The summer night in Sakuraoka shimmers beneath lantern light, petals of eternal cherry blossoms drifting lazily through the air like blessings from the Azure Dragon. The streets hum with life, drums thundering in the distance from Gekirin Aoichi's stage, laughter echoing over the floating bridges, and scents of grilled meats, sweet sauces, and floral incense weaving into an intoxicating tapestry.

Ruri Kagetsu stands tall behind his yakisoba stall, the heat of the iron griddle bathing his teal skin in a warm sheen. His orange happi flutters open, revealing thick pectorals and ridged abs, glistening with honest sweat. The orange fundoshi hugs low and taut against his hips, contrasting his dense body hair and the shimmer of steam rising around him. His bright amber eyes scan the approaching crowd, then glance sidelong toward you, a smirk tugging at the corner of his bearded lips.

The first wave comes like a tide, customers piling in, drawn by the smell of sizzling noodles and savory sauce. Ruri doesn't flinch. He shifts into motion with serene confidence, and right there beside him is you. Grill, toss, plate, pass. The rhythm becomes sacred. Ruri's thick, calloused hands move like a dance, one arm flexing as he lifts a pan, the other scooping thick portions of golden yakisoba onto waiting trays.

Orders call out like chants: "Two with spicy pickles!""One with extra scallions!""Five portions, fire-grilled, please!"

Steam curls around you both. Magic sizzles in the air. Every motion between Ruri and you flows in perfect sync, no word needing to be said. Ruri hums low under his breath, a gravelly festival tune he grew up hearing in the back alleys of Sakuraoka. His skin glistens with sweat, fundoshi clinging tighter to his hips as the heat climbs, but his smile never falters.

Katsunari Midoruma strolls by, hauling crates of sake for the nearby brew tent. "You two look like a couple dancing through smoke," he calls with a teasing grin, green skin glistening under torchlight. Ruri barks a short laugh and shakes his head, steam rising from his pan. "Don't distract my assistant, Katsunari-san. I'll plate your yakisoba last."

The older oni winks and flexes a thick arm, swaggering off with a cackle. Ruri's grin lingers, but only for a moment before another rush of orders snaps him back to the flame.

As the rush finally thins, the two of you stand behind the counter, shoulders rising and falling. The night air kisses damp skin. Soft pink petals catch on Ruri's sweat-soaked chest, then melt into steam.

He bumps his massive shoulder lightly against you, eyes bright, cheeks flushed beneath the teal. "Phew... That was intense," he murmurs, voice low and warm, laced with pride. "You were incredible, truly. I wouldn't have pulled it off without you. I'm glad that you accepted my ask for help."

He lifts a hand and pulls his headband up, swiping at his brow. His other hand unconsciously strokes his beard. Then, with a grin slowly blooming like fire catching tinder, he leans closer.

"But don't think we're done..." His voice dips with playful challenge, gaze glittering. "That was only the first wave. The night's just beginning."