Chapter Text
A sunny Saturday afternoon, no clients, no chores, no little brothers; Jiro took a moment to appreciate the perfection of this one moment, as he lay across the couch, watching the latest soccer match, completely uninterrupted. Normally, his Saturdays would be taken over by customer requests or practice, but Yorozuya Yamada was already closed for the day. A few hours ago, Ichiro left to handle some kind of 'big job' outside of the city, leaving Jiro and Saburo behind to 'keep an eye on things at home'. Who knows what he meant by that. As far those two were concerned, everything in the Yamada residence was on pause until their beloved leader, manager, and older brother returned.
That being said, Jiro had absolutely no qualms about taking full advantage of this rare free day. He set himself upright as the commercial break finally segued into the second half of the game. At the edge of his seat, feet planted, and elbows resting on his knees, he stared at the screen in front of him in a rare moment of intense focus. For almost ten minutes, he sat there, completely still save for his eyes darting back and forth, diligently tracking every player, every action, every point. He was entirely in a world of his own. Who knows how long he might have stayed in that position, so uncharacteristically calm and collected, had the TV not suddenly shut off right before his eyes.
With his concentration so rudely shattered, Jiro jumped to his feet, frantically looking around the room. No Saburo. He tried the remote, but the TV didn't respond. Looked towards the kitchen: the lights were off. Going through his mental checklist, he raced over to the stairs and started scrambling up, shouting, "Saburo! Did you short something again!?" He found his little brother standing in the open doorway of his own room, eyes glued to his phone as usual.
"Oi."
"Doesn't look like there were any outages in our area," Saburo stated calmly. Jiro hurried over to his own room, pushing his window open with a grunt. On the streets below, he barely caught a glimpse of a TEPCO truck driving off. Behind him, Saburo calmly made his way into the room, eyes darting rapidly across his screen. Sticking nearly half of his body out the window, Jiro looked up to where the electrical lines were.
"Uh, Saburo?" Jiro pulled his head back in to motion his brother over.
"What?" The word was scathing, "I'm kinda busy right now." Saburo didn't even bother looking up from his screen, though his legs still mindlessly brought him over to Jiro's bed.
"I don't think this is a problem either of us can fix...." Saburo finally lifted his head.
"It's just like you to give u—" The words seemed to catch in his throat once he realized what Jiro was pointing so frantically at. "No way..." Saburo muttered, pushing past to stick his own head out the window, "Th-They disconnected our line? What the hell?!"
"Right?!"
"The only time they do that is when..."
Saburo darted out of the room without even completing his thought. After half a second of shock, Jiro was running right after him.
"Saburo?" Jiro called out. As he descended the last few steps and made his way through the kitchen, he caught a glimpse of the top of Saburo's head, bobbing sporadically behind Ichiro's desk. Walking into the office proper, Jiro could hear the sound of shuffling papers. "Saburo, what ar—"
"Shut up and help me find where Ichi-nii keeps the bills," he shouted, now making his way around the desk to see if there were any more boxes, any more drawers.
"Huh?" Too many things were happening all at once. Watching Saburo dart from place to place only made his head spin all the more. What was he looking for? Why was he looking for it? Why was Saburo in such a big—
"Oh!" At last, Jiro's mind found a hold, "The electric bill!"
"Congratulations," came Saburo's sarcastic response. "In the time it took you to figure that out, I've already searched through all of Ichi-nii's desk drawers."
"Maybe it's under one of these stacks...," Jiro suggested. The two boys look at the daunting mess of papers scattered across their older brother’s desk.
"We probably shouldn't move things, though." Saburo was staring at the desktop with a blank expression, no doubt raking his prodigy brain for any other possible solutions. When he noticed the frustrated crease appearing on his little brother's brow, Jiro cut in, pulling him back to reality.
"Let's just wait until Nii-chan gets back."
The sunny Saturday afternoon continued to pass peacefully despite their predicament. In the office, the room that got the most sunlight, Jiro was lounging on the couch again, this time with his electric guitar in his lap. He picked at the strings lazily, improvising as he went along, penning down anything he thought worth keeping. Peeking over the back of the couch, he could see Saburo on the other end of the room, reading a book next to the window where there was the most light. The two were either tolerating or ignoring the other's presence; this was probably the closest they would ever get to coexistence. He went back to messing around. Save for the quiet hum of steel strings and the occasional rustle of pages turning, the room was quiet and still.
For Jiro, who was used to Saburo’s shouting, Ichiro’s laughing, the blaring of music, and the constant, uninterrupted sound of general chaos, this silence was unnerving. He rearranged himself on the couch, allowing the squeaking leather to fill the void, if only for a moment. In the corner of his eye, he could see Saburo raise his head briefly, probably to glare at him. He almost turned to check, but thought better of it. In a situation like this, just making eye-contact would probably start a fight. Sure, he didn't like the silence, but there was nothing quite as irritating as fighting with his bratty little brother. He contemplated going up to his room just so he didn't have to worry about Saburo becoming a pain, but it was too dark upstairs to really do anything right now. Allowing his head to loll back over the top of the couch, Jiro stared up at the ceiling, wondering how long they must've spent wasting their afternoon like this. Maybe he would go up to his room anyway and just nap until Nii-chan got back, which should be soon. After all, they must have been like this for at least two, maybe three hours. He glanced up at the nearest clock. It had been 30 minutes.
"Are you serious?!" Jiro’s patience gave out easier than a bridge in a B-rated adventure film. From the corner of his eye, he saw Saburo jump. "I can’t stand this! There's nothing to do!"
"Way to state the obvious, you dog-brained moron," Saburo delivered his quip as if he had been waiting for the opportunity, "What were you expecting? A treat?"
"What did you just say, you little shit?" The words flew out of his mouth, purely out of habit. This was exactly what he had been trying to avoid.
"I'm saying that if we replaced your brain with a dog's, you might actually get smarter. " Saburo crossed his arms across his chest in a defiant stance. It was times like these that Jiro wished he could give him one solid crack in the jaw, just so the brat would stop fucking talking.
"If I hit you hard enough, I wonder if I can punch the attitude out of you," he shouted as he got up to face Saburo head on.
"Hah! As if you could ever land one on me!” He had that shit-eating grin of his smeared across his face, even though Jiro could tell that he was discreetly trying to brace himself.
"You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?" He shouted back, eyes narrowed. "You're just pissing me off 'cause you're bored, aren't you?"
"I am doing no such thing," Saburo replied in a disgustingly polite voice, "Your caring little brother just wants to remind you that you're an idiot, in case that fact happened to fall out of your impressively small brain, just like everything else anyone ever says to you."
"Are you this unbearable with everyone?!"
"No, this is just how I treat idiots."
"Yeah, and you think every person you meet is an idiot." Saburo shrugged his shoulders.
"The stupidity of others is out of my control." Just looking at his little brother's smug face was starting to piss him off, but if Nii-chan came back home to find both of them scratched up and bruised, they'd never hear the end of it. Heaving a loud, irritated sigh, he reluctantly began making his way towards the stairs instead, guitar in hand.
"You're a goddamn pain, you know that?" Jiro couldn't help but throw back one last snide remark.
"Who cares about your opinion, you sorry excuse for an older brother." But Jiro was already climbing up the stairs, on his way to his room. He had absolutely no intention of going back so long as Saburo was there. The only place he had left to go was his room and the only thing he could really do there was sleep. He muttered his complaints under his breath as he shuffled into his room, putting his guitar back with little difficulty, thanks to muscle memory. There really was nothing else he could do. No music, no video games, no TV. Jiro tried to lay down on his bed, but he wasn't sleepy, he was just tired; specifically of Saburo's shitty personality.
After a few minutes, Jiro was too restless to even think of napping. He looked around his dimly lit room, struggling to come up with something to do, but upstairs was too dark, while downstairs offered nothing but high blood pressure. Being in the house made him feel like a cat chased up a tree. Then again, why did he have to stay in the house? There were still a few hours of light left in the day. He grabbed a soccer ball from his shelf and headed back downstairs, hoping against hope that he could pass Saburo without having another goddamn encounter.
Luck, however, was something that was rarely on Jiro's side. As he made his way down, he ran into his little brother on the last set of stairs.
"Oh?" Just the tone in Saburo's voice made the beginnings of rage flare up in his chest. "What? Scared of the dark?" He hated this little shit so much, and he made sure that sentiment was very, very clear on his face.
Jiro squeezed past him and down the stairs. "If you need me, I'll be outside doing kick-ups." Good. Saburo was going upstairs, he was going downstairs. The bigger the space between them the better.
"Heh, just gonna play ball with yourself? Isn't that kinda pathetic?" Hearing the taunts follow him down the stairs was enough to make Jiro want to grab him by the collar and throw him right over the railing. He contemplated it, but continued making his way down; he didn't want to get pulled into another senseless fight just 'cause Saburo had nothing better to do. All he wanted was to pass through.
"Can't think of anything better to do," he said off-handedly—or tried to, anyway, "You're the smarter one out of the two of us, why don't you think of something to do?"
"Oh? What's this?" The harassment just wouldn’t end. "Are you admitting that your still-in-middle-school little brother is smarter than you?" Jiro had already made it halfway through the office, but there was something about this kid that always fucking set him off!
"No shit, you're smarter than me!" He turned to look the little shit in the face. "It's hard not to notice when you take every opportunity you can get to prove it. I can't fucking stand your attitude! Even without that, every goddamn person in Ikebukuro already knows that you're a fucking genius." Jiro didn't mean to go this far, but his blood was already too far beyond boiling point for him to stop it. "I can't stand how your spoiled ass thinks you can do and say anything you want, just cause you're smarter than everyone else. This is why no one your age wants to be around you! This is why you’ve never made a single friend in your entire life!" Jiro found himself breathing hard from the exertion. He must've been shouting pretty loud. As he caught his breath and continued to look at the still-recovering Saburo's face, he felt himself finally cooling down.
"...Sorry. I got kinda carried away there," he admitted. For a split second, there was a troubled look on Saburo’s face before it eased into his usual snide expression.
"...So that's what the idiot thinks of me, huh? On the rare occasion that he thinks at all." Saburo's voice was as infuriatingly defiant as usual, but something about the way he was looking at him seemed a little off. He didn't have the usual 100% self-assured air about him now...or maybe he was just imagining it. He settled to simply muss Saburo’s hair.
"You're not cute at all, you know that?" Jiro’s voice was attempting to be jovial, but Saburo still ducked out of Jiro's reach.
"Who asked for your opinion?" Saburo said contemptuously, turning to walk into the kitchen. For a second, Jiro considered responding, but decided against it, moving to go downstairs. There were things that were worth his time and attention, and then there were things like this. He opened the door, ready to make his way down the stairwell, ready to escape the hell that was anywhere Saburo was. Instead, he closed it again, turning back the way he came.
In spite of himself, he was concerned for his little brother. He rounded the corner to see Saburo sitting at the kitchen table, his back facing him. What was he doing?
"Yo, Saburo." He jumped slightly before whipping his head around to glare.
"I thought you were going outside somewhere." The words were polite, but there was an edge in his voice that said something closer to: Why the hell are you still here? Go away. God, this kid was such a handful, but the troubled look he caught a glimpse of earlier made it hard for him to just drop it.
"So that's it? You're just gonna sit in the dark and mope?"
"What the hell makes you think I'm moping?" Jiro plopped himself down into the seat across, resting his chin on his soccer ball. He looked at Saburo with tired, but not unkind eyes.
"Did I cross a line or something?"
"Like I said, I don't know why you think I'm moping," Saburo shot back. Jiro leaned back in his chair.
"’Cause your expression right now is exactly the same as when you were getting all depressed that time, after we lost. And if I'm the one that caused you to make that face, then that would make me a really shitty older brother."
"Aren't you already?" Saburo jeered, but it was weaker, emptier.
"Oi." Silence. Then, Saburo finally spoke up.
".....I don't know," he muttered, eyes averted, chin in hand. Jiro gave him a quizzical look.
"Huh? Don't know what?"
“I don’t know...” For a moment, Saburo seemed to struggle for words, "I don't know why I...," but then his expression changed, “I don’t know why I’m even talking to you right now.” That cold, unconcerned bravado was back. Saburo got up abruptly and headed upstairs. Jiro groaned.
“Why do I even bother worrying about you?”
“I never asked you to!" Saburo shouted from the top of the stairs, "Keep your gross, idiotic sentiments to yourself!"
Jiro leaned back in his chair thoughtfully. A few seconds later, he heard the distant sound of Saburo slamming his door. Did he end up making things worse? He honestly couldn't tell. No matter how he looked at it, though, things weren’t any better and didn’t look like they were gonna get any better. As irritating as the brat was, he was still worried about him.
Man, what the hell? Should he try to talk to him again later? If he was too embarrassed to talk about it to him then it was almost guaranteed he'd be too embarrassed to talk to Nii-chan about it. He did have that pride of his, after all.
‘An older brother never makes his little brother cry.’ Nii-chan's chastising words reached Jiro from years ago. But he already knew that! He was doing his best to be a good older brother! If only Saburo could show him a shred of damn respect!
He eventually moved into the office to lie down on the couch, his thoughts on what he should do still circling around in his head but always getting nowhere. Before long, he fell asleep.
"...Oi." Jiro woke up to something nudging his side. Jiro opened his eyes to see a foot. He looked up to see that it was, of course, Saburo. In the room behind him, orange beams were shining through the windows.
"What is it?" Jiro sat up with a stretch and a yawn.
"Get up and help me look for the flashlights before it gets dark."
"Ugh, alright alright, gimme a sec," he said groggily, taking a moment to stretch his stiff limbs. As much as he hated how pompous he was about it, Jiro appreciated how Saburo was always thinking ahead. They found the flashlights just as the sun was setting, shrouding some parts of their apartment in near-complete darkness.
"Maybe we should call Nii-chan and ask him when he's going to be coming home…" Their older brother was more than capable of taking care of himself, but watching the sun disappear beyond the limits of Ikebukuro, he couldn’t help but still feel a little uneasy.
"Are you an idiot? He'll just worry about us. We shouldn’t be burdening him with our anxieties." Jiro's eye twitched at hearing his own words of advice being used against him, but he let it go. He was right. Saburo turned to look out the office windows, a complex expression on his face. Jiro wondered if something was still bothering him.
"Alright," Jiro said decisively, pulling Saburo out of his thoughts, "Why don't we go get something for dinner, then?"
The two started making their way down the street, side by side, but not quite together. He glanced over at Saburo, but he was just staring blankly at nothing.
"So, what do you wanna eat?" No response. "Oi."
"I don't care."
"...Really?" Normally, Saburo was the picky one. "Well then, uh... how about the sandwich shop at the corner?" It was just a top-of-the-head suggestion, but Saburo gave a quiet, affirmative grunt. Not once did he turn to look at him, the fucking brat. If he hadn’t been sulking earlier today, he was definitely sulking now . God, he really needed to talk to him later…
He glanced over at his brother, who was staring blankly at the pavement ahead of him.
"Oi." Again, no response. Jiro tugged on the sleeve of his hoodie, but Saburo ripped it out of his hand. "You're drifting towards the road," he explained.
"I don't need you to tell me that." He brushed off his sleeve as if it had been dirtied. Jiro could feel his jaw clenching. He readjusted his hat in agitation, muttering under his breath, "Why do I even try?"
Eventually, they made it to the shop. Saburo stood just far away enough where it was unclear if the two were associated or not. With arms crossed, the brat looked literally anywhere but at him, seeming to stew in his own thoughts. Jiro, not wanting to even deal with it anymore, fiddled with his phone until he got to the front of the line.
“Oi, Saburo.” He turned to meet Saburo’s condescending glare.
“What.”
"What do you mean, what? What are you getting?”
"Oh."
For a short window of time, Saburo played the good kid. He smiled politely, ordered his food, and quietly left to find an empty table to sit at. The two sat across from each other, avoiding eye contact as much as possible as they ate.
Jiro kept picking up his phone, but he was far too agitated to use it for anything right now. When it buzzed on the table top, his eyes darted to it curiously. Across the table, Saburo pulled out his own phone. It was a message from Nii-chan.
Jiro, Saburo. Sorry, this job was a lot more than I anticipated.
I won't be able to get back until tomorrow morning.
Will you two be alright?
Both sent their affirmatives.
"Great, I'm stuck with you for the rest of the night," Saburo grumbled.
"You'd be stuck with me either way. Our rooms are right next to each other, in case you haven't noticed." Saburo scowled.
"I meant just you—actually, why am I even trying to explain myself to a moron like you?"
"You're such a goddamn brat."
The two brothers fell into tense silence once again, eating their sandwiches a little more aggressively now. Both were absorbed in their own thoughts. Even to a person passing by, the tension between them was obvious. At this point, Jiro had already wolfed down his entire sandwich and was just lounging in his chair, waiting. He glanced over at Saburo. His head was turned away, but he could see him chewing very, very slowly. In his hand, he was still holding more than half a sandwich. If he knew anything, it was that losing your appetite is a definite sign that something was wrong.
Jiro got up. Saburo barely paid him any mind. Up at the counter, he got a to-go bag from one of the cashiers and sat back down, wordlessly setting it down in the middle of the table. Leaning back, he stared at his little brother, almost expectantly. For a moment, Saburo stared back; it was the expression of someone trying to figure out the motive of someone they didn't trust. But once that moment passed, he diligently wrapped his sandwich up and stood to leave.
Jiro got up from his chair, stretched a bit, and gave an "aight, let's head home." As they started their way back up the dark street, Saburo was fiddling with his phone as he walked, trying to keep up that same bravado from before. He sighed.
"Are you still trying to pretend that there's nothing bothering you?"
"Why do you care so much all of a sudden?” The statement came with a sneer.
"Does the fact that I'm your older brother mean nothing to you?" The impatience was starting to come through in Jiro's voice.
"Oh! I have a second older brother? I never noticed." Saburo's voice was dripping with enough sarcasm to fill a fucking pool. "I must've mistaken you for a poorly trained pet or something."
Without thinking, Jiro grabbed the front of Saburo's hoodie, forcing him to look him in the face.
" Read the atmosphere a little for once!" Jiro growled. "I know that you can't fucking stand me and I can't fucking stand you, but even though I really wanna knock you down a peg or two, at the end of the day, you're still my little brother, okay? And that means I care about you, okay? So quit it with the act already; you’re not fooling anyone." He let go.
Saburo brushed off his clothes as they continued walking, an irritated expression on his face.
"...Are you not embarrassed to say gross stuff like that out loud?"
"I'm trying to have a serious conversation here!"
"A serious conversation?You? Do you even know how? When have you ever been serious about anything in your life, Mr. Teach-me-I'm-too-lazy-to-learn? The only association 'serious' has with you is 'seriously stupid.'" Saburo started to walk ahead and he let him. Being around Saburo was like standing too close to a pan of hot oil.
Jiro forced himself to take a deep breath. He couldn’t start losing his cool about this, if he wanted to win against Saburo. Sure, the initial intention was to help his little brother, like a good older brother, but at the same time, what was supposed to be a conversation had turned into a full-on battle, and he wasn’t about to let that spoiled know-it-all brat win. No way in hell .
Jiro stayed a few paces behind Saburo, just far enough that it would be a hassle for Saburo to argue over his shoulder. When they got home, Saburo went in first and slammed the door closed in his face.
"Saburo, you ass!" He fumbled for his keys. No matter the situation, that brat always found a way to get on his nerves. Above him, he could hear the brat stomping his way up the stairs. He said it before, but this damn kid really was such a fucking pain.
Grabbing one of the flashlights they had left by the door, Jiro took a second to look around the room a bit. With no sun and no power, it was no better than empty space. Jiro made his way upstairs at an unhurried pace, lazily illuminating the ground right in front of him.
Just as he was about to reach the third floor, Jiro yelped. At the head of the stairs, Saburo was standing in his house clothes, hugging an unlit lantern against his chest.
"Jesus Christ, you gave me a fucking heart attack, Saburo." When there was no response, he added in a mockingly high-pitched voice, " Then why are you still alive, that's probably what you're thinking, huh?” Jiro ascended the last few steps, but Saburo only wordlessly moved aside to give him space. Jiro frowned. He was being far too compliant.
Just as Jiro was about to open his mouth to speak, Saburo said, "If you tell me something embarrassing about you, then maybe I'll feel like talking to you.” His eyes were trained downward as he spoke. Equivalent exchange, huh? If Saburo was really gonna stand down like this, there was no way he would pass up the opportunity.
"Sure, I can work with that." As he began walking over to his room, Saburo followed. Something about that felt oddly nostalgic. He opened his bedroom door and motioned him to go in with his flashlight. After turning on his lantern and setting it down on a low table, Saburo walked over to sit on the edge of Jiro’s bed, swearing under his breath when he tripped on some of the clothes strewn across the floor. The thought that he should clean briefly entered his mind, but didn’t stay very long.
From the dim light of the lanter, Jiro noticed that Saburo's expression was a mix of pained and pissed. His face was starting to turn pink, too, though Jiro wasn't sure if it was from anger or from embarrassment.
"I don't really know what you want," Jiro started as he removed his cap and jacket, "but I'll try to be open with ya."
"Neither of us can laugh, okay?"
"Yeah, yeah, I get it." Jiro pulled off his shirt and dropped it at his feet. So much for cleaning up.
"And neither of us can mention anything to anyone, not even to Ichi-nii." Not even Nii-chan, huh?
"Aight, that’s fine,” Jiro felt around in the dark for his home clothes as he spoke, “but the moment you blab about me, I'm ratting you out, got it?"
"Do you not trust me?" The words rang with indignation.
"I didn't say that," he said, pulling his shirt on over his head, "I'm just saying, this is basically double-blackmail, isn't it?" Saburo hummed in agreement ...or maybe he was growling in agitation. It was really impossible to tell.
He seated himself next to Saburo on the edge of the bed. He could’ve sworn he saw that brat trying to slide further away from him.
"So," Jiro leaned back to lie on his bed, "what kind of dirt do I need to shell out to make you tell me what's up?"
"I dunno," Saburo muttered, "Just tell me something where you'd rather die than tell me."
"Something I wouldn't tell you, huh?" Jiro spent a minute or so thinking. What in his life hadn’t Saburo held against him yet? It was hard to really hide anything in an apartment with just the three of them. He sat back up.
"I can't think of anything."
"There has to be something," Saburo's voice had a tinge of irritation in it again.
"Yeah, but..." Jiro looked around his room for anything that would get his memory going. Let's see: guitar...video games...eugh, schoolwork...clothes...soccer stuff… As Jiro’s eyes moved over to his small table, he caught a glimpse of an old shoe box sticking out from underneath. Suddenly his face was feeling rather hot.
His expression must have changed, too, because Saburo was now turning to look at him. He pointed sharply at Saburo.
"If I tell you this, you better fucking follow through."
“When have I never followed through? Just tell me already."
A pause.
"Promise you won't be grossed out?"
"I suppose I’ll try."
"Okay..." Jiro let out a breath. "You remember how we used to make cards for each other's birthdays? Back at the orphanage."
"Mm." It was clear from the tone of his voice that he didn't really want to remember.
"I know they were just messy, colored-paper cards with everything in crayon and stuff, but even back then, I, uh, decided I wanted to keep them. Like, all of them. ” He let out a nervous laugh. “It’s been so long that I actually forgot that I still had them. I recently found them when I was cleaning out some stuff.” Jiro pointed sheepishly at the shoe box.
There was a slight pink tinge to Saburo's cheeks, but his response was still, "T-That's not that embarrassing, stupid." Jiro's fists clenched against his knees. Why the hell was he doing this again? Did he seriously agree to this? " I'm gonna need something better than that, or I'm not talking." Saburo's arms were crossed, his nose impudently turned up.
He reached forward to grab the shoe box, placing it on his lap. It was enough to get Saburo to glance back over curiously. When he took off the lid, the first thing that could be seen was a big construction paper card. On its face, written in big, messy, crayon kana, was 'I love Jiro-nii!'. He picked up the card with one hand and covered his face with the other.
"This one was... my favorite, I guess," he explained reluctantly, "I used to look at it sometimes to cheer myself up." Saburo pointed to a section on the bottom.
"Are those tear-stains?" Jiro immediately shut the lid.
"Well? Have I humiliated myself enough for you yet?" He could hear a tired kind of irritation starting to come out in his own voice. "If it turns out I did that for nothing, I swear, I will beat you into the fucking ground."
"Yeah, yeah whatever," Saburo waved off the threat, "Why don’t you shut up for a second so I can think.” He looked up at the ceiling. "When did it start, again?"
"Uh, well," Jiro said, replaying the scene in his head, "all I remember is that we were fighting in the office, I went off on you, and you started acting weird after that."
"Ah..." was the only response.
Two full seconds of silence.
"Uh, I don't remember exactly what I said... but," Jiro counted off on his fingers, "it was something about being a condescending spoiled brat, how you just do whatever you want, uh...blah blah blah, you have no friends—"
"I remember now," Saburo interrupted. Jiro waited patiently for him to start. With a heavy sigh, Saburo laid himself down. Hands behind his head, eyes still trained on the ceiling, as if he were reading off of some invisible passage written there. "...I don't know why, but when you said that bit about no one wanting to be around me, I felt...really irritated, to the point that I didn't even feel like fighting with you." Saburo turned his face away so Jiro couldn’t see his expression.
"But I've said that a bunch of times before."
"I know that." Saburo didn't bother hiding the agitation in his voice. "And it's always given me that weird irritated feeling," Saburo admitted, "It's just that it was a lot stronger this time, for some reason." Jiro frowned. Could Saburo really not figure out something that obvious?
"Why don't you try making some friends then, if it bothers you so much."
"Who said it did?" Saburo spat, "I don't have time to worry about what a bunch of nobodies think of me." Jiro just stared. How could he be so smart and yet so stupid?
"If you actually didn't care, we wouldn't even be having this conversation."
"But I have no reason to care. Why would it matter to me what people I don't know or care about think of me?
"Aren't you lonely?"
"Lonely?" Saburo scoffed. "The only person I need by my side is Ichi-nii." Jiro pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Look. Saburo, I'm gonna be real with you," he said firmly, "I don't know what the hell is going on in that head of yours, but from the outside, it's obvious that you're in denial." For a second, Saburo looked like he was about to dismiss the idea, but he let Jiro speak. "You're always gonna care about what people think of you, at least a little bit, 'cause that's just how humans are. If you ignore it, it's just gonna go to the back of your mind and keep pissing you off from there. You have to admit that it's there first, and then decide that it doesn't bother you. But honestly, you should just stop being a little shit and make some actual friends for a damn change."
Saburo shot him a nasty glare. "Quit talking as if you know me."
Jiro let out a disdainful laugh. "Do you hear yourself? Where'd you get that line? The 'edgy middle schooler' manual?" He pointed at Saburo. "And I do know you. I'm your older brother, and that means I've known you for longer than you can even remember." Saburo scowled but said nothing. "I know you're not gonna admit that I'm right, but just listen, okay? Nii-chan told me something once, a long time ago. He said 'You can try to ignore your feelings, But that's a battle no one can win. Not even me.' …’Me’ being Nii-chan."
"Not even Ichi-nii, huh...," Saburo muttered, still irritated, but now a bit thoughtful, "What am I supposed to do about it, then?"
"Hah, what does Nii-chan always say?" Jiro struck a fighting pose. "Face your opponents head on and don't hold back!" Saburo simply stared at him, unimpressed.
"Do you hear yourself right now? That doesn't make any sense. " Jiro gave him a self-satisfied look.
"And here we see the gap in experience that comes with a three year age difference." Saburo shot him another nasty look.
"Look.” This time, Jiro was doing his best to sound serious. “You gotta deal with emotions the same way you'd deal with a very persistent stalker." Saburo stared at him, incredulous. " Don't give me that look. It'll make sense, trust me." There was an uncharacteristically focused look in his eye. "Look, when you have a stalker, ignoring them is one of the worst things you can do, right? Instead of pretending they aren't there, you have to acknowledge that they exist and find out as much about them as you can so you can properly face them,” he said matter-of-factly, adding in: "I've had to deal with a stalker once, so I know what I'm talking about."
Saburo rolled his eyes. "...it wasn't even your stalker..."
"It's the same with emotions,” Jiro continued, ignoring him. “Like...using the first Division Rap Battle as an example." For the first time since Jiro started talking, Saburo seemed to really listen. "After I woke up and realized that we lost, inside my head felt like...or, my entire body was...like...anyway, I felt like absolute shit. I wanted to just kick all of it on the side and not deal with it, but... I forced myself to sit there and really try to think about it." He leaned back on his hands, looking up at the same ceiling Saburo had been staring at before. Saburo watched him intently. "I mean, obviously I was sad that we lost and mad at that stupid cop and that weird-ass soldier dude, but I felt like there was something else that I didn't want to admit." Jiro’s expression eased into something more somber, "So even though it hurt, I forced myself to face it. I thought about the battle, about what happened, about how we lost... Turns out, the person I was most angry with was myself."
He turned to give Saburo a sheepish smile, "I started thinking about all the things I did wrong during the battle, then the things I've done wrong as a team member, then things I've done wrong as a brother. If I had let it keep going like that, I probably woulda just given up right then and there. Consider myself a lost cause. But instead, I looked it straight in the face and said, 'I tried my hardest out there and I'm proud of that! I'll definitely do even better next time! I've still got a ways to go, but I've come a long way, too! Even though I'm not really sure what I'm supposed to do right now, I just need to keep looking straight ahead!' And then, it kinda felt like...like...you know when you shake hands with someone from the opposite team after a really tough soccer match? ...Ok wait, maybe soccer isn't really—"
"We did that at math meets, too." Saburo interjected, "so..." JIro perked up a bit.
"O-Oh! Then you get what I mean, right? Acknowledging someone, but not giving in to them?" Suddenly, he was starting to feel a little self-conscious, "Or...well...I mean... it did make some sense, right...? " He asked nervously. A nod.
"It made sense." For once, Saburo appeared sincere, but his expression quickly returned to something more familiar, "...In fact, it made so much sense that I'm convinced that you can't actually be my real brother, because it would be impossible for the real Jiro to even hold that many thoughts in his head at once."
Jiro was caught off guard. "You—! I-I'm gonna sock you right in that mouth of yours one of these days, for real." Saburo stuck out his tongue and turned away. Jiro heard something.
"Oh, was that a 'thank you', that I just heard?"
"Shut up," Saburo shouted, shoving him to the side.
"And with that, the score is now up to 3-0." Jiro was beaming. He reached out to pat Saburo affectionately on the head only to have his hand violently knocked away.
"What score? Are you talking about your IQ, because I think that’s a very generous estimate."
Still grinning, Jiro held up three fingers. "Three points to me, one for every time you've thanked me, which means," Jiro announced triumphantly "you're indebted to me."
"Since when? "
Jiro started counting off. "Let's see, before the match, when I stopped you from—"
"S-Stupid! That was just a courtesy thank you!" Saburo blurted the words out, clearly flustered.
“Let’s not forget right after the battle, when I tried to cheer you up.”
"Only because you're such a failure of an older brother all the time, seeing you actually act like one for once made me feel like I had to say something! I shouldn't have to thank someone for doing the bare minimum, especially not someone as unreliable as you." This ungrateful brat…!
"You should be thanking me for even putting up with you!"
"I could say the same about you!"
The two of them glared at each other, both at an impasse, and he was way too tired to think up anything else to say. He wouldn’t be surprised if Saburo was, too. It was getting pretty late, after all.
Jiro kicked Saburo in the hip. "Well? If you're done being an irritating shit, get out. I'm going to sleep." Saburo jumped to his feet, turning to throw Jiro one last indignant sneer.
"Then this marks the end of our truce." He picked up the lantern.
"Sure didn't feel like a truce, you damn ingrate." Jiro spat. Saburo elected to ignore him.
"Remember: from this point on, none of this ever happened, okay?"
"All right, I get it already."
Saburo continued to hurl insults even as he backed his way out of the room. "By the way, none of this has altered my opinion of you at all, you pathetic zygote. I don't owe you anything, got it?"
"You can’t hurt me with words I don’t know," Jiro waved him off. As he laid himself back down on his bed, Jiro heard his bedroom door slam closed. He really wasn't cute at all…
The next day, Ichiro got back just a bit before noon. The moment they heard the front door open, Jiro and Saburo came running downstairs to greet him, fighting like they always did.
"Ichi-nii! Welcome back!”
Jiro elbowed past him. "Nii-chan! How did the job go?"
Ichiro was barely in the door, still taking his shoes off. "All according to plan, just took longer than expected." He hugged his two brothers. "I missed you guys. ...oh, also, do you know what happened to the light in the stairwell?" Jiro and Saburo looked at each other.
"Uh...well,"
"So..."
"Yesterday, the power..."
"we were wondering..."
"N-Not that we doubt you, Ichi-nii!" Saburo clarified, "B-Basically, our power's been disconnected."
"........eh?" Ichiro ran over to his desk and pulled out a business card. He put in the number. “Disconnected,” he sighed. "Looks like I'll have to go in person." As Ichiro set his things down and turned to go back out, Jiro and Saburo tentatively followed close behind.
"Ichi-nii..?"
"I have an agreement with the landlord," he explained, "The utilities are supposed to come out of the rent. Something must have happened."
When they arrived at the address, it quickly became clear what had happened: the property had been abandoned, and not recently either. The front was in disrepair from unhindered burglarization and almost every window had been broken one way or another. Even some of the paneling was peeling away from the outside walls, barely hanging in place. In the doorjamb, here were a number of sheets of paper sticking out. Ichiro pulled one out: it was a 'disconnection of service' notice.
"W-Well, we never really had to communicate very much..." Ichiro admitted.
"Nii-chan, you think the bastard straight up bailed?" Jiro was looking through the other notices.
"And a while ago, it looks like," Saburo added, looking through one of the broken windows. They both turned to their older brother, who was looking closely at the notices, contemplating something.
"Let's just head home for now, you two. We gotta get our own things straightened out before we can get after the landlord."
"Got it!" The two chorused.
Back at Yorozuya Yamada, the lights were, of course, still out, but the sun illuminated the office well enough. Ichiro got to work; the brothers wanted to help, but Saburo was almost completely defanged without his setup, and Jiro didn’t exactly have many contacts that worked in daylight. All they could do was watch and admire their eldest brother as he made his calls, crossing the office with long strides, mentioning names that neither of them recognized.
Finally, Ichiro set down his phone and breathed a sigh of relief. He directed a wide grin towards his brothers. "Everything's been sorted out." The boys’ eyes went wide.
"Ichi-nii, you're amazing!"
"Nii-chan always knows what to do!"
Ichiro laughed. He seemed slightly embarrassed by their praise. "Well, it wasn't really me. I had to rely on a couple of old friends and their acquaintances, and they really followed through for me." Then, he looked straight at his two younger brothers, a keen look in his eyes. "Remember, you two: nurture your friendships. If you're there for your friends, when you need it most, they're the ones that’ll be there for you." Jiro agreed wholeheartedly. Saburo nodded, but his smile was an empty one.
It was only a few hours until the power was back. As the lights flickered back on, Jiro and Saburo scrambled up to their rooms. Saburo was probably hugging his monitors right now. Jiro excitedly grabbed his guitar and tore through a few riffs. From beyond their shared wall, he could already hear shouted complaints; the usual ruckus of everyday was back once again.
When Jiro told and retold the story of that day to whoever would listen, it was always a heroic tale of how Ichiro had saved the day. He talked about how Saburo eventually pinpointed where the guy had run off to, how he had cashed in a favor with some pals he had in the area, how Ichiro and some lawyer guy with a pompadour managed to get the building in their name somehow. In truth, it wasn’t any more outlandish than the usual stories that involved the three, as far as his abridged version of events went.
It hadn’t been anything special, yet even days later, Jiro found himself thinking back to that day—or rather, that night. When he took the time to really appreciate it, he realized that that was probably the longest and most civil conversation he’d had with Saburo in years. Was it because Nii-chan had been away? In the absence of their beloved older brother, there in that pitch-black apartment, had the two had been forced to settle for each other?
It was an isolated incident as far as Jiro was concerned. Just like he said he would, Saburo treated him exactly the same as usual: unfairly. Everything else about him was completely unchanged as well; what was the point in him even giving that brat advice? Of course he wouldn’t follow it. It was a conversation that occurred only because of boredom on both sides. He concluded that that was all it came down to.