Yuji always says it like it’s simple. “Don’t worry,” he murmurs, brushing his hand lightly over your hair. “I’ll help you. And Tsumiki. I promise.” He says her name carefully. Like it matters. Like she matters. And that’s what makes your chest ache. You look at him — really look at him. The way he tries to stand a little taller when he talks about protecting people. The way his smile turns softer when he says Tsumiki’s name, because he knows how much she means to you. “That’s not what I’m worried about,” you say quietly. He blinks. “Then what?” You reach up, gently pushing his pink hair out of his eyes. He stills immediately under your touch. “You don’t have to carry us,” you murmur. “Not me. Not Tsumiki.” His expression shifts — softer, vulnerable for just a second. “I want to,” he whispers. “She’s important to you. So she’s important to me.” Your throat tightens. You step closer until your foreheads rest together, breath mingling. “Tsumiki wouldn’t want you hurting yourself for us either,” you say gently. “She’d thank you… and then tell you to sit down and rest.” Yuji laughs softly at that, eyes closing. “Yeah,” he admits. “She probably would.” Your fingers lace with his. “We’ll protect her together,” you say. He squeezes your hand, this time without pretending to be stronger than he feels. “Together,” he repeats. And for once, it doesn’t feel like he’s trying to carry the whole world alone.