Disclaimer: I do not own Ore no Imōto ga Konna ni Kawaii Wake ga Nai in any conceivable way. This is a work of fan-made fiction. Obviously.

Forward: This is an attempt to fix the stain that was put on this fantastic series. To show the franchise, network, and the Japanese government that I know better. Sadly, it's come to my attention that law had forced the author's hand in the end his series the way he did—I feel nothing but sadness for Fushimi Tsukasa.

This work takes place after the events of the Season 2 finale, and is not an adaptation of the light novel series.

I

My Brother Can't Know I Miss Him!

Shortly after my sixteenth birthday, Kyousuke was gone.

The boy I'd gotten to know and love only over the last two years was off to university. It was funny to think of him as an adult, but he was nineteen—Mr. Kousaka had a bit of a ring to it. Funnily enough, Kyousuke followed that creepy Miura Gennosuke (I'm so glad I only met him the once; I had only met him once, right?) into video game design and development. It seemed I made a lasting impression with my "eroge." You know that's all math, right? I'd reminded him; he only laughed and claimed he'd gotten a decent grasp on math, the liar. Before he climbed into Otou-san's car, my brother promised to call or text me, daily. That there wouldn't be a difference with the communication that he promised me. No more Cold Wars.

I'm not quite sure what happened.

It started as promised, a call every night, a text to ask how I was and how summer break was going. When my high school's first year, second trimester came around, we understandably started to lose touch. I know my work load was crazy; I barely found time for my eroge habit with my studies and track practice and modeling. He's told me about his course load once, but it seemed so trivial I suppose I would have had to experience it to understand. But, as Summer turned to Autumn, I started getting fewer and fewer texts. Fewer phone calls. Soon, he was calling me once a week. Then, two weeks. An email once in a while.

Things kind of just...stopped.

...shall we end it here, as promised?

I always get tired when I think of that day, now. Well, the end of our pseudo-wedding, anyway. It used to make my heart flutter: the pair of us dressed for a proper wedding. A beautiful, flowing wedding gown for me. A handsome white suite and soft blue tie for him. We were really cute; that image still makes me smile like an idiot, even now. When I remember our kiss, I melt a little inside sometimes giggling like a pervert with glazed-over eyes. It was my first. I'm so happy it was Kyousuke!

But, that promise I mentioned...

That's what made me oppressively tired. Like someone threw a futon on me and I just... Bleh.

Often times, think about why I had Kyousuke and I make that promise; I'm pretty sure that's the reason he stopped talking to me. ...I was scared, I think. Terrified. I mean, what if Okaa-san had found out? Or, better yet, what would have Otou-san done to Kyousuke when he discovered us? At the least, Kyousuke would have been thrown out, disowned by our father; Otou-san'd try to bar me from seeing him. I could have gotten around that easily, though. No, it was the unknown that had me petrified. I remember what Kyousuke's face looked like after he claimed responsibility for my R18 Love With Little Sister! disk hidden in that Stardust✩Witch Meruru DVD case.

I'd also thought about our ties with our friends. Kanako might have understood, I think; her sister did write some pretty raunchy doujinshi. Ayase would have tried to kill Kyousuke to protect me—though, I wonder what she'd think of me for saying yes to him, having those feelings for him? In the end, I feel that, while not condoning it, Ayase would accept it because I was happy. My brother and I had been grateful when Ruri and Saori had come to support us, but I had an idea that they'd find nothing expressly wrong with us. They'd fought tooth and nail to see it through, so why wouldn't they be ok with it? They were confused when we broke the news to them that day we all gathered to meet the new girl, Kishimajo (her Internet handle). Luckily, she'd missed her train and arrived forty minutes after us. We—no, Kyousuke thought it was best to not alienate the new girl. In the end, Saori and Kuroneko said they understood, but I couldn't really read their expressions. Honestly, it was probably why the entire mood of the meeting was sour by the time Kishimajo arrived. And the new girl's subsequent disinterest in meeting back up again.

There were other considerations, of course. We couldn't have gotten legally married, and that was something that I'd wanted since I was a little girl: a massive wedding with hundreds of people and flowing white gown and a huge cake and—it wouldn't have ever happened. That fantasy only ever had Kyousuke in it, and the thought of another man taking his place just served to piss me off. Even when I was a little girl, I'd put his face on the groom's body. And then there was... Well, I'd wanted...children. I don't know how I thought that would happen when I was a little girl, but as I started to explore my eroge the image of Kyousuke...

Of my brother...

O-on t-top of...

Gah! The things I wanted from my own brother! They were indecent to even think let alone say, but I wanted them all the same. Whenever I thought about him, late at night, a heat would pool at the nexus of my hips and I had to use every ounce of power to resist touching myself. But, I would trembled with pleasure when I would rub my thighs together; I let myself have that much. Once we were no longer lovers (heh, we didn't even understand the word we were so ready to use), my will against the forbidden started to decay. Pictures of things I wanted most, things a sister shouldn't ever want of her brother, flooded my mind and drowned my resolve in need. He touched me...kissed me...did things to me I'm too embarrassed to admit even to myself sober. I felt drunk at those times, not that I knew what being drunk was like. We went the distance. We broke barriers. In the end, I touched myself regularly to my fantasies. I'd rush my eroge sometimes just to replace the protagonist with Kyousuke and the heroine with myself during the intimate animation; when he would lay with the heroine, Kyousuke would take me in the same fashion.

Ah... Around now, my face and neck would be flushed, my breath short, and my eyes distant—Kuroneko called me out on it once and I almost had to kill her because I was so embarrassment. I wonder if I'm sick? I don't think I am. I wouldn't see a doctor either way, but I am curious.

But, shortly after the fantasies, tingling, and twitching faded away, I was always left exhausted and alone. I wasn't satisfied, normally. I'd just have that futon laid on me and I would let it happen. I'd rather bask in the afterglow, though I'm sure thats the truth with anyone.

There wasn't any way in hell that we were going to be regular siblings again. What was I thinking?

I thought I was doing the right thing, I guess. He'd broken so many hearts to tell me how he felt. Ruri, Ayase, Kanako... Even his friend, the plain gir— ...Manami. He was without his closest childhood friend, now. Manami turned out to be his sister in the end (emotionally, that is) and that wasn't enough for her. I think I would have felt the same—right now, I'd blush uncontrollably at how childish I'd been flaunting our relationship in her face; gueh, too embarrassing. After she and I kicked the absolute shit out of one another, Manami called us disgusting and she was gone. He did all of that...for me.

So—

...why doesn't he call me anymore?

He's seeing someone.

The thought was like a hydrogen bomb that shook my consciousness for a moment. Had it been any other time, it would have been ok. But, when do things happen when you want them, right? It couldn't have come the worst time, honestly.

There was a shout. A command, maybe? It was so far away that it made nonsense to me.

Girls around me exploded off of their starting positions a second faster than I could process the situation. It was then I understood what that shouting was: the starting mark. (Holy shit; I'm at track.) I wasn't even prepared to launch myself down the track. It was stupid of me to do this, but in a sloppy attempt to recover, I put all of my power into my legs. Normally, I would have waited diligently for the starting mark, keeping my body at the ready. I'd been too relaxed, lost in that sudden and terrible epiphany. That power surged through my muscles and into my ankle as I was trying to set it up for a proper takeoff. It forced my left foot (my starting foot) to roll outward with all my strength. It's a great way to hurt yourself, you should try it.

It didn't even take a second for me to find myself looking up at the sun. The pain came on just as I came to a stop. White hot fire blasted its way up my shin and calf and into my heel and the soul of my foot. By some feet of physical impossibilities I can't explain, found myself four meters down the track, sprawled out across the rubbery ground. I'm pretty sure that's just short of the 50m I was supposed to sprint.

That's what I get for daydreaming.

Faces clouded my vision, casting harsh shadows across me that flickered striking sunbeams into my eyes as they shifted and moved—it started to piss me off. Thinking about it, I hurt a lot, so pain mixed with disorienting light wasn't helping my mood. It was all too surreal, though. I could hear their whispers: She wasn't supposed to spill like that. She was Kirino, the Kirino. She didn't fall. She never got hurt because she was always on top of her game. What happened? Someone must of pushed her. I'm not one to brag but I'd already made quite a name for myself at the high school; some of the students from my old middle school came to the same campus and my popularity exploded like an algae bloom in the middle of August.

The more people stood over me, the more pissed I got.

"Damnit! Is someone going to help me up or what?" I snapped.

They scrambled to get me to my feet after that. Being popular has its perks.

Some girls helped me to the infirmary and I got my ankle iced and wrapped. No broken bones, just a badly sprained ankle. I was embarrassed and didn't really talk. More so huffed. They understood, though, and wished me well before heading back to practice. I was glad that most of the school had cleared out by then and the boys hadn't started swarming me with their disgusting, unwanted affection.

"Kirino?" A familiar face stuck her head around the door frame to look for me.

Aragaki Ayase was beautiful. Her hair was dark and had a blue tinge to it; the created contrast her dark hair and pearl white skin was something to envy. And her eyes: they were as dark as her hair, graced with the same dark-blue tint. Sometimes, when I'm alone, I gape at the idea that Kyousuke rejected her. ...Well, she had her violent times, and that would be enough to chase anyone away. Honestly, though, my brother wasn't so shallow as to solely like someone on their looks—not that he wasn't attracted to pretty girls like Ayase. I mean, he'd confessed how beautiful he thought I was constantly when we were dating—but...he'd grown a fondness for her. I would hate her a little forever because of that.

Hey, friends can hate friends for little things like that!

"Kirino," she muttered in relief, stepping out into full view.

That body! Something else to be jealous of. Ayase had turned sixteen a month or so before I had, and was already growing into her adult figure. Where before we were of the same modest bust and measurements (as womanly as we already were for young, teenage girls), Ayase had become a bit more shapely than I: A larger bust with a slim waist and an appropriate pair of hips to match. Nothing over the top, but the ideal size and shape in every detail. I hadn't realized it until, once when we're at a shoot about a month before, she (quite embarrassed, I might add) informed me that we weren't able to trade clothes anymore. Her breasts, those curves, that face and voice... Why did Kyousuke say no to that?

...Why'd he say yes to me?

"Are you ok?" Ayase asked, her hand hovering close her lips in worry. She was so cute almost all the time; you know, when she wasn't a psychopath threatening to kill people with that blank, intense stare. She sat down in a chair next to the bed and frowned at my bandaged ankle. After a moment, she looked up at me and took my hand into hers. "How'd it happen?"

It took me a long moment to reply.

Tell the truth? Or lie? A small part of me wanted to lie and sweep it all underneath the rug. It was only a fraction of me that wanted to, and the remaining whole crushed the opposition with a healthy dose of self loathing. Ayase deserved better than lies, because it seemed her family life was full of them. The truth it was, then. I don't know how I got to telling the truth so often, but it was a habit I wanted to reinforce. Maybe it was Kyousuke who got me started; I know that he would give me a proud smile whenever I would speak the truth.

But, the truth made me tired. I thought I was tired before when I'd hurt myself, but that oppressive futon returned and draped itself over me. I felt my shoulder slump a little, my eyelids becoming weighted. All of my troubles seemed to compound into a single feeling: overwhelming and domineering exhaustion. It wasn't fair. Thinking of Kyousuke used to bring me so much happiness. When did he make me so... I can't even think of a proper word for it. Not depressed—I'm fucking Kousaka Kirino. Kousaka Kirino never gets depressed. The absence of the proper word in my vocabulary started to piss me off. There had to be a word for what I was feeling. I longed for him. If I could, I'd have him sitting where Ayase was, holding my hand and looking at me with those dark eyes and that handsome smile. My heart fluttered at the thought.

Damn... I miss him.

The flutter disappeared.

"I was distracted," I admitted. That was the truth. Not the whole truth. But the truth.

"This isn't like you, Kirino," my best friend said softly. She bit her lip and chewed for a moment in thought. Ayase was always so worried about me. "Is something wrong?"

Do I tell her the rest of the truth? I probably should. I remember the last time I tried to lie, and I was already never good at it. She also knew that I'd gotten closer to Kyousuke and that we were as close as normal siblings could get, despite how much of a siscon pervert she claimed him to be. Not that I was any better with my brocon fantasies. So, if I told her the truth (with the right wording) it wouldn't be too weird. Right? Just insinuate that I missed him as a sister. It was the truth without the entire package of jumbled emotions attached.

Just a little sister missing her big brother.

What a fucking lie.

"I miss Kyousuke," I murmured, looking down at my empty hand resting on my lap. Simple and straight to the point. Not that I want to talk to her about it.

Ayase's expression changed slightly. The concern was there, but she'd adopted a sorrowful look that said she understood. Well, I knew she did. Even after she said goodbye, I could see that he was on her mind a lot. We didn't sit too far away from one another in class, and when the lessons became slow, I'd watch her slip away and paint that sad look on her pretty face. It created a strange problem for her: the boys in class would swarm her desk during breaks to see if she were alright, to which she would make some excuse as to what she was thinking. They did the same to me, but I wasn't so pleasant with them: expletives were often used, as well as the threat of violence if my acidic gaze didn't set them straight; they kept coming back, though, because boys are stupidly masochistic. When I would finally beat the horde back, I always found myself wanting to shout at her to stop thinking of my brother—he was mine and no one else's. But, she couldn't know that.

She squeezed my hand. "Doesn't he call? I thought he said he would keep in contact."

"He... I..." The world felt suddenly heavier.

I felt weird. My throat choked up, and my eyes burned with sudden and unwanted tears. I had to suppress a swelling sob that threatened to escape my mouth. I rubbed them away angrily, sucking in a harsh breath to swallow that lump down. Something blistered under my skin and boiled up inside me. I was angry in record time. How could Kyousuke do this to me? Make me choke up in front of my friends and force me to sidestep their questions? Make me so absent minded that I hurt myself doing what I love? Running was supposed to be an escape for me, and Kyousuke was butting into it. The tears failed to stop and started running down my cheeks; the embarrassment made me grit my teeth added fuel to the growing bonfire. My body shudder with rage. I wanted to beat him to death in that one instant. I don't even understand how I got so angry. It just happened; I hadn't ever thought ill of him once until then.

Ayase squeezed my hand again, affectionately miserable, bringing me back. Oh, God, I hoped she couldn't see what I really felt.

I forced myself to calm down. "I haven't heard from him in three weeks."

"What?" Ayase looked like she hadn't heard me correctly, tilting her head a little. Her brow knitted itself in confusion, trying to work out what I said. "But, he said he'd call you everyday. Or text you. Or something."

"He won't respond to me," I said looking back at my hand in her's.

The girl pulled her hand away, sitting straight up. It was so sudden that it made me jump slightly. I snapped my eyes back to her's. She set me off kilter for a moment. That anguished face was gone, replaced by righteous anger. "He hasn't talked to you at all? No call, no text, no nothing?"

I eyed her strangely. What had gotten into her?

"He calls my parents every Friday to tell them he's alive and hangs up a minute later." I could feel my own anger welling up inside me again. As I spoke, I felt myself begin to tremble. Had I been this angry at him all along and just now realized it? It felt like it from the ferocity of my emotion. "When my mother asks if he wants to talk to me, he gives some lame-ass excuse and hangs up. The entire call lasts a minute! It really pissed me off!"

Really pisses me off seems a little tame in retrospect.

Ayase sat rigidly, hands clasped to fists and pressed into her lap. She'd crossed into a strange expression of fury that I hadn't quite seen before. Perhaps I had when she saw my "discomfort" listening to boys speak about their "perverted" eroge. When she would become deathly angry with Kyousuke, normally over my purity, her face was slacken and her eyes would glaze over. I'd thought I'd seen all of her expressions of wrath, but I couldn't describe this one. "Kirino. I'm sorry, but I have to go. I will can your parents so that they may pick you up, ok?"

Ayase's response extinguished the indignant flare in me almost immediately.

I was suddenly scare for Kyousuke.

"O-oh. Okay."

I watched her with confusion as my friend stood and left. When I was alone, even with the nurse and school physician having taken a break, I cried. Out of frustration. Out of anger. Out of loneliness. Out of heartache.

My father picked me up within the hour.

The drive was short and quiet. I was given a crutch at the infirmary and Otou-san had helped me down the the flight of stairs to get me outside, but he didn't speak. His eyes looked strange, though, as if that hard samurai that ruled our house with an iron fist had emotions that I was unaware of. When we arrived home, and he was helping me up, he spoke.

"I am pleased that you are alight, Kirino."

I didn't know what to say or do, so I nodded and followed him inside.

Okaa-san poured her love and worry onto me, which felt like a waterfall compared to the single rain drop of silent, stoic concern my father had expressed. My mother fixed me some of my favorite foods that night to try and make me feel better. After dinner, Otou-san helped me into my room and saw that I was alright before leaving me to myself.

As the afternoon turned to night, I allowed myself to I lie on my bed without purpose, clutching my pillowed dolls to my chest. I was exhausted. I hadn't cried like I had in the infirmary in some time. The exhaustion that came with thoughts of Kyousuke was set deep into my heart. I just didn't want to move or talk. Around this time, I'd be on the phone with Kanako or Ayase talking about the school gossip. Maybe, I'd be talking to Kuroneko and arguing with her over her terrible taste in anime and manga fandoms. Maybe Saori about new releases or good eroge to look for. On the rare occasion that I wasn't on the phone, I'd be face deep in one of the few new eroge I'd bought not too long ago (face drooling and knees rubbing together; and I say I'm not a pervert); I still used Kyousuke's name for deliveries, not so much out of necessity as for nostalgia. Not tonight. I was far too... Bleh.

I closed my eyes. Even with the futon draped over me, I allowed myself to float where my consciousness took me. I set my mind adrift to find peace. I started thinking of—

"Brd-rd-rd!"

Vrrr-vrrr.

My phone range, doing it's vibrating dance on my nightstand. I was too tired to reach for it, but it kept ringing. Ring, ring, ring, ring, ring. It felt like the longest missed call in the world. Just stop already. It did what I asked and stopped. I frowned, closing my eyes and returning to my thoughts.

Of—

"Brd-rd-rd!"

Vrrr-vrrr.

"Ohmygod, whaaaat." I rolled over and grappled for my phone over the uncomfortable distance. It took me a little bit, but soon I slid it off of the nightstand and looked at the screen.

Kyousuke.

My heart jumped into my throat. I wasn't tired anymore. No, my soul was ablaze with purpose. My heart thrummed loudly in my ears and tried to break through my chest. I madly swiped at my phone, desperately trying to get it to answer the phone. Finally, the sensor picked up on my panicked attempts and answered.

"Kyousuke?" I blurted out hurriedly, stupidly.

God, why did I sound so dumb?

"Kirino!" his voice replied. He sounds relieved.

My heart stopped beating for a moment when he said my name. I felt cared for in that second and that I would be better afterward. I didn't remember it being so deep. It sounded as if he had changed a bit, but it was still purely Kyousuke. It was so sexy. So manly. It was handsome, though I wasn't sure how. Despite it belonging to the big brother I knew him to be—Kyousuke the dim, stupid, idiotic brother who screwed up every major event that happened between us, who was a general waste of time and space—it exuded a masculinity that I hadn't known I even wanted. Maybe it was because none of the boys at school even came close to possessing such a tenor. I hadn't even heard it in his voice when he was still living with us. Where did he get it?

"Kirino, are you ok?"

I opened my mouth to answer him.

No. Nonononono. I'm pissed at you.

"Kirino?"

"Oh, no—fuck you!" I shouted and hung up the phone.

It didn't feel very satisfying to jab my finger into the glass where End sat.

He called back. I hit ignore. He called back again. I ignored him. We danced like that for ten minutes, my renewed anger from earlier boiling inside of me speeding my hand to shut him down as many times as I could. Ever call he made, the angrier I got, his attempts fueling my fury and validating my position. I wanted to ignore him until the world ended. He didn't have the right to speak to me! He should have kept calling me if he wanted my attention, that asshole. But, no—he had better things to do. Hanging out with other people. With girls, probably.

He probably had a fucking girlfriend.

I reached for the ignore symbol and fumbled the phone in my haste. I answered his phone call instead of ignoring it.

"Kirino! Wait!"

My thumb hovered over the End button.

"I'm sorry I haven't called! I'm sorry. I... I'm sorry that I didn't text you or email you. I'm sorry I haven't responded to your messages." There was a long pause. I felt my heart clinging to my thumb, struggling not to hit End and listen to his stupid excuse. I felt as if I were about to tumble off a cliff and only his words would pull me back. "Things are...difficult, now. Complicated. I... Kirino, I don't have time to explain, but I promise we'll talk soon."

I stared at my phone. I realized tears we're running down my cheeks again. I hated them and wished I couldn't cry anymore. I put the phone to my ear.

"You're lying," I hissed. I could feel the acid dripping from my words. The tears I'd tries to hold back started to fall down my face. "Don't you tell me that you're going to call me back. That we'll 'talk soon'. If you want me to listen to you, you better tell me right now. You won't get a second chance. Aniki."

I wasn't aware you could say that word scathingly.

His hesitation was an indication of the received message.

"I—"

Some loud, horrible noise garbled the signal and forced me to wrench the phone from my ear.

"Shit—Kirino. I want to tell you. I do. God, do I want to explain, but I can't. I have to go, right now."

Clrickh.

Beep-beep-beep.

He hung up.

That asshole hung up. On me.

Slowly, my hand dropped to my lap. My arm felt heavy; my phone felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. I felt my heart plummet into the pit of my stomach. A cold washed over me and all I could do was stare at the hardwood floor in front of me. I didn't feel a futon on me anymore. No, it felt as if I were being through into the sun and the gravity was crushing me into a single layer of atoms across its surface. I hadn't known I'd cried until the next morning.

"Did Kyousuke get in touch with you?"

"Yeah."

"...Did he say anything?"

"No. Not really. He just said that he'd call me back soon."

"Is that it?"

"...He apologized. For not calling or anything."

"That...asshole! And then he just hangs up?"

"Yeah. There was a loud noise. I think it was music or something. He was out, I guess."

"...Kirino... I, uh. If it makes any difference, I think he's probably following your wishes."

"What?"

"No dating other girls."

"Oh."

"...You're not convinced?"

"No, it just doesn't matter. He's in college. And, it's weird for him to listen to what I want. I'm his sister."

"I-I suppose."

"We don't have to talk about it."

"N-no, I want to talk. ...Do you?"

"Not really."

"Oh, okay. Well, I'll be by tomorrow to see how you're doing."

"What?"

"Tomorrow's Sunday. It's our day off."

"Oh. Yeah, sure. I can't wait."

"Kirino?"

"Yeah, Ayase?"

"I'm sorry."

Kyousuke didn't call me back.

I waited for a few weeks, feeling more stupid with each passing day. I found myself waiting with my phone in hand at the same time that Kyousuke had called, hoping that he'd contact me.

Weeks turned to months.

I was running again. We won meet after meet, my heart and soul put into each event to fill the gaps. I charged past my competition, in pracitce and at the heats, and was finding myself within reach to be back on top. School was challenging again, and I allowed my obsession to be the top mark of my class engulf me; Otou-san's agreement only gave me something else to conquer. Modeling ate up the rest of my time, keeping my bank account filled with cash; not that I was using it as much as I used to. On Sundays, I would mostly see Kanako and Ayase; sometimes, I would meet up with Kuroneko and Saori and we would talk and laugh and go full out otaku. The days we didn't meet, we would text or call; much of the same arrangement as before. Not much else happened. It wasn't long until my second trimester was coming to a close.

Late Autumn.

It was getting cold, again.

Kyousuke didn't really contact my mother or father anymore. It affected my parents strangely. At dinner, Okaa-san would sit at the table and stare at Kyousuke's empty seat, lost in thought. Otou-san would glance up at his son's vacant place before him, watch it for a few moments as if to see it would move on its own, then continue eating his food.

One time, after looking at the empty seat, he reached out and grasped my mother's hand. She snapped out of her daze, startled, and smiled sadly at my father. She squeezed his hand and started eating again. It was the most affection that I'd ever remembered seeing Otou-san display since I was a small child. It was sweet and terribly sad at the same time. It moved me to finish my dinner quickly so that I could return to my room. I didn't want to choke to death in front of my parents.

That night, after I'd cleared my plate and excused myself, I closed the living room door and stood still. I was lost in a wish that Kyousuke would run me over, carelessly barging down the stares as he almost always did. I wanted him to jump up from his place on the floor to rush to my aide. I wanted to yell at him and kick him for it and the laugh about it when my temper had cooled. I could see it then, plain as day and perfectly us.

"Have you heard anything from him?" Okaa-san's voice asked, small and tired.

"...No," he lamented, also tired. "I tried calling him yesterday."

"And?"

"I was planning on giving him a lecture, to him on keeping family close and informed... But, when he picked up, he apologized before I could begin and disconnected."

There was a pause. I leaned my head back, eyes to the ceiling trying to hear more.

"Do you... Is it us, you think?" My eyes widened, surprised. My father had asked that. Kousaka Daisuke, the hard-nosed police officer, the man carved from stone and given life by the Gods of Justice, asked that to my mother. His voice sounded weak. Uncertain. It washed me in a cold sadness I never thought I would ever—could ever—need to feel for my father. "Did...I do something to anger him? Keep us at arm's length?"

"Not that I'm aware of..." Okaa-san said, softly.

"I... I wasn't always the most approachable man, I know. I wanted to show him how a man behaves. How he conducts himself to the world. To be strong. But... Our son ignores us. It is as if he has severed ties with his family. I feel that he may be punishing us for something." There was a long pause, ended with a deep and exhausted sigh. "Maybe... Maybe he hates that I treated him as I did."

"Daisuke, I don't think—"

"I called him worthless," Otou-san stated in his matter-of-fact manner he was so well known for. "For years, I called him a good for nothing. I witnessed his descent into mediocrity and was angry at him for it."

He paused again, as if collecting his wits. Possibly, his strength. I wondered how much it took him to overcome that "silent samurai" mask that he wore daily. Okaa-san remained quiet; perhaps she was being respectful, allowing Otou-san to speak his mind. I got to hear what sadness sounded like in that man's voice: It did not quiver, nor did it crack. My father wouldn't cry, because that wasn't him. No, it was weary. Stretched to the point of ultimate and overwhelming fatigue. I don't know why I was so surprised that he had feel things behind that piercing, calculating, and evaluating gaze.

I was my father's daughter.

"I suppose I thought that when my opinion of him changed... Perhaps, I was under the false impression that once he was acting as the man I knew him to be, the perceptions from our previous relationship would disappear. I was proud that day he stood up for Kirino and her...otaku things; I still am proud. He has done well by her and has brought this family back together as I remembered it—partway at least. There is much for him to learn, still, but I believe he is on the right track to adulthood. I wish Kyousuke were here so that I could impart that wisdom to him.

"...His behavior has me baffled. It is as if I do not know my own son." Okaa-san did not reply. "Yoshino, it seems I have a great deal of thinking to do. Of myself and Kyousuke."

The silence that followed tugged at my heart.

"It saddens me greatly that he is so distant," Otou-san uttered, wounded. "Kyousuke, my boy... What are you thinking, I wonder?"

I waited for him to continue.

Okaa-san and Otou-san said nothing else.

My father's confession left me drained and pained for him. For Okaa-san, too.

I returned to my room as I had originally intended. I tried to step as softly as I could so my parents wouldn't know I listened to them. In my room, I curled up into a ball on my bed. I didn't cry anymore. Come to think about it, I didn't really get emotional over much. It seemed to take too much effort. Empty effort.

I wonder if this is how Kyousuke felt when I was in America?

"Kiririn."

"Hmm?"

I blinked furiously.

Saori and Kuroneko watched me closely from their places at the table. A waitress-maid stood by, watching with open concern.

"W-would you like something to eat?" the woman asked, possibly for the second time.

"O-oh, uh, n-no thanks," I stuttered. "My coffee is fine, thank you."

She nodded and left, but I could feel a distinct wave of pity from the maid. I died a little inside.

My gaze returned to my two, closest friends. The tall, beautiful blue/gray-haired Saori wore a frown on her face. I couldn't see her eyes behind her Master swirly glasses, but from her demeanor, she seemed a little worried. Kuroneko's dark, contemptuous gaze wasn't there, either, replaced by silent and reserved understanding. Not you, too, I groaned inwardly at the dark loli, remembering Ayase suddenly. I could feel my face burn as a blush covered me from chin to forehead; I wanted to sink into myself and disappear. I don't think I react well to embarrassment.

"Ist something troubling thee?" Saori asked, voice strong and embellished. She was leaned forward on her elbows, fingers caressing her coffee cup.

I didn't know what to say right off the bat, so I just looked down at my cup of steaming coffee. Silence seemed to be a prevailing feature in my life.

"There is something about you that is not quite right," Kuroneko she spoke, her voice smooth and disinterested as it always was. It didn't match up with her expression. "Where is that self important attitude, I wonder? You have not once attempted to belittle me today. Not for my fashion, nor because I've—once again—refused to be taken in by your distaste in my newest light novel series."

Oh, yeah. I did say it was stupid, didn't I?

My eyes dropped to my steaming coffee. They deserved the full truth, I suppose. And I wanted to tell them, too, but... All I could get through was: "I miss Kyousuke."

That overwhelming exhaustion, again...

Welcome back, buddy.

I heard a click and looked up. Saori had changed from Saori Bajeena to Makishima Saori by simply taking off her glasses. She was dressed in her normal otaku fashion, but for the winter: Her hair was still done up in a rough pony tail with the yellow bandanna. A thick, male parka with terrible fake fur lining the hood swaddled her nicely. I could see her green plaid button up shirt peaking out from the opening I'm her coat. Saori's act was gone, and her soft eyes looked warm but troubled. Even though her gaze made me feel a bit self conscious, I felt loved.

"You know," she began, her voice soft and lacking that medieval flourish, "think it's awfully strange. The way that Kyousuke has been for the last four months."

I didn't know what to say.

"Yeah," Ruri said, softly agreeing with her. She'd dropped her act, too.

Just by shifting her demeanor, Gokou Ruri was able to switch between her gothic counter personality into a fairly normal person. Where Kuroneko was cold and articulately dismissive, Ruri was shy and quite reserved. Honestly, her alter-ego suited her nicely. Her long winter cloak, expertly sewn and made for her, by her, for her quasi-Maschera cosplay. Ruri wore what she always did to one of our get-together's: Her filly white top, the collar buttoned and centered with a small rose, under her signature black bolero accented with gray ribbons down her sleeves; her black skirt, detailed white crosses along the floor-seam and more ribbons along her slender hips; grey stockings; and classic, black Mary Janes. She'd removed her rose-adorned head band for a pair of black car ears. Her red-becontacted eyes were softer than normal and saddened.

I didn't know what to think about them. What to say in response. Why they had done that, dropping their forward identities to speak to me. I didn't want them to do this. I just wanted our time like it used to be.

"What are you doing?" I asked in a whispered.

Saori's gazed softened; Ruri didn't look at me.

Saori spoke, fingers still playing with her glasses now. "You aren't alone, Kirino. Kyousuke hasn't talked to us, either. It's been about three months since I heard from him last. We were hoping that he would have talked to you recently."

I looked at Ruri, who kept her gaze on her tea.

"He... He hasn't called either of you?" I asked, slightly shocked.

"He's stopped calling or texting us," Ruri admitted. I didn't like seeing her like this; I was more at home with her scathing, judgmental gaze. "He won't return our calls."

"Do you have any idea why?" Saori asked.

I shook my head and bit my lip. I slipped my fingers into the ring on my coffee cup and took a sip. Sweet, and flavorful. I wished I could enjoy it.

Saori nodded, silent for a moment in thought. "Have you tried visiting?"

I looked at her strangely. Visit him? I couldn't have... I mean, I couldn't have just shown up out of the blue. Right? ...Actually, no. I could have. In fact, that was something I would have done three months ago, without a thought. I would have marched into Kyousuke's dorm and kicked down his door. I would have demanded that he tell me what was wrong. And, if he didn't tell me, I would have kicked his ass until he provided me an answer that made sense. And, after that, I would have made sure to start fixing the problem. That's what we would have done when he was home. What had changed in the last four months where I failed to see confronting him as an option? How had I become part of the problem?

We sat in silence for a long time.

"You're an idiot," Ruri muttered.

My eyes snapped at her, confused and taken aback. "What?"

"You're an idiot," she repeated, shifting her eyes. They weren't soft anymore, but hard and glaring. I hadn't seen her this angry in a long time. "An idiot and a coward."

"Ruri—"

"No!" she bit, head snapping in Saori's direction before returning her hateful look upon me. "Look at what's happening here. We don't have cohesion anymore. Our group is fading! One of my closest friends won't talk to me anymore. You can't see it, but you're losing touch with us, too. When was the last time you talked to either me or Soari?"

I stared at her, my brain refusing to work. I honestly couldn't remember.

"When you agreed to see us today, we hadn't spoken in two weeks—despite my attempts. It's been a month for Saori." I looked at the tall girl suddenly scared of the truth, but she'd long since averted her gaze. She couldn't hide the look in her eyes; how had I not talked to her in a month? I felt terrible, a pit growing in my stomach as the truth dawned on me. "This is the first sight of you in two months. Saori and I can see what's happening. We aren't stupid. We can see it in your eyes, hear it in your voice. But, I bet you don't even know what I'm talking about."

I just gaped at her like a moron.

"Of course not," Ruri gasped out in a short, sharp, contemptuous laugh. "It's right in front of your nose and you can't see it."

Ruri stood suddenly, and pulled her cloak tight around her shoulders and dawned it's hood. The shadows that spilled over her face only accented her disgust. She reached down and pulled up long, flat, wide box. Ruri looked at it as if she shouldn't even have it near her.

"Here's your Christmas present," the girl sneered, tossing the package onto the table.

Saori and I watched in silence as the short girl left, cloak billowing behind her. The entire Pretty Garden Café was quiet, all eyes following Ruri as she made her exit. The staff had even been stunned into silence. The mood in the place didn't pick back up for a while after she'd left.

My eyes fell on the box that she'd tossed onto the table. That's right. We'd gotten together to exchange Christmas presents. Mine for Ruri was sitting on the floor, forgotten and left behind—it was the entire series of new light novel I'd heard her briefly express interest in, a gothic tale of romance between... Did it even matter anymore? At the time, she had t been able to afford it, but I doubted that she would have wanted it from me.

I reached out and dragged the box to me. I opened it.

A pair of white-feathered angel wings sat in carefully folded wrapping paper. It looked as if they were able to be adjusted for two different sizes: a base pair of small wings that was to attach to the center of my back, and extensions that could be either put at full wingspan or in a folded position. There was even a halo at the bottom of the box. The entire set was made for me by hand; I remembered her asking for my measurements about two months ago... (So it really had been that long.) Everything Gokou Ruri made was by hand.

I somehow knew I didn't deserve them.

Saori and I exchanged our gifts, though the spirit was obviously deflated. I'd gotten Saori a special edition DVD box set of Big O, as well as an accompanying limited edition assemble-it-yourself model of the mecha in question. Her eyes lit up at the sight and I knew that she was happy to have. She'd gotten me a new premier doujinshi from Kurusu Kanata: Sister's Wish, Brother's Command, by the one and only Yamanashi Ganma—I noticed the cover art and felt the world around me grow heavy. Kyousuke and I, the drawn us, adorned the sleeve: he held me against him from behind, the two of us looking at the viewer with a heavy blush and our hands in less than appropriate locations. I've actually fantasized about that exact pose; my face was probably as red as a tomato. Saori apologized when she saw my expression, saying that Kururu-san wanted me to have the first copy printed as a thank you for us being unwitting models. We found Saori's present from Ruri; she said she would open it when she got home and had Ruri on the phone. She promised to give my present to her the next time she got a chance.

We left the café to walk around Akibahara to shop a bit, as we had done last Christmas season. We didn't go very far and decided to call it quits. I didn't really feel like a proper outing without both Ruri and Kyousuke around. We said our goodbyes and caught out different trains. I don't really remember the ride home, but the sky was starting to grow dark as I walked home.

Snow fell softly, as if the sky was sprinkling powdered sugar across Chiba.

I felt numb. I'm pretty sure it wasn't from the cold.

My mind went back to my new copy of Kururu-san's doujinshi, which I hadn't opened yet. The R18 press was stamped defiantly on the cover. I didn't know if I could read it... I hadn't touched my eroge in some time. I felt cold when I played them. I still saw Kyousuke and myself in the 2D and 3D animations, but where it used to set fire to my body it made me cold. I didn't imagine my brother taking me anymore; I hadn't felt that way for a while. No, now I wondered what he was doing and where he was. It wasn't only with my eroge: Stardust✩Witch Meruru wasn't very interesting anymore, and I found my attention wondering back to Kyousuke. I imagined him in his old room, listening to music or sleeping or studying or playing a game I'd let him borrow, and it would make me smile for a short time. Sometimes, I would lie on his stripped mattress in his barren room which had become a new storage space.

I was so tired.

Maybe I'd take a nap. I hadn't done that in a long time.

I came around the block and found my plain, unremarkable house and was overwhelmed with the urge to walk past it. I didn't want to go in there. Since that night that my father confessed his fears and sorrow to Okaa-san, the mood of the entire house dropped. I rarely wanted to be home. I had actually considered joining more clubs just to keep me from going home.

I stopped and stared at the house. It was the same as the others along this street, if not for a few variations. There was the brick, concrete and wooden fence that blocked off our property. The wooden gate and brick vestibule with our family name on it. The bay window to the left of the door, and the living room jutting out slightly toward the front of the property. The second floor looked much like the first in color and in design. Otou-san's car was gone, the man having left for work before I woke up. There were some trees here and there, some bushes that pleasantly hid the house's side paneling. There was nothing special about this place anymore. Not that it'd been that spectacular before. But, Kyousuke used to be here.

My breath billowed from my nostrils and lips in short lived, whipping clouds. My hands were stuffed into my pea-coat, my neck swaddled in my brother's scarf that he left—it was devoid of color and was tasteless, but at least part of him was with me. My legs had a brush of blue to them, dusted in the frosty color under my skirt. My Uggs were a little wet from the light snow.

I guess I'd better go in.

Up the steps and through the door, I was met with heat. I hadn't realized that I'd been so cold.

"I'm home," I called out, greeting the house. I kicked off my boots and set them to the side to dry. I took off my coat. My fingers touched the soft fabric of my brother's scarf, unwilling to take it off.

"So, that's where my scarf went."

My eyes snapped open and I nearly choked on my own heart. I whipped my head to the sound of the voice and found Kyousuke, standing in the atrium as if he never left.

— Ω —

Author's Note: (Updated, 30Jul14) Wow. It's been a while since I've actually published anything on here. I think it's been about eight years. Thanks for reading so far, and I hope that this will be as pleasing for you as it will be for me.

A few notes on the nature of this story. I started reading the light novels after I'd started writing tbis piece. Actually, the reason I even got seriously back into writing fanfiction was because the anime's ending angered me so terribly. I was so moved that I started this about three times, unable to really start it off right. For the first run of this chapter, I'd learned some things about the light novel series that made a lot of sense in how the ending came about, but I think some things didn't translate over into the anime. Whereas the LNs do imply something, the anime does not:

Kyousuke and Kirino are done. Finite. Expired romantically.

Other things don't match up, either, but I'm leaving everything intentionally vague because spoilers. I honestly didn't know that the anime was derived from a light novel series until I got my first review (don't worry, I properly chastised myself—that information was in my face when I was researching the show; I just blatantly ignored it, apparently).

So, to be brief, I'm taking the anime ending at face value. Any sort of information that was left out of the anime that was in the LNs is just that: things that didn't happen in that universe. If you're having trouble with that concept, try this: the anime is an official, slightly off the main course AU of the light novels. What isn't expressly stated is not part or that universe. If I didn't take the anime as that AU concept and went along with the light novels, then this entire story wouldn't make sense. There would have been no point to posting the story in the first place and completely start anew. That's not to say that I'm not going to take the LNs into account, but you can see where my predicament exists. What I've learned about the LNs makes me feel a little at peace with how they ended, but Aniplex just completely shit on it.

Look at that. I ended up not being brief at all.

Anyway, any and all criticism is welcome. Spelling, grammar, character development and continuity, etc., etc. As much as I'm here to fix what the anime destroyed, I'm doing this to grow as a writer. For the last six-odd years I've solely worked on original science fiction titles and feel like my skills need to be expressed in all manner of settings. I suppose that's why any one of us writes at all. Anyway, your help is greatly appreciated. I know when someone's being an asshole, so I won't be too offended when someone decides to go Full Douche.

Oh, and if anyone want's to be my Alpha Reader, shoot me a PM. I don't have anyone at the moment, so I'm riding raw. Otherwise, I'll try to answer questions in the normal FanFiction manner.

See You Space Siscon...

Revision #1, (30Jul14) Incontinuity error with Daisuke's character and the nature of his and Kyousuke's relationship by the end of the series. Also cleaned up a bit of his speech to try and make it more in line with his character. I've also tried to bring down the level of dramaticism in the overall tone of the chapter; I felt it was a bit heavy handed after sitting on it for a week and my thoughts were equally expressed in a review. Thanks for pointing that out, Adept94!