Chapter Text
“Ingredients, check. Stovetop ready, check. Aprons, check…” You listen to Thoma mumbling the ingredients, double and triple counting as he tapped his foot. You fumble with your apron, hands flailing to get the strings knotted in the back. Although cursing out a strip of fabric rarely does anyone good, you find yourself doing just that as Thoma sets up the pots and pans.
One particular “Shit!” catches his attention. Thoma pauses, looking at you as you struggle. “Need help?” He asks, and you can’t help but notice a terribly concealed smirk on his face. Yet before you can even answer, Thoma comes up behind you, gently taking the ties from your hands. With a light pull and the speed of a veteran chef, you find yourself with a perfect bow on your back.
“Alrighty, let’s get cooking! Since we’re starting off easier with miso soup, you’re going to make the dashi stock first. So you’re going to take the kombu and dried bonito flakes,” he points out each ingredient on the counter, almost picking up the flakes out of habit, “and you’re going to steep it in water so that it absorbs the flavor.” Thoma guides you with measuring out the right amount of kombu.
“Now you’re going to bring it to a low simmer over medium heat, and once it gets hot, you’re going to add the bonito flakes.” Thoma watches carefully, ensuring you don’t get your hands too close to the hot rim of the pot. After a few minutes pass, he instructs you to remove the pan from the stove and stir in the bonito flakes. It only takes you a few seconds to decide that ‘easy’ was an understatement. Happily pouring in a rather generous amount of bonito flakes makes you almost oblivious to the worrywart behind you. Thoma is constantly looking over your shoulder as though you or the stove will burst into flames from shaking too many flakes in.
“You’ll let the broth stand for about five minutes to absorb more of the flavor, and then we’ll pour it through a strainer to get the kombu and bonito flakes out.” You do as he says, with him watching carefully over your shoulder. He’s clearly trying to stop himself from micromanaging your cooking as you grab the strainer, jerking his hand back when he finds himself reaching for the handle of the pot or the measuring cup. He even winces as you strain the broth into the next pot. You find yourself holding back a laugh at his behavior, the corners of your mouth barely able to conceal your amusement.
He suddenly places his hands firmly on your shoulders, startling you a bit. You tense up, looking back at him. Thoma gives a small, clearly nervous smile, allowing for you to relax underneath his grasp after realizing he’s probably trying to stop himself from doing all of the cooking for you. “Now you’re gonna take a scoop of the dashi stock in that big ladle, and your spoonful of miso paste, and you’re going to dissolve the miso paste in the ladle by stirring it in. This way, you don’t have any clumps of the miso paste in the soup. And then you’ll add the tofu, scallions, and wakame once the miso paste is dissolved.”
You nod, grabbing the miso paste and opening it. You’re about to dip the spoon into the container, but suddenly, you hear an agitating, grating voice from across the courtyard. “Wow, look at Thoma, spending all his time flirting around. We have guys like that to thank for the decline of the samurai spirit. What good is it doing for the clan having him just shmoozing around with random strangers.”
Oh Archons, it's those stupid meatheads again , you think to yourself, annoyance creeping up on you as you put the miso paste down.
“Look what we got here, must be nice getting to fool around all day while we do all the heavy labor,” Meathead One scolds, crossing his arms. His hard-headed accomplice following behind him. Your expression immediately sours, if looks could kill, Bantan Sango Detective agency would’ve been after you by now.
Through a thinly veiled snicker, Meatheat Two adds, “Ha! Get a load of this guy.” He points at Thoma, his laugh reminiscent of a one star clown. The courtyard goes quiet, minus a few awkward giggles from Meathead Two. Finally, as if Meathead One came to his senses, he jabs Meathead Two in the arm, silencing him.
“Yeah but anyway, have fun with your little…class,” Meathead One scoffs before they both march off – something about their body language was giving off an air of bitterness. Your glare follows them as they walk away.
Thoma simply shrugs, tutting as if he were referring to a couple of kids. “Hey, what’s with that face? Don’t let those two bother you too much.” He smiles at you, patting your shoulder. “Like I said, they aren't worth getting upset over. So, dip the ladle into the water with the miso in-”
“That was way too far, are you actually going to let them talk to you like that?” You say, crossing your arms in front of you. You give Thoma a disapproving look. “Shouldn’t someone tell them off?”
“Like I said before, I don’t really mind, and if it helps them let off some steam, it's no skin off my nose. No harm done,” Thoma replies, though his attempt to reassure go in vain.
But grandma didn’t raise no bitch.
“It’s gonna harm my fist when it connects to their faces.”
“Oh!” Thoma raises his hands, looking taken aback as he scrambles to calm you. “Look, as honored as I am that you’d be willing to defend me, please don’t. It’s not worth getting in trouble with the Yashiro commission…please?”
“But they can’t just say things like that!” you protest, getting a bit heated. Thoma silently takes the ladle out of your hands, taking over.
“Oh, come now, how about we put that energy into something more productive. You must be hungry by now, right?” He asks, gesturing to the still boiling pot. Right, you almost forgot about the task at hand. “Let’s focus on the class, alright?”
With a small huff, you comply, taking the ladle and getting to work again. You stir in the miso, the spoon clinking against the ladle with excess force as you think about those idiot guards and their stupid meathead comments. “Fucking jackasses” you mumble under your breath.
Oh no, she’s pissed, Thoma thinks to himself, watching the soup spoons harshly clink together in your grasp as you mumble about how much you hate the guards. He feels oddly touched by your behavior, as you clearly view him in a good light, but doubts it would be a good idea to allow you to stew in your anger any longer.
“I think this miso soup stuff might be a bit too easy for you,” he says, clearing his throat. “How about we try something else before we end our class today?”
Hopefully that’ll clear her head a bit.
You give him a concerned look, thankfully somewhat distracted from your vengeful train of thought. “Huh? Like what?”
“Like…” Thoma pauses, contemplating. He has to think this through, finding something hard enough to make you feel better, but nothing too strenuous for a beginner. “Onigiri?”
You pause, tilting your head a bit, and Thoma couldn’t help but find that endearing. “Yeah, I think I can handle that,” you answer, a noticeable amount of frustration leaving your face as you ease up on the pot abuse.
Is she really that easily distracted? Thoma thinks to himself, though he can’t help but smile at the thought.
“Oh, Thoma, it's all dissolved, now!” You say, the excitement in your voice snapping him out of his thoughts. Thoma looks down, and sure enough, that’s one more step done.
Reaching over to the makeshift table, Thoma grabs some tofu, seagrass, and a couple green onion stems before setting them onto the cooking station.
“Last step, I’m going to need you to cut these green onions up into small rings, then this block of tofu will be cut into squares, and you can just cut this seagrass whichever way you like.” Thoma says, before hurrying off to grab the ingredients to make onigiri.
He grabs some rice, tuna, spicy mustard, rice vinegar, salt, soy sauce, and a few more bowls, strategically stacking everything to be easily carried. He takes it back to the courtyard, hoping to the gods that you didn’t try to pick a fight with the guards in the forty-five seconds he was gone. Lucky for him, he finds you chopping the ingredients as told.
Thoma guides you on how to cook the rice and make the tuna filling, and once the rice is cooked and is sitting on the counter to cool, he decides now would be the best time to eat your long awaited miso soup. He prepares place mats and silverware for the two of you, sitting down at the kotatsu with you.
“There we are, let’s give it a try, then.” Thoma says, picking up his spoon.
He smiles as you take a big sip of the miso soup and let out an excited hum of approval. You rush to swallow before you speak. “Wait, this is actually really good!” Surprise is clear on your face.
Thoma takes a sip of the soup for himself, before nodding in agreement. “You did great!” he encourages. Though what satisfies him far more than the miso soup is seeing the expression of elation on your face.
“You think so?” you ask, though it comes out as more of an ego boost than a question. “Well, I think it’s because I have a good teacher, huh?” You wink at him.
Laughing, Thoma shakes his head, “Come on now, don’t get a big head. But yeah, you’re doing good so far.” He takes a few more sips, smiling as he watches you happily eat your food. It doesn’t take long for the two of you to get to the bottom of your bowls.
With a satisfied sigh, Thoma stands, “Alright, you ready to get back to work?” He cracks his knuckles, stretching his back a bit to adjust from sitting too long.
He saw your face change to a slight frown. Was it because you were getting tired of working, or were you nervous about making them? “It’ll be easy,” he decides to add, “Besides, I’ll talk through it.”
He sees your face brighten up again, “I'll be fine with you there,” you say, getting up. You both head over to the cooking station again, and Thoma gets the sense that you’re a little more comfortable as you uncover the rice.
“Now that the rice is cool, you’re going to wet your hands and take a small pinch of salt.” He demonstrates what you’re supposed to do, feeling your gaze on him with rapt attention. “And rub that between your hands to create a barrier between your skin and the rice so that it doesn’t stick. Next, you take a spoonful or two of rice and flatten it out into a rough triangle shape, before taking a spoonful of the filling and placing it in the middle.
“Then, you take another spoonful or two of rice to cover up the filling, and then squeeze it into a triangle shape.” Once the onigiri in his hands is in a proper triangle shape, he holds it out to show you. “And you take a piece of the seagrass and wrap it up!” Thoma confidently places the completed onigiri onto a plate.
He looks at you expectantly, before gesturing for you to try. Thoma watches you fumble with the rice, a small smile appearing on his face. He leans against the counter, forgetting to direct you or give any input as he takes in your concentrated expression. Cute… he thinks, before shaking his head as though it would clear the thought.
You hold out your hands, showing a rather broken and square-looking onigiri. “I think I messed up somewhere.”
Thoma can’t hold back the laugh that bursts out. “Ok, ok, I think I can point out where you went wrong.” He stands in front of you, hands cupping yours. “You added the right amount of rice and filling, you just need to adjust your grip, I think!”
He attempts to use his hands to guide yours to mold the rice together, but the angle is too difficult. Grains of rice spill from between your hands, falling onto the makeshift counter as you give him an awkward smile. The endearing behavior causes Thoma to chuckle a little. “Alright, this isn’t exactly working. Um… Let’s try…”
Thoma moves to stand behind you, pausing for a moment, “May I?” he asks, gesturing to your hands. He was partially relieved when you nodded, reaching his arms over yours to place your hands in his. “Let’s try this instead.”
He cups your hands in his, guiding them to smush the onigiri mess together. His hands follow his own muscle memory at this angle, making it much easier. However, he can’t help but notice just how close together you are, with your back almost flush to his chest and his arms reaching around you. Of course, it’s for the class, he tells himself, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s not usually one to get shy over something like this. Ok. This is not awkward. This is professional. I am simply helping my student, he tells himself, taking in a deep breath. Besides, sticky rice all over their hands? There was nothing weird about it.
“You need to cup your hands like this,” he instructs, grasping your hands gently but firmly, and folding his fingers over yours to pack the rice together. He repeats the motion over and over again, moving ever-so-slightly closer to you for leverage.
Thoma’s hands don’t leave yours until the onigiri is shaped into perfection.
He exhales, removing his hands from yours and taking a miniscule step back. “Great job!” he replies, a little breathless, in response to your questioning gaze.
You marvel at your perfectly shaped onigiri, holding it up in awe. “I did it!”
“You might want to wrap it in seagrass before it falls apart, though. Just to make sure,” Thoma adds. He smiles fondly to himself as you hurry to grab the sheet of seagrass, mumbling, “oh right, right,” happy about your success.
He looks on a little less proactively now, watching as you repeat the hand motion again and again to form more onigiri. Wow, teaching someone how to cook feels so rewarding. And this went way better than it did with Ayato and Ayaka. Thoma remembers how it went when he attempted to teach the siblings how to make miso soup, and he shivers recalling how many hours it took to scrub the burnt mess off of the bottom of the pot. He shakes his head, trying to clear the thought, and refocuses to see you presenting a plate of onigiri to him.
“Look!” you say, and he does. The other onigiri are not as uniform as the one that he helped you with, but they still stay together.
“You did great!” Thoma celebrates. “And, of course, you'll get even better with more practice. But for now, let’s eat!”
You both begin your walk back to your Ritou residence with full stomachs, satisfied thanks to your labor.
“Good evening, guys!” Thoma waves to the samurai at the entrance of the Kamisato Estate.
“Yeah, you have a good night,” one of the samurai sneers. The other starts to mumble something almost unintelligible about Thoma getting off too early, before his jaw shuts with a click .
The samurai are completely silent as the two of you walk out of earshot and begin on the path through Chinju Forest.
“I wonder what they were so silent for back there,” Thoma jibes, eyeing you knowingly.
“Must’ve eaten something bad,” you lightly offer, shrugging as you walk with a skip in your step.
“Y’know, I really thought you were gonna start swinging on them earlier today,” Thoma starts, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. He takes a couple quick steps to keep pace with you.
“But I didn't,” you point out, looking at him coyly.
“It’s… sweet of you,” Thoma comments at last. He doesn't wish to enable you, though, no matter how much his heart is warmed by it. If he’s being honest, he’s a little scared about what would happen if he did. “But be nice ,” he scolds.
You clasp your hands together, looking up at him to promise, “I’ll try my hardest.”