Work Text:
September 2018
“Meh… it’s cute but so basic!” Makoto bemoans as she leans over to inspect Rei’s screen. “I thought we were going all out for Halloween…”
“Especially after last year, when we didn’t even match,” You muse out loud, dropping the witch’s wide-brimmed hat you had plucked from the display the second you see the price tag.
You can feel your friend roll her eyes when she replies, “You know I hate cosplay, I wasn’t going to pass for some otaku in Minato-ku.”
You wisely choose not to answer, instead taking a sip from your iced coffee. Rei snorts derisively, walking back towards you both, plastic cup in hand, and what can only be described as lingerie hanging from her free hand. “And I wasn't going to be some sexy fruit in high heels!”
Luckily enough the situation defuses itself when both spot a wrapped magical girl costume further down the aisle and relentlessly mock its garish colors and poor stitching. You have to focus to follow and join in the ribbing, always a step behind nowadays.
You’ve never been a genius. You always had to work hard to keep up with your peers, and doubly so once you had enrolled in higher education.
In the past few weeks however, it had become tedious. You tend to fall behind much more easily, be it in courses or simple conversations. You strain to slip in a joke and feel relief when Rei’s telltale pout splits into a smile.
You should go see a doctor, the thought gnaws at you in the back of your mind. Someone could make sense of this, of the pieces of your mind strewn about the place. You chew on the tip of your straw, passively listening to the back and forth.
Your head pounds when you try to conjure up your memories from before, when you felt one and whole and normal. Something shifts inside your skull, rattling almost, as if your brain resides in a snowglobe left between the hands of a toddler.
Your group moves from boutique to boutique, disheartened by the escalating prices. Thinking of anything else relieves the pressure in your head. Earth-shattering matters like Halloween costumes sound better than…
Pain lances through you. Quick. Your shoulders jump in surprise. The ice cubes inside your cup clink with the movement. Makoto glances back over her shoulder, frowning, “Huh? You’re spacing out again?”
“I…” You rub uneasily at the spot right above your heart, pressing down as if you could reach the ache through your flesh if you applied enough pressure. You take in a shuddering breath, blinking wildly to avoid tearing up. “I just feel… I feel really sad.”
“Sad?” Rei turns to face you, both of your friends like anchor points in the middle of the crowded mall. “Is this about your ex? I told you you’re better off without him.”
“Rei!” She relents when Makoto glares at her, ut not enough to stop talking.
“What? She was in pieces.”
“Rei.”
“I’m just saying, this is what you get for dating lawyers. Those guys have no scruples.”
“Are you feeling hot?” Makoto fishes out a crumpled water bottle from her bag, forcing you to swap it for the red of your coffee. “Drink up.”
It’s instant; the shift in the air. A sharp whistling noise cuts through the buzzing voices in the mall, the sounds of people. The ringing inside your ears deafens you. A distinct pointed ache strikes through your heart, cutting into your ribcage and straight into something soft and spongy, ending its course lodged deep there.
Makoto pulls you in when you push the bottle back to her, rubbing a soothing hand across your back in a tight circle while Rei maneuvers you into a corner.
You shakily bring a hand to your breast, over your heart. The pain dulls in increments, a taste of bile climbs up into your mouth. Your eyes sting, your vision blurring.
The feeling is familiar, but different, crueler. For the second time in your life, something within you feels like it died.
November 3, 2018
For the first one hundred and fifty years of his life, Choso has known his brothers.
In the past months of his life however, he has known of his sister, then of her passing.
In the past week, he has met his youngest brother.
Yuji seems more of a shadow than a boy. It is hard to gauge how his baby brother changed since the carnage the King of Curses waged in Shibuya, yet there is a certainty only an older brother such as him would have. Choso knows Yuji is different, changed.
He may be stronger than ever before, but he has been left fragilized. And that wound can be mended only by having a goal – having a strong example to follow after – having footsteps left before his time to better tread the path ahead.
Yuji desperately needs his older brother to show him the way.
“You don’t know me.”
“I’m not your brother.”
“I am sorry I killed them… but you make no sense.”
“I’m not calling you anything but your name.”
“Wouldn’t killing me be better? Avenging them both, that would make you feel better. Rather than me calling you that.”
“I’m an only child, Choso!”
“... whatever.”
“I’m trying to sleep.”
Choso has to remind himself many times that Yuji is human. Painfully so. All those outbursts, those nights his brother spends pretending to sleep, silently crying, stifling sobs as he remains haunted by Shibuya – they come naturally to him. And that Yuji raging against his older brother collecting him in his arms and rubbing his back in a show of support is to be expected. He is still growing. Just a boy unsteady in his emotions.
“Stop saying that! And get–” Yuji thrusts an elbow in his side – half-heartedly Choso noted, as the blow felt weak. “--off me!”
“I live for you, Yuji. You can let go.” His fists clenched where they were already on Choso’s torso, pushing him away. “I am your old–”
“Choso, you finish that sentence and I will jump in the Sumida.”
Some days move slower than others. Such as this one. The stronger curses move throughout the city, following the last evacuation efforts in search of an easy meal. Much as he had before in Shibuya, Choso wondered how troubling it must be – to be hunted down by an invisible foe, struck down without a warning, not even the crack in the air or a buzz of energy over one’s skin.
The curses were dispatched as he and his brother worked in tandem. Yuji somberly nodded at his praise, thanking him, the dullness in his eyes creeping back in once the fight was over.
“We had a sister,” he says, then. “She was older than you.”
Yuji looks at him askance. “You never said anything about that.”
Pain weaves itself into his heart, blanketing the glaring hole your death had left behind. Choso feels his heart mend itself, feeling each stab of the needle leading thread into the pieces that lie behind his ribs. It would never fully heal.
“I felt her on the brink of death, much like you. I saw her then.” The memory builds up like a storm as Choso recalls his dearly departed younger brothers.
The new information has captured Yuji’s interest, but only just. “...what was her name?”
“Yuji–she was your older sister. You should call her appropriately.”
“You need to get a grip.”
A day like this could not possibly happen twice.
The sky above is bright blue, sparsely clouded by thin, white clouds. The sun shines down kindly, revealing the green plains surrounding him, casting a sheen on the blades of long grass spanning as far as the eye could see. A rising draft has his loose hair blow in his eyes, Choso removes the strands from his eye in time to see the grass swaying calmly in the wind, unveiling smatterings of purples and yellows – flowers hidden in the plain.
He sits up gingerly, a sense of peace in his bosom. He has never seen such a sunny day before; he doesn’t believe there’s ever been one. His hands rest on a plush sheet, spread on the ground. A lidded wicker basket is by his feet, closed haphazardly over the neck of a bottle, left alone in a hurry perhaps.
As Choso turns to observe his surroundings, a red bloom falls from his hair, it is small, fading to pink, withered as if plucked the day before. Choso gathers the drooping red spider lily in his palm, staring at it for only a moment before his attention is dragged to his side.
Glass cylinders lie on their side, some upright. His younger brothers float still inside the containers, limbs curled close to their bodies, eyes stuck shut. He sees them for the first time since his incarnation into a human body, his fingers itch – Choso reaches for the nearest, Tanso, whose glass receptacle lays cushioned in the pleats of the petal colored picnic sheet.
Something holds him back, his hand can’t quite close around the cylinder – Choso glances up in time to see a figure rush up to his side. The smile on his face widens on its own as he watches you tread easily over the high grass swatting at your ankles, and before Choso can speak, your excited voice rings out; “Onii-chan! Look!”
"Do you like it?" Flowers are thrust under his nose, most are light purple in color though white eats away at the tips of some petals, and others – gathered in the middle of the small bouquet – are a vibrant pink. There was clear effort put into its composition judging by the gradient of colors. "Eh, Nii-chan?"
Choso's eyes slip above the pinks and purples of the flowers, slip over your face. He knows who you are at once, as if he has always carried the knowledge of your name, your face, your bright smile in his heart.
His youngest sibling stands above him, leaning down at the waist, holding the gift to his face. "Purple suits you the best; you've got to like it!"
The warm smile is replaced by a pout as his younger brother's voice reaches you, "We said we'd give it together!" Kechizu bounds close, seemingly having chased you up to the blanket. Eso walks slowly behind him, left holding onto the flowers the two youngest chose not to include in the bouquet.
You bat away Kechizu's hand when he reaches for the flowers. "I put it together, I get to give it to him!"
Undeterred, your brother protests, "I picked the flowers! Onii-cha–”
Eso's voice cracks over the petty chatter, "Stop bickering like children!" His younger brother still has a fond look upon his face despite the firm tone he adopts to scold the youngest two. “Act like you've got manners, and hand over the bouquet.”
You roll your eyes, yelping when Kechizu wrestles the flowers away – “I found the ribbon too!”
Puffing out your cheeks, you whine out; “Onii-chan! He’s lying!” The frustration in our voice alone is like a fist around his heart – you’re the youngest, you are owed some lenience. Before he can voice this, you give up the fight, and instead toe off your shoes, crawling on the blanket. “You gotta believe me! You do, don’t you!?”
You clutch his sleeve blindly as you messily wipe your face. Choso opens his arms to you, welcoming his youngest sibling. Kechizu fumes as Choso picks out the grass from your hair and clothing, “Onii-chan!” As his younger brother comes into range, Choso sweeps forward, wrapping his arms around you both and drawing you close.
His voice cuts off with a choked noise, his cheek flattened against Choso’s chest. A moment passes before you tilt your head, drawing closer to Kechizu. The latter’s free flowing blood trickles over your cheek as you mutter an apology to your older brother, “I didn’t mean it.”
Your name slips from his lips, then Kechizu’s, Eso’s, Noranso’s, Sho-oso’s, Tanso’s, Sanso’s, Kotsuso’s and Shoso’s – each syllable tearing him apart. Despite all around, his siblings’ rapt attention on him and two in his arms, there is an immeasurable sadness creeping into his chest. “You have to be nice to each other, and learn how to get along. We only have each other in this world.”
Eso draws close only to kneel by his side and lay a hand on his shoulder, uncomfortable with anything else.
“We live for each other.”
Once Choso opens his eyes, the same pressure from before weighs him down. The hand he plants over his heart does nothing to alleviate it – digging the heel of his palm until only more pain bleeds to his nerves does not distract him from the harsh truth.
His head hung low, his hair a cloud of black concealing his features but the quivering in his shoulders speak volumes.
One, his father, the progenitor who carved his mother from the inside out, Noritoshi Kamo, is not yet dead.
Two, the youngest of them all, his last sibling is dead.