The worst part wasn't that a magical girl had fallen from the sky.
It was that now she was living in his house.
And that she had no concept of clothes.
Akira stood frozen in the hallway, holding a fresh towel like a holy relic, while Sera Rymer casually strutted past him wearing absolutely nothing but the bath steam clinging to her curvy figure.
"Hey, do you have soap that doesn't smell like sadness?" she called from the bathroom doorway. "Also, how do humans survive with this little hot water? My mana pool used to be deeper than your tub."
"Could you please just—cover—something!?" Akira begged, shielding his eyes with one hand while offering the towel like a peace treaty.
"Eh?" Sera tilted her head, her large, dripping chest jiggling ever-so-mockingly. "You're my Master. Don't you want to inspect your property?"
"I want to die," Akira muttered.
Still, she took the towel—after spinning once dramatically—and wrapped it around herself in the most barely legal way possible.
Sera was chaos incarnate. She had only been here for one night, and already his house smelled like incense and broken rules. She ate instant ramen with chopsticks made of conjured fire. She accidentally blew up the microwave trying to "bless the box beast." And now she walked around like it was a clothing-optional resort.
And that was before Kurumi Ogino got involved.
"Hey Akiraaa! I brought the history notes from today—ACK!?"
The door had opened. Kurumi had walked in, bright-eyed and innocent in her sailor uniform, with notes in one hand and a smile—
—and then she saw Sera.
Still damp. Still in the towel.
Still looking smug as hell.
"EHHHHH!?" Kurumi turned scarlet from head to toe. "W-W-W-W-W-WHAT IS—WHO IS—?!"
Sera raised an eyebrow. "Who's the loud cat?"
"I am NOT a cat!" Kurumi snapped, though her fluffy black cat-ear hoodie made that a hard sell. She tugged her hood down, trying to act mature—but her giant chest bounced slightly with each motion, and Akira was suddenly extremely aware of just how dangerous this was.
"This is—uh—Sera. A distant cousin. From the countryside," Akira lied poorly.
"The countryside has boobs like that!?" Kurumi snapped, face bright red. "And why is she living here? You live alone! Your house was always super boring and clean and sad and—wait, is this a live-in girlfriend situation!?"
Sera stepped forward, mischievous glint in her eyes. "Oh? You're jealous, Neko-chan?"
"Neko—!?"
Sera sniffed around Kurumi, invading her personal space in a way that made both girls' boobs nearly touch.
"Hmm… natural curves. No enchantments. And the scent of cinnamon shampoo." She smiled wickedly. "I approve. She can stay too."
"Stay!? I'm not staying—I'm just—wait, why do you get to decide anything?!"
"Because I'm the slave. He's the Master." Sera nodded at Akira. "Technically, that makes him your lord too."
"IN WHAT WORLD!?" Kurumi squealed.
Akira slumped to the floor. "Can someone just erase me already…"
And then things got worse.
Later that evening, Akira tried to sneak into the living room to grab his charger.
He opened the door.
Sera was in his oversized shirt and nothing else—stretching on the couch with one leg in the air.
"Master~ You dropped this," she said, holding up his phone with her toes.
He died. Again. Mentally.
"WHY ARE YOU ALWAYS IN THAT POSE!?"
"It's comfortable. Also, I'm a shapeshifter." She flicked her ears—and two adorable cat ears popped from her silver hair. "See? I thought you'd like it."
"I don't!! I don't like it at all!!" he yelled, nose bleeding just a little.
From behind him, Kurumi peeked in. "...You definitely like it."
"Go home, Kurumi."
"Nope. I'm moving in. Someone has to protect your virtue, you damn idiot."
Akira screamed into a pillow.
---
To be continued