"Geez, fine, let's go," Makoto said as he let her down and paid for the crepe before leading her outside the shop. "I hope nobody takes a photo of a Nezuko kissing her boyfriend and posts it on social media."
That was supposed to be a joke to lighten the mood. Then, just five minutes later, they received a barrage of notifications on the X app and their group chat. "What the fuck?" they both muttered in perfect, terrified unison.
Makoto pulled out his phone. It was a firestorm now. Their new cosplay group account, HaremScaremCos (Ayane's temporary name for it), was blowing up with hundreds of notifications, mentions, retweets, and new followers.
And at the top of the feed was the reason why. It was a slightly blurry picture, obviously taken from a distance. The two of them were in the photo, mid-kiss in the crepe shop: Mika, still in her Nezuko cosplay, and Makoto, in his normal outfit (fortunately, he wasn't in the Muzan one).
The caption, from an account called @CoserGossip, was simple and devastating: "Looks like Nezuko found her Tanjiro at the mall today! So cute! <3 <3 #cosplaycouple #demonslayer #relationshipgoals."
"Oh no, what if my mom happened to see it..." Mika whispered. Her face, which had been in the shade of crimson, went completely pale.
And then, their phone buzzed again with a new message in the Yuna and The Backup group chat. It was a screenshot of the tweet followed by a single, terrifying message from Yuna
Yuna: You have ten minutes to get home. And then I'm going to kill you both. Slowly.
Mika just stared at the screen, her face turned calm after she took a deep breath. Then she started to laugh. "Oh," she gasped, wiping a tear from her eye. "This is so much better than I could have ever imagined, darling."
She looked at him, her eyes shining with a wild, unhinged light. "My mother can wait. We have more urgent things to worry about now. I think that this means you have to buy Yuna a matching Chanel wallet, too."
Makoto can't think straight even after they enter the car. "Shit, it's going to be hard for me to explain when we go back," he grunted while driving. "Tell Ayane to take the chance to PR our photobook and the pre-order she should know what to do, the Nezuko cosplay was nice anyway." He kept mumbling nonsense to hide his restlessness.
Mika sent a message after listening to his panicked rambling. Then she stared out the window with a calm, beautiful smile as she was replaying the scene in her head, savoring every detail: Her new bag, their kiss, the tweet, and the angry message from Yuna.
"...Nezuko found her Tanjiro..." she whispered to herself. She turned to Makoto, her eyes shining with overwhelming emotion. "That's us, we're a cosplay couple now, darling."
Their phone buzzed again. It was a message from Ayane.
Ayane: I'm on it, boss. Already drafting a tweet: "That's not just any Tanjiro, that's our producer! Follow us for more behind-the-scenes drama and pre-order our first photobook!"
Ayane: This is the best fucking PR we could have ever hoped for.
Ayane: Also, Yuna is currently sharpening the kitchen knives. You might want to pick up some flowers on the way home, and maybe a body bag.
"Don't worry, darling," Mika said softly. She reached over and placed a cool, gentle hand on Makoto's thigh, a gesture that was both comfort and claim. "Mika is not actually going to kill us."
She gave his thigh a reassuring squeeze. "She'll just make our lives a living hell for a few days. And then she'll demand an equal or greater date."
Mika took his hand, her fingers lacing with his. "Just let her be mad, let her scream and throw things. And when she's done, you can just kiss her and get her something better than mine."
Makoto chuckled and pecked back at Mika's lips. "Sometimes I feel like you understand Yuna even more than I do."
As the car arrived, they slowly entered the apartment. The living room was quiet, too quiet. Despite it still being after noon, the lights were off, save for the flickering glow of the television screen.
Their living room, which had been a chaotic creative workshop, was now clean and spotless. Fabric scraps were gone, patterns were neatly stacked, and the finished costumes hung on a portable clothing rack in the corner. Mafuyu was nowhere to be seen.
The air smelled of lemon-scented cleaning spray and simmering rage. Yuna was on the couch, wearing that ridiculous unicorn pajama, her back to him. She was just a small, still silhouette against the bright, chaotic colors of the anime she was watching.
Konosuba was playing on the TV. It was a comedy ecchi isekai, the kind she usually despised. The sound was off. Yuna didn't turn or move; she didn't even seem to be breathing.
Ayane was in the armchair, her phone in hand, with a grin on her face. She gave Makoto a thumbs-up. "The PR campaign is a go, boss," she mouthed silently. "We've already gotten fifty pre-orders."
Mika gave his hand a gentle, almost imperceptible squeeze. "Go on. It's your turn to calm the main wife, darling." She let go of his hand and glided silently into the kitchen with a childish grin on her face.
"Ehem, what should I do in this case..." he murmured as he sat next to Yuna on the couch. "Are you... angry, Yuna?"
Yuna didn't move. For a long, agonizing ten seconds, the only sound in the room was the silent, flickering light of the television.
And then, very slowly, she turned her head. Her eyes were completely dead and flat, devoid of all warmth or emotion. It was the kind of look a scientist gave a particularly disgusting insect just before pinning it to a board.
When she finally spoke, her voice was a soft, quiet, almost musical murmur that was a thousand times more terrifying than any scream. "Angry?" she repeated, the word a soft, delicate puff of air. "No. I'm not angry, big bro."
She turned her body to face him fully, tucking her feet neatly under her on the couch. She looked like a homicidal doll in those horror movies. "I'm happy," she continued, her voice still a chilling, gentle whisper. "I'm thrilled. No, I'm overjoyed." An utterly terrifying smile touched her lips; it didn't reach her eyes.
"Why would I be angry?" she asked, her voice dripping with lethal sarcasm. "My idiot brother took my biggest rival on a date, bought her an overpriced Chanel bag, and then made out with her in public like a pair of fucking animals. They turned our entire cosplay project into a viral meme about Nezuko finding her Tanjiro."
She tilted her head. "Why on earth," she whispered, "would I be angry about that?"