Peter Pan - 3
Even without asking, the two women's wavering gazes told me there was something wrong with the meal preparation. To steel myself mentally, I called out to Yukiko.
"How bad is it? Not to the point of being inedible, right?"
"From the start, I wouldn't let Master's meal be botched so carelessly. Please don't worry about the food."
"That's a relief, then... so why do you both look so glum?"
Mikoto pretended to bonk herself on the head and stuck out her tongue. That gesture would've pissed me off if I'd seen it from anyone else, but coming from this genuinely cute girl, it just drew a fond smile from me.
"It's because... all the failed dishes have to be eaten by Mikoto and Yukiko!"
"Since my instruction was lacking, it's only natural that I take responsibility. If anything, I'm sorry that it delayed Master's mealtime."
It didn't look all that different on the surface, but wasn't Yukiko's standard a bit too harsh?
"How bad, exactly?"
"Not to the point of being inedible. We never used any ingredients that couldn't be eaten to begin with, and Mikoto isn't completely clueless about cooking. It's just regrettable that she has zero talent for it."
"Ehh~ That's too mean, Yukiko-unni! Actually, Mikoto's food is totally edible if you add enough love, y'know?"
The dishes set before Mikoto and Yukiko looked a little off somehow, but given that it was home cooking, they were decent enough. If anything, Yukiko's consistently high-end kaiseki vibes were the abnormal part.
"Thanks, Mikoto. You too, Yukiko—good work. Mind if I try a bite?"
Yukiko's flawless cooking was impressive as always, but I was curious about Mikoto's flops too.
"Of course!"
Mikoto excitedly scooped a few pieces of meat onto my rice bowl. One bite, and I understood exactly why Yukiko hadn't wanted to serve it to me. Greasy. Salty. A far cry from Yukiko's usual crisp, clean flavors. This side dish definitely wouldn't pair with the rest of the menu.
"Delicious! Thanks, Mikoto."
Still, if I focused solely on that one piece of meat, it was tasty. Learning from a true pro like Yukiko couldn't have been easy, but Mikoto had clearly put in the effort.
Mikoto suddenly pouted. I had no idea what she was up to until she whipped her head away and opened her mouth.
"I-It's not like your praise makes me happy or anything!"
I barely stifled the laughter bubbling up. I'd felt it from the first time we met, but watching this tiny girl ham up her clichéd tsundere lines was like seeing a precocious little niece show off.
"Miss Misora. Do you think that sort of behavior is proper?"
But Yukiko's voice dropped like a blade of ice, and Mikoto—who'd been strutting triumphantly—froze solid in an instant.
"Eh, w-well, Master brother seems to like it, so..."
"If Master enjoys it, then I have no right to interfere. However, a slave must uphold certain boundaries."
"I-I'm sorry... Miss Yukiko..."
When Yukiko laid into someone with that icy composure, few had the guts to argue they were in the right.
"If you sensed something improper, your apology should be directed at Master, not me."
"S-Sorry, Master."
The mood at the table turned frigid in a heartbeat, so I scrambled to smooth things over—reassuring Mikoto she'd done nothing wrong, asking Yukiko not to be so strict.
Once the meal wrapped up awkwardly, I called for Yukiko. She still had cleanup, dishes, and extra chores to handle, so pulling her away for a chat right then wasn't easy. She'd come if I ordered her to drop everything, but I hated yanking her from work like that.
It took watching her bustling back and forth several times before retreating to my room before I finally caught a moment to talk.
"I'm sorry about earlier. I lost my composure and ruined Master's enjoyment. If you'd punish me, I'd accept it gladly."
Before I could even get a word out, Yukiko bowed deeply. I wrestled my gaze away from the curve of her hips and pulled her into a tight embrace.
"No punishment. I just wanted to hear why you seemed upset."
Truth be told, her "punish me" line had sparked a fleeting fantasy of spanking that perfect ass—but I knew better than to tease at a time like this.
"...No, that's not it. Master is enjoying himself thanks to Miss Mikoto. For me to sour your mood with careless words would be presumptuous."
"I'm always putting you in a tough spot, Yukiko..."
"I, too, always want to see Master smile. Miss Mikoto may be rude and lax at times, but she's far better at it than I am."
Yukiko's expression remained stiff, but every word brimmed with affection for me. I couldn't shake the feeling that she was too good for someone like me.
"Still, sorry if it feels like you're being left out..."
"It's my choice."
Her resolute face only made me feel more ashamed—and drove home that there was nothing more I could do here.
"Even so, if anything ever wears you down or hurts your feelings, you have to tell me, got it? Remember all the misunderstandings that piled up back when we barely talked?"
Yukiko's face tightened for a split second, then softened into a fuzzy warmth. She must've found our old mix-ups ridiculous too.
"I'll never forget. I know Master loves me even more than I love you. Don't worry about me—just enjoy the new girl."
Hearing a woman I'd been intimate with urge me to "enjoy the new girl" just hammered home what a piece of trash I was. It stung.
"Master brother~ Let's play! Playtime!"
Mikoto's call made me hesitate, but Yukiko shooed me off with a nod.
I ran to her, but couldn't stop glancing back at Yukiko.
Mikoto, surprisingly, was in the living room. She'd fired up the TV and dug out the stationary console from a drawer—one I hardly ever touched—along with two controllers, fiddling with the game modes.
Her short shorts and thin white tee were just casual loungewear, but those ridiculously oversized breasts turned it into something scandalously erotic. I'd never noticed under her skirt, but those thighs peeking from the shorts? Mikoto's body had some seriously unrealistic curves.
"Let's play this! I dubbed it too, y'know!"
The game Mikoto fired up was a fighter. A short-haired blonde brawler who looked just like her struck a pose, fists raised.
"Ha! Hiyot! Rising kick! If you're too rough, you might get hated~!"
In single-player dummy mode, Mikoto mimicked the character's battle lines perfectly, making it feel like the fighter was trash-talking in surround sound.
"How's that? Mikoto's amazing at this, right? Even if I'm bad at the game itself, I'm super confident in the character I voiced! Come at me!"
We jumped into versus mode. I grabbed a controller at random and mashed buttons. Picking a plain-looking guy character triggered some "protagonist-esque battle cry," and he leaped into the ring.
I barely played console games—fighters especially—so I had to dredge up memories of hunkering over those tiny arcade cabinets outside stationery stores as a kid.
"But hey, Mikoto... shouldn't we add some penalties or something? This feels kinda boring as is."
"Getting cocky much, Master brother? You look like you've barely touched this game. I won't comfort you if you cry after I crush you!"
I chuckled dryly and hit start. Honestly, watching Mikoto's face was more fun than the screen. That pure, childlike focus as she poured everything into one match—it pulled me right back to innocence.
"N-No way! This is rigged! Unfair!"
And seeing that face twist in rage? Pure adult delight. I knew I shouldn't get hooked on it, but her expressions were too dramatic, too hilarious to resist.
"Y-Your punches! Way too fast!"
"Just normals? Low damage though?"
"That's what makes it madder! Feels like dying from forty hits instead of twenty! How do my attacks all whiff while yours land every time? Boo..."
Her puffed-up cheeks were too much—I laughed without thinking.
"No fair! My hits all get blocked?"
"Less skill... more the physical enhancement procedure, y'know? Lets me see and block most basic stuff."
Not pro-level, but I could handle a "voice actress who loves her character so much she memorized every move perfectly."
"Plus, you're dying to recite the lines, right? Makes you telegraph big moves. Easy to spot."
"Wha—cheat! Handicap! Gimme a handicap!"
"Or what?"
I'd teased on impulse, but Mikoto immediately flung herself into my arms, full aegyo mode.
"Master brother... Mi-chan can't win 'cause you're too good at games and so handsome. No way I'd beat you fair."
The soft press of her breasts against my chest caught me off guard. Felt like her nipples were brushing right through— I tried shoving her off in a panic, but held back, scared I'd hurt her.
"I surrender... I'll surrender to you every time, so... go easy? Just a little?"
Any longer and my growing hard-on would poke her, so I just nodded.
"Hehe, mission accomplished! No more punches from you, then!"
Mikoto flashed a devilish grin and dove into the next round—but still couldn't chip my health bar.
"Wh-what?! That one! Crouching kick! How's it that fast?!"
A few more rounds and extra aegyo later—banning crouch kicks, no hit-and-block time wins, etc.—she finally snagged a miraculous victory.
"Yes! I won! So you'll grant my wish now, right? Bro~?"
"Did we agree to that?"
"C'mon, it's implied! With a cute lil sis like me around, you'd grant wishes even without a game, duh?"
"Well, couldn't hurt. What do you want, Mikoto?"
Mikoto dramatically pressed a finger to her lips in a "shh" pose, then hit start on the next match.
"Gonna play a few more first, then tell ya. Triple the wishes and cash 'em all at once!"
She geared up excitedly—then froze, face hardening.
"S-Sorry, bro—gotta bounce!"
"Huh? What's up?"
Following her gaze, I saw Yukiko passing by.
"No need to mind me, Miss Mikoto. Serving Master is your duty, and you're doing splendidly."
But from Mikoto's view, seeing Yukiko dart around with cleaning tools probably made lounging in the living room feel wrong. I was slacking too... but looking back on life with Yukiko, offering to help was always counterproductive. She'd redo anything less than spotless or shift chores to when I was asleep.
"That was fun, Mikoto. Don't push yourself, Yukiko."
I started packing up the console to head to my room, but Mikoto yelped and shoved me inside first.
I gave a wry smile and flopped onto my bed.