He smirked, arms crossing like a scolded senpai. "I said it's fine, Nicawa-san. You think I'm some fragile flower that a little burn's gonna take down? Stop overthinking—we've got dishes to wash. It's late, and we've got office tomorrow."
She puffed her cheeks, glaring, but the fight drained out, replaced by a reluctant pout. "Fine…" she mumbled, hands dropping, though her eyes lingered on his hand, worry still flickering like a stubborn spark.
A few moments later, Haari stood at the door, jacket slung over his shoulder, the night's cool breath seeping in. Ashi hovered behind, her voice small but insistent. "Is your hand okay now?"
He turned, catching her gaze—those big, hazel eyes shimmering with concern, like stars trapped in a storm. She faltered under his stare, stepping back, a whisper slipping out. "It's fine, I get it…"
Haari's grin softened, warm as a lantern's glow. "I'm good—promise. You, though? Stop overthinking, or you'll drive yourself nuts. Get some rest, okay? Night, Nicawa-san."
She nodded, a faint smile breaking through. "Okay… good night, Kichiro-san."
The door clicked shut, and the night unfurled—stars winking above, the city's hum fading to a hush, wrapping Ashi's apartment in a quiet, tender dark.
The evening sun dipped low, casting a golden haze over the bustling streets as Haari and Ashi trudged back from the office, arms laden with extra bags of ingredients—sacks of spices, jars clinking like treasure, a testament to their relentless quest. Haari shifted his grip, glancing at Ashi's determined stride beside him.
"Did we grab everything we need?" he asked, voice teasing, a grin tugging his lips as the bags rustled.
Ashi puffed out her chest, ponytail swaying like a victory flag. "I hope so! I made a list—triple-checked it in my head. We are going to be fine!" Her eyes sparkled with fiery resolve, a heroine ready to conquer.
They reached her apartment, a cozy fortress of culinary dreams. She fumbled the key with a triumphant jingle, swinging the door wide, she chirped, kicking off her shoes as Haari followed, bags thumping onto the counter.
Their routine ignited like a well-rehearsed montage—chopping, stirring, tasting—two cooks in sync, chasing perfection for the looming competition. The kitchen bloomed with aromas: turmeric's earthy hum, cumin's warm punch, the curry simmering like a golden potion in its pot. Haari leaned over, peering in, his dark eyes glinting with approval.
"Looks perfect," he declared, voice ringing with pride, a chef's nod to a masterpiece.
Ashi opened her mouth to reply, ladle poised midair—when a sharp knock-knock-knock sliced through the steam. They froze, heads swiveling in unison, the pot bubbling like a curious onlooker.
"Who could it be at this hour?" Ashi muttered, brows furrowing. She set the ladle down with a soft clink, wiping her hands on a towel—a warrior shedding her apron for battle. She padded to the door, tugging it open—and gasped, eyes ballooning wide.
"Huh?! Densi-san?! Habi-san?!" Her voice shot up, a mix of shock and delight. There stood Rafta, hands shoved in his pockets, smirking like a cat who'd caught the canary, and Oki, her sleek black ponytail gleaming, a quiet grin softening her sharp edges.
Rafta tilted his head, his grin stretching wider. "Sorry to drop in unannounced. We just wanted to check on our cooks. How's the preparation going?"
Haari's voice sailed from the kitchen, bold and bright. " Pretty good, testing different recipes. Nicawa-san's cooking is amazing."
Rafta's gaze slid to Ashi, mischief glinting in his eyes like a spotlight. "Heard you're a wizard in the kitchen, Nicawa-san. Bet you'll sweep that competition—judges won't know what hit 'em!"
Ashi squirmed, a blush creeping up her cheeks like a rising tide. She fidgeted with the towel, twisting it in her hands, her voice dipping soft. "I… hope so." Her eyes darted away, but a tiny spark of pride flickered—small, but growing.
"I brought some extra spices and ingredients, Oki chirped, holding up her loot—spices glinting like treasure. just in case. Thought they might come in handy."
Rafta hefted his own bag, kitchen tools clanking. "And some backup gear. Can't let our stars falter, right?"
Ashi's shock melted into a grin. "Wait—we grabbed stuff from the market today too!"
"You did?!" Oki blinked, then burst into laughter, a cascade of giggles echoing with Ashi's own. She stepped aside, waving them in like a grand host.
The moment they crossed the threshold, Oki inhaled deep, eyes sparkling like stars. "Whoa—it smells like heaven in here! I'm drooling already!"
Ashi laughed, light as a breeze. "We're just about to start the final preparations. Habi-san, would you mind helping me with the curry? I'm running a little behind."
"Of course!" Oki rolled up her sleeves, tying her hair back with a flick—ready for action. "Just tell me what to do."
Rafta surveyed the bustling kitchen before spotting an empty chair. With a contented sigh, he sank into it. "I think I'll stay out of the way and let the professionals do their thing."
Haari, who had been arranging ingredients, took the seat next to him, stretching his arms behind his head.
Rafta smirked. "You and Nicawa-san have been working pretty hard."
Haari glanced at the kitchen, where Ashi stirred with laser focus. ". "Yeah… she's been incredible. I never realized how much effort goes into preparing for something like this. It's been fun, though."
Rafta leaned in, mischief brewing. "You've really taken on the role of cheerleader, huh? It's obvious you care a lot about her and her success."
Haari shrugged, unfazed. "Of course I do. Nicawa-san isn't just a colleague—she's a good friend."
"A friend, huh?" Rafta's grin turned wicked, voice dipping low. "So… when're you asking her out?"
Haari choked, air catching like a misfired spell. "HUH?!" His face flared red, hands flailing. "What're you—?!"
"C'mon," Rafta teased, chin on hand, eyes dancing. "All this time together? Don't tell me it hasn't crossed your mind."
"That's not—!" Haari sputtered, steam practically rising from his ears. "It's not like that!"
Rafta's chuckle rolled deep, savoring the meltdown. "Sure, sure—whatever you say, loverboy."
Meanwhile, the kitchen pulsed with life. Oki diced veggies with ninja precision, blades flashing, while Ashi adjusted the curry, a maestro tuning her symphony. Oki peeked over, grinning. "You're doing great, Ashi—this smells divine! What's the secret?"
Ashi smiled, stirring slow, steam curling around her like a halo. "It's my grandmother's recipe. She always said the key is to cook with love and patience."
Oki's grin widened, eyes gleaming. "I can smell the love from here—my stomach's begging already!"
""It's really just about trusting your instincts," Ashi said, chuckling soft. " Recipes help, but sometimes you just feel when something needs adjusting."
"I like that approach," Oki nodded, chopping steady. "That's what makes home cooking hit different."
"Thanks, Habi-san," Ashi said, gratitude glowing in her voice.
Oki waved it off, breezy. "Nah—We're all friends here. Besides, I love cooking too—this is a fun experience for me."
As the kitchen filled with warmth and conversation, Oki glanced at Ashi. "So, what are you most excited about for the competition?"
Ashi paused, ladle still, her gaze softening. "Honestly… just sharing my grandma's recipe. Cooking was something we always did together, and entering this competition feels like a way to honor her memory."
Oki's smile turned tender, warm as the pot's glow. "That's beautiful. She'd be so proud, Ashi."
"I hope so," Ashi murmured, wistful, a quiet star in her eyes.
Oki spun toward the living room, voice booming. "Oi, food's up! Get over here!"
Rafta and Haari traded a look—Rafta smirking, Haari still pink—before ambling over. "You sure?" Rafta asked, feigning hesitation. "Don't wanna crash the party."
"You're not crashing," Ashi said, setting plates with a grin. "You helped, so you have to taste it."
They gathered round the table, curry steaming rich and gold with rice, its aroma a siren's call. Rafta took a bite—then froze, eyes widening like saucers. "Whoa." He stared at Ashi, awestruck. "Nicawa-san, this is insane."
Haari scooped a spoonful, then whistled sharp. "No lie—this could win it all."
Ashi's face flushed, hands twisting her apron. "You really think so?"
Oki grinned, spoon midair. "Absolutely! But more than that, it's the feeling behind it. This meal is special."
Rafta hoisted his glass, voice ringing like a toast in a grand hall. "To friendship—and epic food!"
Everyone clinked their glasses together, laughter filling the room. As the evening carried on, Ashi felt a deep warmth settle in her chest.
No matter what happened at the competition, she already felt like she had won something far more valuable—the support of her friends.
The day of the competition dawned bright and clear,
Ashi stood near her cooking station, her fingers twitching slightly as she adjusted the knot on her apron. She exhaled, steadying herself.
"Everything looks great," she said, casting a glance at the audience, where Haari sat among the spectators. His presence was a reassuring constant, even if he wasn't allowed to help.
Haari leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, flashing her a confident smile. "We've got this. Just remember, it's about showcasing what we worked so hard on. Stick to the plan, and it'll all come together."
She nodded, a small flicker of determination lighting in her chest. The loudspeakers crackled to life, announcing the official start of the competition. The moment had come.
As the clock started ticking, Ashi fell into rhythm—chopping, whisking, sautéing, all while carefully balancing flavors and textures. The heat from the stovetop warmed her skin, sweat beading at her temples as she worked with precision.
From the crowd, Haari watched in quiet pride. His eyes traced her movements, seeing the way she poured her heart into each step.
Then, his phone buzzed.
Pulling it out, he saw Rafta flashing on the screen. His brows furrowed as he picked up. "Hey, Rafta, what's up?"
"Haari, I'm really sorry to interrupt, but we've got an urgent issue at the office," Rafta's voice was laced with stress. "A major client's project has hit a snag. The team is swamped, and they need you now."
Haari's stomach clenched. His gaze darted back to Ashi, who was plating her dish, oblivious to the conversation happening on the other end of the line.
"But the competition—Nicawa-san counting on me to be here," he said, lowering his voice.
"I get it, man, but this is critical. If we don't fix this immediately, we could lose the client," Rafta pressed. "I know it's a terrible time, but I really need you."
Haari clenched his jaw. His fingers tightened around his phone.
After a long pause, he exhaled sharply. "Alright. I'll head to the office. Let's hope everything goes smoothly."
One last glance at Ashi. Then, reluctantly, he turned and left.
Ashi looked up missinh Haari from the crowd " Huh where did Kichiro-san go?"
By the time Haari finished resolving the crisis and rushed back, the competition had long since ended. The sky outside had turned a deep shade of navy, speckled with flickering city lights.
Arriving at Ashi's apartment, he knocked firmly on the door. "Nicawa-san? It's me."
Silence.
Frowning, he rang the bell. No answer.
A pang of unease crawled up his spine. He turned to the elderly neighbor standing outside her unit, watching him with concern.
"Nicawa-san hasn't come back yet?" he asked.
The auntie shook her head. "No. She left the competition a while ago. She should've been back by now… I'm a little worried."
Haari felt his stomach drop.
Without wasting another second, he whipped out his phone and dialed Ashi's number.
Ringing… ringing…
No answer.
His pulse quickened as he took off down the street, searching for any sign of her. He combed through the surrounding areas—cafés, the park, even the quiet alleys she sometimes took shortcuts through. His gut twisted tighter with each passing second.
Then, as he reached the river bridge, his breath hitched.
A lone figure stood at the railing.
The streetlights above cast a dim glow over her frail form, the gentle wind rustling her hair. The slow, defeated way she moved made something inside Haari snap.
No…
Heart hammering, he sprinted forward, but the traffic separating him from the other side of the road was relentless. Cars blurred past, horns blaring as he weaved between them, desperate to reach her.
Then—before he could get there—she moved.
Ashi climbed onto the railing.
And jumped.
Time screeched to a halt.
A visceral chill shot down Haari's spine as he watched her silhouette disappear into the dark waters below.
"NICAWA-SAN!!"