Shibani's Peaceful (if not Mundane) Mochi Dreams

Shibani’s dreams were soft and sweet, like the first bite of warm, freshly made mochi. Even after the craziness of the Mochi Moon, they were fluffy just like him.

He floated in a hazy, comfortable world, his body light as a cloud and his heart full of a quiet happiness. Everything around him was soft. The colors, the sounds, the feeling of the ground beneath his hooves. It was a world that felt safe, familiar, and deeply comforting.

In his dream, Shibani stood in a cozy kitchen. A familiar one.

The air was filled with the warm, inviting smell of rice and something sweet he couldn’t quite name. 

In the center of it all was Dan.

Dan was at the counter, his strong hands dusted with rice flour as he carefully kneaded a ball of mochi dough. His gruff face was softened by focused concentration and his movements were deliberate and steady. There was something mesmerizing about the way Dan worked, each motion precise and full of care. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to. His presence alone was enough to fill the room with warmth.

Was this really a dream? It seemed like a normal day. Shibani just felt a little bit less sleepy. More alert. 

Shibani stepped closer. “You’re making mochi?” he asked softly, his voice carrying the same dreamlike quality as everything else. It almost echoed…

Dan glanced up, his eyes meeting Shibani’s. 

There was a small smile on his lips, one that made Shibani’s chest feel warm. 

“Yeah,” Dan said, his voice low and steady. “Figured you’d like some.”

Shibani’s heart swelled. “I love your mochi,” he said honestly, his red eyes sparkling with quiet affection. “It’s the best.”

Dan huffed a small laugh, the sound as comforting as a crackling fire on a cold night. In this winter season, it was common to curl up by the fire, either in bun or doll form.

“You say that every time,” he said, but there was no mistaking the hint of pride in his voice.

Shibani leaned on the counter, watching as Dan continued to work. He didn’t care how long it took; he could watch Dan make mochi forever. There was something so grounding about it, so peaceful. Every motion spoke of care and love, even if Dan wasn’t the type to say it out loud.

When the dough was ready, Dan divided it into small pieces and began shaping them into perfect little rounds. Shibani’s mouth watered just looking at them. “Can I help?” he asked, reaching out hesitantly.

Dan raised an eyebrow but stepped aside slightly, giving Shibani room to join. “Just don’t mess it up,” he said, though his tone was more teasing than stern.

Shibani smiled as he joined Dan at the counter.

The dough was soft and warm under his hands, and he tried his best to mimic Dan’s movements. His pieces weren’t as perfect, but Dan didn’t say anything, just glanced over occasionally with a look that was almost approving.

“Like this?” Shibani asked, holding up a slightly lopsided mochi.

Dan chuckled, a deep, rich sound that made Shibani’s heart flutter. “Close enough,” he said, reaching over to gently reshape it. His hands brushed against Shibani’s, rough and warm, and Shibani felt his cheeks heat up even in the dream.

They worked together in comfortable silence, the kitchen filled only with the soft sounds of their hands working and the occasional crackle of something cooking on the stove. When the mochi was finally done, Dan set them on a plate and handed one to Shibani.

“Here,” he said. “Try it.”

Shibani took the mochi carefully, almost reverently, and took a bite. The sweetness of the filling and the soft chewiness of the dough were perfect, just as he’d expected. He closed his eyes, savoring the taste. 

“It’s amazing,” he said, his voice soft with awe. “You’re amazing.”

Dan looked away, but not before Shibani caught the faintest hint of a blush on his face. “It’s just mochi,” Dan muttered, though his voice lacked its usual gruffness.

Shibani smiled, feeling a warmth that had nothing to do with the kitchen. “It’s not just mochi,” he said, his words slow and deliberate. “It’s you. That’s what makes it special.”

For a moment, the dream seemed to still, as if the world itself was holding its breath. Dan looked at him, his eyes soft and unreadable, and Shibani felt like he could melt under that gaze.

Then, just as quickly, the moment passed. Dan cleared his throat and turned back to the counter. “You’re too sentimental,” he said, but there was no real bite to his words.

Shibani just laughed, a soft, content sound that seemed to fill the room. He took another bite of the mochi, letting the sweetness linger on his tongue. Everything felt perfect, like a moment he never wanted to end.