Join the new world

“Gyokuro.” His brother said, deeply inhaling the fresh marine scent of the tea leaves - almost like seaweed. The air-tight container had been laying on the counter, having been moved there by Yuto in the shuffle to put together a moment of nostalgic relaxation. Aoto always did this.

“You’ll ruin it.” Yuto said mildly as he poured hot spring water into a cold tea pot. The water began to cool immediately, infusing the pot itself with heat. Brewing tea was all about order and patience, that was what his grandmother had always said. Yuto didn’t look directly at his brother, but instead focused on the task at hand, his hand moving close to the pot to gauge the temperature. He knew by feel what he was waiting for.

“You’re the one who ruins things.” Aoto said, voice deceptively calm, quiet and yet with a firmness to it like steel. He had a gift for saying things that should have devastated someone as if he were speaking to a loved one. “You worked for the Ministry of Education for…days? Minutes?”

Yuto could hear the smile in his twin’s voice as he poured water into two mugs and then drained the rest out of the pot into a sink. In went a scoop of the deeply forest green gyokuro leaves. Shade grown, they were rolled into needle-like points, almost full leaves. The fragrance changed, yet remained savory as he closed up the container of dry ingredient, brushing past his brother in doing so. “That wasn’t mine to ruin.” He said in return, as if he was used to the pattern of this argument.

The water in the mugs cooled quickly and he poured it back in at room temperature to the pot, so that the tea could brew. It really did take him back to conversations with his grandmother. She’d always said that tea should be shared, because it was always best with company. He’d once asked her if that’s why she set out an extra mug - in hopes someone would join her. She told him no. It was for her late husband.

Tea was the best time for conversations with ghosts.

He leaned against the counter, arms folded across his chest, his shoulders hunched inward as if to close himself off from Aoto.

“Ah, you blame the imperial?” The question came from right beside Yuto’s ear, his brother having gotten closer to him at some point. He turned his head just quickly enough to spot the telltale lines of a smile on a face.

“No. He’s a flame. You don’t blame a flame for burning. You blame the people who didn’t think to use it as light or heat, who curse it when it doesn’t do as they desire. Because it’s fire and that’s its nature.” Yuto’s words were hushed, but with Aoto so close, there was no chance he didn’t hear.



“That’s stupid. Uncontrolled fire is a liability. It just causes destruction in everything it touches.” A pause and then. “The tea is ready.”

Yuto pulled away from the counter, reaching for the tea pot so he could pour out the syrupy thick brew into either of the ceramic containers. Then he lifted both up and began towards his study, a room filled with books and terrariums that made everything seem green with life. Glass in every shape and size, spread everywhere. He sat at a small table and put his brother’s mug down, then his own. “Sometimes a fire is needed to make something new. Forests grow old and thick, so old that every part of them begins to die, choked by darkness from a too thick canopy and old rot. Sometimes all that decay needs to be burned away to make the land hospitable to new growth again.” He said as he lifted the tea. He drank, sipping it really. He felt the flavor move over his tongue and it was full-bodied, tasting of herbal, of grass and seaweed. Then there was this hit of sweetness right at the end that made a low rumble resonate from deep in his chest.

“Not what I thought you’d say. A candle flame is easier to put out when it’s served its purpose, but you’re talking about…” Yuto cut off Aoto.

“You misunderstand. He was never a candle flame. He was always a wildfire.” And then another sip of his drink. His brother partook as well, lifting the stoneware to his lips to sip deeply from it.

“So who do you blame for your failure?”

“Who said anything about failure? You think too much like father.” Yuto said, reaching for a book to one side. The fukurotoji bound anthology was a collection of poems and illustrations. “You assume I’m not exactly where I thought I’d be.”

There was laughter on the other side of the table and Yuto glanced up, greeted by a constellation of blood droplets splattered on a face identical to his own. “You don’t fool me. You didn’t plan for this.”

Yuto did not seem unnerved by the sight. “Not that specifically, no. We both know how these things work. The people in power make the rules. They’re older, more experienced, have more political capital. If they choose not to make a space for someone, they don’t have to, because they already have what they want. The system serves them.”

“So you admit there’s no place for you here.” There was that cold smile again.

“If I left it up to them? I doubt there’d be space for anyone that didn’t do exactly as they please. It was alarming though, I admit. Finding out he was fired unceremoniously while asleep. Even father would have handled that better. Business is done a certain way after all.” Yuto continued to drink his tea, his book half opened, one hand lifting the cup and one supporting the bottom.

“You’re boring me now, talking in circles. All you’re saying is that they’re better than you. Stronger. More capable. That they choose whose voices deserve to be heard.”

This time, Yuto wore the grin. “You misunderstand again, brother. They aren’t the enemy you want to make them out to be. Silence is the enemy. Silence is death. They can speak all they want, and as long as there is air in my lungs, I will do the same.”

He was greeted at these words by quiet in his study, an untouched cup of tea on the table across from him, waiting for a ghost.