Chapter Text
Jiro isn't stupid.
Despite anything Saburo may say or do to imply otherwise, this is something that Saburo knows for a fact. Academics are one thing, but even Saburo isn't so shallow as to believe that his report card will determine the true nature of his intelligence. Ichi-nii, after all, had never been the best in academics either, but he has a quick wit and a clever mind.
Saburo says a great many things about Jiro's intelligence, none of which he truly believes with any conviction. They're not things that Jiro will believe either, because for all his faults, Jiro is headstrong and self-assured, and has the kind of lovable stubbornness that would make him a wonderful shounen protagonist. He simply does not give up nor give in, doesn't let anything push him down. Saburo silently admires him for it.
And so the jabs continue, and Jiro retorts back, and Saburo is content with this sort of teasing arguments. Until one day, Saburo goes too far.
It's Saturday night. Dinner has been eaten and cleaned up, and Ichiro retired to his room to watch anime, and Jiro's at his desk writing… something. Saburo isn't sure what it is, and he doesn't give it much notice. He's much more absorbed in the game he's playing on his phone.
He is until he hears something tap, tap, tapping on the desk, throwing him off rhythm and costing him his full combo. Saburo scowls, pulling his earphones out and sitting up straight to glare at Jiro.
"Oi, could you be any louder?" he hisses. Jiro looks up. "Sorry," he mumbles. He looks distracted, staring at the paper lying flat on his desk. He fiddles with the corner, which makes an annoying flicking sound. Saburo rolls his eyes. "I asked you to be quiet," he says. "Can't understand Japanese?"
Jiro is quiet.
Then he stands up. "I'm heading out for a bit," he says, folding up the paper he was writing on. There's something strange in his tone, but before Saburo can comment, he's out the door.
Saburo doesn't think much of it. Just a little tantrum, and maybe Saburo got him on a bad day. He'll say sorry when Jiro gets home. Or maybe he won't. Jiro knows that Saburo doesn't really mean it, but maybe Saburo will let him have his egg tomorrow morning anyway.
But Jiro doesn't come home that night.
The bottom bunk is empty when Saburo falls asleep. It's empty when he wakes up. He stumbles out to the front door. Jiro's shoes are missing.
He pounds at Ichiro's door, eyes wide. Jiro has never not come home from his late night walks. He tells Ichiro that Jiro's missing. Ichiro holds him and tells him and Jiro will be home in the afternoon.
But he's not home that afternoon, or that night. He doesn't come home every night for a week.
On the seventh day, they find his body in the river.
---
Saburo locks himself in his room.
He hears Ichiro talking to his teacher over the phone, excusing him from classes until further notice. Somewhere, somehow, he feels sorry for bothering Ichi-nii. Mostly, he feels shit.
It's been a little over a week of picking at the plate of food that Ichiro gives him and staring blankly at the wall. He's not hungry, and he barely eats more than a bite or two of the food Ichiro brings.
He thinks about the lives that he's squandered. Jiro's life, which he might as well have taken with his own two hands and ripped apart, and his own, which was spent cold and guarded and ultimately worthless.
He's stupid. Saburo is completely, undeniably, irrevocably an idiot. He completely pushed Jiro away, the only person who he could trust for who knows how long, the person he could always rely on and count on for anything, and he's so stupid that he drove Jiro to… to…!
There's a knock at the door. Saburo ignores it. The door opens. Saburo spares Ichiro a glance before turning on his side. There's a quiet sigh, and footsteps draw closer until Ichiro's hovering next to Saburo's bed.
"Saburo…?"
Saburo is quiet.
Ichiro sighs again, then sits on the bed next to Saburo.
"Saburo, please talk to me. You've barely eaten, and you haven't come out in a week. I know you're not okay, but…"
Saburo turns around to face Ichiro. His eyes are red, and there are tear stains on his cheeks. "It's my fault," he mumbles into Ichiro's shirt, holding on for dear life. "I… I thought I could… I thought he… I didn't… I wasn't!"
Ichiro's hands card through Saburo's hair. "Don't say that," he whispers. "Don't put such a burden on yourself."
"But it's my fault! If I hadn't said what I did, then maybe-- then maybe Jiro w-would…!" He can't finish his sentence.
Ichiro gently picks him up and pulls him into a proper hug. Saburo swallows and tries again. "If I hadn't said those things… I don't even know why he-- they were just meaningless words--!"
"To you, maybe," Ichiro says quietly. "But Jiro thought a lot of you. You were the most important to him."
Saburo sobs louder. "I'm a murderer! If I hadn't said all those things, then Jiro wouldn't-- then nii-chan wouldn't--!"
"Saburo, don't talk like that," Ichiro says gently. "You know Jiro wouldn't have wanted that. He wouldn't want you to call yourself a murderer."
"W-well, what does that matter? Because apparently I don't know jack shit about nii-chan and what he would have wanted!"
“You do.” Ichiro pulls back and grabs Saburo firmly by the shoulders. “Listen to me. You know Jiro better than even me. You’ve spent so long with each other, and you’ve always had each other’s backs, even when I wasn’t there.”
Saburo can’t look Ichiro in the eyes. His eldest brother is full of worry and concern, and Saburo just feels guilty.
“What does it matter how long we’ve been together?” he asks quietly. “In the end, that just makes things worse, doesn’t it? I’ve known him for so long, and yet…” His sentence trails off, and he clutches at the hem of his shirt.
“Saburo…” He can hear the sigh in Ichiro’s voice. It only makes his guilt hit even harder. He’s just being a nuisance at this point. “Don’t beat yourself up for it. If there’s anyone to blame, it’s me. I didn’t take care of you both enough, and even though I knew about his issues, I never really…” Ichiro sighs again. “I’m sorry.”
“Ichi-nii, don’t-- don’t say that. Don’t try to take all the blame like you always do! You’ve always done the best for us, and I’m just. What have I ever done good? You’re not the one who called him stupid, you’re not the one who told him he was an idiot day after day, you’re not the one who couldn’t take a hint and just-- shut up!”
Ichiro shakes his head. “Both of your wellbeing is my responsibility,” he says, and Saburo feels shame wash over his heart. Here Ichi-nii is, trying to make him feel better, and all he can think about is himself. Classic Saburo. Classic, stupid, selfish Saburo.
“Jiro loved you,” Ichiro continues. “He always loved you, no matter what you said.”
“But how do you know that?”
Ichiro smiles sadly and pats his chest. “We’re brothers, you know. We love each other. No matter what. And you loved Jiro too, didn’t you?”
“... yeah.”
“See? Then that’s what matters. I… I’m sad too. I miss him too, but… doing this? Lying here, not eating, barely sleeping… It won’t bring Jiro back. All we can do now is face the future.”
“I…” Saburo’s voice is small. “I want to, but I don’t know how.”
“I know, bud. It’s okay. I’m not asking you to do it now, but I want you to try, okay? For me, and for Jiro.”
Saburo swallows and leans forward. Ichiro wraps him in a hug. His fingers are gentle as they run through his hair and rub his back. “I… I’ll try. Ichi-nii…?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry. For being a burden a-and for being selfish. You’re already hurting, and yet I’m…”
“Saburo, no. You’re never a burden, you hear me? I always have time for you. And making sure you’re okay... it makes me feel better too, you know? You’re not selfish for wanting to be reassured. You’re still growing. You’re still improving.”
“Am I?” Saburo sighs quietly against Ichiro’s shirt. “It feels like I’m only getting worse."
"That's because you only see the worst in yourself. Your standards for yourself are really high, you know?" Ichiro holds Saburo closer. Saburo snuggles into the warm, secure hug. "But trust me. I've been watching over you. You're getting better, and you're gonna be a great man, okay? You just gotta go at your own pace. You'll get there, too."
"Will I…?" Saburo isn't usually one to be unsure of himself, but now isn't usually. "I want to get there. I want to be better. I don't… it hurts, Ichi-nii…"
"I know, bud."
"I don't want people to have to feel like this…"
"And that's good. You're a good person, Saburo. Don't you forget that."
Saburo swallows. “Ichi-nii…? Don’t-- don’t leave me too, okay?”
“Are you kidding? I’ll never leave you. Get some rest, yeah? I’ll bring over some food later, and you have to eat lots.”
“... okay…”
Saburo isn’t hungry, and he hasn’t done anything lately except cry, but his eyes close anyway, and he’s asleep in seconds.
---
When Saburo wakes up, he's hidden under a blanket. The air conditioner's turned on, and in the semi-darkness of the room, he can see a plate of food on the table.
He doesn't feel like getting up. But he promised Ichiro that he'd eat, so he forces himself to his feet, blinking sleep away.
The food is covered with cling wrap, and the plastic is fogged up, but when he unwraps it, the food has gone cold. That's fine, though. He takes his seat and spares a glance at the clock at his desk.
11:32.
He feels slightly less tired, though he can still only barely keep his eyes open. As he starts eating his food, he notices a folded-up piece of paper under his pencil case.
He picks it up and unfolds it. His heart twists at the sight of Jiro's familiar, barely-legible handwriting.
Hey, Saburo.
This is Jiro, and if you're reading this, then it means I've decided to go through with it. You know what I mean. I won't say it out loud.
If stuff works out the way it's supposed to, this note should be home a week after I'm gone. If not, then I fucking knew the mail system here was shit.
Right now, you're playing Bandori. I know because I can hear it, because your earphones are kind of shit and you always put the volume all the way up. You look happy. I dunno. I hope you are.
When you're reading this, maybe you'll be happier. Or maybe you're sad. If you are, don't be. I'm gone, so don't worry about me anymore.
I know you don't mean the things you say, but sometimes it gets to me. I tell myself it's okay, but sometimes it really isn't. We all got our issues, but sometimes mine just take over everything else.
I'm sorry if I make you think it's your fault. It's not. It's never your fault. Don't think it is. This is my problem, so I don't want you butting in like always and getting hurt. You're the best bro ever, and I love you so much. I know we kinda grew apart these past two years, but I've never stopped caring about you. I'm somewhere else now, probably, hopefully somewhere better. Don't be in a rush to follow me, though. Ha, is that hypocritical?
You're better than I am. Don't let anything get to you. I'm watching over you, yeah? I'll beat everyone's ass from the afterlife. I just want what's best for you. I know I've done kind of a stupid decision, so I hope you don't follow in my footsteps.
I don't really know what else to say. Or think. So I'll just leave this here. Don't miss me too much. We'll meet again.
Love you.
Jiro.