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The Sakura-Sakamoto household was rarely quiet, especially with so many people living there, but it was rare to hear anyone yelling. That’s why the argument that Yusuke was having with Sojiro and Mayumi garnered everyone’s attention. They weren’t exactly being subtle about it, shouting on the landing outside everyone’s bedrooms.
Sojiro was trying to keep his voice even, but it was obvious that he was beginning to lose his temper. “I’m simply saying Mayumi and I think that therapy would be useful for you.”
“Absolutely not,” snapped Yusuke. “Are you forgetting what happened the last time I saw a therapist?”
Sojiro’s expression softened a little, and while Mayumi wasn’t sure what exactly had happened with Yusuke’s last therapist, she assumed it wasn’t positive, explaining his aversion to seeing another councilor.
“Just try it,” said Mayumi. “Therapy can be helpful for coping with trauma once you find somebody you can trust.”
Yusuke scowled. “You’re acting like I’m broken! I don’t need therapy. It would just be a waste of everyone’s time.”
“Yusuke, this isn’t something you can ignore until it goes away,” insisted Mayumi. “We all know your panic attacks and nightmares have been getting worse.”
“I’m not doing it!” shouted Yusuke. “You can’t make me!”
Mayumi flinched as Yusuke raised his voice, and Sojiro’s frown deepened. He grabbed a hold of Yusuke’s wrist when he tried to storm off. “You need to calm down, Yusuke. Yelling isn’t going to help anyone.”
Sojiro took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. It wouldn’t be good to lose his temper, especially when that seems to be exactly what Yusuke’s trying to make him do. It was frustrating. At some point in the past few weeks, Yusuke went from being terrified of them, barely saying a word, to having shouting matches with them every other day, and Sojiro couldn’t for the life of him figure out why.
Sometimes the most innocuous things could set him off, and their arguments could last for quite a while. Sojiro suspected that Yusuke was doing it to test them, but that didn’t make it any easier to deal with .
Sojiro raised his hand, going to pat Yusuke on the shoulder, hoping it would be reassuring and calm the boy down a little, and he immediately regretted it when Yusuke flinched.
“Yusuke?” he said, retracting his hand.
Yusuke blinked, looking straight through Sojiro. “Sensei?”
Backing away a step, Sojiro held his hands out in front of himself. “Hey, you’re alright. He isn’t here. You’re safe.”
Yusuke was shaking, and he wrapped his arms around himself. “Can I- Can I go to my room?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Glancing towards Mayumi, Sojiro nodded. “We’ll talk about this more tomorrow, okay?”
Yusuke nodded mutely, and closed the bedroom door behind him, leaving Sojiro and Mayumi standing in the hallway. With a sigh, Sojiro rubbed at the bridge of his nose, underneath his glasses. “Give him some time alone. I think he needs it,” he said at last. “I’m going to start dinner. Do you wanna help?”
“Of course.”
Yusuke knew Madarame was gone. Logically, he knew that.
Even so, a large part of him refused to accept that. Sometimes, it felt like he was still there, in the atelier, walking on eggshells, anticipating his father’s sudden shifts in mood. Sometimes, when Sojiro moves his hands too close to Yusuke, he flinches like he’s going to be hit. Sometimes, he wonders why Mayumi and Sojiro let him get away with so much that Sensei would have shut down sharpish.
It isn’t that he preferred Sensei over Sojiro and Mayumi, by any definition of the word. Living with Sensei was hell, but at least it made a twisted sort of sense. He always knew what Sensei wanted from him - Sensei would tell him himself a lot of the time - and the consequences of his actions were clear.
Sojiro and Mayumi were quite the opposite. They didn’t seem to have any expectations of him, and remained irritatingly calm, no matter how hard he pushed them. It wasn’t that he wanted them to be like Sensei, but it would be easier.
There was only one way he could know for sure if they were better than him.
The cupboards.
Yusuke leapt out of his bed and crept downstairs towards the kitchen, hoping, praying that it wasn’t locked.
But a tiny, betraying part of him wanted it to be, because if it was, he would have won. He’d have proved himself right, regardless of the consequences.
When he opened the kitchen door and tried one of the cupboards, he was surprised to find it unlocked.
That had to be a mistake, right? Maybe they had forgotten to lock this one?
So, he tried another, and it opened easily.
The fridge had to be locked, at least.
But when he tried, it wasn’t. Infact, there was a plate of sandwiches inside with a note stuck to them saying, ‘ For Yusuke .’
And that didn’t make sense. That didn’t make any sense at all. He had been so disrespectful and rude. Why were they feeding him? Sensei wouldn’t have…
It had to be some sort of trick. Maybe he wasn’t meant to eat them and they were testing him? Unsure of whether it was ruder to not eat them if they were meant for him or to eat them when he wasn’t supposed to, he decided to simply leave them and head back upstairs, just as confused as he had been before.
Later that evening, when Mayumi went to fetch something from the fridge, she noticed that the sandwiches she had made for Yusuke were still in there.
At first, she thought that he must not have been as hungry as she thought, which would’ve made sense, but thinking more about Yusuke’s eating habits that made her want her son to get a therapist in the first place, she realized that it would’ve been more appropriate to say that he must be hungrier than he thinks.
Hopefully, there would be no harm in gently reminding him, even if she knew she’d have to be careful about how she phrased it. Leaving the plate in the fridge, she headed upstairs and knocked on his door.
“Yusuke, can I come in?”
“Yeah,” came the mumbled reply, and she opened the door. Yusuke was sitting on his bed, curled up against the wall, sketchbook in hand, like she had seen him so many times before. Setting the plate down on his desk, she sat down on the bed next to him. Neither of them spoke for a long moment.
Then Yusuke cleared his throat and spoke. “Did you forget to lock the fridge?”
“What?”
“I just… I went downstairs and it wasn’t locked, so I was wondering if you forgot to do it. Sensei never forgot.”
“What do you mean?”
“Sometimes, when I was bad, Sensei would lock the fridge so I couldn’t eat.”
Mayumi had never wanted to punch Madarame more than in that moment. “Yusuke, we don’t have a lock on our fridge. Even if we did, we would never use it.”
“Why?”
Mayumi sighed, rubbing at the bridge of her nose. “Restricting access to food as punishment is abuse, Yusuke. It fosters unhealthy relationships with food and is an intensely traumatic thing to experience.”
Yusuke was quiet for a long moment, tucking his knees up to his chest.
“To be honest, Sojiro and I have noticed that you have a difficult relationship with food. That’s why I left those sandwiches out for you. I want to make sure you know that you can eat whenever you want, and you whenever you need to. Will you come downstairs to the kitchen with me? You don’t have to eat, but I’d like to sit with you for a bit.”
Yusuke nodded, and they headed downstairs together.
“So…” Yusuke opened the fridge again, pointing at the sandwiches. “I can definitely have these?”
“If that’s what you want.” Mayumi confirmed. “If you’re ever feeling hungry, know that we will always have food for you.”
Yusuke wiped away a small tear, one he always tended to shed whenever Sojiro or Mayumi did something better than what Madarame had to offer. “I am truly grateful, Mom.”
Carefully, Yusuke unwrapped the plastic wrap from the plate, looking at Mayumi, as if to confirm that it was really okay. She gave a reassuring nod and hugged Yusuke as he took a bite of the sandwich. “I’m not Madarame, and I never will be. That’s part of why I wanted to become your mother,” she said, patting him on the shoulder.
“I know that, but it’s a little hard to accept sometimes…”
“I know, give it time,” said Mayumi, her voice soft.
Yusuke gestured towards the plate. “...Do you want one?” he asked.
“I’d love that, son.”
Even after he’d been living with them for a while, Yusuke was still hesitant to ask for anything, desperate to not be an inconvenience, so when he approached Sojiro and Mayumi, staring at the ground by their feet, they wondered what he could possibly want to ask for that was making him so nervous.
“... I was wondering if I could have a friend over for dinner?” he mumbled.
Mayumi smiled. “Of course. Who is it? A classmate?”
“His name is Nakanohara Natsuhiko. He was another student at the atelier… the last one to leave before me.”
Sojiro looked over to Mayumi, a soft look in his eyes, and Mayumi nodded. “That’s perfectly fine with me,” she said. “Ask him if Friday evening is a good time for him.”
Yusuke gave a quick nod, and disappeared from the room as quickly as he came.
***
The following Friday, Natsuhiko was waiting on the doorstep of the Sakura-Sakamoto household, unsure of whether he was too early to ring the doorbell, not wanting to be rude. Eventually, he worked up the courage and rang the doorbell.
Barely a minute later, Yusuke threw open the door and flung his arms around Natsuhiko. “Natsu, you came!” he exclaimed.
“I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” assured Natsuhiko. “Can I come in?”
“Of course!” Yusuke ushered Natsuhiko through the house and into the kitchen, pulling out a chair for him. Sojiro and Mayumi were already there, serving up some curry. “You must be Natsuhiko,” said Sojiro, a wide smile on his face. “Any friend of my son is a friend of mine. You’re welcome here any time.”
“Thank you…”
The door burst open, and Ryuji appeared in the kitchen. “Dad, you gotta stop letting Ann hog the bathroom!” he complained. “She takes forever!”
“Ryuji, we have guests,” chastised Mayumi.
Ryuji rolled his eyes, but mumbled, “Sorry.”
“Are your siblings on their way?” asked Sojiro.
“Akira and Futaba said they’ll be down in a couple minutes,” said Ryuji, sitting down across from Yusuke. “Ann might be a while.”
“You underestimate how long it takes a lady to get ready,” said Yusuke.
Ryuji scoffed. “Futaba gets ready in like ten minutes like the rest of us, Ann’s just extra.”
When Yusuke laughed out loud, Natsuhiko was a little startled. He had never heard Yusuke laugh that way in the atelier, not while he was so firmly underneath Madarame’s thumb, so terrified of slipping up and making a mistake.
In fact, the difference between this boy and the Yusuke he knew was vast. The Yusuke he knew was a shy, quiet child who jumped at the slightest sound. This boy was confident and outspoken; Natsuhiko decided he much preferred this version of his friend.
Yusuke seemed at ease as he sat down with his family, and throughout dinner, he chatted animatedly with his siblings. Sojiro and Mayumi made no attempt to stop him, merely sharing a secret smile at their children’s antics.
They were a picture-perfect family.
Or at least they seemed to be one. Natsuhiko knew all too well how a family could appear perfect but be toxic just underneath the surface.
Once dinner was done, Yusuke excitedly asked, “Mom, can I show Natsuhiko my room?”
“Of course, but wash up your plate first.”
Yusuke picked up his plate and took it over to the sink, dousing it with water and putting it in the drying rack. “Is that good?”
“Close enough. Have fun, sweetie.”
Yusuke’s room was pretty small - bigger than his room at the atelier though - but it had a cozy, homey feel to it. There was a half made bed, all his art supplies piled up in the corner next to an easel and a string of fairy lights stuck to the wall.
When Natsuhiko stared for a second too long, Yusuke awkwardly laughed and said, “Ann gave me those. They’re rather ‘girly’, aren't they?”
“They look pretty,” replied Natsuhiko.
Yusuke sat down on the bed. “Sensei never would have let me have them…”
Natsuhiko paused for a moment, then sat down next to him. “Madarame was wrong about many things,” he said at last. “If they make you happy, you shouldn’t feel ashamed about liking something feminine.”
“... I know.”
There was an empty silence, which Natsuhiko broke to ask, “Are you safe here?”
“I think so,” mumbled Yusuke. “They haven’t hurt me, and… I like it here. I feel safe here; safer than I ever felt with Sensei. It’s just… I don’t think my mind is entirely convinced.”
“Yeah, I understand that.” Natsuhiko was faintly aware that one of his hands was shaking, and he quickly covered it with the other. “Sometimes, it still feels like I’m there, with him, even though it’s been years.”
Yusuke hummed in agreement. “Mayumi thinks I should get therapy… she says it will help, but I’m not sure.”
“...I think you should. I’ve been attending counseling for a few months now, it’s been very helpful for me.”
“I’ll think I might give it a try then,” said Yusuke. “I’ve missed you, you know.”
“I’ve missed you too, Yusuke.”
More than you know…
“Will you come over again soon?”
“Of course.”
As Natsuhiko was about to leave the Sakura-Sakamoto household, Mayumi stopped him, a gentle hand on his shoulder that made him tense up just a little. “Pardon me, Nakanohara. I feel the need to ask, do you have a place to stay? Yusuke told me about the way his father treated a lot of you and… a mother worries.”
“There’s no need for you to worry,” assured Natsuhiko. “I have a job as a civil servant, and I am doing just fine.”
“Well, if you ever need a place to stay, our door is always open,” said Mayumi, a warm smile on her face.
Natsuhiko relaxed underneath her hand. Yusuke would be safe here. He was sure of it.
As the days went by, Yusuke found himself eating more and more, taking seconds at dinner when asked, and taking a snack every once in a while. Sometimes, it would however, lead to him getting sick, since he sometimes struggled to tell when he was full, but never to the point of being hospitalized. He found himself more energized, even more awake than when he first started living with his new parents. It should’ve been the beginning of a whole new life for Yusuke.
Until he tried to get dressed one morning.
Doing so was never this difficult, and never something he thought much about unless it truly mattered. But now, none of the buttons on his vest were able to line up correctly, and his pants felt tighter.
No, surely his clothes must’ve shrunken in the wash, Yusuke thought, as the one Sojiro and Mayumi used was different than the method he used.
Then he looked down more carefully, and saw something that he dreaded seeing.
Down on his belly, his gut now pushed outward, slightly covering his waist.
No, this wasn’t supposed to be how it went! Had he not been taking care of himself like he had before? What was going on?
“Kids, breakfast is ready!” Mayumi called.
Yusuke didn’t head down the stairs. He could only look at his body in the mirror, frozen in fear.
This couldn’t be happening…
There was a knock on his door, and Yusuke recognised the voice as Akira. “Yusuke, are you coming?”
“Yeah, just give me a minute.”
Yusuke was quiet through breakfast, but if any of his family noticed that something was wrong, they said nothing. Yusuke forced himself to sit through breakfast, even as his stomach turned at the thought of eating a single bite.
“Yusuke…” Mayumi looked at him sternly.
Yusuke felt a white hot terror run up his spine. She knew…
Hand shaking, he picked up his spoon, taking a few bites of the curry Sojiro cooked. It should have tasted amazing - Yusuke loved Sojiro’s cooking - but it left a distinctly bitter taste on his tongue.
“Are you okay, Yusuke?” asked Mayumi, once everyone had left the table.
Yusuke tensed, anticipating a harsh response to his words. Sensei hated it when he was an inconvenience. “Yeah… I just- I think I need to see a doctor.”
The genuine concern in Mayumi’s voice shouldn’t have been a surprise, but it was. “Are you feeling ill?”
Yusuke hesitated before he answered “…One could say that.”
“What’s wrong?” asked Mayumi.
“I…” Yusuke trailed off. Telling Mayumi he thought he was too fat to keep eating would definitely be seen as a poor excuse. So instead, he told her he was simply having a stomachache.
Surprisingly, Mayumi accepted that excuse. “I get it, you ate a lot yesterday. I can book you an appointment with Takemi for later this week if you’re really worried,” said Mayumi. “You seem to be in good enough health though.”
“It would give me a certain… peace of mind,” replied Yusuke.
Mayumi nodded. “If that’s what you want.”
Yusuke was quiet for a long moment. “May I be excused?”
“Of course, sweetie.”
Yusuke returned to his room, a thousand thoughts swirling in his mind. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as he thought?
But maybe it was worse..?
That was a thought he couldn’t stand. Sensei liked him to look presentable, and how could he do that when he looked like this . He was disgusting.
The word echoed in his head, beginning to sound an awful lot like Sensei’s voice.
Disgusting... You are disgusting, Kitagawa. I thought I raised you better.
He couldn’t take it anymore. Couldn’t take hearing that voice in the back of his head. Couldn’t take looking at himself in the mirror for one more second. Couldn’t keep living like this.
Luckily, he knew a simple solution, and headed to the bathroom.
Yusuke didn’t particularly like making himself throw up - there was something so barbaric about it - but it was the best choice he had. It was the only way he could quell the churning sensation in his stomach.
He hadn’t done it since he started living with the Sakura-Sakamoto’s (he doesn’t want to think about what that could mean) so he was a little out of practice, but soon he had managed it.
Deep down, he knew that what he was doing wasn’t normal. He wondered what his family would think, if they knew. Surely, they would think him a freak…
Just another reason they could never know.
Disposing of the evidence, Yusuke returned to his room and attempted to absorb himself in his latest painting. Unfortunately, that painting was another self-portrait, like the one he had completed the day of his transformation, and the self-hatred Yusuke had only just quelled flared up again.
All the traits he had previously loved, including the ones he shared with his newfound family, like his chubby cheeks, only left him feeling frustrated. Why couldn’t he just like his appearance, for once?
Suddenly furious, Yusuke picked up a broad brush and dipped it in a tub of black paint. Painting over the portrait was strangely satisfying, but left him with a strange sensation of emptiness as he started into the newly black canvas.
There was a knock on the door. “Yusuke, can I come in?” asked Akira.
Yusuke frowned, placing his brush down on the easel. “Yes.”
Akira stepped into his room, setting a bowl of apple slices on Yusuke’s desk. “I knew you were planning on working on your portraits, so I thought I’d bring you a snack,” said Akira cheerfully. “Don’t overwork yourself, okay?”
Yusuke hummed noncommittally.
“Make sure you eat them before they go brown,” added Akira as he left the room.
Those apple slices sat on Yusuke’s desk uneaten, until he eventually took them downstairs and threw them away. Abandoned, just like his self portrait.
It went on like that for a week or two. It was surprisingly easy to get away with it, actually. Yusuke would eat breakfast with his family then force himself to throw it up. Though he’d accept the boxed lunch Mayumi gave him, he would usually end up throwing it away or giving it to a classmate. He would eat some dinner, though that was the only meal he’d allow himself.
His plan was working perfectly.
He was starting to look more like his old self, and he attempted another self portrait, optimistic that he would be able to complete it this time.
Instead, he stared at the gaunt, pale, exhausted boy he drew, and wondered if he always looked like that. That couldn’t be right… He must have made a mistake.
But as he looked at the mirror, that was what was reflected back at him.
He was tired all the time too, constantly dozing off on his siblings’ shoulders or at school. No matter how much he slept, he was always exhausted.
And he was constantly cold too, even though it was almost summer. Sojiro had commented on him wearing sweaters in 20 degree weather and Yusuke had no real reply for him, shrugging it off as naturally running at a lower body temperature.
One time, he stood up too fast in class and before he knew what was happening, his vision faded to black and he woke up in the nurse’s office. Mayumi had insisted on picking him up, even though he insisted he was fine.
Even though these new experiences were irritating, Yusuke quickly got used to them and they became a part of his everyday life.
It was fine.
He was fine.
Eventually, the day of his appointment with Takemi arrived, and saying Yusuke was nervous would be the understatement of the century.
Had he been doing enough? Would she tell Mayumi that it wasn’t as big of a deal as it seemed and he could just go home without any issue? It was easier to not know…
Like always, he forced himself to go through with it, even as his stomach churned at the thought of talking to anyone about something so private and shameful.
Or maybe that stomach pain was a consequence of his current plan, he didn’t know.
He didn’t have to wait long until Takemi welcomed him into the examination room. It was pretty standard, as far as examination rooms went. One thing of note was the colorful poster on the wall reminding people to wash their hands, which was probably meant for small children.
“So, what seems to be the problem?” asked Takemi. “Your mother mentioned that you were having stomach aches.”
“That isn’t it,” mumbled Ryuji.
Takemi gave him a look. “Oh. Well, you’re a legal adult now, so anything you tell me will remain completely confidential, unless you give me permission to share it. This is a judgment-free space.”
Yusuke took a moment to collect the words he needed. "Since I moved in with Sojiro and Mayumi, I've been gaining weight,” he began.
Takemi scribbled something down on her notepad. "Okay, and?"
"I've been doing my best to fix it, but I’m not sure it’s working..."
Takemi studied him for a long moment, sighed and closed her notepad. "There's nothing to fix Yusuke,” she explained gently. “The last time you saw me, you were dangerously underweight. You're far healthier now than you were two months ago."
"Then why do I feel worse ?" demanded Yusuke. “Surely I should be feeling better.”
“Yusuke, be honest with me, okay? I can only help you if you tell me the truth.”
“Okay,” said Yusuke tentatively.
Even though Takemi’s voice was gentle, it still felt like the floor is opening up underneath him when she asked, “Do you have an eating disorder?”
“I don’t know.” Maybe he does know, but he just doesn’t want to admit it.
“That’s okay. We can figure it out together,” said Takemi. “Do you restrict your diet in order to lose weight, make yourself sick after eating or binge eat to cope with emotions?”
A series of images flickered through Yusuke’s mind like some sort of awful slideshow.
Him throwing the lunch Mayumi lovingly made him in the trash.
Him trying to vomit quietly so his family wouldn’t hear him and hate him for it.
Him coming home after a stressful day at school and practically attacking the pantry, for the sole purpose of feeling something.
Fuck… He had an eating disorder.
“I think I need help,” he admitted to Takemi, and a little to himself too.
“With your permission, I’d like to give you a packet with some more information,” said Takemi. “Do I have your consent to share this information with your guardian? It would be easier to get you the help you need with their knowledge and support.”
For a moment, Yusuke hesitated, but eventually nodded. “I want her to know.”
“Okay. That was very brave of you, Yusuke. It’s never easy to admit that you have a problem.” Takemi’s voice was gentle and Yusuke felt strangely safe there with her, despite everything.
“I’m sensing that you’re still feeling some anxiety about this, so to reiterate, while you are a little overweight, it’s by a small margin,” she continued. “It’s normal for your weight to fluctuate a bit as you get used to a new diet. Nothing walking a mile for a few days can’t fix.”
Takemi flipped through a few more papers. “Additionally, I noticed something unusual at your last check up. You have an abnormally high blood glucose level. Does anyone in your family have a history of diabetes?”
“I’m not sure,” mumbled Yusuke, glancing away awkwardly.
“Ah, yes. I forgot… My apologies, Kitagawa.”
“It’s okay… I’m used to it.”
“You shouldn’t have to be,” insisted Takemi. “My point is, there’s a high likelihood that you’re diabetic. At your next appointment, I’d like to run some further tests to confirm that.”
Yusuke agreed, and the rest of his appointment went smoothly. By the end, Yusuke felt as though he had learnt a great deal about himself and his family, but there was still something needling at his heart.
By the time Yusuke returned to the Sakura-Sakamoto household, it was late, far into the evening. Most of his family were fast asleep, and Yusuke slipped into the kitchen to make himself something to eat before going to sleep.
Like always, he half expected the fridge to be locked, and was reassured to find it wasn’t. In the fridge, he found a bowl of curry, with cling film wrapped over it, and a post-it note stuck to it. This one was in Sojiro’s handwriting.
I made you some curry for when you get home from your appointment. Rice is in the rice cooker.
At that act of minute kindness, Yusuke broke down sobbing.
The kitchen door opened, and Sojiro stepped inside. “Yusuke, are you okay?”
Tears running down his cheeks in two neat tracks, Yusuke shook his head and was immediately enveloped in a hug. It was strangely cathartic to let himself cry into Sojiro’s shoulder, to not have to explain anything, for once.
Eventually, he did. “Dad, I think I have an eating disorder.”
“Thank you for telling me,” said Sojiro. “We can get you help. Mayumi would probably know more than me about what to do though…”
“Can you just hold me?” asked Yusuke softly.
Sojiro held him tighter. “Of course.”
The following evening, Yusuke decided to take on a little bit of Takemi’s advice and Mayumi asked Futaba to join him on a walk. Futaba quickly agreed and Yusuke couldn’t help but wonder why. Of all of the people in his life, surely Futaba would be the least willing to do something like this? Especially with him…
Both of them were walking rather slowly, the colors of the cloudy evening sky were not helping their mood. Desperate to find a way to pass the time, Futaba asked, “So, you uh…did any good art stuff lately?”
“Not right now, Futaba.”
Futaba stopped walking, watching Yusuke go past her. Yusuke would never pass up the opportunity to gush about all the new techniques he was learning. Realizing she’d be taking longer if she stopped here, she caught up to Yusuke, inhaling once she was able to slow down. “That bad, huh?”
"I'm ugly. I'm ugly and disgusting and no one wants me. That’s why I haven’t been able to paint my self-portrait."
Futaba gave Yusuke a funny look. "Do you think I'm ugly?" she asked.
The question caught Yusuke off guard, and he wasn’t sure what, if anything, he should say to his sister.
"Of course not,” he replied.
"Well, we're in the exact same boat, Inari,” Futaba teased. “and I want you as my brother regardless of your body, so stop being a dumbass."
“You don’t understand...” grumbled Yusuke.
“Bro, just look at me.” Futaba pulled up the bottom of her shirt a little to reveal a similar chubby gut that Yusuke had. “See?” She proved as she jiggled her belly up and down with her other hand, causing Yusuke to glance away.
“Gross…” he mumbled.
“Yeah, yeah, I get it. I had my fun.” Futaba waved off as she put her shirt back down. “My point is, there’s nothing wrong with looking like us. Everyone’s bodies look different. That’s a part of what makes life interesting.”
Yusuke was quiet, still unconvinced, so Futaba decided to word it in a way he would understand. “If everyone looked the same, it would be like painting a still life with lots of the same fruit. Boring, you know.”
“There can actually be a lot of variety, even with subjects of the same nature,” replied Yusuke, in the tone he usually used when he was about to launch into an art ramble.
Futaba rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean.”
“... I do. Thank you, Futaba.”
“Hug?” she offered.
Yusuke smiled. “Of course.”
It took more effort than usual for Futaba to wrap her arms around her brother, but once she did, the feeling of Futaba’s head pressing against his softer chest felt better than any other time they hugged.
“Besides, you’re much more huggable like this.” Futaba said softly.
Yusuke smiled as he pulled his similarly-sized sister in; they slotted together perfectly.
A few months after that conversation with Futaba, Yusuke picked up the canvas he had painted over black. It had been left abandoned in the very back of his cupboard for a while, and he was worried that it wouldn’t be salvageable, but looking at it now, he was certain that he could still use it.
With calm, steady hands, Yusuke picked up his widest brush and painted over the harsh black with white to give himself a good base to work on. He took a moment to examine himself in the mirror; taking in all the traits that made him himself.
He had finally reached a healthy, stable weight, with the help of Takemi and Mayumi. Over the weeks, his hair, which was already long, had finally grown out enough for Ann to braid it, which she loved to do, and he had borrowed one of Akira’s old shirts to paint in.
With a sense of ease he hadn’t felt in months, Yusuke began to paint. This time, he was certain of who he really was, deep down beneath the years of trauma and emotional repression.
He was Yusuke Sakura-Sakamoto.
And he was finally happy.