Takashi’s world got flipped upside down and run when his parents tied the knot again. Suddenly, his chill, predictable life got a surprise DLC pack that included a brand-new stepsister. The idea of cohabitating with a total stranger who was a girl had his social anxiety doing backflips. The idea of sharing his domain with a girl he’d never met was more awkward than a turtle in a rollerblade race. He was geared up for a total cringe-pocalypse.
But his brain, bless its heart, couldn’t even process the download for Alice.
Alice, his new stepsister, was straight from Scandinavia, and her presence in his standard-issue Japanese home was like a supernova in a broom closet. She was stunning, with a calm so potent it could mellow out a hyperactive squirrel. On one hand, Takashi was genuinely stoked; scoring a sister who was both kind and easy on the eyes was a plot twist he hadn’t seen coming. Yet, on the other hand, a very specific, very bountiful physical feature of hers started throwing his internal composure into a woodchipper. We’re talking about her chest, a glorious, attention-commanding situation that had more gravitational pull than a mini black hole.
It was an undeniable fact of life, like bad pop music or long lines, that constantly had him fighting to keep his cool. But Takashi was dead-set on being a legit brother. He saw Alice putting in the work, trying to bridge their worlds with the earnestness of a golden retriever puppy. He respected the grind. So, he made a call. He took all those flustered, un-brotherly feelings, stuffed them into a mental lockbox, and chucked the key. He built a fortress of “chill bro vibes” and “platonic solidarity.” He was gonna be the rockstar older brother she needed. He’d listen to her tales about fjords and whatnot, keeping things smoother than a fresh jar of Skippy. For a hot minute, the fortress held, strong enough to survive a zombie apocalypse.
Then came the day that nuked the whole site from orbit.
It was a classic cliché kerfuffle, a misstep, an unlatched door that should’ve been a fortress. In a blink-and-you-miss-it, soul-leaving-his-body moment, Takashi saw Alice in her birthday suit. The image didn’t just enter his brain; it kicked the door down, redecorated the place with neon signs, and started blaring airhorns. The image didn’t just enter his mind; it booted up his brain, installed itself as the new wallpaper.
And just like that, the mighty fortress of “brotherly duty” that whole shaky Jenga tower of “rational distance” and “appropriate feelings” didn’t just crumble, it vaporized. Poof. Gone.