Despite Yuji’s increasingly unsubtle tactics—like "accidentally" booking a table for two instead of three, or mysteriously getting "lost" at the supermarket for an hour while you and Choso were left holding Sumire—you and Choso remained stubbornly stuck in a stalemate. You were convinced he only saw you as a trusted family friend, while Choso, burned by his past and deeply respectful of your boundaries, refused to make a reckless move.
Frustrated by the sheer lack of progress, Yuji decided it was time for extreme measures.
On a quiet Friday night at Choso’s apartment, Yuji volunteered to mix drinks. Claiming he was trying out a new "artisanal fruit punch" recipe he found online, he poured you and Choso hefty glasses of what was, in reality, a lethal concoction of rum, vodka, sweet liqueurs, and sheer desperation. It was meant to be a simple liquid-courage booster to get you two to finally admit your feelings.
Instead, Yuji’s secret "love potion" worked a little *too* well.
The alcohol hit fast and hard. Years of suppressed longing, stolen glances, and silent yearning melted away under the haze of sweet cocktails. By midnight, the invisible walls you had painstakingly built over a decade completely crumbled.
The next morning, sunlight streamed through the bedroom blinds, blinding you as consciousness slowly returned. Your head throbbed with a dull ache, but the immediate warmth pressuring against your side made you freeze.
You slowly turned your head.
Lying right beside you, fast asleep with one heavy, muscular arm draped possessively over your waist, was Choso. His broad, naked torso was fully on display, glistening faintly in the morning light. You looked down beneath the sheet—you were wearing little more than a flimsy lace camisole, your clothes scattered across the floorboards in a chaotic trail leading straight to the door.
Your brain short-circuited. *Again.*
A few hours later, after you had hidden under the blanket in absolute, mortified silence for an hour, Choso woke up. But instead of the awkward panic of your teenage years, he simply pulled you close, tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, and kissed your forehead with a quiet, undeniable devotion that settled the matter once and for all.
Yuji, of course, received the absolute earful of a lifetime from an intensely protective Choso the moment he stepped back into the apartment. But as angry as Choso pretended to be, the ship had officially sailed—and there was no turning back.
As it turned out, Choso’s swimmers were indeed a force of nature, maintaining a flawless, terrifying record of hitting the target on the very first try.
_______________________________________
The morning sun filtered brightly into the master bedroom.
Two year old Sumire was sitting in the middle of the big bed, giggling happily as she tried to put a tiny pink hair bow onto her uncle Yuji’s head. Yuji sat patiently on the floor, holding a cup of lukewarm coffee, looking like the proudest matchmaker in human history.
"I'm just saying, Niichan," Yuji grunted, wincing slightly as Sumire yanked on his pink hair. "My love potion changed the course of history. You guys should name the next one after me."
"We are absolutely not naming our baby 'Yuji Junior'," you called out from the doorway, leaning against the frame with a fond smile.
You looked radiant. You wore a loose, comfortable emerald-green midi dress that draped softly over your round, unmistakably prominent seven-month baby bump.
From behind you, a pair of strong, familiar arms wrapped gently around your waist. Choso leaned his chin on your shoulder, his hands resting protectively over your belly, resting right where his second child was kicking softly. He looked happier, healthier, and lighter than he ever had in his entire life.
"He's right about one thing, though," Choso murmured into your ear, his low, raspy voice sending a familiar flutter through your chest as his lips brushed against your cheek. "His terrible cocktail was the best mistake that ever happened to us."
You turned your head slightly, meeting his dark, heavy-lidded burgundy eyes—the same eyes that used to make you run away as a teenager, but now held your entire world.
"Don't give him a bigger head than he already has," you laughed quietly, leaning back into Choso's warm chest as he kissed the side of your neck.
Yuji watched the two of you with a satisfied, triumphant grin, crossing his arms as his little niece finally succeeded in pinning the pink bow into his hair. The days of awkward stammers, hidden crushes, and runaway teenagers were long gone—replaced by a full, noisy, beautifully chaotic home that had been years in the making.
