Evening, at home.
Gojo Satoru lounged leisurely on the sofa, scrolling through short videos on his phone. The television in the living room was playing a drama, though he wasn't watching it.
For him, the TV wasn't about watching—it was about having background noise. Without it, something always felt off.
"Onii-chan!"
From the bathroom, where she was taking a bath, came the voice of his little sister, Umaru.
"What's up?"
Gojo replied without lifting his head, his attention still fixed on his phone.
"Can you grab me a clean towel? I accidentally got the one in here wet. It's in the first drawer of my closet. Just open it, and you'll see."
"Yeah, yeah, got it."
Reluctantly setting his phone down, Gojo walked to Umaru's room at an unhurried pace.
Opening the closet as instructed, he found more than just towels. Mixed in among them was something… personal.
Unlike how most guys might react, Gojo picked up the item like a pervert, rubbing his chin and examining it closely.
"Hmm~ looks like our little Umaru-chan is growing up. This style's a bit bold, isn't it?"
After a thorough ten-second analysis, he put it back in place, grabbed a fresh towel, and headed to the bathroom.
Knock, knock, knock—
He knocked on the bathroom door.
Click—
The door handle turned slightly, and the door cracked open just enough for a delicate, pale arm to extend out. The faint scent of shower gel wafted through the gap.
"Give it to me, Onii-chan."
"Here you go."
Gojo handed over the towel but couldn't resist throwing in some unsolicited advice.
"Umaru-chan, I'm telling you, it's fine to grow up, but you shouldn't buy anything too bold. The boys out there are all amoebas—perverts, even. Be careful not to get tricked."
At these words, the hand reaching for the towel froze mid-air.
The air around them seemed to solidify.
"Onii-chan! You pervert!!!"
Umaru's embarrassed scream echoed from the bathroom.
It was so loud that even Gojo winced and covered his ears.
"What?! I was just worried about you getting deceived!"
He tried to defend himself, looking genuinely innocent.
Giving advice to his little sister—it's what any responsible older brother would do. How did this make him a pervert? Although, now that he thought about it, saying it so openly might have come across as a little creepy.
Ahem. Absolutely not admitting to being a creep.
Back in the bathroom, Umaru's face was beet red.
She understood the well-meaning intent behind Gojo's words, but that didn't stop the surge of embarrassment.
Honestly, she shouldn't have asked him to fetch a towel in the first place.
Only now did she remember—yesterday, she'd left a newly purchased bra in the same drawer as the towels.
"Alright, alright, I won't say anything else. Hurry up and dry off, okay?"
Gojo quickly changed the subject, walking away from the bathroom door.
Hearing his retreating footsteps, Umaru let out a sigh of relief.
If he'd stayed any longer, she might have drowned in embarrassment.
After a few more minutes in the bathroom, Umaru cautiously peeked her head out into the living room.
She saw Gojo sitting cross-legged on the sofa, looking utterly bored as he watched a drama on TV. He muttered complaints under his breath, calling it "ridiculous" and criticizing the "dense retarded male protagonist."
Noticing her peeking, he turned his head and looked right at her.
Stare—
For ten seconds, the two siblings locked eyes, neither saying a word.
Finally, it was Gojo who broke the stare, shifting his gaze back to the TV.
Guilty conscience?
Satisfied, Umaru's lips curled into a smug grin. But as she recalled the events from earlier, her cheeks flushed red again.
Pushing down her embarrassment, she forced herself to act normal and walked over to the sofa. With a playful leap, she flopped down onto her white-haired brother's lap.
Oddly enough, close physical contact like this didn't embarrass her at all. But a single mention of a "bra"? That was mortifying.
Girls' minds are truly a mystery.
"Hmph—"
Nestling her head against Gojo's chest, Umaru let out a satisfied hum and pulled out her phone.
But no sooner had she unlocked it than Gojo's hand gently pushed her arm away, keeping the phone at a distance.
"Don't hold your phone so close. It's bad for your eyes."
"Okay, okay, geez, annoying Onii-chan," she grumbled under her breath.
But the small smile playing at her lips told a different story.
These quiet, everyday moments of care—this was why Umaru had become such a Brocon.
It was just another day in the life of the Gojo siblings.