My Long-Lost Brother has Returned.

I'm so stunned, I can barely utter a single word.

I never thought I'd see my brother again. I don't think any of us did. But here he is, right in front of me, with that same enigmatic half-smile where you can't tell what exactly he's thinking.

"Shun?" His smile disappears, replaced with a slight look of worry. "You okay? I thought you'd be happier to see me."

I try to search for the words I've wanted to say to him for years, but it's useless. It's like my throat is frozen solid.

I don't know how to answer him. I don't know if I'm happy to see him, or upset, or confused, or what. I can't tell what this feeling is. There's so much I want to tell him, and so much I want to ask him, but I can't get anything out.

It was eight years ago when my brother disappeared.

I was ten and just starting fifth grade in Kagoshima. By that time, I'd already been doing karate for a few years. It wasn't like I had much of a choice, growing up in the family that I did. I was learning how to chop and kick almost as soon as I could walk. But no matter how hard I trained, how far ahead of the rest of my peers I was, it was never good enough for my father. Even when I made it all the way to the finals of the elementary school individual prefectural tournament in sixth grade, Dad was more disappointed that I lost than proud of me for making it that far in my first competitive tournament. When I, at only ten and a half, sparred a guy a few years older and a lot bigger than me and took him down, my father's only reaction was to tell me that my footwork was sloppy.

Once I got older, I realized Dad really was proud of me, but went hard on me because he knew I could be better. But I didn't understand those things back then. I was a child who wanted to please him and felt like nothing I did could earn his respect. I just wanted Dad to say I did well, and he never did, because I wasn't Katsumi.

Out of everyone in the dojo, Katsumi was different. "Prodigy" didn't begin to describe him. Maybe "genius" wasn't even the right term. To me, when I saw him train or fight, it was like I was watching an angel. He was average-sized and had a slight frame, but he could knock much bigger opponents out and it would look like he wasn't even trying. He would effortlessly dodge every single attack from my father's adult students with many more years of experience with him for minutes on end. Dad would try so hard to find something about my brother's training to nitpick, but he couldn't say a word to Katsumi because his form was perfect.

When I had entered my first competitive tournament in elementary school, Katsumi had already made the Interhigh for the second time. I remember watching from the stands in awe as he quickly put opponent after opponent away, all the way to the semifinal where he and his opponent bounced around for minutes, sizing each other up like a chess match, up until the other karateka went for a jab and grazed my brother. That was the only strike that landed. The match ended in a time out, and the other guy advanced with a half point. Katsumi placed third overall. It was the first and only time I'd ever seen my brother make a mistake. Even then, he wasn't knocked down and his opponent didn't take an ippon off him, much less two.

My brother was a celebrity. We had people from TV coming to our dojo, guys in nice suits who I later realized were executives trying to scout Katsumi for their corporate teams straight out of high school, even coaches from the national team showing up. The local news was talking about him as someone who would be one of our future Olympians. He even made it into a martial arts magazine. I was a background character in his story. I was his little brother who was shown exactly once on that TV segment that the local station did on him. At school, my friends would always talk about how cool he was and how jealous of me they were that he was my brother and not theirs.

I wanted to be Katsumi so badly. No, it was more than that. I wanted to be better than Katsumi. I wanted to be someone so talented that there was nothing that my father could find to criticize about me.

I envied my brother, but at the same time, I admired him. My father would never praise me, but Katsumi was the opposite. As soon as he got back from late nights practicing at school, I'd run up to him and tell him about all about my training and everything I did, or I'd show him, and he'd tell me it looked great and pat me on the head. When Dad would be frustrated that I lost in my tournament, Katsumi would tell me that I was awesome for getting a silver medal. I'd pester him to train with me on the weekends and even though his skill level was so far above mine that I was only dragging him down, he'd do it with a smile and encouraging words. I'd tell him that I would beat him one day, and he'd laugh and say that maybe I'd have a chance once I got older. He'd even take me fishing or bike riding or just down to the convenience store for popsicles in the summer- any stupid thing that kids like to do, he was okay with it. He had so much attention and pressure on him, and none of it bothered him at all. I dragged him to a summer festival once, just so I could impress my friends, and he was okay with it even though I realize now that he was getting all sorts of unwanted attention, because people knew who he was. But he didn't mind it, because I was happy. He was happy when I was.

He was a perfect older brother, until he wasn't there anymore.

It was seven years ago, but I remember it as clearly as it was yesterday. It was a few weeks after he'd placed third in the individual Interhigh, in the summer. I was super excited because I had just gotten my acceptance letter to Chuufuji Middle School, the same place my brother went. The first thing that was odd is that Katsumi didn't wake me up. Usually, every morning he'd wake me up and tease me a little bit by putting me in a headlock or something. That morning, I thought that I had gotten up earlier than him and I would surprise him, but when I went to his room, it was empty.

When I went downstairs, my parents were both standing around the dining room table, staring at a sheet of paper. Neither of them even noticed me enter the room, but when I asked my father where Katsumi was, he instantly snatched the paper away and told me that he wasn't there. I asked my mother and she gave me a painful, forced smile and said he'd gone out. When I asked what the paper was, my father gruffly told me, "It's nothing for you to worry about."

A whole day passed without any sign of Katsumi, and my burning curiosity about him and the piece of paper grew so strong that I could hardly concentrate on anything else. It was only when I was going back to my room for bed, dejected and frustrated about not finding anything out, that I saw it. On my desk, between the toku figures and toy cars, was a neatly folded piece of paper, reading To Shun on the outside in my brother's neat handwriting. I hesitantly opened it. The stark white sheet was blank except for two lines.

I won't be back for a while. I'm sorry.

Love, Anchan

The days passed, and my brother never returned. My father grew softer. He wouldn't snap at me any longer- as I got older and bigger and stronger, he actually started to tell me that he was proud of my accomplishments. But what I really wanted was for Katsumi to come back. I missed his friendly smile and his cheerful personality. I had finally earned my father's respect, and it didn't make me happy, because my brother wasn't there anymore.

Middle school came and went, and Katsumi never came home. We sold the dojo in Kagoshima and moved in with my grandfather in Chiba, where I had spent many happy summers long ago. My father never told me why we had to move. Maybe it was because once the crown jewel of our school, my brother, was no longer around, no one cared about us anymore.

I became nidan and passed my entrance exams for Shinchoushi without any sign of my brother. The first day I joined the Karate Club, one of the senpai asked me if I was related to Katsumi Takeno. I told him that he was my older brother, and my senpai told me he had always wondered what happened to him. I couldn't give him an answer, because I didn't know either. My father wouldn't tell me, no matter how much I asked.

It was like my brother had fallen off the face of the earth. Curiosity got the best of me last year and I searched his name on Googol on my family's computer when I was supposed to be writing a training plan for the under-6 class. There was almost nothing. Just tournament results and articles from 10 years ago, and a social media post or two wondering what happened to Katsumi. There was a thread on some messageboard where a person claimed to have seen my brother at some club in Tokyo, drunk as a skunk. Then came all the speculation about why he disappeared. Other than rumors, I couldn't find anything. He might have been dead, for all I knew. I wasn't going to ever see him again. I had accepted that.

And seven years later, here he is.

"Shun?" He gives me a concerned glance, once again. Behind him, the small boy clinging onto his pant leg peeks out, staring at me with big, round eyes.

"I-"

Before I can say anything, my father's gravelly voice interrupts me. "So? Ya gonna tell me why ya dragged yer sorry tail back here-"

Then, he's cut off by another voice. "Katsumi?!"

"Hey, Mom. Been a while."

"Katsumi!" My mother blows past both me and Dad, wrapping my brother up in a hug. "Oh, thank goodness!"

Katsumi stands there, calmly accepting all of Mom's affection, while the little boy shrinks back behind my brother.

My father's eyes look like they're going to bug out of their sockets. "Mama, what in tarnation-"

"Oh, hush, Shouichi!" Mom turns around to glare at Dad, with her arms still clamped tightly around my brother. "Katsumi's back home for the first time in years!"

Dad sighs and puts a hand on his forehead. He looks totally and completely lost. I don't blame him.

Finally, Mom seems to get the hint that she's squeezing my brother a bit too tightly and lets go. The same serene smile remains on his face. "I was a little surprised when I saw you'd moved into Grandpa's place," he says, wheeling his suitcase and a smaller one off to the side and craning his neck to look through the open door behind my father and into the quiet dojo. "I thought Dad wouldn't ever leave Kirishima."

"Whose fault do ya think that is, ya lil'-"

Before Dad can finish his angry reply, Mom cuts him off with a glare. "Shouichi, enough!"

Dad just sighs, looks down at the stone floor of the entranceway, and shakes his head.

"You got the place fixed up real nice, though. Sorry about Grandpa, by the way."

"Aw, for cryin' out loud, he ain't dead."

Right on cue, the sound of the shuffling of my grandfather's feet on the wooden floor comes from behind me, and he emerges from the shadows behind my father, slowly moving his wizened body over toward us. He takes a look at my brother, then to my father, and then to my mother, and then to me, and turns back to my father and mumbles something unintelligible.

Dad sighs. "So ya see, my idjit son decided he was gonna waltz in here after eight dadgum years and act like nothing happened-" He stops and gulps as soon as he sees my mother shooting him another angry look.

"Sorry about that," Katsumi laughs in a voice that's far too casual for this situation. "I didn't expect I'd be back so soon, but I'm a little out of money at the moment...you wouldn't mind me staying here until I can get my feet back under me, do you?" He smiles apologetically.

My father's voice roars to life. "Of course not, ya friggin' idjit-"

"Yes, absolutely!" Mom's face lights up. "Take all the time you need!"

"Mariko, fer the lova-"

"Quiet, Shouichi!"

Dad falls silent, totally taken aback.

"Mom, I hate to impose on y'all so much, but you wouldn't mind him staying here for a while, would you?" Katsumi suddenly steps aside to fully expose the little boy with the messy golden hair and murky blue eyes who was cowering behind him.

Mom's reaction comes instantly. "Oh, my goodness! Of course!"

Katsumi leans down, gently patting the little boy on the head, like he used to do to me long ago. "Go on, Souta. Say hi to Grandma and Grandpa."

It takes the boy a second, but he finally sputters out, "My name's Souta. I'm five."

"How precious!" Mom's over the moon, while Dad stands there in shock. "I'm your grandmother! But call me Mariko instead of Grandma. Calling me Grandma makes me feel like an old woman."

The little boy nods politely.

"That man over there is your grandfather."

"Hello," the boy says politely, bowing.

Dad still looks like he's about to blow his top, but can only stammer out, "Nice ta meetcha," to the little kid.

"That's great-grandfather Norimichi back there-"

"Hello..." The boy quickly bows to the old man, who says something completely impossible to understand in return. Grandpa is a master, but communication is not one of his strong suits. If he's not talking to you, you can't understand a word he says.

"And that's your uncle!" She turns toward me, and so does the little boy.

"Hello, Uncle, I'll be in your care," says the boy timidly with another bow.

I don't know what to say or do here, and my family reacting so differently is just making it worse. So all I can do is hesitate a second before quickly replying, "Likewise."

Katsumi laughs melodically. "Shun's a bit too young for you to be calling him that."

"Sorry..." The kid looks away, downcast.

"No, it's fine."

Dad sighs and mutters, "Last thing I need is a friggin' rugrat...I thought I was done with takin' care a' kids when Shunsuke got old enough to wipe his own-"

That obviously wasn't intended for Mom to hear, but she does. "Shouichi! You stop that this instant! Katsumi and little Souta are staying with us for as long as they like, and that's final!"

"Yes, Mama..." Dad looks completely defeated.

"His hair and eyes are so pretty!" Mom bends over to get a closer look at Katsumi's son. It's really, really hard to come to terms with my brother having a kid all of the sudden. Everything's happening too quickly.

"Well, his mom's pretty, too," Katsumi laughs. "He got it from her. She's from Argentina. We met when she was studying abroad."

Grandpa turns to Dad and says something else in a low, unintelligible voice. Dad gulps, looking like he's dreading the reply, but finally asks, "And where exactly did his ma get off ta'?"

Katsumi looks around apologetically. "My girlfriend and I kinda...uhh...separated."

Dad's eyes go wide and he looks like he wants to explode, but Mom glares at him so intensely that he says nothing and just drops his head, resigned. The little boy looks around nervously, sensing the atmosphere.

"Dad, I'm not about to take advantage of y'all," Katsumi says quickly. "I'll help out with whatever you need around here. I just need a little time to get a new job and some savings and then we'll leave."

Grandpa mutters something to Dad, who hangs his head in response. It takes a second before he finally says, resigned, "Fine. Butcha better be pullin' yer weight. I'm 'bout ta work ya like a dog."

"Just like the good old days." Katsumi's smile doesn't change.

"First, yer helpin' Shunsuke with the boys' class, and ya better do EVERYTHING HE SAYS! Got it, ya no-good waste of breath?!"

"Yes."

"Uniforms are where they always been. Get to it, ya idjit. And don't ya dare wipe yer sweaty socks on the dojo floor or I'll whup you good, boy." Dad gestures toward the dark dojo behind him. "I got one helluva headache," he moans, clutching his head while he slowly puts his shoes on. "I gotta go lie down..."

A few seconds after he leaves, Mom turns to Souta. "Come on, Souta-kun, let's go get unpacked. Do you have your bag?"

"Yeah!" The little boy grabs his small red suitcase, decorated with shooting stars, by the handle. For the first time today, he looks relieved.

"Katsumi, I'll take your bag to the guest room, too. I'll cook steak for dinner tonight since it's your favorite!"

"Thanks, Mom." Katsumi gives Mom a friendly nod as she heads off toward the house with his son. After they've gotten out of sight, he starts heading toward the locker room, but before he rounds the corner of the hallway he stops and looks at me.

"I'm looking forward to it, Sensei," he says with the same enigmatic smile before he disappears.