Chapter Text
They’d picked a corner booth by the window. There was the grey weather outside that sometimes broke through midsummer, and together with the small yellow lamps inside the café, projecting their halos on the wooden walls, gave the atmosphere around a sulking, pessimistic and monochrome tint, in the style of a modern sepia photography. Emi, as was still the only identification Ritsu had gotten from her and anybody else, was finishing her banana smoothie in her seat across him and Shigeo. It was a tranquil afternoon, the sort that felt itchy, and so the ambient noise encompassed the tingling of cutlery and the rumbling of a slow traffic. The voices of people sitting at the other tables were so intimate and pulsing and smiley that it was hard to make out any proper conversation from them; they’d been reduced to a lullaby.
The medal responsible for their gathering there, glinted in the middle of the table, between its owner’s large cup, now empty, and Ritsu’s coffee. Shigeo had settled for a vanilla milkshake that was barely halfway down, despite their well past hour sitting there, and that stood farther to the left. Ritsu checked on its status again; he’d been actively refraining from finishing his own drink just to not let his brother be the slowest. As a result, none of their drinks were as cold or hot anymore.
“So what is it you wanted to ask me about it?,” Emi asked, her arms folded on top of the table. She raised a hand to rest her cheek on it, taking the chance to lick the sugar off her pinky. “We’ve already spent a while talking about food, and common interests and middle school years. But we came here because you said you wanted to ask me questions about the medal. So go ahead! You don’t need to stretch this.”
That task fell on Ritsu’s shoulders. His brother hadn’t said much in the whole afternoon; he’d managed to keep the small talk going by asking small questions and giving only affirmative or negative answers to his friend, or acquaintance—or whatever complicated label fitted this girl. The longest question he’d made was about whether it was okay for Emi to miss judo practice in order to accompany them, but she’d explained she had quit her club’s activities, like most third years. And the longest reply he’d given was, “I see. It was sad for me to quit too.”
Ritsu looked over at him and saw him start to toy with his half empty cup, spinning it between his fingers. Ritsu slid a hand toward the medal and knocked it a few centimeters farther to the right. It wasn’t his brother’s duty to talk about it, either way. “Is it from one of your ancestors?,” he asked.
“Not at all. No.” Emi said, looking straight at him.
Ritsu needed a moment to adjust his train of thought to that reply, because it was rendering all the questions and conclusions he’d stacked as useless. He shifted forward in his seat until the edge of the table pressed lightly into his ribs.
“Is it something you received from a relative?,” he tried again. “Seeing as it’s a judo competition medal.”
Emi’s head tilted further into her hand. She smiled. “I’m the first one in my family to ever practice judo.”
Disappointment was leaving a sour taste in Ritsu’s mouth. The conversation was leading in a different direction than what he’d been expecting. Somehow it made him annoyed.
“But you do know the story behind it, right? It was in your time capsule so it must be something you value.” Ritsu felt the movements of his hands and the expression on his face getting less friendly and more impatient.
“I don’t know any story behind it, but I do value it!,” Emi said raising her eyebrows. She fixed her gaze on the medal, which grew shinier together with lights as it got darker outside. “It was given to me by a random woman on the street. It was so weird,” she added, frowning a bit but still looking at the brilliant disc as if remembering clearly the scene. “It was years ago. Right by the end of my second year in Salt Mid. It was a time in which I had lost all of my goals and I didn’t know what to do with my future.”
Ritsu’s frown relaxed. He’d been distracted by his own frustration, but there was a swift shift in his thoughts, bringing in a new assortment of questions. He knew very well nothing about any of this was about him, but his brother, but he couldn’t help that random women on the streets being plain weird and sentiments of lacking a future hit right home with him.
“But,” Shigeo said. His interest seemed to have been picked as well, “didn’t you want to become a novel writer?” His cup of milkshake had gotten a few inches emptier when Ritsu didn’t notice it.
Emi looked at him with a strained smile. “Well, writers get blocked you know,” she said. “I had lost all inspiration right when I had finally stopped hiding my passion and so I felt very lost. Then this strange old lady came to me and just gave me the medal and she said it would guide me as long as I treasured it. I didn’t get it.” Emi reclined on the backrest of her seat. “I walked to the closest trash bin to throw it away but at the end I didn’t do it. Instead I kept it and put it in a time capsule, and then, in high school I just… decided to join the Girls Judo Club.” She shrugged and made a pause to eat the last of the small sugar topped cookies that had come in the tray with her drink. “You could say I was just curious, and getting a new hobby didn’t seem like a bad idea. The truth is I wanted to believe the medal meant something. But it was a good decision at the end, because after I entered the team I got inspired to write a new story. My writer’s block was gone! And it was all thanks to the whole story behind the club’s banner.”
“Yes, I know that story,” Shigeo said. “About how the captains didn’t know which club it was from. That’s how the treasure hunt thing started in first place. But the Judo Club won and my club had to make another one.”
“Sort of,” Emi said, rather surprised, or puzzled, “but that’s not exactly what happened.”
“That’s what I was told,” Shigeo said.
She shook her head slowly. “The banner that started everything is the same one your club has. After the first treasure hunt, the members of the Judo Club noticed a hole in the fabric that had been amended with handmade embroidering. Our banner had been donated by one of the girls in the team’s family which owned one of those industrial embroidery machines. But the basketball banner had been embroidered traditionally by the members of their Mothers Association. Differentiating the two types of embroidering can be done by an knowledgeable person. This was how, indifferently of who won the treasure hunt, the banner returned to your club and we got a new one.” She turned sideways and started rummaging in her school bag, then she got out a thick essay. When she threw it on top of the table, toward Shigeo, Ritsu could see in its cenrer the title, The Oni and the Judoka and, below that, by Emi. It looked more like a manuscript. Ritsu felt impressed by the idea of her writing this. It made him think of all the diaries he’d filled so far, and a really naïve thought clicked in his mind. What if he became a writer? The excitement that followed the thought didn’t even last a second before it withered down upon resolving that he didn’t want to be a writer beyond doing it as just a hobby.
“I gathered information from my homeroom teacher before writing my novel; she went to our school ten years ago. But of course I changed all the names of real people,” Emi said, and tapped the manuscript with her palm. “I’ll give you a summary: The manager of the Basketball Club was a third year girl who secretly dated a member of the judo team, and she was also the daughter of the Mothers Association’s leader. It turned out her mother discovered their relationship and didn’t like it so she forced her to end it. In her wrath, the girl pierced the unfinished banner with a pair of scissors, but in her leave she ran with them, tripped and a fell, causing a terrible accident to happen. She died in the hospital.”
Ritsu’s muscles had gotten tense. “What a tragic story.”
Emi nodded at him. Stern.
“But it’s weird,” Shigeo said, mostly to himself. “I didn’t feel anything from the banner when I touched it.”
Ritsu observed his brother for a little and then glanced over at the medal. An idea was occurring to him already before he stretched his hand toward the manuscript. “You said you gathered information. Is the address of the girl’s mother here? Maybe we could talk to her. It’s important.”
Shigeo looked at him as well using his intrigued stare, very similar to the rest of them, except for the way his eyebrows arched a little. But Ritsu was certain he understood his intentions right after, as he turned to Emi as well and was just as expectant.
“No, as I said I changed real names and kept real personal information out,” Emi said. Ritsu stopped his fingers close of touching the paper surface and drew back his arm, disappointment piling in him again. Emi got her phone out from her school bag now. “But I believe I still have her address in my notes. She moved out after the whole incident.” She scrolled through her phone and then her face lit up. “Here it is!,” she said, and handed it to Ritsu.
He read the address and name, adorned with a flashy font. Below, it said, 'She’s a fan of Setsubon! Ask about it - TUESDAY 18:30'.
He checked the time on the top right corner clock. It’d just changed to 17:02. He pressed the share button and got his own phone out. Like that, in less than a minute, the file was also in his own notes. “Thank you,” he said and handed her the phone back.
“Don’t mention it,” she told the phone. “At the end, vising her helped me set the tone of my story.”
And just as enthusiastically and absentmindedly as she’d made the last statement, she laced the strap of her bag around her shoulder and got up. “Well, I think I’ll be leaving. Do you have anything else you need to ask? I’m sorry I could not help you with the story of this medal.” She reached out to grab the round object.
“Don’t worry, Emi,” Shigeo said. “You’ve given us useful information.”
She pouted a bit. “Do you mind if I ask… does all this have to do with Kageyama-kun’s powers?”
Ritsu’s apprehensiveness must have made it to his face because Emi looked directly at him and tilted her head. “What? Didn’t your brother tell you about how we became good friends? My manuscript got shredded to pieces, but Kageyama-kun used his powers to fix it.” She moved her hand to mimic the way Shigeo moved his when using his psychokinesis. “It was something very impressive.”
She showed a soft smile by the time she finished talking.
“We were already good friends,” Shigeo intervened.
She dropped her hand and laughed a little laugh. “Of course.” A light shade of pink appeared on her cheeks, but it could have very well been an effect of the peachy ambience. “Kageyama-kun, I’m lending you my novel.” She gazed at the thick manuscript still on the table. “You don’t really have to read it, but if you do I’ll be looking forward to what you have to say.”
The pink of her cheeks got dark enough for there not to be doubt of it being there.
“O-Okay,” Shigeo said, looking up to her, wide-eyed.
She waved them goodbye in the rapid, light way girls did, by mostly moving her fingers, put the pay of her drink, plus a little tip, on the tray and left the café. All the while, Shigeo had freaked out and tried to ask her from his seat to take the money back. He didn’t dare to raise his voice, so at the end he was fairly convinced she didn’t hear him.
“Nii-san,” Ritsu said, starting to get up as well, “we should get going too.”
He would’ve gone into the explanation of girls liking to pay by themselves now, but he suspected all the knowledge his brother had on girls came from the hellish mixture of both Reigen’s and Hanazawa’s failures, and that was not an easy damage to counter. One was a loser and the other seemed to have learned his pick up lines from an otome game. Ritsu wasn’t that better with girls, and like Hanazawa, his popularity mostly strived from his sport skills, good grades and, as some had pointed, his good looks. But at least he wasn’t embarrassing. Although Shou would have loved to disagree on this.
When they stepped out of the café’s A.C., the humid heat crawled into Ritsu’s clothes, as suffocating as usual, but still nothing out of the ordinary. He walked down the wide sidewalk toward the zebra crossing. Ritsu stopped next to a hand holding couple waiting by the bus stop, but Shigeo kept going round the corner and turned left. At first, Ritsu only followed him with the gaze, dubious, then dragged his feet a few steps in his direction. “Nii-san? Where are you going?"
Shigeo stopped with a tranquil pace and turned over his shoulder, a mildly confused expression giving away he’d only then realized Ritsu had stayed behind. “Work?,” he said. “I’m already very late. I promised Master that I’d come early today.”
Glaring was something Ritsu did often when he’d forgotten having omitted something important and then caused a small misunderstanding. That was a default reaction in him. The glaring occasionally also caused more misunderstandings. He was glaring now, at himself, because of course it wasn’t his brother’s fault that he didn’t happen to mention him his intention was staying at that corner, waiting for the bus and going to the address he’d gotten from Emi, the writer girl.
“Say, Nii-san, don’t you want to solve this right now?”
It’d occurred to him earlier after hearing the grim story behind the banner and how his brother casually commented about how he hadn’t sensed anything from it, that if there was a chance this was a case similar to the medal one, they could dig more information about it from a direct source, and determine what was different about it. There were the possibilities of either the banner not receiving such strong memories from the tragedy surrounding it, or his brother having blocked this energy subconsciously. Both options lead to a different set of new possibilities that could be helpful in their own way.
Shigeo started walking up to him. Up close, he looked at the couple behind Ritsu for longer than he should have and then quietly placed himself next to them under the bus stop. Ritsu stared at his back before joining him. His brother’s restless hands were a sign of how anxious he was. He most likely didn’t want to do this—all this digging and inquiring about ghost feelings. Ritsu knew he had to tell him something, but nothing came to him. It was rather ridiculous how he’d spent so many years making sure nothing distressed him, making a compilation of the most comforting words to be ready to chase his troubles away the moment he needed it and here he was now, having no idea what to do or say. And with an acid feeling lurking in his lungs, he recalled that at most he’d only ever got to ask, “Are you okay, Nii-san?” or, “Do you want to talk?” And it’d always ended there. When did he and his brother actually talk?
“It won’t be hard to figure this out, you’ll see,” was the best he could manage.
Shigeo returned his gaze, but with an indecipherable intention about it. He probably meant to say something, or maybe he was already saying it. Ritsu could just stare back at him for a moment, before he felt the question peaking from between his lips. The question was too many questions at once and yet only one question. What is it Nii-san?, Is everything alright?, What’s bothering you? And so on. But he couldn’t decide on any one of these versions so when he opened his mouth he hesitated long enough for the bus to finally arrive, stealing all of their attention. They climbed in and were lucky to find a pair of empty seats together. Ritsu let Shigeo take the window because he knew how much he liked it. Now he had qualms about asking anything, but he did anyway, after picking a good option. “Are you alright, Nii-san?”
“I am,” Shigeo said. And like always, it’d end there.
But of course, Ritsu knew there was just so much time they could spent in silence, so he checked the route in his phone and said, “It’s going to take us a while to get there. About forty minutes.” Shigeo only acknowledged this by embracing his school bag, and Ritsu thought of other subjects to ask him about, just to keep talking as the bus made its haul. “So how’s work?,” he tried.
But right after he asked, he had to admit to himself he’d been battling all day long with his impulse of sneaking the question at every chance he’d had.
“It’s fine,” Shigeo said with a cheerless tone, looking out the window. “There haven’t been many big cases lately. Serizawa-san has been taking care of a lot of them. They’re not a big deal for him; never have been, but he’s gotten increasingly confident about using his powers.”
“I see.” Ritsu felt he was glaring right now and did his best to stop. “Nii-san,” he said. He knew what he was going to ask about didn’t concern him, and so it wasn’t his place to be asking about it, but he felt the untamed urge to, “do you think Reigen will be upset about your college choice?”
He thrust a nail in the tip of his thumb; this was something between his brother and his master, it didn’t involve him. Shigeo’s future had nothing to do him.
Shigeo was looking to the buildings outside staying behind one by one until they became houses and the streets got narrower.
“I was going to talk to him about it today,” he said. “I was supposed to be there early.”
And so Ritsu was hit with the understanding of why his brother was actually so distressed. It wasn’t about the ghosts, or the medal or the banner or whatever, but about this pending conversation between him and Reigen. And Ritsu had dragged him here instead, having him sit in a long bus ride when he just wanted to be at work.
“I see,” he repeated. “Maybe, after we’re done with all this you can still go there, and talk.”
“No, it’s better if I do that tomorrow. He’s going to be tired after work, and this conversation can’t be rushed.”
It was clear to Ritsu this was the sort of respect his brother felt he owed to Reigen, the way things worked between them. After this he didn’t try to keep talking. They were silent for almost all the rest of the way, until Shigeo announced he was feeling nauseous.
They got down of the bus at an old residential neighborhood more fitting of the countryside. The cloudy sky that threatened with rain that most likely was not going to happen in the next few days, gave the dusty streets a sort of melancholic look; it was something about the parked empty cars and the dull greens and the sorry rooftops that seemed to be begging for mercy.
Shigeo’s pale yellow face blended well with the background.
“If you want me I can carry you,” Ritsu said, but Shigeo held up a hand.
“I’m fine. I can walk.”
Still, Ritsu had a lot of experiences with his brother getting carsick, and a few of them were pretty ugly, so he looked around to find something that could be handy in case he decided to throw up. There was an empty flowerpot between the logs of an old fence that would do. Ritsu picked it up with his powers and let float nearby.
Following the address, they walked in line for another three minutes. Ritsu checked every house name until he found the one in Emi’s note: Fujioka.
“It’s here,” he said, looking at the plate on the stone gates.
Shigeo took time to see it too, although Ritsu had just become aware he hadn’t even told him which name they were looking for. He walked ahead of his brother toward the house entrance, knocked and waited. It was fairly apparent he’d taken all the decisions that day, but only because he was following logic; judging by how Emi had highlighted with an urgent tone the day and time for her meeting with this woman, it seemed practical to him to make their visit around the same basis. Of course, today was not Tuesday but it was still weekday. And even when it probably would make them look rude to just come here uninvited and ask questions about her late daughter, he’d figure how to sort that through.
There was no answer to his knocking, but Ritsu could definitely hear a rustle so he kept waiting. After no one came he knocked again. To his side, Shigeo was getting increasingly close to the floating pot. Again, no one came, but the rustle became louder, stiffer and the provenance of the sound was more easily identifiable. It came from outside, from grass and earth. Ritsu tuned to it when it was more like steps getting closer, and turned to the corner of the house.
He prepared a greeting, “Good evening, ma’am…”
But it wasn’t a woman who received them. A mass of spiky black hair casting stark shadows over a blood red, bizarre and grotesque face was the first thing Ritsu saw. The figure faced forward, huge fangs sprouting from his mouth, but then slowly turned to them. He was scrawny, wore loose clothes and held a rake.
When Ritsu caught a glimpse of how intently Shigeo looked at the figure, face as white as a ghost’s, he felt cold blood traveling his veins. Maybe they were looking at a real demon!
“Well, hello,” the thing said, in a chanting tone. He sounded very human.
With a hand, the demon peeled off his red skin, or rather, took off his mask, revealing a slim, eerie face beneath it. He was just a man, with a scar going all the way down his face by the middle of his right eye. A scar!, Ritsu thought. And he did indeed look familiar. He turned to his brother again, who’d only managed to look paler.
“Can I throw up now?,” Shigeo asked faintly.
So that was it. Ritsu wasn’t very sure whether that scar had been against them or siding with them during the Claw take down, but the man smiled a wide smile to them now.
“You might remember me.” He said. “You can just call me Matsuo-san.”
Ritsu raised an eyebrow. If Shigeo wasn’t worrying, then he most likely shouldn’t either.
“How can I help you?,” Matsuo asked, resting his chin on the tip of the rake stick.
Everything about all this was just weird. “We’re looking for Fujioka-san,” Ritsu said. “Is she home?”
“Oh,” Matsuo’s face lit up and that made him look creepier. “Fujioka-san is my landlady. She lets me rent one of her rooms. But sadly no, she’s out of town at the moment. Is there a message you want to leave her?”
Ritsu was starting to feel like when they were at the café and got no answers for the medal. This was all just a waste of time. And now he’d made his brother go out of his way and get nauseous for nothing. “Is that so? Then that’s all, thanks. We’ll be going now.”
He placed a hand on Shigeo’s back to offer him some support for walking. They turned around, giving some steps toward the stone fence.
“You’re being haunted by spirits’ memories.” Matsuo said to their backs. Ritsu and Shigeo turned over their shoulders to him. He was standing straight, pointing to Shigeo with the same hand with which he held the mask, his eyes glinting.
“How,” Ritsu said, his hand on his brother turning into a grip, “how can you tell?”
Matsuo lowered his pointing hand. “I can sense it from here. Spirits are my thing, you see. If you need help about that, we can have a friendly talk.” He gestured toward the house entrance. “I can make some iced tea. And you’ll have to tell me everything thoroughly.”
Ritsu, like with most things, hesitated. But if there was some important information this man could give them he didn’t want to give it up so easily. Yet it was probably not right that he kept taking decisions for his brother. But also, it wasn’t like he would have been able to decide anything right now anyway. And just getting on another bus ride home didn’t seem like the wiser thing to do in his state.
“Only if you give my brother medicine for his nausea,” Ritsu said. That was his final stance.
“We have something for that too.” Masuo rested the rake against a wall and led the way into the house. “But leave that pot outside.”
Once inside, they were made to sit around a short-legged table while the tea got prepared. The walls were covered in demon masks like the one Matsuo had been wearing, in many different colors and shapes; some were very huge. There were also clubs hanging above a nearby altar with the picture of a smiling girl placed in the middle of it. Incense had been recently lit.
“She seemed happy,” Shigeo said, and, for a moment, a dejected state took over Ritsu. Just then Matsuo arrived with three cups of lemon iced tea on a tray, relieving the atmosphere.
“Uhm, where’s my brother’s medicine?,” Ritsu asked.
Matsuo lay down the tray and gave him a narrowed stare. “Right here,” he said.
A sort of dense energy creeped behind them. It became a shiver at the back of Ritsu’s neck and then a sore shoulder before he jumped and turned around, colliding with the table and the cups on it, to face a large entity with black fur and yellow plates for eyes.
It was an evil spirit. Sitting on cold tea and ice cubes, Ritsu funneled his powers in the palm of his hand, ready to shoot.
“No exorcising my pets,” Matsuo warned him, looming over him. Then he smiled at the spirit. “Pocky-chan, give our visitor his medicine.”
The spirit turned to Shigeo with a ruffling sound and offered him a pill and a glass of water he’d been holding the whole time. Shigeo, who’d not moved at all, just thanked him and took them.
“Good boy. You can leave now,” Matsuo said, sitting down. The spirit vanished in the air, leaving behind just the great amount of space it’d occupied. “Talk to me about your problem now.”
Ritsu preferred to take care of the mess first but Shigeo saved him time by lifting all the liquid and putting it back in the cups. None of them drank anything afterwards, but the trick was familiar enough to make Ritsu smile. It was the one Shigeo used to cheer him up when they were little.
They spent then another half an hour talking about the medal, the banner, Matsuo’s landlady’s daughter, and the time capsule—Ritsu had done most of the talking, while his brother had just filled in some details and vaguely answered Matsuo’s occasional questions.
“So that’s what your cute ghost friend advised you,” he said. “I still regret having lost him,” he added, shaking his head to himself and sighing pitifully. “And there’s no surprise he’s right. ESPers like us are able to sense things common people can’t, that makes us more powerful, but in a way, also weaker. Everything can be put to perspective.”
Ritsu wasn’t sure if he fully agreed with the last remark.
“What was in the time capsule?,” Matsuo asked.
Ritsu frowned, wide eyed. He turned to his brother, who was now tense, and the previous night’s events resonated within him. He recalled that brief moment in which he’d come along Hanazawa inside the grocery store. Standing next to him by the counter, Ritsu had already figured he didn’t need him there at all, but as he paid for the popsicles, Hanazawa said, “Don’t ask Shigeo about the time capsule, please. When you two are alone, don’t do it.”
Right then Ritsu understood why he’d asked him to come in with him. “But Nii-san is—”
Hanazawa turned to him, hard expression. “I know you mean well. I know you care about him, but because you do, don’t ask him about it. It obviously hurts him in some way.”
Ritsu looked to a side. It felt terrible that he was being lectured this way because he’d been potentially causing his brother distress. He scowled.
After that, the store clerk had given Hanazawa his change and they’d walked outside.
Ritsu could not let this man make his brother talk about something that upset him. “Don’t ask him that!”, he said. “Nii-san, you don’t have to…”
“A camera,” Shigeo said. He was a lot less pale, but his lips looked dry. “And there’s a picture, inside the camera.” He swallowed, visibly.
“So it’s the film then,” Matsuo said. “You need to retrieve it.”
Shigeo looked up to him, panic-stricken. It made Ritsu angrier; he hit the table with a fist. “What? Why?”
Matsuo was unaffected.
“That’s the object you formed the strongest connection with. If you put your hands on that film and manage to block the memories, you will have found a way to efficiently protect yourself.”
Shigeo didn’t say anything. He just slowly looked down again. It bothered Ritsu that what Matsuo said made so much sense. He felt torn between making sure his brother was alright right now and in the long term. “How are you sure of that?”
Matsuo threw out his hands. “Ain’t it obvious? I work with spirits. I’m constantly exposed to them, but ghosts are all about rage, regret, sadness and despair. All of that wears on us if we don’t take previsions. I, once, was having the very same problem as your brother and had to do the same thing. If you learn to block it, you’ll be fine.”
There was a long silence after that, which Ritsu spent brooding. After a while, he caught movement by the corner of his right eye, making him turn to see Shigeo stand up. Before Ritsu had the chance to say anything, he clapped his hands together and bowed.
“Thank you very much, Matsuo-san, for the tea and the advice,” he said.
“No problem.” Matsuo half smiled at him.
Shigeo grabbed his bag and walked toward the entrance to leave. Ritsu got up quickly and rushed to him.
“Just another thing,” Matsuo added. Ritsu was the first to gaze back at him. “I’ve seen what you can do. How you can leave that body of yours behind. It’s better for someone with your abilities to stay away from spirits, even if you manage to block them. If you don’t, I can’t tell how long you’ll be able to keep their emotions away.” He got up too and winked. “And if you need help to learn the blocking part, I’m available.”
Shigeo hummed. “Thank you again,” he said and kept walking out, Ritsu close behind him. It wasn’t long before they were again walking up the street toward the bus stop they had gotten down at.
“Nii-san, what do you want to do?,” Ritsu asked after some time.
He didn’t get an instant reply. The sight of Shigeo’s hunched shoulders and bouncing hair was as ominous as the scenery beyond him. It built a certain anticipation inside of Ritsu. When his brother spoke, he said exactly what he’d feared he’d hear, “I don’t want to do it.” His voice was soft, not strained, not quivering, but it made Ritsu gasp bitterly. “I don’t want to take their treasure.”
Heat accumulated in Ritsu’s chest, but it wasn’t the suffocating weather, it was a pressure about to burst out. He replied back, but just then he realized he was not speaking, but yelling, “I’ll do it!”
He slapped his forehead, reminding himself to moderate his tone. He kept yelling, though. “I’ll get the film but leave everything else untouched! You don’t have to do it. And after it’s over I’ll put the film back.”
“Ritsu,” Shigeo said, not changing his tone or turning to him. And that was all, but it made the heat inside of Ritsu grow more desperate.
“Nii-san, please! Don’t you trust me? I’m making a promise that it’s going to be alright.”
They reached the bus stop just then, so Shigeo stopped and Ritsu did as well, still impatient for his answer. Shigeo turned around this time and only smiled, a tiny smile, one that was very unpleasant to look at. It was the one that always reminded Ritsu his brother was shorter and looked more frail and far more innocent than him but he still was the older, the wiser and more knowledgeable of the two. Right now, that was not what Ritsu wanted as an answer. He was trying to help him, this was what had to be done.
“Let me do this, Nii-san,” he said, or yelled again, this time he wasn’t all that sure.
Shigeo’s smile became tinier until it was gone, but not the original message he’d tried to convey; him being the older was still clear.
The heat became a bubble and the bubble puffed and it turned to water, water running all over Ritsu’s body, until it collected in his eyes, stinging.
The water spilled down.
“Please… please, Nii-san, let me do this. When...” He knew what he was going to say wasn’t fair, and had nothing to do with their current conversation but he had to let it out. He knew he’d feel guilty afterwards. “When will I stop being an hindrance to you? Please let me help you!”
There was no one else beside them around on the street, except for a stray cat smelling the base of a nearby electric post. It lifted its head at Ritsu and then ran away.
The sky was the color of iron above them. The houses’ interiors were already illuminated. Someone, far away, was watching a comedy show and the volume was too high.
Shigeo’s face was now pained. His eyes were fixed on Ritsu’s tears and Ritsu regretted it all because he had not intended to cry, or to make Shigeo make this face. He regretted it all because none of the things he said were as important as he was making them out to be.
“I don’t know what I should do, Ritsu,” Shigeo said. It was something he’d say in any situation. A default response. Ritsu had to fill in the space, to guess what Shigeo was truly thinking about. And it made Ritsu cry harder. He pulled at his face and his hair and just now he realized, he was angry. Tell me something, anything!, he thought. Talk to me the way you talk to Hanazawa-kun!
He shook his head. He most likely didn’t talk to him either. Hanazawa had figured on his own it was best not to ask him about the time capsule. He understood his brother better than he ever could and that was why he was so angry. All this time, with their unbreakable blood bond, and all the little things he’d learned to pick from his brother’s behavior which at times let him grasp an idea of what he was feeling, and he still had to try hard to fill in the gaps. Still, he didn’t know what to tell him to comfort him. Still, he thought of asking questions in a bus ride for the fear of the silence turning awkward. It’d been four years since their first real fight, and just like that time he still failed miserably at expressing his feelings to his brother.
He heard Shigeo getting closer, the brush of his sole against the rocky pavement, and then a thud. His hand was shaky when he placed it on the plate of his back. Ritsu could feel how he struggled to say something ‘correct’. But Ritsu didn’t want to hear something correct. “If I…,” Shigeo said.
No! Not I! Ritsu grabbed onto his shoulders, startling his brother enough to feel him jump under his hands. “You don’t have to do this alone, Nii-san!,” he said. And it seemed, like finally, he’d said one of the things that truly mattered. Mostly because he’d had the words at the tip of his tongue so many times before and this time he couldn’t held them back.
Shigeo shrank, and looked at his eyes focusing on one and then the other. He did that when they were little, when he was intently listening to him. It made Ritsu feel a twist inside, a sudden and contradicting need to make him feel safe and on higher ground again. But the truth remained he was hurt.
Ritsu’s cheeks were still cold with his flooding tears. It seemed like it passed a lot of time, but they were barely seconds before Shigeo nodded, and looked down, and an “sss” sound escaped his lips. Ritsu suspected he’d meant to say sorry and most likely got scared of it. He’d usually stay quiet than apologize if he’d feared it’d worsen the situation.
Ritsu laughed once, but it wasn’t a laugh. He let his head hang, and looked down at the space between his feet and his brother’s, at the pebbles and the undergrowth. At his tears leaving dark dots on the ground. But all that got eclipsed by a wobbly, gauzy mass. Water. It was floating water, shapeless and dancing and wavy. That was their trick. Ritsu slid his hands off Shigeo’s shoulder and plunged his fingers in the clear liquid. It was fresh and ticklish, and it made him smile, just like earlier.
“If Ritsu says it’s going to be alright, then it will be,” his brother said.
Another sob escaped him, and he let out a noiseless sigh. He got a yes, but he could tell it was empty, and that was still not what he wanted from Shigeo. But it was something, he supposed. “Thank you,” he said.
The floating water ran between his fingers and flew back to the plastic bucket, under the nearest house’s dripping A.C., it’d come from. Shigeo had led it with two fingers.
It was still a quiet evening. They waited for the bus in silence, Ritsu wiping his damp eyes with both wrists, and Shigeo lost in his thoughts.