Lemon Incest c4

Since my father’s sudden passing in a car accident, I had sold the house I grew up in and purchased an apartment in a newly built complex that was in the same neighbourhood. Similarly, at around the same time, Misao moved from Tsukudajima into an apartment in the same complex, as if she were following in my footsteps.

I needed a lot of courage to get rid of the old house that was filled with memories of my father. I had suggested that Misao and I live together in the house, but she had turned that invitation down. Misao’s reason for this was that the house was filled to the brim with his memories, and that if possible, she wanted to forget and to forge a new life for herself.

The thought never crossed my mind that she would buy an apartment in the same complex as me. I can’t say that I didn’t worry that living in such close proximity would lead to us having the same kind of relationship as if we lived under one roof. There is a danger of closeness of blood ties at times encroaching on the other’s privacy.

We didn’t care about what time the other came home or whether the other was at home right now. Similarly, it came as no surprise then that we didn’t know who visited the other’s apartment.

That’s not to say though that there weren’t days when Misao called me on her night off and asked if I wanted to have dinner with her, saying that she had made a mountain of pork dumplings or that she had prepared a hotpot. Likewise, there were times when I was lonely for a person’s companion and I called her to ask if she wanted to go for a drink somewhere. But these weren’t weekly events. Normally, we just lived in our separate apartments and lived our separate lives and so it goes without saying that we didn’t know what the other was doing.

Even when I caught a cold and got a fever, I didn’t go to her each time for help. I didn’t call her asking her if she could go and buy me some cold medicine, and I didn’t ask her if she could cook something for me.

Even then though, there was no denying the significance of her presence in my life. She wasn’t a mother figure, and she wasn’t a friend either. And it wasn’t that she was just a relative I trusted. She felt something much deeper…a strong invisible bond tied us together.

He said, “This is Iwasaki,” and for a second, I didn’t know who he was. I was naked on my bed, as I said, “Oh, hi.” As I said this, I glanced in the direction of the bathroom.

There was a part of me that wondered why he would call now of all times. I couldn’t bothered to talk.

I sat up, feeling uncomfortable as if he had caught me in the act, and I threw on a gown that was nearby.

“It’s fine.”

“Don’t bother. I’m at home right now, but it wasn’t as if I was asleep.”

“Everyone always tells me that my voice on the phone sounds like I’m in a bad mood. That’s just the way I am. Don’t worry about it.”

I sensed Muda stepping out of the shower room. He then let out a sneeze— a loud one.

The door was open. For a passing moment I thought “he might’ve heard,” but then as soon as I thought that, I told myself “so what if he did?” There’s no way that he would care that there was a man in the room of his sister who he had just recently reunited with after twenty four years apart at 1:00 am in the morning and that the said person had just let out a loud sneeze.

“Same here,” I replied. I reached over for the package of Marlboro on the side table and took out a cigarette and lit it. It was as if Shougo was watching me do this, because he was silent for a brief moment.

I shrugged. What we were talking about wasn’t unpleasant by any means, but I wasn’t in the mood to drag it out further.

After all this time, I didn’t have the desire to remember back to and talk about the incident that had happened so long ago. And it goes without saying that I didn’t want to get all emotional and talk about how we shared the same blood and yet we were separated for so long. Maybe this reluctance to involve myself in this was a way of me trying to protect myself— I didn’t really know for sure.

“Did you just finish your part time job?” I ignored Muda, and rifled through my package of Marlboros for another cigarette. It was clear from his expression that he was displeased.

“Do you work every night?”

“So what, while you’re working, are you alone with that gay owner of your shop?”

“Are you on your way home? Or were you thinking of a way to slip into your girlfriend’s apartment?”

“So is that why you suddenly remembered me and called?”

The way he said “you” unsettled me for some reason. He would probably find it uncomfortable to call me “Mio-san,” and it’s not as if he could start calling me “sis” after all this time had passed, but the way he said “you” made me feel as if that was something he shouldn’t say.

“ ‘A friend’? You mean, the café owner?”

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I guess that’s none of my business. Please just forget I asked that.”

“What are you doing tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow. If you’re free, would you like to get together? — Even the day after tomorrow would be okay for me. I’ll work with your schedule. I can always change my work schedule.”

As I gazed absent-mindedly at the wide-span of his back that was sprinkled with familiar moles, I said: “You’re a strange one, you know that?”

“It’d only be boring for you to meet with me. We’d never even met until now, and if it wasn’t for the other day, we might’ve led our entire lives never seeing each other. There’s no way that you’d enjoy seeing someone like that multiple times.”

“We found out that we both hate celery and picked plums,” I laughed lightly. “Isn’t that enough?”

“How did you know?”

I brushed aside my hair that had fallen across my cheek and smiled, “You’re pretty observant, I’m guessing?”

I hesitated before saying, “If it’s in the evening, I wouldn’t mind.”

When I ended the call after deciding on the place and time, Muda turned to me to ask: “Who was that?”

He raised his eyebrow slightly and said, “Your younger brother, huh? Is he good looking?”

“No reason,” he replied as he smiled. Wearing only his underwear, he embraced me from behind on the bed. “You know you wouldn’t hear the end of it from me if he wasn’t your brother, you know that?”

“He’s my real brother,” I repeated it like a mantra as I reluctantly allowed Muda, who gave off the scent of soap to reach out for a kiss.

By the tie I went to the entrance of the fashion building on Aoyama street the next day at around seven o’clock, Shougo was already waiting, and he turned to me with a smile. His innocent, carefree grin relaxed me.

“Not at all,” he responded, and he briskly began to walk ahead of me. It was a night that gave off the scent of Autumn. The Japanese maple trees lining the streets had begun to turn colors, and the night wind gave off a coldness that hinted at the winter that was fast approaching.

It was a restaurant that a guy had taken me to before. He was someone who frequented Muda’s café— a slightly high-strung, self-proclaimed director. The stories about famous actors that he bragged about sounded only like lies to me, but strangely enough, I caught glimpses of a simple-hearted side.

It was just one night of passion. About a month after, he killed himself after having thrown himself in front of the train. There was no suicide letter, and because there was found to be no good reason for him having to kill himself, it was ruled that it was something that he did in the fit of the moment.

We sat on the right end of the counter, and we ordered some drinks and two or three appetizers from the restaurant owner, who looked like surliness personified. A short time later, the drinks and food arrived. I pressed the small sake cup in his direction, and he thanked me as he took it into his hand.

“Do you come here often?”

“It doesn’t feel like we’re in the middle of Tokyo.”

“That whistling sound… is that wind?”

“It also sounds kind of like sleet, like you’re in some large cave and the snow is whirling outside and you’re just listening to the sound of wind…”

“Neither. I know it may not look that way, but I’m actually quite a logical and realistic person.”

I shrugged my shoulder and said: “Who knows?”

“Multiple personalities?”

As I prodded the daikon radish kabob glazed with miso, I realized just how hungry I was. I skimmed through the menu and placed an order for another few items. I didn’t ask once what he wanted.

“You speak in a brisk way, don’t you?”

“You always look like you’re in a bad mood, but in reality you’re not. I get the sense that there are no sharp curves in your feelings.”

“You’re not— not at all. If you really were, you wouldn’t be so popular with men.”

“Well, you have a boyfriend, don’t you?”

“Does he give you money?”

“If you don’t receive a monthly allowance from him, then I don’t think you can call yourself his lover.”

When he rolled his eyes in an exasperated manner, I laughed, and he joined in on the laughter.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I do have friends that are girls who would hang out with me if I called them– but no more than usual. I don’t know if I would refer to them as my girlfriend though…”

“No, I’m not.”

“I just knew the fact that there were techniques out there to make girls pay attention to you. Don’t get me wrong– I’m not bragging. It’s just, there’s no way that a guy would have girls interested in him if he only stood off to the side without doing anything. That’s where techniques come in, and as long as you master those, it works with pretty much anyone. If it involves a job that feeds your livelihood, then even more so. It’s easy to suppress self-respect to do so. It just means I was able to do something detestable like that. That doesn’t mean though that I’m popular with girls in anyway.”

The only thing that was different from Shougo though, was that my father never considered what he did as “detestable.” Whenever he was focused on a woman, my father was always simple and honest. For him, each and every time was his last love, and in no time, that “last love” would give way to a new love.

But I didn’t open up to Shougo about that. I couldn’t get in the mood to talk to him about my memories of our father. Even if a time to open up about such things would come in the future, at the very least, on this night, I wanted to see Shougo as a “guy I met by chance,” rather than the “biological brother I reunited with after being the puppet of fortune.”

“Is it okay if I got back to the topic at hand?”

“ ‘The topic at hand’?”

“If you want to, go right ahead.”

“That’s not true. You’re just imagining things.”

“My mother… well, the person who raised me was a generous and kind woman. She was always ready to lend a ear, and when it came time to give opinions she was able to give them, and there were times she could get emotional. I always felt at peace when I was with her. It was a wonder that I had no mother complex.”

“I’ve thought about it a lot since I found out about all this,, and I still can’t believe she was someone who would do something so outrageous. She was a housewife—the kind that could be found in any household; she was that kind of woman.”

“He was a bit of a mystery to me. At any rate, he was someone who divorced my mother when I was only eight, after all. He wasn’t one to spend his time around the house, and he was always off on a business trip or other. I don’t really have a concrete memory of having done anything with him. Since he was someone who always was with one woman or another, he was always out spending time with them– he was probably too focused on that to do anything at home. But he was affectionate towards me–as any father would to his child.”

“If he hasn’t been transferred from the company he was working at, then he is probably still working there as an employee; maybe he’s even advanced in position. I haven’t kept in touch with him though. Even when my mother passed away, I didn’t try to contact him.”

He breathed in lightly and let out a small puff of air: “My mother always told me that no matter what happened to her, to never contact him.”

“Can I ask one thing?”

“When Misao-chan suddenly… oh, by Misao-chan, I mean my aunt. I call her that. Anyhow, she was the one who contradicted everything you had ever known, right? What an appalling story. No matter how you think about it, it’s no story cutter tale– you were told that this mother who had raised you was in actuality a kidnapper. It must’ve meant that the very instant you heard this, your identity vanished in front of your very eyes; I’m surprised you were able to stay so calm. Why is it? Is it just because you’re strong?”

I laughed: “The eye of the storm, huh? That makes sense. If only you could stay in that one spot forever. Putting aside what happened to you, I think it’s the same for all humans— if only they could all stay in that sweet spot from the time they are born until the day they die. What a carefree life that would be.”

“Oh, and before I forget– I want to ask one more thing.”

“What should I call you? You probably don’t want to be called ‘Masao,’ do you?”

“Okay then, I’ll do that.”

“You can just call me that.”

“I don’t mind if you just call me ‘Mio’. I don’t care. Just don’t call me ‘sis’ or anything like that, okay?”

“Do you even need to ask? Just so we’re clear here: I still haven’t reached a point where I’ve accepted you as my brother and I’m able to treat you like a sister would a brother; it’s probably the same for you though.”

“That’s why, give me a break when it comes to that, all right?”

“You would? Why?”

“How ridiculous,” I said and laughed to cover my surprised reaction as I accepted the refill of my sake cup from him. The lukewarm sweet liquid burned my throat. The inside of the restaurant was dim and I could hear the wind blowing past as strong as ever.

I commented: “If only you weren’t my brother.”

“If you weren’t, I might just have turned you into my lover tonight.”

He didn’t reply. He simply picked up a piece of grilled fish with his chopsticks and brought it to his mouth as he commented: “It’s been a while since I’ve had a meal this delicious.”

Chapter end