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“Kan-chan! You’ll be late for school! Wake up and eat breakfast before it gets cold!”
Little did Himari know, Kanba was already awake. He smirked to himself in his bedroom, back facing the now-opened sliding door. He heard soft footsteps, signaling that his little sister was still cooking breakfast. She was nowhere near done. He already knew he had plenty of time, but Himari liked to make sure her elder brother was awake.
Stretching, he got up, smoothing a hand through his hair as he looked from where he stood, watching the figure of his sister in her school uniform, humming and fixing up the rest of their breakfast. A small smile tugged on his lips and he walked over, soon behind Himari, his arms coming around her slim frame. She didn’t have those curvy hips most girls had at her age, but he knew she was still developing. Her hair was cut short, but it was still that honey brown color he loved so much. She tensed up and her soft, small hands faltered.
“Morning, Himari,” he murmured, warm breath tickling her skin. She shivered in his arms and he smirked, staying that way for a bit. Finally, he felt Himari move, finishing up breakfast, quiet and reserved. He longed for her sweet voice, to feel her morning kiss as became the usual tradition. She moved, gently, to give him a tender kiss to the cheek, smiling sweetly. A hand came up to play with her short, soft hair.
“Go wash your hands, Kan-chan. You won’t get any breakfast until you do!” she reprimanded, giggling a bit. Kanba rolled his eyes, stole something off a plate and did as told. His sister could be a little bossy, he had to admit. Puberty, he suspected.
Breakfast went smoothly. Kanba purposefully left food on his cheek so Himari would clean it up. He called her his little “wife” and she blushed, looked down and mumbled something out of embarrassment. They were sort of like husband and wife. Himari cooked, she cleaned, she made sure Kanba was straight with her. He had gone to school as normal, though his relationship with his sister was far from such. It didn’t matter to him. He loved her. He went to the end, it had seemed, just for her, to make her normal and have her able to live happily. She was no longer ill, though… they had both lost someone in the process.
They never talked about Shouma. Pictures of him were virtually gone in their scrapbooks. Just Himari and Kanba. It was best not to think of him, to not mourn for him. He did it for their sake, Himari would remind Kanba, and he wouldn’t want them to dwell on his sacrifice.
With a grunt, Kanba helped cleaned up, got ready for school, and was out before Himari. He had sat around and it was getting later and later, and if he was late, he would be met with a lecture from his little sister once more. She saw him off, smiling, waving happily.
Once he was out of sight, her hand faltered.
The door to their home was shut, and violet eyes scanned to see the calendar. A whole year. It had been a whole year and they weren’t saying anything about it. Coming closer, a smooth hand went over to the date, that had nothing written in its box. Why should there be something there? Why remind themselves of something they promised to forget?
“Himari... I’m sorry.”
For the first time in a long time, the façade was broken.
Shouma shut his eyes and held back his tears. There he stood, in the middle of his home, pretending to be someone he wasn’t. All the memories of his past life were gone. The Shouma he had been had “sacrificed” himself for the sake of Himari’s life. He wouldn’t allow his big brother to do it. He wanted them to live on, to forget, to be happy.
That was the story.
Shouma’s sacrifice was supposed to be the Penguindrum. The penguins had disappeared — both in reality and in the imagined reality, though for different reasons — shouts of “Survival Strategy!” were no longer heard.
They had failed miserably. The Penguindrum hadn’t been found in time. Himari was gone, as a result. She died. There was no reviving her, no reviving the Princess of the Crystal. The penguins had disappeared. Sanetoshi’s ghost no longer plagued them, out of pity. All of it, all of the things they had sacrificed, all of what they had gone through had all been for nothing.
Kanba had cracked.
He didn’t cry, he didn’t mourn for Himari’s loss like Shouma had. He had, frankly, gone crazy. That day, he had looked to Shouma, picked him up into his arms and called him by Himari’s name.
“It’s okay,” he had said, “Shouma’s sacrifice was not in vain. We have each other, Himari — so, please. Take a deep breath. I can’t bear to see you cry.”
It wasn’t what Shouma had wanted. He didn’t want to be where he was now — fighting off the tears, the memories. He had vowed that day to become Takakura Himari. He had instantly put forth his efforts to appease Kanba’s dreams, to make him not be so sick. That’s what his brother was — he was sick. He had fabricated memories and much else, had mourned over “Shouma” and told “Himari” that it was best if they acted like he never existed at all. It hurt him, at first. It made him feel unwanted. Yet, Kanba’s warm embrace, his gentle words, the way he’d treat him like a princess — it was all worth it after. He made no point in stopping him. Shouma was an enabler, encouraging every bit of Kanba’s twisted fantasies.
All the attention was all he could have ever hoped for. He longed for the embrace of his brother’s, though he never would have admitted it. All those years, he focused on Himari. All those years, they had fought for her to survive. It had all ended up for naught, but he would change that. He was living through her, becoming that spirited, healthy little sister they both had wanted.
The changes were drastic, for him. He dyed his hair, straightened it out to match Himari’s hair just a bit. He wore colored contacts, dressed in Himari’s clothes. Everything about him became her. He was a bit too tall, though Kanba didn’t notice. The only complaint he had ever had was that Himari’s hair was “too short.” She as Shouma now was called, would grow it out. He was, even at that moment, growing the hair out. He tucked dyed hair behind his ears, dried his eyes. Shouma had to convince himself that he shouldn’t be mourning over her. He was Himari now. He was in her school uniform, ought to be changing it shortly, but finding no strength to do so.
As much as this fantasy helped Kanba, it helped him, too. Maybe he was just as sick as his brother was.
—
The day wore on. Shouma stopped attending school and worked on his education online. It was nothing in comparison, but he did what he had to do. He worked under Himari’s name, though he didn’t dare to enroll in a school as her. No, he focused his attention as being her for Kanba’s sake, for his own sake. He went out in public as Takakura Himari, naturally, and fooled everyone around him. It was so very, very easy. Only a handful of people weren’t fooled, but were forced to keep their mouths shut about it.
Oginome Ringo was one of those people.
She thought it was outrageous. She had screamed and threatened to call the police, but Kanba had restrained her. He had drilled her about being so insensitive over Shouma’s death, and had not once acknowledged that it was Himari who died. Himari had been right by his side, after all. She had pleaded and insisted with Ringo, who had looked on in horror. The boy she so foolishly fell for was pretending to be someone he could never be. It was enough to make her want to drop contact completely. She wanted nothing to do with this.
Unfortunately, she was Himari’s friend. She had to pretend, they all had to pretend, that nothing had changed. When Kanba wasn’t home, Ringo tried to talk normally to Shouma, but he kept pretending. Only rarely did he break the facade. He would pretend not to understand the guilt-ridden girl and would change the subject. Ringo was Himari’s friend. They were all friends. Ringo was good company. She taught Himari many things about cooking and the Takakura household even adopted Curry Day. The two girls were that close.
She was due to come over, “Himari” mused. As soon as she had broken the facade, it was back up. She was Himari again. She was getting out of school. Kanba had a club to attend to and Ringo-chan was coming over soon. Smiling, fixing her hair, she turned the laptop off and put it away. She fixed herself lunch, made a snack for Ringo-chan, and enjoyed her peace and quiet until her best friend came over.
“Ringo-cha—n…” Himari had trailed off. It wasn’t her. It was Kanba’s and Himari’s uncle, Ikebe. The man looked down and sighed, looking away shortly after. Don’t do this. Not now. Anything but this. She didn’t want to see their uncle — he only brought trouble.
“Shouma,” he started. The boy tensed visibly, before turning his head away. “Please, let me in.”
“I don’t know that name.”
"...Himari.”
“Yes?”
“Please let me inside.” Ikebe hung his head a bit in minor defeat. Shouma had grown increasingly stubborn about being referred to as “Himari.” A year before and he would have let him in even before he got a chance to say anything. The beginning had been rough on him. He would have minor breakdowns whenever Kanba wasn’t around and would depend on others, mainly Uncle Ikebe and Oginome-san, whenever he could. He was composed, now. She was composed.
“It’s good to see you, Uncle Ikebe!” she chimed, Ikebe watching as Himari led him in, shut the door. They discussed their days, caught up on everything. Ikebe was their only living relative (that they acknowledged as family, anyway) and he was the one helping take care of them — from afar. He reminded Himari that the payment would be do soon. He didn’t stay long, he never did, and before Ringo was going to be over, he bid the only person home farewell.
—
Ringo never came over. She was too busy (really, too afraid to be close to the Takakura siblings nowadays). Himari had brushed it off as her best friend studying. She had nothing to do, though, having had hoped to go out shopping with the other. Eventually, Himari ended up buying clothes online, including a white swimsuit. She was always building a new wardrobe. Some clothes just didn’t fit her anymore and Kanba had remarked she was finally growing. He did, however, teasingly point out that she hadn’t developed any sort of a chest.
Whatever. She didn’t need to have breasts. It wasn’t like she wanted them. Besides, no one would be sleeping with her. Kanba hadn’t gone that far. He had kissed her, held her closer than he should have, but he never laid a hand on her.
If he had, she didn’t know what she would do. There was only so much they could do to fool each other.
Shutting her eyes, Himari focused on calming herself down, reminding her who she was and who she should be expecting soon. Hair went tucked back and she set out for making dinner. Kanba returned home and was greeted by his cheerful sister, who kissed him on the cheek and told him to relax. He smirked, looked her over, and told her to not forget to change out of her uniform. A roll of the eyes, and Himari went back to work.
It was as if this was how it had always been. Himari greeting Kanba like some sort of housewife, Kanba kicking back and watching TV. It was as if there had never been a little gang of penguins running about, wreaking havoc. It was as if Shouma had always been Himari. It was as it should be, at that moment. He was filling in the blanks of both his and Kanba’s heart. It was selfish. It was terrible.
But at the end of the day, it was also their punishment.
“Kan-chan, dinner’s ready!”