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The late afternoon sun paints the sky above the tranquil beach with hues of orange, pink, and red, casting a warm glow over the calm waters of Malaysia’s shoreline. There’s a beach house in the distance, nestled among palm trees and encircled by the gentle sound of waves. It exudes a serene atmosphere—its wooden structure, weathered by the salty sea breeze, stands as a testament to many summers spent in quiet solitude.
With peace.
As the sun begins its slow descent towards the horizon, two brothers stroll along the sandy shore, their footsteps leaving soft imprints in the hot sand. The eldest brother walks slightly ahead, his gaze fixed on the beach house. Beside him, the younger brother follows suit, his eyes taking in the beauty of the scene around them.
There’s a comfortable silence between them, broken only by the distant cry of seagulls and the rhythmic lapping of waves.
As they reach the wooden steps leading up to the veranda, Yuuji turns toward Choso with a grin.
“Race you to the top!” Yuuji exclaims, already taking off in a sprint.
Choso is right behind him, his brows furrowed in confusion as he responds, “Why are we running, little brother? Is there danger?”
Except there isn’t danger. Nothing is threatening them, nothing is looming over them. They are safe. They have nothing to fear.
They reach the top of the stairs almost simultaneously. Yuuji leans against the wooden railing of the veranda, catching his breath, and inhaling the aroma of freshly baked bread.
“It’s a game, Choso,” Yuuji explains as the two of them enter the house through the screen door. “You’re just racing for fun and no other purpose.”
“I see. I will try harder to beat you next time, then.”
Choso won’t. On the contrary, he knows Choso well enough to realize that he often lets him win. Sometimes Yuuji beats him fair and square, but more often Choso doesn’t put his all into their sparring matches, preferring to yield when he could easily win.
When they enter the kitchen, a blonde man stands over the stove, flipping a grilled cheese in the pan over the burner.
“You’re late,” Nanami tells them, his eyes flashing to the clock on the wall.
8:03 .
“You told us to be back by 8,” Yuuji says, taking a seat at the kitchen island.
“It’s three minutes past 8,” Nanami responds, his brow arched as he plates the last sandwich on a platter.
Half a dozen perfectly toasted, golden brown sandwiches appear in front of him, but he is wise enough not to reach out and take one before Nanami settles into his usual place.
“It’s my fault,” Choso says and bows his head low, clearly still unaccustomed to how unnecessary that behavior is around Nanami. “I asked Yuuji to stay longer because I was finally grasping how to surf. My little brother is a good teacher.”
“You are so formal, Choso. Here, take this.” Then, Nanami pushes the platter to the middle of the island and settles on the bar stool next to Yuuji. “I just finished baking this bread a few hours ago. These are going to get cold if you don’t eat them fast.”
With the platter empty, Nanami pours tea for them all, the fragrant steam rising in curling tendrils as they lean back in their chairs, content.
It’s still warm when all three men step out onto the beach, even though the sun set hours ago. The stars above them begin to twinkle, from the sandy shore, the universe stretches out before them. The stars shine with a special brightness tonight, and Nanami points out the various constellations along with their corresponding legends.
It’s a moment frozen in time. Something eternal.
Under the blanket of night, Choso leans into Yuuji, shoulder-to-shoulder as they gaze out into the neverending darkness.
“Thank you, Yuuji, for becoming my brother,” Choso says, his voice small. It doesn’t take away the sincerity, though. An earnestness that embodies everything that Choso is and everything that Choso does.
Nanami’s eyes linger on them, a rare smile on his face.
“No,” Yuuji replies, shaking his head with a carefree laugh. “Thank you , Aniki.”