Episode 7: “So, my stepsister came home wearing a school uniform…”

It’s been a week since I found out Akira was my stepsister.

During that time, I’ve barely been able to sleep, staying up all night in bed and only drifting off just before sunrise.

And if you ask me, the reason for all this is none other than Akira herself.

Take, for instance, those moments when I’m alone in my room, sprawled across my bed with a manga in hand.

“Aniki, mind if I read some manga here too?” Akira chirps, strolling into my room without a hint of hesitation.

I don’t have any real reason to refuse, and it’d be odd to flee my own space. So, we end up sharing the room, side by side. But when I’m lying on my bed—

“DIIIIVE!” she cries, launching herself into a flying body press that lands square on my back.

“Guh! M-My spine…”

Then, as if that weren’t enough, she clings to me like a koala, making the situation painfully awkward.

“Hahaha, Aniki, you let your guard down! So, whatcha reading?”

“Akira, could you maybe get off me?”

“Mmm… it’s just the right kind of firm and big… feels so perfect…”

“I-Is that so? Well, now that you’ve confirmed it, could you please get off?”

“Yawn… it’s so warm, I’m getting kinda sleepy…”

“Don’t fall asleep!”

“Kinda… feels like Dad’s back…”

“Who are you calling Dad?”

“Zzz… zzz…”

“I said don’t fall asleep…”

If this were a little brother, I might chalk it up to harmless roughhousing. But with a sister—a girl—it’s an entirely different matter. She’s soft, smells faintly sweet, and I’m utterly at a loss for how to handle it.

I’ve come to realize that my room, when it’s just the two of us, transforms into a dangerously private space.

Hoping to avoid the chaos of my room, I started spending more time in the living room.

“Aniki, let’s play Ensamu 2!”

“Oh, uh, sure…”

Just a game, I thought. However, it’s a big mistake. The moment I let my guard down—

“Another win! Undefeated streak continues!”

“Whoa!?”

—she flung her arms around me in a triumphant hug.

Why she was hugging the loser, of all people, is beyond me.

‘I won’t marry someone weaker than me. If you want me, beat me first.’

“Urk…” Nakazawa Koto’s iconic line from the game hits me like a sledgehammer, twisting my already frazzled nerves.

“C’mon, next round, next round!”

“I’m totally gonna win the next one too, though!”

It’s been like this for an entire week—Akira seizing every chance to get close. And not just close; there’s always some kind of physical contact, far beyond mere proximity. I try to keep my cool on the outside, but inside, I’m a tangled mess of nerves.

Meanwhile, Miyuki-san, watching this whole scene unfold in the living room, beams brightly. “My, my, you two are getting along so well!”

Her cheerful tone brushes it off far too lightly.

No, no, this isn’t just “getting along.” Before, when I thought she was my brother, I didn’t think twice about it. But now, knowing Akira’s my sister—a girl—I’m hyper-aware of her every move, and I’m utterly lost in this delicate situation.

Miyuki-san’s carefree attitude doesn’t help, and I’m certain asking Dad for advice would get me nowhere.

Desperate for advice, I decided to call someone with experience as an older brother to a sister.

“Hey, Kousei, turns out my brother’s actually my sister—”

“What? That makes no sense. If your eyes are bad, go to a hospital. If your brain’s bad, go to school. I’m busy, so I’m hanging up—”

And just like that, he cut me off in a flash.

Kousei’s been swamped with his new part-time job lately, and getting through to him is near impossible these days. When I finally do, this is the response I get. Why am I even friends with that guy?

I could try messaging him on LIME, but he’d probably just toss back a curt “Ask Hinata” and dodge the whole thing.

As if I could talk to Hinata about something this sensitive. If I told him, ‘Turns out my stepmom’s kid isn’t my brother but my sister,’ I can already picture his reaction—a long sigh and an eye-roll, nothing more.

Anyway, there’s that saying, “If you care too much, you lose,” so I just have to try not to overthink it.

But Akira’s words kept echoing in my head—something about this being “training” until I get used to it.

The more I mulled it over, the more sleep slipped away, leaving me staring at the ceiling night after night.

＊ ＊ ＊

August 20th.

I dragged myself out of bed around noon and shuffled into the living room, only to find it empty. Akira and Miyuki-san were nowhere in sight. A note on the dining table caught my eye: “We’re stepping out for a bit.” Dad had already left for work that morning, so for the first time in a while, I had the house to myself. The solitude felt strangely liberating.

I sprawled out, munching on snacks and catching up on recorded anime, savoring the quiet until around three when the front door swung open.

“We’re home!”

“Welcome back. Where’d you guys go? …Wait, what?”

My eyes landed on Akira, standing just behind Miyuki-san, and my breath caught. She was wearing a uniform—the one from Yūki Academy. Our school’s uniform, designed by a costume company tied to a certain idol group in collaboration with a renowned manufacturer, had a reputation for being adorable, even beyond the school’s walls. Some girls applied to Yūki Academy just to wear it.

And Akira? In that uniform? Obviously, she looked absurdly cute.

“Hehe, so, Aniki, what do you think…?”

“W-What do I think? It suits you really well, yeah…”

Her face flushed a bright red, and somehow, that made my own cheeks heat up in response.

“Second semester’s starting soon, so we went to pick up her uniform.”

“O-Oh, I see…”

“But, you know, isn’t the skirt a bit too short?”

Akira’s expression twisted into one of exasperation, as if this wasn’t the first time they’d had this debate. “I told you, this length is totally normal!”

“But at your old school, it was down to your knees, wasn’t it?”

“That’s ’cause their rules were super strict. I’ve always wanted to wear one this short.”

Now that she mentioned it, the skirt did seem short—about the same length as Hinata’s, but on Akira, it felt more striking, probably because I wasn’t used to seeing her in one.

“Still, if it’s that short, it might flip up in the wind,”

“It’s not gonna flip that easily. —Aniki, you like this length, don’t you?”

“Huh!? Me!?” I really didn’t want to be dragged into this. Was it okay for her to decide her skirt length based on what I liked? And since when did I say I preferred short skirts? That was pure assumption—though, to be fair, it’s not like I disliked them either.

“Well, most students at our school wear them about that length. Even the longer ones barely reach the knees.”

Miyuki-san didn’t look entirely convinced, her gaze lingering skeptically on Akira’s uniform.

＊ ＊ ＊

After a bit, Akira announced she was going to change and bounded upstairs, leaving me alone with Miyuki-san in the living room.

“Still, I never would’ve thought Akira would come home wearing our school’s uniform.”

“She tried it on and loved it so much, she insisted on wearing it home…”

I was used to Akira’s usual casual style, so it was surprising to hear she was into cute things like that uniform. “Well, our uniform does have a reputation for being cute, so it makes sense she’d like it.”

“Still…”

“What’s wrong?”

“On the way home, I didn’t like how all the guys were staring at her…”

Akira’s undeniably cute, so it’s no surprise she’d turn heads. In that uniform, she stood out even more. But, Miyuki-san, I wanted to blurt out, you’re part of the problem too. Her outfit today—a form-fitting dress that accentuated her stunning figure—was practically a weapon. Miyuki-san’s beauty was already striking, and that dress only amplified her allure, leaving a trail of dazed guys in her wake without her even noticing. A drop-dead gorgeous mom and an ultra-cute daughter in a school uniform strolling down the street? Of course every guy in town was staring.

“I just hope she doesn’t get hit on by weirdos. It happened a lot in middle school.”

“I’ll go to and from school with her for a while, so it’ll be fine.”

“That’s reassuring, Ryouta-kun. I heard there’s been a creep around here lately…”

“If a creep shows up, I’ll take care of it. Though, with her personality, she’d probably be fine even without me, right?”

“That’s not entirely true…” Miyuki-san murmured.

“Huh?”

“She might not seem like it, but she’s actually shy. At school, she’s like a borrowed cat—super cautious and slow to warm up to strangers. If someone she doesn’t know talks to her, she can come off as cold…”

“Really?”

Come to think of it, when we first met and I called out to her on the street, she’d given me the cold shoulder. I’d assumed she was as lively and outgoing at school as she was at home, but apparently, I was wrong.

“Her middle school teacher was worried about her too,” Miyuki-san continued. “She’s not uncooperative, but she holds back and doesn’t open up easily. So, I’m a bit worried about her transferring for the second semester…”

“Yeah, I can see why…”

As we fretted, the sound of footsteps announced Akira’s return. She’d changed out of the uniform and bounced back into the living room. “What were you two talking about?”

“Just about how the second semester’s starting soon,” I said, sidestepping the truth. It was probably best not to bring up sensitive topics like her shyness directly.

“Hmm. —Oh, Mom, teach me how to put on a bra.”

“Pfft—!?”

“Oh, this girl… Aren’t you embarrassed saying that in front of Ryouta-kun?”

“It’s just Aniki, so it’s fine,” Akira said nonchalantly.

No, it’s not fine at all. My mind reeled. Wait, Akira, don’t tell me you’ve been going without—

“Oh, sorry to crush your hopes, Aniki, but I don’t go braless. I wear sports bras. They’re comfy, no tight wires or anything.”

Oh, sports bras. That was… oddly reassuring.

“You don’t need to report that kind of stuff! And I wasn’t hoping for anything!”

“Hahaha, don’t get all shy! —Anyway, Mom, I’ll be waiting upstairs!” Her footsteps clomped up the stairs, and I let out a heavy sigh of relief.

“Sorry about that, Ryouta-kun. She’s such a handful…”

“N-No, it’s fine… If she’s not bothered, it’s okay…”

“She’s finally starting to get into wearing bras now that she’s in high school,” Miyuki-san added casually. “We stopped by a lingerie shop earlier when we went to pick up her uniform.”

“L-Lingerie shop…?”

“The one I bought her before doesn’t fit anymore. I only saw her wear that first bra once… It was so cute, such a shame…”

“H-Huh…?” I could barely process her words.

I never thought I’d hear phrases like “first bra” or “lingerie shop” from someone like Miyuki-san. My heart was doing somersaults.

“Still, I wonder what’s gotten into her, suddenly wanting to wear a bra?”

“Uh… Don’t ask me…” I muttered, praying this wasn’t somehow my fault.

＊ ＊ ＊

That night, I sat alone in my room, hunched over a desk buried under a mountain of summer homework I’d let pile up.

Summer break ends on August 24th, and today’s already the 20th. Only a few days left to tackle this mess.

Looking back, the break had slipped by in a blur. Akira and her mom moved in, we spent lazy days hanging out, and then I learned Akira was my sister… No, I shouldn’t dwell on that now. It’ll swallow my focus whole.

A soft knock broke my thoughts, and Akira strolled in without waiting for an answer.

“Aniki, you studying?”

“Yeah. What’s up?”

“Brought some snacks and juice.”

“Oh, thanks. Just leave ’em there.”

Akira set the tray on the table, then plucked a manga from my shelf. She plopped down, munching on the snacks she’d just delivered.

“Uh, Akira-san?”

“Slurp… What?”

“Why are you the one eating and drinking?”

“’Cause I brought ’em.”

“Weren’t they for me?” I stared, dumbfounded. I’d assumed she brought them as a study-time treat for me, but apparently, they were her excuse to snack.

“Kidding, kidding! They’re for you!”

“Then don’t eat them!”

“Hahaha, my bad!”

“‘My bad,’ she says…”

Pausing my work, I reached for the snacks. It’d been hours since dinner, and my stomach was starting to complain.

“By the way, Akira, you done with your summer homework?”

“I finished it ages ago.”

“Tch… Little miss perfect, huh?”

“It’s your fault for not chipping away at it, Aniki.” We locked eyes and burst into laughter. This easy back-and-forth felt just right—close, but not so close it made me overthink our new dynamic.

“Oh, so I tried on a bra today. Whaddya think?” Akira struck a playful pose, one hand on her head, the other on her hip, tossing out an “Ooh la la~”

“What do I think…?”

“Oh, you can’t tell like this—” She tugged at the collar of her t-shirt, as if to flash what was underneath.

“W-Wait a sec!”

“Hahaha, just kidding!” she laughed, dropping the act.

I couldn’t tell if she was serious, and it was seriously bad for my heart. Worse, I might’ve caught a fleeting glimpse.

“Seriously, aren’t you embarrassed about stuff like that?”

“Hmm… Kinda, but not really. ’Cause it’s you, Aniki.”

So she’s already adjusted to this? She’s fully settled into the sister role, casually showing skin and tossing out girly topics like it’s nothing. Meanwhile, I’m the one still grappling with it.

“Some of my friends say they walk around in their underwear at home. Like, it’s no big deal with family,” she added.

“That’s other people’s houses. That’s a no-go here.”

“Whaaat?”

“No ‘whaaat.’ It’s not allowed.”

She has no idea how much this throws me off.

If Akira started wandering around in her underwear, I’d have to sit her down for a serious talk.

“Alright, break’s over. I’m getting back to studying.”

“Got it. I’ll keep reading manga then.”

“Read it in your own room.”

“No way. Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t slack off, Aniki.”

“What do you take your brother for? I’m not gonna slack.”

“Sure, sure, don’t mind me!” With that, Akira flopped onto my bed, manga in hand, sprawling out like she owned the place.

I figured she’d get bored and head to her room eventually, so I let it slide. But an hour later, soft, rhythmic breathing drifted from behind me.

“Hey, Akira?”

“Zzz… zzz…”

Seriously, she’s so oblivious, falling asleep like that.

I crept over, draping a blanket over her gently, then dimmed the room’s lights. With only my desk lamp casting a faint glow, I turned back to my homework. Just as I settled in, a small voice murmured from behind.

“…Thanks, Dad…”

I pretended not to hear. For Akira to dream about her dad like that, he must be really important to her.

Before I knew it, morning had come, and I’d fallen asleep at my desk.

When I woke up, Akira was gone, and the blanket I’d put over her was now draped over my back.