Titan Rumble Ch 25: Hated Conversations!

I was waiting by the front door of the Takamura house, arms crossed, shifting my weight from one foot to the other on the little end table they'd set up for me like a makeshift bench. Mr. Takamura had offered me a lift back to the dojo earlier, but I'd politely declined. Said I'd wait for Yuna. He raised an eyebrow at that, gave me a knowing smirk, and left the room muttering something about "stubborn boys and proud daughters."

Now here I was, tapping my fingers on my leg, feeling the faintest tremors start to ripple through the floorboards.

Boom.

Boom.

Boom.

Ah, there it was—the gentle rumble of doom approaching. A second later, the double doors creaked open and Yuna stepped through, dressed in her training gear again. She looked a little winded, like she'd jogged all the way here... which, considering the size of this place, was probably true.

Her eyes immediately fell on me.

"I'm sorry," she said, almost out of breath. "I shouldn't have left you like that."

I waved my hand like it was no big deal. "Nah, it's fine. I didn't even notice. It's not like I was in danger of being crushed under one of your family's emotional landmines or anything."

Yuna frowned, clearly not amused. "Of course it is. You're my responsibility."

I blinked. "Yuna, I'm literally alive. I'm not limping, I'm not bleeding, and I didn't get eaten by one of your giant houseplants. You're good. Seriously."

She hesitated, then gave me a small smile—just a flicker of warmth. "Still... it won't happen again. Promise."

Her hand lowered in front of me, palm open like a small platform. I stepped onto her finger, steadying myself with one hand against her nail as I walked toward the center of her palm.

"Chauffeur Yuna reporting for duty," I muttered with a smirk, taking a seat like I was boarding a weird organic Uber.

She rolled her eyes but chuckled as she gently lifted me and began walking back through the house.

The halls passed in a blur of polished wood and scrolls that were probably taller than my entire apartment. I sat cross-legged in her hand, the rhythmic thud of her footsteps creating a weirdly relaxing beat beneath me.

Then we passed a familiar door.

Aurora's door.

I glanced at it, then back up toward Yuna's face.

"Sooo," I said, dragging the word out, "your sister..."

Yuna's steps stopped abruptly, and I pitched forward in her palm like a sack of potatoes.

"Ow—dammit," I grunted, flopping face-first onto her hand.

"I don't want to talk about it," she said flatly.

I slowly rolled over, looking up into one gigantic, unamused eye staring down at me.

"Oookay," I muttered, holding up my hands like she was a cop and I'd just jaywalked. "Touchy subject. Got it."

She blinked once, then resumed walking.

I stayed very, very quiet for the rest of the trip.

Lesson learned: don't poke the sleeping storm that is a Takamura family feud—especially while you're literally sitting in the palm of one of the participants.

Yuna's hand lowered like an elevator coming to a smooth stop, her fingers slowly tilting so I could step off onto the table beside my little house. I hopped off her palm with a soft pat and stretched my legs a bit, still feeling sore in all the places I didn't even know could be sore.

"Thanks for the ride," I said, half-joking, half-serious.

She didn't smile right away.

Instead, Yuna sat down heavily on the edge of the bed, the whole room giving a small groan of protest beneath her. Her shoulders were tense, her gaze fixed on the floor for a moment like she was working through something heavy. Then she looked at me—more softly this time—and sighed.

"Sorry... for earlier. For snapping at you."

I shrugged. "Eh. I've been snapped at worse. You ever see a squirrel fight a raccoon? I have. That's way more terrifying."

She actually smiled at that, but just for a moment. It faded as quickly as it came.

"It's just... me and Aurora—it's complicated."

I didn't say anything. Just sat cross-legged on the edge of the table, watching her quietly. I could tell this wasn't one of those times where she wanted advice or jokes. She just needed someone to hear her.

"In Alpha culture," she started, her voice steady but quiet, "strength is everything. But not just brute strength. Honor, discipline, purpose... Those things matter just as much. Power without them is seen as dangerous. Reckless."

She looked at her hands for a moment—big, steady hands that could crush a tree but carried me around like I was something fragile.

"My sister never got that," she said, her voice tightening just a little. "She's... naturally gifted. Fighting came easy to her. She's never lost. Not once."

Yuna glanced at me, then looked away again like she was ashamed to even admit it.

"I think... that's the problem. She never had to struggle. Never had to ask herself why she was fighting. So she never cared about anything but winning."

I nodded slightly, not daring to interrupt. I wasn't sure what to say anyway, but I didn't think she needed words from me. Just space to finally say this out loud.

Yuna stood up a moment later, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear, her gaze focused and sharp again.

"But that's her path," she said. "I won't let it interfere with ours."

She looked at me, and there was something solid in her voice now. No anger. No bitterness. Just resolve.

"I promise."

I gave her a small nod, serious this time. "Alright. I'm holding you to that."

She smirked faintly and turned to leave.

I watched her go, the floor quaking lightly under each step as she disappeared down the hall.

Once she was gone, I leaned back against my little house and let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.

One thing was for sure—being small didn't mean my life had gotten any simpler.

The Takamuras were a lot of things.

And apparently?

Drama was one of them.