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“Baked Alaska,” Luluka says one morning, apropos of nothing.
“Pardon?” Kurea inquires from where she's wiping the display case clean. She tips her head to the side, a blue tress catching the golden autumn light spilling in through the pâtisserie's windows.
As always, she is the very portrait of loveliness.
As always, Luluka keeps her thoughts to herself.
In lieu of crossing the room to join Kurea–lest she be tempted to tuck that hank of hair behind the pâtissière's ear, to touch more than she is allowed—Luluka drops her attention to the ice cream dish in front of her. She scrapes her spoon idly through the remains of her sundae.
“Baked Alaska,” Luluka continues, her monotonous voice an un-tremulous line. “Do you know how to make it?”
Kurea's head lists the other direction and she presses a fingertip to her chin.
“It's a notoriously difficult recipe; even expert pastry chefs struggle with it. I certainly haven't tried,” she admits as a small smile curls the corners of her mouth. “But it would make a great addition to Patisserie Chuchu's menu! We could offer all sorts of flavors, given our ice cream selection.”
“Ah.” Luluka's brow furrows. As usual, her reticence has caused her to be misunderstood. “I—”
“Fufufu!” Mashutan giggles from where she's been hiding out from the other customers in Luluka's purse. Now that the shop is empty, the faerie has no need to conceal herself. “The sponge cake would have to be of the finest crumb to suit Lulu's tastes!”
“And the ice cream has to be the yummiest flavor! To be the-the yummiest!” Sushutan unwinds from Kurea's wrist like a snap bracelet locking back into place.
Mashutan eyes her smaller companion as she props her chin on her paw, unimpressed. “Isn't that redundant?”
As the faeries launch into a bombastic discussion of the most delicious ice cream flavors (which is silly of them in Luluka's opinion, since all ice cream flavors are the most delicious), Luluka's eyes drift back to Kurea. She's giggling at their tiny friends' antics, concealing her sweet smile behind her fingertips in the delicate way that makes Luluka's chest flutter.
Hm. Perhaps she should invest in antacids.
“Mint chocolate chip!” Sushutan cries
“Revolting!” Sushutan jolts, face darkening “Royal milk tea!”
“Bubblegum!” Sushutan giggles.
“Juvenile!" Mashutan counters.
“Purple yam!”
“Super strawberry matcha panko parfait, shu!” the tanuki faerie squeals loud enough to break glass.
“Oho! Now that's more like it, mashu!” Mashutan sniffs with pride.
“I'd stick to a simple flavor for a first attempt,” Kurea's voice carries out of the kitchen. As Luluka has watched the faeries’ back and fourth, Kurea has stolen away, only to emerge from the back moments later, her arms laden with a pink and gold tome. "This was written by the owner's mentor, Signore del Monica—its his most prized possession, so we must handle it with care."
Mashutan and Sushutan float onto the table as Kurea takes a seat across from Luluka, flipping through the index of the cookbook. When she turns to the recipe proper, the faeries coo in awe—even Luluka cannot help the small exhale at the image before her.
Wreathed in tongues of blue and orange flame, the Baked Alaska is a monument of icy frills, bisected to reveal a marbled core. It is the perfect union of fire and ice. Of pâtisseries et glaces. Of Luluka and—
She looks to Kurea, only to find endless warmth in her goldenrod eyes. Kurea reaches across the table to touch the tip of her middle finger to Luluka's.
Something in Luluka's spine revolts. There's flashes of a shadow curtaining her vision, the sensation of corrupted power ebbing into her veins as she eagerly allows herself to be overtaken by Agein's proffered darkness.
Do traces of it still linger on her skin?
On instinct, Luluka curls her hand into a fist, desperate to spare Kurea of any potential contamination. Finding herself unable to bear her partner's softness any longer, Luluka looks away. Out of the corner of her eye she sees Kurea's smile falter, only to be replaced moments later by a smaller melancholic quirk of her lips. It's a look of understanding Luluka does not deserve.
Tactful as ever, Kurea does not linger on the interaction, choosing instead to return her attention to the recipe.
"As I was saying," she continues, tracing her fingernail along the outline of the cake. "I think that basic flavors would make for a superior first attempt. I wouldn't want to risk getting lost in pairing combinations when the focus should be on the technique." she adds with a wink.
"What flavors would you choose, shu?" Sushutan inquires, perching herself upon Kurea's shoulder.
Kurea closes her eyes, dark lashes fluttering on her cheeks for a moment. Luluka watches her think, enraptured by the process of deduction happening behind Kurea's micro-expressions. When Kurea's eyes flick open, they are burning with decisiveness.
"This recipe calls for a basic vanilla sponge cake with layered Neapolitan ice cream," she explains. "But I think I can improve upon that. I'll use a lemon genoise as the base with a raspberry ice cream filling."
"How refreshing!" Mashutan gasps.
"So how about it, Luluka?" Kurea asks, her eyes twinkling with excitement. "Would you like me to make you a raspberry-lemonade Baked Alaska?"
Luluka looks down at the book, at the recipe emblazoned upon the page.
"No," she says in her typical monotone.
The other three balk, Mashutan even going so far as to throw her arms up in a oyakusoku pose.
"No?" Kurea echoes, looking more mystified than hurt.
Luluka shakes her head, confirming her words. "No."
She pauses, sliding the book over to her side of the table.
"Because I want to make it for you."
Twenty minutes later sees Luluka standing in Patisserie Chuchu's kitchen, the Pre-Kit gloss having supplied her with a lavender version of Kurea's uniform. Even the faeries have gotten in on the fun, using their magic to don small copies of their partners' outfits. On the island before them is Owner Asai's precious cookbook resting alongside the ingredients Luluka will use in her great endeavor: eggs, sugar, cream, lemons, raspberries, butter, cornstarch, and cake flour. It seems simple enough.
Kurea seems convinced otherwise.
"Are you sure you don't want to start with a bombe?" she asks Luluka, brows drawn together in concern. "It'll help you get a feel for the Baked Alaska's construction."
"I want to start here," Luluka announces.
"I see." Kurea bites her lip. Luluka knows her well enough to understand that she's battling between expertise and politeness. "A… a genoise isn't as easy as a sponge cake. All you need for that is a stand mixer with a whisk attachment, you wouldn't have to worry about the more advanced techniques to achieve leavening."
"I want to do this," Luluka repeats.
"A-and you don't have to worry about making the ice cream from scratch," Kurea continues to fret. "We can use some that we have on hand, or even make it using condensed milk instead of custard. You'll have to be careful not to scramble the egg—."
"Claire," Luluka turns to her partner, resolute. Kurea appears taken aback to hear her English name after so long, cheeks stained pink.
Luluka continues to speak in English: "I want to do it this way. For you."
For some reason, Kurea's cheeks are luminescent. Her mouth works soundlessly, but before she has time attempt a reply, a guest appears in the kitchen's doorway. It's the wealthy auntie Reiko who frequents the shop, her toy breed dog tucked away under one arm. It paws at her, whimpering urgently.
"Pardon, young ladies!" she says, tapping a handkerchief to her cheek in embarrassment. "Might one of you be able to provide me the restroom key? I need to take my insulin."
"Of course, ma'am!" Kurea turns to her, overflowing with hospitality. She trots out of the kitchen, casting a wavering smile over one shoulder at Luluka. "Good luck!"
Luluka nods once resolutely. As she pulls up her sleeves, the faeries float back to provide her ample space to work. Eyes narrowed in determination, Luluka seizes her first egg, holding it up to the light.
"I will not," she whispers, her words a solemn vow, "scramble the egg."
Luluka scrambles the egg.
It's more than that, though. After Luluka had attempted to layer the ingredients in a greased bowl (and had then been forced to unceremoniously scrape it out onto the baking sheet) the Baked Alaska emerged from the oven as a undulating puddle sloshed over a cake as thick as a rolled omelette.
Luluka stares at the monstrosity that she had slaked hours into creating, feeling her eyes glaze over in a cocktail of shame and disbelief. She is slathered up to her elbows in an abomination of ingredients that would have the Japanese Ministry of Health and Welfare cocking their eyebrows. She can feel something fat-based solidifying under her fingernails. It will take days to wash the cake flour out of her hair.
Kurea, Luluka thinks as she feels a tiny portion of her soul escape with her next breath. I've failed you.
"You're finally done!" Mashutan trumpets from the corner of the kitchen, where she and Sushutan have been busying themselves with a game of pop-up pirate they'd pilfered from the cafe. Sushutan is floating close behind her, and Luluka feels her face go dark with their approach.
She turns towards them, shielding the monstrosity behind her back and shaking her head with such force that the flour creates a fine cloud around her.
"It's not done," she lies, but even her monotone cannot trick Mashutan, who has grown wise to even the most subtle changes in Luluka's body language.
"Oho? Not done, mashu?" the kitsune faerie presses a skeptical paw to her chin and attempts to glide over Luluka's shoulder "Then… what's the next step?"
"Wait—" Luluka chokes, flinging out her hand to catch her faerie friend like a fly ball. "…for it to cool down," she finishes lamely.
"Luluka is right!" Shushutan comes to her rescue with an informative chirp. "It's important to wait for pastries to cool, shu!"
It does her little good, as Kurea chooses that moment to stroll into the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron.
"Sorry to bother you while you're working, I just need to grab another carton of spumoni from the walk-in," she says. "Auntie Reiko came back for seconds and—ah."
Her voice catches in her throat as she espies the terror Luluka has been attempting to conceal from the faeries. Even as Luluka turns to her with a hangdog expression, Kurea is trying to keep her smile fixed in place, eyes swollen to comical proportions.
"Kurea," Luluka says, doing her best to keep her voice even. She wants to say 'it's not what it looks like', but it very much is.
Luluka has destroyed the Baked Alaska.
"O-oh," the corners of Kurea's lips twitch and her eyes curve up into crescents as she claps her hands beside her cheeks. "Your presentation is very… c-creative, Luluka-chan."
Luluka takes the 'chan' tacked onto her name like a bullet to her heart. Kurea is trying so hard to be nice.
"I, um," Kurea stutters, approaching the 'pastry' with robotic steps. The faeries move away in stunned silence, floating like ice cubes through the air. Luluka has never seen them so still, even when pretending to be accessories.
"I. Hmm," Kurea continues, voice pitching up as she hums. "Luluka, how long did you freeze the ice cream layers before you put this in the oven?"
"I didn't," Luluka responds. "I thought it would save time since they were frozen anyway."
"And," Kurea folds her hands and for a moment Luluka thinks she is praying with the way she squeezes her eyes shut, bringing her fingertips to her lips. "You made sure not to break the egg whites when you were beating them, yes?"
Luluka frowns, brows drawn close together, "You need to break the egg shells to get to the whites though, right?"
Kurea must certainly be praying now with the way she threads her fingers and holds them to her chest. She smiles at the ceiling as if gazing upon the heavens, luminous tears beading on her lashes. She is the sacred image of Kannon, nirvana reached through the most sublime of pain.
"I'm sorry."
Kurea snaps out of her trance, startled to hear the confession. Luluka supposes she must be the very image of contrition at the moment—she certainly feels guilty enough for having wasted ingredients, time, and Kurea's patience.
"Sorry?" Kurea cocks her head to the side. "For what, Luluka?"
"I…" Luluka struggles to begin, balling her fists and refusing to meet her partner's eyes. "It didn't turn out perfect. It didn't even turn out well."
To Luluka's surprise, Kurea chuckles, although its not an unkind thing.
"Like I said: even the most seasoned patissier would struggle with this recipe," she says. "I would never hold you to that standard."
But her warmth makes Luluka shrink into herself even more.
"But you deserve perfect!" Luluka cries, startling Kurea and the faeries alike.
Mashutan floats close, pressing a little paw to Luluka's shoulder. "Luluka…"
"You deserve so much more than what I've been able to gi—" Luluka begins, but is cut off by an important rapping on the kitchen door. The faeries retreat to behind the fridge,
"Hello, hello!" Reiko chirps, bustling into the private conversation with all the tact of a self-important cat. "So sorry to interrupt you ladies, but I need to use the potty! Kurea-chan, would you be a dear and grab the toilet key for me?"
"I…" Kurea blinks, startled by Reiko's sudden and uncharacteristic rudeness. "Yes, of course, one moment."
Kurea leaves to fetch the key, but Reiko stays behind in the kitchen, sweeping her gaze over the ruinous mountain of filth and dishes that Luluka has left behind.
"Oh my." She presses a hand to her cheek, shooting a mocking glance at Luluka. "Quite a bit of trouble in the kitchen today, eh dear?"
"Quite," Luluka says, not bothering to let the wealthy woman get to her.
Reiko hums, seemingly put off by Luluka's refusal to rise to the jab. She shifts her oversized bag, bereft of her doggie, from one arm to the other as she continues to peruse the room.
Luluka retreats to her failure of a cake, reaching out to poke one of the crispy floes of meringue suspended in a watery bath. It crumbles miserably beneath her fingertip and the remains of Luluka's confidence follow suit.
Before Luluka has any more time to marinate in self-pity, Kurea returns with the toilet key in tow. "Here's the key, Reiko-san—and your spumoni sundae is waiting for you at your usual table."
"Oh, thank you, Kurea-chan!" Reiko gushes, taking the key and strolling out into the front of the building. Kurea and Luluka are left in an awkward silence, broken only by Sushutan.
"Luluka, you shouldn't be so hard on yourself!" the tanuki faerie says. "Not even Kurea was perfect at first."
"That's right." Kurea smiles, holding up a finger to emphasize her faerie's words. "Only practice makes perfect, Luluka—and even if I've practiced a lot, I'm far from perfect."
Luluka nods once, not entirely convinced. Her eyes are still trained on the mess she made, her heart becoming acerbic in her chest. It was supposed to be a gift for Kurea, and she absolutely botched it.
Kurea strolls past her, now tapping her finger to her chin. "Maybe using a visual from the cook book would be helpful? I think it shows all the stages of meringue in the chapter on basics."
She peers around the countertops, thoughtful expression clouding over in concern. "Luluka, do you remember where you put it?"
"It should be right over here," Luluka says, strolling over to the parcel of clean countertop she'd reserved just for the book. But there's nothing there save for a stark rectangle framed in a dusting of flour. "It's gone."
"Gone?" Kurea's voice pitches up in anxiety as she joins Luluka's side. "No, no, no! Asai-sensei trusted it with me! I can't believe I lost it—"
"No, I lost it," Luluka corrects her with great urgency. "This isn't your fault, Kurea."
"Wait one moment!" Mashutan gasps. "Didn't you say this book was a precious gift to the owner from his sensei?"
Kurea nods, her face consumed with guilt. "Yes, from his days as a student. He learned all the basics from this cookbook, as did I."
Luluka jolts with realization, sharing a knowing look with Mashutan.
"One could argue that an item with that level of importance and sentimentality could easily produce a makoto jewel," Luluka deduces. "But only Pochitan is able to sense their presence, or if they've been stolen."
"Even so, your hypotheses are rarely incorrect," Mashutan counters. "It would be wise to operate under the assumption that this is the work of the Phantom Thieves."
"Reiko-san was did come in here earlier for the restroom key," Kurea points out. "Luluka, did you see the book just before she came in? Perhaps she could have been one of them in disguise."
"I don't remember," Luluka admits. "And it would be unwise to jump to conclusions without any evidence." Her brow furrows. "I would hate to accuse Reiko-san while she's enjoying her sundae."
Kurea nods once, her expression echoing the gravity of the situation. "An unacceptable error, by Luluka's standards."
"But her behavior while you were gone was more than a little suspicious, with the way she was needling me," Luluka continues, recalling Reiko's uncharacteristically cruel behavior.
"Needling you?" Kurea frowns. "That doesn't sound like Reiko-san at all, she's typically so kind and jovial!"
"I thought she might just be in a bad mood, but…" Luluka trails off. She was so distracted by self deprecation that she hadn't even clocked the woman's uncharacteristic behavior—and what was more was the fact that she didn't have her dog with her. He had seemed so upset earlier in the day that Kurea was perplexed that Reiko was without him—
Wait.
No, the dog hadn't been upset. It had been alerting her.
In a mental rush of lily petals, a bead of light glides around Luluka's eyes.
"Her dog!" she says at the same time as Kurea, the girls locking eyes and rushing out into the seating area.
Reiko looks like she's just about to leave, tapping her lips clean with her fanciful cloth and leaving behind a blotch of scarlet lipstick.
"Reiko-san!" Kurea cries. The auntie just about jumps out of her skin at the girls' sudden approach, clutching her handkerchief to her chest. "Where is your dog?"
"W-why, I—" Reiko stutters, eyes bulbous behind her sunglasses. She takes a moment to compose herself, smoothing a hand down her designer blouse. "He's at home napping—"
"That can't be true," Luluka cuts her off with a sharp glare. "Because that dog is a trained medical alert dog."
"P-pardon me?" Reiko chokes. "How rude! I have no medical conditions to speak of! I'll have you know, I'm a perfectly healthy young lady."
"That's a lie," Kurea accuses, her sweet voice becoming chilled. Luluka can feel the eerie energy of her deductions radiating off of her like a block of ice. "Earlier today, you needed to use the restroom so you could administer your insulin."
"Your dog was alerting you that your blood sugar was high," Luluka continues. "And what's more is that you've just had a second treat. Without your service animal, how would you know when it was time to take more insulin?"
"I—I—" Reiko is beginning to sweat, fat droplets beading up on her too-thick foundation. "Well, I certainly don't need a stupid dog to tell me when to take my insulin! I can simply run a glucose test myself!"
"I wouldn't want a guest to have a medical emergency—would it be appropriate of us to request to see inside your bag?" Kurea gestures, her sweet expression belying her intentions. "Just to make sure you have your kit with you?"
"Very inappropriate indeed!" Reiko shrieks, clutching the bag to her side protectively. "You girls are being so—so—like so totally rude right now! Step off, girlfriends!"
The imposter Reiko slaps her hands on her mouth as if to contain any further slang. Luluka sniffs once, unimpressed.
"Give up the recipe book, Ageseine," she orders.
The fake growls, and in a whirl of costume fabric and cold cream, Ageseine hurls her disguise at the detectives. Clutching the recipe book to her chest, she flees for the door.
Once untangled from the cloth, Luluka and Kurea waste no time in pursuing.
"This is so wack, I thought I'd pulled it off!" Ageseine bemoans, mussing her peachy hair as she sprints away. "It's so totally your fault, Luluka! You always made that ice cream look mad yummy, I just had to be stupid and stick around to try it, ugh!"
"Ah!" Kurea perks up as the three come to a standstill underneath the amber halo of a street light. "And—what did you think?"
"Huh?" Ageseine freezes in place.
"Was the sundae to your standards?" Kurea asks, hands clasped before her. The image of Kannon glows with sincerity, blinding the other two girls. Ageseine is forced to don her shades, turning her back to the detectives and lowering her head in shame.
"It—it was…" she mumbles before whipping around to face Kurea with a thumbs-up, tears of joy streaming down her face. "IT WAS DA BOMB, GIRL! YOU ARE, LIKE, CRAZY TALENTED AT SUNDAE MAKING!"
"Hooray!" Kurea cheers, cheeks aglow in joy. "Another happy customer!"
"Kurea…" Luluka whispers, gesturing towards the transformation trinket dangling from her neck.
"Ah, right!" Kurea jumps to attention.
"Oh duh—the battle!" Ageseine agrees, holding up a pair of peace signs. "Lies, envelop!" She cheers whilst summoning a yellow hibiscus blossom into existence. "So very fly, Hanninda!"
With a puff of her breath, the hibiscus petals flutter onto the cookbook, corrupting the makoto jewel within. With a self-assured smirk, Ageseine hurls the book towards Luluka and Kurea just as it is cocooned with a dark glow.
The Hanninda bursts into being, golden petals swirling around the towering monster. It has taken the form of a cookbook, its open pages displaying an example of ruined meringue.
Luluka chokes.
"Ohoho!" Ageseine performs a princess-like cackle, concealing her mouth behind the back of her hand. "Looks like you've got some practicing to do, Lu~lu~ka~" she mocks. "Don't wanna disappoint your little girlfriend a second time.
"Or, well." Ageseine smirks down her nose as Luluka. "I guess it'd be a third time. You did totally try to gank her, after all."
Luluka's can feel her pupils constrict in rage, gritting her teeth as the gyaru taunts her.
"Luluka!" Kurea's hand upon hers snaps Luluka out of her rage. "Focus on the Hanninda!"
Luluka questions how she was able to focus on anything else with the monster lumbering towards them, intent on attacking.
"Right," she agrees with a resolute nod.
"Open! Shine Arcana Rod!" Luluka seizes the charm on her necklace, allowing it to adopt its full size. Her makoto jewel coalesces in her hands and she fits it into the ribbon on the neck of the rod. "Pretty Cure wake up time—shine lily white!"
As a shower of pink and white sparkles ensconces Luluka, Kurea removes her own necklace.
"Open!" she orders, transforming the charm into a perfume bottle and affixing her makoto jewel to its throat. "Top of Lily fragrance! Pretty Cure wake-up time! Floral spin!"
With a whirl of the flower charm upon the flacon, Kurea spritzes the atomizer, pirouetting through the coruscating wave of blue and white droplets it produces.
"Bloom!" Kurea cries as the transformation wraps around her.
"Flower tap!" Luluka completes her transformation into Cure Arcana, emerging from the glittering light bedecked in her white and pink costume, veiled in gossamer white. "The white light that shines upon truth! Star Detective Cure Arcana."
Kurea is not far behind, the blue lights parting to reveal Cure Eclair, dressed in tiered skirts of aqua and cream silk. She leaps forth to join Luluka's side. "Awaken! The fragrance of inner truth! Star Detective Cure Eclair!"
Without thinking, the girls clasp hands, pulling one another into a ballroom promenade.
"Together we are: Star Detective Pretty Cure!" they declare in unison. "We'll show you our answer!"
"Ugh, the Takarazuka of it all!" Ageseine sticks out her tongue in mock disgust. "Hanninda, smoke those precures!" She snaps her fingers, pointing decisively at the magical girls before her.
"Ha! Nin! Da!" the monster trumpets, ripping a handful of broken egg whites from its pages and making to hurl it at the precures.
Both girls are quick to dodge, dashing in opposite directions and flanking the creature.
This is a waste of time, Cure Arcana thinks, eyes narrowed at the Hanninda. Her grip tightens around her staff. I have to put an end to this so I can fix that Baked Alaska.
A clock-face of stars manifests around Cure Arcana as she leaps into the air.
"Arcana star shine!" she incants, gathering the aureate energy and expelling it towards the Hanninda.
The blast collides with the monster, who is just about to toss another handful of egg whites. It topples backwards with the force and Cure Arcana seizes her chance for a direct attack, winding up her fist.
But just as she is about to land a blow on the inside of the Hanninda's spine, the tome makes to slam shut. It is only Arcana's quick thinking that prevents her from being crushed as she flips her Shine Arcana Rod horizontally, wedging it between the pages. She strains with the effort of keeping the rod from buckling, sweat gathering on her brow.
"Arcana!" Cure Eclair cries from outside of the book. "Sparkle ti—"
"No!" Cure Arcana cries in an effort to prevent Eclair from activating her power-up. Her biceps are beginning to tremble. "Answer and Mystique aren't here to back us up! If you get dizzy, you'll be a sitting duck!"
"Dizzy!" Eclair exclaims, much to Luluka's bewilderment. Her confusion is cleared a moment later as bright light suffuses the Hanninda's pages. "Eclair illusion!"
"Oh Hanninda-san!" Eclair's voice taunts. "This way!"
"Ha-hanninda?" the monster stutters and begins to whirl around with Cure Arcana inside—its movements suggest that it's attempting to follow the barrage of clones that Cure Eclair just summoned. Before long, the centrifugal force is enough to dislodge Arcana from its clutches. She performs an elegant backflip in the air, sliding several feet to land beneath the spotlight of the street lamp just as Eclair dismisses her clones.
"Precure!" Sushutan shouts.
"Now's your chance, mashu!" Mashutan instructs.
They're right; the Hanninda is well and fully totaled, tipping in circles before collapsing to the ground with whorls for eyes. Ageseine clamors over to it, already shrieking.
"As IF! Get your sorry butt up, stat!" she demands.
"Without Answer and Mystique, I'll need your help!" Cure Arcana addresses the faeries. Mashutan and Sushutan turn to one another with resolute nods, joining their paws together. An indigo glimmer forms between them, merging into a brilliant iolite makoto jewel. Arcana affixes the new jewel to her staff, pointing it at Eclair's chest.
A dazzling glow radiates before her partner, and Eclair steps towards Arcana, framed by her extended arm. Setting the Shine Arcana Rod afloat, Arcana holds Eclair by the small of her back, following the instincts of the magic conjured between them. Balanced on one foot, Eclair falls backwards into an elegant arch, her arms extended like a ballerina. Upon her face is a placid smile reserved just for Luluka, her vermilion eyes lidded and aglow.
Feeling the physical and emotional weight of her partner's trust, Arcana reaches into the light gleaming before Eclair's chest, seizing the handle of something just inside. As she extracts her arm, a fanciful pommel emerges from the light, followed by the glistening length of a rapier. Arcana flips the handle, fitting it into Eclair's waiting hand as the girl straightens in her arms.
"Boo! Utena rip-off!" Ageseine jeers from where she's attempting to rouse the Hanninda in vain.
Arcana ignores her, seizing the Shine Arcana Rod and holding it aloft. Eclair follows suit with her longsword—The Choux Rapier, the magic provides—crossing the weapons midair.
"Urk!" Ageseine chokes, hauling her butt to safety behind a bench as the power coalesces between the Precures.
"All that my heart longs for, fulfill," Eclair chants.
"And be yourself my ally's in love's battle," Arcana incants.
"Precure!" the two call out in unison. "Dual Lily Fortune!"
Spectral lily buds form in the air around them, releasing grand beams of white and ultramarine light as they blossom. They festoon themselves through the air like living filigree, surrounding the Hanninda.
"Curetto case closed!" the precures declare, turning their back to the creature as it is overtaken by light.
"Ha! Nin! Daaaaaa!" the monster cries in agony as it dissolves to nothing. In its wake, the cookbook rests unblemished upon the asphalt, the makoto jewel lying innocuously upon its cover. Before Ageseine can run over to snatch the jewel, Mashutan beats her to the chase.
"This is going right to Pochitan!" the fox decrees.
"Aughhh!" Ageseine roars, looking about ready to tear out her hair. She does, in fact, rip the cloth hibuscus out of her ponytail, throwing it to the ground and stomping it into the road several times. "This is so totally wack! And you two!" She accuses with a dramatic gasp, jabbing her finger towards the precure. Eclair flinches into Arcana's arms with a yip, nearly smacking her face with the side of the rapier. "Look, I'm bi, but you can't be so PDA in front of a single girl! It's so sweet I'll barf! Bluh, gag me with a spoon!"
With that, she dissipates in a smear of smoke, leaving the bewildered precures behind.
Cure Arcana blinks. "Did she just… come out?"
"Ah, good for her!" Cure Kurea clasps her hands beside her cheek. "I'm happy she felt safe enough to do so!"
"Eclair…" Luluka utters, a drop of sweat rolling down the side of her face. She completely missed all those insinuations, didn't she?
After dismissing their transformations, the girls close the restaurant for the evening and reconvene in the kitchen. By this time, the faeries are curled up behind the counter, dozing away.
Luluka flinches upon seeing her creation again, which only appears to have gathered an even more sinister aura since it had been left to melt on the countertop. Hanging her head in rue, Luluka makes to clean up the mess she had left behind.
"Apologies for the interruption." She sighs, sliding the slop into the sink. "Once this is all clean, I'm starting again. I'm sorry for keeping you so late; you can head off to bed. Once I get back to the agency, I'll fill in Anna and Mikuru—ah, and to give the new jewel to Pochitan."
"Luluka," Kurea says, joining her side. Luluka refuses to meet her eyes, pouring all of her focus into hosing the baking sheet clean.
Without warning, Luluka's cheeks are enveloped in warmth. With gentle hands, Kurea turns Luluka's face towards her, brows knit together in concern. Luluka feels her heart skip a beat before adopting a frantic rabbit dance.
Too close, Luluka thinks, sucking in a tiny breath. Already, her cheeks are warming—it would be impossible for Kurea not to notice at this proximity. Certainly Luluka had touched her so much during the battle, held her close enough to feel the heat on her skin, reached into her heart to unsheathe the Choux Rapier—but in the heat of the moment, it hadn't seemed to matter. It was like they were meant to be that close.
But like this, alone in the silence of the kitchen—is it really okay? Is Luluka allowed to be this near to her love?
She thinks about Ageseine's cruel words: "Don't wanna disappoint your little girlfriend—you did totally try to gank her, after all."
Luluka had only been trying to save Kurea from herself, from the fate that was certain to befall her as the Dark King. She hadn't even been trying to kill her—not at first. She'd just wanted to smash her makoto jewel, to spare her, to—
But her intentions didn't change anything. She'd still swung that scythe with killing intent.
I'm still tainted, I'm still dirty, Luluka thinks. I can't be trusted with you, you shouldn't even touch me.
Gently, Luluka tries to turn away, only for Kurea to hold fast, resetting Luluka's face to center and adopting a determined expression. She draws closer, the tip of her nose brushing Luluka's. Suddenly, Luluka can't even think. She feels Kurea's warm breath on her lips when she speaks next:
"This isn't about the cake, is it?" Kurea asks.
Luluka allows Kurea to hold her gaze for several solid seconds before casting her gaze to the ground. Her hands tighten into fists at her sides. Despite herself, tears sting at the corners of her eyes, staining them pink. The corners of her mouth tremble, growing heavy.
"I…" Luluka chokes. "I just don't want to mess up again!"
She squeezes her eyes shut, allowing the tears to flow freely down her cheeks in hot rivulets. "I've made so many mistakes—mistakes that almost cost me our relationship, that always cost me you." She chokes, coughing out her next words: "I don't have the room to mess up anymore, I have to get it right every time. From here on out, I have to be perfect. I can't—I can't risk losing you again."
When Luluka opens her eyes, Kurea's expression has softened into one of tender sympathy. She sweeps her thumbs in gentle arcs below Luluka's eyes, brushing away her tears. Luluka wants to pull away, to extract herself front the clemency she didn't deserve. But a selfish part wants nothing more than to remain in the glow of Kurea's benevolence, to shelter in her arms.
And that selfish part wins out.
"I don't need perfect, Luluka," Kurea whispers. "Making mistakes is human nature."
Luluka laughs and its a sudden, cold crack in the air. "What I did was more than a mistake. Kurea, I hurt people. I hurt you. I lied and I thieved and I—I—."
Luluka reaches out, fisting the shirt of Kurea's uniform in her hand and tugging her into an embrace. She tucks her face into Kurea's shoulder, greedily inhaling the top of lily perfume. She wants to run away. She wants to pull Kurea even closer, keep Kurea all to herself. "I know I'll mess up again. I don't think I'm a good person."
There is almost no time in between her confession and the moment that Kurea's hands wrap around Luluka. With their bodies flush together, Luluka's hand is trapped between them to feel the thunderous palpitation of Kurea's heart. Luluka is drowning in her love for this girl. She's going to die here on the shore of Kurea's benignity.
"Even good people make mistakes," Kurea reassures her. "And it was a mistake. Even if it was a big one."
"It was a series of fairly large lapses in judgment that led to one particularly enormous mistake." Luluka concedes.
Kurea chuckles. She pulls away, but still holds on to Luluka's arms. Luluka appreciates it; she's not ready to be parted from Kurea just yet.
Luluka notices that small tears are gathering at the corners of Kurea's golden eyes, and wants to reach out and wipe them away, just as Kurea did for her.
So she does.
"Sorry." Kurea sniffs. "I didn't mean to get all emotional on you while you're having a moment."
"You're fine," Luluka reassures her.
Kurea drops her hands and, just like that, the spell is broken. Some unspoken tension between them dissipates into the ether and Luluka can help but feel like she missed out on something.
She wishes that she would have kissed Kurea.
She doesn't think she'll ever be brave enough.
"Luluka."
Luluka jumps, fearing that Kurea caught her staring at her lips. But she's smiling so brightly that her eyes are closed, curved up into crescent moons.
"It's important to have patience and grace with yourself," Kurea says. "In everything from friendship to pastry making."
Friendship doesn't feel like quite the appropriate word for whatever is simmering between them, but Luluka will take it for now.
No, she will take it forever—even if Kurea never knows of or returns her feelings, Luluka will be honored and overjoyed to have the privilege of being her friend.
"Now!" Kurea claps her hands together in that addictingly cheerful way of hers, completely banishing what little gloom remains in the air. "We have a cake to assemble!"
"'Assemble'?" Luluka's brows fly up into her hairline. "What do you mean?"
"Like you said, it's getting late!" Kurea reminded her, traipsing out of the kitchen. Her words carry into the room from behind the counter. "But I'm still hungry for a treat after that battle and all this talk of Baked Alaska!"
"Ah, I'll take the time to learn…" Luluka promises. "I don't think I can manage to get it done tonight."
"Not from scratch!" Kurea cheers, carrying something back into the kitchen. Its a big castella sponge cake from the display case, golden-yellow and dewy with honey. "Sensei usually sells these half-price in the morning, but he always lets me take a treat at the end of my shift. I made this castella this morning."
She sets the cake down, strolling into the deep freezer to grab a fresh tub of chocolate ice cream.
"If we assemble these parts, we'll have the Baked Alaska in no time." Kurea smiles, pumping her hands in excitement. "And Luluka." She winks. "I'll have you make the meringue."
Luluka shivers in dread, shaking her head and dislodging the last dregs of flour. "No, I'll leave it to the professional."
"No excuses, practice makes perfect after all!" Kurea teases, steering Luluka towards the standing mixer. "Plus, you'll have me coaching you the whole way! Just remember," she sets one hand on Luluka's, sliding over a bowl of eggs with the other. "Be patient with yourself. There's a lot of eggs, you don't have to get it right the first try."
Meringue, as it turns out, is rather easy under the tutelage of a proper patissier.
(And with a little bit of cream of tartar to help the process.)
When Kurea pipes the egg whites onto the ice cream dome, its even prettier than the lacey frills in the picture—its a delicate rose, one continuous ribbon from bottom to top. When she removes it from the oven, the edges of the petals are toasted a lovely golden brown.
Upon the first bite, the ice cream chills Luluka's mouth beneath the warm, crisp meringue.
"Fire and ice," she whispers, covering her mouth from Kurea's view.
"It's such a weird mouth feel!" Kurea cheers, taking another bite. She presses a hand to her cheek. "It's a lot like tempura ice cream!"
"Oh?" Luluka's eyes flash at the mention of another novelty frozen confection. "I'll have to try it sometime."
Kurea giggles. "I'll add it to menu just for you, Luluka-chan!"
This time, the addition of 'chan' hits her like Cupid's arrow to the heart.
Before long, the small cake is demolished between the girls and they set to tidying up the kitchen. By the time everything is cleaned to Kurea's standards, its almost midnight. Luluka scoops up the dozing Mashutan, tucking the faerie into her bag.
"I'm heading out," she announces at the door, tapping the toe of her shoe out of habit. Kurea stands by the door, hands folded neatly in her lap. She looks like a wife seeing her spouse off to a day of work.
Luluka tries not to think too hard about that mental image.
"Are you sure you don't want me to walk you back to the agency?" Kurea frets. Luluka shakes her head.
"No, I'll be fine," she says, gesturing to her necklace. "If Ageseine tries to jump me behind a dumpster, I'll show her what for."
Kurea laughs and Luluka allows herself to adopt a rare, genuine smile.
"Goodnight, Kurea," she says, nodding her head once and pushing the door open.
"Luluka."
Luluka turns towards the sound of her name, shocked to find that Kurea has suddenly drawn in close and suddenly—
—suddenly—
Suddenly her warm lips are on Luluka's cheek.
Luluka's eyes widen and her heart had inexplicably migrated to her throat, suffusing her body with warmth. It bleeds out into her limbs, grabs the base of her skull, sets her ablaze. She finds cannot move.
She is on fire. She is frozen.
She is Baked Alaska.
"Goodnight, Luluka. Get home safely." Kurea pulls away, tucking her hands behind her back. Her cheeks are absolutely radiant. She is absolutely radiant. Luluka couldn't be more taken than she is in this moment.
Unable to think, Luluka just nods, turning towards the door and bumping off of the glass. Ah. When had it closed? She thought she'd opened it.
She opens the door again , bidding Kurea goodnight once more and shuffling out of the shop, still in a state of shock.
"Oh, and Luluka?"
Again, Kurea is calling her name and Luluka can't help but turn towards her. In the silent night, Kurea is haloed by effulgence in the pâtisserie's doorway. To Luluka's tired eyes, the rays of light look like the petals of a lily.
The words come to Luluka's mind unbidden:
The winds have died, but the flowers go on falling:
birds call, but silence penetrates each song.
"You didn't argue when Ageseine called me your girlfriend—don't think I didn't notice." Kurea winks and shuts the door.
The Mystery! Unknowable, unlearnable.
The virtue of Kannon.
Meanwhile, in The Phantom Thieves' hideout, Ageseine holds Usonoir tight like a beloved plushie, rolling around her bed in despair.
"Wahhh! It's so totally unfair, I want a cute girlfriend, too!" she wails. "Curse you, Precure!"
"Please," Usonoir begs. "Release Me."