The morning sunlight streamed through the thin curtains of Haruka's house, casting long golden strips across the tatami mat floor. Izamuri stirred awake, rubbing his eyes and stretching before rolling out of bed. His body still felt heavy from the long day before, eight hours of sim training, dinner with Shina, and the long walk home, but the thought of another day in the workshop was enough to shake the fatigue away.
He splashed water on his face, ran a comb through his hair, and pulled on his work clothes. By the time he stepped outside, the crisp spring air of March greeted him, carrying faint scents of blossoms beginning to bloom. It was the kind of morning that almost dared you to feel optimistic, even when you weren't sure why.
By the time he had washed up and dressed, Haruka was already waiting outside by the black Corolla E101 TRD2000. The car sat parked neatly in front of the garage, its exhaust puffing lightly in the cool spring air. Haruka, leaning against the hood with his usual unreadable calm, tossed Izamuri the spare thermos of coffee he always prepared.
"Morning," Haruka said simply.
"Morning," Izamuri replied, catching the thermos.
The drive to the workshop was uneventful, the Corolla weaving through morning traffic with its steady, dependable hum. Izamuri sipped his coffee, glancing out the window at the cherry blossoms that lined parts of Suginami's quieter streets. Despite the fatigue, a part of him felt grounded, the familiar rhythm of Haruka's quiet presence and the routine of another day at the workshop.
When they arrived, the sound of clattering tools and the faint thump of music already echoed from inside. Izamuri didn't waste a moment, after hanging his jacket by the office door, he rolled up his sleeves and moved to the nearest bay.
Today's project: a Honda NSX NA1, its rear deck already lifted, exposing the mid-mounted V6. Rin was crouched at the side, torque wrench in hand, while Takamori leaned against a nearby tool chest, sipping canned coffee and pretending to supervise.
"Morning," Rin called from under the raised hood of a Honda NSX NA1, his hands greasy and a ratchet in his grip.
Takamori stood nearby, arms folded, pretending to supervise but occasionally pointing things out with the air of someone convinced he knew better. "Careful with that bolt, Rin. You strip it, and you'll be crying to Honda for a replacement."
Rin shot him a glare. "Then maybe you should be doing it."
"That's not my job," Takamori replied smugly.
Izamuri chuckled as he set his bag down and joined them. The NSX gleamed under the fluorescent lights, its red paint catching every reflection like a mirror. "What's the story with this one?" he asked.
"Customer wants a full service. Fluids, filters, plugs, belts—the works," Rin said. He handed Izamuri a pair of gloves. "Here, you can help with the belts. Takamori's been useless."
"I am managing," Takamori corrected, puffing his chest.
Izamuri shook his head and got to work beside Rin. The NSX's mid-mounted engine made access tricky, but with Rin guiding him, they soon had the belts loosened and prepared for replacement. The rhythm of the workshop settled around them, the whir of pneumatic tools, the smell of oil, and the occasional outburst of swearing from across the room.
Because across the other bay, chaos had its usual names: Tojo and Hojo. The twins were crouched beside a worn white Toyota AE86 Levin, attempting to perform a simple oil change. Simple, at least, in theory.
"Lefty-loosey," Tojo muttered, straining against the oil drain plug with a wrench.
"I know how to turn a bolt!" Hojo snapped, grabbing the tool and yanking the opposite way.
"You're tightening it, idiot!"
"No, you're tightening it-"
There was a sudden crack as the wrench slipped. Oil began to dribble down in the wrong direction, missing the catch pan entirely and splattering across the floor.
The twins froze.
"…You're cleaning that," Tojo said quickly.
"No, you are!" Hojo shot back, already grabbing a rag to staunch the flow.
From across the bay, Rin groaned loudly. "Don't tell me they've flooded the floor again!"
Izamuri glanced over his shoulder. "Pretty sure they have."
Takamori smirked. "And you said I'm useless."
Meanwhile, far from the chaos of the shop, three men were crammed shoulder-to-shoulder inside Daichi's Mitsubishi 3000GT as it rumbled along the expressway toward Shizuoka. The car, powerful as it was, had never been designed to carry three grown men comfortably on a road trip.
Walter, squeezed into the passenger seat, shifted uncomfortably. "Remind me again why we didn't take my 190E estate? Roomier, smoother, and probably better mileage."
"Because this is my car," Daichi said firmly, his hands steady on the wheel. The 3000GT's twin-turbo engine hummed beneath the hood, a sound he clearly relished.
From the cramped rear seat, Nikolai grunted. His knees were practically pressed against his chest. "My Niva could have done this trip without problem. Plenty of space. Suspension like tank. And if road ends, we go through field."
Walter shot him a look. "You really think we'd make it to Fuji in that Soviet tractor?"
"It is not tractor," Nikolai retorted, crossing his arms. "It is symbol of reliability."
Daichi suppressed a laugh. "Gentlemen, both your cars are fine, but we're going to survey Fuji Speedway, not haul potatoes. The 3000GT has the power to get us there and back, and besides, she deserves to stretch her legs."
Walter sighed, muttering under his breath about cramped seats, while Nikolai shifted again and stared out the window at the rolling countryside flashing by.
Back at the workshop, the morning stretched on. Izamuri and Rin worked in steady rhythm on the NSX while Takamori alternated between bragging about his own "expertise" and criticizing the twins' disaster across the room.
"Hey Rin, what's worse," Izamuri asked quietly, tightening a bolt, "Takamori talking or the twins working?"
Rin smirked. "The twins. At least Takamori doesn't spill oil all over the floor."
"I heard that!" Takamori barked from the other side of the car.
"You were meant to," Rin replied.
Izamuri chuckled and focused back on the engine bay. The belts slid into place smoothly, the last of the tensioners locking into position. He wiped his hands clean, satisfied with the progress.
The sound of the twins bickering grew louder. "You put the filter on crooked!"
"No, you did!"
"It's dripping again!"
Izamuri shook his head. Same day, same chaos. But despite everything, there was a strange comfort in the routine, the balance of hard work, noise, and the unspoken rhythm of people who, in their own ways, belonged here.
The hours ticked by in the workshop, and against all odds, the AE86 survived the twins' questionable handiwork. After a great deal of yelling, spilled oil, and at least three tool-related arguments, the job was finally done.
The customer, a middle-aged man who'd been coming to Haruka's garage for years, stood watching with arms crossed. His brow was furrowed in mild annoyance, but when the twins finally lowered the car back onto the ground, he sighed and shook his head with a helpless grin.
"You two," he said, wagging a finger at the twins, "always give me heart attacks."
Tojo grinned sheepishly. "But she runs smooth now, right?"
Hojo gave a thumbs-up. "Like new!"
The man sighed, shaking his head. "You're lucky I've been coming here for years. Anywhere else, they'd have banned you both from touching cars."
The customer just laughed, paid his bill at the counter, and drove off with a resigned wave. The familiar sound of the 4A-GE's engine filled the air as he drove off, leaving a faint trail of exhaust in his wake.
The workshop began to settle again. Rin and Izamuri still hunched over the NSX's open heart, Takamori idly sorting tools nearby, and the girls tucked away in the break room. The day was beginning to feel like any other.
The quiet lasted only a few minutes.
A deep, sharp exhaust note pierced the workshop air. The kind of sound that turned heads before the car was even visible. The growl was high-pitched, refined, and unmistakably exotic. Everyone's ears perked up at once.
Then, through the open garage doors, a Lexus LFA rolled in. The white coupe's sleek bodywork gleamed under the sun, every line sculpted for both elegance and aggression. The sound of its 4.8-liter V10 echoed against the concrete walls as it idled, a beast completely out of place. The kind of car none of them expected to ever see pull into Haruka's modest workshop, where the clientele usually consisted of Kei cars, tuned Civics, aging Supras, and the occasional Skyline. The most exotic machine they'd ever handled before was an R35 GTR Nismo, and even that had seemed like a big deal. This was different, rarer, louder, worth more than the entire shop combined, including the building itself.
This was something else entirely.
The car rolled gracefully into the open bay and came to a smooth halt. For a moment, silence blanketed the garage, broken only by the faint tick of the cooling exhaust.
The driver's door opened, and out stepped Shina Ikawa.
Her presence hit like a spotlight. She wore a flowing designer dress in deep crimson, the fabric catching the light with every step. The dress alone looked like it cost more than most of the cars sitting in the bays. Perfectly applied makeup framed her features, her posture effortlessly elegant, like she had just walked off the cover of a magazine.
And then she did the unthinkable.
Her eyes locked immediately on Izamuri, who was still bent over the NSX engine bay. With no hesitation, she called out brightly, "Izamuri! There you are!"
The words rang through the workshop with the familiarity of someone addressing her boyfriend.
Chaos erupted.
Takamori, mid-sip of his canned coffee, froze. His eyes widened, and he choked so hard he nearly sprayed the drink across the tool chest. He coughed violently, pounding his chest, staring in disbelief.
Rin, startled by the voice, lost his grip on the ratchet. The dreaded 10mm socket slipped free, clattering into the NSX engine bay and vanishing somewhere between the intake manifold and the firewall. He swore under his breath, eyes wide.
The twins, who had just finished cleaning up after the AE86, turned to look, and promptly tipped over the waste oil pan. Black fluid spread across the floor, and both shouted in unison, "Not again!"
From the break room window, Hana and Ayaka peeked out, their eyes narrowing. They weren't jealous of the LFA, no, they were far too grounded for that. But Shina's flawless makeup, her effortlessly composed aura, made both of them grit their teeth.
Even Haruka, normally the calmest person in any room, stepped out of his office and stopped dead in his tracks. He blinked once, twice, utterly taken aback. "What the hell…" he muttered under his breath. His mind was racing. How on earth had Izamuri, who barely knew how to hold a normal conversation some days, managed to attract a woman like that?
And Izamuri himself? He stood frozen, mouth half-open, stunned into silence. His brain lagged several seconds behind the scene unfolding in front of him. He hadn't seen her since dinner the night before. He hadn't asked her out. He hadn't even thought about what their relationship was supposed to be. And now she was here, at Haruka's workshop, calling him out like she owned the title of his girlfriend.
Before he could react, Shina closed the distance with confident strides. She slipped her hand into his, her grip soft but firm, and leaned close enough that her perfume brushed against his senses.
"Play along," she whispered, her voice low enough only he could hear.
Izamuri stiffened. "What?"
She pressed a finger to her lips briefly, then tilted her head closer. "If I don't keep up appearances, my mother will tighten the leash. She's been watching me too closely. If people think I already have someone, it gives me a little more space. You're the only one I trust for this right now."
The words came in a rush, quiet but desperate.
Izamuri's mind spun. He wanted to protest, this was insane, reckless, unfair. He wasn't her boyfriend. He wasn't ready for this. He wasn't even sure who he was some days. But one look into her eyes told him enough: this wasn't just for show. She was afraid, trapped in the cage her mother had built, and this was her way of clawing for air.
He swallowed hard, still reeling, but nodded almost imperceptibly.
Shina squeezed his hand in gratitude before straightening, her smile radiant once again as she looked around the workshop like she belonged there. Everyone else was still staring, speechless.
The silence stretched until Rin, still fumbling under the NSX hood, whispered, "Did he just… bag an LFA owner?" Takamori, still coughing, croaked, "That's not just an LFA owner. That's… What the hell, man."
The twins, ignoring their oil spill, stared slack-jawed. "Oi, Tojo," Hojo muttered. "When did he-"
"No idea," Tojo replied. "But we've been doing life wrong."
Izamuri didn't answer. He couldn't. His heart was racing too fast, his thoughts scattering like loose bolts on the shop floor.
Before anyone could gather words, Haruka finally moved. His shoes clicked softly against the concrete as he approached, calm but with a faint crease in his brow. He didn't speak yet—his mind was still racing, trying to process the sight of Shina Ikawa in a luxury dress holding Izamuri's hand like they were lovers.
But Shina, ever composed, beat him to it. She turned toward Haruka with a smile that could disarm an army.
"Excuse me," she said politely, her voice smooth, "but could you do a simple oil change for me? It's about time for one, and I don't exactly trust the Lexus dealership with my car."
The words landed like a spark in a puddle of fuel.
"The… the LFA?" Rin stammered, still bent over the NSX.
"The actual LFA?" Takamori coughed, finally finding his voice.
The twins, of course, reacted first.
"We'll do it!" Tojo shouted, already sprinting toward the storage area.
"Yeah, we got this!" Hojo echoed, close on his heels.
They nearly collided at the doorway, fumbling to grab the oil stock card and filters. Their intent was obvious, they weren't going to let anyone else touch the Shina's car. If they impressed her, they'd be talking about it for weeks.
As the twins charged into the storage area to grab fresh oil and filters, Hana and Ayaka slipped in behind them. A quick shove, a slammed door, and the lock clicked into place.
"Hey! What gives?!" Tojo's voice muffled from the other side.
"Let us out! We've got an LFA waiting!" Hojo pounded on the door.
On the other side, Hana and Ayaka leaned casually against the wall, smirks on their faces.
"Sorry, boys," Hana said, slipping the key into her pocket. "We'll take this one."
Ayaka nodded, expression calm but her eyes glinting. "We need some… girl talk. About makeup. And other girly stuffs you won't understand. And how exactly she walked in here looking like that.". They proceeds to walk back with the oil and filter already came prepared in hand.
"Don't worry about them," Hana said, dusting her hands as she walked back to the bay.
Ayaka smirked, turning her attention to Shina. "We'll take care of it. But while we're at it. mind if we ask you about your makeup routine?"
Shina blinked, caught off guard for the first time since she entered, then laughed lightly. "Of course. I don't mind at all."
And just like that, the oil change became a background act. Hana and Ayaka circled Shina with practiced curiosity, asking about foundation brands, eyeliner tips, and how she managed to balance the boldness of her lipstick with such an elegant dress.
Shina answered each question warmly, slipping effortlessly into conversation. The LFA sat gleaming behind her, almost secondary to her presence.
Haruka, meanwhile, turned his attention back to Izamuri. He crossed his arms, his expression carefully neutral.
"You've had a busy couple of days," he said, voice low enough to keep the others from overhearing.
Izamuri rubbed the back of his neck. "You think?"
Haruka studied him for a long moment before speaking again. "Look, you've been working hard. Maybe too hard. And since your… friend here gave us a reason, why don't you take the rest of the day off? Go out. Have a proper date."
Izamuri blinked, his suspicion immediate. "You're serious?"
Haruka's lips curled into the faintest hint of a smile. "Completely. Think of it as… balance."
But beneath his calm exterior, Haruka had already decided the truth. With Izamuri out of the workshop, he could finally prep the Civic EK9 properly for tomorrow's test day without interruptions. Adjusting camber, checking fluids, swapping brake pads. tasks that needed focus. Izamuri's sudden "girlfriend" had, unknowingly, made things easier for him.
"Go on," Haruka pressed, giving him a firm pat on the shoulder. "We'll handle things here."
Izamuri hesitated. Yesterday, when Haruka sent him away, it had been under flimsy pretenses. This time, at least, there was a more solid reason, Shina herself had practically dropped in his lap.
Before he could think of a reason to object, Shina tightened her grip on his hand, her smile unwavering. "You heard him. Let's go."
Izamuri sighed, shoulders slumping. "Fine."
Behind them, chaos continued to unfold.
The twins were still banging on the storage door. "We'll sue! This is workplace harassment!"
"No one's going to believe you," Hana called back, smirking as she dabbed Shina's lipstick shade onto the back of her hand to test the color.
Takamori sat slouched on the tool chest, staring at Izamuri with wide, disbelieving eyes. "How… how the hell did you do this?" he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.
Rin was still bent over the NSX, trying desperately to retrieve the 10mm socket with a magnetic pick-up tool. His hands trembled slightly, though whether from frustration or shock, no one could say.
Ayaka, meanwhile, was happily scribbling notes on the makeup brands Shina casually listed, already plotting to order them online later.
Haruka, arms crossed again, watched it all with his usual quiet detachment. The scene before him was absurd—the workshop, normally loud and chaotic, was now utterly dominated by the presence of a single woman. But underneath the chaos, the plan was moving exactly as he needed. Izamuri gone for the evening meant focus. Precision. Preparation.
"Alright," Haruka said, raising his voice just enough to cut through the noise. "If you're going, don't keep her waiting. We'll see you tomorrow."
Izamuri opened his mouth, then shut it again. There was no winning this argument.
He gave one last look at the workshop. Rin muttering angrily, Takamori shell-shocked, the twins locked away, Hana and Ayaka practically glowing with excitement, and let Shina guide him toward the door.
The LFA waited, sleek and ready, its V10 humming faintly as if eager to be unleashed again. Shina led him to the passenger side, opening the door with a flourish.
"Come on," she said softly.
Izamuri exhaled slowly, sliding into the seat. The leather smelled new, the cabin impossibly refined compared to the oily, cluttered air of the workshop.
As Shina climbed in and the LFA's engine flared to life, Izamuri glanced once more through the workshop's wide entrance. Haruka stood there, arms crossed, watching silently. Their eyes met briefly, Izamuri confused, Haruka calm and calculating, before the moment was broken by the roar of the LFA pulling away.
The city lights stretched before them, and Izamuri leaned back, bracing himself for whatever came next. At least, he thought wryly, this time he had a proper reason to leave early.
The LFA's howl faded into the distance as Shina guided the car through the city's winding streets. Izamuri sat rigid in the passenger seat, trying not to look as awkward as he felt. The interior of the car felt alien-like being in a luxury capsule where every stitch, every surface, screamed exclusivity. He kept his gaze fixed out the window, watching the city blur past in shades of steel, glass, and pink cherry blossoms that dotted the sidewalks.
They pulled into an underground garage, and the silence of the LFA's engine shutting off echoed strangely in Izamuri's chest. Shina led him upstairs, swiping a keycard to access an elevator that whisked them up to a penthouse suite. She didn't linger, though. The moment they stepped into her airy, high-ceilinged home with wide glass windows overlooking the city, she set her purse on a marble counter and smiled lightly.
"I just needed to drop the car off. Come on—we'll walk. It's a nice day."
Izamuri blinked. "You… want to walk? From here?"
"Yes. You don't like walking?" she teased, already heading for the door again.
He sighed and followed. "I like walking. I just didn't expect it."
By the time they reached the Tokyo Tower area, the city felt alive in a different way. It was still only two in the afternoon, and the streets were bustling with tourists snapping photos, couples holding hands, and children dragging parents toward souvenir shops. The tower loomed above them, its vivid orange lattice gleaming against the soft blue spring sky.
They strolled beneath its shadow, weaving through the foot traffic. Izamuri found himself oddly at ease for the first time since she'd stormed into the workshop. Shina seemed to shed some of her tension too, her steps were lighter, her laughter came easier when she pointed out something amusing, and her smile felt less like armor and more like sincerity.
Eventually, hunger nudged them toward a nearby shopping mall at the base of the tower. They found a quiet restaurant tucked into a corner, far enough from the rush of tourists. Over bowls of ramen and plates of tempura, the conversation began to flow.
For a while, it was almost normal. Shina asked him about the workshop, about cars she only vaguely understood but seemed genuinely curious about. Izamuri, hesitant at first, found himself explaining how the NSX's intake system worked, how Takamori pretended to be helpful but mostly got in the way, how Rin had practically lost his soul when the 10mm socket disappeared earlier.
Shina laughed, resting her chin on her palm as she listened. "It sounds chaotic… but in a good way. You seem happier when you talk about them."
Izamuri paused mid-bite, caught off guard. "…Maybe."
When lunch was done, they paid. Shina insisted before he could even reach his wallet, and stepped back out into the afternoon light. The tower glowed above them, and the hum of the city wrapped around them as they began the long walk back toward her penthouse.
The path was quieter now, weaving through shaded streets where the bustle of tourists thinned out. Conversation slowed, replaced by the sound of their footsteps and the distant murmur of traffic. Shina occasionally brushed a strand of hair from her face, her dress swaying with each step, while Izamuri kept his hands shoved in his pockets, still unsure what all this meant but unwilling to break the fragile calm.
It was nearly three when they returned to her tower. The lobby was hushed, polished marble floors reflecting the soft overhead lights. A receptionist bowed politely before returning to her work. The stillness made their footsteps echo louder than they should have.
They were almost to the elevators when it happened. A hand shot out from the side, seizing Izamuri by the arm with a force that nearly spun him around.
"You!" a furious voice shrieked.
Before he could react, Shina was yanked as well, her startled cry echoing across the lobby.
It was her mother. Her elegant suit was sharp, immaculate, but her face was twisted with fury. Her grip on Izamuri's arm was like iron, her eyes burning with a mix of outrage and disdain.
"What do you think you're doing with my daughter? Who are you?!" she demanded, her voice rising, each word like a slap.
Shina struggled against her mother's hold, her voice sharp with defiance. "Stop it, Mother! Let him go!"
"Don't you dare raise your voice at me!" her mother snapped, turning her glare back to Izamuri. "Tell me your name. Now!"
Izamuri's chest tightened, but before he could respond, Shina spoke over him, her chin lifting. "He's my boyfriend."
The words froze the air.
For a moment, her mother simply stared, stunned into silence by Shina's audacity. Then her fury redoubled, her voice sharp enough to cut through the stillness of the lobby. "Boyfriend? How dare you shame our family with some… nobody! Do you have any idea what you're throwing away?!"
"I don't care!" Shina shouted back, tears beginning to form at the corners of her eyes. "I won't live like a puppet, doing everything you say! I won't marry someone I don't love!"
"You ungrateful child!" her mother spat, yanking her daughter closer. "You think you know what's best for you? You'll do as you're told. You'll marry him, and that's final!"
The words hit Izamuri like a blow. Marry who?
As Shina struggled against her mother's grip, Izamuri forced out the question, his voice tight. "Who's 'him'?"
Her mother's eyes narrowed, venom dripping from every word. "Akagi Nakamura."
The name reverberated through the air.
Izamuri stiffened. He didn't know the man personally, but the name carried weight. Akagi Nakamura, the ruthless head of Nakamura Entertainment Industries and Technology. A multi-billion-dollar corporation that had its claws in everything from cameras to sports broadcasting. The kind of man whose reach extended into every corner of society.
Her mother's voice rose again, seething. "A man with power, influence, wealth! A man who can give you everything you could ever want. And you throw it away… for him?" She pointed at Izamuri as if he were dirt.
Shina's eyes flared with hatred. "I would rather have nothing with him than a prison with Nakamura!"
Her mother's face twisted, livid beyond reason. Without another word, she dragged Shina toward the exit. Shina fought, heels scraping against the polished floor, her voice breaking as she cried out, "Izamuri!"
Izamuri stood frozen, fists clenched, his chest burning with helpless anger. The sound of her struggling echoed until the lobby doors slammed shut behind them, leaving him alone with the silence.
For the first time, he understood the weight pressing down on her life. And for the first time, he had a name.
Akagi Nakamura…