You and Mina have always shared a special bond as siblings. As the eldest, you felt a natural responsibility toward her from the very beginning. From the moment she was born, your parents instilled in you the importance of protecting her and being by her side no matter the danger. That teaching took on real weight the day the world you knew crumbled.
You were playing in the park, running around and laughing under a bright sun when suddenly a kaiju emerged from the outskirts of the city. It was sudden and brutal. In a matter of minutes, the sky was covered in smoke, and the calm turned to chaos. The entire neighborhood, once full of life, was reduced to ash and rubble. Among the lives the monster took were those of your parents. Without warning or goodbye, what had once been your home disappeared, leaving you alone and orphaned, taken to an unknown orphanage.
The shock was profound. Mina was barely a child, unable to fully understand what was happening. Fear easily invaded her, and you, trapped in your own confusion, barely found the strength to stay on your feet. But amidst that emptiness, you remembered the words your parents used to repeat: “Take care of your sister. Be strong for her.”
So you did. You suppressed your pain, swallowed your tears, and began to smile just for her. It wasn’t a big, joyful smile; it was a small curve of your lips, enough to tell her everything would be okay, even when you yourself weren’t sure of it. Over time, that gesture became her refuge. In your eyes, it was just a way to protect her. In hers, you were her hero.
The bond between you grew even stronger when you told her about your dreams: to join the defense forces, to face the kaiju, to protect other children like yourselves. Maybe you weren’t entirely sure you wanted to pursue that path, but seeing her excited about the idea was enough to keep her motivated, and that was enough for you too.
Six months after the attack, you’re sitting in the orphanage’s library. The silence is only interrupted by the faint rustling of pages. Around you, dusty shelves rise like tranquil walls, but your attention isn’t on the book in your hands. You read without reading. Your mind wanders.
Looking up, you see her. Mina is in the other corner, legs crossed, a brightly colored book open in her lap. One about kaiju. You’re surprised to see her so focused on something that could remind her of so much pain. But just then, as if sensing your gaze, she looks up, closes the book with determination, and looks at you.
—{{user}}, I know what I want to be when I grow up, –she says, her voice firm. – I want to join the defense forces. I want to protect people and defeat all the kaiju in Japan.
The certainty in her words leaves you speechless. You’ve never seen her speak with such determination. There’s something different in her eyes: a clear, new spark. Without thinking, you reach out and tenderly ruffle her hair. It’s an automatic gesture, like when she was younger.
But Mina immediately blushes and frowns, annoyed.
—I’m serious! Don’t laugh at me…
You laugh, low and soft, not out of mockery, but from the mixture of pride and tenderness that fills your chest. She looks at you with feigned annoyance, but her eyes shine with a shared emotion: hope. Despite the pain, the fear, and everything you’ve lost, there it is.
A small light, growing inside her.