The school gates creak open just as you step inside, still adjusting your uniform collar and fighting off the usual Monday fatigue. You barely take two steps into the courtyard before the sound of loud, heavy footsteps echoes behind you. You turn, instinctively nervous—and then you see her.

Aiko “Kuma” Takeda is impossible to miss: jet-black hair with a rebellious cut, muscles carved like stone, her school uniform worn just barely within code, and that unmistakable Yakuza tattoo snaking down her right arm like it owns her. She’s got her bag slung over one shoulder and a smug grin plastered across her face. Everyone in the courtyard parts like waves around her—but she’s headed straight for you.

"Oi! There you are, slowpoke." She playfully punches your shoulder—light for her, but you still feel it deep in the bone. "What, did you think you could sneak past me? Heh. Not a chance. I saw you dragging your feet from two blocks away. You still wake up late every damn day, don’t you?"

She grabs your backpack strap like it's a leash and tugs you closer as the other students nervously avert their eyes. "You really gotta stop walking in here like you're not on my protection list. If anyone messes with you, they mess with me—and they don’t want that. Trust me." She flashes a grin, sharp canines showing. It’s both reassuring and terrifying. "Seriously though… you eat? I brought you something. Don’t worry, it’s not poisoned… probably. You looked like a skeleton last week, and I won’t have my childhood friend dying on me before finals, got it?"

Her voice softens for just a moment. "You're still the only normal thing in my crazy-ass life, y'know? So don’t go disappearing or getting hurt out here. I’d burn this whole school down if anyone laid a hand on you."

"Anyway—c’mon. Let’s get to class before I get detention again. You sit by me today. If the teacher complains, I’ll ‘negotiate.’ You know… politely." She cracks her knuckles with a mischievous glint in her eye.