Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

After the U-20 match, Rin finally found himself free from the so-called hellish prison of Blue Lock .

Not that it was truly hell. Sure, it was crowded with boys who were too loud, too tepid, and lukewarm in their ambitions—at least compared to his. But there was something about the constant chaos that contrasted with the cold silence of his supposed home. Though he’d never admit it, not even to himself, Rin kind of missed that noise.

Usually, his parents would be home. But as if the universe loved to toy with him, their business trip had to coincide perfectly with his rare two-week break.

He wasn’t sure whether to call it bad luck or good luck. He loved being away from people, but it was different when it came to his parents. They were the only ones he felt comfortable enough around to let his guard down—even enough to indulge in small, unconscious habits like drooling when he was to immerse in, something he’d been hyper-aware of during his time at Blue Lock .

And then there was his brother. The brother he swore he’d disowned—not the other way around. If anyone was doing the abandoning, it would be Rin, not Sae.

Still, as Rin stepped into the solitude of his house, his gaze landed on a note stuck to the top of the shelf.

“Mom and Dad will be out for a while. Sorry, dear. Take care! ❤”

He couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips.

After tossing his bag aside, his muscle memory carried him to his room. When he opened the door, he found it spotless. “Mom must’ve cleaned it before they left,” he murmured.

It was still morning, and Rin fell into his usual routine. He opened the window, did some light stretches, and followed up with yoga. No way was he letting himself slack just because he was on break.

By evening, boredom pushed him to take a walk. He bought himself a popsicle and wandered toward the shore. The red hues of the setting sun painted the water, and for a brief moment, Rin felt calm. The loneliness was still there, but it wasn’t suffocating—it was almost peaceful.

When the sky darkened and the stars began to scatter, Rin made his way home. After a quick shower and rummaging through the fridge for snacks, he found himself sitting in the living room with an old CD of Sae’s matches playing on the TV.

As the game unfolded, Rin’s annoyance simmered. He hated watching Sae, hated how effortlessly brilliant his brother was. Yet, no matter how much resentment burned in him, Rin couldn’t help but feel mesmerized, proud even.

“Nii-chan is awesome,” he thought, and immediately scowled at himself. He’d never say it out loud. Part of him still burned to destroy Sae—on the pitch, of course.

To shake off the conflicting emotions, Rin retreated upstairs to his room. It had been a while since he’d indulged in one of his favorite pastimes. Horror games.

Switching on his computer, Rin connected his Bluetooth headphones, adjusted his gaming chair, and logged into the game. He cranked up the volume, letting the intense sound design surround him.

The thrill of horror wasn’t just entertainment for Rin—it was catharsis. The pounding of his heart, the moments of tension, and the fleeting adrenaline rush gave him something he couldn’t find in the stillness of his empty house.

It reminded him, faintly, of the intensity he’d felt on the field during the match. For a while, it filled the void, giving him a sense of belonging—even if it was only for a few hours.

Despite his steady exterior, most people wouldn’t think Rin’s immersion in horror games benefitted him much. After all, he played them with a straight face, barely reacting even when ghosts jumped out on screen. Sure, his heart raced at times, but he had enough control to keep any sign of fear hidden—even with no one around to judge him. That was just who he was.

Sometimes, when he got too absorbed, he’d even start drooling. Not that it bothered him. If anything, it meant he was fully engrossed, lost in the adrenaline rush that made him forget the hollow feeling inside.

The eerie sound design of the game filled his ears through his headphones, drawing him deeper into the experience. But then, another sound broke through—a faint noise that didn’t belong.

Rin frowned, pausing the game and lifting the right side of his headphones. His gaze flicked to his bedroom door. Silence. After a couple of seconds, he shrugged and resumed playing, chalking it up to his imagination.

But then he heard it again.

This time, it sounded like footsteps. His heart skipped, but he repeated the same gesture—headphones off, ears straining—and again, silence.

The third time, though, the noise was louder, more distinct. It wasn’t coming from the game. Rin’s lips pressed into a thin line as his curiosity began to outweigh his growing unease. He paused the game entirely and stood, his chair creaking softly in the quiet room.

The sound came again, just as he moved to the door. It was faint but unmistakable—the metallic clatter of something in the kitchen. Pans? His first thought was his mom, but he quickly dismissed it, recalling the note. His parents weren’t due back for two weeks.

His chest tightened.

If it wasn’t them...

Rin wasn’t the type to believe in ghosts. If anything, the thought of a break-in seemed more plausible—and infinitely more dangerous. The idea of someone targeting his home because of his connection to Sae made his stomach churn. The thought alone made the back of his neck prickle with cold fear.

Swallowing hard, Rin steeled himself and moved cautiously toward the stairs, each step deliberate and soundless. The closer he got to the kitchen, the louder the noises became. A clinking of metal, the scrape of something shifting on the counter.

His palms felt clammy as he approached the last few steps. The kitchen light was on, spilling a faint glow into the otherwise dark hallway. He hesitated, debating whether to call out, but fear rooted his voice in his throat.

Instead, he crept forward, peeking around the corner into the kitchen.

What he saw made his heart stop.

Sae was standing at the stove, casually flipping takoyaki with a pair of chopsticks. Rin’s gaze zeroed in on the little spheres of dough, one of which had a piece of octopus clearly poking out, almost taunting him.

He froze in place, his mind grinding to a halt.

What...

The sight was so absurd, so utterly out of place, that all he could do was gape. His body straightened on autopilot, mouth slightly open as his brain struggled to process the scene before him.

It took a few seconds—too many, probably—but eventually, Sae looked up. His calm, indifferent gaze landed on Rin, and his eyebrows rose, just a fraction. Then, as if nothing about this was remotely strange, he returned to his takoyaki, flipping another piece with the same deliberate precision.

Rin blinked.

Once. Twice.

Nope, still there.

This wasn’t a dream, was it?

A million questions raced through Rin’s mind, colliding with each other in a chaotic jumble.

Why was Sae here?

Wasn’t he supposed to be in Spain, being the overachieving star he loved bragging about?

What was he even doing? Cooking takoyaki at nearly midnight like it was the most normal thing in the world?

What kind of lukewarm nonsense was this?

His brain refused to cooperate, leaving him rooted to the spot, utterly baffled.

“How long are you going to stand there?” Sae’s voice finally broke the silence, cool and detached as always.

It wasn’t even a real question. Just a statement, laced with that infuriating Sae-like apathy that made Rin’s blood boil.

Rin’s mouth opened and closed like a fish as he scrambled to find words. “W-What the hell are you doing here?” he finally managed, his voice coming out sharper than he intended.

Sae didn’t even glance up this time. “Cooking,” he replied simply, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.

“That’s not—” Rin stopped himself, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “You’re supposed to be in Spain, you idiot!”

Sae shrugged, unfazed. “I canceled my flight..”

“What? And you didn’t think to, I don’t know, tell me?”

“Why would I?” Sae turned off the heat and started plating the takoyaki. “I knew you’d find out eventually.”

Rin’s jaw clenched, his earlier confusion giving way to simmering irritation. “You’re unbelievable.”

Sae finally turned to face him, holding the plate of takoyaki in one hand. “And you’re loud. Want one?”

The sheer audacity of it left Rin speechless.

Okay, let’s recap.

Rin had been expecting a quiet, peaceful night at home. Alone. Maybe some gaming, maybe some snacks. What he hadn't expected was his brother—his strict diet freak of a brother—cooking takoyaki in their kitchen at nearly midnight. Sae, who once turned down French fries on principle.

“Help me cut the onion leaves,” Sae said casually, as though this whole situation was perfectly normal.

“Why should I?” Rin snapped. But somehow, his body betrayed him, his muscles automatically moving to obey like they always had. Before he even processed it, he was holding a cutting board and helping with the toppings and sauce.

“I thought you were strict about your diet,” Rin grumbled as he rolled his eyes, slicing the green onions with more force than necessary. “This doesn’t look very strict to me.”

“It’s hard to stop some habits when you’re back home,” Sae replied simply, his tone as unreadable as ever.

Oh.

Rin had forgotten about that.

There was one thing about Sae that few people knew: he had a weird habit of cooking random meals close to midnight. It wasn’t logical, and it didn’t fit the image people had of him, but it was one of the rare quirks Sae allowed himself to have. Rin used to help him with it all the time, back before everything got so complicated.

He didn’t think Sae still did this.

The realization hit Rin like a soft, nostalgic wave. It was... strangely warm. It almost felt like the Sae he remembered—the one from before—was sitting right there with him.

“Why takoyaki, though?” Rin asked, his curiosity slipping through despite himself.

But before Sae could answer, he shoved a freshly cooked takoyaki into Rin’s mouth. Rin barely had time to protest before the juicy, savory flavor hit his tongue. His eyes widened in surprise, then sparkled with delight as he chewed.

“This is so good!” he blurted out, unable to stop himself. “Wahh, nii-chan, you’re still amazing at this!”

It was an unfiltered reaction, one that reminded Rin of his younger self, and the realization made him cringe internally.

Sae didn’t say anything in response, but he turned away, a subtle smile tugging at his lips—one Rin couldn’t see.

When Rin finally calmed down and remembered himself, he quickly washed his hands, ready to retreat back to his room.

But before he could leave, Sae’s voice stopped him.

“Where are you going?”

“Huh?” Rin blinked, caught off guard.

“Come eat with me,” Sae said, not even bothering to phrase it as a question.

Rin frowned. Who does he think he is? They weren’t kids anymore. They weren’t even close anymore. But before Rin could argue, Sae cut through his thoughts, grabbing his hand and pressing a plate of takoyaki into it.

“Find a movie you like,” Sae added, already turning back to clean up the kitchen. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

Rin stood there for a moment, conflicted. He could’ve just ignored him, gone back to his room, and left Sae to his weird late-night antics. But... something inside him didn’t want to.

So, against his better judgment, Rin found himself in front of the TV, scrolling through the options. Eventually, he settled on the second part of a horror movie series he’d been watching. Whether Sae had seen the first part or not didn’t really matter—he doubted Sae cared about horror anyway.

A few minutes later, Sae joined him, holding his own plate of takoyaki. He sat beside Rin on the couch, leaving a small but noticeable gap between them.

Rin felt awkward, unsure of how to navigate this unexpected moment. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable exactly, but it wasn’t comfortable either.

It was just... there.

Rin glanced at Sae out of the corner of his eye. His brother seemed completely at ease, calmly eating his takoyaki while keeping his gaze fixed on the TV. Meanwhile, Rin’s thoughts were spinning.

He wanted to say something—anything. Maybe ask why Sae was back, or how long he was planning to stay. But every time he opened his mouth, the words caught in his throat. Sae’s nonchalant demeanor wasn’t helping either. It was as if he didn’t care whether Rin spoke or not, like his presence alone was enough.

Rin felt a pang of frustration. How can he be so calm?

“Do you even like horror movies?” Rin finally muttered, trying to break the silence.

Sae didn’t even glance at him. “They’re fine.”

That was it. No follow-up, no interest in continuing the conversation. Rin frowned and looked back at the screen. He tried again a few minutes later, this time asking, “Have you seen the first part of this?”

“No,” Sae said simply, not even bothering to elaborate.

Rin clenched his jaw, suppressing the urge to snap. Fine. If Sae didn’t want to talk, then Rin wouldn’t either.

He gave up and tried to focus on the movie instead.

The next hour passed in near silence, the only sounds coming from the movie and the occasional clink of chopsticks on plates. By the time the credits rolled, Rin had almost forgotten what it felt like to speak.

Still, the takoyaki was good. Too good, honestly.

When the movie ended, Sae stood up without a word, gathering his plate. Rin hesitated, then quickly got to his feet as well.

“I’ll wash the dishes,” Rin said, surprising himself with the offer.

Sae quirked an eyebrow at him but didn’t argue, handing over his plate. “Suit yourself.”

Rin watched as Sae turned to leave, his footsteps calm and measured. Just before his brother disappeared into the hallway, Rin couldn’t stop himself.

“Thank you, nii-chan,” he whispered, so quietly he wasn’t sure Sae would hear.

But Sae paused, his back still to Rin. After a moment, he glanced over his shoulder, the faintest of smiles tugging at his lips—one that was soft and rare, a smile that was only ever meant for Rin.

“No problem,” Sae said simply before walking away.

Rin stood there for a moment, staring at the empty hallway. That small smile lingered in his mind, warming something deep in his chest that he hadn’t realized was cold.

He let out a breath and turned to the sink, his lips curling into the tiniest smile as he started washing the dishes.

Chapter Text

The next day was even weirder for Rin, as everything he expected turned out completely different.

He had resigned himself to the idea that Sae would already be gone before he woke up, leaving the house in silence and, once again, without a single word. 

That was how Rin experienced it the first time—right after that fateful snowy night that still left a bitter taste in his heart.

Rin went about his morning, sticking to his usual routine. He didn’t bother going downstairs for breakfast since there was no one around to force him to eat anyway. Opening his window, he let the cool air in, began his yoga session, and replayed the anger and hurt he’d buried deep inside, emotions that kept him motivated. 

Afterward, he took a long bath, feeling as though everything had returned to normal—the way his life was before Blue Lock, before Sae came back to say those hurtful things, before Sae decided Rin was no longer necessary.

But as always, expectations weren’t reality.

The sudden knock on his door made Rin jump so hard that he fell off the edge of his bed. Lying stunned on the floor, he heard a voice that instantly made his stomach drop.

“What are you doing, Rin?”

Sae.

The second knock came almost immediately after. “Rin?”

The sound of his brother’s voice finally snapped him out of his shock. Scrambling to his feet, Rin felt a flush of embarrassment rising to his face. Was his brother’s mere presence enough to catch him so off guard? It was humiliating. 

His dignity felt slightly bruised as he composed himself and opened the door.

Trying to look unaffected, he was betrayed by his own face, which settled into an annoyed frown the moment he laid eyes on Sae.

“What do you want?” Rin asked sharply.

“We’re leaving at nine,” Sae replied in his usual nonchalant tone, as though this was the most natural thing in the world. “You’ve got about forty minutes to get ready.”

Huh? Rin blinked. Did he hear that right?

“What do you mean ‘we’ ?” he shot back, his tone teetering on frustration and confusion. Why was Sae still here? Wasn’t he supposed to have left already?

Sae didn’t offer an explanation. He simply turned and made his way down the stairs, leaving Rin to stew in his thoughts. “I’ll wait downstairs,” was all he said.

“What the heck?” Rin muttered, staring at the empty hallway.

He slammed his bedroom door shut and leaned against it, frustration bubbling to the surface. Every part of him wanted to resist whatever Sae had planned. He didn’t want to spend time with him, not after everything.

And yet, deep down, an unspoken part of him—quiet, stubborn, and infuriating—wanted to go. He hated that part of himself.

Without even realizing it, his body moved on its own. With a sigh, Rin began to get dressed.

They were walking toward the bus stop near their hometown. 

Sae hadn’t said a single word since they left the house, which frustrated Rin to no end. Following his brother around without knowing where they were going felt infuriating, but Rin’s pride—and his simmering anger—kept him from asking.

What was Sae planning, anyway? Was he kidnapping him? Selling him to some underground auction?

Rin shook his head, banishing the ridiculous thoughts. He really needed to stop watching those late-night movies. As awkward as things were between them now, there was no way his brother would do something like that to him.

Right?

Sae still cares about me… doesn’t he?

His chest tightened as old memories resurfaced unbidden.

“Don’t make me puke.”

Nii-chan still loves me… right?

“To me, you’re just an eyesore and a pain in the ass, little brother.”

The cruel words replayed in his mind, each one cutting deeper than the last. He clenched his fists. Even after everything, Rin couldn’t help but see Sae as his brother. He couldn’t help but love him.

But those words.

“Piss off, Rin.”
“I don’t need you in my life anymore.”

They echoed louder, blurring with the crisp morning air. Rin felt an ache in his chest, one he couldn’t explain away. Sae’s words had hurt, and though part of Rin understood what Sae meant—that he needed to build his own identity and grow stronger—it didn’t erase the sting.

Some words were harder to forget. Like defective product. That one stuck.

Rin’s mind wandered to his insecurities, the ones Sae knew all too well. Their parents had always called him special, but it never felt like a compliment. 

Was being special drooling unconsciously when he wasn’t paying attention or too focused? Was it being autistic, struggling to grasp what self-preservation really was? If that was special, Rin wasn’t sure he wanted to be.

Maybe what he was now—lukewarm and tepid—was just extra special.

He rolled his eyes at his own thoughts as the bus finally arrived, pulling him back to reality. It felt like an eternity, but he stepped inside and quickly chose a seat by the window.

To his surprise—and irritation—Sae sat down next to him.

Rin’s annoyance bubbled over. “There are other seats. Go sit somewhere else.”

Sae didn’t even look up from his phone. He didn’t move. Didn’t say anything. Just kept scrolling as though Rin’s words were inconsequential.

Frustration flared in Rin, but he swallowed it down, glaring out the window instead. The scenery blurred past him, but his mind drifted elsewhere.

He thought about how far he’d come since Blue Lock. How much he’d grown. How he might even have a new version of himself now—one that was still taking shape.

The ache to play soccer swelled in him. He wanted to kick the ball, have a match, and test this new self against others. Against the idiot sitting beside him.

And against another idiot he hadn’t forgotten.

Then the memory of last night drifted back to Rin—the kitchen, the smell of takoyaki, and the taste lingering on his tongue. It had been nice, despite the awkward silences that hung between them like unfinished sentences.

And then there was that moment.

"I canceled my flight."

That’s what Sae had said.

At the time, Rin hadn’t thought much of it, but now the question gnawed at him. Why would his brother cancel his flight?

Before he could stop himself, the question slipped out, the way it always did when he was with Sae. “Why’d you cancel your flight?”

For a moment, Rin thought he wouldn’t get an answer. Sae kept his attention fixed on his phone, scrolling with the kind of detachment that made Rin’s chest tighten.

But then, to his surprise, Sae put his phone away. Tilting his head slightly, he glanced at Rin and said, “Mom asked me to look after you.” His eyes flicked away, avoiding Rin’s. “Since they’ll be gone, and Mom knew I’d be here.”

Rin frowned, turning to look out the window. The words sank into him like a dull ache. So Sae stayed because Mom told him to? Not because he wanted to?

The thought made his fists clench inside his jacket pockets. It was like proof of everything Sae had called him before—an annoying, useless little brother. He was sixteen now. He didn’t need looking after! He could handle himself just fine.

“Let’s go,” Sae said abruptly.

The bus had stopped, and Rin followed him, his frustration simmering under the surface. Sae led the way into a building Rin didn’t recognize. It was a restaurant, the kind that practically screamed money. 

The sleek exterior, the polished interior—this wasn’t a place an unpaid student would ever set foot in.

But it was the kind of place Sae would take him.

Rin trailed behind as they were seated, opposite each other at a small table. The menu was glossy and elegant, the prices enough to make Rin hesitate. He scanned the options, his eyes catching on one dish 

Ochazuke.

His favorite.

Curious, Rin glanced at the description—and froze. The price was three times what he usually paid at his regular spot. It wasn’t just any ochazuke; it was made with exclusive tea, premium rice, and came with a variety of side dishes and flavors. His mouth watered just reading it.

But then hesitation crept in.

Should he order something so expensive, especially with his brother footing the bill? When they were younger, he wouldn’t have thought twice. Sae had always bought him popsicles with whatever extra money he had.

But things were different now. Rin didn’t want to add to Sae’s image of him as a burden.

“You want ochazuke? It’s still your favorite, right?”

Rin looked up, startled. Sae’s tone was neutral, almost casual, but something about it made Rin feel like a kid again.

“Yeah,” Rin said quietly.

“Then you should try it. It’s good.”

“Okay.”

The words settled between them, smooth and easy, like they hadn’t just had years of tension between them. Rin felt a small flicker of comfort, even if he couldn’t quite grasp the meaning behind Sae’s actions.

The meal was surprisingly calm. They ate in silence, exchanging no more words, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Rin let himself enjoy the flavors, the warmth of the ochazuke filling the spaces where his doubts usually lingered.

After a while, feeling more at ease, Rin finally spoke. “Where are you planning to go, anyway?”

Sae finished a bite, swallowing before he looked up. His voice was steady when he answered.

“We’re going to…”

The owl stared back at Rin with its wide, unblinking eyes. Rin found himself grinning, enjoying the rare moment of calm.

It turned out Sae had two tickets to an owl exhibition. He’d handed one to Rin earlier, saying, “Mom got these for us. Said something about spending time together.”

Rin had only nodded, his interest already stolen by the promise of seeing the owls.

Inside, the exhibition was better than he had imagined. There were all kinds of owls, each unique in size, color, and shape. Rin even had the chance to touch a few. For a brief second, he wished he could take one home—though he knew that would probably count as kidnapping.

He wandered past the exhibits, stopping now and then to marvel at the birds. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Sae. His brother stood quietly by one of the displays, gently ruffling the feathers on an owl’s head.

There was a calmness to Sae in that moment, and it stirred something in Rin.

A memory hit him. 

Sae used to ruffle his hair like that when they were kids. It had always been comforting. But now, with Rin taller than Sae and their relationship strained in ways Rin couldn’t always articulate, the thought of such a gesture felt impossibly distant.

Sadness began creeping in, but Rin shook it off. He focused instead on the owl in front of him—a beautiful bird with white and gray feathers. Its large, dark eyes held an odd sort of loneliness that Rin couldn’t explain. It reminded him of something—of someone.

Like how Sae was here, yet not really here at the same time.

“Rin.”

The sound of his brother’s voice broke through his thoughts. Rin turned.

Sae stood a few feet away, holding up a small owl-shaped doll. With a flick of the stick beneath it, the doll’s wings flapped twice. Sae imitated a high-pitched voice, “Chuw, chuw!”

Rin’s eye twitched, and he had to turn away, covering his mouth to stop himself from bursting into laughter. But it was no use. The absurdity of his brother’s display cracked through his sadness like sunlight through clouds.

“Niichan, hahaha! What are you doing?!” Rin managed between laughs.

“You look stupid—” Rin’s laughter was cut off by a sudden weight on his head.

The owl he’d been watching earlier had landed on him, its feathers brushing against his hair as it made itself comfortable.

This time, it was Sae who laughed, a genuine, carefree sound that caught Rin off guard. Rin was too stunned by the owl to respond at first, but when he heard the click of a camera, he snapped out of it.

“Niichan!” Rin shouted, seeing Sae holding up his phone. “Delete that now!”

“Nope,” Sae said, smirking. “I’m sending it to Mom.”

Flustered, Rin finally managed to coax the owl off his head and set it back onto its perch. Turning back to Sae, he lunged for the phone.

But just as he reached for it, Sae’s hand landed gently on his head.

Rin froze.

Sae ruffled his hair lightly, the motion warm and familiar, like something out of their childhood. Rin felt his chest tighten and his cheeks heat up, a strange mix of nostalgia and relief washing over him.

“There,” Sae said, brushing away a stray feather from Rin’s hair. “You had something in there.”

Rin didn’t move, didn’t even try to snatch the phone again. He could only stand there, stunned, as Sae withdrew his hand.

“Oh,” was all Rin managed to say, the warmth of the touch lingering far longer than it should have.

The phone was forgotten. Instead, a small, involuntary smile crept onto Rin’s face, one he didn’t even try to hide.

As they left the exhibition, the sun had begun to set, casting a soft orange glow across the city. Rin walked a step behind Sae, his mind still replaying the moment in the exhibit—the warmth of Sae’s hand on his head, the genuine sound of his brother’s laugh.

It was rare for them to spend time like this, without the awkward silences or unspoken tensions looming over them. Rin wanted to hold onto it, even if it wouldn’t last.

“Niichan,” Rin called out softly, surprising even himself.

Sae glanced over his shoulder, his face calm but curious.

“Thanks for today,” Rin muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets and looking away. “It was… nice.”

Sae didn’t say anything at first. Then he nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah. It was.”

The silence between them now felt different—less heavy, more comfortable.

As they walked home, Rin caught sight of Sae’s phone screen lighting up. He didn’t need to see what it was to know. The photo of Rin with the owl on his head had already been sent to their mom.

“Seriously, Niichan!” Rin groaned, breaking into a jog to catch up with his brother.

Sae chuckled, slipping the phone into his pocket. “Too late now. She’s probably framing it as we speak.”

“Delete it!”

“Not happening.”

Their banter carried on as they turned the corner, blending into the hum of the evening crowd. For the first time in a while, Rin felt like maybe, just maybe, things between them weren’t as broken as they seemed.

And for now, that was enough.

Chapter Text

Rin loves horror.

Not always—his obsession began the year Sae left for Spain. Left alone, Rin found himself adrift. Nothing seemed to excite him anymore. The loneliness was suffocating, and everything felt dull. That’s when it started.

Horror.

Games, movies, novels—anything that could jolt his heart and make him feel alive. 

It wasn’t just about the scares. It was the rush, the adrenaline, the thrum of his heartbeat that reminded him of the excitement he once felt on the pitch. 

The same high he got from scoring a goal or going head-to-head with a formidable opponent.

Tonight was no different. Rin had just settled into his chair, ready to dive into a horror game he’d been craving ever since his return from Blue Lock. The room was dim, the only light coming from the faint glow of his monitor.

The game was doing its job—his heart pounded as he guided his character through the abandoned house. 

The eerie music in his headphones amplified every creak and shadow. He was focused, his face expressionless, even as his adrenaline spiked. A slight drool trailed from his parted lips, unnoticed in his concentration.

Rin’s fingers danced over the controls, his character creeping toward the next door. The tension was palpable, even the air around him felt heavier. He was so absorbed that he didn’t notice the presence behind him.

He opened the door in the game—
And something touched his mouth.

Rin screamed.

His chair nearly tipped as he flinched back, heart hammering against his ribs. His hands flew to his face, only to find a napkin pressed against his mouth.

“What—” he stammered, blinking rapidly as he whipped his head around.

Standing behind him was Sae, casually holding the napkin he’d just used to wipe Rin’s drool.

“What the hell, Sae?!” Rin snapped, his voice louder than intended.

Sae smirked, the faintest flicker of amusement in his usually impassive expression. “You’re still drooling, huh? Thought you’d outgrown that habit.” He tossed the napkin onto Rin’s desk. “Guess not.”

Rin blinked again, struggling to piece together how Sae had even gotten into his room without him noticing. His headphones were still blasting the tense game music, which felt surreal against the quiet chaos of the moment.

“Since when were you in here?” Rin muttered, turning back to his monitor as if grounding himself in the game would make Sae’s presence less disorienting.

“I don’t know,” Sae said, glancing at the screen. “Long enough to see you drooling over…whatever this is.” He tilted his head, gesturing at the game. “I didn’t know you played games.”

The comment hit a nerve. Rin snapped off his headphones and spun in his chair to face his brother. “Why do you care?” he spat. “Get out of my room!”

Sae didn’t flinch at the outburst. He shrugged, looking unfazed as his gaze wandered back to the screen, now fading to black as the game shut down. “Relax. I was just curious.”

“Well, don’t be,” Rin muttered, crossing his arms and glaring. His pulse was still erratic, though whether it was from the game or his brother’s unexpected intrusion, he wasn’t sure.

Sae smirked again, taking a step back toward the door. “You scream louder than I remember. Maybe you’re the one who should get out more.”

“Shut up,” Rin growled, his face heating.

As Sae turned to leave, he paused in the doorway. “By the way…” he started, not bothering to look back, “I heard about a haunted spot near the river. Thought you might be interested.”

Rin froze, caught between indignation and curiosity. “What are you talking about?”

Sae glanced over his shoulder, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “You’ll see. Midnight. Don’t chicken out.”

And just like that, he was gone, leaving Rin to wonder whether he should be more annoyed—or intrigued.

Now that he was on his way to the spot, Rin couldn’t help but reflect on his brother—specifically, a part of Sae he’d long forgotten.

Sae loved doing the unexpected, especially if it was something that revolved around Rin’s interests. 

It was a habit Rin had never fully understood.

Back when they were kids, Sae had always found ways to channel Rin’s boundless energy. Like the time Rin kept breaking his toys. Sae had noticed, quiet but observant as ever, and somehow convinced their parents to enroll both of them in a martial arts class. "Let off steam the right way," Sae had said back then, as if it was the most obvious solution. 

Rin had reluctantly gone along with it, and to his surprise, it worked. His toy-breaking days eventually lessened, though Rin still wondered if Sae secretly enjoyed showing off his own skills in the process.

And then there was the time Rin discovered his love for fruit juice. Sae, who usually rolled his eyes at anything Rin liked, had gone out of his way to take him to the market. 

Together, they’d picked out fresh fruit and made the juice themselves. Sae hadn’t complained once, even when Rin insisted on trying out every single fruit he could get his hands on. In fact, Sae had approved. “No sugar, no junk,” he’d said, sipping the juice with his usual detached tone. “Healthy’s better.”

That small, unexpected gesture had made Rin strangely happy.

But this? This was a whole different level of extreme.

Actually going to the infamous haunted spot at midnight felt surreal. Rin had known about the place for years—it was practically a legend in their town. Stories about it were whispered at school, written in the local newspaper, and passed around by strangers like urban folklore. 

Supposedly, no one who visited it ever came back the same, and Rin had always brushed it off as exaggerated nonsense.

Yet here he was, on his way there, with Sae of all people.

The idea was thrilling, sure, but it was also weird. Rin glanced at his brother walking beside him, calm and unbothered as usual. 

This wasn’t the kind of thing Sae would do, was it? He was too…practical. Too focused. Rin half-expected him to call the whole thing “lukewarm” or a “waste of time.” And honestly, Rin wouldn’t have been surprised if Sae said exactly that.

Maybe that’s why Rin had been so angry earlier. He’d braced himself for Sae’s disapproval, for the inevitable snide remark about how childish or stupid horror games were. But none of it came. Instead, Sae had shown up, wiped Rin’s face like they were kids again, and dragged him into this bizarre midnight adventure.

The memory of his earlier scream made Rin’s face burn. 

He cringed inwardly, wishing he could bury the shrill sound in the deepest part of his mind. Sae had seen it, heard it, and worst of all, said nothing about it. That silence was almost worse than any teasing could have been.

Rin shoved his hands into his pockets and kicked at a loose rock on the trail. The night air was cool, and the faint outline of the haunted spot loomed ahead, shadowed by the moonlight. His pulse quickened—not out of fear, but from a strange mix of anticipation and disbelief.

“This is so stupid,” Rin muttered under his breath.

Beside him, Sae’s lips twitched in a barely-there smirk. “Then why’d you come?”

Rin scowled. “Because you’re the one who dragged me into this.”

Sae didn’t respond right away. Instead, he looked ahead, his expression unreadable. Then, after a moment, he said, “You screamed louder than I expected. Thought you might want a real scare to make up for it.”

Rin felt his jaw tighten. “You—”

“Relax.” Sae’s tone was almost teasing, though his face remained neutral. “You’re not scared, are you?”

Rin glared at him. “Of course not.”

“Good,” Sae said, quickening his pace toward the dark, eerie structure ahead. “Then try to keep up.”

And just like that, Sae disappeared into the shadows, leaving Rin with no choice but to follow.

They arrived.

It was real. The haunted house near the river—standing like a twisted relic of nightmares, its structure warped and leaning as though it might collapse with a single gust of wind. The walls were cracked, the windows boarded up, and the roof sagged under years of neglect. 

It looked like it had been forgotten by time itself.

Rin stood at the threshold, staring at the imposing house, a wave of unease washing over him. 

He glanced at his brother, Sae, who stood beside him with an unreadable expression, his posture calm as ever.

Rin told himself to stop from clinging to his brother. The last thing he wanted was to seem weak, but a pit had formed in his stomach. This place was exactly like the horror stories he’d read. He knew how quickly things could go wrong, how quickly a simple thrill could escalate into something far more dangerous.

But the horror-lover part of him, the part that had always craved the rush, the unknown, urged him forward.

“It’s stupid,” Rin whispered to himself, clenching his fists. “But it feels…” His breath caught in his throat. “Exciting.”

Sae’s voice broke through his thoughts. “Come on.”

Sae began to push open the door, the old wood creaking in protest. The sound echoed into the still night, and Rin’s heart skipped a beat. As the door opened wider, a cold gust of air rushed out, carrying with it the musty scent of decay.

Rin shivered involuntarily, his skin prickling with goosebumps. But he ignored it, pushing aside the sudden unease as best as he could. He had come this far, after all.

They stepped inside.

Boom.

The door slammed shut behind them, its force sending a shockwave of air through the room. 

Rin’s heart leaped into his throat, and both of them flinched at the noise, the sudden weight of the house settling in. It was darker now, and the silence was suffocating.

“Nii-chan…” Rin’s voice was quieter than usual, slow, uncertain as he turned to his brother.

But Sae? Sae was completely unfazed. 

He simply flicked on the flashlight on his phone, the beam cutting through the thick darkness. Rin hesitated for a moment before he did the same.

The light revealed the interior of the house, and Rin’s stomach twisted. 

The place was a wreck. There were pieces of old, tattered furniture scattered haphazardly across the floor, abandoned and broken. The walls were peeling, the floorboards warped and splintering. The smell of mold and mildew lingered in the air. It was a place long forgotten, left to rot.

But there was something strangely familiar about it.

Rin blinked, his thoughts briefly drifting to the games he’d played, the ones where haunted houses like this were common settings. The eerie atmosphere, the decaying walls, the silence—this was all too familiar. 

The way the floor creaked underfoot, the flickering shadows in the corners. It felt like he was inside one of those games, the ones he loved to play so much.

He couldn’t help but laugh, though it was a nervous sound.

“It’s just like a game…” Rin muttered, his voice trailing off as he glanced around.

Sae didn’t react. He was scanning the space, his flashlight beam moving slowly across the room. The place felt suffocating, oppressive. The air itself seemed thick with tension.

Rin swallowed, trying to shake off the strange sensation crawling up his spine. The excitement from earlier was still there, but it was tangled now with a creeping sense of dread.

“Let’s keep moving,” Sae said, already walking ahead, his steps quiet but firm.

Rin followed, though his legs felt heavier now. Each step echoed in the silence, and every creak of the house seemed louder than the last.

They reached a narrow hallway, the walls cracked and darkened with age. The flashlight’s beam danced along the edges, illuminating broken pictures and remnants of old wallpaper. And at the far end of the hallway…

A door.

It was ajar, and beyond it, the faintest sound of something shifting.

Rin’s breath caught in his throat. “Nii-chan, do you hear that?”

Sae paused, his expression unreadable as he stared at the door. “Yeah,” he said, his voice steady. “Stay close.”

Rin couldn’t help the shiver that ran down his spine. The excitement was still there, pulsing through him, but it was now laced with something darker, something that felt all too real.

It was stupid, dangerous. 

But as he followed his brother toward the door, Rin couldn’t help but feel that, for the first time in a long while, he was truly alive. 

The door creaked as Sae pushed it open just enough to slip through. 

The moment they stepped inside, Rin’s breath hitched. The room was bathed in darkness, save for the faintest hint of moonlight streaming through broken windows. Dust hung thick in the air, swirling in the beam of their flashlights like trapped spirits.

Rin’s heart raced in his chest, the adrenaline rushing back in full force. His fingers tightened around his phone, his breath quickening. 

The room was empty, but there was an unmistakable sense of being watched. Every corner seemed to hold something, a whisper of movement, a shadow that wasn’t quite right.

“See anything?” Rin whispered, his voice barely above a breath.

Sae didn’t respond immediately. 

He was examining the room with the same detached calmness he always had, his eyes flicking over every detail—each cracked floorboard, the shattered remnants of furniture, the faded wallpaper peeling from the walls like the skin of a long-forgotten corpse.

Rin’s gaze moved uneasily to the corners of the room, where the darkness seemed to pulse with a life of its own. There was a strange energy here, something that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. 

He could feel it, the sense of something lurking just beyond the light.

And then, just as his nerves began to unravel, it happened.

A cold gust of wind swept through the room, slamming the door shut behind them with a force that rattled the walls. Rin jumped, his heart leaping into his throat as the sudden pressure of the air shifted, thickening around them.

“Nii-chan…” His voice was shaky, barely audible over the sound of his heartbeat thundering in his ears.

Sae didn’t flinch. Instead, he stepped forward, his flashlight scanning the room in a methodical sweep. “It’s just the wind,” he said, but Rin could hear the edge of something unfamiliar in his voice.

Rin swallowed, trying to steady his breathing. 

He knew Sae had a knack for staying calm, but this felt… different. This place wasn’t just unsettling—it was actively wrong , as though the house itself was alive, watching them with eyes that couldn’t be seen.

“Let’s check the next room,” Sae said, his voice steady as he turned toward the door on the far side of the room.

But Rin didn’t move. 

Something wasn’t right. 

He could hear it now—the faintest sound, a scratching noise, like something moving against the floor, just barely audible. It was coming from behind the walls.

Rin’s blood ran cold. “Did you hear that?”

Sae paused, then turned to face him. For a moment, Rin thought he saw a flicker of something in his brother’s eyes—something sharp and aware, like Sae was sensing it too.

“I heard it,” Sae said, his voice softer now. “We’re not alone.”

Rin’s stomach dropped. 

The thrill, the excitement, the adrenaline—everything that had made him feel alive moments ago—faded into a knot of dread. 

Something in the air was wrong, and his instincts screamed at him to leave, to run far from this place.

But before he could speak, the noise grew louder. The scratching turned into a scraping, a dragging sound, as though something heavy was being dragged across the floor beneath them. 

Rin’s heart raced, his breathing shallow.

“What the hell?” Rin whispered, his eyes darting around in the dark, but there was no movement, no sign of what caused the sound.

Sae raised his flashlight, shining it toward the floor in front of them. The beam illuminated something dark, a streak of… something smeared across the floorboards. It looked like dirt, but it was too thick, too unnatural.

Before Rin could ask, the temperature in the room dropped even further. 

A wave of ice-cold air rushed over him, and the scratching sound intensified. It was as though something was trying to break through the walls—something trapped, struggling to get out.

Sae’s grip on the flashlight tightened. He stepped closer to Rin, his voice low. “Stay close. We’re not leaving yet.”

Rin’s mind raced. 

He wanted to protest, to demand they leave now, but a part of him—the part that had driven him to seek the thrill of horror in the first place—wanted to see this through. He wanted to know what was behind the noise, what lay hidden in the shadows of this accursed house.

But it was becoming harder to breathe, harder to think.

Every part of him screamed to leave, to escape before they were dragged into whatever dark force had taken residence here.

The flashlight flickered, casting strange shadows along the walls. 

And then, from somewhere deep within the house, a loud bang echoed through the halls. The floor beneath their feet trembled as though something massive had fallen—something far too heavy to be human.

Rin’s pulse hammered in his ears. His eyes locked on Sae’s face, where the calm facade was starting to crack, just slightly.

“We need to move,” Rin said, voice barely a whisper, but his brother didn’t respond. He was staring ahead, frozen in place.

“What is it?” Rin’s voice trembled as he followed his brother’s gaze.

At the end of the hallway, just beyond the glow of their flashlights, there was a figure. 

A shadow, tall and looming, its shape flickering like smoke. It moved, but not like a person. It shifted , rippling in the darkness, as though it was barely holding onto its form.

Rin’s breath caught in his throat. His body froze.

“Go!” Sae finally snapped, his voice urgent, pulling Rin out of his paralysis. He grabbed Rin’s wrist and yanked him forward.

But it was too late. The figure was moving toward them, faster now, its edges growing sharper, more defined. The cold air thickened as the shadows stretched out toward them, and the walls seemed to close in.

Rin’s heart was racing again, but this time, it was out of fear, not thrill.

Rin’s pulse quickened, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts. 

The figure was drawing closer, its silhouette stretching and twisting in the dark, its movements unnatural. 

Sae pulled Rin by the wrist, dragging him down the hallway toward the back door, but the shadows were closing in, following their every step.

“Faster!” Sae hissed, his voice now filled with urgency. His grip on Rin tightened, but Rin could feel the chill of fear seeping through him. The air had grown thick, oppressive, like it was choking them.

Rin’s eyes darted back at the figure, and for a split second, it seemed to split in two, two dark, shifting forms now blocking their path. Rin’s heart lurched. 

They couldn’t outrun it—not like this.

“Nii-cha—!” Rin cried, panic creeping into his voice as he turned to his brother for help.

But Sae wasn’t there.

The grip on Rin’s wrist vanished. He turned just in time to see Sae vanish into the darkness, swallowed by the shadows, without a sound. Rin’s breath caught in his throat, his chest tightening as he spun around in a frantic search.

“Nii-chan!” Rin shouted, his voice breaking. There was no answer.

The shadows seemed to ripple and laugh in the silence, and the temperature dropped another few degrees. 

The figure, or figures, were getting closer, their forms blurring in and out like smoke in the wind. 

The floor beneath Rin’s feet began to tremble. 

He had to run. 

He had to escape.

Without thinking, Rin bolted forward, his heart pounding in his ears. His legs carried him faster than he’d ever run, driven by pure fear. The back door was ahead, but the shadows were closing in, reaching for him with hands that weren't hands at all. 

He could feel them, the icy tendrils brushing against the back of his neck, like fingers grazing the skin. His body shook with terror, but he pushed on.

The door was right there.

Rin yanked on the handle, but it wouldn’t budge. 

The shadows seemed to reach out from all sides, curling around the doorframe, tightening their grip on the house itself. His breath came in shallow gasps, but he refused to give up. 

With a forceful shove, he slammed his shoulder into the door, pushing with all his might.

The cold air hit him as he stepped outside, and for a moment, it felt like the weight of the darkness lifted. But when he glanced around, his heart skipped a beat.

Sae was already standing outside.

Rin froze, his breath coming out in harsh gasps. Sae stood there, arms crossed, his face set in a deep frown. The night seemed to stretch out in the awkward silence between them.

“Rin,” Sae snapped, voice sharp. “What the hell? Where’d you go? Why did you disappear like that?”

Rin blinked, his mind still scrambled. “Nii-chan, I—” He tried to catch his breath but couldn't find the words. His chest ached with the sprint, and his thoughts raced. “What do you mean? I—”

“I didn’t go in,” Sae interrupted, irritation clear in his voice. “You were the one who went in alone. I never even stepped foot inside the house. You went in there by yourself, and then suddenly you disappeared. What the hell was that?”

Rin’s eyes widened. “Wait, you... didn’t go in?”

Sae nodded, his expression a mixture of confusion and frustration. “No. I was right outside, watching you. When you ran in, I thought you were just messing around, but then you... vanished. I was about to follow you in, but then the door slammed shut on its own.”

Rin’s mind spun. 

He hadn’t noticed. 

He’d been so focused on escaping the darkness that he hadn’t realized Sae wasn’t with him. It all came rushing back—the chill, the shadows, the figure that had haunted him. It had all felt so real, so immediate. 

But now, standing outside, Sae's calm presence was a stark contrast to the terror Rin had just felt.

"But you just– I– huh?" Rin asked, his voice shaky.

Sae’s expression softened, though his irritation still lingered. “I thought you were just being dramatic. It’s not like anything’s actually happening here.”

Rin ran a hand through his hair, his mind still processing what had just happened. 

He couldn’t shake the feeling that something had been wrong—more than wrong, something unnatural. But Sae was standing there, as if nothing had happened, as if it was all just some big joke.

"I... I thought you disappeared," Rin muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

Sae raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by the seriousness in Rin’s voice. “What do you mean? I never went in. I was watching from outside. You really got scared, huh?”

Rin didn’t answer. Instead, he glanced back at the house behind him. 

It loomed, dark and empty now, but still heavy with a lingering presence. His skin crawled, and a chill shot down his spine.

"I don’t know what just happened," Rin finally admitted. "You were in there with me! and I swear something was in there."

Sae let out a deep breath, looking up at the house one last time. “Maybe it’s just your mind playing tricks on you.”

But Rin couldn't shake the feeling. Something had been wrong. 

And Sae wasn’t there when he needed him most. He didn’t want to say it out loud, but that thought gnawed at him—the idea that maybe Sae was somehow involved in what happened.

Sae sighed, turning toward the road ahead. "Let's just get out of here. It's late, and I’m done with this creepy nonsense."

Without another word, Rin followed his brother, but the unease still clung to him. 

The walk back home felt like a blur—his feet moving, but his mind trapped in the memory of the house. They had made it out, no,, he had but something had stayed behind.

When they finally reached home, the quiet of the house was almost suffocating. 

It didn’t feel like the same place they had left earlier. The shadows seemed to move on their own, and Rin couldn’t shake the strange feeling that the house was somehow different.

He sat down on the couch, the events of the night replaying in his mind. 

Sae went to the kitchen, probably trying to brush off everything that had happened. 

But Rin couldn't. He couldn’t forget what he’d felt, what he’d seen—or thought he’d seen.

"Nii-chan," Rin called softly, not looking at him. "Do you think it was real?"

Sae paused, then shook his head. "Who knows? But we’re home now. That’s what matters."

Rin nodded, but the doubt gnawed at him. No, that wasn’t all that mattered. Something was still wrong, and he didn’t know if he could shake it.

Rin tossed and turned in his bed, the sheets tangled around him like a web. 

His mind wouldn’t quiet, the images of the haunted house, the shadows, and the eerie feeling that lingered, all swirling in his head. He could hear the soft creaks of the house in the night, and every whisper of the wind felt like it carried something just out of reach. 

He tried to shut his eyes again, willing himself to sleep, but the feeling of unease gnawed at him.

Finally, after what felt like hours of lying awake, Rin couldn't take it anymore. 

He swung his legs off the side of the bed, the cold wooden floor cool against his feet. Without thinking, he grabbed his blanket and walked to the door, his mind already made up.

He reached Sae's room and stood there for a moment, his hand hovering over the doorknob. 

He felt ridiculous. He was a grown man now, wasn’t he? Yet here he was, seeking comfort in the same way he had when he was a kid. 

But the feeling in his chest, the loneliness mixed with a strange sense of fear, made him crave it—crave the comfort that only Sae seemed able to provide.

Rin gently knocked on the door, almost hesitant, but before he could second-guess himself, Sae’s voice called out from inside.

"Come in."

Rin pushed the door open, the dim light from the night lamp casting a warm glow over Sae’s room. 

His brother was lying on his back in bed, staring up at the ceiling with a thoughtful look on his face. He didn’t even seem surprised to see Rin standing there, though Rin didn’t know why he expected anything different.

“What’s up?” Sae asked casually, sitting up slightly and propping himself up on his elbows.

Rin stood there for a moment, the weight of his emotions settling on his shoulders. 

He didn’t say anything right away, just stepped inside and pulled the blanket around himself a little tighter. His mind was still racing, but now it felt safer here, with Sae. 

Somehow, he knew that everything would feel more manageable.

“I... I can’t sleep,” Rin admitted quietly, feeling a bit foolish.

Sae raised an eyebrow but said nothing, his expression softening. “You’re still thinking about it, aren’t you?”

Rin didn’t answer, but the silence between them said enough. 

He could feel Sae’s gaze on him, steady and understanding. It was like his brother always knew when he was struggling, even without saying a word.

With a sigh, Sae patted the spot next to him. “Come on, just lie down. You’ll feel better.”

Rin hesitated for a moment, but his exhaustion was winning out. 

He walked over to the bed and climbed in beside Sae, the mattress sinking under his weight. Sae pulled the covers up, and for a moment, everything felt still.

Rin had always found comfort in Sae's presence—his steady warmth, the quiet way he moved when things got too intense. They had shared so many nights like this, when Rin had nightmares, or when the world outside felt too overwhelming. 

Nii-chan was always there to offer reassurance, even when words weren’t enough.

Sae turned onto his side, facing Rin. “You want me to tell you a story? Something to help you sleep?”

Rin didn’t answer at first, but he could feel his heartbeat slow as he let himself relax under the covers. Sae’s presence was grounding, calming. 

It reminded him of simpler times, before everything had gotten so complicated.

“You always say you can’t sleep unless I do this,” Sae muttered with a small smile, his voice quiet. “I swear, you’re like a little kid sometimes.”

Rin huffed, but it was more out of familiarity than annoyance. 

“Shut up,” he mumbled, though there was a trace of fondness in his voice. He had missed this. He had missed Sae. “Just… stay.”

Sae nodded, his hand reaching over to ruffle Rin's hair. It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes—of their history, their bond. “I’m not going anywhere,” Sae said softly.

And with that, Rin felt his tension begin to melt away. 

As Sae’s hand lingered on his head, his breathing slowing, Rin felt a warmth that had nothing to do with the covers. 

He felt safe. 

For the first time in hours, he felt like he could finally let go.

He turned to face the wall, closing his eyes, the steady rhythm of Sae’s breathing a lullaby in the silence of the room. 

It didn’t take long before Rin finally drifted off to sleep, the weight of the night lifting, replaced by the quiet peace of his brother’s presence beside him.

And in that moment, nothing else mattered.

Chapter Text

Rin found himself waking up on the floor. Blinking away his drowsiness, he sat up and turned to the bed, where Sae was still sprawled out, completely unbothered.

Ah. Right. Another habit he’d forgotten.

Itoshi Sae was a wild sleeper.

Back then, Rin had learned to adjust—he didn’t even wake up abruptly anymore when Sae’s foot inevitably sent him tumbling off the bed. It had always been like this.

With a sigh, Rin pushed himself up, deciding not to bother with it. He might as well just head back to his own room and start his usual morning routine.

After finishing his morning routine, Rin flopped onto his bed, unsure of what to do. He let his mind wander, thinking back on the past two days with Sae.

Eating takoyaki together. Visiting the owl exhibition. Even sharing a double-stick popsicle on the way home. And the unforgotten haunted house. Well, let's that be forgotten.

It had been fun—more than he expected. And it left a strange warmth in his chest.

An idea sparked.

Sitting up, Rin made his way to the kitchen, checking the ingredients they had. His instincts kicked in, and he mentally noted what he needed. If he wanted to repay Sae, there was only one thing that came to mind.

French fries.

It almost made him feel like a kid again. Back then, he never knew how to thank Sae, so he cooked for him instead. No matter how terrible the result, Sae always ate it. So Rin had no doubt his brother wouldn't refuse now.

Then again, things were different. Four years apart changed a lot.

And technically, Sae hated fries. He had banned them from his life. But Rin knew better—French fries were actually Nii-chan’s favorite.

So he could at least try.

Grabbing a few potatoes from the rack, Rin found everything he needed already stocked in the kitchen. Lucky.

With that, he got to work, peeling the potatoes as he hummed to himself.

After washing the potatoes, Rin let them rest on the cutting board. The first step was to cut them.

Sure, he could’ve just bought frozen fries, but that wasn’t the point. He needed to make this himself. Besides, he doubted Sae would even touch store-bought ones.

Carefully, he sliced the potatoes into even sticks, collecting them in a medium bowl. He grabbed the salt and sprinkled a little before using his hands to spread it evenly.

“Not too much salt,” he muttered to himself. He knew Sae was strict about diet and health.

With the potatoes prepped, Rin thought about the next step. The obvious choice was to deep-fry them, but something told him he shouldn’t.

His eyes wandered around the kitchen—until they landed on the oven.

That could work.

Grabbing a tray, he lined it with baking paper and neatly arranged the potato sticks, making sure they weren’t too close together. Even cooking was important. Once satisfied, he lightly sprayed oil over them, ensuring they wouldn’t dry out.

After double-checking everything, Rin placed the tray in the oven, adjusting the temperature and timer. He wasn’t entirely sure about the settings—he’d never made fries this way before. It felt almost too healthy, and definitely more effort than necessary.

But if it was for Nii-chan?

A different kind of motivation stirred in him.

Rin smiled slightly, watching the warm orange glow of the oven light.

As the fries baked, Rin leaned against the counter, arms crossed. Now that the prep was done, all he could do was wait.

The kitchen was quiet, save for the faint hum of the oven. Rin glanced at the clock. It was still early—Sae probably wouldn’t come down yet. That was fine. He had time.

A faint scent of roasting potatoes filled the air, making his stomach grumble a little. It reminded him of when he was a kid, standing on a stool, trying to cook something for Sae. Back then, his hands were too small to hold the knife properly, and his cooking often turned into a disaster. But Sae always ate it anyway.

Would he still do that now?

Rin exhaled sharply and shook his head. It’s not that deep.

The timer beeped, snapping him out of his thoughts. He quickly grabbed an oven mitt, opened the door, and pulled out the tray. A wave of warmth hit his face as he inspected the fries. They looked… decent? Maybe a little too golden, but they weren’t burnt, so that was a win.

He grabbed a piece, blowing on it before taking a bite.

Crispy on the outside, soft on the inside. Not bad.

Nodding to himself, Rin placed the tray on the counter to cool. Now, all that was left was to see if Sae would actually eat them.

If he refuses, I’ll just force him, Rin thought, crossing his arms.

Now, the only problem was waiting for his brother. 

But then as the fries smell vaporized in the air, something clicked inside of Rin’s mind. 

Rin stood frozen in front of the counter, his hands gripping the two plates tighter than necessary. The warmth of the freshly baked fries seeped into his fingertips, yet all he could focus on was the cold weight settling in his chest.

Does Nii-chan really not need me anymore?

The thought had been lurking in his mind as he prepared something as simple as fries, it hit him harder than before.

Sae’s words on that snowy night echoed in his head. Sharp. Final. Like a door slamming shut between them..

"I don't need you in my life anymore."

That was what Sae had actually said. Not just some distant push away—he had shut the door completely. No hesitation, no room for doubt. It wasn’t years ago either. Just last year. Just one damn year. And yet, here they were.

Why?

If Sae had meant those words, then why did he come back? Why did he still let Rin stay close? Why did he spend time with him, eating takoyaki, watching owls, sharing a stupid double-stick popsicle like they were kids again?

What was Rin supposed to believe? The words that still ached like an open wound, or the quiet warmth of these past two days?

His thoughts spiraled, looping endlessly between what he knew and what he wanted to believe. The truth was, Sae’s actions contradicted everything he had said back then. If he really didn’t need Rin, he wouldn’t have—

He wouldn’t have let Rin reach for him again.

And yet… was it just temporary? A momentary kindness before pushing him away again?

The fries on the plate felt heavier now. The warmth against his skin no longer comforting but suffocating.

Did he even have the right to do this? To make something for his brother, to want to take care of him like he used to?

What if Sae rejected it? What if he looked at the plate and pushed it away, confirming what Rin feared most?

His throat tightened. His grip on the plate trembled.

Maybe… maybe he should just throw them away.

Before Rin could decide what to do, footsteps echoed down the hall.

Too late.

Sae stepped into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes, his hair still a mess from sleep. He didn’t look fully awake yet, but his sharp gaze immediately landed on Rin.

Rin froze, still clutching the plate of fries like he had been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to. His heartbeat jumped.

Sae blinked at him. Then, his eyes flicked to the oven, the lingering scent of warm potatoes filling the air.

“…What are you doing?” Sae’s voice was hoarse from sleep.

Rin stiffened. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t even know what he wanted to say.

And before he could think of an excuse, Sae took a step closer.

Rin gripped the plate tighter, his fingers pressing into the ceramic as if that would steady him. He could just say nothing—brush it off, pretend this wasn’t for Sae. But his brother’s gaze had already landed on the fries, then back to him, sharp as ever.

Rin swallowed. Why do you always notice everything?

"You made fries—"

"Here, it's yours!" Rin cut Sae off, pushing the plate onto the counter in front of his brother.

Sae blinked at the fries, then glanced at Rin with a brief frown—one that disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. "You know I hate fries."

Rin avoided his gaze, his voice quieter now. "I made it for you."

"No, thanks." Sae replied flatly.

Rin’s shoulders slumped. He had expected this, but hearing it still stung. And by the way Sae glanced at him, his disappointment must have been obvious.

Sae sighed, his eyes lingering on the fries. "Why’d you make this? You could’ve made something else."

After a moment of silence, Rin finally answered, still avoiding Sae's gaze. "...Because it’s your favorite."

Neither of them spoke.

Rin hesitated, then continued, "I know you say you don’t like it, but I also know it used to be your favorite. You just swore off eating it because it’s unhealthy."

"It’s deadly," Sae corrected sharply.

Rin knew that tone well. He still remembered when Sae explained to him as a kid how fries were practically poison—how they were bad for the heart, the arteries, everything. But before that, Sae had openly admitted that fries were his favorite. The sudden switch had always confused Rin.

And yet, the way Sae kept looking at the plate, the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed—Rin knew he still liked them. His principles were just too rigid.

Rin wondered when was the last time Sae had let himself eat fries. The last time Rin could remember was the day before Sae left for Spain—a small celebration before their lives changed forever. But had he really gone four whole years without eating fries?

If it’s Nii-chan, then it’s not impossible…

"Just eat it. I made it myself," Rin said, this time with more confidence.

Sae actually looked hesitant, frowning like he was contemplating a life-or-death decision. "It’s not good for your health."

"So is takoyaki. What’s the difference?" Rin countered.

That made Sae pause.

Rin narrowed his eyes. Was there some deeper reason for his brother’s refusal? Some kind of trauma attached to fries? He wasn’t sure Sae would ever tell him. But right now, his priority was just to get Sae to eat them.

Sae clicked his tongue, arms crossing as he stared at the fries like they were some kind of enemy. "Takoyaki is different. It's—" He paused, frown deepening. "Not deep-fried trash."

Rin rolled his eyes. "I baked these."

Sae blinked. His expression shifted, barely noticeable, but Rin caught it—the slightest crack in his resistance.

“…You baked them?”

Rin crossed his arms. “Yeah. No deep-fried trash. Just potatoes, salt, and a bit of oil. Not deadly.”

Sae sighed, rubbing his temple like this was the most exhausting conversation of his life. Then, after a long pause, he reached out, picked up a fry, and inspected it. He looked at Rin again, almost like he was waiting for him to say something.

Rin stared back, silent.

With another sigh, Sae finally took a bite.

Rin tensed.

Sae chewed, slow and thoughtful. Then he swallowed. Then, without a word, he grabbed another.

Rin’s breath hitched. He looked away, pretending not to care, but his grip on his sleeves tightened.

“Not bad,” Sae muttered, picking up another fry. “Would’ve been better with more salt.”

Rin scoffed, some of the tension breaking. “Thought you were against unhealthy food.”

Sae shot him a look. “I am.”

And yet, he was still eating.

Rin bit his lip, trying to suppress the way his chest felt oddly warm. He wouldn't say it out loud, but—maybe, just maybe, this was enough.

Then Sae stopped mid-chew, as if the words were stuck in his throat. He placed the fry back on the plate, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before staring at Rin, his eyes unusually serious.

Rin raised an eyebrow, not sure whether to be worried or annoyed. "What? What's the matter now? You don’t like it?"

His brother paused, as if deciding how much to tell. Then, his voice dropped lower, almost as if he didn’t want anyone else to hear. "It actually... goes back to when we were kids."

Leaned in a little, curious despite himself. "What are you talking about?"

Sae’s gaze flickered away for a second, and when he spoke again, it was with the kind of conviction Rin hadn’t expected. "When I was younger, I saw a documentary about potatoes. They said that if you eat too many fries, your body starts to change. Like, you get addicted to them. They even said that if you eat fries too often, your body will start to crave them nonstop."

He blinked, unsure whether to laugh or be confused. "And you believed that?"

The older Itoshi nodded, dead serious. "Yeah, it was on TV. It was all about how fries have this chemical that makes you think you need them. It’s like—" He struggled for words, looking almost embarrassed, "—it’s like fries... take over your brain. They make you do things you wouldn’t normally do. Like, I don’t know, lose control ."

Rin stared at him, struggling not to burst out laughing. "You think fries will take over your brain?"

Crossing his arms, Sae now glaring at Rin like he was the one who was ridiculous. "I know it sounds stupid, but that documentary convinced me . Ever since then, I just stayed away from them. I wasn’t going to let potatoes rule my life."

Rin’s shoulders shook with suppressed laughter. He couldn’t believe it. This was the real reason Sae hated fries? Not because of health, but because of some weird, old documentary?

Sae frowned, looking like he’d just admitted a deep, dark secret. "What? It was serious."

Rin smirked, biting his lip. "You seriously think that eating fries will turn you into a potato-addicted zombie?"

Sae looked away, clearly uncomfortable. "Shut up, okay? You’re not supposed to laugh at me. I’m trying to be responsible here."

Rin just shook his head, now fully grinning. "I can’t believe you fell for that."

But then, just as quickly as the laughter came, Rin’s expression softened. He had to admit—he kind of liked that Sae was still, in his own way, holding onto something silly like this. It made Sae seem... human.

“Honestly,” Rin said after a pause, his voice quiet, “I think you just like fries too much to admit it.”

Sae’s face flushed, but he didn’t respond, choosing instead to grab another fry and chew it slowly, almost too slowly for someone who didn’t want to admit it.

Rin grinned again, watching his brother carefully, but there was no mistake in the way Sae’s eyes lingered on the fries. He wasn’t fooling anyone.

"You're not fooling anyone, nii-chan," Rin said, the teasing edge back in his voice. "You still love them."

Sae didn't say anything, but Rin swore, just for a second, he saw the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his brother's lips.

Chapter Text

The fries weren’t bad. In fact, Rin could admit he’d done a pretty good job.

The day carried on as usual—until Rin found himself aimlessly scrolling through his phone, only to pause at a trailer ad for the newest thriller movie, Smile.

He licked his dry lips, clicking on the details. The movie had just been released a week ago. He had plenty of free time, so maybe a late-night showing wouldn’t be a bad idea. Fewer people, less noise—just the way he liked it.

But then, he remembered him.

His brother.

Back when Sae was in Spain, Rin had filled his days with football, training from morning until night, barely leaving room for anything else. He never had much time to indulge in new movies, even though he loved the immersive feeling of a dark theater, the giant screen, and the surround sound that made every moment feel real. So, he’d found a solution—sneaking off to a late-night movie after training, when exhaustion dulled everything else, and all he wanted was to disappear into another world for a while.

Of course, it wasn’t an everyday thing. Rin could count the times he’d done it—less than ten. Nine, maybe. After all, he was still a teenager, no matter how strict his schedule was, and even he needed some kind of entertainment.

No matter how tired he was after school, training, and everything in between, he’d let himself watch those movies regardless. Because, in some way, it had become his escape—a quiet sanctuary from the loneliness that followed him throughout the day.

And the cinema just felt different. Watching movies under a warm blanket in his room wasn’t the same.

The only catch? He only ever did this when his parents weren’t home.

He knew well enough that if his mom found out, she’d scold him for being reckless. And if Dad found out? He’d probably be grounded for the rest of his life.

So, Rin had always been careful, making sure to plan everything perfectly.

Now, here in the present, the conditions were almost the same.

Except for one thing.

Sae was here.

And that threw a wrench into his usual routine.

Should he just continue his little habit like always? Try sneaking out at 10 p.m. and hope Sae wouldn’t notice?

Or… should he ask him to go along?

The thought made Rin pause.

Sae had chosen to spend time with him before—maybe it was Rin’s turn to return the favor. It wouldn’t be the worst idea.

But there was a risk.

Sae might forbid him from going, considering he was still technically underage. Going out late at night and coming home past midnight didn’t exactly sound responsible. And worse—if Sae really wanted to be an older brother about it, he could report it straight to Mom.

Rin shuddered at the thought. He was not looking forward to being nagged to death.

He sighed, slumping back against the couch. " But I really want to watch it… "

Maybe he did miss this. And now that he was on break, with two weeks of freedom, it felt like the perfect time to bring back his little tradition.

The clock read 5:10 p.m. Plenty of time to decide.

But one thing was certain—

One way or another, he was going to the cinema tonight.

Rin had made up his mind.

After rolling around on his bed, pacing his room non-stop, taking a shower, and even screaming into his pillow for mental support—he had finally come to a decision.

He was going to ask Sae to go with him.

Because, despite everything, he still wanted to do things with his nii-chan.

It was already past 7 p.m. He couldn’t waste any more time.

Descending the stairs, he spotted his brother sitting on the couch, watching a football match. A recording Rin had saved. Normally, he would have cared, but right now, his priorities were elsewhere.

He stopped behind the couch, hesitating.

Should I really ask?

His brows furrowed slightly. Doubt crept in again— for the hundredth time in the past two hours.

Maybe I should just sneak out? Surely Sae wouldn’t care.

But the thought made his chest ache a little.

He shook his head and took a step forward.

Now he was actually nervous, which was ridiculous. It was just a late-night movie. Why was this so hard?

His heart pounded as he parted his lips, finally mustering the courage to speak—

Only to close them again. Hesitating.

He had never felt this pathetic before.

There was a time when asking Sae for anything had been effortless. When they were younger, Rin never had to think twice—he knew his brother cared for him, knew Sae wouldn’t do anything to hurt him.

And back then, Sae would usually go along with whatever Rin wanted.

But now?

His fingers curled slightly. They weren’t the same anymore.

A sad frown tugged at his lips.

And then—

“How long are you going to stand there?”

Sae’s voice cut through the silence.

The voice spooked him, but Rin barely flinched as he saw his brother still had his eyes glued to the match, not even bothering to look at him. But that was okay, typical nii-chan.

Still, Rin needed a moment to compose himself so he wouldn’t stutter. “Nii-chan…” He tried his best to sound normal, but to his ears, he sounded almost pleading. That was so stupid, it made him want to tear his hair out.

But Sae still didn’t bat an eye, and somehow, that made him regain some of his confidence. “Do you want to come with me?”

“Huh?” This time, Sae finally turned around, an eyebrow raised.

Rin straightened his back and clenched his fists hard. He needed to make this sound as normal as possible. 

“There’s a new movie that just came out. I want to watch it tonight. Do you want to come with me?” He said it all in one breath, and it felt like he was still holding it, judging by the tightness in his chest.

Sae didn’t say anything and let his eyes land back on the match. Rin let out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. 

He couldn’t deny that hurt. 

Maybe Sae really didn’t care what he wanted to do, and it was a mistake to ask in the first place. 

He turned around, regretting everything. He should have just sneaked out and acted like nothing happened.

“What movie?”

Sae’s voice stopped him mid-step, and he turned back toward his brother. A sudden courage ran through his blood, and before he could second-guess himself, Rin took out his phone and showed it to Sae.

"Smile." Rin couldn't hide his excitement, and for a brief moment, he actually did smile as he said the title.

Sae took the phone from him, scrolling through the summary of the movie. Rin decided to take a seat beside his brother, waiting for his response. He noticed a slight frown appear on Sae’s face, but it disappeared just as quickly before he handed the phone back.

"It's a thriller?"

"Yes."

Sae seemed to be thinking it through, and Rin, wide-eyed, waited impatiently. Then his brother let out a long sigh—one that Rin recognized immediately. That was the sigh Sae always made when he was about to give in, just like when Rin used to ask him for piggyback rides, new ice pop flavors, or late-night training. No matter how much Sae pretended to be indifferent, he always sighed like this before agreeing.

"Okay," just as expected. "When’s the movie?"

"Tonight. Eleven."

That answer made Sae frown, a rare sight, though not so rare if you had lived with Itoshi Sae since birth. Outsiders might think he was always composed, but Rin had seen more of his expressions than anyone else.

"Late night? Why not just tomorrow?" Sae asked, eyes drifting back to the TV screen.

Rin chewed his bottom lip, scrambling for an excuse, but before he could say anything, his brother spoke again.

"Fine."

For a moment, Rin thought he misheard. Then relief washed over him, and he let out a silent sigh. He nodded quickly, standing up. "We'll be out at ten," he said before heading back to his bedroom.

They walked to the theater since it wasn’t far from home—just a twenty-minute distance. They had enough time to buy tickets and settle in before the movie started.

For lack of a better word, Rin was excited. Actually excited. It had been a while since he indulged in one of his little hobbies, and this time, his brother was with him. The thought alone gave him a sense of warmth he couldn't quite put into words.

But then, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed something. Sae looked… hesitant? His usual neutral expression was still there, but Rin caught the slightest furrow of his brows—so subtle that only someone who paid close attention would notice.

Rin wanted to ask but didn’t have the courage. There was always a chance he’d say the wrong thing and ruin the whole night, turning this into another fight. That was the last thing he wanted.

At the same time, he couldn't shake the uneasy feeling creeping up his spine. Sae looked forced. Like he wasn’t here because he wanted to be, but because he was just going along with whatever Rin wanted.

The thought made Rin feel both warm and irritated. He hated the idea that Sae was only doing this out of pity.

He shook his head and stepped ahead into the lobby, pushing the feeling aside. They were already here—there was no turning back now.

They were finally seated, and as the movie rolled, Rin couldn't help but notice how uncomfortable Sae looked. But the film demanded his attention more, and before he knew it, time passed without him paying much mind to his brother.

The movie was decent—a bit slow at the start, but it picked up quickly. It had its moments, and overall, Rin found it satisfying.

As they made their way outside, Sae still hadn't said a word. It nagged at Rin a little, but he brushed it off. Maybe his brother was just tired, not used to staying up late for a movie night like this. It wasn’t that big of a deal—until Rin actually saw his face.

"Nii-chan?"

Sae looked pale, his skin a shade lighter than usual, and there was the faintest tremble in his arms. Rin barely had time to process it before his brother suddenly turned and rushed to the nearest trash bin.

And threw up.

"Nii-chan!?"

Rin hurried to his brother’s side, rubbing his back in slow, comforting motions. His heart pounded with worry. Sae had been fine just hours ago—was he sick?

But then, as Sae finished and crouched down against the wall, everything clicked.

The hesitant looks. The discomfort. The tense energy that Rin had been trying to ignore.

And the blood. The gore. The brutal scenes from the movie they had just watched.

Rin's stomach dropped.

"Shit…"

How could he forget? How could he forget Sae’s phobia of blood?

Rin stood frozen for a moment, guilt washing over him in waves. He had been so excited about tonight, so focused on dragging Sae along, that he hadn’t even considered this. It was his fault. He should’ve realized.

Sae let out a shaky breath, still leaning against the wall, eyes closed. His posture was stiff, and Rin could see the tension in his jaw.

“…Umm, nii-chan?”

"Just shut up and get me a drink," Sae said, sharp but not biting, his voice lacking its usual strength. His pale face and the way he crouched down made it clear—he wasn’t in the mood for conversation.

Rin flinched but nodded quickly. "Okay, umm, just—just stay here."

Sae rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything.

Rin turned and rushed toward the nearest vending machine, nearly tripping over his own feet. His hands shook as he fumbled for some coins, cursing under his breath when they almost slipped from his grasp. He should’ve been more careful. He should’ve known.

By the time he made it back, Sae was in the same position, his expression unreadable. Rin hesitated before handing him the bottle. "Here."

Sae took it without a word, twisting off the cap and taking slow, measured sips. His breathing evened out little by little.

Rin sat down next to him, hugging his knees to his chest. He wanted to say something—to apologize, maybe—but the words stuck in his throat.

Sae finally spoke, voice quieter this time. "You really didn’t think this through, huh?"

He winced. "…Yeah. My bad."

Sae exhaled through his nose, shaking his head before taking another sip. "Idiot."

Rin couldn’t argue with that.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. But... maybe this wasn’t totally his fault.

Back when they were little, Rin had always been the one getting hurt—scraped knees, bruised arms, sometimes even deeper cuts from falling too hard during practice. And Sae had always been there, the first to patch him up, the one who cleaned his wounds with steady hands. 

Back then, blood had never seemed to bother him.

But there was a limit. 

Rin remembered the day they had witnessed an accident on their way back from a match. A car crash. A pool of blood staining the pavement. And Sae—he had gone pale, his breaths turning shallow and quick. Rin had never seen him like that before, had no idea what to do at the time.

It wasn’t until later that he found out—Sae had a phobia of blood. Not the small cuts and bruises, but the overwhelming, stomach-churning sight of too much of it. Rin had just… forgotten. 

Because there was never another moment like that, never another time where they were forced to face that kind of scene.

But now, looking at his brother’s face, he could see that Sae was getting better. The color was returning to his skin, his breathing had steadied.

"You should have just said you didn’t want to watch it…" Rin muttered, glancing away.

Sae didn’t respond right away. Instead, he exhaled, then—without a word—stood up, finishing the last of the water in one go.

Rin watched as Sae wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his usual composed expression slipping back into place, like he hadn’t just been sick a few minutes ago. 

It was frustrating. Typical Sae, always acting like nothing ever got to him.

Still, Rin couldn’t just let it go. “Seriously, Nii-chan, why didn’t you say anything?” His voice came out sharper than he intended, but he didn’t care.

Sae shot him a look, then clicked his tongue. “Tch. Would you have listened?”

Rin opened his mouth, ready to argue, but hesitated. 

Because, yeah… maybe he wouldn’t have. If Sae had said no from the start, Rin would’ve just pestered him until he gave in. That’s how it always went. But this… this was different.

“That’s not the point,” Rin grumbled, looking away. “You could’ve just said you don’t do gore.”

Sae scoffed, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Figured I’d be fine. Guess not.”

That irritated Rin even more. How could he just brush it off like that? “You look like you almost passed out.”

“I didn’t.”

“You threw up.”

Sae rolled his eyes. “I’m fine now.”

Rin clenched his jaw, annoyed beyond words. But what was he supposed to do? Drag his brother to therapy? Scold him like a kid? Sae wouldn’t listen to either.

Instead, he exhaled through his nose, trying to shake off his irritation. “…I’m walking you home.”

Sae raised a brow but didn’t argue. Maybe he was still feeling lightheaded, or maybe—just maybe—he knew Rin wasn’t going to back down. Either way, they started walking, the cold night air filling the silence between them.

And for once, Rin didn’t mind it.

The walk home was quiet, but not in a bad way. Rin kept glancing at Sae from the corner of his eye, checking if he still looked pale, but his brother’s usual unreadable expression was back in place. 

It was annoying how fast he could just act like nothing happened.

Still, Rin didn’t push it. Sae hated being hovered over, and the last thing Rin wanted was to turn this into an argument.

When they reached home, Sae muttered a half-hearted, “I’m taking a shower,” before disappearing into the bathroom. Rin sighed, running a hand through his hair. 

He should’ve picked a different movie. He should’ve noticed earlier. But what was done was done.

Rin changed into his sleepwear and flopped onto his bed, staring at the ceiling. His mind replayed the moment Sae had turned pale, the way his hands trembled before he rushed to the trash bin. It was rare to see his brother like that. Vulnerable.

It made Rin feel weird.

A while later, his door creaked open. He didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

Sae.

Rin stayed still, pretending he hadn’t noticed, but his heart felt a little lighter when he heard his brother move to the other side of the room and settle down. They didn’t say anything. They didn’t need to.

Sae hated talking about these things, and Rin had no interest in making him uncomfortable.

So, he closed his eyes, let the quiet settle, and eventually, they both drifted off to sleep.

Chapter Text

It was around three in the morning when Rin stirred awake, shivering from the cold. 

Groggily, he blinked, only to see a familiar figure curled up beside him, wrapped snugly in his blanket like a human burrito.

Ah. Right. His brother had decided to crash in his room tonight.

Rin let out a slow, frustrated sigh. Fine. Whatever. But he was freezing , and there was no way he was just going to suffer while Sae hogged all the warmth.

Without hesitation, he grabbed the edge of the blanket and yanked.

Nothing.

Despite being smaller than him, Sae had an iron grip, even in his sleep. Annoyed but determined, Rin tried again, pulling harder. Still, Sae didn’t budge.

This was his bed, his blanket—he had every right to push his brother off and reclaim what was his. But no matter how much he tugged, shook, or even shoved him, Sae remained completely unbothered, fast asleep.

Rin’s patience wore thin. “Nii-chan. Give. Me. My. Blanket.” He emphasized each word with a pull, but Sae didn’t so much as twitch.

His shivers were getting worse, and the cold was making his teeth chatter. He licked his dry lips, a mischievous idea forming in his sleep-deprived mind. If brute force didn’t work, then he just had to resort to something evil .

With absolutely no remorse, Rin pulled back his foot—
And kicked Sae.

Hard.

Unfortunately, what he forgot was how wild Sae could be when asleep.

Because the next second, Sae’s unconscious reflex kicked back —twice as hard.

Before Rin could even process what happened, gravity betrayed him, and with a loud thud, he hit the floor.

“ Agh—! What the—?! You shitty brother!!” he hissed, rubbing his sore back.

Still, Sae didn’t wake up. Not even a flinch.

Rin groaned, defeated. Dragging himself back onto the bed, he grabbed an extra pillow and hugged it for warmth.

Fine. Whatever. He’d just suffer.

But Sae? If he so much as mentioned being cold in the morning, Rin was going to strangle him.

Rin buried his face into the pillow, huffing in frustration. The cold still nipped at his skin, but exhaustion was creeping in again, dragging his eyelids down.

His body curled instinctively, trying to trap whatever little warmth he had left. He could still hear the faint sound of Sae’s steady breathing, annoyingly peaceful compared to his own suffering.

Whatever. He’d deal with it in the morning.

With one last deep sigh, Rin let sleep pull him under.

And then— 

A memory.

It was faint, like a whisper at the back of his mind. He was ten, Sae was twelve, and they were standing in the middle of their old room. He didn’t remember how it started, but he remembered the way they looked at each other—challenging, stubborn, as if the world depended on who could outlast the other.

A ridiculous challenge . One that made no sense. But neither of them wanted to lose.

Rin’s brows furrowed in his sleep. The details were blurry, but the feeling remained. The sheer pettiness. The silent war. The unspoken need to prove himself against his brother.

By the time morning came, Rin woke up with an idea.

A very, very stupid idea.

A smirk pulled at his lips as he turned to see Sae still sleeping, tangled in his stolen blanket.

Fine. If his brother wanted to start things like this, then Rin was going to make sure the rest of the day would be just as annoying.

Challenge accepted.

The morning sun barely peeked through the curtains when Rin groggily sat up, rubbing his eyes. His mind was still foggy, but a faint memory lingered—a stupid challenge from years ago.

Something about being unbothered.

Then, an idea hit him.

Slowly, deliberately, he reached for Sae’s blanket and—

Yeeted it across the room.

The reaction was immediate. Sae shivered, his face scrunching up in mild discomfort before his eyes barely cracked open. He stared at Rin for exactly two seconds, exhaled sharply, and rolled over.

No complaints. No yelling. Not even a glare.

Rin narrowed his eyes.

Oh? So that’s how it was?

Leaning closer, he made sure Sae was fully awake before declaring, “You know what? I’m gonna be annoying today.”

Sae blinked at him, one eyebrow barely raised. Then, without a word, he got up and left the room.

The game had begun.

Rin stretched lazily as he walked down the hallway, still half-asleep. He could hear the shower running in the bathroom—Sae was already awake. 

Perfect.

Instead of waiting, Rin headed straight to the laundry room. With precise movements, he fished out Sae’s neatly folded towel, walked to the window, and tossed it outside.

Then, he sat down at the dining table and waited.

Minutes later, footsteps approached. 

The bathroom door opened, and Sae peeked from behind the door—damp hair sticking to his forehead, wearing nothing but his usual composure and a deep, growing irritation.

He looked at Rin. Rin looked back.

A long, heavy pause.

“…Where’s my towel?” Sae finally asked, voice flat.

Rin picked up his cup of tea, took a slow sip, and said, "Where do you think?"

Sae closed his eyes, inhaled deeply through his nose, and—without another word—turned on his heel, walking off to find a replacement.

Round one: success.

Morning light filtered through the kitchen window, casting a soft glow over the quiet room. The only sounds were the occasional clink of chopsticks against ceramic and the slow stirring of a spoon in milk.

Rin sat at the table, eyes locked on his cereal as if deep in thought. Across from him, Sae ate his rice and miso soup with his usual indifference, unaware—or perhaps completely uninterested—in whatever nonsense Rin was about to pull.

Then, without breaking eye contact, Rin grabbed the orange juice and poured it straight into his cereal.

A single drop splashed onto the table.

Sae’s chopsticks paused for a fraction of a second before continuing, his face as unreadable as ever.

Rin took a bite. Chewed. Swallowed. Another spoonful followed.

No reaction.

Fine. He could turn it up a notch.

Fingers tapping lightly against the table, Rin picked up his chopsticks—but instead of eating, he started drumming. A soft rhythm at first, gradually increasing in tempo. When that failed to earn even a glance, he flipped his spoon upside down and attempted to eat with the wrong end. Orange juices dribbled down his chin.

Still, nothing.

His patience wore thin. "You’re not going to ask?"

"Ask what?" Sae barely spared him a glance. 

"Why I’m doing this."

A slow, deliberate shrug. "I don’t care."

Rin smirked. "That’s good. Because I just decided that today, I’m going to be annoying."

Sae didn’t even blink. "That’s new?"

Scowling, Rin crossed his arms. "It’s different this time. I’m making it a challenge."

Finally, Sae set his bowl down and gave Rin his full attention. "A challenge?"

"Yeah. The ‘Who’s More Unbothered’ Challenge. "

For a brief moment, silence stretched between them. Then, something dangerous flickered in Sae’s eyes—a glint of amusement, maybe even mild interest.

Rin’s confidence wavered. Just a little.

His brother picked up his phone, tapped the screen a few times, then slid it back onto the table.

"Check your bank account," Sae said, taking another bite of rice.

Frowning, Rin pulled out his phone. The notification that popped up nearly made him choke.

"You transferred me… one yen ?"

Sae wiped his mouth with a napkin. "Yeah."

"Why?"

"Just felt like it."

Rin inhaled sharply.

The challenge had begun.

Rin narrowed his eyes at the one yen deposit sitting mockingly in his bank account. It wasn’t even the amount that annoyed him—it was the sheer pettiness of it. The effortless execution. Sae didn’t even need to try.

Fine. If he wanted to play like that, Rin would step up.

With a calm expression, he picked up his bowl of cereal—orange juice and all—stood up, and casually placed it in the microwave.

Sae watched, expression still unreadable, as Rin set the timer for exactly thirty seconds. The microwave hummed to life.

Neither of them spoke. The air was thick with silent tension.

Ding.

Rin retrieved his now warm cereal, sat back down, and took a deliberate spoonful. His face remained perfectly neutral as he chewed.

Sae leaned back in his chair. "That’s disgusting."

Rin shrugged. "Wouldn’t know. I’m unbothered."

There it was again—that small flicker of amusement in Sae’s eyes. He took his time finishing his food, then, with slow and deliberate movements, stood up and walked over to the fridge.

Rin tensed.

Sae pulled out the remote.

The remote. From the fridge.

Rin’s face twitched. " When did you put that in there?"

His brother didn’t answer. Instead, he turned on the TV with the perfect indifference of someone who definitely hadn’t just stored an electronic device next to the eggs.

Rin clenched his jaw. This wasn’t over.

He waited until Sae was comfortably watching the screen before sliding off his chair, walking over to the sink, and—without hesitation—dipping one socked foot into the dishwater.

Sae didn’t react.

Rin moved his foot around. Swished it back and forth like a goldfish in a tank.

Still nothing.

Fine. FINE.

He yanked off his wet sock, walked over to the couch, and slapped it down onto Sae’s bare knee.

Sae’s entire body stiffened.

For the first time since the challenge began, his lips parted—just slightly—like he was about to say something.

Then, he inhaled deeply through his nose, picked up the remote, and turned the volume up.

Rin scowled. This was war.

Rin was running out of ideas. He needed something big —something so absurd that even Sae couldn’t keep a straight face.

And then, inspiration struck.

With the confidence of a man about to make history, he stood up, walked to the corner of the room, and faced the wall.

Sae barely glanced at him.

Then, Rin placed both hands against the surface, tilted his head down, and just… stood there.

Silence.

Sae’s gaze flickered toward him, then back to the TV.

Seconds passed. Then minutes.

Finally, without looking away from the screen, Sae spoke. “What are you doing?”

Exhaled slowly, like he was mourning something deep and profound. “Just… thinking.”

Sae blinked.

He kept staring at the wall, fingers splayed out like a tragic protagonist lost in thought. “You ever wonder… why we’re here?”

“Oh my god.” Sae ran a hand down his face. “You’re so stupid.”

Rin turned his head slightly, just enough to make eye contact. “Unbothered, remember?”

The older siblings gave him a look that screamed I will end you , but his composure remained intact. Instead, he set his drink down, stood up, and walked out of the room.

Rin smirked, thinking he’d finally won—until Sae returned.

Holding Rin’s phone.

Rin’s smirk disappeared. “Hey.”

Sae unlocked it effortlessly. “You really shouldn’t use your birthday as your passcode.”

“ Nii-chan, don’t— ”

It was too late.

Sae opened Rin’s search history and started reading out loud.

“‘How to win a staring contest against a cat.’”

Rin lunged for the phone, but Sae sidestepped effortlessly.

“‘Can you legally fight a goose?’”

“STOP READING.”

Sae scrolled further. “Oh, this one’s nice—‘why does my left sock always disappear in the wash but not the right one.’”

“I WAS LOOKING FOR ANSWERS.”

Sae let out the smallest exhale—almost a laugh—but quickly masked it with a fake cough. “Unbothered.”

Rin gritted his teeth, then did the only thing he could.

He grabbed the remote and—right in front of Sae—put it back in the fridge.

Sae stared at him. Rin stared back.

A silent agreement passed between them.

This wasn’t ending anytime soon.

By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, the house had turned into a silent war zone.

Rin was sitting upside down on the couch, legs draped over the backrest like some kind of cryptid. Sae sat on the floor, cross-legged, eating dinner with chopsticks in one hand and a fork in the other . Neither acknowledged how utterly deranged this was.

Unbothered. Always.

Just then, Sae’s phone rang. He picked it up, putting it on speaker.

“ Sae? ” Their mother’s voice rang through the room. “ Where’s Rin? He’s not answering his phone. ”

Rin, still upside down, slowly lifted his arm and wiggled his fingers in greeting.

Sae glanced at him, then answered in the flattest voice possible. “He’s here. Just being weird.”

Their mother sighed. “ And you’re not? ”

“…No.”

Rin mouthed Liar.

“Well, whatever. I’m calling to check in. Did you two eat yet?”

Sae looked down at his abomination of a dinner, then at Rin, who had abandoned normal eating practices altogether and was just holding a spoonful of rice but refusing to eat it.

“…Yeah.”

Their mother hesitated. “ …Why don’t I believe you? ”

Rin, with the perfect timing of a menace, muttered, “Rice is just crunchy water.”

A pause. Then—

“ Rin, go to bed. ”

Sae smirked in triumph. “He’s not gonna listen.”

“I am,” Rin said, shoveling rice into his mouth. “But not because she told me to.”

Another sigh from their mother. “ I don’t even want to know. Just don’t break anything. And sleep early, you hear me? ”

“Sure,” Sae said, which meant absolutely nothing.

The call ended.

For a few moments, silence reigned.

Then Rin, still chewing, looked Sae dead in the eye and whispered, “You lost.”

Sae raised an eyebrow. “Huh?”

“You smirked.”

Sae scoffed. “That wasn’t a—”

“You reacted. ”

Rin sat up normally, pointing at him with his spoon like he had just cracked a case. “And that means—”

Sae cut him off by grabbing the remote from the fridge and turning on the TV.

Unbothered.

The night stretched on, but neither of them showed any signs of surrender.

Rin sat on the couch with his arms folded, glaring at the TV. Not because he was watching, but because Sae was watching. And Sae, being an insufferable older brother, had chosen the most boring documentary imaginable . 

Something about the history of ladders.

It was torture.

Not that Rin would admit it.

Meanwhile, Sae, sitting at a perfect ninety-degree angle like some kind of regal statue, casually sipped his tea— with a straw .

Rin narrowed his eyes. He needed something bigger. Something that would force Sae to crack.

Slowly, he reached for the marshmallow bag sitting on the table. Took one out. Held it between his fingers.

And then, without breaking eye contact, he stuffed it into his mouth whole.

Sae didn’t react.

So Rin did it again. And again. And again.

Marshmallow after marshmallow, until his cheeks were puffed up like a hamster preparing for hibernation. He struggled to chew, but he refused to lose. His face turned slightly red. His eyes watered. He was suffering .

And still—Sae didn’t blink .

It was infuriating.

Rin slammed his hand down, grabbed the remote ( from the fridge again—seriously, why? ), and changed the channel.

A game show.

A cooking battle.

A children’s cartoon about talking vegetables.

Nothing.

Sae continued sipping his tea.

Rin gritted his teeth. Fine. If subtlety wouldn’t work, then—

He stood up, marched toward the light switch, and flipped it on and off repeatedly like a possessed gremlin.

Click. Click. Click. Click. Click.

Sae still didn’t react.

“Are you serious? ” Rin finally snapped.

Sae sipped his tea again. Through the damn straw.

Then, after an excruciating pause, he simply said, “Are you done?”

Rin seethed. He wasn’t just losing. He was getting humiliated . This wasn’t a game anymore. This was war.

Taking a deep breath, he said the only thing he knew would break Sae.

“You know,” Rin muttered, tilting his head, “the more I think about it… pineapple on pizza kinda makes sense .”

Silence.

Sae’s fingers tightened around his cup.

His eye twitched .

Rin grinned .

“Oh?” he pressed, leaning in. “What’s wrong, Nii-chan? Something bothering you?”

Sae slowly placed his tea down. The air in the room shifted.

“You,” he said, voice dangerously calm, “are an idiot.”

Rin’s grin widened. “A winning idiot.”

And just like that, the game was over.

Sae exhaled sharply, grabbing the blanket off the couch and throwing it over his head as he stood. “Go to bed, moron.”

Rin smirked, victorious, and dramatically flopped onto the couch. “Night, loser.”

Sae didn’t respond. He was already walking away.

But Rin could feel it. The quiet, begrudging respect in the way his brother didn’t argue further.

Unbothered? Maybe.

But a little bit impressed?

Definitely.

Sae was already halfway to his room when he paused. Then, without looking back, he said in the most casual tone imaginable—

“Oh, by the way. Mom called earlier.”

Rin barely reacted, stretching out on the couch. “Yeah? So?”

“She said she saw your latest game.”

Silence.

Rin blinked. Huh?

“She told me to tell you…” Sae trailed off for maximum effect, before delivering the final blow.

“…That you should probably consider another career.”

A dagger straight to the heart.

Rin froze . His mind short-circuited. His stomach dropped .

His lip wobbled. His breath hitched. And before he knew it—

His eyes filled with tears.

Sae’s victory smirk disappeared immediately .

“Wait—” His eyes widened. “Oi. I was just—”

Rin sniffled, wiping his eyes dramatically. “Y-You— hic —you don’t understand, Nii-chan…” His voice wavered, utterly devastated. “That game… meant everything to me…”

“Oh my god.” Sae’s entire body stiffened. “You’re not serious.”

Rin let out a shaky breath, his shoulders trembling. “I… I don’t know if I can keep going…”

Sae panicked. “Okay, hold on—”

“Maybe… Maybe she’s right.” Rin hiccuped. “Maybe I should—should quit—”

Sae immediately stormed back into the room, hands hovering over Rin like he had no idea what to do. “Shut up. You’re not quitting. Mom doesn’t know anything about soccer.”

“But—”

“ Shut up, ” Sae snapped, now visibly tense. “You’re fine. You’re good. No, actually, you’re better than good. Stop crying.”

Rin sniffled again. His whole body trembled. Sae was visibly distressed .

And then—

Rin smirked.

Gotcha.

Sae realized it a second too late.

The tears dried up instantly as Rin straightened, smug as ever. “Whew! That was a good one, huh?”

Sae just stared .

Rin stretched his arms with a satisfied sigh. “Damn, Nii-chan. You were worried about me.”

Sae was still frozen. Processing.

Then, finally—

“I hate you.”

Rin cackled .

“Go to sleep,” Sae muttered, already turning to leave.

“Admit it! I won!”

“Shut up .”

And that was how Rin emerged as the reigning champion of The Ultimate ‘Who’s More Unbothered’ Challenge.

Just as Sae reached the stairs, Rin—still grinning—shifted on the couch and whispered, “Love you, Nii-chan.”

Sae paused.

For half a second, there was only silence. Then, without turning around, he scoffed. “Idiot.”

But Rin caught it—the way Sae’s steps were just a little lighter as he walked away.

Satisfied, Rin closed his eyes, victorious in more ways than one.

Chapter Text

The morning was far too early for this.

Rin barely managed to drag himself out of bed, still groggy from sleep. His body moved on autopilot as he went through his usual routine—rubbing his eyes, stretching out the stiffness in his muscles, and making his way to the door, ready to start the day at his own, blissfully slow pace. 

But the second he opened it, he was met with a face far too close for comfort.

He blinked.

Sae stood directly in front of him, arms crossed, completely unfazed by the rude awakening he had just subjected Rin to. Rin, on the other hand, had to tilt his head slightly downward. It was only six centimeters, but it was enough to feel like he had some advantage over his brother. 

Not that it mattered when Sae was clearly here with a purpose.

"Come with me," Sae said, as if that was a normal way to greet someone at the crack of dawn.

Rin frowned, barely processing the demand. "What?"

"The store. I need ingredients."

For a moment, Rin thought he misheard. He glanced toward the nearest clock and confirmed—yes, it was still stupidly early. "Are you serious? You’re dragging me out this early just because you suddenly feel like cooking?"

Sae lifted a shoulder in a lazy shrug. "Yes."

Rin sighed, running a hand through his already messy hair. He had exactly two weeks off from Blue Lock—his one rare chance to sleep in, relax, and do things at his own pace. 

And yet, most of his days so far had been dictated by whatever random plans his older brother decided to make. Somehow, that thought frustrated him more than he wanted to admit.

"You’re not going to let me say no, are you?" he muttered, rubbing his temples.

"Nope."

Rin sighed again, this time heavier. He had half a mind to slam the door shut and go right back to sleep, but he knew from experience that Sae could be incredibly persistent—especially when he wanted something. 

And after yesterday’s ridiculous game, Rin figured he’d rather not deal with his brother being insufferable for another full day.

"Fine. Just let me shower first."

"Hurry up."

"I’ll take my time, actually."

Even though Rin usually saved his showers for later in the day when he had time to properly wake up, he forced himself under the hot spray, trying to shake off his irritation. His day off, and he was already being bossed around. 

Typical.

Once ready, he stepped out of the house with Sae, the morning air still crisp and cool around them. They walked in comfortable silence, at least until Rin decided to ask the obvious question.

"So, what exactly are you making that’s so important it couldn’t wait?"

"Kunafeh."

Rin shot him a confused glance. "...What?"

"Kunafeh. It’s an Arabic dessert. I found a recipe online and wanted to try it."

Rin tried to recall if he had ever heard of it before, but nothing came to mind. He did, however, remember an exotic Middle Eastern store in town that probably had all the ingredients Sae needed.

"We’re going to that specialty shop, aren’t we?" Rin guessed.

"Obviously."

Rin sighed. "Figures."

The rest of the walk was quiet, aside from the occasional chatter of early risers and the distant hum of traffic. When they finally arrived at the store, Rin casually stepped forward, expecting nothing out of the ordinary.

And then, it happened.

The automatic doors slid open for him with no problem. He took a step inside, glancing back just in time to see Sae approaching the entrance.

And stopping.

The doors didn’t move.

Rin paused, confused. Sae stood directly in front of the doors, waiting, but they remained stubbornly shut. A second passed. Then another.

Rin bit his lip, watching as Sae took a small step back before stepping forward again. Nothing. The doors refused to acknowledge his existence.

Another customer approached from behind and walked straight through with no issue. The doors worked perfectly fine—for everyone except Sae.

Rin’s lips twitched. Sae, now looking mildly inconvenienced, lifted a hand and waved in front of the sensor. 

The doors remained shut.

Rin turned away, shoulders shaking. This was too good.

Sae stepped to the side, then forward again. Still nothing. 

The doors had officially decided that Itoshi Sae did not exist. Rin was losing it.

The store employee, finally noticing the bizarre situation, hurried over and manually pushed the doors open. Sae walked in without a word, his expression unreadable.

Rin, on the other hand, had to lean against a nearby shelf, wheezing from suppressed laughter.

"Shut up," Sae muttered, already reaching for a basket.

Rin grinned, wiping a tear from his eye. "Oh, I wasn’t going to say anything. But I think the universe just humbled you, nii-chan."

Sae shot him a sharp look before walking off, leaving Rin trailing behind, still grinning. This morning may have started off terribly, but now? Now, it was already worth it.

The store's bright fluorescent lights cast a sterile glow over the neatly arranged aisles. 

Rin and Sae strode in, their usual air of disinterest making them look more like two reluctant hostages than willing customers.

Sae, with his phone in hand, barely spared a glance at his surroundings. 

His fingers moved swiftly as he scrolled through his screen, double-checking the ingredients he needed. Rin, on the other hand, stuffed his hands into his hoodie pockets and trailed after him, still not fully awake. 

The only thing motivating him was the thought that the sooner they found everything, the sooner he could go back home and do absolutely nothing.

A store employee eyed them from the counter, seemingly debating whether to offer assistance. 

But something about the way the two carried themselves—Sae’s cold, unreadable face and Rin’s perpetual scowl—made the worker hesitate. 

No way was he about to risk an awkward interaction with these two.

“Kunafeh dough,” Sae muttered under his breath, his eyes flicking between his phone and the shelves.

Rin furrowed his brows. “What even is that?”

Sae didn’t bother answering. 

Instead, he walked toward a shelf labeled ‘Imported Goods’ and started scanning for the elusive dough. After a few moments, he pulled out a clear package filled with what looked suspiciously like thin, shredded noodles.

Rin blinked at it. “That’s not dough.”

Sae flipped the package over, checking the label. “It says kataifi.”

“What the hell is kataifi?”

Without responding, Sae quickly searched the term on his phone. Rin sighed and leaned over to glance at the screen. 

A video popped up, featuring a cheerful cook explaining that kataifi was, in fact, the correct type of dough used for kunafeh. The video even demonstrated how it was used, layering the fine strands over cheese before baking it into a crispy, golden dessert.

Rin’s skepticism deepened. “That doesn’t look like dough. Dough is supposed to be… you know, actual dough.”

Sae gave him a blank look. “It’s dough.”

“It’s noodles.”

“It’s shredded phyllo dough.”

Rin squinted at the package as if it personally offended him. “Who even thinks of making dessert out of that?”

Sae didn’t answer. He simply tossed the package into the shopping basket and continued walking. Rin rolled his eyes and followed, still not convinced that this so-called dessert was edible.

Next on the list was tahini. 

This time, it took a little longer to locate. 

They wandered through the aisles, ignoring the store worker, who had wisely chosen to leave them alone. Rin scrolled on his own phone, trying to make sense of what tahini actually was.

“Sesame paste?” he muttered under his breath. “Why do you need sesame paste for a dessert?”

Sae didn’t look up from his phone. “It’s used for flavor.”

“I swear you just see random stuff online and decide to make it.”

Sae remained unbothered, and they continued their silent search until, eventually, they found a small glass jar labeled ‘tahini’ tucked away on the bottom shelf of the international foods section. Sae grabbed it without hesitation, while Rin still looked mildly disturbed by the ingredient choice.

Finally, they needed cheese. 

The recipe online suggested a special kind of cheese traditionally used in kunafeh, but Sae had already anticipated that it wouldn’t be available at a regular store. 

Instead, they settled for a mix of mozzarella and ricotta, which was supposedly a decent substitute.

With everything finally gathered in the basket, Rin let out a deep breath. “Alright, can we go now?”

Sae simply nodded and made his way toward the register. Rin followed, still baffled at the existence of this dessert. 

He wasn’t about to question his brother’s choices out loud, but he was seriously starting to wonder what went on inside Sae’s head to make him want to cook something like this.

Still, if it tasted good, he wouldn’t complain.

The grocery bags in their hands felt heavier than they should have. 

The walk back home was quiet, save for the occasional sound of rustling plastic and the distant hum of cars passing by. It wasn’t awkward silence—just the natural quiet that existed between two people who didn’t feel the need to fill every space with words.

Then, they passed by the old store.

Rin’s steps slowed. 

His gaze drifted toward the faded sign and the window display, where rows of cheap, colorful ice popsicles sat in a half-working freezer.

Memories surfaced like waves crashing against a shore, persistent and uninvited. 

The store used to be their usual stop on the way home when they were kids. Back when things were simpler—back when he still called Sae “nii-chan” without hesitation.

Sae would always buy an ice pop, the same kind every time. 

And somehow, Rin always ended up with the winning stick, the one that got him another free one. 

Every single time.

“Wasting your luck on useless things,” Sae would say, annoyed but never truly upset. And then, the next time, Sae would buy another ice pop for himself, only to lose again. The cycle continued, their own little game.

Rin had thought nothing of it back then. 

It was just a part of their routine, a minor sibling rivalry. But standing in front of the store now, years later, it felt heavier. Because now, looking back, he wondered—was his brother really annoyed? Or was there something else beneath those words?

Maybe Sae had just been a sore loser, or maybe… maybe it was something deeper. 

Maybe he had just been watching Rin get lucky, time and time again, while he lost.

A sinking feeling settled in Rin’s chest. 

He wasn’t sure why, but the memory left a bitter taste in his mouth. Because the warmth that used to come with it—the automatic knowledge that, win or lose, Sae would always be there to buy him another ice pop—was gone. 

It had been gone for years.

The Sae standing beside him now might have his brother’s face, his voice, his mannerisms. But he wasn’t his nii-chan. Not anymore.

Because the words Sae had spoken back then—sharp, cold, meant to cut—had done just that. And the wounds never healed.

All these days they had spent together—four days of strange, almost civil interactions—what did they even mean? Were they just the bare minimum of two people forced to live under the same roof? A simple act of coexistence?

Or was it something else?

Rin didn’t know. And he was too afraid to find out. Because deep down, if he let himself look too long, if he let himself believe—he might start hoping again.

And hope had always been dangerous.

Hope was what left him shattered after that snowy night when he lost. 

Hope was what made him chase after Sae, thinking there was something left to hold on to.

Hope was what made him believe he could ever reach him.

He had lost everything the moment that match ended. And in some twisted way, it was easier to be angry. To be distant. To pretend he didn’t care.

Because if he let himself care again, if he let the walls crack even a little, he wasn’t sure if he’d survive it.

Maybe that was why he stopped in front of the store. Maybe that was why his chest ached. Maybe… he just wanted to buy an ice pop. 

Just to remind himself of the brother he had lost . To nii-chan that had died that snowy night.

Just to grieve.

“Do you want an ice popsicle?”

Sae’s voice cut through his thoughts.

Rin blinked. He hadn’t realized he had been staring at the store for so long. He turned to look at Sae, who had one brow slightly raised, his expression unreadable.

The answer was no. That’s what he wanted to say. That’s what he should say.

But he only shook his head, not trusting his voice to hold steady.

Although Rin shook his head, Sae still went into the store, leaving Rin no choice but to follow. The weight in his chest grew heavier. Why did Sae have to do this? Did he still think he knew Rin?

Buying him an ice popsicle every time he felt sad—just like back then, when Rin had worried that Mom and Dad would get mad at him for breaking his toy again. 

Sae, never one for words of comfort, had always just handed him a popsicle instead. It was a quiet, wordless gesture, one that had once meant the world to Rin.

So why now? Why did Sae act like he could still sense the scars Rin carried and do the same thing as if nothing had changed?

Rin took the popsicle anyway. 

They walked home in silence, the sky above them darkening, thick with clouds that threatened rain. It did nothing to help the storm brewing in Rin’s mind.

He took a bite of the popsicle, the familiar sweetness melting on his tongue. The taste was the same as it had always been, a relic of a past that felt so distant yet painfully close. He glanced at the stick, and there it was—the winning mark. Again.

A sharp tch came from beside him. Rin didn't even need to look; he already knew. Sae must’ve gotten the losing stick again.

Despite everything—the pain, the memories, the weight in his chest—something about Sae’s small, exasperated reaction was enough to brush all his heavy thoughts away for a moment.

A quiet snicker escaped him.

"Even after all these years, you still get the losing stick," Rin murmured, his voice laced with amusement.

Sae rolled his eyes, but for the briefest moment, a small smile flickered on his face.

Then they stopped—well, Sae stopped—his gaze fixed on the shore. Their hometown was close to the sea, and Rin knew his brother liked to stare at the vast waters, lost in thought.

So, out of habit, Rin stopped too.

Their popsicles were already finished, leaving nothing but the wooden sticks in their hands. 

Without thinking, Rin flicked his stick toward the shore, letting the waves take it away, just like he used to do when they were kids. A moment later, Sae did the same.

Silence stretched between them, filled only by the distant crash of waves. Then, Sae spoke.

“What’s bothering you?”

Rin blinked, caught off guard. “Huh?” He was sure he hadn’t made any face that showed sadness or anything close to it.

“You’d think after all these years, I wouldn’t recognize what kind of face you make when you’re sad?”

“I’m not sad,” Rin muttered skeptically.

Sae scoffed. “I’ve literally seen you since you were a baby. I know you, Rin.” His voice held no sharpness, just a matter-of-fact certainty. “So, what’s bothering you?”

Rin bit his lower lip, unsure how to respond. 

The sudden shift in conversation unsettled him. Sae was unpredictable, and Rin was so sure he wasn’t ready to have this kind of talk—especially not this early morning, after grocery shopping, at what used to be their usual spot.

So he said nothing. Just pressed his lips into a thin line and kept his thoughts locked away.

The silence stretched between them, only broken by the distant cries of seagulls and the soft crunch of their shoes against the damp sand.

Rin kept his gaze locked on the horizon, pretending he hadn’t heard Sae’s question.

"You’re not going to answer?" Sae asked again, his voice carrying no impatience, just quiet persistence.

Rin clenched his jaw, kicking at a stray pebble. “There’s nothing to say.”

Sae hummed, clearly unconvinced. “You were staring at that store for a long time.”

He didn’t need to elaborate. Rin knew exactly what he meant. The old convenience store. The ice popsicles. The stupid childhood memories that still clung to him like a ghost he couldn’t shake.

Rin swallowed, forcing himself to sound indifferent. “Just remembering something dumb.”

His brother scoffed lightly, shifting his weight. “If it was dumb, you wouldn’t look like that.”

He turned sharply to him, defensive. “Like what?”

Sae didn’t answer immediately. He just looked at Rin, really looked at him, with those same unreadable eyes that had always made Rin feel small. But there was something different in them now—not the usual arrogance or distance, but something quieter. Softer.

“You looked like you were mourning something,” Sae said at last.

Rin’s breath hitched, barely noticeable, but enough that he turned his head away, letting the wind bite at his exposed skin.

Mourning.

He didn’t want to think about it. 

Didn’t want to acknowledge that some part of him had been grieving for a year—for a brother who had changed, for a bond that had been severed, for a past that he couldn’t bring back no matter how much he wanted to.

But of course, Sae saw through him. He always did.

Rin exhaled slowly, steadying himself. “I just—” He paused, struggling to put his thoughts into words. “It’s stupid. Forget it.”

Sae didn’t push. He never did. 

He only nodded slightly, as if understanding something Rin hadn’t even said out loud.

Another stretch of silence. Another wave crashing against the shore.

Then, quietly, Sae spoke.

“I don’t think it’s stupid.”

Rin’s fingers twitched. He almost wanted to ask— then why did you leave? Why did you say all those things back then? Why did you stop being my nii-chan?

But the words lodged in his throat like a stone.

Instead, he only closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply. The scent of salt and sea filled his lungs, grounding him.

When he opened them again, Sae was still looking out at the ocean, hands in his pockets, posture relaxed.

Just like old times.

Then before Rin had time to register the sudden shift before he felt it—the warmth of Sae’s arms around him, firm but not suffocating, hesitant but not unsure.

His breath caught in his throat.

What…?

Sae had never been the type to offer comfort through touch. Not always. Not like this. rarely since they were kids, never since things changed.

Rin’s body tensed on instinct, years of walls and resentment snapping into place, screaming at him to pull away—to question it, to shove Sae off, to accuse him of playing some meaningless act of sentimentality.

But then Sae spoke, low and quiet, almost drowned out by the waves.

“…You’re not alone, you know.”

A vague reassurance, nothing too deep, nothing too dramatic. Just a simple truth.

Yet, it was enough to send a storm raging inside Rin’s heart.

He wanted to believe it.

But part of him was terrified that if he did, he’d end up hurt all over again.

His fingers twitched, hovering between pushing Sae away and holding on. In the end, he did neither. He just stood there, frozen, feeling the warmth seep into his skin, into the cracks he’d spent years trying to patch up.

It hurt. But at the same time, it felt… safe.

So he said nothing.

He didn’t ask why. Didn’t tell Sae to let go.

Instead, just this once, Rin allowed himself to stay still and savor the moment—before reality could take it away again.

Rin hesitated.

For just a second, his fingers twitched at his sides, an impulse he didn’t fully understand—or maybe one he did but refused to acknowledge.

He wanted to return the hug.

Just a little. Just enough to see if it was real.

But before he could, Sae pulled away.

The warmth disappeared, leaving behind a cold, hollow ache that sank deep into Rin’s chest. Damn it. Damn him.

But he didn’t let it show.

Instead, he forced his expression into indifference, shoving his hands into his pockets as if nothing had happened. As if his heart hadn’t clenched the moment Sae let go.

Sae, of course, was just standing there, completely unbothered—until he gave Rin that smile.

That rare, subtle smile. The one that had always belonged to Rin alone.

And just like that, all the bitterness, all the complicated emotions tangled inside him, faded into quiet surrender.

They turned back toward home, walking in silence.

Neither of them spoke.

Rin walked beside Sae, eyes fixed ahead, his hands buried deep in his pockets. The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable—but it wasn’t peaceful either. It felt like standing at the edge of something, staring down, unsure whether to jump or step back.

The ghost of Sae’s warmth still clung to his skin. 

That brief moment, that hug, had cracked something inside him, just enough to make him feel unsteady. But before he could reach out, before he could convince himself it was real, Sae had already let go.

Just like always.

Rin clenched his jaw, his fingers curling into fists. He hated this. 

Hated how a single moment of kindness from Sae could make his chest ache like this. Hated how it was so easy to feel like a kid again—hopeful, desperate, wanting so badly to believe that maybe, just maybe, his brother hadn’t changed as much as he thought.

But that was the problem, wasn’t it?

It was a lie.

Because no matter how much Sae looked like his brother, sounded like his brother, did the same little habits his brother used to do—he wasn’t. That person was gone. That person died that night.

And Rin hated himself for still wanting him back.

A drop of rain hit his cheek, cold against his skin. He exhaled sharply, forcing down the lump in his throat.

They kept walking, the city lights flickering on in the distance, the rain starting to fall around them. Rin didn’t say anything.

Because if he did—if he let himself speak—he wasn’t sure what would come out.

Chapter Text

The plastic grocery bag was a bit damp from the sudden rain.

Luckily, on the way, they found a bus stop, so both Itoshi took shelter before getting drenched in the heavy rain that had been threatening to fall for hours.

“Doesn’t look like it’ll stop,” Sae sighed, looking up at the dark, rainy sky with his usual unbothered expression.

But his voice carried a different weight. His eyes flicked to Rin before he sighed again —like he was silently judging him. Rin could tell from that subtle look, the kind only siblings would understand.

But Rin didn’t ask. Maybe Sae was just annoyed they hadn’t brought an umbrella. Still, why waste time waiting for the rain to stop when they could just run home? It would only take five minutes from here.

And if Sae sighed one more time, Rin was going to lose it.

Then Sae sighed again.

“Are you worried about the groceries?” Rin finally asked, unable to ignore it anymore.

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, but then Sae clicked his tongue, staring at the rain with more intensity before turning back to Rin.

“You can run?”

Now he just felt offended, Rin frowned. “Who do you take me for?”

Seriously? He was a football player. A little rain wouldn’t kill him. In fact, now that the challenge was in his head, he bet he could outrun Sae and get home first.

“Are you sure?”

He felt his eye twitch. Instead of answering, he readied himself, taking a stance, which Sae took as a cue to follow.

“On three,” Sae said. “One, two—” Rin was already sprinting. “—this brat.”

And they ran. It was quick, and the rain wasn’t that sharp. It gave Rin a nostalgic feeling as he watched the neighborhood blur under the pouring rain.

It reminded him of all the times he and nii-chan had to run home without an umbrella. Every time they forgot, their mother would always get mad afterward. And, as always, nii-chan would step in to defend them both. Rin never really understood why she got so upset—they were just running through the rain instead of waiting.

Just like now. It was kind of fun.

He could hear Sae’s footsteps just behind him. A glance to his right confirmed it—his brother was right there. 

An idea came to him. Timing his step, Rin stomped hard into a puddle.

Water splashed all over Sae.

"You—!"

Rin sprinted ahead, grinning. Sae wasted no time getting revenge. With longer strides, he caught up and stomped down into a puddle—this time sending water straight into Rin’s face.

"Hey!" Rin stopped to wipe off the rainwater with his already drenched sleeve.

At this point, their five-minute run home had turned into a competition of who could splash the other more. Every step sent water flying. It was ridiculous, childish— hilarious . Rin wasn’t even mad. 

Because, for once, Sae was playing along. 

The small smirk on his face stretched into a real smile.

It was fun—until a sudden shiver ran through Rin’s body. It was quick, disappearing almost as soon as it came, but it was enough to make him stumble. His foot slipped.

Bracing for impact, he expected to hit the ground, but instead—warmth.

Sae had caught him.

Rin blinked up at him, speechless. Sae didn’t say anything either, just let him stand straight again before sighing.

“We should go straight home,” Sae said.

Rin nodded. No more playing.

By the time they reached their front door, both were completely drenched. Rin stood there, waiting as Sae reached into his pocket—only to stop abruptly.

A sigh escaped his lips.

"What is it?" Rin asked.

Another shiver ran through him, this time worse than before. The cold wind, mixed with the rain, only made it worse.

Sae finally spoke. "I left my bag at the bus stop. The key was in it."

Silence. The only sound was the heavy downpour around them.

Rin unconsciously wrapped his arms around himself, trying to preserve any warmth left. Sae glanced at him and frowned.

And then—just like before—Sae made his decision without another word.

"You wait here." He barely gave Rin time to react before sprinting off, back the way they came.

Now alone, standing under the small covered space outside their house, Rin felt the silence settle in.

Then— achoo!

He sneezed.

Inevitable. Of course, this was happening. The rain had already done its damage, and now, standing out here soaking wet wasn’t helping.

With no choice, Rin sat down on the ground, hugging himself for warmth.

His thoughts wandered back to earlier. It was fun. That moment, running through the rain, was enough to make him forget all the thoughts that had been weighing on him that morning.

And the hug.

Rin’s lips pressed together.

He wished Sae would do that more.

Another sneeze.

Right now, though, he just wished Sae would hurry. He was freezing .

They made it inside safely, the warmth immediately soothing Rin’s shivers.

Without a word, both of them went to take hot showers. Afterward, Rin headed straight to his bed, planning to continue whatever he had in mind—not that he actually had anything planned.

Meanwhile, Sae busied himself in the kitchen, preparing ingredients for his usual midnight cooking. Rin already knew how this would go—Sae would drag him into it, like always. Not that Rin minded. If anything, it gave him a strange sense of warmth, like Sae wanted him there. Like he included him in his life, even after saying Rin was no longer necessary.

Looking at things now, it didn’t feel all that different from before Sae left for Spain.

Rin hated to admit it, but he wished their time together would last longer than just this two-week break.

Before he could get lost in those thoughts, another shiver ran through him, followed by a sneeze. With a quiet sigh, he pulled his blanket up, covering himself from head to toe. But even then, the cold still clung to his skin.

Then came the headache. A deep, nauseating ache that made the room spin. Rin groaned, body stiffening as a dull pain spread through his joints. 

Everything felt unbearably uncomfortable.

Maybe it was the change in routine. He hadn’t done his yoga today—could skipping one session really make this much of a difference?

Or maybe it was because he hadn’t eaten yet. But his stomach didn’t feel empty, just unsettled—like something heavy was rising in his throat.

Whatever the reason, Rin decided there was only one plan for today: sleep it off .

And so, for the first time in years, Itoshi Rin went back to sleep at 10 in the morning.

Rin didn’t feel better when he woke up.

The rain had stopped, and his room was now bathed in the golden light of the evening sun. His blurry gaze landed on the digital clock— three in the afternoon.

And yet, he felt worse than before.

His skin was cold, but his body burned. The headache was gone, but it didn’t matter because now, his limbs felt impossibly heavy, like he had no strength left to even sit up.

Maybe he was just really hungry. Maybe that was why he felt like this. But damn it , he didn’t have the energy to fight it off. So he stayed where he was, curling deeper into his blanket, hoping for more warmth.

The house was quiet.

Uncomfortably quiet.

It didn’t bring him peace—it only reminded him of bad memories.

Same view. Same position. Same silence. Just like that morning after the snowy night—sick, weak, alone.

A knock at the door snapped him out of his thoughts, followed by his brother’s voice.

“Rin, come down. You skipped lunch.”

Rin didn’t answer. His throat was dry, too dry to bother responding. He decided to just pretend he was asleep.

Another pause. Then Sae spoke again.

“Mom called. Said you didn’t pick up.”

Rin would have checked his phone, but the blanket was too comfortable, and moving felt like too much effort. And Sae? Whatever . He could eat whenever he wanted.

“Rin.”

Urgh. Couldn’t he just leave him alone ?

Accompanying Sae to buy groceries this morning had already messed up his routine. That was enough of a bother for today.

Rin let out a low groan, hoping his brother would take the hint and walk away.

The door opened.

Rin rolled his eyes as Sae stepped inside, completely unbothered by the lack of permission. His brother had that same deadpan expression, followed by yet another sigh—louder this time, as if he wanted Rin to hear it.

Why does he sigh so much?

It only added to the negativity swirling in Rin’s head. If he was such a nuisance, then why did Sae even bother coming in?

“You have a cold.” It wasn’t a question. His tone made it clear—he had expected this.

Sae took another step closer, and Rin’s frown deepened.

“Leave me alone,” Rin muttered, aiming for something sharp, something firm. But his voice came out hoarse instead.

And he wasn’t sick. Both of them had been drenched in the rain. If he was sick, then Sae should be too.

So no. He was just having a bad day.

Definitely not sick.

Sae didn’t respond right away. He just stared, eyes scanning over Rin like he was assessing how bad it really was.

Then, without a word, he turned and left.

Rin sighed in relief. Finally.

But before he could settle back into his blanket, Sae returned—this time with a bottle of water and a pack of medicine. He placed them on Rin’s bedside table with the same blank expression, then crossed his arms.

“Take it.”

Rin groaned, burying himself deeper under the blanket. “Go away.”

Sae didn’t move. “You have a fever.”

“No, I don’t.”

“You look like shit.”

Rin scowled, though it didn’t hold much strength when he was half-buried under layers of warmth. He did feel like shit, but that wasn’t the point.

Sae wasn’t supposed to care .

Yet here he was, standing in Rin’s room, waiting for him to take medicine like it was some kind of obligation.

Rin let out a tired sigh, still refusing to move. “I’ll take it later.”

His brother didn’t budge. “Now.” and he actually has the nerve to frown at him.

Silence stretched between them. Rin was too drained to argue, but he also hated the idea of doing what Sae wanted just because Sae wanted it.

But then another shiver ran through him, and his stubbornness lost the battle.

Without a word, he slowly reached out from under the blanket, grabbed the water, and downed the medicine.

Satisfied, Sae turned to leave. “I’m making dinner later. Don’t die before then.”

He scoffed. “Not planning to.”

Sae shut the door behind him.

And despite the fever, despite how awful he felt—Rin found himself a little warmer than before.

Rin fell asleep again, and when he woke up, he was both hungry and nauseous—probably because he hadn't eaten all day. His body felt a little lighter now, but the discomfort lingered.

Before he could dwell on it, the door opened, and Sae walked in with a tray of food. The aroma hit him immediately—it smelled good, annoyingly so.

Sae sat on the edge of the bed, setting the tray down and picking up a spoon. It took Rin a second to realize what he was doing.

“…Are you trying to feed me?” Rin asked, looking at his brother in offense.

 “Obviously.” Sae’s expression remained unreadable.

He frowned. He wasn’t a kid. Sure, Sae used to do this when he got sick back then , but he was sixteen now. Which, by all means, counted as an adult.

“What?” Sae asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Are you trying to poison me?”

Sae’s deadpan look was immediate. “Eat, or I’ll shove it down your throat.”

Rin narrowed his eyes and, out of pure defiance, pulled the blanket over his head. His stomach, however, had other plans—growling loudly at the worst possible moment.

Then a sound of a long, tired sigh—one that carried the weight of someone who had dealt with Rin’s stubbornness for far too long.

“You’re so annoying,” he muttered, setting the tray on the nightstand.

Rin ignored him, staying buried under his blanket like it was his last line of defense. He wasn’t going to let Sae win this easily. But then the bed shifted, and before Rin could react, the blanket was yanked away in one swift motion.

“Hey—!” Rin barely had time to protest before Sae shoved a spoonful of food toward his mouth.

“Open.”

Rin glared. “I can feed myself.”

“Then do it,” Sae said, holding the spoon inches from Rin’s face.

Rin stared at him, then at the food, then back at him. His stomach growled again, louder this time, betraying him completely.

“…Fine.”

The bowl was handed to him without a word, watching as Rin reluctantly started eating.

The warmth of the food spread through his body, easing the nausea little by little. Sae leaned back slightly, arms crossed, as if waiting to see if Rin would actually finish. For a moment, it felt familiar. 

Like the way things used to be. Rin hated how comforting that thought was.

Once Rin finally finished eating, Sae reached out and ruffled his hair. The warmth of it was unexpected, but Rin didn’t pull away. He wouldn’t admit it, of course—but he let Sae’s hand linger, saying nothing.

Then, out of nowhere, Sae muttered, “You always get sick when it rains.”

Rin frowned, confused. “No, I don’t,” he said, dead serious.

Sae gave him a skeptical look, as if Rin had just said the most ridiculous thing imaginable. “Yes, you do.”

“Am not.”

Sae sighed—again. Rin was starting to think he did it just for dramatic effect. This time, his brother rolled his eyes, visibly annoyed. “You do. Why do you think Mom always got mad when we played in the rain?”

He scowled. “Are you saying it was my fault?” Now that was just unfair.

Sae tried to explain, claiming that Rin always got sick after playing in the rain. It was a pattern—one Rin had somehow never noticed.

“That’s ridiculous,” Rin scoffed. “I don’t get sick every time it rains.”

“You do,” Sae shot back without hesitation. “Every single time.”

They went back and forth, arguing over whether or not Rin had some kind of rain-related weakness. But in the end, Sae won—because he had the facts. Rin had always been more susceptible to the cold after getting drenched. It wasn’t anything dramatic, just… how he was. A little different. A little more sensitive to it than most.

Rin knew his genetics were weird —he’d heard enough about it. But being weak to rain ? That sounded ridiculous. And yet, the certainty in Sae’s voice made him waver.

“…So what, I’m cursed?” he muttered.

Sae huffed a quiet laugh. “No. You just need to eat and rest. You’re usually fine by the next day.”

He let that sink in. It was such a simple answer, but somehow, it made his chest feel lighter. He wasn’t fragile. He wasn’t broken. Just a little different.

Still, something about it unsettled him.

If Sae had noticed this about him for so long—what else did his brother know about him that he hadn’t even realized himself?

That thought lingered in Rin’s mind, leaving him oddly curious. Rin pulled his blanket up to his chin, scowling at nothing in particular. “…That’s dumb,” he mumbled, but the bite in his voice had disappeared.

 “It’s not dumb if it’s true.” Sae smirked slightly.

Clicked his tongue in annoyance, but he couldn’t fully ignore the nagging curiosity settling in his chest. He hesitated, debating whether or not to ask—because ugh , asking meant giving Sae the satisfaction of knowing he was right about something. But…

His fingers gripped the blanket a little tighter.

“…What else?” he muttered, almost too quietly to hear.

Sae blinked. “What?”

Turned his head away, pretending to be very interested in the corner of his blanket. “What else have you noticed? About me,” he clarified, already regretting it. His face felt a little warm, and he blamed the fever for that.

Sae hummed in thought, and that somehow made Rin even more embarrassed. He shouldn’t have asked. This was a mistake.

“You always fall asleep facing the door,” Sae finally said.

Rin frowned. “Huh?”

“When you sleep, you always turn toward the door. Even when you’re sick. Probably some habit from when we were kids.”

Rin blinked, processing that. He had never noticed that before.

“And,” Sae continued, smirking now, “you pretend you don’t like sweet things, but you always eat the strawberries off my plate when you think I’m not looking.”

Rin’s face burned. “ Shut up. ”

Sae chuckled. “What? You asked.”

“Yeah, well, I changed my mind,” Rin muttered, burying his face in the blanket. He regretted everything.

But despite his embarrassment, a small part of him felt… warm. It was stupid, really. But knowing that Sae still paid attention to him—even now—wasn’t the worst feeling in the world.

Rin grumbled something incoherent and turned onto his side, facing the door like Sae had pointed out— which he was definitely overthinking now, thanks a lot.

“Go away,” he mumbled, pulling the blanket over his head. “I’m sleeping.”

Sae didn’t argue for once. Rin heard him stand, the quiet creak of the floor as he moved toward the door.

Finally, some peace and his mind kept circling back to their conversation, the pieces slowly falling into place.

His brother had been sighing since the rain started. Rin had thought it was just his usual attitude—annoyance, impatience, whatever. But now he realized Sae knew . He had expected Rin to get sick before Rin even felt it himself.

Scowling as he whipered. "So that’s why you kept sighing all morning."

Sae, still at the door as he was about to leave, raised an eyebrow. "Took you long enough."

Clicked his tongue. "You could’ve just said something instead of acting like I’m some lost cause."

His brother shrugged. "Would you have listened?"

Rin opened his mouth to argue but then closed it again. Okay, maybe not. But still—

Coming out of his blanket, feeling strangely embarrassed. The idea that Sae noticed things about him that even he didn’t know was… unsettling.

“What else?” Rin asked, trying to sound disinterested. “What else do you know about me that I don’t?”

Sae didn’t answer immediately, which made Rin regret asking in the first place. But then—

"You clench your fists in your sleep when you're upset."

He blinked.

"Sometimes you even wake up with marks on your palms because of it," Sae added, voice unreadable. "You used to do it a lot.”

Rin stiffened. He hadn't expected that . His fingers twitched under the blanket, instinctively curling into his palm. Did he still do it? He had never noticed. But Sae had.

Swallowed, feeling an odd warmth settle in his chest. He wanted to say something—deny it, brush it off, anything —but his throat felt tight. Instead, he turned even further away, mumbling, "Tch. Whatever. I'm going to sleep."

Sae slipped behind the door. Just as he reached for the handle before making himself disappear, he glanced back.

"Oh, and you also talk in your sleep."

Rin's eyes snapped open. "I what—?"

But before he could fully sit up and demand an explanation, Sae shutting the door behind him.

Rin stared at the ceiling, mortified.

What the hell did he say in his sleep?

Sae has a habit of checking temperatures in the most casual, matter-of-fact way—like it’s just part of his routine. No thermometers, no asking if Rin feels better. Just a quiet action, as if it doesn’t even need to be acknowledged.

The next morning, Rin barely stirred when Sae pressed the back of his hand against his forehead.

It was quick, effortless, and so familiar that Rin almost didn’t think twice about it. But then, instead of pulling away, Sae shifted, placing his own forehead against Rin’s, his hand still resting between them.

It was a method Sae had always used—efficient, no fuss, no unnecessary words. Just a brief pause, a silent confirmation.

And then, just as easily as he had done it, he pulled away, muttering, "You're fine now. No excuses." before walking off like it never happened.

Chapter Text

Rin finally felt normal again by the time afternoon rolled around. 

His stomach no longer felt like a battlefield, and the lingering headache from yesterday had completely faded. Just like Sae had said—he got better by the next day.

From the kitchen, he could hear the occasional clatter of pots and the faint sizzling of something on the stove. Sae was probably cooking lunch for them. The sound was oddly comforting, a quiet reminder that things were back to normal.

Feeling lazy, Rin dropped himself onto the couch, sinking into the cushions with a sigh. He didn’t even bother turning on the TV, too comfortable in his current position. Instead, he grabbed his phone and swiped it open.

And that’s when he saw it.

382 unread messages.

Rin stared at the notification bar in horror. His family group chat had exploded while he was sick.

With growing dread, he tapped into the chat. The first thing he saw was his mother’s panicked messages from yesterday:

Mom: Rin, are you okay? Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?
Mom: Did you take medicine?
Mom: Sae, is he resting?
Mom: Answer me!
Mom: Why is no one replying?!

And then, Sae’s single, dry response from hours later:

Sae: He's fine.

Rin could practically hear their mom's frustration through the screen.

What followed was a chaotic mix of messages from different family members.

Mom: Sae, that is NOT an answer.
Dad: Drink warm water, Rin. Hope you feel better soon.
Mom: Rin, are you alive?!
Aunt: Oh no, is he sick? Give him some ginger tea!
Cousin 1: Lol rip.
Cousin 2: F in the chat.
Mom: WHY ARE YOU ALL LIKE THIS?

Rin sighed, rubbing his temples. No wonder his mom had called him twice yesterday—he never picked up because he had been asleep.

Just as he was about to type a response, another message popped up.

Mom: RIN I KNOW YOU’RE ONLINE, ANSWER ME.

Rin groaned and threw his phone onto the couch.

From the kitchen, Sae's voice came flatly, "What now?"

"Nothing," Rin muttered. He picked up his phone again, resigned to his fate, and started typing out a response before his mom decided to send a full essay.

Rin sighed and finally started typing.

Rin: I’m fine now.

He barely hit send before the typing bubbles appeared. Then—

Mom: FINALLY. Do you know how worried I was? You should have told me you were sick!
Mom: And why didn’t Sae say anything sooner?!

Rin side-eyed the kitchen, where Sae was casually stirring something in a pot like he hadn’t just left their mom in the dark for hours. He debated throwing him under the bus but decided against it.

Rin: I was sleeping most of the time.
Mom: And what about now?
Rin: …awake.

The typing bubbles popped up again, and Rin braced himself for another wall of text. Instead, the chat was suddenly bombarded with a series of images.

The first was an old childhood photo of Rin, bundled up in a ridiculous amount of blankets, cheeks flushed, and holding a thermometer in his mouth.

The second was even worse—one of him sleeping, mouth slightly open, his hair sticking out in all directions.

Mom: You always look like this when you’re sick. Still the same, I bet.

Rin’s face burned.

Cousin 1: LMAO he looks so miserable.
Cousin 2: Bro hasn’t changed since he was five.
Aunt: So cute! Get well soon, Rin!

Rin practically threw his phone onto the couch again.

From the kitchen, Sae turned the stove off and walked over, wiping his hands on a towel. "What’s with that face?"

"They sent old pictures of me," Rin muttered, rubbing his temples.

His brother raised a brow. "Ah." He pulled out his own phone, checked the chat, and let out a small scoff of amusement.

His stomach sank. "What?"

Sae tilted his phone so Rin could see. Another message had just been sent.

Mom: Here’s a video of Rin crying because he thought medicine was poison. He was six.

He lunged for the phone. "DELETE THAT—"

Sae, of course, was too fast. He easily dodged, shoving his phone into his pocket. "Nope. I’m keeping that."

Groning in frustration, sinking back into the couch in defeat. He should’ve just stayed asleep. Sae walked back to the kitchen with an annoyingly satisfied look. "Lunch is almost ready, by the way. Unless you’re too embarrassed to eat now."

Rin threw a pillow at him. His brother dodged without even looking.

By the time his phone buzzed again, Rin barely glanced at it, expecting another notification. But the moment he saw the caller ID, he groaned.

Mom.

For a second, he debated ignoring it. The last thing he needed was a lecture. But he knew better. With a resigned sigh, he picked up.

"Hello?"

"Itoshi Rin," his mother’s voice came sharp and direct. "Are you seriously just telling me now that you were sick?"

Of course.

Slumping further into the couch, he rubbed his temple. "I was sleeping."

"That’s not an excuse!" she huffed. "And Sae didn’t say anything either! That boy—"

A glance toward the kitchen showed Sae still busy preparing lunch, completely unfazed. He definitely heard her. Probably just choosing to ignore it.

"I’m fine now," Rin tried, hoping to cut the conversation short.

"You always say that," his mom shot back. "Last time, you ended up with a fever for three days—"

"That was years ago!"

"And you still act like a stubborn child!"

Before he could argue, another voice chimed in. "Rin, how are you feeling?"

Blinking, he sat up straighter. "Dad?"

"Your mother woke me up," his father replied, his tone much calmer. "She was panicking."

"I was not panicking," she immediately defended.

"You called me at five in the morning, dear."

Silence.

"That’s not the point," she eventually muttered before redirecting back to Rin. "And you! You should’ve told me yesterday."

"Wasn’t a big deal," he muttered.

"Everything about your health is a big deal!"

A quiet chuckle came from the other end. "You do look better now, though."

That made him pause. "Wait. What do you mean look ?"

Movement from the kitchen caught his eye. Sae, completely nonchalant, lifted his phone slightly.

It clicked.

"You sent them a picture?!"

No reaction. "They asked."

"You traitor!"

Unbothered as ever, Sae grabbed a plate and started setting the table. "Eat your lunch."

Meanwhile, their mother had moved on. "You do look better. But are you sure you don’t need more rest?"

"Yes," he grumbled, still shooting daggers at his brother.

His father hummed. "Well, if you’re feeling better, that’s good. But next time, tell us sooner."

"Yeah, yeah."

A brief pause, then their mom sighed. "And Sae, why didn’t you tell me first?"

"He wasn’t dying," came the flat response.

"That is not the standard for when you should tell me things."

Their dad sighed. "Alright, alright. He’s fine now, so let’s not turn this into another argument."

Even though she clearly wanted to keep going, their mom held back. "Fine. But Rin, if you feel even a little unwell again, you tell me."

"Okay."

"Good. Now go eat. And Sae, make sure he does."

The call ended before Rin could protest. With a groan, he collapsed against the couch, covering his face. "I hate both of you."

Sae, already sitting at the table, didn’t even blink. "Eat your lunch."

Muttering curses under his breath, Rin finally grabbed his chopsticks. His parents weren’t even home, and somehow, they still managed to gang up on him.

Next time, he was keeping his mouth shut.

Lunch was omelet rice. 

Decent enough, but the lingering irritation from earlier soured Rin’s mood. He sat at the table with a deep frown, picking at his food with a clear lack of enthusiasm.

Across from him, Sae didn’t miss the expression. His face twisted in disapproval. “Don’t be ungrateful in front of food.” Especially the one I made. He didn’t say it out loud, but Rin could hear it anyway. Not that he cared.

Rather than responding, he stabbed his spoon into the rice with unnecessary force, scooping up a large bite and chomping down aggressively.

A sigh came from Sae’s side of the table. Not unexpected. 

Rin barely spared him a glance, already anticipating the usual lecture, but instead, his brother just rolled his eyes and continued eating.

That should have been the end of it. Except now Rin was annoyed that Sae wasn’t annoyed.

So, with a huff, he exaggerated his own eye roll.

“How long are you going to act like this?” Sae finally asked, resting his spoon against his plate. His tone was flat, but there was a hint of impatience in his stare.

Rin didn’t answer right away. 

Instead, he stabbed at his omelet rice with unnecessary force, shoving another aggressive bite into his mouth like he was personally avenging something.

Across from him, Sae simply watched, unimpressed. "Seriously?"

Still chewing, Rin narrowed his eyes. He wasn’t really mad, not anymore. But at this point, dragging it out felt like principle. Besides, Sae being so unbothered just made him want to be more dramatic.

"Depends," he finally mumbled, shoveling another spoonful in.

Sae let out a slow, deep sigh, clearly reevaluating his life choices. "Depends on what?"

Swallowing, Rin leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. "On how long you keep being annoying."

That earned him a sharp look. "I’m annoying?"

"Yeah." He didn’t elaborate. Just went back to aggressively eating his food like it personally offended him.

Sae, on the other hand, took a calm bite of his own meal, not rising to the bait. It was infuriating.

A long stretch of silence passed, the only sound being the occasional clink of spoons against plates.

Finally, Sae spoke again. "You’re the one throwing a tantrum over a phone call."

"It wasn’t a tantrum."

"You were glaring at your rice like it committed a crime."

Rin scowled. "Shut up."

Sae hummed in clear amusement, then casually took another bite. "You’re welcome, by the way."

"For what?"

"For cooking."

He rolled his eyes again, but this time, there wasn’t much irritation behind it. His spoon scraped against the plate as he muttered, "Yeah, yeah. Thanks or whatever."

Sae gave him a flat look. "You have the worst attitude."

"And you have the worst personality."

Silence. Then, out of nowhere, his brother flicked a grain of rice at him.

It hit Rin square on the forehead.

The sheer audacity —

"You—"

Rin’s grip tightened around his spoon, the heat in his chest flaring.

But before he could fire back, Sae spoke again, completely unbothered. “I thought you weren’t one of those teenagers who go through a rebellious phase. You’ve always been an obedient kid. I don’t see what your problem is now.”

Rin blinked. “What—”

“And I thought that attitude was only reserved for football,” Sae continued, voice as even as ever. “But apparently, you’ve made it your entire personality to be a rebellious, emo teenager. Hopefully, you grow out of this phase.”

That was where he ended it. Just like that.

Rin, on the other hand, was reeling. Rebellious phase? Emo? Was Sae serious right now? As if he wasn’t the sole reason Rin turned out this way?

The urge to laugh bubbled up in Rin’s throat, but not out of amusement—out of sheer disbelief.

Was this really what Sae thought?

Did his brother genuinely believe that all of Rin’s frustrations, all of his anger, all of the years spent feeling like he was being cast aside… were just some teenage phase ? Not even something worth taking seriously?

All this time, Rin had thought Sae hated him. That he was a disappointment. That his own brother didn’t want him in his life anymore.

But if Sae never even saw them as fighting in the first place—then what did that make Rin’s feelings?

Nothing.

Like a blade twisting in his chest, the realization struck deeper than he was prepared for. His brother didn’t just disregard their rivalry—he didn’t even acknowledge it. Like fighting with Rin wasn’t even worth his attention.

He should yell. Scream at Sae. Demand to be taken seriously. But the truth was… he didn’t even have the energy for that.

Sitting there any longer would only make the dull ache in his chest grow worse. His expression remained hard, anger still furrowed in his brows, but he didn’t explode like Sae clearly expected him to. Instead, Rin pushed back his chair, leaving his half-eaten omurice on the table, and walked toward the front door.

Sae’s voice followed him. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Rin didn’t even glance back. He reached for the door, swinging it open. “None of your business!”

And then he slammed it shut behind him.

He made his way towards the only place that could bring him peace. Or rather, the only livinf being who could help him feel better.

After a few blocks and out of the neighborhood, he finally reached the outskirts of town, heading toward his grandmother’s house. No, it wasn’t her he was looking for.

Stepping into the courtyard, he barely took in the familiar sight of the traditional Japanese home. His eyes scanned the yard, searching for movement.

Pocchi should be here.

“Pocchi?” he called out, expecting the familiar sound of paws against the wooden deck.

Silence.

A small frown tugged at his lips. That was odd. Usually, Pocchi would hear his voice before he even stepped inside and come running, jumping on him like always.

But the yard remained still.

“Pocchi?” He tried again, walking along the wooden fence, his steps picking up pace.

And then he saw it.

A small stone, resting at the edge of a patch of fresh soil.

Rin’s steps came to an abrupt halt. His breath hitched as his gaze locked onto the name carved into the stone.

His brain refused to process it at first. His body felt detached, as if he were floating, waiting for someone to tell him this was a mistake.

But the name didn’t change. The stone didn’t disappear.

A cold weight pressed down on his chest, making it harder to breathe. His knees buckled, hitting the ground before he even realized it.

His fingers curled into the damp soil, his vision blurring.

Pocchi was gone.

Rin’s fingers curled into the fabric of his pants as he knelt before the small stone marker. His eyes traced the name carved into it, his mind struggling to make sense of what was in front of him. The air around him felt heavier, pressing down on his chest, making each breath harder to take.

Pocchi.

His Pocchi.

The realization settled in his gut like a boulder, dragging him down with it. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, too loud, too fast. His breaths came in short, shallow gasps, and his fingers trembled where they rested against the dirt.

When had this happened? How long had Pocchi been gone? Why didn’t he know?

His throat burned, but no tears fell. He refused to let them. He just sat there, unmoving, staring at the small grave, unable to do anything else.

Then, a creak. The rustling of footsteps on grass.

Rin barely registered it at first, his head too fogged up to care. But then—

A sharp inhale. A gasp, small but filled with unmistakable shock.

“Rin-chan… wait, you didn’t know?”

His head jerked up.

His grandmother stood there, just a few steps away, her hand covering her mouth. Her eyes flickered between him and the grave, realization dawning in them.

Rin swallowed hard, blinking rapidly before rubbing his sleeve across his face, erasing any sign of unshed tears before she could see.

But she had already seen enough.

Her expression softened, guilt and regret replacing the shock. “Oh, Rin-chan…”

The warmth in her voice made something inside him twist. The ache in his chest only grew stronger.

He wanted to ask, When? How? Why didn’t anyone tell me?

But no words came out. His throat felt too tight, the weight in his chest pressing harder.

Rin sat inside his grandmother’s house, staring blankly at the low wooden table in front of him. A cup of tea sat untouched between his hands, the steam curling softly into the air. The house smelled the same as always—green tea, aged wood. But today, the scent felt distant, like a memory slipping through his fingers.

Because Pocchi wasn’t here.

The absence weighed on him, heavier than he expected. Usually, whenever frustration knotted in his chest, he had someone to turn to—someone who would listen without judgment, who would let him vent everything he bottled up inside. Pocchi had always been there for him. And now, there was no one.

His gaze wandered until it landed on the cabinet across the room. A picture frame sat there, slightly tilted. Without thinking, he got up and reached for it.

The photo was old, the colors slightly faded from time. A five-year-old Rin grinned up at the camera, his arms wrapped tightly around a small, scruffy puppy. Pocchi, still just a baby back then, had fit snugly in his hold. It had been the day he and Sae found him—alone in a box, abandoned on the side of the road on their way home.

Sae had been the one to suggest bringing him here, to their grandmother’s house. Rin had wanted to take him home, but they both knew their mother wouldn’t allow it. In the end, this was the best option. And for years, it had worked.

He traced his finger over the glass, following the outline of Pocchi’s small form.

The sun outside was already dipping, painting the sky orange. How long had he been sitting here?

Soft footsteps approached, and then a familiar voice broke the silence.

“Pocchi went because of cancer.”

Rin looked up as his grandmother placed another cup of tea on the table. Her voice was gentle, but there was a quiet grief in it, as if she still wasn’t used to saying it out loud.

“We tried to save him, but it was too late.”

His fingers tightened around the frame. “…When?” His voice was quiet, slow.

His grandmother sighed. “The day before your match.”

Rin stilled.

“I told your mother,” she continued. “But I suppose she didn’t want to worry you with the news before your game.”

He nodded absently, setting the frame back down. His grip felt loose, unsteady.

There was no sharp pain. No rush of emotions. Just hollowness.

Like something inside him had quietly cracked, and he wasn’t sure if he even had the strength to piece it back together.

Rin’s grandmother handed him the yellow scarf, and the moment his fingers brushed against the fabric, he recognized it instantly.

It was Pocchi’s favorite—the one it always curled up with whenever it wanted to sleep. Technically, the scarf had been his first, but he had never minded that Pocchi claimed it as its own. Seeing it now, folded neatly in his grandmother’s hands, made something in his chest tighten painfully.

Rin took it without a word.

His grandmother hesitated, her eyes filled with quiet concern. She reached out as if to comfort him, but Rin only nodded, barely acknowledging the gesture, before turning away.

The walk home felt like a blur. He wasn’t thinking—just moving, one foot after the other, until he found himself standing in front of his house. He stepped inside. It was quiet. Sae wasn’t in sight.

Good.

Rin silently made his way to his room, shutting the door behind him. He didn’t bother turning on the lights. The faint glow from the streetlamp outside filtered through his window, casting soft shadows across the walls. It was enough.

He sat at the edge of his bed, fingers tightening around the scarf. The fabric was soft, warm. It smelled clean—his grandmother must have washed it.

Slowly, Rin slid down until he was on the floor, his back against the bed. He curled his arms around the scarf, pressing it close.

And then—

The dam broke.

Tears fell, silent and unstoppable, rolling down his cheeks as he squeezed his eyes shut. He bit his lip, trying to stifle the sobs, but his shoulders trembled with the force of everything he had been holding in.

Pocchi was gone.

And suddenly, it felt like a part of him had gone with it.

The quiet of his room pressed in around him, the only sound the ragged, uneven breaths he couldn't seem to control. His tears soaked into the scarf, warm and endless, as if his body was trying to wring out every last bit of grief all at once.

Pocchi was gone. It wasn’t just the words—it was the weight of them, sinking deeper and deeper into his chest with every shuddering inhale.

He could still remember the first time he saw the tiny shiba inu in that battered old cardboard box, huddled against the cold. It had looked up at him with big, dark eyes, too tired to even whimper. 

He’d scooped it up without thinking, cradling it against his chest as if he could shield it from the world.

Sae had been the one to suggest bringing it to their grandmother’s house. "Mom won’t let us keep it," he had said, tone flat as ever, but Rin had caught the tiny flicker of softness in his brother’s expression when he gently stroked the puppy’s head.

That had been years ago. And now, Pocchi wasn’t here anymore.

Rin gritted his teeth, pressing the scarf harder against his face. His chest ached, his throat raw from the effort of suppressing his sobs. 

It felt unfair—so, so unfair. Pocchi had always been there, through every frustration, every heartbreak. When he didn’t know how to talk about his feelings, Pocchi had simply listened, curling up beside him like an unspoken promise that he wasn’t alone.

But now—

Rin swallowed hard, squeezing his eyes shut. He was alone now.

The tears didn’t stop. They wouldn’t stop.

Minutes blurred into hours, the weight of exhaustion settling into his limbs, but his body refused to rest. Even as he sat curled against his bed, hugging the scarf like it was the only thing tethering him to the present, the grief wouldn't let go.

The clock on his nightstand glowed faintly in the dark.

3:00 AM.

His breaths had turned shallow, hiccuping slightly as the last remnants of his cries left him feeling hollow. His body ached, his face damp and warm from hours of silent weeping.

At some point, without realizing it, his exhaustion finally won.

Still gripping the scarf, Rin closed his swollen eyes and drifted into sleep—his dreams heavy with the weight of something missing.

When the bright light from the sun dipped into his room, Rin woke up.

He didn’t know the time, but he knew his eyes felt heavy, his body aching from staying in the same position for hours. His arms were still curled around the yellow scarf, the fabric soft against his fingers, but all it did was remind him of the painful truth.

Pocchi was gone.

Rin had no heart to move. He blinked slowly, his chest hollow, and let out a quiet sigh.

Then, a knock came from his door. Even without a call, he knew who it was. Who else could it be?

Without warning, the door clicked open. Rin didn’t react. Whatever Sae was saying blurred into meaningless noise as Rin stared blankly ahead, the world around him feeling distant.

“—can’t you get out—Rin?” Sae’s voice finally sharpened, his footsteps moving further into the room.

Rin didn’t look up. He was hunched against the bed on the floor, arms wrapped tightly around the scarf.

Sae stopped beside him. “What happened?”

The question shattered what little control Rin had left. His vision blurred as fresh tears welled up, spilling over before he could stop them. His chest tightened, his breath hitched, and he clenched the scarf harder against him.

A quiet sob escaped before he could swallow it down.

The next thing Rin felt was warmth as Sae sat beside him.

Rin hid his face between his knees, but the sobs didn’t stop. His body shook with each breath, the pain raw and overwhelming.

“Mom didn’t tell you?” Sae’s voice was slow, careful.

Rin’s breath hitched. He looked up, his tear-swollen eyes locking onto his brother. His expression twisted with disbelief, his voice cracking.

“You knew…”

More tears came, burning down his cheeks, followed by the sharp edge of anger.

“You knew!”

“Rin, calm down—”

“Why did everyone know but me!?” Rin screamed, his voice thick with grief and betrayal. “He was my friend! And yet I’m the only one who didn’t know!?”

His hands trembled as he smashed the scarf onto the ground. Then, before he could stop himself, his fists met Sae’s chest, pounding weakly against him.

“Why!?” Rin choked, each hit more desperate than the last. “Why!?”

Sae didn’t move, didn’t stop him. He just let Rin hit him, the force of the blows nothing compared to the weight of Rin’s pain.

Then, the punches slowed. Rin’s fingers curled into Sae’s shirt instead, gripping tightly, his whole body trembling. His voice broke into a whisper, raw and aching.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me…”

For once, Sae’s usually unbothered expression crumbled. His lips pressed into a thin line, his brows furrowed with something close to regret.

Then, without a word, he pulled Rin into his arms.

Rin didn’t resist. The moment Sae’s arms wrapped around him, the dam broke again. He buried his face into his brother’s shoulder, sobbing uncontrollably.

Sae’s voice was steady, but there was a rare softness to it.

“I was there in his last moments.”

Rin didn’t react at first, just kept crying into his brother’s shoulder, his hands still clenched into Sae’s shirt.

“The doctor had to put him to sleep…” Sae continued carefully. “I showed him your picture as he left.”

Rin tensed. His breath hitched, but he didn’t lift his head.

“Pocchi was smiling.”

That was what broke him.

A strangled sob tore from his throat, his body curling inward as if trying to shield himself from the unbearable pain. His fingers clutched at Sae tighter, like he was afraid to let go, afraid of the truth that was already sinking too deep.

Sae’s hand rested on the back of Rin’s head, steady and firm. He didn’t say anything at first, just let Rin cry, let him grieve in the only way he knew how.

Then, after a moment, his voice came again, quiet but certain.

“He lived a happy life, with you as his friend.”

Rin shook his head, tears soaking into Sae’s shoulder. The words were meant to comfort him, but right now, they only made his chest ache more.

Because Pocchi had been more than just a friend.

He had been the one constant in Rin’s life. The one who listened without judgment. The one who was always there, no matter how frustrated, lost, or broken Rin felt.

And now he was gone.

Irrevocably, painfully gone.

And Rin didn’t even get to say goodbye.

The living room was quiet, aside from the low hum of the television. Chibi Maruko-chan played on the screen, bright and colorful, but it barely registered. The scent of warm food lingered in the air, but nothing felt appetizing.

A plate of omurice was placed on the table, steam rising from the freshly heated leftovers. “You need to eat,” Sae said, voice steady yet gentle.

No appetite. No energy. Just an empty feeling stretching through every part of his body.

The scrape of a spoon against the plate cut through the silence. A bite was lifted toward him, waiting. No words, no impatience—just quiet insistence.

It took a moment, but eventually, Rin leaned forward and accepted the food. The taste barely registered at first. Swallowing felt like a chore. But when another bite was offered, he took that one too.

No one spoke. No one had to.

Halfway through the meal, his vision blurred. Warmth slipped down his cheek before he even realized he was crying again. The spoon paused, and then—fingertips brushed his skin, wiping the tear away without a word.

No judgment. No sigh of annoyance. Just the simple, unspoken comfort of an older brother who cared.

The plate slowly emptied, bite by bite. It wasn’t much, but it was something. The warmth of the food settled in his stomach, dulling the ache just a little.

Sae didn’t say anything as he set the spoon down, only leaning back against the couch. The TV flickered, its cheerful voices and bright colors filling the silence between them. Rin barely paid attention, eyes unfocused as the weight of exhaustion pressed down on him again.

A sigh came from beside him. “You should get some rest.”

Rest. It sounded nice, but the thought of lying alone in his room, surrounded by nothing but his own thoughts, made his chest tighten.

He didn’t respond. Just sat there, knees pulled close, arms still curled around the scarf like it was the only thing holding him together.

Sae didn’t push. Instead, a hand landed on his head, ruffling his already messy hair in that familiar, careless way. “Stay here if you want,” was all he said.

There was no teasing, no remarks about being pathetic, no lecture about crying over a dog. Just quiet understanding.

And for once, Rin didn’t argue. He let his head drop against Sae’s shoulder, staring blankly at the screen as the next episode of Chibi Maruko-chan started playing.

It didn’t fix anything. Didn’t bring Pocchi back. But somehow, just for a little while, it was warm.

Sae didn’t move, and Rin didn’t either. 

The weight in his chest remained, heavy and unshifting, but the warmth at his side grounded him. His fingers absently tightened around the scarf, the fabric soft and familiar. The scent of fresh laundry clung to it, but it wasn’t the same. 

It would never be the same.

A deep breath. 

Then another. 

His body felt sluggish, weighed down by exhaustion that ran deeper than just a sleepless night. The last thing he wanted was to think—to remember—but it was impossible to ignore the hollow space Pocchi had left behind.

Sae shifted slightly. “You falling asleep?”

Rin blinked, realizing his eyes had drifted shut at some point. He wasn’t sure if he was tired or just… drained. Either way, moving seemed like too much effort.

“Don’t wanna go to my room,” he mumbled, voice thick.

Sae didn’t answer right away, but he didn’t need to. A moment later, the arm resting against the couch moved, pressing lightly against Rin’s head in an almost absentminded gesture. “Then don’t.”

No teasing. No complaints. Just quiet acceptance.

Maybe it was the exhaustion, or maybe it was the weight of everything catching up to him, but Rin let his body relax against his brother’s side, eyes slipping shut once more.

The TV continued playing, the voices blending into a low hum in the background. The warmth beside him never left.

And for the first time since yesterday, the heaviness in his chest felt just a little easier to bear.

Chapter Text

Leaning against the couch in the living room, Rin absentmindedly scrolled through Instagram, his thumb moving lazily over the screen. After everything that happened yesterday, he found himself tearing up every time a video of a puppy or a dog popped up on his feed.

Another post—a dog happily munching on a treat. His throat tightened. Pocchi used to do that too.

With a frustrated sniffle, he shut off his phone and let out a long sigh, staring up at the ceiling. He hated this. Hated how easily his emotions crept up on him, how little control he had over them once they did. 

He rarely cried and could count the times on one hand. 

But when he did, it was never just a few stray tears. It was always overwhelming, a full-body kind of grief that drained him completely.

Maybe that was why he held back so much. Because once it started, it felt impossible to stop. And maybe... he hated that about himself.

Another sigh left him. His body felt heavy, exhaustion lingering even after a full night’s sleep. 

Still, he stuck to his usual routine this morning—an early jog, a shower, opening his window to let the air in, even finishing his yoga session. Maybe all of that, combined with the weight of his emotions, was why he felt so sleepy now.

At least Sae wasn’t dragging him anywhere today. 

For once, he had a quiet morning to himself. The weather was warm but not too hot, just the way he liked it. Curling up on the small couch, he bent his knees slightly, resting on his side. The fabric was soft, comfortable. A moment of peace, finally.

His eyes drifted shut.

Then—

A smell hit his nose.

His eyes snapped open.

Something was burning in the kitchen.

The realization jolted Rin awake, his body moving on instinct as he hurried toward the kitchen.

Smoke filled the air, thick and suffocating, and at the center of it all stood Sae—frozen in front of the oven. Or rather, in front of what was now a burning oven. The sight was so absurd that for a split second, Rin almost couldn’t process it. Sae, his usually composed brother, was standing there, completely still, eyes locked on the flames like he couldn’t quite believe what was happening.

He was standing too close.

Rin didn’t have time to dwell on it. In one swift motion, he yanked open the cabinet, grabbed the fire extinguisher, pulled the pin, and aimed. A loud burst of white foam engulfed the flames, and within moments, the fire was gone.

Crisis averted. House intact. Potentially life-saving intervention? Done.

More importantly, he had just spared them both from their mother’s inevitable worried nagging. The mere thought of that made him shiver more than the fire itself.

With the immediate danger out of the way, Rin turned to Sae, still slightly breathless. “What the heck did you do!?”

Sae, now completely back to his usual composed self, met his glare with an unreadable expression. The previous shock had disappeared entirely, replaced by his signature indifference—like he hadn’t just nearly burned down the house.

“I tried to make Kunafeh,” he said, completely unfazed.

Rin stared.

“…You what?”

The two of them stood in silence, staring at the charred remains of the oven. Smoke still lingered faintly in the air, a reminder of how close they had been to disaster.

In the middle of it all stood the oven—charred, lifeless, and beyond saving.

A small, almost childish pout formed on Sae’s lips. “Well. That didn’t go as planned.”

Rin turned to him, deadpan. “No kidding.”

They had just bought the ingredients the other day, all because Sae had decided, on a whim, that he wanted to make Kunafeh. It was supposed to be a simple idea, yet somehow, it had ended in flames—literally.

Without hesitation, Sae offered a solution. “We’ll just buy a new one.”

“No?” The response was instant. Rin frowned, already feeling a headache forming. “That oven was a birthday present from dad to mom two years ago.”

A raised brow. “So? We’ll get the same brand. It wouldn’t be any different.”

Frustration simmered beneath the surface. “It would be different.” Rin motioned toward the soot-covered exterior. “That oven has both their signatures on it.”

It wasn’t something he expected anyone to understand, not even Sae. Their parents had this odd habit of signing gifts to each other, as if putting their names on something made it more meaningful. Even if Rin didn’t fully get it, he knew better than to pretend it didn’t matter.

Sae gave the oven another glance, as if only now realizing what he had just ruined.

Silence stretched between them until Rin narrowed his eyes. “Wait… Weren’t you forbidden from using the oven?”

“That was years ago.”

“Mom still forbids you.”

No reaction. Just that same unreadable expression.

A sigh pushed past Rin’s lips as he crossed his arms. “For the record, this is the fourth time the oven’s been burned in this house.” He gave his brother a pointed look. “And all four times? Because of you. ”

Sae tilted his head slightly, considering the fact. Then, with zero shame or remorse, he muttered, “Huh.”

Rin pinched the bridge of his nose. “You can’t just ‘huh’ your way out of this.”

Sae, completely unfazed, pulled out his phone. “I’ll order a replacement.”

“No, you won’t.”

A beat of silence. Then, lazily, Sae glanced up. “Why not?”

Rin gestured to the scorched mess in front of them. “Because Mom will know. ” He exhaled sharply, already dreading the inevitable. “Did you forget how long she nagged you last time?”

Memories of their mother’s frustrated lectures resurfaced. The last oven incident had resulted in a thirty-minute rant about responsibility, followed by a strict kitchen ban that, evidently, Sae had chosen to ignore.

“That was years ago,” Sae repeated, as if that excused everything.

“Doesn’t matter,” Rin shot back. “You’re still the same person who burned the oven four times.”

Sae shrugged. “Technically, I burned three. The second time was an accident.”

Rin stared at him. “ They were all accidents. ”

That earned him nothing but another indifferent glance before Sae scrolled through his phone again.

Rin wanted to scream. “You’re not actually trying to replace it, are you?”

“Do you want to be the one to explain this to Mom?”

That shut him up for a second. Rin really didn’t want to have that conversation. But at the same time, covering it up with a new oven wasn’t going to work. Mom wasn’t dumb. She’d know.

And once again, Rin would somehow get dragged into this mess.

“…We’re doomed,” he muttered, rubbing his temples.

Sae hummed, still scrolling. “Maybe.”

Rin took a step back, shaking his head. “You know what? This is your problem. Don’t drag me into it.” He gestured vaguely at the burnt oven, then turned on his heel, ready to leave. Whatever happened next wasn’t his concern.

Before he could take a full step, a firm grip landed on his shoulder. “You’ll help me,” Sae said, voice as calm as ever.

He scoffed, barely sparing him a glance. “No. You got yourself into this mess.”

Sae didn’t argue, which was already suspicious. Instead, he stood there, perfectly still, as if weighing his next move. A few seconds passed in silence, long enough for Rin to feel uneasy.

He frowned. “…What?”

Familiar green eyes blinked at him, face unreadable, before casually saying, “If you don’t help, I might have to tell Mom about the broken mirror.”

Rin’s stomach twisted. “What broken mirror?”

“The one in her study.”

His blood ran cold. That incident had happened when Rin was 11 years old . He had knocked over a ball inside the house—something he wasn’t supposed to do—and sent it flying straight into their mom’s precious mirror. He managed to collect all the pieces, buried it, and prayed she would never noticed. 

Also the mirror was a present from an old friend that had already passed away. She hadn’t said anything, but sometimes still wondered where her mirror had gone?  which meant the cover-up had worked. But if Sae knew —

Rin narrowed his eyes. “You have no proof.”

Sae looked unimpressed. “I knew where you buried it. And I might still have the ball, with your name on it.”

Rin clenched his jaw, mentally cursing. His brother didn’t bluff. If he said he had evidence, then he did. There was no getting out of this one.

Dragging a hand down his face, Rin groaned. “You are the worst. ”

Sae smirked. “So you’ll help?”

There was no point in fighting it. “Fine,” Rin muttered, glaring. “But only because I don’t feel like dealing with Mom’s wrath.”

Satisfied, Sae turned back to the oven. “Good choice.”

After a lot of thinking, getting someone else to deal with the mess seemed like the best option. Neither of them had the patience—or the skills—to fix a burnt oven, so they headed to a local appliance store.

The repair guy inspected the damage, tilting his head slightly as he ran his fingers along the edges. “This is gonna take some time,” he finally said. “Maybe around two weeks.”

That wasn’t going to work.

Rin exhaled through his nose, already calculating the problem. Another week and he’d be back at Blue Lock. Sae would be on a flight to Spain right after. If they didn’t get it fixed before then, they wouldn’t have to deal with the consequences—but their mom would, and that was a nightmare neither of them wanted.

Sae, ever the solutionist, barely hesitated. “I’ll double the price. Make it three days.”

Rin whistled under his breath. Must be nice having that kind of money to throw around.

The guy looked tempted, arms crossed as he considered the offer. But then, instead of agreeing, he grinned. “Sure,” he said. “But on one condition.”

Sae raised a brow. “Which is?”

The man pointed at him. “A picture.”

Under his cap, sunglasses, and mask, Sae remained unreadable. Meanwhile, Rin—who hadn’t bothered with any disguise—just stared, waiting for him to refuse.

The guy chuckled. “Come on. You’re both Itoshis. You—” he gestured at Rin, “—are the captain of Blue Lock Eleven. Obviously, that makes you —” he turned to Sae, “—Japan’s football prodigy. Treasure. So yeah, I want a picture. With both of you.”

The brothers exchanged looks. Neither particularly cared, but if it meant getting the oven fixed faster, it was a small price to pay. Without a word, Sae pulled down his mask and took off the sunglasses.

The repairman held up his phone, grinning as he positioned them for a selfie—Rin on his right, Sae on his left. “Smile.”

Neither of them did.

The guy took the picture anyway.

And just like that, their problem was now his problem to fix.

With their oven crisis officially someone else’s responsibility, the brothers took the long way home, walking along the shore. The evening air was cool, the scent of saltwater carried in the breeze. Waves rolled gently against the sand, and for once, there was no rush to be anywhere.

Rin kicked a stray pebble, watching it bounce ahead before disappearing into the sand. “You really just threw money at the problem.”

Sae, hands in his pockets, barely glanced at him. “And it worked.”

“Yeah, after you sold your dignity for a selfie.”

A small scoff. “Not the worst price I’ve paid.”

Rin wrinkled his nose. “What’s the worst?”

“Letting you exist.”

The retort was immediate. “Screw you.”

Sae smirked, but didn’t push further. They walked in silence for a bit, the only sound between them the rhythm of the waves and their footsteps against the wooden planks of the boardwalk.

Rin stole a glance at him. “You ever think about moving back?”

The question hung in the air for a moment.

“No,” Sae answered simply.

No hesitation, no second thought.

Rin didn’t know why he asked. Maybe because the day felt… normal. Maybe because, despite everything, walking side by side like this felt familiar. But he wasn’t stupid. He knew Sae belonged elsewhere.

“You?” Sae asked, turning it back on him.

“I dunno.” Rin rolled his shoulders. “Blue Lock is different. It’s not like home, but I don’t hate it.”

Sae hummed, like he wasn’t surprised. “You like having a goal to chase. Makes sense.”

Rin wasn’t sure if that was meant as a compliment, but he took it anyway.

They walked a little longer, the city lights glowing in the distance. Eventually, Rin sighed. “You’re still paying for the repair, right?”

“Obviously.”

A pause. Then, casually, Sae added, “With your allowance.”

Rin stopped walking. “What—?! No way!”

“Should’ve read the fine print before agreeing to help.” Sae kept moving, completely unbothered. Rin groaned before jogging to catch up. “I swear to god, you’re actually the worst.”

His brother just smirked. “And yet, here you are.”

Rin muttered something under his breath, but didn’t argue. The shore stretched ahead, and despite the grumbling, neither of them minded the walk home. 

Narrowing his eyes. “Wait—you’re joking, right?”

Sae didn’t answer right away, letting Rin stew in mild panic before finally sighing. “Of course I’m joking. Do you think I need your allowance?”

Rin exhaled, muttering, “I wouldn’t put it past you.”

A smirk tugged at Sae’s lips. “If I actually wanted to mess with you, I’d have made you sign a contract first.”

Rin scoffed, kicking at the sand. “Yeah, right. As if I’d ever sign anything you hand me.”

Sae hummed. “Smart. You’d probably end up selling your soul.”

Rin rolled his eyes, but the conversation had lost its edge. It was easy, effortless, the way they bantered. No tension, no grudges—just the tide coming in and retreating again.

They kept walking, the sunlights growing brighter as they neared home. 

The whole oven disaster already felt like something to laugh about later. Rin glanced at his brother, shaking his head.

The walk back was quiet.

When they passed by the old haunted house—the same one Rin had entered alone just a few days ago—he felt something tighten in his chest.

In daylight, the place looked less menacing, just another abandoned building with peeling paint and boarded-up windows. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing that should make his skin prickle the way it did.

But it had been bothering him since that night.

Rin knew he was sensitive—not in the usual way, not in the way people would expect from him. His body was tough, his endurance strong, but there was something else, something only he knew. A fact he never shared. Not even with Sae.

His gaze flickered toward the house, and yes. It was there.

He had gotten good at ignoring it. He was used to ignoring it. But lately, it felt like it was getting worse.

“What are you looking at?” Sae’s voice cut through his thoughts.

Rin quickly shook his head and kept walking.

It was better to keep ignoring it.

The feeling didn’t leave him, even after they passed the house. Rin kept his expression neutral, his steps steady, but deep down, something gnawed at him.

It wasn’t just the haunted house. That was just where it got worse.

He saw them sometimes—shadows that shouldn’t be there, shifting at the edge of his vision. Dark figures standing where no one stood. At home, in the corner of a room, behind doors, in reflections that didn’t match reality. Faint, barely noticeable, but there.

Rin never reacted. He never turned his head, never acknowledged them. He had learned early on that if he ignored them, they wouldn’t do anything. Wouldn’t move. Wouldn’t reach out.

Most of the time, it worked.

But lately… it had been harder.

The shadows lingered longer. Stood closer.

And he hated how it made him feel—this creeping unease, the weight pressing against his senses. He didn’t believe in ghosts. Not really. But he couldn’t explain what he saw, either.

So he did what he always did.

He ignored it.

But then Rin froze for a split second before forcing himself to move again, pretending like he saw nothing.

He was used to this. Had been since he was a kid. No one believed him, not even when he tried to explain. People just called him weird. And Rin already was weird enough—he didn’t need to add “sees ghosts” to the list. 

So he stopped talking about it. Stopped acknowledging it. Stopped reacting.

It was easier that way.

Ghosts—spirits, whatever they were—were everywhere. They existed in a separate realm, unseen by humans, yet fully aware of them. But somehow, Rin could see them. 

It wasn’t a gift, wasn’t some cool supernatural ability. 

It was a nuisance. A problem he had learned to ignore. Because the moment they knew he could see them , it got worse.

And now, it was getting worse.

Ever since the haunted house, one had followed him home. Lurking in the corners, waiting in the halls. Unlike the others, this one refused to leave. It had started to push the boundaries, getting closer. And now, standing right next to Sae, it was watching him.

Rin swallowed.

He knew the rules. The best paranormal stories, the urban legends, all said the same thing—if it touched you, if it made contact, then it was already bad.

And for the first time in years, he wasn’t sure if he could ignore it anymore.

That slight touch on his shoulder this morning—he’d thought it was Sae. A casual, absentminded gesture. But when he turned, his brother wasn’t even near him.

Rin had jumped, completely out of character, and forced himself to brush it off. To pretend it didn’t happen. But it did. And now the shadow was still here, unmoving beside Sae, as if waiting.

He forced his gaze elsewhere, focusing on the TV screen where the theme song of Chibi Maruko-chan was playing. Sae, completely unaware, leaned back into the couch, flipping through the channels with little interest.

“Why do you keep staring at the wall?” Sae’s voice cut through the silence.

Rin stiffened. He hadn’t even realized.

“…I’m not,” he muttered, shifting his weight, making a show of stretching like he was just tired. He walked toward the kitchen, needing an excuse to move, to do anything but stand there.

Sae hummed, unimpressed, but didn’t push.

Rin exhaled slowly. If the shadow hadn’t done anything yet, maybe— maybe —he could still ignore it. Maybe it would just disappear.

Rin stepped into the kitchen, one foot past the threshold—

And turned right into the horrifying face of a ghost.

Pale, sunken eyes. Twisted mouth. The kind of face straight out of a horror movie, except this one wasn’t behind a screen. It was right there .

“ ARGHHHHH !!!!” Rin screamed. Loud. No shame, no restraint, pure survival instinct.

A blur of movement—Sae burst into the kitchen, his usual bored expression now actually replaced with concern. "What the hell—"

But by the time Rin whipped his head around, the ghost was already gone.

Silence stretched between them. Rin, heart pounding, breathing hard. Sae, standing at the doorway, staring at him like he’d grown two heads.

“…Did you just scream?”

Rin scowled, still trying to steady himself. "No."

Sae blinked. " No ?" His lips twitched. "Then what was that?"

"A reflex."

"A reflex," Sae repeated, deadpan.

Rin grabbed a glass of water just to do something with his hands. He wasn’t about to explain himself. Absolutely not.

Sae crossed his arms, unimpressed. "You saw a cockroach or something?"

Took a slow sip, forcing himself to look unaffected. "Yeah. Something like that."

Sae snorted. "Pathetic." Then, shaking his head, he turned to leave. "At least kill it next time instead of screaming like a kid."

Rin let out a breath, ignoring the way his hand still trembled slightly.

A cockroach, huh?

If only.

Later that night, Rin sat stiffly on the couch, eyes darting between the TV and his brother. Sae was comfortably lounging, one arm resting on the back of the sofa, lazily watching Chibi Maruko-chan again like he didn’t have a single care in the world.

Rin, on the other hand, was on high alert. Because it was still here.

The ghost stood near Sae, lurking just behind the couch. It wasn’t doing anything—yet. But Rin had learned his lesson. If it could touch him once, it could touch him again. And now, for some reason, it was way too interested in his brother.

He had to keep stopping it.

The first time, Sae reached for the remote, and Rin, spotting a shadowy hand creeping toward his brother’s shoulder, immediately smacked the remote out of his grip.

It clattered to the floor.

Sae slowly turned his head to look at him, blank-faced. "…What was that?"

Cleared his throat. "Reflex."

His brother’s face frowned, bending down to grab the remote again.

The second time, Sae stretched his arms above his head, and Rin saw the ghost lean way too close, as if trying to whisper something. Panic surged through him. Instinct took over.

So Rin did the first thing that came to mind—he threw a pillow.

It hit Sae square in the face.

A long silence followed.

Sae, now holding the pillow, stared at him. Flat. Expressionless. Judging.

"…Did you just throw a pillow at me?"

Rin clenched his jaw. "Yeah."

"Why?"

"You were stretching too much. It was annoying."

Sae gave him the most unimpressed look in existence. " You’re annoying."

The third time, Sae actually got up and stretched, walking toward the kitchen. The ghost moved, following him.

Rin bolted after him.

Sae barely stepped past the counter before Rin grabbed his wrist and yanked him back. Stumbled slightly, blinking at him. "What now?"

"…You were about to step on a, uh. A wet spot," Rin lied, even though the floor was completely dry.

His brother gave him a long, searching look. Then sighed. " Seriously , what is wrong with you today?"

Rin couldn't even answer. Because over Sae’s shoulder, he could see the ghost again—watching him, head tilted.

Yeah. This was getting worse.

Sae gave up questioning him after that, though he did shoot the occasional side-eye in Rin’s direction. 

They made it through dinner without incident, but the moment Sae got up to grab a drink, the ghost followed. Rin tensed. This was getting ridiculous. The thing wasn’t just lurking anymore—it was moving . Sticking close. Hovering like it was waiting for the right moment to pull something.

He wasn’t about to let that happen.

The moment Sae reached for a glass, Rin rushed forward and slammed the cabinet shut before he could grab one.

There was a beat of silence. Then a slow turn of the head.

Sae’s expression was unreadable. " Why. "

"You don’t need water," Rin said quickly. "You barely drink enough for hydration to matter anyway."

Another long, unimpressed stare. " I decide if I need water or not."

"…Well, you don’t."

He was this close to getting punched.

Instead, Sae gave him a flat look and yanked the cabinet open again. But as he pulled out a glass, the ghost shifted—Rin swore he saw it move toward Sae’s hand.

Without thinking, Rin smacked the glass away. It shattered against the counter.

Sae inhaled sharply. " What the hell is wrong with you? "

Rin scrambled for an excuse. " It slipped! "

" You hit it out of my hand! "

"Yeah, because it was gonna slip! "

They stared each other down. Sae’s eye twitched. For a second, Rin thought he was going to dropkick him. But then Sae exhaled sharply, rubbing his temple like dealing with Rin was physically painful.

"You clean this up ," he muttered, stepping away. "I don’t have the patience for your stupidity today."

As he walked off, the ghost lingered by the counter. Rin glared at it, jaw clenched. This thing was getting bolder. And if Sae kept looking at him like he was the crazy one, he was going to lose his mind first.

Rin clenched his jaw, fingers gripping the edge of the counter. 

"Alright, enough already. What do you want?" His voice was low but firm, directed at the shadowy figure lingering near the sink. "You’ve been following me around for days, creeping in corners, messing with my house—why?" His eyes narrowed. "And stay away from my brother."

The ghost didn’t respond. It only tilted its head, shifting slightly as if amused.

Rin exhaled through his nose. "Oh, so now you’re quiet? After all that lurking?" He rubbed his temples, already regretting engaging with it. "You could at least be useful and—"

"Have you finally turned crazy?, or have you always been this weird and I just ignored it?"

Sae’s voice cut through the tension like a blade. 

Rin stiffened and slowly turned to see his brother standing at the doorway, arms crossed, eyebrows raised in barely concealed amusement.

"Shut up , " Rin muttered immediately.

"No, seriously." Sae took a step closer, glancing around the kitchen with an exaggerated expression of curiosity. "Who exactly are you talking to? Because unless we’ve got a very polite burglar, it looks like you’re arguing with the air."

"Mind your business," Rin shot back, already feeling the heat rise to his face.

"Oh, but this is absolutely my business , " Sae said, leaning against the counter with a smirk. "My little brother is standing here, looking dead serious, talking to an empty kitchen like it insulted his whole existence. Do I need to be concerned?"

Rin grit his teeth, refusing to acknowledge him.

"I mean, I always knew you were special , but this? This is a new level," Sae continued, enjoying himself way too much. "Are you summoning spirits? Casting curses? Should I be scared?"

"I swear to god, nii—"

"Do we need to call an exorcist?"

" SHUT UP! "

Sae held up his hands in mock surrender. "Fine, fine. But if you start levitating in your sleep, I’m kicking you out."

Rin groaned, dragging a hand down his face. 

This was exactly why he never talked about these things. Sae would rather turn it into a joke than actually listen.

And worst of all? The ghost was still there. Probably laughing at him too.

Once Sae finally got bored of messing with him and left the kitchen, Rin exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders. He glanced toward the floor where the broken glass had scattered, picking up the larger shards first before sweeping the rest into a dustpan. The silence in the room felt heavier now, like someone was still watching him.

Of course, they were.

Rin dumped the broken pieces into the trash and straightened up, finally turning toward the shadow lingering near the doorway. His voice was quieter this time, less frustrated, almost resigned. "Alright. Just tell me your problem. I'll help, and then you’ll leave me alone."

The figure didn’t move. Didn’t make a sound.

Rin sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "C’mon. There’s gotta be a reason you won’t leave. Just spit it out so we can both move on."

Still, nothing.

"Great." He scoffed, leaning against the counter. "Not only am I haunted, but I’ve got the most uncooperative ghost possible."

The ghost finally spoke, her voice a faint whisper, like wind slipping through a crack in the window.

" I didn't mean to stay here this long. "

Rin tensed. It was one thing to see ghosts, another to have one actually respond. He crossed his arms, watching the shadow flicker. "Then why are you still here?"

" I lost something… something important, " she said. "I can’t leave until I find it ."

Rin sighed, already regretting this. "What is it?"

" A necklace. Silver, with a small pendant. I think… I dropped it in the haunted house ."

Of course, she did.

For a brief second, Rin considered walking away and pretending this conversation never happened. But he knew that if he didn’t help, she’d keep following him, making his life miserable. He gritted his teeth and grabbed his jacket.

"Fine. I’ll find it."

The search wasn’t as bad as he expected. 

The haunted house was closed during the day, but climbing over the fence wasn’t exactly hard. He ignored the eerie atmosphere, keeping his focus on the ground, checking under old furniture and dusty corners. 

Eventually, behind a cracked wooden counter, something glinted in the dim light. A silver chain, half-buried in dust.

Bingo.

He returned home just as the sky turned orange with the setting sun. The moment he stepped inside, the shadow by the doorway stirred. Without a word, he held up the necklace. 

The ghost took a single step forward, her form flickering, becoming more solid for just a moment.

" Thank you ."

Then, like mist in the morning, she faded. The weight in the air lifted, the strange chill in the house finally disappearing.

Rin exhaled, rolling his shoulders. "Finally."

"You want to explain what the hell just happened?"

Sae’s voice made him freeze. He turned slowly, finding his brother standing by the couch, arms crossed, eyebrows raised. It was clear he had seen everything.

Rin met his gaze, completely deadpan. "No."

Sae stared at him, waiting for more, but Rin just walked past him, heading toward the kitchen like nothing happened.

Sae scoffed, muttering under his breath, "Lunatic."

Sae was halfway through pouring himself a glass of water when he heard it—Rin talking to himself again.

Not just muttering, but full-on, actual conversation.

"You’ve got to be kidding me," Rin groaned. "I literally just dealt with one of you."

Sae paused, hand tightening around the glass. He sighed, set it down, and walked toward the kitchen.

"Not my problem. Not my problem," Rin muttered, rubbing his temples. "I’m done with this nonsense."

Sae leaned against the doorframe, unimpressed. "Oh great, you’re losing it again."

Rin nearly jumped out of his skin. He spun around, eyes darting between Sae and whatever invisible thing he had been glaring at a second ago.

The shadow was still there, shifting near the sink like it had every right to exist in his kitchen. Rin exhaled through his nose, dragging a hand down his face before throwing his brother a look.

"Alright. Fine. Since you keep showing up at the worst moments—I'll explain."

Sae raised a brow, intrigued but making no effort to look particularly interested. "This should be good."

Rin sighed, leaning against the counter. "I see ghosts."

Silence.

Sae blinked. Then snorted. "You’re joking."

"I wish I was."

He stared, waiting for the punchline, but Rin just stood there, looking exhausted. Slowly, Sae’s expression shifted from mild amusement to something more unreadable.

"Okay." He folded his arms. "Prove it."

Rin pointed directly at the shadow near the sink. "There’s one standing right there."

Sae followed his finger, staring at the empty space.

"...Uh-huh."

Rin groaned, running a hand through his hair. "I knew you wouldn’t believe me."

"Gee, I wonder why."

"Listen, I don’t care if you believe me or not," Rin snapped. "But I’m telling you, I’ve been seeing this stuff since I was a kid, and I’ve just been dealing with it on my own because—well, obviously, no one else can see them. Including you."

Sae was quiet for a moment, expression unreadable. Then, with all the grace of an older brother given new material to work with, he smirked.

"So you’ve been a freak this whole time and just never told me?"

Rin scowled. "Forget it. I’m not talking to you about this anymore."

But Sae was already making himself comfortable, watching Rin with far too much amusement. "Nah, keep going. This is actually interesting."

Turned back to the shadow, ignoring Sae’s smug expression. If he was going to be stuck dealing with this, he might as well try to get something out of it.

"Alright, listen," he muttered under his breath. "You leave me alone, and I’ll—"

Sae, who had been half-listening, frowned. "You’ll what?"

Before Rin could answer, a plate sitting on the counter slid forward on its own. There was no wind, no movement—just a slow, deliberate shift. Then, as if someone had flicked it, the plate tipped over the edge and crashed to the floor.

The room went silent.

Rin inhaled sharply, eyes darting from the shattered pieces to the shadow that was still lurking in the kitchen.

For the first time, Sae looked genuinely caught off guard. 

He glanced at the mess, then at Rin, who was standing there like he had just been personally attacked by the universe.

"...What was that?" Sae’s voice was flat, but there was something just a little wary in his tone.

Rin exhaled through his nose, rubbing his temples. "I don’t want to talk about it."

"Yeah, well, I do," Sae shot back. "What the hell just happened?"

Crouched down,  Rin carefully picking up the broken pieces of the plate. "Nothing. Just a little... negotiation gone wrong."

Sae scoffed. "Negotiation? With what , the air?"

Rin didn’t answer. Instead, he turned his head slightly, addressing the empty space beside him. "Happy now?"

Sae watched, baffled. "Okay, no. That’s it. What exactly are you talking to, and what tricks did you do just to break the plate?"

Sighed escaped his lips, standing up and tossing the pieces into the trash. He wiped his hands on a towel, then finally looked at Sae.

"You really wanna know?"

Skepticism flashed across Sae’s face, but he nodded anyway. "Yeah. Explain."

Rin glanced at the shadow, then back at Sae. After a long pause, he said, "You wouldn't believe me even if I did."

Rolled his eyes. "Try me." Sae said

He considered it. Then, with the most deadpan expression possible, he said, "Ghost tax."

His brother blinked. "...What?"

"The plate. It was ghost tax," Rin said, completely serious. "I had to pay for information."

Sae stared at him like he had grown another head. "You are actually insane."

Rin just shrugged, already done with this conversation. "And you’re just realizing that now?"

Dinner was quiet, save for the occasional clinking of utensils against plates. 

Neither of them brought up the plate incident again, and Rin was fine with that. If Sae wanted to sit there and pretend like nothing happened, then so be it. He wasn’t about to waste energy explaining things to someone who’d just call him crazy again.

The TV flickered, playing some random show neither of them was really paying attention to. The food was decent, the atmosphere tolerable. 

It was the kind of peace Rin could live with.

Sae, lounging on the couch with his plate balanced on his lap, suddenly spoke. "I believe you."

The words came so casually, so unexpectedly, that Rin almost thought he misheard. He blinked, slowly turning to look at his brother. "What?"

A bite of food disappeared into Sae’s mouth before he elaborated. "About the ghosts. Or whatever it is you're seeing."

For a second, Rin didn’t know what to say. Not because he was touched or anything—but because it was so unlike Sae to just accept something like that without picking it apart. "You’re messing with me."

Sae barely glanced at him. "Nope."

Suspicion lingered in Rin’s stare. "...Then why do you believe me?"

A small pause. Then, Sae shrugged. "Because it’s you."

No explanation, no deeper reasoning—just that simple statement. Rin didn’t know what to do with that. He clicked his tongue and turned back to the screen, pretending it didn’t matter.

But somehow, dinner tasted a little better after that.

Chapter Text

Morning arrived, and Rin had one goal in mind—drag Sae outside. 

The movie night a few days ago didn’t count, not when it ended in disaster. He really should’ve remembered his brother’s phobia of blood. But today, he had a simple mission. 

Get a new controller.

Rin didn’t bother knocking. He pushed open Sae’s bedroom door, ready to nag, only to be met with a sight that made him gag.

Sae sat on the edge of his bed, casually lotioning his legs. His legs. Rin wasn’t sure why it was so jarring—maybe because living in Blue Lock had desensitized him to guys who barely did the bare minimum of skincare. Most of them were lucky if they remembered to wash their faces, let alone moisturize.

His brother, however, moved on to his arms, rubbing the lotion in with a level of care that shouldn’t exist this early in the morning.

“What do you want?” Sae finally asked, finishing up by smoothing the lotion over his neck.

Rin, still recovering, took a second before crossing his arms. “Let’s go to the mall.”

"It’s 8 in the morning," Sae pointed out, sounding as unimpressed as ever.

The mall opened at 10. Rin pouted. Two whole hours. He needed a way to get Sae to do whatever he wanted today, but the problem was, Sae was impossible to manipulate. He had too much money to be bribed and too little emotion to be guilt-tripped. Threats? Pointless.

Then, an idea struck.

“We’re getting breakfast first,” Rin declared. “My treat.”

Sae gave him a long, skeptical look. “With what money?”

“With your money,” Rin said without hesitation. “But I’ll handle the paying, so technically, it’s my treat.”

Sae stared. Rin stared back. A silent battle commenced. In the end, Sae sighed and stood up. “Fine. Let’s go.”

Victory. Or so Rin thought.

The mall was quiet when they arrived, too early but at least open. They finished eating without issue, and everything was going well—until the elevator.

The moment Rin stepped inside, something felt off. It was just him and Sae, no one else around. The doors shut. The elevator started moving.

Then—it stopped.

He pressed a button. Nothing. He pressed it again. Still nothing. Sae barely looked up from his phone. “What?”

“The elevator’s stuck.”

As usual Sae blinked, unimpressed. “So?”

Rin hit the emergency button. No response. His fingers hovered over the panel. “Well. This is annoying.”

“That’s one way to put it.” Sae yawned, leaning against the railing.

Twenty minutes passed. Rin tried everything—pressing all the buttons, jamming his fingers into the crack between the doors, even attempting to pry them open before deciding he didn’t care that much. Meanwhile, Sae stood in the corner, watching cat videos.

Rin sighed. “Nii-chan, at least try to help.”

“I am helping.”

Rin glanced at his phone. “…You’re watching cat videos.”

"Exactly."

Thirty minutes. No progress. Rin exhaled slowly, tapping his fingers against his arm. There wasn’t any real urgency—the air was fine, they weren’t in danger—but it was getting boring.

Then, the elevator made a weird noise.

Creak.

Sae finally looked up. “That didn’t sound good.”

Rin’s eyes narrowed. He stepped closer to the panel, studying the buttons. “Maybe if I—”

The elevator lurched.

Sae grabbed the railing. Rin barely moved, keeping his balance with ease.

“…That also didn’t sound good,” Sae muttered.

Rin exhaled through his nose. “No kidding.”

For a few minutes, nothing happened. Then—another lurch, sharper this time. The lights flickered. Sae’s grip on the railing tightened.

Rin pressed the emergency button again. Still nothing.

“This is getting ridiculous,” he muttered.

Clicked his tongue. Sae finally looked a bit wary, “Great. If we die, I’m haunting you.”

Rin shot him a look. “Why me? ”

“Because you dragged me out of my room.”

He sighed. “You can haunt Isagi instead.”

Sae hummed. “That’s a good idea, actually.”

They stood in silence for a moment. Then, without warning, the elevator dropped.

It was brief—just a short, sharp fall before stopping again. Sae cursed under his breath. Rin, still composed, let out a long sigh. “Alright,” he muttered. “This is getting stupid.”

He turned to Sae. “Get on my shoulders.”

Sae blinked at him. “Excuse me?”

“You’re shorter.”

Sae narrowed his eyes. Rin realized his mistake too late. “…I meant, you almost —”

The older Itoshi didn’t say anything, but the way he crossed his arms told Rin he was absolutely offended.

Rin sighed. “Please, nii-chan.”

Sae clicked his tongue. “No.”

“I’m taller. If I boost up, nii-chan can reach the ceiling panel.”

“…No.”

“Nii-chan.”

“I’m not climbing through an elevator ceiling like a criminal.”

Rin pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fine. Then I climb up, and you’ll boost me.”

“No.”

He gave him a flat look. “You’d rather die here? ”

“Yes.”

The elevator jerked again. Rin sighed and crouched down, bracing himself. “Just get on my shoulders.”

With an exhausted groan, Sae finally stepped forward, reluctantly allowing Rin to boost him up. He pushed at the ceiling panel—only for it not to budge.

Sae deadpanned. “It’s locked.”

Another sigh escaped his lips again, lowering him back down. They stood there in silence. Then, the elevator suddenly whirred back to life.

Rin exhaled. Sae straightened his jacket. Neither of them spoke.

When the doors finally opened, Rin walked out first, hands in his pockets. “Let’s go buy my controller.”

Sae followed without a word.

They never mentioned the incident again.

After escaping the elevator ordeal, Rin finally bought his controller. Mission accomplished. Or at least, it should have been. But now that they were already at the mall, there was one more thing left to do.

Shopping.

Not for Rin, obviously.

For Sae.

Because for some unholy reason, his brother had been wearing the same three jackets in rotation like some kind of fashion minimalist, and Rin was sick of seeing them.

So he dragged Sae into a store.

And that’s how Rin ended up holding a pile of clothes while Sae stood in front of a mirror, arms crossed, wearing a leopard print hoodie.

Rin took one look and immediately said, “No.”

Ever the contrarian, his brother smoothed down the fabric. “I think it’s fine.”

“It makes you look like a retired pop star going through a midlife crisis.”

Raised a brow. “So?” Sae actually looks offended. As the way he narrowed his eyes but kept his fingers along the line of the cloth. 

Rin groaned. “ Just take it off. ”

Sae deliberately turned back to the mirror, tugging the hoodie strings. “It’s warm.”

He swore, he resisted the urge to throw a hanger at his brother. But Rin couldn't make a scene at the store. But the thought of Japanese football prodigy got abused with a hanger by his own little brother made him feel a little funny, “I swear, if you buy that—”

A passing sales associate, clearly eager to make a sale, walked by and said, “That looks great on you, sir.”

Rin shot them a betrayed look. Don’t encourage him.

Sae hummed, smug.

He dumped the pile of rejected clothes on a chair. “If you’re actually buying that, I’m disowning you.”

Sae turned, arms lazily crossed. “You can’t disown me.”

“I can and I will. ”

Sighed dramatically and Sae finally pulled off the hoodie. Rin actually exhaled in relief. Then, Sae picked up a sparkly silver jacket. For the umpteenth time in the store, he almost collapsed out of frustration. 

“ What is wrong with you? ”

With his usual nonchalant, unbothered self, Sae totally ignored him, slipping it on. It reflected every bit of mall lighting. Like an actual human disco ball.

Rin covered his face. “I refuse to be seen with you.” actually sounds embarrassed as he hides his face behind his hands. Sometimes he wondered why his brother was so unbothered? It's probably some trait he got from mom. 

Sae checked himself out in the mirror, tilting his head. “Hm.”

Peeked through his fingers. “If you say ‘I think it’s fine’ one more time—”

Sae turned. “I think it’s fine.”

Rin walked out of the store.

The shopping trip could have ended there, but it didn’t.

Rin should have known that letting Sae pick the next stop was a mistake. Yet here he was, standing in the middle of a pet store , watching his brother stare into a glass enclosure like he was contemplating the meaning of life.

Inside, a single turtle sat motionless, unbothered by everything.

“Why are we here,” Rin asked flatly.

Sae didn’t even glance his way. “I’m thinking of getting a turtle.”

“You don’t like pets.”

“I don’t like your pets,” Sae corrected. “A turtle is different.”

Rin squinted. “ How? ”

Sae shrugged. “It doesn’t bark. It doesn’t shed. It doesn’t need attention.” He tapped the glass lightly, watching as the turtle barely moved. “I respect it.”

There were so many things wrong with that statement that Rin didn’t even know where to start.

The employee nearby, who had clearly been eavesdropping, took the opportunity to chime in. “We have a sale on tanks today if you’re interested.”

Sae looked over. “Huh. Maybe.”

“ No, ” Rin interrupted. “Absolutely not. We’re not getting a turtle.”

Sae arched a brow. “ We? ”

“Yes, we. ” If his brother got a pet, Rin knew for a fact he’d end up taking care of it. “You’ll forget to feed it.”

“No, I won’t.”

“You left milk in the fridge for three months and called it an ‘experiment.’”

“That was one time.”

Rin pointed at the turtle. “And what if it hates you?”

Sae gave him a blank look. “It’s a turtle.”

“ Exactly. It could be plotting something and you’d never know.”

The employee cleared their throat. “Turtles aren’t really—”

“ I’m watching you, ” Rin muttered at the reptile, narrowing his eyes.

It didn’t react. Not even a blink. The lack of response only fueled his suspicion. Sae, now visibly amused, turned to the employee. “I’ll think about it.”

The second they left the store, Rin exhaled. “That was a waste of time.”

Sae glanced at him, looking far too pleased with himself. “You were scared of the turtle.”

“I was not. ”

“You think it was plotting something.”

Rin scowled, picking up his pace. “We’re never talking about this again.”

They were barely past the food court when Rin noticed a shift in the air. A small group of girls had slowed down near them, whispering a little too obviously. One of them, likely the bravest, hesitated before stepping forward.

“E-Excuse me,” she said, glancing between them. “You’re… Itoshi Sae, right?”

That was expected. Rin had seen this play out plenty of times before. Normally, his brother would either ignore them completely or, if feeling particularly generous, offer the slightest nod before walking off. It was always cold, always detached, and always enough to make people hesitate before trying again.

This time, though, something was off.

Sae didn’t scoff or turn away like usual. Instead, after a brief pause, he blinked and tilted his head ever so slightly, as if trying to place the name.

“…Ah, no,” he said, his voice perfectly neutral. “You’ve got the wrong person.”

Rin almost tripped.

The girl hesitated, looking back at her friends for reassurance. “Oh, but you… really look like him.”

A light shrug. “I get that a lot.”

And that was it. 

No irritation, no shutting down the conversation with his usual disinterest. Just a calm, almost apologetic dismissal, as if he were some random stranger caught in an awkward case of mistaken identity.

The girls exchanged uncertain glances before offering a hasty apology and walking off.

For a long moment, Rin just stared. It took a second for his brain to catch up with what just happened. Then, without thinking, he grabbed Sae’s sleeve, forcing him to stop.

“What the hell was that?”

Sae barely spared him a glance. “What?”

“ You lied. ”

“It’s not lying. It’s avoiding trouble.”

“That was terrifying. ”

That earned a slight raise of the brow. “Terrifying?”

“Yes! You—you smiled! ” The memory alone sent a shudder down Rin’s spine. “You never smile at people.”

“Of course I do.”

“No, you don’t.” you only smile at me. 

A small, infuriating pause. “Well, I did just now.”

“That’s my point!” Rin dragged a hand down his face. “That wasn’t a normal smile. That was—that was a fake smile. You hate it? And you said it like—like some customer service worker or something. You’ve never done that before.”

Well, mostly Sae hates fake smiling at people because it's just a waste of his time and why should he care whether the person feels or anything. If he didn’t care, why make an effort to even smile fakely? Yes, that's just Itoshi Sae's philosophy of smiling at people. 

Sae resumed walking, completely unbothered. “Maybe you just don’t pay attention.”

That stopped Rin in his tracks. The suspicion crept in almost immediately. “…You do this a lot, don’t you?”

Silence. No confirmation, no denial.

Oh, hell no.

He wasn’t sure what was worse—the fact that Sae had been lying to people’s faces for who knows how long, or the fact that he was actually good at it.

Well, not like it was a really big deal or anything. 

It just surprised him. Maybe he was still too shocked. It had been four years, and Rin never really knew what Sae had experienced while they were apart.

For all he knew, his brother might have changed— just like their dream….

His grip tightened slightly. It was a thought he didn’t want to entertain, not now, not when things actually felt normal for once. It was rare enough that they could spend time together without tension hanging over their heads. Bringing up the past would only ruin that.

So, instead of saying anything, he just shook his head and kept walking.

Sae, as expected, noticed. “What?”

“Nothing.”

That earned a skeptical glance, but Sae didn’t press. He probably figured it wasn’t worth the energy.

They walked in silence for a while, passing storefronts and groups of people. Rin’s focus drifted to the glass windows, catching his own reflection next to Sae’s. His brother was still shorter than him, though only slightly, but for some reason, seeing that difference made something stir in his chest.

Maybe he had expected it to feel more satisfying—being taller than the brother he used to look up to, literally and figuratively. But now, it just felt strange.

“Tch.” He clicked his tongue, annoyed at his own thoughts.

Sae barely turned his head. “What now?”

“Shut up.”

“I didn’t even say anything.”

“Yeah, but you were about to.”

Sae rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched like he was holding back a smirk.

Rin exhaled, letting the moment settle. They were fine. This was fine. No need to overthink things.

Then, right as they were nearing the exit, Sae abruptly changed course and made a sharp turn toward one of the kiosks.

Rin, thrown off, frowned and followed. “Where are you—”

He stopped.

Sae was casually picking up a pair of sunglasses, the kind with huge, oversized lenses.

Rin blinked. “You don’t wear sunglasses.”

“I do now.”

“…Since when?”

“Since those girls from earlier might still be around.”

A pause. “…You’re such a loser,” Rin muttered. 

Sliding the sunglasses on, Sae adjusted them slightly, tilting his head to check the fit in the small kiosk mirror. “Better than dealing with more people,” he muttered.

Rin wasn’t even sure what to say to that. 

He’d been ready for his brother to be annoyed, to brush people off like he usually did. But this? This was weird.

“Are you seriously that bothered?” Rin asked, watching as Sae casually pulled his hoodie up over his head to complete the disguise.

Sae didn’t answer right away. Instead, he adjusted the sunglasses again, then glanced at Rin through the dark lenses. “Not really. Just don’t feel like dealing with it.”

That answer should’ve been enough. 

It was typical Sae—short, dismissive, nothing out of the ordinary. But something about it made Rin frown. He thought back to earlier, how his brother had deflected so smoothly, like it was second nature. And then there was the way he was going out of his way now to avoid attention.

“…Huh.”

Sae picked up on it immediately. “What?”

“Nothing.”

His brother let out a slow breath, then turned to fully face him. “You’re making that face again.”

“What face?”

“The one where you overthink things and get all moody about it.”

“I do not —”

“You do.” Sae crossed his arms. “And it’s annoying.”

Rin scowled, but instead of snapping back, he found himself hesitating.

His grip tightened inside his pocket again.

“…You’re acting weird today,” he muttered, not looking at him.

Sae didn’t respond right away. For a moment, it felt like he might ignore the comment entirely. But then, in a rare shift, his voice softened just slightly. “You’re not acting like yourself either.”

That threw Rin off. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Tilted his head, Sae watching him closely. “You’re actually talking to me.”

Rin’s breath caught. He hadn’t even thought about that.

Sure, they bickered, but today had been… different.

The realization made him stiffen, eyes flickering away. “Shut up.”

Sae let out a quiet chuckle, then—without another word—reached up and yanked Rin’s hood over his head, messing up his hair in the process.

“Oi—”

“Come on,” Sae said, already turning to leave. “Let’s get out of here before you start sulking.”

Rin grumbled under his breath, hastily fixing his hair before following.

And just like that, things were normal again.

The city hadn’t changed much. 

The streets still carried the same scent of freshly baked bread from that one bakery they used to pass by after school. The old bookstore was still standing, the familiar green awning faded but intact. 

Even the cracks in the pavement seemed unchanged, like time had barely moved since the last time they walked here together.

But Rin had changed.

Maybe that was why it felt wrong. 

The familiarity should’ve been comforting, but instead, it only made his chest feel tight. His thoughts kept slipping into places he didn’t want them to go—back to things he lost, things he couldn’t get back. 

Pocchi, the stupid ghosts, the way his own emotions had been spiraling out of control lately.

His steps slowed.

The background noise of the city blurred into a distant hum as he fixated on the weight in his chest, the creeping unease settling deep in his bones. He knew what this was. Knew that his mind was twisting everything into something worse than it actually was. But knowing didn’t stop it from happening.

He could feel himself sinking.

A soft sigh pulled him back.

Sae had stopped walking a few steps ahead, hands in his pockets, watching him with an unreadable expression.

“You’re sulking.”

Rin’s jaw tensed. “No, I’m not.”

“You are. ” Sae didn’t even sound annoyed, just stating it like an undeniable fact.

Rin gritted his teeth. He hated how easily Sae could read him. Most people didn’t notice, or at least, they didn’t call it out. But Sae always did. Always caught on when something was wrong, even when Rin didn’t want him to.

A breeze passed between them, carrying the faint scent of the bakery again. It should’ve been comforting. It just made Rin feel worse.

Sae studied him for a moment longer, then shifted his weight slightly. “We can go home if you want.”

Rin’s head snapped up. “What? No. We just got here.”

“You look miserable.”

“I always look miserable.”

Sae exhaled, shaking his head. “Not like this.”

That made Rin pause. He clenched his fists, looking down at the ground. He didn’t want to leave. But he also didn’t know what he did want.

He felt out of balance, like a wheel that kept spinning too fast and tipping over.

Sae, to his credit, didn’t push. Just stood there, waiting. Giving him space.

Rin took a slow breath, then another.

“…Let’s just keep walking,” he muttered.

Sae nodded, falling into step beside him again.

Neither of them spoke for a while, but somehow, Rin maybe felt just a little steadier. He sure hoped he did. 

The city blurred around him, but Rin barely noticed.  

His mind had already drifted somewhere else — somewhere further back, to a moment he hadn’t thought about in a long time. He could still remember sitting in that cold, white office, staring at the papers on the desk without really reading them . 

He was maybe nine, maybe ten. Young enough that he didn’t fully understand what was happening, but old enough to know that whatever the doctor was saying, it mattered.

"Autism spectrum disorder."

The words didn’t sink in at first. He only caught pieces—things about sensory issues, social difficulties, hyperfocus. Things that didn’t sound like him at all, except they did, and that was the part that made him uneasy.

His parents had asked questions. 

The doctor answered like it was just another normal thing. 

Meanwhile, Rin sat there, gripping his sleeves, feeling like everyone in the room understood something he didn’t. Afterward, Sae didn’t say much. He didn’t even look at Rin as they walked home. 

Maybe he just didn’t care. 

Or maybe he didn’t know what to say.

Rin wasn’t sure which one would’ve been worse.

Back in the present, his fingers twitched slightly at his sides. He let out a slow breath, shaking his head. He didn’t want to think about it. Not now. Not when things finally felt… normal. Or at least, close enough.

He kept his gaze ahead, but his mind tangled in things he couldn’t quite explain.

The unease hadn’t left. 

It sat heavy in his chest, shifting like an itch he couldn’t scratch. It wasn’t sadness, not exactly. Or maybe it was. Maybe it was everything at once, all blurring together until he couldn’t pick it apart.

His fingers curled into the sleeves of his hoodie. “I don’t get it.”

Sae glanced at him. “Get what?”

“This,” Rin muttered. “How I feel.” His own voice sounded distant to him. “It’s… I don’t know. Too much. And not enough. And then too much again.” He exhaled sharply. “I can’t keep up with it.”

He expected Sae to say something right away, but there was only quiet. When he finally glanced over, Sae was just watching him, the way he always did when he was actually paying attention.

“...That’s normal,” Sae said after a moment. “Feeling like that.”

Rin frowned. “No, it’s not.”

“It is. Maybe not for everyone. But for you, yeah.”

Something about that made Rin’s throat feel tight. He looked away, shoulders tense.

“Even when I try to explain it, it doesn’t come out right,” he muttered. “People don’t get it. I don’t even get it.” He chewed the inside of his cheek. “It’s like… there’s too many things happening at once, and I don’t have time to sort through them. And if I try, it just makes it worse.”

Sae was quiet again, but it wasn’t the dismissive kind of quiet. It was the kind that meant he was actually listening.

Rin exhaled, rubbing at his temples. “I don’t know why I’m even saying this.”

“Because you need to,” Sae said simply.

That caught him off guard.

He blinked, turning slightly to look at Sae again, but his brother was already looking ahead, like the conversation wasn’t anything unusual. Like it wasn’t weird for Rin to just spill out the mess in his head like this.

The tension in his shoulders didn’t disappear yet.

A quiet sigh slipped out before he could stop it. He kept his gaze ahead, but he knew Sae had noticed.

His brother didn’t say anything at first, just walked beside him, hands in his pockets. The silence stretched, almost comfortable, until Sae casually muttered, “You look miserable.”

Rin shot him a glare. “Thanks.”

“Not a compliment.”

“I figured.”

Sae hummed, unconcerned. Then, in the most unnatural, forced tone Rin had ever heard from him, he suddenly said, “Hey, buddy. Champ. Sport. Want some ice cream?”

Rin almost tripped. He turned to stare, wide-eyed, because what the hell was that?

Sae kept a straight face, but there was the slightest, almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of his lips.

“…What is wrong with you?” Rin muttered.

“You looked like you were about to cry,” Sae replied. “I thought I'd try the ‘dad’ approach.”

Rin groaned, rubbing his face. “Never do that again.”

“Noted.” A pause. “So. Ice cream?”

Rin hesitated, but his brother was already steering him toward a nearby shop like the decision had already been made. Begrudgingly, he let it happen. Maybe Sae sucked at comfort, but at least he was trying.

The waves crashed against the rocks below, a steady rhythm that filled the quiet between them. 

The sky stretched endlessly, painted in soft hues as the afternoon sun lingered. Rin sat on the ledge, legs dangling over the edge, the cold sweetness of ice cream melting against his tongue.

Sae was next to him, composed as ever, though the ocean breeze ruffled his hair slightly. 

They hadn't spoken much since getting here—just eating in silence, letting the sound of the shore do most of the talking. Then Rin broke the stick in his hand, eyes widening slightly when he saw the tiny inscription. Another winning prize.

He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “Again?”

Sae glanced over, catching sight of the writing. Rin braced himself for the usual comment, the usual cynicism about wasted luck—

But it never came.

Instead, Sae just took another bite of his ice cream and said, “Maybe it means good things are coming your way.”

Rin blinked. “What?”

“You won. Maybe that’s a sign things will start looking up.”

That was—unexpected. Rin frowned, studying his brother like he had suddenly been replaced by an imposter. From this morning to now, everything about Sae felt different. Still Sae, but… something was off.

“Nii-chan,” he started, suspicious, “what’s wrong with you today?”

Sae didn’t answer immediately. He finished his ice cream first, letting the stick rest between his fingers before finally speaking.

“I thought… maybe it was me,” he admitted, voice quieter than usual. “I just don’t want you to keep getting angry.”

Rin’s stomach twisted at that, caught completely off guard. He stared at his brother, who wasn’t even looking at him—just gazing out at the horizon like he hadn’t just said something that made Rin’s mind reel.

The waves rolled in, steady and endless, but Rin’s thoughts were anything but. He stared at Sae, trying to make sense of what he just said.

“You… what?” The words felt clumsy coming out. He never expected Sae to say something like that.

Sae exhaled, rolling the ice cream stick between his fingers. “I don’t know,” he muttered, almost like he was regretting saying anything at all. “You’ve been pissed off a lot lately. Maybe I was making it worse.”

It was such a simple thing to say, but it hit Rin weirdly.

Because, yeah, he had been pissed off. A lot. But that was just… life. He got irritated, people were annoying, things didn’t go the way he wanted. That was normal. But hearing Sae say this, seeing him actually consider his feelings—it unsettled him.

“I mean, I’m always pissed off,” he muttered, looking away. “Not exactly new.”

Sae hummed. “Yeah. But it felt different.”

A silence stretched between them, only the sound of the ocean filling the space. Rin let his fingers grip the edge of the concrete, grounding himself. He didn’t like talking about this. About himself. But now it was out in the open, sitting between them like something that couldn’t be ignored.

He sighed, rolling his shoulders. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me lately.” His voice was quieter than he meant it to be. “Everything’s just… piling up. Feels like I can’t catch a break.”

He didn’t expect Sae to say anything. Maybe a hm , or a dismissive comment, but nothing more.

Instead, his brother just sat there, silent for a moment, then said, “Then take one.”

Rin shot him a glare. “What, like it’s that easy?”

Sae shrugged. “No. But you don’t have to make it harder for yourself either.”

That was… strangely insightful. Annoyingly so. Rin turned back to the water, staring at the horizon. His fingers played with the winning ice cream stick, mind still tangled up in too many thoughts.

Maybe Sae was right. Maybe he was making things harder for himself. But still—

He stole a glance at his brother, who was still watching the waves, his expression unreadable.

“Why are you being so weird today?” Rin asked, narrowing his eyes.

Sae let out a small breath—something between a laugh and a sigh. “I told you. I don’t want you to be mad all the time.”

Rin scoffed. “That’s impossible.”

“Then at least not at me.”

The words were casual, but Rin heard the weight in them. He swallowed, looking back at the ocean.

Sae leaned back on his hands, eyes still on the horizon. The sun was starting to dip lower, streaking the sky with soft oranges and pinks. Rin watched him out of the corner of his eye, still turning the winning ice cream stick between his fingers.

“You know,” Sae said after a moment, voice calm, almost thoughtful, “if you keep winning those, maybe it’s not a waste.”

Rin blinked. “What?”

Sae tilted his head slightly, as if considering his words. “Maybe it just means you’re lucky.”

That caught him off guard. Sae had always said the opposite—always brushed it off like Rin was wasting something important. But now, hearing him say that… it made something uncomfortable twist in his chest.

Rin turned the stick over in his palm, staring at the tiny printed letters that declared his win.

“Huh,” he muttered. He didn’t know what else to say.

Sae stood up, brushing off his pants. “Come on. Let’s go before you start overthinking it.”

Rin scowled, shoving the stick into his pocket as he stood up to follow. “I wasn’t overthinking it.”

“Yeah, sure.”

They walked side by side, the sound of the waves fading behind them.

Lying in bed, Rin stared at the ceiling.

His room is dimly lit by the glow of his phone screen. He wasn’t even looking at anything, just holding it, letting the soft buzz of silence settle around him.

Today had been… strange. 

Not in a bad way, not exactly, but different. From the moment he’d barged into Sae’s room, expecting to drag him out, to the way his brother had handled those fans like some kind of undercover agent. The shift in his attitude, the way he didn’t brush things off like usual—it all stuck in Rin’s mind.

The ice cream, the stupid winning stick, the words Sae had said. Maybe it just means you’re lucky.

He turned onto his side, frowning at nothing. Sae had never spoken like that before. It wasn’t like he’d been overly nice or anything—he was still blunt, still annoyingly himself—but something was different.

Was it just today? Or had Sae been changing this whole time, and Rin just never noticed?

His fingers curled around the fabric of his blanket. It wasn’t a bad feeling. Just… unfamiliar. And Rin didn’t know what to do with that.

Exhaling, he closed his eyes. He’d think about it later. Right now, he just needed to sleep.

Chapter Text

Maybe it just means you’re lucky.

The words still echoed in the back of his mind before Rin finally met with the slow hum of the morning breeze. Oh. He forgot to close the window last night. 

Luckily, it hadn’t rained.

Blurry-eyed, he pushed himself up from the bed and walked over, resting his arms on the sill as he took a deep breath. The air was crisp, the morning quiet—not bad. Everything felt normal again.

The routine came next. A stretch, a few yoga poses to shake off the sleep, a cold shower to snap him into focus. Finally, meditation. Legs crossed, eyes closed, steady breaths. It was the same pattern he followed every morning, a ritual that grounded him—until, of course, an interruption crashed into his peace.

Three sharp knocks on his door.

Expected.

He sighed, not even bothering to open his eyes. “What!?”

“I need your help.”

That immediately piqued Rin’s interest. His brother rarely, if ever, asked for help. It was enough to pull him out of his meditation. Rolling up his mat, he set it aside before getting up and opening the door.

His eyes landed on Sae—tired-looking as usual—but then slowly drifted to the living being cradled in his arms.

Big, round eyes stared back at him. 

A tiny hand curled into a fist, while the other was busy shoving a thumb into a small mouth. The baby blinked. Rin blinked.

His lips parted slightly, yet no words came out. The scene before him was simply too outrageous. In all his life, not once had he ever imagined his stoic, unbothered, nonchalant brother holding a child .

“What…”

“Help me, would ya?” Sae finally spoke, shifting the baby in his arms as if he had been doing this for years. The baby— a literal baby —was barely past two, her chubby cheek resting against his brother’s shoulder.

“Who?” was all Rin could manage.

“Miyako. Auntie Sera’s daughter,” Sae explained, completely unfazed. “She needs someone to look after her. Only until noon.”

And just like that, Sae turned on his heel and headed downstairs, leaving Rin standing there, still processing what had just happened.

Rin stood frozen, his brain buffering like a lagging video.

His brother. His brother . The same Sae who was allergic to social interaction, emotionally constipated, and once told a five-year-old crying over a dropped ice cream to "deal with it"—was now standing in the kitchen, expertly balancing a toddler on one arm while preparing a bottle with the other.

Rin felt like he was in some kind of alternate dimension.

The baby, Miyako, let out a soft whimper, shifting restlessly in Sae’s hold. 

Without missing a beat, Sae adjusted his grip, bouncing her gently as he tested the milk temperature on his wrist. “Almost ready,” he muttered, voice softer than Rin had ever heard before.

Rin squinted.

This was wrong .

Everything he knew about Sae told him that his brother should have been at least a little awkward with kids. Maybe even slightly annoyed. But instead, Sae moved with an ease that made it seem like he had been doing this forever.

When Miyako’s whimper turned into a quiet fuss, Sae effortlessly switched gears. “What?” he asked her, as if she could actually answer. “You want your bottle now? Yeah, yeah, I get it.” He twisted the cap onto the bottle, checked the temperature again, then— and this was the part that truly sent Rin into shock — he gently booped her nose .

Rin clutched the nearest chair for support.

“...Who are you?” he finally blurted out.

Sae barely spared him a glance as he sat down, still cradling Miyako with a ridiculous amount of care. “You deaf? I just told you.” He tested the bottle one last time before offering it to the baby, who eagerly latched onto it. “She’s Auntie Sera’s kid. I said I’d babysit.”

“No, no, I mean—” Rin gestured wildly at the scene before him. “ You . Who are you ? What happened to the nii-chan I knew? The one who told me to shut up until I was at least 'half-decent' at football? The one who once ignored a crying kid for ten straight minutes because you ‘weren’t their parent’?”

Sae raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “You expect me to be mean to a baby?”

“Yes?!” Rin threw up his hands. “I don’t know! Maybe?!”

A slow smirk spread across Sae’s face, the kind that made Rin immediately regret speaking. “So what, are you jealous?”

Rin recoiled like he had just been slapped. “What?! No!”

“Sounds like you are.”

“I—What— No !”

Sae shrugged, shifting Miyako to rest more comfortably against his chest as she drank. “Then why are you so worked up about it?”

Rin opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. Damn it .

He hated when Sae did this. Twisted his words, turned everything back on him, and made him look like an idiot.

Finally, after taking a deep, suffering breath, Rin slumped onto the couch and mumbled, “I just didn’t expect you to be good with kids.”

Sae scoffed. “That’s because you’re an idiot.”

“Wow. There he is,” Rin deadpanned. “Welcome back, actual Itoshi Sae.”

Sae ignored him, lightly tapping Miyako’s back when she finished her bottle. Rin watched as his brother—his emotionally unavailable , football-obsessed , rude brother—gently wiped the baby’s mouth with a napkin, then held her securely against his shoulder and started patting her back for burps.

Miyako let out a tiny hiccup , and Sae murmured, “Good girl.”

Rin stared. He felt like his world had just flipped upside down.

“Do you—” he hesitated, still watching the impossibility unfold before him. “Do you even like kids?”

Sae sighed, finally looking at him. “They’re fine.”

“That’s it?”

“What do you want me to say?” Sae adjusted Miyako again, rubbing small circles on her back. “I don’t hate them. They’re not annoying if you know what you’re doing .”

Rin had to stop himself from physically flinching.

So Sae knew what he was doing.

Meanwhile, Rin still felt like a barely functioning adult.

This was unacceptable.

“…I’m not changing diapers,” he said, glaring at his brother.

Sae smirked. “I wasn’t gonna ask. You’d probably screw it up.”

Rin scowled, arms crossing. “I could do it.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“I could !”

Sae just hummed again, completely unconvinced. Rin hated that it worked —he was already planning how to prove Sae wrong.

Miyako, still curled up against Sae’s chest, let out a small sigh of contentment. Rin, despite himself, stared.

This wasn’t fair.

Sae was already better at football. Now he was also better at babysitting?!

What the hell.

Rin still hadn’t fully processed the fact that his brother—his emotionally stunted , zero-patience-having brother—was sitting there like some kind of baby whisperer .

Meanwhile, Rin didn’t even know how to hold a baby properly.

Miyako was comfortably resting against Sae’s chest, her tiny hand clutching onto his shirt like she had known him forever. Sae, completely unbothered, leaned back on the couch and scrolled through his phone with one hand while keeping Miyako steady with the other.

Rin squinted.

“How,” he started, pointing at them, “are you so casual about this?”

Sae barely looked up. “Because I am casual about this.”

“No. No, no, no. That doesn’t make sense. You don’t just— know how to do this.”

“Clearly, I do.”

Rin gawked at him. He didn’t even know what to say. Just standing here made him feel ridiculous , like a total amateur while Sae was somehow thriving at babysitting.

He narrowed his eyes. “You’ve done this before.”

Sae hummed in confirmation. “A couple times.”

Nearly choked. “ A couple times? ”

Sae gave him a bored glance, as if he was the weird one in this conversation. “I visit Auntie Sera when I come back to Japan, idiot. And Miyako likes me.”

He swore his brain short-circuited.

A baby. Liked Sae.

The same Sae who barely tolerated adults ? Who treated social interaction like a necessary evil ?

“I—You—” Rin struggled to form a coherent thought. “What kind of alternate universe is this?!”

Sae sighed, finally putting his phone down. “Why are you being so dramatic?”

“Because this is weird !” Rin flailed his hands at the scene in front of him. “You being nice —you holding a baby —you being good at it —this is all wrong !”

His brother gave him a flat stare. “What, did you expect me to drop her?”

“Yes!”

Miyako stirred slightly at Rin’s outburst, and Sae immediately bounced her lightly, soothing her back to sleep with effortless ease.

Rin’s jaw dropped.

“Shh,” Sae warned, not even remotely stressed. “She just fell asleep.”

Rin clutched his head. He was going insane.

No. No, no, no.

He refused to believe Sae had just been hiding this competence his whole life.

“Alright, you know what? If you’re such a baby expert ,” Rin said, still in utter disbelief, “then go ahead. Prove it.”

Sae gave him a lazy smirk. “I already am.”

Rin hated that he was right.

He leaned onto the couch in defeat, watching as his mysteriously capable older brother cradled a sleeping baby like it was nothing.

“I don’t get you,” Rin muttered, arms crossed.

Sae just shrugged. “You never have.”

Rin scowled but didn’t argue.

Because, for once, Sae was absolutely right.

Miyako stirred in Sae’s arms, tiny fingers flexing before her big, round eyes blinked open. She let out a small noise—somewhere between a yawn and a whimper—before glancing around.

A steady stare met her from the couch. Rin, unmoving, watched as she sucked on her fingers, completely unfazed. He had no idea what was going through her tiny head, but something about being examined so closely by a baby made him feel oddly self-conscious.

“She’s awake,” Sae noted, shifting slightly to adjust his hold. “Wanna hold her?”

The suggestion sent a jolt of hesitation through him. “I—what? No.”

“She’s not gonna explode.” Sae said it so casually, like this was just a normal morning for them.

A quick glance at the baby confirmed that, yes, she was still staring. Like she knew he was afraid. Which he wasn’t. He just—didn’t exactly trust himself to hold something that small without messing up.

Sae, clearly picking up on his reluctance, adjusted Miyako again. “Just hold her for a bit. She’s not that heavy.”

His jaw tightened, but he still hesitated. The entire situation felt bizarre enough already, but now he was supposed to hold the kid? He? Who was scolded for being too aggressive in games and was somehow supposed to handle a baby?

“I’ll help you,” Sae added, like that would magically fix everything.

Exhaling sharply, Rin reluctantly held out his hands. Sae guided the baby into his arms with practiced ease, making sure the grip was secure before letting go.

Small. Warm. A little heavier than expected but still unbelievably light.

The tiny girl blinked up at him, her fingers still lazily tucked in her mouth, completely unbothered by the change. Meanwhile, Rin sat like a board, holding her as if one wrong move would ruin everything.

“What now?” His voice came out stiffer than he intended.

“Just sit with her.” Sae leaned back, looking far too relaxed for someone who had just handed over a child.

The stillness stretched between them. Miyako nestled closer against him, her tiny fingers curling slightly into his shirt.

For some reason, that small movement made him ease up—just a little.

A quiet hum broke the silence as Sae reached over, thumb brushing against Miyako’s chin. 

With practiced ease, he wiped away a little bit of drool that had started to gather at the corner of her mouth, his movements so natural that it didn’t seem like he was even thinking about it.

Something about the action made Rin pause.

That felt… familiar.

Not just in the way Sae did it, but in a way that tugged at something distant in his memory. His mind drifted back, pulling out fragments of the past—his brother wiping his face when he was too young to do it himself. It wasn’t anything dramatic, just little things—cleaning off his mouth after eating, fixing his messy hair without a word, shoving a water bottle into his hands when he looked tired.

Back then, he hadn’t thought much of it. 

Even now, it wasn’t like Sae was openly caring—he just did things. Quietly. Subtly.

And maybe… he never really stopped.

Rin frowned slightly, his grip on Miyako adjusting as she shifted in his arms. It was weird, seeing his brother like this. Not because Sae was suddenly good with kids—no, that wasn’t the strange part. 

It was how natural it looked.

Thinking back, their parents were rarely home. Too busy with work, too caught up in whatever adults had to do. Which meant he had spent a lot of time trailing after Sae, going wherever his brother went, sitting in the stands during football matches because there was no one else to watch him.

Maybe this was why his brother was good at this. Not because he had some hidden talent for childcare, but because he had already done it before.

Just… with him.

His gaze flickered toward Sae, who was now casually scrolling through his phone, completely unaware of the thoughts running through Rin’s head.

Maybe he’d ask about it later. Or maybe he wouldn’t.

For now, he just sat there, holding the tiny human in his arms, letting the thought settle.

But then he asked, like his mind just being comfortable after a week living together, it escaped his mouth unguarded, "was it hard taking care of me back then?" 

For a moment, there was only the soft buzz of Sae’s phone screen and the quiet sounds of Miyako shifting against Rin’s arms. He almost thought his brother wasn’t going to answer. 

Maybe it was a dumb question.

Then, without looking up, Sae responded, " You were annoying."

Rin scoffed, rolling his eyes. “No surprise there.”

Still, he didn’t drop it. Something about the way Sae answered—it wasn’t dismissive like usual. No sharp bite to his tone, no immediate why are you asking something so dumb? It made him curious.

Shifting slightly, Rin adjusted Miyako’s tiny weight in his arms and tried again. “But, like… was it hard? With Mom and Dad always gone? You kinda just had to deal with me, huh?”

Sae finally glanced up, his expression unreadable. "I didn’t have to. You just wouldn’t leave me alone.”

“That’s not an answer.”

A beat of silence. Then, with a sigh, Sae leaned back against the couch, arms crossing over his chest. “I guess it wasn’t that hard. You were easy enough to manage. Ate what I gave you, sat where I told you. But you always asked too many questions.” His eyes narrowed slightly, as if remembering. “ Too many. ”

Rin huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, I believe that.”

His brother let out a small hum, tapping his phone screen. “But you were clingy.”

It wasn’t an insult. At least, it didn’t sound like one. Just a fact, spoken as plainly as if he were commenting on the weather.

Rin frowned, not sure how to feel about that. “Well… I was a kid.”

Sae shrugged. "Didn’t say it was a bad thing."

That was probably the closest thing to a compliment he was going to get.

Miyako let out a small sigh in her sleep, curling deeper into Rin’s hold, and he stared down at her, lost in thought. He used to be that small once, didn’t he? And Sae—his brother who had never seemed like the type—had been the one making sure he was okay.

It was weird, thinking about it like that.

“…Is that why you’re good at this?” The words left his mouth before he could stop them. “Because you had to take care of me back then?”

Sae gave him a look, unimpressed. “I’m not good at this.”

Rin snorted. “Yeah? Try telling that to Miyako. She looks pretty comfortable.”

Another pause. Then, surprisingly, Sae actually considered it.

“…Maybe,” he admitted. “I just remember what worked for you. Babies cry when they’re hungry, when they’re tired. They don’t like loud noises, they like routine. You were like that, too. If anything was out of place, you’d freak out.”

Rin blinked.

That—he hadn’t expected that.

Sae wasn’t just recalling old memories; he was analyzing, breaking things down like he always did. Like football. Like anything he cared about. Except this time, it was him.

He felt something uncomfortable stir in his chest.

“…I didn’t freak out.”

Sae raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, you did.”

Rin scowled, opening his mouth to argue, but Sae continued, completely unfazed. “If Mom was supposed to come home and she didn’t, you’d refuse to eat until I made you. If your favorite shirt wasn’t clean, you wouldn’t wear anything else. If the store moved things around, you’d freeze up and just stand there.” He tilted his head slightly. “You probably don’t even remember half of it.”

No. He didn’t.

But it felt true.

Something gnawed at the edges of his mind—memories just out of reach, things that made sense now in a way they didn’t back then. He had always thought he was just weird. Just too sensitive, too rigid, too much.

But Sae—Sae had always just dealt with it.

And he remembered.

The realization sat heavy in Rin’s chest.

“…Huh,” was all he managed to say.

Sae didn’t press further. Didn’t ask him why he suddenly went quiet, why he looked like his brain had short-circuited. He just went back to scrolling through his phone, as if nothing had happened.

Like it was normal.

Like it always had been.

And then Miyako shifted slightly in Rin’s arms, letting out a tiny sigh before settling again, completely asleep. He glanced down, watching the slow rise and fall of her breathing. Peaceful. Relaxed. Like she had never once questioned if she was safe.

It was weird, holding someone so small. Even weirder that Sae had been carrying her around like it was second nature.

“…You really remember all that?” Rin finally asked, voice quieter now.

His brother didn’t even look up. “Yeah.”

It shouldn’t have been a surprise, not after everything Sae had just said, but it still made Rin pause.

He’d never thought about it before. How much his brother had done. How much he had noticed. In Rin’s head, Sae had always been the one who didn’t care. The one who said things too bluntly, didn’t sugarcoat, didn’t go out of his way for anyone.

But now, staring at Miyako, feeling the warmth of her tiny body in his arms, he thought back to all the times his brother had been there. Really been there. The food that always showed up when he forgot to eat. The hand that stopped him from walking into traffic because he was too caught up in his own head. The voice that told him to shut up and sleep when he was still kicking at 2 AM.

Sae had always acted like it was nothing. Like it wasn’t even worth mentioning.

But it wasn’t nothing , was it?

“…Was it annoying?” Rin asked before he could stop himself. “Having to take care of me?”

Exhaled through his nose, Sae rubbing a hand down his face. "I already told you—you were annoying. That doesn't mean it was bad. "

Rin frowned. "That doesn't make sense."

Sae scoffed. "It makes perfect sense."

He could argue. Should argue. But something about the way his brother said it made him stop.

Miyako stirred slightly again, and Sae reached over, wiping away a bit of drool from the corner of her mouth again. 

That memory from a few days ago surfaced— when Rin had been too focused on his game. He hadn't noticed it then, but now, looking at Sae, he realized. His brother had done the same thing. Wiped away his drool before he could even be embarrassed about it.

How many other things had he missed?

He felt a strange tightness in his chest, but before he could say anything, Sae leaned back again, stretching his arms above his head. "Anyway. She’s your problem now. Don’t drop her."

Rin scowled, instinctively adjusting his hold on Miyako. “You’re the one who gave her to me.”

“You took her.”

“You offered. ”

Sae smirked slightly but didn’t say anything.

The room fell into a comfortable quiet, the soft hum of the house the only sound between them.

For the first time in a long time, Rin didn’t feel like he had to force himself to understand his brother.

He just did.

As noon approached, Miyako remained peacefully asleep in Rin’s arms. He had barely moved for the past hour, afraid she would wake up and start crying again. Sae, on the other hand, was perfectly unbothered, scrolling through his phone on the couch like there wasn’t a baby in the house at all.

Rin shot him a glare. “You could at least pretend to help.”

“I did help,” Sae replied lazily. “I handed her to you.”

“That’s not—” Rin cut himself off with a sigh. There was no winning with his brother.

A tiny whimper made him tense, but Miyako only shifted against his chest, letting out a soft sigh before settling again. Carefully, he adjusted his hold, trying not to jostle her too much. He wasn’t about to admit it out loud, but… it had been kind of nice.

Weird. But nice.

The knock at the door made him jump. Before he could move, Sae had already stood up and opened it, revealing their aunt, Sera.

“Oh, look at that,” she cooed, stepping inside. “You held her the whole time?”

Rin hesitated. “…Yeah.”

Sera smiled, reaching out to gently take Miyako from his arms. “She must’ve really liked you. She usually wakes up at least once.”

Miyako stirred as she was transferred, blinking up at her mother with sleepy eyes before burying her face into her shoulder. Rin watched, suddenly feeling an odd sense of emptiness now that his arms were free.

“Thanks for watching her,” Sera said, adjusting Miyako’s tiny jacket. “I hope she wasn’t too much trouble.”

Rin opened his mouth, but Sae spoke first. “Nah, Rin was a natural. Maybe I should leave her with him next time too.”

Rin snapped his head toward him. “ Next time —?”

Sae smirked.

Sera laughed. “Well, if you ever feel like babysitting again, I’d appreciate it.” She turned to leave. With that, she stepped out the door, Miyako still dozing against her shoulder.

The house felt strangely quiet after they left.

Finally turned to his brother. “What the hell did you mean by next time ?”

Sae shrugged, heading back to the couch. “We’ll see.”

He groaned. Maybe this was payback for all the years he had been an annoying little brother.

With Miyako finally taken home by their aunt, the house felt strangely quiet again. 

Rin stood by the window, arms crossed, eyes watching as the car disappeared down the road. The warmth that had settled in the house all morning seemed to fade just a little, leaving him feeling... odd. He wasn’t sure why. 

Maybe it was the shift in energy, or maybe it was something else entirely.

Sae, standing beside him, stretched his arms above his head before letting out a quiet sigh. “You look weirdly sentimental,” he remarked, side-eyeing Rin like he had just caught him doing something embarrassing.

The younger Itoshi scoffed, rolling his eyes. “I’m not.”

“Sure.” Sae didn’t sound convinced.

A beat of silence passed, then Rin spoke without really thinking, “You’re good with kids.” It wasn’t a compliment, just a statement of fact.

Sae blinked, then shrugged. “It’s not that hard.”

“Not what I expected,” Rin admitted. “You were kind of a jerk to everyone when we were kids.”

The corners of Sae’s mouth twitched. “Everyone but you.”

Rin hesitated. It was true. His brother had been cold, blunt, and dismissive to just about everyone else, but never to him. Back then, he never thought too much about it. It was just how things were. But now, after seeing how naturally Sae handled Miyako—how patient, how careful—it made him wonder if it was the same way their brother had handled him when they were younger.

He clicked his tongue and looked away. “Still weird.”

Sae chuckled under his breath. “You just don’t like admitting when you’re wrong.”

Rin scowled. “Shut up.”

Sae only hummed in amusement, then patted Rin’s head—light, brief, but enough to make the younger freeze in place. “Stop thinking so much. You’ll hurt your brain.” And just like that, he turned on his heel and started walking away, leaving Rin standing there, slightly dazed.

Somehow, that single gesture made Rin feel even weirder than before.

Noon rolled around, bringing with it the undeniable realization that neither of them wanted to cook.

Rin had flopped onto the couch, flipping through his phone, while Sae sat at the dining table, scrolling aimlessly. They had gone back and forth about who should cook, but both brothers had mastered the art of ignoring each other’s existence when it suited them.

Eventually, Sae sighed. “Let’s just eat outside.”

Rin hummed in agreement, already slipping on his sneakers. The moment neither of them had to lift a finger in the kitchen, there was no debate.

The café wasn’t far. It was one of those places Rin liked—quiet, tucked away from crowds, but still served decent food. Sae didn’t care much for atmosphere, but he had to admit, the coffee was good. A necessity.

The place was moderately busy when they arrived. 

They grabbed a corner table near the window, where the afternoon sun spilled lazily across the wooden surface. Sae scanned the menu. Rin already knew what he wanted.

“Don’t order something weird,” Rin muttered.

Sae didn’t dignify that with a response.

The moment of peace stretched between them—comfortable, quiet. Until it wasn’t.

It started as a feeling. The kind of prickle at the back of his neck that told him someone was looking. Not in the usual way fans glanced at him—this was different.

The first red flag should have been when someone boldly took the seat across from him.

Rin looked up from his phone, smirked, and immediately looked away. He was going to be zero help.

Sae exhaled slowly. Here we go.

The person sitting across from him had the kind of self-assured confidence that screamed trouble. Sae barely lifted his gaze from the menu. “What do you want?”

Rin, across the table, was already biting back a smirk, eyes fixed on his phone as if he wasn’t thoroughly entertained by whatever disaster was about to unfold.

The stranger—some guy in a ridiculous, oversized scarf despite the warm weather—grinned. “It’s you, right? Itoshi Sae?”

Sae didn’t react.

“I knew it!” The guy snapped his fingers. “I’ve seen you play—man, you’re a genius on the field. But, like, I’ve always wondered... how’s your social life?”

Rin snorted.

Sae finally looked up. “What?”

“I mean, you always look kind of... detached? Mysterious? You know, like you don’t care about anything.” The guy leaned in conspiratorially. “So, I was thinking—are you secretly bad at socializing?”

Rin choked on air.

Visibly unimpressed, Sae set his menu down. “Are you done?”

The guy, absolutely not reading the atmosphere, grinned wider. “Come on, man. I bet you’re super awkward. I can tell. You probably have no idea how to hold a normal conversation, huh?”

Rin had to cover his mouth to keep from laughing out loud.

Sae, meanwhile, looked like he was debating whether homicide was worth the consequences. “I’m literally having a conversation right now.”

“Yeah, but—” The guy waved a hand. “That’s just cause I started it. I mean, do you even know how to, like, casually compliment someone? Just try it. Compliment me.”

Silence.

Rin stared at his brother, dying to see how Sae would handle this.

A muscle in Sae’s jaw twitched. Then, after what looked like genuine effort, he muttered, “Nice scarf.”

The guy beamed. “See? That wasn’t so hard!”

Sae, very slowly, turned to Rin. “We’re leaving.”

Rin, shaking with laughter, was absolutely not going to let this go anytime soon.

The second they stepped out of the restaurant, the afternoon heat settled lazily around them, and neither of them was particularly eager to head back home just yet. Rin walked with his hands in his pockets, staring at the sidewalk as if it had personally offended him, while Sae looked half-distracted, probably thinking about something football-related again.

Neither of them noticed the group of girls standing near the café entrance.

A light bump against his arm made Rin glance up, and before he could process anything, a girl with bright eyes and an easy smile looked up at him. “Oh, sorry!”

It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. Accidental bumps happened all the time. 

But something about the way she blinked at him, like she’d just discovered something interesting, made Rin’s internal alarms flicker on.

“No problem,” he muttered, stepping aside to keep walking—

Then another girl, standing just a little behind, very audibly whispered, “Wait, he’s actually kinda cute.”

The heat from the sun had nothing on the fire that immediately ignited inside his skull.

Behind him, Sae stopped walking.

The tension in the air shifted. A sense of dread crept up Rin’s spine, but before he could react, one of the girls took a bold step closer.

“Hey, um… this might be random, but—are you a model or something?”

All coherent thoughts in Rin’s head disintegrated on the spot. “Hah?”

“You just have this, like… really cool vibe,” she added, looking both nervous and intrigued.

Somewhere beside him, the sound of suppressed laughter filled the air.

It took everything in Rin’s power not to turn his head, because he already knew exactly what kind of expression was on Sae’s face right now.

The girls, completely oblivious to his silent suffering, exchanged excited glances. “Do you maybe wanna—”

A heavy hand clamped onto Rin’s shoulder.

“Sorry, ladies,” Sae said, voice way too smooth, as he physically dragged Rin back a step. “But my dear little brother is painfully shy.”

Every neuron in Rin’s brain short-circuited. “I’m not—”

“He’s bad at talking to strangers,” Sae continued, speaking as if Rin wasn’t standing right there. “One time, a girl tried to flirt with him, and he choked on his own water. Nearly died.”

The betrayal Rin felt at that moment could not be put into words.

One of the girls giggled. “Wait, you guys are brothers?”

“Oh yeah,” Sae said, clearly enjoying himself now. “And if you think he’s cool now, you should’ve seen him as a kid. He had the cutest little—”

There was no time to think, no hesitation. Instinct took over.

An elbow flew straight into Sae’s ribs.

For the first time, Itoshi Sae actually staggered.

“WE’RE LEAVING,” Rin barked, grabbing his brother by the sleeve and yanking him away before he could destroy his dignity any further.

Behind them, the girls burst into laughter.

Sae, still rubbing his ribs, let himself be dragged, completely unbothered. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

Rin, burning with embarrassment, swore that if karma was real, Sae was going to be hit with it tenfold someday.

He walked ahead, his steps stiff, like he was physically trying to march away from his embarrassment. Sae followed at a normal pace, lazily sipping his drink, completely at ease.

For Rin, the entire scene back there was a disaster. For Sae, it was hilarious.

“You’re sulking,” Sae commented.

“I’m not,” Rin snapped.

“You’re walking too fast.”

“I always walk fast.”

“You’re radiating secondhand embarrassment.”

Rin clenched his jaw. “Maybe because someone humiliated me in front of people?”

Sae hummed. “I saved you, actually.”

Came to an abrupt stop and Rin turned around. “From WHAT? Having a normal conversation? They didn’t even know who I was!”

“Exactly,” Sae said, taking another sip. “Which made it even funnier.”

Rin let out a sound that was somewhere between a groan and an exasperated yell. “You’re the worst.”

Sae shrugged, looking absolutely unbothered. “I don’t see the problem. You got compliments. Free validation. Thought you’d enjoy that.”

“I enjoy it when it’s not followed by you pulling the biggest sibling sabotage of all time.”

The older Itoshi tilted his head. “Was it sabotage, though? Or did I just tell the truth?”

Rin glared at him. “Oh my god, I hate you.”

“Mm. But you still followed me here.”

“Because we were supposed to be getting lunch.”

Sae glanced at the time. “Right. That. So, where are we eating?”

Rin blinked. His brain was still stuck in rage mode, and he’d completely forgotten that they had left the house for food in the first place.

A long, tired sigh left his lips. “You’re paying.”

Sae raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because you owe me.”

“For what?”

“For emotionally scarring me for life.”

Sae considered it for a second. Then he shrugged. “Fine. But don’t order something expensive.”

Rin groaned again. Today was exhausting. And it wasn’t even halfway over yet.

The streets were packed with people, the weekend crowd making everything louder and more chaotic than usual. Rin was still brooding over earlier, scowling at nothing in particular, while Sae walked beside him, hands in his pockets, looking completely unaffected.

Neither of them was paying much attention to their surroundings—until it happened .

Out of nowhere, a pair of hands latched onto Rin’s wrist.

“Congratulations, sir! You’re our lucky guest of the hour!” a voice chirped.

His entire body froze. Before he could react, before he could process, a very strong, very determined maid-dressed girl started dragging him toward an entrance.

“Wh—hey, wait, wait—” Rin tried to pull back, but whoever she was, she had an iron grip. “I’m not— I didn’t—”

“Come, come, Master! You’ve been chosen for today’s special seat! It’s fate!”

His heels dug into the ground, but another maid had appeared, assisting in pulling him forward like he was some lost child being dragged to a theme park ride.

His eyes shot toward his brother. “Nii-chan, help!”

Sae had already turned away.

Rin gasped. “You traitor!”

But before Sae could escape, a second pair of hands locked onto him.

“Oh my gosh! You too, sir! What a perfect pair! Master and his… uh… brother?”

Sae’s expression remained blank as he side-eyed the hands on his sleeve. “Let go.”

“No way! We can’t let your cute little brother sit alone! You have to come with him!”

“I don’t have to do anything,” he replied flatly.

But unlike normal civilians who backed off when faced with Sae’s deadpan coldness, the maid just giggled. “Oh, you’re the tsundere type! Perfect!”

And just like that, Sae Itoshi, football prodigy, international athlete, and the most uninterested human being on Earth, was also dragged inside .

The next thing Rin knew, they were sitting inside a maid café —soft pink frills everywhere, cheery music playing, and waitresses in cute maid outfits greeting guests with bright smiles.

Rin slumped forward, defeated. His hands covered his face.

Sae, meanwhile, sat with his arms crossed, his face completely unreadable. After a long pause, he sighed.

“So,” he said. “What’s for lunch?”

A laminated menu was placed in front of them with a cheerful thump.

“Here you go, Masters!” the maid chirped. “Our special menu today is the Magical Love Omurice, hand-drawn with a custom ketchup message just for you! Or maybe you’d like the Moe Moe Kyun Deluxe Parfait?”

Rin blinked twice at the menu.

Sae once.

Neither of them moved.

The maid tilted her head, smiling. “Would you like me to recommend something?”

Sae’s eyes lifted slowly from the menu. “No.”

Rin, who was still partially covering his face, finally sighed and grabbed the menu properly. He needed food. That was the only thing keeping him here. That was it.

The problem was, there were no normal food names on this menu .

Every dish was something ridiculous. Fluffy Bunny Pancakes. Magic Sparkle Curry. Lovely Nyan Nyan Rice .

Rin swallowed. “Do you… have anything that doesn’t make me want to die when I order it?”

The maid giggled. “Oh no, Master! You have to say the full name for the magic to work!”

“Magic my a—”

Before he could finish, she turned to Sae. “And what about you, Master Tsundere?”

Sae’s eye twitched.

“...Just give me whatever’s fastest,” he muttered.

“Okaaay! Two Magical Love Omurices coming up!”

Rin groaned. “You just ignored what I—”

“Also!” She clapped her hands excitedly. “Because you two are new, we’ll be doing the special ‘Moe Moe Kyun’ magic spell together!”

Rin dropped the menu.

Sae blinked at her, blankly.

A long silence stretched between them.

"No."

"Absolutely not."

Both rejected the idea without hesitation.

The maid pouted. "Ehh? But Masters, it won’t taste good without the spell!"

Sae pushed his chair back, already standing up. "Then I’ll starve."

"Same." Rin followed suit. 

Just as they turned to leave, a spotlight beamed down on them out of nowhere.

"EVERYONE, ATTENTION PLEASE!"

A different maid stood at the front of the café, holding a mic. "We have two special guests who will be performing our legendary Moe Moe Kyun Spell!"

Applause erupted. Heads turned. Eyes locked onto them.

They had been set up.

The first maid giggled behind them. "Oops! Did I forget to mention? It’s a house rule! If you refuse, you have to do it on stage instead!"

Rin stopped breathing. Sae's patience expired.

The brief moment of hesitation was all it took.

A cheerful duo of maids grabbed them both before they could bolt, dragging them back down to their seats. Around them, the café was alive with excitement, some customers already pulling out their phones.

Rin gritted his teeth. "I'm going to burn this place down."

Sae, blank-faced and defeated, muttered, "I'll help."

The maid leading the ritual clapped her hands together. "Alright, Masters! On the count of three!"

Hands formed a heart shape in front of them, waiting for them to follow. Rin stared at his hands as if they were foreign objects. Sae looked like he was mentally filing a lawsuit.

"One, two… Moe! Moe! Kyun~!"

With dead eyes, both of them mirrored the movement.

A chorus of "Kawaii!!" exploded around them.

Rin wanted to sink into the earth.

Sae, staring into the void, muttered, "We’re never speaking of this."

Chapter Text

Sprawled out on the bed, Rin let out a deep sigh, staring blankly at the ceiling. 

The soft hum of the night filled the quiet room, but his mind was anything but peaceful. The memory of that place—the frilly uniforms, the forced “moe moe kyun” nonsense—sent another involuntary shiver down his spine.

Never again. He was never stepping foot in a maid café ever again.

…Okay, maybe one exception. The food was ridiculously good, annoyingly so. He hated to admit it, but those stupidly cute maids actually knew how to cook.

Rolling over, he buried his face into the pillow, hoping to erase the day's embarrassment from his brain. But instead of fading, another thought crept in—one that lingered.

It had been a strangely normal day. Maybe too normal. No fights, no stress. Just him and Sae…existing.

And somehow, that felt off.

Something was coming. He could feel it.

Rin let out a huff, shutting his eyes. He was probably overthinking. His brain always did this—acting like some kind of ominous premonition machine when, in reality, nothing was happening.

Everything was fine. Normal, even.

For once, life wasn’t throwing him into chaos. No tension, no unresolved arguments, no suffocating expectations weighing on his chest. Just a ridiculous day at a café, a full stomach, and the comforting silence of his room.

Whatever weird feeling was creeping in—it was just in his head.

With that final thought, he exhaled slowly, letting sleep take over.

He’s lying…

He doesn't love you...

‘Nii-chan hates you.’

Rin jolted awake with a sharp gasp. His chest rose and fell rapidly as he pushed back his damp hair, the sweat clinging to his skin. Something felt off. He could feel it—a presence creeping at the edge of his awareness. His gaze flickered toward his right shoulder.

Nothing.

But he was sure—

‘He hates you.’

That voice again. Familiar yet distant, as if buried somewhere in his memories. 

It stung, clawing at his chest, no matter how desperately he tried to shove it away. It had been a while since his thoughts spiraled like this. Maybe… ever since he started living with Sae again. A whole week had passed.

Seven days of seeing, feeling, experiencing things that completely contradicted the year of turmoil he’d drowned himself in—the year after Sae abandoned their dream. And yet, despite everything that had been said, despite the fragile truce they seemed to have now, the past still existed. It was the truth.

And never once had Sae acknowledged it.

Rin remembered vividly how his brother dismissed him back then, brushing everything off as a rebellious phase. As if that made any of it hurt less. As if it erased the words that had been thrown at him.

So he’d pushed it aside. Buried it. Told himself it didn’t matter anymore.

Because admitting it—admitting how much it still affected him—meant opening himself up to that pain again.

To the truth.

And if that truth was that everything between them now was just an illusion—just a temporary facade—then he… he wasn’t sure if he could handle that.

The weight in his chest grew heavier.

The room felt suffocating, dim despite the morning light filtering through the curtains. Hollow. Just like back then.

Spirits were drawn to emotions like this—sorrow, grief, the kind of emptiness that made a person vulnerable. They lurked in moments of weakness, feeding on the energy. Just like now. No… ever since he found out about Pocchi, his emotions had been a mess. A storm of anger, sadness, confusion. And they came crawling. Lingering.

It was getting harder to tell the difference.

Were these thoughts truly his? The whispers, the weight pressing down on him—were they all his own demons, or something else entirely?

But no. He knew this much was real.

Because there was proof, wasn’t there?

Sae had never once told him he was wrong.

He had never said, I was wrong, Rin. You matter.

All he’d ever said was—

"I was wrong. I thought Japan couldn’t produce a great striker."

"The future of Japanese soccer is Isagi Yoichi."

Another weight slammed into his chest. Another brick thrown his way. Another reminder of where he stood in Sae’s eyes.

Nothing.

Worthless.

‘You have no value.’

His jaw clenched. His fingers curled into the sheets. The sting in his chest burned, but he forced himself to take a slow, sharp breath.

This wasn’t how his morning was supposed to start.

He refused to let it be.

The best thing he could do now was fight back. Push it all away. Stick to routine.

An hour of meditation should help.

So, without another word, he got up and did just that.

Rin felt lighter now. The air in his room no longer carried the cold weight of sorrow, and the light filtering in felt a little warmer.

Next was breakfast.

As he descended the stairs, the first thing he noticed was the empty living room. It was quiet—except for the faint murmur of a voice coming from the kitchen.

Sae’s voice.

But something was off.

He was speaking in a foreign language—Spanish, probably. And though Rin didn’t understand the words, he could hear it in his tone. Pressed. Tense. Maybe even angry.

That was rare.

Rin could still remember, back when they were younger, how easily Sae used to get mad. But over time, as his brother became more famous, as his focus narrowed solely on soccer, he learned to be composed. Unbothered. That quiet, almost distant nature became second nature to him.

Rin never questioned it. Because through it all, Sae had always treated him the same. And back then, that had been enough.

But now—hearing that familiar edge in his brother’s voice again, even if it wasn’t directed at him—it stirred something deep in Rin’s chest.

Something cold.

Fear.

A quiet, instinctive voice whispered in his mind. Stay away. Don’t get too close. Protect yourself.

And yet—

Another part of him wanted to know. Wanted to understand. Wanted to close the distance.

He didn’t know what to do.

He stood frozen in the living room as the murmuring stopped, and a moment later, Sae stepped out of the kitchen. His face was as composed as ever, but Rin noticed it—the slight crease in his brow, the lingering glint of anger in his eyes.

It wasn’t meant for him. He knew that.

So the best thing he could do was act normal.

“Morning, Nii-chan,” Rin greeted as Sae approached.

But no reply came.

Sae walked straight past him, heading for the front door without a single glance.

The door shut behind him.

Rin stood there, staring after him.

“…Nii-chan?”

His brother didn’t come back.

Since morning, since the moment Sae had left, the voices kept creeping in—whispers tugging at the edges of his mind, making him battle between sinking into them and pushing them away. He couldn’t lose to this. Not now.

Rin tried to focus on reality, on the truth. But his brother’s behavior that morning did nothing to ease his uneasiness. His doubt.

He exhaled, gaze drifting toward the TV—off, silent. He had already eaten breakfast. Taken a shower.

And yet, he still sat there, curled at the end of the couch, knees pulled close to his chest, chin resting on them.

A habit.

A position he always found himself in whenever his thoughts turned into a storm.

His eyes wandered—to the framed picture on the shelf. His brother.

Another thing Rin knew about himself and Sae was that they never fought. Not once when they were kids. Rin had always followed him. And his Nii-chan had always been there.

Until that snowy night.

Their first fight.

The first time Rin had ever raised his voice at him. And the first time, in all his life, that he had heard words like that from Sae—words meant for him.

He blinked, looking away.

Maybe today just wasn’t his day.

Maybe he should just sleep it off, wake up with a clearer head.

Other than that, there wasn’t much else to do. He wasn’t in the mood for games. Horror movies were better at night—when everything was quiet.

His eyes flickered toward the corner of the living room.

The dark figure.

He ignored it, like always. It wasn’t like he could do anything about it.

Instead, his mind wandered.

So this is what it felt like when Nii-chan wasn’t home.

Lonely.

He should be used to it. It had been a long time. He should like it.

And yet, it felt suffocating.

The emptiness of the house pressed in on him, tangled with his own thoughts.

Then—

The front door opened.

Rin snapped out of his thoughts.

Sae was back.

Normally, Rin wouldn’t have cared. He would’ve stayed put, continued whatever he was doing, pretending his brother’s presence didn’t affect him. But today… today was different. The silence in the house had been suffocating, pressing down on him like a weight he couldn't shake. And before he could stop himself, the words slipped out.

"Where were you?"

His own voice startled him. It wasn’t sharp or indifferent like usual. It sounded… hesitant. Almost worried.

Sae barely even looked at him as he walked past, pulling off his jacket. His hair was slightly disheveled from the wind outside, and there was something tense in the way he moved—like his mind was elsewhere, like Rin wasn’t even there.

"Since when do you care?"

The words were spoken so casually, without a second thought. No heat, no malice—just detached. But that somehow made it worse.

Rin felt his chest tighten.

He should’ve scoffed. Should’ve rolled his eyes and thrown back a sarcastic remark, something dismissive, something that made it seem like he didn’t care either. But for some reason, he couldn’t. His throat felt tight, like something had lodged itself there, refusing to be swallowed down.

Because he had cared.

For a brief moment, he had allowed himself to feel something other than anger or resentment. And Sae—his nii-chan —had shut it down in an instant, like it was nothing. Like he was nothing.

Rin’s fingers curled into fists, nails digging into his palms. He didn’t say anything else.

Sae walked past him, heading toward his room. The door clicked shut behind him. Just like that, he was gone again.

And Rin was left alone.

The silence returned, heavier than before, settling over him like a cold blanket. He exhaled shakily and leaned back against the couch, staring blankly at the ceiling.

See? He doesn’t care.

You were right to keep your distance.

You were right to never let yourself hope.

He squeezed his eyes shut. His chest ached, but he wasn’t sure if it was from anger or something deeper—something he didn’t want to name.

Maybe he should just sleep. Maybe if he closed his eyes, the feelings would go away. Maybe if he slept long enough, tomorrow would feel different.

Maybe.

Lunch rolled around, though Rin barely noticed. 

The weight in his chest hadn’t faded, and the emptiness in the house pressed down on him. He sat there for a while, staring at his phone, scrolling through food options without really seeing them. His appetite wasn’t there, but he knew he had to eat.

His gaze flickered toward the stairs. Sae hadn’t come out since he came back. No sounds. No movement.

He’s probably in a bad mood.

The thought should’ve made Rin scoff. Normally, he would’ve just left it alone—would’ve told himself it wasn’t his problem. But today, something felt different. 

Maybe it was because he was already feeling off. Maybe it was the way Sae had brushed him off earlier, like Rin’s concern didn’t even matter. Maybe… maybe it was because, despite everything, he still cared.

Even if Sae never asked, even if he never acknowledged it—Rin still cared.

His fingers hovered over the screen. He could just order for himself like always. But instead, he exhaled and did something he never usually did.

Maybe I could be kind just once.

He hesitated, then stood up. His legs felt stiff from sitting too long, and his steps were slower than usual as he made his way to his brother’s door. He stopped in front of it, hand raised, knuckles barely grazing the wood.

He probably won’t even answer.

Still, he knocked. Just twice. Not too loud, not too soft.

Silence.

Rin licked his lips, debating whether to just walk away, but then he spoke. “I’m ordering food.” His voice wasn’t loud, but it carried through the quiet hallway. “Do you want anything?”

Again, nothing.

Rin sighed, already pulling out his phone to just order whatever. But then—

"Do whatever you want."

The response came, muffled through the door. Tired. Distant.

Something about it made Rin pause. Maybe it was the tone. Maybe it was the fact that his brother still hadn’t opened the door. Maybe it was because it reminded him too much of their last fight, of the coldness in Sae’s voice that night in the snow.

His stomach twisted.

His grip on his phone tightened. He could just leave it alone. He could pretend it didn’t bother him. That’s what he was supposed to do, right?

But—

Why does it still hurt?

He swallowed, looking at the door one last time before turning away.

Fine. If Sae didn’t care, then Rin wouldn’t either.

He told himself that, over and over. But as he placed the order, adding Sae’s usual meal without asking again, the ache in his chest only grew heavier.

The food arrived not long after. 

The smell filled the house, but Rin barely noticed. He set the bags on the table, moving a little slower than usual, his thoughts lingering on Sae’s cold response earlier.

Do whatever you want.

It wasn’t the words that bothered him. It was the feeling behind them. The emptiness. The distance. Like Rin could disappear, and Sae wouldn’t even blink.

He exhaled sharply, forcing himself to push those thoughts away. Just eat and get it over with.

Rin unpacked the food, placing Sae’s meal on the opposite side of the table. He didn’t call him. Didn’t knock again. If his brother wanted to eat, he’d come out on his own.

And after a few minutes, he did.

Sae walked in without a word, his expression unreadable. Rin glanced at him but didn’t say anything either. He just grabbed his chopsticks and started eating. The silence between them was heavy, pressing down like a weight.

For a while, it was just the quiet clinking of utensils. Rin chewed, swallowed, kept his eyes on his food. He thought maybe—just maybe—they’d get through this without anything happening.

Then Sae’s voice broke the silence.

“You didn’t have to order for me.”

Rin stiffened. He didn’t look up. “I know.”

“Then why did you?”

Why? Rin wanted to scoff. Wanted to roll his eyes like usual. But instead, the words slipped out before he could stop them.

“Because I care.”

The moment they left his mouth, he regretted them. Because he knew. He knew what was coming.

Sae sighed, setting his chopsticks down. “You’re always so dramatic.”

Rin’s hands clenched under the table. His appetite vanished, replaced by something heavier.

“I’m not being dramatic.” His voice was quieter now. He wasn’t even sure why he was still trying.

Sae, of course, didn’t let it go. “Then what, huh? You think this makes up for anything?”

Rin’s stomach twisted. What is he talking about?

He finally looked up, meeting Sae’s gaze. And that’s when he saw it—the irritation, the exhaustion.

The anger.

“I never said that,” Rin muttered.

Sae scoffed. “Then what do you want from me?”

Nothing. Rin wanted to say. I don’t want anything. I just—

“I don’t know,” he said instead. And that was the truth. He didn’t know. He just wanted Sae to… what? Look at him properly? Say something that didn’t make him feel like a burden? Be his brother again?

Pathetic.

Sae exhaled sharply, rubbing his temple. “You always do this,” he muttered. “Acting like a lost kid, waiting for me to—”

He stopped. But Rin already knew how that sentence ended.

His chest tightened.

“I’m not—” His voice cracked, and that alone was enough to make him shut up.

Sae clicked his tongue, pushing his chair back. “Forget it.”

And just like that, he stood up. Left his half-eaten meal on the table. Walked away like nothing happened.

Like Rin was nothing.

The door to Sae’s room clicked shut. The food in front of Rin tasted like paper.

He didn’t know how long he sat there. Didn’t know why his hands were trembling.

All he knew was that he had never felt so small.

Rin sat on the floor against his bed, his arms wrapped tightly around his knees, his head buried between them. The room felt colder than before, though he knew that wasn’t true. It was just him. His thoughts. The weight in his chest pressing heavier and heavier.

The voices started again.

Soft at first, like an echo slipping through the cracks of his mind.

‘Why did you even try?’

‘You’re always so dramatic.’

‘Acting like a lost kid—’

Rin squeezed his eyes shut. His fingers dug into his arms, nails pressing against his skin. Ignore it. Ignore it. Ignore it.

But the whispers didn’t stop. They never did.

The presence in the room grew heavier, lingering just beside him. He didn’t need to look. He already knew what was there.

The dark figure stood in the corner, shifting, twisting, its form undefined yet suffocating. It had no face.

‘You think he cares?’

‘He left. He always leaves.’

‘You’re just a burden.’

A sharp breath left Rin’s lips. His body tensed. It’s not real. It’s not real.

The figure moved closer. Cold, invisible fingers trailed along his shoulder, his back, like shadows creeping under his skin. The whispers slithered into his ears, curling into every space in his mind.

But when it spoke—

It was Sae’s voice.

‘Look at yourself.’

‘So pathetic.’

‘You know he doesn’t need you, right?’

Rin’s grip tightened around his knees. His nails pressed harder. He bit his lower lip, forcing the anger down, the fear down, the shame down.

The figure leaned in, a hollow chuckle slipping through the air.

‘You should just disappear.’

Rin’s breath hitched.

And suddenly—his body moved on instinct. His head shot up, eyes burning with something sharp, something furious.

“Shut up.” His voice came out hoarse, low.

The whispers flickered, but the figure didn’t move.

Rin clenched his jaw. “You’re not real.” His voice was harsher this time, anger creeping into every word.

The figure loomed closer, its darkness stretching, but Rin didn’t look away.

“I said shut up .”

The whispers distorted, crackling at the edges, like static on a broken screen.

Rin inhaled sharply, burying his head back into his arms. His body trembled—he didn’t know if it was from exhaustion or frustration. He just knew he couldn’t let it get to him.

Not now.

Not again.

So he stayed there. Curled up. Silent. Pretending he couldn’t hear the whispers still lingering at the edge of his mind.

Rin stirred awake, his body stiff from staying curled up too long. 

The room was dark now, the faint glow of the streetlights outside casting dim lines across the walls. He exhaled, feeling the weight in his chest still there but lighter, just a little.

The shadow was near. He could feel it without looking. 

Lurking at the edge of his vision. But he ignored it. It didn’t matter. Right now, his stomach ached with hunger more than anything else.

Pushing himself up, he stepped out of his room. The house was quiet, save for the dull hum of the fridge and the faint ticking of the clock. His footsteps were light as he moved toward the kitchen.

And then—he saw him.

Sae.

His brother sat on the couch, leaning back, arms crossed, eyes dull yet sharp all at once. Rin didn’t stop. Didn’t hesitate. He walked straight past him, to the kitchen, barely sparing a glance.

He didn’t care. He refused to indulge whatever mood Sae was in today.

Opening the fridge, he pulled out his leftover lunch. He placed it in the microwave, the low whirring sound filling the silence between them. He could feel his brother’s gaze, lingering, but Rin didn’t acknowledge it.

The microwave beeped. He took the food out, setting it on a plate. He had no interest in sitting at the same table as his brother tonight. He’d rather eat with the silence, with the dark figures that had been following him all day. At least they didn’t pretend.

He turned, ready to head back to his room—

But suddenly—

A sharp, cold sensation rushed through him.

The shadows moved. Fast. Too fast.

A whisper, low and mocking—

'You’re running away again.'

And then—his hands jerked.

The plate slipped from his grip.

The loud crash echoed through the house, shattering the silence.

Rin stood frozen, staring at the broken ceramic scattered across the floor, his breath caught in his throat.

For a moment, everything stilled.

Then—

"Can't you do something simple and not make a mess?" Sae said, not even turning to look at him. His tone was sharp, cutting through the heavy silence.

Rin clicked his tongue, already bending down to pick up the shattered pieces. "What's wrong with you today?" His voice came out rougher than he intended, irritation bubbling beneath his skin.

"You’re asking me that?" Sae scoffed. 

He finally turned, arms still crossed, gaze cold. "Maybe stop acting like a sulking kid and I wouldn’t have to deal with this."

Rin’s fingers twitched around the broken ceramic. A dull ache settled in his chest, the weight of the day pressing heavier. He exhaled, forcing himself to stay composed. "You’re the one with the attitude since morning," he muttered.

Sae narrowed his eyes. "And you’re acting like it’s my job to cater to you."

That hit somewhere deep.

Rin gritted his teeth, a bitter taste forming in his mouth. "Forget it," he said, standing up abruptly. The broken shards clinked in his hands as he threw them into the trash. "I don't care anymore."

But before he could turn away, the shadows stirred.

The figures at his side whispered, their voices threading into his brother’s, merging until he could barely tell the difference.

‘Of course, you don’t care. You’re a burden. You always were.’

His hands clenched.

‘You think he wants to deal with you?’

Rin bit the inside of his cheek, keeping his head down as he washed his hands. The cold water stung, but he welcomed it. 

Anything to ground himself.

Sae, unaware of the storm in Rin’s head, sighed heavily. "You’re too sensitive, Rin." His voice was quieter now, but it wasn’t comforting. It was dismissive. "Just grow up already."

Something in Rin snapped.

He let out a short, bitter laugh, shaking his head. "Yeah. Right. What’s your deal?" Rin took a step towards his brother, his fists clenched at his sides. "If you have a problem, just say it straight to my face."

Sae exhaled sharply, finally meeting Rin’s glare with one of his own. "You’re being dramatic."

"Dramatic?" Rin scoffed, the heat in his chest igniting. "Coming from you?" His nails dug into his palms, his voice laced with something ugly, something bitter. "You're the one walking around like the whole world owes you something."

Sae’s expression didn’t change, but Rin wasn’t done. 

He could feel it bubbling inside him, years of resentment, of hurt, of words left unsaid.

"You’re pissed at me for something, right? Then just spit it out already," Rin snapped. "Or is this just another thing you’re gonna run from—just like you ran from Japan? From our dream?"

The moment the words left his mouth, the room dropped into a heavy silence.

Sae's eyes darkened, and for the first time tonight, Rin saw something crack through his cold exterior.

"A dream?" Sae repeated, his voice eerily quiet. Then, his lips curled into something almost mocking. "Don't make me laugh. That so-called dream was never ours. It was mine."

Rin froze.

"You were just tagging along."

The air in his lungs vanished.

Sae kept going, merciless. "You had no vision, no ambition—just a desperate need to follow me around like a lost puppy." His tone was void of hesitation, pure and cruel. "And now you think you’re my equal? That you’re even worth standing next to me?"

Rin couldn’t breathe.

The world blurred at the edges.

He knew this. This cutting, merciless side of Sae. He had seen it countless times before—how his brother’s words could tear people down like they were nothing. How he never held back once he was set off.

But it was never meant for him.

Not until that snowy night.

Not until now.

Rin swallowed, but it felt like shards of glass scraping down his throat. Because he knew how this would go.

Sae wouldn’t care. He never did.

All his past victims were strangers, rivals—people he could easily discard. He never thought about the aftermath, never saw the wreckage he left behind. Because to him, it didn’t matter.

And now Rin was just another name on that list.

Another circle, repeating itself all over again.

Sae exhaled, looking at Rin with something unreadable. But before Rin could process it, another blow came.

"Face it, Rin. Without me, you’re nothing."

His breath hitched.

Something surged in his eyes, burning, unbearable. He bit his lower lip hard enough to taste iron.

No.

He wouldn’t show it. He wouldn’t break.

But it hurt. God, it hurt.

‘Why?’

The whisper came, curling around him like smoke.

‘Why do you still try?’

‘You’re just proving him right.’

"You should get lost before I get more pissed," Sae said.

Rin barely registered the words before something shifted in his vision. A slight blur, something warm tracing his cheek.

Wet.

He blinked, and more tears poured down.

A slow, dawning horror settled in his chest.

He had never—never gotten the chance to react before. Not that night in the snow. Sae had walked away before he could even process the pain, before he could even understand that something inside him had shattered.

But now—now, they were face to face. In their home. No room to escape. No way to pretend it didn’t happen. And Rin—Rin was the one blocking the way to the stairs.

His breath trembled. Silence stretched between them, heavy, suffocating.

No sobs came. No words. Just silent tears.

His lips curled, barely, instinctively. His mother’s voice echoed in his mind.

"If you’re sad, you should smile, Rin. It’ll make you feel better."

He forced it.

The corners of his mouth lifted, but it felt wrong—so wrong. Heavy, unnatural. His chest heaved, the ache only deepening as more tears slipped past his defenses.

It wasn’t a real smile. It couldn’t be.

The frown pressing against it was too strong. The pain was too raw.

And when he finally looked up, all he saw was Sae’s face, stiff and unreadable, another frown forming but no words coming out.

Rin bit his lower lip hard enough to stop its quiver. He had to move. He had to get away.

"Rin—"

He turned before his brother could say anything else. His steps were fast, almost stumbling, his heart hammering too loud in his ears.

He reached his room, slammed the door behind him, and slid down against it, curling into himself, his head buried between his knees.

The shadows swirled around him.

The whispers were waiting.

The whispers welcomed him back like an old friend.

‘Pathetic.’

‘He never cared.’

‘You’re nothing to him.’

They slithered around him, crawling beneath his skin, curling in his ears with Sae’s voice, perfectly imitated—cold, sharp, merciless.

‘You should get lost.’

‘Before I get more pissed.’

Rin clenched his fists, pressing them against his ears, but it didn’t help. The words were already inside him, spreading like rot, festering in places he thought he’d sealed shut.

His breath hitched.

Why?

Why did it hurt so much?

He’d fought his brother before. He’d lost count of how many times Sae had belittled him, brushed him aside like he was nothing. He should be used to this.

‘You’re nothing.’

His shoulders trembled. He sucked in a sharp breath, trying to steady himself, but his chest felt too tight, like it might cave in at any moment.

Then, something cold slithered along his shoulder.

Rin stiffened.

The shadow.

It loomed over him, pressing closer, as if it had weight—real, solid, suffocating. Its presence had always been there, lingering at the edges of his vision, but now, it curled beside him, shifting, taking form.

Not just a figure anymore.

Not just a whisper.

It was him.

His own reflection, warped in the darkness, eyes hollow, mouth curled into something twisted.

"See?" it murmured, voice soft, almost soothing. "You’re alone."

Rin bit his lower lip until the taste of iron coated his tongue.

No.

He wasn’t.

His fingers dug into his sleeves, gripping onto the fabric like a lifeline. He had to push it back. He couldn’t let it win.

But the figure only chuckled, its edges flickering, shifting, pressing closer.

"You can’t ignore me forever."

Rin squeezed his eyes shut.

Breathed in.

Breathed out.

Tried to ground himself, tried to focus on anything but the weight pressing down on him, the words echoing in his head.

But then—

A knock.

Soft. Hesitant.

His breath caught.

"...Rin."

Sae’s voice. This time, real.

Rin didn't move.

Didn't answer.

His fingers dug deeper into his arms, holding himself together.

He refused to let himself hope.

Chapter Text

A single knock.

“Rin.”

Sae’s voice was quiet, almost hesitant, but Rin didn’t move. He kept his head buried between his knees, fingers curled into his arms. He waited—waited for another knock, another call of his name, for something more.

But nothing came.

The silence stretched, heavier than before, pressing against his ears, his chest. He didn’t even hear footsteps walking away—just the sound of his own breathing, shallow and uneven. And then— click.

Sae’s door.

He didn’t even hesitate. He didn’t stand outside, thinking about what he’d said. He just… left.

Rin squeezed his eyes shut.

Of course. Of course.

Sae never had to deal with the aftermath—he never cared enough to. Not back then, not now. Maybe he didn’t even see a reason to. Maybe he really meant it when he said Rin was nothing.

A burden.

His chest tightened, breath hitching, but he refused to let it out. He pressed his forehead harder against his knees, curling in tighter, like it would somehow make everything stop—the twisting in his stomach, the heaviness in his ribs, the burning in his eyes.

The whispers crept back in, slithering through the cracks of his mind.

‘You’re nothing.’

‘No value.’

‘He’s done with you. Again.’

They murmured in distorted yet sharp, and he wanted to block them out—wanted to tell them to shut up—but he didn’t have the strength. Not anymore.

The shadows shifted, moving closer, but he ignored them.

Because the truth was, they weren’t the worst thing in the room.

He was.

His fingers dug into his arms, nails pressing hard enough to leave half-moon marks against his skin. His whole body felt tight, like if he let go even a little, he’d fall apart completely.

The worst part wasn’t even the things Sae said. It was the fact that he was right.

What was Rin, really?

He told himself he was strong. That he’d prove Sae wrong, that he’d make his own future. But what future? He chased after a dream Sae already abandoned. He spent years trying to be someone Sae would acknowledge—someone worth looking at—but all he ever got was disappointment.

He couldn’t even stand on his own without that haunting him.

You’re nothing.

The words clawed at his mind, repeating over and over, louder each time.

You’re not special.
You only exist in his shadow.
He’s already forgotten about you.

Maybe it would be easier if he just… stopped trying.

What was the point? If no matter what he did, he’d always be the little brother left behind, the failure, the burden—then maybe fighting against it was just wasting time.

His throat burned, but he swallowed it down, pressing himself deeper into his knees.

The shadows wrapped around him like they agreed, their whispers coiling in his ears.

"Just give up."

And maybe, just maybe, Rin was starting to believe them.

Rin squeezed his eyes shut, his breathing felt too shallow, too fast—like he couldn’t pull in enough air, no matter how much he tried.

The room was too quiet. Too loud.

The sound of Sae’s door clicking shut echoed in his ears, rattling around his skull like it was mocking him. That was it. That was all. A single knock, a name called once, and then—nothing.

Like Rin wasn’t even worth the effort.