"I'm not trying to nag, but you need to think about it seriously. If you just join some random company without a plan, you're going to have a bad time."
"Like you'd know. You've never had a bad time. You just trick girls into coming home with you."
That hit a nerve. I surged to my feet, ready to grab him by the collar, but my father stepped between us.
"Can't you two get along for five minutes in front of a guest? You're grown men! And Kosuke! Watch your mouth. I know Keiichi's meddling is annoying, but the way you said that was insulting to Ms. Agnes, too. If you're going to fight, don't drag other people into it!"
I clicked my tongue and glared at Kosuke, but when I looked at Tachyon's face, I felt a wave of nausea. "Sorry," I muttered.
My father watched us for a moment before sighing. "Fine. Here's the order. Kosuke first. Then me. Then Keiichi. And Ms. Agnes last. Any objections?"
No one said a word. Kosuke stood up, grabbed his change of clothes without finishing his dinner, and headed for the bath. The water wasn't even hot yet; he was probably just going to sit in the steam to get away from us. It was a cold night, and the house was freezing away from the kotatsu, but my father didn't stop him. Instead, he looked at Tachyon.
"Sorry about that, Ms. Agnes. They're still just kids."
"No... I suppose this is just how brothers are," she replied. "I only have a sister—one much younger than me—so I've never experienced this dynamic."
"Oh? How much younger?"
"Ten years. She's in her first year of primary school."
"I see," my father said, though he didn't follow up. He went back to his meal.
I stared blankly at the TV for a while until Tachyon tapped my shoulder. I flinched, looking at her with wide, startled eyes.
"S-Sorry," I said again.
"There is no need for you to apologize to me," Tachyon said softly. "His comment was boorish—to both of us. Your anger was justified. It was an attack on your dignity. However... you were overstepping. You touched a nerve regarding his future, and you shouldn't lecture young people on things they are already stressed about. Life is long, Trainer. People learn and grow at their own pace."
Being lectured by Tachyon was irritating, but the irritation was small compared to the heavy guilt sitting in my chest. She kept going, telling me not to get so angry and that "conflict only hurts the self." I knew she was worried. I knew my outburst had made her anxious. But eventually, I just said, "I get it. Just eat your dinner."
Tachyon went back to her food.
By the time Kosuke finished his bath and came back, he seemed to have cooled off, but the moment he saw me, his expression soured. Tachyon was the only one who caught the flicker of resentment.
"Dad, bath's ready," Kosuke said brightly, but as he slid back into the kotatsu, he took the seat furthest from me and kept his eyes glued to the TV.
I didn't look at him either. If anything, I was still angrier than he was. I ignored him so hard it was physically exhausting.
I finally realized Tachyon was talking to me. I snapped out of it, realizing how childish I was being. I need to cool my head, I thought. I forced myself to focus on Tachyon. She was talking about things she saw on the news, and I listened with everything I had. Kosuke snorted once, but I pretended not to hear it.
Tachyon knew the air was explosive. She kept talking, jumping from topic to topic to keep me distracted. Eventually, it was her turn for the bath. As she soaked in the tub, she realized she was exhausted in a way she hadn't expected. Playing mediator for two bickering brothers wasn't in the job description.
I'll have to make my Trainer pay for this, she thought. Between the unfamiliar house and the family drama, she was reaching her limit. Just then, she heard someone—either me or Kosuke—using the toilet in the dressing room just outside the bath. She tensed up, the mood ruined. She sank deeper into the water, waited for the footsteps to fade, and then climbed out.
The night felt endless. This was a family of few words, and with the TV off, the only sounds were breathing, the clicking of buttons on a controller, and the rustle of clothes. My father eventually spoke up.
"Listen up. We have a problem."
We all looked up.
"A crisis," he continued solemnly. "We only have three futons. Thoughts?"