“Okay, seriously, how far are you planning on taking thimphgh?!” She mercilessly shoved the pudding into my mouth mid-sentence. The plastic spoon was chilly, and the pudding itself was incredibly sweet. I suddenly realized that I hadn’t had a bite to eat since the day before.
“How is it? Tasty?”
“Y-Yeah, it is.”
“Hee hee! I’m glad to hear it.” She beamed with delight, which predictably only deepened Kiryu’s skeptical glare.
“So, how do you two know each other?” she repeated.
“Didn’t I already tell you? Through Ayase-kun.”
“And that’s all?” Her relentless questioning made it clear that she didn’t believe that was all in the least. In other circumstances, having a mutual friend might be a reasonable explanation, but again, this is a small pond of a high school we’re talking about. In a community of that size, it’s practically a given that you’d have friends-of-friends all over the place. If the student council president had truly made a habit of visiting students and force-feeding them pudding, that information would’ve entered the rumor mill ages ago.
“We’re family,” the president bluntly stated.
Kiryu paused, flabbergasted. “You’re what?”
“You might also say our relationship is especially intimate.”
“Excuse me?!”
“Okay, seriously, stop lying to her.” I had to cut in at that point—she was carrying her joke way too far. My entire body was already in pain, and her antics just made the sinking ache in the pit of my stomach all the worse.
“Oh, you could’ve let me have my fun for a little while longer,” she grumbled, then thrust her hand into one of my pockets. Before Kiryu or I could react she pulled it back out, now holding a ring.
“D-Did you slip that in there while you were feeding me the pudding?”
“That’s right! I thought it would be funny.” She pulled another ring of the same design out of her skirt’s pocket. “The same design” meaning that she’d been going for an engagement ring joke. It...was just a joke, right? “I was planning on following through with it if you let me play it out to the end, of course.”
“If you carry a joke like that all the way to the end, it’s not a joke!”
“Really, though—what’s going on between you two?” Kiryu mumbled. She definitely wasn’t keeping up with the conversation (though considering the nature of said conversation, I’d be sorta scared if she was).
“I was telling the truth when I said we’re family,” the president answered. “He’s my relative. My second cousin, specifically.”
“Your ‘second cousin’?”
“We’re as related as cod and salmon roe.”
Kiryu paused. “Salmon roe, as in, salmon eggs?” She was even more confused than ever. Don’t look at me—Renge tried to explain it to me way back whenever, and I didn’t get it either. If you wanna complain, go bother her.
“I think that’s enough discussion of our relation to one another, for the moment. Just keep in mind that our marriage is legitimate.”
“I thought you were finished with that joke.”
“‘Joke’?” Renge cocked her head and played dumb. Seriously, that’s not funny! Stop it! “We’re also family in the sense that my father is currently acting as his guardian.”
“His guardian...? But, what about his parents?”
“Kou hasn’t told you?”
That one sentence was enough for Kiryu to put the pieces together, or at least make an educated guess. She fell silent, and her gaze drifted to the floor. She’d known my parents. I could only imagine what emotions were going through her head at that moment, but I knew without a doubt that they were nothing pleasant. An incredibly awkward atmosphere dominated the room.
“In any case, as you can surmise, Kou and I are more or less husband and—”
“Renge.”
“More or less brother and sister!” she concluded proudly, head high and chest out. Ample chest out. Even more so than Kiryu’s. “I’m perfectly capable and willing to nurse Kou back to health, so you’re welcome to scurry home any time you wish, Kiryu-san.”
“Grr...” Kiryu gritted her teeth. Renge’s provocation was flagrant, not to mention perfectly engineered to provoke Kiryu, considering how stubborn she could be about this sort of thing. I wanted to ask why they couldn’t just talk this through peacefully, but considering I’d provoked Kiryu just as effectively mere moments before while discussing the exact same topic, I didn’t really have the right to judge.
“I was here first,” Kiryu countered, “and I have no intention of foisting the responsibility of taking care of him on someone else.”
“Perhaps, but that’s no reason for you to watch over him throughout the entirety of his illness. Don’t you think that would be too heavy of a burden to ask of one person? Why not let somebody else carry part of the load?”
Kiryu hesitated but didn’t give in. “That won’t be necessary.”
“What’s most important is giving him the opportunity to rest, isn’t it? Two caretakers would be excessive in a room this small.”
“Are you really that dead set on sending me home?”
“I suppose that asking a girl to walk home in the dark would be a touch dangerous. If necessary, I can call someone over to escort you on your way.”
Kiryu was at an obvious disadvantage. Her opponent was a very, very distant relative, but the surrogate sister factor made up for said distance. Kiryu, meanwhile, was a childhood friend and not much else. With that as her only weapon, she stood little chance of sticking it out until the sun set.
And I, for one, was perfectly fine with that! Not to say that I wanted to end up alone with Renge, but you have to set your goals realistically. If I tried to get rid of both of them at once, it could backfire spectacularly—gotta take what I can get! Once Kiryu was out of the picture, I could focus on Renge, and dealing with one person would be a whole lot easier. I felt a bit bad for Kiryu, but it had to be done.
“All right, I understand... In that case, I’ll be leaving now, Kunugi-kun.”
“Very good! Thank you for your understanding, Kiryu-san. Now then, Kou, I’ll be in the kitchen. I have the perfect medicinal recipe in mind to perk you right back up!”
“Huh?” Wait. A medicinal recipe? Like, as in, making one? “R-Renge-san? You don’t mean—you can’t mean you’re making it yourself, right?”
“Hee hee! Do you really even need to ask?”
“Phew! Yeah, stupid question. Can’t believe I thought a girl like you would even consider—”
“Of course I’ll be cooking it! I mean, really!”
“KIRYUUUUU! HEEELP! YOU’RE MY ONLY HOPE!” She’d just given in to Renge’s pressure and was on her way out the door, but I desperately called her back in. Thankfully she was literally on her way out the door at the time, meaning it was still open, and she could hear me just fine. She stopped and turned around.
“K-Kunugi-kun?”
“You’ve gotta stop Renge! She’s saying she’s gonna cook something medicinal!”
Kiryu frowned. “Well, good for you. Are you trying to brag?”
“Hell no! You don’t understand—she’s a cheftastrophe!”
Indeed, Myourenji Renge was a cheftastrophe: a particular sort of human who absolutely ruins the hard work of all the wonderful farmers and fishermen who supply us with our daily provisions. It was her most definite, inescapably terrible character flaw.
My mind immediately flashed back to the period just after I arrived in this world, when I was still living in the Myourenji household. Whoosh, screen fades to white, commence flashback!