我
原
谅
你
He sighed.
Another meeting had passed – another week sitting in front of his brother. The brother that used to cling onto him every moment of the day, the brother that reserved a special smile just for him, the brother that… that put a knife in his back and never returned. And yet – he sighed. Stripping off his clothing, he stepped into the shower, the sting of the cold water distracting his thoughts, if only for a moment.
Yao taught Kiku how to swim. After watching his brother nearly drown in a shallow pond. It was a painful moment, watching the boy panic and struggle. Yao swore he would never let his brother out of his sight like that again.
He turned his shower off, albeit a bit forcefully, yanking off the handle by accident. He stared at the broken handle, the sharp edges cutting slightly into his skin.
He had a flat bamboo ruler. Kiku ran every time it was brought out. But eventually, Yao had to use it every day. Kiku was obedient – he was the most obedient child Yao had ever seen! But – Kiku was left handed. Why… why did his precious brother have to be left handed? Tears silently streaked down the boy's face whenever he had to practice calligraphy. And Yao brought out the ruler. And every day, Kiku's left hand would be red with bruises, and Yao's heart would be bleeding with sorrow.
He sighed. Perhaps – it wasn't a surprise that Kiku developed an alternate alphabet. Perhaps it wasn't a surprise that Kiku left. He disposed of the broken handle and made a note to himself to fix it later, pinning it on his office table. Pulling out a bit of gauze, he wrapped his hand.
Yao remembered the first time Kiku got an injury. He had slipped and fell and scraped his knee. The boy was terrified and confused. Yao brought him to his room, cradled him and sang to him. Yao sang to him with destroyed vocal cords as he gently washed the wound with a mild alcohol and wrapped up the knee with a small bandage.
Yao groaned as he rolled into bed, his back aching from the fourteen hour flight back from New York. Huffing, he tried thinking about his economy and America's huge debts to take his mind off of Kiku.
"Kiku? Are you back for the time being? It's been so long!"
"Kiku… what… what are you doing…"
"Kiku, wait. Please. Please explain."
"Kiku… why?"
He sipped his tea as he went through the letters he got that morning. The usual – a few correspondences from officials and some from his peasants in the countryside. But – a negotiation with Japan? He read the letter more closely. The official had pushed the task completely on him. He fumed. How was Yao supposed to coerce the Japanese government into a formal apology? He slipped into his office and pulled out a sheet of paper. He wrote his response quickly.
I will see what I can do. I will visit Japan, but it is very unlikely that there will be any results.
Folding up the piece of paper, he slipped it into an envelope and addressed it. He pulled out a drawer, searching for a stamp when he discovered old note paper. Paper that his siblings used to use to pass notes to each other when doing homework. He had confiscated these, but they had found more within a week.
Picking up a sheet of the thin rice paper, he waved it, testing its durability after all these years. It was still good enough to be written on with ink.
"I wonder…"
Pulling out a brush and some ink, he wrote a short message. Maybe, just maybe, it would reach Kiku this time.
我
爱
你