The Yukinoshita bathroom had been fairly ordinary before, just bigger than most. That changed after Makoto moved in.
Especially during the latter period after his return from the Naruto world, Mrs. Yukinoshita had remodeled the entire thing to suit his preferences.
A jetted soaking tub large enough for four or five people without feeling cramped. A hundred-inch anti-fog TV mounted flush into the wall. The works.
Now, surrounded by a thick layer of bubbles, Makoto lounged against the edge of the tub with the TV on.
The news was replaying footage of his ceasefire exchange with the Corn-Haired One.
He reached for the remote to change the channel when a soft knock came at the door.
Without turning around, he called out, "I'm fine. I'll eat with dinner."
He assumed it was one of the maids bringing snacks and drinks. That had been the routine back when he lived here.
Mrs. Yukinoshita would always have someone bring refreshments whenever he was in the bath. Japanese people loved their sake during a hot soak.
For Makoto, bath time usually followed a training session, when his body was at its most depleted and his stomach at its emptiest, so he'd occasionally eat a little something while soaking.
But the voice on the other side of the door wasn't a maid's.
"Makoto, the kitchen wasn't able to get fresh ingredients today. I've already sent someone to Totsuki Academy to pick some up, but here are a few things to tide you over in the meantime."
A family like the Yukinoshitas sourced their ingredients directly from farms every day, nothing but the freshest. But with everything Makoto had kicked off that morning, they'd missed their window. Now that he was back, she'd scrambled to arrange a supply run.
He blinked at the mention of Totsuki. "All right. Thanks."
The handle turned and Mrs. Yukinoshita stepped in carrying a tray.
On it sat two of his favorites: fermented rice dumplings and brown sugar mochi. Clearly homemade, not store-bought. During their time in the Naruto world, these were his go-to orders whenever he dropped by her dessert shop.
"I'll... I'll just leave these here."
She set the tray on the marble ledge beside the tub, eyes darting everywhere except at him.
She couldn't resist, though. Her gaze stole sideways.
The mingled scent of body wash and something distinctly male made her thoughts drift.
Makoto switched channels, moving from news to financial programming.
A short, wrinkled old man in traditional dress filled the screen, seated in a broadcast studio, gesticulating wildly at the camera.
The chyron at the bottom identified him: Mitsunari Tokugawa.
"I said it from the start!" the old man barked, practically vibrating with righteous energy. "That President was never any good! I could see it the moment he took office! His words offended Lord Nishikado today, and he got exactly what he deserved! Good riddance!"
Makoto had just shoveled a heaping spoonful of rice dumplings into his mouth. He choked and sprayed the whole mouthful across the tub.
Right on cue, Leave it to the pundits to do my PR for me.
"Who's that?" He wiped his mouth and glanced toward Mrs. Yukinoshita, who looked ready to bolt from sheer embarrassment.
She kept her head down, refusing eye contact, and stole a quick glance at the screen. "The head of the Tokugawa family," she murmured. "One of the four great financial dynasties. Mitsunari Tokugawa."
Makoto blinked. The name didn't ring a bell.
He'd watched plenty of anime in his past life, sure, but his otaku credentials were moderate at best. Nowhere near the encyclopedic devotion of certain authors he could name.
On screen, Tokugawa was building to a crescendo: "I will not presume to guess Lord Nishikado's intentions or his next move. I will simply obey, unconditionally. The weak defer to the strong. That is the natural order of things. I intend to visit Lord Nishikado in person. Whatever he requires, the entire Tokugawa clan will provide it without hesitation!"
Makoto blinked again. "...That's nauseating levels of bootlicking."
"Given your power now," Mrs. Yukinoshita said quietly, head still lowered, "that reaction is... normal."
He caught how she'd addressed him and turned to her with a slight smile. "You can drop the formalities. Just use my name."
"Is... is that okay?"
Her head snapped up, surprise and delight fighting for control of her expression.
She'd wanted to go back to using his first name. It felt closer. More intimate. But when the heads of the four greatest families in Japan were all tripping over themselves with deference, how could she presume to be casual?
The honorific had slipped out on its own.
As her eyes met his, she noticed something different in his gaze. An edge she hadn't seen before. Something predatory.
Her heart lurched. She buried her face again, the tips of her ears burning crimson.
What she hadn't noticed was how long she'd been standing in the steam-filled room. The humidity clung to her, pressing the thin fabric of her kimono against her skin, tracing every curve with merciless precision.
Damp strands of hair stuck to her cheeks, lending her an effortless, languid allure.
His hand shot out and caught her by the waist, pulling her close.
The distance between them collapsed to nothing. Close enough to feel each other's breath.
Color flooded her face, raced down her neck, and vanished beneath her collar.
The sudden motion had loosened her upswept hair. Several strands tumbled free, falling across her shoulders in a way that only made her more striking.
Up close, Makoto could see that her skin rivaled her eldest daughter Haruno's in its smoothness. But at this distance, faint lines appeared at the corners of her eyes when she made larger expressions.
They didn't diminish her appeal. If anything, they added to it. Just like the mole on Tiara Basori's neck, it added its own unique charm.
He didn't know how long he'd been staring when she finally whispered, barely audible, "Could you... let go of me?"
He said nothing. He leaned down, closer...
"Damn it! Those American bastards must have ambushed him!"
Past midnight, Airi Akizuki threw herself onto the living room couch and let loose.
The girls had spent the entire evening roaming the battered streets of Tokyo, searching for any trace of Makoto.
Nothing.
Marina Akizuki had tried calling multiple times, but each attempt went straight to a dead phone.
Eventually, the girls gave up and went home. This was the real world. They had families. Staying out all night would only worry their parents.
Besides, they needed to have a certain conversation about superpowers.
Kayoko Akizuki, who'd been waiting up all day, brought her daughters two glasses of water and spoke gently. "Don't worry. Makoto's stronger than anyone. He'll be fine. Get some sleep. He might be back by morning."
Easy to say. None of the three moved from the living room.
Sleep was out of the question.
The TV droned on with late-night program nobody watched.
The three of them sat there. Waiting.
Finally, the first rays of dawn slipped through the window, and the sharp light snapped them back to reality. A new day.
The front door clicked open.
When the familiar silhouette stepped through the entryway, every person in the room froze.
Then all three launched themselves at him at once.
Not just Airi and Marina. Kayoko threw herself forward too, and together they engulfed Makoto completely.
He raised his arms instinctively, struggling to fit them all into one embrace.
"Makoto! Where were you last night? I was worried sick!"
"Are you hurt? Do you need a hospital?"
"We thought something happened to you!"
All three of them crying, clinging, talking over each other.
Makoto felt a twinge of guilt.
Not his fault Mrs. Yukinoshita had been so... enthusiastic.
He was finally seeing the appeal of the 'mature women' tag. Married women held absolutely nothing back.
Even Ichinose Chizuru, who'd let him explore every avenue, couldn't match that level of... openness.
Certain things, for example, that involved...
Fragments of the previous night flashed through his mind. He shook his head quickly. Can't go there. That wouldn't pass any rating board.
The Akizuki sisters, meanwhile, had noticed their mother clinging to Makoto right alongside them. Their expressions turned distinctly odd.
"Mom... what are you doing?"
Kayoko felt their stares and turned beet red. "I... I was worried about him too! What's with those looks?"
Makoto guided all three to the couch and sat them down. He explained that his Chakra had been completely depleted. The bravado earlier had been a bluff, meant to keep his enemies from sensing weakness.
He'd planned to come straight home after the airport, but exhaustion had overwhelmed him halfway. He'd slipped into a random hotel to crash, and his phone had died.
He put his palms together in an apologetic gesture. "Sorry. That's on me. I should've found a way to let you know."
"Don't be silly."
Airi grabbed his arm, pressing it against her, eyes brimming with concern. "We're the ones who should be sorry. We couldn't do enough to help you."
Marina seized the other arm, her gaze steady and earnest. "We'll get stronger. Next time, we'll be useful. I promise."
Looking at the sincerity in their eyes, Makoto nodded.
Not like I can tell them the truth.
Kayoko glanced left, then right. Both daughters had claimed an arm, boxing Makoto in from both sides.
She should have been happy for her girls. Instead, a small, traitorous pang of jealousy stirred in her chest.
After the previous day's chaos, Tokyo was a city of scars.
Cracked roads, toppled buildings, rubble and debris in every direction. Bulldozers and excavators worked around the clock, stitching the wounded city back together.
Shuchiin Academy, ground zero for the conflict, had taken the worst of it by far.
The campus had been leveled. The main building was a skeletal ruin, half its frame clawing at the sky. The athletic field was gouged with deep trenches and scorched black.
Principal Adolphe Pescarolo stood at the perimeter barricade, surveying the wreckage of his school. A long sigh escaped him. "How long before the students can come back to this?"
He'd always loved being principal. The old eccentric thrived on mingling with students, being part of their daily lives.
But even as the words left his mouth, he shook his head with a bitter smile. The entire world order had shifted overnight. Who knew what tomorrow would bring?
Nobody cared about school right now.
"Wait, classes are cancelled?"
A voice behind him, tinged with genuine disappointment.
Pescarolo assumed it was one of his students and turned with a weary smile. "I appreciate the enthusiasm, kid, but with the state of the world right now..."
The words died in his throat. His pupils contracted and he sat down hard on the pavement.
"Been a while, Principal."
Sunlight caught Makoto from behind, gilding his outline in gold. His smile was warm, friendly. A completely different person from yesterday's angel of death.
Several seconds passed before Pescarolo managed to grasp the offered hand and haul himself back to his feet.
Even standing, he couldn't stop shaking, having no idea what this particular deity wanted.
Makoto turned to survey the ruins of the school, and something close to real disappointment colored his voice. "So what happens now? Extended break? Online classes?"
Pescarolo's brain short-circuited.
Wait. You actually want to attend class?
Maybe the powerful operated on a different wavelength from everyone else.
But since Makoto was asking, Pescarolo had no choice but to answer. "If... if we absolutely had to resume classes, then yes, online would be the only option. Rebuilding will take at least six months."
"That's a shame."
The disappointment was genuine.
Growing up watching all those anime about Japanese high schoolers saving the world, he'd developed a quiet fascination with the experience.
Especially with so many characters from different series gathered in one place. Something entertaining happened practically every other day. He'd been looking forward to it when he first enrolled.
Then the Reincarnation Game had yanked him into the Naruto world on day one.
Though he preferred the supernatural side of things, he wouldn't have minded some slice-of-life downtime. And now that he'd finally returned to the real world, the school he might have enjoyed had been... well, he'd blown it up himself.
Everything is the world's fault.
Pescarolo caught the sincerity behind the regret. His mind raced.
A lightbulb went off.
"Um, Nishikado-sama..."
"You don't have to be that formal, Principal."
"R-right. Of course." He mopped his forehead. "If you'd like to experience campus life, there is... one option."
"Oh?"
Tokyo, Ota Ward.
Home to Haneda International Airport and the most remote district from the city center. It had taken the least damage in yesterday's disaster, and some shops were still operating normally.
"Lucky! Kei, this dessert place is open!"
Chika Fujiwara dragged a girl on each arm toward a pink-fronted cafe across the street, face lit up like a child at Christmas.
On her left, her younger sister Moeha Fujiwara nodded vigorously. "Yes, yes! I want the strawberry parfait!"
She was essentially a miniature copy of Chika. Still in middle school and already... impressively developed.
On the right, Kei Shirogane sighed. "Chika, Moeha, the city's in ruins. How can you two think about food right now?"
When the Fujiwara sisters' invitation to hang out had hit her phone that morning, she'd pulled the most deadpan expression of her life.
The whole world was in turmoil. Nobody knew what the most powerful nation on Earth would do next, or what that unpredictable upperclassman was planning.
And her best friend and said best friend's sister wanted to go shopping? They didn't have a care in the world.
Chika planted her hands on her hips as if the answer were self-evident. "That's exactly why! If the world might end, we need to squeeze in as much fun as possible!"
Kei's brain stalled.
That's... weirdly logical. I have no counterargument.
Coming from a family that pinched every penny, she found herself briefly wondering if she should burn through her savings before it was too late. Can't spend it when you're dead.
All three phones buzzed simultaneously.
They checked their screens. A notification from the school network.
"Huh?! Classes start tomorrow?!"
Chika's shriek could have shattered glass.
"No way! After everything that happened yesterday, we only get one day off?" Moeha's jaw dropped.
The message explained: due to extensive damage to Shuchiin Academy, all students and faculty would temporarily merge with Totsuki Academy until reconstruction was complete.
Classes would resume as scheduled.
__________________
*The Bonus Chapter*
Sorry for the late update