My Nephew is Interested in What I'm Doing.

It's Sunday, but that doesn't mean I still don't have to go to school.

Cram school, that is. Entrance exams are four months away, and I still have no idea what I want to do, or where I want to go.

Todai? Yeah, no way. I don't think that's happening. Sure, I get top 10 on exams sometimes, but do you know how many high schools there are in Japan, and how many top 10 students that makes? They're all aiming for Todai or Kyoudai or Harvard or whatever. I don't really stand a chance. I'm a jock that occasionally does well at math and stuff.

Who am I really doing this for? My own pride?

"I'm home-"

The door to my family's traditional, two-story house creaks open, but no one answers.

It isn't a bad place to live, but it's different from where I grew up in Kagoshima. That was when we were in demand, and everyone wanted to come study under the master of Japan's next great Olympic hopeful. Dad got a local company to construct the old-style home he'd always dreamed of on a large plot of land in the countryside. He was so proud of it. And then everything fell apart.

"Anybody here?" I peek through the foyer into the dining room. The whole place is cluttered. There are stacks of newspapers and other things stuffed into every corner of the room, and a cabinet with Grandma's old china in it- Grandpa never throws anything out.

I round the corner, passing by a sitting room with medals and certificates tacked up on the walls. They're from the seventies, when my dad and my uncles were kids. They grew up here, but I didn't. The house in Kagoshima was tasteful and sparsely decorated. This one has had years of additions tacked onto it, jutting out multiple different ways. Before Grandpa's back got too bad and Grandma passed away, he built new rooms and add-ons himself.

This place is a roof over my head, but it's not my home, if you get what I mean. I loved visiting here as a kid, but I’ve never felt comfortable actually living here.

I shake my head as I continue down one of the corridors that zigzags as it goes from the part of the house built in the fifties to the part built in the seventies. If I don't like it living here...what do you think my dad feels like? He's never gonna come out and say it, but of course he's humiliated. He was the only one who followed my grandfather into the family business, and all my uncles decided they were going to be doctors and accountants instead. But they're doing well for themselves and he had to close his business and move his whole family in with his father at the age of fifty-five.

...All because of Katsumi.

There's a noise coming from way down the hallway, but no sign of Dad, or Mom, or my brother.

As I get closer, a series of flashing lights comes from an open door. Now I'm hearing the sound more clearly. It's a television. I peek around the corner to see the TV, blaring a kids' show as some excitable host overreacts to a raspy-voiced mouse puppet.

"That's right! The answer in English is...'Shoes'!"

"Ehhhh? That's amazing, Nezumi-kun!"

I sigh.

Beneath the TV, a small boy in a red, striped long-sleeved shirt and jeans lies on the floor, resting his hands on his chin as dirty-blond curls fall around his face while he stares at the television, entranced.

Man, it's still hard to get used to my brother having a kid.

Behind me, there's a low, frail mumble, impossible for anyone to make out- except for members of my family.

I turn to see my grandfather, hunched over, bald, bushy eyebrows covering his face...but I still didn't hear him approach. He can sneak up on anyone. In another time, he would have made a master assassin.

"Grandpa?"

He lets out another string of slurred mumbles, nodding his head.

"Oh, Mom and Dad are at the city office with Katsumi. Uh-huh. When did they say they'd be back?"

The reply is another set of mumbles.

"Two? Geez..."

It's already two-thirty in the afternoon and they're nowhere to be found. Grandpa looks at the kid on the floor, looks at me, looks back to the small boy and the television, and then mumbles something.

"Me? Keep an eye on him? I guess so..."

Grandpa nods, mumbles something else, and then shuffles off to go do who knows what.

I shrug my bag off and take a seat cross-legged on the brown shag carpet as the TV continues to blare. The mouse puppet has been on-screen for less than five minutes and he's already getting on my nerves. I can't believe I used to like stuff like this as a kid. I swear the little kid is watching the same TV Grandpa and Grandma had when I was little and visited for the summer, too.

"Souta-kun?" I hesitantly speak up. The boy doesn't budge. He's transfixed by the TV.

...I'm really bored.

I've been sitting here for who knows how long. Probably at least thirty minutes, maybe a whole hour. Still no sign of Dad, or Mom, or Katsumi. Or Grandpa. It seems like they all just disappeared. The TV has switched to Claw Patrol and my little nephew still hasn't budged. It's like he's hypnotized.

...What do little kids even like to do? I have no idea. It’s been a whole decade since I was one.

Forget it. I stand up, slowly stretching. The kid isn't gonna go anywhere. He's basically glued to the carpet. I bet he hasn't even realized I've ever been here to begin with.

My mind is swirling with all sorts of things as I make my way back through the maze-like confines of Grandpa's house and out the front door, walking down the stone path to the family dojo. A long time ago, there were tastefully-arranged flower beds on either side. Now, there's just weeds.

I know I should be studying. Every hour I don't study equals a lost percentile on the exam, or so they say. But I just can't go right back to the books right now. I've already spent half my day at cram school. My mind's on other things. How can you expect me to give everything to practice exams when I'm not even sure why I'm really taking them?

And then there's Katsumi. I never thought I would see him again, and then he comes storming right back into my life like he never left and directing every spotlight on himself without even trying.

The dojo is silent. There's no classes on Sundays.

I know this place like the back of my own hand. I've trained here for years. And I've helped teach, too. Katsumi hasn't. But my mind keeps flashing back to him dropping me straight on my ass right in the middle of this same dojo.

I'm frustrated. I'm frustrated more than you could imagine. I did my part as the dutiful son. I worked hard, respected my seniors, and fulfilled my societal expectations. My brother turned into a bum. And none of that ended up mattering. He still beat me up. He hasn’t trained seriously for years, and he’s still better than me.

...I wanted to beat him. I wanted to make the Interhigh, too, and I didn't. Three years of my life, all for nothing. Me? Shinchoushi's strongest karateka? What a joke. I lost in two seconds in front of every single junior I had...and my parents...and the president. And her sister.

Ever since I was young, martial arts have been my only friend...but we have a toxic relationship. Karate humiliates me, and yet I keep running back for more, like an idiot.

I launch into the Meikyo kata, but slow and smooth. There are no killing blows here or cries of strength. It's more like dancing. I turn, strike with my hand, pull back, whirl again, again, strike, again. I close my eyes, letting my body guide me. I know this by feel. I don't have to think.

All my troubles are being washed away. It's so therapeutic.

It's only when I take my final stance and turn around that I notice the shadowy shape of a little boy peeking from behind the doorway between the entryway and the training floor.

My eyes catch his deep blue ones, and we stare at each other for what feels like an eternity, and then he ducks behind the doorway again.

"Hey, wait!" As if by reflex, I'm rushing toward the entrance. When I poke my head through it, he's curled up in the corner, hugging his legs against his chest.

I don't know what to say to him. He probably thinks I'm scary.

"...Do you want to try?" The words just slip out of my mouth.

I'm expecting him to run away, but instead, he nods slowly. "...Yeah."

That's the first word I think he's ever said to me.

Soft footsteps patter over the tatami floor behind me as I walk back in. As soon as I get to the center, I hesitantly start talking. "Okay, so follow my lead. The very first strike you ever learn in karate is called the choku-zuki. The basic punch."

Souta nods his head. He's staring at me like he was staring at the television.

Maybe he is interested in me after all?

"You draw back like-" As soon as I start going, I can't help myself. I explain the straight punch, and then several other kinds of punches, and the roundhouse kick, and the back elbow, and then I start talking about kata, and form, and etiquette, and everything. I'm in full teacher mode. The kids in the six-and-under class hardly listen to me, but my nephew stands there transfixed, looking at everything I do with wide eyes. It feels good to finally have a little kid who doesn't ignore me for once.

The little boy tries to copy me as best as he can, but his movements are awkward and stiff. Still, it looks like he's concentrating really hard. He's even got the facial expression down.

"So for mae-geri, your right leg will be back a bit farther. You bend down on your knees in the stance." I push down on the boy's shoulders a bit, and instantly he obeys, bending his knees ever so slightly. "Then you want to-"

Suddenly, I'm interrupted by a voice from behind me.

"Would you look at that...he does have my genes after all! Souta, I'm so proud of you!" I recognize my brother's voice, and the obnoxious fake-sniffle he does when he's trying to be funny. "He's growing up so fast..."

"Daddy!" Instantly, the boy's gone. I turn around to see my brother scoop his son up in his arms as he enters the dojo. Just like that, all my anxieties rush right back into my head. Damn it. There's the source of all my worry, right there in the flesh. I haven't even mentioned one of the things that annoys me the most about him right now. It's his fashion sense. He must have taken a liking to some really flashy clothes in Tokyo or Buenos Aires or wherever, because he's wearing them all the time now.

"Did you miss me?" Katsumi coos, swinging the little boy back and forth as he giggles.

"I was fine," Souta replies.

"You didn't cause any trouble for Uncle Shun, right?"

"No! He's really cool!" Souta chirps, still in his father's arms.

"Aww, I think he likes you." Katsumi sets the boy back down on the ground, this time looking right back at me. "Man, sorry to make you and Grandpa look after him, but Dad decided he was gonna drag me down to city hall to do some paperwork and then-" He scratches the back of his head. "We were there all day."

"You should have told me sooner." I can feel a tiny spark of anger welling up inside me. It's just like eight years ago, but on a smaller scale. He disappears without saying a word and then comes back and plays it off like it's nothing. I can never tell what goes on inside his head. “And don’t call me uncle. I’m too young for that.”

"Sorry. Like I said, Dad sprung it on me at the last second-"

"There y'are, ya li'l-" Speak of the devil. Dad's storming through the entranceway as we speak, and he's as red as a tomato. In times like these, I start to worry about his blood pressure. I mean, he's not getting any younger. "I dragged yer sorry butt all the way down ta' the council office to put ya on the home registry and I waited in the darn line for a whole six hours and it turns out YA WERE ON THERE TH' WHOLE DAGNAB TIME! Ya got somethin' ta say for yerself, ya idjit-"

"Sorry, Dad." Katsumi giggles. "Isn't that your own fault, though? I never said I'd been removed from it-"

Now Dad's the color of beets. "I swear, you-"

"Now, now, Shouichi, can we all just stop bickering for a second?" Mom's finally shown up. Here we go again. Do you see why I can't focus on my studies with all this around? "I think Katsumi is right."

All the color suddenly drains out of Dad's face. "Uh...I just remembered I gotta go...uh...put new shingles on the roof or somethin'..." Just like that, he's gone as quickly as he came.

"Sorry, Katsumi," Mom nods quickly. "I have to go get your father. We still haven't done our shopping for the day." She leaves as well, following after my father.

"It's always lively around here, isn't it?" Katsumi chuckles, tousling his son's hair.

No, it's not. It's different, all because of you. "Don't you have to go make yourself useful or something?"

"Aww, Shun, don't be like that." Katsumi puts his hand over his forehead. "And after I went to so much effort to get you something, too..."

"Get me something?"

"This." He takes a small box out of his pocket, holding it up. "It's for you. I convinced Mom and Dad that it was about time."

He reaches the box out toward me. I hesitate for a second. I don't want to be in his debt, but my curiosity is too strong. I hesitantly take it, pulling the top off, and a black screen stares back at me.

"A...smartphone?"

"Yep!" Katsumi beams. "I mean, think about it. What high school senior doesn't have one? Mom and Dad are way too old-fashioned. Think about it. What if you got lost going to school one day? They'd never find you!"

"I actually got on just fine without one..." I stare at the small shape in my hand. It really is mine, I think. I honestly was expecting to never get one until I went off to college. Neither Dad or Mom has one. I didn't mind it much, because I never had a need for it...

But now I have friends I can talk to.

"...Thanks, Katsumi."

I nearly called him Anchan before I caught myself. But I did. We're never going back to that time again.