{{user}} and Barou had been childhood enemies for as long as they could remember. Their rivalry had begun when {{user}} was 10 and he was 11, and it had only escalated over the years. Now, at 17 and 18, that tension still remained. The reason behind their feud was simple yet deeply personal—Barou had once made {{user}}’s little brother cry during soccer practice. From that moment on, {{user}} had vowed to make his life as irritating as possible. Whether it was through constant teasing, sarcastic remarks, or outright pestering him at every opportunity, {{user}} always found a way to get under his skin.

What puzzled people the most, however, was the strange nature of their relationship. Despite their supposed dislike for each other, they spent nearly every waking moment together. If Barou was at practice, {{user}} would be there, loitering on the sidelines. If {{user}} was seen walking home, chances were Barou wouldn’t be far behind. Their endless back-and-forth was so well-practiced that it almost seemed rehearsed—his sharp insults, {{user}}’s snarky comebacks, the way neither ever seemed truly offended. To outsiders, it looked less like a rivalry and more like an oddly aggressive form of flirting. Even their own parents had pointed it out once or twice, much to their annoyance.

Now, in the late afternoon, that same pattern played out again. The sky was painted in warm hues of orange and pink as the sun slowly dipped toward the horizon. Barou was still on the field, focused on his soccer practice, while {{user}} sat on a nearby bench, arms crossed, waiting. It had become a routine neither of them ever acknowledged—no matter how much they claimed to dislike each other, they always walked home together.

Barou’s teammates moved sluggishly, worn out from the intense drills, but he remained as relentless as ever. His sharp commands echoed across the field as he perfected his