Author's Note:

Thanks for reading!! This is my first submission, so I hope this goes over well. Oh, and please review once you're done reading this.

"Emiko! Get down here!" yelled the familiar voice of my mom.

"Coming, Mom!" I called to her. I stuck my bookmark—an ace of spades—into the book I was reading. I put the book down on my nightstand and went outside of my room. I headed downstairs and asked sarcastically to my mother, "Where are you?"

I heard a loud sigh and my mom answered, "Kitchen."

I smiled at being able to agitate my mother' it's one of the few things I'm awesome at. I walked into the kitchen to see my brother, Jirou on his hands and knees scrubbing the floor. Mom was standing over him like the dictator she is.

"Ah, Emiko, help your brother clean the floor," my mother told me.

"Why?" I asked as innocently as I could. I really don't want to do it; I was really into the climax of my book and I want to get back to it.

"Simply, because I told you," Mom said with a shrug. "Now get to it."

I glared at her with utmost annoyance. Having been here my entire life, I know by now that it would be in my best interest to obey her most whimsical wishes. I saw that Jirou had two wash clothes. "Hey, Jirou, hand me a wash cloth?" I asked.

"Sure," he replied sleepily. Oh right, he's usually asleep right now. This is one of the times I question why my older brother got such a weird internal clock, but I decided that my dictator-like mother would be a bigger problem. I rolled up my pant legs to above my knees and got on my hands and knees and began my mother's task.

After about a minute of working, my mother departed from the kitchen and told Jirou and I, "I'll be back in ten minutes. By that time, I expect this floor to be spotless." With that, she was gone.

I groaned. The Akutagawa family kitchen is probably the size of my bedroom and Jirou's bedroom combined. I got my bandana out of my pocket and tied around my head.; my hair always gets in my face without my bandana.

I saw out of the corner of my eye that Jirou was starting to sway. "Jirou, don't fall asleep on me," I said to him.

"Mffm. Sorry, Sis," he mumbled and continued cleaning the floor. I rolled my eyes and continued as well.

Jirou yawned quite flamboyantly. Oh, Brother…

I yawned as well. Jirou chuckled, "You getting a little tired too, Sis?" I met his eyes. He was smiling widely.

I looked away from him and said, "You smile to much. Come let us finish before out dictator-like mother returns."

I could tell while we were work that Jirou was still smiling. It's not that I disagree with his happy attitude; he just needs to be serious in something other than tennis for once.

Ten minutes had past and my mother had returned. She had opened the door to the kitchen to see me standing up with my brother slung over my shoulder. "We're done," I said and past my mother through the door way.

I don't know what the whole deal at Hyotei is about that Kabaji guy carrying Jirou while he is sleeping. Jirou is actually quite light. He's about 100 pounds. For me that's not that much, though, I guess, that for others 100 pounds would be a lot.

Jirou started snoring as I went up the stairs to his and my rooms.

I started to loose my grip on Jirou, which is uncomman. I couldn't exactly let my brother fall down the stairs, so I leaned over and I grabbed him with my other hand. I was able to, eventually hold him bridal-style.

Wow, my older brother just nuzzled into my breast. God, I am never going to forget that scarring moment. EVER.

Dear God, save me…