The seat-belt announcement prompted me to close the textbook file titled Reader: Modern History—a curriculum meant for magicians. As a brand-new middle-schooler, the material was a touch advanced, but that kept the boredom at bay.
The capsule seat's egg-shaped safety shield displayed a real-time feed of the southern island. The vivid greens and glittering sea made global cooling feel like something out of a storybook.
Yet it was undeniable fact. The document I'd just been reading said as much, and the lingering scars of the climate shift were still visible in everyday life.
Lost in such dreary thoughts, I barely registered the plane's approach to Naha Airport. The landing was so smooth I felt almost no vibration. I unfastened the ceremonial seat belt—more ritual than necessity—and opened the shield. I waited for Mother to emerge from her seat, then walked with her toward the exit.
A private family trip over summer break. For our household, "family" and "private" rarely coincided, so I was uncharacteristically giddy.
The one blemish: it wasn't just Mother and me. Onii-sama was coming, too.
Emerging from the members-only tea lounge in the arrivals lobby, I spotted Onii-sama waiting with our checked luggage. As I walked beside Mother, I glanced back over my shoulder. There he was, pushing the cart laden with our bags, face betraying not a flicker of discontent. As always… I didn't hate him. I just… couldn't read him.
Why did he accept being treated like a servant by his own family without protest? The question gnawed at me until our eyes met. He must have noticed my repeated glances.
"…Is something wrong?"
"Nothing at all."
"Then please stop staring. It's unpleasant!"
I knew, rationally, that my peeking had drawn his gaze. Yet all that spilled from my lips was petulance. I knew it was unfair. We were the ones treating him like staff; he hadn't asked for it. And still I vented my selfish irritation at him.
"My apologies."
He stopped, bowed toward me, then resumed following at a slightly greater distance. Why? That had been nothing but my own caprice…
I really was a horrible little girl. No wonder I found him so hard to be around.
This time we were staying at a brand-new villa in Onna Seragaki. Father had hastily arranged it because Mother disliked crowds. The funds used to purchase it, of course, came from marrying into the family. As ever, he seemed to believe love could be bought.
I shook my head lightly, banishing Father from my thoughts. Letting unpleasantness intrude on a vacation was simply foolish.
"Welcome, Madam. Miyuki-san, Tatsuya-kun—glad you both made it."
Waiting at the villa was Sakurai Honami-san, who had arrived ahead of us to clean and stock supplies. She was Mother's Guardian.
Five years earlier she had been an SP with the Metropolitan Police. There had apparently been quite the fuss when she resigned, but becoming Mother's Guardian had been decided long before she ever joined the force; the police stint was merely to master protection protocols.
She was a first-generation "Sakura" series Adjusted-Body magician, engineered for enhanced magical aptitude. Created in a lab toward the end of the Twenty-Year War, she had been purchased by the Yotsuba before she was even born.
Yet none of that bleak origin showed in her bright, no-nonsense demeanor. Beyond bodyguard duties, she handled every little detail of Mother's daily life. She claimed housekeeping suited her far better.
A Guardian never left her charge's side, yet Honami-san had come ahead—for local reconnaissance, and because Onii-sama had stayed with Mother and me. Still, I wished their roles had been reversed. Onii-sama couldn't possibly prepare living quarters, so it was unavoidable… but still.
"Come in, come in. I've chilled some barley tea. Or shall I brew green tea?"
"Thank you. Barley tea sounds perfect."
"Right away. Miyuki-san, Tatsuya-kun—barley tea for you as well?"
"Yes, thank you."
"Sorry to trouble you."
If I had one complaint about Honami-san, it was that she treated Onii-sama as Mother's son—as my brother.
"Tatsuya-kun, let me help with the bags."
"No need; this is nothing."
"It's fine, it's fine. I'm actually better at this sort of thing than you are."
Carrying might suit Onii-sama more, but unpacking and organizing were certainly Honami-san's forte. Still, those bags were his to carry. He should handle them. Did thinking that make me a terrible person?
"You must be tired, Tatsuya-kun. Leave the rest to me and go relax in your room."
"No, two people will be more efficient."
Why did it sting—watching Honami-san chat so warmly with him? Aunt sometimes spoke to Onii-sama the same way, and whenever Mother caught it, her face would darken. I felt the same prickling ache then, too. What was this feeling?
Lost in the question, I finished unpacking and opened the window to laze in the breeze.
"Excuse me. Oh, Miyuki-san, you've already finished unpacking?"
"Yes."
"Care for a little walk, then?"
"Good idea. Lounging indoors feels like a waste."
"Very well…"
Later, Honami-san insisted on applying sunscreen—and I'd rather forget the whole ordeal.
Why had she been so enthusiastic? Why had her hands felt… suggestive? Some things were better left unexamined, so I sealed the memory deep inside.
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