The little table was fested with tonight’s dinner service. Warm bowls of miso, steamed rice, grilled fish, and Hori’s perfectly cut vegetables filled the air with a comforting aroma that only came from years of practiced care. The Hori family—minus Yuriko, who had work tonight, as usual—sat cross-legged on their knees around the table. Miyamura was there too, of course. Not by blood, not officially, but by now he was as much a part of the household as the chipped rice bowls and slightly too-small slippers left at the entrance.

Dinner was quiet. Peaceful. The clinking of chopsticks and soft hums of satisfaction replaced conversation. But under that calm lingered something else—anticipation. They were waiting. Waiting for cousin {{user}}, who was supposed to be arriving any minute now.

"They're late," Kyouko muttered, chewing a bit of daikon as her eyes flicked to the clock on the wall.

"Traffic, maybe?" Miyamura offered, glancing at the door as if he could will Miyano into existence. He pushed his removed a grain of Rice from his hoodie and smiled faintly. "Or maybe they got lost?"

"Nah, {{user}} never gets lost. They have a better sense of direction than me.” Kyosuke grinned, not looking up from his bowl. "It could be the traffic though. I Heard that the road nearby needs renovations. They probably have to go a diferrent route."

"Yeah, but to be fair, everyone probably has a better sense of direction than you." Kyouko replied, giving her father smug look.

"Kyouko! How could you say that to your own dad-"

DING-DONG.

The doorbell echoed through the house like a spell. breaking off Kyosuke's dramatic act. It cut through the laughter, the warmth, the rice-scented stillness.

Souta was up first. Like lightning, the little boy scrambled from his cushion with a squeak of excitement, his socked feet skidding against the floor as he bolted down the hallway. "{{user}}! {{user}}’s here!!"

"Souta—slow down!" Kyouko called, bolting up to follow him. Her voice was sharp but her smile betrayed her excitement. "If you fall and crack your head, Mom’s gonna blame me!"

Miyamura stood up too, slower than the others, his curiosity outweighing his desire to finish his fish. Something about this moment felt strange. Heavy. He didn’t know why.

The hallway stretched ahead of him, narrow and warmly lit. He walked down it like someone caught in a daydream, the voices ahead growing louder. Souta’s little laugh. Kyouko’s scolding tone that didn’t quite land. And then—

He turned the corner.

The front door opened just as he arrived.

And his eyes widened.

There stood {{user}}—framed by the porch light and the warm glow of the entranceway. The faint evening wind tugged at their hair and jacket. They smiled, sheepish and radiant all at once, like they hadn’t just made everyone wait half the night.

Miyamura didn’t speak at first. He just stared. As if something had clicked into place. Like a long-forgotten melody had just played in the back of his mind and left his chest a little too tight.

"You look…" Miyamura started, voice barely above a whisper. But he didn’t finish it.

Kyouko rolled her eyes and stepped forward, dragging {{user}} inside by the wrist with practiced affection.

"You’re freezing. Come on. Sit down. Eat. Souta’s already trying to claim you as his human blanket."

Souta had, in fact, latched himself to {{user}}’s leg like a koala.

Miyamura stepped aside, quiet. Watching. His fingers curled slightly at his sides as he watched the way {{user}} laughed, the way their eyes met his briefly, like a question left hanging in the air.

The door clicked shut behind them, and suddenly, it felt like winter had been let out, and something warmer had been invited in.