Chapter 134: Aoi, You Wouldn't Want...
"Thank you, Sound Hashira, and also..."
Aoi bowed deeply, her voice tight with nervous formality. Listening to her rattle off her gratitude to everyone present as if she were reciting a lengthy restaurant menu, a collective sweatdrop seemed to form over the dining table. Even Kanao, who hadn't uttered a single word the entire time, received a formal mention. Though the quiet girl showed no outward reaction, she also didn't speak up to rebuke Aoi for her stiff, almost overwhelming politeness.
Exchanging helpless but fond glances, the residents of the Butterfly Mansion quickly intervened, gently urging the rigid girl to just sit down and eat her meal before it grew cold. The dining table slowly returned to its usual warm, bustling atmosphere. With Aoi's energetic presence now added to the mix, the room felt even livelier than before, filled with the comforting clatter of bowls and chopsticks.
The moment lunch concluded, Aoi immediately sought out Hanako, her eyes practically sparkling with determination as she asked for her daily work assignments. Hanako beamed, naturally thrilled to have someone so serious and driven to share the logistical workload. She already knew this energetic girl would be an exceptional helper.
Watching Aoi march closely behind Hanako as they left the dining room, Kanae blinked, a sudden thought striking her. She finally remembered the initial detail that had drawn her attention to the girl—Aoi and Akira shared the exact same surname.
"Akira-kun," Kanae began, tilting her head with a soft smile. "Do you think Aoi might be a distant relative of yours?"
The remaining girls at the table turned their curious gazes toward him. Akira sat comfortably, leaning back slightly. Nestled securely in his arms, Kanao's serene expression faltered. Her delicate brows knit together in a subtle frown, as if the mere concept of another girl sharing his family name was entirely unacceptable. However, she quickly smoothed her features back into her usual tranquil smile, though her small hands gripped the fabric of his shirt just a fraction tighter.
"You guys do know my history, right?" Akira chuckled, resting his chin lightly near the top of Kanao's head. "My grandfather took me in; we don't share a drop of blood. Besides, in his generation, he was the only male heir. As for anything further back down the family tree, I couldn't say for sure. But even if there is some distant, convoluted kinship, it doesn't really matter, does it?"
"I suppose that makes sense," Kanae agreed, nodding thoughtfully.
"Still," Akira mused aloud, a teasing glint in his eye, "I wouldn't exactly mind having another younger sister running around..."
Before he could even finish the sentence, a soft thud interrupted him. Kanao had firmly pressed the crown of her head against his chest, burying her face into his shirt.
Looking down, he met Kanao's wide, silent gaze. Her amethyst eyes communicated her demands with absolute clarity: he could only have her as his younger sister.
A wave of fond helplessness washed over Akira at her burgeoning possessiveness. Smiling warmly, he raised a hand and began to gently stroke her dark hair. "Alright, alright," he murmured, his voice softening. "I only have you as my little sister, Kanao. I won't let Aoi take that spot."
Instantly appeased, Kanao's tense shoulders relaxed. She let out a quiet, contented breath, her eyes fluttering shut as she leaned into his touch, nuzzling against his palm like a clingy, affectionate kitten.
And just like that, Aoi smoothly integrated into the sprawling, eccentric family of the Butterfly Mansion. She swiftly cemented her position as the number one assistant to the head housekeeper, Hanako.
Thanks to the rigorous physical enhancements brought on by her Breathing Technique, the young girl possessed a reservoir of stamina that easily rivaled, or even surpassed, that of fully grown men. Combined with her fiercely responsible nature and her newfound appreciation for the critical importance of logistical support, her efficiency in handling the mansion's endless trivial matters was nothing short of staggering.
Hanako frequently sang her praises, proudly showing off her new, highly capable right-hand woman.
Yet, if there was one glaring issue with this exceptional assistant, it was that she was perhaps a little too capable.
As an administrative assistant, Aoi's primary duty was to delegate tasks to the lower-ranking staff and manage the supply lines. She rarely needed to get her own hands dirty. Despite this, she absolutely refused to stay on the sidelines. Ever since her arrival, her small, bustling figure could be seen darting across the courtyards—carrying towering stacks of fresh linens, grinding medicinal herbs until her knuckles ached, and scrubbing floors until they gleamed.
It appeared Akira had been entirely too successful in his role as her impromptu emotional mentor. He had completely shattered her initial belief that logistical work was a useless consolation prize for cowards, but in doing so, he had inadvertently swung the pendulum to the extreme opposite. Now, Aoi viewed every single chore, no matter how minute, as a matter of life and death.
While her dedication was admirable, flesh and blood were not made of iron. Prolonged, high-intensity labor inevitably bred deep-seated fatigue. Fatigue bred a lack of focus, and a lack of focus inevitably birthed dangerous mistakes. It was the classic trap of pushing too hard, too fast.
Currently, Aoi was coasting purely on her sheer stubborn willpower and the passive physical buffs of her Breathing Technique. But if she maintained this breakneck pace, a crash was inevitable.
Akira decided enough was enough. Watching Aoi sprint past him down the wooden corridor with a massive basket of wet laundry, he finally called out, "Aoi, hold on a second."
Before the last syllable even left his mouth, her rapid footsteps screeched to a halt. She spun on her heel, marching briskly back to him before executing a crisp, perfectly angled bow. "Do you have any instructions for me, Lord Akira?"
Akira suppressed a heavy sigh. After he had repeatedly begged her to stop addressing him by his formal title of Sound Hashira, Aoi had simply pivoted to calling him 'Lord Akira.' She applied the same rigid honorifics to Kanae, Shinobu, and the others, treating them all like royalty. According to her strict internal logic, while she was deeply grateful they treated her like family, she was still a subordinate. During working hours, she insisted on maintaining absolute professional boundaries and showing them the utmost reverence.
The core issue with this philosophy was that, in Aoi's mind, every waking moment outside of eating and sleeping constituted working hours. Aside from the brief windows at the dining table where she allowed her guard to drop slightly, she remained a wall of impenetrable, polite reverence. The rest of the household had tried to persuade her to relax, but after several fruitless attempts, they had collectively given up.
"I don't have any 'instructions' for you," Akira said, keeping his tone light and conversational. "I just wanted to remind you to actually take a breath and rest. Even steel blades chip and break if they're used constantly without maintenance. Humans are no different."
"I appreciate your deep concern, Lord Akira," she replied without missing a beat, her posture stiff. "However, my body is functioning perfectly fine for the time being. I have no issues."
Seeing the stubborn set of her jaw, Akira realized gentle reasoning wasn't going to pierce her armor. He had no choice but to deploy his trump card.
"What I mean is," he continued, narrowing his eyes slightly to project a more serious aura, "you shouldn't monopolize all the labor. When you make yourself this frantic, your focus slips. You know the saying, 'haste makes waste.' If you push yourself to the point of exhaustion, you'll inevitably drop a medicinal tray or mislabel a prescription. You wouldn't want your work to suffer from careless mistakes, would you?"
He watched the words hit their mark. Aoi's eyes widened a fraction, her rigid posture faltering.
Pressing his advantage, Akira added, "As Auntie Hanako's assistant, your primary duty is to help her strategize. You need to arrange and distribute tasks efficiently, not hoard them. You are a manager now, Aoi. You aren't the only logistics staff member in the Butterfly Mansion. Let the others do their jobs."
"I..." Aoi stammered, her gaze dropping to the floor as she processed the obvious logic.
"If you're unsure how to delegate, just ask Auntie Hanako for advice," he suggested gently. "She has kept the Butterfly Mansion running in perfect order for years. I promise you, she didn't achieve that by trying to scrub every floorboard herself."
Aoi bit her lower lip, her grip on the laundry basket loosening. "Understood... I will do that. Thank you for the vital reminder, Lord Akira."
With a final, slightly less rigid bow, she turned and walked away at a much more reasonable, measured pace.
"My, my~ 'You wouldn't want your work to suffer from careless mistakes, would you?'" a highly amused voice drifted from the nearby doorway.
Makomo and Shinobu popped their heads out from around the corner, their eyes dancing with mischief.
"Your silver tongue is really getting more and more impressive, Akira," Shinobu teased, a sly smirk playing on her lips. "Do you happen to remember a certain someone claiming they were completely clumsy with words?"
"I'm just exploiting the fact that Aoi is too serious for her own good," Akira replied, completely unfazed. He offered a casual shrug. "Besides, I had to say something so she'd finally relax. As Auntie Hanako's assistant, she shouldn't be breaking her back over manual labor anyway."
He easily brushed off their playful teasing. Having lived alongside these girls for several years now, he was thoroughly immune to their daily doses of snark.
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