"Phew..."
Naoki exhaled slowly, letting his body sink into the now-disheveled mattress. The sheets were crumpled, a pillow had been thrown to the corner, and the blanket dangled halfway off the side of the bed.
No condom had been used this time—a stark departure from his usual habit with Tenka. Per the agreement and instructions from Tobera, Naoki had ensured every drop of his seed was planted deep within Yachiho's womb.
The session had been brief—only about thirty minutes. Far shorter than the passionate marathons he was accustomed to with Tenka, which could go on for hours without pause. Yet for Yachiho, those thirty minutes had felt like an eternity.
As a first-timer who had just lost her innocence, she had been unable to keep up with Naoki's dominance. The girl who was ordinarily arrogant, brimming with confidence, and superior in every regard had ended up whimpering pitifully, begging him to finish because her body had already reached its limit.
Now, the room was draped in a heavy atmosphere. The air was stifling, carrying the distinctive scent of intense physical activity—sweat, pheromones, and bodily fluids mingled into one. In the dim glow of the bedside lamp, the sheets were a mess and damp from a mixture of fluids and a red stain that marked the loss of Yachiho's innocence.
That stain was undeniable proof that what had just taken place was a first for her.
Yachiho herself had already fallen into a deep sleep from sheer exhaustion. Her body was curled beneath a thin blanket that only half-covered her, her blue-green hair splayed haphazardly across the pillow.
Her face in sleep looked peaceful—a stark contrast to the whimpers and cries from just minutes before.
Naoki rose and sat at the edge of the mattress. His feet touched the cold floor, a contrast to the heat still radiating from his body. He stared blankly toward the window. Outside, the violet sky of Mato had begun to dim, signaling that night had arrived.
Though he wasn't a smoker, a strange urge welled up inside him—the urge to light a cigarette. An impulse to mimic the men in films who sat brooding after winning a battle in bed, gazing into emptiness with smoke curling through the air.
Unfortunately, he didn't smoke.
"All of this... feels unreal." His voice was barely a whisper, careful not to wake Yachiho.
His eyes remained fixed on the window, but his thoughts had drifted far away.
"I can actually father a child with her without having to take any responsibility..."
Truthfully, Naoki harbored a negative sentiment toward children.
In his view, small children were irrational creatures—they never listened, always did whatever they pleased, and cried over trivial, inconsequential things.
It was this dislike that had made him religiously use protection every time he was intimate with Tenka. He had no desire for his freedom to be stolen by a baby's cries in the dead of night. He didn't want his life to revolve around diapers, baby formula, and chaotic sleep schedules.
Yet the situation with Yachiho offered a different perspective.
With all the power, influence, and resources at their disposal, the Azuma Family would assume full responsibility. They would be the ones to raise, educate, and nurture the child. Naoki wouldn't need to stay up late, change diapers, or bother tending to a fussy infant.
He only needed to provide the "raw material."
The rest was the Azuma Family's business.
Naoki felt as though he had just completed an exceptionally profitable transaction—one where he had gotten everything he wanted: pleasure, satisfaction, and Yachiho's beautiful body—without being bound to the long-term consequences he had always avoided.
"..."
Yachiho slowly opened her eyes. They looked hazy, still half-closed from exhaustion. She caught sight of Naoki's back as he sat brooding at the edge of the bed.
With what strength she had left, she pushed herself up and leaned her back against the headboard. Her movements were slow, her body aching all over. The blanket that had been covering her fell aside in disarray, revealing a body marked with traces—bruises on her hips, bite marks on her neck, love bites on her chest.
But Yachiho didn't care. Or perhaps she was too tired to care.
"What are you brooding about, Naoki? Don't tell me you're starting to feel regret. It's far too late for that."
"Your seed has already been planted, and when that child is born, they will bear the Azuma Family name. They will be elite from the very first breath they take."
Naoki glanced back slightly. The corner of his lips lifted.
"Hehehe..."
His laugh was quiet, but it rang clearly through the silence of the room.
For someone who was the reincarnation of an Indonesian in a past life, the concept of a "family name" carried absolutely no emotional weight. In his homeland, a name was an individual's identity—not merely a label of clan pride. People could change their names, take their husband's name upon marriage, or not even have a family name at all.
So when Yachiho spoke of the "Azuma Family name" with such pride, Naoki could only find it amusing.
"Regret? Not in the slightest."
He turned his body to face Yachiho. His eyes fixed on her with an intense gaze.
"I'm simply thinking logically. You know, Yachiho, biologically speaking, once isn't necessarily enough to guarantee you'll conceive immediately. There are couples who have been married for years and still struggle to have children. So if we truly want to fulfill your grandmother's instructions..."
Naoki crawled back onto the bed. His movements were slow—like a predator approaching its prey. He brought his face close enough that his breath could be felt on the sensitive skin of Yachiho's neck.
"...We'll need to be far more diligent about making a baby."
Yachiho scoffed. Though her face flushed again, she tried to maintain her composure. Her weak hands pushed against Naoki's chest, but the push was meaningless.
"Hmph, just admit it—that's nothing but an excuse to indulge your lust, you pervert."
"Perhaps." Naoki didn't deny it. His smile widened. "But didn't you say yourself that you wanted the best seed? Let's make absolutely certain you're pregnant—no room for doubt."
Yachiho let out a long sigh. There was no point in resisting. Besides, her body was already far too exhausted to argue. And honestly—though she would never admit it aloud—there was a part of her that had... enjoyed it.
When Naoki pulled her back into his arms, Yachiho simply surrendered. Gravity took hold, and she fell into his embrace.
A strange thought crossed her mind in the space between surrender and the desire that was beginning to reawaken her instincts.
"Well, if it must be done, then do it." Yachiho murmured with her eyes closed, allowing Naoki's hands to begin roaming her body once more. "It's almost funny, when you think about it—among the three Azuma sisters, I'll most likely be the first to take maternity leave. My two sisters will be absolutely shocked to see me pregnant before them."
Ignoring the exhaustion that still lingered, Yachiho permitted Naoki to begin the next round. She buried her pride for the sake of the Azuma Family's ambitions—ambitions that now mingled with a desire beginning to set her reason ablaze once more.
◆━⊰✿✧✿⊱━◆
Twenty minutes at an intensity even more frenzied than before. If the first round had been a careful "prelude," this second round was truly wild. Naoki seemed to cast off all restraint, and Yachiho—who had no strength left to resist—could only endure and feel.
At last, Naoki rose.
He picked up his bathrobe from the floor and draped it over himself casually.
On the bed, Yachiho had truly reached her limit.
She could only lie there, helpless. Her body felt as though it had been wrung out and stretched in turns. Every muscle screamed with fatigue. Her breath still came in ragged gasps, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to draw in as much oxygen as possible.
"You... you're not human, Naoki." Her eyes were half-open, staring at the ceiling with an empty gaze. "You're the embodiment of pure, animal lust."
Her blue-green hair, which was usually neatly tied in her signature twin-tails, was now splayed across the pillow in disarray—straight, tangled, and damp with sweat. Naoki had used it as a means of control during their struggle, pulling it, gripping it, treating it no differently from the reins of a racehorse.
Yachiho had no energy to tidy it now.
Before stepping out, Naoki paused at the edge of the bed.
His eyes swept over Yachiho's body as she lay on her back. Her small frame was now adorned with vivid red marks in various places—love bites on her chest, bite marks on her neck and shoulders, grip marks on her hips. All were signs of possession that he had left behind.
"By the way, Yachiho. What size are your breasts, exactly?"
Yachiho snorted. Perhaps because she had no energy left to be angry. Perhaps because there was no longer any point in hiding anything after everything that had happened.
"80C. Satisfied?"
Naoki rubbed his chin, pretending to ponder deeply. "Hmm, in my opinion, that's still not enough, Yachiho."
Yachiho furrowed her brow. "What do you mean?"
Naoki rubbed his chin, pretending to ponder deeply. "Hmm, in my opinion, that's still not enough, Yachiho. What if our baby is born and suffers from a shortage of breast milk because of the limited capacity? As a responsible father, I'm willing to make a sacrifice—to 'stimulate' the growth of your breasts with a special daily massage so that production is plentiful."
Hearing that shameless nonsense, Yachiho's already-flushed face burned even hotter. Summoning what remained of her strength, she snatched the pillow beside her and hurled it with all her might toward Naoki's head.
"Get out, you crazy pervert! Leave right now!" Yachiho shrieked, though her voice came out hoarse. "Go before that animal brain of yours starts working again and you turn into a beast for the third time! I refuse to die on this mattress!"
"Adios!"
Naoki chuckled softly, catching the pillow before it could hit his face. He gave one last mischievous wink before finally turning the door handle and leaving the room—leaving the Sixth Unit's Vice Chief to drown in overwhelming shame and exhaustion.
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