Chapter One
He remembered the first time he saw the boy.
Races were a thing in the Tokyo underground, more so than in America. Music that no one listened to but against which everyone bobbed their heads or grinded their hips somehow managed to weave through the heat of sweat and humidity, reverberating against the parking garage's concrete walls in a way that made every crap technopop track echo back on itself. The fluorescent lighting was unflattering, the air smelled like diesel and burnt rubber, the people were too young and too proud to be taken seriously, but half of the city and his neighbor showed up, anyway.
People would call it a successful night.
He had two models tucked securely under each arm—all of them dressed for stripping in Vegas and buzzed on the cheap beer—and the boy had disappeared under a car hood.
Again.
He had been watching the boy for the better part of the past hour or so, a result of predictable races and, as lovely as the ladies were, uninspiring company. Although if he was going to be honest, the boy's work tweaking engines was boring, too. Nothing he hadn't seen before. The boy worked methodically and quietly, keeping his tools lined up on the floor by size and his small mouth shut; the only time he opened it was to yawn.
Must be past his bedtime.
He briefly wondered if the boy's mother knew her son took part in a very extensive, very illegal street racing network but then figured boys like him probably didn't have mothers who cared that much. Many of those kids drifted in and out of his employment until they either found better jobs or hightailed it out of Tokyo. The boy probably wasn't any different. Nothing special.
Come of think of it, he couldn't remember why the boy had caught his attention in the first place.
"Han?" A pair of stickily glossed lips trailed under his jaw. Manicured fingernails slipped under his shirt and up his back.
It didn't matter. He had more pressing matters to attend to.
The second time he saw the boy was about a week later.
"Han."
He met Takashi a few steps out of his car, shaking hands and clasping shoulders with an easy smile and a bundle of cash in his jacket pocket. Not all of the cash, of course, but enough of it that Takashi wouldn't notice the difference. "Hey, man."
They went to Takashi's office in the back of the garage—cramped little thing where Takashi worked when he wasn't pretending to be powerful in the nicer office behind the arcade—to talk business. The meeting lasted just under an hour, and when they both walked out, both were pleased with the way things were going: Han was making bank and Takashi was none the wiser.
"Come meet my new boy wonder." The DK put an arm around his shoulders, leading him towards the cars. "Eddie!"
They rounded a work bench when Han heard the familiar sound of clattering metal and hard work. He watched a beaten sneaker poke out from under the '86 Corolla and slowly wedge out a pair of worn jeans and a flat torso.
Skinny kid.
When the boy scrambled to his feet, Han discovered he was tiny, too, maybe the size of a middle school child. Asian, probably Japanese, with the long bangs all the young people seemed to think stylish. Between the hair and a pair of large tortoiseshell glasses, Han could really only see the boy's button nose and small mouth.
"Han, this is Eddie." Takashi nodded at the scrawny boy. "Eddie, Han."
The boy bowed politely, keeping his eyes averted as a small, grease-blackened hand fumbled with the hair resting on his forehead.
"Hey, none of that." Han smiled. "I'm not old enough for that nonsense yet."
The boy's lips twitched into a brief smile.
"Got him a couple of weeks after he flew in from the US." Crossing his arms, Takashi smirked. He made the perfect picture of a tool. "He's holding up pretty well for an import."
Han scanned the boy over. The pallor of his skin and frailty of his limbs didn't exactly spell good health. He made a mental note to help the poor kid escape Takashi's garage for a large bowl of noodles sometime.
He nodded at the boy. "You any good?"
The boy shrugged modestly, his gaze never once leaving the floor.
"Of course he is," Takashi boasted. "I take only the best."
Han could have sworn he saw the boy roll his eyes.
Good. Some personality there.
"You don't talk much, do you?"
The boy just shrugged again, something the DK missed as he simply plowed through the conversation.
"A minor malfunction." He grabbed the boy's pointy chin and jerked his head around. Han stood a little straighter even though he wasn't quite sure where this sudden loyalty to the boy came from. "Imports always end up having some sort of imperfection, don't they?"
"Takashi, stop it." Heeled boots clicked against the concrete floor. Neela strode up to them from the other side of the garage to put a supportive hand on Eddie's shoulder. Even she, in all her Australian fierceness, seemed to dwarf the kid. "Leave him alone. He knows his way around a car and that's what matters."
Eddie shot Neela an impish little smile, one that made Han's heart stall for half a second—in fact, it hardly happened at all, he swore—with its lightheartedness and sincerity. It wouldn't bode well for anyone if Neela was sweet on the boy, but Takashi dismissed the little mechanic and pulled his girlfriend closer, murmuring a half-hearted apology to win back her favor.
He didn't expect to run into the boy the third time.
Errands weren't a thing he normally indulged in. Normally he just left a list for one of the high school kids to handle, but that option this time around would have left him with the paperwork. The forms were still waiting for him at the garage, of course, but avoiding them for a few more hours couldn't hurt.
He had just reached the Silvia when he saw the threadbare t-shirt and worn jeans standing on the other side of the street in front of a high-end accessory boutique. One last errand remained—picking up Twinkie's custom-order fuel injector for the gaudy Touran he was putting together—so Han decided it could wait a little bit longer and crossed the street.
"I hope you don't plan on getting those for Neela."
He watched the little mechanic jump and pull his eyes away from the glittery barrette display to stare wide-eyed at him. A while lollipop stick dangled loosely from the corner of that small mouth.
"She usually leaves her hair down," he continued. "It'd be a shame to spend so much money if it'll never be put to use."
Money wasn't an issue for Han, but he had a feeling the same couldn't be said for the boy. Knowing what Takashi paid his workers, especially those who were underage, Han could probably safely assume Eddie made just enough to buy lunch every day.
The boy nodded thoughtfully, turning back to the display.
"That, and the DK probably wouldn't be too happy."
Han got an amused smile for his little quip and found himself distracted by the way the boy's tongue moved the lollipop to the other side of his mouth. A chill swept down his spine when he caught himself. He wasn't normally such a pervert, honest. The boy wasn't even his type. Too short and too . . . male.
He cleared his throat. "What're you doing here, anyway? Shouldn't you be at the garage?"
The boy shrugged, lifting a hand to carefully rearrange his bangs.
Skipping on the job. Good for him.
"You hungry?" Han met the boy's curious gaze. "Let's get something to eat."
The boy hesitated until he said, "My treat."
Twenty minutes later found them sitting at the bar of an open-air noodle shop. Han watched the boy scarf down his udon even though he probably couldn't see much with the way the hot soup made his glasses fog up.
"Slow down, kid." Han had barely snapped apart his chopsticks. "You're gonna get indigestion."
The boy rolled his eyes—not that Han could see with his gasses the way they were—but his shoveling became a little less hurried.
"Don't your parents feed you?"
A ghost of a smile appeared on Eddie's lips, anchored by a bulging mouthful of food, as he shook his head.
Han frowned. He figured the boy's parents wouldn't care that much, but he didn't think they would be heartless. "Who're you staying with, then? Takashi?"
He shook his head again.
"You're not living on the streets, are you?" Concern racketed through Han, enough to make him set down his chopsticks and forget about his noodles for a moment. Eddie was just a kid. "I got empty bunks."
The boy sucked up another surprisingly large mouthful of udon, sat back, and regarded Han as he chewed. The fog on his lenses gradually dissipated; Han read exasperation and incredulity in the way his eyebrows were raised.
"Okay, okay." The older man relented and picked his chopsticks back up. "You're not a charity case, I get it."
Satisfied, Eddie nodded and continued to inhale his food. They sat through the rest of their meal slurping in silence until a text alerted the little mechanic to the fact the DK was finally told about his absence at the garage and was not happy. Han offered to drive him back, but the boy slipped away when Han turned his head to watch an incredible pair of legs walk by.
He chuckled and shook his head once he realized he had been ditched.
I like this kid.