[45] Impressions and Intentions

I stood in the kitchen, staring at the open fridge. "We could make sukiyaki," I suggested, eyeing the vegetables and meat.

Marin leaned against the counter, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. "Dad's not really into traditional stuff. He's more of a steak and potatoes guy."

I closed the fridge, turning to face her. "Steak, huh? That's pretty basic for a first impression."

"Yeah, but he'd love it," Marin said, her eyes lighting up. "Oh! We could do a fancy surf and turf thing. Steak and lobster!"

I winced. "That's a bit... extravagant, don't you think? We're trying to show we're responsible adults, not that we're blowing money on luxury dinners."

Marin's face fell. "Oh. Right. I guess that is a bit much."

I walked over to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Hey, we'll figure something out. What about pasta? It's simple, but we could make it seem fancy."

"Pasta could work," Marin nodded slowly. "But what kind? Spaghetti's too messy. Lasagna takes forever."

"How about fettuccine alfredo?" I suggested. "Creamy, indulgent, but not too complicated."

Marin's nose wrinkled. "Dad's not big on creamy sauces. He says they upset his stomach."

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "Okay, back to the drawing board. What does your dad actually like to eat?"

Marin thought for a moment. "Well, he loves hamburgers. But that's not really dinner party food."

An idea struck me. "What if we did gourmet sliders? Mini burgers with different toppings. We could do a few varieties - maybe one with blue cheese, one with avocado, one with caramelized onions."

Marin's eyes widened. "That... could actually work. It's kind of fun and casual, but still shows we put in effort."

"Exactly," I nodded, warming to the idea. "We could do some fancy sides too. Maybe truffle fries or a caprese salad."

"Ooh, and we could do milkshakes for dessert!" Marin clapped her hands together. "Dad loves a good milkshake."

I laughed. "Milkshakes it is. So, we're agreed on gourmet sliders?"

Marin nodded enthusiastically. "I think it's perfect. Casual enough that Dad will be comfortable, but still shows we can adult."

"Alright, let's make a shopping list," I said, reaching for a notepad. "We'll need ground beef, different cheeses, burger buns..."

As we jotted down ingredients, Marin suddenly paused. "Wait, what if Dad thinks burgers are too childish? Maybe we should do something more grown-up."

I set down the pen, turning to face her. "Marin, we can't keep second-guessing ourselves. Your dad wants to get to know us, right? So let's show him who we really are. We're young, we're fun, and we make a mean slider."

Marin bit her lip. "You're right. I just... I want this to go well so badly."

I pulled her into a hug. "It will. Your dad loves you, and he's making an effort. That's what matters. The food is just... well, the icing on the milkshake."

Marin groaned at my terrible pun, but I felt her relax in my arms. "Okay, gourmet sliders it is. Let's go shopping."

An hour later, we stood in the middle of the grocery store, staring at an overwhelming array of ground beef options.

"Wagyu or Angus?" I asked, holding up two packages.

Marin squinted at the prices. "Holy crap, that Wagyu costs more than my first cosplay wig. Let's stick with Angus."

I nodded, tossing the Angus beef into our cart. "Good call. What about cheese? I'm thinking we get a variety - cheddar, blue cheese, maybe some gouda?"

"Sounds good," Marin agreed. "Oh, and we need those little slider buns. And don't forget stuff for the milkshakes!"

We made our way through the store, debating toppings and side dishes. By the time we reached the checkout, our cart was overflowing with an eclectic mix of gourmet and comfort food ingredients.

Back at the apartment, we spread our haul across the kitchen counter.

"Okay," I said, clapping my hands together. "Let's do a test run. We should practice making these before your dad comes over."

Marin nodded, already tying on an apron. "Good idea. I'll start on the patties if you want to prep the toppings."

We worked side by side, chopping onions, slicing cheese, and shaping tiny burger patties. The kitchen filled with the sizzle of cooking meat and the sweet scent of caramelizing onions.

"How's this?" Marin asked, holding up a perfectly formed slider patty.

I grinned. "Looks great. Here, try this onion jam I made."

Marin took a bite, her eyes widening. "Oh my god, that's amazing. Dad's going to love these."

"Moment of truth," I said, holding up a fully assembled slider. "Ready?"

Marin nodded, picking up her own burger. We clinked our sliders together like champagne glasses and took a bite.

The flavors exploded in my mouth - juicy beef, tangy cheese, sweet onion jam, all on a perfectly toasted bun. I looked at Marin, seeing my own delight mirrored on her face.

"We did it," she mumbled around a mouthful of food.

I swallowed, grinning. "Hell yeah, we did. Your dad's going to be impressed."

I glanced at the clock on the microwave. "Looks like we've got about two hours before your dad gets here."

Marin's eyes widened. "Oh crap, is it that late already?" She looked around the apartment, her gaze lingering on the pile of cosplay materials scattered across the living room floor. "We should probably clean up a bit, huh?"

"Yeah, good call," I nodded, already moving to gather up the fabric scraps and half-finished props. "How about we spend an hour tidying, then I'll start on dinner while you get ready?"

Marin bit her lip. "Are you sure? I can help with the cooking too."

I shook my head. "Nah, I've got it covered. You take your time getting ready. I know you want to make a good impression."

"Okay," Marin agreed, then her face lit up. "Oh! Can I pick out our outfits? Please?"

"Sure, why not? Just nothing too over the top, okay? We're going for 'responsible adults', remember?"

"I know, I know," Marin rolled her eyes, but she was grinning. "Trust me, I've got this."

We set to work, tackling the mess with determination. I focused on the living room, gathering up Marin's cosplay supplies and organizing them into neat piles. Marin darted around the apartment, straightening picture frames and fluffing pillows.

"Hey, where should I put this?" I held up a half-finished wig, its purple strands tangled and wild.

Marin looked up from where she was arranging a vase of flowers. "Oh, just stick it in the cosplay room. I'll deal with it later."

I nodded, carefully placing the wig on a styrofoam head in Marin's workspace. As I turned to leave, my gaze fell on a photo pinned to her inspiration board. It was a shot of us at the cosplay convention, both in full costume. Marin was beaming at the camera, while I looked slightly uncomfortable but undeniably happy.

"Akira," Marin's voice snapped me out of my reverie. "You okay in there?"

"Yeah, just got distracted," I called back, shaking off the moment of nostalgia.

We continued our cleaning frenzy, working in comfortable silence punctuated by the occasional question or comment. Before I knew it, the hour was up and the apartment looked spotless.

Marin stood in the middle of the living room, hands on her hips as she surveyed our work. "Not bad, if I do say so myself."

"We make a pretty good team," I agreed, wrapping an arm around her waist.

She leaned into me for a moment, then pulled away. "Okay, outfit time! You start on dinner, I'll be right back."

I watched her disappear into our bedroom, then turned my attention to the kitchen. I pulled out the ingredients we'd prepped earlier and got to work, falling into the familiar rhythm of cooking.

As I shaped the slider patties, my mind wandered to Marin's dad. What would he be like regularly? Would he really approve of me, of us living together? I tried to push the doubts aside, focusing instead on getting the seasoning just right.

"Tada!" Marin's voice made me jump. I turned to see her standing in the kitchen doorway, holding up two outfits. "What do you think?"

I wiped my hands on a towel and took a closer look. For herself, she'd chosen a simple but elegant sundress in a soft blue. For me, she'd picked out dark jeans and a crisp white button-down.

"Nice choices," I nodded approvingly. "Casual but put-together. Your dad won't think we're trying too hard."

Marin beamed. "That's what I was going for! Okay, I'm gonna go get ready. You good here?"

I gestured to the half-formed patties. "All under control. Go make yourself beautiful."

She stuck her tongue out at me. "I'm always beautiful."

"Can't argue with that," I laughed, turning back to my cooking as she disappeared into the bedroom.

The next hour passed in a blur of sizzling meat, caramelizing onions, and last-minute adjustments. I was just plating the first batch of sliders when Marin emerged from the bedroom.

"How do I look?" she asked, giving a little twirl.

I paused, taking in the sight of her. The dress fit her perfectly, highlighting her curves without being too revealing. She'd left her hair down, soft waves framing her face. A touch of makeup enhanced her natural beauty.

"You look amazing," I said softly.

Marin blushed, ducking her head. "Thanks. You should probably go change too. Dad will be here soon."

I nodded, suddenly aware of the grease stains on my t-shirt. "Right, good call. Can you keep an eye on the stove?"

"Sure thing, chef," Marin saluted, taking my place at the stovetop.

I hurried to the bedroom, quickly changing into the outfit Marin had picked out. As I buttoned up the shirt, I caught sight of myself in the mirror. The guy staring back at me looked... grown up. Responsible. Like someone a father might approve of for his daughter.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm the nerves that had suddenly sprung up. It's just dinner, I reminded myself. No big deal.

The doorbell rang, shattering my moment of self-reflection.

"He's here!" Marin called from the kitchen, her voice a mix of excitement and panic.

I stepped out of the bedroom, straightening my collar. "I've got it. You finish up in the kitchen."

Marin nodded, her hands fluttering nervously over the plates of food.

I walked to the front door, pausing for a moment with my hand on the knob. Here goes nothing, I thought, and opened the door.

"Akira," Masumi nodded in greeting.

"Mr. Kitagawa," I stepped back, gesturing for him to enter. "Please, come in."

He stepped inside, his gaze sweeping over the apartment. I watched his face, trying to gauge his reaction, but his expression remained neutral.

"Nice place," he commented, his tone giving nothing away.

"Thank you," I said, closing the door behind him. "We like it."

"Dad!" Marin's voice rang out as she emerged from the kitchen. "You're here!"

Masumi's face softened as he turned to his daughter. "Marin. You look lovely."

Marin beamed, rushing over to give him a hug. "I'm so glad you could make it. How was the drive?"

"Not bad," Masumi shrugged. "Traffic was light."

An awkward silence fell. I cleared my throat. "Can I take your coat, Mr. Kitagawa?"

"Ah, yes. Thank you," he shrugged off his jacket, handing it to me.

As I hung up the coat, Marin led her father into the living room. "So, what do you think of the place? We just moved in a few weeks ago."

I rejoined them, catching the tail end of Masumi's response. "...certainly spacious. How many bedrooms?"

"Three," Marin answered quickly. "We use the spares as a workspace. For my cosplay and Akira's music."

Masumi's eyebrows raised slightly at the mention of cosplay, but he didn't comment. Instead, he turned to me. "Music? I didn't realize you were a musician as well as an actor."

"Oh, uh, yeah," I nodded. "I've been working on some original songs. Nothing released yet, though."

"I see," Masumi said, his tone unreadable.

Another silence threatened to descend. I scrambled for something to say. "Would you like a drink, Mr. Kitagawa? We have water, tea..."

"Water is fine, thank you," Masumi nodded.

"I'll get it," Marin jumped in. "Why don't you two sit down? Dinner's almost ready."

As Marin disappeared into the kitchen, Masumi and I settled onto the couch. The silence stretched between us, heavy with unspoken questions and concerns.

"So," Masumi finally spoke, his eyes meeting mine. "You and my daughter. Living together officially."

I swallowed hard. "Yes, sir. We... we care about each other very much."

Masumi's gaze didn't waver. "And your intentions? What exactly are your plans for the future?"

I took a deep breath, choosing my words carefully. "Mr. Kitagawa, I love your daughter. She's the most amazing person I've ever met. I want to support her dreams, to build a life with her. I know we're young, but what we have... it's real."

Masumi studied me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he nodded. "I see. And how do you plan to support her? The entertainment industry can be... unpredictable."

"I'm aware of that," I acknowledged. "That's why I'm diversifying. Acting, music, maybe even producing down the line. And I'm saving as much as I can. I want to make sure Marin always has security, no matter what happens in our careers."

Something in Masumi's eyes softened slightly. "That's... good to hear. I always worried about her future. Especially with this cosplay business."

I felt a flare of defensiveness on Marin's behalf, but I kept my tone even. "Cosplay is more than just a hobby for Marin. It's an art form. And she's incredibly talented at it. I wouldn't be surprised if she turns it into a successful career."

Masumi looked surprised, then thoughtful. Before he could respond, Marin returned with a tray of drinks.

"Water for Dad, iced tea for us," she announced, setting down the glasses. "And dinner's ready whenever you guys are."

I stood up, grateful for the interruption. "Great timing. Mr. Kitagawa, are you ready to eat?"

Masumi nodded, rising from the couch. "Lead the way."