Isshiki massaged the reddened, raw tip of her nose and shrugged.
"What does it look like I'm doing?"
I frowned. I couldn't tell whether this was a rhetorical question, a quiz, or some sort of hybrid of the two – which, by the way, was something which I considered a trademark of mine, even if I could lay no actual claim to the concept. Either way, it was clear as the cloudless Christmas midday what the answer was. "Not very much, by the looks of it."
"Then you're not looking hard enough." Isshiki glanced away, folded her arms, and said no more. "Though you're not wrong, I guess. Technically. In a fashion. Somehow."
Perhaps still smarting from her prior endless weeks of mischief, I felt no particular desire to humor her much longer. Not when I had wanted to take it easy today, and I had been dragged out here somewhat against my conscious will – though I would never in a million years begrudge Komachi looking out for her worthless older brother. Being made to play semantic games with our dear student council president would be the cherry on the icing on the cake of my annoyance, so to speak. No matter how at odds her presently deflated demeanor was with the superficially bubbly and inquisitive archetype I was uncomfortably familiar with, it simply wasn't enough for me to want to find out more.
"I see. I'll leave you to it, then." I glanced over at Komachi, who had most definitely observed the same things that I did, even if she didn't give voice to her concerns. "Let's go, Komachi." I turned and began to walk away. Soon after, a flurry of hurried footsteps scampered in my wake.
"Onii-chan, wait!" Komachi's slender fingers clung onto my arm, pulling me back and stopping me in my tracks despite the fragility of her grip. "Are you really just gonna leave her like that? Isn't she your friend?"
Was she my friend? If not, what was she to me, really? Having briefly pondered what our relationship was meant to be, ignoring the fact that it was an entirely inappropriate moment to be contemplating something like that, I was compelled to admit that "friendship" wasn't exactly the first word that came to mind. From a purely objective standpoint, the most rational way to characterize our relationship would most probably have been one of indentured servitude, wherein I was coerced by psychological forces from both without and within to slave away at my underclassman's behest. Perhaps it was little wonder, then, that I hesitated to refer to Isshiki as a friend, presuming I even knew what that word really meant.
So lost was I in my drifting thoughts that by the time I had embarked upon my return to reality, I had noticed that I was standing in front of Isshiki's seated, huddled form again. Unless Komachi had somehow gained the ability to stop time – whatever in the world that might have entailed – I had evidently been dragged unwittingly back towards the source of my current vexations.
"You don't know her like that," I said to Komachi, trying – and failing – to pick up my big brother role from the mental garbage bin I'd discarded it into. "It's rude to take up other people's time without their consent."
"Komachi doesn't know her well, but she knows you well." Komachi, hands on hips, glared up at me disapprovingly. "And Komachi knows you wouldn't leave someone in need behind like that."
"You overestimate me," I muttered, though it was difficult to ignore the transient swell of joy in my chest following Komachi's statement, no matter how faint or backhanded her praise of my character might be. And that, as they say, was that. I'd never been one to leave my little sister disappointed – at least, not intentionally – and I wasn't about to start today. Sighing, I stared down at the top of Isshiki's head and cleared my throat.
"So?"
The mess of flaxen hair parted, and a pair of sullen ochre eyes peered through the thicket. "So what?"
"I thought you said you had plans for Christmas. I didn't realize those plans involved you sitting here alone, looking like you just got rejected all over again."
For the first time since our unusual acquaintance had commenced, I saw the faintest hint of an ember come to life in the caramel murk, a small spark of anger born of a wound that cut deeper than either of us had expected. Yet that fire was doused as quickly as it had arisen, replaced only by an impenetrable, rock-solid wall of coagulated honey. "Of all the people I want to hear that from, Senpai, you are definitely dead bottom of the list," she grumbled.
Shrugging, I replied, "Someone had to say it. It's not like I could leave you here like this to stew all day over whatever it is you're stewing over. I mean, I could, but-"
"Onii-chan!"
"Right, right." Time to start again from ground zero. "So, what are you doing out here?"
"I'm…" Isshiki's face contorted and squirmed, as though she were physically processing the sounds she wanted to expel from her mouth. "I was… waiting for a friend, but that friend said they weren't coming. But then…"
"But then… what?"
Isshiki shook her head, her jaw shifting slowly from side to side as she chewed on her next words. "Nothing. I guess it's all good now." She abruptly shot up to her feet, pulled at the rosy flesh on her cheeks, and planted a loud slap on them. On cue, a flush of glitter came rushing forth into her irises, filling her physiognomy with untrammeled vim and unbridled vigor, and before long, her transformation into the "usual" Isshiki was once again complete. "Maybe I should be asking you the same question," she purred as she poked my jacket playfully. "What brings you out here, Senpai? And going on a date with your sister on Christmas, of all days?"
"Right?" A pair of slim hands grabbed my elbow from behind. "Komachi's poor Onii-chan can't find a date for Christmas, so Komachi has to do her filial duty and fill in the role," Komachi piped up as she poked her head out to my side. "Isn't Komachi a good little sister?"
"You sure are, Komachi-chan." Isshiki leaned forward and laid a gloved palm on Komachi's head and tousled her hair happily, to which Komachi responded with an excited quiver. "I appreciate you always looking out for Senpai. We both know he needs the help."
Since when did they get close enough for Isshiki to call her "Komachi-chan" so casually? Next thing I knew, Komachi would be inviting her to tag along for the day.
"Why don't you come with us, Isshiki-san?"
What?
"You sure? I'd hate to impose." Though it sure didn't seem like it, judging by the way her expression lit up like a Christmas tree.
"Onii-chan will be okay with it if Komachi's okay with it. Right, Onii-chan?"
As I met those imploring, almost mendicant pairs of eyes, I knew immediately that Komachi was right. Maybe that was why her and Isshiki seemed so close, in more ways than one: they both knew exactly how to land the sucker punch that hit me where I was softest. And when their powers of pleading combined to pull irresistibly and incessantly at my heart-strings, never once letting slip the leash they had thrown around my hapless self, then there was little I could do but to walk, willingly or otherwise, blithely back into bondage.
I sighed. Komachi grinned. Isshiki's lips twitched in amusement.
"As you wish."
The next hours were a metaphorical whirlwind, a phenomenon of space and time that ripped me from place to place, from moment to moment, with scarcely a sliver of care for what I felt or what I wanted. In the manner of the paragon of the househusband that I one day dreamed of emulating, I was whisked through the local mall, paraded like a grotesque golden bull through the heathen streets of Chiba, doomed forever to hop tightly on the heels of my far more illustrious female brethren. Nevertheless, if I were to not let my dreams stay dreams, so to speak, I would naturally have to take the bad with the good and suck it up. If I couldn't handle this much, then the days ahead would be long indeed.
Midday beckoned a spontaneous trip to a nearby family restaurant, which was packed to the brim with caterwauling kids, cuddling couples, and every kind and combination of human being imaginable. The three of us squeezed into the last available booth, Isshiki and Komachi sitting side by side across from me, chattering gaily as they shared a menu. In barely the time it took for me to get out of bed and get dressed in the mornings, they had struck up a budding friendship that dove far deeper any semblance of companionship I might have claimed for my own. Once again, I was reminded just how far below the waterline I remained, sinking slowly into the sea, watching as the lights above danced and flickered before they were inevitably consumed by all-encompassing oblivion. All I could do now was sit in silence, watching, observing, just as I had always done.
"This looks good, don't you think?" Komachi pointed eagerly at a two-person steak lunch set, which came with a generous cornucopia of side dishes, desserts, and unlimited refills at the drink machine halfway across the restaurant floor.
Isshiki scrutinized the thoroughly doctored and manipulated photo of the lunch set and nodded vigorously. "That really does. I'm down to split if you are."
"Sure!" They looked up at each other and smiled in unspoken understanding.
On second thoughts, maybe this wasn't so bad after all. All people had their place in the world, and if mine right now was naught but to bear witness to this beautiful new dawn, then so be it. As mixed as my feelings about Isshiki remained, it was difficult to not at least be somewhat heartened by my dear little sister making a new friend – even if I foresaw the trouble that lay ahead for me. Who knew, maybe getting to know Komachi well would mellow Isshiki's spikier aspects out a little bit, and make her personality just that bit more palatable to my beleaguered senses.
"Why are you smiling like that, Onii-chan? It's creepy. Stop that."
"Yeah, Senpai. Stop that."
Or maybe that was just wishful thinking on my part. I relaxed my face muscles as much as I could – I hadn't even realized I'd been staring at them, much less smiling – and glanced out the window, my short swell of optimism duly dashed. Business as usual, in other words.
Lunch was served with little fanfare, and dispatched in essentially the same fashion – I had given little thought to what to eat, and the resultant meal, a nondescript-looking whirl of spaghetti and a swig of iced tea, seemed equally uninspired. Still, food was food, and a collective clap at the end reminded us all to be grateful for what we had. Then, after departing the restaurant, it was back onto the beaten trail, back into the flashing lights.
As we meandered through the maze of novelty shops that lined the local department store's labyrinthine walkways, we would duck into whatever establishment caught either of their eye, the two of them cooing over clothes, souvenirs, jewelry and the like, leaving me standing awkwardly behind them like a robot servitor awaiting my next orders. Once in a while, I would be asked for my opinion on certain things, though I suspected they placed little to no weight on what I thought – or at least, what I said I thought.
"How's this?" Isshiki asked at one point, having pulled a purple beanie over her hair.
"It looks warm."
"…And?"
"And what?"
"Geez, Onii-chan." Komachi, who now sported a similar beanie – though one that was doused in blue instead – trotted over with a disapproving frown. "It's rude to leave a girl hanging like that. You have to say more."
"Like what?"
"If you really don't know, then there's nothing Komachi can do for you. Come on, Isshiki-san. Don't worry about him." Komachi and Isshiki removed their beanies and moved on to the next thing to catch their ephemeral attentions: a pile of key straps situated a couple of shelves down. I looked down at the beanies, deposited haphazardly near where they had originally been retrieved, doing my utmost to suppress the indignation that roiled in the pit of my stomach.
"Of course I know what else I could be saying," I complained to no one in particular. "I just don't want to say it. I'm not one of those normies who gives out cheap compliments like candy at Halloween."
"What are you muttering about now, Onii-chan?"
"Nothing." I hurriedly joined the other two at the next stall. And thusly did our day go on in much the same way, the two of them leaving trails of gold dust in their wake as they pranced about the mall, with me left to pick up whatever scraps might drop from their dinner table. If this was how it was like to go out with someone, I had little relish in the prospect, however negligibly improbable, of having to do this again in the unforeseeable future.
By the time we had made our way back to the entrance and out into the fresh air again, the sun had all but obscured its grand visage behind the nearby cluster of faceless skyscrapers, casting the stark white snow in a fierce orange hue. Not that that deterred those who were out and about in the plaza within which we stood – rather, the sight of the sprinkle of lights wrapped around the trees and hung between lampposts served only as a sign that the second cour of festivities was due to begin. It was hard not to be moved by the gentle, cosy radiance of the storefronts and streetlights in the nascent night, and for a while we simply stood, letting the crisp breeze wash over our skin, shivering slightly as the chill seeped into the gaps between our clothes.
"What should we do now?" Isshiki asked.
It was an innocuous question to spring on us – we couldn't just stand here the whole night, waiting for some miracle to occur – but it was one that, despite its simplicity, I knew Komachi and Isshiki would likely both struggle to answer. After all, they'd had fun, and it was always difficult to call an end to such enjoyment. Yet sooner or later, that moment of departure would have to be reckoned with. And Komachi, judging by her cutely furrowed brow, knew that as well as any of us did.
"Komachi will go get some hot drinks for us," Komachi abruptly said, pointing at a vending machine a number of blocks down the main road. "You guys wait here for Komachi, okay?" She darted off, leaving the two of us to watch her silhouette disappear into the ever-increasing throng of holiday goers crowding into our surrounding environs.
"There she goes."
"Yep."
A pause. Then, "Thanks for today, Senpai. I had fun."
"Don't thank me, I'm not the one who invited you or kept up with you. That's the sort of thing I just leave to Komachi, for good reason."
Isshiki snickered. "Yeah, I bet. If she weren't here, I'd have been bored out of my mind."
"For once, I have to agree."
Another pause.
"I do mean it, though. This is the most fun I've had in a while. Maybe ever."
"That's a pretty big claim to make, isn't it? I'm guessing you've hung out with the gang more than a few times."
"Yeah, but that's different, you know. I like them – even Hayama-senpai, still – and I enjoy hanging around with them, but they have their own things they wanna do, and they're not always the things that I wanna do. But today, Komachi…" Isshiki smiled wistfully. "It felt kinda like she was my actual little sister – she always suggested things to me, asked me what I wanted to try, and didn't mind when I wanted to look at something else. Now I get why you dote on her so much." She jabbed a finger up at my face. "You take real good care of her, okay? Or I'll come over to your house and take her away from you. You know I'll do it."
"Uh-huh." Somehow, I genuinely didn't count against the possibility of that happening. "I'll keep that in mind."
Isshiki huffed, though the mischievous twinkle in her irises was hard to miss. "You better. Really, though…" She let out a misty breath into her cupped gloves and coughed. "It would be nice to have a little sister. Going home is just so boring."
That statement piqued my interest, despite myself. "You're an only child?"
"Mhm." She nodded. "My parents work long hours, too. Just like yours, if I remember correctly."
"Yeah."
"It's easier if you have a sibling around, I guess. I usually just sit at home and try to find something to do. Never works out, though, especially not for a dummy like me. It's all just a big waste of time." Isshiki sighed. "At least being the student council president gives me something to pass the time, just like when I managed the soccer club. Something's gotta be better than nothing. Right?"
"I'm not the right guy to ask. Most of the time, the Service Club doesn't have anything to do. We just sit there and wait for things to happen, same way you do. Also," I added, "being student council president feels like something way more than something that should just be for 'passing the time', at least from where I'm standing. It's a big job. You should take it more seriously."
"Who says I'm not taking it seriously? And hey, I'm not the one who convinced me to do it. You put me up to it; now you gotta let me deal with it however I think is best."
"That doesn't sound like what you've been telling me the past few weeks. So, you didn't really need the help, did you?"
"I mean, I did, but…" With a harrumph and a frustrated wave of her arms, she angrily turned away. "Geez, Senpai! You just don't get it, do you?"
"No, not really."
"Fine." She composed herself, smoothing out the creases on her jacket and the stray strands in her hair, and kept calm and carried on. "By the way, speaking of the Service Club… has Yukinoshita-senpai said anything?"
"Not really. At least, nothing that's to do with you, or with either of us."
"Funny. She acts like everything that has to do with you has to do with her as well, but she won't admit to it, and accuses us of being like that instead." The corner of Isshiki's lip thinned. "I don't like it when people project themselves onto others. Makes me feel like crap. And she doesn't want people to know how vulnerable she is, but then when she comes and talks to me, she won't stop blubbering about how weird her family is, or how easy I have it without any siblings, and how that means I have all the time in the world to throw myself into being a good little student council president. Give me a break!"
As I processed and then gradually realized what Isshiki had just said, a lump suddenly grew in my chest, pushing uncomfortably against my heart, catching my breath before it could be expelled. "What?"
"Oh." She lifted a hand to her mouth. "Just forget I said that, okay? She did ask me to keep it quiet, but I just…"
"Yeah, it's a little late for that, I think." I couldn't determine if that had been a deliberate slip-up or a legitimate moment of air-headedness on Isshiki's part, but I was in no real mood to pry. At last, the mystery of the conversation that had taken place between them had been dispelled – just not in the careless and abrupt way I had anticipated. What, though, ought I make of this latest revelation, aside from storing it into the deep recesses of my mind and hoping it never reared its ugly head again? "Don't worry, I won't tell her."
"If you do, I'll make sure you regret it. Okay, Senpai?" she queried with a stretched grin that suggested more than its fair share of danger. I nodded quickly, and the hint of malice soon vanished. "That's what I thought. Still," she continued nonchalantly, "I guess she can't blame me if I happen to have a bit of brain fog from time to time. Being student council president is a tough job. She would know. Or I guess she wouldn't."
"Don't take your pettiness out on me, Isshiki. I'm not the one who screwed up here."
"Just… I don't wanna hear it." She blew a drawn-out breath out through her mouth and let off a mirthless laugh. "You're right, I'm just being petty. Everyone knows she'd have made a better president. I don't even know why I tried so hard. Or, you know… maybe I do. Maybe there was someone I was trying to impress."
Where have I heard this before? "Hayama-senpai, right? I know. You told me."
"No, not him."
I'd fully and wholeheartedly expected her to concur. And so, when she shook her head and stared up at me, I could do nothing but stare back, wordless in my surprise, mind knocked completely off-balance and racing to digest what those words could really mean. Unexperienced in the ways of relationship-building I might be, but I was far from stupid – I had an inkling of what I might be expected to say, and what she might say in response. Yet I'd been burned in this very manner before, and the saying "once bitten, twice shy" more than applied to me in this regard. If I made the wrong move or said the wrong thing, there would be no going back, for better or for worse. But if I kept my silence and allowed nothing at all to escape from my lips, that would only prolong the burgeoning sphere of awkwardness that wrapped us in its embrace, silencing the noise without, trapping us, hemming us in until, by fair means or foul, the deadlock was at long last broken.
What was a man to do in a moment like this?
"Komachi's back! What are you guys talking about?"
"Nothing special." Isshiki took a can of red bean soup from Komachi's outstretched hand and snuggled it against her cheek. "Oh, that's warm! Thanks so much, Komachi-chan."
Komachi giggled. "Anytime. Here, Onii-chan." She thrust out a dull brown tin of coffee and dropped it into my half-open hands. "What are you spacing out for? Your eyes look even deader than usual, and that's really saying something."
"Huh?" I blinked as hard as I could. "No, it's nothing."
"Okay. Isshiki-san, wanna join us for dinner?"
"Sure, why not?"
The spell was shattered. The chatter and hum of the crowd was restored, and the dainty Christmas lights bathed us in their phosphorescence once again. The air on my face was icy, at odds with the heat of the beverage in my hands. As we sauntered through the gathered masses, the snow crunched loudly and gratifyingly under the rugged soles of my shoes.
There was, however, scarce other feeling to be found.
