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Inside a cozy and tiny kitchen, a ten-year-old boy was busy filling up the rice cooker with water at three in the morning.
If you were to look closely, you could notice him dozing off a little bit too often, his sleepy eyes and the way the water was almost reaching the pot’s limit. But none of that mattered to him. Osamu needed to finish this before dawn came, after all. His little hands did not stop moving.
When he was done with the water, he took a stool to reach a rice bag from the first kitchen shelf —he was only a meter and a half tall, and he couldn’t even see what was on top of it. But he was so exhausted and his short height didn’t match his big efforts yet so, in the blink of an eye, he staggered on the stool and fell on his butt, making him feel an excruciating pain.
Why did their grandma have to put things so far away from their reach? His attempt to make no sound for a whole hour was all for naught! Now his family would scold him for being awake so late.
Suddenly, tears ran down his cheek. He just wanted to give Atsumu a surprise for their birthday! Osamu had heard his twin tell their grandma how he would love to eat fatty tuna for the celebration, and how their granny refused due to her lack of cooking skills. Osamu wanted to laugh at Atsumu’s dejected face that time, but the mere thought of how he wouldn’t get extra puddings anymore made him gulp down his giggles in an instant.
He remembered how tender their mother’s smile is when she prepares their meals in the morning, as if making onigiri and tamagoyaki was the best thing in the world, so he thought he could try it out, too —and, in addition, make his brother happy.
However, there he was: sitting on the cold floor, crying silently while hugging his knees, and the bag of rice that had fallen after him, resting on his head. A pitiful sight, indeed.
“‘Samu?” a sleepy voice asked from across the room.
Osamu jolted back to reality. Atsumu appeared in the kitchen out of nowhere, most likely because he just woke up after all the commotion and decided to see for himself what was going on.
“I was just hungry,” he said with a pout. It was not really a lie, since he was always hungry, but it was not the whole truth either; he just didn’t want to reveal his secret to his twin.
“Really? What were you…?” Before he finished his question, Atsumu glanced around the kitchen. The rice cooker, a rice bag sitting on Osamu’s head, tuna, soy sauce and other specific ingredients on top of the kitchen counter. He didn’t need an answer from Osamu to know what dish he was going to make.
“Otoro nigiri?” Atsumu asked in a surprised tone. efore Osamu could tell him it was not what it seemed, he had already let a small laugh escape between his lips. “Are ya so short ya didn’t reach the lowest shelf? Even with a stool?”
The more he laughed, the funnier he thought it was. However, he didn’t hear his twin’s protests after some minutes, so he looked down expecting to see Osamu’s poker face, but instead received a crestfallen look from him.
“I just wanted to make ya some fatty tuna as a birthday gift,” Osamu whispered, trying to hold back a sob. Atsumu’s eyes were as big as two plates after hearing that, irking Osamu even more. “Why is it so surprisin’? I just shoulda made dog food for ya instead, idiot!”
Atsumu’s lips were trembling due to his contained sneers. Why was the butthead of his twin getting so worked up over a dish? Fatty tuna only required rice and tuna, it was not that difficult. Now that he noticed, Osamu also looked like a puppy who had broken a jar but instead of being apologetic it would just bark. Really, how could he not laugh?
“Well, I’m hungry,” Atsumu said after some time. Osamu seemed to be disappointed with the situation, and begrudgingly decided to cheer his brother up. “And now I want to eat fatty tuna, so get yer butt up and help me!”
Osamu ignored him for a couple minutes, but then he heard his stomach growl. He had no other choice but to get up and continue from where he left off so he wouldn’t raid the whole fridge.
Atsumu only had to press the power button of the rice cooker and be alert, so when it finished he could stop it before it made any sound, while Osamu focused on the tuna —he removed its skin, sliced it into thin portions and with a blow torch, he seared the tuna to bring out the umami flavors, just like he saw on the internet. Next, they both began to place the fatty tuna slices on the rice pillows—not without making a bet of who could work faster. Osamu poured some soy sauce and ginger in separate tiny bowls to serve them with the nigiri, while Atsumu didn’t stop complaining about how adding sauce would make the fatty tuna not shine.
When they finished plating the food, the sun started to peek in the horizon.
They both sighed in unison, as if they had just worked for eight hours straight, when it was actually six in the morning and only four otoro nigir i were completed —and edible.
“Oi, ‘Tsumu.” Osamu took one of the fatty tuna and dipped it in soy sauce. It wasn't as delicious as those he tried in a restaurant, but the perfect texture of the rice and the tuna slice was cut perfectly thin, making it easier to chew. The soy sauce also enhanced the flavors of the nigiri and rice didn’t have for themselves. However, their skills weren’t that good, and even if it was indeed a simple dish, the tuna was burnt on one of its sides because Atsumu wanted to try the kitchen blow torch.
“What, ‘Samu?” Atsumu didn’t think too far ahead of the dish. He saw fatty tuna, he thought it looked good and so he ate it without a second thought.
“Happy birthday,” he said, showing a gap-toothed smile to his older brother.
Atsumu’s eyes sparkled and showed his twin a matching gap-toothed smile, too. “Happy birthday!”
Inside a cozy, tiny kitchen, two ten-year-old boys were busy cleaning the mess they had made at seven in the morning, and if you were to eavesdrop on their whispered conversation, you could hear Atsumu say, “next time, I'll do it.”