And so, after leaving Fumihiro to "take care" of some family matters, Kazuha walked alone through the evening darkness for nearly half an hour.
Her pace was rapid, almost nervous, her heels clicking sharply against the pavement. There was no trace of a smile on her face. Quite the opposite.
"Unbelievable. That bastard told me he had quit," she muttered to herself, her breath hitching with frustration.
Kazuha turned into the narrow, dimly lit alley where her house stood. She fished her keys from her pocket and unlocked the door.
It was late, so she moved with practiced slowness, trying not to disturb anyone. But she wasn't here to sleep. She had business to finish.
With perfectly silent, almost cat-like movements, Kazuha didn't head for her own room, nor her father's. Instead, she marched straight toward her brother's door.
She didn't knock. She shoved it open.
Her eyes widened in a mix of disgust and resignation.
There was her brother, Chiko, sprawled half-naked across his bed, fast asleep. His body was a map of fresh bruises, and three empty beer bottles stood like sentinels beside the bedframe.
He looked like he had just crawled back from a brawl. But Kazuha couldn't care less about his pain. Not with the hatred currently burning in her chest.
"Chiko," she said. Her voice was steady, aggressive, arms crossed tight over her chest.
"Mmmmh—" He groaned in his sleep, shifting onto his side away from the noise.
"Chiko. Get up. I know you're awake," she hissed, stepping closer.
"Lemme sleep..." he mumbled, pulling the sheet up.
Kazuha gritted her teeth. She shut her eyes for a second, gathering her patience, then snapped. She lunged forward, grabbing a handful of his hair and yanking his head up violently.
"HEY! What the hell?!" Chiko yelped, scrabbling at her hand to loosen her grip, but it was useless. Kazuha wasn't letting go.
"I have a few questions for you, you little idiot," Kazuha said, twisting her grip tighter. "So get up and come to the living room."
She released him with a shove. Kazuha turned on her heel and marched out, not even deigning him with a backward glance.
Chiko sighed, rubbing his sore scalp, looking blatantly bored and annoyed. "What does she want at this hour?" he wondered aloud, before lazily pulling on a t-shirt.
A few minutes later, the delinquent shuffled into the living room. He found his sister already seated at the small dining table, an aura of pure menace radiating from her.
Chiko blinked, genuinely confused. He didn't know what he had done this time.
"Sit," Kazuha commanded. Her fingers drummed a frantic rhythm on the wooden surface.
"Ooookayy," he drawled, slumping into the chair opposite her. "What is it?"
"Explain to me what you did to Ema," Kazuha said. No warm-up, no preamble.
Chiko's expression shifted from boredom to genuine puzzlement. "To Ema?"
"Yes, to Ema. I need to know exactly what happened between you two." She drilled her gaze into his.
"I think you already know everything. I thought I told you," Chiko replied, scratching the stubble on his chin.
That answer wasn't good enough.
"When was the last time you saw her, Chiko?"
He thought for a second, tilting his head. "Hmm... Let's see. Exactly since that idiot boyfriend of hers jumped me."
Kazuha's fists clenched under the table at the insult to Fumihiro.
"Then explain to me why he said the cheating was real. You assured me nothing happened between you two. No sex, not even a kiss. And yet, we saw Ema walking with another guy just before. Do you know anything about that?" Kazuha's voice was trembling, teetering on the edge of rage.
"Huh? What? I swear I don't know anyth—"
Chiko didn't get to finish. Kazuha shot up from her chair, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt in a flash.
"Kazuha?! What's gotten into you?!" Chiko shouted, a mix of fear and anger in his eyes.
"What's gotten into me? You have the nerve to ask?" She shook him. "I TOLD YOU TO STAY OUT OF MY PERSONAL BUSINESS! I TOLD YOU TO LEAVE THEM ALONE! YOU HURT A DEAR FRIEND OF MINE! DO YOU THINK I'M STUPID? DO YOU THINK I DON'T SEE YOUR HAND IN THIS?"
She was screaming now, oblivious to the hour, oblivious to the neighbors.
Chiko stared at her, baffled. "Kazuha, I told you I don't know! Since you told me to back off, I listened! And besides—!"
"BESIDES WHAT?! DO YOU REALIZE HOW MUCH IT HURTS ME TO SEE HIM SAD?!" A single tear escaped her eye, rolling down her flushed cheek. Her grip on his collar loosened, her strength fading into grief. She let him go.
Chiko smoothed his shirt, looking away awkwardly. "...And besides, I did it for you. Ever since we were kids, you've never shut up about him. About how much you loved him. You should be thanking me, actually."
Kazuha froze. A sharp pang twisted in her gut. She could feel the sincerity in his clumsy words. He wasn't evil; he was just misguided. He thought breaking them up was a gift to her.
"No," she whispered, her voice cold again. "You've always been useless. Everything you do is for some selfish reason. It's your fault we're in this mess, ruined by debts, with a sick father."
It was a low blow. A cruel deflection. Chiko flinched. Hearing those words from his own flesh and blood cut deeper than any punch.
"...Goodnight, Kazuha," he muttered, turning his back on her to hide his expression. He shuffled back toward his room, the fight drained out of him.
Kazuha stayed there, sitting in the silence of the dim living room, staring at the floor patterns.
She couldn't accept that it had happened like this. She was heartbroken for Fumihiro, truly. But what made her feel like a monster was the tiny, shameful spark deep inside her chest. A part of her was happy. As if Fate had handed her a second chance on a silver platter, bought with Fumihiro's pain.
"...I will never take advantage of him," she whispered to the empty room, a promise to absolve her guilt.
She stood up and walked to her bedroom. She opened the door and stopped. The room was perfectly tidy. The bed was made, the clothes folded.
"Eh? Who cleaned my room?" she wondered. Maybe Chiko, in his own twisted way of apologizing? Or her father, during a rare moment of clarity?
She pushed the thought aside and sat on the edge of her bed. The house was quiet now and so, she pulled out her phone and her thumb immediately hovered over Fumihiro's contact.
She knew he was not in a good mood and tahat he was probably asleep or crying but she needed to hear him. She needed to know he was okay.
So, she typed, deleted, and typed again.
"Hey... I know it's late and maybe it's the wrong time. But can we meet tomorrow? We need to talk."
Sent.
That was the only thing that came out from her mind.
After that, Kazuha waited for a reply that never came and she fell asleep without even noticing it.