I immediately looked away.
“O-Out! You’re out!” she shouted. “That reaction—a sibling wouldn’t be embarrassed from being called that!” she exclaimed.
“I’m not embarrassed...”
“You are! How much do you think I’ve looked at your face?!”
“How should I know?! You sure you weren’t looking at someone else? We only just met a few days ago.”
“That’s not fair! That’s so, so, so unfair!” She stomped her feet as if she were a tantrum-throwing child, but I couldn’t look at her. It had absolutely nothing to do with my face being flushed, my heart racing, or me wanting her to call me “onii-chan” again. I had my own reason not to look at her that was completely separate from those reasons.
Yume was still grumbling, but it seemed that we’d made too much noise.
“Yume? You’re being awfully noisy,” Yuni-san called out from the bottom of the stairs—the voice of salvation to my present self.
“Time’s up,” I said with a triumphant grin. Yume replied with a growl.
“Well, I hope you learned your lesson about messing with me. You might’ve had a misunderstanding from all those mysteries you read, but you and I are built differently.” I tapped my temple, emphasizing my point.
Whether it was out of anger or frustration, Yume became even redder, and tears began to well up in her eyes. “You never used to say anything so mean to me!”
Don’t cry. That’s cheap. I fiddled with my bangs. I was starting to get uncomfortable again. Maybe I got a little carried away, I thought. For people like us, going after someone’s reading preferences was one of the most hurtful things we could do. It was like how the media would tear apart a person’s book collection just so they could say baseless things about them. Yeah, I guess I might’ve gone a little too far.
I sighed, reluctantly stretching out my right hand and patted her on the head like one would a child.
“Yeah, I’m a jerk. I’m sorry, onee—nee-san.”
It felt so nostalgic. Back then, whenever something happened, I used to look at Ayai’s shy face just like this, but Yume wasn’t shy anymore. Her body was trembling like a volcano that was about to erupt.
“I...” Yume began, trailing off.
“You?”
“I really hate how you can just apologize like that! Shitty onii-chan!” She spat out her new phrase and ran out of my room, kicking my tower of books over in the process and leaving me completely dumbfounded. The reaction she had was definitely not something that I had ever seen when we were dating.
“Jeez...” You’re not the only one. I really hated how you were so reserved yet so competitive, so mature yet so childish...and just when I’d finally forgotten about you, you showed me a face that I’d never seen before.
✦ ✦ ✦
In the end...
“Good morning, Mizuto-kun.”
“Good morning, Yume-san.”
We didn’t change what we called each other. In the first place, the rules made it so that the loser could only become the younger sibling once per loss, otherwise it would draw suspicion as to why one person was suddenly being called “onii-chan” or “onee-chan” by the other. But, I guess if something had changed, it’d have to be...
“Mizuto-kun, could you pass me the soy sauce?”
“Oh, yeah. Here you go, Yume-san.”
Our eyes met for an instant as I passed her the soy sauce, and we came to a mutual understanding without even having to exchange words. Although, if we had, it would have sounded like this:
“I will never be your little sister.”
“What a coincidence. I have no intention of ever becoming your little brother.”
This girl and I will never see eye to eye. What had happened between us in middle school was a mistake. It was nothing more than a folly of youth. That had become even clearer thanks to the events of yesterday.
We exchanged low kicks under the table while our parents continued their happy conversation, neither of them showing even the slightest indication that they noticed our fight. The two of us were the only ones who knew our past.
I was living with my mortal enemy, the person I hated most in my world. But even so...
“Yume-san, can you pass the soy sauce?”
“Sure, Mizuto-kun.”
We’d only called each other by our last names when we were dating, but ever since we broke up, we’ve been using each other’s first names. I couldn’t help but think that fate really has a sick sense of humor.