The Oshiro family were an old elite family with political connections. Lawyers, judges, politicians, these were the sorts of positions that their sons and daughters were expected to aspire to. The current matriarch was once a respected judge, her deceased husband a politician and her daughter a lawyer. Her son-in-law, who had married into the family and taken the name as his own was an astute business man, dealing mainly in the financial world. All of the Oshiro's were Alphas. As expected, Alpha children were born to the couple, first a female, then a male. But the Oshiro's had a secret that they attempted to hide within the shadows of their household; a second boy had been born to them and that boy was an Omega.
Hideaki Oshiro didn't understand what that meant, he only had ever wanted to play with the baby that was his brother, younger by four years. His sister had always ignored him and he had found it hard to make friends at the private elementary school his parents sent him too. But the baby had to like him, right? "Mother, where's the baby?" He recalled asking one evening some time after the swelling of his mother had vanished.
"It's asleep," his mother replied shortly, while sipping at her morning coffee.
"What's his name?" He asked, innocently.
"It doesn't have a name," she told him.
"Why?"
"It doesn't need a name," her voice contained a sharp edge that he'd never heard before.
"What should I call him then?" He asked, confused. "Mother, when can I play with the baby?"
A horrified expression spread across her usually composed features. "Let's not talk about that now. How was school today?"
Hideaki was gently distracted for a short time, but it did not take long for his curiosity to take hold once more. Less than a week later, he snuck from his room and wandered down the corridors following the helpless cries of the baby as they echoed through the night. The nursery was far from the families sleeping quarters, a heartlessly plain room that contained nothing but a cot. Squirming beneath his blankets, the baby's face was red and eyes wet from crying, the mop of dark hair on his head sticky to touch. But the young Hideaki was completely enchanted, nonetheless. He poked his chubby fingers through the bars of the cot to touch the baby's soft skin. Instinctively, perhaps, the baby reached for him, his tears temporarily abated as he sought for the warmth of his brother. The baby snuffled for a bit, before falling into an exhausted slumber. Hideaki simply watched what seemed like for hours, but was probably only minutes before he returned to his own bed.
His visits to the baby's room did not end there, but he sensed from the attitude of his parents and the servants that he should definitely keep them a secret. He was happy, though, when he found out that the baby had finally been given a name; Yori.
But the happiness he shared with his brother was not to last. It was not long after Yori's second birthday; he had been so excited about giving Yori the picture he had painted at school as a gift, he hadn't expected his parents to be home early that day. He didn't hear them as they called, while bounding up the stairway towards the distant room his brother was confined in. Yori had looked up at him from where he sat, playing with one of the old picture books Hideaki had slipped into his possession once and offered the small rare smile reserved only for his brother.
"Look what I have!" Hideaki had boasted, rummaging around in his backpack for the precious picture. The door behind them slammed open, a look of fear swept across the younger boy's face, before Hideaki had turned to see his outraged parents standing above him. A slap smarted his cheeks, though he was too shocked to feel the pain, before he was dragged from the room, his picture all but forgotten.
It would be sometime before Hideaki would see his brother again and it had slowly been fed into him that Omegas were bad and dirty, a creature that could tarnish an Alpha's good name. They were stupid, he was told, like animal's and the one in their house was lucky to be fed and clothed, for other Alpha families would not tolerate one under their roof. Under the scrutiny of his parents, Hideaki folded to the pressure of their words and did not try to see the child, who's smile had made him happy.
Thirteen years passed, Hideaki was studying law as instructed by his parents and his sister had moved into her new husband's home. No one would have expected that there was another child of the family, especially as he had not left the house since graduating middle school. If it were not for the subject he was forced to study, Hideaki might had enjoyed being a university, indeed it was still favourable to being in that house, he had decided. He was known as a serious student, just simply because he would rather be in school than at home. However, that afternoon, he had been summoned home early.
"Simply entertain Mr Himura for a spell," his mother had told him on the phone. "We agreed to meet at the house at 3pm, but this case turned out to be more complicated than originally thought and I won't be able to return until at least 4pm."
"I'm home," Hideaki reluctantly called out as he entered the foyer.
"Greetings, young Master," the butler greeted. "A Mr Himura arrived a short while ago. I have word from the Mistress that you would be meeting him on her behalf?"
"Yes," Hideaki agreed. "Is he in the reception room?"
"Ah, as Mr Himura is the president of a publishing company, I suggested he might prefer the library."
"Oh, okay, I'll head there now then."
The library was more for decoration and appearance within the Oshiro household than for actually usage. His father felt it a waste of time to be reading when one could be making money. Hideaki had occasional held study groups there, but otherwise he knew it to be used by just one other person in the house. Mr Himura did not look out of place in there. Perhaps that was because Mr Himura did not look like the people his mother usually entertained. He was short, elderly, his face weathered by more than age, but his eyes sparkled like a man half his age. Currently, he was sitting on the uncomfortable leather couch at the centre of the room, reading some paperwork that had been left there.
"Ah greetings, young man," he smiled amicably. "You must be the young Hideaki Oshiro, Kaokuro is so proud of. I am Kenta Himura."
"Nice to meet you," Hideaki greeted.
"I confess, I was not expecting to find such a gem on my visit," Himura indicated the papers he had been reading from. "Such a talent with words. Is it yours?"
Hideaki shook his head as he curiously indicated an interest. Himura handed him the work without a word. It seemed it was part of a story, Hideaki couldn't really tell whether it was good or not, despite it having caught the older man's attention. Hideaki recalled that he was president of a publishing company, before another realisation came to him. He felt the blood rush from his face.
"An employee of your household then?" Himura asked, insistently. Hideaki failed to look him in the eye, let alone offer a coherent answer. "Will it cause you trouble to introduce me to the author?"
"Well, you see, the person who I think wrote this is an Omega," he said, cautiously.
"Oh is that all!" The old man chuckled so easily that Hideaki felt the guard built up so painstakingly by his parents lower slightly. "Come, come! If we are to unite our households by marriage, I should meet all your family, should I not! And besides, a talent like this ought to be shared!" His enthusiasm was so catching that Hideaki hadn't the time to ponder over his words and felt himself swept up by Himura's pace. Before he knew it, he was leading the man out of the library, up the staircase to the sleeping quarters and down the corridor he had not set foot within for so long. He felt a bud of excitement at the thought of seeing his little brother, whom he'd once held so dear. What he saw behind the squeaky door of Yori's bedroom was not what he had been expecting.
The room was still as plain and undecorated as ever, though the cot had been replaced by a simple, single-sized bed. In the corner lay clear piles of notebooks, school books and books that may have come from the library. Yori sat near these piles hugging a notebook as he stared at the door as they came in, his face gaunt and pale. Hideaki's old clothes hung off of his very skinny frame, his long hair hung sorry and loose over narrow shoulders. His large, fearful eyes quickly glanced away, to stare instead at the bare floor beneath his feet.
"Y-Yori," the word stuck in Hideaki's throat, his body frozen to where he stood.
Himura's hesitation was momentary. He swept into the room, his presence seeming so large despite his stature in that plain room. A startled Yori pressed his back into the wall as if trying to make himself smaller. "Greetings, my name is Kenta, nice to meet you," his voice was quiet and calming. "You are called Yori?"
The boy nodded slightly, his large eyes cautious and distrustful, so unlike those Hideaki recalled. His vision began to blur. What had happened to his beloved baby brother? And what had he been doing these past years that had ignored this? Granted, when he was a child, he'd had little choice but to obey his parents wishes, but he was an adult now, such excuses could not cut it. Yori's stomach rumbled, disturbing the silence in the room.
"Are you hungry Yori?" Himura asked calmly. "When was the last time you ate?"
"Um.. yesterday?" Yori's voice was almost inaudible and cracked dryly. "Tomo was ill, again." Himura questioned his words. "If Tomo is sick, he can't bring the food."
Tomo was a servant? Hideaki wondered, silently. "I will get you something now, Yori," his rage bubbling beneath the surface of his words. He did not want Yori to think his anger was directed at him, when in truth it was reserved for his parents, the other servants, even this Tomo. But mostly the anger he held was for himself. His ire propelled him down into the kitchens, where a tray of tidbits had already been assembled for the household's guest. The servants cried out in surprise as he grabbed the tray forcefully, before begging him to tell them what was wrong. They chased him for a moment, but hesitated as the butler appeared before them all.
"Young Master, is something wrong?"
"Did you know about this?" Hideaki asked, quietly. "Did you know that my brother is sitting in his room practically starving, having eaten nothing since sometime yesterday? And were you aware that this is not the first time?"
"Forgive me, young Master," the butler bowed. "I will send Tomo with this tray." A whispering of curiosity behind him catching his attention and Hideaki realised that these people had no knowledge of what they spoke of.
"Sorry, sir," one said, aloud, "but Tomo isn't here, right now. He's at home, unwell, sir."
"Why was I not informed of this?" The butler asked.
"Well, sir," the informant, fidgeted uncomfortably, "that lad is often sickly, we have to chase him home frequently. But he has his mother to think about, she doesn't work and it's just the two of them you see..."
Hideaki laughed without mirth. I see, he thought, so the servants were just looking out for one of their own and likely as his parents were only ever looking after their own reputation, this Tomo desperate to work had been easily silenced over his brother's existence. And the butler, the only other servant in the house to know about Yori, had, through no fault of his own, let Yori suffer. No, it was the Oshiro family's fault that Yori was treated so poorly. He rubbed at the tears caused by the mire of emotions he felt at that moment and proceeded to head for Yori's room.
"Young Master!" The butler reached out after him. "Forgive me, but I can't allow you to meet with him!" Hideaki dodged, reflexively.
"Don't touch me," Hideaki snapped, "what you or rather what my parents want means nothing to me right now."
He couldn't quite recall what happened after that having sunk so deeply into the dark swirl of shame and anger. Yori had fallen almost ravenously on the food as Himura pried details of his writings from him. The boy gave monotonous, short answers at first, as if not understanding the joy his words had given the older man. "Do you like writing, Yori?" Hideaki found himself asking in admidst of this.
Yori shrugged, slightly. The colour was beginning to return to his face, though he remained overly pale. "I write what I don't want to forget."
"These are memories?" Himura asked. "Then why write as if these things happened to someone else?"
"It's easier?" Yori questioned his own reason.
"Is it easier to imagining the bad things happened to another, rather than yourself?" Even Himura's soothing voice seemed to crack beneath the words he spoke.
Yori shook his head. "Easier to imagine that the good things did, then don't long for them so much once they've gone." Himura visibly made a snap decision in that moment.
"Yori, would you come and write for me?" He asked, before explaining himself further. "You have a gift for words, young man. I want you to allow me to share your words with everyone. The company I own creates books." For the first time, Yori's eyes began to sparkle at the mention of books. "I want to turn your writings into books, Yori." Hideaki was stunned, pleased for his little brother, but surprised nonetheless. After all, could an Omega even become an author? He sliced the prejudiced thought mentally in two, chastising himself for allowing his parents influence to affect him still. "But I doubt you will be able to fulfill my dreams here, Yori. So what I really am asking is will you leave this house and come with me?"
"Leave the house?" Yori asked, timidly, clearly fearful again. "But I'm not allowed..."
"Yori," Hideaki interrupted, "leave this house." His brother flinched at the force of his words. He knelt down before the boy and softened his words. "I wanted to be a good brother, but I failed you. If I can do one thing now it's to wish that you find a place that can accept you and be kind to you and allow you to want to keep your good memories for yourself, not give them to one of your characters. So please, Yori, leave this house and find it."
Hideaki helped Himura gather Yori's clothes and precious notebooks, which happened to include a childish painting of a family; a mother, father, sister and two brothers, before sweeping Yori from the mansion for the final time.
His mother greeted him with a sharp slap to the face once she had returned. How could he make such a bad impression on President Himura. That man was the Alpha patriarch of a large old family and had several Alpha granddaughters of marriageable age, potential brides for the heir of the Oshiro family and Hideaki had ruined those plans on a whim! She did not mention once Yori's name or anything about him. He was never mentioned once in the years that followed either, it was as if he had never existed.
So it was to Hideaki's amazement and almost disbelief when he viewed the tall man, with narrow, proud features walking towards him. His black hair tied back, he held himself confidently and though he was slender, he was not the awkward, lanky creature in Hideaki's memories. Indeed, for a moment, he had doubts, but he couldn't help but call out; "Yori? Is that you?" Delight, relief and joy swept through him as the man reacted to the name. "It's me, Hideaki, your brother."