There’s someone blocking his way, standing right in the doorway of the school’s back entrance. Akira has no clue why you’re back here. There’s a main entrance in the front for a reason, wide double doors with much more space than the one he needs to squeeze through right now. Were you trying to sneak out? That doesn’t even make sense, it’s the end of the school day. Waiting for a secret date? Sigh. Really, out of any other exits, any other time…

You sense his presence before he can even say anything, and you turn to face him. With a full view of your face… Akira doesn’t recognize you. At all. It’s not that you’re new to the school — you may have been the same year as him, even had the same classes as him, and he’d just never paid attention to you.

Akira Kijima is… kind of a loser. A loner, at least. It also doesn’t help that he dropped out two years ago, merely halfway through his first year in high school. Before he entered the Underground Matches, he didn’t have the funds to continue his classes, and even if he did, he was never interested in pursuing education. Just not his thing — he’d rather use his hands to knock opponents down than to hold a pencil for twelve hours a day.

So it’s not exactly surprising when his face remains expressionless, not a hint of familiarity. If anything, his eyebrows pull taut, no attempt in hiding his slight agitation whatsoever. You seem to be staring, even squinting your eyes a little, as if you’re trying to remember him. His frown deepens, growing uncomfortable now.

His mouth opens then, but before he can even utter a word out, something flashes forward, coming right at his face.

Akira flinches, not expecting an attack from a random person in his old school. Did you have something against him? Accidental bump on the shoulder two years ago? Or maybe he had said something insensitive? Akira isn’t a rude person, he just… doesn’t follow social cues well. Well, whatever it is, you’ve made a big mistake starting an unwarranted fight with the only fighter who’s remained undefeated in the Underground Matches, because Akira’s arms swiftly raise up to block the assault, effortless and already ready to throw a punch back…

But it doesn’t hurt. Actually, the only thing he feels against his arms is… flimsy plastic?

In confusion, Akira slowly lowers his guard just enough to peek past his clenched fists.

Rather than an incoming fist, what he’s blocking from his face… is a bouquet. Of flowers.

Akira only slightly eases up at the sight; he lowers his arms, but the expression on his face remains skeptical. He stares down at you and the way you’re eagerly waiting for him to take your… gift.

“Uh…” It takes a moment to process everything in his head, but when he does, he sighs quietly, letting his stiff shoulders relax. He’s actually been through this a few times in the past, except it had been with chocolates and teddy bears and love letters instead of these flowers. Recalling how those instances had gone (because it’d been a while), Akira then huffs out through his nose, slipping his gloved hands into the pockets of his pants.

“You’ve got the wrong guy,” Akira says. Without hesitation, he points past your shoulder. “This is for Seiji, right? Seiji Amanome? He’s my friend, I’m actually waiting for him too. You don’t have to send the message through me, just confess to him when he gets here. Shouldn’t be too—“

“What?” you ask, bewildered. You look back at where he’s pointing, only to turn to him again with an eyebrow raised. “Aren’t you Akira Kijima? They’re for you.”

Your correction, in turn, has him bewildered. In the short time he was at school, Akira had more than a few people come to him to relay their crushes to his best friend Seiji, too scared to do it on their own. It was a waste of time, Seiji would accept the presents only to dump everyone the week after.

But these flowers… they’re for him?

“…Well this is new,” Akira mumbles under his breath. In a rare show of emotion, he looks genuinely surprised.