Haruto leaned in with his trademark shit-eating grin, practically bouncing in place with curiosity.
Yuki blinked, then glared. "Didn't we just establish my phone is six floors beneath hell right now?"
Haruto smacked his forehead, laughing. "Oh shit—right! My bad." He turned to Jun, elbowing him playfully. "Yo, back up. I know you've got that class group chat with the perv gallery. Don't lie."
Jun rolled his eyes but didn't argue. "Fine." He pulled his phone from his hoodie pocket, tapping in his passcode with a bored expression. Jun scrolled until he got to the Computer Science - 3rd Level Mayhem group chat.
He smirked to himself before clicking on a picture Yuki definitely didn't know had been posted there.
It was Miss Aiko Tanaka—caught mid-motion, bent forward slightly as she picked up a notebook from the edge of her desk. The tight V-neck crop top she wore clung to every curve. Her waist arched just enough to make any poor soul behind her lose their sanity.
The sunlight pouring through the classroom windows highlighted the soft sheen of her skin, her boobs fully exposed except for her nipples still in her bra. Jun tilted his phone to show Haruto.
"Sweet tits of Tokyo," Haruto exhaled, eyes wide. "I see why Yuki's head over heels. No wonder this boy's phone committed suicide. I'm already hard just lookin' at her—shit—I might actually turn straight for those boobs."
"Enough, dudes! I have better things to do," Yuki growled, dragging a hand down his face. "What did you say Kenji's address was?"
Haruto blinked like he'd just rembered they were on a mission. "Oh—right, right! Kenji's shop is on Tsukigahara Street, near the seventh light, ends right across from a ran place that's always outta pork by noon. It's in Saitama, so you'll wanna catch the red line express—unless you like wasting your life on local trains."
Yuki pulled out a crumpled bus pass from his wallet, eyeing it like it might bite him.
Haruto chuckled and fished out a pen, scribbling the address onto a piece of receipt paper he'd found folded in his pocket.
Then—on a separate, smaller torn slip—he scribbled sothing else. With a smug grin, he folded the second paper twice before sliding it into Yuki's hoodie pocket.
"Show him this one when you get there," Haruto said, his tone suddenly a little more serious. "He'll know you're from . And man... don't do anything stupid when you're there, alright?"
Yuki frowned, pulling out the extra note. "What's the worst that can happen while repairing my phone?"
Jun didn't even look up from his screen. "You, Yuki. You're the worst that can happen."
******
Saitama was hot.
Not just the sumr kind of hot—but the kind that made the air feel like soup and Yuki's soul peel off his skin in slow, humid layers.
His hoodie stuck to his back by the ti he finally made it to Tsukigahara Street. Just as Haruto had said—seventh light, ran shop on the corner, and a rusted sign overhead that read:
"Kenji's Tech Shack: If It's Dead, I'll Raise It."
Yuki raised a brow. "What the hell, is he a necromancer?"
He pushed the glass door open. A bell jingled sowhere in the back, followed by a deep voice muffled behind a wall of computer towers.
"Give a sec! If you touch anything, you buy it—especially if it sparks."
Yuki stood still, surrounded by shelves of phones, cracked screens, tangled wires, and disassembled gadgets that looked like Frankenstein tried making a blender out of a Ga Boy.
A guy erged from the back, grease-streaked fingers wiping down on a black apron. Tall. Sharp eyes. Hair up in a man-bun. A tal pick stuck behind his ear like a cigarette.
"You're not one of my usuals," the man said, eyes narrowing just slightly. "You lost or here for resurrection?"
Yuki reached into his pocket and pulled out the folded paper Haruto had slipped him. He hesitated—then handed it over silently.
The guy took one look at it. His entire face changed.
He didn't smile. He didn't frown either. But his eyes—intense and laser-focused—softened just enough to hint that he knew exactly who had sent Yuki here.
"You're Haruto's friend," he said. "That explains the hoodie in sumr."
Yuki blinked. "Excuse —"
Kenji didn't wait. He turned around and gestured with his head. "Co. Let's see what kind of ss your phone's in."
Yuki followed, weaving between cardboard boxes and soldering fus. He placed the phone—still in its cracked, near-death state—on the counter.
Kenji squinted at it. "Whoa. What'd you do, drop it from orbit?"
"No," Yuki said flatly. "It just decided to unalive itself after too much porn."
Kenji's lips twitched. "Sounds about right."
He popped the case open in seconds, like he was disarming a bomb. Tools clicked and tal clinked as he poked around the fried circuits.
"Y'know," Kenji muttered, "Haruto only sends people here when they've got... interesting problems."
Yuki leaned against the counter. "It's just a broken phone, that is all."
"Well grab a chair dude." Kenji waved his screwdriver to the middle of the workshop where a crooked wooden chair was. Yuki smiled weakly and went over to get it. He dusted it, and then sat on it. "My Uncle Haruto is usually the fun guy. How did you get to know him?"
"He attends the sa boy academy I attend in Tokyo. He is my roommate actually. While you spoke, I heard you say Haruto is your uncle. How old is Haruto exactly?" It was high ti Yuki got so juicy scandal about Haruto to use tease him in the room, asides that, he never knew anything so much about his new roommate.
"Yeah Haruto is just like 21 years old. I'm 35 years. My grandpa went full midlife crisis after sure he was going to die from his smoking habit. He didn't want to die without having the best sex of his life after my grandma passed and then knocked up so bar chick. That's how Haruto happened. So yeah—he's technically my uncle, even though I was already in middle school when he was born."
Damn...
That was hell lot of information.
"That's ssed up shit."
Kenji shrugged, still focused on the phone's guts. "Yeah, well, welco to my life. You get used to the weird when it's all you've known."
Yuki rubbed the back of his neck. "So, Haruto's your uncle but younger than you by like, what, 14 years?"
"Exactly," Kenji said, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "Family trees don't always grow straight, you know? Sotis they look like a drunken octopus."
They both burst into laughter and switched to another topic. From videogas, to movie series, the gist just kept coming and going keeping both of them engaged with each other. "And that's done!" Kenji shoved his shoulders high up with pride as he looked at the perfectly fixed phone."
"You are truly one of the kind Kenji." Kenji took a long sip from his chipped ceramic mug, wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, and set it down with a satisfied sigh.
"Y'know, you're not so bad, kid. If you ever wanna do an internship or sothing, my workshop door's open. Saitama's full of tech geeks lining up to get in, but I could use soone like you."
Yuki gave a half-smile, grateful. "Thanks, Kenji. I'll think about it."
Just then, the soft chi of the doorbell echoed through the cluttered room.
Kenji glanced toward the entrance, eyebrows raised. "Ah, looks like another custor." He turned around, ready to greet whoever had co in—only to freeze in place, his eyes widening slightly.
"Otōchan!" From the doorway stepped a girl, her long black hair catching the sunlight as she moved in. She wore a casual university hoodie and jeans, a warm smile lighting her face. "I just wanted to drop by."
Kenji's stern deanor lted into sothing softer, almost protective." Airi, you're here early. Didn't expect you with so few classes today."
Airi shrugged playfully, her cheeks tinged with a gentle blush. "Yeah, and I'm bored. Thought I'd co see how Papa's doing."
Yuki blinked, taking in the scene. Kenji's tough exterior softened completely around her—like she was the center of his world.
Kenji chuckled. "Well, you know the drill—don't touch anything you're not supposed to. And if you want, I'll make you so tea."
Airi smiled sweetly, stepping further inside. "Sounds perfect, hope I'm not interuptting you?"
That was when Yuki caught of her beautiful green jade eyes. Yuki's eyes locked onto Airi the mont she stepped inside. The way the sunlight caught her hair, framing her face like a halo, made his heart skip an awkward beat.
But then, his body betrayed him — a familiar stirring stirred low in his stomach. He felt a hard sensation growing in his pants.
He grimaced inwardly, eyes darting away before anyone could notice. 'Not again,' he muttered under his breath, cheeks heating up. 'Why do I get fucked up around won?'
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