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First Meeting

Matcha shut the backdoor that led into his kitchen with a triumphant click. His day had almost been ruined that morning, when he went to deliver an order for a tea party, only to have the party-thrower throw it back in his face. He was wailing something about no point in throwing a party with no people to party with. Fickle people.

He had been trudging back home when he had met with an older Persian gentleman. Matcha had seen him around before, but never spoken with him, far too busy with work. Today, having written the day off as a loss, he stopped for a chat and sold most of his traditional green tea stock.
Apparently the gentleman was a fan, and had even gone so far as to set up a monthly order.
Normally, that sort of tea didn't sell well, despite Matcha's own personal preference for it. To find a consistent buyer... Matcha was quite elated.

He set his tea box down on the kitchen table, but instead of sorting through it as he might of a few weeks ago, he moved across the threshold into the living room.
The egg he had found, he had wrapped in blankets on the couch, and despite his initial demeanor when finding the egg, he almost looked forward to checking in on the egg.

Today however... He wasn't greeted with the now familiar patterned cream shell.
Two wide, grey eyes were peeking out from over the arm of the couch at him.

Matcha drew up short.

There was a blonde-haired little kid on his couch. Where had his egg gone?

The kid, as if recognizing Matcha, sat up straight, beaming at him. The child's long shirt was patterned with the red and blue eggs the egg had been decorated with.

Matcha raised his hand to smack his forehead.
Of course the egg had hatched. Wasn't that what eggs did, after all?
He knew that, perfectly well, and yet here he stood shocked at the actuality of it.

The child's grin had faded slightly, head tilting to one side with curiosity. With this movement, Matcha's eyes caught a flash of metal tangled with the child's blonde hair.
Once again moving forward, Matcha came to kneel in front of the child, and untangled what appeared to be a large set of wire-framed glasses from the child's disheveled hair.

He settled them into place on the kid's face, who blinked owlishly, before breaking out into a wide smile again.
The kid's hands raised up to touch either side of the frames, and a chipper voice bubbled out, "Not blurry now~!"

Matcha smiled at the child's exuberance, and leaned back slightly.
He supposed it would do well to introduce himself. This child was his responsibility now.
Placing his hand on his chest, he said in a slow voice. "I'm Matcha."

The child's eyes fixed back on his, and after a few beats, the bubbly voice repeated; "Ma... Mach... Ma-ch... Ma-Ma."
Beaming triumphantly at defeating the tricksy name, the child went back to fussing with his glasses.

Matcha's face went red at the new nickname, "Nonono... Matcha."

Defiant grey eyes turned to his, and the child abandoned his glasses to cross his arms stubbornly.
"Ma-ma."

"Matcha."

"... Ma-ma."

And thus a staring match ensued. Neither side looked like it was going to give.
Both had stubborn looks on their faces, though the child's was more cute than anything.
After a while, Match relented, "Fine, fine. Ma-ma."

The child's face instantly resumed its bright smile, pleased with winning. "Ma-ma~ I win!"

Ill disposed to letting the child bask overmuch in his victory, Matcha interrupted, "What is your name?"

At that question, the kid stopped again, face falling as he thought. After a few moments, he nervously put a finger to his lips and shook his head.
"Dunno."

Well, of course he wouldn't have a name. Even if he could talk...
"Well... I guess I'll have to give you a name then."
Matcha paused, thinking carefully as the inquisitive child stared back at him.
"I'd say 'Momotaro' ... but you're not much of a peach... How about... 'Tamago'? You were an egg."

The child stuck his tongue out at the suggestion, "Am not egg. I'm..."
The kid waved his hand wildly, at a loss for words.

Matcha, normally stoic, couldn't help but to snort at the kid's antics.
"Alright. Fair enough... How about... 'Tamaki'? It sounds similar, but its different."

There was another pause, and after deliberation, Tamaki nodded.
And so he was named.

Now smiling, Matcha sheepishly scratched his chin, "I guess I should go buy some food and things... I didn't exactly prepare for this..."

Tamaki broke out in another ear to ear grin, and launched himself at Matcha, clinging to the Sawsbuck, "Shopping! Let's go shopping!"

"Alright, alright... We'll go."
Matcha chortled and set Tamaki down on the floor. The kid was so excited he was dancing in place. Best not keep him waiting.

To the market~