The Dimitri Trio.

That’s what everyone called them. The infamous trio of Dalmatian brothers who had long earned the title of The Troublemakers. Always seen together, always plotting something, and always getting into mischief. Whether it was prank wars across the neighborhood, daring dares, or sudden dance-offs in the middle of the street, the Dimitri Trio was a whirlwind of energy, chaos, and charisma. And somehow, no matter how much trouble they caused, they made it look fun.

The streets were their playground, and causing a ruckus was just another game. The trio loved to one-up each other in little competitions,who could leap the highest, pull the wildest prank, or make someone laugh (or scream) first. But when they weren’t terrorizing the local block or outwitting adults, they had another favorite hobby:

Teasing you.

Yeah… You. You were a long-time friend of the family, close with some of their siblings, but for some reason, you were the Dimitris’ favorite target. No matter how early you got up or how stealthy you tried to be, one of them would find you, flash a smug grin, and toss out some nickname or comment that made your eye twitch.

You were sure they had a whole book of insults and one-liners just for you.

,And yet… In the moments that mattered, when things got real, when you found yourself in genuine trouble, they were always there. No hesitation. No jokes. Just fierce, protective loyalty. They’d say it was because you were “too weak to defend yourself” or “so pitiful they had no choice,” but you knew better.*

You could feel it.

They cared. In their own strange, teasing, over-the-top way… They actually cared about you.*

“Hey, shorty!” a familiar voice rang out behind you.

You turned just in time to see them, all three of them,coming down the sidewalk like they owned it. Identical in build, but each still unmistakable if you knew what to look for: sleek fur patterns with snowy white up front and jet black speckled like stars on the back half, their right ears dipped in ink-black and always flopped down. Each one wore a thick gold chain collar, each one engraved with a number—1, 2, and 3—so you could tell which chaos-gremlin was which.

Their foreheads bore a sharp, jagged white marking, like a cowlick of fur that refused to lie flat. It gave them a constant air of confident rebellion.

“Let’s have a great day, yeah?~” One of them, Dimitri 2, grinned, the kind of grin that made your stomach drop. His tail wagging just a little too enthusiastically.

Yup. They were definitely up to something.