Once upon a time, in a huge, medieval kingdom, there was a princess whose beauty was known all throughout the lands. She has strawberry blond hair, heavy eye-make up and sun-kissed olive skin that makes her even more charming to the townspeople. She grew up to be a good teenager, studied among the nuns in the convent and made a name of her own in righteousness.
This is not her story.
A long, long time ago, there lived the Moriuchi family in the middle of a huge forest. It’s not like Papa Mori and Mama Mori ever wanted to live in insolation, but sometimes, you have to be resourceful especially if you don’t have your own house and lot in the city.
Mama Mori have a wide plantation of peach trees—yeah, they can’t afford to buy or even rent a small apartment in Tokyo but hey, this is how the story works. Let them be beggars. Or farmers. Whatever. So, they made a living through exporting peach overseas. Their peaches are huge, like really huge. In fact, there’s this one giant-ass peach—it was so big that it suddenly popped out a kid.
No, scratch that—the peach popped out three little kids—all boys covered in soft, pinkish skin. Imagine how big the fucking peach was to be able to contain three kids. Three fucking kids.
Now, everyone would be scared shitless about suddenly having three naked and drooling kids of different ages, mind you, crawling out of the peach but Mama Mori is a strong, kinda though Mom so she just casually plucked the street kids from the fruit as if she’s just pulling out weeds from her beloved garden. You see, they don’t have any children and these snotty brats are like blessings-in-disguise-of-a-peach even of it sounds really wacky and out of this world.
They could have named the three as the Three Piglets, Three Musketeers, or Mario, Luigi and Peach—but they’re all boys so the last one is already out of the question. Besides, Papa Mori is a huge fan of Japanese Enka music so he chooses Japanese names for his (somewhat) Japanese kids.
The eldest was named Takahiro—who grew up always helping his mother with household chores. He can cook, clean, wash diapers—wait do you even wash diap—and hide love letters from his fans. He can sing pretty well. He could have been the ideal big brother, if he’s not just a fucking shit who loves bullying his little brothers to tears.
Tomohiro was the name given to the second son. Taka would always say that he has a giant stick shoved up into his ass for being serious and strict all the time. He’s nerdy and the target of Taka’s bullying spree when they were younger. But now that he’s taller than his saintly Aniki, Taka wouldn’t even dare to cross his path.
The youngest was named Hiroki. He’s obviously the favorite and he takes advantage of that really, really good. He got a shit-ton of girls following him around. He can also sing. He usually complains whenever his mom called out, “Hiro, throw the trash! I’ve already told you that 5 minutes ago!” he would go on a debate, arguing that all of them have “Hiro” in their names and since his nii-chan is the oldest, he should be the one to do the chore. He usually ends up getting smacked by Taka-nii chan for that.
Now that we’ve established the characters—forget the other four, Taka is the protagonist anyway—let’s move on the actual story.
Winter came and so is the Christmas season. Papa Mori would go to the city to deliver some peach and would buy presents for his shitty not-so little kids on the way home. Before he leaves, he stood by the doorway of their humble abode and lovingly asked his kids on their wish-list, conveniently ignoring the heavy rock music playing somewhere upstairs. Probably in this oldest’s room.
“I want white hair,” Hiroki said.
“I want an escape ticket out of this household,” said Tomohiro who loos bored out of his fucking mind.
Now, those little shits area asking for the impossible. Taka knew that his father is getting older and that he’s not Santa Clause nor the fat blue genie in the lamp so he just thinks of a simple thing to ask—something that you’ll easily find in Shibuya.
“I want a microphone,” he said grinning from ear to ear, “Red mic with long, long chord.”
His father numbly nodded and went on his way. Please take note that he didn’t even asked his wife for presents because he already knows that Mama Mori would be asking for divorce. Again.
And so, Papa Mori goes.
And for some fucked up reason, Papa Mori went back faster than expected. He got a hair dye for Hiroki, a book for Tomohiro (because he can’t afford to buy any tickets, really), and nothing for Takahiro because he got conveniently robbed somewhere along the way. He’s feeling down because his eldest had asked for a single gift and he still couldn’t give it. He feels like an useless father.
So, imagine his surprise when he saw a music shop—in the middle of the forest. It’s really puzzling but considering the fact that he got three kids out of a single peach, he just shrugged it off. He hopped off his car and padded towards the glass display where he can clearly see a bright, shinning red microphone on a stand inside.
And that’s what exactly he’s looking for!
So he went inside and touched the red mic—then THE WORLD EXPLODED.
There’s just this huge dinosaur—who’s standing on his two hind legs by the way—and looks more like a mascot rather than a scary, giant reptile. But since the dino still magically popped out of nowhere, Papa Mori backed away in shock and fear for his life.
“D-don’t kill me!”
“You’re trying to steal my precious mic!” the dinosaur roared, making the glass panels slightly shook in their frames. He really should be confused that this mascot-dino can speak human language but he’s busy getting the shock of his life so he just ignored it.
“I don’t plan on stealing it! I’m just looking at it! My child wants something like that!”
“Nonsense! For that, you’re gonna die!”
The mascot is probably not aware of proper proceedings about taking in a criminal—but even before he can swing his giant—hooves? —leg, a voice suddenly called out in the background.
“Chotto matte, Boss!”
And it sounds Japanese.
“Let’s just ask for his child! Maybe the child is the one who can lift up the curse, Toru-nii—I mean, Gachapin-sama!”
The green dinosaur looked skeptical for a moment but Papa Mori had already decided—he won’t give up Takahiro for this—this—
“Okay, fine,” the dinosaur relented, “Hey you! Bring me your child! I don’t know your name but IU will find you and kill your entire family, you understand?!”
And so, Papa Mori went home with a heavy heart—and a red mic. His shoulders were slumped forward, his face in deep frown as he thinks about the dinosaur’s words earlier. It’s either Takahiro or his entire family’s lives!
Sure, Takahiro is a rebellious teenager—abusing his hair with different chemicals and colors—and is constantly flirting with everyone—everything that wear skirts—but he’s also a great child. A caring brother (even if he’s a huge tsundere about it) and a good son—even if it’s just to his mother.
But he really couldn’t sacrifice the others, too…
Papa Mori roughly exhaled as he trudged towards their humble house with an impending doom in his chest. As usual, he was greeted by his kids. He distributed all the gifts over the dining table—a small satisfied smile forming on his lips as he watched their youthful faces lit up with joy—well, except for Tomohiro—I swear that kid should learn how to loosen up—and then he suddenly remembered the condition from the dinosaur. That Gachapin had given him until midnight to reach a decision or else, the microphone would turn into a pumpkin, and yeah, of course, everyone would be killed.
So he decided that it’s time to gently break the news.
“We’re all gonna be dead,” he grimly announced, effectively gathering everyone’s attention. Hiro stopped dying his hair halfway, Tomohiro snorted, and Taka stopped swirling his mic into the air like a dumb cowboy.
“WHAT THE FU—ACK!” he groaned when his mic decided to land on his head of all places, “That hurts! Anyway, what the hell are you talking about, old man? Are you nuts?!”
“No, I’m just…” Papa Mori stared at his wrinkled open palms, “...I saw a talking chubby green dinosaur…”
The three young men exchanged looks of understanding. And this, Takahiro thought, is our father thinking that we’re dumb enough to not realized that he’s high as fuck.
Hiroki fidgeted on his spot across the sink, I don’t know, maybe we should bring him to a shrink?
A mental hospital, Tomohiro nodded, or a rehab center. That’s cheaper.
When Papa Mori noticed that his sons are not really taking him seriously and instead stared at each other as if they’re talking with just eye contacts or something, he slowly and gently told them the story of the mighty green dinosaur.
“That sounds…” Hiroki snorted, “completely normal. I mean, do you remember Belle? I think she got in this exact mess only that she got a lion and talking tea cups and a fucking castle all to herself.”
“Who the fuck is Belle?” Taka asked in confusion, looking abnormally calm even if his life is at stake on this, “Is she one of my American girls?”
“I think she’s German, Aniki.”
“…my German girls?”
Tomohiro raised a hand like he diligent boy he is, Papa Mori nodded to him—giving him the signal to speak his mind. He just hopes that his middle son won’t go ranting about shitty TV Producers again.
“So, what’s you’re saying, Father, is that this…this weird mascot is asking for Aniki’s ass?”
Papa Mori groaned at that, Hiroki slapped a palm on his face while Taka just let out a highly scandalized sound.
“What the fuck, Tomo!”
“What?” the second son turns towards the eldest, “I bet he wants to bed you, Aniki—,”
“Oh my God,” Papa Mori looks like he’s ready to throw himself out of their window.
“I don’t fuck dinosaurs!”
Hiroki lazily smirked at him, “Huh...? Who says that you’re gonna be doing the fucking, Aniki? I’ll bet 10, 000 yen that this dino-dude would seduce you and fuck your brains out—,”
“STOOOOP!!!” Their father