Episode 4: “So, I was asked to run an errand by my stepmother…”

Akira’s transfer exam was over, and August had finally rolled in.

With his summer break officially underway, Akira had taken to lounging around the house, his days a blur of lazy freedom. Yet, amidst the idle haze, a couple of small but pleasant changes had crept into our routine.

For one, Akira had started dropping by my room to borrow manga. We shared a taste in stories, which made it easy to swap volumes back and forth. It was a quiet kind of bond, one I hadn’t expected to grow so naturally.

The second change was even better: Akira had begun hanging out in the living room more often, challenging me to video games.

“Akira, how about we shelve Ensamu 2 for good? Or, y’know, seal it away in some cursed vault forever?”

“Whaaat? And put an end to my eternal winning streak?”

“That just means my losing streak gets updated forever. My misery’s piling up with no end in sight…”

Akira’s fiercely competitive, never easing up even when I’m clearly outmatched. Honestly, I’d given up on winning ages ago. The kid’s a monster—especially when he picks Nakazawa Koto. With that character in his hands, I’m convinced I wouldn’t stand a chance in a million years.

They say the great swordsman Miyamoto Musashi stayed undefeated by only picking fights he could win. Smart strategy. Too bad I’m stuck playing the dutiful older brother, throwing myself into hopeless battles for Akira’s amusement. If I think of it as practice for charming clients in the working world someday, maybe it’s not so bad—

“Hey, wait, you little—chaining that ‘flip’ into an air combo is just dirty!” I protested, watching my character get juggled helplessly.

“It’s totally fair. If anything, it’s your fault for not guarding.”

My poor Yoshinobu was trapped in an endless air combo—yep, he’s done for.

“‘I won’t marry someone weaker than me. If you want me, you’ll have to beat me,’” Akira declared, pointing at me sharply while mimicking Nakazawa Koto’s iconic line. It was, frankly, kind of infuriating.

“Damn it! Next time, I’m definitely making you my bride!”

“What, is that a proposal? No way I’m marrying you, Aniki~!”

“Who’d want to marry you?! I’m talking about the game, you brat!”

“Ugh…” Why is he making such a disappointed face? You’re a guy, aren’t you?

“Fine, I’m throwing you into Yoshinobu’s secret ending, ‘The Ooku Harem’! I’m the shogun here, so don’t underestimate me!”

“That’s the worst—oh, gotcha!”

“Guh!?”

Is this kid a demon or something?

Even though I’m clearly no match, Akira never complains about playing with me. Lately, he’s been the one dragging me into these matches, and I can’t help but feel a flicker of warmth at that. It’s nice, knowing he wants to hang out.

Still, why is it that every game we play turns into a competitive slugfest? Part of me wonders if he just enjoys beating me into the digital dirt. On the flip side, when we team up for co-op games, we tear through stages with ease, thanks to his skills. Those half-forgotten game cartridges, gathering dust for years, have been brought back to life. To the developers: sorry for neglecting them until now.

Dad and Miyuki-san never commented on our gaming sessions. They probably didn’t want to jinx the rare sight of us siblings getting along.

But that day, something felt a little different.

＊ ＊ ＊

While Akira and I were locked in our usual gaming showdown, Miyuki-san’s hesitant voice broke through the clatter of controllers.

“Akira, sorry to interrupt, but could you run a quick errand for me…?”

Her strained smile betrayed the exhaustion etched into her face, no doubt from her grueling work schedule. I’d recently learned that Miyuki-san, a freelance makeup artist, was just as swamped as Dad—if not more. Between doing makeup for movies and TV dramas, her August was booked solid. Yet, despite her gentle nature, she poured herself into her work with fierce dedication, never cutting corners on household chores either. It worried me, seeing her push herself so hard.

Dad, meanwhile, was often absent, his construction site stalled, forcing him to stay overnight there more frequently. I was used to it, so it didn’t faze me much.

Akira, sprawled lazily across the floor, let out a dramatic groan. “Ugh… what a hassle.”

I couldn’t help but wonder if all good-looking guys, like Kousei, were just natural-born slackers.

“Please, Akira,” Miyuki-san murmured, her smile lacking its usual warmth. Even with makeup, the dark circles under her eyes stood out starkly. “Let Mama rest a little…”

“But I’m not really familiar with the area…”

I nodded to myself, understanding. His complaint about it being a hassle wasn’t the real issue. Akira wasn’t confident about navigating somewhere new. It reminded me of Kousei, who’d grumble “what a pain” whenever faced with something unfamiliar—though in his case, it might just be pure laziness.

Then I remembered: Akira got lost the very first day we met. No wonder he was hesitant to run an errand alone. That settled it.

“Miyuki-san, I’ll go instead.”

“Ryouta-kun, are you sure?”

“Yeah, of course. And don’t hesitate to ask me next time, okay?”

“Thank you, Ryouta-kun. I’ll leave it to you, then.”

I turned to Akira, who was still lounging on the floor. “Hey, Akira, wanna come with me? I’ll show you around town.”

“Huh? Me too?”

“You’re living here now, so it’s good to know what’s around, right?”

“Well, yeah, I guess…”

“You went to the supermarket and drugstore before coming to our place, didn’t you? There are other useful shops to know about too. What do you say?”

“…Okay, I’ll go with you.”

I glanced at Miyuki-san and caught her eye. Her face lit up with a bright, grateful smile as she nodded, clearly pleased.

“Alright, give me a sec to write down what I need you to buy—” she said, already reaching for a notepad.

＊ ＊ ＊

While Miyuki-san jotted down the shopping list, Akira and I got ready to head out. It hit me that this would be the first time we’d gone out together. Maybe that’s why a small spark of excitement flickered in my chest. If Akira was cool with hanging out, I could already imagine us hitting up an arcade or browsing a bookstore together sometime.

“Man, what should I even wear?” I muttered, staring into my closet. Most of my clothes were decent enough, but a good chunk were hand-me-downs from Dad’s work sites. There was this one ridiculously flashy shirt, supposedly worn by some actor on set, that I’d need serious courage to pull off in public. I wasn’t exactly a fashion icon, and bold outfits weren’t my thing.

Besides, this wasn’t a date with a girl—just a quick errand run with my little brother. Simple was best. Something that wouldn’t draw eyes.

“Eh, whatever. Guess I’ll go with the usual…” I sighed, grabbing my standard plain shirt and pants.

When I stepped out of my room, I nearly bumped into Akira, who’d just emerged from his.

“You ready?”

“Yup,” he replied, dressed in his usual baggy outfit: a hoodie that swallowed his frame despite the summer heat, paired with tight jeans. The same getup he’d worn when we first met.

“That’s what you’re wearing?” I wasn’t one to judge fashion, but still.

“It’s what I’m used to…”

“Isn’t it hot?”

“Not really…”

“Really? You should probably care more about fashion, though. You’ve got a face that could totally be popular, you know.”

“I-I don’t care about being popular!” Akira’s face flushed red, his voice rising in a flustered protest. It was kind of adorable.

“You sure? Seems like a waste to me,” I teased, though I kept my self-deprecating thought to myself: I could wear whatever and still not be popular. Admitting that to Akira would feel like handing him a victory, and my pride couldn’t take the hit.

“Alright, let’s go.”

“Yup.”

We headed downstairs, where Miyuki-san handed us the shopping list, some cash, and two big reusable bags. The list was long but manageable—everything could be grabbed at one supermarket. Having Akira along meant we could split the load, which was a relief.

I waited by the entrance while Akira slipped on his sneakers. Just as he stepped out, he tripped on the threshold.

“Kyah!”

“Whoa!” I lunged forward, catching him before he hit the ground.

“You okay?”

“Y-Yeah, I’m fine…”

“Hey, Akira… did you just say ‘Kyah!’?”

He froze, clearly mortified. That was totally a girl’s squeal.

“I just said it by accident! Don’t laugh!”

“Also, you’re kinda… soft, huh?” I couldn’t help but notice when I caught him. His frame felt surprisingly delicate under that baggy hoodie. So that’s why he always dressed like that, I thought, nodding to myself.

“S-Shut up! And where do you think you’re touching?!”

Okay, yeah, teasing him about his figure was a low blow. He’s at that awkward age, after all. I’d gone too far.

＊ ＊ ＊

As we strolled toward the supermarket, I glanced at Akira walking beside me, his expression still a bit sour from my earlier teasing. I figured I’d try to smooth things over.

“My bad, my bad. If it bothered you, I’m sorry. But you should probably work out a bit more.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Lately, you’re always just lazing around. Sprawled out on the living room floor, messing with your phone or reading manga. And when you’re in your room, you’re probably just napping, right?”

“Ugh…”

“Tripping on that step earlier? Classic sign of not getting enough exercise.”

Akira’s face twisted like I’d struck a nerve, his lips pursed in a pout.

“You’re way too careless. Though, I’m kinda glad you’re letting your guard down.”

“Glad?”

“Yeah. At first, it felt like you were pushing me away. Like you were super guarded or something.”

“Oh…”

I thought back to our first meeting, how distant he’d seemed, like he was sizing me up from behind an invisible wall.

—Look, I’m gonna say this upfront, but I’m not here for any cozy bonding.

Akira’s expression shifted, a flicker of guilt crossing his face as if he, too, was recalling our awkward first meeting.

“Don’t worry about back then. Dad and I aren’t holding it against you.”

“No, I really feel bad for acting like that out of nowhere…”

“I said don’t worry about it. You’ve been playing games with me lately, right? Seeing you let your guard down makes me happy as your big brother. Makes me feel like you’re starting to trust me.”

“Aniki…”

“But you could stand to let your guard down even more, you know? Like this!”

“Waah!” he yelped as I slung my arm around his shoulders, pulling him close.

At about 160 cm with narrow shoulders, Akira fit perfectly under my arm. A faint scent of soap drifted up, making me suddenly self-conscious about whether I smelled like sweat.

“H-Hey, quit messing around, Aniki!” Akira protested, his face flushing bright red. He squirmed but didn’t pull away, caught somewhere between discomfort and confusion.

“I’m not messing around. This is my brotherly affection.”

Akira curled in on himself, his cheeks still burning, clearly unsure how to handle the gesture. He didn’t shove me off, though, which I took as a small win.

“Aniki, do you… do this with everyone?”

“Nah, just you.”

“—!?”

“Or maybe because it’s you,” I added. Kousei’s taller than me, so this wouldn’t feel right with him. Hinata? No way, that’s out of the question. Honestly, with my small circle of close friends, Akira was probably the only one I could be this casual with.

“Okay, but walking like this is kinda embarrassing…”

“Yeah? Alright, I’ll stop.” I released him, noting the lingering flush on his face.

Maybe draping my arm around him in public was a bit much. But since he didn’t outright reject it, I figured he might be warming up to me. I wanted us to keep getting closer as siblings, and I hoped Akira felt the same way.

＊ ＊ ＊

As we maneuvered a cart through the supermarket, tossing items from Miyuki-san’s list into the basket, Akira piped up, his tone skeptical.

“By the way, Aniki, is there even a point to this?”

“Dunno. I read about it somewhere, but I’m not sure if it actually works.”

We were weaving through the aisles clockwise.

Apparently, supermarkets are designed with some ‘human counterclockwise rule,’ where products are laid out to encourage a counterclockwise flow. Something about it being easier to grab items with your right hand or feeling natural because your heart’s on the left side—there were a bunch of theories.

The idea was that moving counterclockwise makes customers linger, picking up stuff they don’t need. Going clockwise, on the other hand, was supposed to cut your time in the store and keep you from grabbing extras. That’s what I’d read, anyway.

I wasn’t convinced it made a difference. Back when it was just Dad and me, we never cared about how long we spent in the supermarket. We’d chuck whatever looked good into the cart—expiration dates and prices be damned—and head to the checkout. That was the Majima men’s way, living with zero regard for budgeting.

But now, with four of us in the house, things were different. Our parents seemed to make decent money, but with Akira and me so close in age, college costs were looming. I wanted to ease the financial burden however I could. This was my way of being a good son.

“—So, Aniki, what’s that in your hand?” Akira’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

I glanced down, realizing I was clutching a bag of snacks not on the list.

“Hey, gaming wears out your brain, right? Gotta refuel with some sugar while we play.”

“At least say it’s for studying…”

“Says the guy who snuck an energy drink into the cart.”

“That’s for staying up late to study…”

“Liar. You’re staying up to play mobile games, aren’t you?”

Akira let out a groan, clearly caught red-handed.

“Energy drinks are loaded with sugar, you know. Don’t come crying to me when you get chubby.”

“I-I’m not getting chubby!”

We bickered pointlessly in the snack aisle, our voices mingling with the hum of the supermarket.

＊ ＊ ＊

After checking out, Akira and I left the supermarket and headed home.

“Here.” I broke a tube-shaped ice cream, ‘Pakico,’ in half and handed one to Akira.

[T/N: Pakico is most likely a reference to Papico, an ice cream brand.]

“Thanks…” Akira mumbled, taking the ice cream tube I gave him and sucked on it with a faint slurp. Now we were accomplices in our little snack crime.

“Man, Miyuki-san’s really something, huh?”

“What do you mean?”

“This list. Don’t you notice anything about it?”

“…That she’s kinda old but still uses cutesy character stationery?”

“No way! Don’t diss her age or taste! I mean the order of the list.”

“Huh?”

I’d picked up on it while we were shopping, but he hadn’t noticed. “It’s not just a random list. It’s written in the order you’d move through the supermarket.”

“What!?”

From vegetables to meat, fish, prepared foods, and daily necessities—Miyuki-san had clearly thought about the store’s layout and efficiency when she wrote it. That’s why even a couple of amateurs like us could find everything so easily. Though, since we went clockwise, we’d worked from the bottom of the list up instead of top-down. If we’d followed it in order, we might’ve been even quicker.

In other words, the whole clockwise trick was pointless. With a list this well-organized, we wouldn’t have grabbed extra stuff anyway—yet we still ended up with snacks, so the strategy didn’t matter one bit. Next time I’m sent on errands, I’ll try following the list in order. Though, knowing me, I’ll probably toss in something extra again…

“Maybe it’s because Mom used to work part-time at a supermarket?”

“Even a freelance makeup artist had such humble beginnings, huh?”

“I think it was around the time she and Dad split up…”

“Got it…”

Our parents’ divorce—a heavy thread we both shared.

But it still felt too raw, too soon to unravel. Even if it was common ground, we’d need to be closer before diving into something like that. For now, we’d stick to snacks and bickering, letting the weight of the past wait for another day.

＊   ＊　＊

As we walked home, licking the last of the Pakico off our fingers, I decided to bring up something I’d always wanted to try if I ever had a sibling.

“Alright, Akira, let’s play rock-paper-scissors for who carries the bags.”

“What!? I have to carry both of these heavy things!? No way, absolutely not!”

“It’ll be good for strength training, right? Perfect for toning up that body of yours.”

“Ughhh~… Aniki, you’re such a sadist~…”

“Says the one who mercilessly crushes me in Ensamu 2 without holding back.”

After a fair and square rock-paper-scissors match, the winner was—

“Hah hah hah! See that? This is the power of your big brother!”

Beating Akira at something other than a game for the first time felt absurdly satisfying.

“Power? It’s just dumb luck…”

“It’s thanks to the good karma I’ve built up. Haven’t you heard? Luck is part of skill. Besides, this is revenge for Yoshinobu and Hijikata. I’ve avenged you, my fallen comrades in heaven!”

“That’s so annoying~…”

I handed over the bags, and the weight settled heavily in his arms. He let out a pitiful “Ughhh~” as he clutched the eco-bags, his shoulders slumping.

“So heavy~…” he grumbled sulkily, then switched to a whiny, pleading tone. “Aniki~…”

He was super competitive in games, but in moments like this, he didn’t try to one-up me with some “I’m stronger than you!” bravado. To be fair, the bags were pretty heavy.

As his big brother, I wondered if I was spoiling him too much, but I couldn’t ignore my cute little sibling’s desperate plea.

“Fine, we’ll switch at the corner over there.”

“Yay!” he cheered, shamelessly seizing the opportunity.

What an opportunist.

Being relied on like this… well, it wasn’t so bad, I guess. In the end, I took the bags back from Akira and carried both eco-bags all the way home.

Akira was in a great mood afterward, inviting me to play games when we got back and even swinging by my room to borrow some manga before bed.

Little by little, our bond was growing stronger. It wasn’t quite on the level of Guan Yu and Zhang Fei, but it sure felt like our sibling connection was solidifying—at least, that’s how it seemed to me.

[T/N: Guan Yu (関羽) and Zhang Fei (張飛), from Romance of the Three Kingdoms, are iconic sworn brothers known for fierce loyalty.]