The mall bustled with Saturday shoppers, a sea of bags and chatter flooding the polished floors. Ichika leaned against a pillar outside the athletic store, watching her sisters through the glass. Yotsuba bounced from shelf to shelf, a blur of energy and joy personified.
"Guys! These ones have springs in the heels!" Yotsuba held up a pair of neon orange running shoes. "They'll make me run faster than anyone!"
"They'll make you look like a traffic cone," Nino countered, not looking up from her phone. She stood with perfect posture, one hip cocked to the side, her butterfly ribbons catching the light. "That shade of orange should be illegal. Actually, wait." She snapped a quick photo. "I need to send this to my fashion disaster collection."
A few steps away, Itsuki adjusted her glasses as she scrutinized the nutrition label on a protein shake.
"Twenty-five grams of protein, but twenty-two grams of sugar?" Her nose wrinkled in disapproval. "That's nutritionally irresponsible. What's the point of exercise if you're going to consume this glorified candy?"
Ichika checked her watch and pushed herself off the pillar. This was her chance.
"I'm going to browse that boutique across the way," she announced, pointing vaguely toward the opposite side of the mall. "Meet at the food court in an hour?"
Nino flicked her wrist dismissively. "Whatever. Just don't buy anything that clashes with what I got you last week."
"Yes," Itsuki nodded firmly. "One hour gives us adequate time to complete our individual shopping objectives before reconvening."
"Okay! Bye Ichika! Look at these blue ones too!" Yotsuba called out, already distracted by another pair of shoes.
The moment Ichika rounded the corner, her casual slouch straightened. Her eyes narrowed with focus as she scanned the directory. This wasn't a random shopping trip anymore. This was a mission.
Operation: Buy the Grumpy Step-Brother a Gift That Won't Make Him Hate Her More.
She tapped her lip thoughtfully. What did Yoichi like? What did he need? What would he actually accept without that flash of cold pride hardening his storm-gray eyes?
A gleaming electronics store caught her attention. The newest smartphone models sat on illuminated pedestals.
Ichika paused, imagining how that scenario would play out.
"Here you go, Yoichi-kun! A brand new phone so you don't have to use that ancient brick anymore!"
His face would harden into that mask of indifference, but his eyes would burn with that fierce, wounded pride she'd glimpsed when he'd shown her his cracked phone.
"I don't need your charity," he'd say, voice flat. Then he'd walk away, leaving her standing there like an idiot with an expensive reminder that she didn't understand him at all.
Ichika physically cringed at the imagined rejection. "Absolutely not," she muttered to herself, walking past the store without a second glance.
What did she know about him? He was guarded. Private. Proud. And...
Ichika's eyes widened as she spotted a music store tucked between a bookshop and a café. Perfect.
The store smelled of polished wood and paper, a welcome reprieve from the artificial mall scent. Guitars lined one wall, keyboards another, with brass and woodwind instruments hanging from displays near the back.
"Can I help you find something?"
Ichika turned to see a clerk with purple-streaked hair and a nose ring approaching.
"Yes, actually." Ichika smiled, slipping effortlessly into performance mode. "I'm looking for a gift for my..." she hesitated, "brother. He's an amazing singer, and I thought maybe an instrument would be nice? As a welcome gift."
The clerk's face brightened. "That's so thoughtful! Does he play anything already?"
Ichika's confidence faltered. "I... don't actually know."
"No problem. We can figure it out. What kind of music does he like?"
Ichika bit her lip. "I don't know that either."
The clerk looked at her strangely. "You don't know what music your brother likes?"
"It's complicated. We just... started living together. Recently." Ichika pulled out her phone, a flash of inspiration hitting her. "But I can ask him. Sort of."
She stepped aside, activating her video call app and selecting Yoichi's contact. The screen showed his broken phone attempting to connect.
He answered after several rings, his face filling her screen. He was in his room, a book in his lap, his expression transforming from neutral to annoyed when he saw her face.
"What?" The word came out clipped and sharp.
"Hi, Yoichi-kun!" Ichika angled her phone so he couldn't see the store behind her. "Quick question for you. It's for a role I'm researching. Can you play the keyboard?" She pivoted, showing him an elaborate synthesizer with flashing lights and countless buttons.
Yoichi's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "No. I can't."
The call ended abruptly. Ichika stared at her phone in surprise.
"Well, that's rude," she muttered, immediately calling back.
He answered again, his scowl deepening. "What now?"
"Sorry, sorry! Just one more question." She moved to a display of electric guitars, picking up a glossy red one shaped like a lightning bolt. "What about guitar? Is this hard to play? My character needs to learn an instrument quickly."
"You look ridiculous. Stop calling me." The screen went black again.
Ichika frowned at her phone. The clerk watched with barely concealed amusement.
"Family drama?" she asked.
"Something like that."
Ichika walked to the acoustic guitar section, drawn to a simple mahogany model with clean lines. It wasn't flashy or ostentatious. It had a certain... honesty to it. Like the emotion in Yoichi's voice when he sang.
She called again. This time Yoichi answered with a look that could curdle milk.
"Are you buying me an instrument?" he demanded without preamble.
Ichika's eyes widened in panic. "What? No! Of course not! It's for my character! She's... a rock star! A very acoustic rock star!"
"You're a terrible liar for an actress."
"And you're grumpy for an old man."
"I'm sixteen."
"Wait. Sixteen? What's your birthday?"
"August 8th."
Ichika's mind raced through quick calculations. Their birthday was a few weeks ago. They were seventeen. Which meant...
"You're younger than us."
"So?"
"Nothing, I just..." Ichika felt something shift in her perception of him. All this time she'd been thinking of him as an equal, or even as someone older and more experienced.
But he was their little brother.
"Nothing. Thanks for answering my extremely hypothetical questions."
She ended the call before he could respond, turning back to the mahogany guitar. It wasn't a phone. It wasn't charity. It was a tool for something he clearly had talent for.
"I'll take this one," she told the clerk.
"Great choice! Would you like it gift wrapped?"
"Yes, please. Simple though. Nothing too—"
Her phone rang, cutting her off. The caller ID read: MANAGER-SAN.
Ichika frowned slightly. Her manager rarely called on weekends unless it was important.
"Hello?" she answered, moving away from the counter.
"Ichika-chan! Cancel whatever you're doing. I've got a last-minute casting for you." Her manager's voice crackled with excitement. "A big one. Summer swimwear line, major exposure, excellent pay."
Ichika's posture straightened, her voice shifting instantly to professional mode. "Swimwear? What's the brand? Is it reputable?"
"More than reputable. One of the models they've already signed is from Strawberry Productions."
Ichika nearly dropped her phone. "Strawberry Productions? You mean..."
"Yes. The ones behind B-Komachi."
B-Komachi. The hottest idol group in Japan right now. Working with them, even tangentially, could be the break she needed.
Maybe she could even meet their owner.
Ichika glanced at the guitar, torn between two impulses.
"When's the shoot?" she asked, already knowing she wouldn't refuse.
"Tomorrow morning. 10 AM call time."
"I'll be there." She hung up, turning back to the clerk. "Actually, can you hold this for me? I need to come back tomorrow."
The clerk's face fell. "Sure, but our sale ends today."
Ichika hesitated, looking at the guitar again.
"No. I'll take it now. And a case too, please."
As the clerk rang up her purchase, Ichika's phone buzzed with a text from Nino: Where are you? We're at the food court already.
She quickly typed a response: Got caught up. Be there in 5.
The clerk handed over the guitar, now nestled in a sleek black case. "I threw in a pack of picks and a beginner's book. For your brother."
"Thank you." Ichika smiled, suddenly excited about giving Yoichi the gift. It felt right somehow.
Her phone buzzed again. Her manager had sent over the details for tomorrow's shoot. Ichika's breath caught as she scrolled through the message.
The shoot wasn't just with someone from B-Komachi's production company. It was with Ai Hoshino herself. The face of B-Komachi.
Ichika clutched the guitar case tighter.
Tomorrow could change everything for her career. But tonight...
Tonight she had a gift to give to the boy who sang like his heart was breaking.
Her phone buzzed a third time. A message from Yoichi: If you buy me anything, I'm returning it.
Ichika smiled, a mischievous glint returning to her eyes. Too late. And you're stuck with it because I lost the receipt.
A long pause, then: You're impossible.
Ichika laughed softly, tucking her phone away. Impossible, maybe. But also his big sister, whether he liked it or not.