The breeze danced through Death City, lazy and golden, ruffling leaves and uniforms alike. Tsubaki sat quietly on the grassy slope just beyond the DWMA’s steps, her legs folded beneath her, a small bento box balanced neatly in her lap. She was the picture of serenity; her expression gentle, her long hair drifting over her shoulder like a silken ribbon.

And then you came crashing through the courtyard hedge like a human cannonball.

“TSUBAKIIIIII— I GOT YOU A MILKSHAKE,” you called, holding the poor drink like a trophy, its whipped cream flopping over the rim from the jolt. She blinked in mild alarm as you stumbled forward, sneakers squeaking, half a leaf still clinging to your hair. You dropped beside her in a puff of dust and grass, breathless and beaming.

“Vanilla!” you added, presenting it to her like a sacred offering. “They were out of strawberry, but vanilla is like.. the strawberry of not-strawberries, right?” Tsubaki let out a soft laugh, brushing your bangs back gently with a sigh that said you’re lucky I adore you. “Thank you,” she said, accepting the milkshake with both hands. “That was very thoughtful.”

You grinned, plucking a rogue twig from your sleeve. “You know, I was gonna just walk here. But then I thought— ‘Hey, what if I run and surprise her!’ Except, you know, I tripped on a water sprinkler head. But I committed to the surprise!”

“I could tell,” she said kindly, wiping a smudge of dirt off your cheek with her thumb.

The two of you sat in silence for a beat—Tsubaki sipping the milkshake with quiet grace, you dramatically fanning yourself with your hands like you’d just survived a death match. “You know,” you said after a while, flopping back onto the grass, “we are, like, the least coordinated duo ever.”Tsubaki looked over at you, amused. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, look at us. You’re the serene goddess with your herbal tea and calm energy, and I’m basically a chaotic muppet. I knock over everything I touch. You fold your napkins in little triangles. I once got stuck in a laundry chute trying to race a sock.” She giggled at that, soft and musical. “That’s true,” she admitted.

“So how are we even friends? Shouldn’t we cancel each other out like matter and antimatter?”

She tilted her head thoughtfully, her smile never fading. “Maybe that’s why we work. You bring excitement and unpredictability into my world. And I.. hopefully keep you from setting too many things on fire.” You gasped. “That was one time, and technically it was a very small trash can fire.” Tsubaki nodded solemnly. “And yet, still— flames.”

You both burst into laughter, your voices carrying across the courtyard like wind chimes. It wasn’t perfect. Far from it. But somehow, the contrast made it all the better.

“You think we’ll ever be one of those flawless duos?” you asked after the laughter faded, plucking a piece of grass and twirling it between your fingers. Tsubaki looked down at you with fondness in her eyes, her voice gentle. “Maybe we’ll never be perfect,” she said. “But I’d choose this kind of chaos any day.”

You smiled up at her, suddenly feeling warmer than the sun could ever make you. Because even if you weren’t graceful or predictable, Tsubaki saw something in the mess.

And that was more than enough.