The thought was a cold, possessive certainty in his mind: Yuki Souo would be his. Inevitably. Perhaps it was better this way; if she already harbored suspicions, future explanations would be less convoluted. With her profound brother complex, a successful "capture" might even render explanations unnecessary. She would weave her own justifications.
It was Yumi who presented the more delicate variable. A decade of nurtured affection, care from childhood into adolescence—these bonds were not so easily reclassified. Coupled with her traditional sensibilities, her emotional adjustment would be a turbulent process. Still, Akira mused, a problem of emotion could be solved with consistent, applied methodology. Training. With enough guided repetition, obedience—willing or otherwise—would follow.
Back in his room, after changing the sheets, Akira lay back and turned his full attention inward, to the system's interface. His personal status panel materialized before his mind's eye.
Strength: 2.8
Agility: 2.5
Stamina: 3.1
An average person's baseline was 1. Professional, peak-human training could push attributes to a maximum of 2. Anything beyond that entered a different realm entirely. And with just a single, unorthodox "training session," Akira had shattered that conventional ceiling.
Before, he was confident against three to five unarmed assailants. Now, he assessed, even if their numbers doubled and they wielded blades, he could manage. A faint, grim smile touched his lips. His original three-year plan—to make his fortune in the entertainment industry and seize control of the Souo family to spite the old man—suddenly felt less like a desperate gamble and more like a forgone conclusion. The system had just drastically lowered the difficulty setting.
[Congratulations, Host. Newbie Guidance Completed.]
[Newbie Gift Package Distributed. Open?]
Open.
[Congratulations, Host. You have received: Normal Capture Ball x2, Platinum Capture Ball x1.]
With a thought, three translucent, hovering orbs appeared in his vision. Their design—a familiar spherical shape with a distinct button and color banding—struck a chord of nostalgic absurdity. They were eerily reminiscent of the capture tools from a certain monster-battling franchise.
Tooltips scrolled beside them:
[Capture Ball Mechanics:]
1. Permanent Binding: Can capture designated target characters. Binding is permanent until the target's death. Choose carefully.
2. Recuperative Function: As long as the target is not deceased, placement within a Capture Ball will initiate healing. Efficacy scales with ball grade.
[Normal Capture Ball:]
Capture Threshold: Target Favorability ≥ 85.
Host Benefits: Dynamic gain of 2x the target's overall strength (including skills). Target's training efficiency +10%. Training limit +10%.
[Platinum Capture Ball:]
Capture Threshold: Target Favorability ≥ 80.
Host Benefits: Dynamic gain of 5x the target's overall strength (including skills). Target's training efficiency +20%. Training limit +20%.
Dynamic gain. So the power boost wasn't a static bonus but a living multiplier tied to the target's growth. The implications were staggering. If he could capture someone like the legendary hero Tornado and gain five times her reality-warping psychic power… he would ascend beyond mere human concerns in an instant.
Of course, capturing an S-Class hero was a fantasy for another day. The balls had limitations—they only worked on characters already logged in his "Heroine Index," and they required a minimum level of favorability. A flicker of disappointment passed; the thought of arbitrarily capturing any powerful figure was tantalizing. But this was potent enough. Overpowered, even.
[Ding. Chain Quest Accepted: The Purpose of Capture Balls.]
[Objective: Successfully capture a target character using a Capture Ball.]
[Reward: Normal Capture Ball x2, Platinum Capture Ball x1.**]
The system was incentivizing him to spend his resources. Each ball was a precious, permanent slot. A Normal Ball for Yumi? Her favorability was certainly high enough now, post-"guidance." But he hesitated. Perhaps a more optimal target would present itself once school began. He would scout first.
With a deep, deliberate breath, he cleared the interfaces from his mind and sought the blankness of sleep.
Sssss-
The sound of oil in the pan was a sharp, everyday counterpoint to the chaos in Yumi Souo's mind. Standing at the stove, the mundane act of cooking breakfast became a surreal theater where scenes from the previous night played on a relentless loop.
Madness. That was utter madness.
How could she, as a mother, have done those things? How could she face Akira and Yuki across the breakfast table now? The shame was a physical weight, cold and leaden in her stomach.
Yet, intertwined with the shame was a treacherous, warm undercurrent. The mere thought of Akira—his voice, his touch, the startling certainty of his actions—sent a flush of something dangerously akin to sweetness through her veins. This contradiction horrified her most of all, breeding a deep, moral sickness. He was her son, in every way that mattered, even if not by blood… especially because he was not by blood? The thought was a labyrinth with no exit.
A sharp, acrid smell pierced her reverie. The eggs!
She jolted back to the present, scrambling to salvage the burning food. In her frantic movement, the side of her slender finger brushed against the searing hot rim of the frying pan.
"Ah—!" A hiss of pain escaped her. She rushed to the sink, shoving her finger under the stream of cold water, the physical sting a welcome, simple punishment for her profound confusion. The water ran, but it couldn't wash away the memory, or the lingering, illicit heat that had nothing to do with the burn.
With a fresh band-aid on her finger, Yumi pushed through the lingering fog in her mind and methodically prepared a second breakfast. By the time the food was on the table, the usual morning routine had resumed, albeit with a palpable, unspoken tension hanging in the air.
"Huh? Mom didn't come to wake us up today?" Yuki mused, poking at her tamagoyaki before shooting a playful glance at Akira. "And you didn't come to wake me either, Brother."
Akira met her gaze evenly. "Didn't you also not come to wake me today?"
Yuki's eyes danced with mischief. She placed a dramatic hand to her forehead. "Tsk, tsk, tsk. My poor, spoiled brother. It's only been one day, and you're already complaining. What would you do if I weren't by your side in the future, hmm?"
Akira's smile was easy, practiced. "Don't worry. My adorable little sister would never have the heart to leave me."
"Stop dawdling, you two. Eat up." Yumi's voice cut through their banter, a touch tighter than usual. She set down the final plate and turned her back to them, busying herself with tidying the already-clean kitchen counter. "Starting today, Akira, you can't take the family car. You'll need to leave earlier for the bus."
As she spoke, Akira's gaze lingered on the graceful line of her back, the subtle tension in her shoulders. Almost reflexively, he called up her status panel in his mind's eye.
[Character: Yumi Souo]
[Loyalty (Affection): 82 (Highly Compliant)]
[Strength: 1.7]
[Agility: 1.5]
[Endurance: 1.6]
[Skills: Culinary Arts LV4, Household Management LV2.]
[Evolution Charge: 7%]
[Status: Melancholy]
Not bad at all.
The melancholy status was expected—a swirl of shame, confusion, and moral turmoil. But the key metric, her Loyalty (Affection), had actually increased by two points. It confirmed his hypothesis: her internal conflict wasn't directed at him, but inward. She was wrestling with her own feelings, not rejecting his actions. She was, in the system's clinical terms, "highly compliant."
Only three points left until the 85 threshold for a Normal Capture Ball. The temptation was a tangible pull, a strategic itch. He could almost visualize the orb materializing in his hand.
"Brother, did you notice something too?" Yuki's whisper was conspiratorial as she leaned close.
"Hmm?"
"Mom... she seems even prettier today, doesn't she?" Yuki's eyes sparkled with innocent, yet perceptive, curiosity.
The glow of love's nourishment? A sudden spring rain after a decade-long drought? The girl was definitely dropping a hint, whether she realized it or not.
Akira kept his voice light, deliberately pitched to carry to the kitchen. "Not at all. Mom has always been like this. Honestly, it feels like she hasn't changed a bit in the past ten years."
From the kitchen, the rhythmic wiping of the counter stuttered for a half-second. Yumi's heart gave a treacherous, painful flutter. A flicker of forbidden sweetness warmed the chill of her anxiety. Was he saying that for me to hear? The thought was immediately crushed by a wave of self-revulsion. No. I must not think this way. This is wrong.
"Ooh! That must mean I inherited Mom's excellent genes to become this cute!" Yuki declared, puffing out her chest with pride.
"Just eat your breakfast," Akira chuckled, finishing his meal with efficient speed. With a quick "I'm off," he grabbed his bag and headed out, escaping the charged atmosphere of the Souo household.
The morning air outside was a relief. Following the new rules, he made his way to the public bus stop. As he rounded the corner, a familiar, solitary figure came into view.
There, standing slightly apart from the small cluster of waiting students, was Kato Megumi. Dressed in her pristine school uniform, backpack held neatly in front of her, she existed in a bubble of quiet stillness. Her gaze was fixed on some distant point, her expression one of serene detachment, as if the chatter of the world around her was a radio broadcast from another room. She was a picture of composed, untouchable solitude.
Akira's steps slowed. The system in his mind, ever-alert, gave a soft, almost imperceptible hum. A new entry, perhaps, waiting to be logged.