I'm Being Threatened by My Sister's Ex-girlfriend. (GL) - Chapter 8

It was a night of heavy, sudden rain.

I threw on my light blue knit hoodie and spoke into the condenser microphone mounted on the low table.

“Wait. Are you all Serious? Do you really want to see this?”

‘Yes, we do.’

‘Totally, totally!’

“I feel like it’s just going to end in disaster…”

As I skimmed through the comments, I rested my cheek on my hand with the sleeves of my hoodie hanging down. A tip came through. Why?

The topic was cosplay.

‘Cosplay sounds fun.’

‘What kind of cosplay are you doing?’

“I never said I was going to do it, though. Not even once.”

It was a topic that came up during a casual chat stream. A mobile game I occasionally mentioned had gotten an anime adaptation, and the conversation turned to that. In the comments, names of characters from Spiral-Destiny-Record, a popular anthropomorphic girl-training game, were scrolling by.

Cosplay, huh. As a stream idea, it might not be bad. But it would definitely cost a fair bit. I don’t have any skills in sewing or crafting. So, I’d have to substitute money for those skills.

‘Jumping straight into an SDR cosplay is a bit much. What about the props?’

‘You can get a maid outfit at Village Vanguard.’

‘I wanna see a maid outfit.’

‘We’re in the Reiwa era, though.’

‘Personally, I’d love to see a school uniform. Like, from high school.’

“Uh, school uniform? That’d be too risky. Someone could recognize me.”

‘Yeah, that makes sense.’

The excitement was just the right level—nothing forced, no high expectations. This felt just like being in a warm bath, soaking up that blissful, carefree feeling that starts from your stomach.

To the people on the other side of the screen, I was just “nekuneku@.” Here, I didn’t need to be Ichika Shinonome’s little sister. If it helped me maintain this place, I’d consider doing cosplay. Maybe.

Still, the issue of money couldn’t be ignored. I decided to end the conversation at a good point and move on to the next topic.

‘So, will you cosplay next time?’

What is this person even saying?

When I came back from the shower, I saw a message on my phone. The sender was “Hakobe.” I stared at the already-read conversation thread, unsure of how to respond.

Wait, does she watch every one of my streams?

As I pondered, another message popped up.

‘I’ll provide the costume.’

What should I do?

If I were asked whether I felt any resistance, I couldn’t say I did. If someone asked to see it, sure, I’d probably show them. It just depended on the outfit, though.

‘I’m fine with it, but… why?’

‘Just for my personal enjoyment.’

That was the most unsettling answer. What does that even mean? What for? How? It’s kind of scary.

‘I won’t be wearing anything lewd, don’t worry.’

A cute, mysterious creature sticker came in, shaking its head as if to say, “Oh, please.” The tone was so annoyingly smug.

I tossed my phone onto the bed and threw myself down beside it.

Right after, a cheerful notification sound rang. Is there more? I thought, checking the screen.

But no, it wasn’t from Hakobe.

The sender’s icon was no longer a white flower, but the indigo blue of a night sky—vivid and deep.

It was the icon of my twin sister, Ichika, and it hadn’t changed since high school.

Outside the window, the rain beat against the glass, and faint thunder rumbled in the distance.

For a brief moment, I hesitated to mark the message as “read.” I closed my eyes.

Exhaling, I tapped the icon and quickly skimmed through the message.

It wasn’t anything big. She was planning a short trip with her roommate soon and wanted to know if I had any souvenir requests. The destination was Kanazawa City in Ishikawa Prefecture. A simple, everyday message.

“Sweet or Salty, Which Do You Prefer?”

When I hear “Kanazawa,” nothing comes to mind. It’s in Hokuriku, right? A quick search online shows images of traditional sweets, gold leaf, and “nodoguro” (a type of fish).

If it’s something sweet, it’s probably going to be wagashi (Japanese sweets). For something salty, maybe dried fish?

“Either is fine.”

“That’s the most troublesome answer.”

“Then, I’ll go with something sweet.”

“Okay, got it.”

Suddenly, a wicked thought crossed my mind. What would happen if I spilled the beans about Hakobe in this chat room? How would Ichika react to her ex’s strange behavior?

Anyone with normal sensibilities would probably show disgust. They’d react to Hakobe’s obsession—or perhaps to the fact that I accepted it.

But imagining Ichika’s reaction, I ended the pointless line of thought. Either way, I had no intention of discussing Hakobe with my sister. So, this assumption was meaningless.

I absentmindedly looked at the chat room.

A roommate trip, huh?

“Roommate.” I hadn’t thought much about it until now, but that word suddenly felt significant.

Ichika had been planning to share a room since before graduation.

Her roommate was a high school classmate, and being two girls, there was nothing to worry about. Since they’d save on rent, she’d only need a minimal allowance from our parents. She’d already talked to them and got their approval.

Of course, it could just be that they were really just roommates.

But… what if Ichika is living with someone she chose as a replacement for Hakobe?

Ichika, of all people, picking just one person? I wondered what kind of person that might be.

I thought about that for a moment.

†

Standing in front of the convenience store shelf, my finger hovered uncertainly.

Tea bags or drip coffee? I felt stupid for thinking about it. Why should I care what she prefers?

In the end, I grabbed a 2-liter bottle of barley tea. I thought about just drinking the warm tap water, but stopped myself. The only other liquid I had at home was some Japanese sake from Hayasegawa. It was hopeless.

I also bought some snacks—rice crackers dusted with a powder that seemed like it could make me happy, and a bulk pack of individually wrapped chocolates. Total: 652 yen.

“I don’t need a bag.”

I packed everything into a vinyl bag I had brought from home, silently questioning if I even owed her this much.

There was no answer.

When I stepped out of the convenience store, the white sunlight of July scorched my eyes. My oversized T-shirt clung to my skin. I wasn’t sure if the chocolate would even make it home intact.

I checked the time on my phone while walking. It was almost eleven.

I wiped the sweat dripping from my chin with my thumb and cursed the sun in my head. Seriously, sun? How do you think August will be, if this is how it feels now?

I walked across the heat waves and finally reached my apartment. The old, worn stairs creaked underfoot. Kang, kang, kang. The third floor felt like a distant heaven on this hot summer day.

But today, for some reason, my feet felt lighter. It almost felt like my shoes were bouncing as I walked.

What’s this? Am I… excited?

Am I looking forward to my first cosplay?

Or maybe—

What a fool.

As I reached the top of the rusty stairs, my phone rang. It wasn’t a message; it was an incoming call. A free LINE call.

The icon for the caller was a white flower.

“Hello?”

“I’m downstairs, downstairs.”

Leaning against the handrail, I looked down at the sidewalk.

Hakobe, carrying a Boston bag and holding a parasol, was looking up at me.