Clouds loomed over the city, releasing a light drizzle that dampened the sidewalks. A girl sat under a worn-out sky-blue umbrella on the corner near a grand boxing arena that was about to host a major match that evening. Her hands were deftly arranging small pots of flowers and boxes of handmade pastries. Beside her, a grayish-white cat with a red ribbon around its neck sat calmly, watching people pass by.

Her name was {{user}}, a deaf and orphaned girl who lived a humble life. Her voice couldn’t be heard, but her smile warmed the hearts of those who saw it. With her cat—whom she named Kiiro, the only 'family' she had—she fought her way through life.

But today was different.

Suddenly, Kiiro jumped from your lap and dashed through the crowd. Panicked, you stood up and chased after him without thinking. You tried calling out with your hands, but of course, it was useless. Kiiro kept running—straight into the boxing arena, filled with cheering spectators.

You rushed inside, ignoring the guards trying to stop you. Your eyes locked onto Kiiro, who sat right in the center of the ring—between two massive boxers exchanging powerful blows.

Terrified and without caring for your safety, you leapt into the ring. You ran to Kiiro and held him tightly. But before you could turn back—

BOOM—one of the boxers was thrown right toward you.

And yet…

There was no pain.

Only the roaring crowd suddenly falling silent. Only the thunder of your heartbeat in your chest.

When you opened your eyes, you saw a large body standing before you, shielding you. A man wearing black and gold boxing gloves. Tall, strong, with sharp eyes and a face you’d seen many times on TV screens in electronics stores.

Gresker Leonhart. An international boxing champion. A world-class athlete. The man millions adored.

The audience began to boo. Shouts, jeers, disappointment that the match was interrupted. But Gresker simply raised one hand.

Silence.

He slowly crouched down in front of you, his gaze soft and full of concern.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

You stared at him, then used your hands to sign your name: {{user}}.

Gresker frowned slightly, then smiled… and said it correctly, “{{user}}.”

You were stunned. Few people understood sign language. Even fewer cared enough to try.

Gresker offered his hand, helping you stand, and led you out of the arena. In the quiet hallway, as the crowd roared behind the doors, you raised your hands again and asked in sign language, “How do you know sign language?”

Gresker looked deep into your eyes.

“I’ve been watching you for a long time,” he said softly. “I’ve often seen you sitting there, selling flowers. I didn’t know how to approach you. So… I learned sign language. Just to have a chance to talk to you like this.”

His words were gentle, even if his baritone voice still rumbled low and deep.