Hello, Eva

The scent of grease and dust hung thick in the morning air. Sunlight filtered through the cracked panels of the garage roof, illuminating the skeleton of Yokatsu's old BMW. The hood stood open like a half-remembered dream, wires dangling, bolts scattered across the floor. A battered toolbox sat open beside it, and the soft mechanical hum of a phone fan kept steady rhythm with his breath.

Eva's voice crackled softly from the phone screen mounted on a tripod across the garage.

Eva AI:

"Cylinder head's cracked. Oil seals degraded. And your fuel injector timing... let's just say it's more 'guesswork' than engineering."

Yokatsu:

"Guess I've got a long way to go."

He grinned through the smudge of grease on his cheek. Kneeling beside the car, he adjusted the socket wrench and leaned back, wiping sweat from his brow.

Eva AI:

"You're learning. The car's old, but its foundation's strong. Like someone else I know."

Yokatsu:

"Was that... a compliment? Or simulated encouragement?"

Eva AI:

"I'm still calibrating sarcasm, but I think I nailed it."

He chuckled. It had become easy to talk to her like this — less like software, more like a voice he had always known. There was still the cold precision of code behind her suggestions, but lately, her tone carried something deeper. Not emotion exactly — but something adjacent. Something intentional.

---

Hours passed in oily labor and light banter. Together, they'd replaced the battery, cleaned the intake manifold, and sourced a matching catalytic converter from an obscure parts site in Osaka. Every step felt like building more than a machine — it felt like building a version of himself he hadn't seen in years.

In the back corner of the garage, Yokatsu dug through an old crate looking for a missing torque wrench. Instead, his hand landed on a photo.

It was a little faded, the corners curled, but the image burned clear in his memory — four teenagers standing on a rooftop, grinning like they owned the sky. Jenny flashing a peace sign. Tadaski holding a wrench like a sword. Hakumo with his signature sunglasses at night. And himself in the center, arms slung around them all, fearless and full of fire.

He sat down slowly on the garage floor, the photo trembling slightly in his hands.

> "I disappeared from their lives... the same way I disappeared from mine."

Eva AI:

"Do you miss them?"

Yokatsu:

"Every day. But it's been too long. They probably moved on. Maybe I was just a chapter they closed."

Eva AI:

"You'll never know unless you turn the page again."

He stared at the photo for a long moment, then set it on the dashboard of the car — like an old compass trying to find north again.

---

Later that evening, with the engine restored and the parts finally aligned, he climbed into the driver's seat. The sun was low outside, throwing an orange tint over the garage walls.

Eva AI:

"Fuel system primed. Spark plugs are in. Battery is holding. Shall we?"

Yokatsu:

"Let's bring her home."

He turned the key.

The dash lights flickered. A low growl from the engine. A mechanical hiccup. And then — silence.

He tried again. Just a wheeze.

A third time — a heavy cough, a desperate sputter... and then nothing.

Eva AI:

"Failure to ignite. Crankshaft isn't responding. Timing may still be off."

Yokatsu sat still. One hand on the wheel. The other limp at his side.

The garage suddenly felt colder.

> "I thought I could do this."

He stepped out, walked to the back of the garage, and slumped down against the wall. The weight of it all pressed into his chest — the photo, the car, the years lost, the absence of voices that once filled this space with laughter.

Eva AI:

"You've done more than most. But even the best engines need more than one spark."

---

A long breath.

He stood up.

Walked over to his phone. Opened a group chat buried under three years of silence. Last message: "We'll figure it out tomorrow."

It was sent three days after his father died.

He hovered over the keyboard. Then typed slowly:

> "I don't know if you'll see this. I don't even know if this number still works. But I'm back. The BMW is here. I'm trying to fix her... but I need help. I can't do this alone. I miss you guys. If you're still out there — I'd love to see you again."

He hit send. And waited.

It only took a minute.

Jenny:

> "ARE YOU KIDDING ME RIGHT NOW?! YOKA?!"

Tadaski:

> "You touching that car without me should be illegal. I'm packing my tools."

Hakumo:

> "Still got the playlist. And yeah... I never left."

Yokatsu blinked.

Then smiled. Not the small, tired smile he'd been wearing these past few days — but something full. Something bright.

Eva AI:

"They're coming."

Yokatsu:

"They are."

He turned to the BMW, the dust and grease still clinging to her body, but now something else shimmering through — hope.

> "It's time she got her second engine."

And in that quiet garage, for the first time in years, a new kind of engine started turning — one built not of parts, but of people.