"𝐖𝐡𝐲 𝐝𝐨 𝐈 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬?" - 𝐊. 𝐁𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐠𝐨
𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐨: This story is Slowburn, follows a couple of months after the epilogue and is accurate/realistic.
WARNING: My writing style is very detailed, so if you aren't into d...
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-2nd person pov-
October 26th, Thursday - 6:53 pm
It had been about twenty minutes since your brother Hasuke got dragged into helping with the dinner prep thanks to a firm yank on his ear.
Even though he was almost an adult, he still acted like the typical rebellious teenage boy.
But come on, his teenage stubbornness wasn't really a good reason to ignore his responsibilities.
It felt pretty weird that he would skip out on family tasks to play drums when he had band practice with his friends almost every day of the week.
I mean, that should be enough for any aspiring musician, right?
You get his love for drumming, but it was unusual to see him ignore Mom, especially knowing how cranky she could get when annoyed.
Meanwhile, the atmosphere at the dinner table was buzzing with light chatter.
You, your brother, and your mom were sharing smiles and small talk, enjoying the dinner aesthetic.
Just then, your dad came in, carrying a massive platter of crispy tonkatsu, the golden breaded pork cutlet steaming and perfectly sliced, filling the air with a comforting, savory aroma.
He set the impressive dish down at the center of the table and took his seat next to your mom.
The dining table was a sight to see, packed with a beautifully arranged spread: tonkatsu, a bowl of steaming white rice, miso soup giving off a soft umami scent, gyoza stacked neatly on a bamboo tray, a vibrant sunomono cucumber salad, and your favorite mac and cheese with a bubbly top sitting proudly among the Japanese dishes.
As you took a deep breath, the warm and inviting blend of dinner aromas—soy, broth, toasted breadcrumbs, and creamy cheese—made your stomach rumble with excitement.
"This smells great," you said, feeling your eyes light up.
"That's because I made it," your mom shot back, grinning with pride and just a touch of playful mischief.
She adjusted a serving bowl and nudged it toward you, while your dad reached across the table to pass Hasuke a pair of chopsticks.
With a sigh and a bit of eye-rolling, your brother accepted them, mumbling something under his breath that made your mom laugh.
Once everyone settled in, your dad said a few light, casual words to kick off the evening—nothing formal, just a warm comment about the food looking amazing and how nice it was to all be together again.
