Kaku and I in Baguio

CHAPTER 4: OH, PRETTY WOMAN

Why are we always grumpy first thing in the morning? It's either we wake up itchy, sweaty, or just solely pissed at the world. We furrow our brows and cast scowls at everybody or anything as if someone had taken the moon and replaced it with the sun while we were deep asleep as if someone had taken the chilly breeze of the night and replaced it with heat waves, and as if someone replaced the cicadas with white noise.

Perhaps these fierce little gestures serve as a tiny outlet for our pent-up frustrations in life.

I remove the sheets by flapping my legs and get off the bed like a sullen butterfly breaking out of its chrysalis. My bare feet dig into the rosewood stair, and each step aches my ankles for some reason-I forgot to mention, every muscle and joint is painful when you wake up, especially if you did anything physiological challenging activity before bed.

Ah, yes. Kaku and I had our horrendous excursion last night.

I walk into the kitchen and smell the typical whiff of the Japanese suburban household-my sister is quite a perfectionist, everything in this house is in peace in order, if she's home.

"Good morning," my sister says as she places a lasagna on the kitchen table; it smells so good that I could devour it all in seconds. I yawn with my eyes still sewed shut, lift my shirt with my right hand to give myself a belly rub, and rub my stinging eyes with my right hand.

"onee-san," I say, my voice bouncy and silly. I need something from her, and this method is always effective. With my eyes still sewed shut, I make my way to her in the sink and hug her from behind. "Onee-san," I say, rubbing my cheek against her back. "Let's go visit Baguio!"

"Y/n," My sister says, "stop hugging me." Her voice is way too deep, is she having a soar throat? Her back appears to be sturdy as well; does she go to the gym? I run my palms over her stomach, which is unusually overly muscled, and her arms appear to be buffed as well. Now that I think about it, my hand hasn't brushed up against her gigantic boobies; did she get breast reduction surgery?

"Oi, onee-san, have you been-" I raise my head and open my eyes only to see Kakucho's face. His red, and gunmetal iris had the same expression as mine: what are you doing?

"Oniisan, onee-san, why are you two cuddling?" Tsumiki-still in her pajamas- enters the kitchen, rubbing her drowsy eyes.

"Cuddling?" I pull away from him and sprint to the farthest corner of the room. "Why are you here?" I perk my brows and wait for his response. But he's just as confused as I am. I slap my forehead with my flat palm in embarrassment. I hugged and rubbed my face on his body as if I were actually cuddling.

"Is the lasagna good?" A boy with short white hair walks in and sits next to Tsumiki waiting for the good to be served while rubbing his droopy eyes.

The boy...... I tilt my head, attempting to remember the boy...... It's the boy that was behind Kakucho last night! But why is he here? He's also dressed in his pajamas. In fact, all four of us are dressed in pajamas as if we just woke up from a slumber camp.

Why are they here?

"Why are you two looking as if you've seen a ghost?" The boy with white hair perks his eyebrows and blows the strands of hair framing his face with his breath.

"They were cuddling," Tsumiki whispers and yawns in her little palms.

"Ew, gross!" The boy with white hair wrinkles his nose while looking at Tsumiki; Tsumiki nods then falls asleep, leaning on the boy's arms.

"What are you two doing? Both of you seem too spook to even breathe." He looks back and forth at me and Kakucho, "Wait, why do you two have broken noses?"