“Kanba…?”
I didn’t want to believe it, but…that journalist was in the middle of investigating our family, and the three of us were the only ones who knew about it… Gingerly, I reached up and touched the spot where Kanba punched me, still faintly swollen. Then I thought about the cold, hard look on his face when he demanded to know what the journalist looked like. If he went off to be with the terrorists, then this was no accidental death.
All this time, no matter what moral boundaries Kanba crossed, we always respected him as our brother. But that was because we believed wholeheartedly that he would never do anything worthy of more than a facepalm and a scolding, and we trusted him not to take it too far. There was no reason to doubt him, and so we forgave him for all of it. But if Kanba had gone beyond the point of no return, then our relationship was truly over for good. I would never be able to forgive him for that.
I realized a tear was rolling down my cheek, but I didn’t wipe it away. Instead, I ran into the bathroom and puked in the toilet. I couldn’t control it; it felt like something was squeezing my organs from my chest to my gut. My teeth chattered. And in that moment, it finally hit me: no matter how far apart we were, we were still a family. No matter which of them came home, no matter how long it took them, we would surely go right back to our lives together.
But that day would never come. Neither my words nor Himari’s feelings would ever get through to Kanba. We were strangers now. All of us.
Looking back, it was probably KIGA that held the funeral for his father. Kanba was still just a boy at the time, and as he stood there in front of the coffin, he quietly wondered what would happen to him. His father had cut himself off from the Natsume family, and Kanba made the choice to go with him. Now he was all alone.
“This man was one of our dear compatriots,” Takakura Kenzan declared, tears in his eyes. Whoa. The guy was even more emotional than Kanba himself.
Kenzan was one of the organization’s executives; he brought his wife and two children to the service. The kids were close in age to Kanba himself, and in fact, he’d seen the older brother at the office on occasion.
Kenzan and his wife Chiemi both looked at Kanba with sympathy.
“You have nothing to worry about, Kanba. Starting today, we’re your new family,” Kenzan declared, so matter-of-factly that he couldn’t argue.
His father always seemed to regret taking him away from the Natsume family. Whether he thought of him as a burden or simply wanted him to be with his siblings, it wasn’t clear. But he would always say the same thing: “I failed at family.” Kanba’s mother was driven away by his grandfather’s tyranny, and since his father lacked managerial skills, he couldn’t stay long, either. Did he end up in KIGA afterwards, or did he leave the family because he joined KIGA? Kanba didn’t really know.
Naturally, Kanba himself was part of the “family” his father had failed at. They were two failures, living a failed life together. Did his father ever really love him? Did he love his father? Was he even mourning at all? As he stared down blankly at the ground, Chiemi walked over, dressed head to toe in black, and crouched down to meet his eye level.
“I swear, Shoma talks about you all day every day. Don’t worry, Kanba-kun—it doesn’t take long to fit in with us. You’ll be their big brother before you know it.”
No grown-up had ever smiled at him like that. Judging from her friendly tone and the slight distance between them, he could tell she was trying to be respectful of his space. But even then, he doubted it would be that easy to join someone’s family. Even his real family got angry and shouted at each other.
Chiemi led him by the hand out of the funeral home to the crematorium. Behind them walked Kenzan, Shoma, and the other girl. At the time, his only thought was: I didn’t realize Shoma had a little sister, too.
As his father’s body burned to ash, he sat at a table in the waiting room with the Takakura family and silently ate the packed lunch he was given. It wasn’t especially tasty or gross—it was just normal food. It didn’t taste like anything.
“Look at you, eating your veggies! I’m proud of you,” Chiemi told him.
Kanba didn’t know how to respond to this. Shoma finished everything except his snow peas, but his sister barely touched anything. Her complexion was wan.
“Himari, you don’t have to push yourself,” Chiemi told her gently.
“Okay,” the girl, Himari, answered quietly. After a sip of tea, she continued, “Thank you for the food.”
“Yeah, thanks for the food,” Kanba hastily chimed in, almost like an afterthought. Then Himari glanced over at him, and for a moment, their eyes met. She had big, round eyes—just like Shoma, he thought to himself.
It wasn’t until they asked him what he wanted to do with the bones that it finally sank in: his father was dead. His father’s dead body was reduced to bones, and now tradition dictated that the next of kin use chopsticks to pick them up and put them in a funerary urn. But Kanba was still a child. He wasn’t in charge of this funeral.
“Whatever you decide, make sure you won’t regret it. Your father was a great man,” Kenzan told him.
And so Kanba decided to look at his father’s bones.
There were no identifying features left—just an arrangement of slightly yellowed human bones. As the undertaker stood at the ready nearby, he stared down at the pieces in contemplation. Even if his father thought of him as a burden—even if the man had died cursing his failed family—he decided he still loved his father all the same. No particular reason.
As he broke down crying, Shoma flinched in surprise. “You okay?”
Was he? Kanba didn’t know the answer. Deep down, he was terrified of joining Shoma’s family. Suddenly, he felt something cold against his cheek. Startled, he touched it and realized something was stuck to his face, right over his tear streak.
“See? We match,” Himari explained, holding up her index finger to show him the bear-patterned adhesive bandage wrapped around it. “Now it won’t hurt anymore, right?”
Tilting her head, she looked at him in concern. She was a pale girl, clad in black shoes, black tights, and a black dress.
“Did that fix it?”
“Yeah, I’m okay.” He was so startled, he stopped crying. Instead, he offered Himari a small smile.
After that, Kanba became a Takakura kid—the older brother of Shoma and Himari. And at some point along the way, he vowed to himself that he would protect Himari at any cost. He would never let anyone destroy his family ever again. She was his beloved baby sister, and he was going to save her.
“I’m gonna save you, I promise.” Kanba looked over his shoulder at Himari, knees tucked to her chin, sitting among the black teddy bears stacked up to the ceiling.
“Okay,” Himari nodded, smiling. “I’m with you to the end, Kan-chan.”
In return for all the times Kanba protected her, Himari decided it was her turn to watch over him. That was what brought her here. She didn’t fully understand what he was talking about when he said he would “save” her, but she could plainly see that he was plotting something with KIGA, talking to them through these computer monitors all day every day. And whatever they were plotting, it wasn’t good.