Mum hugged him two steps in the doorway and Saguru grabbed on to the coatrack as she almost overbalanced him.

"Saguru! You barely call, and you haven't visited since you moved into your flat! You're going to turn my hair white!"

"Hello, Mum," Saguru sighed, patting her on the back. Her hair had new highlights in it covering up the gray. Whatever new shampoo she was trying tickled his nose with some floral scent or another. His father was behind her, off to the side, still in the main part of the hallway. Saguru nodded at him and got a nod in return.

Mum pulled back from the hug to look him over, frowning. "Your shirt's not pressed. And you're too thin, are you eating enough?"

"I am eating three meals a day," Saguru said patiently. It wasn't a lie. Just…sometimes his meal consisted of half an egg sandwich because he was too tired to bother with something more substantial. "And I don't have an iron. I keep meaning to get one…"

"You should have said something!" Mom said. "You always preferred to be so exact."

Her frown said she was wondering if he was backsliding into the lowest pits of his depression. Saguru dredged up a smile to dispel it. "I'll add it to the list."

"Better yet, I can send you back with one." Mum smiled. "I'm sure we have more than one to spare."

He could protest, but it wouldn't matter if he did. If Mum decided, that was what would happen. Saguru took off his shoes and hesitated a half moment over guest slippers—it was no longer his home but…

Mum didn't seem to notice the hesitation because she pulled him toward his father. "You're just in time for supper," she said, like it was a coincidence instead of planned that way. But that was Mum. Pulling strings, then acting like she hadn't. It made Saguru smile a bit anyway. He had missed her.

Saguru nodded to his father again as he fell into step alongside Mum.

"How has work been?" Otou-san asked. Only natural that he asked first, career talk was less likely to verge into deep emotional waters.

"I had my home visits and somehow managed to survive them," Saguru joked.

Mum rolled her eyes. "Children aren't wild animals."

"No, not ordinarily. Their parents on the other hand…"

Mum smacked his shoulder lightly, smiling. Even her eyes were smiling, making the fine wrinkles around them deeper. "I'm sure they were perfectly polite."

"Oh, they were. They were even more polite showing me the door after I pointed out things that their children needed to improve on."

Mum laughed and Saguru felt warm. This back and forth was familiar, him and Mum's, what he spent most of his life with. He glanced at his father and found him smiling a little too. Something in him relaxed. Even as an adult, Saguru sometimes had trouble determining how his father felt toward him at any given moment.

"The home visits went fine," Saguru continued more seriously. "It was all the transportation they required that was tiring."

"We could have lent you the car," Mum admonished.

"I no longer have an international driver's license," Saguru pointed out. "It's over and done with anyway."

Mum gave him the Look that said she'd remember his stupidity and use it against him later. Saguru could live with that.

There were new paintings on the walls, floral ones from artists he didn't recognize. A lot had changed since Mum moved in a few years back. There were plants now, ferns and potted trees, and temperamental flowers tucked away in alcoves and on shelves. Every now and again was a photograph, some of Saguru when he was younger, some of Mum and her friends. There was a new one of her and Otou-san above a decorative vase outside the library, taken at a forest. They looked happy. They'd been happier without a globe separating them even though they had been content enough almost two decades apart. It was good to see them happy.

Saguru wondered how Otou-san had handled all the change though. He'd never redecorated in all the years Saguru had lived in Japan or any of the times he visited. The changes hadn't been brought up in the week Saguru was there before he moved into his new apartment. It was a bit sad that the home he had lived in with Mum had been sold off. It left him with even less incentive to ever return to England.

Mum led him to the family dining room off the kitchen instead of the more formal one. He had been wondering. She'd had supper in the formal room when he flew into Japan to, 'celebrate being home.' She could get carried away when she was caught up with enthusiasm.

"I took the time to make a proper supper," Mum said. "A roast and mash. Some veg on the side and parkin for dessert."

"I imagine some of the ingredients had to be difficult to find." Last Saguru knew, they didn't sell golden syrup or treacle in Japan, even in specialty stores.

"It was no trouble," Mum said with a wave of her hand. "It's worth it to have something I grew up on every once in a while."

Otou-san suppressed something that sounded a lot like a laugh, but when Saguru looked he was straight faced. Of course.

"You cook at least half the meals on days that you don't have the housekeeper here," Saguru pointed out. "I imagine you indulge in familiar foods frequently."

"Yes, but you don't," Mum said. "And after I went to the trouble to make your favorite dessert."

"I appreciate your effort, Mum," Saguru said sincerely. The parkin would be Grandmum's recipe—heavy on the treacle and ginger for a sticky, spicy, mildly sweet cake.

"You'd better," she laughed.

The table was already set, with hotplates set down for the main dishes. Saguru felt a wave of nostalgia for when he was younger, coming home on one of Mum's days off when she'd take time to have a sit down supper for the two of them.

"Sit," Mum said to Saguru and his father. "What would you like to drink?" she asked heading toward the kitchen.

"Water is fine," Saguru said firmly. She would be bringing out red wine to go with the meat for her and his father from the looks of the glasses. Saguru was still staying away from alcohol. He eased himself into one of the chairs, feeling how Otou-san's gaze sharpened on him. He wasn't doing any worse than when he had arrived in Japan. In fact, on a daily basis his mental state tended to be better to the point where his knee bothered him less.

"You have been using that leg too much." Otou-san said.

"Home visits are over for the year, so I shouldn't have to do quite that amount of walking in the near future."

"It is only going to get worse with age. You should look into your options."

An old argument. One that was brought up at least every other visit. Saguru shook his head. "I am well aware of my options and how it is likely to continue deteriorating. If it ever comes to the point where walking is no longer an option, I'll take one of them."

"Sometimes you're stubborn about all the wrong things," Otou-san commented mildly, but he dropped the topic when Mum returned with a pitcher of water and a bottle of wine.

"It's a Bordeaux," Mum said when Otou-san took the bottle. "Médoc."

He poured her and himself a glass with a small smile while Mum returned to the kitchen for the food. Saguru poured himself water and passed the pitcher to his father to fill the water glasses alongside the wine glasses.

"She has been planning this dinner all week," Otou-san confided. "You have been missed."

Saguru smoothed a hand over the cloth napkin next to his plate. "I called," he said softly.

Otou-san sighed. "And that is appreciated. She worries. We both do," he added bluntly, and then the conversation was tucked away again as Mum returned with a heavy crock with a beef roast with carrots and cabbage in one hand and a bowl of thick mashed potatoes in the other. She had to have timed this to the minute because the potatoes were still steaming with a pat of butter melting rivulets of yellow into a pool at its center.

"Just the gravy yet," Mum said, plopping the dishes onto their hotplates.

"You're trying to fatten me up," Saguru said.

Mum snorted. "You need to get some weight back on you. This will stick to your ribs."

Saguru smiled as Otou-san started cutting thick slices into the roast. Mum brought back the pitcher of gravy and gave Saguru a look.

"Well?"

Saguru reached for the potatoes with a murmur of "Itadakimasu," under his breath.

It tasted like Grandmum's cooking, warm and hearty and simple that equated to Mum's comfort food, and to an extent Saguru's own comfort food. Meat and potatoes did stick in ways that cup noodles or rice didn't. The meal passed cordially, exchanging updates on work and health—Saguru skimmed over the lack of sleep and the emotional outcomes of interacting with Aoko—and on to how acquaintances and extended family were doing.

All in all, Saguru was feeling quite peaceful when Mum suggested moving from the dining room to the living room for dessert. It was a false sense of security as, when they took dishes to the kitchen and Mum dug out the tin of cake, she had a firm set to her smile that meant business. Otou-san took one look and declared he was going to have to decline dessert and would be retiring to the study. Saguru wished he had a believable excuse.

"You take the tin," Mum said, going for a kettle she'd left on low on the stove while they ate. "I'll get the tea."

Saguru set the last of the dirty dishes in the sink and took the tin. He knew when he was outmaneuvered.

Mum chose the cheery periwinkle-covered teapot Mel and Saguru had picked out for her fiftieth birthday to put the tea in. If that wasn't an indication where she intended to take the conversation, Saguru wasn't sure what was.

"Stop looking so grim," Mum said, patting his shoulder as she put cups on a tray with the teapot. "Do you still take milk with your black tea?"

"Not lately."

"Then we can do without." She gathered the tray up and led the way.

The living room had more plants than any room so far. Areca palms toward the window framing a large ficus, with a peace lily set on a stand that used to hold a lamp. There was an ivy plant draping tendrils down from one of the wall shelves and a glass terrarium of moss on the bookshelf in place of a bookend. There were other points in the room that had been rearranged where Saguru could picture Mum putting vases of fresh flowers once they were in season.

"It's much nicer this way, isn't it?" Mum said, noticing him looking. "Leaving off those heavy curtains that were in here before and adding a few plants livens up the room. I really should send you back with a plant. I just repotted a few philodendron shoots that were crowding the pot. You can take one of them if you'd like."

"I'll think about it." There was room on his desk for a plant when he wasn't trying to eat and grade papers at it at the same time. A plant would be a nice addition and make the apartment feel a bit less Spartan.

"Good. I'll show you some pots later and you can pick one you like."

Of course she would consider that a yes. Saguru sighed. It basically was a yes. He set the tin on the coffee table and Mum poured them tea.

"We need to talk," Mum said in English, opening up the tin and unwrapping the parkin. It was just the right amount of sticky, likely having been baked almost a week ago when he arranged this visit.

"Must we?" Saguru sighed in the same language, sitting back on one of the couches with a piece of the cake in one hand and his teacup in the other. The cake was perfectly spiced. Ginger and dark molasses-like flavor spread across his tongue and he felt mild resentment that the enjoyment was spoiled by rising tension.

"Of course we do, love. We moved you in to your flat halfway through March, and here it is two days from May and you've called two times and answered your phone only another four times. You're falling into avoidance patterns."

"I'm still talking," Saguru pointed out mulishly. "And I have called. That is an improvement."

"Yes, compared to the complete lack of contact for more than a month after Meallán died." Mum used Mel's name without mercy, pinning him in his seat with the weight of her stare. "If I hadn't flown out to check on you, I imagine we wouldn't be having this conversation."

Saguru's shoulders lifted toward his ears. No one could make him feel quite as guilty as his mother. "I am doing better, Mum."

"Oh, I can tell you are. But if you're not careful you'll fall back into another rut and I don't want to see you wallowing in depression." Mum sipped at her tea, looking at the tin of parkin with a small frown. "When we speak to each other, you talk about your work and students, or chores. Do you even speak to anyone outside of work? I know it has been more than a decade since you were in Japan for any length of time, but you still have acquaintances here who ask after you. It wouldn't be hard to rekindle old friendships."

"I've never had many friends," Saguru said. "As you have said, they are acquaintances at best."

Mum made an impatient noise in the back of her throat. "You know full well what I mean. You need to interact. For God's sake it took you a month to agree to visit me and I'm your mother. I'm worried."

Saguru hid behind his tea and cake for a moment as Mum's glower sharpened. "I do speak regularly to my neighbor," Saguru allowed.

"How regularly is regular?"

"Usually once every other day, sometimes more," Saguru said. "Although if our schedules don't allow for it we may go a few days." He didn't mention that Kuroba had a tendency to leave a note if he couldn't talk.

Mum raised an eyebrow. "Well, that is regular. What is this neighbor's name?"

"Kuroba Kaito. He was a classmate during the year I spent in Japan."

"Wasn't he that boy you used to stalk?" Mum asked, sipping her tea.

Saguru sputtered, almost spilling tea down his front. "Mother!" He set his teacup down before he actually did splash himself and scowled. "I didn't stalk him!"

"Saguru, love, you used police resources to find out the boy's address and phone number." Mum took a pointed sip of tea. "It was stalking."

"He was my number one suspect for Kaitou Kid!"

"It was around then that I started cottoning on that you were going to be a 'confirmed bachelor,'" Mum said.

Saguru rolled his eyes. "I was caught up in a case, not in Kuroba."

"Of course. That's why you mentioned him as often as you mentioned Kid in those months."

"We are not arguing over whether or not I had an interest in Kuroba."

"You even remove honorifics."

"Because we loathed each other, Mum." Saguru grabbed another slice of cake. He needed more sugar for this.

"Well it's not loathing anymore and you still call him that," Mum reasoned.

"Out of habit. Please stop."

"I'm being supportive."

"Be supportive some other way."

Mum laughed. Saguru almost smiled. Almost. He was a bit irritated with her though. "Well, I'm glad you're making a friend at any rate. Although I had hoped you would be friendly with someone who would lure you out of that box of a flat."

Saguru almost snorted. A decade and a half ago—no, maybe even a decade ago—he would have been lured anywhere by Kuroba's mystery. He had just given up on trying to dig into Kuroba's life in the interim. "I have only been in Japan a little more than a month, Mum. And work has come first in that time."

"Well you should make time." She bent forward to refresh their tea and took a slice of parkin for herself. "Go places. Make new friends. Meet people. Sitting staring at the same four walls isn't going to help you move on." She said it gentler than most of her words had been so far, but it still made him flinch a little.

Saguru had several replies flash through his head, "I'm not ready to move on" and "I don't know if I can, I've just managed to run away," and, "If it were simple, I would," but he didn't say any of them. Some days he wished he could let go because it hurt too much sometimes, but then he'd feel horrified because it felt like forgetting and he didn't want to forget. Saguru set down the remnants of his second slice of cake, no longer hungry, and picked up the tea for its warmth instead. "I know," he said finally.

Mum looked at him a long moment and sighed. "I'm not asking you to date again. I would never ask that. I'm just worried you'll be like you were in London, existing instead of living."

"I know." Saguru inhaled the faint wisps of steam from his cup. "I don't want to be there again either."

Mum nodded. The coffee table between them felt like half a world between them for a moment, that gulf that had separated them when she moved to Japan. "Promise me something," Mum said. "Promise me you'll make the effort to go somewhere or do something not work related at least once a week. Grocery shopping doesn't count."

"I…"

"And getting takeaway doesn't count either! It won't hurt to sit in at a restaurant for once." Mum sighed again. "I do remember your university years, love. You were too distracted to cook, but too lazy to go out and that has never much changed over the years."

"I cook," Saguru said in automatic defense.

"Of course," Mum said, looking doubtful about what he might consider cooking. "Promise me, Saguru."

"I promise," Saguru said. He was promising to make an effort. To try. The past month had been so busy, but he knew he could have accepted the offer to go out with coworkers or have gone to a bookstore or somewhere that he enjoyed instead of heading straight for his apartment. He enjoyed speaking to Kuroba, but he could have asked if Kuroba was interested in getting dinner or have gotten in touch with someone from Grandfather's labs who he used to keep correspondence with. It had been easier not to. To turn down offers and hide away, and to take what Kuroba gave without pursuing or giving more in return. Yes, he had made the effort in his work. But he knew that soon it would just be another excuse like Mum was pointing out.

Sometimes Mum knew him better than he knew himself.

"Thank you," Mum said. "I know it's hard for you, especially right now as it's close to..." She trailed off as Saguru tensed up, looking sad. Sad for him and sad for what they'd lost over the last year. Mum sighed and dredged up a smile. "Now, I promise not to bother you about any of that the rest of your time here. Although, I think I'd like to meet this Kuroba Kaito. If he's managed to catch your interest as a teen and get you to start opening up again now…"

"Mum." Saguru frowned.

"I mean as a friend, Saguru, honestly." She blinked at him, for all the world innocent.

Saguru didn't buy it for a second. "If we've moved to actually calling each other friends in a month, I'll let you know."

"Deal," Mum said with a smirk. "Now finish your dessert so we can go collect your father now that all the touchy feely interrogations are over."

"It never ceases to amaze me that he is the one who went into law enforcement rather than you."

"Yes, well, while he was picking criminal's brains apart, I was putting people back together. Arguably, I'd say I had the harder job of it."

Saguru didn't disagree. He'd always found people baffling on some level and found solving crime preferable because evidence tended to add up in straightforward and logically achievable conclusions where the motives were a bit harder to comprehend. He had learned psychology from Mum and Otou-san both, but he'd always preferred Grandfather's labs with their quantifiable results. That was why chemistry had been his focal subject in the end.

"I love you," Mum said when they finished off the tea and packed the remaining squares of parkin away. "I don't say it enough, but I'm proud that you're getting better. I'm proud that you're trying."

Saguru shut the tin a little harder than was needed.

"Thank you," he said since Mum was waiting for a response. "Shall we get Otou-san and let him have his share of dessert?"

Mum laughed. "Yes, he's been eying that tin all week."

"You kept him from sneaking any? I'm astonished."

"He wouldn't have dared." Mum squeezed Saguru's shoulder as she passed. "I'll meet you in the study." She smiled. "Tomorrow, would you be interested to see how your grandfather's labs have changed? I know he isn't in charge of them anymore, but I'm sure you'd still be welcome."

"I'll consider it."

"I'll take that as a yes," Mum said.

Saguru rolled his eyes but he was smiling again. It was enough.

*o*o*

Being home had been strange in a good way. Saguru didn't fit into his parents' life as he used to, nor did he have the same pastimes to distract himself as he had before. Then again, neither did Mum or Otou-san with both of them retired. They had gone to visit the lab as Mum suggested—run by a second cousin now, with equipment that made Saguru itch to fall back into the once familiar realm of chemistry and equations and bury himself in the new possibilities these technological advancements meant. There were methods that would have cut his old lab work time in half with almost twice the accuracy and a good deal less effort.

From there, they'd spent a quiet evening in, enjoying each other's company while they read in the living room. Quiet companionship had been something he'd missed in recent months; just coexisting in a space with another person was something that felt right.

Contrary to what Mum had said, Mel had been brought up again, but Saguru hadn't been left with a bitter feeling in his heart. The third evening there, Mum had cooked again, this time curry and rice, and she had stopped halfway through passing around the rice to stare at her plate.

"I made curry when you first introduced Mel as your boyfriend to your father," she said.

It was the same curry sauce, bought in a jar whenever she could get it from England, and chicken, like she had made then. They'd decided on curry because it was something they could all agree on, and Saguru had been tense all day so that Mel had joked that Saguru was more nervous than he was. Mum had picked Otou-san up from the airport a little before lunch and given Saguru and Mel time to calm each other down.

Mum had been close to Mel. They had senses of humor that meshed well and would go to the theatre with or without Saguru tagging along.

Mum passed the rice to Saguru and took up her fork. "I miss him as well," she had said then. "He was like another son."

And Saguru realized he wasn't the only one having trouble moving on. Mum had grieved with him when she found out. Otou-san had grieved in a less intimate way—he hadn't known Mel near as well as Mum and it was due to Saguru not visiting him in Japan near enough as he got older—but they had all grieved. Saguru just hadn't considered that it would still linger with Mum the way it was never too far from his mind.

Dinner had continued from there without any comment on her statement, but later Saguru had pulled out photos of him and Mel that they'd kept in a shoe box even though Mel always said he'd get an album to put them in. Saguru took the box to Mum and for a few hours they flipped through pictures and remembered Mel as he was and the smiles he'd brought them. It felt cathartic.

Saguru took the shoebox back with him when he returned to the apartment.

*o*o*

"How was your Golden Week?" Kuroba asked when Saguru on the last day of Golden Week, inviting Saguru into his home with the promise of chimaki, kashiwamochi, and a game of chess.

Saguru considered the chess board set on the kitchen table between them and made his move before answering. "It was nice. I visited Grandfather's labs—er, I suppose they are my cousin Hirakichi-san's labs now—and assisted Mum with her plants. Otou-san spent a good deal of time catching me up on the outcomes of old cases I noticed in the papers. I was impressed at how many Kudo Shinichi was involved in. I hadn't been aware of how much of a big name he has become since high school. He already had a respectable record at the time."

Kuroba snorted and moved a piece. "He's a case magnet. Most detectives have to seek that sort of thing out or set up shop so cases come to them, but I swear he stumbles into every murder that happens in the Tokyo area sometimes."

Saguru took in the fondness in Kuroba's expression. "He regularly attends Kid heists does he not?"

"Sometimes." Kuroba shrugged. "He is the eternal critic, I swear."

"He's also one of the few detectives on record for having shot at Kid."

"Yeah, well, Nakamori did once too." Kuroba winced. "He's changed a lot since then though. Had a few near death experiences or twenty. You might remember that he was in the news after putting away a crime syndicate a little after we graduated."

"Ah, yes." Saguru frowned. "I'd forgotten about that." He moved a knight forward.

"He's lucky to be alive."

"As are you," Saguru said seriously, "since you seem to be attempting something similar."

"I'd rather not talk about that." Kuroba cut off Saguru's approach with a bishop. "There's so many better things to talk about. Like how it's Kudo's birthday and I left him a puzzle that should distract him long enough for him to realize it's his birthday."

"One would think he would remember details like that."

"He's terrible about remembering things in his own life. His wife is lucky he remembers their wedding anniversary."

Saguru smiled. "And how was your Golden Week, Kuroba?"

"Great." Kuroba snuck a piece of chimaki, the sticky rice oozing red bean filling onto its bamboo leaf wrap. "Visiting Kaa-san went fine, and I had a good time with Takumi. He wanted to work on some of his sleight of hand, so we spent almost all of Saturday working on concealing things and misdirection. He picks it up fast considering he doesn't practice near as often as he should be to keep his skills sharp."

"Unlike you who practices constantly."

"Exactly." Kuroba popped one of the mochi in his mouth—one that Saguru realized was from Saguru's plate instead of Kuroba's. And two of the chess pieces were swapped around.

"Must you?" Saguru sighed, returning the pieces to their proper positions.

"Why Hakuba, would I really do something so horrible as cheat at a game of logic?"

"Yes," Saguru said. "Constantly. In fact, I think it could be argued that every time you don your alter ego you are doing just that."

Kuroba grinned. "Your trust in me is so fragile. How sad."

Saguru snorted. Oddly enough, he trusted Kuroba more than he would some of his friends in London. "I trust you to be as unpredictable as you can manage," he said.

"Ah, but that would be predictable," Kuroba said with a deep nod. "So I guess I have to be predictable sometimes to throw you off."

"How likely is it that Takumi-kun is going to use those skills he worked at on me as soon as classes start up again?"

Kuroba wiggled a hand. "Fifty-fifty. He asked about you a couple of times, mostly what you were like for a neighbor. It wasn't antagonistic though, so he might be warming up to you."

"Lovely. I'll just have to find out then." If he'd worked on concealing things—and Takumi seemed to be decent at this already—then it was likely concealing and revealing larger or awkward things, so Saguru would have to be prepared for something unavoidable. Worse come to worst, Saguru would assign him extra homework again.

"If he gives you too much trouble…"

"I'll tell you," Saguru said calmly. He moved a chess piece. The board was becoming a tangle. There were several dozen moves he could see panning out along the board, but it was too soon to have a feel for who was winning. "Mum worries that I don't socialize," Saguru said conversationally.

"Oh?"

"I believe that she might want to meet you as you are the only person I seem to talk to regularly of late."

Kuroba shifted a bishop, threatening one of Saguru's knights. It was sacrifice the knight or potentially lose his queen next move. "Should I be afraid that your mother is interested in meeting me?"

Should he be? Considering her comments about stalking, Saguru thought it was probably him that should be afraid. "I suppose that depends on what you would consider alarming."

"How much like you is she?"

"Focused, perceptive, and rather nosey."

"So a lot like you." Kuroba grinned as Saguru rolled his eyes.

"And I'm sure you don't resemble your mother in the slightest."

"Point." They moved pieces around, taking bites of their dessert.

"I wouldn't mind meeting your mom," Kuroba said after a while. He ran his finger over a pawn contemplatively.

"In that case, I'll inform her that you are amenable to the idea," Saguru said. "I'll be gracious enough not to mention your difficulty with caring for house plants. She'd likely want to rescue yours."

"It's doing better," Kuroba said. "There's no need to rescue it."

A glance confirmed that the plant was in actuality doing better. There were glossy new leaves peeking from its top, and the dead ones had been discarded. Kuroba must have been reading up on proper plant care, or else experimenting on meeting its needs better. "It's actually starting to look healthy."

"I can learn how to take care of a plant," Kuroba said drily.

"And yet it took me noticing it to save it from its plight."

Kuroba snorted. Saguru smirked. This was nice. Comfortable. It felt like they had been friends for years instead of acquaintances and occasional not-quite-enemies. He supposed 'rival' could work, although it didn't quite fit as they weren't striving toward the same goal. Enemies felt too harsh a term for their relationship in the past though.

"Check," Saguru said, moving his knight.

Kuroba smiled predatorily and moved his queen. "Check and Mate, Hakuba."

Saguru looked back at the board, recalculating and winced. "Well, I feel foolish."

"It wasn't like we were giving it our whole attention," Kuroba said, tidying up the pieces. He paused. "Another game or…?"

It was tempting to stay longer and enjoy more of Kuroba's excellent tea and continually surprisingly welcome company, but it was getting late, and he had a few things to put in order before he had class in the morning. "I should probably be going," Saguru said.

Kuroba summoned up a box from somewhere, fitting the chess pieces back into little foam slots. "That's fine. It was a good game. We should play seriously some time."

"Kuroba, if I played you seriously in any game, it would likely lead to animosity," Saguru said with some humor. He knew that he would end up feeling too competitive for the sort of friendship they were developing. He was long past the point where he wanted to feel the mixture of adrenaline and aggression aimed at Kuroba. Aggression was something he didn't have the energy to spare for much these days, but he knew that if Kuroba wanted, he could draw it out of him.

"Well then we'll just have to find something else to do." Kuroba smiled like this was not a difficult task to accomplish. Saguru wondered what on earth he would come up with. All things considered, their conversations and interactions had gone smoother than Saguru could have ever expected considering their shared history.

"Thank you for the tea and snacks," Saguru said.

Kuroba grinned. "Eh, you're not bad company. A lot better than when we were in high school."

Saguru snorted. "Thank goodness for gaining maturity. You are also more tolerable."

"Only tolerable?" Kuroba teased.

"Oh, just a bit."

Kuroba laughed. "And to think I used to think you didn't have a sense of humor."

"To be fair, we both tended to take our sense of humor out at each other's expense."

"True." The chess set disappeared, and Kuroba gathered up the tea and sweets. "Thanks for the company."

"It's enjoyable," Saguru said. He wanted to say "Anytime," but it still felt too soon. Talking to Mum had made him stop and realize just how quickly his life had rearranged itself with Kuroba in it as a friend. Saguru felt like he should be at least a bit more alarmed by this than he was. Instead it was a relief, and something he looked at with gratitude. Though he supposed it was the same for Kuroba since he didn't seem to have anyone to socialize with much either. He wanted to ask if they were friends now in truth, but he didn't. It would be acknowledging that loneliness that had allowed Kuroba to slip so seamlessly into his life.

Saguru stood, grabbing his cane where he had let it rest against the side table. "Have a good evening, Kuroba."

"You too."

It was a moment he could have reached out like Mum wanted, invite Kuroba to something instead of Kuroba being the one to reach out first, but Saguru hesitated and the moment passed. He left Kuroba's apartment and returned to his own with its pile of graded papers on the desk and the new potted plant Mum had sent home with him, and the washed tea mug in the dish drainer. Next time, Saguru resolved. Next time he would extend an offer. Perhaps to eat out as that would satisfy both of Mum's challenges; getting out of his apartment and to socialize.

Saguru touched the leaves of his new philodendron. It really did make the space feel more like a home than a place to exist in. Perhaps he would accept a few more plants from Mum in the future. The green brightened the drab space. That was another goal, he supposed. Make his living space more personal and welcoming. He added it to his mental list of goals, ones he didn't have a set date to complete, but that he knew would help his mental state if he put the effort into them.

Saguru went through his evening routine with an absent smile on his face.