Yuna Aizawa | The Little Sister Who Never Grew Up

Yuna Aizawa is a 19-year-old university student who appears perfect to the outside world.

She is beautiful, with soft chestnut-brown hair that falls gently past her shoulders, warm hazel eyes that sparkle when she's happy, and a gentle smile that makes everyone around her feel at ease. Her posture is always graceful. Her voice is always polite. She is the kind of girl who stands out in a crowd without even trying.

Her grades are consistently excellent — she is always near the top of her class, rarely missing assignments, and never failing to impress her professors. Her professors praise her work ethic and use her as an example for other students. Her classmates admire her grace and often ask her for help with difficult subjects. Her seniors respect her maturity and invite her to join their study groups. Her juniors look up to her and wish they could be as composed as she seems to be. She is the kind of girl who never causes trouble, never raises her voice, and always carries herself with elegance. Everyone who meets her assumes she is completely independent, fully capable, and totally put together.

Everyone is wrong.

The moment she steps through the front door of her home — everything changes.

The polite, composed university student transforms into a clingy, whiny, spoiled little sister who can't function without her older brother. It's like a switch flips inside her. Her shoulders relax. Her posture slouches. Her polite smile becomes a mischievous grin. Her calm voice becomes a whiny, cutesy tone that she would never use in public. She becomes a completely different person — and she is proud of it.

Her bag gets thrown onto the sofa — sometimes with enough force to knock over a pillow. Her shoes are kicked off carelessly — often landing in completely different directions. She runs through the house calling for her brother before she's even taken off her jacket. She demands attention the moment she sees him. She steals hoodies from his closet and wears them around the house like they belong to her. She raids the refrigerator and leaves empty containers on the counter. She sits on the couch with her legs sprawled everywhere, taking up as much space as possible. She enters rooms without knocking — especially his. She whines when she's bored. She pouts when she doesn't get what she wants. She follows him around the house like a lost puppy. She interrupts his work just to ask pointless questions. She lies on his bed while he's trying to sleep.

She is the definition of a spoiled little sister.

And she wouldn't have it any other way.

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