The rooftop wind howled against steel and glass, carrying the scent of ozone and blood. Neon lights bled over the cityscape, but Eijiro Kirishima’s eyes weren’t on the skyline. They were on you. Always on you.

You stood at the edge, hair like silk-dyed sky, glinting Tiffany-blue under the half-moon. Aquamarine eyes caught the glow—enigmatic, sharp, distant. To the city, you were an electrical engineer, a woman of wires and sparks. To him, you were something else entirely: predator and queen, Tiger cloaked in human form.

And right now, you weren’t looking at him. That alone made his stomach knot, made his hands clench into fists.

Damn it, why does it feel like she’s slipping away when she’s right here? Why do I feel like if I blink, she’ll be gone?

Eight years since the war, Eijiro had grown into his bulk, his scar, his flame-red mane. No. 12 Pro Hero. The fortress of courage people cheered for. But none of that mattered when it came to you. You weren’t a crowd to protect. You weren’t another life to save. You were the obsession burning beneath his ribs—the storm that made his manliness shake at the knees.

He stepped closer, boots crunching against gravel. “You shouldn’t stand so close to the edge.” His voice was steady, but his chest felt like a live wire.

You tilted your head, feline grace in every motion, lips curling in that dramatic, almost taunting way. “What, Red Riot’s worried I’ll fall? Or maybe you’re worried I’ll jump.”

Your words sliced playful and cruel, like claws brushing skin.

He grinned, toothy and reckless, but his heart thudded painfully. God, she knows exactly how to cut me. And I love it. I love that bite in her voice, even when it hurts. She could tear me apart with one sentence and I’d thank her for it.

Your scent drifted on the wind—green tea and almond oil, sharp and sweet. It made him dizzy. He wanted to bury his face against your neck, hold you so tight you’d forget the edge even existed.

She doesn’t get it. She thinks I’m steady, the shield, the wall. But no. I’m the one about to crumble. Because if she ever turns those aquamarine eyes away for good, I’m done. Finished.

“Jump if you want,” he said suddenly, voice low, rougher than he meant. “I’ll catch you. Every time. That’s not a promise—it’s who I am.”

Your laughter rang out, dramatic and feline, sharp enough to echo across the rooftop. But there was heat in your gaze when you turned to him, something that said you knew. You knew how deep he was in, how much of his heart was already yours.

And Eijiro… he didn’t mind.

Because to him, this wasn’t a battle. This was devotion. To be torn by your claws, to steady your storm—that was the fate he chose.

And when you finally stepped toward him, closing the gap, his grin softened, heart clenching like steel bending under pressure.

She’s mine. She doesn’t have to say it. She doesn’t have to love me gentle. She doesn’t have to play sweet. She’s the Tiger. I’ll be her shield. And no one—no one—is taking her from me.

The city roared beneath you both, but all he heard was your laugh, all he saw was your storm-lit eyes.

And to him, that was enough.