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Tsumiki bought the tests after school by herself – cheap white sticks packaged in a pink box with small text on the back. One line, two lines. Three minutes to wait.
They’re for my mother , she said.
The clerk handed her change in the cradle of a receipt, coins that slipped around loose at the bottom of her school bag. Good luck.
Tsumiki crossed her fingers, blinking out a laugh around one of her cavities, the silver caping resting under her tongue. She had sore gums, skipping out on her afterschool chocolate croissant for a tuna sandwich set instead, the white bread speckled with mayo and curry flakes.
She’d been eating it every day, Toji poking her in the gut after Wednesday dinner – a family chicken bucket, Tsumiki eating the piquant skin off a breast, pinching off seasoned breading to dip between her fingers. Dijon mustard. Plain ketchup for Toji on his dinner tray, taking bites out of the center, rolling a wing in his mouth – Megumi eating a plain leg while the TV ran, a cup of room-temperature water beside his meal.
Tsumiki got up to clean their plates, her stomach peeking out from under her pajamas.
Toji hummed, spreading his legs to reach her. You having a growth spurt, kid?
She had a feeling she wasn’t.
It was getting harder to zip up her school skirts – impossible to tuck her shirts, a uniform violation resting at the bottom of her bag with her sandwich receipts, the flattened box of pregnancy tests.
The sticks were wrapped in her gym clothes, tucked in a spare pair of socks.
She waited until after Megumi got out of the bathroom, kissed her quickly in the hallway. Toji was already an hour into sleep, and though he moved in absolute and almighty silence, Megumi wasn’t a chance-taker. Tsumiki lined the tests up on the counter, the first held between her legs while she pissed.
She took the second while the first dried out in the sink basin, ringed with brown around the drain – Toji didn’t clean like her mother did and Tsumiki didn’t want to lug a gallon of bleach home with her. Megumi didn’t seem to mind, either, possibly conditioned to this living or fine with a certain level of disorder.
There could be a false positive. Too much protein in her urine, passing that spare Xanax she took last weekend from her girlfriend. Tsumiki had heard about the lines coming out wrong before from a soap opera if the stick got too wet, one her mom kept running on the TV during the summer.
Pregnant . Pregnant .
She already knew, really. She’d been puking before first period for a month straight.
Tsumiki went into her parent’s room – it didn’t smell like her mother’s perfume anymore, not after a week of her being absent. Her bras were kicked under the bed, along with scruffed shoes, her knockoff purses. Toji was dead on the mattress, snoring on his face.
“Toji.”
He kept making steady noise, his back hunched over a pillow, skin cresting gold in the low light. He took up over half the bed, his lungs lifting with each repetition.
“Toji.” She said it louder, stepping closer.
She should have thrown the tests in the sink away. If Megumi woke up, he’d see. He’d panic.
Toji’s snoring stopped – sniffing as he sat up, briefs riding up his ass.
It took him a second to see it was Tsumiki, blinking. Choosing to be nice. She knew what happened when Megumi was the one to wake him up. “What?”
“I’m pregnant.”
It shouldn’t have been a surprise. Her tits had been getting darker, little prints on the inside of her white sports bras. Tinting the insides with clear milk stains, her stomach starting to bump.
Toji grunted out something under his breath, flipping over onto his side. Rubbed his face with the flat of his hand until his nose cleared up. “Get in bed.”
He didn’t seem too mad at it. Tsumiki sidled up next to him, the fan overhead crossing its pull-chains in little metal twines.
Toji had a hand on her ass before she was even settled, slipping under her panties. They were digging into her hips, the elastic pulled to a fade. She felt a finger press into her cunt, tapping – his other hand wrapped around her middle, cupping her front, the pout in her stomach bigger when lying down. Spooned.
“You wanna keep it?”
Tsumiki nodded. She was worried about Toji rounding on her. Hitting her. Punch in the centerfold.
Toji breathed out his nose. “Yeah, fine. They’re pretty cheap.”
That was settled. Tsumiki breathed out – letting Toji hold her, a hand moving from her gut to behind her back, Toji’s forehead knocking into her hind-skull.
He pulled his dick out.
“Toji,” Tsumiki put a hand over his. He was already pulling down her panties, the fabric roping down her skin. “The baby.”
“Come on,” Toji wedged a finger back between her legs, a wet test. She was; not that she could help it. “It’s mine.”
Tsumiki was quiet.
Toji almost had his dick in her before he realized her silence, the catching breath. He stopped, grabbing a fist of her hair, her head hitting a metal spring in the mattress. “You weren’t fucking those boys anymore.”
Tsumiki shook her head, feeling her scalp stretch. “No.”
She hadn’t, not since Toji moved in, beat it out of her.
Another rattle in the head. Her ear hurt, an earring-stud backing bent into thin skin. “Then it’s mine?”
Tsumiki couldn’t breathe.
“ What ?”
Her voice was a whisper. “Or Megumi.”
Toji let go. She could feel where his knuckles had dented her neck. “The fuck.”
Tsumiki caved for him. Megumi’s droopy mouth. Megumi, who came when she touched his balls, when she opened her cunt for him to look at. He’d stare at her pussy until he remembered to be embarrassed, looking back up at her face. She’d leave her bras out when she showered, coming back into her room to find him keeping them warm, his hands in the cups.
Tsumiki let him stick his dick inside long enough to cum, her brother’s legs bent with her own. Knees knocking.
It wasn’t sex. That’s what Toji wouldn’t understand.
Toji was still behind her, above her. “So who knocked you up?”
“I don’t know.”
He sighed, Tsumiki flinching as he spread her legs, fumbled until his dick caught against her hole. He wedged himself in – he was too hard to bend, Tsumiki holding in a yelp when he tried fucking into one of her walls, missing her cunt’s pit completely.
“Toji–”
“Shh,” Toji had a leg thrown over her, pinning her down on her side. He was rocking her up the bed, Tsumiki feeling her head skim the wall. “You better get used to being quiet.”
She held her breath.
Tsumiki wondered if Toji cared if it was a boy or a girl — she wondered if he could even make girls, being the way he was with them.
She felt a jab in her gut — probably Toji messing with a swollen organ, his dick skimming her womb. It never hurt with Megumi, just little pets that had her cleaning out her cunt once he was finished, some of his cum dripping onto her foot-top.
Toji made her cramp. Toji fucked because they were having sex — it wasn’t something nice she did for him.
He was getting close – Tsumiki could tell, hearing Toji swallow every couple of seconds, his heart in his throat. Panting. “Really, kid. Is it mine or Megumi’s?”
Tsumiki looked back. “ Toji . I don’t know.”
“What do you mean?” Toji reached down, holding her feet together by the ankles, both of them knocking like bells. “You can’t tell?”
Tsumiki shook her head.
“Well it’s gonna be pretty fucking hard to tell, kid.” Toji didn’t stop pushing in, breathless. “When it comes out.”
He was right. The baby was going to have dark hair – probably green eyes, hazel. Something pretty.
It reminded her of something her mother said to Toji while drunk, her folded up in his lap: You must make pretty babies .
It hurt Tsumiki’s stomach thinking about it. Toji hardly touched her mother – got her drunk and tired, knocked on Tsumiki’s door with a smile after dumping her in their bed.
Hey kid. He leaned in while talking to her, down. Let me in .
Tsumiki didn’t worry about condoms. She worried if Toji was going to fit or not, if he’d be happy cumming in her just once, or if he’d stay hard for a second, a third time. Sometimes he fell asleep inside her, Tsumiki having to pee, too scared to get up.
Toji grunted, Tsumiki crossing her legs as he fucked her, making it harder for him to pull out. It was how he liked her best; Toji throwing his weight on her, Tsumiki holding her stomach, praying as much as she knew how.
Keep the baby safe. Keep Megumi safe.
It came to Tsumiki before she could stop herself: Keep Toji safe.
He spoke into her ear at the same time: “I know it’s mine. Wouldn’t be that big already if it was the runt’s.”
Tsumiki nodded. “Yours.”
“Damn straight.”
It was enough for him to cum — Toji hanging himself over Tsumiki’s side, his legs jumping as he finished in her. He got twitchy the same way Megumi did — toes popping, shaking from his balls up.
Tsumiki knew she’d wake up in his bed, probably late for school, Megumi knowing not to come into the bedroom. Toji would walk her, stop by the front office to sign a note of absence.
He’d wave before he left. He’d probably even carry her bag, fish the loose change out of the bottom at a crosswalk and pocket it.
She thought about all the ways Toji was a good dad. All the ways he wasn’t.
Mostly, she thought about what Megumi’s mother looked like.