2- New Day, Different Place, Same Annoyance

Minori considered turning back as soon as the suitcase stopped, the wheel getting stuck between the crack in the pavement, earning an audible groan from the girl.

“If I turn back now, she’ll call me…” she muttered, “Either I deal with a crying diva or a deredere.”

She chose the latter.

The apartment in Shibuya was close to Bunkamura, so that was good. Mornings in the museums, nights at galleries or libraries, if any. But she had to get past what was ahead if she were to wake up in the penthouse without gagging. She also had to consider Shibuya itself. The apartment, which was taller than she was okay with, looked down upon her.

The city had people laughing on cue, vending machines beeping loudly like they were on life support. And as she stepped into, and later out of the cool elevator which smelled like it was going out on a date, she could already hear hurried, overexcited footsteps past the brown doors.

Akagi. Akagi Chihiro.

Right.

She, once again, considered turning around and blaming public transportation, but her fingers pressed down on the doorbell before she could follow through, and the door whipped open as if the doorbell dropped burnt food onto it.

Warm air split out first, then—

“MICCHAN!”

A blurring force slammed down at her, making her loosen the vice grip she had on the suitcase and letting out the first hint of surprise in years, a slight gasp, as she fell onto the ground with the raven-haired woman on top of her with a giddy grin. She absorbed the impact the way one pays taxes: unwillingly and without hope of appeal.

“Get off me, Akagi-san…” she gasps again. The woman always had a grip as strong as a grappler’s. Her unrelenting smile meant that she refused.

“Heck no,” she pouted, defiantly, “and I told you, call me onee-san! I’m not that old, dummy!”

Minori sighed as she hugged her back reluctantly, “Maybe, not mentally old….or physically for that matter…”

“Hey!” Akagi shot a playful glare, “That’s a good thing, means I haven’t lost my childlike wonder~”

“Not when you’re a mother. Hana doesn’t want a bad influence.”

Akagi huffed, “She’s doing fine under my great parenting, thank you very much.”

Minori sighed, forcing Akagi off of her, but still holding onto her sleeve. The woman was still as annoyingly energetic as ever. Shibuya might have been overwhelming, but Akagi Chihiro was worse. Her hair was curled again. The air was heavy on spices again. She coughed.

After all, she liked nothing in excess.

“Take your shoes off, take your shoes off—ah, you remember, good girl. Oh! I made food. You’ll eat. No arguments. I don’t care if you ate on the train.”

“I ate ramen this morning–”

“Doesn’t count,” Akagi shook her head, dragging Minori deeper into the apartment. It was blinding white with a glass facade, and the large windows offered a grand view of the bustling city down below; new lights, new colours, new noises, and thankfully no thumping upstairs because well…they were the highest in the apartment.

Silence.

Not the empty kind from Osaka.

This one was warmer. Lived in. The apartment lights were soft. A half-folded blanket lay abandoned on the couch. Music played faintly from somewhere deeper inside the apartment—something upbeat and embarrassingly cheerful.

Minori stood in the entryway for half a second too long.

Akagi noticed.

“…It’s been a while,” her aunt said, softer now. Just a little.

Minori nodded.

“Yeah.”

The softness lasted exactly three seconds.

“ANYWAYS!” Akagi half-yelled, “Wanna see your room?”

Minori shook her head. This was more than her asocial self could handle, but this was her aunt. And even though she wouldn’t want to admit it, their relationship was as great as spaghetti and meatballs are.

“Alright…” she mouthed, her voice slightly hoarse from misuse, “I need to get changed anyway…”

Akagi beamed, “Alrighty, then. You’ll be using your mama’s room. When my onee-chan was a tiny little brat—”

“—possibly more refined than you, considering how she used to be,” Minori smirked.

“Hmph!” Akagi looked away, slightly red, “Don’t act so proud; the only thing you guys share is your hair colour and your weird obsession for painting on paper rather than touching grass.”

Minori pouted as she turned left into the hallway, staring at a door which wasn’t willing to break eye contact anytime soon. Her suitcase stopped by her side, the rattling of wheels pausing, possibly for emotional tension in this fine moment.

A soft smile crossed her face.

Akagi looked at her, her red face returning to normal colour, her lips curling into a gentler arc.

“It’s good to see you again, Minori.”

“Yeah...”

The room smelled like old paint and dust.

Which was unfair, because dust wasn’t supposed to smell.

Maybe it was the dust that was making her chest so tight.

Or maybe it was the ramen causing acid reflux.

“Mom always told me not to touch her stuff.”

Akagi laughed, “Her protectiveness over her paint and brushes is like a cult leader to a holy relic.”

“And that’s bad?” Minori tilted her head, brushing some dust off the old canvases, setting her suitcase down with a huff. She staggered forward. Akagi whipped her hand and caught her by the scruff of her neck, and suddenly, Minori found her legs dangling like a helpless kitty.

“Whoa there, girlie.” Akagi shook her head, “You’re weaker than I remember.”

“Shut up,” Minori shot back, because she couldn’t think of a better alternative. After all, she was as egotistical as—

“Whoa…” Akagi gasped, “She actually kept the crappy drawing I drew her, even when she said it looked crappy.”

Minori’s face curled into an odd shape, as if smiling wasn’t part of her programming. “She does that. She did that with me; she said I wasn’t good enough, but that was her saying I could do better.”

Akagi rolled her eyes, picking up the yellowed sheet, “Idiot…” she pouted, “Onee-chan should’ve just said it… Are all you artists jigsaw puzzles?”

Minori shook her head, scoffing, “Easy for you to say; you have no filter. I hope Hana doesn’t learn from you.”

Akagi’s face grew redder, but her words were interrupted as she noticed Minori’s gaze travel to a peculiar paintbrush in the far back of one of the run-down, dusty shelves.

“That,” she said, “was something she went full-on yandere over.”

Minori took tentative steps, as if the ground was yelling at her to stop stepping on it. Maybe for a second, she could hear noises like that, too, or maybe it was the sleep deprivation. She held the brush in her hand, examining its black-and-silver design. The handle had a few symbols carved into the metal—創作

“Creation.” Minori read.

Akagi nodded, “It’s a weird one, but your mom was weird. So it suited her.” Akagi grinned. Minori rolled her eyes, choosing to ignore the remark bout her mom’s eccentricities despite knowing how she wasn’t wrong. It was hard to believe, but those two opposites were sisters after all.

“I’ll take care of it,” Minori said almost instinctively. It was like she found a daughter without even marrying. But then again, it wasn’t anything sentimental.

Or maybe it was.

“I’ll get food ready,” Akagi said. She swore she almost sighed. If she thought more, her white hair would turn grey.

“I’ll change, then.”