Chapter Text
Sighing deeply, Seika exhaustingly reached up her face, and gently grabbed it. Slowly sliding down when she relaxed. Brows furrowed as she thought about talking to Nijika, specifically, her concerns with the state of her band.
It’s been a few months since her sister’s band started kicking off, the fruiting efforts of all the members working together, aspiring excitedly towards their individual goals, but tightening their bonds to be more than just a mere band! And while they’ve been continuously doing great, things she’d rather not think about rush to the surface whenever she could see a clear difference in energy between the four members, often being that her sister, Kita, and Ryo, being astounding in energy while Bocchi seemed to teeter between a shriveled-up plum, to a dazed husk of pink and sweat, the smell of her sister gnawing at her as it unnaturally comes off of her direction.
Other times, it’d be the total opposite. Where the rest of the bandmembers being exhausted, feverishly sweating even, but Bocchi’s skin just gleamed with motivation to play at the stage. Seemingly in a high, where confidence seemed to be welling from an unknown source.
But, even if she had her suspicions, it wasn’t like she had concrete evidence towards anything nefarious being up and about. For all she knew, the four of them could’ve just been so close together lately, that they started sharing around soaps and shampoos they were using. Such an idea was definitely plausible coming from Ryo or Bocchi, especially if it was for growing closer together, with the two people having different thoughts and motivations for said idea.
She knew however, that the bandmembers all started acting differently all of a sudden. Frequent one-on-one sessions with Bocchi, annoyances with closure about specific bandmembers towards Bocchi, the three often bickering about more, mostly in a joking matter, sure. But whenever Bocchi wasn’t with them, the rate of her name being spoken rises dramatically, and whenever she manages to get a close look with them, their expressions nauseated her.
With a push, a pull, and a push. The smears of the wet mop is about as much help as the effort she wipes as there’s no cleaning solution in the water. Cleaning the floor of an empty studio was always something in-between the line of monotonous and funny, because the rare times something’s managed to come about in ways she couldn’t have realized can end up there. Most of the time it was litter appearing in some indistinct place, put there by someone carelessly littering. Although, whenever she’s gone inside the room Nijika’s band just went in, there’s a distinct smell of sex, eerily clean spots, alongside an underwear or two, distinct bouts of concern coming about her face, as her face contorts itself in disbelief, whenever she notices it’s Nijika’s.
Undeniably so, it is cause for concern especially when she barged in once, only to find all but Kita passed out somewhere in a dim corner, with the aggressive jolt of terror visibly running through Kita as she immediately stops what she was doing, crouched on the floor, seemingly wiping something.
“Kita`find suffix usage`, what’re you doing?” She nearly glared into the shaky autumn leaf, visibly sweating.
“Uhhh yeah, nothing much! I thought t- there was gum on the floor! That’s it.” Unnaturally responded the Isstagramer.
“You could’ve asked for a scraper, you know that right? I’m sure you know where they are from how many appear underneath the tables.”
Kita distinctly became more nervous, the panic in her gait and expression was stupidly obvious—
“Ah, nee-chan! Why were you thinking so hard, that you forgot to continue mopping? Mou, even when you scold me for that, even you do it!” Suddenly spoke her sister, breaking her thoughts. That’s right, she was mopping. But that doesn’t matter at all now, does it? After all, this is perfect to ask her. She always felt too awkward to bring it up suddenly, whenever she was cooking, eating, or just lounging around.
“…Hey, Nijika?” forced the taller dorito, words and thoughts feeling like gravel escaping her throat. “Something’s been genuinely concerning me for a while now, and… ”
“Nee…chan?”
“Well, lately, I’ve been noticing more and more about, well… ugh.” Steeling her resolve, “Nijika. I’m worried about you. Every time I see you lately, I’m always worried about who exactly you’ve been with, especially in a sexual way. Seriously, what’s happening Nijika?”
Outright pleading it out, a resolute firmness boundlessly fluttered within the tone of her voice, the vulnerability of which trying to gain the trust of Nijika, hoping that it would be returned to her.
“Nee-chan, w- what d—”
“Nijika. I would’ve preferred it if you don’t go out of your way to trick me. There’s too much I know to even continue with acting mindlessly normal around you, Bocchi, Ryo, and Kita.” Sighing, she smiled bitterly. “You know what? It’s fine. Just… don’t do it too close to me.”
Walking past Nijika with the cleaning supplies, the quickly growing dread of the little sister only stared at the shut door behind her.
As the days passed, each time she interacted to her sister, at work or home, a noticeable look came to her face, the expression aching her heart as she indistinctly hears snippets of her bandmembers bickering about something or another, a depraved tone or two escaping from the mess of regulated noise.
Her disturbance was enough for Bocchi to notice something wasn’t right. “N-Nijika-san? What’s wrong?” asked the currently flaccid, slightly damp, pinkette, “If you want… you can tell me, uh- of course! You don’t need to tell me- it’s just, well…”
“Thank you, Bocchi-chan,” hugged the despairing triangle, “it’s just, uh sorry to startle you, but my sister knows. And, she isn’t taking it well.” Staring at Bocchi who’s slowly turning into ash, she continued with her guilt, ending up crying into Bocchi’s arms, gradually falling asleep as Hitori comforted her.
Admittedly, Hitori was startled at only finding about this now, but, through all that anxious worry, she decided to go towards a path that forces Nijika to never make an expression like that again.