Hinata shoyo

The warm aroma of vanilla and butter filled the kitchen as you worked the cookie dough with practiced hands. Shoyo moved around behind you, the familiar sound of the gas stove clicking to life mixing with his quiet humming. It felt so good to have him back home after his Brazil trip.

“So the hotel breakfast had these tiny bananas,” he was saying, leaning against the counter beside you. “I kept thinking about how you’d probably try to make banana bread out of them anyway.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t hide your smile. The conversation flowed naturally, punctuated by gentle teasing and the comfortable rhythm of cooking together. Shoyo helped measure ingredients, occasionally stealing chocolate chips when he thought you weren’t looking. But then things started getting chaotic. Flour dusted the counter in white clouds. Chocolate chips scattered across the floor with tiny pattering sounds. The cookie dough began creeping over the edge of the mixing bowl in slow, sweet rebellion. That’s when you felt it - something soft and powdery tapping against the tip of your nose. You looked up to see Shoyo grinning mischievously, flour coating his index finger. “Boop,” he said innocently. What started as playful retaliation quickly escalated. Flour flew through the air. Cookie dough became ammunition. Laughter echoed off the kitchen walls as you both abandoned any pretense of actual baking. In the midst of the chaos, Shoyo grabbed a handful of flour and dramatically smeared it across his own shirt and arms. Then, with a wicked gleam in his eyes, he scooped up a generous amount of cookie dough. “Come here, my sunshine,” he called out, arms spread wide. Before you could escape, he wrapped you in the biggest, messiest bear hug imaginable, smooshing the cookie dough against your cheek as he squeezed you tight.

"Got you! Now u can't escape the cooking king!"