The Old Man frowned, catching Haari's ping-pong stare. "What's your deal?"
Haari leaned in, voice dropping to a conspiratorial hiss, like he'd cracked a scandal. "Don't tell me… she's your wife?"
The Old Man squinted, gruff and baffled. "Hah? What're you yammering about?"
Haari exhaled sharp, shaking his head, disbelief spilling out. "No way—you? You landed her? Sorry, but that's… so unreal!"
The Old Man rolled his eyes, a smirk tugging his weathered lips. "Of course, I did! We've been married for decades!"
Haari gaped, jaw slack, mind racing. Decades?! This guy's a legend… or a wizard. No—both! The ramen shop suddenly felt like a stage for a tale too wild to believe.
Haari rubbed his temples, a reeling from revelation. "Tch… Old Man, I pegged you for a regular ramen slinger. Turns out you're the final boss all along!"
The Old Man smirked, arms crossing over his apron, a grizzled king on his turf. "Heh. Now you know, brat. But don't get any ideas—she's mine."
Before he could bask further, the door slid open, and she stepped in—grace incarnate, her white hair a shimmering cascade catching the glow, her curves swaying like a queen oblivious to the chaos she'd sparked. She hadn't caught their whispers, her eyes fixed on her husband with a gentle tilt of her head.
"What're you two muttering about?" she asked, voice smooth, a playful lilt dancing in it.
The Old Man stiffened, a bead of sweat glinting. "Nothin'. Kid spouts nonsense—usual stuff."
Haari scoffed, arms crossing tight, smirk sharp. "Real smooth, Old Man. Oscar-worthy."
"So," she said, gliding closer, her gaze flicking to Haari, "who's this young man you've kept the shop open for?"
The Old Man grinned, jabbing a thumb at Haari. "Meet my loyal sucker—Haari the Kichiro!"
"Haari the Kichiro? That's a mouthful," she mused, a teasing spark in her eyes.
Haari's jaw dropped, voice pitching high as he shot up. "That's not my name, you old hag! It's Haari Kichiro—and what's this 'loyal sucker' crap?! I'm not hauling your legacy, got it?!"
"Hm, Haari Kichiro—better than the last one," she quipped, unfazed, sliding onto the stool beside him with a grace that made the air hum. She shot her husband a raised brow, unconvinced but amused.
The Old Man coughed, loud and forced, scrambling to pivot. "Uh—why're you here? And what's with all this packing? You goin' somewhere?"
She leaned on the counter, hands on hips, a playful smile curling her lips. "Yep—on a trip."
The Old Man's brow furrowed, Haari spone pausing mid-air. "Trip? With who?"
A the Old Lady leaned in, her white hair glinting, eyes twinkling like stars. "With you, of course," she said, voice smooth, excitement bubbling.
Haari watched, smirking, as the Old Man's face morphed—confusion creasing his brow, then shock widening his eyes. Oh, this is gonna get good, Haari thought, leaning back, a spectator to the drama.
The Old Man's eyes narrowed, suspicion sharpening his gruff tone. "Me? Where's this comin' from all of a sudden?"
Her smile gleamed, mischief dancing as she leaned closer. "Didn't you say, way back, you wanted to visit Russia on our honeymoon?"
He faltered, scratching his neck, voice dipping. "Umm… yeah, but that was years ago."
She clasped her hands, beaming wide, unveiling her prize. "Guess what? Yesterday, when I went to shopping at the mall—there was a contest. Free tour ticket to Russia for the winner. I went all out, and won it—just for you, honey!"
The Old Man's jaw dropped, a faint "Whaaaat?" escaping as he gripped the counter, disbelief etching his weathered face. "Why didn't you tell me that yesterday?!"
She chuckled, resting a hand over his, her touch light but firm. "I wanted to surprise you—so kept it under wraps 'til now."
He blinked, overwhelmed, fingers tightening on the wood. "Okay, but… ain't we too old for a honeymoon trip?"
Haari, silent 'til now, piped up, smirk sharp. "You are."
: Don't look so heartbroken, kid," he said, tapping the counter with a playful thud. "I might be silver now, but I've still got the pep I had back then—trust me. :
The Old Man shot him a glare—daggers in his squint—but his wife sighed soft, shaking her head, her glow unshaken. "Didn't you say dreams don't age, no matter how much time passes?"
He winced, a flush creeping up his neck. "I said that to impress you back then! Why're you takin' it so serious now?"
Haari propped his chin on his hand, grin widening. "Old man, I'm pretty sure you'll find lots of empty tiffins over there. Why don't you go and open your stall there?"
The Old Lady's brow arched, a curious tilt. "Empty tiffins?"
Old Man exhaled, rubbing his temples, a weathered king on his throne. "But I've got enough tiffins here to fill—"
His wife cut in, her hand squeezing his with a soft strength, her white hair glinting like a silver thread. "And you'll have new ones there," she said, voice warm, eyes twinkling. "It's an adventure—a new chapter. Never too late for that, and It's not like we are staying their we be back soon."
Silence fell, heavy and still. The Old Man's gaze drifted—over the wooden counter, scuffed from years of bowls; the shelves, jars gleaming with spices; the evening hum seeping through the walls, a quiet heartbeat of the world outside. His brow furrowed, then eased, a battle playing out in the lines of his face.
Then, his shoulders slumped, tension melting. "Well…" he muttered, lips quirking into a small, grudging smile, "might be an interesting ride." He glanced at her, voice softening. " But still—why didn't you tell me sooner?"
Her grip tightened, a lifeline laced with mischief. "Because I wanted it to be a surprise, and sometimes the best surprises come when you least expect them."
Haari watched, perched on his stool, as the Old Man's storm settled—frustration fading to thought, then a quiet nod of surrender. He stood, stretching with a groan, arms high. "Looks like you've got a new journey ahead, Old Man," he said, voice light but warm. "Hope it's as good as you dreamed of."
The Old Man let out a deep breath, eyes flicking to his wife—her radiant calm, her steady hand—before a chuckle rumbled free, shaking his head like he couldn't believe it himself.
Haari stepped toward the door, the couple's laughter swelling behind him—a bright, bubbling sound weaving into the night. It mingled with the street's distant chatter, the clink of dishes settling, the lingering warmth of broth and bonds—an evening tipping into something new, a ramen tale ready to roam.
A few days had slipped by since the ramen shop's warm farewell, and Ashi's apartment buzzed with a different kind of chaos. "Ah—like this, then this—or, AHHH!" Ashi yelped, tumbling to the floor with a thud, the long, flowing sari she'd bought tangling around her like a caught in a comedic snare. "Ow… this is way harder than I thought," she groaned, sprawled amid the pure red sari with edge of golden half hand wide line around, a defeated pile of determination.
She glared at her phone, propped against a cushion, the tutorial video paused on a poised woman draping a sari with effortless grace. "She made it look so easy—why am I this bad?!" Grabbing the device, she scrolled to the description: 'Wearing a sari on your first try is tough—having a companion makes it a better experience. Good luck! Don't lose hope—you've got this!'
"Companion, huh?" Ashi muttered, rubbing her bruised knee. "Grandma's off visiting her nephew for days… so who else?" She dive into deep thinking for match companion for her to help then her eyes lit up, a spark flaring. "I know who's perfect for this!" She snatched the phone again, dialing with purpose.
Few moments later
Ding-dong! The doorbell jolted her from her daze. Ashi shuffled over, sari back in shoping bag, and swung the door open. Haari stood there—casual tee, jeans, a lazy grin—blissfully unaware. But Ashi's earlier spark fizzled, replaced by a sinking oh no. I didn't plan to call Kichiro-san here… but I did it without thinking!
Earlier
Ring… ring… The line clicked. "Hello, Habi-san!" Ashi chirped.
"Uhm, Ashi? Calling me on a random day—what's up?" Oki's voice crackled through, curious but rushed.
"By any chance… are you free today?" Ashi asked, hope teetering.
"Not really—why?" Oki replied, a faint clatter in the background.
"Oh… okay, I'll hang up then," Ashi said, deflating.
"Wait!" Oki cut in. "If it's important, I can squeeze some time—what's going on?"
Ashi fidgeted, twisting the sari's edge. "Not super important… just, uh, I'm trying to wear a sari. and It's my first time so, I thought you might know how wear a sari and—help me out?"
Oki hummed, thoughtful. "Yeah, I've got experience—I wore for years back in the past and I can totally imazine what you're going through now. It's a nightmare for single person, especially when it's your first go. I hate to say it, but my hands are full today—so I can't swing by."
"Ah… okay," Ashi mumbled, shoulders slumping.
"But hey!" Oki perked up. "Since it's your first shot, I can toss you some tips. If they work, great—if not, next time I'll teach you in person, step-by-step!"
"Okay," Ashi nodded, clinging to the lifeline.
Oki's tips echoed—"Pinch here, fold there, tuck tight"—but Ashi's hands fumbled, the sari twisting into a stubborn knot. She flopped onto the couch, exhausted, a defeated by fabric. A baby can't walk the day it's born—no matter how much you show it. I'm just crawling here… Her phone slipped from her grip, landing screen-up—and, unnoticed, her elbow nudged it, dialing Haari by mistake.
At present
"So," Haari said, stepping inside, hands in pockets, "you need help moving stuff to clean up, hah?"
Ashi blinked, brain scrambling "Yeah," she blurted, a white lie tumbling out, "they're… heavy. Too much for me alone." She forced a smile, heart thumping. Furniture it is—better than admitting the sari mess!
She'd blurted nonsense into the phone when he picked up, a panicked jumble after accidentally dialing his call with not knowing herself. What have I done?! she thought, her earlier sari excitement draining into a deadpan stare. Now, here he was, and her lie about cleaning had spiraled out of control.
Haari dove right in, hefting a heavy chair with ease, the apartment's clutter shifting under his steady hands. Ashi stood by the doorway, broom limp in her grip, her expression flat as betrayed by fate. "Great… stuck cleaning on my day off. Lucky me," she muttered, glaring at the broom like it had mocked her sari flop.
But with Haari's help, the place transformed—dust vanishing, floors gleaming faster than she'd dreamed. He wiped his forehead, glancing around with a satisfied nod. "Now," he said, "just this couch left. After that, we're done, Nicawa-san."
"Hm?" Ashi blinked, jolted from the work she was doing in kitchen.
"The couch's a bit heavy for me alone," Haari added, his easy grin softening the air. "Can you help move it?"
"Yeah, sure," she nodded, shaking off the haze, she go to the other side of the couch crouching to grip the couch's base as he directed.
"Ready?" he asked, voice calm.
"Ready."
"Alright—one, two, three—go!"
They lifted—crack!—a sharp snap split the air, and Ashi's back seized, a gasp tearing from her. "Ahaa—!" She dropped her side, stumbling back, hands clutching her waist, pain spiking like a battle wound.
"Nicawa-san?!" Haari's voice sharpened, dropping his end to rush over, crouching low. His hands hovered, trembling slightly, unsure—Should I touch her?—his eyes wide with concern.