Peter Pan - 5
Even after listening calmly to Mikoto's words, I still couldn't grasp the outline of the problem. It was so far beyond my common sense that my brain might have simply refused to comprehend it.
"No, wait—so this crazy sexual harasser on the production committee is raping aspiring voice actresses?"
"Yeah... I refused and got kicked out, but some people sacrifice their virginity to keep working. The industry was already small, and after the war, it got even narrower... Those who refuse can't find work anywhere else."
I'd heard plenty about celebrities doing pillow business to survive, but hearing it from this tiny girl's mouth made the gravity hit harder.
"There were always voice actresses sleeping with superiors for good roles before, but no one was as blatant as him—screaming that you'd lose your job unless you offered your virginity... I'm an outsider now, but my juniors still want to keep voicing. For their sake, please—protect them!"
Mikoto's dogeza on the bed was pitiful, but my mind was swirling with too many stray thoughts to offer pure sympathy. The massive volume of her breasts resting on my lap kept drawing my eyes was a minor issue, the smallest among countless problems.
"But could I really solve it if I went? I'm just a regular guy—this is for the local police, right?"
"The cops are all in on it! We've tried so many times, but unless you bribe them massively, they won't even pretend to listen!"
Men wield romantic power in Japan too, no doubt. With endless women willing to play just for the asking, why target voice actresses? Well, it wasn't about the women themselves—it was intoxication with power. Like Korean men who could pick and choose beauties, accept lavish gifts, yet spend their own money chasing foreign slaves. Drunk on the strength power gives. Unwilling to let go of that sense of holding life and death over others, controlling emotions and efforts at will.
Talking it out turned into spitting while lying down, but it wasn't impossible. I'd heard Japan's public safety had worsened a lot. I knew the term "sex crime" itself felt outdated and awkward these days. But police burying formal reports was hard to fathom.
"So, what do you want me to do, Mikoto?"
"Th-there's this simple document? It makes me your proxy or something—if you just sign it, I can go to Japan and handle it!"
The conversation took a serious turn. Mikoto's face was dead earnest. Her aegyo was the same as ever, but every gesture felt more desperate, more urgent.
"Sure? Want me to do it now?"
She lit up at my words, thrilled despite a hint of regret. She couldn't hide her excitement, bubbling with joy.
"Th-thank you, oppa! B-but I might not have it ready... I didn't think you'd agree so easily!"
"No big deal. I was gonna think it over anyway, but if there's no issue, I'll sign."
I smiled warmly, and she threw her arms around me tight. The soft swell of her breasts felt plush and dreamy. So petite, she fit perfectly in my embrace.
"I-I was so worried, really worried..."
Mikoto sniffled, clinging with her slender arms. I gently stroked her back, comforting her.
"It's okay. It'll all work out."
Pity welled up. I knew Mikoto was an adult, responsible for her choices. No reason or obligation for me to meddle in everything. Ultimately, she'd choose—and bear the consequences. Still, I hated the word "responsibility." I didn't want to shoulder any of it. I wished Mikoto didn't have to either.
/////
"From the start, I never believed Mikoto truly served Master with sincerity."
Yukiko immediately dismissed her coldly after I relayed the story.
"I knew this would happen eventually. One who truly serves Master must exude respect, devotion, and love in every word, every action."
I glanced nervously at the door, half-fearing Mikoto might be awake. No sign of presence, thankfully.
"I held no expectations for a lazy girl chasing only her own gains."
"Th-that's all fine, but Yukiko, your standards are too high. Expecting devotion and love from someone bought with money—isn't that greed itself?"
"Yet Master bought us with money and still gives love, does he not? I love Master with all my heart."
She was right. My first slave being this capable, this devoted—it far exceeded expectations. Though it bred misunderstandings too.
"I'm not saying she must do what I do, just show minimal sincerity."
"I don't think people need to live in constant devotion and perfection. Compromise has its place."
Mikoto had her own life, goals unrelated to me. The war, or me—foreign elements intruding on her complete world. Demanding loyalty to a company with ownership felt foolish; same for slaves empathizing with or acting for their master.
"So, what do you think of her request?"
"Of course I oppose it. Though Master seems even more wary than I."
"Huh? I figured you'd be dead set against it—calling me too soft or risky..."
"Master."
Yukiko, standing, looked down at me on the bed.
"Your eyes aren't smiling. Your mouth shows worry, amusement, or confusion, but your eyes remain coldly frozen—unnatural."
I closed my eyes.
"Never thought you'd call my expression cold... Anyway, purely your opinion—what do you think?"
"If you ask my will, I oppose, naturally. A conqueror's male command holds near-legal psychological force over the conquered."
"That's my biggest worry."
"She likely begged to be a slave aiming for proxy status from the start. There could be backers, or her entire story fabricated."
The scale ballooned, dark thoughts creeping in.
"Let's assume the best case. Everything Mikoto said is true—no lies. A real rapist in voice acting, corrupt local cops, and she wants to stop it."
"Unrealistic, but even if true, it's outrageous. She doesn't even hide using Master."
"That might actually be fine..."
I pondered repeatedly, pruning negative fantasies consciously.
"If true, she quit voicing because of him. Tried police, failed. Not just leaking the issue—she prepared to ask me, with a solution ready."
"You've already decided."
"Yeah. I want to help."
I didn't know the end, but burying it and living with Mikoto—no.
"Truly, you're kind and lenient to all. You burst laughing at her baffling words every time. I can't grasp what you sense in that 'tsundere' of hers."
"It's not just that... Saying it might make me sound weird."
"No answer will make me despise you."
I hadn't spent ages with Yukiko, yet I trusted her words implicitly—whatever she did was for me. Unknowingly, I relaxed around her.
"W-well, Mikoto's desperate in her own way, different from you—it's, I shouldn't laugh, but so awkward and funny, gives this weird thrill of taboo, makes me laugh more..."
Yukiko's face froze, as always. Her default expression, but self-conscious, it felt icier.
"I can't comprehend even half. How twisted your lust runs, I can't fathom. Nor where the taboo thrill even comes from."
"It's not lust—it's a comedy bit. Humor is subjective."
Yukiko approached slowly, sitting beside me on the bed. Routine, yet never routine—heart racing, erection stirring each time.
"If your desires are twisted, shouldn't they be corrected? To proper, normal lust—men ravishing women, women pleasured by men."
Skillfully, she slid down my pants. Pre-fluid Yukiko, wielding countless techniques freely, was the night's empress. As she served, I slowly felt with my body how deeply she loved and devoted to me.