Sato Busujima woke to a world that felt like it was trying to split his skull open. A pounding headache throbbed at his temples, accompanied by a strange, incessant buzzing in his ears, as if a hive of bees had taken up residence in his brain. He groaned, rolling over in his tangled sheets, one hand slapping against his forehead as if he could swat the pain away.
“Ugh, what the hell did I do last night?” he muttered, his voice gravelly with sleep. “Did I drink? Did I get hit by a truck? Did I—ow, damn it!” He winced as a particularly sharp throb pulsed through his head. With a sigh, he dragged himself upright, only to nearly topple over as his feet tangled in the mess of blankets. “Idiot legs, can you not betray me for five seconds?” he grumbled, catching himself on the edge of the bed.
Stumbling like a newborn deer, Sato shuffled toward the bathroom, rubbing at his eyes. But before he could reach the door, a voice—loud, sharp, and distinctly not his own—cut through the buzzing in his head. “If I have to do one more load of laundry because of this boy’s filthy socks, I’m gonna start charging him rent.”
He froze, blinking dumbly at the empty room. That was his mother’s voice, no question about it. Reina Busujima’s tone was unmistakable—equal parts exasperated and commanding, like a general barking orders at a particularly incompetent soldier. But she wasn’t here. His bedroom was empty, the door still shut tight.
“What the…?” Sato mumbled, his brow furrowing. He cracked the door open and peeked into the hallway, half-expecting to see her standing there with a laundry basket and a death glare. Nothing. Just the faint hum of the house and the distant clatter of dishes from downstairs. And yet, her voice rang out again, clear as day. “Look at this room. A pigsty! Does he think I’m his personal maid? I ought to make him scrub the floors with a toothbrush.”
Sato’s jaw dropped so hard he was surprised it didn’t hit the carpet. “No way,” he whispered, clutching the doorframe. “No freaking way. I’m hearing her thoughts. Her actual thoughts. What is this, some kinda comic book crap?” His heart raced as the realization sank in, a mix of dread and fascination twisting in his gut.
He crept downstairs, each step deliberate as if he might accidentally shatter whatever weird reality he’d woken up in. The smell of sizzling bacon and fresh coffee wafted from the kitchen, and there she was—Reina Busujima, in all her formidable glory. A stunning brunette with curves that could stop traffic, she stood at the stove, spatula in hand, her presence filling the room like a storm cloud with a silver lining. Even in a simple apron over a fitted blouse and jeans, she looked like she could command a boardroom or a battlefield with equal ease.
Her thoughts hit him like a tidal wave before he even crossed the threshold. “This lazy lump of a son, sleeping till noon again. How did I raise such a sloth? Still, he’s my sloth. Gotta feed him before he wastes away.”
Sato hesitated in the doorway, his mind reeling. He couldn’t just stand there gawking, though. He had to test this… whatever this was. Clearing his throat, he focused hard on a simple thought, projecting it with all the mental energy he could muster. *I could really use a glass of juice right now.*
To his utter shock, Reina didn’t even look up from the pan. She just reached for the fridge with an absentminded hum, pulled out the orange juice, and poured a glass, sliding it across the counter toward him. “There you go, sleepyhead. Don’t say I never do anything for you.”
“Holy crap,” Sato breathed, staring at the glass like it was a holy relic. His voice came out louder than intended, and Reina finally glanced over, one perfectly arched brow raised.
“What’s with the face? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Or did you just realize you forgot to do your homework again?” Her tone was sharp, but there was a glint of amusement in her dark eyes.
“Uh, no, I just—thanks for the juice,” he stammered, grabbing the glass to hide his flustered expression. His mind was racing. If that worked, what else could he do? Emboldened, he focused again, this time on something a little more playful. *A morning hug would be nice. Just a quick one.*
Reina turned from the stove, wiping her hands on her apron with a smirk that could cut glass. “Come here, you big oaf. Don’t think I can’t tell you’re fishing for attention.” Before he could protest, she pulled him into a warm, squishy embrace, her arms strong and unyielding. The scent of her jasmine perfume mixed with the faint smokiness of bacon, and Sato’s face went redder than a stoplight.
Her thoughts trickled into his head, teasing and warm. *What a big baby. Thinks he can just bat those puppy eyes and get whatever he wants. Well, fine, just this once.*
“Geez, Mom, you’re gonna crush me,” he mumbled into her shoulder, though he made no move to pull away.
“Oh, hush. You’re lucky I don’t crush you for leaving your socks on the couch again,” she shot back, her voice dripping with mock severity. But her thoughts betrayed a softer edge, and Sato couldn’t help the grin spreading across his face.
He pushed a little further, his heart pounding as he focused on another silent request. *A kiss on the cheek, maybe? Just for luck.* He barely had time to second-guess himself before Reina chuckled, a low, throaty sound that made his stomach flip. She leaned in, pressing a quick, playful kiss to his cheek with an exaggerated eye-roll.
“There. Happy now, you spoiled brat?” she said aloud, stepping back to cross her arms. Her thoughts, though, hummed with a mix of irritation and affection. *Spoiled rotten, this one. But damn if he doesn’t know how to tug at my heartstrings.*
Sato’s grin turned downright idiotic, his cheeks burning. “Thanks, Mom. You’re the best.”
“Don’t push it, kid,” she warned, pointing the spatula at him like a weapon. “I’m not running a charity here. Now sit down before this bacon gets cold.”
He hesitated, the thrill of his newfound power buzzing under his skin. One last test, just to see. He focused gently, letting his thoughts linger on her warmth, her softness, the comforting closeness of her. *Just stay close a little longer. I like this.*
Reina’s expression softened, almost imperceptibly, as she reached out to ruffle his hair with a sigh. “You’re too clingy for your own good, you know that?” she muttered, her tone gruff but not unkind. She didn’t pull away, though, letting him linger in her space, her presence a grounding force amid the chaos in his head. Her thoughts whispered, *Can’t say no to that face, can I? Ugh, I’m too soft on him.*
Sato sat at the kitchen table, the glass of juice cold in his hands, his mind a whirlwind of excitement and nervousness. He’d just stumbled into something straight out of a sci-fi novel—a power to hear thoughts, to influence them, even. His headache still throbbed, the buzzing in his ears a constant reminder of this bizarre new reality. But as he watched Reina move around the kitchen, her commanding presence filling every corner of the room, a single question burned in his chest: just how far could this power go?
He took a sip of juice, the tangy sweetness doing little to cool the heat of anticipation building inside him. Whatever this was, he was about to find out.
Want to know how it ends?
This is just the opening chapter. Continue the saga — or write a steamy tale starring you.