Curry Udon

“Are you working tonight?” Juurou asked him. He’d only been half awake on the car journey home, Yomi had expected him to fall asleep as soon as they got home.
“I have a meeting.”
“With Orange?”

Juurou had worked out his involvement with Orange fairly quickly. Their sudden change in directives lined up with Yomi taking another nondescript part-time job. They went from a load of kaiju shouting on street corners to a serious political movement. One that held meetings with politicians. One that “consulted” with the local police to tackle discrimination issues.

Yomi poured the water into the pot, clicking the flames on to bring it to a boil.
“I’m bringing some snacks for everyone. There’s some dough in the drawer.” Telling him so was enough for Juurou to get it for him, setting the bowl on the counter beside him. It was also enough for him to start shaping and flattening the dough. Yomi mixed the roux in adding the rest of the liquid ingredients along with it was the water started to boil. The sauce steadily forming to a warm brown.

“There has been a lot of kaiju interference recently,” Juurou said, setting the circles of dough down on the tray as he flattened them.
“Ah,” Yomi nodded as he stirred the sauce. “Things are starting to get serious, aren’t they?”
“That kaiju that you sent us after. When we got there, she’d been waiting for us. She’d gotten some of her friends to come help.”

It only made sense. They didn’t have the luxury of “mooks”; the best they could offer was some minor kaiju that were simply not as strong as the main event. But minor kaiju were hard to come by and it made sense that people reacted to danger by seeking out strong people to help them. In the end, they’d somewhat underestimated what they were up against.

Yomi scraped the potatoes into the pot.

“Everyone is starting to suspect that there’s been a leak in information.”
“I know,” Yomi smiled. “They told me.”

He subtly gestured to the Icarus mark on his stomach. These sorts of conversations tended to enter the mind link before they’d reach Juurou’s ears.

Juurou shifted awkwardly.

“If they told you, that means they’re not suspicious of you,” Yomi assured him. The benefits of the mind link were that no one was ever suspicious of him. As far as they were concerned, he was an open book, accidentally sending things into the mind link rather than just thinking them.

Lately, Akira had been warning him against fawning over Juurou so much.

Juurou leaned his head against Yomi’s back, his weight surprisingly light. Yomi hadn’t thought anything of it when they were younger, but as they’d “grown up”, he’d realised most humans don’t get lighter when they’re sad or stressed.

He pushed it to the back of his mind, as he always did.

“If you like, you could tell them the truth.”
Juurou shook his head against his back. It was an empty suggestion anyway.

He wasn’t meant to show his true colours until the last thirty percent.

“Are you going to betray me, Yomi?”

He added the rest of the vegetables now that the potatoes were starting to soften. He had to cut everything especially small for fitting in the pockets, so they’d at least cook fast.

“I’m always on your side, Juurou,” Yomi reached back, hands barely able to brush through the soft locks of Juurou’s hair. The first few touches, they seemed to go missing, but a few seconds later his fingers were practically tangled in them. “I’m here to support you over everyone else.”
“Yomi.”

A hand was reaching for his chin. He sidestepped, letting Juurou stumble.
“Tarou! Do you want to test the curry?”
“Yay!”