[Third Person Pov]
When Komi's father, Komi Masayoshi, stepped through the front door alongside his son Shousuke, he imdiately sensed sothing unusual in the atmosphere of their normally serene ho. There was an extra layer of brightness humming through the air, an almost festive energy, and it took him only a mont to realize the source: his wife.
Shuuko was moving around the kitchen with far more pep and animation than her already lively nature usually allowed—pots clinked, ingredients shuffled, and she practically glided from counter to counter, humming under her breath with a buoyant, springlike rhythm.
As Shousuke wordlessly made his way toward the stairs to retreat to his room, Masayoshi stepped quietly into the kitchen. Without a single word, he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to his wife's cheek in greeting. Shuuko, familiar with her husband's silent language after so many years, instantly recognized the unspoken question in his eyes.
Her response was imdiate and jubilant—her smile stretched wide enough to brighten the entire room as she sing-songed, "Shouko has a friend over~ Isn't that amazing?"
Shousuke, halfway up the staircase, paused mid-step. He glanced back toward the kitchen, the slightest twitch at the corner of his eye revealing his surprise. Even for him, who maintained the emotional expressiveness of a stone statue, the news was enough to disrupt his routine.
Masayoshi, anwhile, didn't move much at all, but Shuuko—who could read him better than anyone—saw the way joy burst out of him like sunlight through cracks. To anyone else he might have seed unchanged, but to her, he was practically radiating pride and astonished delight.
She suppressed a laugh at his stunned expression and nodded rapidly to confirm, "Yes, seriously. He's upstairs with her right now."
Masayoshi blinked. A very faint stiffening in his shoulders signaled another unspoken question: He?
"Yup! Clark-kun! The boy Shouko ntioned before," Shuuko answered brightly. She reached for a tray—a neat arrangent of juices and a small assortnt of snacks—and carefully placed the glasses upon it. Turning back toward him with the tray in hand, she continued, "I was just about to take this up to them. Why don't you go introduce yourself?"
Masayoshi accepted the tray automatically, but the mont the weight settled into his hands, reality seed to catch up with him. His daughter. A boy. In her room. Alone.
The tray trembled, the glasses rattling as his imagination began conjuring catastrophic scenarios at rapid speed.
Shuuko chuckled warmly and patted his shoulder, "Relax, dear~ From what I've seen, he's a good kid. And you do trust my judgnt, right?"
Masayoshi inhaled deeply, filling his chest with determination. He straightened his posture like a warrior marching toward battle and began ascending the staircase with deliberate, heavy steps. The tray wobbled dangerously with every footfall.
Upon reaching Shouko's bedroom door—slightly ajar—he nudged it open. What he saw made him freeze like a statue carved from granite.
Komi and Clark sat at her small study table… holding hands.
The mont they realized the door was opening, both teens jolted apart in a panic, launching themselves in opposite directions as though they had been caught committing an obscene act. Which in retrospect they were.
They scrambled back into their previous seats, pretending nothing had happened, though the air around them was thick with awkwardness.
Komi's entire face had gone a scorching shade of crimson. She kept her head bowed so low her bangs nearly hid her eyes, her hands trembling as she stared at her notebook. Steam practically seed to billow from the top of her head.
Across from her, Clark sat rigid, staring at the table as a frantic internal monologue echoed through his mind: 'How did I not hear him?! I couldn't have been that distracted!'
Masayoshi marched inside stiffly, his movents eerily robotic, and set the tray down in front of them. His face showed no emotion, but the atmosphere around him intensified—the signature overwhelming aura he and Shouko shared began to leak out like a quiet pressure.
He turned to Clark. Shoulders squared. Fists tight. Brows drawn low. The glare from his glasses reflected so fiercely that his eyes were completely obscured.
Clark looked up at him slowly. To anyone else—even seasoned adults—it would have appeared as if Komi Masayoshi was preparing to puml him for daring to hold his daughter's hand.
And for a mont, Clark genuinely believed that, since after all they were caught doing sothing lewd. 'Does… does this man want to fight ?!' he thought.
But then, studying him more carefully, Clark noticed the tiny telltale signs—the subtle trembling, the stiff posture, the way Masayoshi leaned ever so slightly forward as if pushing himself to speak.
Realization dawned.
He wasn't trying to intimidate him.
He was trying to work up the courage to introduce himself.
A small smile tugged at Clark's lips—he couldn't help it. The resemblance to Komi was too strong, too endearing.
Placing a hand on one knee, he rose to his full height.
Masayoshi's eyes widened a fraction as he was forced to tilt his head back slightly to maintain eye contact. Clark was considerably taller and far more muscular than he had anticipated—impressively built for soone his age. The surprise rippled across Masayoshi's usually unreadable expression.
Clark extended his hand with an easy, relaxed smile—one clearly ant to bridge any awkwardness lingering between them. "A pleasure to et you, sir. My na is Clark Ayase. I'm a classmate of Komi-san."
Masayoshi stared at the extended hand for a breath, the tension around his shoulders slowly untangling. The genuine warmth radiating from Clark's expression helped lt away a portion of his nervousness. He reached out, shook Clark's hand with surprising gentleness for a man who looked so stern, and whispered in a low, almost timid voice, "Masayoshi Komi… a pleasure to et you as well."
Clark released his hand and perford a polite, practiced bow. "Thank you for having in your ho. I'm truly grateful."
From her spot across the table, Komi slowly lifted her head, her face still warm but no longer burning. Her embarrassnt began to fade as she watched the interaction unfold—her father trying so hard not to lt into a puddle of nerves, and Clark effortlessly navigating the mont with polite gestures and calm sincerity. She could almost feel her earlier panic dissolving, leaving behind a small, proud smile.
Clark thanked Masayoshi for the juice and snacks, then extended that sa courtesy to Shuuko as well.
With introductions done, Masayoshi offered a stiff bow—the kind that silently conveyed, "I'll leave you two to your studies. Please excuse now." He then shuffled toward the door.
When he reached it, he gripped the handle and began to pull the door back into its original position. But then he hesitated. He looked at the door… then at the teens… then at the door again. He repeated this little back-and-forth motion two or three more tis, clearly conflicted. Finally, he exhaled, pushed the door open even wider than it was before, he nodded and briskly walked away.
Clark couldn't help the snicker that escaped. He slowly sat back into his seat and glanced at Komi with amusent dancing in his eyes. "Well… your father seems like a nice man."
Downstairs, Masayoshi heard Clark's comnt and—though it was barely visible to anyone—his lips twitched upward in a tiny, pleased smile.
Shuuko peeked at him as he entered the kitchen. "How was it?"
Masayoshi nearly collapsed forward, catching himself on the counter as he tried to regain his breath. His trembling shoulders and wide-eyed stare told her everything: Terrifying… and yet you were right. He's a good kid.
He straightened slowly, adjusting his glasses with a shaky exhale. "When I entered… they were holding hands…" he muttered, barely audible.
"What?!" Shuuko gasped, scandalized. She couldn't believe they would do such a thing before marriage. Her shock lasted exactly one dramatic second before it lted into sparkling excitent. She clasped her hands together with a delighted squeal. "They must be much closer than I thought! Oh, how wonderful!"
Upstairs, Komi watched Clark sip from his glass with a small, smile. He raised an eyebrow. "What?"
She quickly lifted her phone and typed a simple sentence before turning the screen toward him: "Nothing. I just didn't know you could be so polite."
Clark stared at her with exaggerated offense. "What's that supposed to an?"
Komi gave him a flat, unimpressed look. She pointed to her own normally gentle, angelic features… then pointed at him. Her expression then twisted into a perfect imitation of Clark's usual snarling, intimidating glare—furrowed brow, narrowed eyes, the whole thing. She looked like she was about to extort money out of him
"Pff—!" Clark sputtered, nearly spraying juice across the table as he choked on his laughter. "Haha, Oh, co on! I don't look like that!"
Komi held her expression. Not even a blink.
That alone made Clark collapse into another round of chuckles. "Alright, alright—fine. Maybe a little. But still! I know how to be polite. I'm perfectly capable of it. I just… choose not to most of the ti." He grumbled the last bit into his glass before taking another sip.
At that mont, Shousuke stood just outside the door, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, listening to the soft sound of his sister's giggles. He stayed there for a mont, observing the cheerful banter, the easy clicks of conversation. Then, with a faint smile creeping onto his lips, he pushed off the wall and walked back toward his room, hands in pockets.
Clark glanced toward the door as he sensed movent, he let it go and turned his attention fully back to Komi—who, for once, was smiling brightly without a hint of nervousness.
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