I'm still standing a few paces away, feeling a bit like I'm dreaming. Jirou finally turns to me, flashing that signature lopsided grin. "What, no hello for your big bro?" he quips.

  I snap out of my daze, crossing the distance in two strides before pulling him into a fierce hug of my own. "You absolute jerk," I say, voice muffled against his shoulder. "You could've told us you were coming!" Despite the harsh words, I can't stop smiling. I hadn't realized how much I missed him until this moment, with his familiar warmth and the faint scent of his cologne (and a bit of engine oil?) filling my nose.

  Jirou chuckles, patting my back. "And ruin the surprise? Nah." He gives me one last squeeze and we step apart. He plants a hand on my head and musses my already messy hair vigorously. "Looks like you grew an inch or two, squirt." I swat his hand away, rolling my eyes even as I laugh. "Don't call me squirt. Pretty sure I'm almost as tall as you now." In truth, I'm still a good few inches shorter, but I puff out my chest in mock indignation.

  "Sure, sure. Keep drinking your milk," Jirou retorts, winking. His teasing is light, familiar, and for a moment it's like all the heavy months apart never happened. I hadn't realized how tense I've been until now; Jirou's presence is like a burst of sunshine through a cloudy sky. Even Mom's posture has relaxed as she laughs at our exchange.

  We guide Jirou further inside and I take his duffel to set it behind the counter. "What brings you back?" I ask, unable to contain my curiosity. Last we heard, he was across the country doing some kind of hero training internship. Jirou opens his mouth to answer, but before he can, his gaze lands on the array of muffins cooling on the counter.

  His eyes light up. "Oh man, are those banana-chocolate chip?" he asks, effectively derailing the conversation as his stomach growls audibly. Mom clucks her tongue with affectionate exasperation. "Sit, both of you. I'll get you some," she insists, already moving to grab plates.

  Jirou and I slide into one of the corner booths. It's early afternoon now, and only one customer remains, a man engrossed in a newspaper on the far side of the café. I have a million questions for my brother, but I know better than to bombard him all at once. Instead, I just keep sneaking glances at him, still marveling that he's really here.

  He catches me looking and raises an eyebrow. "Something on my face?" he jokes. I smirk. "Just shock and awe. You know, seeing the Prodigal Son return without warning."

  He snorts. "Prodigal? Big word. Someone aced his vocabulary tests." He leans back, and for a moment his eyes drift around our humble café. His smile softens as he takes it in – the familiar worn leather seats, the chalkboard menu with Mom's loopy handwriting, the framed family photo behind the register. "Missed this place," he admits quietly. "Missed you guys." My chest tightens at that. I missed him too – more than I let on in our occasional phone calls. Having him here, larger than life, reminds me how empty the house can feel with only one sibling around.

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  Mom bustles over with plates of muffins and two steaming mugs of coffee. "Eat up," she says, sliding them in front of us. "On the house." We all laugh at that – as if she'd ever charge her own son. Jirou immediately tears into a muffin, and I realize he must have traveled a long way; he's practically inhaling it.

  "So how long do we get you for?" I ask between bites of my own muffin. At this, Jirou pauses, dusting crumbs off his fingers.

  "Well… I've got a few days off," he says. "Thought I'd swing by and check on my favorite family." His tone is casual, but something about it feels just a tad forced. A little warning bell rings in my head – something's off. Jirou won't quite meet my eyes as he hides his face behind his coffee cup for a long sip.

  Mom doesn't seem to notice and launches into updating Jirou about the cafe – how business has been steady, how Mrs. Takagi down the street still comes in every morning and asks about him. I watch Jirou closely. He's listening and smiling in all the right places, asking Mom about her health, about the new cake recipe she mentioned in her last text. To anyone else, he'd seem perfectly cheerful.

  But I see the small tells: the way his knee bounces slightly under the table (he's restless).

  There's a tension in his shoulders that never quite leaves, even as he jokes with Mom and me. It's subtle, but it's there.

  I don't pry. Instead, I steer the conversation toward safer ground. "You picked a perfect day to drop in," I say lightly. "You'll never guess what today is." Jirou raises a brow, pretending to think hard. "Tuesday?" I roll my eyes. "Yes, and? What's special about today?" Mom chuckles into her coffee.

  Jirou snaps his fingers with fake dramatic flair. "Oh! How could I forget? It's free refill day at the café." I swat a balled-up napkin at him. "Ding-dong. Wrong answer." Finally, I just grin and announce, "It's Karui's U.A. exam day."

  Jirou's face brightens genuinely at that. "No way, that's today?!" Mom nods. "We just sent her off this morning." Pride and worry war in Mom's voice. Jirou lets out a low whistle. "Man, I wish I could've seen her off. I bet she was excited."

  I shrug with a small smile.

  "Nervous too. But yeah, she was ready. You know Rui." He nods thoughtfully, then flashes a grin. "Our little firecracker's all grown up, huh?" There's a fondness in his tone that warms me. Karui and Jirou have always been close; she idolizes him. Knowing he's here now – even if he missed the send-off – she'll be over the moon.

  "How long until her exam's done?" Jirou asks, casually drumming his fingers on the table. I glance at the clock. It's almost 2 PM. "Well, they had orientation and written tests first, then a practical. The practical should be wrapping up around now, maybe by 2:30 or 3. Not sure exactly." Mom chimes in, "She said she'd be finished and free to leave by late afternoon. We're expecting her back home by evening at the latest." Jirou nods, absorbing this.

  He pulls out his phone briefly, checks something on it (a message maybe?), and puts it away. "She'll probably message when she's done. Or knowing her, she'll sprint straight home to tell us everything," I say with a laugh. Actually, now that I think of it, she might swing by the cafe first since it's on the way.