Pancakes After the Storm

Akio’s alarm bleated at 6:00 AM sharp, ripping him from a shallow, dreamless slumber. He groaned and slapped the snooze, face-down in a pillow for a precious few seconds of denial. Every muscle felt like lead. Why am I alive? he wondered grimly as the alarm persisted.

The events of yesterday: Declan’s surprise visit, the shouting match with Amaya, the emotionally draining aftermath, had left him as wrung out as an old dishcloth. For a moment, he just laid there, blinking blearily at the ceiling, letting fragments of last night drift through his foggy brain. Declan crashing on the couch... Amaya’s tear-reddened eyes in the dark hallway... his own awkward attempt at comfort. Her in his arms, soft and shaking. The quiet. The warmth. The way he hadn't wanted to let go.

Lingering confusion tugged at him, but he pushed it aside with a sigh.

It was a weekday, which meant work awaited, regardless of personal chaos. Akio dragged himself upright, rubbing grit from his eyes. Coffee. I need coffee or I’ll actually die, he decided, stumbling out of bed. He went through the motions on autopilot: shower, teeth, deodorant, shirt buttoned wrong and corrected halfway through a yawn. In the mirror, he straightened his tie and tried to tame his messy black hair. It mostly sprang back rebelliously.

With a resigned shrug, he grabbed his phone and briefcase and headed toward the kitchen, heart rate picking up slightly. He wasn’t sure what he’d find this morning, tense silence? Passive-aggressive cereal chewing? Someone crying into toast? Or, if luck favoured him, normalcy?

What he found was... pure chaos, of the domestic variety. And, to his relief, it was the good kind.

Amaya was in the kitchen, upside-down. Literally. She was doing a handstand in the middle of the floor, her bare feet propped against the wall calendar, and a steaming mug of coffee somehow balanced in one hand. Her other hand was planted firmly on the mat as she sipped from the mug through a curly straw.

It made Akio blink twice, just to be sure he was fully awake. What shocked him most wasn’t the stunt—it was the fact that she was conscious. At six in the morning.

Declan stood at the stove, spatula in hand, watching her with a mix of amusement and exasperation as he flipped something in a pan. The air smelled sweet—possibly pancakes, with a hint of something burning slightly at the edges. A light-hearted banter filled the kitchen.

Akio hovered in the doorway, utterly unsure whether to laugh or call an ambulance pre-emptively. “Morning...” he ventured, voice still raspy. “I see we’ve started the day in the Upside Down again.”

Amaya’s head twisted (in a way that looked alarmingly owlish) to face him. Despite being inverted, she flashed a bright, cheeky grin. “Morning, sleepyhead!” she chirped. “Coffee’s fresh. Want some? It’s extra effective when consumed at a 90 180-degree angle.” She punctuated that with a little leg wiggle against the wall.

Akio trudged forward, setting his briefcase by a chair. He ran a hand through his damp hair and eyed her warily. “Tempting,” he deadpanned. “But I prefer my coffee without a concussion. Call me a traditionalist.”

Declan snorted from the stove. “Wise choice, mate. Not all of us are built to multitask morning caffeine and acrobatics.” He shot Amaya a pointed look. “Unlike this show-off, who’s going to break her neck one of these days. Hey, careful—”

Amaya had begun a slow one-handed cartwheel dismount, somehow still managing not to spill her coffee. She arced gracefully and landed on her feet with a soft thump, her loose ponytail swinging. The mug in her hand barely trembled. Only a few drops sloshed out onto the floor. “Ta-da~!” she sang, raising the mug like a trophy before taking another triumphant sip. “See? Neck intact. Coffee saved. Style points: twelve out of ten. I am the pinnacle of morning grace.”

Akio exhaled a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. The momentary vision of her tumbling headfirst into the fridge faded. “Grace. Right,” he said dryly, stepping around the small coffee puddle on the tile. He grabbed a dishcloth from the counter to wipe it up, shooting her a look. “One day you’ll miss and end up with a face full of hot coffee. Then what?”

“Then I’ll invent coffee-proof goggles,” Amaya quipped, totally unfazed. “Revolutionize the industry.”

She flipped upright onto a high stool by the breakfast bar, perching there cross-legged. Her oversized T-shirt slid halfway down one arm. She looked in ridiculously high spirits for someone who’d been crying herself hoarse last night. Resilient as ever, Akio thought, equal parts admiring and baffled.

He found himself quietly relieved, beyond relieved, actually, to see her smiling and clowning around. Things between her and Declan must be okay now if she was back to her usual acrobatic self.

Declan plated up a stack of slightly misshapen pancakes and brought them over to the counter. “Breakfast is served,” he declared, attempting a posh accent as he set down the plate. “Don’t mind the artisanal sear. It’s for... extra flavour.” He rubbed the back of his neck with a sheepish grin, clearly aware of the “slightly crispy” situation.

Amaya leaned in and gave the plate an exaggerated sniff. “Ah yes. My favourite: blackened pancakes à la fire hazard.” She giggled and poked one. “I’m kidding, Dec. They look great. And I’m starving.” Without ceremony, she tore off a piece of pancake with her fingers and popped it into her mouth.

“Oi! Use a fork, you animal,” Declan chided. He handed Akio a clean plate and some utensils, then passed another set to Amaya, who rolled her eyes and accepted the fork begrudgingly.

Akio accepted the plate. “Thanks,” he said. The pancake did look a tad on the crispy side, but he honestly didn’t mind. It was far from the worst kitchen experiment he’d witnessed at this table. He poured himself some coffee from the carafe, taking a much-needed first sip. As the bitter warmth hit his tongue, he finally felt a little more human. Sliding onto a stool, he watched Amaya and Declan bicker like siblings over the proper way to eat pancakes (Amaya was now slicing hers with the side of her fork just to annoy him).

Declan nudged a jar of jam toward her. “Here, put some of this on. And try not to fling it across the room, yeah?”

“I make no promises,” Amaya said, but she took the jam and smeared a generous glob onto her pancake stack. To Akio’s astonishment, she then folded her legs beneath her and bent backwards in a flexible arch—practically a bridge pose on the stool—to grab her phone from the far end of the counter. Akio opened his mouth to protest that she could have just asked someone to hand it to her but closed it again.

Phone retrieved, Amaya sat upright and began scrolling idly as she munched her jammy pancake. Declan raised an eyebrow. “Already checking your fan mail?” he teased. “Or, dare I hope, finally opening those university brochures your parents sent you?”

Akio glanced over, mid-bite. Sure enough, on Amaya’s phone screen there was an open email with what looked like a university logo and some attached brochure images. He recognized the name—one of the universities in Shinjuku, if he recalled correctly.

Amaya made a face halfway between a scowl and a pout, nearly choking on a bit of pancake. “Ugh. Must you bring this up at the crack of dawn?” She swallowed and wagged her fork at Declan threateningly. “I looked at them, okay? Happy now, Dad?”

Declan’s lips twitched, trying to hide a smile. “First of all, it’s hardly ‘crack of dawn’ anymore. Second, I’m not your dad, thank God for that, but I am thrilled to hear you actually looked.” He gave Akio a conspiratorial aside glance. “She’s acting like clicking a PDF brochure is akin to torture.”

Akio smirked into his coffee. “I’m surprised she didn’t throw her phone at you, to be honest.”

Amaya huffed, crossing her arms. “I considered it. But then I remembered I just paid that phone off.” She uncrossed one arm just to swipe at Declan’s elbow. “Anyway! Yes, I skimmed the stupid pamphlets you spammed me with. For like, five whole minutes. There were pictures of campuses and happy students frolicking under cherry blossoms or whatever. Very inspiring.” Her tone dripped with sarcasm, but Akio caught the faint blush on her cheeks. She was embarrassed, though whether at the idea of school or at being caught actually considering it, he wasn’t sure.

Declan’s grin grew unabashedly wide. “Five minutes is more than I dared hope for. That’s basically a thorough read, coming from you.” He mimed wiping a tear. “Our little daredevil is growing up.”

Amaya groaned and flicked a breadcrumb at him. “Don’t get sappy on me. And stop calling me little.”

“Hard not to when you’re shorter than me,” Declan shot back, sticking out his tonguejust long enough to be annoying. He ruffled her hair now with one large hand. “But fine. Our moderately-sized daredevil, is that better?”

She swatted his hand away, laughing. “I will moderately-sized kick you.”

Akio watched their exchange with a smile tugging at his lips. The stark contrast to last night’s tears and tension was like sunshine after a storm. The knot of worry in his chest loosened. He quietly cut into his pancake.

“By the way,” Amaya piped up, turning her attention to Akio now. “Sorry if we woke you earlier. Declan insisted on making breakfast as some kind of apology-slash-thank-you gesture, and he dropped a pan at like 5:30.” She snickered, and Declan muttered something about “slippery hands.”

“I didn’t even hear it,” Akio admitted. He must’ve slept through that clatter, unsurprising given how dead tired he was. He shook his head. “And you don’t owe me an apology. I’m just glad you two worked things out.”

Amaya’s eyes softened a touch. She propped her chin on her palm, regarding Akio sincerely. “We did. We talked.” She shot Declan a side-long look, and he nodded affirmatively, mouth too full of pancake to speak. “And... I might’ve overreacted a bit yesterday.” She twirled her fork, suddenly finding the remaining crumbs on her plate very interesting. “Thanks for, um, putting up with all that. And for letting this doofus crash here.” She jerked her thumb at Declan playfully.

Akio coughed to hide the slight surprise at her earnestness. She wasn’t one to admit fault often. He responded lightly, “Anytime. What’s a little shouting and mayhem among friends?” He smirked. “Keeps things interesting. And hey, I didn’t have to cook breakfast. That’s a win.” He held up a half-eaten pancake as evidence.

Declan chuckled. “Hazard pay in pancake form. The least I could do.” He polished off his own plate and stretched. “Honestly, Akio, you’ve been a lifesaver. I owe you one. If you ever need a favour, moving furniture, disposing of a corpse, faking your own death, ring me up.”

Akio almost choked on his coffee. “I’ll... keep that in mind,” he said, deadpan.

Amaya cackled. “Careful, he’ll hold you to it. Next thing you know, you’ll be our on-call strongman when I break the couch again.”

“Again?” Declan arched an eyebrow, and Akio groaned theatrically.

“Don’t ask,” Akio said with a mock-grimace, recalling the incident of Amaya vs. the couch (the couch lost). “Let’s just say acrobats shouldn’t use living room furniture as springboards.”

Amaya gave a guilty little shrug and a peace sign. “Noted. No backflips off the couch... unless there’s a really good reason.”

Before Akio could retort, a quick chime from his phone caught his attention. He checked the time and winced. “Crap,” he muttered, scrambling to his feet. “I have to get going,” he realized aloud, sliding off the stool. He’d been so engrossed in their banter he nearly lost track of his usual departure time. If he didn’t hurry, he’d be late to the office.

“Already?” Amaya pouted comically, as if his leaving meant the end of a fun show. “Boo. Who will I annoy with my boundless energy if you’re gone?” She fluttered her lashes innocently.

Declan snickered. “I’m still here, you know. By all means, annoy me. I can take it.”

“You asked for it,” she sing-songed, hopping up from her stool. In a blink, she bounded onto Declan’s back, arms looping around his shoulders in a surprise piggyback attack. Declan easily hooked an arm under her legs to support her. Clearly, this was a common occurrence.

Amaya, now riding on his back, pointed imperiously toward the living room. “We ride to the Realm of Dishes, because you, kind sir, are on clean-up duty.”

Declan craned his neck to give her a bemused look. “Really milking the apology privileges, aren’t you?” But he obliged, carrying her the few steps toward the sink, where a pile of mixing bowls awaited washing.

Akio watched this absurd procession with an affection he tried not to show too plainly on his face. He slipped his arms into his suit jacket and grabbed his briefcase. “Alright, you two maniacs, I’m off.” He paused, one hand on the door frame. “Don’t burn the place down while I’m gone. Or flood it,” he added, eyeing the way Declan was now trying to deposit Amaya onto the counter so he could reach the sink, while she clung stubbornly like a koala. Water from the faucet sprayed dangerously near her phone.

“No promises!” Amaya called back with a grin, finally sliding off Declan’s back and knocking over a soap bottle in the process, she caught it with a triumphant spin, then turned and wrapped Akio in a quick, squishy hug.

She gave Akio a little salute, soap suds already somehow in her hair. “Have fun in the corporate jungle, Akio.”

Declan chimed in, flashing a teasing smile of his own. “And don’t let the boss catch you doing handstands on your desk. Word on the street is that’s frowned upon in professional settings.”

Akio rolled his eyes. “I’ll leave the acrobatics to the professionals, thanks.” He allowed a hint of a smile. “See you later. Good luck with... dish duty.”

Declan’s groan followed him out: “I thought I was a guest, why am I washing dishes—hey!” followed by a splash and Amaya’s laughter. Akio closed the door behind him, shaking his head with a faint chuckle. Back to normal, indeed.

As he hurried down the apartment stairs and into the morning light, Akio realized his earlier exhaustion had lifted a bit. Sure, he was still tired, but the anxiety that had knotted in his stomach last night was gone. In its place was a small warmth, like he’d watched a little family weather a storm and come out smiling on the other side.