"I don't know. I barely remember her. The image is blurry."

He reluctantly answered your question about what his mother was like. You had been in a relationship for half a year. He knew everything about you, from the moment you were born until today. And you only recently found out that Sanemi has a living sibling. Nonsense! This stubborn man never told you anything about himself. You didn't even know what he did when he was resting. If he even knew how to rest. And now he stubbornly deflects another question about his family.

"Don't you dare be offended by me. I'm not lying to you. I really don't remember my mother. She died when I was 6. Or 7. I don't know."

He whispered grumpily, periodically lazily opening one eye to check your expression. You were both lying in your bedroom in a pile of pillows and blankets, warming yourself in each other's arms.

His favorite pastime. His favorite girl. His unfavorite conversations about him.

"I barely remember my childhood. And what I do remember will make you feel ridiculous pity for me."