As Hisashi drove through the neon-lit streets, Xiangua leaned back in her seat, a sly smile creeping onto her face. Her curiosity finally got the better of her, and she broke the silence. "So, what do you think about him?" she asked, her tone laced with playful mischief.
Hisashi's grip on the steering wheel tightened as she replayed the night's events in her mind. "I don't know, Xiangua. He's right about needing allies, but I've always handled things on my own. Depending on someone else isn't my style."
"Ugh, Hisashi, come on," Xiangua groaned dramatically, throwing her hands up. "You can't keep living like a lone wolf forever. Allies aren't just about survival; sometimes they're about making life more... interesting."
Hisashi cast her friend a sideways glance, skeptical. "Interesting?"
"Yes!" Xiangua exclaimed, leaning forward with excitement. "Did you see the way he looked at you? Like he was about to combust. And don't even get me started on that protective streak. That's pure relationship material right there."
"Relationship?" Hisashi's voice betrayed a mix of disbelief and amusement. "Xiangua, this isn't some romantic drama."
"Oh, but it could be," Xiangua teased, waggling her eyebrows. "Think about it. You're both fiery, passionate about cars, and clearly have some unspoken connection. You could be the ultimate power couple of the racing scene."
Hisashi sighed, rolling her eyes but unable to suppress a small smile. "You have such a vivid imagination."
"It's not just imagination," Xiangua countered, her tone growing more earnest. "You've been through so much, Hisashi. You deserve someone who sees you for who you are, someone who doesn't shy away from your strength but admires it."
Hisashi's fingers drummed against the steering wheel as she considered her friend's words. "I'm not saying you're wrong," she admitted, "but I'm not sure I'm ready for all that. Right now, I'm focused on proving myself."
"And there's no reason you can't do both," Xiangua pressed. "Letting someone in doesn't mean you're any less strong or independent. It just means you have someone who'll stand by you, even when the road gets tough."
Hisashi sighed again, her mind a whirl of conflicting thoughts. "We'll see," she said finally, her tone soft but noncommittal.
Xiangua smirked, satisfied with the slight crack in her friend's walls. "Fine, but mark my words, Hisashi. One day, you'll thank me for pushing you to take a chance."
"Or I'll blame you when it all goes wrong," Hisashi quipped, a playful glint in her eye.
Xiangua laughed, her confidence unwavering. "Either way, it'll make for a hell of a story."
_________
If there was one thing Hen Akoto Takawara was known for, it was his relentlessness when he set his sights on something—or someone. And right now, his focus was fixed on her.
For days, he had made the diner his second home, either waiting patiently in his car or strolling in for a quick meal. Sometimes, he came alone, his quiet demeanor drawing little attention as he scanned the room for her. Other days, he brought along the team, or Alexander, whose boisterous energy filled the space with life and easy banter.
The diner, once just another spot on the map, had become a regular pit stop for Hen and his crew. What began as casual visits soon became strategic drop-ins, conversations peppered with subtle nudges for her answer, for her to join them, for her to step into their world fully.
And Hen, ever persistent, orchestrated it all without making it seem deliberate. He lingered just long enough to catch her attention, his dark eyes speaking volumes even when his words were sparse. His visits weren't just about the food or camaraderie—it was about her.
She had become the focal point of his determination, the one person who had rattled his usually composed exterior. Her sharp wit and unapologetic attitude had ignited something within him, and he wasn't about to let her slip away without a fight.
For Hen Akoto Takawara, the stakes were high. It wasn't just about adding a skilled driver to his team or proving himself as a leader—it was about the undeniable pull she had on him, the magnetic force that drew him back to the diner, day after day.
_______
The diner buzzed with its usual morning activity as Hisashi found herself once again serving the faces of the DFurious Team. Their leader, the red-haired man, had become a regular customer, often accompanied by Alexander, the brown-haired guy, and other team members. Their visits had turned into a daily routine, trying to strike conversations with her, and Hisashi had been doing her best to evade their persistent questions.
Hisashi knew Hen Akoto Takawara wouldn't let this go. Alexander, as he had introduced himself during their first encounter, had hinted at his friend's unrelenting persistence. This morning proved no different. As she wiped down the counter and prepared for the first round of customers, the unmistakable gleam of the White S14 pulled into the parking lot.
From her vantage point, she saw Hen step out alone. For the past week, he had always been accompanied by Alexander or other members of his crew, but today was different. The quiet confidence he exuded felt heavier, as if his usual charm carried an undertone of purpose.
The bell above the door chimed softly as he entered, and with a polite "Morning," he made his way to his usual spot in the right corner of the diner. Hisashi couldn't help but notice how he navigated the space with familiarity now, like he had claimed it as his own.
By now, she had picked up on quirks and preferences among the group. Alexander's unwavering loyalty to dark roast coffee, always with a splash of milk and no sugar, accompanied by his habitual side of vegetables. Hen, on the other hand, seemed to live for iced tea, easily finishing three glasses during his visits. His meals were always meat-heavy, with greens only as an afterthought.
She let out a sigh and tucked her notepad into the pocket of her apron, mentally bracing herself. Just as she turned to head toward his table, Joshua, the assistant Kumoku had hired to help in the kitchen, leaned against the counter with a raised brow.
"You okay, His?" he asked, glancing toward Hen with a knowing smirk.
Joshua, despite his earlier attempts at flirting, had become a close ally. They shared the kind of camaraderie that only came from enduring long shifts and kitchen chaos together.
Hisashi followed his gaze, her lips quirking into a small smile. "I've got this, Josh."
"If he gives you trouble—" Joshua began, his tone dripping with mock bravado.
She cut him off with a light laugh. "I'll let you know, don't worry."
Adjusting her dress and taking a moment to steady herself, she grabbed a glass, filled it with iced tea, and approached Hen's table. Setting the drink down, she took out her notepad and clicked her pen, ready to take his order.
"Morning," she greeted casually.
Hen looked up from the menu with a grin, the kind that carried both charm and mischief. "Nice memory," he commented, gesturing to the iced tea.
"You've become quite the regular lately," she replied, arching a brow as she studied him.
"I wonder why?" he quipped, his grin widening as his gaze met hers.
Despite his playful demeanor, Hisashi noticed the weariness in his eyes—the faint dark circles beneath them and the slight redness in the whites. It was clear he hadn't slept much, and for a moment, she wondered what was keeping him up. But the air between them remained light, and she decided against prying.
"Well, are you going to order or keep me guessing?" she asked, her tone teasing as she tapped the pen against the notepad.
Hen leaned back in his chair, the grin softening into something more genuine. "Maybe I'm just here for the iced tea and good company."
Hisashi couldn't help but smirk at his response. "Well, in that case, the iced tea is on the house. The company? You'll have to work for that."
Her quick wit earned a laugh from Hen, and for a brief moment, the tension of his sleepless nights seemed to lift.
Hisashi's attention momentarily shifted as Maru, the other server, strolled in with a friendly wave, heading straight for the cash register to clock in. Maru's presence always brought a sense of camaraderie to the diner. He was reliable, efficient, and had a knack for lightening the mood during busy shifts. Hisashi appreciated him; he was like a steadfast anchor in the bustling environment.
Yet even with Maru's comforting presence, Xiangua's words echoed in her mind, stirring a sense of unease that she couldn't quite shake. She realized, not for the first time, how her world had become a self-contained bubble. Most of her college years had been consumed by studying, working at the diner, and late-night drives with her uncle through the city streets. While others her age were out cultivating friendships, relationships, and memories, she had stayed within the confines of her carefully constructed life.
Regret whispered at the edges of her thoughts as she reflected on the opportunities she might have missed. Xiangua's enthusiasm for connection and adventure contrasted sharply with her own cautious approach. A longing for something more—a spark of excitement, a genuine connection—simmered quietly within her, though she wasn't sure where to begin.
Seizing a moment of courage, Hisashi decided to bridge the gap that had been forming between her and Hen Akoto. Setting her notepad down on the table, she took a seat across from him. With her chin resting on her hand and her elbow propped up, she adopted a casual yet open posture, her demeanor relaxed but inviting.
Hen glanced up from the menu, startled but intrigued by the shift in her approach. Their eyes met, and for a brief moment, the noise of the diner seemed to fade away. Hisashi couldn't help but notice something peculiar in his gaze—a faint, clear shimmer that danced around the iris of his eyes. It made her wonder, half-playfully, whether he wore contact lenses or had some secret about his vision.
"So, you need glasses?" she teased lightly, her lips curving into a faint smile as she tried to read his reaction.
Hen chuckled softly, his expression warming at her unexpected question. "No, my vision's perfect. But I'll take that as a compliment if it means you're looking closely."
Her grin widened, but there was a flicker of concern behind her playful tone as she observed the tiredness etched into his features. She gestured toward his drink. "You could just go back to sleep and give up whatever's been keeping you up," she suggested, her voice carrying a note of genuine care beneath the teasing words.
Hen leaned back slightly, his grin shifting into a more contemplative expression. "As appealing as that sounds," he began, his voice quiet but steady, "you already know what I said: You need a team."
Hisashi tilted her head, curious. "You're relentless, aren't you?"
"Always," he replied with a confident shrug. "I see potential in you. You're talented, but even the best drivers don't go far alone. A team isn't just backup; it's a family. You don't have to handle everything on your own."
She blinked, his words hitting closer to home than she expected. "I've done fine so far."
"Have you, though?" Hen asked, his tone challenging but not unkind. "Maybe it's time to let someone in, to see how far you can really go with support."
Hisashi's gaze dropped for a moment as she considered his words. The sincerity in his tone was disarming, and for the first time in a while, she felt the faint stirrings of trust toward someone outside her small circle.You're not safe." He placed the menu down.
The air in the diner was charged with tension as Hen Akoto leaned in slightly, his dark eyes fixed on Hisashi with an intensity that was both protective and challenging.
"It's not like these people will murder me—" she began, her tone defiant.
"DriftOne members can do scary stuff," Hen cut in, his voice low and serious. "They have no morals."
Hisashi bristled at his words. "I can take care of myself."
"I'm sure you can," he conceded, leaning back slightly, his gaze steady. "But I don't trust Tawa in this matter."
"Because I'm a woman?" she shot back, her voice laced with annoyance.
Hen shook his head, his expression softening but still resolute. "Let us help you," he said, cutting through her defenses with the weight of his sincerity. "Be part of us. Get to know us and what we do."
In their exchange, a delicate balance of vulnerability and strength played out, and Hisashi found herself drawn to his unwavering determination to protect her. His confidence wasn't condescending; it was genuine, and she could see the risk he was willing to take for her. Yet, her own fierce independence and sense of self-reliance clashed with the offer he was extending.
The morning light filtered through the diner's windows, casting a golden glow over the two of them. The sounds of the bustling establishment seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the shared weight of their conversation. It was as if the diner had become a stage, the stillness between them filled with unspoken emotions and the complexities of the choices ahead.
"I'm no car expert," she remarked, breaking the moment with a softer tone. She glanced out the window at his white S14 parked nearby, the sunlight gleaming off its pristine surface.
Hen followed her gaze, and his lips curved into a faint smile. "I'd argue otherwise," he teased.
"I don't need you to be," Hen replied, turning his attention back to her. "People can buy parts for cars, but talent? That can't be bought—it's forged. And you have that."
His words hung in the air, carrying a weight that was both complimentary and challenging. He leaned back slightly, his fingers playing with the edge of his iced tea glass, his relaxed posture contrasting with the intensity of his words. "Besides, it's not like you don't know the difference between a Nissan 180SX and a Mazda RX-7."
That earned him a soft laugh from Hisashi, a sound that felt unguarded and natural. "Of course I do," she replied, her tone lighter now.
Hen leaned forward again, closing the distance between them just enough to draw her attention fully. "Let's restart," he said, his voice lower but filled with a quiet determination. Extending his hand, he introduced himself with a slight grin. "I'm Hen Akoto Takawara."
Hisashi looked at his outstretched hand, her eyes flickering with hesitation. Social interactions had never been her forte, especially after years of avoiding the kind of attention her name and talent often drew. She had grown comfortable in her solitude, finding solace in her uncle's world and the thrill of the track.
After a pause that felt longer than it was, she finally placed her hand in his, her grip firm and steady. "Hisashi Jung," she said, her voice soft but guarded, her eyes meeting his with a mix of curiosity and caution.
Hen Akoto stared at her in surprise as he swallow the information, "Shin Jung?"
Hen Akoto's laugh softened as he took in her words, his expression shifting to one of understanding and respect. "That doesn't mean I'm good because I'm his daughter. I had to work hard," Hisashi added, her voice steady but carrying an undercurrent of vulnerability.
Hen nodded, his dark eyes meeting hers with unwavering sincerity. "I get that," he said, his tone gentle but firm. "No one earns respect in this world just by their name. It's what you do with it that matters."
Hisashi was taken aback by his response, her usual guarded demeanor momentarily cracking. There was no hint of mockery or condescension in his words—just a genuine acknowledgment of her effort and individuality. For once, she felt seen, not as Shin Jung's daughter, but as herself.
"I've seen what you can do," Hen continued, his voice gaining a hint of excitement. "That race? The way you handled those corners, the control—it's not just skill, it's instinct. That's all you, not your name."
She felt a warmth rise in her chest, a mixture of pride and relief. "Thanks," she said, her voice softer now. "That means more than you know."
Hen's grin widened, his energy contagious. "You've got talent, Hisashi. Real talent. And trust me, I know what it looks like."
She smirked, the tension between them easing into something lighter. "You're laying it on thick, Takawara."
"Hey, I don't do this for just anyone," he shot back with a wink. "Seriously, though, if you're this good now, imagine what you could do with a crew backing you up."
Hisashi tilted her head, considering his words. "And let me guess, that crew is yours?"
Hen laughed, leaning back in his chair. "Of course. Who else?"
The playfulness in his tone brought a smile to her lips, but the sincerity in his eyes left an impression she couldn't ignore. Maybe, just maybe, this wasn't such a bad idea after all.
"Your name mentioned in the group can cause quite a stir, you know," Hen said, his lips curving into a sly grin as he leaned back in his chair, a playful glint in his eyes.
Hisashi rolled her eyes, leaning forward with an exasperated sigh. "Keep it low, will you? I've had enough of fanatics flocking around," she shot back, her tone sharp yet carrying a hint of amusement.
Hen raised his hands in mock surrender, the grin never leaving his face. "Fair enough, but you can't blame me for being impressed. Shin Jung's daughter, handling an S13 like that? It's hard to keep quiet about something like that."
"Try harder," she retorted, though the corners of her mouth twitched upward despite herself.
He chuckled, leaning closer as if sharing a secret. "Alright, alright, your secret's safe with me. But seriously, you've got the skills to back up the name. That's rare."
Her expression softened slightly, a flicker of appreciation crossing her features. "Thanks," she muttered, her voice quieter now.
Hen tilted his head, his grin turning into a warm smile. "No need to thank me, Hisashi. Just keep proving them wrong."
"You ready to order? Let me guess—T-bone, medium rare, with hash browns and two bacon strips," Hisashi quipped, her tone light and confident.
Hen let out a nervous laugh, scratching the back of his head. "You've got me pegged," he admitted, his grin widening as the playful camaraderie between them grew.
Hisashi smirked in response, a glint of mischief in her eyes. "Perks of my job," she said, turning with a gentle sway of her hips as she moved toward the counter where Joshua was busy flipping pancakes. The lively hum of the diner filled the air, complemented by the comforting aroma of sizzling bacon and fresh coffee.
The bell above the diner door jingled as it swung open, announcing Kumoku's arrival. Hisashi's uncle shuffled in, mumbling a gruff but familiar "Morning, morning" under his breath. His sharp eyes scanned the room, immediately landing on Hen Akoto sitting in the corner, engrossed in his phone.
Kumoku's gaze shifted to his niece as he approached, leaning in conspiratorially. "Do I need to start filing for a gun permit?" he teased, his voice low but laced with humor.
Hisashi rolled her eyes, a playful grin tugging at her lips. "Really, Uncle Mo? This early?"
Kumoku chuckled, raising his hands in mock innocence. "Just looking out for my niece," he said, stepping into the kitchen with an amused glint in his eye.
After a few minutes, Hisashi returned to Hen Akoto's table, carrying his plate of food and a fresh glass of iced tea—his first glass already empty. She placed the items down with practiced ease, her smile warm but with a subtle edge of flirtation.