Ren's POV
There were several reliable indicators that peace had genuinely returned to Saitama. Reconstruction crews no longer occupied every major road, emergency broadcasts had become rare enough that people stopped flinching whenever their phones vibrated, and the Guild had finally reduced the number of armed patrols surrounding residential districts. Aaron had even managed to go almost forty-eight hours without calling me about something he insisted required my immediate attention.
More importantly, the girls' school had finally reopened. This should have been entirely good news. It was good news, technically, except it was six forty-seven in the morning and Karin had somehow lost one sock despite possessing both of them the previous evening.
"I had two yesterday," Karin insisted from beneath the dining table, where she had apparently concluded crawling around on her hands and knees offered the greatest chance of solving the mystery. Her uniform was only half buttoned, one sock covered her right leg, and the back of her hair had developed enough independent structure that Ria had not even attempted to fix it yet. "Socks don't just disappear, Papa. Something happened to it."
From the kitchen, I looked over the rim of my coffee while checking the eggs on the stove. "You say that like you've never lived in this house. We lose things here often enough that I'm considering investigating the sofa for spatial anomalies."
Karin crawled backward until her head emerged from beneath the table and stared at me with genuine offense. "Papa, this is serious."
"I can tell," I replied, turning back toward breakfast while she disappeared beneath the furniture again with renewed determination.
Ruri stood several steps away with her schoolbag already secured neatly over both shoulders. She had packed everything the previous evening, placed her shoes beside the entrance, checked her worksheets twice, and was currently holding Karin's missing workbook because she had found it beneath the sofa five minutes earlier.
"Karin, maybe you should check your room again," Ruri suggested, although her eyes drifted toward the sofa with visible suspicion. She hugged the rescued workbook against her chest before adding, "Or maybe under there. I found your workbook under the sofa, so your sock could be there too."
Karin stopped moving beneath the table.
I noticed the sudden silence. Ruri noticed it too, and even Hikari, who was currently rotating slowly in place while Ria attempted to gather her hair, turned her head toward the table.
"Karin," Ria called from the living room, and the calmness of my wife's voice carried considerably more danger than shouting would have.
Our middle daughter slowly raised her head.
Ria had a small hair tie held between her lips while both hands were occupied gathering Hikari's golden hair into something resembling order. Her own silver hair had already been tied loosely behind her head, leaving several strands framing her face, and she wore a cream blouse beneath a dark cardigan that made her look remarkably ordinary for someone whose horns and demonic power had been visible on national television less than two months earlier.
Ria removed the hair tie from between her lips and narrowed her crimson eyes. "Where is your workbook usually supposed to be, Karin?"
"My bag?" Karin answered cautiously, her voice rising at the end as though she hoped making it a question might reduce legal liability.
Without saying anything, Ruri lifted the workbook higher.
Ria looked toward it, then slowly returned her attention to Karin. "And where did your sister find it?"
Karin's shoulders sank. "Under the sofa."
Ria closed her eyes for a moment and drew in a patient breath through her nose. When she opened them again, she had the expression of a woman who had commanded armies and somehow found this significantly more exhausting.
I took another drink of coffee. "Former Demon Queen defeated by elementary-school logistics."
Ria's gaze snapped toward me immediately. Her expression remained deceptively calm, but one corner of her mouth tightened while she pointed Hikari's hair tie in my direction. "Keep talking, dear, and Papa can do everyone's hair tomorrow morning. I am sure your mastery over all elements includes ponytails."
I turned back toward the stove with admirable discipline. "Your leadership remains unquestioned."
"That's what I thought," Ria replied, slipping the hair tie around her fingers again while a smug little smile appeared on her face.
Hikari, meanwhile, had resumed rotating.
Ria looked down at her, then briefly toward the ceiling as though searching for patience somewhere above us. "Sweetheart, please stop moving."
"Hikari is not moving," Hikari replied with complete sincerity as Ria gently caught her by both shoulders and turned her back toward the correct direction.
She rotated another quarter turn.
Ria's mouth opened slightly before she slowly looked toward me. The expression on my wife's face contained exhaustion, disbelief, and a silent request that I acknowledge the suffering she endured as a mother.
I raised my coffee toward her in solidarity.
Ria's eyes narrowed further.
Apparently that had not been the appropriate response.
She physically turned Hikari around again and kept both hands on her shoulders. "You are moving."
Hikari tilted her head. "Hikari is turning."
"That is a form of moving," Ria explained, her voice maintaining heroic patience despite the twitch developing near one eyebrow.
Hikari considered that correction with genuine seriousness while Ria finally secured the hair tie. The moment Mama released her, Hikari reached up, touched both sides of her newly arranged hair, and looked toward Ria with bright golden eyes.
"Hikari pretty?"
Every trace of exasperation disappeared from Ria's face. She crouched in front of our youngest daughter, straightened the small collar of Hikari's uniform, and carefully brushed a loose strand away from her cheek.
"Very pretty," Ria assured her. "Mama worked extremely hard while somebody kept turning in circles."
Hikari beamed at the compliment and immediately wrapped both arms around Ria's neck. The sudden hug rocked my wife backward slightly, but Ria laughed and caught her, one arm wrapping around Hikari's small back while she kissed her temple.
"Hikari loves Mama," Hikari announced against her shoulder.
Ria's crimson eyes softened completely. "Mama loves Hikari too."
I watched the two of them for a moment longer than necessary. Three years ago, Astrea von Velmora had been a name attached to battlefield reports, destroyed cities, and a kingdom most humans understood primarily through fear. Now she was crouched on our living-room floor fixing an elementary-school uniform while one of our daughters clung happily around her neck.
Retirement remained strange.
"Papa," Ruri called, pulling my attention toward the sofa. Our eldest daughter stood there holding Karin's second sock between two fingers, and judging by the faint resignation on her face, the mystery had reached an embarrassingly predictable conclusion.
Karin shot upright so quickly beneath the table that she struck her shoulder against the underside. She winced, rubbed the spot, then hurried toward Ruri with both eyes fixed on the recovered item.
"Where was it?" Karin demanded.
Ruri pointed toward the sofa with the weary expression of someone presenting evidence in a case she had never wanted to investigate. "Under there. Almost beside your workbook."
Karin stared at the sofa.
Ria slowly turned her head toward her.
I took another drink of coffee.
"Okay," Karin said, lifting both hands defensively before Mama could speak, "but that still doesn't prove the sofa is stealing things. Maybe I just accidentally put both things near it."
Ria pressed two fingertips against her temple. "Put your sock on before I decide the sofa is the most responsible member of this conversation."
Karin obeyed without further argument.
By seven twenty, everyone had eaten, the missing sock had been recovered, schoolbags were properly packed, and no additional pieces of clothing had vanished into mysterious household dimensions. Ruri checked the time twice before gently herding her sisters toward the entrance, while Hikari carried her lunchbox in both hands as though transporting diplomatic documents between hostile nations.
Ria stood near the door and gave all three girls one final inspection before we left. She fixed Karin's crooked collar, brushed a wrinkle from Ruri's sleeve, then crouched again to adjust Hikari's name tag even though it was already perfectly straight.
I leaned against the wall and watched her work.
Ria noticed after several seconds and glanced toward me while one hand remained near Hikari's collar. "What?"
"Nothing."
Her crimson eyes narrowed immediately. "That face is not nothing. You have that annoying expression you wear when you are thinking something and waiting for me to notice."
"I was just thinking you're good at this."
Ria's hands stopped.
For a moment, she simply looked at me. The irritation disappeared first, followed by surprise, and something warmer settled into her expression before she lowered her eyes and pretended Hikari's already-straight name tag required another adjustment.
"I have had practice," Ria replied quietly.
Karin, unfortunately, had heard the exchange and immediately glanced between us. "Mama used to be bad?"
Ria's head snapped toward her.
I looked away.
Ruri intervened before the misunderstanding could become fatal. "Mama wasn't bad. Papa means Mama is really used to doing everything now."
Karin frowned thoughtfully, clearly dissatisfied with an explanation that lacked controversy. "Then why did Papa say Mama is good now?"
Ria slowly rose to her full height and turned toward me. I could feel the accusation arriving before she even said my name.
"Ren."
"I meant you've gotten natural at it," I explained, raising one hand before she could prosecute me. "You don't stop to wonder whether you're doing Mama things anymore. You just see something the girls need and do it."
That stopped her.
Ria's expression softened again, and the faintest warmth spread across the tips of her ears. She looked toward Ruri, Karin, and Hikari as though needing somewhere else to direct her eyes before returning her attention to me.
"That explanation should have arrived first," she murmured.
"It arrived eventually."
Her eyes narrowed, but the blush along her ears ruined whatever threat she intended. When we finally left the condo, she slipped her hand through mine anyway and kept it there all the way to the elevator.
The drive to school felt familiar in ways I had not expected. The girls talked over one another from the back seat, Ruri reminded Karin not to forget the worksheet she had personally rescued, and Hikari spent several minutes wondering whether her teacher would notice that she had grown taller during the closure.
Ria listened with one elbow resting near the window, occasionally twisting around in her seat to answer them. Morning sunlight flashed along her silver hair whenever she moved, and at some point her other hand settled comfortably over mine beside the center console.
There had been a time when she would have pulled away immediately if one of the girls noticed.
Now she barely seemed aware she was doing it.
School traffic began several blocks before the entrance. Parents guided children across pedestrian crossings, bicycles crowded the designated racks, and students in bright uniforms flowed toward the gate in noisy groups. Humans walked beside elves and beastkin as naturally as they always had, while a dwarven father crouched near the curb to tighten the strap of his daughter's backpack.
The entire scene felt reassuringly ordinary. That was what everyone had fought to recover—not silence, not grandeur, and certainly not ceremonies. Just mornings where parents worried about schoolbags instead of evacuation routes.
I pulled Fluffy into the parent drop-off area and parked. The girls immediately started reaching for their doors, but Ria's hand paused over the passenger handle when the security guard near the entrance looked toward us.
I remembered him from Family Day. Back then, he had greeted us normally, checked our names, and directed us toward the correct building without anything more dramatic than a polite smile.
Today, his spine straightened so violently that I became concerned he had injured himself.
Ria noticed too. "He did not do that last time."
She watched the man struggle to decide whether he should salute, bow, or continue pretending this was an ordinary morning.
I glanced toward him before looking back at my wife. "Last time he didn't know you were the Demon Queen."
Ria immediately turned toward me. "Former."
"Historical accuracy matters."
She gave me a flat look, opened the passenger door, and stepped outside before I could improve the situation.
The effect was immediate. A mother walking beside an elf child slowed in the middle of a sentence, two fathers near the bicycle racks leaned toward each other and whispered before looking back at us, and a teacher near the front steps froze with a clipboard halfway against her chest. Several older students watching from an upper-floor window apparently communicated through some hidden network, because their numbers doubled within seconds.
I closed Fluffy's door and joined the family.
Ria walked around the front of the car, and beneath the weight of all those eyes her posture automatically shifted. Her shoulders straightened, her chin lifted slightly, and one hand brushed along the side of her skirt as the elegant public version of Astrea von Velmora began slipping into place.
Then Hikari grabbed her hand.
"Mama, hurry," Hikari urged, bouncing once on her toes. "Hikari wants see classroom."
Ria looked down, and the regal composure softened instantly. "All right, sweetheart."
She gave Hikari's hand a gentle squeeze as they started toward the gate.
Karin caught my hand a moment later and tugged hard enough to pull me half a step forward. "Papa, come on. We're going to be late."
"We have twelve minutes."
Karin looked at me as though I had misunderstood basic mathematics. "That's almost late."
Walking between her sisters, Ruri sighed. "It isn't almost late. We have plenty of time if Karin stops pulling Papa around."
The whispers surrounding us grew more obvious as we crossed the drop-off area. People tried to keep their voices low, but being an Archmage had provided me with enough enhanced perception to make privacy around me generally unsuccessful.
"That's Ren Arclight."
"No way."
"And that's Astrea—"
"Ria Arclight."
"The two SS-ranks?"
"Their daughters actually go here?"
I glanced toward my wife.
Ria glanced toward me.
Karin continued dragging me forward as though the country's sudden fascination with her parents was merely another obstacle between her and class.
That was probably the correct attitude.
When we reached the entrance, the security guard swallowed visibly. He began to bow, appeared to reconsider halfway through, then somehow transformed the entire movement into an awkward nod.
"G-good morning, Arclight-san. Mrs. Arclight."
"Morning," I replied, deliberately keeping my tone casual.
Ria offered him a gentle smile. "Good morning."
Some of the tension immediately left the man's shoulders.
Then Hikari waved enthusiastically with her free hand. "Good morning! Hikari is back!"
The guard's expression softened completely. "Welcome back, Hikari-chan. It's good to see you again."
That restored reality for approximately thirty seconds.
The first autograph request came before we even reached the main building. A father approached from our left holding a small school notebook against his chest. I recognized him vaguely from Family Day, although I could not immediately remember which child belonged to him. The easy manner he had possessed back then had been replaced by visible uncertainty, and he stopped several respectful steps away.
"Ren-san," the man began before hesitating. He looked toward the girls, then back toward me with an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry. This is probably inappropriate at school, but my son and I watched the Saitama broadcast together. Would you mind signing something?"
He held out the notebook.
I looked at it, then at him, before glancing toward Ria. My wife already had one hand near her mouth, and the slight curve of her eyes told me she was trying very hard not to enjoy this.
"At school too?" I asked.
The father immediately started apologizing, but I raised one hand before he could retreat entirely. "It's fine. I'm still adjusting to the idea that my handwriting apparently has market value."
The man laughed, and most of the tension left his face. He handed me the notebook, and I signed the inside cover while his son watched from several meters away with an expression suggesting he had witnessed an important historical event.
Unfortunately, everyone else noticed.
The realization that we were apparently approachable traveled through the entrance crowd with frightening efficiency. A second parent stepped forward holding a folded PTA flyer, another man eventually offered the back of a grocery receipt because he had nothing better available, and an older student produced a Hunter magazine from his bag with suspicious speed.
Ria received her own requests almost immediately. One woman handed her a small planner, another parent produced a school newsletter, and one particularly determined elven boy stepped forward clutching his pencil case in both hands.
Ria looked down at the offered object before crouching slightly so they were closer to eye level. "You want me to sign your pencil case?"
The boy nodded so enthusiastically that his long ears almost moved with him.
A smile touched Ria's lips. "All right. Hold it still for me."
She accepted the marker, carefully signed one corner of the fabric, and returned the case with both hands. The boy stared down at her signature with open awe before pressing the pencil case against his chest.
"Thank you, Ria-san!"
"You're welcome," Ria replied warmly, watching him hurry back toward his mother.
Her gaze lingered after him for several seconds, and I noticed the softness in her expression.
Naturally, she noticed me noticing.
"Do not start," Ria warned, although she still wasn't looking at me.
"I didn't say anything."
"You were going to."
"Probably."
Ria finally looked toward me, rolled her eyes, then quietly slipped her fingers back through mine.
The next autograph request was not directed toward either of us.
A small beastkin boy stood several steps away staring at Hikari. His ears twitched nervously before he finally gathered enough courage to approach with a tiny memo pad held between both hands.
"Hikari-chan?" he asked.
Hikari looked toward him, her golden eyes widening slightly.
The boy swallowed. "Can I have your autograph too?"
Our youngest daughter froze.
Ria looked down at her.
I did the same.
Beside us, Karin immediately started grinning.
Hikari slowly pointed toward her own chest. "Hikari?"
The boy nodded.
Something shifted in her face.
Absolute seriousness descended.
Hikari accepted the pencil and placed the memo pad against Ria's open palm because she needed a writing surface. Her little tongue pressed against one corner of her mouth while she carefully formed each letter of her name in large uneven strokes.
When she finished, she added an enormous star.
"Hikari autograph," she announced proudly, handing it back with both hands.
The boy's entire face brightened. "Thank you!"
He hurried back toward his family.
Hikari remained completely still for several seconds, watching him leave. Then she turned toward us with shining golden eyes and lifted her chin with newfound importance.
"Hikari celebrity now."
Karin burst out laughing so hard she had to grab Ruri's shoulder, while Ruri covered her mouth and tried unsuccessfully to preserve some dignity on behalf of the family. Ria, meanwhile, slowly turned toward me with accusation already appearing in her expression.
"This is your fault," my wife declared.
I raised both eyebrows. "How?"
Ria folded one arm across her chest while keeping Hikari's hand in the other. "I haven't decided yet, but I am certain you are involved."
"That seems legally questionable."
"I will develop evidence later."
I nodded solemnly. "Fair enough."
Two teachers eventually intervened and gently reminded everyone that classes still existed. With their assistance, we escaped the entrance area before Karin decided she deserved autographs too.
Inside the school building, however, the atmosphere remained strange. Teachers who had known us before smiled awkwardly whenever we passed, while parents who had chatted casually with us during Family Day suddenly seemed unsure whether they should shake our hands, bow deeply, or maintain a respectful distance.
The children cared considerably less.
Karin spotted one of her classmates near the shoe lockers and immediately hurried over, nearly forgetting her indoor shoes until Ruri grabbed the back of her bag and pulled her to a stop.
"Karin, your shoes," Ruri reminded her, pointing toward the locker with a tired little smile. "You're going to get halfway to class before you notice."
Karin looked down at her outdoor shoes before grinning sheepishly. "I would've noticed."
"You forgot your workbook under the sofa."
"That was different."
Ruri gave her a look that made it very clear she disagreed.
Hikari stayed attached to Ria's hand until another child waved enthusiastically from farther down the corridor. Then somebody called our names, and both Ria and I turned toward the familiar voice.
"Ren-san? Ria-san?"
A woman stood several meters away with her daughter beside her.
I remembered her.
She had sat near us during Family Day, shared fruit with the girls beneath the trees, and spent nearly twenty minutes talking with Ria about children refusing vegetables.
Back then, she had called my wife Ria without hesitation.
Today, she looked uncertain.
Ria recognized her too. Her face brightened automatically before the smile faltered slightly when she noticed the woman's hesitation.
"Good morning," Ria greeted her warmly, taking a small step closer.
The woman smiled back, although awkwardness remained around her eyes. "Good morning. I wasn't sure whether I should still call you Ria-san or... Astrea-sama."
Ria stared at her for perhaps one second.
Then I saw the exact moment she understood.
Her shoulders relaxed, and a mischievous little curve appeared at the corner of her mouth.
"If you call me Astrea-sama at school," Ria said, "I will assume you are asking me to conquer the PTA."
The woman blinked.
Then she burst out laughing.
Whatever tension had been sitting between them disappeared almost immediately. Ria smiled with her and stepped closer, her expression returning to the same familiar warmth she had shown during Family Day.
"Ria is fine. Please," she assured the woman. "How is Mio?"
The woman's daughter lifted one hand shyly from beside her mother.
Ria crouched to greet her directly, and within less than a minute the conversation had returned to exactly what it used to be—assignments, lunch preferences, and whether the repaired playground equipment was safe enough for children who believed gravity was optional.
I stood nearby and watched.
Nothing about Ria herself had changed in that conversation.
Everything around her had.
A father approached me a moment later and seemed to experience his own crisis regarding forms of address. His shoulders straightened as he stopped in front of me, and after a brief internal struggle he apparently selected the most dangerous option available.
"Arclight-sama—"
I raised one hand. "Please don't."
The man stopped, visibly confused. "SS-rank Arclight-san?"
"Worse."
He looked increasingly helpless. "Archmage-san?"
"Much worse."
The father stared at me for another second before trying cautiously, "Ren-san?"
I nodded. "Perfect."
Ria heard the exchange and covered her mouth with one hand, but the slight shake of her shoulders made the laughter obvious. The father relaxed too, apparently reassured by the discovery that national fame had not made me any more dignified.
By the time we reached the classroom wing, most of the initial tension had dissolved. Familiar parents had started treating us normally again, although strangers still glanced our way and several children kept whispering whenever they thought we could not hear them.
One boy leaned toward Karin and asked, "Is your Papa really the strongest Hunter?"
Karin puffed her chest out immediately. "Probably."
I looked toward her.
She caught my expression and quickly corrected herself. "One of them. Papa says rankings are complicated."
"That's better," I said, giving her an approving nod.
Another child looked toward Ria. "Is your Mama really the Demon King?"
Karin's expression changed instantly.
"Queen," she corrected, sounding personally offended on Ria's behalf. "Former Demon Queen."
Several steps away, Ria turned her head, and a tiny flash of pride appeared in her crimson eyes before she tried to hide it.
Then the boy asked the dangerous question.
"Is she scary at home?"
Karin paused.
That pause concerned me.
Ria subtly straightened.
The answer mattered to her significantly more than she intended anyone to notice.
Karin thought for several seconds before pointing directly toward me. "Mama gets scary when Papa leaves his socks on the floor."
The children went quiet.
I slowly looked toward my wife.
Ria slowly looked toward me.
Then the entire group broke into laughter.
"I do not leave them there often," I said, attempting to preserve what remained of my reputation.
Ria crossed her arms and lifted one eyebrow. "Often enough that the children know about it."
The boy looked delighted. "The Demon Queen gets mad about socks?"
"Former Demon Queen," Karin corrected for the third time. "And yes. Mama also gets mad when Papa forgets cups beside the sofa."
I looked at her. "Why are you providing additional evidence?"
Karin grinned.
Ria looked extremely satisfied.
Her dignity had survived wars. Apparently mine would not survive lower grade school.
Another classmate turned toward Ruri and asked what I usually did at home.
Ruri answered without hesitation, "Papa naps a lot."
I nodded once. "Accurate."
One of the children giggled, and another immediately turned toward Hikari. "What does your Mama do at home?"
Hikari's entire face brightened.
Ria's crimson eyes widened slightly.
I knew disaster was arriving about one second before it did.
"Mama plays Honor of Kings," Hikari announced proudly, pointing toward Ria as though presenting a professional esports player. "Mama still Diamond."
Ria stopped breathing.
Karin folded forward laughing, while Ruri covered her entire face with both hands.
The surrounding children reacted with delighted confusion. One asked which hero Mama used, another wanted to know whether Demon Queens were naturally good at ranked games, and a third child began explaining very loudly that his older brother was already Grandmaster.
Ria slowly turned toward Hikari. "Sweetheart."
Hikari looked up at her innocently. "Hikari tells truth."
I turned toward the nearest window before my expression betrayed me.
Ria noticed immediately. "Ren."
My shoulders moved once.
"Do not laugh," she warned.
"I'm not."
"You are facing away because you are laughing."
I attempted to regain control.
Karin destroyed whatever chance I had.
"Mama likes Luffy too," she announced to the entire group with the confidence of someone contributing important biographical information.
Ria froze.
I closed my eyes.
Ruri apparently decided context might rescue the situation. "Mama wore his straw hat at the convention yesterday."
It did not rescue anything.
Half the children immediately started talking at once, asking whether she had met Luffy, whether there had been a Zoro cosplayer, and most dangerously, whether we had pictures.
Ria turned toward me with terrifying calm.
I had not moved.
My phone remained safely in my pocket.
She pointed one finger directly at me. "Do not even think about it."
"I wasn't planning to show them anything."
Ria narrowed her eyes. "Give me your phone."
"That seems excessive."
"Ren."
I kept my hands visible.
Fortunately, a teacher arrived before our marriage became a hostage negotiation.
The school reopening orientation began shortly afterward, and parents were seated near the back while teachers reviewed updated safety procedures, reconstruction changes, emergency Gate protocols, and the revised school calendar. There were enough forms involved that I briefly reconsidered whether saving civilization had actually been less complicated.
Ria sat beside me and listened with considerably more attention. I was halfway through my second page when she leaned closer and tapped one blank section with the tip of her pen.
"You forgot Hikari's emergency contact," she whispered.
"I was going to write it."
Ria glanced toward the next page already resting in my hand. "You skipped the box and moved on."
"I noticed after."
Her eyes narrowed slightly. "You noticed after I pointed at it."
"That still counts as noticing."
Ria stared at me for another moment before holding out one hand. "Give me the form."
I passed it over without resistance.
The former Queen of Velmora filled in our daughter's emergency contact details with the irritated competence of a mother who had long since accepted that her husband could manipulate spatial dimensions more reliably than school paperwork.
Watching her made me think about Family Day again. Back then, Ria had still been learning how naturally the word Mama could belong to her and how easily she could fit into something as mundane as a school activity.
Now she did not hesitate at all.
When orientation ended, the teachers invited parents to discuss how the children had handled remote lessons and the interruption caused by the Convergence Incident.
Ruri's teacher began with praise.
"She's been wonderful," the teacher said, smiling warmly while Ruri stood between us with both hands folded in front of her skirt. "Even with all the disruptions, she helped several classmates organize missed assignments. She's responsible, attentive, and usually notices when somebody needs help before anyone asks."
Ria looked down at our eldest with unmistakable pride.
Ruri's cheeks immediately turned pink.
I rested one hand gently on her head. "Sounds familiar. You do half the household management too."
Ruri looked up at me in immediate protest. "Papa, I do not."
Beside her, Ria placed one hand over her chest and widened her eyes with exaggerated offense. "That accusation is hurtful. Mama manages the household perfectly well."
Ruri stared at her.
Ria lasted approximately two seconds before the corners of her mouth began moving.
"Mama," Ruri complained softly, a reluctant smile appearing despite herself.
Ria laughed and wrapped one arm around her shoulders, pulling her into a brief side hug. "You do help too much sometimes. Thank you."
Ruri's embarrassment deepened, but she leaned into the hug anyway. "I just don't want everyone forgetting things."
I looked toward her.
Ruri noticed.
"Especially Karin," she added.
From several steps away, Karin immediately protested. "Hey!"
Ruri's smile became innocent.
Karin's teacher was significantly more diplomatic.
"Karin is bright, engaged, energetic, and highly motivated," she explained carefully while Karin stood beside us with suspiciously perfect posture. "She participates enthusiastically in almost every activity."
I nodded slowly. "There is a but approaching."
The teacher's smile tightened.
"But she can sometimes become slightly too competitive."
Ria glanced toward Karin.
Karin immediately looked away.
"How competitive?" I asked.
The teacher adjusted the folder against her chest before answering. "We recently had to explain that recess is not a ranked mode."
I looked toward my daughter.
Karin suddenly found the classroom ceiling fascinating.
Beside me, Ria turned her face away. Her shoulders moved once, and one hand rose toward her lips in an unsuccessful attempt to hide her reaction.
I narrowed my eyes. "You're laughing."
"I am not," Ria claimed.
"You understand her."
Ria eventually regained enough composure to face me. "That proves nothing."
I thought about saying Diamond One.
Then I looked at her expression.
Marriage had taught me restraint.
Occasionally.
Hikari's teacher waited for us next.
She had a folder.
A thick folder.
I looked at it.
Then at Hikari.
Our youngest daughter smiled brightly. "Hikari good student."
The teacher smiled too, but there was something suspiciously careful about it. "Hikari is wonderful. She is also very imaginative."
That particular adjective concerned me.
The folder opened.
The first drawing showed me surrounded by blue scribbles while several monsters appeared to be exploding in different directions. Hikari immediately pointed toward the central figure with tremendous pride.
"This Papa."
"I gathered," I replied, examining my rectangular arms and apparently enormous head.
The next drawing showed Ria wearing a crown, enormous horns, and enough purple crayon energy to destroy most of the paper.
Ria leaned closer, one eyebrow rising. "Why are Mama's horns that large?"
Hikari smiled proudly. "Hikari made Mama cool."
Whatever complaint Ria had prepared disappeared immediately. Her eyes softened, and she lightly rubbed Hikari's hair.
"Then Mama has no objections."
Another page showed Karin surrounded by red crayon flames.
Karin stared at the picture in disbelief. "Why am I on fire?"
Hikari pointed toward her sister as though the answer were obvious. "Karin likes fire."
"That doesn't mean I'm always burning!"
Ruri leaned over to inspect the picture and tried not to smile. "It does kind of look like you."
Karin turned toward her in betrayal. "Ruri!"
"I said kind of."
Ruri appeared in the next drawing with an enormous book nearly the size of her body. She blinked at it before looking toward Hikari.
"Why is my book bigger than I am?"
Hikari immediately answered, "Ruri reads lots."
Ruri considered that for a moment before nodding. "Okay. That's fair."
Ruruka had been drawn holding a sword surrounded by green wind, while Vael stood nearby carrying what appeared to be seven shopping bags as Seris drank coffee beside him.
I covered my mouth.
Ria noticed immediately.
"Do not," she warned, although her own lips were already twitching.
"I didn't say anything."
"You were going to."
The teacher turned another page.
I stopped.
A smiling car occupied the center of the drawing. A bowl had been placed directly in front of it, and black liquid filled the bowl.
Across the top of the page, in uneven handwriting, Hikari had proudly written:
FLUFFY EATS OIL
The teacher looked toward me with careful curiosity. "Is Fluffy... a family pet?"
A strangled noise escaped Ria.
I turned toward her.
Her lips were pressed together so tightly they had nearly disappeared, and her shoulders were already shaking.
"No," I answered. "Fluffy is our car."
The teacher blinked.
Hikari immediately lifted one finger and explained with great confidence, "Fluffy engine gets hungry."
Ria lost the battle completely.
She covered her mouth with both hands and bent forward while laughter shook through her shoulders. Karin immediately joined her, while Ruri lowered her face into one palm and visibly reconsidered whether she wanted to be associated with the rest of us.
The teacher stared at the family for another moment.
I sighed. "There was a misunderstanding during maintenance."
"That explanation somehow makes me more curious," she admitted, smiling despite herself.
Ruri peeked through her fingers and looked toward me. "Papa, you did tell them not to feed Fluffy anything without asking you."
"That statement was taken out of context."
Karin pointed toward me. "Then I asked about gasoline."
"You made it worse."
"I made it accurate."
Ria's laughter intensified.
The teacher turned another page before our family could continue litigating automotive nutrition.
Ria's laughter stopped instantly.
I recognized the drawing.
Silver hair.
Straw hat.
Red vest.
Mama.
I looked toward my wife.
Ria looked toward me.
The teacher brightened as she examined it. "Oh! Mrs. Arclight, are you a One Piece fan?"
Ria became perfectly still.
Her crimson eyes moved toward me with terrible slowness. "Ren."
"I did not draw it."
"You provided the source material."
"Hikari clearly exercised artistic independence."
Hikari proudly tapped the drawing. "Mama Luffy."
Ria closed her eyes while the teacher laughed softly.
Ruri studied the drawing and then glanced at Mama with a small smile. "It actually looks cute."
Ria opened one eye. "Ruri."
"What? It does."
Ria looked betrayed by the daughter she had previously considered responsible.
I decided the meeting had gone exceptionally well.
The final conversation of the morning happened outside the classroom. A Velmoran woman stood near the corridor window with a young girl beside her. The child had small dark horns curving backward from her temples, and although her uniform matched everyone else's, she kept both hands tightly wrapped around the straps of her schoolbag.
Her mother noticed Ria.
The woman stiffened instinctively.
Then she hesitated.
Ria saw it.
The change in my wife was immediate.
She released my hand and approached them at an unhurried pace, careful not to make either mother or daughter feel cornered. The woman lowered her head automatically, old instinct pulling the movement from her before she could stop herself.
"Your Maj—"
Ria gently lifted one hand. "Ria is fine."
Her voice was soft enough that the correction carried no authority or command.
The mother looked uncertain, but after a moment she nodded.
Her daughter remained half hidden behind her.
Instead of asking the girl to step forward, Ria crouched. Her silver hair slipped over one shoulder while she rested one hand lightly against her knee.
"What is your name?" Ria asked.
The girl peeked toward her from behind her mother's sleeve. "Lysa."
Ria smiled gently. "What do you like, Lysa?"
The question appeared to surprise both of them.
Lysa looked toward the floor before answering quietly. "Drawing."
Ria tilted her head with interest. "What do you draw?"
"Dinosaurs."
My wife blinked.
I smiled.
Lysa's mother looked faintly embarrassed. "She is currently very interested in them."
"There is nothing wrong with dinosaurs," Ria replied immediately.
Hikari, who had overheard from several steps away, hurried over before anyone could stop her. "Hikari likes dragons."
Lysa looked toward her.
Hikari nodded with great seriousness. "Hikari also likes dinosaurs."
That was apparently enough.
The two children began talking almost immediately, and Hikari crouched beside Lysa to inspect a dinosaur sticker attached to her notebook. Karin wandered over shortly afterward, while Ruri followed at a more measured pace.
Their mothers watched them for several seconds before Lysa's mother turned back toward Ria. Concern remained around the woman's eyes, and her fingers tightened around the strap of her handbag.
"She's one of the first Velmoran children in this school," the woman admitted quietly. "Everyone has been kind, but I worry she'll feel like she has to prove something."
The small smile disappeared from Ria's face.
Not into anger.
Into understanding.
Lysa's mother glanced toward her daughter. "That she has to behave perfectly so nobody thinks badly of our people. I don't want every mistake she makes to feel like something larger."
Ria followed her gaze.
Lysa was now showing Hikari another dinosaur sticker. Karin had started asking which dinosaur was strongest, while Ruri stood nearby attempting to explain that strength depended on what they were comparing.
"Are we talking bite force, size, or who would win in a fight?" Ruri asked patiently.
Karin looked at her as though the answer should have been obvious. "Who would win."
Ruri sighed. "Of course."
The completely ordinary argument drew the faintest smile from Ria.
Then she returned her attention to Lysa's mother.
"She does not have to represent Velmora," Ria said.
The woman looked back at her.
Ria's voice remained gentle, but there was certainty beneath it. "She is a child. Let her be one. If she is loud, let her teacher tell her to be quiet. If she forgets homework, let her be scolded because she forgot homework, not because she is Velmoran."
The mother's lips parted slightly.
Ria continued watching the children. "If she makes friends, let them argue over something ridiculous and make up five minutes later. If she dislikes vegetables, let that be your greatest political crisis for the week."
A small smile returned to her face.
"She does not owe anyone perfection."
The woman's eyes began to shine. Her shoulders, which had remained tight since we approached, gradually relaxed.
"Thank you," she whispered.
Ria shook her head gently. "You don't need to thank me."
Before the conversation could become heavier, Lysa suddenly hurried toward another group of children farther down the corridor. A human boy called her name, an elf girl waved enthusiastically, and a small cat-beastkin child held up what looked like a collection of stickers.
Karin immediately followed.
Hikari went with her.
Ruri hesitated only long enough to turn toward us. "We're going over there with them, okay?"
Ria nodded. "Stay where the teachers can see you."
"We will," Ruri promised before hurrying after her sisters.
Nobody stopped them.
Nobody stared.
Nobody cared that one of the children had Velmoran horns.
Ria watched them disappear into the group, and her face became very still.
I stepped beside her.
She did not look toward me, but after several seconds her hand moved sideways until her fingers found mine.
I closed my hand around hers.
Neither of us needed to say anything.
A teacher passed behind us carrying several folders. She slowed briefly, looked toward the children, then toward Ria with a warm smile.
"Mrs. Arclight?"
Ria turned.
The teacher's smile widened slightly. "Your daughters are very lucky."
Before Ria could answer, the woman continued down the corridor.
My wife remained frozen.
I looked toward her.
Warm color was already spreading across her ears.
She noticed my expression immediately and narrowed her crimson eyes. "Do not."
"I didn't say anything."
"You were going to."
"Probably."
Ria looked away, but she could not hide the smile forming at the corners of her mouth. Her fingers tightened gently around mine as we waited for the first bell.
When it finally rang, the girls returned to us.
Ruri hugged both of us before stepping back and adjusting her bag. "We'll see you later, Papa. Mama."
"We'll be here," Ria promised, smoothing Ruri's hair once before letting her go.
Karin hugged Ria first, then me, and pointed one finger toward us with remarkable seriousness. "Don't embarrass me when you pick us up."
I looked toward Ria.
Ria looked toward me.
Karin immediately became suspicious. "I mean it."
"We'll try," I replied.
"That answer worries me."
Ruri grabbed Karin lightly by the sleeve. "Come on. We're going to be late if you keep threatening Papa."
"We still have time."
Ruri smiled. "Now who thinks twelve minutes isn't almost late?"
Karin stared at her.
Ruri looked extremely pleased with herself.
Hikari, meanwhile, wrapped both arms around Ria's waist and tilted her face upward. "Mama comes back?"
Ria immediately crouched and pulled her close. "Of course Mama comes back. We'll be here after class."
Hikari looked toward me. "Papa too?"
I rested one hand gently on her head. "Unfortunately."
She giggled.
Ria gave me an exasperated look. "Stop teaching her that word."
"Hikari already knows unfortunately," Hikari announced proudly.
Ria sighed, but the smile remained.
Hikari kissed Mama's cheek, hugged me around the waist, then hurried after her sisters while waving until she disappeared through the classroom door.
The corridor became quieter afterward, although never truly silent. Children talked behind doors, teachers moved between rooms carrying stacks of papers, and parents gradually began filtering toward the exits.
Ria remained beside me.
Her fingers slipped through mine again.
During Family Day, she had still been discovering what it meant to stand in this building as Mama. She had been learning how naturally the girls reached for her, how easily other parents accepted her beside me, and how much she wanted that ordinary place in their lives.
Today, nobody needed to teach her anything.
She belonged here.
So did I, apparently.
That part remained less believable.
We made it halfway toward the school entrance before someone called our names from behind. A group of parents had gathered near the courtyard, several phones were already raised, and one woman stood slightly ahead of the others with an apologetic smile.
"Ren-san, Ria-san! Sorry, but could we get one group picture before you leave?"
I stared at the waiting cameras before glancing toward my wife. "We're never escaping this."
Ria's mouth curved with amusement. She squeezed my hand and started pulling me back toward the group. "You'll get used to being famous eventually."
I followed for several steps before looking toward her. "You wore Luffy's hat yesterday. You've already adapted considerably faster than I have."
Ria's smile disappeared.
She slowly turned her head toward me. "That has absolutely nothing to do with this."
"It demonstrates rapid adaptation to celebrity culture."
"Ren."
"Cultural observation."
Her crimson eyes narrowed. "You are deeply irritating."
"You married me."
Ria released a long, theatrical sigh, but instead of letting go she slipped her arm through mine and leaned lightly against my shoulder as we approached the waiting parents.
"Unfortunately," she murmured, although her fingers tightened affectionately around my arm.
I smiled.
Somewhere inside the school building, Hikari's voice suddenly carried through an open window with enough volume to reach the courtyard.
"HIKARI CELEBRITY!"
Ria stopped walking.
I looked toward the window.
Then toward my wife.
Her eyes slowly closed, and her lips pressed together as she fought against the smile trying to appear.
"This is still your fault," she muttered.
I laughed, and the waiting cameras caught that exact moment.
By lunchtime, the picture would probably be everywhere.
Apparently normal school days had changed too.
I could live with that.
*****
End of Chapter 69
Arclight Parenting Status:
Parents:
Ren Arclight — Retired Archmage / Dragon Dad / School Paperwork Liability
Ria Arclight — Former Demon Queen / Dragon Mom / PTA Conquest Threat
Current Family Objective:
Return daughters to school
Complete reopening orientation
Avoid embarrassing children
Children Under Protection:
Ruri — Ice / Emotional Anchor / Household Logistics Assistant
Karin — Fire / Chaos / Recess Ranked-Mode Competitor
Hikari — Light / Reality Risk / Newly Self-Proclaimed Celebrity
Today's Activities:
Recovered Karin's missing sock
Completed first post-Convergence school drop-off
Survived schoolyard autograph requests
Attended parent-teacher meetings
Welcomed one of the school's first Velmoran students
New Developments:
Hikari has entered the autograph industry
Ria is completely natural in her role as Mama
Velmoran children are beginning ordinary school lives
Arclight household secrets are no longer safe around the daughters
Household Status:
Back To School
Publicly Famous
Domestically Embarrassing
Functionally Normal
Parents Stress Levels:
Ren
Amused
Paperwork Deficient
Reputation Destroyed By Children
Ria
Proud
Emotionally Fulfilled
Diamond Rank Publicly Exposed
Parenting Skill Growth:
Ren: 100% (School Dad Fully Operational)
Ria: 100% (Mama Requires No Further Tutorial)
Family Synergy: 100% (School Routine Successfully Restored)
Current Parents Status:
Ren
Papa
Normal-ish Parent
Apparently Famous
Ria
Mama
Former Queen
PTA Conquest Capable
Immediate Priorities:
Pick up the girls after class
Prevent Hikari from charging for autographs
Keep Karin from treating recess like ranked mode
Stop discussing Ria's Diamond rank in public
Operational Assessment:
Mission Type:
School Reopening + Parenting Operations
Difficulty:
Elementary-School Logistics
Emotional Status:
Ren
Content — Amused — Home
Ria
Proud — Fulfilled — Belonging
Future Outlook:
School Routine Restored
Velmoran Integration Progressing Naturally
Hikari Celebrity Ego Expected To Escalate
Karin's Competitive Instinct Requires Monitoring
Ria's Mama Status Completely Irreversible
Parents Personal Statement:
Ren:
"You're good at this."
Ria:
"I have had practice."
Reality's Response:
"The Demon Queen once worried whether she could ever belong in an ordinary family. Now she worried about missing homework, school forms, and whether her daughters would embarrass her in public. Somehow, that was exactly the life she wanted."