Kasumi, the loyal, devoted housewife.

They had a perfectly-ordinary white Great War middle-class house, packed amongst others in one of the central residential streets spinning off Central Square. Given the lack of cars, it wasn’t surprising that most people lived within walking distance of everything. The Kasugais were within a mile of their livelihood.

Automail still wasn’t available for just any civilian who needed new legs, especially not a flicker; the wheelchair would always limit Hanzo Kasugai. Sasha couldn’t help being selfishly grateful he could still walk, grasp things with both hands, and was not parted from the mechanics of nature.

That was what brought him here in the first place, when a ‘normal’ relationship wouldn’t need this kind of assistance. Hell, Hanzo could have been the one to go through the program, removing the requirement for bringing in a stranger.

That might have been best for all involved, not to trouble themselves on his behalf.

The thought came through his mind when he saw how, unlike many of the other homes flanking theirs, the Kasugai residence didn’t have multiple stories. Then again, if Hanzo was fit for duty, both of the Kasugais would have volunteered to stand up for democracy alongside the Captain and her friends.

Where would that have gotten them?

The Major had always told him. These thoughts were worse than pointless.

They were paralyzing. Unfamiliar anxiety gripped hold of Sasha’s heart as he looked at the pastoral, slanted tile roof, polished windows, and little smiling welcome-mat beneath his feet. As well as the ramp he had climbed up to get onto the porch, and another that led into the widened front door.

He took a deep breath, and hit the doorbell.

He had to poke it a lot of times before the thick deadbolt unlatched, and even then, nobody actually swung it open to greet him. In fact, he didn’t hear anything behind there. Not even the sound of the bell when the button was pressed; were their walls soundproofed?

Invited in regardless, he stepped into the entranceway of this charming home.

Where knelt before him a gorgeous black-haired nekomata in the prime of her womanhood. Ears flattened back, tail wagging softly. Shoulders slumped forward demurely, wearing exactly nothing but a badly-straining white apron. She made sure her fingers formed a triangle before her on the floor, with well-manicured, long teal fingernails.

“Did you forget your key again? Honestly, darling. You’ve been out of sorts since Miki came back… Ah well.”

Sasha was too stunned to say anything, and Kasumi’s eyes had fluttered closed.

She leaned forward, taking what was now a familiar sight for the boy; a dogeza that pushed her bust deep into the well-swept hardwood floor. Which only elevated her generous, totally bare, obscenely thick ass into the air, and demonstrated the supple curve running all the way down her body. Her silky black hair pooled to the side, trailing back and doing nothing to obstruct this breathtaking view. Neither did that wagging black tail.

“Anyway. Welcome home, darling!~ Would you like dinner, a bath, or… me?”

With a suitably catlike grin, Kasumi Kasugai finally looked up, and then froze when she realized the man standing before her, watching this utterly traditional and by now habitual display of love and submission, was not in fact her husband.

It was the man she’d so brazenly invited to put a baby in her in Hanzo’s stead.

“M-Mister Sokolov?!”

“Please, just ‘Sasha’ will do. If you’re expecting somebody else, I can always-”

“N-Not at all!” Kasumi didn’t so much ‘spring to her feet’ as ‘spring to her knees’, remaining physically lowered even as she flustered into a red-faced panic. “It’s just… I just… That jerk!” Her husband being out of range, she shadowboxed the air a bit, before gathering her wits. “My apologies, good sir. Might I presume that you have selected me for the program?”

Sasha nodded. “That’s right. Your note said to come anytime outside of store hours, so…” So here he was, and things were awkward. Even he could pick up on that.

She was determined, though. “That being the case! Maybe this will work out well! As I said, I’ve prepared our house’s palatial bath, and fixed a first-class hot meal. Though I’m unworthy, and we’ve just met, please allow me to treat you as a wife should treat her man, to express my profound gratitude. Before we retire to the bedroom.”

No, please, anything but that…?

“If you’re sure about this.”

“I definitely am!” Still high-tension, but putting up an impressively put-together face all of a sudden, Kasumi rose up. Though she didn’t match Sasha’s height, they were now more on an even level, at least physically. She clapped in delight, and then turned to lead him down the hardwood hallway, deeper into her home.

Revealing yet again that her apron, while it preserved technical modesty from the front, did precisely nothing for the tantalizing expanse of her backside. With breeding hips and a plump, juicy ass visibly swaying with each step, back and forth motion both physical necessity and exaggerated by a certain demure swagger.

Surprisingly, though intimidated by her energy and fervor, and impressed by the utterly feminine, curvy shape of her mature body, Sasha could tear his eyes away.

Considering the way they lived made him naturally curious about their sanctum, their home. The very concept of having a ‘home’ was alien to him, along with the ordinary everyday things that were thus, by sheltered upbringing, rendered foreign.

He saw photos of the happy couple hanging up on the wall and glimpsed into each like he was peering into a window to the past. Sasha glanced a small room off the main hallway dedicated to a shrine to the goddess of these lands. Complete with blooming flowers piled in offering and candles lit, suggesting regular maintenance.

He saw the living area, where a television and radio set sat silent before a large, comfortable, if hideously ugly, couch. The blinds were drawn, letting in plenty of natural light that showed that this room was, too, covered in pictures. In fact, it was more the rule than the exception.

They weren't just of Hanzo and Kasumi, though that was a dominant theme, and one he couldn’t bring himself to stare at too much. There were others, sharing similarities with one or both of them. Young people, unfamiliar, with sepia-tinted old photographs moldering in their frames. Old people posing with the two of them, as they looked more recent and had even some color to them, though even the most modern of photography could only give a pale facsimile of life.

Paintings hanging alongside showed a much more vibrant excess of vivid hues. The main theme was the natural world more than people, but there was one large portrait sitting propped up against a far wall, nearly out of sight; a strikingly detailed full-body portrait of Hanzo Kasugai… standing tall on two working legs.

With every step forward, Sasha felt more the intruder.

He had to trust in both husband and wife, though. They’d both made their intentions clear, though word and deed alike. Even if he wasn’t sure, he knew the most important rule of strange situations.

One given him by another beautiful black-haired woman.

Act like you know what’s going on until you really do, Sasha.