Secret: Chapter 3 - Part 2

The content warning is in the footnotes⁰.

◇:*:◆:*:◇

It was mid-September, about a month after Itsuki had dinner with his brother, when he had approached him. The rain that had started falling in the early afternoon continued well into the night. A typhoon was approaching from the west, expected to peak around noon the next day. By the time Itsuki left work, a little after 8 p.m., it was raining, but the wind hadn't picked up much yet. As he exited the building and approached the crosswalk, someone suddenly grabbed his arm. Startled, he turned around.

“Sorry, I tried calling out, but it seems you didn’t hear me.”

At first, Itsuki didn’t recognize the person, but the glasses jogged his memory. The man’s hairstyle was different, giving him a much different appearance, but it was his brother’s roommate. The thought that this man was also gay made Itsuki uncomfortable with the grip on his arm. He lightly pulled his arm away, and the man let go. The rain was loud as it pounded on their umbrellas, and the two stood facing each other.

“I’d like to talk. Do you have a moment?”

It was surely about his brother. Itsuki looked the man in the eye and smiled politely.

“Actually, I have to be up early tomorrow. I need to leave the city first thing in the morning. I’m sorry.”

Of course, that was a lie. He didn’t want to get involved with his brother or anything related to him.

“It won’t take long. We can even talk here.”

Itsuki glanced at his watch. Even if he managed to brush this man off today, he might come back later. Since he had already set up the excuse of having an early morning, the conversation could likely be wrapped up quickly without much resistance.

“All right, but let’s keep it brief. Ah, there’s some shelter over there; shall we move?”

They walked over to a storefront with the shutters down. The overhang wasn’t very wide, so the wind-blown rain splashed around their feet.

“Could you take this?” the man asked, extending a bag he had been holding. Inside were several boxes wrapped with ribbons.

“These are gifts from Mitsuru for your parents, you, your sister, and her child. He wants you to say they’re from you and give them to everyone.”

Itsuki stared at the paper bag, puzzled. Why was his brother sending gifts to everyone now? He shrugged and gave a faint, bitter smile.

“I understand the gift for my sister’s child, but why gifts for everyone?”

“Your mother’s birthday is coming up, right? Mitsuru said that once he bought a gift for her, he felt it would be unfair not to get something for everyone. He could’ve mailed them himself, but he thought no one would accept them if they knew they were from him. ...There should be a note inside the bag explaining which gift is for whom.”

The bag was nothing but a nuisance, but Itsuki had no choice but to accept it.

“Did my brother ask you to bring this to me?” Itsuki asked.

“He was so excited when he bought the gifts, but then he said he couldn’t see any of you again. So, I had to bring them. He didn’t explain why he couldn’t see you.”

Itsuki’s command not to come back had been obeyed. The power of words was remarkable.

“I’ll take care of this, but could you please tell him to stop making such gestures in the future?”

The man didn’t respond. Itsuki slowly opened his umbrella.

“What does your family think of Mitsuru?” the man asked from behind him. Itsuki paused with the umbrella half-opened, turning to face him.

“What do you mean?”

“Removing a child from the family register isn’t normal.”

“It was Mitsuru who agreed to have his name removed. It was discussed between my father and him, and I don’t know the details.”

“If it was just a conflict between father and son, Mitsuru could’ve avoided his father. His mother and siblings weren’t part of the problem, were they?”

The man’s words, though casual, hit on a truth. It was only their father who refused to forgive Mitsuru; the rest of the family had nothing to do with it. But Itsuki had no desire to be involved with his brother.

“My brother has been in trouble with the police before. Fortunately, nothing serious came of it, but if something like that happens again, it would bring trouble to the entire family, especially for my father and me, who work in the legal field.”

“So, you cut Mitsuru off because you didn’t want any trouble if something happened?” the man said bluntly, his directness grating on Itsuki’s nerves.

“When something goes wrong, isn’t that when family is supposed to help?”

His straightforwardness was irritating, poking holes in the carefully crafted justifications Itsuki had constructed.

“What exactly are you trying to say? From my perspective, I’d prefer if you didn’t meddle in our family affairs,” Itsuki said, irritation creeping into his voice.

The man fell silent. The rain grew heavier, and Itsuki’s shoes were getting soaked as he stood on the verge of stepping out into the storm.

“Mitsuru may not need you, but he needs his family,” the man said quietly.

Itsuki laughed.

“When I spoke to him recently, he told me he’s very happy and has no complaints. If he has you, isn’t that enough? Please, take care of him and keep him happy.”

With that, Itsuki bowed slightly and stepped out into the rain. He crossed the street and soon saw a river. For a moment, he considered throwing the paper bag into the water, but he refrained when he saw someone walking toward him. In the end, he took the bag home and put it in his closet. He intended to throw it out with the non-burnable garbage, but that collection day wasn’t for another two weeks.

◇:*:◆:*:◇

I spent New Year's at my parents' house. On the third day, my sister came home for a night. She mentioned that her son, Yasushi, had caught a cold, so she left him at home in her husband's care. My father was disappointed not to see his grandson, but he muttered, "If he has a cold, there's nothing we can do."

Around 3 p.m., possibly bored with the constant variety shows on TV, my father announced, "I’m going to buy a book," and drove off. I thought about browsing the internet, but since my mother had made tea, I stayed in the living room.

"Actually, there’s something I want to talk to you about, Itsuki," my sister suddenly said. She was sitting beside our mother, both of them looking serious.

"Why so formal all of a sudden? What’s going on?"

"Please don’t tell Dad about this," she insisted.

I frowned. I had been wondering why she hadn’t brought Yasushi and her husband. Was she talking about a divorce or something? I inwardly groaned. My sister got married when she was twenty-three because she got pregnant. Her husband was a serious man, but our father didn’t like the company he worked for. My sister insisted on the marriage, and since she was their only daughter, our father eventually gave in. He still doesn’t like her husband, though—not as much as he dislikes my brother, but it’s close. If, after all that, she’s now talking about divorce, I can already see our father’s anger. Or maybe he’d actually be happy about it.

"I told Mom about this a little while ago, but I wanted you to know too... It’s about Yasushi. He can’t read," she said.

The first thing that came to my mind was my brother’s face.

"He can’t read? That kid who talks like he was born to do it?"

My sister’s son, Yasushi, is quite talkative. He’s quick-witted and sometimes even manages to outsmart adults. I’ve always thought he was a bright kid, and it seemed our father noticed too, as he doted on Yasushi.

"He can’t read or write. My husband thinks it’s just a phase, that once Yasushi starts school, he’ll learn to read. But we have Mitsuru in our family, so I was scared and took him to several hospitals. They said it’s too early to make a definitive diagnosis, but there’s a strong possibility that Yasushi has dyslexia."

"What’s that?"

"It’s a condition where a person has difficulty reading and writing, unrelated to their intelligence. They say the neural pathways in the brain that analyze letters don’t function properly. I started crying while listening because everything they said about dyslexia applied to Mitsuru. Just thinking that Yasushi might end up like my brother made me so sad. But the person I spoke with is an authority on the subject, and they said that with early training, Yasushi could learn to read and write well enough to manage daily life. They explained that a young child’s brain can develop alternative pathways with training, even if the original ones don’t work well."

My sister paused, waiting for my reaction.

"But they haven’t definitively diagnosed Yasushi yet, right?"

"Dyslexia is often hereditary. When I mentioned Mitsuru, they said it’s likely he has it too. And when I talked to Mom, she said that our maternal grandmother couldn’t read either. We thought it was just because she hadn’t been properly educated, given the times."

I remembered how our grandmother, who was particularly fond of my brother, would sit with him, often helping him with reading.

"Let’s keep this from Dad," my mother said, clutching her hands tightly in her lap. "He’s the kind of person who believes his way is the only way, and he can’t accept flaws in others. If he finds out that Yasushi is like Mitsuru, he might treat him the same way. I think it’s best if Yasushi doesn’t come here until he’s able to read and write normally. Dad is sharp; he might notice something’s wrong."

As she spoke, my mother started to cry. I didn’t understand why she was crying.

"Mom, please don’t cry," my sister said, her own eyes welling up with tears.

"It’s just that I feel so sorry for Yasushi... and for Mitsuru. I knew. I knew that my mother couldn’t read. When I realized that no matter how much Mitsuru was taught, he couldn’t read or write, I had this sinking feeling that it might be because of my side of the family. But I couldn’t tell your father. I was afraid he’d divorce me if I did. And because I couldn’t speak up, I let Mitsuru suffer so much..."

"There was nothing you could have done, Mom. We didn’t understand what was happening at the time. Even the experts said that research on dyslexia in Japan has only advanced recently. But Mitsuru eventually figured things out, right? He even graduated from high school."

I was surprised that my sister knew.

"You knew about Mitsuru?"

"Of course. I was always concerned, so I asked Mom about him from time to time. He’s attending culinary school now, isn’t he?" she said, turning to our mother.

"How do you know about this, Mom?"

"Takanori told me. He took care of Mitsuru for about two years after he ran away. Even after Mitsuru became independent, Takanori would sometimes tell me how he was doing," she replied.

I had thought my connection with my brother was completely severed, yet it had persisted in ways I hadn’t known. I hesitantly asked the question that came to mind.

"Does Dad know about this too?"

"He knows that Mitsuru was under Takanori’s care for a long time and that he’s now living on his own. I told him."

I was the only one who knew nothing about my brother.

"Do you ever meet with him?"

My voice came out oddly strained. Tears quickly welled up in my mother’s eyes.

"I can’t... I can’t see him. I did such terrible things to him. I was too afraid of your father to help him when he was suffering so much," she sobbed.

My sister hugged our mother and stroked her back as she broke down in tears.

"Mitsuru refuses to see Mom, no matter how many times she tries. But I’m sure that one day, he’ll understand how she feels and come to see her. He was always such a kind person."

I remembered the look on my brother’s face when I had told him, "Please never involve yourself with the Sugiura family again." My mother hiccuped as she wiped away her tears.

"I don’t want Yasushi to go through what Mitsuru did. I’ll do whatever it takes—training, treatment, anything—to help him. I want to protect him from your father. So please, Itsuki, help me."

"Yeah," I replied, though my heart pounded unpleasantly. A cold sweat ran down my back.

"I thought everyone had forgotten about Mitsuru," I said. "When it was decided to remove him from the family register, nobody said anything."

My sister frowned.

"I’m really exasperated by the way Dad handled that. But that’s who he is—self-centered, narrow-minded, only seeing things from his perspective. He doesn’t realize the important things he’s lost because of it. In a way, he’s a pitiable person. But removing Mitsuru from the register doesn’t erase our family ties. Mitsuru will always be our brother. Don’t you feel the same, Itsuki?"

"Yeah, I do," I said, but I couldn’t meet the eyes of either my sister or my mother.

◇:*:◆:*:◇

After the New Year holiday, Itsuki returned to his apartment from his parents' house. Snow was falling outside, and the apartment, empty for a week, felt just as cold and had a stale smell in the air.

He turned on the air conditioning for heat and put a kettle on the stove. He wanted something warm to drink. Even though he had heard about his brother on January 3rd, it was now the 5th, and the thoughts still clung to his mind like gum.

As he watched the water boil, his sister's voice echoed in his head.

“He doesn’t have a cup,” she had said, gesturing with her hands. “That’s how the doctor explained it. For example, even if there’s water, you can’t drink it without a cup. Some people are born without the cup in their minds that analyzes letters. No matter how much knowledge they have, they can’t scoop it up. But now, if they’re trained from a young age, they can make that cup themselves. That’s what stimulates the inactive nerves to start working. But the current research says that even with training, the process can’t be fully activated, so reading and writing might still take a long time. The most important thing is not to blame these children. If they’re blamed, it only deepens the complex they already have about their inability, lowers their self-esteem even further, and it can lead to stress, depression, or even violent behavior. Mitsuru never got violent, but he always seemed completely exhausted after coming home from school.”

She had continued, “When I first heard this from the doctor, I was in shock and couldn’t sleep at night. But over time, I started to calm down. Yasushi has a handicap, but now I understand what that means and what I need to do. I also learned that reading and writing difficulties don’t limit a child’s potential. There are people with dyslexia who’ve become scholars or doctors. My responsibility is to recognize Yasushi’s potential early and help it grow.”

Itsuki turned off the gas. The water had boiled, but he no longer felt like drinking coffee. He clicked his tongue in frustration and lay down on the sofa. What is my brother? He wondered. Is it really something that can’t just be dismissed as stupidity? What do I need to change about how I view him?

“Such a hassle.”

It would have been better if Mitsuru didn’t exist. It wouldn’t have mattered if he were dead. Because of him, my elementary school days were miserable. The past can’t be changed now.

Mitsuru probably wouldn’t contact the family again. After all, Itsuki had told him not to. And that should be fine. Mitsuru left home on his own and agreed to be removed from the family register. I didn’t say anything wrong.

Just forget it, Itsuki told himself. If I forget, everything will end without incident. As he thought about this, he remembered the presents he had left in the closet. He had completely forgotten about them until now. He retrieved the bag from the closet and dumped the contents onto the floor. If it’s something I can throw away, I’ll just get rid of it now instead of waiting for garbage day.

The red wrapping paper contained a scarf, the orange one a necklace, the purple one a tie pin, the blue one a fountain pen, and the yellow one a set of toy cars. None of the items were particularly valuable. Beneath the scattered wrapping paper, Itsuki found a folded piece of white paper. When he opened it, he saw a note written in awfully messy handwriting: "Mom: red, Dad: purple..." indicating who each gift was for.

Under "Itsuki: blue," there was a final line that read, “Really, goodbye,” written in shaky characters.

Itsuki stared blankly at the note. Then he looked at the presents he had torn open and scattered on the floor and wondered, What am I doing? There was no need to get worked up and throw them away. I could just give them to everyone, saying they were from me. That’s what Mitsuru wanted. What’s the point of throwing them away?

...My sister said that Dad was a pitiable person, but I couldn’t understand. ...There was no way I could have understood.

◇:*:◆:*:◇

The window panes rattled. The storm shutters had been left open, and rain was streaming down the glass. At the end of February, it wasn’t snowing but it was cold, pouring rain.

He had forgotten to close the curtains, leaving them that way all night, but he didn’t mind. The room was dark, so he figured no one could see inside.

“Keita, are you awake?”

Mitsuru’s voice came from behind him.

“Yeah.”

They both had the day off. The day before, they had talked about where to go, but with the rain, all those plans seemed washed away. Not that they had decided on anything specific, to begin with.

“It’s pouring,” Mitsuru said, pulling Keita into his arms. The warmth was comforting. When Keita closed his eyes, Mitsuru asked, “Are you going to fall asleep again?”

“It feels good like this,” Keita replied.

“Let’s talk,” Mitsuru said playfully, nibbling on Keita’s ear.

“Talk then. I’m listening.”

“You won’t fall asleep?”

“If it’s boring, I’ll fall asleep.”

“You’re so mean,” Mitsuru said with a mock pout, making Keita laugh. Then Mitsuru tickled his sides, making Keita squirm and thrash on the bed. After their playful wrestling, they lay together, slightly sweaty. Mitsuru loved to kiss, and Keita, who enjoyed it too, indulged him endlessly.

Between kisses, Keita glanced at the rain again. He placed his hand over Mitsuru’s arm, which was wrapped around him. This feels nice, he thought. Is this what happiness feels like? He wondered if he was being overly sentimental.

Keita had been working for almost three years now. His job mostly involved repetitive clerical tasks, and he was busy. Back in his student days, he never imagined himself wearing a suit to work, but people adapt. He wasn’t writing novels anymore. Maybe he would start again someday, but he didn’t know when.

Keita turned on the TV and stared at it blankly. Mitsuru watched with him. Keita was hungry but didn’t want to leave the comfort of the bed.

Come to think of it, Keita noticed that Mitsuru didn’t seem to watch romantic movies as much as he used to.

Suddenly, Keita heard the sound of sniffling behind him and turned to see Mitsuru crying. He stroked Mitsuru’s head and asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Don’t die,” Mitsuru pleaded through his tears. “Please don’t die before I do.”

Was it because of the news on TV? There had been a report about a man who had died in a car accident, and he was the same age as him. Mitsuru was often moved to tears by even the smallest things.

“I’ll try not to,” Keita replied.

“Can I follow you if you do?”

“If you do, I’ll kick you back. Why do you think I’ve been helping you with high school and culinary school? I’m not going to let you waste all the effort I’ve put into enlarging your textbooks and adding furigana.”

Mitsuru fell silent. Keita thought, He’s going to cry again.

“There’s no point in imagining sad things and crying about them,” Keita said. It really was pointless. He wished time would pass more quickly. He wanted Mitsuru to graduate from school and become a great chef. Mitsuru had talent, the way he plated dishes so beautifully, like works of art. Keita wanted Mitsuru to be praised more and more, to be in demand, to reach a place where he could recognize his own worth. Then maybe he wouldn’t say things like wanting to follow Keita in death. But would Keita feel lonely if that happened? Would he feel lonely once his lover, whom he had nurtured, grew beyond him?

No matter how things change from now on, their relationship probably won’t end. That certainty allows them to stay close without fear. Keita is convinced that this is the kind of relationship he always wanted. Living for someone else isn’t so bad; what he gives, he gets back in return.

As they continued to share comforting kisses, Keita found himself laid back on the sheets. As they pressed together face-to-face, his heart raced. The scent of Mitsuru made Keita’s head tingle. When Mitsuru pressed his thigh against Keita’s groin, Keita let out a soft breath.

The doorbell rang. They ignored it the first time, but it rang again. It was distracting. Mitsuru must have felt the same because he scratched his head and jumped out of bed. He pulled on his pants and padded down the hallway. It’s probably just a newspaper subscription solicitor or a door-to-door salesperson… Keita thought, but then Mitsuru rushed back into the room, flustered.

“It’s Mom and Midori. They’ve brought a little kid with them.”

Keita jumped up in surprise.

“At first, I wasn’t sure, but they’re wearing the gifts I gave them, so I’m pretty sure it’s them. What should I do? I’m not supposed to meet them, right? Itsuki told me not to. Maybe I should ask them to leave?”

As Mitsuru panicked, Keita found himself becoming oddly calm.

“Just meet them.”

Mitsuru’s eyes widened.

“Just meet them. I’ll stay in the other room. If they came here, it probably means they’ve forgiven you.”

“Do you really think so?”

Mitsuru looked like he was experiencing a whirlwind of emotions, like “all his Christmases had come at once.” Keita gently reminded him, “Anyway, calm down.”

“Ask them to wait outside for a little while. Then get dressed, wash your face…”

Keita put his hand on Mitsuru's hair, who looked happy but was also anxious and restless.

“And make sure you fix your bedhead too,” Keita added with a smile.

Mitsuru nodded, muttering “Okay,” and kissed Keita. Then, with a hurried “I’m so happy,” he kissed him again before rushing off.

THE END

◇:*:◆:*:◇

This book is an updated version of *Secret*, which was originally published in novel form by Soryusha in April 2007. It was then republished by Kodansha Bunko in December 2013.

Footnotes

0. Content warning: NSFW, ableism, homophobia.

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