The Eyes of a Child: Chapter 06

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In the blue darkness, a man’s face was visible, lips parted slightly, breathing slow and content. Misaki eased himself out from under the futon, every movement tugging at the dull ache in his hips.

The sky outside was just beginning to pale; cars passed the street only occasionally. They had gone to sleep late, but something had roused him early,  a faint, uncomfortable itch in places he didn’t want to think about. And because he knew exactly why, the air between them felt heavy.

How did it end up like this?

The answer came too easily. Because Hitoshi hadn’t been content to be alone. Because he’d invited Hitoshi in. Because he’d hurt Jotaro. Because of that reckless talk about wanting a child.

But if Misaki had truly wanted it to stop, he could have. A shove, a sharp word, and it would have been over. Instead, he had let it happen. Let the kisses linger, let the touches stay. He wanted those things too, the closeness, the rush of heat. Just… not this far. Not with another man. Not with his own brother.

Misaki pushed himself to his feet, unsteady, and slipped into the bathroom. Cool water rushed over him as he washed away the last traces of the night, chasing a relief that stayed just out of reach. The feeling clung to him anyway, prickling under his skin, until shame settled in heavy. He sank down onto the cold tile floor, drawing his knees close, unable to shake the thought that he had let something irreversible take root.

"Onii-chan "

The door swung open, and Hitoshi, completely naked, walked in. Misaki was taken aback. Hitoshi's hands reached out straight to him, and he was enveloped in a hug.

"Onii-chan, I thought you were gone. I'm so glad you're here," Hitoshi said.

Misaki felt embarrassed and pushed Hitoshi away. However, Hitoshi clung to him from behind, gently stroking his head and back. Hitoshi's fingers touched his lips, and he began to lick Misaki's neck and back. When Hitoshi pinched both of Misaki's nipples from behind, Misaki couldn't help but jump.

"Ah...n,"

A sugary sweet voice, one that didn't sound like his own, echoed through the bathroom. Misaki tried to wriggle free from Hitoshi's grasp, but he was quickly pulled back and held tight. Despite his resistance, Hitoshi's warm chest and large pecs weakened Misaki's will. A haze of taboo clouded his mind, a reality that they were brothers, two males. But if Hitoshi didn't recall the past, no one would know. If they kept it a secret, no one would be hurt. The rough sensation of Hitoshi's short stubble as he nuzzled Misaki's cheek left a lasting impression. Misaki wrapped his arm around Hitoshi's neck, embracing him like a child.

"Hitoshi, what do you think of me?" Misaki asked.

"I love you," Hitoshi replied.

Those words were enough to forgive him. Misaki held Hitoshi close, still feeling guilty. His desire for Hitoshi outweighed his moral objections and loneliness. He gave in, letting Hitoshi's childlike charm win him over, and kissed him. In the brief moment between kisses, Hitoshi suddenly spoke up.

"How long until we can have a kid?"

◇:-:◆:-:◇

Due to the unexpected injury, Jotaro was discharged from the hospital safely in mid-September, about two weeks later than planned. Matsui brought over a large chocolate cake he said his girlfriend made, calling it a get-well celebration. Oyassan gave Jotaro a pencil case and notebook printed with his favorite anime characters, saying, “School’s starting late for you, huh?” With everyone giving him presents, Jotaro was in a great mood. Though a painful-looking scar remained on his head, when Oyassan told him, “Well, you’re a boy, so that’s a badge of honor,” he grinned.

To make sure he didn’t get too tired, everyone went home early. When Jotaro tried to play video games again, Misaki scolded him and shoved him into bed.

“You’re going back to school tomorrow, right? No staying up late.”

Then Misaki tackled the pile of dishes, twice as many as usual, and Hitoshi naturally helped beside him. Misaki had once casually mentioned that helping out made you a good kid, and ever since then, Hitoshi had enthusiastically lent a hand. Misaki welcomed that effort to be “a good kid.” Adults probably wouldn’t try that hard.

“Hey, Hitoshi, you remember what we promised yesterday, right?”

Worried, Misaki checked with him.

“Promise?”

Hitoshi tilted his head, then smiled sweetly at Misaki.

“You said that once Jotaro came back, we wouldn’t touch our pee-pees or make babies where he could see.”

Hitoshi said it loud and clear, and Misaki turned bright red and smacked him on the head.

“Don’t say that stuff out loud!”

“Ow, that hurt…”

Hitoshi looked up at Misaki with reproachful eyes.

Ever since the day Jotaro hurt his head, Misaki and Hitoshi had been having sex nearly every day. The discomfort Hitoshi used to feel when something was pushed into him had only lasted at the beginning, now, just being touched there would make him hard. With the increasing frequency, his sense of taboo and morality had grown numb. Until now, they had been sleeping in the same bed and openly having sex, legs spread wide, but with Jotaro back, that wouldn’t be possible anymore.

So Misaki had sternly warned Hitoshi the day before: “When Jotaro’s in the same room, you can’t be naked, touch your pee-pee, or do baby-making stuff.” When Hitoshi asked “Why?”, Misaki explained it was something children shouldn’t see. “You’ve never seen your mom and dad sleeping naked together, right?” That convinced Hitoshi.

“The cake was yummy, huh?”

Despite Misaki’s worries that Hitoshi might cling to him even in front of Jotaro, Hitoshi said something like that instead. He really was a kid, and Misaki found it a little funny.

“Make sure you brush your teeth. Or you’ll get cavities.”

“Okay!”

“All right, this is enough, go take your bath.”

“Okay…”

Though he answered, Hitoshi didn’t move from the corner of the kitchen. Misaki finished the dishes, wiped his hands with a towel, and tilted his head.

“If you’re not going in, then I’ll go in first.”

“Let’s go in together.”

Hearing that made Misaki’s heart skip a beat.

“It’ll be cramped inside.”

“I want to kiss you. If it’s there, Jotaro won’t be able to see.”

Hitoshi was straightforward. Misaki glanced toward the back of the room. Jotaro was still lying quietly in the futon.

“We can go in together, but just for today… it’s only kissing.”

Hitoshi replied with a simple “Okay,” but the one who knew best that “only kissing” wouldn’t end with just that… was Misaki himself.

The moment they undressed in the changing room and faced each other naked in the bath, just seeing Hitoshi’s lower half made Misaki’s body heat up.

And sure enough, when they kissed, he got hard. How pathetic.

“Can I touch you?” Hitoshi asked.

In protest at the thought of him ending it without touching, Misaki bit his earlobe.

If it was just kissing, he could keep quiet. But when Hitoshi’s hand wandered lower, it became impossible to endure; every time a wave of pleasure came, Misaki bit down on Hitoshi’s lips to keep from making a sound.

“Nn… fuh…”

The bathroom echoed with voices. But in this one-room house, if they wanted to be alone, this was the only place they could.

Misaki straddled Hitoshi, facing him on the bath stool, their arms wrapped around each other. Below, they had long since become one.

Hitoshi slipped a hand under Misaki’s arm and teased his nipple with a thumb. Misaki trembled minutely, letting a faint sigh escape into Hitoshi’s lips. His hips quivered as he panted.

After they climaxed together, Hitoshi withdrew, and Misaki slumped against his broad chest. Even though they hadn’t washed yet, that alone had left him exhausted.

It wasn’t their first time in the bath. Hitoshi, experienced, knew Misaki wouldn’t want to move, so he washed Misaki’s hair and body without being asked. Misaki let him. Once Hitoshi had cleaned him thoroughly, they shared another long kiss before leaving the bath.

As expected, Hitoshi slid into the futon beside Misaki.

“Hitoshi, aren’t you going to sleep over there?”

Misaki’s heart skipped at the voice of Jotaro, who he thought was asleep.

“No, I’m sleeping with my Onii-chan,” Hitoshi said firmly.

“I see.”

“Jotaro, you should sleep with us too.”

“Okay.”

In no time, Jotaro joined them, and the already cramped bedding became packed full. It was uncomfortably tight, and Misaki, pushed to the edge, lost half his cover. But the warmth of the body holding him from behind made him close his eyes. Something about it felt good, and his heart grew calm.

In his mind, Misaki turned over the word “family,” even if it didn’t fit the usual definition.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

The lingering summer heat was harsh, but once October arrived, the evenings finally began to cool down. The wind brushing past his cheeks as he rode his mamachari felt just a little colder. That day, when Misaki came home from work, Hitoshi and Jotaro were happily chatting away together. Hitoshi had already finished preparing dinner, and when Misaki called out, “Let’s eat already,” Hitoshi scrambled to set the table.

During the meal, Misaki and Jotaro kept exchanging glances, letting a suspicious atmosphere settle between them. Misaki braced himself, thinking, These two are definitely up to something again, determined not to be surprised no matter what they tried this time.

“Misaki.”

He was startled to hear his name. It was Hitoshi’s voice, but instead of his usual childish “Onii-chan,” he used Misaki’s name, in a low voice, like an adult man. For a second, Misaki thought maybe his memories had returned.

“Raise Jotaro’s allowance.”

Allowance… allowance… Allowance?

Misaki widened his eyes. Hitoshi and Jotaro looked at each other and burst into laughter. Finally, Misaki realized they had been teasing him.

“You little punks, what the hell?”

“Playing adults,” they said together in unison.

“Just now, this weird guy came by,” Jotaro explained. “He was trying to sell us a futon. I told him our dad wasn’t home, but he kept banging on the door, so I had Hitoshi ‘play adult.’”

“What did you make him say?”

“‘Get lost, jackass. Come back the day before yesterday.’”

Jotaro and Hitoshi cracked up again. It might’ve been absurd for a grown man to be “playing adult,” but the two boys had become surprisingly obsessed with their new game. Eventually, even Misaki got used to this “play adult” thing, and stopped being surprised when Hitoshi sometimes spoke in grown-up phrases.

On Sunday, Jotaro went out to play at a friend’s house from the morning and said he’d be eating lunch there too, so he was away for most of the day. After Jotaro left, Misaki and Hitoshi had sex. Though it was still bright outside, they drew the curtains tightly shut and tangled together on the futon in the dim room.

It was their first time having sex on the tatami since Jotaro had been discharged from the hospital, and Misaki was more aroused than usual at being able to use a proper position again. The dusky room filled with soft gasps and the pungent scent of sweat and arousal.

At one point, they ran out of condoms. Misaki stood on unsteady legs and opened the drawer atop the tansu chest. Feeling too sluggish to remain standing, he slumped down and tore through the plastic wrap around the box. That’s when Hitoshi came up behind him, resting his chin on Misaki’s shoulder and murmuring, “Hey.”

“Why do you always wear those?”

“I told you before, didn’t I? Germs can get in through the tip of your dick. Remember when that happened and it got all sore? I had to take you to the hospital.”

“But if I wear that, we can’t make a baby.”

“That white stuff, ” Misaki paused. “You’re not supposed to put it in over and over. Once is enough. We already did it a few times before, remember? That’s enough.”

“But if I don’t put it in, we can’t make a baby.”

Hitoshi’s large hand touched Misaki’s lower belly, and the way his palm slowly moved around made Misaki’s penis twitch slightly.

“It takes time to make a baby,” Misaki said.

“Then if we can’t make one, I don’t need to put it in.”

That made Misaki snap. He smacked Hitoshi hard on the head with his fist.

“You’re the one who’s always begging for it! If you don’t want it, don’t ask for it.”

“But it feels good inside you.”

The words came with an apologetic kiss to the cheek. A kiss to the eyelid. As Hitoshi kept pressing soft kisses to his face, Misaki’s anger gradually cooled. And then he got an idea.

“Wanna play your favorite game? Let’s play ‘pretending to be grown-ups.’”

“We’re gonna play grown-ups?”

Hitoshi tilted his head, and Misaki smiled as he cupped Hitoshi’s face in both hands.

“Try calling me Misaki.”

Hitoshi cleared his throat theatrically and then whispered Misaki into Misaki’s ear. The low, sultry voice sent a chill down his spine.

“Now say ‘I love you.’”

“I love you.”

Hitoshi’s adult voice was just as nice as his childlike one. Misaki made him say it over and over, until eventually Hitoshi forgot they were playing and his voice slipped back to his usual boyish tone.

“I love you, Onii-chan.”

The adult voice aroused him; the child’s voice reassured him. After a long, deep kiss, Misaki rolled a condom onto Hitoshi’s penis with practiced ease.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

Lately, shopping and preparing dinner had become Hitoshi’s job. But on Sunday, with nothing to do and too much free time on his hands, Misaki found himself craving nikujaga and decided to cook for the first time in a while.

Outside, the wind was fierce, and the small kitchen window rattled non-stop. As November neared its end, the cold had grown almost shockingly sharp. More and more often, Misaki found himself waking up clinging to Hitoshi in the mornings for warmth.

The rice was finished cooking, and with just the seasoning left to do and a quick side of pickled vegetables to prepare, Misaki opened the cupboard beneath the sink, only to click his tongue in frustration.

“Damn it…”

The soy sauce was empty.

He turned to see Hitoshi and Jotaro sitting side by side playing video games. When Misaki called out Hitoshi’s name, he immediately turned around and came over like a loyal watchdog.

“Sorry, but can you run an errand?”

Misaki pulled a thousand-yen bill from his wallet and pressed it into Hitoshi’s hand.

“Buy a bottle of soy sauce. Light soy sauce, okay?”

“Okay!”

“I’m almost done cooking, so don’t go wandering around on your way back. And it’s getting dark, watch out for cars.”

Without a single complaint, Hitoshi chirped, “I’m off!” and dashed toward the door. Misaki called him back just in time to throw his own commuting down jacket over Hitoshi’s shoulders. It wasn’t that Hitoshi couldn’t wear it, but the size was definitely too small for him.

“It’s cold out there. It’s small, but better than nothing. I’ll get you a proper coat next time.”

Hitoshi stared at Misaki with an oddly serious look in his eyes.

“What’s with that face?”

“My chest just hurt… a lot. And now I really want to kiss you.”

Misaki laughed and gave Hitoshi a soft peck on the lips.

“There’s your errand-boy reward.”

Beaming from ear to ear, Hitoshi headed out for the store.

Only afterward did Misaki realize his cheeks were strangely flushed. He pressed a hand to his warm face and returned to the kitchen to turn off the heat under the nikujaga. The nearest shop was less than a five-minute walk away. As he prepared the side dish, he waited for Hitoshi to come back.

He figured Hitoshi would return in fifteen minutes at most. But no cheerful “I’m home” came, no matter how long he waited. By the thirty-minute mark, he was getting irritated. After an hour had passed, irritation gave way to worry that gnawed at him relentlessly.

He opened the window over and over again, but all he could see was darkness and hear the wind howling like a living thing.

That idiot, he’s so slow, maybe he got into an accident somewhere?

The thought wasn’t based on anything concrete, but once the idea entered his head, he couldn’t sit still. He told Jotaro, Lock the door tight from the inside, and ran out the front door.

Just past the road in front of the apartment, as he rounded the corner, he saw someone standing under a streetlight, leaning against a wall. A familiar down jacket.

Misaki rushed over in a panic. The figure had his head down, face hidden, but there was no mistaking it, it was Hitoshi.

“What the hell are you doing out here? I told you to come straight home.”

Hitoshi kept his head down and shook it silently.

“Why didn’t you come back? Did you lose the money I gave you? Or did you spend the change on snacks or something?”

There was the rustle of plastic, and Misaki finally noticed the bag Hitoshi was holding in his right hand.

“You actually bought the soy sauce.”

Misaki leaned in and peered into the bag, almost snatching it. The bottle, which should have been brand new, was streaked with dirt. Frowning, Misaki looked more closely. The down jacket he’d lent Hitoshi was also dirtied with soil and had several tears in the fabric.

He roughly grabbed Hitoshi’s chin and forced his face upward.

A short “Ow…” escaped Hitoshi’s lips as his face came into view, scraped and bruised. A large graze spread across the bridge of his nose and his right cheek, thin trails of blood seeping through the skin.

“What the hell happened to you?!”

“…I got hit by a bicycle. Fell down.”

The low voice sounded more like a sigh than an answer. Misaki pressed a hand to his forehead and let out a heavy breath.

“God, you’re such a klutz. I told you to be careful, didn’t I? And come on, why didn’t you come home? You got a little banged up and just decided to stand around out here?”

Hitoshi didn’t say anything. The silence was maddening, and Misaki grabbed his hand and tugged.

“Come on, walk.”

Even with Misaki pulling, Hitoshi’s steps were heavy and reluctant.

“Your coat got ripped.”

Hitoshi muttered suddenly, and Misaki stopped in his tracks.

“I fell and ripped your coat. It was the only one you had.”

His voice stayed low. Hitoshi knew he only had that one jacket. That’s why he didn’t come home, he felt bad about ruining it. That thought, that tiny gesture of guilt, felt so painfully earnest that Misaki suddenly wanted to hug him right there in the middle of the street.

“You idiot. Don’t worry about something like that.”

He gently cupped Hitoshi’s cheek with his palm.

“Is it just your face that’s scraped? You hurt anywhere else?”

Hitoshi gave a small nod.

“Good. I’m glad you’re not hurt worse. I’ll put medicine on it when we get back.”

Now that he understood why Hitoshi hadn’t come home, Misaki stopped worrying about how sluggishly he was walking. He simply held his hand and walked with him.

“I’m starving. Jotaro’s probably sitting around hungry, waiting for us too.”

At the front door, Misaki looked both ways to make sure no one was around, then gave Hitoshi a quick kiss. Hitoshi’s eyes went wide in surprise.

“Hey… wanna try making a baby later?”

Misaki had hoped the suggestion would cheer Hitoshi up after his rough evening, but the reaction wasn’t what he’d expected. Hitoshi kept that same surprised expression, then lowered his head, something troubled flickering across his face. Misaki had never seen him look like that, so much older, so uncharacteristically adult. Usually, whenever Misaki said Wanna do it?, Hitoshi would immediately answer Yeah! with enthusiasm.

Now, that lack of response made Misaki feel ridiculous for even bringing it up.

“It’s not like we have to or anything…”

He muttered and raised a hand to knock on the door, but before he could, arms wrapped tightly around him from behind.

“What the hell—?”

His breath caught as he was yanked back with force. A fierce kiss followed. Not the usual puppy-like insistence Hitoshi had, it felt more like he was being devoured. His mouth was ravaged, the kiss all hunger and no restraint. Misaki began to feel something was wrong.

This wasn’t Hitoshi.

Not like this.

Summoning all his strength, Misaki shoved the larger body away. Hitoshi stumbled and slammed into the metal railing across the hallway, the crash echoing loud in the night.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!”

His voice trembled, though he wasn’t even scared, at least not of Hitoshi.

“…Forgive me.”

Hitoshi left behind only these few short words, then turned his back on Misaki. The heavy sound of his footsteps echoed down the metal stairs. Wearing the torn down jacket, he turned the corner and disappeared.

Left behind at Misaki’s feet was the soy sauce container, having fallen out of the plastic bag.

“What the hell is going on?”

Misaki shouted, then wiped his damp lips hard with the back of his fist.

When he returned to the apartment, Jotaro asked, “Where did Hitoshi go?” But Misaki ignored him and, for now, just made sure the boy had dinner. By the time the dishes were cleared, it was ten at night. After putting Jotaro to bed, Misaki grabbed his keys and went out, dressed lightly in just a sweatshirt and jeans.

He wandered the neighborhood, stopping by their usual stores and the local park. Looking for a child is a parent’s job… Hitoshi wasn’t his kid, not by blood, not legally, but Misaki used that sense of responsibility as a shield as he searched.

Because if he didn’t go looking, Hitoshi probably wouldn’t feel like he could come back.

Again and again, Misaki called Hitoshi’s name into the darkness. But not once did he hear a reply.

By the time his watch read 2 a.m., Misaki gave up and returned to the apartment. He’d hoped, just maybe, that Hitoshi would be there already. But the apartment was empty. No sign of him.

His body was frozen from wandering outside underdressed, so he tried warming up in the bath. But the thought gnawed at him: What if Hitoshi comes back while I’m in here? What if he rings the doorbell and I don’t hear it?

The thought made him too anxious to stay, and he leapt out of the tub.

Screw it. Let him do whatever he wants.

With a mixture of resignation and frustration, Misaki crawled into bed, but he couldn’t sleep. Not even a little. Every time the wind rattled the windows, every small creak at the door made him jump out from under the covers and rush to the front entrance. But each time, only cold air met him, stealing more of his body heat.

In the end, Misaki spent the entire night wide awake, waiting for Hitoshi to return. But the words I’m home never came.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

The next day, Misaki left for the repair shop at his usual time. He was worried about Hitoshi, but after having already caused trouble by taking time off repeatedly for Jotaro’s sake, he couldn’t bring himself to ask for another break just to go searching for Hitoshi. Still, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. Even during his lunch break, he went back to the apartment to check, but there was no sign Hitoshi had returned.

He tried consulting Matsui, but all he got in response was a half-hearted “Huh...” Matsui didn’t seem particularly concerned. In fact, he said with maddening nonchalance, “Jin will probably be fine, right?”

“If it were Joe, then yeah, I’d be worried. But Jin looks like an adult, so he’s probably okay.”

“But his mind is six years old. Six!” Misaki emphasized the point. Even if Hitoshi had learned about sex and started speaking in a more mature tone, he still struggled with arithmetic once the digits got bigger, and couldn’t read more complicated kanji.

“Yeah, but he looks like an adult, right?”

With that, Misaki couldn’t argue. Which only made him more frustrated.

He couldn’t concentrate at work that afternoon. He asked Matsui if he could step out and went home again, but Hitoshi still hadn’t come back. The sky was overcast, the air biting. Hitoshi had left wearing Misaki’s down jacket, but what if he’d ended up with nowhere to go, just wandering around, shivering in the cold?

Shoulders sagging, Misaki returned to the shop. Matsui asked, “Any luck?”

“No. He’s not back. I’m going to file a missing persons report on the way home.”

Matsui folded his arms. “You know, I’ve been thinking about what you said. Jin went out to do that errand and got hit by a bike, right? You said he scraped his face up. What if he hit his head too, and that somehow brought back his memory? Memory loss is unpredictable, right? You never know when it’ll come back.”

“That’s ridiculous…”

But the moment Matsui said it, memories flooded back, how strange Hitoshi had acted after that errand. His voice, normally so bright and high-pitched, had sounded oddly low. He’d even said, “Forgive me”, Misaki had never heard that from him before. And the way he’d kissed him, it had been nothing like before. Misaki wanted to dismiss it as absurd. Surely someone’s memory wouldn’t just return after a fall like that. And yet, everything he recalled only seemed to support the idea. His fingertips turned cold.

What would it mean if Hitoshi really had regained his old memories? What would happen to him then?

“If his memory’s back, then that’s great news, right?” Matsui said. “You wouldn’t have to teach him stuff anymore or worry about his future. Why not try contacting the house or the company he used to be at?”

“Yeah… maybe.”

But as far as Misaki knew, Hitoshi’s house had been sold off to pay their grandfather’s debts, and that’s why he’d lost his job too. If that was the case, where else did he have to go besides here?

“Oh, but hey,” Matsui added. “When someone gets their memory back, do they usually forget everything from the time they lost it? You know, like in those mangas.”

He had voiced every one of Misaki’s fears, plain as day. That shocked expression during the kiss, and then how fiercely Hitoshi had kissed him back. Had his memory already returned then? Or not? And where had he gone?

“Still, no way to tell, huh. Where’d Jin even disappear to?” Matsui muttered.

That was exactly what Misaki most wanted to know.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

Four days had passed since Hitoshi disappeared. Each evening after returning from the repair shop, Misaki would feed Jotaro, and then spend the rest of the night walking the streets in search of Hitoshi. The colder the night air became, the more vividly he imagined Hitoshi shivering somewhere outside, and his worry deepened. But no matter where he looked, no matter how hard he searched, Hitoshi was nowhere to be found.

Late at night, when Misaki came home with slumped shoulders, Jotaro would ask, “Was Hitoshi there?” Misaki would simply shake his head in response. He didn’t want to think about it, but the idea Matsui had mentioned, that Hitoshi might have regained his memory, was steadily taking root in his mind.

Matsui, too, had asked, “You found Jin yet?” He seemed genuinely concerned and said he’d been reaching out to people he knew, but no one had any leads. Matsui kept saying, “He probably got his memory back and went back to his old home.” But Misaki would argue, “He got fired from the company, and he didn’t have a place to live. He had nowhere else to go.” To which Matsui replied, “Then maybe he’s with his girlfriend.” At that, everything went black in front of Misaki’s eyes.

He had never even considered the possibility that Hitoshi might have a girlfriend.

If Hitoshi’s memory had returned and he’d gone back to some former girlfriend, then there was no need for Misaki to be out there searching. Worrying about him would just be meddling. Still, even if Hitoshi had regained his memory, how much of it had come back? Would he still remember the time he spent as a child, living with Misaki? Or had he forgotten it all? And if he did remember being a child, then wouldn’t those memories just become inconvenient once he was an adult again?

The more Misaki thought about it, the deeper his despair became.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

On the fifth day of Hitoshi’s disappearance, Friday, Misaki left work early in the afternoon to take Jotaro to his regular medical check-up. After it was over, without even pausing to rest, he found himself standing in front of EWI Corporation.

It wasn’t just on a whim, he had transferred trains to get here. That much was clear.

The last time he’d stormed in with Hitoshi, he hadn’t cared about appearances or consequences. But now, standing outside this office where men and women in sharp suits came and went, his grease-stained work overalls made him feel hopelessly out of place.

If Hitoshi’s memory had returned, he might be here. But he’d been fired, maybe he hadn’t come back. Or maybe his memory hadn’t come back at all, and he was still wandering the city aimlessly. If Misaki had no idea where Hitoshi was, then all he could do was eliminate the possibilities, one by one.

Clenching his lips, Misaki took Jotaro’s hand and headed for the building. He kept his eyes down, avoiding the stares around him, and walked straight to the reception desk.

“Excuse me, is there someone here by the name of Hitoshi Kashiwabara?”

Even though he forced a polite smile, the receptionist’s gaze felt cold.

“I'm sorry, but may I ask what your business is with him?”

“Ah… I’m a relative. That’s why…”

The woman tapped something on her keyboard, then tilted her head.

“I’m sorry, but we don’t have anyone by that name working here.”

The name triggered something in his memory.

“Oh, maybe he’s under the name Hitoshi Enomoto, actually.”

“Are you here to see the president?”

Misaki froze.

When he’d barged in here about half a year ago, the employee who dealt with him had said Hitoshi had been fired. But now… they were calling him president?

“I’ll check with his secretary. May I ask your name first?”

“Uh… I’m Misaki Kashiwabara.”

The woman spoke into the phone, and then turned to him with a warm smile.

“The president will see you. This way, please.”

“Ah, okay. Hey, Jotaro, sit on that chair and wait here, okay?”

Leaving Jotaro waiting in the lobby, Misaki followed the woman down the corridor. The room he was shown into had the air of a reception room, sunlit, with paintings in soft tones adorning the walls. Misaki sat down on a plush chair, not refusing when invited to do so.

Hitoshi was here.

Misaki laced his fingers together, restless, his nerves showing in the agitated way he rubbed the tips of his shoes against one another. There were countless things he wanted to ask. Why had Hitoshi disappeared so suddenly? If his memory had returned, why hadn’t he said a single word to him?

After about five minutes of waiting, there was a soft click at the door. Misaki stilled his racing heart and turned his eyes toward the sound.

And when he saw the man who entered, his eyes widened.

This wasn’t the child who always wore slightly-too-small hand-me-down clothes, who used to beam at him with an open smile saying, “Onii-chan, I love you.” His messy hair was now neatly slicked back, and behind the silver-rimmed glasses, his eyes held an intelligent, almost distant gleam, utterly devoid of boyishness. A crisp white shirt, a neatly knotted tie, a tailored blue-gray suit, there was nothing left of the child in him now.

Hitoshi stood before Misaki and bowed his head slowly.

“I was very rude the other day. I apologize.”

There was a strange formality in his voice, too polite, too reserved, and Misaki couldn’t figure out how to respond to this grown-up version of Hitoshi. He lowered his gaze.

“And your reason for coming today?”

Misaki hadn’t expected to be asked so directly, and the question threw him off.

“Well… you know, we were together all that time, and then you suddenly disappeared. I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

He realized too late that his voice sounded oddly high-pitched. Faced with the composed adult Hitoshi, Misaki was undeniably nervous.

“I’m very sorry,” Hitoshi said again.

Seeing him now, there was no doubt, his memory had returned. And if that was the case, there was nothing to be done. But that wasn’t what Misaki wanted to know.

If Hitoshi wasn’t bringing it up, maybe it meant he didn’t want to talk about it.

But no matter how much Hitoshi might want to forget… if Misaki didn’t hear it from him, he couldn’t move on.

“Hey…” he began.

He’d thought it would be easy to ask, but when it mattered most, the words caught in his throat. He gathered himself, took a breath, and asked again.

“Do you remember… when you lost your memory, and the three of us, me, you, and Jotaro, lived together?”

There was a pause, no longer than a single breath.

“I don’t remember.”

It had to be a lie. Misaki felt it in his bones.

“Then when exactly did your memory come back?”

“About five days ago. When I hit my head after the bicycle accident.”

Just like Matsui had predicted. And yet, that still didn’t sit right with Misaki.

After all, Hitoshi had claimed to have lost his memories, but he’d recognized the down jacket Misaki had lent him. Not only that, when they kissed, Hitoshi had kissed him back like he meant it. People don’t do that without remembering. Misaki was sure of it. Hitoshi was lying.

But even so, Misaki couldn’t bring himself to accuse him.

If Hitoshi was lying about not remembering, it meant he didn’t want to remember. The time they’d spent together, living in that cramped apartment, repeating the same barren acts of sex over and over again, those were memories Hitoshi wanted to erase. The adult Hitoshi didn’t need him anymore.

“I lost my memory after collapsing during the mourning period for my grandfather. When I came to, seven months had already passed. In that time, the company’s structure had changed, and I was shocked by how poorly it had been managed. Fortunately, there were still people at the company who supported me, so I’m doing everything I can now to rebuild. Those who claimed I’d taken out loans and used that as an excuse to fire me and sell off my assets, those types were the kind who have plenty of dirt that comes out the moment you give them a little shake, so exposing them wasn’t hard. But the business itself had already taken a steep dive, so it’s going to be rough from here on.”

“I see,” Misaki murmured, but in truth, he couldn’t have cared less whether his brother’s company had been hijacked or gone bankrupt. The only thing he was certain of was that the "child Hitoshi" he had once loved, there was not even a shadow of that boy left in the man before him now.

“I’ve heard I was like a child around six years old during that time. I must have caused you trouble as well. I’d meant to visit and thank you in person, but things at the company have been too hectic. Please forgive the delay.”

You remember, don’t you…? Misaki wanted to say it, but the lie had been stretched so thoroughly, he began to wonder if maybe Hitoshi really didn’t remember after all.

“I’ve got a kid too,” Misaki said. “You were a great playmate for him. It wasn’t any trouble at all. We were just worried when you vanished so suddenly. But if you’re doing okay now, that’s what matters.”

“I truly am sorry. Once things settle down on my end, I’ll make sure to visit properly.”

“Don’t worry about it. We’re brothers, right?”

It was a casual remark, spoken without thought. But the moment it left his lips, both of them froze and looked at each other. That’s right. The person sitting in front of him wasn’t a child. Wasn’t a boyfriend. He was Misaki’s older brother, five years his senior.

“…Once things calm down for me, maybe we could go visit our parents’ grave. All of us, together.”

“Yeah… that sounds good.”

Misaki gave the reply, but it took him a long moment to fully grasp what exactly he had just agreed to.

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