.
.
"Did you know, when Father was on his deathbed, he was askin' for you."
Kazuma looked up. His brother swirled his drink, not looking at him. "He forgot that you died," his brother said. He tossed back a drink, then took another one. "I kept having to remind him."
Kazuma lowered his eyes.
The bar they went to was mostly quiet. Just the sound of clinking glasses and a soft chatter, the TV set to a sports channel that no one was paying attention to. "You know, this is gonna sound really fucked up, but I missed you," his brother said. Kazuma glanced up, surprised.
"You did?"
"Yeah." His brother moved his glass around the wooden bar like a pencil. "I felt guilty for a long time, but I swallowed it back. In my mind, it wasn't me that did that to you, it was something else. Something that took over."
"A phantom," Kazuma said, quietly. He looked at his hands, then lifted his eyes to look at his brother's. "My master saw my memories, Nii-san. She told me she didn't see any phantoms."
"Then it was me who killed you, then." His brother made a scoffing sound, then took another drink. "It's not right, what I did to you."
Kazuma fell silent. "I forgive you," he said after a long moment. "But I don't think I can trust you."
"Can you at least let me keep my memories?"
"You have to promise not to breathe a word of this to any other shinki," Kazuma said. "As I told you earlier, it could have consequences for their names."
"Look, man, I won't," he said. He crossed his heart and held up his arm. "Scout's honor."
"How will you explain how we know each other, then?"
"Oh that's easy," his brother said. He grinned.
"I'll just tell them you're pissed at me 'cuz I got your girl."
xXx
.
"So. I heard you're a war god."
Bishamon stared at him. "I am," she said. Kiyotsugu's brother straightened.
"And I gather you're seein' my dumbass little brother?"
"Not that it's any of your business, but yes," Bishamon said. His brother fidgeted. Whatever cocky attitude he was sporting slipped a notch. He cleared his throat awkwardly.
"Hey," he said, just as Bishamon started going up the stairs. "Just be nice to him," he said.
Bishamon furrowed her brow. She turned to look at him. "What?"
"I said, be nice to him. Y'know. He's a good guy. Don't hurt him."
Bishamon scoffed. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but you were the one who killed him."
"Look, I'm just saying, my little brother is sensitive, okay, he doesn't need some haughty bitch making fun of him."
Bishamon glared. She whirled around and stalked quickly toward him.
He held up his hands. "Hold on a minute, I'm just sayin-"
She yanked him by the shirt and slammed him against the wall of the apartment building.
"My Kazuma is precious to me. I would rip the Heavens asunder to protect him. It would be of no consequence to me to rid him of his backstabbing older brother. It is only by his request that I do not."
She dropped his shirt and he clutched his neck and wheezed, pitching forward. Bishamon's eyes narrowed.
"Hurt him, and you shall feel my wrath. Let this be a warning to you, Older Brother of Kiyotsugu."
xXx
.
If you asked him, he couldn't tell you exactly how it happened, just that Kiyotsugu was getting his inheritance and that he went to their old manor to confront him.
Anger. Blinding rage. Kiyotsugu was lecturing him self-righteously, and he couldn't take it. He lunged at his stupid little brother and slammed his hands around his throat, throwing him down onto the ground and bearing all his weight on him.
It takes considerable grip strength to strangle a man. Kiyotsugu struggled and his hands grew tired from clasping around his neck; he would ease up his grip and Kiyotsugu would use that mild lessening of pressure to heave and try to push up from beneath him. As a result he'd just redouble his efforts, squeeze his thumbs into the tender carotids, the muscles in his forearms shaking with the effort. Kiyotsugu wheezed. The whites of his eyes filled with blood, capillaries popping, and his face was red and tear-streaked. He clawed ineffectually at his hands. He was always the weaker one, the non-athletic one, and now his brother could laugh at him and tell him this is why I told you to fucking practice, because Kiyotsugu was not man enough to fight back against him.
He knew Kiyotsugu was dead the moment he relieved himself. A dark, wet stain appeared on his kimono and he dropped Kiyotsugu's head back, disgusted. Above him, wispy gray clouds moved to cover the moon, and the dark night of the courtyard was covered in an even darker shadow.
He dragged Kiyotsugu's body into the salt cellar, figuring no one would go there, it would buy him some time to figure out what to do with him. His heart was hammering in his chest as he threw Kiyotsugu's body down like a sack of grain, throwing a rough canvass cloth over the body, covering him. No one saw him enter the courtyard; he could get a sword and chop up the body, throw the pieces in a sack and toss it into the river. His eyes darted, frantically. Yes, that was a good idea. He just had to get his sword before anybody could see him.
An eerie calm descended on him. He walked down the dirt path, silently plotting his next steps. No one goes to the cellar, he could wait a few days if he needed to. There would be a furor once he went missing at the ceremony, but he knew if he played his cards right, he could blame the debtors he once owed money to.
The cleaning woman found Kiyotsugu's body a few hours later. A servant came on horseback and beckoned him to come quickly, his father was summoning him, for someone had killed his little brother.
xXx
.
The shogunate rounded up the debtors, tying their hands behind their backs and leading them by thick ropes around their necks, making them walk while they were on horseback. He watched with grim satisfaction as several people testified that the debtors often confused Kiyotsugu for him, they likely accosted him and killed him when he claimed innocence.
"My son," his father said, and he looked upon him, stricken with grief. "It was my mistake to cast you out. Your mother and your brother are both dead. We have only each other now."
"Thank you, Father," he said, and he bowed.
xXx
.
Most days, he could put it out of his mind. The day-to-day minutiae of running the salt wholesaler business made it so he was too busy to dwell on the past. He slept well; he married. Some days he nearly convinced himself that if he hadn't killed him, someone from the debtor's gang would have, the outcome wouldn't have been any different.
The nursemaids presented his firstborn son, and he looked upon him and saw he looked just like Kiyotsugu.
What has he done? He took his firstborn, trembling. His wife looked up at him, worried. He forced himself to smile.
"Does it not please you, my lord?" his wife asked, and he looked up at her, stricken. The baby began to wail.
xXx
.
"Father," his son said, and his lower lip trembled. "Forgive me, Father. I tried to use the sword, but I could not best the others."
He stood silently in front of him, then let a heavy hand set on his shoulder.
"You are my son," he said, and he looked straight through him. Could almost see Kiyotsugu standing in the corner, watching him. "Be you a scholar or a fighter, you will always make me proud."
xXx
.
He was the only one to leave offerings at Kiyotsugu's grave.
His hands were thin and papery, beset with a pill-rolling tremor and gaunt from old age. Slowly he lit a stick of incense and muttered a simple prayer.
Forgive me for my failings. I should have looked out for you, Kiyotsugu.
xXx
.
"Kazuma, are you all right?" Bishamon asked, and Kazuma hugged her, his body folding over her shoulder and burying his face into her neck. She frowned and patted his back, stroking his hair.
"I think we should break the lease." Kazuma spoke into her neck. His grip around her tightened. "Erase my brother's memories and find a different apartment."
"We can do that," Bishamon said. He pulled away slightly and she released her hold on him, letting him straighten.
"Veena I'm sorry," Kazuma said. "It was so long ago, and so much has happened between us since then, I thought I could get over it."
"You needn't apologize, Kazuma. I understand."
"Why would he do that to me?" Kazuma said, and she could see the rims of his eyes start to darken. "He was my brother. I loved him. How could he?
"I could accept it if he were under the influence of an ayakashi," he said, hollowly. "But both you and Yato didn't see anything."
"We could be wrong," Bishamon said. "The memories are based on what you were seeing, if you didn't detect a phantom then it's possible that neither could we."
He swallowed thickly. Bishamon leaned him against her, listing him sideways.
"Would it help if you and I went to bed?" she asked. He nodded. She smiled and reached up to fluff his bangs on his forehead.
"Do not worry," she said. She brushed her thumb against the wetness at the corner of his eye, then smiled. "Say the word, Kazuma, and I shall make him sorry for ever hurting you."
"Please don't do anything, Veena. Technically he didn't do anything wrong in this life, he wouldn't deserve it."
"Very well." She rubbed his arm, sadly. "Come to bed?" she asked. Kazuma nodded.
"Okay."
She took his hand and led him to the bedroom.