It was a quiet, sunny Monday morning in the neighborhood. Birds chirped, sunlight streamed in through the curtains, and the smell of something delicious floated from the kitchen.
Max, with his messy bedhead and glasses slightly askew, stood in front of the stove, flipping eggs like a five-star chef in pajamas. He was already up, dressed in a loose hoodie and joggers—his official freelancer uniform.
He hummed some 80s anime opening under his breath, checking his phone in one hand while whisking something in a bowl with the other. "Okay... two meetings later, one design pitch, and—oh yeah, feed the gremlin."
Speak of the gremlin.
From the hallway emerged Kota, scratching his head and dragging his slippers like a zombie.
"Mornin'," Kota yawned.
"Hey, my little suspended student," Max greeted, flipping a pancake with flair. "Class still canceled?"
Kota nodded with a sleepy pout. "Yeah. Teacher said the school was fixing the AC. But Ayumi's still sick so I don't wanna go out. So I guess it's Mario and me today."
Max grinned. "Mario? As in the kart one?"
"You're going down, old man."
Max snorted. "Old man? I was drifting corners in Rainbow Road before you were even born."
"You played the SNES version, huh?"
"That's right. Back when Lakitu was pixelated and mercy didn't exist."
Kota grabbed a spoon and pointed it at Max like a knight. "Then prepare to lose to the new generation."
"Eat your eggs first, you little future loser."
They sat at the table, Kota shoveling down breakfast while Max sipped coffee like a smug philosopher.
"You put cheese in this?" Kota asked mid-bite.
"Of course. I'm not a monster."
"Then you shall be spared in battle," Kota said solemnly.
---
Ten minutes later, it began.
The living room turned into a battleground. Switch controllers charged. TV on. Banana peels ready.
Mario Kart.
Kota chose his usual: Yoshi, sports bike, slick tires. Max picked Donkey Kong with a heavy build, big wheels, and big attitude.
The first race: Toad Harbor.
Max crushed it. Smooth turns, perfect item use, and the unholy luck of dodging every blue shell.
"WOOOOO!" Max stood up and danced. "Let's GOOOO! First place! Old man who?!"
Kota looked like someone just deleted his save file. "You got THREE red shells and a mushroom on the LAST turn!"
Max shrugged smugly. "They call me 'item whisperer.'"
"You're cheating," Kota grumbled.
"I'm just better."
"I'm reporting you to Nintendo."
"You're reporting your own dad?"
"I HAVE NO FATHER!!" Kota screamed dramatically, grabbing a pillow and hurling it at Max's head.
Max laughed and caught it with one hand. "We'll see if you say that after I destroy you in Moo Moo Meadows."
Second round: chaos.
Kota took revenge mode to a new level. He blocked Max's view with a stuffed dinosaur, yanked his controller slightly every turn, and screamed at crucial moments:
"OH MY GOSH BEHIND YOU!"
"What?!"
"HAHA FAKED YOU OUT!"
Max missed a turn.
"YOU LITTLE GOBLIN!"
"That's Mister Goblin to you!"
Max tried pushing him with his shoulder. Kota pushed back.
It was no longer a race—it was war.
At one point, Max started laughing so hard he drove off the cliff three times. "KOTA STOP. I CAN'T SEE. I'M CRYING."
"THAT'S MY VICTORY TEARS YOU'RE WEEPING!"
By the end of the race, they were rolling on the floor, Max half-sitting on the couch, Kota upside down with his legs over the armrest, both out of breath from laughing.
"Okay—okay," Max said between wheezes. "One more race. Winner gets ice cream."
Kota shot up. "Prepare to perish, Donkey Kong."
---
Final race: Rainbow Road.
The tension was thick. Max leaned forward like a sniper. Kota narrowed his eyes, holding his controller like a sacred relic.
Three...
Two...
One...
"GOOO!!"
The race was brutal. Shells flying. Screaming. Kota tried to distract Max by doing a fake sneeze:
"ACHOO—OH NO I DROPPED YOUR PHONE!"
Max twitched. "Nice try! My phone's in my pocket!"
"I LIED."
He threw a sock across the room.
"STOP THROWING CLOTHES AT ME!"
"YOU STOP WINNING!"
Final lap. They were neck and neck.
Max glanced sideways. "Hey Kota."
"What?"
"I'm proud of you."
Kota blinked. "Wha—"
BOOM. Max passed him while he was distracted.
"NOOOO!!!"
"HAHAHA! You fell for the classic 'emotional damage' technique!"
Max crossed the finish line.
"First place again, baby!"
Kota threw himself face-first into the couch. "This is betrayal."
Max patted his back. "That's parenting."
Kota groaned. "I hope Ayumi gets better soon. She's nicer."
"You take that back," Max said, tickling him.
"NOOOO!!"
More chaos. More yelling. More laughter.
Eventually, the two collapsed on the couch again, Max sipping his second coffee of the morning while Kota munched on some crackers, cheeks puffed.
"You know," Max said, glancing at his son, "this was nice."
Kota looked up. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. I forgot how fun this kind of day can be."
Kota smiled. "We should do this again."
Max nodded. "Only next time, we're playing Smash Bros. And I'm using Kirby."
Kota narrowed his eyes. "You wouldn't."
Max smirked. "I would."
Kota gasped. "You monster."
"Monster with WINS, baby."
And just like that, another day passed in laughter, pillows, pixelated bananas, and a bond between father and son that no blue shell could ever break.
To be continued...