Chapter 1: A Familiar Predicament

It's miserable, you know? The way you are cleaning your room for someone you've never met.

I mean, wiping out dust and clutter is easy. But the thought of someone new seeing the way you live and decide—consciously or unconsciously—what kind of human being you are, is a pill that is too hard to swallow.

My father doesn’t think about things like that. He has the typical mindset of a parent—cleans because it’s practical, because people should live in neat spaces, because dust is unpleasant.

I clean because if I don’t, they’ll know me too quickly.

Ever since that incident happened two years ago, I have always feared unspoken judgments. I'd rather die laughing (which I rarely do) rather than receive internal criticisms behind their eyes that I could never defend.

“Don’t forget the corners,” he said, holding out a can of air freshener like it’s a holy relic.

“Yeah.”

And I literally did not forget every single corner of our two-storey home.

And for the past three hours, I kept pressing the nozzle of an air freshener named "Ocean Breeze" to every living corner of our house. The smell was aggressive, but I managed to spray it just enough to make it tolerable and avoid excessive concentration in one spot alone.

Afternoon crept in, and the vacuum cleaner was still running, and as I peered over the railings, my father was continuously flipping sofas and cushions below. Our house became a model home in just a few hours—we’ve never been this tidy before, not even when relatives visited.

"Kaede-kun, your room too." he calls out over the noise.

I gulped, turning around to my enclosure.

I gently nudged the white door, and the small opening alone was enough for me to see the truth I hid for sixteen years.

It's not messy, but the stench...

...it made me sigh in resignation.

It does really belong to a virgin 16 year old highschooler—and even though I convinced myself that it's fine, it's not fine—at least for outsiders.

I started by shoving things that might put my persona into embarrassment, changed bedsheets, swept the clutters on my study desk and wiped the windows and lamps. I put back some books into their respective shelves, light novels and mangas included.

The less “me” this room feels, the better.

I haven't met my stepsister yet but I have to avoid the stereotypes preemptively.

By the time I’m done, feverish footsteps close in from below, to the stairs, and now, behind me.

"Kaede, Kaede! They're almost here! Rehearse your greetings!"

Rehearse my greetings?

I looked at my father's drenched figure, and he's slightly out of breath after running a short lap upstairs.

Oh right, I need to be as emphatic as possible. I don't want to get scolded by that “Robots have more emotions than you!” stuff again.

"How?"

"I don't know! Just smile, okay? Look at me!"

He pointed at himself, and I did as what I'm told. Looking at myself force an expression I rarely wore seemed as ridiculous as teaching fishes how to climb a tree.

"Don't show your teeth while smiling! You're creeping me out!"

“Have you asked me how I am creeped out just by doing this? Ah, I would hate seeing myself in a mirror.”

"Just keep practicing, my son! I'm going to get a change of clothes! Gosh, I'm already stinky as hell!"

"Why don't you take a bath instead?"

"I must be the one greeting them!"

As he left to change outfits, I started rehearsing greetings under my breath.

“Nice to meet you, I'm Fujimiya Kaede.”

Ah, too stiff.

"Hello. Welcome to Fujimiya residence."

I think it's too formal.

"Hi, welcome to...uh." I scratched my head.

I mustn't just say 'hi'. It's too casual.

Every version feels wrong in my mouth. I’m not the kind of person who greets people warmly. I’m not even the kind of person who meets people, unless it’s unavoidable.

And yet, it matters. Because this time, there’s no undoing it. This is the first time I felt that this life is staged more than ever.

When the doorbell finally rang, the air in the house dropped. My father hasn't returned, and it looks like I would be the one breaking the walls and doing the welcoming ceremonies.

I rushed down the stairs, and even though the thought made me want to turn back, I refused. I'll just do this for the sake of both parties.

I never really thought of welcoming someone into my life again, let alone strangers that will become my family. And this door would be the catalyst of everything that will happen from then on.

I did some final touches on my hair and straightened my posture.

Holding the handle, I took a deep breath.

This will be fine, Kaede. Don't think too much. Think about positive thoughts.

With a gentle swipe, the door slid open and I smiled my most charming and welcoming smile.

I wasn't the first one to speak.

"We're here, uhm, you're Kaede-kun, right?"

"Yeah...welcome to Fujimiya residence..."

Asahina Misaki-san was standing a foot away from me, exactly as I expected—smiling, composed, with the gentle sort of beauty that makes you think she’s never been caught off guard.

“You look like the cooler version of Reiji-san! And those facial features, it's so unique!” she laughed, casually leaning closer to get a better look. “Tell me, what type of skincare routine do you use?”

“Washing my face every day with tap water.”

“Oh, fufufu. Did you hear that, Shiori-chan? Come over here~”

And when the girl behind her stepped forward, I stopped thinking about greetings entirely.

(Illustration here. Check the comment section for the link.)

"..."

I know her.

The same long ash-blonde hair that curled at the ends like a hesitant waterfall, the same defined shape of her face, the beautiful curves of her body—all of which I didn't have to memorize before.

Our eyes met.

I gulped.

There was something off about those grey pairs—they weren't as sharp as they used to before. Even her shoulders that propped overconfidence years ago sloped forward just slightly—it’s impossible to mistake.

But I’ve learned not to trust surface appearances. And that lesson came from the girl standing before me herself.

My grip on the handle tightened.

No, not just tight. My hands were shaking.

"Ah, eh...is there something wrong, Kaede-kun?" Misaki-san said, her hand halfway from reaching out.

That snapped me out of my trance.

"N...no, not at all."

I don't even know if I was stunned or terrified. All of those emotions I never felt since two years ago, they stood fresh.

"Hello, I'm Asahina Shiori. I'm looking forward to being in your care."

Her voice was hesitant, and the fact that she was grasping the hem of her black dress that revealed a bit more skin than usual was enough to back it up.

But I’m not looking at her like that.

I’m looking at her because she’s Asahina Shiori.

The girl who, two years ago, dismantled my life with a single false accusation. The girl who left my name in the gutter and walked away without looking back. The reason I stopped going to school, stopped trusting people, stopped speaking freely, and stopped expecting anyone to believe me over someone else.

She is the last creature in this universe that I wanted to see.

And the same universe played the most cruel card against me.

Because now, she was standing in my doorway, right in my house, as my new "little sister".

Wasn't it ruthless? All of the years you endured shame and isolation, and this was the reward I got?

Didn't I deserve any kindness? Considerations? At least some time to emotionally prepare myself?

And as I was about to fall to that darkness, my father's voice cut in.

"Oh, you're finally here, Misaki-san and Shiori-chan!"

His interference might as well have been my salvation.

“My my, it looks like Reiji-san really prepared for our arrival!” Misaki-san laughed softly, a hand covering her mouth in that polite, rehearsed way that people who are always on good terms with others tend to have.

No, I'm not being skeptical of her. By the way her eyes were cheerfully glancing at us, I can tell that it's genuine. I just expected that she would say that. It’s the default script when you’re a guest.

“Ahaha…well, we wanted to make sure you’d be comfortable,” my father said, scratching the back of his neck with that ‘I’m a good host, right?’ grin.

"I hope that we didn't cause too much panic..."

"Of course not! It's just we have to be considerate about our surroundings because you'll be in our care from now on. Am I right, Kaede-kun?"

With a nervous laugh, he nudged me slightly to the ribs.

He wanted me to say something, but I couldn't. If I opened my mouth now, there’s no telling what would come out.

Good thing that nodding is a great wordless response.

"And uh, let's not linger around here for longer. I really wanted to show you your new home. Kaede-kun, help them with their bags."

…Of course. Why not? Why not have me, the human embodiment of awkward silence, carry the belongings of the girl who detonated my life like a cheaply wired explosive?

“Let's go in, Shiori-chan. Pardon for our intrusion!”

Shiori clung to her white duffel tight enough to make me assume that those contained her personal belongings so I opted to take the grocery bag instead. Our hands didn't brush, but the proximity was enough to make me recoil.

“...Thanks,” she said softly.

Did she seriously say that?

Surprisingly, she did. It sounded too foreign for someone who only bragged about popularity framing others with crimes they never did.

Yes, her posture and expression might have softened, but for me, she's still the same person and the same Asahina Shiori that left me questioning if there was still a life to live after the things that she had done.

"You're welcome," I mumbled quietly, trying to act like her existence didn’t sting me.

I took Misaki-san's medium-sized suitcase next, causing her to smile warmly.

“Thank you, Kaede-kun. You’re so kind.”

Kind, sure. But it felt like she just complimented the corpse at a funeral.

My father, oblivious to the electric storm sparking between us, was already leading the way inside.

“Come on in! The living room’s all ready, and Kaede-kun already cleaned Shiori-chan’s room too!”

“Eh? Really?” Misaki-san glanced at me, amused. “That’s so sweet of you.”

“It's a small thing, I promise.”

Shiori’s gaze flickered across the living room, where the furniture was rearranged to maximum hospitality mode, and everything perfectly aligned.

For a moment, I thought I saw a faint twitch at the corner of her lips, like she wanted to say something but swallowed it back.

Good. Keep swallowing.

I set their bags down near the sofa.

My father and Misaki-san continued talking for a moment, until they agreed to have the four of us eat dinner sooner so we can start feeling like a ‘real’ family.

Family.

The word lodged in my throat like a dry piece of bread.

My father had no idea what he had just brought into our lives.

This wasn't a family.

This is just a time bomb waiting to explode.

But right now, it looks like my role is to prevent it from happening.

Because seeing Misaki-san and my father perfectly at ease, there's no way I would press the issue and not expect everything to fall apart.

So in return, I will still try to protect this little secret just to keep their smiles—even if it costs my sanity.