Cooking With Memories~

Dusk had filled the day, telling the sun to go to sleep for a bit. A lone teenager walked the cobblestoned street, heading for home. Said teenager, by the name of Fubuki Shirou, sighed. 'What a day...' Fubuki thought, tiredly. He ran a hand through his silver, spiky hair and continued walking towards home. He had just gotten done practicing with his teammates when they decided to call it a night. He was beyond tired though. The new Hissatsu he was working on was beyond draining. He sighed again, and shifted his hand in his pockets, searching for his keys. He was alone nowadays, since his family passed in a horrific accident, but he's gotten used to it- coming home to an empty, dark house. But he was looking forward to it- he could go home and watch old videos that he took over the summer with his friends, and make a small homemade meal. A meal that his mom had taught him. I mean, Shirou would totally be the cook of the house if his family was still alive. Hell, even if Atsuya was still alive... Shirou's face fell as he stopped in front of his apartment. He was overthinking and needed to stop. He sighed once more, and pulled his keys out of his pockets before jamming them into the keyhole and twisting- successfully opening his front door. He then stepped inside, and took off his shoes- a while setting his soccer stuff down. He'd get it later....

Wonderful smells had filled Fubuki's nose as he cooked. It was about eight o'clock at night but he didn't really care. He always made room to cook. It was one of the few things, outside of soccer, that brought him joy. And even though the kitchen was small, it was warm and bright. And it was full of life. But, that's how Fubuki cooks- He's always smiling, dancing, singing, and just generally bringing life into his kitchen. He could be himself here. Outside on the field, he'd constantly battle himself- trying to fend off Atsuya so he wouldn't completely take over, a while trying to make it look like he was fine. It took everything he had to try and be normal so he could still be of use to the team. So he could score and bring joy to his teammates. He loved seeing their smiles...

He'd normally overexert himself because of these reasons, and he'd always come home exhausted, slightly broken, and mentally drained. But, he'd always come out of it. He returned to his normal, kind self. But, only after cooking, and re-watching videos of him and his friends. He tried not to think about it, but old memories were a pain. They just wouldn't go away! So, every night he'd laid there, in his bed, thinking of old memories of him and his family. All the things he and his family did. All the laughter and joy they had before they were ripped away from him. Most of his memories consisted of Atsuya and him. Playing soccer, snowboarding, building igloos and snowmen or having snowball fights. They were mostly happy memories, I mean, they had an occasional fight but other than that, he and Atsuya got along like any pair of twins would. They were practically inseparable! But there were a few things that he and Atsuya did separately.

Atsuya had always been more partial towards their dad, because their dad was down with rough housing. Shirou, however, always drifted closer to their mother. That's where he learned how to cook. A joy that would later help him in the long run. And right now, he was cooking one of her famous dishes; rice curry with a hint of cinnamon in it. And oh god did he love this dish. He literally cooked it whenever he got the chance. He finally finished cooking it and was now preparing to eat. He grabbed his spoon, scooped some into his spoonl, and raised it towards his mouth. He stopped midway though, and sighed contently. This was the only way he could remember them without hurting. He then smiles, and raises the spoon to his mouth. A small, content hum is produced as he eats. He'd never stop making this. It was too perfect- it had just the right spice to it, and then the sweet after taste was heavenly. He'd make this till the day he died, one because he loved the taste and two because he could remember his family without feeling miserable or negative or anything like that.

He then finished up, grabbed his dirty dishes and headed for the sink. He washed them off and placed them in the dishwasher, a while humming one of his favorite songs. After he finished that, he dried his hands off, and looked up at the clock; 10:43 pm. Maybe he should sleep now... He then headed for his bedroom, and shut the door- indicating he was done for the night. He stopped at his bedside, and looked down at the photograph that was sitting in a sleek, black frame on his bedside drawer. He smiled, and jumped into bed. 'Goodnight guys... See you tomorrow...' He thought, before drifting to sleep.

The picture framed hadn't moved, but there was a shining moment where it glimmered for a few seconds before settling back down. 'Night buddy... Sleep well sweetheart..... Oi, Aniki, you fell asleep in your clothes again!' He had heard their voices as he slept, and a small smile crept onto his face. Tomorrow will be a good day, he just knew it..... Especially if he made rice curry again.