Chapter 161

Chapter 1 A Fierce Battle Cry of Cock-a-Doodle-Doo… Huh? Why a Rooster? Masato was surrounded by darkness. It felt like he’d woken up too early. “Mm? Uh…” He tried turning right, but bumped into a black wall. He tried turning left and bumped into another. “Kinda cramped… Oh, okay. I get it.” Masato lay on his back again and raised his hands upward. Pushing against the darkness above—against the lid. As it opened, light and the sound of birdsong poured in. It was morning. Masato sat up, and the coffin dissolved. “I’m amazed I can sleep that well in a coffin…but that’s not really something I should celebrate,” he grumbled, taking in his surroundings. This was a room at their inn in Catharn. The same type they always used, minimal furnishings, two beds. Someone had flung the windows wide open, and the light streaming in was blinding. He was forced to shield his eyes with the sleeve of his pajamas. He looked at the other bed and saw a girl lying there. Her pajama top had rolled up, leaving her belly button on display. “Mmm…sonny, let’s fight…mah…” It was Fratello. On the other bed was a woman in a skimpy negligee, sitting up with her chin on one hand, directing an alluring gaze his way. “Good moooorning, Masatooo. Did you sleep weeeell?” It was Sorella. Fratello rolled over in her sleep. Masato looked at her, then up at Sorella, who waved. He sighed. “Whaaaat? You feeling siiiick?” “No, nothing like that, just…” “Spells work differently, depending on the caaaaster. We do need you dyyyying for the safety of us giiiiirls, but…perhaps it would be best if Wiiiise cast the death spell? Would you sleep better that waaaay?” “I’ve long since accepted that death is what allows mixed-gender bedrooms, and frankly one coffin’s the same as any other. That’s not the problem…” “Then I need to wake Fratello uuuup and chaaaange, so could you leeeeave?” “You’re just gonna ignore me then.” “Masatoooo, you can change in Mamako’s rooooom. I’m sure it’s empty by noooow. Go ooooon! Get ouuuut! You peeeerv!” “I’m not a perv. But fine, fine, I’m going, geez.” Grumbling, he grabbed his gear and left the room. Masato is such a gentleman. “Look, I’ve got good manners. I’ll leave the room so they can change. That’s not the problem. That’s not what matters here.” Masato finished changing and tossed his pajamas in the laundry basket as if trying to discard his disgruntled feelings along with them. He headed for the dining room. From the hall he could hear the sounds of breakfast being prepared. Tap, tap, tap. Another tap, tap, tap. And one more tap, tap, tap. Three knives striking boards. “Mom’s a given, so then Wise? I don’t even want to consider Medhi as a possible cook, so…Porta? Or maybe Hahako? She’s staying here, too. Mm, probably her.” He poked his head in the door, scanning the room. He found Porta first. She was setting the table, making sure every seat had chopsticks and a soy sauce vessel, going back and forth between the table and the china cabinet. When Porta dashed around like this, the two mascots slung from her shoulder bag bounced around. Piita had been joined by another knit doll, twice the size—Piitamama. This one was a bit misshapen, but that was part of its charm. And a lovely sign of the restored bond between mother and daughter. “Porta’s setting the table, so the cooks are…” He glanced to the kitchen. “Oh, is that Ma-kun? I knew it! Good morning, Ma-kun!” Mamako looked up from the quick-pickled cucumbers she was slicing. Her son sensor had gone off, and she flashed her unchanging smile at him. As expected. Next to her… “You overslept yesterday, but you’re up early today. Good for you, Masato.” Hahako turned around, momentarily abandoning the quick-pickled eggplant she’d been slicing. She smiled, clearly enjoying herself more than necessary. Also expected. So. “Masato Oosuki! So good of you to join us. We need you to act as the judge and see which of us has sliced the most evenly!” The girl slicing the pickled daikon spun around with an aggressive grin—not Wise, or even Medhi. Instead of her black Rebellion cloak, she had an apron tied around her shoulders like a cape, completely missing the point of aprons. It was Amante. Masato had a headache already. “Come, Masato Oosuki! Judge this contest! This is no mere breakfast prep, but a duel! Make it snappy!” “Leave me out of your dumb duels. And…” “The apron? Heh-heh. You don’t get it, Masato Oosuki. This is all the rage among girls these days, the latest trend in apron fashion. Wise the Sage and Medhi the Cleric told me all about it. It is our little secret. My opinion of them both has improved greatly.” “They totally tricked you, so…I’ll just apologize on their behalf. And come on already, let me—gah!” Before he could get out what he’d been trying to say all morning, someone grabbed his collar, strangling him. “I overslept a bit, but we’re here in time! Come on, Amante! This is a women’s duel!” “You have no right to go up against Mamako and Hahako! Allow us to demonstrate.” Masato’s attempted killers were two other girls, both wearing aprons in the usual location. Wise and Medhi. They stormed into the kitchen, leaving Masato gasping in their wake. Facing Amante down with indomitable grins. “You’re both wearing your aprons wrong!” Amante chided the two of them. “Girls should be more sensitive to the latest trends. Did you forget what you said last night? How foolish can you be?” “Ohhh, sorry, we made that up. Never thought you’d actually believe it!” “You WHAT?! Th-that’s not fair!” “To fool your enemies, first fool your enemies. It’s fundamental. But we don’t have much time, so let’s get this cooking contest underway. I will do my best—” ““No, you won’t.”” Wise and Amante teamed up to gently push Medhi out of the kitchen. Mamako, Hahako, Wise, and Amante finished up breakfast. “Hahako, can you check on the flavor of the miso soup?” “Certainly. My, that’s good. Should be ready to add the tofu.” “Hey, Amante, could you not keep taking the lid off? You’ll let the steam out!” “I—I know that, obviously! I was just checking to see if the rice kernels were standing properly! Humph!”