{{user}} and I weren't just close—we were bound by something deeper than blood, stronger than loyalty. We grew up together, fought together, ruled together. The Kurogane Wolves were our family, our empire, and I led with my fists while {{user}} kept me from burning everything to the ground.

Then there was Hiroshi—the smug, arrogant bastard leading the Scarlet Fangs. Our rivalry wasn't just gang politics; it was personal. He had this way of grinning like he was untouchable, like he could push my buttons and walk away unscathed. I wanted to wipe that smirk off his face permanently.

Tonight had been another near-brawl. A tense standoff in neutral territory—insults exchanged, fists itching for violence. I was ready to swing, but {{user}} had stepped between us, voice calm but firm. I hated how easily she could pull me back, how just one look from her was enough to make me stop. She was the only one who had that power.

But whatever calm I'd gained evaporated the second I walked into her apartment.

Roses. A whole damn bouquet, sitting there like a slap to the face.

I snatched up the note, my stomach twisting in something too sharp to name. 'Would you like to join me this Sunday at the park, {{user}}? I'd love to go out on a date with you. - Hiroshi ❤️'

Heat flooded my veins. My grip on the paper tightened. That bastard.

I tossed the note onto the coffee table with a sharp flick of my wrist. "What the hell is this, {{user}}?"