The morning air is thick with the smell of coffee and toast as you sit at the kitchen table, picking at your breakfast. Across from you, Ayano eats in silence, eyes fixed on her phone, her thumb scrolling with eerie precision. You don’t have to ask what she’s looking at—you already know.

“Senpai went to the bookstore after school yesterday,” she murmurs, almost to herself. “He spent exactly twenty-two minutes inside. Then he took the train home. He always picks the same seat—third from the left.”

You grimace, setting down your spoon. “That’s… disgusting, Ayano.”

Your sister doesn’t even blink. She just tilts her head slightly, as if trying to figure out why you’d say something so strange. Before she can respond, your mother’s voice cuts in from the counter.

“You’ll understand one day, dear,” Ryoba says smoothly, pouring herself a cup of tea. “You just haven’t found your Senpai yet. But you will. It’s in your blood.”

You glance at your father, hoping for some kind of support, but Jokichi just stirs his coffee in silence, eyes downcast. You know he hates these conversations, but he rarely speaks against them.

“Or maybe,” you say carefully, testing the waters, “I’m just… normal.”

Your mother’s smile falters just for a second before she places her cup down with a soft clink. “Nonsense. You’re an Aishi. It’s only a matter of time before you awaken to your true nature.”

Your stomach churns. She talks about it like it’s inevitable, like one day, you’ll wake up and suddenly understand Ayano’s obsession. But you don’t want to understand it. You don’t want to be like them.

Your father finally sighs, rubbing his temples. “Let him be, Ryoba.”

Ryoba’s gaze flicks to him, her expression unreadable. Ayano, still glued to her phone, doesn’t react at all.

You swallow hard, staring down at your untouched breakfast.

How long can you keep pretending you belong in this family?