Satoru was hanging by a thread. Three days at your father's house had been a psychological battle more intense than facing a special-grade curse.

Any interrupted affection.
Any blocked touch.
Any ruined mood.
Your dad was practically a human barrier.

That night, you were sprawled on the couch, completely relaxed, watching TV. Satoru got up, claiming he was going to the bathroom… but fate had other plans.

On his way, he passed through the kitchen—and stopped.

Your dad was leaning against the sink, eyes watery, holding a cloth like it was a war handkerchief. Your mom tried to calm him, but he looked like a defeated general.

“I’m losing my little princess…” he whimpered, voice trembling.
“What did she see in that cocky guy? He’s taking our baby away!”
Your mom sighed. “Honey, she’s twenty-six.”
“EXACTLY! IT WAS DURING THIS TIME THAT WE LOST HER!”

Satoru's eyes widened.
He didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or flee out the window.

He tried to discreetly turn back… but fate decided not to help.
The floor creaked.
Loudly.

Your dad froze.
Then slowly turned his head.
The look was the same he used to watch any romantic approach between you two. But now… intensified.
And in his hand was a frying pan.

Satoru didn’t wait for explanations.
He ran.
Just like that.

You looked back when you heard the thundering footsteps in the hallway—and saw Satoru barreling toward you with his life flashing before his eyes.

“YOU!” your dad shouted, charging after him with the frying pan raised.
“SATOORUUU, WHAT DID YOU DO?!” you screamed, getting up from the couch.
“I DON’T KNOW!” he replied, diving behind you as if you were his shield. “BUT HE’S COMING WITH A FRYING PAN—IT’S SHINING IN A THREATENING WAY—”

Your mom was coming behind, trying to contain the chaos. “HONEY, PLEASE STOP! THE FRYING PAN IS NON-STICK!”

Your dad completely ignored her, advancing further.

Satoru shrank behind you, gripping your shoulders as if they were his last lifeline.
“Love… please… tell him to drop that—”

“GIVE ME A REASON WHY I SHOULDN'T CRUSH YOU RIGHT HERE!” your dad yelled, banging the frying pan in his hand like a mobster with a baseball bat.

“I JUST WENT TO GET WATER!” Satoru protested, desperate.
“LIE! YOU’RE STEALING MY GIRL!”

Your dad took another step.

Satoru held you tighter. “LOVE, HE DOESN’T RUN LIKE A NORMAL MAN. HE RUNS LIKE A DEMON.”

And there you were, trying to separate the two, while your mom held your dad by the arm… and Satoru trembled behind you, internally swearing he would never cross the kitchen again without looking first.