"H-Hi, Miori… how are you?"
Renji's hesitant, almost reverential voice comes through Miori's phone.
Meanwhile, Miori lounges comfortably in her enormous bathtub — a bath she decided to take after her usual evening kickboxing training session.
"How am I? I don't know, Renji. I might be in a good mood… or extremely irritated, depending on what you're about to tell me."
"R-Right… I just wanted to let you know that earlier this evening, I did what you asked me to do at Cordesol Meat. I taught that loser a good lesson. Enough to force him to stay home for at least a week, but not enough to send him to the hospital… just like you told me."
"Oh, it only took you almost two years, but it seems you finally managed to make yourself useful for something. I'm honestly satisfied — I didn't think you'd actually have the guts to do it."
"T-Thanks, Miori… so… was I good?" Renji stammers timidly, with the hesitant tone of a child seeking a parent's approval.
