Work Text:
“So ‘を’ is almost always used with operational verbals.”
“Yep.”
“And ‘に’ is used to express location, except when it isn’t.”
“Basically.”
“And ‘から’ can be used as reasoning OR starting destination OR to denote the order in which actions occurred. “
“Look at you go, you little language machine.”
“But particle ‘で’ can be used to...used to...GAH THIS MAKES NO SENSE!”
Hiro Hamada banged his head against the kitchen table, rattling several pieces of silverware and knocking an unwashed plate to the ground in the process. His brother, Tadashi, peaked over the back of the couch he was laying on, doing his best to hide an amused smile at his frustration.
“You better pick that up before we get mice again,” he advised. Hiro leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.
“Just a second.”
“The mice won’t wait a second.”
“We wouldn’t even have mice if Mochi would do his job for once in his lazy life. That’s the whole reason we adopted him,” Tadashi gave a mock horrified gasp.
“Don’t listen to him, Mo. We love you just the way you are,” he cooed at the cat. Mochi meowed appreciatively, rubbing his head against Tadashi’s leg.
In the calm stillness of the Hamada family living room, Tadashi smiled. It was a quiet night, quiet in the kind of way only Tuesdays could be. The only sounds to be heard were the low hum of the TV as it played some B-horror movie, the soft pitter patter of the rain outside, and the constant pinging of the pot catching the leak in the laundry room. Not one to let even biblical level rains stop her, Aunt Cass had headed out to her weekly karuta night, leaving Tadashi and Hiro with the house to themselves.
As he picked up the animal, Tadashi called out, “So what’s with the sudden fascination with にほんご anyway?”
“Huh?”
“に-ほ-ん-ご. The Japanese word for Japanese.”
“Oh.” Tadashi waited patiently for his brother to say something more. Hiro was always like this; an impossible to stop chatterbox one minute, then cryptically and unhelpfully silent the next. His brother’s seemingly arbitrary personality switches had once bothered him, but it was now of of the many endearing eccentricities of his brother he now took in stride.
Finally, Hiro replied, “You’re the one who's always telling me to try new things. By the way, is there a huge difference between ‘にします’ and ‘になります’?”
“Come on, that one’s easy. Use that big brain of yours and-”
“Don’t you dare.”
“Hey,” said Tadashi, a thought suddenly dawning on him. “You’ve finished your actual homework already, right?” Hiro rolled his eyes.
“I’m hurt you’d even ask me such a question.”
“That’s not an answer, smart mouth.”
“I finished all my homework for the week in 4th period on Monday,” said Hiro nonchalantly.
Tadashi glanced over at his brother, who was bent low over his work. Hiro was smart. Smarter than any twelve-year-old really had the right to be. Hiro was quite possibly the smartest person Tadashi had ever met, though he’d never say that to his brother’s face since that was the last thing his already-inflated preteen ego needed to hear. But for all his smarts, Hiro could be quite oblivious.
“Ugh, who made this language so hard!?” exclaimed Hiro.
Tadashi couldn’t remember ever seeing Hiro struggle with, well, anything this much. It was somewhat amusing in a sadistic sort of way to watch - so there were some things that big brain of his couldn’t do perfectly.
“It’s not as hard as you’re making it out to be,” remarked Tadashi as he stretched out on the couch and stifled a yawn. The coziness of the rain mixed with the scent of simmering pasta was having a lethargic effect on the man. Seeing an opportunity to be an inconvenience, Mochi jumped onto his lap, tucking himself under Tadashi’s arm with a well deserved fervor. Tadashi scratched at the cat’s ears affectionately. Hiro harrumphed.
“As if you’re an expert on Japanese yourself,” he retorted. Tadashi smiled.
“So that’s how you wanna play it huh?” he teased. Leaning back and closing his eyes, Tadashi recited, “見かぎりし古郷の桜咲にけり”
“Nobody likes a show off, bro.”
“Say that to me in Japanese and then we’ll talk.”
Hiro shot his brother an exasperated look, but, never one to back down from a challenge, returned back to his workbook.
“I mean,” Tadashi added, “Japanese is a hard language for native English speakers to learn. Don’t beat you yourself up about it.”
“Mom was a native English speaker and Aunt Cass always says she spoke Japanese almost perfectly,” said Hiro quietly. Neither of them said anything for a moment. The pitter patter of the rain intensified.
“Mom also lived in Kyoto for over a decade,” said Tadashi, weighing his words very carefully. “Plus she was married to a Japanese man. It would be weirder if she didn’t pick it up in all that time.”
“So I’m the only one of us who can’t speak it. Awesome.”
Tadashi quirked an eyebrow. So that’s what this was all about.
Placing Mochi on the floor gingerly, Tadashi got up and walked over to his brother. He put his hand on the back of Hiro’s chair and watched the boy work for a bit. Hiro was having more difficulty with it than Tadashi had expected; nearly 3/4ths of the page was scratched out and scribbled over, with various notes and reminders scribbled in the margins. There was an intense look on his face that Tadashi had never seen before.
“Wow,” said Tadashi. “You really do suck at this.”
Hiro’s mouth fell open.
“Thanks a lot you-” began Hiro, his voice suddenly hoarse, but Tadashi cut him off.
“Did you know Mom once burned water?” asked Tadashi. Hiro stared up at his brother with a pout.
“You know I don’t remember anything about them,” said Hiro.
“That’s why I’m telling you now. Mom was a horrible cook,” replied Tadashi simply. He pulled out a chair and sat down, back of the chair facing Hiro. “Once in 1st grade the lunch she made me was so inedible my teacher called her in for an emergency parent-teacher conference to make sure everything was alright at home. Aunt Cass left her in charge of the cafe stove for 10 minutes one day and she burned down 3 cabinets.”
Tadashi saw the corner of Hiro’s mouth twitch.
“And Dad, don’t even get me started on Dad,” he continued, leaning forward onto the chair back. “Dad couldn’t hold a tune to save his life. He even managed to make ‘Happy Birthday’ sound like a death march. On top of that, we both know how bad I am with plants.”
Hiro gave a full smile at that one. “I’ve never seen a garden die so fast.”
“Why do you think I turned to robots? The point I’m trying to make is, me, Mom, Dad, even Aunt Cass, we’re all bad at something. We’re bad at a lot of things, actually. But for you, it’s always been different. Things come easily to you. And this is not and it’s frustrating. But that doesn’t make it a bad thing. The fact that you’re struggling with this just means you’re one of us.”
There was another pause.
“Thanks, bro.”
Tadashi smiled, then reached out to ruffle his brother’s hair.
“Anytime, pipsqueak.”
Their touching sibling moment was ruined by a piercing shriek. Both brothers jumped, nearly falling out of their chairs.
“Why is the fire alarm going off?” yelled Hiro, ears covered with hands.
“I don’t know wh- MY CASSEROLE! Nuts!”
Tadashi jumped up and ran to the oven. Thick black smoke poured out from it when he opened the door, causing him to cough profusely.
“I thought you were watching the clock!”
“I thought you were watching the clock!”
“I- aw, crud, oven mitts, oven mitts? Did Aunt Cass take them down to the cafe again?” As Tadashi rummaged around for the mitts, Hiro suddenly jumped up.
“I know where they are!” he exclaimed. Fanning the smoke from his eyes, Hiro bounded over to the oven and reached up for the cabinet directly above it. The casserole teetered dangerously on the edge of the rack and suddenly, Tadashi knew what was about to happen before it even did.
“OW!”
“Tadashi!”
The casserole fell to the ground, spilling hot sauce and noodles everywhere. Tadashi did as well. Hiro stumbled backwards but didn’t fall well out of harm's way.
“God da- are you alright? Are you hurt?” Tadashi called out. Hiro blinked in surprised, stunned.
“You- you pushed me,” he said plainly. Mochi mewled in distress.
“Are you alright?” repeated Tadashi, struggling to stand back up. “You didn’t get hit by any of it ri- Ow!” Tadashi fell back down, cradling his arm close to his chest. Blinking his surprise away, Hiro dropped to his knees beside his brother.
“Why did you do that?” he cried.
“Are you hurt or not?”
“Why would you do that?”
“I’m you big brother, I don’t need a reason!”
Tadashi bit his lip. A large red welt was developing where the casserole tray had collided with his arm. Not sure what to say, he looked around wildly.
“Here, let me look at it.”
Slowly, Hiro helped his brother to his feet. Not for the first time, Tadashi was awed by just how much smaller than him his little brother was. The two maneuvered awkwardly over to the sink. Running his arm under a cool stream of water, Tadashi sighed blissfully.
“That’s the stuff,” he murmured. Noticing the worried look on Hiro’s face, he added, “Hey, since you’ve got two working arms, why don’t you go fetch the first aid kit from the bathroom.” Nodding profusely, Hiro bolted in search of the kit, leading Tadashi alone with his thoughts. Outside the rain had turned into a torrent and the clattering of the leak was louder than ever. Tadashi glanced down at his burn. The skin was still red and angry even with the steady stream of cold water hitting it. He touched it. It stung.
“Mrrrow?”
Tadashi looked down to where Mochi peered up at him morosely.
“Aww, don’t worry about me, Mo. It’s just a little burn,” he reassured the creature. Mochi meowed again.
It felt like ages before Hiro returned with the first aid kit, but he did return. By that time Tadashi had returned to the table with Mochi curled up in his lap. Tadashi reached for the kit, but Hiro pulled it out of his reach.
“You can't do it right with one hand. Let me do it.”
Silently, Hiro began treating the wound. Tadashi tried to make eye contact with his brother, but Hiro kept his head down. Tadashi frowned.
“Hiro, look at me,” he ordered.
Hio looked up at him and it broke Tadashi’s heart to see the tears brimming in his eyes.
“I’m alright, okay? Really. This isn’t the worst thing to ever happen to me,” joked Tadashi because he needed to say something to break the tension.
“You got hurt protecting me,” whispered Hiro. Tadashi’s body tensed. For once in his life, he didn’t know what to say.
“You’re my family,” he said finally, because words were all he had in the end even though they weren’t enough, they were never enough. “You’re the only little brother I’m ever going to have. I watch out for you.”
This alone was clearly not enough to satisfy the boy if the look on his face was anything to go by. Tadashi furrowed his brow.
“Hiro, come on. I’m fine.”
“But you’re not! You always act like you are, but you’re not!” exploded Hiro. Tadashi flinched, taken aback. Hiro’s face was red and blotchy, and his breathing was labored. He wiped uselessly at his eyes with his sleeve.
“I see your face when you think I’m not looking. We share a room, remember? You’re not always okay, so you don’t have to hide it from me when you’re not.”
Tadashi’s eyes went wide. Ears flaming red, Hiro turned away from him.
“You’re the only brother I have too, alright?” he mumbled.
The rain outside had quieted down now. Tadashi looked down at the floor, then back at Hiro.
“I guess that’s what I get for having such a smart little brother. I’m sorry for making you worry,” he said. Hiro said nothing, but returned to treating Tadashi’s arm. His ears were still bright red.
There was another awkward pause where both of them watched Mochi hack up a hairball, then Tadashi said, “I can’t promise I’m going to stop looking out for you. But maybe from now on, you can watch my back too. We’ll protect each other. How does that sound?”
Hiro gave the smallest of nods. Tadashi nodded back. Then out of nowhere, Hiro said, “I guess we should add ‘casserole-making’ to the list of things the Hamada family is bad at.”
Despite the pain in his arm, Tadashi laughed. Hiro joined him and soon both of them were laughing hysterically, completely oblivious to the pounding rain outside. They laughed so hard and long that they cried and neither of them heard the front door bang open or their guardian walk in.
“WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO MY KITCHEN!?!”
Suffice to say, Aunt Cass didn’t find the whole situation nearly as funny as Tadashi and Hiro did. But that’s a story for another day.