….
"Ara." came a familiar voice. "What an enthusiastic greeting committee."
Yukino stood in the doorway, shopping bags in hand, with Hiratsuka Shizuka beside her carrying what appeared to be enough takeout containers to feed a small army.
"Mama!" The little girl launched herself at Yukino's legs.
Yukino set down her bags with practiced efficiency and scooped up her daughter in one smooth motion. "Hello, sweetheart. Were you good while I was gone?"
"Mmhm! I protected Papa from the doorbell!"
"I see, and how exactly did you do that?"
"I covered his ears so the sound couldn't get in!"
Yukino's gaze shifted to Hachiman, who had appeared in the hallway. Her expression was perfectly neutral, but he could read the question there: Really?
He shrugged. I was asleep.
"Yo, Hikigaya." Hiratsuka said, pushing past them into the house. "Still alive, I see. That's disappointing."
"Sensei. Always a pleasure."
"Again, don't call me that anymore. I am not your teacher."
"Old habits."
She snorted and made her way to the kitchen, setting down the takeout with a heavy thunk. "Ryo! Didn't know you would be here. Good, more people to witness Hikigaya's continued mediocrity."
"He has been very mediocre today." Ryota confirmed. "Peak performance, really."
Yukino entered the living room, still holding her daughter, and immediately spotted her son on the floor surrounded by papers. Her expression shifted - not quite concerned, but something close to it.
"You have been working on something." she observed.
The boy looked up. "Essay. Almost done."
Yukino set down her daughter and walked over to her son's workspace.
The adults gradually migrated to the living room, arranging themselves on furniture while the children continued their activities - one building, one writing, both completely absorbed.
Hiratsuka ended up on the armchair, Ryota claimed one end of the couch, and Hachiman returned to his usual spot. Yukino stood for a moment, reading over her son's shoulder, her expression unreadable.
Yukino said carefully. "May I read it?"
He gathered the papers and handed them over, then immediately returned to his sister's cushion tower project.
However, Hiratsuka grabbed it before Yukino could take it. "You know what, let me fool-proof this first. I have got a bad feeling about this..."
"Alright…." Yukino didn't mind.
….
Hiratsuka's eyes moved across the pages, her expression shifting from curious to impressed to slightly concerned.
The topic the essay spoke about: preferring usefulness over mere appearances.
It is so annoyingly similar to their parents.
And, when she finished, her hands trembled slightly.
"You wrote this?" She looked at the boy. "By yourself?"
….
If pandas disappeared tomorrow, most ecosystems would continue functioning normally. This isn't an attack - it's an observation. Unlike keystone species such as wolves or bees, pandas don't stabilize their environment. They exist, consume resources, and contribute very little in return.
Their survival isn't about ecology. It's about economics. Every panda belongs to China, and zoos pay approximately one million dollars annually to rent them. Even pandas born in captivity remain Chinese property. This makes pandas less a conservation priority and more a revenue stream.
From a survival perspective, pandas fail at basic requirements. They're bears that chose to eat bamboo - a nutritionally poor food their digestive systems can't properly process. They rarely reproduce naturally, and mothers often abandon one twin when two cubs are born. By evolutionary standards, they should have gone extinct naturally.
Yet people care deeply about pandas because they look appealing. This same investment doesn't extend to species that actually matter. When India lost 95% of its vultures in 2007, rabies cases increased, rat populations exploded, and disease spread from unconsumed carcasses. Few noticed because vultures aren't cute.
Bees face similar neglect. People spray them for being annoying, ignoring that bee extinction would collapse agriculture. They pollinate plants, sustain food chains, and maintain ecosystems. Without them, civilization would fail within years.
The conclusion isn't that pandas don't deserve protection - it's that our priorities are backward. We fund conservation based on aesthetics rather than impact. Perhaps the WWF should replace its panda logo with a bee. At least that would be honest about what actually keeps the world functioning.
That said, Mama keeps a panda toy from Aunt Yui, and she explained that some things matter even without logical justification. Maybe that applies to conservation too.
Maybe we can protect both the essential and the merely beloved. I'm still working on understanding how.
….
Hiratsuka set down the essay and passed it to Yukino.
Yukino read it silently, her expression controlled. When she finished, she handed it to Ryota, who scanned through it before passing it to Hachiman.
Hachiman read his son's work without comment. When he finished, he set it on the coffee table.
The room was quiet.
Ryota shook his head with a laugh. "That's definitely your kid, Hikigaya."
Hiratsuka leaned back. "This reminds me of another essay. About youth. Written by a high school boy who thought he was smarter than everyone else."
Hachiman's eyes twitched. "Well, I am just glad he didn't end it with, 'To conclude: fools who enjoy this thing called youth should go and freaking die.'"
Everyone smiled.
Yukino stood and walked to her son, who was helping his sister with the cushion tower. She knelt down and kissed his forehead.
"You did well."
The boy looked up, smiling. "Thanks, Mama."
She ruffled his hair gently. "Now help your sister before her tower collapses and she blames you for poor engineering."
He returned to his sister immediately.
Ryota picked up the essay again. "Damn, this kid. Hachiman, I think he's gonna beat you in cynicism if this continues."
It was meant as a joke.
Hachiman nodded seriously. "Right. If this continues..."
….
The conversation moved on naturally after that - work stories, complaints about mutual acquaintances, upcoming plans.
No one mentioned the essay again.
They played games.
Card games first, then video games - and unsurprisingly half the games were developed by the duo themselves.
The twins joined in for the simpler ones, their excited voices filling the room.
Ryota won at racing games.
Hiratsuka dominated at fighting games.
Hachiman won at strategy through what Ryota called "boring, methodical bullshit."
Time passed easily.
By nine-thirty, the little girl had fallen asleep under a blanket on the floor.
Her brother sat beside her, quietly working on a Rubik's cube while the adults talked.
Ryota had claimed the couch, snoring softly.
Hiratsuka and Yukino were still conversing, their voices low and comfortable.
"I am going for a walk." Hachiman said, standing.
Both women looked at him.
Yukino glanced at the clock. "Where? It's late."
"Just need some air." He turned to the boy. "Hey, buddy. You are coming with me."
The boy set aside his cube and stood. "Sure, Dad."
"Why are you taking him?" Yukino's tone sharpened slightly.
"Father-son moment. You ladies can keep talking." Hachiman was already putting on his jacket.
Yukino sighed. "Don't take too long."
"We won't."
"Mama, I will be back soon." the boy said, waving.
"Stay close to your father."
The door closed behind them.
….
"He has really grown up." Hiratsuka said, watching the door.
Yukino looked at her sleeping daughter. "Yes."
"The kid's lucky."
"We're both trying." Yukino brushed hair from her daughter's face. "Neither of us wants them to struggle the way we did."
Hiratsuka nodded. "For what it's worth, you are doing fine."
….
Outside, the air was crisp. The streets were quiet, lit by scattered streetlamps.
They walked side by side in silence.
Hachiman thought about his own childhood.
The corner seats.
The library at lunch.
The distance he had maintained because it was safer. He had been smart enough to see through the social games but too stubborn to understand that seeing through something and dismissing it were different.
His daughter would be fine. She had Komachi's warmth.
But his son had inherited the dangerous parts from both parents.
The ability to explain, with perfect logic, why beloved things didn't matter.
The boy already knew why they were here. He was too smart not to.
After a while, Hachiman said quietly. "You know your mom likes pandas, right? Though she still won't admit it."
"Yeah." the boy answered, slightly annoyed.
That small tone made Hachiman chuckle. "What's that? You are jealous, brat?"
The boy frowned, looking away. "No…"
Hachiman laughed again, slow and amused. "You are a terrible liar."
He watched his son for a moment, the same sharp eyes, the same quiet stubbornness.
"You like bees, right?" Hachiman asked.
"Yeah. They are cool."
"So you want your mom to like bees too, not pandas?"
"Huh? Not really." the boy replied, confused.
Hachiman stopped walking, looking down at him with a faint smile. "That's the thing about emotions, son. You love your mom, and she loves you back. She likes pandas, you like bees. You want her to understand that bees are cool too - but you also don't want to hurt her by saying it out loud."
The boy blinked, processing that.
"She won't hate you just because you like something different." Hachiman continued. "Not everything in life needs a reason. Especially not when it comes to people who care about you."
"So… I can just like bees more than pandas, and that's okay?"
"It never was a problem." Hachiman said gently, resting a hand on his son's head. "And it never will be."
The boy nodded slowly, a small, thoughtful smile crossing his face.
They walked on under the pale streetlight, father and son, quiet but connected, sharing the kind of understanding that needed no further words.
….
The night air was cool but not cold, brushing gently against their faces as they walked by.
The little boy's hand swung lazily at his side, his steps syncing with Hachiman's unhurried pace.
They passed a small convenience store still open at that hour, its fluorescent lights cutting through the dark.
Hachiman slowed down, glancing at the window display - snacks, drinks, and a small rack of toys near the counter.
His gaze paused at one particular item.
A small yellow bee plush, with stubby felt wings and a faintly lopsided smile.
"…wait here." Hachiman muttered, stepping inside.
The boy tilted his head, curious, but obeyed.
Within a minute, Hachiman came out, holding a small paper bag. He handed it to his son with an unreadable expression.
The boy peeked inside.
A plush bee stared back at him.
For a moment, his face remained still - and then his lips curled upward, trying to hide the smile that was already breaking through.
"It's… cute." he said softly.
"Yeah." Hachiman replied, pretending to sound bored.
The boy nodded, clutching the little plush tightly to his chest.
By the time they returned home, the lights inside the living room were warm and low.
Hiratsuka is also asleep in the guest room and Ryota is also gone, while Yukino was cleaning up the cups from the table.
She looked up as the door opened.
"Ohh." She said, noticing the toy peeking out from her son's arms. "Someone bought a new toy?"
The boy hesitated for a moment - as if unsure whether to say it was from him or his father.
But Yukino's gentle tone broke through his shyness. He nodded, a small, proud smile appearing on his face before he stepped forward and hugged her waist tightly.
"Mm. It's a bee." he murmured against her.
Yukino looked down at him, one hand brushing through his hair with quiet tenderness.
"It's adorable." she said softly.
Hachiman stood by the door, watching them, his wife and son.
The night outside was quiet.
Inside, it finally felt like home… like almost.
Yukino's smile softened as she looked at the bee plush, then she tilted her head ever so slightly, that usual sharpness creeping back into her calm tone.
"So." she asked. "What did you buy for your sister?"
The boy froze.
His eyes widened, guilt flashing across his face like lightning.
Behind him, Hachiman's expression instantly stiffened.
He raised both hands quickly, waving them in a panic. "She is already asleep, so - no worries, no worries! I will just, uh, buy her something tomorrow, yeah?"
He laughed awkwardly, but his words barely left his mouth when soft footsteps echoed from the hallway.
A tiny figure appeared - their daughter, half-asleep, clutching a large panda plush by one leg. Its head drooped pitifully, the toy's fabric nose dragging against the floor as she trudged closer, eyes barely open.
Hachiman's face darkened.
The boy's face darkened.
Even the bee plush seemed suddenly less confident in his hands.
Yukino turned away, covering her mouth as her shoulders trembled - trying, and failing, not to laugh.
The panda's limp body brushed across the tatami with every step the little girl took, and Hachiman just exhaled in defeat.
I fucked up…
….
.
[To be continued…]
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