"Zenjiro-kun, do you have a moment?"
The sweet voice cut cleanly through the loud, chaotic noise of the busy classroom. Zenjiro stopped entirely. He turned his head and looked at her. He was genuinely surprised.
Shinohara Asuka stood directly beside his wooden desk. She clutched her expensive canvas bag tightly with both of her hands.
"Do you need something, Shinohara-san?" Zenjiro asked. His voice sounded thin and strained.
Asuka's bright eyes widened slightly. The formal use of her last name seemed to strike her hard. She blinked rapidly.
"I was wondering if we can eat lunch together," Asuka said quickly. "Just like before. Lately, you were avoiding me. We used to be so close, you know. It feels weird that everything changed so fast."
Zenjiro stared at her perfect, polite smile.
"I'm sorry," Zenjiro said flatly. "I prefer to be alone eating lunch."
A sudden, violent twitch pulled at the corner of Asuka's left eye. The blunt rejection threw her completely off guard. Nobody ever declined her invitations.
Before her brain could recover and process the unexpected refusal, Zenjiro grabbed his dark blue bento box.
"Excuse me," he muttered.
He turned his back and walked away fast. He left her standing entirely frozen in the middle of the narrow aisle.
He escaped the crowded classroom and navigated the noisy corridors. He needed a quiet place to eat. He walked up the concrete stairwell at the very end of the building. He pushed the heavy metal door open and stepped out onto the roof.
He had never been up here before. The wide, flat expanse of gray concrete stretched out in every direction. Looking around, he spotted a good place to sit.
A thick concrete wall extended outward from a large mechanical unit, casting a long, dark shadow over the ground. He walked toward the cool shade.
He dug into his pocket and pulled out a blank piece of ruled notebook paper. He placed it carefully down on the dusty concrete and sat cross-legged on top of it.
He rested his lunch box on his lap. A strong gust of wind blew across the open roof. It was hot, but the moving air felt incredibly great against his sweating skin.
"You like the wind too, didn't you?"
A girl's voice spoke out from the shadows.
Zenjiro jumped. His shoulders jerked up to his ears. The unexpected sound came directly from his right side. He leaned his upper body forward and peeked carefully around the edge of the concrete wall.
A girl sat flat on the ground. She was about one meter away from him, separated only by the thick corner of the wall. She sat on a light blue picnic cloth. Her dark hair blew wildly in the hot breeze.
She is really cute.
The thought registered instantly in his chaotic mind. The girl turned her head. She looked directly at his face peering around the corner.
Zenjiro startled and scrambled backward quickly.
"I'm sorry," Zenjiro stammered. "I did not know someone is here. I was just looking for a place to eat lunch. I'll get out of here now."
He grabbed his blue bento box and started to stand up.
"No," the girl said softly. "It's okay. Just stay there."
Zenjiro gave a slow, rigid nod. He lowered his body back down onto the concrete. The hot wind picked up again. His piece of notebook paper fluttered wildly and almost flew away across the roof. He quickly slammed his hand down to pin the paper to the ground.
He popped the plastic latches of his lunch box. He ate his hot rice in total silence. He kept his eyes glued to his food.
"I prefer if someone is here when I eat lunch," the girl's voice drifted quietly around the corner. "I don't mind if you come back tomorrow."
Zenjiro just ate without saying a single word in reply. He just chewed the last bite of his food and stared the air.
---
Tuesday morning arrived with a cruel breeze. Walking beside Liora on the concrete sidewalk, Zenjiro kept his eyes locked straight ahead. His peripheral vision betrayed him.
Every step his younger sister took caused the hem of her dark blue pleated skirt to bounce. It was a rhythmic, hypnotic sway. He clenched his fists inside his pockets and tried to focus on the traffic lights. A sudden, violent gust of wind swept through the street.
The fabric flared. Liora's skirt flew straight up, caught perfectly parallel to the ground like a parachute snapping open. She gasped and slammed both hands down against her thighs to trap the rogue fabric. Frantically, she whipped her head around to check for onlookers.
Only a group of elderly women stood at the bus stop down the block. If a guy had been standing twenty feet away, he would have caught the greatest view of his life.
Zenjiro stared at the pavement. His angle was entirely useless. Because he walked right next to her shoulder, he could only look down at the top of the flattened pleats.
A heavy knot formed in his stomach. He was right there. He gritted his teeth and let out a long, shaky breath. The universe was openly mocking him.
---
By Wednesday, the frustration morphed into a low-grade fever. Inside the convenience store aisle, Liora fumbled with her coin purse. A silver coin slipped from her fingers and clattered onto the floor. She bent over to pick it up.
The skirt rode up her thighs. Zenjiro froze in the snack aisle. His eyes darted to the hemline, calculating the trajectory. It lifted just an inch too short. If he simply dropped his head down a fraction of an inch, he could probably catch a glimpse.
He stood perfectly rigid instead. Panic and desire warred in his chest. By the time his brain sent the signal to move, Liora had already snatched the coin and stood back up.
He sighed. A single head tilt was all it would have taken. He dragged a hand down his face and grabbed a random bag of chips off the shelf, completely ignoring the flavor. The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of useless regret. He kept replaying the moment in his head.
Daytime was a battlefield of missed opportunities. Nighttime was psychological torture.
---
Thursday night brought the worst of it. Staring up at the dark ceiling of their shared bedroom, Zenjiro listened to the dead silence. A soft rustle of blankets echoed from the opposite side.
He swallowed hard, the sound deafening in the quiet room.
Bare feet padded softly against the wooden floorboards, crossing the narrow gap between their beds. He counted the steps.
One.
Two.
He held his breath. Liora was standing right next to his mattress. Usually, she just slipped under his covers, claiming she had a bad dream or the room was too cold. That was the routine.
She would curl up against his side. It was agonizing, but he craved it. He wanted her to drop her blanket and climb in.
Please. He squeezed his eyes shut. Just pull the sheets back. Come to my bed like you always do.
The floorboard squeaked right beside his pillow. He waited for the sudden shift in mattress weight.
Nothing happened.
Instead, the soft padding of her bare feet retreated back across the room. Her own mattress groaned as she climbed back into it.
---
Friday night. Flat on his back, Zenjiro stared at the shadowy ceiling.
I'm pathetic. When Liora was younger, I used to see her panties but I never paid attention. Now, I'm going completely crazy just because of a piece of undergarment. What am I even doing?
Suddenly, Liora sat down on his bed wearing her pleated school uniform. She leaned forward and hugged him tightly.
"Onii-chan."
Zenjiro startled, his shoulders tensing. "What is it?"
He felt the warmth of her body through his shirt. Is she going to sleep beside me now?
Liora shook her head. "It's nothing. I just want to give you a hug before I sleep."
Thump. Thump. Thump.
His heart beat raced.
Liora stood up. "Good night, Onii-chan."
She walked straight to her bed and went to sleep. Zenjiro stared blankly at the ceiling. The room fell into total dead silence once again.
---
Saturday morning offered zero relief. Sitting at the small kitchen table, he stabbed his scrambled eggs with a fork. Liora hummed a pop song by the sink, washing the frying pan.
She wore an oversized t-shirt and those exact same dark blue pleats. He chewed his food but eyes kept stealing glances toward the hem. Every time she shifted her weight, the fabric teased a sliver of pale thigh.
He forced his gaze down to his plate. It was pathetic. He was practically vibrating with tension, completely derailed by a single piece of clothing and a few footsteps in the dark.
Liora had no idea what she was doing to him. She just went about her day, totally oblivious to the absolute wreckage inside his head. The entire week felt like a bad joke played at his expense.
With a sharp clatter, Liora dropped the sponge into the sink. She spun around and leaned her hips back against the counter.
"Onii-chan," she said. "Why are you stealing glances at me?"