Secret: Chapter 3 - Part 1

 The content warning is in the footnotes⁰.

◇:*:◆:*:◇

I threw up several times in the restroom. Normally, I can handle this amount of alcohol, but I hadn’t slept properly in the last two or three days because of how busy things had been. Combined with feeling under the weather, the alcohol hit me much harder than usual.

Even so, I couldn’t refuse the drinks my boss kept pushing on me. If I didn’t drink, his mood would turn sour immediately. He’s the type who doesn’t bottle up his feelings, which makes him easy to deal with, but his drinking habits are always a hassle. The painful drinking session finally came to an end, and Sugiura Itsuki asked the restaurant staff to call a taxi for him.

"You don’t look so good," his boss remarked. Itsuki cursed under his breath, thinking, "You’re just noticing now?" But outwardly, he brushed it off smoothly, saying, "I’m fine, it’s just the lighting."

Itsuki held himself together until the taxi with his cheerful boss inside was completely out of sight. Then, as if triggered, he rushed to the bushes behind him, crouched down, and vomited.

After emptying his stomach, he felt significantly better, but the smell of his own vomit almost made him sick again. Even though it was the beginning of August, the night air was still hot and humid. His entire body was sweaty, and as he suppressed another wave of nausea, cold sweat broke out on his forehead.

I can’t stand this smell, Itsuki thought, trying to push himself up from the bushes. But his legs were unsteady, and he swayed in the middle of the sidewalk.

"Ugh... whoa..."

He stumbled into a group of people, eliciting small screams. In the center of the group, Itsuki collapsed, his knees buckling beneath him.

"Is he drunk?" a young woman’s voice asked. Several faces loomed over him, their features distorted like in a fisheye lens.

"He stinks of alcohol. Gross," a man’s voice said, followed by a ripple of mocking laughter. Itsuki felt a creeping unease deep in his chest. He had experienced something like this before. It had been a long time since he’d been around such voices, but here they were again, closing in on him. He felt the urge to cry and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Um, are you okay?" a gentle voice asked.

"Mitsuru, just leave the drunk guy alone," another voice advised.

"But he’s not moving. ...Are you okay? If you stay here, people will step on you. Can you get home by yourself?"

Itsuki recognized that voice from somewhere. He had a good memory. Slowly, he opened his eyes. A young man stood before him, probably about the same age as Itsuki. The man had dark, gentle eyes and a calm expression that stirred a faint memory in Itsuki’s mind.

"Huh?"

The dark-eyed man spoke up in surprise.  

"Wait... is that you, Itsuki?" The man seemed to know his name. But Itsuki couldn’t remember. He felt like he had seen him before...

"Mitsuru, do you know this guy?" A man with a shaved head and ostentatious piercings asked the dark-eyed man. Warm fingers touched Itsuki near his lips.

"I think he’s my younger brother. He has a mole near his mouth," Mitsuru said after a brief pause, causing the people around them to burst into laughter.

"What do you mean, 'think'?" the shaved-headed man asked in an annoyingly high-pitched voice.

"I ran away from home when I was sixteen and haven’t been back since. When I first saw him, I thought he looked a bit like our dad. ...But wow, he’s grown so much. It’s been, what, thirteen years?"

Mitsuru patted Itsuki’s head. It had been so long since anyone had done that—probably not since he was a child. The gentle fingers felt comforting. Itsuki closed his eyes, feeling like he could fall asleep just like this.

"Ran away from home, huh? Mitsuru, you always seemed full of surprises, but you’ve really been holding out on us," the shaved-headed man commented.

"Really?" Mitsuru replied.

The voices around him began to fade as Itsuki felt a strong wave of drowsiness pulling him under.

"I’m going to pass on hanging out today. I can’t leave my brother here," Mitsuru said. Itsuki was lifted to his feet, supported under both arms. He was annoyed at being woken when he just wanted to sleep. He felt many hands pushing him onto someone’s broad back. It was a wide, sturdy back.

"Hey, Mitsuru, your brother’s got a gold badge. Could he be one of those guys?" the shaved-headed man asked, but was quickly reprimanded.

"Are you an idiot? That’s a lawyer’s badge."

The large back shook slightly with a chuckle.

"Impressive. Itsuki’s always been smart," Mitsuru said.

"Hey, isn’t it cool to be a lawyer?" the shaved-headed man’s voice echoed distantly.

"I’m heading home, but don’t overdo it with the drinking. You’ve got school tomorrow," Mitsuru called out to the others.

"We know, we know. Mitsuru, you can be such a mom sometimes," someone teased.

Itsuki’s body swayed gently as if he were floating on clouds. It felt good. He wrapped his arms around Mitsuru’s broad neck and gradually let go of his consciousness.

◇:*:◆:*:◇

The next morning, Itsuki woke up in an unfamiliar room. It was a plain small room with a bed and a desk. There were a lot of cookbooks on the shelves, but it didn’t seem like a woman’s room. The smell was different.

His suit from the night before was hanging on a hanger. He tried to remember what had happened, but his memory was fuzzy from the point where he had been vomiting repeatedly in the restroom while accompanying his boss. He felt a mixture of anxiety about whether he had seen his boss off properly and confusion about whose room he was in now.

There was a chance that he had passed out first and been brought back to his boss’s house. The thought was terrifying. Even if it was his boss, he didn’t want to owe him anything in this way. Getting too familiar with work colleagues was never a good idea. Itsuki had a rule of keeping his relationships with work-related people as shallow as possible.

Itsuki dressed in the suit hanging on the wall and looked at himself in the mirror. A tired-looking lawyer in a slightly wrinkled suit stared back at him. He smoothed down his tousled hair with his hands and stood by the door. If this was his boss’s house, then of course, his wife would be there. He would apologize for his rudeness and leave as soon as possible. An uninvited guest shouldn’t overstay their welcome. He could send a gift later to make amends. What was his boss’s favorite food again?

Itsuki put on a contrite expression and opened the door. The hallway was empty. The front door was just to his right, but he couldn’t leave without saying a word. Slowly, he approached the living room he could see down the hallway.

As he walked, he noticed that the layout was typical of an apartment... and then it hit him. His boss lived in a standalone house in the city, not an apartment. So whose house was this?

If it wasn’t his boss, who had taken care of him? Nervously, Itsuki peeked into the living room, which was bright with sunlight. It seemed like the weather outside was nice, too. The large windows were wide open, letting in a soft breeze that carried a pleasant scent.

"Oh, you’re awake?" a voice said from behind him, startling Itsuki. He quickly turned around to see a slender man wearing glasses standing there. He was dressed lightly in shorts and a short-sleeved hoodie, looking cool and comfortable. He wasn’t very tall, with a clean-cut appearance that gave off the vibe of a serious university student—or perhaps a young working professional. He seemed younger than Itsuki, maybe around the same age at most.

"The washroom is down the hall, through the door on the right. ...You haven’t washed your face yet, have you?" The man spoke to him in a familiar tone.

Itsuki stared at the man, but his face didn’t even spark the faintest memory. Itsuki cleared his throat softly.

"To be honest, I hardly remember anything from yesterday. It seems I caused you some trouble, and I sincerely apologize for that." He bowed deeply.

"You don’t remember anything at all?" The man with glasses tilted his head.

"I lost my memory from sometime while I was at the bar. I don’t know who you are, but thank you for your kindness," Itsuki said, apologizing while feeling a sense of relief. If it had been his boss, there would have been the hassle of owing a favor or the annoyance of being teased later about getting so drunk. But if it was a stranger, he could simply send a thank-you gift and be done with it.

"My name is Sugiura Itsuki, and I’m a lawyer at Takeda Law Firm," Itsuki said, pulling out his business card and handing it to the man with glasses. Claiming to be a lawyer usually changes about eighty percent of people’s attitudes and the way they look at you. The man with glasses took the card with a casual "Oh, okay," but his expression remained puzzled. The lack of reaction to Itsuki’s profession made him wonder if the man held an equal or higher position. Then it occurred to him—perhaps the man had noticed his lawyer’s badge when he had helped him out of his jacket. If he had known in advance, his muted reaction made sense.

"You don’t look much like your brother," the man said, causing Itsuki’s carefully composed expression of gratitude and apology to falter for a moment.

"You were drunk and collapsed in the middle of the street. Mitsuru found you and brought you home. You really don’t remember?" the man asked.

The muscles in Itsuki’s cheeks twitched involuntarily. A brother? He didn’t have a brother. Four years ago, when his brother had been officially removed from the family register, their father had told Itsuki and his sister, "You two are the only siblings now. Just think of Mitsuru as if he never existed." It hadn’t been surprising to Itsuki when his brother, who had run away from home nearly ten years earlier, was finally removed from the family. His brother had been absent from his life for so long that even when he was officially "erased," nothing in Itsuki’s life had changed.

Later, Itsuki had heard from one of his father’s lawyer acquaintances that his brother had caused a disturbance at a police station, though he hadn’t been arrested. Itsuki understood his father’s decision. As long as his brother was alive, he would probably live about as long as Itsuki did. When their parents passed away, if the brotherly bond hadn’t been severed, Itsuki and his sister would be responsible for taking care of their brother for the rest of their lives. If his brother caused any incidents, it would inevitably affect Itsuki’s life. Even if his brother was at fault and Itsuki bore no responsibility, he might still be forced to apologize. Their father had freed them from that burden.

"My brother, you say? I see... I didn’t realize," Itsuki said cautiously. Did this man know the situation between Itsuki and his brother? Whether he did or didn’t, it would make Itsuki seem heartless if he left without even thanking his brother for taking care of him. That’s what people would think.

He needed to express his gratitude but had no desire to get involved further. Itsuki glanced around the room.

"...Is my brother not here?" he asked.

"He’s at school during the day," the man replied.

"School?"

"He’s attending a culinary school."

Itsuki was surprised to hear that his brother, who had been so poor at reading and writing, was now attending a place that could be called a school. Some culinary schools accept students who have only completed middle school. Despite the trouble his brother had caused with the police, it seemed he was at least trying to move forward in life. It was fortunate that his brother wasn’t home, as it spared him from further inquiries.

"Are you a friend of my brother’s?" Itsuki asked. The man with glasses nodded.

"...Yes. We live together here."

This was the first time Itsuki had ever seen one of his brother’s friends. His brother, who had been a poor student even in elementary school, had been an easy target for bullying. It was common to see him alone at school, or if not, surrounded by a few boys in the corner of the schoolyard, being shoved around. His brother had no friends and had never brought anyone home.

Itsuki glanced at his watch, making sure the other man could see the gesture.

"Oh, it’s already this late. I have work today as well. I’m terribly sorry for the trouble I caused yesterday. Please apologize to my brother for me when he gets back," Itsuki said, ready to leave, but the man with glasses stopped him.

"Wait a moment," the man said, stepping out of the room. He returned with a smartphone in hand.

"Do you have Mitsuru’s phone number?" he asked unexpectedly.

Taken off guard, Itsuki replied honestly, "No, I don’t."

"I’ll give it to you. You should thank him directly. He’d be happy to hear from you," the man said, watching Itsuki closely. Reluctantly, Itsuki registered the number.

"If you ever have time, come by and see Mitsuru," the man suggested. Itsuki forced a smile and replied, "Sure, I’ll do that. Thanks." He left the room and got into the elevator. As soon as the doors closed, he deleted his brother’s number from his phone. He had no intention of ever contacting him, nor did he want to.

...Sugiura Itsuki had no need for a brother in his life.

◇:*:◆:*:◇

Itsuki was three years younger than his brother and two years younger than his sister, meaning the three of them were born almost consecutively. It was during his time in kindergarten that Itsuki first realized something was strange about his brother. By then, his brother was in the second grade but still couldn’t write hiragana, whereas Itsuki, a kindergartener, could write all the hiragana characters.

Itsuki loved picture books, but his brother couldn’t even read them. He always wondered why his brother couldn’t do something so simple. That mystery was solved when Itsuki started elementary school.

"Your brother is so dumb."

Only then did Itsuki realize that his brother was less capable than the average person. He never imagined that he would also be bullied because of it. No matter how hard he tried or how fast he could run, he was bullied because of his brother.

Their mother would sit with his brother every day, trying to help him study. Hiragana, katakana, kanji—over and over again. His brother’s room was piled high with notebooks filled with writing practice, but even so, his brother could only manage to write wobbly, alien-like characters. He never learned kanji or katakana, and he couldn’t even read his textbooks. Despite all that studying, he couldn’t write or read, and so Itsuki began to believe that his brother was truly stupid, just as everyone said.

Their father was constantly scolding his brother. Every time he got bad grades on a test, their father would make him sit in his room on his knees. Their father would often yell at him, "Stop fooling around and take this seriously!" and "You don’t put in enough effort. You can’t write because you don’t try hard enough. Itsuki could write ‘あ、い、う、え、お’ (a, i, u, e, o) when he was in kindergarten. How is it that you’re in the fourth grade and still can’t write ‘あ、い、う、え、お’ properly?"

His brother himself rarely got angry. He had a gentle nature, like their mother, and would give Itsuki the bigger slice of cake if he asked for it. When Itsuki was younger, he thought his brother was kind, but as he grew older, that kindness began to feel like a shield for his brother’s lack of intelligence, and it became annoying.

As their father continued to scold his brother, it seemed he eventually realized that no matter what he said, it was futile. Over time, he started to ignore his brother’s existence. He didn’t speak to him, didn’t look at him. Eventually, it seemed that even seeing him became unbearable, and his brother was often excluded from family dinners.

Itsuki understood how his father felt. Because of his brother, he was bullied, and his school life was miserable. He wished for the day his brother would graduate and leave elementary school. Because of his brother, Itsuki decided to take the entrance exam for a private middle and high school that followed an escalator-style progression, so he wouldn’t have to deal with public school. At that time, his brother was in the third year of middle school, attending a public school where he was regularly bullied. At home, nothing had changed—his brother continued to practice writing every day, and since he couldn’t read kanji, their mother would add furigana to his textbooks.

His brother took the high school entrance exam but, as expected, failed, while Itsuki passed his middle school exam. That same year, his brother ran away from home. Just before he left, Itsuki overheard an argument between his father and brother. Late at night, Itsuki had come downstairs to get a drink of water when he heard his father’s angry shouting coming from the living room.

"What do you mean you want to work? Do you really think you could hold down a proper job?"

"I... I’m not smart, but I’m healthy. I want to work. I don’t want to just sit around at home. I could work in a factory or on a farm, somewhere where reading and writing aren’t important..."

"No one’s going to give a decent job to someone who can’t even read properly!"

"But my hands work. My legs work. I can carry heavy things. I’m sure there’s something I can do," his brother insisted.

There was a heavy silence. Was the conversation over? Itsuki wasn’t sure if he should enter the kitchen, which was connected to the living room.

"Haruko, is this really my child?" their father muttered.

"Is this failure really my child? Tell me the truth! I’ll forgive you if you admit it now. You cheated on me, didn’t you? You passed off someone else’s child as mine. There’s no way a child of mine could be such a failure!"

Itsuki heard his mother’s voice, sounding like a scream as she sobbed.

"I... I don’t care if I’m not your child. Please don’t hurt Mom," his brother pleaded.

"Shut up!" their father shouted. "Do you have any idea how much I’m suffering because of you? Do you know how hard it is for me to be asked by my colleagues, ‘Where is your eldest son going to school?’ and not have an answer? I passed the bar exam while I was still in college, graduated at the top of my class, and now I have to tell people that my son can’t even read and write properly. How am I supposed to say that?"

"I’m sorry, I’m so sorry..." their mother’s voice was faint as she apologized.

"You were born to make me suffer. That’s what you are. If only you had died when you were still a child. If that had happened, I wouldn’t have to hate you so much."

"I’m so, so sorry... I’m sorry..." their mother continued to apologize weakly. "Mitsuru, please go back to your room. You can think about working after you study a little more... after you can write properly..."

"Should I not be alive?" his brother murmured.

"Should I not be alive? Every person has the right to live. That’s what they taught us at school. So why would a smart man like you say that, Dad? Why would you say it’s better if I had died? And Mom, why are you apologizing? Do you also think it would be better if I were dead?"

"Of course I don’t think that," their mother replied.

"Then why won’t you scold Dad for saying something wrong?"

"Don’t you dare speak to me like that!" their father shouted.

There was the sound of something being hit, something falling over, and a scream. "Stop it, please, stop..." Their mother’s voice was hoarse. At first, Itsuki had just been listening, but he gradually became terrified, his legs stiffening in fear. Should he go in and try to stop the fight? But he was too scared. There was a loud bang, and suddenly his brother burst out of the living room. He headed straight for the front door and dashed outside.

"You’re the one who spoiled him and turned him into this useless child," his father shouted.

"I’m sorry, I’m sorry..." their mother trembled.

With shaking legs, Itsuki returned upstairs. His older sister, Midori, had apparently heard the commotion as well and asked, "What were they talking about downstairs?" but Itsuki didn’t answer.

He threw himself onto his bed, feeling utterly dejected. He never wanted to see such a fight again. He didn’t want to see his parents like that. ...And so, Itsuki wished his brother would just disappear. He didn’t need a brother like that. If only his brother were gone, there would be no more fights, no more suffering, and their home would be a happier place.

As if fulfilling Itsuki’s wish, his brother didn’t come back after running away. Since just mentioning his brother’s name would make their father angry, no one talked about him. And even after his brother was gone, nothing changed in their home. Time moved on as if they had always been a family of four.

Then, four years ago, his brother was officially removed from the Sugiura family register—the same year Itsuki passed the bar exam.

◇:*:◆:*:◇

Itsuki worked at a large law firm that primarily handled corporate clients, serving as legal counsel to many companies. The firm paid well, and Itsuki enjoyed a good lifestyle as a result, though he was still fairly low on the totem pole and kept busy. 

It was two weeks after that night when he had drunkenly ended up in his brother’s care—now mid-August. With both companies and individuals on summer break, Itsuki's workload was considerably lighter than usual. Typically, he had to rush through lunch, but that day, he had the luxury of going out to eat.

When he returned to the office, he found several sticky notes attached to his computer. These were messages left for him from calls received while he was out. Among them was one that caught his attention: “Message from Sugiura Mitsuru. He requests a callback. 090-○△×□.” Itsuki frowned at the note.

He had given his business card to his brother’s roommate, who had then shared Mitsuru’s phone number with him, but he hadn’t given them any information about himself. How had Mitsuru managed to track down his workplace? Why was he trying to contact him? The most likely scenario that came to mind was that Mitsuru was asking for money—the worst-case scenario. It wouldn’t be surprising, given that he was a student and could be strapped for cash.

If this was all part of a plan, it was even more troubling. Mitsuru had conveniently found his estranged brother, who had become a lawyer and seemed to have money. Then, seeing Itsuki drunk out of his mind, he had pretended to take care of him, probably snooping through his wallet while he slept... Itsuki suddenly remembered that he had given his business card to his brother’s roommate. With that, it would be easy to find out where he worked.

It was possible that Mitsuru didn’t have any ill intentions, but Itsuki couldn’t discern his motives for reaching out. To be honest, he didn’t want to get involved in something so potentially troublesome. He crumpled up the sticky note and tossed it in the trash.

The next day, and the day after that, Mitsuru called the office again. Itsuki had the receptionist tell him, “I’m busy with work, but I’ll call him back when I can,” hoping Mitsuru would eventually take the hint and give up. While he was using work as an excuse, Itsuki also hoped Mitsuru would realize that he didn’t want to see him and back off. At the same time, if Mitsuru was after money, he probably wouldn’t give up so easily.

The day after Mitsuru’s third call, there was finally no contact from him, and Itsuki felt a deep sense of relief, thinking that his brother had given up.

After finishing work a little after 7 p.m., Itsuki left the office. Having spent the entire day in an air-conditioned room, the humid air outside momentarily took his breath away.

Even though he had finished work unusually early, he had no friends or significant other to call up for dinner. He had lost touch with his college friends and hadn’t had a girlfriend since he started working. While he did go out drinking occasionally for work-related socializing, he would always politely decline when women showed interest in him. It wasn’t that he disliked women; it was just that as an adult, relationships inevitably carried the weight of potential marriage. He didn’t want to get involved in a half-hearted relationship. If he were to marry, he wanted to choose someone with good prospects. He hadn’t yet met anyone who made him feel that they would be a good partner for the future.

Everything required thorough consideration, whether it was his career or marriage. If a problem could be anticipated, it was better to avoid it beforehand rather than deal with it later.

As he was about to cross the street in front of the office, someone suddenly called out, “Itsuki.” It had been so long since anyone called him by his first name—at work, he was always called Sugiura—that he turned around in surprise. There stood a tall young man dressed in a short-sleeved shirt and jeans. He had dark eyes and a delighted expression. Itsuki recognized him instantly—it was his brother. A shiver ran down his spine. Not only had Mitsuru called him multiple times, but now he had even shown up at his workplace.

Mitsuru quickly approached him.

“Oh, good, I’m glad I didn’t miss you. You seem busy with work,” Mitsuru said with a smile. Itsuki found that smile unsettling; he couldn’t figure out what Mitsuru was planning.

“I apologize for the trouble I caused the other night. And I’m sorry I couldn’t thank you sooner, despite your attempts to reach me. I’ve been swamped with work lately,” Itsuki said, fixing a businesslike smile on his face as he faced his brother.

“Don’t worry about it,” Mitsuru replied easily.

Itsuki had no memory of being taken care of while drunk, but the way Mitsuru had called out to him, and the fact that he had recognized him, suggested that some trace of that night had been imprinted on his mind, a faint remnant of a blurry memory.

“I don’t remember anything from that night. I was very drunk,” Itsuki admitted.

“Yeah, that’s what Keita told me,” Mitsuru said.

Keita—Itsuki didn’t recognize the name, but he had a guess.

“Is that the man you live with?” Itsuki asked.

“Yeah, he’s my boyfriend,” Mitsuru answered.

Itsuki couldn’t believe what he was hearing. In disbelief, he asked for clarification.

“He’s a man, right?”

“I’m gay,” Mitsuru said casually.

Itsuki was at a loss for words. He inwardly cursed at the situation—his brother wasn’t just unintelligent, but also gay. There was no hope for him now.

“Does the idea of me being gay gross you out?” Mitsuru asked, as if he had sensed Itsuki’s distaste.

Suppressing the contempt he felt, Itsuki answered, “No.” There was no point in angering Mitsuru by telling the truth. People generally don’t harbor ill will toward those who don’t outright reject them.

“Are you heading home now?” Mitsuru asked.

“Yes,” Itsuki nodded.

“Have you had dinner yet?”

“Not yet.”

“Then let’s grab a meal together. I have a lot I want to ask you.”

Itsuki could have easily lied and said, “I have plans with someone,” but he hesitated. He realized that if he refused now, Mitsuru would probably keep trying to contact him, just like he had with the phone calls.

Itsuki had no idea what his brother was thinking. But perhaps it would be better to figure out Mitsuru’s intentions and resolve this quickly. If he didn’t know the reason, he couldn’t formulate a strategy. So, with a smile, Itsuki said, “All right. It’s been a while, and I’ve been meaning to talk to you too.”

◇:*:◆:*:◇

They started discussing where to go for dinner. Itsuki wanted to avoid any places near his office, considering the future. He had told his colleagues that he only had one sister, and he didn’t want to risk anyone finding out about his estranged brother. He wanted to avoid airing any family shame in public.

As he hesitated, Mitsuru asked, “Do you like Italian food?”

“I don’t have any particular preferences.”

“Then can we go to one of my favorite places?”

That worked out well for Itsuki.

“I couldn’t remember the way from your office to the station. Could you show me?” Mitsuru asked.

Itsuki tilted his head.

“Didn’t you take the train to get here?”

“Yeah, but I’m terrible with directions. I got lost trying to find your office from the station and wasted a lot of time. I was so worried you’d leave before I got here,” Mitsuru explained.

The route from the station to the office only required turning one corner—not exactly complicated. But Itsuki’s brother had always been hopeless with directions, even getting lost with a map in hand. He was beyond help.

Accompanying his directionally challenged brother, Itsuki took the train in the opposite direction of his usual route home. The train was still somewhat crowded from the tail end of the rush hour, and because of this, Mitsuru didn’t speak to him during the ride.

They got off at a station about fifteen minutes away and walked for another five minutes to a restaurant tucked away in a residential area. The entrance was narrow, but the inside was surprisingly spacious, with around ten tables. Rather than being sleek and modern, the place had the feel of a rustic Italian countryside.

The restaurant was busy, but there was one open table, and they were seated right away. They were given drink menus first, and before Itsuki could even look at the food menu, Mitsuru asked, “Can you choose for me too?”

“I can’t read the small print on the menu. I’m fine with whatever you’re having.”

It seemed Mitsuru still couldn’t read well. When the food menus arrived, Mitsuru asked Itsuki to read the daily specials to him, so he did. There was a set course menu, but they were told it would take longer, so they opted to order a few à la carte dishes instead.

“You know some pretty nice places, don’t you, Mitsuru?” Itsuki commented.

Though he knew far more refined establishments himself, he complimented his brother out of politeness.

“I’ve tried lots of Italian restaurants, but everything here is delicious,” Mitsuru replied.

“You really like Italian food, don’t you?”

“Yeah. I’m attending a culinary school right now, and I’m hoping to open an Italian restaurant someday.”

“That sounds great,” Itsuki responded, though he felt a pang of unease. Pursuing a career as a chef was fine, but running a restaurant required money. Where would Mitsuru get the funds? Itsuki doubted that his brother, who couldn’t even read a restaurant menu, could earn the kind of money needed to start a business. Was he going to ask Itsuki for financial help? Itsuki took a sip of his pre-dinner champagne.

“If you acquire a skill like that, your future should be secure,” Itsuki continued. “These days, there are too many lawyers, and the market is oversaturated. It’s not like the old days when just having a qualification guaranteed work. You need something unique to maintain a steady flow of clients. People think lawyers make a lot of money, but that’s not the reality. Especially for someone like me who’s employed by a firm—I’m worked to the bone and underpaid.”

As he sighed, Itsuki made a subtle effort to convey that his situation wasn’t as favorable as it seemed.

“I do make enough to get by, but there’s no room for luxury,” he added.

In truth, Itsuki’s firm paid well despite the demanding hours, and he had savings. But he doubted Mitsuru would go so far as to check up on his salary. A lie that couldn’t be easily exposed would become the truth in his brother’s mind.

“That sounds tough, but you’re working hard,” Mitsuru commented. While Mitsuru’s response wasn’t exactly off the mark, it missed the nuance. In such conversations, the expected reply would be something like, “If they make you work so hard, they should at least pay you properly,” or, “They should make your job easier.” It seemed Mitsuru couldn’t pick up on those subtle cues.

“So, how’s Dad?” Mitsuru asked as he began eating the appetizers that had just arrived. Itsuki was surprised that his brother would ask about their father first. Mitsuru had run away after a fight with their father and had accepted the formal disownment without protest, so Itsuki had assumed Mitsuru harbored resentment toward him.

“He’s the same as ever. Just getting older,” Itsuki replied.

“And how about Mom and Midori?”

“They’re both doing well.”

“Midori got married, didn’t she? I heard she had a child. How old is the kid now? Is it a boy or a girl?”

“He’s five years old—a boy. Who told you about Midori?”

“Takanori did. How many years has it been now?”

“You mean our cousin, Takanori?”

“Yeah.”

Enomoto Takanori, their mother’s sister’s son, had quit his job after a year and was now working in the nightlife industry. The last time Itsuki had seen him was probably at their grandmother’s funeral. To Itsuki, Takanori was another relative he preferred to avoid. Their father despised Takanori, often saying, “Working in the nightlife industry is a job for people with no skills, a career path for losers,” and Itsuki agreed with that sentiment. Perhaps losers gravitated toward each other.

As Itsuki talked, he finally took a bite of the appetizers. He was surprised—it was delicious. He immediately took another bite. The simple carpaccio had an exceptional sauce.

The pasta that arrived next was also impressive, cooked al dente with a rich tomato sauce that was perfectly balanced. Mitsuru had been right—the food at this restaurant was excellent. Given that Mitsuru was attending culinary school, it made sense that he had a refined palate.

“Do you think Dad is still angry at me?” Mitsuru asked quietly.

“I wouldn’t know. He never talks about you.”

“I see...” Mitsuru looked down.

“I graduated from a correspondence high school. It was tough, but Keita helped me a lot,” Mitsuru continued.

That explained it, Itsuki thought. He assumed that when Mitsuru mentioned help, it meant that his boyfriend had done most of the work for him. Itsuki doubted that his brother, who couldn’t even read a menu, could manage actual studies. Mitsuru had likely used the less scrutinized method of correspondence education to have someone else do the work for him and earn a high school diploma. While Itsuki could understand the desire for a diploma, he saw little value in a qualification that wasn’t earned through real effort.

“That’s impressive, Mitsuru,” Itsuki said, though he kept his true thoughts to himself.

“I’m not impressive. I only managed it because Keita helped me so much.”

A warm feeling of pity washed over Itsuki. As they continued their conversation, the meal came to an end. Over post-dinner coffee, Itsuki pondered. If Mitsuru wasn’t after money, perhaps he had just wanted to talk. In that case, the conversation could end quickly.

“Why did you come to see me, Mitsuru?” Itsuki asked.

Mitsuru met Itsuki’s gaze with a smile and said, “I hadn’t been in touch since I ran away, and I wanted to hear how everyone was doing.”

“But didn’t you hear about it from Takanori?” Itsuki pressed.

“Only a little. I never asked him directly. But...”

If Mitsuru’s intentions were harmless, he would retreat easily. Itsuki was sure of it. It all depended on how he approached it. He lowered his gaze and deliberately softened his voice.

“I thought you had abandoned us.”

Mitsuru’s face showed surprise.

“When I heard that you agreed to be removed from the family register as soon as Dad asked, I thought you no longer wanted a family.”

“That’s not true. But Dad hated me...”

“Yes, he was harsh on you. But given Dad’s perfectionist nature, I suppose it was inevitable. However, I, Midori, and Mom are different. I was sad that you agreed so easily.”

Mitsuru’s face twisted as if he were about to cry.

“When Dad asked me to leave the family, I thought it would make things easier for him. But I never wanted to abandon our family.”

“You said leaving the family would make things easier for Dad, but wasn’t that just running away? Shouldn’t you have tried to talk things out with Dad instead?”

Mitsuru’s face turned pale as he looked down. While Itsuki was voicing what should have been done, he doubted that Mitsuru and their father could have had a productive conversation. Their father’s perfectionism would likely never change.

“I understand that things were difficult for you, Mitsuru. But that was a critical decision, and it shouldn’t have been made lightly.”

Itsuki lowered his voice and spoke heavily.

“I’m glad to see you, Mitsuru. But I’m also angry that you made such a hasty decision. If you cared about us, you wouldn’t have hurt us like that.”

“I’m sorry,” Mitsuru whispered in a trembling voice. “I was probably reckless. But at the time, it felt like the right thing to do. I know myself better now, and I’m really happy—I have no complaints. But when I happened to see you, I suddenly felt nostalgic for our family. Before, I hated myself, and I thought everyone else must hate me too. But now, I feel different. I feel like I can see everyone again...”

Itsuki wondered what had prompted this change in Mitsuru. Had graduating from high school with Keita’s help finally given him the confidence to face their family again? It was absurd.

“I even think I could talk to Dad this time. I want him to see who I really am—”

“Are you trying to stir things up in our family?” Itsuki cut him off.

“Right now, it’s normal for the family that you’re not around. Everyone has almost forgotten about you—or rather, it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say they’ve already forgotten. If you come back now, you’ll just disrupt everything again. From my perspective, I don’t think you have what it takes to convince Dad of anything. And on top of that, you’re gay. Are you planning to hide that from Dad for the rest of your life? Are you going to keep living a lie? For someone of Dad’s generation, understanding homosexuality is difficult. With his personality, it’s impossible. I believe he’ll never understand you, no matter how hard you try. Trying to come back into the family now would only bring unnecessary trouble.”

Itsuki could see Mitsuru’s expression crumbling more and more.

“Since you left, I’ve become the eldest son of the Sugiura family. Dad is getting older, and it’s my responsibility to take care of the family now. If you’re truly happy and content with your life, then please forget the past. The path was set when you made your decision.”

Mitsuru finally fell silent.

“Please don’t play with our lives by deciding when to leave and when to reconnect. It might sound harsh, but if you truly care about our happiness, then don’t involve yourself with the Sugiura family ever again.”

After that, Mitsuru didn’t say another word. When they parted at the station, Mitsuru might have said, “Goodbye,” but it was drowned out by the noise of the arriving train.

Itsuki was certain that his brother wouldn’t contact him again. For a brief moment on the train, Mitsuru lingered in the back of his mind, but by the time he stepped out of the station, he had forgotten all about him. Outside, it was raining, and without an umbrella, Itsuki seriously debated whether to buy one from a convenience store or take a taxi home.

◇:*:◆:*:◇

Footnotes

0. Content warning: Ableism, homophobia.

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