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On the way back from school, situated between two house blocks, there was a perfectly normal park, with a climbing frame, a sandbox, and, what really interested Sae and what they came here for, enough empty space to practice football without getting bothered by anyone. Having nothing in particular to do most of the time, Rin followed him there out of habit. Where his brother went, he went, like a chick following its mother – although he never followed his mother like he did with Sae.
While Sae trained, juggling the ball from one knee to the other and then to the tip of his foot, forming a perfect arc, Rin stayed in the sandbox, away from the other children who had come to play. Holding his favorite monster figurine in one hand, he used the other to form small sand dunes which he then immediately destroyed, with an almost deafening “Gaoo”. The lukewarm sand tickled his skin, getting under his nails and irritating a small cut he got the day before, but his thoughts were so focused on his game that he didn't even feel the dull sting on his hand.
Time passed without Rin noticing how fast it went by, and the sun began to sink below the horizon – the children, who'd once been squealing and running for hours, were now tired, their eyes filled with sleep and their voices trailing off into unintelligible mumbles as they called for their mothers to go home. Sae had now moved on from juggling to shooting against a small wall, occasionally glancing at Rin, who, for once, seemed happy to stay put and was playing alone.
But, after the fifty-third (or maybe fifty-fourth? He wasn't sure) destroyed dune, Rin let go of his monster to stretch out. A yawn escaped him, and it was at that precise moment – with his eyes half-closed and staring into the distance at nothing in particular – that he saw it. Or rather, that he saw them.
Under a tree a few meters away, there were two small mice. Perhaps they'd always been there, hiding to avoid the hustle and bustle of the park during the day before venturing out at night to scavenge some food. Or maybe they had a large family and were about to go and fetch them so they could organize a small mouse party. Rin had no idea, his only knowledge of mice coming from a series of picture books he'd read in kindergarten, but his curiosity was piqued.
This was why he left his toy half-buried in sand and climbed out of the box to approach the rodents. Step by step, he was getting closer to them as they stayed still. He was only a few meters away from them when his name was called loudly, scaring the mice into fleeing immediately. But Rin, curious as he was about them, didn't even think to be disappointed – he recognized his brother's voice, and seeing Sae was more important than watching some mice. When he turned away from the tree he was walking toward, he met face to face with Sae, holding his ball under his arm.
“Nii-chan, are you done?”
“Almost. What were you doing there? Wanna go home now?”
“Mice.”
“Mice? Are there mice here?”
“Right there,” he said, pointing at the tree in front of him. “They left because you yelled.”
“Sorry.”
“'s fine. Are we going home soon?”
“Yeah. How many were there?”
“Two!”
“Probably a mom and its baby,” Sae concluded. “Maybe they went back to their home .”
“I think it's a big brother mouse and a little brother mouse. A Sae mouse and a Rin mouse.”
“It can be whatever you want,” Sae replied – his eyebrows were crunched in displeasure as he imagined his rodent alter ego. “Come on, stay nearby while I finish.”
“Okay!”
Rin glanced at the tree one last time and saw two pairs of bright eyes in the darkness that seemed to be watching their every movement. He waved sheepishly at them before running after his brother.
It would be nice if he could see them again.
Thankfully for him, his wish was granted, and Rin saw them again. From time to time, he'd catch a glimpse of them when he was alone with his brother in the park. Gradually, he even managed to tell them apart – one was a little bigger than the other, and its fur slightly lighter than the small one's, a fact that he immediately reported to Sae. (“You see, Nii-chan, that means there really is a big brother mouse and a little brother mouse! Like us!” “I don't want to be compared to a mouse, Rin.”) Even without approaching them, he could watch them from afar, observing them as they hopped around before scampering away.
It all changed one day when they didn't appear. In the beginning, he thought it was simply an off day, one when they wouldn't show up, but something deep inside him, some kind of instinct that had taken root deep in his heart, like a certitude, pushed him to approach the tree under which seemed to be their burrow.
At first, he saw nothing. With the dying rays of the setting sun barely illuminating the park and the wild bushes surrounding the tree area, it was difficult to see anything. Squinting, Rin walked a little further, past the tree, his eyes flitting around before he suddenly stopped.
In front of him was no mouse… At least, not a whole one
Rin knelt beside the small rodent's corpse, tilting his head to the side as he tried to figure out which one it was. It wasn't really the lack of light that made identification difficult, but rather the state of the poor animal. Perhaps a cat had attacked it – a documentary he watched recently talked about cats playing with their prey even as they died, mangling their bodies. Or perhaps it was an owl – Rin liked these birds, especially their eyes. Either way, now little remained of the mouse he had observed so much.
What a strange feeling.
Only half the body – front limbs and head – was still there. At first, he thought it was the larger mouse – brave as a big brother should be, it had surely faced that predator to give its family a chance to escape… But its fur, stained with blood and dirt, was too dark. No, it was the little mouse, no doubt about it. Its small black eyes, now dull like two dark pearls, were wide open, staring blankly at the orange-dusted sky. Or perhaps they were looking for its big brother – did it really abandon it? Rin glanced around and saw no sign of the other mouse. Only a few traces of blood and tufts of fur on the green grass.
Rin clenched his fist, his nails digging into his palm.
How long did he stay like that, observing that corpse? Enough for Sae to shout his name before running over, ignoring the small branches scratching his bare legs.
“Rin! You’re not supposed to be here—”
He stopped in his tracks when he saw what Rin was looking at and instantly pressed a hand against his little brother’s eyes to block his view before dragging him back inside the park proper. Rin didn’t turn around to give the mouse one last look – even if it hadn’t been for Sae's hand, he wouldn’t have done it, because the scene was now etched behind his eyelids – simply walking at Sae’s brisk pace until he stopped and pulled his hand away from Rin's eyes. Before them was the sandbox where Rin was playing earlier.
Sae motioned for Rin to sit on the concrete curb while he went to retrieve his ball – if he'd left it behind to look for Rin, perhaps he was worried about his whereabouts.
“Rin,” he began… And stopped.
They stood there for a few seconds, staring at each other, as the silence stretched between them, Rin hitting the wall with his heels while Sae was tapping his nails against his ball.
“Hey, Nii-chan,” Rin finally said after the silence got too heavy. “You know, that was the little mouse over there.”
“Ah… There are a lot of cats here, so one must have caught it.”
“I think its big brother left it, Nii-chan. It wasn't anywhere.”
The food chain, as Rin had learned from watching television, was a completely normal thing. Every animal, every living being, had to obey it, and in that chain, mice were at the very bottom of the ladder – the perfect meal for many other animals that were stronger. It was the crystallization of the predator and prey relationship – Rin didn't mind it. He quite liked it even.
But his voice had begun to tremble as he spoke of the other half of his little mouse who had disappeared, the shivers making his words hard to decipher. If he had found it dead, he would have understood – but the big mouse seemed to have vanished, leaving its sibling behind. His vision blurred, the edges of the sandbox and Sae melting with each other as tears filled his eyes.
Suddenly, a familiar warmth enveloped Rin, two hands slightly larger than his own rubbing his back gently as he hiccuped through his explanation. Tears rolled down his cheeks as Sae remained silent. Unable to return the hug, Rin buried his face in the crook of Sae's neck, whispering, “Nii-chan... Nii-chan…” like he used to when he was a baby.
“Don't worry, Rin. Remember, I'm not like that mouse, right? I won't leave you behind.”
Rin nodded weakly. “Nii-chan… Promise?”
“Promise.”
If Sae promised him they'd be together forever, Rin had no choice but to believe it.
* * *
Perhaps that was his mistake.
As he laid curled up in the snow, shed tears frozen on his ice-cold cheeks, Rin thought back to that day as Sae's footsteps faded away, and he cursed himself for having been so naive. In truth, his brother really was different from that big mouse who'd abandoned its sibling to flee, leaving it to be eaten by some animal. Sae was more like a cat – the cat who had played with the little mouse and, having grown tired of it because it couldn't entertain it any longer, had left it to die alone.
And now, Rin had finally become just like that useless little mouse.