I have an unlimited number of shikigami

Kasahara Asuka, who was standing to the side, was dumbfounded.

“You heard that, right? It was her request.” Fujiwara Izaya looked at his junior with sympathy.

"Mom is so cunning!" Kasahara Asuka puffed out her cheeks and glared angrily. "First, she tied Asuka's belt herself, and then she made her senior tie it for her! Ugh, how awful!"

“This is the wisdom of life.” Mrs. Kasahara looked very pleased and seemed to be thoroughly enjoying teasing her daughter.

Fujiwara Izaya took the belt and went around to Mrs. Kasahara's back.

A waist belt, as wide as a palm, was wrapped around her waist, tightening slowly to perfectly outline the shape of her breasts.

Her snow-white nape, set against her black kimono and thick black hair, resembled a bewitching black rose in full bloom.

"Huh, I can't tie the knot, Mother, please wait a moment..." Fujiwara Izaya awkwardly tugged at the two ends of the obi, looking quite annoyed. However, a gleam of pleasure shone in his eyes, and he had no intention of letting go so quickly.

"Senpai!" Kasahara Asuka called out unhappily.

Oops.

My little scheme was exposed by my junior.

But it's okay, my mother didn't say no, so why should I care about what a child like you thinks?

"By the way," Fujiwara Izaya said, gently placing his hands on Mrs. Kasahara's waist as if to divert the mother and daughter's attention, "how is the restoration of the ancient temple progressing?"

“The disobedient old man is out.” Mrs. Kasahara leaned back slightly, her voice relaxed. “Replace him with someone younger and more obedient. Don’t plead with me about this; once you disobey the chairman, no one can change your mind.”

As she tilted her head back, her elegantly styled hair at the back of her head touched the tip of Fujiwara Izaya's nose.

Smelling the faint fragrance of her hair, Fujiwara Izaya felt a tightness in his chest and said in a muffled voice, "Why should I plead for him? As the most loyal ally of the Kasasahara family, I support all of Kasasahara-neechan's decisions."

"You're all talk." Mrs. Kasahara gently patted his hand that was resting on her waist.

"Oops, I tied it wrong again." Fujiwara Izaya looked annoyed.

That damn slender waist, he had to work really hard to resist the urge to hold her tightly.

Mrs. Kasahara smiled.

"If you can make your sister happy tonight, she'll let you play with her for ten minutes while she's wearing this mourning outfit."

Am I that kind of person?

"Twenty minutes." Mrs. Kasahara's tone was ambiguous, her hand gently stroking her swollen breasts.

Fujiwara Izaya immediately replied, "Deal!"

"Hmph!" Kasahara Asuka kicked her senior's butt.

"Asuka's jealous again." Fujiwara Izaya tied his belt and reluctantly loosened his grip on Mrs. Kasahara's waist.

Just then, Mrs. Kasahara leaned over and whispered in his ear, "Being a womanizer is not something to be encouraged."

"Wait a minute, where am I a womanizer?" Fujiwara Izaya said without batting an eye.

When Mrs. Kasahara heard him say that, her expression gradually turned stern.

"How dare you be so self-righteous! That's unacceptable!" She grabbed Fujiwara Izaya's ear with one hand, her expression furious. "Today, you have to choose one of us: mother or daughter. You need to give us an explanation!"

"Pain Pain!"

The mother and daughter tormented Fujiwara Izaya for a while before laughing and letting him go.

"Alright, sit down."

"Ah."

Asuka Kasahara wiped the sweat from her forehead, leaned on her mother's shoulder, and asked, "Why are we going to worship those two little monks? Don't you think it's boring?"

"Sigh, Xiangxiang is really too spoiled." Mrs. Kasahara pressed her fingers to her cheek and sighed softly as if she had a headache. Then she turned her head and, with a worried frown, instructed Fujiwara Izaya, "What kind of father are you to remain silent? Hurry up and discipline your daughter."

Fujiwara Izaya: "..."

"Mom, why are you acting like a child!" Kasahara Asuka buried her face in her mother's arms.

Mrs. Kasahara gently lifted her youngest daughter onto her lap, her eyes sparkling with laughter: "It's been so long since I've held Xiangxiang like this, you're so heavy..."

"It would be troublesome if I got fat like Mom," Kasahara Asuka chuckled.

“If Mom wasn’t fat, how could she carry Xiangxiang? She’s all grown up now.” Mrs. Kasahara patted her daughter’s warm, youthful back gently through her mourning clothes, as if embracing everything. “But it’s not good that she’s grown up. Although she still clings to Mom, she now has another boy to cling to besides Mom.”

At this point, the lady glanced at Fujiwara Izaya again.

The intense, melancholic atmosphere of a woman confined to her boudoir sent shivers down Fujiwara Izaya's spine and stirred a deep emotion within him.

Omg!

This noble woman has too many facets.

Such rich emotions and superb acting skills should not be wasted on others.

Out of a father's responsibility, Fujiwara Izaya said sternly to his youngest daughter, "They sacrificed themselves to uphold justice, and they deserve our respect. As the saying goes, 'The night is long and dark, but even when our strength is insufficient, there are still those who light the way...'"

Before she could finish speaking, Asuka Kasahara chuckled and wriggled her body.

"It itches, Mom, don't scratch Xiangxiang..."

"Don't move, let Mom hold you a little longer," Mrs. Kasahara said, holding her tightly. The mother and daughter huddled together, ignoring Fujiwara Izaya who was only halfway through his sentence, and began to whisper among themselves.

Asuka was spoiled by you like this... Fujiwara Izaya tilted his head, gazing at his beautiful mother and lively, adorable daughter.

In his mind, he saw the scene of them paying their respects at the tombstone, while he stood silently behind them, looking at the photo on the tombstone and saying in his heart: Go in peace, I will take good care of them, mother and daughter.

Tsk tsk.

It feels so perverted.

After slipping out of Kasahara and her daughter's room, Fujiwara Izaya rushed into Hoshimi and her daughter's room.

His wife and senior had already changed their clothes, which he found a little regrettable, but it didn't matter, he hadn't changed yet.

“You’re too late.” Mrs. Hoshimi looked at him and teased, “If you had been three or five minutes earlier, you could have seen Rinko’s body.”

"What a pity." Fujiwara Izaya slapped his forehead in frustration. "My senior is secondary. The main thing is that I missed Hoshimi-neechan."

"Oh my," Mrs. Hoshimi said happily, covering her mouth with her hand, "To be noticed by such a handsome young man is definitely worth celebrating with a drink. Shall we go together tonight?"

Hoshimi Rinko stared at him with icy eyes.

“Of course,” Fujiwara Izaya said with a smile, “Being with you reminds me of the time I spent with my mother when I was a child.”

"Mmm." Mrs. Hoshimi became even happier.

“Her mother has flat chests!” Rinko Hoshimi suddenly said.

Mrs. Hoshimi's smile froze.

"Fujiwara-kun, I wish you would die tonight!" she said angrily.

"Hahaha!" From the room of the Kasahara mother and daughter, came Mrs. Kasahara's cheerful laughter and the sound of her hand slapping the tatami.

"Size and such really don't matter," Fujiwara Izaya explained to Mrs. Hoshimi, who was about to explode. "It's all about the vibe!"

"How about Himeko does the same as me?"

"let it go."

"Tsk tsk, double standards..." Mrs. Hoshimi gave him a disdainful look with a charming air.

“It really is the temperament that matters more.” Fujiwara Izaya had no choice but to continue explaining, “Himeko is the noble and charming type of woman, and she needs great talent to complement her temperament. But you, Miko, are the refined and quiet type, and being too big would actually ruin that elegant temperament.”

"You pass." Mrs. Hoshimi stopped arguing with him.

Don't you think it's inappropriate for you to discuss breast size with my mother...? Hoshimi Rinko coughed lightly, her eyes cold: "Fujiwara-san, please stop now."

"I'm going to change my clothes." Fujiwara Izaya turned around and went back to his room.

There was a kimono prepared on the bed. He had just changed into it and hadn't even had time to tie it properly when the sliding door on Hoshimi and her daughter's side opened. Mrs. Hoshimi pulled her daughter's wrist over and said, "You help Fujiwara-kun get dressed."

Fujiwara Izaya hesitated, "Isn't this a bad idea? (Well done!)"

"If I, as her mother, don't give her a hand, she'll lose everything." Mrs. Hoshimi tossed her daughter over like trash, then slammed the door shut.

The setting sun streamed quietly into the room through the window, and a gentle breeze occasionally swayed the white curtains.

The temperature inside the house was a bit high. Tulips, anemones, poppies and other flowers of various colors planted in the courtyard were vying for beauty in the flowerbed, and the wind blew the fragrance of the flowers into the house.

Hoshimi Rinko let out a deep sigh, as if it were squeezed from her entire body. She rubbed her palms together, then awkwardly approached Fujiwara Izaya, her cheeks slightly flushed.

"Step back a little, don't move around." She whispered, wrapping her arms around his waist to tie his belt.

The two are eight centimeters apart in height.

Fujiwara Izaya lowered his head, looking down at his senior's face. Her hair carried the scent of gardenias. Even her simple clothes had a bright and cheerful feel on her, and her slender neck exuded youthful energy.

“Only wives tie their husbands’ belts,” he suddenly said.

Hoshimi Rinko suddenly stopped.

A beautiful, youthful, and dreamlike figure, eyes wide open, cheeks slightly flushed, standing there in a daze, full of innocent longing.

Sunlight streaming through the window mingled with the scents of earth, flowers, and the sea, creating a tranquil and clear atmosphere. Hoshimi Rinko pursed her lips, took a few breaths, and tilted her head back: "Raise your head a little, let me straighten my collar."

Fujiwara Izanagi remained motionless.

"Raise it higher!"

I said it again, but he still didn't move.

"Damn it!" Hoshimi Rinko cursed angrily, suppressing her embarrassment as she gently lifted his chin and used her other hand to straighten his collar.

"You look really good in mourning clothes, senior," Fujiwara Izaya said, squinting.

"Don't say such nonsense!" Hoshimi Rinko scolded him.

"Senior, can I have a hug?"

"..."

Hoshimi Rinko cautiously took a step back.

She gripped Fujiwara Izaya's collar with her left hand, her right index finger spread wide, the tip pointing upwards at his chin, her wrist trembling. It seemed as if only her fingers had any strength left; her flushed cheeks were charmingly shy.

If it were a junior student, Fujiwara Rin would have kissed her too.

Unfortunately, she's an upperclassman. A dignified and beautiful upperclassman is no little bitch. She wouldn't let Fujiwara Izaya hug her so easily.

"Your hair is so beautiful, senior." He could only coax and plead with you little by little.