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Osomatsu and Co.

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He’s sure if he were to use the term “sensual decadency cloaked in a sweetness to rival the fragrance of the brightest summer flower” in common conversation he would be made to sleep under the floorboards. But Karamatsu finds it the perfect descriptor. So he has it memorized for whenever he next sees an opportunity.

Contrary to some of his other brothers, Kara rather likes chocolate on the regular. It’s smooth and dark and it’s one of his secret favourites.

Today he lays on his back in the living room. His arms are crossed behind his head and he bounces one leg where he has it thrown over the other, thinking about how much he could really go for some chocolate.
He’s not particularly hungry. They’d all woken up late that morning, and so he’d had a very late breakfast. But although his stomach is satisfied, his mouth waters for the taste he can so rapturously imagine on his tongue.

Waxing about chocolate in one’s mind, Karamatsu thinks, is a very poetic way to pass the time.
But it’s not particularly helpful when it’s almost lunchtime and one’s mother is out running errands.

In a sudden burst of productivity, he decides to make his dream a reality.

He bolts to his feet, startling Todomatsu and Choromatsu where they’re sitting at the table, and darts into the kitchen to peruse the cupboards.

The first thing he finds is a cookbook. Luckily so, since he’d been prepared to throw together anything he could find to fulfil his goal. And past experiences should have warned him that such frivolity in the kitchen is never a good idea if you want to actually consume something.

He finds himself a nice recipe and returns to the cupboards with a little more caution, carefully picking out bowls and ingredients when he comes across them.

With everything set up, he sets himself to work.

The brothers watching him from the living room appear greatly perturbed. Choromatsu and Todomatsu are no strangers to Karamatsu’s odd behavioural patterns.
The most passionate sextuplet’s one-track mind had never led him to the kitchen, however. And with this particular brother’s history of bad luck, one is bound to worry about one’s living arrangements if he suddenly decides he wants to play with sharp and hot things.

As Kara whips up an egg mixture in a bowl, his two-brother audience becomes four. Ichimatsu and Jyushimatsu crowd the door upon noticing the odd occurrence, still sweaty and dirty from Jyushi’s practicing. It’s as Karamatsu is organising some dirtied bowls and utensils in a neat stack that the group by the door is finally joined by the eldest.

“What’s going on here?” Osomatsu asks jovially, peering over Ichimatsu’s shoulder, “Did you guys all make Karamatsu cook you something? That’s super mean!”

“Karamatsu Nii-san just started doing this.” Todomatsu looks up at him. “We don’t know what he’s making.”

“Cookies…” At everyone’s look, Ichimatsu mumbles “He’s set up a tray, look. If it were a cake or something it would be a cake tin. What else could he be making?” Not a word more is spoken as the party’s attention is snatched by the sound of a bag tearing open.

A moment of deliberation halts him as Karamatsu looks at the bag in his hand. The others don’t have time to wonder over his hesitation before the moment is immediately abandoned, the man up-ending the package over the mixing bowl. The eyes of his audience sparkle as a regular smorgasbord of chocolate chips descend from it like tiny chocolate angels.

With most of the bag gone, Karamatsu stares into his mixture with a sly smirk. A flourish of his wrist brandishes the wooden spoon the other brothers would swear he’d put down somewhere, and he folds the dough over and over in the bowl until he’s satisfied with the chocolate’s distribution.

It’s only now, as he’s looking around for a method of constructing the cookies, that he notices his brothers watching him.

“Ah.” He looks surprised, but not displeased. “I’m sure you’re all eagerly waiting for the cookies to be done. I should have them ready soon! Or at least…” He eyes the bowl in front of him again, gaze flicking to the tray he’d prepared. “…The first batch? I didn’t expect this much to come from the recipe…”

“I’ll help you, Nii-san.” Everyone at the door has to blink to adjust their unwavering stare to the new speaker. Choromatsu gets up and retrieves an ice-cream scoop from a drawer, proudly holding it out to his baking brother. “In a manga I read, the heroine used this to measure scoops equally. So this should help a little.”

“The recipe says to measure the cookies with tablespoons…” Karamatsu glances at the book, but gives Choromatsu a brilliant smile. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t have cookies big enough for our big hearts! Thank you, my Choromatsu!”

The younger rolls his eyes but returns the smile as he pulls the tray towards him.

“You’ll need to space them out more than the recipe says, then.” Todomatsu calls from the doorway. “If you put them too close together they’ll stick, so- Oh let me come help.”

With three brothers pottering in the kitchen, those who remain by the door can only try to hold in their drool as batch after batch sends waves of delicious chocolate and crispy, biscuit-y scent rolling from the oven. And when the time comes that all the dough has depleted, every stomach in the house is grumbling despite having eaten only a short while earlier.

Karamatsu looks triumphantly at his creation, looking and smelling so appetizing as it cools on the kitchen table. Such a glorious chocolate feast… He was slightly worried his enthusiasm with the chocolate chips wouldn’t keep the cookies together.

Between the biscuit in each cookie lay a cemented layer of chocolate, some crispy from being exposed to the air, others oozing into chocolate pools through the cracks. But Karamatsu decides, a sentiment silently shared with the other men looking hungrily at the spread before them, that he doesn’t quite care if they hold together. So long as he can eat them as soon as possible.

Another moment passes, and Karamatsu feels eyes on him. He glances up at the faces surrounding him, silently asking for permission.
He swells with pride at being the authority over his cookies. And he decides right that moment that he will be baking a lot more often.

“Alright then, my brothers.” He spreads his arms almost as wide as his blinding smile, “Let’s eat!

He has to scramble to grab a few handfuls of cookies in the explosion of crumbs that follows his announcement. But the sensation of warm, melty goodness seeping over his tongue has him weak at the knees. And hearing the delighted sounds of his brothers enjoying the treat lights a bright flame in his chest.

He licks his fingers of some escaping chocolate. He will definitely be baking again.