(Time: 6:42 PM, the day of the date)

Zane sat in the passenger seat, fingers drumming against the dashboard as they neared the curb. “You know,” he said, “this car kind of screams, ‘I win street races on weekends and commit tax fraud on weekdays.’”

Kira smirked, pulling her sunglasses off with one hand. “the taxman hasn’t caught me yet. That’s called skill, not crime.”

Zane tilted his head. “Wait—a real felony? Not like, I didn’t tip the waiter one?”

Kira blinked. “You’re supposed to tip them?”

The car rolled smoothly into the parking spot.

Zane stepped out, eyebrows raised. “Yeah…”

Kira followed, locking the car behind her. “Don’t they get paid enough already?”

“I think most of their income actually comes from the tips,” Zane replied, slinging his hands into his pockets.

Kira paused. “Do they pay taxes on that?”

Zane shrugged. “Maybe? Maybe not? I dunno.”

“So it’s like… tax-free money?” Kira narrowed her eyes at the idea.

Zane gave her a look. “Why do you care? You fake your taxes anyway.”

She clicked her tongue. “Yeah, but they’re getting away with it.”

Zane narrowed his eyes. “Wait—have you ever been caught?”

Kira turned toward the restaurant doors. “That’s not the point of the argument.”

“…Right. What is the point?”

She paused. “I forgot.”

Zane stared at her. “Wait, how?”

“I don’t know. Just happened,” Kira said with a light shrug.

They stopped in front of the glowing neon sign of Spicy Haven. Zane tilted his head at the bold red and orange letters pulsing above them, casting warm hues onto the sidewalk like some kind of spicy omen.

He let out a breath, eyes scanning the crowded windows. Inside, the hum of chatter, bursts of laughter, and the rhythmic clink of chopsticks created a lively, welcoming atmosphere.

“Spicy Haven, huh?” Kira stretched, her hands clasped behind her head. “Man, I love a place that openly challenges your taste buds to a duel. I like it already.”

Zane rolled his eyes. “It’s just a hotpot place. Don’t make it sound like we’re about to storm a fortress.”

Kira snorted. “You clearly underestimate the power of a good spice burn. I’m starting to think you lack true culinary courage.”

Before he could argue, Zane spotted Kimiko through the glass window, sitting at a booth in the corner. She was sipping from a tall glass of iced tea, her fingers drumming on the table.

“She doesn’t look happy,” Zane muttered under his breath. Kira, who was casually strolling behind him, smirked. “Well, you’re just off by 45 minutes. Scratch that—43 to be exact.”

Zane groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re not helping, you know. It’s not my fault—”

Before he could finish, Kira cut him off with a teasing grin. “It’s not your fault that you spent 30 minutes in front of the mirror fixing your hair.”

Zane turned to her, his face reddening slightly. “Hey, I gotta look presentable!”

Kira shrugged, brushing past him to push the door open. “Sure you do. Now go on and present yourself.”

Zane narrowed his eyes at her. “What about you? You’re coming too, you know.”

Kira tilted her head, looking past him toward the interior of the restaurant. “I saw something I need to check out first. Don’t worry, I’ll join you two before you can even miss me. Promise.”

With that, Kira slipped through the door and veered off toward a tank of lobsters near the corner. Zane sighed and made his way toward Kimiko, hoping to salvage the situation. Meanwhile, Kira’s exploration began.

She stopped in front of a large lobster tank near the kitchen, crouching to peer at the crustaceans inside. “Hey there, little guys,” she said, tapping on the glass with a curious look. “What’s it like being a fancy dinner? Must be tough. Do they at least let you unionize?”

One of the lobsters twitched its antennae, and Kira leaned closer with a grin. “Oh, so you do have thoughts. Blink twice if you’re planning a tank breakout. I’ll keep it secret.”

A small nudge to her side made her glance back. A boy, barely eight, blinked up at her.

Kira gasped, exaggeratedly clutching her chest. “Oh no! Sorry, kiddo, didn’t mean to block the escape route.”

The boy shrugged. “It’s okay.”

Kira squatted down to his level, giving him an appraising look. “Wait, hold on. Are you lost? Or do they let kids roam free here? Or—” she leaned in dramatically, narrowing her eyes, “are you actually a really small man, and I’m being super rude right now?”

The boy blinked before bursting into laughter. “No, no!

Kira grinned, nodding sagely. "Good to know. So, where's your adult backup? Siblings? Parents? Lobster overlords?"

"My sister," the boy said with a sigh.

“Ohhh, I see,” Kira nodded sagely, sitting cross-legged on the floor. “But wait… if you’re here with your sister, why are you hanging out solo? Did she just ditch you?”

The boy sighed. “She doesn’t really care about what I’m doing.”

Kira clicked her tongue and leaned in conspiratorially. “Yeah, sisters can be the worst sometimes, huh? But hey, she’s family. You… kind of have to roll with it. Just make sure she knows you can beat her at rock-paper-scissors if she gets too bossy.”

The boy grinned. “You’re funny. Are you here alone?”

Kira’s eyes widened in sudden realization. “Oh no! I totally forgot what I was here for!” She jumped up, flashing the boy a peace sign. “It was great talking to you, kid, but I’ve got a good impression to make. Stay safe, don’t let the lobsters scare you!”

She hurried off toward Zane and Kimiko, leaving the boy laughing behind her.

Zane slid into the seat across from Kimiko like a man trying not to disturb a sleeping lion. She was already there, arms crossed, eyebrows raised, and an aura of “you’re screwed” radiating off her like heat from the hotpot burner.

“First. You’re late,” she said, voice low, sharp enough to cut tofu. “And after disappearing last night, no less. “Second. Care to explain why Yamada called me in a panic?” she snapped. “Saying some ‘crazy-ass cyborg’ dragged you out of the car like it was GTA. What the hell happened?”

Zane scratched the back of his head. “So, funny story. I got home last night and found a very angry, very metal half-man, half-Sasquatch waiting in my living room like he paid rent.”

Kimiko narrowed her eyes. “Why would he be in your house?”

Zane leaned towards her with a low voice. “I think he was after my Netflix password.”

She gave him a flat look. “Zane.”

“Okay, okay,” he said, leaning in. “He was there for me. Big guy, shiny limbs, huge overcompensating sword. He went for me and almost crushed Christopher in the process.”

Kimiko blinked. “Christopher?”

“My armchair,” Zane said solemnly. “Leather, supportive, emotionally available. Unlike Gerald."

She blinked again. “Gerald.”

"The chair at your place. A bit insecure," he said.

Kimiko stared at him. “Wow. That lightning really deep-fried your brain, huh?”

Zane leaned back. “Yea...”

“Uh-huh. Please, continue your gripping tale of homicidal interior decorators.”

Zane smirked. “So the guy comes at me, right? I barely manage to dodge, end up frying half my house, and sprint into the night like I’m late for a midnight yoga class. Then I passed out in a junkyard.”

Kimiko gave a long sigh. “Zane, this is serious. You could’ve died.”

“Yeah, but then who would keep Gerald company? You clearly don’t appreciate him.”

She groaned and put her face in her hands.

“I’m just saying,” Zane added, “you don’t bounce back from full-on supersoldiers kicking down your door like it’s a boss battle.”

Kimiko shook her head. “We have to do something about this.”

“Already did,” Zane said, confidently popping a shrimp in his mouth.

Kimiko narrowed her eyes. “What exactly did you do?”

“Found someone who can help,” he said between chews.

She raised an eyebrow. “And where is this mysterious someone?”

Zane glanced around. “…Right about that. I… actually don’t know where she went. She said she had to ‘do something important,’ which is either really badass or incredibly stupid.”

“Sorry—didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

Kimiko flinched and turned, surprised by the sudden appearance of a blonde, confident girl in a dark jacket. Kira offered a casual grin, sliding into the booth beside Kimiko like she’d always belonged there.

“Hello. Kimiko, right?” she said, offering a hand. “Very nice to finally meet you. This guy right here”—she tilted her head toward Zane—“has talked so much about you.”

Kimiko hesitated, blinking as she reached out to shake Kira’s hand.

“Oh, and,” Kira added, leaning in a little closer like she was telling a juicy secret, “you didn’t hear it from me, but he’s totally in love with you.”

Zane nearly choked on his water. “Kira!”

“What? I’m just being friendly,” Kira said innocently, flashing Kimiko a wink.

Kimiko stared at Zane, one eyebrow raised as her expression teetered between amused and flustered. “Is that so?”

“No!” Zane blurted. “I mean—not no, just—not the way she’s making it sound! Kira, please.”

Kira leaned back with a satisfied smirk. “Relax. I’m just teasing. You two are adorable.”

Kimiko’s arms uncrossed, her tone still skeptical but far less heated. “Right. And what exactly is going on here?”

“Oh, introductions!” Zane waved between them. “Kimiko, this is Kira. She… helped me out with my situation.”

“Found him half-dead,” Kira said casually, flipping open the menu. “Patched him up. Let him sleep on my couch. Now he follows me around like a loyal raccoon.”

“Not exactly,” Zane muttered.

Kimiko’s brows furrowed. “Wait—half-dead?!”

“Zombie-level,” Kira confirmed. “Still smelled better than expected.”

Zane gave her a look. “Can you not?”

Kimiko shot him a glare. “Why didn’t you tell me that?”

Zane shrugged. “I didn’t want you to freak out.”

“Well, newsflash, I’m freaking out now.”

“See?” Zane looked at Kira. “This is why I said not to tell her.”

Kira tilted her head. “Wait, I thought I shouldn’t mention the chair named Christopher. Oh, sorry about that.”

Kimiko blinked.

Kira grinned. “Don’t worry, he’s a real one.”

Zane buried his face in his hands.

Kira turned her attention back to Kimiko. “So… What’s the story with you two? Long-lost soulmates? Enemies with unresolved tension? Secret spies pretending to be students?”

Zane groaned. “I don’t know what is going on here.”

“I’m serious,” Kira said. “The chemistry’s wild. Feels like I’m third-wheeling on a K-drama date.”

Kimiko blushed faintly but held her ground. “That’s none of your business.”

“Which means it’s definitely juicy,” Kira teased.

A waiter approached the table with a polite smile in place as he was about to collect their order.

Kira looked up at him seriously. “Hey, quick question—are you legally obligated to declare your tips?”

The waiter blinked. “Uh… excuse me?”

Zane immediately stepped in. “Thank you, we’ll call you again once we’ve decided on something.”

The waiter gave Kira a wary glance, nodded, and walked away a little faster than necessary.

Kira casually raised two fingers, pointed them at her eyes, then at the waiter’s back. “I’m watching you.”

Zane sighed. “Right… Let’s look at the menu.”

Kimiko glanced between them, confusion written all over her face.

Kira grinned. “Great idea.”

“Oooh, what’s the spiciest thing they’ve got?” She said, instantly scanning the menu like it was a battle plan. “‘Dragon’s Breath Special’? Sold out.”

Kimiko raised an eyebrow. “Why would you choose food based on how it sounds?”

“Because. If it doesn’t threaten my organs, what’s the point of it?”

Kimiko smirked. “Can you even handle that much spice? Bet you can’t.”

Kira looked up. “Duh… Bet I can.”

Zane groaned. “No. No bets.”

“Loser pays,” Kimiko said.

“Yes,” Kira agreed instantly.