Chapter 6: Not The Daughters, But The Mothers

It wasn’t frightening so much as overwhelming, their love wrapping around him like vines, tight, persistent, and impossible to ignore.

It showed in little ways at first, then grew harder to brush off. One would pout if he talked too long with someone else, sliding closer to reclaim his attention with a bright, needy smile. Another started tagging along everywhere, waiting outside his classes, popping up at the store, always with a cheerful "I was just nearby!" that didn’t quite add up.

They’d bicker over who got to sit by him, their voices sharp with insistence, each claiming a spot like it was a prize.

One doodled his name across her notebooks, hearts framing every letter, and beamed when he noticed, like it was a gift. Another kept mementos, ticket stubs, a pencil he’d lent her, a photo from years back, tucked into a little box she’d show him with giddy pride.

If he mentioned hanging out with a new friend, one might ’accidentally’ spill juice on their notes the next day, giggling an apology that didn’t reach her eyes. Another would text him nonstop if he went somewhere without them, her messages a flood of "Where are you?" and "Miss you!" until he replied.

They’d crowd around him at lunch, forming a tight circle, each vying to share her food or steal a bite of his, their laughter loud and overlapping. One even made him a bracelet, woven with care, a little lopsided, and slipped it onto his wrist with a hopeful "You’ll wear it forever, right?" that left no room for no.

Mika didn’t know what he’d done to deserve it, but somehow, all five of the battle angels daughters had fallen for him hard.

...Too hard, if he was honest.

It wasn’t just affection; it was a devotion so deep it felt like they couldn’t breathe without him in their orbit. They clung to him with a fervor that bordered on desperation, their eyes lighting up when he was near and dimming when he wasn’t.

Worse, they refused to let anyone else into his life, new friends, classmates, even casual acquaintances were met with tight smiles, subtle nudges, or outright sabotage until they backed off.

It was like they’d staked a claim on him, an unspoken pact that he belonged to them and them alone.

And that put him in an impossible bind.

Even if he wanted to return one of their feelings, to pick one and build something real, he couldn’t. Choosing one would mean shattering the lifelong bond he shared with all five, a bond forged in the cradle, tempered through years of laughter and loyalty.

But it wouldn’t just end there.

It’d spark a war, a full, on catastrophe, because each of them wielded SSS-tier blessings which only then as well as their mothers wielded in this world, powers so immense they could level cities in a heartbeat once fully matured.

He’d seen the fire in their eyes, the way they’d tense when one got too close to him, and he knew: if he picked one, the others wouldn’t hesitate. They’d turn on each other without a second thought, their love for him outweighing any care for the world around them.

Buildings would crumble, streets would burn, and the fallout would be a nightmare, all because they couldn’t share him.

But as wild as that was, it wasn’t even the craziest part. It wasn’t even the worst of his troubles, just one jagged facet of the mess he called his life.

The real kicker, the thing that had haunted him for years and gnawed at him in quiet moments, was something far more shocking.

That is, if he had to choose someone to be with, to give his heart to, it wouldn’t be any of the daughters, no matter how fiercely they adored him.

...It’d actually be their mothers.

...The five battle angels or the goddess themselves.

Yes, you heard that correctly. Mika didn’t prefer the daughters, not their youthful energy or their relentless devotion.

Instead, his heart tilted toward their mothers, the women who’d raised him. He didn’t gravitate toward the young and ripe, as so many might expect, but found himself drawn to the old and mature.

Shocking? Maybe to some.

But to Mika, it was as natural as breathing.

He was a particular individual, carved out from the crowd by a taste so distinct it set him apart like a lone star in a daylight sky.

While other boys his age or men in general chased after women their own age or even younger, Mika’s gaze turned upward, toward those much older than him.

Where others craved the role of the elder in a relationship, eager to tease and coddle a younger partner, Mika was the opposite. He longed to be the one coddled, cherished, wrapped in the warmth and wisdom of someone seasoned by years.

And he wasn’t ashamed of it, not even close. He wore his preference like a badge of honor, proud to call himself a man of culture, a connoisseur who saw what others couldn’t: the true, radiant beauty of older women.

To him, those who didn’t get it were the ones missing out, blind to a charm that only time could refine.

They were also his ideal, the pinnacle of everything he adored in a woman, distilled into five breathtaking figures who’d shaped his world.

So, it was only natural he’d fall for them.

They were mature, their years etched into the lines of their faces and the wisdom in their eyes, a beauty that transcended youth and radiated strength.

They’d lived through wars, saved the world, and carried scars, both visible and hidden, that told stories he could lose himself in.

Their voices held a depth that soothed him, whether sharp with authority or soft with care, each word laced with a gravitas that made his pulse quicken.

They moved with a confidence honed by decades, a grace that wasn’t fragile but forged, like steel tempered in fire.

Their hands, roughened by battle yet gentle when they’d brushed his hair or steadied his steps, promised a nurturing he couldn’t resist, firm enough to ground him, soft enough to make him feel safe.

Their laughter, rare but rich, carried the echoes of lives fully lived, a sound that wrapped around him like a warm blanket. They knew how to tease him, too, not in the giddy, playful way of youth, but with a knowing smirk or a raised brow that left him flustered in a way he secretly loved.

They’d seen the world’s ugliness and still chose kindness, still poured love into him, and that blend of resilience and tenderness was intoxicating.

To Mika, they weren’t just the battle angels who’d saved humanity, they were the women who’d saved him, day after day, with a love so steady it became the cornerstone of his life.

How could he not fall for them? They were everything he’d ever wanted, everything he’d ever dreamed of, wrapped in the allure of maturity he couldn’t, and wouldn’t, turn away from.

And because of this, over the years, Mika couldn’t help but see all five of them as women, gorgeous, irresistible women, rather than the caretakers or motherly figures they’d once been in his life.

The change wasn’t some grand epiphany; it slinked in slow and sly, peeling back the innocent veil of childhood and leaving him with a longing that felt equal parts wicked and adoring.

They were supposed to be his guardians, his stand, in moms, but somewhere along the way, his heart, and a few less noble parts, decided they were something far more enticing.

And, oh boy, did it get messy in the worst ways.

Take that time in middle school when one of them was helping him with a history project. She’d leaned over his desk, her top dipping just enough to show a hint of cleavage as she pointed out his sloppy notes, her voice all husky from a long day. He was supposed to think, "Thanks for the guidance, Parental Unit Number Four."

Instead, his brain short, circuited with, "Holy crap, her curves are unreal, and that voice could melt steel, am I allowed to stare?" He’d knocked over his chair trying to adjust his seat, stammering nonsense while she chuckled and ruffled his hair, totally unaware she’d just set his teenage fantasies ablaze.

Or that steamy summer day when another angel decided to fix a busted fence in the backyard.

She’d stripped down to a tank top, sweat glistening on her toned arms as she swung a hammer with effortless power, her hips swaying as she worked. Mika was meant to see her as the responsible caretaker keeping their home intact.

Fat chance.

He stood there, jaw on the floor, thinking. "She’s a goddess with a tool belt, those thighs could crush me, and I’d thank her." He’d walked straight into the fence post she’d just set, mumbling an apology as she grinned down at him. "Careful, sweetie." Her tone dripping with a warmth that made his knees weak and his thoughts anything but filial.

But even though Mika harbored those thoughts, loved them so fiercely it burned beneath every layer of his being, he couldn’t act on them or breathe a word of his feelings.

The reasons stacked up like a wall he couldn’t climb.

For one, the age gap loomed large, two decades between them, a chasm of time that made his longing feel like a forbidden scribble in a rulebook.

Then there was the fact that they’d been his motherly figures, his anchors since day one. They’d raised him, nurtured him, built a family around him, confessing his love would be like tossing a Molotov cocktail into that dynamic, shattering the trust and comfort they’d woven over years.

Imagine the scene: him blurting out, "Hey, thanks for tucking me in all those nights, but also I’m in love with you." It’d turn their gentle hugs into awkward side, glances and their proud smiles into confused frowns. He couldn’t do that to them, couldn’t unravel the safety of what they’d always been.

And that wasn’t even the half of it.

The five angels didn’t just see him as their kid, they saw him as the golden catch for their daughters.

They’d nudge him toward the girls with knowing looks, dropping hints about what a ’perfect husband’ he’d make, their eyes twinkling with matchmaking glee. If he turned around and said, "Actually, I’d rather date you."

0It’d be a like a plot twist no one asked for.

Worse, their daughters, already obsessed with him in their own intense way, would lose it. He could picture it: the five of them, catstropic blessings blazing, squaring off against their own mothers in a jealous, city-leveling showdown.

"You stole him from me!" They’d scream, hurling powers at each other while he stood there, the idiot who sparked a family war.

It’d be chaos, heartbreak and rubble where love used to be.

So, with all these tangled problems, the age difference, the family ties, the potential for literal Armageddon, Mika made a choice.

As much as it gnawed at him, as frustrating as it was to choke down his feelings, he decided to bury them deep.

He’d lock his love away, let it fester in silence, and work to push those emotions out of his system until they faded into nothing.