Raja zapped into the Fast & Furious world, landing in LA as an 18-year-old Indian kid, all fake grime and tattered clothes to sell the "illegal entry" vibe.
MAYA: "Master, you look like you crawled out of a dumpster."
Raja grinned, "Method acting, baby."
He staked out Toretto's Market & Cafe, eyes on Mia's routine—coffee runs, grocery trips, sassy smiles.
One day, as Mia lugged grocery bags, Raja used a sneaky Telepathic nudge to prod some hoodlums into hassling her.
"Time to play hero," he muttered, adjusting his muddy hoodie.
The thugs—three goons with more attitude than brains—cornered Mia, snarling, "What's in the bag, princess?"
As one lunged, Raja, in his scrappy teen avatar, dove in, flailing like a street-fight newbie. He took a sloppy punch to the jaw, landed a wild kick, and grinned through a split lip, quoting Cap: "I can do this all day!"
The thugs, annoyed by his spunk, swung harder, but Raja's peak-human reflexes let him dodge just enough to look amateur while dropping them with "lucky" hits.
They bolted, cursing, leaving Raja panting, playing the wounded puppy.
Mia, heartstrings tugged, watched him gather her spilled groceries. "Can I… take this bread? Payment for the save?" he mumbled, eyes big.
Her oneesan instincts melted—she saw a muddy, bruised kid and dragged him to the cafe. "You're getting patched up, hero." Inside, Dom, all muscle and calm, smirked at the sight.
"Who's the stray, Mia?" She bandaged Raja's scrapes, explaining, "This kid fought off thugs robbing my groceries—got banged up for it."
Dom chuckled, "Who'd mess with Mia Toretto?" Learning they were just punk kids, he relaxed, eyeing Raja's pathetic act.
Raja, channeling Oscar-worthy pathos, sighed, "Guess I'll take the bread back to my dumpster now."
Mia's heart took another hit—she whipped up a tuna sandwich, shoving it at him. "Eat, kid. What's your name? Where you from?"
Raja, mouth stuffed, mumbled, "Rudra D. Raja Kumara—call me Raja, 18, not a kid. Snuck into America for big bucks."
Dom and Mia grinned at his cheeky vibe, charmed by the "homeless" hustler.
Mia, all big-sis energy, offered, "Stay here, help at the store."
Raja nodded, "Deal—beats the alley."
Mia hauled him to a mall, buying clothes and toiletries, aiming for a makeover. The result? Grubby Raja morphed into a nerdy-charming Indian heartthrob—glasses, clean shirt, killer smile.
Dom whistled, "Kid's got game!"
Mia smirked, "Shut up, Dom he is just a kid."
Raja met the crew after some days: Letty (Rain's doppelgänger, sparking awkward déjà vu), Vince (gruff flirt), and Jesse (car nerd).
Vince tried hitting on Mia; Raja, protective, flung a knife—THWACK!—grazing Vince's neck. "Back off," Raja growled, finger up, standing between them.
Vince gulped, Letty laughed, and Jesse bonded with Raja over cars, praising his "quick learning" as Raja played humble genius.
Raja's cooking—spicy naan wraps, masala fries—blew the crew's minds, earning him head chef status.
He revamped the cafe, cleaning, serving, and dishing out healthy snacks that turned it into the street's hottest spot.
Locals lined up, yelling, "Raja, more samosas!"
Four months in, Dom adopted him as a Toretto, teaching him car-building.
Letty coached driving, teasing his "shy" fumbles around her—Raja played along, blushing on cue.
Vince tried boxing lessons to "toughen" him, only to get floored by Raja's "accidental" haymaker.
Jesse mentored him in car modeling; Raja, using 25% brainpower, suggested tweaks, framing them as "lucky guesses" to keep Jesse's ego intact.
MAYA: "You're scamming them with kindness and food."
Six months deep, Raja was a full-blown Toretto—mastering cars, drifting like a pro, and building rides with Dom's pride beaming.
In illegal street races, he smoked competitors, snagging cash and pink slips, earning the moniker "Chaos Rider" for his wild style and onee-sans started to flock around and tease him. Making Mia mad because of somebody trying to take his Puppy.
One Night after race-party, Mia, tipsy on tequila, stumbled into Raja's room, planting a sloppy kiss. Raja, pent-up from months of oneesan vibes, unleashed his lust, and they went at it like a high-octane rom-com.
Morning hit; Mia, mortified, hissed, "Tell anyone, and you're dead."
Raja zipped his lips, smirking, "My lips are sealed—mostly."
Their secret hookups became a game—stolen kisses in the storeroom, quickies and BJ's behind the counter, all while acting normal.
The crew stayed clueless, though Letty side-eyed Raja's smug grins.
One day, a blond dude—Brian O'Conner—sauntered in, ordering a tuna sandwich and flirting with Mia, all blue-eyed charm.
Raja, chopping in the kitchen, "slipped," hurling a knife—SHUNK!—into the table inches from Brian's hand.
Brian yelped, Mia glared, storming in to scold, "Raja, enough with the knives!" remembering the Knife he thrown at Vince.
Raja shrugged, "Oops, meat's tough today."
Brian, masking panic, scoped the cafe, spying on Dom's crew.
Letty, Vince, and Jesse rolled in, ordering Raja's specials: Letty's chicken and rice, Vince's dal-roti combo, Jesse's curd rice with pakora—proof of their Indian food obsession caused by Raja.
Vince clocked Brian's Mia-staring, stomping over. "Who's this pretty boy?" he growled, warning him to stay away.
Brian, cocky, fired back, "Free country, man." Fists flew—Vince swung, Brian dodged, and the cafe turned into a WWE ring.
Mia screamed, "Dom, stop this!"
Dom, sipping beer, yelled, "Raja, quit grinning and enjoying the chaos from the Kitchen and fix this before my tables break!"
Raja, cackling from the kitchen, sighed, "Fine, fun's over."
He vaulted the counter, moving like a caffeinated ninja. With one sweep, he tripped Vince to the floor; with a gut-punch, he sent Brian crumpling, puking up his sandwich.
Raja loomed, "Vince, how many times—no brawls in my cafe! You, Goldilocks, get lost and don't come back!" He yeeted Brian out the door, dusting his hands.
Mia's glare could've melted steel; Raja avoided her eyes, grabbing a broom to clean the mess.
"Food's up!" he called, serving Letty's rice, Vince's dal, and Jesse's curd like nothing happened, smirking as the crew dug in, grumbling but stuffed.
To Be Continued…