The return to Apartment 301 wasn't a triumphant hero's arrival. It was more like the migration of a small traveling circus that had just lost its tent.
Kaito unlocked the door, pushed it open, and was immediately greeted by the familiar, sterile smell of his own home, now contaminated by traces of feminine perfume.
"Home, sweet and cramped home," Kaito muttered, kicking his shoes into the corner of the genkan.
They entered. The heat from outside was replaced by the stuffiness inside, until Kaito turned the fan on max.
"Occupation Protocol: Activated," Fia declared. And then, to Kaito's silent horror, she didn't disappear. She walked noisily across the wooden floor to the center of the room and stretched, occupying an unacceptable three-dimensional volume.
"Fia," Kaito said, stopping with his hand on the doorknob. "The ethereal form rule..."
"...Was for 'public'," the goddess interrupted, turning with a smug smile. "This is a private domain. Besides, the Glasses Scientist has already seen my physical glory. Hiding now would be a waste of mana and social rudeness. The System calls this 'Transparency in Domestic Relations'!"
Kaito looked at Futaba. She was adjusting her new skirt, looking strangely comfortable with the pink-haired girl's presence.
"She has a logical point, Tanaka," Futaba said, without looking up. "If she is a mass of condensed energy, maintaining physical form must be the state of lowest entropy for her, compared to constant fluctuation."
"Don't use thermodynamics to justify my headache," Kaito retorted. But he knew the battle was lost. "Whatever. Just... don't break anything. And don't touch the new console."
The rest of the afternoon unfolded in a sort of domestic anarchy that set Kaito's nerves on edge.
Kaito's apartment, designed for the solitude of a single apathetic male, now housed four distinct personalities, transforming the 20-square-meter space into a sociological study of confined chaos.
Mai Sakurajima took the lead in the kitchen, focused on preparing tea. She used Kaito's mismatched mugs. With movements full of grace and elegance, Mai moved effortlessly, preparing the drink and maneuvering around Fia and Futaba, avoiding any collision.
Rio Futaba, the new owner of a socially acceptable wardrobe, had settled in the corner of the room, leaning against the wall. She wasn't reading a scientific book. She was holding one of Kaito's manga—"Fullmetal Alchemist," volume 7. She read with an analytical expression, occasionally frowning.
"The Law of Equivalent Exchange is philosophically sound," she muttered to no one in particular. "But biological mass for human transmutation ignores the complexity of cellular structure."
Fia, the System Goddess, was lying on her stomach on the floor, swinging her legs in the air, watching a variety show on the new TV.
"Look, Kaito!" she shouted, pointing at the screen where a comedian took a pie to the face. "Human culture is fascinating! They find joy in physical humiliation! This explains why you hit me with the magazine! It is a form of cultural entertainment!"
"It is a form of discipline," Kaito corrected, sitting on his beanbag which he had successfully claimed after a brief territorial dispute with Fia.
"Kaito-kun," Mai called from the kitchen. "The tea is ready. And I found a pack of rice crackers in the back of the cupboard that expired last week."
"Expiration dates are an industry suggestion, not a law of nature," Kaito replied. "Bring them."
They had a snack: stale crackers and steaming tea, on a hot Sunday.
Kaito observed the group.
Mai, blowing on her tea, looking like a queen in exile. Futaba, carefully brushing cracker crumbs off her new skirt. Fia, trying to balance a cracker on her nose.
The environment was noisy, confined, and unproductive.
"This is..." Kaito thought, searching for the right word. "...an infestation."
But as he looked at Futaba, who for the first time in days didn't seem on the verge of a nervous breakdown, he felt the infestation was, perhaps, tolerable. At least until the end of the mission.
Night fell, bringing with it darkness and the inevitable logistical crisis of sleep.
Kaito closed the curtains. The "Other Futaba" hadn't posted anything new in the last few hours, which was a sign of stability or that she was sleeping. Either way, there was nothing to do until the next morning.
"Time to sleep," Kaito announced, turning off the TV and console. "The hotel is closing recreational activities."
Fia sat on the floor, hugging her knees. "I don't want to go back to the closet," she whined. "It smells like vacuum cleaner and loneliness in there."
"The vacuum cleaner is your roommate. Treat it with respect," Kaito said, implacable.
"But there's room in the bedroom!" Fia argued, pointing to the sliding door. "The bed is big! If Mai and Rio sleep on the sides, and I stay in the middle, we fit! It's the 'Divine Sandwich'!"
Mai and Futaba exchanged a look.
"I..." Futaba began, blushing. "I don't mind if she... I mean, she is warm. Thermally speaking. And the closet seems... cruel."
Mai sighed, looking at Kaito. "Kaito..."
"No," Kaito raised his hand. "Absolutely not. Three people in a reinforced single bed is not a 'Divine Sandwich,' it is a structural collapse. If the bed breaks, who pays? Me. Besides, Fia snores at frequencies that violate the Geneva Convention."
"I DO NOT SNORE!" Fia shouted. "I EMIT SACRED VIBRATIONS OF RESONANCE!"
"Closet," Kaito pointed. "Now. Or I bring the magazine."
Fia looked at the magazine on the side table. Looked at the dark closet. With a dramatic martyr's sigh, she stood up.
"History will judge your cruelty, Chosen One," she declared, marching into the hallway. She opened the closet door, gave a sad "good night" to the girls, and shut herself in the darkness.
Kaito felt a pang of guilt. A very small pang, the size of a pixel, which he promptly ignored.
"You two," Kaito pointed to the bedroom. "Bed. No arguments."
Futaba stood up, smoothing her skirt. She seemed to hesitate.
"Tanaka..." she said, without looking at him. "Thank you. For... the day. And for the bread. And for not letting me sleep on the street."
"Whatever," Kaito replied, already unrolling his sleeping bag on top of the beanbag. "Just solve your identity crisis soon so I can reclaim my bed. My back is starting to form a permanent 30-degree angle."
Mai smiled, passing by him. She gave a light tap on his shoulder. "Good night, Kaito."
"Good night."
They entered the bedroom. The sliding door closed. The crack of light went out.
Kaito was alone in the silent living room.
He lay on the beanbag, contorting himself to find a position where his vertebrae didn't scream. The apartment was quiet, except for the hum of the refrigerator and... yes, the soft sacred vibrations coming from the closet.
He stared at the dark ceiling.
Tomorrow was Monday. School day. Day to face the "Other Futaba" in her territory. Day to try and merge two girls into one without causing a psychological explosion.
"How..." Kaito yawned, feeling the weight of mental exhaustion crush him, "...troublesome."
He closed his eyes.
The image of Futaba in the clothing store, looking at herself in the mirror and smiling, passed through his mind.
"At least she bought the skirt," he thought, before consciousness faded. "That was an efficient investment."
Sleep came quickly, but in the back of his mind, the mission clock kept ticking. Reintegration wouldn't be as easy as buying clothes. It would require something Kaito detested even more than spending money.
It would require feelings.
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