"Thank you for the meal…"
Rumi Tsurumi sat primly on a built-in chair at the FM convenience store, clasping her hands and bowing slightly to the empty bento and pudding containers before her.
"Here, wipe your mouth."
Kagura tore open a complimentary wet wipe, reaching to clean the corner of "Miru Hasukawa's" lips. But after a fleeting touch, she snatched the wipe, edging back to clean herself, maintaining distance.
"Phew…" Noting her wariness, Kagura refrained from actions that might be misconstrued. Propping his chin on his left hand, elbow on the table, he gazed at her delicate profile. "Is convenience store food really enough? Big brother could treat you to something nicer."
"My mom said never follow strangers who say that—especially men." Rumi glanced sidelong at him, wiping her lips meticulously. "So, this is fine. I don't want to owe you too much."
"Is that so? Want a drink?"
Kagura shrugged, unfazed.
"No… Mom said don't take drinks from strangers."
"Hey—" Kagura chuckled, pointing to the refrigerated drink shelf. "You want one, don't you? I won't touch it—you pick, I'll pay. How's that?"
"Hm…"
Rumi hesitated.
"Could've grabbed one earlier. They're cheap."
"Your… name—?"
Rumi turned to him, leaning back slightly, legs apart but hands pressing her skirt's hem—a childlike pose.
Even without her hands, her safety shorts ensured no exposure. "My name? Just call me Kagura." He snapped his fingers.
"Kagura…? Sounds like a girl's name."
Rumi frowned, tilting her head.
Like Sawamura-Spencer-Kagura's name? But he's definitely not that Kagura… Rumi wasn't his fan, but he was her role model.
Since age four, she'd studied piano, hearing of Chiba's "perfect pitch" prodigy, Sawamura-Spencer-Kagura. Her mom urged her to emulate him, and early on, Rumi progressed swiftly, earning praise. But lately, she'd hit a plateau.
Meanwhile, Kagura won a national championship soon after middle school and claimed the Chopin International Piano Competition at fifteen. Her idol felt increasingly distant, leaving Rumi overwhelmed.
She'd seen him on TV—elegant, charismatic. No way was this punk the same person.
Last year, her mother, a dean at Sobu High, mentioned Kagura attended there.
But Rumi was ready to quit piano, even skipping costly lessons.
"Hey, your mom taught you a lot, but not to avoid judging names? If mine's weird, yours sounds like 'Look here!'"
Kagura was right—MiRo in Japanese mimicked "look" or "see."
"Ugh, sorry…" Rumi slid off the chair, dusting her skirt, licking lips dry from her meal, and pointing to the drink shelf. "Can I choose?"
"Go ahead, but no alcohol~" Kagura grinned, thinking he wasn't one to talk.
Legal drinking age was twenty; at seventeen, he'd had a few sips—pot calling the kettle black. "What kind of elementary kid drinks alcohol…?"
Rumi muttered, scampering to the fridge, squatting to grab a small "Rakuten" water bottle, and darting to the counter.
Kagura waited. The clerk eyed him oddly, as if he were a loli-abducting creep. Kagura swiped his Passmo card, saying, "After you drink, I'll take you home. It's dangerous for a kid alone at night."
"Hm…"
Rumi clutched the cap without thanking him.
The clerk relaxed, abandoning thoughts of calling the police.
This guy looks like a punk, but he's decent.
"Thank you for your patronage~"
Kagura and Rumi exited to the clerk's cheerful send-off and the automatic door's jingle.
The sky was pitch-black, roads nearly empty of cars and late passersby—a typical quiet night in less-bustling Chiba.
At the street corner, Kagura hailed a taxi while Rumi sipped her water. Taxis were scarce, mostly occupied. After a while, he crossed his arms, exasperated.
"…" Rumi, unhurried, capped her bottle. "By the way, Kagura, don't you have anything better to do? Playing hero for an elementary girl at night?"
"Isn't Golden Week for relaxing? Nothing to do is normal. But you, piano lessons during Golden Week? That's tough."
"You know, a holiday lesson costs a fortune." Rumi pouted, almost bragging.
"Knowing it's pricey, you still skipped?"
Kagura smirked, amused.
"Ugh…" Rumi flushed, eyes darting aside awkwardly. "I didn't want to go… Mom forced me."
"So, broke and too scared to go home, you loitered near the studio? You have no idea how dangerous that was."
"Don't talk like I'm a lost kid," Rumi fiddled with her bow, mumbling, "I'm not a child, and I wasn't lost."
"Oh? Adults own their mistakes. Skipping class means facing a scolding. Go home, apologize—that's grown-up."
"Ugh…" Rumi muttered, covering her ears, glaring up. "I just realized you're annoying, Kagura."
"My bad~" Kagura shrugged, unbothered.
"But…" Rumi lowered her hand, glancing right, whispering, "You bought me dinner, pudding, and water. I should thank you… Thanks."
"No big deal. A cop could've done the same. But standing alone, getting hit on? That was seriously risky. Those guys could've done anything."
"From an outsider's view, aren't you hitting on me now? A creep hitting on an elementary girl."
Rumi tilted her head, left eye squinting, stifling a smile.
"What can I say?" Kagura thumped his chest. "Not all heroes wear underwear outside."
"That's no hero—just a plain pervert." Rumi's face soured.
"Tch, generation gap. Superman jokes don't land anymore?"
"Means nothing… You're not that old, so stop talking like an uncle."
"Guess it's dead. Fine," Kagura dropped it, grinning. "One thing I'm curious about."
"What?"
"Why was Miss Hasukawa penniless, no phone or wallet, standing there? Your mom's okay with that?"
"Ugh…" Rumi squirmed, toying with her fingers, toes grinding the ground, embarrassed. "I don't have a phone, didn't bring money. My student ID and transit card were in my bag… and I lost my new bag yesterday."
In Japan, transit cards like Passmo or Suica work at convenience stores, stations, and many shops, not just for transport. With a card, going out without cash is fine, and loss is capped.
"So you really couldn't go home…"
"No transit card, how do I get back, BA~KA?" Rumi teased, tiptoeing.
"Who's the BA~KA who lost a bag with her ID and card?"
"Ugh… You never lost stuff as a kid?"
"Nope. Don't let my look fool you—I was a prodigy."
"…"
Rumi scanned his outfit, lips twitching, thinking, Prodigy turned street punk?
"Point is, your mom's probably frantic."
"Who knows…"
Rumi's tone was firm, but worry flickered across her face.
Finally, Kagura flagged an empty taxi. He opened the door for Rumi, tapped the driver's window, and handed over a 50,000-yen note. "Take this girl where she needs to go. Keep the change as a tip."
"Oh… okay." The driver took the cash, glancing at Rumi in the back. "But, miss, where are you headed this late?"
"I…" Rumi hesitated, eyeing the unfamiliar male driver, then looked pleadingly at Kagura. He reopened the back door, leaned in, and patted her head. "You remember your address clearly?"
"I memorized it in kindergarten. Don't treat me like an idiot…" Rumi mumbled, shy. Kagura smiled, starting to close the door, but she grabbed his sleeve, looking aside, "Kagura… aren't you taking me home?"
"Uh… You've been wary of me, so I figured you'd be fine in a taxi. Or… you trust me to escort you?"
"I…"
Rumi bit her lip, hesitant.
Kagura didn't know Rumi was ostracized at school. She'd tried escaping isolation but failed, losing the ability to seek help. Self-conscious, timid, and scared of rejection, saying "please take me" was daunting.
"Alright, I'll take you home."
Kagura offered, sensing her struggle.
"Um… then… get in…"
Rumi patted the empty seat beside her, head bowed.
Kagura climbed in, telling the driver, "Fifty thousand should cover her trip and mine, right? All in Chiba."
"Should be fine, barring surprises."
"Sorry… for making you spend more."
Rumi curled up, fidgeting with her fingers, anxious.
He's a punk, right? Decent, but still a punk… Owing him so much, what if he takes me somewhere shady…?
She stole wary glances at him.
"No biggie. Just so we're clear, Miss Hasukawa, I only bought you dinner—no physical contact. Don't go telling your mom I'm the bad guy keeping you out."
Kagura raised an eyebrow.
"…Don't worry. Scolding or punishment, I'll take it. I won't mention you."
"No, no, just tell the truth. I'm not asking your mom for the fare. Don't be scared, and don't make stuff up."
"I know that much…"
Rumi turned away, a hint of tsundere in her tone.
After she gave the address, the taxi sped off. Kagura gazed out, tapping his right leg with his index finger, as if counting seconds, watching blurred shop signs blend into streaks of light.
Rumi relaxed, exhaustion from wandering all day hitting hard after eating. Sleepy but too cautious to doze, she checked landmarks periodically.
To fight sleep, she nudged Kagura's elbow. "You said you're on Golden Week. Got a real job?"
Service jobs don't get statutory holidays, just scheduled days off. To Rumi, Kagura's flashy look screamed "no steady job."
"No job, no Golden Week? Apologize to workers everywhere."
Rumi's question betrayed her misjudging his age, but it made sense—high schoolers don't usually sport yellow hair and chuunibyou outfits.
"Sorry… Wait, why should I apologize?" Rumi grumbled, poking his arm. "So, you live nearby?"
"Nope, just heading home from a friend's."
"Friend's house…"
Rumi repeated, voice tinged with envy. Kagura caught her lonely expression.
Does she have no friends?
Even Nao, with her near-permanent poker face, was lively at eleven or twelve, emotions plain. Rumi didn't seem to be faking.
"How many friends do you have, Kagura?"
"Hm… Four or five casual ones, five or six close ones. Why?"
"Nothing. Must be nice having so many~"
Her last words dripped with sarcasm.
Kagura didn't know why, but Rumi clammed up after that. He didn't press, staying quiet until they reached her destination.
The taxi entered a quiet residential area, homes lit, porch lights glowing for late returners, streetlamps every few meters illuminating nameplates.
"Here's fine."
Rumi stopped the driver in front of a large Japanese-style mansion.
Kagura glanced back, spotting "Hasukawa" carved boldly on the nameplate.
Miru Hasukawa… Probably her real name. Just sounds a bit odd.
If he were her parent, he'd have chosen "Miu" over "Miru." Hasukawa Miu—much prettier.
In truth, the mansion was 400-500 meters from Rumi's actual home. She used "Hasukawa" as a fake surname because her former best friend, Miu Hasukawa, lived here—a precaution against a strange man.
Sadly, Miu had joined the others in shunning Rumi.
Rumi stepped out, bowing to Kagura. "Thank you so much. Can I really go home now?"
"Go, go. Oh, want my contact? If you're in trouble, big brother can help~"
Kagura dangled a business card from his wallet.
"No need. Haven't I caused enough trouble?"
Rumi pursed her lips, nodding insincerely before shutting the door.
She stood before "her" gate, waving as Kagura signaled the driver to head toward his home. At the intersection, the taxi turned, continuing on.
When the taillights vanished, Rumi sighed, reluctantly touching Miu's family nameplate, feeling its coldness, then letting go, clenching her fists, head bowed.
Hate you, Miu. You're the worst! My best friend, yet you betrayed me first. Liar! Die, die, die!
Her teeth ground audibly.
But seconds later, her shoulders slumped, and she wiped a tear. "Fine, I won't curse you. Can't we make up…? Breaking promises is so childish."
No one answered.
It was late, and someone at home worried for her. Wiping tears, Rumi left her ex-friend's gate, heading to her real home.
Ding-ling~~
A melodic bell chimed behind her.
The sound startled Rumi on the dark path. She spun around—nothing but the cold glow of the "Hasukawa" nameplate under the porch light. "Misheard…?"
Reassuring herself, she patted her chest, hurrying off.
Three minutes after she left, a faint bell rang again. A delicate, ethereal figure materialized before the Hasukawa mansion.
She wore a striking black furisode kimono, adorned with dense cherry, plum, and morning glory patterns from left shoulder to right hem. Elegant wisteria vines stretched from sleeve middles to ends, green leaves dotting the vibrant floral clusters, tempering the garment's opulence with serene hues.
Black outside, red within, the fluttering sleeves hinted at blood. A golden sash cinched her slender waist, adorned with red cords and pink brocade, a blood-lotus emblem exuding a cursed, lethal aura.
Ding-ling~
A small bell on her red-corded sash chimed again.
Her knee-length black hair didn't sway with the breeze, rippling instead with an otherworldly rhythm.
The girl raised a jade-like hand, pressing fingertips to the cool "Hasukawa" nameplate.
Closing her emerald eyes, she bowed slightly, red hair-ties swaying.
When she opened them, the green had vanished, replaced by blood-red malice.
"Hasukawa… all must die!"
She clasped her hands, and a strange energy enveloped the mansion, like an invisible dome.
A barrier—between this world and the next, life and death.
Her task done, she turned, stepping ten paces in one stride. Her lower half dissolved into colorful dust, then her entire form scattered, like a rainbow statue eroded by a breeze.
Back to Kagura: no more bells rang on his way home.
But bells aside, a bombshell awaited.
At his door stood Nao Hayasaka, opening it. In the hall, Nao greeted him in her signature maid outfit.
Well, she always wore that.
"You two…?" Kagura stepped in, suppressing excitement, addressing the similarly maid-clad Ai Hayasaka. "Ai, your training's done?"
"No, sir. I'm dressed like this at Mother's request."
Ai, her blonde ponytail tied left, bowed humbly, stepping back to a "safe" distance.
"Then…?"
Kagura met Nao's eyes, puzzled. Ai closed the mansion's front door. Nao, deferential, drew a creamy-yellow postcard from her apron's embroidered pocket, presenting it with both hands, bowing.
"Uh… let me see."
Kagura took the postcard, featuring Blenheim Palace. Flipping it, he recognized his mom Sayuri's handwriting:
[To Kagura: Forgive Mom's sudden departure. It's about your marriage, so I'm off to England to discuss with their parents. That said, I didn't tell you on purpose~ Stay home during Golden Week, don't fight with Eriri or Qiong.
Mom will handle everything—trust me!
I'll be gone three weeks to a month, also networking in England. While I'm away, Nao will take my role as your personal maid, supervising you. A driver will be arranged for weekdays; Nao drives on holidays. Enjoy life.
Love, Mom]
"Miss Nao…?"
Kagura eyed her near-identical face to Ai's, chuckling wryly.
Nao's skin was fairer than Ai's, her European heritage stronger, a half-blood like Kagura. Two centimeters taller, her eyes lighter, akin to Qiong's, her face slightly rounder—not chubby, but aesthetically pleasing, complementing her ear-length, side-parted hair.
Other details? Kagura only recalled her nude form from seventeen years ago (he'd nursed from her).
He should be pale too, but lacking estrogen, he wasn't as fair as them.
"For now, forgive my presumption in taking Madam's role as your personal maid. You'll oversee household affairs, with my assistance."
Nao, having seen him read, stepped back, hands clasped at her abdomen, bowing deeply—a nod to him as head of the house.
Ai mirrored her, bowing silently.
"No need for formalities. Stand up."
Nao's deep bow pressured Kagura.
"Yes."
Both straightened, facing him.
"Mother's Day is in a week, and Mom's off to England… Ugh, what now? My gift's wasted."
Kagura waved the postcard, rolling his eyes, sidestepping Nao.
"Oh, right, Mother's Day!" Ai perked up, rushing to hug Nao's left arm, eyes sparkling, cooing, "Mommy~, what gift do you want? What food?"
"Ai, calm down. You're too casual—Master Kagura's right there. This is why you're retraining…"
"Ehh, he doesn't mind~ It's home, not public. No one's watching, it's fine~"
Ai bounced gleefully.
Normally, Kagura wouldn't care, but today… Ai was flaunting her mom like a smug seal. Damn, who doesn't have a mom?
Fuck, Sayuri, why skip Mother's Day for abroad?!
"You're hopeless," Nao rubbed Ai's head, smiling. "Mommy needs nothing. Your love is enough."
"Wahhh~~~"
Ai, flushed, dove into her arms.
Kagura, watching this filial scene, clicked his tongue, arms crossed, sourly. "Both Hayasakas, I'm stressing over Mother's Day, and you're flaunting your bond? Rubbing it in?"
"See? Master Kagura's upset."
Nao teased, pushing Ai away.
Ai, still flushed, switched to her poker face. "Then, Master, fly to England for Madam's Mother's Day."
"So you and Nao can have a mother-daughter holiday? Nice try."
"Tch…" Ai muttered, turning in Nao's arms. "Busted?"
"Enough. You're still training. To your room. Miss Nao, follow me."
"Yesss~~~"
Ai drawled, miffed at the forced separation.
"No need for honorifics. Just my name. Respectful titles make me uneasy."
Nao followed politely.
"You're my teacher and former wet nurse. Treating you like a maid suddenly? I can't do it."
Kagura scratched his head, sheepish.
Her "teacher" role was teaching him combat.
"Nonsense. Treat me as you do Ai. Mother and daughter are no different. Our family serves the Spencers by duty—don't mind it."
Nao's excessive courtesy made him squirm.
From the first-floor hall to his third-floor room, Kagura entered first. Nao locked the door, standing by it, hands at her abdomen, head bowed, awaiting orders like Ai.
Three meters away, near his bed, Kagura stood, left arm across his torso, right hand on his chin, sizing her up. Nao, meeting his gaze, smiled, straightened, and posed confidently.
"Ahem…" Kagura rubbed his jaw. "Can I try giving orders to get used to it?"
"Of course—any order. Please command freely." Nao curtsied slightly.
"As a personal maid, loyalty is paramount. Answer my questions honestly," Kagura paced, hands behind back. "First, is Mom really in England?"
"Yes."
"She won't be back for Mother's Day?"
"Yes."
"…" Kagura paused, glancing back, resuming. "Do you want a Mother's Day holiday with Ai?"
"No."
"??? You don't want a break?"
Kagura stopped.
"As your assigned maid, you're my priority."
"If I gave you Mother's Day off with Ai?"
"I'd be delighted but urge you not to."
"Why?"
"You needn't consider our feelings. A wise master inspires awe. Too lenient, and authority wanes."
"…That's brutally real."
Kagura's eyes twitched, recalling Ai's jabs.
"Fine…" He faced her, standing tall. "Sing a song."
Nao launched into a Taylor Swift tune, her voice so spot-on Kagura half-thought she was Swift. After thirty seconds, he waved her off, and she stopped, resuming her gentle smile.
"Tch…" Kagura pondered, extending his right hand, palm up. "Hold my hand."
Nao grasped it tenderly with both hands, stroking it like a lover's. Her well-kept hands, spared labor (even driving with gloves), were silky from fingertips to wrists. Her pale-pink manicure suited her; Kagura preferred it over Ai's greenish nails.
"Too obedient—it's unnerving…"
Kagura withdrew his hand, goosebumps rising.
"Would you prefer I be stricter privately?" Nao retracted her hands, half-covering her lips, chuckling. "Like an arrogant maid roleplay?"
"…Don't tease me."
Kagura groaned, clutching his head.
"Hehehe…" Nao's eyes crinkled, then she resumed her smile. "Any more orders?"
"Can I ask something personal?"
"You're too polite. A maid has no secrets or 'personal' matters before her master."
"…Alright, here goes."
"Go ahead."
Nao extended a hand.
"How often do you sleep with your husband? When was the last time?"
Kagura knew Nao's husband, Masato Hayasaka, was a servant Sayuri brought, now managing Chiba's Imperial Okura Hotel as GM.
"After twenty-five, roughly every three or four months, maybe two or three times. Now, barely once a year. Last was New Year's, twice. It's a wife's duty, and I strive to be a good wife and mother."
Nao blinked, answering without hesitation.
"How do you prevent pregnancy? Or do you?"
"Of course. Masato always uses condoms. At my age, pregnancy would be mortifying."
"Only him?"
"So far, yes."
"Do you think I'm rude, asking bedroom questions right off?"
"Not at all. Young men your age asking such things doesn't surprise me. Don't worry—your father ordered me to be responsible for you, so I won't report anything to your mother."
Nao smiled, her gaze piercing.
Kagura felt seen through. "Is that so… One more…" He leaned close, locking eyes. "Have you slept with my father?"
"I'm not charming enough to tempt Lord Leonard. Besides…" Nao's eyes flicked aside, murmuring, "You know he prefers flat-chested women, so…"
"Oh, okay, stop there."
Kagura, head throbbing, waved her off.
Qiong's mom was flat too… But Nao? He recalled nursing from her—her chest seemed ample, maybe D or a large C with a push-up bra. Unlike Ai, hers weren't padded.
Kagura moved to his chair, twirling a letter-opener for wax seals. Gripping it, he lunged at Nao's face—she blinked, unmoving.
The blade stopped just shy of her eye.
"Resist, damn it."
Kagura tossed the knife to the desk, rolling his eyes.
"Oh my, a maid must trust her master utterly. I believe you'd never harm me without cause."
Nao's charming smile sent a shiver through him.
Ai obeyed him, sure, but Nao? Her sudden compliance felt… off. He couldn't adjust.