No Money - My Imouto Has

“I’ll pay you back,” she said.

She stared at it. Then her eyes glossed over—not with sadness, but that stubborn, angry love of someone who hates needing help.

I sighed, reached into my pocket, and slid a plain envelope across the table. my imouto has no money

She didn’t open the envelope. Just clutched it to her chest and whispered, “Thank you.”

That night, I heard her crying quietly through the paper-thin wall. Not from shame. From relief. “I’ll pay you back,” she said

I already knew. The electric bill was due. Her part-time job at the bookstore had cut her hours. And she’d spent her last yen on a get-well card for a classmate’s mother.

“I know.”

“Onii-chan,” she whispered, not meeting my eyes.