Yuya put away his camera with satisfaction and sighed. He had managed to take quite a few pictures after school today, before going home. If he could have, he would have stayed until late evening to capture the park bathed in twilight. But he had to hurry, he suspected he was already late, and he would be in big trouble if he arrived home after his father. Miyazawa Kentaro tolerated no lateness from anyone, especially not from his own children. Yuya was aware that if he arrived home after his father, he would again have to listen to the endless tirade about what an ungrateful and useless son he was, unable even to come home on time. After all, a sixteen-year old, well-behaved boy doesn't wander the streets after school when he has tons of studying to do. Only dissolute individuals, who don't have proper parents, can afford to loiter. Such parents who protect and guard them and teach them how to behave properly.
Yuya sighed bitterly, then looked across the park. It was in the middle of October, the trees were already beginning to shed their leaves, and quite a few trees stood bare. This was also a deserted park, an old playground with abandoned swings and other toys, which no one would ever use again, had been rusting for years. Yuya loved this season, he loved photographing deserted spaces, streets, empty parks, bare trees or trees shedding their leaves. He loved the colors of autumn, which reminded him of decay. There was a bitter and grotesque satisfaction in him when he captured such things. He rarely photographed people, especially families. Animals, however, much more. Birds, dogs, cats, sometimes insects, as they also belonged to nature. He touched the small bag hanging around his neck, which concealed the traditional, analog camera. He bought it used, for a pittance from a classmate who said it was just gathering dust at their place anyway. Yuya didn't mind, it was a good little camera, even if he had to get the pictures developed and then digitize them at home with the desktop scanner he also bought used. He would have liked to buy a digital camera, but they were too expensive, and his parents would never have given him extra money on top of his pocket money. They considered photography foolish, a childish hobby from which one could never make a living. His father had told him countless times to give up this nonsense and focus on his studies, as a proper student should.
It slowly began to get dark, and Yuya finally headed home. He quickened his pace to get home as soon as possible. Not far from their house, he slowed down, but not because he had plenty of time. His father's car was not yet in the driveway, which meant he hadn't arrived home yet. But it wasn't this that stopped Yuya, but the tall and slender figure who was just opening the front door. Yuya's blood froze in his veins for a moment. His brother had arrived home before him. He certainly wouldn't let the matter go uncommented and would also mention to their father that Yuya had been wandering again. Whereas he, Hokuto, went straight home after lectures, as the university Student Council, in which his brother held the position of vice-president, did not meet today. The boy steeled himself and started walking with a trembling stomach and a fiercely pounding heart. When he reached the front door, he opened it carefully while listening. He heard his mother and brother talking in the kitchen, and he swallowed nervously. He closed the door behind him and took off his coat, then his shoes. With trembling hands, he put them in their place while slipping into his slippers.
"I'm home!" he said loud enough for those inside to hear. He stepped into the living room, the kitchen was to the right.
"Finally you're here, little wanderer!" Hokuto's voice froze Yuya for a moment. His brother leaned against the kitchen door, smiling, watching him from there. He pointed to the bag hanging around Yuya's neck. "You're very late, I suppose you were wandering again instead of studying."
"I'm sorry, Brother…" Yuya tried to appear as humble as he possibly could. He was terrified and knew that there was no way he could emerge victorious from this battle.
Hokuto said nothing, and Yuya knew that in their mother's presence, his brother wouldn't hit him. No, he was saving that for later, the boy saw it in his brother's eyes, heard it in his voice. Hokuto had been having some serious problems lately, because in recent weeks he had hurt Yuya much more often than usual. But they both tried to keep it a secret from their parents. After all, in a perfect family, family members don't hurt each other and always stick together. Yuya could have thrown up at how much everyone, including himself, struggled to never let their masks break.
"Yuya, go wash up and change!" Their mother, Miyazawa Yukari, stepped out of the kitchen. She looked tired, even more troubled than usual, as she wiped her hands on her apron. "Your father'll be home soon and we can have dinner."
"Yes, Mother," Yuya nodded, then headed towards his room.
He tried not to rush too much, so as not to arouse suspicion, but he was eager to finally be able to breathe a little in the seemingly safe solitude of his room. At least until their father arrived home.
~*~
Yuya sat at the dinner table with his head bowed. They were having dinner, but he would have much rather been anywhere else. In his room, for example, but he knew his father wouldn't tolerate such a thing. Meals were sacred, dinner at least, everyone had to be at the table unless they had an urgent task. According to his family, Yuya had nothing important to do, nothing that could distract him from the "quality" time spent with the family.
Yuya hated it all, knowing he could do nothing about it. He silently listened to his father, who was once again scolding him for some insignificant trifle that other, normal parents would have overlooked. But not his father. He didn't dare to lift his head, didn't dare to look at his mother or his brother. He knew what he would see. A disapproving shake of the head from his mother, a condescending and slightly gloating look from his brother. Not that he wasn't used to it, but it still hurt so much, so he tried, or at least attempted, to concentrate on the food in front of him. But it was as if he was eating cardboard, even though his mother cooked very well. Yuya, however, didn't taste the rice curry, yet he chewed mechanically, so that at least no one would say anything about that.
"It's incredible that you're nothing but trouble!" he suddenly heard his father's voice. "You'll never get anywhere with that attitude of yours! You could take an example from your brother! Hokuto was top of his class, captain of the baseball team, won academic competitions, was on the Student Council in High-school, and was accepted into Todai's Business Management course. But you, Yuya, only cause disappointment. When will you grow up and finally start acting like an adult? We never had as many problems with your brother as we do with you!"
Of course, his brother, the "perfect child," who was always good in everyhing, always polite, obedient, who had many friends, girls were crazy about him, and of course, everyone respected him. Someone who could be shown off, who fit into the perfect family idyll his parents had envisioned. Someone who didn't have to be hidden, denied, like some dark stain on the family's neatly ironed clothes.
"Yuya, you really should stop acting childish," Hokuto said, and when the boy cautiously looked at him, he saw nothing but dull disgust on his brother's face. His voice, however, was a careful blend of lecturing and brotherly concern. The twenty-year old boy knew exactly what tone to strike, what to say to get his parents's approval. The whole thing was like a carefully planned mathematical equation. Or like a well-rehearsed stage play in which everyone played a role. "You're sixteen now, you can't act like a kindergartner. You're in already in high-school, you will soon have to think about what you'll do in the future. You should also finally give up your ridiculously childish hobby. Don't bring shame to our family, if I may ask! Grow up!"
"We only want what's best for you, because we love you and worry about you" his mother said, and Yuya almost laughed mockingly. But only almost. He knew he had to control himself, no matter how difficult it was, otherwise things could take a very unfavorable turn. For him of course. "We want you not to bring shame upon yourself or anyone else. We want you to be able to stand your ground in life, but as long as you have this attitude, it won't work. That's why we're being so tough, you know that."
"You could appreciate what your mother and I do for you!" His father continued. "Pull yourself together, because with these academic results, at best you can go cleaning an office building. But maybe they wouldn't hire you even there. I've talked to your teachers, they say you don't pay attention in class and can't even solve the simplest tasks in science subjects. Not to mention English. If this continues..."
Yuya simply ignored his father's further words. His father was not telling the truth, Yuya's academic results were not bad at all. No worse than an average student, much better than mediocre, but still lagging behind the top of the class. But there were subjects he didn't like, that didn't interest him as much. Yet he diligently studied them to the best of his ability and never skipped school. His test scores were never below 90% either. However, these academic results were still very far from the performance his parents demanded of him. They wanted him to be top of the class, to win academic competitions like his older brother, so he wouldn't bring shame upon them. It wasn't his fault that he was different from his brother, that different things interested him, that he had a knack for other things. His parents never cared what he wanted, what he longed for, what he was good at. They decided what he should be like at birth. Perhaps even before his birth. From a young age, his mother decided what clothes he should wear, what his favorite color should be, his favorite food, who he should be friends with, how he should arrange his room, and what his hobby should be. He had no say in anything, his mother vetoed even his smallest desires, be it just a toy or a friendly get-together, if they didn't fit into the perfect idyll envisioned by his parents. She did the same with his older brother, who adapted to this philosophy of life, never complained, but tried to meet expectations. Meanwhile, he slowly became just like their parents, only Hokuto either didn't notice or didn't want to notice. But Yuya was no longer capable of this kind of submission, which annoyed his parents, so in recent years almost every dinner was accompanied by a lecture. Yuya finally put down his chopsticks and stood up from the table.
"I still have a lot of homework," he said softly, head bowed, only half looking at the others. "I'm going up to my room."
"As if there's any point for you going to school," he heard his brother's mocking voice. Hokuto didn't even try to hide his contempt for his, in his opinion, useless, good-for-nothing younger brother. "If you dropped out of school and went to work, we'd get more out of that. Then maybe your eyes would open and you'd realize that the world doesn't revolve around you."
Yuya clenched his fist, but didn't speak. He knew it would be pointless. This happened every day, nothing was good enough for his parents. He could never do anything well. At least well enough for his father and mother to be satisfied with him. In their eyes, he was a faulty screw in the perfect machine, which they never failed to rub in his face again and again. But he didn't answer, he didn't talk back, he hadn't for years. He knew that if he did, he would only lose, his words would be twisted. Or they wouldn't even hear them. So he did the only thing he always did. He headed towards the stairs, at the top of which, behind one of the doors, his room was hidden. He could barely wait, to catch up and finally deal with what he was truly good at, what he truly loved.
~*~
Hidden in his room, Yuya could finally breathe a sigh of relief, at least for a while. He didn't know how much time he had alone, because from his brother's words and gaze, he understood that Hokuto wouldn't leave him in peace today. But perhaps he still had a few minutes and he wanted to make the most of it. He went to his desk and took out a thick folder from the bottom of one of the drawers. It was a photo album, Yuya arranged the printed pictures in it. There were only a few left that he hadn't scanned yet, but now he just opened the album and delved into studying the pictures. He didn't consider himself a great artist, but he had a website, which was rudimentary, but it suited him. He uploaded the scanned photos there, and quite a lot of people liked them. Most of them just favorited his pictures, but there were quite a few who left shorter or longer comments. Yuya liked to read these, because although not all of them were complimentary, even the criticisms were more constructive.
Finally, he had to close the album and took out his homework for the next day. There was quite a lot, he knew it would be at least ten o'clock, but perhaps even half past ten, before he finished everything. Assuming his brother wouldn't bother him so much this time. Yuya tried to concentrate on the grammar exercises in front of him, but he was too afraid of the consequences of just getting up from the dinner table. His mother wouldn't say anything, but his father and brother… He found it strange that his father let him go just like that. Perhaps he didn't even deem it worthy to scold him. However, Yuya knew that he had earned another bad mark in the man's eyes. Now he would consider him even more useless and would use even harsher words. As for his brother, the boy didn't even dare to think about it.
Suddenly, he heard footsteps, then the door opened, and Yuya already knew who had entered. Fear ran through his body, and he squeezed the pencil in his hand so hard that he was afraid it would break. He didn't dare to look up as the person walked casually towards him.
"I wouldn't have thought you were actually studying." He heard his brother's mocking voice, and he tried to shrink himself. "Well, Yuya, today you really exceed our expectations."
Yuya didn't answer, he tried to focus on his homework, but fear filled his every thought. His stomach began to churn as he subtly glanced sideways.
"But you don't think you can catch up on your backlog in one day, do you?" Hokuto asked, pacing back and forth in the room. He acted like someone looking for something to pick a fight with his younger brother. "Especially if you're still busy with these silly, childish things."
Yuya noticed Hokuto reaching for the photo album, then with lazy movements and a deep disgust on his face, he began to flip through it. No, he couldn't allow that! Those were his treasures, one of his few joys.
"Don't touch it!" Yuya said desperately and snatched at the album. Although he knew well that this could enrage his brother. Hokuto had been very irritable in recent days and his hands were quick to act when it came to Yuya. Not that he had ever treated him kindly anyway. Hokuto had always been prone to violence, but now it was as if something had happened to him. He had become completely wild, and Yuya was much more afraid of him than usual.
"Don't you dare order me around! You won't tell me what I have the right to do! I'm your older brother, you owe me obedience, you little piece of shit!" The other shouted, then slapped Yuya with such force that the boy fell to the ground. He hit himself hard and winced at the sharp pain in his elbow and knee. He had no chance or time to defend himself against his brother's attack. He heard the photo album fall to the floor with a loud thud, but he couldn't do anything. "You need to learn your place, Yuya! And if gentle words don't work…"
Yuya didn't have time to recover, when Hokuto simply grabbed him by his T-shirt and pulled him up. Then he slammed Yuya against the table, making the boy cry out in pain. Hokuto curled his lips and pushed Yuya to the ground, then kicked him in the side. Yuya tried to curl up, putting his hands over his head to try to protect himself somehow. Hokuto started kicking his younger brother's shins, knees, side, and arm, while Yuya lay trembling and just endured it. He knew it would be over sooner that way, and after the fifth kick, he stopped counting. He only whimpered softly, tears streaming down his face. He was aware that by tomorrow morning, his body would be covered in blue and green bruises everywhere, but he had to bear it.
Finally, at some point, Hokuto stopped and grabbed Yuya's hair. The boy hissed in pain but dared not cry out loud. He knew that would only add fuel to the fire. His whole body hurt, he was dizzy and nauseous, but he dared not speak.
"Don't you ever dare talk back to me again, understood?" His brother's voice was soft but cruel, brooking no argument. "Pull yourself together, I didn't beat you that badly, you little wretch. It's pathetic how much of a wimp you are. Stop crying like a little girl, for God's sake! It can't hurt that much, and it's useless to tell Mom and Dad anyway, since they'll believe me. You're aware of that, aren't you, Yuya?"
"Yes... brother..." Yuya replied in a soft, broken voice. After all, he could never be right, Hokuto was the perfect child, and he was just a reject, good for nothing garbage.
The other snorted contemptuously, then let go of Yuya and left. He carefully closed the door behind him, and the younger boy heard Hokuto start whistling. Like someone who had done a good job. Yuya panted softly, but his breath was mixed with painful sighs and quiet sobs.
It took him a while to calm down. He wiped his eyes with his fist, then slowly stood up and limped to the photo album. The album lay open; as Yuya picked it up, he noticed that one corner of the hard cover was slightly damaged. But his photos, his treasures, were intact, and that was all that mattered. He closed the album and hugged it to himself, trembling as he inhaled and then exhaled. His heart still wanted to jump out of his chest, he was still terribly afraid that his brother would come back. He knew Hokuto could have easily taken the album with him, or torn all the pictures into tiny pieces in front of Yuya's eyes. But he didn't, and the boy was terrified that there would be a continuation of this.
~*~
It was past eleven o'clock when Yuya finished studying and quietly crept out of his room to quickly take a shower. Silence had settled over the house; his parents were probably already asleep, and Hokuto... Yuya didn't want to know if his brother was still awake. As he undressed, he looked at his body with disgust. The marks of Hokuto's kicks and punches were already starting to show. Yuya looked in the mirror, from which a pain-filled, young face looked back at him. His black hair was disheveled, his dark brown eyes still slightly teary. The right side of his basically handsome face was still red from Hokuto's punch. He touched it and hissed, pulling his hand away. He could only hope that it wouldn't leave a mark, because then he would have to explain himself at school the next day. His parents would pretend not to see anything anyway, Hokuto would deny knowing anything, so Yuya had no trump card. But his teachers would notice, and Kumamoto-sensei, Yuya's conscientious homeroom teacher, would surely ask uncomfortable questions.
After his bath, he went back to his room and picked up his phone, opening the Podcast app. Although he was very tired, he knew he wouldn't be able to fall asleep without listening to White Dragon's soothing voice for at least a little while. White Dragon was Yuya's favorite podcaster, who always provided interesting topics. His shows were not limited to a single subject, like most podcasters's, but covered everything from literature to music and current events. This was why Yuya loved his channel, as White Dragon offered a new surprise to his listeners every other Friday. He had many subscribers and was currently one of the most popular podcasters in Japan. He would have loved to meet this exceptional person, but he knew it was impossible. Someone like White Dragon surely wouldn't pay much attention to him. Besides, he didn't even know what the other person looked like. It was certain that he was older than him, at least based on his voice, but his channel featured a white dragon as an avatar. Even if they passed each other on the street, Yuya knew he wouldn't recognize him.
He settled under the covers, then, putting his Bluetooth earphones in, he started the latest episode. There were still two days until the new episode, but he often listened to old podcasts as well. White Dragon's soothing, slightly baritone voice immediately filled her ears.
"Good evening to all my dear listeners! This is White Dragon, and as you've come to expect, today I'm bringing you a very interesting topic. In today's episode..."
~*~
Senda Hiroto sat thoughtfully on the sofa, watching the late-night news on TV. He was always curious about the world, but the current news didn't particularly captivate him. He reached for his tablet, and after successfully waking the device, he opened a site called My PhotoAlbum. This was one of his favorite sites, where most registered members shared beautiful photos with the world. The pictures of one user were particularly dear to his heart, although the person, who went by the name Blue Sparrow, always posted rather somber images. No, somber wasn't even the best word for it, Hiroto realized. More like lonely, sad, desolate. Blue Sparrow's pictures always seemed to express transience and pain. Empty parks and squares, empty streets, bare trees and bushes. Sometimes the cloudy sky also appeared in the pictures. Hiroto stopped at one picture. The photograph depicted an empty, autumnal street, with the Tokyo Tower visible in the distance. It was a surprisingly beautiful image, radiating a dark pain mixed with loneliness. Hiroto's heart involuntarily tightened and pounded at the same time. He had no idea how old the artist who took this photograph might be. He also didn't know if they were a boy or a girl, but he would have liked to get to know them. But of course, that was impossible. Blue Sparrow's avatar was a blue bird. Probably not a sparrow, since sparrows aren't blue.
"I want to know who you are" Hiroto whispered to himself.
He put down the tablet and stood up, then went to the balcony door. He opened it and stepped out onto the terrace, immediately hit by the cold air outside. But it didn't bother him. He leaned against the railing and looked at the city lights. Below, cars whizzed by, people hurried even at this late hour. Hiroto took a deep breath, then exhaled and ran his hand through his long, thick, naturally blonde hair. Sometimes he hated his hair color, which had caused him so many problems and hurts in his childhood. As if it were his fault that his Swedish mother had studied at a university in Japan back then and met Hiroto's father. Then his mother left when Hiroto was three, so the boy didn't really remember her. He only had faint impressions of his mother, more in the form of feelings than concrete memories. But because of his appearance, which, apart from his hair color, was more Japanese, he had to endure many offensive remarks. Not to mention the exclusions, which were valid from kindergarten all the way to the last year of high-school. At least his father and his paternal family stood by him, even if his grandfather didn't particularly like the boy at first. But everyone knew that Hiroto was not responsible for the unfortunate situation that had arisen. He was just a victim, a child who was blameless.
Thus, Hiroto understood Blue Sparrow's paintings much better, as if they were speaking directly to him. He was simply drawn to her works, which, although clearly not yet fully developed, penetrated to the depths of one's soul. He suddenly shivered from the cold air, after all, he was only wearing jeans and a short-sleeved black T-shirt. He decided he had had enough fresh air and went back to the living room. Another day had passed.