One week passed from that day. On Saturday morning, Makoto drove the girls to the printing shop to collect their rchandise.
He was at the wheel, humming a cheerful, off-key ani the song, completely oblivious. In the back, Ayane was on her phone, scrolling through his Crunchyroll library, which was synced to her account. Mika was doing the sa with his PlayStation account.
"Did you know he's watched all seasons of the Monogatari series?" Ayane whispered, her voice low and conspiratorial. "And he has tons of Hanekawa doujinshi. The glasses-wearing class rep with the big boobs. He has a type."
"Fascinating. I'll wear so glasses next ti." Mika murmured back, her own thumbs flying across her screen. "His trophy list for Persona 5 indicates he pursued a romantic relationship with every single female character. He's a completionist."
"A greedy pig, you an," Ayane snickered.
"Correct," Mika agreed. "Oh, by the way, as thanks for your information, I have a small gift for you."
A notification pinged on Ayane's phone, an airdropped photo from Mika. Her eyes went wide when she opened it, and an utterly degenerate grin spread across her face. It was a picture of Makoto, taken from a low, compromising angle, as he stepped out of the shower without anything covering his lower body.
"Holy shit," Ayane breathed, her voice reverent. "You're a fucking artist, Mika. Do you have more of that?"
"I have a very... complete archive! Like when he almost passed out from Mafuyu's drain last ti." Mika said serenely.
"What are you two giggling about?" Makoto asked, glancing in the rearview mirror.
"Nothing!" they both chirped in perfect, terrifying unison.
The printing shop was a small space filled with the sll of ink and the loud, rhythmic clatter of machinery. The sheer volu of their order was impressive: stacks of heavy cardboard boxes filled with photobooks, posters, acrylic stands, and stickers.
The mont Makoto picked up the photobook from a box and opened it to check, it felt so real. Despite everything, they had managed to make sothing together. "This looks... decent, not bad for our first attempt!" Makoto smiled and closed the book.
"Alright, muscle-man," Ayane said, patting his bicep with an affectionate gesture. "Get the heavy ones. We'll supervise."
Makoto just sighed a long, weary sound of feigned suffering and started hauling the boxes to the car like a happy, dostic pack mule.
When they were on their last trip, their arms laden with the final boxes, a voice cut through the air, dripping with condescension. "Well, well. If it isn't Ayane-chan? I didn't know you had taken up manual labor."
It was Kaiji, Ayane's supposed-to-be-fiancé (who was shot down after Makoto's fake boyfriend performance). He was leaning against his sleek, ridiculously expensive-looking sports car, with a perfect picture of smug, entitled privilege. He looked from the boxes in Ayane's arms to Makoto with a sneer on his handso face.
"Still being together with this poor-looking country bum? I thought your parents had better taste." He took a step forward, his hand reaching out as if to brush a piece of nonexistent dust from her shoulder. "You should be more careful, wouldn't want to break a nail."
Ayane froze from the sudden approach. Makoto saw her shoulders tense, her smile beca brittle and forced. He dropped his boxes, ready to step in.
But he didn't have to because Mika had already moved. Without saying a word, she walked forward like a terrifying angel. She placed herself between Kaiji and Ayane, like a small but immovable obstacle.
She just looked at Kaiji and smiled, her usual angelic smile, beautiful and utterly devoid of warmth. "I believe she's one of us now, Kaiji-san," Mika said, her soft voice more chilling than any shout.
Kaiji's sneer faltered. "Who the hell are you? Ah... I rember." He shrugged. "Weren't you that loser's little sister last ti?"
"I'm Mika Saionji, his second wife," Mika said simply, as if comnting on the weather. She took a step closer, her smile never wavering. "And Ayane-chan is a mber of our family now. We're very... protective."
She tilted her head with a curious expression. "It would be a sha," she continued softly, "if your father were to find out about your unauthorized withdrawals from the company account, right? The ones you used to impress girls at the hostess clubs in Roppongi."
Kaiji's face went from smug confidence to pale, slack-jawed horror. "How... how did you...?"
Mika's smile widened. "I do my howork." She leaned in with a whisper. "You know Judge Hayama Saionji? He's my father." Her voice turned cold without any emotion. "If you dare to approach us again, it will take just so words from for him to investigate the shady works your father's company did."
She looked from his stunned face to Ayane, who was now staring at her with undisguised awe. "Now," Mika said, her voice returning to its normal, calm cadence. "I believe we should leave now."
Kaiji just stood there like a broken, defeated statue in his designer clothing. He didn't say a word as they loaded the last of the boxes and drove away.
The car was silent for a long ti. Ayane just stared out the window, her expression unreadable, and then she turned to Mika. "I still think you're a fucking monster, Mika. But... thanks for stepping out."
"Just did what I needed to do," Mika said and looked at Makoto, her eyes sparkling with wicked brilliance. "And for the record," she added as she turned to Ayane, "you owe for this, Ayane."
===
In the kitchen, Yuna stood over a simring pot with a wooden spoon held in her hand like a scepter. The furious, competitive energy had drained out of her, leaving a focused, almost dostic calm. She was humming a soft, off-key tune from Zero no Tsukaima.
Mafuyu moved around her, her hands deftly chopping vegetables with a practiced rhythm. For a mont, they were just two won preparing a al together.
"Are you... doing okay here, Mafuyu-nee?" Yuna asked, her voice low and almost grudging. Without looking at Mafuyu, she just kept stirring the pot, her gaze fixed on the swirling liquid.
Mafuyu paused her chopping, a genuine smile forming on her face. The quiet question, so uncharacteristically considerate for Yuna, ward her more than the steam from the stove. "Yes," she said, her voice soft but sure. "It's loud and a little insane."
She looked around the ssy, lived-in kitchen, a place that now felt more like ho than her own sterile, loveless apartnt ever did. "But it's a family," she whispered. "And I'm very happy now."
Yuna just grunted and made a noncommittal sound, but Mafuyu saw the faint blush on her ears. As Mafuyu started whisking eggs for an omurice, Yuna watched her for a mont. "You still make it the sa way," she said, her voice tinged with nostalgia.
Mafuyu smiled. "You used to demand two smiley faces drawn in ketchup," she recalled gently. "And you'd get very angry if one of the eyes was bigger than the other."
"Shut up," Yuna muttered, turning back to her pot, but her shoulders were shaking with suppressed laughter. "I was a kid, but I had high standards."
She tried to stay quiet for a mont, but was unable to. "Tch, how do you get the sauce not to be so... lumpy?" she grumbled, poking at her own concoction with a frustrated jab of her spoon. It was the closest she could get to asking for help.
Mafuyu moved to her side, her presence a calm, soothing balm on Yuna's simring frustration. "You have to mix the starch with water first, then add it slowly," she explained gently as she took a whisk. "And keep stirring like this. See?"
Under her expert guidance, the lumpy, pathetic sauce transford into a smooth, glossy soup. Yuna watched with grudging admiration on her face.
"You're trying very hard," Mafuyu said with a teasing glint in her eyes. "Makoto will be so impressed when he tastes it."
"I'm not trying to impress him, you idiot!" Yuna sputtered, her face instantly flushing red. "I'm... I'm honing my wifely skills! To ensure my position as the main wife!"
It was the most tsundere and convoluted excuse Mafuyu had ever heard. She just smiled. "Of course," she said, her voice soft and amused.
Yuna glared at her, and then a wicked grin spread across her face. "Besides, you're one to talk," she said. "The way you were begging him to... you know... break you. Or the way you milk him dry without rcy that night. That was pretty lewd for a shy, quiet woman."
Mafuyu's own blush returned, spreading from her neck to her ears. But she didn't look away. There was no sha in her eyes, only quiet, almost defiant pride. "He... he likes it when I'm like that," she whispered. "He likes all of us, no matter how broken or lewd we are."
That simple truth seed to hang in the air between them. Yuna's teasing grin softened into sothing more thoughtful. "Yeah," she said, her voice a low, grudging murmur. "The fucking pervert does."
They were silent for a mont as a profound understanding passed between them. They were still rivals, but they were also allies and partners in this insane project of loving him.
"He really, really likes the cosplay stuff, though," Yuna mused. "Like... a lot. It's his main kink, I think."
Mafuyu agreed, her voice curious. "He likes to see us beco soone else. Soone stronger, or more vulnerable."
"But I bet I can make him cum faster than any of you, in cosplay or out." Yuna declared, her competitive fire instantly reignited. "It doesn't matter. I... know him first, I fucked him so many tis, I know all his weak spots."
Hearing that, Mafuyu made a chilling smile that would have made Mika proud. "It's about experience, intensity, and endurance, Yuna-chan." A wicked glint appeared in her eyes, sothing very un-Mafuyu-like. "As an experienced woman," she added, "I believe Makoto can't last very long when I go all out."
Yuna stared at her, mouth slightly agape. And then, she burst out laughing. "Okay," she said, wiping a tear from her eye. "Okay, you black widow, you're on." A predatory grin spread across her face as she declared. "Let's have a contest next ti, after the con. We will see who can make him cum the most tis in one night."
Mafuyu just nodded calmly. "We'll need a referee to keep it fair."
"Ayane and Mika can be the judges, and the... the clean-up crew," Yuna said instantly.
The deal was struck. A secret war had just been declared in the quiet, dostic sanctuary of the kitchen.
And then, they heard the sound of a key in the front door. They looked at each other and smoothed their aprons, turning back to the cooking pots.
Makoto, Ayane, and Mika walked in, their arms laden with shopping bags and boxes of finished rchandise.
Makoto called out cheerfully, "We're ho!" He sniffed the air, a contented smile spreading across his face. "Wow, it slls amazing in here! Are you two getting along?"
Yuna and Mafuyu looked at each other, and then they both smiled, a perfect, innocent smile. "Of course," Yuna said, her voice sweet. "We were just... bonding."
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