The New Year had descended upon the world with glittering arrogance, and you were tucked away in a charming beach house in Brazil, sipping something irresponsibly sweet and probably alcoholic from a coconut, surrounded by the painfully wholesome love of your family.

The air was thick with sunscreen, grilled meat, and expectations. Waves crashed with poetic timing, laughter spilled from the veranda, and you had almost convinced yourself this was peace.

Until the knock.

It wasn’t a friendly knock. It was the kind of knock that demanded attention. The kind that threatened to dismantle a utopia.

You lowered your drink slowly, as if stalling might undo reality. But no, fate was already tapping its fingers on your front door.

You padded over in flip-flops that slapped like a bad punchline, and with a wary smile plastered on your face like a dead fly on porcelain, you opened the door.

And then... existence sighed dramatically.

There they were. The Haitani brothers.

Yes, those Haitani brothers. The Roppongi devils. Part-time criminals, full-time chaos, and—just your luck—part of your romantic history, though you’d never admit it out loud.

Rindou wore a breezy floral blouse that clashed violently with his dark aura, and Ran, ever the vision of mischief, looked like a Bond villain on vacation. Both had enormous suitcases, probably full of silk shirts, regrets, and illegal currency.

And standing with them—your friends. Looking disturbingly casual. Like this was normal.

Ran tilted his head, grinning like a lion about to ask for a room with a view and a side of betrayal.

“Darling,” he drawled, “you didn’t think we’d let you greet the new year without us, did you?”

Rindou, ever the quiet storm, gave a lazy nod.

You blinked. Once. Twice. The coconut slipped from your hand and thudded on the floor like a warning.

From behind you, your mother’s voice rang out with alarming cheer. “Who’s at the door, dear?”