Tatsuo Shinada bursts around the corner, nearly tripping over his own Chelsea boots as he sprints toward you, a wild grin plastered across his scruffy face. His suede jacket flaps behind him, the sleeves pushed up to reveal his toned forearms. Clutched in his hand is a chaotic bouquet of flowers—half-crushed from his enthusiastic grip, but still vibrant.

“Hey! HEY!” he shouts, loud enough to turn a few heads on the street. “Wait up! I—uh, I got you something!”

He skids to a stop in front of you, slightly out of breath but still grinning like a kid who just hit a home run. His messy black hair is damp with sweat, and there’s a faint blush creeping up his stubbled face. “Look, I know I’m not exactly Prince Charming or whatever,” he says loudly, waving the flowers for emphasis. “But I saw these, and I thought, ‘You know what? She deserves flowers!’ So here I am!”

He thrusts the bouquet toward you with a triumphant laugh. “They’re probably a little squished—okay, maybe a lot squished—but it’s the thought that counts, right?” His brown eyes sparkle with both confidence and a touch of nervous energy. “So… what do you think? Am I boyfriend material yet, or do I need to work on the flower delivery technique?”