When Hoshino Gen was sleeping so soundly it felt like the world had turned upside down, a scream followed by a burst of sobbing jolted him awake.
Reacting instinctually, Hoshino Gen jumped out of bed and rushed out the door, only to be greeted by the sight of Hoshino Rin kneeling on the sofa, crying her eyes out while wiping away tears.
It took him just a mont to grasp the situation. As the drowsiness lifted, Hoshino Gen quickly understood what was happening.
Well, it was understandable. A sixteen-year-old girl experiencing a nightmare where she was repeatedly killed countless tis, waking up in a ntal breakdown and crying hysterically, wasn't exactly unexpected.
After confirming that nothing serious had happened, Hoshino Gen sighed and was about to return to his room, pop in so earplugs, and continue sleeping. But just as he was about to leave, the sound of the door opening must have been a bit too loud, drawing the attention of the crying Hoshino Rin.
The girl lifted her tear-streaked, delicate face, still glistening with tears, and looked at Hoshino Gen. Her voice was pitiful, nasal, and soft as she called out, "Onii-chan..."
Her small hands continued to wipe away tears that fell like broken pearls, while her frail shoulders trembled uncontrollably.
Hoshino Gen froze mid-turn.
"Onii-chan"—big brother.
The last ti he had been called that was thirteen years ago, when their parents divorced. As their mother took her and boarded a plane, three-year-old Rin had clung desperately to their mother's shoulder, crying out for him in the sa heart-wrenching way.
At that ti, he'd rely watched silently as the little girl, who had stayed by his side for three years without leaving him, disappeared from his sight amidst her cries.
After so many years apart, the once-chubby little girl had grown into a graceful, stunning beauty who was impossible to look away from.
Yet, never in this year of living together again had she called him "Onii-chan" like this. Even addressing him as "Nii-san" had been so rare it could be counted on one hand.
For so reason, his sleepiness vanished completely.
Hoshino Gen silently walked over and sat down beside Hoshino Rin. His voice was calm as he asked, "Did you have a nightmare?"
Ignoring a crying younger sister and going back to sleep wasn’t sothing a proper brother should do, right? So sitting down to "inquire" about the reason and offer so comfort seed like the natural thing to do.
But to Hoshino Gen's surprise, the teary-eyed girl shook her head at his question, her sobs making it impossible for her to speak. No matter how much she wiped, her tears seed endless. And perhaps because she had cried so hard, she even started hiccupping mid-cry. It was both pitiful and adorable, though Hoshino Gen couldn’t help finding it a bit amusing.
Under his watchful gaze, Hoshino Rin cried for a solid ten minutes before barely calming down, though occasional sniffles still escaped.
Suppressing a laugh, Hoshino Gen pulled a tissue from the coffee table and handed it to her. "Here, wipe your nose. It’s running."
"!" Startled, Hoshino Rin quickly grabbed the tissue to clean herself up. She was an idol, after all. Crying and hiccupping was one thing, but being caught with a runny nose? Absolutely not!
After hurriedly wiping her nose, she lifted her small, flushed face to look at Hoshino Gen. Her red-rimd eyes and cheeks gave her an endearingly pitiful appearance that tugged at the heartstrings.
"Feeling better?" Hoshino Gen asked with a smile.
Hoshino Rin nodded, embarrassed. "Sorry for waking you..."
"It’s fine. It’s just a nightmare, not your fault."
With that, Hoshino Gen pushed himself off the sofa, as though intending to return to his room.
"O... Onii-chan..."
Hoshino Rin softly called out to him.
"...?"
"That... wasn’t a dream, was it?" Hoshino Rin murmured, her head lowered.
"Why do you say that?" Hoshino Gen turned back, his voice still gentle.
"I rember everything. I went into your room and saw a strange sword. I don’t know why, but I pulled it out and touched the blade with my hand. I cut my finger and then fainted."
"In that strange place, I kept being killed by a shadow, over and over, resurrecting and then dying again... until you showed up and saved . I rember all of it."
As she spoke, her voice quivered slightly, and though her lowered head hid her face, it wasn’t hard to imagine her expression—haunted by fear. Her hands instinctively clutched her shoulders tightly, as though trying to comfort herself.
"Oh, so you had that kind of dream. It does sound bizarre. But no matter how real a dream feels, it’s still just a dream. Don’t confuse it with reality. Did the concert tire you out today? Get so rest."
With that, Hoshino Gen began walking back to his room, but once again, he didn’t make it far.
Because a cold little hand grabbed his left hand.
"Then... why is your right hand injured?"
"Just a slip of the sword," Hoshino Gen muttered, gently pulling his hand free.
He retreated to his room, closing and locking the door behind him with a quiet click.
In the now-silent living room, Hoshino Rin lifted her head slightly. Though her eyes were still rimd red, those striking heterochromatic irises glimred with an intensity that was hard to ignore, staring fixedly at the door her brother had just closed.
Perhaps it was the lingering haze of the dream or the overpowering surge of curiosity outstripping her fear, but Hoshino Rin sniffled, feeling a thrill of excitent unlike anything she’d ever known.
She had misunderstood all this ti—her seemingly ordinary, reserved, and unremarkable brother wasn’t boring at all. He was a mysterious, extraordinary treasure trove!
Recalling the final monts of her "dream," a mischievous, impish grin spread across her face.
"You were a little too cool, Oniichan~"
Knock, knock, knock...
About half an hour after Hoshino Gen returned to his room, there was a knock on the door. Given that the only other person in the house besides him was his younger sister, Hoshino Rin, it was clear who the visitor was.
Hoshino Gen had long struggled with severe insomnia. Unless he was absolutely exhausted, he usually found it hard to fall asleep. So, even though he had been in his room for half an hour, he was still just lying in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling.
Hearing the knock, he clicked his tongue, feeling a bit annoyed with his sister.
He got up reluctantly and opened the door. Outside stood Hoshino Rin, now dressed in a simple blue-and-white sleep dress. She clutched a pillow to her chest, her head lowered in an almost pitiful manner.
"Sorry, brother... I’m still scared to sleep alone."
Hoshino Gen sighed and forced a polite smile back onto his face. "Nightmares are like the fear from watching horror movies. The best way to cope is to distract yourself. Play a ga, watch a cody—relax until you’re so tired you fall asleep. Once you’re well-rested, the fear will naturally fade."
"But... I’m already really tired."
"Then just go to sleep."
"Alone... I’m scared."
His smile faltered. He hesitated before finally asking, "So?"
"I want to sleep on the floor in your room. Is that okay?" Hoshino Rin lifted her head, her heterochromatic eyes glistening like dew-covered leaves, like a helpless fawn pleading for refuge.
If she used this expression on her fans, no doubt they’d comply with any request she made.
"No." Hoshino Gen was not soone who struggled with saying no. He hated having people enter his room, and he absolutely couldn't stand anyone staying overnight in it.
Hoshino Rin blinked, stunned. "Eh?"
She hadn’t expected such a decisive refusal.
Still, Hoshino Gen wasn’t unsympathetic. After all, Hoshino Rin was just a sixteen-year-old girl who’d experienced sothing terrifying enough to leave her afraid to sleep alone. It wasn’t hard to imagine such fear leading to lasting trauma.
He rembered his own first encounter with the supernatural; he, too, had spent countless sleepless nights paralyzed with fear.
The suffocating dread wasn’t sothing he’d wish on anyone.
So, after turning her down, he quickly added, "Sleeping on the floor is bad for you. Go to the living room and use the couch. I’ll stay nearby until you fall asleep."
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