a guide on how to NOT be a good brother- by Atsumu Miya

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I remember being so excited to finally transfer to a new elementary school. A fresh change. A fresh new school. And a fresh new chapter to my story.

"ATSUMU!" Hearing that in front of the elementary school gates. Someone was calling out to me. Not in excitement, not in satisfaction, and certainly not in happiness. It was rather, in distress. But it was most definitely annoying. It was most definitely him. 

Osamu.

He was calling my name, my twin brother, not because he had fallen over and grazed his knee, or because the books from his unzipped bag had fallen out, but because there was a gang of elementary boys making fun of him, on his first day at this new school- because he looked vulnerable, they were even throwing a few books at him now and then. I didn't spend another millisecond to stop and think about what I was going to do, or rather, what I did. I ran straight to him, standing just a few centimetres in front of him, desperately trying to drive the kids away. They looked horrified. Exactly how Osamu looks at me now. 

Or, at least... how he used to, before my world turned into hell.

They ran off- like a zebra running away from a lion that was hunting down its prey. I looked worryingly into those teary, dark, grey eyes. What innocent eyes they were at the time, helping him up off the floor and pulling him into my arms. This teasing and bullying from the kids lasted the whole few, very long, years we were in that school, almost every single day. Each time he called my name in desperate, heart-aching agony, I was always rushing to be by his side. No one else. Me, just me. 

I remember one time, they hit him, his nose was dripping blood, eyes dripping pitiful tears. But when I got to where he was sitting, his bag on the floor- the stuff inside scattered beside it, it wasn't me there. I wasn't by his side. There was another boy. Slightly shorter than Osamu I'd say. He was wiping his tears. Not me. Comforting him in a way I thought nobody other than me could do. After standing there for a few seconds, processing what was in my line of sight, I ran over to him. Ignoring the other kid that was there. He didn't matter, he wasn't his brother, I was. I pulled Osamu into my arms, holding his head into my chest- and as he was crying, his saddening tears of pain soaking up in my new school shirt, I promised I would protect him for as long as I lived. But I was just a kid then, and everyone knows.. promises don't last.