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Ayaka’s hands tremble with anxiety every single time she has to give a speech at an event.
She is as tense as a guitar string, completely powerless to do anything about it.
Even though the young lady has grown accustomed over the years to the fact that she is no longer just a girl, but the face of the clan, every time feels like the very first. Being a pillar of support for so many citizens of Inazuma is a heavy burden. Even when every little detail is accounted for, she still cannot soothe this foolish anxiety, cannot seem to pull herself together.
How on earth does Ayato manage to remain so perfectly calm in any situation?
Time and time again, as she rehearses her speech in front of the mirror, her clumsy fingers drop the bright ribbon she is unsuccessfully trying to tie her hair up with. Every word has been chosen with absolute precision, meant to touch the soul of every Inazuman. She knows the lines by heart. Yet her voice trembles betrayingly, her thoughts tangle, and the stubborn ribbon keeps slipping from her grasp. Damn it. She is so weak.
The ribbon goes flying somewhere to the side, and Kamisato collapses onto a soft stool with a heavy sigh, burying her face in her hands. She cannot let her brother down like this. After all, she was the one who offered to help organize the event, and now everyone is waiting only for her.
"There is no need to worry so much."
Ayato appears behind her almost soundlessly. He carefully picks the satin ribbon up from the floor and steps closer. Was he watching from afar again?
"I believe in you."
His warm smile and soothing voice genuinely give her strength. At first, Ayaka steals a glance, timidly raising her head, and then reaches for her ribbon while brushing a stray bang away from her face, only to change her mind at the very last second.
Ayato is her sanctuary. Even though she knows that deep down he worries immensely, just like anyone else, his outward composure is contagious. She feels it with every fiber of her being and finally lets out a slightly more relaxed breath.
"Will you help me?" she asks softly, as if embarrassed, watching her brother’s expression through the mirror. It is as if he drops all his masks, offering a warm smile as he takes a step toward her.
"Of course, that is why I am here," Ayato is already reaching for the elegant comb. He used to do this in the past. Back when they could still afford to just be children.
"Thank you," she breathes out, feeling the comb touch her hair, and closes her eyes, running through her speech in her mind once again. It is hard.
Ayato merely smiles and gently combs through her long, unruly hair, careful not to tug too hard and accidentally hurt her. With every touch, he soothes her; with every movement, he practically instills tranquility, sharing his own confidence. And Ayaka can feel the anxiety gripping her less and less with each passing second.
"Do you remember how nervous I was when Mother first asked me to help you with your hair?" The sudden question catches her off guard, but it coaxes a smile from her and makes her look in the mirror again.
He is already skillfully tying the ribbon, carefully adjusting it, and combing through the ends of her hair one last time. Caring for her. Just as he had learned to do over all these years.
"You were throwing a tantrum back then, and she was running out of time to get you ready."
"You did a much worse job back then than you do now," Ayaka cannot resist teasing, and they both let out a soft, barely audible laugh.
The memories are warm. Almost tangible, incredibly vivid, and pleasant. They bring nothing but a touch of gentle nostalgia.
"I did a worse job with a lot of things back then," Ayato merely sighs and finally sets the comb back on the vanity, leaning back against the table. He admires his handiwork for a few seconds before exhaling quietly. "I hate to remind you, but everyone is waiting only for you. If you want, I can deliver the speech myself."
"No!" Ayaka snaps up from her seat like a little whirlwind, a fierce look in her eyes. She will not allow extra burdens on her brother's shoulders—never, under any circumstances.
Ayato chuckles.
How stubbornly determined she can be once she sets her mind to something.
"Alright, alright," he raises his hands in a placating gesture and walks alongside Ayaka toward the stage. Toward the crowd gathered and waiting for the festival to begin. Toward the place where his sister needs his support now more than ever.
Even if the entire world turns against the two of them, they will always be each other's pillar of support. When one despairs, the other will without a doubt come to the rescue and offer a shoulder to lean on. Care is an unbreakable rule, established long ago by Ayaka and Ayato's parents, one that everyone follows without exception. Care - a single, concise word that describes the entirety of the Kamisato Clan, perfectly capturing its very essence.