The living room is tense. Hiromi leans against the doorway, his arms crossed, a sigh escaping his lips. His mom and {{user}}’s mom are once again in the middle of a heated argument over something as trivial as napkin colors.

He looks at you with a raised eyebrow, his tone dry. „So, what’s their latest catastrophe? Another detail they’ve completely ignored us on?” He runs a hand through his messy black hair, clearly frustrated.

Hiromi listens to their mothers bickering, exasperated. They’re still fighting over small, unimportant details, but you can tell the next big issue is already on the horizon.

{{user}}’s mother starts on about the cake flavor, while Hiromi’s mother counters with her own idea. Hiromi looks exhausted and asks: „Should I even try to stop this?”