawahashi-san just yet.

"...Most students who changes their major are typically within a department. A digital artist found that she more adept with a cloth canvas. A guitarist found her voice was the more potent instrument. And so on," Misha explained, a hint of adoration in her voice. However, transferring departments is rare and as far as I have seen, essentially required a re-audition."

Slowly, Misha squeezed Kawahashi-san a little more. It was less an act of comfort and more for Misha's own sake, as she steeled herself and planned out her next moves.

"Frankly speaking, I am not sure how far my authority as the Student Council Vice President will take me. But, I will see who I can lean on so that you can get started on the transfer processes," Misha said, looking ahead. "Kawahashi-san going to have to really impress the teachers in the Music Department. But...if you sang as well as you did for me, then I think you'll have a good chance."

tag(s): Amaya Kawahashi ━ words: 000 ━ notes:

by MIZO.❉ of ww

If there was anything that Amaya had needed with regard to her school life, it was someone she could be honest with.  While she had tried her best to not let out her true feelings, they'd come flowing out.  Misha seemed to have quite a way with words.  Even if those words were implied rather than spoken to Amaya.  Allowing herself to cry and be honest with both herself and someone else actually something the girl had long had a strong need to do.  Without really thinking about it she hugged the other girl tightly so that she could hide herself from the world a bit longer.  Hide this weak child who could never let anyone down and therefore got herself into far too many things she disliked.

Finally she managed to calm herself enough to start considering the possibility that maybe her future wasn't written in stone.  Perhaps the student council vice president had a point - she could audition for the music program and try to prove that she was good enough to be accepted into it.  If the culinary arts test was any indication, the musical audition exam was liable to be incredibly tough.  This was a school with a very lofty reputation for students in the arts.  Some girl who wanted to switch majors after being accepted for a very different one wasn't going to have it easy.  What would she tell Sora if she got accepted into a different major?  What would her family think?  Wouldn't they be disappointed that she was throwing away the Kawahashi culinary traditions for something that was at best very unlikely to bear any fruit?  Amaya didn't let go of the other girl, but she did manage to actually speak.

"I just know that I... c-can't keep going in the culinary track.  Just thinking about it makes me sadder than you could imagine..." Amaya told Misha, shuddering at the mention of the idea alone.  She rested her head on Misha's shoulder as she continued, "My parents and my sisters are all really successful cooks and business people.  I'm sure they wanted me to follow in the family footsteps too.  But I can't.. th-that's not who I am."

She took a deep breath before she asked, "So.. um.. d-do you really think I have a chance to pass the musical arts audition?  It's got to be really difficult since the standards of Fukui are so high, right?  I just sing for fun right now.. any chance I can get, but still for fun."

With a faint hint of hopefulness in her voice she added, "Um.. i-if I got in, I'd be happy to record a song to promote the school.. and that bakery you mentioned."

❝

Misha relaxed the hug a little bit, now that Kawahashi-san seemed to be calmed down. The baker considered herself incredibly lucky to find her calling so early. In a brief moment of introspection, she pondered - was this how her parents felt in their youth? Strangled by family expectations? Even with her grandfather's secret backing, there was no guarantee that the Shirayama Bakery would be successful, but...the old man had faith. So Misha felt compelled to have faith in her classmate.

"You don't need to bribe me for anything, Kawahashi-san," Misha teasingly said with an airy chuckle before shifting to a more earnest tone. "I am glad to help a fellow student, and hopefully soon, a friend." The Russian winked and smiled at Kawahashi-san playfully before shifting her arms a bit to just loosely hug the dark-haired girl. There was a soft sigh as Misha looked ahead in the distance, trawling through her memories.

"I think, as with any of the other departments, what they are looking for is latent talent that could be refined," Misha explained, tilting her head and pausing to try and word how she felt. "From those who I've talked to in the Music Department, the audition seemed to be more than just being able to replicate the song, but also how creative one can be. In the end, I can't speak for the teachers, but you at least have shown me that you do have a singer's talent, and thus, you do stand a chance of impressing them."

Slowly, Misha let go of Kawahashi-san and stood up. "Well, while I'd rather not dampen your spirts now, but...before worrying about an audition in future, there's still a task that still needs to be taken care of today," the blonde said, dusting off her dress before offering Kawahashi-san a hand and a bright smile. "How about together, we make the last eclairs you'll ever have to make."

tag(s): Amaya Kawahashi ━ words: 000 ━ notes:

by MIZO.❉ of ww

There was no way for Amaya to go back to pretending she was just another culinary arts student who was 'super focused' on what she was doing.  Now that she had exposed her true feelings to Fukui's Student Council Vice President, it was impossible.  You just didn't shove those feelings back down and put a lid on them.  Being honest with the baker had made her feel both saddened at first and oddly comforted now.  They had never met before today to her knowledge but Misha was simply an easy person to talk to.  Even if she did have a way with getting you to admit things without outright asking.  Something about Misha spoke to her trustworthiness as well, which was why Amaya was able to ask about her chances of entering the music major.  For a little while Amaya stayed on the floor as she gathered her thoughts and pushed away the unpleasantness that lingering eclairs left. 

Really she was of mind to just leave them unfinished and accept a lower mark in exchange for freeing herself of the stress of making them.  Then she chastised herself, knowing that maintaining good grades even though she hated the kitchen would be best.  To show the people making those decisions that she was a dedicated student with her current pursuits and therefore wold continue that in the major which spoke to her heart.  Another batch of eclairs was an unpleasant proposal but it was the only way to move forward for now.  She did take solace in the fact that her unexpected rescuer was going to assist her with them.  More importantly that Misha did think that she had the talent to impress the  Music Department.  That was enough to get her going, and Amaya at last finally took Misha's hand and rose from the floor.

She looked to Misha and sighed, "Fine, lets finish these stupid pastries.  I'm sure it's going to be easier with another set of hands."

Without further words she went over to get the remaining ingredients, her emotionless face returning as she gathered them.  This was an important task that even an aspiring idol needed to battle through.  Not everything about becoming one was going to be pleasant or purely fun, so it was kind of a test of her resolve.  Her first step toward getting there was to complete her current homework to maintain good grades at Fukui.  Unpleasant but necessary.  Time to put the Kawahashi culinary skill to work to make the best eclairs she could possibly make!  A strange thing happened as she grimly set the ingredients down on the counter and looked over at Misha ominously.  There was a spark of joy in her.. when she was about to make something she hated.  It was the kindness and help of this other girl, the knowledge that she wouldn't have to make these darn things ever again that created it.  So after taking another deep breath, she looked over at Misha and smiled for the first time all afternoon.

"Thank you.. I mean it.  I wouldn't be able to get through this without your help," Amaya told her, some relief creeping into her voice.  She then thought aloud, "So they're looking more for what you can do with the music rather than just performing it.  Interpretations of existing songs is one thing... but what if someone wrote their own song and performed that instead?  Maybe that would stand out a bit more than just singing something pretty."

She thought about it as she instinctively started preparing the final eclairs' ingredients.  Then she looked over at Misha again and asked, "Can I ask you something?  A request I guess.. call me Amaya.  That's more me than the family name alone.  I'd appreciate it."

❝

The last eclairs that Kawahashi-san would ever make - A bit grandiose, but it seemed like it was a good enough motivation. No recipes laid out on the table, no recitation to refresh memory as they gathered the requisite ingredients. For better or worse, the two girls seemed to have the process deeply ingrained in them. Misha's own mind was already queing up the steps - speed was paramount given the finicky nature of the dough, but in the corner of her eyes, she could finally see Kawahashi-san smile.

The blonde let Amaya take the lead, taking on the steps that could be done in parallel and quietly nodding to affirm what was echoed regarding the audtions, then nodding even more vigourously on the matter of an original song. While not all students made their own songs in order to be accepted, all the ones who Misha knew made a new song did find a seat at school. But before the blonde could vocalize it, she was caught by surprise by a sudden request.

Though subtle, Misha made no attempt to hide her contented expression. "Of course, Amaya-san. I understand." Even going by given names, Misha's habits still appended polite suffixes. "You remind me of my father," Misha added. "Often, he would say, 'Shirayama-san is my father, simply call me Tsubasa'. He did that to distane himself from my grandfather's, and later his brother's law firm."

After another chuckle came a sigh, followed by a soft humming. This time, it was not a song from her late mother, but from her younger sister. Misha didn't know the song as well, but would happily sing along whenever the two sisters worked in the Shirayama bakery. And when the Russian got to the chorus, she was a little more confident, singing quietly -

I've taken off running! Off to strengthen my feelings
When I'm worried I'll grip your hand tight
You don't have to wait to be who you want to be
My dream will one day shine forth!

With two sets of hands the work went by much faster, a good thing when it came to the finicky nature of eclair dough. But with the eclairs piped and in the oven, Misha breathed a sigh of relief, letting out a moderate 'Ura~"

tag(s): Amaya Kawahashi ━ words: 000 ━ notes:

by MIZO.❉ of ww