The apartment provided by Makima was suspiciously high-end—sleek, modern, and tucked away in a discreet corner of Tokyo.
But as soon as Okarun and Momo stepped inside, the "cool" atmosphere evaporated into pure, concentrated awkwardness.
"One bed?"
Momo's voice went up an octave. She pointed at the king-sized mattress in the center of the studio.
"She gave us one bed? D—does she think we are…"
Okarun was already a vibrating mess.
"A-Ayase-san, look at the nightstand. There's a... a gift basket?"
Momo walked over, expecting chocolates or maybe a map.
Instead, her eyes landed on a box of high-quality "supplies," a bottle of scented oil, and a neatly typed note from Makima: Physical intimacy is a proven method for reducing psychological stress. Please make yourselves at home. — M.
For three seconds, the room was silent. Then, they both exploded.
"STRESS REDUCTION?! IS SHE INSANE?!"
Momo screamed, her face turning a shade of red that rivaled Okarun's Sukuna-marks.
In her flustered state, her psychokinetic power spiked. The "supplies" didn't just move; they were launched with the force of a railgun.
The box flew across the room, shattered a vase, and zipped out the open window, disappearing into the Tokyo skyline.
"I-I-I'll sleep on the floor!"
Okarun yelped, backing away so fast his Turbo-engine kicked in.
"Or the ceiling! I can phase into the ceiling! It's fine!"
"Okarun, get back here! You're glowing!"
Momo yelled, reaching out to grab his hand.
But Okarun was too panicked. As he tried to manifest his Phase power to hide, the "vibration" went out of control. Instead of becoming intangible, he sank.
"GYAH!"
Okarun's legs passed through the floor as if it were water.
He plummeted through the floorboards, leaving a violet-rimmed hole in the carpet.
A second later, a muffled crash and a yelp came from the floor below.
Momo ran to the hole and peered down.
She saw Okarun sitting in the middle of a dark kitchen, surrounded by broken porcelain.
Standing over him was a very confused, very tired-looking man with a topknot—Aki Hayakawa.
"Who are you?"
Aki asked, holding a half-finished cigarette, his Fox Devil contract tingling at the strange energy Okarun was radiating.
"And why did you just fall through my ceiling?"
"I-I'm so sorry! I'm the guest from upstairs! Physics... they're very slippery!"
Okarun scrambled to his feet, accidentally "Cutting-Phased" a loaf of bread on Aki's counter into twenty perfect slices just by touching it.
Five minutes later, Momo had used her psychic hands to haul a shivering, apologizing Okarun back up to their room.
"That's it,"
Momo declared, her eyes glowing with determination.
"If Makima wants to play house, we're playing by my rules."
She dragged the king-sized mattress into a vertical position.
"There,"
She panted, tossing a pillow at Okarun's head.
"This is 'Momo Zone' and that is 'Okarun Zone.'"
Okarun huddled to his zone, clutching a blanket.
The Sukuna-markings on his skin had faded to a dull, comforting violet.
Despite the madness, being in a room with Momo—felt safer than any places.
"Ayase-san?"
"What?"
She grumbled from the other side of the barricade.
"Thanks for... you know. Purifying me back there. I don't think I could have held that power alone."
There was a long silence. Then, a soft thud as Momo leaned her back against the sofa on the other side.
"Just don't make me do it again,"
She whispered.
"And Okarun? If Makima asks... tell her we used all the 'supplies.' I want her to think she's smart so she leaves us alone."
Okarun turned a deep crimson again, burying his face in his pillow.
"Y-Yes."