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“Tenma,” Souma intones, tears in his eyes. He held Mitsuru’s hand a touch from his lip, knelt on one knee, his gaze venerating the boy stood before him. “Since the promise of our union has declared herself before us, I vow henceforth to dedicate myself to you wholeheartedly. Though we know each other least familiar, I will choose to declare you my one and only. Let our conflicts lay, and may we come to cherish each other in time.”
“S- Sou- senpai—” Mitsuru stutters, the color in his face tinting rosy to carmine. “Th… You- Wu.. Y-Y… I… Um…”
“CAN YOU NOT DO THIS IN PUBLIC?” A girl shrieks, saving a paralyzed, flushed Mitsuru from response. “You are SO embarrassing! Oh my god! I regret coming to you and telling you anything!”
She had hair as long and violet as Souma’s, though it retains Mitsuru’s curliness, surfing over her shoulders. Her eyes were a light tint of brown, almost as if they were losing their color, barely perceptible behind sunglasses. Freckles adored her cheeks, shoulders, and she wore a colorful dress of the wa-lolita fashion. With several-inch-high platforms, she towered over both her parents.
“Worry not, Botan!” Souma declares, his determined glance now shifting to her. “My darling child, with this, your future birth is ensured.”
‘Botan’ shrieks again, her sleeves now slapping at Souma’s mouth in an attempt to quiet him, “DON’T SAY THINGS LIKE THAT IN PUBLIC! I don’t even know if I actually will be born in this future!”
“It is no shame to declare you a child of mine!” With that, Souma stands, his hands now swapping from Mitsuru’s to grab Botan’s daintily with care. “Thus, it is no shame to me either to devote myself to what I now know to be my future spouse.”
“Seriously?! Don’t you at least have a few questions about this… situation…!”
Botan pales, now acutely aware of the ruckus the two of them must be raising. “H-Hey, let’s pipe down a lil—“
Undeterred, Souma doubles down, “Even if I must forfeit my career, it is but my duty to make room in my life for a wife and child.”
“WILL YOU HAVE SOME SENSE TO YOU?!”
Mitsuru, for all his wisdom, keeps his mouth shut, his head a few significant degrees hotter than the rest of his body. As Souma and Botan exchange argument, he clasps his hands to his face, mumbling the names of every type of sweet and bread he knew.