Chapter Text
“For more than 200 years we Miyas have been blamed for everything that goes wrong in this town. We make them nervous. Your great, great, and seven more greats grandma lived in this town, in a small house that was just over the water there. She met a man who was traveling through, and they fell in love. With their love bloomed her magic, and she became a tremendously skilled witch.”
Aunt Kaori paused to sip her lemonade.
“The townspeople were afraid of her and her powers, so they tried to hang her. But right as she stepped off the platform, the rope snapped. They were too scared to try again, so they banished her to this very island. She went willingly, expecting that her love would come take her away. Months passed and she found she was pregnant with his child, but still he didn’t come for her. Heartbroken, she put a spell on herself that would keep her from falling in love again to protect herself, but her anger and pain soured the magic into a curse. She gave birth to their daughter alone, and the curse passed on to her daughter and all of her daughter’s descendants. Even now, any man that has the misfortune of catching a Miya’s eye, earning their love, dies.”
“Is that what happened to dad?”
“Mhmm. Your poor mother knew it was coming, she heard the deathwatch beetle. Once you hear that damn beetle, fate is sealed. After your father died, she was inconsolable. She went to be with him and you both came to live with me.”
Osamu wrinkled his nose at his aunt. “Bein’ in love sounds like too much trouble.”
She laughed, leaning forward to ruffle his dark hair. “It’s troublesome, I’ll give you that, but never too much.”
Atsumu bounced in his seat, nearly knocking over his lemonade. “I can’t wait to fall in love, ‘Samu! And if we both marry girls then they’ll be safe from the curse!”
Osamu simply shrugged.
—
Osamu studied his drawing of his aunt’s house. It looked off, but he couldn’t put a finger on why. Frustrated, he glanced around the classroom for inspiration. The posters, the bulletin board of the class’ previous work, the class frog in her aquarium. He looked back at his drawing and it hit him: the rose bushes were missing.
“Can I borrow your red crayon?” he asked the boy next to him.
Tatsuki was new in their class, his family new in their town. He must not have heard the rumors about the Miya family yet because he smiled brightly as he handed it over and Osamu felt a million butterflies let loose in his stomach.
—
“Aunt Kaori?” Osamu asked, padding quietly into the kitchen where his aunt was engrossed in a book, a spoon idly swirling itself around the teacup by her elbow. “Can I tell you something?”
She folded the corner of the page down and picked up her tea, taking a long sip. “Of course, Osamu, anything.”
“It’s about the curse..” he trailed off, unsure how to continue. Aunt Kaori waited patiently as several more sugar cubes floated out of the bowl and plopped into her cup.
“I don’t.. I don’t wanna marry a girl.”
Her movements faltered, just a bit, just enough for it to catch his eye. She looked at him cautiously, her eyes looking intently between his own. “You don’t?”
He shook his head miserably.
“Would you want to marry a boy?”
He could only let out a choked sob in response, his shoulders hunching in as he began to cry, and Aunt Kaori held open her arms and cried with him.
—
Osamu couldn’t sleep that night, tossing and turning fruitlessly until Atsumu poked his head over the edge of his bunk to yell at him. He made his way downstairs to get a glass of water, but froze at the bottom of the stairs at the sound of an unfamiliar voice coming from the kitchen.
“Miss Kaori, please,” the voice begged. Osamu crept to the very edge of the shadows and peeked in to see who was speaking.
A young woman with long, wavy hair was sitting at their kitchen table clutching a cup of tea and crying.
“I’m sorry, but my answer’s no.”
“Please,” she begged again. “I- I need him back.”
“He’s gone, dear. Even I can’t reach him now.”
“But I heard when your sister-”
“Enough.” Aunt Kaori said, her tone unusually cold, and Osamu shivered. Her back was to him, but the young woman flinched slightly at whatever expression she wore.
“I’ll never do that kind of magic again. If that’s all, then you should go.”
“No! No, please. I can’t go on like this, please, do anything to make the pain go away!”
Aunt Kaori was quiet for a moment. “There’s a way to.. overwrite the emotion.”
“Anything, please.”
Aunt Kaori turned and rummaged through the cabinet over the sink where she kept her brewed potions. Returning to the table, she sat and placed a small bottle of inky black liquid next to the woman’s teacup. She looked at it uncertainly.
“Is it.. safe?”
“Oh, yes, don’t let the appearance get to you. Please understand, if you drink this you will feel love stronger than you’ve ever felt. It will be as if your late husband meant nothing to you in comparison. Are you sure you want this?”
The woman didn’t answer, she just uncapped the bottle and poured the contents into her cup. The faint smell of ginger and lemon wafted over Osamu, surprising given the potion’s color.
The woman drank deeply, and almost at once the furrow in her brow relaxed. Her tears ceased, her shoulders dropped, and a faint smile played at her lips.
Aunt Kaori took the teacup to the sink and dumped the contents down the drain. She helped the woman up, guiding her to the door.
“I hope this brings you peace, dear.”
“Peace,” the woman echoed dreamily. “Yes, he does bring me a lot of peace, I’ll tell him how I feel first thing tomorrow. Thank you, Miss Kaori.”
Osamu stumbled back upstairs, water forgotten, where he found Atsumu waiting for him huddled under the covers of the top bunk. Osamu strode to his desk, rifling through the drawer until he found what he needed. At the sight of his spellbook, Atsumu clambered down and peered over his shoulder as Osamu began to write on a fresh sheet.
“What’re you doin’?” he asked way too loudly into Osamu’s ear.
“I need a spell,” he said, his pen dancing across the page.
He will wear mismatched socks
He will remember to water my plants
“‘He’? Who’s ‘he’?” Atsumu asked, confusion evident in his voice.
He can cut onions without crying
He can befriend any street cat
“The only boy I’ll be able to fall in love with.”
He’ll be marvelously kind
His favorite song will constantly change
And he’ll have bright green eyes.
“Wha- but- ‘Samu, this boy-” he jabbed at the page with his finger, “how will you find him? How do you know he exists?”
“I know he doesn’t. I’m not falling in love, ‘Tsumu. I don’t ever want to be heartbroken like Mom was.”
Elbowing his brother off him, Osamu straightened up and opened the window, leaning out to perform his new spell to the listening stars.
—
Pebbles bounced off his back as Osamu and Atsumu made their way down the road.
“You’re both freaks!” one of their classmates called after them, causing the rest of the kids to laugh. Atsumu continued walking, hunched against the small stones but otherwise looking unbothered, but Osamu couldn’t take it any more. He reeled around, reveling in how the group recoiled.
“Do you really think it’s a good idea to make the ‘freaks’ angry?” he asked, raising his hands. “What if I turned you all into frogs?”
Their leader scoffed, though he didn’t come any closer. “Like you could even do that.”
“How do you think we got our class pet?” Osamu jumped forward, and with a chorus of screams the kids turned and ran off.
Among them was Tatsuki.
—
Osamu had always known his brother was more adventurous than him, unwilling to settle for life as is without demanding more. They both knew he wasn’t going to stay, and on their eighteenth birthday they sat together in the darkness on Osamu’s bed.
“Where will you go?” Osamu asked.
“Anywhere the wind sees fit to bring me,”
“What if the wind never decides to bring you back here? I might never see you again.”
“Of course you’re gonna see me again, we’re gonna grow old together! Probably die on the same day after swapping all our stories of our time apart.”
Osamu huffed a laugh. “You swear?”
Atsumu grabbed his knife from the bedside table, the blade illuminated by moonlight as he drew it across his palm leaving a thin trail of scarlet. “My blood.”
Osamu held out his own hand, and another scarlet line was made.
“Your blood,” Atsumu said, before clasping their hands together. “Our blood.”
Osamu grinned at him, his eyes a little watery. The same expression reflected back at him on Atsumu’s face, who pulled him into a hug. “I love you, ‘Samu. I know you don’t wanna leave just yet, but promise me you’ll go after what you want when you find it? ‘Cause otherwise on our deathbed I’ll have been way happier than you.”
Osamu sniffled. “Wanna bet?”
—
Atsumu left their small island one evening not long after graduation, waving broadly to Osamu and Aunt Kaori where they stood on the porch as his girlfriend laughed in the driver's seat, excited for their future together. It wouldn’t ultimately end up being a long future, as not even two weeks later Atsumu sent a letter informing his family they’d broken up amicably, but those two weeks were “glorious”. Aunt Kaori had chuckled affectionately and Osamu while rolled his eyes, returning to the passage of his textbook discussing egg yolks with a mental note to write him back later.
They swapped letters back and forth as the years went by. Atsumu regaled him with tales of his travels and descriptions of what beautiful person he was sharing a bed with that week. In return, Osamu told him about his culinary studies and part-time job in the city at a lively new restaurant. He visited Aunt Kaori frequently, spending his breaks from school tinkering with his recipes in her familiar kitchen as she watched, drinking tea and making suggestions of heightening lunacy.
“You should add ginger, the flavors will blend well.”
“I don’t like ginger, but thank you,”
“What about lemon?”
“Too acidic, it’ll clash with the curry.”
“Lavender?”
Osamu braced both palms against the counter and took a steadying breath.
“Lavender?” he echoed.
Aunt Kaori hummed in affirmation.
“Why are you suggesting love potion ingredients?”
He glanced at her in time to see her affronted expression.
“My dear nephew, how could you accuse me of such things?” She stood, nearly knocking over her stool and spilling her tea in the process, and swept over to him with her arms outstretched. He tried to duck out of the way, but time had seemingly not gotten its clutches on Miya Kaori yet and she was every bit as agile as she’d been when he was a child. Before he could flee, she’d wrapped him in a hug and planted a smacking kiss to his cheek.
“So I want you to be happy, Osamu, sue me! There’s a very nice boy-”
Still struggling against her iron grip, Osamu suddenly went still. “You didn’t say anything to him, right? It’s not worth it, you know it won’t go anywhere because of my spell.”
Aunt Kaori sighed, finally releasing him. “That was a spell for true love, Osamu. A relationship can still be just as wonderful and worthwhile, it’s not like you have to marry him! I just worry about you, cooped up in your apartment in that big city all alone, cooking ‘til your arms are about to fall off. I want you to be happy!”
He couldn’t help but grin despite himself. “I am happy. But I promise I’ll make a better effort to get out, okay? You have to promise you won’t meddle, though!”
Her tinkling laugh was the only response he got, floating down the hallway as she left him in the kitchen with his curry and his thoughts.
Goddammit. Lavender would pair well with the curry.
—
True to his word, he made more of an effort when he returned to Tokyo. Shiin was a regular customer at the restaurant, and one evening when Osamu had his standard order ready and waiting, he got a phone number scrawled on a napkin in return.
Things started slowly, a text here and there asking about the other’s day, their weekend plans. It turned into coffee dates and walks through the park as the leaves turned golden yellow above them, leaning close together under the guise of hearing each other better. Snow fell and Osamu brought Shiin to meet Aunt Kaori over Christmas dinner. He complimented her curry, saying she must be where Osamu got his talent from. Aunt Kaori was positively beaming.
Shiin headed back to the city a day early, work calling him away for some emergency that needed to be settled before the new year. Osamu and Aunt Kaori spent the rest of the day drinking eggnog and baking all sorts of Christmas cookies. He was munching a fresh lemon sugar cookie when a knock at the door signaled the arrival of the mail. Aunt Kaori insisted on sending Mr. Irihata on his way with a tin of cookies and returned to the kitchen with a letter from Atsumu.
I’ll be starting the new year with a broken heart, I’m sure of it. I met the most beautiful man yesterday, then he introduced me to his boyfriend. They said they’re not looking for a third, but they’ve been nice enough to let me stay in their guest room for a few days. I told them all about the island and 'Samu’s restaurant, so if you run into an Aran and Kita, treat them nice and tell them I’ll always consider them the ones that got away.
—
Osamu unlocked the door, toeing off his shoes while keeping the takeout bag in his hands away from the energetic collie bouncing around him.
“I’m home!” he called out. Shiin emerged from their bedroom, yawning widely and holding a blanket around him like a cocoon.
“Bana, c’mere,” he cooed.
She bounded over to him, eagerly anticipating a treat. By the time she realized he had nothing for her, Osamu had stashed the food safely on the counter and came over to kiss his boyfriend.
“Hey there,” he said, slipping his hands underneath the warm blanket. Shiin hissed as Osamu’s cold hands came to rest on his back.
“You’re terrible,” Shiin laughed, kissing the tip of Osamu’s nose. “So cruel to me,”
“Cruel, huh? Would a terrible, cruel boyfriend bring you salmon onigiri he slaved over for hours and hours?”
“I’ve seen you in the kitchen, babe. I know it doesn’t take you hours.”
They migrated to the kitchen, Bana’s interest renewed as they unpacked their dinner. Osamu regaled his boyfriend with the tale of a horrible customer, Shiin told him about the progress he’d made on his client’s project, and Bana sat beneath the table, her eyes eagerly scanning for any dropped scraps. It was cozy and nice and comfortable.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
“No,” Osamu gasped out, cutting Shiin off mid sentence.
“Osamu? Are you alright?”
“Fine- I’m fine. I’m sorry. You were saying?”
He slept poorly that night, Shiin’s gentle breathing at odds with the insistent tick. Tick. Tick.
—
“It didn’t work! The stupid fucking spell was supposed to protect me!”
“Osamu-”
He whirled around to look at Aunt Kaori. She was reaching out to him, her hand hovering in the space between them, desperation in her gaze. And Osamu knew.
“Aunt Kaori,” he began, his voice breaking. “Aunt Kaori, you didn’t.”
“I’m sorry, Osamu, I’m so sorry, I just wanted to help, to make sure you were happy-”
“Bring him back.”
“What?”
“This happened because you meddled, so fix it. Please, you have to bring him back.” He was crying again, gasping for air as he begged.
There was true remorse in her eyes, but her voice had a stark finality to it when she replied, “No.”
“Why not?” he demanded.
“Death magic often goes.. wrong. It’s not worth the risk.”
“Shiin is worth any risk, please bring him back, I love him!”
He finally saw, so many years later, what that young woman must have seen the night she begged his aunt for the same thing. Aunt Kaori’s light purple magic crackled around her clenched hands as she glared at him.
“You don’t know what you’re asking me to do,” she spat out. “No one ever does, but I won’t have that darkness in my house ever again, do you hear me?”
He turned away, slamming the door behind him as he went.
—
Life in the city felt dull without Shiin, so after the funeral Osamu packed up Bana and the apartment and moved back into the old house with Aunt Kaori. He didn’t bring up their argument again, and she seemed content to leave the tension behind them. He spent most of the first couple weeks in the house, only venturing into town once for lemongrass Aunt Kaori needed for a potion she was brewing.
As he stared blankly at the magazine racks in the checkout line, he heard his name from behind him. He turned to see Tatsuki, a basket of groceries in one hand and the hand of a young girl in the other.
“Oh, hey. It’s, um, it’s nice to see you,” Osamu said.
Before the other man could respond, a woman came up and picked up the girl, smiling at Tatsuki. With a dull thud that barely registered compared to the constant pain his heart was in these days, he recognized her as Maiko, a classmate that had only abstained from the teasing ritual because Atsumu once accidentally made the flowers she picked on the playground wither in her hand.
She looked at him, and Osamu watched her tighten her grip on their daughter.
“You’re back, then? We’d heard one of you was. With any luck, your brother will stay away at least. It’s not safe for the children to have you people running around.”
“Maiko-” Tatsuki began, but his wife cut him off.
“Let’s go.”
Osamu watched them disappear down an aisle.
“Don’t mind them!” a voice chirped. Osamu jumped and turned to find a short, orange haired man. “She comes into the post office every now and then, I think she’s always in a bad mood.”
Osamu chuckled and offered his hand. “I’m Osamu Miya.”
“Shoyo Hinata, nice to meet you!”
—
The months passed and the ache in Osamu’s chest dulled some. It still jolted through him like lightning when Shiin’s favorite song came on the radio or someone with notes of amber in their cologne walked by, but the constant heartbreak seemed on the mend and Osamu came back to life, bit by bit. He began testing recipes again and occasionally went to the store with Aunt Kaori to carry her bags and grab new ingredients.
She returned from a solo trip into town one day brimming with excitement and waving a newspaper at him as Bana bounced alongside her. He squinted against the bright afternoon sun up at her, shielding his eyes and most definitely smearing dirt across his forehead in the process.
“Osamu, the diner is out. Earl’s retiring and his kids never had his love for food, so the building’s up for sale, see, here’s the listing right here.”
“What am I supposed to do with a building?”
“Don’t be dense! You can’t just do this forever!”
“You’re the one who asked me to prune the roses,” he replied dryly.
She whacked him lightly on the head with the newspaper.
“Owning a restaurant was your dream, and I think it still is. At least think about it, yeah?”
He agreed just to get her off his back, but he’d have been lying if he said the idea didn’t have any appeal. It hovered at the edges of his thoughts and clamored for his attention in quiet moments. The pull of working in a proper kitchen again, serving his food, was too great to resist.
He sent a photo of him in front of the new Onigiri Miya storefront to Atsumu.
It feels like so many parts of me died with Shiin, that so many things that used to make me happy were out of the question. I didn’t know just how much I missed cooking, I almost cried when I made my first onigiri in the shop.
Aunt Kaori’s off visiting friends, it feels so weird to be in this house alone.
I haven’t used magic since Shiin died. I miss him. I miss you. I hope the wind brings you home soon, even for just a visit.
—
Osamu handed the young woman in front of him her takeout bag and her change with a smile and polite “Come again soon”. He sagged against the counter as soon as her back was to him, cushioning his face with his arms. Onigiri Miya was officially two years old and he was officially exhausted.
The bell above the door jingled merrily, accompanied by cheerful, out of tune whistling. The sound had gotten very familiar after Mr. Irihata finally retired.
“Ah, delivery already?” he asked.
Shoyo grinned widely. “Yes, sir!”
“Counter’s perfect, Shoyo, thank you.”
“You got it!” He deposited a small pile of mail next to the cash register with a flourish and headed on his way, the whistling resuming. Osamu opened a small box from an apothecary on the mainland and flipped through the packets of dried herbs. He shoved them into his jacket pocket, making a mental note to put them in the greenhouse when he got home, and turned his attention to a letter from Atsumu.
I started seeing a new guy a few weeks ago, I think he might have a girlfriend or something because he’s really dodgy about going back to his place. We started out in motel rooms in his town, then packed up and just started driving. Our spontaneous road trip has been fun, we’ve been fucking our way through motels and sometimes parking lots in his car if a town doesn’t have any rooms available. We’re headed back your way, actually, though Akuji isn’t the kind of guy I’d bring home. Aunt Kaori would probably hate him. We have been having fun, but that’s all it is.
—
The sound of the telephone from the hall jolted Osamu awake, tearing him away from dreams of vivid green eyes. He stumbled out of bed, rubbing his eyes as he made his way to the phone with Bana on his heels.
“Hello?” he said dumbly into the receiver, leaning his forehead against the wall as his eyelids began to droop.
“‘Samu? ‘Samu, I need-” the rest of his words were cut off by glass breaking and a loud thunk of the receiver on the other end hitting the ground.
“Atsumu? Are you there, can you hear me? Are you okay?” Osamu yelled, all tiredness forgotten.
Indistinct arguing was the only response he got for several long, agonizing minutes. He couldn’t make out any words, but from the sound of things Atsumu and presumably Akuji were moving around the room, their voices growing louder then receding as they moved around the forgotten phone.
Finally, a loud slam punctuated the argument and the other end of the line was silent for a few moments before crackling lightly as it was lifted back into the air.
“‘Samu, are you still there?”
“Are you okay? What happened?”
“Akuji’s just drunk is all, he left to go cool down, it’ll be okay.”
“No, ‘Tsumu, you can’t be serious. There’s no way in hell-”
“I’m fine, no need to worry. I’ll talk to you later, okay? Sorry for waking you-”
“Atsumu.”
Atsumu’s rambling was cut off by a shaky inhale.
“Yeah?”
“Has this happened before? Has he hurt you?”
“It’s not like that, he’s not a bad guy, he just gets a little out of control when he drinks-”
“Answer the question.”
Another shaky breath. “Yes,” Atsumu whispered.
“Where are you, I’m coming to get you.”
—
Osamu gripped the steering wheel tightly. His eyes were focused on the darkening road ahead, only straying occasionally to refer to the directions he’d hastily jotted down. Please let Atsumu be okay. Please don’t let me be too late.
He made the final turn into the gravel parking lot of a shabby motel, the neon sign flickering every so often. Stepping out of his car, Osamu looked around warily as he pocketed his keys. There weren’t many other cars in the lot and not a soul in sight, the few crickets braving the early spring evening the only other sound besides his feet crunching in the gravel. He made his way up the stairs and down the row of rooms, his eyes straining to read the numbers in the red neon light. Finally, he found room twenty three and knocked softly. The door cracked open, enough light spilling out to reveal the cracked teal paint around a tarnished number plate.
“‘Samu?”
“It’s me, are you ready to go?”
“I- yeah, just a second.” The door opened wider, and Osamu’s breath caught in his throat. It had been so long since he’d seen his brother, too long, and here he finally was. His hair was messy, presumably from the fight with Akuji, but it seemed time had taught Atsumu a valuable lesson on hair care. The straw color from childhood was now a soft platinum, contrasted against a deep tan from so much time on the road.
Osamu stepped forward and pulled him into a hug. “I missed you, dumbass,” he whispered, and in response Atsumu squeezed him tighter.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
They hurried down the steps, across the parking lot, and just reached Osamu’s car when it all went to shit.
“Aww, ‘Tsumu,” drawled a deep voice that made his skin crawl. “This your way of apologizin’, bringin’ your brother for me so I can play with both of you?”
“Fuck off,” Atsumu snarled, shoving Akuji’s arm away from where it’d begun to creep around his shoulders. “We’re done.”
“Oh, you think so, do you?”
He stepped forward, pressing Atsumu back against the car. Osamu’s heart raced as he caught sight of the gun on Akuji’s hip.
“What’d’you say we all go for a little drive, get to know each other better?” He cast a leering smile at Osamu.
Neither brother moved. Osamu wasn’t sure he was even breathing. Akuji slammed his palm on the roof of the car right behind Atsumu’s head, and Atsumu flinched violently. “Now, don’t make me have to be the bad guy. I said we’re going for a drive.”
Without another word, Atsumu climbed into the backseat. Osamu obliged slowly, starting the car as Akuji got in beside him. In the confines of the car, the smell of tequila wafting off him was nauseating, made worse every time he took a swig from the bottle loosely grasped in one massive hand. They pulled out of the parking lot, and Osamu mindlessly turned left.
You have to do something. You have to get Atsumu away-
Akuji’s hand that wasn’t occupied by the tequila bottle found his knee and began sliding up his thigh. Osamu jolted, the car lurching to the side from the action, and his head bounced off the window.
“Woah, there,” Akuji said with a dark chuckle. “Looks like I’ll have to take my time with you. Not like your brother, he was practically begging me to fuck him the first night we met.”
A small sniffle from the backseat seemed to escape Akuji’s attention, but Osamu’s eyes shifted to the rearview mirror where he caught sight of Atsumu’s tear streaked face looking back at him.
I have to get us out of here.
They were heading back the way he’d come, a long dirt road with seemingly nothing to offer besides a shitty motel. There was no chance of finding another person or even a pay phone all the way out here.
He shifted in his seat, and his pocket crinkled. Osamu’s eyes didn’t leave the road even as they widened in realization.
“Pull over, sweetheart, I gotta piss,” Akuji said, leaning over the center console so close his breath ghosted over Osamu’s neck.
This was his chance, their chance, to get away. Osamu eased the car off to the side of the road, unable to keep his gaze from flitting to the tequila bottle every few seconds. Akuji swung his door open, the bottle still grasped in his hand.
“Wait!” Osamu said desperately, grabbing his wrist. “Can you leave that here? I- I want some, too.”
Akuji patted his cheek and Osamu fought against the instinct to recoil from the touch. “‘Course, sweetheart. I’ll be right back.”
He swung himself out of the car, and as soon as he was out of sight behind a scraggly bush, Osamu fished the herb packets out of his jacket, sorting through them with trembling fingers until he found what he was looking for and grabbed the tequila from the passenger seat.
“What are you doing?” Atsumu hissed from the back seat. Osamu ignored him, tearing the envelope open and emptying half the contents into the bottle. Footsteps approaching the car made him jolt and replace the cap before shaking it hastily. As Akuji got back in, Osamu removed the cap once more and pretended to take a sip before passing it back with the sweetest smile he could muster. Akuji smiled back, more of a leer than anything, though he was unquestionably excited that Osamu seemed interested. He took a deep swig from the bottle, then stared down at it with a frown.
“This tastes-”
Osamu turned the key in the ignition, the engine drowning out the rest of the sentiment. Osamu grabbed the bottle and took another mock drink before passing it to Atsumu with a meaningful glance. His brother complied, his pantomime piss-poor but good enough to fool Akuji, who had half the bottle already in his system. They continued passing the bottle, Akuji’s words slurring further and further until they stopped all together.
Osamu pulled over once again and looked at him closely. His eyes had slid shut and he was slumped inelegantly against the window.
“He’s asleep,” Osamu whispered.
“Belladonna?” Atsumu whispered back.
Osamu nodded. Akuji definitely tasted it, but Atsumu could smell it.
“Let’s ditch him and get the fuck out of here.”
Two doors slammed shut as the twins stepped around the car to the passenger side. Atsumu opened the door and Akuji tumbled down. Osamu grasped him by the underarms and tugged him fully out onto the road.
“Check the trunk, I think I have a roll of duct tape.”
Atsumu disappeared from view and returned with the half empty roll of tape. “This is nothing a simple binding spell can’t do, are you still not using magic?”
“Can we talk about this later? I’d love to get out of here before he wakes up.”
Atsumu rolled his eyes, but held Akuji’s wrists together as Osamu bound them with tape. Looking closely at his face, Atsumu grimaced. “He looks.. not so great.”
“Yeah, well, no one ever said you didn’t have shitty taste.”
“No, like, he looks.. bad.”
Osamu paused, looking at the equally unmoving man on the ground before him.
“He’ll be fine, right? I just added enough to pass him out for a while.” He leaned into the car, grabbing the envelope from his seat. They looked at the contents together, and Osamu let out a strangled sound at how little was left.
“‘Samu.. how much did you give him?”
Osamu stared at his brother, then at the dead body by their feet, shaking his head in disbelief. “It was just supposed to knock him out for a while.”
“C’mon,” Atsumu said, shaking his shoulder to snap him out of it. “We can fix this, we just need Aunt Kaori’s book. Help me get him into the car.”
With some difficulty and more than a few muttered curses, they managed to heave his tall frame into the trunk. They got back in the car, Osamu’s hands shaking so badly with adrenaline he could barely get the keys in the ignition.
“Hey,” Atsumu said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “He’ll be fine. We’ll be fine.
He nodded without conviction. They drove in silence. Osamu’s mind strayed from the road as he tried to recall what the resurrection spell entailed. They’d seen the spell in Aunt Kaori’s book that she refused to cast. For Shiin, for the young woman so many years ago. He gripped the steering wheel tightly.
Rain pattered lightly against the windshield as they entered town and fell in heavy windswept torrents by the time they reached the house. They made quick work of dragging Akuji into the kitchen, but the three of them were still soaked to the skin as they laid him on the island. Atsumu left to fetch the book and Osamu eyed their hostage warily, thinking he would not be too happy with them when he came back. His hands were still taped, and Osamu bound his ankles together as well. Once he was satisfied, he pulled the gun from Akuji’s belt and tucked it into his own waistband.
Atsumu returned, leafing through the book as he walked with Bana trotting at his heels, her tail wagging.
“Got it!” he said.
He began to read from the book, his magic surrounding Akuji’s body with a faint glow. Akuji’s eyes snapped open. Osamu hardly dared to breathe as Atsumu edged closer to the island.
“Hey, Akuji. Can you hear me?” he asked cautiously. Akuji turned his head to look at them and the hairs in the back of Osamu’s neck stood up. Bana whined softly beside him.
“‘Tsumu,” he whispered urgently.
Akuji sat up slowly. Atsumu smiled encouragingly. “Do you know who I am?”
He took another step forward, just close enough for Akuji to lurch forward and get his arms around Atsumu’s neck, haul him close, and begin to squeeze. Osamu lunged forward, trying to pry him off. Bana was barking loudly now, her vocal alarm a horrible contrast with Atsumu’s silent pleas for help. Osamu was clawing at Akuji’s arm, and he looked into the other man’s eyes.
When he was alive the first time he’d been an unpleasant person. There wasn’t an ounce of humanity left in him now, only fury left burning in his darkened eyes and a twisted pleasure in choking the life out of someone.
Osamu pulled Akuji’s gun from his belt, aimed, and fired.
Akuji slumped forward, dead once more. His grip immediately slackened and Atsumu alternated gasping for breath and coughing. It was the most beautiful sound Osamu had ever heard for about two seconds before the reality of the situation set in.
“We’re fucked.”
—
Once Atsumu’s lungs were back in working order, Osamu sent him to the shed to retrieve a garden shovel. Once he was gone, Osamu turned his attention to the body.
Aunt Kaori’s gonna kill us, he thought as he hoisted Akuji’s body up into the world’s worst piggyback ride. Bana followed close behind him as he slowly made his way to the front yard. Atsumu met them by the rose bed, spade in hand and freshly soaked once more from the unyielding rain.
They took turns digging, carefully uprooting each rose bush and placing them to the side. Once they were out, the brothers widened the hole until it could fit all six feet and then some of this nightmare. Osamu was shivering as he replaced the first rose bush, and Atsumu’s teeth were chattering when he patted wet dirt around the last one.
They stumbled through the house silently, past the living room and Bana’s sleeping form (having abandoned their efforts long ago) up to their old room. Osamu shucked his wet tshirt and jeans and fell into his bed with a sigh, but Atsumu hesitated in the doorway.
“It hasn’t changed in here at all,” he said.
Osamu made a noise of assent that was muffled by his pillow.
“I thought- well. I guess I thought, somehow, that I’d never see it again when I left.” He let out a strangled laugh, and Osamu turned his head to look at him.
Atsumu was crying again, but laughing at the same time. Gasping, stilted laughter.
“God, this is so stupid. He was a shitty person, I don’t think he even knew my birthday, why do I care so much?”
“I think it’s normal to care, even if they’ve given you every reason not to.” He thought of Shiin and lavender and looked away. “Even if you’ve given yourself every reason not to.”
He listened to the floor boards creak beneath Atsumu as he crossed the room and climbed into the top bunk. “I’m sorry I never got to meet Shiin. He sounded really special.”
Osamu smiled faintly. “He was.”
“Did he- did he know? About our magic?”
“Not at first, it’s hard to work into first date banter, y’know? But once we started dating for real, he started noticing small things, stuff I didn’t even realize I was doing. Finally, one day we were cooking together and a bowl got knocked off the counter. I floated it without thinking, and the two of us were just looking between the bowl stuck a foot above the floor and each other.” He laughed, and Atsumu joined in.
It had been a weird conversation to be sure. Everyone in town already knew they were magical and already had opinions on it that Osamu had no ability or interest to change. Shiin was different, his rejection would have hurt.
Osamu had been somewhat shocked when the rejection didn’t come and instead, Shiin had responded with starry eyed enthusiasm. The bowl and their dinner were abandoned in favor of Shiin requesting a full demonstration.
“How about the curse?”
Osamu’s laughter faded. “No, I- I really believed he would be safe at first because of my spell. Once I heard the beetle, it was too late. We were already in love.”
Atsumu hummed sympathetically. “What’s it feel like?”
“Being in love? It’s.. it’s hard to describe. It just kinda.. pours out of you, I think. And you can feel it spread out all the way to your fingers and toes, whenever I was with Shiin it just made me feel invincible.”
“So.. it feels like magic?” He sent a spray of sparks over the edge of his bed that fell past Osamu to illustrate his point. “Like literal magic?”
Osamu smiled to himself. “Yeah, it kind of does.”
Atsumu was quiet for a moment. “I hope I feel that some day.”
“You will, just try to ignore your dogshit taste and you’ll get there.”
“Fuck off, he was one bad pick out of the bunch.”
“Yeah, and look how bad of a pick he was. I fucking shot someone in Aunt Kaori’s kitchen.” He let out an involuntary laugh.
“Thanks for that, by the way,” Atsumu said.
“Anytime. And hey, I know the circumstances are shitty, but I’m really glad you’re back.”
“Me too.”
“G’night, ‘Tsumu.”
“Night, ‘Samu.”
He drifted to sleep to the sounds of rain against the window and his brother snoring above him once for the first time in nearly ten years.
—
Aunt Kaori returned early the next morning, long before the brothers woke up after their ordeal. When Osamu shuffled into the kitchen some time past noon, she shrieked in disbelief when Atsumu shambled in behind him.
“You didn’t think to call ahead?” she admonished, the bite undercut by the obvious joy in her voice and the way she was hugging Atsumu so tightly his eyes were bugging out.
“I called ‘Samu,” he said with difficulty. “Last night, and he came and got me. It was a last minute thing.”
She finally released him, beaming at the pair of them. “I’m so glad to have you both back, even if it’s just for a little while. After that storm the garden needs some love, but we’ll celebrate properly tonight!”
—
A proper Miya celebration is one part pineapple juice and two parts coconut rum. Osamu grinned widely at his brother and aunt, affection and alcohol wrapping around him like a warm blanket. Atsumu was batting Aunt Kaori’s hands away from his face as she tried to pinch his cheeks, and he finally resorted to distraction.
“Well, my old radio would play that old Opry show,” he sang.
“So I never got lonesome or blue. I’d fall asleep in my chair and dream that I was right there, just singing the whole night through.” She continued, unable to resist one of her favorite songs.
They danced around the kitchen island, singing at the top of their lungs until they ran out of songs and could hardly catch their breath from laughter. Aunt Kaori slid down the cabinets and leaned against the wall, her nephews quick to join her.
“I’m glad you’re both here. I know you have lives to live and can’t stay with me forever, but I missed you both very much.”
Osamu hiccupped.
“Now do y’all wanna tell me what the hell happened to my roses?”
Osamu froze, Atsumu mirrored across from him with his drink halfway to his lips.
“What’d’ya mean?” Atsumu asked finally.
“The storm was bad, but that’s no cause for the hideous energy stinking up my front yard.”
Osamu swallowed nervously. Atsumu was studying the floor like it might give him a way out of this conversation.
“It- we- Atsumu’s, um, friend was a real dickhead.” he said, scrunching his nose as he tried to string his thoughts together.
Atsumu snorted. Bolstered by the support, he continued, “And so I gave him belladonna to put him to sleep so we could get away, but he died instead. We brought him here and brought him back, but-”
“You did what?” Aunt Kaori asked sharply.
Atsumu looked up. “We brought him back, I know you never use that spell, but we thought it could, y’know, undo everything. But he came back all fucked up, and ‘Samu killed him again, and we buried him.”
“Under your roses.” Osamu finished, nodding along though he wasn’t quite sure why.
Aunt Kaori looked pensive for a moment, then reached up behind her to retrieve the rum from the counter.
“Another round?” she asked, and Osamu remembered nothing after that.
—
Osamu woke up to sunlight burning his retinas, tiny hammers whacking at his head, and Bana snoring loudly in his face. Groaning, he sat up only to narrowly avoid bashing his head into the coffee table. He stood, waited a moment for the room to stop spinning, then followed the alluring smell of fresh coffee to the kitchen.
Atsumu was seated at the table, a steaming mug in his hands as he stared out the window, lost in thought. He didn’t move when Osamu placed a mug of his own on the table, sat down, and poured his own fortifying drink.
“Hey,” Osamu tried, but it came out as a croak through his dry throat. “Atsumu?” he tried again, and this time it broke through. His brother looked at him, his blond hair sticking up in odd places and an overall look of I feel like shit plastered on his face. Osamu could relate.
Atsumu didn’t say anything, just shoved something across the table at him and took a long drink of his coffee.
Osamu picked up the small piece of paper now in front of him and read in Aunt Kaori’s swooping handwriting:
Clean up your mess.