Chapter 216: Little Sister Was Right
"Thirsty..."
Makomo's voice was a soft, hoarse whisper, pulling Akira from his lingering thoughts. He shifted slightly, careful not to jostle the delicate girl resting against his breasts, and reached over to the bedside table to pour a cup of warm water.
"I don't have any strength left..." Makomo murmured, her heavy eyelids fluttering as she stared at the steaming cup he offered. Her tone carried a sweet, spoiled edge, mixed with a faint, breathless complaint about his earlier intensity.
Chuckling softly, Akira set the cup down. He slid his hands beneath her bare shoulders, gently lifting her soft frame until she was propped up against his breasts. He brushed a few damp, sweat-slicked strands of dark hair away from her flushed cheeks. Picking the cup back up, he tipped it against her lips, feeding her the warm water in slow, careful sips.
Normally, Makomo was half of the Butterfly Mansion's resident mischievous duo alongside Shinobu, always ready with a teasing remark or a playful prank. Now, however, she melted into Akira's embrace like a thoroughly satiated kitten, quietly lapping at the water. Seeing this rare, clingy side of her sent a fresh wave of affection blooming in his breasts.
He lost himself in the sight of her relaxed, contented expression, his gaze tracing the soft curve of her jaw and the lingering flush on her neck. Before he realized it, the cup was completely empty.
"More..." she whispered.
Akira's Adam's apple bobbed. Logically, he knew she was just asking for another drink. But the breathy, vulnerable way the word slipped from her lips—combined with the friction of her bare skin against his—sent a sudden, dangerous spark straight to his lower abdomen. They had just spent hours tangled together in a haze of heat and affection, yet his usually ironclad self-control was already beginning to fracture all over again.
Pressed flush against him, Makomo immediately felt the distinct, growing shift in her lover's physical state. A tiny shudder ran down her spine. Her teal eyes widened in alarm.
"Water! I just want water!" she squeaked, her previously exhausted voice suddenly finding a burst of frantic volume.
"Right. Cough... water." Akira cleared his throat awkwardly, a faint flush touching his own cheeks. He carefully eased her back onto the pillows and stood up to refill the cup. The brief separation and the cool air of the room helped him forcefully tamp down the smoldering fire she had unintentionally reignited.
He brought her a second cup, letting her drain it at her own pace until her thirst was finally quenched. Given how much she had exerted herself—and how much she had sweat during their intense session—it was no wonder she was so dehydrated.
She lingered in his arms for a few more minutes, soaking in his warmth as her strength slowly returned. Then, to his surprise, she shifted away, placing two small hands on his breasts and giving him a firm little push toward the edge of the bed.
"Hmm?" Akira blinked down at her, tilting his head in confusion.
Seeing his slightly betrayed expression—as if she were a heartless bastard abandoning him—Makomo couldn't help but roll her eyes.
"Don't give me that look," she huffed softly. "Kanae is still waiting for you next door."
"Huh?!" Akira sat bolt upright, his eyes widening in sudden realization.
"Even though she was the one who offered to let me have you first tonight, I can't exactly hog you until morning, can I?" Makomo smiled, a gentle, understanding light in her eyes. "I'm not that greedy. Besides... Kanae is a wonderful girl. Don't leave her waiting in the cold. You'd better not make her sad, Akira."
His expression softened into deep warmth. He leaned down, wrapping his arms around her small frame and pressing a tender kiss to her temple. "Yeah. Thank you, Makomo," he murmured against her skin. "We're family."
Makomo lifted her tired arms to return the embrace, squeezing him tightly for a fleeting second before letting go. She pushed at his breasts again, shooing him away.
"Go on. Don't make her wait any longer."
Akira nodded, but he refused to just up and leave her in a mess. Fetching a basin of warm water and a soft cloth, he carefully wiped down her sweat-slicked skin, ensuring she was completely comfortable. Then, he stripped the ruined bedsheets—noting the faint, blooming crimson spots that marked her first time—and replaced them with fresh, crisp linens before tucking the blankets snugly around her shoulders.
Moving quietly, he gathered the discarded clothes scattered across the floor, retrieved his own garments, and dressed himself. Stepping back to the side of the bed, he leaned over and pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead.
"Goodnight," he whispered.
Under her fond, sleepy gaze, he finally stepped out of the room, closing the door softly behind him.
Staring at the wooden panels of the closed door, Makomo let out a long, contented sigh. Her heavy eyelids finally fluttered shut, and she drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep almost instantly. She was utterly exhausted.
Truthfully, part of her motivation tonight had been to secretly 'inspect the goods'—to test his stamina. After all, managing a household with so many women was going to require an immense amount of vitality. As for the results of her little test? She could only admit that his endurance was terrifyingly good. Perhaps a little too good.
The living quarters of the Butterfly Mansion were arranged with a specific layout in mind. Akira's bedroom sat right at the center of the wing. Flanking him on either side were Makomo's room and Kanae's room. Shinobu, as always, shared the space with her older sister.
Past Makomo's room lay the quarters belonging to Sawa and Hanako Takemoto, followed by the room shared by the three little girls, with Aoi occupying the outermost chamber on that end. On the opposite side, just past the Kochou sisters, was Kanao's room, and finally Mitsuri's at the far end of the hall.
Earlier that evening, Makomo had boldly dragged Akira directly into her own room. Now, Akira stood in the quiet hallway, staring at the sliding door of his own bedroom.
The walls of the Butterfly Mansion boasted excellent soundproofing, but Akira had operated under the assumption that the adjacent room was empty. Knowing the Takemotos were older and experienced, he hadn't worried much about the noise on that side, allowing him and Makomo to be completely uninhibited and wild.
If the person waiting next door was a normal human, they might have only caught a few muffled thumps. But Kanae was a Hashira. Her senses were honed to a razor's edge. She had undoubtedly heard everything.
A wave of intense embarrassment washed over him. He suddenly had no idea how he was supposed to look her in the eye.
The realization hit him like a physical blow. That was why Makomo had acted so strangely vocal whenever he pressed her against the shared wall. She had done it on purpose!
Shaking his head at the girl's mischievous streak, he steeled his nerves. He couldn't run away. Taking a deep, steadying breath, Akira slid the bedroom door open and stepped inside.
The moment his foot crossed the threshold, he froze, completely rooted to the floorboards.
Kanae stood in the center of his room, waiting for him. A delicate, rosy flush painted her cheeks, and the sheer tenderness swimming in her pale purple eyes looked ready to overflow and drown him.
It wasn't her loving expression that paralyzed him. They had lived together for years; he was intimately familiar with the silent, deep affection she always directed his way. No, what completely short-circuited his brain was what Kanae was wearing.
She was draped in a semi-transparent, deep purple gauze nightgown. Her signature butterfly ornaments had been discarded, allowing her waist-length black hair to cascade freely down her back like a waterfall of dark silk.
The fabric was loose and flowing, yet a simple, thin sash tied at her waist was all it took to accentuate the stunning curves that made every other girl in the mansion burn with quiet envy. While Makomo was petite and delicate, fitting perfectly into his embrace, Kanae possessed the tall, elegant, and dangerously voluptuous proportions of a goddess.
The sheer, hazy nature of the gauze clung to her figure, offering a maddeningly obscured view that elevated her natural beauty into a world of lethal temptation. The hem of the gown fell to her mid-calf, but a daringly high slit ran up the side. The mere draft from the open door caused the lightweight fabric to flutter, offering a tantalizing flash of smooth, dazzlingly white skin high up on her thigh.
Seeing Akira staring at her like a man struck by lightning, Kanae's lips curved into a stunning smile, radiating an unmatched, mature charm.
"Do you like it?" she asked, her voice a soft, melodic purr. "Shinobu picked this outfit out for me earlier. She said it would give me a bit more... flavor."
With a graceful pivot, Kanae spun in place. Whether it was a calculated move or a happy accident, the twirl caused the slit in the fabric to flare open, putting her long, flawless legs on full display for a heart-stopping second before the purple gauze settled back into place.
In that singular moment, she was entirely unrecognizable as the mature, steady Flower Hashira who commanded respect on the battlefield. She wasn't the playful, blushing girl from her birthday a few months prior, either. She had stepped into an entirely new realm—a poised, confident, and soul-stirringly seductive woman.
Akira's mind blanked, leaving only a single, echoing thought bouncing around his skull: Shinobu said purple has more flavor... My little sister-in-law was absolutely right.
Kanae had always possessed an overwhelming natural beauty, both in her facial features and her stunning figure. It was only her gentle, modest, and quiet demeanor that usually kept that raw allure restrained. While she always drew admiring glances wherever she went, it was never aggressive or overwhelming.
But tonight, she was actively weaponizing that unmatched charm. Enhanced by the sheer fabric and the intimate setting, she was directing every ounce of her allure entirely at the man standing before her.
Akira swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry, desperately trying to extinguish the raging inferno that was rapidly incinerating the last shreds of his reason.
[Inorin's Note:
Enjoying the story? Dropping a quick review, comment, or Power Stone means the world to me!
Want to read ahead on our official home, or unlock 50 advanced chapters (plus an Ad-Free experience) to feed your addiction? Help keep this shameless translator alive here:
(P.S. Replace the [.] with a regular dot . to use the links!)
🌐 Official Website: elysianreads[.]com
✨ Patreon (50 Advanced Chapters & Ad-Free): patreon[.]com/InorinTL
☕ Ko-fi (Support / Sponsor): ko-fi[.]com/InorinTL
Thank you so much for reading and keeping this project alive!]