Inside, the bar exploded with color and sound—balloons bobbed from the ceiling, streamers twirled in neon arcs, tablecloths splashed with rainbow patterns. Upbeat music thumped, a heartbeat to the chaos, as staff darted about, mixing Holi-themed cocktails—Rainbow Bliss swirling pink and gold, Splash of Joy fizzing blue and green.
Oki, Ashi, and the Boss burst in, a trio of drenched revelry—Oki's energy unbound, Ashi's smile soft but glowing, the Boss's jacket a soggy trophy. Oki snatched the DJ's mic, leaping onto a chair with gusto. "Oi, everyone—eyes here!" she bellowed, voice cutting through the din, rallying the crowd like a festival general.
The buzz settled, and the bar staff swept in—trays piled high with spicy samosas, golden pakoras crunching hot, and Holi snacks bursting with color—red chutney swirls, yellow-dusted bites. Drinks clinked, glasses shimmering with festive hues, the air thick with spice and cheer.
Oki hoisted her Rainbow Bliss, Ashi and the Boss flanking her with their own—Splash of Joy fizzing in their grips. "To a day of fun, laughter, and memories we'll never lose!" Oki toasted, glasses clinking sharp, a crystalline chime over the roar.
The Boss smirked, raising her voice above the din. "Eat 'til your hearts burst—it's my treat tonight!" "Yeeeaaaahhh!"—the crowd roared back, diving into the feast as the night blazed on.
Midnight draped the bar in a hush, the once-roaring chaos of "The Lounge" fading to a stillness. Colored streamers drooped, balloons sagged, and the air hung heavy with the scent of spilled Rainbow Bliss. Some employees slumped over tables, glasses clutched in sleep, while others had slipped away into the night. The party's fire had dimmed to embers.
Rafta shuffled over, Oki draped across his back—her arms dangling, ponytail limp, snoring soft against his shoulder. He shook Haari's shoulder, jolting him from a doze. "Hey, Haari—wake up, man!"
Haari snapped awake, eyes hazy, blinking slow like a stirring from a dream. "Huh?" he mumbled, voice thick, head lolling as the bar's warm glow blurred into focus.
"Don't you wanna head home?" Rafta said, shifting Oki's weight, her quiet breaths puffing against his neck. "Boss bailed already—you should go too."
Haari rubbed his eyes, squinting—Rafta stood steady, Oki a sleepy bundle on his back. "Yeah… I'll go," he rasped, pushing up from his chair. His legs wobbled, balance fleeing—thud!—he crashed to the floor, a tangle of limbs and groans.
"Careful, man!" Rafta yelped, steadying himself, Oki stirring faintly. "I'm outta here—watch yourself getting home!"
Haari staggered to the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face—droplets glinting like stars in the dim light—then gulped a glass, grounding his shaky feet. He trudged toward the door, the bar's silence pressing in—until his gaze snagged. Ashi sprawled on the floor amid a huddle of women employees, her hair splayed wild, Ane curled beside her, both out cold.
"Oh—they're still here," Haari muttered, a flicker of warmth cutting through his haze. He fumbled for his phone, calling a taxi, and soon herded Ane and Ashi into the backseat—two sleepy s slumped against him, the night a quiet cocoon.
The taxi hummed through the city, dropping Ane at her place first—her mumbled thanks fading as she stumbled inside. Then, at Ashi's apartment building, Haari hoisted her onto his back, her weight light but solid, her breath warm against his neck. He shuffled to the elevator, keys jangling soft as he fished them from her purse.
Ashi stirred, eyes fluttering half-open, hazy and lost. Someone's carrying me… Her head lolled, vision swimming—then sleep reclaimed her, pulling her under like a tide.
Haari nudged her apartment door open, the faint scent of curry lingering from days past. He eased her onto her bed, her room a soft blur of shadows and moonlight. As he set her down, Ashi's eyes cracked open again, bleary but catching his silhouette. Oh… Kichiro-san… The thought drifted, faint and warm she smiled, before her lids drooped, sleep winning once more.
Haari lingered a beat, her peaceful face glowing in the dim—then slipped out, the door clicking shut, a quiet exit under the midnight sky.
The office lay shrouded in a rare, heavy quiet the next morning, the ghost of last night's Holi revelry haunting every corner. Desks bore faint streaks of color—red smudges, blue flecks—while the air hung thick with the stale scent of Rainbow Bliss and spicy pakoras. Employees shuffled like zombies, eyes half-lidded, movements sluggish—testaments to a night that burned too bright, too long.
Oki burst in, a whirlwind of energy, her ponytail bouncing as if the midnight chaos never touched her. "Morning, slackers!" she chirped, her voice a jolt against the gloom, her grin a beacon in the fog of fatigue.
Rafta, Haari, and Ashi slumped in a row, heads plopped on their desks like fallen warriors—dark circles carved under their eyes, faces pale canvases of exhaustion. They barely twitched at Oki's cheer, a trio of wrecks.
"Yesterday was so fun!" Oki barreled on, undeterred, hands on hips. "! I wish I could spend my whole year like that."
Three heads lifted slow, creaking like rusty hinges—Rafta's scowl, Haari's droop, Ashi's squint—eyes bleary, voices syncing in a deadpan chorus: "We wish that wish of yours never comes true."
Oki blinked, head tilting, a puzzled fox caught mid-leap. "Huh? Why'd you say that?"
Haari sighed, a dramatic gust that ruffled papers, his head lolling back. "Cause we're not planing to die anytime soon, Habi-san. Some of us like sleep."
Oki puffed up, feigning a pout, hands slamming to her hips. . "What a bunch of weaklings you are! You know, you could use a little more energy."
The trio snapped upright—chairs scraping, eyes narrowing—a sudden flare of irritation cutting through their haze. Oki's bravado flickered, her step faltering as their stares darkened, a standoff brewing.
"What's up?!" she yelped, voice wobbling, hands rising like a shield. "Why're you glaring at me like that?!"
They lurched forward, a synchronized menace—Rafta's scowl, Haari's droop, Ashi's squint tightening with every step. Oki's eyes ballooned, her confidence crumbling. "H-Hey—don't come closer!" she pleaded, arms flailing.
Then—THUD!—all three collapsed face-first to the floor, a slapstick pile of exhaustion, sprawled like ragdolls. Dust puffed, silence reigned.
Oki blinked, jaw dropping. "Eh?! How do you sleep like that?!"
They groaned, hauling themselves up, slumping back into chairs—heads hitting desks again, a synchronized crash. Ashi's voice rasped from her slump, muffled against wood. "Another party like that, and I'll need a week to recover—I can't even see straight."
Rafta mumbled, face mashed into his arm, "I feel like I danced for hours with lead weights attached to my feet. Plus, I think I'm still tasting those spicy snacks from last night."
Haari, eyes screwed shut, groaned low, "Why're my arms dead? I Can't even lift my coffee—did I do push-ups in my sleep?"
Oki grinned, leaning in, her voice a teasing sing-song. "You did challenge me to arm-wrestling last night—remember?"
Haari's eyes snapped open, wide and wild, a jolted awake. "Oh—that was real?! I thought it was a nightmare!"
Rafta's weak chuckle rumbled, head still down. "The nightmare where you lost—bad?"
Oki laughed, flexing her arms with a wince. "I won, but my biceps are screaming—guess I'm not invincible
Then the Boss swept in, a vibrant storm cutting the gloom—her suit crisp, hair gleaming, a stark jolt against the sea of exhaustion. Clap! Her hands slammed together, a sharp crack jolting the room—heads snapped up, a ripple of startled *"Eep!"*s echoing.
"Alright, team!" she boomed, voice bright, eyes glinting. "I know we're all a bit tired today, but let's try to power through. And remember, what happens at 'Lounge' stays at 'Lounge'!"
A few new faces shuffled into Haari's department, temporary reinforcements, their steps hesitant amid the haze.
Groans rumbled, but faint chuckles slipped through, a tired laugh track. The Boss grinned, her twinkle undimmed. "Kidding! Well, sorta. But seriously—yesterday was gold. We needed that."
Oki bounced forward, hand shooting up like a spark igniting. "Boss, I have a suggestion for the next event!"
The Boss arched a brow, amused, leaning in. "Oh? And what's that?"
Oki's eyes flared, a festival gleam. "A sleepover party! We could wear pajamas, have pillow fights, and stay up all night talking about our deepest secrets!" Her fists pumped, a whirlwind of hype.
Haari, Rafta, and Ashi—slumped in their row—groaned in unison, a chorus of despair. "Nooo—we need sleep, not more insomnia fuel!" Their voices rasped, heads lolling.
Oki pouted, arms crossing. "You're no fun! I'll make it less brutal than last night—promise!"
The Boss chuckled, a low, warm rumble. "I think we'll give it some time before the next big event, Oki. Give 'em time to resurrect first."
Rafta, half-melted into his desk, mumbled, "A month… please… minimum…"
Oki skipped over, patting his back with a laugh. "Fine, fine—mercy granted! But next time? Epic—you'll see!" The trio groaned again, but faint smiles curled their lips—exhausted, yes, but tethered to these wild, irreplaceable moments.
The day crept on, the office stirring slow—typing clacked, voices murmured, a laugh or two piercing the fog, life seeping back into the bones.
The scene faded to the ramen shop, a pocket of old-world charm tucked in the city's hum. Lanterns glowed soft amber, casting shadows on weathered wood, the air thick with broth's salty tang. Haari sat at the counter, a lone figure, chopsticks swirling the last dregs in his bowl—slow, lazy loops, his eyes half-lidded, lost in a post-Holi haze.
The Old Man scrubbed the counter across from him, his wrinkled hands gliding smooth, a craftsman's rhythm. He glanced up, brow arching, voice gruff but warm. "You've been staring at that bowl like it's a puzzle. Did I mess up the seasoning today?"
Haari blinked, chopsticks pausing, roused from a daydream. The Old Man's tease hung there, a quiet hook tugging him back to the moment.
"You've been staring at that bowl for a while now," the old man said, raising an eyebrow. "Did I mess up the seasoning today?"
Haari smirked, setting his spoon down with a clink. "Nah—just thinking. Didn't you ever get tired of this?"
The Old Man chuckled, leaning on the counter, wood creaking under his weight. "Tired? Kid, I've run this place longer than you've been born. It's my life."
Haari nodded slow, eyes drifting to the stack of bento boxes behind—neatly packed, each a little labor of love waiting for familiar hands. "I get that," he murmured, voice low. "But what about… other stuff? Dreams? Things you wanted before this shop swallowed you whole? Was this your dream?"
The Old Man's face softened, a flicker of something distant in his eyes—memories stirring like broth on a simmer. "Heh. Dreams, huh? Guess I had a few. But life has a way of steering you down different roads."
A voice sliced through, bright and smooth, from the doorway. "Honey, you haven't closed up yet?"
Haari turned toward the entrance, expecting to see a frail old lady—after all, the old man had to be in his seventies. But what he saw instead made his breath hitch.
She was stunning. Seventy years old, sure, but defying every tick of time. Tall hight. Long, dusty silver hair cascaded down her back, shimmering like moonlight under the dim shop glow. Her skin, untouched by age, a soft luster, and her figure—whoa—curves sculpted in all the right places, the kind that'd make a jealous. She moved with a grace that owned the room—confident, alluring, a silver-haired queen who'd stop traffic without trying.
Haari blinked. Then swiveled to the Old Man. Then back to her. Then back to him. His brain short-circuited, a reel spinning wild. No way… No freaking way… This old geezer? He must've saved a kingdom—or ten—in a past life. There's no other explanation to this!