Chapter Text
White fog flits through the air as Keiji slowly exhales. Winter is in full swing, and while it is one of her favorite seasons, it can be a little unforgiving, especially on such an early morning. The sky hasn't even changed from its pitch black yet, making their travel all the more warmthless.
"Maaaan, it's super cold, Keiji. Do you even know where you're going?" Yukie complains, vigorously rubbing her arms. Yukie is like a lizard when it comes to temperature; she can't stand the cold and often finds herself slowing down, much like a cold blooded reptile would. Keiji has seen her nap an entire day away during winter seasons in true hibernating fashion.
"Osamu-kun sent me a map. It's just a little bit past that bridge over there. We can ask them for tea once we get there," Keiji responds cheerily despite the less than favorable weather. She's excited to see Osamu after so long, so forgive her if she walks a little too fast.
" Osamu - kun sent me a map," Yukie mocks with a poor imitation of Keiji's voice, but Keiji's too upbeat to be bothered by it. "Are you two dating?"
"No," she replies promptly with no further explanation.
"You're so complicated, Keiji. You're practically married at this point," Yukie says lightheartedly.
"That's not true," Keiji mumbles. "I barely see him."
Yukie shivers, but it's probably also out of disgust. "Ah, the young and hopelessly smitten. Cringe."
"You should find somebody too, Yukie," Keiji muses, the skip in her steps returning. "Oh! When we get there, you can't hit on Shin-chan. Apparently Atsumu-san is in love with him. I don't want to get on my future in-law's bad side."
Yukie scoffs. "Okay, first of all, how dare you choose your not-boyfriend's brother over me, your blood relative, and second--how hot can this Shin-chan be?"
"Oh," Yukie gasps weakly. "I see."
Keiji snickers. "No flirting, okay?"
Yukie turns to her, heart eyes evident. She hasn't even known Shin-chan for more than a few minutes and she looks like she's already planning their future house and kids.
"But what if he's my soulmate? Keiji, you can't possibly--"
"Keiji-kun! Yer here! Happy new year, my dear," greets Kita-obaachan upon seeing her. She's looking sprightly despite the cold, and her white hair pops out in stark contrast with the early morning sky. Keiji hugs her in greeting and formally introduces Yukie.
"Thank you for inviting us over, Kita-obaasan. We usually celebrate the New Year with just us two," Yukie says kindly.
"My, it's no worry, dear! The New Year here on our farm has always been a community celebration. Yer always welcome here!"
Yukie and Kita-obaachan continue their conversation, but Keiji opts out of it, searching the dark fields for a head of gray hair instead. What she told Yukie earlier was true--she hasn’t seen Osamu nearly enough recently especially since the Inarizaki boys’ team went on a training camp in another prefecture for the first half of winter break, then she had to visit Tokyo for the latter half. Osamu finally had this genius idea of asking Kita-obaachan for her number, but even their shy little texts aren’t enough to stave off her yearning. Not that she’d ever admit that she missed him, of course.
“Oh, Keiji-kun, Juichi is in the farmhouse preparin’ the material for the mochi making. Don’t worry--he’ll be out before the sun rises. Betcha want to watch it together, eh?”
Embarrassed to have been seen through so easily, Keiji coughs into her hand. She tries painfully hard to ignore Yukie’s teasing nudges against her ribs, but Kita-obaachan seems to be having a kick out of it. She doesn’t have the heart to be mad about it though, the mood of the farm--along with the families gathered around the field today to watch the first sunrise of the year--is so festive that Keiji would rather just keep her mouth shut.
The children are already running around the damp grass as if they have an endless supply of energy. Keiji envies them a little bit for being so carefree and lively despite the time, but then she thinks of the way Osamu and Atsumu had once been little kids like them, also tirelessly jumping around, maybe even pulling at each other’s hair. It’s a cute little mental image that makes the tips of her toes tingle with warmth.
One of the kids bumps into her, and from the force of her contact, she falls flat on her bottom. She looks up, fear evident in her eyes, probably convinced that Keiji would get mad at her, but Keiji crouches down and kindly helps her up instead.
“Are you hurt?” she asks gently, so as to not scare the kid away.
The kid shyly shakes her head, wide eyes looking up at Keiji much like a pitiful cat would. Oh. Keiji has found a kindred spirit.
“Not much of a talker, are you? I’m the same,” Keiji whispers into her ear like it’s a little secret between them. “Can I know your name?”
“...Hitoka,” she mumbles. The kid places her hands behind her and shifts on her feet. She's so small and adorable, probably no older than five years old.
“Are you here to watch the sunrise too?”
Hitoka nods timidly and her blonde pigtails nod along with her. Keiji looks around and sees a tall lady who looks like she could be her mother immersed in what seems to be a serious call. If it's a call urgent enough to be answered despite the holiday, then Keiji's inclined to think that she better not bother her. The rest of the kids all seem to be involved in a wild game of tag, which, if Keiji's being honest, doesn't seem like a game this shy little girl would like to be playing.
"I better let you get back to your friends then. Be more careful, alright? You can get seriously hurt." Keiji then stands up with the intention to return to Yukie, but Hitoka's hesitant "Onee-san," halts her steps.
"What is it, Hitoka-san?" Keiji asks in concern upon seeing her big brown eyes build up tears.
Hitoka wordlessly shows Keiji her hands which are actually littered with bits of dirt and grass.
"Oh, does it actually hurt? You should've told me." Keiji gently brushes off the debris on her hands and checks her backside for any more mud. "Why don't we tell your mother then--”
Hitoka vigorously yanks her hand back with as much force as a little kid can muster. She shakes her head animatedly, and it’s all Keiji needs to understand that they must not let her mother find out under any circumstances.
“All right, let’s go,” Keiji says hushedly.
She sneakily walks into one of the nearby storehouses with Hitoka bunched up in her arms. Hopefully she can find a faucet or any sort of clean water source somewhere around. Instead, she serendipitously encounters someone else. When she opens the doors of the storehouse, there stands Osamu, back faced towards her. He hasn't seen them yet, and so he continues barking orders at Atsumu, who Keiji is only realizing was there too.
"Osa-" Keiji begins to call, but to her surprise, she gets beaten to it.
"Samu-samu!" Hitoka exclaims with all the childish wonder in her little body. For a second, all traces of her shyness disappear and she becomes a bubbly little lady with energy matching that of her rowdy playmates.
Osamu turns around, and he must not have been expecting Keiji to be there along with the owner of the sweet voice because he does a double take, cheeks turning redder than it had already been.
"H-hey, Hitoka-chan. The sun is rising soon. What are ya doin' here?"
Keiji smiles and pretends to not notice how jittery Osamu is.
"My hands are dirty. Onee-san will help clean," Hitoka answers, bright and completely comfortable, unlike the timid girl she was twenty seconds ago.
There isn't any plumbing near their immediate vicinity, so Osamu just douses Hitoka's hands with the water from his bottle. Keiji helps her rub the dirt off and inspect for any cuts or scrapes. Once satisfied, Keiji asks Hitoka to shake the excess water off her hands and wipes them dry with the end of her scarf.
"It's cold, huh? I can lend you my gloves, but they'll be pretty big on you. Is that okay?"
Hitoka looks up at Keiji with endearing puppy eyes and she melts.
"But your hands will get cold…"
"Don't worry, Hitoka-chan. I'll hold Onee-san's hand to keep her warm," Osamu chirps, and even just that single cheeky comment manages to fill every cell in Keiji's body with heat.
"That's disgusting, you two. Cut that out," Atsumu pipes from the back. He's rolling out what seems to be a giant bowl--or more accurately a giant wooden mortar with how thick it is. He halts in his rolling and stretches his back, dramatically acting like an old man who's exerting himself too much.
"Unfortunately, this brother of mine has to help me roll this heavy motherfu--I mean, uh, this heavy usu outside."
"Nice save, idiot," Osamu deadpans.
" Gosh, dear brother; watch your language! There is a child present!" Atsumu says theatrically, as if he didn't almost say something worse.
Keiji watches the exchange with a fond giggle. She gathers Hitoka back into her arms again which prompts the boys to look at her.
"It's fine, Osamu-kun. We'll go ahead first since Hitoka-chan's mother might be worrying by now." Then, she follows up a little more shyly, "...Won't you be watching the sunrise with us?"
Osamu swivels his head towards Atsumu in a wordless plea for permission. The older twin's left eye twitches once, twice before he lets out a long-suffering groan and acquiesces.
"Fine! Fine! Just help me get this thing out first then we'll go ask Kita-san to help me the rest of the way."
"I'll find you in the fields, Akaashi," Osamu says, excitement evident in his voice even though he tries to play it off coolly. "Go ahead."
Keiji carries Hitoka back out into the gathering of community folks with the warmth on her cheeks persisting. She can feel Hitoka looking at her curiously and she just knows that the kid is brimming with questions she's too shy to ask.
"Onee-chan?" She calls meekly, and at first, Keiji thinks that she's about to make the plunge and ask her a barrage of questions, but she doesn't. Hitoka's looking sadly towards the direction of her mother who is still on the phone even after all that has transpired. Keiji recognizes that sadness in Hitoka's eyes--it's something she's been familiar with all of her childhood. Sure, she's older now and understands why her own parents have to be so busy all the time, but for a child like Hitoka, it's probably a lot more upsetting to get neglected like this.
"Would you like to stay with me for a while?" Keiji asks gently.
Hitoka nods sadly, like she doesn't really want to, but has no choice. Keiji isn't in any position to be nagging Hitoka's mother, so all she does for now is offer the kid her support.
"Cheer up, Hitoka-chan. Let's talk about something more fun--what kind of things do you like?"
"...I like drawing," Hitoka opens up just a little, like a tightly-shut jar that's starting to budge.
"That's amazing, Hitoka-chan. I'd like to see your works one day."
"Do you like drawing, Onee-san?"
Keiji chuckles as the mental image of her horrid stick figures flash in her mind. "I'm not very good at it. I doubt I can be better than you."
"What do you like, Onee-san?" Hitoka asks, getting more and more comfortable around Keiji.
"I like reading and writing," Keiji says with a little smile.
"You're just like Okaa-san. She's always reading and writing," Hitoka says, but Keiji doesn't miss the inadequately masked loneliness in her voice. It's pitiful; children shouldn't have to hide their sadness at such a young age.
"Your Okaa-san must be working hard. You should tell her to take a break and play with you sometime," Keiji comments, only to realize she's being a hypocrite. She never really did take the time to demand anything for herself. She lacked both the spine and self-assurance to assert anything to anyone, and maybe that made her into the recluse she once was.
Was. Oh, look at that. She's grown a little bit.
"What else do you like, Onee-san?" Even for someone as young as her, she already knows how to switch the topic to avoid talking about something unpleasant. Keiji's starting to see more and more of herself in Hitoka.
"I like eating. I like lots and lots of food," Keiji says playfully to lighten the mood. She knows Hitoka would appreciate it.
"You'll like Samu-samu a lot then!" Hitoka suddenly beams excitedly. "He's good at cooking and he also likes to eat. He makes good onigiri!"
Keiji giggles, feeling warmth spread in her chest. "Is that so? Would you tell me more about Samu-samu?"
"Most of the kids here like Tsumu-tsumu more, but I like Samu-samu better. He's quiet, just like me." It's really endearing how Hitoka gets so excited when talking about Osamu. Keiji supposes it's another thing they have in common.
"Do you play with Samu-samu a lot, Hitoka-chan?"
Hitoka shakes her head no. "When the other kids are playing ball with Tsumu-Tsumu, I help Samu-samu prepare food for them."
"Is Samu-samu kind to you?" Keiji's having fun with this topic. Maybe she can squeeze out all sorts of information from Hitoka.
"Very! He gives me candy and he doesn't force me to play with the others if I don't feel like it. He isn't scary like the other adults and he protects me from the other boys when they get too rowdy. He helped me with my homework one time and he's very smart. He is very funny and I like his jokes! He's also very handsome," she says all in one breath. It almost seems like a sales pitch with how fervently she's promoting Osamu. It's adorable.
"He sounds like a wonderful guy, Hitoka-chan. I wonder if he'd like me too," Keiji ponders aloud, even though she already knows the answer to that question.
Hitoka pauses and thinks for a bit, then her brows scrunch together. A troubled look settles on her face and for a quick second, Keiji worries that she might not have Hitoka's approval after all.
"Tsumu-tsumu said Samu-samu likes someone named Akaashi. But I like Onee-san better. You should be the one Samu-samu likes. You two are both nice people, so that means you two will be perfect for each other!"
It only dawns on her then that she never actually introduced herself to Hitoka. Keiji's lips quiver and her face bursts into flames. Oh, Hitoka is just so precious; she wants to keep her inside her breast pocket and carry her around everywhere she goes.
"Oh goodness, Hitoka! I was wondering where you've gone!" A stern-sounding woman suddenly makes her way towards them. Her beautiful face is wrung with worry, but she doesn't seem to be mad.
"Sorry, Okaa-san. I…" Hitoka struggles to come up with an excuse, so Keiji comes to the rescue.
"Sorry, Ma'am. Hitoka-chan needed to find a restroom, but you seemed to be in an important phone call, so I helped her. I was just keeping her company until you finished," Keiji tries to say as politely as possible, but she worries that she might've sounded a tad bit passive aggressive. Perhaps she feels pity for Hitoka, but it's never good to be rude to adults right off the bat.
Hitoka's mother lets out a weary sigh that betrays how tired she is. Keiji feels bad; she's right in that zone between adult and child that makes her sympathize with both of them.
"Thank you for helping my daughter. What do you want, kid? I'll give it as long as it's within my capabilities."
Not expecting to receive such a generous offer, Keiji shakes her head in a panic. She sets Hitoka down and bows slightly, saying, "No need, Ma'am. Hitoka-chan is such a sweet child. It really was no trouble at all!"
Hitoka's mother looks down at Hitoka with a soft expression and pats her head. "Yes. This child of mine acts so mature for her age. I really should spend more time with her."
Hitoka timidly walks back to her mother and presses herself against her side. She reaches up and takes her mother's hand, reverting back to her quiet self. Despite their less than ideal relationship, it's evident how much they love each other.
"What's your name, kid? I got to remember the people I owe."
"I'm Akaashi Keiji. Really, Ma'am, you don't have to," Keiji humbly declines. As she does so, she catches the way Hitoka's eyes widen and her lips form a silent gasp. Keiji sends her a mischievous smile and giggles to herself. Maybe in Hitoka's young mind, she's a cool sly lady that's totally awesome--at least, she hopes so.
"Akaashi Keiji, huh. I'll remember that. You better go now, kid. The sun will rise soon. Your boyfriend's been waiting for you for quite a while now."
"B-boyfriend?" Keiji sputters. Hitoka's mother nods her head to whoever's behind her, and when she turns, she's met with Osamu's face, dashing and handsome even without any effort whatsoever. His cheeks are flushed with the chill of January, and his hands are tucked into the warm pockets of his jacket. It's so ordinary--but that is the very thing that knocks the wind out of Keiji's lungs. Osamu's simply there , waiting for her.
"'bout time I got a hold of ya," Osamu complains immediately after getting her attention. How very like him.
"How long have you been waiting there?" Keiji questions, straight to the point. She might have acted a little too smitten for Osamu back there--she's starting to reevaluate everything that came out of her mouth for damage control. She might like Osamu, but it's not like she wants his head to grow big over that!
"Hm. Long enough to know we have Hitoka-chan's blessing," Osamu says with a teasing grin. "That was quite sly of ya, Akaashi."
"Stop it," Keiji huffs, but there's no bite to it. She glances back behind her and sees Hitoka bundled up in her mother's arms. Her gloves are still around Hitoka's tiny hands, so adorably oversized that she doesn't have the heart to take it back.
"Cold?" Osamu asks. He seems to know just what Keiji is thinking about.
"I'm fine," she says automatically out of reflex; then she starts berating herself for saying that because that was totally an opportunity to huddle up against Osamu, wasn't it?
Osamu just hums wordlessly, then stares off into the gently brightening horizon. The sun will rise soon.
"Uh," Osamu mumbles. Keiji can tell he's struggling to say something. His cheeks are flushed and he's sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. He's shifting from one foot to the other, painting a perfect picture of nervousness. With how jittery he's being, even Keiji's starting to get second hand anxiety.
"I know it was Obaachan who invited you and Yukie-san, but thanks for comin'," he says awkwardly. Keiji knows him enough to know that's not all that he wants to say.
"Of course. I…I'm really glad I get to start the year like this, with a new tradition. It really feels like I've changed as a person," Keiji muses softly. She subtly shifts closer to Osamu. It is cold, after all.
"Tradition?"
"Oh," Keiji blushes. "Assuming I'll still be invited next year…"
Osamu looks at her with an unreadable expression, then he shifts his weight again, which tilts his body away from Keiji.
"Yer always gonna be welcome here, 'Kaashi. It just sucks that I probably won't be here to watch the sunrise with you next year."
Keiji's heart crumples. How did she not realize that? Osamu will be missing her too.
"...I'm glad I'm spending this one with you," Keiji confesses, so soft that it's almost inaudible.
"Yeah," comes Osamu's weak reply.
Then, as if sensing the somber mood, the first rays of orange peek through the trees in the horizon. Keiji's heart jumps at its beauty; it's such a mundane thing--the sun rises every morning. This isn't the first nor the last time it'll peek through those trees; what makes this so special then? What makes this particular sunrise so hauntingly gorgeous?
A warm hand gently wraps around her cold one.
"This is the first time I'm holdin' a girl's hand during the first sunrise," Osamu says dumbly. Keiji is both so baffled and endeared that she snorts.
"You gave me a lot of firsts too, Osamu-kun," she whispers. "You're the first guy to watch the sunrise with me."
"I hope I get have all yer lasts too, then," Osamu mumbles, and it's said with such shyness and sincerity that it's odd to hear from his mouth. Keiji's heart can't take this--it's too sweet, too surreal.
"Gosh, Osamu-kun; you have to calm down with sudden declarations like that. I feel like my knees will give out." Keiji pats her hot cheeks with her available hand. She ignores the quiver in her voice. What is she so nervous for? It's just Osamu.
"I'll catch ya."
" Stop," Keiji whines, yanking Osamu's hand.
"Oh? Do I make yer heart flutter, 'Kaashi?" Osamu has the gall to lean in close to Keiji's face with a shit-eating grin, but she's fully aware that if she retaliates, Osamu wouldn't be able to handle it either.
"Yes. You do," Keiji states, standing her ground and not backing away. She stares at Osamu's gray eyes despite the hammering of her heart. Her legs are wobbling. It's a stupid staring contest, but she's not going to lose!
"A-ah. I surrender. I surrender, Akaashi. Stop," Osamu stammers, face flushed and hands clammy in hers. So pathetic. What a loser. Gosh, he's so cute.
Silence dawns over them once more. They bask in the light together, feeling just a tad bit stronger in spirit and weaker in the knees, but all the more complete. Indeed, Keiji realizes, it is always better to be with someone. And it is infinitely better that that someone is Osamu. She has received so many blessings this year, one primarily being pulled out of passivity and catapulted towards the pursuit of a promising future. She's gained many friends and has learned many things. She's immensely grateful; for the people she's met, for the people who've always been there, and for the new people she'll meet because of them. This is something she can never truly experience just from reading books or staying inside her comfort zone. She's glad she did it. She's glad she took the opportunity to dip her toes in the water. She's glad that she got to see how fun and fulfilling it is to swim, to struggle a little, and to persevere, knowing she has people behind her who won't let her drown.
"I feel as though I'm starting the year as a wholly different person. That's a good thing, right?" Keiji asks, eyes trained on the slowly rising sun. Her bones are starting to warm up once more.
"I guess we've grown a little, huh?" Osamu replies, squeezing her hand gently. Keiji responds in turn.
"Let's do our best this year, too."
…
Once the sun has marvelously risen above the line of trees in the distance, Keiji reluctantly parts with Osamu so that he can prepare to pound mochi with Atsumu. Apparently, the twins’ mochi pounding is a much anticipated event for the farm, friends and families. Keiji supposes they get a kick from watching lookalikes be so in sync; as for the other spectators--young girls that range from elementary to college age--they're probably here to watch two handsome boys break sweat and show off their strength. Keiji supposes she can't blame them, but there's a petty part of her that wants to haughtily stick her nose up over the fact that one of those handsome boys is smitten with her.
It's a pretty funny event, actually. The people have gathered around in a wide circle to watch the brothers wet their usu and mallets. All the while, despite Keiji being right in the front row and despite Osamu being fully aware of where she is, he refuses to make eye contact with her, looking everywhere except where she is. It's kind of adorable.
Shin-chan dumps copious amounts of steaming rice into the usu , and the crowd collectively goes " Aaah" at the white steam that rises into the new year air. Atsumu takes his mallet and presses into the rice, mushing it gently before they get to the exciting must-see pounding.
"Ready, Samu?" Atsumu asks energetically, effectively getting the crowd going. He's a natural hypeman whereas his brother is just kind of there, nodding lethargically. Keiji fights a smile; the twins have such blatant differences and an interesting dynamic that it makes it fun to watch them work on something together.
Atsumu hits first, exclaiming a powerful yell as he does so. Osamu promptly follows in rhythm, and soon, the rice has lost its grainy texture and has become a solid, sticky mass. The people around sing their "ooh's" and "aah's". Yukie, who is standing beside Keiji, laughs in delight. She leans over saying, "Hey, your boyfriend is quite cool, isn't he?"
Keiji's heart flutters. It's quite weird to feel this happy when she isn't even the one being complimented, but she feels nothing short of proud every time she watches Osamu make food. He's always going to be cool in her eyes, but she's glad other people recognize it too.
The twins stop their pounding and Osamu hands his mallet to Shin-chan. The crowd murmurs excitedly once more at the change of pace; Osamu's crouching by the usu now, and Atsumu's adjusting his grip on the wooden handle. Then with a commandeering yell, Osamu hooks his hand and folds the mochi in one snappy motion. Atsumu immediately brings the mallet down with a cry of his own, and for a second, Keiji's gripped with fear for Osamu's hand. It dissipates just as fast as it came though when the twins continue to operate like an automated machine. From the corner of her eye, Keiji sees Yukie filming the whole thing on her phone (she'd have to ask for a copy of that later), but for the most part, she's entranced by the way Osamu looks.
It's so obvious in his face that he loves what he's doing. He's done this so many times before that he folds and tosses the mochi with ease and confidence. His hands have been honed with determination and patience. Osamu is just so so cool. That unshakeable pressure of not measuring up to that returns and nags at her once more. It's disheartening to be feeling this way; it's the new year--she should be heading towards her goal, not getting hung up over the fact that Osamu's doing better than her. She's supposed to be a new person--more mature, wiser, more dignified--but all she's being is a brat again. Keiji shakes her head to rid herself of these toxic thoughts that tarnish her mind. Osamu doesn't deserve to be treated this way.
After a little more grunting and pounding, the mochi is ready to be shaped and coated in almond flour. Atsumu and Osamu leave to wash their hands while Shin-chan gets the materials to finish the mochi. In that moment of lull, Keiji gets swept away by the waves of the thoughts that persevere despite her efforts to dispel them. So lost is she that Kita-obaachan notices, and so the old lady sneaks up on her and taps a light hand on her shoulder.
“If ya would, Keiji-kun, come help me out with something,” she says sweetly, but Keiji knows something amazingly profound is going to come from her lips again and it will change her life forever. So she follows without protest; Keiji trusts Kita-obaachan with every inch of her being.
Kita-obaachan leads her to one of the bigger buildings in the farm. Heat welcomes her the moment Kita-obaachan opens the door. From the doorway, she can see the homely furnishing of a living room, with a worn-out leather couch and a woven seat that has paint chipping off of it. The curtains are loudly patterned and drawn open to let natural light in. Although the furniture is old and the floorboards creak, at the far end of the wall is a large flat screen TV, the sole relatively new thing in the otherwise aged house. It’s amazing--everything is so mismatched and uncoordinated, but they all seem to find their place.
“Fascinated, Keiji-kun? Does my humble abode befuddle ya?”
Keiji shakes her head, already imagining a little Shin-chan playing with the twins in this very living room. “Not at all, Obaachan. It feels very cozy.”
“Follow me into the kitchen, dear. Let’s cook something to warm us up.”
Kita-obaachan gives her the simplest, most fool-proof tasks possible. She probably heard from Osamu how hopeless she is in the kitchen, so she just makes her shape pre-sliced carrots into flowers to minimize the risk of accidents as much as possible.
"How have you been enjoying the new year so far?" Kita-obaachan asks. Keiji mentally prepares herself for another heart to heart.
"I'm glad I came here. This kind of thing isn't something I can just read about in a book," Keiji answers earnestly. "I would really love to return next year."
"I won't invite ya anymore then. I'll be expecting ya here by default," Kita-obaachan says as she turns the fire on under a pot that had been presumably soaking kombu for a while. Most of her ingredients have already been prepared and ready for cooking, so there's really not much for Keiji to do.
Keiji giggles and steps back from the kitchen counter now that her tasks are complete. "Thank you, Obaachan."
"Say, Keiji-kun, have ya had ozoni for New Year's before?"
Keiji hums in thought. "When my grandfather was alive, he used to make ozoni for us. Then when I was still living in Tokyo, my parents would order osechi ryori from a restaurant and we'd eat that. I haven't had it in a while, though, now that it's only Yukie and me."
“Lucky for ya, yer gonna be eatin’ ozoni for the rest of yer New Years. If not made by me, then surely by Osamu.”
Keiji blushes. She hasn’t thought that far into the future. To spend the rest of her years with Osamu…now that’d be something.
“Here in Kansai, we use round mochi and sweet white miso, which might be different from what yer used to, but this year, I’d like you to decide how we make our ozoni, ” Kita-obaachan says, stirring the pot of kombu stock. “Anything you’d like, dear, even if it’s not traditional.”
Keiji is stunned--she didn’t expect Kita-obaachan to trust her with cooking, much less trust her with the recipe. It’s a little overwhelming; suddenly making ozoni is a responsibility.
“Will everyone be eating what we make?” Keiji asks worriedly. She doesn’t think her own tastes would satisfy everyone. What if she makes something so vile--or something so culturally offensive that they ban her from the farm forever?
"Well of course," Kita-obaachan says with a no-nonsense lilt. "If yer worried about makin' something bad, there was one year where Atsumu put heaps of hot peppers in the soup. Whatever you make can't possibly be any worse than that."
"That is oddly comforting," Keiji muses with a giggle. "I will try my best, then."
"Have more faith in yerself, dear. You can do this."
Keiji picks a sweet white miso base for the soup and asks to add chicken to the broth. She follows the usual daikon and carrots, but opts out of satoimo because she doesn't like its texture. She puts in fish cakes--a lot, because she loves to eat them in soup. She also adds shiitake and komatsuna because she knows Yukie likes mushrooms. She toasts the round mochi that Shin-chan had made last weekend until it bursts open, and with that, all that's left to do is to portion the ozoni into the pretty plastic bowls and serve it to the customers--no, rather, her new family.
"This is a little nerve wracking," Keiji shakily comments as she slowly walks with a tray full of ozoni bowls. She's used to carrying hot liquids on a tray by now, but the unlevel terrain and the prospect of being scrutinized over her choices of ingredients are a little terrifying. But, she notices, despite how nervous she is, she isn't keeling over in anxiety like she would've months ago. Instead, a faint excitement is simmering beneath her skin. She dares to consider something she's never been bold enough to: what if it tastes good?
The people have settled into a connected network of tables each different from the others. There are plastic foldable tables and rickety wooden ones that wobble a little so Shin-chan has to insert a flat stone under one of the legs. There are benches, stools and crates as makeshift seats, all to accommodate everybody. The place is lively with talking and laughing despite the frigid air and the early hour. Keiji's heart jumps a little; she's glad she and Yukie can celebrate the new year in such a festive mood.
"The ozoni is here!" One of the children shrieks, and immediately, all attention is on Keiji and Kita-obaachan. The old lady handles the expectant gazes with grace and a smile, whereas Keiji struggles to make eye contact. And because she refuses to look anywhere besides the soup and the ground, she doesn't notice that the twins have come forward to take the trays from them.
"I'll take it from here," Osamu says softly, bearing the weight of the tray with one of his palms and supporting it with his other hand. Keiji would have been jolted, but she's surprisingly calmed by his presence. She successfully transfers the tray onto Osamu's hands without any spillage, and she's grateful that the people's eyes are now on the twins and no longer on her.
"Keiji-kun here helped me make this year's ozoni ," Kita-obaachan starts and immediately, the chatter dies down so that they could listen. Keiji is mortified ; so much for no longer being the center of attention. She can see Kurenai-san eagerly looking at her with this twinkle in her eyes. Keiji feels a little unworthy to be the recipient of such a stare, so she ducks, hiding her face under her hair.
“Keiji-kun is my new helper in the shop. She first came to us as a customer--oh, dear me, I seem to have forgotten; she first came to the shop by following a stray cat that led her all the way there. She didn’t even like tea!”
The audience chuckles at Kita-obaachan’s story, and Keiji’s face must be so red to the point that it’s noticeable from a mile away. A hand pats her back, and when she turns, she sees Shin-chan smiling at her, seemingly innocent, but she detects a teasing undertone.
“When I first met Keiji, she was awfully shy. She was very awkward and always so nervous. She doesn’t do well with crowds, you see--so if yer plannin’ on talking to her later, be calm and don’t scare her off, alright? Otherwise, Juichi will have yer neck; he fancies her quite a lot, but I’m sure y’all know that already.”
“Oh my god,” Keiji says in embarrassment as the people hoot and burst in teasing laughter. Keiji looks over at Osamu and sees him caught in a headlock by Daishi-san and getting mercilessly elbowed by Atsumu. They meet eyes for a split second, but somehow, by the forces of nosiness and curiosity and the love for gossip and hotblooded teenage drama, each one of them catches onto it and starts cooing the way middle school children do.
“Keiji-kun is such a sweet girl, and she’s always so eager to become a better person, and to try and get out of her shell more. Look at her now--she’s still shy, yes, but she came out here to the farm to celebrate with us, most of whom she hasn’t even met yet. She had so many reservations about cooking for everyone, but she still tried her best. Keiji-kun is constantly trying and she is constantly growing. I’m quite proud of the person she’s become.”
Keiji’s chest tightens up. Her face is starting to contort into an ugly pout against her will, so she bites her lip to contain it, but it’s no use. Tears are already pooling in her eyes, and she’s helpless to stop it. The people are looking at her fondly, but she doesn’t want them to see her cry at their first meeting! But how could she not get choked up over Kita-obaachan’s words? Kita-obaachan who she has always looked up to; Kita-obaachan who has watched her struggle all this time. She’s proud of her. Someone amazing like that is proud of her.
"As you all know, ozoni is such a wonderfully unique food. It differs from each region in Japan, and even with those regions, the taste differs in each household. Keiji-kun used to live in Tokyo, so her ozoni is a mix of our style and the taste she grew up on. Today, she made for us ozoni that can only be made by her. And so, by eatin’ the food Keiji-kun has made, we welcome her as a new member of our family.”
“Welcome, Keiji!” Her new family choruses, and it’s the most warm Keiji has felt the entire winter. She bows at them, finally letting a few tears drop to the ground, and she is greeted with lively applause. Then, she hears the slurping and chewing begin. Her heart thunders in anticipation and dread, but to her relief, the people seem to enjoy it. The kids eat it with gusto, but they give their vegetables to their parents, munching instead on the fish cake and chewy mochi. The older folks eat more slowly, but they all seem to have satisfied looks on their faces. Then there’s people like Osamu, Atsumu and Yukie who wolf everything down and ask for seconds. Seeing the people she cares for all gathered eating something she made makes her feel so full even without eating a portion of her own. She suddenly understands why Osamu loves cooking so much. To always be feeling this way must be worth the effort to become a great chef.
She fishes her phone from her coat pocket and calls up Rintarou who’s spending their New Year’s in Tokyo with their extended family. She makes a mental note to invite them here next year. Maybe they can make the ozoni next year too.
“Hey, Keiji. Happy New Year,” Rintarou answers with a lumbering tone. Knowing them, their family must’ve partied all night and are now only settling into their beds. Nevermind all that though. Keiji has important news to deliver.
“Happy New Year, Rin. I…I think I’ve found somewhere to belong.”