Today's chapter.....
I thought we will fall of the top ten after last week, but NOPE. We still 6thđ„đ„ Let's keep it going!!
And I see we getting closer to 400 PS!! Keep it going!!
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The alarm clock on the bedside table began to ring at exactly 5:30 AM.
Tring, Tring... Tring, Tring...
It wasn't an annoying noise like the classic, RINGGGGGGGGGGGG. Which was designed to wake the sleeper without spiking their cortisol levels â a feature Honoka Shuzenji appreciated greatly.
She opened her eyes, reached out a hand to silence the device, and sat up. Stretching herself.
Day one of the China Operation, she thought, sliding her feet into her slippers. Or, as Nia calls it, the Dumpling Crusade.
The mansion was silent. The heavy soundproofing kept out the early morning wind rattling against the hillside.
Honoka walked to the en-suite bathroom. It was a spa-like sanctuary made out of marble and heated floors. She stepped into the shower, letting the hot water wash away the fatigue of yesterday's emotional marathon in the gym.
After drying off, she stood in front of the massive vanity mirror.
Most women her age â CEOs of multinational corporations, former Pro Heroes, mothers of teenagers â had a skincare routine that resembled a chemistry experiment. Toners, serums, essences, moisturizers, eye creams, night creams, day creams.
Honoka picked up a simple jar of moisturizer. She dabbed a bit on her cheeks. Then she applied a light sunscreen.
That was it.
She looked at her reflection. Her skin was flawless. No wrinkles, no sunspots, no sagging.
Having a healing quirk definitely has its perks, she thought, a small, smug smile on her lips. Cellular regeneration keeps the collagen production high. Eat your heart out, cosmetic industry.
She moved to her walk-in closet.
Usually, this was the part where she armored up. The sharp blazers, the pencil skirts, the heels that clicked like gunshots on the boardroom floor, you know the classy stuff. The uniform of any standard CEO.
But today... today, she was on vacation. Technically.
She ignored the suits. She reached for something softer.
She pulled out a long, flowing white sundress made of linen. It was elegant but breathable, perfect for travel. She paired it with a wide-brimmed straw hat with a black ribbon.
She looked in the full-length mirror.
Perfect, she decided. The 'Casual Mom on a Yacht' look. Approachable, but expensive.
She made her bed with military precision â old habits never died â and walked out to the kitchen.
The kitchen was bathed in the soft, light of dawn filtering through the windows.
Honoka hummed a soft tune as she moved around the island.
"Light breakfast," she murmured to herself. "Don't want anyone getting airsick on the jet."
She pulled out a cutting board and a knife. And started chopping a variety of fruits.
Chop. Chop. Chop.
Watermelon. Cantaloupe. Pineapple. Strawberries.
She arranged them artfully on a large platter. She toasted some bread, brewed a pot of coffee for herself and Akira, and poured a small saucer of milk for Nia.
She set the table. Three places. Napkins folded. Cutlery aligned.
She stepped back to admire her work. It looked like an image from a lifestyle magazine.
She checked the clock.
7:55 AM.
"We leave in thirty minutes," she noted.
She walked into the living room. The suitcases were lined up by the door in an orderly manner. Akira's sleek black case, her own designer luggage, and Nia's small travel carrier (which she refused to get in, but they brought it anyway for legal reasons).
Everything was ready.
She walked back to the dining room, expecting both of them to be there.
8:00 AM.
Silence from upstairs. Not a creak. Not a footstep.
Honoka sighed.
"These lazy bums," she muttered affectionately. "They get one emotional breakthrough and think they can sleep all they want."
She marched up the stairs. She reached Akira's door and opened it without knocking.
The room was dark, the blackout curtains doing their job a little too well. The air smelled faintly of mint vapor and teenage boy (which was mostly deodorant and sleep).
Honoka walked over to the bed and stopped.
The sight melted her heart and annoyed her at the same time.
Akira was sprawled out on the king-sized mattress like a starfish â or, more accurately, like a dropped omelet. One leg was hanging off the side, tangled in the sheets. One arm was thrown over his eyes.
And there, nestled deep in the messy nest of his silky red hair, was a black ball of fluff.
Nia was asleep on his head, rising and falling with his breath. She looked incredibly cozy, burrowed into the warmth of the 'Phoenix' locks.
They look so peaceful, Honoka thought, reaching for her phone to take a picture. Nezu will love this for the blackmail folder.
Click.
She pocketed the phone.
Then, she took a deep breath. She channeled her inner Field Commander.
"WAKE UP!!!!!"
Akira jolted. His body convulsed in a full-body flinch. He sat bolt upright, with his eyes wide.
Nia, dislodged from her nest, went flying.
"Mreow?!"
She tumbled down Akira's back and landed on the mattress with a soft thump.
"Ow..." Nia grumbled, shaking her head. "Earthquake? Villain? Daddy, kill it."
Akira blinked, his red eyes adjusting to the figure looming over him. "Mom? Is the house on fire?"
"No," Honoka said, crossing her arms. "But our schedule is about to be. Get ready quickly. We have to leave in half an hour. The pilot is waiting."
Akira groaned, rubbing his face. "Half an hour? That's... plenty of time. I can shower in three minutes."
"Hygiene is not a speedrun, Akira! Go! Now!"
She turned and marched out, calling over her shoulder. "Fruit is on the table! Don't let Nia eat the melon, it gives her gas!"
Twenty-five minutes later, Akira walked down the stairs.
He looked surprisingly put-together for someone who had been unconscious minutes ago. He was wearing a loose, casual grey yukata made of cotton â more breathable than his formal silk ones â paired with comfortable sandals. His red hair was still damp, but looked naturally good. He held his kiseru in one hand and a piece of toast in the other.
Nia was perched on his shoulder, licking a paw. She had groomed herself in record time.
"Ready?" Honoka asked, handing him a coffee travel mug.
"Born ready," Akira yawned, taking the mug. "Let's go conquer China. Or at least their buffet."
They loaded the SUV. Honoka drove, taking the highway route to the airstrip. The mood was light. The heavy clouds of the past few years seemed to have lifted, replaced by the excitement of travel.
They reached the hangar. The Shuzenji jet was prepped and waiting, engines idling with a high-pitched whine.
The pilot, a retired hero with a navigation quirk, waved from the cockpit.
"Morning, Mrs. Shuzenji! Master Akira! Little Nia!"
"Hiiiii!!" Nia yelled.
"Morning, Cap!" Akira waved back with his pipe.
They boarded.
The interior of the jet was cool and smelled of leather. Akira claimed the long sofa immediately.
"Calling on the couch!" he called out.
"There are enough couches for all of us, Akira," Honoka sighed, taking a leather armchair. "So relax."
"It does not work like that, Mom. Nia, secure the perimeter."
Nia jumped onto the table. "Perimeter secured! No mice detected! Requesting snacks!"
"We haven't even taken off yet," Honoka laughed.
The flight was three hours of pure fun.
Once they reached cruising altitude, Akira pulled out a portable console.
"Mario Kart?" he challenged his mother.
Honoka cracked her knuckles. "You're on. But if I win, you have to wear the tie I picked out for the gala."
"And if I win?"
"I'll let you wear whatever you want."
"Deal."
It was a bloodbath. Honoka, despite her lack of gaming experience, had disrupted Akira. She played Princess Peach with a level of aggression that was frankly terrifying.
"Blue shell!" Honoka screamed, tapping the button. "Eat it, Bowser!"
"That's cheap!" Akira yelled as his character spun out inches from the finish line. "That is a rubber-banding mechanic designed to punish skill!"
"It's called strategy, honey!"
Nia watched them, batting at the screen whenever a car moved too fast.
They ate lunch at 30,000 feet â sandwiches and fruit. They watched a bad action movie and critiqued the hero's unrealistic quirk usage. They laughed.
For three hours, they weren't the CEO, the future Symbol of Fear, or a lab experiment. They were just a mom, her son, and his daughter on a trip.
"Ladies and gentlemen," the pilot's voice crackled over the intercom. "We are beginning our descent into Shanghai Pudong International Airport. Current temperature is 24 degrees Celsius. Skies are clear."
Akira looked out the window.
Below them, the city of Shanghai sprawled out like a circuit board of light and glass. The Huangpu River wound through the city like a silver snake. The Oriental Pearl Tower stood tall and distinct, a futuristic needle piercing the skyline.
"That's one big city," Akira whispered. "Way bigger than I saw from the images."
"It's a global hub," Honoka nodded, fixing her hat. "Showtime, Akira. Put on your game face. And remember to put your translator in your ear!"
Akira stowed his console. He adjusted his yukata. He placed Nia on his head. Checked the battery for the ear translator.
The jet landed smoothly, taxiing to the private VIP terminal reserved for corporate guests and diplomats.
The stairs lowered.
Akira stepped out into the humid Shanghai air.
"Welcome to China," Honoka said, stepping down beside him.
They walked across the tarmac toward the terminal building.
Waiting for them was a welcoming committee.
It wasn't a standard chauffeur holding a sign. It was a spectacle.
A group of six people stood by a line of black limousines.
In the center stood a man. He was tall and lean, in a white suit that clashed with the industrial greys of the airport. He had dark hair, and he wore sunglasses despite the cloud cover. He leaned against the lead car with a practiced nonchalance.
Surrounding him were five women. They were beautiful, dressed in matching corporate uniforms that looked more like runway fashion than office wear.
They looked like a freaking K-pop group.
Honoka stopped. Her smile vanished. Her eye twitched.
She let out a long, suffering sigh that seemed to deflate her entire posture.
"Oh god," she muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Here he goes again."
Akira looked at the man. The man lowered his sunglasses, winked at them, spread his arms wide, and yelled in perfect Japanese.
"HONOKA! MY DEAR RIVAL! YOU HAVE ARRIVED!"
Akira looked at his mother. "Do we know him?"
"Unfortunately," Honoka groaned. "That is Jian Li. The CEO of Celestial Axis."
"And the harem?" Akira asked, gesturing to the five women.
"His wives, yeah," Honoka made air quotes. "He claims he needs five because his genius is too much for one person to manage."
Akira took a puff of his pipe.
"Dayam." That was all Akria could say.
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Here he is Jian.... He will be quite a personality. But I think you all will like him.
Let me know your thoughts.
Plus if you want, you can read up to +10 chapters and support me you can alway join my P@treaon. (Just search up Joe_Mama p@treon on google.)