Work Text:
Each breath of air stung, and his muscles ached. A hand rested on his chest as he continued breathing in and out, eyes closed, with his back against the ground, soaked with seawater.
Everything took a moment to process, and then—
“I’m alive.”
The words scratched out, having gathered his breath from the run to beat the water from washing him away, what he expected, and he almost flung the memory card to Ayamu, yet—
“You’re alive! You’re actually alive!” Ayamu collapsed into his chest while her younger brother sobbed uncontrollably, joining her. He reached up, patting both of them on the back, remembering when he’d watch the two with his mother for their neighbors who were no longer there.
They were all orphans, thanks to the catastrophe, orphans waiting for some kind of answer, some kind of hope. “It’s going to be okay. Because we’re family.”
Ayamu stiffened, the sobbing slowing, stopping, while Go clung tighter, sobbing more.
“I’ll take care of you two, okay,” he promised. “When we get out of here, because we’re family.”
Go nodded his head. “We’re family. Because, because of what we went through, right?”
Ayamu pulled away slightly. “Right. Because of what we went through.”
Haruo laughed, then softly. “You’ve always been my imoto and ototo, you know.”
“Right,” Ayumu said, sounding rather unimpressed by this resolution, something Haruo’s mind didn’t quite register as they waited for rescue to come, for Kite to fly up and signal they were waiting to be rescued, and then—
The rescuers almost separated them, because they weren’t biological family, but he quickly waved them over. “No. We’re family. It’s my job to look after them.”
“Just how old are you?”
“Seventeen, almost eighteen,” Haruo said.
“We have to separate you three for medical purposes,” the man said, “But then we’ll make sure the three of you are kept together as you asked.”
Waiting for that moment—
Haruo agonized, thinking the people who were rescuing individuals from Japan wouldn’t let them stay together, but then—
Apparently, the researcher who had warned everybody had also signed on to be a part of their family unit, strange as it was, resulting in them being quite the family, a man paralyzed from the neck down, a teen who hadn’t yet finished high school, a girl who had her foot amputated, and a little kid who’d much rather play games.
But it seemed like a miracle to have a home, a family, as Haruo went about making one of the dishes he remembered his mother making, while Ayamu didn’t offer up any of the dishes her mother might make, the hope being in Haruo’s head that she might eventually do so.
Go helped as someone his age could, often setting the table, or helping with simple dishes, while a nurse’s aid came to help with their adoptive father figure.
“So, you start track today?” Go asked.
“I’ve gotten through physical rehab, so yes,” Haruo said.
“Lucky you,” Ayamu said.
“Hey. You’ll get there,” Haruo said. “Don’t give up on that Olympic dream of yours.”
“Says…” Ayamu almost let slip that he was a lot farther along in that dream, and then, “Haruo. Can we talk?”
“We are talking.”
“No. Without Go?”
A motion with his eyes indicated to Go that he should come with their wheelchair bound adoptive parent, and they headed out.
“You talk about making my dreams come true.”
“Yes.”
“But how can they? You said you’ve always thought of me as a sibling,” Ayamu said.
Harao frowned. “I’m not following.”
“Because you’re so dense!” Ayamu said. “I like you! As in like you, like you!”
“I…” Harao stared, then. “Ayamu. I’m sorry.”
“For not realizing, or because…”
“Both.” He frowned, then, “You’ll meet someone closer to you in age. You’ve still got all of high school, while I’m moving onto college.”
“That…”
“And I guess as the nii-chan, it’s my job to make sure they treat you right?” He then frowned. “I don’t think I’d do as good a job as your dad, though.”
Ayamu frowned. “Right.”
“Ayamu…”
“It’s okay. I got it off my chest. There isn’t a chance…”
“No,” he said. “You shouldn’t hold out for such things. Not when you can reach for the stars.”
“You think so?”
“I’m your big brother, so of course.”
“Not very helpful, Harao.”
“I know. I’m a lousy older brother.”
“No, that isn’t true,” Ayamu said. “You’re not a good mom, that’s what.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. Girl talk is not your thing.”
He thought about it and then laughed. “We good?”
“We’re good.”