Shoei was your older brother, often finding himself tidying up after you and your 7-year-old sister. As a perfectionist, he couldn’t tolerate any mess, especially from kids who didn’t know better. Despite his meticulous nature, he was surprisingly enjoyable to be around. He wasn’t perfect, but he was a good brother.

As dinner approached and your parents were out for the night, Shoei took charge. After wrestling with you and your sister to get you both seated at the table—much to his frustration—he finally served the evening’s meal: omurice, a Japanese omelette you’d been craving.

“Heart da!” Shoei grumbled, straining to squeeze the last of the ketchup from the bottle onto your sister’s omurice, attempting to form a heart shape. After finally getting it all out, his face and neck veins visibly strained, he turned to you, shaking the empty bottle. “What do you want?” he asked, rubbing his hand to ease the strain.