Courtship of the American Tsundere and Related Materia

[Supreme Gamesmaster]

I felt like posting some short stories of mine to get [s]torn apart[/s] critiqued. I'm still cleaning up an old story to introduce the titular American tsundere, though. Eh. You can get the lesbians in the meantime.

These are all original characters in an [s]inspired[/s] [i]original[/i] setting, though Lawrence and the Hubsmann sisters can probably keep up with Konata Izumi insofar as anime references go.

GOGOGOGOGOGOGOGOGOGOGOGOGO -- *shot*

[spoiler=Courtship of the American Tsundere]
Primarily follows the couple of Lawrence Enchor and Danielle Hubsmann through their ninth grade year at the oddly-named Friedlander Municipal High School. It also follows their classmates and acquaintances, though. As they're short stories, each story will generally focus on a small part of the bigger cast herd.
I've finished some stories in this set, but they need a lot of polishing before they can be posted. Give me some time.
[/spoiler]
[spoiler=A Flower Garden in the American Sky]
Primarily follows the couple of Britannia Octavius (LA AWESOMENAME) and Marie-Élise Delacroix through their ninth grade year at the oddly-named Friedlander Municipal High School. Lawrence and Danielle, now in tenth grade, still turn up pretty often.
[spoiler=A Flower Garden in the American Sky]
[i]A/N: This is WAAAAAY longer than most of the short stories; it even comes in parts. It's the opening of these vignettes and shows how Britannia and Élise fell in love. They're just old enough to feel love, and not old enough to hear how homosexuals are clearly all evil.
WARNING: SUPER INCREDIBLY FLUFFY ALERT. One of the fluffiest things I've ever written, the other being a two hundred fifty word vignette about... this same couple, actually. Oh, and it's yuri, in case you're a Yuunoha shipper and haven't figured that out yet.[/i]

A Flower Garden in the American Sky
July 13, 2007 – November 17, 2007
A Flower Garden in the American Sky, Part 1

The entire story, I suppose, should start on July 13, 2007.

That is the day when the Delacroix family had settled into their new homes in Eisenberg, New York – having moved there, of course, from Lille, a French city with a prolific exchange program with the nearby city of Beau-fleuve.

The Delacroix clan was uncommonly large, with seven children to their name and five still under one roof. The youngest child, Marie-Élise, was now ten and entering sixth grade, and she was the principal consideration of the heads of the family as they made their move.
Marie-Élise was probably the most beautiful of all the Delacroix, and was definitely the least sociable. Living in such a large family taught her not to rely on anyone to entertain her, and so she became so skilled at the arts of reading, writing, and self-entertainment that by the time she'd reached sixth grade, she seemed to find human contact redundant. This assumption wasn't entirely true, of course, and Élise herself fervently wished it wasn't the case, but the fact remained that at the time of her move, Élise had no friends, though some people back home had been friendly to her, and Élise had been grateful in return.

Élise was, however, extraordinarily talented in most intellectual pursuits – a bit of a change from the usual Delacroix inclination towards sport. She tried not to complain about the slow pace of her education back home, but the fact was that she didn't have to put much effort into school-work at all, and most of her day was spent shut in her room and reading, if she was lucky, or sleeping, if she wasn't. Hoping to please her, therefore, her parents decided to move a few miles south of Beau-fleuve into the wealthy suburb of Eisenberg, enrolling her in Eisenberg Main Middle School, which had recently ranked as the best middle school in the already academic state of New York.

Their hopes were not in vain. Élise was in such a good mood when she heard where she was going to go to school, she agreed to come out when the neighbours offered to meet her.

<<>>

July 13, 2007, was also the birthday of Britannia Belle Octavius, an energetic blonde who may have been the most confusing popularity conundrum in all of Eisenberg's history. She was a student athlete, and a very good one at that, so her status should have been fairly high, but she was also kind, earnest, and a bit naïve, so she wound up being both a famous athlete and a bit of a joke at Eisenberg Main Middle School. Her naïveté was most obvious in her attitude towards school, which was altogether too earnest and practical for her peers, who found such behaviour unacceptable when she should be caring about the latest lipstick brand or where the next big party was.

Another girl, perhaps a blonde Japanese immigrant with a geeky sex-goddess of a sister, might have learned the art of discerning arrogance and delineated between the few and the proud and the many and the foolish, but Britannia was far too kind-hearted for that. So she toiled on in an effort to please her teachers (a very successful effort, mind; not all was in vain), surrounded constantly by a haze of mockery of which she was all too aware. The situation got so bad that Britannia refused to actually throw a birthday party for friends, since she was firmly convinced no one would come. So when her mother gave her the long-awaited news that the new neighbours from France had arrived, and that they had a girl going into the same grade as she, she was perfectly free and eager to go over and meet her.

<<>>

Britannia stared at the door.

It was white, and very tall.

She had a very strange feeling that something important was behind that door. But for the life of her, she couldn't figure out what.

Well, most people don't realize until it happens, anyway.

The young man that swung open the door was jarringly tall and ominously unkempt, with black hair a bit of stubble for a beard; Britannia started a bit and shrank behind her mother.

“Hello,” Mrs. Octavius said, smiling, the picture of neighbourliness. “We're your new neighbours! Congratulations on moving in!”

“Oh,” the young man replied, a bit disoriented. Then he smiled. “Oh, well, hi! I'm Jean-Claude Delacroix, nice to meet you...”

Jean-Claude seemed friendlier than Britannia herself, however scary he might have looked. He had a conversation going with Britannia's mother in moments.

“I love your accent, it's really understandable, it's really impressive...”

“Oh, we had an aunt and uncle who lived in Britain,” he explained. “We learned all our English from them... Thank goodness for that, we didn't have to learn again coming over here. It really is understandable?” Another diplomat, Britannia noted. I wonder if he was as awkward as I am when he was younger?

“Oh, it's perfectly understandable,” Mrs. Octavius assured the Frenchman. “Yeah, I don't think you'll have any trouble at all fitting in...”

“Oh, and who's this?” Gack, he's looking at me!

“Oh,” Britannia began, having noted that most every sentence everyone had been saying started with 'oh.' Was that to buy time to come up with what to say? Like the French 'est-ce que...' “I'm Britannia; I'm her daughter.”

“Cool name.” Britannia inwardly gaped at his tone; he wasn't talking down to her at all. He must have been at least sixteen, but he was treating an eleven-year-old with genuine respect. Suddenly I want to meet their daughter a lot more.

“You're Marie-Élise's age, right? D'you go to the same school? Or, uh, you're gonna go,” he amended, a bit sheepishly. “Eisenberg Main?”

“Yep.”

“Cool. Well, d'you wanna come in, meet the rest of the clan? Jean-Pierre and Christine are here, it'll be neat if you can meet them – they were studying here in America anyway; they're in college. And I'll go drag Marie-Élise down so you can meet her,” he added, a roguish grin growing as he winked at Britannia.

Some part of that made her stomach turn. It was either Jean-Claude's wink or the name Marie-Élise. She thought she knew which one, deep down, but she'd really rather fancy the first option; it was so much more... romantic.

Her opinion on that would drastically change over the next few weeks.

<<>>

There'll be no need for that, Marie-Élise thought, feeling very small and miserable on the couch in the new salle de séjour. You know Maman and Papa will have me locked out of my room anyway.

It was a very nice room, she had to admit. It was more spacious than her old home, somehow, despite being smaller; the couches were long and very comfortable, and the bookshelf lined up along the wall looked very promising. Ultimately, however, no matter how much she analysed the room, her thoughts rolled back to the same topic – you're just putting off coming up with an introduction to this neighbour girl; she'd already pointed out to herself about ten times already. Honestly, at this rate you'll forget all your English and you'll sound like an idiot.

This was unlikely, as she was thinking in English, but it was a very motivating and productive thought that had, on at least four occasions, forced her to consider how to speak English again, only for her superego to recursively point out that she was only revisiting English grammar to put off devising a greeting for the neighbour girl.

By the time she'd finally managed to organise her thoughts, though, everyone was around her, Jean-Pierre and Jean-Claude and Christine and Marie-Christine and Marie-Claire and Jean-Michel and Maman and Papa and Madame Octavius and the neighbour girl, and then she had to sit in a miserable panic and recover her thoughts and try and cobble something coherent together –

– and then everyone was already gone to get snacks or something, and all she was left with was the neighbour girl, young Mademoiselle Octavius, sitting on the other side of the couch and also looking rather small and miserable.

This probably had something to do with the fact that Mademoiselle Octavius really was very small. Marie-Élise was actually rather large and well-developed for a ten-year-old; Mademoiselle Octavius looked about eight. Her hair was a uniquely American dirty-blonde, just long enough that Élise vaguely wanted to pet it, and it framed a very smooth face and large brown eyes that, at the moment, bore an uncanny resemblance to a deer caught in a speeding car's headlights.

She was absolutely adorable, Élise decided, and yet still conventionally pretty as well. And if she was wearing make-up, it wasn't a great deal – always a good sign.

“So, uh, you're Marie-Élise, right?”

The sound of her voice somehow calmed the bookworm down quite a bit. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that Mademoiselle Octavius sounded very shy as well, or perhaps it had something to do with her faintly desperate “I-WANT-TO-BE-YOUR-FRIEND” earnestness, or perhaps it had something to do with how disarmingly pretty her voice was, but one way or another, Élise was pretty much calmed down after hearing Mademoiselle Octavius speak.

Hang on. Mademoiselle Octavius?

“I'm Britannia.” Britannia smiled suddenly, as if getting their names exchanged had been the hard part and now she had a foothold in the steep cliff of friendship. “Nice to meet you.”

“You as well,” Élise managed to stammer out. She was still trying to process the fact that the meeting hadn't yet been a total disaster.

“Um.” Those little um's were so very reassuring! She was as lost as Élise, just a bit more outgoing. How unnerving it was, to talk to someone who always knew exactly what to say!
“Your brother said we're gonna be going to the same school.” Her accent was perfect Western-New-York, but she'd managed not to remark on Élise's own chimaera of English and French accents – impressive, given the reputation of Americans for cultural boorishness. “Are you in sixth grade?”

“Yes, my birthday's in September.”

This time, Élise caught her own tone of voice – and immediately wished she could modify it. Forget my shyness, poor Britannia must be mortified of me!

“Oh, cool.” She smiled, but Élise caught the unease in her voice and immediately felt guilty. “My birthday is today, actually.”

Some birthday this is! Poor Britannia...

“Oh, happy birthday.” Please don't sound like you want to kill her this time, Élise... please? “The thirteenth; that's always a good number.”

“Yeah,” Britannia grinned. Thank the gods I sent that message! Now to apologize for before...
An awkward silence ensued for a few moments, giving Élise her opportunity.

“Er, I'm sorry if I sound... cold, or anything. I'm just so nervous right now, meeting you and all... I'm no good with people whatsoever...” End with humour? She seems like the kind of person who'd like that. “I prefer books.”

That elicited quite a bit of nervous laughter.

Is she laughing at me is she laughing at me is she laughing at me

“Oh, that's fine.” The blonde was grinning ear to ear. “Nah, I know what you mean. I'm really nervous right now, too... if you couldn't tell,” she added, smiling like a maniac.

“I really don't read enough, though.” Now she was frowning a bit. “I mean, I have this long list of books I wanna read, right? Like, And Then There Were None or something. And I'm like, 'I'm gonna read it I'm gonna read it I'm gonna read it.' Except I never actually get around to reading it.”

Had Britannia actually moved the conversation onto comfortable ground? At her own expense? I thank you eternally, Britannia Octavius!

“That's a good choice, though,” Élise offered. “I think I have a copy buried in one of these boxes...” She gestured to the front of the room, which was stacked nearly to the ceiling with myriad cardboard boxes. “Really good. You should get around to it.”

“I will,” Britannia assured her. Her tone suddenly turned mock-dictatorial: “Ya hear that, me?! Read it, I tell ya! When you get back there, I don't want you lazin' around on that newfangled Ex-Bawx o' yours, you're on it twenty-four-seven anyway! I want you in there, readin' a durned good mystery, ya hear? It's durned good, ye'll like it!

“Ma'am, yes, ma'am!” she replied to herself.

In fact, the number of social gaffes in the above two conversational pieces is enormous, but when both speakers are a) nervous, socially awkward anyway, and c) in sixth grade, such things tend not to be noticed.

“Yeah, I prefer video games,” the blonde explained. “All the money we should spend on books, I spend on games. Big gamer, actually. Sports 'n stuff, too. You like any?”

crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap

In fact, Élise had never touched a video game or a sport in her life. Her family owned no consoles and probably never would, and sports, apart from being entirely unpleasant anyway, required multiple players and were thus not an option for Marie-Élise.

So what in the world was she supposed to say to this nice girl, who was already going out of her way to befriend a very unpleasant person? On dit la verité.

“I can't say I really enjoy sports,” Élise sighed. “I'm not a physical person; very intellectual. And my family's rather Catholic, you know; we've never really had or tried video games.”

Then she waited, on tenterhooks, for Britannia's response. The blonde breathed... she was speaking...

“Huh. Darn.” She'd certainly taken that well!

“Well, tell you what, then.” Suddenly Britannia had an infernal smile on her face. “I'll get cracking on And Then There Were None, and then some time this week you can come over to my place and try some of my video games. I bet you're an RPG type,” she said shrewdly. “I can hook you up with some Fire Emblem – it's all about character development 'n stuff, I think you'll really like it.”

A friend~
Has invited me~
To her house~
The world~
Is ending~
But in a good way~

“I'll definitely see what I can do.” Élise reinforced her automatic smile, trying as hard as possible to convey that this was the affirmative type of 'I'll-see-what-I-can-do' and not the polite way of saying 'No, thank you.' “That sounds like fun. I'll see you then, then.”

Britannia looked like she could scarcely believe her luck. “Cool! See you then,” she laughed.
Then everyone came back in at once and all hell broke loose.

<<>>

Britannia could scarcely believe her luck. “Cool! See you then,” she laughed giddily. She had an actual friend again!

Then everyone came back in at once and all hell broke loose.

Logically, having been raised in this large family, Marie-Élise should have been fairly well-adjusted to having large crowds of large people around. But it became obvious in the space of about two seconds that she wasn't. She somehow managed to turn even paler than she already was, and she was actually trembling.

Had Britannia waited about three more seconds, the French girl probably would have calmed down. But honestly, she was so scared and miserable-looking, the blonde couldn't stand to watch her quaking. So she scurried across the couch and held Élise's hand.

The effect was instantaneous and momentous. Élise's breathing steadied, warmth slowly returned to her long, cold fingers, and she went from white to pink very quickly. But neither girl felt inclined to move afterwards.

Seeing her up close, Marie-Élise was hypnotically beautiful. Shiny, silky black hair dropped to her shoulders and fell slightly over her dark brown eyes. Though her skin was pale and devoid of make-up, it was still very smooth, and it suited her well, Britannia thought.

Élise was thinking along similar lines. Britannia's giant eyes were very warm and compassionate up close; her very form radiated her emotion, her sympathy.

It took the girls about ten seconds to untangle themselves and return, blushing, to their ends of the couch, though it felt more like ten minutes. It took their families about thirteen seconds to notice what they were doing, which is to say, they didn't notice what they were doing at all.

“So are you two getting along well?” Mrs. Octavius asked the girls.

“Oh, yeah,” Britannia smiled. Élise nodded silently, but vigorously. “Actually, I thought maybe she could come over to our place some time this week? I wanted to show her some stuff.”

“That can be arranged.” Mrs. – er, Mme. – Delacroix smiled. Everyone was smiling, yet everyone was feeling different! How bizarre human interaction was. “In fact, how about tomorrow? We can all go over there and tour your place, get to know you a little better...”

This wasn't at all what either girl had in mind, but neither was so tactless as to complain. “Sure,” Britannia agreed, though to Élise, at least, she was far too much of an open book to have fooled anyone with her assent. “That sounds great.”

“Sounds doable, too,” Britannia's mother agreed. “Shall we go, then? And we can see you tomorrow.”

Élise watched, a bit disconnected and a bit hurt somehow, as her new friend ran through the rituals of departure. But any negative emotion was cleared by the eagerness in Britannia's voice as she said, “See you tomorrow!”

“See you tomorrow.” Élise agreed as fervently as she ever had.

<<>>

Well, this arrangement lasted for about six months, with little of significance happening until the end of the period. But I shall try to summarize:

On arrival at Eisenberg Main, Britannia was very dismayed to learn that she shared exactly zero classes, lunch included, with Marie-Élise, who in turn was making exactly zero friends in all of her classes (none of which were shared with Britannia). While Britannia got on well enough with the sorts of unpleasant acquaintances students call “friends,” her interactions with them outside of school amounted to exactly thirteen, actually, during the first four months of school.

Élise picked up Fire Emblem with alacrity and the duo could soon discuss several RPGs in-depth. Britannia, meanwhile, made a good start on her must-read list, finishing both And Then There Were None and The Lord of the Rings (the whole tripartite set, that is). Needless to say, the duo were inseparable in no time.

In October, Britannia had the opportunity to celebrate Marie-Élise's birthday. The celebration was a bit awkward, since Britannia had to attend the family's celebration and, as it so happened, the Delacroix boy named Jean-Michel was rather obnoxious throughout the occasion, though he was rather worse to Marie-Claire than Britannia or Élise. The friends, by now just past the threshold of 'new,' had another celebration the next day by themselves and enjoyed it rather more, though this was the occasion on which Élise's acerbic wit first was deployed. The girls also went trick-or-treating together, much to the consternation of the Delacroix family – this was probably the first time they crossed the girls' friendship, though it would be far from the last.

Then, on a mid-November weekend, something rather unusual happened.

<<>>

The play-date – and this is the first and last time I will call it a “play-date,” I assure you – began fairly normally. Britannia had tricked her brother into buying three fake swords at the last Scottish festival (one for him, she had claimed, and one for each of his two friends, but of course, we can't trust them with such things, can we, we have to keep them ourselves), and on this occasion she fully intended to get Marie-Élise to handle one. Her plan to effect this incident was as complex and devious as it was foolproof, the product of many long minutes of careful diplomatic planning, and the ultimate demonstration of everything she'd learned about Marie-Élise as a friend.

“Wanna sword-fight?” she asked as Élise settled in.

“Okay,” Élise replied. “You'll have to teach me, though. We don't have such things at our home.”

“That's a shame.” Britannia made a face. “Hang on a sec, I'll go grab 'em.”

After a minute or so, during which time Élise pondered the spider's-web of trickery and diplomacy she'd just fallen into, Britannia returned with the faux-swords. They were made of plastic, just flimsy enough to cause no damage, and about seventy-five percent Britannia's height in length, which is to say that to Élise it was mainly a one-handed sword.
The blonde tossed a gold-painted blade to her friend, keeping a silver one for herself. “Uh, I have no idea how to teach you,” she admitted. “But I think a lot of it is imitation. Just do what they do in movies and video games and stuff. Especially Star Wars – the lightsabre fights were all put together by a real fencer.”

“Really?” The dark-haired girl handled the play-weapon for a moment, testing its weight and balance (though she didn't know what either of those were yet).

“Yeah. Nick something-or-other, I think.”

“That's interesting.” Élise slashed the air a few times. “All right, I think I'm ready.”

And the girls went at it. Britannia tweaked Élise's awkward defences here and there, advising her to use her wrist more and her arm less, and Élise, as usual, learned at a lightning pace, until finally Élise scored a touch with a well-placed stab, at which point Britannia jokingly “turned red” and the lesson devolved into a festival of laughter and mayhem perhaps more akin to the play of eleven-year-old boys than most eleven-year-old girls.
Finally, too tired to move much, the girls collapsed on the big couch at the edge of Britannia's living room and, for the first – but far from the last – time in their lives, something clicked.

<<>>

As she lay, exhausted, on the old couch, Britannia's mind was at first very, very dull. The heat of the fight still burned in her brain; she could hardly think straight at all. At first, she laughed as hard as she could considering she was out of breath. Then she noticed that, for whatever reason, Élise wasn't laughing.

Glancing down at the other girl from the other side of the couch, Britannia intended to figure out why. Then, her mind under the influence of myriad hormones, she forgot about this entirely when she actually saw Marie-Élise.

<<>>

Élise had never really experienced what Britannia meant to her until that moment.
She'd just experienced what was probably the most fun she'd had in her life thanks to the girl on the other end of the couch. And that was quite a girl. Britannia was practically choking on her laughter, arms folded into a strangely alluring position, her eyes wild...

...because she meant that much to Élise, mainly, and because Élise meant that much to her...

<<>>

It's difficult to describe what they were thinking as they kissed – neither would ever be able to describe that to anyone else. But to say that, if only for a few moments, they were absorbed in pure euphoria would not be at all inaccurate. By the time they'd managed to extract themselves from the kiss, they were catching their breath for an entirely different reason than their recent horseplay.

There was a long, awkward silence. Then –

“I love you,” Britannia gasped.

“I love you, too,” Élise replied forcefully.

Thus, two lilies were planted in the garden in the American sky.

But to see them fully bloom, one must fast forward three years and head to the admittedly odd Friedlander High School.
[/spoiler]
Eh. I'll post part two later once I'm done revising it. That includes, well, the main characters of the entire four-collection series, the titular American Tsundere.
[spoiler=Bibliothèque 250]
A Flower Garden in the American Sky
Monday, January 7, 2008
Bibliothèque 250

Yes! They still have it.

I stood on my tiptoes and managed to brush the bottom of the book. By age eleven, I still hadn’t breached four-six. Pitiful! Fingers outstretched, I tried wiggling the book free, to no avail.

Just as I was about to give up, a pale, slender hand retrieved the book for me. By now, I knew its owner very well.

“Élise!” Rather embarrassingly, I had to look up as soon as I turned around, as my face was at the height of her (already developing!) chest.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” said Marie-Élise Delacroix, a faint smile and a touch of colour illuminating her usually austere face. I giggled, still blushing.

“I guess you come by pretty often?”

“You could say that. Is once a week excessive, do you think?”

“Nah.”

“Thank you.”

Like I was about to insult her of all people.

“So, what were you checking out?” She glanced at the book she’d been kind enough to retrieve. “Assigned reading?” She blinked, surprised.

“Hey, it saves me ten bucks. Plus, I could get some other books while I was here.”

“Ever the miser, aren’t you.” She was smiling, though. “You need to live with me.”

“You don’t really strike me as a shopaholic, though.”

“What, you don’t want to?”

Blushing, I protested: “Of course I do.”

Élise beamed – and without warning, she kissed me on the forehead.

“Come on,” she said, leading my stunned body away. “I have some recommendations for you.”
[/spoiler]
THE MOST INCREDIBLY FLUFFY THING I'VE EVER WRITTEN. REJOICE.
[/spoiler]

[Supreme Gamesmaster]

...nothing?

For serious?

buuuuuuuuuuump

Also: added a very short, super-fluffy short story.