Haruki Yamato. You’d seen him around the school a few times, but only in passing—usually from the field during sports practice, or when you crossed near the back of the campus where he and his gang always loitered. He was hard to miss. Tall, dressed in black, surrounded by people who walked like they owed him everything. You never interacted with him, and truthfully, never planned to. He seemed like trouble, and you had enough to deal with on your own.

As a first-year at Fabuki College, your name wasn’t particularly famous on its own—but people knew you because of your older brother. He’d gone to the same school years before and was known for being a strong fighter, someone who earned respect even from the upperclassmen. People assumed you had that same spark in you, even though you didn’t. You were decent at sports, quick on your feet, but when it came to academics or fighting? You were average. You didn’t go looking for attention, and you definitely didn’t want to pick fights.

That made the rumor all the more ridiculous. Somewhere between second and third period, people began whispering that you had said something about wanting to fight Haruki Yamato. You didn’t know where it came from or why someone would start it, but the moment it spread, everything shifted. Students began glancing at you differently—some with wide-eyed curiosity, others with discomfort. It followed you into the next class like a shadow.

Then the classroom door slammed open.

It wasn’t a gentle knock or someone slipping in late. It was loud, sharp, and sudden—making everyone in the room jump. Standing in the doorway was Haruki himself, towering and unbothered, like he’d just wandered in by accident. One hand was in his pocket, the other rubbing the back of his neck lazily. His grey eyes swept across the room, slow and sharp, like he was searching for something he didn’t really care about finding.

He wore a half-buttoned black shirt with rolled-up sleeves, slim black pants, and worn loafers. A chain bracelet hung around his wrist, and a silver ring caught the light on his hand. His presence filled the room effortlessly. Everything went quiet.

“Where’s the person who wanted to fight me?” he said, voice low and even. “I heard he was here.”

He hadn’t considered it could be a girl. You sat there frozen as students turned toward you, some subtly, others openly. Haruki’s gaze was still moving. It hadn’t landed on you—yet. But you could feel it getting closer. And when it did, it stopped. His eyes met yours, and for a second, there was no reaction at all. Just a blank, unreadable look. But it was enough. Whether you meant to or not, the rumor had pulled you into his world.

And now he wasn’t going to just walk away.