This is the Sequel to "Lets See Shall We", a little fiction I experimented with. This is going to be different in style and tone since I'm writing it in first person.. Here goes!

Summary: Kyouren is happy in Japan with Hanamichi, her twin. She's staying for good and life is good. But as former relationships deepen and new acquaintances enter the picture, everything gets.. complicated. (Sequel to Lets See Shall We)

Sakuragi's House

Prologue

It's been exactly thirty-two days. That's a day over a month since I've been here. It's a ritual of mine, to wake up, stare at the ceiling, and tick off one more day. It's not like it sounds, I love being here despite all the little inconveniences. Example. We have one bathroom, and it's downstairs. I sleep on the floor (but on a soft futon) and the worn wall-paper curls at the ends into little q's on one side of my room (apparently there was a leak in the roof sometime ago). The door to my room slides open, and its made of rice-paper. I often wonder, why there is a door anyhow. It doesn't block sound, and I doubt it traps air.

I always hear him stirring in the mornings, his feet hesitantly creeping up the creaky stairs, stopping halfway and listening, to hear if I'm awake. By that time, I recollect the exact the number of days I've been in this house, the location of my home, and my name, and smile stupidly at the low ceiling.

Thirty-two days.

Kanagawa, Japan.

Sakuragi Kyouren.

It's winter in Kanagawa, and the snow falls like I've never seen, except in mountains. Being from Southern California, feather light snow falling like icy stars is surreal. I'd never let Hanamichi know, it's way too sappy, but walking home from school with him when the snows falling is the happiest five minutes of my day.

Ayako and Haruko tease that I've changed him, and no matter how I brush it off, I worry that I have. He's still the same Hanamichi on the surface, boisterous, loud, and brash– but there's something subtly different about him.

I noticed it first, on the day when our birth certificates arrived in the mail. Hanamichi demanded to know who was the older twin. I couldn't care less which of us was a total of five to ten minutes older– but he was adamant.

"Oi.. You better call me onichan if I'm older," He demanded brusquely. He was smiling– but his face was twitchy. He might have been nervous.

"And If I'm older? Are you going to call me onesan?" I retorted jokingly. I was busy chasing after snow flakes drifting on our lawn, the rest of the mail slipping from my hands and turning wet in the snow. I really couldn't care less.

"Maybe," he muttered. And right before the door, before we had even stepped out of the cold, still wearing his sweat-soaked jersey, he tore the envelope open nearly ripping the papers inside.

I watched him curiously, interest piqued by his haste rather than the certificates. I watched as his fingers hastily brushed snow off the papers, and peered into them. It was only five, but it was a dark winters day. The street lamp was dim in the surrounding darkness. His eyes were focused so intently on the papers, I found myself holding my own breath.

His face darkened, and he for a minute he looked grim. I wondered if I was indeed older. I grinned as I waltzed up to him, ready to bait him. "It's me isn't it? I'm older?"

Hanamichi folded up the papers carefully, holding them under his arm. He didn't answer, but scooped up the rest of the mail, and turned to open the door.

"Say onechan Hana-chan.. I'm waiting," I grinned. I was imagining how I would force him to submit to my new found authority, when he pulled open the door and turned to me in a swift sudden movement.

"Wrong. I'm older," He retorted, pulling me into the house and flicking on the hallway lights.

I blinked at him in surprise. Not because of what he was saying, but because of his expression. Though he tried to hide it, there was a dead seriousness in his eyes, and his face. His smile was leaden.

"Hanamichi– "

"Oi! Onichan! Not Hanamichi.. And never again Hana-chan.." He grinned, cutting me off. He began poking me in the ribs repeatedly after that, and gasping in laughter I forgot to question him.

It was only at night, when I was laying in bed that I pictured his face, over and over, trying to read every line and wrinkle in his expression. All I could say for sure, was that Hanamichi looked worried, and it worried me.

It still worries me– when I catch him starring supposedly at the wall in the mornings, and I follow his gaze to a picture, of our father. Or when he starts yelling at Rukawa during basketball practice, then stops mid-shout, glancing at me, then blushes to match his hair.

I vocalized my worries to Ayako and Haruko. They both reassure me it's nothing, that Hanamichi is just maturing.

"Thank God," Ayako adds, earning a glare from me.

I worry that Hanamichi is changing because of me, when I just want him to be who he is. I worry that he feels uncomfortable being himself around me. But most of all, I worry that I am a burden to him, especially since he see's me now, in a very different light. I'm his "little sister", no longer just his twin.

I'd like to damn those five minutes that separate our ages. "Haruko, does Akagi-san.. Feel certain obligations as an older brother to you?" I asked, the other day in class.

Haruko was slow to answer my question. I watched as she pursed her pink lips, choosing her words carefully. Thoughtful, considerate Haruko. It's no wonder I seek her company the most, when I'm feeling troubled these days.

"Hmm.. Well, he is my onichan. He's always been a good role model for me, and he's always protected me when I was little. I blame him for not having a boyfriend," She joked, chuckling to herself in reverie. "I guess he does feel responsible for me in some ways."

Haruko's words fall heavy on my ears, as I lay here staring up at the ceiling. Responsible for me. It's both touching and irritating, to think that Hanamichi feels pressured to be a good "big" brother to me, that he needs to take care of me. I resolve to put an end to this nonsense. Five minutes will not ruin the easiness and spontaneity of our relationship.

"Oi Kyouren, breakfast!" Hanamichi bellows from below. I've been laying in bed for longer than usual. Hanamichi has made it a habit of making breakfast. I do lunch, and we both work on dinner. The kitchen always reminds me of the first time I stepped into Hanamichi's house, not knowing the effect it would have on me. The pictures, the mementos, the rusty kettle sitting on the dirty stove top, clenched my insides with deadening pain. It's different now. Instead of feeling sad, the wispy proofs of their existence in this house is welcoming, no longer sad. I think it's because I'm not alone.

I thump downstairs, my bare feet slapping against the cold wood. Hanamichi grins at me from the kitchen, cooking something that smells like its burning.

"Ohayo," I greet cheerfully. I pull out the sitting-table from the closet, and our sitting mats on the floor. As soon as I sit, Hanamichi, wearing a faded pink apron plops down two plates and two forks.

I stare at the mass of yellowy-brown on my plate, and discern, after some peering, that it's scrambled eggs. Hanamichi isn't the best cook. I wonder vaguely what he used to feed himself, before I got here. I have to give him props though, his cooking as improved. The first time he made breakfast, It was impossible to tell what he had made even after I tasted it.

Hanamichi is looking nervously at me, and without another word I pick up my fork, and shovel a load of eggs into my mouth. It doesn't taste as bad as it looks. "Delicious," I pronounce.

"Nyahahahahhaa.. Of course. It's the tensai's cooking!" And he digs in, complimenting from time to time, his own cooking.

As I chew the spongy eggs, I contemplate how to tell him, I want to be just his sister, not his responsibility. But every time I open my mouth, I see his beaming face and clamp my mouth shut. The last thing I want is to put a damper on his mood, which is unusually cheerful. He cracks a ridiculous comment, and I laugh before I can get my thoughts together.

"I'm going by the courts this morning," he announces, after our plates are clear.

"But it's five inches covered in snow," I exclaim in protest. The outdoor court is our favorite spot. I go jogging in the nearby park, and he practices his shots. I watch him sometimes, and usually Haruko tags along too. Hanamichi is overjoyed when she does.

"I'm not going to play basketball," he explains. "Takamiya got sleds from his work. Want to go sledding?"

I voice my enthusiasm with a excited shriek, and I'm running upstairs to bundle myself up in scarves and coats. I can hear Sakuragi ringing Haruko from downstairs. I decide to delay the serious talk, and get ready to have fun.

That's what living with Hanamichi ultimately is.

Fun.

ooooooooooooooooo

I know this is somewhat short and redundant.. But I'm trying to reintroduce the old story, Kyouren as a character, and ease into the new setting. I hope it's done it's job. Please feel free to critique and question:)

Onichan/Onisan- Older brother

Onechan/Onesan- Older sister