The rented moving van was big. Too big. Satoshi's hands clenched the steering wheel like it might try to escape. He muttered quietly, his eyes flicking between the road and the rearview mirrors.
"Left turn in... 200 meters," the GPS chirped.
"We should've hired someone," he grumbled. "A driver, or—I don't know, movers."
From the passenger seat, Shirou leaned slightly forward, glancing out the window with a casual, practiced awareness. "You could've let me drive."
Satoshi immediately shook his head. "No. You drive like you're in a car chase."
Ashwatthama snorted from the cramped back seat. "He's not wrong."
Satoshi added, without glancing back, "And I'm still not sure you even knew what a seatbelt was before we explained it to you."
Another snort. This one more amused.
"Everyone just—don't distract me. Please. One bump and we lose Riley's bed. Or the air fryer."
In the back seat, Riley was humming softly while playing some simple game on a normal tablet. Ralts peeked curiously through the slats of a box near her.
The GPS beeped again. "Rerouting. Heaviest traffic ahead. Detour suggested."
Satoshi cursed under his breath but followed the new route. It took them down a rougher road, lined with warehouses and cracked pavement. The buildings were spaced further apart, graffiti tagging every surface. A bad feeling settled in his stomach, heavier than the van's cargo.
"Maybe we should—" Satoshi began, but he was cut off as two bikes roared into view, skidding into position in front of the van. A rusted pickup slid in from the alley, boxing them in. "Oh, no."
A gang of masked men—about six—stepped into view, weapons visible. One had a pipe. Another a taser. A third waved a crude-looking gun.
"They're amateurs," Shirou said, eyes narrowing.
"They're armed amateurs!" Satoshi hissed. "Riley's in the van!"
Shirou unbuckled his seatbelt anyway. "We won't even need to use any powers."
Ashwatthama was already opening his door, stepping out with a look that promised violence. "Stay in the van," he muttered, then added, almost teasing, "unless you want a crash course in intimidation."
Satoshi clutched the wheel tighter. "I hate this city."
The gang started shouting. Demands. Orders. Satoshi didn't process them. His eyes stayed locked on the side mirrors. Ralts chirped and floated protectively closer to Riley.
Then it happened fast.
Shirou moved first—ducking a swing from the pipe and jabbing the wielder in the ribs with precision that sent him crumpling. Ashwatthama simply stared at the one with the taser. When the man lunged, Ashwatthama grabbed his arm and twisted. Something snapped.
The guy with the gun tried to raise it, but Shirou kicked it from his hand, caught it mid-air, and tossed it into the sewer drain without looking. Two more ran for the bikes. Ralts' eyes glowed and a man dropped like a sack of rocks, clutching his head and screaming.
The other?
Ashwatthama backhanded him before he made it to the seat. The bike clattered to the ground.
It was over in less than a minute.
Shirou adjusted his collar like nothing happened. Ashwatthama flexed his hand. "Didn't even get to sweat."
Satoshi unlocked the doors and stepped out cautiously. "Is—are they alive?"
"They'll wish they weren't when they wake up," Shirou muttered.
The flashing blue-and-red lights made Satoshi's stomach churn. He was still gripping the steering wheel with white-knuckled tension when the Protectorate vehicle pulled up beside the downed thugs. The van was now awkwardly parked on the side of the road—battered bikes and groaning bodies scattered across the pavement.
Two junior officers stepped out, their armor slightly mismatched and their movements stiff. Probably local recruits, not veterans. One held up a hand toward Shirou and Ashwatthama, the other approached the driver's side of the van.
"Sir," he said as Satoshi rolled the window halfway. "We're going to need all individuals involved to come in for questioning."
Shirou and Ashwatthama didn't speak. Satoshi smiled brightly from the driver's seat. "It was self-defense. We're just passing through Boston to go to Brockton Bay. We didn't provoke them and they tried to rob us."
"I understand, sir. But procedures are procedures. Please step out of the vehicle—"
"Wait." Satoshi raised a hand. "Can I make a call?"
The officer paused, clearly caught off guard. "To who?"
"To Dragon."
That gave them both pause, but Satoshi didn't wait for permission. He pulled out his phone, swiping fast to the contact labeled just 'D' and pressed it to his ear. It rang once. Then twice.
"This is Dragon."
"Hi—hi, it's Satoshi. Uh, sorry to call like this. We—uh—we were attacked in Boston. Trying to move through the city with our van and—"
"Wait a moment. Let me investigate," Dragon interrupted and there was a moment of silence in which Satoshi decided to put the call on speaker. "You're near the old textile district. There's a street cam a block back. Give me two minutes to upload the footage."
Satoshi exhaled sharply. "Thank you. Really."
"I'll forward it to the Boston PRT branch and alert local Protectorate command. Sit tight."
He nodded, even though she couldn't see him. "Thanks."
"Oh, and Satoshi? Based on what I saw…" Her tone dropped slightly. "Your husbands were very efficient."
He blanched. "I didn't—! That's not—uh—"
"I'm not judging." She sounded amused. "But you should be aware—PRT recruitment may reach out."
Satoshi felt Shirou tense beside the van, as if he heard that part. "Can you… stop that from happening?"
"I can try," she said, with a smile in her voice. "But they're very persuasive. Especially when they see the footage."
She paused for a beat.
"Tell me something, Satoshi. The man in red—Ashwatthama. Is he as strong as Shirou?"
Satoshi hesitated, flicking a glance toward Ashwatthama, who was calmly dusting off his sleeves like he hadn't just disarmed and disabled two men without breaking a sweat.
"…He didn't use his full strength," Satoshi answered carefully.
Dragon hummed. "Thought so. I'll mention that subtly to the right people. Keep things light."
The call ended just as one of the officers' radios crackled to life.
"Dispatch confirms non-hostile. Stand down. Dragon just forwarded surveillance footage. Subject IDs verified. Repeat, do not detain."
The officer blinked at Satoshi, then at Shirou and Ashwatthama, who had crossed their arms in near-perfect synchronization. "Uh… sorry for the trouble."
Satoshi nodded and offered a weak smile.
And then it happened. One of the officers turned toward the other and said, "Both husbands, huh? That's a new one."
Satoshi turned red to the roots of his hair, but the officer didn't look disgusted. Just surprised. He shrugged as if saying not my business and moved on to secure the perimeter. Satoshi leaned back in the seat, staring up at the roof of the van, breath catching in his throat. The world had shifted again. Not just because he was married. But because no one batted an eye.
He was sure this world had changed and the Company had done it. He was the only one who remembered what should have raised eyebrows—and didn't. What should have triggered questioning—and hadn't. Shirou and Ashwatthama knew too, of course. They shared a glance behind the officer's back. Wordless. A little haunted.
Satoshi sighed and leaned forward on the wheel.
"Next time," he muttered, "we're hiring movers. Also, thanks for… not escalating."
"We don't escalate," Ashwatthama said, walking back to the van.
"...We finish," Shirou added.
Satoshi groaned as he returned to the driver's seat. "Can we not get arrested before we even move in?"
Riley peeked from the back. "That was so cool! Can we do that again?"
"No," Satoshi snapped. "Absolutely not."
.
The hum of the road beneath the tires was oddly soothing. The chaos of earlier had passed, and Riley was finally asleep again in the back seat, curled up with Ralts. Her soft snores mingled with the muffled clinks of the boxes stacked securely behind her.
Satoshi leaned back in the passenger seat now, arms crossed. Shirou was driving—because apparently, when a truckload of thugs got stomped by two of your husbands, no one questioned your ability to swap seats afterward. He still kept a close eye on his driving from the passenger seat while Ashwatthama sat in the back beside Riley, gaze out the window, contemplative.
The Boston skyline faded behind them, gray against the sky.
"So," Satoshi began quietly, eyes half-lidded as he watched the highway roll past. "That was… a thing."
"Boston Blowback," Shirou said, almost conversational. "That's what they're calling it now."
Satoshi hummed. "Power vacuum. All the gangs trying to grab a piece before someone stronger steps in."
"I've seen worse," Ashwatthama muttered from the back, his voice low but steady. "Still. It's a good place to hit something."
Satoshi tilted his head. "You just want to punch people."
"I'm being honest," Ashwatthama said with a shrug. "I may not be full of anger all time, but I still have needs." He glanced at Satoshi, face unreadable but voice full of suggestion. "Unless you'd rather help me… vent them another way?"
Satoshi flushed immediately. "Ashwatthama," he hissed under his breath, throwing a quick glance to the back. Riley was still asleep, thank God. "Could you not say that while there's a child in the van?"
Ashwatthama chuckled darkly.
Shirou, eyes still on the road, smirked faintly. "He's not the only one. I don't mind you helping me out, from time to time."
"You're supposed to be the reasonable one!" Satoshi groaned, dragging a hand down his face.
Silence settled again, but the tension was still there—laced with heat, unspoken affection, and exasperated love. Then, after a beat, Satoshi sighed and muttered, "...Should I get married again?"
Shirou blinked. "What?"
"I meant another summon," Satoshi clarified quickly. "Not literally another wedding. But—" He trailed off, glancing toward the backseat. "We're heading into Brockton Bay. It's not exactly safe. If things get worse… another pair of hands might help."
Ashwatthama hummed thoughtfully. "If you do, they better not be prettier than us."
Shirou didn't respond right away. His fingers tightened just slightly on the steering wheel. "It depends on the reason. Don't summon just because you're afraid."
Satoshi turned his face toward the window, exhaling softly. "I'm not afraid. I just… I want us to be okay. All of us. Riley, too."
Ashwatthama's voice was quieter this time. "Then summon someone who needs it. Like we did."
Satoshi didn't respond right away, but his heart fluttered in his chest—warm, and guilty, and full.
They rode the rest of the way in thoughtful silence. The first signs of Brockton Bay glimmered on the horizon.
.
.
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