Gray dawn light filtered through the paper blinds of Miku's room, painting thin stripes across the tatami floor. The quiet stillness of early morning hung in the air, mingling with the faint scent of green tea leaves and old books. The TV screen stood dark and silent, the documentary long since ended.
Miku woke first. Her eyes opened halfway, adjusting to the soft light. Something felt... warm.
A steady rhythm of breathing beside her. The soft cotton of a t-shirt against her cheek. A weight across her hip.
Her brain pieced together the reality with unusual calm. She had fallen asleep next to Yoichi while watching the documentary. His arm had somehow found its way around her, his hand resting on her hip.
She felt him stir. His breathing changed, grew shallower. His fingers twitched slightly against the curve of her hip. He was awake now too.
Neither moved. The silence stretched between them, filled only by their breathing and the distant sounds of Tokyo coming to life outside the window. Both pretending to be asleep while knowing the other was awake. A silent negotiation.
Yoichi finally broke the spell. His hand lifted from her hip, the warmth of his palm lingering on the fabric of her pajamas. He shifted, beginning to sit up.
Miku couldn't stop the tiny sound that escaped her lips as his warmth retreated. A small, involuntary protest that made her cheeks burn. She sat up too, drawing her knees to her chest and hiding behind her curtain of hair.
"Morning." His voice came rough with sleep, deeper than usual.
"...Morning." Her response barely rose above a whisper. She peeked at him through her hair. "Did you... sleep well?"
"Better than I expected."
Miku fidgeted with the edge of her pajama sleeve, her fingers tracing the pattern absently. Through the veil of her hair, she studied his profile—the sharp jaw, the way his black hair stuck up at odd angles from sleep, the unusual softness in his usually guarded eyes.
"We didn't finish the documentary," she murmured, hope coloring her quiet voice. "We could... watch the rest of it today."
The change in Yoichi's expression was subtle but immediate. His shoulders stiffened slightly as reality crashed back in. "Can't. I lost a bet to Ichika. I'm her servant all day today."
Miku hugged her knees closer to her chest, making herself smaller.
"Oh." A pause, then with the faintest edge: "Her."
Yoichi seemed to notice the shift. His eyebrow rose slightly as he studied her face. He stood, stretching his arms above his head. His t-shirt lifted, revealing a sliver of skin above his waistband.
"I should... go change." He moved toward the door, then paused with his hand on the handle. He glanced back at her, looking like he wanted to say something more. Instead, he simply nodded and slipped out into the hallway.
Miku remained sitting among the cushions, the warmth of his presence already fading. She reached for her headphones, but her hand stopped halfway. For once, she didn't need them.
===
Yoichi walked down the hallway toward his room, running a hand through his messy hair. His mind replayed the feeling of waking up next to Miku, her small form curled against him. The quiet vulnerability in her eyes when she'd looked at him. That tiny, disappointed sound when he'd moved away.
What the hell was that all about?
He reached his door and stopped short. A sleek black guitar case leaned against the wall outside his room. He stared at it for a long moment. So Ichika had actually followed through on her mysterious shopping trip.
He left it where it stood and entered his room, pulling off yesterday's t-shirt. The morning air was cool against his skin as he moved toward the closet for a clean shirt.
A knock sounded at his door, followed immediately by the door swinging open before he could respond.
"Morning, sleepyhead!" Ichika stood in the doorway, already dressed in a stylish outfit that looked casual but was definitely not. Her smile was bright and perfect. Too perfect.
"I was wondering where you disappeared to last night," she continued. "You must have found a more... comfortable place to sleep. Your bed looks completely untouched."
Yoichi shrugged, reaching for a black t-shirt and pulling it over his head. "It's a bed. It works."
"Mmm." Ichika sipped from the coffee mug in her hand, watching him over the rim. "I see you found your housewarming present."
She stepped out into the hallway and returned with the guitar case, pushing it firmly into his hands.
"You can thank me later." Her smile didn't reach her eyes. "Right now, you have one hour. Get dressed, eat whatever Nino left out for breakfast, and meet me downstairs. We have a very, very busy day ahead of us."
Yoichi stared at the case in his hands, then back at Ichika. "I told you not to—"
"Bye!" She waggled her fingers at him and turned away, her short hair swinging with the movement. "One hour, Yoichi-kun! Don't make me come looking for you again."
She paused at the doorway, glancing back over her shoulder. "Oh, and do tell Miku good morning for me when you see her. She's usually such an early riser, but maybe she had a... late night."
The door closed behind her with a soft click that somehow felt louder than a slam.
===
Ichika leaned against the wall outside Yoichi's door, her perfect smile collapsing the moment she was alone. She clutched her coffee mug tightly, the ceramic hot against her palms.
Why am I acting like this? The question tumbled through her mind, unwelcome and persistent. It's just Miku. Quiet, awkward Miku who never asks for anything.
That was exactly the problem. Miku never asked. She just... took. Without even trying.
Ichika pushed away from the wall and headed downstairs, her steps quick and deliberate. She had bigger things to worry about today. The swimwear gig. A potential career breakthrough. That should have been enough to occupy her thoughts.
Instead, her mind kept replaying the image of Yoichi's arm draped over Miku's sleeping form. The gentle way his hand had rested on her hip. The comfortable intimacy of it.
"This is ridiculous," she muttered to herself as she reached the kitchen. "I barely know him. He's arrogant and cold and..." And vulnerable when he sings. And gentle when he sleeps. And surprisingly kind when he thinks no one is watching.
She set her mug down harder than necessary, coffee sloshing over the rim.
"Whoa, someone's in a mood this morning!" Yotsuba bounced into the kitchen, already dressed in her track uniform. "Everything okay, Ichika?"
Ichika's mask slipped back into place, her smile returning. "Just nervous about the audition. Big day today!"
"You'll be amazing! You always are." Yotsuba grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl. "Where's Yoichi? Is he still sleeping?"
"No, he's up." Ichika kept her voice light. "He'll be down soon."
"Oh good! I wanted to show him my medal from last week's track meet." She paused, head tilted like a curious puppy. "Hey, did you give him that guitar thing yet?"
"I did." Ichika busied herself refilling her coffee.
"What did he say? Was he super happy? Did he play something?"
"He was... surprised." Ichika sidestepped the questions. "Listen, I've got to prep. Can you do me a favor and let Yoichi know I'll be in the bathroom when he's ready? I've got a whole day planned for him."
"Sure thing!" Yotsuba saluted and bounced toward the stairs, her endless energy already exhausting Ichika at this hour.
Alone again, Ichika closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She needed to focus. The audition was what mattered, not whatever weird feeling had gripped her when she saw Yoichi and Miku together.
Jealous? Is that what this is? The thought was so absurd she almost laughed out loud. Over a boy I just met? A boy who is technically my step-brother?
She opened her eyes, straightening her shoulders. Whatever this feeling was, she'd push it down. Lock it away. That's what she'd always done.
The sound of footsteps on the stairs pulled her attention. Miku appeared, wearing her usual blank expression, headphones around her neck. Their eyes met across the room.
For the briefest moment, something flashed between them—a silent acknowledgment, a challenge. Then Miku's gaze dropped, her hair falling forward to shield her face as she headed for the tea kettle.
Ichika watched her with narrowed eyes. Quiet, reserved Miku. Always in the background. Always watching. Always seeing more than people realized.
Game on, little sister, Ichika thought, her competitive nature flaring. Game on.
Yoichi stared at the guitar case on his bed. He ran his fingers over the sleek black surface, feeling the texture beneath his fingertips. It was a nice case. Expensive. The kind of thing he could never have afforded.
He flipped the latches and opened it slowly. Inside, nestled in dark blue velvet, lay a simple but beautiful acoustic guitar. Mahogany body, polished to a warm glow. Nothing flashy or pretentious. Just honest craftsmanship.
His throat tightened unexpectedly.
His mother had played guitar. Not well, she'd always insisted, but well enough to accompany herself while singing lullabies to him as a child. Her voice was soft and slightly off-key but full of love, the gentle strumming of cheap guitar strings.
"Yoichi-kun!" Yotsuba's voice called from the hallway, followed by rapid knocking. "Are you decent? Can I come in?"
He closed the case quickly, snapping the latches shut. "Yeah."
Yotsuba burst in, all smiles and energy, her green ribbon bobbing with each movement. "Good morning! Ichika said to tell you she'll be waiting in the living room when you're ready." She spotted the guitar case. "Ooh, is that what she got you? Can I see you play?"
"No." He softened his tone. "Maybe later."
"Okay!" She accepted the rejection without a hint of offense. "Have you had breakfast? Nino made pancakes before she left. They're probably cold now, but they're still super good!"
"I'll get something later," he said, moving toward the door. Better to face Ichika now and get whatever she had planned over with.
"You can't skip breakfast!" Yotsuba gasped, genuinely scandalized. "It's the most important meal of the day! That's what Itsuki always says, and she's the smartest about food stuff."
Yoichi sighed. "Fine. One pancake."
"Yay!" Yotsuba pumped her fist in victory. "Follow me! I'll heat one up for you."
As they passed walked down the hallway, Miku made it upstairs, her eyes widening slightly when she saw him. A faint blush colored her cheeks.
"Morning again," he said, his voice softer than it had been with Yotsuba.
"Morning." Miku's eyes flickered to the guitar case in his hand, then back to his face, a question in her gaze.
"Ichika got it for me."
"Oh." There it was again, that tiny note of something in her voice when Ichika's name came up. "Do you play?"
"No." He shifted the case to his other hand. "My mother did."
Yotsuba looked between them, her usual boundless energy momentarily contained as she sensed something in their exchange. "We're heading down for breakfast, Miku! Want to join us?"
Miku hesitated, then nodded. "I need a refill on tea."
Tea you just brought upstairs?
The three descended the staircase together, an odd procession: Yotsuba leading the way with enthusiastic chatter, Yoichi following with his new guitar, and Miku trailing behind.
In the kitchen, they found Ichika scrolling on her phone, a coffee mug empty beside her. She looked up as they entered, her smile revealing nothing of her earlier intensity.
"There he is!" She set down her script. "Ready for your day of servitude, Yoichi-kun?"
Yoichi crossed his arms. "What's first on the agenda?"
Ichika stood, gathering her purse. "First, you get to be my assistant at a very important gig. We leave in thirty minutes." She looked him up and down. "Dress nicely. You're representing me today."
She brushed past him, pausing briefly to tap the guitar case with her finger. "And we'll have your first lesson later. I can't wait to hear you play."
As Ichika disappeared upstairs, Yoichi stared after her, a sensation he couldn't quite name settling in his stomach.
Behind him, the tea kettle whistled. He turned to find Miku watching him, her blue eyes thoughtful over the rim of her cup.
"Be careful with her," she said quietly, so only he could hear. "Ichika always has a plan."
Before he could respond, she walked away, headphones sliding over her ears, shutting out the world once more. But as she passed, her fingers brushed against his arm.
The touch lingered, warm against his skin, long after she had gone.