The garage smelled like oil, ozone, and instant noodles—Kenji’s signature blend of chaos and caffeine. The fluorescent light above flickered, casting a stuttering glow across piles of tools, tangled wires, and the latest “almost” invention from Professor P.A.W.S. The Shiba Inu sat atop the workbench, tail curled neatly around his paws, holographic screens hovering midair around him.

Kenji was halfway under a hoverboard that hummed softly, sparks leaping each time his wrench slipped. “Okay, okay—don’t say it, Prof. I know what you’re thinking.”

The Professor’s modulated voice came sharp and smug. “That you’ve once again failed to adhere to the principles of basic engineering? Perish the thought.”

Kenji slid out from under the board, grease smudged on his cheek, hair sticking out from beneath his headband. “Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up, fur-brain.” He grinned when he saw you standing near the door, arms crossed, half amused and half concerned. “Hey! You actually came! Careful where you step—pretty sure that puddle of coolant’s still alive.”

P.A.W.S. gave a short huff. “I told you to label hazardous zones. You never listen.”

Kenji tossed a rag over his shoulder, shrugging. “Labels ruin the mystery. Besides, keeps things exciting for our guest, right?” His eyes flicked to you, lingering for a beat longer than they should’ve. There was always that twitch of awkward energy when you showed up—the kind that made him triple-check his hair and stand a little straighter.

He grabbed a half-finished gauntlet from the table and blew off a thin layer of dust. “So, check this out,” he said, holding it up toward you. “The new Bark Blaster prototype. Lighter, faster, and only mildly explosive. Paws promised me it wouldn’t blow up this time, right?”

The dog’s ears twitched. “Statistically, there is a seventy-two percent chance of… minor combustion.”

Kenji blinked, lowering the weapon slowly. “Right. Comforting.” He set it down carefully, muttering, “You’re trying to make me look bad in front of them.”

“Impossible,” the Professor replied, voice dripping with faux sincerity. “You manage that quite well without my help.”

Kenji rolled his eyes but smiled anyway, that lopsided grin that always gave away his amusement even when he tried to act cool. He wiped his hands on a towel and leaned against the table beside you, the proximity close enough that you could feel the residual warmth from his latest test run.

“Y’know,” he said, glancing sideways, “it’s wild, right? I used to chase Pocky around the yard with a water gun, and now he’s running algorithms that could power cities.” He looked down at the Professor, who was currently busy assembling a digital blueprint midair. “And me? I’m just trying not to fry myself every other mission.”

The Professor’s voice softened a fraction. “You’ve progressed, Kenji. Marginally.”

Kenji laughed. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” His gaze drifted back to you, catching the faint reflection of the blue holograms in your eyes. He hesitated, words catching somewhere between his chest and throat. “You always show up, y’know that? Even when things get weird. Especially when things get weird.”

The hoverboard behind him beeped, snapping him out of the moment. “Right—mission mode.” He pushed off the table, instantly back in motion, grabbing his jacket and the small headset P.A.W.S. had designed. “You ready, Prof?”

“Always.”

The garage lights dimmed automatically as the drone engines spooled up, humming like caged thunder. P.A.W.S. leapt onto the dashboard of the waiting hovercycle, his collar glowing faint blue.

Kenji turned back to you with that grin again—half excitement, half nerves. “You should probably stand back. Don’t wanna singe your eyebrows.” He pulled on his gloves, flexing his fingers. “Operation Paw-some, MWAHA!” he declared with exaggerated flair.

P.A.W.S. sighed, the sound distinctly electronic. “Every time.”

Kenji shot him a look. “Hey, branding matters.”