1 Remember Your Dream? (1)
Season 1
Chapter 1: Episode 1 - Remember Your Dream? (1)
Ever since that day came, I wanted to give up all hope in my dream. I thought that since you were no longer in this world anymore, what was the use in fulfilling a dream that I had no motivation to accomplish when you left me? I always told you that I too, would also become a world-famous patissiere, but then *that* day came and I became lost… When will I jump back to reality, Mom? When will I find myself again?
Michiko Keiko's POV
Knock knock knock~
As I sat at my desk, filling out next week's homework, I heard light knocks against my bedroom door that caused my attention to focus elsewhere other than my school work. I dropped the pencil I was holding onto the surface of my desk and answered,
"Come in."
The door creaked open and the light emanating from my room revealed my father and stepmother hesitating to enter.
My tall father with his short brown hair, hazel eyes, and short beard walked into my room alongside my stepmother Kaori, her dark hair and eyes shining in the light when she walked in.
Finally acknowledging their presence, I shifted my body to face them as they slowly walked in. My father sat on one corner of my bed and Kaori sat just right next to him, both facing me, not one of us saying anything.
Glancing at both of them, they seemed as if they wanted to say something, but the words weren't coming out of their mouths.
The air between us seemed sluggish as nobody said anything, causing the awkward quietness to continue.
"What is it?" I asked, finally breaking the air of silence between us.
"Say, Keiko… how would you like the idea of transferring to a new school?" My father asked, getting some of the words to come out.
"Why?" I asked with a straight face, staring at them.
"Well, there is a school a little farther away from here and… and..." Dad struggled to complete his sentence.
"—What your father was trying to say is that he recently saw an interesting school online and called to see if they were accepting transfers," Kaori jumped in.
"And why would I agree to transfer schools? I'm fine where I'm at," I pointed out, unsure of where this conversation was heading.
Glancing at both of them, my dad sat up with confidence, ready to say what he wanted to say.
"Keiko, both me and your stepmother know that you have uncharted grades and we thought that maybe this could be an opportunity for you to achieve a higher education elsewhere," Dad introduced and this peaked my attention.
"And?" I instructed him to continue.
"Well, this school that I was looking into, not only is it known for its high education, it also has a unique specialty that you like—baking," he forced out the words that made my brain stagger as he said it.
Baking.
The word didn't sit well in my mind. All baking did was bring a bad omen to me. A dream that I had sought out when I was younger disappeared as I grew older.
"Not *like,* *liked,*" I corrected, my bright blue eyes glaring straight at them.
'I thought they already knew that I no longer wanted to be associated with that word, so why are they bringing this up now?'
"Remember when you were younger, you always wanted to become a world-famous patissiere," Dad said while still trying to persuade me.
"You said it yourself. When I was younger. Anyways, what does this school have anything to do with baking and becoming a patissiere?"
"Well… Should I tell you the name of this school?" He gazed straight into my eyes to see if he piqued my interest. Glancing at Kaori and back at Dad, I nodded my head unknowingly.
"It's called the St. Marie Academy," he answered.
'St. Marie Academy? Why does that name sound so familiar?'
Thoughts were racing through me and I felt a sharp pain in my head while I tried to remember. The memories I tried so hard to bury slowly began seeping into my brain. Recognizing the name, a memory rushed in my mind…
- - -
There she was. My mom, Ella Fournier, a world-famous patissiere who was rummaging through a closet in our old house with her shiny, long blonde hair and house clothes on.
"What are you looking for, Mom?" 6-year-old me asked questionably, standing right outside the storage closet in our old home. My long brown hair was up in a cute ponytail and my blue eyes focused only on my mother.
"Pictures," she answered briefly, focusing on what she was doing.
"What kind of pictures— "
"—YESSS! I found them!" Mom shrieked with excitement as she came out from the room, bringing out a dusty photo album that she wiped with her hand. Her bright blue eyes lit up at the sight of this photo album and I looked at her confusedly.
Both of our bright blue eyes met and my mom shot the confused young me a warm smile. She walked towards the sofa that was not too far from the closet, handing me the old photo album.
"Can I open it?" I asked with an excited look on my face.
"Of course you can!" Mom responded with a belated smile.
Remembering her happy gaze always brought joy to my world when I was young but remembering it now, it hurt to think that that smile was gone.
I opened the photo album to the first page.
"Ah, isn't that a strawberry swiss roll cake?" I pointed at a picture of a white roll filled with strawberries and whipped cream.
"Haha, yeah..." She chuckled embarrassedly. "This was the first cake I ever made. I think I was around your age when I made it. Honestly, it's not the best thing to look at again."
"When I get older, I want to be like Mommy! A world-famous patissiere!" I smiled cheerfully at her, my eyes gleaming in joy.
Mom was French and she had European features like shiny blonde hair and bright blue eyes. My father is Japanese so his hair and eye color were much darker than my mother's, like his brown hair and hazel eyes. I always looked more like my mother than my father, but the only difference between me and my mother was that I had my father's brown hair color. She was a stunning beauty even in the celebrity world, and she became a young world-renown patissiere chef at the age of 25.
My 6-year-old self continued flipping through the photo album and stopped when I saw my mom, who was a little younger, next to a handsome blonde boy with baby blue eyes, smiling as they stood in front of a big water fountain.
"This was at the St. Marie Academy in France. This boy right here was my good student, Henri Lucas. I taught him 2 years before I had you, Keiko."
"Huh?" Something else caught my attention.
Taking a closer look at the picture, a small petite fairy hastily appeared and it looked like it was almost the size of my mom's head. The fairy had long, golden-blonde hair with a pink bow on the right side of her head. She looked like a noble fairy girl in a light pink dress, holding a golden staff with a spoon at the end.
"What is that next to you?" I asked, pointing at the fairy in the picture in curiosity.
"What do you mean?" Mom asked in bewilderment, bringing the photo album closer to her so she could see clearly.
"It looks like a pink fairy next to you!"
"What fairy? I don't see one," she shrugged her shoulders in defeat as if there was nothing there. But when I looked at her neck near her blonde hair, it was hard not to notice a glimmering light right next to her. It was almost like... magic.
I questioned if I was really seeing things.
- - -
The scene ran through my mind when my mom clearly stated that she went to the St. Marie Academy in France to make her lifelong dream a reality—to become an honored and acclaimed patissiere.
Ever since she passed that day, I never wanted to set foot in a kitchen and bake again because my only motivation to keep going was gone. My dream of becoming a patissiere disappeared once my mom died and I continued to feel this lingering emptiness inside of me, but the memories I wanted to hide away to protect myself from admitting that she was gone, lingered.
I still remember her encouraging me and telling me that she would always be there to support whatever I wanted to do in my life, be it a patissiere or something else.
Is it still too late to prove to her that I haven't given up yet?
Focusing back on my dad and Kaori as I thought about their offer thoroughly, I finally had my answer.
