By: nekonezumi


It was just like him, to work the hardest and practice the hardest than everyone. When he trained for budo in high school he was the last one who stayed behind. Though he looked frail and sickly with his light complexion and feminine limbs his body was without any doubt strong, the black belt and all the competitions he won not only in budo was proof enough. Girls called him their Oji-sama, their prince by the way he looked and carried himself, graceful and proud. Only his beautiful face betrayed his indifference to the people around him except to me, his younger brother. He was kind and was always gentle; I never did saw him angry.

When I was a 5 and he was 9 years old, I often thought that behind those baggy pants and loose shirts was a girl, his features looks so much like one, so soft and delicate the same like my mom. Though we are brothers you can tell immediately that we looked almost completely different, I took from father, it was perhaps only my hair and thin lips that was from my mother, everything else was from my dad. My brother's raven hair although cut short, the unmistakable loose strands that strayed on his face told us that if held on your hands would feel as soft as it looks. There was only this one time that he came home ragged and dirty, evident that he had been in a fight but he didn't seem to mind. I run to him worried when I saw the cuts and bruises on his arms and legs but he had just rested his bruised hand on top of my head and grinned. All I could do at that time was stare, feeling the fluttering sensation inside me. I blushed.

Yes…I have as long as I could remember admired him, my older brother.

AN: reviews please. thank you.