V5Ch2: Siblings Part 1

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Translator: Soafp

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[Kikyo PoV]

I have never been praised by my mother. That was just the everyday norm. In such an environment, there was no way for me to develop a sense of self-worth.

A failure. A blemish. An embarrassment. My mother’s words succinctly described my existence.

What I saw in her eyes were pity and resignation. I kept disappointing her, always being told I was worthless.

Eventually, I came to believe it. I grew accustomed to being a disappointment, and I locked the sadness away in my heart.

In elementary school, I scored 90 points on a test. I was so happy and eager to be praised that I rushed to tell my mother.

I came to her with the test in hand, feeling triumphant, but she just muttered, “You need to try harder,” in a tone of exasperation. That was when I realized that 90 points was a bad score.

From then on, I tried my hardest. I worked diligently on my studies.

I never forgot my homework, and I always did my review and preparation. Sure, there were classmates around me who scored even better.

Ninety points was not something to be praised. Anyone could get that score. I convinced myself of this.

On the next test, I scored 98 points. I felt confident. Seeing the score, I couldn't help but smile. Surely, my mother would praise me for this.

I hurried home and showed her the test paper. I wanted her to acknowledge my effort and validate my hard work. I just wanted to see her happy.

I would have been content with just a single word of recognition. Ideally, a pat on the head would have made me even happier. That was my small hope as a child. My little heart was full of expectations.

But what I received was a reproach:

“Why did you get this wrong?”

She was pointing out the two points I had lost.

I knew the correct answers—it was just a careless mistake.

I was at a loss when my mother asked me why I had made the errors. There was no reason. I just realized that even carelessness wasn't forgiven.

Still, I continued to work hard. I started going to cram school and took up piano, swimming, and calligraphy.

I had no time to play with friends. I didn't want these things, but I had no choice but to comply if my mother said so.

She was passionate about my education for my sake, I believed. I spent my days enduring, thinking I was living up to her expectations.

I always looked enviously at my classmates as they parted ways to play after school. My mood was always gloomy, filled with days of doing uninteresting activities I didn’t want to do.

Naturally, I never acquired any of those skills. Ballet, gymnastics, abacus—none of them. My mother's disappointment was inevitable. All I was left with were negative associations with those activities.

Anything forced upon you is only ever that much. I never became anything. But I kept trying with my studies—because there was still hope there.

“I did it!”

Looking at my test paper. I had finally scored 100 points.

A perfect score. The best possible result. There was no higher achievement. My teacher and friends praised me. I teared up with joy.

I rushed to tell my mother. Surely, she would praise me this time. After all, I was the best.

My eyes were full of expectation, but my mother's gaze was cold. She just said, “This is only to be expected,” and then said nothing more. Not a single glance my way. I stood there in a daze.

My efforts were dismissed so casually. It couldn't be considered normal. I was the only one in my class with a perfect score.

From my mother's perspective, it might have been trivial and not worth praising. But it was enough to break my spirit.

From then on, anything less than a perfect score was unacceptable. But even when I got a perfect score, there was no praise.

I lost my sense of purpose, leaving only emptiness. There was no point in trying anymore. I lost my enthusiasm for studying and began to slack off.

Inevitably, my grades started to drop. This only further disappointed my mother, creating a vicious cycle.

But there was nothing I could do. By that time, I had started to understand that I was a failure. At some point, my mother began to complain more frequently—about my father, about me.

My father has always prioritized my mother and supported her diligently. He has never neglected his work or his family. It was clear to me that he cherished my mother, and as far as I was concerned, he was a good father.

So, I couldn’t understand why my mother, who had every reason to be dissatisfied with me, would hold any grudge against my father.

When I was in kindergarten, our household seemed to be filled with conversations and warmth. Perhaps I was still chasing that illusion, hoping for my mother to return to how she was back then.

Staying at home became a source of stress, and I didn't want to go back. School was my only peaceful refuge. Fortunately, I was never bullied.

The various activities I was forced to do, though done reluctantly, somehow helped me develop some social skills. That was the only thing that might have been beneficial.

Once again, I had to show my test results, knowing it would only earn me more scolding. Eighty-three points. It was one of the highest scores in the class, but that didn’t matter.

To my mother, even a perfect score was meaningless, so any score other than perfect was equally worthless.

“Stop embarrassing me!”

My mother’s reaction was more intense than ever, a fury I had never seen before. Tears of frustration welled up in my eyes at my own inadequacy.

There might be correct answers on a test, but I had no way of satisfying my mother.

The absurdity and irrationality of it all left me feeling hollow.

“You have to win! You can't—”

“Stop it, Tsubaki!”

My father, who had come home earlier than usual, happened to overhear the exchange and quickly intervened, his face pale with urgency. Seeing my father's expression, my mother fell silent, realizing her mistake.

“Win against whom? Who am I supposed to beat?”

The words slipped out unconsciously. Had I been pitted against some unseen, unknown rival all along? If I was supposed to win, there must be an opponent. But who was it?

“…Just do your best.”

My mother turned her face away and retreated to her room. My father stood there with a troubled expression. The living room fell into a tense silence. Unable to bear it any longer, I asked my father.

“Please, tell me, Father!”

He hesitated for a long time. Eventually, he spoke, as if resigning himself to the truth. What he told me was beyond anything I could have imagined.

My father had been divorced before marrying my mother, and he had two children from his previous marriage.

“I’m sorry, Kikyo. Tsubaki wants to prove herself to everyone, to show she's better.”

My father apologized, and for the first time, I understood why my mother behaved the way she did.

“But that's…”

“Yes, it's a trivial obsession. Tsubaki should know that too.”

My father smiled wryly. Naturally, my older siblings were not my competitors. But my mother couldn’t ignore it. The revelation of my brother and sister’s existence shocked me deeply.

“Are they… really that exceptional?”

“Who knows? I was an irresponsible father. I abandoned everything. After the divorce, I cut off all contact with them. I always intended to tell you someday. That day just came a bit sooner. You're free to call me a terrible father. There's no excuse for what I did.”

My father's slumped shoulders looked so small and pitiful that I hesitated to speak.

“Don't worry about it. You're doing fine, Kikyo. Just keep being yourself.”

Oddly enough, I didn’t harbor any ill feelings toward my sister and brother. On the contrary, I found myself intrigued by them.

Maybe it was because I was an only child, but I was especially drawn to the idea of having an older brother. Perhaps it was because of an experience I had a long time ago, when a boy helped me in a snowy town.

I had always sought someone I could rely on more than my parents. Contrary to my mother's expectations, I never saw them as rivals.

How could I possibly win against someone even a perfect score couldn't surpass? Competing against an imaginary opponent of my mother's creation was futile.

As time went on, my admiration for my brother grew stronger and stronger. My imagination idealized him, painting a picture that suited my needs. Meeting him someday became my new goal.

“Father, please tell me. What are my sister and brother's names—”

When I entered middle school and had grown accustomed to the new environment, I came across a certain name on social media.

It was dazzling, a vivid brilliance that was different from my smoldering self, who lacked confidence in anything. My brother was there, someone who had become what I could never be, living freely and with abandon.

I was captivated by his radiance. I couldn't take my eyes off him. I couldn't help but feel a deep sense of respect and admiration for him. My envy turned into reverence, and my idealized image of him became an object of worship.

Every day seemed joyful and filled with an irresistible charm. As my feelings grew, I got to know someone who was an enthusiastic supporter of my brother. Close in age, this person called him “Onii-chan.” I couldn't help but feel envious.

We became friends, and I heard many stories about my brother—both good and bad. The glamorous image I saw on social media was far removed from his real life. That too was a shock to me.

My brother had struggled too. His life had not always been smooth sailing. He was not an idol but an unmistakably human being.

The gap between reality and my idealized image only intensified my feelings. Around this time, my mother's condition worsened.

She became increasingly emotionally unstable, frequently fell ill, and her relationship with my father began to deteriorate. My mother started to vehemently reject my father.

I heard them argue many times. Though only my mother raised her voice, my father also grew increasingly worn out by my mother's hysterical outbursts.

At the same time, my mother's attitude towards me changed. It was as if she had lost interest in me altogether. She no longer said anything about my studies, which she had once been so passionate about.

My grades had plateaued. Perhaps she had finally given up on me. But my mother's eyes were filled with terrible sadness, and I was frustrated with myself for not being able to meet her expectations.

A constant tension pervaded our home. My mother was suffering and struggling. She pushed away my father's desperate attempts to help her, turned her back on me, and continued to lament in agony.

My family, my home, was in complete ruin. Our daily life was crumbling around us. It was a suffocating prison, a never-ending nightmare for the three of us.

My father was also suffering. He began drinking heavily, something he rarely did before. The amount he drank increased steadily.

Both my father and mother were wasting away. I was powerless to do anything. I couldn't save anyone.

“If only Yukito were here…”

My father muttered.

He seemed to believe that my brother could somehow pull us out of this nightmare. But what could my brother do? He had no connection to us and had been absent from our lives entirely.

My father's words echoed in my ears, lingering and repeating.

“Will Onii-sama save us?”

I wondered, gazing out at the dark sky from my room, hoping my thoughts would somehow reach him.

---

[Kikyo PoV]

“But why did your mother’s condition suddenly change?”

“…I don’t know. My father kept his lips tightly sealed about that.”

After finishing her story, Hiori tilted her head. Her big, round eyes were endearing. We had exchanged words many times before, but this was the first time we were meeting in person.

I had been nervous at first, but this friend of mine, who was also a fellow sister, was so friendly that I quickly felt at ease. As I appreciated the friend who had taken me out to see the sights of Tokyo, I felt a slight sense of admiration.

Hiori-san was full of charm. She had a way of expressing emotions openly, something I lacked. I wondered if my mother would have been happier if I had been a charming girl like Hiori-san.

“I see… It’s complicated, isn’t it? Don’t worry! Onii-chan will figure something out!”

She repeated what she had said last night. Everything I knew. It wasn't much, but Hiori-san laughed brightly and shrugged it off, her nonchalant attitude making me feel a bit deflated.

“You really trust Onii-sama, don't you?”

I felt a slight pang of jealousy. A petty emotion that made me aware of my own meanness, sinking my spirits.

Seeing through my feelings, Hiori-san laughed cheerfully.

“Yep! Onii-chan is amazing! So, Kikyo-chan, just relax and let him handle it. Just relax!”

She puffed out her modest chest with pride. In that area, I might actually have an advantage over her. As I thought about this, Hiori-san's words took on a slight shadow.

“…Otherwise, Onii-chan won’t be able to do his best.”

“Eh?”

I felt a bit of discomfort at those words. To dispel it, Hiori-san grabbed my hand.

“Let’s go! Look over there! It’s so high up!”

“…Uuuwa, it’s a little scary.”

A sense of loss. Standing on the transparent floor, I felt a momentary dizziness. The primal emotion of fear.

“It’s okay! There are lots of people working here, and unless a monster shows up, we’re fine. But, you know, when people say things like ‘people look like ants’ at times like this, it’s so cliché and boring.”

“City people say things I don’t really understand.”

The city below us from the observation deck stretched endlessly without a break. It was hard to believe it was once a burnt-out field long ago.

My own city was also urban, but compared to this high-density development, it seemed dubious. The only advantage might be its long history.

The capital was vast in every sense—people, concentrated wealth.

“This is actually my first time here too!”

“Is that so?”

I widened my eyes at her unexpected words. When it comes to Tokyo’s tourist spots, this one always tops the list. Even I had wanted to visit at least once. Though the admission fee was a bit steep…

“Places you can go to anytime tend to be like that, don’t they?”

“Ahem… It might not be the most tactful way to put it, but you might be right.”

“Don’t you think the same way about your local temples, Kikyo-chan? Like, ‘Ugh, just another temple, how boring’?”

“Please don’t say such incomprehensible things!”

Hearing Hiori-san’s mischievous tone, I couldn’t help but smile. She had a point. What might seem special to tourists isn’t necessarily special to those who live nearby.

Someone living in a place without snow might be fascinated by it, but those in heavy snowfall areas find it a nuisance, dealing with snow removal. The relationship between the extraordinary and the everyday is just like that.

“But it’s just tall. Honestly, I’m bored already!”

“Shhh! Shhh!”

She was ruining the moment. To distract my friend from saying something inappropriate, I changed the subject.

“Yuri Onee-sama told me she disliked me.”

“Yuri Onee-chan might be like that. It can’t be helped.”

Hiori-san ran to the observation deck’s corridor and peered down. It can’t be helped. That phrase naturally made sense.

Everything couldn’t be helped. Suddenly having a half-sister appear would surely be unsettling. My existence itself was likely unacceptable.

“That’s not it.”

Before I knew it, Hiori-san’s eyes were on me.

“Onii-chan is really dependable!”

Turning her gaze back to the megacity, she continued.

“He always helps when we’re in trouble, whether it’s me or Onee-chan. He’ll help you too, Kikyo-chan. That’s why Yuri Onee-chan dislikes people who rely on him. It’s not just you.”

Her unexpected words left me confused.

“Onii-chan is dependable. That’s half true and half false.”

Her words made it sound like being dependable was a bad thing, which unsettled me.

“Onii-chan has been through a lot of hardships and sadness. But he never relied on anyone. No, that’s not right. He never tried to rely on anyone. Onii-chan is dependable because he had to be. He couldn’t remain a child and had to grow up faster than anyone else.”

There was a sense of desolation in Hiori-san’s words. Onii-sama reached out to help me. But who reached out to help him? If no one did, he must have had no choice but to become strong. If that’s the case, it's incredibly—

“It’s a sad thing, isn’t it?”

Her smile was different from her usual innocent one; it was tinged with sorrow.

“The more people rely on him, the more alone he becomes. It's no wonder Yuri Onee-chan hates it. Onii-chan is kind, but his kindness is poisonous. It doesn’t allow for dependence.”

I wanted to rely on him. When I learned about him, I thought he might understand me.

“I love Onee-chan so much, but I also hate her.”

Conflicting emotions. Perhaps they were similar to the feelings I harbored towards my mother.

“She didn’t realize how much he loved her. She greedily demanded more, forced her understanding on him, depended on him, and in the process, she hurt him.”

The quiet words carried a deep-seated anger. My relationship with Hiori-san was still new. There were so many things I didn’t know about Onii-sama. There was a history there that I was unaware of.

“But she doesn’t want to trouble him with her disputes. Well, Onee-chan is reflecting on it now.”

The tense atmosphere lightened with her words.

“Onii-chan, you know, never had a rebellious phase. It's kind of amazing, but maybe it’s because he’s been rebelling in his own way all along, and it’s not over yet?”

As I watched Hiori-san deep in thought, I remembered what my half-sister had said to me. It wasn’t that he didn’t have a rebellious phase; it was just that his rebellion was against something unreasonable.

“If only I could become as strong as him—”

“That’s a no.”

The sudden rejection from Hiori-san sent a chill down my spine.

“You mustn't envy him. Living like that is very hard.”

How much did I really know about Onii-sama? Last night, he listened to my clumsy words. He paid attention, sincerely. There were so many things I wanted to say, so many things I wanted him to hear. But I knew nothing about him. That realization felt like a sin.

“…Maybe, just maybe, your mother—”

Hiori-san seemed to have realized something.

“Do you know something!?”

I impulsively moved closer, seeking any clue to improve my relationship with my mother.

“No, sorry. It's nothing. Besides, even if that’s the case, only Onii-chan can do something about it. Let’s believe in him.”

She smiled warmly, taking my hand.

“Let’s go buy some souvenirs! Onii-chan gave us some spending money!”

“Wait, Hiori-san!”

“Onii-chan said he has two hundred million yen in debt, but he's still so generous.”

“Isn't that a path to bankruptcy!?”

“It’s Onii-chan. He'll manage! And if he doesn't, well…”

Another revelation about Onii-sama left me in shock. That kind of amount isn’t something to take lightly.

“I wish Onii-chan could have come with us. Don't you think so, too, Kikyo-chan?”

It was disappointing, but it couldn't be helped. He had his own plans. But even so—

“It can’t be helped. Let’s Onee-chan have him today! But next time, we'll go with Onii-chan too!”

“Yes!”

Hiori-san’s older sister and Onii-sama are childhood friends of the same age. Their relationship seems like something guided by fate, evoking an ideal reminiscent of a storybook. It’s a longing for something pure and beautiful.

“I wonder what Onii-chan and the others are doing right now?”

With that conversation, I followed Hiori-san as we headed to Asakusa.

---

[Yukito PoV]

“Thank you for coming along today, Yukito.”

“You don't seem to be all dried up.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Maybe I didn't need a watering can after all.”

I put away the watering can shaped like an elephant in my backpack.

“So what's this about?”

I had received a message from Hiori-chan saying, “Onee-chan is turning into a dried-up woman! Looks like Onii-chan is lacking nutrients,” but am I really something that can even be squeezed for juice?

Ignoring Hiori-chan's protests, I flipped through the catalog I had bought at the reception. There were many intriguing circles listed. Most of them were literary works, but some included rare research, critiques, and other materials of scholarly value. My intellectual curiosity was incessantly stimulated.

“The editor suggested that I should see it in person to understand what it's all about.”

“Seeing is believing, as they say.”

“Yeah… I'm getting a bit nervous.”

My childhood friend was very determined. Her eyes were serious. According to Hiori-chan, she had been working very hard on this. I thought it would be fine if it also served as a break for her, but it seemed like I might enjoy it too.

On the weekend, we were at the Industry Hall for a literary works exhibition and sales event.

All the books here were sold by amateurs. There was no ISBN on any of them. Although some professional writers were mixed in, I couldn't tell who they were, and even the books sold by professionals were hobbyist works.

This was essentially an amateur festival. That's why the niche content was so fascinating.

“—There are indeed readers behind the works.”

Hinagi's online novel was being published in book form. Although she had met the editor once, most communication was via email, and reader feedback also came through email.

A lonely endeavor without direct interaction with people. Hiori-chan had said that Hinagi was dry, but now she seemed to be glowing like a fish with water. Perhaps she was feeling a real connection to reader who were reading her work through this event. It was a sensation I didn't understand.

“You also seem to like working on various projects with me. You seem suited for these kinds of events.”

“Is that so?”

I hadn't really thought about it, but I took out something I had made from my backpack to give to Hinagi.

“What's that?”

I took Hinagi-chan's hand, who looked puzzled, and placed something in her palm.

“I wanted to give you this. It's SD Hinagi-chan.”

It was a chibi version of Hinagi-chan, about the size of my thumb. I was quite proud of it.

“You made another weird thing… Well, it's cute though.”

Hinagi-chan observed the SD Hinagi-chan with a somewhat exasperated expression.

“It's not just any SD Hinagi-chan. Look at this.”

I took the SD Hinagi-chan back from Hinagi-chan and placed it on the ground.

“Okay? If you pull it back slowly like this…”

There was a clicking sound and a slight resistance as the SD Hinagi-chan moved.

“What are you doing, Yukito?”

I let go of the SD Hinagi-chan and, as if to show it off to the bewildered Hinagi-chan, it whirred and accelerated with a “whirring” sound, traveling about a meter before moving forward.

“It’s equipped with a pull-back spring.”

“Is this the kind of toy car you used to see when you were little!?”

The SD Hinagi-chan toppled over as Hinagi-chan stomped her feet in frustration.

“Yes. Play with it when you’re bored at home.”

I picked it up and placed it back in Hinagi-chan’s palm.

“I’m not going to play with it! Stop being so obsessive.”

“This one really gets exciting when you play with it, you know? It's a series of intense battles. Though I did lose once.”

“Your place always seems so fun lately…”

We set up a course in the living room and had a race with four SD figures: SD Ouka, SD Yuri, SD Sekka, and SD Yukito.

It was a thrilling event, almost as if it were a professional race. However, for some reason, my SD Yukito kept veering off to the left and falling off the table, repeatedly losing. It was a painful reminder of the importance of maintenance.

“And the latter part of the race was awful. Yuri-san said the course would be a ‘highway' or something.”

“I don't want to hear it, but that sounds inhumane!”

“She lied down and use that as the course—”

“I knew I shouldn't have asked!”

“The Kokonoe House Cup (with deep meaning).” [TL: You know cup as in…]

“Don't play adult games with a kid's toy!”

Hinagi-chan covered her ears in a hurry. Cheers to the childlike spirit that refuses to be forgotten. I was thoroughly defeated.

“…Well, it might be better than having a cold, silent house with no conversation.”

“I have an SD Hiori-chan too.”

As I gave it with a grand sigh, Hinagi-chan put it into her bag.

The line moved, and it was finally our turn to enter. As I was about to step into the venue, I couldn't help but stop in my tracks. Looking beside me, Hinagi was also holding her breath.

“………………It's amazing.”

“Yeah.”

What struck me was the sheer pressure of it all. Overwhelmed by the overwhelming heat, I knew I couldn't stay still forever. Resolutely, I stepped inside. The venue was packed with people.

It was bustling. While crowded trains come to mind when thinking of congestion, what was different here was the expressions on people's faces.

“Everyone looks like they're having fun.”

I nodded slightly at Hinagi's murmured observation. The faces in crowded trains during commuting are filled with gloom.

But this place was full of vitality. It had such intense energy, like a power spot that could exhaust you just by being there. The people selling books were actively calling out to customers. The energetic atmosphere felt different from regular retail.

“That’s what's unique about primary producers.”

Typically, retail store employees don't have much personal attachment or responsibility for the products.

But here, it's different. Although there are some secondary creations, what's common among them is the primitive process of choosing a subject on their own, making the book at their own expense, and selling it themselves.

What's being sold is the crystallization of each person’s “likes.” And those selling them are the creators themselves. Hence, the enthusiasm put into it is distinct.

“I guess the editor wanted you to experience this energy.”

“I can understand that. You can't grasp it just by staring at a computer.”

A look of envy. The essence of creation. This experience will undoubtedly become nourishment for Hinagi.

“Yukito?”

“What’s wrong? Were you overwhelmed?”

“Yes, but that's not it…”

Hinagi-chan leaned in close and gently took my hand.

“This place is overflowing with ‘Love,’ isn’t it?”

“I looked it up earlier, and it seems that most circles are operating at a loss.”

Works born from a focus on profit don't come to be. Loving something alone isn't economically sustainable. Even so, there's a pride in being sincere to one's passion, even if it means ignoring profit.

“Yukito, you have it too. ‘Affection.'”

“Hinagi?”

As Hinagi spoke quietly, as if reassuring herself, I could still hear her words amidst the noise of the venue.

“The feeling of love can’t be suppressed, and it takes shape. It's the same with what you create. You haven’t lost it. You haven’t given it up. You have your own ‘Love.'”

The strength of her grip on my hand suddenly increased. I could feel her warmth.

“Before we reunited and even after, I was always in a rush, just managing to convey my own feelings. I was always selfishly pushing my desires onto you, expecting you to fulfill them. You helped me. You saved me. …It’s funny, isn't it? I ended up receiving so much. I kept thinking about what I could do for you, what I should do, and that itself was my own ego. So now, I've decided to stop chasing after it. Let's search for it together, slowly. By doing what you want to do, finding many things you like, and spending such days, you should be able to find it someday.”

The childhood friend walking beside me seemed to have grown into an incredibly mature woman without me even realizing it.

“What should I find?”

I naturally asked back. What could I possibly find?

As if anticipating this question, Hinagi immediately continued.

“—The future.”

For a brief moment, we were enveloped in a profound silence.

“I need to work hard to be able to be there with you. I've renewed my resolve. Because if I'm just someone who relies on your kindness, I wouldn't be a fitting childhood friend, would I?”

Her soft, almost enlightened smile was a new expression for me. A side of Hinagi I had never seen before.

She seemed to be on the verge of metamorphosis. Ready to soar high into the sky, about to take flight.

“I want to become an adult—”

“No.”

She gently placed her index finger on my lips, silencing me.

“Becoming an adult can wait a little longer. It's fine to remain immature for now. This time is something precious that we have only now. So let's forget the difficult things and enjoy ourselves!”

I had stolen and wasted their time. I had deprived them of their possibilities, dismissing their actions as futile.

I had struggled repeatedly, trying to figure out how to be abandoned by them.

But they might be becoming more independent than I thought. It might be okay to rely a little on the grace they've given me. Even if our paths diverge someday, for this brief period when we can't fully become adults, it's okay to stay as innocent as children.

After all, wasn't that what Sekka-san said too?

This is a moratorium. Even though I understand that, she allowed me to rely on her.

“Shall we continue looking around?”

I'm comforted by the unchanged smile of my transformed childhood friend.

I too received something from Hinagi.

–This sense of security.