---
Morning came with birdsong, filtered sunlight, and… a looming sense of dread.
San was stretching his arms above his head when Hyme stumbled into the kitchen in a hoodie twice his size, yawning like a pampered house cat. His tail lazily curled behind him, and one ear flopped while the other stood up, giving him a very uneven, very adorable look.
"Coffee," Hyme mumbled, sliding onto the stool.
"You don't even drink coffee," San replied, handing him a glass of warm milk.
"Still. I want to pretend I'm stressed like a human."
San snorted. "Trust me, stress is free. You'll get plenty without trying."
He turned to the fridge—only for Hyme to suddenly go rigid behind him.
San glanced back. "What's wrong?"
Hyme was staring at his phone, the screen flickering as a message appeared in bold red letters on a black background:
> You're next, Halfbreed. You think a kitten can inherit an empire?
Then it blinked out.
San rushed over. "Who sent that?"
"No number," Hyme said, voice calm—but San noticed his tail had puffed up like a bottle brush.
San snatched the phone and examined it, but it had already returned to the lock screen.
"Spam?" San asked, though he didn't sound convinced.
"Threat," Hyme muttered, eyes narrowing. "Reiks. Or someone working for him."
San was silent for a beat, then looked at Hyme. "We're going to the police."
"No," Hyme said sharply. "That's exactly what they want. To make me look like a scared kid who runs to humans when things get tough."
"You are a scared kid," San said bluntly. "That's not an insult. That's just a fact."
Hyme turned his gaze on him, eyes gleaming gold in the morning light. "I'm not scared."
San raised a brow. "Your tail says otherwise."
Hyme immediately tucked his tail behind the stool.
"Hyme," San said gently, "you don't have to prove anything to anyone. But you also don't have to deal with this alone. If someone's trying to scare you—"
"They won't succeed." Hyme's voice was low. Fierce.
San studied him for a long moment. Then he grabbed the milk glass, downed it in one gulp, and set it down.
"Well," he said, "I hope they're ready to deal with me too. Because if anyone touches a single fur on your head, I'm going full gym mode."
Hyme blinked. "Is that a threat or a promise?"
"Both," San said. Then added, "I'm still broke, but I punch like a rich man."
---
Later That Day
They decided to lay low—but not in a scared way. In a calculated way.
Hyme spent the afternoon curled up beside San on the couch while they binge-watched supernatural cooking shows. Hyme was particularly offended that none of the chefs knew how to properly braise catnip-infused dumplings.
Just as the show ended, Hyme's phone buzzed again. San grabbed it first.
Another message had appeared.
> Your father's time is over. You're just a soft replacement. Run, kitten. Run.
San clenched the phone so hard his knuckles went white.
But when he looked down at Hyme…
The boy wasn't trembling.
He was calm. Deadly calm.
"I'm not running," Hyme said coldly. "I'm inviting them in."
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