Chapter Text
Jiro was scrambling to get dressed for school when he noticed it: Saburo’s been folding the cuff of his trousers a little less each day. The brat was already at the entryway slipping his shoes on and threatening to leave Jiro for dead if he didn’t get a damn move on, so though Jiro felt the urge to ask him if he’s gotten taller again, it was overridden by the urgency of throwing his uniform’s regulation tie on and cramming his feet into his shoes, too, then clambering out the door.
He comes back after school to find that Saburo’s won their usual undeclared race home. He’s toeing his shoes off carelessly at the entryway, undoing the fold from this morning, and when Jiro gets the passing thought again, that Saburo’s growing up fast, he chases it this time, into the house along with Saburo who’s started jogging up to his room after smugly gloating to him about his un/warranted victory.
The sentiment in the depth of Jiro’s mind rises to the surface as his breaths shallow from the sprint: not only is Saburo growing up fast, he’s growing up way too fast, and too fast for his own good, at that. With that genius brain of his, that he’d act mature shouldn’t come as much a surprise as it does, but it does and Jiro can’t help it even if he tried, and he really did. He can do nothing but face the truth that the faster Saburo grows, the farther he gets from his sight, and that impending reality scares him far worse than all of his irrational fears combined.
Saburo’s been through more shit than any fourteen-year-old ought to, or deserves—abandonment by family both blood-related and foster, both literal and emotional, social judgment by and consequent anxiety around peers whom he doesn’t understand and who don’t try to understand him, and, the brutal pressure of hypnosis mics and everything that comes with wielding one, if it’s unwanted unkind celebrity status or enemies with worthless pride or blows from either that deal damage deeper than the physical kind and so take god knows how long to heal.
He’s about to let that darkness take his mind and mood back down with it into despair, when he realizes he’s stopped and stood in front of Saburo’s bedroom door. Preoccupied with the prospect of losing his little brother to growth forced on him by life and circumstance, Jiro hadn’t even noticed that he’d followed Saburo all the way here, or that the door’s been slammed in his face. He only comes back to his senses because it’s swinging open now, to reveal Saburo haphazardly dressed in an oversized hand-me-down T-shirt from Ichi-nii that’s sliding off one of his shoulders plus a pair of pajama pants that are long enough to sock the soles of his feet. Over looking presentable, he’s obviously prioritized the five large boardgames in his arms.
Saburo makes a face at Jiro, one of clear annoyance and impatience and something a touch lonely. “Why are you still in your uniform? Hurry up and change already!” He makes a show of his irritation and invitation by throwing an elbow into his side before padding past him and humming, “I’ll go bring these to Ichi-nii’s room now!” He looks over his shoulder at Jiro and raises an eyebrow, unsure what’s got him catatonic at a time like this though not prepared to prod, because one of them has to keep his head. He clears his throat theatrically. “You’ve no chance of winning against me, but it’s gonna be fun. Quit dawdling, Jiro!”
Jiro watches as Saburo maneuvers the boxes awkwardly into one arm to free a hand, if only for long enough to gesture towards him awkwardly before running off for this fortnight’s Friday game night. To Jiro, all it looked like was his clumsy little brother reaching his hand out to him like he always used to and cheering, “Let’s play together!”
Right now, it’s only a matter of time until Jiro’s cowering at Saburo’s ruthlessness when he trips him up on whichever game he’ll choose for them to play, and that little devil of a brat won’t resemble the cute, innocent child he used to be in the slightest. But Jiro won’t feel anything aside from rehearsed frustration. And relief.
We don’t stop playing because we grow old; we grow old because we stop playing. And thankfully, Saburo isn’t going to stop playing just yet.