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Everything He Had Done
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He had done everything for her.
He had become strong for her.
He had protected her.
He had always been there, for her.
Sasagawa Ryohei was, in a sentence, the most wonderful brother that Sasagawa Kyoko could ever wish for. Everything he had ever done had always been always been for her. So just this once, she wanted to do something for him.
Kyoko was alone, walking down the aisles of the fabric store. None of them caught her attention as she paced through the sections - she was looking for something very specific and could not be distracted.
After all, this wasn't just for anyone. This was for her brother.
She finally stopped, eyes curling upward in a fond smile, in front of the leather selection. Kyoko had been there before - mostly just for small repairs, not for a big job like this. There were many colors - green, blue, red, orange - but her eyes settled on a bright yellow. With a huff, she lifted the roll of leather, carrying it to be cut.
Oh, Onii-san would just love this.
She stuck the needle into the yellow leather, binding together the two pieces like a mitten, going over the seam four times to insure strength.
Onii-san would probably break it anyways, with his punches.
On the wrist of the glove, where a company would embroider in their logo, she took red thread and stitched a '33'. For some reason that she just didn't get, Onii-san just adored that number.
She bit the end of the thread, tearing it off and swiftly tying the end. Kyoko began to scrutinize her work, looking over each fold and wrinkle in the leather, each stitch and seam, before sighing in contentment.
This was her greatest work, by far. Not perfect, of course, but her best.
Sasagawa Ryohei woke up on August 26th with the expected yell of "EXTREME!". He dressed in his orange training suit ("TIME TO EXTREMELY RUN!") and jogged down the stairs, through the kitchen and out the back door.
Kyoko peeked out her door, scanning the halls. Good. Onii-san was already on his training route. She had exactly an hour and three minutes until he got back.
She practically flew down the stairs, pulling multiple things out of the cupboard at once. Flour, baking powder, salt, sugar. She threw open the fridge, grabbing the milk, eggs and butter.
She rolled up her sleeves, tying on her apron. Time to get to work.
The last thing Ryohei expected when he returned from his daily run was a thick stack of pancakes, drowning in syrup, covered in strawberries (man, did Ryohei love his EXTREME strawberries) and blueberries, along with a large wrapped box ontop of his seat.
"Kyoko!" he called, pushing open her bedroom door. He really had to learn how to knock. "What's with all the stuff?"
Kyoko had been going through her school bag and offered her brother a smile. "Happy birthday, onii-san."
...what?
He hadn't even remembered it was his birthday. He had to remember to write this sort of thing down. "You didn't have to do this for me, Kyoko."
"You would have done it for me." was her firm answer. "Now, did you open the box yet?"
Onii-san's jaw was slack as he gingerly lifted the yellow boxing gloves from their box. He rolled them over in his hands, looking over each inch, each imperfection. "D-Did you do this?"
For a moment, she dreaded that he did not like it.
"It wasn't that hard-" she was cut off as he hugged her tightly, gloves discarded on the table.
"Thank you, Kyoko. Thank you."
Happy birthday, Ryohei.
(BTW, I have no idea why this is so short. It's just hard to write for Ryohei.)