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34.
He's finished spreading out the picnic blanket on one of the wooden tables. These tables weren't here the last time, I don't think - but they're not new, either. It's strange how the years get away from us, Bro. Things change around us, but we're so busy staring straight ahead that we don't even notice until we stop, and pause, and look.
"Mmm, yummy!" I say as I walk over. I slept over at the house so we could wake up early and make our bento lunch together - fried chicken and octopus-shaped wieners and rolled omelette. There's also rice and salad in little compartments, and some pieces of apple that I carved into rabbits. It all looks so good.
The train ride out here didn't take as long as I remembered. Maybe it's because I was smaller then, so time seemed a lot bigger to me? A few hours seems like a much longer time to an eight-year-old than it does to an adult.
"I'm growing up," I murmur, looking down at the two bento boxes. I sit down across from Bro as he pulls two bottles of tea from the insulated bag in his backpack.
There's such a variety of food here, all nestled in the sections of the black plastic boxes. I remember when I only wanted to eat really simple things, like oyako-don. A few ingredients, simply prepared.
The simple things do still have their appeal. I still like oyako-don, especially from the donburi place around the corner from my shop. But sometimes it's good to have a lot of different things to enjoy in one meal, too.
Bro taught me that. When I was hungry, Bro shared with me.
He's looking at me now, a little confused and a lot impatient. "Ready to eat, Kana?" he asks. He must be hungry; he's been lugging that pack all the way up the mountain.
"Itadakimasu!" I say, bowing my head briefly before reaching for my chopsticks.
"Itadakimasu," he agrees, sounding almost relieved. "Mmm, these sausages look great. Takes me back to the old days, when I was a kid."
"It's a lot like that day a long time ago, isn't it?" I ask. "Even our lunches are almost the same."
He shrugs, his mouth full of rice. "I don't really remember. I just remember Kana, the amateur bee-keeper."
I laugh and cough up some omelette. "I'm sorry, Bro. I... I don't even remember what I was trying to-- Oh?"
A drop of rain spatters on the table between us. I shoot a glance up at the sky, which is still mostly blue, except for a patch of grey cloud that's crept up on us unawares.
"It'll be okay, Kana," Bro reassures me. "The forecast said there might be a couple of brief showers, but nothing too heav-- Damn!"
The rain picks up, slashing down at us.
"Move, Kana!" Bro yells, slamming the lids down on our bento boxes and grabbing them as he runs for the small shelter nearby. Giggling, I join him, leaping and bounding to keep up with him. We scramble underneath the shelter and collapse, panting, against the back wall.
"Sure, Bro," I say, between gasps. "Brief showers, nothing too heavy. Maybe we can swim back home."
"It'll pass," he growls, looking out at the distant picnic table where our blanket is getting soaked. Rain plinks into the open tea bottles and streams down the clear plastic. I can see small puddles already forming on the paving stones. I can see the waterfall in the distance, and the forest we walked through to get here. I can see...
...everything.
And it's because of you, Bro. You were the one who pushed me, who told me I needed new eyes. And through every step, you were there supporting me as I looked for the answer. You always wanted what was best for me.
Other things in my life may have been out of focus, but your concern and care - your love for me - has always been clear.
I move closer to Bro's side and slip my arm into his. I rest my head on his shoulder.
"Hey! Kana...?" he asks, jerking slightly in surprise.
"Just till it stops," I say blissfully, nuzzling my cheek against his damp shirt.
"Oh. Well... okay, I guess," he says.
I smile as we watch the rain together, waiting for it to end. Then we can go back out there again. I can see the world through my new eyes, with the brother I love at my side.
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