Author's Note: I'm fond of the Japanese traditions of Valentine's Day and White Day, so much I've started it with my own friends. Though I'm not always so successful. Ah well, giving is better than receiving! Though I still have to find a good recipe for homemade chocolates… Ahem. I've liked Xiaolin Showdown for a while and Kimiko, as one of the few token girls, has always gotten my attention. She is quite neat, considering her wardrobe and her tech skills. She's got a kick butt personality. Raimundo's another favorite, considering my own element is wind. /laughs/ He's not quite the epitome of wind, but he's fairly close. Charming, mercurial, versatile, quick on his feet and in his head, and with no small twists of personality. I do note that Rai and Kim do have a special bond, considering she pays a little more attention to him and she's not afraid to beat him up (you have to admit, he's at the receiving end of a lot of her punches). Omi's too innocent for her and Clay's- well… he's too stolid for her, just too steady.
Ah well… But this is a nice little piece of WAFF, Kim-centric, and perhaps elucidating a little bit of Kimiko's past, including her mother, who we never see.
Rating: K+
Genre: Romance
Summary: Complements. Chocolate and coffee. Fire and Wind. Valentine's Day at the Temple. Kim/Rai
Complementary
Kimiko scrutinized the pot carefully. The kitchen was not as up to date as she liked but it would have to do. She doubted that her father would be willing to outfit a temple in the most remote Chinese mountains with state of the art, brushed stainless steel and tempered glass cooking equipment, complete with three metal, copper bottomed Italian imported pots and a three level toaster oven, no matter how generous he was. Not to mention Master Fung would be less than pleased about that, the Japanese girl thought. It undermined the vows of a monk after all… Humility and poverty indeed.
She stifled a giggle at that.
The water in the pot simmered softly as a small clay bowl filled with slowly melting chocolate floated on the surface, as the young Dragon made sure it didn't burn. Fortunately, it wasn't likely to happen; she was of the element of fire after all. The molds were ready, chilled and oiled and she checked on the icing in its glass bowl for signs of hardening.
As she made sure the chocolate didn't start flaking, she mused to herself. Valentine's day in her native Japan was a holiday that was bittersweet, almost like the dark chocolate melting on the stove. She could remember making chocolate with her mother as early as age three, of course "helping" meant getting chocolate all over both of them and the kitchen. Her dark blue eyes slowly misted slightly in memory of that graceful, almost fragile woman who wore cherry blossom perfume and soft kimonos, whose dark blue eyes she had inherited, from a trace of French blood far back. They had made chocolate together, presenting their efforts to her father, who was always happy to receive them, until her mother died when Kimiko was nine.
Of course, at school, she received chocolate often enough from boys, both as giri and honmei, and gave back on White Day nicely enough, distributing both store bought and home made delights alike. But this year… it was different. She was in a temple for her thirteenth Valentine's Day, with her three very different and very male friends.
Raimundo probably didn't celebrate Valentine's Day at all, or if he did, probably received no few tokens of love from girls. She found herself suddenly uneasy, tensed like her old cat Tanami right before a thunderstorm as unbidden images of Raimundo, surrounded by giggling, squealing girls thrusting packages in lurid pink and red at him as he all but smirked at them. She shook her head quickly, banishing those thoughts. Clay… the Americans celebrated Valentine's Day differently, they were used to boys giving girls chocolate and it was just too bad for those girls who didn't get chocolate or even a card for that matter. And Omi probably didn't even know what Valentine's Day even was!
She actually giggled this time, the tension leaving her now.
Checking back at the chocolate, she saw that it was the right consistency and carefully pulled the clay bowl out from the water with tongs. The syrup was perfect, not too thick but not too watery, dark and silky with steam slowly rising from it as she slowly poured it into equal shares into her molds.
Her father's usual bar of plain dark chocolate laced with a bit of cherry flavoring (her mother's original recipe; she would have to send this to him fairly soon.). A circle with hot peppers for Dojo (he liked his sweets with a "kick"). A square of plain chocolate for Master Fung (Kimiko figured he liked simplicity). A star with pecans for Clay (it probably would be a nice little nod to his home country and state). A triangle with raspberry jelly for Omi (She had discovered his fondness for raspberries by complete accident.). And… She blinked. The only mold she had left was a heart. And as she looked around, the only filling she had left was coffee liqueur. How strange.
There were no more molds left so she sighed and poured the remaining chocolate in carefully into the heart. Some splashed onto her face and she grimaced but could not wipe it off until she got the liqueur in. All that was left for was the chocolate to cool, and then she could ice them…
"Something smells good in here? Who's cooking?" Raimundo's drawling voice drifted into the kitchen and she jumped, nearly dropping the trays with her chocolates. She quickly shoved them into the cold shelf where she knew the monks kept fruits and vegetables to prevent spoiling, sliding the bamboo doors in front of it shut. Reaching for a towel, she rubbed at her face, trying to get the chocolate off.
The Brazilian poked his dark haired head in; it was damp with sweat, spikes limp against his skull. He had probably been playing soccer against a hapless Omi and Clay. His nostrils flared as he sniffed the air.
"Is it me or is chocolate here?" he asked, stepping in, tracking in mud.
"It's nothing at all," Kimiko said hastily. If the arrogant boy found out that she was cooking… and for the boys… Well, she would never hear the end of it from him and from Omi, once the little monk caught wind of it.
He arched a bushy eyebrow at her, coming in to sit on one of the stools in the kitchen by the counter where vegetables or meat were chopped. She amended, "Well- I was making some hot chocolate."
"Mind if I had a cup?" he asked.
Kimiko cursed herself for that. "Uh- let me heat up some more milk."
She bustled around the kitchen quickly, shoving the pot and most of her materials away while she could, hunting out the milk and cocoa powder. He watched her, unusually silent for once. She spotted his muddy footprints. "What happened?"
"Mud hole in the field," he said with a wry grin.
She gave him a long look, in the middle of getting a flask of goat's milk (from the villagers a few hills over) and setting the cocoa powder down on the counter in front of him. "I never saw you let a mud puddle get in the way of playing."
He looked slyly at her. "So you do watch me practice."
The Dragon of Fire found herself flushing despite herself. "That's none of your business if I do!" she snapped at him. "Besides- you torment Omi too much. Don't mess with him."
"Yeah, I know, or you'll sock me in the arm again." His dark, emerald green eyes were heavy lidded and reminded her too vividly of a jaguar, dangerous, sleek, even as it seemed utterly languid. Had the color changed over the years, Kimiko wondered, or was it that she had never really realized his eyes before? He had changed since his stint under Wuya, something started over the equivalent of a temper tantrum but certainly endangered his very soul… He was still a jerk, mocking at will, irreverent and cheeky at the best of times, utterly infuriating at the worst. But- something was darker about him, more serious, heavier. Shadows were in his eyes now, and did he have just a trace of wrinkling between his busy brown eyebrows? True, they were rather stressed these days, as the childish world of quests and vague notions of good and bad melted away to face true dangers, true evil. But nevertheless, the faint line granted him a more thoughtful look. Perhaps some tutelage in the darker arts hadn't been too bad for him; he certainly wasn't as much of a little boy he had been. She shook her head. What was she thinking?
The milk was heating and she spooned cocoa powder into thick clay mugs for the both of them. She fetched some cinnamon, letting it trickle onto the dusty brown mound in her cup.
"Mind giving me some?" He spoke up so suddenly, she almost dropped the clay container.
She blinked. "You like it with cinnamon too?" She started shaking some of the fragrant spice into the other cup.
"That's how my mamá makes it," he said. "Though we add a sort of cheese to it occasionally." His Brazilian accent lilted slightly.
"Cheese, with chocolate?" Kimiko wrinkled her nose.
He shrugged. "It's a different sort of cheese."
By now, the milk was just short of boiling and she quickly got it off the stove, letting it cool slightly before pouring it into their cups. She pushed one cup to Raimundo; there were spoons available. He arched a brow at her, opening his mouth.
"Don't even go there!" she snarled. "Don't you even go on about girls and-"
"I just wanted a spoon," he said, blinking at her.
Flushing furiously, she all but shoved one at him, stirring her cup slowly to hide her growing rage. The spoon clattered across the scarred wood, as he picked it up with an ironic smile to her, before slowly stirring away for a minute or two. He raised his mug to his lips and sipped, making it seem as intricate and dignified as a tea ceremony.
"Do you miss it?" she asked after a silence had settled over them like an uneasy raincloud, suddenly curious.
"Miss what?"
"Brazil." She found herself blushing again. It seemed like they never really talked about their hometowns or their pasts, for that matter, never asked and never really told, like some unspoken agreement as close friends.
He shrugged. "I guess. It's different being here. We wear pajamas to fight and armor to sleep." He smirked at her his odd little half-smile, which he had only just recently picked up, Kimiko realized.
"They're robes, Rai."
"Whatever." He looked into his mug intently.
She spoke before she ever bothered to think, "Rai… would you ever fly away from here?"
He looked up, startled. "What?"
She looked down, unable to meet his eyes. "I mean- Rai- how do you know about your element? How do you know it's the right one?"
He looked thoughtful. "I never thought about it," he said after a moment. "But- I've always loved to fly. I've always had dreams of flying since I was little. What about you? How do you know you're fire?"
"I thought you would already know that, from all the insults you throw at me," she said waspishly.
"Right in the heart! You're too cruel. Do you like to burn every guy in your way?" He looked at her, eyes holding a gleam of challenge.
"Do you like to fan at every single girl you meet?" she countered, glaring right back.
Their eyes stared into each other for a long time, countering, silently fighting before dispelling harmlessly. She then sighed a little, looking at her cocoa. "And fire and air are supposed to be complementary," she muttered to herself. "Mom, you were wrong."
"What was that? Complimentary? Is this something about free things?"
Kimiko let out a long, exasperated sigh, glaring at Raimundo. "Complementary. Harmonizing, two equal sides. Because all the elements can counter each other, they also have allies. Fire and water are enemies but fire and air are allies. My mother studied history, including occult theory."
He nodded slowly. "It makes sense. But in my defense, you're cute when you're mad." He grinned as she blushed furiously. "And look, you turn red. You must be burning."
She fumed at him as he laughed his head off but her anger cooled fairly quickly. "Humph. I'm spontaneous," she said haughtily. "And I still can kick your butt at Goo Zombies One and Two and Purple edition."
He had one elbow on the countertop, gazing at her through lazy eyes as he propped his head on one hand. "That was a fluke, and you know it," he teased her in a lazy drawl. For lack of a better response, she merely stuck her tongue out at him.
They sat in fairly amiable silence until he finally took another long drink of hot cocoa, draining the mug. He set it down. "Something's been nagging me," he said, vaguely. "Something important is coming up but I can't tell what it is. It's no birthday… Christmas already past. Unless, I missed some kind of anniversary." He arched a brow at her.
Kimiko shrugged. "It's probably not that important if you forgot it." Boys… But she couldn't help but smile to herself.
"Ah. I'll remember it soon." He got up slowly, clearly going for the door. Then, midway, he stopped, turned to go to her, and stood over her. The Japanese girl froze. He had gotten taller and she wasn't due for a growth spurt any time soon. With a surprisingly gentle hand, he rubbed at her cheek with his thumb. She felt it rub at the smooth skin of her face, feeling the faintly rough calluses.
"You had something on your face. Clean up better, will ya?" he said with a cheeky, crooked grin as he strolled out of the kitchen. She flushed furiously, lifting a hand to touch her cheek, feeling the gentle coolness of his touch as a ghost of memory.
Mission accomplished. Ready to be given or already given. Dojo had loved the "hot pepper chocolate" (even if it had given him a bit of heart burn and flame flaring from his nostrils as he hiccupped) and Master Fung had let a slight smile play at his lips under his mustache even as he graciously accepted the wrapped bar. Omi's was going to be given in the morning and Clay had just accepted hers with a gallant tilt of his hat and a smile as well as a drawled, "Thank ya, little lady."
Kimiko padded through the hallways, letting the moonlight light the way for her. She held one last package, wrapped in Rai's favorite shade of green. Even as she cast her eyes and her senses about, she couldn't find the Dragon of the Wind. She sighed in disgust. He was getting too good at getting away and avoiding others when he wanted, if he ever wanted to be away from the crowd…
"Wind fans fire," someone whispered behind her and she jumped, nearly shrieking.
Raimundo, actually not smirking, was leaning against the wall right behind her. "Boo," he said, lips turning up slightly at their corners.
"Rai, you idiot!" she cursed at him, adding a few more muttered insults in Japanese for good measure.
"Easy there. You'd think I'd gone up and groped you," he said, arching a bushy eyebrow. Before she could do much but blush and sputter, he spotted the package. "What's that?"
"It's-" she fumbled for a quick lie, a quick excuse. But- she couldn't. "It's- chocolate. For you." She held it out to him, but suddenly, the little green package seemed so… pitiful. Immediately, she reached up to her pigtails and pulled off her red hair ribbons, tying them quickly around the gift and offering it to Raimundo, even as she felt her black hair, now long enough to nearly reach her knees, trail down.
He blinked at her, looking politely puzzled. She stammered, "I-In Japan, it's tradition for girls to give guys chocolate. Guys in their lives and those they- care about. It's Valentine's Day, Rai."
She looked up, feeling heat rise to her face immediately. But he took the chocolate and slowly opened it, regarding her. "You- should consider putting your hair down more often," he said, and his voice was surprisingly unsteady for once. He didn't have his normal glib tongue and he looked- shy?
She blushed even darker, until she was sure she was as red as a tomato. "It's a pain," she said impatiently, trying to banish the sudden thrill that rang through her body. "For training and-" But he touched his hand to her lips softly, and her voice died away as she could only stare at him, his face in shadow now, as a very odd smile twisted his lips.
As he unwrapped the chocolate, he looked at the message neatly written in white icing across the smooth brown heart: "To my beloved (but dense) friend Raimundo. With Love, Kimiko."
He smiled slowly. "Oh, it's a heart…"
She blushed furiously as he broke off the tip of the heart and brought it to his lips. "Mmm… dark chocolate, with coffee. I didn't expect you to do this for me. I figured you were making it for your- I don't know, boyfriend back in Tokyo."
"What?" She stared at him in disbelief.
"Chocolate on your cheek," he said with a wink. "You're a crappy liar too."
"Not just that! What made you think- I had a boyfriend?" She knew she was sputtering, eyes wide as saucers as she gaped at him.
He blinked at her. "You're always gossiping and-"
"What? So I can't have a social life? Just because I chat on the PDA doesn't mean I'm talking to a- a- boyfriend."
He visibly relaxed then reddened. "Sorry- I kinda jumped to conclusions."
A wind scented with early blooming jasmine whistled past them, causing her hair to fly about her in a flurry, tangling wickedly into knots that would take hours to undo. While trying to get it into order, she almost missed Raimundo's suddenly surprised face, eyes filled with something like- admiration? She looked at him, her hair gathered in her hands in a loose ponytail.
She could all but sense the heat coming off him as his mouth opened but words didn't come out. Then, he seemed to regain his senses, reaching into his back pocket. "We don't have Valentine's Day in Brazil," he said. "We do have a day in June, where- boyfriends and girlfriends- it's called Dia dos Namorados. I know it's early, because- Well… here." He held up a necklace glittering coldly silver in the moonlight. It was a simple chain, more like a thread than anything else, holding a round pendant. As it slowly twirled from his hand, Kimiko could see spiral within the silver circle, a spiral made of tiny stones of something that glittered and shone within the silvery light.
"It's beautiful, Rai," she whispered, caught by its simple beauty.
"Fire opal. From some relatives who live in Mexico. I thought- they suited you."
"Is it that- you want to be my boyfriend?" she asked carefully.
He looked at her and flushed. "Ah…" He looked down, looking very much the awkward schoolboy now. "It's- just for you, Kimiko. Just take it."
She reached out with her slender hand for it and he dropped it in, their fingers intertwining for a moment. Her hand seemed almost childishly small, too delicate in his larger, rougher one. "Do you mind helping me with it?" she asked, without thinking.
He looked absolutely flabbergasted by the request. She gave him an impatient look. "It's not going to kill you and my hair is a mess. I need some help here," she retorted, even if she was torn between laughing and blushing.
He managed to get some semblance of sensibility and went to her. She obliged him by lifting her hair from her neck. His rough, brown fingers traced across the pale skin of her neck painstakingly carefully, as if she were his mother's best china and crystal and would break with the least disturbance. She almost missed it when he finished fastening the necklace, letting the pendant rest in the hollow of her throat. He managed a smile as she turned to face him. "It suits you," he said.
She craned her head downwards to regard it. "You're right." She then looked up at him. They were so close… if only…
"We should be getting some sleep," he said abruptly. "It's getting late. Thanks for the chocolate." He turned away, leaving her waiting, and ghosted away from her, face flushed.
That night, as she changed for bed, she regarded an old kimono of her mother's, smelling its lingering perfume of just blooming sakura. It always soothed her during the roughest nights, often here in the temple, especially when she wrapped herself in the soft pink and gold silk, letting herself be saturated with that sweet, sweet smell. But then, she locked it in her box, going to her bed, going to sleep with her hand clasped tightly about the pendant at her throat.