The walk home felt unusually long. My legs moved automatically, dragging me closer to the familiar monotony of my room. I wasn't thinking about the next day. I wasn't thinking about that either.
I shook my head slightly as if that would dispel the thought. My eyelids were heavy, my body even heavier. Maybe I just needed sleep. Yes, sleep sounded good. I'd collapse on my bed and let the world disappear for a while. The day after tomorrow the Exam would come, and I'd deal with it then.
I unlocked the door and stepped inside, greeted by the warmth of home. There was the faint aroma of tea in the air and the sound of something sizzling in the kitchen. A faint, almost imperceptible sense of normalcy brushed against me, though it didn't quite stick.
"Welcome home, Onii-chan!" Komachi's cheerful voice rang out from the room, "I ordered some food for us!"
Her energy was as contagious as ever, but I barely managed to muster a tired nod.
"Yeah, thanks. I'll probably just eat tomorrow, though. I'm too tired tonight," I said, kicking off my shoes and heading toward my room.
"Huh?" Komachi's voice trailed after me, the sound of her steps growing closer. "You? Too tired to eat? That's weird." She caught up to me just as I reached my door. "Are you feeling okay? Did you finally overwork that brilliant mind of yours, Onii-chan?"
I paused, one hand on the doorknob, and glanced at her. "No, I'm fine. Just tired. I'm planning to sleep until tomorrow."
She studied me for a moment, her brows furrowing. The usual teasing glint in her eyes faded, replaced by something softer.
"Wait a second Onii-chan," she said, stepping closer. "Your eyes…" Her voice dropped, and she tilted her head slightly. "They look… even more dead than usual. Like, seriously. Did something happen? You look like you've been carrying a boulder or something. A boulder made of despair."
I grimaced at her words, processing them slowly. "My eyes… look worse than usual?" I asked, almost to myself.
"They do!" she replied, crossing her arms and staring at me as if inspecting a broken machine. "You've always had that whole 'dead fish' thing going on, but now it's like… zombie fish. Did someone say something to you? Did my Onii-chan fight with someone? Did something bad happen at school?"
I turned the words over in my head. Zombie fish? That was a new one. Leave it to Komachi to give my perpetual exhaustion an upgrade.
"It's nothing," I said, brushing her off with a wave of my hand. "Just a lot going on with school, that's all. Special Exam soon, you know? I'll be like new after some sleep."
She didn't seem convinced. Komachi rarely was when it came to me.
"Eh, you sure, Onii-chan? You're not… I don't know, pushing yourself too hard or something? Komachi's lying detector caught something fishy going on!" Komachi said, leaning forward to peer into my eyes as if trying to catch a glimpse of my soul. "Because if you're gonna burn out or, like, fall into some kind of tragic existential crisis, I need to know! You're my lonely but still cool brother. It's my job to make sure you're in one piece."
Her words caught me off guard. Tragic existential crisis? That was oddly specific. Then again, I supposed it wasn't entirely unwarranted. I'd spent the last few hours twisting myself into knots over things that didn't really matter. At least, that's what I told myself.
"Komachi," I said, my voice quieter now.
Her expression brightened, and she clapped her hands together like she'd just come up with the ultimate solution to all my problems.
"Well, if you're feeling this bad, I know just the thing to cheer you up!" she declared. "Let's watch Pretty Cure together! It's the perfect way to feel better!"
I stared at her, my hand still on the doorknob, and felt the faintest twitch in my temple.
"Komachi," I said, my tone flat. "I'm in high school. Do you realize what would happen if anyone found out I was watching Pretty Cure? My already non-existent reputation would hit rock bottom. Scratch that—it'd sink so deep, that I'd be the first person to invent negative social standing. I might as well dig my own grave."
Her grin widened mischievously, and she crossed her arms, tilting her head with mock innocence. "Oh, really? Since when does my Onii-chan care about what people think? I thought you were all about ignoring societal norms and doing your own thing."
"That's… not the point,"
"Uh-huh," she said, clearly enjoying this far too much. "So, what I'm hearing is that my super cool, super detached Onii-chan is actually worried about what other people think of him. That's so cute!"
I raised my brow. "Cute isn't exactly the word I'd use, Komachi. Normies would rather slap some label on you to make sure you're boxed in as either a weirdo or someone to avoid entirely. The moment you step out of the unspoken boundaries of what's socially acceptable in sight, you're instantly marked as 'that guy.' You know, the one everyone whispers about but no one actually wants to associate with. There's a difference."
"Sure there is," she replied, her teasing tone unwavering. "But as you know, it has great storylines and amazing transformations."
I clicked my tongue. She wasn't wrong, but admitting that out loud was a line I wouldn't cross.
Still, the thought lingered. The only thing that kept me safe at Sobu was the simple fact that nearly no one even knew my name. If someone were to ask, "'Have you seen Hikigaya?" the answer would most likely be a collective, confused "Who?" followed by an awkward silence.
That silence might actually be the most socially acceptable interaction I've ever had.
I crossed my arms, holding my ground despite the faint twinge of guilt creeping in as I caught sight of Komachi's exaggerated pout. She was practically radiating disappointment, and I couldn't deny it made me feel like the villain of the hour. Still, I couldn't back down. My pride as a high school student and a self-respecting cynic was at stake.
"Sorry, Komachi," I said, trying to sound firm but coming off more resigned than anything else. "I'm not budging on this. Find someone else to share your magical girl marathon with."
"But you always liked it..."
She sighed dramatically, her shoulders slumping as if the weight of my refusal had physically crushed her. "Wow, Onii-chan. I didn't think you'd be so heartless. You've really changed, you know?"
I felt a stab of something in my chest, mostly annoyance, guilt, maybe both. Before I could respond, though, I felt her arms wrap around me from behind, locking me in place.
"What the—?!" I exclaimed, freezing mid-step as her grip tightened.
"Hah! Gotcha!" she declared triumphantly, pressing her forehead against my back like some kind of tactical hugger. "It's been ages since I had to go to such extreme measures, Onii-chan. But desperate times call for desperate Komachi actions!"
I blinked, processing her words while also trying to figure out how to escape this unbreakable sibling hold without resorting to anything that would get me disowned. "What are you even—? Komachi, let go!"
"No can do!" she chirped, her voice firm with determination. "I've decided! You're coming with me, Onii-chan. We're going out to eat. Right now."
"What?" I asked, dumbfounded, "but you said—"
"You heard me!" she said, her tone turning mischievous. "You've been moping around way too much lately. As your adorable and responsible little sister, it's my duty to make sure you don't turn into a hermit who lives off instant ramen and despair. So, we're going out. My treat."
I groaned internally, partly because I knew she wasn't going to let this go and partly because the thought of resisting felt even more exhausting than going along with it. "…You're seriously not letting me go until I say yes, are you?"
"Nope!" she chanted cheerfully.
"…Fine," I muttered, slumping my shoulders in defeat.
What I wouldn't do for my little sister.
Komachi laughed, releasing me and skipping ahead like she'd just won the lottery. "Don't worry, Onii-chan. You're weird, but you're my weird brother. That's what makes it okay!"
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ᛚᛟᚾᛖᛚᚤᚲᚤᚾᛁᚲᚨᛚᛋᛟᚢᛚ
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The small, cozy restaurant was typical for a casual outing, with a modest selection of Japanese comfort foods that didn't require you to break the bank. Komachi, of course, was practically bouncing in her seat as she scanned the menu, her indecisiveness only adding to her cuteness. I was sure she was doing it for purpose.
"Ooh, I can't decide! Should I get the Omurice or the karaage set? What do you think, Onii-chan?" she asked, glancing up at me with wide, eager eyes.
"Does it matter what I think? You're just going to pick whatever you want anyway," I replied, barely glancing at the menu. I already knew what I'd order: the classic tonkotsu ramen. Simple, filling, and efficient.
"You're so boring, Onii-chan," she said, puffing her cheeks before making her decision. "Fine, I'll get the karaage. It's been a while since I've had some good fried chicken. Oh! And maybe a melon soda. That's the perfect combo~"
I resisted the urge to smile. Only Komachi could turn a casual dinner into a festival of indecision and sugar.
After a few minutes, the waitress arrived, a polite smile on her face as she took our orders. My tonkotsu ramen and tea, Komachi's karaage set with melon soda. The waitress jotted everything down efficiently before pausing.
"Is that all for now?" she asked, her tone perfectly polite, though I noticed her gaze linger on me.
"Yes," I said curtly, but when I looked up, she was still staring.
She tilted her head slightly, a faint trace of suspicion creeping into her expression.
I met her gaze with a glare of my own, narrowing my eyes just enough to send a clear message: What's your problem?
In my head, though, the words were far less restrained. Stop looking at me like I'm some kind of juvenile delinquent. I'm a high school student, not a criminal, for crying out loud. Just do your job and stop judging me.
The waitress finally seemed to snap out of it. "Would you like to pay now or after your meal?" she asked.
"Now," I replied, pulling out my wallet and handing her enough to cover both meals.
Komachi blinked in surprise, her mouth already halfway open to protest, but I raised a hand to cut her off.
As the waitress walked away with the payment, Komachi leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. "Wait, wait, wait. Did you just… pay for me? Onii-chan, are you feeling okay? You're not running a fever, are you? I said it's my treat."
"It's fine," I said, leaning back in my chair. "I just figured if you paid, whatever scraps of dignity I have left would evaporate on the spot. That's all."
She stared at me for a moment before bursting into laughter, nearly doubling over as she tried to stifle the sound. "Oh, Onii-chan, you're so dramatic sometimes. I honestly thought you'd think something else."
I raised a brow. "Like what?"
She grinned, taking a deep breath and suddenly mimicking my voice in an exaggerated, deadpan tone. "'If a girl pays for her own meal, she'll grow up to be a good woman.'"
I froze, the words hitting me like a truck. "...When did I ever say something like that?"
Komachi shrugged, her mischievous grin relentless. "Oh, you didn't. But it totally sounds like something you would say, doesn't it? Onii-chan's taste is always a little… different."
I couldn't bring myself to glare at her, "You're lucky I'm too tired to argue with you right now."
She giggled, sipping her soda. "Admit it, Onii-chan."
"Let's just eat."
Komachi's teasing grin faded slightly as she set her soda down. She leaned back in her chair, her usual playful energy giving way to something sadder. "You know, Onii-chan," she began, her voice sincere, "when I saw you at home earlier, I thought your eyes looked... really scary. Like, for a second, I almost thought you died or something."
Her words hit me harder than I expected, and I froze, staring at her. My eyes widened despite myself, caught off guard by her candor.
Komachi's gaze stayed steady, her expression no longer carrying a hint of humor. "I mean it," she continued, her tone earnest. "You've always had that whole 'dead fish' thing going on, but today it felt different. Like... you weren't just tired. You looked so—" She hesitated, searching for the right word. "—strained. It's like you're carrying something so heavy, but you won't let anyone help."
I averted my gaze, staring down at the table. My chest felt tight, as though her words were reaching a part of me I'd been trying to ignore.
Komachi leaned forward, resting her chin on her hands as she studied me. "I miss when my Onii-chan was more... relaxed, y'know? You used to feel so comfortable being yourself, even if that meant being lazy or weird or annoying sometimes. But now, every time I see you, you look like you're always on edge. Like you're trying to hold everything together but don't know how."
I swallowed, my throat dry. She wasn't wrong, and somehow, that made it worse. Because that meant I failed to conceal anything. My mind scrambled for a response, something to deflect or downplay her concerns, but the solemnity in her voice rooted me in place.
"Komachi..." I finally muttered, my voice quieter than usual.
She smiled softly, though her eyes still held that hint of sadness. "You know you can talk to me, right? I mean, you're my Onii-chan. You're supposed to be the one looking out for me, but that doesn't mean I can't do the same for you."
I nodded slowly, feeling the weight of her words sink in. Komachi wasn't one to push when it came to serious stuff, but she had a way of slipping through the cracks in my defenses when I least expected it.
"Thanks," I said finally, my voice steady but quiet.
Her smile brightened, the lightness returning to her expression. "Of course! But don't think this means I'm going to stop teasing you. That's part of my job as the little sister."
I couldn't help but let out a small sigh, though the corner of my mouth twitched upward. "Yeah, I figured."
"Good!" she chirped, picking up a piece of karaage with her chopsticks. "Now eat up, Onii-chan. You need all the strength you can get to deal with my amazingness."
I rolled my eyes but reached for my bowl of ramen.
Soon Komachi set her chopsticks down, resting her chin on her hands as she gazed at me. Her playful demeanor had faded again, replaced by something more reflective.
"You know, Onii-chan," she began, her tone light but her words deliberate, "back when you were spending time with Onee-chan, you used to smile a lot more. Even if it was that gross smile of yours, with your dead fish eyes, it still had this weird charm to it. It made the day feel a little brighter."
I stared at her, utterly dumbfounded. The words didn't make sense. They didn't compute.
"...What?" I muttered, more to myself than to her.
Komachi tilted her head as if the answer were obvious. "I mean it. You actually seemed happy sometimes. It was kind of cute, you know?"
Cute? Happy? Those words didn't belong anywhere near me, let alone in the same sentence. My brow furrowed as I tried to recall what she was talking about. Smile? What smile? I didn't smile back then. I didn't even feel like smiling.
The thought gnawed at me, my mind quickly spiraling down a familiar, bitter path.
Why would I have been happy during that time? If there was anything I understood with absolute certainty, it was that Evil God had felt nothing genuine during those moments we shared. Her words, her actions, her expressions—they were all calculated, as hollow as an empty shell.
If that was true, then why? Why would my memories of that time betray me now? The idea that those moments could have brought me happiness was absurd. Unacceptable, even.
Because if that were true...
If I really had found something bright in those false interactions, if there had been even a shred of joy buried within that time, then what did that mean for my so-called search for something genuine?
It would mean I'd been chasing a lie from the very beginning.
The realization struck me like a cold, unrelenting wave, dragging me deeper into the ocean of my thoughts. My chest tightened as the weight of the possibility threatened to crush me. I couldn't accept that. My pursuit, my pathetic pursuit, my cynicism. It all had to mean something. It wasn't just an escape or a way to justify my mistaken detachment. It was the only thing tethering me to the notion that my path wasn't completely hollow.
I stared blankly at the table, my thoughts an uncontrollable torrent. From my own definition, something genuine couldn't possibly stem from a lack of true feeling. So why did this contradiction exist?
If Evil God had never seen me or Komachi as anything but a means to an end, then how could those moments have felt... sincere? How could they have felt happy?
It didn't make sense. It couldn't make sense. Because if it did, then everything I believed in, every carefully constructed argument, every shield I used to protect myself from disappointment, would come crumbling down.
Had I been wrong from the beginning?
What if my pursuit of something genuine was a contradiction in itself? If what I shared with her—a calculated illusion, a shallow give-and-take—felt sincere despite its falsehood, then perhaps the delusion wasn't a delusion at all.
But that would mean...
It wasn't false. It never was.
If something false could feel genuine, then the entire framework of my reasoning was flawed. The certainty I clung to, that genuine things must arise from truth, was a lie I told myself. A fragile lie.
"...Onii-chan?" Komachi's voice pierced through my spiraling thoughts.
I didn't respond. My gaze was fixed somewhere beyond her, but I wasn't truly seeing. The memory of that summer flashed in my mind like a sudden spark, searing and vivid. My chest constricted, and I felt my breath quicken.
I could feel my hands trembling, and before I could stop it, the trembling turned into a shiver that ran through my entire body. My fingers twitched as if searching for something, and I instinctively reached for my pockets.
Nothing.
The wrong pants.
A laugh nearly escaped me. Even my usual defenses were slipping away, leaving me exposed to the storm inside my head.
"Onii-chan?!" Komachi's voice grew more urgent, her concern evident.
Without thinking, I shot to my feet. "We're going home," I spoke abruptly, my voice strained but firm.
Komachi blinked, startled. "H-Huh? Wait, what? Why—what's going on?"
I didn't answer. I couldn't. The noise in my head was too loud, drowning out everything else. I started walking, barely aware of whether she was following.
Behind me, I heard her hurried steps as she caught up, her voice laced with panic. "Onii-chan! Wait! What's wrong?!"
I didn't turn to look at her. Not when I bore such a conflicted face. All I could do was push forward, desperate to escape the weight of my thoughts, even though I knew they'd follow me wherever I went.
...
As we entered the house, I could feel Komachi's eyes on me, but I couldn't bring myself to stop. I just turned my head slightly, avoiding her gaze.
"Sorry," I muttered quietly before closing the door to my room behind me.
My hands moved instinctively, reaching for the pocket of the pants I'd left draped over the chair. I pulled out a folded piece of paper, worn, crumpled, and almost forgotten. Carefully, as though unfolding it might stir something I wasn't ready to face, I opened it.
A photo.
In it, there was me, Komachi, and... her. The soft glow of festival lanterns lit up the background, their light slowly flickering to life, casting a warm, golden hue over the scene. Our faces looked so... content despite everything.
It didn't make sense.
Why? Why did you ask me to teach you what happiness was, only to vanish without a word?
If you wanted an answer so badly, then why? Why did you go to ANHS? Why couldn't you have come to Sobu?!
I don't understand you at all.
My hands trembled as I held the photo, the edges crinkling under the strain of my grip. I tried to flatten it, but the damage was already done.
You didn't say a single thing to me after I left the hospital. Not once!
You disappeared. You just vanished into thin air.
And you left me here. Alone. With all of this.