From the foyer, Kuruso called out, "We're back!"

My eyes locked on the TV screen as I replied on autopilot, "Yo.". Now I have a clear shot at winning, and damned if I let one more motherfucker hit me with a blue shell. A finger hovered near the item button, just in case I needed to use the boombox...

BIG BROTHER, HI!"

After a blue-haired harpy hugged me, the announcement of an incoming blue shell was followed by an explosion of blue fire. The similarity between these events was not lost on me.

There was only one visible sign of distress at another loss, a sharp inhale that kept me from snapping at her. It was just a dumb game, after all. Not bitter at all.

As I awkwardly patted her shoulder, I said, "Hi, Papi." "How are things?"

"Oooh, goochy!" she said as she drew away. "Boss bought us ice cream!"

When Kuruso, Miia, and Centorea entered the living room, I remarked, "That was very nice of him."

"Well, I feel bad about running out on everyone last night," Kuruso explained, looking embarrassed, "so I figured I should find a way to repay you. I'll get you something later if you want, Bando-san."

"Eh, just get me a beer or two sometime soon, and we'll call it even." Even though everything I did last night was primarily for his sake, it wasn't all bad. Miia opened up to me unexpectedly, Papi treated me like family, and no one was hurt. But Centorea remained...

The sound of Papi gasping at my side jolted me from my thoughts. "Are you playing video games?" "Papi loves playing video games!"

"I love them, too. They help me relax and unwind." I smiled at her.

"Please let me play with you!" Papi begged, crossing her legs and reaching for an unused Wii controller.

Kuruso interrupted my thoughts. "Can I borrow Bando-san for a minute, Papi? I need a minute to talk with you," he asked before turning to me.

"That's fine, boss!" Papi replied with a faint blush.

I quirked an eyebrow, surprised he'd even interjected initially, but I went along with it. He rarely imposes himself on others, so whatever it was, it had to be important to him. I followed him without complaint, passing by Miia and Centorea. As I walked by her, the former looked cheerful enough and joined Papi on the couch, but the latter shuffled uneasily where she stood.

Rather than taking the awkwardness any longer, I stopped by her. "Hi, is everything all right?" I asked in a hushed voice. "If it's about yesterday..."

"Yes," Centorea responded, looking at me half-heartedly. "Don't worry; I'm not mad at you. I'm just," she hesitated, rubbing at her arms. "... Disquiet. Perhaps we can discuss this further?"

I nodded. Figuring there wasn't much else to say, I joined Kuruso, who had waited patiently by the doorway. We walked into the hallway and stopped once we had some privacy.

Curious, I asked Kuruso, "What's up, buttercup?" He looked at me dumbfounded.

"Hmm, 'buttercup'?"

"Forget I said that. Anyway, what would you like?" I sighed and waved my hand dismissively.

I was caught off guard as Kuruso cleared his throat and bowed. "Thank you so much!" he said.

Ooookay.

"I'm not sure why you're thanking me."

When he rose to look at me, he explained, "For taking care of the girls while I was unable to." It seemed, for some reason, that his eyes, customarily lidded or drained, were sharper. Or at least more focused. "I froze last night, and it likely wouldn't have ended well if you hadn't kept the girls busy when you did. Luckily, when alone, I could sort out my feelings and answer them satisfactorily. I... thank you for it."

The blush on my face was not caused by embarrassment; it was heartfelt gratitude I had not expected from anyone. I cannot lie; it felt good to be appreciated.

Trying to sound nonchalant, I said, "you deserved a break after all the crap you deal with," but my voice was rough. "Anyone else would have done the same thing."

Though he kept his laughter subdued, Kuruso said, "I don't think many people would help a stranger deal with hosting three liminals that are prone to get carried away."

Then I conceded. "Maybe you're right," I said. "I'm not sure what to say."

"Generally, people say 'thank you,'" he said with a smile.

Laughing, I said, "You're welcome, Kuruso-san." He had his moments, didn't he?

I narrowed my eyes at him and asked, "What's so funny?" He put his hand over his mouth and looked like he was suppressing a laugh.

"No, it's just the nickname," he replied, "I expected a little more creativity from a nickname, honestly."

"What?"

"You'd think a little kid would come up with something like switching out the last letter of Kurusu." he giggled.

...

Could it be that I've been...?

"Your family name isn't Kuruso?" I began, doubting myself more than ever.

"Not!" he replied lightly before his smile faded, and he stared blankly at me. "Wait, you made a mistake about my family name?"

"Uhhhhh..."

Having to remind myself that he was Kurusu, I heard him groan and palmed his face. "I'm getting the impression that no one in this house knows my name anymore," he complained.

It wasn't my fault that he'd been referred to as Darling, Boss, and Masters all the time. I felt terrible now, but it wasn't my fault that his name was so forgettable!

It's still pretty shitty to forget the name of your host family. Like it or not, I did it.

"Please forgive me," I sincerely apologized, "I must have misread your file on the way here, and nobody corrected me until you said something."

"As I said, I just assumed it was a nickname," Kurusu explained, sounding downbeat, "But don't worry about it. It's not something that comes up with many people." He chuckled, but it was easy to detect the undercurrent of self-deprecation underneath.

"Still, though," I insisted. "Don't worry about paying me back for last night. We should get some beers sometime soon; I feel like I haven't hung out with you that much."

"If that's what you want. I am a bit of a lightweight, I'm afraid..." Kurusu shrugged; surprisingly, none of his previously-gloomy attitudes had remained.

It's okay; I can't ride shotgun all night either," I told him. As we walked back into the living room, we heard screeching tires and shrieking girls echoing down the hallway (mainly Miia, it seemed) echoing into our ears. "All that means is that our bill will be cheaper at night's end!"

Kurusu agreed. We entered the living room to find the three girls furiously competing in Mario Kart. Centorea and Papi were neck-and-neck for the lead, but Miia was falling behind...

In frustration, she swerved her wheel-shaped controller wildly, causing Princess Peach to crash or fall off the edge at every turn as if she did not understand. "Why. Won't! She! Turn?!" she cried.

As we watched the spectacle unfold like a train wreck, Kurusu and I were morbidly fascinated. In the end, Centorea secured victory, Papi was hot on her heels, and Miia's slow crawl to the finish line was almost depressing. The world's smallest violin should accompany her pitiful performance.

The lamia stewed in her shameful display while Papi waved gleefully. "Hey Boss, big brother! Play with us! We're having fun here!" she exclaimed.

"I disagree," grumbled Miia. A sore loser whenever it came to games, it seemed. I had certainly seen this type before.

There was a cocky winner when it came to games, another type I was all too familiar with, standing where she stood, hands on hips, holding a winning pose.

They reminded me of home when I saw them like that.

"Fine, why not?" I replied with a smile, already making my way over.

"I'm sorry, but I have to start dinner soon, Papi." Kurusu apologized, "I'll play afterward, I promise!"

Although she sounded disappointed, she chirped "Okay!" in response and received me on her couch. "Look, big brother, my driver is Birdo!" she said.

As I turned the controller on, my gentle correction clarified, "Birdo is a dinosaur, and he's a guy."

"Oh, I see," Papi nodded, though I doubted she fully understood. "But dinosaurs and birds are related, right? So he's still like me." she declared proudly.

The little harpy could be sharp at the most unexpected of times. "He sure is! Anyway, let's get started."

As Miia whimpered, "I don't want to play anymore," she said. "Romance Master is a pro and would beat me too!"

Despite her recent win, Centorea lectured, "you will only overcome your challenges through hard work and a positive attitude!"

In my attempt to assure her, I said, "I'm far from a pro." "But you have trouble turning, right?"

I have tried everything, but it never works." she said with a sulky expression.

In a game like this, it's not about how fast you turn, but how you adjust and time it." I demonstrated, raising my wheel to show her.

In the rest of the time before dinner, I spent less time racing and more time teaching Miia, who proved to be a focused student once she got her act together. As long as Miia and I did not pose a threat, Papi and Centorea would leave Miia and me alone. When Kurusu announced dinner was ready, Miia seemed more confident and pleased with her progress, which was fine with me.

Having helped her with Mario Kart brought back fond memories.

To be continued...