The morning sun slipped lazily through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the dining table. The clink of chopsticks echoed faintly as Mikan slid bowls of miso soup into place.
"Breakfast is ready, Onii-chan, Mashiro-chan," she called, her voice crisp despite the early hour.
Rito shuffled in, still rubbing sleep from his eyes. His uniform blazer hung loosely over one arm, hair sticking up like a hedgehog. "Mornin'…" he muttered, slumping into his seat.
"Sit up straight before your back breaks," Mikan scolded instantly, hands on her hips.
"Y-yeah, yeah…" Rito grabbed his chopsticks and started on the rice, only to pause halfway. His gaze flicked to the other side of the table.
Mashiro sat there in her freshly pressed uniform, ribbon slightly crooked, golden hair spilling over her shoulders. She wasn't eating yet—just staring at her untouched bowl of rice like it was a still-life painting waiting to be drawn.
"Mashiro-chan, you have to eat," Mikan said gently, leaning over to adjust the ribbon at her collar. "Not just stare at it."
Mashiro blinked slowly, then raised her chopsticks with a deliberate motion. She scooped a small bite, chewed once, then nodded faintly. "...Tastes warm."
Rito chuckled under his breath. "That's one way to describe breakfast."
"You're not one to talk, Onii-chan," Mikan shot back, squinting at his bedhead. "Eat first, then fix your hair. If you go to school looking like that, people will think you slept in a tree."
"Oi, it's not that bad!" He grabbed his chopsticks defensively, but Mashiro tilted her head, amber eyes focused on his hair.
"…Tree bird," she murmured softly, as if making an observation.
Rito almost choked on his rice. "H-hey, don't just side with her like that!"
Mikan giggled, clearly pleased with Mashiro's accidental jab. "See? Even Mashiro-chan agrees."
The three of them ate together in that odd rhythm—Mikan multitasking between nagging and fussing, Mashiro eating in small, careful bites like each one was a study in texture, and Rito doing his best to pretend he was just a normal big brother instead of some reincarnated system-holder.
When the bowls were finally empty, Mikan stood and clapped her hands together. "Alright! Onii-chan, you take Mashiro-chan today. Make sure she finds her classroom without trouble, okay?"
Rito froze mid-step, pointing at himself. "Eh? Me? Why not you?"
"Because I study in a different school, or do you want me to go over to your school too?" Mikan said sweetly, already pulling on her cardigan. "Besides, Mashiro-chan listens to you more."
Mashiro blinked, her chopsticks still in hand. Slowly, her gaze shifted to Rito. "…Together," she echoed softly.
Rito's cheeks twitched. "D-don't say it like that; people will get the wrong idea!"
Mikan's lips curved into a mischievous grin. "Oh, they'll definitely get the right idea."
"O-Oi!" Rito's protest was drowned out by Mikan's giggle and Mashiro's calm silence.
Rito tugged on his blazer, smoothing it over his shoulders before leaning into the mirror. A quick dab of hair gel and a little effort, and the messy "tree bird" look had finally transformed into something halfway respectable.
"Not bad," he muttered, lips twitching into a faint smile. "Mikan would probably nag me less like this."
Stepping out of his room, he paused mid-stride.
Mashiro was already waiting in the living room. Her uniform fit perfectly, the ribbon neatly tied thanks to Mikan's earlier fussing.
The pale fabric contrasted with her golden hair, which shimmered faintly under the morning light. She stood there quietly, almost statuesque—like a model placed in the middle of an everyday scene.
For a heartbeat, Rito forgot to breathe.
'…Beautiful,' the thought slipped through before he could stop it. Not just beautiful—her presence was surreal, like she'd walked straight out of a canvas.
He shook his head quickly, forcing a chuckle under his breath. Get a grip, Rito. You're a grown man inside, remember?
Even so, his eyes softened. Mashiro's beauty wasn't something he could deny, nor could he ignore how Mikan herself was slowly blossoming into her own radiance.
He never allowed himself to dwell on it, but deep down he knew—his little sister was already the kind of girl boys would turn their heads for.
"Rito, don't stare so much."
Mikan's voice snapped him back. She was tying her hair back, glancing at him with a knowing smirk. "If you keep looking at Mashiro-chan like that, she'll think you're weird."
Rito flailed slightly, rubbing his cheek. "H-Hey, it's not like that! I was just… thinking she really looks ready for school."
Mashiro blinked slowly at him, then gave the tiniest nod. "...Ready."
Her soft response carried no emotion, yet somehow, it made Rito feel like his heart skipped a beat.
With his bag slung over his shoulder, he moved toward the door. "Alright then. Let's get going, Mashiro."
Mashiro padded quietly after him, slipping into her shoes with slow, careful motions. She stayed close, as though attaching herself to his rhythm.
From behind, Mikan called out, hands on her hips. "Take care of her, Onii-chan! Don't get into weird trouble on the way!"
Rito groaned. "Do I ever ask for trouble?"
Mikan smirked knowingly. "No. It just… finds you."
He froze, cheeks twitching. "…She's not wrong."
The front gate clattered shut as they stepped out. Mikan gave a short wave, pigtails swaying as she jogged down the opposite street toward her middle school.
"See you later, Onii-chan! Mashiro-chan! Don't be late!"
Rito lifted a hand in return, then sighed softly. "There she goes… busy as always."
That left just the two of them. Mashiro slipped neatly into step beside him, her small hand clutching his sleeve like it was the most natural thing in the world. She didn't speak, but her golden hair shimmered under the sunlight, catching every stray gaze in the street.
Rito could feel it—the shift in atmosphere. Boys on bicycles slowed their pedaling, their eyes flicking shamelessly toward Mashiro.
A pair of office workers passing by whispered to each other, one of them almost tripping over a step. Even the store clerk sweeping the front of the convenience store paused mid-motion, broom hanging forgotten in his hand.
Mashiro, of course, noticed none of it. Her gaze was fixed forward, expression blank, every step quiet and deliberate. To her, this was just a walk. But to everyone else…
'She really stands out,' Rito thought, biting back a grimace. 'This is beyond the level of a transfer student catching attention. This is the Mashiro Shiina effect. A walking event flag.'
He tilted his head slightly, letting his eyes wander over the familiar scenery—the narrow road lined with houses, the overhead power lines crisscrossing against a bright sky, and the distant bark of a dog. It was all so ordinary. So Japanese suburbia.
And yet, walking here with Mashiro clinging to his sleeve, the world around him suddenly felt like an anime set piece. The sunlight seemed warmer, the colors more saturated, and the faint breeze carried the scent of summer grass.
He half-expected sparkles to materialize around Mashiro at any moment, with cherry blossom petals floating in the air despite it being the wrong season.
Rito chuckled under his breath. "Man… if this isn't a romcom protagonist's morning route, I don't know what is."
Mashiro blinked at him, tilting her head ever so slightly. "...Funny?"
"Ah, no, don't worry about it," he said quickly, scratching his cheek. 'Explaining meta jokes to her would just make me look like a lunatic.'
The school gate was opened before them, its iron bars open wide as waves of students streamed inside. Chatter filled the air—uniforms rustling, laughter carrying across the courtyard, and the occasional bark of a disciplinary committee member reminding latecomers to hurry up.
Mashiro clung lightly to Rito's sleeve, her amber eyes scanning the unfamiliar scenery without expression. To everyone else, though, she might as well have been radiating light. Whispers followed them—curious girls, envious boys, all wondering who the golden-haired transfer was.
Rito felt the weight of those stares pressing on his back. He silently sighed, thinking how he should get used to it.
"Alright, let's get you to the staff room first," he muttered, steering Mashiro toward the administrative wing.
The corridors smelled faintly of chalk and floor polish, the sunlight spilling through wide windows and illuminating neat rows of shoe lockers. They passed class doors half-open, students glancing out curiously. Rito kept his expression neutral, though inside, he was sweating at the sheer attention.
Finally, they reached the staff room. Rito paused for a breath, knocked lightly, and slid the door open.
"Excuse me. I brought the new transfer student."
Dozens of eyes turned toward them, teachers lifting their heads from paperwork or steaming cups of coffee. At the front, however, one figure immediately drew Rito's attention—so much so that he nearly froze in place.
Waist-length dark brown hair that gleamed like silk under the fluorescent light. Emerald-green eyes framed by neatly parted bangs. A slender frame, her crisp blouse fitting snugly beneath her blazer. She sat at a desk, posture straight, radiating both youthful elegance and a subtle allure.
Rito's breath caught. Tachibana Hina.
His stomach twisted. Of course she'd be here. Another character pulled straight out of anime and dropped into his reality.
A sigh escaped him before he could stop it, irritation bubbling in his chest. Not at her, but at the tangled mess of her story. That reckless, selfish MC from her anime… and that damn teacher who strung her along. Two years of waiting, kept like a mistress, only for things to implode because of a stepbrother's selfish desire. If this were reality back then, I swear I'd have punched them both into next week.
But here she was, alive. Not a drawing, not a tragic figure in some drama—real.
"Hm? Come in," Hina's voice broke through, smooth and gentle yet carrying the calm authority of a teacher. Her emerald eyes flicked over to them and instantly softened when they landed on Mashiro.
"You must be Shiina Mashiro-chan," she said warmly, standing from her seat. "I've been informed of your transfer. I'll be your homeroom teacher starting today."
Mashiro blinked at her, expression unreadable, but gave a small nod. "…Yes."
Rito straightened awkwardly, scratching his cheek. "I'm Yuuki Rito. I was asked to bring her here."
For a brief second, Hina's gaze lingered on him. A hint of curiosity flickered across her eyes, but then she returned her attention to Mashiro with a gentle smile.
"I've read some of your work," Hina continued, her tone professional yet tinged with admiration.
[TN: "Read" here is like a philosophical word for understand the art.]
"Even though I majored in language, I have studied art. To be honest, I was quite surprised the school decided to place you under my care… but I'll do my best to help you settle in."
Mashiro tilted her head slightly. "…You've seen it?"
Hina's smile deepened. "Yes. Your art carries something… different. A voice that doesn't need words."
Mashiro blinked once, then fell silent again, but the faintest shift in her posture suggested those words had reached her.
Rito stood to the side, watching the exchange quietly.
"Mashiro! Then I will go back to my class. And if you need anything, you know my class, right? I just told you while coming here. Come find me there; just remember it as an art."
Knowing that asking Mashiro to remember the path is like an impossible task, he remembered the thing from the anime and asked her to remember it as art, telling her that these things can come in useful during the manga drawing, so clearly remember everything.
With a small smile on his face, Rito gently patted Mashiro's head, who still had that silent look gazing at him. "Hmm..." With a light smile, she nodded back.
After that, Rito bowed toward Hina-sensei and left.