Chapter 3: First Meeting Disaster

Haruto Takeda straightened his posture as he stepped into the main living room of the Fujimoto house. The tatami mats smelled faintly of polished wood and incense, the sunlight filtering through shoji screens giving the room a soft glow. Everything was orderly, traditional—precisely what Haruto liked.

Unfortunately, this calm was about to be shattered.

Sakura Fujimoto sat cross-legged on a cushion at the low table, her cheeks still faintly pink from the sake she had finished moments before. She smiled lazily, giving the faint impression that she was sizing him up—or perhaps just bored.

“Ah… Haruto-kun,” she said with a playful tilt of her head. “So you’re the serious London doctor everyone’s been talking about?”

Haruto’s lips twitched. He bowed politely. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Fujimoto-san.” His voice was calm, measured, the very definition of composure.

Sakura’s eyes sparkled. “Meets the eyes and speaks in full sentences… hmm, maybe you’re not boring after all.”

Kenji Sakamoto, seated slightly behind Haruto, snorted. “I told you, Haruto. Small doses of fun.” He leaned forward, whispering loudly enough for both parents to hear, “I think she might be even wilder than I imagined.”

“Kenji!” Haruto hissed, pressing a hand to his mouth.

Hiroshi Fujimoto coughed nervously, adjusting his glasses. “Uh… Sakura, please behave. Remember—polite. Respectful.”

Sakura waved a hand dismissively. “Yes, Father, but fun is important too. Otherwise life’s boring, isn’t it?”

Mrs. Fujimoto, Hanako, pinched the bridge of her nose. “Just… try not to embarrass us too much,” she muttered under her breath.

Haruto bowed once more, trying to maintain his calm. “I… understand, Fujimoto-san. I will do my best to conduct myself properly.”

“Good,” Hiroshi Fujimoto said, still fidgeting. “Perhaps we should begin with tea?”

Kenji, of course, could not resist commentary. “Ah yes, tea. The perfect way to keep the peace… or start a small war.”

As the tea was brought out by the housemaid, Kenji managed to trip over the edge of the tatami, sending a porcelain plate of mochi sliding across the floor. Haruto’s eyes widened in horror.

“Kenji!” he whispered sharply, lunging forward to catch the plate, but it was too late. It clattered against the low table, bouncing toward Sakura.

She yelped, flailing her arms in surprise, but somehow managed to catch it mid-air with one hand. “Whoa! Nice save!” she said, laughing, her flushed cheeks making her look even more animated.

Hiroshi Fujimoto’s jaw tightened. “Sakura!”

Sakura giggled, setting the plate carefully back on the table. “See, Father? Not a big deal.”

Kenji bowed dramatically to her. “I accept my defeat… for now!”

Haruto pinched the bridge of his nose. He had anticipated awkward moments, but this level of chaos was… unprecedented.

The conversation continued, with polite questions about studies, hobbies, and family life. Every time Haruto began a composed answer, Sakura interjected with subtle, snarky remarks that had the potential to embarrass her parents.

“So, London, huh?” she asked. “Do you spend your days diagnosing people or… sipping tea and staring out the window at rain? I hear it rains a lot there.”

Haruto blinked, then nodded politely. “Both, in a manner of speaking. Rain does make one… contemplative.”

Sakura smirked. “Hmm. Contemplative. Interesting word for a serious man. But I bet you secretly enjoy a little chaos too.”

Haruto hesitated. “Chaos… in measured amounts, perhaps.”

Kenji elbowed him. “See! She already suspects it. Small doses, indeed.”

The tea ceremony, meant to be calm and formal, became increasingly unpredictable. Kenji mispronounced several Japanese phrases while attempting to be polite. At one point, he accidentally referred to the tea as “hot leaf water,” eliciting a stifled laugh from Sakura.

Hiroshi Fujimoto’s face turned red. “Kenji! Please… just be careful.”

Sakura leaned back, still smirking, and whispered to Haruto, “You see? I told you life’s never boring.”

Haruto’s jaw tightened, but a small smile tugged at his lips. Despite the chaos and embarrassment, he found her laughter… contagious.

Finally, Hiroshi Fujimoto cleared his throat, pushing his glasses higher on his nose. “Perhaps… it would be best if the two of you spoke privately for a while,” he suggested cautiously. “Upstairs. Just a short conversation to get to know each other.”

Sakura’s eyes gleamed mischievously. “Private, huh? Well, that sounds… interesting.” She stood gracefully, brushing the front of her kimono and hopping lightly toward the stairs.

Haruto bowed politely. “Of course, Fujimoto-san.”

Kenji nudged him. “This is it, Haruto. The calm before the storm—or the storm before the calm, maybe.”

Haruto shook his head, already bracing himself for whatever awaited him upstairs. Somehow, he had a feeling this private conversation would be far from ordinary.

And deep down, he was… curious.