Cw : fauxcest, naoya, misogyny, older brother/little sister, jjk incest. Baby sister Reader x Older brother Naoya, no use of y/n.
Chattering murmurs, ever so often broken by chestfull laughs are impossible to ignore at night, especially if accompanied by the smell of sake and smoke that clogs and grips at inexperienced lungs, dampening and penetrating each bamboo made material, which unfortunately was most of the house.
Forget sleep, their conversation was so loud, someone could simply bend the ear towards the pavement and listen clearly word for word about sorcerer politics, arranged marriages and the same shitty tasteless misogynist jokes. It's maddening how older men have a lack of sense of self, really, you'd think after hanging out with her brother for most of the evening, the urge to leave, simply even out of respect, would pop in their mind " No, we don't want to be of bother" are words never to be spared and the rest of the men in this household pay little to no mind, sleeping just fine.
Maybe she's being overdramatic, actually no, over sensible like Naoya always says at any show of her discomfort: downplaying, ignoring until forced to apologize for whatever matter he didn't think mattered at all, like sleeping.Sleep, such a basic need, the average person can stay awake for 72 hours before going insane. Three are already unbearable by themselves,hanging low on her face, dark circles threatening to form under the heavy and groggy eyes.
Another laugh jolts from below, ripping out a yawn from her; it's like a never ending cycle : too awake to fall asleep, too irritated to stay awake, she begged for the sandman's warm embrace as the eyes hanging low, re-adjusting to the sudden silence, body finally feeling heavy, eyes faltering shut-She jolts upwards, someone had knocked over an expensive bottle of alcohol, the impact made the walls vibrate, ripping the soft veil of sleep that almost, just almost, wrapped around her; but I guess everything is ten times funnier at night, even small incidents were humoring enough.
"Shit, sorry man." Followed by an insincere snicker, thankfully the deed was as forgiven as quickly as it happened, Naoya feels too good to worry about a replaceable bottle "Keep at it and we won't have anything to drink,Kotaru" a blatant lie as another bottle was opened and served between the six men: some of the kukuru unit squad, other are bar friends, from youngest to oldest they were Kotaru around twenty-five, Ichika, Akito,Choji all twenty-six whilst Naoya and Bunta were the oldest, with twenty-seven years of age,all acquaintances which turned into four years long friendships.
Ear pressed against the cold wooden pavement she listens word for word : the apology, the laughs, a new round of shots signalled by the "pop" as the lid comes off, freed by the pressure inside. *Kotaru* Finally catching a name, Kotaru : he stood out to her, from the soft timbre in which he pronounced vowels, it was kind of attractive.What the hell, they say seventy-two sleepless hours make you crazy, she feels delirious already after three.
Kicking off the futon in a desperate groan, she stares back at the endless void, letting her mind drift off hoping it's the last time she'll have to : tomorrow's gonna be better, there's gonna be miso soup for breakfast, gardening in the evening... Kotaru's soft sounding voice...
Feeding the neighbour's cats-
The thought barely comes to surface as she hurrily tiptoes down the stairs, cursing at every whine of the old wood.Another creak tears out, making her still.
Fuck, She shouldn't be here either way, all because of what? Her brother's best friends? really? Panic seeped into the heart, pumping out blood like crazy, judging from far away one would swear she possess blood manipulation technique;
A gulp made its way, almost forcefully, across the esophagus, her insides drumming as cold sweat dampened the small of her back, holding her breath as she got closer to the dining room.Then she caught it : a glimpse, then a full frontal, as Noaya shifted to the side, pouring more drinks.
He was quite handsome, almost her type, she confessed to Naoya once: lean but not too buff, hair dark,mid-length and natural, unlike someone who kept that greenish taint under the iconic dark Zen'in locks, what a waste of good looks, honestly.
She walks closer, hand trailing against the wall as guide, curiosity gets the best of her, some would call it greed: You already got a glimpse, what more do you want? Berating herself.Just one more look wouldn't hurt now would it? What's her brother gonna say? "Go back to your room?" "What are you doing here, it's late?"
She's twenty years too old to be having a set bedtime, ridiculous from her older brother even, puh-
"Didn't I tell you not to come downstairs?"
If colors could move, hers swirl in a spiral, splattering onto the nearby walls, as if the multiverses suddenly collapsed into one another and she was spit out from a 1930 lost cartoon with no sound.You know one thing you don't do while sneaking out of whatever place you're trying to sneak is that you never, ever and I say ever, get lost in though, it'll only put your guard down, disconnecting the brain as your feet lead you exactly where you don't want : Right in the middle of the dining room, shoji door open wide.
Shit. When did she get so close?
Swear she was just a few corridors away...Lie?A snack?but it's too late for a snack, snacks are for afternoons, what?who cares,just lie,just lie, just lie, just lie, just lie-
"I'm... Trying to sleep...so...."That's very far away from lying, it's actually the truth...but it earns an honest look from the man beside her brother, dark haired, looked quite lean and not too buff, his face with soft features by contrast, he seemed from the kamo clan.
"We'll keep it down- actually we should be on our way by now, right Choji?"Soft and well spoken, Kotaru turns to the much older friend "training's in the morning, remember?" earning a groan from the guy with pink long hair although laced with no intent to resist.
"Oh, you don't have to-" she blurs out in a panicked state as the soft spoken man cleared the seat beside him from the pregnant ashtray, really, that's like what?At least 40 cigarette buds! Seriously... It's an addiction at some point, jeez;
"Oh come on, we don't bite" but it's almost Impossible to ignore the silent glare in her brother's eyes, if gazes could kill, she'd be in samsara by now, infact this could be the perfect time to be swallowed up by the earth, only the entire house will know how irritated he'll be once his friends are gone.
Seriously, there's no need for a gaze that intense,looking like she stole an S graded cursed object.
The air felt awkward until Kotaru looked across the coffee table, shaking Naoya's shoulder, bursting with laughter at the sight of him, others joined in from behind, shaking the man into a grin pushing very close into a chuckle.
Better get out of here till he's in a good mood.
Closing the shoji door with a soft thump, she cradles back into the warm futon, this time she doesn't have to beg, sleep comes effortlessly, seems the masculine voices quiet down for the night, the entire compound now lulls to dream.
The morning after is quiet, almost too quiet which means Noaya's out doing who knows what, but it's quiet which is a nice change from last night;
The soft morning rays make their way into the bedroom, listening to the soft snores of deep sleep; the room's engulfed in early summer's embrace, the type of heat that draws into your eyes, doting you to sleep if you weren't already.
May's warmth is the sun glistening from outside, making color dance from one leaf to the other, it's a quiet season if you're in the right place, the world almost stills. It makes you stop, listening to the outside noise humans are bound to ignore all year round : passing cars, the gentle footsteps of strangers and maids down the hallway, the rhythmic singing of the birds, that's no longer of burden as it was in September.
The best part of May's morning is the shower: cold enough to make you feel like a beverage taken out of the fridge,making the flesh fresh and pleasurable to the touch.
Downstairs the smell of fried egg draws her in, hopefully there's some leftover rice she thought piddle paddling barefoot, really asking for a splinter now.
"Oh, I thought you were gone." Coming out a bit abrupt, surprising her.
Naoya, still wearing last night's kimono, making the kitchen smell like five-hundred cigarettes, ignores the noise in front of him,like always, he's too groggy to talk to in the morning ,something about bothering him with "useless talks", but there's an unfamiliarity in the way in which he stays on his side of the table waiting for the maid to be done with her morning task.
Whatever, he's always got something and the age difference isn't helping, it's like they're complete strangers sometimes, was he mad about yesterday? Because she came down without permission? Seriously?
He looked alright from the outside afterall..
He won't even spare a glance? She's used to being ignored via mouth, yet being physically ignored hurts more than it should've."Sorry about yesterday.... "
Nothing, the silver fork sole bearer of his attention, reflects his image.
Why does she have to apologize for yesterday? And why is he always so tense about other men in the house? Is he even gonna answer or will the sizzling of eggs be the only thing that keeps the silence at bay?
"Don't let it happen again."
Is as far as she gets for an answer. He's never the one to explain his feelings, either you get him or you just don't. Why is it so hard to talk to him all the time.. what is it? A curse if a Zen'in man expresses a little emotion?
He has such a way with words, he really knows how to keep a conversation alive...Is it so hard to say "Good morning my sister, sorry about last night. I'll take you out to eat as an apology."
She pushes off the coffee table, evoking zero reactions from him, not even the cock of an eyebrow or a scoff as usual; It didn't matter like most things in this house and as most things in this house, it will be ignored.
Thankfully summer evenings are the best as no one wanders around the garden, or outside, near the bridge, where koi fishes swim protected by the cool water from the scalding sun; She sits under the twenty year old daisugi their father planted, a gift for her birth, mom said; What's a baby supposed to do with a tree? What type of father gives an unspendable item to a baby? Maybe gifts aren't meant to be something as simple as being consumable, maybe the point is to remind you about the person behind it, to bring peace of mind in troubling times.
Peace of mind? Smooth pebble in hand, like hell, it's a reminder for how little time Naobito has for his kids outside of his favourite son.
Tainting this place with negative thoughts feels more like an insult to mother nature, again, there's no point in putting effort in any family member, they're bound to disappoint either way, the stone skips until it drowns, hopefully no koi is hurt in the process.
It's quiet, water gurgles undisturbed, leafs furl and unfurl at each gust of air, too quiet, it's bound to make you beg for a different sound : like the one of gravel shifting under careful strides, accompanied by two familiar voices which stall at the daisugi's side.
One man, far more interested than the other waves, greeting her with his soft tone. Kotaru he looks so beautiful under the sun which accentuates his sharp features, little scar below his eyes from a mission she never got to hear about.
"Evening" the voice comes out behind sharp teeth, it's hard to look up as he's standing right behind the sun, a smile suffices.
"Evening.." directed more towards her brother than him.
Was he still mad? Although he's particularly unpleasant when the sun comes to scorch the grass, did he blindly accept the apology?Or was it just to keep her quiet?
"You two done staring at each other? You didn't come here to gawk at my sister." Ouch, as if that was the initial intent, so what if someone else other than him talks for her? What's the big deal? He's always rocking between "stay away" and "come closer" it's never clear what his intentions are, you're better off dying young than trying to figure him out.
He didn't care for her. He's shown that before and this morning too
So why does he reek of jealousy?
Thinking this hard has no use, especially in the last weeks of may, where the sun really burns as midday approaches.
Following the pair inside , at a safe distance since "women should stay three steps behind a man"; whatever bullshit came out of Naoya's mouth became a rule. Irritating him further is a waste of energy,he'll come around eventually, she thought, sorting through the leftover clay in her drawer, or just act like it never happened,which is much more plausible...scoffing as wet hands molded what was going to be another unused vase.
Either way, he'll stop ignoring her anytime soon, that's all that matters.
"I don't hate my siblings" Kotaru went on, cigarette lit in one hand
"I do. How can one be weaker than their youngest brother? Pathethic." avoiding his gaze, knuckles whitening as the grip on the wooden railing got stronger.
"All of them?" with the intent of egging him on, enjoying the display of disgust in his eyes.
"All of them?" He wanted to know the truth;
did he really have no space in his heart? Not even for his sweet si-
"What's that suppose to mean?" Man ,look at that face slowly contorting in further disgust as he sizes him up "Why are you being so disgusting?" First ring of alarm warning him to drop it, he gets weirdly protective when her name comes out of his friends mouth, like they taint her image in a way.
A scoff, more caring that he wanted to "what's your deal with my sister? Stop being gross."
"Sure women are beneath men, but it's still your sister. Y'know like uhh.... Smaller version of you, yeah."
Who's he to talk? Smaller version of him? No way, the difference is like night and day: if she likes pancakes, he likes waffles. Complete opposites. Disrespectful, nonetheless, she's not a common maid, so that rule doesn't really apply.
Naoya's quite the hypocrite when he wants to.
Arguing in the heat like two idiots, they're both asking to die as sweat clings under the nagagis. They've been standing on the balcony for far too long. It makes them pause, awkwardness filling the gaps.
May evenings are the worst.
"Just stop talking. Heat's getting to me, it's annoying."
Though the conversation made him think : when was the last time they had a proper talk? And what's with the sudden interest expressed from Kotaru? It made him itch and tingle in a weird way.
If he had to pick,none of his friends were suitable enough to satisfy her, he's sure of that : a picky eater is always a picky woman.
Catching his friends' attention enough for him to turn.
"You're not planning to get your hands on my sister,are you?"
Kotaru bursts into a laugh quieting down once he realizes Naoya's being serious.
"She's like what... 20? she's big enough to get married." The man bit back. He has no real intention with her,but likes to tease him every once in a while.
"What's of the Zen'in clan, stays in the Zen'in clan until further notice." Naoya looks below, at the gravel path fading outside of the estates’ gate shaking his head; Oh he'll never let this go from today on, and he'll make it hurts enough so that to never hear some shit like this again.
"And you look like trash."
"Man that's low, even for you" leaving a mark on the wood as the cigarette is put out.
Was it thought? threatening to get with his sister was lower more than anything and he knew that.
"Kidding. I wanted to poke at ya." Poor Kotaru, he's never gonna hear the end of it and Naoya's like a dam sealed with duck tape threatening to burst at every jab.
"Your technique is useless" alright fair, his blood manipulation is nothing compared to projection sorcery.
"Long hair makes a man look like a woman." Ironic coming from someone with dyed hair and pierced ears pushing thirty.
"You're not worthy to carry the name of a Zen'in into your family."
He just... keeps going... This feels less like a shot at defending her honor and more of an undisclosed infatuation, or a secret lover's rant when their beloved is trash talked unknowingly.
"That's why I hate neighbouring clans, they barely know their place" that just doesn't even make sense.. they're not even neighbors-"Disgusting trash."
"Alright. Relax. It's still me. I won't joke like that again. Happy?"
Naoya doesn't move, gaze fixed into the gravel path, you can almost see the spite behind his eyes as each insult gets more personal.
"It's like you've got ... what's it called...."*He snaps a finger in the air, lightbulb lightning up and all*
The hell? Using big words today,why is he so bold?
"What's that even suppose to mean?" Curious of its meaning, he's heard it, no,read about it before, in his room, somewhere in a book of an austrian neurologist, name at the tip of his tongue."
Nothin', I'm outta here before you swear at my entire family tree."
What can a man do when there's no one to bother?
Maki's out of town, something about some jujutsu high exchange program and Mai followed along.
He's bored out of his mind, only the ticking of the clock accompanies his scoffs ..and groans.. and scowls ..and huffs.
There's nothing to do....phone?nah, scrolling feels useless and depressing.
Naoya falls onto the piano, keys whining, crushed by the weight,ruffling against it, personally don't recommend as a huggable choice, though he's out of options.
What's his sister doing anyways?
His ears perk up by the thought of tormenting her as it's been a long time, get to her room then what? Dragging out every book from the bookshelf sounds like a great option, leaving with the door open feels tempting too. He's there before he knows it; greeted by a confused look,mixed in with a tint of annoyance, he walks past her, staring at the library with a grin creeping in.
If there's anything Naoya Zen'in likes to do the most, it's be bothersome and nasty, especially towards the women in his family, there's something satisfactory in riling up his baby sister. It just feels right, as an older brother, he should have the right to annoy her.
"Uhh .... Come..in?" The vase turned into a mug, a red mug. Before that, it was a plate...and before that a plant sculpture she gave up on as the leaves kept falling off. Pottery isn't for the weak. It's addictive, but with the wrong pressure, it blends into a mess before you can even look at it, it's like him. So fragile in his mood swings and changes of attitude.
Is understanding him such a bad wish to have? It feels so defeating not knowing what's inside his head, ughh she just wants to crawl inside his brain and analyze his thoughts. He's not even doing anything, he's just staring at the library, he's definitely about to though.
"Do you...""...need...something?"
In a blitz, he rearranges each book in the way which pisses her off the most, preferably some stacked on top of each other violently, grinning as he knows she's watching, incapable of doing anything. Others shoved in the same small spot as bookmarks fly out, frame after frame, until his last 24th action lays him uncharacteristically onto the futon.
He hasn't been here since forever and a lot has changed: there are more trinkets, gachapons and a few old stuffed animals she kept as the years grew by "who even keeps all this mess at this age.." Oh and manga posters, more than before, none of the stuff he found personally interesting, although the old man frequently bitched about how frame interpolation had worsened the quality of anime overtime, it rubbed all off her afterall.
"Do you only make vases?" he looms over the working desk, when did he even ge upt??
Picking it up, ignoring her protests.
"It's a mug. You can put it next to the things we don't use. In the basement. Like always."
No one really uses what she makes, except for their father, somewhere around his office there's definitely a eight year old ashtray with the words "I love dad" engraved in its sides, warmth invades her heart as the memory comes to mind.
He examines it, almost pondering its utility.
"Really? I'd be happy to ruin this for you." turning on his heels, is he taking the mug in bed with him...?
"Catch" she groans as it almost slips to the ground, possibly wasting hours of work. Damn him.
"And don't bother me, I wanna sleep." already rubbing himself on her pillow in a weirdly affectionate way,like a kid clinging to mommy's scent.
"Here? You have your own room.." last part said quietly, luckily he's too busy to care for her whining, stretching lazily to turn on the fan.The last thing she wants is to be ignored again, over petty stuff nonetheless. It's always petty stuff with him; Especially now of all times that he's speaking to her again, though he never goes overboard with the silent treatment, giving up, maybe for his own sake, after an hour and half, unless he's out with friends to cool off.
"Who cares about who uses your stuff? Are you gonna sulk all over your precious clay or are you gonna come over?"
Like hell. Who does he even think he is? Demanding afternoon cuddles after last night.
"Oh come on, don't look at me that way, I've been quite lonely. Won't you give your older brother some affection?"
She shivers in the way the last words come out of his mouth, foreign to the ear. Since when does he like to cuddle and with her of all people? Naoya's never been the affectionate type either..well.. if you don't count sudden ear grabs when she's not listening and tugs of wrist to pull her closer when another man enters the elevator.
"How about a hug?" arms open wide as he lays on his sides, like this he looks like a cat or a fox. He grins as she strides closer reaching for his waist, melting in his arms "Wasn't too hard now was it? Yeah? Good girl."
The embrace fills her in an inexplicable way as his heart pumps against hers; He's cool to the touch, probably from facing the fan as he has it locked the entire time, greedy bastard , but he's soft. So soft, blame it on the attire so pompous and thick of fabric;
He's everywhere in an overwhelming manner : rough hands make their way across her body , sliding from her shoulders,going behind, trailing the small of her back until they rest against her waist, head flushed against the nape of the neck which steal a chuckle as she feels the tickle trail up and down her flesh by the moving of his hair.
As all good things in this world, the tenderness is cut short by the sudden tight grasp on her shoulders as he faces her with a stoic look, what is it this time?
"I don't want you talking to Kotaru from now on."
Huh?Talk? They never talked to begin with,confused, she cocks an eyebrow.
"Or greet him since you wanna be a smartass."
Whatever, he's always bugging about something, thankfully he's got the looks to cover it up. Wait, did he get a new piercing?Yellow this time...awful color to choose. Like the hair, why does he have to dye it that way? It almost looks green. Maybe it is and she's holding onto false hopes.
He looms closer waiting for an answer; he's broody and pouty, like a child, and she's supposed to be his baby sister? yeah right. More like an older sister with how much reassurance he needs, her little baby brother sounds more befitting than ever.
Surprisingly enough, Naoya looks almost vulnerable in this spot as his features grow quieter with the unforrowing of eyebrows and the slow blinking and his eyes for once aren't judging hers,
they're drowned in plea. He's asking for once.
As a first kiss I wouldn't say Naoya's your best choice, he gets impatient too quickly,overwhelmed by the layers of clothing which more and more feel like restraint.
He drags himself all over her face,biting and sucking on her mandible, urging her waist closer each gasp. Noses bump into each other, forcing an arrest every now and then. He's annoyingly clingy in a good way, he's on his best behavior,I promise, but her inexperience won't stop him from slipping his tongue out, wetting the inside, then outside, and inside again of her mouth, tilting his head closer, feeling her breath heavy.
Every part of her face becomes his personal victim : the bridge of the nose, ears, cheeks, chin ,temple, eyelids? he's so weird, and yet he feels so good, his weight feels amazing like never before, someone's body against yours is a different type of feeling : it's like a heavy blanket, every part of you is squished and pressed and stretched, and you might doze yourself off to sleep at every open mouth moan.
The morning after is a cozy ghost of hands and mouths trailing across her self, skin still aching, though the futon dips in an empty space. He left before sunrise.The smell of fried egg draws her downstairs, each morning is a repetition of the last, at this point eggs might be mandatory in this house.
Though,maybe not everything is the same, the maid will always cook what she's asked and the window side of the table will forever belong to him, but that red mug from which his lips hang will be a constant reminder how fundamentally changed they are.
Maybe it's a good thing that he's her first.
