Episode 1: “So, my dad’s getting remarried…”

It happened not long after July had begun.

That evening, while Dad and I were having a slightly late dinner, he suddenly spoke up, as if remembering something. “By the way.”

“Got approached by a foreigner at the station today.”

Here we go again, I thought, stifling an inward sigh. Our dinner conversations were often a parade of Dad’s random, trivial anecdotes—bits of nonsense that barely warranted attention.

Still, outright ignoring him felt a tad cold, so I humored him with a half-hearted, “And what happened?” My bare minimum nod to filial piety.

“Couldn’t really handle it myself, so I took ’em to the station staff.”

“Heh, that was nice of you, Dad.” I replied.

“Think I should sign up for English conversation classes?”

“Probably a waste of money, so don’t bother.”

I popped another piece of karaage into my mouth. The savory juices from the karaage burst with every chew, making his pointless chatter melt away.

“This is good, right?”

“Yeah,” I agreed, chewing contentedly. The crisp coating and tender meat were a small mercy amidst his usual drivel.

“Oh, and,” he added, almost too casually, “I’m thinking of getting remarried. That cool with you?”

“Huh, remarried, huh—Gah! Cough, cough!?” I choked spectacularly, fumbling for my barley tea to wash down the shock. “R-Remarried!? What!?”

Dad’s face split into a gleeful grin. “Hahaha, now that’s the reaction I was waiting for!”

“No, no, no, what kind of segue is that!?” I snapped, still coughing. “Think about the flow of conversation, Dad!”

Using “by the way” for a bombshell like remarriage was just wrong. You don’t leap from a random station story to something that life-altering without buildup. Where was the proper setup? The “Ryouta, sit down, we need to talk about something important” moment?

I glared at him, his cackling utterly remorseless. Sometimes, I just didn’t get this old man. Today’s stunt was tame compared to his annual penchant for chaos, but still—this was absurd.

“Dad, explain properly. What’s this about remarrying? You serious?”

“I’m serious, Ryouta. I’m thinking of remarrying. What do you think?”

“Huh… Well, is it, like, just a desire to remarry, or…?”

“Nope, I’ve already got someone.”

My jaw dropped. “…It’s not even my birthday, so what kind of prank is this?”

“No prank, I’m telling you!”

“Have you ever read The Boy Who Cried Wolf? Lie too much, and no one believes you when it matters, you know.”

I almost added, Like that woman—but the words caught in my throat.

I knew why they’d divorced.

The wolf in that story was her.

Dad and I had never talked about it, skirting the topic like a live wire. For remarriage to come up now, of all times, hit me like a sucker punch.

“I’ve pulled plenty of pranks, sure, but I’ve never lied, have I?”

“No, no, everything you do is shady as hell, Dad… Fine, I’ll bite. Who’s this poor woman who fell for a shady guy like you?”

“I met her on a shoot. Tominaga Miyuki-san. She’s a freelance makeup artist, and let me tell you, she’s a real catch!” His smug grin was insufferable as he started bragging about his fiancée’s looks.

I was floored—not just by the idea of him remarrying, but that he had the nerve to act like it was no big deal. “Huh… Sounds fine, I guess? How long have you been with her?”

“Oh, about two years now.”

“Two years!?” I nearly choked again. “Forget remarriage—that’s the real shocker! You’ve been dating her for two years behind my back!?”

“Well, you know, you’re pretty dense.”

“That’s a low blow…” I grumbled. “So, you got a picture of her or what?”

“That’s for the meet-up. Don’t go falling for her just ’cause she’s gorgeous, okay?”

“I won’t…” I sighed, exasperated.

Dad let out a hearty laugh, pointing at the calendar on the table. “The meet-up’s next Saturday.”

“That’s awfully sudden… Guess I gotta get a haircut this week.”

“Oh, and one more piece of good news. Heh heh heh…”

“What? Spit it out already.”

Dad paused for dramatic effect before opening his mouth—

“You’re getting a sibling.”

“A… sibling!?”

—Did you catch that?

Dad’s words hung in the air, and I was already on a completely different wavelength.

A misunderstanding sparked by homophones, the kind that only trips you up in conversation, not on paper.

That’s right—I’d assumed he meant I was getting a brother.

As an only child, I’d always had a quiet longing for siblings. The word “sibling” struck me like a bolt of lightning, igniting a rush of excitement that drowned out everything else.

“She’s a year younger than you, a first-year in high school, so you’ll be the big brother!”

“Hell yeah! Nice one, Dad!” I shot back, practically vibrating with enthusiasm.

“Oh? So you’re cool with it? I’m really going through with this, you know.”

“Obviously! A sibling, huh… I’m pumped!”

Only later would I realize the massive oversight I’d made. If Dad had said “sister” instead… No, no use dwelling on it now. A simple question—brother or sister?—could’ve braced me for what was coming.

But sibling or not, I had no intention of meddling in Dad’s remarriage. My excitement carried me forward, oblivious to the curveball waiting just around the corner.

＊ ＊ ＊

To be clear, I know firsthand how much of a hassle real sibling relationships can be.

When siblings are close in age, the younger one often grows up viewing the older as a rival, coveting everything they have. They’re driven by this urge not to lose, obsessing over petty competitions or who gets to go first. That’s usually where the fights start.

History shows sibling rivalries can escalate to catastrophic levels, even sparking wars that swallow entire nations. Look at Minamoto no Yoritomo and Yoshitsune, or Emperor Taizong and his brother in the Tang dynasty. Dark chapters like those must never repeat.

If I’m aiming for anything, it’s the ideal brotherhood of Guan Yu and Zhang Fei from Romance of the Three Kingdoms.

With those thoughts swirling in my mind, I made my way to the meet-up spot.

Dad had said he’d be delayed by last-minute work and would head there straight from the job. Film set design is no joke, apparently, even on a day this important. So, I had no choice but to get to the designated place on time. My steps felt heavy, though.

Arriving first and being stuck alone with the other family would be awkward as hell. Just the thought made my nerves twitch.

“This is exactly the kind of thing you bring a parent for…” I grumbled under my breath.

Then, up ahead, I spotted someone pacing back and forth, smartphone in hand. Their outfit caught my eye immediately.

Despite the summer heat, they wore a baggy hoodie paired with tight jeans that hugged slender legs. Judging by their build, probably a middle schooler.

I passed by casually.

But then, a faint, troubled murmur reached my ears: “What do I do…?”

An excuse to be late—perfect.

“Hey, you okay?”

Helping someone out would give me a solid reason for showing up late to the meet-up. That’s the calculated thought I had when I called out.

The boy turned with a startled “Huh?”

But the moment I saw him, my breath caught.

His hair was long for a boy, a semi-short cut that framed his face. Beneath slightly messy bangs peeked a strikingly beautiful, androgynous face. Long eyelashes framed clear, double-lidded eyes, and his lips were soft and rosy.

He was breathtaking—beautiful enough to make even another guy do a double-take.

The instant I spoke, awkwardness hit me. This must be what they mean by being starstruck.

“Uh, what’s up…?” His voice was cautious, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“Oh, uh… nothing, really.”

“Okay then, excuse me—”

“Wait, hold on!”

“Yes? Do you need something from me?”

Now he was on guard, taking a step back. I hurriedly plastered on a smile—probably looked shady as hell, but it was better than nothing.

“Just thought you might be in some kind of trouble.”

“Well, I am a bit troubled…” His face practically screamed, But that’s none of your business, right?

I glanced at his hand and saw the map app spinning aimlessly on his phone.

“Lost, huh?”

“W-Well…”

“So, where you headed?”

“Why does it matter to you where I’m going?”

“No reason, just thought I might help with directions.”

“Is this… a pickup line or something?”

“…Huh?”

I froze for a second. Sure, in this day and age, with all the talk of genderlessness, it’s not weird for a guy to hit on another guy. But I’m into girls, not boys. I don’t even have the guts to hit on anyone, period.

This kid’s looks probably meant he’d had guys approach him before.

“Sorry, but I’m not even one percent interested in you, so relax.”

“That phrasing kinda rubs me the wrong way…”

“Whatever. If you’re not in trouble, I’m heading out—”

“Wait, hold on!”

Turning back, I saw the boy with his arms crossed tightly over his chest, glaring at me.

“…What?”

“Is it really just about directions?”

“That’s all I was offering from the start.”

“Fine, then I’ll let you help…”

What a cheeky kid, I thought.

His tone, his choice of words—none of it was cute in the slightest. But, well, he had the face and height of a middle schooler, and his voice hadn’t even changed yet. I figured I’d show some big-brother generosity. Might do him some good in the long run… maybe.

“So, where you headed?”

“Uh… to this place called ‘Western Dining Kanon’…”

My eyes widened. “Whoa, what a coincidence.”

“Huh?”

“I’m heading to that same place right now.”

What were the odds our destinations would align? Too bad it wasn’t a cute girl, and I was just looking for an excuse to be late, but oh well.

“…So it is a pickup line?”

“I told you, it’s not. I’ve got actual business there.”

“Right…”

“Wanna head there together?”

“You’re not trying to lure me somewhere weird, are you?”

“If you’re worried, just walk a bit behind me. I’m going either way. See ya—”

I started walking, and soon enough, I heard footsteps hurrying after me. In the reflection of a shop window, I caught the boy trailing close behind.

He stayed silent the whole way, probably nervous. Meanwhile, I fought back a smirk as I led the way.

He’s kinda cute in his own way, isn’t he?

And so, with the boy following, I headed toward our destination.

＊ ＊ ＊

“Here we are.”

“You’re right. It says ‘Western Dining Kanon.’”

The boy and I tilted our heads up at the restaurant’s sign.

This place had been open for about two years, a spot I’d visit with Dad now and then. It was run by one of his old work buddies, or so I’d heard. The stylish lighting and eclectic knickknacks inside were apparently movie props, gifted for the grand opening.

“Well, I’m meeting someone here, so…”

“Got it. I’m heading in, then. Catch you later.”

“Um.”

“Hm? What’s up?”

“Sorry for doubting you earlier…” The boy bowed, his sincerity catching me off guard.

I flashed a grin. “Shouldn’t you be saying, Thanks for showing me the way?”

“Oh… Thank you, um, very much…” His shy expression was oddly endearing, and I pushed open the door, feeling a little lighter.

Inside, the chic interior unfolded before me. My eyes caught Dad waving from a table tucked in the back.

“Sorry for making you come alone.”

“It’s fine. You made it on time, huh?”

“Yeah, it’s a big day, so I hustled to wrap things up.”

Dad’s nervous energy was contagious, stirring a restless twitch in my chest. And no wonder. I was about to meet the woman who’d become my stepmom and the kid who’d become my little brother. No photos, no hints—just a blank slate, leaving me burning with curiosity about what they’d be like.

Half-listening to Dad’s small talk, my mind wandered, sketching out my future brother. His hobbies, his personality, his looks—what he was into, what kind of life he’d lived.

As we waited for the Tominaga family, I caught sight of figures approaching from the entrance. Dad stood, giving a small wave, and I followed suit, rising from my seat.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, Taichi-san.”

“No, no, we just got here ourselves. Miyuki-san, you didn’t get lost?”

“Not at all. —Oh, you must be Ryouta-kun? I’m Miyuki, the one dating your dad. Nice to meet you.”

Miyuki-san’s tone was light, followed by a deep, respectful bow. My first thought: not just youthful, but polite. As she raised her head, I realized she was stunning—like time had frozen her at thirty. Her refined features were accentuated by subtle makeup, and her brightly dyed hair only added to her striking presence.

Her gentle smile carried a maternal warmth, tinged with a soft, almost carefree air. If I were younger, she’d be the kind of gorgeous mom I’d boast about to everyone.

But then, I didn’t know where to look. She’d had a kid, yet her figure was flawless, radiating an allure that felt almost dangerously seductive. There was a charm about her that could unravel any guy.

In short, she was captivating in a way that was hard to ignore.

I knew it was wrong to see my future stepmom like that, but a guy’s instincts kick in—it’s just how we’re built. Living under the same roof as someone this stunning? That sounded way too thrilling.

Lost in those thoughts, I noticed someone trailing slowly behind Miyuki-san. The figure looked familiar.

“Huh? You’re the kid from earlier.”

“Oh…”

It was him—the slightly cheeky, overly cautious boy I’d guided here. Wait, so he’s my future brother? Not a middle schooler, but a first-year high schooler, one year below me. He seemed a bit underdeveloped for his age, though.

“Hm? You two know each other?”

“Yeah, uh, kinda… We ran into each other outside.”

Forcing a smile to mask my unease, I extended my right hand toward him. “Let me introduce myself again. I’m Majima Ryouta. And you are—”

“Look, I’m gonna say this upfront, but I’m not here for any cozy bonding.”

—My outstretched hand sliced through empty air.

“Huh…?” My smile stiffened, caught off guard.

“Oh, and that goes for you too, old man.”

The jab even landed on Dad. I glanced over, catching him stammering, “Uh, w-what…?”

Miyuki-san jumped in, her tone sharp but apologetic. “Akira! Oh, I’m so sorry, my kid’s got such a blunt way of talking… This is my child, Akira. —Come on, Akira, say something!”

“Yo.”

His curt mutter barely qualified as a greeting before he pulled out his phone and started fiddling with it.

“Hahaha… I’d be thrilled if you could slowly warm up to us as a family…” Dad’s hopeful words trailed off, met with Akira’s flat, “Sure.”

“A-anyway, let’s sit down! Right?”

An uneasy tension settled over us, the weight of the impending remarriage palpable. Was this just teenage rebellion? Or was Akira deliberately pushing us away? Maybe he was just shy or nervous. He had apologized sincerely and thanked me earlier, so there might be a chance to connect. If we could just break the ice…

For now, I’d support Dad and Miyuki-san while keeping an eye on this Akira-kun. First, though, I needed to retract my awkwardly dangling hand.

＊　＊　＊

After that, we settled around the table, picking at our food while making small talk, desperately trying to keep the mood light. I nodded along to Dad and Miyuki-san’s conversation, tossing in an occasional “uh-huh.” Honestly, it was all I could do.

Over the past hour, every attempt Dad or I made to talk to Akira was met with a brick wall of “yeah,” “huh?” “yes,” “no,” “dunno,” “sure,” or “maybe.” I was drained from trying to crack his curt, standoffish shell, so I resigned myself to playing bobblehead, echoing the adults’ chatter.

Sometimes, I’d catch Akira’s gaze, but he’d scowl and look away instantly. I wanted to get along—after all, we were about to become brothers—but for some reason, it felt like he already despised me.

As the meeting drew to a close, the atmosphere finally started to warm, at least a little (with one glaring exception). Then, out of nowhere, Dad, in a well-meaning but misguided gesture, slid the dessert menu toward Akira.

“We’re about to order dessert. What do you feel like?” His rare, gentle smile carried no ulterior motives, just genuine kindness.

“Not really in the mood today.”

Akira’s words shattered the moment like glass.

“Ugh…” Dad let out a groan, but if I’d been the one offering the menu, I might’ve collapsed on the spot.

“Akira, come on!” Miyuki-san interjected. “Oh, Taichi-san, I think I’ll go with this shortcake…”

“Haha, I’ll have the same as Miyuki-san, then…”

The adults forced polite laughter, trying to salvage the mood. I sat there, quietly reeling. Meanwhile, Akira sipped his soft drink, utterly unfazed, his aloofness unshaken. Was he oblivious to the tension, or deliberately ignoring it? One thing was crystal clear.

—This guy’s been against the remarriage from the start.

Swallowing a sigh that threatened to escape, I excused myself to the bathroom.

＊　＊　＊

Stepping out of the restroom, I heard a hesitant “Um.”

It was Akira, waiting for me, nervously rubbing his left elbow with his right hand.

“What’s up?” I couldn’t help but sound a bit curt myself, worn thin from the day’s tension.

I forced a smile, though my face felt stiff from all the fake ones I’d plastered on earlier.

“Earlier… I mean, I’ve been kinda cold since we met, so, um—” Akira hesitated, his voice low. “I’m sorry.”

“…Don’t worry about it. I kinda get it. You’re not thrilled about our parents’ remarriage, right?”

“No, that’s not it—” His face flushed, and he rushed to explain. “—I’m not against Mom and your dad getting remarried, really!”

That caught me off guard. So he wasn’t outright opposed to the remarriage.

“It’s just… I want us to respect each other’s boundaries, you know? That’s all…”

The word “boundaries” lingered in my mind. I was curious about what he was guarding so carefully, but we weren’t close enough for me to pry.

“We’re gonna be family, so we can figure things out as we go, right?”

“Yeah, you’re right. Since we’ll be living together, eventually—”

“Nah, becoming family and living together are totally different things.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“Well… what do you think family is?”

“I guess… people who live together? Like a community where everyone plays their role?”

“That’s a solid take, yeah.”

“Is your view different?”

“Hmm…” I rested my chin in my hand, hesitating. My answer about “family” had always been clear, but putting it into words felt heavy.

“—I guess you could say Mendel’s laws don’t have any blood running through them, you know?”

Akira frowned. “Uh… meaning, what exactly?”

“Even if our parents remarry, they’re still our parents, and we’re still their kids—siblings, you know?”

“…I’m not sure I follow.”

“There’s a big difference between being related by blood and sharing blood. Becoming a family means letting your hearts connect with the people you live with.”

“Letting hearts connect?”

“Yeah… it’s not blood, but hearts that are tied together.”

“Hearts…”

“Simply put, I want us to be a close family, you and me.”

I flashed a smile, and Akira’s face turned bright red.

“Don’t you feel embarrassed saying stuff like that?”

“A little, maybe? —What, you don’t like the idea?”

“…It’s not easy, but—” Akira paused, seeming to weigh his words. “—You don’t have to call me ‘you.’”

His cheeks flushed deeper as he spoke.

“Then what should I call you?”

“…Just call me Akira.”

That small gesture felt like Akira’s way of meeting me halfway, as best he could. To me, it was a massive step forward.

“Got it. Akira, nice to meet you.” I extended my right hand again.

“Yeah.”

Following my lead, Akira shyly reached out. Our hands met for the first time. His was cold, smooth, and soft—delicate, like fine glass that might shatter under the slightest pressure.

We both grew a little embarrassed and pulled back at the same moment. The timing was so perfect that our eyes met, and we burst out laughing.

Maybe, just maybe, we’d started to break the ice.

＊　＊　＊

The night breeze brushed against us as Dad and I were walking home from the meeting.

“—So, yeah, Akira’s just awkward, but he’s a good guy.”

I gave Dad a quick recap of how I’d approached Akira when he seemed lost and how we’d ended up shaking hands. Dad let out a relieved sigh, patting my shoulder lightly.

“Thanks, Ryouta.”

“Thanks for what? Stop, you’re creeping me out…” Embarrassed, I looked away, and Dad chuckled.

“Miyuki-san told me Akira doesn’t warm up to people easily, so I’m relieved.”

“Huh…” Something nagged at me, so I pressed further.

“Hey, Dad, why does Akira keep people at such a distance?”

“Distance?”

“I get that we’re strangers, but you’d think he’d be a bit friendlier, right?”

It was odd when I thought about it. I understood he was awkward—it wasn’t about liking or disliking people; he just seemed to want walls up around him. Teenagers often prefer their space, especially with strangers.

“Look, I’m gonna say this upfront, but I’m not here for any cozy bonding.”

But he wasn’t against the remarriage.

“It’s just… I want us to respect each other’s boundaries, you know? That’s all…”

Was he trying to say the remarriage and his own way of being were separate things?

“Just call me Akira…”

Was that his way of closing the gap, even just a little?

I tilted my head toward the starry sky, thoughts of Akira swirling. For some reason, worry crept in. It might’ve been overstepping, but I felt that leaving him to his awkwardness wouldn’t do him any good. If he regretted his cold words enough to apologize, then I had to do something about that—as someone about to become his family. I had no right to lecture him on how to deal with people, and I wasn’t exactly the smoothest guy myself, but still…

“Why’s Akira so bad at dealing with people?”

“Well, I don’t know if this answers it, but since you’re an adult now and we’re becoming family, I’ll tell you…” Dad’s expression grew complicated. “Miyuki-san’s ex-husband… well, let’s just say he was a real piece of work.”

“Piece of work how?”

“Drinking, smoking, gambling—the usual. But he’d also disappear for days at a time, and when he came back, he wouldn’t work for a while, just drifting along.”

“So, basically, a deadbeat.”

“Well, Miyuki-san laughed it off, saying he was chasing dreams, but… growing up watching a father like that, maybe Akira’s got some trust issues with men.”

I’d heard of women having trust issues with men, but if it could happen with the same gender… Did Akira even have close friends his own age? That thought started to gnaw at me.

“Trust issues with men, huh… So that’s why he pushes us away like that…”

“I don’t think she’s a bad kid, though.”

“I agree. Akira’s definitely a good guy.”

If Dad’s theory held, it wasn’t about us specifically. If the issue was men in general, he’d likely act that way with any guy. In that case, what I could do was—

“Then we’ve gotta become such a great family that we overwrite Akira’s past!”

—Exactly that: become a real family.

“Ryouta…”

“Right, Dad?”

Whatever Akira’s past held, we were about to become family. So the only thing I could do was take the first step toward him.

“—Mendel’s laws don’t have any blood running through them, you know?”

Not just for Akira, but for Dad, Miyuki-san—and for myself too.

“…You’re absolutely right, Ryouta.”

“So leave it to me, Dad.”

Even if he finds me annoying, I’m gonna keep reaching out. So Akira can smile and get along with anyone. So when he grows up, he’ll think he was lucky to end up with this family…

“By the way, Ryouta, how are you planning to get along with Akira?”

“Well, at first, less like brothers and more like friends, I guess?”

“…You got any friends?”

“I-I do! Like, one or two!”

“Just one or two, huh…”

“Stop looking at me like I’m pathetic. It’s quality over quantity.”

I puffed up with some bravado, but… friends. What are friends, anyway?

“For now, I don’t mind cheeky younger siblings, and Akira’s got some cute sides too. As his big brother, I’m gonna dote on him.”

“…You sure that’s okay? Don’t overdo it…”

“I got this!”

“Alright, alright, I’m counting on you with Akira… though I’m kinda worried…”

Looking back now, I realize. Dad, why didn’t you tell me back then!? Akira wasn’t my stepbrother—she was my stepsister.

Well, I guess I’m to blame too for assuming Akira was a guy based on the name, looks, personality, and way of talking.