The morning after her confession felt strange.
Normally, Aoi would burst into my room, whining for me to wake up. But today, she quietly knocked on my door.
"Haruto… breakfast is ready."
Her voice was soft, shy. When I opened the door, she stood there, hands behind her back, looking more nervous than usual.
I expected things to feel awkward. But instead, when our eyes met, she smiled—the kind of smile that instantly made my chest feel lighter.
"Good morning," she said gently.
"…Good morning," I replied.
At the table, she had cooked my favorite—tamago-yaki, rolled omelet. Normally, Mom made breakfast, but today Aoi insisted. She placed the plate in front of me with a proud grin.
"See? I can take care of you too, you know."
I blinked. She rarely cooked, yet here she was, nervously waiting for my reaction. I took a bite. Sweet, warm, imperfect—but filled with effort.
"…It's good," I admitted.
Her entire face lit up, like a child being praised. That smile… I realized I'd do anything to see it again.
---
Later that day, as we walked home together, she hummed a song softly. Without thinking, she slipped her arm through mine.
I stiffened. "What if someone sees?"
"Then they'll just think we're really close siblings," she replied, leaning against me. "But to me… you're more than that."
Her words should've scared me. Instead, they warmed me.
As we passed by the park, memories stirred.
I remembered Aoi as a little girl, crying because she scraped her knee. I was the one who carried her home.
I remembered the time she failed a test, and I stayed up all night tutoring her until she smiled again.
I remembered the countless times she clung to my arm, laughing, pouting, or just being herself.
She had always been there. Not just as my sister… but as the one person who truly needed me.
And now… she loved me more than anyone else ever could.
For the first time, I asked myself seriously: Why shouldn't I love her back?
She wasn't just my sister anymore. She was Aoi—the girl who made my world brighter, the one who believed in me more than anyone else.
I glanced at her, still humming, still holding onto me. She looked up with curious eyes.
"What is it?" she asked.
I smiled faintly. "…Nothing. Just thinking that maybe… you're impossible to hate."
Her cheeks flushed pink, and she pressed herself closer to me.
And in that moment, I realized—accepting her wasn't just because I couldn't stand her tears.
It was because deep down… I wanted to love her too.