The rhythmic ticking of the analog clock on the wall was the only sound anchoring me to reality.
I was currently suspended in that hazy, nebulous space between deep sleep and wakefulness, floating in a comfortable void where the overwhelming exhaustion of my daily life temporarily ceased to exist. My body was sinking into the mattress, and my mind was blissfully empty. I didn't want to wake up.
But reality, as it always did, had a funny way of dragging me back kicking and screaming.
It started as a soft murmur. A whisper slicing through the quiet hum of the early morning.
Big brother...
I shifted slightly under the duvet, groaning softly. My conscious mind tried to bat the sound away like a pesky fly.
Big brother... Wake up.
Someone was calling for me. I didn't need to open my eyes to know who it was. The voice was painfully familiar. High-pitched, melodic, and laced with an undercurrent of demands disguised as affection.
It was my "Little Sister." She was calling for me.
Wake up, big brother.
Yeah, yeah, I'll wake up soon, I thought to myself, keeping my eyes squeezed shut. Just give me five more minutes. Just five minutes of peace before the circus begins.
I tried to burrow deeper into the pillows, hoping the silence would return.
That was when I heard it. The shift in her tone. The threat.
"If you don't wake up right now, I'll kiss you."
My groggy brain stumbled over the words. What did she just say?
I was confused for a fraction of a second, my mind trying to process the lunacy I just heard. I didn't have time to think off a response before the physical sensation hit me.
Warmth pressed against my lips. It was sudden, soft, and entirely unwelcome. Before my eyes could even snap open in alarm, I felt it. The slick, wet slide of a tongue pushing past my lips, invading my mouth.
My eyes flew open, wide and staring.
I woke up to a terrifying sight. Jeanne Arc, my beloved, but also annoyingly clingy sister was straddling my waist, pinning me down to the mattress. Both of her hands were firmly planted on either side of my cheeks, holding my head in place so I couldn't pull away. Her mouth was smashed right on top of mine, and her blue eyes—mirror images of my own—were wide open, staring right down at me from merely an inch away.
I glared at her. I channeled every ounce of the rising annoyance I felt into that glare, screaming at her to stop without words.
She didn't stop. She kept her eyes locked on mine, entirely unbothered by my hostility.
It took a agonizing few seconds for my brain to fully reboot and signal my motor functions. With a sudden burst of panicked strength, I brought my hands up, grabbed her by the shoulders, and shoved her roughly to the side.
Our lips parted with a wet, sticky sound. A thin trail of saliva connected us for a sickening moment before breaking.
I didn't stop to scold her. I didn't stop to ask what the hell was wrong with her. I scrambled backward off the bed, my feet hitting the cold floorboards. I bolted out of the dorm room and sprinted directly for the attached bathroom down the hall.
Behind me, I could hear her gasping for a bit of breath. I didn't turn around, but I knew she was looking at me.
"Good morning big~ bro~ ther~!" she sings song out at my retreating back, her voice a sickeningly cheerful, singsong tone that grated against my ears.
I slammed the bathroom door shut behind me, leaning over the porcelain sink. I turned the cold water tap on full blast. I took a second to just stare at my haggard reflection in the mirror, blinking awake at this particular brand of morning misery.
Today's punishment from god, I thought grimly.
I reached for the large bottle of blue mouthwash sitting on the shelf. I didn't even bother with a cup. I uncapped it and took a massive swig straight from the plastic bottle.
Gurgle. Gurgle. Gurgle.
I swished the harsh, minty liquid around my mouth as violently as I could, trying to scrub the phantom sensation of her tongue from my memory. I leaned forward and spat the blue foam down the drain, splashing cold water on my face for good measure.
"PHEW!" I exhaled loudly, staring at the swirling water going down the drain.
I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, my heart rate finally starting to settle.
Out in the bedroom, sitting alone on the edge of my messy mattress, Jeanne listened to the frantic sounds of running water and exaggerated gagging coming from the bathroom.
She pouted slightly, puffing her cheeks out as she crossed her arms over her chest.
"...Whoa, that really hurts," she muttered to herself, her eyes dropping to the floor. Though the small, lingering smirk on her face completely contradicted the hurt tone of her voice.
A few minutes later, after thoroughly brushing my teeth and scrubbing my face, I finally walked out of the bathroom, feeling somewhat human again.
I stepped into the small kitchenette area shared by our dorm rooms. Jeanne was already there, bustling around the counter. She had changed out of her pajamas and was wearing her standard Beacon uniform, looking pristine and ready for the day.
She turned around as I entered, a bright, welcoming smile on her face. She held two plates in her hands.
She walked over to the small dining table and set them down. She had brought me breakfast. Not just cereal or a protein bar, but a full, cooked meal. There was perfectly toasted bread, crisp bacon, sunny-side-up eggs, and a tall glass of fresh orange juice.
It looked undeniably delicious. The smell of the bacon made my stomach rumble traitorously.
I stood in the doorway, my shoulders slumping in defeat. "...Little Sister, please. I beg of you, spare me. It's only morning. I don't have the energy for this yet."
Jeanne tilted her head to the side, executing a perfect, textbook 'cute' pose. Her blonde hair fell over her shoulder. "Spare you? With what? I don't know what you mean, Jon-Jon." She pointed enthusiastically at the chair opposite hers. "Anyway, hurry up and sit down! Tada~! I made you a healthy breakfast!"
I looked down at the breakfast spread. As good as it looked, as much as my stomach wanted it, experience had taught me a harsh lesson. If a meal came with such a suffocating burden attached to it every single morning—the burden of her overbearing attention and absolute lack of boundaries—I honestly didn't think I could stomach it.
I walked over to the table and pulled out the chair. I sat down, staring at the eggs.
"...I don't need it," I told her, my voice flat. "You eat it yourself. You need the energy for combat practice more than I do."
"No!" she immediately rebutted, slamming her hands flat against the tabletop. She leaned forward, glaring at me with sudden, intense motherly disapproval. "You need to eat properly! Big Brother, what do you usually eat when I don't cook for you? It's just cheap, frozen microwave garbage! I see the empty boxes inside the trash bin all the time! Curry, instant noodles, questionable meat pockets."
She pointed an accusing finger at my chest. "You are a growing boy and a Huntsman-in-training. You need to eat healthier. Now, eat the eggs."
I sighed silently, picking up a fork. I stared at the yellow yolk, resigned to my fate.
This incredibly noisy, bossy girl is Jeanne Arc, my internal monologue droned on, narrating my miserable existence. She is my twin. But more importantly, in her mind, she is my 'Little Sister.' A technicality, considering I only came out of the womb first by a grand total of maybe five minutes. But those five minutes are apparently enough to dictate our entire dynamic.
I poked the egg with the tines of my fork.
Are you asking if I also think this woman is a good-for-nothing, just like the rest of the lunatics at this academy?
I watched her happily bite into a piece of toast, kicking her legs lightly under the table.
What an absurd question. Of course she isn't. Despite her glaring, massive flaws, she's the cutest little sister in the whole damn world. I wouldn't trade her for anything.
...If only she wasn't so incredibly, suffocatingly clingy.
I took a bite of the bacon. It was perfectly cooked. I begrudgingly admitted defeat and started eating the meal she prepared.
As I reached for the glass of orange juice and took a long drink, my eyes wandered across the table. I froze mid-sip.
Jeanne wasn't looking at me anymore. She was looking down at her hands.
More specifically, she was going through my Scroll.
I lowered the glass, my eyes narrowing instantly. The cold dread creeping into my stomach had nothing to do with the temperature of the juice.
"Jeanne," I said, my voice dropping an octave, trying to keep the panic out of my tone. "That's my Scroll, right?"
"Yeah," she answered casually, not looking up from the glowing screen as her thumb rapidly scrolled through my applications.
This could get dangerous very quickly, I thought, my muscles tensing. My scroll was a landmine of terrible decisions and associations.
Jeanne suddenly stopped scrolling. She tapped the screen and held the device up, shoving it directly in front of my face so the bright light forced me to squint.
"Hey, Big Brother," Jeanne asked, her voice dangerously sweet. "Whose number is this?"
She was pointing to a specific entry in my call history. An unsaved, unknown number that had called me yesterday afternoon.
Ah... Shit, I cursed internally, my mind racing. I recognized the sequence of digits. I was almost certain that was Coco's private number. She had called to confirm our 'appointment' time at her VIP dorm. If Jeanne dialed that number and Coco answered... the resulting fallout would be catastrophic. Not just for me, but for entire dorm room.
I didn't hesitate. I immediately lied through my teeth.
"Ah, that?" I said, keeping my face a mask of absolute boredom. "That's just the delivery guy."
"A delivery guy?" she repeated skeptically.
"Yeah. He called me yesterday before he delivered some stuff I ordered online," I lied as easily and naturally as I breathed. Years of deflecting her interrogations had honed my deceptive skills to a razor edge. "He couldn't find the entrance to our specific dorm because the signage is confusing. I had to guide him in."
"Really?" Jeanne asked, slowly raising a single eyebrow in deep suspicion. Her blue eyes scrutinized my face, searching for any micro-expression that would give me away.
"Really, really," I affirmed, breaking eye contact. I grabbed my fork and stuffed a massive piece of egg and bacon into my mouth, chewing aggressively. "Th' foo was gettin' cold," I mumbled around the food, trying to look entirely unbothered by her interrogation.
Jeanne lowered the scroll. She rested her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her hands. She stared at me in absolute silence for a long, agonizing five seconds. The only sound in the room was me chewing my breakfast.
Finally, she nodded her head once, her tense posture relaxing. She seemed satisfied with my ironclad alibi.
"Okay," Jeanne said cheerfully. "I believe you. But I'll still delete it from your history, just in case. It clutters up your contacts, 'kay, big bro?"
She didn't wait for my permission. Her thumb swiped across the screen, erasing the entry permanently.
"...Okay," I replied, forcing myself to swallow the food. I just rolled my eyes and shrugged my shoulders as if I didn't care in the slightest.
Sorry, Coco, I apologized internally to the fashionista. Looks like I'll have to ask for your private number again another time.
As I watched my little sister hum happily while backing out of my call history app, I couldn't help but lament how she had grown up over the years.
It might be unsurprising to anyone observing us for more than five minutes, but Jeanne held an iron grip over my social life. Specifically, Jeanne hadn't officially given me "permission" to make friends of the opposite sex yet.
In fact, some time ago, right before we enrolled at Beacon, she didn't even want to allow me to make friends in general. She preferred the isolation where it was just the two of us against the world. But, of course, after months of me begging, pleading, and bribing her with countless hours of headpats—lots and lots of headpats, until my arm was literally numb and aching—she finally, begrudgingly, allowed me to have friends at the academy.
But her permission came with strict, non-negotiable caveats. I was allowed to have friends, just not close female ones.
"Close" in this specific situation meant associating in any sort of way that her deeply paranoid mind could see as possibly romantic. Like hanging out alone after classes, or worse, having their personal numbers saved on my phone.
Nora Valkyrie and Lie Ren were a "very special" exception to this draconian rule because they were my childhood friends. We had known them for years, so Jeanne begrudgingly tolerated their presence, even if Nora's erratic behavior annoyed her.
Pyrrha Nikos somehow managed to get through Jeanne's impenetrable defensive because she was Jeanne's partner. Furthermore, Pyrrha's acting skills were genuinely terrifying. The red-haired champion was good enough to completely hide her more stalker-ish tendencies from Jeanne's eagle-eyed views, projecting the image of a perfect, harmless, supportive teammate.
To Jeanne, Pyrrha was an idol. To me, Pyrrha was a threat lurking in the back. But I couldn't warn Jeanne without sounding insane.
Jeanne is what society would call a "Bro-Con." Spoiled, deeply possessive, fiercely territorial. That was the reality of the cute little sister of mine.
"Ah! Oops!"
Jeanne's sudden exclamation pulled me from my thoughts. I looked over. She was holding the scroll up, looking at the screen with an exaggerated expression of theatrical guilt.
"Oh no, no~~" Jeanne whined, her tone falsely tragic. "I made a terrible mistake! My finger slipped, and I accidentally deleted Nora's contact too~!"
She looked up at me, winking playfully. "Sorry, big bro! My~ bad! So sorry, sorry~!"
I didn't believe her for a second. There was zero chance that was an accident.
I reached across the small table with blinding speed. Before she could react, my index finger connected solidly with her forehead.
Flick.
"Ouch!" Jeanne yelped, dropping the scroll onto the table and bringing both hands up to cover her stinging forehead. She glared at me, her eyes watering slightly from the impact.
"Geez, you idiot," I scolded her, reclaiming my scroll and slipping it securely into my pocket. "Now I've gotta go through the hassle of asking her and re-registering her number all over again!"
Jeanne rubbed her forehead, her playful demeanor completely vanishing. She looked down at the floor tiles, her blonde bangs shadowing her eyes. The atmosphere in the small kitchen shifted instantly, growing heavy and uncomfortable.
"...Big Brother," Jeanne asked. Her voice was hesitant, quiet. Stripped of all the cheerful bravado.
I paused, halfway through reaching for the orange juice again. I tilted my head slightly, looking at her downturned face.
Where is this going now? I thought to myself, bracing for impact.
"Do you... do you like Nora?" Jeanne asked softly, finally looking up. Her blue eyes were piercing, searching mine for the absolute truth.
I let out a small breath, relaxing slightly. This was familiar territory. The constant need for reassurance.
"Yeah, I like her," I answered honestly, my tone casual. "She's my childhood friend. Why wouldn't I like her?"
Jeanne's expression didn't brighten. Instead, her eyes seemed to turn flat, losing their usual sparkle. She looked back down at her half-eaten toast, her grip on the table edge tightening until her knuckles turned white.
"More than me?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper, thick with insecurity.
I just sighed. It was a long, deep sigh that carried the weight of years of dealing with this exact, recurring insecurity.
I pushed my chair back, the wooden legs scraping loudly against the floor. I stood up, walked around the small dining table, and stood next to her chair.
She kept her head down, refusing to look at me.
I reached down, grasped her arms, and pulled her upward. I wrapped my arms around her shoulders and pulled her close, pressing her head firmly against my chest.
She stiffened in surprise for a second before slowly relaxing, letting her arms wrap tentatively around my waist.
"What's the point in comparing like that, you idiot?" I said softly into her hair. "It's entirely different. I may like Nora as a friend, but I like you, Jeanne. You're my little sister."
I felt the tension finally bleed out of her body. She stood perfectly still for a few seconds, absorbing the words.
Then, I felt her smile as she rubs her face against the fabric of my school uniform. She turned her head, rubbing her cheek affectionately against my chest like a content cat.
"...Yeah," Jeanne whispered, her voice bright returning. "I know. I like you too, Big Bro!"
She squeezed my waist tightly. I patted her back, glad we had averted a major morning crisis.
Suddenly, Jeanne tilted her head back. She looked up at my face from her position against my chest. The innocent, reassured smile morphed back into that cheeky, dangerously playful grin she had worn when I first woke up.
"Now..." Jeanne purred, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Do you want a proper kiss before class to seal the deal, bro~? ❤"
I froze. The warmth of the sibling moment evaporated instantly, replaced by a sudden spike of annoyance.
I stopped hugging her immediately. I grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her away, creating a solid two feet of distance between us.
"Alright, that's enough of that," I said flatly, my face deadpan once again. "You completely ruined the mood."
I grabbed my book bag from where I had tossed it near the door. I threw the strap over my shoulder and headed for the exit without looking back.
"Clean up the plates. Let's go to class already, or we'll actually be late."
As I stepped out into the hallway, I could hear her giggling behind me, entirely unbothered by my rejection. I shook my head, steeling myself for whatever new nightmare the rest of the academy had in store for me today.
If dealing with my sister was the easiest part of my morning, the rest of the day was practically guaranteed to be a disaster.Last