3. Meeting My Brother

And like that the days went by. It must have been around the six-month mark now. How do I know? Well, it's because I finally succeeded in rolling over. My range of motion is limited to the bed, but even so, being able to move around freely is fascinating. I give my right leg a forceful shove, and then use my hands to give myself a final little push. See? I spun right around, lifted my head from my stomach, and gave a cheeky grin to the empty space in front of me.

Actually, it seems someone had appeared in that empty space before I realized it. I found myself locking eyes with a boy standing there. He froze, his eyes wide with surprise.

"Dah-uu!"

I spoke up in surprise, and the boy seemed to snap out of it; he clenched his hands tight and hurried out of the room. Hmm. Thinking back, he had silky blonde hair and violet eyes. He looked to be about ten years old. I can't say for sure if his Western-looking features were beautiful or not, but he was quite a handsome boy, wasn't he?

Yes, he was likely my older brother.

I lowered my gaze, rolled over once more to return to my original position, and stared up at the ceiling. It was bit chilly around the time I was born, but now, I sweat whenever I move vigorously. My clothes have become thinner, and in fact, there was quite a fuss the other day because I've started getting heat rash in the bath.

In other words, it is summer. And when you think of summer, you think of summer vacation. And when you think of summer vacation, you think of students coming home.

He must have come back to his family home, even if he didn't want to, only to find his younger sister there. He probably just wanted to take a little peek at me. It's a real shame that his first impression was a smirk, but it's his own fault for barging in without knocking.

Still, so that's what blonde hair and violet eyes look like. Since I've never seen a mirror, I have no idea what I look like. All I've ever seen are my chubby little hands, my legs—which feel strangely muscular for a baby because I move so much—and the soft, fuzzy hair visible at the edges of my vision.

If I look even a little bit like him, I might actually be super beautiful. With that thought in mind, I rolled over again.

Around that time, I started weaning onto solid foods, and with that, Martha's visits became less frequent. While I felt a sense of loneliness, my brother kept appearing and standing by the door, staring intently at me. In the beginning, I was a bit wary, so we spent a lot of time in a sort of silent staring contest, avoiding eye contact, but since he didn't seem like the type to reach out and grab me, I soon continued my usual routine: rolling around while babbling, and attempting to transition from rolling to sitting up.

That's right—I've become able to sit up, provided someone helps me into position. It's incredibly convenient when it's time to be fed my baby food.

My next goal is to be able to sit up all by myself. As I was rolling around, something poked me in the cheek.

"Daaaa!"

Moving only my eyes, I saw my older brother pointing a finger at my cheek.

"Eeei!

Stop it. That's what I meant to say, but my brother just kept pressing his finger into my cheek with a blank expression. Of course it's soft. But still.

"Da, daaa!"

I swiped his finger away with my hand. I'm telling you, it hurts! But then, he went and pinched both of my cheeks. He's squishing them.

“Daa, daa!”

I tried to say his grip is too strong. Stop it.

“Daa!”

His pinching strength was growning, and it was starting to hurt.

“Gyaa!”

It was so frustrating that he wouldn't stop no matter how much I told him, and finally, tears began to well up.

“Agyaa! Gyaaa!”

Startled by my wailing, my brother looked at my cheeks, which had likely turned red, and,

“Sorry, I didn't mean to,”

he said before running off. Even if he didn't mean to, it still hurt. Even though I knew no one was coming, I kept on wailing loudly. I had no idea he was standing in the hallway, listening to me and fidgeting nervously the entire time.

Still, my brother kept coming back over and over again, as if he had nothing better to do.

"Ta!"

A baby's sense of caution doesn't last very long. Because I let my guard down, he pinched my cheek again.

"Daaaa!"

Stop it. But this time, his touch didn't hurt. As I looked up at him, puzzled,

"I practiced with Sebas."

He said sheepishly. Oh dear, so he wasn't being mean after all. In that case, it's fine. I got so happy that I started flailing my arms and legs, then rolled over and showed him that I could sit up. Yes, I had finally learned how to sit up all by myself.

My smug expression must have been quite amusing to him.

"Heh, haha!"

My brother burst out laughing, clutching his stomach. Then he said,

"Hey, can I hold you?"

"Dah!"

I refused. We had to get acquainted first. You can't just go around picking a baby up out of nowhere. Besides, he's only a ten-year-old boy; he'll definitely drop me if he tries to hold me. Absolutely not. However, my look of disapproval seemed to have gone unnoticed.

"Up we go!"

Stop, don't! My resistance was futile; his hands slid under my arms and he pulled me up tight. Before I knew it, I was being hoisted right over the railing of the crib.

Being held by my brother only under my armpits is incredibly unstable and unpleasant. He has to support my bottom, too—it's uncomfortable without it!

"Something's not right..."

"Dah!"

"Maybe I should just sit down with her?"

"Daaaa!"

I tried saying it even louder than before. My brother collapsed straight onto the ground, losing his balance and falling backward. I ended up face-down against his thin chest.

"Ouch..."

"Daaa!"

He had it coming. Still holding me, my brother gently rubs my back.

"You're so warm."

“Dau.”

It is summer, after all.

“You're so soft.”

“Dau.”

Because I'm a baby. Big brother is thin and hard. I wonder if he even eats. I reached out my hand and tried patting his cheek.

He gently placed his hand over mine where I had reached out, pressing it firmly against his cheek.

“Mama...”

“Ba-ba!”

“Just like Mama, you're warm.”

“Eeei”

I'm sure it wasn't exactly the same. But I suppose this is how Mother used to gently stroke Brother's cheek and hold him close.

“It wasn't your fault.”

“A-u.”

Exactly. It wouldn't do for me to be blamed for Mother's death. Because,

“I have memories of Mother. But you have no memories of her at all.”

That's right. In truth, I'm the one who's hurting.

“Bwah...”

“Huh?”

“Bwah...”

No matter how much I claim to have memories of my past life, the truth is, I was lonely. I wanted him to hold me more, talk to me more, and tell me how much he loved me, how precious I was.

"Lilia"

He knew. My brother called my name hesitantly. In that case, I should answer him.

"A-ai. Bwah!"

"Lilia."

"Bwaah!"

We hugged tightly. No, that's not right. My brother was squeezing me tight. Stop, stop, I'm gonna barf!

"Lord Luke? Oh!"

It continued like that until Sebas happened to pass by and saw me flailing about.

My brother was lectured relentlessly by Sebas on how to handle a baby. In the meantime, I was forgotten by the two of them and left lying on the floor. This is... a chance!

Roll, roll, roll. The wide floor, not a crib. I can roll forever. Roll, roll...

"Listen closely, a baby must—ah, Lady Lilia!"

"Ah, Lilia!"

I was captured in the blink of an eye.