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“Is this my little sister?” Ayato can’t help but ask when he first meets her—still seven years old and unsure of where his place is in this world of great unknowns. But this little bundle of warmth and perfection slumbering away in the safety of their mother’s arms is the manifestation of his love and joy, the sole reason for Ayato’s tiny existence under the wide, blue sky.
“You’re my little sister,” he whispers when her hand catches around his fingers and she holds on so tightly like she already knows how much love he holds for her by her second breath. “And I’m your big brother,” the title is clumsy on his lips, still unfamiliar with what it means to be the older sibling, to shoulder the expectations of devoting every second of his life to protecting her.
By her third breath, Ayato has finally come back to life—his clock begins ticking the moment she opens her eyes and the world doesn’t seem so big and scary anymore.
He’s in disbelief, how something so beautiful could be introduced into his life without him having done anything to earn it. He’s smiling until his cheeks hurt and his chest aches from his laughter, holding on tight to her small hands, bewildered at how they seem to fit perfectly in his palms. Unable to comprehend how something so wonderful can just be handed to him when he still hasn’t made his mark in this world, hasn’t yet found out how to give her the world.
But he’ll learn, and he’ll carve out a piece of the sky and give it to her. He’d bring her the stars and gift her the radiance of the sun and the moon. Home is when he holds her close, her blue eyes mirroring the image of the brilliant blue sea on the other side of the window. She is his little sister and there is only one of her in this infinite galaxy—and so he will give her all of him, down to every last speck of stardust, making the one promise he will never know how to break.
Even when they fight over the last piece of cake, or if her tiny fingers yank at his hair to get him to stay when their father steals him away for his lessons.
Even when she gets lost in the lights of the festival and scares him half to death, or if her fists land heavy blows onto his chest when he shields her from the grief of losing their mother. No matter if she makes a face he’s only ever seen himself wear in the mirror, the distorted expression of disgust at himself reflected back at him on his sister’s face. He never once needed to be loved in return.
Even when she won’t speak to him when only the two of them are left and he wonders if he’s doing this right—if he was ever doing ‘it’ right. He is not as gentle and loving as their mother, he will never be as strong and proud as his father. He can never be the source or reason for his little sister’s happiness, but he can still try to be its protector.
And even when she grows up, much faster than she should have, too quick for Ayato’s eyes to see while he chooses to repay his debt to their mother and father over to the stranger in the room across the hall. But this was her choice to make—this was a choice she got to make, and it’s all the evidence her brother needs to believe he has finally made this world a little kinder, perhaps a little less unknown, maybe even a little bit more fit for his sister.
He is nothing more than a no-good older brother, making promises he knows he can’t keep just to have a few more words to say to his little sister other than “good morning,” or “goodbye,” something that isn’t “I won’t be coming home tonight.” Again? And again, watching the beautiful parts of his sister die in order to keep her alive. Her smile creates a boundary he can’t ever cross, terrified that he’d be the reason it disappears if he gets too close.
He has always been the selfish one between the two of them, taking the last bite of pie for dessert and letting his sister mourn her loss alone while he pushes his tears away to fulfill his childhood dream. He will change himself to be the cruel and ruthless one between the two of them, called heartless and made into a monster as he lunges for an illusory throne before the grief can take hold. He never once wanted to be loved in return.
He is no longer the hero she once believed he could be, lost in carrying out the duties of commissioner first and big brother second because he has lost the right to call himself family.
He’d earn it back by giving her the world. He’d earn it back when he learns to be her big brother again—to find his way back to that seven year old boy watching his little sister take her first breath again.