The bonus story is dedicated to Yui, the poor designer girl who appeared too late to join Makoto's harem.
Everything happens in an alternative timeline where Yuna's just a stepsister. Therefore, it's written from Yui's POV.
===
As we finished our team demo at Clitify's hackathon, my hands wouldn't stop shaking. Even with the applause echoing through the conference room, all I could hear was my own heartbeat thumping against my ribs.
I stood beside Makoto-senpai at the podium, gripping the edge until my knuckles turned white.
The demo had worked perfectly: Our Family Engine didn't crash while both the Yandere and Tsundere archetypes worked together. Even Hiro, the Lead Designer, actually wiped his eyes during the Nurturing Care Logic presentation.
Makoto leaned down, his voice rough after hours of pitching. "Good job, Yui."
I looked up. He was smiling, that tired, genuine smile I'd been sketching in my notebook between UI mockups for the past month.
"We did it together, Reliable-senpai," I whispered back.
Usually, this was when he'd check his phone, mutter about curfews, and rush home to that mysterious life of his. But tonight, he pulled out his phone, stared at the screen for a moment, then shoved it back into his pocket.
"Kenta-san's inviting everyone to the hotel bar," Makoto said, loosening his tie. Then looked at me, and something in his eyes made my stomach flip. "I'm thinking of staying. You want to come?"
"He was staying, actually staying." My mind started racing before my mouth slipped. "Yes!" The word came out too loud and eager, and I coughed, lowering my voice. "I mean… yeah. I could use a drink."
===
Two hours and three highballs later, the world had gone soft at the edges. The hotel bar was dim, the low hum of jazz and clinking glasses filling the air. The rest of the team had commandeered a corner booth, shouting over each other.
But somehow Makoto and I had ended up at a small table by the window, separated from the noise. The alcohol had burned away my professional anxiety. I was just Yui now, sitting across from the guy I'd been crushing on since I saw him at the company lobby, waiting for his interview.
Makoto's phone lit up on the table. His lock screen showed a selfie of him and a girl with gray hair and violet eyes. She was pinching his cheek with a grumpy expression while he laughed.
My chest tightened. I pointed with a finger that wasn't quite steady. "Is that your girlfriend?"
Makoto glanced down and laughed, bright and easy. "Her? No, that's Yuna, my stepsister."
"Stepsister?" My word hung in the air.
"Yeah," he sighed, but his expression went fond. "She's a brat. Stays up all night gaming, eats my snacks, and calls me a fat pig every morning. But she's my family. Our parents remarried when we were kids, so it's just us in the apartment now."
He picked up the phone, shaking his head. "She probably changed my wallpaper last morning to assert dominance. She's obsessed with some gacha games and treats me like her personal ATM." He set the phone down and looked at me, his gaze clear. "Did you think I was taken?"
The question hung between us, but my head already started shouting inside. "Yay! He is still single. No secret wife, no hidden girlfriend. Just a bratty sister."
I looked at him properly for maybe the first time: The way his eyes crinkled at the corners, the strength in his hands, or how he'd stepped between that King_Slime guy and me in the meeting last week like it was nothing.
I took a breath and grabbed my glass. "Okay. I designed interfaces for a living, I identified user needs and provided solutions. His need is stress relief and affection. The solution will be... me."
So, I leaned forward, resting my chin on my palm. "Maybe," I said, my cheeks heating up. "You're reliable and kind, Senpai. I figured someone would've snapped you up by now."
Makoto rubbed the back of his neck, looking away. Even in the dim light, I could see the flush spreading across his cheeks. "I'm just a guy who likes code and anime, Yui. Not exactly a catch."
"I disagree," I said, quieter this time.
He turned back, surprised by the intensity in my voice. We stared at each other, and the noise of the bar seemed to fade out until there was just him, me, and the space between us that felt smaller by the second.
"Yui," he said, his voice dropping lower. "It's getting late! You've had a lot to drink. I should get you home."
"Okay," I said, standing up on legs that weren't quite steady, and Makoto was there immediately, his warm and firm hand closing around my elbow.
"God! I didn't want the night to end. I didn't want him to leave."
===
The taxi ride passed in a blur of neon lights. Makoto sat close, keeping a respectful distance that slowly vanished every time the car turned, and our knees touched.
"You sure you're okay, Yui?" he asked, looking concerned. "You're pretty red."
"I'm fine," I murmured, though my head was spinning in a pleasant way. I watched his face under the passing streetlights. He was so unaware of how kind he was.
When we pulled up to my building, he paid the taxi before I could even reach for my wallet. Then he walked me to the front door, his hands still buried in his pockets.
"Drink some water before bed," he said, giving me that gentle, brotherly smile. "See you Monday, Yui." He turned to leave.
Panic shot through my chest. If he left now, Monday would reset everything. We'd be colleagues again. The magic would evaporate.
"Wait, Makoto-senpai!" I grabbed his hand.
He stopped, turning back, surprised. "Yui?"
"I…" My heart was racing. "I just bought this Gundam model named The Perfect Grade Unleashed. I can't figure out the LED wiring."
"It was a lie. I'd finished the kit weeks ago." I thought. "I was wondering if you could help me? Just for a little bit?" I said softly, looking up at him with big puppy eyes.
Makoto looked at me, then at my hand gripping his. He wasn't stupid, he knew this wasn't about plastic models.
His eyes softened, darkening with something that made my breath catch. The reliable senpai mask slipped, revealing something hungrier underneath.
"Okay, Yui," he murmured. "Lead the way."
===
My apartment was chaos, sketchbooks everywhere, fabric draped over chairs, half-painted figures on the desk, but I didn't care. I pulled him inside, and the door clicked shut, sealing us in.
I didn't turn on the lights. Streetlight filtered through the curtains, painting everything in blue-gray shadows.
"So," Makoto said, his voice rougher than before. "Where's the Gundam?"
I didn't answer while I locked the door. The deadbolt snapped into place, loud in the quiet room. Then I turned to face him, stepped into his space, and looped my arms around his neck.
"Here," I whispered, my heart hammering. "The Gundam is hugging you. I just… I didn't want you to go." I pulled back enough to meet his eyes, my voice shaking. "I don't want you to be just my Reliable-senpai. I want you to be mine, Makoto."
Makoto's hands hovered at his sides. Then, with a sound like surrender, they landed on my waist. He pulled me against him, and I could feel the heat radiating off him.
"Yui," he breathed. "Are you sure? I'm just a nerd intern with a fat belly…"
"You're the man I've been watching for a month," I interrupted. "I don't care about work. I don't care about your belly. I just want you."
I stood on my toes and kissed him.
For a second, he froze. Then a low groan rumbled in his chest, and his arms came around me tightly. He kissed back, hard and hungry.
We stumbled backward, knocking over a stack of manga, neither of us caring. We moved toward the bed, a tangle of limbs and shedding clothes. By the time we hit the mattress, we were almost skin to skin, the cool air forgotten against the heat of our bodies.
"Yui… are you sure?" he asked, hovering over me, braced on his arms. His eyes were dark and intense, scanning my face.
"I've never been more sure," I whispered. I traced his lips with my finger, then gasped as I fumbled with his shirt buttons. "I like you so much… wanted this since the first day…"
"You're beautiful, Yui," Makoto growled, ripping his shirt off and tossing it aside. He loomed over me, warm and broad, his eyes drinking me in. "I've been trying so hard to be professional. But seeing you every day, seeing that sweater falling off your shoulder…"
He reached down and grabbed my sweater, pulling it up. I lifted my arms to help him, desperate for skin contact. When I was down to just my bra and panties, he let out a low sound.
"Perfect," he murmured.