The Old Man's eyes lit up, a laugh bursting out. "Oh! Didn't peg you for a romantic—finally got a girlfriend?"
"No, it's not me," Haari shot back, too quick, hands waving off the notion. "My friend is the one asking about the food shop, not me."
"I knew you don't have a girlfriend," the Old Man chuckled, smirking. " expected as much from you."
Haari bristled, jaw tightening. "That hurts, you know you old geezer. What do you know about me? What if I did have a girlfriend?"
"You? and girlfriend? don't make me laugh," The Old Man doubled over, laughter booming, slapping the counter. " Hard to imagine—sorry, kid!"
Haari's patience snapped. "Shut it!" he barked, voice spiking, chair scraping as he half-stood. "Just answer the damn question—I don't have time for your entertainment."
"Alright, alright—gimme a sec to breathe," the Old Man wheezed, wiping an eye, still grinning. "Couldn't resist."
A Few Moments Later
"Food shops for couples, huh," he said, sobering up, stroking his chin. "Yeah, I know some."
"You do?" Haari leaned in, eyes narrowing, interest piqued.
The Old Man's smirk crept back. "Why are you so eager to know? You don't even have a girlfriend"
"Just tell me," Haari cut in, voice flat, impatience simmering.
"Sector 7," the Old Man said, nodding sagely. "Tons of food joints there—couples swarm it. Tell your 'friend' to check it out."
"Sector 7," Haari echoed, nodding slow, filing it away.
"Yeah," the Old Man went on, leaning back with a sage nod, "tell 'em to hit Sector 7. It's a hotspot for couples—might dig up something juicy there."
Haari exhaled, tension easing a notch. "Thanks, Old Man. That's a big help." His mind ticked—Sector 7, Sunday, Oki, Rafta—a thread to tug.
"Don't mention it," the Old Man said, winking, tossing the rag over his shoulder. "Just doing my part."
Haari shoveled down the last of his meal, broth warm but his thoughts racing. Sector 7 loomed—a chance to crack the Oki-Rafta riddle that'd been gnawing at him. He slid off the stool, leaving a tip, and headed for the door, the night air waiting. But the Old Man wasn't done.
"Oh yeah," he called, grin widening, "gimme your girlfriend's number once you snag one."
Haari froze mid-step, rolling his eyes hard enough to strain them. "Why the hell would I do that?"
"I'll teach her how to keep a man happy," the Old Man shot back, smirk devilish, leaning on the counter like a sage of sin.
Haari's face flushed, irritation flaring. "I don't have one, and even if I did, their is no way in hell, I'd let her near you. Act your age, you old geezer!"
The Old Man cackled, undeterred. "When it comes to that, age doesn't matter anymore. The only thing that matters is stamina," He winked again, a spark in his eye.
Red crept up Haari's neck, anger simmering hot. "Age matters most, you fossil!"
"I've got decades of experience over you," the Old Man countered, chuckling deep. "so it's better for her to get some advice first,"
Haari's fuse blew. "Enough!" he barked, storming out, the door slamming shut with a sharp jingle. The cool night hit him, but his blood boiled, muttering under his breath, "That old coot's lost it—completely unhinged." The Old Man's laugh echoed in his wake, a taunting ghost, but Sector 7 stuck firm—a clue amid the madness.
He trudged home, curiosity and apprehension twisting tight. Rafta and Oki at a couples' spot—what did it mean? The Old Man's double entendres clung like burrs, stoking his fuming march.
The next day, Haari approached Ashi with a bright, almost mischievous expression. "Sector 7, huh? I heard that place has lots of food shops and is quite popular with couples too."
"Uh, yeah… guess so." he tilted his head,
Ashi looking at him, studying him. "Kichiro-san, got any plans for the day off?"
Haari paused, scratching his neck. "Not yet. Why?"
She leaned in, resting her chin on her hands, a grin creeping up. "Well, since you're free… how about we hit Sector 7 together?"
He blinked, thrown. "Huh? Whaaaat?"
"Y'know, scope it out—see what's got everyone buzzing," Ashi said, her grin widening. "You asked the Old Man about it, so don't pretend you're not curious."
Haari tensed, arms crossing quick. "It was just a random question. I don't actually care about that place."
Ashi's smirk sharpened, eyes glinting. "Oh really? Then why're you all jittery?"
"I'm not jittery," he scoffed, chin jutting out, defensive. "I just don't get why we'd bother going."
"Perfect," Ashi chirped, clapping her hands. "Let's dig up the truth—unmask the secret."
Haari's brow furrowed, puzzled. "Truth? Secret? What're you on about, Nicawa-san?"
She leaned closer, voice dropping, determination flashing. "Habi-san and Densi-san. We follow them, crack their little mystery wide open."
He raised an eyebrow, dry as dust. "Follow them? In other words, you're trying to spy on them."
"It's not spying," Ashi protested, waving a hand like she could swat the word away. "I'm just… clearing my doubts on them, that's all."
Haari's eyes narrowed. "Okay, but what if they spot us? Then what?"
"Don't sweat it—I've got it covered," she said, confidence brimming. "Just be ready on the day off. Ok?"
He muttered under his breath, barely audible, "Seems like you have a lot of experience in spying on others."
Ashi cocked her head, squinting. "Hm? You say something?"
"Nope, nothing," Haari said, too fast, turning to his desk, the Oki-Rafta riddle now a mission he couldn't dodge.
Sunday hit Sector 7 with a buzz—streets alive with chatter, small cafes spilling warm light, food stalls pumping out grilled skewers and fresh bread.
The air hummed with savory scents, laced with floral whiffs from passing couples. Cozy, chaotic, vibrant. Haari melted into the crowd, hands in his pockets, but his stomach churned. Tailing people like this… feels off. He couldn't shake the itch—this wasn't his style.
A sudden poke at his back jolted him, a yelp escaping. "Hey, why're you jumping like that?" Ashi's voice lilted, dripping amusement.
Haari exhaled hard, spinning to her. "You scared the hell outta me," he muttered, still twitchy, pulse kicking.
"Scared you? Geez, loosen up already," she teased, tilting her head. Then she caught his stare. "What? Something on my face?"
He shook his head, eyes flicking off her outfit—casual but sharp, a jacket and scarf that popped against the gray day. "No, just… your clothes."
Ashi frowned, tugging at her sleeve. "Do I look weird?"
"Nah, they look good on you," Haari said, blunt and offhand, no filter.
Her cheeks flushed pink, a rare crack in her swagger. "Oh… uh, thanks," she mumbled, scratching her cheek, thrown.
Haari blinked, replaying his words, then coughed awkwardly. "Wait—did that come out wrong? I didn't mean—"
"No, no," Ashi cut in fast, waving it off, flustered. "You're fine—totally fine." She crossed her arms, rallying quick. "Anyway, aren't we veering off mission here?"
He snapped back, focus sharpening. "Right. Over there."
Ashi followed his nod. Oki stood at the street corner, poised, waiting. She was a vision—beige coat soft over an elegant dress, hair loose and swaying in the breeze, a far cry from her office armor. Effortless, striking.
"Habi-san's really dressed up today," Ashi whispered, peering from their spot behind a stall, her voice tinged with awe.
"Yeah," Haari murmured, eyes locked, studying her like a puzzle piece clicking into place.
A sharp elbow jabbed his gut—oof!—doubling him over. "Gha—!"
"Quit staring so hard at her," Ashi smirked, pulling back, her eyes glinting with mischief.
Haari rubbed his side, wincing. "Sorry—it's just… first time seeing her out of the office, all dolled up like that."
Ashi's smirk stretched wide. "So you do have a crush on Habi-san."
"No, I don't," Haari sighed, rubbing his side. "And why do you always jump to that conclusion whenever I say anything about Habi-san?" His brows furrowed in irritation. "If I had a crush on her, I wouldn't be spying on her like this. I'd just ask her out myself."
Ashi's smirk faltered, a flicker of something unsaid crossing her face, but she swallowed it fast. Before Haari could prod, Rafta sauntered up, hands in his pockets, casual as a Sunday stroll. "Sorry I'm late," he drawled, unfazed, closing the gap to Oki.
Ashi shook her head, snapping back. "Here we go—showtime. Let's see what they're up to."
From their perch behind a stall—stacked high with bread and skewer smoke—Haari and Ashi strained to catch the edge in Oki's voice, sharp as a blade. "You're late? We agreed to meet at 7 a.m., and you're arriving at 8 a.m.? That's an hour behind schedule!"
Ashi leaned closer, voice low. "Looks like they're arguing. Any idea what it's about?"
Haari shook his head, eyes fixed. No idea. Let's keep our distance, though. We don't want to get caught."
Ashi grinned, sly. "Relax, we got this."
Rafta scratched his head, sheepish but breezy. "I said sorry, didn't I? I just overslept a little."
"A bit?!" Oki's voice spiked, arms folding tight, her coat swishing with the motion. "You always pull this."
"Won't happen again—promise," Rafta said, waving it off. "C'mon, let's go."
"Go where?" Oki shot back, eyes narrowing. "Do you even have a plan?"
Rafta blinked, blank-faced, like a deer in headlights. "Uh… wherever you want?"
Oki's sigh was pure exasperation, a hand pinching her brow. "So, in other words, you have no plan for today."
He frowned, genuinely stumped. "But why should I make a plan? Didn't you say you already had one?"
She rolled her eyes skyward, patience fraying. "I did—because last time you planned, you dragged me to a water park!"
"I took you there because you said you liked swimming." Rafta protested, hands up.
"Yeah, but not in freezing winter!"Oki snapped, voice rising. "You only chose it because the tickets were cheap!"
Rafta groaned, theatrical and loud. "Can we not fight? Let's just… go somewhere, yeah?"
Oki massaged her temples, a long exhale hissing out. "Fine. I've got some places in mind. Let's hit those."
Rafta nodded, lazy but agreeable. "Works for me."
From their hideout, Haari muttered, "Same old chaos," while Ashi stifled a snort, her grin widening.
Oki and Rafta veered toward a small store, its windows plastered with vibrant posters. Inside, shelves burst with manga—colors popping, titles screaming. Oki's stride lightened, a spark flickering in her eyes as she scanned the racks.
"Huh? A manga store?" Haari whispered, peering from behind a display of trinkets, brow creasing. "I didn't know they read manga."
"Let's check it out,"Ashi said, darting out from their cover with zero pause, her scarf swishing.
"Wait—Nicawa-san!" Haari hissed, lunging to grab her, but she was already through the door. He cursed under his breath and followed, slipping in behind her.
They slid to the far side of a shelf, opposite Oki and Rafta, peeking through gaps between stacked volumes—spines worn, pages whispering as they shifted for a view. Haari's heart thudded; Ashi's grin twitched.
Rafta stood by Oki, scratching his head, voice drifting over"A manga store? Why did we come here?"
"I just wanted to check something," Oki said, eyes tracing the shelves with laser focus, fingers brushing a row of titles. She paused, then sighed, shoulders dipping. "But it seems it hasn't come to market yet."
Rafta cocked his head, curious but clueless "Which manga are you looking for?"
"Nehora," Oki replied, crisp and simple, like it explained everything.
Rafta ran his fingers along the spines of the books, checking. After a while, he turned back to her. "Hmm, there's nothing here with that name. Are you sure about the title?"
"Yeah," Oki said, a flicker of disappointment tightening her jaw, frustration edging in. "Well, let's just go. Their is no point in wasting time here."
"You sure?" Rafta offered, hands in pockets. We could check another store if you want,"
Oki shook her head, hair swaying soft. "We're not here to shop. Let's move."
They turned for the exit, Oki's coat flaring, Rafta trailing with a lazy nod. Haari and Ashi ducked low, waiting a beat before scrambling after them—silent, swift, dodging a clerk's glance, their shadows blending into the crowd outside.
Ashi nudged Haari, whispering, "Nehora? She's got taste."
Haari grunted, eyes on their targets. "Didn't see that coming."
Their next stop was a restaurant—cozy yet sleek, warm light spilling from hanging bulbs, the air thick with sizzling meat and herb-laced steam. Wooden tables gleamed under a minimalist setup, booths hugging the walls, and a wide window bathed the place in golden sun, softening the hum of chatter into a welcoming buzz.