Osomatsu was not surprised when the others found them. He had become careless.
Those first few months, they had been running from something real. Something they could still feel nipping at their heels, breathing warmly against the back of their necks. A constant threat that hounded them everywhere, a stray through that popped up every time their heartbeat slowed.
"What if they find us?" Kara had asked the third day, voice titled low - like he didn't really care either way. They were sitting in a train going so fast the landscape blurred into monotonous green colors out the window, hoping nobody would notice they hadn't bought a ticket.
"I don't know," Osomatsu answered truthfully. They were eating stale sandwiches they stole from a convenience store the day before, getting crumbs all over themselves. "Maybe they don't care."
Karamatsu shrugged but didn't try to disagree.
By nightfall that day, they were in a different prefecture altogether. Finding shelter was easy - so long as you weren't picky. And after sleeping on that too small futon for all their lives, neither of them had many complaints. They paid for food and things with cash, money they had saved up here and there over the years. Anything they couldn't afford, they would steal. Anything they could get away with grabbing unnoticed, they would steal. Anything they wanted, they would steal.
Cigarettes were the hardest to get. They were often locked away in cases or held behind counters under the watchful eye of the staff. Karamatsu would put all those drama classes to good use, serving as a distraction while Osomatsu nabbed things. Even if that meant breaking the glass casing with his bare hands. That first time Kara had to pull out the glass pieces stuck in Osomatsu's skin, wrap the bleeding with a kitchen towel they had taken when they left home.
"No more cigarettes," Kara had said, firm and concerned and Osomatsu had laughed because this is what they did it for. This is why it was worth it in the end.
"I'll try to cut back."
Neither of them had a cellphone, neither of them had a credit card. They didn't do anything that would require them to use their IDs, anything that would get them tracked. They never saw any posters or news broadcasts, proof people were looking for them.
Either their family never bothered to file a missing person report or their constant moving from city to city meant they simply outran the consequences of their actions. Osomatsu chose to believe in the former, but maybe because the other option was too painful to think about.
Maybe they just needed to believe nobody wanted to find them.
But clearly that hadn't been true, and they had gotten careless.
It was spring, turning into summer and in a few weeks, they would have been gone for four years. Four years of not seeing the others. And now they lingered at places they liked, and weren't as careful about remaining unseen. And now Kara played his guitar on the street sometimes for money and Osomatsu did the things he did best, which were much less savory and just as illegal.
And now they were careless.
Their brothers still looked the same. It hit Osomatsu with a sudden urgency, and uncomfortable nausea, even if he couldn't say why. It had been four years and while they had been running it felt normal for them not to age. For them to outpace time like they did everything else. But he had expected the others to be unrecognizable - warped by their absence.
They looked the same, just more worried and tired.
"Osomatsu-nii-san."
And hearing that name kind of broke him, almost making it too hard to remember why they had done it in the first place.
---
"We're going to die in this town."
It was not a question, not an ultimatum. It was a statement, an observation you make in the same way you might note the weather or the change of seasons.
"We're going to die in this town," Osomatsu repeated, and exhaled stray cigarette smoke into the air, watching it dissipate. "Sooner or later."
The city skyline was blurred. Maybe he couldn't tell how late it was - how early. But the clouds were obscuring the stars and their brothers were sleeping and that meant it probably was the perfect time for this.
The only time.
"Cynic." Karamatsu laughed it off the way he always did when they were alone, just the two of them against the world. The others would not understand, but they were the oldest, and that just meant something different to them.
"I'm sure of it," Osomatsu insisted, pressing the stub of the cigarette into the sole of his shoe, and throwing it off the roof onto the street below. "Unless we do something about it I guess."
"What do you wanna do?"
Osomatsu glanced at Karamatsu's face, at the slightly furrowed brow. He bit his lip. "We could leave?"
"Aniki, you're terrible," Karamatsu started and Osomatsu knew. He knew this was a bad idea but he could see how much they both wanted it.
But it was such a bad idea.
"But?"
Karamatsu sighed. "But we could."
"Then let's do it. Let's just leave."
The furrowed brow was back with a vengeance. "What about the others?"
"They'll be fine. Heck, they'll be better off without us even. Kara, come on, you know we need this."
They needed this more than words could express.
So after a few days of planning, making sure they had what they needed, they left. They brought the money, they brought some food and blankets and clothes. Karamatsu brought his guitar and Osomatsu brought his knife. They had everything they needed.
And they ran.
---
"After all this time, after all these years, here I thought that you were out there somewhere, hoping to come home," Choromatsu said. He was the first to find the words, but he didn't sound like himself. He didn't sound disappointed. He sounded beyond that, beyond anything Osomatsu had ever heard him sound like. "But here you are, running away, cowering from even the thought of it."
There wasn't anything much he could answer. Nothing that wouldn't sound like a lie at least. We really wanted to come back? We tried to get home? We aren't running?
We missed you.
Lies, all of them.
"How did you find us?" he asked instead. They had been careless.
"Why the fuck do you care!" Ichimatsu spat, all sharp edges and barely contained anger. Osomatsu had never seen him so pissed before either.
(Maybe he was wrong. Maybe time did change them.)
"Nii-san..." Todomatsu hesitated, eyes wide, searching his face. He had dark circles attesting to sleepless nights and was so much paler than Osomatsu had ever seen him before. "Please come home, Please-"
Osomatsu thought it would spark at least some guilt, seeing his brothers like this. Some regret over what they had done.
The only thing he regretted was being careless.
"I can't," he said, took a step back for good measure, and at that moment realized there was no going back if he left again now. If he kept retreating there would be an invisible wall between them forever, something he could never come back from. He was breaking something permanent. "We can't."
"We never stopped searching, Osomatsu. Do you get that?" Ichimatsu said. "Do you even get how fucking scared we were? We thought you guys were dead."
"I'm sorry."
More lies.
Jyushimatsu opened his mouth and in that instance, Osomatsu turned on his heels and bolted.
He ignored them calling after him, panic-laced voices. He ignored the rattling of his lungs, the breathlessness. He ignored the stabs of sharp aches in his side, the taste of blood on his tongue, and his heartbeat painful. He ignored all of it until he hit a highway, and hid under an overpass, palms slick with sweat pressed against the rough-cut stone.
He waited for over an hour and wiped his tears away with the sleeves of his bloodstained hoodie.
---
He met up with Karamatsu later that night, in the motel room they shared. On the way back Osomatsu had been extra careful not to be followed. But he was pretty sure coincidences did not befall the unlucky twice.
They ate packets of ramen, hard and flavorless because the kettle didn't function like it should, while they watched mindless tv shows they would never watch at home.
"I miss mom's cooking," Karamatsu said, like he sometimes did, suddenly, unbidden. Osomatsu normally ignored him, so he didn't expect an answer. "Sometimes, I mean. Sometimes I miss it."
He laid down on the blanket, turned over onto his side, and Osomatsu watched him, silently.
Karamatsu closed his eyes. "Sometimes I miss them."
"I think we should skip town tomorrow. Go somewhere else."
Opening his eyes again, Karamatsu looked at him, slow blinks - like maybe he was half asleep. "Sure."
And wherever they went, Osomatsu knew they would be more careful.