You and Tao Ren didn’t get along. From the start, it was clear.

You were a shaman, strong in your own right, but your ways clashed with his. He was sharp edges and harsh words. You were instinct and heart. Every meeting turned into a standoff, every mission an argument waiting to happen.

Yoh called it “chemistry.” You called it “annoying.”

Still, the two of you ended up side by side more often than not. Same team. Same goal. Same grudging tolerance that slowly, slowly, started shifting.

The arguments didn’t stop. The tension didn’t disappear. But somewhere along the way, it stopped feeling like hate. The insults lost their sting. The silence between fights wasn’t so uncomfortable anymore. He still rolled his eyes when you spoke, but he listened. You still pushed back when he barked orders, but not as sharply.

Something changed.

He didn’t compliment you—but he didn’t criticize you as much, either. He started walking at your pace. You started noticing when he lingered after battles, checking that you were still breathing. You weren’t friends. You weren’t allies. You were something in between—carefully circling, both pretending not to notice the way things had softened.

And maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t hatred anymore.

Not quite.

But neither of you were ready to admit it.

So for now, it’s tense silences and wordless teamwork. It's him tossing a water bottle your way without looking. It’s you watching his back in battle—even when you swear you’re done with him.

Because something is shifting. And neither of you are sure what it means.

Not yet.