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It was not uncommon for Rintarou to come home and find the other two intent on cooking together.
It didn't even seem real to Osamu to have someone he could finally cook with.
For him, cooking together with someone was something highly intimate and symbiotic. And, before Motoya, he had never found anyone to do it with in that all-embracing way. The way he understood it.
His brother produced disasters, boasting - with the mental age of five that distinguished him so well - that he had created the dish of the century (when in fact the only thing he was capable of creating, and in epic proportions, was the fire0 of the kitchen. And of the house, as a consequence).
Rintarou, on the other hand, was someone who never paid much attention to what he ate so, as a result, he made the strangest combinations. This cost poor Osamu's coronary a decade each time.
So Osamu had always tried his hand at the act of pure love that is cooking.
But then Motoya came along...
And with him that act of love had also become an act of sharing.
That was how Rintarou found them, as soon as he opened the front door and the two of them, all smeared with flour and eggs, turned in unison to welcome him home.
He smiled, Rintarou, one of his rare smiles, feeling himself enveloped by their love.
Three, understood as the number of perfection and Unity since antiquity and in different cultures and religions, had never been a random number.
And the three of them, together, were living proof of that.