Episode 3: “So, I ended up playing games with my new stepbrother…”

A few days had passed since Akira moved in.

We weren’t exactly bonding like siblings should. Things felt… well, awkward, to put it mildly.

Akira mostly kept to himself, holed up in his room. We only crossed paths during meals or when he emerged for something specific.

Today, I caught him in the living room.

“Akira, wanna play a game?”

“I’ll pass. Entrance exams are the day after tomorrow.”

And that was that. I couldn’t shake the sense he was keeping me at a distance.

No progress, no connection.

On another note, Akira had decided to transfer to my school, Yūki Academy. His old high school was over an hour away, and since the academic level was comparable, he chose ours.

If we’d be attending the same school, we might end up walking there and back together. Like the Ueda siblings—not that they’re that close, mind you—but going to school side by side could be kind of fun.

“How about I help you study?” I offered.

“I’m good. I can handle it myself. Don’t want to lean on anyone.”

“Got it. Well, good luck then.”

“Yeah.”

His blunt attitude was nothing new, so I didn’t let it get to me. I was starting to get used to it.

Akira was the type who preferred doing everything solo. I get it—I’d been raised as an only child too.

Still, I wanted to bridge the gap, maybe get a little closer.

So, as his older brother, I decided to call someone with more experience for advice.

“So that’s the deal. What do you think, Kousei? How can I get closer to my little sibling?”

(Kousei) Like I’d know. You’re asking the wrong guy.

Yeah, okay, calling Kousei was probably a dumb move.

(Kousei) Besides, I’ve got a little sister, not a brother.

“You’re right. Why did I even ask you?”

(Kousei) I’m hanging up.

“Whoa—hold on! Okay, then…”

(Kousei) What?

“How do you think I can get along better with a younger guy?”

(Kousei) Why would I care about getting chummy with some younger dude?

Man, this guy was so not cut out for giving advice. I kind of saw it coming, but still, seriously?

(Kousei) Look, just don’t overthink it. If you come on too strong, you’ll push them away.

“Yeah, maybe you’re right…”

Kousei’s words made me pause and reflect. The more I reached out to Akira, the more he seemed to pull away. I hated to admit it, but my efforts might be backfiring.

(Kousei) Oh, perfect timing—

“Huh? Kousei, what’s up?”

A brief pause, then—

(—Wait, what—Onii-chan!? —H-Hello? Ryouta-senpai?)

Suddenly, Hinata was on the line.

“Hinata-chan? Where’s Kousei?”

(Hinata) Haha, Onii-chan told me to take over~…

That jerk pawned me off on his sister again, didn’t he?

(Hinata) So, Senpai, what’s this about a problem?

“Oh, well, it’s like this—”

I laid out the whole situation for Hinata.

(Hinata) Got it. You want to get closer to your younger sibling who’s around your age, right?

“Yeah. Any good ideas?”

(Hinata) How about finding a shared hobby?

“A shared hobby, huh…”

I’d considered that, but Akira never opened up about what he liked. He was always cooped up in his room, and I had no clue what he was doing in there. Barging in felt like a surefire way to make him resent me, so how was I supposed to figure out his interests?

“He doesn’t even tell me what he’s into…”

(Hinata) Then maybe ask someone who knows him better?

“Someone who—oh, I get it!”

Someone who knew him—Miyuki-san. A mom would definitely know a thing or two about her kid’s hobbies.

“Got it. Thanks, Hinata-chan.”

(Hinata) Happy to help!

“You really saved me. Can you put Kousei back on?”

(Hinata) Sure thing. —Onii-chan, he wants you back—

After a short pause, Kousei returned.

(Kousei) Did Hinata’s advice help you at all?

“Yeah, like a thousand times more than yours.”

(Kousei) Then call her directly next time.

“That’s, uh, kinda…”

(Kousei) What, why’re you hesitating?

“Well, you know… she’s your little sister…”

(Kousei) So if I wasn’t her brother, you’d be texting her directly?

Ouch, he had me there. He knew I didn’t have the guts to call girls.

“That’s just hypothetical… Anyway, how would you feel if I was texting Hinata-chan all the time? As her brother, wouldn’t that bug you?”

(Kousei) Nah, doesn’t matter to me who’s texting who.

“Man, you are so cold…”

(Kousei) You’re the one overcomplicating things. Keep it simple.

“That’s rich, coming from you… Maybe you should overthink things a bit more.”

(Kousei) Whatever. I’m hanging up. —Oh, and text or call Hinata once in a while, yeah? Later.

Kousei rattled that off and hung up.

Me, contact Hinata-chan directly? The guy was always shoving his problems onto her. Not cool.

Besides, Hinata was genuinely a good kid, no sarcasm. She’d probably answer any question I asked and take on any favor, even if she didn’t want to. I couldn’t just keep leaning on her like she was some errand girl.

Still, I couldn’t help thinking that if I got stuck with Akira again, maybe asking Hinata for advice wouldn’t be a bad idea.

＊ ＊ ＊

After the call with the Ueda siblings, I headed downstairs and found Miyuki-san in the living room. With Dad out for work, she was sprawled on the sofa, engrossed in a drama.

“Um, Miyuki-san, can I talk to you for a moment?”

“What’s up, Ryouta-kun? Hungry?”

“No, it’s not that. I actually wanted to ask you something.”

“Me? About what?” Her eyes sparkled with curiosity as she patted the spot beside her. “Oh, sit here.”

I settled next to her, the unfamiliarity of a one-on-one chat making my nerves jangle. It was our first time talking like this, and the awkwardness clung to me like damp clothes.

“It’s about Akira,” I started.

“Oh no, did that child do something again?”

“No, no, nothing like that. I just… wanted to ask about him. I’m trying to get closer to him, but I’m struggling to find a way to connect.”

Miyuki-san’s face lit up with a warm, wide smile. “That’s so sweet, Ryouta-kun! You’re thinking about her, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, well… We’re siblings now, even if it’s just step-siblings. I want to know what he likes, his hobbies, that kind of thing.”

“Let’s see…” Miyuki-san tapped her chin thoughtfully. “She loves reading manga, I think.”

“Manga?”

“I don’t know much about it, but she’s always buried in those manga for boys. And gaming—she’s glued to her phone playing something or other.”

My eyes widened. That’s exactly the stuff I’m into! This could be easier than I thought. Next time, I’d casually bring up manga or games and see where it led.

“Thanks so much,” I said, relief washing over me. “I’ve been kinda worried since we haven’t really bonded yet.”

“Even as her mom, there’s a lot I don’t get about her. But having a great big brother like you, Ryouta-kun, I’m sure she’s thrilled.”

Her words stirred a flicker of unease in me. “You think Akira’s thrilled? What if he just finds me annoying? Like I’m meddling…”

“Why would you think that?”

“Well, when we first met, he had this ‘don’t get too chummy’ vibe…” I trailed off, recalling Akira’s guarded demeanor.

Miyuki-san’s face clouded with unease. “That’s… probably because she’s still hung up on her real dad.”

“Akira’s real dad?”

“I’m sure Taichi-san told you, but he was… a difficult man.”

“Yeah, I heard a little,” I admitted, recalling Dad’s brief mention of a deadbeat who neglected his family.

“But Akira still loves her dad,” Miyuki-san continued, her voice heavy. “She’s struggling to adjust to this new life. It’s not that Taichi-san or you, Ryouta-kun, are the problem…”

Questions swirled in my mind. Akira loves his deadbeat dad? Still? Did I mishear—did she mean loved? I’d assumed Akira was wary of guys, but was I completely off?

As if sensing my confusion, Miyuki-san went on. “My ex-husband, Akira’s dad, was a struggling actor. Always making excuses, saying he just hadn’t gotten his big break.”

“His dad was an actor?”

“Yeah… He landed a few drama roles, but they never took off. In the end, he turned to drinking, and, well, you know the rest from Taichi-san.”

“He fell apart, huh…”

“Yes. But even though he was irresponsible, he was a good dad in front of Akira. He’d buy her all sorts of things, take her places…” Miyuki-san’s expression darkened, her voice tinged with pain.

It felt like I was treading on fragile ground, but her eyes held a weight, like she’d been bottling something up and needed to let it out. For Akira’s sake, I decided to listen.

“Even before the divorce, our relationship had gone cold,” she said quietly. “We ended up splitting because of differences in values.”

It sounded like a familiar story—a rift between a couple over irreconcilable differences. Even a high schooler like me could understand that much.

“But to an eight-year-old Akira, explaining ‘differences in values’ wouldn’t make sense, right?” she continued.

“Yeah, he’d probably be like, ‘What’s that?’”

“Caught between us, Akira had nothing to do with our problems. She grew up not really understanding why, and at some point, she stopped saying ‘Dad’…”

I nodded slowly. I’d been through something similar. When my parents divorced, I asked Dad why just once. All he said was, “We got divorced.” He couldn’t tell his seven-year-old son that Mom left because she had an affair and wanted to be with someone else. But he got one thing wrong—“divorce” isn’t some magic word that shuts a kid up, no matter how convenient it is for adults. Kids don’t care about adult problems; they just get dragged along.

I understood enough to hate the mom who abandoned me and didn’t press Dad further. It felt unfair to blame him when he’d vowed to raise me as his own. But Akira… had he made peace with it in his heart? I hoped he didn’t resent Miyuki-san.

“Still, I’m surprised Akira loves his real dad so much.”

Miyuki-san gave a small, bittersweet laugh. “Her awkwardness, her bluntness—she got that from him. Even her way of talking is influenced by him. I know it’s not intentional, but sometimes it feels like she’s throwing it in my face. I’m honestly scared she might resent me…”

Her anxious expression tugged at my heart. She was probably terrified that Akira blamed her for the divorce, for being separated from his dad. Carrying that guilt, she might have given up on trying to make Akira understand. It seemed Miyuki-san had resigned herself to bearing that weight forever. They say regret doesn’t change the past, but some regrets linger, unyielding.

“Ryouta-kun, did you ever resent your parents for divorcing?” she asked suddenly.

“No, I’m grateful to Dad,” I said firmly. “But… there hasn’t been a single day I didn’t hate the woman who was my mom.”

“I see…” Her voice was soft, understanding.

“Our situations are different, but I think I get how Akira feels, just a little,” I added.

“Really?” Her eyes flickered with hope.

“I don’t think Akira resents you for your decision. He’s in high school now—he probably gets that some things can’t be helped. Just a hunch, though…”

Miyuki-san gave a weak smile, her voice barely above a whisper. “I want to believe that.”

＊ ＊ ＊

After Miyuki-san headed out for grocery shopping, I plopped down in the living room and decided to fire up a video game. I’m not some hardcore gamer—gaming’s just a way to pass the time. Truth be told, I’d rather be flipping through light novels or manga, losing myself in their pages.

When it comes to games, I usually pick up whatever’s trending, dabble for a bit, and then move on without finishing. It’s not like I’m fickle, exactly, but I don’t get too attached, so nothing really sticks. I know it’s a bad habit, and it spills over into other parts of my life too.

My eyes landed on Ensamu 2, and I figured, why not? End of the Samurai 2 is a fighting game set in the Bakumatsu period, a chaotic slice of Japan’s history that I can’t get enough of. It’s brimming with characters like Shinsengumi members, Sakamoto Ryoma, Okada Izo, and even some lesser-known swordsmen—a treasure trove for Bakumatsu nerds like me.

I usually main Hijikata Toshizo, his sharp moves matching my mood, but sometimes I switch to Katsura Kintaro. His super move, the Kanrin Maru Cannon Barrage, is just too epic to resist.

[T/N: The Kanrin Maru (咸臨丸) was Japan’s first steam corvette, delivered in 1857. Captained by Katsu Kaishū, it sailed to San Francisco in 1860, symbolizing Japan’s naval modernization. Its cannon barrage in the story references this historic ship.]

I still can’t wrap my head around why a warship shows up on land in Ensamu 2. And that cheat code to play as Perry? Is he even a samurai? The game’s packed with quirks like that, which might be part of its charm—or so I tell myself. Kousei called it a “trash game,” but I can’t help but enjoy its absurdity.

I’d been playing for about an hour when Akira peeked into the living room, his eyes catching on the screen.

“Um, where’s Mom?”

“Miyuki-san’s out grocery shopping.”

The conversation stalled there, but Akira’s gaze lingered on the TV, curiosity flickering in his eyes.

“Wanna play?”

“N-No… I wasn’t looking because I wanted to…”

Oh, he definitely wants to play.

“C’mon, join me. I’m getting bored playing alone.”

“B-But I’ve never played it…”

“No worries. The controls are like any other fighting game. Just mess around, and you’ll pick it up fast.”

“But my entrance exam’s coming up…”

“Taking a break’s important, right? Just one round. Humor me.”

Akira hesitated, then gave a reluctant nod and sat beside me, clutching the controller like it might bite. I switched to versus mode and handed it over.

“Here, you’re Player 2. Ever used this console?”

“Kinda. At a friend’s place…”

“Cool. Feel free to use ours anytime. No need to hold back.”

“Th-Thanks…”

Maybe when I’d invited him before and he brushed it off, he was just being polite, not wanting to intrude. I pushed the thought aside and focused on the game.

“Alright, let’s give it a go.” I selected Tokugawa Yoshinobu, my go-to after Katsura Kintaro.

Akira, meanwhile, picked Nakazawa Koto—a female swordmaster who joined the Shinchogumi, a lesser-known ronin squad, while disguised as a man. The Shinchogumi’s pretty niche, not exactly common knowledge.

“Pretty good taste, huh?”

“I just picked her ’cause she looked cool.”

“Oh, I see… Well, I’ll let you choose the stage—”

The game auto-selected Goryokaku. A Tokugawa shogun like Yoshinobu clashing with a Shinchogumi member like Nakazawa Koto was already absurd, but at Goryokaku? As a history buff, the anachronism made me wince, but there was a chaotic fun to it.

“Just so you know, I’m not skilled enough to go easy on you.”

“Whaaat? But it’s my first time playing this game…”

“No mercy! Here we go!”

Even if my opponent’s a beginner, once they pick up a controller, I don’t hold back or underestimate them. Especially when it’s my little sibling—I’m not about to let my guard down.

“Time to show you the pride and dignity of an older brother!”

“I think a real older brother would let the younger one win sometimes…”

Too soft. As an older brother, there’s no way I’m losing to my little sibling—not today, at least.

—Twenty minutes later.

“—Gah! H-Hold on, Akira-san, stop—STOP! That’s just unfair!” I yelped, my fingers fumbling on the controller.

“Take that!”

“Whoa! Wait… Guard—argh, I lost…”

I got utterly crushed.

The first match was mine, no contest—experience gave me the edge. But after about ten minutes, Akira started catching on. By the second match, he was matching me blow for blow, forcing me to scrape by with a narrow win. Then, in the third, he obliterated me, leaving me with nothing while he still had one life left.

I wasn’t slacking or going easy—I was dead serious. In just three matches, Akira had caught up to my level. Or maybe… I’m just that weak.

“Damn, you’re pretty good, Akira.”

“Ehehe! That’s my win!” he chirped, flashing a bright smile.

That smile—rare and unguarded—lit up his face in a way I hadn’t seen in a while. Seeing it sparked a quiet satisfaction in me, like I’d accomplished something just by drawing it out of him.

But as an older brother—no, as a history nerd—I couldn’t let myself go down like that in Ensamu 2.

“Akira, one more round.”

“Fine, fine.”

I switched to my main, Hijikata Toshizo, ready to reclaim my pride. Akira, clearly taken with Nakazawa Koto, stuck with her.

“My serious Hijikata’s on a whole different level, you know.”

“Oh, really? Let’s see it then.”

But as the fourth and fifth matches unfolded, I could feel Akira growing stronger with every move, while I… I was falling apart. My combos faltered, my timing slipped, and I couldn’t even see a path to victory anymore.

“H-Hey, Akira-san… Could you maybe go a little easier on me…?” I pleaded, my pride as an older brother crumbling into dust.

“I’m not skilled enough to go easy either! —Take that!”

“Gwah!?”

…Well, it all worked out, didn’t it?

The goal of this game was to get closer to Akira, and that mission was accomplished. I’d made him smile, and he was clearly having a blast. That was more than enough to call it a success.

But that nagging feeling—what was it?

—I won’t marry someone weaker than me. If you want me, defeat me.

Nakazawa Koto’s victory line grated on my nerves. “Hahaha, I won again♪” Akira’s voice carried a gleeful edge, reveling in his triumph. Was he just enjoying thrashing me, or was this his way of venting some pent-up frustration? I didn’t want to believe it, but with how much he was savoring this, it wasn’t impossible.

“Hey, Akira, how about we switch to a different game?” I suggested, trying to shift gears. “Maybe a co-op one where we work together.”

“Ehh? But I’m finally getting the hang of this one,” he protested, eyes still glued to the screen.

“Come on, we can come back to Ensamu 2 later—”

“No, just a bit more—”

That’s when I started to stand up, but Akira grabbed my arm, catching me off balance.

“Whoa!” I stumbled, tipping forward.

“W-Wait… Aniki…”

Before I knew it, I’d fallen onto him, pinning him beneath me on the couch. His eyes were wide, frozen in shock, his breath caught.

“A-Are you okay? Sorry, I pulled too hard…” I said, scrambling to check on him.

“No, don’t worry about it,” he mumbled, his face inches from mine.

Up close, Akira’s features were striking—almost unfairly beautiful. His clear eyes, framed by long lashes, and his translucent skin flushed faintly. It was hard not to stare, a twinge of jealousy mixing with admiration.

“…Hey, Akira.”

“W-What, Aniki?”

His eyes glistened, betraying his nervousness, and a faint blush spread across his face. His uneven breaths only made it more obvious. A mischievous grin crept onto my lips—I couldn’t help it.

No, I’m probably just genuinely mean.

“You really do have a beautiful face, don’t you?”

“—!?” Akira’s face lit up like a bonfire, his eyes darting anywhere but at me.

“Haha, don’t get all shy. It’s making me embarrassed.”

“W-What’s with you, Aniki, saying stuff like that so casually! Aren’t you embarrassed!?”

“Well, we’re siblings, so not really.”

“E-Even between siblings, saying that out of nowhere is…” He trailed off, clearly at a loss, though he didn’t pull away—just sat there, flustered and unsure.

Maybe I could push this a bit further. Or rather, I couldn’t resist anymore. Ever since we started spending time together, there was something I’d been itching to do, and now the moment felt right.

“Akira, close your eyes for a sec.”

“Huh!? W-Wait… What are you planning!?”

“Just do it, quick.”

“N-No way!”

“It’s fine, it’ll be quick.”

“Aniki, but… it’s my first time…”

“Just shut up and close your eyes. It won’t hurt—”

Finally, Akira gave in, his face burning red as he squeezed his eyes shut. His tightly pressed lips parted slightly, tilting upward, as if bracing for something. I reached out with both hands toward his flushed cheeks.

And then—

“Mmph!?”

—I pinched both of Akira’s cheeks, my fingers sinking into their softness. His face squished upward, lips puckering into a comically exaggerated pout.

“…A-Aniki, what’re you doing?”

“Just confirming that you’ve got super soft cheeks, huh?”

Akira swatted my hands away, his eyes flashing with indignation. “What the heck was that!?”

“I was just thinking, if your face is this soft, you could probably make all sorts of expressions. You’re always so stone-faced—it’s such a waste.” I leaned back, picturing Kousei’s deadpan glare. He’s got the stoic act covered. “You should smile more, like you did earlier. It suits you way better.”

“Smile… suits me…” Akira muttered, turning his head, a sulky edge to his voice.

Maybe I’d gone too far. “Sorry, I startled you, huh?”

“Y-Yeah… You really got my heart racing…”

“I couldn’t help it. Your face is so pretty, it made me want to tease you.”

“D-Don’t call me pretty… I’m not that pretty…”

With a face that gorgeous, was he seriously lacking confidence? Or maybe “pretty” wasn’t the right word for a guy? I shrugged it off. “Well, I think you’re pretty, at least.”

“Hmph, even if Aniki says it, it doesn’t make me happy at all!” Akira’s voice rose, sharp and flustered. “Aniki baka, baka!”

“Whoa!” He shoved me back and bolted for the stairs, his footsteps echoing in a frantic thud.

Who would he want to hear it from, then? “‘Baka, baka’? What are you, an elementary schooler?”

That nagging feeling crept back, but before I could dwell on it, Miyuki-san stepped through the door, bags in hand. She must’ve passed Akira on the stairs.

“I’m back~ Oh, Ryouta-kun?” She tilted her head, a curious smile on her face. “I saw Akira running upstairs with his face all red. Did something happen? Did you two fight?”

“Nah, it’s no big deal, don’t worry about it.”

—No, looking back, it was a big deal…

What the heck did I just say to Akira?

And what the heck did I just do?

It’s too late for regrets now…

But at the time, I naively thought I’d managed to close the distance between me and Akira, even just a little.