Chapter 3: The Calm Before the Storm (Is a Lie)

The silence from the bedroom was louder than any of Ayame’s shouts. It was a heavy, suffocating blanket of hurt that smothered the usual cheerful chaos of the Tanaka home. Kaito stood rooted in the living room, a man caught in the crossfire of a war he’d accidentally started.

Sariel, the blonde succubus, was still attached to his arm, beaming up at him. “So, what’s next? Can we make more of that yummy frustrated energy? It was so zesty!”

Liliana rolled her amethyst eyes, gracefully extracting a stray feather from her hair. “Ignore her. She’s new. Barely five hundred years old. Still thinks emotional turmoil is a form of entertainment.”

“It is!” Sariel insisted, her golden eyes sparkling. “It’s the best entertainment! Especially when it’s all tangled up with this one’s…” She leaned in and sniffed Kaito’s shoulder. “…protective affection. It’s a complex flavour. Like a spicy stew!”

Kaito gently but firmly pried his arm from her grasp. “No one is making any more… flavours. The kitchen is closed.” He took a step towards the bedroom, his heart a lead weight. “Ayame…”

The bedroom door remained shut.

“Oh, let her sulk,” Liliana said, draping herself over the couch again. “Mortals are so emotional. It’s their primary design flaw.”

“She’s not sulking,” Kaito snapped, a rare edge of genuine anger in his voice. “She’s hurting. Because of this. Because of… us.” He gestured vaguely between himself and the two inter-dimensional disasters.

Liliana looked mildly intrigued, while Sariel just looked confused.

“Why would she hurt?” Sariel asked, tilting her head. “We’re delightful!”

Before Kaito could formulate a response that wouldn’t cause another portal-related incident, the door to the ritual chamber slid open. Master Jin emerged, looking haggard. His eyes were bloodshot, and he smelled strongly of sage and sleep deprivation. He took in the scene: his son-in-law standing tense between two succubi, and his daughter’s conspicuous absence.

“The energy in this house is a discordant symphony,” he announced, his voice gravelly. “I can barely concentrate. Tanaka, report.”

“We had a… minor incident,” Kaito began carefully.

“The nosy neighbour came by and Kaito said I was a raccoon!” Liliana supplied helpfully.

Master Jin’s eyebrow twitched. “I see.” His gaze then fell on Sariel, who waved cheerfully.

“Hello, serious old man! I’m Sariel! I feed on joy and frustration, but mostly frustration today!”

“A second breach,” Master Jin stated, his tone flat. He closed his eyes, looking every one of his many years. “The seal is weakening faster than I anticipated. Ayame’s emotional state is the primary variable.”

“I know,” Kaito said, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I’m trying to fix it.”

“Trying is not succeeding.” Master Jin fixed him with a stern look. “The ritual is prepared, but we must wait for the celestial window. Until then, you must be more than a buffer, Tanaka. You must be an anchor. Her emotional anchor.”

“How?” Kaito asked, the question sounding more desperate than he intended.

Master Jin’s stern expression softened by a fraction. “You know my daughter. She responds to action, not just words. Grand, foolish, romantic gestures were always your specialty, were they not?”

A plan, reckless and desperate, began to form in Kaito’s mind. He looked at the two succubi, a look of grim determination settling on his face.

“Okay. New rules. For real this time.”

Liliana sighed. “More rules?”

“Rule one: You two are on your best behaviour. No teasing, no flirting, no causing ‘zesty’ energy.”

“Boring,”Sariel pouted.

“Rule two:You are going to help me.”

This got their attention. Both succubi looked at him, intrigued.

“Help?” Liliana repeated. “Help with what?”

“Help me give Ayame the most normal, stress-free, romantic evening possible.”

Sariel’s face lit up. “Ooh! A romance! I love those! They’re full of the best emotions—longing, anticipation, sweet agony!”

“There will be no agony,” Kaito said firmly. “There will be… pleasant vibes. Now, here’s the plan.”

---

An hour later, the Tanaka household was undergoing a bizarre transformation. Under Kaito’s direction, and with Master Jin providing a grumbling, supervisory presence, the two succubi were put to work.

“I don’t understand the purpose of this,” Liliana complained, holding a string of fairy lights as if it were a dead snake. Kaito was on a step stool, wiring them along the ceiling of the living room.

“It’s called ambiance,” he explained, plugging them in. The room was bathed in a soft, warm glow. “It says ‘relaxed and romantic,’ not ‘impending apocalyptic breach’.”

“I think it’s pretty!” Sariel chirped, arranging a bouquet of flowers she’d… acquired from the neighbour’s garden. She’d arranged them with supernatural speed and grace, creating a masterpiece of colour and form. “See? I can be helpful! I’m very good at beauty!”

“You are a being of desire and chaos, not a florist,” Liliana muttered.

“I’m multi-talented!”

Meanwhile, Kaito had enlisted Master Jin’s help in the kitchen. The old man, while a talisman master, was also surprisingly adept with a knife, dicing vegetables with a speed and precision that spoke of a lifetime of discipline.

“The way to a tsundere’s heart is often through her stomach,” Master Jin said, not looking up from his task. “Especially when that stomach is filled with her favourite comfort food: katsudon.”

Kaito, who was in charge of the pork cutlet, nodded grimly. This was his Hail Mary. A perfect, home-cooked meal, a beautifully set table, and a calm, succubus-free environment. It was the antithesis of their current reality.

As the sun began to set, casting long shadows through the fairy-lit living room, the stage was set. The air smelled of frying pork and flowers. The table was laid with Ayame’s best china. It was, against all odds, perfect.

“Okay,” Kaito said, wiping his hands on a towel and addressing his unlikely team. “The final part of the plan. You two… disappear.”

Liliana arched an eyebrow. “Define ‘disappear’.”

“Go to my workshop in the shed. Don’t come out. Don’t make a sound. Don’t even breathe too loudly.”

“We don’t breathe,” Sariel reminded him.

“Even better! Just… be not here.” He gave them both a pleading look. “Please. For one night. Give us this.”

To his astonishment, Liliana studied him for a long moment, a curious, almost respectful look in her eyes. “You are fighting very hard for this… normalcy. It is a peculiar form of madness.” She gestured to Sariel. “Come, child. Let us observe the mortals’ mating ritual from a distance. It might be educational.”

She led the pouting Sariel out the back door and towards the garden shed. Kaito watched them go, sending a silent prayer to any god that might be listening.

He took a deep breath, straightened his shirt, and walked to the bedroom door. He knocked softly.

“Ayame?”

No answer.

“Aya-chan? I… I know you’re upset. And you have every right to be. I’ve been an idiot.” He leaned his forehead against the cool wood of the door. “I made you a promise to protect you, and all I’ve done is let chaos in. But I’m trying to fix it. Can you… can you please come out? I made dinner.”

He heard a faint shuffling from inside. Then, after a long moment, the door slid open a crack. Ayame stood there, her eyes red-rimmed but dry. She looked past him, into the transformed living room. Her expression was unreadable.

“What… what is all this?” she whispered.

“It’s an apology,” Kaito said softly. “And a peace offering. And a reminder of what we’re fighting for.”

He offered her his hand. She hesitated, then slowly placed her own in his. Her skin was cool. He led her to the table, pulling out her chair. She sat, looking around the room in wonder.

“You did this?”

“With a little… forced labour,” he admitted, sitting opposite her. “But the katsudon is all me. And your dad. Mostly your dad.”

He served her a heaping bowl. The golden-brown pork cutlet sat atop a bed of fluffy rice and egg, steaming invitingly. For a few minutes, they ate in silence. The only sound was the clink of chopsticks and the soft hum of the fairy lights.

It was peaceful. It was normal. It was everything they hadn’t had in days.

Ayame took a bite, and a tiny, genuine smile touched her lips. “It’s good.”

The knot in Kaito’s chest loosened slightly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

They ate for a while longer, the tension slowly seeping out of the room. The talisman on Ayame’s forehead seemed less like a warning beacon and more like a simple piece of paper.

“I’m sorry,” Ayame said finally, putting her chopsticks down. “For losing my temper. I know it makes everything worse.”

“Don’t you dare apologize,” Kaito said, reaching across the table to take her hand. “This is my fault. I teased you, I flustered you, I brought this on us.”

“You didn’t know I’d scratch the talisman,” she countered, her fingers curling around his. “And you’ve been… amazing. Dealing with them. Protecting me. Even if your methods are insane.”

“Insane is my specialty,” he said with a small, relieved smile.

She looked down at their joined hands, her cheeks tinged with pink. “When I saw that… that Sariel, clinging to your arm, and you looked so flustered… I just… I couldn’t handle it. It’s stupid. I know you wouldn’t…”

“Hey,” he said, waiting until she met his gaze. His eyes were earnest, all traces of his usual mischief gone. “Ayame. There is not a succubus in any realm, a goddess on any mountain, or a woman on any street that could ever hold a candle to you. You’re my wife. You’re my storm cloud. And you’re the only chaos I ever want in my life.”

Ayame’s breath hitched. The blush on her cheeks deepened, but this time it was from pleasure, not anger. The portal on her forehead didn’t even flicker.

“You’re such a smooth talker when you want to be,” she murmured, but she was smiling properly now.

“I have my moments.”

The romantic moment was perfect, fragile, and utterly sincere.

And it was shattered by the sound of the back door sliding open.

Sariel bounded in, her face a mask of panic. “Kaito! Kaito! It’s Liliana! She’s… she’s stuck!”

Kaito and Ayame sprang apart. “Stuck? Stuck where?” Kaito demanded.

“In the shed! She was trying to see if she could phase through the wall to get a better view of your romantic dinner, and she got her… well, her… upper assets… lodged in the wood!”

Ayame’s jaw dropped. The warm, romantic atmosphere evaporated, replaced by the familiar chill of impending disaster.

Kaito put his head in his hands. “You had one job,” he moaned. “One job! To stay in the shed!”

The talisman on Ayame’s forehead gave a violent, sputtering flicker. The red glow intensified, throbbing like an angry heart.

From the hallway, Master Jin emerged, having heard the commotion. He took one look at the scene—the romantic dinner, the panicked blonde succubus, the flickering portal on his daughter’s forehead—and let out a long, weary sigh that seemed to come from the very depths of his soul.

“Tanaka,” he said, his voice heavy with resignation. “The calm is over. The storm is here. Brace yourself.”