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The chain connecting to the light switch clicked as it was pulled downwards, tarnished from age and decades of use. The bulb flickered on, filling the closet with a dull hum of light. Ichimatsu squinted at the shelf above where the sextuplets' clothes hung, a sour expression still stuck on his face.
It was difficult to find a good hiding spot for the sextuplets' individual belongings, given how little space they had - or rather, how much space they took up on their own. Even if one of them tried finding a space for their personal effects, it never stayed concealed for long. Not when the sinister, spiteful hands of the others still existed to make sure that no proverbial stone be left unturned. This was obvious to Ichimatsu now more than ever, after the discovery that Osomatsu had yet again eaten all of the dried sardines intended for his own feline companions.
Ichimatsu was still scowling at the inconvenience of having to scour the house for a better hiding spot for his pets' food. As the light buzzed above him, he noted that the shelf was at an awkward height, slightly too far to get anything down with ease. Because of this, the random boxes and belongings that were already stored there were covered in a thin layer of dust. Perfect. At the very least, maybe this hiding spot would buy him more time than the last. His brothers could be truly relentless in their meddling.
Ichimatsu craned his neck a bit, taking stock of the shelf, looking for a good opening between everything that he could slip the fresh bag of treats clasped in his hand into. There wasn't anything obvious available, and he clicked his tongue his annoyance. He stood up on his toes, beginning to push some things around to make a space. He could just barely touch the back of the wall from that position, outstretching himself fully, and he could feel a cozy little nook where his friends' treats would fit nicely. He lifted his other hand up, shoving the bag into the space he had made with a little difficulty. As he placed the item, rearranging a few things to ensure it would not be seen, his elbow caught on a stack of books that had been teetering off the edge due to his digging. They crashed to the ground loudly, and he jumped.
"Shit," he muttered to himself, clicking his tongue again. Luckily, none of his brothers were home yet, otherwise the ruckus would have arisen suspicion. Regardless, he crouched down to gather the items with a bit of urgency, only vaguely taking stock in what they were.
There were a couple old textbooks from high school that no one had gotten around to getting rid of, for some reason. A few ragged magazines, outdated celebrity gossip; must have been Todomatsu's at one point. An educational children's book about snails, its purpose and owner best not thought about. Nothing interesting or worth more than a second of his attention.
As he picked up one of the last books, he revealed something much smaller that had ended up at the bottom of the pile, but its appearance made him stop. It was fairly small photobook, somehow seeming less dusty than everything else.
It was covered front to back in an obnoxious amount of blue glitter. So it was Karamatsu's, probably.
Ichimatsu cocked his head to the side in curiosity, grabbing the book in his other hand, flipping it over and studying it as he stood back up. There were no other distinguishing labels on it. It was a little odd that it was here in the closet. The family tended to keep all their albums out of storage. Matsuyo in particular enjoyed having them easily accessible. So why was this one squirreled away? It must be embarrassing, somehow. If it was Karamatsu's, it was sure to be.
He considered it for a moment, deciding to keep it out as he shoved the rest of the pile back on the shelf. It would probably be worth a look. If it was something shameful, he might be able to hold it over Karamatsu's head for a while, maybe get some extra money out of him. At the very least, knowing something mortifying about any of his brothers was a reward in and of itself.
It was held closed by a single strap fastened with a little metal button clasp, and he pulled it open with no trouble. He didn't bother leaving the closet, thinking that he would simply flip through it briefly, before either putting it back in disinterest or keeping it for blackmail purposes later on. He opened the cover to the first page.
The book was only big enough to hold one picture on each side of the page. The very first picture was of two of the six brothers, looking to be aged at about one year old. It was hard for any of them to distinguish who was who when looking at photos from when they were that young unless they were labeled, so Ichimatsu had no idea who the two might be. They were eating some kind of sweet - it looked like they might be cream puffs - and it looked as if neither of them actually managed to get the food into their mouths, with the mess smeared across both their faces.
The picture itself was so benign, bordering on uninteresting, that Ichimatsu was almost a little surprised. He flipped to the next page. The next two pictures weren't much different. Two of the brothers in both, at around the same age as before. Ichimatsu couldn't tell if it was the same two in both photos, or different ones. The first picture showed them fast asleep in their parent's futon. The second looked to be either on their birthday or Christmas, as it showed them surrounded by torn-up wrapping paper, one of them busying himself with an empty box - while the toy that had seemingly been inside that box sat neglected on the floor beside them.
Ichimatsu couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the photos in front of him. It was just baby pictures. Just like any other photobook they had in the house. Why did Karamatsu have this? If it even was his. But with the how the cover looked, Ichimatsu would be shocked if it wasn't. So why was it tucked away in the closet like this?
Curiosity got the better of him, and he flipped through to the next page. It was the same pattern of only two of the brothers, but in these pictures, the boys looked a bit older. Maybe by a couple months, perhaps even two years of age. These two were similarly unimportant at first glance. But the longer Ichimatsu looked, he finally noticed something.
In the next picture, one of the boys looked like he had just been crying. He had a binky in his mouth. His brother was holding both his hands loosely, despite having a stuffed animal clutched in one of them, kissing a chubby, tear-stained cheek gently.
On the opposite page, one of the boys was sitting down, wrapped up in a blanket. The other baby was sitting beside him, hugging him from the side, their cheeks smooshed together. What finally caught Ichimatsu's attention was that the one bundled up was wearing a small, white surgical mask, and looked sallow and tired. It was a little unnerving to see an infant in that state. But it suddenly made Ichimatsu stop and think, and things started to connect in his brain.
He remembered Matsuyo and Matsuzou telling him what a sickly baby he had been. According to them, he had given them more than a few scares in his infancy. Upon hearing this, he had only found it funny, in a morbid way. It just figured, with him being the "unlucky" fourth brother. Additionally, to this day, he didn't have the best immune system. He always seemed to catch everything first.
As soon as the realization hit him, he took a closer look at both of the pictures. He finally noticed a stuffed animal sitting in the lap of the sick boy, barely visible but definitely present. A feeling of unease settled in the pit of Ichimatsu's stomach.
It was a little toy cat. The same one in the previous picture, being held by the boy comforting his brother.
It was the same stuffed cat Ichimatsu had had since he could remember. He kept it for years after he ought to have outgrown it, well into high school, until he finally let his mother put it into storage. She had wanted to keep it even if he was too embarrassed to hold onto it any longer, saying there were many good memories attached to it. According to her, he almost never let go of it as a toddler.
As he finally processed that it was, in fact, himself in these two pictures, a strange feeling of dread overcame him. He only had a small idea of what he was afraid of, and even with that, he couldn't describe why trepidation was the first thing he felt. He flipped back to the first photo, pulling it out of the protective plastic sleeve. Matsuyo usually wrote on the back of these older pictures. She would write their names, to help tell who was who. He flipped the old photograph over.
"Karamatsu and Ichimatsu".
Ichimatsu swallowed roughly, replacing the photo and moving onto the next two. The backs of these were also written on. As were the two after them. They all said the same thing. "Karamatsu and Ichimatsu".
By the time Ichimatsu replaced the photo of his sickly, younger self, his chest felt tight. He didn't have any questions anymore, despite only being five pages in. He knew exactly what he was holding in his hands.
"You're an idiot," Ichimatsu muttered to himself in reference to the second brother, staring at the pictures before him. He had the urge to close the photobook up and put it back in its place. But after a tense moment of consideration, he couldn't stop himself from taking a step out of the dim closet, into the better lighting of their bedroom. He sat himself down on the floor and flipped to the next page.
Of course Karamatsu would have an album full of pictures of the two of them. Of course he would be a sentimental idiot like that. Collecting stupid memories. Things that didn't matter anymore.
As Ichimatsu slowly paged through the pictures, he found that they were strictly in order. Again, he was unsurprised at the meticulous set up, and if he still had any doubt that it was Karamatsu's book, it was completely erased by this fact. Additionally, the further he went through, the more apparent it became that these were all photos of him and Karamatsu. As they aged, it was obvious even without checking the backs of them. It was a bit interesting, paging through the years of their childhood like this, literally seeing their separate mannerisms developing page by page. The photos existing of their early years were somewhat erratically spaced, and not exactly numerous. He imagined that the majority of the photos from their early childhood were of the six of them as a unit, as for the first decade of their lives, they very rarely broke off from the pack. But there were a few scattered instances of this. They were of random moments back then. A few pictures from their 7-5-3 festival, some on the first day of a new grade in school, some random vacations; a ski trip, a beach trip, and a camping trip in particular. Some of them still had the rest of the family somewhere in the background. But the focus was clear.
As he flipped through, he noticed that by the time they had turned eleven, the span of time between each photo decreased. The moments were more clustered together, and the transition between the years was nearly seamless because of this. It made Ichimatsu's chest tighten. He thought about that time a little wistfully, a part in his life that he could recall and relate to better than their infancy or early childhood. It was a time when his head hadn't felt so heavy, and the world around him wasn't as smothering. He was quiet back then; he hadn't been fond of talking to new people, or of making waves on his own. But there was no particular reason behind it. He just preferred to keep to himself. He liked reading a lot back then. He was a little artsy, too. He drew off and on, and he had started writing in his sixth year of school.
He didn't do those things much anymore.
He remembered how Karamatsu was back then, too. Honestly, he wasn't much different from how he was now. He was a little more relaxed, and didn't try as hard to impress. Other than that, he hadn't changed much. He was just as painful and empty-headed. And just as patient, kind, and genuine.
Karamatsu had been quiet, too. He was more social than Ichimatsu, enjoyed meeting new people and passing around small talk, but he always needed some peace to retreat to eventually. He like sewing and knitting more back then: anything kind of monotonous, something that kept his hands busy but allowed his mind to wander. He read a lot, too.
It was around that time that Ichimatsu and Karamatsu would begin breaking off from the rest of the group of brothers, preferring to read in a more quiet part of the house than listen to everyone else's incessant squawking.
One of the pictures reflected this a little too well. It had clearly been taken without their knowledge, showing the two of them huddled around the living room table, looking calm and reserved as they read to themselves. Ichimatsu remembered how often they used to do that, just sitting quietly with each other's company.
The rest of the pictures were a random mix of candid and posed, although more of them were posed. There were many of them dressed up for a new year of school, or even at the school itself. There were some of another family vacation. Their thirteenth birthday party. At one of Jyushimatsu's baseball games. Holding up the gifts they had gotten on Christmas. And so many more scattered moments in between. In almost all of the photos, Ichimatsu and Karamatsu had the same kind of expression. They were both happy in those years. Always grinning, usually with their arms flung over each other's shoulders or nudging each other playfully.
They were close back then. It could be seen just in their body language in these pictures, but even worse, Ichimatsu could remember it first-hand. He could remember spending nearly every minute with his older brother, listening to him speak passionately about a book he had read or a new craft project he wanted to start. Ichimatsu had found it easiest to talk to him, too. Karamatsu was a good listener. He was always interested in what his little brother had to say. Always impressed with the things he drew or wrote, whenever Ichimatsu could drum up the courage to show it to him.
Ichimatsu could remember never feeling as safe or as warm as he did when he was with Karamatsu.
Ichimatsu paused on one of the pages, trying to give himself a break. At this point, they were in their ninth year of school in these two pictures. One of them was a candid, looking like it was taken at their grandma's house, of Karamatsu guiding Ichimatsu somewhere out of frame, a hand unconsciously clasped around his brother's. The other was of them at a school festival, turned towards the camera as Ichimatsu held the reluctant-looking second brother in a headlock, placing an exaggerated, teasing kiss against his cheek.
Karamatsu really was an idiot. What was the point of this? What was the point of keeping record of something so long gone? It was enough to make Ichimatsu sick to his stomach. He could only imagine what it did to the second son.
Ichimatsu was still thinking about just closing the book and putting it back without a word. He could try to forget about it entirely. Pretend that it didn't exist. But his fingers still flicked at the edge of the page absently, and he eventually turned it.
It took him a moment to process the significance of the two pictures before him, but as soon as he realized when and where they had been taken, his stomach lurched painfully.
Maybe it was only significant to him. But the first picture was taken the night they graduated junior high, and their parents had taken them out to dinner. Ichimatsu and Karamatsu were sitting together, smiling for the camera, the same most of the other ones before it. It almost didn't look out of the ordinary. But Ichimatsu couldn't get the setting out of his head. It had been their last day of middle school. After that summer, they would begin their first year of high school.
Ichimatsu focused on himself in that picture more than anything else. He looked happy. He looked comfortable. He looked like the rest of his brothers, like any other kid looking forward to the summer, and after that, an entirely new setting with no end of possibilities.
They hadn't done anything particularly spectacular for the break, so the next picture was of one of their first days in high school. He and Karamatsu were standing outside their house in their crisp, new uniforms, facing the camera and smiling.
Ichimatsu's smile looked forced. Or, at least, he knew very well that it had been. He remembered that he had been nervous to start their first week. More nervous than any of the others. More nervous than he should have been.
He looked back and forth between the two pictures, and his mind warped the images until the two depictions of himself began to look like completely different people. He found himself focusing on the older picture after a while, a lump forming in his throat. The longer he stared at it, the glassier his eyes became, and the louder the voice in his head sounded off, the same thought echoing through him with devastating awareness.
This was probably the last picture anyone had of him before everything went wrong.
Ichimatsu didn't know why he bothered continuing through the album. He looked at each picture somberly, sniffing as tears began to roll down his cheeks.
The time frame between photos was too spaced out again. It was a harsh transition from all the pictures of him and Karamatsu in middle school. There weren't anymore pictures of the two outside of school or the house. Ichimatsu had stopped going out as much. But Karamatsu was still, unshakably present beside him. Even through the forced smiles and the ever-growing discomfort.
There were only a few photos of them during their tenth year. One was a picture of them at Karamatsu's first school play. Ichimatsu remembered that he almost didn't go to it. It had been a bad day for him. But he couldn't miss something so important to his older brother. It had felt like the crowd in the theater was pressing against him at all sides. He had trouble breathing the whole night, and he didn't know why. It was only a few days after that night that the school counselor would give his parents a referal to a psychiatrist.
The next was a picture that Karamatsu had taken of them with Todomatsu's old cell phone, which he had miraculously left behind in the house that day. Ichimatsu remembered this day, too. They had all been invited to a popular girl's birthday party that weekend. They were all thrilled about it, but Ichimatsu backed out at the last minute. He remembered his heart beating so rapidly that it made his entire chest hurt. His medication hadn't been working for him. Karamatsu had stayed home with him so he wouldn't be alone. At that point, it had become obvious that leaving Ichimatsu with his own thoughts could cause more harm than good.
After that, there was one of them on the roof, eating kebabs. They were already approaching the end of their first year in high school. Ichimatsu remembered that the summer had come early that year. The nights were too humid and sticky, and he hated the feeling of it closing in around every inch of his body. He was only wearing long-sleeved shirts at that point. They scratched and irritated all the marks on his arms. It probably didn't help matters.
He knew there wouldn't be any pictures of their summer vacation that year, the one weekend trip to the beach that they took at the beginning of the season. Ichimatsu didn't leave the room the entire time they were there, much less go in the water.
The family didn't have a chance to do anything else that summer. Not after what Ichimatsu did.
The next picture skipped forward to the end of their final year. It was a big jump. Ichimatsu guessed that he probably didn't look pleasant enough for someone to take pictures of him. "Suicidal" wasn't a flattering look for him. He didn't do a lot after that, anyway. He stopped reading. He stopped drawing and writing. At that point, he no longer had the energy to focus on the things - or the people - that he loved.
They were at their graduation ceremony. Ichimatsu's smile was still forced, but he at least looked a little more relaxed standing beside Karamatsu that day. Not as tense or anxious as before. Karamatsu had his arm around his shoulder, pulling him in close. He was still grinning, despite everything that had happened during those years. He was still holding his younger brother like he was something beloved, despite what Ichimatsu had done to the family. What he had done to himself. But Karamatsu was always still there.
The pictures began to blur before Ichimatsu, and he blinked the tears away from his eyes. He turned to the next page. And then the next. And then the next.
The rest of the book was empty.
"Heh. I'm home."
Ichimatsu's back was turned to the door as it slid open suddenly, but the voice and speech were unmistakable. He could almost picture him leaning against the door frame like he always did, eyes closed and holding his chin in his hand. The fourth brother slammed the photo album closed, clasping it tightly in his palms as his entire body went rigid. Karamatsu paused behind him, as if waiting for a reply to his announcement, but when he didn't get one, he finally looked up.
"I said. I'm ho-" Karamatsu's slightly indignant tone hitched as he took stock in the situation before him, his voice almost completely changing mid-word, "-ome.... Ichimatsu? Are you crying?"
Ichimatsu could feel his ears heat up in embarrassment, and he hunched into himself as he wiped his tears away with the sleeve of his hoodie.
"No." He shot back, the trembling of his voice contradicting his answer. Karamatsu took a step forward.
"Hey, Ichimatsu, what's wro-" He cut himself short again, and Ichimatsu realized that he was now close enough to see what he had in his hands. The second brother's voice changed again. "Why do you have that?"
His volume had risen defensively, something Ichimatsu hadn't been expecting, and it actually made him flinch. It must have been visible enough for Karamatsu to notice, because he immediately backed down.
"No, I- I'm sorry," he said, voice going back to a gentle drone. He approached his brother and cautiously sat down next to him. Ichimatsu didn't stop him, but he didn't look up at him either. It was difficult enough to hold the emotion in his chest back without having to see whatever pitiful, worried expression his brother was sporting. "I just didn't think you'd- I'm sorry."
Ichimatsu couldn't even think of what the say to him, let alone speak it out loud, so when Karamatsu trailed off, they sat in uncomfortable silence. He didn't think Karamatsu knew what to say in this situation, either.
"I, um," Karamatsu began after a while, the quiet becoming too much to bear. "I... made that a few years ago. I was looking through our baby pictures for something, and I thought it would be nice to have. I... I hope you're not mad or anything. I just wanted to...."
Karamatsu either lacked the diction or strength to finish that sentence, and he fell into silence again. Ichimatsu bit the inside of his cheek.
"It's stupid." He croaked simply, if only for a lack of anything else to say. Karamatsu hesitated before a humorless laugh rolled out from his throat.
"Yeah. I guess it is."
Ichimatsu immediately regretted his words as soon as he received Karamatsu's dull, reserved reply. But he didn't know what else to do.
After a pregnant pause, Ichimatsu had a somewhat intrusive thought, and it was nearly enough to send him into a breakdown. But he swallowed the surge of emotions back the best he could as he looked back down at the photobook, opening it up again. Shaking, numb fingers flipped through the pages until he found the photo of their junior high graduation celebration again. He carefully slid it out of the plastic covering, holding it in his hands.
"Can I-" Ichimatsu's voice cracked. Another tear rolled down his cheek, and it took all his strength just to take a breath and finish his sentence. "C-can I have this one?"
Karamatsu seemed a little taken aback by the question, although it was difficult to tell when Ichimatsu still couldn't bear to look up at him.
"Heh.... That one's my favorite, too," Karamatsu replied. Ichimatsu inhaled sharply, which prompted the elder brother to quickly add, "I mean- You can have it, though."
"You keep it." Ichimatsu backtracked. He was about to slide the photograph back into its place when Karamatsu placed a gentle hand atop of his own, stilling him.
"No, no," Karamatsu insisted. He smiled at his brother reassuringly, though his eyes looked a bit sad. "If you want it, I want you to have it. Okay?"
Ichimatsu couldn't answer him. He bit his lip, trying to regain his composure. This was stupid. It wasn't a big deal. It wasn't like he couldn't just get a copy made of it and give it back to him. Or, more likely, get it made and slip it back into Karamatsu's book without telling him. Karamatsu was spacey; he probably wasn't thinking of that.
Still, if the thought really hadn't crossed his mind, he was letting go of something very precious to him. A reminder of something he had already lost. What they had both lost.
Ichimatsu really couldn't understand Karamatsu sometimes. Aside from the typical kindness that was still going strong after all these years, Ichimatsu couldn't relate to the book he held in his hands, or the idea of clinging to memories like this. Not when he was the one so desperate not to be reminded of his past actions, he had sacrificed everything he knew and loved just to try moving on.
Maybe he was getting better, though. Subjectively, he knew he had been, but it was difficult for him acknowledge these changes as they occurred. But even as the picture before him filled him with a sickening sense of guilt, he really did want to have it. It made him the slightest bit nostalgic, even wistful. In a good way.
It was a new feeling for Ichimatsu, so he couldn't pinpoint its origin or its meaning. But maybe it just meant that things were still getting better.
After a long time, Ichimatsu inhaled deeply.
"I'll trade you for it."
Karamatsu blinked dumbly at his younger brother as he failed to understand his words.
"Hm? What do you mean?" He asked, confusion distorting the end of his sentence.
"I'll trade you for it," Ichimatsu repeated. He glanced up at Karamatsu sheepishly, still too apprehensive to make full eye contact despite being more outwardly confident in his words. "If you want to go out tonight and grab a drink or something, we can- I'll give you something else you can add to this." He raised the album in his hand up in a lazy gesture.
For a moment, Ichimatsu was worried that his words were still too vague for the elder brother, and that he would just end up having to back out of the suggestion due to embarrassment. However, something in Karamatsu's eyes soon changed, and he looked taken aback. His hand, still resting on top of Ichimatsu's, was pulled back instinctively.
"What?" Karamatsu asked quietly. The soft disbelief in his voice sent a jolt of panic through Ichimatsu, and he looked away again.
"I-if you don't want to-"
"No!" Karamatsu's reply was quick, and urgently so. He seemed to immediately realize his tone, and he tried to reign it back in. "No, no, I- I'd love that! I'd love that. I mean, as long as you really want to, th-then that would be great. I just- I'd really, really love that."
Karamatsu's voice was beginning to warble emotionally, and Ichimatsu could feel his heart pounding against his chest. He was already overwhelmed, and he didn't think he could handle it if Karamatsu started crying.
In an attempt to break through the stifling mood, Ichimatsu gave him a light-hearted punch in the bicep. It may have been a little too hard still, because Karamatsu let out a small yelp and clutched his arm in pain. Ichimatsu wasn't good at holding back.
"You're buying drinks, though," he muttered, sniffing and wiping the last bit of wetness from his lashes.
Karamatsu had been pouting pitifully as he nursed his arm, but he looked back at Ichimatsu as he spoke, and he seemed to brighten up again. Ichimatsu wasn't sure how he could still look at him like that. With such genuine warmth. But even if it ate at Ichimatsu a little, it made him happy.
"That sounds good." Karamatsu replied, chuckling. He hesitated for a moment before Ichimatsu suddenly felt his arm cautiously wrap itself across his own shoulders, the contact loose and wary, checking for a reaction. Ichimatsu flinched a bit at the initial touch, but with the head space he was in now, his entire body relaxed itself immediately. He sighed quietly, allowing himself to lean into his brother a little. Karamatsu took this as an opportunity to pull him in closer. He seemed to deflate to a certain extent as well, letting his head droop and resting it against Ichimatsu's. His thumb made a comforting sweeping motion on his brother's shoulder absently, his palm squeezing his arm.
The corners of Ichimatsu's mouth turned up in a faint smile. The picture in his hands caught his gaze momentarily.
The image didn't seem as far away as it had before.