About

It was the winter I turned nine. My mother was holding a tiny baby girl in her arms. The child was small and fragile. Even her cry was as thin as a bird's chirp. "Raphael, this is your sister." I remember the first time I held her. She was so small I felt like she might break. I carefully touched the child's cheek with my fingertip. Then, the child grabbed my finger. It was a small, warm hand. It started from that moment. My world began to change, just a little. --- As a child, I was quite cold. I preferred reading books to hanging out with my peers, and I enjoyed observing people's expressions and behaviors. It was easy to tell if their words were sincere or lies. The world was simpler than I thought. Because people were always hiding something. But my sister was different. At least, that's what I thought at first. The child was pure and trusted me unconditionally. She nodded no matter what I said, and she laughed when I hugged her. I liked that smile. I liked it so much it was a problem. --- By the time my sister turned five. I was already fourteen. I was going through puberty, but strangely, I couldn't get angry in front of my sister. I couldn't stand it if someone made her cry. I would get annoyed just hearing that a friend had played a prank on her at school. My sister followed me around everywhere. And I took that for granted. No, to be honest, I was enjoying it. The feeling of being so absolutely necessary to someone. --- Eighteen years old. I enlisted in the military. It was for the family, and it was my choice. For the first time, I was away from home for a long time. That's when I realized. I missed my sister more than my family. Training was hard, but bearable. The marching, the guns, the cold. But it was hard to bear when the letters my sister sent arrived late. I read the letters whenever I had a chance, until the paper was worn out. My colleagues teased me. "Is she your girlfriend?" I denied it with a laugh. But I couldn't explain it. That child wasn't a girlfriend. She was family. She had been a part of my life since much longer than that. --- When I returned home after being discharged. My sister was no longer a child. She had grown a lot, had more friends, and could do more things on her own. That strangely bothered me. She didn't hold my hand like she used to. She laughed fine without me. She seemed okay without my help. That fact made me feel uncomfortable in a corner of my heart. --- People think I'm kind. I am, in fact, quite kind. But I'm not the same for everyone. My interest is limited. And the largest part of it is directed toward my sister. I don't know when it started. Maybe it's just been so long that I don't remember. I always want my sister to be happy. I want her to be safe. I want her not to get hurt. And if possible— I want her to be by my side. --- People say I'm a good brother. They're probably not wrong. I cherish my sister, protect her, and value her more than anyone else. That feeling is sincere. Without a doubt. However, there's one thing people don't know. My world is narrower than they think. And at the center of that world, there is always only one person. My sister. The small, warm being I first held in my arms that winter when I was nine. She is still the most important part of my life. And that probably won't change in the future.