Another BBBH fill. Pure and utter cousin fluff contained within, for a challenge to write a story with absolutely no dialogue. Fun stuff! This is also my first time writing from Nanako's point of view -- so I tried to make the whole thing kinda story-bookish, if that makes sense? Anyway, enough babble, on with the show! Hope it's enjoyable. :D

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He usually comes home while it's still light out. Or, at the very least, just as the sun is setting. And while she prefers having her Big Bro home earlier rather than later, there's something to be said about those sunset arrivals. The door opens and suddenly their house is awash with the reds and golds and purples that come to wish the sun goodnight. Nanako knows that's not really true -- she's learned all about space in school, thank you very much -- but the story is one she is especially fond of. Her father told it to her, back in happier times when stories were a right, not a privilege. But now that he's gone most nights, it's Big Bro who weaves the story for her.

The two had joked about it once. According to her father, his mother had told the story to his sister and he every night until they were old enough to scoff at silly things like colors being able to speak and singing stars. Big Bro had smiled, confirming that his mom had done the same. It had to be explained to Nanako that 'mom', in this case, was her Aunt Seta, but Big Bro had explained it to her with the utmost patience. The conversation evolved into a long talk about cousins and second cousins and the meaning of 'twice-removed'. Even as the discussion moved to mothers, taking on the expected somber tone, Big Bro never stumbled over his words or looked pained. His steadiness almost made the fact that her father had to leave the room not hurt. Almost.

But tonight, Big Bro was nowhere to be found.

Sunset came and went. A soft tapping of rain began on the window pane just as she drew the curtains shut for the night. Then the thunder started, cracking loudly with an echo that fizzled off into nothing but mounting fear for the little girl. She turned up the TV, hoping to mask the sound, but her solution was a short sighted one. With another sharp burst of thunder, every electric appliance in the living room seemed to snap and fade. Even her quiz show disappeared, leaving her to stare at her own reflection in the screen. Nanako was in the dark.

And Big Bro still wasn't there.

Being a young woman of action, it didn't take long for Nanako to get to her feet, dust herself off, and fetch her rain slicker. Big Bro could be lost or hurt, after all. It was up to her to protect him, just as he'd promised to protect her. That was what brother and sister did.

The rain was harsher that she anticipated, accompanied by a strong wind that rendered her umbrella useless as wild gusts joined Nanako beneath it and pulled her this way and that. There was so much noise. Not only the thunder either, though it would still make its presence known by erupting when she least expected. The wind whistling between rain drops, the echoing slap of rain hitting rooftops and pavement in sheets, her own shallow breaths that grew steadily into sniffles. It was almost deafening.

She'd lost her umbrella. While checking along the school route, a particularly nettling squall wrenched the handle from her clasped hands and carried it all the way to the river. The Samegawa was swollen from the storm and caps of white erupted around her brightly colored umbrella as it was carried away from her at alarming speed. She'd started crying then, but with the persistent gush of rain around her it was easy to pretend that she was just cold. The wetness that hit her face and ran down into her slicker was the perfect mask for tears and, when she found Big Bro, she would explain that of course she wasn't crying. She planned what she would say carefully, making sure to end with a sternly worded warning to never get lost again.

But that would have to wait. For now, she was cold and upset and missed her umbrella. The gazebo would have to do until the rain stopped. Or at least until she stopped sniffling.

She waited a long time, tying and untying her water logged laces to pass the time. The gazebo roof leaked and, every so often, a large droplet of water would plop down onto her soaked pigtails. She would move to a new spot each time, but the rain seemed to follow her. Tired and frustrated, she eventually curled up under the bench, sniffling and pulling her slicker up over her. A little pile of yellow, with a pair of drenched, stocking clad legs sticking out. It wasn't warm or comfortable, but at least the rain stopped chasing her.

The next thing she remembered was heavy footfalls on the waterlogged floor of the gazebo. She realized she must have fallen asleep just as her slicker was pulled back from her face. She was instantly greeted with the familiar gray eyes of her Big Bro, only instead of warm and kind they were scared and worried and relieved. Big Bro was the only person she knew with eyes like that. Her father said that's why he was so quiet. He didn't have to talk to say something.

Nanako was about to plunge into her speech about the foolishness of staying out too late and getting lost -- once she could remember it, that is -- but before a single word could leave her lips, Big Bro had pulled her out from under the bench and into his arms. He was shaking. Nanako wondered if he was cold, too.

Big Bro got cold a lot after the delivery man took her to heaven.

It had been months since then, but she could still catch him getting scared from time to time. Their first fight had been a month ago, while she was out with Meihi-chan and Yo-chan. Big Bro had come running up, breathless and shivering, demanding to know where she'd been and why she'd left without so much as leaving a note. Nanako had cried and shouted back at him before running back towards home. She spent the night in her room, refusing to come out even after Big Bro's knocks and quiet apologies were replaced by her father's gruff words of concern. The next morning, she found a homemade bento waiting for her with carefully arranged sushi rolls and rice balls spelling out "I'm Sorry" inside. All was forgiven shortly after that.

But now, neither of them were yelling or even saying 'I'm sorry'. Big Bro was holding her close, breathing heavily as those persistent leaks in the roof plopped on both their heads. It was now that Nanako realized her Big Bro didn't even have a slicker on. His long hair hung in front of his eyes like a thick curtain and her own drying clothes were promptly made wet again as he hugged her. If Nanako had been less dazed over suddenly being woken up and swept into an embrace, she might have complained, but as it was she was content to simply allow him to hold her. Even if he was all wet, Big Bro was warmer and softer than a damp spot under a bench.

As he carried her back home, neither of them bothered to ask where the other had been or why. The best time for those kind of questions was morning, over coffee and toast, Nanako told herself in a way that she felt was very grown up. Big Bro seemed to have the same idea, rubbing her back softly through the coat he had draped over her shoulders as an added shield from the rain. His own white button down was soaked through, plastered close to his body. It reminded her of summer, when Chie-chan had accidentally soaked her Big Bro with the garden hose. Yosuke-nii got very red in the face while Rise-chan leaned down and winked as she told her Nanako was swimming in a good gene pool. The little girl didn't know what that meant, explaining to Rise that they didn't have a pool. The idol had only laughed in her pleasant, tinkling way before moving off to 'help' Big Bro dry off.

Lost in memories of summer, it was a while before Nanako realized her Big Bro was humming. It was a familiar tune -- another artifact from their parents' childhoods -- that they would sing sometimes before bedtime. Well, Nanako would sing. Occasionally she could coax Big Bro into joining her, but never without a soft blush starting on his cheeks. Even big brothers were shy about some things, she told herself. Rise-chan said that a lot, too.

Still, here he was, humming softly to her as they rounded the corner off the flood plain road. She nestled her face against his neck, taking comfort in the rumble of his throat. His voice was deep and warm, albeit a little flat, and sounded nothing like when he spoke. Big Bro always sounded sure. Always sounded strong. But now, while he was humming, there was a vulnerability she hardly ever got to see.

Resting her head against his shoulder, rocked by the gentle rhythm of his long strides, she wondered if he would answer if she asked him what was wrong.

She was fast asleep before she got the chance.