Yamamoto took a deep breath when he jumped out of the plane, sweet volutes of smoke coming out of his mouth as he adjusted his scarf, the cold fresh air of Namimori tingling his lungs.
He smiled to himself, delighted to be back, his bag on his shoulder as he walked again on the ground of his homeland, he hadn’t seen a real winter for years since he moved to Italy, not that he really minded as he wasn’t never fond of chilly weather.
He remembered the number of the bus he was supposed to took, right in front the airport, a goofy smile painting his lips as he blinked nostalgically to each details flowing under his exhausted hues, it was like if he had never left.
Soon, they were out the suburbs surrounding the city, the downtown already far away, when he came to his sens, he was the only one sitting on the dusty seats now, hoping they didn’t cut the line so he doesn’t have to walk much longer than planned.
When he arrived at the foot of the mountain, he took a look behind him, the red lighting bulbs fainting in the scenery, his eyes fell on the road which had not been maintained for a long time.
His usual gentle smile still on his face, he then faced the congested path he used to take so often when he was a child, the ascent began and he couldn’t turn away until he had reach the top, not that he really thought it was a possibility when he came back here.
The cloudy sky adorning a milky color threatened to strike and Yamamoto kept climbing between the bushes and trees, his fingers turning red, his knuckles white by dit of blowing on, he didn’t mind, not paying attention at anything but his goal.
When he reached a platform half way, he sat on the nearest rock, opening his bag to gulp down a bottle of water, he squinted toward the city, filled with crowded streets and flashing lights, his hands brushed against the box of homemade cookies at the bottom of his bag and he let his delightful smile come back.
-
«D-dont do that ! Put that bowl down or you’re going to ..!»
The clattering noise echoed in the house as the bowl full of flour crashed on the ground, breaking probably one or two tiles in the process, a thick cloud of white powder emerged in the whole kitchen as the three hosts coughed from the bottom of their lungs, moving their arms with the hope to dispel the dust, in vain.
Tsuyoshi was the first to react, opening the window quickly as he expeled everything, an irritated sigh slipped past his mouth, he turned slowly a murderous aura around him, and by his glare, the remaining flour wasn’t the only thing he will oust out of his territory.
Oh yes, he should have been frightening, could have, if he wasn’t covered in white from head to toe, dust painting his skin and coating his jet black hair up behind his traditional headband.
«What the two of you were doing in MY kitchen exactly? Y-you s-stop laughing you!
- Mah-Mah Tsuyoshi, why the long face, we were just making cookies for Christmas, your son wanted to make you a little gift for when you’ll get home after the service, however, we didn’t expect you this soon..»
He picked up the dangerous pieces of glass on the ground, setting it into the trash, far away from his beloveds, with a slight pout and a well hidden blush, he crossed the room, his frown brushed away as he holded them in his arms, no more perceptible hint of anger sticking to his mind.
The clock on the wall told him he was already late for his night shift preparations, with a reluctant sigh, his eyes landed on two big honey hues and he pointed the tip of his finger toward the nose of his 4 years old son a star-shaped cookie in hand, he emphasised,
«YOU, be careful with ustensils and YOU both better make the best cookies I ever eaten!»
He ruffled Takeshi’s hair, pecking his wife on the lips as he rushed to the door
«AND I WANT MY KITCHEN BRIGHT AND SHINY FOR TOMORROW!»
-
A dropplet of water ran on his split chin, and Yamamoto wipe it off with a laugh at the memory, before putting his bottle of water back in his sport bag, yep, those biscuits were definitely bad, but he remebered that his dad ate them all until the last crumb.
It became a tradition and each year, they made Christmas cookies together, trying not to transform the house into a North Pole battlefield.
As he took the road again, the first snowflakes began to dance around him, ephemeral unique forms crushing on his shoulders, the ground seemed inclined to accept the delicate layer and the young man quicken his pace.
He was tempted to pull out his tongue and catch one or two, but the silly idea was quickly replaced when the top of the hill came into view, Yamamoto closed his eyes in enticipation, he then mounted the last few feet which separated him from the place of the last goodbye given to his mother.
Takeshi’s heart tightened up when he spotted the back of an old man at the edge of the cliff, he was contemplating the silent landscape displaying his beauty in front of him, from this spot, the quintessence of the entire valley in which he has always lived could be caught in one single glance.
At the soundless step behind him, the grey hair man, bite his lips, releasing a nostalgic tear he couldn’t, didn’t want to, hold back.
The younger of the both stood without a word next to his father, a box nicely wrapped in his hands, he let out a comforting sigh, his eyes on the wonderful scenery.
Directing it to the other man, Tsuyoshi thanked him with a smile, pulling on the red ribbon slowly, with a muffled sound, he cracked open the case, an amused eyes covering the contents as he pulled out a star-shaped biscuit that he hastened to bring to his mouth.
