The moment Mika's message arrived in the group chat and Yuna's phone buzzed, the fragile peace in the apartment was shattered.
With the force of a small, angry hornet, Yuna snatched it up. Then she saw it all: The selfie, the crepe, and the triumphant smile on Mika's face. It was Mika's declaration of war, delivered with a saccharine-sweet dessert.
Yuna let out a sound that was not quite human, a guttural growl of primal rage that seemed to vibrate through the very floorboards. "THAT... MANIPULATIVE... LITTLE... FOX!" she snarled, her thumbs a blur of motion as she typed out her death threat.
Ayane, who had been lounging on the couch and scrolling through her phone, let out a low whistle. "Wow, she's good. A loving-couple selfie, deployed for maximum psychological damage. That's a pro-level move," she said lazily.
Mafuyu, who had been quietly ironing one of the finished costumes, flinched at Yuna's outburst. She looked from Yuna's furious, trembling form to the picture on the phone with a worried expression on her face.
Yuna finished her tirade and slammed her phone down on the table with a loud clatter. She was a small, gray-haired hurricane of fury, her cute unicorn pajamas a ridiculous contrast to the murderous intent in her eyes.
"I'm going to kill her," she muttered. "And then I'm going to kill him. And then I'm going to bury their bodies under the floorboards and tell everyone they ran off to join a cult."
"Is this... normal for them?" Mafuyu thought as she shook her head. The yelling, the threats of violence... it wasn't the cold, terrifying anger she had known with Tatsuya. This was loud, but strangely safe, just like the chaotic noise of a real family.
She started gathering the discarded fabric and props from their earlier photoshoot, as if the simple domestic task were her comforting anchor amid the storm. As she was tidying, her hand brushed against an old, faded gray apron tucked between the room's corner. It was one of hers, from years ago.
She picked it up, the worn cotton soft and familiar in her hands. She remembered a tiny, grumpy Yuna standing on a stool, her face dusted with flour, trying so hard to whisk eggs without getting them all over the counter. "Ah, I was teaching her how to make tamagoyaki back then," she remembered.
Yuna, who had been in the middle of a furious monologue about the various ways one could dispose of a body, no, two bodies, stopped. She looked at the apron in Mafuyu's hands, and her face softened, just for a moment.
"Tch," she sniffed, turning her head away. "I thought I threw that old thing out."
But she didn't. She knew she couldn't.
"I was so small back then," Yuna remembered, the memory a sharp, sweet ache in her chest. "Always so angry. But Mafuyu-nee... she was very patient, never got mad. She would just clean up the mess and give me the first piece, the sweet tamagoyaki with more sugar, to calm me down."
The memory seemed to extinguish the fire of her rage, leaving only the warm embers of a long-forgotten affection. She looked at Mafuyu, who was still standing there, looking tired and a little lost. "Please sit down and rest, Mafuyu-nee," Yuna said, her voice low and grudging. "You've been taking care of us all day."
Ayane, who had been watching this entire exchange, finally spoke. "See?" she said with an amused smile. "That's why Makoto likes you, Yuna. From the outside, you look like a ball of rage. But inside, you're a spicy meatball of rage with a soft and goey center."
She stood up with a grin on her face. She walked over to Mafuyu, her hips swaying with confident rhythm. "And you, Mama-fu," she said, poking Mafuyu's shoulder. "You're not as sweet and gentle as you look outside."
She took the apron from Mafuyu's hands and tossed it onto the couch. "This apron won't work. If you want to take Makoto from us, you're not going to win by being the sweet, caring maid. You need to be more selfish and take what you want."
Ayane's voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "I have the perfect weapon for you." Her smile turned impossibly wicked. "I have a Marin Kitagawa costume, the succubus version. Our figures are... similar, so that it would look amazing on you. His brain would short-circuit seeing your ass and thighs in that skimpy outfit."
Mafuyu just stared back at her, her face turning a mortified shade of crimson.
Ayane laughed again. Her bright laugh seemed to fill the small apartment. Then she turned to Yuna. "You should stop with the death threats, Yuna. You're not fooling anyone!"
Yuna's face, which had been a mask of nostalgia, instantly snapped back into a furious glare. "What are you talking about, you giant, perverted cow? I was serious, I'm going to dismember them both."
Ayane just shook her head with a slow, almost pitying smile. "No, you're not," she said, her voice calm and even.
"You weren't mad because he was with Mika. You were mad because they were happy without you." The words were a direct hit, leaving Yuna reeling. "You were mad because they dared to be happy together when you weren't on a date with them."
Yuna opened her mouth to protest, but no words came out.
Ayane smiled knowingly. "You love Makoto," she said, her voice soft and gentle. "And you love Mika too, in your own messed-up, tsundere way. You're just pissed because you want them both to be happy, but only with you. You're a greedy, possessive little gremlin."
She patted Yuna's head with condescending affection. "Despite all those threats, you still allow me and Mafuyu to join... whatever mess this is. That's why we all agree you're the main wife."
She winked and turned away, swaying her hips. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go find Mama-fu that succubus costume."