Chapter 6

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Megumi gradually started to realize that maybe agreeing to this wasn't the best idea.

It had nothing to do with the usual frustration of a tutoring session. He had already resigned himself to the fact that today would be a waste the moment he agreed to practice hiragana, of all things. It's like breathing for them, given that they're Japanese.

The reason he agreed to practice writing was simple: he was tired, feeling a bit isolated, and wasn't in the mood for actual tutoring. So when they asked for a written task, he gave in, figuring it was an easy way to pass the time after a little persistence on their part.

But the real problem lay in what they were doing now.

He stared down at his blank sheet of paper, his expression blank as well, before looking up to observe the others in the room and gauge their reactions.

Ichika was... as usual. She seemed utterly relaxed, without a care in the world, wearing a casual smile as she tapped her pen against her chin, probably contemplating what to write next.

He shifted his gaze to Itsuki, seated next to Ichika.

Itsuki's face was neutral, her expression focused and thoughtful. Megumi couldn't tell what was running through her mind, but the youngest of the quintuplets appeared to be deep in concentration.

Then, there was Yotsuba. Sitting beside him, she caught his attention, and Megumi could instantly tell that she was taking this more seriously than anyone else.

Her expression was one of determination, her grip on the pen firm and unwavering. She moved her pen across the paper with careful strokes, writing deliberately and trying to keep her handwriting neat. After reading over what she had written, she nodded in approval before diving back into her internal debate over her next lines.

It wasn't about competition or a thirst for victory. Yotsuba simply wanted to give her best, no matter what she was doing.

Megumi's eyes drifted back to his own blank page, and he sighed inwardly. A poem about love... it had seemed so simple at first.

He wasn't a stranger to love. Even though romantic love had never been part of his experience, he had known and felt platonic love on many occasions.

But that was the issue—had. Past tense.

What initially felt like an easy task had quickly turned into a near-impossible challenge. The moment Megumi paused to consider the weight of writing about such a fragile subject, one he now lacked in every sense, it became clear that it wasn't going to be as simple as he had thought.

While it was true that he used to write poems, that was in the past as well. He hadn't written anything since Tsumiki fell into a coma—over two years ago now.

So how was he supposed to come up with one now? He hadn't really thought about it much, but then again, he hadn't given much thought to anything today.

He soon felt a strange sensation to his right, like someone was invading his space. And someone was. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Yotsuba leaning in exaggeratedly, trying to peek at his blank page.

"Have you written anything yet?" she whispered, pausing when she noticed his paper was completely empty. "Oh... no ideas?" Her dark blue eyes shifted to meet his as she asked.

Megumi subtly shifted away, creating a bit more distance between them, his expression remaining neutral. "You could say that." he replied.

Yotsuba brought a hand to her chin, pretending to think, before smiling brightly. She suddenly grabbed her sheet of paper. "Here, I'll help you!" she announced, scooting even closer and placing her sheet next to his.

Megumi frowned slightly at the renewed closeness but decided to let it go, choosing instead to ignore it. "You don't have to." he muttered in response.

"But I want to," Yotsuba said cheerfully, pointing to a section of her own poem. "Look, I've already started. You can follow my lead!"

Megumi didn't reply immediately, his frown deepening a bit before he sighed and glanced at her paper. "...It's a competition," he reminded her. Although he didn't see it that way, Yotsuba clearly did, so it made little sense for her to help the "opposition."

But since when did Yotsuba ever make sense?

She didn't seem to reconsider his words for even a second. "I want a fair game!" she declared, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "So I'll help you, even if we're competing."

It was almost admirable—if it wasn't so persistently annoying. Megumi gave her an unimpressed look in response.

"So, what kind of love are you going to write about?" Yotsuba asked, her eyes filled with curiosity. "I'm writing about sisterly love!"

If Megumi had to choose, he'd probably write about sisterly love too. It was the easiest option, given that he'd experienced firsthand the care and kindness of a considerate sister like Tsumiki.

But he wasn't sure if he could bring himself to actually write about it.

"I don't know," he replied, somewhat dismissively. "Any kind of love will do."

"No plan?" came a voice, completely unbothered by intruding on the conversation. Of course, it was Ichika.

Megumi turned to see her watching him with an amused smile, her cheek resting on her hand while her pen twirled between her fingers.

"You're practically begging to lose," Ichika teased with a light smirk. "The key to writing is knowing what you want to do from the start!"

He couldn't help but wonder where Ichika had picked up all these strangely wise phrases, especially considering her grades were ice-cold enough to freeze lava. Then again, maybe she just acted smart to make her provocations harder to refute.

"... I appreciate the concern, but I'll stick with improvisation." Megumi replied simply.

"Well, that's a poor choice," Ichika remarked, her grin widening before she turned her attention to Yotsuba. Her eyes narrowed slightly. "Speaking of choices... just what do you think you're doing?"

"Me?" Yotsuba blinked, clearly puzzled by the sudden shift. "I... I'm trying to help?"

"Yeah, help," Ichika echoed, her tone dripping with feigned indifference. "But need I remind you he's the opposition?"

"I-I know, but..." Yotsuba stammered, trying to defend herself. "Everyone deserves a chance, right? It wouldn't be fair otherwise."

"Then let him take his chance on his own," Ichika's voice grew more commanding. "This is a competition, Yotsuba."

Megumi quietly sank further into the sofa, his eyes fixed on the blank page before him. Ichika was clearly just playing with Yotsuba.

Yotsuba glanced nervously at her sister. "B-but everyone deserves a shot," she repeated, her voice wavering. "And—"

"No excuses," Ichika interrupted, raising a hand as if in mock authority. "Would you tie your opponent's shoe in a football game?"

Yotsuba's response was predictable from a mile away. "If they asked—"

"Of course not!" Ichika cut her off again, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. "In a competition, winning is all that matters. At any cost."

Megumi couldn't help but think of someone who would fully agree with Ichika's cutthroat philosophy.

Yotsuba swallowed hard, her resolve faltering. "But... but the most important thing is having fun!" she insisted.

"Sure, have fun... at your opponent's expense." Ichika added with a theatrically somber expression.

"That's not right!" Yotsuba protested.

Before Ichika could continue toying with Yotsuba's mind, Itsuki interjected. "Don't pay her any attention, Yotsuba," she said with a resigned tone, clearly used to these interactions. "The more you react, the more fuel you give her."

"Hey, no interrupting!" Ichika responded in mock outrage. "I'm just trying to teach her about the real world."

"And I'm just trying to write my poem," Itsuki replied with a sigh. "But your endless rambling isn't helping."

"Endless rambling?" Ichika placed a hand dramatically over her heart. "Is that what you call your big sister's wisdom?"

Itsuki didn't even bother responding, merely arching an eyebrow. She knew by now that engaging further would only lead to more nonsense from Ichika, so she had to stay composed.

As the youngest, Yotsuba and Itsuki often found themselves the primary targets of Ichika's teasing. While Itsuki had learned how to handle it, Yotsuba...

"Y-your advice isn't exactly nice." Yotsuba mumbled, her face a blend of worry and hesitation.

"Advice isn't supposed to be nice; it's supposed to toughen you up," Ichika replied, her eyes gleaming with playful intent. "If reality's too harsh for you, get better, kiddo."

"... This doesn't sound like poetry anymore." Megumi muttered under his breath, baffled by how the topic had shifted from love to a debate on competition and bullying Yotsuba in a matter of seconds.

"Speaking of poetry, how's yours coming along, Itsuki?" Ichika asked smoothly, shifting the conversation as she leaned over to sneak a peek at her sister's neatly written paper. "You're giving it your all, right? Trying your best?" she teased, fully aware of Itsuki's reluctance at the beginning.

Itsuki shot her a sidelong glance, her expression unreadable, before exhaling softly. "If you'd let me focus, maybe I could actually do my best." she replied with quiet frustration.

"Aww, you're breaking my heart..." Ichika pouted playfully. "Does interacting with your big sis really annoy you that much?"

"When I'm trying to write... yes." Itsuki muttered under her breath.

"Which is pretty impressive considering how you reacted when this was first suggested," Ichika remarked, tapping a finger thoughtfully against her chin. "Are you sure you're not just using this as an excuse to get me to shut up?"

"As nice as it would be if you did shut up, that's not the main reason," Itsuki admitted, setting her pen down for a moment. There was no way she could think up good lines while dealing with Ichika's existence as a whole. "Poetry takes full concentration."

"Ah, so much passion..." Ichika sighed dramatically, before breaking into a grin. "Speaking of passion, what kind of love are you writing about, huh?"

"Motherly love." Itsuki replied without hesitation, her gaze returning to the sheet in front of her.

Ichika hummed softly, her playful demeanor easing. She knew why Itsuki had chosen that. "Well, I'm writing about romantic love," she declared with a carefree smile. "After all, isn't that the kind of love everyone talks about the most?"

"Ooh... romantic love?" Yotsuba echoed, her eyes lighting up with interest. But then she hesitated, her brow furrowing in thought. "Wait... but how are you going to write about that, Ichika?"

Ichika raised an eyebrow, glancing over at her younger sister. "Hmm? What do you mean?" she asked, a bit puzzled.

"I mean... you don't really know much about romance, do you?" Yotsuba said with a shrug. "It's not like you've actually experienced it."

Ichika's smile faltered for just a moment, her expression falling flat as a slight frown formed. "Was that really necessary?" she muttered under her breath, her voice tinged with a bit of irritation. "Why rub it in my face?"

Realizing her words might have come off as hurtful, Yotsuba's eyes widened. She quickly waved her hands, trying to fix the situation. "No, no! I didn't mean it like that!" she said hurriedly. "I was just curious about why you chose it, that's all!"

"Well, for your information, I've seen a lot of movies," Ichika said, her tone somewhere between serious and playful. "So yes, I know plenty about romance."

I don't think that counts... Megumi thought, still staring at his blank sheet of paper. But maybe if they kept arguing, they wouldn't actually write any poems, and he could avoid dealing with the consequences of his impulsive decisions.

Yotsuba tilted her head, genuinely curious. "Movies? But isn't real romance different from what's in movies?"

Ichika shot her a smug look, crossing her arms. "Art imitates life, Yotsuba. So, technically, I know enough."

Yotsuba frowned, clearly unconvinced. "But Nino said that movies and reality are two totally different things," she countered, her voice firm as she quoted their sister's words. "And that mixing the two is a mistake."

"Yeah, but she only said that to comfort you when you started bawling because that Dan guy in Frozen broke both his legs in that fall." Ichika quipped, a sly smile creeping onto her face.

Yotsuba's face went pale with shock before quickly flushing with embarrassment. "Th-that was different!" she stammered, her voice rising in protest. "That scene was intense! It wasn't my fault!"

"Oh, sure, so emotional," Ichika teased, dramatically hugging herself and mimicking Yotsuba's panicked voice. "H-his legs! They're broken! Look at his bones! He's bleeding! Bwaaah!"

Yotsuba's cheeks burned even brighter as she sputtered, barely able to form a coherent response. "I-I was twelve, okay?! And that scene was brutal!"

Ichika laughed harder at Yotsuba's defense. "Wow, you all use the same excuse," she said with a triumphant grin, recalling Miku's similar reaction earlier. "I guess the genes run strong in this family, huh?"

Yotsuba had no clue what Ichika meant, but she knew she was being made fun of. "Can we change the subject, please?" she begged, her voice almost a whine. "Weren't we supposed to be writing poetry or something?"

"Yes, we were," Itsuki cut in, her voice sharp with frustration as she massaged her temples. "Can you two focus? Some of us are actually trying to get something done here."

Ichika chuckled for a moment before taking a deep breath and settling back on the couch. "Alright, alright," she said, much to Yotsuba's relief. "Back to business."

Megumi glanced at the clock, hoping that maybe enough time had passed to justify leaving. But no, he had only been there for 40 minutes.

Sighing internally, he resigned himself to the fact that there was probably no escape from the situation anytime soon.

As the room grew quieter, Megumi let his gaze drift to the paper in front of him, his expression void of interest. He could choose not to participate, of course; it wasn't like he hadn't ignored trivial tasks before. But he could already picture the aftermath—likely endless pestering from—and that was a hassle he wasn't willing to endure.

So, he might as well get this poem written. First, he needed to decide what kind of love to focus on. Though he had claimed it didn't matter, it made sense to write about just one.

Romantic love was immediately out of the question. Motherly love? He had no experience with that. Fatherly love? Not worth mentioning.

That left platonic love—the kind you feel for a friend—and fraternal love.

Usually, when someone talks about a feeling as profound as love, a specific person comes to mind. For Megumi, it was no different.

Two figures came to mind: Yuji and Tsumiki. His best friend, who was more than he could've asked for, and his older sister, the person he loved most in the world.

There were others who mattered too, like Gojo and, in a smaller way, Kugisaki. Even distant relatives like Maki. But at the core of it all, the people who meant the most were Yuji and Tsumiki.

And he'd managed to lose both of them in just 30 days.

His expression darkened at the thought. This poem was going to be difficult to write.

Megumi glanced up briefly to observe the others. They were already writing. Ichika seemed carefree, taking her time, while Itsuki was focused and diligent. And Yotsuba—well, she was being Yotsuba. The point was, they'd all started. Meanwhile, his page remained blank.

Though Megumi had written poems like this before—mostly birthday gifts for Tsumiki—he had never shown them to anyone else, apart from her and Gojo. For a long time, they were the only two people he had regular contact with and truly cared about.

Now, he not only had to write another poem but also share it with three girls he barely knew. The idea made him feel... uncomfortable. It felt oddly personal, almost indecent.

"Haven't you started yet?" A soft voice beside him pulled his attention. He didn't need to look—he already knew it was Yotsuba. "Having that much trouble?"

Her tone wasn't accusatory or teasing, just curious.

"I couldn't think of anything," he mumbled, still not looking at her.

"Hm..." Yotsuba hummed, glancing at her own sheet. She considered showing it to Megumi as an example, but that would probably catch Ichika's attention, and she wasn't in the mood for any more teasing. Still, she wasn't about to leave him hanging.

Turning to him again, she asked, "Have you decided what kind of love you're going to write about? I remember what you said earlier, but maybe choosing one would make it easier."

Megumi was silent for a moment before muttering, "I'm stuck between fraternal love and platonic love."

"Oh..." Yotsuba nodded, bringing a hand to her chin. "So, I take it you have siblings?"

Megumi froze, his eyes widening as his body stiffened.

But it seemed more like a rhetorical question. Yotsuba nodded to herself, as if confirming her own assumption. Or perhaps she already knew the answer.

"Well, I guess writing about sisterly love is always easier," she said with a small smile. "Maybe I'm just speaking from experience, but... you know." She shrugged lightly.

Megumi glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, feeling a twinge of discomfort at how easily Yotsuba had guessed—correctly—that he had experience with sisterly love.

But after a few seconds, it became clear she wasn't going to press further, so he let himself relax. At least she wasn't going to ask more about his sister.

His gaze returned to the paper, and he sighed. "It's still hard to write about."

Yotsuba fiddled with her pen before tapping it against her paper. "But love isn't complicated," she said, attempting to sound wise. Megumi raised an eyebrow at her.

She looked at him, her smile returning. "Love is pure! And purity is simple, don't you think?"

Megumi had no idea what she was trying to say.

Yotsuba just giggled to herself. But upon noticing his confusion, she decided to clarify. "You know, some things come naturally," she began. "And love is one of them!"

She traced circles on her sheet of paper as she continued. "It's like breathing... you just breathe! With love, you don't think about when or how you love, you just do. It doesn't need an explanation, it just happens!" She sighed dreamily.

Megumi's frown began to fade as he started to grasp Yotsuba's point.

"So, why should writing about love be complicated? You don't need to overthink it," Yotsuba said with a friendly smile. "Just focus on love itself. Think about it and let your feelings guide you. Write whatever comes to mind, regardless of the type of love you choose!"

That actually made sense.

"You've been getting better with words," Itsuki muttered suddenly, her eyes still fixed on her sheet before she looked up at Yotsuba and Megumi. "...Yotsuba."

Yotsuba merely smiled and waved her hand dismissively. "Ah, no, it's just because I like the topic," she explained, her smile widening. "I love love!"

Ichika chuckled softly, her eyes sparkling with a mix of amusement and warmth as she looked at her sister. "Of course you do," she whispered. "You're surrounded by lovely sisters, after all."

Yotsuba giggled. "Yeah, I am!" she agreed, unable to dispute Ichika's observation.

Megumi slowly shifted his gaze back to his sheet, deep in thought. Just do it. Let your feelings guide you...

It will probably turn out wrong, but what other plan does he have?

With a quiet sigh, Megumi resigned himself to follow Yotsuba's advice, carefully gripping his pen and placing it on the paper.

"And it looks like your efforts paid off," Ichika remarked, watching as Megumi began to write. A smile formed on her lips as she looked up at Yotsuba. "Wise, wise girl."

Yotsuba's smile broadened at this, her expression brightening as she saw Megumi start writing. But before she could say anything more, she realized it might be best to let him work through his thoughts on his own for now.

Yotsuba watched Megumi as he began to write, her smile lingering. She could see the concentration on his face and felt a sense of satisfaction, knowing her advice had made a difference.

She turned her attention back to her own paper, feeling content. Little by little, she hoped to make a difference herself.

Maybe even return the favor he had done for her.

Silence settled over the room as they each focused on their poems. Megumi paused his writing after completing just the title of the first paragraph.

The title was deliberately ambiguous, allowing him the freedom to explore either platonic or fraternal love without constraint.

He pondered for a moment. What would be ideal to write about? Both forms of love seemed equally delicate, but they were the only ones he had any real understanding of.

The poem would essentially revolve around his feelings for one of two people: Yuji or Tsumiki, the central figures in these types of love he experienced.

Both had many traits in common: positivity, a strong moral compass, a friendly personality, and a readiness to help others. Most importantly, they had given him strange yet encouraging words that persisted in his mind.

Yuji was what Megumi would call a hero. While he knew heroes didn't exist in the traditional sense and that calling a sorcerer a hero contradicted his beliefs, he couldn't help but view Yuji that way. If anyone resembled the heroes from comic books, it was Yuji.

He was foolish, goofy, and stubborn, but also selfless, self-sacrificing, and noble.

Yuji had been a beacon of light during a dark time for Megumi, meeting him while Tsumiki was in a year-long coma and Megumi felt aimless. Witnessing someone so determined and heroic (and stupid) as to leap into danger for someone he barely knew was a profound shift for Megumi.

Realizing that people like Yuji were not just a figment of his sister's overly idealistic imagination was... relieving. Over time, Yuji had proven himself again and again. His life was dedicated to helping others, and he was prepared to sacrifice himself if it meant making a difference.

Megumi knew he couldn't let that light go out.

But that light had gone out.

Then there was Tsumiki. His older sister was another epitome of self-sacrifice that Megumi would carry with him for the rest of his life.

Though she didn't literally sacrifice her life for others as Yuji did—her death being more tragic in its own right—Tsumiki gave up her childhood for Megumi.

With no parents and only each other to rely on, their situation was precarious. Satoru Gojo's arrival provided a semblance of responsibility, but he was more like an annoying older brother than a true guardian.

Gojo visited them twice a week, sometimes more, leaving behind exagerated sums of money—usually eating Tsumiki's cooking—and then leaving. He wasn't mature enough to fully care for two children, so his role was more supervisory than parental.

Thus, it fell to Tsumiki to take care of Megumi. A girl just a year older than him, she dedicated a significant portion of her life to caring for her little brother.

She was there for everything. Guiding, teaching, caring, and raising him, despite still being a child herself.

Megumi struggled to find the right words to express his gratitude for her sacrifices. Perhaps no words could truly capture his feelings, so he attempted to show his appreciation through his actions.

Yet, he felt it was never enough. And when she needed him the most, he could do nothing to help.

Expressing how much he loved Tsumiki in this poem felt inherently inadequate. Yet, Yotsuba's advice to let his feelings guide him pointed him towards writing about his sister.

Yuji was significant too, but Tsumiki was overwhelming. She embodied love and care in a way no one else could. So Megumi resolved to write a poem about fraternal love.

His fingers moved, and the pen began to write as his thoughts took shape. Letting his emotions guide him... he was doing just that.

Without overthinking, the rhymes and sentences flowed naturally. He didn't dwell on details—he just wrote.

As moments passed and Megumi continued writing, the first person finished their poem. Ichika casually set down her pen and leaned back on the couch, stretching her arms.

"Hmmm... finally," she murmured, closing her eyes lazily. When she opened them again, she glanced at the others with a small smile. "I think I was the first to finish, hmm?"

"Are you done already?" Yotsuba asked, surprised, looking at her older sister, who nodded nonchalantly. "Wow... that was quick!"

Ichika shrugged. "I guess it's because I have a natural talent, right?" she joked.

Yotsuba giggled and nodded. "It must be that!" she agreed.

While they chatted, Megumi remained focused on his writing. He was approaching the end of his poem, the words flowing more easily as he immersed himself in his memories.

Time seemed to stretch as he wrote, with the silence around him occasionally broken by the rustling of paper or soft murmurs.

Eventually, Yotsuba finished her poem. Instead of announcing it, she glanced over at Megumi. "How's it going over there?" she asked with curiosity.

Megumi looked up briefly. "Coming along," he replied, his voice steady but introspective. "Almost done."

A smile spread across Yotsuba's face as she held up her sheet. "I finished mine," she said proudly. "It's nothing fancy, but I gave it my best effort!"

"I'm sure you did," Ichika remarked with a small smile, her gaze shifting from Yotsuba to Itsuki.

Itsuki continued writing for a moment, deeply focused, before stopping and setting her pen aside. Ignoring her sister's curious look, she reviewed her poem, then cleared her throat.

"Done," she announced simply. When Ichika leaned in to see, Itsuki turned the page over, casting a glance at her sister.

"Oh, come on!" Ichika protested with an amused smile. "I'm going to read it anyway, why hide it?"

"Because it's not time yet," Itsuki replied calmly, adjusting her posture. "We need to wait for Fushiguro-san to finish."

Ichika huffed, crossing her arms and turning away, though her amused expression remained. "You're not funny..." she muttered.

Itsuki responded with silence, choosing to wait for Megumi to finish his poem.

Megumi continued writing, and with each passing second, a sense of calm began to wash over him. Now that he was actually working on the poem, memories started to surface—not just of Tsumiki, but of simpler times.

The friction of the pen against the paper, the subtle vibration against his fingers, the faint scratching sound as he scribbled, the white sheet slowly filling with black ink—it was oddly soothing.

He really liked poetry. It reminded him of those uncomplicated days when he could sit down, pencil in hand, and jot down whatever silly thoughts came to mind. Back then, he could pretend everything was normal, that he had nothing to fear.

Of course, it was all a lie. But it was a sweet one, a lie he wished he could've held onto.

"...Done." he announced quietly after a few more seconds, letting the pen slip from his fingers. He leaned back against the couch, eyes on the finished poem before him.

"Great," Yotsuba exclaimed, grabbing her poem and glancing at Megumi's before turning toward her sisters. "Then let's share our poems and decide the winner!"

Ichika nodded, sliding her paper, face down, to the center of the table with a smile. Itsuki followed suit, placing her poem gently next to Ichika's, and Yotsuba did the same soon after.

Megumi stared at his poem for a brief moment before slowly adding it to the pile.

With all four sheets in the middle, Yotsuba's excitement bubbled up again. "Can we turn the poems over now?" she asked eagerly.

"We still have to decide who the judge will be." Ichika reminded her, shifting in her seat.

"Oh!" Yotsuba gasped, nodding at Ichika's reminder. "You're right. Does anyone want to be the judge?" she asked, looking around the table.

"We need someone impartial and serious, right?" Ichika added with a playful smile, her gaze sliding over to Itsuki. "And someone with a deep appreciation for poetry."

Itsuki frowned slightly, glancing back at Ichika. "...Me?" she murmured.

"Of course," Ichika said casually. "You're the most professional person I know, Itsuki-chan."

"Exactly!" Yotsuba agreed, grinning at their younger sister. "Plus, you know the most about poetry!"

Itsuki hesitated, her eyes flickering toward Megumi. As usual, he appeared indifferent, not saying a word. With a sigh, she gave in. "Alright, I'll do it."

"Very well," Ichika said with a casual smile, patting Itsuki's back as if to spur her on. "Let's get this started, shall we?"

Itsuki paused, giving Ichika a confused look. "Aren't we going to go over the criteria first?" she asked.

Ichika shrugged indifferently. "Nah, I'll leave that part to you."

Itsuki scowled at her sister's laid-back attitude, but once again forced herself to let it go. She glanced at the pile of poems in the middle of the table before slowly reaching out to pick them up.

"Alright..." she murmured, bringing the four sheets closer. "Who wants to go first?" she asked, glancing up at the group.

"Me! I want to go first!" Yotsuba eagerly raised her hand, then quickly lowered it with an awkward glance around. "I mean... if no one minds?"

"Fine by me." Ichika replied casually, while Megumi merely rested his face on his hand, looking disinterested.

"Then I'll read Yotsuba's first," Itsuki said, sorting through the pages until she found Yotsuba's poem. She took it carefully, leaving the other poems on the table.

She placed Yotsuba's poem in front of her, frowning slightly in concentration as she began to read. The others turned their attention toward her, Yotsuba growing increasingly anxious as she awaited feedback.

Itsuki's expression gradually darkened as her eyes scanned the paper. She blinked a few times, then sighed in frustration. To say this worsened Yotsuba's anxiety would be an understatement.

After a tense silence, Itsuki finally spoke. "...Yotsuba," she said, glancing toward her sister, who swallowed nervously.

"Y-yes?" she replied, her voice barely more than a whisper.

"Can you grab my glasses from my backpack?" Itsuki asked. Yotsuba blinked, surprised. "I mean... I can't really read without them," she added sheepishly.

"Oh! Of course!" Yotsuba's anxiety dissolved into laughter as she quickly got up and rushed to fetch the glasses. "Just give me a second!" she giggled while rummaging through the bag.

Ichika chuckled quietly, watching the exchange. She leaned slightly toward Megumi, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Classic Itsuki, huh?" she remarked, her lips curving into a smile.

Megumi, however, didn't respond, his distant gaze still fixed on the table as he seemed lost in thought.

Moments later, Yotsuba returned, triumphantly holding out the glasses. "Here you go!"

"Thanks," Itsuki muttered, slipping the glasses on and adjusting them before turning her focus back to Yotsuba's poem. She cleared her throat, straightened the page, and began to read aloud.

Yotsuba sat back down, her previous nervousness replaced by eager anticipation. The room grew quiet as Itsuki's soft voice filled the space, reading the words of Yotsuba's poem.

The poem was about sisterly love, as Yotsuba had promised. It wasn't a masterpiece—Yotsuba wasn't a writer, after all—but it was heartfelt. Despite the occasional clumsy phrasing and minor spelling errors, it conveyed her feelings clearly.

When Itsuki finished, she looked at Yotsuba with a slight smile. "It's simple," she began, "but I really like the sincerity. Your feelings come through loud and clear."

"Sincerity and Yotsuba... why do those two words always seem to go hand in hand?" Ichika teased playfully, giving Yotsuba a warm smile. "Lovely poem by the way. You've definitely made it clear just how absurdly huge your love for us is."

Yotsuba let out a huge sigh of relief, her face lighting up with a grin. "Ha! Thanks, both of you!" she exclaimed excitedly. "It's not exactly poetic genius, but I meant every word!"

"That's the charm." Ichika added with a casual warmth in her tone.

Megumi, meanwhile, continued to sit quietly, his thoughts still distant as he stared at the pile of poems in front of him. Poetry, to him, wasn't about perfect execution. It was about the emotion behind it. And in that sense, Yotsuba had succeeded.

After a few moments of silence, he looked at Yotsuba and, in a quiet voice, said, "Well done."

Yotsuba froze for a second, surprised by the unexpected praise. A wide smile crept across her face, and she responded just as softly, though clearly excited. "Thank you, Fushiguro-san!"

Itsuki, now finished with Yotsuba's poem, moved on. "Alright, who's next?" she asked, glancing at the remaining poems.

"I'll go," Ichika volunteered, casually resting her chin on her hand. "No pressure, though. I didn't exactly pour my heart and soul into it."

"I wouldn't expect anything less," Itsuki replied, her tone dry as she pulled Ichika's poem from the pile. "I just hope there's nothing too ridiculous in here, but I'm not holding my breath."

"Oh, you know me so well," Ichika sighed dramatically, her voice dripping with mock sorrow as she closed her eyes in exaggerated melancholy. "Will I be disqualified for being myself?" she asked, cracking open one eye mischievously.

Itsuki gave her a flat look before sighing and turning her attention back to the poem. "I guess I can't really blame you for being yourself," she muttered. "Even if 'yourself' is often very blameworthy."

"Uff... So mean..." Ichika muttered under her breath, though her tone revealed it was more of a playful complaint.

Itsuki cleared her throat once more, carefully bringing Ichika's poem close as she prepared to read.

Given Ichika's earlier comment about writing a romantic poem, Itsuki had anticipated needing to pause to avoid reading any potentially inappropriate lines. With Ichika, such expectations were reasonable.

As Itsuki began reading, Yotsuba's gaze was fixed intently on her, trying to absorb every word of Ichika's poem, while Ichika herself watched Itsuki with an unbothered expression.

Itsuki's brow furrowed slightly as she read, not due to inappropriate content, but because...

"...This isn't exactly poetry," she remarked, looking up at Ichika. "It reads more like a prose text."

Ichika shrugged nonchalantly. "Isn't it essentially the same thing?"

"Of course not," Itsuki replied, her tone growing stern. "You didn't include stanzas." she added, matter-of-factly.

"I don't see a problem with that." Ichika countered, her smile morphing into a smirk.

"What do you mean you don't see a problem with lacking stanzas in poetry?" Itsuki asked, clearly bewildered. "It's like saying an ocean without water is normal!"

Ichika waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, come on... you're so old-fashioned. Stanzas are outdated, let poetry evolve!"

"What are you even talking about!?" Itsuki exclaimed. "This is... utter nonsense!"

Ichika chuckled, pleased to have provoked a reaction from Itsuki. "Not so composed now, are you?"

Itsuki huffed in frustration, letting Ichika's so-called poem fall onto the table. "You're the one who suggested writing poetry, and then you don't even write poetry!" she accused, clearly exasperated.

"Intentions matter." Ichika replied nonchalantly, her smirk still plastered on her face.

Itsuki's expression darkened even further before she sighed heavily. "You're disqualified." she announced flatly.

"Aw, you're being too hard on Ichika!" Yotsuba chimed in, casting a pleading look toward her sister. "Why can't you just accept it as it is?"

Itsuki opened her mouth to respond but paused briefly, collecting herself with another sigh. "I have to be professional, remember?" she said, explaining simply. "That's what professionalism is. In a real competition, something like that would absolutely be disqualified," she continued, then glanced at Ichika. "And I'm sure Ichika knows exactly how a poem is structured... she just chose not to follow it."

"But I tried so hard..." Ichika murmured, her tone dripping with mock sadness. "And what happened to not blaming me for being myself?"

"You're not being 'yourself' here. You just didn't follow the prompt," Itsuki retorted firmly. "It's like bringing a car to a horse race and then complaining they didn't let you participate."

"That... kind of makes sense..." Yotsuba whispered.

"But if you want, you could always rewrite the poem," Itsuki suggested after a moment, trying to offer Ichika a second chance. "We can wait."

Ichika raised a hand to her chin, gazing up at the ceiling as if in deep thought before shrugging with a casual smile. "Nah... it is what it is."

Itsuki narrowed her eyes, letting out a small huff. "You're such a lazy..." she muttered under her breath, trailing off as she turned her attention to the two remaining poems.

Her expression softened slightly as she looked at her own poem, then at Megumi's. Glancing up at him, she met his tired eyes.

"Do you want me to read yours first?" she asked politely.

Megumi gave a slight shake of his head. "You go first." he said simply.

Nodding slowly, Itsuki's gaze returned to her poem. She hesitated as she placed Megumi's poem back on the table, her focus now on the carefully written stanzas in front of her.

Suddenly, a wave of self-consciousness washed over her. This poem was deeply personal—about maternal love, something she cherished more than anything. The thought of sharing it out loud felt unnerving.

With a resigned sigh, she adjusted her posture, glancing up for a brief moment. Three pairs of eyes watched her intently, making her swallow hard. But it was too late to back out now.

"...I'll start." she announced softly, lowering her eyes back to her poem. Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, she began to read aloud.

She held me once,

before time swept her away,

her hands warm like summer rain,

soft as the breath of dawn.

Her voice is soft, almost low as she reads, as if she's trying to keep it a whisper but forces it to be more.

Yotsuba and Ichika listen intently, their eyes fixed on Itsuki, completely absorbed.

Now, her voice is just an echo,

filling the hollow spaces

where her laughter used to live.

I speak to the air,

hoping it still remembers.

Megumi, too, watches her, paying closer attention to this particular poem. He could tell from the words that it was emotional, more melancholic than anything else.

He knew about the Nakano family's situation, that Maruo's wife had passed. So it wasn't surprising that a poem about maternal love, written by one of the quintuplets, carried a deep, heartfelt weight.

In some ways, he could relate.

I carry her in the scent of old linens,

in the songs she hummed over chipped porcelain,

in the quiet of rooms that remember her steps.

A soft sniffle broke the silence, pulling Megumi's gaze to his side. His eyes almost widened when he saw Yotsuba tearing up, before resigning himself. Of course, that was to be expected, too.

Ichika's attention shifted to her sister as well, her expression softening. Though her eyes reflected a similar emotion, she remained composed, far too proud to let the tears fall.

I keep her alive in the smallest ways,

folding memories like I once folded her apron,

neat and worn at the edges,

but never the same as the warmth

that once surrounded me.

Yotsuba wiped away the small tears forming in her eyes, swallowing the lump in her throat, focusing solely on the poem. But memories hit her hard as Itsuki continued to read.

Megumi turned his attention back to Itsuki, taking in her words. He had to admit—the poem was well-written.

I wear her absence like a second skin,

missing the way she knew my name

before I even spoke it.

The poem ended, and Itsuki slowly set the paper down, taking a deep breath. She had managed to get through it without her voice cracking.

Hesitantly, she raised her eyes to gauge her sisters' reactions. Yotsuba, lip trembling, looked at her with emotional eyes, giving her a thumbs up, approval without words.

Ichika gently patted Itsuki's shoulder, drawing her attention. The eldest sister smiled, leaning in slightly. "See? You've got talent," she whispered. "No need to feel embarrassed about your passions when you're so good at them."

Itsuki's expression softened, a sigh slipping from her lips. "I guess..." she muttered. "It's just kind of awkward."

Ichika's smile grew, and she gave her sister's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Just focus on the good," she said softly. "Mama would be proud."

Itsuki swallowed, a lump forming in her throat, before nodding shakily. "I hope so..." she whispered back. Her eyes drifted to Megumi, the only one who hadn't offered an opinion on her poem yet. She didn't expect much, considering how he usually acted. Maybe just a nod.

For a moment, their eyes met in silence. To her surprise, Megumi... liked her poem.

Poetry had once been a part of his life, and after everything that had changed, reading it again through Itsuki's words brought a sense of familiarity. The longing in every line. He felt it.

Even though words weren't his strong suit, Megumi decided she deserved some praise for her effort and courage. "It was beautiful," he said, his tone neutral but softer. "You have a way with words."

Itsuki didn't respond immediately, her gaze fixed on him. He noticed that while she wasn't as openly emotional as Yotsuba, there was something there.

"It felt... real," Megumi added, his voice quieter now. "That's what poetry's about. Capturing something honest. It's not just about form or rhyme," he continued, "it's about emotion. How it makes you feel... how it makes others feel. And you really did a great job."

Itsuki's lips parted slightly, surprised. Of all people, she hadn't expected Megumi—the one who always seemed so reserved—to offer the most insight into her poem.

There was something in the way he spoke that made her feel he understood the subject deeply.

Noticing the look on her face, and the stares from the others, Megumi shifted awkwardly in his seat. "Just my opinion." he mumbled.

Itsuki stayed quiet for a moment, gathering herself, before murmuring, "Th-thanks, Fushiguro-kun..." Her voice was soft as she folded her hands in her lap. She wanted to say more but felt a sudden shyness creeping in.

"Well... who would've thought?" Ichika quipped, raising an amused eyebrow at Megumi. "You sounded like an expert back there. I barely understood half of what you said!" she added with a shrug. "Though, maybe I'm just clueless when it comes to poetry."

Megumi glanced at Ichika, mildly impressed. He couldn't help but think her lack of understanding extended beyond poetry.

Yotsuba, now wiping away the last of her tears, beamed through her lingering emotions. "Yeah! Fushiguro-san totally gets it!" she chimed in enthusiastically. "The poem was amazing, I was speechless!" she added, a little sheepish.

Ichika leaned forward, teasing him. "But now I'm curious about your poem," she said with a mischievous grin. "I wonder if all that wisdom applies to your own work too?"

Megumi frowned slightly, remembering the poem he had written. His gaze flicked toward the paper, and his frown deepened.

"Yes, I want to hear it too!" Yotsuba said eagerly.

Ichika nudged Itsuki gently with her elbow. "So, what are you waiting for?" she whispered. "Read Megumi-kun's poem."

Itsuki blinked, realizing it was up to her. "Okay..." she muttered, reaching for Megumi's sheet.

As she scanned the lines, she noticed his neat, almost artistic handwriting. Clearing her throat, she prepared to read aloud.

Meanwhile, Megumi looked away, feeling the weight of the situation settling over him. Bracing himself mentally, he listened as Itsuki began to read his words:

In the quiet spaces where shadows linger,

I remember how your hands

wove the threads of my childhood,

carefully crafting each day

with a patience I could never fully grasp.

Ichika tilted her head, her expression thoughtful. She narrowed her eyes for a moment, trying to recall what kind of love Megumi might be writing about.

But the memory escaped her. Deciding she'd figure it out as the poem continued, she let herself simply enjoy listening.

I remember how you shaped my world,

each lesson a thread in the tapestry of my days,

weaving strength and warmth

where uncertainty sought to unravel.

The more she listened, the clearer it became that he was speaking of a parental figure.

Yotsuba sat transfixed, lips slightly parted as she absorbed the words. If her intuition was right, she had a pretty good idea of whom the poem was dedicated to.

You taught me to see,

not with my eyes,

but with a heart

full of unsaid things,

the love you wrapped around my fears,

the wisdom you left in every corner

of our shared space.

As Itsuki read, she couldn't shake the feeling that Megumi was describing maternal love, the way a mother nurtures and protects her child. Every line resonated with that sentiment.

The poem was beautifully structured, and she couldn't help but feel pleased while reading his work.

Her voice softened as she continued, a warm sensation settling over her as she recited.

Your words, soft as dawn's first light,

still linger in the recesses of my mind,

in the dreams I whispered at night,

and in the endless hope

of a future you painted

with every sacrifice, every lesson.

Megumi's frown deepened as he listened, wishing he could sink into the floor. He could technically do that, but it would leave him with a lot of explaining to do.

I hold onto the weight of your embrace,

its echo a silent melody that plays

when I'm alone,

your love a steady pulse beneath my skin,

guiding me even when I reach

for the touch I cannot fully grasp.

Itsuki gently placed the sheet of paper on the table, marking the end of the reading. She smiled faintly, her eyes meeting Megumi's, though he kept his gaze turned away.

Ichika broke the silence first. "Heh... now I feel kind of embarrassed for not even trying," she admitted with a sheepish grin, scratching the back of her neck. "You both did really well."

"I agree!" Yotsuba added, her smile bright as she looked at Megumi. "You've got a knack for poetry, Fushiguro-san!"

Megumi stayed quiet, his lips pressed into a thin line. After a moment, he forced himself to glance at them. "...It's nothing," he muttered, brushing it off.

"Don't downplay it," Itsuki said, straightening up in her seat. "Your poem was beautifully written, Fushiguro-kun."

His neutral gaze shifted towards her, though a trace of discomfort lingered. At least he hadn't been specific about writing it for his sister, let alone mentioning that she was dead. It spared him from questions he wasn't ready to face.

He had been careful not to reveal that the poem was about something he lost, even if some lines might have been a little too telling.

Itsuki chewed the inside of her cheek for a moment, wishing she could find the right words. Maybe offer some insight, like Megumi had done for her. But nothing came to mind.

Still, she couldn't shake the feeling that Megumi had more experience with poetry than he let on. It wasn't something she had expected, but it was a shared connection between them now.

"Have... have you written poems before?" she asked, hoping to keep the conversation going. It felt like a silly question—obviously, he had—but it was the only way she could think to start.

Megumi stayed quiet for a few seconds before finally replying, "Yes. Sometimes."

Itsuki nodded, her eyes drifting back to his poem. "...Is it about motherly love?" she asked softly, just to clarify.

Megumi hesitated, his brow furrowing. Not exactly. Tsumiki had done for him what a mother might, but it wasn't the same thing... Still, it was easier for them to believe he was talking about his mother. He didn't want to dive into the painful truth about his sister.

"You could say that." he replied vaguely.

Yotsuba glanced at him, frowning in confusion, as if she hadn't expected that answer. But Megumi didn't acknowledge it.

"I see..." Itsuki murmured, a small smile tugging at her lips as she looked up at him. "I think your poem won." she admitted.

Megumi paused, frowning. "...No, I don't think so," he muttered. "Yours was better."

"You wrote more than I did," Itsuki said quietly, briefly glancing at her own poem before looking back at him. "And you kept the quality consistent. That gives you the advantage."

Megumi shook his head. "But your poem was more heartfelt," he countered. "Emotions matter more than the length of the stanzas."

Ichika watched them silently for a moment, a hint of amusement tugging at her lips before she decided to interject. "Now, let's not turn this into a debate, alright?" she suggested with a playful smile. "How about we just call it a draw?"

Itsuki and Megumi exchanged uncertain glances before Yotsuba chimed in as well. "I agree with Ichika," she said brightly. "It's too hard to pick a winner, so why don't you both win?"

Megumi stayed quiet for a few seconds, slowly realizing how pointless it was to push for a victory. This wasn't even a real competition—Ichika had been joking when she suggested it—so there was no reason to insist on giving the win to Itsuki.

He gave a casual nod. "Alright, it's a draw."

Itsuki hesitated but knew that with Megumi agreeing, the conversation was over. Her shoulders relaxed as she sighed. "Okay... a draw," she echoed. "Poetry's more about cooling down anyway... no need to make it competitive."

Megumi nodded in agreement, and the room fell into a brief, comfortable silence.

Yotsuba glanced around before catching Ichika's gaze. The older girl returned her look with a carefree expression, then stifled a quiet yawn.

"Ugh... so quiet..." Ichika mumbled, resting her head on Itsuki's shoulder with a contented smile. "I could fall asleep like this..."

"Please don't make us carry you to your room," Itsuki muttered, frowning. "Again."

"Hm..." Ichika chuckled softly, her eyes drifting closed. "No promises."

"I could carry you," Yotsuba volunteered. "It wouldn't be a problem for me!"

Ichika cracked open one eye upon hearing this, a mischievous smile spreading across her face. "Oh? Good to know." she whispered teasingly.

"Don't encourage her, Yotsuba." Itsuki muttered, casting a disapproving glance at her sister.

Yotsuba paused, then shrugged with a sheepish grin. "I mean, if it comes to that, I can totally carry her," she mumbled, patting her arm proudly. "I'm stronger than I look, you know!"

"If it comes to that, we'll just let her sleep on the couch," Itsuki said firmly. "The back pain she'll wake up with will be a good lesson."

"Aw, you all show such affection toward me." Ichika murmured sarcastically, closing her eyes again.

Itsuki huffed, glancing down at the table and fiddling with the edge of her poem sheet. The room fell into a brief silence as the conversation seemed to come to a halt.

Megumi, not paying much attention to their interactions, let his gaze wander. He glanced at the clock, noting he had been there for nearly an hour. It was probably time for him to leave, as there was really no reason for him to stay any longer.

He hadn't taught any classes today, given that hiragana didn't count and poetry felt more like a game than a productive activity. Nonetheless, he had followed protocol.

Just as he was about to get up and announce his departure, Itsuki spoke up.

"Fushiguro-kun?" she called quietly, her voice carrying a hint of hesitation.

Megumi looked up, slightly surprised by her sudden address, even though the discussion about him had ended. "Yes?" he responded.

Itsuki was silent for a moment, as if weighing her next words, before she said, "I... I didn't really expect you to be into poetry," she admitted. "You don't really seem like the type." She gave a small smile, trying to keep the conversation light without being too intrusive.

Megumi raised an eyebrow, surprised that Itsuki was bringing up poetry again.

But given that she seemed to enjoy it, maybe it made sense that she'd want to discuss it with someone who apparently had some understanding of the subject.

He shrugged. "It's just something I do sometimes. Nothing serious," he replied nonchalantly.

Itsuki tilted her head slightly, intrigued. "Sometimes..." she echoed thoughtfully. "May I ask how long you've been writing poetry?" she inquired.

Megumi took a moment to think, trying to recall. His first poem, if memory served, was written when he was ten, inspired by a book that Gojo had bought him.

Gojo had insisted that Megumi needed activities to engage in during his 'depressing days' instead of 'sitting his lazy ass on the couch all day,' so he had given him a book titled Twenty Hobbies to Brighten Your Shitty Life. A somewhat exaggerated title for a child.

Megumi had initially intended to give it to his Divine Dogs to shred, but Tsumiki had convinced him it would be rude to do so.

Most of the hobbies seemed pointless, but poetry intrigued him. The book described it as a way to express and release emotions, which caught Megumi's interest.

So, instead of focusing solely on jujutsu during his 'depressing days,' he decided to give poetry a try.

"I wrote my first poem when I was ten." he finally said.

"Oh... so young," Itsuki murmured. "I started when I was twelve." she added.

Megumi doesn't offer much of a response, just glancing at the clock again.

Noting his lack of engagement, Itsuki hesitated. She remembered how difficult it was to converse with Megumi and how his demeanor had made her feel uneasy on the first day of school. Even though they shared an interest, he still seemed somewhat distant.

Itsuki's gaze lingered on Megumi, a mix of curiosity and frustration evident as she tried to bridge the gap in their conversation. Determined to draw him out of his aloofness, she decided to press on.

"So, what inspired you to start writing poetry at such a young age?" she asked, hoping to provoke a more detailed response.

Megumi shifted uncomfortably, his eyes darting to the clock briefly before returning to Itsuki. He seemed reluctant to share personal details. "It was more about finding something to do," he admitted slowly. "Just a hobby or something."

Itsuki nodded, her expression softening. "I started for the same reason..." she murmured.

For Itsuki, poetry had been an escape during a difficult time, following their mother's death. While it didn't erase the pain, it provided enough comfort for her to continue with it. However, she chose to keep her explanation simple.

"Finding something to do, and all..." she said. Megumi didn't respond, so she tried a less personal question.

"And what about now? Do you still write often?"

Megumi looked thoughtful for a moment. "No," he admitted. "Today was the first time in a while."

Itsuki's eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Really?" she murmured. "And your writing is still at such a decent level, even without practice?" She shook her head, smiling slightly. "You really have a talent for it."

Megumi shrugged indifferently. "The structure isn't hard to remember..." he muttered. "And I just write whatever comes to mind anyway."

"Oh, you do that too?" Itsuki asked, intrigued by his revelation. "I sometimes write what comes into my head automatically, without much thought. It's kind of unsettling."

Megumi raised an eyebrow at Itsuki's admission. "Unsettling…" he repeated. While he didn't quite see it that way, he understood her perspective. "I find it freeing." he said.

Yotsuba observed them in silence, feeling a desire to join the conversation. However, since the topic was poetry—something she wasn't familiar with—she felt too uncomfortable to speak up.

"Do you?" Itsuki murmured. "In a way, I suppose. It's just amazing how sometimes we seem to lose control of our own bodies." she said, resting her chin on her hand with a thoughtful expression.

Megumi didn't respond, though he tensed slightly at her words. The idea of not being in control of his body...

"But they say that the most brilliant people act on impulse," Itsuki added suddenly, redirecting the conversation. "Not really, but it's as if they instinctively know how to act. Maybe that's what makes them great minds."

"...Maybe." Megumi muttered, not particularly engaged.

A low nasal laugh drew their attention. Ichika, still resting her head on Itsuki's shoulder, slowly opened her eyes. "You said I shouldn't sleep, right?" she murmured to her little sister. "How am I supposed to stay awake with you guys discussing something so boring?" she teased.

Itsuki's expression tightened, and she shook her shoulder to push Ichika away. "It's not boring," she protested. "It's an interesting topic."

"Oh, sure. Instinctive body movements, how fascinating," Ichika said sarcastically, letting her head fall back onto the couch, now unsupported by Itsuki's shoulder. "So nerdy…"

Itsuki's cheeks reddened, and she shot a sharp look at her older sister. "Hey!"

Ichika chuckled, clearly enjoying the reaction she provoked. "Just kidding."

Itsuki huffed, still annoyed. "Well, you don't have to be so dismissive."

With the topic finally shifting, Yotsuba felt more at ease and chimed in with a smile. "Don't worry, Itsuki! I didn't think your conversation was nerdy!" she reassured.

"But did you understand anything she was saying?" Ichika asked, turning to Yotsuba.

Yotsuba hesitated, her shoulders slumping slightly. "Uh... No?" she admitted, her voice trailing off.

Ichika smirked. "So you agree with me, even if indirectly." she said.

Yotsuba pouted, but she didn't back down. "Well, even if I didn't quite get it, I was still interested!" she insisted, her voice firm despite her embarrassment.

"You were so interested that you didn't say a word," Ichika teased, her expression amused. "Really, Yotsuba?"

Yotsuba's cheeks reddened with embarrassment as she struggled to find a suitable defense. "I-I guess I'm just not smart enough?" she stammered, her voice small. "Itsuki is on another level."

"That's another way of saying 'nerdy,'" Ichika pointed out. "You're basically calling her a nerd."

"Huh!?" Yotsuba exclaimed, her eyes widening. "No! I didn't mean it like that!" She turned to Itsuki, her face filled with concern.

Itsuki sighed deeply, her expression weary. "I know," she said, rubbing her forehead with a tired gesture. "Thank you for your support, Yotsuba. You can stop now…"

Megumi's expression grew darker with every word exchanged, the weariness on his face overshadowing Itsuki's. He couldn't help but question what exactly he was still doing there.

————————————————————————————————————————

Miku settled into her chair in front of the computer, her expression easing as she reached for her Nintendo controller.

Her hands were slightly sore from washing dishes, but that was beside the point. She finally had some time to herself in her room, and she was determined to spend it gaming.

The day had been both dull and tiring. Nino had essentially transferred all the kitchen duties to her, saying, 'I already make breakfast, lunch, and dinner every day; it's not fair to have to wash the dishes too.' While her sister had a valid point, it didn't make the work any less frustrating.

Miku shook her head, trying to let go of the lingering frustration. Although she wasn't thrilled about the extra chores, she was determined to enjoy some downtime now. She turned on the console and listened to the familiar chime of the startup screen, which helped calm her tired mind.

Without much thought, she reached for the drawer and grabbed the Mario Bros game. It was a recent addition to her collection, and she was eager to finish it as soon as possible.

She inserted the game into the console, adjusted her position in the chair, and settled in comfortably. After adjusting her headphones and letting her shoulders relax, the screen brightened, and the cheerful, familiar Mario Bros music filled her ears. She almost smiled, but a knock at the door interrupted her.

Miku frowned and turned her gaze toward the door without saying a word. After a second, another knock sounded, followed by another, and then more impatient and persistent knocks.

She already knew who was at the door without even seeing them.

With a frustrated sigh, Miku removed her headphones, placed them on the table, and stood up to answer the door. The knocking only stopped when she opened it.

As expected, Nino stood there with an impatient expression.

"What took you so long?" Nino demanded, glaring at Miku, who stared back emotionlessly before shrugging. "Whatever," Nino muttered, reaching out to grab Miku's wrist. "Let's go."

Miku remained rooted to the spot, her eyes fixed on her sister with a blank stare. Nino's grip tightened slightly as she gently tugged on Miku's arm, but Miku did not budge.

Nino's frustration was palpable as her expression darkened. "Didn't you hear me? Let's go." she repeated.

"Where?" Miku asked for the first time, her voice low.

Nino looked at her, clearly confused. "Where?" she echoed. "To the living room, duh." she said simply.

Miku remained emotionless. "You go," she said dryly. "I'll stay here."

Nino stared at her, her expression tightening slightly before she took a deep breath and tried a gentler approach. "You should come too," she suggested, her voice carrying a hint of persuasion. "It'll be fun."

Despite Nino's attempt to coax her, Miku remained unmoved. "Fun?" she echoed. "I'd rather stay in my room."

Nino's patience began to fray as she let out an exasperated sigh. "You stay in your room all day, every day," she said, her annoyance evident. "It's time you got out for a change."

"I didn't spend a single minute in my room today," Miku retorted, her expression darkening. "You made sure of that."

Nino huffed and put her hands on her hips. "You should thank me for not letting you rot in there," she said, before gesturing for Miku to follow. "Now come on."

"Why?" Miku asked, growing frustrated. "You still haven't told me why I should come."

"Why? Because I want to spend time with you, maybe?" she said matter-of-factly, as though the reason was self-evident. "But it's hard when you're always holed up in that room." she added dismissively.

Miku's expression softened slightly, and she sighed. "Is it really that hard to say that outright?" she murmured. "It would prevent arguments."

Nino scoffed. "Oh, come on. I thought it was already obvious," she said dryly, then pressed, "But are you coming or not?"

Miku shrugged, her defensiveness fading. "I could," she said, then added, "But isn't the tutor still in the living room?"

Nino paused for a moment, her eyebrows rising as she considered that. Then she shook her head. "Of course not. It's been an hour; he must have left by now," she said, turning to leave. "Now let's go. We've wasted enough time."

Miku cast one last disinterested glance at her sister before she reluctantly relented, closing the door to her room.

As Miku trailed behind Nino down the hallway toward the stairs, she shot a sidelong glance at her older sister. "What's the plan?"

Nino shrugged nonchalantly. "Gather the five of us," she said with a casual tone. "Maybe we can watch a movie. It's been a while since we last did that."

Miku nodded slowly, her gaze shifting to the railing that overlooked the downstairs area. From her vantage point, she could see the living room, and the sight that greeted her made her frown. Before she could voice her concerns, Nino continued speaking.

"We really should spend more time together, the five of us," Nino said, her eyes still fixed ahead as she began descending the stairs. "We don't do that as much as we used to."

Miku's eyes were fixed on her sister's back, her expression growing more guarded. "Uh... Nino..." she began hesitantly, her voice barely above a whisper. But Nino, seemingly lost in her own thoughts, didn't hear her and continued speaking.

"Asahi isn't a full-time high school like Black Rose," Nino commented casually, her tone dismissive. "In my opinion, it's the only thing that place does better than Black Rose. But at least it gives us more free time in the afternoons."

Miku's frown deepened as she tried to speak again as they continued down the stairs, but Nino went on, "I mean, we would have had the whole afternoon free if Papa hadn't hired that Fushiguro guy..." Her expression darkened slightly as she reached the bottom of the stairs. "Like, come on, we don't—" Her voice abruptly cut off as she stopped walking.

Miku caught up to Nino, stopping just behind her. She bit her bottom lip as she saw her sister's gaze locked on something ahead, already knowing what Nino had seen.

Nino's face twisted in frustration. "Oh, come on..." she muttered under her breath, her voice laced with irritation. "He's still here!?"

Further ahead, gathered around the table in the living room, were four people. Nino's other three sisters were interacting as usual, but it wasn't them that frustrated Nino. It was the fourth person present.

With his spiky hair and detached expression, Megumi Fushiguro stood next to Itsuki. He wasn't engaged in the conversation and looked entirely uninterested, but his presence alone was enough to make Nino livid.

"It has to be a joke..." she muttered through clenched teeth. "Isn't it past his time yet?" Nino said, starting to move toward them.

"Nino..." Miku began, but her sister ignored her. Miku sighed deeply, already regretting not bringing her headphones. She would definitely need them for some ear protection.

The conversation among the three sisters seemed light-hearted. Ichika casually shook her hand. "Yeah, that girl was the total opposite of you!" she said with a smile at Yotsuba. "I can't believe she put up with you for so long."

Yotsuba giggled, grinning. "We were good friends, okay?" she replied, amused. "And she wasn't even that introverted!"

"I swear I've never heard her voice..." Itsuki said under her breath, with a small smile. "If that's not introverted..."

"You're exaggerating!" Yotsuba protested playfully.

Megumi wanted nothing more than to be anywhere but here. Unfortunately for him, when he tried to get up and leave, Yotsuba and Ichika stopped him and asked him to stay longer. Even Itsuki joined in.

Of course, he could have easily refused, but he knew that a refusal wouldn't be accepted by those three. So, he had to resign himself to waiting for the right moment to leave without complaints.

But not everyone was pleased with his presence, and Megumi would soon find this out firsthand when a voice cut through the sisters' conversation:

"Do you plan on living here or what?"

Megumi flinched slightly at the sharpness of the tone, a stark contrast to the more relaxed voices of the others. He turned to face Nino, who stood in front of the table with her arms crossed and an annoyed expression.

Ichika and Itsuki stopped talking immediately, sensing from Nino's tone that she was displeased. They exchanged silent glances.

Yotsuba, however, seemed oblivious to the tension. She smiled and turned to Nino. "Hey, Nino! We were talking about Shiora-chan!" she said cheerfully. "Do you remember her?"

"Not now, Yotsuba," Nino muttered, raising her hand to silence her sister while keeping her sharp gaze fixed on Megumi. "I want to know why he's still here."

Yotsuba paused, looking at Nino in confusion before glancing at Megumi. "...We're talking," she replied simply. "All four of us."

I'm not exactly participating, Megumi thought, maintaining his gaze on Nino as he observed her frustration.

Nino scoffed, narrowing her eyes. "I thought he was here to teach," she said dryly. "Not to... talk."

Ichika bit the inside of her cheek, sensing where this was going. It was her responsibility to defuse the situation, so she spoke up, "Megumi-kun has already finished his lesson."

This did little to alleviate the tension. "Then why is he still here?" Nino asked.

"Because we asked him to stay a little longer!" Yotsuba said, nodding emphatically.

Nino clicked her tongue in frustration and shot an exasperated look at Yotsuba. "That's not part of his job, as far as I know," she said. "And he's been here too long, don't you think?"

Megumi couldn't understand the source of Nino's antipathy toward him. After all, he didn't even know her.

"Can we not start this, Nino?" Itsuki muttered, looking up at her older sister tiredly. "It's only three o'clock in the afternoon. There's no point making a fuss over his presence."

Nino's frustration only deepened with each passing moment Megumi stayed in the room. Every second he spent there made her more irritable. How was she supposed to spend time with her sisters when this outsider was disrupting everything?

Miku quietly approached from behind, observing her sister's tense profile before shifting her gaze to the others in the room, finally resting on Megumi. She could see his discomfort—it wasn't surprising, given how coldly he was being treated.

Before Nino could voice more complaints, Megumi stood up. "She's right," he said, his tone calm. "I should go."

Yotsuba's face immediately fell. "No!" she protested. "Don't take Nino seriously—she doesn't really mean it!"

"I do," Nino replied icily, her eyes locked on Megumi as he began to gather his things. "Every word."

As Megumi packed his belongings, Itsuki watched him with sympathy. Despite his outward indifference, she knew he must find situations like this frustrating.

"Are you sure you don't want to stay a bit longer?" Ichika asked, ignoring Nino's glare. "Like Itsuki said, it's still early."

Megumi shook his head, shouldering his bag.

Nino's eyes flicked to him as he made his way toward the door, a smug smile forming on her lips. "Perfect," she whispered. "You know the way out."

Yotsuba pouted, clearly unwilling to give up. "Come on, Fushiguro-san! Just a few more minutes!" she pleaded.

Megumi sighed inwardly. As uncomfortable as the situation was, it presented the perfect opportunity to leave. He should take it.

But before he could respond, Miku spoke quietly. "Just let him go," she suggested, glancing at Yotsuba. "He looks tired anyway."

Yotsuba opened her mouth to protest but eventually sighed, her shoulders slumping in defeat.

Nino seemed genuinely pleased as Megumi moved toward the exit, but Miku wasn't done.

"And I think you should walk him out, Nino," Miku added matter-of-factly, causing Nino to pause.

"...Excuse me?" Nino asked, bewildered. Megumi shared her confusion, glancing back. "Why should I?" she demanded.

Miku met her gaze with a neutral expression. "Because it would be rude not to."

Nino scowled, clearly more confused. "Do I look like I care?"

"You should," Itsuki chimed in, siding with Miku. "If you want Fushiguro-kun to leave so badly, the least you can do is walk him out."

Nino grimaced, her eyes darting to the youngest sister. "Are you two ganging up on me?"

Ichika, sensing the tension, decided to intervene. "It's not about ganging up," she said thoughtfully. "It's about... eti... eti...q... et—" She stumbled over the word.

Itsuki sighed, her expression tightening. "...Etiquette." she corrected.

"Yeah, that." Ichika agreed with a nod.

Nino shot a sharp glare at Ichika, her frustration mounting. "Since when do you care about etiquette?" she snapped.

Ichika shrugged nonchalantly. "I don't, really. Just trying to sound mature. Did I pull it off?"

"You did!" Yotsuba gave her a thumbs up, beaming.

Itsuki, however, was not amused. She straightened, her expression darkening briefly before focusing back on Nino. "It's about respect," she said firmly. "We're his hosts, after all."

Megumi remained silent, his hand hovering over the door handle, waiting for this to end. He was no stranger to awkward situations, but this was becoming needlessly dragged out. The last thing he wanted was for them to argue over something as trivial as whether Nino should walk him out.

"I don't need a lecture," Nino muttered, her arms still tightly crossed. "I just want my home free of outsiders like him."

But Itsuki wasn't ready to drop it. "Nino," she said softly, "you can't keep acting like this. It's not right." Their mother had instilled the values of respect and decency in them from a young age, and Itsuki couldn't let Nino's behavior slide.

Nino stiffened, glaring back at her sister. "Not right?" she scoffed. "He's already leaving. You're the ones making a big deal out of this."

"But you're being kinda harsh," Yotsuba chimed in again. "Fushiguro-san's only here because he's trying to help us."

Nino stood her ground. "I didn't ask for his help. And none of you did either, for that matter."

"But he's still here," Miku pointed out slowly. "Whether he's a decent tutor or not."

Megumi's brow furrowed slightly. He wasn't sure whether to be offended or not.

Nino shot Miku a sharp look but fell silent, her frustration simmering beneath the surface. She wasn't used to being called out by her sisters like this, especially over something she considered trivial.

Sensing it was finally a good moment to leave, Megumi spoke up. "It's fine," he said, his voice neutral. "I'll head out now. No need to drag this on."

Before he could turn the handle, Ichika stepped forward. "No, wait a second," she said, stopping him. Her gaze shifted to Nino. "Nino, my dear sister, can't you see we all think it would be nice if you walked him out? Just once. Humor us." she added with a friendly but pointed smile.

Nino blinked, her scowl deepening. "Humor you?" she repeated, glancing around at her sisters, all waiting for her response.

Humor them, really? How ridiculous. She frowned, but slowly uncrossed her arms, clearly irritated by the entire situation.

She would've preferred humoring her sisters by watching those silly movies Yotsuba loved, but no—she had to walk someone out. Still, this had gone on too long, and every second wasted arguing was less time she could spend with her stupid sisters.

"Fine," she muttered, stepping toward the door reluctantly. "Just this once."

Megumi, standing still, didn't protest as Nino brushed past him and opened the door. Without a word, she stepped outside, waiting for him to follow. He glanced back at the other sisters.

Yotsuba waved cheerfully. "See you later, Fushiguro-san!" she called with a smile.

Ichika gave a lazy wave, sinking further into the couch. "See you around." she said.

Itsuki nodded slightly in acknowledgment, while Miku avoided eye contact, moving to sit on the sofa next to where Megumi had been.

Megumi nodded back in response to their farewells before stepping outside and turning his gaze forward, following Nino.

When the door closed behind Megumi, leaving the four sisters alone, Yotsuba was the first to break the silence. "Phew..." she sighed. "It's been a while since Nino was like that."

"Not really," Ichika replied casually, resting her chin on her hand. "She's always been like this... at least since Mama passed," she added thoughtfully.

At the mention of their mother, Itsuki's expression softened, and her gaze shifted toward the ceiling. "I understand why she feels that way," she said quietly. "But we can't let what happened control how we treat others."

"Someday she'll get over it," Ichika said indifferently. "I mean, we all did."

Miku remained silent, her eyes lingering on the door. Ichika, noticing, turned to her.

"By the way, Miku, why did you suggest Nino walk Megumi-kun out?" Ichika asked, a hint of curiosity creeping into her tone before she teased, "Aren't you worried she might strangle him on the way?"

Miku hesitated for a moment before answering, "She has to learn to deal with people she doesn't like," she explained. "Especially since she dislikes so many people for no real reason."

Ichika nodded, her expression thoughtful. "Good point..."

"Let's just hope she figures it out sooner rather than later..." Itsuki murmured, her voice carrying a note of concern.

...

As Megumi stepped outside, the door clicked shut behind him. Nino walked a few paces ahead, arms crossed tightly, her expression still hard to read. The tension between them was thick, but Megumi had no intention of breaking the silence. They continued down the corridor toward the elevator, neither one looking at the other.

When they reached the elevator, Nino stopped and glanced back at him, her expression less hostile but still irritated. "Well, you got what you wanted," she muttered. "You're leaving."

Megumi watched her for a moment, weighing his response. He could tell she was still upset, but he didn't want to escalate things. "I didn't want anything," he replied, his voice calm as he pressed the button for the elevator. "I'm just doing what I was asked to do."

Nino frowned, narrowing her eyes. "Yeah, well, you're not doing it very well," she shot back, her tone sharp. "None of us even want you here."

Unfazed, Megumi met her gaze. "I'm not here to be wanted," he said evenly. "I'm here to help however I can."

Nino's frustration flared again. "Help? You think tutoring us for a couple of days counts as help? You think you're doing us some huge favor? You're just an outsider, Fushiguro. You don't belong here."

Her words hung in the air, but Megumi didn't react. He simply held her gaze, letting the silence stretch before he finally spoke. "Maybe you're right," he said quietly. "But that doesn't change the fact that I'm here. And until I'm told otherwise, I'll keep showing up."

Nino scoffed, rolling her eyes. "You just don't get it, do you?" she muttered, turning away. "You're not part of this family. There's no room in this house for one more person."

Megumi didn't reply right away. He kept his eyes on Nino's back, absorbing her words.

"...Can I ask what I did to you?" he asked suddenly, making Nino pause.

She slowly turned back to face him, raising an eyebrow. Megumi clarified. "You don't seem to like me. Why?"

Nino huffed, turning away again. "How would you feel if some random person showed up in your house?"

Megumi stood in silence for a moment, considering her words. "You think I'm... an intruder?" he asked, his tone calm but curious. He was beginning to understand her attitude but wanted to be sure.

"Isn't that what you are?" she said dismissively. "An intruder."

"Your view of me is stupid," he said calmly. His tone held no hostility, though Nino's frustration was evident as she gritted her teeth. "I didn't come here without permission. I'm required to be here."

"Yeah, sure... Papa put you here," she scoffed, her voice low. "It's easy for him to do that, right? He hasn't been around for a while."

Megumi raised an eyebrow at her choice of words. Nino continued, "How can he know if we need a tutor? How can he know what problems need fixing? He hasn't seen us in months!"

Megumi flinched slightly, not from her tone but from the raw emotion behind her words. He remained composed. "You failed the year," he pointed out. "That's reason enough for him to bring in a tutor."

Nino laughed dryly, shaking her head as she faced Megumi. "We don't need a tutor!" she insisted.

"Well, you might not think so," Megumi replied, "but clearly, something went wrong if you failed."

That wasn't the best choice of words, as Nino's face flushed with anger. She clenched her fists and shot him a dirty look before suddenly stopping, taking a deep breath, and turning away.

"Think what you want," she muttered dismissively. "But you'll see it would have been better if you hadn't taken that damn job."

Megumi almost scoffed. He didn't see it as a threat but rather something she blurted out in frustration.

"Do you think another tutor would do a better job?" he asked as the elevator doors behind him opened. "Maybe my age bothers you?"

"Another tutor? Pff... didn't you hear anything I said?" Nino murmured, her voice now lower. "We don't need a tutor at all. We can manage just fine on our own."

"But that would be extremely harder," he pointed out matter-of-factly. "Outside help can be very beneficial."

"...Outside help?" she repeated, her voice dripping with disdain. "Don't be stupid. We don't need outside help. We never did."

Megumi narrowed his eyes at her. He couldn't understand where Nino's perspective was coming from, but it was clearly a hindrance to her.

After all, Megumi himself had learned the hard way the consequences of refusing outside help.

He sighed, slipping his hands into his pockets and looking at her with an unimpressed expression. "This way of thinking will only hurt you." he commented.

"I'll take my chances," Nino snapped, clearly frustrated. "And you should mind your own business."

Megumi watched her for a moment, considering whether to say anything more. Dealing with this girl was proving to be quite challenging.

"Whether you accept me as your tutor or not doesn't matter," he said simply, stepping into the elevator to keep the doors from closing. "Your father trusted me, and I have to fulfill my promise."

Nino scoffed, shooting him a glance over her shoulder. "Sure... my father trusted you," she murmured, scrutinizing his face. "That's just more proof that he doesn't know what he's doing."

Megumi frowned in confusion. "And what do you mean by that?" he asked.

"Just look at you..." Nino replied dryly. "You can't even manage your own sleep, let alone teach us anything useful."

His frown deepened. This was becoming tiresome. "Maybe you could lend me your sleeping pills then?" he retorted with a dry tone.

Nino paused, processing his words, and her eyes widened in realization. Her posture stiffened, and she held her breath.

Could it be that...?

Noticing her reaction, Megumi raised an eyebrow casually. "So they really were sleeping pills?" he murmured. "That's less concerning, then. I guess sleeping pills aren't illegal."

Nino remained frozen for a few seconds, almost comically so, though Megumi couldn't see her expression. Slowly, she turned to face him.

"How... how did you know?" she whispered, taking a step back. Then, her face flushed with anger as she remembered something. "It was Miku, wasn't it? She told you!" she accused.

Megumi frowned. "So... Miku knows too?" he said, his tone indicating mild surprise. "You're really bad at hiding evidence."

Nino's eyes widened further at the implication, her face a mix of confusion and frustration. "It wasn't her? So how did you know!?"

"Like I said, you're terrible at hiding evidence," he replied casually, before adding, "The water glistened and seemed too heavy."

This only deepened Nino's frustration and confusion. "And you drank it even though you knew it was drugged!? Are you crazy?" she blurted.

"You're not one to judge my sanity." Megumi muttered, his eyebrows furrowing.

Nino gulped at his words. The indifferent way Megumi looked at her did little to ease the tension in her body.

Her mind flashed back to the conversation she'd had with Miku about what she'd tried and the possible consequences if she'd succeeded. At the time, she'd shrugged it off, but now...

"Why… why are you bringing this up now?" she asked, her skepticism evident.

"What do you mean?"

"Why did you wait a whole day to talk about this!?" Nino exclaimed, her frustration escalating. "Why only now?"

"Did you want me to embarrass you in front of your sisters?" Megumi asked, puzzled.

Nino paused, grinding her teeth before responding, "Well, that's what a normal person would have done!"

"I didn't want to make a scene," Megumi said dryly, his expression hardening. "Besides, it didn't work out anyway."

This only deepened Nino's confusion. He didn't want to make a scene? Really? This guy was drugged and he just let it go because he didn't want to make a fuss? And the drug didn't even affect him—how was that possible?

Nino clenched her fists, her expression growing wary as she looked at Megumi. "…Will you tell my sisters now?" she murmured hesitantly.

Megumi shook his head. "I don't plan to. I didn't even want to bring it up in the first place," he said, adding, "But you really pushed me to the limit..."

Nino swallowed, still unconvinced. "What about my dad?" she asked.

Nakano-san is already dealing with enough problems, Megumi thought, but he shook his head again. "I don't need to."

Nino was baffled. Even though she was barely thinking straight at the time, she knew how serious her actions were. So why was he acting so indifferent, as if it were nothing?

Unless... Nino assumed the worst.

"And what do you expect me to do now?" she inquired defensively, crossing her arms and giving him a dirty look.

Megumi paused, looking puzzled. "Expect? Why would I expect something from you?"

Nino's eyes narrowed as she continued to scrutinize him. "Isn't that the point? You must want something from me if you're letting this slide."

Megumi's expression tightened at her assumption, and he couldn't help but quietly scoff. "You're... really childish." he muttered, making Nino's eyes widen.

"…Childish?" she repeated.

"Childish," he said simply, narrowing his eyes. "Assuming something like that right away... it's just childish."

Nino was momentarily silenced by Megumi's choice of words, suddenly feeling self-conscious under his gaze.

"I don't expect anything from you, and I don't want anything from you," Megumi said after a moment, his voice neutral as he pressed the elevator button. "I'm here to do what I need to do, not to play your games."

Once again, Nino could only watch in stunned silence as Megumi upended her assumptions.

"I'm not going to tell anyone simply because I have no intention of harming you. Regardless of what you think of me, I'm not here to ruin your life or anything like that," Megumi continued, his tone carrying a sense of finality. "That's why your perception of me is just... stupid."

With that, the elevator door closed, leaving Nino alone.

She stared at the closed elevator in silence, her face still etched with shock.

So that's it? No blackmail, no threats, just a dismissive shrug and a label of 'childish'.

Megumi had treated her like a disinterested adult dealing with a troublesome child. There was no real frustration, just an air of indifference.

As Nino processed this, her frustration and confusion mounted. He wasn't just unaffected by the drug—he was unaffected by her entirely.

Nino had always managed to provoke a reaction in people, but this time, she had failed miserably.

She had never gone so far as to drug someone; it was a criminal act after all. But now, she had crossed that line, doing something she had once deemed unthinkable.

And yet, she was met with a shrug and no acknowledgment. She felt like an artist watching their masterpiece being spat upon.

A wave of frustration surged through Nino, tightening her jaw.

She couldn't understand.

"...Just who is this guy?"

————————————————————————————————————————

A/N: Sorry about the delay, I'm still recovering. I've been hospitalized several times for my appendix, but it was never inflamed enough to warrant removal until last weeks. I hope that now that I don't have that thing anymore I won't need to go near hospitals for a long time.