Work Text:
The first time it happens, she doesn't really worry about it. Of course, it's a pity that Rin broke a toy he was so fond of, but that happens a lot with young children… Even if it never happened with Sae. Rin even apologizes in his high-pitched voice, a discreet “sorry Mom” barely articulated under his big brother's watchful eyes. So she doesn't worry about it, even when, as she picks up the pieces of plastic scattered on the carpet in her sons' bedroom, she wonders how Rin managed to break that little car into a million little pieces.
The second and third times, she still thinks it's normal. Her husband agrees. They scold Rin a little, and he looks at them with his big, innocent eyes, as if he were too small to understand them scolding him – even though he's not a baby anymore. Sae is never far away. Or rather, Sae is always there, at Rin's side, holding his hand until she tells them that she and their father aren't really upset and are just a little sad about Rin's toys.
“It hurts for them, you know,” she says as softly as she can before continuing with her explanation, “and they must be very sad that they can't play with you anymore.”
Rin looks at the broken half of a hero she's holding. If he'd only broken an arm, they could have fixed it, but now, with his legs snapped in two and his arms missing, it won't be protecting anything anymore. The little boy remains motionless, but when Sae whispers a discreet “Rin” to him, he nods.
“Are they really sad? For real for real?”
“For real,” she replies.
Her husband chimes in. “That's right, Rin. If you got hurt and couldn't play with Sae anymore, you'd be sad too, wouldn't you?”
This time, Rin's reply is immediate. His face, which until now had shown no emotion, changes expression, and he puffs out his cheeks, his face dusted pink.
“Even if I get hurt, I'm going to play with nii-chan!”
“If you're hurt, you can't… No, it's nothing. Toys are like you, they want to play with their little kids, but for them to do that, you have to take care of them. Can you do that?”
“Yes, Mom…”
As soon as the conversation is over, Sae drags his brother upstairs to play in their room. Once they've disappeared, she turns to her husband who looks back at her with the same resignation in his eyes. They both feel it – Rin didn't understand a single word they've said. No, perhaps it isn't right. He understood them just right, but their meaning hasn't sunk in. But it'll be all right. After all, it's just a phase all children go through, isn't it?
* * *
When Sae is old enough to join the local football club, he's never looked so happy. On the pitch at least. Off it, his expression remains neutral, even when she, his coach, or even his teammates come to congratulate him on leading the team to victory. He only smiles when Rin runs to him, the biggest grin on his round face as he tries stringing together coherent sentences – and fails. After the fifth “Nii-chan, you're so cool”, Sae pats his head gently before leaving for the changing room, Rin following closely.
It's always the same. They're in their own world and no one else is allowed in, not even their mother. On the way home, they only talk to each other, shuffling along the pier, eating popsicles from the store by the sea while she walks a few meters behind.
She loves seeing them like this, stuck together like two little chicks competing to see who gets the winning stick. But it would be nice if Sae could fit in with the rest of the team too – in just a few weeks, he's become its heart and pillar, and she often finds herself talking to the coach, who couldn't be happier with the appearance of a genius like him in the district. The only problem, he tells her, is her eldest son's attitude. He doesn't seem to pay much attention to the members of his team off the pitch, and even though the other kids don't seem to mind, it worries him somewhat. Maybe he spends too much time with his brother. The same goes for Rin, who has never asked to bring friends home. It's true that his kindergarten classmates complain about him a lot as he provokes a lot of fights but…
So, for the next practice session, she lets Sae go alone – he's a mature kid, she trusts him – and stays home with Rin. He doesn't scream, and no tears roll down his chubby cheeks, but he locks himself in his room to play. She tells herself it'll pass, that he's just annoyed not to see Sae for a few hours, and that she'll take him to the local park soon to play with other children… But when she goes to his room a few minutes later, she's speechless.
Toys she knew were perfectly organized on the shelves and in the toy box are now scattered around the room, most of them with missing parts and other cracks. The book her husband had bought Sae to learn to read and write hiragana has a few pages torn out. And sitting in the middle of it all, quietly playing with a monster and a superhero figurine, is Rin. When he notices her, he waves the hand holding the monster as if to greet her before continuing his make-believe game.
For the first time in her life since having her children, she feels overwhelmed. No, that's a lie – she's been feeling this way for a while now with Rin. Where did she go wrong with this child?
Sae comes home earlier than usual that day, with a double popsicle which he divides in half to give to Rin. It's as if nothing had happened for the youngest who eats the ice cream happily, ignoring how it runs down his chin and onto his hands. Sae pulls his sports towel out of his bag and hurriedly wipes the corner of Rin's mouth.
“Were you drooling again?”
“Sorry…”
“It's nothing, just be careful.”
She wonders if maybe she'd made a mistake in raising Rin, if maybe she'd relied too much on Sae.
* * *
Rin's teachers call often. As soon as she sees the now-familiar number appear on her screen, her whole body tenses – when her husband's there, he shakes his head. He sometimes tries to tell her that all boys go through this, but then how do you explain Sae? Sae has never done anything like this, never jumped off the jungle gym in the playground, never fought to the point of coming home covered in bruises, never smashed his toys into dust… The only moments of respite seem to be when Rin accompanies Sae to his football games – when he's with Sae at all actually. The pocket money she's given her eldest to buy things with his teammates disappears into popsicles he shares with his brother and nothing else.
Perhaps it would be better to observe the situation from a distance. The more they try to talk to Rin, to reason with him, the more he withdraws and the more Sae covers for him. It's strange that he feels the need to protect his little brother so much when most boys his age prefer to leave their younger siblings behind to play with friends.
Their house is big enough to accommodate two children's bedrooms with plenty of room to play in and a TV in each, but no matter how many times her husband suggests the two brothers split up, they refuse. Rin shakes his head without stopping, a habit he's kept from his “no” phase as a baby, and Sae remains calm, stopping all negotiation with a simple “If Rin doesn't want it then me neither”. And she comes to think it's for the best – Sae is the only one capable of curbing his little brother's destructive tendencies, and if she dares leave Rin alone for too long, who knows what could happen… She shudders just thinking about it.
And then Rin starts playing football. He, who has always seemed content to watch his brother from afar, is now on the field with him. All the problems that kept her up late into the night seem to disappear with just that. Of course, Rin doesn't become the ideal little boy all of a sudden. He stays in his corner with Sae (especially since they're both in primary school now) and interacts with his teammates only when they're playing, but it's a big step forward. The toys she cleans up from their room are now in perfect condition, only a little messed up, and he no longer comes home covered in injuries (apart from those caused by his new favorite sport).
When her husband wraps his arms around her and chuckles, telling her it was really just a phase, she sighs, finally relieved. Even if their sons are still a little too close, that can be explained by the fact that they're often left alone at home, and having a big brother as considerate as Sae is a blessing for Rin… Yes, that's it. Nothing that can't change as they grow up. Like kids who are overly attached to their parents and become more independent as they mature, Rin relies on Sae too much, but he will outgrow this attachment.
She should just enjoy their good relationship for now. Everyone knows that teenagers aren't the greatest with their families – even if she strongly doubts that Rin will ever turn against his brother.