I open my eyes slowly, with that heavy, warm feeling of having slept too well. The room is bathed in the soft morning light slipping through the gaps in the blinds, drawing golden stripes across the carpet. I'm still in the living room, on my parents' big sofa, and my face is… my face is buried between Natsuki-nee's breasts.
She's still deep asleep, hugging me like I'm a giant stuffed animal. One arm around my waist, the other under my neck, her legs tangled with mine. Her breathing is slow, warm against my hair, and every exhale smells of expensive vodka and deep sleep. She's wearing the same clothes from last night: the silver dress all wrinkled, one stocking torn, makeup smudged into dark shadows under her eyes. But even like this (asleep, short blonde hair a mess, mouth slightly open), she's still beautiful.
I try to move a little.
"Natsuki-nee…" I whisper, voice still hoarse from sleep. "Wake up… It's morning…"
She mumbles something unintelligible, pulls me tighter, and buries her face in my neck.
"…five more minutes…" she slurs, voice thick and sleepy. "…you smell so good… like… like vanilla and… and… home…"
"Natsuki-nee!" I insist, a little louder. "You need to shower! You still smell like alcohol! And I have to go to the hospital!"
She cracks one eye open (just a slit) and looks at me with full-on sleepy face.
"No… I'm so comfy… You stay right here… all cuddled up with me… like when we were little…"
I try to pull away, gently pushing against her chest with my hands, but it's useless. Natsuki is stronger than me even when she's asleep. Her arms wrap around me like steel bands, and every time I manage to move an inch, she drags me right back against her body.
"Let me go!" I protest, pouting. "I'm not your teddy bear!"
She smiles with her eyes closed, clearly pretending to be asleep.
"Mmm… my favorite teddy… my Mizuki-chan… don't go…"
And suddenly…
Knock knock knock!
Loud knocks on the front door.
I freeze.
"Natsuki-nee!" I whisper louder. "Someone's at the door!"
She groans, pulls the blanket over her head.
"Yell that nobody's home!" she mumbles, voice still drunk with sleep.
I sigh, resigned.
My parents must still be asleep upstairs; they got home late from the police station last night and went straight to bed.
Knock knock knock knock!
Louder.
I wriggle like a worm in Natsuki's arms, trying to free myself. First one leg slips out, then the other; I inch my way free while she mutters nonsense in her sleep:
"…no… mine… …Mizuki's mine… …five more minutes… …love you…"
Finally I escape, tumbling to the floor with a soft thud. I jump up quickly, straighten my oversized hoodie, and run barefoot to the door, heart pounding.
Whoever's out there keeps knocking.
And the only thing I can think is:
Please don't let it be the police again. Please let it be him. Please let it be Reiji.
I open the door, heart still racing from my dash from the sofa, and freeze for a second when I see who's on the other side.
Reika.
Dressed completely casually—something I almost never see her in: an oversized white sweater with a big pink heart in the center, the word "angel" embroidered below in cursive letters, sleeves so long they swallow her hands, light gray sweatpants with a drawstring, pristine white sneakers, and her black hair down, no ponytail, falling in perfect waves over her shoulders. She's carrying a small backpack over one shoulder and a paper bag from a famous bakery in the other hand. Her cheeks are a little flushed from the morning cold, and her violet eyes shine with a mix of nerves and affection.
Before I can say anything, I throw myself into hugging her.
"Reika-san!"
She lets out a soft giggle and hugs me back tightly, dropping the bag to the floor so she can wrap both arms around me.
"Mizuki-chan! Good morning! I brought breakfast!"
She's my closest friend now. After that whole night talking, crying, laughing, confessing everything… there are no walls between us anymore. It's like we were always meant to truly find each other.
I pull back a little, hands still on her shoulders.
"What are you doing here so early? Shouldn't you be at school?"
Reika smiles, a bit embarrassed.
"Another day of traffic chaos element. Teachers have been stuck on the highway since six a.m. They canceled all classes. So… I thought I'd come see you."
I smile so wide my cheeks hurt.
And then I notice movement behind her.
A girl taller than Reika, with long, straight black hair a bit messy, round glasses slipping down her nose, an oversized gray hoodie with a print of a sleeping cat and the words "leave me alone" in white letters, plaid pajama pants, and bunny-shaped house slippers. Her hands are buried in her hoodie pockets, shoulders hunched, face red as a tomato, avoiding my eyes at all costs.
I blink, confused.
"And… who's she?"
Reika turns slightly and gives the girl a gentle nudge forward.
"She's… she's the one who's been sending letters to your parents these past few days. Apologizing. Unsigned at first… but then she put her name."
Letters?
I remember perfectly what my parents mentioned: white envelopes with no return address, handwritten letters full of regret, begging forgiveness for "all the harm caused," promising to change, swearing it would never happen again.
The name at the end of the last letter was…
Akira!
My eyes widen a little.
I look at her again.
It's her.
Kurokawa Akira.
The same one who led the group that bullied me.
The same one who insulted me in the hallways, laughed at my bandages, made me feel small and broken every single day.
But now…
Now she's here, dressed like she just rolled out of bed, hair messy, no makeup, no attitude, no queen-of-the-school aura.
She's just… shaking.
And when Reika nudges her forward a bit more, Akira takes a hesitant step, glances up for a second, and immediately drops her gaze again.
"I'm… I'm so sorry, Hoshino…" she whispers, voice trembling. "Really… Everything I did to you… Everything I let happen to you… I have no excuse… I'm a piece of shit… A complete piece of shit…"
Her eyes fill with tears.
And I stand there in the doorway, heart pounding a thousand miles an hour, not knowing what to say, what to feel, what to do.
Because my biggest bully…
is here.
Asking for forgiveness.
I smile. A sweet, small, sincere smile—one I almost never give. I take her hands in mine, carefully, as if they were made of glass. Her fingers tremble; they're cold, and when my thumbs brush her palms I feel her whole body jolt. Her cheeks, already red, turn a deep crimson, almost feverish. Her eyes widen behind her glasses, and from her mouth spills a rush of jumbled, senseless words—a nervous torrent she can't control.
"I-I… I'm so sorry… I don't know how… how to really ask for forgiveness… because… because I was awful… a complete… a… I don't even know how to look you in the face… please… please…!"
"Akira," I whisper, gently squeezing her hands. "It's okay. I forgive you. Truly. Everything."
She freezes. Her lips tremble. The tears she'd been holding back begin to fall, one by one, silently down her cheeks.
"B-but… but I… I don't… don't deserve…!"
Reika, from behind her, clears her throat softly.
"Akira… you also have to confess the other thing."
Akira whips around as if Reika had poked her with a needle, eyes full of panic and fury.
"What?! No! Not now! Reika, please…!"
But Reika looks at her with that unshakable calm only she possesses.
"Now or never."
Akira swallows hard. She turns back to me. Her hands shake so violently in mine it almost hurts.
"Hoshino… Mizuki… I… I was… your biggest donor… on TwitCasting… KuroNeko_Chan… that was me."
The world stops.
My smile freezes.
My hands start to shake.
The memories crash over me like a tsunami: me in the purple wig, corset laced tight, smiling at the camera while reading her name over and over. Me striking obscene poses, saying "nyaa~" in a fake voice, thanking her for every donation while dying inside. Me touching myself for her, moaning her username, pretending to feel pleasure while tears burned my eyes.
My cheeks burn.
My hands pull away from hers as if they're on fire.
I drop my gaze to the floor, unable to look at her.
All the memories flood back at once: the purple lights, the donation chime, the private messages, the requests growing dirtier, more demanding. Everything I had to do for money. Everything she watched.
Everything she paid for.
The silence is so heavy I can almost hear my own heart breaking again.
But then… I take a deep breath.
And I look up.
I smile. A shy, trembling, but real smile.
"Come in," I say, voice low. "Please. Come inside."
Reika instantly returns the smile, relieved, and steps in with the bakery bag in hand.
Akira lingers in the doorway, eyes brimming with tears, face flushed with absolute shame.
"I'm… I'm sorry…" she whispers again.
I lower my head so I don't have to look directly at her—because it still hurts—but I let her pass.
She steps inside, shoulders hunched, as if expecting me to throw her out any second.
I close the door.
And I decide, once again…
to leave the past behind.
Even if it hurts.
Even if I tremble.
Even if it costs me everything.
Before I can utter a single word to break the awkward silence that has just settled in, Reika—who has already taken three steps toward the kitchen with the bakery bag in hand—stops dead in her tracks and slowly turns her head toward the sofa.
"Mizuki…? Who… is the woman sleeping on your sofa?"
I freeze.
The air rushes out of my lungs like someone just punched me in the stomach.
Natsuki!
I had completely forgotten about her.
She's exactly where I left her last night: sprawled haphazardly across the big sofa, one leg dangling off the edge, silver dress hiked up to mid-thigh, one arm draped over her face, short blonde hair a total mess. The empty vodka bottle is on the floor. The whole living room reeks of alcohol like an invisible cloud.
I rush over, nerves on edge, hands shaking.
"S-she's… she's Natsuki-nee! She's like my big sister! She came yesterday because… because she found out about everything and… and she was really worried and… and she stayed over! It's fine! She's totally trustworthy! Really!"
Reika pinches her nose with two fingers, face caught between amusement and horror.
"My God, Mizuki! It smells like someone opened an entire distillery in here! How much did she drink?"
I blush to the tips of my ears, embarrassment crushing me like a boulder.
"A-a lot…! She was really stressed…!"
And right at that moment, as if the universe is mocking me, Natsuki opens one eye, then the other, and slowly sits up on the sofa with that feline grace she has even when drunk.
She blinks several times, spots Reika and Akira standing in the middle of the living room, and lets out a sleepy but dramatic yell:
"Mizuki-chaaaaan! Some girls broke in to rob the house while we were sleeping!"
Reika's eyes go wide as saucers.
"She's… drunk at…" she checks her watch "…eight-thirty in the morning?"
I nod timidly, wishing the ground would swallow me whole.
Natsuki turns to me then, with those big, glassy drunken eyes, and throws her arms open like a little kid about to throw an epic tantrum.
"Mizuki-chaaaaan! Come here! Hug me! I'm cold and scared and I need my morning cuddles!"
The embarrassment hits me so hard I almost feel dizzy.
"Natsuki-nee, please!" I whisper, hurrying over. "You're embarrassing me in front of my friends!"
Reika and Akira exchange a glance, then—without a word—continue walking to the kitchen as if nothing happened, starting to take out plates and arrange the sweets Reika brought. I try to ignore them, sit down beside Natsuki, and whisper in her ear:
"Why are you doing this to me? I'm trying to have a normal morning!"
She looks at me with a massive pout, lips trembling, eyes full of fake tears.
"Who are those strangers? I thought I was your only real friend! You're cheating on me! You're replacing me! Waaaaah!"
And she starts fake-crying, with exaggerated hiccups and crocodile tears, hugging me again and burying her face in my neck.
"Don't cry! Don't cry! They're my real friends! I'm not replacing you! You're my big sister forever!"
From the kitchen, Reika lets out a giggle she tries to hide.
Akira just mutters a "she's… intense" while arranging the dorayaki on a plate.
And I, trapped in the arms of a drunken crybaby,
can only sigh and hug Natsuki tighter.
Natsuki starts raising her voice, escalating from fake whining to full-blown drama, complete with wild gestures.
"Noooo, Mizuki-chan, you're abandoning meeee, sniff! You don't love me anymore! You have new friends and I'm just in the way! Waaaaah! I'm a disposable big sister! You're going to throw me out like a used tissue! Boo-hoo-hooooo!"
"Natsuki-nee, please!" I whisper desperately, clapping a hand over her mouth. "You're going to wake Mom and Dad! They're sleeping upstairs! And I've had enough embarrassment for one day!"
She swats my hand away and cries even louder, with exaggerated hiccups and tears that now seem real.
"Let them wake up! Let the whole neighborhood know my little sister traded me in for other girls! Let them know I'm not her favorite anymore! You've broken my heart! Waaaaah! I'm a woman abandoned at twenty-three!"
"She's turning twenty-four in a week! And I haven't abandoned you! Stop it!"
"I'll never stop! Never! My life is over! Farewell, cruel world!"
And just when I think I'm going to die of embarrassment right there, Reika appears from the kitchen like a guardian angel.
She's holding a plate with three perfectly arranged dorayaki, glazed with honey and filled with anko, still warm. She kneels in front of Natsuki with a sweet, maternal smile I've never seen on her before and offers the plate like a peace offering.
"Here you go," she says softly, almost singing. "Have something to eat. You'll feel better."
Natsuki goes completely silent.
She looks at Reika. Looks at the plate. Looks back at Reika.
Her eyes go wide as saucers.
Then she grabs the plate with both hands like it's sacred treasure, takes a huge bite of the first dorayaki, and…
"Oh my God! This is incredible! The best dorayaki of my life! Thank you, guardian angel! I love you! Marry me!"
And she starts devouring them at inhuman speed, moaning with pleasure at every bite, the tears already forgotten.
I just stare at the scene, face burning with embarrassment, sighing so deeply I nearly faint.
"Thank you, Reika…" I murmur, on the verge of a nervous breakdown. "You're… you're a miracle."
She just smiles, stands up, and winks at me.
Akira, who had been silent the whole time, timidly approaches from the kitchen with another plate in her hands: two dorayaki and a glass of freshly brewed green tea. Her cheeks are red, eyes fixed on the floor, hands trembling slightly.
"I-I… brought this for you…" she whispers, barely audible.
I take it with both hands, smiling shyly.
"Thank you, Akira… And thank you too, Reika…"
Both of them smile back—one confident, the other shy.
...
Natsuki fell back asleep on the sofa in less than five minutes after devouring the dorayaki like she hadn't eaten in three days. Now she's curled up under the blanket Reika carefully tucked around her, snoring softly, mouth slightly open, a thin trail of drool glistening at the corner of her lips. The alcohol smell still lingers in the air, but it's softer now, almost sweet mixed with the sugar from the sweets.
The three of us (Reika, Akira, and I) are sitting on the floor, forming a small circle on the rug, with empty plates and half-finished cups of tea. Reika does most of the talking, recounting student council anecdotes in her calm, elegant voice, doing impressions of the teachers that make me laugh until my sides hurt. I try to keep up, telling some silly story about the cats or the time Luna stole an entire piece of chicken. Akira, on the other hand, barely speaks. She's sitting cross-legged, the oversized hoodie swallowing her hands, glasses constantly slipping down her nose. She only smiles shyly when something amuses her and nods, but her eyes stay fixed downward, as if she's afraid to look at us too long.
Suddenly, Natsuki mumbles something unintelligible from the sofa, shifts under the blanket, and starts crying again, with exaggerated hiccups and drunken whimpers.
"Mizuki-chaaaaan…! Don't leave me aloooone…! I'm hungry againnnn…!"
Reika sighs with a mix of amusement and tenderness, stands up, and heads to the sofa.
"I'll see what she wants now," she says, voice resigned but maternal. "Looks like the hangover is already kicking in."
When Reika disappears toward the sofa, the living room falls silent.
It's just Akira and me.
The air turns heavy instantly.
An awkward, thick silence that presses on my chest.
Akira shrinks even more into her hoodie, shoulders hunched, hands clenched between her knees.
And before I can say anything to break the ice, she speaks first, voice so low it's almost a whisper:
"Mizuki… I… I'm leaving now. I… I'm not welcome here. I understand. After everything I did to you… I don't deserve to be in your house. I don't even deserve to look you in the face. I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…"
She starts to stand, ready to go.
I stop her by gently grabbing the sleeve of her hoodie.
"Wait," I whisper, voice timid at first, trembling. "Please… don't go."
She freezes.
I take a deep breath, searching for courage somewhere inside me.
"Akira… I know you did horrible things. I know you hurt me. That you humiliated me. That you laughed at me. That you let others hurt me more. And yes… it hurts. It still hurts a lot. But… but I also know you're here. That you came to ask for forgiveness. That you wrote letters to my parents. That you cried when you saw me. That you're shaking right now because you're afraid I hate you. And that… that means something."
My voice trembles again, but I keep going.
"I don't hate you. I can't. Because if I hated you… I'd be hating a part of myself that was broken too. You were suffering too, weren't you? Because of your boyfriend… because of things before that… We were all broken in one way or another. And now… now we're trying to fix ourselves. Together. So… stay. Please."
Akira looks at me.
Her eyes fill with tears instantly.
And suddenly she throws herself at me.
She drops to the floor, buries her face in my stomach, and curls up in my lap like a frightened puppy.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm so, so sorry, Mizuki! I never meant to really hurt you! I was stupid! I was angry at the world! At myself! But I never wanted you to… to…! Please forgive me! I want to be better! I want to be your friend! For real this time!"
She sobs against my hoodie, tears soaking the fabric.
I, with my heart in my throat, start stroking her hair, slowly, carefully.
"Shh… it's okay… I already forgave you… We're going to be okay…"
And right at that moment Reika returns…
dragging Natsuki, who's clinging to her waist like a drunken koala.
Natsuki has her arms wrapped around Reika's waist, face buried in her sweater, whimpering.
"Foooooood…! I'm hungry againnnn…! Reika-chan, give me something yummy…."
Reika sighs, with a tired but maternal smile.
"Let's get some water or warm milk… see if that calms her down once and for all."
And I, with Akira crying in my lap and Natsuki hanging off Reika like a giant baby…
can only laugh.
Because even if everything is chaos…
for the first time…
I feel surrounded by people who, in their crazy, broken way…
truly love me.
...
...
I'm sleeping better than I ever have in my life. My crappy apartment bed, with its sagging mattress and sheets that smell of cheap fabric softener, feels like paradise compared to the hospital gurney. In my dream I'm floating on a fluffy white cloud, soft and endless blue sky all around, the sun warming my face without burning. No ex-girlfriends. No betrayals. No blood or screams. Just peace. A peace I hadn't felt since… ever.
And then…
"SHUT UP ALREADY, YOU OLD BASTARD! I TOLD YOU THE RENT WENT UP! PAY OR I'LL THROW YOU OUT ON THE STREET LIKE A DOG!"
My eyes snap open.
The goddess, voice thick and sleepy, growls inside my head:
"Who the hell is yelling at this hour? I just fell asleep… Kill him, Kazuo… Or at least tell him to shut up…"
I turn my head, annoyed.
The digital clock reads 11:27.
Damn. I overslept.
Luna is curled on my chest, her little head right under my chin, purring like a tiny engine. The four kittens are scattered between my legs, little balls of fur, fast asleep. Miso has one paw stretched out over my thigh like she's claiming ownership.
I mutter, voice still hoarse from sleep:
"Whoever's yelling… I'm gonna kill them."
Carefully I lift Luna (she meows in protest, opens one green eye, and gives me a look that says "seriously, you're waking me now?") and set her aside. The kittens don't even stir.
I roll out of bed, throw on an old hoodie and sweatpants, and shuffle out into the hallway.
The goddess keeps grumbling, voice dragged down by sleep:
"If it's a neighbor, break his jaw… If it's a salesman… break his jaw anyway… If it's a hot woman… wake me up, I wanna see…"
I open the apartment door.
The morning cold hits me like a whip.
I jog down the metal stairs, the shouting getting louder with every step.
And when I reach the street…
I stop dead.
In the middle of the road, in front of the building across the way, stands a woman.
Platinum blonde hair down to her waist. Ice-blue eyes so pale they look unreal. She's wearing a long camel wool coat, fitted, with tall black heeled boots that click like gunshots with every step. Suit underneath, discreet but expensive jewelry, designer handbag dangling from her forearm. Attractive. Very. That mature, cold beauty that intimidates and draws you in at the same time.
She's screaming at an older man, hunched over, clutching a grocery bag, looking like he's about to cry.
"I TOLD YOU RENT WENT UP 40%! AND THERE YOU ARE, WITH YOUR BEATEN-DOG FACE, TELLING ME YOU CAN'T PAY! PAY UP OR I'LL EVICT YOU TODAY, YOU USELESS OLD MAN!"
The goddess, now fully awake and with a sleepy, seductive voice:
"Ufff… look at that woman… That commanding voice… That boss-lady posture… That "I'll destroy you and then fuck you" face… Go down there, Kazuo… Politely ask her to lower her voice… and while you're at it, ask if she wants breakfast in bed… or you in bed… whatever she prefers…"
I roll my eyes so hard my head almost hurts.
"You're incorrigible."
And I head down the stairs to the street, cold slapping my face, shouts echoing in my ears.
I approach with calm steps, hands buried in my hoodie pockets so no one notices I'm holding back irritation. The morning cold bites my cheeks, but I ignore it. The woman keeps yelling, her sharp, piercing voice echoing down the entire street, making some neighbors crack open their windows in curiosity and fear. The poor man she's tearing apart has shrunk even further, his grocery bag trembling in his bony hands.
"Excuse me…" I say quietly, trying to be as polite as possible. "Could you lower your voice a little?"
She doesn't even glance at me. She keeps ranting, now jabbing a perfectly manicured finger at the poor man.
"And you have the nerve to tell me 'it's too much money'! Of course it's a lot of money! This is Shinjuku, not some shitty village lost in the mountains! If you can't pay, go live under a bridge with the rest of the bums!"
I try again, this time stepping closer.
"Ma'am, please… People are sleeping—kids, elderly folks…"
Nothing. She acts like I'm invisible.
I clench my teeth.
Take a deep breath.
And this time I shout.
"HEY!"
Silence drops like a guillotine.
She whips around, long blonde hair whipping like a battle flag, ice-blue eyes blazing.
"Who the hell do you think you are to yell at me, you little punk?" Her voice is pure ice, dripping with contempt. "This is a private conversation!"
I smile, polite, but with narrowed eyes.
"It doesn't seem very private when the whole neighborhood can hear it. I'm just asking, please, lower your voice. People are trying to rest."
She looks me up and down: old hoodie, sweatpants, bare feet, messy hair. Her upper lip curls in absolute disgust.
"And who are you? The defender of the poor? Look, kid, this is between adults with money and people who can't afford their place in the world. Go back to your dump and let me finish."
"With all due respect," I reply, still calm, "that 'dump' is my home. And the yelling woke me up. So please, lower your voice or call the police if you want to keep arguing. But do it quietly."
She lets out a short, dry laugh full of superiority.
"The police? Please! My family pays the salaries of half the officers in this precinct! And you… you're some broke loser living on rent in a building I could buy tomorrow if I felt like it!"
"Maybe," I answer, smile never fading. "But today I'm here. And you're yelling. So, one last time: lower your voice."
She takes a step toward me, heels clacking like gunshots.
"Do you even know who you're talking to, punk? I'm Kurogane Sayuri! My husband is the majority shareholder in three banks, and I own the top hotel branches in Tokyo! You're nobody!"
I open my mouth to respond…
but she cuts me off, raising her hand as if to slap me.
"Don't you dare open your mouth again! Security! Somebody call security! This bum is threatening me!"
I sigh—a long, weary sigh that comes from deep in my chest. The woman still has her hand raised, as if she's about to deliver a verbal or physical slap; I don't care which. The goddess, of course, doesn't miss the chance to chime in.
"Mmm… what a temper, what a voice, what presence… You could shut her up in a much more fun way, you know? A deep kiss, a hand on that wasp waist… or just bend her over the wall and…"
"Shut up," I cut her off mentally, sharp.
I run a hand through my messy hair and take a step forward, planting myself between the woman and the poor man who looks like he's about to collapse.
"Ma'am," I say calmly, almost kindly, "my name is Reiji. Reiji Ryūsei. I live here, in 2-B. And I assure you several people in this neighborhood know me. And none of them are going to call the police on me."
She looks me up and down again, face twisted in absolute disgust, like she just stepped in something rotten.
"Reiji Ryūsei? Never heard the name. And judging by your appearance, I'm not surprised. You're probably one of those delinquents infesting these neighborhoods. Look at how you're dressed. Look at where you live. Security! Somebody call security!"
I glance at the older man, still trembling, clutching his grocery bag to his chest like a shield.
"Sir…" I ask gently. "She mentioned Shinjuku. Do you live there?"
The man looks at me with teary eyes, shaking his head.
"No… no, young man. My daughters do. They're studying at university in Shinjuku. They came from the countryside a year ago. Rent there is… impossible. I pay from here, from this neighborhood. But… but this month I fell behind. Just one month. And this lady…"
The woman cuts him off with a shrill scream.
"ONE MONTH! And two weeks before that! And three days the time before! Always excuses! Always tears! Poor people like you only know how to whine and beg for pity! This is Tokyo! Here you pay or you get out!"
I sigh again.
The goddess murmurs in a lazy, seductive voice:
"What a woman… I love it when she gets angry. Strong, dominant… You could tame her, Kazuo. A couple of spanks and…"
I ignore her completely.
I look at the woman. Look at the man. Look at the situation.
And I remember the envelope my mother gave me yesterday. Thick. Full of crisp new bills.
I interrupt again, voice firm but calm.
"Ma'am. I'll pay the gentleman's overdue month. And the next one too, if necessary. So stop yelling."
She whips around like I just slapped her.
"You? You're going to pay? Please! Look at how you're dressed! Look at where you live! You probably don't even have enough for a coffee! Don't make me laugh! Go beg somewhere else, you cheap yankee!"
"Wait here," I say, unfazed. "Both of you. I'll be back in two minutes."
And without waiting for a reply, I turn and head back up the stairs to my apartment, leaving the woman speechless and the man staring at me with eyes full of hope.
I burst into the apartment almost slamming the door; the kittens lift their heads from the floor, and Luna gives me those green eyes that seem to say, "In a rush again, human?" I head straight for the little table where I left the envelope last night. And there it is… but with a gray ball of fur on top.
Luna is sprawled out completely.
"Thanks for watching it for me, queen," I whisper with a smile, scratching behind her ears.
She meows lazily, stretches with feline dignity, and moves just enough for me to reach under her belly. I grab it, weigh it in my hand (even heavier than I remembered), and race back downstairs.
When I get to the street, the woman is still there, arms crossed, that expression of absolute superiority seemingly tattooed on her face. The poor man stands beside her, hunched over, staring at the ground like he wants to vanish.
She sees me coming and lets out a dry, scornful laugh.
"Back already? Did you bring the two thousand yen you scraped together from yesterday's begging? Please! With that cheap delinquent look, you're not fooling anyone! Go beg at the station! There's nothing for you here!"
I smile. A calm smile, no malice, but it doesn't reach my eyes.
And I hold the envelope right under her nose.
"Open it," I say calmly. "I think you'll find enough to cover several months for the gentleman. Maybe even a year, if you're reasonable."
She stares at me like I just spoke Chinese.
Then, with a sneer, she snatches the envelope and opens it.
The stacks of crisp new 10,000-yen bills appear perfectly ordered.
Her eyes widen slightly. Then more. Then all the way.
She flips through the wad with fingers that start to tremble just a little.
There's a lot. A whole lot.
She looks at me, stunned, mouth slightly open.
I keep smiling.
"Now, if you'd be so kind," I say in the same soft voice, "leave the gentleman alone and go. That should be enough to forget about him for quite a while."
The man beside her looks at me with tear-filled eyes, stammering a "thank you… thank you, young man…" that's barely audible.
She keeps staring at the money.
Then at me.
Then at the money again.
And finally, without another word, she turns on her heel and walks away, heels clacking, coat billowing behind her like a flag of defeat.
The man stays there, trembling, thanking me over and over.
I give him a gentle pat on the shoulder.
"Go home, sir. And rest."
I head back up the stairs, heart light.
Enter the apartment.
Close the door.
Luna greets me with a long meow, as if asking "where were you?"
The kittens come out of hiding and start scampering around my ankles.
I sigh, relieved.
I'm about to collapse back into bed and sleep until my body demands it.
And just as I'm closing my eyes…
BAM! BAM! BAM!
Loud, violent knocks on the door.
The kittens startle and run to hide behind their mother.
I clench my teeth.
Whoever it is, they're in for it.
I yank the door open, ready to yell…
and fall silent.
It's her.
The blonde woman.
Envelope still in hand.
Staring straight at me.
Ice-blue eyes blazing.
Face red with rage… or something else.
The woman stares at me intently, ice-blue eyes narrowed, lips pressed into a perfect line of distrust. The envelope is still in her right hand, open, the bills peeking out like a green tongue mocking her. The cold morning wind lifts a few strands of her long blonde hair—perfectly styled until a second ago—and makes them dance around her face like golden serpents.
"Where did you get this?" she finally asks, voice low and dangerous, without a trace of her earlier hysteria. "No one in this neighborhood has this kind of money. No one. And certainly not a… a delinquent like you."
I smirk, shrugging.
"My mother gave it to me."
She lets out a dry, short laugh loaded with pure contempt.
"Your mother? Please! Look at where you live! Look at how you're dressed! You must have stolen it! Or made it selling drugs or something worse! Don't make me laugh!"
I roll my eyes so hard my head almost hurts.
And she notices.
She takes a quick step toward me, heels clacking like gunshots in the silent street.
Before I can react, she shoves me aside with a strength I didn't expect from someone so elegant and storms into my apartment like a hurricane.
"This is impossible!" she exclaims, voice echoing off the bare walls. "Impossible for someone like you to have that much clean money!"
She stops in the middle of the living room.
Looks around: the old sofa, the low table covered in scratches, the tiny kitchen, the bare walls with no pictures.
Then she lowers her gaze.
And sees Luna.
Luna is sitting in the center of the room, upright, majestic, tail curled around her paws, green eyes fixed on her.
The woman freezes.
She takes a step back, heels screeching against the linoleum.
"W-what… what is that?" she whispers, voice trembling for the first time.
I sigh, step between her and Luna, and cross my arms.
"That's my cat. Her name's Luna. And you're in my house without permission. So please leave. Before I really call the police."
She stares at me.
Eyes full of rage, cheeks flushed, lips trembling with barely contained fury.
"You're insolent! A broke nobody with delusions of grandeur! This isn't over!"
She spins around, heels clacking like machine-gun fire, and storms out, slamming the door so hard the walls shake.
I stand there, staring at the closed door.
The goddess, voice tired but satisfied, murmurs:
"Finally, the harpy's gone… Now get back to bed. I want to keep sleeping too."
I smile, rub the back of my neck.
And lock the door.
I thought I was finally going to get five minutes of peace, that I could collapse into bed and sleep until next year, but there's another knock at the door.
Once.
Twice.
Three times, louder.
A single tear of pure frustration rolls down my left cheek.
The goddess, now fully awake and furious, yells inside my head:
"ENOUGH ALREADY! EITHER KICK THAT HARPY OUT OR TELL A NEIGHBOR TO CALL THE COPS! I'M NOT LETTING HER RUIN OUR DAY AGAIN!"
I yank the door open, ready to unload the scolding of the century on the classist blonde…
and go mute.
A small body launches itself at me and hugs me so hard I almost stumble backward.
I look down.
Hoshino.
Hoshino Mizuki, eyes shining, cheeks flushed, hugging me like she hasn't seen me in years.
"Reiji-senpai! You're here! You're okay!"
Beside her stand Reika (with a "I'm going to kill you" face) and Akira (with a "I'd rather be dead" face).
And clinging to Reika's back like a giant human koala is… Natsuki.
Asleep. Mouth open, a thread of drool, short blonde hair a mess, wearing the silver dress.
I turn pale down to my roots.
The goddess bursts into a mix of mockery and absolute excitement:
"HAHAHAHAHA! THE FULL HAREM! AND THE DRUNK AS A BONUS! This is better than any novel! Look how they're staring at you! They all want a piece of Reiji!"
I automatically return Hoshino's hug, my arms wrapping around her on instinct as she buries her face in my chest and sighs happily.
"I thought nothing could be weirder than this morning… but the universe always finds a way to top itself."
I think to myself.
Reika and Akira pass me carrying the sleeping Natsuki. Hoshino pulls away for just a second, spots Luna, and lets out an excited squeal.
"Luna-chan! My babies!"
The kittens, hearing her voice, shoot out from behind the sofa and charge toward them like a stampede of fluff. Mochi launches straight at Hoshino's legs, Miso climbs Akira's hoodie, Matcha meows at Reika demanding pets, and Sushi just stares curiously at Natsuki.
I close the door carefully, silently praying nothing explodes in the next five minutes.
Reika glares at me while gently lowering Natsuki onto (my) sofa.
"Can someone explain why nobody told me you were discharged yesterday?" she asks, voice low but sharp as a knife. "We went to the hospital this morning! You weren't there! The doctors nearly had a heart attack when we asked! We thought something had happened to you!"
I scratch the back of my neck, embarrassed.
"I'm sorry… Everything happened so fast… I didn't want to worry you…"
Akira, sitting on the floor playing with Miso, mutters a barely audible "idiot."
Hoshino looks at me with wounded puppy eyes.
"You could have called! We were so worried!"
"But I didn't have a phone!"
I yell mentally.
And then Natsuki, still half-asleep on the sofa, cracks one eye open, sees the kittens climbing all over her, and slurs in a childish, drunken voice:
"Kitties…! So cute…! Come to Mommy…!"
And she starts petting Mochi and Matcha while babbling nonsense.
Reika sighs, arms crossed.
"She had a meltdown. Wouldn't stop crying and demanding hugs. There was no way to separate her from us. We had to bring her. We're hoping she pulls herself together, or we'll have to take her back to Mizuki's parents' house."
Hoshino blushes and looks down.
"I'm… really sorry… It's just… Natsuki-nee gets very… intense when she drinks…"
The goddess cracks up inside my head.
"Intense, she says! She's a hurricane with boobs! I love her! Bring her around more often!"
I just sigh again, sit on the floor next to Hoshino, and let Luna climb into my lap.
And even though the apartment is full of girls, cats, and absolute chaos…
I smile.
Because, damn…
this is starting to feel like a home.
...
Natsuki falls back asleep almost instantly, as if her body had decided that today's drama quota was already filled. The kittens, not missing a beat, curl up on top of her: Mochi on her chest, Matcha wrapped around her neck like a living scarf, Sushi sleeping in her arms, and Miso balled up right on her stomach. She mumbles something unintelligible ("kitties… mine… don't go…") and sinks back into deep sleep, a goofy smile on her face and a soft snore that makes Hoshino let out a nervous giggle.
Hoshino, still sitting beside me on the floor, pressed against my arm like it's her favorite place in the world, looks up with those huge honey-colored eyes and asks in a sweet voice:
"Are you hungry, Reiji-senpai?"
My stomach answers for me with a growl that echoes through the whole living room.
Hoshino laughs, covering her mouth with her hand.
Reika, who had been crouched picking up yesterday's empty plates, snaps her head up and smiles with that mix of pride and superiority only she can pull off.
"Perfect! I'll make breakfast for everyone," she announces, already standing. "Don't worry, it'll be ready in ten minutes."
And she heads straight to the kitchen like she's owned this apartment forever: opens the fridge, pulls out eggs, milk, butter, starts looking for pans with a familiarity that leaves me speechless.
The goddess, of course, doesn't stay quiet:
"See? SEE? The president already has mental keys to your place! Made bentos, cleaned, watered that dead plant on the window! She practically lived here! That's wife-level love! WIFE!"
I let out a long sigh, rub my face with my hand.
I look at Akira, sitting on the floor across from me, hugging her knees, glasses slipping down her nose, face red as a ripe tomato.
"Hey, KuroNeko_Chan," I say teasingly, "what are you doing here so early? Did they drag you along to babysit the patient too?"
Akira turns even redder (if that's possible), shrinks into her hoodie, and stammers:
"I-it's not that! Reika… she forced me! She said I had to apologize in person and… and that if I didn't come she'd report me to the police for harassment! I didn't want to come! It's… it's super embarrassing! Don't look at me like that!"
Hoshino lets out a soft giggle and presses closer to me, resting her chin on my shoulder.
"Akira-chan has been really sorry," she says sweetly. "Yesterday she wrote three more letters. And she cried a lot when Reika-san made her come with us."
Akira hides her face between her knees.
"I didn't cry! I just… got dust in my eyes! Three times in a row!"
Reika, from the kitchen, shouts without turning around:
"Liar! You cried like a baby and soaked my whole shirt!"
"That doesn't count!" Akira protests, voice muffled.
I laugh (low, genuine).
Hoshino looks at me with that laugh, and her smile grows even bigger, radiant, like my laughter is the best gift in the world.
She snuggles closer, her hand finding mine under the blanket someone (definitely Reika) draped over us at some point.
And for a second…
everything is perfect.
The kittens sleep on top of a drunk.
Reika cooks in my kitchen like it's hers.
Akira is red as a tomato but here, trying to fix what she broke.
And Hoshino…
Hoshino is by my side.
Smiling.
Like this is the place she's always belonged.