He let out a soft chuckle, setting his chopsticks down with a clink. "You're overthinking it. This isn't some do-or-die school exam where you've gotta ace everyone, It's just about sharing what you know with others."
Ashi sighed, propping her chin on her palm, elbow on her knee. "You make it sound so easy."
"'Cause it is," he said, shrugging loose. "There's nothing to stress over. And besides, I'm gonna help you, remember? So don't let it weight on your head too much. Now, eat your lunch."
She paused, then huffed a small breath, unwrapping her lunch with a reluctant nod. "Fine, no overthinking," she said, half-smiling as she grabbed her chopsticks.
"That's more like it," Haari grinned, diving back into his meal.
They ate in a cozy quiet, the rooftop breeze rustling soft, tugging at their hair, the city's hum a distant pulse below. Finishing up, Haari wiped his hands on a napkin and reached to the book he was hiding. "Here, take this."
Ashi blinked, head tilting as he handed her a slim recipe book. "What's this?"
"I've been doing some research," Haari said, tapping the cover of the book. "I thought it'd be a good idea to start by narrowing down the recipes. Do you have anything in mind that you'd like to make for the competition?"
She took it, hesitant, flipping through—pages brimming with tidy notes, recipe scraps, even rough sketches of plated dishes. Her eyes flicked up, wide with surprise. "You… really went all in on this, huh?"
He rubbed his neck, a flicker of bashfulness crossing his face. "Yeah, well… if we're doing it, might as well do it right."
Ashi's lips curved soft, genuine, as she closed the book and cradled it on her lap. "I was thinking… maybe Grandma's curry—her signature one—and some homemade pickles. They're simple, but… they're special to me."
Haari's face lit up, eyes glinting. "That sounds fantastic! Traditional dishes always have that nostalgic appeal. Plus, people love food that tells a story."
Ashi bit her lip, doubt lingering. "You think it's enough?"
"Enough?" Haari scoffed, leaning forward. "It's your specialty. If it means a lot to you, that's all the more reason to share it. We'll refine the recipe, make sure the flavors stand out, and work on presentation. Trust me, we got this."
She exhaled slow, a flicker of courage warming her chest. "Okay… let's do it."
"But where're we practicing?" Haari asked, chopsticks tapping the bench.
Ashi tapped her chin, then perked up. "How about my place?"
Haari froze, a flush creeping up his neck. " Yo_Your place?" he echoed, voice hitching.
"Yeah," she said, unfazed. "It's got everything—perfect setup for us to go all out."
He blinked, then nodded quick, red fading. "Uh—yeah, sounds good."
At Ashi's Apartment
Ashi twisted the key, nudging the door open, and glanced back. "Come on in, Kichiro-san. Make yourself comfy."
Haari stepped inside, shoes scuffing the mat, and a small chuckle slipped out as he scanned the room—cozy, lived-in, a faint whiff of spices lingering.
Ashi narrowed her eyes, pausing mid-step. "What's so funny?"
He rubbed his neck, grin turning lopsided, a touch sheepish. It's kinda awkward to say, but… this is the second time I've been here. And, uh, the first time… I did exactly use the front door."
Her brows shot up, then it clicked. "Oh." She crossed her arms, lips twitching as the memory flared—him crashing in, wild-eyed, a savior in a storm. "Right… you barged through the balcony to save me last time."
His chuckle rolled deeper, warm and rueful. "Yeah. Pretty dramatic entrance, huh?"
Ashi's frown crept in, a new thread unraveling. She turned, eyes sharpening. "Wait a second. Now though I think about it, Kichiro-san… when you came to save me, why did you break the glass door instead of just opening it?"
Haari blinked, caught flat-footed. "Huh?"
"The balcony door," Ashi said, arms tightening across her bi_ ah hum, across her chest, voice edged with mock accusation. "You shattered the glass completely instead of just… I don't know, sliding it open?"
"It was locked!" Haari protested, hands up like she'd pulled a gun. " so I didn't have much of a choice,"
She sighed, head shaking slow, a teacher scolding a kid. "It wasn't a key lock, Kichiro-san. It was just a temporary latch—a flimsy one. If you'd paused for half a second instead of going full action movie hero, you could've flipped it open."
His face blanked, gears grinding, then clicked. "Ha?" A nervous laugh sputtered out, awkward and high. "I, uh… I didn't really notice at the time. Guess I was too focused on saving you."
Ashi groaned, palm smacking her forehead. "Do you know how much that glass cost to replace? And then I had to sit through Grandma's and the landlord's lectures— for hours of it!"
He winced, shoulders hunching, a sheepish grimace tugging his lips. "Oof, brutal. Sorry about that—didn't mean to spark a saga."
She waved it off, hand slicing the air. "I'm not asking for an apology. Just… think before you act next time."
Haari's grin crept back, hand rubbing his neck"I'll try, but no promises. My instincts kinda take over in emergency situations."
"You're impossible, Kichiro-san," she said, sighing again, but a smile slipped through, soft and unwilling, lighting her eyes.
"Hey, at least I have good intentions," he quipped, leaning in with a playful nudge.
She rolled her eyes, but the warmth in her stare gave her away, amusement flickering. . "Come on, let's get started. We've got a lot of cooking to do."
They shuffled into the kitchen, the air shifting light and easy, banter trailing like a breeze. Pots clinked, spices wafted, and despite the looming competition, Ashi felt a quiet calm settle in—strange, but right.
Over the next few days, they worked closely together. Even after Office, they'd meet up at Ashi's place, testing out different versions of the curry, tweaking the spice levels, and perfecting the balance of flavors. Haari took notes diligently, suggesting ways to enhance the dish while still keeping its authenticity.
Some attempts were disasters—like when Haari accidentally added too much chili, turning the dish into a fiery inferno.
" Nicawa-san!" he wheezed, voice cracking like a dramatic anime cry. "Are you trying to kill the judges?!"
Ashi flailed, her apron a fluttering banner, hands waving like she could banish the heat with sheer willpower. "My bad, my bad!" she yelped, voice soaring high. "I thought a little heat would make it exciting!"
He gulped water, tears streaking his cheeks, but a grin broke through. "Epic? More like apocalyptic!"
She swatted his arm, laughter bubbling over the pot's hiss, the air thick with spice and silliness.
Other nights were softer, gentler—like a slice-of-life episode bathed in warm light. They'd huddle at her rickety kitchen table, heads bent over sketches of plates like strategists plotting a grand reveal. Ashi would sketch a swirl of curry, Haari doodling pickles in the margins, their voices weaving dreams of color and shape—how to make the dish sing, not just taste.
One evening, Haari leaned against the counter, arms crossed, his dark eyes catching the golden glow of the overhead lamp. Ashi stood at the stove, stirring the latest batch with a focus that could pierce steel. Steam rose in delicate curls, wrapping her in a fragrant mist, her hair glowing like a heroine's halo. He smirked, a spark of awe flickering beneath his usual cool.
"Y'know, Nicawa-san," he said, voice low but bright, tilting his head like a curious fox, it's kind of amazing to see how dedicated you are to this," ."
Ashi glanced up, caught mid-stir, a faint blush blooming across her cheeks like cherry petals in spring. Her spoon slowed, drifting absently through the pot. "My grandma always said that cooking with love makes all the difference." she murmured, soft as a whisper in the wind.
Haari's smirk melted, his gaze softening, warm as the curry's glow. "Yeah… I see it. It's not just the taste—you pour your whole soul into every move. It's like…" He paused, searching the air, then grinned wide. "Like watching an artist paint a masterpiece, brushstroke by brushstroke."
Ashi's chuckle rippled out, light and teasing, shaking her head like he'd spun a wild tale. "You're so dramatic, Kichiro-san!"
"I'm serious!" he shot back, leaning closer, grin flashing like a hero's resolve. "You've got this quiet determination, like nothing else exists when you're cooking."
Her blush deepened, eyes darting back to the pot, but a smile tugged her lips, small and real, as the steam danced between them.
Ashi eyes drifting upward to the ceiling, lost in a quiet glow. "It's fun, isn't it?" she said, voice light as a melody.
"Huh?" Haari blinked, caught off-guard by her sudden softness.
"Doing stuff like this—together," she clarified, a smile tugging her lips, warm and unguarded. "It's fun."
He grinned, leaning back, the rooftop breeze still lingering in his messy hair. "Yeah, it is."
Then—a whiff of doom sliced through the cozy air. Something acrid, sharp, like a warning flare. Haari's nose twitched, senses sparking. He bolted upright, dashing to the stove, eyes widening at the pot. The curry had turned—a dark, ominous yellow, bubbling like a witch's brew gone wrong. "Nicawa-san! The curry?!"
Ashi snapped out of her daze, head whipping around. "Huh?" She gaped at the pot, her masterpiece now a smoldering mess. "Haa—what?! How did this happen?!" Her arms flailed like a frantic windmill, hands darting for ingredients—salt, turmeric, anything—but the shelves stared back, barren. "No, no, no!"
She grabbed the spoon, rolling the curry at lightning speed, a whirlwind of panic. Haari lunged behind her, his hand shooting out to catch hers mid-spin. "Nicawa-san—stop!"
"Huh?" She froze, glancing over her shoulder, eyes wide, breath hitching as his fingers locked around hers.
"It's okay," he said, voice steady but soft, a lifeline in the chaos. "We'll make another one. It's just practice, right?"
Ashi exhaled, a shaky gust, her tension melting. She slumped back, her shoulders brushing his chest, her back pressing against him—warm, solid, a quiet anchor. Haari's breath caught, his face igniting a deep crimson, heart hammering like a taiko drum. She turned to speak, lips parting, but stalled—his flushed face loomed close, eyes locked, a deer in headlights.
Realization crashed over her like a tidal wave. "Oh—!" She jolted, trying to spring upright, but her foot slipped—balance gone. She teetered toward the bubbling pot, a scream bubbling up—
Haari's arms snapped around her waist, yanking her back. They tumbled in a tangle of limbs, crashing to the floor—him flat on his back, her sprawled atop him, chests pressed tight, faces inches apart. Time froze. Their breaths mingled, hot and ragged, heartbeats thundering in sync—ba-dump, ba-dump—loud enough to drown the world. Her hair curtained his face, his dark eyes glinting up, her hazel ones wide with shock.
Voices echoed in Haari's head, a chaotic chorus. Go confess to her—everything starts with friendship! the Old Man's gruff wisdom roared. Ask her out—she's into you, full chance! Rafta's smug tease chimed in. His lips parted, trembling, her breath grazing his skin, their eyes sinking deeper—closer—eyelids fluttering shut—
SPLAT. A scalding drop of curry plopped onto Haari's hand, a fiery sting snapping the spell. "AGH!" he yelped, voice cracking high, shattering the moment.
Ashi flinched, scrambling up, heart racing. "What's wrong?!" She reached for him, pulling him to his feet, her hands frantic.
He stumbled upright, wincing, and flicked off the stove with a quick twist. "Nothing—just some hot curry splashed my hand."
"WHAT?! Show me!" Ashi's voice spiked, a heroine's cry, panic blazing in her eyes. She lunged, snatching his wrist before he could dodge, her grip fierce yet trembling.
"It's not a big deal—" he started, but her glare silenced him, sharp as a katana's edge. She twisted his hand gently, peering at the damage—a red, swollen dot burned into the back of his left hand, raw and pulsing like a tiny ember of their chaotic night.
Her breath hitched. Without a word, she leaned close, puffing soft, frantic bursts of air over the burn, cooling it with a tenderness that made the air shimmer. Haari froze, her closeness a sudden spotlight, his heart thudding loud in the quiet.
"I've got a med kit—sit there, I'll fix it now!" she barked, already spinning toward a drawer, her ponytail whipping like a battle flag.
Thwack! Haari's hand darted out, landing a soft chop on her head—not hard, just enough to jolt her. She yelped, "Ow! What was that for?!" rubbing the spot, eyes flashing up at him, wide and indignant.