Chương 91: 35.Kushima Sisters 36-4

By the time the Family Visitation Day chaos finally drained away and the dorms settled back into their usual half-dead but familiar state, it was close to evening roll call. I came back to the room carrying freshly washed quick-dry liners and a towel. The corridor floor was still faintly damp, wind pushing through the window gaps and carrying the warm, heavy smell from the laundry room. The lights were the same failing yellow, making everyone look collectively malnourished.

Turning the corner at the end of the hallway, I found Maki Kushima crouched outside our door. Beside her sat an open organizer box—portioned water purification tablets, insect repellent, a few recompressed ration packs. Our shared supply chart was spread in front of her, pen tucked behind her ear, sleeves rolled to her elbows, head bent as she re-sorted items into the grid sequence. I stopped dead. Shit. Not because she was working.

Because the last Kushima-related image in my head was Aki on the rooftop, smiling pleasantly while saying please don't be too hard on Cadet Hoffmann. So the face in front of me—similar enough to trigger recognition—arrived with an automatic horror filter applied. Maki looked up, saw me, and paused her work.

"Why are you just standing there?"

"…Making sure you're you." She was quiet for a second.

"That requires elaboration."

"No it doesn't. You're better off not knowing." She took the pen from behind her ear, gaze settling on my face for a moment, brow creasing slightly.

"You look terrible." I fired back immediately.

"Courtesy of your family."

"Whose?" My mouth moved before my brain caught up.

"Your sister's." The pen stopped in her hand. For a moment the hallway held nothing but the distant sound of a locker shutting and the faint whistle of wind through the window gaps. Maki stood up. The movement wasn't fast, but something in it made me straighten unconsciously.

"You met Aki," she said. Not a question. I stared at her.

"You knew she was coming today?"

"I knew she'd be on campus. I didn't know she'd find you." She held my gaze, and for once her expression had something in it that wasn't quite her usual flatness.

"What did she say to you?" I'd been ready to fire something sharp back, but what came out first was completely unfiltered.

"Is everyone in your family that terrifying?" Maki paused for half a beat. Then she glanced away—just briefly. Not guilt. Not evasion. More like she was actually giving the question serious consideration.

"…More or less, yes." I was quiet for two seconds. Shit. She just admitted it. That honest answer scattered every comeback I'd been loading. Maki looked back at me, voice dropping a notch.

"Did she frighten you?"

"No," I said immediately. She looked at the towel I'd been unconsciously crumpling in my hand, then back at my face. Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

"Hoshino."

"What."

"You look like you've been grabbed by a large bird of prey."

"…Where do you even get these comparisons."

"It's accurate." I glanced down at my arm and only then noticed that where Aki had gripped me—even through the sleeve—still felt wrong, like the pressure hadn't stayed on the skin but had settled somewhere in the nerves underneath. Maki's gaze followed mine to my upper arm. She hesitated, then reached toward me. I stepped back half a pace on pure instinct. The moment it happened, I froze. Maki's hand stopped midair, suspended for a second.

Brief enough that I wanted to swallow that half-step back and pretend it hadn't happened. Fuck. It wasn't her I was flinching from. It was the psychological residue her sister had left in my nervous system. Saying that out loud would sound even more pathetic.

"…I only wanted to check if there were marks." She withdrew her hand, tone still even, but I could hear something underneath—not offense, more like I'd disrupted whatever rhythm she'd been moving in. My throat tightened. I looked away deliberately.

"It's fine. Your sister grips people the same way she runs roll call. Very systematic." At that, Maki actually went quiet. Then, very softly: "I'm sorry." My head snapped up.

"What are you apologizing for?"

"If Aki did something unnecessary to you, that's on me."

"Hold on—what kind of collective liability system is this?" I frowned.

"Does your family run on shared responsibility?"

"To a degree, yes."

"…Don't say things like that so calmly." She looked at me, and that usual measuring-stick steadiness was still in her eyes, but the edges seemed fractionally softer.

"Let me rephrase." She paused.

"I don't want you raising your guard against me because of her." Something gave a small, quiet jolt in my chest. Not because it sounded romantic. Because it was too direct. Direct in a way that didn't match Maki's usual register—more like she genuinely needed to get something said clearly. I deflected on reflex.

"That's asking a lot. You know you two look alike, right?"

"I know."

"And your sister just demonstrated she knows about the Linde situation."

"… That's Aki's business, not mine." I looked at her. She stood under that sickly yellow hallway light, pen in hand, sleeves still rolled up, our shared supplies and charts spread around her. She looked exactly the same as always—clean, precise, the kind of person you don't underestimate. But placed next to the memory of Aki on the rooftop, they were completely different entities. Aki felt like someone who could dismantle you with a look.

Maki felt like someone who would lay out whatever you handed her, check it item by item, and tell you exactly what was going to fail first. Both exhausting. Different kinds of exhausting. I clicked my tongue, slung the towel over my shoulder, walked over, and looked down at the half-sorted supply box.

"What are you doing now?"

"Reordering the night access sequence. If the pre-storm heat front hits early, insect repellent and water purification need to move up."

"You've been doing this since Family Visitation ended?"

"Yes." I turned to look at her.

"Where's your family?" She paused.

"I saw them."

"That's it?"

"That's it." … Right. An answer so dry it could be used as tinder. But for some reason, thinking about Aki on the rooftop—smiling while she made my spine crawl—and then looking at Maki saying I saw them like she was reading off an inventory report, I felt something I couldn't quite name. Not sympathy. I wasn't that generous. More like— So she didn't spring from nowhere either. Her family just happens to be made of something harder than stone.

Maki tucked the pen back behind her ear and crouched to press the last two water purification packets into the side of the box. Maybe it was the angle, or maybe my nerves were still misfiring from her sister, but I suddenly noticed a small strand of hair that hadn't made it into her ponytail, resting loose against the side of her neck. Short, fine, and for some reason irritating. I stared at it for half a second before catching myself. What the hell am I looking at. I moved my gaze away immediately.

Maki didn't seem to notice. She just snapped the lid shut and stood.

"Hoshino."

"What now."

"If Aki comes looking for you again, you can call me first." I made a dismissive sound.

"So you two can take turns scaring me?"

"No." She looked at me, voice still level but lower than usual.

"At least I can stand in front of you." The hallway went quiet for a second. Not the whole building—just something in my ears that chose that moment to go still. I frowned.

"Saying things like that makes it easy for people to misunderstand."

"Misunderstand what?"

"…Never mind. Shut up." She looked at me—and actually did. What made it worse was the very faint curve at the corner of her mouth. Clearly suppressed. I was immediately annoyed.

"What are you smiling about?"

"I'm not."

"You are."

"Even if I were, it wouldn't be at you."

"That sounds even more like it's at me." Maki didn't deny it this time. She simply reached out and handed me the organized supply box. I took it without thinking, and my fingertips brushed hers—just for a moment, too brief to dodge. Her hand was cool, the metal edge of the box cold too, and the combination sent a faint, involuntary tingle through my fingers. Shit. I pulled the box against my chest and acted like nothing had happened. Maki seemed equally unbothered, saying simply:"Keep this by your bed.

Your night reaction time is faster than Jess's."

"Is that a compliment or a risk assessment?"

"Both."

"You're really bad at talking to people."

"I know." She said it too quickly. I couldn't find anywhere to go with that. In the end I just held the box, turned, and went to open the door. Before pushing it open, I couldn't help looking back.

"Kushima."

"Yes."

"Your sister is terrifying." She paused for half a beat, then answered with perfect calm:"I know." I stared at her for two seconds and finally managed:"…Next time, warn me first." Maki looked at me and nodded.

"Alright." I didn't know if it was the yellow lighting or if today had genuinely rattled something loose in my head, but in that moment, her alright sounded—somehow—too compliant. Strange. And not in a good way. I pushed the door open and stepped inside, trying to shut that odd feeling out with it. It didn't work. Because when I set the supply box down by my bed, my brain replayed that line again, completely without permission— At least I can stand in front of you. … Shit.

Did everyone in this family specialize in saying exactly the things that were hardest to know what to do with? **