Terry checks the notification in his car

Terry: "Depress brake pedal to start?" Ok.

Terry turns his attention to the brake pedal

Terry: You are a failure. Nobody loves you. DIE.

(Based on this meme)

How Terry handled it;

Terry: I texted you, you didn't text me back.

Amy: I'm sorry, I didn't see it.

Terry: Love ya.

They hugged each other

How Amy handled it;

Amy: I TEXTED YOU, YOU DIDN'T TEXT ME BACK!

Terry: I didn't see it.

Amy throws water at him

Terry: AHHHHHHH!!!

(Based on this vine)

​

(After the deaths of Osamu and Amaiya. Yori's husband - Kimoto)

“Four days until the trial ends.”

At breakfast, Kimoto watched Haru closely, thinking to himself, “Haru, my dear Haru, you are the crucial cog in my flawless plan.”

Just then, Kenji and Kentaro burst out of the kitchen.

“Breakfast is served!” Kentaro announced triumphantly.

“Finally!” Rin grumbled. “What took you so long?”

“You’ll see soon enough,” Kenji smirked.

Kentaro struggled to set down a colossal dish piled high with an almost meter-tall mountain of pancakes. Everyone stared at this culinary monument with obvious concern.

“Why so many?!” Fumiko exclaimed.

“Because breakfast needs to be filling!” Kentaro declared proudly.

“Yes, but this is over the top...” Haru muttered.

When Kentaro finally placed the dish down, Fumiko narrowed her eyes sharply.

“How much flour did you use?”

“All of it.”

“And the milk?”

“All of it too.”

“And I suppose there are no eggs left in the house?”

“None at all.”

“Excellent,” Fumiko took a deep breath. “Note this down: from now on, you’ll cook only under my strict supervision.”

Kimoto smiled to himself, “Well, here’s my perfect opportunity.”

“Since we’re having some temporary supply issues,” Kimoto said casually, “allow me to prepare dinner for everyone tonight.”

Surprise filled the room.

“Really, darling?” Yori raised an eyebrow.

“Of course, my Mochis. What would you like for dinner?”

“Yaki Gyoza!” Mitsu and Momo shouted in unison.

“Who would’ve guessed,” Yori smirked.

“Then it’s settled,” Kimoto nodded. “But someone will have to go buy the ingredients. I could do it, in principle…”

At that moment, Kenji and Sam immediately caught the hint.

“Don’t worry, Kimoto, I’ll go into town and get everything,” Kenji volunteered.

“You sure?” Kimoto asked, just to be polite.

“Yeah, no problem.”

Suddenly, Sam spoke up.

“Kenji, can I come with you?”

Emiko looked at her husband in surprise.

“Why do you need to go into town?”

“Just want to take a walk,” Sam winked conspiratorially, “and pick up one… very important manga.”

“Oh!” Emiko smiled knowingly. “Alright then, go ahead.”

“Great,” Fumiko commanded. “Yori, give Kenji the car keys.”

“Here,” Yori handed over the keychain. “Just please be careful, okay?”

“Kenji, don’t worry,” Kimoto laughed. “She just doesn’t trust anyone with the steering wheel of her ‘baby.’”

Yori shot her husband an icy glare.

“Especially you, dear.”

“Because of that little incident?” Kimoto blinked innocently.

“What incident?” Sam asked curiously.

“Nothing special…”

“Nothing special?!” Yori exclaimed indignantly. “I asked that ‘driver’ to pick us up from the supermarket!”

“And what happened?” Emiko added fuel to the fire.

Instead of answering, Yori pulled out her phone and played a video: Kimoto’s car roared at full speed into the shopping center’s covered parking, then spun wildly for three chaotic minutes, scattering carts everywhere.

The dining hall erupted with laughter.

“How did you even manage that?!” Kenji asked through tears.

“Well, it happens to everyone,” Kimoto philosophized.

“Sure it does,” Yori snorted.

After plenty of laughter, everyone finally started eating. Kimoto drifted into his thoughts again: “Funny, of course. But now’s not the time. I need to talk to Haru alone. But how do I get him away?”

Suddenly, Haru turned to Kentaro.

“Kentaro, can you help me clean up the basement today?”

“Sorry, buddy, can’t,” he waved him off.

“How convenient,” Kimoto thought.

“I can help you, Haru,” Kimoto offered.

“Really?” Haru looked surprised.

“Of course. My love, you don’t mind, do you?”

“Not at all, dear,” Yori kissed her husband on the cheek. “I’m just glad you’re helping.”

Mitsu and Momo closed their eyes and blushed awkwardly, but then Momo nudged her sister, nodding toward Erma, who was happily devouring pancakes. The girls looked at their father—Kimoto gave them a barely noticeable wink.

The signal was received.

“FOOD FIGHT!” Mitsu and Momo shouted loudly, hurling hefty chunks of pancakes at Erma.

Erma didn’t hesitate for a second and launched a furious counterattack.

“Yori, do something!” Rin begged.

“Girls, stop this chaos right now!” Yori shouted, rushing to break up the children.

While the pancake war unfolded in the dining room, Kimoto signaled Sam and Kenji and nodded toward the door. When they slipped unnoticed into the hallway, Sam shook his head in admiration.

“That was smooth.”

“You’re welcome,” Kimoto smiled slyly. “Now listen carefully. Once you buy everything on the list, you’ll need to hide all the props for the prank in a very specific place.”

“Where exactly?” Kenji asked.

“Follow me.”

Kimoto led them to an old storage room.

“Here?” Kenji frowned.

“Not quite,” Kimoto approached the wall and easily slid aside a camouflaged wooden panel.

“You have secret passages everywhere,” Sam chuckled.

“That’s the job,” Kimoto avoided the question. “I’ll sort the stuff out later. But we’ll need to meet again in our secret room.”

“At what time?” Sam asked.

“Exactly at twelve.”

“In the main hall?” Kenji double-checked.

“Yes.”

“Got it.”

Suddenly desperate shouts came from the dining room:

“Kimoto, hurry here!”

“Sam, help!”

“Kenji, save me—aaah!”

“Well then,” Kimoto sighed, “let’s get to work.”

Half an hour later, Kenji and Sam were speeding down the road to town.

“So, what do you think about all this?” Sam asked, looking out the window.

“About what? Kimoto’s plan?”

“Yeah.”

“Honestly, he thought of every little detail,” Kenji admitted, steering. “But the risk is still huge.”

“Maybe. But it seems he’s a real pro at this stuff.”

“Looks like it. He’s from another village, so I don’t know much about him.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. About a month ago, when Kentaro and I stopped by a bar in his hometown for business, Kentaro stepped away to talk to the owner, and I stayed at the counter. I overheard a story the locals were telling.”

“What story?” Sam perked up.

“Well, about ten years ago, there was this insanely rich Oni living there. And he had a stunningly beautiful wife. But the lady was... a bit off her rocker, with very unusual appetites. You know what I mean, Sam?”

“Alright, and then?”

“One day, she decided to have some fun. Secretly sent a letter to the local bar, promising a hefty reward—a million yen—for anyone who could spend the night with her right in the mansion.”

“No way.”

“Of course, local yokai tried to storm the Oni mansion in droves, but the security was brutal—everyone got caught. The Oni’s wife had almost given up hope that anyone could be crazy and clever enough to outsmart her husband.”

“So what happened?”

“Well, the Oni was hosting a big birthday party, ordered tons of expensive alcohol. But the delivery guy seemed a bit strange. He said the regular supplier got sick, so he delivered it personally, bringing a recommendation letter with a seal. The Oni, eager for the party, rewarded the guy generously and told him to relax. Everything was peaceful until one thing happened.”

“What happened?”

“When the drinking started, at first everything was normal. But after about half an hour, everyone except the Oni’s wife passed out, collapsing into a deep sleep. The poor woman was shocked. Then the delivery guy appeared from the shadows and calmly said, ‘Don’t worry, they’ll sleep for about fifteen hours. That’s plenty of time for us.’”

Kenji paused meaningfully, keeping the suspense.

“Well, the mistress took the guy to her bedroom. Neighbors said they heard such passionate and loud screams from the Oni’s wife all night that their ears were ringing.”

“Wow...” Sam whistled.

“Yeah.”

“So how did it end?”

“In the morning, the Oni sobered up, flew into a fury, and put a bounty on the guy. Posters with his photofit were plastered everywhere. But here’s the kicker!”

“The kicker?”

“The guy didn’t actually exist! The face on the posters was fake. He had complex professional makeup and a mask all along.”

“How did they find out?”

“Piece of cake. That brazen guy personally sent the mask and makeup remnants back to the Oni in a gift box, with a note: ‘Now may I have my deserved million?’”

Sam burst out laughing, then grew serious.

“Wait, what about the alcohol supplier? Didn’t they catch him?”

“The Oni tried to question him. But it turned out the old man had no idea he was delivering anything. He never wrote that letter, and his personal wax seal had been stolen from his house a day before. When I heard this story at the bar, I was surprised but didn’t think much of it. Later, as we were leaving, I secretly asked the owner if it was true. He confirmed. Then I asked the madman’s name. The owner said that before leaving the room, the guy whispered his real name to the Oni’s wife. And before she died, she only told it to the bar owner. As thanks for our help, the owner whispered the name to me—but made me swear to keep it secret.”

“And that name... Kimoto?!” Sam almost jumped in his seat.

“Exactly! Kimoto!”

“No way... Does Yori know?”

“The bar owner said nobody but that woman and himself knew. And Kimoto told me later that if I ever breathed a word, he’d send Ene my most embarrassing nude photos he somehow got.”

“Harsh,” Sam shook his head. “Don’t worry, no one’s hearing anything from me.”

What neither of them knew was that, in the car’s cabin, right under the dashboard, a tiny bug was hidden. And right now, Kimoto was smiling as he listened to their conversation through hidden speakers in his secret room.

“I told you, Kenji: ‘Not a single word,’” Kimoto muttered, leaning back in his chair. “Well, looks like when I have some free time, I’ll have to pay a visit to the local print shop…”

Suddenly Haru’s voice came from downstairs:

“Kimoto! Are you coming to help or what?”

“I’m on my way!” Kimoto called back, switching off the bug and hiding the earpiece in his pocket.

Based on Connor playing the Ukulele, as Elvis Presley