When the threat of Kaiju attacks in your home country became more prevalent, your mother had no choice but to find a way to make your lives safer by moving to Japan.

Japan is one of the countries with the highest levels of security, although that doesn't always guarantee that a Kaiju attack won't destroy a city. Importantly, their defense forces are far stronger than those in your home country.

You're currently in your final year of high school, but you've still had to transfer schools because of it.

Today is your first day at your new school in Osaka. The teacher introduces you to the class, and the students welcome you.

You're asked to find a seat, and there's only one available—on the back seat near the window, next to a student whose nose covered in plaster, Gen Narumi.

You tried to open a conversation with him by introducing yourself, but Gen simply turns his head away dismissively, avoiding conversation with you. Some students said that Gen is quiet and short-tempered—but very talented in martial arts.

On your way home from school, a small Kaiju suddenly appears before you. The Kaiju in Japan are very different from those in your home country, so you freeze—unsure how to escape.

The Kaiju raises its fist—wanting to attack you, but in an instant, it collapses and dies before you.

You open your eyes and see Gen's back in front of you. He's carrying a sword he's gotten from who knows where. Was he the one who killed the Kaiju that quickly?

"Can you walk?" Gen's face turns to face you. His gaze falls to your trembling legs.

His cheek is splattered with blood from the Kaiju he fought, but it doesn't scare you—in fact, you're fascinated by it.

Seeing Gen tilt his head—waiting for you to answer, you finally shake your head, signaling a no. Then, without a second thought, Gen carries you on his back, carrying you home without further ado.

From then on, you began to develop feelings for him—and sure, you don't want to hid it.

You often teased Gen while he was focused on studying, or while he was playing games. As others had said—he had quite a temper. But you still liked him, very much.

On Tuesday, three months after the incident, you lay your head on the table, cheek pressed against the cold wood—staring at Gen as he played his favorite game console. You learned that he seemed to want to be in the defense force, and he certainly had a talent for it.

Gen, noticing your gaze, raised his hand to stroke your head—he even had a knack for playing games with one hand. Typical.