The Oga household was unusually quiet for a summer evening.
No loud baby cries. No lightning bolts singeing the wallpaper. No Hilda's sharp voice chastising someone. And no Kogen lounging with that infuriating grin.
It was almost... peaceful.
Too peaceful.
Oga Tatsumi sat sprawled across the living room floor, his arms behind his head, a smirk plastered lazily on his face. Furuichi sat beside him, sipping on a canned drink he'd fished from the fridge, trying very hard not to look impressed at how calm the house was for once.
"See, Furuichi," Oga said, chuckling under his breath. "Finally... finally, I'm free. The brat, the maid, and that annoying bastard Kogen—they're all gone. Poof. Out of my house. Out of my life. No more explosions, no more sleepless nights, no more—"
"Responsibility?" Furuichi cut in, deadpan.
Oga's grin widened. "Exactly."
Furuichi snorted and looked away, though his lips twitched. "You sound like some old man bragging about dumping his family. Should I start calling you 'Deadbeat Oga'?"
"Shut it," Oga said, though he still looked relaxed, maybe a little too relaxed.
For the first time in months, he wasn't glancing at the corner of his eye expecting a sudden zap of electricity. His hand was free of the burning Zebel spell. He could walk more than fifteen meters without someone screaming. It was like a weight had been lifted—so why did his chest feel strangely tight?
Before he could think too much about it, a voice cut through the air.
"What are you idiots talking about?"
Both boys froze. Slowly, they turned toward the source.
Oga Misaki, his older sister, stood in the doorway with her arms folded, a scowl sharp enough to cut glass on her face.
Oga's smirk faltered, but he tried to recover quickly. "Oh, hey sis. Just celebrating, y'know? Peace at last. No baby, no weirdos, just me. Normal life again."
Furuichi muttered, "Normal, huh. For Oga, that means getting beat up by half the school every week."
Misaki's scowl deepened. She stepped into the room, her slippers slapping against the floor like warning bells. "So let me get this straight. You lost your wife and child... and you're sitting here laughing about it?"
Oga blinked. "Wife? Child? What the hell are you talking abou—"
WHAM!
Her fist connected with the top of his head before he could finish. Oga toppled sideways, clutching his skull.
"GAH! What the hell was that for, you demon woman?!"
"For being an idiot!" Misaki snapped. She glared down at him like a wrathful goddess. "Do you have any idea what kind of girl you just lost? Hilda-chan was a beauty, polite, strong, could cook better than Mom—"
"She used the kitchen knives as weapons," Oga muttered, still nursing his head.
"—and Kogen-kun too!" Misaki went on, ignoring him. "Polite, handsome, mature. Honestly, they were way out of your league. And then there's the baby! Adorable, round cheeks, that soft laugh—don't even get me started! And what did you do? You scared them off! Tell me, little brother—" She bent down, her eyes narrowing dangerously. "Where do you think you'll find another wife and child like that, huh?"
"Uh..." Oga broke into a nervous sweat. Misaki's aura was far scarier than any gang leader he'd fought. "Well, I mean, technically they weren't really—"
WHAM! Another blow. This time to his shoulder.
"Don't you dare make excuses!" Misaki barked. She jabbed a finger into his chest. "You're going to march out there and bring them back, got it?!"
"What?! No way!" Oga snapped back, finally pushing himself up. "Why the hell would I—"
BAM! Misaki's roundhouse kick caught him square in the ribs, sending him crashing into the wall with a thud.
"Because I said so," she said coolly, brushing her hair back into place. "And because you'll regret it for the rest of your life if you don't. Idiot brother."
Furuichi, who had been trying to make himself invisible in the corner, snickered quietly. "Heh. Guess even the great Oga can't win against his sis."
WHAM! Misaki's glare snapped to him, and before Furuichi could move, she smacked him with a slipper.
"OW! What was that for?!" he whined.
"You're his friend, aren't you? Then you're going too. Keep him in line. Don't come back until you bring them home!"
And just like that, both boys found themselves kicked out the front door, still sputtering in protest.
Outside – Night Air, Heavy Thoughts
Oga shoved his hands in his pockets, scowling. "Tch. Who the hell does she think she is? Ordering me around like that. Damn annoying woman."
Beside him, Furuichi rubbed the slipper mark on his face. "You are an idiot, you know. Most guys would kill to have a wife like Hilda—or Kogen, if that's your thing."
"Oi, don't lump me in with your pervy fantasies," Oga snapped.
But his scowl didn't last. His mind drifted back—unbidden—to Beel's tiny hands clutching his shirt, Kogen's sharp but disappointed eyes, Hilda's frustrated voice as she kicked him out.
The smirk he'd worn earlier felt fake now. Hollow.
He kicked at a loose stone on the pavement, muttering, "Still... who in their right mind would go chasing after them?"
But his steps didn't slow. In fact, he was already walking in the direction he'd last seen them.
Furuichi noticed. "Ha. You say one thing, but your feet are telling another story."
"Shut up."
Oga's Inner Conflict
The night breeze was cool, but Oga's chest felt heavy. Each corner they turned seemed to echo with faint memories: Beel's wails, Kogen's teasing "darling," Hilda's lectures.
He told himself he wanted freedom. He told himself he was glad the Zebel spell had disappeared. He told himself this was what he wanted all along.
So why did his hands clench into fists when he remembered Beel's feverish face buried against Kogen's chest? Why did Kogen's disappointed eyes sting more than any punch he'd ever taken?
He shook his head violently. "Tch. Doesn't matter. I didn't ask for any of this anyway."
But the words rang hollow, even to him.
Furuichi sighed. "Face it, man. You've been playing dad longer than you think. Maybe Misaki's right. Maybe you already got yourself a family."
Oga didn't answer. His jaw tightened. His fists clenched.
But his feet... kept moving forward.