Disclaimer: Shaman King is, understandably, not mine.

The Beauty of Silence — Chapter 22

Valentine's Day was supposed to be a day of love, the special chance for both parties of a couple to demonstrate their deep affection for each other. Supposed, for the occasion was long ruined by becoming, like many other festivals, too commercialised. Firms cashed in on the day by offering gifts that hold nearly no practical purposes, mostly in stereotypical colours of red, white and pink. Well, that would usually be the case if their targeted consumer base consisted of normal girl-boy couples. Which made gift shopping a whole lot more impossible if your partner happened to be of the same gender as you are. Not that Horohoro had ever liked buying mass-produced gifts from those regular stores. Following up on his homemade gifts trend started since last Christmas (for those were a whole lot more meaningful really), the ice shaman had decided that baking cookies, or attempting to do so, would be a good course of action to take. Never mind that his cooking had always left much to be desired.

Grocery bag in hand, he made sure to be silent as he descended the stairs. It would not do for the others to find out about what he mentally termed as 'the secret mission'. Deep down, he knew that if he didn't put it that way, he may not find the resolve to actualise his plans for the day. Baking cookies sounded like a disaster waiting to happen, and he was not keen to find out if his usually accurate intuition proved to be true. Quickly going through the recipe he had memorised once again in his mind, Tao Ren started to creep out of the house early in the morning. He knew Horohoro preferred homemade gifts, and so had decided to lower his pride for once to celebrate this universal 'friendship day' with his special someone in mind.Another first for the records...

To avoid anyone who might be training at this hour, Ren chose to go through the kitchen instead of taking the usual route out the front entrance. The only person who might be inside the cooking area this early would be Tamao, and Ren knew the girl wouldn't tell on anyone. He had always been pretty confident of his abilities to plan out such things, so it took him a few seconds to register the fact that seeing blue hair instead of the expected pink meant that his calculations were way off. Getting the ice shaman to wake up on his own before ten if there wasn't any training scheduled was supposedly hailed by Pilica as a miracle, and that was just what it took to throw his careful planning off.

Horohoro thought his eyes were playing tricks on him when he caught sight of Ren standing in the doorway, a probably similar look of disbelief on his face. At first he wondered if there were flour smudges on his face that would cause his team leader to stare so, before spotting the bag the other shaman held. A wooden spatula and the metallic end of a whisk poked out of the edge of the bag, betraying the possible identities of the rest of the contents in it. Quirking his lips in a failed attempt to suppress a grin, Horohoro wondered briefly if Ren had identical intentions for waking up early this day. Deciding between laughing non-stop till death (for he will no doubt get killed for this gesture later when Ren had recovered his senses) and feigning ignorance to give the Chinese shaman some leeway in avoiding potentially embarrassing questions, Horohoro instinctively chose the former, wiping the tears of mirth from his eyes (despite the flour coating his palms) as he laughed.

He wondered if it was a bad thing to allow someone to know you so well that the glare no longer affects said person. Tao Ren's scowl deepened as his boyfriend (they finally managed to get past the denial stage a week or so ago) showed no signs of stopping his laughter. What is so funny about me trying to bake? He himself is in a, of all things, light pink frilly apron! Well, two can play at the game. Gesturing blandly at the girlish apron tied around Horohoro's waist and raising an eyebrow slowly in question, Ren waited for a reaction. The Ainu was usually a little slow in getting such insinuations, and he was right. Nearly fifteen seconds had passed before a look of recognition passed the ice shaman's face, bringing with it the abrupt end of his chortling. That was Ren's cue to start smirking, knowing it will further infuriate his partner. He was not disappointed as the original blush of embarrassment evolved to become a sure sign of annoyance, and that's when all hell broke loose.

Following the younger shaman's lead, Horohoro hastily whipped off his sister's apron, stuffing it into a bag as they walked. Needless to say, their impromptu flour fight caused Tamao much consternation, and warranted their dismissal (after cleaning up) by Anna. Thinking back, Horohoro realised he did most of the cleaning, with Ren (now that he thought about it) pretending to be busy (somewhat) supervising the cleaning process. He had no time to vent his irritation as said Chinese shaman stopped abruptly without warning, nearly causing Horohoro to walk into him. Any vocal opinions died in his throat as he saw where they were, a little forgotten café tucked in between numerous stores. Why the hell did we bring all our ingredients here for?

Tao Ren ignored the ice shaman's incredulous look and made his way into the café, not bothering to hold the door open for Horohoro or making sure that he was still following. Moving straight to the kitchen, he looked impassively at the owner of the store, who was smiling warmly at the both of them, a knowing twinkle in his eyes. Ren scowled. He disliked people who acted as if they understood the situation without really knowing the characters in them, not that it was any of his business how others acted around him. Spreading his meagre selection of utensils and some basic ingredients upon the large worktable set in the middle of the modest kitchen, Ren waited impatiently for the promised help.

On instinct, or perhaps it was born out of habit, Horohoro decided to follow his team leader without questions. For now at any rate. He looked around, and finally noticed the old man gesturing at him. His lips were moving too fast for Horohoro to read, but he got the gist of it and entered the kitchenette, glancing around curiously from time to time. It was a spick-and-spank area, and though small, had everything one needed to prepare a wholesome meal. He found out he rather liked the café really; it gave him the feeling of home, with its pastel coloured drapes and simple wooden decor. Even the chairs surrounding each table reminded him the warmth found among family, with their unadorned wooden sides and self-sewn cushions placed on them. Catching sight of the Chinese shaman begrudgingly following orders from a plump granny wearing a white frilly apron, Horohoro beamed, and began to join in the process of cookie baking.

Neither had any idea how it happened; it just did. Trying hard to suppress the tick pulsating somewhere near his head, Tao Ren threw the most irritated look he could muster at the grinning ice shaman standing in front of him. Without warning, he flicked his fingers at the pile of leftover flour on the tabletop, sending Horohoro into fits of coughing as he breathed in a lungful of it. Just like before, the unplanned war erupted once again, with the elderly couple looking on and smiling, something with continued to irk Ren. Dodging the spatula thrown his way, he retaliated with a metal whisk, and the game which had gone on the moment Horohoro entered resumed.

Horohoro truly enjoyed the time spent in the kitchen, minus the times he failed to move out of a blunt projectile aimed with deadly accuracy. While it was true that both boys had gotten restless while waiting for the cookies baking merrily in the oven, resulting in their flour messes, the Ainu did have fun throughout the whole process. He had expected baking to be a much more complicated process that will confuse him to no end, but the old lady was truly an expert teacher. Even though they conversed mainly through bodily actions and hand signals, Horohoro could understand her instructions, though he experimented with some of the ingredients and quantities required. Creativity is a talent too.

Scriptwriters should get their asses out of their workroom cubicles and do real world observation exercises. Whatever he had learnt about romance from glimpses of Jun's soaps was really inaccurate. In television shows, a character eating food prepared by someone he had affections for would proclaim the meal to be delicious, even if it was way too often the exact opposite. It was a good thing he had never trusted those clichés, or he would be in for a rude shock. Horohoro had told him quite bluntly that his cookies tasted like crap, before wondering aloud if this was also part of Ren's training to build up tolerance, though the latter was probably in jest. With the Ainu you couldn't tell sometimes, but Ren chose to dismiss the comments for now and take his turn in tasting Horohoro's cookies. I better survive.

The younger shaman wasted no time in telling Horohoro how he felt about his cookies; he took a small bite before dumping the reminder into the nearby bin. Horohoro knew he would have usually gotten angry, but somehow the scene made him amused. The sight of Ren struggling to swallow the probably bad-tasting cookie reminded him of a disgruntled cat, and it was hard to envision the words 'Ren' and 'kitty' in the same sentence. Shaking his head as they, two matured young adults, started throwing cookies at each other instead (though later Ren would deny having ever partaken in this childish activity), Horohoro decided that the time spent together and memories gained will be more than sufficient to make up for the burnt cookies as a unique Valentine's gift that only they would have. I suppose this count as homemade.

Elsewhere, trouble was brewing. Lost in her thoughts, Pilica set the phone receiver down slowly, a mixture of potentially volatile emotions swirling within her. She knew, deep down, that she probably had no right to interfere, but she truly loved her brother. And if her brother chose to love that arrogant Chinese shaman, then she needed to act. Fast. Cursing inwardly, the Ainu girl rummaged through Horohoro's bag, allowing herself a small smile of triumphant as she fished out her brother's notebook. She didn't even know if Horohoro took notes in class, but she needed a sample of her brother's handwriting, and this was her best bet. Closing her eyes and sucking in a deep breath, Pilica readied herself to get down to work.

Author's Notes:

Once again, this incorrigible authoress is about to apologise for the long wait. I had initially planned for this story to be much shorter, but the annoying plot bunnies refused to let me go. At least the chapter arrived in time for Valentine's Day, so here's wishing everyone a sweet, happy Valentine!

On a side note, I've finally figured out how to update my profile a couple of months ago, so take a look and send me a message once in a way if you have the time to spare. I will (after this chapter) update my profile much more frequently, and with it comes the current status of my writing.

Last but not least, review!! They make my day. (: