After Honami-san slathered me with sunscreen until I was exhausted, I figured canceling the walk now would just be a waste of effort. So out we went.
"Mother, I thought I'd take a short stroll along the beach."
"Very well. Off you go."
"Yes, ma'am!"
"And take Tatsuya with you."
"!"
I understood Mother's concern, but bringing Onii-sama along hardly guaranteed safety. His magic potential was lower than mine, and though he trained, he was still just a middle-schooler.
"Miyuki-san, Tatsuya is your Guardian," Mother reminded me. "Tatsuya, accompany her."
"Understood."
The moment Onii-sama was roped in, my mood plummeted. A perfectly good walk, ruined by him…
Thanks to Honami-san's thorough sunscreen application, I could enjoy the sun without worry. The ordeal had felt miserable at the time, but skipping it would've left me scorched later. In the end, I owed her thanks.
My thoughts drifted to how pale my own skin was… and then, inevitably, to his darker complexion. I swallowed hard and fixed my gaze straight ahead.
Was he really following? I heard no footsteps, sensed no presence. Not that I could ever detect him anyway.
Still, if I turned, he'd be there. He was my Guardian, after all.
He became my Guardian when I was six. My first, and likely my last. He wasn't the son of the Yotsuba head's sister; he was the Guardian to the next head candidate—me. Should I ascend, he would spend his life as my shadow. Unless I released him. Guardians were bound for life, freed only by dismissal from their charge or extraordinary circumstances.
He followed me. He chased after me. I could never leave him. He could never escape me. I was the one who wouldn't let him go. He was the one trapped. I alone could return him to a normal middle-school life. He couldn't be a normal boy because I refused to release him. I didn't hate him. I just… couldn't handle him.
So why did I keep him chained to this cruel fate? No answer came. Whenever I tried to think about it, my mind simply… stopped.
I shook my head to banish the thought— And the next instant, Onii-sama's arms were around me. No—more precisely, he'd grabbed my wrist and yanked me into his embrace.
"L-let go!"
"No. Stay close to me."
Why was my face burning? Was it the first time I'd seen such a serious expression on him? Or because a boy my age was holding me?
Thankfully, I didn't have to dwell on it long. He wasn't embracing me. He was shielding me.
"Watch where you're goin', kid!"
He'd stopped me from colliding with the man. A hulking, dark-skinned soldier in a sloppy uniform loomed before us, griping.
They were the "Left-Behind Bloodline"—children abandoned when U.S. forces withdrew from Okinawa to Hawaii as the Twenty-Year War escalated.
To them, we were just kids. One of the men narrowed his eyes, lips curling into something that might have been a smile.
I never found out.
"Apologies aren't necessary. Turn around and go back the way you came. For everyone's sake."
A calm, mature voice—utterly unchildlike—froze the man's expression.
"The hell'd you say?"
A low, whispered snarl.
"You heard me."
A flat, emotionless retort. Murderous light flared in the man's eyes.
"Get on your knees and beg. Do it now, and I'll let you off with bruises."
"If you mean kowtow, it's 'forehead to the ground,' not 'head.'"
The next moment, without warning, the giant swung at Onii-sama. Only then did I realize—if he took the hit, I'd be caught in the backlash. I squeezed my eyes shut, frozen in place.
"What the—?!"
The man's shocked voice forced my eyes open. Onii-sama had caught the fist—one-handed against two.
"Not bad. I was holding back, but… guess this'll be fun."
"You sure? Past this point, jokes won't cut it."
He was taunting him.
Why provoke him?! He couldn't win in a fair fight. Any normal person would run. Forget his plan—I should escape alone.
My mind screamed it. My body refused to leave his back.
"Big talk for a damn brat!"
I only saw the outcome. I could only guess what happened. But one thing was certain: My brother had defeated that giant.
"Let's go."
He didn't spare a glance for the man groaning on the ground. He placed a hand on my arm and spoke. For a moment, I didn't realize the words were meant for me.
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