The Eyes of a Child: Chapter 03

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In the middle of the night, there was a rustling sound. Misaki assumed it was Jotaro getting up to use the bathroom and didn’t pay it any mind. But time passed, and Jotaro didn’t seem to be coming back to his futon. When Misaki glanced over, he saw that Jotaro was still fast asleep, bundled up in the kotatsu blanket next to his brother.

So if it wasn’t Jotaro...

Misaki rose quietly and scanned the room. There was a clatter from the kitchen. Silently, he crept toward the sound.

Hitoshi was standing blankly in front of the gas stove. The lid to the curry pot was off. Misaki tilted his head in confusion, What the hell is he doing? But then it suddenly clicked.

Hitoshi hadn’t eaten much at dinner. He must have gotten hungry now and was sneaking a bite.

Misaki flipped on the kitchen light. Startled by the sudden brightness, Hitoshi jumped and looked around in a panic. When he spotted Misaki, his face drained of color.

“I-I’m sorry! I’m really sorry!”

He dropped into a crouch, apologizing frantically. Misaki peeked into the curry pot. There was only the curry roux left, no rice. Not exactly appetizing, he thought. But the pot looked untouched.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

Hitoshi clutched his head, trembling all over. He was muttering something under his breath, but Misaki couldn’t make out the words.

“Speak clearly.”

He hadn’t meant to sound threatening, but Hitoshi only trembled harder.

“T-the smell…”

That was the only word Misaki could catch.

“The smell?”

Still not understanding, he tilted his head.

“I was hungry… and the smell of the curry…”

So that was it, he hadn’t eaten earlier, and now he was trying to soothe his hunger just by smelling the curry. It was his own fault for skipping dinner, but watching Hitoshi tremble in the corner of the kitchen made Misaki feel unexpectedly sorry for him.

Sighing, Misaki measured out half a cup of rice and set it in the rice cooker. Then he crouched down to Hitoshi’s eye level.

“Sorry I was harsh before dinner.”

Even after the apology, Hitoshi didn’t stop shaking. The man Hitoshi used to be had been cold and ruthless, but the child before him hadn’t turned into that person yet. Somewhere along the way, something had gone wrong. Misaki didn’t know what. But the child Hitoshi in front of him bore no blame for what would happen later.

And with that realization, the anger Misaki had felt toward his brother simply faded away.

It takes a lot of energy to hate someone. And from what Misaki had learned in life, for all the energy it takes, hate doesn’t give you much back.

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

He reached out, copying how Jotaro would gently pat someone’s head, but Hitoshi flinched and pressed himself tightly against the wall. His eyes were still filled with fear. Well, I did yell at him a lot, Misaki thought, and decided not to push it.

Eventually, the rice finished cooking. Misaki spooned it onto a plate, poured over the reheated curry, added a spoon, and placed it in front of Hitoshi.

“Go ahead, eat.”

Hitoshi looked up at him in surprise, then down at the curry, then back at Misaki, his hands stayed still. Misaki teased him, starting to pull the plate away.

“If you’re not gonna eat it, I’ll take it.”

That’s when Hitoshi’s hands shot out, as if afraid to lose it.

“I want it…”

Misaki handed the plate over.

Hitoshi gripped the spoon tightly and began to devour the food like he hadn’t eaten in days.

“Good?” Misaki asked.

Mouth stuffed with rice, Hitoshi nodded rapidly. As soon as there was room in his mouth, he kept repeating “Delicious, delicious” over and over again. Just being given food seemed to lower his guard; even when their eyes met, Hitoshi no longer looked away in fear.

He ate every last bite, even licking the plate clean, or close enough, and let out a deeply satisfied breath.

“Full now?”

Hitoshi gave a little nod.

“Then you’ll be able to sleep.”

As Misaki set the dirty dishes in the sink, he let out a long yawn, “fwaah.” Just then, he felt a tug at his clothes. He looked down to find Hitoshi clutching the hem of his pajamas.

“Onii-chan, thank you.”

Being thanked so honestly made Misaki feel awkward, and his face flushed slightly for no reason.

“Um, you know… Onii-chan, you kinda look like my dad.”

With a cheerful expression, Hitoshi said it and smiled, only to quickly droop and lower his gaze.

“Where did Daddy and Mommy go, I wonder? Why did they only take Misaki with them?”

Misaki considered telling him that their parents had become stars in the sky, it might be easier for a child to understand. But whether he should speak the truth or not… he just couldn’t decide.

“Your family went on a journey together. There were too many people who wanted to go, so you had to wait your turn. But someday, they’ll come back for you. Until then, you’ll stay here and be a good boy, okay?”

Hitoshi’s eyes went wide. He looked down, then slowly raised his face again.

“Misaki went with Dad and Mom, huh. I’m the onii-chan, so I have to be patient, don’t I?”

He smiled, though his lips were pressed into a tight line.

“I’m okay. I’ll be good. I’m the onii-chan, after all. If I cry, Misaki would just laugh at me.”

But his nose began to sniffle. His words were strong, but the emotion underneath betrayed him. Watching it unfold made Misaki feel a pang of sympathy.

“You’re a good kid. But you know… it’s okay to cry when you’re sad.”

“If I cry, you won’t get mad at me?”

That question brought Misaki back to earlier that day, he remembered how he’d yelled every time Hitoshi cried. Maybe… maybe he really had said something awful to a lonely little kid.

When Misaki replied, “Of course not,” and gently stroked his head, Hitoshi suddenly threw his arms around him. Misaki toppled backward, and Hitoshi clung tightly to his chest, wailing loudly. Misaki let out a thin, deep sigh at the pitiful sight of himself, flattened beneath a sobbing child he had just told it was okay to cry.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

The sun was starting to set. As Misaki rode his bike toward the shop gate, a voice called out, “Hey, Misaki!” It was Oyassan.

“I meant to talk to you earlier today, but it slipped my mind. How’s your brother doing?”

Misaki gave a small shrug and shook his head.

“Still a total kid.”

The day after Misaki had let it slip to Matsui that his brother had lost his memory, Oyassan had offhandedly muttered during lunch break, “You’ve got it tough too, huh.” When Misaki asked, “What are you talking about?” Oyassan got flustered and tried to play it off, “You know, family stuff and all that…” It was obvious Matsui and his big mouth had blabbed. Misaki hadn’t planned on keeping it a secret, but Matsui’s balloon-headed chatterbox nature was a bit much to take.

“It’s been two weeks since he came to live with us, and honestly, he and Jotaro are on the same level. They’ve been happily doing elementary school math together and all.”

Oyassan let out a short chuckle.

“Come to think of it, didn’t you say the other day that you were short on futons now that you’ve got a big one more under your roof? I mentioned it to my wife, and she said we’ve got an old one we could give you if you want it. How about it?”

“Seriously? That’d be amazing. I was just thinking it was kind of pitiful keeping him in the kotatsu blanket forever. This’ll really help me out.”

Thrilled, Misaki made his way to Oyassan’s house behind the shop and gratefully accepted the old futon. It smelled musty and the edges were fraying, but he was still thankful to have it. Compared to when it was just the two of them, having one more mouth to feed definitely strained the budget. Honestly, he wanted to cut any unnecessary spending wherever he could.

He strapped the futon awkwardly to the back of his bike, and despite Oyassan’s skeptical “You really gonna make it home like that?” Misaki pedaled off, wobbling the whole way. When he finally arrived at the apartment and parked his bike, the sound of a window sliding open echoed above him.

“Welcome home, big bro!”

Hitoshi leaned halfway out the window, beaming, waving both hands high in the air.

“Hey, Hitoshi! Come down here for a sec.”

“Okay!”

The window rattled shut, followed by the bang of the front door slamming. Hitoshi came tearing down the metal staircase so loudly it sounded like he was falling rather than running. Huffing and puffing, he stood in front of Misaki. Misaki flicked the middle of Hitoshi’s forehead with a snap, right where his bangs split across his small forehead.

Startled, Hitoshi quickly covered his forehead with both hands.

“How many times have I told you to take the stairs slow? And stop slamming the door like that, you’re gonna piss off the neighbors.”

Told off, Hitoshi’s eyes welled up and his lips twisted. He looked like he was about to cry.

“I’m sorry.”

For such a big guy, the way he hung his head and apologized was oddly endearing. Misaki couldn’t help but smile just a little.

“Alright, as long as you get it. Just don’t do it again. Now take this futon upstairs. It’s yours.”

“Whoa! A futon, a futon!”

Hitoshi dove at the futon strapped to the back of the bike.

“I went out of my way to get this for you, so you better appreciate it.”

“I do, thank you!”

Even though it was an old, worn hand-me-down, Hitoshi’s face lit up with genuine joy. Misaki figured he’d let Hitoshi use it starting tonight, but it smelled pretty strongly of mildew. The sun was already going down, but he hung it outside for a bit anyway, just to air it out.

After hanging up the futon, Misaki glanced around the room. Something felt off, one head was missing.

“Hey, Hitoshi. Where’s Jotaro?”

Hitoshi, who had been happily stroking the aired-out futon, turned around.

“He said he was going to Ucchan’s place from Class 1 to play.”

Ucchan had been Jotaro’s friend since kindergarten.

“Bet you felt lonely getting left behind.”

Hitoshi shook his head, but his expression said otherwise, it screamed lonely. Misaki gave that stubborn little head a few light pats.

“Wanna come grocery shopping with me?”

“Yeah!”

He nodded enthusiastically, clearly pleased. With his wallet in one hand, Misaki shoved his feet into his sneakers. Hitoshi, meanwhile, wore a mismatched outfit: a tight-fitting T-shirt, a pair of short jeans, and leather shoes. Misaki’s clothes never quite fit Hitoshi’s broad frame. What he had on now was one of Misaki’s hand-me-downs, something he could manage to wear, if only barely. To be honest, that was the only reason he had it on. Their financial situation was far from comfortable, and Misaki hadn’t bought new clothes for himself in over a year. Outfitting Hitoshi too was out of the question.

Still, seeing Hitoshi walk around without a care in the world, even dressed like that, stirred something like parental instinct in Misaki. He found himself thinking that he wanted to buy the kid at least one decent outfit.

“What’s for dinner tonight, Onii-chan?”

I want to… but I don’t have the money, Misaki thought privately, torn by the conflict. Meanwhile, Hitoshi asked the question with carefree innocence.

“We’ll decide when we get to the store. If we find something cheap and tasty, we’ll go with that. Is there anything you want to eat?”

“I’m okay with anything.”

If it had been Jotaro, he’d be clinging to Misaki’s side, demanding one thing after another. But Hitoshi never asserted himself like that. Even at six years old, he seemed to understand that he was just a guest in this house. He never whined, was always quiet, always obedient. That he wasn’t a handful was, honestly, a relief.

At the very beginning, Hitoshi had cried constantly, and it had driven Misaki up the wall. But as long as Misaki didn’t lash out, Hitoshi wouldn’t cry. He looked like a grown man no matter how you examined him, but he spoke and acted like a child. That surreal disconnect, the sight of a grown man with the mind of a six-year-old, was something Misaki was gradually getting used to.

Suddenly, Hitoshi came to a stop, and Misaki halted beside him. Hitoshi was staring intently at his reflection in a store window.

“I’m big,” he murmured. “My hands, my feet, my face… they’re all big. I wonder why I got so big.”

It wasn’t that he’d grown. He had already grown, and only his mind had reverted to being six years old. Misaki didn’t feel like launching into that complicated explanation. If he did, Hitoshi would probably start asking what kind of adult he had been. And no matter how much Misaki wanted to protect him, he knew he could never bring himself to praise the adult version of his brother.

He gave Hitoshi’s hand a firm tug. “Come on, let’s go.”

“Okay.”

Walking side by side like this brought back old memories. Back when their parents were still alive and the four of them lived together, Misaki had always trailed behind his big brother. He was slow because of his short legs, and he constantly got distracted, dawdling along the way. He was always falling behind. His brother would stop over and over, glance back, and pull Misaki along by the hand. That hand had been bigger than his own, warm and solid. Just holding onto it had made all his fears seem to disappear.

Now, he could recall that memory without the same resentment he used to feel, maybe because the man walking beside him was still that same brother from back then. Still kind, still a crybaby, still the big brother who’d loved his little brother dearly.

“Onii-chan.”

The hand in his squeezed tightly.

“You know, I always wanted to grow up. That’s why God made me big, I think.”

Misaki stopped walking, and Hitoshi gave him a bright smile.

“My little brother, he’s named Misaki too, just like you. When he was born, Mama told me to take good care of him. So I always did my best to be nice to him. But then…”

Suddenly, Hitoshi’s face crumpled into something sad.

“You know, when you fell down the stairs, I couldn’t do anything. You were crawling and almost fell, and I caught you at the top of the stairs, but you were heavy, and my hands slipped. You cried and cried, and I felt so bad for you. That’s why I wanted to grow up. I thought if I got bigger, I’d be strong and I could protect cute little Misaki from scary things, from bad things, from anything dangerous.”

Listening to him, Misaki started to feel embarrassed. He had never known that Hitoshi had thought of him like that back then, and the realization made him squirm with secondhand embarrassment.

“Your face is red, Onii-chan.”

“Shut up.”

He gave Hitoshi a light whack on the head as a cover for his flustered feelings. “Oww,” Hitoshi whined, clutching his head with both hands.

Watching his brother’s face, Misaki noticed faint patches of stubble growing unevenly from under Hitoshi’s nose to his chin.

“You didn’t shave today, did you?”

Hitoshi quickly covered his mouth instead of his head this time.

“I told you to shave every day. I even showed you how. It’s part of basic grooming, like washing your face or brushing your teeth.”

“But I don’t like shaving. It makes my face feel weird and tingly.”

“Don’t whine about it. Half-grown stubble just looks dirty. Make sure you shave when you get home.”

Hitoshi didn’t look convinced, but he mumbled a reluctant “Okay.” And then, under his breath, added, “Being grown-up is such a pain.”

◇:-:◆:-:◇

Misaki handed Hitoshi a new spare key and told him that as long as he locked the door properly, he could go outside and play. But Hitoshi never showed any interest in going out unless he was tagging along with Misaki on a shopping trip. He either watched TV or played games at home. Misaki had no intention of letting this oversized man loaf around the house forever, but with a brain functioning at the level of a six-year-old, he didn’t know how to get Hitoshi to start working.

It wasn’t like he could just throw a man who thought on the same level as Jotaro into society. Misaki decided Hitoshi would need to gain some basic knowledge first, but even then, he had no idea how to “educate” him. A normal six-year-old would be in elementary school, but a man who, under normal circumstances, would’ve had a university degree couldn’t exactly be sent back to first grade. That just wasn’t realistic.

“Jin’s ‘education,’ huh...”

Misaki brought it up with Matsui during a break at work. By mid-May, rainy days started to far outnumber sunny ones. Right now, they were sitting in the dim corner of the warehouse, listening to the rain pounding on the tin roof while absentmindedly staring at a compact car in the middle of a paint job. Matsui ground his half-smoked cigarette against the floor.

“Sounds rough. He’s basically restarting his whole life from zero.”

Matsui had dropped out of high school after going off the rails at sixteen. He was a decent guy, kind even, but he had this odd quirk, no matter how much Misaki hated it, he insisted on calling Jotaro “Joe” and Hitoshi “Jin” in Westernized nicknames.

“I figured I could just have him read Jotaro’s textbooks, but even if he went through elementary, middle, and high school, that’s twelve years, right? Hitoshi’s thirty now. He’d be forty-two by the time his brain’s fully ‘educated.’ Just thinking about it makes my head spin. But if I don’t teach him something now, it’s going to be a problem down the line...”

Matsui sighed and muttered, “Yeah, that’s serious stuff.”

“If his memory just came back all of a sudden, it’d be fine. But what do you think the odds are on that?”

“Beats me.”

“But it can come back, right?”

The man from the company board had said the chances were fifty-fifty, but there was no way to predict when or if it would happen. Suddenly, Matsui clapped his hands.

“Hey, while he’s at elementary school level, you could teach Jin yourself! You know, strict and intense like a genius-kid cram course!”

“Idiot, I’d need textbooks for that. And I don’t have the cash to buy all those reference books. Yeah... money’s a big hurdle here. Man, I wish I’d win the lottery or something. Then I could hire a private tutor for Hitoshi.”

“Come on, you can’t rely on the lottery!”

Misaki thought to himself that he of all people didn’t get to say that, this was the same guy who bought tens of thousands of yen worth of lottery tickets every December. Oblivious to Misaki’s silent judgment, Matsui scratched his ear nonchalantly. Then, suddenly turning around, he raised his voice.

“Oh! Oyassan’s daughter is in high school, right? She might still have her elementary and middle school textbooks lying around. That family tends to hold onto stuff.”

That offhand suggestion, desperate as grasping at straws, turned out to be a lucky catch. That very day, Misaki brought back an old cardboard box wrapped in multiple layers of plastic to keep out the rain. The moment he set it down with a thud in the corner of the room, Jotaro ran over to it.

“What’s this?”

He pulled out books labeled Third Grade Science and Middle School Japanese II.

“They’re textbooks. Hitoshi, come over here for a sec.”

Hitoshi, who’d been preparing dinner, rushed over to Misaki’s side like an obedient dog.

“What is it, Onii-chan?”

Misaki peered into the box alongside him.

"These are all school textbooks. Starting tomorrow, you’re going to study with them."

Hitoshi’s eyes went wide, and then, his face lit up in a beaming smile.

"I get to go to elementary school starting tomorrow?!"

His voice bounced with excitement. Before Misaki could say anything, Hitoshi grabbed Jotaro’s hands and started dancing around.

"Yay! Yay! I get to go to school! I wonder if I’ll make friends at this new school too?"

Jotaro answered with full confidence, "You definitely will!"

Hitoshi laughed as he danced, but suddenly his expression turned anxious and he murmured softly:

"But I’m big… What if the other kids bully me?"

"You’ll be fine. If anyone tries to bully you, I won’t let them."

That made Misaki’s chest ache. But letting Hitoshi carry on with the misunderstanding would be worse.

"Hitoshi, listen to me carefully."

Misaki’s firm tone made Hitoshi stop dancing immediately.

"Sit in front of me."

Hitoshi knelt properly in front of Misaki, legs folded underneath him.

"I’m sorry, but you can’t go to elementary school. You’re... well, too big. The school has rules, and they said it’s not allowed."

Hitoshi’s flushed cheeks drained of color. He bit his lip and looked down.

"Why not? Why is Hitoshi the only one who can’t go?!"

Jotaro grabbed Misaki’s shoulder and shook him hard, shouting.

"What’s not allowed just isn’t, it’s a rule. You can’t go to school, but you still have to study, so I borrowed these textbooks. Starting tomorrow, I’ll teach you myself. You’ll study at home. Got it? Hitoshi, answer me."

For once, Hitoshi didn’t answer right away. After a brief pause, he replied in a tiny voice: "...Okay."

That night’s dinner was burnt fish. Misaki had called Hitoshi over in the middle of cooking, and it ended up charred. It was still edible, so they ate it, but the table felt heavy, like the shadow of the “no school” news was still hanging in the air. Hitoshi didn’t say a single word the whole meal. Misaki hadn’t realized just how badly Hitoshi had wanted to go to school.

He’d only wanted Hitoshi to study so he could gain at least a basic level of general knowledge. But for six-year-old Hitoshi, school wasn’t just a place to learn, it was a place to play with friends. Misaki wondered why Hitoshi had never said anything if he’d wanted it so badly. Maybe he was just being considerate? He was the kind of kid who, when asked what he wanted to eat, would say “anything’s fine” to avoid being a bother.

I messed up, Misaki thought, regretting it deeply. Because of Hitoshi’s large body, he kept forgetting that inside, Hitoshi was still a child.

He let out a quiet sigh.

Ever since Hitoshi had come into his life, everything had been trouble and extra work. Still, just as Matsui had said earlier that day, Misaki didn’t wish for Hitoshi’s memories to return, not even a little. He’d rather have this gentle, honest child than have Hitoshi turn back into the cold, emotionless man he once was.

I’m going to change your life. I’ll raise you into a kind man.

That feeling, something like fatherly affection, had started to grow in Misaki’s chest.

…That night, Misaki was woken by the sound of crying. He turned over and saw Hitoshi with his face buried in the pillow, sniffling quietly. The room was small, and their futons were laid out side-by-side. Misaki only had to lift his torso slightly to reach Hitoshi. He gently placed his hand on the crying boy’s head.

Startled, Hitoshi looked up at him with tear-soaked eyes.

"Don’t cry so much."

Hitoshi shook his head and pressed his face back into the pillow.

"You’re sad you can’t go to school, right? I’m sorry, but you’ll have to bear with it. If I could send you, I would... but you’re just too big. I’m really sorry."

Hitoshi lifted his head and wiped the corners of his eyes.

"Okay. I’ll be strong."

Hearing him say that so bravely, with tearful eyes, made Misaki’s heart clench. He gently, gently stroked Hitoshi’s head until the boy finally stopped crying.

“Onii-chan.”

Hitoshi murmured the word quietly.

“Can I come over there?”

It was obvious the futon would be too narrow for two grown men… but Misaki couldn’t bring himself to say Don’t come to Hitoshi, who looked so dejected and had been crying.

“Sure.”

Hitoshi slipped out of his own futon, hugged his pillow, and crawled in beside Misaki. It was indeed cramped, and when Misaki shifted slightly, Hitoshi clung to his chest. Held tight by someone even bigger than himself, Misaki nearly lost his breath.

“Hh… Hitoshi.”

Hitoshi pressed his face against Misaki’s chest. His shoulders trembled, and Misaki could feel the front of his shirt slowly growing damp. Enduring the discomfort and shortness of breath, Misaki let out a soft sigh and gently stroked Hitoshi’s head. As he kept doing so, the faint sobs gradually quieted, and the tight grip around his body loosened. The sound of the rain, which hadn’t stopped all day, seemed to grow louder in the silence. Eventually, while continuing to run his hand through Hitoshi’s hair, Misaki forgot all about the cramped space and drifted off to sleep before he realized it.

After crying through the night, Hitoshi seemed to have shaken it all off. He did watch enviously as Jotaro headed off to elementary school, but he didn’t look gloomy anymore. On top of that, he approached learning with genuine curiosity and enthusiasm. Even before Misaki had to say anything, Hitoshi had already taken the textbooks out of the cardboard box and lined them up. Since Misaki worked during the day, their lessons usually happened at night. But even without Misaki around, Hitoshi would read the books on his own.

Back in the early days of their studying, Misaki had once praised Hitoshi for working hard, and that praise must have meant a lot to him. Since then, Hitoshi had taken to proudly showing off pages of copied kanji and completed math problems whenever Misaki came home. By the time the muggy rainy season passed and July arrived, Hitoshi could already read a third-grade Japanese language textbook.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

In just another week, elementary school would be out for summer vacation, and with only one electric fan in the house, it had already become unbearably hard to sleep at night. Around that time, Jotaro began saying he couldn’t hear. Some kind of pus-like fluid was coming out too, and thinking it might be something serious, Misaki took him to a clinic. They were told it was an inflammation and treated it with medication for three days, but there was no sign of improvement.

Since it was just a small private practice, Misaki grew concerned and brought him to a larger hospital, where they discovered that a cholesteatoma had formed behind his eardrum. It wasn’t malignant, but it would require hospitalization and surgery.

It seemed that the surgery and recovery could be completed during the summer break, so there wouldn’t be any impact on his studies. However, there was another, much bigger problem.

While the kids played video games, Misaki sat in the corner of the room, repeatedly opening his bankbook and sighing. Even with insurance coverage, the operation wouldn’t be free. Hospitalization meant needing a significant sum all at once. He hadn’t been wasting money, but his salary was meager to begin with, and on top of that, he was still repaying his grandmother monthly for the money he’d borrowed. His bank balance was practically zero, so close that he felt like it would be cleaner if it were just empty already.

He considered asking Oyassan for an advance on his wages, but given the current recession, he knew the shop wasn’t doing well. Besides, he’d already leaned heavily on Oyassan when it came to Megumi. He hesitated to take advantage of someone’s kindness yet again by asking for a loan. But even so, he didn’t want to delay the surgery over money.

After thinking it over, Misaki decided to take on a night job.

The only kind of job that paid daily and offered decent wages was physical labor at night. After finishing his daytime job at the auto repair shop, Misaki started working night shifts in road construction from 7 p.m. until 3 a.m.

Because his daytime work wasn’t too grueling, he managed fine for the first two or three days. But as it went on for a week, then ten days, the lack of sleep and mounting fatigue caught up to him, and he began nodding off even in the middle of the day without realizing it.

That day was no different. After finishing the night shift at 3 a.m., Misaki rushed home to catch some sleep, and by 8:30 a.m., he was back inside the auto repair shop. As he walked in, yawning, his legs gave a wobble and his toolbox slammed hard into the wall of the shop. One of the corners was a little dented, but the lid still opened and closed just fine. Relieved, he kept walking, only to bump into something again. His focus was clearly shot.

When Oyassan came into the shop, Misaki greeted him with the usual, “Good morning,” but Oyassan came hurrying over in a panic.

“You all right?” he asked.

Misaki blinked, not understanding what he meant, and instinctively glanced around.

“Your face is all pale and ashy. Are you eating properly? You sure you’re not sick?”

“I’m fine. Don’t make such a big deal out of it.”

Sure, he was tired and sleepy, but he didn’t think his complexion looked bad enough to alarm anyone. Misaki gave a small laugh, thinking Oyassan was just overreacting.

But as the morning and afternoon passed and he kept working, his body started to feel heavier and heavier. Even raising his arms began to feel like a struggle. Still, if he took a half-day off, his pay would be docked accordingly. His pride wouldn’t let him slack off just because he was tired, and he couldn’t afford to rest either, so Misaki kept working in silence. Even casual banter felt like too much effort.

By evening, the pedals of his bicycle felt impossibly heavy as he rode home from the shop to the apartment. The moment he got through the door, he collapsed onto the tatami floor. Hitoshi had made dinner for them, but even though he was hungry, the idea of eating felt like too much of a hassle. He was so sleepy that, for the hour before he left for his night shift, Misaki just lay there, desperately trying to snatch a bit of rest.

Jotaro had been admitted to the hospital since the day before. He was probably feeling anxious, and if it were possible, Misaki would’ve liked to stay by his side for as long as he could. But that wasn’t an option. He had to work to earn money, there was no way around it. When he explained that to Jotaro, the boy had obediently accepted it without fuss. The hospital was within walking distance, and during the day, Hitoshi kept him company, so at least that helped ease some of Misaki’s worries.

The alarm clock blared, forcing Misaki to pry open his heavy eyelids. He tried to sit up, but his body felt like it was made of lead, exhausted to the core, even more so than before falling asleep. Still, he gritted his teeth and somehow managed to stand, only for Hitoshi to suddenly cling to him.

“Don’t go, Onii-chan,” Hitoshi said, his voice tight.

He usually wasn’t one to complain, but this time, Hitoshi was being stubborn. Misaki glanced up at the clock on the wall.

“Let go. I’ve gotta go to work.”

Even shaking off a child felt like too much effort.

“But you haven’t eaten properly!” Hitoshi cried.

On the low table sat a plate of dinner, wrapped in plastic wrap. Misaki wanted to eat, but there wasn’t enough time left for that.

“I’ll eat when I get back, alright?”

“But… but your face is pale!”

Hitoshi looked deadly serious, and Misaki could feel just how much the boy was genuinely worried about him, it hit him hard. But still, he couldn’t afford not to go. The fact that he was making a child worry like this only made him feel worse. Misaki slapped his own face, trying to snap himself awake, then turned and flashed Hitoshi a big, forced smile.

“Don’t worry. I’m gonna go out there and earn a ton, okay? Make sure you lock the door before bed. And save my dinner, alright? I’ll eat every last bit when I get back.”

With Hitoshi watching him anxiously, Misaki forced himself to look lively as he headed out to work. But that night, during his shift, Misaki suddenly collapsed. His consciousness fading in and out, he was rushed to the hospital in an ambulance.

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