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“Are you interested?” Despa says. He’s walking down the hall with Desha - the two of them have a rare concurrent break from lessons, so they’re going to walk the castle perimeter together. “I’ll lend you the book sometime… it’s an interesting volume I had to buy off a travelling salesperson.”
“With your own allowance, and not the library budget, right?” Desha says suspiciously.
Despa huffs.
“The library budget is intended to be used for books, isn’t it?” He says. “You’re so stingy. Father doesn’t even care.”
“That’s another problem.” Desha mutters.
They turn a corner - they pass by a group of maids finishing their work, talking to the side of the hallway.
“And Ouken-sama was fitted in such a cute apron!” One of them giggles fondly. “He said he was going to be making something special. I wonder what it is?”
Desha and Despa both stop in their tracks.
“I know, right? I’m so curious.” Another maid sighs. “I didn’t even know Ouken-sama could cook. It’s not often he comes down to the kitchens.”
Desha and Despa backtrack. They come up to the group of maids. The expressions on their faces must be intense, because one of them catches sight of them and immediately fumbles her dustcloth.
“Desha-sama! Despa-sama!” She exclaims, and the others quickly stop chattering and come around. “Sorry for making so much noise!”
Despa waves her off.
“That’s of no concern.” He says seriously. He fixes her with a look - Desha’s already-imposing brow is set with an air of grim forboding. “Did you say… Ouken… was in the kitchens?”
“Yes,” the maid says.
“As in, he seemed like he was going to cook something?” Despa presses, leaning forward. “Using kitchen implements, in the kitchen?”
“Well, yes,” the maid says, hesitantly.
“And he was wearing an apron?” Despa says.
“Yes he was,” the maid replies.
“This is a serious situation.” Despa mutters aside to Desha.
“Right.” Desha says. “The castle could be in danger.”
“Thank you for the information,” Despa says. The two of them leave.
The maids watch them walk down the hallway for a moment. Their pace is markedly quicker than the casual stroll they had been going at before.
“Do you think…” One of them says. “Maybe Ouken-sama can’t cook?”
“I’m sure he can’t be that bad.” Another says.
“Wait! Was that alright!?” The maid who’d originally seen Ouken exclaims. “Didn’t Ouken-sama say he was going to surprise his brothers!?”
--
“He really is here,” Despa mutters. He’s peering surreptitiously around the corner of the kitchen door’s doorframe, his fingers wrapped around the wood. Desha is right above him. A drop of sweat rolls down Despa’s temple. “Anija, can’t you do something about your nose? It’s sticking out so far that if Ouken looks this way, you won’t be able to get out of sight in time.”
“Do you want me to hit you?” Desha says.
Ouken, is, luckily, oblivious. The kitchens are empty around this time - the post-lunch chores are finished, and it’s not yet time to start preparations for dinner - so Ouken has the entire place to himself. Despa watches as Ouken, clad in a frilly white apron, stirs something in a large mixing bowl, humming to himself.
“Where did he even get that thing?” Desha says under his breath.
“I think it’s in rather good taste, actually.” Despa murmurs, stroking his chin. He doesn’t look up but he can tell Desha is glaring at him.
Ouken puts down the mixing bowl. He seems to think about something for a moment, then turns around - Desha and Despa scramble to hide behind the doorframe - and exits the kitchen from a different door.
“Where does that go?” Desha asks.
“The pantry,” Despa replies. He comes out from behind the doorframe. “Come on, quickly. We have to inspect that thing.”
“Why do you know that?” Desha asks, following him.
“Girls won’t like you if you’re overly curious about their eating habits, Anija,” Despa says.
They come up to the counter that Ouken had left. Despa peers suspiciously at the concoction in the mixing bowl.
“Well… it looks normal enough.” Desha frowns.
“Don’t be fooled by appearances.” Despa replies. He dabs the tip of his pinky finger into the mixture - it’s a normal looking color for a baked good batter, an acceptably pale beige, and the consistency isn’t too bad. But it’s Ouken’s cooking. He can’t let his guard down.
“Is that sanitary?” Desha says.
“You think my hands are dirty?” Despa says, glaring at him sideways. Desha rolls his eyes but doesn’t press the point further.
Despa reluctantly licks the tip of his finger.
Desha watches him.
“Well?” He says after a moment. “How does it taste?”
Despa sticks out his tongue.
“Terrible,” he sighs. He licks the rest off his finger anyways.
“Then why did you keep eating it…?” Desha asks, and then he exhales heavily. “Whatever. Is it salvageable?”
There’s a rustling noise from the pantry. Desha and Despa both jump.
“When in doubt!” Despa whispers - he picks up the jar of sugar and tries to unscrew the cap. It’s on too tightly. He strains for what feels like minutes with no success. He glares at the jar. “Damn Ouken’s strength!”
“What are you doing?” Desha hisses.
“Here! Open this!” Despa huffs, handing the jar over to him. “Brute strength is the only thing Anija is good for anyways!”
“You really…” Desha mutters, taking the jar. “You can’t even open this? Should I up your training regimen?” He twists and the lid pops open easily.
“I loosened it for you.” Despa scowls.
“Whatever you say.” Desha hands him the jar. Despa snatches it from his hand. “But what are you going to - hey!”
Despa unceremoniously dumps half the container of sugar into the bowl. He whisks - the sugar dissolves easily.
“Are you trying to kill whoever eats that?” Desha says.
“It’ll be fine!” Despa says. He re-caps the sugar and grabs Desha by the arm, pulling him back towards the door. “Hurry, we don’t know when Ouken will return!”
They scramble back behind the doorframe just in time - Ouken emerges from the pantry with a few streaks of flour in his hair that hadn’t been there before and a jar of something dark in his hands.
“What is that?” Despa mutters, squinting at it.
“Don’t ask me.” Desha grumbles. “You know I’m not good with details from afar.”
“Did you go see the optical department like I told you to?” Despa says. “Wait, that’s not the issue right now!”
Ouken, still beaming innocently, dumps in the entire jar of mysterious dark objects. Desha and Despa watch with a feeling of impending dread.
--
“Well,” Despa says, an hour of crouching behind the doorframe later, “Ouken seems to have this situation under control.”
“Is he going to sit there and watch the oven the entire time?” Desha asks skeptically. Ouken is, in fact, sitting in front of the oven. He’s watching his item bake with a smile on his face. The planes of his jaw and the apples of his cheeks are lit by the warm glow of the oven light.
Despa shrugs.
“That might be for the best.” He sighs. “Heaven knows if Ouken took his eyes off it, it would probably burn.”
“That’s true.” Desha says.
“Aah. I’ve spent my precious free afternoon watching Ouken bake.” Despa complains, walking away from the kitchens. Desha follows him. “Did you have plans for this afternoon?”
“Training, probably,” Desha says.
“You are so dull.” Despa grumbles.
“At least I could open that jar,” Desha points out.
“I said I loosened it for you!” Despa exclaims. He shakes his head. “Besides, you should take an afternoon off training every once in a while. Is there anything you want to do?”
“You’re being awfully considerate,” Desha says suspiciously.
“I’m always considerate,” Despa huffs, slightly offended. “Is it that strange to want to spend time with my brother?”
Desha is quiet for a moment. Despa looks over at him - his cheeks are slightly pink and it looks like he’s trying his best not to be touched.
“Hey!” Despa says. “You’re having some sappy thoughts again, aren’t you?”
“I’m not,” Desha growls, schooling his features back into something serious.
Despa laughs.
“You don’t have to try so hard to be serious, Anija.” He says.
“Says the one who’s always messing around.” Desha grumbles, reaching out to ruffle Despa’s hair. Despa turns red with indignation - he would usually shout, exclaim something about how long he spends doing his hair in the mornings, but after a moment of consideration he bites his tongue. It’s a special day, after all.
“Right, right.” He huffs instead, folding his arms. “I’m serious! There must be something you want to do...”
--
“You baked it, Ouken?” Despa says, feigning surprise.
“Yes!” Ouken replies, beaming at Despa’s positive reaction. “I followed a recipe from the library!”
The cake is slightly lopsided and messily frosted - clearly something made with an inexpert hand. The ring of cherries around the top are misaligned and drooping slightly. They happen to be Desha’s favorite fruit. They also happen to be in season right now. Despa had gone through great pains to get them secretly imported. It had taken three months of work to forge a trade alliance with a specific mountainside country with a mild climate.
Despa grins.
“I’m sure he’ll be pleased,” he says. He looks around. “Anyways, while we’re here, want to snoop around Anija’s room?”
“Despa-nii!” Ouken exclaims, grabbing his arm.
“I’m joking, I’m joking.” Despa says, drifting over to Desha’s desk. He flicks a few of the papers on top of the neat stacks lining the tabletop. Nothing but work and more work.
“Do you think he’ll be here soon?” Ouken asks.
“I’m sure of it.” Despa says, checking against his mental schedule. “Anija usually doesn’t spend more than half an hour at dinner, and he always comes straight back to his room afterwards.”
There’s a shuffling sound from the hallway outside.
“Quickly!” Despa says, gesturing at Ouken - they hide on the left side of the doorway into Desha’s room, the side the door will hinge on, waiting for Desha to come in.
The door creaks open.
Desha stops in the doorframe. Despa can’t see him through the door, but he has the feeling Desha is staring at the cake on the table. He’s probably confused. Despa suppresses the urge to snicker.
Desha finally steps into the room and closes the door behind him.
“Surprise!” Ouken and Despa shout, leaping out from their hiding place behind the door. They unceremoniously pile onto Desha, hanging onto his shoulders.
“Aaargh!” Desha makes a noise that’s most definitely surprised. He staggers back against the now-closed door under their sudden weight - he makes a vague flailing gesture, and there’s definitely the spark and crackle of lightning in the air.
“Hey, hey! No lightning! No!” Despa shouts, grabbing onto one of Desha’s hands.
“Despa!” Desha exclaims. “Ouken!”
“I bet you forgot, didn’t you?” Despa huffs, dropping off of Desha’s shoulders and folding his arms. “That it’s your birthday!”
Desha looks at him for a moment. He frowns. He seems to contemplate.
“What day is it?” He asks.
Despa sighs.
“See, that’s why Ouken and I have to go through so much trouble to do this.” He says. “You’re inconsiderate even to yourself, Anija!”
“Well, it’s his birthday, so let’s not fight, Despa-nii.” Ouken laughs. He pulls Desha over to the table by the hand. “Anija, look at this! I baked this for you!”
“So that’s what that was,” Desha mutters.
“Huh?” Ouken says.
“I mean…” Desha says, turning pink. He scratches his chin. “Really? It looks good. Thank you, Ouken.”
Ouken beams like he’s just gotten a year’s worth of allowance at once. Despa smiles.
“When I tasked Ouken with preparing the cake, I didn’t think he would make one himself.” He says, ruffling Ouken’s hair fondly. Ouken flourishes under the praise like a spring flower in the rain. Ouken has been growing taller by the day. He’d surpassed Despa in height a while ago. Despa has to stretch to reach the top of his younger brother’s head.
“But you… you knew what Ouken was doing and you didn’t say anything?” Desha grumbles, turning to Despa.
“Of course! It would have been obvious to anyone with half a logical mind.” Despa huffs. “I originally wasn’t even going to bring you to the kitchens, for fear of giving the game away, but I decided that preservation of the castle came first.”
“Preservation of the castle?” Ouken asks curiously.
“It’s nothing.” Despa says seriously, putting a hand on his shoulder. He turns around, beaming. “Now, shall we get this celebration started?”
--
Desha and Despa both watch with bated breath as Ouken cuts the cake. There's still one mystery left unsolved.
"It's vanilla cake!" Ouken says happily, taking out the first slice. "And I know Anija likes chocolate, so I added some chocolate chips!"
He puts the slice on the plate. Desha and Desha lean over the table to inspect it, then each breathe a sigh of relief.
"So they were chocolate chips..." Despa mutters.