March 20, 2026. Five days after the festival.
Akira's phone buzzed during lunch.
Mother.
He stepped out of the cafeteria to answer.
"Akira."
"Yes, Mother."
A pause—cool, deliberate.
"We've discussed it. Your father and I want to meet this… Hayashi Sora. Properly. Dinner. Saturday evening. Our house. 18:00."
Akira's stomach tightened. "She has plans."
"Cancel them. This is not a request."
Akira closed his eyes. "I'll ask her."
"You'll bring her. We expect courtesy. Dress appropriately. No excuses."
The line went dead.
Akira stared at the screen.
He found Sora at her locker after classes.
She smiled when she saw him—bright, easy.
"Hey. Walk me home?"
Akira nodded. "Yes. But first… we need to talk."
Sora's smile faltered. "That sounds serious."
They walked to the courtyard—same bench.
Akira sat. Sora sat beside him.
He spoke quietly. "My parents want to meet you. Dinner. Saturday. At our house."
Sora went still.
Akira continued. "They saw the festival clips. They know we're together. They… disapprove."
Sora exhaled slowly. "They want to interrogate me."
"They want to evaluate you."
Sora laughed—short, nervous. "Great. The in-laws from hell before we've even had a second date."
Akira's hand found hers. "You don't have to come."
Sora squeezed his fingers. "I do. If I don't, they'll think I'm scared. Or ashamed. Or that I'm not serious about you."
Akira met her eyes. "Are you serious?"
Sora leaned closer. "Dead serious."
She kissed his cheek—quick, reassuring.
Akira's ears went pink. "Then we'll go. Together."
Sora nodded. "Together."
They sat in silence a moment.
Sora spoke softly. "What should I wear? Something boring? Something that screams 'I'm not a distraction'?"
Akira almost smiled. "Wear what you want. Be yourself."
Sora raised an eyebrow. "Even the chaotic me?"
"Especially the chaotic you."
Sora laughed—real this time.
Akira pulled her closer—arm around her shoulders.
They stayed like that until the bell rang.
Saturday was coming.
And they were walking into the storm—hand in hand.