A Firefly's Glow

Chapter Fifteen: Part Six

Mikan gaped at the cash register in shock. “There’s so little money!”

“At least we made money!” Sora growled in objection. “I can’t come up with the brilliantly successful ideas that you can come up with, Mikan!”

“Hey, at least that Chunky Chunky Choco Cake got ordered a bunch of times today,” I added, trying to calm the two of them down. “It’s like our customers look forward to eating things that look like they’ve been pried off the road.”

“It doesn’t matter what it looks like!” Mikan protested, turning towards me with a confident fist waving in the air. “As long as it’s delicious, people will dig in!”

“Yes, but it needs to look good for the customers to be willing to put it in their mouths.” Amanatsu stated, giving me a small smile letting me know that he was supporting my opinions.

“Touché, dear brother,” Mikan confirmed, swerving her head around to face the figure that stood behind her.

I widened my smile. “Your uniforms are cute.”

Mikan glanced at the black outfit that she wore. The long, thin sleeves of the uniform covered her arms, and her collar was neatly folded. A spotless, black apron was tied around her waist over neatly creased dress pants. Her hair was pulled back into a bun with curly bundles of hair straying against her cheeks.

“Oh, thank you.” She chirped, giving me a cheery smile. “These uniforms are so much more sophisticated than the Orange Café’s. The whole uniform is one color.”

I glanced from the black cloth of Mikan’s uniform to the school uniform that I had just changed back into. The same, dark shade of black seemed almost identical.

I peered at Amanatsu. “Wow, you look dashing.” I could help but add a bit of what sounded like sarcasm in my voice.

Amanatsu was dressed in a black, tightly buttoned blazer with golden buttons. A puffy handkerchief had been placed beneath his neck, and his hands were enveloped in white gloves.

His honey-streaked hair was neatly brushed across his forehead. His bundles of hair gently sat over his ears. He looked so different from the usual, messy hair-do he had when I would see him after school.

“It’s really uncomfortable.” Amanatsu confirmed, pulling at his silky gloves.

“Aw, but you got so many complements from our customers!” Mikan giggled, nudging Amanatsu with a fist.

“Complements?” I questioned, feeling my curiosity grow.

“Yes,” Amanatsu let out a long sigh. “Every complement was the same!” Amanatsu then began to mimic a broad voice that sounded like that of an opera singer.

“’My dear boy!’” he bellowed, dramatically waving his arms in the air. “’You look handsome tonight!’”

The room filled with our giggles. Amanatsu mimicked an opera voice so well, it was hilariously laughable.

“And then there was, ‘My dear boy! You look dashing!’”

“Oh.” I felt my cheeks begin to flush. “Sorry, I just repeated that complement myself just a second ago, didn’t I?”

“It’s sounds different coming from you, Hotaru,” Amanatsu shrugged, still pulling at his gloves.

“Oh, that’s good.” I widely grinned. “But you really do look dashing.”

“’Dashing’ is a word from the nineteenth century,” Amanatsu clearly informed, narrowing his eyes and expressing a smile in return. “’Dashing’ is a word used to describe the way Mikan walked into the restaurant when she thought there was lots of money in the cash register.”