Archive of Our Own

The bistro was a repurposed pharmacy all exposed brick, brass pipes, and shelves lined with vintage glass bottles filled with herbs, spices, and mysterious powders no one dared to open except Senku. They called the place Bistro Huddy for reasons that no one could quite explain (rumor said it was a bet gone wrong between Chrome and Ukyo), but it stuck.

It was early in the morning.The lights were dim, casting amber warmth over the empty tables. A half-full wine glass sat near the window, Kohaku’s. She’d entered after getting a ride with her sister, waving with a wild grin and a mop of barely brushed hair.

Senku stood behind the bar, carefully measuring out drops of house-made tinctures into a test-tube-like cocktail shaker. His apron was stained with berry reduction and something sulfuric-smelling, and his hair was tied back with a leather cord.

“You’re playing scientist with the cocktail menu again,” came Gen’s voice, smooth as a vintage cabernet and just as intoxicating.

Senku didn’t look up. “If people are going to spend 1,200 yen on a drink, they should suffer for it.”

“I believe the term is ‘experience it,’” Gen said, sliding into a bar stool with a flourish. His bistro uniform was as crumpled as his smile, his tie hanging loose around his neck like he belonged on a jazz album cover instead of behind a POS system.

“I made something,” Senku muttered. “Not for the menu. Just... a chemical experiment. Wanna try it?”

Gen arched an eyebrow. “Is it safe?”

“Nope.”

Gen grinned and held out his hand anyway. “Pour it, bartender.”

Senku handed him the glass it fizzed softly, lavender-hued with a single ice sphere suspended in the middle. “I call it: Brain
Melt.”

“How charmingly violent,” Gen said, then took a sip.

He paused. Blinked. Then laughed.

“It tastes like a blackout and a love letter. What’s in this?”

Senku smirked. “Some stuff I made in the back.”

“You’re going to be the reason we get a visit from the health inspector,” Gen said, but his eyes didn’t leave Senku’s face. “You haven’t stopped fiddling with this drink all week. What’s the occasion?”

Senku leaned on the counter, resting one arm beside Gen’s drink, close enough for their fingers to brush but they didn’t.

“Science is predictable,” Senku said. “People aren’t. But sometimes, if you apply just the right amount of heat and pressure...”

Gen tilted his head, that mind-reader expression flickering across his face. “Are we still talking about cocktails?”

“Depends,” Senku said, voice low. “Are you still drinking it?”

Gen took another slow sip, never breaking eye contact. “Guess I am.”

The silence between them sparked not awkward, but electric.

Like the moment before a beaker boils over.

“Hey,” Gen said after a beat. “What if we added saffron to the reduction?”

Senku narrowed his eyes. “That’s... not a bad idea.”

“See?” Gen grinned. “You’re not the only genius in this kitchen, Ishigami.”

Senku’s lips twitched. “Don’t push it.”

But he didn’t pull his hand away.

Outside, the sun rises. Inside, two madmen with a mutual love for science and chaos leaned just a little closer over an illegal cocktail, letting the experiment run its course.

______

If hell had a kitchen, it would probably look like this.

The pass was backed up, the printer was screaming, and Chrome had actual sweat in his eyeball. Not just on his forehead in his eyeball. He didn’t even know that was biologically possible.

“Table twelve needs two more volcanic egg bowls and one wait, what is this?” he squinted at the ticket. “Senku, why is there a drink on my line called The Billionaire’s Palate Cleanser?”

“That’s mine,” came Ryusui’s voice, loud and glorious as always, from the front of the bistro. “It’s cucumber foam, mint pearls, and a splash of edible gold. It’s a statement, dear Chrome! A performance in a glass!”

Chrome let out the most exhausted groan known to modern man.

Hours earlier, everything had been fine. Almost calm. Just the usual dinner crowd regulars, some college kids, a few tourists who probably thought the name Bistro Huddy was some kind of local cultural thing.

And then Ryusui, owner, capitalist gremlin, and chaos incarnate, had burst through the door in a white linen suit and declared, “Tonight! We feast like kings! And I’ve invited everyone!”

He had not been exaggerating.

Influencers. CEOs. Ex-models. Crypto guys. A retired astronaut. A very confused mayor. The dining room had filled in minutes, and Ryusui was going table to table shaking hands like he was running for president of expensive taste.

In the kitchen, Chrome was juggling three pans, a rice cooker, and the overwhelming desire to walk into the sea.

“Why did I even agree to work here?” he muttered, flipping a piece of marinated meat with exacting force. “I could’ve been a chemistry teacher. Or a street magician. Or literally anything that doesn’t involve Ryusui Nanami’s social calendar.”

From the expo window, Kohaku popped her head in. “Chrome! Table nine is allergic to mushrooms and something on their plate definitely had mushrooms.”

Chrome turned slowly, eyes hollow. “...They ordered the mushroom risotto.”

“I don’t make the rules,” she said, already ducking back out with frightening cheerfulness.

At the bar, Gen was in his element barely. His smile was laminated, his hair perfectly tousled, and his hands were moving at lightning speed. He garnished a citrusy cocktail with flaming rosemary while laughing at something a guest said (probably unfunny), then leaned over to Senku, who was elbow-deep in a cocktail shaker that looked more like lab equipment.

“We need three more of your Brain Melts, two more Fool’s Golds, and a special request for something ‘non-toxic but dramatic,’” Gen said.

Senku rolled his eyes. “That’s just a fancy way of saying ‘blow something up in a glass.’”

“You did start this,” Gen pointed out, smirking.

“I started science,” Senku shot back. “Ryusui started the nonsense.”

Gen laughed. “And yet here we are, dressed like mixologists and married to the rush.”

Senku almost smiled. “Speak for yourself.”

___

In the dining room, Ryusui stood near the host stand, practically glowing.

“Look at this turnout!” he said to Ukyo, who was trying very hard to be invisible while manning the reservation tablet. “A full house! Can you smell it, Ukyo? The scent of capitalism! It’s intoxicating!”

“I think that’s the truffle oil,” Ukyo muttered.

By the time the worst of the rush had passed, the air was thick with heat, the kitchen smelled like triumph and regret, and the staff looked like survivors of a very elegant battlefield.

Chrome slumped against the prep table, hair frizzed, apron a war crime.

“I’m gonna quit,” he mumbled. “I’m gonna open a food truck. Just me, a grill, and no billionaires.”

From the bar, Gen raised a glass. “To delusions!”

“To chaos,” Senku added, clinking his own glass of soda against it.

Ryusui stood on a chair, still rallying a table of investors like a Roman emperor.

Kohaku handed Chrome a bowl of soup. “For you. You earned it.”

Chrome blinked. “Is this... mushroom-free?”

“No promises,” she said with a wink.

Even though they were all exhausted and half-certain they’d dream about ticket machines screaming, no one left early.

Because somewhere between the chaos, they had all accidentally become part of something more than a restaurant.
A team.

A family.

Or at the very least... a very strange group of people who probably wouldn’t survive anywhere else.

___

The next day at Bistro Huddy felt like an entirely different universe.

The espresso machine purred like a sleepy cat. Light jazz trickled from the overhead speakers. Only two tables were filled both with people reading books and nursing oat milk lattes.

Even the sun filtering through the front windows looked softer, as if it, too, was recovering from the Ryusui Rush.

Ukyo was seated on an overturned crate near the pastry case, picking at a day-old biscotti and looking about as emotionally stable as a damp fern.

Yuzuriha sat on the counter across from him, legs swinging, apron neatly tied, holding a clipboard that she had absolutely no intention of using.

“So,” she said sweetly, eyes bright. “You were saying something yesterday?”

Ukyo blinked. “I was?”

“Uh-huh.” She smiled wider. “You said you have a crush.”

Ukyo turned the color of steamed tomato bisque. “I-I might have said something like that...”

“Which means it’s true!” Yuzuriha leaned in conspiratorially. “So who is it? Tell meee!”

Ukyo scratched behind his ear, trying to melt into the floor. “It’s not a big deal...”

Before he could say more, Kohaku dropped into the seat beside him with all the stealth of a cartoon anvil.

“What’s not a big deal?” she asked, plopping a lemon square into her mouth. “Are we gossiping? I want in.”

Yuzuriha giggled. “Ukyo has a crush on someone.”

Kohaku nearly choked. “Wait, what?! Our Ukyo?”

“I’m not property-” Ukyo began, but was swiftly ignored.

“Who is it?” Kohaku demanded, eyes sharp and far too intrigued. “You never talk about that kind of stuff.”

Ukyo hesitated, hands fidgeting in his lap. “Well...it’s our boss.”
Both girls gasped.

Kohaku immediately said, “Tsukasa?!”

Yuzuriha, at the exact same time, guessed, “Hyoga?!”

They turned to each other with the realization that apparently, they had very different ideas of which boss.

Ukyo let out the smallest, most pained sigh. “...No. Not them.”

And then as if summoned by chaos itself Ryusui strolled into the bistro, his golden hair extra shiny for no reason at all, sunglasses pushed up into his headband.

“Good morning, team!” he said with the confidence of a man who was definitely not going to apologize for last night’s madness. He spun into a seat at the bar. “I trust you all survived my brilliant social experiment-slash-networking gala?”

Yuzuriha and Kohaku stared at him like he’d just announced he’s quitting.

They leaned in with perfectly matched mischievous grins and whisper-yelled:

“Oh. My. GOD.”

“You like Ryusui?!”

“Are you okay?”

“You need help.”

“Wait, wait, I get it. The confidence. The chaos. You’re into that?”

“He is weirdly charming in a walking ego kind of way.”

Ukyo whispered, “I’m begging you to stop talking.”

But they didn’t.

They were still rapid-fire analyzing Ukyo’s romantic preferences (“Is it the voice? It’s the voice, right?” “No, I bet it’s the reckless ambition. Like a bird drawn to a shiny car.”) when Hyoga walked by with a tray of glasses and the cold judgment of a thousand winters.

He paused.

“Don’t you two have things to clean?”

All three straightened immediately.

“Yes, Sir,” they said in unison.

As Hyoga walked off, Kohaku elbowed Ukyo and whispered, “We’re not done here.”

Yuzuriha added, “You have to tell him eventually.”

Ukyo groaned into the biscotti.

And behind the bar, Ryusui waved his empty glass in the air.

“Another matcha tonic, please! Make it artistic!”

___

Back in the kitchen of Bistro Huddy, the air was hot, greasy, and filled with the sounds of sizzling oil and knives hitting cutting boards. The prep station looked like a war zone. The dish pit was flooding again. And someone (probably Ginro) had broken the lid off the giant tub of mayo.

Chrome had it.

“I’m just saying,” he huffed, slamming a bowl of shredded daikon onto the counter. “If one more person sends back a dish because it’s ‘too sciencey,’ I’m gonna lose my mind. We are a cutting-edge bistro! Embrace the foam!”

Taiju looked up from peeling a mountain of potatoes, brows raised. “Someone complained again?”

“Yes!” Chrome threw his arms up. “Apparently, ‘liquid nitrogen sorbet’ is ‘intimidating.’”

Ginro, halfway through slicing cucumbers (very unevenly), muttered, “I mean... I kind of agree. It hisses at me.”

“It’s a texture experience!” Chrome cried.

From the corner, Kinro didn’t look up from his meticulous julienning. “Sounds like a you problem.”

Chrome opened his mouth for a dramatic retort then didn’t bother. Instead, he flopped onto a stool near the walk-in, face in hands.

“I’m tired. I’m sweaty. And I’m like... 95% done with humanity today.”

“Aw, buddy,” Taiju said cheerfully, tossing a potato peel at the trash (he missed). “You’ll survive. You always do.”

“Barely.”

Head chef Kaseki, wise and eternally covered in flour, turned from the stove, arms crossed over his chest. “You complaining, or are you trying to tell us something, boy?”

Chrome peeked up. “...Actually.”

Everyone paused.

He stood and stretched, cracking his back with a satisfying pop, then grinned.

“I am kind of in a good mood today, though.”

Ginro blinked. “You just spent ten minutes talking about stabbing a customer with a fondue fork.”

“Yeah, but after work,” Chrome said, eyes sparkling now, “Ruri and I are going on a date.”

Taiju dropped a potato.

“NO WAY,” he said, grinning. “Like an actual date?”

“Yeah,” Chrome nodded proudly. “Dinner. Maybe a movie. You know. Romance.”

Kaseki chuckled, going back to his sauce pan. “Ahh, young love. About time you asked her, boy.”

“I did ask her, like, three weeks ago!” Chrome said, cheeks pink.

“But we kept getting our shifts crossed.”

Kinro finally looked up, expression unreadable. “Where are you taking her?”

Chrome puffed out his chest. “That new place down by the riverwalk. The one with the patio and the glowing drink menu.”
Ginro made a face. “Ugh. Fancy.”

“Exactly!” Chrome said. “I’m wearing an actual button-up shirt.”

“Oh wow, he's serious,” Taiju laughed, clapping him on the back.
“Look at you. Our little Chrome. All grown up.”

“Shut up,” Chrome said, but he was smiling.

The guys kept going Taiju tell him to bring flowers, Kaseki offering to lend him his old cologne (“Aged like a fine wine and smells like one too”), and Ginro asking if Chrome had a backup plan in case he spilled something on himself (“Which you will”).

It was one of those rare, warm moments in the kitchen, the kind where even the heat didn’t feel oppressive, just alive.

And then...

A shadow passed the line.

THUD.

Tsukasa entered the kitchen with the quiet gravity of a panther, arms folded, black dress shirt somehow untouched by the chaos of the back of house.
The entire kitchen stilled.

He scanned the room once. Slowly.

“…Are we on break?”

Chrome froze mid-laugh. Ginro dropped a knife. Taiju tried to look busy slicing potatoes he had already finished slicing. Kinro was the only one who didn’t panic, silently returning to his station like a soldier.

“No, sir,” Chrome squeaked.

Tsukasa nodded once.

“Then I suggest we get back to work. I want the dinner prep finished within the hour.”

“Yes, Chef,” they all echoed.

Tsukasa turned and walked off without another word like a terrifying storm cloud in slacks.

A full ten seconds passed before anyone exhaled.

“…I just aged three years,” Ginro said.

“You think he ever goes on dates?” Taiju asked, honestly curious.

“No,” Chrome whispered. “He is the date.”

As the kitchen roared back to life, pans clattered and laughter slowly returned, more hushed this time.

Chrome smirked to himself as he stirred a sauce, heart beating fast for reasons only partially related to Tsukasa's sudden entrance.

Because whatever happened next foamed drinks, evil bosses, or flaming desserts at least tonight, Ruri was waiting.

And that made everything worth it.
___

The late afternoon lull was settling over Bistro Huddy that golden hour between the brunch stragglers and the dinner crowd, when even the espresso machine seemed to sigh in relief.

At the bar, Senku was wiping down glassware with half his attention. Gen sat across from him, swirling a fizzy lychee soda in a short glass. Ryusui was draped across the barstool beside him like royalty slumming it for fun, sunglasses perched on his head and shirt open one button too many.

“You know,” Ryusui said, stretching dramatically, “if I’d known this place would also function as my personal soap opera, I would’ve started charging cover at the door.”

“Shut up,” Senku said flatly, though there was no heat behind it.

“Oh no, don’t stop him,” Gen said with a lazy grin. “This is my entertainment for the week.”

“Flattered,” Ryusui said, sipping from his Americano like it was champagne. “So, bartender geniuses, what chaos awaits us tonight?”

Senku checked the prep sheet. “We’re short a busser. And someone booked a party of twelve for seven PM.”

“Oh, splendid,” Gen said, setting his glass down with a clink.

“Twelve people? Let me guess corporate, wearing matching polos and asking for separate checks?”

Senku smirked. “You’re learning.”

“Like I’d want to be you,” Gen quipped, flicking a stir stick at him.

“You look like you’ve slept an hour since last Tuesday.”

“Two hours,” Senku corrected, then yawned. “I’m going on break.

Don’t touch anything weird.”

“Tempting,” Ryusui muttered.

Senku grabbed a bottle of soda and slipped toward the back, pushing through the swinging door that separated the kitchen from the bar.

As soon as it swung shut, Ryusui glanced sideways at Gen.

“...Does he know?”

Gen, mid-sip, paused. Just long enough.

Ryusui caught it.

“About you,” he clarified, voice quieter now. “Leaving the bar.”

Gen rested his glass on the counter, then slowly smiled that practiced, perfect kind of smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“No,” he said lightly. “Senku doesn’t know yet.”

Ryusui raised a brow. “And when exactly were you planning to tell your dear partner-in-shaker?”

Gen shrugged. “Eventually. It's not like I’m leaving the bistro. I’m just trading lime wedges for wine trays.”

Ryusui leaned on the counter, expression amused but thoughtful. “So... why the switch?”

Gen’s smile turned a little more honest. “It has always been the plan, bartending was always going to be temporary. Its just along the way i forgot about it because working with senku was so fun.”

“....And the girls?” Ryusui asked. “How’d they react to the great Gen Asagiri joining the waitstaff?”

Gen laughed, brushing his fingers through his hair. “Kohaku wanted to challenge me to a tray-balancing race. Yuzuriha said we need to match colors. And Ruri just smiled and said ‘good luck.’” He paused. “So... they’re excited.”

“Of course they are. You’re charming. And mildly dangerous.”

“High praise,” Gen said, tipping an invisible hat.

They shared a quiet chuckle. The kind that came from knowing they’d both seen more than they said.

What they didn’t notice was the figure standing just behind the kitchen wall.

Senku.

He’d stopped on the way to the back lot, cracked open his soda, and... overheard everything.

He leaned against the cool wall, unreadable.His fingers curling slightly around the soda bottle.

Then, without a word, he turned and walked away, the fizz of the bottle hissing faintly behind him.

____

The clink of glass and hum of conversation filled Bistro Huddy, but Senku barely registered any of it.

He stood behind the bar beside Gen, meticulously lining up cleaned highball glasses, hands moving automatically. His mind, however, was elsewhere still echoing with Gen’s voice from earlier.

“No. Senku doesn’t know yet.”

“I’m just trading lime wedges for wine trays.”

He hadn’t expected it to hit him like this.

It wasn’t like Gen was quitting the bistro. It wasn’t betrayal. It wasn’t even personal. But somehow, it felt like someone had rewired the very circuits of the place. The bar was their shared domain: messy, sarcastic, brilliant. Losing Gen from that rhythm would be... weird.

He hadn’t realized how much he’d grown used to Gen’s presence. His timing. His banter. His ridiculously perfect pours.

A voice pulled him back.

“Going on break,” Senku said, more abrupt than intended.

Gen, still mid-conversation with a customer at the bar, nodded with his usual charming smile, not missing a beat. “Got it, Doctor Drinks.”

Senku didn’t respond. He walked toward the patio doors, pushed them open, and stepped into the late afternoon air.

It was quiet out back, aside from the soft rattle of a distant AC unit and the occasional hum of passing scooters. He sat on an overturned milk crate by the herb planters, soda still in hand, mostly flat now.

He stared at the fading sunlight hitting the edge of the building.

He hated this feeling like his brain was stuck buffering.

Just then, the door creaked open again.

“Yo!” came Taiju’s unmistakable voice. He was lugging two trash bags, face already flushed from kitchen heat. “Didn’t know you were out here.”

“Taking five,” Senku said.

Taiju tossed the bags in the bin with a grunt, then wiped his hands on his apron and plopped down next to Senku without hesitation.

“You good?”

Senku glanced sideways at him. “Do I look good?”

“Honestly? You look like your brain is solving twelve equations and one of them’s emotional.”

Senku huffed a laugh despite himself. “Not far off.”

They sat there for a beat, watching a pigeon land on the nearby fence like it owned the world.

“You ever feel,” Senku said slowly, “like something changes, and it’s not bad but it’s not good either? Just... different. And it throws everything off.”

Taiju blinked. “Yeah, man. Like when they changed the soda machine buttons and I pressed cola and got sparkling celery.”

Senku gave him a flat look. “That’s not even remotely the same.”
“But I get what you mean,” Taiju said more seriously.

“Sometimes change just hits weird. Doesn’t mean it’s wrong.”

Senku looked down at his half-empty bottle. “Yeah. Guess not.”

Taiju nudged him with his shoulder. “You’ll adjust. You always do. You’re Senku. King of adapting and overthinking at the same time.”

“Not inaccurate.”

They sat there a little longer, the tension in Senku’s shoulders slowly melting under the low sun and Taiju’s easy presence.

Then Senku stood, brushing off his apron. “We’re short a busser tonight.”

Taiju raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“You want in? Just for the evening. I could use someone with long arms and no dignity.”

Taiju lit up like a lightbulb. “Seriously? I mean yeah! Yeah, I can do that! Plus... I’d be closer to Yuzuriha.”

Senku smirked faintly. “And there it is.”

Taiju rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “It’s not the only reason. But it helps.”

“Get inside, loverboy.”

Taiju grinned and opened the back door. “Let’s buss some tables!”

Senku rolled his eyes so hard it probably added to the earth’s rotation but still, the weight in his chest felt a little lighter.

Inside, Gen was still at the bar, laughing with customers, perfect posture, perfect hair, perfect charm.

Senku watched him for a second longer than necessary.

Then he returned to work.

For now, at least, things were still in motion even if the formula had changed.

____

The night wound down like a soft song.

Tables emptied one by one. A few lingering customers clinked the last of their glasses, savoring dessert and dim candlelight. The bistro lights had been turned down to a soft golden glow, and the kitchen had gone quiet nothing but the faint clatter of pans being put away and the occasional burst of Chrome’s laugh echoing from the back.

By the front window, Kohaku stood with her arms crossed, apron stained from dinner service, watching the last few guests laugh their way toward the door. Yuzuriha was beside her, holding an empty water pitcher and very much not watching Taiju clear a table across the dining room.

Kohaku smirked. “You’ve been looking at him for twenty minutes.”

Yuzuriha blinked. “No I haven’t.”

“You haven’t blinked either.”

Yuzuriha flushed. “I was just making sure he doesn’t drop anything.”

Kohaku chuckled and leaned back against the window frame, watching her tables with half an eye.

“Being a waiter sucks,” she said casually.

Yuzuriha tilted her head. “That came out of nowhere.”

“It’s true,” Kohaku said. “It’s all trays and small talk and creepy guys thinking the smile’s for them.”

Yuzuriha glanced at her gently. “That why you took the job? To protect Ruri?”

Kohaku nodded. “Yeah. Ruri’s too nice. She’d apologize to a customer who spilled soup on her. I figured if someone had to deal with jerks, it should be me.”

She stared out at the nearly empty bistro. “But still... this isn’t what I want to do.”

Yuzuriha leaned her shoulder against the wall beside her. “So what do you want to do?”

Kohaku was quiet for a moment.

“I think... I want to be in the kitchen. Maybe a chef. Or even a bartender.” She smiled faintly. “I’d probably break fewer plates if I wasn’t holding five at once.”

Yuzuriha smiled. “You’d be great in either. You have good instincts.”

Kohaku gave her a surprised glance. “You think so?”

“Of course.” Yuzuriha nudged her. “And now’s the perfect time, right? Gen’s leaving the bar.”

Kohaku blinked. “That’s true...”

“Working with Senku might be better for you than out here,” Yuzuriha added. “You’re both smart. Practical. Blunt. It might actually be fun.”

Kohaku looked thoughtful for a moment, then nodded. “Alright. I’ll talk to Hyoga about it. Worst case, he growls at me and tells me to mop something.”

Yuzuriha laughed. “That’s how he says ‘I’m proud of you.’”

Kohaku grinned, turning to leave but she paused, just long enough to glance over her shoulder.

“Oh, and by the way,” she said, voice teasing. “You’ve got it bad for Taiju.”

Yuzuriha nearly dropped the pitcher. “Wh-what?!”
“You heard me.”

Kohaku winked, then disappeared down the aisle to check her tables.

Left behind, Yuzuriha covered her face with her hands, cheeks burning.

She took a deep breath, then muttered under her breath: “Get back to work, Kohaku...”

But she was smiling.

___

The last dishes were washed. The final chairs were flipped onto tables. The kitchen lights dimmed to a low glow, and the smell of citrus cleaner replaced the aroma of grilled vegetables and spice.

Bistro Huddy was officially closed for the night.

By the back door, Chrome was fixing the collar on his clean button-up, flushed with nervous energy as he waited.

Ruri appeared from the hallway, coat already on, hair down from her usual updo, smile warm and calm as always.

“You ready?” she asked softly.

Chrome’s ears turned pink. “Y-Yeah. You look nice.”

“You too.” She took his arm without hesitation, and the two of them slipped out the back into the quiet city night.

From across the room, Kohaku watched them go, a fond smile tugging at her lips. Then, tucking her phone into her coat pocket, she headed toward the staff hallway.

She’d just left Hyoga’s office, her conversation with him still fresh in her mind.

“If Gen’s really switching, I want in. I want to train with Senku.”

“You’re impulsive.”

“And I learn fast.”

To her surprise, Hyoga had only grunted in response and said, “We’ll start Monday.”

She didn’t expect him to say more. That was basically a standing ovation in Hyoga-speak.

Slipping out the side door, Kohaku pulled her keys from her coat and headed for her car. Tomorrow would be different. She could feel it.

Inside, Taiju was pulling on his jacket when he noticed Yuzuriha grabbing her bag near the register.

“Hey,” he said, stepping over. “You headed to the bus stop?”

“Yeah, in a sec.”

“I can walk with you, if you want.”

Yuzuriha blinked. “Really?”

He smiled. “Of course! It’s late, and it’d be nice to talk. You know. Outside the kitchen. Without flour flying in our faces.”
She laughed softly. “Okay. I’d like that.”

As they headed out together, Ryusui passed them on his way out, coat slung over his shoulder. “Ah, young love,” he said in mock reverence. “May your awkward flirting blossom into something tragically beautiful.”

Yuzuriha turned bright red. Taiju just blinked. “...Thanks?”

Ryusui smirked and disappeared into the night.

Not long after, Tsukasa and Hyoga emerged from the back, the two stoic men sharing a wordless nod with Gen and Senku at the bar.

“We’ll leave you two to lock up,” Tsukasa said. “Everything’s squared away.”

“Don’t burn the place down,” Hyoga added as they passed.

Senku gave a mock salute. Gen raised his empty glass in farewell.

And just like that the hum of bodies, voices, chaos all of it was gone.

Leaving just Gen and Senku, alone in the still, quiet bistro.

Senku leaned against the counter, slowly drying a glass. Gen sat on a stool, elbows on the polished bar top, swirling a melting ice cube around in his empty drink.

“So,” Gen said, breaking the silence, “you’ll like this one of the customers tonight asked me if the ‘guy with the white hair’ was secretly a genius scientist.”

Senku raised an eyebrow. “Did you tell them to mind their own business?”

Gen grinned. “I told them you were the best bartender in the city and had a PhD in mixology and sarcasm.”

Senku snorted. “Idiot.”

Then the air shifted.

The kind of silence that stretches a little too long before one of them decides to say something that actually matters.

Senku set the glass down.

“So,” he said quietly, “when were you going to tell me?”

Gen paused then exhaled slowly and smiled. Not his stage smile. The smaller, quieter one.

“I figured you’d find out eventually.”

Senku frowned. “That’s not the point.”

“I know,” Gen said. “I just... didn’t want to make it a big deal.

You’ve got enough in your head.”

“I work with you every shift.”

“I still work here, Senku,” Gen said gently. “I’m not quitting. I just wanted a change.”

Senku looked away, jaw tight. “We were good at this. You and me. Behind the bar.”

“I know,” Gen said. “I’m gonna miss it too.”

Another pause.

Then Senku muttered, “I will support you. Even if you’re out there being dramatic with napkins instead of cocktail shakers.”

Gen chuckled, voice soft. “That’s the most affectionate thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Senku rolled his eyes. “Don’t get used to it.”

A moment passed. Long, quiet, and close. Something hung in the air, not quite spoken, not quite ignorable.

Gen leaned forward slightly. His voice dropped just a little.

“You’re going to be fine without me back here, you know.”

Senku met his eyes. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t be. Just said I’d miss my partner.”

That landed like a stone in water, sending out ripples between them.

Before anything else could be said.

Gen’s phone buzzed.

He glanced at the screen and stood. “That’s my Uber.”

Senku nodded once. “I’ll lock up.”

Gen hesitated, eyes lingering on Senku. Then he smiled, slipping into his coat. “See you tomorrow, bartender.”

Senku just gave a half-wave without looking.

The door closed behind Gen with a soft chime.

Senku stood there in the stillness, surrounded by silence and dim lighting and a dozen little reminders of their routine. His fingers grazed the edge of the bar Gen always leaned on.

He took a breath and said, to no one, “It doesn’t matter.”
Another breath. Quieter.

“It’ll be fine.”

He turned off the lights.

And left.

___

The lunch rush came fast and Gen Asagiri was ready.

With a tray balanced in one hand and a tablet in the other, he moved through the bistro like a conductor in front of a five-piece jazz band. Calm, coordinated, confident.

“Your sangria, madam,” he said with a bow-like flourish to a table of women, earning a round of laughter.

“And for you,” he told another table, setting down a perfectly balanced salad. “No walnuts I remembered. Allergies are tragic, and death by garnish? Worse.”

He juggled orders, dodged hot plates, kept coffee warm, refilled water before it was half-empty. And he made it look easy.

Even Tsukasa, watching silently from near the register, gave a subtle nod of approval.

“Gen’s pulling in three tables’ worth of tips,” Ryusui muttered to Hyoga with a smirk. “We should’ve made this switch weeks ago.”

Behind the bar, the atmosphere was... different.

Senku leaned over the counter, watching Kohaku fumble her way through her third attempt at a lemon-basil spritzer.

The muddler slipped from her hand. Again.

“Too much lemon,” Senku snapped. “You’re bruising the basil. And that’s not how you use the strainer. Why are you even pouring it like that?!”

Kohaku flinched. “I’m-I’m sorry, I thought-”

“Don’t think. Watch. Then do.”

She tried to nod, but her hands were shaking slightly. She poured again. The drink looked fine.

Senku frowned. “Now it’s too weak. That’s not balance, it’s barely flavored water.”

Kohaku looked down at the glass. “...I’ll remake it.”

She grabbed another shaker with clumsy speed. The ice went everywhere. The lid popped loose.

Senku pinched the bridge of his nose. “Stop. Just... stop for a minute.”

She froze.

He sighed and wiped his hands on a towel. “Go take a break. Five minutes.”

Kohaku hesitated, biting the inside of her cheek. “Okay.”

She turned and walked toward the staff hallway, shoulders tense. She didn’t say a word.

Senku watched her go, then leaned heavily on the bar, letting the weight settle into his spine.

It wasn’t Kohaku’s fault. She was trying. And she wasn’t untalented. But everything she did wrong only reminded him of how Gen never had to be told anything twice. Of how they used to move in sync without even speaking. Of how easy it had been.

He looked out over the restaurant.

There Gen was three tables deep, smiling effortlessly, chatting with an older man about vintage wines, even charming a baby into smiling during the pass-by.

Everyone loved him.

Of course they did.

He was magnetic, stylish, quick-witted the perfect waiter.

Perfect host. Bringing in new customers, raising the mood, making it all feel like a five-star experience.

Senku’s chest tightened.

He left the bar.

He left me.

The realization sat there like a stone in his stomach.

And just as quickly, Senku turned away.

Back to the bar. Back to the mint leaves. Back to the measurements and ratios and glassware that didn’t leave.

He couldn’t keep looking.

From the other side of the room, Gen placed down a fresh plate and looked up just in time to see Senku retreat behind the shelves of bottles and mixers.

Gen didn’t smile this time.

He just watched him.

Then, as someone called his name from table nine, Gen turned back to work tray in hand, face composed.

Like nothing was missing.

Even when it was.

___

The back alley behind Bistro Huddy was quiet just the soft hum of distant traffic and the occasional rattle of the exhaust fan above.

Kohaku sat on the low concrete ledge behind the building, elbows resting on her knees, chin in her hands.

Senku’s words still echoed in her head.

“Don’t think. Watch. Then do.”

She had thought working behind the bar would make her feel stronger, more capable. But all it had done was prove how wrong she was. She’d fumbled every pour, over-muddled everything, and worst of all, Senku looked like he regretted even trying to train her.

Maybe she should’ve just stayed a waitress.

The door creaked open behind her.

She didn’t look up.

“Break time?” came a familiar voice.

Kohaku turned slightly. Chrome stood there, arms crossed, a distracted frown on his face.

“Hey,” she said softly. “Yeah. You too?”

Chrome gave a half-shrug. “I guess. Just needed air.”

He moved to sit next to her, not saying much at first.

Kohaku glanced at him. “You okay?”

Chrome blinked. “Huh?”

“You look like you just fought a grizzly bear and lost.”

That earned a dry little laugh. “Not a bear. Just... something worse.”

Kohaku waited.

Chrome sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. “It’s about last night. Me and Ruri went out. Just a quiet place, nothing fancy.”

Kohaku nodded, listening.

“We were having a good time until this guy showed up. Just... some dude who wouldn’t leave her alone. Kept complimenting her, talking over me like I wasn’t even there. I tried to step in, you know? I told him to back off. But he just looked at me. Like I wasn’t even worth responding to.”

Chrome’s voice tightened. “He pushed me aside like I was nothing. And I froze. Ruri had to yell at him. She pulled me away.

I didn’t protect her. She protected me.”

He let out a bitter laugh. “I felt like I wasn’t even a man.”

Kohaku turned toward him, brow furrowed. “Chrome…”

He shook his head. “I just stood there. Like an idiot. What kind of guy does that?”

“The kind who didn’t want to escalate something dangerous,” Kohaku said calmly. “You didn’t get into a fight because you didn’t want Ruri to get caught in something worse. That’s not cowardice. That’s restraint.”

“But-”

“But nothing,” she interrupted. “That guy was a creep. And creeps don’t listen to reason or fists only consequences. Ruri choosing you over him? That was a consequence. And it made her point louder than a punch ever could.”

Chrome blinked at her, quiet.

Kohaku softened a little. “Don’t beat yourself up over it. You're not weak, Chrome. You’re smart. You’re kind. And you’re brave in the ways that count.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then Chrome exhaled. “Thanks.”

Kohaku gave a small smile. “Anytime.”

A beat passed. Then he looked at her.

“Your turn.”

“Hm?”

“You’re upset too. What happened?”

Kohaku hesitated, then sighed. “I’ve been training with Senku.

Behind the bar. Thought I’d try something new. But I suck at it.

Everything I touch turns to garbage. I dropped a shaker. Twice. He keeps snapping at me. I feel like I’m wasting everyone’s time.”

“You’re not,” Chrome said immediately.

“You weren’t even there.”

“Still. I know you. You don’t give up. You just don’t like being bad at something. Especially in front of someone who’s good at it.”

She looked at him, surprised.

He gave her a knowing smile. “Sound familiar?”

“…Maybe.”

He nudged her shoulder. “Give it a week. You’ll be better than all of us. Including Senku.”

“Bold claim.”

“I’m a bold guy.”

They both laughed quietly.

Kohaku stood, brushing off her apron. “We should get back.”

Chrome nodded, getting to his feet. “Yeah. Don’t want Hyoga giving us that stare.”

They moved toward the door.

As Kohaku opened it, she glanced back at Chrome.

“Thanks.”

He grinned. “Right back at you.”

And together, they stepped back into the bistro not perfect, but a little steadier than before.

___

The afternoon lull had finally settled in just a soft buzz of customers and the occasional clatter of silverware. Gen stood near the window, chatting with a small group of regulars, smooth as ever.

At the same time, Ruri was finishing up with a solo customer at table seven, an older man who had been pleasant enough at first, polite, even until she had politely corrected a miscommunication on his order.

Now his face had tightened.

“I asked for no dairy,” he snapped, even though the dish he ordered had cheese listed clearly in the description. “And you’re telling me that I’m wrong?”

“No, sir,” Ruri said calmly. “I’m just trying to explain that the pasta you chose does have cheese baked into the sauce. If you'd like, I can have the kitchen remake it.”

“Unbelievable. You clearly don’t know what you’re doing. Get me the manager.”

Ruri kept her smile on, but her posture was stiff. “I can absolutely get someone for you.”

Before she could turn, the man leaned forward, invading her space.

“You’re too pretty to be stupid,” he said under his breath, “but I guess that’s how it is sometimes.”

The noise in the kitchen stopped.

Someone had heard that.

Chrome pushed through the door a second later.

He looked between Ruri and the man, tension hitting him instantly.

“Is there a problem?” Chrome asked, voice tight.

The man scoffed. “Oh great. They sent the dishwasher.”

Chrome stepped forward. “I’m asking you to back off.”

“Oh, please.” The man looked Chrome up and down. “What are you going to do, glare at me to death?”

Ruri opened her mouth, but Chrome beat her to it, stepping between them fully now. “You need to leave. You don’t talk to her like that.”

“Or what?” The man barked a laugh. “You going to call your mom?”

Chrome flinched just slightly but it was enough. The same weight in his chest from that night at the restaurant crushed him again. That same sense of helplessness. Of being dismissed. Again.

And just like before, it was Ruri who stepped in.

“That’s enough,” she said, firm now. Strong.

She reached out, grabbing Chrome’s hand without hesitation and pulling him slightly behind her. “You don’t belong here. And if you don’t leave right now, we will involve management.”

The man looked like he was going to argue again.

But then Tsukasa arrived.

Calm. Silent. Towering.

He didn’t say anything. Just looked at the man.

And that was enough.

The customer faltered, muttered something under his breath, and practically tripped over himself trying to get to the door.

As the bistro settled again, Tsukasa turned to the two of them.
“Take a break.”

Ruri nodded. “Thank you.”

Chrome didn’t say anything. He just followed her out the back, shoulders tense, fists clenched.

The alley was cool, quiet. Chrome sat down, elbows on his knees, breathing hard.

Ruri sat next to him, giving him space. A few minutes passed before she finally said:

“Are you okay?”

Chrome didn’t look at her. “That guy… he reminded me of the one from our date.”

Ruri frowned gently.

“He just looked at me like I was nothing,” Chrome muttered. “Said whatever he wanted. Got in your space. And I just froze.

Again.”

Ruri waited.

“I keep trying to be stronger,” he said quietly. “For you. To protect you. But I couldn’t do anything. Not last time. Not this time.”

Ruri turned toward him. “You were trying to protect me, Chrome. You stepped in. That takes courage.”

“I didn’t do anything,” he snapped, frustrated. “You had to do it all. Again. And that guy didn’t even flinch when I told him to back off. He just looked through me.”

“You’re not invisible to me,” she said softly.

He blinked.

She shifted closer. “You don’t have to prove your worth by how loud you are. Or how threatening you look. That’s not the kind of strength I need.”

Chrome looked down at the ground, voice rough. “I just want to protect you.”

“I know,” Ruri said, reaching over and gently taking his hand.

“But I want to protect you, too.”

He looked up, eyes meeting hers.

“I started working here because I wanted to be closer to you,” she added, smiling. “You know that, right?”

His ears turned pink. “W-What?”

Ruri laughed softly. “You looked so cute just now.”

“I was being serious!”

“I know. So was I.”

She gave his hand a small squeeze, then stood.

“We should head back.”

Chrome stood slowly, still dazed.

At the door, she turned and smiled over her shoulder. “I don’t see you as weak, Chrome. Or less of a man.”

She held his gaze.

“I just see you as you.”

And with that, she disappeared inside, apron swaying with every step.

Chrome stood alone in the alley for a second longer, cheeks burning and heart pounding.

And for once, he didn’t feel so small.

____

The late afternoon shift was settling into its rhythm. Music played softly in the background, the air smelled faintly of rosemary and warm bread, and the front of house was finally calm after the midday chaos.

At the hostess stand, Ukyo leaned casually against the podium, scrolling through a reservation list on the screen. Gen stood next to him, sipping a sparkling water and chuckling at something on his phone.

“So,” Gen grinned, glancing sideways, “was that woman at table six hitting on you, or am I just projecting?”

Ukyo sighed. “She asked if I was emotionally available. So… yes.”

Gen laughed. “You're a magnet, my friend.”

Ukyo rolled his eyes. “Well, the answer was no. Obviously.”

Before Gen could tease further, the front door swung open.

Ryusui stepped in, sunglasses perched on his head, golden hair just messy enough to look deliberate. “Ah, my two favorite charmers,” he greeted, voice loud and bright. “Holding the fort?”

Gen grinned. “Just long enough for you to arrive and claim the glory.”

“Of course,” Ryusui said with a wink.

Ukyo gave him a polite nod. “Afternoon, boss.”

“Looking sharp as always, Ukyo,” Ryusui said smoothly, then added with a mischievous lilt, “You should see what you do to our Yelp reviews.”

Gen rolled his eyes. “Alright, alright this waiter has tables to charm. Try not to seduce my coworker while I’m gone.”

“Too late,” Ryusui replied cheerfully.

Ukyo coughed, a bit flustered, but Gen just walked off with a smirk.

Now it was just the two of them.

Ryusui leaned against the stand, folding his arms. “Busy shift?”

Ukyo nodded, trying not to feel too warm under the blonde’s confident stare. “Steady. Good crowd.”

There was a brief pause, and then Ryusui said, almost casually, “So... I was thinking.”

Ukyo tilted his head. “That’s dangerous.”

Ryusui laughed, the sound smooth and light. “Only when I act on impulse. Which, in this case, I fully intend to.”

Ukyo blinked. “Meaning…?”

Ryusui looked at him squarely. “Would you go on a date with me?”

Ukyo froze.

“Wait what?”

Ryusui shrugged, completely unbothered. “I’ve liked you for a while, you know. You’re smart, thoughtful, talented, have a smile that ruins my focus. And, okay, I may or may not have hired you partly because I wanted an excuse to talk to you every day.”

Ukyo’s jaw worked silently for a moment. “You… what?”

“You can say no,” Ryusui added, voice calm now. “I won’t make things weird. But I was raised to go after what I want. And when I want something, I don’t mind putting in the effort.”

Ukyo stared at him, wide-eyed, heart hammering unexpectedly fast.

“You’re serious.”

“As a broken espresso machine during brunch rush,” Ryusui said.

Ukyo laughed, he couldn't help it and shook his head slowly. “You’re ridiculous.”

“But charming.”

“...Also that.”

Ryusui leaned in just a little. “So. I’m officially declaring my intention to win you over. Respectfully. No pressure.”

Ukyo raised a brow, recovering from his shock. “You really plan on working for it, huh?”

Ryusui grinned. “Like a man with something worth chasing.”

Ukyo smirked now, lips twitching. “Then I hope you’re a hard worker.”

“Oh, I am,” Ryusui said, stepping back dramatically. “The hardest.”

Ukyo snorted. “That sounded worse than you think it did.”

“Ah, but did it?”

Ukyo rolled his eyes, but his ears were faintly red.

Ryusui waved as he headed toward the back. “Catch you later, Captain Calm.”

Ukyo didn’t respond at first. He was too busy thinking.

And maybe smiling just a little too much.

The rest of his shift passed without incident, but the memory of the conversation lingered. Every time Ryusui walked by, Ukyo couldn’t help but glance up. And every time, Ryusui shot him a knowing smile.

Ukyo returned to the hostess stand later that evening, seating new guests and taking calls. But in between the tasks, his thoughts wandered.

"Win you over," Ryusui had said.

It was bold. It was reckless.

It was... kind of sweet.

Ukyo wasn’t sure what would happen. But he was curious. And, for the first time in a long while, he felt something flutter behind his ribs.
Excitement.

Let’s see what Ryusui does next.

___

The dinner rush had come and gone, and Bistro Huddy was settling into a calm hum of quiet tables and half-full wine glasses.

Behind the bar, Kohaku poured a drink with confident hands, wrist steady as she strained a gin spritz into a chilled glass. No splashing. No ice spills.

She added a twist of lime with a practiced motion, placed the drink on the bar, and offered the customer a small, satisfied smile.

Senku watched from the other end of the counter. Observing. Evaluating.

“Not bad,” he finally said.

Kohaku turned. “Not bad?”

“Better than I expected.” His tone was less sharp than usual.

“You’re finally learning how not to kill the basil.”

She narrowed her eyes playfully. “High praise coming from you.”

They worked in relative silence for a while. But as the crowd thinned and the bistro quieted, Senku set down his rag and leaned slightly against the back counter.

“Kohaku,” he said quietly. “Hey.”

She looked over.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I… wanted to say sorry. For how I acted. I was-”

“A jerk?” she offered.

He gave her a dry look. “I was going to say frustrated, but yes. That too.”

She waited.

Senku exhaled. “I’ve been going through some stuff. Mentally.

Emotionally. And I took it out on you. That wasn’t fair.”

Kohaku studied him for a moment then smiled.

“It’s okay. I knew something was bothering you,” she said gently. “But thanks for saying it.”

He gave a soft nod, and they returned to work without another word. But the air between them had shifted clearer, lighter. The tension that had been dragging behind every word for days finally melted away.

Later, as the restaurant emptied out and the lights dimmed, Taiju and Chrome prepared to close up shop. Chrome double-checked the back door while Taiju wiped down the front windows.

At the bar, Senku packed up his things. Gen appeared from the dining room, coat already over his shoulders.

“Night, everyone!” Gen sang, waving. “Don’t let the fryer ghosts bite.”

Senku glanced over, his keys already in hand. “I’ll drive you.”

Gen blinked. “You sure?”

“Yeah. Car’s out back.”

Gen grinned. “How gentlemanly.”

They stepped out into the cool night air. Senku unlocked the car, and Gen slid into the passenger seat with a sigh.

As they pulled out of the lot, Gen leaned back, arms folded.
“I forgot how quiet it is after closing.”

Senku nodded. “You’ve been running around like a circus act all day. Still alive?”

“Barely,” Gen replied. “I had a table that tried to tip me in Bitcoin.”
Senku snorted. “You take it?”

“Almost. Until they started explaining NFTs and I blacked out.”

They both laughed, easy and familiar. The kind of laugh that hadn’t passed between them in what felt like weeks.

“Missed this,” Senku muttered before he could stop himself.

Gen turned his head, lips quirking. “What, the existential horror of post-shift delirium?”

Senku shot him a look. “No. Talking. With you.”

Gen’s expression softened. “Yeah. Same.”

They lapsed into a comfortable silence after that, not awkward, just full of unsaid things.

Senku parked outside Gen’s apartment a few minutes later. Neither of them moved to open the doors just yet.

Gen turned to him, resting his cheek on his knuckles. “Thanks for the ride.”

Senku nodded. “Of course.”

Another pause.

“Wanna come in?” Gen asked, voice light but eyes watching.
Senku hesitated. “Nah. You’ve had a long day.”

Gen chuckled. “Trying to be noble?”

“Trying to be smart.”

They sat there a moment longer. Then Gen reached for the handle. “Well… thanks again.”

Senku nodded again, but didn’t look away.

As Gen opened the door, he paused, half-turned.

“Hey, Senku?”

“Yeah?”

“I like this,” he said. “Us.”

Senku opened his mouth but Gen had already stepped out and shut the door gently behind him, leaving that final word to settle like warmth in the car.

Senku drove off in silence, hand loose on the wheel.
Us.

The word echoed in his chest, growing louder with every turn of the road.

He’d always known he cared about Gen. Admired him. Needed him.

But tonight, sitting beside him, hearing him laugh, seeing that spark in his eye again it had clicked into something sharper.

Something irreversible.

Senku pulled into his driveway, killed the engine, and sat there for a moment in the stillness.

Then, finally, he said it aloud.

“…I’m in love with him.”

And somehow, saying it didn’t make it scarier.

Just real.

____

The sun had just started spilling golden light through the front windows of Bistro Huddy as early prep began.
Inside, the restaurant was quiet, not yet open, but slowly coming to life.

Senku stood behind the bar, pouring over the supply list on his tablet. Taiju was leaning against a stool, sipping orange juice straight from the carton like a criminal. Chrome was perched on the other side of the bar, fiddling with a shaker he probably wasn’t supposed to touch.

"Okay, but listen," Chrome said, resting his chin in his hand. "Last night when Ruri said I’m 'just Chrome' she said it in this soft way, right? And I swear, for a second, I forgot how to breathe."

Taiju chuckled. “You’re a goner, man.”

“She could ask me to jump into a volcano,” Chrome added dreamily, “and I’d ask which shoes I should wear.”

Senku raised an eyebrow. “You sure it’s not heatstroke?”

“Jealousy doesn’t look good on you,” Chrome smirked.

Taiju laughed again. “Speaking of jealous Senku. You’ve been spaced out since we got here.”

Senku blinked, realizing too late that he’d been staring off into nothing. Or rather, into thoughts of Gen. His voice, his laugh, that stupid smirk when he said, “I like this. Us.”

“Nothing,” Senku said flatly.

Chrome squinted. “Liar.”

Taiju leaned closer, then paused. “Wait… wait. Hold on” He gasped, eyes wide. “Oh my GOD”

“Taiju, no-!”

“YOU LIKE SOMEONE!!”

Senku practically leapt across the bar to clap a hand over his mouth.

Chrome choked on his laughter. “Holy crap! Who is it?!”

“Keep it down,” Senku hissed. “We’re not turning this into a soap opera.”

Chrome leaned forward eagerly. “Is it someone here?!”

Senku didn’t answer.

Taiju pulled Senku’s hand off his mouth, grinning. “Oh man, it is!

That’s why you’ve been all moody. Do they know? Do we know them?”

Senku sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Can we not dissect my personal life at 7:30 in the morning?”

“Absolutely not,” Chrome said. “This is the best thing that’s happened all week.”

Taiju squinted at him. “Wait… it’s not Gen, is it?”

Senku’s silence was answer enough.

Both Chrome and Taiju’s jaws dropped.

“No way!” Chrome whisper-yelled. “You and Gen?!”

“We’re not a thing,” Senku said, annoyed. “I just… realized I like him.”

“Oh my god,” Taiju said, looking delighted. “This is so good.
We’ve got to help.”

Senku immediately held up a hand. “Don’t you dare help. If either of you breathes a word-”

“Who’s breathing a word?” came a voice from the entrance.

They all turned.

Yuzuriha, Ruri, and Kohaku walked in, each holding an iced coffee, laughing about something between them. Kohaku was in her uniform apron already, Ruri wore her hair in a braided bun, and Yuzuriha had her arm looped through Kohaku’s like it was nothing.

“Morning, boys,” Yuzuriha smiled.

Taiju, now slightly panicked, waved with suspicious enthusiasm.

“Hi! Good morning! Nothing weird going on here!”

Ruri raised an eyebrow. “...Okay.”

Chrome mouthed smooth from behind the bar.

As the girls passed by, Kohaku slowed, glancing toward the window.

“Wait…” she pointed. “Is that Ryusui’s car?”

The girls all looked.

Sure enough, the sleek convertible was parked out front early.

Way too early for someone who usually waltzed in five minutes before open, sunglasses still on, sipping imported espresso.

They watched in mild confusion as Ukyo stepped out of the passenger side.

“Ukyo?” Ruri blinked.

He waved toward the car just as Ryusui pulled away, then turned and spotted the three of them standing like statues.

“...Oh no,” Ukyo muttered.

Too late.

Kohaku’s eyes lit up like a hunter spotting prey. “Ukyo. Morning.”

“Sleep well?” Yuzuriha added sweetly, barely hiding her grin.

Ruri just smiled. “Did you stay up late talking to Ryusui about work?”

Ukyo looked between them, cornered like a deer.

“I-uh-”

Before he could escape, the bistro’s front bell chimed.

The doors opened.

Customers began trickling in for the breakfast shift.

Saved by the bell.

“I’ll just go seat someone,” Ukyo said quickly, practically fleeing to the hostess stand.

The girls exchanged looks of victory and curiosity.

“Later,” Kohaku whispered.

“Oh yes,” Yuzuriha replied. “Definitely later.”

Inside, the restaurant buzzed with the beginning of a new day coffee brewing, orders being called, and secrets hanging in the air like steam over a skillet.

But for now, everyone returned to their posts, some a little more flustered than others.

And somewhere behind the bar, Senku watched Gen walk by, laughing with a customer and quietly told himself:

Don't screw this up.

____

The afternoon crowd had rolled in fast and thick.

The restaurant pulsed with energy chatter bouncing off the walls, silverware clinking, shoes tapping across the polished floors. Orders fired off in rapid succession from the kitchen, and the air smelled like seared garlic, rosemary, melting butter and citrus zest.

Gen wove gracefully between tables, his black server’s vest crisp, his smile dazzling. He was in his element.

At table nine, a group of young women were in the middle of a lively girls’ day out. All bright makeup, flowing dresses, and contagious laughter.

“Oh my god,” one of them said, eyes locked on Gen, “Can we get, like, actual cocktails? You’re cute I’m trusting your taste.”

Gen bowed with theatrical flair. “Leave your fates in my very capable hands.”

They giggled as he headed toward the bar, tapping in the order on the POS and calling out, “Four specialty cocktails for table nine! They said make it dangerous.”

Behind the bar, Senku looked up from restocking the bitters shelf.

His heart jolted a little when he saw Gen approach.

“Busy out there?” Senku asked, too casual.

“Like a zoo,” Gen said, leaning against the counter. “A fashionable zoo with overpriced brunch and surprisingly well-dressed lions.”

Senku smirked. “Let me guess mimosas with personality?”

“Obviously.” Gen tilted his head, watching Senku work. “How’s the new bartender doing?”

“Kohaku hasn’t broken a bottle in two days,” Senku said.

“Progress.”

“I’ll send flowers.”

They both laughed softly, the noise of the restaurant around them fading just enough.

Senku opened his mouth to ask something, maybe how Gen’s morning went, maybe to see if he wanted to grab coffee after shift but before he could get a word out…

“Drinks are ready!” Kohaku said brightly, sliding the tray onto the counter.

Gen straightened, giving Senku an apologetic glance. “Duty calls.”

Senku nodded, smile stiff. “Right. Go charm your crowd.”

Gen winked before taking the tray and weaving back into the floor like a ghost slipping through silk.

Senku exhaled and returned to polishing glasses though his eyes lingered on the server’s path just a little too long.

Not far away, Yuzuriha wiped down a table while Kohaku reloaded straws at the drink station.

“You’re doing good today,” Yuzuriha said. “Senku hasn’t growled at you once.”

Kohaku rolled her eyes. “He did flinch when I almost garnished with mint instead of basil, but I’m counting that as a win.”

Yuzuriha smiled. “Getting better’s the point.”

There was a short pause before Kohaku added in a lowered voice, “Hey… can I ask you to do something?”

Yuzuriha looked up, curious. “Of course.”

“Ukyo,” Kohaku said. “And Ryusui. I need to know what’s going on. But if I ask, he’s gonna know I’m fishing. Can you go feel it out?”

Yuzuriha raised an eyebrow, then nodded. “Subtle recon?”

Kohaku nodded. “Exactly.”

“On it.”

Yuzuriha spotted Ukyo rolling silverware at the host stand, standing with his usual quiet grace. She walked over, a soft smile on her lips.

“Hey,” she greeted, slipping beside him. “Got a sec?”

Ukyo smiled. “Always for you.”

She pretended to fuss with a napkin roll. “So… saw you got dropped off this morning.”

He chuckled softly. “Of course you did.”

Yuzuriha bumped his shoulder gently. “You two looked… comfortable.”

Ukyo took a beat before answering. “He asked if I needed a ride.

Just texted me out of nowhere. Said he’d ‘personally guarantee a luxurious and punctual arrival.’”

“That’s so Ryusui,” she said with a smile.

Ukyo shrugged, but there was a warmth under his tone. “He said yesterday he liked me. That he wants to work for it.”

Yuzuriha’s eyes widened slightly. “And what did you say?”

“I said I like hard workers,” Ukyo replied, folding another napkin. “He laughed. He always laughs.”

Yuzuriha tilted her head. “So you’re… open to it?”

Ukyo didn’t answer right away. Then he said, “It’s been a while since someone made me feel… like a priority. He’s loud, and extra, and dramatic, but he means it.”

Yuzuriha squeezed his arm. “Then I hope he keeps proving it.”
Ukyo smiled at her small, sincere. “Thanks.”

She winked. “I’ll report back to Kohaku. For surveillance purposes only.”

Ukyo laughed, shaking his head. “Of course.”

Back on the floor, the restaurant buzzed on but in the little corners and quiet glances, something soft was growing.

Senku kept glancing toward the dining room.

Gen kept checking the bar when he passed by.

And somewhere behind it all, Ukyo’s phone buzzed with a new message.

[Ryusui]: “I told the car to wait outside your place again tomorrow. Just in case. 😉”

Ukyo looked at it for a long moment… and smiled.

___

The afternoon rush hadn’t slowed and neither had the attention on Gen.

At table nine, the girls were still there giggling, flushed from cocktails, and absolutely enamored with the restaurant’s most charming waiter.

“You’re seriously too handsome to be real,” one said, twirling her straw.

“I bet he models on the side,” another added, nudging her friend.

Gen just smiled, eyes half-lidded and voice smooth as velvet.

“Oh, but if I told you all my secrets, I’d have nothing left to keep you coming back.”

They laughed. He leaned in just enough to make them feel like they were the center of the universe. “But since you’ve all been so delightful… might I recommend the tiramisu? It’s rich, dramatic, and full of layers. Kind of like me.”

The table howled with laughter.

Across the room, behind the bar, Senku scowled into the shaker he was holding.

From where he stood, he could see the way Gen smiled at the table how effortlessly they leaned in, desperate for his attention.

He couldn’t even blame them. Gen had always had that effect on people.

But still.

Senku ground his teeth slightly as Gen gently tucked a stray lock of hair behind one girl’s ear before stepping away with a wink and their dessert order in hand.

He didn’t even look back.

Kohaku passed behind the bar, glancing at him. “Everything okay?”

“Fine,” Senku muttered.

He wasn’t fine.

Because for the first time since realizing how he felt about Gen, Senku also realized… he wasn’t the only one who wanted him.

The shift ended around sunset, when the last customers filtered out, full and tipsy and satisfied.

Tsukasa and Kaseki took over the final closing tasks: double-checking locks, balancing registers, flipping chairs while the others clocked out.

Senku wiped down the bar one last time before slipping off his apron.

He turned just in time to see Gen leaving out the side door with Kohaku and Ruri, all three laughing about something he couldn’t hear.

Gen looked back once, saw Senku, and waved lazily before disappearing outside.

Senku waved back stiffly then walked out to his car in silence.

Inside the silence of his car, he sat with the engine running but unmoving.

His hands tightened around the wheel.

“You’re going to have to make him like you.”

The thought was bitter and loud in his head.

Gen had options admirers. People who made him laugh and flirted back without awkward silences or half-baked sarcasm.

Senku… wasn’t charming.

He was blunt. Logical. Difficult.

And he hated this feeling of being behind.

But he didn’t plan to stay there.

If Gen liked being flattered, charmed, noticed?

Then maybe it was time Senku stopped pretending he was above all that.

He wasn’t going to wait around hoping Gen would notice his feelings. No.

He’d earn his affection.

Scientifically. Strategically.

Deliberately.

Senku pulled into his driveway, killed the engine, and stepped into his house with purpose.

By the time he reached his room, he was already thinking through the plan. Step by step.

Flirtation analysis.

Emotional response patterns.

Predictive behavior models based on Gen’s tastes, aesthetic, and conversational cues.

He was Senku Ishigami.

He didn’t lose.

And this wasn’t just chemistry anymore.

This was war.

A war for Gen’s heart.

And dammit he was going to win it.

_____

The morning was still soft and quiet, the sky painted in early shades of pink and gold as Kinro and Ginro stepped off the city bus, bags slung over their shoulders.

Their sneakers clicked on the pavement as they walked toward Bistro Huddy, their shared morning routine as regular as ever.

“Okay but like,” Ginro said, grinning sideways, “is everyone secretly dating someone in this place or what?”

Kinro didn’t even glance at him. “That’s inappropriate workplace behavior. Employees aren’t supposed to be in relationships with each other. It compromises professionalism.”

Ginro rolled his eyes. “Oh please, like you don’t wanna know who’s hooking up with who.”

“I don’t,” Kinro said firmly.

“Really?” Ginro smirked. “So, you don’t wanna know who’s got a thing for their coworker? Or who’s planning to ask someone out during lunch break?”

Kinro’s step faltered.

He hesitated just long enough to make Ginro’s grin widen.

“…You heard something?” Kinro asked, trying to keep his voice even.

Ginro gave a victorious laugh. “I knew it! You act all high and mighty, but you’re just as nosy as me!”

“I am not nosy. I’m… keeping myself informed,” Kinro muttered.

“Uh huh. Well buckle up, ‘cause the waitstaff knows everything.

Like Yuzuriha told Kohaku that Senku’s been snapping at people more than usual and Chrome thinks it’s ‘cause he’s upset Gen are no longer together. Oh and Ukyo? He’s been real quiet lately but he’s been getting picked up by Ryusui, like, daily now.”

Kinro blinked. “Ryusui?”

“Yup. And get this Kohaku thinks Yuzuriha and Taiju are gonna end up dating before winter.”

“Ridiculous,” Kinro said. “That’s all just speculation.”

“Maybe,” Ginro sing-songed, “but I love speculation.”

As they rounded the corner and reached Bistro Huddy, Kinro slowed to a stop.

The doors were still shut.

Ginro blinked. “That’s… weird. It’s Ukyo’s turn to open, right?”

“He’s never late,” Kinro said, frowning now. “Something’s wrong.”

The brothers exchanged a look and walked around the side of the building, cutting through the alley beside the dumpsters.

When they got to the back lot.

They froze.

Standing in the corner of the mostly empty parking lot, partially hidden behind Ryusui’s convertible…

Were Ukyo and Ryusui.

Very much making out.

Ukyo was practically pressed against the car, Ryusui holding his face like he was something precious. It was passionate, but gentle the kind of kiss that said I’ve wanted this for a long time.

Ginro’s mouth fell open.

Kinro’s eyes widened to saucers.

Before either of them could duck away, Ukyo’s eyes flicked open and spotted them.

He jumped, pushing Ryusui back with both hands. “Crap!”

Ryusui blinked, then glanced over Ukyo’s shoulder. “Oh. Morning, gentlemen.”

Ukyo turned bright red. “I-I have to open the restaurant. I’m late.”

Ryusui gave a lopsided, dazed grin, still drunk on the kiss. “i thought we still had some time left.”

Ukyo shoved his hand into his pocket, mumbled something, and marched to the side door, unlocking it as fast as humanly possible.

“See you later, mon amour,” Ryusui called cheerfully as he got into his car.

Ukyo didn’t answer just slipped inside and shut the door behind him.

The brothers stood in silence as Ryusui’s convertible pulled out of the lot and disappeared down the street.

“…Did we just see that?” Ginro whispered.

Kinro blinked. “We saw that.”

There was another long silence.

Then Ginro grinned, vibrating with glee. “I cannot wait for the girls to get here.”

Kinro groaned. “Don’t start rumors”

“It’s not a rumor if we saw it!”

Inside the restaurant, Ukyo leaned against the back door, heart racing, face flushed. He exhaled slowly and muttered to himself:

“…I’m never letting Ryusui kiss me in public again.”

But his smile just the tiniest curve of it, betrayed how much he didn’t mean that.

____

The front entrance chimed softly as the morning team trickled into Bistro Huddy, voices overlapping, laughter echoing off the tile and glass.

Yuzuriha, Kohaku, and Ruri entered together, drinks in hand, deep in a half-sleepy, half-sassy conversation about table placement and who had the best shoes in the building.

“Gen’s shoes are always extra,” Ruri said with a teasing smile.

“I think they’re iconic,” Yuzuriha replied.

“Oh, please,” Gen said, sliding in behind them like smoke, perfectly on cue. “I’m the standard you all secretly aspire to.”

Kohaku rolled her eyes. “Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Before Gen could retort, Ginro suddenly appeared out of nowhere practically sprinting from the kitchen with the energy of a gossip demon possessed.

“You guys-you guys-you guys won't believe what Kinro and I saw this morning!”

His voice was full of dramatic urgency. Gen turned with a sigh.

“Oh great, this should be deeply unprofessional.”

Ginro opened his mouth and stopped cold.

His jaw didn’t just drop. It unhinged.

Behind them, the front door opened again with a soft ding, and Senku Ishigami stepped into the restaurant.

But this wasn’t the usual messy-haired, lab-coat-wearing, apron-clad Senku.

His hair was styled down not loose, but swept back into a low, neat half-ponytail, subtle but elegant. His usual oversized work shirt had been replaced with a fitted button-up, deep forest green, with the sleeves rolled up just enough to show off sharp forearms and long fingers dusted in a bit of chalk from prep work.

He looked… sharp. Composed. Hot.

Yuzuriha audibly gasped. “Oh my god.”

Ruri blinked. “Is that Senku?”

Gen stood frozen, eyes locked, mouth slightly parted.

Ginro, recovering like lightning, grinned like a cat who had just seen the canary and the birdcage on fire. “Gen~?” he said sweetly. “What do you think?”

Gen didn’t answer.

Because Gen was very, very busy staring.

Senku looked up as he crossed the floor and frowned slightly.
“Why are you all looking at me like I invented fire?”

“You look amazing,” Yuzuriha said, smiling warmly. “Seriously, you should wear that more often.”

Senku gave a small shrug, eyes scanning the room as he moved behind the bar. “I ran into my dad and his girlfriend yesterday.

She said I’d look decent in this kind of thing. Figured I’d try it.”

“Wait his girlfriend?” Taiju asked, blinking. “You mean Lillian Weinberg? Like, actual popstar Lillian?!”

“Yeah,” Senku replied, beginning to set up for the shift. “They’ve been together for a while. I think she’s trying to get him to dress better too.”

“That’s wild,” Taiju said. “She’s, like, world-famous!”

“She’s okay,” Senku said. “Kind of loud.”

“Like you aren't her biggest fan,” Gen finally said, managing to recover his voice though it came out softer than usual.

Senku raised an eyebrow. “She’s not even in my top ten.”

Gen raised both brows. “That’s a lie, and I know it.”

Senku shrugged but smirked a little. “Maybe.”

As the team dispersed to start their opening tasks, Gen stayed by the drink station, eyes flicking subtly toward the bar.

Senku was focused, rolling up his sleeves again as he set the liquor order and lined up the glasses with mathematical precision.

The shirt fit him so well snug at the waist, sleeves stretched just right across his shoulders. His hair looked silky, his movements efficient, confident.

And Gen… was spiraling.

He looks good. Like, really good.

Why didn’t I know he had arms like that?

Why is this so my type?

God, how is this so my type??

He leaned against the wall and exhaled, shaking his head.

The same Senku who rolled his eyes at sappy movies, who measured drink temperatures to the exact decimal that Senku… was absolutely messing with his brain right now.

Making him think things he never thought before.

And doesn't know why it feels so right.

____
Gen was not having a normal shift.

For one, the sleeves on Senku’s shirt were rolled just high enough to show the edge of a faint scar, something from childhood, maybe, or science and Gen kept accidentally staring at it.

For another, Senku was… acting weird.

Not in the usual Senku-is-an-awkward-genius kind of way.

No, this was deliberate.

Too deliberate.

Gen had just dropped off a drink order at the bar when Senku handed him the finished cocktails only, this time, he let his fingers brush against Gen’s a little too long.

Gen raised an eyebrow. “Did you just… touch my hand on purpose?”

Senku, who looked annoyingly smug, replied, “I had to make sure you didn’t drop the drinks. Your hands were trembling.”

Gen blinked. “They were not.”

Senku leaned forward, low enough to meet his eyes, and said smoothly, “Prove it.”

Gen made a soft choking noise in his throat and walked away before he could say something wildly inappropriate in front of the lunch rush.

It didn’t stop there.

A little later, Gen passed the bar again and muttered, “We’re out of lemon slices.”

Without a word, Senku sliced a lemon in front of him, slow and methodical. “Do you want thin slices or wedges, Gen?”

“…Slices,” Gen replied, cautious.

“Of course,” Senku said, sliding them into a bowl, meeting Gen’s gaze. “Anything for you.”

Gen blinked rapidly. “Okay, who are you and what did you do with the emotionally constipated scientist I’ve worked next to for a year?”

Senku just smirked, tossed the knife in the sink, and turned back to his prep without another word.

Gen’s heart beat faster.

What the hell is happening?

Meanwhile, in the kitchen...

Yuzuriha sat on a stool near the sink, sipping from a water bottle, laughing as Taiju power-washed a mountain of dishes with way too much joy for someone elbow-deep in suds.

“and then he slipped and fell into the mop bucket!” Taiju said, snorting.

“No way!” Yuzuriha giggled.

“You had to be there. Chrome laughed so hard he dropped a whole tray of bowls.”

Yuzuriha wiped her eyes, grinning. “This place is so chaotic.”

“Best job I’ve had,” Taiju said cheerfully, rinsing a plate.

“Because of the people.”

Yuzuriha blushed slightly and looked down at her water bottle, smiling softly.

Before anything else could be said, Ginro’s voice is loudly heard through the kitchen.

“OKAY. I’ve been holding this in all day and I’m going to explode.

Are you ready? You’re not ready. No one is ready.”

Taiju blinked. “Ginro?”

“I saw Ukyo and Ryusui making out in the parking lot this morning.”
Yuzuriha dropped her water bottle.

“What!?” she shrieked.

“I told you no one was ready!”

Taiju’s eyes widened. “Wait, seriously?!”

“Dead serious,” Ginro said proudly. “Kinro saw it too. We were both scarred. Scarred.”

Yuzuriha looked like she was about to combust. “Oh my god, this is so cute. Wait wait, I have to tell Ruri and Kohaku right now.”

“Not yet!” Taiju said, drying his hands. “Shouldn’t we, like… give them a chance to tell everyone themselves?”

“She’s right, though,” Ginro added, pointing at Yuzuriha. “Those two are gonna explode if they find out we knew and didn’t tell them.”

Taiju sighed. “Okay, fine. But nicely.”

Yuzuriha was already halfway out of the kitchen. “Don’t worry, I’ll be very subtle.”

Ginro gave a big smile. “She's lying.”

Up front

Ukyo stood near the hostess stand, hands folded behind his back, eyes closed.

He inhaled deeply… then sighed.

“…They know.”

He could feel it.

The whispery glances. The way Ginro had looked at him earlier like a kid who just saw Santa kissing the Tooth Fairy. The way Yuzuriha and Ruri had been giggling too loudly every time he walked by.

He was doomed.

“Ryusui’s going to think it’s hilarious,” he muttered under his breath.

And the worst part?

He wasn’t even mad about it.

As he looked out the front window, he caught sight of Ryusui across the street, chatting with someone in a very charming pose.

Ukyo sighed again.

“Yeah. I’m in trouble.”

____

The lunch rush had passed, leaving behind the low hum of conversation and the gentle clinking of glassware. The golden afternoon light spilled through the Bistro Huddy windows, casting long shadows across the polished bar.

Senku stood behind the counter, pretending to polish a glass, though his mind was elsewhere entirely.

He glanced for what felt like the twentieth time that hour toward the dining room.

Gen was there, laughing at something a customer said, his smile natural and unbothered, silver hair falling just right. He hadn’t so much as acknowledged Senku’s attempts at flirting all day.

Which made no sense.

Senku never did anything without a plan. He had observed, analyzed, and tested. He’d read Gen’s reactions to others how he responded to charm, wit, confidence. And Senku could be charming. He could be witty. He could even be confident when he wanted to.

But when it came to Gen, nothing seemed to work.

“Stupid pheromone logic,” Senku muttered under his breath.

“You and your boyfriend fighting or something?”

Senku looked up, startled.

An older man probably mid-sixties, dressed in a weathered bomber jacket and faded jeans sat at the far end of the bar, nursing a neat whiskey. His eyes were sharp, but kind, watching Senku with the tired gaze of someone who’d seen too much.

“Excuse me?” Senku said, confused.

The man gestured loosely with his glass. “You keep lookin’ over at him. Tall one. Pretty face. Waiter.”

Senku blinked. “Gen?”

The man nodded. “Yeah. You two fighting?”

Senku stiffened. “He’s… not my boyfriend.”

“Huh,” the man said simply, sipping his drink. “Could’ve fooled me.”

Senku opened his mouth, then closed it.

The man continued, voice low and thoughtful. “You look at him like he’s the best damn puzzle you’ve ever tried to solve and like it’s killin’ you that you can’t crack it.”

Senku didn’t answer, but something in his chest twisted a little.

The man set his drink down and leaned forward on the counter.

“Listen, kid. You wanna fix whatever this is? Don’t try to win him with some calculated plan. Don’t give him what you think he wants. Give him something that means something. Something that matters to you. That’s the part people miss.”

Senku frowned. “Why are you telling me this?”

The man smiled, not unkindly. “Because I didn’t do it. And now I'm giving advice to bartenders instead of having someone to go home to.”

He tossed a few bills on the bar and stood. “You seem like a smart kid. Smarter than me, anyway. Just be honest with him.”

Senku watched as the man walked out, the door chiming softly behind him.

He stood there, glass forgotten in his hands, eyes trailing back to where Gen stood across the restaurant.

He wasn’t laughing now. Just talking with a table of regulars, his voice low and polite. He glanced toward the bar just for a second and caught Senku staring.

Their eyes met.

Gen blinked, surprised.

Senku looked away quickly, heart stuttering.

"Don't give him what you think he wants. Give him something that matters to you."

He thought about the bar, about their long nights cleaning up after closing, about the first time Gen had ever smiled at him without teasing in his tone.

Yeah.

Maybe it was time to stop calculating and start being honest.

_____

Senku wasn’t usually one to dwell on things.

He liked facts. Numbers. Data. Tangible inputs and observable results.

Which is why it was driving him insane that after his very direct, very real confession to Gen the night before… absolutely nothing happened.

They’d talked a little longer, Gen made a joke about the cola being too sweet, they both laughed… and then they said goodbye.

Just like any other night.

No kiss.

No answer.

Not even a meaningful look.

Just… business as usual.

“What the hell does that mean?” Senku muttered as he walked into Bistro Huddy, still early, the floors freshly mopped and the air filled with the scent of citrus cleaner and espresso grounds.

He set his bag down behind the bar, pulled his hair into his usual style now down in a half-tied look he hadn’t stopped wearing since Gen said he liked it and tried not to think too hard.

Are we dating now? Did he not take it seriously? Was it a no? Is he still thinking about it?

Senku groaned softly and slammed a hand on the counter. “This is why I prefer test tubes.”

People started to trickle in. First Taiju, always bright and early.

Then Yuzuriha and Ruri, who entered giggling and holding iced coffees. Kohaku trailed behind them, already tying her apron, and the ever-mellow Ukyo stepped in seconds before Ryusui’s engine purred past the window.

Eventually, everyone had gathered even Gen, fashionably a few minutes late and somehow glowing in the morning light like he hadn’t just caused Senku a mental breakdown last night.

Senku stared.

Gen smiled casually at him. “Morning, bartender.”

What does that MEAN?

Before Senku could form a thought, Tsukasa stepped out of the back office.

“Everyone gather up.”

A hush fell over the team as they circled up in front of the counter.

“Before we begin prep,” Tsukasa said, arms crossed, “I have a few important announcements.”

From beside him, Hyoga stepped forward, hands folded neatly behind his back, an odd glint in his eye.

Tsukasa continued, “First: As of today, Hyoga will no longer be acting manager of Bistro Huddy.”

Gasps erupted.

“What?”

“Wait, for real?”

“Why??”

Hyoga raised a hand. “It’s a good thing. Homura and I are engaged.”

The room exploded.

Kohaku’s eyes widened. “You’re marrying Homura Momiji?!”

“She’s been his girlfriend for years!” Ruri whispered, stunned.

“She always gave me villain vibes,” Ginro said, “but, like, the hot kind.”

“Congrats!” Yuzuriha beamed.

Hyoga gave a small nod, the tiniest smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Thank you. I’ll be stepping away to spend more time with her and start our next chapter.”

Senku blinked. “Wait. So who’s going to be manager now?”

Tsukasa spoke again. “That’s the second part of the announcement. Tonight, during the shift, I’ll be observing each of you and making a decision on who should step up as our new manager.”

Another wave of gasps.

“Wait, anyone could be manager?” Taiju said, eyes wide.

“Well,” Tsukasa smirked faintly, “anyone qualified.”

Kohaku cracked her knuckles. “Bring it on.”

“I’ve always had managerial energy,” Ginro said proudly.

Kinro gave him a sideways glance. “You screamed when we ran out of lemons.”

“I was being passionate!”

Senku folded his arms, brain already running calculations.

A manager position changes everything. Hours.

Responsibilities. Pay.

Power.

But also… more time here. With Gen.

He stole another glance at the illusionist, who was casually chatting with Ruri about the espresso machine and looked as unbothered as ever.

Does he even care?

Tsukasa clapped his hands once. “Alright. Let’s prep for the shift. Good luck, everyone.”

As the group scattered, whispers began.

Plans formed. Ambitions awakened. Quiet rivalries stirred beneath the surface.

And through it all, Senku wiped down the bar, his brain filled with two things he couldn’t quantify:

Whether or not he was in a relationship.

Whether or not he was about to become manager.
He glanced up.

Across the restaurant, Gen looked back at him, just for a second.

They both smiled.

And just like that, Senku’s nerves twisted again.

____

The doors of Bistro Huddy burst open at lunch, and with them came the chaos.

The unspoken competition to win the manager spot was in full swing and Tsukasa, calm and unreadable, stood quietly near the kitchen entrance, clipboard in hand, watching everyone closely like a silent hawk.

The staff?

A spectrum of performance.

_____

Taiju was in his element.

He carried five plates at once, smiling through the heat of the kitchen and the bustle of the dining floor. “Table seven, your steaks are here! Enjoy!” he boomed, accidentally knocking over a salt shaker which he caught mid-air. “Reflexes, baby!” he shouted, flashing Tsukasa a grin.

Tsukasa didn’t even blink. Just noted it.

Kohaku was not about to lose.

She moved with lightning precision, flipping drinks over her shoulder, remembering every customer’s name.

“A whisky neat? Done.”

“A tequila sunrise, alcohol free? Yes Maman.”

She winked at Tsukasa every time she passed him. “You seeing this, boss?”

Tsukasa nodded faintly. “I am.”

Gen, of course, thrived.

Charm dialed to eleven, selling specials like they were liquid gold.

“These mojitos are hand-muddled by our new and very handsome bartender,” he told a table of women, gesturing toward Senku with a wink.

Senku, overhearing, rolled his eyes and muttered, “I’m going to throw a lime at him.”

Gen turned back to his customers, batting eyelashes and stacking tips.

Kinro was all sharp lines and no-nonsense.

He ran the floor like a general, keeping the other waiters in line, double-checking orders, and practically glaring at people into efficiency. A customer complimented his professionalism. He bowed. “Thank you. I strive for precision.”

Chrome, on the other hand… was on fire.
Literally.

“THE PASTA! THE PASTA’S ON FIRE!”

“IT’S JUST SINGED!” he shouted from the back, fanning flames with a cutting board.

Kaseki had to step in. “YOU'RE USING TOO MUCH OIL, CHROME!”

Ginro, meanwhile, dropped a tray of drinks… again.
“I panicked! They looked at me too hard!” he whined while Ruri quietly helped mop up, still calm and collected, helping out wherever needed.

Yuzuriha glided through the chaos, assisting at the host stand, helping in the kitchen, and sneaking reassuring words to anyone faltering. “You’ve got this,” she whispered to Chrome, who looked like he might cry.

Senku?

Calm. Methodical. Exactly the way he always was.

He mixed drinks with surgical precision, kept the bar running without a hitch, and only once muttered under his breath, “This is idiotic.”

He didn’t show off.

He didn’t perform.

But he watched everything including Gen, who glided past him again with that stupid, perfect smile.

Is he trying to win? Or is he just being Gen?

The front doors swung open mid-shift with a dramatic flourish.
In walked Ryusui, sunglasses on indoors, hair immaculate, grin obnoxious.

“Look at my glorious empire flourishing!” he shouted, hands wide.

Ginro, carrying a pitcher, whispered to Yuzuriha, “Why does he talk like he’s narrating a movie?”

Ryusui ignored the whispers and made his way to the front where Ukyo was greeting customers.

“Darling,” Ryusui said, leaning on the hostess stand. “You’re practically glowing. I knew this job would suit you.”

Ukyo didn’t even look up from the reservation list. “You’re in the way.”

“Oh, come now”

“I’m trying to become manager,” Ukyo said flatly, checking a name off. “And you flirting with me in public is not helping.”

Ryusui leaned closer, voice low and playful. “I could just make you manager.”

Ukyo’s eyes flicked up, unamused. “That’s abuse of power.”
“I am the power.”

“Then I’m telling the boss.”

Ryusui grinned. “I am the boss.”

Ukyo finally cracked a smirk. “You’re insufferable.”

And then Ryusui kissed him short, sweet, scandalous.

Ukyo blinked, cheeks pink, and then kissed him back quickly before pulling away.

“Stop distracting me.”

“Too late,” Ryusui said, laughing as he walked away, “I’m already imagining you in a tie.”

Ukyo groaned but couldn’t quite hide the small, pleased smile on his face.

Meanwhile, the rest of the staff continued pushing themselves.

Even Kaseki was strangely focused, double-checking prep work and barking instructions with renewed intensity.

Everyone had something to prove.

Some were in it for the power.

Some for pride.

Some because they simply loved the restaurant.

But for Senku, it wasn’t about the title.

It was about control over his life, over this strange, ever-changing place and, he admitted begrudgingly, maybe… maybe it was also to stay close to Gen.

As the shift roared forward, Tsukasa observed.

Silent.

Stoic.

Judging.

And none of them, not even Senku, could tell what he was thinking.

____

The final bell of the shift rang out like a sigh of relief.

Chairs were stacked, counters wiped, and the kitchen finally quieted after a long day of chaos, ambition, and overachieving.

Everyone was tired.

Physically. Mentally. Emotionally.

They gathered near the front, some slouched in booths, others leaning on counters or sipping leftover mocktails from the bar.

Tomorrow, Tsukasa will announce who the new manager will be.
But for now? They were just coworkers and friends decompressing after a long shift.

Hyoga, oddly relaxed with a rare smile, stood among them, listening as everyone shared their thoughts on his engagement.

“I still can’t believe you’re getting married,” Yuzuriha said softly.

“That’s really beautiful.”

Hyoga nodded. “Thank you. She’s… everything.”

Kohaku cracked her knuckles. “I didn’t even know you liked people romantically. I thought you were too busy doing stealth stuff and glaring.”

Laughter rippled through the group.

Chrome leaned forward. “How’d you know she was the one?”
Hyoga paused for a second before replying. “It wasn’t one moment. It was… thousands of them. All adding up.”

They all quieted, thoughtful.

Then it was Gen.

He stood near the counter, looking down into a half-empty glass, his voice softer than usual. “I think… the best kind of love is the kind where you’re not trying to change each other. Where you love someone as they are.” He glanced up, but not at anyone in particular. “You’re not a perfect match. Maybe not even compatible in the traditional sense. But still… you choose each other.”

His gaze slid unashamed across the room to Senku, who was leaned up against the bar, arms folded, eyes already on him.

Eyes full of something warm. Something dangerous. Something real.

Gen smiled faintly. “That’s the kind of love I want. Complicated. Honest. Wild. But true.”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward.

It was full.

Thick with meaning. Heavy with something unspoken between them.

Senku’s grip on the bar tightened just slightly, but he didn’t look away.

He couldn’t.

Soon after, the group began to break apart.

Kaseki,Ginro and Kinro headed out with a tired wave.

Kohaku, still bouncing with adrenaline, offered to race Ryusui to their cars, and he dramatically accepted.

Ukyo, ever quiet, slipped out with a content sigh, muttering something about needing sleep before his boyfriend came knocking in the morning.

That left Yuzuriha and Ruri with closing duties.

“Do you two want us to stay?” Chrome offered, pulling his jacket over one shoulder.

Taiju nodded. “We’ll help wipe down the last few tables.”

The girls smiled gratefully, and the four of them got to work, light laughter filling the room.

Meanwhile, Senku grabbed his keys and turned to Gen, who was checking his phone and pretending not to look up every two seconds.

“Want a ride?” Senku asked, voice casual.

Gen looked up, lips curling. “Is that your smooth way of extending our very exclusive after-hours hangout?”

Senku smirked. “Take it or leave it.”

Gen didn’t hesitate. “I’ll take it.”

The ride to Gen’s place was quiet… at first.

The radio hummed softly with lo-fi jazz. Streetlights streaked past the windows, painting soft gold shadows across Gen’s face.

Senku glanced at him. “So. Last night…”

Gen raised an eyebrow, smiling faintly. “Ah. The world-shaking confession?”

Senku let out a quiet laugh. “You didn’t say anything after.”

“I didn’t want to ruin the moment,” Gen said, turning in his seat slightly. “Or maybe… I just wasn’t ready to say it back until I knew you meant it.”

“I meant it,” Senku said immediately. “Every word.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then Gen smiled, soft and real.

“I like you too, Senku. A lot. In fact…” He chuckled to himself.

“It’s infuriating how much I like you. I thought I was over it back when we first met, you made me that ridiculous science cola and I thought, ‘Oh no, this might be it.’ And now? You go and say that to me? Make me a drink again?”

He huffed. “Unfair.”

Senku chuckled under his breath, gripping the steering wheel with a hint of pink in his ears.

They pulled up to Gen’s apartment building.

Neither moved.

The tension that had been simmering between them for weeks now sat in the air, undeniable and electric.

Gen finally opened the door. “Goodnight, bartender.”

Senku watched him go, pulse pounding.

Gen walked halfway up the path, then stopped, hand on the door.

And just when he was about to turn the knob.

“Gen.”

He turned.

Senku had stepped out of the car, standing behind him.

Before Gen could say anything, Senku reached forward, grabbed him by the collar, and kissed him.

Not awkward.
Not rushed.
Not hesitant.

Gen gasped quietly but melted into it, arms sliding up around Senku’s shoulders, mouth parting, breath catching.

When Senku finally pulled away, he was smiling boyish and sincere.

“Goodnight, waiter.”

Gen blinked, dazed. “You’re not gonna come in?”
Senku smirked. “I’m already late to overthink everything that just happened.”

Gen let out a breathy laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m yours.”

Gen stood there, stunned, as Senku walked back to his car.
And when the door closed and the engine hummed to life, Gen was still smiling, fingers brushing his lips.

“Can’t wait for tomorrow…” he whispered to himself, stepping inside with a heart so full it hurt.

_____

The morning light spilled through the Bistro Huddy windows, warm and golden, casting a soft glow on the polished floors and prepped countertops. The team was gathered near the bar, everyone buzzing with anticipation.

Tsukasa stood at the front of the group, arms crossed and unreadable as ever. The restaurant hadn’t opened yet. This meeting was for the staff alone.

Today, they would find out who the new manager would be.
Everyone was here.

Chrome and Ruri stood shoulder-to-shoulder, fingers brushing.

Kohaku and Yuzuriha whispered and giggled behind their hands.

Ukyo leaned against the wall, quiet but clearly expecting chaos.

Senku and Gen were standing side by side hoping nobody would notice how close they were, but their glances and smiles at each other gave them away.

And Ryusui had somehow managed to sneak in with a coffee and throw an arm around Ukyo before the announcement even began.

Tsukasa cleared his throat.

“I’ll make this quick,” he said, voice steady. “After reviewing everyone's performance, attitude, and dedication… I’ve made my decision.”

Everyone leaned forward slightly.

“The new manager of Bistro Huddy,” Tsukasa said, “will be… Taiju Oki.”

Gasps. Cheers. Applause.

Taiju’s jaw dropped. “Wha-ME?!”

“Yes,” Tsukasa confirmed with a rare smile. “You’ve consistently supported your team, stayed optimistic under pressure, and proven yourself to be a reliable leader.”

Everyone turned toward Taiju, clapping and smiling. Some gave him fist bumps or back slaps, others shouted their congratulations.

Taiju laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Wow. I-Thank you! Seriously, this means a lot. I promise I’ll do my best as your manager. You can all count on me!”

“You already are someone we count on,” said Yuzuriha, voice soft but proud.

“She’s right,” Kohaku added. “You’re the glue around here.”

Taiju beamed, cheeks flushed. “Okay, okay! Enough praise, I’ll cry!”

Tsukasa raised a brow. “If anyone else has anything they want to share… now’s a good time.”

There was a long pause.

Then Chrome stepped forward, awkward but determined.

“U-uh… I have something!” he said, voice cracking slightly.

All eyes turned to him.

Chrome rubbed his neck, glancing at Ruri, who gave him an encouraging smile. “I just… I wanted to say that, um… me and Ruri are together.”

A beat.

Then: “FINALLY!”

That was Ginro, of course.

Everyone clapped and cheered as Ruri giggled quietly, cheeks tinted pink.

“Congrats, you two!” said Kaseki, giving Chrome a proud thumbs-up.

“Well,” said Taiju, clearing his throat dramatically. “Since we’re on the topic… me and Yuzuriha are also dating.”

“TAIJU.”

That was Gen, faux scandalized.

Yuzuriha blushed but smiled. “We didn’t want to make a big deal of it, but… yeah.”

Another round of congratulations, whooping, and teasing followed.

Then, without even moving from his spot, Ukyo casually raised a hand. “Yeah, and everyone already knows I’m dating Ryusui, so… thanks in advance for the applause.”

Cue laughter.

Ryusui dramatically bowed, as if accepting an award. “I’d like to thank the academy-”

Tsukasa raised an eyebrow, amused but still composed.

Then came a quiet voice, dry and sarcastic.

“I’m not standing up,” Senku said, “but I should probably say it before Gen faints from the pressure he and I are together now.”
The entire room froze.

All eyes swung toward Gen, who was definitely pink in the face but not denying anything. Instead, he grinned and crossed his arms.

“Well,” he said, voice airy, “that’s one way to make an announcement.”

There was a long, stunned silence.

Then Kohaku, deadpan:

“Wait. Weren’t you already together?”

“…Seriously,” Ginro added. “I thought they were going to announce their engagement or something.”

Everyone burst into laughter.

Senku shrugged. Gen rolled his eyes, but his smile didn’t fade.
Everyone offered congratulations, some sincere, some teasing, some borderline chaotic (Ginro), but all genuine.

Tsukasa let it go on for a moment longer before clearing his throat again.

“Alright,” he said. “Love is clearly in the air. But let’s get back to what we’re here to do: run a successful restaurant.”

With laughter still lingering, the staff began to move, naturally gravitating toward their respective roles and in many cases, their partners.

Chrome held the door for Ruri as they headed toward the kitchen.

Kohaku slung her apron over her shoulder while teasing Taiju and Yuzuriha.

Ukyo rolled his eyes as Ryusui followed him like a lovesick puppy.

Gen, still smirking, made a quick joke before heading to check his section.

And Senku, back behind the bar, let himself smile quietly as he watched it all unfold.

____

As the doors of Bistro Huddy opened to the public and the team got to work, the camera of the world might’ve pulled back…

And Tsukasa, now the acting general manager, looked around the bustling dining room, expression thoughtful.

“What is Bistro Huddy?”

“It’s not just a restaurant. It’s the chaos of a kitchen, the spark of romance, the laughter between shifts. It’s the late-night confessions and the morning rush.”

“It’s the sound of dishes clattering, customers laughing, and someone yelling about being out of lemons.”

“It’s where misfits find family. Where rivals fall in love. Where everyone, no matter how strange, has a place.”
He folded his arms, eyes softening slightly.

“This… this is what you get when you come to Bistro Huddy."

------- END —---