"So, you're meeting my parents tonight," Rina said, as casually as if she were announcing a pop quiz.
I choked on my milk bread. We were on the school roof, enjoying a peaceful lunch. Or, what passed for peaceful with Rina, which meant she hadn't tried to "helpfully" season my bento with a suspicious-looking packet of "extra-spicy fun powder" yet.
"Your… parents?" I managed to squeak out, my voice an octave higher than usual.
"Mhm," she hummed, taking a delicate bite of her tamagoyaki. "Mom's making her famous katsudon. She's really excited to meet the boy who finally managed to survive my… affections."
'Affections' was one word for it. 'Hazardous obstacle course' was another. Meeting the people who created this beautiful, terrifying creature? I wasn't sure if I was ready for that level of boss battle. My mind immediately conjured images of a stern, disapproving father with a katana and a mother who would scrutinize my every move, judging my worthiness with icy glares. I've seen this anime. I know how it goes.
"Don't look so terrified," Rina laughed, poking my cheek. "They're just people."
"Just people who spawned you," I muttered.
"Exactly! So they're awesome," she said with a grin that was both reassuring and deeply unsettling. "Just be yourself. They'll love you."
Famous last words.
That evening, I stood in front of her front door, clutching a box of ridiculously expensive-looking pastries like it was a shield. I had changed my shirt three times, practiced my introductory bow in the mirror until my back hurt, and gargled so much my mouth was minty-fresh to a medically alarming degree.
The door swung open before I could even ring the bell. A woman with short, spiky hair and arms that looked like they could wrestle a bear—and win—beamed at me. She was wearing a pink apron over a track suit. This had to be Rina's mom.
"You must be Aoshi!" she boomed, her voice full of energy. She clapped me on the shoulder, and I swear I felt my spine compress. "Welcome! I'm Haruna. Heard a lot about you, kid. Takes some real grit to keep up with my little firecracker."
Before I could respond, she pulled me into the house. "Honey! He's here! The boy toy has arrived!"
"I'm not a toy!" I yelped, my face turning crimson.
Rina appeared at the top of the stairs, looking angelic in a simple sundress. She gave me a tiny wave and a sympathetic wince. "Mom, be nice."
A man who was the polar opposite of his wife ambled into the hallway. He was smaller, with kind, crinkly eyes and a gentle smile. He wore a cardigan, even though it was warm, and held a small, colorfully painted ceramic figure in his hand. This must be Dad.
"Ah, so this is the young man," he said softly. "It's a pleasure, Aoshi. I'm Kenji." He shook my hand. His grip was surprisingly firm. "Rina tells me you're quite the… creative thinker."
I had a feeling "creative thinker" was code for "the boy who rigged the school's PA system to play sea shanties for an entire afternoon."
"It's an honor to meet you both, sir, ma'am," I said, executing my well-practiced bow. I presented the pastries. "These are for you."
"Oh, how thoughtful!" Haruna said, taking the box. "Kenji, look, he's a gentleman. Let's see if he can handle a friendly spar later."
"Now, dear," Kenji said calmly. "Let the boy eat first. We don't want to scare him off before dessert."
Dinner was… an experience. The katsudon was, as promised, heavenly. The conversation, however, was a minefield. Haruna kept asking me about my physical fitness routine and telling stories about her glory days as a pro-wrestler named "The Crimson Comet." At one point, she demonstrated her signature move, "The Comet Crash," on a poor, unsuspecting throw pillow, which promptly burst, sending fluff everywhere.
Kenji, on the other hand, was quieter. He just kept studying me with a thoughtful expression. Halfway through the meal, he cleared his throat.
"So, Aoshi," he began, his eyes twinkling. "Rina mentioned you have a keen artistic eye."
Oh no. Where was this going? I glanced at Rina, who was suddenly intensely focused on her rice, a smirk playing on her lips. She was enjoying this. She was a monster.
"Uh, I wouldn't say that, sir. I'm not much of an artist," I said humbly.
"Nonsense!" Kenji declared, his face lighting up. "She told me you're a master of miniature painting. A true prodigy!"
My blood ran cold. Miniature painting? I once got a C- in art class for painting a stick figure. Rina had set me up. This was her revenge for the sea shanties. It had to be.
"Dad is the president of the Neighborhood Garden Gnome Association," Rina explained, her voice dripping with false innocence. "He's always looking for new talent."
Kenji's eyes were practically sparkling now. "I have a new acquisition, a rare Bavarian Woodlander model, that needs a very steady hand. Perhaps you could give me some pointers after dinner?"
My life flashed before my eyes. I was going to be exposed as a fraud. Rina's dad would hate me. Haruna would probably put me in a real headlock this time. I had to think fast.
"Well, sir," I began, my brain working faster than it ever had during an exam. "My style is… rather unorthodox. It's a very abstract, interpretive method. I focus less on the physical form and more on the… spiritual essence of the gnome."
Kenji leaned forward, utterly captivated. "Fascinating! A spiritualist gnome painter! Tell me more!"
I spent the next twenty minutes spewing the most ridiculous artistic nonsense I could think of. I talked about color theory representing the gnome's inner turmoil, about brushstrokes capturing its ancestral woodland memories. Rina was visibly shaking with suppressed laughter, hiding her face behind her water glass. To my utter astonishment, her dad was buying every single word.
After dinner, he led me to his "studio," a shed in the backyard that was filled wall-to-wall with garden gnomes of every shape and size. It was both impressive and terrifying. In the center, on a velvet pedestal, was the Bavarian Woodlander.
"So," Kenji said, handing me a tiny brush. "Show me."
I was trapped. I took the brush. My hand was shaking. I dipped it in red paint. I looked at the gnome. The gnome looked at me, its cheerful, bearded face a mockery of my impending doom. I took a deep breath, channeled my inner fraud, and dabbed a single, abstract red dot right on the tip of its nose.
I held my breath.
Kenji stared at the gnome. He tilted his head. He squinted. The silence stretched for an eternity.
Then, he gasped. A single tear rolled down his cheek.
"Brilliant," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "It's so… bold. So minimalist. You've captured its joy. The pure, unadulterated joy of being a gnome. You truly are a master, my boy."
I had done it. I had somehow succeeded. I felt a surge of triumphant relief so powerful it almost made me dizzy.
My victory was short-lived. As we walked back into the house, a proud Kenji holding his "masterpiece," Haruna clapped me on the back again.
"Alright, hotshot artist," she grinned. "Now that you've impressed the old man, time for the real test."
She hooked her arm around my neck, pulling me into a surprisingly gentle, yet inescapable, headlock.
"Rule number one," she said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper right next to my ear. "You make my daughter cry, and 'The Crimson Comet' will make a comeback. Understand?"
"Y-Yes, ma'am," I wheezed, tapping her arm in submission.
She let me go, laughing heartily. Rina was leaning against the doorframe, giggling uncontrollably into her hand. Her eyes met mine, and in them, I saw it all: the apology, the absolute lack of regret, and a whole lot of love.
As I left their crazy, chaotic, wonderful house later that night, I realized I hadn't just met her parents. I had survived a rite of passage. And as strange as it was, I felt like I was finally, truly, part of her world. A world of pro-wrestler moms, spiritual gnome-painting dads, and the beautifully unpredictable girl who ruled over it all.