Things I'll Overcome Someday - 3
I slipped out onto the balcony as quietly as I could, careful not to draw anyone's notice. Rainy summer days always left me strangely out of sorts.
No—there was nothing strange about it. I knew perfectly well why. I was still trapped in that day. Even nine years later, I still couldn't forget.
I looked up at a sky heavy with dark clouds. Black again. Every time I saw it, it felt like my sister's feelings toward me, and my shoulders sank. It had been black then, too. And the rain had poured just like this.
I'm sorry, Sister.
I had long since passed the age she had been. The height that had once seemed so tall to me as a child—I had overtaken it with ease. She had stopped in the past, and I was growing up alone. I'm sorry. I'm truly sorry.
But no matter how many times I apologized, it would never reach her. People say the souls of the good stay by those they loved in life and become guardian spirits—but she had hated me. She wouldn't be at my side. She must be in heaven.
Even so, I couldn't stop apologizing. Because it was my fault. Because her leaving was my fault.
"—ise—"
I didn't think I would see her even after I died, but still…
"Luise?"
My older brother's voice reached me then, and a weight settled on my shoulder.
"O-Older Brother?"
It startled me so badly I jumped. Only after I turned around did the thought hit me. Had I been crying without realizing it? Were the corners of my eyes red?
I had been invited to his family home and was supposed to be enjoying myself. If a guest looked miserable, that would be rude to him.
Fortunately, I must not have cried without knowing it—he said nothing of the sort. He only fretted that I was standing out in the rain.
I had only just stepped outside, and he had already noticed and come after me. He really was so kind.
If only I were more like him.
If I had been even half the person he was—no, even a quarter—would my sister still have left? Looking at the way he and Erich got along, I was sure of it. Yes. She would have stayed.
The thought made me glance sideways at him. He stood beside me, gazing out over the garden. After that one worried remark, he simply stayed quiet.
Would it be all right?
Suddenly it occurred to me—if it was him, maybe I could talk about my sister.
The idea had come out of nowhere, and yet it also felt like a good one. I couldn't bring myself to tell the others.
I knew those girls meant well by me, and I still refused them for personal reasons. Dumping those personal reasons on them one-sidedly would be far too selfish. It would look like I only sought them out when I needed something.
But with him—with an older brother who treated me like a little sister and looked out for me—
"You and Erich seem very close."
Of course it was childish. I was leaning on his kindness and throwing a tantrum, pure and simple. That was selfish enough on its own. From his side, having a heavy topic dropped on him out of nowhere might well be upsetting.
But my mouth had already opened. I had held it in all this time, yet somehow, today, I couldn't. The weather was the same as that day, and he was here—someone who looked as if he would listen gently.
So I let it out. Everything I had carried alone. Everything I had never been able to say even to my parents, who shared the same grief.
Idiot.
Only after I had said it all did my senses return. You fool—why would you dump something like that on him? You only bothered a busy man for nothing.
I added a belated apology, but he must already have been disappointed—
"O-Older Brother?"
His hand came down on my head. It was so sudden I almost thought for a second he meant to hit me—though of course he wouldn't—and then his fingers started working through my hair, mussing it every which way.
"You don't have to apologize for that."
At those words I found myself looking straight into his eyes.
"You didn't do anything wrong."
Really?
The word rose all the way to my throat, but I couldn't force it out. Simply accepting what he said would have been too unfair to my sister.
If I admitted here that none of it was my fault, then she would have died for no reason at all. I was grateful for his words, but I couldn't do that.
I kept my mouth shut, and he went on ruffling my hair without another word. His hand grew firmer, until it wasn't only my hair that was being tossed around—my whole head started wobbling from side to side.
Was this my punishment for saying something unnecessary? I'm sorry—I'm getting very dizzy, Older Brother. Or was I being punished for not answering? Either way, I was the one at fault.
"Thank you for telling me."
But it was neither. He wasn't scolding me. It was just a somewhat vigorous show of affection.
"You have to tell someone if you want to be comforted at all."
I couldn't lift my head at that. Was that how it looked? That I had spoken because I wanted comfort?
That wasn't it. I had simply wanted to pour it out to anyone at all. Someone like me had never dared hope for comfort.
Even so, something in my chest prickled. I told myself I was a sinner, that I had no right to be comforted—and still, hearing it made me want to cry.
"You didn't want her to die."
That's right. Of course I didn't. Who would ever wish for their only sister to die?
"And you didn't look away, either."
Yes. I didn't look away. Because I bore responsibility for her leaving.
"You haven't forgotten, either."
Of course not. How could I forget? It was something I could never forget.
Even if I told myself I didn't deserve it, the longer his comfort went on, the more I wanted to hear. Just a little more. Just a little. Any words at all. Even empty ones would do.
"There's no one who would say it was your fault."
Was that true? Was there really no one who would blame me?
My parents had only ever blamed themselves. The household servants who knew about it had looked at me with pity and hurried to hush the subject. Beyond that, I had never opened my heart to anyone.
Would other people really not blame me either? Even knowing what happened, would they say it wasn't my fault?
If it's Older Brother saying it…
He had always been considerate of me. And he had never once lied.
Yes. If he said it, it must be true. It would be true.
…Or rather, I wanted to believe it was. Because the words I had secretly longed to hear had come from someone I could trust.
"It's starting to get cold. You go in first."
Even after my one-sided outburst, he answered with nothing but care and sent me inside ahead of him. As if he weren't just as cold.
Before I went in, I saw that he was a little damp from the rain himself. I should bring him something to dry off with. If he stayed wet, he might catch a cold.
I looked around for one, and my eyes met Erich's—he was standing a little apart from the others.
"Luise, were you outside?"
"Yeah. Just getting some air for a minute."
"Still, you shouldn't stay out long enough to get soaked."
Erich rummaged through a nearby drawer, pulled out a towel, and handed it over. Of course—someone who actually lived here would know right where things were.
"Could I have one more?"
"Oh—is one not enough?"
I flicked a glance toward the balcony, and Erich looked that way too. He nodded and fetched another towel.
"That's surprising. He doesn't usually like the rain much."
I couldn't just walk past that. My steps toward the balcony stopped. He doesn't like it? Older Brother, too?
"Why? Did something happen?"
"Ah."
Erich made a small sound and hesitated a moment before he finally spoke. It wasn't a pleasant story, he said, so he couldn't go into detail.
"There was a big incident a few years ago. Everyone was worried my brother might die."
And it had been raining then as well. At that added remark, my mind went blank. So I had stood in front of someone with trauma of his own and whined about how hard mine was? To the older brother I already owed so much?
The hand holding the towels trembled. He had a wound in his heart just like mine—and he had comforted me instead?
"Don't tell anyone. Got it?"
"Mm-hm…"
I managed a nod at Erich's second warning. How could I ever tell anyone? I kept my own story locked away tight. What right did I have to speak of his?
I walked weakly back toward the balcony and saw his back. Until a moment ago it had looked solid and vast. Now it looked different.
So that was it. The reason he had always seemed a little strange. The thing he had been hiding, avoiding, carrying.
Of course I didn't know the details. And I shouldn't. Until he chose to tell me himself, I was supposed to know nothing.
"Older Brother!"
I mustn't look odd. I mustn't look as if I were fretting over him or pitying him. If the girl who had just gone inside came back out with a dark face, he would get suspicious.
So smile. In front of him, I could smile easily enough.
He was the one who had comforted me first, who had held me up. The first person I had ever opened my heart to.
I'll wait.
For the day he would open up to me, too. For the day I could comfort him in return.
Looking at him smiling back at me, I made myself that promise.
I was touched by her kindness—coming back out just because the department chief had gotten a little wet. Thinking of such a good-hearted girl suffering alone all this time brought tears to my eyes without warning.
Please be happy.
If Luise overcame her trauma, I would find the courage to move forward myself. That was still true. But even setting my own courage aside, I simply wanted to see that soft pink girl laugh without a single scar left on her.
Hang in there, Luise. If there's any justice in this world, a protagonist like you is bound for a happy ending.