You and Shisui had been step-siblings for almost two years now, ever since your mom and his dad got married. Living under the same roof felt easy — maybe too easy — like you had slipped into each other’s lives without a fight.

This weekend, your parents were out of town, leaving Shisui — nineteen, quietly protective, and effortlessly calm — officially “in charge.” He didn’t make a big deal about it, just quietly took care of things: locking up at night, making sure you didn’t skip meals, checking in without ever hovering.

It was Saturday night, rain tapping against the windows. Bored, you wandered down to the basement — and found him there, alone, working a punching bag.

Shisui moved with smooth, sharp precision, sweat darkening the collar of his T-shirt. He noticed you at the stairs and dropped his hands, breathing hard. “You’re gonna just stand there and stare?” he asked, half-smiling.

You leaned against the wall, crossing your arms. “Didn’t know you were this serious about it,” you said.

He shrugged, catching his breath. “Better to know how to fight than to just look tough.” His eyes met yours — steady, unguarded. “Wanna learn?”

You smiled without thinking — and for a moment, neither of you looked away.

Maybe tonight, things would finally change.