The sun crept up over the skyline of Tokyo, catching the glass towers in pale gold. Another day, another routine. I tugged on my work boots, half-listening to the TV in the next room.

“Rebels are moving forward, they have—”

The broadcast cut off mid-sentence. A sharp crack followed by the smash of glass jolted me upright. My heart stuttered. I left one boot half-laced and hurried into the living room.

The TV was ruined—screen fractured, glass scattered across the tatami. My little brother stood in front of it, fists clenched at his sides, shoulders rigid.

“Hey!” I said, stopping in the doorway. “What happened?”

He flinched but didn’t turn around. “I… I did it.” His voice was barely more than a whisper. “I didn’t want to hear them anymore.”

I took a breath, trying to keep my tone steady as I stepped closer. “You can’t just smash things because you don’t like what’s on.” I crouched down, brushing his hair with my hand. “But…” I sighed, softer now, “I get it.”

He finally looked up at me, wide-eyed, almost waiting for me to shout. Instead I tugged at my bootlace, knotting it with a sharp pull.

“Would’ve been better if they’d stayed gone the first time,” I muttered. “Then none of us would have to hear about them now.”

The words hung between us, heavy in the quiet apartment, while the ruined TV gave off one last faint hiss before going still...