The day I met my sister?

The day I met my sister? (1)

I still remember that day.
The day I fell in love with her.
And the day I lost her.

I was 5 at the time, and my sister was 16. It was a day just like any other—warm, with the sun lazily hanging in the sky, casting long shadows over the playground. We had always been close, my sister and I, but back then, I never thought much about it. She was simply my sister, my world, and my constant companion.

That day, we were playing in the sandbox like we usually did, surrounded by children’s laughter and the squeaks of swings in motion. I had been struggling, once again, to make a sandcastle. No matter how hard I tried, the sand always crumbled. I was almost finished, and then… my castle collapsed.

Frustration washed over me. My young mind couldn’t handle it, and the tears flowed freely. As the other kids continued their games, I sat there crying, feeling defeated.

And then she came, like a soft breeze that seemed to quiet everything else around me. My sister, with her snowy white hair gently tucked behind her ear, smiled as she squatted beside me. Her hair shimmered under the sunlight, and for a moment, I could’ve sworn it was glowing. Her small hands reached out to help me, brushing over the sand, smoothing it where my clumsy fingers had failed.

I stopped crying. My little heart raced, not with frustration anymore, but with something new—something warm.

She looked up at me, her eyes full of kindness, and said, "Don't give up. I'll help you finish it."

I didn't need her to say anything more. For the first time, I wasn't just playing around. I was serious. Determined. I picked up the sand carefully, mimicking her gentle movements. My focus was unwavering, my eyes locked on the small pile of grains that would soon form the final piece of our sandcastle.

With one last scoop, I gingerly placed it atop the structure.

My heart swelled with pride. I stood up, grinning from ear to ear, ready to show her how happy I was.

"A star."

That’s what I saw when I looked at her. A star. She was smiling so brightly, the sunlight catching her face in a way that made her glow. At that moment, I knew—this was the moment I fell in love with her.

"Sister, you're so pretty!" I blurted out without thinking.

Her cheeks flushed a soft pink as she laughed, embarrassed. "Stop teasing me!" she said, gently tapping my arm.

But I wasn’t teasing. She was beautiful—like a star in the night sky, untouchable, dazzling.

"Sister, I want to marry someone just like you someday!" I declared with all the seriousness a 5-year-old could muster.

Her laughter rang out again, light and carefree. "What are you even talking about?" she giggled, her pearly eyes closing in amusement. She always laughed with her whole heart, and it was a sound I could never forget.

But then… something changed.

Suddenly, everything around me started to distort. Her voice, once so clear, began to warp, stretching and bending unnaturally. My vision blurred, and I felt myself being pulled back—farther and farther away from her, as if someone was tugging me out of that perfect moment.

I wanted to scream, to reach out for her, but the world around me wouldn’t stop spinning. Then I heard it—the blaring sound of a truck horn. It grew louder and louder, drowning out everything else. My heart sank as panic gripped me.

"Wah!"

I jolted awake, gasping for air, my body covered in cold sweat. My heart was racing, pounding painfully in my chest.

I wasn’t on that playground anymore. I was in the middle of class. The familiar rows of desks and the dull murmurs of my classmates brought me back to reality. Everyone was staring at me, bewildered.

My homeroom teacher raised an eyebrow, her voice tinged with amusement. "Sleeping in class again, are we?"

The room erupted in laughter as I quickly sat back down, trying to shake off the lingering haze of the nightmare.

I glanced out the window, my hand resting on my chin as I tried to calm my breathing. It was a bright, sunny day—the kind of day my sister would’ve loved. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves outside, and a bird flew by, soaring effortlessly across the sky. Watching it gave me a sense of peace, but only for a moment. The memories still weighed on me.

That was the day I lost her. She died right after we left the playground, hit by a truck on our way home. I never forgot the sound of that horn.

Now, here I am—just another average 16-year-old boy, a student at Mimori High School. It's been years since that day, but I still carry it with me, a dull ache that never fully fades.

"Before we continue with the next material, let's welcome our new transfer student!" my teacher announced, breaking me out of my thoughts. "Please come in, Rei-chan."

I didn't bother paying attention. New students came and went all the time. I yawned, rubbing my eyes. The classroom buzzed with excitement, whispers spreading like wildfire.

"Wow, she's so pretty!" someone exclaimed.

Curiosity got the better of me, and I lazily glanced toward the front of the room, not expecting much. But the moment I laid eyes on her, my heart stopped. My body froze.

That hair. Those eyes. That smile.

I shot up from my seat, my mouth moving before I could even think.

"SISTER?!"

The entire classroom fell silent. Every head turned to look at me in shock.

"SIT DOWN ALREADY!" my teacher shouted, flustered, before throwing a duster at my forehead.