Chapter 5: Confession at First Sight

Haruto Takeda descended the stairs slowly, his shoes making soft squeaks on the polished wooden steps. The faint sunlight spilling through the shoji screens painted a warm glow across the living room, but despite the serene atmosphere, Haruto’s mind was anything but calm.

Kenji Sakamoto trailed behind him, fidgeting with a loose tatami edge and humming a tune that had nothing to do with the moment. “So… how did it go? Any fainting? Secret sake? Did she confess her undying love?” he whispered loudly, earning a sharp glare from Haruto.

“Kenji!” Haruto hissed, pressing a hand to his mouth to stop himself from shouting.

Kenji leaned closer, grinning. “I’m just saying… I need details, man. Details!”

Haruto exhaled slowly, straightening his posture as he entered the main room. His parents, Takeda Kazuo and Takeda Emiko, sat politely near the low table, exchanging glances with the Fujimotos. Haruto’s father’s sharp eyes flicked to him immediately, as if expecting a full report on his conduct.

“Haruto,” Kazuo said formally, “is everything in order? Was the conversation… appropriate?”

“Yes, Father,” Haruto replied calmly. “Everything went as it should.”

Kenji rolled his eyes dramatically. “Oh sure, all orderly and proper… if by ‘orderly’ you mean someone got dizzy and fainted!”

Haruto ignored him, though a tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed the amusement he was trying to suppress.

Across the room, Fujimoto Hiroshi and Fujimoto Hanako sat stiffly, sipping their tea with barely contained tension. The faint scent of worry clung to them. Sakura was upstairs, presumably recovering from her nap—or perhaps scheming her next unpredictable move.

Kenji leaned in toward Haruto, whispering conspiratorially. “So… are you going to say it? You know, the thing everyone’s secretly waiting for?”

Haruto’s eyes narrowed. “Kenji, do not—”

But Kenji was already smirking, nudging him with an elbow. “You like her, don’t you? Admit it. It’s written all over your face, Mr. Serious-London-Doctor.”

Haruto’s lips pressed into a thin line. He glanced at his parents, whose polite, expectant expressions made him more flustered than he cared to admit.

Without thinking, almost on impulse, Haruto straightened his back, lifted his chin, and spoke.

“I… like the girl.”

The room went still. The words seemed impossibly loud in the quiet living room.

Kazuo Takeda’s sharp gaze widened slightly, while Emiko Takeda blinked, hands frozen over her tea cup. “Excuse me?” she asked, unsure she had heard correctly.

Kenji, meanwhile, practically fell out of his cushion laughing. “Hahahaha! He actually said it! He said it! Haruto likes her!”

Haruto gave him a death glare, but Kenji was too busy whooping and flailing his arms to notice.

“Haruto!” Kazuo said, voice a mixture of shock and disbelief. “Did you just—?”

“I said what I feel,” Haruto interrupted calmly, surprising even himself with the steadiness in his voice. “I like Sakura-san.”

Hanako Fujimoto’s hand flew to her mouth. “What? You mean… the daughter…?”

Hiroshi Fujimoto adjusted his glasses frantically. “This… this is… sudden!”

Kenji bounced in his seat. “Sudden? Oh, come on! You’ve been crushing since day one, admit it! I could see it in your carefully composed London face!”

Haruto’s cheeks warmed slightly. “Kenji—please.”

Emiko Takeda, always composed, placed a gentle hand on her husband’s arm. “Kazuo… perhaps this is… a good thing? It shows honesty, at least.”

Kazuo’s expression remained serious, but his eyes softened minutely. “Honesty… yes. But suddenness… astonishing.”

Sakura’s absence upstairs only heightened the tension. The Fujimotos glanced nervously at each other, still unaware of the private-room incident that had preceded this confession.

Kenji, unable to resist, leaned closer to Haruto and whispered, loud enough for everyone to hear, “You know… nothing will be boring now. Not with her, not with you. And not with me around.”

Haruto shot him a pointed glare. “Kenji!”

Sakura’s laughter—or at least the sound of it—floated faintly from upstairs. She must have overheard the last part of the conversation, though no one could see her.

Hiroshi Fujimoto’s hands tightened around his teacup. “What… does she know already?”

Hanako Fujimoto’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Knowing Sakura… she probably does. And she’s probably planning her next ‘surprise.’”

Haruto exhaled slowly, trying to calm himself. Despite the comic chaos surrounding him, he felt a quiet satisfaction. He had admitted his feelings, however awkwardly, and for the first time since returning to Japan, he felt a little lighter—more in control of his own emotions.

Kenji, ever the dramatist, whispered again, “Ohhh… this is perfect. First fainting upstairs, now a confession downstairs. The perfect start to your… chaotic romance!”

Haruto’s lips twitched, though he refused to look at him directly. “Kenji, you’re unbelievable.”

Kenji grinned. “And don’t you forget it. Just wait—this is going to be legendary. You and her. Chaos guaranteed.”

The room remained in light tension. Haruto’s parents were still processing the confession, while the Fujimotos worried silently about their daughter. Meanwhile, the faint sound of Sakura’s humming from upstairs reminded everyone that nothing—no formality, no polite conversation—would ever be simple around her.

Haruto took a deep breath, a secret smile tugging at his lips. Despite the embarrassment, the chaos, and the endless teasing from Kenji, he felt… curious. Curious about what came next, curious about Sakura, and curious about the unpredictable path that had already begun to unfold before him.

And somehow, amidst the awkward glances and nervous laughter, the first thread of romance had quietly begun to weave itself into the chaotic fabric of their meeting.