The golden haze of a lazy afternoon spilled into Ayaka's apartment, sunlight slanting through sheer curtains that swayed gently in the breeze.
The soft hum of traffic buzzed faintly outside, dulled by the distant rustling of leaves and the quiet clink of mugs on the wooden coffee table.
Ayaka sat cross-legged on her living room floor, her head buried in her arms atop the kotatsu, a dramatic sigh escaping her lips.
The table was strewn with open snack bags, three mismatched mugs of tea, and a small plate of half-eaten mochi.
Despite the peaceful ambiance, Ayaka's frustration was anything but quiet.
"I swear!" she burst out suddenly, her voice muffled against the table.
"For the past three months, I've felt like I'm caught in the middle of a cold war—between Akihiko and my brothers!"
Keiko looked up from her cup, brow raised in amusement. "What made you suddenly think of that?"
Ayaka shot up, hair slightly mussed, and pointed a finger into the air like she was in a courtroom. "They're always glaring at each other. Like full-on death stares! And sometimes it's like they're treating him like—like a maid!"
Yuki, lounging against a plush pillow with her legs stretched out, blinked. "Wait, what? A maid?"
Ayaka threw her hands up in the air. "Yes! It's like some weird psychological warfare."
"Kei will ask him to lift boxes, then Kai will make him 'taste test' every dish he cooks like it's a health inspection. And then yesterday—yesterday!—they made Akihiko assemble a bookshelf. A giant one. With no instructions!"
"Oh god..." Keiko chuckled, "that's definitely cruel."
Ayaka groaned, dramatically dropping her head back onto the table. "I keep telling him not to give in to them, but he just says, 'It's fine.' Fine! He looks like he's two favors away from collapsing. At this rate, he's going to break up with me because my brothers are—are lunatics in disguise!"
"Did he do something to upset them?" Yuki asked gently, sipping her jasmine tea. "Maybe there's something going on behind the scenes."
"I've asked him so many times!" Ayaka sat up again, exasperated. "He just smiles! That annoyingly gentle smile of his and changes the subject. I know something's going on. No guy just casually lets two grown men treat him like their intern without snapping!"
Keiko tilted her head, brushing a crumb off her lap. "Maybe it's just a misunderstanding. You know, some weird guy language thing? Tension doesn't always mean something bad."
Ayaka stared at her with wide, tired eyes. "Keiko. This has been going on for three months. That's not a misunderstanding. That's a full-blown cold war. I feel like I need to start mediating peace talks."
Yuki giggled. "You're so dramatic."
"I live with dramatic men! It's rubbed off!" Ayaka cried, throwing a cushion at the other end of the couch. "Kei gets this scary glint in his eye whenever Akihiko enters the room. And Kai—Kai plays nice, but I've seen the way he keeps score. One time Akihiko sat in Kai's usual spot on the couch and Kai just… stared at him. For twenty minutes. In silence."
"Okay, that's kind of creepy." Keiko admitted with a grin.
"They act like they're testing him. Like he's in some high-stakes boyfriend interview that never ends!" Ayaka pressed her palms to her cheeks, groaning. "And Akihiko's just... enduring it. I don't get it."
"Maybe he's doing it for you." Yuki said, setting her tea down thoughtfully. "Like... he knows how much your brothers matter to you, so he's trying to earn their approval. The hard way."
"Or..." Keiko added with a smirk, "he might be too polite to tell them off. Which is hilarious because he is never polite when it comes to hospital gossip."
Ayaka slumped forward again. "I just wish they'd get along. I'm so tired of walking into rooms and feeling the air thicken like someone's about to throw a scalpel."
Keiko reached across the kotatsu and patted Ayaka's head. "They'll sort it out eventually."
"Yeah." Yuki chimed in, "your brothers are grown adults, remember?"
Ayaka peeked up with a dry look. "You say that, but they also once spent an hour arguing about who would get the last gyoza."
"They'll be fine." Keiko said with a wink. "And if not, we'll lock them all in a room and force them to talk."
"With snacks." Yuki nodded. "Snacks solve everything."
Ayaka sighed again, this time more theatrically, blowing a strand of hair off her forehead. "I guess you're right… Maybe I'm just overthinking it."
Keiko leaned back, stretching. "You definitely are. But it's cute that you care."
"I don't want him to think my family hates him..." Ayaka muttered.
"They don't." Yuki said firmly. "They're just... intense."
"Understatement of the year." Ayaka mumbled, her head sinking back into her folded arms. "I just hope Akihiko survives them."
Keiko grinned. "He survived you. He'll be fine."
Ayaka groaned into the pillow again as the girls laughed.
Outside, the sky began to shift into a lazy orange.
The day rolled on gently, with the quiet background music of a drama playing on mute, the soft chirping of birds outside the window, and the lingering scent of tea.
And while Ayaka tried her best to relax, a part of her couldn't help but wonder what was really going on between the three men in her life.
Because she could feel it—
Something was brewing.
And knowing her brothers... they weren't done testing Akihiko just yet.
------
The quiet clink of porcelain echoed in the kitchen as Akihiko set down the two mugs he'd just prepared—one chamomile, one black tea with honey.
He remembered which one Ayaka liked when she was feeling overwhelmed, and which one Kai preferred after dinner.
Kei, on the other hand, insisted he didn't like tea and still drank it while making direct eye contact like it was a challenge.
Akihiko sighed.
It had been three months since that infamous night where everything changed.
Since the kiss in the hospital hallway.
Since the quiet confession.
Since he'd decided—whether she realized it or not—that Ayaka was his future.
What he hadn't accounted for… was them.
Kai and Kei.
The Yamamoto brothers.
Otherwise known as: the human equivalent of a trial by fire.
Akihiko leaned against the counter and rubbed the back of his neck, eyes narrowing at the faint sound of hammering from the living room.
Of course.
Kai was building something.
Again.
Probably furniture that didn't need building.
Or worse—something Akihiko would inevitably be "invited" to help with.
He braced himself and walked out of the kitchen, mugs in hand, only to stop short at the sight in the living room.
Kai was crouched over a new entertainment shelf, surrounded by a sea of screws, wooden planks, and confusing diagrams that might as well have been an alien language.
Kei was lounging on the couch nearby, scrolling through his phone, but Akihiko could feel his eyes dart up to him.
Like always.
Waiting.
Observing.
"Ah." Kai said, not looking up. "Perfect timing."
Akihiko stiffened.
It always started with that phrase.
"I didn't ask for help." Kai added casually, "but if you want to lend a hand, I won't stop you."
Akihiko set the mugs down slowly. "I brought you tea."
"Great." Kai grabbed a plank of wood, turning it upside down. "You know how to use a power drill?"
"Yes." He already used one three times this month.
"Good." Kai tossed it to him without warning. "You'll need it."
Akihiko caught it easily. "Where's the instruction manual?"
Kai gestured vaguely at the floor, where a dog-eared booklet sat—entirely in French.
Akihiko blinked. "Why is it…?"
"Oh, that?" Kei spoke up lazily. "Kai ordered the European version. Said it was cheaper."
"Came with a fancy accent." Kai said with a grin.
Akihiko sighed.
He knelt beside Kai and got to work without complaint, checking each screw and verifying the boards by size and fit.
Within fifteen minutes, they had the base of the shelf standing.
Within thirty, the top part was starting to resemble something usable.
And within forty—
*CRACK.*
Akihiko winced as a screw split the wood.
Kai rubbed the back of his head. "Oops. That wasn't supposed to happen."
"You handed me the wrong screw." Akihiko said, still calm.
"I thought you could tell the difference."
Akihiko didn't respond.
He stood, slowly, and walked back to the kitchen.
Kei followed after a beat.
"You're taking this pretty well." Kei said as Akihiko began prepping more tea.
"I'm used to surgeries that last 14 hours." Akihiko replied. "This is just a different kind of bloodless torture."
Kei leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms. "You don't have to say yes every time he asks for help."
"I know."
"Then why do you?"
Akihiko looked up from the kettle. His voice was soft and steady. "Because you're her brothers."
Kei's expression flickered.
"I know what this is." Akihiko added, meeting Kei's eyes. "The tests. The passive-aggressive banter. The couch-seat standoff."
Kei huffed. "It's psychological warfare. Classic sibling defense strategy."
Akihiko shrugged. "I don't mind the hardships..."
Kei raised a brow.
"If this is the way to show you I'm worthy I'll do it all over again."
That silenced Kei for a moment.
"...Tch." he muttered, turning away.
But his footsteps were lighter as he returned to the living room.
Akihiko followed shortly after, only to find the bookshelf now standing—albeit lopsided.
Kai was already peeling a clementine like nothing happened.
"I left the top half for you." Kai said, holding out a fresh screw with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "You know, bonding."
Akihiko didn't even blink. "Hand me the screwdriver."
As he got back to work, he could feel both brothers watching him.
The tests would keep coming.
He knew that.
They'd probably never fully go away.
But every trial was proof.
That he wanted to be there.
For her.
Even if it meant building a thousand bookshelves with no instructions.
-----
Back at Akihiko's apartment...
Akihiko shut the door behind him, exhaling slowly as the silence of his home washed over him.
He shrugged off his coat and sank into the couch, rubbing the faint ache in his shoulder from lifting Kai's toolbox.
There was a soft knock moments later.
When he opened it, Ayaka stood there in a hoodie and leggings, arms crossed, expression somewhere between sheepish and suspicious.
"You look like someone who just survived a battlefield." she said, eyeing him up and down.
"Furniture ambush." he replied. "No survivors."
She stepped in, brushing past him. "I knew they were doing something."
"I'm fine." he said.
"Akihiko." She turned, placing her hands on her hips. "You don't have to keep letting them treat you like that. You're not some... assistant they hired off!"
He chuckled despite himself. "They're your family."
"I'm not blind. They're testing you. And it's not okay."
Akihiko reached for her hand and tugged her gently closer. "Ayaka."
She blinked up at him.
"I don't mind." His voice dropped, sincere. "Not if it means I get to stay close to you. I'll go through every trial they throw at me."
Her expression softened—then wobbled.
"You're stupid." she whispered, lips trembling with emotion.
He smiled. "Only for you."
Ayaka threw her arms around him, burying her face in his chest.
And Akihiko wrapped her in his arms, letting her warmth settle the tiredness in his bones.
The chaos, the unspoken glances, the silent wars—they were all worth it.
Because loving her meant loving all the pieces of her life.
Even the ones with screwdrivers and glinting eyes.