The morning was light, carrying a gust of air that smelled of dew. Spreading their wings, the birds glided around the neighborhood, feeling the air carrying them as if gravity were a farce.
"Is flying fun?"
Kazutora rested his head on one arm, a small frown tugging the corners of his brows. He paused, waiting as if the birds would open their beaks to answer. "You're noisy." His fingers tapped the windowsill, and the glass emitted a low thrum.
He added, "He doesn't like that."
A bird, small with shades of chocolate adorning its feathers, landed near his window.
A sparrow, he noted.
It ruffled its wings, its beak moving in effortless grace as it began to preen its feathers. Then, as if alerted by Kazutora's growing scowl, it tilted its head, hopping as it tapped the glass. The glass reverberated under the force of the beak, creating a low hum.
Kazutora's eyes widened, frozen like a deer caught in headlights.
He stilled, breathed shallow, and his ears tuned to every sound in the house. He closed his eyes and waited, his hearing sharpening as his vision darkened. Faint clattering of utensils. A soft click as the stove flickered to life. The sound of the stool scraping the floor.
Miyuki.
He knew these rhythms by heart. He mapped every footstep, memorized every creak in the hallway. This wasn't listening.
It was survival.
He exhaled, slumping to the floor.
Nothing stirred.
The sparrow chirped once, as if amused, and tapped the glass with growing frequency. The noise reverberated around his closed room like a persistent knock on the door. Kazutora shot the sparrow a deep glare as he scurried to his futon and dove under his comforter.
Kazutora stilled.
Then –footsteps.
Faint. Deliberate.
Heading towards him.
He shouldn't panic.
Even if there were two people in the house who had the same steps, he'd cling to the belief that it was her instead.
The door creaked open.
'Please be her.'
The room went still, and even the relentless tapping on the window stopped.
"Look, Tora-tan," came a gentle voice, "Someone's come to greet you."
Kazutora moved deeper, pretending to grumble. The voice laughed, and he felt as if warm water washed over him. A hand touched his shoulders through his comforter.
"I know you're awake."
Kazutora's brows twitched as her voice rang out, chiding, "You left the curtains open."
Kazutora's head peeked from his comforter, his lips pursed in a pout. "Nothing gets past you, Mii-nee."
She smiled, pinching his cheeks. "Good morning to you, too. Did you sleep well?"
Kazutora nodded grogily as his hands latched around her, pulling her in a tight embrace.
Kazutora nestled his head above her navel, his small hands clutching the fabric of her clothes. Miyuki hummed lightly, reciprocating his hug; her fingers traced the strands of his hair as she untied the braided strands. She brushed his hair with tenderness in her touch, smoothing out the tangled hair with practiced care.
"Done." She smiled sweetly, cupping the side of Kazutora's face as he sat up. "Are you ready for your first day?"
Kazutora averted his face as he grumbled, "I don't wanna go. School is boring."
Miyuki cupped her chin. "That's true." She paused, her eyes flickering between the sparrow and Kazutora, "But we'll go together, isn't that better?"
Kazutora's face fell, his posture sullen, "But Mii-nee, we have different schedules."
Miyuki patted his head, "That's fine! It means you can tell me about your day after class while we walk home. "
"Would you listen even if it's boring?"
"Of course."
Kazutora beamed, "I love you, Mii-nee!!"
Miyuki ruffled Kazutora's hair, "I love you too, Tora."
She stood up and walked towards the door. "Don't forget to arrange your futon. Get ready while I prepare breakfast."
Kazutora giggled as he saluted, "Will do!"
Kazutora hummed as he diligently fixed his futon, straightening the creases and arranging his comforter. Then his ears twitched as he heard the sounds of continuous chirping outside his window. His scowl became more pronounced as he stomped towards the window.
His fingers pointed at the sparrow accusingly, "You exposed me!" he hissed.
The sparrow chirped, shaking its head.
"You did! If you didn't, Mii-nee would've stayed longer and pampered me more." Kazutora's lip trembled, and he took a deep breath.
His sandy orbs glinted, "Listen, you do that one more time, I'll get mad like Father. You wouldn't like that, so don't tell on me."
Kazutora huffed and went to take a bath. The sparrow tilted its head and hopped away, feathers ruffled.
—
Kazutora walked towards the dining room. His steps were soft and deliberate, the kind where every sound was measured. He felt like a thief sneaking towards a treasure, except that he was a thief in his own home.
Kazutora shook his head, 'I'm a ninja in training.'
He clenched his fists as he moved forward, his pace increasing. Soon, he caught a sniff of a heartwarming aroma, and he walked with determination as he swallowed his saliva.
He followed the scent, and on the counter he could see a strand of umber hair. Kazutora's eyes sparkled, and a smile crept its way back to his face.
The sweet scent of butter filled the room, encouraging Kazutora to run. His steps grew in pace, and it became more lively and brisk, reverberating across the silent corridors.
For a brief moment, all that Kazutora wanted was to run towards his sister.
Ting!
Kazutora flinched.
His shoulder tensed, and the realization dawned on him like the sun's rays.
He shouldn't be loud.
Loud meant trouble.
He bit his lips as he walked forward, fighting the sting that prickled under his eyes. He inched towards Miyuki, and he buried his head against her back. His fingers closed, squeezing the pristine blouse she wore.
Her movements paused, caught off guard by the sudden weight on her back. She switched off the fire. Miyuki lowered her chopsticks before setting her hands on Kazutora's shoulders. Her hands moved up, tracing his scalp as she took 3 strands of hair. Gently, her fingers twisted the strands above, braiding his hair.
"Wouldn't it be easier if I weren't here?"
His voice came out in a soft muffle like a voice underwater.
Her amber orbs softened, and slowly she lowered her foot, the stool quietly scraping the floor. As her feet meet the ground, she bends her knees to meet Kazutora's height.
Kazutora's closed palms covered his face as he continued, "You wouldn't have to take care of me if I weren't around.."
"Kazutora." She called his name, her voice was calm yet stern. Kazutora's breath hitched, and he peeked out of his fingers, lowering his hands.
"Don't echo what others say." Her hands extended to Kazutora's face, her thumb wiping the stray tears that filled his eyes.
She bumped her head to his, "You're not a bother, Tora-tan, not ever, okay?"
Kazutora's vision was blurry, yet his sandy eyes met hers. Her eyes were warm, soft like honey with a tint of orange. They were inviting, and Kazutora felt his breath steady like a ship that passed the storm.
Kazutora nodded as he leaned into her touch.
Miyuki smiled, ruffling his hair, "Let's go eat."
Miyuki accompanied Kazutora to the table, then she lowered her other hand, which was holding a plate, and laid it on the table. Kazutora sat on his seat patiently, his eyes trailing the fragrant vapor as Miyuki continued to set the table.
From the corner of his eye, he saw two plates set to the side and covered with cling wrap. Kazutora curled his lip as he averted his eyes, deciding that the windows were more interesting than the table.
He watched as the clouds moved and changed shape, listened to the chirping of the birds and the rustling of the leaves, and wondered when he'd awaken his powers.
"You look like a sad pancake, Tora." Her amber eyes scanned Kazutora, and she queried, "What's wrong?"
Kazutora smiled as he shook his head.
Miyuki sat. He stared at her, waiting for the lights to turn green. Her lips curved in a small smile, and together they clapped their palms, "Itadakimasu!"
Kazutora eagerly took his chopsticks and began to eat his food. Miyuki silently watched him, and her smile grew, "Eat a lot, Tora-tan~!"
Breakfast was quiet, but Kazutora didn't mind. Mornings like this, with Miyuki beside him, didn't happen often.
Kazutora's eyes gazed at his sister, and he noted how cleanly she ate. Her posture was rigid but straight, like a pole. Kazutora shifted in his seat, sitting a little straighter. His eyes lingered, and he wondered if her back wasn't tired from maintaining the posture. Gradually, Kazutora's back curved as if bending under pressure.
'Sitting upright was tiring,' he concluded.
"Nee-chan, don't you think that's," Kazutora paused, pursing his lips as his brows creased in worry, "..too sweet?"
He remembered how she once said that everyone's taste buds were different, which was the reason why some tolerated spice better than others.
Kazutora grimaced as he stared at his sister's cup.
The cup of strawberry milk had a layer of sugar on top.
Miyuki paused, her teaspoon filled with sugar hovered above the cup. She was planning to add more. Miyuki smiled, tilting her teaspoon.
Kazutora watched in horror as the fine granules piled up like snow.
Then she dipped her teaspoon into the cup, her hands rotating clockwise as she stirred the mixture. Then, with practiced ease, she held the cup and drank it.
"It's sweet enough."
Kazutora laughed dryly, "As long as you like it, Mii-nee!"
—
Miyuki waited at the front door, her hands tracing the mahogany wood. Her amber eyes were distant like a fog that drained the sky's color. Her ear twitched as she heard Kazutora's approaching footsteps.
She fixed her posture and looked in Kazutora's direction.
He wore a white collared shirt underneath his blue V-neck sweater. The school they were going to didn't have an assigned uniform, still Miyuki favored their semi-formal attire.
Miyuki tilted her head in thought. As she scanned his clothes, she realized how similar their outfits were. If Kazutora wore a skirt, anyone would've mistaken them for twins.
'..Maybe not.'
She was still two heads taller than him, their eyes were in different shades, her hair was longer, and her moles were placed differently.
She handed him his lunchbox, and he took it, carefully arranging it in his bag.
Her eyes drifted to his shoes. Miyuki noticed how Kazutora's laces were messy, the type that could warrant an accident if left alone.
She knelt before Kazutora, brushing the dust that had settled on his shoes.
"Do you know what laces are for?"
He tilted his head, "To keep your shoes on?"
Miyuki smiled. "That too, but it's also a promise."
Kazutora blinked, mouth slightly parted. "A promise..?"
"Between the ground and the sky," she said, holding onto the ends of his laces. "One to keep you steady and one to catch you when you fall." She pinched the laces in two hoops.
Her hands were slow and stable as she looped the hoops together. "The ground loves to play tricks on people who aren't ready." She pulled the laces together, finishing the first knot.
Kazutora leaned closer, "The sky lifts me?"
She hummed affirmatively, "The laces are the sign of their promise, so that the ground wouldn't play its pranks and the sky will continue to support you."
Kazutora tilted his head, "Why does the sky help me?"
Miyuki grinned, "The sky is like a mother, it's fond of children."
Kazutora giggled. "So I'm a child of the skies?"
Miyuki laughed, and she nodded.
"But Mii-nee, what if I'm older?"
"Nothing will change." She shot him a soft smile. "Everyone is a child of the skies."
She guided his hands next. His fingers were stiff, unsure, but she didn't scold, just adjusted them with her own. She chuckled as she watched his focused expression, which was too endearing to ignore.
When he finally made a wonky bow after several tries, she beamed. "There! You made your promise."
"What if the laces become loose?"
"Then you can tie them again."
"Wouldn't that break the promise?"
Miyuki shook her head. "The fact that you still try to tie your laces means that you're trying to keep the promise."
She brushed the dust off her skirt as she stood up, and she extended her hand towards Kazutora. Kazutora smiled as his tiny hands found shelter in hers. Kazutora stood up while Miyuki opened the door.
Miyuki stood in the middle, her amber eyes cast on the long hallways. Her mouth opened, then closed; she was wavering like a kite in a storm. Her mouth twitched as her voice echoed,
"Ittekimasu."
Kazutora tilted his head in confusion. Then he turned his head back to the corridors, wondering why Miyuki was unmoving like a statue. The silence stretched like rubber.
Kazutora watched as Miyuki's lip creased,
'Maybe nee-chan wants to enjoy the morning air?'
Kazutora tugged the corner of Miyuki's bag. Miyuki's eyes flicked towards him. She showed an illegible smile as she closed the door.
Kazutora held her hand tighter as they walked out of the neighborhood. "Mii-nee, what should I do in class?"
Miyuki tilted her head. "What do you mean?"
Kazutora fiddled with his shirt as he gathered his resolve.
"I want to be like you," he declared.
Miyuki's fingers twitched as she hid her arms under her sleeves. Her brows creased as she hesitated to ask.
Kazutora caught her movement, his eyes sparkled, and he continued, "You're so strong, Mii-nee. I want to be strong like you."
Miyuki paused, her eyes lingered on Kazutora's frame. "You don't have to be like me, Tora. You're fine the way you are," she chided.
Then she hummed, her hand cupping her chin in thought, "You should behave and have fun in class."
"..That's all?" He asked, skeptical.
Miyuki nodded. She paused, and an idea struck her like a spark. She added, "Maybe make a lot of friends too."
"Do you have a lot of friends, Mii-nee?" He eagerly asked, his tone becoming lively.
Miyuki smiled as she put her index finger near her mouth, "It's a secret."
Kazutora grinned, "I'm gonna make more friends than you, Mii-nee!" he declared.
Miyuki nudged his hat, "You promise to tell me all about it?"
"Promise!"
Kazutora paused as he tugged her sleeve, "But Mii-nee, let's walk slowly, so it lasts longer."
Miyuki chuckled, "Alright. But only if we don't miss the bell."
Kazutora nodded, swinging their hands between them as they walked.
The morning sun glinted off the rooftops, gentle like a mother's caress.
Kazutora tightened his grip.
Everything was quieter with her.
Softer.
Warmer.