The Eyes of a Child: Chapter 05

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Misaki tilted his head, wondering where he’d gone wrong with sex education. Ever since he’d taught Hitoshi about masturbation, the boy had been clinging to him daily, saying, “Let’s do it together.”

It wasn’t supposed to be a group activity, so Misaki told him to do it alone, but Hitoshi insisted he couldn’t do it properly unless his big brother watched. No matter how many times Misaki refused, Hitoshi would whine and throw tantrums. Eventually, fed up with how persistent he was, Misaki snapped, “Then don’t do it at all!” and left him alone.

But then Hitoshi would crawl under the futon on his own, pressing his obviously aroused crotch against Misaki’s back with a resentful air. Ignoring the awkward and uncomfortable pressure, Misaki eventually noticed his back growing damp.

As the laundry piled and Misaki’s shouting increased day by day, he finally gave in. That’s how it became a routine, like going to the bathroom together, except now it was mutual masturbation.

They’d sit facing each other with their pants down, sneaking side glances at each other’s genitals while stroking their own. At first, Misaki felt inferior about the size difference, clearly visible even when flaccid, but after a while, he stopped caring.

It was tolerable as long as they only touched themselves. But soon, Hitoshi started saying, “Onii-chan, you do it.” Misaki knew that it felt better when someone else did it, but there was something about making someone else come that he just couldn’t get past.

“Do it, do it.”

Hitoshi wouldn’t let up, whining persistently. Even if Misaki shouted like before, Hitoshi didn’t flinch anymore, he seemed to have realized that his brother had gone soft on him.

So he stuck to Misaki like glue, even after being yelled at. And when Misaki couldn’t take the pestering any longer, he gave up, on the fourth day since Hitoshi started begging.

Reluctantly, Misaki reached out and slowly stroked Hitoshi’s large, weighty penis. It twitched in his hand and grew hard almost immediately, then he came with embarrassing ease. Hitoshi sighed contentedly, eyes narrowing in pleasure.

Right after that, he jumped on Misaki, saying, “Now I’ll do yours.”

“I-it’s okay, you don’t have to—”

Misaki tried to decline, but Hitoshi grabbed his penis anyway.

It had been a long time since someone else had touched him, and despite resisting, the sensation made it impossible to hold back. Slick with precome, every squeeze made wet noises.

Familiar pleasure made his hips tremble, and Misaki came with a short breath.

He barely had time to relax before Hitoshi slid in behind him, wedging himself between Misaki’s legs.

Even before he could process the sensation of Hitoshi’s erection pressing against his waist, a hand slid down his stomach and grabbed his softening penis again.

“Enough! I said stop…!”

He said the words, but his penis was already getting hard again.

Hitoshi fondled his scrotum with one hand and stroked his shaft with the other. Overwhelmed with pleasure, Misaki forgot it was Hitoshi who was doing it and closed his eyes in ecstasy.

Only gasps came out now.

Then, suddenly, his lips, slightly parted and trembling with each breath, were met with something wet.

When he opened his eyes, he found Hitoshi licking his lips and cheeks like a cat.

He licked with the tip of his tongue like it was an ice cream cone, looking genuinely happy. And seeing that, Misaki was suddenly reminded, of a deep kiss he once shared long ago.

The feeling of pleasure that seemed to reach all the way to his organs.

Something strange had been done to him, he must have been messed up somehow. Misaki suddenly wanted to kiss him, and pulled Hitoshi's lips toward his own. Then he slipped his tongue into Hitoshi's mouth. At first Hitoshi had been surprised, but gradually, enticed by Misaki’s movements, he began to twine his tongue around Misaki’s. As the kiss shifted, Misaki’s body reacted with shivers each time Hitoshi touched upon a sensitive place. Hitoshi seemed to notice and persistently kept going for those sensitive places. Misaki couldn’t stop shaking from the intense sensation both above and below, and ended up ejaculating in quick succession.

When he came back to himself, it was two in the morning. Misaki pressed both hands to his mouth, still feeling Hitoshi clinging to his back. He’d gone along with it, misled by Hitoshi’s childish words and demeanor, but this wasn’t masturbation. It was almost-sex. He felt fingers grasp his penis as if they thought he was asleep, and hastily grabbed Hitoshi’s hand to stop him from playing with it. Even so, Hitoshi relentlessly reached for Misaki’s groin. Misaki slapped him, pinched him, knocked his fingers away. Eventually, Hitoshi must’ve realized Misaki wouldn’t allow it, and started shifting his body behind him.

“I wanna touch you, Onii-chan, I wanna touch youuuu.”

What he was saying was pure childish whining, but what he was doing was unmistakably an adult act.

“That’s enough. Stop touching me.”

“But it feels good when I do…”

If Hitoshi were the one being touched and saying that, maybe Misaki could let it go. But Hitoshi was saying he felt good touching Misaki, which was, no matter how he looked at it, completely off.

“Hitoshi, listen…”

Still facing away, Misaki pushed himself upright. When he turned around, Hitoshi was lying on his back, gazing up at him. His face was lit up with delight, but there was nothing lewd about it. That was probably because a trace of childlike innocence still clung to him, in a way that felt surreal. The way his eyes stared so earnestly at Misaki made him look so endearing, Misaki couldn’t help but bury his fingers in Hitoshi’s hair and ruffle it around. But no matter how cute he was, some things had to be said.

“I know it’s a little late now, but... uh, look, this kind of stuff, boys aren’t supposed to do this kind of thing together.”

Hitoshi’s eyes went wide, then he tilted his head, puzzled.

“Why not?”

“Guys don’t, you know, touch each other like this, or kiss like this. It’s not something guys do.”

“It’s fine.”

Hitoshi clung to Misaki’s waist, almost playfully, looking inexplicably confident.

“It’s fine. I’m your boyfriend, so I can kiss you.”

Calling himself Misaki’s boyfriend, when he was a guy, was absurd, but he clearly meant it seriously, and that made it hard to laugh it off. Misaki didn’t want to hurt him.

“I could maybe be your ‘big brother’ or your ‘dad’, but not your boyfriend.”

Hitoshi sat up. While Misaki hesitated at the presence of that large body moving behind him, Hitoshi pressed a kiss to his lips, sucking gently.

“I love you, Onii-chan.”

He said it with a straight face.

“I love you so much. When I’m with you, my chest races and it feels good. I love kissing like this, and touching you too.”

Held in his arms, Misaki felt a chill down his back. The scent that hit his nose didn’t belong to Jotaro or himself, someone else’s scent pricked at his senses. Being told “I love you” made his heart jolt, and wrapped in Hitoshi’s warm chest, it started pounding faster. He knew it was just a child’s nonsense, but still, Misaki’s chest stirred. He shook his head hard to snap out of it and forcefully pushed Hitoshi off. If he didn’t get a grip right now, this whole situation would spiral out of control.

"You say you love me, but that's the same as when you say you love your mom or your dad," Misaki said.

Hitoshi shook his head.

"No, it's different. I love you. I really love you."

"Then can you explain what 'love' means?"

Hitoshi pressed his lips together in frustration.

"See? You can’t."

"When I’m near you, my heart pounds."

Hitoshi answered stubbornly.

"Your heart pounds when you’re watching a scary movie, too. So what’s the difference?"

Hitoshi couldn’t come up with an answer. Maybe because that frustrated him, he bit his lip and started crying in quiet sobs.

"Crying won’t solve anything."

Misaki gently patted Hitoshi’s head as the boy leaned into him like a puppy.

"You’re just lonely. You lost your family, and you're trying to use me to fill that longing. I don’t mind being like a father or a mother to you. I’ll be as kind as you need me to be. But I can’t be your boyfriend."

Misaki sensed that Hitoshi was about to try kissing him and gently avoided it.

"We’re not doing that together anymore. From now on, you’ll do it alone."

Hitoshi looked heartbroken. Seeing that, Misaki laughed.

"Why are you making that face like it’s the end of the world? All I said is that we’re not going to touch each other anymore. But when you're lonely, I’ll still lie down next to you. When you cry, I’ll comfort you. I’ll always be with you. So don’t make that face."

Hitoshi clung to Misaki, whispering I love you again and again.

Hitoshi was cute, but jerking off and kissing with a kid-minded guy like him wasn’t normal. And the fact that they were brothers made it even worse. Misaki lay down with Hitoshi still wrapped around him and kept stroking his head until he calmed down.

If Hitoshi were a little sister instead of a little brother... what would’ve happened in this exact same situation?

The thought scared Misaki.

I might have made her pregnant, he thought, and that scared him even more.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

His name being called snapped him back to himself. Before he realized it, Misaki had been sitting absentmindedly, still holding a tire rim in his hands.

“What’re you doing, Misaki-san? You said you’d already finished tightening those bolts over there, remember?”

Matsui was looking at him with a bewildered expression. Misaki apologized with a quick “Sorry…”, then wiped the sweat trickling down his forehead with the cuff of his coverall sleeve.

“You’ve been out of it lately, huh? Think it’s the summer heat getting to you?”

Over the past few days, zoning out like this had become a regular thing. It wasn’t that he was tired, but his mind kept drifting. And whenever he let his guard down, that guy would come to mind. A few days ago, it felt like something inside his head had come loose, and it hadn’t snapped back into place since. That’s how it felt.

Recalling how he’d touched Hitoshi. How they’d kissed. The memory alone made Misaki flush red.

Pleasure, once experienced, was a troublesome thing. It had already been a week since he’d stopped doing anything with Hitoshi, but now, in a different way than when Hitoshi had been the one pressuring him, the stress was building up. Misaki was still a perfectly normal adult man, which meant a few times a week, he had to take care of things himself. But lately, he’d been jerking off while remembering what he’d done with Hitoshi, and that, more than anything, he couldn’t stand. Even when he tried to imagine scenes with his favorite actresses, or even when Matsui lent him the raunchiest adult magazines, none of it could compare to the dull warmth of real skin, the sensation of being touched by someone.

Masturbating to the thought of being touched by another man, yeah, that wasn’t normal. But if nothing else worked, what choice did he have?

He didn’t want to remember, but he still did, and then he’d jerk off. Misaki was sick of himself, disgusted and helpless. Day by day, the feeling sank heavier in his chest.

He even started thinking maybe he should just go to a sex club and get it all out of his system. But even though his grandmother had given him a lump sum of money, spending it on something so stupid as tending to his own dick felt like a waste.

Maybe I should just get a girlfriend… The thought passed through his mind in a vague sort of way. If someone asked whether sex was the motivation, it would probably sound bad, but that’s exactly what it was, so there was no point lying about it.

“Wanna take a break?” Matsui offered, handing him a can of coffee.

“Thanks,” Misaki replied, accepting it. It was ice-cold and felt perfect against his parched throat.

“Hey, Joe’s getting out of the hospital the day after tomorrow, right? We should throw a little party. I’ll bring cake.”

“No need to go to all that trouble.”

Matsui gave him a grin.

“Don’t be shy! My girlfriend’s into baking lately, so she’s been making all kinds of stuff. Joe likes chocolate, doesn’t he… Huh?”

Matsui tilted his head, staring toward the entrance of the garage.

Oyassan was waddling toward them, belly bouncing like a frog’s, his face red and breathing heavy.

“What’s got him in such a rush?”

Without slowing down, Oyassan made a beeline for Misaki and stood in front of him.

“Th-There was a call from the hospital just now…”

Misaki tilted his head.

“Hospital?”

“They said Joe’s been injured and they need you to come right away.”

The canned coffee he had been holding slipped from his hand and hit the oil-stained, blackened concrete, spilling brown liquid at his feet as it clattered and rolled away.

Unable to immediately grasp the situation, Misaki stumbled over his words, replying, “Injured…?”

Misaki pedaled his bicycle toward the hospital in a frenzy. His mind had gone completely blank, and for some reason, his wife’s face kept flashing through it. The ear surgery had been a success, and his condition was stable. He was only waiting to be discharged. And yet, this sudden call, if it weren’t something serious, the doctors wouldn’t have summoned him like that.

A terrible premonition rose and fell in Misaki’s chest. What kind of injury was it? Where had he been hurt? The only thing he knew for certain was that it couldn’t be something as simple as a scrape.

He abandoned his bicycle in front of the entrance and burst into the hospital, running toward the ward. But when he reached the room, Jotaro’s hospital bed was empty. Hitoshi was sitting all alone on the chair beside it.

“Where’s Jotaro?”

Hitoshi turned around, his face a mess of tears and mucus. The sight made Misaki’s anxiety skyrocket. Hitoshi’s red, swollen eyes blinked, and he muttered in a trembling voice,

“The doctor took Jotaro away. He told me to wait here.”

Misaki ran out of the room and burst into the nurses’ station. Before he could even ask about Jotaro’s whereabouts, the familiar nurse, Hiiragi-san, spotted him and rushed over.

“J-Jotaro—”

“Jotaro-kun is with the ophthalmologist in the treatment room right now. They’re checking his eye.”

Misaki tried to stay calm, but panic made his words falter.

“I-Is it… life-threatening…?”

At those words, Hiiragi-san looked startled.

“You must have been so worried. I’m sorry. I was the one who called your workplace, but I should’ve explained more clearly. It’s not life-threatening, but it was a serious injury, we had to put several stitches in his head, so I thought it best to call you right away.”

Relief washed over Misaki when he heard it wasn’t life-threatening, but the moment he heard “stitches in his head,” his heart nearly stopped again.

“His head… was stitched?”

“Yes. He fell from the bed onto shattered glass, injuring both his head and his eye. The head wound isn’t deep, but they stitched it up for faster healing. The eye… well, there is some damage, so the ophthalmologist is checking it. They think it’ll be okay, but…”

“How could he get hurt like that… That idiot, was he jumping on the bed again or something…?”

Hiiragi-san lowered her eyes with a troubled expression.

“As for the cause… I only heard this secondhand from someone in the same room, but apparently, Jotaro-kun got into a fight with his cousin.”

“He fought with Hitoshi…?”

Hiiragi-san gave a small nod.

“It started as a verbal argument, but it escalated. Apparently, the cousin hit Jotaro-kun, and from the impact he fell off the bed. It’s a low bed, so normally a fall like that wouldn’t result in needing stitches, but he ended up hitting a flower vase on the neighboring table as he fell…”

While they were speaking, the door creaked open with a sharp sound. Both of them turned simultaneously.

The treatment room door opened, and Jotaro was carried out into the hallway in a doctor’s arms.

Misaki rushed over to him. The gauze that had once only covered his ear now wrapped over half his face and his left eye.

Staring at his terrible state, Misaki stood frozen in shock. The sight was so painful he couldn’t even speak.

"Are you the father?"

When he nodded, the doctor entrusted Jotaro to Misaki's arms.

"There was a cut about eight centimeters long, running from his forehead to his scalp. It wasn't deep, but I stitched it with ten stitches. His left eye has been slightly injured by shards of glass, but I don't believe his vision has been affected. Still, to be safe, we've disinfected it and applied medication, and I plan to keep it covered with gauze until tomorrow to monitor it. Also, since he was in pain, we administered a sedative."

Jotaro let his head fall limply against Misaki’s shoulder. That lifeless weight made Misaki feel as if his chest were being torn apart.

"Thank you... I’m sorry for the trouble."

Still holding Jotaro, Misaki returned to the room. Hitoshi was sitting in the chair by the bed, and when he noticed Misaki had brought Jotaro, he quickly jumped up. Rushing over, he peered worriedly at Jotaro’s face.

"Jotaro, Jotaro..."

When Hitoshi tried to cling to the boy now lying on the bed, Misaki grabbed him by the collar and shoved him backwards. Hitoshi fell hard on his backside, and Misaki glared fiercely at the man sitting stunned on the floor.

"Did you hurt Jotaro?"

From Hitoshi's reddened eyes, a tear suddenly spilled.

"Yes."

Misaki grabbed Hitoshi by the front of his shirt and struck him across the face with all his strength. With a loud smack, Hitoshi’s large body rolled across the floor.

"Do you even understand what you've done? If that cut had gone a little deeper, Jotaro might've gone blind!"

Hitoshi clutched his head and crouched down on the floor.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"

"If sorry was enough, we wouldn’t need the goddamn police! You know you're bigger than him, don’t you? Then why the hell would you rough up someone as small as Jotaro!?"

Hitoshi covered his face with both hands and started sobbing, sniffling and sniveling. That all-too-familiar tactic infuriated Misaki, and he smacked Hitoshi’s hands away.

"You think crying's going to fix everything!?"

"I'm sorry, I’m sorry..."

That was all Hitoshi kept repeating.

"If Jotaro had died, how the hell were you planning to take responsibility!?"

The anxiety Misaki had felt on the way from the shop to the hospital. The fear of death he couldn’t shake, no matter how irrational it seemed. Jotaro, right after Megumi... The thought was unbearable. He never wanted to be the one left behind again. Never wanted to feel that kind of loss again. And if Jotaro were gone, how could he ever figure out how to live his life from here on out? His only goal was to be a good father. That was all he had.

"If Jotaro dies, then I'll die too!"

Even Hitoshi’s earnest cry didn’t reach Misaki’s ears.

"You dying isn’t going to bring Jotaro back! And why the hell did you even come to our house in the first place? Ever since you showed up, nothing good has happened. Just more noise, and another mouth to feed sucking up money! That’s it, I’m done. Get out. Go somewhere, anywhere. Just don’t ever come back!"

Misaki hurled all the anger swelling inside him straight at Hitoshi. Hitoshi crouched down, wailing loudly.

"Shut up! Do you even know where we are? This is a hospital! Be quiet! Stop being a burden already!"

From an outsider's point of view, Misaki’s yelling probably seemed far more disruptive. But at that moment, he didn’t care about the stares around him or the volume of his voice.

"Get out!"

Hitoshi staggered to his feet and, still crying, left the room. Misaki sat down in a chair, leaned his elbow on Jotaro’s bed, and gently stroked the part of his face not covered in bandages. The boy slept as if dead. What reassured Misaki that he was alive was the faint sound of his breathing. Just looking at his pitiful appearance, wrapped in stark white bandages, made tears threaten to fall. If he could take the injuries in his place, he would. Rough, clumsy, but honest and kind. His one and only beloved son.
The only family he’d managed to build over seven long years. And now, it felt like that precious bond might vanish again, like beads scattered from a broken abacus, resetting everything to zero. Misaki buried his face beside his son. The tears came naturally. They were tears of relief, pushing back against the fear that had been slicing his chest to ribbons. Maybe because the extreme tension had finally lifted, Misaki dozed off like that for a while. What woke him was the tiny touch of fingers stroking his head.

“Dad’s here.”

Jotaro had turned his face slightly to the side and was looking at him.

“Yeah. I’m here.”

Misaki gently ran his fingertip along the unbandaged cheek.

“My left eye… it’s all dark.”

“That’s ’cause of the bandage. You got hurt, remember?”

Jotaro darted his right eye around, scanning the room.

“Where’s Hitoshi?”

“Forget about that idiot. Don’t worry about him.”

“But…”

“Just stay put and rest. More importantly, does anything hurt?”

“It doesn’t.”

“That so? You feel like eating anything? I’ll get you whatever you want today.”

Normally, when asked something like that, he’d start rattling off an endless list of cravings. But this time, he stayed quiet, his expression gloomy as he pulled the sheets up over his nose.

“Was Hitoshi worried about me?”

Misaki didn’t understand why Jotaro was still so hung up on Hitoshi, but he answered anyway.

“Yeah.”

“Even though you’re here too… I wonder what happened. Did he go home?”

“Don’t worry about him. I gave him a good scolding.”

Jotaro sat up suddenly, startled, then clutched his head in pain.

“Idiot, I told you not to get up so fast, ”

“Why’d you yell at Hitoshi?”

Still holding his head, his son glared at Misaki.

“’Cause he’s the one who got you hurt, ”

“I’m the one who was bad. I was the one who picked on Hitoshi.”

“No matter how much you teased him, the one who hurt you is still in the wrong.”

“He didn’t do it on purpose.”

Even after being hurt like this, Jotaro still tried to defend Hitoshi. Misaki couldn’t understand it.

“When we get home, tell Hitoshi I said sorry, okay?”

The one lying injured, looking like a criminal, was Jotaro himself. Misaki tilted his head in confusion.

“What were you two even fighting about?”

Jotaro fell completely silent. No matter how much Misaki pressed him, he wouldn’t say what had caused the fight.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

As soon as visiting hours ended, he left the hospital and stopped at a convenience store on the way home to buy two of the cheapest packs of alcohol he could find. From a distance, his apartment looked dark, he figured no one was home. But when he reached the entrance, there was a single pair of men’s leather shoes, the heels crushed down, Hitoshi’s.

Click. The lights flicked on, and a figure curled in the corner flinched at the brightness.

Ignoring him completely, Misaki dropped the two packs of alcohol onto the table with a heavy thud. He grabbed a cup, poured himself a drink, and downed it in one go.

“So, you were back.”

Hitoshi slowly raised his head. His right cheek was red and swollen. It took Misaki a moment to realize he was the one who’d done that.

“Well, of course you’d come back. It’s not like you’ve got anywhere else to go.”

His voice came out like barbed wire, each word prickling with hostility. Misaki kept drinking the cheap alcohol like it was water, even though it tasted awful. He’d hoped getting drunk might dull that weird, restless fog sitting in his chest, but no, there wasn’t even the faintest sign of it working. In a burst of irritation, he threw the empty alcohol pack at Hitoshi.

“This is your damn fault, you idiot!”

“I’m sorry... I’m sor, ”

Hitoshi’s voice was thin and frail. Misaki kicked the leg of the low table with a loud bang.

“Why the hell did you hurt Jotaro so badly?!”

Just like Jotaro, Hitoshi said nothing about the reason. His lips were sealed tight, pulled into a stubborn, straight line that seemed to say, I’m not telling you, no matter what. Misaki walked over and squatted down in front of him.

“I’m pissed. I’m really goddamn pissed at you. But if you had a good reason, I’ll hear it... and maybe I could forgive you.”

At the word forgive, something flickered in Hitoshi.

“...Really? You’d really forgive me?”

“Depends on what you’ve got to say.”

Hitoshi hesitated for only a second before speaking.

“I... I told Jotaro to give me you. I said I wanted to be your number one, so I asked him to give you to me. Then Jotaro said if he did what I told him, he’d give you to me. So I... I went and asked Hiiragi-san to marry him. I said, ‘Please be Jotaro’s wife.’”

Misaki was so stunned by the absurdity of it all that his mouth hung open.

“Hiiragi-san told me Jotaro was still too young to get married. Then Jotaro got mad... He said I broke the promise and wouldn’t give you to me. But I did keep the promise. I did. So we fought. But... I didn’t think he’d get that hurt. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry... I’m sor—”

It was just a childish fight. If Hitoshi had been a child, it probably would’ve ended as simple roughhousing. But with that solid build of his, things got dangerous fast. And the reason they fought...

Misaki gave him a light knock on the head with his fist.

“Listen up. Don’t you ever fight over something that stupid again. First of all, I’m not something you can give or take, got it? I don’t belong to either of you. So remember that.”

Something in his chest lightened, just a little. That frustrating haze that had been gnawing at him all day began to lift. Misaki went back to the table and tore the plastic off the second pack of booze. He wanted to drink himself into a stupor, pass out, and forget everything. It had been a hell of a day. Worrying, getting angry... He poured himself another cup, then knocked it back in one gulp.

“Come to think of it, Jotaro told me to say ‘sorry’ to you. Said he felt bad.”

“Jotaro did?”

“Yeah. Guess even he figured he’d gone too far.”

As Misaki kept drinking, he could feel Hitoshi getting closer with each cup. At first, he thought it was just his imagination. But when he glanced down, Hitoshi was really right there, seated at his feet. His swollen cheek and tear-swollen eyes looked up at him. Then Hitoshi pressed his face firmly against Misaki’s thigh.

"I'm sorry."

"Enough. Don't ever do something like that again."

"If you hated me, I'd die."

His knees were clutched tightly, trembling against the back of Misaki’s thighs.

"If you're a good boy, I won't hate you."

Misaki gently stroked the trembling head.

"I'm sorry I hit you earlier today. Your face must’ve hurt."

"I love you, Onii-chan."

Hitoshi muttered softly. It was just a childish remark, and yet it stirred something in his chest. Something in him was wrong.

"I love you. If you hated me, I'd die."

To say something like die, when he didn’t even really understand what that meant. To say I love you over and over again, so casually and shamelessly.

"Look up."

Slowly, Hitoshi raised his face.

"Do you even understand what it means to love someone so much you’d die for them? You always say that kind of thing so easily..."

Hitoshi leaned up, and just as his face drew close, their lips touched. The wet, warm sensation made Misaki's eyes widen instinctively.

"Love you. I love you."

Words slipping over his lips.

"I love you, Onii-chan. If anyone's mean to you, I'll punish them. I'll protect you."

How could someone so young possibly protect him? Their roles were completely reversed, and Hitoshi didn’t even realize it. It was just feelings, only feelings. Misaki thought about telling him, You're just a helpless brat, but in the few seconds their eyes locked, the words vanished. One kiss after another. Arms hugging him tightly. Sloppy kisses, like a dog barreling forward, driven only by feeling. And despite how clumsy it was, Misaki couldn’t reject it, because even in that awkward kiss, he felt it.

Their tongues tangled. A throb bloomed in his groin. No. This is wrong, the alarm rang somewhere in his mind, but that was all. Misaki didn’t stop it. The blurred boundary line, dulled by alcohol, the aggravating affection that made him want to lash out and cling at the same time, and a loneliness he could never shake, together, they tore down the last stronghold of his morals.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

In the center of the room, bright like midday, Misaki stared blankly up at the fluorescent light fixture. Hitoshi had his face buried in Misaki’s bare chest for a while now. With wet, obscene sounds like a cat drinking water, he clung desperately to him. Misaki held the boy’s head and let his body respond as it wished. It tickled. But when he bit down, it hurt. When he sucked gently, it felt good and made Misaki’s hips give out.

They kissed, long, long kisses. While kissing, Hitoshi toyed with his groin, making Misaki climax again and again. Naked, tangled together, they kissed as if trying to consume each other. They were brothers. He knew it was wrong. And still, the almost-sex felt so good it could’ve turned them into sludge. His skin, flushed from alcohol, didn’t feel the cold. Being pressed together naked felt so good, he nearly drifted off.

The reason he’d been irritable and dazed lately, it was probably because he’d wanted this with Hitoshi. He’d wanted to feel good. Just for that, to do something like this with a boy so emotionally immature, it made him curse himself as worse than a dog. And still, he surrendered easily before Hitoshi’s right hand wrapped around his groin.

From behind, Hitoshi leaned over Misaki as he writhed with pleasure, still holding his penis, and whispered into his ear:

“Onii-chan, let’s make a baby.”

“A baby…? You…?”

“Let’s make a bunch. I love you, Onii-chan. I love you so much we can make lots. Then we can all play together.”

Still lying face down, Misaki twisted just his upper body and pulled Hitoshi’s lips to his own.

“You don’t even know how. Don’t act all grown-up.”

“I do know.”

Hitoshi’s voice was full of unwavering confidence.

“You told me, remember? That if you put your thing in the hole between the legs, a baby gets made.”

Hitoshi’s erect penis pressed lightly against Misaki’s tight entrance as he lay face down.

“W-Wait, no. That’s not the right place.”

He was being held from behind and could hardly resist. Hitoshi’s knee was wedged between his legs, making it impossible to close them.

“It’s here. I looked and looked, but this is the only place.”

“Even if we do it, two guys can’t make a baby!”

"Why not?" Hitoshi whispered in his ear.

"I love you so much, Onii-chan. I love you, but why can't we do it? If we love each other so much and I put it in, we can make a baby," Hitoshi said.

Misaki tried to wriggle free, but Hitoshi's penis, still attached to his entrance, wouldn't budge.

"Can I put it in? Please, can I?" Hitoshi asked, his body pressed against Misaki's back, already in position.

"No! Absolutely not!" Misaki replied.

"But I want a kid," Hitoshi said, his penis gently pressing against Misaki's butt. Misaki's buttocks felt itchy, and he involuntarily moved his hips.

"Let me put it in, Onii-chan, please," Hitoshi begged.

"I told you no!... Ah!" Misaki exclaimed as he felt a strange sensation in his buttocks. Hitoshi had moved forward, and the tip of his penis had gotten stuck.

"It's in a little bit," Hitoshi said.

Before Misaki could protest further, Hitoshi pushed in, causing a dull, throbbing pain that Misaki had never experienced before. He writhed in agony, momentarily considering pulling away, but Hitoshi noticed and continued to push deeper.

"No, no... it hurts! It hurts!" Misaki cried out.

He felt like his anus was about to tear.

" Onii-chan, I hurt too," Hitoshi's voice came from behind, tears evident.

"Then get out of me!" Misaki demanded.

"But we need to make a baby, so I'll endure it. You have to endure it too, Onii-chan," Hitoshi said.

"This... this is impossible... We can't make a kid like this..." Misaki protested.

"Yes, we can," Hitoshi whispered in Misaki's ear.

"Because we have so much love, we can make a baby. I'm sure we can make a baby, Onii-chan and me. Just wait until I come, okay?" Hitoshi said.

Misaki thought to himself, "That's not true. Complete nonsense."

But with Hitoshi whispering near his ear, while he was in such a completely messed-up state, Misaki was starting to lose sight of what was right. He couldn’t think straight.

Before he knew it, he imagined himself pregnant. Something that couldn’t possibly happen, but the vivid, real sensation at his back only spurred his imagination further.

“Ah… yeah.”

A sweet voice fell against his ear.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore. It’s snug… tight and feels good.”

“Hurry up already… I’m the one in pain.”

“Okay, just a little more. Almost there.”

Misaki suddenly grabbed Hitoshi’s hand and guided it to his own crotch.

“Touch me. If you do, the pain will ease up.”

Hitoshi, doing exactly as told, began fumbling with Misaki’s crotch.

Before long, the pleasure in front grew strong enough to dull the pain in his back. Misaki writhed, unable to endure it anymore.

At that same moment, Hitoshi’s hips began to tremble.

Misaki’s rear had gone numb, he couldn’t feel clearly, but Hitoshi’s body suddenly relaxed, the tension gone. He must have come inside.

Misaki felt the sensation of Hitoshi’s penis slipping out with a wet slide, and the unpleasant feeling made him twist away.

“Onii-chan…”

Hitoshi draped himself over him and hugged him. Then, with his finger, gently pressed between Misaki’s still-numb buttocks.

“Grow big and strong, okay?”

This is completely insane, Misaki thought, and yet he still wrapped his arms around the body clinging to him.

It was only after he got used to the weight of the boy lying on top of him that Misaki began to doze off.

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