Work Text:
Morning comes alongside the smell of chocolate. It’s the perfect mixture of bitter and sweet as it invades Wakatoshi’s senses. A nice push to get up and start the day, too—age has given him a habit of staying in bed for longer than what’s appropriate.
He follows the scent to the kitchen, where Satori seems to be making some kind of dessert. Wakatoshi walks up behind him, loosely wraps his arms around his waist as the bridge of his nose bumps against the back of Satori’s neck.
“Someone overslept,” Satori greets.
Wakatoshi huffs. “There’s no such thing as ‘oversleeping’ at our age.”
“That’s not an excuse to skip breakfast duty.”
Planting a kiss to his husband’s nape, Wakatoshi takes a step back and rolls his shoulders. A different yet equally mouth-watering aroma calls him from the table—to his surprise, Satori wasn’t kidding and breakfast is indeed already served. It’s his favorite, too: a warm bowl of rice with a side of tamagoyaki. Wakatoshi would feel bad about it if he didn’t know how much Satori enjoys making it.
Still, it’s unusual for the food to be ready at this hour of the morning, independently of who’s on breakfast duty, and even if ‘this hour of the morning’ is around 9 AM. Nor does it explain why Satori is still cooking, if breakfast is already on the table.
Satori answers the question without Wakatoshi even needing to ask.
“It’s for the kids,” he says, pointing with his head at the baking utensils laid out next to him. “Don’t tell me you forgot summer break starts today?”
Ah, admittedly, Wakatoshi did forget. He doesn’t want to satisfy Satori with an admittance of defeat, though, and so he resumes eating in silence. He’s sure the other knows the answer, anyways.
He’s proven right when Satori snorts at his silence.
“I’m making some chocolate bonbons,” he continues, eyes gleaming.
“So that their parents can come running and complaining?”
“A risk worth taking.”
Wakatoshi raises an eyebrow, but wears a smile nonetheless.
“It smells good.”
The corners of Satori’s lips curl up as he rolls his eyes.
“Thank you, but you cannot charm me into letting you have some before anyone else.”
“Woe is me, and here I thought that would finally work.”
Satori walks up to the table and gives him a quick peck on his forehead. “We can’t offer bonbons only if we want to be proper guests, by the way. Could you be a dear and fetch us some rice?”
Wakatoshi does as instructed. He likes harvesting rice; it’s good arm work, and it means he can help with their meals even if he’ll never measure up to Satori in the kitchen.
He rolls up the legs of his pants, and walks into the field. The last days of spring have brought forth rain, making puddles of stagnant water form whenever they please. A cold shiver travels up his spine at the contact with the water, but when the warmth of the early summer sun meets his skin, the fresh sensation is more than welcome.
Moving to Shirakawa after both of them retired is the best decision the couple has ever made, probably. Satori insists that taking that cocktail making class back in Cancun still tops it, but Wakatoshi has his doubts. He can’t think of anything better than waking up to the sight of the fields through his windows and a delicious homemade breakfast waiting for him.
The tight-knit community they joined upon moving here is a perk of its own, too. Wakatoshi would gladly fill a whole day with assorted gardening and carpentry jobs, which the townsfolk were always in need of help with. Help which he—or well, he and ‘his big strong arms’ as they always liked to say—are always happy to provide.
Satori, too, is having an excellent time. He’s found his niche as the only gramps in a group of gossiping grannies and now he always has a story or two to share; mostly involving the town’s latest buzz. Wakatoshi thought himself above that kind of stuff, but even he— sometimes —finds himself perking up in interest when Satori starts rambling on about who’s marrying whom or who received which tacky gift.
A perfect, quiet life for their retirement years. One which they lived without regrets.
Well, quiet for the most part, that is. Another lovely blessing the village has gifted them is its children. And, ah, how they love the old couple.
They never had any of their own. With Satori moving to Paris pretty early in their relationship, they’d been long distance for the larger part of it, which didn’t exactly provide appropriate conditions to raise a child in. It’s not something either of the two had ever been preoccupied with—they had each other as family, and that had always been enough. Still, they’ve managed to have a teeny taste of parenthood—grandparenthood?—all thanks to those lovely little kids.
They’re curious; very much so. The first time they were spotted was because Satori caught them peeking through their window. Whispering musings about the new couple that just moved in.
It didn’t take long for Satori to be enamored. He’d always had a soft spot for those younger than him—which, at their age, just means Satori has a soft spot for pretty much everyone—so it didn’t take long for him to let them into their house, either. And how the children loved it.
Their kitchen—and all of Satori’s expensive gourmet ingredients found within it—were raided and devoured, their fancy furniture was climbed on and their floor became filled with muddy footsteps. Still, the light feeling on Wakatoshi’s chest made it all worthwhile.
After that it became commonplace. Neither of them knows why the children adore them so much, but it’s something they’re immensely thankful for.
As Wakatoshi straightens up to wipe the sweat beads off his forehead, he starts to see a few silhouettes from a distance. Jumping figures which he’d recognize anywhere.
He smiles, and braces himself for impact.
Sure enough, the youngest one soon jumps into his arms, with all the others quick to follow. Wakatoshi traps them all in a tight hug. He hears chants of ‘ Grandpa Ushijima !’ and delightfully squeaky voices retelling their days. He wishes he could somehow understand what each kid is saying amongst the chaos, but for now offering a head pat and a warm smile to each shall suffice.
He doesn’t hear Satori walk up to him, either, and finds himself startled when he feels his palm rest on his shoulder. Satori snickers, of course he does.
The kids quickly surround him too, their little hands reaching for his sleeves and the hem of his shirt, trying to drag him towards them. Satori plays along, and he’s better than Wakatoshi at finding quick responses to anything the children say or ask, not leaving one of them unattended.
“What do you say, little birdies, if we went inside and treated you to lunch?”
Wakatoshi’s senses have somehow managed to avoid deteriorating with age—his hearing included. But if there’s anything in the world that threatens to leave him deaf is the loud unanimous cheer that escapes the children everytime Satori says those words, with no exceptions. It’s worth it, though— both him and Satori agree, he knows it from the candid gaze they share when they turn to look at one another.
When Wakatoshi steps back into the house, the smell of chocolate is even more fragrant than before. Satori has been working hard, almost doubling the amount of bonbons spread across the table. The children’s eyes light up with excitement as they clap their tiny hands.
“Wait now, little birdies,” Satori coos, “Have any of you washed your hands?”
“But they’re not dirty!”
“Are you sure? You kids always pet good ol’ Freckles when you come by the house.”
“Freckles isn’t dirty!” a little girl pouts. She seems to take genuine offense in Satori’s comment, which is endearing in a way.
“She may not be,” Satori says, placing a lone strand of hair behind the girl’s ear, “but she hunts mice and crows, and those are sure to be filled with fleas.”
Reluctantly and in between mumbles, the children form a line in front of the kitchen sink. Satori scrubs their hands with practiced care—soap over their palms, under their fingernails, and in between their fingers. Satori holds them gently, lovingly . The sight warms Wakatoshi’s heart.
Baking and cooking are two vastly different arts, and somehow Satori has mastered both of them, something not everyone can do. He washes the rice, cooks it until its texture is nice and firm, mixes the seasonings together and cuts the pork in even slices, all with his assistants running around the kitchen gleefully carrying bowls and utensils. The result is half a dozen plates of tonkatsu with curry, each looking more delicious than the next.
The children devour the food with as much enthusiasm as one would’ve expected, and Satori’s chest puffs up with pride. That’s nothing compared with the absolute fervor they wolf down the bonbons for dessert; Satori approaches the table holding a tray of them, and they disappear in a matter of seconds.
“Your sweets are always so delicious, Grandpa Tendou!”
“Yeah! How can you make them so yummy?”
Satori rests his head on the back of his hand. “While I have no doubt in my innate culinary talents, the truth is I wasn’t always great with this particular recipe, you know? It took a lot of practice.”
The corner of Wakatoshi’s lips lifts a little. He knows this story by heart.
“Really?” one of the kids asks, mouth full of chocolate. They’re so used to the delicate taste of Satori’s desserts that they can’t picture a time where they weren’t perfect, and Wakatoshi can’t blame them. The concept is hard to wrap one’s head around, even for him.
“Really! I mastered bonbons by trial and error— over and over again. I was in a race against the clock, you see.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Oh, I’m glad you asked,” Satori looks over at Wakatoshi as he leans back against the chair. “When I was younger and lived in France, your good Grandpa Ushijima didn’t come to visit too often—to be expected really, given how far away France is from Japan. So, whenever he did manage to appear at my doorstep, I tried to make a lasting impression by showing him a new recipe I’d learned.”
All the children’s eyes rest on Wakatoshi now. He looks down at the sweets he’s eating, praying that the warmth he’s started to feel across his face is nothing but an illusion.
Satori continues,
“Bonbons are harder to make than they seem. Mostly because they require a ridiculous amount of precision, and I’d always been the kind to do things in a hurry. Nothing I did seemed right! But then… Grandpa Ushijima called me saying he’d be visiting by the end of the month! The end of the month , can you believe it? Not even a warning!”
Wakatoshi allows himself to chuckle. “The team we were supposed to go against got disqualified. We had a few weeks of spare time.”
“Which you should’ve spent on your training.”
“Like you would’ve allowed that.”
Satori hums, turns towards the children once again. He left me no choice. I just had to master those darn bonbons by the end of the month.” Satori places his arm atop of his forehead, dramatically, “Sleepless nights, day after day, trying to fight against a deadly dessert— Until I did it! And those were the finest bonbons I’d ever tasted, your gramps can guarantee as much.”
Wakatoshi just silently nods. They were some of the best he’d ever tasted, that is true.
“Can you teach us how to make some?”
“So you little menaces can make them at home while your parents are not looking? Out of the question! I hear enough already about ‘appropriate sugar intakes’, or whatever fancy term is used nowadays.” Despite his words, Satori wears a smile, all sharp teeth like it’s usual.
He’s quickly surrounded by children with teary eyes and pleading voices. And Wakatoshi has a first row seat to witness how Satori is a weak, weak man.
“I’m almost out of ingredients,” he sighs in resignation, “so we will only be able to make a few. But I guess that'll suffice, your stomachs must be full by now, anyways!”
Wakatoshi had never looked too deeply into the way Satori makes his famous bonbons, but seeing him teach the recipe to someone else proves an eye-opening experience. The children do their best measuring every quantity with precision, and Satori’s words of encouragement make them giggle.
Wakatoshi is soon made to help too, even if his rougher hands aren’t as fit to roll up the chocolate in tiny ball shapes as… pretty much any other person in this kitchen, really.
By the time they’re done, the sun’s begun to set. Wakatoshi likes the sky like this—a combination of warm oranges and passionate reds sprinkled with faint purples, a sight that almost feels like taking a good bite out of a freshly harvested peach.
“Shouldn’t you kids be heading home?” he hears Satori ask.
“I told my parents I’d be here, so they shouldn’t be worried.”
“Mine too, mine too!”
“And the sun’s still up!”
“You little birdies,” Wakatoshi doesn’t need to take his view away from the window to know Satori shakes his head; he can almost hear the gesture. “I’ll yield. But I’ve run out of activities to share with you, and I’d hate to bore you to death, just sitting by an old man…”
“They can play volleyball,” Wakatoshi suggests, so quickly his words overlap with Satori’s. His chest fills with the crisp evening air.
He knows the kids know how to play—they always recount how much they’ve been practicing during recess at school. Wakatoshi wants to believe at least part of the reason why had too with the stories Satori and him have been telling them.
As the kids play, the couple sit in the grass, enjoying the summer breeze around them. It’s comfortable, Wakatoshi thinks, just sitting back for a while.
“You didn’t have to do it, you know,” Satori speaks, breaking the silence between them. “Choose to sit by sad ol’ me. I’m sure you could’ve handled this match. You used to be a pro.”
Wakatoshi chuckles. “Why wouldn’t I want to be here next to you? ‘Sides, having been a pro doesn’t make me stop aging you know? I could’ve lost terribly against a bunch of elementary schoolers.”
Satori laughs. Wild and carefree like everything he does—now that’s one thing that doesn’t go away with age. He takes Wakatoshi’s hand, and Wakatoshi gives him a soft squeeze.
The moon is already visible, looking out of place surrounded by the brightness of the sky.
It’s a beautiful scene. It’s only made better by everyone surrounding him—especially his husband’s warm company.
Wakatoshi insists, in this he believes wholeheartedly: Satori and him live their life without regrets.