The Yuuki household was quiet. Too quiet.
For the past few weeks, the house had been a chaotic storm of activity. Run and Ren had practically lived in the guest room, filling the halls with arguments and idol songs. Haruna had been visiting constantly, her shy laughter echoing in the library. Lala was… well, Lala.
But things had changed.
Run had moved out. With the massive influx of cash from her debut contract with Galaxy Star Productions, she had purchased a high-security, luxury apartment in the city center to be closer to the studios. Ren went with her, grumbling about protecting her virtue (mostly from Rito). Haruna was back at her own home, dealing with her own family.
The house was back to the canon trio: Rito, Mikan, and Lala.
But it didn't feel like the old days.
Dinner was a silent affair. The only sound in the dining room was the clink of chopsticks against ceramic bowls.
Mikan sat at her usual spot. She ate with mechanical precision. The food was perfect, as always, simmered daikon and grilled fish, but there was no love in the presentation. No extra garnish. No smile.
She didn't look at Rito. She didn't speak to him unless it was strictly necessary.
"Bath is ready." she said, her voice flat, staring at her rice.
"Thanks, Mikan." Rito said, trying to inject some warmth into his voice. "The fish is really good today."
Mikan didn't respond. She stood up, took her empty bowl to the sink, and started washing it immediately. The water running from the tap was the only conversation partner she seemed interested in.
Lala, sensing the absolute zero temperature of the room, quickly finished her food.
"Yum! Thanks, Mikan-chan!" Lala chirped, though her usual bounce was dampened. She looked between the siblings. "I... I have to go check on Peke-kun in the lab! I'm calibrating the... um... thing!"
She fled. She zipped up the stairs, pulled the attic cord, and vanished into her dimensional room, escaping the suffocating tension.
Rito sat alone at the table, staring at Mikan's back.
He knew why she was angry. He knew she felt abandoned. He knew she had seen the three seals and realized she was the only one without a mark, without a claim, which made her feel left-out from something right in front of her.
'I have to fix this.' Rito thought, his hand clenching into a fist on his knee. 'But words aren't enough anymore. I have to show her through actions.'
He finished his meal, washed his own dishes in silence next to her, she moved away the second he approached the sink, and then went upstairs.
He didn't go to sleep.
He went to his desk. He turned on the small lamp, casting a circle of yellow light over the surface. He pulled out his drawing tools, fine-point pens, rulers, jars of high-quality ink he'd bought with his saved allowance.
Then, he pulled out the manuscript paper.
He took a deep breath, focusing his mind. He didn't access the dream memories directly; he let them flow through his hand, translating the images burned into his subconscious onto the page.
He began to draw.
The lines were sharp, dynamic, and filled with an energy that professional mangaka spent years cultivating. He was drawing a boy with a monkey tail, soaring on a cloud.
Dragon Ball.
He worked for hours. The house settled into deep night. His hand cramped, ink stained his fingers, and sweat made his tank top stick to his defined abdomen, but he didn't stop. He was driven by a singular, desperate goal: to build a future where he could support everyone—especially the girl downstairs who wouldn't look him in the eye.
…
2:00 AM.
The hallway floorboard creaked.
Mikan walked silently down the hall, holding an empty glass. She was thirsty, but mostly, she was restless. The anger and loneliness churning in her stomach made sleep impossible.
She paused outside Rito's door.
A sliver of light was visible under the frame. And there was a sound.
Scritch... scritch... scratch...
It was a rhythmic, frantic sound.
Mikan's eyes narrowed in the dark. Her mind immediately went to the worst-case scenario. Was he on the phone with Run? Was he video-calling Lala in the attic? Was he... doing something else with those perverted magazines he thought she didn't know about?
'He's probably laughing with them.' Mikan thought bitterly. 'Planning his next date. While I'm just here, keeping the house running.'
The resentment flared hot in her chest. She didn't knock. She gripped the door handle and threw it open.
"Rito! What are you do—"
She froze.
…
Mikan stood frozen in the doorway, her hand still gripping the handle.
She had expected to find him on the phone. She had expected to find him with a magazine. She had expected to see that dopey, love-struck grin he wore whenever he looked at Lala, Run or Haruna.
But she didn't expect this.
Rito was hunched over his desk, illuminated by the single circle of the lamp. He was wearing a white tank top that was damp with sweat, clinging to his back and outlining the sharp definition of his muscles. His hands were covered in black ink stains.
But it was the room itself that stopped her.
The floor was carpeted in paper. Dozens of manuscript pages were spread out to dry, covering the futon, the shelves, and the floorboards.
"Rito...?" Mikan whispered, her anger deflating into confusion.
Rito jumped, spinning around in his chair. He looked exhausted. There were dark smudges under his eyes, and a streak of ink across his cheek.
"Mikan!" He scrambled to cover the page on his desk. "I—I didn't hear you come in. Is something wrong?"
Mikan walked into the room, stepping carefully over the papers. She looked down at the one nearest her foot.
It was a drawing of a boy with spiky hair and a monkey tail, holding a strange, four-star ball. The lines were crisp, dynamic, and bursting with a professional energy she had never seen in his sketches before.
"You drew this?" she asked, crouching down to pick it up.
"Yeah," Rito rubbed the back of his neck, looking embarrassed but... honest. "I've been working on it. Secretly. For a while now."
Mikan looked at the page. It wasn't just a doodle. It was a story. She read the dialogue in the bubbles. It was funny. It was exciting.
"Why?" she asked, looking up at him. "Why secretly? And why... why now? You have... you have them. You're the future King."
Rito sighed, leaning back in his chair. He looked at his ink-stained hands.
"That's exactly why, Mikan. I'm the future King, but right now... I'm just a high school student relying on Lala or luck. I don't have any power of my own. I can't support a family, a big family, like this."
He looked her in the eye, his expression serious.
"I want to be strong enough to take care of everyone. I want to make my own way. I want to be a mangaka, Mikan. A real one."
He picked up a sheet of paper from his desk and handed it to her. It was the title page for the one-shot.
DRAGON BALLBy Hoshino Ryūto
"Hoshino Ryūto?" Mikan read the name aloud.
"It means 'Star-field flowing fighter'." Rito explained, a small, proud smile touching his lips. "I want to be someone who can fight for his stars. For... for all of you."
Mikan looked at him. She saw the sweat on his chest, the definition of his 5-pack abs flexing as he breathed, the exhaustion in his eyes. He wasn't playing around. He wasn't chasing girls. He was working himself to the bone, alone in the dark, trying to build a foundation for the chaotic life he had stumbled into.
And he hadn't told Lala from the looks of it. He hadn't told Run or Haruna either.
He was telling her.
A tiny crack formed in the ice around Mikan's heart. It wasn't forgiveness, not yet, but it was understanding.
"It's... good." Mikan admitted quietly, placing the page back on the desk. "The art style is... surprisingly professional. For you."
"Thanks," Rito laughed, relieved. "But... I'm terrible at the finishing touches. My inking is messy, and I keep smudging the screentones."
He looked at her, a sudden thought crossing his face.
"Mikan... you're really good at details, right? You always notice the small things."
He hesitated, then asked, "Would you... maybe... want to help me? Just with the beta and the cleanup? I can't ask the others."
He counted them off on his ink-stained fingers, his expression wry.
"Lala would try to use a laser beam to dry the ink. Run would get too excited and probably rip the paper. And Haruna... she tries so hard, but she'd be so nervous about messing up that she'd probably faint. I need someone steady. Someone I can trust completely with this."
Mikan blinked.
He was asking her. Not because she was his sister, but because he needed her specifically. He was choosing her over the Princess, the Idol, and the Librarian.
It was a secret. A secret world where no wives were allowed. Just the two of them, late at night.
Mikan looked at the messy room. She sighed, but the corner of her lip twitched upward.
"You're hopeless…" she said, rolling her eyes. "If I don't help, you'll probably spill ink on the tatami and ruin the deposit."
She walked over to his bed, moved a stack of papers, and sat down.
"Show me what needs to be done." she commanded, her voice regaining some of its usual bossy warmth. "But if this interferes with your schoolwork, Hoshino-sensei, you're grounded."
Rito beamed at her, a genuine, brilliant smile that made Mikan's chest tighten.
"Thanks, Mikan."
*****
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