Keiji should not have been surprised by Haruto's house. He knew that the Gima's were wealthy, so he had correctly assumed that it would be a rather large estate. What he had improperly guessed was that it would be filled with high-end, expensive things. The reality was that there was a closet full of that sort of thing, for whenever a formal business meeting or family holiday would be hosted there. On normal days, like now, it was like a regular house. Just... four times larger. He should've figured. Though Haruto was brilliantly creative, he was a disaster waiting to happen. Best to keep the pricey, delicate stuff separate from daily life.

"MOM! DAD! I'M HOME!" he bellowed immediately as both boys removed their shoes.

"Welcome home!" Himari greeted. Upon seeing Keiji, she promptly squeaked. "Oh my goodness! Honey, when you said you were bringing a surprise home today, I had no idea you meant this! Keiji, sweetie, welcome!" She hugged him, which made him go stick-straight. He didn't hug back, but couldn't find the voice to object, either. Even if he'd felt emotionally prepared, he was holding a wrapped package. "Oh, sorry, dear, that was much too forward of me. It's just so exciting to see you after all this time."

"Th-Thank you for having me, Mrs. Gima. I intend to be an honorable houseguest." He tried to summon forth a smile and only managed half of one plus an awkward wave. It made Haruto snicker playfully, and Keiji had to hold back a massive glare in his direction.

"No need to be so formal. I don't bite!"

"He can't help it. He's super proper around adults," Haruto winked. Tested, Keiji scowled, which only served to entertain his schoolmate more.

"Here. They're macarons." He held up the gift.

"What a sweetheart." The compliment nearly made him flinch.

Himari was dressed well, in Keiji's opinion. Her high-waisted slacks were red-and-black houndstooth patterned, and she had a simple white blouse tucked into it. Her hair, just as orange-zesty as her son's but far straighter, was in a half-ponytail. Keiji silently marveled at how long it was. It seemed to him as though she'd never had more than a slight trim in her life. "Oooh, I have a marvelous idea! Arata is on a phone meeting. Once he's done, we'll tell him something special has shown up in the kitchen. He'll think it's a package or something like that, but then... BAM! You'll be there waiting!"

"Better yet! I can pretend like I messed something up or like I need help. So Dad will be all serious, but then this will totally brighten his mood, 100%!" Haruto added. Mother and son giggled mischievously and high-fived each other. Keiji felt somewhat out of place, but they'd soon marched him into the kitchen and seated him at one of the (admittedly very comfy) chairs. Meanwhile, Haruto and Himari chatted genially about how his school day and her workday had gone. Keiji worked on his homework, occasionally chipping in and providing vague answers when one of them would ask him a question. Then, they could hear a door open and shut down the hall. "Ooh! Time for me to do some killer acting!" He leapt from his chair and charged out of the room.

Himari put a finger to her lip and winked. Keiji nodded and kept quiet. "Dad! Dad, one of the shelves in the pantry broke!"

"What? Now, how on Earth did you manage to accomplish that?" His tone was mildly stressed, but moreso teasing.

"I– Um... I was trying to reach something on a higher shelf and wound up putting too much of my weight on a lower one." A bashfulness crept into Haruto's voice, and Keiji couldn't help but think that this was definitely the type of accident that would legitimately happen to him. "I'm so sorry! I know it was dumb of me!"

"Oh, Bisque. Next time you need something too high up, just ask your mother or wait for me to be finished. But, it's easily fixed. No need to keep yourself down. Let me go check for the damages." Two pairs of footsteps resounded: a gentle, calm stride and a set of quick pitter-patters. The door opened.

"Surprise!!" Himari yelped, raising her arms in celebration and waving them in Keiji's direction. He greeted Arata in much the same way he greeted Himari— a timid wave and a smile that couldn't quite reach completion.

The shock took longer to drop off of Arata, but once it did, he beamed. "Woah! What are you doing here?"

"Hello, Mr. Gima. It's nice to see you. As for what I'm doing here, well... Haruto and I are schoolmates again. He invited me over. I apologize if I'm being an intrusion."

"Not at all. You're a good kid. The type of person I'm glad Bisque has in his life.

Keiji felt like a fraud. The shame that sprouted in him like a weed threatened to choke the life out of him. It was strange. He may be proper around adults, but it was always colder than this, and he usually wasn't afraid to act like his normal self in their presence. Here, though, he felt as though he were wearing a personality that didn't fit him anymore. But he didn't want to break the illusion for them. He didn't want to taint the legacy behind the person who'd done so much for their son. "That's high praise, sir. Thank you."

"Sir? Arata, tell him he doesn't have to be so formal! It's only us, after all!"

"Dear, let him use whatever he's comfortable with. It's been years since he's seen us." Good. That was for the best.

Haruto tried to get a read on Keiji's face. Pretty much all he could sense was awkward friendliness, and it made him feel like laughing. After acting like such a bold, unflappable lion for the past few months, who knew that all it would take to make him stop being so pissy was Bisque's own parents?

"Do you have any dinner plans, Keiji?"

"Hm? No. I would probably have just made myself a sandwich."

"Stay for as long as you want, then! There's always room in our home for one more!" Himari's raw force of personality was enough to make Keiji nod without thinking.

"Hey, Keiji, can you cook?" Bisque asked, genuinely curious.

To his surprise, an almost murderous glance was shot his way before Keiji could suppress it. "I am, in fact, notoriously unskilled at cooking. I apologize that I cannot contribute. But unless you would like me to burn your house down"— the words were intoned such that they could be either playful or offended— "it's best not to ask my help in the kitchen."

Arata adjusted his silver glasses. "That's A-Okay. Himari and I switch out what days we cook, and today's my day. I find cooking quite soothing, so I don't mind doing it alone." He gave a thumbs up. His hair was brown and short, but just as wildly curly as his son's. He looked a little younger than he was.

"I can set the table—"

Himari objected. "Sweetie, relax! Unwind! You're our guest, let us take care of you."

"You really don't have to be so maternal!" he blurted out.

"OKAY! Keiji and I are gonna go do homework in my room!" Bisque announced loudly at the same time, hiding Keiji's instinctive statement. "C'mon!"

"Alright," Keiji murmured, gathering his stuff and trailing behind. Upon entering his room, Keiji's expectations were once again subverted. But he recovered quickly. "There's no way you're this organized normally. You went on a cleaning spree yesterday because you didn't want to embarrass yourself when I showed up, huh?"

"Dang! I got busted immediately!" Bisque was utterly unconcerned, assuming he'd guess that pretty quickly anyway. "Look! I've got pinball! Wanna go for a few rounds?"

"You said homework," he hissed. "Just because you decided we're apparently best friends, it doesn't mean I'm gonna change my priorities even a little bit. My grades come before your whims, always."

"Ugh. Should've figured you'd only be nice when people are looking at you. It's like the total opposite of usual!"

"You've made it clear that I'm stuck with you for the next few years. I have to see your face every day. Them? Not nearly as often. I can fake it for them."

"Okay, whatever, Keiji. But if you say anything mean to or about my parents, I'm going to kick you out."

Keiji opened his mouth to say something like, "If that's all it takes for you to leave me the fuck alone," but the words caught in his mouth. He couldn't even bluff that he had any real complaints about the two of them. So instead, he rolled his eyes and responded, "Yes, sir." He grabbed his laptop and notebook from his bag and resumed his work, sitting on the floor.

"You can have the desk! Sometimes it feels better to work on my bed anyway."

"Weren't you going to play pinball? You're confusing the shit out of me."

"If you're gonna be all responsible, I may as well actually try, too. I have an easier time working when I'm not the only one, anyway!"

"Hm. Interesting." The two worked in tandem for a while. It was actually the first time in ages that Keiji had done homework alongside a peer– though the level of their classwork was hardly comparable. Even so. It was... not entirely unpleasant. Haruto struggled for the first several minutes, shifting around and failing to get comfortable and focused. Soon, though, he seemed to fall into a rhythm. Keiji peered a little closer. He appeared to be listening to music with one earbud, and was tilting his head softly to a beat.

Keiji managed to finish relatively swiftly, and moved on to an extra credit assignment. Haruto unplugged his phone, then, letting a high-energy pop song fill the air. He leapt off his bed and wiggled around in an enthusiastic dance. He managed to nearly trip himself up, but this only made him cackle. "C'mon, Keij! You deserve a dance break!"

"No." It dawned on him rather suddenly that he legitimately couldn't even remember the last time he'd danced. "No," he repeated with a dismissive shake of the head.

"But your feet are tapping!"

"What?! Wait, they are!"

"Heheeee! People say I'm the oblivious one, but you're just as bad sometimes!

There was a polite knock on the door. "Yeppity yep?"

Arata opened it. "Dinner's ready, boys. I think I did quite well today. But I suppose you'll be the judge of that." He smirked and turned back with those same soft footsteps.

It turned out, dinner was miso salmon. Keiji had no complaints— he rarely had complaints, considering he could barely taste much of anything. The conversation was far more lively than it was at home. They wound up playing a word association game and dragging Keiji into it. Under the umbrella of competition, all pretenses of humility vanished, and Keiji whooped their asses. Intriguingly, they seemed to find this funny. Eventually, they even teamed up on him to play shiritori three-on-one, which finally made it a smidge of a challenge, but he still won the vast majority of the games. When they trash talked him, he knew it was fair game— though he avoided anything too flagrantly offensive.

It got to the point where the hour grew much later than any of them expected. It was too late for Keiji to feel comfortable walking, and for the Gima's to feel comfortable with him taking public transport alone, so Himari offered to drive him home. He hated feeling so helpless, but begrudgingly obliged.

"Thank you for coming, Keiji." The fondness in her voice was unmistakable. "Will you be coming again?"

The prior shyness re-emerged. "Um. Perhaps. If you'll have me, and if I find the time. This was... fun."

And, to his dismay, or perhaps confusion, that was absolutely the truth.