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Contest Entry 2: Grayest's Magnificent Marshmallow Maids
🕑 Added 2021-11-28 19:16:51 +0000 UTCThe second entry for our Quintessential Contest, Grayest's story looks to be the longest of the bunch with our final count being almost 10,000 words! Grayest is an up-and-coming writer looking to get into the scene, and is working on a plus size Visual Novel called A Whole Lot to Love! They were extremely excited to show up for the contest, and I think all of that effort shows through with his marvelous take on our main marshmallow, Miku!
Check out their Twitter: https://twitter.com/jeremiahgrayest?t=tS7xpNFEIWv7kDFtTpG1YQ&s=09
And the Twitter for A Whole Lot to Love: https://twitter.com/plus_size_vn
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Five years.
It had been five years since Fuutarou had talked to, or even seen, any of the quintuplets.
He didn't need to. He didn't plan to.
After all, they graduated, found jobs, and went their own separate ways. They’d spread out, they’d grown up, and though he was no longer a part of their lives, he had to imagine they still kept contact with each other.
Why? Because they're quintuplets. Five parts of a whole.
Fuutarou chose to stop talking to them after graduation, finding work as a tutor elsewhere. Not because he hated them, not because they hated him, not because tutoring them was just a way for a poor kid like him to make money, but because all five of them loved him. And he couldn't bear to choose to be with one, knowing that it’d break their bond apart.
It was raining ever so slightly. Fuutarou Uesugi was on his way home to see his Father and his Sister for the first time in two years. It was his birthday, after all, and Raiha had insisted they spend it together.
The late-evening rush had the streets full of dozens and dozens of people driving home after a long day's work, with Fuutarou among the bustling traffic. The blissful lights of the city, the crowded streets of noisy vehicles, the sidewalks chock-full of pedestrians… Fuutarou wanted to get away from all the hustle and bustle. He preferred the more tranquil aura and atmosphere of the suburbs where he used to live as a young man.
Fuutarou looked at his watch, it was 10:15 PM.
'Damn... Dad and Raiha are probably waiting for me to show up any time, best to not keep them waiting too long,' Fuutarou thought.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When Fuutarou finally pulled up, a short, cheery girl greeted him by his car.
“Fuutarou! You’re finally here!” shouted his sister, Raiha, bouncing up and down on the heels of her feet.
He scratched his head and sighed. “Sorry for keeping you two waiting, but at least I made it.”
She waved her hand, reassuring him. “Don’t worry, brother. You’re an adult with responsibilities, and that's more important than showing up right on time, even if it’s your own birthday party!”
Fuutarou winced. “It's not really a birthday party. I’m too old for that sort of thing, don’t you think?” He remarked.“But of course it is!” Raiha grinned wide. “Dad is here, you have cake, and we also have a present for you. Five, in fact!”
He raised an eyebrow
“Five presents, huh?”
She nodded. “Come on, big brother!”
Raiha quickly walked back to the front door of the Fuutarou’s suburban home, her brother slowly following behind.
When Fuutarou entered, he saw his father sitting amongst four faces he never expected to see….
“Surprise!” everyone said.
Aside from his sister in front of him, five people were gathered around the dining room table. From left to right, his father sat beside Ichika Nanako, Nino Nanako, Yotsuba Nanako, and finally, Itsuki Nanako. Between them, the table was decorated with a couple bottles of wine and three platters of appetizers, most of which were already empty
Fuutarou’s emotions were a mix of shock, confusion, and genuine surprise, all of them visible on his face, even as he realized they were one sister short.
“What's up?” said the eldest Nanako sister, Ichika.
The young man turned to his sister. “Raiha, did you….? Is this….?”
“Happy birthday!” she clapped her hands rapidly, hair bouncing as she hopped with unrestrained cheer. “Yes, this is your surprise! And yes, I may have gotten in contact with all of them to come to your party…”
“It’s… I just…” he blinked, turning back to them, putting a hand behind his head, looking over the girls but hardly even registering them. “I didn’t think that… after what happened…”
A noise cut him off, harsh and stubborn and as heated as ever.
“PFFT!” Nino Nakano rose out of her chair, cocking her head to the side and folding her arms across her chest.
A tan cardigan covered her torso, worn over a horizontally stripped black-and-white blouse. It made her look bigger as she rose up to her full height, like some sort of dragon lifting herself up from a horde of cheese, crackers, and wines. The buckle of her black waistbelt glistened in the soft light of the dining room, matched only by the fire that puffed inside her blue eyes,
“If you really think we all still have the hots for you, I’m sorry to disappoint.” She lifted a finger, waggling at him and chiding, “It’s been more than five years! And not even a card?! God, seeing you here really pisses me off!”
Fuutarou’s eyebrows pinched downward. “This is my house!”
“Yeah, well, it was obvious that you were skipping out on us,” Nino huffed, rolling her eyes. Her cheeks brightened, becoming angrier and matching her bright red hair. “You must think pretty damn high of yourself. B-besides,” she turned away, the red glow fading down to a brighter pink, “m-most of us have boyfriends of our own anyways.”
Fuutarou’s narrow glare lifted in surprise, then tightened again. He noticed her bobbling and the way she wasn’t making eye contact. For a moment, he felt the momentum shift as he realized immediately the girl was hiding something, and nearly pressed by asking if most of them included her.
Instead, Fuutarou chuckled, shook his head, and smirked.
“What’s so funny?” Nino challenged, moving closer. The motion created a soft ripple on her blouse, and she suddenly looked smaller. Not fiery, but warm, as the smoldering glitter glared out from her blue eyes.
“You’re as irritating as ever,” he said bluntly. “Just feels like I stepped back through time for a moment.”
“What the hell does that mean?” she demanded, tightening her arms while her voice lifted higher. “Hey, I’ll have you know, we’re all way more mature now! I’ve totally mellowed out!!”
“No you haven’t…” whispered the girl at her hip, just loud enough that Nino very pointedly had to try and ignore her.
It was… Ichika, unless one of the others had cut their hair into the familiar style of the eldest quintuplet.
Come to think of it, most of the girls’ hairstyles still looked the same. Ichika’s was still short and chic, Nino’s was tied into the colorful twintails of her butterfly ribbons, Yotsuba wore a large pink ribbon in her slightly brighter hair, and Itsuki…
It was only then did Fuutarou really see Itsuki.
Immediately, the chubby girl whose hair reached down to her ankles brightened when his eyes snapped down to her body. Itsuki Nakano was wearing dark sweatpants and a bright tube top, and all of it was two sizes too small. Her belly muffined over the top of her pants, her exposed shoulders looked too smooth and too heavy, and the soft, sugary whiteness was becoming as red as a cherry before she shouted out, “My eyes are up here, you know!”
“Oh, give him a break,” Ichika said, slyly smirking as she twirled her glass. “You said it yourself, it’s hard not to notice your stomach in that. The outfit makes you look chubby.”
“Every outfit makes Itsuki look chubby,” Nino teased.
“H-hey!!” the chubby girl further brightened. “You’re supposed to be taking my side here!!”
“Alright, calm down all of ya,” his father’s voice cut across them, strong and tight. He looked like he’d dressed up, meaning the black v-neck he wore didn’t have any holes, but still showed the strength of his blue-collar work. “Let the kid take a seat. Somebody get the boy a drink so he can stop putting his foot in his mouth.”
“I’ve got it!” said the fourth quintuplet. Yotsuba shot up out of her seat like a red bolt of lightning, her firm physique highlighted further as she reached past Itsuki and her soft belly to take the bottle of wine and the empty glass.
Nino moved to Fuutarou’s side, putting an arm behind him and guiding him forward to a seat at the table. “Hey, I haven’t even taken my shoes off,” he protested.
“Yeah, I noticed,” she grumbled. “Look like you were about to run out the front door. No appreciation, gosh.”
Yotsuba slid the glass on his table to him as he took his seat between Itsuki and his father, feeling crowded by pudge on one side and muscle on their other. It made him feel smaller than he was, reminding him of a failed resolution he’d made to work out more.
Nino bopped him on the head, not hard but enough to know that she was pretty frustrated, but Nino seemed the type that would always be… Her belt didn’t fit.
The cardigan had hid most of it, as had her blouse covering her shoulders while her skirt covered most of her thighs, but as she reached past him to take a cracker from the platter that sat on the table, Fuutarou saw how her belly tucked into a soft roll of pudge on her waist.
When she pulled back, his eyes locked with Itsuki, who was perfectly miming a Nino-like glare. “It’s good to see you, Uesugi-kun,” her voice said tightly while her eyes dared him to dip his sight to her softness.
“You know,” his father leaned over him, slicing across the pudgy tension, “I can hardly even tell them apart. I keep needing to ask Itsuki here who is who,” he said, gesturing to someone who wasn’t Itsuki.
Ichika shook her head. “It’s not like we’re playing musical chairs!” she complained, though it was in a cheerful, jovial voice. “I’m Ichika! You can tell because I’m the cutest.”
Three other voices protested, but Fuutarou’s father was returning a soft laugh and lifted his drink. “Oh, is that how it is? That should help me remember.” He then turned from Ichika straight to Itsuki. “So, Ichika, since you’re the cutest, who’s the least cutest?”
Itsuki’s blush covered her entire body, and there was a lot extra to cover, while both Nino and Yotsuba broke into delighted laughter while Ichika snorted and rolled her eyes.
“I-I’m not…” Itsuki played with her fingers. “I mean… umm… thank you, but I’m not the cutest.”
“Oh?” Isanari winked. “You could have fooled me.”
“Good lord,” Fuutarou sagged back in his seat. “You always hit on girls half your age?”
“Only the cute ones,” his father grinned, this time thankfully earning a whap on the head from Raiha while the quintuplets giggled.
“Dirty old man,” Raiha grumbled, circling the table to take a seat between Ichika and Nino, who had finally returned to her own.
Fuutarou took the glass and drank deeply. A bright white wine, too fruity for Fuutarou who preferred a darker rosé.
They were here. They were really… here. It wasn’t his imagination, or else he’d probably make the wine taste better. It was missing something… something a bit dryer. Thicker, heavier, but something soft-spoken.
He didn’t ask where Miku was at.
Instead, he turned to Ichika, who was topping a cracker with a single slice of cheese. “How’ve things been?” he asked the eldest.
Ichika bit her cracker in half, holding a hand over her mouth while she chewed. “They’re good for me!” she closed her eyes in a graceful grin. “I’m still acting-”
“I saw,” he nodded. “You were in that comedy movie. With the puppet.”
“That was a horror movie,” Ichika laughed. “And that only came a few months ago! You’re not stalking me, are you?” Her grin sharpened, bringing her fingers to her lip in a way that drew his attention.
“Obviously not very well if he can’t even remember what the name was,” Nino cut across, leaning over to take another cracker and stacking it with two pieces of cheese. Now that he’d seen it, he kept looking towards that little lip of her belly that pinched against her tight belt.
“Awe, give him a chance,” Ichika responded. “I’m just flattered he’s still thinking of us…” she turned back to him. “Do you remember?”
Fuutarou gulped. “I… haven’t seen it… yet.”
“Big brother’s a cheapass,” Raiha said, teenage mischief twinkling in her playful eyes. “He only goes to the two-dollar theater that runs shows a year late.”
From her side, Nino shrugged. “Nothing wrong with saving money,” she said.
Ichika never broke her contact with Fuutarou. “I guess I’ll just need to make sure you come to the premier next time~”
The girl had such a way of getting under his skin. He felt himself blushing, being the first to look away from the girl, only to center on another, who got under his skin in a far worse way…
“What, are you just going in order?” Nino rolled her eyes, talking with her mouth full. “I’m doing fine, too. Obviously. I helped bake your cake, so, you’re welcome.”
Fuutarou blinked at her.
“I said you’re welcome!” she glared.
“I’m waiting to see if it’s any good,” he said in a deadpan tone. “For all I know, you could have poisoned it.”
“I would never!!” Nino huffed.
“I helped!” Raiha said brightly.
“You helped poison it?”
“HEY!”
“I-I helped too…” Itsuki’s voice came from his right. “Raiha picked the flavor. Nino did most of the work, but it was a group effort.”
“Yeah,” Nino brushed her hair over her shoulder. “I told ya! Ungrateful. Stubborn. He hasn’t changed at all!”
Fuutarou would have replied, but he was surprised by the tone. The words were rude but as he looked at the girl, he saw something else. A challenging grin had spread over Nino’s soft face.
It made Fuutarou avert his eyes, turning now to Yotsuba. “And how about you?” he asked.
“Eh?” Yotsuba turned, spinning to look behind her as if she thought he’d been talking to somebody else.
As she did, she lifted her left hand to tap against her chest, and a twinkle on her finger caught Fuutarou’s eye.
“M-me?” she asked, turning back. “Oh! Well, Uesugi-kun, I’ve been…” Yotsuba paused, noticing he was still looking at her hand, and the ring on her finger.
“I told you we’d moved on!” Nino huffed, reaching over to pull the platter of hors d'oeuvres closer to her. “Yotsuba got engaged four months ago.”
The brightest quintuplet glowed with a bashful blush, and though she acted clearly reserved, it was also obvious that she was very excited. “Y-yeah. I’ve been working at a high school as a track coach. After graduation, I lived with our dad, but Itsuki helped me with applying and now… I’m a teacher, in my own way.”
Something inside of Fuutarou ached. It wasn’t a bad pain. In fact, he felt himself smiling, feeling warm even with the twinge in his chest.
They really had moved on past him.
“That’s really great to hear,” Fuutarou nodded. “I’m happy for you.”
“T-thanks,” Yotsuba took in a shaky breath. “I’m not used to being the center of attention, but I think I’ve gotten… better, at expressing myself.”
“You’ve been doing great!” Itsuki cheered. “You’ve always learned best by being hands on! It’s no surprise that you’re doing so well in the field!”
“I thought she was teaching track?”
“You know what I meant!!”
Fuutarou turned to her next. The youngest quintuplet. The chubbiest quintuplet. Heck, the chubbiest girl he’d seen in a while. “And you?” he asked.
Itsuki hopped in her seat as the spotlight suddenly spun to illuminate her rubenesque figure. When she landed on her rear, the seat audibly creaked. “Well,” she said, eyes fluttering before she started playing with her hands. “I-it’s not been so easy on my avenue… I-I’ve got a blind date this weekend that a friend set up, but I-”
“I mean for work,” Fuutarou interrupted.
Itsuki stared at him before fixing her glasses, cheeks glowing. “OH! Yes, well, that’s… that’s totally different! I own my own restaurant now!”
Fuutarou’s eyes fell to her pudgy potbelly.
“It’s a lot more work than I’d originally thought,” Itsuki said, now animatedly wiping at her glasses, “and I’m still doing food critic work for a magazine, but it’s a lot of fun, too! I own the establishment just down the street from Miku’s.”
“That’s how I found her, actually!” Raiha interjected. “I was looking for presents in the Akihabara market, but wasn’t really seeing anything, until I suddenly had DeJa’Vu. I’d gone right past Nino standing outside with Itsuki and nearly walked straight into Miku!”
“Miku owns a restaurant?” he asked.
All five girls at the table blushed, none of them meeting his eyes. There was a soft chorus of ‘something like that…’s from each of the girls.
“She had to close tonight,” Itsuki said hurriedly. “She wanted to come, but she-”
“Business is business,” Isanari chimed in, leaning on Fuutarou. “Let’s face it, you’re hardly the center of the universe.”
“Dad! You can’t say that on his birthday!!”
There was a chorus of girlish laughter around him, but Fuutarou just slowly circled his drink. Ichika was following her dreams. Nino, Yotsuba, Itsuki, and Miku. They’d all grown up so much, but he…
He was just Fuutarou.
He took a sip from his wine.
He was happy for them, truly. But as the night advanced and Nino brought out the cake, as he smiled and accepted their various cards and placed them in a stack to open later on, the taste of the too-sweet wine clung to his tastebuds like a bitter statement.
It was late already, and some of the girls left soon after the cake had been cut. He had nearly finished his slice without even noticing the flavor, a nice vanilla cream atop of red velvet mixture.
He was happy for them, but a selfish part wished he was happy with himself.
A hand clapped on his shoulder, and Fuutarou found himself being forcefully turned. He hadn’t noticed that the table had been emptied, that the others had gone to sit on the couch near the tv and the fireplace. Now, it was only him, and the soft blue-eyed fire that was Nino Nakano.
“Don’t go running off this time, alright?” she asked.
He didn’t know how to respond.
“Everyone here’s happy to see you. Itsuki and Yotsuba have been talking about it all week, and you should have seen Miku when she learned she couldn’t get off work.”
Nino sat down in the chair at his side, fingers gently separating the pile of cards until she came up with a bright blue envelope.
“She made me promise to make sure you’d get her card,” the girl said, “and to make sure you read it.”
“I was going to,” Fuutarou started to lie before frowning at himself and sighing. “Just… later on.”
“Like I said,” Nino gave a smirk that didn’t reach her eyes. “You haven’t changed. Here. Open it.”
Fuutarou took the card. He held it, looking at it. “You haven’t changed much either,” he said.
Nino sat back, lifting one leg to cross over her other. “That’s cause I like who I ended up being. Had some pretty nice help with that, as did the others.” This time, her smile did meet her eyes. She had nice eyes.
They all did.
“Read the damn letter,” she prompted.
Fuutarou opened it.
The blue envelope revealed a blue and white card. The cover was a dozen circles and bubbles around a cheerful handwritten script that read Happy Birthday.
He opened it, seeing that the handwriting inside matched.
Fuutarou,
Sorry that I couldn’t make it to your party. Please believe that I tried really hard. I wish that I could have. I hope that Itsuki and Nino didn’t eat all of your cake… They tend to not be very… self-aware, if nobody’s there to remind them that they’ve gone overboard.
Fuutarou looked up to see the crumbling remains of what had once been an impressive cake. He turned to Nino.
“What?” she asked, flecks of frosting lightly clinging to her pudgy cheeks.
He shook his head, feeling a true chuckle bubbling inside of his stomach, and smiled, turning back to the card.
I know it’s been a while since everything happened. I’d… like to talk about all of that. Sometime, if you want to. If you don’t, I understand, but I’ve spent a lot of time thinking, and not enough talking. And thought that you might feel the same.
If you get a chance, I’d like to see you. Nino and Itsuki work together just down the street from my café in Akihabara, maybe we can all meet up. I think that’d be nice.
I’m looking forward to you apologizing for missing my birthday for too many years.
-Miku Nakano
And then, just beneath her signature, Miku had drawn a trio of blue-colored hearts.
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Akihabara was lively and vibrant.
Fuutarou had only visited the area once or twice in his lifetime. It really wasn’t for him. It was a place for otakus and weeaboos, nerds and geeks, gamers and gamblers, whereas he much preferred a place like the library, or even a bookstore. When he did buy games, he bought them online, or when he did watch anime, it was just because that’s what was on television.
It was 4:30 PM. Fuutarou sat at a table right outside the small restaurant Nino and Itsuki worked, patiently waiting.
‘Just how long am I expected to wait out here anyways? I’m sure Itsuki said she’d show up at 4:00 PM,’ Fuutarou thought.
A large clap came from the nearby entrance. Nino, who was wearing a pink work apron, forced the door open. “Are you just gonna sit there?”
Fuutarou sighed, “I’m waiting for Itsuki, she said she’d be here.”
“She’s inside…”
He rose out from his chair
“Why didn’t you say so?!”
Nino shrugged, putting a hand on her hip. “How the hell am I supposed to know what you’re up to? Could have just sat inside like a normal person. Come on,” she waved him after her.”
Fuutarou rolled his eyes and entered the store.
Itsuki was sitting beside the front counter. She wore a dark pair of pants and a cherry red top that had a graphic of a bunny over her left breast. It was a chubby bunny, on account of how wide it’d been stretched. “There you are! I was wondering when you were gonna show up. You’re late!”
Nino rolled her neck back. “God, you two. You’re late, he’s a moron.” She reached behind her back, undoing the bow of her apron. “Can you two just get going already? I gotta make myself something. Haven’t eaten since lunch and it’s driving me mad.”
Fuutarou, confused, checked his watch before the apron dropped and revealed a button-down blouse that was even tighter than Itsuki’s shirt. It made him wince, almost as badly as the noise from Itsuki’s seat as she hopped up from her chair.
With a notable waddle, Itsuki came up to his side. “Ready?” she puffed.
“I hope it’s not too far of a walk…”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As the two went down the street, they passed store after store, seeing more stretching out even further beyond. From electronic shops selling all sorts of games and systems, to others selling card games, to even stores that sold all sorts of media merchandise.
The nearby buildings had all sorts of large electronic billboards advertising the nearby establishments. It’s no wonder the place was nicknamed Japan’s ‘electric town.’
When Itsuki and Fuutarou turned a corner, they moved away of the commercialized shops and towards the quieter food market. Almost every single cafe was a maid cafe of some sort, most of them being a standard maid cafe of some sort, but a small handful were specially themed. From a cat-girl themed cafe to a ninja-girl themed cafe, to a cafe where muscle-girls seemed to be forcing customers to work out and drink protein shakes.
Even though Fuutarou was visually weirded out by some of what he saw, he noticed Itsuki didn’t bat an eye. It must be something she was used to, and saw on a daily basis.
Suddenly, a maid walked up to him from the left.
“Hello, master! Would you like to come to our cafe? We have a special deal going on today!”
“Err, no I- I think I’m good. Thank you.” Fuutarou quickly stuttered.
The maid smiled and walked to another bystander, probably to ask them the same thing.
Fuutarou and Itsuki made their way further and further down, and started to see more maids on the streets advertising their respective shop. Eventually, they found themselves outside a shop with an extremely overweight maid standing outside. Her face lit up as she turned to Itsuki.
“Why Hello, Miss Nanako, who might this be?”
“Hey, Rika” Itsuuki greeted cheerfully. “This is Fuutarou Uesugi! He’s…” Itsuki paused, looked up to Fuutarou, then blushed, turning back to the girl. “N-no, not like that! Don’t get the wrong idea, he’s just a friend!”
The woman lifted a hand to her lips to cover her grin. Her outfit fit better than Itsuki’s did, the apron around her waist and the stocking on her legs looking comfortable as opposed to Itusuki’s tight clothing, but the girls were almost the same size. It was boggling to Fuutarou, so much so that he nearly missed the woman’s reply.
“I thought this might be another one of your blind dates,” the girl giggled. “But he doesn’t look like the type who’ll run and leave Miss Itsuki with the bill, does he?”
“God,” Itsuki grumbled, wrapping her hands protectively around her middle, “don’t remind me. Miku’s never going to let that go, is she.”
The maid, Rika, grew her grin to be almost as plump as she was. “I shouldn’t think so, no. She’s inside.”
“Good, good,” Itsuki sighed, her tummy pushing against the band of her skirt. “Is there a wait?”
From a pocket on her dress, the maid took out a small palm-sized tablet with a smartpen strapped to the top. She removed the pen, flipping open the tablet and giving Fuutarou a chance to speak up.
“You know the staff here on a first name basis?” he inquired.
Itsuki shrugged. “Of course. I know a lot of people in a lot of shops.”
“Are they mostly restaurants?”
Itsuki turned, leering at him. “I come to see Miku like every week, okay? They make really good parfaits here.”
“Mhm,” mumbled Fuutarou, turning back to the maid.
She was frowning at her screen, the ten fluttering between her playful chubby fingers. “Where in the world did I…” she mumbled before taking a hefty breath.
Rika carried most of her weight in her stomach, with noticeably chubby arms, plump legs, and a softness in her face that made her look like a chubby chipmunk. She looked like a girl who should be outgrowing her clothing but, despite that, had an air of comfort that exuded from her and her cute uniform.
“Ah!! Yes, there we go!” she said, tapping her pencil against the tablet. “A table for two, right? I can get you in right away.”
“Excellent,” Itsuki nodded. “And, obviously, we’re here to see Miku. If you could send her over…?”
“Of course!” Rika cheerfully bounced, a motion which did… interesting things with her figure. Then, she turned on one foot, took a pair of paper menus from a stand near the front, and led the pair in through the doorway labeled with ‘Heavenly Heavies Cutie Café’ in chubby, bold text.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The inside of the café was softly lit, with bright colors illuminated by orange-glowing light fixtures. A dark tile floor clashed with the pastel walls in a way that made it look like a fast-food restaurant, but looking at the layout made it clear that this was a part of the café’s theme. Pink decorations framed the way up towards a front counter, behind which kitchen staff could be seen bustling about the grills and tables, openly preparing food for with a small line of customers waiting for to-go orders.
Rika led them up, past the counter, and down a small lane with pink and blue decorations adorning the walls and countertops. A small chubby bunny wearing a bright blue maid outfit seemed as if she was waving to Fuutarou as their group passed into the dining area, and he felt half-tempted to try and wave back.
The seating didn’t seem too crowded, especially not for nearly five in the evening. He wondered if the café was lunch or even breakfast focused, only then seeing one of the occupied tables had been taken by maids who were dressed to be part of the restaurant staff. They were giggling, grinning, and they were all eating.
Fuutarou had never seen a restaurant allow uniformed staff to eat in the lobby with its patrons, but these girls were sitting at a table that looked as if it was intentionally placed directly in the center of the room to draw everyone’s eye. Which it did, because the girls there were unbelievably fat.
Round, big-bellied, fat-chested, with smooth and soft shoulders and grinning double-chins, the girls chatted with one another as they ate from a table that was littered with food. Plates had been stacked in the center, towers reaching up towards a foodie-stuffed high, and girls of different shapes and sizes kept piling them on, all of them easily over two hundred pounds.
“Here you are,” Rika said, turning to a table near the side of the partition. Stuffed animals sat on the wall above it, while extra-stuffed maids sat just across the aisle like some sort of show.
There were pudgy girls, thick girls, and big blubbery piggies with tummies that bounced between bites and with laughs. Jiggling gelatin, squishy centers, and a seemingly unending hunger as the girls coo’d with delight when a pack of four other maids came out from the kitchen with plates full of food for the piggie pack. “A… chubby café?” Fuutarou asked, turning from the tummies back to Itsuki.
Itsuki rolled her eyes and grinned. “Well, duh. Didn’t you read the sign?” she nodded towards the center.
Fuutarou looked. He’d missed it before but with his attention directed, he saw the chalkboard decorated in familiar handwriting. ‘On Duty Marshmallows’ was underlined at the top, with a list of five names beneath written in their own colors and scripts. Then, Fuutarou noticed the colors of chalk matched with maids who each wore a uniquely colored uniform.
Fuutarou blinked at the sign, then turned back to Itsuki, who had taken her menu and was looking it over.
He picked up his own, noting the gushy, blushy, cartoon animals labeling it, pointing out favorites or eating chibified dishes. He hardly even read the menu, looking instead at the characters while out of the corner of his eye he stared at the women.
One of the girls, a big and beefy blonde, took a massive burger inside of both of her hands. Lettuce, tomatoes, and nearly an entire pound of heavyweight beef. The burger dripped with ketchup and grease in a way that made Fuutarou almost uncomfortable as the woman brought it up to her wide mouth and took a massive chomp. Her blue eyes opened before rolling back in her head and, through all of the beef, she let out a groan of gluttonous delight and melted back in her seat.
“I’m thinking of getting a burger,” Itsuki said. “What about you?”
Fuutarou was thinking the exact same.
Then, he felt something. A tremor, a vibration, a slight wobbling thump that the man felt in his feet. He turned to his left, seeing the wall, and the slightest of movement as the next thud came from its other side. He noticed the bunny up top gently shake once, twice, then a third time before a woman turned around the corner, belly-first.
Unlike the others, whose maid outfits were always black with highlighting colors, her outfit was entirely blue throughout. Dark, the color of the deepest sea, was the main color, with a bright sky teal for the ribbon that was tied around her full belly, as well as the frills on her dress and the bright cuffs of her gloves. A bright blue necktie circled her neck and the top of her shoulders like a frilly choker, pinched by the fat on her chin against the fat of her shoulders and bringing attention to just how little neck remained.
Deep cleavage was exposed in a fleshy window of fatty breasts, which wobbled most eye-catchingly as the woman turned the corner, settled just atop of her fatty stomach. The stomach hadn’t outgrown her breasts, not yet anyways, but it was getting so close that the pinched ribbon on her navel might really be the only thing holding it back.
Fuutarou didn’t even see her red hair, her recognizable face, nor the pair of blue headphones set around the choker until Miku’s husky voice tiredly sighed. “Good evening, Itsuki. Rika said you…”
Then, Miku froze. It took a few moments to her body to stop jiggling, wide blue eyes growing wider and wider as her eyes settled on Fuutarou. Slowly, the large woman’s ghostly pale skin became colored by a rising, chubby blush.
She looked as if she were heavier than both Fuutarou and Itsuki put together. Not as heavy as some of the marshmallow girls, but still… Miku’s outfit could barely hold back the tide of her chest, hid none of the weight in her belly. It was made to show off how hammy and plush her arms had become, with the gloves looking awkwardly pinched on her chubby sausage fingers.
She stood completely, totally still, a rabbit who heard the cry of a hawk.
“Hey, Miku!” Itsuki said cheerfully, turning to wave. “I brought Fuu-”
In an explosion of jiggly movement, so chubby and fat that Fuutarou could hear her wobble, Miku dashed forward, gloved hands grabbing Itsuki by the shoulder and hauling her bodily out of her seat.
“Aie!” Itsuki screamed. “Miku!!”
Miku pulled, face set in an alarmed blush, and together the sisters disappeared around the corner, thunder slamming through the vibrating floor as they ran down the path, Itsuki still shouting in a wobbly protest.
Fuutarou sat there, still staring at where Miku had stood, where her cleavage had dropped when she’d snatched at her sister, blushing to himself before a loud ‘THUD’ shook the wall at his side and the chubby blue plush animal fell down from the wall and into his lap.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Aiiie! Miku, let go! You’re gonna bruise my hip!!”
Miku kept moving.
They wobbled past a couple of counter waitresses, snacking on appetizers and mini-samples of desserts, and into the kitchen. “Woah, hey, boss!” called one of the cooks, but Miku kept moving, not even hearing him over the pounding of blood that had flooded her ears.
When they got to the back, she all but tossed her chubby little sister into the wall, her voice an alarmed whisper, “Why would you take him here?!? Why wouldn’t you tell me!!”
Itsuki sighed. “The other girls and I went to see him for his birthday recently, I figured it would only be fair to take him to see you. ”
Miku’s large blue eyes wavered, eyelashes fluttering before looking down at herself and then back to her sister. “A-are you… Itsuki, look at me!!” Her hands gripped the window near her overweight breasts, which bobbled and jiggled as she tried to lift it and conceal her cleavage. “I would have at least worn a better costume…” she said, releasing the top and then melting when her breasts bobbled back up. “Nothing fits anymore!”
Itsuki’s long breath became a slight half-smile. “Come on. You’re chubby! That’s, like, the new in thing, isn’t it?”
Miku’s mouth folded. “You’re chubby,” she specified. “I’m the size of a…”
She left the rest unsaid.
Itsuki stepped forward, lightly hugging her big sister.
“You’re beautiful, Miku. Your weight doesn’t bother anybody. Heck, you made a living out of it now!”
“My ‘living’ is making my weight worse…” Miku replied, though her arms returned the hug. “It’s just… I own a sweater… I could have…”
“Well, it’s too late for that!” Itsuki replied. “If you tried to hide your weight, it’d just make you look nervous, wouldn’t it?”
Miku glared. “I am nervous.”
“You’ll be fine!” Itsuki patted her on the back before standing straight, arms still over Miku’s shoulders. “And, I checked. He’s still single~”
Miku’s glare became even more narrow before she looked away, a hint of pink in her blush. “I didn’t ask…”
“I know!” Itsuki returned a sharp grin. “Hey, think of it this way,” she said, reaching down to pinch a handful of Miku’s fatty love handle. “At least you can show him how well you can cook!”
Miku stared at the hand, horrified by just how much chub there was before her younger little sister bopped her on the nose with her finger and, potbelly quivering with laughter, Itsuki walked back out towards the front.
Only a moment passed before she popped back around the corner, a hand covering her own sizeable tummy. “And make sure it’s something tasty!” she chirped. “Miss May is hungry!”
And then she was gone.
The café owner was left all alone in the back of her bustling kitchen. A few feet away, her closed office had a bag with emergency sweatpants and a black-and-blue hoodie. She’d ripped more than a few threads in her time, bursting multiple buttons as well as the strap of one waistbelt. But, the truth is, she hadn’t even checked the size of those clothes in nearly a year. They’d been extra-large when she got them, but Miku Nakano was much more than just extra-large now.
The girl took in a long, husky breath, holding it in her tummy before finally setting it free, then she clapped her gloves together and brushed her hair back behind her ears.
Time to go to work.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She was moving too slow. Like a big fat girl, a chubby butterball, a round redhead with a fat tummy and fat thighs and fat arms that had little folds near her-
Why did he have to look like that? Why did he have to look like the same boy that she’d fallen for all those years ago?
It was all in his eyes. He had such handsome eyes, the color of a spring ocean morning, and there was so much inside them. Deep, intoxicating, and when Miku felt him look at her, it was as if all time had slowed to a crawl. She felt like the center of a chubby universe, and not just because she felt as heavy and round as a red giant sun.
“Y-y-your… shakes…” Miku said, hand gently quivering as she placed the tray onto their table. “I got… it’s double chocolate fudge,” she stammered, giving Fuutarou his. “I remembered you liking chocolates…”
“Uhhh,” Itsuki said, taking the other shake from the tray. She looked at it from side to side, red hair wavering with her pudgy confusion.
“Yours is Oreo,” Miku said.
“I… got that,” Itsuki replied, holding it up, “but it’s half-empty.”
“I drank it.”
“Oh…”
Miku’s tummy gurgled with quiet digestion, the chill doing nothing to calm the overworking furnace that boiled the air in her lungs.
“C-can I take your orders?” she stuttered, and he smiled at her, with those wonderful eyes.
“Well,” Fuutarou said, “Itsuki was saying you might sit with us? If you have the time, of course. I’m sure running a business-”
The chair slapped down at the side of their two-person table before Miku knew she had taken it. She sat in it as the on-duty marshmallow maid behind her realized she was now sitting on nothing but air and tumbled onto her extremely plush rear with an overweight “KYAAAHHH!”
“I-I got time,” Miku said, her quiet voice tight.
“Oh, goodness!” Itsuki popped up out of her seat, trundling towards the prostrate maid to offer a much-needed hand.
“Did you get my card?” Miku asked, completely unaware of the commotion behind her.
Fuutarou, who’d been peaking over her shoulder, turned back to her, eyes flutter. “Oh, uhh, yeah. Thanks. It was really nice.”
“Sorry that I couldn’t come,” Miku blushed. She reached to the side, taking the rest of the Oreo milkshake. Mixing the ice cream with the long metal spoon, she explained, “I thought that you might not…”
“The card was really nice,” Fuutarou scratched at the back of his head. “I could see what you meant about Nino and Itsuki….”
“They’re not very self-aware,” Miku said before sipping on the milkshake.
Behind her, her worker gasped for breath as several stiches gave out on her corset when she tried to sit up, belly packed with cake and sweets. In perfect sequence, Itsuki Nakano’s hands flew to her own waistband as a loud *ping* sounded from her skirt, button flinging free when she bent at the waist.
Almost everyone noticed the two panicked shouts of overweight women at the center of the chubby café, but Miku held Fuutarou’s eyes all to herself. The butterflies in her chest fluttered higher and higher, turning round and around her beating heart until she realized that she was drinking ice cream from the straw in one single pull. Crumbs of chocolate cookies mixed with heaps of vanilla made a small hill out of her round tummy, but all of the air was making a valley of cleavage in her fatty chest.
The taste came to her all at once, delicious whipped cream and heavy vanilla, the texture of the broken-up Oreos so generously heaped. The large straw brought all of it up into the chubby quintuplet, sucking down mouthful after mouthful without even noticing because she’d been frozen in time by his wonderful eyes.
She broke off, gently coughing as the trail of ice cream was still falling down her throat, turning away from his eyes. “S-sorry,” she said. “I still… I get a bit…”
A hand appeared on her shoulder, and she looked up into Fuutarou’s calmness. “Nervous?” he asked before shrugging. “Hey, it’s alright. I’m just happy to see you.”
Miku’s pink blush calmed a tad, the infectious tranquility spreading back over the chubby white gaps in her costume. “I’m happy to see you too… Fuutarou…” she whispered, reaching up to touch his hand.
Then another hand tapped her left shoulder, and Miku turned to Itsuki, who was holding the hem of her skirt in both of her hands, fighting against the unrelenting tide of her overweight waist. “D-do you have a sewing kit anywhere?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“You know, she can run really fast for a girl so…”
“Overweight?” Fuutarou suggested.
“Chunky,” Miku substituted. “Overweight’s not a cute word.”
“Look away, please! T-there’s nothing to see!”
Fuutarou hadn’t been aware that chunky was a cute word, but as he watched Itsuki scamper down the sidewalk, wearing a maid costume that fit even worse than her outfit had, and with a miniskirt that came only down to the tops of her thighs, it was becoming more and more apparent that he wasn’t aware of very many things.
The girl waved her hands in front of her as if that’d clear out the crowd, when her body was doing a much better job of slicing straight through. Itsuki’s tummy bulged out of the front of her corset while overweight sides peaked out from every other thread. Her shoulders were uncovered, the stockings couldn’t reach up past the lip of fat in her knees, which made it appear like she was concealed more by her hair than any of the fabric.
“So…” Fuutarou started, not knowing where he was going.
“So…” Miku seemed to agree with his nothing, standing at his side and watching as Itsuki turned sideways, hurriedly stepping over herself in a way that looked like it was meant to hide her bottom from sight.
All it did was end up with her colliding with a group of much skinnier men, who the chubby Itsuki rolled through and scattered like a set of bowling pins. They could hear her shout “Sorry!” from all the way down the street before turning and fleeing, the rapid movements making the tight outfit begin to self-destruct.
“Did you really not have a bigger costume?” he asked.
Miku shrugged. “Of course I did.”
Fuutarou watched her for a moment, saw the blunt honesty in her soft face as she still watched the horizon, and felt himself chuckle. “How cruel.”
Another shrug. “That outfit fit me when I first opened this place. That it doesn’t fit her means that she’s been coming too often.”
Fuutarou nodded, looking back towards where Itsuki had fled even though she was already gone. The pack of boys was still getting up from the ground.
“And Nino?” he asked.
The blue-clad maid seemed to think about that for a moment before saying, “Nino can be her own worst enemy. But she always tries to help out the people around her.”
She turned up, looking at Fuutarou with her soft blue eyes. He didn’t notice her body, barely registered the light touch of her blush. The timidness that she’d displayed when she’d first seen him seemed to have melted like the milkshake that she’d slammed through so quickly.
“I missed you, Fuutarou.”
Fuutarou couldn’t help it. The ache in his chest was too strong, too present. When he opened his lips, he hesitated, not knowing how to say it. Not knowing how to say anything.
But Miku waited. She didn’t jump, didn’t dig. She didn’t snap, or push. Miku just waited.
“I missed you too, Miku,” Fuutarou finally nodded. “I’m sorry. For… everything.”
A moment passed. Another. Then, Miku had reached out and taken Fuutarou’s shirt by the sleeve and, without really pulling, began to lead him away.
“Where are we going?” he asked, not noticing he didn’t even think about not following the girl in her tight-fitting attire.
“I’m going on break,” she said, “and you’re coming with.”
For the second time that evening, looking down at the thighs of progressively chubbier girls, Fuutarou hoped that it wasn’t too far.
He wasn’t sure when she had stopped leading them and when they’d simply started walking together. It had happened unconsciously, whether slowed by her shortened, waddling step or quickened by his longer stride, he didn’t know.
It was strange. Miku… shouldn’t look like she did. The rest of the girls, the rest of her identical quintuplet sisters, were… mostlythin, or just pretty darn chubby.
Miku was fat. Not just fat, but, like… extremelyfat.
Earlier, he’d thought that she might be the size of Itsuki plus his own weight, but watching her walk… being side by side with her tubby, slow, waddle, Fuutarou wondered if she weighed even more.
Three hundred? Three-fifty? Or, more likely, Miku rounded out a scale at three-thirty-three, her full and round hips quivering in a forced-fatty strut.
Fuutarou noticed each jiggle, each wobble. He noticed when her husky voice puttered, or she took a deep breath of heavyweight air. It was more than just her physique or her body. If he looked away, feeling only the index finger which was now laced with his own, he’d still know what Miku was.
Round, heavy, fat, and beneath the sound of her breath or the shuffles of fabric of her tight outfit, he thought he could hear the truest sound of her weight in the quietest of rumbles that squelched out of her belly.
Then, Fuutarou stopped listening, stopped looking, and felt the smoke and smelled the scent of the air, and felt the pinch of sweet hunger inside of his center.
They had left the lane of restaurants, moving into a smaller, more crowded space, with booths and tables assembled in front of the row of buildings. The lane was much tighter, akin to walking down an alleyway and pushed in my shop vendors all openly grilling and selling their wares.
“Come, come!” one woman called, waving in large circles as if she were about to start grabbing people from the other side of the table. “Yaki Tōmorokoshi! Very fresh, very healthy! You need healthy foods, yes?”
“Sir! Sir! You must stop here. We have stir fry bowls, very cheap!”
“HOT PORK BUN!” someone nearby shouted. “Why don’t you have a pork bun in your hand?!”
Fuutarou looked down at their interlocked fingers and blushed.
Miku, thank goodness, didn’t seem to have developed mind reading powers. She didn’t look over at him, didn’t acknowledge anyone around them. She just kept walking, so he kept moving with her, but the longer Fuutarou watched the more about her he noticed.
Miku wasn’t looking at him, because she wasn’t looking at anyone. She wasn’t listening to the street vendors, because she wasn’t listening to anything. Her blue eyes were wide, distant, and the pink on her cheeks made her look as round and as ripe as a juicy peach.
“Miku?” he prompted.
Three-thousand volts of jiggling energy shocked through Miku’s system. Her entire hand snapped shut like a trap over Fuutarou’s wrist, pinching him tight while her hop brought all of her weight back down on her tiptoes, and the girl began toppling forward.
Fuutarou moved quicker than he thought himself able, unthinkingly putting himself in between the startled blue bun and a three-hundred-pound drop. He caught her with his left arm gripping her waist, his right lifting both of their hands up in a dancer’s pose, and all of her weight pressed into him.
If Raika’s figure had been ‘interesting,’ Miku’s body was breathtaking, and not just because she was so gosh darn heavy. When she pressed into Fuutarou, her thick chin and short neck pinching down to defensively in surprise made her chest bounce down and then up towards her face. Her breasts were, each, the size of her head, her belly so much wider than Fuutarou’s waist. She was warm, and so soft, but when she looked up, startled, blushing, red eyelashes fluttering, Fuutarou looked into Miku. And he remembered.
They stood like that for a moment, just looking at one another, cramping the traffic but neither of them caring.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
Miku nodded, unblinking.
He held her. She held him.
“Do you remember when I first recognized you…?”
She nodded once. Short, somehow even more nervous.
“You were a lot lighter then,” he said, feeling the smile bringing up the corner of his lip.
Miku’s blush brightened several degrees before looking from him to his hands. “You caught me… though… Last time, we both fell over.”
Fuutarou remembered. She’d hit him so hard and so fast that he’d been knocked completely on the ground, flattened by Miku who had landed atop of him, burying her face into his chest.
Now, she was flattening him while they were both still upright. It shouldn’t fit her. Identical girls, all five parts of the whole, but Miku was…
Miku was Miku.
“I got…” Miku said, looking up to their fully interlocked hands. She righted her feet, standing on her own and stepping back, but did not let go. “Sorry,” she said, lightly swinging her doughy body. “I think I started panicking…”
“Why would you panic?” Fuutarou asked.
Miku’s blush deepened, as did her voice when it grew down to a whisper. “I thought… you might’ve… heard my tummy…”
Fuutarou was about to speak when, louder than the man shouting about porky buns, Miku’s gut visibly rumbled, quivering the teal ribbon that was tied over her belly and through her love handles.
Miku’s face fell, and he could practically feel the air around her become several degrees warmer, but all it did was make Fuutarou laugh.
That surprised Miku, popping back open from her cringing cover of her rotund tummy, and looking at Fuutarou with those curious eyes.
“Well,” he said, looking around, “it’d be a shame if you didn’t show me what’s best to eat around here. A café owner, and you brought me all this way."
Miku blinked at him several times before turning around. She seemed to notice what a big obstruction they’d been, luckily positioned near an electric pole rather than right in front of an angry shopkeeper, but even quicker seemed to be accounting for each of the stalls.
Her eyesight halted on a spot across the street, a vendor selling onigiri rice balls, and Fuutarou was the first to move. Still holding his hand, Miku scampered after him. “Good evening,” he said, checking to look on Miku. Her eyes were locked upon the onigiri, lightly dusted with salmon and wrapped in grilled nori. He turned back to the vendor and began, “I’ll have two…”
He slowed, eyes flicking again to Miku.
“Three, onigiri, please.”
The woman behind the counter bowed her head as he fished his wallet out of his pocket. Miku looked almost like she’d begun deflating when he let go of her hand, but popped back up and jiggled like jello when he offered it to her, along with two of the fatty riceballs.
Miku palmed the snack food in her left hand, pinching each of the wrapped balls between pudgy fingers before pulling Fuutarou away, off towards a small spot on the side that led up to an empty brick section of wall.
“The closest spot to sit is-” Miku started, but Fuutarou waved her off.
“Hey, it’s fine. I can eat while standing. It’s just a rice-”
Miku chomped into an entire half of the first of her dual riceballs before he even finished his sentence. When she pulled back, cheeks full of salmon and rice, she was blushing a similar color.
Lifting a hand to cover her cheeks Miku muttered, “S-sorry… I haven’t eaten in a while.”
Fuutarou nodded, then felt himself smirk. “How long is a while?” he asked.
Miku blushed, but she was smiling pleasantly as she bent down for a second, more reasonable bite. This was only three times the size of Fuutarou’s nibble, rather than a full five.
The first onigiri was vanished in only a few seconds. The second followed its sister into Miku’s round tummy, the girl patting herself and exhaling with a small breath of exertion. Which was fitting, since eating to Miku looked almost as exhausting as working out.
He couldn’t help but feel fascinated by it all. The way that the girl moved, the slow speed of her wobbling matched against the quick snaps of her hands. It was clear that she’d become an experienced cook, and a more experienced eater, but Miku had become something different from the girl from five years ago.
She’d become something more.
She was already looking around again, clearly not satisfied with only two rice balls. She seemed to be looking for a meal, which at least seemed fair given the growing lateness in the time of day.
The sun had begun to set, cresting against the sky and coloring it with a lovely bright hue. The red sky made Miku’s blue outfit stand out to be brighter, while it mixed lovely with her straight red hair curling over her shoulders and skating on the roofs of her breasts.
“Take me somewhere,” Fuutarou said.
Miku hopped slightly, turning from the crowd back to him, then down for a moment before grasping her hand at the air.
Fuutarou took her hand and walked with her.
Miku was smiling as they walked, one hand holding his, the other resting on the increasingly full curve of her belly. She looked pleasant. Not just cheerfully chubby, but… cute, and very chunky.
He felt himself lower away from that, lifting his own hand to touch the spot on his chest. The pang, the ache, the sense of frustration and hurt and so many memories.
He nearly walked into Miku this time, who’d moved so quiet and quick for a girl her size. He didn’t hop, didn’t topple forward, just stood with her. Pressed against her body, inches from her eyes and her face.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, a hand going up to where he held his chest.
Fuutarou opened his mouth, but caught it this time all by himself. The lie died in his throat, and he felt his eyes and his mouth turn down in frustration. “I don’t…” his scowl deepened.
Miku took him by the wrist, still holding his chest, and slowly, the pair stepped to the side of the path. It was quieter now, the sun falling behind the buildings. She stood beneath him, in Fuutarou’s shadow, but orange light still touched her bright hair and her pretty blue eyes.
‘You haven’t changed.’
“You’ve changed,” he said, looking down from Miku. “You’ve changed a lot. You’re so… different, but you’re still…”
The girl, the woman, caught him by the cheek, and he looked deep into Miku’s eyes, which didn’t burn, didn’t smolder, didn’t glow like they possessed by their own little sun.
In Fuutarou’s shadow, her eyes twinkled like stars that glimmered with a beautiful moon. “You’ve changed too,” she said, smiling. And the way that she said it almost made him believe it. “You’re… softer,” she said, looking away with embarrassment but for only a moment. “Kinder. You haven’t yelled at me once. And, I mean, look at me.”
She meant for him to look down at her body, but he couldn’t take his eyes off her face. The identical girl who… wasn’t anyone else.
Fuutarou lifted a hand, patting the back of his head. “Yeah, well… give me a couple weeks. With you quintuplets running around.”
Miku laughed. It was a deep, fat, belly laugh, but had a lovely sense of breathiness to it as she put both hands on her tummy. “You might have noticed,” she says, “but I think I’m finally tired of running.”
