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It had been quite a long time since he had eaten meatballs.
Meruem, former King of the Chimera Ants, now King only in title, sat on a hard, plastic chair in what had to be the most bewildering human establishment he'd encountered yet. He stared at the five spheres of mystery meat arranged in a neat circle on the paper plate before him. They were beige. Uniformly beige, and they had been marketed as 'vegan'.
Across from him, Komugi sneezed and nearly face-planted into her own plate of beige spheres. A glob of lingonberry sauce slopped down her chin and splashed into the sea of mush on her plate. She sniffled and smiled. Always such a mess. But a happy mess.
"This place is very strange, isn't it?" she chirped. "But the food is warm!"
He found himself nodding before remembering she couldn't see it. "Yes." Then, because he couldn't help himself, "Though I fail to understand why a furniture retailer would also serve food. The logic of combining these services seems questionable at best."
"Maybe it's so you know if the chairs are comfortable before you buy them?" Komugi suggested, stuffing the last chunk of meatball into her mouth and subsequently choking on it. Meruem's tail snaked around and unceremoniously thumped against her back. He was not about to let the only creature on this planet capable of beating him choke to death in a large furniture box store.
"Thank you," she wheezed, wiping her nose on her sleeve. "Anyways, I'm done now! So um, should we get started?"
"Yes. Let's."
They took a shopping cart. Truthfully, there was no need for one, not when the crook of his arm was more than enough support. But something about the way the large metal cage rattled along the linoleum floors amused her, and the sight of her smile was worth the trouble. So, the cart it was.
"We had some communal tools back home," Komugi chattered merrily as they began weaving through displays she would never see. "Like a wheelbarrow everyone used to take turns using. I'm told it was fun to ride in! I never got to ride or push it myself, but if I did, I imagine it'd feel kind of like this!"
For a split second, Meruem considered what would happen if he simply let go and allowed Komugi to steer. The thought was as reckless as it was fleeting. His mind immediately provided a vivid preview of the chaos that would ensue before dismissing the idea. While he could undoubtedly pluck her from harm's way in an instant, the very notion of her experiencing even a moment of panic, even if artificial and immediately resolved, felt unacceptable. It would entirely negate the purpose of this entire excursion.
And that purpose, in no uncertain terms, was to make Komugi happy.
Technically, the goal was the purchase of furniture. At least, that was how Meruem framed it when speaking to the Chairman. The pardon for this outing had come with stipulations from the Hunter Association typical with those required around any sort of post-truce outings. Not that Meruem had any intentions of severing the delicate ties of their peace treaty. He had everything he wanted. Though a small, dark corner of his mind still found it absurd that they would extend such hospitality, given that he'd spent the better part of his recent existence planning humanity's efficient extermination.
The assigned penthouse was nothing like the palace they'd left behind in East Gorteau, but it was theirs. Not borrowed nor stolen. Though it served as something akin to a prison, it felt nothing of the sort. And as such, they'd been given a degree of freedom in how it was furnished. Which quite frankly mattered little to Meruem and even less to Komugi - the former having little to no need for any of the amenities or furniture, and the latter only knowing extreme poverty and a bare-bones existence. What use did either have for furniture, when they only thing that mattered was the Gungi board between them?
Surprisingly, it had not been the Chairman this time, or any of his lackeys, who had proposed the idea. It had been none other than Shaiapouf.
Pouf's suggestion had come wrapped in layers of carefully constructed reasoning. Something about how understanding human retail customs would demonstrate their commitment to integration, and how selecting furnishings together was a critical milestone in human relationships. Meruem, in a rare moment of what he could only classify as "going along with it," had agreed. For once, Shaiapouf's theatrics had been so elaborate and his praise so effusive that they'd bypassed Meruem's usual analysis. He simply wanted the monologue to end.
Every few steps, a new "room" materialized as he followed the arrows marking the floors. A kitchen with plastic fruit, a living room with books glued to shelves, and dining rooms with dangling light fixtures made of wicker and paper. All the rooms were styled in a similar way to the penthouse they occupied, though none boasting the kind of gilded opulence from the palace.
"Wow...Is this really a whole store for furniture? It feels like we've been walking forever."
"Structurally, it is a warehouse," Meruem clarified. "They simply section off portions of it to simulate a domestic environment."
"You mean someone lives in here? On display for everyone to see?" Komugi stopped in her tracks, aghast. "I-I didn't take my shoes off or even bring a gift—"
"No, this is not someone's home. But the displays are all designed to look like rooms that could be in one." He gently guided her past a marshmallow-white sofa that looked almost edible. "To give you ideas on how to arrange your own things and a chance to test out different pieces."
Komugi's fingers tightened around his arm. "Oh. I'm happy with everything back at the penthouse! It's more than I could've ever dreamed of!"
Meruem could feel the subtle shift in her demeanor, the way her initial joy began to curdle into something more complex. His own feelings were equally complicated. Komugi had never been a selfish creature. Her life had been a study in deprivation, and asking for more than what was offered was as alien to her as the concept of colors. Needs, even the most basic like food or rest, were presented as afterthoughts, if at all.
This self-effacing quality of hers, which Meruem had once admired as a virtue, now felt different. A compulsion had been slowly building in him. A deeply human impulse, one he'd previously held in contempt. Such a thing was direct contradiction to everything he had believed about his power and purpose.
He wished to spoil her. To shower her with all the comforts she'd been denied her whole life. To buy her chairs when she'd happily sit on the floor. To lavish her with blankets when he knew she would simply offer them all to him instead. To gift her one hundred wheelbarrows, just because she'd imagined riding in one.
To see her smile. To have her smile for him and no one else.
But how to explain such a thing to someone who shirked at the thought of asking for anything? How to convey this complex, burgeoning emotion (one even he still hadn't fully dissected) to a woman who still seemed surprised by warm food?
He studied her side profile as she fretfully turned her head this way and that. He had a good view of her thick, black eyebrows as they knotted and furrowed.
Now Pouf's recommendation was starting to make sense. The Royal Guard's words about a shopping venue that 'strengthened the bonds between human relationships' echoed in Meruem's mind. Pouf had presented this outing as a display of good faith in upholding their peace treaty and as a way to bring the two of them closer together. Yet standing here, next to Komugi, who was currently trying to apologize to a fake plant for bumping into it, Meruem found himself understanding at last the peculiar human ritual of purchasing furniture and the role he was meant to play. He, who had once desired to consume the world, now desired to gift pieces of it to the one person who wanted nothing at all.
"We should look at beds," Meruem announced, steering their cart toward a sign with another arrow.
"Eh? But we already have beds."
"You have a bed. I do not use mine."
"Is something wrong with it?"
"No. I simply do not sleep in the way you do."
"What?" Komugi's voice rose several octaves. "But everyone needs to sleep!"
"I seem to recall a certain World Champion eschewing sleep for three consecutive days."
"Well...I mean... I do eventually sleep!"
"My biological needs are minimal."
"B-but that can't be healthy!"
"Your concern is unnecessary." He guided the cart further into the showroom. "We will purchase a larger bed. Then I can stay with you while you sleep."
"Th-that's—"
"It would be more efficient for Gungi. We could begin playing immediately upon your awakening."
"But... but..." She stumbled slightly, feet tangling up in the wheels of the shopping cart. "That's not... I mean..."
"You find this arrangement disagreeable?"
"No! Not at all! That's not the problem!"
"Problem? If anything, this is a solution. Your current bed wouldn't comfortably hold both of us."
A vivid crimson bloomed across Komugi's cheeks. Meruem had resolved to spare her any discomfort, yet he found himself savoring this particular display.
"You are nervous about beds?"
"N-no, I'm nervous about... about..."
"About what?"
"About sharing one!"
Something told him this had nothing to do with Komugi harboring selfish desires not to share, which made it all the more perplexing. "Why would you be nervous about that? We share a board for Gungi. We share a penthouse. We are currently sharing a shopping cart. Sharing a bed is simply the next logical step."
"But this is different!"
"I fail to see the source of your distress. We already spend the majority of our time in close proximity."
"That's for Gungi!"
"And this would be for Gungi as well. Among other practical considerations."
The cart's wheels squeaked as they rounded a corner into a particularly cozy looking display with a plush, queen-sized bed covered by a thick duvet and a mountain of pillows, all in shades of dove grey and white. It looked, for lack of a better word, like a cloud.
The penthouse was quiet, often stiflingly so. He spent his nights staring at the ceiling, analyzing games that had already ended, while she was rooms away, vulnerable and unconscious. But in this simulated room with its fake windows and soft lighting, he could picture Komugi curled on her side, her messy white hair spilling across a pillow and her face peaceful. No fretful wrinkling of her brow, no frantic fumbling. He imagined sitting next to her, feeling the gentle rhythm of her breathing. The Gungi board would be there too, of course. Ready for when she woke.
And then the vision shattered as another customer began to browse the display.
How dare they?
How dare this human, this invader, violate the space Meruem had so clearly claimed as hers? The urge to casually "bump" into the cart and send it careening into the intruder's shins was immense. Instead, Meruem fixed the human with a stare that was cold and absolute that people in the nearby kitchen displays inexplicably felt the urge to leave.
"What...what other practical considerations?" Komugi asked after a long pause.
"The ambient temperature of the penthouse is inefficiently regulated at night. Shared body heat is a proven method for maintaining thermal equilibrium. And though I have an exoskeleton, I still produce metabolic heat. This would ensure you wake up in optimal condition for our matches."
"Oh," was all she could manage.
"Furthermore," Meruem pressed, feeling a strange sort of satisfaction in the way her flush deepened, "it would be far more efficient than me having to traverse the entire penthouse simply to check on you throughout the night. You often experience respiratory distress, and I have observed you thrash about."
"W-w-wait, you...you check on me?"
Meruem busied himself examining a nearby pillow, sinking a finger into its goose down core. "The bed we select needs to provide proper support for your back. Long hours at the Gungi board necessitate spinal alignment."
"That's...I wasn't asking about..."
"Your posture is terrible when you're asleep. You curl into a knot. I have theorized this is a subconscious effort to conserve body heat, a remnant of your impoverished upbringing. A larger bed with appropriate bedding, and myself present to serve as a thermal mass, would eliminate the need for such contortions."
Komugi's head was bowed, her messy white hair nearly obscuring her face. She was mumbling something.
"Speak up."
"I...I don't remember what I do when I'm asleep," she whispered, her shoulders shaking. "Please forgive me for showing you something so unsightly."
Meruem faltered. He'd been operating on pure logic. He had not anticipated the genuine, wounded vulnerability in her voice.
Unsightly?
To him, her sleeping form was a study in paradoxes. Unsightly was the last word he'd use to describe it. She was, quite simply, a fascinating mess. Her limbs would flail, her face would scrunch, and she would mumble and twitch, but none of these behaviors were unpleasant. The opposite, actually. It was especially thrilling when he'd recognize a sequence of Gungi moves muttered in her sleep that matched their recent games. Or even more exhilarating, whole strings of formations he hadn't even witnessed yet doled out between snuffling snores. Yes, she was undeniably a paradox.
"Your sleeping habits are neither 'unsightly' nor my concern from an aesthetic standpoint. They are a logistical problem that requires a solution. This bed is a potential solution. It is large. The mattress is firm. We will take it."
He pushed the cart forward, intending to proceed with their purchase when Komugi's hand darted out and latched onto handle.
"Wait!" she gasped.
"What is the issue now?"
"We can't!"
"We can."
"You can't just decide something like that without testing it!"
Meruem blinked. "Testing?"
"Isn't that what you said earlier? About how the store is set up so people can test things before buying them?" Komugi asked, her logic infuriatingly sound. "So um, you can't buy the bed because it wasn't tested."
So that was her game now, was it? His lips curled into a smirk. He could see how this was going to play out.
"An excellent point. My apologies for my oversight," he said, his tone laced with a sincerity that did not reach his eyes.
Komugi puffed out her chest with a pleased little hum. "Exactly, so we can't—"
She was cut off by a sudden shift in balance as Meruem lifted her from her feet by his tail. He then deposited her gently onto the center of the queen-sized bed. The plush duvet enveloped her with a soft 'poof'. Komugi let out a strangled yelp, her arms pinwheeling for a moment before she landed amidst the mountain of pillows.
"W-what are you doing?!"
"Testing the bed. You are the intended occupant. Therefore, your evaluation is the most critical. Now, test it. Try sleeping."
"Sleeping?!" she sputtered. "I-I can't just fall asleep here like this!"
"Is the bed uncomfortable? Do you have suggestions for its improvement?"
"No! It's perfect!"
"Then sleep."
"I...can't! I can't do that! It's too strange!"
"I fail to see the difficulty. You've slept sitting up. In a chair. On the floor. Now you are on a bed. It is simply a larger version of what you are used to."
"It's not the same at all! I-I can't just...test it! Not like this!"
She was right. Just not in the way she thought she was.
Meruem promptly climbed onto the bed next to her. The bed frame did not so much as creak. He lay flat on his back, arms crossed over his chest, utterly still.
"As the purpose is to purchase a bed for both of us, it only makes sense that I also test. Does it meet your needs?"
Komugi had somehow managed to fold herself into a ball, her face buried in a pillow. Her entire being was vibrating with a silent scream. "I...I can't..."
"If you cannot provide an assessment on this bed, we will have to test all the others until you can."
"A-all the beds?!"
"There are approximately 50 beds at this location. If you exclude smaller beds that wouldn't suit our requirements, we are left with perhaps 25. A thorough evaluation of each will take some time, but it is a necessary procedure."
He had the distinct pleasure of feeling the bed shake with her mortification. Komugi remained in her little ball for another full minute before she finally, slowly, unfurled herself. She sat up, her hair a catastrophic mess and her face still a brilliant shade of red.
"Okay," she squeaked. "Okay, let's... test."
She cautiously lay down next to him, leaving a chasm of at least two feet between them. Her body was rigid as a board. The duvet, which Meruem had completely ignored, was suddenly a source of great interest to her. She plucked at the hem, fingers twisting the fabric.
"So," Meruem prompted, turning his head to look at her. "Report."
"It's... Um. Very soft. The pillows are... pillowy."
"I see," he said, a flicker of amusement in his tone. "Anything else?"
"Um... it's... big?"
"Indeed. That is one of its primary attributes. Is it too big? Could a smaller model suffice for our purposes? One that facilitates closer proximity for more efficient thermal regulation?"
"No! I mean, yes, this is... fine. We can play Gungi here. I can play Gungi anywhere, really!"
"You raise an important point. The bed we choose must accommodate multiple positions."
The sound that escaped her throat was entirely new to his catalogue of Komugi-noises. She wriggled deeper into the mattress. "P...positions?"
"For Gungi," he clarified. "Some matches last several hours. Comfort is essential."
"R-right! Gungi! Yes, for Gungi. I like it. The bed. For Gungi. This one is good. We can buy it."
He'd been trying to ignore it, but the sight of her splayed amongst the pillows and duvet was beginning to affect him. It was becoming very hard not to focus on how the pillows framed her messy hair and the way the duvet emphasized her hips. None of which would do anything for their Gungi games.
"Gungi alone is not sufficient criteria for a long-term investment. Other activities must also be taken into account."
"...Other... activities?"
"Sleeping, of course. As I mentioned earlier. You have a tendency to move about. The bed must be able to withstand that."
"H-how can we test for that?"
Meruem rolled onto his side, propping his head on his hand as his elbow sank into the pillow. He reached out with his other arm, extending it until his fingers brushed against her forearm. He then proceeded to prod her with the lightest of touches.
"Wha—!"
Komugi instinctively tried to squirm away, jostling the bed. Its frame held firm.
"Perhaps we need to simulate more intensive movement."
Before she could protest further, Meruem's tail slipped under the covers and gently tickled the back of her knee. With a breathless squeal, Komugi kicked out, her legs thrashing about as she tried to escape the unexpected sensation. The bed creaked softly, but the frame remained solid. Though by this point he wasn't sure if the frame was the only thing being tested.
"Stop! Stop, it tickles!" Komugi's arms flailed as she tried to push him away. Then her hands made contact with the solid muscle of his chest.
He ceased his assault immediately. His tail retreated, coiling at the foot of the bed as if ashamed of its mischief. Her small palms remained pressed flat against his chest, fingers wide as if attempting to measure the span of his ribs. Komugi's frantic breathing filled the space between them, each exhale warm.
Meruem found himself acutely aware of the heat radiating from her skin. He supposed they could test the thermal regulation capabilities of the bed as well, but that particular experiment wasn't what he was focusing on at the moment.
1,386.
That was how many individual hairs she had between both bushy eyebrows. He counted each strand in an instant in some sort of bizarre effort to regain mental control of the situation.
"The structural integrity is satisfactory."
He was closer than they had ever been outside of a Gungi match. Close enough to feel the soft puff of her breath on his cheek. The entire world, with its beige meatballs and staged display rooms, faded into a distant blur. All that mattered was the bed, and the girl in it with him.
Komugi seemed to realize this too. Her hands remained on his chest, but they weren't pushing anymore.
"You said... there were other activities. Besides... besides Gungi. And sleeping."
"Yes. I did."
Her fingers trembled, but they didn't pull away. In fact, they seemed to twitch, just slightly, against the chitin of his chest.
"You're very warm," she whispered.
Meruem considered this. His body temperature was, by human standards, slightly elevated. Another byproduct of his unique biology. He had not considered it an asset.
"I am. This would further validate my initial hypothesis regarding thermal efficiency. I imagine it'd be the same when sleeping adjacent to each other."
Komugi's head cocked. "Sleeping? I thought you said you don't have needs."
"I do not have needs in the same way humans do. I do not require sleep or sustenance in the conventional, human sense. But that does not mean I am without wants." His voice dropped. "And I want a bed that is perfect for you."
"But why... do you need to be in my bed at all?"
"Because," he said finally, "I want to be where you are."
Komugi flinched in surprise. Her hands started to retract. He stopped her with his own hand over hers, trapping it against his chest. The contact sent an electric jolt that traveled up his arm.
"Don't you want that too?"
He didn't need to hear her answer. He could feel it in the frantic beat of her pulse.
"I...I just want you to know, um, whatever...other activities you decide you want to do with me, if...if you choose to, that is..." Her fingers curled, her thumb catching on the edge of his vest. "That's fine with me."
And unfortunately, a store employee chose that moment to round the corner and freeze in place. A single teenager, holding a price gun and looking utterly gobsmacked at the sight of a purple-and-green Chimera Ant man and a messy-haired blind woman tangled together in a display bed.
"Uh, sir... ma'am... you can't, like, sleep in the display beds..."
Komugi had suffered enough embarrassment for one day, and he could tell just by the way the blood rushed to her cheeks that she was at her limit. Meruem scooped her up and dumped her into their shopping cart before she even had a chance to acknowledge the unwelcome interruption or launch into a flurry of apologies.
"Very well. We'll buy it. Then it won't be a 'display' bed anymore."
Shaiapouf was, in his not-so-humble opinion, a genius of the long game.
He had done his research. He had delved into the dark underbelly of human social forums and discovered a recurring truth: that a certain blue and yellow furniture box store was the graveyard of relationships. Partnerships broke and shattered by the pressure of making a joint purchasing decision on kitchen cabinets. Others were crushed by the weight of their own inadequacy after spending 30 minutes picking the wrong style of lampshade. And if the act of making a financial commitment wasn't enough to tear them apart, surely the required cooperation of assembly would.
So many delightful ways to rip people apart, all dressed up under the guise of affordable home decor.
And now he had unleashed the King and that wretched woman upon the hellscape that was this box store. Pouf had spent the past several weeks carefully and artfully laying the foundation for this chance once he learned of its devastating nature. A visit to the local furniture store would be the hammer blow that finally shattered their bond.
Convincing his King to take this trip had not been difficult. Entreating the Association Chairman for financial support had been even easier. In fact, the only challenge had been restraining himself from joining them on the trip, lest his presence somehow interfere with the meticulously crafted disaster he had designed. Instead, he had contrived to shoo off his other Royal Guard siblings on a separate Association-sanctioned excursion (some nonsense about "team-building" at an indoor rock climbing facility). The risk of Pitou and Youpi inadvertently interfering was simply too great.
Pouf's own reflection gazed back up at him from the tea in his cup, lips upturned in a self-satisfactory smile. Oh, how he ached to be present! To bear witness to the inevitable collapse of this ridiculous dalliance with the lesser species! But no, after going to such efforts to emphasize the importance of this outing, it would be counterintuitive to sully the experience by intruding, even with the tiniest of his clones. Pouf resolved to stay behind and tend to their penthouse, ready and waiting to welcome their tragic end.
He had envisioned the King returning alone, or perhaps followed by a weeping, heartbroken Komugi, who would promptly retreat to her room. The latter scenario was the most preferable.
But instead, the King had merely announced that they would be assembling their purchase together as being part of the 'experience', and not to be interrupted.
And so, Pouf found himself sitting alone in the penthouse kitchen, staring at his tea.
It had been five hours. Five hours and seventeen minutes since the two retreated to one of the bedrooms. No sounds of arguing or screaming or tears had emerged. In fact, the penthouse was dead quiet. What were they doing in there?
Perhaps the King had grown weary of Komugi's incessant prattle and resorted to force? Maybe the girl was lying unconscious on the floor, her broken body the victim of his frustration after proving herself an utterly useless assistant in the assembly process? Or perhaps she simply tripped and fell on an Allen wrench and died in the process? Wouldn't that be marvelous?
Five hours and eighteen minutes.
Though... they had purchased a bed.
Pouf's fingers tightened around the handle of his teacup.
No, absolutely not. Not the King. Not with her. Not possible.
Then why were they still holed up in there?
Had she seduced him!? No, that thought was even more impossible; though despite her idiocy, the blind wretch was undeniably female, and the King was, after all, a male. But with her? Her?
Five hours and nineteen minutes.
Pouf's tea had grown cold.
Just one peek. A tiny, insignificant, microscopic peek. Only to assess his King's safety.
Pouf split off a single clone, as small as could be, and slipped away like a whisper through the air vent. Down the shaft, through the grate, and into the bedroom that had swallowed his King whole. He would know the truth. He had to.
The bed frame was scattered across the floor in pieces. An instruction manual lay abandoned, its pages crumpled. The mattress had been pulled from its packaging and dumped unceremoniously in the center of the chaos. A Gungi board sat balanced precariously on a box, pieces frozen mid-game.
And there, curled together on the bare mattress, were the King and his human. Not tangled in some depraved act, but in a display of pure domesticity. Nestled against each other, the woman tucked under his chin and drooling all over the King's chest, and he...he...
The King was asleep.
With his tail curved protectively around her waist and his nose buried in her hair, Pouf's King looked for all the world like the most content creature in existence. The steady, slow rise and fall of his chest was the final, unforgivable piece of evidence.
In the kitchen, the real Pouf's teacup shattered.