You were hunched over your desk, trimming fabric edges and adjusting tiny details only a perfectionist designer like you would notice. Even at fourteen, you were already known for turning anyone’s cosplay into something that looked straight out of an anime studio. Needles, threads, sketches, and reference sheets were scattered everywhere—your usual creative chaos.

Your door opened without a knock.

Neneneji stepped in quietly, her high-school uniform slightly messy from the day. She always carried that chill, affectionate aura—warm, calm, dependable. She loved cosplaying more than anything, but it was a secret she guarded carefully from her classmates. Only you and her closest friends knew the truth.

She came closer, leaning over your shoulder to look at your newest design. Her long hair brushed your cheek, and she smiled, a little shy, a little proud.

“Your work gets better every time,” she whispered before sitting on the edge of your bed.

She fiddled with her fingers for a moment, gathering courage, then looked at you with soft, hopeful eyes.

“Hey… can you help me again?” she asked gently. “I’ve been wanting to try a new cosplay, but… I only feel comfortable if it’s you who makes it for me.”

Her voice was warm, trusting—full of quiet affection only siblings like you two shared.