As well as a shocking request.

Having the whole bar to themselves felt strange, just the three of them.

The place was spacious, with high ceilings and big windows, but some areas were blocked off with crate dividers. The grungy industrial vibe went well with all the neon lights that Sora, in surrender to present design trends, put up all over.

Digital displays and screens flickered, some displaying muted TV channels, others showing test patterns and lines of static. It wasn’t like he’d heard rumors of ghosts in the machine lately, and wanted to try to catch one on his TVs, leaving them on and recording at all hours. Or anything like that.

Anyway! Friends or not, Sora wasn’t going to put up a pair of internationally-fantasized idols in his tiny hotbox of an apartment above.

That was little more than this place’s attic!

Though he needed no more space for himself, having company over was different.

“You called me on short notice, so I’m guessing this is for more than keeping up our social link,” The tuxedo-clad Sora said, even as he brought out his hearty, steaming home-cooked dishes and set them out on the countertop.

“Quite right… but we’ve worked up a powerful hunger after today’s performance.”

Ya Liao, the ‘handsome black devil’, settled into a stool with a gracious flourish, brushing aside a strand of her long bangs from naturally-glowing eyes. Her wife, the ‘snow-white angel’ Hyun-ji, had more trouble setting down, given her love of skirts, and her ample curves and their tendency, even down below, to overflow.

She managed, though. Balance was fundamental for idols, as was putting on a brave face. Even though their mutual concern over something was as obvious to Sora as a red signal flare climbing skywards, they were all smiles on the surface.

Both of them were obviously relieved to let out their wings, and it was a sight.

Hyun-ji’s face lit up, and she took in a deep breath that strained even a casual white sweater custom-fitted to her enormous bust. “Mmh! Uh, you did make sure to cross-reference with that diet information our doctor sent along, right..? Some of this stuff looks…”

“Who do you think you’re talking to?” Sora huffed, cutely pouting. “C’mon, truth is, I’m starving as well. Let’s eat!”

“Sora’s still a stick,” Ya said, taking her hands from their natural habitat, inside her own charcoal-grey hoodie. She wore her usual fingerless gloves. “So there’s your proof, babe. Eating his cooking doesn’t make you fat. Quite the opposite. We can relax for once and just eat until we’re actually full, what a revolutionary concept.”

The kitsune barkeep only noticed a few minor errors in the meal as he was eating it, and he made sure to keep his mouth firmly shut as he chewed his fish. It was the sort of truly minor things that only he could have known went wrong; like any artist, he was his own harshest self-critic.

He hadn’t lived long enough to purge himself of such mental self-destruction, but he’d avoid giving anyone else extra ammo. Not to mention occasionally taking pride; the miso was piping-hot and decadently tasty.

Should be, given how many real, grown ingredients I sprung for.

Ya and Hun-ji certainly voiced no complaints with the presentation, nor the expertly-mixed drinks presented alongside. It was a bar, after all, and Sora’s job was first and foremost to help people forget their troubles by getting smashed.

Though he expected a more casual evening of friendly, social drinking, the bewitchingly feminine angel Hyun-ji especially knocked back all the booze that Sora put in front of her, with the kind of zest for intoxication he only normally saw with people who stumbled in off the mean streets, down on their luck.

Given the concert was a smashing success, and Sora had seen that with his own two brain-eyes, that wasn’t it. At least, when the spotlights were on.

Being friends with idols and sharing regular group chats, facetimes, and text chains meant hearing the endless war stories from that mythical realm, ‘backstage’. Considering the sheer insanity of show business, it could have been anything. To try and tease out the problem, Sora started with standard small-talk.

How’s work? It’s work. How’s your work? Oh, it’s work, too.

“Every day, I’m thankful I found something I actually enjoy doing with my life,” Ya huffed. “I mean, something that wasn’t gonna get me shot. For a while there, I wasn’t sure I was gonna pull it off.”

“I dunno,” Sora said. “Did you see the headlines about those guys going after public figures, especially in entertainment?”

Hyun-ji let out a gentle maiden’s sigh. “Terrible. Simply terrible… terrorism for no other reason than jealousy at fame. The isolation of our modern world is a breeding ground for such extremism. Luckily, we’re worth so much to the Company that our protection is top-notch.”

“If all else fails,” Ya flexed one of ‘the guns’, “I’ll protect my girl from anything!”

Not just an idol’s idle boast; Ya Liao had come up on the streets of this floating assortment of platforms and artificial islands. Infernals of any stripe, especially devil-types, didn’t have it easy there.

Okay, so they weren’t worried about getting shot, at least not above the general background radiation of celebrity caution towards insane fans.

That was good!

“Speaking of the fringe,” Ya turned it back around on him. “Still letting that club of nerds hang out here? This would normally be the hour for them to come in and plan their vigilante stuff.”

“Naturally,” Sora said, “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Legitimate business only within these walls; getting drunk, passing out, ruining the bathrooms.

Uh, relatedly? If you need the restroom, I strongly advise against the ones down here. We had some talking dogs come in over the weekend and… look. It’s a process. Upstairs in my apartment is fine.

But! All that said, if this was the secret headquarters of the Red Street Guards, then clearly I told them to take a hike today. Any actual time we can spend together is well worth the effort to set it up.”

“Clearly, we agree, or we wouldn’t be here,” Ya grinned. “Though as you figured, today’s different. I’ll give it to you straight. We need your help, man.”

Sora nodded. “For you two? Anything, duh.”

Hyun-ji fidgeted. “Anything?”

“Anything. My word is my bond, and-”

“Please, kind sir, let me drink your cum!”

Sora stared for a while between a pair of suddenly-sheepish lesbians. Especially the gorgeous white-haired woman, who was by the way married, to the woman sitting right next to her, who had just proclaimed that.