The dinner finished peacefully, at least by their standards. No food was thrown, and they kept the verbal sparring to a minimum.
Makoto's suggestion of karaoke was immediately and violently shot down by Yuna, who declared that she wasn't in the mood to listen to Ayane's tone-deaf screeching. So they found themselves back at the apartment, that warm, comfortable lull of a full meal settling over them.
"I guess we should do another sleepover to finish the damn costumes, Ayane, Mika," Makoto declared with a yawn, already collapsing onto the couch. He turned to the quietest member of their party. "Do you want to stay, Mafuyu-nee? Or I can drive you home."
The question hung there. Go home to that quiet, empty apartment that smelled of fear and another man's anger. Or stay here, in this chaotic asylum.
Mafuyu looked at the three girls.
Yuna was glaring at her, but it wasn't hostile, more like a challenge. An invitation to a fight she knew Mafuyu wouldn't win, but one she was now allowed to join. Ayane was giving her a lazy, encouraging thumbs-up, her usual goofy grin stretched across her face.
And Mika just smiled, watching her with those calculating eyes. "You should stay," Mika said. "We have plenty of room." She looked at Makoto with a mischievous glint. "His belly makes a very good pillow."
Mafuyu looked down at her hands, which were twisting in her lap. She took a breath. "I don't have a change of clothes." It was a flimsy excuse. Everyone in the room knew it.
Ayane laughed. "Honey, please. I've been sleeping in his old, sweaty band t-shirts for weeks. You'll be fine." She winked. "And besides, I think he'd like to see you in his clothes."
The three of them turned to look at him. The choice had been made, Mafuyu wasn't going home. He could see the terrified hope in Mafuyu's eyes, and he couldn't let her go back. Not tonight, maybe not ever.
"Well, I forgot you were still staying at that man's place," Makoto said gently. "Stay here. I can go with you to collect your stuff tomorrow."
"You can live with us until you find a new place. Our house has a spare room, my parents won't mind. They're not home often anyway." He pulled her in, a comforting gesture. "Don't worry about clothes, you can use Yuna's spare sleepwear." Then came his familiar, lewd chuckle. "Though the bottom part might be a bit tight."
Mafuyu just stared at him, her mouth slightly open. The tears that had been threatening all night finally broke free. These weren't tears of fear or sadness, but tears of relief. "Okay," she whispered. "Okay, I will stay."
Ayane raised her water glass. "To the harem king," she mouthed silently. "Expanding his kingdom."
Yuna, for once in her life, was speechless. She stared at Makoto, her face a storm of conflicting emotions. There was her usual possessive fury, a flash of jealousy, and then something else that looked like empathy.
"Fine," she muttered. "Mafuyu-nee can stay for a little while." She glared at Mafuyu. "But you're not touching my unicorn pajamas."
Mika's smile never wavered. "Of course she can stay," she said. "We take care of our own." She looked at Mafuyu. "And don't worry about Yuna's pajamas. I'm sure Makoto'd be happy to let you borrow one of his shirts."
Makoto yawned and stretched before walking back to his room. "We'll regroup at 10 PM in the living room, then?"
The apartment settled into an odd sort of domesticity. The adrenaline had faded, replaced by something calmer. As Makoto retreated to his room, the door closed with a soft click. From the living room came muffled sounds: the hum of the sewing machine, low voices, occasional laughter of the girls.
===
An hour later, his door creaked open.
Mafuyu stood there. She'd showered, her long, black hair still damp and clinging to her neck. She was wearing a pair of his old, oversized gray sweatpants, the ones Yuna called his "sad, lumpy potato" suit, and one of his faded, hole-riddled band t-shirts. The same outfit Mika had worn before.
He'd seen it on Mika, but on Mafuyu, with her softer curves, it hit different. She didn't say anything; she just stood in the doorway with her arms crossed, a small, tentative smile on her face.
"They said you wouldn't mind," She looked down at his feet, hiding her blush. "It smells like you," she added, so quiet he could barely hear it.
"Yeah, I... wouldn't mind, you look great in that," he said, eyes blatantly traveling from top to bottom. "The back part looks as tight as I expected." He chuckled as he pulled her into the living room.
The living room had been cleaned up. The chaos of fabric and thread was neatly contained in one corner. The futon was laid out with a mountain of pillows and blankets piled in the middle. The lights were dim, the TV was on, and Makoto's Nintendo Switch was already set up with Super Smash Bros. Ultimate.
Yuna and Ayane were on the floor, controllers in hand, competitive fire in their eyes. Mika was curled up on the couch with a blanket wrapped around her. They all looked up as Makoto entered, and he caught their intake of breath as they took in the sight of Mafuyu-nee.
"Oh," Ayane said appreciatively. "The potato suit strikes again. He really needs to burn that thing. Or maybe not."
"You look ridiculous," Yuna said, but there was no real heat in it. Something flickered in her eyes. Acceptance, maybe. "Now grab a controller. I'm going to kick your ass."
Mika patted the space on the couch beside her. "There's a spot right here."
Mafuyu stood there for a moment, her cheeks bright red. Then she smiled, it was a real, genuine, happy smile this time. She took a controller and sat on the floor, right between Yuna and Ayane. "I've never played this before," she said quietly. "You'll have to teach me."
"Oh, we will," Yuna said, a predatory grin spreading across her face. "We'll be very thorough."
Makoto sat next to Mika, picked up the controller, and selected his main, Fox. "Don't bully the newbie, you all," he chuckled. "Don't worry, I will protect you, Mafuyu-nee."
"Protect her?" Ayane let out a sharp laugh. She selected Samus with a confident flick of her thumb. "Honey, in this house, it's every woman for herself."
"He's right, Yuna-chan," Mika said softly. She chose Peach, a character as deceptively sweet and vicious as she was. "We should be good sports." Her eyes, however, were sparkling with competitive fire that promised anything but.
Yuna scoffed as she picked Pikachu. "Fine," she said. "I won't bully her."
Mafuyu, who had been staring at the colorful character select screen, looking completely lost, finally picked a character. She chose Isabelle, the cute, cheerful dog secretary from Animal Crossing. "Oh," she said, her voice small. "She's so cute."
The match began, and then it quickly turned into a bloodbath.
Yuna and Ayane immediately went after each other, a whirlwind of electric attacks and missile blasts. Makoto and Mika were locked in a surprisingly intense battle on the other side of the stage.
And Mafuyu was just running around, picking up items with childlike wonder, getting hit by stray projectiles. She wasn't fighting, just running around. And it looked like she was having the time of her life.
"Look!" she squealed. "I got a PokéBall! What does it do?"
She threw it. A Snorlax appeared. It immediately used Body Slam on Yuna, who had just been about to land a finishing blow on Ayane.
The entire room went silent. Then Yuna let out a sound that was a cross between a scream and a sob. "MY BIG BRO'S POKEMON!" she wailed. "USED AGAINST ME!"
Makoto clutched his stomach, laughing until tears streamed from his eyes. "See?" he choked out. "This game is perfectly balanced."
He looked around at the chaos, at the women who had become his life, and a wicked idea sparked in his mind. He leered at Ayane, then at Mika and Yuna. "Wanna up the stakes?" he said. "One piece of clothing off when you're knocked out."
Ayane's eyes lit up with manic glee. "Strip Smash?" she crowed. "Fuck yes! I have been waiting for this moment my entire life!"
"Disgusting," Yuna muttered, but a slow grin was spreading across her face. The sting of her Snorlax-induced defeat was already forgotten, replaced by a new, more thrilling challenge. "You're all a bunch of perverts. But fine, I'm in. And I'm not losing."
Mika gave a small, elegant shrug. "It seems a little juvenile," she said. "But if it makes you happy, darling..." A serene smile graced her lips. "I'm a very good sport."
Makoto turned to Mafuyu, his expression softening. "You don't have to join that silly bet if you don't want to, Mafuyu-nee."
All eyes turned to her. She was staring at the screen, confused. "Strip Smash?" she repeated quietly.
"It's a game," he explained gently. "Every time you lose a life, you take off a piece of clothing." He gave her a warm smile. "But if you don't want to, you don't have to join. You can just play normally."
Mafuyu looked from his smiling face to the three fierce women sitting around her. She took a breath. "Okay, sounds... fun," she whispered. "I'll play."