[SERENADE OF STRATEGIES] - nishinosa oneshots book

Mochi Mochi Nosaka Mochi!

In the midst of a warm summer day, a cozy apartment situated in the heart of Tokyo finds respite from the heat through the gentle breeze of an air conditioner. The soothing hum of the cooling unit fills the space, bringing comfort to the two boys who were standing in the kitchen: thanks to the cool breeze, potted japanese aucuba dance with grace, their delicate yellow-dotted green leaves swaying in response to the subtle currents. It was nice to relax this way, finding solace in the culinary arts, especially after years of seeking revenge on a society that had wronged the both of them; the air hung heavy with warmth, carrying whispers of cicadas that permeated the city's ambiance, as sunlight streamed through the gossamer curtains, casting a golden glow that painted the room in a tapestry of ethereal hues. Nosaka always desired to cook mochis, yearning go create something delicate and delightful; he loved food and, the very thought of molding the sticky rice dough into whimsical, silly bunny shapes, filled his heart with an uncontainable joy. However, the confines of his life at the foster home had always prevented him from pursuing this culinary dream: rules and restrictions governed the foster home where he lived's kitchen, leaving Nosaka with limited access to the space he so desperately desired. However, he once more found solace in his best friend, who proposed him to use his apartment to cook since his mother was going to be away due to work, and who wouldn't have jumped on the occasion, honestly? So, today his focus was devoted to the delicate artistry of crafting those sticky rice cakes which held a special place in japanese culture, shaping them with delicate precision in bunny-like firms, each stroke of his hands an expression of his passion and meticulousness. Nishikage, usually a bastion of indifference and composure, found himself ensnared by his friend's culinary performance, considering that he was following a tutorial on the internet, it was almost (it was Nosaka, after all) impressive seeing how nimbly he was orienting himself in the kitchen, always keeping everything in order as a form of respect for his mother, who would surely come back tired. With each measured ingredient and each rhytmic motion of his hand, his reserved demeanor melted away, replaced by an uncharacteristic sparkle in his eyes. The transformation was subtle yet profound, like a shy blossom unfolding its petals to reveal its true beauty. While his nature remained calm and serene, a quiet excitement simmered beneath fhe surface, infusing his every movement with a sense of purpose and delight. Nishikage's gaze was fixed upon Nosaka's every move, his eyes tracing the graceful arcs and deft touches that brought the mochis to life; it was as if Nosaka's essence was infused into each adorable bunny shape, radiating an otherworldly beauty that stirred a tumultuous maelstrom within Nishikage's chest. With each perfected rice cake that emerged from his friend's nimble fingers, his mind was sent spiraling into disarray. Panic and fluster took hold as he beheld the uncanny resemblance between the confectionary creations and Nosaka himself. The gentle curves of the bunnies echoed the tender softness of his demeanor, while their vibrant colors reflected the hidden depths of his enigmatic gaze. In the hushed symphony of the kitchen, Nishikage's mind conjured visions of his friend, his reserved nature, and his empty, dull grey eyes captured in the very essence of these bunny mochis, which with their irresistible charm, mirrored the allure of Nosaka's presence. The way their plump bodies curved, evoking a sense of comfort and warmth, resonated with Nishikage's late night thoughts of what if would've been to sleep in his embrace. The vibrant hues of the mochis also carried significance in his mind, because the playful pastels mirrored the subtle shades of his personality, his quiet demeanor emanating a warmth that drew Nishikage like a moth to a flame. Each shade evoked a different facet of their connection— the rosy cheeks reminiscent of Nosaka's small and at times shy smile, the gentle, serene white reflecting the calmness that settled over them in moments of silence and the purity of their bond. Usually someone would just brush these thoughts off and realize that it was a tad silly to be so embarrassed over how some cute rice cakes remind you of your closest friend, but Nishikage's cheeks flushed a gentle shade of pink as the weight of his own emotions threatened fo suffocate him, leaving him has ping for air in the midst of his inner turmoil. The bittersweet agony of his unrequited affection mingled with the intoxicating scent of freshly cooked mochis, casting a spell of torment and longing over his vulnerable heart: he truly loved Nosaka, didn't he? To the point where the smallest things about him embarassed him, thanks to his usual overthinking. Lost in his labyrinth of yearning, he started to struggle to discern where reality ended and his fantasies began. His mind became a kaleidoscope of fragmented thoughts, each one bearing the imprint of his longing for Nosaka. The overwhelming urge to finally confess his feelings consumed him, yet fear held him captive, a cruel captor that robbed him of his voice. In the midst of this emotional, awkward chaos, as Nishikage teetered on the precipice of his own heart, Nosaka, ever attuned to his unspoken emotions, gently pressed a freshly crafted bunny mochi against the other's flushed cheek; the cold sensation jolted him from the depths of his panicked thoughts, grounding him in the present moment, but yet he could stop thinking about how those mochis truly resembled him, because the soft, pillowy texture of that delicacy served as a tender reminder of Nosaka's caring nature, a gesture that spoke volumes in the absence of words. As his startled gaze met the other's empty, yet somehow captivating grey eyes, a flicker of understanding passed between them: in that moment, Nishikage realized that Nosaka, the quiet observer, had witnessed the tempest if emotions raging within him, however he didn't comment on that, which was very usual for Nosaka, and he was glad he was like this. In that moment, as the taste of the mochi lingered on his lips, he resolved to find the courage to speak the language of his heart, knowing that Nosaka's gentle presence would guide him through the labyrinth of his own fears as always. However, as Nosaka eagerly awaited Nishikage's feedback on the mochis, a moment of panic gripped his heart, as that internal turmoil of his intensified, his mind racing through a whirlwind of emotions, his cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and anticipation, his heart pounding like the frantic beat of a Taiko drum.

"You're adorable, Nosaka-san." In that fleeting instant, Nishikage's voice betrayed him, the words slipping out before he could catch them. The air seemed to freeze, time standing still as those words hung in the space between them, Nishikage's mind raced, panic surging through his veins like a lightning bolt. As he anxiously awaited Nosaka's response, Nishikage's gaze flickered between their eyes, searching for any hint of acknowledgement. The seconds stretched into eternity, each passing moment amplifying his inner turmoil. Did Nosaka understand the weight between those words? Was he aware of the vulnerability they revealed? Nishikage's heart swayed between hope and trepidation, like a tightrope walker navigating a precarious path.

"Thanks." And then, as if the universe held its breath, Nosaka's reaction unfolded, a flicker of surprise danced across his features, quickly replaced by a serene calmness that seemed to radiate from within, luckily enough there was no sign of discomfort or avoidance, and that was what mattered to him. With that simple word, he had broken the silence between them, and in that moment, Nishikage felt a wave of relief wash over him, like a cool breeze on a sweltering summer day.