Chapter 159 Losing the Last Brother
Chapter 159 Losing the Last Brother
“I tried to look for him, but he had already moved.”
“I asked around the neighborhood. Nobody knew why. The family had just… left. A moving truck came, took their things—and that was it.”
Alessandra did everything she could.
She begged her parents to find out where Iryoku and his family had gone, but they didn’t know either. There was no forwarding address. No new phone numbers. No contact information.
They were just as shocked as she was. Their families had once shared a close relationship.
No one had been told about the move.
Perhaps they left because this place held too many memories—
memories of the boys’ disappearance.
A disappearance that had never been resolved.
But deep down, Alessandra believed she knew the real reason.
It was because of what she had done to Iryoku.
She told her parents everything.
The truth shattered the image they had always believed in—their daughter, the protector, the dependable one.
A sharp sound echoed.
Slap.
“Do you know what you’ve done?!” her mother, Alessia, cried, striking her in anguish.
Her father stood behind her, gripping his wife’s trembling hands, trying to restrain her.
Alessandra didn’t react.
She didn’t flinch.
She didn’t lift her head.
She only stared at the floor, hatred toward herself boiling silently inside.
“I know,” she said.
“I’m a monster. A despicable person.”
“I lost my last brother—pushed away by my own hands. A boy who loved me with all his heart.”
Pain twisted her parents’ faces. They had both noticed the closeness between their daughter and Iryoku. They had assumed—perhaps even hoped—that one day they would become a couple.
They never imagined it would end like this.
Then she felt it—arms wrapping tightly around her.
Her mother and father pulled her into an embrace.
“We’re sorry,” her father said. “We didn’t give you enough attention. We neglected you.”
“I’m sorry, tesoro,” her mother sobbed. “I let my fears consume me… We failed you. We didn’t see how far you were slipping.”
The three of them cried together.
They went to the school.
Her parents demanded accountability from the boys and girls involved.
Parents were called in. Accusations flew—Kana’s parents, the families of students bullied by Ryuuji’s group.
An uproar was about to erupt.
Then the video was shown—the recording of what they had done to Iryoku.
But it didn’t change anything.
Even though Alessandra testified and accepted her guilt, Ryuuji’s parents—far wealthier than the others—offered money.
To the victims.
To their families.
Even to Alessandra herself.
The adult world was different.
The school pushed for a settlement. No scandals. No ruined futures.
By then, the school year was nearly over.
Most of the students would soon transfer to different high schools, scattering beyond reach.
And the most important person—the true victim—was gone.
Iryoku wasn’t there to demand justice.
In the end, Alessandra and her parents stopped fighting. They refused the money.
They no longer had the strength for more chaos.
Alessandra still graduated.
But nothing about it felt like victory anymore.
She chose a different high school—far from the others. Not out of hatred.
She no longer had any.
Only guilt and shame remained.
Every familiar face pulled her back to what she had done.
Her high school years passed quietly. She spoke little, kept to herself, and slowly faded into the background.
One afternoon, she paused at the edge of the schoolyard. The baseball team was practicing. She watched for a while, feeling a faint—almost painful—itch to join.
Some of the boys noticed her.
“Hey, Mamoru’s watching us.”
“Do you want to play?”
“If you like baseball, you could be our manager!”
They smiled. They tried. They showed off a little.
Even in her withdrawn state, she still drew attention—easy laughter, casual flirting from boys who knew nothing about her past.
Alessandra shook her head and walked away.
Why should I be happy? she thought.
At home, she would drop onto her bed, turn on the TV, and stare without really watching. When she stayed still for too long, dark thoughts crept in.
What if I disappeared?
Would the world be better? Would the weight crushing my chest finally ease?
She shifted beneath the covers and became aware of her body in a way she hadn’t before. The unfamiliar heaviness unsettled her. She stood and walked to the mirror.
…I’m getting fat, she thought. She, who usually wouldn’t care about what she ate, had always maintained a healthy body—taller than most—and although she often ignored it, she knew her curves were more pronounced and developed than her peers’.
Her stomach had begun to round out. Her hand rested against it. It’s because I don’t go out anymore.
Then a weird, almost fantastical image flashed through her mind: she imagined appearing in front of Iryoku, now fat and ugly. She would feel inferior and inadequate—not that she wasn’t feeling that way already.
…This is probably what he felt.
The thought tightened something deep in her chest.
I need to do something. Maybe exercise…
And then she remembered.
Long ago, when she had climbed through the window using the tree. He hadn’t noticed her—she had wanted to surprise him.
He was doing push-ups.
Not many. But he tried.
Then squats.
Sit-ups.
Punches thrown into the empty air.
She had stood there for minutes, watching in silence. His small body trembled, sweat sliding down his face—yet he kept going, completely focused. She hadn’t interrupted him. She had quietly left.
Trying to become stronger.
Trying to become better.
Now she understood why.
For her.
Alessandra stopped thinking.
She dropped to the floor and began.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five—
Her arms burned as she pushed herself up. Then she switched to sit-ups, breath coming hard and fast.
Exercise became her only distraction.
Training her body kept her mind occupied—
and pushed the destructive thoughts away.
She worked until she collapsed in sweat, muscles trembling and burning.
And for a little while—
the pain kept her alive.
By the time she reached college, Alessandra had no idea what path to take in life. She felt empty—directionless.
After some advice from her parents, she chose to become a P.E. teacher. It wasn’t academically demanding, and it aligned with the only thing she still allowed herself to enjoy: exercise.
What had begun as atonement—
as a way to keep her mind quiet, to keep her body in shape for him—
slowly became routine.
For a return that would probably never happen.
Maybe I could do some good, she thought.
Maybe I could help kids.
Eventually, she moved out of her parents’ home and into a small apartment near campus.
Her life remained lonely.
She never formed connections she didn’t believe she deserved. Whenever a guy asked her out, she rejected him without hesitation. She wouldn’t fall for looks, for pretty words, for coercion, or any kind of shallow display.
She always compared them to Iryoku—
to the small boy who had shown quiet strength, resilience, and kindness far beyond his size.
Sweet.
Smart.
Determined.
None of them measured up.
Nobody ever could.
And nobody ever will.
Her mind never stopped replaying the past.
Kei’s disappearance.
Kota’s disappearance.
And the way she herself had hurt Iryoku.
Sometimes the memory of the video struck without warning.
Her own face.
Twisted with rage.
Her fists crashing into his bound body.
She remembered the smile she had worn while hurting him.
Even if she had never meant to harm him—he had been helpless. Tied. His head covered. She had fallen into the boys’ trap… and then the kick.
The memory made her sick.
She would run to the bathroom and vomit, shaking as disgust twisted deep in her chest.
How could I do that?
The questions always returned.
If I ever met him again… could I say sorry?
Could we fix this?
Could he ever forgive me?
Those nights, she cried herself to sleep.
Sometimes she dreamed.
She was sitting alone in the park—the place they had always played. The world was quiet and heavy, wrapped in darkness.
Then a small figure appeared, walking toward her with a gentle smile.
Two more boys followed behind him, smaller still. He guided them by the hand.
Together, the three of them walked toward her, the path beneath their feet lighting up with every step.
“Ale Onee-chan,” his sweet voice called.
“I found them.”
Kota and Kei smiled from behind him.
“We’re back.”
She rushed forward and pulled all three into her arms, holding them tightly, sobbing—
only to wake up.
Her pillow was soaked with tears.
The warmth of the dream was already gone,
leaving it as nothing more than a dream.
Time passed.
After graduation—after earning her certification—Alessandra finally became a teacher.
She was assigned to a high school close to her old home.
By then, her parents had already moved to another city. They couldn’t bear living in a place weighed down by memories—of a son who had vanished, of a disappearance that never found answers.
Alessandra understood.
She rented a small, cheap apartment near her new job.
One morning, standing alone in her room, she lifted her hands and lightly slapped her cheeks.
Focus.
“I’ll be a good teacher,” she told herself.
“Someone my brothers would’ve looked up to.”
Kei.
Kota.
Iryoku.
She straightened her posture and drew a slow breath.
Her gaze drifted to the nightstand, where several framed photographs stood in a row. She touched each one briefly, pausing only a second—until she reached the last frame.
A red letter.
She picked it up and read the lines once more, though she already knew every word by heart—forward and backward.
Guilt still clung to her. It always had.
But she stepped forward anyway.
As she passed through the living room, her eyes fell on the old game console by the wall. Beside it sat Kei’s small clay figurine, slightly chipped with age.
She stopped.
“I’m going,” she whispered.
Then she turned and walked out the door—
toward her new job,
carrying the past with her.