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Every business, Osamu thinks, has days they don't like. For the old shopkeeper across Onigiri Miya, it's Tuesdays, for the young florist next to his store, it's Fridays, for the middle-aged bookstore seller two stores to his left, it's Wednesdays.
For Onigiri Miya, it's Thursdays.
From a business perspective, everything seems to go wrong on Thursdays. Either a delivery gets postponed, a dish runs out of ingredients, the customers aren't there, or it's just a slow day.
From a personal perspective, Osamu has always had a love-hate relationship with Thursdays. Love, because he was born on a Thursday and graduated high school on a Thursday, and hate because his first Onigiri Miya opening was inundated with rain on a Thursday, and his apartment had flooded with water the next Thursday.
Today, too, seemed to be one of those Thursdays. Not the good ones, but the hateful, bad ones. The heavens had opened just after Osamu had opened his shop, their cashier had told him she couldn't make it because she lived too far away, and one of the shipments of vegetables was soaked through with water, rendering it useless. That was a loss of ¥16000, delivery charges not included.
Business was slow as well, like it always was on a rainy day, with two to three customers coming in per three hours. Most of them were the ones who lived nearby, so Osamu made chit-chat with them about the weather, the roads, the flowers, anything that suited their fancy. Before leaving, Mrs. Kanazawa gave Osamu her secret recipe to make perfect gyoza every time, with him trying to remember every bit of it.
"Please come again," he told the group, bowing to them in thanks, before taking a quick break to check in with the kitchen. Everything seemed to be going as well as it could back there, with both of the cooks humming to themselves while making the dishes.
Oto let him taste the soup, to which he added a pinch of salt, and told Akio to shape the onigiris a little firmer. He reminded them to take a break if needed, adding that there wouldn't be many customers because of the rain.
Back at the front desk, Osamu leans against the wall and checks his phone. There's a few business emails, a few junk emails, a reminder that he needs to pay for his Spotify subscription, and nothing else. His social media is dry, too, discounting the group chat. Then he gets the following message in his inbox:
Asswipe: I'll be visitin in 10
Asswipe: I'll be bringing Rin
If he didn't hate Thursdays before, he really, really did now.
With a sigh, Osamu goes back inside, sends Akio to the front desk, ties an apron to his waist, and tells Oto to help him make a meal. "My brother'll be visiting," he tells her, watching her slowly reach a conclusion.
"Let's start with the rice," Oto says, hands already moving towards the tin.
Osamu smiles, knowing that he can count on her.
This habit of him making food for Atsumu had never really gone away, whether it be because their parents weren't home or because Atsumu wanted to eat something or as a meal to make up to each other after a fight.
He still remembers the first thing he ever fed Atsumu from scratch: a bowl of egg fried rice, topped with lots of scallions to taste. He followed that up with a glass noodle salad, topping that one with black and white sesame.
"D'ya like it?" he asked with a smile, to which the then thirteen year old Atsumu replied that he did. "I've never eaten anything better in my life!" he said, licking the bowl afterwards.
Osamu started cooking for him then on, then for him and Rintarou, then for the team, on their demand.
It's why, he thinks, cooking for others comes naturally to him: because Atsumu always been there, asking if he has something new to try, giving him the feedback and the courage to go on. (He won't ever tell Atsumu this though, of course not. Sibling secrets or something.)
At half past one, when the bell chimes, Osamu knows that Atsumu stepped foot into his shop. Indeed, there's no mistaking those voices: one loud, but not brash, the other quiet, but focused on the conversation. He thinks he hears one more voice, but the rain stops him from confirming that.
Then the man himself comes on over, greeting Osamu and Oto. He doesn't step into their space, however, since he wasn't allowed to. "Chefs only," Osamu had warned him once, with a stare so deadly and a knife so sharp that Atsumu didn't dare disobey him.
"Is there someone with you?" Osamu asks, his hands expertly crafting the glass noodles.
"Only Rin and Omi-kun," Atsumu replies, leaning against the doorframe.
"Omi…"
That's when Osamu's eyes go wide.
"You brought Sakusa Kiyoomi with you?!" Oto exclaims, channelling Osamu's shock.
"Yeah, we're teammates, remember?"
"I remember that," he says, glaring at Atsumu. "But ya didn't tell me beforehand, and I don't even know what he likes!" he adds, swallowing his anger.
"Relax, just get him what you get us. He'll eat anything you make anyway," Atsumu says reassuringly, beckoning Osamu to come to him.
Osamu rolls his eyes, but walks to where Atsumu is anyway. His brother gives him a polite hug, one hand slung over his shoulder, and the other patting his back. When he lets go, Osamu tells him that he regrets telling him anything in the first place.
"I'm the best wingman ya got," Atsumu says, smiling from ear to ear.
Osamu shakes his head, smiling along with his stupid ass brother. He doesn't know how Atsumu figured it out (the guy once said 2x2 was equal to 6, so he knew Rin had a hand in it), but when Atsumu asked him that question, Osamu could only stand in silence, the answer written all over his face.
"Go sit," he tells Atsumu now, shooing him away. "I'll whip something up for Omi, then serve all of ya together."
"Yes, chef," Atsumu says in return, dodging the bowl that Osamu threw in his direction.
"Okay, okay," Osamu says to himself, taking a deep breath or two. He instructs Oto to make three cups of tea, two with two teaspoons of sugar and one without, and runs through every recipe he's ever known. "Arrange it like a triangle," he adds. "And serve Omi's first."
She follows his orders, boiling the water as he settles on a recipe—one that Kita-san's grandmother taught him to make. "Hand me a non-stick pan, tomatoes, carrots, tofu, ginger, garlic and pepper, please," he says. "We're gonna make summer visit us again!"
Oto chuckles at his statement, helping him with his task.
Thirty minutes later, Oto and Osamu bring trays of food to Atsumu's table. He says hi to Kiyoomi, who nods and makes brief eye contact with him, the tips of his ears turning red, then proceeds to keep the plates on the table.
"Enjoy your meal," he tells them as he and Oto bow, with him motioning towards Akio to join them in the kitchen.
Osamu heaves a sigh when he sits down on a chair near the backdoor of the kitchen, hoping that Kiyoomi likes his food. There's always the question of him not doing so, even if Atsumu said otherwise. Either way, "It's time for a break," he tells them both. "Make a meal for yourselves, take whatever you need from the pantry. I'll take over the counter."
"What about you?" Akio asked, crossing his arms.
"I'll eat later, but I can use a cup of green tea and a plate of manju for now."
They nod, with Akio reaching for the kettle and Oto walking into the pantry.
Osamu sighs again, feeling like he's aged ten years in ten minutes, and makes his way back to the counter. He glances at his brother, Rin and Kiyoomi (but more so at Kiyoomi) while playing sudoku on his phone, gauging each of their reactions.
So far, it seems like everything's going well. Kiyoomi's going back for seconds, much like his brother and Rin, and the plates of food in front of them are disappearing fast.
Eventually, the three of them finish their meal as Osamu finishes his black tea. Atsumu skips over to the counter, hands in his pockets, and leans over to tell Osamu the verdict he's been waiting for.
"He liked it," Atsumu says, a serene smile on his face. "Finished everything on his plate, even stole some from mine."
Osamu sighs in relief, mustering a tiny smile. The anxiety that had been holding him by his throat could finally fuck off. "Did he say anything else?"
"Not yet, but he never does. He's never been a words typa guy, you know that."
"Of course," he says, eyes briefly falling on the man in question, who had his mask back on, before returning to his brother. "So how're ya going back?"
"Taxi. Omi-kun suggested that we walk, but Rin and I refused, so Rin booked a taxi."
Osamu nods, noticing Atsumu stealing one of his manju. "You just finished eating, asshat," he says, as Atsumu walks away with his steal. "Oi! Pay me, you thieving bastard!"
"Later t'you too, 'Samu!" Atsumu yells back, taking Rintarou's outstretched hand.
Osamu watches them leave, shaking his head, only one thought running through his mind: Kiyoomi liked his food. His heart leaps and jumps in joy at that, his lips curl up into a grand smile without him even trying. He could even break out in song, if someone asked him to, he feels so happy.
However, Akio and Oto's voices remind him that his day isn't over yet, and it won't be for a while, so he clears his throat, munches on a manju, and carries on, as if dopamine's not rushing through his veins.
The rest of the afternoon and much of the evening, though, is slow. Although the rain has let up, there's hardly any customers coming in, and even fewer people walking by. Their usual rush hour of five to seven in the evening is absent, save for two of the regulars.
It's a quiet affair when all three of them—Osamu, Oto and Akio—have dinner at eight pm, and it gets even quieter when the two leave, each with a tupperware box that contains leftovers from today. Oto bids him a good night before she joins her partner, and Oto does the same, riding his bicycle away into the night.
Osamu locks up the backdoor, the pantry, the kitchen, and the shop, and makes his way upstairs, to his moderately-sized apartment. As soon as he steps foot inside, a great wave of exhaustion overcomes him, but he drinks two tall glasses of water, and does his night routine.
It's close to ten pm when he goes to bed, the alarm on his phone already set for 5:30am, 6am, 6:30am and 7am. The alarm on his clock is set for 5:30 as well, like it always is, even though he ends up waking up at 6 most of the time.
His mind is blissfully blank tonight, except for one montage playing over and over again: when he said hi to Kiyoomi as he served their meal. Or, more specifically, the way Kiyoomi couldn't meet his eyes, and the way the tips of his ears turned red.
With that montage in mind, Osamu finally lets the exhaustion win, resulting in a dreamless sleep.
However, before he drifts off, he realises one small thing: maybe Thursdays aren't so bad, after all.