The classroom buzzed with the usual morning chatter—students exchanging greetings, last-minute cramming, and the occasional sleepyhead dozing off before the teacher arrived. I took my seat near the window, staring outside at the schoolyard where a few students loitered before the bell rang for first period.
Kane plopped into the seat beside me, tossing her bag onto the desk. "Alright, spill. What did you and Shinobu talk about?"
I sighed. "Why are you so interested?"
"Because I'm nosy," she said without shame, resting her chin in her palm. "And because, believe it or not, I actually care."
Sayoko slid into her seat on my other side, organizing her books neatly. "She has a point. If it was enough to change your usual gloomy aura, it must've been something important."
I rolled my eyes. "You guys are dramatic."
"And you're avoiding the question," Kane shot back. "Come on, Yuki, just tell us."
I hesitated, my fingers tightening around my pen. It wasn't that I didn't want to share—I just wasn't sure how to put it into words.
"I called her Onee-chan again," I said finally, voice quieter than I intended.
Kane blinked. Sayoko looked up, her expression unreadable.
"Oh," Kane said after a moment. "That's... big."
I nodded, staring down at my desk. "Yeah."
Sayoko leaned forward slightly. "How did she react?"
I let out a small, breathy laugh. "Smug. Annoying. Herself."
Kane grinned. "Sounds like Shinobu."
"She also flicked me on the forehead."
"Ah, sibling love," Kane mused, shaking her head. "So, what now? Are you two, like, officially okay again?"
That question sat heavy in my mind. Were we okay? Not exactly. But we were something.
"I don't know," I admitted. "But we're trying."
Sayoko nodded approvingly. "That's good enough."
Before Kane could prod further, the teacher walked in, signaling the start of class. As the lesson began, I let my mind wander for a moment, replaying the past day in my head.
Trying. That's all I could do, wasn't it?
Lunch break arrived sooner than expected. I found myself wandering the halls with Kane and Sayoko, the three of us heading toward the rooftop—our usual spot when we wanted to escape the noise of the cafeteria.
The spring breeze greeted us as we stepped outside, the sun casting soft warmth over the school grounds. Kane stretched her arms with a satisfied sigh. "Man, I swear, being indoors too long makes my brain rot."
Sayoko sat down near the railing, placing her lunch neatly beside her. "That would explain a lot."
Kane gasped dramatically. "Betrayal."
I smirked, sitting beside them and opening my own lunch. For a while, we ate in comfortable silence, the distant sounds of students echoing below.
Then Kane spoke up. "Hey, Yuki."
I looked up. "Yeah?"
She hesitated, then tilted her head slightly. "Do you think you'll tell Shinobu about... you know. Everything?"
I stiffened, fingers pausing over my chopsticks. "She knows enough."
Sayoko met my gaze, her expression gentle but firm. "That's not the same as knowing everything."
I exhaled. They weren't wrong. I had told Shinobu about our parents. About the expectations, the suffocation. But not about the worst parts. Not about the nights where sleep felt like a punishment. Not about how much I had wanted to disappear.
I wasn't sure I could.
"Maybe," I said eventually. "Just... not yet."
Kane studied me for a moment before nodding. "Fair enough. But don't wait too long, alright?"
I nodded, though I wasn't sure if I meant it.
By the time school ended, my mind was exhausted. As I packed up my things, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out, blinking at the message on the screen.
[Shinobu: You coming home or do I have to drag you back myself?]
A small chuckle escaped me. I quickly typed a response.
[Yuki: I'm coming. Don't get your hopes up.]
[Shinobu: Too late.]
Shaking my head, I slipped my phone back into my pocket and slung my bag over my shoulder. Kane and Sayoko were waiting for me by the door.
"Heading home?" Kane asked.
I nodded. "Yeah."
Sayoko gave me a knowing look. "Shinobu?"
"Shinobu," I confirmed.
Kane smirked, nudging my arm. "Well, tell her she's stuck with you now. No take-backs."
I huffed a laugh. "I think she already knows."
As we stepped out into the fading afternoon light, something in my chest felt a little lighter.
Maybe, just maybe, I wasn't running anymore.
The walk home was quiet, save for the occasional rustling of leaves as the wind wove through the trees lining the sidewalk. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of spring—a reminder that time was moving forward, whether I was ready or not.
By the time I reached the house, the sky had begun shifting to shades of orange and pink. I paused at the doorstep, exhaling before pushing the door open.
"I'm home," I called out.
The response was immediate. "Took you long enough," Shinobu's voice rang from the living room.
I slipped off my shoes and stepped inside. Shinobu was sprawled across the couch, a book resting on her stomach, but her gaze was fixed on me. Her usual sharp eyes studied me carefully, like she was trying to read something in my expression.
"You're staring," I muttered, dropping my bag by the door.
"Maybe," she said, sitting up. "You look like you've been thinking too much."
I snorted. "When do I not?"
Shinobu rolled her eyes but didn't argue. She gestured toward the kitchen. "I made dinner. You should eat."
I blinked. "You cooked?"
"Don't act so surprised," she scoffed. "I'm perfectly capable."
"Last time you tried, you almost burned the kitchen down."
Shinobu huffed. "That was years ago."
"Two months ago."
"Shut up and eat."
I smirked but complied, making my way to the kitchen. A plate was already set for me—rice, miso soup, and grilled fish. Simple, but warm. Comforting. I sat down and picked up my chopsticks.
Shinobu leaned against the doorway, watching. "How was school?"
"Same as always," I said between bites. "Kane and Sayoko were nosy."
"Sounds about right."
"They wanted to know if we were 'okay' now."
Shinobu tilted her head. "And what did you say?"
I hesitated, then set my chopsticks down. "That we're trying."
She didn't respond immediately. Instead, she stepped into the kitchen, taking the seat across from me. "Do you think that's enough?" she asked, her voice quieter now.
I met her gaze. The weight of everything unsaid lingered between us—the years apart, the resentment, the guilt.
"I don't know," I admitted. "But I want to try."
Something softened in her expression. Then, she reached over and flicked my forehead—gentler this time.
"Ow," I muttered, rubbing the spot.
"Good," she said, smirking. "Because you're stuck with me now. No take-backs."
I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. The corners of my lips twitched into a small, tired smile.
"Yeah," I murmured. "I know."
For the first time in a long while, home felt a little less heavy.
We finished eating in relative peace, and afterward, I helped with the dishes, something that had become an unspoken habit between us. When we were done, Shinobu leaned against the counter, arms crossed.
"You sure you're okay?" she asked.
I glanced at her, the words sitting heavy on my tongue. I could say yes. It would be easier.
But I didn't want to lie. Not to her.
"I'm trying," I admitted.
Shinobu studied me for a long moment before nodding. "Good." Then, without warning, she flicked my forehead.
I scowled. "Seriously?"
She grinned. "It's what big sisters do."
I rubbed my forehead, but I couldn't hide the small smile tugging at my lips.
For the first time in a long while, home didn't feel so far away.
The evening settled in quietly, the hum of the city outside a soft reminder that life continued beyond these walls. After finishing the dishes, Shinobu retreated to the couch, stretching lazily as she flicked through the TV channels. I lingered in the kitchen for a moment, staring at my reflection in the darkened window.
Trying. That's what I had told her.
And I meant it.
I walked over and sat on the opposite end of the couch, leaning back with a sigh. The tension I hadn't even realized I was holding seemed to ease as I let myself relax. Shinobu, without looking away from the screen, tossed a cushion at me.
"Since when do you sit like a grandpa?" she teased.
I caught the cushion and rolled my eyes. "Since always."
She scoffed, then glanced at me properly. Something in her gaze softened, like she was debating whether to say something.
"You know," she started, shifting slightly, "I used to wonder if you'd ever talk to me again."
The words caught me off guard. I turned to her, but she wasn't looking at me anymore. Instead, she focused on the TV, though I could tell she wasn't really paying attention to whatever was playing.
"I wanted to," I admitted, my voice quieter than I intended. "I just… didn't know how."
Shinobu hummed, pulling her knees up to her chest. "Yeah. I get that."
Silence stretched between us, but it wasn't uncomfortable. If anything, it felt like something unspoken was finally settling. Like we were both acknowledging what had been left unsaid for too long.
After a while, she spoke again. "You're still an idiot, by the way."
I snorted. "Good to know some things never change."
She smirked, nudging my leg with her foot. "Don't get used to me being nice. I have a reputation to uphold."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
A yawn slipped past her lips, and she stretched her arms over her head. "I'm heading to bed. Don't stay up too late."
I raised a brow. "You're giving me advice now?"
"Someone has to." She stood up, ruffling my hair as she walked past.
"Oi—!" I tried to swat her hand away, but she was already retreating down the hall, her laughter fading into the night.
I sat there for a while after she left, staring at the TV without really watching.
It wasn't perfect. There were still things I hadn't told her. Still parts of me I wasn't sure I could share.
But maybe, just maybe, we were getting there.
And for now, that was enough.