Chapter Text
The warm evening was filled with the scent of smoke and the oohs and ahhs of the audience as light burst and scattered in the sky. Children laughed and cheered as they reached their small arms up to the sky as if to catch those faraway glimmers. The explosions, as loud and big as the striking of a drum, punched through the air and reverberated in the ground. The fireworks danced in Karamatsu’s eyes and filled them with color and brightness.
“This freakin’ sucks,” Osomatsu complained. He lifted his hand to gesture vaguely to the crowd that filled the viewing area. “Everyone here is a goddamn couple.”
Karamatsu shifted his attention from the sky to his brother’s sour expression. “But of course, my brother!” he said, flicking his fingertips through his hair. “It’s Tanabata, after all! Orihime and Hikoboshi have bridged the Milky Way itself using only the power of their love for one another—the sky is aglow with their blessing of romance!”
“Oh boy, I sure am glad some stars or whatever are cheering for my love life! Not. For real, Karamatsu, how is that supposed to make me feel better about this situation?” He jabbed his thumb in the direction of a pair of teenagers who were trying and failing to be discreet about their awkward first kiss. “It’s a good thing Ichimatsu wasn’t interested in the fireworks. He’d probably have combusted like five times by now. Anyway,” he tucked his hands into his pockets and took a step away, “I’m hungry. I’m gonna go find something to eat.”
“You’re not going to watch the finale?”
Osomatsu shrugged. “Why bother? It’s pretty much the same as last year’s Tanabata display anyway. And the year before that, and the year before that…” He raised his hand in a casual farewell. “So yeah. I’m out.”
Karamatsu returned the gesture with a faint twinge of disappointment that he quickly smothered with his uniquely Karamatsu-esque sultry smirk. Watching the fireworks alone on Tanabata… Such was the fate of a lone wolf such as himself, burdened with the destiny of facing life’s trials and tribulations with only his own shadow by his side.
(The part of him that wasn’t engaged in his internal monologue wondered if he shouldn’t have wished for something practical, like for his brothers to be a bit more transparent about the affection that they undoubtedly held towards him… but then again, the wish that he had chosen—“Be! A! Hero!” written in English with a calligraphic flair—cut a satisfyingly imposing figure on the blue tanzaku that he had tied to a bamboo branch earlier that evening.)
The fireworks thundered above, spilling arcs of light and color that shimmered and glittered and sparkled and flickered and fizzled and then faded. It was beautiful; Karamatsu couldn’t imagine how Osomatsu could possibly have tired of the sight. The finale ended, the smoke began to settle, and Karamatsu followed suit as the crowd slowly dispersed.
So, where to?
With the fireworks over, the festival itself was sure to be closing up soon, so Karamatsu took to wandering the grounds to search for his brothers—and to admire the Tanabata decorations that had been strewn throughout the shopping district, from the colorful ornaments that hung from lines draped between buildings on opposite sides of the walking path to the beautifully illuminated bamboo covered in tanzaku and paper chains.
And then there was a sight worth a thousandfold more admiration than any simple decoration: Totoko, tying up her own tanzaku as the sleeves of her white and pink hydrangea-printed yukata fluttered from her arms.
“Totoko-chan!”
Karamatsu flinched from the sudden shout beside him. Well, there was Choromatsu.
“Your yukata is so cute, Totoko-chan!” the third son cheered. “Super cute! Insanely cute!”
“You’re a vision of loveliness today again as always!” Karamatsu added.
Totoko lifted her foot cutely, laid her hand against her cheek, and smiled. “Thank you! But it’s embarrassing to associate with you in public, so don’t talk to me anymore, okay?”
The pair gave their obedient answer simultaneously, “ ‘Kaaay.”
Totoko went on her way, and Karamatsu blinked after her. “That surprised me… I didn’t think she’d respond like that.” It was more like Totoko to answer unwanted attention from the sextuplets with a cold shoulder—if not a heavy blow to the gut.
Choromatsu sighed dreamily. “I bet it’s because she’s in a good mood from the festival. But anyway.” He straightened up and chased the reverie from his tone. “Weren’t you with Osomatsu-niisan?”
“Our dear brother went in search of nourishment for his needful body,” Karamatsu said, and then he raised his hand pensively to his chin. “I’m not sure if he went home or if he’s getting something from a stall, though.”
“And I guess Todomatsu’s still with those friends he was meeting with… And Ichimatsu and Jyushimatsu?”
Karamatsu lifted his hands in a theatric shrug. “With all due apology, brother, I must admit that I haven’t seen them since we split up.”
Choromatsu gave a brief hum. “Well, whatever. I’m heading home. What about you?”
“I’ll go with you,” Karamatsu replied. “The fireworks just ended, so I was thinking about going back myself.”
Choromatsu accepted Karamatsu’s company with relative indifference, and the two started along the shopping district’s main walkway, joining in with the rest of the foot traffic. Karamatsu described the fireworks in words as colorful as the display itself, and Choromatsu responded with occasional murmurs of acknowledgment as his attention drifted noncommittally over the wares offered by the various street vendors, some of which were already packing up and some raising their voices to push for a few more sales.
It wasn’t much of an epiphany, but as Karamatsu’s story ended and silence fell between him and his brother, the second son was stricken by the thought that Tanabata wasn’t really all that different from any other day after all. Sure, festivals such as these were welcome breaks from the regular mundanity of everyday life, but even holidays were dyed faintly gray with the keen sense of familiarity that came from sharing twenty-something of them in a row with the same five (or seven, counting their parents) other people.
It was nice, though, in some ways—it created a consistent rhythm, and from that came the comfort of knowing roughly what to expect out of almost any given situation. For example, at a glance Karamatsu knew the identity of the individual in the red t-shirt at the oden cart a little ways ahead, and he knew who the oden cart’s proprietor was, and he was so confident he knew what they were shouting at each other about that he would have gone so far as to bet money on it.
“Hey! You two!” Chibita barked, indicating Karamatsu and Choromatsu with his ladle for a moment before turning it on Osomatsu. “Get this freeloading leech you idjits call a brother out of here before I call the damn cops!”
(And he would have won that bet.)
“Call them!” Osomatsu challenged. “Call them so they can see this bald-faced discrimination and serve justice where it’s due!” He gestured angrily to the counter, to the little sheet of paper tented into a makeshift sign, a succinct message scrawled on its surface: No sextuplets.
“Discrimination my ass! It’s self-defense, damn it! The only way I can stay in the black while feeding you damn deadbeats is to cash in big time on holidays like Tanabata! So for today, tabs are off-limits and dine-n-dashers’ll be strung up by their thumbs! If you stay,” he brandished his ladle threateningly, “you pay.”
“It doesn’t really sound like Chibita’s being unreasonable, Osomatsu-niisan,” Choromatsu said, crossing his arms. “Why don’t you just buy something from a convenience store on the way back if you’re so hungry?”
“I don’t wanna buy anything!” Osomatsu whined. “I spent most of my money on that stupid rigged shooting game earlier and I want to have enough to go to pachinko tomorrow!”
“Eating or gambling: Which is more important?!” Choromatsu glared as Osomatsu furrowed his brow in sincere contemplation, and then the third son threw his arms up in frustration. “It was a rhetorical question! Ugh, never mind.” He seized the eldest by the collar of his shirt and dragged him away from the cart. “Sorry for the trouble, Chibita. We’ll take him home.”
Osomatsu wriggled ineffectively in Choromatsu’s grip. “I don’t wanna! I want to eat free oden!”
“Are you a toddler?!”
“Hey, hey! What’s going on? Are you getting oden?”
Jyushimatsu’s voice pulled Karamatsu’s attention from his squabbling brothers to the spot behind him, but instead of the fifth son’s face, he found the soft, plush features of an enormous teddy bear. Karamatsu blinked at his reflection in the stuffed animal’s glassy eyes and stared, at a loss for words.
Fortunately, Choromatsu had enough words for the both of them—as he often did.
“Jyushimatsu, where in the world did you get this?! And what are you going to do with it?! God, just look at this thing—it’s bigger than you are!”
Jyushimatsu’s head popped up from behind the bear’s fluffy shoulder. “I won it!” he answered. “It’s a souvenir for Mom!”
The matter of the oden dilemma forgotten, Osomatsu stepped away from Choromatsu’s restraint and up to Karamatsu’s side to better examine Jyushimatsu’s prize. “Not that that isn’t nice or anything, but… what’s Mom gonna do with a gigantic stuffed bear?”
Jyushimatsu’s eyes blanked as he tilted his cheek against the synthetic fur. “Ummm… Like, cuddle it, maybe? And she can sit on it when she’s tired and stuff!”
“It is a most noble cause, brother!” Karamatsu extolled. “I’m certain our dear mother will be thrilled beyond description!”
Choromatsu sighed but shrugged his shoulders. “Well, anyway,” he nodded his head briefly to indicate the eldest pair, “we’re all heading home. Do you want some help carrying that thing so it doesn’t get dirty?”
Jyushimatsu shook his head. “Nope, I’m good! Ichimatsu-niisan is holding the back half!”
Osomatsu blinked, surprised, and peered around Jyushimatsu. “Ichimatsu’s in there…?”
An arm poked out from the teddy bear’s girth and waved unenthusiastically, accompanied by a severely muffled “yup.”
“Damn,” Osomatsu said, lifting his eyebrows, “this thing makes for some pretty good camouflage.”
Choromatsu opened his mouth with one of those deep breaths that signaled an oncoming tirade, but then his features fell into exasperated disinterest. “You know what? I’m not going to dignify that with a response. Let’s just go home already.”
The five of them moved in tandem, merging with the rest of the crowd that was gradually filtering away from the shopping district. Osomatsu complained to Jyushimatsu about the shooting game stall and how it was fixed so that no one could win any decent prizes, and Jyushimatsu, to Osomatsu’s disbelief and indignation, explained that he had gotten the bear from one such shooting game. Karamatsu offered to relieve Ichimatsu of his position and carry the bear in his stead so the fourth son could take a break, and Ichimatsu gave him a swift kick in the shin—not for offering, but for the painful language with which the offer was made. Choromatsu noticed Todomatsu a little ways ahead, flanked by a pair of acquaintances, and called out to him, but Todomatsu aggressively ignored him. Osomatsu ran forward, swinging his fist over his head and yelling, “Don’t you dare think you can pretend you’re not related to us, Totty! We’re wearing matching t-shirts!”
The sextuplets, united anew in spite of Todomatsu’s best efforts to exclude himself from the collective, continued towards their destination, and all signs of the Tanabata festival, from the herd of passersby to the ornamentation of their surroundings, began to thin out as they moved into Akatsuka Ward’s residential area. They reached their home and noisily piled into the entryway, announced their arrival, and kicked off their shoes. Jyushimatsu immediately bounced off in search of their mother with the teddy bear in tow, knocking various pieces of furniture and other items out of place as he did. The others were quick to split up and strew themselves about the house, and Karamatsu followed suit by digging out the most recent edition he had of his favorite fashion magazine.
With the buzz of the festival behind them, the rest of the evening was just the same as any other: They lazed around, they made a meal out of whatever snacks they could find around the house, and they dragged themselves off to the bathhouse before heading to bed—although their bedtime routine was thrown off a bit by the presence of one giant teddy bear in their room.
“Wait, Jyushimatsu, why is this in our room?” Choromatsu asked, raising a hand in the direction of the offending stuffed animal. “Weren’t you giving it to Mom?”
Jyushimatsu, who was crawling around the perimeter of the futon, paused long enough to follow Choromatsu’s gesture. “Yeah, I gave it to her!” he said. “But she said hers and Dad’s bedroom isn’t big enough, so we have to keep it up here!”
“There’s not really enough room in here either,” Osomatsu groused, squashing the bear further into the corner with his foot.
Todomatsu held his pillow against his chest and frowned. “It’s kind of creepy, too… I don’t really like thinking that it’ll be staring at me all night.”
Ichimatsu narrowed his eyes just slightly. “Ah, there you go with that ‘cute and defenseless’ crap again. It’s an inanimate object. It won’t be ‘staring’ at anything.”
“It’s still creepy!” Todomatsu fumed, stamping his foot. “I wake up really easily, and I don’t want to see that thing’s beady eyes glinting down at me in the low light!”
The corners of Jyushimatsu’s broad smile sank. “Aw… Should I not have gotten it…?”
“Now, now, my brothers,” Karamatsu interrupted, his voice silky as he stepped into the middle of the room and posed with his arms thrust out to either side. “I do believe I have a solution to the dilemma at hand. Behold!” With a flashy flick of his wrist, he produced his sunglasses seemingly from nowhere and pushed them onto the bear’s face, squishing in either side of its head so that the glasses would fit and stay in place. “Rest assured, Totty, for my Karamatsu Bear will cause you no discomfort!”
“God, I hope not.” Todomatsu’s features contorted with distaste. “Your painfulness is already more discomfort than I can stand.”
Osomatsu leaned towards the youngest with a conspiratorial grin. “More than you can bear?”
Todomatsu folded his arms, a poorly concealed smirk tugging on his lips. “It’s unbearable.”
“Oh, come on, Totty, that was weak—I’m pawsitive you can do better than that!”
The subject of the gratuitously large teddy bear disappeared entirely from the sextuplets’ concerns, and they set aside their quarrels and one by one wriggled into their respective places under the futon’s cover. Karamatsu shifted until he was comfortable and gradually drifted to sleep to his curiosity over whether or not the teddy bear’s plush and fluffy arms would fit into the sleeves of his leather jacket. (It would complete the look.)
“Are you NEETs all still in bed?! It’s already 10:30!”
Matsuyo’s scolding tone was more effective than any alarm clock in the world, and the sextuplets reflexively jumped out from under their blanket.
“10:30?!” Choromatsu repeated, scrambling to confirm the time before tearing open the buttons closing his pajamas and throwing the shirt to a side. “I overslept! The store carrying Nyaa-chan’s new album opened an hour and a half ago—!”
Matsuyo raised a staying hand. “Wait just a moment, please. I came up here to tell you all that you have a visitor.”
“Huh…” Osomatsu ran his fingers through his hair to smooth it down and looked between his brothers. “Any o’ you guys invite someone?”
Ichimatsu scoffed. “Who would we have invited? None of us have any friends.”
“It’s Totoko-chan,” Matsuyo supplied.
Her words precipitated a moment of silence—but not more than a moment, and once that moment passed, the upstairs bedroom erupted with the chaos of a disaster area. Identical sets of pajamas were hurled to and fro as the brothers clambered at the dresser, shouting and shoving in their haste to make themselves presentable.
(Matsuyo wisely withdrew and shut the door behind her.)
“None understands the appeal of lawlessness better than myself, brothers,” Karamatsu interrupted, speaking over the din, “but would your endeavors not be best accomplished through cooperation rather than competition?”
Todomatsu stopped just long enough to glare. “The guy who’s already fully dressed doesn’t get an opinion, thanks.”
“Ah, you noticed.” Karamatsu, who had donned his favorite jacket and sequined trousers, jutted his hip to a side and rested a hand thereupon. “Changing one’s clothes this quickly is a hard-earned skill, Totty, but if you like, I can instruct you in—”
Somebody’s underwear slapped across his face.
After several tense minutes that nearly precipitated in bloodshed no fewer than three times, the Matsuno brothers stampeded downstairs and collected in the living room, staring transfixed at the young woman sitting at their table and sipping from a glass of tea as if she weren’t a breathing goddess granting audience to six identical heaps of sentient garbage.
As the eldest, Osomatsu had the right to take the lead in this situation, and he was quick to pounce on the opportunity, “Totoko-chan, what’s up! It’s been a long time since you visited us at our house!”
Totoko lowered her glass to the table, and the ice cubes clinked softly as they shifted around one another. “Oh, I didn’t really want to visit!” she replied, her tone upbeat and cute and devoid any ill intent. “Actually, I was going to tell you all this last night, but I got distracted and forgot about it. You see, the awesomely adorable underground super-idol Totoko-chan is having a concert on Saturday!” She set her elbows on the table, laced her fingers together, leaned her cheek against the back of her hand, and batted her eyelashes. “I can count on your patronage, right…?”
“Of course, Totoko-chan! You know you always have our support!”
“A concert? A concert?! Yeah, yeah, yeah, absolutely yeah!”
“Well, if you don’t mind us being there…”
“That’s the day after tomorrow, right? We wouldn’t miss it for the world!”
“Truly blessed are we mere mortals to have the chance to witness the song and dance of an angel such as yourself!”
Osomatsu swiped his finger along the bottom of his nose and grinned. “What they said!”
Totoko straightened her posture, her expression bright. “Really? I’m so glad! Make sure to stop by my house sometime before Saturday to pick up your tickets, okay? They’re 5,000 yen!”
The sextuplets flinched, and Osomatsu pressed his palms against the table and leaned into them, speaking for all of them when he voiced his surprise, “5,000 yen?! That’s so much cheaper than usual!”
“Right? I thought I’d lower the price a bit as a show of appreciation to my fans! Anyway,” she pushed away from the table and stood, “I still have a lot of preparations to get done, so I need to get going.”
“Good luck, Totoko-chan!” Todomatsu cheered, his expression practicedly sweet. “I know you’ll be great as always! I’m looking forward to—”
Choromatsu interrupted, “We’re all looking forward to it!”
Totoko brought her hand up to her smiling face with a peace sign before spinning on her heel and leaving the room, a skip in her step. There was the muffled sound of her letting their mother know that she was going, and then the front door opened and shut.
Todomatsu immediately turned on the third son. “What was that for?! I was trying to show off my appeal!”
“I only said what was true,” Choromatsu said, crossing his arms and turning up his nose.
“It’s not like she doesn’t already know we’re all desperate anyway,” Ichimatsu shrugged. “You’re not really fooling anyone, Totty—let alone appealing to anyone.”
Before Todomatsu could retort, Jyushimatsu gave a short exclamation. “Choromatsu-niisan!” he said. “Didn’t you say you were late for something?”
“Oh—!” Choromatsu immediately darted for the stairs. “Nyaa-chan’s album! Gotta get my wallet…!”
Osomatsu yawned and scratched his stomach as he meandered towards the kitchen, muttering something about breakfast, and Todomatsu, who had started to follow him, paused and addressed the second son, “Karamatsu-niisan, did you still want to go fishing today?”
“But of course, my dear Totty!” Karamatsu replied, his tone suffused with enthusiasm. “You know better than any other how I cherish these outings with my darling youngest brother!”
“If you mean that,” Todomatsu said, “if you really, truly mean that, you will go up those stairs, take off those pants, and put on a pair of normal jeans before setting foot out of this house.”
Karamatsu’s face fell, and he glanced down to his glittering legs with a pinch of disappointment in his heart. “But…”
“No buts. No sequins. No shorts. Normal. Jeans.”
Unable to refute the youngest son’s ultimatum, Karamatsu pouted his way upstairs to exchange his pants for a pair that sparkled a bit less. (Choromatsu raced past him, wallet in hand, and the sound of the front door opening and closing followed soon after.) When he returned downstairs, breakfast—consisting of toast and whatever mishmash of beverages were available in the fridge—was already underway, and he joined the short line to use the toaster.
The rest of the day was filled with mundane familiarity, especially in comparison to the way it had started: Karamatsu and Todomatsu spent a few hours fishing, the former listening dutifully to the latter’s laundry list of complaints, and when they parted ways later in the afternoon, Karamatsu chose to fill his time with a stroll through the nearest park. The summer sun and humidity were a bit of a trial for a man in a leather jacket, but—heh—he was a man in a leather jacket who would rise to even the most scorching of challenges.
Perhaps he would learn a lesson about not fighting meaningless battles when the first symptoms of heat exhaustion sent him home before he was able to catch the eye of even one Karamatsu Girl.
His condition wasn’t anything a tall glass of water and long nap in a cool place couldn’t improve, but his recovery came at a price: while Karamatsu slept, his brothers returned from their various activities and found that their mother had bought donuts for them to enjoy. Naturally, Karamatsu’s share was unapologetically consumed in his absence. Upon discovering this, he had immediately recited a soliloquy on forgiveness and the inherent virtue of sacrifice for the sake of one’s dear family, but it would be dishonest to suggest that he didn’t mope a bit over the lost opportunity.
As revenge for being coldly rebuffed the previous evening, Osomatsu declared it an oden night and dragged his brothers to Chibita’s cart for dinner. Chibita glared at the pack as they approached and heaved a weary sigh when the eldest slid onto the bench.
“Come to eat up all of my profits from yesterday, eh?” So saying, Chibita began laying six plates across the counter.
“Well, not all of them,” Osomatsu replied, his brothers filling in the spaces to either side of him, “but if you got too successful and stopped making oden, what would we eat? We gotta keep you humble, buddy.”
Chibita stared blankly. “…I grew up out of a concrete pipe, you insensitive asshole.”
“And look at you now! Mr. Self-Made Man: Best oden in all of Tokyo!”
“Tch.” Chibita turned up his nose. “Flattery won’t get ya nowhere, damn it!”
(Or so he said, but Karamatsu couldn’t help but note that he doled out slightly larger serving sizes than usual.)
“Is Tanabata really that profitable?” Choromatsu wondered aloud, lifting a skewered beef tendon from his plate. “I mean, oden isn’t exactly seasonable this time of year, right?”
Chibita shrugged. “Eh, it’s no New Year’s, that’s for sure, but as far as I can tell, there’s two kinds o’ people in the world: people who see there’s oden available and gotta have some no matter what time of year it is, and people with no taste.”
Jyushimatsu stood and leaned eagerly against the counter. “Hey, which kind are we?!” he prompted. He earned a frown and a brief spell of contemplative silence in response.
“Mm, can’t say,” Chibita answered at length. “Kinda seems too generous to refer to you rotten monsters as ‘people’ at all.”
“I resent that!” Todomatsu objected. “Don’t put me on the same level as them! Out of all of us, I’m by far the most—”
“You’re by far the most monstrous,” Ichimatsu finished, and his contribution kickstarted a spat that quickly spread throughout the sextuplets, surrounding the oden cart with the clamor of six voices vying to shout over one another.
Well, five. After the first few times his attempts to restore peace were snubbed, Karamatsu had quietly withdrawn from the bickering and opted to nurse his beer while waiting for the dust to settle.
His lack of participation didn’t go without notice, and Chibita propped an arm against the counter and nodded at Karamatsu to draw his attention, “So? What’s up with you? You’re kinda low-key tonight.”
Karamatsu straightened his back, and the sparkle immediately returned to his previously reserved expression. “Ahh, Chibita, your concern, while most gracious, is unwarranted! I found myself a bit sunsick earlier, you see, and so I’m feeling just a shade more sluggish than I ordinarily would. Fear not, though, for I am already well on my way to—”
“Wait, when you say ‘sunsick,’ you mean like heatstroke?!”
“What— No, no! It’s nothing that serious. Naught more than a touch of dizziness, a passing brush with weakness. Really, I’m already nearly fully restored!”
Chibita swiped the beer from Karamatsu’s hand on its way to his lips. “The hell do you think you’re doing?! Alcohol will just make you more dehydrated, idjit!”
“I’m not dehydrated, though—”
“You oughta be drinking water, damn it!”
“I had plenty of water earlier—”
Chibita slammed a glass of water down in front of Karamatsu, and the second son, fearing further coercion, sipped from it obediently.
It was in such a way that the day ended: not with a triumphant fanfare but with dull sputter like air leaking from a damp balloon. But that was the way most days were when it came to the Matsuno household, after all, and when night fell and Karamatsu slotted himself into the space in the futon between Ichimatsu and Todomatsu, it was with a sensation that was caught somewhere between ease and boredom. It was nice. It was nice, but he sort of hoped the next day would be a bit livelier.
Karamatsu’s hopes would not be rewarded. Friday started with the same lethargic familiarity, and the feeling was exacerbated by the fact that none of them were willing to brave the outdoors in the overwhelming summer heat that had beset the region. Even long after they finished breakfast, the sextuplets lay around their bedroom to take refuge from the sun, occasionally rotating to take turns in front of the electric fan set up beside the window but otherwise occupied by their own devices—Osomatsu thumbed through a manga, Choromatsu played a board game with the younger duo, Ichimatsu draped himself across the back of the couch and napped, and Karamatsu enjoyed his favorite pastime: studying his own reflection.
When it came to entertaining himself, Karamatsu could get a lot of mileage out of gazing into a mirror. He could comb his fingers through his hair until every last strand was situated exactly to his liking, he could practice his expressions and hone his dazzling smile, he could alert himself to any potential flaw in his features, and, most importantly, he could appreciate the unearthly beauty that was the entity known as Karamatsu Matsuno.
He wasn’t so self-absorbed that he could actually use such a method to keep himself from being bored for more than an hour or so, though, and he was glad when afternoon faded into evening and the tall buildings surrounding their family home began to cast long, cool shadows across the neighborhood, granting enough reprieve that the Matsuno sextuplets could extricate themselves from their sweltering puddles of misery and finally start their day.
Even so, it wasn’t a very impressive day. Karamatsu dug out a plain blue tanktop, a sewing kit, and a compartmentalized tray filled with a colorful array of sequins. Before he could set to work, however, he had to deal with the chore of picking hundreds of sequins out of the carpet—upon seeing the impressive collection, Ichimatsu had unabashedly punted the tray out of Karamatsu’s hands and into the air.
(Well, that’s what it looked like, but Karamatsu held fast to the belief that it was no more than a simple accident. If nothing else, the sight of all those sequins shimmering and glittering as they fell made it worthwhile.)
The others came alive in the cooler temperatures as well: Todomatsu tapped away happily on his phone, Choromatsu rooted through a box of idol-related paraphernalia and removed items to set them aside every now and then, and Ichimatsu rubbed a cloth over the surface of the dusty traffic cone Jyushimatsu sometimes used as a headpiece—Jyushimatsu had been taking care of the task himself but had gotten distracted when the sequins went flying and switched to helping Karamatsu clean them up. Osomatsu, meanwhile, lay flat on his back with his arms splayed out to either side and his mouth hanging slightly open.
“Oh,” he said at length. “Ohh.” He reached his arms forward and flailed them slightly, grunting as he heaved himself upright. He leaned towards the bookshelf, thumbed through a few DVD cases, and eventually pulled one out. “Crap. This was due today. Hey, Totty.” He flopped backwards back onto the floor. “Tottyyy. Heyyy. You’re not doing anything, right? Return this DVD for me.”
Todomatsu lifted a scornful gaze from his phone for only a moment before lowering it back to the screen. “What? No. You’re not doing anything either, Nii-san. Return it yourself.”
Without so much as raising his hand, Osomatsu wagged a finger. “Oh, Totty, Totty, Totty… You really don’t get it, do you? It’s not that I’m not doing anything. I’m doing nothing. My plan for the evening… was to do nothing. And I’m doing it. I’m in the middle of doing nothing. I’m busy right now. With nothing. Do you understand?”
Todomatsu indicated his phone. “I’m in the middle of a conversation on LINE right now, and you’re just laying on the floor staring at the ceiling—”
“Doing nothing,” Osomatsu corrected. “And I’m damn dedicated to it—unlike you, who keeps putting that thing down and doing other stuff. You slacker.”
“I went to the bathroom! One time! Give it up already. I’m not returning your stupid DVD for you. Do it yourself or pay the late fee.”
“Ehhh… Late fees are such a waste of money, though… Hey, Jyushimatsu—”
“Don’t do it, Jyushimatsu-niisan!” Todomatsu immediately snapped.
Jyushimatsu looked between the eldest and youngest with an uncertain expression that reminded Karamatsu a little too much of the pachinko incident, and he was relieved when Osomatsu changed targets before the situation could escalate, “Then Choromatsu! You’re just messing around with your idol junk, right?”
“Don’t call it junk!” Choromatsu retorted. “And I’m busy getting ready for Totoko-chan’s concert tomorrow, so no.”
“Come on! You can do that tomorrow!”
“I’ll be doing it tomorrow in addition to tonight! Don’t underestimate the amount of time I put into concert preparation! I’m not just some casual fan like the rest of you!”
Osomatsu’s mouth twitched into an apathetic frown with a mumbled “yikes, forget I asked.” He turned to the fourth son, “Ichimatsu!”—only to receive a glare hotter than the mid-afternoon asphalt—“…is out of the question, of course. So I guess that leaves…”
“…the best for last?” Karamatsu finished, tucking his needle into a fold of fabric and posing his hand against his chin. “Why, brother, mine should have been the first name on your lips! You know well that I would move heaven and earth to grant you your heart’s desires!”
Osomatsu curled into a ball, clutched the DVD to his chest, reached out dramatically with a long, agonized “aaaaaaughh,” and then went limp. “D-Damn it, I thought I was prepared… That was cruel, Karamatsu. What would you do if I’d punctured a lung?”
Karamatsu blinked, and then he flicked his fingers through his fringe. “Heh. I suppose I’d say that I’d taken your breath away.”
A collective groan climbed the throats of the other five.
“All right, you owe it to all of us to get the hell out of here after that.” Osomatsu rolled across the floor and pushed the DVD into Karamatsu’s hands. “Take this and go redeem yourself, you thorn in my side.”
Karamatsu smirked and took a breath, but before he could speak, Todomatsu interrupted, “If you make this about roses, I will lock you out of the house while you’re gone.”
Karamatsu shrugged and drew his fingers across his lips in a zipping motion. Their loss.
The summer night was muggy and warm, and the humidity immediately brought a faint mist of sweat to Karamatsu’s forehead as he stepped out of the house with Osomatsu’s DVD tucked under his arm. But occasionally a breeze stirred the air, crickets sang their evening songs from their hideaways in the grass, and little pinpricks of light shined here and there upon the dark and faraway sky. He just couldn’t bring himself to think of it as an unpleasant night.
The video rental store was only a short walk away, so when the task was complete, Karamatsu did himself the service of stopping to buy an ice cream bar to enjoy on the bridge that spanned the canal. He leaned against the railing and angled his eyes up towards the great expanse of black above him. It was a shame, he thought, that Tokyo was such a bright place and that so much of the beautiful starlight was suffocated by mankind’s ongoing love affair with insomnia.
Love affair with insomnia, he repeated to himself, holding the ice cream bar between his teeth and digging a pen and a small notepad out of his pocket. That’s a good one.
Summer was a season that knew no mercy, though, and so Karamatsu tucked the notebook away when he was done with it and finished his ice cream before it melted. He dropped the wrapper into the nearest trashcan and made his way back home.
Karamatsu left the house Saturday morning to pick up his ticket for Totoko’s concert that evening, but when he returned later in the afternoon, the ticket was not the only addition to his person, nor was it the most notable—that position fell to the slim-fitting navy blue blazer that hung from his shoulders and clung close to his torso, its sleeves rolled partway up his arms. Only Ichimatsu and Todomatsu were home, but that hardly stopped him from making a show of his every movement until eventually, finally, someone asked.
“Karamatsu-niisan,” Todomatsu said with an inflection like squeezing blood from a stone, “what’s with that jacket? It’s… not terrible. Maybe even good.”
Karamatsu, a glimmer in his eyes, spun on his heel to face his brother. “As expected, Totty, you have the eye of a true fashionista! I picked up this treasure from a flea market earlier.” He pinched the lapels between his fingers and gave a small tug to straighten the jacket’s fit, then he brought his hand to his chin and posed. “So? What do you think? I was considering wearing this to the concert later.”
Todomatsu glared, and before he found the words to reply, Ichimatsu chimed in from the corner of the room, “It doesn’t suit you. It’s too decent.”
“Yeah! That’s it exactly!” Todomatsu agreed. “It’s too decent.”
“ ‘Decent,’ you say?” Karamatsu repeated. “You’re mistaken, brothers of mine—‘decent’ is a gratuitous understatement! However, given that you’ve yet to witness the full appeal of this garment, I can understand why you would misjudge it as such. You see, its true charm… lies within.” Karamatsu took hold of the edge of the jacket and thrust his arm to a side to reveal the inner lining: black velvet zebra patterning over glossy galaxy print fabric.
Todomatsu immediately turned to leave the room, throwing his hands up over his head. Ichimatsu, on the other hand, simply stared, unimpressed.
“Yeah,” he said, “that’s a lot more like what I expected.”
“Isn’t it sensational? Do you want to try it on?” He was already shrugging out of the jacket, and Ichimatsu straightened his back, incredulity and disgust creeping into his expression.
“Are you out of your mind? I know I’m garbage, but I don’t need to dress like it.”
Karamatsu held the jacket out by its shoulders, his smile blissfully oblivious. “Come now, don’t be so shy! There’s no need to hold back!”
Ichimatsu backed further into the corner. “Don’t you come near me with that, Shittymatsu. I’ll claw your eyes out.”
The second son deflated, pouting, “Well, if you feel so strongly about it… I’m certain you would look positively dashing, though…”
The door abruptly slammed open, and in the doorway stood Todomatsu, toting the flamethrower that he occasionally used for, in his own words, ‘disinfecting.’ In the next moment, there would be a hiss of fuel, a burst of fire, and then a thoroughly incinerated jacket—there would be, but fortunately Choromatsu returned home just in time to prevent the debacle.
(“I understand how you feel!” the third son said upon seeing the jacket for himself. “I understand, but you can’t burn our house down over Karamatsu’s bad taste!”)
By the time the sun had set, the sextuplets had assembled and were ready to head out to the store Totoko’s parents operated and to the stage they occasionally put together within. Choromatsu passed out headbands and glow sticks and, as they walked, drilled the others on which cheers were attributed to which lyrics. Even as Osomatsu argued against Choromatsu’s corrections, there was a tangible buzz of excitement and festivity surrounding the group of six that they had lacked even during Tanabata. Supporting their adorable childhood friend on her never-ending quest for greatness was an honor like no other, after all.
Karamatsu presented his ticket alongside his brothers as they arrived at the venue, and together they filed into the large room and gathered in front of the stage. The wall was modestly decorated with banners, streamers, ribbons, and balloons, and a small crowd comprised almost entirely of the Yowai family’s friends and acquaintances gradually trickled in. After several more minutes of bated breath, spotlights brightened the stage, and the sextuplets’ expressions brightened just the same.
There was a mechanical whir, and a circular panel on the stage’s floor pulled aside. From the opening emerged Totoko, dressed in her distinguishing jellyfish-like dress and fish headpiece. She skipped forward, twirled, and brought her microphone to her lips as music began to play.
“Don’t tear off my scales! My heart is full! Love is an illusion! All people… breathe through gills!”
The room was immediately taken over by the Matsuno brothers’ hollers and cheers, the six of them alone supplying enough enthusiasm for a crowd numbering in the hundreds. Totoko sang and danced with practiced precision, and her songs were no less exciting even though they’d heard them all a dozen times, her movements no less darling even if she sometimes reused them between routines. By the time she reached the end of her setlist, Karamatsu was nearly out of breath—they all were, but Choromatsu, whose passion was unrivaled when it came to his favorite idols, was probably in the roughest shape out of the bunch.
For a moment, there was silence. Totoko looked across her small audience with an expression that almost felt soft, and then she rounded her shoulders and exhaled. “Everyone, thank you so much! I’ll keep doing my best, so support me in the future too, okay?”
A six-part chorus immediately called out, “Of course, Totoko-chan!”
She laid her hand against her cheek and smiled. “I’m so happy! Okay, everyone, take care heading home, and don’t forget that you can buy goods and sign up for my super awesome newsletter at the entrance!”
Totoko stepped off the stage, waving as she went, and ultimately disappeared through the doorway that connected the storeroom to the rest of her house, and the sextuplets finally stopped their carrying on when the spotlights dimmed and her parents appeared to begin removing the decorations.
“Damn, that was fun!” Osomatsu said, stretching his arms over his head and moving to depart. His brothers followed his lead. “I worked up a sweat and everything. Let’s hit the bathhouse before it closes.”
Todomatsu glanced at his phone. “Better hurry. We’re already cutting it close.”
“Seriously? Then let’s go!” Choromatsu, who had clearly found a second wind through his urgency, shoved Osomatsu forward with one hand and seized Jyushimatsu’s wrist with the other. “I have to sleep between you two; you are not skipping the bathhouse in summer after a concert!”
They made the trip back to their house to collect their toiletries and started off for the bathhouse, their spirits high and their chatter light and full of laughter, and it wasn’t much longer before they were home for the night. Ichimatsu and Jyushimatsu wrangled the futon out of the closet, and one by one they all crawled under the blanket. Karamatsu nestled against his pillow until he found just the right position and enjoyed the fact that Ichimatsu was too tired to kick him closer to Todomatsu and that Choromatsu was too tired to complain about Osomatsu or Jyushimatsu snoring or fidgeting.
Dreams encroached upon Karamatsu’s fading consciousness, filling his imagination with the sound of the fireworks he’d watched on Tanabata just a few days prior. They popped and whistled and boomed until finally they felt too close, too real for him to ignore, and he opened his eyes to search for the source of the noise.
Abruptly, inexplicably, Karamatsu was standing, swaddled in the warm and humid summer air instead of the cool comfort of the freshly laid-out futon. There was the smell of smoke, the oohs and ahhs of an audience, laughter and cheering from children. The ground vibrated with the force of the explosions that sent light and color scattering through the sky where they in turn reflected in Karamatsu’s wide eyes.
“This freakin’ sucks. Everyone here is a goddamn couple.”
He looked to a side, to where Osomatsu stood in his red t-shirt—a match to Karamatsu’s blue one.
“…What?”