Hey y'all! Happy holidays! I always get into more of a writing mood during this time of year. My family celebrates Christmas, but my partner and I want to start celebrating Yule when we live together. Regardless, this is my favourite time of year.

Check out my forum on the BroCon page under anime - I've started writing the next chapter and would appreciate suggestions!

Apologies, again, for such a long wait for chapters. I'm still in school lmao. I'm probably gonna die and still be in school.

I've decided to start labelling chapters/time breaks with the days of the week, as the game is based on a calendar system. Plus I thought it might help you guys envision a more concrete timeline.

I think the writing is a bit different in this chapter, and perhaps there is too much emphasis on small details, but I literally sat down, started writing it, and finished it almost all at once. I had a flow going; lemme know if it bothers you and I'll try to adjust!

Disclaimer: I do not own Brother's Conflict or any of its characters.

Chapter Thirteen

Ramen

Thursday

Izumi-san offers to drive me home tonight, after the sun has completely set and the dark settles in comfortably on the horizon. I don't want to trouble the Asahinas by requesting a ride, and I knew without a doubt I would not be able to leave the Imai residence if I admitted my plan was taking the train at this time of night - so I accept his offer. Maho-chan announces she is coming along, saying, "My brother is a dog. I am coming regardless of what you say."

I quirk an eyebrow at her. "Maho-chan, please. That's your brother, and I'm a minor. And I'm also - me."

She scowls. "Regardless - we made a promise in the summer to be there for each other."

I purse my lips as I shrug my bag onto my shoulder and slip my shoes on in the entry hall. "The validity of that promise needs to be revised considering the state of us when it was made." She slips her arms into a light windbreaker, the bright neon colours and baggy sleeves reminiscent of the 80s. She offers to lend me a jacket, but I politely refuse - my body agrees with the dropped temperature of the night. I shoot a text off to Ukyo-san, letting him know I have a (reliable) ride home now, and that he needn't worry about sending someone to get me. His response is immediate, startling me: Thank you very much for the notice. I have to work late tonight in my study, so your dinner is in the fridge. Do not hesitate to ask if you need anything. Best, Ukyo.

I have to stifle a giggle. I gather he's one of those people who feel the need to have their signature at the end of every text. It makes sense, as a lawyer - he must have to be so formal when communicating with clients. His words warm my heart for the nth time today - I never had anyone setting dinner aside for me before. I try to shake myself out of my overwhelming emotional spiral because I suppose I'm going to have to get used to it - not that it's a bad thing.

We pile into the Imai station wagon, Izumi-san sat in the driver's seat, which he has to slide back to make more room for his long legs - their mother must have been the last to drive it. He's wearing glasses, and his hair which falls to his shoulders is tied into a short ponytail at the base of his neck. I've only seen him wear glasses when working on tattoos and driving; I idly wonder if Maho-chan will have to wear them someday. She plops heavily into the front seat and I have to pull up the map on my phone to direct them - it was roughly a twenty-minute drive.

"Oh," Imai-san says with exaggerated gruffness. "I wasn't even aware you had moved, Vivi-chan." Maho-chan throws her head back to look at me; she hasn't said anything to anybody, even her brother. She's so precious.

"My father is remarrying," I explain quickly as he shifts into drive and peels out of the driveway, "and we moved in with my new stepmom. I'm sorry - I should have mentioned earlier that it would be a longer drive."

"I was just teasing," he scoffs, and Maho-chan moves to stab into his neck with her straightened hand and he presses his ear to his shoulder to prevent it. "Not fair - I can't kick your ass while I'm driving."

"You can't anyway," she retorts with a roll of her eyes. We exit their neighbourhood with all the warm streetlights and family mailboxes and turn into an intersection, where the bustle of the city begins to pick up again. Traffic is about average for a Thursday night; I've never been on a calm road aside from my grandparents' in the country. We have to traverse through the busier part with towering glass business buildings and neon lights, before creeping into suburbia with a lowered speed limit. The Imai siblings keep up friendly prattle the entire way - one thing both siblings excelled at was filling silences.

Izumi-san lets out a low whistle between his teeth. "Damn - these digs are nice," he says in reference to the neighbourhood. Most of the lights in the houses are still on, and the sidewalks are well-lit. Everything about it screams family neighbourhood, with the immaculate gardening, spacious yards, and various signs indicating the area as one where children play.

Maho-chan is keeping her doe eyes wide and observant. She turns to me with her eyebrows raised, pointed and meaningful. "You didn't say they had money."

I want to say that doesn't particularly matter to me, but that seems privileged to me - I'm lucky enough to live in such a nice place with food always on the table and even a room of my own despite the various inhabitants, and refusing to acknowledge such feels ungrateful. "It's not something I go around talking about anyway - but Miwa-san's a designer, then there's a doctor, a lawyer… some high-profile jobs." I pause. "I guess I never really thought about it in the first place. One of their cars is a Range. And Yuusuke-kun did say they go on vacation every summer." I look out the window with a renewed perspective, grimacing. I never knew how to interact with people who were very obviously more wealthy; my dad and I were lower middle-class. No wonder they always seemed so poised and put together, with expensive appliances and accessories. I'm an idiot.

I try to shake it off, but keep reminding myself just not to take anything for granted and always show my gratitude; that was the best way I could think of to not take any of this for granted. We finally pull up directly to the Asahinas, and Maho-chan looks like she had just seen all of them standing fully naked on the front lawn. "This is it? Asahina lives here." It was meant to be a question, but comes out more of a statement of disbelief.

"I guess so," is my dumb reply.

She's squinting into the facade of the bright windows, the manicured gardens and beautiful tree in the centre of the yard. "Then why is he like that?"

"Maho-chan," I hiss - I don't think of him in any particular way, but perhaps she means he definitely does not come off across as the snobby rich type. One thing I've observed in all the Asahinas thus far is how down to earth they are. From what I knew of Miwa-san, they must come by it naturally.

"Before you go in," Izumi-san cuts in, reaching his arm back to flick on the light on the roof of the car. "Lemme see."

I know what he's referring to. I roll up the sleeve of my cardigan, and he squints at his work, suddenly serious as he examines the lines while gently holding my wrist and slowly rotating my arm.

"I wanna touch up a couple lines," he says finally, setting my arm on the centre console with a reassuring pat. "Come by tomorrow after school and I'll do it quick, no charge."

"Thank you so much," I say, touched; he probably doesn't have a lot of free time at work, but he's making room for me not just for the sake of his work, but because I'm a friend of his sister. "I'll take you up on that; I don't have to work tomorrow."

"You're on your own," Maho-chan tells me, her eyes staring heavenward. "I have duty tomorrow with Sasaki." A classmate of ours who had worked devastatingly hard - or more accurately, not at all - to be renowned as a slacker would mean it wouldn't be done fast.

"She'll be fine; I don't bite." Isumi-san fires a wink back at me. I raise my eyebrows.

Suddenly Maho-chan had shot out of the car and opens my door for me. "Ew, aniki. C'mon, Hina; you don't want to keep all those gentlemen waiting." Her last phrase took on a suggestive tone, and her grimace transformed into a smirk. I scowl at her.

"Gentlemen?" Izumi-san repeats, suddenly bordering on confusion and concern.

"Byeeee, Hina," Maho-chan sings after I swing my legs out of the car into the cool night air and shut the door gently behind me, yet not as gently as I had done with the Range. If the Imai's station wagon was in a collision with it, it probably would make it out with only a scratch. It's robust and needs a bit more force to make sure the door's shut properly, and there's still cranks on the windows. It was a car made to stand the test of the millennium.

Maho-chan has her head stuck out the window, waving like a lunatic, while I lift my hand meekly in return. After they've turned the corner back onto one of the main streets, I fish in my bag for a small vial of perfume; I always keep testers from magazine samples (Erika-chan's; the only magazines I read are manga and game ones) and kiosks, to keep in my bags should anything unfortunate happen. In this case, I want to make sure I didn't smell of beer. I don't think I do, but I would rather be safe than sorry - no need for my new family to know how much I enjoy drinking just yet. It's not that I do it to be rebellious or to numb some ever-permeating sadness that pulses through me like the blood in my veins - I tend to be anxious in social situations, no matter how well I know the people, and it's nice to help me relax and enjoy the moment. As far as I know, there have yet to be any severe consequences. At least, I don't think I've ever done something stupid like streaking through the Imai's neighbourhood in the dead of night - surely none of their neighbours would look at me kindly after that.

I spritz one dose onto my right wrist, press them both together, then onto the sides of my neck - right as the ladies at cosmetics stores instructed, on places where warmth accumulates to enhance the scent. I had done it whilst walking and had reached the front door by then; I have to buzz since I don't have a set of keys ready yet. "C'mon up," crackles Subaru-san's gruff voice on the intercom as the door unlocks with a swift click. Before I go in and it locks behind me, I spot Juli on my balcony. I lift my hand to wave at him, as though I'm reaching to catch a falling star, and I can feel his eye roll from here.

When I pop in the front door of the fifth floor, Subaru-san is waiting there. I bow my head and say, "Good evening," only to be met with a curt response and him holding out an extended fist. Confused by the gesture but acting on impulse I hold out my hand, and he drops a shiny silver set of keys in it. Each of them has the kanji for my name engraved on them, and I feel my heart swell. Before I can say thank you, he's mounting the stairs at an athlete's speed - presumably to head to his room. Wow.

I put the set in my cardigan pocket, intending to attach them to my wrist lanyard later - which still has the set for my old home on it, as my father still owns the place and we still have stuff to sort through whenever he comes home. I step into my slippers at the front door and brush inside - mostly everyone has already retired for the night. Tsubaki-san must have come home later as well, as he is already set up at the dining room table with a plate of presumably reheated dinner. He spots me in the kitchen as I grab my own serving and wave eagerly.

"What's got you coming in so late?" He asks after he swallows his mouthful. I wonder if he's sensitive to the cold, as he's wearing a navy sweater broadcasting the graphic for a shooting game. I'm a bit warm myself so I shrug off my cardigan, left in the regulation blouse of my uniform.

After I've heated up my meal, the delicious and rich aroma of curry wafting into the air, I take a seat across from him - his face lights up with a welcoming smile. "I went to a friend's house after work," I say whilst stirring my curry. "We just hung out for a couple of hours, then her older brother drove me home."

"Cool," he says with an affirmative nod. "How long have you known each other?"

"Just since the beginning of high school - so just over a year?"

"Mmm," he says since his mouth is full of food. He waits to finish his bite before continuing. "I'm still friends with people from high school, even though it's been, like, years. They tend to stick around."

Since it's way to get to know him better and I'm genuinely curious, I ask, "How long has it been since you and Azusa-san were in high school?"

He puts a hand on his heart, mock-offended. "Rude. You know what they say about asking someone their age." I just shrug, nonplussed. "We're twenty-six - so some eight years?"

"Eight years?" I repeat, examining his face. They don't look a day over twenty - but considering how Miwa-san looks in her fifties, they must have good genes. Not to mention they were all remarkably good-looking. I ponder over my friendship with Maho-chan, if it's something I could see lasting nearly a decade. Of course I can now, but who knows what could change as we transition into adulthood. My chest suddenly aches; I hope we can remain friends. She brushes off her easy kindness as though it's only natural, but it's difficult to come across people who genuinely care about and want to help you without getting anything in return. I hope I'm as good to her as she is to me, and I resolve to try and be more actively there for her. It seems like she's the one always checking in on me; I'll text her when I get up to my room to thank her for today.

Oblivious to my internal monologue, Tsubaki-san bounces his head in enthusiastic nods. "Mmm-hmm. It's easier to keep old friends around than continuously meeting new people, I think. Plus they new Azusa and I before we made it big - so it's not like they're just there because we're well-known."

"I never thought about that," I say, my plate nearly polished off before his. I mull over how that probably doesn't appear very ladylike, but I think it's silly to diminish or disguise my appetite just for the sake of appearances - not that I think there's anything wrong with doing it.

He laughs good-naturedly. "Neither did we - until we started noticing it more and more. But we always have each other no matter what, so." He offers to take my plate to the dishwasher when he's finished, and I thank him wholeheartedly. "Thanks for spending time with me; eating with company is always better, don't you think?" He leans on the island while I gather my things to breach the gap between the two rooms, grinning.

"I agree." I smile fondly. I rarely ever got to eat with anyone before moving in with them. "And thank you - I know this can't be entirely comfortable for you guys, but you're still treating me as normally as you can." I'm blushing suddenly from the outburst of honesty, and I rub the back of my neck self-consciously. "I really appreciate it."

Suddenly he's right beside me. "You are the cutest," he says, quickly squeezing me to my chest. I'm too shocked to really process the action, besides how warm he is and the cologne that wafts from his sweater. My blush deepens; it smells nice, more mature than I was used to going to school with teenagers. While I'm pondering if it would be socially acceptable to return the gesture, I hear a shrill shriek from the top of the loft staircase; the sound of a rodent dying.

Or in this case, not dying, just seething with rage. One might have heard just an animalistic screech, but it was Juli crying "Chiiiii" at the top of his lungs. Tsubaki-san lets go to whirl around, startled, and I take that opportunity to shoulder my bag again and fold my cardigan over my arm. "I have to feed him his dinner," I say quickly with a nervous giggle. Juli has the appetite of a cat - he only eats when he needs to, and doesn't stuff his face needlessly. It's just a little fib; no need to tell my new brother my pet squirrel is cussing him out and calling him a lecher. "Goodnight, Tsubaki-san. I'll see you tomorrow."

He quirks a dark eyebrows, his mouth smug. "No 'onii-chan' for me?"

I choke halfway up the stairs, and Juli levels him with a glower. "Uh -"

"I'm just teasing." He waves at me from the entrance to the kitchen with a full grin. "Goodnight, Vivi-chan. Sweet dreams."

"What did I say," Juli begins growling as the elevator doors close behind us. "What did I say about being alone with them? It was one time and he's already all over you!"

"One," I say, exasperated, "it's going to be unavoidable sooner or later; we all live together. And two, he wasn't all over me. From what I've seen I think he's one of those people who's touchy with everyone. He's just… comfortable." He spoke of having the same friends since high school, and his job would require him to be social with his fellow actors; he has a way of keeping a conversation going and asking questions to make you feel comfortable talking about yourself. He's probably just a sociable person.

I enter my room and decide on a shower before I go over any of my homework. I set my bag gently on my desk chair and spread it out so that it's ready to go when I'm done. I close my window for the night, as I'm not sure how much the wind travels into the other rooms and the hallway; I don't want to affect the temperature too much for the others. Juli is grumbling from my shoulder the whole time, about how I need to be more self-aware and skeptical of people's intentions, but when he notices I'm not really engaging at the moment, he hops onto the bed and curls into a moping ball.

"Juli, you know I love you," I say gently. "And I know you're only looking out for me. I really appreciate it." He doesn't move, and I heave a sigh. "I'll try to be more careful from now on. I'm sorry." I don't know how valid that statement is, as I don't see anything particularly wrong with being alone with any of them, but he seems appeased.

"You'd better," he huffs as I head to my bathroom.

My hair is more curly and unruly than normal from being twisted into a bun all day; it takes me a few minutes to tug the knots out with my brush. I decide to brush my teeth now so that I can head right to bed once I'm finished my work, and lay out my pyjamas on the vanity counter - a very classy pair of gray cotton shorts and my oversized Plastic Love tee-shirt. I overheat whenever I sleep in pants and a long-sleeved shirt, and I wish I had a reasonable excuse to get cute matching sets, but until my current options become a mere suggestion of fabric I don't plan on wasting any money on new ones.

Once I turn the knob to start the shower, wrapped in a towel with my hair brushing the middle of my back, it startles me into a small cry when the water sputters angrily a few times before running smoothly. Frozen into place for a moment, I wait before I'm sure it won't happen again and scare the shit out of me, and then I sling my towel over the bar and step inside. The heat of the water has me shivering for a few moments before I adjust. That was weird; I hope nothing is seriously wrong with it. I should ask if that's something that happens to the others.

I try to examine the lines Izumi-san wants to refresh on my tattoo, and see a couple of spots where they don't attach completely. I don't blame it on him; with blood and ink running, I understand it's hard to completely tell before it heals more, anyway. The lines are still starkly black, compared to the others on my arms; they have faded since I first got them and don't appear as aggressively dark. I always make sure to moisturize them when I get out of the shower so their colour doesn't deteriorate exponentially quickly; another reason to keep them out of reach from the sun. The dragon on my back is hard for me to reach on my own, but it's not like I'm going to ask anyone to do it for me, and Juli has - well, squirrel hands.

The ink is heavy on my arms, and I have a couple of small ones on my ankles: a sprig of delphinium on the left and violets - my birth flower - on the right. Eventually I want to get one on my ribs, but I still felt fairly immature to have something in a sexy spot like that. God. I examine my body in the mirror after wiping steam away with a corner of my towel; that's a word I would never have thought to describe myself with.

Every time I think of a new fellow classmate or a teacher - or now my brothers - seeing my tattoos I can't help but giggle at impending catastrophe. My father knows, since I needed his permission to get that as I'm still a minor, but not necessarily the extent of them. My chest is so pale you can see the blue veins running through it, and stretch marks sit comfortably on the bottom of my stomach and on my sides. I wrap my towel back around myself with a sigh, settling into the fibres of it. There's no point in feeling self-conscious, I know, but observing the way my body has changed since I was in jiujitsu in middle school has my stomach in a small knot. Nonetheless, I love my body; all it does it take care of me and try its best to keep me healthy, and I know thinking badly of it won't help anything.

I have to blow-dry my hair after spritzing some heat protector in it, as it gets unbelievably frizzy if I let it air dry. Juli is already fast asleep by the time I bend over my desk and switch on the tabletop light to get to work. The equations I'm staring at don't mean anything for a few moments as I stare at them, unfocused, then start to come to life as my brain starts to work.

I toil away in black ink for a few hours, to the sounds of footsteps above and around me as my brothers perform their nightly routines. I find it comforting and rather rhythmic instead of distracting, like the work I'm doing now is part of their productive duties for the evening. I'm smiling to myself as I think about fighting the person who added numbers to math when I eventually end up in hell, my heart full for yet another night.

Friday

It's incredibly hot the next day, the hottest day of the season yet. The windows were open in the classrooms to let in a cross-breeze, and I had wished more than ever that I could just roll up my sleeves without having a teacher freak out on me. I don't believe that it's my fault for getting the tattoos, but rather the social expectations that young lady like myself is all but forbidden to get them.

I'm relieved when the final bell chimes, and all but shove my notes into my bag. I say a quick goodbye to Maho-chan and Yuusuke-kun before heading out of the classroom and switching into my loafers. I may have to shower again today when I get home from the amount of heat and sweat accumulating on my hair and body; I feel gross. I glance around before sliding my knew socks down, not enough to expose my ankles, but they are rumpled around my calf. Izumi-san's, and then home, is my mantra - I can't wait to be in the air conditioning.

I pass a brief farewell to Erika-chan as I brush past her in the courtyard, then start clumping down the hill to the shopping district. I keep my pace brisk to stir a wind through my hair and clothes, fully aware I probably looking like a lunatic, but too warm to care. I reach the storefront in record time, since I'm also not dallying by chatting like I usually do with Maho-chan or Erika-chan, and I can see there's only one person leaning on the front desk through the glass windows. Good; I was worried about putting them out if they were busy. The bell chimes merrily as I wrench the glass door open, relishing the swathe of cool air that embraces me from their central aircon, then stop dead. I recognize the figure - a man - talking animatedly with Izumi-san, and it was one of the last people I thought to encounter in a tattoo parlour, for whatever reason.

"Vivi-chan!" Kaname-san says cheerfully, and his voice still lingers in a deep tenor despite his surprise. "What a coincidence."

Izumi-san raises his eyebrows and looks between us: you know this guy? his expression seems to say, but I'm frozen with a plastic smile on my face. How to explain? Surely his first conclusion wouldn't be that I'm a seventeen-year-old covered in tattoos, and would he care if I was? Like, enough to express to his brothers that I could possibly be a degenerate? No - I don't think any of them are the type to do that. Yuusuke-kun knows plenty about me that I would really rather he didn't share yet, and he has kept my confidence as I have tried to keep his -

"What brings you here?" Kaname-san continues, know leaning on the backs of his elbows on the front desk, still confident and comfortable. The warm smile on his tanned face still seems kind and welcoming; though, that was the way I always see him look, save for when he caught me on my way home the other day.

Almost immediately I know I'm not ready for them to know yet; I'm still too worried about their opinion of me, and as kind as the have all been, I don't want to push their boundaries. I scramble to think of an excuse - I seem to be spilling little white lies all over the place recently. That's not a very good start to new relationships.

"Izumi-san," I begin, gesturally vaguely to him, "is the older brother of one of my classmates. She, um, forgot her notes and she already left today." I stride over to the counter whilst digging in my bag and proffer Izumi-san a sheet of paper whilst maintaining polite, smiling eye contact with Kaname-san.

He takes it, and though I can't see his expression, I can hear the smile in his voice. "Vivi—chan, this is a doodle of -"

"What are you doing here?" I interrupt him quickly, and he seems to get the message. He smiles at my brother after a brief pleading look from my direction and slips the doodle of a character from a game I love into his messenger bag - undoubtedly blackmail. Shit.

"I've been following Izumi-kun's work for a while," he answers easily, and his honorific reminds me of the conversation with Tsubaki-san last night: I wonder how old he is? "I was thinking about getting something done by him myself, and came to speak with him about appointments and such."

"I'll give you my number," Izumi-san says, scratching it down on a ripped piece of a receipt. "Special service for friends of Vivi-chan." He flourishes his last statement with another wink. I can't help but observe how unnatural it looks to me; whenever I see someone wink I just register it as a nervous tick.

Kaname-san lifts the small scrap of paper in a salute. "Thanks. I'll be in touch for sure." He finally turns away from Izumi-san, so we can exchange a brief barrage of confused gestures and I can make cutting motions against my neck - stop, stop, no, cut it out - and brandish a smile when he turns to me. "Want to head back together?"

"If you don't mind!" I say breathlessly. He slings a heavy arm around my shoulder as we exit the store, Izumi-san's deconstructing gaze following us on our way out. I realize Kaname-san is dressed in a pressed black jacket and slacks, with a dark violet button-down underneath. We probably come across as a very suspicious pair to the unknowing eye.

"I was actually planning on grabbing a bite while I was in town," Kaname-san says as we stop at a crosswalk. He drops his arm from my shoulder and slips his hands into his pockets. I notice a gold watch and fine chain on each of his wrists, and I have to resist the urge to shake my head, mystified. "Would you like to join me? My treat."

"Oh," I exhale as we begin to cross. Though he's far taller than I am with longer legs, he matches pace with me. "I wouldn't want to impose -"

"None of that," he says with a warm laugh. "You know you won't be. C'mon, I'll take you to my favourite place."

I don't know what I was expecting; the casual suit and expensive accessories made me think of a sit-down restaurant with cloth napkins I would be far too afraid to use, and crystal glasses I could only get with water when he would probably get some expensive dark liquor. Imagine my surprise when we walk only a couple more blocks to stop at an open ramen stand with warm red lights and a lacquered wooden counter with matching stools, the smell of broth and fried meat wafting from behind the short curtain broadcasting the obscure name of the establishment.

Kaname-san gestures for me to take a seat first after he silently pulled the stool away from the counter. I bow gratefully and take it, holding my skirt to the backs of my thighs so my bare ass isn't plopped onto its surface, as it would undoubtedly stick there after a length of time sitting. I fight to hide my struggle of scooting back to the counter as he takes his own seat and asks for two waters to start, and clear glasses dripping with condensation are slid in front of us.

As he places our order to the seemingly ancient cook in a stained apron with dark eyes, I examine the wall above the kitchen equipment. It's filled with pictures of that same man - perhaps the owner - with a different person or group in every picture, in the same location with the same decor. There's a wrinkled certificate proclaiming it to be the best street food in the year when I was about four, and smaller, more faded pictures of a family. There are children being held up to the steel equipment, the chef overseeing them with a loving eye and laughing mouth.

This makes me take in the stall itself more thoroughly: the wood is lighter in lots of places, such as on the posts and the back wall, than the dark facade of the counter. The empty stools are worn in their middles from hundreds of people stopping by, and the register looks like it hasn't been updated in the past decade. The man - Kaname-san just called him "boss" - takes our order on a sheet of paper and clips it on a hanging line above the kitchen. All of the elements scream the same thing as the street the Asahinas live on: family.

"My dad brought me here when I was young," Kaname-san explains after a swig of his water. I turn to him, startled - I had only ever heard Louis-san speak of Miwa-san's late husband. "Back then it was probably already a hundred years old." The chef shoots him a glare and points his tongs at him threateningly, to which Kaname-san laughs at good-naturedly.

"You can feel the history," I agree, brushing a careful hand across the counter. There are clips out of the wood, and the surface is smooth from the polish. "I imagine he came here with his father, too."

"He did," he responds with a wistful smile. "Back in the day, when the boss was learning from his parents."

Suddenly the silver tongs are right in front of me after our steaming bowls and cutlery are set before us, preferring one of the many photographs. The glossy finished is foggy from the steam, and I'm afraid to touch it for some unforeseeable destruction that could come to it in my possession. I take it gently by its edges as Kaname-san dips his ladle in for the first sip of the broth, and lets out a grunt of satisfaction.

It's of the boss, dressed in exactly the same outfit as he is now, with a man in a loose white button-down rolled up to his elbows. His eyes and hair are dark, with crows' feet wrinkling the corners of his eyes. His hair was full and falling gracefully over his face, and his smile is wide and familiar. He reminds me of Azusa-san and Masaomi-san, so I know who it must be.

"Wow," I say, in genuine awe a mixed with grief. So this was the father of the Asahina brothers. They all had his eyes, even if they were in a variety of colours - warm and happy. This is the man who passed away, who my father is assuming the role of. I can't help but think of how Miwa-san felt, losing this man, and in turn, my father when he lost my mother. Their grief is probably something that brought them closer together, the people and their family left behind by the one they were supposed to share their lives with. I imagine them bent over a counter just like this one, speaking in hushed tones, intimate in sharing the experience only they can understand.

I'm surprised to find myself blinking away tears. I take a deep breath and return the picture back to Boss, then lift my cutlery to try the ramen after my prayer and saying thank you to Kaname-san. I blow on my ladle before sipping at the broth, careful of its heat. It's rich and flavourful, with just the right amount of salt. I'm digging in to the noodles and chicken, which I eat sporadically to make it last all throughout the meal. "What was his name? If you don't mind my asking."

"Of course not," Kaname-san responds in between his own bites. "Ask away. His name was Kyo, Kyo Asahina."

The picture is still fresh in my mind; it suits him. "Um, what was he like?"

"He was a lot like this place," is his thoughtful response. He takes a break from his dish to rub his chin between two fingers. "Warm, homey, you know. He was always smiling - the only time he ever got angry was when we got hurt doing something stupid, or when he saw me trying to talk my way out of bad grades." He smiles mischievously at that, and I return it in kind. He and Louis-san spoke of him in the same way, in a wistful, respectful tone.

"He played catch with us in the yard, and taught Kyo-nii how to cook - our mother can't to save her life," he warns me. "He was always getting hurt somehow, though - he'd end up with a cut from a kitchen knife, trip over his own feet… to this day I've never met a bigger klutz."

"Well, we haven't known each other very long," I tease, and he chuckles.

"True enough. He always made sure we looked out for each other. Family always came first, with him." He shrugs, the bottom of his bowl visible, though he's staring into it as though it has unknown depths. "I can only hope we're living up to that."

"From what I've seen," I begin quietly. "You are. Most of you still live in the same house, even, you know? I don't want to assume anything, especially since it might just be for convenience, but the friend I mentioned today can barely stand to share a house with her one brother."

"We have our moments." He's laughing, but I can't help but notice it doesn't write reach his eyes. "Nobody's perfect, you know."

"Of course not -"

"As far as I know," he continues, and I'm not sure if he even noticed I'd said something, "I'm the only one he took here. There's so many of us - he tried to give us all time with him alone, just like mom. Masa-nii patched up his cuts, Kyo-nii cooked with him almost every night… maybe it's selfish of me, but I haven't had the heart to tell any of them about this place."

He levels his eyes with mine, and the warm lights reflect in his eyes, making them glitter. I'm caught off guard by how deep his gaze is, his dark eyes fathomless and serious. "You're the first," he tells me, as if that has some profound, unknown meaning. I know it's because we were relatively close by, but the way he said it makes it seem like there was more to it than that. "Maybe because you're family now, but you don't know him." Boss takes away his empty bowl and he grabs a plum candy from the open far, rolling it back and forth with a long finger with a plain gold band on it. "I don't know."

"You don't have to know," I say simply. "Sometimes there just isn't an answer to the way you feel; it doesn't make it any less valid." My bowl is finished as well, and he holds the plum candy out to me, his eyes curious. He takes another from the jar as I take it gratefully. "I never knew my mom, and obviously I never had any siblings - I can only imagine how you feel, but… it's nice to have your parents to yourself." In my case, I often saw my father's job as his first priority, and time with him was a gift I was lucky to have. Hearing about Kyo Asahina made me wonder, for the first time in my life, about how normal it was. I could hardly believe it, but what I'm feeling now… it almost feels like doubt.

"You're a smart girl," he says, an expression on his face I hadn't seen before. He's smiling in an odd, crooked way. I pop my candy in my mouth, roll it around with my tongue, and try not to think about it too deeply. "And you're right. I guess there's not a need to overcomplicate things, sometimes."

"Sometimes," I agree, finally meeting his gaze. There's a moment of silence that stretches between us, and my heart gives an odd thump in my chest when his smile grows. I wonder if something is going on with my body lately; I have been having lots of palpitations and sensations that almost feel like a murmur, a fluttering in my veins. Perhaps it's all the anxiety and the stress from my new living situation, and I stayed up later last night than I should have. Maybe I should try melatonin…

"Well," Kaname-san says with a soft clap of his hands. "We better head out - I'll tell Kyo-nii I'm driving you home and that we grabbed dinner on the way." He gives me a boyish grin, because now I know the secret he shared with his father, what he kept close to his heart all these years. I wonder how many times he's come here, alone, since he passed away. I imagine him bent over his bowl, only the Boss available for conversation, and I couldn't help but be reminded of myself when I ate dinner alone at my old house. A strange feeling settles over me like a blanket of soft, spongey moss; neither of us were alone anymore.

"Delicious as always," he tells Boss after he pays, and then to me: "But filling, too. We're all going out for dinner tomorrow, so maybe I should have waited. It was a good opportunity for us to chat, though…"

I cock my head to the side as I shrug into my cardigan. The sun was beginning to set, a cool breeze slicing through the narrow streets that chilled the sweat on my body and my scalp. "Do you go out for dinner normally on the weekends?"

"Oh, I guess no one told you." He throws a grin at me over his shoulder, his golden hair falling across his forehead. "It's my birthday tomorrow. We're going out to celebrate."

This chapter turned out to be longer than the rest, I think! Like I said, it all just kinda came out at once.

I'm not familiar with Japanese perfume brands - assuming they are different than the ones I know of - but for arguments sake, Vivi used a sample of Daisy Love.

When she reached up to Juli, it was like this:

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