Memorable Ideals
Kaoru remembers hate. Hate so desperate is makes him gag and cry and wish for revenge, sweet revenge to wash away the feelings of fury and helplessness. He wishes for a storm, rich with rage, torrents and lashings of relief to purge away the emotions. To make them pay.
It isn't what his father wants. Kaoru could never be what his father wants in a son. Shinobu, shining as bright as the sun, his talents overwhelming everyone else.
Compared to his brother, he is dull, lifeless and without a speck of talent. It shames him, when he sees his brother understand something, a concept so far away from him and his father embraces Shinobu and they laugh, together.
He stares at the light, far away, more distant than the stars and nothing comes out at him and demands to be painted, sculpted, made.
There is revenge. The hatred curls up inside of him, stirring and restless. Kaoru wants to scream as everything his father loves his torn away from him.
His father never wants this, for him to lose himself in hatred. But it is something that Kaoru does achieve, helpless in fury.
However much Kaoru might envy him, Kaoru loves his brother. They are close in age and bond closely.
Crazy, wild, careless, all true and yet Kaoru knows his brother cares. Shinobu will watch a butterfly drift between blossoms, white wings sometimes being mistaken for white petals.
One night, near winter, when the air is brittle and the grass crumples under the lightest footstep, Kaoru and Shinobu hold hands as their father cries. Kaoru bites his lip, torn between storming out of their room and demanding that his father do something and wanting to hide far far away.
Shinobu holds his hand tightly, then tugs at his shirt, eyes full of tears. Kaoru's will withers as he holds his brother close.
But when his brother takes a shaky breath, something inside of Kaoru strengthens.
It was hard, growing up in his brother's shadow. Sometimes, Kaoru thought, success and skill was simply just at his periphery. But always, always his brother promised his attention, dominated the centre of his and everyone's attentions.
Shinobu was their sun, everyone happily orbited around his genius.
While his brother scores praise, Kaoru sits in his room, wondering how he going to achieve his plans. Blank paper stares accusingly at him. Kaoru has never felt so aware of his short comings. He sobs into his hands, sitting of his bed, Shinobu's bed straight across from him. It's messy and disorganised and reeks on onions but there is more creativity there than Kaoru can summon.
When Shinobu comes home, Kaoru is sitting at his desk, writing diligently. His pen is gripped tightly, almost at an unnatural angle. Shinobu claps him of the back and steals the sheet from under his fingers. Kaoru feels fear soar within him as fights for possession of the paper.
It's hopeless, he knows this, but struggles futilely against fate. Shinobu's striking black eyebrows arch up as he reads.
Afterwards, they sit together on Shinobu's bed. The piece of paper again in Kaoru's hands. For a time it is quiet, a restless quiet. From this, Kaoru discovers that Shinobu won't let him do this on his own.
Kaoru takes a breath, surrendering never so easy, to his brother's demands.
The first girl he has sex with has already slept with his brother. Her eyes watch, as if waiting for the motions that Shinobu pulled on her. In the end, Kaoru feels like he fails. She shifts away after he comes and he's blushing that it was over so quick. He wants to ask if she enjoyed it, if it was better than Shinobu but inside, he already knows the answer and doesn't dare to ask.
She leaves quietly, dressing under the covers of the sheet. Questions hang in the air as Kaoru buries himself in his pillow. The tang of sex hangs in the air. Kaoru is torn between wanting to breath in that scent, keep some remaining part of this experience to himself for just a little bit longer. Part of her, with her quick smiles and small hands. He wants her to stay. To make sense of everything.
Another part of him feels shame. To get rid of the evidence. To open the windows and let in air. To wipe away his weakness.
Mechanically, Kaoru gets up, noticing absently that his sheets are stained. He opens the windows, Kaoru flinches at the cold air.
He knows now that he can't have distractions.
Shinobu likes money. Money is what they need to get what they want. Kaoru finds jobs for Shinobu, his brother takes the job and then returns with the money.
It's a circle of sorts.
On the way to the job, Kaoru sometimes drives Shinobu, his brother tells tales of the woeful Takemoto, the treacherous Mayama. The adjectives change, according to how Shinobu sees them at any given point.
The stories are full of life and colour, warmth and emotion. They wouldn't make sense to many, but Kaoru has knows his brother very well, all his life.
When he returns to his office, he smiles, just for a moment, before returning to his all consuming task.
Money is what will get them there. Kaoru intends to make a lot of money.
When it rains, Kaoru cannot hear it. He has a sound proof office, to shut out distractions. When he stretches back, he catches a glimpse of the downpour out of the corner of his eye.
Time passes, quicksilver when Kaoru attempted to grab on to something. His stomach rumbles and he realises that he has gone without dinner.
He doesn't know how many dinners do disappear, when he is caught in paper work's grasp.
Art is desperate, art doesn't need to make sense, art is something that Shinobu loses himself in. Kaoru can only watch, admire, wonder at what his brother creates.
Clutching at his paper empire, as Shinobu makes madness reality, makes millions for Peter Lucus. This is his dream, his every want and desire.
The wind is harsh, high above the traffic and the people. Cars zoom past, red lights, white lights, little black dots for people, mere shadows at night.
Kaoru loses himself in the work. This is his creation.
"A plan," he whispers cheerfully to himself, "For every man, woman and child to have to pay 150 yen per month!"
It's warmer inside.