Takeru finished drying his hair and sat at the table, still stiff, posture perfect, gaze firm… but always glancing at Mei, like a tiny bodyguard. This was how he loved: silently, observing, unnoticed.
Harumi, full of excitement — and completely clueless about the culinary disaster she was about to unleash — rubbed her hands together.
"Alright! Dinner! What do you want to eat?"
Takeru didn't hesitate:
"Fried egg."
"Just an egg?"
"It's what Mom used to make."
Harumi froze for a second. The air felt a little heavier, but she blinked, took a deep breath, and gave a brave smile.
"Then tonight will be the best fried egg in the world."
Izumi put her hand on her face."Oh God… it's begun."
"Hey!" Harumi waved a spoon at her. "Respect the chef!"
"Chef?" Izumi crossed her arms. "You burned instant noodles last week."
"I was distracted! The water boiled too fast! Treachery!"
Mei laughed so loudly it echoed through the house. Takeru shot his sister a "don't laugh too loud" look — but even he seemed a little less tense seeing Harumi banging pots with zero elegance.
Harumi tied on an enormous, floral apron that seemed to swallow half her body. And so began a new mission — destined to become a new catastrophe.
"Operation Fried Egg, starting in three… two… one!"
She turned on the stove.
FWOOM.
The flame shot five centimeters higher than it should.
"AAAH!" Harumi jumped back. "This stove hates me."
"No, Haru," Izumi said calmly, chopping tomatoes like she'd survived the apocalypse. "It just has survival instincts."
Harumi huffed, grabbed the pan, and set it on the flame. Mei rested her chin on the table, swinging her legs up and down, watching as if it were the most beautiful show in the world.
"Smells good!" she murmured.
Harumi laughed, melting."And now… the secret seasoning of this house: joy and fat."
Izumi coughed."You mean butter, right?"
"Butter is solid joy!"
Harumi dropped a generous chunk of butter into the pan.
The sound went SCHHHHHHHHHHHH so loud Takeru jumped in his chair, sure something was about to explode.
"Harumi…" Izumi said cautiously. "Don't you think that's… too much butter?"
"Is that even possible?" Harumi asked innocently.
"Yes. When it looks like you're trying to fry an egg in a waterfall of oil."
Harumi ignored the warning and grabbed the egg.
She tapped it once on the pan's edge.Nothing.
Tapped again.Nothing.
"Wow, it's so cold the egg froze… haha!" she laughed nervously, trying not to look like an idiot.
Third time.
CRAC.
The egg split in her hand, sliding through her fingers.
"AAAAH! COLD! COLD! COLD!" Harumi shook her hand, yolk flying like a broken solar system.
Izumi closed her eyes, resigned."I already accepted it. The kitchen is your natural habitat. Shame you hunt the pots."
Takeru stared at Harumi with an expression impossible to read — half horror, half… tiny urge to laugh.
Mei, on the other hand, was having the time of her life."Again! Again!" she cheered.
"No!" Izumi and Takeru yelled in unison.
After four tries, three shell pieces in the pan, a small smoke cloud, and Harumi screaming "MY FRINGE!" finally…
Finally… an egg came out perfect. Golden, beautiful, shining. Even Izumi's eyes widened.
"Wait… wait… Haru… that one actually turned out GOOD."
"Told you!" Harumi raised her spatula like Excalibur. "I believe in my fried eggs."
Takeru tilted his head slightly — almost impressed. Almost. Harumi made two more, now overconfident — resulting in minor emotional burns and two more dirty pans. But what mattered was:
The food… was good. Miraculously good.
Harumi plated the warm rice, placed the eggs on top like presenting art, and pushed the dishes toward them.
"Tadaa! The best fried egg in the universe!"
Mei clasped her hands."Itadakimasu!!"
Takeru ate in silence. Bite after bite.
Izumi nudged Harumi."Haru… he's eating fast."
Harumi smiled."I know… I saw."
Mei laughed with pure joy."It's so tasty!!!" she shook her legs with delight, making the table tremble.
Takeru finally lifted his eyes."Yeah… good," he murmured.
Just two words. But from him?It was like a five-page essay. Harumi nearly burst with pride.
"See? I told you! Best fried egg in the world!"
Izumi smiled. Mei smiled. And Takeru… almost smiled. A tiny curve at the corner of his mouth, so subtle anyone could miss it. Except Harumi. She saw it. Her heart warmed softly, like it was hugging her chest.
When the plates were empty, and Mei had gone to brush her teeth with Izumi, Takeru set down his fork slowly.
"…Why are you doing this?"
Harumi blinked while washing dishes."Doing what?"
"This." He gestured at the food, the house, the smiling sister. "You don't know us."
Izumi stayed quiet. She could hear it since the downstairs bathroom had no door. Mei didn't hear.Even the wind outside seemed to pause. Harumi took a deep breath, rested her chin on her hand, and gave a warm, sweet smile.
"Because no one should have to be cold."
She shrugged, adjusting her fringe."And because the world's already kind of chilly, right? So… someone has to offer the blanket every now and then."
Takeru looked away. But a tiny spark appeared in his eyes — as small as the first flame of a fireplace.
A spark that said "thank you." Even without words. And so, that cold night, amid smoke, laughter, empty plates, and kitchen chaos…
Harumi's home was born. Not perfect. Not neat. Definitely not quiet. But warm. And alive. Just the way it needed to be.