"everyone's really riding high on this, huh…"
I muttered to myself as I watched the women heading out onto the street, their steps light and dreamy, like they were still caught up in some fantasy.
Of course, there were also some with that look of despair—like they'd just woken from a dream they never wanted to leave. But overall, the mood was pretty cheerful.
By contrast, the group heading in must've heard a few more details on the way—nervously excited, like they were about to graduate from virginity, walking with awkward, jittery steps full of anticipation.
"It's a lot brighter than what you said it would be, Vice-Captain Ojiro."
That was Rina—one of my subordinates and also one of the team wives—speaking up.
"We're officially off-duty outside the base, so drop the ranks and titles."
"Yes, ma'am."
I quickly corrected her.
"It's either Ojiro-san or Ojiro-chan."
"What about Ojiro-sama?"
"Banned."
I've had enough of being fawned over by the fan club, constantly watched and nitpicked over every move I make.
"Then I'll go with Ojiro-san."
"That's acceptable."
I nodded.
"You can tell there's a man around here just by looking at the streets. That alone is enough to stir things up."
It's been twenty years since Grandpa Kohaku passed. I'm 28 now. Back when I was a kid, this place used to be a charming regional town full of smiling faces. But by the time I became an adult, it had turned into a respectable semi-ghost town.
So, feeling hopeless about my hometown, I ended up joining the Self-Defense Force with my sister Hakuto, lured in by the posters of handsome recruiters and promises of a dorm with food and shelter. Before I knew it, I was being marked as a promising officer.
Then came the rotation system—designed to prevent factionalism—where candidates for high-ranking positions get assigned to remote regions. I got sent to the northern tip of Hokkaido, ended up earning some solid accolades, got used for PR, and after conveniently taking down a suspicious foreign aircraft that matched the briefing, I was "reassigned" under the guise of disciplinary transfer. That brought me here, to serve as a bodyguard for the mysterious Misago and Hachikuma's husband, Hisui.
When we got to the base, Hakuto ran off yelling, "You handle the greetings and setup—I'll go talk to Grandma Yata!" So here I am, handling the preparations.
We took over several buildings—well, technically bought them at a steep discount—around the old central shopping street, which includes our beloved hometown landmark, the "Birdhouse Inn." Ever since Grandpa Kohaku passed away, this place has been seriously ghosted. The real estate was dirt cheap.
Renting would've meant haggling over price increases later, so we added a little extra and bought it outright. Honestly, the former owners were all acquaintances anyway, so we were greeted warmly when we came back.
"That's how it is, huh."
"People get worked up just over one decent guy on the signboard."
Half exasperated, half impressed—and with a touch of loneliness—I murmured those words.
"This your hometown?"
"Yup. Same bloodline, tons of half-sisters—unless you're a distant relative, pretty much everyone knows each other."
I answered while unloading and unpacking boxes from the truck's container.
The ones who were directly inseminated stayed emotionally tied here, so they rarely left. With Kohaku gone, there wasn't much holding them back, but quite a few still stuck around.
The younger ones, who hadn't been "embraced" yet, were more like dandelion fluff—off they went, chasing new lands with youthful energy. That's how we ended up with this solid ghost town.
"Hello~! Mind if I have a minute?"
"Sure thing."
I responded to the voice outside and stepped out.
"Huh? Ojiro-chan?"
A vaguely familiar face I hadn't seen in a while greeted me.
"Wait... Mozu?"
Wearing a police uniform—it was Mozu, one of my half-sisters around my age.
"On duty today."
She flashed a grin and gave a salute before pulling out her police ID and holding it up.
"Ah, so you're a cop now."
"Suspicious person patrol month."
"Yeah, figures."
"If we see someone new, we have to say hi."
"Well then, here's mine."
I pulled out the IC card ID issued to Self-Defense Force personnel.
"Oh? One of us?"
"Broadly speaking, yeah."
We're both civil servants. Honestly, being underestimated as useless is kind of ideal.
"May I?"
"Go ahead."
She tapped my IC card lightly against the reader on her phone.
Beep.
A green light lit up with a soft sound.
"All good here."
We exchanged knowing grins.
"So, we're on the same page, right?"
"Yup."
"That guy—Hisui—Misago caught him, and now I'm assigned as his guard."
"I'm not exactly guarding him, but I am on heightened patrol for suspicious activity."
It's important to share intel when you're in the same line of work. We showed each other our cards.
"Anyway, looks like we've got the same ultimate goal, so let's work together as needed."
"Sounds good."
We shook hands firmly.