Three years, maybe four, had passed since their wedding. Makoto couldn't quite remember, and honestly, the years had blurred into one long, sleep-deprived stretch of chaos and happiness.
Today was a Friday, when he can work from home. He'd just committed his final line of code and turned off his laptop with a satisfied click. The day's work was done. He stretched in his chair, a low groan escaping his lips.
On the king-sized bed behind him, two small figures who had been silently watching his monitor with attention looked up.
Aiko, Mika's daughter, had her mother's serene and intelligent eyes. She tilted her head, her expression unreadable but attentive. Beside her, Ren, a mini version of Mafuyu's gentle soul, offered a shy and bright smile.
"Is Papa done?" he asked.
"Papa's done," Makoto chuckled, ruffling his hair. "Where are your mothers, Aiko, Ren?"
Ren's little arm shot out, pointing a chubby finger towards the door. "Mama… kitchen! Yuna-mama… angry!" he reported, his eyes wide with the gravity of the information.
Aiko, ever the intelligent one, added without being asked. "Mama Mika is on the phone for business," she said, her voice quiet and clear. The word "business" sounded unnervingly professional coming from a three-and-a-half-year-old.
"Let's go and help your Mama, then." He scooped them both up, one under each arm. Aiko let out a tiny squeak of surprise, while Ren giggled and wrapped his small arms around Makoto's neck. He carried them out of the bedroom like two wriggling sacks of potatoes.
They walked into the living room. It was no longer his parents' apartment. They had moved into a five-bedroom house around two years ago, funded by his salary at Clitify, revenue from the Harem Scarem Productions brand, Mika's Mi-sensei superchat, and financial help from both his parents and Ayane's parents.
The hallway told the story of their new life. Framed photos lined the walls: the chaotic first birthday party where Asuka had smeared cake on everyone, a professional group cosplay shot from last year's Comiket, and Makoto's parents holding their four new grandchildren with expressions of shocked acceptance.
As Makoto stepped into the open-plan living room and kitchen, the scene Ren had described came into sharp focus. To his left, Mika was pacing around by the large glass door that led to the backyard. She was in full serious mode, Bluetooth earpiece in, her expression calm but her voice sharp.
"…No, a fifteen percent wholesale discount is the absolute floor for a bulk order of that size," she said. "You can check with our competitors, but they don't have our quality. And I'll email you the finalized contract by the end of the day."
Mika had transformed from a college student into a consultant (or "slave" as she liked to call it) at Deloitte right after graduating. She was juggling Harem Scarem Productions, her Vtuber career, and her Deloitte consulting job with efficiency.
Her old yandere instincts now showed up as an uncanny ability to read people and close deals. She could negotiate million-yen contracts while planning Comiket layouts and balancing the household budget. Even motherhood hadn't cracked her composure.
She parented Aiko with the same precision she applied to everything else, complete with detailed schedules and developmental charts. The other wives had learned not to question her financial decisions.
But beneath that calm exterior, her devotion to Makoto had only intensified. Those brown-pink eyes still saw everything, and when chaos erupted, a single quiet word from her could restore order to the entire household. She had become the quiet power behind his strange, wonderful family.
To his right, in the kitchen, was the source of the screaming. Yuna, wearing an apron over her designer T-shirt, was glaring at a small gray-haired girl standing defiantly beside an overturned bag of flour.
"I told you not to touch that, Yumi!" Yuna snarled, pointing a spatula at her tiny, pouting clone. "Now look at this mess! You are a messy little pig just like your father!"
Yumi, covered in fine white dust, just glared back at her mother with a furious pout that was a perfect mirror of Yuna's own. "Baka mama!" she shouted, her voice a high-pitched squeak of tsundere rage. "Give me pudding!"
It was hard to believe this was the same Yuna who used to blow her entire allowance on gacha pulls. These days, after graduating with her design degree, she is the Director of Harem Scarem Productions.
She still screamed at people, though now it was about color accuracy and layout perfection instead of failed SSR rolls. But somehow that tyrannical perfectionism had built their little cosplay brand into something that actually paid the bills. Her gacha addiction hadn't disappeared, of course. Every figurine purchase was "for research," and every new game was "for analysis."
What hadn't changed was her fierce protectiveness, though it had expanded beyond just Makoto to include the entire household. She still called him a fat pig with the same affection other people reserved for "darling," and she would complain loudly about every little thing while also being the first person to throw down if anyone dared criticize her family.
Watching her bicker with Yumi was like seeing a mirror. Two identical tsunderes locked in a loving combat over everything from snacks to toy storage.
Mafuyu was there too, calmly sweeping up the flour with a dustpan. Her belly was swollen, a three-month baby bump showing. She looked up as Makoto entered, and her face broke into a warm smile. "You must be tired, honey. Dinner is almost ready."
Mafuyu wasn't the same woman who used to flinch at loud voices. She had blossomed into the heart of their household, moving through the daily chaos with a confidence that somehow kept everyone grounded. She had found her calling as the foundation that held their family together: managing schedules, mediating with the toddlers, making sure each of them was fed and cared for.
Even the other wives deferred to her judgment now. Yuna might rage about everything else, but she listened when Mafuyu spoke about household matters. Mika's detailed spreadsheets always had a list of Mafuyu's recommendations, and those were never questioned. She had become Mamafu to everyone under this roof, the calm center of their family.
Makoto gently lowered Ren down as he leaned in to kiss Mafuyu. "I've just finished my work. Is there anything I can help with?"
Ren toddled happily toward Mafuyu and hugged her leg. She stroked his hair, her expression softening as she accepted Makoto's kiss on her cheek. "I have it under control, honey," she murmured, her hand resting on her round belly. "You can just relax."
Makoto came closer to give Yuna another kiss on her cheek. She jumped slightly when his lips touched her. Her angry glare softened for a fraction of a second before she rebuilt her walls. "Don't sneak up on me, you idiot!" she huffed, though a faint blush dusted her cheeks. "And no, you can't help. You'll just get in the way."
Then Makoto kneeled down next to Yumi, bringing himself down to eye level with the tiny flour-dusted tyrant. "Give daddy a kiss too, Yumi?"
Yumi stared at him, her little arms crossed defiantly over her chest, her pout deepening, looking so much like her mother. She considered it for a moment, then shook her head violently, sending a tiny puff of flour into the air. "NO! Baka dada! Pudding first!" She turned her head away with a sniff, presenting him with the back of her gray-haired head.
"Yumi! Don't be rude!" Yuna scolded, though there was a hint of pride in her voice. "Kiss your father when he asks! He's the one who buys you puddings, you little moron!"