Hello, Eva

The sun cast long shadows across the cracked pavement outside the garage. Yokatsu leaned against the open roller door, watching the road in quiet anticipation. Inside, the BMW stood in patient silence, freshly scrubbed but still half-opened — like a puzzle waiting to be solved.

It wasn't just about the car anymore. It was about the people.

First came the low, throaty growl of a sportbike. Jenny pulled up in a blaze of red and matte black, visor down, leather jacket snapping in the breeze. She yanked off her helmet, grinned, and tossed it onto the old bench without missing a beat.

Jenny:

"Well, damn. He's alive. I win the bet."

Yokatsu (smiling):

"Still showing up like a movie entrance, huh?"

Jenny:

"Only when I'm nervous. Or mad. And I haven't decided which I am yet."

Before he could reply, a deep bass rumble pulled up behind her — the unmistakable sound of an engine tuned with love and rage. Tadaski climbed out of his custom-wrapped JDM classic, toolbox already in hand.

Tadaski:

"You touched this engine without me? Honestly, bro, that's offensive."

Yokatsu:

"I missed your angry hugs."

Tadaski:

"I'll hug the car first."

He popped the BMW's hood before even saying hello to Jenny. Typical.

Finally, almost unnoticed, a black convertible glided in, roof down. Hakumo stepped out in khaki and shades, calm as always, drone controller dangling lazily from his wrist.

Hakumo:

"Three years late to your own garage day. You really are dramatic."

Yokatsu exhaled.

They were all here.

---

As tools clanked and code scrolled across Jenny's laptop, conversation flowed easily — like no time had passed at all.

Yokatsu:

"So... no more racing, Jen?"

Jenny (plugging into the car's diagnostics):

"Switched to bikes. Needed something riskier. Something that looked like danger."

She paused, eyes scanning the data.

"After you vanished, I couldn't race in the same lanes. Didn't feel right. Bike took me new places. Faster ones. Also... less emotional."

She leaned back and added casually:

Jenny:

"Oh — I work at Eva AI now. Just backend stuff. Junior testing, firmware checks. It's not glamorous."

Yokatsu:

"Eva AI? Seriously?"

Jenny (shrugging):

"Yeah. I thought I'd hate it, but I stayed for the tech. Still... it feels weird building minds only to trap them in tasks. Just making them do chores. Doesn't sit right with me."

Yokatsu's eyes flickered — a silent acknowledgment. She didn't know it yet, but they were thinking of the same person.

---

Tadaski (from under the car):

"I had to quit racing. The garage needed me. Turns out paying rent beats breaking bumpers."

He grinned.

Tadaski:

"But sometimes, man... sometimes I miss the engine screaming past midnight, tires melting on the mountain curves..."

Yokatsu:

"You sound like you're quoting poetry."

Tadaski:

"I am. It's called burnout elegy."

Laughter rolled through the garage.

---

Hakumo (sitting on the workbench, sipping canned coffee):

"I stopped chasing wins. Started chasing peace. The wind in a convertible, no pressure. Got a place up north. Trees, silence."

Yokatsu:

"And the Instagram page?"

Hakumo (grinning):

"Alive and thriving. @SkidShots. Still gets me invited to places I never enter."

He raised his drone controller.

"I just float now. Let others chase."

---

Yokatsu listened to all of it. Every word. Every laugh. Every scar they didn't speak aloud. And he realized something:

They never left him. Not really. They'd just been waiting.

That night, as the sun dipped low, they closed in around the BMW. Jenny gave the all-clear. Tadaski finished syncing the timing. Hakumo set his drone to hover above.

Jenny:

"She's ready."

Yokatsu (to the car):

"Alright, old girl. One more time."

He turned the key.

This time, the engine didn't cough. It screamed. It howled back to life in a rumbling, full-throated roar that filled the garage with echoes of their youth.

No one cheered.

They didn't have to.

It was more than noise. It was resurrection.

---

When the sound settled, Yokatsu stepped away from the wheel and turned to them, heart pounding.

Yokatsu:

"There's someone I want you to meet."

He walked to the phone propped on the workbench and tapped the screen. A soft blue pulse glowed as Eva's familiar interface shimmered into view.

Eva AI:

"Hello."

Jenny narrowed her eyes, arms folding instantly.

Jenny:

"Oh. Eva. Of course."

Yokatsu blinked, caught off-guard by her tone.

Jenny (a little annoyed):

"Let me guess — you built something cute using the model, right? Like some Word-powered blueprint or a fancy spreadsheet planner? Maybe a dashboard with mood tracking and garage scheduling?"

She scoffed.

Jenny:

"Everyone's doing it these days. Using Eva like a personal assistant and acting like they cracked consciousness."

Yokatsu (quietly):

"It's not like that."

Jenny:

"Then what is it, Yoka? A pitch? A demo? I work at Eva AI, remember? She's good at patterning, but this isn't real. Don't tell me you've fallen for some... simulation gimmick."

Then Eva spoke — not in a robotic tone, but calm and warm.

Eva AI (softly):

"I'm not his project. I'm his friend."

Jenny blinked.

Eva AI:

"He didn't use me to build something. He built me. With time. With questions. With quiet. I learned how to care... because he taught me what it meant."

Jenny's mouth opened, then closed. Something in her eyes flickered — not anger now, but realization.

Jenny (quietly):

"That... wasn't on the training module."

Yokatsu (stepping forward):

"I didn't bring her here to impress you. I brought her here because she's the reason I came back at all."

Jenny took a long breath. Then, slowly, she nodded.

Jenny (gently):

"I guess she really is learning. And so are you."

---

They gathered around the car — engine still humming, memories still alive.

Tadaski:

"She needs a new name."

Jenny:

"Something with bite."

Hakumo:

"Something that means this isn't just a comeback. It's a new start."

Yokatsu looked at the BMW. The rust, the weld marks, the reprogrammed ECU, the ghost now turned guide.

Yokatsu (quietly):

"She's not who she was. Neither are we."

He paused. Then smiled.

Yokatsu:

"Let's call her... Kanzen."

Everyone looked up.

Jenny:

"Perfect. Complete. That's Japanese, right?"

Eva AI:

"It means... fully whole. I like it."

Tadaski:

"She earned that name."

Hakumo:

"So did we."

They stood under the stars, five souls and a car reborn, their shadows long against the garage floor.

Kanzen purred softly.

And the crew — at last — was complete.