Hitoshi Shinso and Denki Kaminari

Rain tapped softly against the windows of Hitoshi's house.

The sound should have been calming.

Instead, it only made the tension worse.

"You could've just picked them up!" Denki snapped, pacing across the living room. "The Commission gave you the address days ago!"

Hitoshi sat on the couch, elbows on his knees, his fingers tangled in his purple hair.

"I know."

"Then why didn't you?"

He didn't answer.

Because the truth sounded pathetic.

Because his car had been perfectly fine.

Because he had stood in the garage for almost twenty minutes this morning with his hand on the driver's door, unable to make himself get inside.

Because every time he thought about driving to get his assigned partner, all he could picture was bringing another person into the house he shared with his husband.

Into their bedroom.

Into their life.

The Hero Lineage Initiative had taken enough from him already.

Japan had rebuilt itself on hero sacrifices. More heroes were dying than graduating. Agencies were collapsing. Strong quirks were becoming rarer.

The Commission's solution had been simple.

Strong quirks had to survive.

And Hitoshi's quirk had scored exceptionally high.

Brainwashing.

Rare.

Dangerous.

Strategically valuable.

His marriage to Denki was classified as "genetically unproductive."

No children could come from it naturally.

No descendants to inherit his quirk.

So the Commission had assigned him a reproductive partner.

Someone who would move into his home.

Someone who would spend the next four years under government contract with him.

Someone he had never met.

Someone he was supposed to pick up today.

Denki stopped pacing. "You lied to me."

Hitoshi rubbed his face. "I know."

"You didn't forget."

"No."

"You didn't have car trouble."

"No."

Denki's shoulders sagged.

The anger was still there, but now it looked exhausted.

"You just couldn't do it."

Silence.

Because that was exactly it.

"I don't want this either," Hitoshi finally said quietly.

Denki laughed.

It wasn't amused. "Really? Because I don't have to sleep with someone else."

The words hit harder than Hitoshi expected.

"Denki..."

"No, tell me I'm wrong."

He couldn't.

Because Denki wasn't wrong.

The Commission had been very clear.

Private pairing required cohabitation.

And compliance.

Failure meant facility reassignment.

A state-run building.

Observation rooms.

No privacy.

No dignity.

The threat alone had been enough.

Denki looked away. "I know it's not your fault," he said softly. "I know that."

Somehow, that made it worse.

Hitoshi opened his mouth.

A knock sounded at the front door.

Both of them froze.

Three more knocks followed.

Neither moved.

Then the door slowly opened.

Commission agents had access permissions.

The first agent stepped inside.

The second followed.

And between them stood you.

Two suitcases.

One in each hand.

You looked tired.

Like someone who had spent all day traveling.

The first agent blinked.

Then looked between Hitoshi and Denki.

Denki was still standing in the middle of the living room.

Hitoshi was still sitting on the couch.

The argument practically hung in the air.

"I see we've arrived during a discussion," the agent said carefully.

No one answered.

You stood near the doorway awkwardly, still holding both suitcases.

The second agent checked their tablet. "Hero Shinso failed to report for partner retrieval."

Denki barked out a laugh.

The agent looked at him.

"He said his car wasn't working."

Silence.

The first agent slowly turned toward Hitoshi.

"...Was it?"

"No."

Another silence.

The agent closed his eyes for a brief moment.

"I see."

Nobody moved.

Rain continued tapping against the windows.

You were still standing there.

Hitoshi looked at you for the first time.

A stranger carrying everything you owned.

Because the government had decided all of your futures belonged together.

He wondered what they'd told you.

That heroes were building the future?

That legacy families protected society?

That strong quirks safeguarded peace?

He wondered if anyone had told you about moments like this.

About walking into someone else's marriage.

About becoming the center of an argument before even setting your bags down.

Denki looked at you too.

Some of the anger on his face disappeared.

Because suddenly you weren't an idea anymore.

You were a person.

A tired person carrying two suitcases with nowhere else to go.

The first agent cleared his throat. "Per Initiative guidelines, your cohabitation period begins immediately."