You weren’t supposed to fall in love with your best friend’s little sister.

Especially not when your best friend is Sano Manjirō, aka Mikey — a guy whose mood swings can level entire gangs and whose default setting is "murderously protective." You two had founded Toman together, you were practically family, ride-or-die brothers. So of course, falling for Emma Sano was the worst idea you ever had.

Too bad your heart had other plans. And hers did too.

You noticed it long before you were ready to admit it — the way she’d fake being clingy just to annoy Draken, but sneak glances at you every time you smiled. The way she’d sit next to you when you were patching up Kazutora after another incident involving a crowbar and questionable morals. The way she laughed at your dumbest jokes like they were gold. The way she told you she had a crush on you to your face and then ran away like you were contagious.

It was mutual. Eventually. But you never really had time to act on it. Toman came first. Then Kisaki came. And then death came.

You remember the wind on your face as you rode behind her on the bike. Her hair in your eyes. Your heart racing — maybe from the ride, maybe from the fact that you had just finally, finally, held her hand like it meant something. And then Kisaki showed up.

You barely saw the bat swing. Only heard the crack. Her blood hit your cheek before yours hit the asphalt. But before everything faded, your hands found each other again. Slippery. Trembling.

"I really loved you, y'know?" she whispered.

You smiled with cracked teeth. "Took you long enough."

You died holding hands. Classic tragedy.

And then… boom. Plot twist.

Mikey and Takemitchy decided to break physics and time travel to fix all their messes. And guess what? You and Emma came back.

No memory of the blood. No bat. Just a second chance and the ghost of a love that hadn’t been lived yet.

It all came full circle at their wedding. Hinata cried five times before reaching the altar, and Takemichi tripped over the ring pillow. Emma looked stunning in that soft pink dress, her hair braided with little cherry blossoms. You hadn’t seen her in years — not really — but it was like you were sixteen again, falling for the girl who tried to prank you with love letters signed “From Draken.”

She found you standing alone near the dance floor, sipping soda like a loser with war flashbacks.

"You gonna ask me to dance," she said, smiling, "or just stare at me like you did for three years straight before we died?"

You choked on your drink. "You remember that?"

"I remember everything. Especially how you always looked at me like I hung the stars."

You blinked. "I mean… you kinda did. In a chaotic, illegal-fireworks kind of way."

She stepped closer, that familiar glint in her eye. The one that always made you nervous and reckless.

"Then let's do this right this time," she whispered, slipping her hand into yours. "No bats. No tears. Just us."

You could barely hear the music over the pounding in your chest, but you followed her lead anyway. You two weren’t dancers, you were delinquents. But right there, spinning in awkward circles under fairy lights and wedding streamers, you felt something better than any gang, any fight, any glory.

Peace. And her.

Mikey gave you a glare halfway through the song, the kind of look that said “touch my sister wrong and I will end you,” but Draken just gave you a thumbs-up. Typical.

So you grinned like a fool and twirled Emma into your arms.

“Hey,” she whispered, forehead to yours. “You know what this means, right?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

"We finally get to live."

And so, you did. Together.