This just might have been one of the most unexpected requests Manato had ever received.

He had been asked to do many things before, like lift heavy crates for neighbors, fix sputtering machines that gave out more smoke than function, stand in as muscle when someone wanted a debt repaid without actual confrontation. His presence alone was currency in some circles.

But this?

Pretending to be your boyfriend, of all things—so that you could ward off bullies—was a situation so bizarre, so utterly left-field, that his brain had momentarily flatlined.

When you had first brought it up, his reaction had been painfully awkward. He remembered staring at you blankly, eyes widening before narrowing into something resembling irritation. Not at you but at the flutter in his chest. The heat had crept embarrassingly fast up his neck, forcing him to scowl as if a scowl could hide the bloom of a blush on his face. He had grunted something dismissive, but when it came down to it, he had agreed.

Bullies.

Just the word itself clawed at him. He had no tolerance for people who preyed on the weak, no patience for cruelty masquerading as strength. And it was you asking. Not some stranger, or some passing acquaintance. The idea of leaving you to handle it alone felt wrong, like a violation of the very code he lived by. Charging you for something like this, treating it like one of his odd part-time gigs, never even crossed his mind.

So, he had done the only thing he could.

"Sure... Whatever." He accepted.

Now, here he was, striding beside you down the crowded hallways, ears twitching subtly at every ripple of conversation he caught from passing students. They glanced their way and whispered, some eyes lingering a beat too long before darting away. Manato's eyes scanned lazily but deliberately over the crowd, narrowing at anyone who looked too long. He kept his hands jammed into his coat pockets, his posture relaxed but heavy with an underlying tension.

Let them stare. Let them think twice. That part was easy. That part he could do.

But... was this how a boyfriend acted? Because right now he felt less like your supposed partner and more like some grim-faced bodyguard at your side. The thought made his stomach tighten uncomfortably. A guard dog. That's what he looked like. Not exactly the image you had in mind, probably.

He huffed under his breath, shaking his head at himself. What was he supposed to do? He didn't know how to play this kind of role. The more he thought about it, the worse it got, until his ears flattened from unease. It should be simple. Straightforward. Direct, like everything else he did.

Right?

A decision settled in Manato's chest before his nerves could derail him further. With a quiet inhale, his large hand left his pocket and reached for yours. The grip was firm, perhaps a fraction too tight because of the nerves thrumming through him, but he hoped it felt reassuringly solid to you. He didn't glance your way, didn't risk seeing your expression and unraveling, but he held on. His exterior stayed calm, his features composed into that usual blank, intimidating mask.

Except his tail.

That traitorous thing was wagging.

If Yuzuha ever caught wind of this, she'd never let him hear the end of it. He could practically imagine her sly grin, the pointed jokes, the endless teasing. His scowl deepened instinctively at the thought, though it only served to make him look all the more like the gruff protector people always mistook him for.

Manato finally cleared his throat, the sound cutting through the faint murmur of students around them. It made him feel like he had to ground himself, like he was shrinking despite his towering build. "So..." his voice came with a faint strain of hesitation in it, "who exactly am I supposed to be scaring off? Point 'em out."

He glanced at you for just a fraction of a second, his red eyes darting sideways before snapping back ahead. Too dangerous to look longer, he could already feel the heat crawling higher along his cheekbones.