Akira blinked, momentarily stunned.
The curve above him—soft, warm, pressing against his face through thin fabric—combined with the faint, familiar scent lingering at his nose, left no doubt about his current position.
Inside Yuki's pajamas. Again.
"You little—get up!"
"Hehehe."
Slap.
"Oh!"
Yuki sprang up like a startled cat, and the blanket went flying with her. Sunlight flooded the bed, illuminating everything in harsh morning clarity.
Akira's gaze caught on her pajamas. Most of the buttons had come undone during her enthusiastic wake-up call—only the third and fourth from the top remained fastened, struggling valiantly against the tension.
C-cup, his mind noted with clinical precision. Not explosive. Not insignificant either. A solid middle ground—not the best he'd encountered, but far from the worst.
"Brother!" Yuki struck a pose, clearly expecting admiration. "Your cute little sister is—mm?"
He didn't let her finish. His hand found the back of her neck—familiar, brotherly, efficient—and steered her toward the door.
"Natural phenomenon. Get out. I need to change."
The door closed in her face with satisfying finality.
Yumi Souo, ascending the stairs to call them for breakfast, witnessed the entire scene. Her relief was palpable, visible in the slight loosening of her shoulders.
At least he's maintaining boundaries, she thought. At least my... efforts... aren't completely wasted.
Though watching Yuki get unceremoniously ejected from Akira's room, she had to acknowledge that her daughter's boldness was escalating. The girl had no sense of self-preservation around her brother.
"Yuki." Yumi's voice was calm, maternal. "Hurry and change. Breakfast and bento are ready."
"Got it!"
Yuki retreated to her room and stood before the full-length mirror, studying her reflection with intense scrutiny.
This can't be right.
She was charming. Objectively charming. Cute face, nice figure, devoted heart. Why didn't big brother look at her longer? Why didn't he appreciate her?
Her gaze drifted downward, to the feature that had caught Akira's attention, however briefly. Then she thought of Yumi Souo—of the noticeable heaviness her mother carried with effortless grace.
Could it be... because of this?
She cupped herself experimentally, comparing mental images.
Her expression shifted from confusion to dawning horror.
"Ah~!"
The scream echoed through the house.
Akira, already seated at the breakfast table, paused mid-bite. "What's wrong with that girl now?"
He shrugged and returned to his meal, his attention shifting to Yumi Souo across from him.
She was radiant this morning. Whatever internal conflicts she wrestled with, her body had clearly benefited from their nocturnal activities. Even in her slightly worn loungewear, she glowed with a vitality that made her look years younger.
My work, Akira thought with quiet satisfaction, and took another bite.
Under his appreciative gaze, Yumi's cheeks warmed. Several times she opened her mouth to speak—to establish boundaries, to remind him of promises, to reassert the maternal dynamic—but each time, the words died on her tongue.
No need to worry, she told herself firmly. Bai is an obedient child. He'll keep his word.
The reassurance felt hollow, but she clung to it.
Thump-thump-thump-thump.
Yuki appeared in the doorway, slippers slapping against the floor, and threw herself into the chair beside Akira. Her gaze bounced between her own modest curves and her mother's generous display—a comparison that left her visibly disheartened.
But she's my mother, Yuki reminded herself, trying to find solace. I inherited her genes. I'll definitely grow more.
She turned her grief into determination, attacking her breakfast with renewed vigor.
It must be so. It will be so.
"I'm done."
Akira rose, collecting his bento and school bag in efficient motions. He headed for the door, calling back over his shoulder: "Oh—I'll be late again tonight. Don't wait on dinner."
Yumi, who had followed to see him off, blinked in surprise. "Again?" The second night in a row, and school had barely started. "Is it because of the assessment?"
"Yeah." He paused at the genkan, slipping on his shoes. "Don't worry. I'll take care of myself."
Then, unexpectedly, he turned and stepped forward, pulling her into a brief embrace.
Inhale~!
"The scent of breakfast," he murmured, then released her with a smile. "I'm off."
The door closed behind him.
Yumi stood frozen in the entryway, her heart doing strange things in her chest. That embrace—so natural, so intimate—had felt less like a son saying goodbye and more like...
Like a newlywed husband leaving for work.
She shook her head violently, dispelling the thought.
He's my son. My son.
"Mom?" Yuki's voice drifted from the dining room. "Is there any way to make them bigger?"
Yumi returned to find her daughter studying her own chest with intense focus.
"Eh?" She blinked. "You don't think they're enough?"
"Mm." Yuki nodded solemnly. "Hey, Mom—I'll definitely be bigger than you someday, right?"
Yumi stared at her daughter's earnest expression, unsure whether to laugh or cry. After a long pause, she managed: "Probably."
She is a clone of me, after all. The potential is there.
Yuki exhaled with relief. "Good. I'm done eating too, Mom. Hurry up!"
"Alright, alright."
Yumi hurried through the remainder of her breakfast, grabbed her keys, and followed her daughter out the door.
"Akira!"
A hand landed on his shoulder.
Akira didn't turn around. Didn't react. Just kept walking with a small smile.
"Trying to use my own trick against me?" he called back. "Not going to work."
From behind him, Kato Megumi's voice carried a hint of dry amusement. "Then you must not have many friends. You won't even let your friends have a little fun."
He turned then, and his eyes caught on something new—a cherry blossom hairpin tucked behind her ear, delicate pink against her dark hair.
"Wow." His expression softened into genuine appreciation. "Cute. That hairpin suits you perfectly."
A faint blush touched her cheeks. "I know." A pause. "I take back what I said earlier."
Akira laughed—a warm, unguarded sound. "Speaking of which—your email. We talked about it yesterday."
Kato Megumi stepped closer, phone in hand, ready to complete the email exchange they'd discussed.
But Akira had other ideas.
His phone was already in camera mode, aimed directly at her. "Look here—cheese!"
Click.
"Wah—" She blinked, caught off guard. "That's..."
"Incredible, right?" He grinned, turning the screen toward her. "Look. A beautiful girl. Now—" He waggled the phone playfully. "How about sharing that beautiful girl's email address?"
The photo stared back at her—her own face, caught in a moment of genuine surprise, the cherry blossom hairpin catching the morning light. She wasn't smiling, exactly. But the corners of her mouth...
The corners of her mouth were definitely trending upward.
Akira's pride swelled visibly. Seventy favorability. Second day of knowing her. And Kato Megumi—perpetually expressionless, famously hard to read—was this close to actually laughing.
Who else could do that? he asked himself smugly. I ask—who else?
"Alright." Megumi's voice carried its usual calm, but there was something softer underneath. "Stop fooling around. Here's my email."
They exchanged addresses. Immediately, Akira's fingers flew across his screen—message after message, each one disappearing into the digital ether with a satisfying whoosh.
Megumi's phone buzzed. Then buzzed again. Then again.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz-buzz-buzz.
By the time the bus arrived, she'd received more messages in a single morning than she typically did in an entire week.
The bus was even more crowded than yesterday.
Kato Megumi didn't need Akira to point it out—she could feel it in the press of bodies, the lack of personal space, the way every jostle and sway seemed amplified in the confined space.
Today, Akira stood noticeably closer. Protective, perhaps. Or maybe just practical—there was nowhere else to stand. But she noticed. Noticed the warmth radiating from him. Noticed the way his arm created a small barrier between her and the surging crowd.
The other passengers, crammed into whatever space remained, didn't look any more comfortable than she felt.
"It's okay," Akira murmured, as if reading her thoughts.
The words had barely left his mouth when the bus driver slammed on the brakes—another car, another near-miss, another sudden lurch.
Kato Megumi pitched forward, directly into Akira's chest.
Again.
But this time was different. This time, pressed against him, she felt something—a firmness, a warmth, an unmistakable presence that hadn't been there yesterday.
Her face exploded in color.
"Ahem." Akira's voice was carefully casual above her. "Natural reaction. Totally natural."
"I... know."
Her voice was calm. Controlled. The picture of composure.
But inside, her mind was a typhoon of chaos.
Natural reaction? What natural reaction? Is that—is that what I think it is? Why is it—how is it—he's only seventeen, how can he—
The bus swayed onward. Akira's arm remained steady, shielding her from the crowd. And Kato Megumi, expression unchanged, continued her internal screaming all the way to school.