Not late for dinner—late coming home . It had been three years since he left for college in Tokyo, and this was his first visit back. The train should have arrived an hour ago.
He rubbed his forehead, bewildered. “What?” baku ane otouto
“Good,” she said. “Now you’re awake.” Not late for dinner—late coming home
For the first time that night, Sora’s smile reached his eyes. “You’re weird.” bewildered. “What?” “Good
“Ow!”
Sora stared. Then, unexpectedly, his eyes glistened. “Nee-chan, you can’t just—”
Dinner was warm nikujaga —his favorite. They ate in a rhythm of old habits: she stole a potato from his bowl; he retaliated by hiding the soy sauce. But halfway through, his chopsticks stopped moving.