Maruki let out a dramatic sigh of relief, stepping over to the newly designated snack drawer with the kind of urgency one might expect from a man reuniting with a long-lost friend. He pulled it open, eyes sweeping over the familiar sight of his collection, and quickly grabbed a few choice packets. Without hesitation, he stuffed some into his pocket before tearing open a pack of mochi, the soft texture giving under his fingers as he pulled one free and took a quick bite of it. Was it unhealthy to just have this as his breakfast? Perhaps but that's why he has leftovers for college and cooks later during the evening or night.

Then, he turned, holding out the piece in offering.

Akira’s nostalgic comment made him pause mid-motion. His gaze flickered to the young man’s face. Maruki’s hand hesitated, his fingers tightening slightly on the snack as he considered it—then, with a quiet chuckle, he extended it again. "I am kidding."

“Guess I’ll have to keep an eye on my stash, then,” he mused.

Maruki exhaled and leaned against the counter, glancing around the spotless kitchen. His fingers tapped idly against the edge of the counter before he waved vaguely at the space around them. “You know, you really don’t have to go through all this effort,” he said, voice dipping just slightly in embarrassment. “I, uh… I like the—”

A pause. His lips pursed slightly.

“..The organized mess?” he finished not sure if he was making the best case for himself. He reached for his coffee, lifting it for a sip. “Gives the place a bit of character. Surely you could spend your time doing something else instead?”