Chapter Text
The rising sun hangs over the sky of Ritou as the ultimate fixer, Thoma, goes about his day. A bundle of fliers are in his left arm, barely pinned to his side by his elbow. In the other hand, there’s a small box of fresh strawberries. As always, he seems to be in a bit of a rush as he struggles to get the attention of folks passing by. Some of them, ignoring his existence completely, while others would gasp, smile, and strike up long conversations with him. Your grandmother, whether fortunately or unfortunately, happens to love talking his ear off, and today of all days, she spots him.
“Back here again, young man? If you keep on working so hard, you might just burn yourself out!” She greets, her tone a mix of scolding and concern. She crosses her arms, but eyes the little case of strawberries in his hand as if she were plotting something – not abnormal for this old lady.
“No ma’am, I’m actually off today!” Thoma replies, smiling brightly. He turns to the older lady. “How have you been? I haven’t seen you around in a while.” Thoma readjusts his fliers that are almost tumbling out of his grasp, making your grandma take notice.
“Housekeeping classes?” She asks, taking her attention off of the oh-so tempting case of strawberries. She squints before snatching at the fliers without warning. With the strength of a very determined bear, the ancient granny grabs one, causing Thoma to sway with them as they threaten to fall from the crook of his elbow.
He laughs, a little surprised. “Oh, yeah, that’s my little passion project. I’m hosting a housekeeping class at the Kamisato estate on Saturday!” He exclaims, and like a kid at a festival, his excitement is written all over his face. He watches a tad amused as the old lady squints at the paper, holding it way too close to her face as she mouths the text on the flier. He asks, “Are you interested in attending one? You know, you’re never too old to learn something new.”
The older woman scoffed, mock offended. “Oh please, I don’t need a housekeeping class! I’m too old for all that, anyways. But…” She pauses to think for a moment, and Thoma could clearly see a scheme brewing in that head of hers. All he could do was watch in amusement as he witnessed the lightbulb go off.
“You know who could really use these classes?” She said, her voice slowly taking on an all too familiar, pre-lecture tone. “My granddaughter…I swear, that little girl can’t do anything for herself. She’s always out, working on this, and working on that, but she can hardly turn on a stove.” The grandma tuts and shakes her head. Thoma tries to contain his laughter, almost failing, at the fact that she calls her adult grandchild a “little girl”.
Thoma smiles, trying to focus on not laughing on the spot. “Ah, then she’s absolutely free to join me on Saturday! The first few classes are free, so maybe that’ll help convince her to stop by.”
“Convince? Oh no, she’s going, alright. Even if I have to drag her there by the ear! She’s gotta learn someday, and I’m not going to spend all my time worrying about her.” The grandma says, rambling on about “responsibility” and “health.”
Thoma nods slowly, a little stunned. Is this sweet old lady really that strict? He doesn’t quite know what to say, but he chuckles after a while, deciding she’s being funny as usual. “I’m sure your granddaughter needs the help, but please don’t overdo it. I need my students to stay motivated.”
The granny laughs with him, again focusing on the basket of strawberries. “She’ll be there. Now, about those strawberries…” she stares expectedly, showing that she’s not willing to give up on taking her fair share. Thoma half expects her to snatch them like she did with the flier, but he knew her better than that.
“Oh dear, I almost forgot! As promised, I brought the strawberries. Straight from the garden, here you go!” Thoma hands her the little container, earning the smile of a very happy grandma.
As she takes them, she smiles. “Oh, what a good boy,” she praises, causing Thoma to smile. “Now hurry up and get inside, the sunsettias I promised you are on the counter.” She shuffles inside, leaving Thoma to follow, wondering how his apparent new student is going to feel about this arrangement.
You arrive home well after dark, exhausted as ever, and chuck off your shoes the moment you step through the door. The sight of your grandmother sitting cryptically by the dining room table awaits you. Before you could stumble over to greet her, you realize that the air feels…different. She’s just sitting there, menacingly. Oh gods, what is she planning this time?
The silence of the room is stifling as you awkwardly ask, “How was your day?”
“You’re home awfully late,” she remarks, one hand placed on a colorful paper that rests on the table. You notice this, your suspicions growing as you begin to understand that you’re about to be roped into something.
“Grandma,” you cautiously say, “What do you have there?” Your voice is quiet as you try to hide your nervousness. Her smirk doesn’t help as she gestures for you to come sit down with her. Nope, your fate is sealed.
When you’re finally sat, she speaks up. “So I was talking to a lovely boy your age earlier today…”
“That guy from the Yashiro commission? What’s his name… Thomas?” You question. Oh god, did she harass this poor guy?
“It’s Thoma, actually. He’s a very sweet boy, you know,” she says, her face clearly implying something, but you can only imagine what it is.
“Grandma, what did I tell you about trying to set me up with people?” You sigh wearily, feeling sympathy for this poor guy.
“No, it’s not at all like that,” she defends, her nose scrunching ever so slightly, a tell-tale sign that she’s lying.
“Uh huh, okay,” you contest, a nervous laugh slipping out. “In that case, what is it then?” You ask, your suspicions never ceasing as your grandma’s smile grows wider.
“You’re joining a housekeeping class.”
“Huh?” You’re absolutely stunned, trying to understand if this was some weird boomer joke. However, knowing your grandma, she’s undeniably serious about forcing you into this. “A…housekeeping class?” You repeat, trying to let your new reality sink in.
“A housekeeping class, hosted by that lovely young man, Thoma. Because you need to learn how to cook without burning water, and you need to learn how to mend your own clothes because one day I won’t be here to-”
“Grandma,” you huff, dragging the word out in frustration, all too used to this conversation.
“What? We all go someday, and you need to learn to do something other than work all day,” she lectures.
“Grandma, we need groceries.”
“And what are you going to cook with your groceries, huh? What if you never learn how to boil water, or you get dust all in your lungs because you forget to clean, or tear a hole in your coat and get frostbite because you can’t fix it? Or even worse, hypothermia? Or if you-”
“No, no, I get it. I’ll go!” you quickly interrupt, trying to stop a possibly endless lecture in its tracks. As soon as you said those magic words, your grandma’s entire demeanor changed as her wicked smile melted into something much sweeter, like a sky clearing up after a brutal storm.
“Good, that’s my baby. The class starts on Saturday at eleven. Don’t be late, now.” Your grandma sounds a little too smug as you accept the brutal reality that you have, in fact, been played.