Chapter Text
Marcille sat in the corner of the quaint café, her slender fingers tapping lightly against the worn wooden table. The café itself was a cosy space, filled with the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the soft murmur of conversations. Sunlight streamed in through the large windows, casting warm beams across the room and illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air.
Her eyes flicked back to the paper in front of her, frustration evident in the furrow of her brow. She sighed, chewing on her lip in frustration.
She was reading a paragraph that she had absolutely no focus on. But she needed to do something to pass the time, she needed to be at this table–Why? Well that's a longer story:
Years back, Marcille was a spritely (some would say -annoying- overly confident) student.
She retook classes, not in the way where she needed to, nope, she passed them, but whenever she had a free study she would attend other classes just to hear about more and more of the same thing she knew everything about. Or at least, thought she knew everything about.
It all started back when she was just 15. They were studying ecology. The task was to create a biologically sound microcosm and foster a healthy mini-environment… It usually was a breeze, and always a fun class - she always relished the moment the younger students would gush over how well her plants and bugs were doing, how healthy they all looked.
Marcille was only young back then, 15 years of age is hardly old enough for her to be emotionally mature, and she doesn't judge herself, she’s aware was a prideful creature.
So she is not embarrassed to say that back then she really did enjoy the compliments of her teachers and also yes–got a little kick out of showing up the younger students.
This particular class that comes to mind was 3 years below her, and so, was filled with 12 year olds.
One 12 year old who completely out-did her. Outshone her. And was quite clearly a genius.
At just twelve years old, she effortlessly outdid Marcille’s assignment–Her first time round and she had smashed it out the park…Unbelieveable.
(stupid) Marcille couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy.
Gone was Marcille's sense of superiority, replaced instead by a humbling realisation of her own limitations.
Despite her initial pride, Marcille found herself asking the younger girl how she did it. Surprisingly, the short, chubby-cheeked 12 year old let her in on all her secrets…
And from there on Marcille was always retaking the same classes as the younger girl whenever it didn't clash with her actual classes. (Because of course she couldn't miss those). She was drawn to the girl's quiet confidence and gentle demeanour. She exuded a sense of calm wisdom beyond her years.
She had for once, herself, been the gushing cohort. She would go to the younger girl for tips and questions that not even her teachers could explain.
She had such a soothing and gentle energy to her for someone so young – she never spoke as though she knew more than you. Only a gentle, calm and clear explanation. More often than not, the girl would let silences linger, especially as she thought carefully how to explain. She was in her own way, an extrovert in quietness.
They had become friends, though at first Marcille did try to avoid it. But the Younger girl would slink some cool herb, rock, flower—you name it; onto Marcilles desk. At first, yes, it was odd. But it was simultaneously charming. The younger girl was an ashy blonde, short, chubby little girl with squinted eyes (because she was short-sighted but explained she didn't want to wear glasses).
Her name was Falin Touden.
But Marcille was only in that school another 3 years till she reached 18, As time in school drew to a close, she felt the stirrings of ambition propelling her forward. Marcille wanted to finally get away from school and get into university, where she could really follow her passions.
She was sure she could cast her net wide, applying early to every prestigious university she deemed worthy of her talents.
It was a whirlwind of applications and when the acceptance letters finally came, Marcille wasted no time in seizing the best opportunity possible. She set her sights on the most prestigious university that would have her.
That university is where she would finally put herself to good use! It was
a sprawling labyrinth of ivy-covered buildings and bustling student life.
Among the brightest minds of her generation, Marcille put herself to the test, pushing herself to new heights of academic excellence
and as the years flew by, she felt herself grow and evolve, each lesson learned a stepping stone on the path to her ultimate goal.
(She tried to ignore the fact that she literally barely made any friends, nothing that seemed to stick anyway)
For four long years, she delved deep into her studies, and then, in her fifth and final year, the culmination of all her hard work and dedication came to fruition. With diploma in hand, Marcille emerged from the university as a fully-fledged pharmacist doing her job placement year, her head held high with pride and accomplishment. At the ripe age of only 23, she had achieved her dream.
Marcille felt incredibly proud of herself.
The thing is…
Marcille actually just… ordered food for her entire time in university.
She had stuck to the familiar comfort of takeout and microwave meals.
It wasn't that she lacked the ability to cook—she could whip up a decent egg when the occasion called for it ( Most of the time that turns out fine) —but rather, she had never felt the need to venture beyond the realm of instant noodles and toast, boiled vegetables and rice.
In her childhood, her mother had cooked her delicious home-cooked meals.
But as Marcille grew older she found herself relying more and more on convenience foods to sustain her through the rigours of university life. After all, who had the time or energy to cook when there were lectures to attend, assignments to complete, and exams to study for?
But now, with her days as a pharmacy student behind her and a stable job to support her, Marcille had money in her pocket and more time on her hands than she knew what to do with.
And so, in true Marcille fashion, she did what she did best—she sought out another “classroom”.
In other words: he has signed up for a cooking class.
She showed up to the meeting spot an hour or two early, to read up on some new and cutting edge medicines her company is working on, but she finished her coffee like ages ago and the words on the paper are starting to blur with boredom.
The ambiance in the café shifted subtly as Marcille's attention was drawn to the sound of oncoming steps. With a curious glance, she looked up to find herself met with the sight of a tall figure approaching her table, his long strides carrying him closer to Marcille with an ease that spoke of confidence.
Finally she hears a chair across from her scraping against the polished wooden floor and -
“Hi, my name's Laois!” The man's voice was warm and inviting, carrying a hint of a gentle accent that added a touch of charm to his words.
He was tall, blond and rugged but he had soft eyes.
He reached out a large palm slowly in front of her - a real contrast from the rough way he handled his chair.
“Marcille,” She replies, taking his hand briefly.
Another man walks towards the table. This man, in stark contrast to the easygoing charm of Laois, exuded an air of intensity that seemed to precede him despite his much shorter stature. His dark, flowing locks framed a simple face.
Suddenly Marcille realised she might be the only woman learning to cook as an adult…at least in this class. (How embarrassing) But hey! Someone needs to break stereotypes. That isn't even that funny, or soothing, she thinks.
“Hello.” He gruffly announced at the table. “This is my cafe, I assume since you’ve sat at the reserved table you-”
“Hi sorry I’m late!” Another man interrupts, he’s pretty short and wiry, but he looks the most normal guy here out of the three, he looks like he could be in his thirties or maybe fourties by the way crows feet staple the corner of his eyes, and his hands are aged, despite his young looking features like his smaller nose, warm eyes and chestnut brown hair.
“Sorry.” He says again as he pulls out a chair in the middle.
“That’s okay.” The gruff, dark haired man states before continuing. “This is the table for the cooking class sign up.”
Marcille looks around at the two men beside her on the table and is tempted to pretend she had no idea. She desperately wishes she could bow out. But before she could possibly consider it, the gruff looking man starts up again.
“It won't cost ya a thing. I do this to teach adults how to cook. I know what it's like to need a lesson or two sometimes, and cooking is my passion so it's no skin off my back.” Then finally, he turns and grabs a tray from behind his counter, “I’m Senshi - Today you will try some of my mushroom soup and then: you’ll be helping me make it.”
He places the tray in the middle of the table.
Marcille has to admit, it looks good. It smells good. That big Laios guy is almost drooling as he grabs one of the four empty bowls on the tray. Senshi quietly waits till everyone has an empty bowl and then uses a ladle to fill up everones with just 2 scoops.
It's a good amount for tasting without making you full. Everyone takes their first sips.
It's delicious. It's so good she's almost a little mad because she just knows she can't possibly make this.
But Senshi is a good teacher, it turns out. He works in a team based way. He shows everyone what he's doing, asks for help, lets people each taste it along the way. Shows everyone how to cut and dice. It feels relaxed - And friendly. She hadn't remembered this type of friendly learning since way back when she met that young Falin Touden. It feels like being taught by a savant. A genius who knows exactly what they're doing, how they're doing it, and the best way to communicate and teach it.
By the time the small session was over, each of them got to take home a portion in a to-go container.
It was kinda nice to learn in that way again.
It felt like making friends, she hadn’t done that in a long time.
Most of her friends are “Study Buddies” Or “Colleagues”. They’re nice, sure, but this felt nostalgic.