My Ex-Girlfriend’s Sister Ran Away to My Room, and We Can’t Stop Making Mistakes. - Chapter 13: It’s Nothing.

It’s Nothing.

As we left the clothing store and returned to the main street, Mii gripped my hand, looking apologetic. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice heavy with regret.

“For saying those weird things. I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. Let’s just get some food. Is there anything specific you want?”

“I want donuts.”

“You got it.”

“I just… I got a little shaken up. I’m really sorry.”

She let out a weary sigh. We turned back toward the station, retracing the path we had come.

“Do you hate school?” I asked.

“I hate it. Because I have to be around people who make me feel like I’m suffocating just by being near them.”

She added vacantly, “I don’t have any friends there, anyway.”

“It feels like I can’t breathe. Like I’m going to forget how to do it entirely.”

“I think I understand that feeling.”

“That’s why I’d rather be outside. This city might smell, but at least I’m free to breathe here.”

She narrowed her eyes as she spoke. Our reflections appeared in a nearby shop window.

My eyes met Mii’s in the glass. Having changed out of her uniform, she looked as though she had grown a little taller. She gave a small, fleeting smile and looked up at me.

“Hey. Where do people in Tokyo go to kiss?”

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never done it… but people don’t really do it out in the streets much. Where did that come from, anyway? So sudden.”

“I want to kiss you, Saki-nii.”

She pressed her body closer to mine.

“Because today, you’re so cool and kind.”

“You’re imagining things.”

“No, I’m not. I’m glad I ran away after all.”

Mii’s expression softened, and she walked with a slow, relaxed gait. In this moment, she looked more cheerful than usual—she looked her age.

Thinking about it that way made me realize that the sex we had every night was, after all, a mistake. We could be together without doing things like that.

We didn’t have to dwell on the things we were trying to escape. Just walking like this, holding hands, felt like a much more “correct” version of our relationship.

“Saki-nii, the light is green.”

She pulled on my hand.

As we started to cross, the wail of a siren drifted in from the distance. Looking over, I saw a patrol car with its red lights flashing, attempting to enter the intersection. The wave of pedestrians came to a halt, and we were squeezed by the crowd pressing in from the front and back.

The patrol car made a slow right turn.

As the red lights faded into the distance, the crowd began to surge forward once more.

I tried to lead her by the arm to start walking, but there was no resistance—no weight behind the gesture.

“Mii?”

I turned around. She was standing frozen just behind me, speechless.

“What’s wrong?”

Her eyes were out of focus, flickering with an unstable, wavering light. They were wide open, without so much as a blink.

A young man walking behind her shoved past, knocking her aside.

“Ah—!”

Mii let out a startled cry and crumpled to her knees in the middle of the road.

“Hey!”

The man who had pushed her clicked his tongue loudly and kept walking without looking back.

I rushed to Mii’s side. She was on all fours on the asphalt, her breath coming in shallow, ragged hitches.

“Mii, what happened?”

“I-I’m okay.”

Despite her words, she seemed unable to stand. She sat back on the ground, looking like a marionette with its strings cut.

“It’s no problem. I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine. You’re shaking.”

“I really am… totally fine.”

I reached out to support her. When she took my hand and looked up at me, I saw the tears streaming down her face.

“Why…?”

With a sharp gasp, Mii quickly hid her face.

“Sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize. Are you really okay?”

“It’s nothing.”

I held her hand and rubbed her trembling back.

Her hand was startlingly cold. Its chill made me think of a corpse lying in a casket. I tried to help her up, but her body felt heavy, as if she were pinned to the ground.

Our shadows stretched long and dark at our feet. Her knees were knocking together uncontrollably.

“I can’t stand up.”

The trembling wouldn’t stop.

“But why?”

“It’s nothing.”

“It clearly isn’t.”

“I just… I remembered. About my dad.”

She forced a strained, cramped smile. Only then did I realize what had triggered this.

Mii was only in elementary school when their father passed away.

“The patrol car? Just now?”

“Sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?”

“I’m so sorry.”

The words spilled out of her as she looked down again.

“Mii.”

Her hyperventilation was getting worse. She crouched there, practically glued to the pavement. She exhaled in jagged bursts, tears dripping steadily onto the ground.

Dozens of people hurried past us. From somewhere nearby, I heard the click of a camera shutter. Someone was holding up a smartphone, filming us.

“Knock it off!”

I barked the words, and the people immediately backed away.

From a distance, several pairs of eyes watched us with silent, voyeuristic curiosity as we knelt in the crosswalk.

It felt as though we had turned into monsters—something no longer human.