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408 Eriri’s Direct Pitch
🕑 Added 2025-07-27 15:00:25 +0000 UTC“What secret project? This is a workplace, you pervy girl with your head full of lewd fantasies!”
A certain blonde tsundere muttered under her breath—the happier she got, the sharper her tongue became.
“In that case, maybe we should stay and help out. Don’t you think so, Katou-san?”
“Let’s go already! We need to help Aunt Mikiko prepare lunch!” Eriri didn’t give them a chance to argue.
She shoved Utaha and Megumi out the company doors herself.
When she returned to the president’s office, she found Kyousuke gently polishing his katana, with a cloth from who-knows-where.
Seeing his focused gaze and the care in his movements, Eriri suddenly felt a bitter taste in her mouth. She pouted unconsciously.
‘Jeez... I should’ve just gotten him a bottle of cola. He could drink it and be done with it!’
She knew how much he liked swords, that’s exactly why she went out of her way to pick this gift... but still!
Right now, she was experiencing something she’d only ever seen described in R-18 doujinshi.
No wonder all those swordmasters' wives in historical dramas end up offing themselves...
With that thought, Eriri stomped over behind Kyousuke, fuming.
“You're back,” he said.
‘I’ve been here for ages! How are you just noticing me, you oblivious idiot?!’
She screamed silently, then casually said aloud, “That katana... it’s really pretty, huh.”
“Yeah,” Kyousuke smiled. It really was. A blade made with modern technology—cleanly slicing through iron without a nick on the edge. The lightning-shaped hamon line shimmered beautifully like it had been painted on with silver.
A truly wonderful gift.
Kyousuke started to feel a bit guilty, thinking his present to Eriri might have been too plain in comparison.
‘Pretty, my ass! It’s just a chunk of scrap metal!’
The same girl who had just been proudly bragging to Utaha about how hard she worked to find this legendary katana now stared at it like it was her love rival.
“No wonder it's from some famous blacksmith or whatever,” she muttered, trying to bait him.
“The technique is important, sure,” Kyousuke replied earnestly, “but the real game-changer is modern metallurgy. This kind of blade isn’t something you can just forge with spirit and a blowtorch.”
“Totally,” she said with wryly voice.
‘If you like it that much, maybe I should ask my dad to stick you in a forge too!’
“Is it... prettier than me?” Eriri asked suddenly, wanting to test if this idiot would really say something that stupid—
“Of course not!”
Before her sentence could even finish in her head, Kyousuke cut her off, firm and resolute.
“This sword is only beautiful because you gave it to me. If it weren’t called Shirogane, I would've handed it off to Kisaki for maintenance already.”
His hands stilled.
He turned to glance at Eriri—now smiling uncontrollably, hips swaying back and forth like she couldn’t sit still.
‘Wait… is she seriously jealous of a katana?’
“Eriri... are you jealous?” Even Kyousuke, who had seen some strange things, found this hard to believe.
She just gave him the katana!
“W-what?! Who’d get jealous over that, you idiot!”
Her happy expression froze for a second, then she quickly switched to a scowl and barked at him.
One hundred percent jealous!
Kyousuke, now fully convinced, chuckled and put the cloth down, ending the maintenance for now.
“Yeah, no way a sword could be prettier than you. Especially not you, Eriri.”
“Hmph. Well, obviously!”
She tried to keep a stern face, but her smile was already breaking through.
“Next time, I’ll get you an even better one!”
She slid onto the couch beside him, reached for Shirogane, and held it up.
“Keep going. Didn’t you cut fruit with this before? You’ll ruin it if you don’t maintain it properly. Is that how you treat my gift?”
Kyousuke smiled quietly and took the sword from her.
Knowing how reckless Eriri could be, he didn’t want her getting hurt.
He pointed to the cleaning kit on the table and began explaining each item.
“I already cleaned the blade. Next, we polish it using this powder ball. Just lightly tap it on the blade and the powder comes out, then you wipe it with the cloth.”
He handed her the puffball, which looked like a little mallet.
Then he carefully laid the blade flat in front of them.
Eriri held the puffball by its wooden handle and stared at the gleaming edge with a touch of fear.
But then she thought:
‘If Tokyo suddenly gets overrun by zombies, and Kyousuke uses this sword to protect himself... wouldn’t that mean I’m the one protecting him?’
That thought alone filled her with purpose.
‘Pffft!’
The puffball made a soft thump as it tapped against the blade, releasing a fine cloud of polishing powder.
She glanced sideways at Kyousuke, and his affectionate, approving gaze met hers.
“Hmph, see? It’s not that hard~”
Despite how mundane the task was, it felt strangely fun.
‘Thump, thump, thump—'
She tapped rhythmically along the length of the blade until it was completely dusted with white powder.
“Next, I wrap the blade with the soft cloth and polish, right?”
Before Kyousuke could even respond, she grabbed a blue cloth and pinched the blade between her thumb and palm.
“Let me do it,” Kyousuke said quickly. “You could hurt yourself.”
“Idiot.”
Eriri snorted at his worry, then mumbled, barely audible:
“If you’re that worried about me... then why not just hold my hand?”
Huh?
Kyousuke blinked, stunned.
“What are you spacing out for? Do I need to said you everything?”
Her voice started off as a tiny squeak, then swelled into a mock-scolding whine.
She tilted her head up, face glowing pink, and looked straight at him.
Seeing his shocked expression, she squeaked like a startled hamster and quickly ducked her head again.
“Or is this your first time holding a girl’s hand and you're getting nervous?”
She huffed, still looking down.
“Hurry up! I’m giving you permission to hold my hand!”
Her words, soft and shy yet as bold as a confession, made Kyousuke tremble with disbelief.
But he still reached out—slowly—and gently took her slender hand.
Truly, what a sin, Kyousuke.
These beautiful hands... they should never be wasted on something like sword maintenance.
She shouldn't be touching such a dangerous thing at all.
“You really are a stupid assistant...” Eriri muttered, pouting.
Then she took her other hand... and placed it gently over his.
From an outside perspective, it looked like Eriri was gently cradling Kyousuke’s hands in both of hers... as the two of them lovingly polished a sword together.
Feeling the soft warmth of her small hands, the delicate shape of her fingers wrapped around his, Kyousuke couldn’t help himself—his heart was full to bursting.
And honestly, who could blame him? Eriri never acted this affectionate.
No wonder she had spent the whole day trying to get everyone else out of the way.
Wait a sec—was this all part of her plan?
Still holding her hand, he slowly guided their joined motions across Shirogane’s blade.
He made a decision right then and there: even if they polished this sword until it turned to dust, they were not stopping today.
Because of their position, the two were now pressed close together, shoulders brushing, warmth bleeding into one another.
The soft rhythm of Kyousuke’s breathing filled Eriri’s ears.
Her mind wasn’t on the sword anymore—not even close.
Her eyes kept drifting left toward his face, and the hand still gripping the sword had gone limp. Only her right hand, layered gently over Kyousuke’s, remained tense—like it was trying to fully enclose his.
The fear she once had for swords was completely gone. She’d never imagined sword maintenance could be so... blissful. In that moment, she also vowed: even if she polished this sword into dust, she was not stopping today!
...Wait a sec. This idiot’s not planning to confess right now, is he?
Come to think of it, this moment was perfect for a confession.
After an intense “battle,” the two of them now sat side by side—tending to their weapon and each other’s wounds.
And then, gripping the very blade that had saved them, Kyousuke would lower his voice, rough and deep from exhaustion, and say:
“No matter what danger comes, I’ll protect you with this sword. As long as I’m alive, I’ll never let harm touch you. So... will you spend the rest of your life with me?”
Hehe...
A tiny giggle escaped her nose as she snorted at the absurdly romantic thought.
“No!”
As ideal as that setup and confession sounded, she still couldn’t accept a love confession while holding a sword!
It gave off the totally wrong vibe—like they were about to run off into the wilderness and become wandering outlaws or something!
Obviously, the proper timing for a confession should be after their anime premieres to massive success!
Wait, could it be...? Was Kyousuke going to confess after One Punch Man released last time, but backed out because there were too many people around?
Jeez, this guy! So tsundere and so shy! It’s a terrible combo!
One tsundere per couple is enough! If both sides are tsundere, it stops being a romcom and starts turning into some twisted drama called “Our Daily Dictionary of Insults.”
She’d have to ask her mom how to deal with a situation like this.
There’s no way she was going to confess first!
...Wait, hold on!!
Shouldn’t she be thinking about whether or not she’d accept his confession first?!
How did things suddenly turn into her needing to confess?! That’s ridiculous!
She was a proper lady, dammit!
How far was this idiot planning to drag her dignity through the mud before he was satisfied?!
Just thinking about it snapped her out of her fantasy.
She glared sharply at the idiot beside her.
“You! Stop waiting around for everyone else to take the lead! Be more proactive for once!”
“Huh?”
Kyousuke blinked.
“Uh... okay?”
He raised his hand, sounding a little disappointed.
“Next step is wiping off the polishing powder... and oiling the blade.”
The moment he said that, Eriri looked like she was on the verge of tears.
She had mentally committed to sitting here all day polishing this sword!
“Idiot!!”
Now, Hojou Kyousuke wasn’t just anyone—he was a certified Level 10 in Eriri Language.
The moment he heard that "Baka!", he knew exactly what she meant.
With a big grin, he said:
“Ooooh, right, we’re not done yet! Time for the second round of polishing! Let’s keep it going!”
“Hmph! That’s more like it! This is my gift—you’d better treat it with the respect it deserves!”
“Yes, ma’am, of course.” Says the one who was literally jealous of the sword five minutes ago... If I treat it too well, she’s gonna toss it in the trash tomorrow.
“But!” she added, glaring at him like a hawk, “You are absolutely not allowed to look at it with those soft, sparkly eyes of yours! And definitely not allowed to polish it this seriously with anyone else!”
“Yes, yes, of course.” Yep, she’s 100% still jealous of the sword. Amazing.
They resumed polishing.
But after a couple more wipes, Eriri wasn’t satisfied with just holding Kyousuke’s hand anymore.
She leaned closer, glancing sideways at him, her breathing growing heavier.
Then, ever so subtly, she tried to blow her warm breath onto his cheek.
Kyousuke turned his head, eyebrow raised, staring at her.
What the heck is this girl doing now? And why does she smell... like that?
Ever since a few minutes ago, Eriri’s soft, natural scent had grown so rich it was practically intoxicating—wrapping around him like a warm blanket.
It even made his stomach growl a little.
‘C’mon, say something already! This is your moment!’
Eriri blinked rapidly, trying her hardest to send a signal.
Even as a Level 10 in Eriri Language, Kyousuke was completely lost.
He blinked back at her in confusion—while also carefully making sure she didn’t hurt her hand.
‘Idiot! Say it already!’
Tell me how you’ll always protect me with that sword of yours!
That you’ll take down every bad guy, just like you did today!
Her big blue eyes sparkled with urgency.
Maybe she’s... tired of polishing?
Kyousuke guessed.
“Eriri, do you want to start work now?” he asked gently.
“Idiot!! That’s not it at all!”
She exploded.
All that buildup—wasted! Wasn’t this guy supposed to be able to understand her even if she was being tsundere?
Had she... called him "idiot" so often that it became true?
“Smart-dummy!” she suddenly shouted.
“Ahh, I get it now! Eriri... you’re hungry?”
Kyousuke made the most logical guess from his own experience.
He had a feeling she’d been daydreaming about something romantic, but c’mon—he wasn’t a mind reader!
And after her bold moment earlier, she’d completely scurried back into her hamster-shell.
“Sigh... Idiot, Idiot, Idiot!”
She slumped in defeat. Even calling him “smart-dummy” hadn’t helped.
“Well, how about I treat you to something today? What do you feel like eating?”
Now that he mentioned it... she was a bit hungry.
“Anything’s fine. I’ll eat whatever you eat.”
“No, seriously! What’s your favorite food?”
She leaned in, pressing the question.
Favorite food?
Kyousuke paused.
No one had ever asked him that before.
“Wait... Eriri, are you... confessing to me right now? You know, usually asking someone what their favorite food is... it’s a sign you like them.”
He stared at her, caught off guard—and met those bright, shining blue eyes.
“Huh?! Where did you get that third-rate logic from?” she huffed, flustered. “Just answer the question already—what’s your favorite food?!”
