"Just us?" Osamu repeats, a little stunned. The food has to be enough for at least four people, although whatever is left over will be good enough for lunch for the next day. And hadn't Kita mentioned his parents would be home, or is Osamu's memory making things up?
Oh god. The domesticity increases. Osamu's heart is going to burst.
"What about your grandmother?" He asks, trying to keep it casual. "Doesn't she come over to eat with you sometimes?"
Osamu actually freezes for a moment as the glorious image of a group of old ladies playing Yu-Gi-Oh fills his mind. "Seriously? You should have said, 'Tsumu and I have a bunch of old cards we could've loaned 'em."
And then he remembers his twin, and the fight that brought him here, and he huffs a bit. "Food's done now," he says a little more stoically, turning the stove off beneath the pan. "Serve bowls here or bring it to the table?"
Kita laughs but lets the Yu-gi-oh discussion lie. A pity. It would be fun, hearing what kind of deck Osamu built as a kid. Considering his brother/ main opponent? Probably very focused on power and speed. Tripping over trap cards. Forgetting about recursion, healing, anything strategic -
Maybe later.
"The table. There's a mat for it."
After a short fuss, dinner is ready to start. Kita sets his palms together. Bows his head. Then raises a smile to Osamu.
To be perfectly fair, Osamu wasn't much better as a kid. Always looking for the tankiest monsters, trading for the hardest hitting cards. He played a slightly more defensive game than Atusmu - but only barely.
Osamu brings the pan over, contents still sizzling, and sets it on the hot pad. Takes his seat opposite Kita's, and joins him in the polite 'Thanks for the food.'
Then he grabs the spoon to serve them both the tofu dish.
"I really hope you like it. Be honest, though."
Especially after the talk he just had with his twin, and the resulting argument, he really needs to know whether he can hack it as a chef.
The thing is, he already likes this. Sitting with just one other person, not having to divide his attention. There's no chores, no tasks. Only this result.
He takes a bite.
Sighs with deep satisfaction.
"Ha - I see why this is your favorite part. That's amazing."
It's that moment for him. The way the look of satisfaction and pleasure spreads on Kita's face as soon as the food hits his tongue. The way his whole body shifts, responding to the texture and taste. It makes pride fill every millimeter of Osamu, and he sits up a little straighter, holds his head higher. Thinks, 'I want to do that for the whole world.'
"You really think so? I mean, ah, it's nothin'. Really simple dish, it's just about dressin' it up right."
Osamu is stunned for a moment, not used to this side of his normally very stoic upperclassman, but then he beams in spite of himself, puffed up with pride again.
"Well, if that's how you feel, then who needs modesty anyways?" He says with a toothy grin. "Dig in, Kita-san."
Kita's own shoulders lift, seeing that smile. Like everything's gone a bit lighter.
He sets to work. Progressing steadily through the food, instead of sending it up in a typhoon. (Like certain members of Inarizaki...) Each bite is as good as the last. Texture and taste working together.
While lacking words to explain, Kita knows this much - It feels right, eating Osamu's food.
Osamu follows Kita's lead, eating at his pace but with notable gusto. Osamu is certainly one of those people who lives to eat, rather than eating to live; he takes obvious joy in food, and the smile never fades from his face as he relishes in every flavorful bite.
He clears his bowls first, and then excuses himself and gets to his feet. "I can get started on those dishes while you finish up."
"There are tools next to the sink," Kita responds.
There are, in fact, three different sizes of gloves, polishing cloths, and new scrub brushes. Also the the good kind of cleaner. The one that smells of lilacs and bubbles just enough.
Kita makes sure to finish every bite. Then ferries in the rest of the dishes. He does not interfere with the washing, just begins to pack up leftovers. Because there's always another chore to do.
Osamu is impressed but not at all surprised by the spread of cleaning tools next to Kita's sink - it's to be expected from their captain, after all. He grabs the biggest pair of gloves and one of the brushes, and then gets to work on the plates, bowls, spoons, and chopsticks.
He's settled into the groove of scrubbing when Kita comes in and reminds him of the elephant in the room. Osamu sighs.
"Not much to tell. Told him I wasn't gonna keep playing volleyball after high school, and he acted like I killed his firstborn or something. Went off talking about our dream and how I was giving it up and betraying everything we'd been working for. Had to tell him off for being selfish and pushin' his dream onto me. Reminded him we're not an 'us'."
He rustles through a cabinet. Pulling out plastic containers and lining them up by size. Each with a matched lid.
The next words are thoughtful.
"I wonder... Is bein' selfish such a bad thing? Really, all it means is puttin' yourself first. Reachin' for the best version of your life. No matter what anyone says."
Osamu's still frowning, his body angry as he's reliving the fight with his twin.
"I don't care if Tsumu wants to be selfish with his life; playin' sports is pretty selfish in general, I think. Especially when you're an adult and you wanna go pro. But he doesn't get to be selfish with my life too. Thinkin' of me as just a part of him, instead of as my own person."
"Maybe it's more scared than selfish. The rules just changed to the game he thought he was playin'. Can't outrun it, hit it, jump over it..."
Methodically he divides the leftovers. Filling each container to just under the lid, so the contents won't spill out. Each presses shut with a satisfying snap.
"Scared?" Osamu repeats dubiously, turning to Kita with his eyebrows furrowed. "Scared of what? He's a shoo in for a pro career already, and he ain't even done with high school yet. They'd be stupid not to recruit him to their college teams or whatever. Even with his grades bein' what they are."
"He grows best with you. Wish it didn't involve so much yellin', but there it is.”
Pulling open a drawer, Kita sorts through pieces of fabric.
"And you won't be there. Not in the same way. I think everyone in high school has to deal with that, sooner or later. The fixed things shiftin'. The people you're so used to goin' off on their own lives."
The way Kita's talking is a stark reminder of their difference in maturity levels. Osamu wants to be angry and heated, but in the face of Kita's cool compassion, his logic and grown up way of looking at things, Osamu falters. Feels a bit small and silly, that Kita is being nicer to his own twin than Osamu is capable of right now.
"Is that what you're seein' now that you're a third year? That the end's in sight?"
Kita has the benefit of an outside view. He doesn't take that lightly. So there's no scolding in any of this, no stern advice. The warmth of the kitchen wrapping around them both.
Osamu sighs, shoulders slumping with the weight of his frustration and disappointment. Even though Kita isn't judging him, he's still not taking sides in all this. Still trying to make Osamu into the bigger person who can see how his twin is feeling.
"'Tsumu should be the one you tell all this too. About people bein' allowed to live their own lives."
"No, it ain't," Osamu agrees. "I dunno why I thought he could handle hearin' it in the first place. It was obvious he was gonna react badly." He sighs. "Maybe I was just annoyed hearin' him go on and on about that camp."
Which is not news to Osamu. No use beating the point to death.
"It must have been hard. Your brother thinkin' everything was fine when it wasn't. You've been keepin' it down for weeks? Months? All that pressure buildin' and buildin', and you didn't have your best vent."
Osamu came to Kita looking for sympathy, but ironically now that he's getting it, it's making him uncomfortable. "Well, you know, it wasn't that big of a deal. I mean sure, 'Tsumu can never see what's happenin' right in front of him unless you spell it out. But it's not like I wasn't invited to the camp. I just couldn't go because of my own stupidity."
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Oh god. The domesticity increases. Osamu's heart is going to burst.
"What about your grandmother?" He asks, trying to keep it casual. "Doesn't she come over to eat with you sometimes?"
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"She has Game Club. Said they're tryin' out Yu-gi-oh."
Retrieving the rice, Kita deposits a scoop in each bowl.
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And then he remembers his twin, and the fight that brought him here, and he huffs a bit. "Food's done now," he says a little more stoically, turning the stove off beneath the pan. "Serve bowls here or bring it to the table?"
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Maybe later.
"The table. There's a mat for it."
After a short fuss, dinner is ready to start. Kita sets his palms together. Bows his head. Then raises a smile to Osamu.
"Thanks for the food."
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Osamu brings the pan over, contents still sizzling, and sets it on the hot pad. Takes his seat opposite Kita's, and joins him in the polite 'Thanks for the food.'
Then he grabs the spoon to serve them both the tofu dish.
"I really hope you like it. Be honest, though."
Especially after the talk he just had with his twin, and the resulting argument, he really needs to know whether he can hack it as a chef.
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The thing is, he already likes this. Sitting with just one other person, not having to divide his attention. There's no chores, no tasks. Only this result.
He takes a bite.
Sighs with deep satisfaction.
"Ha - I see why this is your favorite part. That's amazing."
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"You really think so? I mean, ah, it's nothin'. Really simple dish, it's just about dressin' it up right."
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"Don't start bein' modest now. No one would believe it."
There's a warmth in there. In fact, from anyone else? It would be full-on teasing.
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"Well, if that's how you feel, then who needs modesty anyways?" He says with a toothy grin. "Dig in, Kita-san."
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He sets to work. Progressing steadily through the food, instead of sending it up in a typhoon. (Like certain members of Inarizaki...) Each bite is as good as the last. Texture and taste working together.
While lacking words to explain, Kita knows this much - It feels right, eating Osamu's food.
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He clears his bowls first, and then excuses himself and gets to his feet. "I can get started on those dishes while you finish up."
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There are, in fact, three different sizes of gloves, polishing cloths, and new scrub brushes. Also the the good kind of cleaner. The one that smells of lilacs and bubbles just enough.
Kita makes sure to finish every bite. Then ferries in the rest of the dishes. He does not interfere with the washing, just begins to pack up leftovers. Because there's always another chore to do.
"So: What happened?"
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He's settled into the groove of scrubbing when Kita comes in and reminds him of the elephant in the room. Osamu sighs.
"Not much to tell. Told him I wasn't gonna keep playing volleyball after high school, and he acted like I killed his firstborn or something. Went off talking about our dream and how I was giving it up and betraying everything we'd been working for. Had to tell him off for being selfish and pushin' his dream onto me. Reminded him we're not an 'us'."
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He rustles through a cabinet. Pulling out plastic containers and lining them up by size. Each with a matched lid.
The next words are thoughtful.
"I wonder... Is bein' selfish such a bad thing? Really, all it means is puttin' yourself first. Reachin' for the best version of your life. No matter what anyone says."
Like Osamu's doing now.
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"I don't care if Tsumu wants to be selfish with his life; playin' sports is pretty selfish in general, I think. Especially when you're an adult and you wanna go pro. But he doesn't get to be selfish with my life too. Thinkin' of me as just a part of him, instead of as my own person."
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"Maybe it's more scared than selfish. The rules just changed to the game he thought he was playin'. Can't outrun it, hit it, jump over it..."
Methodically he divides the leftovers. Filling each container to just under the lid, so the contents won't spill out. Each presses shut with a satisfying snap.
"Doesn't mean he should take it out on you."
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Pulling open a drawer, Kita sorts through pieces of fabric.
"And you won't be there. Not in the same way. I think everyone in high school has to deal with that, sooner or later. The fixed things shiftin'. The people you're so used to goin' off on their own lives."
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"Is that what you're seein' now that you're a third year? That the end's in sight?"
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Kita has the benefit of an outside view. He doesn't take that lightly. So there's no scolding in any of this, no stern advice. The warmth of the kitchen wrapping around them both.
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"'Tsumu should be the one you tell all this too. About people bein' allowed to live their own lives."
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Kita looks up from the fabric, which he's tying around the boxes. Meeting Osamu's eyes.
"Right now? I just want to talk to you. I'm not sayin' all this because you shouldn't be hurt, or angry. You are. That ain't gettin' fixed tonight."
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Which is not news to Osamu. No use beating the point to death.
"It must have been hard. Your brother thinkin' everything was fine when it wasn't. You've been keepin' it down for weeks? Months? All that pressure buildin' and buildin', and you didn't have your best vent."
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