Hina stood under the gray porch light. Water streamed down her pale face. Her clothes clung to her small frame.
Zenjiro stared at her. He blinked against the cold wind rushing through the open doorway. It was Hina. His childhood friend. The girl from the sandbox. He had completely forgotten about her.
"It's been a while," Hina said. Her voice shook. It was barely a whisper against the loud drumming of the rain.
"It's been a while," Zenjiro repeated. The words felt hollow in his mouth.
Hina wiped the dripping water from her chin with the back of her wet hand. "I kept going to the playground. Every single day after school. I waited by the sandbox but you never came back to play with me."
Zenjiro looked down at the wet concrete. "I was busy. They gave us a lot of math homework lately."
It was a weak alibi. It was a complete lie. He just stopped going outside when Liora arrived.
Silence fell between them. The heavy rain filled the acoustic gap.
A floorboard creaked softly in the hallway behind him. Zenjiro didn't have to turn his head. He knew the sound. Liora stood about two feet behind his back. She peeked around his waist. She stared silently at the soaking wet girl on the porch.
Hina took a slow, deep breath. "I came here to say goodbye."
Zenjiro jerked his head up. His eyes widened. "Goodbye?"
"Tomorrow morning," Hina said. She looked down at her wet rubber boots. "Before the sun even rises. My family is transferring to Tokyo. My dad got a new job there."
The information hit Zenjiro right in the chest. A sudden, heavy weight dropped straight into his stomach. He suddenly realized the big gap in time. He had not hung out with her for more than a full year. He had abandoned her in the dirt. Now, she was leaving forever. A sharp pang of genuine sadness squeezed his heart.
"I see," Zenjiro said. He looked at the heavy rain pounding the street behind her. "It is pouring out there. You could have just made a telephone call, you know."
Hina shook her head. Her wet hair whipped across her pale cheeks.
"Phone calls don't feel right," Hina said. She looked directly into his eyes. Her gaze was fierce and completely unbroken. "I came here despite the rain to say this to you personally. We're friends, you know."
The word hit him. Friend. It carried an incredible weight. It was a title he had completely forgotten to uphold.
Hina shifted her weight. Her dark eyes drifted past his shoulder. She finally noticed the small blonde girl hiding behind his back.
"Who is that?" Hina asked.
Zenjiro looked over his shoulder at Liora. The blonde girl gripped the back of his shirt with one hand.
"This is my sister," Zenjiro said.
"Big sister?" Hina asked, looking at her. "She does not look like Akiho. Her hair color is..."
"Little sister," Zenjiro interrupted.
Hina frowned. Confusion twisted her wet features. "You never told me you had a little sister."
"You know that my parents split up, right?" Zenjiro asked. He kept his voice perfectly flat. "My father got remarried. She moved in last year."
Hina's expression crumbled. The fierce determination in her eyes vanished completely. It was replaced by a deep, crushing sadness. She realized she was entirely out of the loop. She was never told about the biggest change in his life.
They went to different elementary schools. They never saw each other unless they went to the same playground. She had walked all the way here in a freezing storm just to talk to him one last time, only to find out he had built a completely new life without her.
She took a step back. Her wet shoes squelched on the concrete.
"I'm going now," Hina said. Her voice cracked.
She turned around to face the dark street.
"Wait," Zenjiro said.
He spun around. He ran past Liora. He sprinted down the narrow hallway. His bare feet slapped violently against the wooden floorboards. He burst into his bedroom. He yanked the top drawer of his desk open. He dug through a pile of loose papers and old crayons. His fingers hit a small cloth bag.
He grabbed it and then he ran back out to the entryway.
Hina was already walking down the short concrete path. The rain battered her small shoulders.
Zenjiro stepped out entirely into the rain. The freezing water soaked his gray sweatpants instantly. He caught up to her in three strides. He grabbed her wet wrist and shoved the cloth bag into her palm.
She looked down at it. It was the bag of green plastic soldiers. The ones from the sandbox.
There was no logical reason to give them to her. It was just a handful of cheap plastic. But his hands were empty and he desperately wanted to give her something before she disappeared into the storm.
Hina closed her fingers tight around the wet cloth. She looked up at his face. The rain washed over her cheeks.
"See you, Zen-kun," Hina whispered.
She turned around and she walked away. She disappeared into the heavy gray sheets of falling water. Zenjiro stood barefoot in the freezing rain. He watched the empty street for a long time. His only childhood friend was gone.
---
The seasons changed. The heavy rain gave way to blistering summer heat. The heat faded into crisp autumn winds. The snow fell and melted away again. A full year passed in a quiet, steady blur of school bells and shared meals.
Zenjiro was in the third grade. He was nine years old. He grew two inches taller. The tight grip of his new family dynamic settled into a permanent, unbreakable concrete foundation.
It was a quiet Sunday afternoon. The house was entirely still. Soichi was gone. He always drove to the construction site on the weekends.
The television hummed softly in the dim living room. A boring documentary about mountain lions played on the screen. Zenjiro sat flat on the woven tatami mat. His back rested firmly against the front base of the brown sofa.
Liora lay completely flat on the floor beside him. Her blonde hair spilled across his lap. She used his legs as a soft pillow. She stared up at the television screen with half-open eyes. She looked incredibly bored.
"Change it," Liora said.
Zenjiro looked at the low wooden coffee table. The surface was empty. He looked at the sofa cushions. "The remote control is missing."
Liora groaned softly. She didn't move her head. She just closed her eyes completely.
"I'll ask Mom," Zenjiro said.
He slid his hands under Liora's head. He lifted it up gently. He slid his legs out from under her and lowered her head back down onto the soft tatami mat. He stood up and brushed the wrinkles out of his dark shorts.
He walked out of the living room. He moved down the hallway toward the master bedroom. The wooden floorboards creaked under his weight.
He reached the bedroom door. It was wide open.
The room was warm. The afternoon sun beat directly against the glass window. The heat trapped itself inside the small space.
Zenjiro stepped into the room. He looked at the large bed.
Clara was fast asleep. Her sleeping position was completely chaotic. She lay flat on her back. Both of her arms were spread entirely wide across the mattress. She had kicked the thick blue blanket completely off the bed. It lay in a crumpled pile on the floor.
She wore a thin white sando and dark shorts. The intense heat of the room made her toss and turn in her sleep. The friction against the bedsheets had pulled her clothing completely out of place.
The thin white fabric of her sando was bunched up entirely around her collarbones.
Then Zenjiro saw it.
Her chest was completely bare to the warm air of the room. She did not wear a bra underneath the sleepwear. Two soft, pale curves lay entirely exposed against the mattress. They rose and fell with her slow, steady breathing.
Zenjiro stopped at the foot of the bed. He stared.
His nine-year-old mind did not possess the biological context to understand the sight. He did not feel a rush of blood. He did not feel embarrassment. He analyzed what he was seeing purely through the lens of practical health. The room was warm now, but the evening draft would roll in soon.
She is too careless, he thought. She is going to catch a cold if the temperature drops.
He walked quietly around to the side of the mattress. He leaned over her sleeping body. He reached out with both hands. He grabbed the bunched white fabric near her collarbones.
He slowly pulled the sando down to cover her stomach.
As the thin cotton slid over her chest, the tips of his fingers brushed against her bare skin. He felt the incredibly soft, heavy flesh resting just above her ribs. The tactile friction was smooth and unnaturally warm. The weight of it yielded slightly beneath his light touch.
He pulled the fabric down flat. He stepped back. He reached down to the floor and picked up the heavy blue blanket. He draped it carefully over her sleeping body. He covered her entirely up to her shoulders.
Clara shifted slightly under the weight of the blanket. She sighed softly in her sleep but she did not wake up.
"Hurry up, Onii-chan!" Liora shouted from the living room. Her voice echoed loudly down the hall. "The music show is going to start soon!"
Zenjiro turned his head. He scanned the room. The black plastic remote control sat right on the small wooden table beside the bed. He reached out and picked it up. His fingers still felt slightly warm.
He walked out of the bedroom and returned to the living room.
Liora was sitting upright now. She snatched the remote control right out of his hand before he even sat down. She mashed the rubber buttons. The television screen flickered. The boring mountain lions vanished.
A massive, brightly lit concert stage exploded onto the screen. Laser lights flashed in wild, frantic patterns. A massive crowd of fans cheered loudly.
The camera zoomed in fast. A girl stood in the center of the stage. She held a silver microphone. The bold text at the bottom of the screen read her name. Amachi Seira. Rising Idol.
Zenjiro sat back down on the tatami mat. He looked at the television.
Amachi Seira was probably eighteen years old. She wore a sparkling blue dress that caught the harsh stage lights. Her dark hair was styled perfectly. Her eyes were incredibly bright and expressive. She was, by all objective metrics, staggeringly pretty. Her voice carried a clear, ringing melody that instantly hooked the ear.
Zenjiro just stared at the screen. The flashing lights reflected in his dark pupils. The loud music filled the small room.
Liora looked away from the television. She looked at Zenjiro. She noticed his completely unbroken stare.
"Onii-chan," Liora said.
Zenjiro didn't answer. He watched the idol spin on the stage. The camera tracked her movement perfectly.
"Onii-chan," Liora repeated. Her voice grew slightly louder. The tone shifted. It dropped a fraction of an octave.
He still did not respond. He was entirely locked onto the broadcast. He was mersmerized.
"Onii-chan!" Liora snapped.
She didn't wait for a response this time. She scrambled up onto her knees. She moved instantly. She placed her body directly between his face and the television screen. She completely blocked his view of the bright stage.
Zenjiro blinked. His focus snapped. He looked up.
Liora knelt right in front of him. Her face was completely serious. Her blue eyes narrowed into sharp, dangerous slits. She raised both of her hands. She clamped her small palms flat against both sides of his face. She gripped his cheeks hard.
Zenjiro stepped his head back in pure shock. Her grip followed him.
"Earth to Onii-chan," Liora said. Her voice was icy cold.
She didn't let go of his face. She leaned her upper body forward. She closed the distance. She leaned in dangerously close.