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It would be easy, at least; that’s what Yuma believed. It becomes more complicated with a death god constantly criticizing you in your ear. His last cooking endeavor almost put Chief Yakou in a coma, so he figured Shinigami wasn't wholly wrong.
“Wow, Master! You really are a clutz!” she giggled as Yuma dropped yet another spatula on the agency floor, sending splatters of who knows what on the cabinets. “If you ever make any enemies, just cook for them! It’d be the perfect crime! Kyahaha!”
Yuma sighed, looking at the colossal mess he had created. “I don't understand. My profile said I was a good cook. So why am I not getting this?”
Shinigami put her hands behind her head, “Beats me.”
“I guess I should clean this up, huh?” Yuma had been trying for a while, made countless recipes, and the only thing he had to show was this mess. Flour, rice, egg, and other ingredients Yuma couldn't name were sprayed across the kitchen, on the countertops and cabinets, everywhere except where he wanted them to be.
“Come on, Master, this is boring. Who cares about your lost memories when there are mysteries to solve!”
“This is important to me, Shinigami. The Chief said I was good at cooking, didn't he?”
It’d be nice to impress someone for once…
“Remember how pale Chief Yakou went when you made food before? I’d say that left quite the impression!”
That's not what I meant, and you know it.
Yuma threw a glare in Shinigami’s direction, but she blew it off with a wave of her hand. “Eh, details…”
The sound of the submarine hatch opening filled the air, and it became apparent to Yuma that he was no longer alone in the agency.
“Oooh, Master’s about to get in trouble!” Shinigami coddled as Yuma began to panic. Because the death god shared a body with Yuma, he realized she could probably feel his terror. He wondered if she got a kick out of his constant shortcomings.
“Yo, you still here Yuma?”
Crap. It was Chief Yakou. He had left to investigate a client's requests not too long ago, but Yuma wasn't expecting him to return so soon. What would Yakou do when he saw the mess Yuma created? Kick him out? Probably.
“Unless Master can clean at light speed, he’s done for! Kyahaha!”
His heart dropped before Yuma could tell Shinigami off for another rude comment.
“Man, smells like somethin’s burning in here…”
Chief Yakou entered the kitchen, and any dignity Yuma had left instantly vanished. The trainee could only stare as his superior stood flabbergasted, taking in what can only be described as anarchy in his kitchen. A kitchen he had explicitly told Yuma to stay away from.
“What-?”
“I-I can explain!” Yuma cut Yakou off, “I know you told me to forget about it, b-but if I really was a good cook…” he trailed off. Yuma had to be honest; he didn't know what to say to diffuse the situation.
Yakou sighed, rubbing his temple. “Look, Yuma, your profile did say you were a good cook, but-” he gestured to the kitchen, “clearly you aren't anymore.”
“But you're the one who said if I cook, I could regain my memories!” Yuma looked up hopefully at Yakou.
“I did say that, didn't I?” the older detective sighed again, “but I also told you to forget about cooking until you got your memories back.”
“Master, you do know your memories are never coming back, right? You gave them up when you signed the pact with yours truly!” Shinigami butted in, floating in circles around Yuma’s head.
Growing frustrated, Yuma exclaimed, “I have to at least try! I can't just sit around and do nothing!” Yuma’s response was aimed at both Shinigami and Yakou. But upon seeing the look on Chief Yakou’s face, Yuma wished he didn't respond at all.
“Sorry,” Yuma bowed as Shinigami giggled in the background, clearly enjoying her master making a fool of himself. “I-I didn't mean any disrespect-”
Unexpectedly, the older detective placed a hand on Yuma’s shoulder. “Don’t sweat it, kid,” Yakou said, his voice soft. “I can't possibly understand what you’re going through because of your amnesia, but I can support you.”
‘W-What?”
“Yeah, What? I’m the only one who can support Master!” Shinigami rocked back and forth. We’re bound by contract!” she pouted.
“Support me?” Yuma ignored the ghost, “But after what I did to your kitchen, a-and I disobeyed your wishes-”
“The kitchen can be cleaned, so no harm, no foul. Ok?” Yakou smiled at the trainee, “Besides, you were only trying to help.”
Behind Yuma, a pan fell off the counter, causing him to freeze.
“Oops,” Yuma heard Shinigami say, “did I do that?”
The younger detective groaned; he had completely forgotten about the mess. Yuma picked up the pan and returned it to the counter. “I guess I’ll start cleaning up then,” he said to Yakou, “and I’ll be sure to stay away from the kitchen from now on.”
“Woah, gloomy, you think I’m just gonna let you clean on your own?” Yakou placed his hands on his hips.
Yuma was surprised. Why would the Chief want to help? “Y-Yeah?” “I made the mess; I’ll clean it up.”
“He must really feel sorry for you,” Shinigami injected, “Master, you really need to stop relying on others.” The death god had perched herself on the cupboards to watch the unfolding scene.
You say that like it's a bad thing.
Yakou started talking before Shinigami could answer, hands on his hips. “You're in my agency, and as your Chief, I have partial responsibility for your actions.”
“R-really, it's no big deal!” Yuma waved his hands frantically, trying to stop himself from spiraling. It didn't work. “It’s my fault… I barely solved the Nail Man case with Halara’s help. I’m not worthy of being in the Nocturnal Detective Agency.
The older detective reached over and ruffled Yuma’s hair. “Stop selling yourself short, kid. As much as I hate to admit it, you did a good job with the Nail Man case. You did what all of the Peacekeepers in Kanai Ward couldn't do! You proved yourself 10 times over. Not that you ever had to- but still!”
“I proved myself?” A wave of euphoria passed through Yuma. Unbeknownst to him, he desired praise and had been craving it for a while. The young detective had forgotten how good it was for someone to have his back.
“You don't have to be exactly who you used to be,” Yakou said seriously this time, hand on Yuma’s shoulder. “Stop living in the shadow of your past self, and you'll discover a new perspective.”
“T-thanks, Chief Yakou,” feeling braver, Yuma poked, “I didn't know you could talk like that,”
“Yeah,” Yakou swiped his nose and looked away, “I can be philosophical when I want to be.” He turned and gave Yuma a trademark smile. “Now, let's get to work!”
>--<
“Man, I’m tired,” Yakou stretched his arms above his head. The two had been cleaning the kitchen for a while now, and although he’d never admit it, Yuma’s arms were starting to hurt from the constant scrubbing. “Whaddya say we call it a day and sit for a little while?”
“Sure,” Yuma nodded and followed the older detective into the agency’s main room. Shinigami floated lazily behind him; Yuma guessed she was bored. After watching the pair of detectives clean for over an hour, he didn't blame the death god. Yuma was just grateful she was being quiet for once.
Yakou sat on the purple couch and wordlessly patted the spot beside him. Yuma took the hint and set himself down next to the Chief. As soon as he did, the trainee felt drowsy and- without thinking- leaned against Yakou. Under any other circumstances, Yuma would have been embarrassed beyond belief because of this display. But he hardly had time to ponder his shoddy decision when his eyes closed, and he was asleep.
>--<
“Chief. I have something to-” Halara Nightmare, doing legwork on Kanai Ward’s ultimate secret, returned to the Nocturnal Detective Agency to ask Chief Yakou a few questions about the city’s isolation. “-ask you…” they trailed off when they saw the scene in front of them.
“What’s the holdup Halara?” Desuhiko Thunderbolt, assigned to Halara for the day (the Chief wouldn't allow the Master Detectives to go anywhere alone), groned and peaked around the corner into the main room.
Yuma and Chief Yakou were sitting side by side on the purple couch. Yakou’s arm wrapped around the trainee's shoulders, and Yuma’s head rested on the older detective's side. They were both breathing gently while they slept.
“This is golden, Halara!” Desuhiko exclaimed, “I wish phones worked in this city so I could record this! Talk about ultimate blackmail!”
The last thing Desuhiko expected was for Halara to silence him, “Clearly, Yuma and the Chief are tired and need rest.” They turned to the submarine hatch, motioning for Desuhiko to follow, “Come, Desuhiko, I won't allow time to be wasted.”
“Aw man, you're no fun.”
As the two Master Detectives climbed out of the submarine, neither had the faintest idea of the horror that befell the Agency kitchen just a few hours before. Something neither Yuma nor Yakou would ever admit took place. But, whenever someone pointed out a mess from that point on, Yakou would snicker, and Yuma would begin to blush- to everyone else's confusion. But some things are better left alone.