"Oh my~."
Shiba Miori froze for just a breath, then immediately snapped open the iron fan in her hand with a sharp snap! The graceful gesture hid the mischievous curve of her lips, but her eyes glimmered with unmistakable cunning.
"Mahiro-san, Miori sincerely apologizes for her rudeness earlier…" she said, bowing ever so slightly with calculated elegance. "As an apology, may I invite you to lunch? And—" her tone sharpened with a sly edge— "I'm also prepared to pay handsomely if you'd agree to work with Shiba Heavy Industries. How about it?"
"No way! Absolutely not! Keep your scheming hands off him, you vixen!"
Tendō Kisara instantly spread her arms wide, shielding Mahiro as though she were a mother hen guarding her precious chick.
"I wasn't talking to you, Mother Orangutan." Miori stepped past Kisara with a practiced smile. "I'm speaking to Mahiro-san. It must be such a hassle working under her, right?"
She waved her fan lazily, her every word laced with mockery. "The location of your agency is terrible, the salary laughable. Why not join us at Shiba Heavy Industries instead? With us, I can guarantee not just a high salary but also the best weapons and equipment—completely free of charge."
The audacity of it—brazenly trying to poach him right in front of Kisara! Yet that was exactly Shiba Miori's style. She had originally come to this IISO branch to scout for promising IFA prospects as usual, but stumbling upon Yotsuba Mahiro here had been an unexpected delight. And the fact that he was under the wing of her eternal rival, Tendō Kisara, made it all the more delicious.
At first, it had only been about teasing Kisara—as always, making her fume was one of Miori's greatest joys in life. But the moment she learned of Mahiro's ranking—over 8,000 despite not having an Initiator partner yet—her mind started working.
Shiba Heavy Industries was the world's largest arms dealer, yet they lacked a truly representative IFA team. Sponsoring someone ranked in the top fifty was nearly impossible without connections. But Mahiro? His potential was fresh, raw. With the right Initiator, breaking into the top hundred—or even the top fifty—wasn't an impossible dream.
And more than that… her intuition whispered that Mahiro was hiding something. A secret. And Shiba Miori's intuition was rarely wrong.
"Stop ignoring me!" Kisara's patience finally snapped. Her roar echoed through the hall, drawing the attention of everyone nearby.
But when they saw Shiba Miori standing there, they quickly looked away, pretending to notice nothing. No one wanted trouble with Shiba Heavy Industries.
"Oh, Kisara. You're still here?" Miori's smile widened as she feigned surprise. "Sorry, sorry, your chest is just so… oversized, I didn't notice your face at all. Honestly, I thought you were some escaped zoo animal."
"You—!"
Crack! Kisara's fists tightened so hard her knuckles turned white, bones grinding together audibly. The sound was enough to make weaker people flinch.
"Well then, let's just put the Mother Orangutan aside for now."
Miori ignored her rival completely, looping her arm around Mahiro's. "Mahiro-kun, what do you say? Won't you reconsider my offer? Whatever conditions you want, we can renegotiate. You'll definitely get more with us than what Kisara can offer. After all, isn't she practically starving? I heard the president of Tendō Agency can't even afford a proper meal."
Every barb was aimed to pierce Kisara, and the worst part was—they were true. Mahiro had even seen with his own eyes the day Kisara fainted from hunger.
Still—
"Thank you, Shiba-san, for the generous offer." Mahiro gently pulled his arm free, stepping back with a polite smile. "But I'm just a novice who doesn't even have an Initiator yet. I'm hardly worthy of such high regard."
Please, don't drag me into your feud…
Creak, creak… On Kisara's side, the sound of her teeth grinding became almost unbearable. She regretted bitterly not bringing her sword, Snow Shadow. If she had, she would've already used it to silence Miori.
"Oh my, you're too modest. Shiba Heavy Industries can easily find you the most compatible Initiator. Besides, every IFA who made it big started as a novice, didn't they?"
Pop! Kisara's temple pulsed violently, a blood vessel bursting as she lowered her head, her long hair falling like a curtain to hide her face.
Slowly, she walked toward the main entrance, snatching up one of the metal poles used as an isolation barrier.
"Hey, Mahiro-kun," she muttered darkly, pointing the weapon at Miori. "Don't you think this floor looks a little plain? Maybe it could use a splash of Miori's blood to brighten it up…"
Her voice was low and chilling, her eyes dull beneath the shadow of her hair. To Kisara, Mahiro wasn't just an ally she'd met a few days ago—he was her treasure. That strange Midas touch ability of his was vital for the agency's survival, and she would not let anyone steal him away.
And for Shiba Miori to brazenly try and snatch him away in front of her, all while tossing out sarcastic insults, was like pouring oil onto a blazing fire.
"President Kisara, calm down," Mahiro warned, raising his hands in a pacifying gesture while taking several careful steps back. His expression was calm, but inwardly, he was sweating bullets. "If you wreck this hall, they'll make you pay for damages."
"Heh… calm?" Kisara's voice shook as she laughed, her breathing turning ragged. "Mahiro-kun, my anger is ecstatic right now!"
She clenched her teeth so hard her words came out broken, her fury leaking into every syllable.
"You shameless vixen!" she snarled, pointing the metal pole at Miori like it was her sword. "So help me, one day I'll short your company's stocks until they collapse, then crash your shareholders' meeting just to watch you weep!"
Miori covered her mouth with her fan and chuckled mockingly. "Oh, how reckless. Do you even understand what you're saying, Kisara-chan? Shiba Heavy Industries is listed on the Tokyo Stock Exchange, part of the Nikkei 60. Shorting us would be suicidal."
Her gaze turned sharp and taunting. "And tell me, how much capital could a runaway daughter of the Tendō family possibly have? If you really want to make money, why not buy our stock instead? You might even earn enough to feed yourself properly."
"Baka! If you think I'd ever buy stock in your company, I'd rather bite my own tongue off!" Kisara shot back, her voice dripping venom.
"…Ara, ara. It sounds like you do want to fight." Miori's tone shifted, her playful lilt sharpening into something colder.
"Rest in peace, Miori!" Kisara hissed.
With practiced grace, Miori drew a custom-made M1911 pistol from the sleeve of her kimono. She flicked her fan open in her other hand, assuming the stance of her school's style.
"Behold, the might of Shiba-ryū," she declared with a smug smile.
Kisara tightened her grip on the pole, lowering her body into the distinct stance of Tendō-ryū's Nirvana Myōshin Kata. Her crimson eyes glinted with fury.
"Shut your mouth, you fox! Keep spouting nonsense when you're rotting in hell!"
The air between the two women crackled like lightning before a storm. The atmosphere grew so tense that even Mahiro could feel it pressing on his skin.
And then—
"Shiba-ryū: Twin Heavens—Orange Butterfly Hell!" Miori called out.
"Tendō-ryū Sword Drawing Technique: Type One, Number Two!" Kisara countered.
The bodyguards assigned to Miori froze, wide-eyed. None dared to intervene—offending their young lady was unthinkable, but crossing the Tendō family's heir was equally dangerous.
The security guards on standby quickly retreated, muttering under their breaths. "No way we're getting in between those two… This is way above our pay grade."
Yes—when dragons and tigers clash, ordinary workers can only run.
…
…
…
In the end, the clash between Tendō Kisara and Shiba Miori ended without a decisive winner.
But Mahiro? He had the time of his life watching it all unfold.
Not only did he secretly copy their sword techniques, but—let's be honest—watching two beautiful girls duel with such passion was every man's guilty pleasure.
If he had to judge, Kisara had the upper hand, if only slightly. Though Miori clearly held back, half-fighting and half-teasing, Kisara still managed to hold her ground—even with her weakened condition and nothing but an iron pole. If Kisara had been in peak health and wielding her true sword, Snow Shadow, a real duel would likely have ended with her victory.
Satisfied, Mahiro slipped away when the tension finally broke.
For the first time in his life, as he returned home, he felt something strange—like his chest was a little lighter. It was the warmth of knowing someone was waiting for him. That feeling of belonging…
Although it was unfamiliar, it wasn't unpleasant.
"I'm home~," he called as he pushed open the door.
"…W-welcome home, Master," came the soft, timid reply.
Mahiro froze for a moment before smiling wryly. He heard light, almost hesitant footsteps pattering across the floor, and then Mibu-chan appeared at the entrance, barefoot.
Cleaned up, Asaka Mibu's cuteness was undeniable. The features of a young beauty-to-be were already blossoming on her face, and her long, glossy black hair fell like a silky curtain down her back. If she tied it up with a white ribbon, she'd look almost exactly like her original appearance in his memories.
But right now—since Mahiro had thrown out all her old rags—she was wearing one of his white shirts. It wasn't quite as oversized as he had expected, but on her petite frame it hung loose, looking like a dress.
Her crimson eyes no longer carried the wild fear from yesterday, though a certain lifelessness still lingered in them.
And most of all—that word she had used.
"Ehh, wait a second. Mibu-chan, you don't need to call me Master. If anyone overhears, they'll think I'm some kind of creep." Mahiro waved his hands nervously. "If you're okay with it, just call me Big Brother. Big Brother Mahiro. Sounds better, right?"
Having a loli call him "Master" might sound satisfying to some twisted people, but Mahiro didn't exactly want the police knocking on his door.
"…Mahiro… Big Brother?" Asaka Mibu whispered, as though tasting the unfamiliar words on her tongue.
It was clear she had never said them before, the concept itself foreign to her.
"That's right," Mahiro said with a gentle nod. He bent down slightly, his hand reaching out to stroke her smooth black hair. "I'm your big brother. And you, Mibu-chan, are my little sister. This is your home now. You don't need to be afraid anymore."
His touch, once alien, now seemed to comfort her. She didn't flinch or tremble like before. Instead, her crimson eyes widened, staring blankly at him as though trying to understand.
"...Big Brother... Little Sister... Home? C-can I... have a home too?"
The girl's trembling voice broke the silence, her tiny finger pointing at herself as if the very idea of home was a forbidden dream she dared not claim. The word carried a weight so different for her than for anyone else.
Born as a Cursed Child, thrown away like garbage by her own parents, Asaka Mibu had grown up with no place in the world. Whenever she saw other children holding their mother's hand or clinging to their father's sleeve, she couldn't help but feel a stabbing ache in her heart. She yearned for that warmth, for the meaning of home.
But even more than yearning, she feared it. Because if she found it... what if it abandoned her again?
"Of course you can," Mahiro said gently, his voice like sunlight breaking through clouds. "I've already told you, this is your home."
Her eyes widened. "...Is... is that so? I... have a home now... Thank you... Thank you very much..."
The words escaped her lips in a daze, as if she was afraid they would shatter the fragile moment. But her eyes betrayed her. Shimmering tears welled up until the world blurred, and before she realized it, warm droplets were sliding down her cheeks.
She reached out a fingertip to touch them.
Huh? Strange...
Why am I crying? Even when I was beaten black and blue, even when my body screamed in pain, I never shed tears. Not once...
But now—why? Why does my chest ache so much? Why does it feel like something inside me is breaking?
It's so strange... so warm...
"Don't cry," Mahiro said softly. "It's just a small matter. From now on, I'll protect Mibu-chan well... as your big brother."
Her small body trembled. She clutched at her chest, overwhelmed. "...To you, maybe it's a small matter... But to me, it's definitely not small at all. Thank you... thank you, onii-san...!"
And with that, the dam inside her broke.
Tears gushed forth, overflowing like a river. Asaka Mibu wept—loudly, messily, like a child should. For the first time in her life, she didn't hold it in.
Her long-empty heart, starved of affection, was finally being filled. The lifeless eyes that once reflected only gray despair now shimmered with color, with hope.
The broken girl who had lived like a shadow was slowly piecing herself back together.
No longer did she have to pretend to be strong. No longer did she have to bite her lip and endure everything alone.
From this moment on, she had someone to rely on. She wouldn't have to starve anymore. She wouldn't have to shiver in the dark, hiding from cruel eyes. She could cry when she was sad, and someone would be there to listen. She could fall, and someone would be there to lift her back up.
The boy before her, who seemed like a deity descending into her miserable world, had become her light... her hero.
This is truly... wonderful.
If this was a dream, she prayed she would never wake up.
Mahiro reached out, kneeling so he was eye-level with her. "Cry all you want. The past is over. A brighter future is waiting for you, Mibu-chan."
The girl's sobs grew louder as he wrapped his arms around her tiny frame. At first, her body stiffened, instincts screaming at her to pull away. All her life, human contact had meant pain.
But slowly, she realized—this embrace was different. Warmth, not cruelty. Safety, not fear.
Her small arms rose shakily, then clung tightly to his neck as she buried her face in his chest and cried with all her might.
Like a wounded beast finally finding shelter, she released everything she had bottled up.
That night, the girl called Asaka Mibu left her old self behind—left behind the pain, the trash-filled alleyways, and the despair that had shackled her.
Under the morning glow of dawn, she welcomed a new life.
….. … ..
Time flowed on.
Before anyone realized it, a year had passed.
"Yotsuba boy, come play ~ Big Brother will show you a feeling you'll never forget ~"
"Mahiro-kun ~ Want to hang out with Big Sister today? I can take you somewhere very exciting ~"
The Ootori Bar on the first floor, and the flashy nightclub on the second, still buzzed with activity as usual. The staff, always mischievous, constantly tried to drag him into their schemes.
But as always, Yotsuba Mahiro politely brushed them off.
"Sorry, not interested," he replied firmly, slipping past their pouts and disappointed sighs.
A year had given him plenty of practice dodging such antics.
Ascending the stairs to the third floor, he pushed open the office door.
"President Kisara."
"Oh, Mahiro, you're here."
Tendo Kisara, the one who had taken him under her wing, sat behind her desk. Her slender fingers flew across the keyboard, the clacking sound filling the room. She didn't even glance up at him.
A pair of glasses rested on her nose. They weren't prescription, but rather anti-blue-light, she'd once explained, to relieve fatigue. Still, they gave her an air of authority.
The Kisara of today wasn't quite the same as the one Mahiro had met before.
Her presence had grown sharper, more commanding—the aura of a true leader.
It was only natural. After all, the Tendo Office had transformed over the past year. Thanks to Mahiro's influence, its reputation had soared. They no longer dealt with just petty requests. Now, they were sought after for commissions from all walks of life—even those from the Holy Son's direct circle.
The office wasn't just surviving. It was thriving.
And not only the office. The entire building had changed—the bar and nightclub downstairs, the lending company upstairs—all were flourishing in this new wave of prosperity.