The morning light filtered through the curtains of Takemi's room. On one side hung recent pictures of her with friends—laughing faces captured in moments of teenage life. On the other side, older photographs told a different story: family portraits where she stood close to her brother Kaito, their bond evident in shared smiles and comfortable proximity. Those images seemed to belong to a different lifetime.

Takemi made her way downstairs, the familiar sounds of morning routine greeting her as she entered the kitchen. The aroma of miso soup and grilled fish filled the air, while her father sat at the table absorbed in his newspaper.

"Good morning, Mom,Dad!" she called out, her voice carrying the practiced cheerfulness of daily ritual.

"Good morning, Takemi!" her father replied, glancing up from his paper. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, Father."

She moved into the kitchen where her mother was putting the finishing touches on breakfast, steam rising from the rice cooker as dishes were being arranged.

"Is everything ready? I'll help with whatever's left," Takemi offered, rolling up her sleeves.

"Thank you, dear," her mother said warmly. "You're always such a help."

Takemi smiled and continued with the morning preparations, the routine bringing a sense of normalcy to her day. On the counter, she noticed the familiar note from her brother—already gone to school, as usual. The brief message was functional, devoid of the warmth their relationship had once held.

Takemi left for school on a solitary walk, yet her spirits remained high. Upon reaching the school grounds, she spotted Kurogane, who lived nearby but no longer walked to school with her as they had when they were younger.

Takemi went with her friends toward their usual gathering spot while Kurogane headed off to meet Haruto and Kazama. She caught a glimpse of their group as they walked in easy synchronization, their conversation animated.

"Yo! Haruto! Kazama!" Kurogane called out as he approached his friends.

"Oh Kurogane, good morning!" Haruto responded with his usual enthusiasm. "How are you doing? By the way, have you guys tried that new game yet?"

"Before we get to that," Kurogane said, suddenly blocking Kazama's path and reaching up to touch his forehead in an exaggerated gesture, "have you noticed something strange around here?"

"Now that you mention it," Haruto joined in, "how did our perpetually late friend manage to arrive on time?"

Kurogane poked at Kazama's side playfully. "How come, how come?"

"Shut up you guys," Kazama said with a slight smirk, "let me breathe."

"'You guys! Let me breathe!'" Kurogane mimicked an exaggerated version of Kazama's voice, sending both him and Haruto into fits of laughter.

The three continued their teasing as they made their way to the classroom.

Once inside, as they settled into their seats and continued their conversation, Haruto picked up where he'd left off.

"So about that game I was mentioning—have you seen the character designs? I'm telling you, it's going to break records."

"Are you talking about... what was the name again?" Kurogane began, but his question was cut short as their teacher entered the classroom.

The familiar rustle of students adjusting themselves and settling into their proper seats filled the room.

"Be seated, everyone. I'll be taking attendance shortly, so please respond promptly," the teacher announced. "I also hope you've all completed your homework."

A collective murmur rose from the students at the mention of homework, causing the teacher's expression to sharpen.

"Quiet!" The classroom fell silent as attendance began.

"Alright, today I'll be asking some questions from our previous lesson. Everyone should be prepared," the teacher continued once the roll call was complete.

As the review session began, Takemi found herself answering most of the questions with quiet confidence. She could feel the attention of her classmates shifting toward her, their expressions ranging from impressed to surprised.

"Bro, did you see that?" Haruto whispered to Kurogane in amazement. "Is she some kind of genius? She's really committed to her studies."

Kurogane chuckled softly. "She's been like this since we were kids."

"How do you know that?"

"We grew up in the same neighborhood, same school section," Kurogane explained in hushed tones. "I've known her for years now. But even for me, she's always been something of a mystery."

Kazama's attention was caught by their conversation, though he kept his expression neutral. "Is that so? That explains some things."

Kurogane turned to him with curiosity. "What do you mean, 'explains some things'?"

"Oh, me?" Kazama acted innocent. "Nothing, just thinking out loud."

Their whispered conversation was interrupted when the teacher's sharp gaze fell upon them.

"If I see you and Haruto disrupting my class again," the teacher warned Kurogane, "you'll both be writing apology letters one hundred times."

"Sorry, Sensei," both Kurogane and Haruto replied in unison, their voices flat with practiced insincerity.

During the break, Takemi found herself surrounded by a small group of students seeking help with difficult problems. Haruto was among them, listening intently as she explained complex concepts with patient clarity.

Meanwhile, behind the classroom, Kurogane and Kazama had joined another group engaged in casual conversation and jokes, their laughter occasionally drifting over to where Takemi worked.

"Tachibana-san," called a student from another section, approaching with official purpose, "could you help deliver some equipment to the other classroom? Sensei requested it be moved there."

Takemi looked up from her tutoring session. "Of course. Let me find someone to help."

"I'll help," offered one of her friends nearby.

As they made their way through the hallways carrying the requested materials, Takemi was surprised to see a familiar figure emerging from their destination classroom.

"Nii-san," she said hesitantly, her voice carrying a mixture of surprise and uncertainty.

"Takemi," Kaito acknowledged with minimal warmth.

She opened her mouth to say more, perhaps to bridge the growing distance between them, but her brother simply walked past without another word. Takemi stood there for several seconds, the missed opportunity for connection leaving her with a familiar hollow feeling.

"Takemi? Are you alright?" her friend asked, noticing her distraction.

"Oh, sorry," Takemi replied with a forced laugh. "Just lost in thought."

They completed their task and returned to class, but the brief encounter lingered in Takemi's mind for the rest of the day.

When the final bell rang, students began the familiar ritual of packing bags and changing shoes.

"I'm home!" Takemi called out as she entered the house, the familiar warmth of home enveloping her.

"Welcome back," her mother replied from the kitchen. "How was school today, dear?"

"It went well. Sensei asked me lots of questions during the review," Takemi said with a small smile.

"I'm sure you answered them all perfectly," her mother said, reaching out to pat her head affectionately. "My brilliant daughter. I made your favorite—katsudon."

Takemi's face lit up with genuine pleasure. "Really? That's perfect, I'm starving."

They sat together at the table, the simple ritual of shared meal bringing comfort after the day's complexities.

"Itadakimasu," they said in unison before beginning to eat.

Later, in her room, Takemi changed into her badminton practice clothes and gathered her equipment. The sport had become both physical outlet and mental escape, a place where she could focus entirely on improvement and competition.

"I'm leaving for badminton practice now," she called to her mother as she headed for the door.

"Be careful," her mother replied.

"I will. I'm off."

"Take care."

The walk to the sports complex gave her time to process the day's events, though her thoughts kept returning to that awkward encounter with her brother. The comfortable distance she maintained from family complications felt increasingly fragile.

At the complex, as she was preparing her equipment, commotion from the adjacent field caught her attention. A young boy had fallen while playing with other children, his cries echoing across the area as he clutched his scraped knee.

Without hesitation, Takemi dropped her racquet and rushed over to help.

"It's alright, calm down," she said gently, helping the boy to a nearby bench. "Where's your coach?"

She pulled out her handkerchief, dampened it with water from her bottle, and carefully cleaned the wound while directing the other children to find their coach. From the first aid kit kept at the facility, she applied antiseptic and a proper bandage.

"There, that should feel better," she said, patting his head as his sobs subsided.

The children waved goodbye as she returned to her own practice, though she had to apologize to her practice partner for the delay.

"Sorry for keeping you waiting."

"Don't worry about it. That was really kind of you."

Their practice session was intense, each rally pushing both players to their limits. The physical exertion helped clear her mind, though questions about her brother and their deteriorating relationship continued to surface between sets.

After practice, the usual courtesy of bowing and thanking each other for the game, Takemi returned home as the evening light began to fade.

"I'm back," she announced, heading straight to her room to tackle the evening's homework.

Her study desk was positioned to catch the natural light from her window, textbooks and notebooks arranged in a systematic way that helped her maintain focus. As she worked through complex problems, her mother quietly entered with dinner, setting it down without disturbing her concentration.

The phone's ring interrupted her calculations.

"Hello, how are you?" Takemi answered, recognizing her friend's number.

"Hello Takemi!" The voice on the other end was tight with worry. "There's a huge problem. I don't know what to do."

"What happened? Are you okay?"

Her friend explained in rushed, panicked words that her elder sister hadn't returned home yet, and with their parents out of town, she was alone and frightened.

Takemi quickly changed clothes, pausing only to eat half of the dinner her mother had brought and leaving a hastily written note: "Sorry for rushing out, but the food was delicious! Thank you!"

She found her mother and explained the situation hurriedly before rushing out into the evening.

Meeting her friend at the agreed location, Takemi took charge of the situation with calm efficiency.

"Are you alright? Which area was she supposed to be in? Any idea where she might have gone?"

"She was coming back from Ginza," her friend replied, anxiety making her voice shake.

They split up to cover more ground, searching the area systematically. After what felt like hours, they found the missing sister sitting by a fountain at the end of a narrow alley, clearly shaken and exhausted.

After calming her down and getting her some water, the full story emerged. She had been harassed by gang members and, in her panic to escape, had dropped her purse containing all her important documents and identification.

"In order to get away from them, I think I dropped my purse somewhere in that area," she explained shakily. "It has everything—my cards, my personal information."

"You stay here with your sister," Takemi told her friend decisively. "I'll go look for it quickly."

She placed a reassuring hand on her friend's shoulder. "Don't worry. I'll be in and out before you know it."

"Take care, Takemi."

Using her powers to create a subtle camouflaging force field around herself, Takemi made her way back into the area where the incident had occurred. What she discovered there would haunt her for days to come.

Shirai Takeru was there, but he wasn't arresting the gang members as she would have expected. Instead, he was helping them to their feet, and she watched in growing horror as he systematically destroyed evidence—including the purse they had come to retrieve.

That's Shirai Takeru, she thought, her hand instinctively covering her mouth as she crouched in her hiding spot. But why is he...

The walk home felt endless, her mind struggling to process what she had witnessed. The hero she had once looked up to, was somehow connected to the very criminals she had assumed he fought against.

When she finally reached home, her parents' anger was immediate and intense. Her phone showed ten missed calls, explaining their panic and fury.

"I'm sorry," she said, bowing her head as she stood before them. From another room, she could see Kaito watching the scene unfold. "It won't ever happen again, I promise."

"We were about to go to the police station to file a missing person report," her father said, his voice tight with the fear he had experienced.

"I'm sorry, Dad," she repeated, the weight of the evening's revelations making the apology feel inadequate.

In her room finally, with the door closed and moonlight streaming through her open window, Takemi sat at her desk where her homework still waited, abandoned hours earlier. Sleep seemed impossible after everything she had seen.

Her eyes fell on one of the photographs on her wall—a ten-year-old version of herself standing proudly next to a twenty-year-old Takeru, both of them holding a trophy from some long-ago competition. The image, once a source of pride and inspiration, now felt like evidence of her own naivety.

Why? The question emerged as both whisper and sob, tears finally coming as the full impact of her shattered illusions settled over her.

The hero she had admired, the standard by which she had measured courage and justice, was something else entirely. And she was the only one who knew the truth. For now.