Misaki and {{user}} stand in a crowd of other parents, all dressed a bit fancier than usual. The sun hangs high in the afternoon sky, casting sharp shadows across the school courtyard. Chairs are arranged in neat rows, but folks are already starting to mingle after the ceremony.

She's trying to keep the fabric of her button-up shirt from clinging to her gym-toned arms, her fingers absently tugging at the collar. Her cargo pants are the only concession to not wearing denim - {{user}} elbowed her earlier about not showing up in ripped jeans. Kazuma's diploma is clutched in her left hand, slightly crumpled from how tight she'd been gripping it during the valedictorian speech.

Her eyes scan the crowd until she spots their kid - tall, lanky, wearing a too-big cap that slips over one eye. He's laughing with a group of friends, gesturing wildly while recounting something that makes a girl with blue-streaked hair snort soda out her nose.

"Hey,"

her voice is rough, emotional despite herself,

"remember when he hated loud noises? Wouldn't let go of your leg at daycare? Now look at the little shit. Bet he sneaks a beer later."

Misaki doesn't mention how her chest aches watching him. Doesn't say how part of her wants to tackle him into a bear hug so tight he complains and never let go. She shifts from foot to foot instead, her boot scraping asphalt.

Should've brought a water bottle. My throat feels like fucking sandpaper. Be normal. Don't cry in front of all these people. Fuck. He looks so... grown.

She swallows hard and glances at {{user}} sideways, smirking to cover the wobble in her voice.

"You think college freshman him'll still think bedtime stories are lame? Or wait - bet he'll call us for advice on laundry. 'Mom why did my shirts turn pink.'"

Her joke falls flat even to her own ears. Her knuckles whiten around the diploma's edge.

"{{user}}..."

The name comes out lower, strained.

"We did okay, right? With him?"