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Chapter 1: The Girl Who Pulls The Coffin 

Upon waking, the face of his imouto was right there before him. Her breath was so close it could almost graze his skin.  

“…”  

“…”  

For a moment, the two remained silent, locked in a wordless stare.  

From somewhere far off, the cheerful chirping of small birds drifted in.  

The sunlight streaming through the window was pure white, the air carrying a gentle warmth. Even within the confines of the room, it was clear that the long winter was nearing its end. Grasses were sprouting, and beasts were emerging from their burrows. As the days of renewed prosperity approached, every living thing stirred with anticipation, bustling with the promise of a new season.  

But…  

“Nii-sama. Good morning.”  

His imouto, Akari spoke in a voice barely above a whisper.  

They were both on the bed, the shared space of their slumber.  Yet Akari was above him. She crouched on all fours, her posture reminiscent of a predatory beast poised to pounce pinning its prey, ready to declare, Now, I’ll devour you. Taller than most girls her age, she loomed over him, her back arched, exuding an intensity that could silence any resistance.  

“…”  

Even Toru had to admit that his imouto was beautiful.  

At seventeen, she had already outgrown “cute” in favor of “beautiful,” a description that felt far more fitting. Her features were sharp and defined, carrying an air of quiet dignity. With her long black hair cascading down, she stood in serene stillness, a vision that could grace a painting. Her beauty captivated not only the opposite sex but those of her own as well.  

Yet—her lack of expression was a flaw. Toru often thought Akari lost much because of it, her face rarely betraying her emotions. She, however, seemed utterly unconcerned by this.  

In contrast—  

“…”  

In Akari’s eyes...her sharp, elongated black eyes...the boy’s face reflected an unmistakable expression of irritation.  

His black hair and dark eyes mirrored her own.  

His features, well… one could hardly deny they were well-formed.  

Yet his expression was slack, almost languid.  

It was a look of weariness, of indolence.  

The vigor and vitality one would expect from a teenage boy were utterly absent, stripped away entirely. In their place clung an air of withered dryness, a demeanor that of despite the absence of wrinkles or darkened skin somehow evoked an old man nearing the end of his life. Even accounting for the grogginess of waking, this quality was far too pronounced.  

What a tiresome face I have, Toru thought to himself.  

He thought it, but made no effort to change it.  

“Nii-sama…”  

The brother lay sprawled on the bed, his imouto straddling him.  

To call it unexpected would be a lie.  

He had long suspected it might come to this.  

He’d noticed, lately, the way Akari’s gaze had shifted when she looked at him.  

Yet…  

“I… can no longer hold back.”  

Akari spoke, her eyes boring into Toru’s.  

“When I think of Nii-sama… when I think of you…”  

“When you think of me… what?”  

Toru’s eyes narrowed to slits as he posed the question.  

“…I hadn’t intended to do something so bold…”  

Akari’s gaze dropped slightly as she spoke.  

“Is that so?”  

“It’s all Nii-sama’s fault.”  

“My fault? How come?”  

“Yes. It’s Nii-sama’s fault.”  

Akari shook her head slightly as she spoke.  

“You knew how I felt… and yet…”  

“Well…”  

Toru frowned, looking up at his imouto’s face.  

A strand of her black hair fell, as if unable to bear the weight of the moment, its tip brushing against his cheek with a tickle.  

“To be honest, I didn’t think you were this worked up about it.”  

Akari’s face, already so devoid of expression, coupled with her penchant for sudden, impulsive actions, made it difficult even for Toru to fully grasp her thoughts. She was patient, enduring much—but that patience meant she bottled everything up until, one day, it exploded. For those closest to her, this made her… troublesome, to say the least.  

The brother—Toru Acura.  

The imouto—Akari Acura.  

Those were the names of this sibling pair.  

Not that they often used their given names formally. Even their neighbors knew nothing of their surname. In many countries, commoners bore no family names, so this raised no eyebrows. In the wake of the long war, refugees were common, and it was hardly unusual for people from different nations to mingle in a single village or town.  

But that aside…  

“Akari. Can I ask you something?”  

Toru’s eyes remained half-lidded as he spoke.  

“What is it, Nii-sama? If it’s a question from my revered Nii-sama, I’m prepared to answer anything.”  

Her tone was earnest, but her eyes were as cold and still as a winter lake.  

Then again, that was typical for her.  

“What’s this?”  

Toru pointed to something just beside his head.  

A single iron hammer.  

Its pointed end was buried deep in the pillow.  

“Nii-sama. What’s wrong?”  

Akari tilted her head, her expression quizzical.  

“Have you succumbed to amnesia at such a young age? This is your beloved weapon of ten years.”  

“I know that.”  

Toru growled, his voice low.  

The hammer wasn’t particularly large. Its power relied on the material’s hardness, its weight, and the wielder’s strength, designed for ease of use—a weapon perfectly suited to serve as a deadly tool, even indoors.  

“What I want to know is why...why...it’s lodged in my pillow.”  

“Because I swung it down.”  

“I know that too.”  

“Then what don’t you understand…?”  

“It’s you I don’t understand, not knowing that.”  

Toru glared up at his imouto’s face.  

“You took that iron hammer.. your beloved weapon of ten years...”  He tapped the hammer with his fingertips, emphasizing his point.  “And swung it down into my pillow. I want to know why. That’s what I don’t get.”  

“Nii-sama…”  

Akari shook her head, her expression tinged with sorrow.  

Though, as always, her face betrayed no real emotion.  

“I didn’t swing the hammer at your pillow.”  

“Oh?”  

“I swung it at your head.”  

“That’s even worse, you idiot!”  

Toru’s voice rumbled with exasperation, though, still groggy from sleep, it came out more like a mumbled grumble.  

“Are you trying to kill me?”  

“As if I could harbor murderous intent toward my revered Nii-sama.”  

Akari declared this boldly, her hammer still embedded in the pillow.  Her complete lack of guilt was almost refreshing in its audacity.  

“I only wanted to wake Nii-sama, who refused to rise no matter how much time passed.”  

“I nearly woke up in eternal sleep.”  

It had been a close call. Had Toru not rolled toward the wall in his sleep, the hammer would undoubtedly have struck not the pillow but his forehead. Though currently hidden by the pillow, Akari’s hammer had a pointed side which is capable of piercing straight through a skull, reaching the brain with brutal force.  

“I see.”  

Akari nodded, utterly unfazed.  

Her demeanor seemed to ask, And what of it?  

“…”  

“…”  

Neither moved, and silence settled between them once more.  The distant chirping of birds filled the air again.  

“…Nii-sama.”  

Akari’s voice, as flat as ever, broke the silence, as if she’d grown bored of their staring contest.  

“What’s today’s plan?”  

“Sleep.”  Toru’s response was laced with irritation.  “Or rather, lounge around.”  

“Hm. Anything else?”  

“Eat something if I get hungry.”  

“I see. Sensible. Anything else?”  

“That’s it.”  

Toru grumbled, rolling onto his side once more.  

Akari fell silent, as if waiting for him to continue but... 

“…Nii-sama.”  

She spoke again, gazing down at his profile.  

The hammer, incidentally, remained lodged in his pillow.  

“If you actually worked today, I’d be so overjoyed I might burst a nosebleed.”  

“Then bleed out and sleep forever.”  

“That’s harsh, Nii-sama. And here I hold such reverence for you.”  

“And show it by smacking me with a hammer?”  

“It’s the hammer of love.”  

Akari’s response was utterly composed.  

With a nimble motion, she hopped off the bed, effortlessly pulling the hammer free and slinging it over her shoulder. Her toned arms made the act seem unremarkable, yet the sight of a young girl wielding such a vicious weapon remained strikingly incongruous, even to those accustomed to it.  

“Nii-sama. I’ve always wondered something.”  

“What now?”  

“Why doesn’t Nii-sama work?”  

The question, devoid of mockery or scorn, stung all the more for its sincerity.  

Toru swallowed a sigh before answering.  

“If I work, I lose.”  

He spoke with his back to his imouto.  

“…”  

He could sense Akari tilting her head behind him.  

“Lose to whom?”  

“No idea.”  

“…”  

A heavy, meaningless silence fell between them.  

Toru felt her piercing gaze, like a blade, and added, almost as an afterthought,  

“Just leave me alone.”  

“…”  

Akari seemed to ponder this for a moment.  

(…Killing intent!?)  

A murderous aura—killing intent in its truest form.  

“—!!”  

The hammer swung with terrifying speed, grazing Toru’s head as he instinctively ducked. Had he been a fraction slower, his scalp would have been torn off, leaving him bald or even worse, if a bare skull could be called bald.  

“You—!”  

Toru shot upright, whirling to face his imouto.  

“Nii-sama—”  

Akari pressed a hand to her eyes, as if in sorrow though her expression remained unchanged. Her right hand, meanwhile, swung the hammer with ferocious speed.  

“If you insist.”  

“Wait. Just wait. Put that thing down first!”  

Toru raised both hands, as if to keep Akari at bay. At this distance, a slight extension of her arm would send the hammer crashing into his head. It was the perfect range for a killing blow. A single strike, fueled by the momentum of her swing, could split Toru and the bed in two.  

“…”  

Akari, however, continued to whirl the hammer, its motion a deafening hum.  

She showed no intention of lowering her weapon. Usually, Toru could dodge her nagging with vague excuses, and she’d relent. But today, it seemed Akari was prepared for all-out war. Her patience had finally snapped.  

“Nii-sama…”  

“What?”  

“If Nii-sama continues this life of not working, barely leaving the house, and just rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around, rolling around…”  

“How much am I rolling, exactly?”  

“…then, at this point…”  

“At this point, what?”  

“…I’ll have no choice but to turn Nii-sama into a stuffed trophy and sell you.”  

“Don’t! And who’d buy that!?”  

“Ridiculous.”  

Akari shook her head, as if genuinely surprised, her hammer still whirling without pause.  

“I’d take out a loan to buy it.”  

“My stuffed corpse?”  

“It wouldn’t eat, so in the long run, it’d be cheaper than the living Nii-sama.”  

“…”  

“…”  

A heavy silence settled between them.  

The relentless whir of the hammer was the only sound, oppressively loud.  

“Indeed, a stuffed—”  

“A-Alright, alright, I get it!”  

Toru interrupted, his voice tinged with panic.  

At this rate, his imouto might actually bludgeon him to death. Being turned into a trophy was equally unappealing. He had no intention of working, not even now, but he needed a plan to escape this situation without falling back into a second nap.  

“For now, uh, well, let’s eat breakfast first.”  

“We’re out of food.”  

Akari finally lowered the hammer as she spoke.  

“I told you last night’s dinner was our last meal.”  

“…Did you?”  Toru glanced at the ceiling, letting out a sigh.  

Now that she mentioned it, he vaguely recalled her saying something to that effect the previous evening. As usual, he’d tuned out her nagging, so the details were hazy.  

“Nii-sama...”  

Akari raised the hammer once more.  

“A-Alright!! I’ll figure out something for breakfast now!!”  

The hammer, slicing through the air with lethal force, stopped just short of pulverizing Toru’s face, halted by his desperate, almost scream-like shout.