Chapter Text
“I don't get it!”
Murata Ken watched his friend pace back and forth in the main chamber of the Temple of the Original King. He and Shibuya Yuri were the only ones present (well, aside from Shinou's soul, but Yuri didn't need to know that); the twenty-seventh Maou had respectfully asked the maidens to grant them privacy.
“Why would he just stop?” Said Maou had added throwing his arms up and out to side to his worried pacing. Was he asking Murata these questions, or just venting to whatever god might hear? “And what's with suddenly suggesting Greta get her own room?”
“Don't you think she's old enough to move out of her dads' bed?”
“But that's the problem!” Yuri's hands were now fretting through his hair. “It's not our bed anymore! Wolfram moved back to the soldier's quarters!”
So the Great Sage had heard. He had also heard this was the result of some conversation Conrad had had with Wolfram, but he didn't trust the maids' interpretations beyond that point. Regardless, his friend's reaction was a pleasant surprise; if Murata could choose his words carefully enough...
“And why does that bother you?” Questions, not accusations, would serve him best here.
Yuri suddenly went stiff, his eyes nervously looking toward his friend. “Well … it's just, you know, we're family.”
“Family?” This was the second slip-up Yuri had made the past two weeks; Yuri had absentmindedly called Wolfram his fiancé when last they were on Earth.
Yuri's response was immediate. His eyes went wide, his arms shot out, and his hands started turning back and forth in a comical attempt to undo what he just said. Given that Murata was, as usual, perched on the surviving boxes from their battle with the Shoushu, it must have made a ridiculous sight.
“J-j-just wait a minute!” Yuri scrambled. “I mean, well, I'm Greta's father, and Greta calls Wolfram her father, and Conrad's my godfather, so we're like family, right?”
Maybe Murata had pushed too far. But then again, strike when the iron's hot right?
“Is that really how you feel?”
Yuri's arms started to retreat toward his chest, his teeth started to clench, and his eyes started darting around the room looking for escape. “What are you talking about?” he said.
There would be no escape. “I'm asking you to more clearly express your feelings for Sir von Bielefeld,” the Great Sage said as he lost the comforting grin he'd been sporting and his eyes became hidden by the glare from his glasses.
Yuri knew he knew now. His arms reached his chest; his hands were still held up to defend himself. “Are you trying to get me to admit that I ...”
No escape. “Say it.”
Yuri's only response was to let out a pained moan as his eyes frantically searched for a way out.
“Say it.”
“Do I have to?” Yuri's eyes slowly drifted back to Murata, though his head turned slightly in retreat.
“Yes.”
The ensuing pause held for over half a minute. Murata wasn't unsympathetic to his friend's plight; Yuri had spent his childhood being forced into dresses by his mother after all. He'd probably spent a good chuck on his youth telling himself (not to mention anyone who remembered seeing him in those dresses) the wasn't gay. For him to admit that he now had feelings for another guy would almost seem like he was betraying himself. And with how forward and possessive Wolfram could be, it was probably a miracle Yuri had gotten this far on his own.
“That I like Wolfram,” the sixteen-year-old meekly said.
It wasn't good enough. “'Like' how?”
Yuri clenched his hands to fists, threw his arms down, closed his eyes and yelled, “You know very well what I'm talking about!” He was angry now. That was probably a good thing, given the kind of man he was. “I like-like Wolfram, okay!?”
Murata sighed through his nose; that was probably the best he'd be able to get. Still, it was enough for him to work with. “Yes,” he said, his visible once again. “So, you're upset that the man you like has started giving you the cold shoulder.” Yuri almost flinched at having said so bluntly. “Has he told you why?”
“No.” Yuri's eyes turned to the floor as his coming-out anxiety took a back seat to the melancholy of his current relationship status. “He's barely talked to me at all in days since we came back. He just keeps looking at me with a sad face he won't admit to having. He's also had the room right next to ours converted into a room Greta could have to herself.”
“Again, is that so bad?”
Yuri shook his head, his eyes still on the floor. “No. It's like you said, she needs to start sleeping in her own bed if she's going to start growing up. Even if I don't like it. But two days ago, Wolfram told me that we'd finally be having my coming-of-age party, since all that business with the Shoushu and Sara meant caused us to miss my sixteenth birthday. I thought we'd already taken care of that.”
“You went through the personal part, but nobles like the Maou are expected to put on a big party and announce their decisions publicly. Doubling down, if you will.” Murata paused to see if Yuri would react to the explanation. He didn't. “I still don't see what the big deal is, by all accounts it sounds like it'll be a fun time.”
Yuri shook his head again. “But then Wolfram told me that I'd be able to annul our engagement at the party. I could just 'write it off as a mistake of my youth,'” Yuri added air quotes to those words, “and that it would mean there wouldn't be any fallout or hurt feelings when I did. Then he didn't come to bed with me and Greta the past two nights.”
Yuri lifted his head and looked Murata in the eye again. “And I'm not the only one upset. Greta's really worried her family's about to be broken up.”
So it was out of concern for his adopted daughter that finally made him confront his feelings, Murata thought. Fitting.
“Well Shibuya,” Murata responded, “I think I might know what all this is about, but we probably shouldn't talk about it until we go back to Earth and talk to an expert.”
“An expert?” Yuri seemed to forget his melancholy for favor of confusion. Confusion which quickly turned to dread as the gears in his head finally came to a stop. Dread that showed itself on his face. “You don't mean-”
“That's right,” Murata's close-lipped smile spread as wide as it could. “Shouri will certainly have some advice for us.”
He did. Though, Yuri grimly noted, Shouri's first instinct was to simulate his current relationship status using dating sim tropes. An instinct Murata had every intention of supporting.
“From everything you've told me,” Shouri said from his desk chair, a pause dating sim the only light source in the room, “Wolfram has become something of a recluse Tsundere.”
“That's right,” Murata said with a nod before Yuri could object. “He's always had Tsundere tendencies, but never toward Yuri.”
Shouri turned back to his paused dating sim, hand on his chin as if in thought. “I see.”
Well Yuri sure didn't! How on Earth could dating sims actually predict reality? It's not like his brother had ever brought home a girl before. Still, Yuri didn't want Shouri to launch into some tirade about the glories of dating sims should he voice such thoughts, so he slumped his shoulders, gritted his teeth, and let his eyes wander Heavenward.
“And Yu-chan's coming-of-age ceremony will be held within two days of when we return?”
Wait. “We?” Yuri asked, his eyes once again on his brother.
Shouri returned the gesture. “Of course. Do you actually think Mother would ever let us hear the end of it if we didn't bring her along to such a party? And how long did you think you could keep Greta a secret from her anyway?”
Yuri had to swallow the lump in his throat before he could answer. “Y-you mean she knows?”
“Not yet, but you should probably tell her before we leave.” Shouri turned back to his computer. “Now, back to the important business.” His mom finding out about Greta was important too, darn it! “The coming-of-age ceremony is the key event – the moment in the game where you either make the right choice and win her heart, or you make the wrong choice and get a game over.” Yuri felt his teeth starting to grind. This wasn't a game! “Whatever you do here sets the course for the rest of your adult life, right?” Murata gave the affirmative. Shouri responded by pushing his glasses higher on his nose, a smug smirk growing on his face. “Well, then the answer is obvious.”
“Huh?” Yuri blinked. Obvious? What part of this was obvious?
“Really Yuri, if you can't see the answer, you're hopeless.”
“That he is, Shibuya's brother,” Murata agreed.
Yuri could only throw his confused look from one to the other. Why was he hopeless? What was so obvious? What was the plan here?