Ch. 1 - The Hoshikawa Siblings

Bang, bang, bang!

“Hey! Wake up already! Harutaki! Hoshikawa Harutaki!”

The girl’s voice pierced through the door into the pitch-black bedroom, crisp and clear like a songbird outside the window at dawn. But unlike the pleasant chirping of a warbler, her words carried a growing edge of irritation—like a glass bottle steadily filled to the brim, ready to spill over with impatience at any moment.

Thud, thud, thud!

Her fists struck harder, rattling the thin wooden door so violently that it seemed about to give way. One couldn’t help but wonder if the girl outside was trying to wake someone up or collect a debt.

“Mmmgh…”

“Ha—ru—ta—ki!”

Her volume spiked another notch.

“You stupid Aniki! Today’s the day we have to report to school—how long are you planning to sleep in?!”

“Haa…”

Maybe it was her shouting, or maybe it was the word “late” wedged in there, but the so-called “stupid Aniki” finally stirred, crawling out of his deathlike slumber—the kind that reminded him of an overworked corporate drone who’d pulled three straight nights of overtime.

“Hss… sorry, Ayaka…”

Drawing a long breath, Harutaki replied to the girl outside the door, his tone weary but apologetic, “I’ll be right down… and, thanks for waking me.”

“Tch. If I wasn’t worried about Mom and Dad getting upset, I wouldn’t waste my time on you, you pervy siscon freak!”

Accompanied by Hoshikawa Ayaka’s suddenly sharper, slightly higher-pitched voice, a series of muffled “thump thump thump” sounds came from outside the door. It was clear she had turned and run downstairs immediately after speaking.

Her over-the-top reaction didn’t surprise Harutaki in the least.

After all, what little sister would want to get close once she’d discovered her brother’s room plastered with posters of anime little sisters, shelves of sister-themed merch, and a hard drive full of siscon games?

Their parents worked overseas, leaving Harutaki to live under the same roof with his three younger sisters. And yet, their so-called older brother was a hopeless otaku obsessed with “imouto” characters.

The fact that she even bothered to wake him up was a miracle in itself.

Pulling back the curtains, Harutaki let the morning sunlight spill into the room. As he slipped into his shirt, he couldn’t help but think bitterly, When it rains, it pours.

Because Hoshikawa Harutaki… was a transmigrator.

To most people, a second life would sound like a dream. And waking up in none other than the “homeland of anime,” with the perfect protagonist setup: busy parents abroad, three little sisters, and a nice house. It was almost too cliché.

But Harutaki himself couldn’t find it in him to celebrate.

Back in his original world, he’d clawed his way past university entrance exams, even gotten into grad school. He wasn’t exactly rich, but he had a stable, comfortable life ahead of him; his parents’ company was waiting for him, his future was laid out, free to chase whatever he wanted.

Decades of effort… erased overnight. What was the point of this “second life”?

Granted, this new family wasn’t doing badly either. A standalone house in Tokyo’s Minato Ward wasn’t exactly cheap. His new parents clearly earned more than enough.

But still…

He stopped in front of the mirror and studied the unfamiliar face that stared back. A sigh slipped past his lips.

At roughly 185 centimeters, his height was impressive by Japanese standards. But the slight forward slump from years hunched over a keyboard, and the poor posture born of bad habits, made it look less like an asset and more like a flaw.

And his hair… Dark purple strands hung greasy and clumped, drooping over his eyebrows and ears like wet seaweed stuck to his skull.

The image made him think of a certain infamous character—a clownish wannabe villain from an anime. Yeah, that guy had a sister too, and absentee parents. Figures.

(TL: Referencing Mato Shinji from FSN)

At least the raw “stats” weren’t bad.

Beneath the mess of purple hair, his facial features were sharp, even handsome. With a haircut and a bit of grooming, he might even outdo his old self. His body wasn’t bad either; muscle definition lined his torso. Though oddly enough, even with that, he still felt strangely weak and drained.

And honestly, after the “incident” two mornings ago when Ayaka had stepped on something she really shouldn’t have while barging into his room, Harutaki had assumed she’d never speak to him again—let alone bother waking him up again today.

It's not my fault, though…

He muttered the excuse in his head as he brushed his teeth. It wasn’t like he could help what happened to any guy waking up in the morning. Blame biology, not him.

…

“…Morning, Ayaka.”

Fresh from the shower, hair finally washed, Harutaki sat at the dining table and picked up a slightly burnt slice of toast. He greeted his sister, who was sipping from a glass of milk nearby.

“Don’t talk to me like we’re close. Gross.”

Her cherry-pink twintails swished as she turned her face sharply to the side, glaring with her sea-blue eyes. Her voice was crisp, her expression cute—and merciless.

“You think a quick rinse makes you any less of a sewer rat? Dream on, dumbass Aniki.”

Harutaki took the insults in stride.

After all, she wasn’t scolding him, not really. She was scolding the “old Harutaki.”

And when the one doing the scolding was his own adorable little sister, with that face and that figure… well, who was he to complain? Most people judged with their eyes, and Harutaki was no exception. Some even had a thing for being insulted by pretty girls. Not his kink, but he could see why.

If anything, the way Ayaka so quickly picked apart his appearance meant she was paying closer attention to him than she let on.

Watching the cherry-pink strands of her long hair sway as she tidied up in the open kitchen made his plain breakfast of toast, egg, and cold milk taste almost luxurious.

Sure, Harutaki had dated girls before. But none of them came close to Ayaka—neither in looks nor figure.

If he had to describe her body in a nutshell… well, she was the kind of girl who’d easily get stuck in a washing machine, calling out for her brother to help.

And as for her face…

Even yesterday, when she’d been chewing him out to his face, her water-blue eyes had glared wide, the tip of her little pink nose twitching, the sharp glint of a tiny fang flashing as she bared her teeth.

A girl’s cuteness has never been as simple as 1 + 1 + 1 = 3—it’s always 1 + 1 + 1 > 3.

Enough to sweep away his irritation in an instant.

Hoshikawa Ayaka

Glug.

He downed a gulp of cold milk, the creamy richness spreading over his tongue. He’d tried the different cartons stocked in the fridge and settled on the one with the highest fat content: Hokkaido’s Yotsuba milk. Thick, full-bodied, but never cloying.

“Are Fuyuno and Chiaki already gone?”

Harutaki set his empty glass down and tried to strike up a conversation, hoping to bridge the distance bit by bit.

From what he’d gleaned from skimming the old Harutaki’s memories, opportunities to talk normally with Ayaka were few and far between.

The Hoshikawa siblings were four in total:

Hoshikawa Harutaki, the eldest, a second-year at Nichiya High School.

The eldest daughter, Hoshikawa Ayaka, a first-year at St. Lilium Girls’ Academy high school division.

The second daughter, Hoshikawa Chiaki, Ayaka’s twin sister, in the same school.

The youngest daughter, Hoshikawa Fuyuno, a student in the middle school division at St. Lilium, set to join her sisters in high school.

Purple hair, pink hair, black hair, blonde hair; if their parents kept going, they might just field a whole rainbow basketball team someday.

Still, he could understand why things had grown awkward between them.

Watching Ayaka’s delicate face as she washed dishes with meticulous care, Harutaki suspected the old Harutaki hadn’t ignored his sisters. More likely, his feelings for them had twisted into something else, and combined with his lack of social sense, it had left their sibling bonds completely frozen.

Playing siscon games in front of your actual sisters and trying to “recommend” them those games… yeah, no wonder things hit rock bottom.

“You think they’re as careless as you?” Ayaka sneered.

“Today’s the first day of term. Or what, are you planning to make your grand impression as the late bottom-tier loner?”

“…Yeah, that’s one impression I’d rather not make.”

Carrying his empty plate and glass to the sink, Harutaki chuckled, trading banter with her while he could.

…

“Hey, Ayaka… what do you think of me now?”

After tidying up his dishes in a hurry, Harutaki slung his bag over his shoulder and walked over to where Ayaka was fixing the wrinkles in her uniform. He squeezed into the mirror’s view beside her, adjusting the knot of his tie.

The moment Harutaki’s voice came from so close, Ayaka shuffled two full steps away, far enough to sting a little.

She gave her idiot brother a quick once-over, and for some reason, something about him felt… off. Strange, even. Normally, the instant she spoke up, he’d scurry back into his room and hide like a cornered mouse.

“…So what, you just look a little cleaner than usual… wait a sec. Whose hair gel did you use?”

Her eyes narrowed, finally locking onto the crown of his head.

Harutaki had tried to tame his overgrown bangs so he wouldn’t look quite so sloppy, digging up a bottle of gel from the bathroom and flattening everything down.

Yeah, it looked a little tacky. But it was better than “unkempt gremlin.”

“Uh, the blue bottle, I thi—ow!”

Before he could finish, Ayaka stomped down on the top of his foot with righteous fury.

“Who said you could touch a girl’s cosmetics, stupid Aniki?”

She probably hadn’t even put much force into it, since it didn’t hurt at all. Still, Harutaki winced dramatically, playing along rather than risk angering her further.

“And another thing…”

Ayaka hesitated for a moment before speaking again.

“If you really want to turn human, hair gel alone isn’t gonna cut it.”

“…Wait, so in your eyes, I wasn’t even considered human before this?!”

“Wow, my dumb brother actually has a shred of self-awareness.” She smirked. “Even lab mice manage to contribute to medical science. To make sure you don’t lose to a rodent, I’ll personally sign off as your next of kin on the organ donation form.”

“Hey, do me a favor and at least hesitate a little before you sign. That way, maybe my poor soul can rest easier.”

Slipping her small feet into her school shoes, Ayaka nudged the toes against the floor to adjust, then pulled open the front door. 

Just before closing it behind her, she froze for a beat and tossed out a parting shot without turning back, “Don’t you dare touch my or Chiaki’s makeup again. But… if you’re short on cash for buying your own, I guess I could lend you some.”

“Thanks for the offer, Ayaka, but no thanks. What kind of big brother borrows money from his little sister?” Harutaki waved her off lightly.

Joking aside, even asking his parents for extra allowance money would’ve felt embarrassing, let alone hitting up a younger sibling.

Not that the Hoshikawa family was strapped for cash, anyway. The kids’ allowances were more than enough to cover some self-care products. Besides, judging from his (or rather, the old Harutaki’s) room stacked full of merch and otaku games, it was obvious he wasn’t hurting for money; if anything, he was loaded.

…

Loaded Hoshikawa-kun now marched briskly down the school route, his slightly yellowed old Converse squeaking against the pavement.

Since his three sisters attended St. Lilium Girls’ Academy—a private girls’ school way out past Minato Ward—they had to take the train every morning.

Harutaki, meanwhile, only had to walk about fifteen minutes to get to Nichiya High, conveniently located right in Minato.

Of course, his choice of school hadn’t just been about convenience.

With a deviation score of 72, Nichiya High ranked among the top of Tokyo’s already competitive schools.

The streets of Minato were quiet in the morning, his sneakers tapping against the asphalt. With every step, cherry blossom petals drifted down in gentle pink flurries, the fleeting five-centimeter-per-second snowfall of spring.

Following a secluded road that ran alongside a narrow stream, the number of students in Nichiya uniforms gradually increased.

Crisp blazers, fresh white dress shirts, pleated skirts to the knee, and neatly pressed slacks—the boys and girls walked in pairs or trios, chattering about vacation as they passed through the gates.

Returning to a high school campus after six whole years, Harutaki couldn’t help but feel a little jealous of the youthful energy around him. Unlike them, he didn’t swat away the petals in annoyance or rush to blend into the crowd. Instead, he moved at his own pace, walking in with them.

Plucking a stray petal from his hair, he drew in a deep breath. The faint fragrance of cherry blossoms—fresh and fleeting, the very scent of spring—filled his lungs. If I can’t refuse it, I might as well enjoy this new life…

With that thought, Harutaki tugged on the strap of his faded Nike backpack and stepped through the school gates, his shoes crunching over a carpet of pink petals.

…

Since it was the start of his second year, everyone had been reshuffled into new classes after splitting into humanities and sciences tracks. No one knew what class they’d landed in yet.

So, Harutaki made his way to the announcement board by the entrance.

Luckily, he hadn’t arrived early. Most of the students who crowded there were fresh-faced first-years waiting for their opening ceremony, leaving the second-year list relatively clear.

[2nd Year Class 2]

[2nd Year Class 1]

[2nd Year Class 3]

Finding his name under Class 3, Harutaki didn’t bother looking at Classes 4 or 5.

Not like it had anything to do with him.

He’d already checked through the old Harutaki’s phone, hoping for clues about his social life, but what he found was… bleak.

His LINE friend list had three people.

Yeah. Ayaka, Chiaki, and Fuyuno.

His contacts list wasn’t much better—five entries total.

Three were the sisters again, the other two…

Mom and Dad.

Pathetic.

Harutaki had heard stories like this online, but seeing his own reality laid bare was enough to make him nearly crack.

Compared to the sea of unfamiliar names in the other class rosters, a few from Class 3 did stir some faint memories.

Take Nogami Izumi, for example. The mere name stirred an odd sense of dread in his chest.

And Tazaki Akihisa—that was one of Harutaki’s old otaku buddies. They’d even lined up together in Akihabara once for a game’s midnight release.

As for the rest?

Seemed like Tazaki was the only one he’d ever talked to. Being an introverted nerd in a high-achieving school didn’t exactly make for easy friendships.

“Bottom-tier loner, huh…”

Harutaki muttered with a wry smile.

But just as he reached the shoe lockers in the entrance hall to swap into his indoor shoes—

A semi-transparent black dialogue box suddenly appeared before his eyes.

(TL: Seeing the names, I guess maybe some readers should already find some of the names quite familiar. This novel is like a fanfic of sorts, but no worries, there are no NTR or any of that kind of things in this novel.)

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