---

The tension was a living thing.

The air itself seemed to tremble as Rin and Ayame faced each other—the fox-girl crouched low, claws curled and teeth bared, Ayame with her blade angled, her stance steady, eyes sharp as steel. Neither of them moved, but everything about them screamed that the next heartbeat would erupt into violence. My pulse hammered in my ears; I was frozen, caught between fear and the impossible urge to shout.

Then—

"Stop!"

Sora's voice rang out like a bell cracking through the fog. I hadn't even noticed her move, but suddenly she was behind Rin, her small frame trembling with the weight of the moment. Her hands stretched out, clutching the little bracelet she had poured her heart into weaving, her face desperate but resolute.

For an instant, Rin's head jerked back, ears twitching at the sound. Her glowing eyes flickered, narrowed, then faltered. It was like the command had reached something deep inside her, tugging at the frayed edges of her fury.

And in that pause—Sora acted.

Her hand darted forward with surprising speed, quicker than I thought her capable of, and the bracelet slipped around Rin's wrist.

At first, nothing happened. Then… it began.

The air shimmered faintly around Rin's form, as though the bracelet had anchored her to reality. Her growl quieted into a sharp exhale, her body trembling. Slowly—so slowly—her sharp fox features began to melt away. The wild distortion of her voice softened into something painfully familiar, her posture sagging under an invisible weight.

But she didn't go back to how she was before.

Her face cleared, her skin smoothed, her form shifted into the girl we knew—but the fox ears remained, soft brown and twitching against her dark hair. Her tail, too, unfurled behind her, brushing against the ground as it swayed in restless confusion. And her eyes… her eyes were no longer their gentle shade. They were green, a sharp, vivid green that glowed faintly like moss under sunlight.

She froze, staring at all of us as though waking from a dream. Then the horror in her expression deepened.

"I… I almost…" Her voice cracked. She staggered a step back, then dropped to her knees as though her legs could no longer hold her. Her hands trembled as she pressed them into the dirt, her shoulders shaking violently. "I almost hurt you. Sora, I—"

Her words broke off into sobs. She bowed her head so low her forehead touched the ground, tears dripping into the soil. Her tail curled around her like she was trying to shrink into herself.

"I almost… attacked you. I was ready to strike Ayame. I…" Her hands curled into fists, trembling harder. "I'm dangerous. I'm not safe to be around. Don't come near me—I don't want to hurt anyone."

Ayame lowered her sword, silent but unreadable, her dark eyes fixed on Rin with the same focus she always had—like she was weighing her, testing her.

Sora, though… Sora's heart was breaking in front of us. She stepped forward, reaching out with trembling hands. "Rin… no. You're not dangerous. You're—"

"Don't!" Rin flinched away so sharply she nearly toppled. "Don't come near me—I could hurt you again. Please. Please don't…" Her tail flicked anxiously, ears pressed flat.

But Sora didn't listen. She never does when her heart's decided something.

She dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around Rin anyway. The smaller girl stiffened, eyes wide in shock, but Sora only held her tighter. "You're not a monster," she whispered against her hair. "You're our friend. Our family. And I won't let you push us away."

The courtyard was silent except for Rin's sobs.

Elira, regal as always but softer than usual, moved closer and placed a gentle hand on Rin's shoulder. "You are not alone, Rin. Blood or no blood, you have a place here."

Akane sighed, rubbing the back of her neck, but her eyes were warmer than her tone. "Yeah, idiot. You think we'd just dump you over something like this? We're tougher than that."

Mei, of course, had to add her sting, crouching down with a smirk. "Honestly, if anyone's dangerous around here, it's me. You just got some competition, that's all." Her words were playful, but the way she rested her dagger casually across her knees was her way of saying: I'll fight for you too.

Rin's tears wouldn't stop. She clutched Sora back finally, trembling, her voice breaking. "I don't deserve any of you…"

I watched all of it quietly, my system pinging somewhere in the back of my head with a snarky notification—something about "fox upgrade unlocked: ears & tail permanently equipped." But I ignored it for once.

Because right then, it wasn't about me, or the system, or the chaos of what Rin was becoming.

It was about her breaking down in front of us, and us choosing—together—not to let her face it alone.

---

The courtyard still felt heavy, like the air hadn't quite exhaled after what just happened. Rin was curled in Sora's arms, her sobs slowly softening, her fox ears twitching beneath trembling fingers. Everyone was quiet. Not a single breeze stirred.

Then Akane sniffed. Not a casual sniff, not a "what's that in the air" sort of thing. No, this was the sharp, trained inhale of someone who could tell you what was cooking three streets away. Her head snapped toward the house, nose wrinkling.

"…Do you guys smell that?"

At first, I didn't notice it. My brain was still caught on Rin's tears, on her glowing green eyes that wouldn't go away no matter how hard I blinked. But then—yeah. The smell hit. Thick, acrid, and horrifyingly familiar.

Smoke.

"Oh, crap," Akane groaned, bolting upright. "Something's still in the oven!"

We all turned at once toward the mansion. A dark gray plume was already curling out of the window Ayame had left cracked open earlier.

My stomach dropped. "Wait—what?!"

Apparently, before Rin's little feral episode, someone—had been cooking. And then chaos had swept that detail out of existence.

Until now.

"Elira, open the door!" Akane shouted as she sprinted ahead.

"I could simply dispel the flames—" Elira began, but she didn't even finish. Akane kicked the door open, and smoke billowed out like the house itself had taken up smoking cigars.

The tension of the fight, the near-tragedy, Rin's breakdown—it all evaporated in the most mundane panic possible: we were about to burn dinner.

Everyone scrambled inside.

The kitchen was a battlefield of its own. Smoke alarms screamed like banshees. A black cloud swallowed the ceiling. The oven was rattling angrily, coughing out dark fumes.

Ayame, in full swordswoman mode, didn't hesitate. She marched forward and—of course—kicked the oven door open like it had insulted her honor. A burst of smoke hissed out, rolling across the floor like some miniature evil spirit. Inside, what used to be food was now an unrecognizable brick of carbonized misery.

"It's dead," Ayame declared flatly. "No saving it."

Mei, however, gasped as if she'd just lost a comrade on the battlefield. "My chicken!" she cried, dramatically throwing herself onto her knees. "Nooo, I spent at least—like—twenty whole minutes on that!"

"You spent ten of those arguing with me about seasoning," Elira reminded her, coughing as she tried to fan the smoke toward the window.

"Doesn't matter!" Mei's eyes narrowed, glittering with dangerous hunger. "Dinner is gone. Gone. And I'm starving."

System notification: [Quest failed: Dinner. Penalty: Starvation-induced bickering imminent.]

Thanks, system. Very helpful.

While Mei was wailing over her lost masterpiece, Rin slipped quietly into the room, a hoodie pulled over her head. She tugged the fabric low to hide her fox ears, though her tail betrayed her, peeking out behind her like an awkward flag. No one said a word about it—no one judged her—but still she hunched in, trying to shrink out of existence.

I noticed how her hands stayed tight around the hoodie's sleeves, twisting nervously. The fire, the chaos, the smoke—she barely reacted to any of it. Her focus was on hiding.

Sora, of course, noticed too. She set a gentle hand on Rin's shoulder. "It's alright," she whispered, smiling softly. "No one's looking at your ears. They're… cute, actually."

Rin's face flushed scarlet, her tail flicking in startled embarrassment. She pulled her hood tighter. "N-no, they're not. They're… wrong."

"They're you," Sora replied simply, before hurrying toward the counter to join Mei.

Meanwhile, Akane was already halfway through trying to repair the damage. She muttered under her breath, weaving small bursts of magic at the cracked window that had nearly shattered earlier. The glass shimmered faintly, edges knitting together in jagged patterns. Not perfect, but functional.

Meanwhile, Mei had taken over the kitchen like a warlord claiming new land. The ruined dinner was already pushed aside, and she had rolled her sleeves up with a terrifying glint in her eyes. "If fate dares to take my chicken, then fate will taste my vengeance."

"Translation," Akane sighed, "she's making round two."

"Exactly!" Mei brandished her dagger like a chef's knife, glaring at anyone who dared to doubt her. "This time, nobody distract me."

Sora eagerly hovered at her side, nodding. "I'll help! I can chop vegetables, or—um—mix, or stir—"

"You can taste-test," Mei interrupted, shoving a spoon into her hands.

Elira finally stepped into the kitchen, fanning the last of the smoke with a casual wave of her hand. "Honestly," she said with mild amusement, "you mortals and your ovens. In the palace, meals of this size were conjured in seconds."

Mei shot her a glare sharp enough to peel potatoes. "Then conjure us something now, princess."

Elira's lips twitched upward, just slightly. "No. I want to see you work for your hunger."

Mei muttered a string of curses under her breath, but the way she stormed about the kitchen was almost… light. The earlier tension had drained from her movements. She was fiery, stubborn, alive again.

Dinner hadn't just been destroyed. It had been replaced with something else—something messy, loud, a little smoke-stained. But as everyone bustled about, the fight outside was fading into the background.

I leaned back against the doorway, arms crossed, watching.

Rin tugged at her hoodie, still self-conscious, but her eyes wandered—toward Sora laughing as she accidentally spilled flour, toward Akane scolding Mei about nearly burning the oil, toward Ayame sharpening her blade at the table like she had nothing better to do.

And for the first time since the fight, I saw it. The tiniest flicker of a smile on Rin's lips.

System notification: [Crisis resolved. Dinner: 2nd attempt in progress. Harem bond +5].

Yeah. For once, the system wasn't wrong.

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