By the time Kyousuke woke, the sky had already gone dark.
Outside, the streets were bustling with traffic, but inside the room, all was calm and still, with only the soft scratch of a dip pen to be heard.
“How long was I out?”
Kyousuke rubbed his eyes and let out an enormous yawn.
“About five hours, I think.”
Kirino seemed to be deliberately avoiding eye contact, her head lowered toward the work desk as her shoulders quivered ever so slightly.
“You’re pretty much done drawing by now, right?”
Kyousuke got to his feet and made his way over to the work desk, and Kirino handed him a stack of manuscript paper without missing a beat.
“Are you feeling unwell or something?”
Kyousuke took the pages, noticing that something about her seemed off.
Had she come down with some sudden illnesses?
Why was she trembling all over like that?
Kousaka Kirino spun her chair around, turning her back to Kyousuke and waving him off, her voice stuttering as she spoke.
“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.
Just look at the rough sketches first.”
“No, if something’s wrong, I’m taking you to the hospital.
Did you hurt yourself with one of the drawing tools?”
Kyousuke’s brow furrowed deeply as he forcibly swiveled her chair back around, crouching down to look at her face.
“Ah!”
Kousaka Kirino let out a startled yelp, and inevitably, their eyes met.
No good, she couldn’t hold it in any longer.
With those bags drawn under his eyes, and the ring traced around his mouth, the sight was just too ridiculous.
Stay calm!
Kousaka Kirino, stay calm!
The blonde girl struggled to steady her breathing, but her pretty face had already flushed bright red, her expression twisting uncontrollably.
Kyousuke stared at her oddly.
What was with that slightly unhinged look on her face?
Could this cheap little sister of his really have some hidden, unspeakable condition?
Just as the thought crossed his mind, he noticed traces of black ink smeared across his fingertips.
As if confirming a suspicion, he followed the line of Kirino’s gaze and wiped a hand across his forehead — his entire palm came away stained with blackish-gray ink.
“Ah, so that’s it.
You’ve been holding back laughter this whole time?”
Kousaka Kyousuke let out a relieved sigh and looked at Kirino, who merely shook her head and stubbornly insisted, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Is that so?”
If she wanted to play games, then he’d play along.
Kyousuke shot her a glare, then brought both hands to his face, hooked his fingers into the corners of his mouth, and pulled them wide, making a ridiculous face at her.
The ink smeared further across his features, and combined with his deliberately crossed eyes, the effect was utterly absurd.
Kousaka Kirino’s defenses shattered instantly.
She couldn’t hold it in anymore, letting out a snort before doubling over in laughter.
“So you like drawing on people’s faces while they’re asleep.
Are you a child or something?”
Before today, Kousaka Kirino had never once shown this kind of playful mischief, and this kind of prank felt like something only real siblings would do to each other.
With that thought in mind, Kyousuke reached out toward the girl with his ink-stained hand.
“You’re the child!
Don’t come any closer!
What do you think you’re doing?!”
Kirino hadn’t yet recovered when his palm was already closing in on the top of her head.
“Getting revenge, obviously.
Need you even ask?”
“You jerk, get away from me!”
Kirino practically rolled off her chair in her escape, scrambling onto the sofa and hurling a cushion straight at Kyousuke.
“Amateur.”
Kyousuke dodged it with ease, and the two of them were off — one fleeing, one pursuing — throughout the cramped space.
“Honestly, what kind of older brother is this petty?!
And don’t you dare touch my hair — ink stains like that don’t wash out easily!”
“Heh, so you knew full well it’s hard to wash off, and yet you still drew all over my face?”
Kyousuke put on an expression of deadpan anger and advanced on her step by step.
The girl took one look at his face and couldn’t bear it, laughing so hard her whole body trembled.
The more serious he tried to look, the funnier it got, as if someone had forcibly jammed her laugh button and left her crouched in place, cackling uncontrollably.
“Hahahahaha, I give up, I surrender!
I’m sorry!”
Seeing Kyousuke draw ever closer, Kirino finally raised the white flag.
“Hmph, I’ll let you off this time.
If you ever pull something like this again while I’m asleep, I will make you pay.”
Kyousuke glared at her and stepped into the bathroom.
When he emerged again, his face was perfectly clean.
Kousaka Kirino, now curled up on the sofa clutching a cushion, stared at him in wide-eyed amazement.
“How did you get it off?”
“Makeup remover wipes can take off oil-based marker stains.
Surely I don’t need to explain that to you, do I?”
Kyousuke rolled his eyes.
There had been some in the bathroom — likely left there by the girl herself for use in the studio.
“Hmph!”
This guy, using my stuff without even asking!
Damn it!
Kousaka Kirino grumbled inwardly but didn’t dare say much out loud.
After all, she’d been the one up to no good, and she was honestly a little afraid he might retaliate.
Kousaka Kyousuke walked over to the sofa and plopped himself down right next to Kirino, then, feeling cramped, nudged her aside.
“Stop squishing me!
Can’t you just go sit at the work desk?”
“And why don’t you go sit there instead?
That chair looks rock-hard.”
It was a two-person sofa, yet Kirino had planted herself dead center, and Kyousuke was not about to indulge her.
The two of them jostled and squabbled, neither willing to give an inch, until a crisp ringtone cut through the horseplay. This chapter was copied from g.com without permission.
….
“No, I won’t be home for dinner.
Sorry, Dad, I didn’t call ahead.”
“….”
“That guy is with me.”
“….”
“What do you mean, ‘if Kyousuke’s there, you’re not worried’?
You’re making it sound like he’s so reliable.”
“…..”
“Fine, I get it!
We’ll come home early!”
Kousaka Kirino hung up the phone in a huff.
“That was Father, wasn’t it?”
“You already know, so why ask?
This is all your fault, sleeping so long that we missed dinner.”
Kousaka Kirino clutched the remaining cushion against her chest and shot him a defiant look before rising from the sofa.
She picked up the manuscript pages from the work desk and handed them to Kyousuke again.
“Hurry up and look through them so we can go home.”
Kyousuke accepted the rough sketches she handed over, acting as if nothing had happened.
The room settled back into stillness, as if the earlier roughhousing had never taken place.
Kousaka Kirino sat back at the work desk, hugging her knees and burying her face in the cushion.
Just what had she been doing earlier?
Drawing all over someone’s face while they were asleep — no wonder he’d gotten mad.
Though, he wasn’t exactly magnanimous either, threatening to get even like that.
Kirino lifted her head just a little, peeking over the top of the cushion with her bright eyes to stealthily observe Kyousuke.
He was flipping through her sketches with a serious expression, his brow furrowing now and then.
What was with that face?
Did he have some kind of problem with her work?
Kirino grumbled to herself.
She could admit his story was good, but she had confidence in her own art skills, and even if these were just rough sketches, they were at least ten thousand times better than the scribbles Kyousuke called drawings.
Just then, Kyousuke straightened the stack of pages and let out a long breath.
“These are really well drawn.”
The sudden praise caught Kirino off guard.
With the expression he’d been wearing just moments ago, she’d been bracing herself for some kind of harsh critique, so when she felt Kyousuke’s gaze land on her, she turned to face him with a deliberately unfriendly look.
“Well, obviously.
I am a best-selling manga artist, after all.”
“Honestly, calling you a genius wouldn’t even be an exaggeration.”
Kyousuke offered the compliment without the slightest reservation.
“You…” Faced with such unvarnished praise, Kirino felt an inexplicable rush of embarrassment and hugged the cushion tighter against her chest.
“Even if you flatter me, it’s not going to make me think you’re a good person.” She kept those words locked in her heart, never letting them past her lips.
But then, Kyousuke’s tone shifted.
“The art is excellent, but I still think there’s room for revision.”