Imperial Palace – Gathering Hall
2:00 P.M.
Third POV
The atmosphere in the hall shifted the moment Nagae Kouya stepped forward—like a gust of cold wind through a room that had been warm only moments before. Every head turned toward the elderly man, and the tension that had only lingered beneath the surface suddenly crystalized into something sharper.
Kouya's presence alone grated on the rest of the Celestial Families; his reputation preceded him, and none were pleased to see him standing here, least of all Riku.
Emperor Naruhito, composed and regal atop the raised platform, leaned forward slightly, resting an elbow on the arm of his throne. He studied Kouya with a tired sort of patience. "Very well," he said, voice carrying easily through the hall. "I'll hear you out."
That was all Kouya needed to seize his moment.
"Your Majesty," Kouya declared, tone thick with authority he did not possess, "the boy is already nineteen years of age—twenty by this coming spring. He is expected to lead the Nagae Family. Yet all he does is waste time on music nonsense with those foreign riffraff."
His words cut through the hall like a blade. Riku's fists tightened at his sides. A twitch of lightning sparked over his knuckles before fading.
Okina narrowed her eyes immediately. "You speak without understanding," she countered sharply. "Riku didn't 'play' with anyone. Those you insult are world-class musicians, and young Riku has built bridges for Japan that you never could."
Yuyuko tapped her closed fan on her palm gently, though her gaze was cold. "Quite so. Do you think our sudden connections in the Middle East materialized from thin air? It was Riku-kun's work."
But Kouya wasn't listening; as he doubled down. "He may bring foreign merit, but none of that matters. He dishonors the bloodline by mingling with mortals."
This time Riku's temper snapped. His voice thundered through the hall. "Say anything about my brothers again—one more time—and I'll beat you so badly that I'll be sending you to god by same day delivery!"
Aichi actually flinched. Kaguya silently inched back half a step.
Kouya merely scoffed. "Brothers? You call those mortals 'brothers'?" His contempt was palpable. "How far you have fallen."
A crack of electricity jumped from Riku's shoulder, his aura turning volatile. Before he could move, Yukari laid a hand on his shoulder, her expression firm. "Control yourself, boy." she murmured.
Okina matched that with a measured look. "Emotion clouds judgment. Do not give him the satisfaction."
Riku drew in a breath, shaky but deliberate. The sparks died down, though the anger lingered in his eyes.
Kyoya stepped forward next, voice even. "Kouya. I expected you to speak of Mafuyu's legitimacy rather than attack Riku."
Kouya's glare shifted instantly. "I'll address that empty shell of a half-breed in due time."
A flicker of fear crossed Mafuyu's face. For the first time since she had dropped her emotional mask earlier, she shrank behind Kyoya, clutching the fabric of his sleeve. Kyoya's jaw tightened, and a quiet storm brewed behind his eyes.
"Moving on," Kouya continued without an ounce of remorse, "The boy remains unbetrothed. An heir must have an appropriate match. Therefore, I have selected the suitable candidate. He will accept my choice, or he will step down as the next head."
Disbelief rippled through the hall. Riku's glare turned icy. Reimu pinched the bridge of her nose. Kasen shook her head in disgust. Even Eirin, normally calm, muttered something under her breath.
"You needn't trouble yourself," Yuyuko interjected, as her voice was deceptively sweet. "Riku-kun is already engaged."
Kouya froze. "Is he now? And who, pray tell, is this chosen woman?"
Emperor Naruhito made a silent motion as if to intercede, but Riku raised a hand gently. "My apologies, Your Majesty. Let me handle this."
Naruhito nodded once, allowing the young man to proceed.
Riku turned to Yukari. "Please bring them."
Yukari wordlessly opened a gap, the shimmering portal swallowing her silhouette. In an instant she disappeared.
Before anything else could be said, Okina began to move. She shifted the wheelchair, her eyes fixed on the large doors at the far end. "I will summon the media," she announced. "This matter must be seen by the world."
Kouya's eyes widened with fury. "Your Majesty—this is unacceptable! Exposing ourselves was one thing. But this—this goes too far!"
Naruhito's glare darkened, and the air itself grew heavy. Even without raising his voice, power seeped out from him like an immense wave of pressure.
"You dare question my command?"
The command in his tone forced Kouya down to one knee, his body shaking as though under a crushing weight. He struggled to breathe.
"N-No, Your Majesty," Kouya choked.
Naruhito's gaze lingered a moment longer before he exhaled and allowed the pressure to dissipate.
Yukari's gap opened again, and five figures stepped through.
Rinko, Miyu, Eli, Rei and Rongrong.
They walked in calmly, though their presence alone drew dozens of stunned looks from the returning media. Yukari guided them gently toward Riku.
"Stay with him," she advised them quietly.
The massive doors opened a heartbeat later. The reporters, who had been ushered back in by Okina, spilled in with hurried steps, cameras raised, microphones pointed. The energy in the hall spiked sharply—anticipation mixed with confusion and anxiety.
Mio Takamatsu, the lead reporter from TV Tokyo, stepped forward first. "Your Majesty," she called, "we returned as instructed. What is happening? Why the urgency?"
Naruhito rose from his seat. The cameras followed his motion, lenses clicking, shutters snapping. Every reporter on site prepared themselves instinctively, sensing that whatever came next would shake the foundations of the world as they knew it.
"What we will discuss," Naruhito began, voice echoing through the chamber, "must be heard by every citizen of Japan. And it must be documented truthfully. This concerns not magic nor the youkai—it concerns our nation's future."
A collective hush settled over the room. The reporters braced themselves, drawing closer. Even the faint hum of the palace's ventilation seemed to fade.
Kouya, still kneeling, clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles whitened. The presence of the media shattered whatever strategy he intended to use. He shot Riku a venomous glare, but Riku met it with an icy, unwavering stare.
The young heir stepped forward then, projecting a calm he had fought hard to maintain. His fiancées aligned behind him—Rinko, elegant and poised; Eli, determined and unyielding; Miyu, gentle yet resolute; Rei, composed despite her usual quiet; and Rongrong, dignified as ever.
Kouya's eyes flicked between them in disbelief. "You expect me to believe—"
"You will remain silent," Naruhito commanded.
It wasn't loud. It didn't need to be.
Kouya's jaw snapped shut instantly.
Now every camera in the room was fixed on Riku.
The weight of legacy, responsibility, family honor—everything rested squarely upon his shoulders. And for the first time since Kouya barged into the hall, Riku looked every inch the heir he was meant to be.
The reporters leaned in, mics trembling in their hands.
Riku inhaled slowly and met their gaze without hesitation.
The moment had arrived.
And the truth—painful, heavy, and long hidden—was about to be brought into the light.
The reporters had barely settled into their seats again when Emperor Naruhito's voice cut through the ambient murmurs—calm in tone, yet carrying a gravity that commanded attention.
"Before we begin, Okina. Show them that."
His words held the heft of inevitability. Okina inclined her head, opened a small blue door beside her, and a compact projector slid out as if guided by unseen hands. Murmurs rippled through the hall—the international guests watching with curiosity, the Japanese press with unease.
"This is the reason I summoned you all back," Naruhito continued. "What we will discuss is not a foreign matter. It concerns Japan—our future."
Okina maneuvered her wheelchair to the forefront, her expression the sort one wore before delivering bad news that could not be softened. With a flick of her finger, the projector illuminated the wall with a cascade of graphs, charts, and timeline markers.
"As you see before you, this is a comprehensive record of Japan's development across multiple sectors: infrastructure, medicine, education, energy... and population," Okina explained.
Her tone was matter-of-fact, but the weight behind every syllable pressed down on the room.
One of the reporters raised a hesitant hand. "Okina-sama, aren't these statistics highly confidential?"
Okina smiled faintly—thin, humorless. "Yes. They are. But truth belongs to the people, not to dusty vaults. Besides, many of you are unaware that every Prime Minister, every high-ranking official, and numerous global leaders are fully aware of our existence. Every major law the government proposes passes through us. Every single one."
Gasps fluttered through the hall like startled birds. Cameras whirred to keep up with every revelation.
"And you might have noticed," Yukari added with her own elegant menace, "that several laws in recent decades favored citizens over those who sit at the top." Her golden eyes gleamed sharply. "Corruption is... unsightly. So we prune it. Slowly, but surely."
Her voice alone sent a collective shudder down the press row. Even Kouya, who only moments ago had been posturing with arrogance, looked uncomfortable.
Okina tapped the next chart, drawing attention back to the luminous graph. "Now, I trust all of you have noticed the anomaly in the population statistics."
Reporters leaned forward. Viewers across the country stared at their screens. The more they examined the line on the graph, the more their hearts sank.
The graph curved downward—slowly at first, and then sharply in the last fifteen years.
"Japan's population is steadily dwindling," Okina announced, blunt and unforgiving.
Her words echoed like a guillotine dropping.
Silence. No one dared breathe. This was the nightmare no government had wanted to acknowledge publicly.
"When... when did this begin?" a reporter managed, voice trembling.
Okina shook her head. "I cannot pinpoint the precise moment. The decline is rooted deep within modern society itself."
The hall seemed to hold its breath as she continued.
"Our culture fosters loyalty to work to the point of self-destruction. Family life is sacrificed for corporate expectations. Living costs—especially in urban centers—continue to rise. Housing? Insufficient and expensive. And nearly forty-five percent of our population consists of the elderly. A nation cannot thrive when nearly half its people can no longer contribute to its growth."
Her words hit the citizens hardest, the ones watching from home. They did not need experts to tell them these truths—they lived them.
Yukari folded her fan. "We have observed this for decades. Tried solutions. Pushed reforms. Rooted out the corrupt. And still, the decline worsened. Projection models indicate Japan's population could fall to sixty million within the next fifty years."
The murmurs that followed were laced with dread.
Riku remained silent beside Rinko and the others, the girls huddled close to him in tension. Rinko tugged lightly on his sleeve.
"R-Riku... are they seriously going to talk about... that? In front of the whole country?" she whispered, face pale.
"Yes," he answered. His voice was low, controlled—nothing like the fury he displayed earlier. "If I don't act, Kouya will force a bride on me. If I refuse, he'll strip me of my inheritance."
Miyu's pink eyes widened. "That's... cruel."
"Just trust me and trust each other," Riku murmured. "We knew this day would come."
His fiancées exchanged anxious glances. Eli met Riku's eyes with a small, resigned nod. "Yeah... being an idol in this situation is going to be complicated."
Riku offered her a faint smile, though tension lined his jaw.
Meanwhile, Okina resumed speaking, her tone now shifting toward something more contemplative.
"Years ago," she said, "we realized traditional approaches would not save this nation. So nine years ago, we constructed a plan—controversial, risky, and likely to be called insane. But sometimes, a sinking ship requires drastic measures."
Reporters leaned in so close their microphones nearly touched the floor.
"We sought the approval of the government," Okina continued. "And His Majesty himself reviewed and authorized it after extensive deliberation."
She inhaled, then spoke the words that froze the world.
"Effective immediately, Japan will legally recognize polygamy."
The hall plunged into silence.
Not just quiet—absolute stillness, as if time itself stalled.
Then—
"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH?!?!"
The scream erupted from the press, echoed by viewers across Japan. A tidal wave of disbelief.
Cameras shook. Reporters scrambled to get reactions. Broadcasters struggled to maintain composure on live television.
Riku did not need superhuman senses to feel Rinko, Miyu, Rongrong, Eli, and Rei stiffen beside him. He heard their hearts pounding.
Point of no return indeed.
Okina raised a hand, and the chaos dimmed to trembling quiet.
"You are shocked," she acknowledged, "and you are justified. But consider the crisis at hand. Our current societal structure has failed to produce stability. Marriage rates have plummeted. Birth rates continue to collapse. Economic stagnation shadows every generation. We cannot cling to traditions that endanger our survival."
Her gaze swept across the room, severe yet sincere.
"This law is not a command—it is an option. A path. A lifeline. Couples who wish to remain monogamous may do so. Those who choose otherwise may build families that reflect their needs. We do not force—only permit."
The words did little to calm the room.
----------
The roar of disbelief had eventually thinned into a tense, uneasy hush. Reporters wiped sweat from their brows, cameras steadied, and the air settled just enough for the next volley of truth.
A female reporter from NHK stood, gripping her mic tightly. Her voice trembled with a mix of dread and responsibility. "Okina-sama... may I ask something crucial? Does this new law apply to all men? Regardless of age?"
Okina nodded slowly. "No. Only men born in the year 2000 or later. And to ensure fairness, we have established a set of rules to regulate this system."
Yuyuko drifted forward with a soft, almost whimsical smile that belied the seriousness of the moment.
"Let me explain these, Okina~."
Reporters braced themselves.
"There are four core rules," Yuyuko said, fanning herself lightly. "The first—both parties must have been in a committed relationship for at least one year, with clear intention towards marriage."
Some of the men in the hall sank a little in their seats. A year-long relationship was no small feat, especially in a country where dating itself had become rare and burdensome.
"The second rule," she continued, "requires the consent of the majority of the woman's family. If he cannot gain their approval, he must step aside."
A ripple of reaction swept through the hall. The emphasis was clear—this system protected the women first.
Yuyuko paused, letting the gravity settle. "You see, these rules are not meant to encourage chaos. They prevent manipulation and coercion."
Reporters scribbled frantically, hands shaking. The entire country could sense the paradigm shift underway.
Now came the third rule, and even Yuyuko's teasing tone softened. "In a polygamous marriage... favoritism is forbidden. Each woman must be treated equally, and the man must not place one above another. This balance applies to every member of the relationship, including the women themselves."
The hall grew thoughtful. As bizarre as the system sounded, it was structured—an attempt at harmony in an inherently complicated situation.
But then Yuyuko dropped the fourth rule, and Japan exploded all over again.
"And lastly," she chimed, "any man wishing to enter a polygamous relationship must have a net worth of at least one hundred million."
The collective scream shook the walls.
"O-ONE HUNDRED MILLION!?"
Cameras wobbled. A few reporters nearly lost their footing.
A British journalist raised a hand, stammering. "L-Lady Yuyuko—do you mean one hundred million... in yen?"
Yuyuko closed her fan with a snap. "Middle-class citizens will follow the requirement in yen. But men from high-class families... must present their net worth in US dollars."
Dead silence.
Then—chaos again. Reporters clutched at their hair, stunned into incoherence. Even the international press looked aghast.
Before the room could fully recover, Kaguya stepped forward, her expression a mixture of amusement and confident mischief.
"Why such an amount? Simple," she said, voice dripping with aristocratic cool. "Handling multiple wives isn't a free ride. A man should be financially capable of supporting a large family. And earning that amount requires discipline and work—exactly what this country needs."
Kaguya almost laughed remembering her own reaction. "When I first read this proposal, I laughed myself breathless for five hours. I pictured hundreds of men crying at the idea. But once I understood the logic, it became clear. Men striving, women supporting, households thriving. It boosts morale and the economy."
Her words painted an image so surreal that half the reporters found themselves involuntarily imagining it—Japan's workforce revitalized through sheer desperation to meet financial criteria, and supportive wives waiting at home instead of enduring corporate burnout.
Yuyuko clasped her hands. "We presented this plan to the government, and His Majesty reviewed it in full detail. Upon verifying its long-term viability and societal benefits, approval was granted. Effective immediately after today's gathering."
A chorus of scratching pens resumed. The atmosphere shifted from shock to frantic documentation.
Okina rolled her wheelchair forward with a smirk. "And to validate this plan, we selected a test subject."
Every head snapped in the same direction.
The Celestial Family heads turned, almost enjoyably dramatic, toward one person.
Riku.
The three-time TI Champion sighed in resignation, his professionalism the only thing keeping him from burying his face in his hands.
"Yes," he said, tone crisp and formal despite the frustration simmering underneath. "I am the designated test subject or guinea pig as they like to call me. And behind me stand my fiancées. Shirokane Rinko, Sakurada Miyu, Ayase Eli, Wakana Rei and Ning Rongrong."
He motioned with steady composure: Rinko, Miyu, Eli, Rei, and Rongrong stepped forward, each nervous but resolute.
The press erupted like a volcano.
Cameras flashed in a barrage of light. Microphones surged toward them. Questions overlapped into an unintelligible storm.
Riku's internal suffering was nearly visible—though he kept a straight face for the cameras, the battle raging in his mind was another story.
Inside the Dragon Palace, Tenshi rolled on the tatami floor, laughing so hard she could barely breathe.
"THIS IS TOO GOOD! You're dying, Riku! Look at their faces! HAHAHA—"
Albion roared with laughter outside, wings shaking.
[Partner, truly, you have achieved suffering by success!]
Iku sat serenely on the tatami mat, sipping tea with the calm of a woman watching a disaster unfold from a safe distance.
"Well... you did say you could handle anything, Riku. This is 'anything.'"
Riku resisted the urge to scream.
Tenshi continued wheezing, tears streaming down her cheeks.
"HAHA—better start selling albums or something!"
Riku subtly gritted his teeth, maintaining a flawless professional smile as cameras captured every angle. "Please shut up," he muttered internally.
Iku poured himself another cup.
"Too late. The entire nation knows."
That did not help.
The entire country had fallen into a stunned, chaotic buzz. News anchors were scrambling to reword the Celestial Families' announcement, while the internet flooded with disbelief, memes, and arguments. Every TV, smartphone, and billboard lit up with Riku's face—his expression caught between professionalism and pure exhaustion.
Ichigaya Residence – Poppin'Party
Kasumi and the others sat frozen in front of the TV. The live broadcast replayed the moment Riku introduced his fiancées, the captions beneath him reading: "Nagae Heir: Nagae Riku Announces Engagement to Five Women."
Arisa groaned, pressing her fingers against her temples as if she could squeeze the chaos out of her brain.
"Of all things they could've revealed—why that?!"
Rimi gently patted her shoulder, her voice small. "It's okay, Arisa-chan... I think."
Tae leaned forward, unblinking. "Do you think Riku-senpai will be okay? People will start calling him a playboy if this goes on."
Everyone turned to stare at her. Tae blinked innocently. "What? Did I say something wrong?"
Saaya sighed, voice low but laced with worry. "No... it's just—you're right. Things will be hard for Riku-kun if he doesn't clear things up soon."
Kasumi hugged her pillow tight, eyes glued to the screen. "Riku-senpai... please don't let this get worse."
Mitake Residence – Afterglow
Ran muted the TV with a deep sigh. "They really went and did it."
"You think your onii-san's gonna have a hard time now?" Moca asked, balancing a cookie on her nose.
"Look at Rinko though," Tomoe said, leaning back. "I thought she was gonna faint on live television."
"Who's that other pink-haired girl beside them? She's really pretty," Tsugumi wondered aloud.
"Hold up, I'll check." Himari snapped a photo of the screen, ran a quick search, and froze. Her phone nearly slipped out of her hand.
"H-Himari-chan! What happened!?" Tsugumi panicked.
"T-That pink-haired girl... she's a literal celebrity!" Himari yelped.
Ran grabbed the phone and read aloud, eyebrows arching. "Ning Rongrong, heiress of the Seven Glazed Tile Treasure Clan. Renowned painter, actress, and archery master and master swordswoman from China..."
Tomoe's jaw dropped. "What the actual hell..."
Moca whistled. "Oh~ looks like onii-san scored himself a total hottie."
Smack! Ran hit her lightly on the head.
"Ow~ that was uncalled for," Moca whined.
"Quiet," Ran said, but there was the faintest curve of a smirk on her face.
Purely Productions – Pastel*Palettes
The idol agency was dead silent. Every staff member had stopped moving. The girls stood before the TV, eyes wide.
"Five fiancées," Eve murmured in disbelief. "That's... a lot of love. I know that Riku-san told us beforehand..."
"Even I can't tease Riku-kun about this," Hina muttered, arms crossed. "That's saying something."
Aya turned to Chisato, anxiety written all over her face. "Chisato-chan... will Riku-kun be okay after all this?"
Chisato didn't answer right away. Her lips parted slightly, but no sound came out.
"Even Chisato-san doesn't know..." Maya said softly.
"Onii-sama..." was all Chisato could whisper.
The others exchanged uneasy looks. Riku's calm, composed image on the broadcast was one thing—but they all knew how much weight he carried behind that expression.
Imai Residence - Roselia
Rinko's seat was empty, her bandmates glued to the screen. Ako waved her arms defensively. "I swear it wasn't my fault! I just mentioned that Riku-nii might say something crazy, but I didn't think they'd actually—"
Lisa chuckled, pulling Ako into a side hug. "Relax, no one's blaming you, Ako."
Sayo sighed, crossing her arms. "Still, what reason did the Celestial Families have to reveal something that personal?"
Yukina, quiet and focused, spoke up. "Riku-san knew it would come out eventually. Better from him than from someone else."
Lisa nodded. "Yeah. He's taking the hit so the others don't have to."
They all turned toward Rinko's empty chair. Ako bit her lip. "Riku-nii really... puts everyone else before himself, huh?"
Yukina closed her eyes. "That's exactly why this will hurt him most."
Tsurumaki Mansion
Shinzo nearly buried her face in the couch cushion. "Of all the things to happen... this had to go public."
"Shii-kun, are you okay?" Hagumi asked, placing a hand on her shoulder.
"That depends," Shinzo muttered, exhaling. "Oi, Kokoro, you doing alright over there?"
Her twin looked up from her tablet with a beaming smile. "Of course! I know onii-chan can handle this!"
Misaki groaned. "You're seriously too positive sometimes, Kokoro."
Kaoru, lounging elegantly nearby, chuckled softly. "Positivity or not, Kokoro's right. Ani-sama has never faced anything alone. He'll manage."
The twins exchanged a look, unspoken faith passing between them.
Live House CiRCLE – Leo/need
The Leo/need girls stared at the Tablet as if they'd just watched the moon crash into the earth.
Saki leaned over with a sly grin. "Well, well~ looks like Icchan might have a chance with owner-san now~"
"S-Saki?!" Ichika nearly choked, cheeks burning crimson.
Honami giggled behind her hand. "She's not wrong though."
"Et tu, Honami?!" Ichika gasped.
Shiho, deadpan as always, muttered, "Onee-chan might actually have a chance..."
All three girls froze, turning toward her in disbelief. "Shiho?!"
Miku's avatar flickered out of Ichika's phone, observing with a faint smile. "Riku..." she whispered before fading back into the SEKAI.
Black Dragon Corporation – MORE MORE JUMP
The studio was dead quiet except for the broadcast echoing through the speakers. Each girl processed the situation in their own way—Haruka biting her nails, Airi frowning, Minori hugging a pillow tightly, and Shizuku just staring in silence.
Then, out of Shizuku's phone, Miku appeared in her glowing digital form, looking smug. "What did I tell you? I said something was coming."
"You did," Shizuku replied, still dazed. "But this... I didn't expect this."
Haruka sighed, glancing at the screen. "We all thought Riku-san would just stay with Rinko-san. Not... start a harem."
Airi's shoulders slumped. "The press is going to twist this so badly. They'll say the Nagae Family endorsed us because Riku wanted us in his harem."
"Riku-san wouldn't do that!" Minori said suddenly, voice trembling.
Miku crossed her arms. "He wouldn't. But people believe what they want."
Just then, Luka shimmered into existence beside Miku, resting comfortably on Shizuku's shoulder. "Humans skip straight to judgment. They see what fits their story. But Riku... he'll stand firm. He always does."
Haruka blinked. "You really think that highly of him, Luka?"
Luka smiled proudly. "Of course. Riku was the one who designed me, after all."
"Wait—Riku-san created you?!" Airi shouted, jaw dropping.
Luka nodded with a wink. "Who else could balance logic and compassion that well?"
Minami Residence
Kotori adjusted her costume's collar in front of the mirror. She, Umi, and Honoka had been told to wear their new stage outfits—handmade by Alice—their costumes that is meant to be used at their official debut as OG.
Her phone buzzed. A video call. She accepted it instantly.
"Ah, Kotori-chan!" Honoka's cheerful voice filled the screen, makeup still half-done. "You all dressed up yet?"
Kotori smiled softly. "Mm-hmm. Just finished. What about you, Honoka-chan?"
"Almost! Yukiho helped me with the eyeliner!"
Behind her, Umi appeared, looking mildly exasperated but radiant in her own outfit. "You both look perfect. Let's just hope Yukari-san doesn't make us wait too long..."
They all laughed, but Umi's smile quickly faded when the news broadcast caught her attention again.
Kotori noticed. "Umi-chan... do you regret accepting Aichi-kun's feelings?"
Umi froze. "Regret? No." She placed a hand on her chest, expression softening. "I don't regret it at all. When Aichi confessed, I was... genuinely happy. But now, seeing what's happening with Riku... it's hard not to feel the pressure."
Honoka nodded firmly. "Then we'll face it together! Me, you, Kotori-chan, and Aichi-kun—whatever happens, we're a team!"
Kotori's gentle smile returned. "That's right. We'll get through this like we always do."
Umi's tension eased, her voice quiet but steady. "Thank you. I really needed that."
The three girls looked at the screen once more, Riku's image frozen mid-broadcast. His composure, his restraint—it said everything.
Honoka whispered, "He's fighting for all of us, isn't he?"
Umi nodded. "He is…. just like Aichi always says to us."
Across Japan, hearts wrestled between admiration and unease. The announcement had rewritten the rules of love, politics, and even power itself.
But those who truly knew Riku—his family, his friends, his fiancées—understood one thing.
No matter the chaos outside, he wouldn't run. Not from the world, not from the burden, and certainly not from the women he chose to stand beside him.
----------
The storm of camera flashes refused to die down inside the Imperial Palace's Grand Gathering Hall. Reporters shouted questions over one another, their voices bouncing off marble and glass, hungry for any word from the young man who now stood at the center of Japan's most bewildering revelation.
Riku, simply exhaled. His patience was thinning. A faint hum built up around him—static whispering through the air—then with a single clap of his hands, arcs of lightning cracked outward across the hall. The thunderous sound jolted everyone into silence.
He didn't aim to harm anyone. Just... silence the noise.
"Now if I may have your attention," Riku began, his eyes narrowing. "I'd like to explain my situation before any of you motherfuckers start labeling me a damn playboy."
The entire hall froze. Gasps and nervous chuckles rippled through the press pool, and even the photographers lowered their cameras. Rinko and Kaguya exchanged a glance, while Aichi sighed quietly from the front row. Riku almost never lost his composure—but when he did, there was usually a good reason.
And right now, he had plenty.
The emperor himself seemed unfazed. Riku bowed slightly toward Naruhito. "Forgive my language, your majesty. It's just—"
Naruhito raised a hand, amused. "It's quite alright, young man. I can tell you're under pressure. Speak freely. Just... don't take it too far."
That earned a few relieved laughs from the audience.
"Thank you, your majesty," Riku said, straightening his posture again before turning to the press. His voice steadied, but a faint edge still lingered beneath the calm. "So. You're wondering how the hell I ended up in this circus, right? Buckle up, jackasses, because it's gonna be a long story."
Laughter erupted again—genuine this time. Riku's tone had that familiar spark from his music days: cocky but grounded, honest in a way that drew people in.
"It all started last May," he continued, pacing slowly. "Live House CiRCLE—my place—had just wrapped up its first successful live event. The girls killed it. Everyone was celebrating. But as we were closing up, I got a call from my grandfather. He said that I was 'on a timer.'"
A hush fell over the room. The word "timer" sent ripples of concern—death, illness, something dire.
"Not that kind of timer, you dumbfucks," Riku added flatly. The crowd burst into laughter again, tension breaking instantly.
"What I meant," he said, smirking faintly, "was that I'm already nineteen. And according to Nagae family tradition, I should've been engaged before turning eighteen. But since I spent most of my life performing overseas—first as a classical musician, then with OG—I never had the damn time for that part of the family duties. Grandfather's been bending the rules for me for years, but with me hitting nineteen, there was no more room to bend. Either I get engaged or I give up my position as next head of the Nagae family."
Cameras clicked wildly. Murmurs rose through the crowd. The young prodigy of Japan's most enigmatic bloodline was suddenly humanized—caught between legacy and choice.
"As much as I didn't want to air this out in front of the whole country," Riku went on, "fuck it. Grandfather told me I was already engaged—to someone I'd never met—and I'd meet her and her family on June 12. I agreed... but there was one small issue. The day before CiRCLE's live event, me and Shirokane Rinko of Roselia confessed to each other."
The hall exploded in noise again. Reporters were practically shouting to each other; cameras flashed nonstop. Rinko's face flushed red, but she kept a composed expression, her hands resting neatly on her lap.
Across the world, in music lounges and band studios, countless screens lit up showing the same scene. Every band—Roselia, Hello, Happy World!, Afterglow, Pastel＊Palettes, even μ's—watched with jaws dropped as Riku said that he confessed on live TV.
"I'll be honest," Riku said, raising a hand to quiet the room again, "I had no clue about Okina-sama's plan for the whole polygamy project. Didn't even hear of it until June. My situation with Rinko became a goddamn mess. Still, I asked her to trust me. And she did. She held on for days, without question, until I met my supposed fiancée—Sakurada Miyu."
All eyes turned to Miyu, who sat gracefully beside Rinko. Her pink hair shimmered under the lights, her composure impeccable, her expression serene but proud.
The reporters recognized her instantly. The Sakurada family was one of Japan's oldest and wealthiest dynasties—rivals of the Shinomiya group. The potential union of Nagae and Sakurada bloodlines sent a ripple of awe through the hall.
"The engagement wasn't random," Riku explained. "My grandmother and Miyu's grandmother were best friends back in the day. They made a promise—that if their children were of opposite genders, they'd be engaged. If not, the families would just remain close. Their kids didn't make it happen, but me and Miyu... well, here we are. It's my grandmother's Pledge."
Yukari, Yuyuko, Eirin, and Okina froze. Their faces tightened, and the faintest flicker of reverence flashed across their eyes.
The crowd noticed. A French reporter raised his hand. "Pardon, but... Lady Yukari and the others, they reacted strongly. May we ask, what is this 'Pledge' he speaks of?"
Riku nodded. "The Pledge is a sacred promise among the Celestial Families. Once invoked, it binds the soul—across time, even in death. Break it, and the one who does faces consequences worse than you can imagine. It's why our word carries weight. A Pledge isn't just a vow—it's law written in spirit."
The room went silent again, reverent. For the first time, many understood what truly bound the Celestial Families to Japan. Not just tradition. Not power. But devotion sealed in eternity.
"Anyway," Riku continued, "when I met Miyu and found out she was my fiancée, I also brought Rinko and her family along—they had their own role to play. I called Okina-sama for answers, and, well... didn't expect her grand plan to be a goddamn harem setup."
Laughter erupted again, even from the gods. Yuyuko had to cover her mouth to keep from cackling.
"After hearing all the rules, I decided to accept," Riku said. "But first, I asked both Rinko and Miyu how they felt about it. Their answers... they surprised me. Both accepted. And I'm grateful. Because honestly? I couldn't bear to break either of their hearts. I almost used my own Pledge because of it."
Kaguya's voice sliced through the hall. "YOU ALMOST USED YOUR WHAT NOW!?"
Riku sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Yeah. I almost invoked my Pledge for them. If I had, I'd be bound solely to the two of them forever. That would've meant casting aside Rongrong, Rei, and Eli—before they even entered my life. I'm glad Okina-sama stopped me in time."
Even the Celestial heads blinked in disbelief. Few mortals—or even gods—ever came close to invoking such an absolute vow.
The press hesitated to interrupt, but Riku pushed on. "So, since Rinko and Miyu were my first and second wives respectively, I gave them the right to decide who else could join our relationship. If a girl wanted to be with me, she had to earn their trust first."
Murmurs rose. A female reporter stood up. "Riku-sama, forgive me, but isn't that... a bit too much responsibility to give them?"
"Maybe," Riku admitted, "but I trust them with my life. Miyu's sharp enough to see through anyone's intentions, and Rinko—though quiet—understands people better than most give her credit for. If they say someone's right for me, I'll believe them."
Rinko's cheeks glowed softly pink, while Miyu's composed mask softened into a faint smile.
"Anyway," Riku continued, "as for Wakana Rei of Raise A Suilen—yeah, we only started dating about a month ago. As we're still getting to know each other. But... the reason I fell for her is simple. Her voice."
He scratched his head sheepishly. The admission sent the crowd into another fit of laughter. Rei, sitting a few seats away, was crimson from ear to ear as Rongrong teasingly elbowed her.
Meanwhile, in Chiyu's penthouse, chaos reigned.
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Her voice!? That's it!?" Chiyu howled, doubled over as she fell from her chair. "Riku fell for LAYER because of her voice! Oh, this is priceless!"
Masuki snorted, trying not to laugh but failing. "I mean, he's not wrong. Rei does have one hell of a voice. Still... damn."
Back at the palace, once the laughter died down, Riku cleared his throat again.
"Moving on. As for Eli... I met her last year. Back when I was still touring with OG. We were performing at the Future World Super Fes in Moscow. I hit it off with Miposhka—the captain of Team Spirit. Through him, I met Eli. We got along fast. Then later, I found out that Eli was part of an old Russian noble line, and according to their family tradition, a man can only earn the right to marry a daughter if he defeats a member of her family in competition."
Riku paused, grinning faintly. "So yeah. At The International 2020 Grand Finals, OG beat Team Spirit. And that... apparently counted."
The entire hall collectively gasped. Some laughed, others whispered in disbelief. Even Yukari muttered something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like, "Unbelievable..."
Thousands of miles away, in a hotel in Arlington, the same broadcast played on a massive screen. Teams and bands gathered around to watch the chaos unfold. Team Spirit sat in stunned silence.
Slowly, all eyes turned to Miposhka.
"Oi, Yaro..." their manager, Silent, said in Russian, squinting. "You didn't... throw that match last year, did you?"
Miposhka's eyes widened. "What!? I did not! If I did, Riku would've killed me! He told me to go all out—and I did!"
Before he could say another word, Yatoro and Collapse each grabbed one of his arms, dragging him toward the hallway while the rest of Team Spirit followed, eager to interrogate their captain.
In the stunned quiet they left behind, Faith_Bian of LGD looked around, utterly lost. "Uh... what just happened?" he asked in fluent English.
Misha, seated nearby, leaned back with a sigh. "They dragged their captain for questioning."
Back at the Imperial Palace, Riku took a calm breath before speaking again, his expression softening as his gaze shifted toward the girl standing elegantly beside him.
"And finally," he said, his tone steady but laced with warmth, "for Miss Ning Rongrong herself. We've known each other since childhood. Her family used to visit Japan quite often, as her father, Fengzhi-san, and my mother were close friends. It was through those visits that we built our bond. I actually learned the way of the sword from her grandfather, Lord Chen Xin—though I've always preferred the naginata."
A quiet murmur rippled through the press row. Even the mention of Lord Chen Xin carried weight; he was known in China not just as a martial arts master, but as one of the most revered figures in the spiritual community.
Riku's next words, however, made everyone in the room straighten in surprise.
"And, as of last week... I learned something unexpected." He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck with a faint smile. "Apparently, Rongrong and I are also engaged—by arrangement of our parents. Not exactly something I accounted for."
That statement alone felt like a thunderclap. Reporters looked at one another in shock; camera flashes went off in quick succession. Whispers spread like wildfire across the hall as the implications began to set in.
The Nagae Family, already a major power in Japan's political and supernatural world... the Sakurada Family, an ancient family that rivals the Shinomiya... and now the Ning Clan of China, one of the most influential families in the east.
If these three forces were bound by marriage, it would form not just an alliance—but a transnational powerhouse. One that could reshape the political and supernatural balance across Asia.
The press seemed almost dazed by the realization until one voice broke the tension.
"Excuse me," a reporter from the Yomiuri Daily spoke up, adjusting his glasses nervously. "May I direct a question to Miss Ning Rongrong?"
Rongrong tilted her head with a small, amused smile. "Hm? Very well. Ask away."
The reporter coughed, clearly aware of the cameras aimed at him. "Here is my question, Miss Rongrong. Were you and your family aware of the Nagae Clan's... true nature?"
The question hung heavy in the air. Every camera light blinked red. Even the foreign correspondents leaned forward in anticipation.
Rongrong, however, didn't hesitate. She folded her arms and gave a charming, confident grin.
"Of course," she said simply. "I already knew Riku was a youkai. And if there's one thing I've learned about the supernatural world..." She paused, her grin widening mischievously. "It's that you have to throw your common sense straight out the window."
For a moment, there was stunned silence—then laughter spread through the hall. The tension that had hung over the room dissolved instantly. Even Riku couldn't help but chuckle at her perfectly timed humor.
As the laughter faded, another reporter quickly followed up. "It seems you've accepted your fiancé's true nature rather easily, Miss Ning."
Rongrong's eyes sparkled with playful defiance, and Riku could already tell where this was going.
"Well," she said, "Papa always told me it's better to accept something rather than deny it forever. Besides,"—she leaned slightly toward Riku with a teasing grin—"it's a lot more fun being with him. With Rinko and the other girls around, I think I can finally relax a little before inheriting the clan."
That last line completely broke the room's composure. The press burst into laughter again, their previous astonishment giving way to genuine amusement. The casual way Rongrong spoke about "lazing off" as the future head of one of China's strongest families was both disarming and refreshing.
Even Miyu giggled quietly beside Riku, whispering, "That's so like her..."
Once the laughter settled, a male reporter near the front raised his hand. His tone carried more weight, and his question drew the room back into focus.
"Riku-sama," he began carefully, "from what you've said so far, it's clear that you've fulfilled the first three conditions for the political unions. However... what about your net worth?"
The question caused a ripple of murmurs among the journalists.
The reporter continued, flipping through his notes. "According to our records, your total revenue as a musician doesn't seem sufficient to meet the financial requirements traditionally upheld by the Nagae Family."
Riku's calm expression didn't waver, but his eyes sharpened slightly. "You're not wrong," he said plainly. "As of now, my music-related earnings—between tournaments, performances, and sponsorships—are roughly thirty million dollars."
A few reporters scribbled furiously, impressed despite themselves.
"But..." Riku leaned slightly forward, his tone suddenly more commanding. "Who said I only do music?"
The air shifted. Several of the journalists stiffened instinctively, sensing the quiet pressure in his voice. Then, just as suddenly, Riku's lips curved into a calm smile again.
"I'll put it this way," he continued. "If I hadn't chosen to pursue music, I would've gone into baking. I was actually invited to enroll at Totsuki Culinary Academy back then."
A collective gasp filled the hall.
"Not just invited," he added, almost casually, "but offered the Second Seat of the Elite Ten. Sanzaemon-dono himself made the offer. But I declined it."
The silence that followed was absolute. Even the cameramen froze mid-shot.
To anyone familiar with the culinary world, that revelation was earth-shattering. The Second Seat was reserved for the best of the best—students who stood among the apex of Japanese cuisine. For someone outside the culinary field to be offered that position outright was unheard of.
And to decline it? That bordered on insanity.
Reporters scrambled to confirm what they'd just heard, whispering frantically among themselves. Social media feeds were already blowing up worldwide.
Riku chuckled lightly at the stunned faces before him. "I love baking," he said simply. "Truly, I do. But I love music more. Back when I was still performing regularly, baking was what kept me grounded. Whenever I felt pressure before or after a concert, I'd bake something—usually bread. Watching my bandmates' faces light up when they ate it... that was enough to make the stress disappear."
His words carried a quiet sincerity that disarmed even the toughest reporters. The way he spoke wasn't about boasting—it was about passion, pure and unfiltered.
"Of course," he added, leaning back slightly, "music isn't my only income stream. I've invested in several ventures over the years."
He paused, the corners of his mouth lifting as he dropped the final revelation.
"But the biggest one? Is Pantasia."
The entire room fell silent.
A beat later, a collective gasp.
"...You mean the Pantasia?" a reporter finally managed to ask.
"The very same," Riku confirmed with a small nod. "I'm the owner after all."
Cameras exploded in flashes once more. The uproar that followed was nearly uncontrollable—journalists whispering, typing, calling editors. Pantasia was Japan's most prestigious bakery franchise, known worldwide for its unmatched quality and innovative techniques.
That the young musician who conquered the music world was also the silent owner of its most iconic bakery chain... it was the kind of story that would dominate headlines for weeks.
Across the city, inside the cozy living room of the Ichigaya household, the girls of Poppin'Party sat glued to the television.
Kasumi's mouth hung open. "Ehhhhh?! Senpai owns Pantasia!?"
Arisa nearly dropped her phone. "What kind of monster of talent is this guy?!"
Rimi blinked rapidly, clutching her pillow. "So that means all those fancy pastries from last time... he baked them himself?"
Tae, munching on a roll, just nodded absentmindedly. "They were too good to be store-bought..."
But Saaya didn't say a word. Her expression froze as she stared at the screen, her thoughts spinning.
Riku wasn't just a world-class musician. He wasn't just a magician or a leader. He was also a culinary prodigy who turned down Totsuki Academy—a feat that no ordinary person could even dream of.
Her hands slowly clenched against her knees as she whispered under her breath, "...He's so far ahead."
A quiet insecurity crept into her chest. Compared to him—his brilliance, his composure, his sheer capability—she suddenly felt small.
But then, a warm hand touched her shoulder. She turned to see Kasumi smiling at her, her usual spark back in her eyes.
"Don't worry, Saaya," Kasumi said softly but with conviction. "I know that senpai will notice your talent too."
Saaya blinked, then smiled weakly. "Kasumi..."
"Remember," Kasumi continued, her tone bright yet sincere, "Senpai doesn't care about people being perfect. He just wants us to be us. You love what you do, right? That's what he sees."
Saaya let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. "You always know what to say, Kasumi."
"Of course!" Kasumi grinned, puffing her chest proudly. "I'm the leader of Poppin'Party!"
The two girls laughed quietly, the tension fading. On the television, Riku's confident smile filled the screen as he continued answering questions, the press still hanging on his every word.
Saaya looked at him one more time—his calm aura, his sincerity—and felt something stir again within her.
"You're right," she murmured, her tone regaining strength. "It's too early for me to give up on Riku-kun."
Kasumi grinned wider. "That's the spirit!"