Becoming Family

It was the night after Chihiro bared her soul to Haruto, and Itsuki still hadn’t heard back from her. He was 99 percent sure of the results, but he couldn’t help but wonder. He texted “How’d it go?” to her.

The text got marked as read about an hour later, but no response came after that. Nor was one waiting for him the next morning. It was the first time Chihiro had ever ghosted a text from him.

She must be depressed after being turned down, huh?

Chihiro must’ve already factored in the near certainty that Haruto wouldn’t reciprocate, but Itsuki supposed she was down about it anyway. He wanted to know some more details, but if he asked something like “Are you sad because he said no?” it’d just be rubbing salt on the wound. He’d have to wait for Chihiro to reply—but even after three days, even after a week, she never contacted him. This really did begin to worry him, so he texted “Doing okay?” to her, not touching on the denial.

After about fifteen minutes:

“Ummmmmmm…?”

The unexpectedly poetic reply made Itsuki scratch his head. After pondering the issue for a bit, he decided to ignore the prose and text back “How’s the studying coming along?”

“Wowww…”

Itsuki blushed a bit. This was more embarrassing to read than write.

…I never really fell into this grimdark kind of prose, did I? Terms like “void” and “emptiness” are cool and all, and I’ve written stuff like it before. But whenever I had love problems in middle school, I just covered it up with little-sister fandom, so my actual behavior never went in that direction.

I wanna ask…like, does she actually think that stuff is cool?

But it felt like that would just hurt Chihiro further. Fending off the bubbling urge, he decided to send “Isn’t it annoying to type out all those periods?”

About five minutes after it was marked as read:

Now there were even more.

No… You gotta hold back…! Chihiro is (probably) seriously hurt… Don’t laugh at her…

He knew the pain of losing love. That’s why he really was concerned…but seeing Chihiro descend to depths of cringe-inducing grimness like none before was honestly pretty funny to him.

After a few moments of debating over whether to get serious or tell a joke, he opted for the harmless “What are you doing now?” instead. The answer came quickly.

“‘…………Building a Gundam model……………’? Dude, study.”

He couldn’t help but say it out loud. Admittedly, building models was a good way to shut off your mind and distract yourself from your troubles. But…

Maybe I should try building one. It’s been a while.

As he thought to himself—

“What’s wrong, big bro?”

Aoba, who was over at Itsuki’s place cooking for him, seemed puzzled.

“Hmm… I dunno… My sister Chihiro’s turned into a mopey poet.”

“Huh? Chihiro?”

Aoba went from puzzled to downright confused.

Itsuki lifted up his hands. “No, I mean, she’s going through some hard stuff, and I think her feelings are hurt right now. She can’t even focus on her studying.”

“Oh really? That sounds worrying…”

“Yeah…but there’s not much I can do about it, so…”

“What are you talking about, big bro?” Aoba said, a bit of annoyance in her voice.

“Huh?”

“You need to go over and cheer her up.”

Go over and cheer her up. It was an option that had never occurred to Itsuki.

“Go over…? But, um, I actually don’t get along with my parents too well, so I haven’t been back home in ages… Besides, I don’t see what trying to cheer her up in person would do…”

“Well, I don’t know what your family situation is,” Aoba sternly replied, “but if a big brother won’t do anything for his little sister when she’s hurt, then I hate that. I’d like to think all the heroes of your novels would drop everything and go over to help their sisters.”

“…!”

It was like being struck by lightning. All his protagonists were crazy for their sisters to a repulsive degree. They had real erotic feelings for their own sisters. It was just wrong. But still…if their sister was crying, they’d come to her side, no matter what. That, he thought, would never be the wrong thing for a brother to do.

“…Yeah.”

Itsuki stood up. If he didn’t go now, he thought, he’d forever lose the right to compose another word of All About My Little Sister or Sisterly Combat.

“I’ll put dinner in the fridge, okay? See you later, big bro.”

“Sure thing. Thanks, Aoba.”

With that, Itsuki quickly got himself out the door.

Picking up a taxi near his apartment, he rode in it for about half an hour before reaching a house with HASHIMA on a sign by the door.

The last time Itsuki had come here was when he went to the aquarium with Chihiro—a good eighteen months ago, and even then, he just went up to the house and left without going in. Realistically speaking, he hadn’t come home in three and a half years, after he’d started living alone.

Leaving the taxi, he took a deep breath, stood in front of the gate, and took another deep breath. Then, ever so carefully, he pushed the button by the nameplate. He had a key to the place, but he couldn’t just help himself inside after being gone three and a half years.

He could hear the doorbell ring inside, followed by a woman’s voice saying “Hello?” on the intercom above the button. It belonged to Natsume Hashima, Chihiro’s mother and the second woman Itsuki’s father had married. “Who’s calling?”

The sun had long set and there was no front light by the gate, so she probably couldn’t see it was Itsuki through the monitor. There was no way she could’ve forgotten his face entirely.

“Um,” he nervously began, “it’s Itsuki.”

“Huh? Itsuki?!” came the surprised reply.

“Yes.”

“J-just one moment!”

“Okay.”

With a click, she turned off the intercom. About a minute later, the front door slowly opened. From behind it emerged a stern-looking man, eyebrows turned downward—Keisuke Hashima.

Itsuki gulped nervously. He no longer had any negative feelings toward his father. Even if Chihiro hadn’t forced his hand today, he felt it was about time he started talking to his dad again. But they hadn’t exchanged words for so long, he couldn’t help but tense up.

Keisuke approached the gate, opening it.

“…Itsuki?”

“…Yeah.”

“…It’s been a while, huh?”

“…Yeah.”

“…What’s going on?”

“…I came to see Chihiro.”

They both looked dour, awkwardly using as few words as possible to communicate.

“Well, come in.”

“Okay.”

Itsuki removed his shoes and went inside—his first visit in three and a half years. He was so nervous the whole trip over, but now that he was in, it didn’t seem like any trouble at all. He wasn’t particularly moved by the experience—he was back home, and that was it. To him, it wasn’t a place to “visit” quite yet, he supposed. It was still “going home.”

Then:

“…Do you know what’s up with Chihiro?” Keisuke asked.

“…You didn’t hear?”

Keisuke shook his head. “We asked, but she won’t tell us.”

“…How’s she doing?”

“She came home a week ago sobbing. She’s going to school, but for the most part she just holes up in her room.”

“Is she eating?”

“Yeah. Better than usual.”

“Oh…”

He thought the sadness might’ve ruined her appetite, but apparently the opposite was true. Her coping mechanism, he figured, as he entered the living/dining room.

“It’s good to see you again, Itsuki.” Natsume greeted him with a soft smile and a relaxed voice.

“Y-yeah…” Itsuki nodded his head at her.

She had a notable bump by now. They had found out she was pregnant back in June and she was two months in by then, so this put her at month number eight. When she’d first come to this house, Natsume left Itsuki with the impression of a suave, beautiful woman, but as she got used to her new life, her aura grew softer and softer. Now, after three and a half years, she had rounded out a bit and seemed like just another nice, friendly woman around the neighborhood.

“Um… Congratulations on the pregnancy,” Itsuki said.

Natsume frowned a bit. “Why so formal? She’ll be your new little sister.”

“Little sister… She’s a girl?”

“That’s right.”

First, he had a stepsister. Now he’d have an actual half sister, connected by blood. Yet another reason to turn his attention away from his novels, full of guys romancing their little sisters.

“Did you eat dinner, Itsuki?”

“Oh, not yet.”

“Well, we’re about to eat now, so why don’t you join us? Dad cooked tonight.”

“Huh?!”

Surprised, Itsuki turned toward Keisuke. His father was a workaholic, and Itsuki had never once seen him cook.

“…I’ve learned a little from Chihiro. I cook on my days off nowadays.”

He was as stern as always, but there was a touch of self-aware embarrassment about him.

“He got a lot better than me in no time. I practically lost my place in the kitchen,” pouted Natsume.

“Don’t look at me,” Keisuke retorted.

“We’ll be ready in a bit, Itsuki, so go wash up.”

“Oh, okay…”

Itsuki went to the bathroom to wash his hands, as directed. Returning to the dining room, he found Keisuke nimbly putting food on each plate while Natsume ferried them to the table.

“You help too, Itsuki,” said Keisuke.

It’d be too awkward to just sit and let a pregnant woman do all the work, so Itsuki meekly followed the command.

On the table were brown rice, miso soup with freshwater clams, mackerel simmered in miso, spinach and chicken boiled in soy sauce, and a vegetable salad. Itsuki wasn’t sure if they had enough food for one more setting, but there were still a few slices of mackerel left after all four plates were on the table, and everything else had extras, too. Keisuke must’ve been cooking for tomorrow as well.

Once everything was laid out, Natsume left the dining room and called upstairs.

“Chihiroooo! Dinner’s ready!”

In another moment, Itsuki heard footsteps heading down.

…Oh, she can leave her room okay…?

He’d been anticipating camping out in front of Chihiro’s door and giving her a pep talk through it. This kind of threw him.

After a bit more, Chihiro sluggishly staggered into the living rom. She was in brown sweats, her hair unkempt, and she had a spaced-out sort of expression. A decal from a Gundam model was stuck on her cheek. Itsuki had never seen her so disheveled.

She slowly approached the dinner table—then froze when she saw Itsuki.

“Huh?! Wha—? Ah, uh, ah, huh…?!”

“H-hey.”

Itsuki greeted her, feeling just as awkward for seeing her like this. Chihiro blushed deeply, shivering as tears came to her eyes.

“I-Itsuki… Why…?!”

“Well, you know, I was worried about you.”

“This—this is too sudden…!”

“Can you wash your face, please?” Natsume asked.

Keisuke, Natsume, and Itsuki all sat down, followed by Chihiro when she returned from the bathroom—hair fixed, but head still hung low. Keisuke and Natsume sat next to each other, their children facing them across the table.

“Now,” Natsume said first, “before we begin… Dad?”

“Hmm…?” The stern Keisuke looked at her.

“You told me before that you had something to say to Itsuki whenever he came back home, didn’t you?”

“Oh yeah,” the sheepish Keisuke muttered as he looked straight at the confused Itsuki.

“Wh-what…?”

Itsuki wasn’t sure where to look. Keisuke took a deep breath.

“…I’m sorry. About the whole gender thing with Chihiro.” He bowed his head to him.

Itsuki was dumbfounded. His father had never apologized to him about anything his whole life.

“We’re really sorry, Itsuki,” Natsume said, bowing her own head.

“Ah, p-put your heads back up! You too, Dad…”

Having your own parents bow to you was just beyond awkward. Itsuki hurriedly asked them to stop, and as he did, he said, “…I’m not angry at all.”

That was the truth.

After reading his debut novel Sister of the Apocalypse, they were so concerned about Itsuki that they’d accepted Chihiro’s offer to pass as a boy around him. In Itsuki’s mind, their concern was justified. If he had been in their position, he probably would’ve made the same choice. That’s how disgusting that novel was.

Lifting their heads, Keisuke and Natsume carefully studied Itsuki’s face. He gave them a soft chuckle back.

“It’s fine! It’s all in the past anyway… But thanks for letting me eat with you.” He speedily took up his chopsticks and tried some of the mackerel. “…Mmm. Good stuff. You really made this, Dad…?”

He gave his honest opinion as he faced his father. Keisuke gave a self-satisfied little harrumph in response.

The rest of the family quickly joined in, Chihiro going last out of hesitation. They ate in silence for a little while, but suddenly Keisuke stopped and spoke up.

“…By the way, Chihiro, do you think you can finally tell us what happened?”

“…!” Chihiro’s shoulders twitched. She put down her chopsticks and fell silent.

Keisuke sighed. “…Well, you don’t have to if you don’t want. But Itsuki’s here and all, you know, so I just want you to feel better.”

“…” Chihiro didn’t react.

“It’s all right,” Natsume replied in a friendly tone. “I’m sure it’s her first love, so…”

“Wha?!”

“Fweh?!”

Keisuke was stunned into silence, while Chihiro stared at Natsume, eyes wide open.

“M-m-mmmmommm… H-how did you know…?!”

She shook as she asked, face bright red.

“Because,” Natsume casually responded, “you got all made up, you went out, and then you came back home crying. It’s pretty easy to assume you put yourself out there, and he said no.”

“Itsuki! Is that true?” his father asked.

Itsuki reflexively nodded. “Um, well, yeah.”

“Itsukiiiii…”

“S-sorry.”

The hot burn of Chihiro’s reproachful eyes drove him to apologize.

“Wait, this other man isn’t…”

“No!”

“No, Dad!”

They both shouted at once the moment they spotted the question in Keisuke’s eyes.

“Well,” reasoned Natsume, “if you know who it is, Itsuki, is it one of your friends? A fellow writer?”

“Y-yeah,” Itsuki nodded.

“Ugghhh! Mommmm!!” Chihiro was tearing up. “Just stop already…”

“Chihiro,” Itsuki said to his downtrodden sister. “Didn’t you know from the start he’d say no?”

“…Yeah…but it was so much harder than I thought it’d be… I’m amazed how calmly Kani and Miyako dealt with it.”

“…”

They weren’t calm about it at all, actually. But Nayuta was an unusual girl by any standard, and even Miyako had gained—and lost—love a few times in her life, Itsuki thought. Chihiro just had far too little experience as a “girl,” was all. She’d lived until the age of eighteen without knowing how romantic love felt—and part of the cause of that was Itsuki himself.

“…Sorry.”

“Hweh? About what?”

Itsuki smiled a bit at the flummoxed Chihiro. “Nah, I mean… If there’s anything I can do to help you out, just say the word, okay?”

“Um, okay… Thanks, Itsuki…”

Chihiro flashed a weak smile of her own, and Itsuki felt it was time to ask the question that continued to nag him.

“…By the way, what was with that crappy poetry you texted me?”

Her face started to burn all over again. “……It… It was my way of saying ‘my heart’s fallen into darkness, so let me be’…”

Apparently this was a serious case of edgy-teen-itis.

“Well, it didn’t work. If I read something like that, of course I’m gonna be worried.”

“Ohhh…”

Itsuki smiled at his groaning sister. “…But thanks to that, I finally summoned the energy to come here, so it’s all good.”

“Yeah…” Chihiro lifted her head up, wiping a tear away. “This has always been a dream to me. The four of us together, eating like this…so…!” Suddenly her face twisted up, a large tear running down one cheek. “So…thank you… Itsuki…”

“…You’re welcome.”

Itsuki reached out and gently caressed Chihiro’s head—and Keisuke and Natsume watched the siblings in action, contentment on their faces.

After finishing her dinner, Chihiro tried going right back to her room. Keisuke stopped her, suggesting they should talk more while everyone was here, but Chihiro just smiled.

“I gotta make up for lost time with my exam prep… And something tells me we’ll have a lot more chances to eat together from now on, won’t we?”

Itsuki nodded. She acknowledged it with a happy nod back.

“Honey,” Natsume said after Chihiro left the table, “would you like something to drink for a change of pace? You, too, Itsuki. I can’t drink right now, of course, and your father’s given up alcohol during the pregnancy, too. But just this once won’t hurt you, will it?”

Keisuke gave his son a glance. “Hmm…mm… Well? Want a drink, Itsuki?”

After a bit of thought…

“…Ah, um, sure. I’ll take one.”

“…All right. Well…let’s, then.”

“Sure.”

“What would you like?” Natsume asked, smiling. “Beer? Sake? Shochu?”

“Do you have any Belgian beer?”

“Nothing that fancy,” Keisuke retorted.

“Oh… Sake, then.”

There was mackerel and chicken left on the table—a good pairing with Japanese sake.

“Right.” Keisuke stood up and took out an isshobin (a traditional 1.8-liter bottle) of sake with two cups. It was already opened, but only about a quarter of it was consumed.

“Well, I’ll leave you two be…”

Natsume picked up her dishes and brought them to the sink. Keisuke placed a cup in front of Itsuki, filled it up, then poured some sake into his own.

…Should we toast or something?

He pondered this as he took the cup, trying to steal a glance at his father. Their eyes met—Dad seemed to be considering the same question. After a moment, though, he silently brought the cup to his lips. Itsuki followed his lead. It was a crisp, dry junmai-shu, and while Itsuki preferred his sake with a little more personality—tarter, maybe, or fruitier—a nice, approachable one like this might be better as a regular after-dinner thing.

So Itsuki washed down the chicken and spinach with some sake.

“…How’ve you been lately?” the dour Keisuke asked.

“Oh… The same.”

Keisuke’s eyebrow twitched up. “…Your book got delayed, didn’t it?”

“Ah—why do you know that…?”

“I keep an eye on your release dates, at least.”

“Oh… You do?”

It embarrassed his dad a little. He covered for it by finishing his cup of sake in one gulp.

“…Well, it’s all right,” Itsuki said as he poured himself another. “It’ll all work out.”

“…Ah.” Keisuke looked closely at his son. “…Well, hang in there.”

“…!”

Something about what he said made Itsuke’s eyes well up a bit. Here was his dad—the man who’d yelled at him after his manuscript got picked in that contest; who all but disowned him after reading his first book—and now he was voicing support for him. It surprised Itsuki how happy that made him feel.

“By the way…,” Keisuke continued.

“Yeah?”

“It sounds like you’re seeing someone?”

“……Yeah.” Itsuki nodded, blushing hard.

“You planning to marry her?”

“……S-someday.”

It felt incredibly awkward, but he managed to squeak out the word.

“Someday when?”

“We—we don’t know yet…”

…They had barely spoken in years, and all of a sudden, his dad was getting way too in-depth with him. It felt weird.

“…What about you?”

“Hmm?”

“What made you decide to take the plunge with…with Chihiro’s mom?”

Itsuki wasn’t just trying to change the subject. He thought Keisuke might have a hint as to when to pop the question to Nayuta.

“……Do you wanna know?” he replied, in a dead serious tone of voice.

“Ah… Well, you know, just for an idea…”

“…Hmm…” Keisuke drained his own cup and poured out another. “…All right. I’ll tell you.”

So, as he sipped at his sake, Keisuke began to tell his son about how he came to be with Natsume. The way she found him blacked out on the street in winter. The way he impulsively ran to her place when he heard she quit her job. The way he looked at this woman, someone he wasn’t even officially dating, and casually said “Will you marry me?” out of nowhere…

“What is this, some hipster drama?!”

Itsuki couldn’t help but poke fun at the story. He was just kind of curious about it, but it was a surprisingly dramatic, romantic tale—and it was his father telling him. His head was going to explode.

“I can’t just blurt out the question like that!”

“Heh……I’m kind of embarrassed about it, too,” his dad admitted, cheeks a bit red from the sake.

“But… Oh man. Really? Who are you, Yuji Oda or Yosuke Eguchi or something?”

That’s what it felt like to Itsuki—a drama starring one or another of Japan’s greatest male leads. He took a drink, slumped back in his chair, and looked up at the ceiling.

…There was a hero in that story, too.

The strength seemed to drain from him. He could feel a weird kind of smile come to his face. It was so ridiculous. Here he was, missing out on love, struggling to become the hero, and his own father was living out a prime-time drama the whole time.

“But enough about that, Itsuki.”

“Guhh?”

“This man who turned Chihiro down… What’s he like?”

Itsuki sat up and examined Keisuke’s face again. His eyes were fully glazed over now. It was scary.

“What’s he like…? Well, he’s a friend who got his first novel published the same time I did… He’s a nice guy. He’s tall, he’s handsome… He had his first novel series made into an anime, he’s twenty-four years old, he’s making a steady ten million yen or so a year… From an impartial point of view, he’s a super-good catch.”

“…Mmm… I can see why Chihiro fell in love with him, then.”

“…I agree with you.”

Haruto was a totally different story from him. He thought he had finally caught up to his best friend/rival, but then had taken a misstep.

“But!” Keisuke rapped on the table.

“Y-yeah?!”

“Even with a super guy like him, I’m sure Chihiro can more than cut it! What was so wrong about her in his eyes?!”

“Um… Not ‘wrong,’ really…but there’s this other girl he’s had a crush on for a while.”

“What? Do you know this girl, too?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s she like?”

“…Well, she’s really something, too. She’s a college student, but she’s super popular, everybody on the editorial team trusts her, and lots of writers and manga artists treat her as their big sister. She’s saved my ass a lot of times, too.”

“The super girl for the super guy, huh? So why don’t they get together?”

“…Well, I’m sure she’s got her reasons…” Itsuki hated to admit that he had turned her down.

“Mmmmm… Sounds like you got a lot of drama in your friend circle.”

“Maybe so…”

A smile came to his lips—maybe self-deriding, maybe proud.

“Right! Itsuki, call up that super guy for me right now. This isn’t gonna sit right with me until I give him a word or two!”

“What are you talking about, Dad…?” Itsuki chuckled. “…But I like it!”

He took out his phone, having drunk enough that his usual good judgment was failing him. He brought up Haruto’s entry in his phone book and tapped on the number. Another few seconds, and they were connected.

“Oh… Hey, Itsuki. What’s up?”

Haruto sounded a little reticent over the phone. Chihiro must have been weighing on his mind. Keisuke was motioning at Itsuki, so he put the phone on speaker mode and placed it on the table.

“Itsuki?” Haruto asked.

Keisuke leaned over a bit. “Hello there. This is Chihiro Hashima’s father.”

“Huhhh?!”

“Yeah, my dad wants to talk to you,” Itsuki said, holding back his laughter.

“Huhhh?! Itsuki, are… Are you serious?!”

“I hear that you’ve been very, verrrryyyyy kind to our Chihiro.”

“N-no, um, Chihiro’s, I mean, she’s been very kind to me, too, so…”

“So what don’t you like about her?”

“No, it’s not that! I think she’s a wonderful girl! It’s just that I’ve already decided on someone, so…!”

“Mmm. And are things proceeding along with this other someone?”

“Ahh, well, not exactly, no…”

Itsuki put his head down on the table, laughing at the flailing Haruto. But just then, he heard the thump-thump-thump of someone bolting down the stairs. Chihiro came bursting in, her face bright red.

“D-Daaaaaad! What’re you doing?!”

The speaker volume must’ve been turned up too high, because apparently Haruto’s voice made it to Chihiro’s room.

“I’m talking with the man who turned you down right now,” Keisuke said, totally serious and also totally drunk.

Chihiro looked down at the phone. Haruto Fuwa, it said. She panicked.

“F-Fuwa, I—I—I’m sorry! I think my dad’s had too much to drink!”

“Oh, um, okay…” Haruto sounded like he had no idea what to do.

“I…I’ll talk to you later!”

Chihiro reached out to off turn the phone before glaring at Keisuke and Itsuki.

“I can’t believe you guys! Why did you do something like that?! You’re so stupid, Dad! And what’s gotten into you, Itsuki?!”

Keisuke and Itsuki both winced at the menace that was a truly angry Chihiro.

“Oh, um… We kinda got carried away,” said Itsuki.

“You got carried away?! You’re always so terrible with that kind of thing, Itsuki!”

“Sorry about that…”

“Now, now, Chihiro, don’t be so angry.” Keisuke’s advice only made her angrier.

“Of course I’m going to be angry at this! Dad, if you do something like this again, I’ll never speak to you for the rest of my life!”

“I don’t want that… I’m sorry.”

“Ugh! You’re so stupid!”

She stormed back into her room, leaving the two of them to sit there, regretful for a few moments. Then:

“…Wanna drink it off?”

“Sounds good,” Itsuki said, filling his cup.

They spent the rest of the evening talking. For the most part, it was about their respective jobs—a fascinating topic for Itsuki, because he didn’t know much about Keisuke’s line of work. They stayed up late into the night, as if making up for the blank of the past few years…but given how drunk they got, they had forgotten about most of it by the next morning.