Work Text:
One thousand, two hundred twenty three, one thousand, two hundred twenty four, one thousand, two hundred twenty five…
Jyushimatsu loves to laugh. He loves to laugh because it makes everyone happy. He loves when his five brothers smile in relief after being so sad. He loves laughing during the times he can’t breathe, too, because then he can keep himself from crying.
One thousand two hundred twenty six, one thousand two hundred twenty seven, one thousand two hundred twenty eight --
His chest aches.
It happens sometimes. Jyushimatsu doesn’t know why, but it’s probably because he thinks a lot. He thinks and he thinks and he thinks so much that his body tenses, muscles ache, his chest hurts more and more until he can’t breathe.
(his brothers stop smiling, his brothers do bad things to themselves because they hurt so bad, his brothers leave one day and don’t come back, they leave him behind, they leave him behind because he can’t keep up -- )
It’s a little scary, when he thinks too hard, but it’s been happening for so long that he knows how to make it stop, at least a little.
He counts his baseball swings.
One thousand two hundred twenty nine, one thousand two hundred thirty, one thousand two hundred thirty one, one, one --
Jyushimatsu has always loved counting.
He was proud at being able to count the highest when they were all younger, he and his brothers – far higher than any of them could. Not even Choromatsu could keep up as he counted. And he was so, so proud of that. The grin he would sport when he got praise never stopped, never tensed, never made him feel like his chest was tightening up and going to explode if he didn’t remember how to breathe.
He hasn’t stopped smiling since. Not really. Not even when the bad things happened. He would try to keep smiling, and the only time he could ever remember his brothers seeing him cry was when he had to say goodbye to his first love.
One thousand two hundred thirty two, one thousand two hundred thirty three, one thousand two hundred thirty four…
He was counting that day too.
Today, Jyushimatsu woke up feeling that tightness. He opened his eyes and thought,
Ah, it’s baseball day.
And so he crept out in the early morning light. He made sure to slip away as quickly and quietly as he could – like jello, he would wiggle his way (wiggle, wiggle) from his spot on the futon without disturbing any of his still – sleeping brothers – and hopped down the stairs (quietly, quietly) to grab his bat.
Counting. He needs to count until he could breathe right again. It was just the natural order of things, right? That was how this was done. It was like how his older brothers helped put band aids on his hands and knees when he got scraped up. It helps forget the pain, even if it was still there when he peels off the band aid.
One thousand two hundred thirty five.
He’d been out here all morning, and he is still swinging. It must be past breakfast, because he can smell the food his mother cooked, but he didn’t make any indication of going inside. His chest feels like fire, from all the swinging, but he still has that uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. He still feels like he’s going to cry or throw up, or both. The uneasiness is like a coil all strung up, tighter and tighter, and if he breathes any more than he is it will snap.
Just keep swinging. It’s always helped before.
“Working hard, as always, my little Jyushimatsu?”
Jyushimatsu blinked rapidly, one – two – three times, before pumping up his fist in the air, fingers still clenched around the bat.
“Yes!” he replied, absolutely beaming. And he is working hard – he’s always working hard. He can’t be a good baseball player without working hard! Even if he hasn’t played an actual game yet. That’s fine! He just needs to practice, more and more, hustle and hustle and muscle and muscle and one thousand two hundred thirty six --
“-- Jyushimatsu? Jyushimatsu?”
The younger brother snaps out of his thoughts and straightens, lifting both his arms high in the air now and chanting,
“Hustle, hustle! Muscle, muscle! Big king sized home run swing! Karamatsu, let’s go all out to win with a strike out!”
His brother smiles, a little, and the tension in Jyushimatsu’s body lessens a bit. The younger brother lets out a breath that he didn’t realize he was holding. Even if breathing didn’t come any easier, having his favorite second – oldest brother with him did make the tension ebb away just a bit.
With that, he follows his older brother back into the house, cheering and pumping his fists all the while. He doesn’t notice Karamatsu’s pensive frown, eyebrows drawn in a questioning way, as Jyushimatsu joins the family for breakfast. He pretends not to notice, because it’s not important to him.
(One thousand two hundred thirty seven, one thousand two hundred thirty eight…)
Breathing wasn’t coming easier.
It didn’t make any sense. The whole day had gone by, and Jyushimatsu had counted – he had counted so, so far – but his chest still feels tight. He still wants to cry. The whole day passed with Jyushimatsu feeling absolutely drained of energy. He did his best to ignore the knowing, more frequent glances that his second oldest brother would cast. Honestly, they worried too much! Jyushimatsu is Jyushimatsu, and Jyushimatsu is the most hustling, most muscling, home run winning brother. There are so many things that the others depended on him for! They needed him to be the one who didn’t let his worries get to him.
(his brothers going out and not coming back, never coming back, because they got hurt, because Jyushimatsu wasn’t there to protect them, because Jyushimatsu, deep down is probably a bad, selfish brother who doesn’t deserve all the good things he has, because if he did he would just keep smiling and not feel sad)
At least, that’s what he is telling himself. Its nightfall now, and Jyushimatsu is on the roof. It’s a good place to get situated, and the moon is so, so big, and the night air is refreshing.
He feels lonely. But that’s okay! He has five brothers to depend on. Karamatsu, and Ichimatsu, and Chromatsu, and Osomatsu, and Todomatsu. He can go down there any time he wants and be with them, and the loneliness will ebb away until next time.
Yeah.
It’s okay. He doesn’t mind being by himself. In fact, it’s better this way! This way, he can be as loud as he wants. He can laugh up at the sky, at the moon and the stars, and that’s exactly what he does.
He laughs, and laughs, and laughs, he laughs when the hotness in his eyes becomes too much, he laughs as his vision blurs and fogs up, he laughs as his face becomes wet and messy and snotty because he’s too busy laughing to wipe his nose, he laughs as his head bows forward and he covers his eyes with his sleeves, heat rising to his face as wetness slips down his face, which is weird because he hasn’t done that since he said goodbye to Homura.
He laughs as his brother approaches from behind, and he laughs as he is embraced in a hug. He keeps laughing, and laughing, and laughing, because it’s so funny! Everything is so funny. He laughs as Karamatsu sits him down, and doesn’t let go as his brother rubs his back. Karamatsu holds him, gentle but firm, just like he had when they were children. Just like he had held all of them when they were children.
“Jyushimatsu,”
(Karamatsu is a good brother)
“My little Jyushimatsu,”
(Jyushimatsu is a bad brother, because even when he’s supposed to be the happy one, the cheery one, sometimes it’s just too hard.)
“It’s alright, you’re going to be okay, my little brother.”
(he just wants to laugh. Laugh and laugh and laugh until the blurriness goes away, until he feels like he can breathe right and proper, until he can face his brothers with a happy grin)
The yellow brother hadn’t realized it, but his laughs had turned to sobs as Karamatsu held him. Karamatsu hadn’t mentioned it, hadn’t even flinched, which was very impressive because Jyushimatsu feels like his whole world was crashing down.
After what seemed like forever, of anguished sobs turning to small whimpers, Karamatsu finally lets Jyushimatsu pull back. He doesn’t really want to, but he does anyway, wiping at his face with the comically large sleeves he’s always had. Karamatsu gives him a look of sympathy.
“Are you alright?”
(Jyushimatsu thinks that’s a silly question, because there is no right answer – if he tells a lie right now, it would be very obvious, but if he told the truth then it would be a hassle for his brother to deal with.)
He doesn’t answer, and Karamatsu doesn’t push it. Instead, he stands, but when Jyushimatsu goes to follow, he holds out his hand in a “stop” gesture.
“I’ll be right back. Don’t move, okay?”
Jyushimatsu settles back down as Karamatsu disappears from the roof, down the hatch leading to their room, and part of him feels a little disappointed.
(of course his brother wanted to get away from this mess. He wouldn’t be back. That was just something he said to make Jyushimatsu feel better.)
He wraps his sleeves around his knees and closes his eyes. Just as he’s about to start counting again (he was at one thousand three hundred and thirty nine, right?), there’s a rustling as the roof hatch opens up again. Jyushimatsu opens his eyes to find his blue brother there, guitar in one hand, and a pair of shades in the other. Before Jyushimatsu can say anything, Karamatsu plops down and places the shades over Jyushimatsu’s face. The younger brother blinks, before peeking out from under them, watching as Karamatsu fiddles with the guitar. Karamatsu glances up, before giving one of his Cool Guy smiles – not the ones that he thinks are cool, but the ones that are actually cool.
“Do not fret, my brother, even without my glasses I can perform. I feel as if they suit you right now more than me, regardless. Let us partake in a song to commemorate this beautiful night and leave behind all the painful memories that we hold secretly, deep in our hearts!”
(what a good brother he has)
The younger brother nods, and Karamatsu begins his song, with interjections from Jyushimatsu when he feels they fit. Their song goes on for what seems like forever, until Jyushimatsu’s red face has returned to normal and there’s no sign of whatever was bothering him before.
Eventually, he falls asleep, and wakes up to a blanket thrown around his body, and Karamatsu sleeping besides him.
Jyushimatsu sits up and rubs his eyes, letting out an exhale.
It was a new day.
It was a better day.
For the first time since the day before he can remember, Jyushimatsu doesn’t feel the need to count out his baseball swings.