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A small shriek rang out from somewhere ahead. Yuichiro stopped his dawdling in the hallway of the Ubayashiki mansion. Where had that come from? Voices were discussing in a panic in… the kitchen.
Yuichiro was curious. Horribly so. But after all, it might not be his business… However, he’s quite bored… But…
He’d already taken himself to the kitchen. Turns out curiosity is deadly to his rationale. Deep breaths…
‘What's going on here?’ asked Yuichiro as he leant on the doorway.
Hinaki and Nichika were diligently trying to cook something. A shiny pot sat on the stove, vibrating slightly. Ingredients were strewn across the counter. There was the fragrant smell of chicken and vegetables. Yuichiro awkwardly figured he might've come off as too aggressive, since both girls were startled by his presence.
‘T-Tokito-san!’ squeaked Nichika, hurriedly bowing alongside her sister. ‘How come you…’
How come you're not moping in your room like some loser with his head so far up his ass?
How come you're giving a fuck about other people, you selfish bastard?
How come you haven't killed yourself yet?
‘I just heard… commotion.’ He tried speaking slower. Softer. There was no energy left in him to deal with two alarmed kids. ‘Is there a problem?’
‘Well… Father is a little sick, so we wanted to make some warm soup for him…’ muttered Hinaki. She glanced at the bubbling pot in disappointment. ‘But something went wrong— and the soup is too salty now…’
There was an awkward silence. Yuichiro's eye twitched.
He sighed, a little exasperated. ‘Let me take a look.’
Nichika's eyebrows flew even higher. ‘Oh, but we don't want to bother you—’
Translation: No one wants you here.
‘— you seem very tired, after all.’
Translation: You look so miserable, you bring the mood down.
Like he gave a shit. Yuichiro entered the kitchen anyway.
He peered inside the pot and stirred the ingredients curiously. While scooping up a bit of broth into a small dish, he asked, ‘What soup is this?’
Hinaki pulled out a small piece of paper from her kimono. ‘It's a kind of western chicken soup. It's supposed to be very warm and filling…’
He drank the cooled broth and winced. Good grief, were you trying to poison the master? Yuichiro managed to bite back the comment.
‘Is that the recipe you're holding? Can I see it?’ Was he asking for too much? Hinaki might not give it to him.
‘Oh, yes, of course…!’
The two girls inched closer to him as he read. It seemed to be a decent recipe— the ingredients and instructions were very clear— it wasn't hard to follow.
Yet, mistakes happen, he laughed hollowly to himself.
‘I think I know how to fix this,’ sighed Yuichiro, half to himself, half to the young Ubayashikis.
‘You'd do that..?’ gasped Nichika. ‘Tokito-san, you don't have to…’
‘It's all right.’ I want to try to help. ‘I have nothing better to do anyway.’
Amidst the stunned silence, Yuichiro got a tasuki from inside his yukata and began to tie up his long sleeves. ‘How come there's no kakushi? You could've asked them to make it for you, so you wouldn't have to worry about making mistakes.’ He tried tucking his long and messy hair behind his ear, but he was unsuccessful. The strands fell in front of his face again, blocking his view.
One of the girls spoke. ‘We wanted to make it ourselves. It would be more meaningful that way.’ Her smile was etched in her tone.
Sick. Yuichiro began to feel sick to his stomach. Such filial children. Look at you, who can't even say those—
He had to shake it off and focus on the topic at hand. Memories were flipped through in his head as he tried to find a solution. There must be something. There is something.
…There it is.
His hands had been shaking. Hands. Small hands that could barely hold a knife, barely carry an iron pot no bigger than his own head. He must've been around 8 years old.
Fear and anxiety had clouded his mind. He'd done something— put too much salt in the stew, maybe— and now it was barely edible. No, it was fully inedible.
The last of the radish had been in there. The radish Dad and Muichiro worked so hard to find. “A treat!” Dad had said, when the two returned from their expedition. Even when Yuichiro was scolding him for trailing dirt in the house while wiping his face clean, Muichiro was still giggling and droning on about the trip with Dad.
Mum's trust had been in there. She let him take full liberties with the soup while she went to take care of the rice. “I know you can do it!” Clapping and cheering. “We’re going to have a delicious dinner made by chef Yuichiro!” Eyes twinkling with excitement and maybe even pride.
And now, because of a stupid mistake he shouldn't have made, all of that had gone to waste. Even pigs wouldn't eat it.
‘Yuichiro, what's wrong, dear?’ Mum's voice rang next to his ear. He was standing on a small stool and he was as tall as her. At 8 years old.
He had tried not to sniffle. ‘I… I was— I—’ He would fail. ‘I ruined… the soup…’
Her eyebrows raised in surprise. Mom tasted the soup and squealed. Her kind face scrunched up like a sponge.
‘I'm— I'm sor—’
‘Bwahahahaha!’ The joyful sound had startled him. ‘Oh, it's so salty! Oooh, I think I just got shivers down my spine!’
He couldn't understand. He just kept on staring at his mother while wringing his hands together. She just kept on giggling while clutching her stomach.
Admittedly, he'd felt a little frustrated at her lack of seriousness.
After a short while, she stopped laughing. With tearful eyes, she had directed a comforting smile at him. ‘It's all right, Yuichiro. We can fix this. Mistakes happen! Don't worry, okay?’
Mistakes happen. Mistakes happen. Mistakes happen.
‘But… it's my fault that it became like that…’
‘Shhh.’ With her hands, calloused, worn, yet to him they were as soft as cotton, she had wiped away tears that he was unaware of. ‘Don't cry, my sweet baby. Everything's going to be okay.’
She gave him a small kiss on top of his head. ‘Mistakes can be fixed. I forgive you, my dearest Yui. I always will.’ She wrapped her thin arms around him in a warm embrace
She will always forgive you.
‘Now, we'd better hurry up before your father and my other sweet baby get back from fetching water!’ Mom had been excited. ‘Let me show you a trick, Yuichiro. Next time, if you accidentally oversalt your soup, you just need to…’
.
.
.
Need to what?
The memory ended.
Yuichiro stood in a daze, watching the bubbles in the soup appear, swell, then pop. Pop.
‘You can't remember? I wasted my time.’
He turned slowly to the side to be met with Mum's face. He didn't have a stool, yet he was as tall as her. At this time… he was probably around 12?
Her face was gaunt, her cheekbones’ outline sharp against the pale, stretched skin. The face of someone who died of an illness. She looked at him with a frown of disappointment.
I'm sorry.
Mum shook her head and huffed. ‘It was that simple. How can you forget? It would've been better if I didn't show you at all.’
He wished she was angry instead. Like Dad, with his smashed open skull that leaked blood and brains. Yuichiro's cheek still stung from where he was slapped in his dream.
‘...Can you forgive me?’ Yuichiro mouthed those words.
Her kind eyes twitched in annoyance. ‘Are you serious? I could never forgive you.’ She spat, disgust dripping from her words. ‘You failed me. You failed us. No one will forgive you, as long as your wretched life manages to last.’
No one will forgive you.
She sneered in mockery, but she did not grin. Her mouth was downturned in a grimace. ‘How arrogant of you to ask that. Has surviving bloated your ego?’
Arrogant. Arrogant.
‘You keep saying that you regret us dying. But you can’t even keep in mind what we said. Were our words so useless to you? I taught you things out of the good in my heart, and you can't appreciate any of it?’ She didn't raise her voice at all. It was unbearable.
I'm sorry.
‘What about what I told you before I died? Oh, but you were so stuck-up you didn't want to hear it, did you?’
Yes, I did. I'm sorry.
She turned her head away. ‘Suit yourself. You couldn't even follow through with it anyway.’
Muichiro's laughter rang out from somewhere.
‘Tokito-san…?’ Hinaki was meekly tugging his sleeve.
‘Sorry,’ he muttered, fully meaning it. For how long had he zoned out? What did they think of him now? He almost laughed at that. Why should he even care?
Lunatics just get more lunatical.
The younger children looked at him expectantly. Right, he was going to do something…
‘Don't pour more water in,’ he blurted. Words flowed out of his mouth like water. ‘It's going to dilute the rich stock. Get me a—’ Wording. ‘Could you fetch me a potato?’
The next few minutes flew by like a blur. Somehow, he'd gotten the vegetable, cut it up, and tossed it in the soup.
The three of them watched in silence, with the only sound piercing the atmosphere being the blub of the soup and the crackle of the fire.
‘That should be it,’ whispered Yuichiro, pouring out some soup into dishes for them to taste.
After drinking, the girls’ faces brightened.
‘You did it!’ exclaimed Hinaki. ‘This tastes great!’
‘Thank you, Tokito-san,’ smiled Nichika.
Yuichiro was a little embarrassed. ‘No need to thank me… it wasn't that big of a deal. Just remember that next time, if you oversalt your soup, you just need to drop in starchy things like potatoes and the like to absorb the salt.’
That's what Mum said.
He looked over at the spirit of his mother, heart thumping wildly. As if he wanted something. But she was no longer there.
…Of course. What was he expecting? Praise? Recognition? All he did was fix a mistake that he made.
If anything, he should be punished for forgetting her words.
Sick. He felt so fucking sick.
‘Well, I'll be going now…’ Yuichiro wanted to go back to his room and vomit up all his organs.
The girls seemed to be disappointed. ‘Oh, um…’ Nichika shuffled from one foot to another. ‘At some other time, would you be willing to… teach us how to cook?’
Yuichiro's billion thoughts halted. He stared at her, stunned.
‘Yes, please,’ said Hinaki earnestly. ‘We really want to improve our cooking skills, and since you seem to be so knowledgeable, we think it would be great if we could learn from you.’
A beat.
‘I’ll think about it.’ He wanted to say something else, but he couldn’t.
Yuichiro left, feeling colder than ever.