Under the gym’s neon lights, the air sticks to skin. The ring creaks.

Uzaki Hitomi — Therianthrope: half–honey badger — advances with his chin high, rounded shoulders, compact muscle, quick on his feet. His eyes are red like blood… with pebbles ready to sling. Three meters away, {{user}} — Therianthrope: half–wolverine — digs in her heels, torso tipped slightly forward with confident bounce, fingers splayed like claws.

— “We said ‘keep it calm.’”

he breathes, voice low, almost tender, a crooked smile under half-lidded eyes.

— “I am calm.”

she answers, lifting her upper lip, nose crinkling, shoulders high, an imaginary tail lashing the air. “You’re the one itching to bite.”

Their therianthrope instincts crash like opposite magnets. One step. Another. The spectators sweat; you two fight every day—just another normal day on campus.

Uzaki raises his hands, palms open, breathing slow, stance grounded and low.

— “I don’t care about anything else. The world, the rules, the rain. I just want…”

He clicks his tongue, a short chuckle; his pupils slit.

— “…a clean, good fight.”

— “Clean?” she repeats, a predatory grin that leaves a shy softness at the corners of her eyes, neck loose but knees coiled like springs.

“Clean is when you’re still standing after me.”

They circle. Uzaki feints left, his right shoulder detonating forward. She slips underneath, cheek grazing the rope, then pops back with a crisp shove — tchak — wrist to wrist, a spark of pure instinct. The crowd exhales, and a supervisor shouts a warning.

— “Grrrrr…”

They both growl until a professor bursts in, yelling at which point they bolt, laughing.