Rito slumped back onto the living room sofa, letting out a long sigh. His shopping bags sagged on the floor beside him, filled with clothes and odds and ends for Mashiro.
"…Man, that was exhausting," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. The memory of Mikan's sly grin and Mashiro's blunt stares inside the clothing shop still haunted him. Just recalling Haruna catching him in the middle of it all made his stomach twist with embarrassment.
'Why does every simple errand turn into a rom-com event flag…?'
From down the hall came the faint sound of furniture scraping. Earlier, Mikan had dug up an old study desk she'd kept stored away and helped Mashiro set it up in her room. Once done, Mashiro had returned immediately to her work—sketching, drawing, and slipping into that strange trance-like focus that seemed to consume her whole being.
Rito leaned his head against the back of the sofa, staring at the ceiling. "She really doesn't waste time, huh… Already back at it again."
Mikan appeared from the kitchen with a dish towel draped over her shoulder. "That's just Mashiro-chan. Once she gets into work mode, it's like nothing else exists."
Rito gave a wry smile. "Yeah, I noticed. She didn't even look tired after everything."
Mikan raised an eyebrow. "Unlike you?"
"Hey, shopping with you was a battlefield," Rito shot back half-heartedly.
Mikan smirked, clearly satisfied that her little scheme had worn him out. She flopped down into an armchair opposite him. "Still, you managed to keep up. Not bad for Rito, huh!"
Rito groaned, covering his face with his hand. 'Not bad? More like completely traumatized…'
The house fell into a gentle silence, broken only by the faint scratching of a pen in Mashiro's room.
'Then I should also go back to my story…' Rito thought, dragging himself up from the sofa. His mind was already drifting toward outlines and dialogue beats as he slipped into his room.
Sitting at his desk, he pulled up the familiar blue overlay of his status window.
Writing Lv. 3 [52/300]
Manga Art Lv. 3 [5/300]
Charm Lv. 0 [5/10]
High School Study Lv. 2 [24/100]
Cooking Lv. 2 [9/100]
Learning Lv. 3 [0/300]
Tennis Lv. 5 [0/3000]
Dynamic Vision Lv. Max
Football Lv. 2 [26/100]
Cleaning Lv. 2 [15/100]
Identification Lv. 1 [1/10]
Rito leaned back in his chair, lips tugging into a bitter smile.
"Two years of sweating on the field, and football's still stuck at Level 2 with barely a quarter filled… And then…" His eyes flicked to the glaring [Tennis Lv. 5], his expression souring. "One casual run-in with a heroine from another anime, and suddenly I'm some sort of god-tier prodigy without ever holding a racket in my life."
He buried his face in his hands. "Isn't this way too unbalanced? Where's the justice in this system…? "
The glowing numbers didn't answer him.
Still, his gaze eventually returned to the Writing and Manga Art lines. Those were the ones that mattered most right now—his chosen path, his way to carve out something on his own instead of just leaning on broken cheat templates.
"Alright," he muttered, picking up his pencil again. "No shortcuts this time. If I'm going to write, it'll be through my own effort."
He opened his notebook, the faint words from yesterday staring back at him: "I will save you, no matter how many times it takes."
The phrase made his chest tighten a little, but he smiled nonetheless.
The clatter of dishes and the faint aroma of miso soup drifted from the kitchen. "Onii-chan!" Mikan called over her shoulder as she set the table. "Dinner's ready, but Mashiro-chan hasn't come out yet. Can you go get her?"
Rito paused mid-step, already sensing doom. "…Do I have to?"
"Yes."
Her flat reply left no room for negotiation. Rito let out a heavy sigh, dragging his feet down the hall. Here we go again. Please, just this once, don't let it turn into one of those situations…
He knocked lightly on the door. "Mashiro? Dinner's ready. You should come eat."
No answer.
Frowning, Rito slid the door open—and immediately froze.
Mashiro was there, seated by her brand-new desk… except her usual loose shirt had slipped off one shoulder, and her skirt had ridden halfway up her thighs as she leaned over her sketchpad. The dim lamplight traced the curve of her bare skin in a way that made his brain short-circuit.
Rito's eyes widened.
"Geh—!"
At that exact moment, Mashiro shifted to turn toward him, her amber eyes meeting his. The movement tugged the hem of her shirt further down, exposing the faint line of her bra strap.
Lucky pervert flag triggered.
"Ritooo?" Mashiro asked calmly, as if nothing was wrong.
Rito flailed, spinning halfway around to face the door. "I—I was just—! Dinner! It's ready! Mikan sent me to call you!"
His foot caught the corner of the rug. With a yelp, he stumbled forward—straight toward Mashiro.
The next second, his hand landed against the desk, his other palm bracing against her chair… but not before his forehead bumped lightly against her shoulder, leaving him practically hovering over her in an accidental kabedon position.
Silence.
Mashiro blinked at him once. "...Pervert."
Rito's soul nearly left his body. 'WHY does this always happen to me?! '
While Mashiro little commented more than just Mikan sneering. Leaving Rito stunned as he walked back jelly-like, while Mashiro followed him like a little wife behind Rito.
The next morning, Rito sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes. For some reason, his body felt restless, like his muscles were begging for movement. "Ugh… can't sleep anymore." He dragged himself out of bed and slipped into a tracksuit.
Stepping outside, the air was crisp, the streets still quiet in the early hour. He stretched a little, then started jogging down the familiar route.
At first, it was just a way to shake off the drowsiness. But after a few minutes, something clicked. His feet began falling into rhythm on their own, the pace smooth, his breathing steady.
This stride… the way my weight shifts, the arm swing… It feels natural, like I've done this training for years.
A faint memory brushed against his mind—the "Ei-chan template." Not just tennis techniques, but the daily drills, the running schedules, and even the stretching routines. His body remembered what his mind hadn't fully noticed.
And then—
[Ding!]
A screen flickered in his vision.
New Quest Unlocked!
Fitness Mission Lv. 1
Objective: Complete daily physical training (Run 3 km, 50 push-ups, 50 sit-ups, and 20 pull-ups).
Reward: +1 Stamina, +1 Strength, +1 Agility, [Skill: Basic Fitness Routine]
Rito stumbled mid-stride, nearly tripping. "You've got to be kidding me… it's like the system's my personal coach now."
Still, a grin tugged at his lips. 'Not bad,' He thought while making a dash.
Rito stepped back into the house, wiping the light sweat from his forehead with a towel. The slight soreness in his muscles was there, but instead of dragging him down, it felt… good. His body felt lighter, his breathing smoother, and his head clearer than ever.
'So this is what a system reward feels like… not just numbers, but a real difference.' He couldn't help but smile, the corners of his lips tugging upward.
As he rounded the corner into the living room, he froze.
Mikan was just coming out of her room, stretching, her hair messy from sleep. She was dressed in a loose, pale-pink pajama set, the thin fabric hanging slightly off her shoulders.
"Rito!!" she yawned before blinking in surprise. "Good morning—you're up so early."
Her voice carried a mix of sleepiness and surprise, but also warmth. She smiled at him, eyes crinkling in that soft way only siblings could share.
Rito blinked, caught completely off guard. "…M-Mikan?"
It took him a beat too long to realize he had been staring. The loose pajama top, the faint flush on her cheeks from just waking up—she looked unexpectedly cute.
And when Mikan noticed his stunned expression, her own cheeks flared pink. With a squeak, she tugged her top tighter around herself, trying to cover up. "W-What are you looking at, Baka!"
Rito flailed, waving his hands wildly. "N-Nothing! Absolutely nothing! I was just—uh—good morning!"
Mikan puffed her cheeks, glaring at him with that half-annoyed, half-embarrassed look. "You're hopeless… go take a shower before breakfast; you stink of sweat."
Rito could only groan, dragging himself toward the bathroom with a muttered, "So much for my fresh start…"