After speaking, Machiyoi led Ren back into the main hall.
She settled him first, brought out the dishes,
then—no one knew from where—produced a baby crib, set Kaguya inside, and left two toys for her.
Long legs flashing, she headed into the kitchen again,
this time to prepare baby food for Kaguya.
Ren ate while glancing at the crib and toys by his side. They looked like the ones he'd used as a child.
"Father, Oba-sama is truly kind—too kind to you. You brought me back and she didn't even ask why," Kaguya chimed, playing with her toys like an ordinary infant.
"That's Oba-san."
Ren sighed. "Honestly, to this day I still don't know why. I never doubted our bond, but I can't figure out why a great yokai would take care of me from the very beginning."
It was what puzzled him most.
But as he always said: if Oba-san didn't want to tell him, he wouldn't ask.
As for any connection to his cardboard-cutout parents?
None. Machiyoi didn't even know who they were.
"Father, don't you want to know?" Kaguya asked, suddenly mysterious.
Ren set down his bowl, brow lifting. "Do people from the Lunar Capital enjoy watching monkeys like the Trisolarans?"
"Watching… monkeys?"
Clearly,
Kaguya—still not fully evolved into the NEET Princess—didn't get the joke.
Ren let it pass. "No need. If Oba-san wants to tell me, she will. Hearing it from someone else wouldn't feel right."
"Father, how am I an outsider?" Kaguya protested.
"Clicking my tongue already, huh…"
"I just turned eighteen, and I already have a daughter—and a princess at that. So where's my wife?"
Kaguya nearly sat bolt upright. She dropped the toy, waved her tiny hands, utterly excited. "Father, do your best! I can't wait for the day you find a wife. Tell me when you do—this humble one will give you a push!"
Ren fell silent.
Truly,
her unhinged streak didn't start with becoming a NEET Princess.
She was born that way.
A wife?
Didn't he know exactly who Kaguya meant?
None other than her "Father" up in the Lunar Capital—Tsukuyomi, one of the Three Noble Children who, by special means, dodged the fading of the age of gods and the collapse of myth.
"Kaguya, you really are a most dutiful daughter," Ren muttered.
Kaguya was unbothered, tipping up her chin. "This humble one agrees. I am very dutiful. I look forward to the day Father brings back his wife, and when that day comes…"
When that day comes,
she very much wanted to see what kind of face her own "Father" would make—and how flustered he'd be.
Yes.
Yes.
That was the expression she most wanted to see.
"Yu, Kaguya."
Just then, Machiyoi emerged from the kitchen, interrupting the outrageous "father–daughter" talk.
She strode over, lifted Kaguya, and with a bottle-like contraption began to feed her.
Where the milk came from?
Ren wasn't sure. Their home had always had it—and it tasted great.
Some mother sheep yokai preferred not to comment.
What could she do?
When a great yokai rapped her on the head, could she resist? She could only obey.
If she taps you with an umbrella, you listen.
Otherwise,
next time she'll use a knife.
Since then, the sheep yokai had become their supplier.
"Kaguya, slower, slower," Machiyoi coaxed as the girl guzzled, her smile warm and brimming with maternal love.
She was, after all, an Ubume of overflowing motherliness.
Machiyoi knew Kaguya was special, but faced with such a cute child, she couldn't help but dote.
Besides,
this was Yu's daughter. If Yu acknowledged her, then she was Machiyoi's own.
"Hic—"
Kaguya downed the sheep's milk and let out a completely unladylike burp.
Machiyoi lifted her to pat her back with care.
Ren couldn't help asking, "Kaguya, are things really that bad up there?"
He didn't deny sheep's milk was delicious, but did she have to look like she'd never tasted anything good?
She was a princess of the Lunar Capital.
"Father,"
Kaguya retorted without hesitation, "you have no idea how miserable it is up there. This kind of thing—this humble one has never even tasted it. It drove me mad."
Watching his daughter,
Ren figured she wasn't lying.
As for life in the Lunar Capital—
to maintain purity and reject defilement, their food probably wasn't just bland; it was dew and grass.
"Yu."
Machiyoi sat on the chaise in the parlor, her long legs together, gently soothing Kaguya.
The "sofa" there was sofa-like enough.
How it was made? He had no idea. He'd voiced a concept; Oba-san made it happen.
He simply couldn't stand tatami—too hard, not his thing.
"Oba-san?" Ren set down his chopsticks and looked over.
Smiling softly, Machiyoi asked, "Yu, you've turned eighteen. What do you plan to do next?"
(End of Chapter)
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