The door opened onto a hallway shaped like a upside-down T.
To my left was a door labeled Korai. Farther down, another read Usumi—the name felt familiar somehow, like I'd heard it before, but not enough to place it.
To the right, two more doors bore the names Juno and Juna; it seemed obvious which belonged to the boy and which to the girl—unless whoever named them had a twisted sense of irony.
Not that it mattered. This wasn't the time to be overthinking names.
I turned away and headed for the staircase ahead. The worn wooden steps creaked softly under my weight as I began to descend, each one echoing faintly in the quiet.
As I eased down, a faint, familiar hum drifted up from below—hummm… hmm-hmm… mmmh…—soft, warm, unmistakably Sakura's.
Near the bottom, my hand brushed the railing, and a loose floorboard squeaked sharply. The stairs emptied into a modest living room, quiet and dimly lit.
Through an open doorway, I caught sight of what I assumed was the kitchen—marble gleaming along the countertop under the low light.
Then—without warning—something shot out and clamped onto my arm, dragging me in the wrong direction before I could react.
"Sakura!" it barked.
It was that girl from the adult club! What did I call her again… Ammo Tits? She was lying on a black couch, half-asleep, hair messy, voice sharp and lazy at the same time.
"Get your fuckin' ass outta my face with all that damn humming!" she snapped, barely opening her eyes, but I could tell—she was absolutely certain I was Sakura. Our pink hair looked almost identical: not the same style, not the same shade, but close enough for her to make the mistake.
"W—wait, I'm not—" Before I could even finish, she shoved me roughly aside.
"Oh, save it, brat! Go take yur' needy crap somewhere else."
Then, with a long, lazy groan, she collapsed back onto the couch, muttering to herself, with a slow, wicked grin spreading across her face as if she were melting back into a dream she never wanted to leave.
"Ugh, Usumi, you dumb big bastard! You know I ain't got rent money, so what the fuck, huh?!" she snorted, voice sharp. "Pfft—who cares! I'll pay you back with my body. Deal with it, you stubborn fuckin' mutt."
I froze, my ears burning as every word hit me like a punch. What the hell is she even saying…?
She rambled on, loud and shameless, sinking deeper into some bizarre, very personal fantasy, completely oblivious to how mortifying it was for anyone listening.
"Still actin' all high and mighty, eh?!" she scoffed, her voice lazy but cutting. "Like you haven't been jerkin' yourself raw over this the whole damn time…" She draped herself over the arm of the sofa, one knee bent, the other stretching out, laughing light and reckless, like the world didn't dare tell her to stop.
There was no hint of shame in her voice—just brazen confidence and a daring edge that drew my eyes to her, tracing the way she shifted and stretched without a care.
Her frame was tall—at least compared to my height—but petite from the perspective of my original body.
She was toned, too; if you looked closely, you could just make out the faint outline of four packs along her stomach beneath the soft curve of her chest, which was anything but small.
Her full, heavy chest strained against a bra that had completely slipped off her shoulders, held in place only by the sheer fullness of her breasts.
Below that, she wore some kind of black underwear—thin, delicate, and stringy. Even when I told myself to look away, my eyes kept snapping back, drawn to how little it actually covered.
For a moment, I nearly forgot what I was supposed to be doing, until Sakura poked her head out from a room to the left, tilting it with a bright, curious smile.
"Ponchan! Hey, there you are! I was starting to think you got lost or something, heh! I've been waiting—look, I already got the eggs cracked!"
"O-oo… o-okay… I'm c-coming," I stammered, forcing my eyes away from Ammo Tits as I awkwardly shuffled toward Sakura, trying—and failing—to clear my head.
The moment I stepped into the kitchen, I hesitated for a second. It was small… yet somehow spacious at the same time. An island dominated the center, taking up most of the floor, but the open layout kept it from feeling cramped.
Sakura was already there, sleeves pushed up, forearms sunk deep into a bowl of bright yellow yolk. She mixed in slow, careful circles, her movements steady and practiced.
Unlike what I had expected, she actually seemed like she knew what she was doing.
"Ponchan, can you grab the salt? It's on the counter there." She pointed with the big whisk she was using to mix.
"Sure," I said, trying to sound casual as I reached for it.
But… was that really all I was good for? I wasn't some master chef, sure—but I at least knew how to make eggs—
"Huh?" My fingers stopped several tragic inches short.
I stretched higher, rising onto my toes until they ached. My shoulder gave a faint pop as I strained, arm trembling with the effort. I even tilted my head to the side, as if angling my entire body might somehow grant me that last desperate bit of length.
Still nothing.
"Just a little more—" I muttered stubbornly.
The gap between my fingertips and the salt might as well have been a mile.
"G-got… go—gggerr…" I hopped again, arms windmilling wildly. As salt loomed above me like a cruel white monument.
"C'mon… come heeere," I whispered to it, like an idiot hoping it might take pity on me and roll over on its own. But that wasn't going to happen.
And even if it somehow listened and tipped, those stupid rigid little edges would just catch on the counter and stop it from going anywhere, leaving us both victims—stuck and useless.
Behind me, the steady rhythm of whisking slowed.
"…Do you need help?" Sakura asked.
"N—No!" I blurted instantly, cheeks flaring hot as I whipped around and scanned the kitchen in mounting panic. There had to be something—anything. A stool, a chair, a strategically placed appliance I could climb without completely destroying what little dignity I had left.
Before I could come up with something, Sakura quietly set the bowl down, walked over without a word, reached up, and plucked the salt from the counter with effortless ease.
Then—without making a big deal out of it—she crouched slightly, a small smile playing on her lips.
"Ah—sorry. It's kinda high, huh?" she said softly. "I told you to grab it without thinking… I totally forgot how tiny you are."
Eeeheeeeeeeeee! My brain short-circuited. My legs went weak. Arms stiff at my sides. Fingers curling in on themselves.
How did it come to this? Me—of all people—failing to grab the stupid little salt shaker?!
Sakura stood there—calm, composed, unfairly graceful—holding the shaker with effortless ease. In reality, she wasn't doing anything dramatic. She wasn't flaunting it. She wasn't even looking particularly triumphant.
But in my panicked, spiraling mind?
She may as well have been standing on a podium, arm raised high, the salt glinting like a polished trophy beneath imaginary stage lights, mocking my pathetic, attempt at the simplest, most basic task known to mankind.
And yet— she didn't laugh. Didn't tease. Not a hint. She just smiled… warm, like a sunbeam that somehow made my humiliation even worse.
"Ahh, honestly… you're just wayyy too cute, Ponchan!" she said, her grin stretching impossibly wide. "Eventually you'll get taller—like me!"
She was still crouching to meet my height, hands resting lightly on her knees, eyes shining with unfiltered delight. her voice bright and cheerful, like my catastrophic defeat at the hands of a salt shaker hadn't even registered as a failure. Like it had never been a failure to begin with.
She was looking at me as if I'd done something precious.
As if this—me flailing, reaching, nearly climbing the counter like some desperate gremlin—was the most adorable sight she'd ever witnessed.
"Y-yeah," I mumbled, trying to act like everything was fine… while my brain screamed internally like a tornado. "Anyways… let's get to actually cooking," I added, desperately trying to reclaim some shred of dignity as I picked up the mixer.
GOSHDARN IT—WHAT THE HECK IS THIS?! Why does this thing feel like it was made of solid steel?!
My arms trembled violently, quivering like overcooked noodles, wobbling under the impossible weight
"Ponchan… wait, be careful! That thing's really heavy—even for me… I—I don't want you to hurt yourself! Please… let me—"
I shot her a quick sideways glance. "I got it!"
The words came out sharper than I intended, trying to protect my pride.
I drew in a slow, steady breath, straightened my back, and adjusted my grip—lifting it properly this time—even as my arms continued to scream in protest.
The pan waited on the stove like it was judging me.
Tilting the bowl took way more strength than it had any right to. The eggs slid out in a smooth, golden stream, pooling neatly in the pan. For a fleeting, glorious second, I let myself think I'd actually done it right… Until a thin ribbon of egg slipped over the rim behind, it creeping down the side of the bowl before dripping onto the burner with a soft, humiliating sizzle.
…Crap.
I started stirring them together, trying to focus on something—anything—other than how useless I felt right now. My head refused to cooperate. It drifted like a clumsy boat, eventually crashing into a question I'd been too nervous to ask.
"So… this Usumi guy," I muttered, my voice small and a little awkward, "um… who is he?" I forced a laugh, hoping it sounded casual, but it didn't.
Her eyes, which had been looking away—probably because I had refused her help—suddenly widened.
"S-Sumi-senpai! He… he saved you! He told me that he found you sleeping somewhere, all alone!" she said, her voice bright and quick.
"He said you were in really bad con—con-di— um… condis… condi—" She scrunched her face up in concentration. "Condition! That! He said you were in really bad condition! I don't really know what that means, but he looked serious when he said it!"
"And he told me you kept fighting him in your sleep! Like—pow! Pow!—" she mimed little punches. "But he didn't even get mad! He just stayed there the whole time! He didn't leave you until you finally relaxed. Not even once!"
She clasped her hands together, bouncing on her toes, eyes shining. "He's really, really nice… right? Isn't he just the best ever?!"
The best ever? Yah, right, I thought, stomach twisting.
Does he know what I really am? Did he want to use me for the purpose this body was made for? And if that was what he wanted… then why would he let me wander around freely?
Why leave me alone with Sakura? She seemed completely innocent — unaware of anything twisted or ulterior. If he had some hidden motive, wouldn't he keep me closer? Watch me more carefully? Control the situation? Unless… he didn't need to.
The thought made my stomach tighten.
Or maybe I was overthinking it. Maybe he really had just seen a tiny girl in trouble and decided to help —just like she said. I didn't know why it felt impossible to believe, but I still wasn't sure about a lot of things anymore…
"He sounds… too good to be true," I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper.
She leaned in, eyes practically twinkling.
"He really is true, Ponchan! Even if he can't spend tons of time with me like I wish, I just know he genuinely cares about us! He's always working so hard, taking care of everything… He barely has any time to just relax… but he's seriously the sweetest man ever!"
I blinked, memories surfacing of how I used to handle things back at home—working, supporting a family, keeping everyone afloat. My sister had talked about me like this too—not quite as bright and loud as Sakura, but she definitely noticed my efforts.
"If it's true, then it must have been tough on him… huh?" I said, relating a little.
"I dunno… but he makes it look so easy! He's crazy strong— he fended off a whole pack of… um, wolves or something like it was nothing! And get this—he said they tried to go after you too, but he totally taught them a lesson they'll never forget!"
Wolves? I wasn't entirely sure if she meant actual animals—or some kind of codename for something he hadn't told her about.
That's kinda where I stopped making connections between us and started wondering more about this usumi person…He did all that… for me… and he didn't even know me.
Just thinking about how careful and capable he seemed—how much he had done quietly, without me even realizing it—left me even more starstruck than I already was. Maybe… just maybe I should… ask him…?
I was still turned away when I began hesitantly, "Sakura… do you think… I could… get Sumi-senpai to help me find my family?"
I fumbled with the eggs as a brief silence settled in—but to me, in that moment, it stretched on forever.
My throat tightened.
"I—I mean, forget it," I rushed out quickly, the words tripping over themselves as I tried to pull them back. "You don't have to tell him. I wasn't serious. It's fine. I can handle it myself."
I forced a weak laugh, looking over my shoulder. "I shouldn't dump something like that on him. He's already done enough. Just—just pretend I didn't say anything, okay?"
She stood there, smiling warmly. And when she spoke, it hit me like a sudden beam of light cutting through darkness: "Don't worry! If anyone can help you, it's Sumi-senpai!"
The certainty in her voice left no room for doubt—like she wasn't just hoping it was true, but absolutely knew it was.
"Huh? R-really?" I hitched my voice cracking under the weight of disbelief and longing.
The spatula traced slow, uneven circles through the soft, slippery eggs, my grip loose and uncertain—like even my hands didn't know how they were supposed to act right now.
"You… you really mean it, he would really help me?"
Tears threatened to spill over, blurring my vision further, and I frantically wiped at my face, desperate to hide the raw vulnerability that clawed its way out of me.
"Ponchan…?" Sakura tilted her head, noticing my eyes watering.
"I-It's nothing!" I blurted, turning away in a fluster, one hand desperately wiping at my tears while the other awkwardly moved the lumps of egg.
Then, suddenly, Sakura's arms wrapped around me.
"I really do mean it… Ponchan…" she whispered, her voice soft, almost trembling, yet steady enough to anchor me.
The unexpected embrace stunned me, and for a heartbeat, all the tension in my chest seemed to dissolve.
A wave of warmth and reassurance washed over me, and for a moment, I let myself imagine that maybe… just maybe… I wasn't completely alone in this. I didn't have to carry it all by myself.
My hands, still hovering over the pan, shook slightly, The storm of relief and emotion inside me raged on, impossible to fully control.
Part of me wanted to collapse, to let the tears come freely, to lean entirely into the comfort she offered. But the other part—the stubborn, "big brother" part—insisted I stay composed, to hold it in.
"H-Here—the eggs are finished!" I blurted out, my voice catching a little, betraying just how close I'd come to breaking.
"Oh, it's my turn! My turn!" Sakura sprang on her feet, bouncing up and down with excitement as she geared herself up for the next half of the bowl.