Chapter 2: Arrival at Fujimoto House

The taxi slowed to a stop in front of a traditional Niigata home. Wooden beams framed the entrance, and a small winter garden bloomed with camellias dusted lightly with snow. Haruto Takeda stepped out first, adjusting his coat and smoothing his neatly parted hair. Beside him, Kenji Sakamoto tripped over a stone path, flailing dramatically before catching himself on a lantern.

“Kenji! Careful!” Haruto hissed, though a faint smile tugged at his lips.

“Relax! I’m adding excitement to this dull, proper world,” Kenji replied, brushing snow off his sleeve and waving at a startled neighbor.

Haruto groaned. Of course, Kenji’s idea of “excitement” always bordered on disaster.

Behind them, Haruto’s parents emerged. Takeda Kazuo, tall, stoic, and immaculately dressed, straightened his black suit as if it were armor. Takeda Emiko, graceful and composed, placed a reassuring hand on her son’s shoulder.

“Haruto,” Emiko said softly, her voice a gentle anchor, “remember to be polite and composed. The Fujimotos are… particular.”

Haruto nodded. “Yes, Mother.”

Kenji peeked around Haruto, whispering with a grin. “Particular? Oh, this is going to be fun. I can already see it: spilled tea, runaway cat… someone fainting. It’s going to be legendary.”

“Kenji!” Haruto hissed sharply.

“Oh, come on. You can’t deny it’s exciting,” Kenji whispered back, his eyes twinkling.

Inside the house, tension hummed like electricity. Fujimoto Hiroshi, small, fussy, and constantly adjusting his glasses, wrung his hands nervously. “Hanako… I swear, she’s going to make a scene again,” he muttered.

Fujimoto Hanako, tall, elegant, and always composed, sighed in response. “It’s Sakura. What did you expect? Just stay calm and try to guide her.”

Upstairs, Sakura Fujimoto ignored every parental warning. A half-empty cup of sake sat on her desk, and the faint scent of alcohol lingered in the air. She hummed a tuneless melody, tapping her foot to an invisible beat, utterly oblivious to the nervous energy below.

The Takeda family approached the entrance with measured bows. Haruto stepped forward first. “Fujimoto-san, Hanako-san, it is a pleasure to meet you.”

Hiroshi Fujimoto adjusted his glasses nervously. “Ah… yes… welcome.” Hanako Fujimoto offered a polite smile, though the faint worry lines on her face betrayed her concern over her daughter’s unpredictable behavior.

Kenji, of course, could not resist breaking the fragile calm. “So this is the house of the infamous disaster-in-person?” he muttered to Haruto.

“Kenji!” Haruto hissed, but the corner of his mouth betrayed a twitch of amusement.

“Just stating facts,” Kenji replied with a grin.

Polite conversation continued, with stiff bows and formal greetings exchanged. Kazuo Takeda’s voice remained calm and measured, introducing Haruto’s family and praising the Fujimotos’ hospitality. Emiko Takeda smiled gently, offering small compliments about the home.

Hiroshi Fujimoto fidgeted, muttering, “Everything must go smoothly… please let nothing happen.” Hanako Fujimoto nodded, her fingers nervously twisting the hem of her kimono.

Finally, Hanako Fujimoto suggested, “Perhaps it would be best if Sakura joined us now.”

At that exact moment, a loud thump echoed from upstairs. A brief, tuneless hum was abruptly cut off, followed by the sound of something clattering to the floor.

Haruto’s eyes instinctively followed the sound as a girl appeared at the top of the stairs. Shoulder-length hair slightly mussed, cheeks flushed a soft pink, and a mischievous sparkle in her dark eyes—she swayed slightly, gripping the railing for balance.

Sakura Fujimoto.

Haruto blinked. She was wilder than he had imagined, with an energy that seemed almost tangible. And somehow… even more charming.

Kenji elbowed him sharply. “See? I told you. Total disaster. And ridiculously cute.”

Haruto let out a faint laugh, a mix of exasperation and curiosity stirring in his chest. Somehow, despite the warning signs, he found himself intrigued.

Sakura’s gaze finally fell on him. She waved one hand lazily, then yawned dramatically. “Oh… hello,” she said, her voice lilting and casual. “You must be… Haruto-kun?”

Haruto straightened, careful to bow politely. “Yes. It is a pleasure to meet you, Fujimoto-san.”

Sakura tilted her head, eyes twinkling. “You look… serious. London serious?”

Haruto blinked. “I… suppose so.”

Kenji snickered. “Oh, London serious? That’s one way to describe him. Don’t worry, Haruto’s fun… in small doses.”

Sakura’s lips curved into a mischievous grin. “Small doses, huh? That’ll be interesting.”

Hiroshi Fujimoto cleared his throat nervously. “Uh… Sakura, please be polite.”

Sakura waved him off with a flick of her hand, already bouncing lightly on her heels. “I am polite! Just… lively. That’s all.”

Haruto’s parents exchanged glances. Emiko gave a small, encouraging smile. Kazuo remained stoic but his eyes softened slightly. Somehow, they knew this meeting would be… memorable.

Haruto, however, felt a strange flutter of anticipation. She was unpredictable, yes—but also undeniably captivating. Despite the chaos hinted at by Kenji’s warnings, he found himself curious about how the next few hours would unfold.

As Sakura bounded down the stairs, Kenji whispered, “Yep. This girl’s a storm in a teacup.”

Haruto sighed, half-exasperated, half-amused. He had a feeling that his quiet, orderly life was about to be turned upside down.

And somehow… he was already looking forward to it.