10. My Almost Brother

My Almost Brother

Hiro

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I spare a glance from the corner of my eyes to his more than concentrated leaf green irises. Well, so much for him being gay. “Dude, as much as I want to ask what the hell you’re up for, I can’t see how that brain of yours doesn’t get that she’s jealous.” I gulp in the dead pan.

My own guilt, shame or whatever the hell my warped mind did boiling to the surface of my cheeks and ears in a blush. I’m thinking about her getting mad, and interfering with Nema while Ayame takes Haru by the ear and drags him off.

“Time to go son,” Oh, thank Sages. Dad.

“Boy,” Dad stops for what is probably the dozenth time on our long trek home. “This is slow even for you.” I admit that my turtle has reverted to a snail and that I’m completely dreading facing her again after what happened.

It didn’t happen. I mean, I don’t have to play the real not real game for that, but in the same moment...... Even if it’s not real, I can’t unsee it.

Aya is more than my best friend, almost brother, not sister, adopted sort of cousin. She’s my person. The one who’s always translated the world in a way I can understand, other than my Dad.

Why the hell would my brain come up with something like that?

She’s not my blood, hates the word brother and calls me her cousin. A distinction I never bothered to make, or solidify with her being my best friend. No matter what we called each other, we were kin. Kindred, bound for life no matter what was or wans’t shared between us.

Given my..... damage, it’s pretty unlikely that I’ll ever transition past the minor senses I have with my father’s kind. So while we’ll never have the pack link, we never needed it to practically read the others’ mind. Making the guilt lace through and spoil the shivers of that palpable aftermath.

We may be taught that it’s neither common nor uncommon to imagine sex with most every person you look at or meet in Consenting stage, where hormones are not only new, but the highest. Still, It’s AYA for Sages sake! The most non-girl, girl I’ve ever met?

Not even the Burn, can excuse that!

Every mature Fey, Demon, and other blood is subject to breeding cycles. Humans do the same in ovulation to my understanding. Just not on the same level.

The burn is primal. The genetic coding that ensures survival of the species. And while we may be sentient, in the throes of biological urges we can only control where we inevitably release. Not that we have to.

Not want. Need.

Girls and Guys alike are all but crippled for ignoring the build. The need to surge our Mytha and open the channels of our bodies, minds, and essence. We literally get sick without interaction, and it’s not anything anyone past Consent can help.

Still......... I’ve never had sex……..Never even kissed a girl.

How does my brain go from planning three stages ahead to………. That?!

Even with forward motion, my brain feels weighted by the magnetic pull of that culmination, regardless of the distance I’m trying to put between it and myself.

Making it the moment I shatter with the realization that no matter how close Ayame and I are—how much I love her, help raise her, spend every waking moment I can with my best friend—

She isn’t my blood.

Isn’t my kin.

Up to that moment, everything my brain ever pieced together in random ways has some form of precedence. No matter how random or minuscule. Ice cream definitely doesn’t. There’s no source or point of information I wouldn’t remember leading to that.

Believe me, I have enough theoretical scenarios to fill the Hall Aya loses herself in—just not that one. Not visceral. Not palpable. I mean, I know I’m wondering my usual who, what, where, how, why, and when—breaking down the sensations that ice cream subliminally emits—but... Aya...?!

Even now, a generation later, it hits with the same impact it did then. My first real interactive sexual imagining is with my sort-of cousin. Almost brother. Not sister, for Sages’ sake! Something I know couldn’t and wouldn’t happen within a bloodline.

Something about scent or genetic protections to avoid inbreeding and degradation in the lines.

Everything about this walk home feels raw. Wrong. Makes me question every moment I mentally spend on the subject. Especially when, on the long walk home, I all but explode about something as innocuous as ice cream being tied to sex.

“I’ve already explained the Burn to you, son.” Dad lets out a breath with the smoke of his glowwraps while I vent, hopefully at a decibel Aya doesn’t hear when she comes back from the barn.

“No, this isn’t like anything that has happened before.” I gulp, lighting my own, wiping my lips as if there’s still some sort of evidence on them with the way they still hum.

Son or no, Dad is as much Stepan as he is Canoshin.

“Boy.” All the color drains from my face when I realize I’m thinking out loud and damn near out the fact I can’t stomach to him. Dad only calls me ‘boy’ when we’re having—or about to have—a very serious conversation.

In this case, though, I think it’s more him commanding attention to make me feel better rather than letting me keep sliding down the rabbit hole.

“We all get a few practice rounds before the real thing hits. The fact that you still don’t have at least one partner says that hasn’t happened yet. I keep hoping you’ll find someone—anyone, really—to be comfortable with.

Men are simpler and only have one less hole than women. You’ve seen it to know it’s not a bad thing, and actions speak as clearly as words sometimes.” He uses a tone that’s clear and even—neither patronizing nor sympathetic.

It isn’t irritated, like I can’t believe I have to explain this, but it also isn’t that pity tone I get from Mom sometimes about a nice girl or the right girl accepting who I am. She wants grand babies, and while Dad doesn’t care, Mom would be crushed if I fall in love with a man.

I don’t really see that happening. I mean, after three dates I swear I’ll never do it again for anyone but my forever person. It isn’t like I have anything against relationships, but other than the people I’m closest with, I can’t imagine more than five minutes of people’s company—let alone a lifetime of it.

The circle of life and natural order says we’re all supposed to pair off and have kids. Still, finding someone I can deal with—let alone someone who can deal with my crazy ass—doesn’t even scratch the surface of the trust and nature it takes to be a part of the Yuma clan.

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11: Hiro - Yuma Family Secrets