A lovely sunrise, warm sky, 6:15 o'clock…
Kisimoto blinked open his eyes, caught between dreams and the comforting scent of slightly burnt toast drifting in from the kitchen.
But then — CLACK! WHOOSH! SHING!
In the living room, Maria (who very clearly told everyone "no more Serena, it's MARIA now") was deep into morning warm-up… with two very sharp, very real, brand-new daggers.
"Um... Did you buy them now? …Serena?"
She paused mid-spin, glared.
"Maria. And yes. Bought them yesterday. Limited edition. Titanium alloy. Got them on discount because the shop guy said I looked 'intense.'"
Kisimoto squinted. "That's concerning. But also impressive."
"You're just jealous you can't slice bread with a backflip."
Meanwhile, on the couch—
NGHAAANKK… HHOOOO
Roko was snoring so loud the window trembled. A trail of drool glistened like morning dew on his chin. One arm hung off the couch like a defeated hero, while his mouth mumbled…
"I'ma F**K you up… BAM! BAM!"
Kisimoto side-eyed him. "Wonder what he's dreaming of…"
Maria grinned. "Revenge arc against the vending machine, probably."
But then—
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
Kisimoto jumped. "Who's that?!"
Maria opened the door.
No one there.
Just… boxes.
Big ones.
Taped up, labeled:
> "HANDLE WITH CARE – DIY RENO KIT"
Kisimoto gasped. "Wait… you actually ordered the renovation stuff?! I thought we were just talking about it!"
Maria smirked. "We were. I got bored."
"Bored enough to start a full house makeover?"
"Yup."
Cue montage:
Maria measuring walls with daggers.
Kisimoto arguing with an IKEA manual like it's written in ancient runes.
Roko finally waking up, tripping on bubble wrap, and getting tangled in curtain rods.
Paint splashes. One sock lost to quick-drying cement.
A mysterious floorboard that opened to reveal nothing but an old sock and a note that read "don't."
By sundown… the place was a mess. But a beautiful, chaotic, homemade mess.
Roko collapsed onto a newly built beanbag. "So… we live here now, right?"
Serena high-fived him. "We always did. By the way, I'm back!"
Kisimoto leaned against the repainted wall. "Serena?! Well, Honestly? Feels more like home now."
They all looked at the one untouched corner of the room. The Old Couch™. Faded, squeaky… and somehow sacred.
They nodded in agreement.
Matzumaki: "Leave that one. It's got history."
TO BE CONTINUED…