I thought a good, home-cooked meal might calm everyone down. It was a stupid thought.
I was at the stove, putting the finishing touches on a chicken katsu curry. Cooking was my sanctuary, the one place I could impose order on the chaos. But as soon I started plating, the battle lines were drawn at the dinner table.
"I'll sit next to Takeshi-oppa!" Inoue declared, making a beeline for the chair to my right.
"No, I sit next to Onii-chan!" Ayumi shoved past her, claiming the seat on my left with the ferocity of a lioness defending her kill. "It's my designated spot!"
The two of them glared at each other across my empty seat. I placed the plates on the table, trying to ignore the sparks flying between them. Izuwa and Hina wisely took the seats opposite them, staying out of the immediate blast zone. Azuwa, acting too cool for the drama, sat at the end of the table.
Dinner started in a tense silence, broken only by the clinking of utensils. Then, the first shot was fired.
"Oppa, your cooking is the best!" Inoue gushed, her eyes sparkling. "It's so much better than the bland diet food our company makes us eat. Here, open wide! Ahhh-" She picked up a piece of chicken with her chopsticks and held it towards my mouth.
Before it could reach me, a different piece of chicken was shoved in its path.
"Onii-chan should eat my piece first," Ayumi said, her voice dangerously sweet. "I'm his one and only sister, after all. My piece has more love in it."
The two pieces of breaded chicken hovered in front of my face, chopsticks trembling with competitive energy. I ignored both of them and took a bite from my own plate.
Their faces fell.
Not to be outdone, Azuwa made her move. She silently reached over, picked up a few extra carrots from the curry bowl, and placed them on my plate.
"You should eat more vegetables," she mumbled, staring intently at her food. "You look tired. N-not that I was looking that closely or anything! I just... noticed."
Now three pairs of female eyes were locked on me, waiting to see how I'd react. I calmly ate one of the carrots. Azuwa's cheeks turned a shade of red that almost matched her hair. Ayumi and Inoue looked like they were about to spontaneously combust.
Izuwa, bless her heart, tried to salvage the situation with actual conversation. "So, Azuwa-san, Inoue-san, have you received your uniforms for school yet?"
"Our manager is handling it," Azuwa replied curtly.
"They're custom-tailoring them for us!" Inoue added cheerfully. "Our image is very important, you know!"
Hina's eyes lit up. "Custom uniforms? Seriously? What kind of fabric? Are you allowed to alter the skirt length? We have to talk about accessorizing later." She leaned forward, launching into a rapid-fire interrogation about the Korean idol industry, brand sponsorships, and stage presence. For a moment, it was a welcome distraction.
But the main conflict was far from over.
"Takeshi-nii, you have some curry on your face," Azuwa pointed out. She picked up a napkin, seemingly about to get up.
"I'll get it!" Inoue and Ayumi shouted in unison.
They both lunged across the table. Ayumi tried to reach me with her napkin, while Inoue, in a feat of startling athleticism, half-stood on her chair to get a better angle. Their hands collided right in front of my nose.
"He's my brother! I'll take care of him!"
"He's my cousin! I've known him just as long!"
"That doesn't count! You abandoned him for Korea!"
"We didn't abandon him! And he's an 'oppa', not an 'onii-chan'!"
The argument devolved into a ridiculous squabble over Japanese versus Korean terms of endearment, proper sibling etiquette, and who had the 'historical right' to wipe my face.
I just sat there, at the head of the table, a silent statue in the middle of a hurricane. I calmly picked up my own napkin, wiped the corner of my mouth, and took another bite of rice.
Izuwa looked at me, her expression a mixture of pity and awe. Hina was watching the fight with the detached amusement of someone watching a reality TV show. Azuwa was pretending not to care, but she couldn't hide her smirk.
I looked at the chaos unfolding around my dinner table-the bickering, the jealousy, the sheer, unfiltered noise.
My peaceful life wasn't just over. It had been conquered, colonized, and completely renovated into a 24/7 warzone. And this was only day one.