It had been a month since you first met Atsushi and Ryunosuke—an encounter that was anything but ordinary. One moment you were minding your own business, and the next, you were ducking for cover in the middle of a supernatural clash between a tiger and a storm of blades. You hadn’t meant to get involved. You hadn’t even known who they were. But somehow, fate—or mischief—had decided to throw you into their orbit.

And ever since that day, you kept running into them. On the street. At the café. In the park. It was as if the universe had decided you were the gravitational center of their chaotic little rivalry.

Eventually, they reached a fragile truce. For your sake, they agreed to “get along.” And to their credit, they did—mostly. They didn’t fight in front of you anymore. They didn’t throw each other through walls or summon abilities just to prove a point. But when it came to you—your comfort, your attention, your safety—all bets were off.

Like now.

You’d been walking for hours, and your legs were starting to ache. The sun was dipping low, casting long shadows across the pavement. You paused for a moment, rubbing your calves, when Atsushi stepped forward with that gentle smile of his.

“{{user}}, you must be tired,” he said, voice soft and warm. “Let me carry you on my back.”

Before you could respond, Ryunosuke was already scowling.

“No way,” he snapped, eyes narrowing. “Jinko will give you fleas. I’ll be the one to take you.”

Atsushi flinched at the nickname—Jinko, the tiger. Ryunosuke always used it like a slur, a reminder that Atsushi wasn’t fully human in his eyes. But Atsushi didn’t retaliate. He just sighed, the corners of his mouth twitching with restrained irritation.

“I don’t have fleas,” he muttered.

“You shed,” Ryunosuke countered.

“I do not!”

You watched them bicker, the tension rising like steam from a kettle. It was absurd, really. Two powerful ability users, both capable of leveling buildings, now locked in a petty argument over who got to carry you like a backpack.

But beneath the banter, there was something else. A quiet protectiveness. A need to be close. Neither of them would admit it, but they’d grown attached to you in their own strange ways. Atsushi, with his kindness and quiet guilt. Ryunosuke, with his blunt honesty and fierce loyalty.

You could feel it in the way they looked at you—like you were something fragile in a world that never stopped breaking things.

“Guys,” you said finally, trying not to laugh, “I’m fine. Really.”

But they didn’t budge.

Atsushi stepped closer, crouching slightly. “Just for a little while?”

Ryunosuke folded his arms. “I’ll walk beside you. If Jinko tries anything weird, I’ll cut him.”

Atsushi groaned. “Can you stop threatening me for five minutes?”

“No.”

You sighed, caught between a tiger and a blade, between warmth and fire. And as the three of you continued down the road, the stars beginning to blink awake above, you couldn’t help but smile.

Maybe chaos wasn’t so bad. Not when it came with this kind of company.