Fifth day, the final day of posting 5 chapters in a weak.
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[Marcus Carvalho]
After Carlie explained her situation and I refused to get her pregnant, the tigress broke down crying, throwing herself at my feet, saying she'd never see her family or the save files of her favorite JRPGs ever again.
Feeling bad for the poor weeb, I decided to at least give her some attention and bring her along for some grocery shopping. Which turned out to be a good idea, because Carlie took me to a Walmart on her motorcycle.
'Not gonna lie.' I think in silence, seeing the Walmart sign before entering. 'Was kind of expecting another name with a bad pun, like Furmart or maybe Pawnmart.'
We spent the first few minutes picking up basic stuff I needed, like hygiene products, a towel, non-embarrassing clothes, etc…
All while I explained my background to Carlie.
"So you're an isekai hero, living in your third world?" the tigress asked.
"Yes," I reply pushing the shopping cart. "That's a good quick-and-dirty on my situation."
"That's… awesome!" Carlie shouts, excited.
A tired smile appeared on my face. Carlie's enthusiasm was contagious, but also draining. She circled around me, asking questions about my previous world, about the battles I faced. Her eyes shone with a genuine curiosity that reminded me of simpler times.
"So, you really killed a demon king?" Carlie asked, her eyes wide with admiration.
"Yes, I did," I answered, trying to keep my voice neutral. "Was my last deed there, and it wasn't easy, but I managed."
Carlie suddenly stopped, her expression serious.
"I get it. Fighting is never easy, even when it's all you know how to do."
Her sincerity caught me off guard. For a moment, I saw past the geek girl that wears ninja mask in public. I saw a young woman carrying a weight that suffocated her.
I stop pushing the cart and looked at Carlie. Something in her expression told me there was more to her story than just the thrill of combat.
"Why do you fight, Carlie? You're the daughter of a powerful mob boss. You could inherit your mother's empire or be anything you wanted."
Carlie sigh, tired. Her shoulders slumped, and she looked away, fixing her eyes on a distant point down the supermarket aisle.
"I'm not cut out for the mob life, Marcus," her voice was low, almost a whisper. "I'm shy, I can't look strangers in the eye when I talk. I forget things all the time, I get intimidated easily and a bunch of other stuff..."
She paused, as if reliving painful memories.
"Fighting is the only thing I'm good at, Marcus," Carlie continued, her voice firm, but with a hint of sadness. "My mom was always proud of that. So ever since I was little, I trained and molded myself to be the perfect warrior… it was the only way I could gain her approval."
She paused again, her eyes shining with a mix of determination and melancholy.
"After my 'dishonor' of losing to a male in public, there's only one way to regain my honor in my mother's eyes," Carlie swallowed hard before continuing. "Having an heir with the male who defeated me."
As soon as she finished speaking, an uncomfortable silence fell between us. Wanting to ease the tension, I decided to joke with Carlie.
"Sorry for giving so much trouble to you," I said in a forced tone. "Carlie I swear I didn't know."
Carlie's eyes widened, her ears and tail bristled. She took a step back, her hands trembling slightly as she speaks:
"N-no, Marcus, you misunderstood!" Her voice came out shaky, almost a whisper. "I… I didn't mean that…"
She took a deep breath, trying to compose herself, but her words tumbled out:
"My-mom i-i-it's HER who thinks that! A-and I… I don't care about honor and dynasty things. I just want to…"
She stops for a second, her eyes filling with unshed tears. She bit her lower lip, trying to find the right words.
Her reaction was so adorable I ended up bursting out laughing.
"It's okay. I'm not offended, it's fine."
Carlie blinked, surprised, her ears twitching slightly. She looked at me, her eyes still glistening with tears she didn't let fall.
"F-fine?" Her voice came out low, almost a whisper.
"Yeah, Carlie." I repeated, smiling. "No need to get nervous. I understand you... more than you think."
She took a deep breath, trying to pull herself together. Her hands were still trembling slightly, but her eyes began to dry.
"Y-you understand?" She asks, her voice still shaky.
"Of course! And you don't have to worry about anything," I affirmed, keeping the smile. "Even if Edith kicks you out of her house, which I doubt she would, I've got enough money to take care of you."
Carlie tilted her head, her tiger ears twitching slightly as she looked at me curiously.
"But why would you take care of me, Marcus? You barely know me."
I turned around, striking an exaggerated pose, chest puffed out, chin raised, and a shonen thumbs up.
"Because, Carlie, it's what heroes do!"
Carlie blinked, surprised. Her ears twitched slightly, and she looked at me with a mix of admiration and confusion.
"Heroes?" She repeated, her voice low.
I smiled, holding the pose, waiting for the tigress's reaction.
…
"What's that man doing?" a child asked in the distance, pointing at me.
"Don't look at him, son," said the coati mother, taking her child away from the scene.
"Why is he wearing a shirt with 'Mommy's favorite chewing toy.' on it?" a child asked in the distance, pointing at me. "Why does his mommy bite him?"
"Because she is lucky, now keep walking." Says the mother dragging the child.
…
[Image Shirt]
After what felt like an eternity, Carlie finally started to react.
I admit I was expecting her to laugh at my forced performance, but her eyes sparkled with something else.
"Marcus, you're… so unic," her voice came out low, almost a whisper, but full of admiration. "You are a monster in the ring, but at the same time so kind and warm."
Relaxing my shoulders and letting out a sigh, I ask the tigress in front of me :
"Are you some kind of nerdy girl?"
Carlie froze, her eyes widened and she turned her face away, denying the accusation.
"Of c-c-course not, Marcus!" Carlie denied, stammering. "I'm an honorable warrior, not a nerd with a collection of manga and has a hand-built computer with a maze of liquid coolers glowing in RGB."
Her feline ears drooped, and her tail curled around her legs a clear sign that I was right.
"I get it, you are a fujoshi gamer." I say, tilting my head to the side, watching her with an amused smile. "That's why you were fighting in that ninja cosplay, isn't it?"
Carlie turned to me, her eyes shining with an intensity that caught me off guard.
"That's not a cosplay, Marcus!" she said, her voice firm, almost a growl. "It's just a battle costume, made to hide my identity while I fight! Cosplay needs to be of a specific character."
I take a step back, raising my hands in a gesture of peace.
"Whoa, take it easy, Carlie. I didn't mean to offend you… or cosplayers I gess" I say, trying to calm the tigress down.
But Carlie didn't back down. She straightened her posture, looking like she was growing as she spoke, reaching almost two meters in height.
"You need to understand, Marcus. Cosplay is a noble and very serious art. It's more than just dressing up like a generic ninja. It's about respect, dedication, and passion."
I can't hold it in. A laugh escapes my lips. Carlie blinks, surprised, her ears twitching nervously.
"What are you laughing at?" she asks, her voice still firm but with a hint of curiosity.
"Sorry, Carlie," I say, trying to contain the laughter. "It's just that you get so serious when you talk about this. It confirms once again how much of a nerd you are."
Carlie crosses her arms, her cheeks blushing slightly.
"So what if I am a nerd?" she says, looking away. "There's nothing wrong with that."
"Relax, Carlie. I'm just messing with you," I say, trying to calm the tigress. "I even cosplayed once as an ice ninja called Sub-Zero."
Carlie blinks, surprised, her ears twitching nervously.
"Sub-Zero? The character from Mortal Kombat?" she asks, her voice full of curiosity.
I nod.
"Yeah, that one. But…" I pause, frowning. "How do you know that character? He exists in this world too?"
Carlie tilts her head, her ears twitching slightly as she looks at me curiously.
"Of course he exists, Marcus. Mortal Kombat is one of the most popular games here," she says, her voice low.
I want to ask more about Mortal Kombat and other games in this world, but a hoarse and raspy voice cut through the air, interrupting our conversation.
"Next!"
Carlie and I turn toward the sound. An anthro butcher, wearing a blood-stained apron, stares at us impatiently. Her body is covered in black fur and her snout is short and broad, her eyes small and dark, nose pink, and ears rounded.
As I approach the counter, catching the strong smell of raw meat, I realize what this Anthro is.
"A tasmanian devil."
The butcher frowns, irritated, her dark eyes narrowing as she stares at me.
"Yeah, you got it right you himbo," says the woman behind the counter, her voice hoarse and abrasive. "But call me Matilda, tell me what you want or get the fuck out of line."
Her tone is blunt, but there's a rough sincerity I respect. She's not here to play around, and that's clear in every line on her face.
"Sorry, Matilda," I reply, trying to keep my voice steady. "I'll take 1 kg of each of these."
Carlie and Matilda are caught off guard when I pull out a paper from my pocket with my list written on it.
"Picanha, beef ribs, pork ribs, flank steak, top sirloin, chicken wings, and chicken hearts," I said, folding the paper. "And give me whole pieces if possible, I prefer to cut them myself for the grill."
Matilda and Carlie stare at me, stunned. The anthro behind the counter drops her jaw. Matilda's cigarette even falls from her mouth.
"What's the problem?" I ask, confused.
"Marcus, are you insane?" Carlie asks, her eyes wide. "Why are you buying so much food?"
"It's just that I haven't had good meat in a while," I shrugged, still not understanding their shock. "I want to make a big churrasco."
Matilda bursts out laughing, a guttural sound that echoes through the butcher shop.
"Atta boy!." she says, pointing at me with a thick finger. "I'll go grab your meat, kid."
"Hmmm," I murmur happily.
She turns and disappears behind a swinging door, leaving Carlie and me alone at the counter.
"But just so you know, we're out of chicken hearts," Matilda shouts from afar, to my disappointment.
The tigress beside me is still in shock.
"Marcus, you know how much all this is going to cost, right?" she asks, her voice low.
With a mischievous smile forming on my lips, I answer:
"I didn't just win your striped butt on the day of our fight."
Carlie huffs, frustrated, crossing her arms and turning to the side. Her ears lower, and her tail wraps around her legs, a clear sign she's annoyed.
[Gorete Connor]
The incessant sound of tools clanging against metal echoes through the workshop.
Edith seemed to be working intently with her eyes fixed on the sodium battery prototype.
"Why won't you work?" Edith grumbles, frustrated.
But the truth is, the bunny's mind was elsewhere.
I let out a tired sigh, the heat of the workshop suffocating me. The smell of oil and grease saturates the air. My eyes feel heavy, but the clock insists the day is only halfway through. I glance at Edith, the little bunny has her face buried in the engine, shoulders tense, ears drooping.
"What's the problem, boss?" I ask the small anthro.
The words come out slow, without patience. Edith startles as if I had shouted. Her eyes widen, her hands tremble slightly.
"Problem? There's no problem, Gorete. I'm just trying to get this engine to work."
Her voice is a whisper, nearly inaudible over the noise of the workshop. But I hear it. And what I hear is a bald-faced lie.
"Oh yeah?" I ask, doubting her. "Then tell me how you plan to turn this engine on without connecting it to the battery?"
I point to the cables scattered on the floor. Edith looks down, blinks in surprise, and then looks again. Realization hits her like a bucket of cold water.
"Damn it!" the bunny exclaims, frustrated.
"Hey there, boss," I say in an exaggerated tone, raising my hands. "Let's not use that kind of language in the workplace."
Edith stares at me, eyes shining with irritation. But then, out of nowhere, she starts laughing. A genuine laugh that makes her ears bounce. I can't hold back, I start laughing too. The sound echoes through the workshop, easing the tension.
"Sorry, Gorete," says Edith, her voice still filled with tired laughter. "I don't know where my head is today."
"It's all good, boss," I reply, shrugging. "But seriously, what's going on? You look worse than I do when I wake up with a hangover."
Our laughter dies down, and the noise of the workshop fills the silence again. Edith averts her gaze, her restless hands fiddling with a screwdriver.
"It's complicated, Gorete…" says Edith, with no intention of sharing.
"Let me guess, boss," I say, leaning against the bench, arms crossed. "Man trouble. And I bet it's that bum knight you adopted."
KLING!
The sound of the screwdriver hitting the floor echoes through the workshop, as Edith's eyes widen and her mouth drops open in surprise.
"H-how do you know?" She stammers, the words stumbling out.
I burst out laughing, clutching my stomach. Edith's shocked face is priceless.
"Oh, boss," I say, through laughter. "To distract a gal like you so bad, it can only be money problems or man problems. And since I know you don't care much about money..."
I leave the sentence hanging, a mischievous smile on my lips. Edith blinks, still trying to process. Her ears twitch slightly, a clear sign of nerves.
"But… but…" She tries to argue, but the words fail.
"Come on, spill it," I press, stepping closer. "What's the knight been up to?"
Edith looks away, her cheeks flushing. Her restless hands now fiddle with a grease-stained rag. She sighs, her shoulders slump, her gaze lost in the void.
"I told him how I felt," Edith explains in a low, almost tearful voice. "I said I love him, that I wanted to be with him."
"And?" I ask, curiosity eating me alive. "What did he say?"
Edith bites her lip, her ears droop, her eyes shimmer with unshed tears.
"He said he couldn't," she says, her voice choking. "That he's already lost too much and doesn't want to risk loving only to lose again."
I let out a frustrated growl, my hands clenching into fists.
"Arrogant little prince!" I exclaim, my voice heavy with irritation. "Who does he think he is? Why didn't he just say the truth instead of that weak excuse?"
Edith blinks, surprised by my reaction. But then, a sad smile forms on her lips.
"No, Gorete," says Edith, shaking her head. "He really has been through hard times and lost a lot… more than once. I'm even glad he agreed to a purely physical relationship with me."
I open my mouth to argue, but the words die in my throat with a detail of the bunny explanation.
"Can you repeat that?" I say, focusing more intently.
"He really has been through hard times?" The bunny repeats, not understanding my question.
"Not that!" I say, growing frustrated. "The last part!"
"He agreed to a purely physical relationship with me," she says shyly, unable to meet my eyes.
…
"GO FUCK YOURSELF ON RUSTED SPIKE!" I shout in frustration, throwing my arms in the air. "What are you complaining about? That you've got a gorgeous, muscular man who wants to sleep with you? Oh, poor little you"
My voice drips with sarcasm, my eyes roll. Edith steps back, ears down, eyes wide in shock.
"But, Gorete…" She tries to argue, her voice weak.
"No buts!" I cut her off, hand raised, palm facing her. "You've got to be kidding me, right? Do you know how many women would kill to be in your place? And you're there, all weepy, like you're the victim."
Edith blinks, her mouth opens and closes, speechless. Her restless hands fidget with the grease-stained rag again.
"But I want more, Gorete," she says, voice trembling. "I want a real relationship, not just sex."
I growl, even more frustrated with Edith's juvenile behavior.
"I get it, Edith," I say, my voice a mix of irritation and understanding. "And that's why I'll give you this advice: if you can't just enjoy the no-strings attached sex, then let him go."
Edith pulls back, eyes wide, ears drooping. Her face screams surprise, like I just slapped her.
"But, Gorete…" She tries to argue, voice fragile.
"No buts!" I cut her off again, hand raised, palm facing her. "This shit is your fault and no one else's. Right now I bet you're fooling yourself, thinking he's going to change his mind if you keep together. And you know what's going to happen? You're going to grow more bitter, as you become more disillusioned."
Edith blinks, her mouth opens and closes, wordless. Her hands keep fidgeting with the greasy rag. Her gaze drifts into emptiness, her mind clearly in turmoil.
"I know it's hard, boss," I say, voice softer now, but still firm. "But you need to think about yourself. You can't just sit around hoping he'll change. Either you accept things as they are, or you move on."
Edith sighs, shoulders slumping, her gaze lost again. Tears glisten in her eyes, but she blinks hard, holding them back.
I slam my hand on the workbench, the sound echoing through the workshop, snapping Edith's attention. The tears still shimmer in her eyes, but now her gaze is focused on me, ears perked.
"Sorry for being harsh with you boss. But I stand for what I said." I say, voice firm. "So. if we can't control your man, let's focus on what we can control."
I point to the prototype on the bench, wires and components scattered. Edith blinks, surprise etched on her face. But then, a spark of determination lights up her eyes. Her ears perk up, shoulders straighten.
"You're right, Gorete," she says, her voice steadier. "I need to keep working and get the sodium-ion battery viable."
I flash a wide smile, teeth showing. Edith's grit fills me with pride.
"That's it, boss," I say, patting her shoulder. "Show this world you're not just a cute little bunny. You're a genius engineer."