06: The vice

September 25, 2018

Alexandra Ryokakku

Takayama, Japan

Mom refused to let Dad take us to school once we arrived in Japan. I remember the first time I walked alone, in the middle of winter, to get to elementary school. At that time I could barely speak the language, and I always felt like crying. My brother would tease me, saying my tears would freeze, so I made every effort to hold them back. Although now, I'm sure he only said that to avoid hearing me cry.

Since that day, I stopped being so close to Dad. The memories I had of him were always blurry. His scent, his sweet words, his love—there was nothing left of those times when everything seemed happy. I rarely saw him at home; he was always locked away in his study, working relentlessly. The only moments I truly felt like his daughter were those when I finished my designs. His eyes would always light up, and he'd kiss my forehead, saying, "Well done, my dear."

Those days were my favorite.

They were also the days when Mom wasn't around, and I could just be myself. I didn't have to follow behavioral labels or make careful moves to maintain my delicacy. I could let my hair touch the floor, lie in bed in the weirdest positions, and bounce around until I fell asleep. Those were definitely the best days.

And even though the routine at home was almost always the same, there were other occasions that also sweetened my day.

"Sasha." My father stopped me at the door as I was putting on my shoes by the entrance.

I turned to look at him with a smile. Dad was like a bear. He had excessive body hair and a long bear sprinkled with grey hairs and our characteristic white birthmark, sweet yet threatening eyes, and a curious personality I didn't fully understand. But if there was one thing he shared with my brother, it was the simple fact that I could never tell what he was thinking.

"Vasya's not going to school." He said, in Russian. As soon as he finished, he crossed the threshold between the tea room and the reception without waiting for a response.

I took off the shoes I'd just put on and carefully set my school bag against the wall. I waited to hear the sound of Dad's office door sliding open, and, trying not to make noise—which was difficult because the wooden floor always creaked—I climbed the stairs beside the reception that led to the bedrooms. Once upstairs, I was able to relax a bit more. My brother's room was the last one at the end of a long hallway, the darkest and coldest of all. I grasped the door handle and entered, making sure to close it quietly.

"Vasya, are you okay?"

His body lay face down on the bed, almost naked. I couldn't see very well in the dark, but I knew he was awake. I sat at the edge of the bed and placed a hand on his cold back.

Deep down, my brother was just a tired child. Sometimes, even I forgot that beneath all those muscles and strength, there was a human being with feelings, even if those feelings were complex. He had always been a bit strange—he would catch rabbits with his bare hands in the snow, keep them in the house, and dislocate their limbs one by one until the animal couldn't take it anymore and died. He'd dive into frozen lakes completely naked and convince other kids our age to do the same. He didn't have much empathy, and he struggled to understand many emotions, so he expressed everything through violence.

"I'll go in the second term." He murmured, his face buried in a pillow.

"Dad said you were not going."

"No one cares what he says."

His hostile tone was typical when referring to Dad, as if he had some inexplicable hatred for him. I never understood that.

A sigh escaped my lips as I stood up a moment later.

"I heard one of my designs was stolen."

His silence spoke more than his words ever could.

"I'm the only one who can put them together. Anyone else who tries won't find what they're looking for."

I watched him sit up on the bed. The light from the door, now slightly open, illuminated his body. Large bruises and old scars colored his skin. His smile only seemed to mock me, with that cocky attitude that only he understood.

"Who said I'm doing it for your designs, genius?"

I didn't say anything else. Even if I wanted to ask, I would only receive riddles to solve, ones I didn't feel like facing. I left the room and returned to the reception, grabbed my bag, put on my shoes, and walked to the train station. It was getting late, but I still had things to think about.

A couple of years ago, I started working as a lab rat. Although Mom complained a lot about what I was doing, it was one of the few things Dad defended me on, so I had some freedoms. I don't remember why I was so excited about complex designs, with puzzles and riddles. Dad said that was what made my blueprints unique. Even though I had to spend whole days without going to class, assembling my inventions piece by piece. No one else understood them—only I loved them. Even if my hands were covered in calluses and scars, and even if my nails broke more than once, there was nothing else I wanted to do.

What I am, what I must be. In the end, it was all the same.

I managed to get a seat, even though it was a bit crowded. I listened to music through my headphones, trying to distract myself during the ride. I would probably arrive just after the first class started, but my attendance was nearly perfect, so I was sure it wouldn't bother anyone.

A hand tried to take my headphones, and by reflex, I stopped it. A warm, soft, delicate hand. I turned my head to look at the owner, my irritated expression softening into a gentler one as I released my grip, embarrassed.

"Good morning, Ryokakku-san."

Taeyang. With his usual kind smile. He was standing in front of me; I hadn't noticed him until now, and probably wouldn't have if he hadn't come closer. Despite being quite striking in a crowd, he had this strange habit of blending in so effortlessly that he almost seemed invisible.

"Oh, sorry. Good morning, Taeyang."

He was standing in front of me, his left hand on the bar to keep his balance. I could see some of his hair sticking up in all directions, as if he had just gotten up. His skin glowed; he even seemed more tan than before, which didn't make sense since it was autumn. Maybe it was just the lighting. He moved his eyes curiously over the crowd, as if looking for someone.

Taeyang was still a little strange, and my brother took advantage of his endless curiosity. He'd steal his food, hit him a few times, take his gym uniform, play with him just like he did with the rabbits in his childhood. And no matter how much I wanted to, there was no way I could intervene. There was no way I could contradict Vasiliy. But I knew he'd be safe as long as everything stayed at school. I didn't understand why he was always willing to talk to me like nothing had happened. He didn't seem to hold any grudges, and he didn't seem to hate my brother either. But whenever I tried to ask him about it, he'd avoid the question so cleverly that by the time I realized, there was no way to bring it up again.

"Don't worry, Vasiliy won't be coming today. You'll get a break."

"At least I can eat in peace." He added with a laugh.

I hated how he didn't get angry, how he didn't show even a hint of hatred. It was strange, very strange.

His relationship with my brother had given him a reputation of being weak, so I really wasn't worried about what Vasiliy did, but what others would do when he wasn't around. Like today. Even though Taeyang looked athletic and seemed strong, he was actually weak. It didn't even make sense. I gently tapped his calf, receiving an instant complaint and a confused look.

"You're an idiot."

His pouty lips made him look a bit cute. After a moment, he composed himself and returned to his spot, leaning a little to look at me closely. Though it was one of his many odd habits, it didn't really bother me.

"Are you mad?"

He smiled widely again, gently patting my head with his right hand. Soft, affectionate taps.

"What your brother does shouldn't affect our friendship. You should stop taking responsibility for his actions."

He was right. When did I start doing that?

Maybe it all started that winter night when Dad found the lifeless rabbits piled up in our closet. Yes, maybe. After all, Vasiliy was just a kid.