The Ashigara Service Area unfolded before them like a roadside oasis, snow frost still clinging to the trees on the hillside. Several cars streamed in and out.
Renji parked and cut the engine, practically bouncing out of the driver's seat. Despite his expressionless face, inside—his grin returned, schoolboy wide.
Yes! First official stop on our glorious road trip. Let the memories begin!
"—Catch."
Shira flicked something towards him, it was thrown into his chest as he almost dropped it.
"W-whoa!"
"Use that to buy whatever you want," Shira said and already walking toward the front doors of the rest area.
Still confused, Renji looked down at what he caught, and his eyes widened in an instant.
This matte black card—don't tell me this is the rumored magic card?!
It wasn't even felt like the normal PVC plastic card. This thing had weird weight for a credit card. Glossless, jet-black front and back. Just three embossed digits and a discreet gold logo gleamed in the corner. He held it like it was a piece of treasure.
"W-wait… we're not eating together?" He called after her. But Shira, already halfway across the parking lot, didn't so much as flinch.
… So much for a date episode. Yeah, I wish… haha.
As he steps inside later on, other than the Christmas decorations hung overhead, the warm air swirling with delicious scents of foods—broth steaming from noodle stalls, grilled skewers greet him. A hint of fresh bread wafted from a bakery corner. Coffee machines hissed, blending into the chatter of travelers.
His eyes darted around for a flash of Shira's ponytail, but nothing. Not even her shadow. Just crowds of families, truckers, couples bundled in scarves.
Figures. Guess I'm exploring alone.
But roughly 30 minutes later after circling the area, Renji stared at his hands—carrying two tuna onigiri, and one oolong tea. After all the stalls, all the aromas, all the glorious temptation, he'd ended up with the most basic choice on minimarket section.
"… She said I could get anything, but… damn it, it still feels wrong to splurge on her card…" He grumbled under his breath.
On the way to the cashier, something caught his eye—a rack stacked neatly with bananas, each dressed up with gold hologram stickers like fruit royalty.
"Whoa… premium, huh?"
He'd only ever gone for the bruised, discounted ones in the corner of supermarkets. He hesitated, then reached out for one bunch.
"…I guess it's fine. Miss Shira could eat it too."
He placed the bananas with his onigiri and oolong tea at the counter. The seemingly senior cashier smiled politely.
"Good morning, sir. Is this all?"
"Yeah. I-I'll be paying with this." Renji slid the black card across the counter. The cashier blinked at it, tilting his head with faint suspicion, eye switching between the card and the owner.
"…Excuse me, sir, but… is this really yours?"
"H-huh? Yes! I mean—technically, yeah… Ummm, it can't be used here…?" Renji stammered, the weight of the cashier's doubtful stare pressing down on him.
"Can I see your ID, sir?"
Then—thud. A black coffee can landed on the counter. Slender fingers with polished nails rested on it.
"…Onigiri… And bananas… You weren't joking earlier."
Renji turned his head at the woman low, and tired sigh beside him.
"M-Miss Shira…?"
"This guy's with me. Put it all on one receipt." Her gaze moves toward the cashier, sharp and dismissive. Making the cashier's posture snapped straight.
"Y-yes, ma'am! At once. Sorry for the inconvenience!"
After their purchases were bagged and handed over in silence, the two walked back toward the car, their breath fogging in the crisp morning air.
"…So, uh, where have you been?"
"Woman's business."
"…Oh… okay…"
As the car came into view, Shira suddenly extended her hand. "Give me the key."
Renji blinked with question marks around him.
"…Huh? Switching so soon? I can still drive, you know—"
"Just hand it over. If I let you keep driving, we'll take forever to arrive."
Her tone left no cracks for argument. With a defeated sigh, Renji fished the fob from his pocket and dropped it into her palm.
"…Fine. Then what's the point of me being your driver…"
Inside the car, Shira adjusted the seat in brisk, efficient movements—seatback, mirrors, seatbelt, one fluid click after another. The ignition hummed, her hands grips onto the wheel, and the sedan moved from the parking space with uncanny smoothness.
Renji eased in his seat, they come out from the Ashigara Service Area and merged back onto the main road. For two steady minutes, Renji finally reached into the bag.
"No kidding, you're good at driving…"
"You're just bad."
"…Come on… my daily ride was an old scooter before this one…"
He took out one banana, as he about to peel it, he looks at the woman beside him.
…Such concentration though…
Shira eyes locked on the road, with both her hands steady on the steering wheel. Then it occurred to him.
"Hey, want a banana? I can peel it and feed yo—"
Shira's eyes flicked to the side rearview mirror. They lingered there, locked, sharp. Then without warning—her foot slammed the pedal. The engine roared alive. And the car shot forward.
"——oooooOOLLLY SHIIIIITTTTTT!!"
Renji's half-peeled banana tumbled into the bag as he grabbed the assist handle above him, his stomach flying as street outside streaked past in a blur.
--------
...You again...
Shira locks her eyes on the same car tailing them on the same distance, despite not stopping at the service area.
I thought to catch you on my stop earlier… yet you didn't take the bait… not amateur... but not switching a car means you're either sloppy, or solo…
Renji's fixed on his seat and screaming in fear. Yet on the contrary, Shira sat like she was born in that seat. One hand light on the wheel, the other adjusting gears with machine-like precision. The only sign of focus is a faint narrowing of her eyes as she glanced between mirrors.
Is it one of the Genzou's men? Or is it yours…? Hino Gakujin…?
Shira dissects each and every name of person who might be the culprit.
Since this guy keep following despite Miss Reika not here, so they're locking on me? Yet again… If it were those board members… they can extract information or my schedule from somewhere else…
"Miss Shira!!! We're gonna crashhh!" Renji voiced his desperate plea at her in between her thought, yet she ignores it all.
I can understand their motives… but they shouldn't dare to tail me in daylight like this…
Her thought keeps running a different name until she glances at the man that sitting beside her, pale and almost laughably pathetic.
Is it me…? Or is it him after all…? He's nobody though… as expected… the drugs planted on him was really suspicious… as if it was a ghost…
Shira recalled the days where she digs around about the drugs incident 3 weeks ago, all she found was Renji just an ordinary, and unlucky man who's unknowingly used as disposable courier, and Shira already knew for a fact that Tetsuo has nothing to do with that world.
Since I got no actual lead and there's no escalation from that day, I'm about to brush it off… but this is starting to bug me… Yet again… I don't have time to play with you any further right now, I'll hunt you after my business here is over…
Deep inside her, she felt this slight unease that refuse to go away—
"Y-you're—You're driving too fast!!" Renji croaked, voice rattling from the g-force. "We're seriously gonna get pulled over!!"
"It's fine as long as I'm not blasting under the camera or patrol cars." Shira finally answers to him, with a scoff, she didn't slow down, and she adds with a playful tone, and one very—very sweet smile. "…Hey Renji, look. You'll want to see this part."
"WHY ARE YOU SMILING—?!"
And with that, she threaded the sedan through a narrowing gap between two expedition trucks, the entire cabin shuddering as air pressure boomed like a thunderclap.
Renji's scream tore free.
"GGGaaaggggaaaaAAAAAAAAAAGHhhhHHH—!!!"
Three exits blurred past like a time skip—Gotemba, Oyama, then Numazu. Each time, Shira tested the waters, feinting toward the ramps, holding her wheel just long enough to see if the shadow behind her would follow her dance, Shira kept her burst of speed driving in 2-3 minutes interval to avoid being pulled over by the police.
But finally—empty is the mirrors. The car had trailed off somewhere before Numazu, vanishing as quietly as it had arrived.
Finally gave up…? Or did they realize that I notice them…?
After making sure that the pursuer is gone, Shira let the engine breathe slow, easing the pedal until the speedometer dropped back within legal limit. The steady thrum of normal traffic returned around.
She flicked her blinker, veering left into a roadside gas station, as she pulled up beside the fuel dispenser and slipped the gear into park, only then did she notice the quiet.
Hmm? Oh, right… it's been silent for a while now…
Turning her head, she caught the sight of Renji in the passenger seat. Frozen. His hand was welded to the overhead grab handle like part of the car's original frame. The other clutched a plastic bag cradling bananas and onigiri on his lap, as if that too were a safety device. He hadn't moved an inch since, it seems.
A smirk tugged at her lips.
"That's how you drive, newbie."
Renji didn't react immediately. His head turned toward her in slow, choppy movement—like a machine that been long without an oil. Ten seconds too late, his dry lips parted.
"…W…h…at…?" His voice was hollow. Then, louder, his face cracking back into life:
"You weren't DRIVING—you were goddamn RACING!!!"
Shira's smile held steady as she cut the engine and unbuckled. "You haven't seen Miss Reika's driving."
"H-huh…?" Renji frowned, still trying to process that information.
Shira slid out of her seat. Before shutting the door, she bent slightly, her voice clipped and simple—
"You'll drive after this."
The door shut with a clean click.
"…Thank God…"
--------
Ten hours just passed like that on the expressway. Morning light had folded into evening shadows without fanfare, broken only by two quick rest stops. Everything after Numazu felt strangely mundane—too normal, even. As if Shira's racer's blood earlier had been nothing but a fever dream.
By the time the signs for Shimonoseki finally appeared, Renji felt the distances in his bones. His eyes burned, his joints began to felt stiff and sore.
"Take the second turn after the traffic light… Go straight. The hotel should be ahead."
"On it, ma'am…"
Damn… I'd love a warm bath and soft bed for a while—
Yet as he thought about it, Shira's voice sliced through his dream before he could enjoy dwelling on it.
"—After you drop your bag, standby at the car. Fifteen minutes."
…Ha.Ha.Ha…As if…
Renji sighed, forcing a wry smile. "Okie dokie..."
The city opened before them in the snowy dusk—street lamps along the strait, the water became dark mirror beyond the port. Then, stood between newer buildings, a hotel could be seen, modest, 10+ stories, its facade a little worn but washed clean by decades of sea air, it feels almost timeless. Renji looks at its name 'Via inn', simply lettered in a huge, white, neon box.
"Ooooh… I thought we'd be staying somewhere fancier."
"We're not actually here for a vacation."
"…Even so, I thought you guys might be allergic to anything under five stars…"
"You really do have the typical mindset of a simpleton."
"…I'm just kidding…" Renji said while about to take the turn to the basement parking area.
"Ah, no need to park in the basement. Just drop on the lobby."
After he did just as she said, Renji slid out of the driver's seat, stretching until his spine cracked. The cold, clean air off the sea stung his lungs.
… Record-breaking drive of my life. No contest.
He walked to the trunk and picked up his stuff. One duffle bag—that was his entire life on this trip. Shira already had hers slung over a shoulder, one in particular standing out. A long, heavy-duty carry bag, that almost as tall as her.
"…Want me to carry that for you?" he asked, gesturing at it.
"No need."
"…What even is that? A tent?"
Yet, she turned on her heel without answering to him, walking into the lobby without another word.
"Sure… whatever…" Renji locked the trunk, sighing as he began to get used to how Shira treated him.
…So much for doki-doki business trip with the cool beauty senpai. I didn't expect anything… but this is way underwhelming…
Inside, the lobby smelled faintly of cedar polish and old carpeting. A trainee receptionist in a crisp, new white uniform straightened at the desk, smiling with rehearsed cheer at Shira's presence.
"Good evening! How may I help you?"
"880. Iwata."
"…Excuse me?" The receptionist blinked, flustered.
"Corner suite. 880. Iwata." Shira repeated coldly, but to others, it might sound as if she's angry.
"Uh—880? We don't… um, let me check—" She flipped through the guestbook, panic setting in. "D-did we have that room…?"
Renji just glancing between Shira's stone face and the girl's nervous fumbling, until a deep and radio-like voice comes from distance.
"Miss Kurosawa. What a pleasure." A man in a tailored suit appeared, bowing low to Shira. After that the man turned to the receptionist and winked at her. "Could you check on toiletries stock for me?"
"Y-yes, manager!" the girl scurried off with a bow.
"…You shouldn't put a trainee on the front in times like these," Shira said, her voice tinged with reproach.
"Precisely because of times like these, it's better for a new and clueless face on the front, hehe." The manager's polite smile didn't waver. He lowered his voice. "Your arrangements are ready. Payment processed. Five days, or longer if required."
"Good." Shira accepted the key card and strode toward the elevators.
Renji stood frozen, feeling like a forgotten suitcase on the floor.
Whoa… VIP treatment, directly from the manager. Of course.
"What are you waiting for? Come on." Shira half-turned, her scowl pulling him back.
"…Uh, where's my key? Actually, what room?"
"880."
Oh. That was my room, then…
He followed, trudging through a hallway carpet, the elevator, until when they reached the eighth floor, Renji found himself staring at the wooden plaque: 880.
"Huh?"
Shira slid the keycard, opened the door, and walked inside.
"…Wait. Isn't this my room?"
"Yes."
"And… this is your room too?"
"Yes."
"…One room?"
"Yes."
…Huh??
"If you prefer the car, I'm not stopping you," she said casually while putting down her stuff on the side of the bed.
"N-no…" Renji adjusted the duffle on his shoulder and stepped inside.
The room welcomed them with muted warmth. Two single beds, side by side, the gap between them barely enough for a nightstand. Heavy curtains drawn against the winter night, faint light seeping through the fabric from the port outside.
Yet his eyes glued on Shira's nonchalant movements.
…Is this… doki-doki after all…?