"Auntie Reina. Auntie Reina."
Reina didn't look up from her magazine. The couch had a spring that dug into her left thigh, but she'd long since decided that discomfort was preferable to acknowledging the whine in Sophia's voice.
"Mother."
"You're not a Victorian child," Reina said, turning a page. "Use your normal voice."
Sophia stood in the doorway of the kitchen, her coffee-brown hair escaping its pigtails in wild, staticky strands. She was young and already beautiful in the way that made strangers stop on the street, all golden eyes and delicate features and the sort of presence that suggested she'd been born knowing exactly how important she was.
She stamped her foot. The action sent a faint tremor through the floorboards. A picture frame rattled on the wall.
"I want the new game console," she announced.
"We have a game console."
"That thing is old. I want the new one. It has better graphics and faster loading times and—"
"Sophia."
"-and the controller has haptic feedback and the guy at the store said-"
"Sophia."
"—that it's completely sold out everywhere but I know you can get one because you're a government agent and government agents can get anything—"
Reina turned another page. "No."
The silence that followed was the particular silence of a child who had not expected to be denied and was now recalibrating her entire strategy.
"You're the worst mother in the world," Sophia declared.
"I know." She swallowed.
"The absolute worst. Everyone else's mothers buy them things."
"Do you wanna go back to your dad then?"
Sophia's golden eyes narrowed. The air around her began to shimmer, not with heat, but with the faint, almost imperceptible distortion of telekinetic energy being unconsciously gathered. The picture frame rattled again. A book slid off the coffee table.
"Sophia," Reina said, still not looking up. "What did we say about using your powers when you're angry?"
"That I'm not supposed to."
"And?"
"And that it's dangerous and irresponsible and I could hurt someone." Sophia's shoulders slumped.
"And?"
A long pause. Then, muttered: "And that you'd make me clean the bathroom with a toothbrush."
"Specifically the toilet."
"Specifically the toilet," Sophia repeated in a mocking, high-pitched voice that was absolutely nothing like Reina's. "I'm sorry."
Reina turned another page.
"Good."
From the hallway, a door creaked open. Footsteps. Soft and deliberate.
Hoshimi appeared in the doorway beside Sophia.
He was rather small for his age. Black hair that fell across his forehead in uneven strands. Violet eyes that didn't blink nearly as often as they should.
He looked at Sophia. Looked at the shimmering air around her. Looked at Reina on the couch.
He said nothing.
But his lips twitched. Just slightly. Just enough.
Sophia noticed.
"What is it?" she demanded.
"Nothing."
"You're doing that thing."
"What thing?"
"That thing where you're not saying anything, I can just tell that you're just trying to judge me for something."
Hoshimi considered this. His expression remained perfectly blank.
"I was just thinking," he said slowly, "that you might be kind of narcissistic and stupid, I don't understand why she even brought you in, but I think Miss Reina is just trying to teach you a lesson."
Sophia's mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.
The book that had fallen off the coffee table rose three feet into the air. The picture frame tilted forty-five degrees. A pencil on the kitchen counter began to spin like a compass needle seeking true north.
"I am NOT–" Sophia started. "And Auntie Reina spends thousands on stupid gacha pulls."
"HEY!!" Reina immediately turned her head.
"IT'S A ONE TIME THING!"
"MY GACHA PULLS ARE INVESTMENTS, THEY ARE LIMITED CHARACTERS!"
"Sophia," he said, his voice flat and even, "you're acting like a child."
"I AM A CHILD. That's the point. And so is Auntie Reina, she's way more immature than I am."
"HEY!! AM NOT!"
"Sophia, I think you should at least try not to be like her, she's so old that she's practically almost turning into dust, I don't think she can change at this point."
Reina froze. "H-..."
Hoshimi continued. "And you're getting elderly too, but you still have time to change."
Sophia's head snapped up from the carpet. "Elderly? I'm going to turn your bones into jelly. I'm going to pull your skeleton out through your nose. I'm going to—"
"Sophia." Reina's voice cut through the threat with the precision of a surgeon's scalpel. "Please don't threaten him before dinner, also try not to do it in front of me."
"It's not before dinner. It's before lunch."
"The point stands."
Sophia let out a sound that was somewhere between a growl and a whimper and resumed her position on the floor. "You're both against me. This is a hostile environment. I'm being oppressed."
Hoshimi stared blankly at her. "Then you should overthrow the regime."
"I'll overthrow your face."
The pencil was spinning faster now. Three books had risen from the coffee table and were orbiting Sophia's head in lazy, wavering circles. Her golden eyes were blazing, and her face had gone red—not with embarrassment, but with something closer to frustration.
His voice was still flat and calm and utterly infuriating, "Why don't you just use your psychic powers to take it? Without anyone noticing?"
"That's STEALING!"
"Hm." Hoshimi tilted his head. "That's very heroic. I guess it comes with the empty head."
Sophia's face went through several expressions in rapid succession. Rage. Confusion. More rage. Something that might have been the beginning of respect, swiftly crushed by even more rage.
The books orbiting her head dropped to the floor. The pencil stopped spinning. The shimmer in the air faded.
"I hate you," she said.
"Okay."
"You're the worst brother in the world."
"I'm not your brother."
"You're—" Sophia stopped. Blinked. Something flickered across her face that was gone before Reina could identify it. "You're Auntie Reina's kid. That makes you practically my brother. That's how it works."
Hoshimi considered this. "I don't think that's how it works."
"That's EXACTLY how it works!"
From the couch, Reina spoke without looking up. "He's right. Legally, you're not siblings. I haven't filed the—"
"AUNTIE!"
"—paperwork yet. There's a process. Background checks. Home visits. It's very bureaucratic."
Sophia made a sound that was somewhere between a scream and a groan and flung herself onto the couch beside Reina with enough force to make the springs shriek in protest. "This family is STUPID," she announced to the ceiling. "Stupid and terrible and I hate all of you."
"That's nice, dear."
"Can I go back now?" Hoshimi asked from the doorway.
Reina glanced at him over the top of her magazine. His violet eyes met hers, and for a moment, something passed between them—not quite understanding, not quite affection, but something that might have been the beginning of both.
"In a minute," she said. "First, apologize to your sister."
"She's not my—"
"Apologize."
Hoshimi's jaw tightened. Then, very quietly: "Sorry, Sophia."
"Whatever," Sophia muttered at the ceiling.
"Now come here," Reina said, and the command in her voice was gentle but absolute. Hoshimi crossed the room with those same soft, careful footsteps and stopped beside the couch, his hands still in his pockets, his shoulders slightly hunched.
Reina reached up and ruffled his hair.
He flinched. Just slightly. Still not used to being touched without it hurting.
"You're doing it on purpose," she said quietly, so Sophia wouldn't hear. "Pushing her buttons."
"She's easy to push."
"She's a kid."
"So am I. And I'm younger than her."
"That's not really the point."
Hoshimi looked at the floor. "She said I wasn't really part of the family. Yesterday. When you were at work. She said I was just a stray you picked up and that you'd get rid of me eventually since I was useless compared to her." His voice was flat. Matter-of-fact.
Reina's hand stilled in his hair.
On the other end of the couch, Sophia had gone very, very quiet.
"I didn't mean it," she said. Her voice was smaller than it had been a moment ago. "I was angry. Because you used the last of the cereal and didn't tell me."
Hoshimi didn't look at her.
"I shouldn't have said it," Sophia continued. She sat up, her golden eyes fixed on the back of Hoshimi's head. "It was mean. And not true. She doesn't get rid of people. She's too lazy."
"Hey," Reina said mildly.
"It's true. You don't even get rid of old newspapers." Sophia pointed at the stack on the coffee table. "You have newspapers from three years ago."
"I was collecting."
"Hoarding."
Reina opened her mouth to retort, then closed it. "Fine."
Hoshimi's shoulders had relaxed slightly. He still wasn't looking at Sophia, but he wasn't looking at the floor anymore either, his gaze had drifted to the wall, to the window, to the gray afternoon light that filtered through the dusty blinds.
"If you want," Sophia said, her voice still smaller than usual, "we can share the old console. Until Mom stops being terrible and buys the new one."
"I'm not terrible."
"You're a little terrible."
"I'm fiscally responsible."
"I don't know what that means."
"Okay," he said quietly. "We can share."
Sophia nodded firmly, as if this had been her idea all along. "Good. But I get the good controller."
"The good controller has stick drift."
"How do you even know what that means?"
"I read."
"You read everything, you're a creepy kid."
"You're barely older than me."
"And you called me elderly."
"Because you are."
Reina watched them from the couch, her magazine forgotten in her lap. Her gold eyes moved from Sophia's indignant face to Hoshimi's carefully blank expression to the space between them, smaller now than it had been a moment ago, though neither of them seemed to have noticed.
Her hand found her coffee mug on the side table. Cold. She drank it anyway.
"Mom," Sophia said, "Hoshimi's being creepy again."
"I'm not being creepy. She's bullying me again."
"You're breathing creepily."
"That doesn't make sense."
"Your stupid FACE doesn't make sense."
Reina took another sip of her cold coffee and smiled. It was a small smile. Barely there. But it reached her eyes in a way.
"Mom," Sophia said, "Hoshimi won't stop staring at the wall. Make him stop."
"I'm thinking."
"You're thinking at me."
"That doesn't make sense."
"NOTHING MAKES SENSE AND I HATE EVERYTHING."
Reina set down her coffee and stood. "Alright. No more fighting. Sophia, stop yelling. Hoshimi, stop... being. We're getting ice cream."
Sophia's indignation vanished instantly. "Ice cream?"
"The place on Fifth Street. The one with the—"
"The one with the sprinkles bar?!" Sophia was already off the couch, already halfway to the door, her previous rage completely forgotten. "The one with the TWENTY-SEVEN FLAVORS?!"
"Yea, that's the one."
"I'M GETTING ALL OF THEM!"
"You're getting one scoop."
"THREE SCOOPS!"
"One."
"TWO! Two is a compromise! Compromise is important in families!"
Reina looked at Hoshimi. He was still standing beside the couch, his hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable. But something in his posture had shifted, a slight relaxation in his shoulders, a tilt of his head that suggested curiosity rather than wariness.
"You've never been to the sprinkles bar," she said.
"No."
"They have a flavor called 'Cosmic Brownie.' It's Sophia's favorite."
"I thought her favorite was strawberry."
"It was. Then she discovered Cosmic Brownie. Now strawberry is dead to her."
"Strawberry is DEAD!" Sophia called from the hallway. "DEAD AND BURIED!"
Hoshimi's lips twitched again. More than before. The closest thing to a smile Reina had seen on his face since she'd brought him home.
"Okay," he said. "I'll try the Cosmic Brownie."
"Good choice.. Wait nevermind, we can have the one with 27 flavors."
"YEAAAAAAAH!!"
"But we're sharing, you can't have it all to yourself."
Reina turned to Hoshimi and reached out, ruffling his hair again. "Now go get your shoes before Sophia explodes."
"I HEARD THAT!"
"IT WASN'T AN INSULT!"
Hoshimi walked toward the hallway, his footsteps still soft but somehow less hesitant than before.
Sophia was already at the door, bouncing up and down like a spring.
As Reina grabbed her keys from the hook by the door, Hoshimi paused beside Sophia.
"Hey," he said quietly.
Sophia stopped bouncing. "What?"
"The thing you said. About me being a stray."
Sophia's face fell. "I told you, I didn't-"
"I know." Hoshimi's violet eyes met her golden ones. "I know what I am."
"It's not okay. It was mean. I was mean."
"You were."
"Isn't this the part where you say I'm not mean?"
"You are mean."
"HEY!!"
Reina watched from the doorway, her keys dangling from her fingers, her coffee still cold and forgotten on the side table.
She didn't say anything. Didn't need to. Just watched her two children standing in the hallway, the space between them smaller than it had ever been, and let herself feel something that might have been pride or might have been relief.
"Are we getting ice cream or are we just going to stand here having EMOTIONS?!" Sophia demanded from the doorway.
"We're going," Reina said.
"FINALLY!"
They went.
Black Scene.
Hoshimi's eyes opened.
The ceiling above him was unfamiliar. Cracked in patterns that his brain tried to map against his own dormitory, against anywhere he'd ever called home. None of them matched.
His chest was heaving.
The sheets were soaked through, he could feel them clinging to his skin, cold and wet and wrong, twisted around his legs like restraints. His hair was plastered to his forehead. His hands were shaking.
There was salt in his mouth, on his lips, tracing warm tracks down his cheeks that hadn't stopped even though he was awake now.
"Why couldn't- why couldn't I just sleep forever?"
He tried to sit up.
His body refused. His muscles had turned to water, to nothing, to the same hollow emptiness that had been eating him from the inside since the street, since the blood, since the last breath she'd ever taken.
He fell back against the mattress. The springs groaned beneath him like something dying.
"I can't."
His hand found the blanket, the thin, cheap blanket that came with the hotel room and pulled it around his shoulders. The fabric was rough against his skin, too thin to provide any real warmth, but he clutched it anyway, wrapped it around himself like a cocoon.
"My hands feel so cold."