My little sister and my hair...
"Can those two even be compared?" Sogo Doma couldn't help but retort. "Not to mention that you already had an antidote for that hair wax..."
"In other words, next time I should develop a version without an antidote..." Umaru Doma said, stroking her chin.
"Umaru, do you want to go bald with your big brother?"
"Don't worry, Big Brother. Next time, Umaru will be more careful. I definitely won't let Big Brother get away with it as easily as you did today..." Umaru Doma declared solemnly, clenching her fists.
"Umaru, you're putting that passion and determination to the wrong use! Put it toward something worthwhile!"
"To Umaru, reducing the number of Big Brother's victims is worthwhile..." Umaru Doma said righteously.
Sogo Doma was exhausted. Weren't there just slightly more girls visiting the house? How had this useless little sister of his decided everyone else was a victim? Never mind that none of it had been his idea—how exactly had those girls suffered? He was the one who had no say in the matter!
Still, since this useless dumpling had already made up her mind, continuing to argue probably wouldn't accomplish much. He should just let time prove everything—cough, cough. The truth was, Sogo Doma felt inexplicably guilty and didn't want to dwell on this topic.
As a mature man, he understood one thing very well: when a topic of discussion was unfavorable to him, what he needed to do wasn't argue his case, but quickly change or end the subject.
As for how to change or end it? Sogo Doma fiddled with the antidote he had just received. Wasn't this a ready-made excuse?
"Umaru, whether the number of victims will decrease because of Big Brother's new hairstyle is still unclear. But Big Brother does