The hologram faded, leaving our cramped kitchen feeling oddly empty. The silver device clinked against the table as it powered down, and for a heartbeat, the only sound was Kimiko's ragged breathing.
Then she exploded.
"AAAAHHHHHHH!"
Kimiko spun in a circle, her hands pressed to her face, tears streaming between her fingers.
"Number one! NUMBER ONE!" She bounced on her toes, her black and white hair whipping around her shoulders. "Yu-yu, you scored number one! The highest score! All Might said your name! ALL MIGHT!"
In my past life, I'd seen people win millions at poker tables and maintain better composure. But this wasn't about money or pride—this was years of sacrifice and worry exploding outward like a charged coin hitting its target.
"Okay, okay, breathe before you pass out." I grabbed her shoulders, steadying her swaying form. "I need you conscious for the celebration."
She gulped air, her mahogany eyes bright as polished amber. "Celebration. Yes. We need—" She spun toward the kitchen, then back to me, then toward the kitchen again. "Fried rice! The special kind! The way Mom used to make it for birthdays and—and when Dad got promoted and—"
"Kimi-nee." My voice cut through her babbling. "Focus. Food. Kitchen. One step at a time."
She nodded rapidly, wiping her cheeks. "Right. Yes. The special fried rice. The one with the scrambled eggs that look like little clouds and the way she'd arrange the vegetables in patterns and—" She paused, her expression growing soft. "They would have been so proud, Yu-yu."
There it is. The weight behind all this joy. The ghosts who should have been here to share this moment.
"They already knew," I said, surprising myself with the gentleness in my voice. "That's why they made sure you'd be here instead."
She reached up and cupped my face, her palms warm against my cheeks.
"How did you get so wise?"
Two lifetimes of experience. "Natural talent. Now go make me that rice before I die of starvation. Being the number one U.A. prospect is exhausting work."
She laughed, the sound bright and musical as she spun toward the refrigerator. "Arrogant as always. Some things never change."
I settled onto the couch, watching her work. The cramped kitchen transformed into her domain as she pulled ingredients from our meager supplies. Eggs, day-old rice, the last of our good soy sauce that she'd been saving for something special.
"Tell me again," she called over the sizzle of oil in the pan. "What exactly did All Might say about your rescue points?"
"Seventy points for tactical coordination and selfless heroism. Apparently, I 'redefined what it means to excel' at their little test."
"Of course you did." She cracked eggs into a bowl, whisking them until they foamed. "Did you plan it all along? The teamwork thing?"
I considered lying, crafting some story about noble intentions and heroic instincts. But Kimiko deserved better than that.
"I saw the angle. The hidden test was obvious once you knew what to look for. U.A. doesn't just want fighters—they want leaders. People who can think beyond themselves."
She paused in her whisking, glancing at me over her shoulder. "So you played the game."
"I played it better than anyone else in that arena."
"And you saved people while you were at it."
"That was just good strategy."
She turned fully now, wooden spoon pointed at me like a weapon. "Yu-yu."
"What?"
"You saved people. Not because you had to. Not because it was part of some grand plan. You saw someone in danger and you acted."
"Don't read too much into it, Kimi-nee. I just—"
"You just what? Accidentally became exactly the kind of person our parents hoped you'd be?"
The eggs hit the hot oil, immediate sizzling filling the kitchen. She turned back to her cooking, but I caught the smile tugging at her lips.
Damn. When did she get so good at seeing through my bullshit?
The smell of frying rice began to fill our tiny apartment, rich and savory and tinged with memories I didn't quite own. She'd gotten good at this—making something special from almost nothing.
"So," she said, adding vegetables to the pan in careful patterns. "U.A. University. The big leagues."
"The biggest."
"Dorms on campus. Fancy training facilities. Cafeteria food that doesn't come from convenience stores."
"Don't forget the networking opportunities. Future pro heroes make excellent contacts for ambitious agent-types."
She laughed, tossing the rice higher than strictly necessary. "Already thinking about how to leverage your education."
"Someone has to think about the business side. Heroes are terrible at managing their own careers."
"Lucky for them they'll have Murano siblings to fix that problem."
Murano siblings. The way she said it, like we were a team, like my success was automatically hers too. In my past life, relationships had been transactions. Mutually beneficial arrangements with clear terms and exit strategies. This was something else entirely.
"The apartment hunting starts next week," I said, watching her plate the rice in neat mounds. "Somewhere closer to campus. A bedroom, actual counter space, maybe even a washing machine that doesn't sound like it's dying."
"Yu-yu, we can't afford—"
"Hero students get stipends. Plus whatever sponsorship deals I can negotiate. Plus your agent commissions once you graduate." I leaned back against the couch cushions. "Trust me, Kimi-nee. The money problems are over."
She set the plates on our tiny table, the fried rice arranged in perfect spirals topped with bright vegetables. It looked almost too good to eat in our shabby kitchen.
"Just like that? We're just... done struggling?"
"Just like that."
She stared at the food, her hands clasped in front of her. "It doesn't feel real."
"The hologram of the Number One Hero congratulating me on my acceptance wasn't real enough?"
"No, I mean—" She gestured vaguely at the apartment. "It's been so long since I let myself believe things could actually get better."
"Hey." I stood up, moving to the table. "Look at me."
She raised her eyes, and I saw the scared girl beneath the confident woman. The one who'd lost everything and rebuilt it from nothing, who'd bet everything on a brother she barely understood anymore.
"It's real, Kimi-nee. All of it. The acceptance, the future, the life we're going to build. We made this possible."
We ate in comfortable silence, the special fried rice tasting like celebration and possibility. Kimiko had outdone herself—each grain perfectly separate, the eggs like golden clouds, the vegetables bright and crisp. It was the kind of meal that marked important moments, that said this is worth remembering.
"More?" she asked as I cleaned my plate.
"I'm good. That was perfect."
She beamed, collecting the dishes. "Mom's recipe never fails."
I helped her carry everything to the sink, our tiny kitchen forcing us to shoulder to shoulder, hip bumping hip as we maneuvered around each other.
Kimiko filled the sink with soapy water, humming the same tune from earlier. I grabbed a dish towel, settling into our familiar rhythm. Wash, rinse, dry, repeat. It was mundane and perfect and—
She stopped.
Her hands were submerged in the bubbles, but she'd gone completely still. I glanced over to find her staring at me, her mahogany eyes swimming with unshed tears.
"What?" I asked.
"Yu-yu." Her voice came out thick, barely above a whisper. "I'm so proud of you."
"Kimi-nee, you're going to make me—"
She moved before I could finish the sentence.
Her soapy hands came up to frame my face, and then she was launching herself upward, her legs wrapping around my waist as her arms circled my neck. The dish towel fell from my hands as I automatically caught her, my palms sliding under her thighs to support her weight.
"I'm so proud," she whispered against my ear, her voice breaking. "So, so proud."
And then her lips found mine.
The kiss crashed into me like a charged coin hitting its target. Desperate, passionate, tasting of salt tears and sweet victory. Her mouth moved against mine with an urgency that spoke of months of suppressed emotion finally finding an outlet.
I stood frozen. My mind flashed a series of useless error messages.
Kimiko.
Sister.
Soapy hands.
Lips.
None of it formed a coherent thought.
Her legs tightened around my waist, pulling us closer together. Her fingers tangled in my white hair, tugging gently as she deepened the kiss. Every logical thought in my head evaporated under the assault of sensation and emotion.
This is wrong, some distant part of my mind whispered. This is dangerous. This changes everything.
But the rest of me—the part that had been starving for genuine connection since the moment I'd woken up in this body—didn't care about logic or consequences. This was Kimiko, and she was choosing me, celebrating me, claiming me in the most intimate way possible.
The kiss lasted forever and no time at all. When she finally pulled back, her cheeks were flushed crimson, her breathing ragged. Her mahogany eyes were wide with shock at her own actions.
We stared at each other, frozen in that intimate embrace. The smell of fried rice lingered in the air around us, mixing with the soap bubbles and the sudden electric tension that had transformed our tiny kitchen into something else entirely.
Neither of us moved. Neither of us spoke.
A new line had been crossed, and there was no going back.
===
A/N:
Hey guys, Riki here.
I know, I know. I said no double chapters. But this—this—is important.
Fuck.
I'm staring at my laptop screen, cursor blinking after that last line like it's mocking me. "A new line had been crossed, and there was no going back." Real subtle there, Riki. Real fucking subtle.
This moment between Kimiko and Yukio? It's a crossroads. Not just for them, but for the entire story. I can feel the narrative weight of it, the way everything shifts depending on which direction I take this.
Option A: Lean into it. Make this the catalyst for a deeper, more complex relationship between them. It's emotionally honest, they are two people clinging to each other in a world that's taken everything else away. The taboo element adds tension, raises stakes, creates internal conflict that could drive character development for chapters.
Option B: Pull back. Have one of them break the moment, establish boundaries, keep things familial but charged. Maybe Kimiko pulls away, horrified at herself. Maybe Yukio steps back, protecting what they have. Safer territory, but potentially less interesting.
Option C: The nuclear option. Reveal they're not actually blood-related. Adoption, step-siblings, some convenient plot device that makes this "acceptable" in traditional narrative terms. But that feels like cheating, doesn't it? Like I'm backing down from the complexity I created.
Fuck, I should have just made them step-siblings from the beginning. Would have solved everything.
But I didn't.
The problem is, I'm flying blind here. This is uncharted territory, and I need to know if my readers are with me or if I'm about to torpedo the entire emotional foundation of the story.
So here's what I'm asking: LEAVE COMMENTS. Tell me what you think. Where should this go? How do you feel about this development? Are you invested in exploring this complexity, or should I pump the brakes?
Because right now, Yukio and Kimiko are frozen in that kitchen, and I'm frozen at my keyboard. The story can go anywhere from here, but I need to know which direction serves the narrative best.
So talk to me. What's the move here?