**Sunday, December 8th - 9:00 AM EST**
The Harvard Faculty Club looked exactly like what Haruki had imagined when he'd pictured "intimidating academic establishment"—all dark wood paneling, leather-bound books, and oil paintings of distinguished men who seemed to be judging him from their gilded frames. He sat at a breakfast table that probably cost more than his monthly stipend, trying to cut his eggs Benedict without letting his hands shake visibly.
"You're overthinking the silverware," Noa murmured beside him, her own breakfast barely touched. "It's just food."
"It's eggs Benedict at Harvard," he replied quietly. "There's probably a proper technique I'm supposed to know."
"There's probably not."
Across the table, Dr. Richardson was deep in conversation with Dr. Margaret Whitfield, the head of Harvard's psychology department, while Sana methodically documented her first Faculty Club experience by photographing each course as it arrived.
"The computational analysis component is particularly impressive," Dr. Whitfield was saying, reviewing the tablet Sana had handed her earlier. "Your pattern recognition algorithms identified linguistic markers we've never considered in relationship assessment."
"Thank you," Sana said, lowering her phone mid-photo. "I think computational linguistics offers untapped potential for psychology research, especially in areas where large-scale data collection has been traditionally difficult."
"Indeed. And your collaboration with Haruki and Noa demonstrates the kind of interdisciplinary approach we've been encouraging in our graduate programs."
Haruki felt the familiar weight of academic attention settling on him. Three months ago, the most sophisticated conversation he'd had about his research was with Professor Akizuki during office hours. Now he was discussing methodology with one of the most respected psychology departments in the country.
"How do you plan to expand the research beyond your initial sample?" Dr. Whitfield asked, turning to include him and Noa in the conversation.
"We're hoping this tour will provide opportunities for cross-cultural validation," Noa replied. "Different regional populations, diverse university communities, varied socioeconomic backgrounds."
"Smart approach. Regional effects on relationship formation are understudied." Dr. Whitfield paused to sip her coffee—real coffee, Haruki noted, not the institutional variety he'd grown accustomed to. "Though I should warn you, not everyone will be as receptive to your findings as we are here."
"We've heard from Dr. Voss at Michigan," Haruki said carefully.
"Marcus Voss." Dr. Whitfield's expression shifted slightly. "Brilliant researcher, but sometimes resistant to methodological innovation. Especially from younger colleagues."
"Any advice for handling skeptical audiences?" Sana asked, pulling out her notebook with the efficiency of someone who believed all wisdom should be documented.
"Present your data clearly, acknowledge limitations honestly, and remember that good research speaks for itself. The critics who matter will listen to evidence, regardless of who presents it."
"And the critics who don't matter?" Noa asked.
"Don't waste your energy trying to convince people who've already made up their minds. Focus on the research and the colleagues who are genuinely interested in learning."
**Sunday, December 8th - 2:30 PM EST**
The psychology department building was quieter on Sunday afternoon, their footsteps echoing in hallways lined with faculty photos and conference announcements. Dr. Whitfield led them toward the main seminar room where their presentation would take place the next morning.
"Sixty seats," she explained, opening the door to reveal a space that managed to look both intimate and intimidating. "We've had excellent response to the announcement. Faculty, graduate students, and several undergraduates working on related research."
"Sixty people," Haruki repeated, trying to keep the panic out of his voice.
"Good turnout for a Monday morning presentation," Dr. Richardson added cheerfully. "Shows how much interest your research has generated."
Sana immediately began examining the room's technical setup—projector, laptop connections, sound system, lighting controls. "Everything looks compatible with our presentation software. Though I should test the connection speeds for the computational analysis demonstrations."
"Of course. I'll leave you to get familiar with the space." Dr. Whitfield checked her watch. "Dinner tonight is at seven—faculty dining room, just the department's relationship psychology group. More casual than this morning."
After she left, the three of them stood in the empty seminar room, processing the reality of their first major presentation.
"Sixty people," Noa said, echoing Haruki's earlier comment.
"Sixty academics who know more about psychology than we do," he added.
"Sixty people who requested to attend because they're interested in our research," Sana corrected. "That's a good thing."
"In theory."
"In practice too. We have solid data, clear methodology, and findings that offer genuine insights. The only question is whether we can present it effectively."
Haruki walked to the front of the room and looked out at the rows of empty seats. Tomorrow, those seats would be filled with professors, graduate students, and researchers whose opinion could shape his academic future. The thought should have been terrifying.
Instead, he felt something that might have been excitement.
"We're really doing this," he said.
"We're really doing this," Noa agreed, settling into one of the front-row seats. "How do you feel about it?"
"Nervous. Excited. Terrified. Ready." He paused, considering. "All at once."
"Good. That probably means we care about doing it well."
"Speaking of doing it well," Sana said, connecting her laptop to the room's projection system, "should we run through the presentation one more time? I want to make sure the computational analysis segments flow smoothly with your relationship psychology material."
For the next hour, they practiced their presentation to an audience of empty chairs. Haruki handled the introduction and theoretical framework, explaining how they'd identified the critical period hypothesis through careful observation of relationship development. Noa presented their methodology and initial findings, describing the behaviors and communication patterns that seemed to predict secure attachment formation. Sana concluded with the computational analysis, demonstrating how large-scale data validation supported their small-sample observations.
By the end, they were moving through transitions smoothly, answering each other's questions naturally, and building on each other's points with the kind of intellectual partnership that had developed over months of collaboration.
"That was good," Noa said as Sana packed up her laptop. "Really good."
"You think so?"
"I think we sound like researchers who believe in our work and can explain why others should believe in it too."
"Plus the data is genuinely compelling," Sana added. "Even skeptical audiences will have to acknowledge the statistical significance of our findings."
"Any final changes we should make?"
"I don't think so. We've practiced enough. Tomorrow, we just need to trust our preparation and remember that we're sharing research that could help people build better relationships."
"That's the goal, isn't it?" Haruki said, looking around the seminar room one more time. "Not just career advancement or academic recognition, but research that actually serves people."
"That's the goal."
As they left Harvard's psychology building and walked back toward their hotel, all three felt the mixed anticipation of being on the verge of something significant. Tomorrow would be their first test as touring academics, their first chance to discover whether their research could hold up to scrutiny from experts in the field.
"Whatever happens tomorrow," Noa said as they reached the hotel lobby, "we've done good work together."
"Whatever happens tomorrow," Sana agreed, "we'll handle it as a team."
"Whatever happens tomorrow," Haruki concluded, "we'll learn something about ourselves and our research."
They spent the evening reviewing notes one final time, not because they needed to, but because preparation was how they managed pre-presentation anxiety. By the time they said goodnight, all three felt as ready as they'd ever be to defend their work to sixty academics at one of the most prestigious universities in the world.
The critical period hypothesis was about to face its first major test.
And they were about to discover what they were really made of.
---
*End of Chapter 20*