Into The Water

Chapter Nine: Sister Complex

Life stinks. That's what Daichi thinks, anyway. Life stinks, for kids most of all. He mixed it up in class again today. He had taken things way too far, as usual. Before the teacher could interfere, the confrontation had escalated into classroom warfare, complete with kids throwing anything they could lay their hands on at each other.

With his curly light-brown hair and blue eyes, Daichi focuses on his sister as she shuffles through a set of photos and lays them out on her desk, looking at each, occasionally holding one up. More photos occupy the wall above her, hanging on picture frame wires and clips. He looks closer at one and realizes it's a photo of her friends at the beach. The next photo is of them at Sea World with a flock of penguins in the background.

Mizuki's long light-brown hair frames her face and her smile is wide, as though the photo was snapped mid-laugh. She looks happy and so carefree. It's as though in that moment, she turned back to her younger self.

His memory produces her younger image. Finding his hiding spot in the linen closet, her hair a soft cloud of tousled silk locks, she was smiling down at him after a friendly game of hide-and-seek.

"There you are," she said, and he squealed in delight, embracing her.

Somehow, she's his best friend—his only friend. The obvious love and affection she has for her friends, he feels, ought to be entirely concentrated on him alone. She leads an active social life, and he's jealous of the people around her. It irritates him.

He shoves aside the unwanted trip down memory lane and gets closer.

Floral patterns are a favorite of Mizuki's, and the brighter the colors, the better. The vintage style bed with floral bedding and curtains add life to the room. She's definitely the girly type.

Jazz related posters adorn the walls. She also has a record player―a vintage thing, the sort most people had replaced with small digital devices, and a stack of old vinyl records on a small table. In the remote corner is her sax stand, holding the instrument.

There's a plush cat bed near her desk—but no cat. Daichi's blue eyes sparkle mischievously at this. He sits on Mizuki's bed, no doubt waiting for her to make the first move.

"I heard you decided to toss your classroom?" she finally turns around, making eye contact for the first time.

"Kentaro started it," Daichi mumbles.

"Someone else always does."

He shrugs, not caring.

"I thought we talked about throwing things in the classroom," she says. "Mom and dad worry about the kids getting brained with a book—" she approaches him "—or your backpack. Or your shoe—"

"I didn't hurt anyone."

"You get yourself in trouble every day, and you don't get along with any of your classmates—especially this Kentaro."

"He's a pain in the—"

"He's not your problem."

"He said—"

"He called dad a big loser." Mizuki sighs. "I know all about it. You can't completely lose it every time someone insults you. If you can't keep it together with the other kids in class—"

"No one talks bad about my family."

"Having temper tantrums isn't the answer." Mizuki is so concerned about Daichi's behavior, it makes her want to throw things herself. "What's gotten into you lately?" she asks with care. "You weren't such a troublemaker."

Daichi's scowl rearranges itself into something fiercer. Something near tears.

Mizuki's cell-phone rings. She answers and braces for Gou's voice on the other line. "It's time for the tournament! Don't make me come up there, because I will drag you out of the house."