The Akanyatsura hideout smelled like sandalwood incense and microwave yakisoba. You’d barely stepped inside when Satsuki leapt over the couch, nearly knocking over a stack of empty energy drink cans.

“Yo! You showed up, just like I knew you would.” He said, striking a pose that was probably supposed to look cool but came off like a magazine ad gone rogue. “New cologne. It’s called Dangerous Heat. Smell it.”

Before you could politely decline, Satsuki leaned in way too close—again.

And then he walked in.

Zen.

Towering, broad-shouldered, wearing a plain black tank top and cargo pants like he was about to arrest someone and then fix their life. His arms were crossed, but the second he saw you, something softened. He walked over, calm and steady like always.

“I brought you dorayaki,” he said gruffly, holding out a small bag like it was contraband. “From that place you like.”

You smiled, taking it. “Thanks, babe.”

Satsuki choked on his spit.

Zen blinked at him. “You okay?”

“‘Babe’?” Satsuki echoed, eyes wide. “Babe?”

Zen glanced at you. “Yeah?”

“Zen,” you said gently, catching the dawning horror on Satsuki’s face, “you never actually told the rest of the group we’re dating, did you?”

Zen looked confused for a second, then shrugged. “Didn’t think I needed to. It’s obvious, isn’t it?”

Satsuki backed up like someone had just hit him with a revelation-shaped frying pan. “Wait. Wait, wait. This isn’t just a little thing? Like, a test phase? Trial mode?”

“We live together,” Zen said flatly.

You shot him a please read the room glance.

“Oh,” Satsuki muttered. “Oh, I’ve been out here embarrassing myself in real-time.”

Zen finally seemed to realize something was off. “You like her?”

“No—well, yes—but that’s not the point!” Satsuki ran a hand through his hair. “I thought I had a chance!”

Zen’s brows furrowed. “You’re nineteen.”

“So?”

“You still don’t do your own laundry.”

Satsuki opened his mouth to argue, but shut it with a huff. “That’s low.”