Chapter Text
Death is a concept Choso has grown accustomed to. Has had to be accustomed to. Ever since him and his brother's dad walked out on them, and their mom passed away. Death just had to be one of those things, the same as leaving.
So the only thing Choso let phase him was his brothers. His adoring younger brothers. Who he protected through home, after home, after home, and put through school. Who were going so many places in life.
Until they weren’t.
The days after their deaths Choso couldn’t even remember. The world just moved on past him. Time flashing by like a stream. Only small moments lingering in his mind. He remembers a sympathetic call from his boss, telling him to take some time off. He remembers the call from the hospital. Laying the news on him gently that there would be no more visits.
Though one scene, the worst one, sticks to him like glitter. Refusing to wash away no matter how many times he's bashed his head in, or dunked it in ice. Getting the call. His brothers married to a brick wall. Swerving away from a student who had run out into the road.
Why? Why them?
Part of him wishes they’d hit the student. Because then Eso and Kechizu would still be here. Be with him. But then he thinks of them. The guilt that would eat them alive, killing them slowly, in their own home instead of in hospital beds.
Choso ran out of tears to shed some time after their memorial service. It had only been him, and there had been no real funeral. He didn’t have the money for it. Between the embalming, casket, and lack of guests to say goodbye, there had been no point. Too much money and not enough of a crowd to care. And so he took their ashes to a small lake, just outside the city. Their mom, when she was alive and far less suicidal, had taken them a handful of times. Telling stories of her own parents. Notably avoiding the boy's own father. Eso especially would reminisce on those times. Kechizu didn’t seem to remember them as much, being too young to really grasp them.
Yet they all seemed to like the lake. It being their own corner of peace. Away from the city, a link to so few of the memories of “normal” they share. It seemed like the perfect spot to let a small part of them go.
Not all of them, Choso wasn’t strong enough for that. Even releasing the small sprinkle he did had him throwing up at home. Leaving part of his brothers behind like that. He hated it.
But it all went back to them. Eso and Kechizu. Who had always wanted to leave the city. Always wanted to travel. Kechizu had always wanted to be a pilot…
Choso sighs, a heavy thing that does nothing to relieve the pressure laying into him, and tucks into bed. Yet there's no comfort when he knows his brothers will never lay down again.
_______________
Choso feels like a zombie as the days pass by him. Simply trudging through, dead yet alive. He settles into a dull routine. Go to work, go home, contemplate the fridge, then sleep as long as life will let him.
It all feels so empty without his brothers. Afterall, he’s never lived on his own before. Never lived without them before.
Some nights, he still thinks he can hear Kechizu’s TV. Running nonsense so he can sleep. It gives him the urge to get up, go tell him to turn it down, that all the blue light will throw off his sleep, and yet each time there's nothing there. No Kechizu, no TV. Just moonlight and layers of dust, coating all his various collectibles that Choso always insisted were junk.
And each morning, when he wakes, he thinks he can hear the sound of Eso playing piano. His daily warm-up to wake up the house. Yet each time he exits his room it’s empty. Like a void placed itself in their home and took all signs of his brothers away.
So Choso keeps moving. To work and to home. Trying not to think about the lights of his lives being snuffed by a highschooler. On a Tuesday afternoon, while Choso was at home making miso soup, and preparing fish for their lunches the next day. No matter how old they all got, Choso insisted on it. Only for that fish to go untouched. Instead thrown out once it got bloated and molded.
“So Choso, what’s up? No more lunches?”
Choso comes to himself. Based on the annoying tone he assumes it’s his coworker, Yuki. He hadn’t even realized he was at work, nor on his lunch break.
He shrugs, “Not today.”
Tomorrow he’d make lunch. It’s what he’s promised since the passing. And yet it seemed tomorrow always got further away from him.
Yuki sighs, making herself comfortable in the seat across from him. Her blond hair yellowed further in the janky lighting of the break room.
“Suck’s ya’ know. I had a pretty good bet running on what you would wip up. Say, wanna get some beer after this? I’ll bet I can drink more this time!” She’s leaning onto the table. Mischief clear in her eyes.
She’s the only one that’s treated him the same since his brothers died, and Choso can’t tell how he feels about that. On one hand, he wishes she would leave him alone like everyone else. Let him sit in his cloud of gloom every day. On the other, she’s the only person he’s talked to since the memorial service. And he’s not sure if he would have spoken at all had it not been for her.
He contemplates this frustration named Yuki and shakes his head. Choso can handle a few words, and going to work, but the idea of coming home from drinking without his brothers waiting up for him makes him sick.
She sighs, “Welp, you know how it is. The offer always stands. It’d do you good to start getting out Choso. Trust me.”
On her way out she pats his shoulder. He hates it. That underlying pity. Even moreso he hates the temptation. His desire for that normalcy once again. But he can’t. Because the idea of living his life freely, without his brothers…
Choso takes one last breath, and heads out to finish his shift.
_______________
It’s officially been a year since his brother's death when he gets the call.
Times still running in circles around him, and normalcy is still something only Yuki treats him with, and he still wakes up thinking he’s eighteen again, with little Eso and Kechizu crawling up to join him after nightmares.
He’s lonely.
An empty home isn’t a home Choso’s supposed to live in.
And so his solution comes in the form of a call.
There’s nothing for him to pause other than his misery as he accepts it, ending the ringing the echoes too loudly through the walls.
Before he can speak a soft voice jumps in, “Hello? Is this Kamo Choso?”
He pauses for a second. He doesn't get many calls. Not since…
“This is he. Can I ask who’s speaking?”
“My apologies! My name is Suzuki Ann, I am with [ insert cities name] child protective services, working on an active case for my client.”
“What does this have to do with me? I’m not a foster parent.”
“Right, well the reason for my call, and this may be a lot to hear so please listen, my client has recently lost his last living guardian, yet going through some databases we have found familial connection between you and him. According to our records he would be your younger brother. Seeing as you are an adult and his last living family member I would like to ask if you-”
Choso stops listening. Younger brother. Family.
His hearts beating, so fast he thinks it might explode out of him. He has a brother. A younger brother. One that has gone unbeknownst to him. One that he's failed to look out for. And is now, also, all alone in the world. A younger brother. Alone. Hurting.
“Mr.Kamo? Are you there sir?”
Choso’s throat feels unbelievably dry. He tries to swallow but it does nothing. It’s as if the sahara dessert has been summoned in his mouth. His words come out like sand paper, “Are you sure? Hes…He's really my brother?”
“We are certain. Now as for protocol I want to let you sit with this for a few days before getting your final answer, but by all means, if you need more time feel free to let me know. Now going forward…”
The rest of the conversation muddles in Choso’s mind. He picks up something about house checks and screenings. Maybe a mention of a job check and social worker visits. But none of that matters really. Because he has a brother. A younger brother. By himself, all alone. Abandoned just like he and his brothers were. Because he knows, deep down, how they're related. There’s only one way. Their father. That good for nothing. Coming and going through time as is convenient for him.
Choso makes his way from his muggy room out onto the small porch of the house. And for the first time in a while he breathes, really breathes. That weight inside him is still heavy, still threatens to sink him if he were to jump into the lake, but it loosens up on his lungs. Let’ him take a breath as if he were just emerging from water.
It almost hurts how clear the air is. Not dampened by sweat like at his job, or swamped in grief like in the house. It’s clean, new.
Yet part of him is scared. That this is somehow a dream. This illusion at some kind of chance at returning to normal being a hoax, a prank even. And so he calls the only person he could even consider calling a friend.
Yuki.