Saturday mornings used to be sacred.
Before I became a father, Saturday mornings meant silence, sleeping until my body decided to return from the dead, ignoring guild notifications, and possibly eating something nutritionally questionable while pretending it counted as breakfast. It was a peaceful ritual. A private ceremony dedicated to laziness, recovery, and avoiding responsibility until at least noon.
Then I got three daughters.
Then a Demon Queen became their temporary mother.
Then my life stopped respecting weekends.
I woke to noise.
Not normal noise either. Not the soft noise of children playing in the living room, not the distant sound of the television, not even Karin declaring war on a pillow. This was active noise. Coordinated noise. The kind of noise that suggested multiple people had made a decision together, and that decision was dangerous.
Something clattered downstairs.
Hikari gasped.
Karin shouted, "It's fine!"
Ruri said, "It is not fine."
Astrea's voice cut through all of it with terrifying authority.
"Hold the bowl steady. No, not like that. Hikari, stop eating the ammunition."
Ammunition?
I opened one eye.
The clock on my bedside table read 7:30 a.m.
On a weekend.
My soul left my body, looked at the clock, and considered not returning.
"Come on," I muttered into the pillow. "It's just seven-thirty on a weekend morning. What are those four up to?"
The answer was probably something I did not want to know.
Unfortunately, I was the father, which meant knowing things I did not want to know had become part of the job description.
I sat up slowly, rubbed my face, and listened again.
Another clatter.
Karin laughed.
Hikari said, "Hikari did not mean to make snow."
Astrea replied, "That is flour, not snow."
Ruri added, "Please do not touch your face."
Karin immediately said, "Too late."
I stared at the door.
I could ignore this.
Technically.
If I closed my eyes and returned to bed, perhaps the chaos would resolve itself. The girls were with Astrea. Astrea had fifteen percent of her power back. Surely a Demon Queen could handle whatever was happening downstairs.
Then I heard Astrea say, "Do not add more. The mixture is already unstable."
A mixture.
Unstable.
In my kitchen.
I got up.
The hallway smelled sweet before I reached the stairs.
Butter. Sugar. Something warm. Something burnt? No, not burnt. Not yet. Potentially burnt. The scent of a situation before it became evidence.
I went downstairs.
Then I saw it.
Pure chaos.
The kitchen had become a battlefield again, but this time the enemy was baking.
There was batter on the counter. Flour dusted the table like the aftermath of a small winter storm. A mixing bowl sat in the center of the chaos, surrounded by spoons, measuring cups, chocolate chips, and three children in various states of culinary disaster.
Karin's face was full of flour.
Not a little. Full. It looked like she had lost a duel against a bakery.
Hikari sat on a stool with a suspiciously innocent expression while eating chocolate chips straight from a small bowl.
Ruri stood nearby with a cloth in one hand, trying to clean after her sisters faster than the mess could spread, which was impossible because Karin and Hikari were natural disasters with hair ribbons.
Astrea stood in the middle of it all wearing an apron, sleeves rolled up, eyes bright with command and what looked disturbingly close to enthusiasm.
She was enjoying this.
That was the scariest part.
"Ruri, wipe the right side before it hardens. Karin, do not shake your hands near the flour. Hikari, the chocolate chips are ingredients, not tribute for your stomach."
Hikari slowly placed one more chocolate chip in her mouth.
Astrea narrowed her eyes.
"Hikari."
"Hikari is testing quality."
"You have tested enough."
"I also want to test."
"No," Ruri said immediately.
Karin blinked. "I didn't even move."
"You were preparing to."
"Ruri is too sharp."
"Thank you."
I stood in the kitchen entrance with a deadpan expression and the spiritual fatigue of a man who had seen too much before coffee.
"What," I said slowly, "is happening?"
All four turned toward me.
Hikari smiled brightly.
"Papa! Hikari and sisters are making cookies with Mama!"
Karin raised both hands. Flour drifted from her sleeves.
"We ran out of cookies."
Ruri looked apologetic. "The cookie jar was empty."
Astrea lifted her chin as though this explained everything.
"The household supply failed. We are correcting it."
"At seven-thirty."
"Time is irrelevant when logistics collapse."
"It is a weekend morning."
"The cookie jar does not recognize weekends."
I stared at her.
She stared back.
I looked around the kitchen again. The batter on the counter. The flour on Karin's face. The chocolate chips in Hikari's mouth. Ruri fighting a losing battle against crumbs. Astrea looking like a commander leading troops through a decisive campaign.
I inhaled slowly.
"Do you know how early this chaos is?"
Karin wiped her cheek and made it worse.
"It's cookie time."
"It is not cookie time."
Hikari tilted her head. "But Papa says snack time is at three. If cookies need baking, cookies must be born before snack time."
I opened my mouth.
Closed it.
That logic had structure.
I hated that.
Astrea rolled her eyes, grabbed a pinch of flour, and threw it at me.
It hit my face.
Directly.
I stood there.
The girls froze.
Ruri gasped softly.
Karin's eyes widened with admiration.
Hikari whispered, "Mama attacked Papa with snow."
Astrea crossed her arms.
"Shut up, Mage. Come here and help."
I wiped flour from my cheek.
"This is domestic abuse."
"This is recruitment."
"I haven't had coffee."
"Then earn it."
"You are becoming too comfortable in this house."
"I am maintaining household morale."
"With flour warfare?"
"With cookies."
I looked at the girls.
Hikari smiled hopefully. Karin looked excited. Ruri looked apologetic but also secretly invested.
I sighed.
Defeat.
Again.
"Fine. Move over."
The girls cheered like I had announced a festival.
Astrea looked satisfied, which somehow annoyed me more than the flour.
I washed my hands and stepped into the battlefield. The dough was not beyond saving, though it had clearly survived several questionable decisions. Too much flour had been added, probably during Hikari's "snow" incident. The butter was slightly uneven. Chocolate chip distribution was compromised because Hikari had been conducting quality control with her mouth.
Still, salvageable.
Fatherhood had taught me many things.
Baking emergency recovery was apparently one of them.
"Karin, get me the milk."
"Yes, Papa."
"Walk. Don't charge."
She slowed dramatically, as if walking normally was a personal insult.
"Hikari, no more chocolate chips."
Hikari held both hands up.
"Hikari surrenders."
"Ruri, can you get another tray?"
"Yes, Papa."
Astrea watched me work.
"You know how to fix it?"
"I know how to improvise."
"That is not the same thing."
"It is when raising children."
"Hm. True."
I added a small amount of milk, adjusted the dough, and worked it back into something usable. Astrea leaned closer, eyes assessing.
"You are not completely useless."
"High praise."
"Do not become arrogant."
"I made dough less tragic. I'll try to stay humble."
Karin returned with milk and stood beside me.
"Papa, can I mix?"
"You can mix slowly."
"What if I mix fast carefully?"
"That is not a thing."
"It could be."
"No."
Astrea handed Karin the spoon.
"Stir with control. Power without discipline creates waste."
Karin nodded with complete seriousness.
"Yes, Mama."
Astrea froze for half a beat.
Then cleared her throat.
"Proceed."
Hikari climbed down from the stool and hugged Astrea's side, leaving faint flour marks on her apron.
"Mama is good at cookie command."
"I am good at all command."
"Cookie command is Hikari's favorite."
Astrea looked away.
"Hmph. Acceptable preference."
Ruri returned with the tray and started placing parchment paper neatly over it.
"Papa, should we make small cookies?"
"Small cookies bake faster."
"Hikari wants tiny spoon cookie."
"What is a tiny spoon cookie?"
"A cookie for tiny spoon."
I looked at Astrea.
She looked at me.
Neither of us had an answer.
Ruri gently said, "Maybe a small cookie shaped like a spoon?"
Hikari gasped as if Ruri had just revealed a legendary technique.
"Ruri is genius."
Ruri's cheeks pinked.
Karin leaned forward. "Can I make a sword cookie?"
"No sharp cookies," I said.
"That's discrimination against weapons."
Astrea considered it.
"A sword cookie would be structurally fragile."
Karin frowned. "True."
Somehow, baking became fun.
Messy, loud, and too early, but fun.
Karin shaped cookies with fierce concentration. Hikari made several tiny blobs and insisted each one had a name. Ruri arranged everything neatly on the tray, making sure there was enough space between each cookie. Astrea corrected shapes, adjusted sizes, and gave instructions with the strict pride of a royal chef who would deny being invested.
At some point, flour ended up on my shirt.
At another point, Hikari pressed a chocolate chip into my palm and said it was "Papa tax."
I paid.
When the first tray entered the oven, all three girls gathered in front of it like they were watching an ancient ritual.
"They're growing," Hikari whispered.
Karin crouched beside her. "Cookies evolve."
Ruri smiled. "They bake."
"Same thing," Karin said.
Astrea stood beside me, arms crossed.
"The house smells better now."
"It smelled fine before."
"It smelled like sleep and laziness."
"That's my weekend aura."
"It needed correction."
"You planned this, didn't you?"
Astrea did not look at me.
"The jar was empty."
"That is not an answer."
"It is the only answer you deserve."
I looked at her.
There was flour on her cheek.
Just a little.
A small white streak against her skin.
I almost said something.
Then I remembered survival.
Unfortunately, Hikari noticed.
"Mama has snow on her face."
Astrea blinked.
Karin laughed.
Ruri handed her a cloth.
Astrea took it with dignity.
"I was aware."
"No, you weren't," I said.
She turned slowly.
I smiled.
Barely.
She threw another pinch of flour at me.
This time, I dodged.
The girls cheered.
Astrea looked offended.
"You dodged."
"I learned."
"Coward."
"Alive."
By midmorning, the cookie jar was no longer empty.
The kitchen was mostly clean.
Mostly.
Several cookies were oddly shaped. One looked like a spoon if the spoon had suffered an accident. Karin's sword cookie had been denied but somehow became a "long rectangle cookie with command intent." Ruri's cookies were neat and even. Astrea's were irritatingly perfect.
Mine were normal.
Which, in this household, meant unimpressive.
We sat in the living room with cookies, milk for the girls, coffee for me, tea for Astrea, and One Piece playing on the television. The girls sat on the carpet near the low table, proudly eating their creation. Hikari gave the tiny spoon cookie to her actual tiny spoon, then ate it because "tiny spoon said okay."
I decided not to question it.
Astrea sat on the couch beside me, looking calmer than anyone who had commanded a flour battle had the right to look. I leaned back with my tablet, reading dungeon news again.
More fluctuations.
More reports.
Nothing immediate near us.
Good.
I took a sip of coffee and let my shoulders relax.
Peace.
Actual peace.
For about twelve minutes.
Then the doorbell rang.
I looked at the door camera.
Ruruka.
Holding papers.
A lot of papers.
My soul reacted before my body.
I sighed.
Astrea saw the camera from where she sat.
She sighed too.
The synchronized despair was unfortunate.
Ruruka entered after I opened the door, carrying a thick folder, a document tube, and a smaller bag over one shoulder. She removed her shoes properly, then looked at us with immediate offense.
"Do not sigh at me."
"I didn't say anything."
"You sighed."
"You arrived with papers."
"I had a rough time helping you with these papers."
Astrea leaned back.
"That sounds like your choice, swordswoman."
Ruruka gave her a flat look.
"I am doing this for my nieces."
"Convenient phrase."
"True phrase."
The girls noticed her and rushed over.
"Auntie Ruruka!" Hikari said.
Ruruka's expression softened instantly.
Amazing.
She could glare at demons, guild masters, and me, but Hikari saying her name could disarm her in under one second.
"Good morning, Hikari. Ruri. Karin."
Karin held up a cookie.
"We baked."
Ruruka looked at the cookie.
Then at the kitchen.
Then at the faint flour mark still on my sleeve.
"I see."
Ruri offered a neat cookie. "Would you like one?"
Ruruka accepted immediately.
"Thank you."
Hikari pointed at the living room. "We are watching pirates."
Ruruka smiled faintly. "Then keep watching. Your Mama and Papa have some things to do."
The words landed.
Mama and Papa.
Astrea's eyebrow twitched.
My coffee suddenly tasted like paperwork.
The girls, however, nodded easily.
"Yes, Auntie," Ruri said.
Karin added, "Can we eat more cookies?"
"One more each," I said.
Karin looked at Astrea.
Astrea looked at me.
"One more," she said.
Karin accepted defeat because both authorities agreed.
A minute later, the girls were back on the carpet, watching One Piece and eating cookies while the three adults moved to the dining area.
Ruruka placed the papers on the table.
The sound alone made me tired.
Forms spread across the surface. Identification templates. Residence correction documents. School record amendments. Guardian emergency contact updates. Marriage registration documents.
The last one sat on top.
Of course it did.
Astrea stared at it like it had insulted her bloodline.
I stared at it like it had insulted my future.
Ruruka sat down calmly.
"Let's begin."
Astrea crossed her arms.
"Do I truly have to do this with this mage?"
Ruruka did not hesitate.
"Yes. Sadly, he is part of the package."
I looked at my sister.
"What do you mean, sadly?"
Ruruka looked at me with the calm cruelty only younger sisters possessed.
"I feel bad for Ria right now."
Astrea's eyes shifted toward Ruruka.
"Swordswoman. You actually understand my pain, huh?"
"A bit."
I placed a hand on my chest.
"Betrayed. In my own home."
Ruruka corrected me immediately.
"In your family home."
"That sounds worse."
Astrea smirked.
"It does."
I looked between them.
"You two teaming up is illegal."
"It is efficient," Astrea said.
"It is necessary," Ruruka said.
"Same thing," they both said at once.
Then they looked at each other.
A small silence passed.
I hated it.
Bonding through insulting me was becoming a pattern.
Ruruka began briefing us with terrifying competence. She explained that Astrea's legal identity would be created under the name Ria Arclight, with a background of overseas absence, delayed registration correction, and medical recovery. It sounded suspicious. It also sounded less suspicious than the truth, which was that my supposed wife had been sealed as a Demon Queen for three years and was now eating potato chips while mothering three dragon children.
The truth was rarely useful in paperwork.
"School records will be easier once the marriage registration and residence update are processed," Ruruka said, tapping a document with her pen. "The family registry correction will support the girls' mother field. Medical and emergency contact forms follow after that."
Astrea lifted one page.
"This asks for birthplace."
"Use the overseas entry we discussed."
"This place does not exist."
"Exactly."
Astrea looked at her.
Ruruka looked back calmly.
"Small places overseas are harder to verify if records were damaged or digitized poorly."
Astrea slowly smiled.
"You are more devious than you appear, swordswoman."
Ruruka looked offended.
"I am practical."
"Same thing," I said.
Both women looked at me.
I lowered my gaze to the forms.
"Continuing."
We filled out documents.
So many documents.
My name. Her name. Address. Dates. Emergency contacts. Guardian notes. Residence confirmation. Signature. Seal. Correction request. Supporting declaration. School notification. Another signature. Another date. More initials. A statement that no information was intentionally fraudulent.
That last one stared at me.
I stared back.
Technically, almost all of it was intentionally strategic.
Not fraudulent.
Strategic.
I signed.
Astrea signed with surprising elegance. Her handwriting had a royal quality to it, smooth and sharp. She wrote Ria Arclight once, paused, then looked at the name.
"Strange," she said quietly.
Ruruka noticed.
"Does it bother you?"
Astrea's face hardened immediately.
"No."
"That means yes."
"It means do not interpret me."
Ruruka did not push.
Good.
I would have, but my survival instincts had improved.
After nearly an hour of paperwork, my hand hurt. Astrea looked personally offended by bureaucracy. Ruruka looked satisfied in the way people did when a trap worked exactly as designed.
Then she reached into her bag.
Pulled out a camera.
And smiled.
My body reacted before I understood why.
Danger.
"What are you planning to do with that, little sis?"
Ruruka's smile widened.
"Time for the main event."
Astrea's eyes narrowed.
"What main event?"
Ruruka lifted the camera slightly.
"Your wedding photo."
Silence.
I stared at her.
Astrea stared at her.
The girls cheered from the living room without even understanding the full context because the word "photo" had entered the air.
Ruruka looked far too pleased.
"Congratulations, you disgusting couple."
Astrea and I groaned at the same time.
The betrayal was complete.
Astrea's POV
I had been deceived.
Not by the mage. The mage was too lazy to execute deception properly unless it involved avoiding paperwork. Not by the children. The children were innocent, though Hikari had developed alarming persuasive capabilities.
No.
The true threat was the swordswoman.
Ruruka Arclight had arrived with documents, politeness, cookies accepted from my daughters, and the face of someone performing necessary family administration. Then she revealed herself to be a menace. A strategic menace. A paper-wielding assassin.
A wedding photo.
Absurd.
Unnecessary.
Humiliating.
Also, apparently, required.
I looked at the camera in her hand with contempt.
"No."
Ruruka's smile did not move.
"Yes."
"I refuse."
"You signed the marriage registration."
"For the children."
"And the children's paperwork will be stronger with supporting family photographs."
The mage leaned back in his chair and rubbed his face.
"Ruruka, that sounds fake."
"It is not fake. Schools, local administrators, and medical offices often ask for family confirmation informally. Photos help create consistency."
I looked at him.
"Is that true?"
The mage looked pained.
"Unfortunately, probably."
"Your society is built on harassment."
"Yes."
Ruruka placed the camera on the table.
"We need at least one proper family photo and one spouse photo."
"Spouse photo," I repeated.
The word tasted like poor decisions.
"For paperwork purposes," Ruruka said.
The mage pointed weakly.
"Those words don't make it better anymore."
"They make it legal."
"That makes it worse."
The children came running.
Of course they did.
Hikari reached me first.
"Mama and Papa photo?"
"No," I said.
"Yes," Ruruka said.
Hikari looked between us.
"Photo?"
Karin's eyes shone.
"Wedding photo?"
"No," the mage and I said together.
Ruri walked closer, hands clasped.
"Would it help with the school papers?"
Ruruka nodded. "Yes."
Ruri looked at me.
No.
Not Ruri.
Anyone but Ruri.
Her eyes were gentle. Hopeful, but not demanding. She would accept refusal. That was the worst part. Hikari's eyes forced surrender through brightness. Karin's excitement attacked with energy. Ruri's consideration made refusal feel like stepping on flowers.
I closed my eyes.
"I despise this."
The girls cheered.
The mage slumped.
Ruruka looked victorious.
I turned sharply toward her.
"Do not look pleased, swordswoman."
"I am pleased."
"Shameless."
"Learned from Nii-sama."
The mage lifted his head.
"Why am I being attacked?"
"Because you are present," Ruruka and I said together.
The children laughed.
The wedding photoshoot began as a disaster before we even left the house.
The first problem was clothing.
I thought, reasonably, that the lack of proper wedding attire would allow us to escape the worst of it. We could take a simple family photo in normal clothing, submit it to whatever foolish office required visual proof of household structure, and end the matter with minimal damage to dignity.
Ruruka opened the document tube.
Inside were photographs of dresses.
Then she opened the garment bag.
Inside were actual dresses.
I stared.
The mage stared.
Ruruka's eyes gleamed.
"Choose the one you like."
I turned slowly.
"You are annoyingly prepared, swordswoman."
"Small thing."
"This is not a small thing."
"It is smaller than a dungeon incident."
The mage looked at the suit bag she handed him.
"What is this?"
"Your suit options."
"I own suits."
"You own funeral-adjacent cloth structures."
"That was specific and hurtful."
"Choose one that matches your wife's outfit."
The room froze again.
My eyes sharpened.
"Your word choice is deliberate."
Ruruka did not deny it.
"Yes."
The mage sighed.
"Little sis, you are enjoying this too much."
"Yes."
"At least pretend."
"No."
Karin grabbed one dress photo and gasped.
"Mama would look so pretty in this."
Hikari grabbed another.
"This one is princess Mama."
Ruri looked at the selection carefully.
"This one seems elegant but easy to move in."
I looked at the dress Ruri pointed to.
Simple.
White, but not too extravagant. Light fabric. Soft sleeves. Clean lines. Not a grand wedding gown. More like a dress suited for a small ceremony or scenic photo. It had dignity without screaming.
Acceptable.
Barely.
I took it.
"This one."
Ruruka nodded. "Good choice."
The mage looked at me, then at his suit options.
"What matches that?"
Ruruka handed him a dark, clean suit jacket and trousers with a white shirt.
"This."
He stared.
"You already chose."
"Yes."
"Then why ask?"
"I wanted the illusion of participation."
"You are terrifying."
"Thank you."
The children were then told to prepare for an outing.
This created immediate celebration.
Hikari ran in circles once before Ruri stopped her.
Karin shouted, "Adventure!"
Ruri asked, "Should we bring water bottles?"
At least one child understood survival.
The mage and I changed in separate rooms. When I saw myself in the mirror, I paused.
The dress was not offensive.
That was the highest praise I was willing to give it.
It fit well. Too well, perhaps, which suggested the swordswoman had estimated my size by observation. Disturbing. The fabric moved easily, and the shape was refined enough to avoid looking like costume. My hair, I decided, would remain partly down. I adjusted it myself because I did not trust anyone else with it.
When I stepped into the living room, the girls froze.
Hikari covered her mouth.
"Mama…"
Karin's eyes widened.
"Mama looks like final boss bride."
Ruri smiled so softly that I nearly looked away.
"You're beautiful, Mama."
No.
Unfair.
All three at once was excessive.
The mage entered behind them in his suit.
Unfortunately, he looked…
Acceptable.
Better than acceptable.
The dark suit fit his shoulders properly, and the white shirt made him look less like a tired household survivor and more like someone who could stand beside me without bringing shame to the arrangement. His hair still carried traces of laziness, but that was apparently part of his character and impossible to repair without force.
He saw me.
Stopped.
Then blinked.
Once.
Twice.
I lifted my chin.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"You looked."
"I have eyes."
"Use them carefully."
He raised both hands.
"You look good."
The words were simple.
Not teasing.
Not mocking.
Not overdone.
That made them harder to deflect.
I looked away.
"Hmph. Naturally."
The children giggled.
Ruruka lifted the camera.
"Good. First location, Onjuku Beach."
The mage blinked.
"Location?"
"Yes."
"I thought we were taking photos here."
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because your living room has cookie evidence."
He looked toward the kitchen.
Fair.
Ruruka scrolled through her phone and showed us three locations.
"Onjuku Beach first. Then Yoro Ravine. Then Showa no Mori Park if the children still have energy."
Karin raised both fists.
"I have energy!"
Hikari nodded. "Hikari has outing energy."
Ruri looked at the bags. "We should pack food."
The mage and I moved at the same time.
Food. Water. Towels. Extra clothes. Hats. Sunscreen. Emergency kit. Snacks. Extra snacks for Karin because she transformed hunger into rebellion faster than most monsters transformed mana. Hikari's tiny spoon somehow ended up in the bag. Ruri's notebook too.
The mage looked at the supplies and sighed.
"This is no longer a photoshoot. This is a campaign."
I adjusted the food bag.
"Family outings require preparation."
"You sound experienced."
"I learn quickly."
The words came out before I could stop them.
The mage looked at me.
I glared.
He looked away.
Good.
We drove to Onjuku Beach first.
The sea stretched wide beneath the morning light, waves rolling in silver-blue lines toward the sand. The wind carried salt and warmth. Children cheered the moment they saw the water. Karin wanted to run immediately. Hikari wanted to touch the waves. Ruri asked if it was safe.
The mage answered before I could.
"Shoes off if you go near the water. Stay where we can see you. No running too deep. Karin, no challenging the ocean."
Karin frowned. "I wasn't going to."
Everyone looked at her.
She looked away.
"…Not immediately."
Ruruka began directing the first set of photos.
This was where the true battle began.
"Stand closer," she said.
The mage and I stood beside each other.
"Closer."
We shifted half a step.
Ruruka lowered the camera.
"You look like two guild members forced into a joint investigation."
"That is accurate," the mage said.
I nodded. "Finally, she understands."
Ruruka's expression flattened.
"This is supposed to be a wedding photo."
"It is paperwork evidence," I said.
"Make it convincing."
The mage leaned slightly toward me and whispered, "If we stand too close, will you torch me?"
"Possibly."
"That affects my posture."
"You should have better courage."
"You have fifteen percent and a temper."
"Your point?"
"My point is survival."
Ruruka rubbed her forehead.
The children, meanwhile, were having the time of their lives.
Hikari gathered shells and presented each one to me as if offering treasure. Karin ran along the shore with her skirt lifted slightly, shouting that the waves were trying to attack her feet. Ruri watched both of them carefully while smiling.
The first proper family photo happened by accident.
Hikari ran back and hugged my waist. Karin grabbed the mage's hand because a wave chased her too far. Ruri stood between us, holding a shell she wanted to show both of us. The mage looked down at Karin with amused tiredness. I looked down at Hikari despite myself.
Ruruka clicked the camera.
"Good."
The mage looked up.
"What?"
"That one was good."
"I wasn't ready."
"That is why it was good."
I disliked how often the swordswoman was correct.
The spouse photo was worse.
Ruruka positioned us near the shoreline, waves behind us.
"Nii-sama, stand beside Ria. Ria, look at him."
"I refuse."
"Look at him."
"I can see him through peripheral disgust."
The mage coughed.
Ruruka gave me a look.
"For the nieces."
Low blow.
I turned my head.
The mage looked at me.
He was trying not to smile.
"Do not," I warned.
"I didn't do anything."
"You were about to exist smugly."
"I'll exist neutrally."
"See that you do."
Ruruka clicked several photos.
In one, I stepped on the mage's foot because he leaned too close.
He winced.
Ruruka clicked again.
I heard it.
"Swordswoman."
"What? It looked natural."
The mage whispered, "Pain is natural."
I almost smiled.
Almost.
Yoro Ravine came next.
Green replaced blue. Trees arched overhead, and clear water moved between rocks beneath the ravine path. It was beautiful in a quiet way, less open than the beach, more private. The children loved it immediately. Ruri admired the water. Hikari said the trees looked like they were whispering. Karin looked for climbable rocks until both the mage and I said no at the same time.
She stared at us.
"You two are synchronized."
The mage looked offended.
"No, we're not."
I crossed my arms.
"Do not imply coordination."
Karin grinned.
"Papa and Mama teamwork."
"No," we said together.
Karin's grin widened.
Terrible child.
Ruruka directed more photos. Family walking together along the path. Children between us. One with the girls sitting on a large rock while the mage and I stood behind them. One where Hikari insisted I hold her. One where Karin demanded "cool pose" and almost convinced the mage to join until Ruri politely suggested "safe cool pose."
The mage carried the bags most of the time.
He complained.
Repeatedly.
"This is heavier than dungeon loot."
"You packed half of it," I said.
"You added food."
"The children require food."
"You added emergency food."
"Karin exists."
"Fair."
Karin shouted from ahead, "I heard my name!"
"Eat later," we both replied.
She froze.
Then pointed at us.
"Again!"
The mage sighed.
I looked away.
The ravine produced better photos than I expected.
Not because of the scenery, though that helped. Because the children stopped thinking about the camera. Hikari splashed carefully near the shallow edge while holding my hand. Ruri stood beside the mage and asked him something that made his expression soften. Karin tried to pose dramatically on a rock and had to be caught by both of us when she slipped.
Ruruka caught that moment too.
The mage holding Karin under one arm.
Me gripping the back of her dress with one hand.
Karin laughing.
Ruri alarmed.
Hikari clapping because "Karin flew."
It was not dignified.
But it was alive.
By the time we reached Showa no Mori Park, the afternoon sun had softened. The park spread wide with grass, trees, and open spaces where families moved in lazy clusters. The children still had energy because children were impossible creatures. The adults had less.
The mage looked exhausted.
Good.
I felt less alone.
Ruruka, however, remained energetic through sheer menace.
"Last location," she said.
"I hate that you sound excited," the mage muttered.
"This is important."
"This is blackmail material."
"Also important."
I looked at her.
"You intend to keep copies."
"Of course."
"For documents?"
"For family."
I paused.
So did the mage.
Ruruka adjusted the camera strap, suddenly looking away from both of us.
"My nieces should have proper photos. Not just legal evidence. Real ones."
The air shifted.
The mage's expression softened.
I looked toward the children. Hikari was showing Ruri a flower. Karin was trying to determine whether a hill could be rolled down safely.
Family photos.
Real ones.
I did not know what to do with that.
So I did nothing.
The final photos were taken under a large tree.
The children sat in front first, then pulled us down with them. Hikari climbed onto my lap before asking permission. Karin leaned against the mage but kept one hand on my sleeve. Ruri sat in the middle, touching both of her sisters.
Ruruka adjusted the camera timer and hurried into the frame for one photo.
The mage blinked.
"You're joining?"
"I am Auntie."
"True."
Ruruka sat beside the girls.
The camera clicked.
For one brief second, no one was fighting the scene.
Not the mage.
Not me.
Not Ruruka.
Not even Karin, who somehow managed to stay still.
A family under a tree.
Absurd.
Impossible.
Warm.
Then Hikari sneezed.
Karin laughed.
The mage nearly dropped the snack bag.
Ruruka clicked another photo anyway.
The ride home was loud.
The children were tired but happy, which apparently meant they became honest commentators. Ruruka sat in the back with them, camera in hand, scrolling through the photos. The mage drove. I sat in the passenger seat, arms crossed, pretending not to listen.
Hikari leaned close to the camera screen.
"Mama is super pretty."
Karin nodded. "Final boss bride."
"Do not call me that," I said.
"But it's cool."
"It is inaccurate."
Ren coughed.
I turned my head.
He focused on the road too intensely.
Ruri smiled at another photo.
"Papa looks handsome here."
The mage's shoulders relaxed slightly.
Then Karin added, "His eyes look dead though."
His shoulders dropped.
"Thank you, Karin."
"You're welcome."
Hikari pointed at another photo.
"Papa looks like he is hurting."
Ruruka zoomed in.
The mage glanced at the rearview mirror.
"Don't zoom."
Ruruka zoomed.
There, in perfect clarity, was the beach photo where I had stepped on his foot.
My heel was visibly pressing down.
His smile was visibly suffering.
Karin exploded into laughter.
"Mama stepped on Papa!"
Hikari gasped. "Mama made Papa pain smile."
Ruri tried to cover her mouth, but failed.
Ruruka nodded with satisfaction.
"This one is excellent."
The mage sighed so deeply even I felt it.
"That is not going into paperwork."
"It is going into the family album," Ruruka said.
"We have a family album?"
"We do now."
I looked out the window.
Family album.
Another strange phrase.
Another paper-thin thread tying me further into this household.
The children laughed in the back, passing the camera between them. The mage complained lazily. Ruruka looked satisfied. The sun lowered outside, turning the road gold.
I should have hated the day.
It had involved paperwork, wedding implications, uncomfortable clothing, public photographs, beach wind, ravine paths, children almost climbing rocks, and the mage standing too close to me more than once.
Instead, I felt tired.
And oddly… satisfied.
Not happy.
Do not misunderstand.
Satisfaction was different.
A completed campaign produces satisfaction. A household properly documented produces satisfaction. Children smiling after being hurt produce satisfaction.
That was all.
The mage glanced at me.
Of course he did.
"What?" I asked.
"Nothing."
"You are thinking something."
"Just that today went well."
"It was chaotic."
"That's basically our version of well."
I could not argue.
Annoying.
He smiled faintly.
I narrowed my eyes.
"Do not grow smug, Mage."
"I'm not."
"You are."
"A little."
"I will step on your foot again."
"I believe you."
"Good."
The girls laughed again in the back.
Hikari announced, "Hikari wants the photo where Mama and Papa look like anime."
Karin said, "I want the pain smile one."
Ruri quietly said, "I like the family tree one."
There had been no family tree photo.
Not technically.
But I knew what she meant.
The final one under the large tree.
All of us together.
I looked out the window and said nothing.
The mage did not either.
For once, he was wise enough to let the quiet stay.
All in all, the day was a success.
A ridiculous, exhausting, humiliating success.
But a success.
And if anyone asked, it was for paperwork.
Obviously.
*****
End of Chapter 38
Arclight Parenting Status:
Parents:
Ren Arclight — Retired Archmage / Dragon Dad / Professional Foot Victim
Ria Arclight — Former Demon Queen / Dragon Mom / Wedding Photo Denialist
Current Family Objective:
Complete official family documentation
Survive Ruruka's administrative ambush
Produce convincing "paperwork" photos
Children Under Protection:
Ruri — Ice / Emotional Anchor / Family Historian
Karin — Fire / Chaos / Professional Photo Bomber
Hikari — Light / Reality Risk / Camera Enthusiast
Today's Activities:
Completed marriage documentation
Officially adopted "Ria Arclight" identity
Survived emergency wedding photoshoot
Visited Onjuku Beach
Explored Yoro Ravine
Finished at Showa no Mori Park
Created first official family album
Captured multiple candid family moments
Successfully prevented Karin from climbing dangerous rocks
Returned home with dignity mostly intact
New Developments:
Family Album officially created
First official Arclight family portraits completed
Wedding photo successfully acquired (despite protests)
Children now possess lifelong blackmail material
Ria subconsciously accepted "family memories"
Ren discovered emotional damage can be photographed
Household Status:
Officially Documented
Photographically Verified
Hopelessly Wholesome
Parents Stress Levels:
Ren
Emotionally Attacked
Mildly Bullied
Foot Injured
Ria
Elegant
Flustered
In Denial
Parenting Skill Growth:
Ren: 66.8% (Family Memory Bonus Applied)
Ria: 55.4% (Maternal Instinct Synchronization)
Family Synergy: 71.9% (First Official Family Album Created)
Current Parents Status:
Ren
Active
Cooperative
Camera Survivor
Ria
Active
Protective
"For Paperwork Purposes"
Immediate Priorities:
Frame selected family photographs
Protect family album from Karin's sticky fingers
Hide beach "pain smile" photo from Ren
Continue building authentic family memories
Convince Ria that smiling in photos is acceptable
Operational Assessment:
Mission Type:
Family Documentation + Memory Collection
Difficulty:
Emotional Warfare
Emotional Status:
Ren
Embarrassed - Content - Quietly Happy
Ria
Satisfied - Defensive - Secretly Cherishing the Day
Future Outlook:
Family Album Expected to Grow
Children Will Request More Outings
"Paperwork" Excuse Becoming Increasingly Transparent
Ruruka Has Obtained Lifetime Blackmail Material
Domestic Happiness Escalation Guaranteed
Parents Personal Statement:
Ren:
"This is blackmail material."
Ria:
"It was for paperwork."
Reality's Response:
"The paperwork was completed... but somewhere between the beach, the forest, and the park, a family accidentally created real memories."