"Shiina, brace yourself!"
I barely sidestepped in time to dodge the swift kick aimed for my head. Her leg skimmed the fabric of my shirt before rounding back. She then lowered her foot onto the laminate floor.
"Impossible! Shiina saw through Mao's third eye!"
Letting out a loud breath, I placed my backpack on my bed, scrummaging through it. "Actually," I said, "if you're going to sneak attack me, maybe don't shout like a madwoman before you do? It could help for next time—"
"Take Mao's wicked fist, you fiend!"
Mao delivered a series of punches to my back. They weren't heavy enough to recoil from pain. In fact, they were ticklish.
I scrubbed my hand over my face. "Again, this pointless shouting isn't helping."
Mao wasn't listening. Sliding left and right, she delivered blows to my thighs, hips, and abdomen. On top of her plaid sailor uniform, the exaggerated red cape draping her shoulders as well as the pointed hat accentuating her short brown hair weren't novel. Even her bizarre eyepatch was something I easily disregarded.
My younger sister, Mao, was peculiar. She had a terrible case of chūnibyō, aka eighth-grader syndrome. Meaning, she was deeply burrowed in her delusions of grandeur.
What I knew about eighth-grader syndrome was limited. There were three types, stretching from concocting mild tall tales to imitating celebrities or fictional characters or even believing you had fantastical powers. Mao definitely underwent the last category. She used to be reserved and soft-spoken—kept to herself whenever possible—but ever since she hit middle school, she changed drastically. Until here we were now, with her yelling out spells and incantations left and right, and attacking me spontaneously. She once replaced our shampoo with hair dye, excusing it was the work of her mortal enemy.
It was exhausting, sure. Passersby gave her frazzled looks and mockery at every turn. But this change had its perks as well. A girl who never used to smile now smiled all the time. She had fun at every turn. And hey, as her older sister, if it meant putting up with her shenanigans here and there, and a little third person speech pattern, I think I'd manage.
"Shiina is strong," Mao panted, raising her forearms in guard. "Is it because of the backpack? What is Shiina bringing to the battlefield today?"
I slung my bag over my shoulder. "Sneakers, my track suit, and some hair ties. I have PE first period and we're playing volleyball. The guys are pretty hardcore so I have to put forth my best game."
"Guys?"
"Since the girls think it's unfair that I'm too tall, I usually have to play the guys."
My tone must come out more melancholic than I intend to because Mao dropped her arms. Her one eye I could see flitted elsewhere. Her lips curled downwards. "Does. . . Shiina not mind?"
"Shiina didn't have a say in this. Sports are sports at the end of the day. As long as I slap the ball a while they shouldn't make fun of me more than they usually do."
Mao pouted. "Shiina is making a sad face. Shiina doesn't fit in at school either?"
I cracked a hopeless smile. "I keep telling you you'd fit right in if you stopped acting like a pretend witch."
"This isn't pretend. Mao truly is the last surviving member of the Tenn witch bloodline. But Mao's school is tainted by Mao's nemesis, the goddess of the netherworld. When Mao finally defeats her, she'll make tons of allies. It's only a matter of time."
I guess Mao struggled to find a place of belonging, too. But she wasn't losing heart. I couldn't complain all the time either, huh?
Right as the thought flourished, she extended something for me. "For Shiina."
Albeit puzzled, I opened my palms. She dropped it inside. My jaw plummeted in astonishment. "This is. . . your favourite bracelet. Why?"
"A charm for victory," Mao responded as if it was obvious. A broad grin stretched to her ears. "Mao's never lost a single battle wearing it. With it, Shiina won't either. Go win. Mao believes in you."
My heart melted tremendously. She never took this off. It protected her from her enemies, apparently.
This wasn't the first time Mao's cheered me on. But this definitely made my morning a hundred times better. Bringing her into a sideways hug, I laughed heartily and thanked her.
So what if I didn't have friends? So what if I got ridiculed on a daily basis? My sister and dad—Rin-Rin—they were there for me. They believed in me.
No matter what life threw at me today, I definitely wasn't taking it without a fight!
"Mao, are you still here? You have to head to school."
It was as if I'd been doused by a bucket of ice, leaving me rigid right down to my toes.
Mao swerved to address the woman at the door. "Oh. It's the Priestess of Evil."
A light laugh pervaded the room. My features unintentionally hardened as I faced her. She was a stunning sight, even first thing in the morning. Black hair cascading in rivulets over her shoulders and shirt. Full, pink lips. Thin frame and eyes.
Positioning the back of her hand to her sides, she tilted her head. "How many times must I tell you to call me Chie, Mao?"
"'Morning, Priestess of Evil! You're up early."
Realizing she'd never get what she asked for, Chie sighed. "Well, I promised a certain witch's father I'll prepare her lunches every morning." She bent over and handed her a perfectly wrapped lunchbox. "Here's your nutrition for the day."
Mao oohed as she received it. "Does said nutrition contain the Dark Lord's creation?"
"Vegetables? But of course. You need energy to destroy the world, don't you?"
Mao pulled a face. "Thus is the Priestess of Evil. . . Your allegiance to the Dark Lord shows no boundaries." She sidestepped around her. "Magical Witch Mao shall now depart!"
Chie straightened her posture as she watched her dash down the flight of steps. "Have a safe trip!"
I grabbed my coat off the chair of my desk. Chie shifted her focus my way.
"Shi—"
"Have to go. Running late." I speed-walked past her without giving her the chance to finish. "Tell Dad I said hi if you talk to him on the phone."
"What about lunch—"
"Don't need it."
From you, lingered on the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed it back.
Then, I sprinted out the door.
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