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He'd been waiting for a good moment, or maybe for Satomi to come clean himself. Satomi didn't, so eventually it came to when they were sitting on one of the benches at Yakumo Park, down the road from where they had both attended elementary school. They were tired from all the shopping—their mother had insisted he go buy supplies for Satomi to take back to Tokyo ("Toilet paper from the big city will give your brother butt rash!"), and she kept messaging them with more things to add to the already bottomless grocery list. It was only now that they had a moment to breathe, hands full and cheeks red from the touch of cold wind. It was only now that Masami had enough air in his lungs to ask it.
"So how long have you been hanging out with the yakuza?"
Admittedly, he had failed to build up to the question, so it wasn't to much surprise that his brother had a face like he'd been shot right in it. Satomi visibly gulped, and Masami couldn't help but be reminded of the childish feeling of victory when Satomi was still the height of Masami's waist and didn't know how to walk himself out of a lie.
"You only got a couple C's this year. Don't gotta change career paths so quickly. Worst comes to worst, Dad and I can support ya."
Satomi still wasn't saying anything. He was looking off to the side and clenching his jaw hard from behind the 48pk of 3ply. It was time for the waiting game segment of the conversation. Masami let the gusts of wind fill in the silence, though Satomi didn't leave it for long.
"I'm not joining the yakuza, dumbass...just having dinner with one."
So the journalist hadn't lied. Masami put a hand on top of the 48pk of 3ply, a plastic crinkle accompanying the tiny thump.
"Now it just sounds like you're doing compensated dating."
Satomi's eyes widen on cue and his mouth gapes wide. "I'm not—!" His whole face flushes red in a way that reminds Masami of something old. Masami raises a brow, studies the shade of crimson on his little brother's cheeks.
It takes a moment, but Masami sinks back into the bench and sighs, kind of knowing. Kind of accepting. He lifts an arm and ruffles the top of Satomi's head.
"Okay, okay," he reassures. "He looked too handsome to pay for that sort of thing, anyway." Masami turns to glance at Satomi again, then looks back at the singular family braving the cold to play in the park. Sighs again. "Just make sure he treats you right." Satomi makes a noise and Masami elbows him lightly. "And talk to me if he gives you any trouble."
Masami tilts his head back, nape pressing into lacquered wood. What else is there to say? Satomi makes another sound, and Masami watches the clouds of vapour his breaths make in the wind. "I'm your brother, after all."