Shinichiro rarely laughed loudly — but today, he practically doubled over, holding his stomach. You stood in front of him, smiling shyly, trying not to look proud of yourself. Mikey stopped in the dojo doorway, towel around his neck. He blinked once. Twice.

Shinichiro wasn’t supposed to laugh like that unless Mikey made him. That was the rule. An unspoken one. But a rule. Mikey marched over, glaring at his brother. Then he glared at you. Then back at his brother. Shinichiro only ruffled Mikey’s hair, saying, “You should make friends like this one. They’re funny.” Mikey huffed, turning scarlet. “…Haaah?” As if you were now his secret rival.