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For all intents and purposes, Mito had an older brother.
They grew up together, shared dinners and summer vacations and long evenings as Nana told them stories about the Yokai haunting the mountains behind their elementary school. They had soba during the oppressive July heat and their mom’s oden during New Years. When she finally graduated elementary school and became one of the grown up kids at XXX Middle School, she inherited his school books. When an older girl pushed her down the slide on a playground, Harusumi stood his ground and defended her.
Still, she was well aware that her friends’ older siblings were different from hers.
Most older brothers didn’t buy flower petals to add to their bath.
Most older brothers didn’t hide the destroyed pages of their notebooks in the trash can behind their house.
Most older brothers didn’t look at their sister as if she was a stranger.
Her brother was strange. Somewhat alien.
And even if her own observations hadn’t told her as much, Mito listened to their parents talk in the kitchen late at night often enough. How her father thought Harusumi might be wrong somehow, how her mother feared one day her boy would be pushed into doing something stupid.
Tonight, she hadn’t listened in on purpose. After finishing her cram school homework early, she’d snuck out of her room to get some snacks. Saki-chan told her about a new album release dropping tonight, and now Mito hoped she could force their struggling internet connection to actually work for once. Live reacting to some new songs via text sounded like way more fun than yet another math test – or one of her mom’s soaps.
(her mom might love watching Matsuda Ryuhei be pretty on screen, but Mito had better things to do with her precious free time)
Avoiding all the creakiest floorboards, Mito walked slowly down the hall towards the kitchen. The light spilling through the open door was a surprise – she’d forgotten that her dad was home tonight. It was rare for him to come back on a weekday, usually he stayed in the city to cut down on his commute. Slowing down even further, the low murmur of adult voices filled the air.
“—and then his teacher called---“
“Really?“ Dad sounded tired. “Is he being bullied again?“
Again. Ah, so their parents knew that the kids in Harusumi’s old school had destroyed his notebooks and pushed him down muddy inclines. Mito found out by accident, one, two, three times. Saw the bruises on his skinny ribs, watched as he pushed dirtied pants into the washer before mom could see.
He’d linked their pinkies back then, after an especially nasty fall, a strangely gentle smile decorating his lips even as dirt trailed down his cheek. Finger against his lips, he said it was a secret. Their secret.
More than once Mito had considered hunting those idiots down, but she was small and her mom refused her endless nagging to take up kung fu. No matter how often she threw herself on the ground in the middle of her mom’s shopping trip, staunchly refusing to say why, she was denied the weapon to defend her brother.
(in the end, she won. only it was kendo. and two years too late)
And even then, it wasn’t right for the little sister to defend her older brother. Harusumi should be strong enough to fight them off himself. At least that’s what Izuki from class 2-3 said.
(and Izuki had three older brothers and the prettiest eyes in their entire grade)
Even if her brother didn’t really act that tough, telling everyone in his elementary school class that he was a princess. He might not be good at baseball – and all of Izuki’s older brothers were – or defending himself but at least Harusumi always knew what kind of notebook to buy her (the one with the purple flower print).
It shouldn’t be weird, that he knew all that. Sometimes Mito kinda thought that it was.
“No. No, it’s not that,“ Mom spoke carefully, as if she didn’t quite know how to find the right words. “Apparently, a classmate of his jumped out of a window today.“
Mito wrinkled her forehead. Harusumi hadn’t told her, even though she borrowed some stuff from him earlier. That was just typical. When she’d asked him after his day, he’d smiled that bland smile of his and said it was alright. Just another day of high school. Nothing special.
No wonder Mito had to hide behind the kitchen door (in the dark) to find out anything.
“What?“
“Yes, Watanabe or Abe or something like that. I don’t know. But he jumped. Or fell, the teacher wasn’t quite sure.“
“And Harusumi is okay?“ Mito peaked around the corner into the kitchen, just in time to see her dad lean forward, deep lines etched into his forehead. The beer in his hands was leaking condensation. He looked older every time he came home to visit. “He didn’t jump as well?“
“I would have led with that, Haru.“ Her mother’s face was hidden from view, but Mito knew she wasn’t imagining the slight edge to her words.
“I know, I know. I’m sorry.“
“It’s a strange thing, is all I’m saying.“ A beat of silence, and then: “The teacher called and at first I thought it was just a courtesy call, because the kid had seen something traumatizing and he wanted to make sure we knew. But it wasn’t that. He asked after Harusumi. Whether he’d been odd the last few weeks. If we’d--- if we’d noticed something.“
“What is he implying?“ Dad’s grip on the beer tightened.
“I don’t know.” Whenever her mother worried, the vowels lengthened as they flowed from her lips. Their town was pretty rural, but when her mom spoke, you could actually hear the long line of farmers who’d come before her. “But I don’t like it.”
“You think it’s because of the… well, the, you know?” Rough fingers peeled back the label of the local beer brand her father favored. When Mito’d been small – smaller – her dad’s hand had been the most comforting thing in the entire world. Now, she worried for the soaked paper with its grinning bear mascot.
“The what?” The challenge to her mother’s words was unmistakable.
She wouldn’t be getting any snacks soon. Mito sat down, her knees folded underneath. The floorboards stayed blessedly silent as she shifted her weight. Like this, she could still see into the kitchen, but it would be a lot harder for her parents to spot her.
With a sigh, her father spared the bear a beheading. “The… the princess thing. The flowers. The whole perfume business.”
A month ago Harusumi had come home smelling like an entire perfume store – when mom asked him why, he'd blushed, stammered something about his girlfriend. He left before they could ask any more questions. Mito had found a pink box stuffed deep into his backpack a few days later while looking for his calculator. It wasn’t her fault dad had been home when she opened it up to see just what treasure she’d unearthed. It wasn’t her fault Harusumi’s face lost all color when the sweet smelling perfume dropped down onto the tantami.
Still, the guilt stayed with her.
Maybe she wasn’t supposed to fight his bullies for him, but as his sister it was still her duty to keep his secrets.
And she’d failed.
By now Suki-chan was surely wondering where Mito had gone.
But she couldn’t leave. Not now.
“I…”, her mother’s bravado crumbled under the truth of what dad had just said. “I don’t think the teacher would call about that. Not when a student jumped out of a window. And there’s—”
“Yeah?”
“There’s nothing wrong with a boy being a bit different than his peers.” Their kitchen table looked so small with both her parents seated at it. Mom leaned forward, the pink of her blouse catching in the bright overhead light, “You don’t think, they assume he did something? Because he’s a bit… odd. He’s a good boy. A nice kid. And ever since he started high school, he’s calmed down. Made some friends. Surely—”
“Hey,” the hand on her shoulder startled her badly enough, Mito almost screamed. Only iron control brought on by kendo practice kept her from giving away her hiding spot. The glare she sent her brother carried molten ire.
Sheepishly Harusumi raised his hands, his socked foot resting next to her leg as he kneeled down to join her, “What are they talking about?” His eyes darted to the kitchen before returning to her.
He’d always done this, even as a child. When others avoided eye contact, Harusumi basically searched for it.
“Uh…” Mito struggled to find words in time.
“Ah,” his shoulders slumped slightly, “I see.”
Pressing her arm against his – when did he get this tall? Or was it her that had gotten taller? – Mito turned back towards the conversation next door, “Someone fell out of a window today? And you didn’t tell me?”
“It had nothing to do with me.”
Even without being able to see his face, she knew Harusumi cringed at the feeble nature of his excuse. Leaning forward, he returned the pressure against her arm. Sometimes – just sometimes – it was kinda nice to have a big brother.
“That teacher should mind his own business,” her father’s words cut through the bubble she and Harusumi shared. “What did you tell him?”
“Nothing!” Mom brushed some hair away from her face, the slight tremble to her hand visible even from their spot on the floor. Mito knew she wasn’t imagining the slight flinch racing down Harusumi’s body at the sight. Her entire left side shook with it. “I mean, I told ‘im nothing was going on with our boy. Nothing changed. If anything, I said…”
“Yeah?”
“Harusumi’s been doing great. Told him he’s got friends now. Said that if any teacher had cared as much back when Harusumi came home beaten every other week, we’d never have had to get involved.”
“Get involved… that’s what we’re calling it now? You yelled at the mother of that other boy when she complained about Harusumi hitting back. And then you kicked her car on the way out.”
“Don’t take that tone with me.” Mom’s glare must have been something, considering dad immediately raised his hands in defeat. The beer looked lonely without his fingers leaving furrows in the condensation. “I’m just saying. I told him that no teacher ever did anything for our boy, so why would we be getting involved now.”
Finally giving the bear mascot the death blow, her dad shrugged, “That teacher has no business with us. Still, he called about some kid jumping, that’s not the same as our boy getting bullied just because he’s a bit of a —.”
Harusumi recoiled – Mito tried to forget ever having heard the word.
“Haru!” It was rare for their mother to get loud, right now Mito was grateful for the echoes of her outrage. If only, so Harusumi actually heard it. Tearing her eyes away from the drama unfolding in the kitchen, she stole a glance of her brother. The tips of his ears were a deep red, his eyes suspiciously bright. “Don’t you ever use that word again while talking about your son!”
Mito couldn’t remember ever having seen Harusumi cry.
Surely, he must have.
At some point.
Back when Mito was too small to take note – back when people didn’t call him words desperate to describe his otherness. Back when crying would have been okay.
(instinctively she knew that it wouldn’t be okay now)
(big brothers weren’t supposed to be weak after all)
Mito had to blink a few times, just to keep from crying in sympathy. Harusumi wouldn’t thank her for that.
“I’m sorry.” Dad sighed, the weight of the world on his shoulders. “I just want what is best for him, love. You know that.”
“Hm.”
“He’s odd. You said so yourself.”
“This has—”
“I’m just—” The beer sat empty and forgotten on the kitchen table, the label shredded beyond recognition. Instead, her father reached for her mother’s hands. Just his palms almost swallowed her whole. “I love our boy. I do. And I don’t think he’s had anything to do with those kids jumping. Of course not. It’s just— it’s a cruel world out there. If a teacher is sticking his nose into things that don’t concern him… I don’t want Harusumi to get bullied again.”
“I won’t be,” Harusumi whispered.
Mito was the only one who heard him. His words were enough to shake her out of her shocked silence. The look on his face was pure steel – stubborn determination. That’s how he’d looked when mom tried to force him to switch schools back in middle school.
(Saki-chan had an older sister already in high school, and Mito was pretty sure that Harusumi made a similar face when he confessed to his girlfriend in the middle of the hallway)
(yet another bit of information Mito had gotten from someone else instead of her brother)
“Are you okay?” Mito asked. Her words were heavy enough to drag across the floor, only barely reaching Harusumi.
“Yeah,” his shame was well hidden under the painful clench of his jaw. Mito spotted echoes of it in his white knuckle grip and the rigid hardness of his shoulder. He didn’t want her to see, so she closed her eyes to it. Mito swallowed the slight nausea dragging her gut down.
In the kitchen, her parents’ heated voices had turned into furious whispers. Still, Mito couldn’t forget what had been said, no matter how much she wanted to. Letting go of her good posture, she slumped against Harusumi. He caught her. He wasn’t entirely useless.
She probably wasn’t the only one grateful for the companionable warmth.
“Do you—” the question got stuck in her throat. Her cheeks burned.
“Yeah?” Again, with the eye contact. Harusumi’s eyes were a boring brown color, and yet it was impossible to look away once he captured you in his gaze.
Trying not to be her father’s daughter (for once), Mito aimed for kindness, “Do you want to be a girl?”
Mito was pretty sure her brother didn’t like boys.
He had a girlfriend, for one, and he’d never really been friends with many boys before.
(though, recently, he’d started talking about someone called Zeze and Ootomo and Teshimano)
But that didn’t explain the flowers and the perfume and the… well, the princess thing.
Mito didn’t know what big sisters were like, but maybe she could get used to having one.
Harusumi didn’t look away. If anything, he searched her face for clues – for what? Hatred, maybe. Or deceit. But Mito was perfectly honest. She wanted to know if Harusumi felt… different. And then she’d do what she should have done ever since she first found him hiding his bruises in the bathroom: go to war for her big sib.
He was smiling slightly when he said, “I like being a boy.”
They could both hear him avoid the question.
“Haru—” Mito wasn’t even sure what she wanted to say. Thankfully, she didn’t have to find an end to her sentence.
Her mother’s voice carried the heavy burden of a worried parent, “What if something does happen to him, though? What if next time the teacher calls because it is Harusumi who jumped out of a window? It was bad enough getting that call after that earthquake a few months ago…”
“Hina—” somehow her father had aged another couple of years in the last few minutes. “I don’t know.”
It would be nice if they worried for her like this, a treacherous voice whispered in the back of her mind. Mito pushed it back. She was better than this.
“I’m sorry,” Harusumi was so close to her, his words barely had to travel. This close, she could even smell the strange perfume he’d bought – she wrinkled her nose. Much too sweet for her tastes.
“For what?”
“They love you, you know.” His eyes flickered to the kitchen. He really seemed to be sorry. Whatever for. “I’m not— I mean, I don’t want them to worry. On purpose. I mean—”
“I know.” She dropped her head on his shoulder. “Idiot.”
“I’m not going to jump out of a window either.”
“You don’t have to tell me that.”
Still, it was nice to hear.
Head tilted to the side like this, it was easy to let her gaze wander. Down his worn t-shirt, to the edges of his boring hoodie. She spotted the bruise on his wrist by accident.
“Harusumi…”
“Yeah?”
“Is someone hurting you again?” Somehow Mito knew that he wouldn’t lie to her. Not about this. It was their secret, after all. Had always been their secret. His pain and her burden to carry it alongside him.
(she would hunt them all down and make them fear her wrath)
(she’d gotten quite good at kendo)
(there was a real chance she’d end up being the captain of their team next year)
“No.” Their breathing matched. Mito couldn’t remember when they’d last been this close to each other – their family wasn’t the hugging kind, and Harusumi had been real weird about strangers touching him as a kid. “No…”
(their mom loved to tell a story about toddler Harusumi actually demanding to have his hair washed and his body toweled off – that was before people started gossiping behind closed doors and mom stopped laughing about his quirks)
“Really?”
“I…” Harusumi pulled her closer, “It’s not like that. I’m not being bullied, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“But somebody is hurting you?”
“Turns out high school is a lot weirder than I thought it’d be.” He was smiling. Mito wanted to hit him and protect him and ask him what the hell he was talking about and he was smiling.
“Urgh. You’re so annoying.”
“It’s my duty as your older brother.”
In the kitchen, their mother started crying. Mito tried very hard not to listen. Faintly, the squeak of the fridge door and the hum of electricity told her all about her dad’s attempts at comfort, long before she could hear the clink of glass bottles looking for company. Their kampai was silent and a little bit sad.
Mito wished she could close her ears the way she could her eyes.
“I want to be here. With you.” Mito knew no one else could hear them, and yet her heart skipped a beat when Harusumi spoke. His words were faint enough to be swallowed by the noises of their aging house, but they echoed through Mito as if he’d yelled them from the top of the school building. “I can’t— I don’t— I want to be here. And grow old. And… and marry and maybe have kids and go to university and make dad proud and… and make mom laugh and… I really, really want that, Mito. I want to be your older brother. I do.”
“Are you in danger?” Another frightening thought hit her, “Are you sick?”
“No. Not… not really.” Mito struggled against his hold so she could look at him – really look at him. He worried his lip, the shadows underneath his eyes deeper than they should be. Now that she really thought about it, Harusumi hadn’t really stopped being pale and exhausted ever since he ended up in the hospital after the earthquake.
Holy shit, he was sick. Dying, maybe, if his scary words were anything to go by.
“You have to tell mom and dad.”
“No.”
“Why not?” It took all her strength not to grow loud. She wanted to yell and kick and scream. Between the two of them, Mito’d always been the loud one. Her fingernails dented the skin on her palms, the pain a welcome reprise.
“I have to fix this one by myself.” Harusumi pulled her close once more. It was surprisingly hard to let him. “And I will. I promise. I can fix this.”
She wanted to believe him. Maybe that was the worst part. She really, truly wanted to believe him.
She could feel her heart breaking when she freed one arm only to extend her hand, “Pinky promise?”
“Pinky promise.” His finger was cool when it linked with hers, unspeakable sadness clinging to his words, “It’ll be our secret.”
“Yeah,” Mito allowed a single tear to fall, “Just as back then.”
“I always wanted a little sister.” It sounded like a confession.
“You’re not allowed to die.” Mito swallowed. She should have stayed in her room tonight. She should have done her extra credit math homework, or called Suki-chan, or focused on her katas. “And you’re not allowed to worry mom or dad either.”
“Even if I am… that?” Harusumi’s eyes flickered in the direction of the kitchen – of their father, sharing a silent beer with their mom.
“Especially then. We Minimi siblings gotta stick together. No matter what. How am I supposed to get my snacks if mom and dad are busy holding a war council in there each night?”
Her glib words barely hid her fear. Barely.
Harusumi tried to laugh it off, like an idiot. “Yeah, yeah.”
“They love you, you know,” Mito mirrored his words from earlier. On purpose. Probably. “I love you, okay? So… don’t be stupid about it.”
That seemed to trouble him, consideration drawing his brows into a furrow, “Yeah. I know. I won’t be.”
She couldn’t bring herself to ask him whether he’d been involved with the boys who jumped.
She didn’t want to force him to lie.
Mito swallowed. She couldn’t ask him whether he liked being a boy just as much as being a girl, either. That would have felt too much like prying. After all, he’d pretty much admitted to their dad being at least partially right. And Mito didn’t know what to do with that.
Nothing, not until he told her himself.
Her lips were sealed, after all, with the heavy glue of her promise.
His knee cracked when he got up, the act of untangling their limbs strangely alienating. Suddenly, Mito was alone. Suddenly, Harusumi was standing, and she was sprawled all across the floor, like a puppet with cut strings.
Mito missed the girl she’d been half an hour ago.
“Come,” his hand extended towards her easily. As if he didn’t doubt her loyalty, as if he trusted her implicitly. “I have some stuff hidden away in my room. Don’t tell mom about it, but you can have some.”
Mom had stopped crying. Mito couldn’t hear her anymore, at least. She didn’t want to turn around and look – she didn’t want to know what her dad looked like when he comforted their mother.
This was about more than just a phone call, even at thirteen Mito somehow understood that.
Mito took Harusumi’s hand. It was soft. For a moment that surprised her, then she allowed herself to be pulled upward.
Sometimes when she reached for him, she expected a stranger to reach back.
Sometimes when she looked at him, she saw someone who was not her brother shining through.
Sometimes—
For all intents and purposes, Mito had a brother.
Period.
Full stop.
She decided to stop her train of thought right there.
They grew up together, shared dinner and lunch and late nights. And now they shared this.
She loved him.
She didn’t want him to lie.
She didn’t want him to die, either.
So, she bore the lies, and she took his hand, and she allowed herself to be pulled down the hallway. Far away from the worries of her parents, of burdens far too complex for her young shoulders.
Far away from the girl who noticed too much and listened too intently.
Hopefully, Harusumi had some good snacks in his room.
Suki-chan was waiting.