Swathes of snowflakes are falling outside the dining room window, catching what little light the streetlights of Kamakura provide. It’s an odd sight after living in Spain for the last four years and barely seeing any snowfall. It makes Sae’s heart twist just a bit—he’s in Japan again, and it is nostalgic, even despite the fact that it’s Japan.

The first day he was back, he stayed in a hotel after confronting you. He could easily just avoid going back home for the period of time he was here, but Mother offered to catch up in person—she wasn’t the sort of person that Sae could easily refuse. Father was able to get off from work late in the evening as well, so they decided on eating dinner together. As a family.

Sae finds himself sitting in front of you, separated by just a table. Your eyes burn with childish malice. He doubts you can strangle him from this distance—and he also doubts that you would do something so rash in front of your parents—so he doesn’t really care.

…Then again, however…

When Sae thinks back on a few days ago, the day before his scheduled arrival—when he saw you on that same, old football field of childhood memories—he saw the same Rin Itoshi of four years ago. Perhaps you had grown physically; perhaps you still had the delusions that because you were the best in Japan you were worthy, but in the end you were still that stupid eleven-year-old who settled for number two. This country was full of lifeless spectres, his little brother was no exception.

But you could smell the goals even despite. He couldn’t. His technical skill overwhelmed you, his football destroyed you in a time so fast it was a massacre—but he never learned what you truly meant in that offhand comment four years ago.

Maybe that’s why only the path of a midfielder was available for Sae.

Father is talking to him about Spain—was it what he expected? did he try food he really liked?—and Sae is responding, but he isn’t fully attentive.

He wonders if he made the right decision.