Setsubun
When I got home, my brother—Miko—was already back.
I took off my glasses and changed, then went for a quick run around the neighborhood. After that, the two of us headed out to the local supermarket. My vision’s a little blurry without them, but it still feels better not having frames in my field of view.
Once we reached the tram-lined street, the sky opened up.
The western sky was clearer than before, and the heavy clouds that had drifted east were lit up gold by the setting sun.With the sunlight at our backs, we walked side by side.
Every now and then, a cold north wind would hit us—sharp enough to sting.
“So, what should we do for dinner?”
I ask the person walking to my left.
“Anything’s fine.”
“That’s the most unhelpful answer you could give.”
“Then… curry?”
“We just had that the other day.”
“Did we?”
Seriously—you don’t remember anything, do you?
“It’s cold, so how about hot pot?”
“Yeah, that sounds good.”
“Okay, then what kind of hot pot?”
“Anything’s fine.”
That’s exactly what I said was the problem!
In the end, we decided on a simple chicken hot pot. I put in extra chicken drumettes, along with napa cabbage, chrysanthemum greens, daikon, shiitake mushrooms, carrots, enoki mushrooms, and two blocks of firm tofu. Two cartons of milk, too—plus an ehōmaki roll and some beans for the Setsubun bean-throwing.
While I was picking out the milk, someone called out to me, “What are you doing?”
“Isn’t it obvious? I’m choosing milk.”
“But they’re all the same, aren’t they?”
“The dates are different. Sometimes the newer ones are in the back.”
“It’s not like they’re expired. We’ll drink them soon anyway, so you don’t have to be so picky.”
What is he even talking about?
“Of course it’s better to get the freshest one. They’re the same price.”
“But if everyone does that, the older ones just get left behind and end up being thrown out, right?”
“That’s the store’s stocking problem. Why should we be the ones dealing with their unsold products?”
“…I see. That actually makes sense.”
That’s not the point.
As we were leaving the supermarket, I saw my brother carrying the reusable bag and remembered what Shion had said that morning.
“Your brother really is good-looking, isn’t he, Soto?”
Good-looking, huh.
The days had grown noticeably longer, and it was still bright outside.
But the dazzling light carried no warmth, and the wind that blew against us stung the skin.
“It’s really bright,” I said to the person walking on my right.
“Yeah,” he replied.
His face, lit gold by the sun, and his soft, full hair dancing in the wind—
That night, after we finished our hot pot, I set down two shorter ehōmaki rolls.
“This year, we’re supposed to face that way,” I said, pointing in the lucky direction I’d looked up the day before.
“And you’re not allowed to talk while you’re eating.”
“Who even came up with that rule?”
“Come on, no complaints—just eat quietly.”
“You’re way too into the marketing.”
“But it’s fun, isn’t it? I don’t mind little events like this that spice up an otherwise boring routine.”
“You said you weren’t interested in Halloween.”
“I’m just not into the kind that turns into a whole commotion. Anyway, enough talking—go on, eat.”
“…Fine.”
He sighed—but still, he quietly started eating.
Thinking how cute that was, I turned in the same direction and took a big bite of my roll.
…Yeah. Eating in silence is not fun at all.
“It’s not even that tasty if you can’t talk,” I said—but got no response.
“Hey, are you listening?”
That neat, composed face turned toward me. Still chewing, he raised a finger to his lips.
That gesture was just too cute.
So I reached over from behind and mercilessly tickled his side.
“Guh—!”
Grains of rice went flying from his mouth.
“Ugh—Miko, that’s disgusting!”
“Sotoko… s-stop it—!”
He’s always been so ticklish. That hasn’t changed since he was a kid.
It was too funny, so I hugged him and kept going.
Cleaning up afterward was a pain, though.
After that, we went outside into the cold night air and threw beans.
Even though he grumbled, “We’re doing this again this year?” he still went along with it once we started.
Family, huh.
Watching him—serious as ever—calling out “Out with the demons, in with good fortune,” his breath turning white in the cold, I couldn’t help but think so.
At night, we lay out two futons side by side in the tatami room.
We used to sleep in our own rooms, but after Grandma came to live with us, we all started sleeping together in the tatami room. Even after she passed away, it just… sort of continued.
After my bath, I dried my hair, changed into my pajamas, and slipped into bed.
“Turn off the light.”
“Okay.”
As soon as the room went dark, I could hear his soft, steady breathing. He really does fall asleep fast—like Nobita. Watching his innocent sleeping face, I found myself thinking back to long ago.
It was the summer when my brother was in sixth grade and I was in fifth.
A few days after Obon, with only a little time left in summer vacation, the two of us went to a pool for the first time on our own. We took a train—it felt like a real trip.
I even bought a new swimsuit just for that day. My first separate one. I’d wanted to surprise him, but he completely ignored it.
Time at the pool flew by.
A pale blue sky, the blazing sun overhead. Deep green trees, and the deafening chorus of cicadas.
“Hey, Sotoko, want to try the butterfly?”
That was the excuse for the day—he was going to teach me butterfly. I thought he was saying “batta,” like a grasshopper. It sounded kind of funny.
“You know, butterfly’s all about wave motion.”
“Wave… motion?”
“Try moving like you’re a wave. Like this.”
He demonstrated, moving his hips up and down in the water like a ripple. I copied him.
“Nice, nice. Now when your body comes up, pull with your arms—that’s butterfly.”
I did what he said. After a few tries, it felt like I could actually do it.
“Hey, Miko! Did you see? I did it—was that butterfly?”
“That was a perfect tonosama grasshopper.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? I’m not a grasshopper!”
“If you’re doing butterfly, I’ll do fried shrimp.”
With a splash, he bent and stretched like a shrimp and disappeared into the water.
Ahahaha—
We laughed, loud and carefree.
After practicing, we floated along the lazy river with arm floaties, and rode the water slides over and over, screaming every time. Each time we were dumped into the water, it was so funny we couldn’t stop laughing—our whole faces turning into smiles.
By evening, the sky was still bright, with towering summer clouds tinged faint pink.
In that late-summer air—somehow languid, a little melancholic—we sat side by side at the poolside.
I leaned in just slightly. Our skin touched, and I felt his warmth. It made me a little happy.
“Oh—look, a contrail.”
He pointed up at the sky—a single line stretching across it.
“I’ve never seen one that color before.”
It was tinted a soft pink.
“Yeah.”
I turned to him and smiled. His gentle double-lidded eyes, his long hair—wet and glossy, covering his ears.
“You know…”
I said what came to mind.
“You have a really pretty face.”
He smiled, without the slightest embarrassment.
“Even you, Sotoko, are really beautiful.”
I stared at him.
It was the first time I had ever heard him say something like that to me.
On the way back—
The train was crowded, and we ended up standing in the connector between two cars.
It was dim and humid there. The metal plates clattered loudly as they shifted underfoot. We were both lightly dressed, and every time the train swayed, parts of our bodies brushed against each other.
“Hot?” he asked.
That’s when I noticed the sweat running down my skin.
His face was too close. His eyes looked so big.
“N-no, I’m fine,” I said, suddenly embarrassed, looking down.
“Here.”
He handed me a towel.
When I looked up, I realized it had been around his neck just moments before.
“Thanks.”
I wiped the sweat from my face. It smelled like a boy.
And then it hit me.
Do I smell too?
The thought—something I’d never been aware of before—sent a rush of embarrassment through my whole body.
It’s just because it’s hot. Because it’s hot.
I kept making excuses in my head, even as the sweat wouldn’t stop. I could feel something unpleasant under my arms.
The train arrived at Matsuyama Station.
My mouth was completely dry.
I had a dream.
A dream where I was about to be born into this world.
“Which mother will you choose?”
There were so many children, each choosing their own mother. One by one, they entered the bodies of the women who would become their mothers, waving goodbye as they did.
I searched desperately.
Not her. Not her. Not her.
There were so many women.
Where? Where? Where are you?
Panic started to rise.
Not here. Not here. Not here.
Then, I noticed a light above to my right.
I looked—and there she was.
Ah.
That’s her.
I moved toward her.
And then—
“No!”
Someone grabbed my arm.
What? Why?
“You’re going this way.”
I was yanked back, then shoved forward.
Ahead of me stood a different woman.
Carried by the momentum, I stumbled straight into her—into her womb.
From inside, I looked back.
I could see the woman I had chosen, walking away.
“Mom! Mom!”
That’s when I woke up.
My brother was beside me, breathing softly. It was still before dawn.
Slowly, I got up and went to the bathroom.
Sitting on the cold toilet seat, I wondered who that woman in the dream had been.
Maybe she was the one who was supposed to be my mother.
For some reason, that vague thought lingered.
I went back to the room. My brother was still there, sleeping.
If that were true—
then he and I would never have been brother and sister.
Back under the covers, I let my thoughts wander aimlessly.
Beside me, he slept on—peacefully, almost annoyingly so.
