Chapter Nine: Sister Complex
Life stinks. That's what Daichi thinks, anyway. Life stinks, for kids most of all. He mixed it up in class again today. He had taken things way too far, as usual. Before the teacher could interfere, the confrontation had escalated into classroom warfare, complete with kids throwing anything they could lay their hands on at each other.
With his curly light-brown hair and blue eyes, Daichi focuses on his sister as she shuffles through a set of photos and lays them out on her desk, looking at each, occasionally holding one up. More photos occupy the wall above her, hanging on picture frame wires and clips. He looks closer at one and realizes it's a photo of her friends at the beach. The next photo is of them at Sea World with a flock of penguins in the background.
Mizuki's long light-brown hair frames her face and her smile is wide, as though the photo was snapped mid-laugh. She looks happy and so carefree. It's as though in that moment, she turned back to her younger self.
His memory produces her younger image. Finding his hiding spot in the linen closet, her hair a soft cloud of tousled silk locks, she was smiling down at him after a friendly game of hide-and-seek.
"There you are," she said, and he squealed in delight, embracing her.
Somehow, she's his best friend—his only friend. The obvious love and affection she has for her friends, he feels, ought to be entirely concentrated on him alone. She leads an active social life, and he's jealous of the people around her. It irritates him.
He shoves aside the unwanted trip down memory lane and gets closer.
Floral patterns are a favorite of Mizuki's, and the brighter the colors, the better. The vintage style bed with floral bedding and curtains add life to the room. She's definitely the girly type.
Jazz related posters adorn the walls. She also has a record player―a vintage thing, the sort most people had replaced with small digital devices, and a stack of old vinyl records on a small table. In the remote corner is her sax stand, holding the instrument.
There's a plush cat bed near her desk—but no cat. Daichi's blue eyes sparkle mischievously at this. He sits on Mizuki's bed, no doubt waiting for her to make the first move.
"I heard you decided to toss your classroom?" she finally turns around, making eye contact for the first time.
"Kentaro started it," Daichi mumbles.
"Someone else always does."
He shrugs, not caring.
"I thought we talked about throwing things in the classroom," she says. "Mom and dad worry about the kids getting brained with a book—" she approaches him "—or your backpack. Or your shoe—"
"I didn't hurt anyone."
"You get yourself in trouble every day, and you don't get along with any of your classmates—especially this Kentaro."
"He's a pain in the—"
"He's not your problem."
"He said—"
"He called dad a big loser." Mizuki sighs. "I know all about it. You can't completely lose it every time someone insults you. If you can't keep it together with the other kids in class—"
"No one talks bad about my family."
"Having temper tantrums isn't the answer." Mizuki is so concerned about Daichi's behavior, it makes her want to throw things herself. "What's gotten into you lately?" she asks with care. "You weren't such a troublemaker."
Daichi's scowl rearranges itself into something fiercer. Something near tears.
Mizuki's cell-phone rings. She answers and braces for Gou's voice on the other line. "It's time for the tournament! Don't make me come up there, because I will drag you out of the house."
Suppressing a sigh, Mizuki glances over at her little brother. She reaches to run her fingers through his soft curls, and the boy flinches. "I can't today, sorry."
"Please!" Gou begs desperately. "I'm sorry if I'm intruding, but the tournament is really important! We have to cheer them on! The more the better."
Daichi regards Mizuki with an injured expression in his blue eyes. "Just go. It's obviously urgent anyway," he tells her, then turns away, his blue eyes glistering as he walks out. Mizuki keeps her lips together as she watches her little brother's retreating back.
"Okay," she sighs openly now. "I'm on my way."
—
Standing on the block, Haruka looks out across the pool. On his right is his childhood friend and rival, Rin. A chill runs through him as he questions the outcome of this race. After all, he was never interested in breaking records or beating Rin. But here he stands, looking at the pure determination on the competitions' faces.
Doubtful, Haruka looks up at his team. He has the blessing of seeing Mizuki join them, her form heaving and falling in quick pants, her face flushed, and her lips parted.
"Winner gets to ask her out," Rin says. "A sort of reward, after the race."
"Sounds stupid," Haruka says crossly. "I won't involve others in this."
"There's no problem if you win, right?" Rin replies, mocking him, pulling such a grimace that he looks like a pictured devil on a Japanese kite. "Unless you think you'll lose…"
Haruka puts on his goggles, "Fine," and takes the bait.
When the starter beep sounds, the swimmers push off with their strong legs and gracefully dive in for a fast start. Mizuki takes a deep breath, trying to get a zen vibe going when both Rin and Haruka enter the turn, the latter falling a bit behind.
Rin is making it down the second lane and finishing fast, free-styling his way down the pool, and towards the end Mizuki thinks, he's not going to make it.
As she looks around, she sees Makoto, Rei and Nagisa's panic-stricken faces. She yells out Haruka's name. It's followed by Makoto, and soon a tidal wave of cheers erupt from the group. They encourage Haruka to finish.
And he does finish—though it's irrelevant.
"Haru lost…" Makoto manages to say. This new revelation shocks everyone greatly.
Time passes, and the loudspeaker booms, "Mikoshiba-kun in lane four has just set a new tournament record." The captain of the Samezuka swim team is one of the many heroes Mizuki has seen that day. But she witnessed a hero that didn't break a record—didn't even pass the prelims, and he has yet to show his face after the crushing defeat.
"Haruka-senpai hasn't come back yet." The remark comes from Rei, after they wait half an hour for Haruka's reappearance.
"He's probably taking a long shower," suggests Nagisa.
"I'll go check up on him."
"No," Makoto chips in. "We should let him be. Haru probably doesn't want to talk to anyone right now." Discouraged, Rei reluctantly sits back down. The absence of a certain brunette piques his interest.
"Has anyone seen Mizuki-senpai?"
—
Mizuki stumbles around the hallways, calling out softly: "Haru? Haru? Where are you?" No answer comes out, and she continues her search.
"Watanabe-san?" a curious voice reaches her ears. "What brings you here?"
The grey-haired Aiichiro Nitori approaches her, his blue eyes filled with wonder. With a height of 170 cm or about 5 feet 7 inches, she's one of those rare tall Asian girls. It's nice that most guys don't tower over her—she's almost on par with Nitori—but she envies Gou's average height, which is not too tall and not too short, all the same.
"Ah, you're looking for Matsuoka-senpai!" Nitori exclaims, a flash of excitement sparkling in his eyes.
The boy persists in dragging her to meet Rin; she awkwardly resists, only to realize its futile in the long run. After Nitori excuses himself, she approaches Rin with a heavy thread of some awkwardness, his strong, warm gaze on her, like the sun shining brightly in the sky.
She says something very polite regarding his victory in the fourth heat. He looks her oddly in the face. "Of course I'd win," he says, sounding insulted. "You're congratulating me for something that's as natural as breathing. It's ridiculous, really."
"Of course," Mizuki hesitates and forces a smile, "Believe me when I say I never meant to insult you in any way."
He has never looked more off-putting than he does right now; she was blinded by the sun's rays and failed to see his arrogant self. Sure, he was kind of mean before, but never to this extent.
"You should have seen Haru's face," he goes on, "Priceless. It was good of you to show up when you did, by the way. There's nobody in the world I would have wished to watch me beat Haru than you, and nobody else, I'm sure, that he didn't want to disappoint."
He turns to her with a grin so wicked that she shrinks somewhat, not liking the way he belittles his childhood friend.
"You're being rude," she says, with stormy eyes.
"Hell yeah!" replies Rin hotly. "I worked hard to beat him. I'm allowed to gloat over my rival's loss."
"How can you talk like this!" she scolds him, firing quickly. "Yes, you have the right to feel a sense of self-satisfaction over your victory, and you worked hard to get this far ahead, but you shouldn't be so cutting! The both of you have suffered enough as it is, when you stopped swimming altogether as a child and Haruka blindly following your example; if you had bothered to connect the dots after that awful experience, surely you would have realized he deeply cares for you!"
"You weren't there," Rin growls. He can't even look at her, she doesn't understand. "Stop talking shit about the past, because either way, it's none of your business."
"You two make it my business! Is it so hard to treat one another as equals? Time will—"
"This is a waste of time," Rin says grimly and walks off, his thoughts growing darker with every step. A twitch of annoyance crosses Mizuki's face, and she groans when Rin is out of sight, pulling her hair in a sudden fit of frustration. "How stubborn!"
She checks every room, her hazel-brown eyes automatically searching for blue eyes. As soon as she finds Haruka, her body heats up. He's staring at her from his seat, really studying her and spending several seconds on each part of her: disheveled hair, rose-red cheeks and tired eyes, brown floral embroidered cardigan over a blue cotton dress, and oxford shoes with ruffle socks. Mizuki feels as if she's being burned to CD by the time he's done.
"You alright?" she asks timidly.
"I don't know," he replies, still looking at her with his dark, rather dull, blue eyes. If Rin is as bright as the sun, Haruka is the dark side of the moon. Not an ounce of amusement flickers in those dark eyes.
Mizuki sits down beside him. Now that she's here, there has to be something she can say to raise his spirits. But Haruka knows her well enough to suspect she's over-thinking this; he can practically hear the gears rapidly turning in her brain.
In the midst of an awkward silence, she's still scrambling to think of something―anything―she can say that would cheer him up. He simply takes her hand and holds onto it longer than necessary, absorbing the feel of it, the softness and the size of it.
She finally looks right at him and the impact of those hazel eyes meeting his almost knocks him over. "You must be disappointed. This is the first time you lost, and honestly, I don't know how to make you feel any better." Mizuki grimaces. "I can't even provide comfort and support for my little brother. I always end up scolding him lately."
Haruka keeps his gaze trained on her. His hair is still wet from the long shower earlier, but, afraid to break the spell, he doesn't dare move to brush it away.
"I'm sure it's not that bad."
"Oh, it's pretty bad."
Haruka gives her hand a tender squeeze, trying to reassure her. Mizuki chuckles lightly, gradually breaking into a louder laugh. She finds it amusing how he's the one cheering her up when he needs the confidence boost.
Sitting in her company, Haruka loses all sense of time. Minutes—those minutes spend holding her warm hand, squeezing it gently and then loosening his grip—seem to him hours, and hours seem to him minutes. He's surprised when Mizuki checks her cell-phone to find that it's six in the afternoon.
"I'm going home," Haruka says suddenly.
"Are you still upset?"
"It's the opposite, I'm content."
He'd been reflecting on what a good thing it was to have lost against Rin. His defeat led him in her company where he felt at peace. Taking the bus home, Mizuki sends Gou a text Haruka doesn't feel like sticking around. There's no need to wait up for them.
They pass Makoto's house, the shrine stairs leading to Haruka's house just up ahead. The freestyle swimmer follows Mizuki like an eager puppy, wanting to chase after her and nip at her heels. She purposely slackens her pace, walking beside him, and they talk calmly on indifferent subjects. She occasionally checks on him if he tries to take her hand again. She didn't expect for him to be so clingy—mostly because she has nothing to offer him.
They reach the top of the stairs when Haruka puts a hand on Mizuki's shoulder and stops her. He heard a sound coming from the line of bushes on the right, near the lookout point. He stands still listening. There it is again, the soft cry of what sounds like a cat.
"Wait here for a bit," he says. "I just want to check on something."
Walking stealthily across the grass he ducks under a branch then pushes through some bushes until he enters the cool shadows of the alcove created by the trees.
"Haru, where are you going?" Mizuki calls out.
Haruka knows she's expecting an answer but, not wanting to scare the cat, he remains silent. He has a soft spot for animals. It's a habit of his to feed the birds and stray cats showing up near his house.
The tiny cry sounds again, then Haruka spots a white, three or four month old kitten, curled up at the root of a tree. The same one he noticed wandering around recently. "Hey," he says, "You're still by yourself?" Haruka looks around but the mother is nowhere in sight.
He gets closer, slowly, fearing the cat would flee in fright, like she did before. When her big green eyes come to rest on him, she yawns and stretches her neck up as if to invite Haruka to scratch her head. Haruka tickles her little head, and without dropping a beat she begins to rub shamelessly against his hand. She must have strayed from someone's house, she's so tame.
Definitely not a stray, this little one. Then, cradling the kitten to his chest, he heads back out.
"Haru," Mizuki sounds relieved. "Why did you go into the woods?"
"Look what I found," Haruka says. He shifts the little bundle so that Mizuki can see. It takes her a moment to recognize the cat, and when she does, the air in her lungs leave her in a huff. "That's my cat! Oh, Lady Day, I've been looking for you everywhere!"
"Lady Day?"
"That's her name."
"That's a terrible name," Haruka says bluntly, no humor in his tone and a blank expression gracing his face. He turns to the cat. "She's going to torture you with that name, isn't she?"
He scratches her chin, letting her settle in his arms as if she was born there. Traitor. Mizuki crosses her arms over her chest in annoyance. "You haven't heard of Billie Holiday? Lester Young called her Lady Day because he respected her and thought her every inch a lady. I think it fits."
Haruka blinks slowly. Of course, he's totally clueless about Mizuki's interests in music. "Is this a jazz thing? Because it sounds like a jazz thing."
"Yes, it's a jazz thing," she sighs. "So what would you call her, then?"
He thinks for a moment. "Something intimidating, like Ninja."
"She's a girl."
"Lady Ninja, then."
"She's a white, cute, fluffy girl cat," Mizuki feels the need to point out.
Haruka just keeps petting the cat's head, and she seems to be eating it up, the little minx. "She's crazy cute and a fluff ball of white, but she also possesses ninja qualities. She always lands on her feet. There's nothing her super-ninja instincts can't sense." He scratches the side of the cat's face. "She's a little fighter."
Mizuki's lips twitch in amusement. "Ninja, huh?"
Haruka looks over at Mizuki, and amusement is etched into his features. "No? She can be whatever she wants to be. Just don't tell her otherwise." He makes a motion to cover the cat's ears up.
And Mizuki can't help herself―she laughs at that. "I think you're spending too much quality time with Nagisa. His creative ways are rubbing off on you."
"Lady Ninja can spend quality time with me then," he says, stroking the cat's head. "So you're going to take her home?"
"Yeah, I certainly won't lose sight of her again."
He nods and hands over the cat carefully. Happiness washes over Mizuki as the feline purrs in her arms. The moment she sets her foot on the top stone step, the distinct sound of a sharp gasp catches her attention. Daichi has already made it halfway up the stairs.
"Daichi? What are you doing here?" Mizuki wonders if he got into trouble again and ran away from home for that reason. It's not the first time this happened.
A shock of cold horror runs through Daichi like a rippling wave. He blinks hard twice, but the white feline is still in Mizuki's arms. His stomach clenches when he sees Haruka watching quietly while his sister waits for him to say something.
Daichi can't breathe and he's looking up at Haruka and he's scared he'll tell on him, he's even more scared that he'll have to face Mizuki's headshaking and disappointment once again.
He most likely deserves it, but that doesn't make it easier to swallow, and his eyes turn glassy, as if he's fighting tears. Mizuki yells after him, "Wait!" but he turns his back on her and runs off.
"I'm guessing that's your brother," Haruka points out.
"Yeah, that's him." Mizuki eyes him suspiciously. "What's going on? He seemed to know you."
"He showed up here often," Haruka says. "Since the cat is yours, he probably hid her and fed her occasionally."
"Why would he do that?" Mizuki sighs, scratching the cat behind her ear. "I thought she ran away all this time." Mizuki doesn't want to be the one to reprimand Daichi for his behavior, but she's even more unwilling to tell her parents about it and get him in even more trouble. She has to go through with it.
Then, as if reading her mind, Haruka says, "Don't be too hard on him, Mizuki. Go home and spend some quality time with the kid."
She stands there looking baffled, scrunching her brow. It's all Haruka can do to keep from smiling at her too cute expression of confusion.
"You're neglecting him without meaning to," he explains. "He's rebelling when you're not around, desperately looking for new ways to get your attention. Breaking the rules assures a verbal form of communication; it's the only form of contact he has left."
He would have done the same if he were in the boy's shoes. In fact, there's not much difference between them, although Daichi is far too obvious when it comes to gaining his sister's affection.
"Comfort him," he advises her, his voice perfectly steady, "He'll be okay."
—
Hiding in the storage closet is a bad idea, another one of many. But Daichi drove himself into a corner. He has nowhere else to go. This feels like hide-and-seek all over again, the closet where he hid in the past, where Mizuki had found him so long ago.
"Ready or not, here I come!"
As if summoned by his thoughts, Mizuki's voice reaches his ears. He can hear her footsteps coming, and fear sets in. Don't make a sound, he chants like a mantra in his head, closing his eyes.
Daichi can hear her footsteps coming, going into another room, then coming closer, closer...
Like the walls, closing in on him, the sound almost inaudible in the silence. Silence broken only by the sound of footsteps...
Hot tears well up beneath his eyelids, but he won't open them, not for anyone or anything. Won't let the tears out even in private like this.
There's more shuffling feet and he knows Mizuki is in front of this hiding place, opening the closet door.
"Daichi," her gentle voice washes over him.
"Go away," he says.
"Open your eyes," Mizuki says, more firmly this time.
"No. Leave me alone."
"Come out," she says. "It's just you and me."
He opens his eyes, squinting at the sight of his sister smiling down at him. The warmth of a tear creeps down his cheek, tickling his skin.
Men don't cry.
He wipes it away with the back of his hand and then reluctantly comes out of the closet. The cat is padding silently about the room, raising her head and uttering a crooning cry.
"Go ahead and punish me. I don't care," he frowns heavily, giving Mizuki a hasty glance, then keeping his blue eyes fixated on the floor. Without another word, she clasps her brother in an affectionate embrace, only desisting for a moment to give him another hug. She was looking at him, apologizing for her behavior.
Daichi—feeling the tears overflow from his eyes now—gives himself wholly to her embrace, and Mizuki strokes his hair while she murmurs continuous apologies.
She'll have to find a way to thank Haruka for his advice.
