Chapter 7: The Battle for the Living Room - Dolls and Dramas

Saturday afternoon should be a time of rest. A time for quiet contemplation, for losing oneself in the pages of a good book. That was my plan, at least. I had found a comfortable spot on the living room sofa, a cup of freshly brewed tea on the table beside me, and a thick mystery novel in my hands. The house was, for a miraculous four-minute period, completely silent. It was bliss. Pure, unadulterated bliss.

Then I heard a creak on the stairs. The bliss was over.

Inoue bounced into the room, her boundless energy seemingly amplified by the weekend. She surveyed the room with the curious eyes of an explorer discovering a new land. Her gaze landed on the top shelf of the bookcase, and a little gasp of delight escaped her lips.

"Ooh! What's that?" she asked, pointing at a fluffy, slightly dusty brown bear plushie sitting amongst some old photo albums.

I glanced up from my book. "That's Sir Reginald Fluffington the Third. He's a limited-edition prize from the UFO catcher at the old arcade."

"He's so cute!" she squealed. She dragged a chair over, climbed onto it with a distinct lack of grace, and carefully retrieved the bear. She hugged it tightly, burying her face in its synthetic fur. "Can I have him, Oppa? Please? He's so soft! I'll take him on tour with me!"

Before I could answer, a second presence entered the room. Ayumi stood in the doorway, her eyes narrowed to slits. She looked at Inoue, then at the bear in her arms, and her expression darkened.

"Put the bear down," Ayumi said, her voice dangerously calm. "Slowly."

Inoue blinked. "Why? He's just a cute teddy bear."

"He's not 'just a cute teddy bear'," Ayumi corrected, walking slowly into the room. "He is Sir Reginald Fluffington the Third, a sacred treasure and a symbol of my Onii-chan's undying love and affection for his one and only sister. He won it for me on my tenth birthday."

I cleared my throat. "Actually, I won that on a random Tuesday because I had a coupon for ten free plays-"

"The point is," Ayumi interrupted, glaring at me for ruining her dramatic monologue, "it belongs to me. It is a cherished piece of the Kitamaki household history. And your grubby idol hands are defiling it."

Inoue hugged the bear tighter. "No way! Takeshi-oppa didn't say I couldn't have him! Besides, you're probably too old to be playing with dolls anyway!"

"How dare you!" Ayumi shrieked, her composure finally shattering. She lunged for the bear. "Give him back!"

What followed was a scene of such utter absurdity that I could only watch, my book forgotten in my lap. A full-blown tug-of-war erupted in the middle of the living room over a ten-year-old stuffed animal. They spun in circles, knocking over a stack of magazines and sending cushions flying.

"He's mine!"

"Finders keepers!"

"He's a symbol of sibling love!"

"He's a cute plushie that needs a new home!"

Just as the chaos reached its peak, Azuwa walked in, holding a bottle of water. She took one look at her sister and Ayumi grappling over the bear and sighed, the very picture of mature annoyance.

"What are you two doing?" she asked, her tone dripping with disdain. "You look ridiculous. Stop it before you break something."

"Azu-nee! Ayumi is trying to steal Sir Reginald!" Inoue whined, straining to keep her grip.

"He was mine first!" Ayumi grunted back.

Azuwa rolled her eyes. She didn't care about the bear, I could tell. But she saw an opportunity. An opportunity to needle Ayumi. A wicked little smirk played on her lips.

"Honestly, Ayumi-san," Azuwa said, leaning against the doorframe. "You're being awfully possessive over a children's toy. Takeshi-nii probably doesn't even remember who he won it for. Maybe he secretly wanted Inoue to have it all along. He's probably just too shy to say it."

Ayumi's eyes blazed with fury at this outrageous claim. "That's a lie! Onii-chan loves me most!" Seizing the moment while Ayumi was distracted, Inoue gave a mighty heave. Ayumi, not to be outdone, dug her heels in.

This was my chance to intervene, to be the adult in the room. But I was morbidly curious to see how this would play out. It was like watching a nature documentary about two very stubborn, very loud squirrels.

Then Ayumi decided to deploy her signature move: failed sabotage.

"Oh, Inoue-chan, look out!" she cried, pretending to stumble. She was holding a glass of juice she'd brought in earlier. Her plan, presumably, was to spill the juice on Inoue, forcing her to let go of the bear in shock.

It was a terrible plan.

Ayumi "tripped," sending the glass of orange juice flying through the air in a perfect, glistening arc. However, Inoue, with the reflexes of a trained performer, ducked at the last second. The juice sailed right over her head.

Unfortunately, Hina had chosen that exact moment to walk into the living room, engrossed in a large, glossy magazine. The arc of orange juice found its target with a wet, splattering sound.

Hina slowly lowered the magazine. A massive, sticky orange stain was spreading across a two-page feature on Milan Fashion Week. The silence in the room was suddenly heavy and terrifying.

"This," Hina said, her voice trembling, "was a first-edition import copy of 'Vogue Avant-Garde'. There are only five hundred of these in all of Japan."

She looked from the ruined magazine to Ayumi, and a murderous glint entered her eyes. The battle for the bear was instantly forgotten, replaced by a new, more pressing crisis.

"AYUMI!"

As Hina lunged for my sister, Ayumi shrieked and used Inoue as a human shield. In the ensuing scramble, all three of them lost their balance. I heard a faint but distinct RRRRIP sound.

Everyone froze.

They slowly untangled themselves. Lying on the floor between them was Sir Reginald Fluffington the Third. His left arm had been completely torn off at the shoulder, leaving a trail of white stuffing on the carpet like a sad, fluffy wound.

Five pairs of eyes turned to me. I had remained silent on the couch, the impartial observer to this stuffed-animal tragedy.

I closed my book, marking my page carefully. I placed it on the table next to my now-cold tea. I stood up, walked over, and picked up the maimed bear and its detached arm. I looked at the three culprits, who were now staring at the floor in shame.

"First of all," I said, my voice utterly devoid of emotion. "It was a Wednesday. And I didn't have a coupon; the arcade owner gave me free plays because I helped him fix his change machine."

I held up the bear. "Second, I didn't win this for anyone. I won it for myself. I thought his tiny felted top hat was neat."

I turned and walked out of the room, leaving them standing there in stunned, guilty silence. My Saturday afternoon of quiet reading was ruined. But at least, for a few precious moments, the house was silent again.