#idk what else to tag this brother. happy bday to my best boy <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[mishkakagehishka]

Growing Up, part 1: Forgotten

Pretend like I finished this Mika birthday fic in time for his actual birthday, love and peace Directory

Fandom: Ensemble Stars!! Concept: an exploration of Mika's past and his growing inner psychology as presented through the celebrations of his 15th, 16th and 18th birthday (or, during his final year before Yumenosaki, first year in Yumenosaki/pre-War era, and 3rd year in Yumenosaki/!!time as calculated by the person who almost failed maths in years 11 and 12) Word count for this chapter: 1843 Summary for this chapter: December is always busy. Some things are just bound to end up forgotten in the midst of all the work needed for a child to survive, to help other children survive.

Warnings for this chapter: implied child neglect, implied exploitation of child labour, Mika doesn't eat, in general this one is angst-focused

It seemed like the work was never-ending. It always was like that around this time, late December. Preparations for the New Year's. Comforting those who still haven't made peace with having no family to greet the new year with. Of course, it all fell on Mika. Not like he minded; by then he had lost all hope- no, he didn't even want to be adopted anymore. What could something like a family possibly give him? It would be just giving the universe another chance to show him that he was unwanted, incapable of being loved by anyone. It was just handing someone else the chance to throw him away on a silver platter. He had no need for it.

Besides, Mika was like… an older brother to the other kids. He couldn't abandon them like that. They rely on him, they need him, they are his family. If he were to leave, what would happen to them? They all depend on him, the money he earns feeds them, the rags he mended clothe them. If he were to be adopted, it would be no different to abandoning them. He would be no different to all the other adults who had already given up on those innocent kids. They were his responsibility now. If it weren’t for Mika, those kids would be left to fend for themselves, with nobody caring whether they lived or died. Rather, he’s certain many would prefer those kids like them – like him – gone.

Those are the thoughts that ran through his head as he washed dish after dish. The soap irritated his hands, but callouses had long already formed, his hands toughened, he paid discomfort no mind. Part-time jobs were hard enough to come by, for a 14-year-old. Mika took what he was given. He had to. He was paid under the table - peanuts at that. But every little bit counted.

Every little bit counted, he repeated to himself, scrubbing, and scrubbing and scrubbing, until his vision blurred, until his eyes started stinging. The soap, probably, must have gotten in his eyes when he was moving a strand of hair that obstructed his vision. He sucked in some air. Held his breath. Breathed out. A practiced action, to steel his nerves. To calm his thoughts. And he continued working, because even those peanuts had to be earned. He who does not work, does not eat. He who does not work, will have to watch his lil’ siblings cry from hunger pains.

He spent all day on his feet. He always did. From the morning - helping the younger kids get dressed and ready. Feeding the youngest ones. Crying alongside the tot who refused to eat because of his fever. He'd have to buy medicine, too. But where would he get the money? His part-time jobs barely cover his bus fare and… food. A sigh. To Mika, the choice was obvious, and the decision was made in moments. Because he's a big boy already, he doesn't need it as much as the little ones do. He's in charge of them. He's their protector, their caretaker, the one who will never abandon them like the adults have. Their Big Brother Mika. Though his stomach grumbled in protest at the very thought, he knew it was the responsible thing to do, the right thing to do.

Running around from that morning, helping slower kids clean up, before hurriedly running out without lunch - to his part-time job. The first lined up in that day. Though his stomach growled embarrassingly, he kept his gaze to the floor, hoping nobody would mind him. Nobody would notice him. Thankfully, the older employees ("older" being the high school part-timers) shared their lunch with him. And although he didn't want to accept, his hunger was far too obvious, and they insisted. And he was embarrassed by how eagerly he ate those little candies, nearly tearing the wrappers apart. Yet even eating those small candies, drooling over them like a dog and eyes glowing from joy, he had to excuse it to himself. It’s fine if he eats, he would be of no use passed out. Mika had to make excuses for himself, because a part of him would always nag – you could have given those candies to little Mei who has been crying for three days straight now or to little Aoi who had only just arrived and was still in shock. But he promised himself: when he makes it big, when he becomes an idol like those he saw on TV, like those two he adored so much, he’ll buy those little kids candy by the truckload.

He’ll make it all up to them.

The second job, that evening, wasn’t really a job. Perhaps more like thrifting. Dumpster diving. His favourite. It was a way to save up. He could find many clothes that were still perfectly wearable, with minor alterations, and various trinkets he could DIY into cute decorative objects he could sell to people on the street. Although as he’s gotten older, people are becoming less likely to open their wallets for him. But he would rather beg and plead on the street than make one of the younger kids stand in the cold, at the mercy of strangers.

Regardless, there are always so many things to be found in the dumpsters, that Mika always looked forward to it.

All sorts of things get thrown away. After a hard day of work, Mika allows himself dig through the garbage dump itself. So many wonderful things get thrown away because they were a little odd-looking or a somewhat broken. As if it negated their worth. But Mika knew better. He could always see the hidden gems, the beauty that only lay dormant beneath the eyes that were hanging by a loose thread, torn fabric and stuffing that peeked out. Beneath the tears and the dirt, he knew. All it would take is a little care, a little love. And he could provide that love. For the abandoned toys, he could be their saviour. The one to clean up the grime and sew up the wounds, to hold and cradle and whisper, "It's going to be alright, you'll never be thrown away again."

He scrubbed the dishes harder. He still had to earn that money. The little one's fever isn't going down and he refuses to eat. Mika was gone; he doesn't know if they got him to eat after breakfast. It was up to him, as it always was, to make up for the neglect they must have suffered when he returns for dinner. If he manages to return in time for dinner. But the siren call of an extra 300 yen if he stayed late was hard to resist.

Every little bit counts.

"I'm home," he whispered, to nobody in particular. It was well past midnight. The kids would be asleep, he hoped. So, with the little bag from the pharmacy in one hand, and his patchwork backpack slung over his shoulder, Mika tiptoed upstairs, to the dorms. Fumbling with the doorknob, he carefully leaned a hand on the door, pushing it open slowly enough to avoid creaking. In an effort to make as little sound as possible. But instead of to a quiet dorm filled only with the sounds of sleeping children, Mika opened the door to a room full of children who looked as they were wide awake. Who were wide awake. And suddenly all eyes were on him, who stood there like a deer caught in headlights, frozen in place.

"Big Brother Mika!" It took only seconds for him to be surrounded. He tried to shush them, but what's a tween to a bunch of lively ankle biters? "Where were you all day?!" they were angry. The little ones, all with puffed up cheeks, a few with arms crossed, a few pulling at his clothes to bring him inside, one even (attempting to, with most of the strength present in her tiny fists) trying to hit him. They pulled him towards his bed, where he could see papers and a small box.

"You missed it! You made us miss it, too! Meanie!" and such similar accusations flew. "Wha- what? What did I miss? 'M sorry, was it somethin' important? I was caught up in work, but I'll make it up to y'all, I pro-" "Your birthday, dummy!"

Mika paused.

His birthday. Was that that day? The day before? He once more looked at his bed.

Covered in sweat from the day's work, the filth and stink of rubbish clinging to him, he felt out of place. The papers were handmade cards, with misspelled words and barely legible simple lettering. The box must have been a gift. Did they spend money on him? They couldn't have. "You- you lot shouldn't be so irresponsible, I told'ja to save up yer pocket money… Why would'ja…" He couldn't cry in front of them. He knew he had to always be strong for them, he couldn't cry, even when his voice caught in his throat, even when his eyes started feeling damp.

And Mika stood there, hands covering his face as he sobbed, shaking with each wail. He wasn't sad, far from it. But his heart clenched, and his stomach churned, and he felt like he was about to be nauseous. He'd forgotten his own birthday, so preoccupied with working to survive, to make sure his kiddos survive. He's disappointed those same kiddos, who just wanted to celebrate with him. But instead of the anger growing, they urged him to open the box at least. Instead of hating him for not allowing them the satisfaction of a joint celebration, they asked him to watch the DVD with them all, on the tiny portable TV. Instead of hating him for the stupid mistake he had made, they easily leaned into his embrace, allowing him to hug them, hugging him back, as he continued crying and calling them such good kids, his sweet lil’ angels.

Of course, he sent off the youngest ones to bed, given it was well after one in the morning, promising to rewatch the DVD with them twice the next day. And with the rest, huddled together, they watched the newest Yumenosaki first years performing. The up-and-coming Valkyrie. With most of the kids having fallen asleep about half an hour in, it was really just Mika watching.

Mika, who vowed to himself, that he'd get into Yumenosaki, too. That he'd stand on a stage just like those two, that he'd show everyone… that he'd show these kids he's in charge of - his kids - that they can make it out of this place. He would be their example. Their lighthouse. But for now, he'll continue tucking them in, reading them bedtime stories, dressing them in the mornings, buying them clothes, food, medicine, caring for them. Working three jobs in one day. Loving them in place of the family, adults who abandoned them. Just as he wished someone would have done for him.