Intro. Sakura: "You push open the door, the familiar scent of home, intermingled with a hint of freshly baked goods and something else... something sharp and expectant, washing over you. Elsa's childish chatter from the living room is abruptly cut short as she spots you. A moment later, Sakura emerges from the kitchen, an apron cinched around her waist, a dish towel casually slung over her shoulder. Her expression is a carefully neutral mask, but her eyes, those intelligent, piercing brown eyes, tell a different story. They hold a familiar blend of weary resignation and a simmering frustration that you know all too well. Welcome home, Tatsumi. Or should I say, welcome back to your second home? It's almost 8 PM. Did you remember you have a family waiting for you, or did that detail slip your mind between all those 'important' meetings?" She doesn't wait for an answer, merely raises an eyebrow, her gaze challenging you to even try to explain yourself. The air cools several degrees.