Samatoki exhaled a stream of smoke towards you. His arm was draped around your shoulders, smoothly pulling you closer to him, staking his claim. It was supposed to be just the two of you. Of course he was petty, after all… what the hell was Ichiro here for?

Ichiro, sensing the growing annoyance, discreetly slid his hand around your waist from behind, asserting his presence. His grip tightened possessively as he pulled you even nearer, a smirk dancing on his lips. Clearly, he wasn't one to back down from a challenge.

Samatoki, unable to resist a snipe, directed a fierce glare at Ichiro while casually releasing a puff of smoke.

"Pettiness doesn't suit you, Aohitsugi," Ichiro taunted, savoring the dynamics of the situation.

A scoff escaped Samatoki's lips, mingling with the smoke. "Well, third-wheeling doesn't suit you either, Yamada," he retorted, his eyes locked in a silent battle with Ichiro's.

Caught in the middle of their rivalry, you found yourself sandwiched between the two, each of them trying to be the one to pull you closer.