"Itadakimasu," the mother and daughter chorused in unison, palms together before lifting their chopsticks.
"Ehh~ oishii!" Oda Yui mumbled through a full mouth. "Onii-chan, how is it so delicious?"
"This is authentic Chinese food. I'll take you to my hometown someday," Fang Zuo ruffled Oda Yui's hair. "Japanese adaptations always overuse cornstarch gravy."
"I want to go too," Shiraishi Nagimitsu's voice, barely a murmur, was for Fang Zuo alone.
Laced with petulance.
Seated opposite him today, she unusually abandoned her usual elegant grace.
Like Oda Yui, her cheeks were puffed out while eating, a blend of adorable charm and sensual allure.
Perhaps freed from her inner demons, her state felt pure, almost childlike.
Normally deliberate and poised, every gesture an embodiment of feminine allure.
"You're just like Yui, acting like a child," Fang Zuo reached over, wiping a trace of grease from Shiraishi's lips.
"I am not a child," Oda Yui protested.
"But I am," Shiraishi retorted with a playful stuck-out tongue. Then silently forming the words with her mouth: "Otousan, love me!"
Fang Zuo paused, then chuckled, shaking his head.
The two women soon finished and scampered upstairs to change.
Fang Zuo remained on the sofa, deep in thought.
The twin catgirl sisters would bring word tonight.
Regardless of whether this "Auntie Fox" consented to see him, he would find a way.
He would find her.
Just who was this "Auntie Fox" they spoke of?
How could she possibly possess that person's scabbard?
It was inconceivable she could have taken it by force.
After becoming the world's last Sword Immortal, that man's power was unmatched.
He alone guarded the sacred land, slaying countless covetous deities and demons.
Until his ascension through proving the Great Dao.
He remained the last known ascendant in modern times.
Many believed Fang Zuo would succeed him, taking that final place.
Yet, he had failed.
Fang Zuo looked inward bitterly at the floating scabbard.
Its spiritual energy was oppressive.
The scabbard's power rivaled the sword it once held.
Crafted from a millennia-old incense wood struck by heavenly lightning, forged by the same divine methods.
Such a vital relic... casually appearing in some small establishment in Kabukichō?
Fang Zuo refused to believe it.
If this "Auntie Fox" refused to speak, he had ways to make her.
"Okay, I'm ready!"
A cheerful cry echoed from upstairs.
Thump, thump, thump.
Oda Yui bounded down first.
Her face fresh and bare, hair in twin tails.
A small backpack on her shoulders.
Wearing her Tokyo Girls' High uniform, a noticeably shortened pleated skirt.
Chunky-heeled loafers.
Unusually, she wore sheer black tights.
The white panties beneath were clearly visible, adorned with a cute kitten face print.
An intoxicating fusion of youth, innocence, and budding sensuality.
Oda Yui skipped several stairs, leaping into Fang Zuo's waiting arms.
He caught her easily, swinging her around twice.
"Onii-chan, again! Again!" she giggled, arms tight around his neck, demanding more play.
"Wear your safety shorts first," Fang Zuo set her down, patting her cheek.
"Hi! Look," Oda Yui pulled a wad of black fabric from her backpack – a pair of safety shorts.
"You have them, why aren't you wearing them?"
"I wanted Onii-chan to see my kitten! Her name's Kimi." Oda Yui blushed bright crimson, quickly making a face. "Isn't she cute?"
Fang Zuo stifled a laugh, nodding. "Very cute."
"Onii-chan, one more time!" Oda Yui jumped again, hooking her arms back around his neck.
He obliged, spinning her once more before she happily hopped down.
Clip-clopping her loafers, she dashed into the bathroom to change.
"I'm ready too," Shiraishi Nagimitsu descended the stairs gracefully.
Her face meticulously made up.
Glossy pink lip jelly making her lips shimmer.
Her wavy hair cascaded, accented by dangling tassel earrings.
Today she wore a flowing red dress with brown heeled pumps.
Her collarbones were on display, elegant and pale.
Her calves and feet sheathed in sheer patterned stockings.
"Me too!" Still a few steps from the bottom, Shiraishi smiled and leaped.
Fang Zuo caught her effortlessly, one hand sinking into the plump curve of her rear, the other supporting her back.
He spun her twice, then started to set her down.
"Dame! Yui got three spins! I want four!" Shiraishi pouted, her eyes sparkling.
Fang Zuo spun her three more times before Shiraishi finally beamed, landing lightly on her feet.
She looped her arms around his neck, pulling him into a deep, lingering kiss.
Mother and daughter flanked Fang Zuo, arms linked, as they left the house.
With their driver gone and a replacement yet to be found, they hailed a taxi.
After seeing them off, Fang Zuo checked the time and hailed another cab himself, bound for Tokyo Tower and the Metropolitan Police Department.
Meanwhile, in the Tokyo Tower Annex, Minagawa Keiko directed staff to clear away over a dozen bouquets of flowers from her office – tributes from wealthy suitors.
Today, Minagawa Keiko had shed her yoga gear.
She wore a crisp white business suit with sheer nude stockings, stepping confidently in black stilettos.
Her lips and the nails on her slender fingers were painted the same dusty rose color.
Her flawlessly applied makeup, as always, drew countless admiring glances from male colleagues.
Despite the constant influx of beautiful women in Tokyo's entertainment world, Minagawa Keiko's looks remained top-tier.
Her icy, professional demeanor, her steadfast refusal to acknowledge any wealthy bachelor's advances, the complete lack of scandals...
It made her the ultimate prize for Tokyo's young elite.
The unattainable truly was the most desired.
Minagawa entered the studio, suppressing a slight yawn behind her delicate hand.
"Baka."
Damned man.
That insufferable man.
Last night... she'd climaxed three times.
Each peak stronger than the last.
Each time feeling like the brink of death, then an overwhelming rebirth.
The ecstasy was unparalleled, unprecedented.
It had lured her deeper, again and again.
They'd even needed to change the sheets once.
But...
It had been utterly exhausting.
After the final shattering peak, she'd collapsed into sleep instantly.
Waking this morning, she'd felt... peculiar.
Only then realizing she'd fallen asleep before he... withdrew.
She hadn't even had the energy left to clean up.
Minagawa Keiko walked to the newsdesk.
Broadcast was still over ten minutes away.
This noon news slot was prime time.
Not quite the prestige of the evening news, but it spared her night shifts, preserving her life outside work.
A dream slot coveted by anchors.
Minagawa sat, picking up the day's script for a final preview.
Her limbs ached deeply.
As she crossed her legs with practiced poise, a sharp stab of soreness made her suck in a breath.
Last night... had been frantic.
She felt tender, swollen inside.
She hadn't read long when his face swam into her mind again.
That treacherous, familiar heat ignited anew.
Minagawa's cheeks flushed scarlet. She squeezed her thighs together tightly.
Gritting her teeth, she willed herself to calm down.
This was live broadcast. The entire nation would be watching.
Minagawa bit her tongue hard, forcing her most professional smile onto her lips just as the director began the countdown.
Five... Four...
Minagawa stared intently into the teleprompter.
Three...
She drew a deep, slow breath.
Two...
The ON AIR light illuminated.
One.
"Good afternoon, Tokyo! This is Minagawa Keiko, bringing you the Midday News..."
Her voice flowed smoothly, crisp and professional, honed by years of experience.
She flawlessly covered the day's headlines: a stock market update, a minor diplomatic incident, new tourism promotions in Osaka...
Halfway through the first segment, a fluttering sensation started low in her abdomen.
Ignoring it, she focused.
"...calling for increased government support..."
The fluttering intensified, spreading into a distracting tingle.
"...small businesses particularly affected..." Her fingers tightened minutely on the edge of the desk.
It wasn't stopping. The phantom warmth grew, insidiously spreading downwards, mirroring sensations from the previous night.
Her breathing became shallower despite her efforts. Heat surged from her core, traveling along nerve pathways he had mapped with such devastating efficiency.
Images of his touch, his strength, the way he had pinned her wrists... flashed unbidden.
The teleprompter text blurred momentarily.
"...infrastructure projects..." Her voice hitched, almost imperceptibly.
Her inner muscles began to clench and flutter of their own accord.
Her professional smile felt brittle. Sweat pricked the back of her neck.
"...will face delays..." She fought to keep her voice steady, her body perfectly still on camera.
Her hips threatened to shift.
Her thoughts fragmented.
"...due to budget reallocations..."
Slickness. She felt it. A traitorous damp heat blooming against the constricting lace barrier.
Her concentration shattered.
A soft, involuntary moan escaped her lips, amplified in the sudden silence between sentences.
Her eyes flew wide in pure, unadulterated panic. She froze, microphone catching her ragged breath.
The world narrowed to the glaring red ON AIR light.