Several days had already passed since what happened. Dawn was just beginning to peek over the horizon, and the light filtering through the window made him frown as soon as he opened his eyes.
An uncomfortable burning pierced his vision, making him instinctively turn his face away and cover his eyes with his forearm.
It took him several minutes to fully wake up. As always, the first thing he did after getting up was head to the small bathroom attached to the room.
After rinsing his face and stepping out, he saw Kanna, who was—as every morning—pouring him a cup of tea.
Although the accident had happened a few days earlier, he still didn't have the courage to look her in the face. He felt guilty for having caused her trouble.
As he walked past her, he couldn't help but shield his eyes with his hand from the strong light coming through the same window that had woken him. Before sitting down, he closed the curtains and settled into the chair by the small table.
Kanna, who hadn't said a word since entering the room, took a seat across from him and poured herself her own cup of tea.
It was a daily routine ever since Reo could remember, and yet the atmosphere felt uncomfortable.
Neither of them spoke for several seconds. Reo fiddled with the small cup in his hands until, gathering his courage, he glanced sideways at Kanna and swallowed.
"I— Kanna-san…" he murmured under his breath, unable to say what he really wanted.
That day, she hadn't punished him. She had simply left him in the room and watched him for a few seconds before leaving. Since then, they hadn't had a proper conversation.
Kanna took a long sip of her tea, ignoring how hot it was, and when she finished, she looked at him.
"There's no need for you to keep blaming yourself for what happened. What's done is done."
Hearing her, Reo tightened his grip on the cup and looked away. Even so, the guilt didn't fade.
"S-still…" he murmured, ashamed.
Kanna narrowed her eyes at the child's stubbornness and immediately returned her gaze to him. Reo couldn't decipher what those eyes expressed, but any adult would have noticed a subtle, dangerous glint in that deep red.
"If you feel guilty, there's a little thing you could do for me."
The boy's eyes lit up instantly. He nodded several times, unable to contain himself.
"You'd have to do everything I say. Do you have a problem with that?"
"Y-yes! I'll do anything to make up for my mistake."
'A curse that doesn't match its bearer,' Kanna thought as she watched his enthusiasm.
"Do you know why you can't leave the room?"
The question caught him off guard. All that energy vanished, replaced by a heavy bitterness in his chest.
"N-no— I didn't know why Mom or Dad didn't want to see me… but— since that day… it became clear they don't love me. They… they hate me…"
"You're right. They hate you, but they hate you because they're afraid of you."
Reo lowered his head.
'Why are they afraid of me…?'
"I don't understand," he lamented softly.
"Why would they be afraid of a four-year-old child? Hmm…" she murmured in an almost sarcastic tone, surprising Reo.
"What do you mean?"
Without answering, Kanna stood up and lifted the boy into her arms.
"W-what are you doing?" he asked timidly.
Holding him with one arm, she approached the window and pulled the curtains aside, letting the sunlight in.
"Ahh…" Reo complained, trying to turn his face away.
It took him a few seconds to adjust to the glare, but even then he could barely keep his eyes open.
"I've noticed you've been having trouble with your eyes. Have they become sensitive to light?" she asked calmly.
"For a few days now I've felt some discomfort… it must be from crying," he replied, embarrassed.
"Hmm… maybe." She fell silent for a moment. "Do you know why I didn't punish you that day?"
Reo shook his head. He had expected some punishment, but nothing happened.
"I've never punished you or raised my voice. Never. And I wouldn't over something insignificant."
She stared at him for a few seconds. Anyone would think they were siblings because of how alike they looked.
"Aren't you actually my older sister?" he asked innocently; even he could see the resemblance to Kanna.
"No." She closed the curtains again and set Reo down on the bed, sitting beside him. "Let's talk about something else."
The boy nestled up next to her without hesitation; over time, he had grown attached.
"What are we going to talk about?"
"You've read about curses, haven't you?"
"Yes."
"Then tell me, what are they to you?"
Reo brought a finger to his chin.
"A curse is… like a broken toy no one wants to fix."
He remembered the books that said something like: [Misfortunes that should not exist].
He looked at the closed door and then at his own hands.
"It's what makes my little sister cry when she sees me… and makes Dad angry at me. It's what makes Mom have no time to play and makes me live alone with books."
Kanna remained silent.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"I assumed what I have is a curse. You brought it up out of nowhere… it wasn't hard to figure it out."
"I see…" was all she said. Both of them fell silent.
Unlike before, this time Reo felt comfortable. The guilt no longer weighed so heavily.
He looked down at her lap, and Kanna, noticing, gave a light tap with her hand, giving him permission. The boy carefully rested his head there as she stroked his hair.
They stayed like that for quite a while, until small sobs began to come from the child.
"Why are you crying?" she asked calmly.
Reo ran his hand under his eyes, trying to wipe away his tears.
"I-it's just… my eyes burn."
It wasn't entirely a lie.
He had wanted to cry with someone for a long time. With everything that had happened, that urge had grown stronger, added to the fact that, for some reason, his eyes burned for no apparent reason.
To Reo's vision, only tears flowed. Everything looked damp… and a little blurry.