Work Text:
Saburo stirred awake one Saturday morning, groaning softly as he slowly rolled onto his side. For the first time since winter began, he didn’t wake up with terrible pains in his leg, and instead, he felt…normal. Smiling a bit at this, Saburo sat up and slowly stood up. His leg ached a bit when he put his weight on it, but he was able to walk without his cane, finally.
He quickly threw a hoodie and jeans on after tossing his pajamas into his hamper, and shuffled out of his bedroom slowly, sighing softly as he smelled a delicious smell of eggs and vegetables. Was Ichiro making omlettes?
His question received a quick answer when he peeked into the kitchen, and saw Ichiro flip an omelette onto a plate. “Good morning Ichi-nii. Is that mine?” Saburo asked.
Ichiro turned to face his brother and blinked, before a huge smile crossed his face. “Morning, Saburo. Yeah, this is yours. You got up just in time.” He slid Saburo’s plate over to him, and Saburo accepted the plate and walked slowly over to the table to eat.
Ichiro set his spatula down and watched him.
“So is your leg feeling better, finally?” Ichiro asked him.
“Yeah,” Saburo replied, grabbing his fork and beginning to dig into the breakfast that Ichiro gave him. “It hurts a bit when I put weight on it, but I think that’s normal right now. I don’t need any medication.”
“That’s great!” Ichiro’s smile widened, his eyes crinkling with affection. “You’ll be fully healed in no time.”
They both knew that wasn’t true. Saburo would never be truly, fully healed. He knew that every winter, he would face the same issues with his leg. He had suffered really bad muscle damage, and he wasn’t even sure if he would ever be fully able to walk normally even if his legs had been uninjured. But even still, Saburo would at least be able to walk again. He was just glad that he didn’t need to get his legs amputated.
“Where’s Jiro?” Saburo opted to ask instead of acknowledging Ichiro’s positive statement.
If Ichiro realized that Saburo was intentionally diverting the subject, he didn’t show it. He instead went back to cooking. “He’s out on a job.”
“Huh? Jiro is?” Saburo blinked.
“Yeah. After we opened the shop, one of our regulars asked for help finding and getting his cat.”
“Oh, that regular. Jiro’s always the one who helps him, huh?” Saburo commented.
“Yeah, but he doesn’t mind. Plus, he volunteered,” Ichiro chuckled. “I offered to make him breakfast first, but he said to just throw his plate in the fridge.”
“I see…when did he leave?” Saburo shoved some of his omelette into his mouth.
“Not long before I started cooking…maybe ten minutes before?” Ichiro glanced at the digital clock on the wall. “...Yeah, I’d say about then.”
“Then-” Saburo began to speak, only for a bell to chime throughout the building. Ichiro quickly turned off the stove and untied his apron before hanging it up on its little hook.
“Gotta go. That’s probably a customer. I might have a job to run to. I’ll catch ya later, Saburo!” Ichiro ruffled his hair before jogging out, slipping his shoes on as he left.
“See you…” Saburo mumbled, and poked at his omelette before continuing to eat, glancing up at the kitchen and noticing Ichiro had yet to plate Jiro’s food. Though it was still sizzling softly, despite the stove being off. Ichiro probably had a lot on his mind if he was forgetting things so easily.
The moment Saburo finished his breakfast, he slowly stood up and walked towards the kitchen. He set his plate down and turned the sink water on and began to wash his dish.
As he did, he pondered about what could be bothering Ichiro.
Suddenly, an idea hit him. He dried his hands and grabbed his phone from his pocket.
February Sixth.
Shit! Jiro’s birthday is today! Ichi-nii’s probably trying to figure out how to keep Jiro out of the place until he can set up for his birthday!
He felt so stupid. And selfish. He’d been in so much pain and focused only on himself that he hadn’t even thought about the date. He wasn’t thinking about his brothers at all.
And…Ichi-nii’s been so focused on trying to help me that he hasn’t really had time to bake Jiro’s cake…
Saburo clenched his fist, suddenly determined to do something for his brothers, who, for the past sixteen months (or, better said, one year and four months) had been tirelessly tending to him. Anytime his leg hurt, his brothers would help him by getting him his medicine, or heating packs, or hot water bottles. And not to mention the whole blizzard fiasco that happened on the day their heating unit went out. Ichiro had almost gotten hypothermia in his quest to get Saburo a space heater so that he wouldn’t suffer as much, and Jiro had been by his side the whole time, despite his obvious anxiety about Ichiro’s safety.
Ichi-nii’s gonna be out on a job, and Jiro is out right now…I have to keep them both out!
Saburo rolled up his hoodie sleeves, and looked at the pan with Jiro’s food. He should plate that before it burned.
So, after he finished that and stuck it in the fridge, Saburo got to work, tackling the dirty dishes and sweeping the kitchen.
Once his workplace was all clean, Saburo grabbed his phone and looked up cake recipes to follow.
How hard can baking a cake be, after all?
_____
That had gone terribly.
Saburo stared at his…cake? In utter disgust. It didn’t look like cake at all. It looked like lumpy, hardened bread that had gone stale. The sixteen year old clicked his tongue in annoyance, putting his hands on his hips.
Maybe it won’t taste bad..? If it tastes good, I can cover up its looks with enough frosting…
Giving himself the benefit of doubt, Saburo wedged a knife on the edge of the rectangular cake. He managed to get a tiny piece of the crusty cake out, and lifted the warm baked treat to his lips. He took a bite.
And then promptly spat it out into the trash that was near him. The soggy, saliva splattered bite laid innocuously on top of the trash that he’d discarded from the eggshells and other things he’d tossed away as he baked the cake.
“Why the hell does it taste like raw fish, of all things..?!” Saburo cried out, gripping his hair in distress. “I can’t feed this to anyone! Least of all my brothers!” He looked back at the kitchen, a feeling of hopelessness quickly starting to envelope him.
Pathetic…you can’t even bake a cake for your brothers…after all they’ve done for you…they’ll realize that you’re not worth their time after all… Samejima’s voice whispered into his ear.
“No…” Saburo whispered.
They’ll wish you never returned. Samejima seemed to appear in front of him, smirking cruelly.
“Shut up…”
They probably aren’t even on a job right now. They’re probably just trying to avoid you so they don’t have to see your pathetic fucking face again.
“I said shut up!” Saburo screamed, clamping his hands over his ears and aiming a kick at Samejima. The illusion disappeared upon contact, seemingly going through him. However, Saburo, in his panic, had used his left leg to kick away Samejima- or, well, the illusion of him. This put all of his weight on his right leg, and the force of his kick had him staggering as well.
He let out a gasp as he flailed his arms to try to balance himself.
What happened next felt like time had sped up.
One moment, he was falling, and the next, his body and arms hit the stuff he’d set on the counter- all of the bowls, mixing spoons, measuring glasses…everything. And then it was all falling. There were a million loud clatters and shatters, followed by the leftover eggs and milk and everything else he’d (stupidly, he might add), left out.
He sat there in shock. He wasn’t hurt, by all means…but he had a huge mess to clean up now before his brothers got home, and plus he still had to set the kitchen up for Jiro’s cake-
Oh. no. Nevermind. The cake was one of the things that had fallen.
“Dammit!” Saburo slammed his hand on the ground in frustration, ignoring the sting in his hand when he did so, tears pricking his eyes. He really was a failure.
He jumped as he heard footsteps pounding up the stairs from the shop to their home, and shut his eyes tightly as the front door swung open.
“Saburo!”
It was Jiro.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Jiro ran over, his shoes stomping on the ground. “Saburo! Oi, are you awake?!”
“...I’m sorry, Jiro…” Saburo whispered, not opening his eyes to look at him. “Don’t be mad…”
“Mad? Why would I be mad?!”
“I…I just wanted…” Saburo whispered, “to…do something for you…”
“I don’t care about that right now, Saburo! Look at me-” when Saburo slowly opened his eyes, Jiro searched his face, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Are you hurt?”
Saburo shook his head.
“Okay.” Jiro breathed out a huge sigh, looking relieved. “Don’t…don’t move. Okay? You’ll step in glass.” He looked around for a moment, before muttering to himself and picking Saburo up off the ground and carrying him to the living room, setting him down.
“So what happened?” Jiro asked him.
Saburo looked away from him.
“...I just…wanted to make you something. For your birthday. But…it all came out wrong. I can’t do anything right!” Saburo lifted his stinging hand to his face to wipe furiously at his eyes before he could cry.
“W-woah, hey! You said you weren’t hurt!” Jiro rushed off, only to return moments later with some tweezers, peroxide, and bandages. “Hold your hand out.”
Saburo wordlessly did as he was told.
Jiro began to pluck the glass out of his hand, his lower lip bitten. “...By the way…Saburo.”
“What..?”
“It isn’t true, you know.”
“What isn’t?”
“That you can’t do anything right. You’re a brainiac kid, alright? You’re hella smart, bro, and I know you got into that high school that you took those entrance exams for. Hell, maybe you’ll get in with a scholarship! I think you can do it.” Jiro coughed lightly, and gently dabbed some peroxide onto his injuries with a cotton ball. “A-anyway…you didn’t have to do anything for me. Really.”
Saburo gave him a look of doubt.
“I’m glad that you wanted to, though! I knew my cute baby brother still existed!” Jiro teased as he wrapped Saburo’s hand up.
“...Fuck off…” Saburo muttered.
Jiro laughed, his yellow and green eyes alight with amusement. “Stay here while I clean up, okay?”
Saburo only nodded guiltily as Jiro got up and went back into the kitchen to clean up his mess. As he watched him, he felt as though Samejima was leaning over his shoulder and whispering words into his ear- words that he didn’t need to be hearing.
“Oi, Saburo! What did you put in this cake?”
“...Did you eat cake off the floor, Jiro..?” Saburo hesitantly called out in disbelief.
“No.”
“That cake was on the floor.”
“Not all of it!”
“Oh my god. Jiro, that’s disgusting! That’s not sanitary at all!” Saburo cried out, “just how am I related to you?!”
“It wasn’t on the floor!” Jiro protested, “some of the cake was still in the pan you baked it in! It didn’t touch the floor! And anyway, are you sure you weren’t trying to prank me?!”
“No! I wasn’t!”
“You sure?! Because you put fish sauce in the cake!”
“...What.” Saburo quickly stood up, staggering a bit on his bad leg and walked towards the kitchen. Jiro stood there, holding a fish sauce bottle in his hand. He pointed at the cabinet.
“You got this from here, right?”
“Yeah.”
Jiro opened the cabinet and plucked out a bottle that was almost identical. “Saburo. This is vanilla. This is fish sauce.”
Saburo’s heart dropped.
Slowly, Jiro began to grin in amusement. The grin stretched out across his face. “You didn’t read the labels. You looked up, saw them both, and just grabbed one, didn’t you?”
“I…” Saburo clamped his mouth shut. That had been exactly what he did, and Jiro had found out instantly.
“That’s…fucking hilarious!” Jiro burst out laughing at him, causing Saburo’s cheeks to heat up. “Oh my god- this is the best screw up yet!”
“Sh-shut up! And don’t tell Ichi-nii…”
“I won’t, I won’t…but holy shit, Saburo…” Jiro snickered, “this made my day.”
Saburo gave him a look.
“No, really!” Jiro chortled, “I think I’m good on whatever you or aniki had planned for me.”
“I’m glad I could amuse you…” Saburo grumbled. Though it was better than him being angry or wanting to disown him, so Saburo didn’t complain much more.
It didn’t take Jiro long after that to clean up, still chuckling to himself, much to Saburo’s chagrin.
By the time it was all cleaned up, the door opened again, and Ichiro came in with a large box in his hands. “Happy Birthday, Jiro!” Ichiro called out.
“Thanks, aniki!”
“Why do I smell fish?” Ichiro set the box down, glancing around curiously.
“Saburo just tried to cook for us,” Jiro said in amusement, “but he needs help with it.”
“Oh, sure,” Ichiro looked pleased. “Saburo, wanna give me a hand with making dinner in a while? We’re having curry.”
“A-ah…yeah!” Saburo glanced over at Jiro, who only winked at him.
It then occurred at Saburo what Jiro had done.
He hadn’t told him about his failed abomination of a cake, but he’d offered him a chance to help Ichiro cook, so that he could feel like he did something for him, like he’d initially wanted.
“Oi, Saburo. What happened to your hand?” Ichiro looked concerned.
“Ah…cooking accident,” Saburo said evasively.
“You gotta be careful,” Ichiro nudged him gently. “You won’t get hurt under my watch, though. Let’s prep our ingredients. You can use Jiro’s apron.”
“Okay.” Saburo turned away from him and walked to the aprons, where they were hanging up.
“Oh, hey, Saburo,” Jiro spoke quietly to him as Saburo grabbed the apron and began tying it around him. “You’ll do fine.”
“I know. Ichi-nii will be watching.”
“Yep,” Jiro clapped his shoulder, “so there’s no chance of my curry tasting like fish, right?”
“Oh piss off, Jiro!” Saburo cried.
“You ready, Saburo?” Ichiro asked him while picking up his own apron, seemingly unaware of their little fight.
“Y-Yes, Ichi-nii!” Saburo scrambled to follow Ichiro into the kitchen.
Needless to say, with Ichiro’s help, the two made a delicious birthday curry for Jiro. And while Saburo and Jiro never told Ichiro about what happened, he felt as though all was forgiven anyway. Sure, he was still a nuisance, but at least he was in a better place than he was when he tried to bake alone.
Now, if only Samejima would stop whispering what he didn’t want to hear into his ear, things would be truly looking up.