For a week, things were quiet. Deceptively so.
The guilt from that Friday night, compounded by the sight of Yuna with her friends, had solidified into a firm, if fragile, resolve in Makoto's mind.
He had to end this.
He found her on the following Friday, scrolling through her phone on the sofa. The house was quiet; their parents were out for the evening.
It was the perfect, dangerous opportunity for a repeat performance. Instead, he took a deep breath.
"Hey," he began, his voice carefully casual. "Wanna go get some lunch? My treat."
Yuna looked up, her eyes narrowing. Free food from her notoriously broke brother was an immediate red flag. "Free lunch?"
She scooted closer, sniffing the air theatrically. "Did big bro run out of tissues and need me to drain his special juice again?"
Her grin was sharp, a familiar jab. She kicked her bare feet into his lap. "Fine. But I pick the place."
Her thumbs flew over her phone screen. "There's this new maid café where the servers call you Master..." She flashed him the menu. The prices made his wallet ache.
As he stood to leave, she hooked a finger in his belt loop. "Oh, and big bro?" Her voice dropped to a silken purr. "I'm adding a new package: the combo discount. Twenty percent off if you can last more than one round while we fuck, just like last time."
She skipped ahead, calling over her shoulder with a cheerful, wicked laugh. "Think about it over ramen! Mom's out of town all weekend."
"Just a normal lunch today, no maid cafe," Makoto said, his voice softer than he intended.
He kept a careful distance between them as they walked. "I've got something I need to talk to you about."
Yuna's teasing smirk froze.
For a split second, a genuine surprise flickered across her face before she schooled her features back into a mask of indifference. "Okay?"
She eyed him warily as they walked, the sudden shift in his demeanor clearly unnerving her. "Did you finally go bankrupt from funding my gacha addiction?" she asked, but the usual bite was missing.
She was unusually quiet as they entered the ramen shop. A tense, unspoken question hung in the air. When the food arrived, she poked at her noodles, her appetite gone.
"So?" she finally muttered, not meeting his eyes. "What's the big talk? Did you… find a girlfriend or something?"
It was a test. He knew it.
But it was also an out. A simple explanation for his sudden change of heart.
He took it.
"Yeah, sort of," he lied, poking at his own noodles.
He couldn't look at her, couldn't bear to see her reaction. "Do..., don't you think we should… go back to being normal siblings? I can still give you some allowance from time to time."
The clatter of Yuna's chopsticks hitting the counter was like a gunshot.
Her face went utterly blank for three terrifying seconds.
Then, she laughed. It was a sharp, jagged sound, devoid of any real humor.
"Normal?" Her voice was dangerously quiet, a low, simmering threat. "After you spent half a million yen to fuck me while I was dressed as some gacha waifu and a loli?"
She leaned in, her eyes burning with a cold, furious fire. "After you made me skip a shower just so you could get off on it?"
She slammed her hand down on the counter, rattling their bowls. "You don't get to be normal now, big bro."
Her smile was a venomous, predatory thing. "Does your new girlfriend know how you creampied your stepsister in our house? Does she know you bought me a Ganyu cosplay just so I'd call you Traveler while I was sucking you off?"
She stood up abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. "Fine, we're done. Keep your fucking allowance!"
Her voice cracked, a raw, jagged edge of pain. "I'll just find another degenerate to fund my pulls."
The thought of her with someone else, another man, another customer, doing the things they'd done… it was almost a physical blow to him.
"Stop," he said, his hand shooting out to grab her wrist. "You're… not allowed to do that." The words were possessive, irrational, but they were the truth.
"Think of your future, your health," he muttered, finally looking up at her, his own desperation reflected in his eyes. "What if you meet some creepy guys or something?"
Yuna's eyes flashed with something between raw rage and a deep, aching hurt.
She tried to yank her hand free, but he held on tight. "Oh, NOW you care about my safety?"
Her voice was a low, vicious snarl. "After you turned me into your personal fucktoy?"
She leaned down, her face inches from his, her scent filling his senses. "What's the difference between you and some creepy guy, huh? At least they'd pay market rate instead of trying to guilt-trip me with some pathetic sibling bullshit."
Her free hand grabbed his chin, forcing him to look at her. "You made me into this, remember? Your perfect little whore who dresses up as cartoon characters for your sick fantasies."
Her voice cracked slightly, a hairline fracture in her armor of rage. "So don't you DARE try to play the protective big brother now."
She finally wrenched her hand away, but she didn't leave.
Instead, she sat back down heavily, a sudden, weary slump in her shoulders. The fight seemed to drain out of her, leaving something fragile and uncertain in its place.
"…Who is she?" she asked quietly, staring at her untouched bowl of ramen.
The lie crumbled under the weight of her quiet, intense gaze. "My classmate…" he began, then faltered, the words dying in his throat.
"I couldn't do it. I couldn't lie to her, not about this." He sighed, a long, ragged sound of defeat. "Fine, I confess. I haven't gotten any girlfriend yet, okay?"
He looked up, his own vulnerability a raw, open wound. "I just want to… stop. Before we get too deep into this, and can't get out."
"You LIAR!" Yuna's hand shot out, slapping his arm.
But there was no real force behind it, only a profound, palpable relief that bled through her fury. "I knew it! You can't even talk to a girl without stuttering, let alone get a date with one!"
She leaned back, crossing her arms with a smug grin, her confidence returning in a rush. "So what's the real reason, big bro?"
"Feeling guilty? Scared mommy will find out?" Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, her eyes glinting with a dangerous, knowing light. "Or are you just afraid you're starting to fall for your little stepsister?"
She stole a bite of his ramen, chewing it thoughtfully. "Too bad. There are no refunds on past sexual services."
Her foot found his under the table, a familiar, intimate gesture. "Besides…" she purred, her voice a low, seductive promise. "…you've already corrupted me. You might as well keep me satisfied… so I don't have to find someone else to play dress-up with."
"Someone else..." The unspoken threat, the image of her with another man, another creepy guy, sent a fresh wave of cold, possessive dread through him.
He was trapped. Not by her blackmail, not anymore. But by his own, terrifying, undeniable feelings.