Haruka was slouched in her chair like a sad jellybean, staring at the blinking cursor on her screen as if it had personally offended her. She poked at the keyboard half-heartedly, sighing every three seconds in a dramatic attempt to summon inspiration. Her manuscript stared back at her, empty and judgmental.
Come on, Haruka, you can do this. One sentence. Just one teeny, tiny sentence. That's all it takes to start magic... right?
She puffed her cheeks, blew out a whiny little sigh, then dropped her head dramatically onto the desk with a muffled, "Uuuuugh."
After a moment, she peeked up at her phone, eyes sparkling with the same guilty anticipation as a child sneaking cookies before dinner.
Just one quick peek at RyoTakkun's stream... Just one!
Her finger hovered mid-air like it was bracing for impact—until the front door slammed open.
"STILL not writing?!" came Sayuri's voice, sharp, no-nonsense, and entirely too loud for Haruka's flustered state.
"Eeep!" Haruka squeaked, bolting upright like a startled kitten and fumbling with her phone. In her panic, it slipped from her fingers and bounced off her lap with a soft plop onto the carpet. "I—I was! I am! Totally working!"
Sayuri marched in, heels clicking, holding a bottle of wine in one hand and a terrifyingly thick folder in the other. Her eyes scanned the room like a detective assessing a crime scene.
She arched an eyebrow as she passed Haruka's screen. "Uh-huh. That's why your document still says 'Chapter Twelve' with zero words under it. A masterpiece of invisible ink, maybe?"
"I was just... warming up," Haruka mumbled, fidgeting with the sleeves of her oversized cardigan. "Creative stretching. Like yoga for the brain...?"
Sayuri didn't even blink. She calmly set the wine down, unplugged Haruka's router with surgical precision, and crossed her arms.
"HEY! That's illegal!" Haruka squealed, scrambling to her feet, arms flailing in helpless protest.
"That's editing," Sayuri replied flatly.
Haruka puffed her cheeks out again, looking every bit like an indignant squirrel. "I was just checking the weather! Honest!"
Sayuri's eyes narrowed. "Oh? So RyoTakkun does the five-day forecast now?"
Haruka's face turned crimson. "W-what?! No! That's not—He's just—He talks about the weather sometimes!"
"Right," Sayuri said, voice dripping with dry sarcasm. "Totally normal to get weather updates from a streamer who yells at his keyboard."
Haruka squirmed, grabbing the closest cushion and hugging it to her chest like a shield. "I-I'm not obsessed... he's just... funny, okay? Like—hilarious funny!"
Sayuri sat on the bed, crossed one leg over the other, and raised her glass like she was toasting to Haruka's downfall. "Cute and funny. Oh no. You've got it bad."
"I do not!" Haruka squeaked, hiding half her face behind the cushion. "I just—His voice is nice and... and the way he gets flustered when he loses is really... endearing..."
Sayuri blinked at her, then groaned into her glass. "You've named your future children, haven't you?"
"I—NO!" Haruka turned redder than her strawberry-printed pajamas. "Y-you take that back!"
Sayuri gave her a hard look. "Haru. I am your editor. I have seen you write ten-thousand-word love confessions in a single sitting. You expect me to believe you aren't imagining some dramatic 'oh no we fell into a blanket fort' scenario with this hoodie-wearing mystery man?"
Haruka let out a long, dramatic whine. "Okay, maybe I daydream a tiny bit, but I can stop anytime I want!"
Sayuri stood up slowly, hands on her hips. "Then stop. Right now. And write."
Haruka blinked up at her, wide-eyed. "N-now?"
"Yes, now."
"But my tea's cold... and Momo's sleeping to cheer me on... and—and I need snacks first—"
"No excuses. You've had three days and no progress. You've been twirling in circles, watching streams, and giggling at gamer boys instead of writing a single word."
"I wasn't giggling," Haruka muttered, cheeks puffed. "It was more of a... dignified chuckle."
Sayuri ignored her and pointed at the laptop. "Sit. Write. Or I'm going to start reading your own fanfiction out loud in a dramatic voice."
Haruka gasped. "You wouldn't dare."
"Chapter one: 'As the moonlight glistened on his pixelated armor, RyoTakkun whispered—'"
"NOOOOO!" Haruka threw herself at the keyboard, slamming random keys in panic. "OKAY, OKAY, I'M WRITING, STOP!"
Sayuri grinned in victory and took another sip of wine. "That's more like it."
After a beat, her tone softened—just barely.
"Look, Haru. I get it. You like him. He's mysterious, he's got that dumb cool voice, and he says stuff that makes you blush when you least expect it. But you're not going to get anywhere if you keep hiding behind a screen."
Haruka peeked over the edge of her laptop, voice soft. "I'm not hiding…"
"You kinda are," Sayuri said, nudging her lightly with her foot. "You need real-life chaos. That's how your stories come alive. Not by fangirling until midnight."
Haruka groaned and let her face fall onto her keyboard again. "Why are you always right... and mean... and scary...?"
Sayuri, clearly not bothered by Haruka's angst, leaned forward, eyes sparkling mischievously. "Well, if you can't focus on your writing, at least you can enjoy some real-life chaos."
Before Haruka could react, Sayuri grabbed a pillow off the bed and threw it straight at her face.
"What the—?!" Haruka yelped as the soft cushion hit her squarely on the nose.
Sayuri leaned back and smirked. "You know what they say—if you can't focus on your book, you might as well start a pillow fight."
Haruka stared at her for a moment, utterly bewildered. But then... a spark of mischief flickered in her eyes.
"Oh, it's on," Haruka declared, grabbing the nearest pillow and swinging it with all her might.
And just like that, the chaos began.
The Pillow Fight of the Century.
Haruka swung with all her strength, but Sayuri was quick, dodging the hit and retaliating with an uppercut to Haruka's side. The impact was so dramatic that Haruka stumbled back, but before she could recover, Sayuri pounced, pinning her down with a pillow that was way too heavy for comfort.
"Oh no you don't!" Haruka grunted, wriggling out from underneath her. She grabbed another pillow and whacked Sayuri across the back of the head, sending her flying forward.
"This means war, Granny!" Haruka shouted, not holding back. "Prepare to meet your doom!"
Sayuri's eyes gleamed with mock seriousness. "Granny? Is that your best shot? You're going down, kid."
The two of them continued to swing wildly, the room quickly turning into a battlefield of flying pillows. Haruka was nimble, darting across the room like an athlete, while Sayuri, though older, was surprisingly strong and relentless. Their rivalry had officially crossed the line into full-blown warfare.
Momo, who just woke up, was having the time of his life. He darted around the room, barking excitedly as he tried to grab any pillow that came his way. He jumped onto the bed, accidentally launching himself into the air and landing directly on top of one of the pillows.
"No! Momo, not the pillow—!" Haruka shrieked, but it was too late. Momo had already claimed it as his prize, rolling on it like a fluffy, overzealous tank.
"Oh my god," Sayuri laughed, dodging another pillow from Haruka. "Even the dog is more useful than you right now!"
Haruka scowled. "You're so going down, Sayuri! Just wait—you'll regret messing with me!"
The two of them circled each other, both out of breath and covered in scattered pillows. Haruka's hair was a mess, her face flushed from the intensity of the fight, while Sayuri was no better—her normally pristine appearance was now a chaotic jumble of tangled hair and wrinkled clothes.
Haruka swung again, but this time, Sayuri blocked her attack and shoved her onto the bed. Haruka bounced up immediately, grabbing another pillow from the floor.
"You think you've won?" Haruka said, panting. "Think again!"
Sayuri took a dramatic step back, holding her pillow in a high stance like it was a weapon. "It's not over until I say it is."
But before either could make their next move, Momo, the ultimate wildcard, leapt between them, barking furiously as if he was the judge of this epic showdown.
"Okay, okay! We'll call it a tie!" Haruka gasped, finally surrendering, but still holding her pillow up as if ready for round two. "But this isn't over."
"Deal," Sayuri grinned, dropping her weapon and falling onto the bed in exhaustion.
But as soon as Haruka relaxed, thinking the battle was over... Sayuri struck.
With a mischievous smirk, Sayuri grabbed the pillow and, in one swift motion, landed a soft but undeniably victorious hit to Haruka's head.
"This," Sayuri said with exaggerated drama, "is what happens when you challenge the queen of pillow fights."
Haruka blinked in confusion, but then Sayuri, with a sly grin, perched herself on Haruka's chest, holding both pillows high above them.
"Oh no, no, no. You lose," Sayuri declared. "And the punishment for losing is simple."
Haruka groaned, her cheeks puffing up as she glared up at Sayuri. "Punishment? You've got to be kidding."
"I never kid when it comes to pillow fights," Sayuri said with a smirk, tossing one pillow aside and gently squeezing Haruka's cheeks like she was a toddler. "You're staying here and writing your manuscript with no distractions."
"But Sayuri—!" Haruka squeaked, her voice muffled as Sayuri squeezed harder, her fingers pinching like they were forming a toddler face.
"No buts," Sayuri said, winking. "You wanted chaos? Now you'll get it—the chaos of writing, my dear."
Haruka sighed, defeated but still amused. "Okay, okay, I get it... Granny."
Sayuri grinned and gave Haruka's cheeks one final squeeze before getting off her. "Good. Now get to work."