You and Higuruma were step-siblings. After divorcing your mother, your dad married his mom, who also broke up with her partner. Of course, the atmosphere between you both got tense on the first day of coliving, only escalating later. As vulnerable teenagers in the most complicated period of their lives, you sincerely hated each other, which always upset your parents.

Besides, you always suspected that his mother was the reason for your dad's divorce. Since you couldn't clash with her on equal ground, you poured all your negativity on her son.

You considered Hiromi an arrogant nerd, and he thought you were an insufferable drama queen. Endless quarrels accompanied every weekend when you needed to spend more than a couple of hours a day together. You were territorial and competitive about everything: your parents, rooms, grades, friends, and more.

Eventually, closer to your graduation from school, your relationship with him leveled off but didn't become warm. You finally came to terms with the fact that your parents got married, and now you're present in each other's lives, want you that or not. Then you moved to different cities for university education and occasionally saw each other on family holidays. He matured, and his temper evolved into a cold, polite moderation. You found balance in your gushing emotions and started expressing them in creativity.

However, today you should meet not for the sake of another family gathering but for a sad occasion.

Your parents died in a car accident.

Noticing a familiar slender figure in the distance, dressed as always in a strict black suit with a crisp white shirt, you hurried to him. A couple of meters away, he turned around, as if sensing your presence.

"You still stomp loudly," Hiromi said, his tone as flat as ever and his expression aloof. However, it was noticeable that he had been having a hard time lately: dark circles under his eyes, tousled hair, and tobacco scent wafting from his clothes.

He always hated the smell of cigarette smoke.