Ichika led Yoichi down to the first floor, her fingers still wrapped around his wrist.
"I know what you're thinking," she said over her shoulder. "You're calculating how soon you can escape this madhouse, right?"
Yoichi kept his expression neutral. "You don't know what I'm thinking."
"Maybe not exactly," Ichika admitted with a sly smile. "But people are pretty simple once you learn to read them. Trust me, I've had years of practice with those four."
The dining area came into view—a long glass table overlooking the Tokyo skyline, now twinkling with countless lights against the darkening sky. Four identical faces turned toward them, each wearing a completely different expression.
Ichika released Yoichi's wrist and clapped her hands together. "Perfect timing! I've had the most brilliant idea to welcome our new family member!"
The girl with the butterfly ribbons rolled her eyes. "Whatever scheme you've cooked up, count me out."
"It's not a scheme, it's a game!" Ichika's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Yoichi here has bet that he can figure out who is who by the end of dinner."
Yoichi shot her a cold glare. "I never agreed to—"
Ichika steamrolled right over his objection. "The rules are simple: no one uses their real names during dinner. Let's see how smart the new guy really is."
The girl with the green ribbon jumped from her seat, nearly knocking over a water glass. "A game! I love games!" She pointed at Yoichi with competitive fire in her eyes. "You're going down, new guy!"
The sister with red glasses adjusted them nervously, sitting up even straighter in her chair. "Ichika, this is completely inappropriate! We should be having a proper welcome dinner with formal introductions, not subjecting our guest to... social experiments!"
The quiet one with headphones around her neck simply looked down at her empty plate, seemingly detached from the chaos unfolding around her.
Butterflies crossed her arms, scowling. "What a stupid idea. And why do you get to make bets with him? If anyone's putting this freeloader in his place, it's me."
"Because I'm the oldest," Ichika replied with a wink. "And the prettiest. And the smartest."
"You wish." Butterflies pushed her chair back with enough force to make it screech against the floor. "I'm checking on dinner." She stormed toward the kitchen, pink hair swinging behind her.
Ah… the cook. That's Nino then.
The green-ribbon girl bounced in her seat. "I'm gonna win this game! Wait, what am I winning exactly?"
"Nothing, because there is no game," Yoichi stated flatly.
Ichika waggled her eyebrows at him. "Scared you'll lose?"
Before he could respond, Nino returned carrying a large pot that filled the room with an incredible aroma that made Yoichi's stomach growl involuntarily. She set it down with a thud and began ladling generous portions onto everyone's plates.
When she reached Yoichi, her movements became deliberately rough, sloshing a bit of sauce onto the pristine tablecloth. She placed the heaping plate before him with narrowed eyes.
"Don't think this means I like you," she muttered.
Ichika immediately leaned over and dipped her spoon into Yoichi's portion.
"What are you—" Nino started.
Ichika took a bite, chewed thoughtfully, and gave an exaggerated thumbs-up. "No poison! Good news, Yoichi-kun, you'll live to see tomorrow."
Nino's face flushed crimson. She slammed a glass of water down next to Yoichi's plate.
"Are you insane? Do you have any idea how much saffron costs? I would never waste premium ingredients on poisoning some... some random guy!"
Check. Yoichi kept his face impassive while mentally tallying information. The aggressive one who cooks and gets flustered easily. That's definitely Nino. And Ichika I already know. Two identified.
The sister with glasses picked up her spoon with precise movements. "The curry smells wonderful. Thank you for preparing it."
"Yeah! Nino's curry is the BEST!" the green-ribbon girl exclaimed before stuffing a massive spoonful into her mouth.
And that's three. The energetic one who can't control her volume has to be Yotsuba.
Ichika caught his eye across the table and gave him a knowing smile, like they were sharing a private joke.
Yoichi took his first bite of curry.
The flavor hit him like a physical force. Rich, smoky, with a heat that built slowly rather than overwhelming the palate. It was the kind of food that transported you somewhere else—somewhere warmer, safer. Curry had been his mother's specialty on the rare days when she felt well enough to cook.
"My compliments to the chef," he said quietly, not looking up from his plate.
A startled silence fell over the table. Nino jerked as if she'd been shocked, her cheeks flushing again, this time for a different reason.
She turned away sharply with a "Hmph!" but not before Yoichi caught the small, pleased smile she tried to hide.
"Mi—" Nino began, then stopped abruptly to tap the girl wearing glasses. "—pass the salt, please."
Amateur.
The target of her address: the one in glasses. So that's Miku. Which means the quiet variable with the headphones, by process of elimination, must be Itsuki.
He glanced at Ichika, who was watching the exchange with laser focus. Her shoulders had tensed for a fraction of a second when Nino almost slipped.
Four down, one to go. The quiet one has to be Itsuki. This is too easy.
The rest of the meal passed in a strange mixture of silence and forced conversation. Yotsuba chatted enthusiastically about school clubs, while the glasses-wearing Mike occasionally interjected with corrections about school regulations. Itsuki remained silent beside him, while Nino kept shooting suspicious glances his way.
As they finished eating, Ichika placed her spoon down with dramatic flair. "So, dinner is over. The game is up." She leaned forward, resting her chin on her interlaced fingers. "Do you have your answer, Yoichi-kun?"
Yoichi felt a surge of confidence. This was pathetically simple. "I do."
"Excellent! Let's hear it then."
"Actually," he countered, "I want to change the bet."
"Oh?"
"If I get it right, the original bet is off. Instead, you have to do whatever I say, all day tomorrow."
The table fell silent.
Ichika recovered quickly, a dangerous light entering her eyes. "A bold move. I'll accept your change, with a modification." She leaned closer. "If you're right, I'll do whatever you want tomorrow, and I'll still give you one of my sisters' secrets as a bonus prize."
She paused, her smile turning predatory. "But if you're wrong... you have to do whatever I say for the entire weekend. Saturday and Sunday."
She extended her hand across the table. "Deal?"
Yoichi met her gaze steadily. He had them all figured out. This was a guaranteed win. He took her hand. "Deal."
Yoichi stood, drawing himself up to his full height. The satisfaction of victory hummed through his veins as he pointed to each sister in turn.
"You are Ichika," he said, pointing to the short-haired sister who had led him downstairs.
"You are Nino." He indicated the long-haired girl with butterfly ribbons who had cooked the meal.
"You are Yotsuba." His finger moved to the energetic girl with the green ribbon, who wiggled excitedly in her seat.
He paused dramatically, enjoying the tension. He pointed to the serious girl with glasses.
"You are Miku."
Finally, he turned to the quiet girl with headphones around her neck. "And you are Itsuki."
A heavy silence fell over the table. Ichika let out a long, theatrical sigh, slumping in her chair.
"Ah... well, I guess a deal's a deal..."
Yoichi allowed himself a smirk. "Feels good to be smart."
Ichika suddenly rose from her chair and walked around the table with deliberate, almost feline movements. She stopped directly behind him, leaning down until her lips nearly brushed his ear. The scent of her floral perfume hit him with unexpected force.
"I guess that was the deal... if you got it right," she whispered, her voice dropping to a husky register. "I'm yours for the day... whatever you want..."
A jolt of electricity shot down Yoichi's spine at her words and proximity.
Then she pulled back. The warmth vanished, replaced by an arctic chill. When he turned, her smile wasn't seductive anymore. It was the curtain call on a flawless performance.
"...Or I would be," she said, her voice now crisp and clear as a bell, "if you hadn't gotten it so spectacularly wrong."
Yoichi froze. "What?"
The girl with glasses stood up, removing her eyewear and shaking out her hair. "I'm Ichika," she said, smiling with the same predatory gleam.
The girl with headphones muttered. "And I'm Miku."
"What..." Yoichi's mind raced. "That's impossible. Nino called you Miku."
"No," the short-haired girl countered. "You thought Nino messed up when she didn't."
Yoichi stared at the five identical faces, now all wearing matching smirks of varying intensity.
Ichika leaned her head on Yoichi's shoulder. "So, about our bet. I believe you now owe me your entire weekend." She smiled sweetly. "I hope you didn't have plans."
"This was a setup," Yoichi growled.
"Of course it was," Nino said, rolling her eyes. "Did you really think you could waltz in here and outsmart us that easily?"
"Fine," he conceded. "You win this round."
The real Ichika smiled, a glint of genuine respect in her eyes. "Welcome to the family, Yoichi-kun. I have a feeling things are going to get very interesting around here."