Makoto looked at Mika and Ayane. They were discussing his employment like they were trading stocks. "Do I get a say in this?" he asked.
"No," Yuna said, flopping onto the other side of the sofa. "We are broke, big bro. You need a job. And if you work at a pervert company, at least you won't meet any normal girls who might try to steal you."
She glared at the screen. "Although if you start falling in love with an AI chatbot, I will unplug the router."
"I won't fall in love with a bot or a normal girl at work," Makoto promised.
"You better not," Yuna muttered. "Digital bitches don't cook." She followed Mika back to her room.
Ayane clapped her hands. "Okay! It is settled. You are applying." She leaned back with a sudden look of exhaustion crossing her face and rubbed her stomach. "But first, I want an introduction fee."
"Fee? You and Mika are gonna split that referral bonus already!" Makoto asked.
Ayane looked at him with wide, demanding eyes. "I got you the lead using my social capital. Now I need payment." She licked her lips. "I want ramen."
"Ramen?" Both Yuna and Makoto asked with their mouths open wide.
"Yes, but not just any ramen. I want your ramen with rich tonkotsu broth, the one you simmer for four hours. With the marinated eggs, two eggs, no, three eggs."
Her voice trembled slightly. "I need the eggs, Makoto. The yolks have to be runny. If they are hard-boiled, I will cry, I will actually cry."
Makoto looked at her. She seemed genuinely distressed about the potential consistency of egg yolks.
Ayane continued, "I want it with a side of vanilla bean ice cream. And I want you to slice up those sour pickles Mafuyu bought and put them on the ice cream."
Makoto stared at her again. "Pickles and ice cream again? Ayane, that is disgusting. Are you feeling okay today?"
"I feel great!" she snapped, her voice rising in a sharp burst of irritability that reminded him of Yuna's recent mood swings. "I just want what I want! Are you going to argue with the woman who holds your career in her hands, or are you going to get in the kitchen and start boiling water?"
"Okay," he said slowly. "I can make ramen. We have some leftover pork bones in the freezer."
Ayane let out a sigh of relief so profound she almost slid off the couch. "Oh, thank god. You are a savior, boss."
===
The kitchen was soon filled with the steam of the ramen broth, a rich, savory aroma that usually made Makoto's stomach growl. But as he stood at the stove, he couldn't stop glancing at the counter where he had prepared Ayane's side dish: A bowl of premium vanilla ice cream, slowly melting, topped with three sliced dill pickles. The contrast of the sweet cream and the briny, vinegary green slices was enough to make his own stomach churn.
Ayane sat at the kitchen island, watching him with an almost physical intensity. She had changed into a loose, oversized tank top that hung low under her arms. She tapped her fingers on the marble, her leg bouncing restlessly.
"Hurry up, you slow pig," she muttered, though there was a strange, needy edge to the insult.
Mika drifted in a moment later, looking immaculate in a simple black slip dress. She walked over to the counter, peered at Ayane's bowl, and then looked at Ayane herself.
"Pickles and ice cream, Ayane-chan?" Mika asked, her voice soft. "Your nutrition is becoming horrible."
"It is what my body wants, Mika!" Ayane shot back, her voice defensive. "Mind your own business."
Mika didn't argue. She simply leaned against the counter, watching Ayane eat with a knowing smile. "You should listen to her, darling. And feed her well. The Clitify referral was really valuable. They got around 300 candidates competing for one position."
Makoto set the steaming bowl of ramen in front of Ayane, followed by the bowl of pickled ice cream.
Ayane didn't hesitate. She dove into the ramen first, slurping the thick, spicy noodles. She ate like a woman who hadn't seen food in a week, her cheeks flushed as sweat began to bead on her forehead from the spice.
Between mouthfuls of the hot soup, she would take a large, cold spoonful of the pickle-ice cream. "Mmm," she moaned, her eyes fluttering shut. "God, yes! The salt and the crunch are perfect."
Makoto watched her with a mixture of fascination and horror. "Ayane, you are going to give yourself a stomachache. Slow down!"
Ayane ignored him, finishing the ramen in record time before turning her full attention to the dessert. When the bowl was licked clean, she leaned back and let out a long, satisfied sigh. She looked at him, her expression softening, the predatory edge replaced by a warm, sated glow.
"Okay," she whispered, her voice a low, raspy hum. "You did well, boss. That was the best meal ever. Marry me!"
She stood up and walked around the counter to stand in front of him. She reached out, her hands sliding under his shirt, her palms flat against his skin. She was warm, radiating heat from the food and her workout.
Makoto looked at her. He thought about the lonely nights she used to spend gaming alone in her apartment, the way she used humor as a shield. He thought about how she had just held him the night before when he was panicking. "I'll do my best," he promised.
Ayane smiled, a bit of egg yolk on her chin. "Good." She let go of his hand and went back to her bowl. "Now, give me your pork too. You aren't gonna finish that."
Ayane's stomach growled as she finished the chashu she stole from Makoto's bowl. "Okay," she purred, her eyes locking onto his. "About that referral." She pushed him back against the fridge, her body pressing firmly into his.
"Mika already sent Kenta-senpai your updated resume. If it is as good as she said, they are going to skip the HR screening round and send you a take-home project to assess your technical skill."
Ayane leaned in, her lips brushing his neck. Her scent was now a mix of miso, vanilla, and her own musk, overwhelming him. Her hand slid down his stomach, her fingers hooking into the waistband of his sweats. "But that can wait until tomorrow. Your food gave me energy, and I need to put it somewhere, Makoto."
She looked up at him, her dark eyes blazing with a fierce, possessive love. She didn't wait for him to respond. She captured his lips in a bruising, hungry kiss, her tongue demanding entry. Makoto met her with equal fervor, his hands finding the firm curves of her ass, pulling her flush against his hardening cock.
The kitchen was silent save for the sound of their frantic breaths and the hum of the refrigerator.
Makoto felt a surge of adrenaline. "I'll get the job, Ayane," he growled against her lips, his hands tightening on her. "I'll get it for all of you."
Ayane laughed, a bright, triumphant sound. "I know you will, big idiot boss. Now take me to the bedroom and pay your debt that night, before Mika decides it is her turn to consult you again."