By then, I knew.
One day, long after it had been since I had seen him and long since I had started worrying, my younger brother came back. My younger brother likes to make himself an outcast, as is popularly known, even though the other children would love to have his company; he is strong, fast, and sure in his movements. I fear that one day he will make a fine samurai, like he is. I fear already that I see the aura of a killer behind his haunted adult eyes; how could he have grown so?
But, he arrived home alone, as usual, with one of the children running out to meet him, excited and anticipating stories of all my brother's travels, the other looking up to him only to be struck upon the head in a fierce blow. Oh, little brother, how could you be…?
He tried his best but my brother simply did not like him. I cannot blame my brother, though, he must obviously sense in him what I know.
But still… my younger brother worries me. He is full of rage, full of hate, full of all that he is not! They are so opposite, so similar, nothing alike and yet the same. Should they find common ground, their affection would grow, but my brother will not allow it and I weep tears of sadness for the lone soul of my gentle brother, who does not yet know what it is to be gentle. One day, he will learn, one day, he will learn of the love that I have for him and no other and he will become calm, sated, able to live his life fully. Please… allow that to happen soon, so that he will know no more tears….
When we spoke, it was trifle things at first, my pleas for him to be good, as I knew that he could be, and his half consent, as it always was. But, for a few brief moments, he seemed so happy and contented with me and I with him. The bond that we share is special beyond words and I am thankful each moment that I am with my gentle brother. But, as quick as a snake, he can turn as treacherous as one, it seems.
He wants an alliance with vile men, as detestable if not more than he is. I don't know why he would want that; I know what it means, is that not enough, dear brother? Why won't he stop those ambitions that threaten to completely devour his childlike spirit and allow him to live on as a child? Why must he grow up when he is not ready? My brother, beloved by me as no other is, ran away from me that very night, where to, I do not know. He left with such anger, it was as though he was running from me, running from my life, and I would never see his joyous smile again.
Life is not so simple…