Lovely Brother
Your hair is sticking up again.
You just washed your face, didn't you? And you still have bedhead.
You're in high school already―try putting a little effort into how you look, will you?
Watching my annoyingly good-looking brother casually sip his miso soup makes me sigh.
"I will fix your hair later, so don't go anywhere."
"It's fine, really."
It might be fine with you, but it's not fine with me.
Even in the warm southern city Mastuyama, the cold spell had lingered since the end of the year.
This morning on Setsubun, it's gotten so cold that the condensation is out of control.
"Come on, sit there."
After breakfast, I sit him down on a stool in front of the mirror and press a towel, soaked in hot water and lightly wrung out, against his hair.
"Ow, hot,hot,hot!"
"Hold still"
I hold his thrashing head steady with both hands.
"You really can touch something this hot?"
"What are you making such a fuss about?"
I glance down at my palm.
Soft, rounded ―just a high school girl's hand.
I wonder if, even as a high schooler, my hands have already turned into a housewife's.
The well-defined face reflected in the mirror lets out a small, exasperated, "Jeez."
That's my line.
As I run the hair dryer, I shape his thick, fluffy hair into place.
"Ah―look at the time already!"
"That's why I told you it was fine"
That's exactly why it's not fine!
I hurriedly change into my uniform.
A traditional sailor-fuku uniform—black top and skirt, with white trim along the collar. “Traditional,” sure, but couldn’t they make it a little more stylish?
I roll my skirt up—once, twice—to shorten it. Black tights for warmth, a beige coat over that, and a red scarf wrapped around my neck. Finally, I put on the thick black-rimmed glasses sitting on top of the shoe cabinet.
The mirror shows exactly what I expect: a girl from a college-prep school who looks like she lives for studying.
I try a small smile.
"Did you lock the window in the other room?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you unplug the TV?”
“All good.”
The moment I open the front door, a blast of cold air stings my face.
Kinashi Miko, seventeen. Kinashi Sotoko, fifteen.
A brother and sister living on their own.
It’s been almost two years now.
Our mother died in the fall when I was in third grade.
I was told she was hit in a traffic accident while walking.
She was always smiling, light and warm. I don’t remember her ever scolding me.
She was kind—and very beautiful.
At the time, our father was working alone in Tokyo.
A neighbor took us to the hospital. It was a cold, overcast day, heavy clouds hanging low. I remember sitting on a dim hallway bench, waiting for what felt like forever.
Our father came back the next day.
After the funeral, there was talk of taking us to Tokyo.
But since there was no one there to look after us—and we didn’t want to leave Matsuyama—it was decided that our maternal grandmother would come live with us instead.
Grandma had lived in Dōgo with my uncle’s family. We used to visit her often, and she’d come to our place just as much.
Once we started living together, she poured all her love into us.
Especially me—she drilled me thoroughly in every aspect of housework.
That grandmother passed away during spring break of my third year of middle school.
Our father, who had been transferred to the U.S. the year before, asked if we wanted to come join him.
I didn’t think it was a bad idea, but my brother—just about to start high school—said, “Please, no.” And just like that, the idea disappeared.
Our uncle also offered to take us in.
But living while constantly worrying about each other felt suffocating.
And besides, by then I had already been handling most of the housework on my own while Grandma’s health declined. Taking care of just my brother didn’t seem like a big deal.
“Then try living on your own.”
That’s what our father said before leaving Japan.
And so our make-believe life began.
Ehime-kenritsu Ehime High School stands within the grounds of Matsuyama Castle. Just southwest of the main keep, right beneath the stone walls. Students cross the moat to get to school.
In the mornings, I get off at Minamihoribata. I like the feeling of crossing the moat from there and entering the castle grounds. On the way home, I take the tram from Kenchō-mae—it’s more convenient.
That day, when I got off the tram, the wind was strong.
“Brr—so cold!”
My eyes start watering.
The overhead wires howl in the wind, and the streetcar groans along the frozen tracks with a dull mechanical hum.
Crossing the gray moat, I see the castle grounds dusted with frost, pale and stiff. The ground is hard.
I idly think how much it would hurt if I slipped and scraped my knee.
As we pass near the broadcasting station, someone calls out, “Soto!”
I turn around to see Shion Nikaidō waving and running toward us.
“Morning!”
“Morning.”
She’s tall, so she dips her head slightly and says to my brother, “Good morning.”
“Good morning.”
He replies politely.
“It’s cold again today, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, it is.”
Shion keeps chatting with him about nothing in particular.
And while my brother does a good job responding properly… the way their conversations don’t quite line up sometimes is almost charming.
After we stepped into the old-fashioned school building and parted ways with my brother, Shion hunched her shoulders slightly and whispered,
“Your brother really is good-looking, isn’t he, Soto?”
“Is he?”
“He’s tall, his face is really nice, and his hair’s always perfectly styled.”
I almost burst out laughing.
“What? Something wrong?”
“No, nothing.”
I wonder what kind of reaction she’d have if she saw him this morning.
There are things only family would ever notice about someone—everyone has those, I guess.
Thinking that, I stepped into the chilly classroom.
