POV: AstraeaLocation: School Courtyard – Afternoon
Lunch break spilled across the campus like warm sunlight—students laughing, wrappers crinkling, vending machines humming under a patch of dappled shade. The breeze carried the scent of soy sauce and fried buns.
I saw her step out of class. Alone.
Airi.
She always looked calm. Soft-spoken. Graceful, even in silence.
She headed for the vending machine near the maple tree in the courtyard—her usual spot.
I followed.
Quietly. Calmly.
Exactly how a good little sister would.
She stood under the rustling leaves, sipping from a juice box, her eyes lost in the glow of her phone.
She didn't see me until I was almost beside her.
"Senpai," I said gently, with the sweetest smile I could wear.
She blinked, then returned it—careful, polite.
"Astraea-chan. You're alone today?"
I nodded, clutching my book against my chest. "Mm. Onii-chan's in the library. Studying again." I tilted my head. "He always works so hard… But I guess you know that better than anyone, right?"
She relaxed a little, her voice softening. "He's always been like that. Quiet, but dependable."
"Mhm," I hummed. "So innocent, too. It's kind of rare. Pure, gentle, kind. Always helping teachers. Always offering his notes. Top of the class without even trying."
I laughed, light and playful.
"But…"
I leaned closer.
"Can I ask something kind of weird?"
Airi tilted her head slightly. "What is it?"
I brushed a strand of hair behind my ear and gave her a little smile. "How do you fall in love with someone like my brother?"
She blinked. "…What do you mean?"
I smiled wider, as if I'd said something silly.
"I just mean—he's so quiet. So perfect. So predictable." I giggled. "He's the type who does his homework before dinner and never gets in trouble. A boring little honor student."
Her lips curled in a smile.
But it didn't reach her eyes.
"He's not boring," she said gently. "He's calm. He listens. He notices things no one else does."
"Oh, I know," I chimed quickly. "It's sweet. You're sweet. But… you're so lively and pretty. I just wonder if someone like him could ever keep up with you."
A pause.
Airi didn't answer.
Her grip on her juice box tightened—just slightly.
That was enough.
I looked away and twisted the hem of my sleeve.
"I guess I just worry," I murmured. "Maybe he's so quiet because he's hiding something. Not bad things, of course. Just… deep things."
Her gaze sharpened, even though she tried to hide it.
But I saw it.
The shift in her posture. The calculation behind her calm. She already suspected.
Perfect.
"Sorry!" I chirped, backing off with a playful wave. "I've been watching too many detective dramas lately. Everyone seems like they're hiding something once you go looking, right?"
She smiled faintly. "Right."
But the way she said it?
Flat.
I stepped closer and wrapped my arms around her in a gentle hug. My cheek brushed hers.
I whispered:
"Take care of Onii-chan, okay? He's so pure and kind… but fragile, too. He breaks easily."
She went still.
Not afraid.
But shaken.
I pulled back and smiled brightly, tilting my head like I hadn't said anything strange at all.
And walked away.
POV: RenLocation: Downtown – Afternoon
The sun was soft today, hidden behind layers of pale clouds. The air smelled of bread and soap bubbles—children ran by with balloons, and music from a busker drifted faintly through the streets.
Airi tugged gently on my sleeve as we stood in front of the flower shop window. "Look," she whispered, pressing close to my arm. "They have the same blue hydrangeas from our middle school trip."
She smiled at the memory. I nodded.
"They were your favorite," I said.
Her eyes sparkled. "You remembered?"
"Of course."
She looked down shyly, her fingers brushing mine. "I always thought you didn't notice little things like that."
"I notice everything about you."
Her cheeks turned the color of strawberries.
We stopped at a small café that she loved. Pale mint walls, lace curtains, a little bell that chimed when we stepped inside.
She picked the window seat, naturally. She always liked the way the light fell there.
"I want the strawberry parfait," she said, already smiling as she opened the menu. "You want the same?"
"I'll have whatever you're having."
"You always say that," she giggled. "Then you eat half of mine."
"Only the parts with less cream."
She laughed again and reached across the table, resting her hand lightly over mine.
Her hand was warm. Small. Soft.
I didn't pull away.
We ate slowly. Talked softly.
She spoke about her friends, her dreams, a new show she wanted to watch together. Her voice was like melted sugar—gentle, sweet, sticking to every corner of my silence.
I nodded along, gave small smiles. My part in this was easy. My persona was well-practiced. Quiet. Attentive. Kind.
But her affection—it was never rehearsed. It came pouring out of her in waves.
"You know…" she said, stirring the last of her parfait. "Sometimes I think you're too perfect."
"I'm not."
"You are." She tilted her head. "You're kind. Patient. You never yell. You never lie. Sometimes it makes me wonder if… you're too good for me."
I looked at her, really looked. Her hair framed her cheeks like a painting. Her eyes were wide, warm, waiting.
"I'm not too good for anyone," I said softly. "I just like being with you."
She beamed.
Like I'd handed her a treasure.
We walked through the riverside path on the way home. The breeze tugged her dress and hair gently as she leaned against my side.
"Ren," she whispered, clinging to my sleeve. "Let's always stay like this. Just… sweet. Quiet. You and me."
"Okay."
"Even if we grow up and go different places, I'll follow you," she said. "You know that, right?"
I nodded.
She smiled again—happier now.
Like nothing else in the world mattered but this walk. This silence. My shoulder beneath her cheek.
And for a moment, I let myself wonder—
What would it be like to be the person she believed I was?
When we reached our street, she turned to me, cheeks pink again.
"Will you hold my hand until we reach my door?"
I took her hand in mine.
She held it tighter than usual. Like she didn't want to let go.
When we reached her door, she turned and kissed me on the cheek.
Not rushed.
Not flustered.
Just soft and slow and candy-sweet.
"Thank you for today," she whispered.
I nodded. "Thank you for inviting me."
She smiled like a girl who believed in fairy tales.
And walked inside, leaving the faint scent of peaches behind her.