Chapter 182: This Breakfast Is Truly a Breakfast
"Ahaha... Makomo, I ended up pressing down on your shoulder all night. Is it sore? Here, let me massage it for you..."
Noticing the subtle shift in Makomo's gaze, Akira immediately sprang into action. Reluctantly giving up the heavenly comfort of her lap pillow, he shifted behind her in the blink of an eye. He placed his warm hands over her delicate shoulders, his thumbs pressing down and kneading the stiff muscles with just the right amount of moderate force to soothe away the lingering soreness.
Almost every swordsman in the Demon Slayer Corps knew a thing or two about muscle-relaxing massages to aid their recovery, but Akira, who pushed his body to the absolute limit year-round, naturally possessed a masterful technique. The moment his fingers worked their magic, Makomo instantly cast aside her previous lingering displeasure. Her tense posture melted, and she squinted her beautiful eyes in pure, unadulterated enjoyment.
Seeing her relaxed state, Akira redoubled his efforts. After thoroughly working the tension out of her shoulders, he shifted around to her side. Gently, he lifted her supple legs and rested them across his own lap, his hands moving down to massage her thighs.
"And your legs too," he murmured softly. "I don't know exactly how long my heavy head was resting on them, but they must be feeling a bit numb by now, right? Let me knead them out for you..."
He was being so incredibly active in currying favor not just to distract her from the morning's awkwardness, but out of genuine, deep-seated care. He had practically pinned her shoulder down for the entire night. If she had been an ordinary girl, she would have completely lost all sensation from her shoulder down to her fingertips by dawn. Even though Makomo's physique, honed by rigorous Breathing techniques, was vastly superior to a normal person's, bearing his weight for so long would undoubtedly leave her with significant discomfort.
If it hadn't been unbearable, she never would have risked waking him just to shift his head from her shoulder down to her lap.
Because of that, Akira focused entirely on the massage, channeling his energy into easing her strain. When Makomo first felt the warm sensation of his hands pressing into her thighs, a flush of shyness crept up her neck. However, seeing his serious, focused expression—completely devoid of any inappropriate lust—and noting that his well-behaved hands never once wandered past acceptable boundaries, she gradually let her guard down. Suppressing her initial embarrassment, she leaned back and continued to squint her eyes in blissful comfort.
"Oh~ Mngh—"
Perhaps because his technique was simply too perfect, Makomo's mind completely relaxed, and a soft, undeniably suggestive moan slipped past her lips before she could stop it.
Even though she realized what she had done the very second the sound escaped and snapped her mouth shut, the damage was done. Akira's rhythmic movements instantly faltered. His hands froze mid-knead, locked in a posture ready to apply force. His neck turned stiffly, like a rusted gear, as he stared blankly at the furiously blushing Makomo. For a long, agonizing moment, neither of them knew how to react.
To make matters infinitely more awkward, a sudden knock echoed against his bedroom door.
"Akira-kun, it's... it's time for breakfast."
Kanae's voice filtered in from the hallway. Immediately after she spoke, the rapid patter of retreating footsteps echoed through the corridor, though the rhythm sounded unusually frantic and unsteady.
Even though Kanae had tried her absolute best to keep her tone perfectly normal, both Akira and Makomo had lived with her long enough to instantly detect the heavy unnaturalness trembling in her voice.
It was painfully obvious. She had definitely heard Makomo's breathless moan just a second ago, and had only rushed her words to avoid a catastrophic level of embarrassment. In her sheer panic, she had even forgotten to call Makomo down for breakfast.
Everyone residing in the Butterfly Mansion was well aware that Makomo had slipped into his bedroom last night. They had all assumed the two of them would simply share a quiet, heart-to-heart conversation and then innocently fall asleep in each other's arms, exactly like they had on Makomo's eighteenth birthday.
Consequently, hearing such a scandalous sound coming from Makomo so early in the morning was enough to make even the usually poised and mature Kanae's brain completely stall out.
"Sister?"
Kanae didn't even realize how she had managed to walk all the way back to the dining room until Shinobu's voice—laced with deep concern and a hint of confusion—finally yanked her scattered thoughts back to reality.
"Ah... I... I'm completely fine, Shinobu. Akira-kun and Makomo... they will be here shortly."
Seeing her older sister's clearly off-kilter, flustered state, Shinobu's violet eyes narrowed into sharp slits. A dangerous, venomous light seemed to flicker within their depths. Naturally, that murderous aura wasn't directed at Kanae, but rather at a certain culprit who was highly suspected of making her beloved sister look so thoroughly shaken.
Sitting nearby, Mitsuri watched the usually gentle, endlessly mature Kanae reduced to a stuttering mess, her large green eyes brimming with innocent confusion and burning curiosity.
Meanwhile, the moment Kanao registered Kanae's highly unusual state, she silently slipped away from the dining table while the others were distracted, her quiet footsteps carrying her straight toward Akira's room to investigate.
Witnessing this bizarre chain of events unfold, Sawaki and Hanako, as well as Aoi, all exchanged glances filled with vastly varying emotions. Aoi simply looked bewildered by the sudden tension. Sawaki's face darkened, practically radiating the protective resentment of a father figure, while Hanako only looked slightly surprised, a faint, gratified smile tugging at the corner of her lips.
As for the Three Little Ones—Sumi, Kiyo, and Naho—they merely sat in their chairs, waiting quietly and patiently for the morning meal to finally begin.
While everyone left at the table stewed in their own wild assumptions, Kanao had already encountered Akira and Makomo halfway down the corridor. Both of them looked incredibly unnatural. Makomo, in particular, was practically radiating an irrepressible, fiery shyness, shooting tiny, resentful glares at the man walking beside her.
Seeing this, Kanao blinked her large, expressive eyes in mild confusion.
The atmosphere between them didn't seem to match the scandalous scenario she had imagined. From the looks of it, whatever had happened was nothing more than an unfortunate, incredibly embarrassing misunderstanding.
At that realization, a distinct flicker of disappointment flashed through Kanao's usually placid eyes. However, the fleeting emotion vanished as quickly as it appeared, going completely unnoticed by the flustered couple.
If Akira had caught that look, he surely would have thought: 'What exactly are you disappointed about?!'And if the rest of the Butterfly Mansion crowd could hear his thoughts, they would undoubtedly condemn him on the spot:'It's all your fault for corrupting our pure Kanao!'To which he would only be able to offer a bewildered question mark.'Kanao is still so young,'they would argue.'What bad intentions could she possibly have? It must be your terrible influence!'
Faced with such an imaginary, yet entirely plausible interrogation, Akira would have been rendered completely speechless.
Returning to reality, Akira and Makomo braved the incredibly heavy atmosphere permeating the dining room and stiffly took their respective seats. Aside from Mitsuri, whose gaze remained bright and entirely clear of suspicion, and the Three Little Ones, who happily chirped their morning greetings, everyone else at the table intensely scrutinized the pair.
A moment later, a collective hint of surprise flashed through their eyes.
Given Kanae's deeply flustered behavior just moments ago, they had all firmly believed she had walked in on something highly inappropriate. But now, seeing the two of them with their clothes perfectly neat, their collars unwrinkled, and their movements completely unobstructed by any lingering soreness, it seemed like absolutely nothing scandalous had happened after all.
Consequently, the intense glares directed at Akira and Makomo slowly morphed into looks of deep confusion and burning curiosity.
Feeling the weight of their collective stares, Akira silently looked down at the steaming bowl of rice and miso soup placed in front of him.
'This breakfast... is truly just going to be a breakfast...' he thought, mentally bracing himself for the impending interrogation.
Suddenly, Makomo gently nudged his forearm beneath the table, silently urging him to say something. At the exact same time, a small, delicate hand raised up right in front of Akira's face, effectively blocking his view of his food.
It was Kanao's hand.
Having naturally claimed her usual spot sitting comfortably in his lap to eat, the young girl tilted her head back, her large eyes looking up at him expectantly.
"Big Brother," she began, her voice soft but clear enough for the entire silent table to hear. "You and Sister Makomo..."
"Cough, cough... well..." Akira cleared his throat awkwardly, his cheeks heating up slightly under the intense spotlight. "There was a... small accident this morning..."
Seeing that there was absolutely no way he could hide from this without making things worse, Akira sighed and briefly explained the entirely innocent situation regarding the muscle-relaxing massage.
When the group finally heard the full truth—that Makomo simply couldn't help herself from making that sound because his massage technique was just far too comfortable—everyone at the table blinked, looking at each other in stunned silence.
The Three Little Ones simply tilted their heads. "Can we start eating now?" they chimed in unison.
Shinobu, Hanako, and Kanao all shared the exact same deadpan expression. 'That's it?' their eyes seemed to scream, entirely unimpressed by the anticlimactic reveal.
Aoi let out a long breath, her shoulders dropping. "Well, it's good as long as nothing is wrong."
Sawaki, however, merely crossed his arms and let out a loud, distinctly disappointed, "Tsk."
Mitsuri, still trying to piece the puzzle together, tilted her head innocently. "So... why was Sister Kanae acting so shy earlier?"
At that entirely genuine question, Kanae buried her burning face into her hands, letting out a muffled, thoroughly defeated, "Wuwuwu..."
Beside him, Makomo's face erupted in a fresh wave of crimson. Both she and Kanae blushed furiously, and exactly like Akira had done just moments earlier, they silently lowered their heads to stare intently at the food placed before them, wishing the floor would swallow them whole.
'This breakfast... is truly a breakfast...'
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