I’ve decided that Fridays are for leaving work on time. I stride through the still-uncrowded bar district, skipping along the way.
I pass under the curtain of an izakaya called “Yamayama-chan” and take a seat the moment it opens.
Then, I toast with a beer in perfect harmony. This classic routine never changes, whether I’m with someone or not.
I order their speciality, fried chicken wings and potato salad, and for my second drink, a lemon chuhai.
As I stretch out in the still-empty counter seat, I feel my mind and body, which were confined in the mold of a corporate employee, relax all at once.
Just as an old man’s sigh-like “Haah” escapes from the top of my head, my smartphone on the table rings.
“What! It’s Keita, what’s wrong?”
The sender of the message was my brother, three years younger than me.
He’s twenty-two and still lives at home. He hadn’t left the house since he was sixteen. But I didn’t think of it as a big problem. Even without friends coming over, it seemed he had people to talk to online.
He wasn’t bitter or taking it out on our family, and he was able to communicate with us about the things he needed to know in life.
Keita was always hunched forward as if staring into an abyss at his feet, and he was just relentlessly dark. But when I caught a glimpse of him during my New Year’s visit home, he looked a little different.
His rounded back was slightly straighter, and I felt his gaze was directed forward.
Only he knows what happened to him or how his inner world changed. But as his older sister, that alone was more than enough to make me happy.
Now, for that same Keita to send me a message was a bolt from the blue.
“Hey. A package will probably arrive tomorrow.”
Even though it was the first message since we were kids, it was only about a dozen characters. The information was sparse.
Where? What kind of package?
While I was tapping the screen with my fingertip, new messages came flooding in one after another.
“I sent you a box of your favorite beers. If it’s too much, you can take some with your friends on a camping trip.”
“Huh?! What’s that about!”
An unexpected piece of news, and my flustered voice echoed through the pub.
“I got some money, you see.”
“Huh, what, what?! What’s that about, hold on! What money?!”
“Three years ago, you bought me clothes with your first paycheck, right? I’m just imitating you. Well, it’s money I earned from a game, though. I got prize money from a tournament.”
Just as a “shupo” notification sound rang out, a picture of Keita standing on the second step of a podium appeared on the screen.
“What, this is a gaming tournament? A picture from the venue? It wasn’t online! Wow, you wore the clothes I gave you there!”
“Don’t worry about a thank you call or anything. I’ll see you at the end of the year.”
“Hyaah hyaah hyaah.”
I couldn’t tell if it was bed head or a cowlick, but his unkempt hair was neatly tied back, and his wrinkle-free light blue shirt and indigo jeans looked as refreshing as a clear sky and the sea.
The same blue as the tattered, almost-torn lounge wear he used to wear.
When did he manage to shed that sweatshirt he always wore, as if he didn’t even have the energy to change clothes?
The hunched back, as if hiding something, was nowhere to be seen.
My brother, holding a silver trophy at shoulder height, looked a little shy. What a beautiful smile.
It was a radiance like the first sunrise.
“Woahhh, of course I’m calling you when I get home! Just you wait, Keita!”
Feeling proud, the buzz from two mugs of beer accelerated. I left the bar in the best mood.
I took random steps, skipping and hopping a little on my way to the station. Even though it was night, the world felt bright. The neon signs, streetlights, and billboards were all sparkling and dazzlingly bright.
It wasn’t until something cold touched the corner of my mouth that I realized my eyes had welled up and tears were falling.
Keita had gone outside on his own accord. What a joyous thing.
I wondered if I should send him something. Or maybe I should gift my parents a trip.
No, wait, what if all four of us go on a trip for the New Year?
As I thought about how to use my small bonus that would be paid in two months, I wove lightly through the bustling crowd.
“Huh? Wait, is that Keita?”
Suddenly, in front of a large, round metal monument I had just passed, a young man was standing. Or rather, leaning against it.
He was tall with a solid build, but his scrawny frame and hunched back were the spitting image of Keita.
His faded cotton sweatpants and sweatshirt also looked familiar. But the messy hair hiding his face didn’t look like Keita’s curly hair, but it looked like bedhead.
“No way…”
The man was drooping, facing downward like a wilted flower exposed to frost.
He was barely standing on his own, and it seemed he needed the monument’s support to maintain his posture.
He looked at the smartphone he had pulled out of his pocket and twisted the corner of his mouth slightly.
“…Are you coming or not? If they don’t come, it’s over…”
A voice of despair, strong enough to hold its form even in the clamor, dropped and was swallowed by the ground at his feet.
I had seen him hunched over, as if peering into an abyss.
Unable to help myself, I made a call.
It’s not Keita, right? Maybe he came to surprise me?
But then, his clothes seemed to have regressed from the picture I just saw.
The phone I held to my ear was ringing, but the pounding in my chest was much louder.
“What’s the matter? I sent you a message telling you not to call.”
Keita’s voice, which came through the phone, was light and airy. The tension in my jaw, which I hadn’t realized I was clenching, released with a puff.
Good, this is the voice I wanted to hear. Keita on the other end of the line was probably pouting in embarrassment.
Meanwhile, the man I glimpsed through the crowd had put his smartphone back in his pocket and was staring at the toes of his dirty slip-ons.
“Hey, sis? Hellooo?”
It’s okay, that person isn’t Keita. Keita on the phone was the same glowing Keita I’d just seen in the picture.
“Keita, you sound so well!”
I turned my sigh of relief into a laugh and started walking again. I didn’t enter the station but leaned against a tiled wall to hear what he was up to.
Of course, I didn’t let on at all that I had mistaken someone for him.
I talked about thanking him for the beer he sent and when he started getting into esports. As we talked, a couple stopped in front of me and seemed to be arguing.
“So, where’s the next guy?”
“Huh? He wasn’t at the East Exit, so I guess he’s at the West Exit.”
“You should have checked which exit was the meeting point landmark, you’re useless.”
“Hah? All you do is show up at the end and threaten the loser with ‘You laid a hand on my girl, huh?’ I’m the one who’s setting everything up like giving advice on SNS, sending DMs, and calling him out. If you talk down to me too much, I’ll tell on my boss.”
A burly man with a Japanese tattoo covering the arm peeking out from his three-quarter sleeve, and a woman who looked like an office worker but had a sloppy vibe with her cleavage showing, did not seem like an ordinary couple.
Did they say “loser”? Giving advice? Calling him out, and threatening?
Judging by their conversation, wasn’t this clearly a honey trap?
“No way…”
“Nee-chan? Did you say something?”
The voice of despair I had just heard overlapped with Keita’s calm voice.
“If he don’t come, it’s over.”
What was that hunched-over man staring at his feet waiting for?
What if it was that kind girl who was giving him advice?
What if the salvation he was longing for was a trap to ensnare him?
What would happen to that hunched boy’s heart?
“Sorry Keita, my train just arrived. I’ll call you again when I get home!”
Without waiting for Keita’s reply, I ended the call and hurried back the way I came.
I reached the metal monument in just a few dozen seconds.
The hunched-over man had his hands in his pockets and was still staring into the abyss.
I cautiously glanced back, but the couple-like figures were no longer there. Good, I made it in time.
My relief was momentary as I regretted my lack of a plan.
What should I say to him?
“Um, excuse me, sir. I’m a passing fortune teller…”
“Huh? …Me?”
He looked up, hunched over, with a puzzled look on his face. But this was the best line I could come up with under the time limit of an approaching villain, so I had to just ride the momentum.
“You, you have the face of death!!”
“Death? What’s death? …Ah, infection disease?”
His hollow eyes suddenly regained focus, and the hunched-over boy, startled, put a hand to his mouth.
Ah, he reacted to my nonsensical words! At this rate, I might be able to talk him into getting away.
“No! Not infection disease! It means a premonition that something that’s going to kill you is about to happen!”
“Huh…?”
“Your face is pale, and your eye bags are deep… This is the face of someone meeting a girl he met on social media! That girl is a bad person!”
The more I tried to act like a fortune teller, the more suspicious and dubious my tone became. But the hunched boy, as if to hide the non-existent face of death, pressed his cheeks and his purplish lips trembled.
“H-hiccup! You can tell that the person I’m meeting is a bad woman…?”
“It’s a honey trap to threaten you, extort money, and then strip you of everything, and do this and that… Look, that suspicious-looking couple over there! Don’t you recognize the girl?”
I added some embellishments to my guess, turned around, and pointed at random. Just then, those couple-like figures were peeking out from behind the bushes in the rotary, watching us.
“Is that Miitan?! …and a scary-looking man!?”
“I knew it! Let’s go!”
My intuition wasn’t wrong. Convinced that I’d made the right choice to speak up, I grabbed the hunched boy’s arm and we started running.
We just sprinted until our lungs hurt, with no clear destination. When we finally stopped, we were crouching in front of the izakaya “Yamayama-chan.”
I was out of breath and it was hard. I cursed my lack of exercise.
However the hunched boy seemed even less physically active than me, who has an office job.
He was sitting on the ground, holding his chest and painfully heaving his shoulders up and down. If he was a shut-in, I felt bad for forcing him to exercise so suddenly, but I hoped he thought it was better than being threatened by a scary man.
I hid behind the illuminated sign of “Yamayama-chan” and spoke to the panting boy.
“You should be safe here. I’m going now, okay? You can’t fall for weird girls on social media anymore, okay? A sweet invitation comes with a scary big brother!”
I stood up once I caught my breath and turned to leave. I was proud that I had saved a boy who looked so much like Keita.
Well, my method wasn’t exactly smart. Okay, I need to get home and continue my phone call with Keita.
As I turned to leave briskly, a firm hand grabbed my wrist from behind.
“Fortune teller, wait a minute.”
The hunched boy stood up tall. Ah, was it because he wasn’t hunched anymore?
I leaned back a little to look up at him.
The hunched boy had a healthy, handsome face. A straight nose bridge. Thin lips. And long eyelashes that framed his clear eyes. On closer inspection, he didn’t look like Keita at all.
“Is something on my face?”
Something on your face? What could that be?
Sweat beer, maybe? Or… Ah!
“No, no. You’re not bleeding from your nose, so you’re fine.”
“No, not nosebleed. I mean face reading. Is there a sign of love on my face?”
“A sign of love?”
I repeated, tilting my head. The hunched boy tilted his head too.
“Wait, is that not what face reading is about?”
Then he responded. “This is the first time my heart has pounded like this in my life. Holding hands and running like that felt like youthful romance, and meeting someone like this feels like fate. Isn’t this pounding in my chest what love is? Hey, you’re a fortune teller who can see the face of death, you should know. Is there a sign of love on my face?”
“Love”? Was he really talking about “love”?
What kind of mindset interprets running from thugs as “youthful romance”?
I gazed intently at the hunched boy’s face. His expression, which had been unclear just a moment ago, now shone with a bright light, even though his face was still pale.
The contrast between the deep bags under his eyes and his rosy lips, which were curved in a smile, was captivating.
His appearance, a mix of desolation and vitality, was beautiful. But it was all so unbalanced, and he looked like a smiling villain from a psychological horror movie.
This guy, he can’t possibly really think this is love, can he?
“T-that pounding in your chest is just your heart rate increasing from the sudden exercise. I don’t think it’s love, you know?”
I tried to casually deflect the thick, gooey atmosphere of affection that was starting to seep out. But the hunched boy’s gaze was so hot it felt like it would burn my skin.
I flinched from the unusual heat, and something cold ran down my back.
“But you look so sparkling, fortune teller?”
“That’s just sweat from running, or grease from my job! It’s not an effect; it’s physics!”
“Haha, I’m soaked in sweat too. I’m happy we match. Hey, I really think I’m in love with you, fortune teller!”
“I’m not a fortune teller, you shouldn’t fall in love with a liar, should you?”
“A girl who lies for a guy is cute, isn’t she?”
Our conversation wasn’t quite connecting. I took a step back, thinking I should just run away, but his grip on my wrist tightened even more.
This is bad. Did I just save a weirdo?
“Hey! You’re in love? That’s definitely a misunderstanding! Maybe it’s the bridge effect or imprinting! Hey, calm down and think it over, it’s definitely not love!”
I shook my hand forcefully, and the restraint on my wrist was released.
The hunched boy stared at his empty palm and let out a voice heavier than the humid air before it rains.
“My chest hurts so much, and this isn’t love? This isn’t fate?”
“I don’t think so…”
“Then why did you help me, big sister? My being threatened by a scary person has nothing to do with you. Was it because you cared about me even a little?”
“Because you looked like my brother…”
“Brother…? You didn’t help me for my sake, but because you mistook me for your brother?”
The light in the hunched boy’s eyes, which had been sparkling, went out. Then he dropped his shoulders like a marionette with its strings cut and started staring at his feet again.
The second cold chill I felt wasn’t on my back but deep in my chest. Hunched boy, that’s not it.
“I didn’t help you because I mistook you for my brother. I just wished that someone who reached out to you wouldn’t be a bad person, just like my brother found his way to start his life again.”
“I see, you’re right. It was my first time running so hard, my first time my heart pounded like this, and my first time being helped by someone… But you didn’t help me because you cared about me… I guess a miracle like that would never happen in my life… Big sister, thank you so much for going out of your way to help me…”
The hunched boy swayed his head and started to trudge away. What, he’s not a weirdo after all.
What should I do? How can I help him?
Should I call out to his fading figure dissolving into the crowd and tell him the truth?
But his “love” just didn’t click with me.
But… But.. What I wanted to do wasn’t to hurt and drive away a sincere boy who had bowed his head like that.
“Hey! How about we grab a drink for now? Let’s forget about whether it’s love or not, just as an acquaintance!”
I shouted, and ran to him with grabbed his wrist then pulled. My right hand, which had just pushed his grasp away, was a little forceful this time.
“Hunched boy, you’re an adult, right!?”
“Ye-ye-ye-yes, I am! Twenty-five!”
“Huh? We’re the same age! Hehe, you’re not my younger brother.”
The hunched boy squinted and gave a soft smile. That natural smile faintly overlapped with the shy face I saw in the picture of Keita.
Well, I guess I can call Keita tomorrow. My Keita is doing fine, so that’s good enough.
When I thought that, I looked up at the boy whose complexion had improved. I thought this wasn’t a bad resolution. And together, we went to under the curtain of “Yamayama-chan.”
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