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ninoexchange2012-06-24 10:27 pm
nino-mod.livejournal.com) wrote in ninoexchange2012-06-24 10:27 pm
Entry tags:
fic for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
yoshiblack16
For: yoshiblack16
From:alphie_damiek
Title: Ichigo
Pairing/Focus: None
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Angst, Mentioning of Theoretical Incest(no actual incest), Language
Summary: AU (My Girl). Shiro and his mom share the same birthday, and it’s their first without her.
Notes: I do hope I did your prompt justice,yoshiblack16. Writing angst was a bit of a challenge for me, but I hope it doesn’t show that much. Thanks go out to my awesome beta, I, for keeping me on track.
The photo that sits in their living room isn’t the only one they have of her. There are whole albums of her: growing up, finishing college, the day she and dad bought the house. And a baby book for each son, filled with pictures of her pregnancy and how she was there with the boys every step of the way. Each memory could be it’s own album, really.
Shiro looks at the photo of all of them together, two weeks before their mother passed away. She had been given the OK to go home, and the photo was taken at the dinner table. They had oden that night, one of the few foods she could still eat. He smiles, remembering how Jiro went out of his way and bought extra naruto because it was her favorite, and Ichiro had even caught a fish for the occasion. They left a space in the table as a memento for their father, as per tradition. The photo on the wall was the best of the bunch; in their excitement they were never able to match the camera timer. Saburo’s eyes were half-closed and Ichiro was already eating. But they were so happy.
It would be their last dinner together. She suffered a relapse the next day and died within a week of being re-admitted. There are two photos of the five of them from their mother’s funeral: one in front of her memorial photo, and one from her stone next to their dad’s. Those photos are hidden in a drawer somewhere in Jiro and Ichiro’s room.
Since then, there have been no more pictures to add to their wall or their albums.
Shiro looks past the photo next to their mom’s shrine and at the calendar hanging on the wall. Saturday, June 3rd. Fourteen days until his birthday, until their birthday.
Shiro and their mother share a birthday. This year will be their first birthday without their mom, and no one’s brought it up. He takes another look, his eyes going back and forth between the photo and the calendar. With a tighter grip on his bag, Shiro makes his way to work.
“Should we still have a party?” Saburo asks. Jiro shrugs.
Saburo, Jiro, and Goro are all in the living room, watching cartoons (Saburo’s choice). Saburo’s question comes up after they see a commercial for birthday specials at the local pizza place. Jiro lowers the volume with the remote.
“Has anyone thought to ask Shiro?” Jiro looks between his two younger brothers. Saburo shakes his head, and Goro looks away. They both have crestfallen looks. This isn’t the first time Jiro’s had to deal with this, with not knowing how to put the pieces back together. After a minute, Goro sighs.
“It doesn’t seem like Shiro wants to,” Goro says, picking at a fray in his school uniform.
Jiro’s eyes narrow. “How do you know?” Goro shuffles his shoulders in an attempt at a nonchalant response.
“He just hasn’t mentioned it.”
Saburo shakes his head. “We don’t know that. Shiro’s not the type to talk about what he wants, right?” He looks to Jiro, who nods in agreement. “Jiro, what do you think? Should we ask him?”
“Well, in the end, it should be up to Shiro to decide what he wants.”
“Let’s ask Ichiro,” is what he decides. “That’s probably the next best thing. Ichiro would know what Shiro wants.”
“Yeah,” Saburo agrees. “That’s usually the case, right? It’s almost as if…” but the thought stops.
It’s a touchy subject, and it never goes further than speculation. They’ve always questioned it; the way Shiro clings to Ichiro, the way they seem to share the same wavelength in a way that none of the other brothers have experienced, not even when they’ve had girlfriends. Sometimes, when Shiro and Ichiro sit together on the couch, they stick so closely together that the other brothers could probably fit on the couch with no problem.
And it would have been fine when they were younger. Once, when they were kids, Goro complained to Shiro, berating him over how he seemed to monopolize Ichiro’s company. The only thing Shiro did in response was stick his tongue out to blow a raspberry towards Goro’s face before he clung even harder to his eldest brother.
Since then, no one really mentions it.
Jiro stands, patting each of them on the shoulder before he makes his way to his and Saburo’s room. When he closes the door with a soft, echoing click, he lets out the shaky breath he didn’t know he was holding.
Since when had all this responsibility fallen onto his shoulders?
Shiro can feel it, like the constant buzzing of a mosquito behind his ear.
Saburo has been giving him wistful, expectant looks. Jiro has been putting in extra effort into making sure the house is organized, especially when Shiro’s around. Goro hasn’t been doing anything out of the ordinary; in fact, it’s as if Goro’s the only one unaffected by Shiro’s presence. And while that’s fine when it’s him and Goro in their room at night, it’s starting to make Shiro just a little more restless in every other place in the house, save one.
He walks to Ichiro’s room. Without knocking he opens the door to find his the eldest organizing the fishing lures in his bait box.
“Gonna find me a giant tuna this time?” Ichiro peers over his shoulder at Shiro while he twirls a lure between his fingers. It accidentally scrapes against a finger and he yelps, dropping the lure under his desk. His voice is muffled as he searches, delicately, for the missing lure.
“Tides haven’t been coming in as high, so the chances of catching one are pretty much slim to none.”
Shiro doesn’t question Ichiro, but it doesn’t mean he can take “no” for an answer. Smirking, he sits on Ichiro’s bed and hits him with a pillow. “Well you can catch it for my birthday.” He hears the oomph that Ichiro makes as he bends over to pick it up. Slowly he turns his chair around so he can properly face Shiro, wrapping his arms around the pillow.
“Do you know what you want to do for your birthday?”
Shiro stops fiddling with Ichiro’s Pikachu plush.
Ahh, so that’s what it is.
But it doesn’t shake the other feeling he has, that’s been hiding in his chest since he looked at those pictures on the wall. Sighing, he lies down and makes himself comfortable on the bed, not facing Ichiro.
“What do you think I should do?”
Ichiro shrugs. “It’s your birthday, not mine.”
But your opinion matters, Shiro thinks. Everyone’s does. As does everyone’s expectations. Because Shiro’s birthday is more than just that.
“It just doesn’t seem right to celebrate.” Shiro pushes himself up to a seated position, his shoulders slumped and the Pikachu plush smiling at him from his lap. “Maybe we should just visit mom and dad? Do you think that would be good idea?”
Ichiro looks out the window, thinking it through. Shiro hopes Ichiro can find the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow in this mess. He’s the oldest; he’s had to deal with everyone the longest. Finally, he looks back at Shiro, his eyes still sleepy, but clear. “I’m sure everyone will see it that way.”
“We’ll visit mom, and that’s it.” Shiro nods in agreement. Well, that settles that.
“Hey.”
Goro knows Shiro’s listening, even though he’s facing the TV and his hands are busy with the X-Box controller. Something flashes on the screen. Goro doesn’t bother to memorize all of Shiro’s game collection, and from the cave-like backgrounds it looks like another dungeon crawler.
Goro opens his mouth, closes it, letting the sounds of the game overpower his courage. He doesn’t try to move closer.
After a few moments, Shiro turns his head ever so slightly. His character’s breasts are bouncing in front of him.
“Hmm?” Shiro’s eyebrows arch up as he meets Goro’s gaze. It’s unsettling that Shiro expects something from Goro, when it should be the other way around.
Goro shakes his head, grabs his book bag, and makes his way out the door.
Shiro’s gaze stays where Goro used to be for a few more moments. He hears his character cry in anguish as she’s stepped on by an ogre and dies.
A week before Shiro’s birthday sees all the brothers eating together at the dinner table. It hasn’t been like this in a long time. Ichiro, Jiro, and Saburo work varying hours (plus Jiro’s college courses), with Shiro playing games when he’s not at work. He also doesn’t eat at the table if he can help it. Goro, still in high school, keeps himself busy with a variety of after-school programs.
The air is filled with an awkward tension. Each person has his own reason for keeping silent.
“Shiro,” Jiro begins. “Have you thought about what you want to do with your birthday?”
The sounds of utensils rattling against plates stops. Everyone closes their mouths and looks towards Shiro. He doesn’t meet anyone’s gaze and instead looks down at his plate, slowly stirring the food around as he thinks.
“Ahh, hmm.” Shiro scratches his head in though. He hesitates in revealing what he and Ichiro talked about a few days before, because he doesn’t know what kind of reaction he’ll get from the rest of his siblings. “No, I haven’t really thought it though. I kind of have an idea, but it’s whatever everyone else wants, really.”
“Well, if you want, we can buy a cake and—”
Goro scoffs from his seat next to Saburo. “Really, Shiro? Really?” Everyone’s stare moves to Goro. Shiro squints at him.
“Hey, you shut up, Goro. I don’t see you coming up with any ideas.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? You DO know you share a birthday with mom, right? And you obviously don’t care about her enough to—”
“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Shiro stands, his chair crashing behind him, his fists gripping his utensils. His eyes are livid as they meet Goro’s.
“I don’t know where the fuck you get around thinking that this is my fault or something. Are you fucking ignorant? Do you think I forgot that mom’s birthday is the same as mine? Did you really think that?” The question ends sharply, like a dagger trying to pierce through all the haze they’ve been in since mom’s death. Goro doesn’t respond, instead looking away.
It frustrates Shiro even more.
“Oh, I’m sorry, but did you forget she’s my mom too?”
“Shiro, calm down,” Saburo pleads. Jiro starts to stand, arms spread in a diplomatic matter. Before he can say anything, Goro storms out, slamming the door to his and Shiro’s room. Shiro glares at the door before making his way to the backyard.
Jiro sighs and Saburo pushes his plate away. They look to Ichiro, who hadn’t said a word or made a movement since the beginning of the explosion.
“Ichiro,” Saburo starts. “Can you please act like you’re the eldest here for once? Can’t you do something to help fix this?”
When Ichiro looks up, Saburo’s eyes are watering and Jiro’s gaze looks so open, so hollow that it makes Ichiro want to look away, but he can’t. Jiro pleads with him.
“Ichiro, I don’t know how I should feel. I don’t know how to deal with this anymore. Please.”
Saburo stands up. “I can talk to Goro and—”
Jiro shakes his head. “Let’s give Goro his space. We’ll deal with him later.” When he looks up, Ichiro’s already gone.
Ichiro opens the door to the backyard and looks as Shiro lies on the grass and stares up at the starry sky. Shiro has an aura about him that Ichiro can feel as he slowly lies next to him.
It’s faint, and yet so overwhelming at the same time. It shouldn’t be guilt but it is. Ichiro waits, lets Shiro collect his thoughts.
“I’m not trying to demean mom’s memory.”
“I know.”
Shiro scoffs. “How do you know? How can you know, how can Jiro and Saburo know, but Goro’s too thick to understand it?” He rolls over so that his head is resting on Ichiro’s chest, letting his older brother’s even breathing calm him down. It’s a comforting, familiar weight that’s always been at Shiro’s side since he can remember. Ichiro smells like the burnt fish Jiro tried making for dinner, smells like his room, the living room, the nostalgia surrounding this house and the years they’ve had together, the smell of the photos and picture frames in the hallway. It’s overwhelming and calming all at once. He takes another deep breath before he sits up, looking to the stars as he speaks.
“Let’s go apologize to Goro, shall we?”
Shiro knocks on his and Goro’s bedroom door. There’s no response, but they can hear a rustling of papers and books. Shiro knocks again.
“I’m studying!”
Shiro looks to Ichiro. If it were any other situation, Shiro would have no qualms about barging in. His fingers softly run across the doorknob, contemplating. He feels a hand on his arm and Ichiro is tugging him away so he can open the door himself.
Goro’s lamp is the only source of light in their small room, and Ichiro and Shiro can see Goro hunched in front of his desk. His shoulders are hunched up, and he’s got a hand roughly curled into his hair. When he hears the door open, he moves quickly, turning to the intruders and glaring at them. It’s no longer got the bite from the dining room. Instead it looks tired, older than the 18 years he is.
“Can I help you?”
Shiro clenches his fists, but doesn’t try to react negatively. Instead, he takes a few deep breaths and collects his thoughts before he speaks. He feels Ichiro’s presence and it helps keep him calm.
“About earlier. I don’t know why you thought the things you did, and I sorry if I influenced you to think that way. I think we’re both had some kind of misunderstanding back there. So… I’m sorry. I don’t want you thinking I don’t care about mom, or that we’re all ignoring the fact that this will be the first year she won’t be here to celebrate her birthday. We all know that. And I….” Shiro sighs, flustered. It’s difficult, trying to summarize his emotions from the last two weeks, last year, every since his mom smiled at them for the last time from her hospital bed.
“Look, I know and everyone knows and I’m hoping you know what I’m trying to say.”
Goro’s gaze doesn’t change or lose it’s focus, but slowly, he nods his head. Shiro gives a half-hearted smile before he and Ichiro leave the room.
“How do you do it?” Goro asks Jiro, leaning against the door to the bathroom. He waits and watches as Jiro finishes brushing his teeth. Jiro wipes his mouth with a nearby towel before meeting Goro’s look in front of the mirror.
“It’s not that I don’t have my moments,” Jiro explains slowly, carefully, delicate like his words are skating over broken glass. “Because I do. But more than that, I concentrate on moving forward. Ichiro does too. Saburo, Shiro, we’re all trying to.” He turns to Goro. “And I know you are too. It still hurts, I know.”
Goro has one more question.
“Were we always this broken?”
Jiro doesn’t know how to respond. He didn’t realize Goro was wondering the same thing. Then again, he forgets that even though he’s the youngest, Goro’s still an adult.
“It doesn’t matter how broken we are. We’re here to put the pieces back together.”
Shiro listens as Goro climbs up the ladder to his bed, feels Goro adjust under the covers. He tries to listen for any kind of reaction. Nothing but slow breathing. Shiro waits a few moments, his nerves starting to settle, before he speaks.
“I love her too. Please don’t ever think otherwise.”
Shiro can’t tell if Goro responded, doesn’t know if Goro even heard him. He’s a few seconds from sleep, feeling the haze take over, eyes closing, when he hears it, softly and slightly raw.
“I know.”
========================
Shiro and Goro wake up at 9AM. It’s early for a weekend. By the time they have their suits on, everyone else is at the dining room table. Saburo has the bouquets of flowers, Jiro has the picnic basket.
“Sorry to make you wait.” Shiro bites his lip. Jiro just shakes his head, smiling as they make their way towards the front door.
Saburo looks at his younger brothers as they stand along the hallway. “We look kind of stiff for people who are supposed to be celebrating.” Next to him, Goro gives a slight chuckle, and it makes Shiro smile as well. Jiro looks over at them fondly.
Ichiro looks up and his eyes graze over each of his brothers. His eyes meet Shiro’s and he smiles.
“We’re not celebrating death. We’re celebrating life.”
========================
Shiro watches Goro packs his books. The transition from high school to college hasn’t been easy, but he hasn’t heard Goro complain. Thankfully he has Jiro to help him, and he’s actually started relaxing more around Shiro, even playing video games with him when he’s not studying. Transitions are always difficult, but thankfully they have each other. He keeps that content feeling as he watches Goro walk past the photos in the hall. They’ve added new ones, including photos from his and mom’s birthday. His favorite has all five of them sitting in a semi-circle in front of the two markers, glasses of tea raised with a piece of cake in front of each of them, including a slice of cake near each of their grave markers. For the setting, they all look very happy. It’s a genuine type of happiness, one that’s been a long time coming. It’s a memory that makes him smile.
And makes him think about what they should do for his and mom’s birthday this year.
yoshiblack16From:
alphie_damiekTitle: Ichigo
Pairing/Focus: None
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Angst, Mentioning of Theoretical Incest(no actual incest), Language
Summary: AU (My Girl). Shiro and his mom share the same birthday, and it’s their first without her.
Notes: I do hope I did your prompt justice,
yoshiblack16. Writing angst was a bit of a challenge for me, but I hope it doesn’t show that much. Thanks go out to my awesome beta, I, for keeping me on track.The photo that sits in their living room isn’t the only one they have of her. There are whole albums of her: growing up, finishing college, the day she and dad bought the house. And a baby book for each son, filled with pictures of her pregnancy and how she was there with the boys every step of the way. Each memory could be it’s own album, really.
Shiro looks at the photo of all of them together, two weeks before their mother passed away. She had been given the OK to go home, and the photo was taken at the dinner table. They had oden that night, one of the few foods she could still eat. He smiles, remembering how Jiro went out of his way and bought extra naruto because it was her favorite, and Ichiro had even caught a fish for the occasion. They left a space in the table as a memento for their father, as per tradition. The photo on the wall was the best of the bunch; in their excitement they were never able to match the camera timer. Saburo’s eyes were half-closed and Ichiro was already eating. But they were so happy.
It would be their last dinner together. She suffered a relapse the next day and died within a week of being re-admitted. There are two photos of the five of them from their mother’s funeral: one in front of her memorial photo, and one from her stone next to their dad’s. Those photos are hidden in a drawer somewhere in Jiro and Ichiro’s room.
Since then, there have been no more pictures to add to their wall or their albums.
Shiro looks past the photo next to their mom’s shrine and at the calendar hanging on the wall. Saturday, June 3rd. Fourteen days until his birthday, until their birthday.
Shiro and their mother share a birthday. This year will be their first birthday without their mom, and no one’s brought it up. He takes another look, his eyes going back and forth between the photo and the calendar. With a tighter grip on his bag, Shiro makes his way to work.
“Should we still have a party?” Saburo asks. Jiro shrugs.
Saburo, Jiro, and Goro are all in the living room, watching cartoons (Saburo’s choice). Saburo’s question comes up after they see a commercial for birthday specials at the local pizza place. Jiro lowers the volume with the remote.
“Has anyone thought to ask Shiro?” Jiro looks between his two younger brothers. Saburo shakes his head, and Goro looks away. They both have crestfallen looks. This isn’t the first time Jiro’s had to deal with this, with not knowing how to put the pieces back together. After a minute, Goro sighs.
“It doesn’t seem like Shiro wants to,” Goro says, picking at a fray in his school uniform.
Jiro’s eyes narrow. “How do you know?” Goro shuffles his shoulders in an attempt at a nonchalant response.
“He just hasn’t mentioned it.”
Saburo shakes his head. “We don’t know that. Shiro’s not the type to talk about what he wants, right?” He looks to Jiro, who nods in agreement. “Jiro, what do you think? Should we ask him?”
“Well, in the end, it should be up to Shiro to decide what he wants.”
“Let’s ask Ichiro,” is what he decides. “That’s probably the next best thing. Ichiro would know what Shiro wants.”
“Yeah,” Saburo agrees. “That’s usually the case, right? It’s almost as if…” but the thought stops.
It’s a touchy subject, and it never goes further than speculation. They’ve always questioned it; the way Shiro clings to Ichiro, the way they seem to share the same wavelength in a way that none of the other brothers have experienced, not even when they’ve had girlfriends. Sometimes, when Shiro and Ichiro sit together on the couch, they stick so closely together that the other brothers could probably fit on the couch with no problem.
And it would have been fine when they were younger. Once, when they were kids, Goro complained to Shiro, berating him over how he seemed to monopolize Ichiro’s company. The only thing Shiro did in response was stick his tongue out to blow a raspberry towards Goro’s face before he clung even harder to his eldest brother.
Since then, no one really mentions it.
Jiro stands, patting each of them on the shoulder before he makes his way to his and Saburo’s room. When he closes the door with a soft, echoing click, he lets out the shaky breath he didn’t know he was holding.
Since when had all this responsibility fallen onto his shoulders?
Shiro can feel it, like the constant buzzing of a mosquito behind his ear.
Saburo has been giving him wistful, expectant looks. Jiro has been putting in extra effort into making sure the house is organized, especially when Shiro’s around. Goro hasn’t been doing anything out of the ordinary; in fact, it’s as if Goro’s the only one unaffected by Shiro’s presence. And while that’s fine when it’s him and Goro in their room at night, it’s starting to make Shiro just a little more restless in every other place in the house, save one.
He walks to Ichiro’s room. Without knocking he opens the door to find his the eldest organizing the fishing lures in his bait box.
“Gonna find me a giant tuna this time?” Ichiro peers over his shoulder at Shiro while he twirls a lure between his fingers. It accidentally scrapes against a finger and he yelps, dropping the lure under his desk. His voice is muffled as he searches, delicately, for the missing lure.
“Tides haven’t been coming in as high, so the chances of catching one are pretty much slim to none.”
Shiro doesn’t question Ichiro, but it doesn’t mean he can take “no” for an answer. Smirking, he sits on Ichiro’s bed and hits him with a pillow. “Well you can catch it for my birthday.” He hears the oomph that Ichiro makes as he bends over to pick it up. Slowly he turns his chair around so he can properly face Shiro, wrapping his arms around the pillow.
“Do you know what you want to do for your birthday?”
Shiro stops fiddling with Ichiro’s Pikachu plush.
Ahh, so that’s what it is.
But it doesn’t shake the other feeling he has, that’s been hiding in his chest since he looked at those pictures on the wall. Sighing, he lies down and makes himself comfortable on the bed, not facing Ichiro.
“What do you think I should do?”
Ichiro shrugs. “It’s your birthday, not mine.”
But your opinion matters, Shiro thinks. Everyone’s does. As does everyone’s expectations. Because Shiro’s birthday is more than just that.
“It just doesn’t seem right to celebrate.” Shiro pushes himself up to a seated position, his shoulders slumped and the Pikachu plush smiling at him from his lap. “Maybe we should just visit mom and dad? Do you think that would be good idea?”
Ichiro looks out the window, thinking it through. Shiro hopes Ichiro can find the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow in this mess. He’s the oldest; he’s had to deal with everyone the longest. Finally, he looks back at Shiro, his eyes still sleepy, but clear. “I’m sure everyone will see it that way.”
“We’ll visit mom, and that’s it.” Shiro nods in agreement. Well, that settles that.
“Hey.”
Goro knows Shiro’s listening, even though he’s facing the TV and his hands are busy with the X-Box controller. Something flashes on the screen. Goro doesn’t bother to memorize all of Shiro’s game collection, and from the cave-like backgrounds it looks like another dungeon crawler.
Goro opens his mouth, closes it, letting the sounds of the game overpower his courage. He doesn’t try to move closer.
After a few moments, Shiro turns his head ever so slightly. His character’s breasts are bouncing in front of him.
“Hmm?” Shiro’s eyebrows arch up as he meets Goro’s gaze. It’s unsettling that Shiro expects something from Goro, when it should be the other way around.
Goro shakes his head, grabs his book bag, and makes his way out the door.
Shiro’s gaze stays where Goro used to be for a few more moments. He hears his character cry in anguish as she’s stepped on by an ogre and dies.
A week before Shiro’s birthday sees all the brothers eating together at the dinner table. It hasn’t been like this in a long time. Ichiro, Jiro, and Saburo work varying hours (plus Jiro’s college courses), with Shiro playing games when he’s not at work. He also doesn’t eat at the table if he can help it. Goro, still in high school, keeps himself busy with a variety of after-school programs.
The air is filled with an awkward tension. Each person has his own reason for keeping silent.
“Shiro,” Jiro begins. “Have you thought about what you want to do with your birthday?”
The sounds of utensils rattling against plates stops. Everyone closes their mouths and looks towards Shiro. He doesn’t meet anyone’s gaze and instead looks down at his plate, slowly stirring the food around as he thinks.
“Ahh, hmm.” Shiro scratches his head in though. He hesitates in revealing what he and Ichiro talked about a few days before, because he doesn’t know what kind of reaction he’ll get from the rest of his siblings. “No, I haven’t really thought it though. I kind of have an idea, but it’s whatever everyone else wants, really.”
“Well, if you want, we can buy a cake and—”
Goro scoffs from his seat next to Saburo. “Really, Shiro? Really?” Everyone’s stare moves to Goro. Shiro squints at him.
“Hey, you shut up, Goro. I don’t see you coming up with any ideas.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? You DO know you share a birthday with mom, right? And you obviously don’t care about her enough to—”
“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Shiro stands, his chair crashing behind him, his fists gripping his utensils. His eyes are livid as they meet Goro’s.
“I don’t know where the fuck you get around thinking that this is my fault or something. Are you fucking ignorant? Do you think I forgot that mom’s birthday is the same as mine? Did you really think that?” The question ends sharply, like a dagger trying to pierce through all the haze they’ve been in since mom’s death. Goro doesn’t respond, instead looking away.
It frustrates Shiro even more.
“Oh, I’m sorry, but did you forget she’s my mom too?”
“Shiro, calm down,” Saburo pleads. Jiro starts to stand, arms spread in a diplomatic matter. Before he can say anything, Goro storms out, slamming the door to his and Shiro’s room. Shiro glares at the door before making his way to the backyard.
Jiro sighs and Saburo pushes his plate away. They look to Ichiro, who hadn’t said a word or made a movement since the beginning of the explosion.
“Ichiro,” Saburo starts. “Can you please act like you’re the eldest here for once? Can’t you do something to help fix this?”
When Ichiro looks up, Saburo’s eyes are watering and Jiro’s gaze looks so open, so hollow that it makes Ichiro want to look away, but he can’t. Jiro pleads with him.
“Ichiro, I don’t know how I should feel. I don’t know how to deal with this anymore. Please.”
Saburo stands up. “I can talk to Goro and—”
Jiro shakes his head. “Let’s give Goro his space. We’ll deal with him later.” When he looks up, Ichiro’s already gone.
Ichiro opens the door to the backyard and looks as Shiro lies on the grass and stares up at the starry sky. Shiro has an aura about him that Ichiro can feel as he slowly lies next to him.
It’s faint, and yet so overwhelming at the same time. It shouldn’t be guilt but it is. Ichiro waits, lets Shiro collect his thoughts.
“I’m not trying to demean mom’s memory.”
“I know.”
Shiro scoffs. “How do you know? How can you know, how can Jiro and Saburo know, but Goro’s too thick to understand it?” He rolls over so that his head is resting on Ichiro’s chest, letting his older brother’s even breathing calm him down. It’s a comforting, familiar weight that’s always been at Shiro’s side since he can remember. Ichiro smells like the burnt fish Jiro tried making for dinner, smells like his room, the living room, the nostalgia surrounding this house and the years they’ve had together, the smell of the photos and picture frames in the hallway. It’s overwhelming and calming all at once. He takes another deep breath before he sits up, looking to the stars as he speaks.
“Let’s go apologize to Goro, shall we?”
Shiro knocks on his and Goro’s bedroom door. There’s no response, but they can hear a rustling of papers and books. Shiro knocks again.
“I’m studying!”
Shiro looks to Ichiro. If it were any other situation, Shiro would have no qualms about barging in. His fingers softly run across the doorknob, contemplating. He feels a hand on his arm and Ichiro is tugging him away so he can open the door himself.
Goro’s lamp is the only source of light in their small room, and Ichiro and Shiro can see Goro hunched in front of his desk. His shoulders are hunched up, and he’s got a hand roughly curled into his hair. When he hears the door open, he moves quickly, turning to the intruders and glaring at them. It’s no longer got the bite from the dining room. Instead it looks tired, older than the 18 years he is.
“Can I help you?”
Shiro clenches his fists, but doesn’t try to react negatively. Instead, he takes a few deep breaths and collects his thoughts before he speaks. He feels Ichiro’s presence and it helps keep him calm.
“About earlier. I don’t know why you thought the things you did, and I sorry if I influenced you to think that way. I think we’re both had some kind of misunderstanding back there. So… I’m sorry. I don’t want you thinking I don’t care about mom, or that we’re all ignoring the fact that this will be the first year she won’t be here to celebrate her birthday. We all know that. And I….” Shiro sighs, flustered. It’s difficult, trying to summarize his emotions from the last two weeks, last year, every since his mom smiled at them for the last time from her hospital bed.
“Look, I know and everyone knows and I’m hoping you know what I’m trying to say.”
Goro’s gaze doesn’t change or lose it’s focus, but slowly, he nods his head. Shiro gives a half-hearted smile before he and Ichiro leave the room.
“How do you do it?” Goro asks Jiro, leaning against the door to the bathroom. He waits and watches as Jiro finishes brushing his teeth. Jiro wipes his mouth with a nearby towel before meeting Goro’s look in front of the mirror.
“It’s not that I don’t have my moments,” Jiro explains slowly, carefully, delicate like his words are skating over broken glass. “Because I do. But more than that, I concentrate on moving forward. Ichiro does too. Saburo, Shiro, we’re all trying to.” He turns to Goro. “And I know you are too. It still hurts, I know.”
Goro has one more question.
“Were we always this broken?”
Jiro doesn’t know how to respond. He didn’t realize Goro was wondering the same thing. Then again, he forgets that even though he’s the youngest, Goro’s still an adult.
“It doesn’t matter how broken we are. We’re here to put the pieces back together.”
Shiro listens as Goro climbs up the ladder to his bed, feels Goro adjust under the covers. He tries to listen for any kind of reaction. Nothing but slow breathing. Shiro waits a few moments, his nerves starting to settle, before he speaks.
“I love her too. Please don’t ever think otherwise.”
Shiro can’t tell if Goro responded, doesn’t know if Goro even heard him. He’s a few seconds from sleep, feeling the haze take over, eyes closing, when he hears it, softly and slightly raw.
“I know.”
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Shiro and Goro wake up at 9AM. It’s early for a weekend. By the time they have their suits on, everyone else is at the dining room table. Saburo has the bouquets of flowers, Jiro has the picnic basket.
“Sorry to make you wait.” Shiro bites his lip. Jiro just shakes his head, smiling as they make their way towards the front door.
Saburo looks at his younger brothers as they stand along the hallway. “We look kind of stiff for people who are supposed to be celebrating.” Next to him, Goro gives a slight chuckle, and it makes Shiro smile as well. Jiro looks over at them fondly.
Ichiro looks up and his eyes graze over each of his brothers. His eyes meet Shiro’s and he smiles.
“We’re not celebrating death. We’re celebrating life.”
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Shiro watches Goro packs his books. The transition from high school to college hasn’t been easy, but he hasn’t heard Goro complain. Thankfully he has Jiro to help him, and he’s actually started relaxing more around Shiro, even playing video games with him when he’s not studying. Transitions are always difficult, but thankfully they have each other. He keeps that content feeling as he watches Goro walk past the photos in the hall. They’ve added new ones, including photos from his and mom’s birthday. His favorite has all five of them sitting in a semi-circle in front of the two markers, glasses of tea raised with a piece of cake in front of each of them, including a slice of cake near each of their grave markers. For the setting, they all look very happy. It’s a genuine type of happiness, one that’s been a long time coming. It’s a memory that makes him smile.
And makes him think about what they should do for his and mom’s birthday this year.
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Thank you so much for writing this.
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