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“Are you almost done?” Rin asks, perhaps for the tenth time this particular morning.
Yukio takes his glasses off and rubs his eyes. A warm breeze wafts in from the window with the faint sweetness of cherry blossoms. Somehow, the bitter scent of herbs and wooden furniture in the pharmaceutics office remains the same as when their father used it. It always makes him think of the monastery.
“I want to eat lunch.” Rin’s chair squeaks when he leans it back on the hind legs. “Come on. You said you’d be done if I helped with the quiz, right? Let’s take a break.”
“Yeah, but I need to adjust a few of your questions,” Yukio says. “You did a good job.”
Rin tilts his chair forward. “It’s because I’m a real exorcist now.”
A smile tugs at Yukio’s lips. “That’s true, but some of your multiple choice options are just unrealistic. Call Mephisto? I’ve only ever left Sir Pheles voice mails.”
“You’re going to make them harder?” Rin heaves out a long-suffering sigh. “It’s good enough. What do you want for lunch?”
Before Yukio can answer, Rin’s chair tips backward.
“Whoa!” Rin grabs onto a shelf, knocks it over and crashes to the floor. “Ow,” he huffs. “That really hurt.”
“Nii-san…” Yukio grimaces when a plume of dust rises. He should clean the tops of the shelves better. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.”
“Be careful. Just sit in your chair properly next time.” Yukio helps him up and grabs one of the textbooks, pausing when a paper slips out.
“Yeah, I’m alright,” Rin says with a bright grin. “Oh. What’s that?”
The sheet of paper has been folded in half twice. Someone penned a neat set of demon pharmaceutics practice questions on one side and a recipe on the other side. The same handwriting covers both sides.
“It doesn’t look like Tou-san’s penmanship.” Yukio tilts his head to peer over Rin’s shoulder. “Does it look familiar to you?”
“Wait.” Rin lifts his head so abruptly that he nearly hits Yukio’s chin. “Uh, never mind. I can’t really tell.”
Yukio shoots him a glance, but Rin doesn’t elaborate.
“The pharmaceutics questions written on the back are probably from another exorcist.” Yukio turns to hold the paper up to the light. The paper itself is thin. These uneven edges on the left border must have been torn out from a notebook.
“It could also be from whoever used this office before Tou-san. Although, we found this inside Tou-san’s book, so that’s unlikely. I think this is an old edition…”
He looks up when Rin sets a hand on his shoulder. “What?”
“I thought of a way we’ll find out,” Rin declares, rolling up his sleeves. “We’ll make this for lunch! Let’s go!”
“Wait, I need to clean up the rest of…” Yukio nearly stumbles over a textbook when Rin drags him out of the office. “Fine. I guess there’s no harm, but I honestly don’t see how making the recipe will help us determine who wrote it.”
Rin just laughs.
Yukio follows a step after him, lost in thought. Warm sunshine falls in dappled patterns on the sidewalk as they head to the old dorm. The sheet of paper flutters in Rin’s careful grasp, held onto like something treasured.
While Rin retrieves ingredients from the fridge, Yukio reads over the practice questions written on the opposite side of the recipe. There’s nothing in particular to be gleaned from them, though he can tell that the one who wrote them was quite knowledgeable.
“Hey, look. This is funny.” Rin wipes a hand on his apron and points to the recipe. “Make sure to wash the rice,” he reads. “Don’t be lazy.”
Yukio tilts his head to look closer. There’s a small note written at the top. So that you can practice on your own too! “They must have been fairly close friends.”
“You know, I’ve never made fried rice with a recipe before,” Rin says. “I bet this person was trying to teach Tou-san when he was still a beginner.”
“Then, this would be from a long time ago…”
“Yeah.” Rin’s fingertips trail along the thin, steady handwriting as he reads the recipe again. “I figured it’d be from before we were born.”
Yukio glances up, catching only a glimpse of his smile before he turns back to the fridge.
Several months have passed since he declined Rin’s offer to see the past. In the end, it was only a means to distract himself. He’d been consumed by the need to unravel the events leading up to their birth, desperate to escape from himself.
Despite that, he can tell Rin has kept quiet because of his decision. Aside from a few fragments of stories that slip out at whim, Rin scarcely speaks of the past he saw or the people he must have met.
Glass jars clink together when the fridge door shuts. “Hey, Yukio.” Rin’s tail swishes cheerfully from side to side when he turns. “Do you want to learn how to make this?”
“No,” Yukio says. “I’m not interested.”
“Come on,” Rin insists. “This one’s easy! Look, all the ingredients have specific amounts. Fried rice is super easy! I swear! Besides, it’ll be fun. Right?”
Yukio makes the mistake of looking at his glimmering eyes and grimaces. He’s hardly ever this persistent.
“I guess I could try.” He pushes his sleeves up to wash his hands. “What do you want me to do?”
Rin beams, pumping a fist in the air. “Okay, so first, we’ll make eggs.” He makes a frantic, indecipherable hand gesture. “Then, we’ll take them out and cook green onions with the ham to bring out the flavor in them. Oh, but the eggs can’t be fully cooked before we add them back in. Also, the rice has to be…”
Yukio stares as Rin waves his hands back and forth. His tail keeps nearly brushing pots and bowls on the counter.
Although Rin’s instructions are a mess, once he starts cooking, he moves around the kitchen with impressive efficiency. As he shows Yukio various steps in the recipe, he points out several useful tips.
“When you’re cooking eggs, the oil in the pan has to be hot. So, we have to be patient,” Rin says while he tilts the pan to spread the oil around its edges.
“I see.” Yukio’s chopsticks click evenly as he beats the eggs. Their yolks are sunny orange and yellow in the blue ceramic bowl.
“Here, try it.” Rin hovers his hand above the pan. “You can tell when it’s hot enough like this.”
Yukio holds his hand out gingerly. “Okay.”
“You can stand a little closer, you know.” Rin snickers as he takes the eggs from Yukio. “Are you scared?”
Yukio’s eyebrow twitches, but the sizzle of eggs hitting hot oil scatters his focus. It’s such a nostalgic sound.
Rin keeps talking, laughing to himself about something in the recipe. His hands move with practiced ease as he nudges the eggs around the pan. It’s been a while since Yukio took the time to watch him cook. He seems to be having fun.
“You could make this on your own pretty easily.” Rin chops two stems of green onions and slides them off the edge of the knife. “If you have leftover rice, you can add whatever you have in the fridge.”
“That’s nice,” Yukio says, though he can’t quite imagine himself cooking anything edible.
Rin’s attention has returned to the recipe. It’s interesting. Yukio had thought he might forget their original objective. Even in the midst of his sudden decision to teach Yukio, he’s continued checking the recipe diligently.
Of course, the steps to making fried rice are likely rudimentary enough that Rin doesn’t need to check the instructions. This means something more to him.
Before Yukio can ponder it much further, the rice is complete.
Rin smiles and sets a pair of bowls down. “Hey, now you know how to make fried rice.” He turns to set the pot back on the stove. “I left Shura a bowl. Where’s Kuro?”
“Kuro was napping under my bed earlier,” Yukio says. “Shura-san sleeps in until noon some days.” He passes Rin a spoon as they both sit down.
Fragrant tendrils of steam rise from the rice. The grains are tinted golden brown, with a plentiful mix of meat and vegetables. It looks the same as how Rin usually makes it, plus or minus a few ingredients.
Rin scoots his chair closer with a grin. “Try it. Does it taste different?”
“Thanks,” Yukio says as Rin hands him a bowl. He lifts his spoon to his mouth and chews slowly. The eggs are fluffy, pairing well with the texture of the rice. Both are full of flavor from the green onions as well.
“It’s good,” Yukio says. “You should try it too.”
Rin eats a spoonful of rice. “Hold on.” His tail droops as all of his enthusiasm drains out of him. “It just… tastes the same.”
“It makes sense though. Tou-san taught you how to cook, and this person taught Tou-san.” Of course, they wouldn’t be able to glean anything from this. “It’s good though,” Yukio adds. “The thought was nice.”
Rin grumbles something before he goes back to eating. “I thought I’d be able to tell somehow.”
Yukio hesitates, chewing his rice carefully. It really is similar to what Rin always makes, and it reminds him of their father’s cooking.
The sound of rustling leaves flutters in through the window Yukio cracked open earlier. As they eat, Shura’s shuffling footsteps wander down the stairs. “Hey.” She yawns when she walks into the kitchen, running a hand backward through Rin’s hair. “What are you eating? It smells good.”
“Oh. We left some for you,” Rin says. “I just made it, so it’s still warm.”
“Cool, thanks. Scoot over, Yukio.”
Yukio glares when Shura’s elbow jabs his arm. “What?”
“What’s up with him?” Shura points her spoon at Rin. “You look all gloomy.”
Rin makes a face, shoveling a spoonful of rice into his mouth.
“We found a recipe in one of Tou-san’s old textbooks,” Yukio says. “Nii-san made this rice following its instructions. We wanted to know who wrote it.”
Shura snorts, reaching across the counter to snatch the recipe from Rin. “Why would you be able to tell who wrote it like that? Does it have some weird ingredient in it?”
“I didn’t necessarily think it’d work either, but Nii-san was determined to try.” Yukio pushes his glasses up. “So? Does the handwriting look familiar to you?”
“Nope.” Shura starts eating her rice, flipping the paper over to read the practice questions. “This seems like a lot of work. Shiro wasn’t really close to that many people. There’s only one person I can think of who’d do this.”
Rin’s head jerks up. “Wait, you know? Who is it?”
Shura takes an obnoxiously long moment to finish chewing. “Your mother.”
“Really?” Rin grins when he leans forward. “I knew once I saw it! Seriously!”
Yukio sighs, letting out the breath he was holding. “If you guessed from the beginning, I’m surprised you managed to keep quiet like that. I was worried when you were so disappointed.”
Rin laughs fondly. “Still, how’d you tell, Shura? Does it taste the same?”
Shura shrugs. “There’s no way I’d remember something from that far back. Although…” Gentle light from the kitchen window reflects in her eyes as she nudges her rice around. “This does remind me of the rice Yuri made. It was good. It felt like home.”
“Oh,” Rin says. “I get that.” His voice is quieter than usual, as if holding some words back in his throat.
Yukio glances at him, drawn in by the specks of recollection that move across his features. It’s simple to see through his intentions now.
This rice Rin made following their mother’s recipe is remarkably familiar. The thought of her has a sense of distance, yet he finds it comforting to know this was hers.
“Nii-san,” Yukio begins, “would you teach me how to make this again sometime?”
Rin blinks in surprise.
“I’d like to be able to make it,” Yukio says. It’s a decision he made without much thought, yet it’s nonetheless important to him.
“Okay, sure.” Rin throws an arm around his shoulders. “I’ll teach you as many times as you want. Next time, you can do everything, and I’ll just give you pointers.”
Shura stifles a laugh. “Aw, that’s sweet. Have fun keeping him from burning the kitchen down.”
“You could learn too, you know!”
“No way. I’m in charge of eating.”
Yukio smiles, setting a hand on the recipe when a breeze from the window lifts its corners. Beneath the last row on the page is a line written in small, hasty strokes. Let’s make ramen together next time!
Regardless of the recipe, the meals they have together are what feel like home to him. Perhaps their mother felt the same way.
He’d like to think so.