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Lounging on the couch in comfy pajamas with a bowl of strawberry ice cream, binging an old, classic romantic comedy show. What could be better on a Friday night?
As far as Shuu was concerned, not much.
“You know that you’re too good for him, honey. Don’t do it,” he chastised the woman on the screen, even though he knew that these romantic will-they-won’t-they shenanigans would last the entire season. He rolled his eyes as she and the man embraced, and slid a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth.
His phone rang just then, prompting him to sit up. He put his bowl on the coffee table, quickly swallowing the ice cream so that he could speak, and picked up his phone. As soon as he saw the name, he smiled. Hitori.
That was a pretty good way to make a Friday night better.
He grabbed the remote and paused the TV with one hand while he accepted the call and placed his phone to his ear with the other, then laid back into his lounging position. “Hi Hitori,” he said, voice warm with affection. “What’s going on?”
“Not much.” Hitori sounded similarly comfortable. “I was just wondering what to do tomorrow, and I had the thought that maybe you’d like to come over for dinner?”
“Of course I would.” He didn’t even have to think of it. He was always up for spending time with his friends, and on top of that, it was impossible to say no to Hitori’s cooking. Besides, if Shuu was being honest, it had probably been just a little too long since he’d last had a proper meal.
“Great! Maybe six thirty? I was thinking of making fried rice vermicelli, and probably candied sweet potato too.”
“That sounds good.” An idea suddenly sprang into Shuu’s mind, and he sat up, twisting around to look at his kitchen. “Oh! I could make something to bring.” He hadn’t cooked in a while, which was unfortunate, because he liked cooking. This was a good excuse.
“If you’d like!” Hitori said. “You should make a dessert. You always make the best desserts.”
“Aww, thank you.” Shuu felt himself blush at the compliment, and wondered what he could make. It really wasn’t worth considering what he had already - he always had so little in his kitchen that he knew he’d have to make a trip to the grocery store no matter what. “Um, how about-”
“Don’t tell me,” Hitori cut him off gently. “I want it to be a surprise. I’m sure it will be good.”
Shuu smiled again. “I won’t let you down.”
“I know you won’t. See you tomorrow.”
“See you.” Shuu felt as light as a feather as he hung up. He couldn’t wait.
Saturday, and first on Shuu’s agenda was a trip to the store. He already knew what he wanted to make, so he knew exactly what he needed to get. He wanted to get an early start to be sure he was finished preparing his dish in time to bring it to Hitori’s.
As he walked down the street, he noticed a tractor trailer truck lumbering slowly down the street. Bigger than usual, too.
It had big, heavy wheels. The space under the trailer was quite large, too.
I could very easily throw myself underneath. I’d be dead almost instantly. What a mess it would make, though.
Shuu’s stride didn’t break, but his legs suddenly felt stiff.
The truck went by.
He kept walking.
What an awfully morbid thought… He took a deep breath and tried to mentally brush it off. He had work to do.
He didn’t take long in the store. He needed only three things for his dessert: heavy cream, white chocolate, and matcha powder. But while he was there, he figured he ought to grab some vegetables and other kitchen essentials.
Who knew when he was going to get around to cooking himself a proper meal, but he might as well have something ready just in case. He really needed to fix his dietary habits… but now wasn’t the time. He could only carry so much back with him, anyway. He’d make another trip sometime in the next few days to get some more real food.
Definitely, definitely not instant ramen.
For sure this time.
He stood at the station, waiting for his train home to arrive. It was a little chilly out. Enough to make him wish he had brought a jacket, but not enough to be really discomforting. As he waited on a bench, he comforted himself by admiring the fall scenery, and dreamed of Hitori’s cooking that he would have that evening.
His eyes wandered lazily around his surroundings as he waited. There were two young girls nearby, maybe in high school, holding hands and giggling softly to each other.
Someone passed by walking their dog. The brindle pattern was striking, making Shuu follow it with his eyes until it was almost out of view. He guessed it was a kai ken, maybe. He thought about asking to pet it, but didn’t end up saying anything.
A man in a suit stood near the edge of the platform. He kept taking out his phone, doing something with it, then putting it away, only to take it out again a minute later. Maybe he was nervous about something, or just impatient. Shuu noticed the man’s tapping foot. Yes, probably impatient. He must have somewhere to be.
The man looked to the left, and Shuu followed his gaze. The train’s coming.
He’s standing so close to the edge.
Someone could come up behind him and push him at just the right time, right in front of the train. That’s all it would take.
It’s so simple, even I could do it.
He startled like an alarm had gone off. No, I couldn’t! Not ever!
He stood up from the bench, though his knees were weak and made him hesitate. After a moment, he found the strength to move and get onto the train. He felt as heavy and as clumsy as a bag of rocks by the time he fell into a seat.
The business man sat at the other end of the car, still staring at his phone.
Shuu tried not to look at him, as if the man would be able to see in his gaze that Shuu had thought something awful about him.
Shuu still felt guilty when he got home, even though there was nothing he could do to rectify it. But he did begin to feel better when he went into his kitchen and began taking out his groceries as he thought about visiting Hitori. That’s right, he was going to make them dessert. It was going to be fun.
He put away everything except the three crucial ingredients he needed. It would be simple to make, but it would need a few hours to refrigerate, so he had to start early. He glanced at the time. One in the afternoon. That was plenty.
He lined a fifteen centimeter square pan with plastic wrap and set it aside. In a bowl, he mixed 75 milliliters of heavy cream and a tablespoon of matcha powder together.
The bowl was put over simmering water at low heat on the stove, with about 230 grams of the white chocolate chopped into small pieces added in. He stood there and stirred diligently until the chocolate melted and the entire substance was smooth and uniform.
He poured the mixture into his pan and put it in the fridge. Now he just had to wait for about four hours, so it was time to find a way to occupy himself.
He thought about continuing to read the crime book he was in the middle of. But then he opened it and found he had left off during a gory description of a murder scene, and put it away. He didn’t need to make things worse.
He ate some crackers for lunch. Not a great meal, but he was already cooking something, and didn’t feel like putting anything else together right then.
He multitasked between watching more of his show and texting with Kazuaki about nothing in particular.
He even went for a walk around the block. Fresh air and exercise always did the body well.
When the four hours were up and the chocolate was finished, there wasn’t much left to do. He removed the slab of chocolate from the pan, peeled off the plastic (it was very satisfying, so he took his time), and then it just needed to be divided into pieces.
He took out his knife and started by slicing off the edges so that the whole thing was a uniform thickness. Then it was cut into strips, and then he began cutting those strips into bite-sized squares. Although the chocolate had cooled, it was still just soft enough that he could slide his knife through without the chocolate having to crack.
What if I cut my finger off?
He kept slicing, but he movements slowed and became more deliberate.
It wouldn’t take much effort at all. On accident… or on purpose.
The chopping stopped, and he froze in place and time. His eyes unfocused, and he could see it now: his finger - Which finger? My pinkie, maybe? - gone, blood gushing from the wound on his hand. It would get all over the knife. All over the counter. On the floor too, if I let it.
Thick red liquid oozing over the chocolate like a grisly topping. Maybe it would even taste good.
He put the knife down, and rubbed his hand over his face. Why was he thinking such things? He didn’t want to hurt himself. He put the knife down and stepped out of the kitchen.
He went into the bathroom and splashed water onto his face, hoping it would get some sense into him. He stared at his reflection in the mirror and counted to ten until his breathing steadied and he didn’t feel so lightheaded and out of touch anymore.
It was a little difficult to get back in the kitchen, and he lingered in the doorway for a few seconds, but he still had things to do. He managed to go back in, pick up the knife, and finish cutting the matcha chocolate. The knife was put away.
He used a fine mesh strainer to decorate the squares with more matcha powder, then they went into a tupperware container. Before he put on the lid, he took a square off the top and popped it into his mouth to try.
It was great.
Shuu knocked on Hitori’s door at six thirty sharp, and it only took a moment for Hitori to open it up. “Hi, Shuu! I’m glad you could come. Dinner just finished cooking, so come get settled in.”
“Thank you.” Shuu stepped in and took off his coat and shoes as Hitori went back to the kitchen. “It smells very good in here. I’m so ready to dig in.”
“Us too!” Hitori called. Presumably he was putting the finishing touches on the food and plating it up.
Shuu went into the kitchen to put his container of chocolates on the counter and found Nageki already there. “Hello, Nageki!”
“Hey.” Nageki was sitting at the table, reading while he waited. Shuu recognized the book as being part of a series that he had recommended Nageki, but the young man was such an avid reader that it looked like he was actually a book or two ahead of Shuu. He moved his bookmark and set the book aside. “How has your day been?”
Not good. Brain is acting up more than usual today. “Oh, fine. I’ve mostly just been looking forward to dinner with you two.” He slid into a seat across from Nageki.
Nageki looked past Shuu at the container he brought. “What’d you bring?”
“Matcha chocolate.”
“Ooh!” Hitori, who had just begun setting plates of food down on the table, approached the container. “Can I try one?”
Shuu was quick to turn in his seat and shoo him away. “I expect you to know that you shouldn’t have dessert until after dinner, Hitori!”
Hitori laughed and went back to putting out food. “Fine, fine. But I’m sure you’ve already had one.”
“Of course I did. I made them.”
With dinner served, they didn’t wait any longer to dig in. Shuu hummed with satisfaction at the first bite to show his appreciation. “Hitori, this is sooo good. I wish I could have your cooking every day.”
“I wish you could too,” Hitori said. “I’d get some meat on those bones quick.”
It was no secret that Shuu was skinny as a twig and could probably use the help, but alas, it was not the world they lived in. “I’m sure you would. It’s a nice thought, at least.”
“I’ll just have to take advantage of every opportunity I do have to feed you, won’t I?”
“With cooking this good, I don’t think I can complain.”
They kept eating quietly for a little while. They were more than close enough to be able to just eat and enjoy the food without feeling the need to fill the silence with chitchat. Just enjoying each other’s company was special.
Shuu looked between Nageki and Hitori as he chewed a slice of sweet potato. It was incredibly delicious - he’d have to say so as soon as he finished chewing. In the meantime, he took the opportunity to appreciate having dinner with two of his closest friends instead of alone at home. His relationship with them had changed his life for the better, and he hoped that they knew that.
He looked at Nageki. Helping him recover from his illness was one of the most meaningful things Shuu had done in his life. Affecting someone’s life so positively had been what gotten him hooked on the idea of helping the people around him, and now he saw it as his purpose in life. It was because of Nageki that what was once an aimless, vague existence now seemed filled with new meaning.
And where would he be without Hitori? He was always so kind and supportive. He’d known Shuu since he was still Isa Souma, and he was invaluable in him learning how to function in friendship and a less work-driven life.
He was handsome, too. That was a plus. Shuu was trying not to stare at him as he was eating, though it was difficult. The movement of his jaw was just so intoxicating. The line of his jaw, sloping up into the ramus. The temporalis muscle, fixed to the coronoid process of his mandible, allowing him to grind his teeth. The masseter muscle, the main chewing muscle, originating from the zygomatic arch. One of the strongest muscles in the entire human body. The tongue and soft palate move cyclically in association with jaw movement during food processing. These movements bring air into the nasal cavity through the pharynx, allowing the food’s aroma to reach the nose’s chemoreceptors.
Then after chewing was swallowing. Deglutition. The tongue tip touches the alveolar ridge of the hard palate. Just behind the upper teeth. The area of tongue-palate contact gradually expands backward, squeezing the food along the palate and to the oropharynx.
The soft palate elevates and contacts the lateral and posterior walls of the pharynx, closing the nasopharynx. This prevents the food from regurgitating into the nasal cavity. The base of the tongue contracts, pushing the food against the pharyngeal walls. The pharyngeal constrictor muscles contract, sequentially, from the top to the bottom, squeezing the food downward as if through a tube.
The vocal folds close to seal the glottis to prevent aspiration of the food. The suprahyoid and thyrohyoid muscles contract, pulling the hyoid bone and larynx up and forward, tucking the larynx under the base of the tongue. The epiglottis tilts back, sealing the laryngeal vestibule.
The upper esophageal sphincter opens for the food to enter the esophagus. This opening relies on the relaxation of the cricopharyngeus muscle, the contraction of the suprahyoid and thyrohyoid muscles which pulls the hyolaryngeal complex forward, and the pressure of the descending food.
The esophagus is a tube that connects the upper esophageal sphincter to the lower esophageal sphincter. The lower sphincter, like the upper, is tense at rest to prevent regurgitation. During swallowing, it relaxes and allows passage. The upper third of the esophagus - the cervical esophagus - is mainly striated muscle, but the rest is smooth. The autonomic nervous system regulates the peristalsis wave that brings the food to the stomach, starting with a wave of relaxation to accommodate the food, and then a wave of contraction to propel it.
So many moving parts working without the brain even being aware of it, all to perform the simple act of a swallow in less than a second. Movement in complete harmony, millions of years of practice coming forth in nature showing her mastery over her ability to create.
Muscles, tissue. Ligaments, fibers. Bones, marrow. Veins, blood.
I can see it.
It was like Hitori’s skin was translucent. Shuu could see everything underneath, moving and shifting and working and sliding and pulling and squirming.
Muscles, tissue. Ligaments, fibers. Bones, marrow. Veins, blood.
I can touch it.
If he broke through the skin, destroyed the barrier, he could reach his hand inside and hold it all in his grasp - the muscles, the ligaments, the bones, the veins. The blood. Take the perfect, immaculate machine and halt it.
He can see the blood.
Blood on his chest. Blood on my hands.
I don’t feel well.
He really didn’t. He dragged his eyes away from Hitori, his vision slowed. He only realized then that he had stopped chewing, probably a while ago, and the food in his mouth tasted like ash. There was a chill all throughout his body, and he was distinctly aware of the passage of air through his nose.
He felt something on his wrist. He looked, and saw fingers touching them there. He followed the fingers to their hand, up the arm, and found Nageki’s worried face.
“Shuu, are you okay?” Nageki looked concerned. “You look pale. Are you sick?”
Yes.
I am sick.
He forced himself to swallow the food in his mouth - tongue pharynx esophagus - and put his hand to his head, rubbing his temple. “I… I guess so, yeah,” his voice was hoarse. “I don’t know what’s come over me.”
Hitori had a similar expression to his brother as he put a supportive hand on Shuu’s shoulder. “You can lie down if you want. I know you don’t eat a lot, so maybe it’s because you ate more than usual just now.”
“You’re probably right,” Shuu muttered.
“I wish you would eat better,” Hitori said, and he sounded sick with worry. “I hate seeing you like this.”
I hate seeing you like that. I want to be normal.
“I’m sorry,” Shuu said, because he was sorry.
“It’s okay, Shuu. It’s not your fault.”