The afternoon sun warmed Izeze and I as we dried off from a swim. "That was refreshing, Garu-kun!" my female counterpart exclaimed just as I shut my eyes for a nap.

"I agree, Izeze. After spending two months on the front," I murmured, breathing in deeply.

There was a few minutes of silence. Then Izeze spoke suddenly. "I heard that Giroro and his friends joined the army."

I stared at Izeze for a few seconds, a little miffed that Giroro hadn't contacted me himself. "And what's my brother's problem this time?" I asked, annoyance in my voice.

"We should go visit them, Garuru. You haven't seen Giroro in so long… you must miss him," Izeze suggested.

Now I was pissed. The last thing I wanted to hear about was my stupid brother on a good day like this. "You know something, Izeze—I don't want to see Giroro again!" I shouted, sending a couple birds fluttering out of the trees. "Ever since that day, I've no longer seen him as a brother—just a little bug that has yet to die, and is biting me still. Some little red brat who lived in my house, bringing his annoying friends to play 'suicide' and so now, I ignore him. Don't ever mention Giroro to my face again, Izeze!"

The look on Izeze's face was one of pure shock. I instantly felt incredibly guilty for shouting at her. "Izeze… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…"

"That's fine, Garuru. I understand if you don't want to see him. But I think it would be a good thing for you. An opportunity to let go of your hate," Izeze said softly, rubbing my shoulder gently.

"You're right, Izeze," I replied, my voice shaking. "I need to let go of some pent up anger. Let's visit them after dinner tomorrow."

000

I walked slowly up to Giroro's bunker. I was feeling apprehensive, and there was nothing I loathed more than seeing his ugly face again. Izeze hammered on the door. "Giroro! It's Izeze and Garuru!"

Keroro answered the door. "Gero? I can't believe it—grumpy Garuru?!" he exclaimed in a sing-song voice.

I kept my cool. "Hello, everyone," I growled as I turned to gaze at Giroro, polishing his weapon.

"Hey, Garuru," Giroro said uncomfortably, averting his eyes. "I've heard about your fighting on the front. You're famous among the rookies."

"I am?" I asked, clueless.

"Oh, yes. Garuru kills Viper captain single-handedly. Garuru, the rising star of the Keron Forces," Giroro mocked.

"You don't have to be all sarcastic about it," Keroro muttered.

"Do you have any idea how much pressure you exert on me? Everyone expects me to be as perfect as my older brother. I'm supposed to be exactly like perfect Garuru," Giroro growled.

"And do you think it's my job to worry about my precious little brother on the front?" I retorted. "I didn't even care about you until Izeze forced me into visiting you!"

"So you're a selfish prat on the battlefield?" Giroro shot back. "Thinking only of yourself and your little girlfriend."

"Would I worry about someone who never gave two shakes about his brother? For the past few years, I've tried (and failed) to forget you exist," I spat.

Giroro's calm façade blew over in an instant. Reeling back, he landed a punch in my stomach.

I doubled over, trying to suck air back into my lungs. Wanting revenge and thirsty for blood, I socked him in the jaw.

Blood dribbled down his chin as he looked at me with feral eyes. "You'll regret the day," he muttered; then he lunged at me.

I dodged, but not fast enough. Giroro and I fell into the table, splintering it. "You'll regret the day," Giroro repeated.

Zeroro moved out of the shadows, as if to stop the fight. "Keroro-kun, he's repeating himself. Someone's going to get hurt."

Zeroro was right, unfortunately. No more than a second after he had predicted someone would get hurt; Giroro launched himself at me with a snarl. I barely rolled out of the way, causing him to smash into the floor.

"Idiot. You're always the slow one," I sneered down at my little brother, but my victory was short lived. My words only served to enrage him even more, and in a flash, he had flown up and socked me in the eye. I heard a sharp intact of breath from Izeze.

I growled as I dove in to tackle Giroro. We went down in a heap right in the pile of broken wood from the table. My plan hadn't gone the way it was supposed to: I was on bottom now, fragments of wood sticking into my back. It was all I could do to avoid crying out in pain, but a soldier never shows his weakness.

I was fed up with this. Wouldn't Giroro ever get the idea that I would always be the tougher one, the one with more battle-sense? Time to use another trick; something to buy me some time. I pulled my switchblade out, and slashed at the arm Giroro was using to hold me down.

"God!" Giroro yelped, snatching his hand back. I didn't reply except to throw him off of me and across the room. He hit the wall with a satisfying thud.

"Selfish prat?" I asked, crossing over to him, knife in hand. "Maybe you should take that back. But what he did next caught me totally by surprise.

Giroro flew up from where he was and twisted the knife out of my grasp. "F---!" I swore and tried to dodge as the blade covered with my brother's scarlet blood streaked in front of my eyes. How had I let him steal the knife from me? Or had I seriously underestimated my younger sibling?

It wasn't as if I had time to contemplate my errors, though. My brother would hardly allow me that sort of luxury. I picked up a piece of wood from the destroyed table, thinking that maybe I could get the knife from him with it. If it worked for that character in that Pokopenian movie, Romancing the Stone, it just might work for me.

The next time Giroro swiped at me with the knife, I tried to catch the blade in the wood. My idea was wasted, though. The knife just passed straight through the wood-- curse me for keeping my knives so sharp! If this was to be my downfall, I'd never live this down—if I came out alive.

All of a sudden, I was back under Giroro again, my own knife buried in my shoulder. The searing pain was immense. Tears came into my eyes, but I didn't let them get farther than that as Giroro tore the knife back out of my shoulder. Gritting my teeth against the pain, I smacked my brother alongside the head with my piece of wood, dislodging him from his position on top of me. That action rewarded me with another gash across my arm. I pressed my free hand against the wound.

"You… you… you…," I growled, knocking my brother onto his face as I slipped out from under him and kicked him with all the strength I could muster in the ribs.

Giroro stepped back, his eyes glued to the floor. Zeroro and Keroro tried to support him. I watched as he pressed his hand to his face. His hand was a different shade of red than usual. I watched, almost uncaringly as Giroro fell to his knees, trembling. "I'm sorry, Garuru—oh my god, I didn't mean to stab you. Oh, God, I need to run you to the hospital," Giroro blubbered before he retched all over the floor.

"No, Giroro—Pururu-chan, go take care of him," I muttered.

I too had a hand pressed to my shoulder. With disdain, I realized that my hand was the same color as Giroro.

He and I glared at each other, snarling, "I don't think you'll ever forget about me now."