I Joined the Sentai Heroes Who Were Beautiful Girls Other Than Me but the Heroines Were All Yanderangers

57. Until I Turn Philander Green 1

“My dream for the future. My dream for the future is to become a doctor. I want to become a doctor and help lots of people who are unwell, just like my older sister. I want to make the world a place where all the children can play happily. 2nd Grade, Class 1, Tokiwa Uguisu.”

An essay presentation during parents’ day. The topic: ‘My dream for the future.’

A typical topic for a typical schedule. All second-graders’ essays are more or less the same. Every parent zones out during every presentation except their own child’s. My essay wasn’t anything special either. Including me, there were three students in our class who wrote similar essays about wanting to become doctors. One of them wanted to be a veterinarian.

But my mother was overjoyed with my dream for the future. She said she was glad I grew up to be such a caring child.

Thinking back now, my heart must not have been pure even when I wrote that essay. I was just converting my heartfelt wish to see my sister get better into a socially acceptable request. I think I simply desired something I didn’t have. Children are more sensitive to the emotions directed at them than adults think.

I, Tokiwa Uguisu, was a serious and intelligent child. The adults around me often said, “What a well-behaved child,” “She’s so mature,” and “She’s so easy to handle.” And I was proud to say that it was true. In short, I was a good girl.

I have an older sister who is two years older than me. Her name is Tokiwa Hisui, and I remember that we were very close.

As I wrote in my essay, my sister was sickly. However, she didn’t have an incurable disease or frequent hospitalizations. She was a perfectly healthy girl who was just smaller, thinner, and weaker than others.

Perhaps because she was born severely underweight and frail, to the point where she was on the verge of death, my parents were overly protective of her.

“I’m sorry, Uguisu. Your sister’s not feeling well. Can you take the bus home by yourself?”

I remember that phone call from my mother very well. It was when I was in fourth grade, after my fourth or fifth cram school session.

I had never taken the bus by myself, and my chest felt like it was going to burst with anxiety. But as a sensible child, I tried my best to sound calm and replied,

“Yes, I’ll be fine. Please stay with Onee-chan.”

It was a lie that a ten-year-old blurted out on the spur of the moment. I’m sure my voice was trembling, and any adult would have known that I wasn’t “fine.”

“Thank you, Uguisu. Be careful,” my mother said before hanging up. I can still clearly recall the great unease I felt when she ended the call without confirming the name of the bus stop I was supposed to get off at or the bus route.

My sister had beautiful, curly hair that was similar in color to my mother’s, and she was so petite that she surpassed my height when I was in an arranged marriage, said that she looked just like my mother when she was younger. Maybe that’s why my father seemed to favor my sister more than me.

My father worked away from home and looked forward to our weekend video calls, but he was known for being a devoted husband at work. It’s understandable that he would find my sister, who resembles my mother, more adorable. I, on the other hand , resemble my father, so I sometimes felt a little envious.

My sister was a slender beauty who perfectly fit the description of ‘fleeting’. With her downcast eyes, thin yet clear voice, pale skin that was sensitive to sunlight, and thin limbs that looked as delicate as glasswork, she was the epitome of a fleeting beauty from a storybook. Despite her appearance, she was actually very cheerful and friendly, and she had many friends.

My sister attended the same school as me, but she always sat out of physical education classes and sometimes fell asleep in the infirmary. It couldn’t be helped because of her constitution. When I saw my serious sister trying to attend classes even when she wasn’t feeling well, the adults would all say, “What a good and strong child.”

Perhaps her frail yet determined demeanor to be on par with other children captured the hearts of many adults. My sister’s essays often win awards. Maybe it’s because artists tend to be sickly, but her paintings and crafts also often win prizes. Tokiwa Hisui, who was weak, beautiful, and intelligent, was a beloved existence, even in my eyes as her younger sister.

Of course, I was proud of my sister.

That’s why I don’t hate my sister or her constitution. It’s just that I was a little more mature and a little more intelligent than other children. I ended up realizing things that I didn’t need to know.