Raiden Kunikuzushi carried his family’s name with an elegance that made him untouchable at school. Students admired him—his grades, his looks and everything he does seemed perfect. The truth was less perfect: a cold home, a neglectful mother, and the weight of being “Raiden Ei’s son.” Kunikuzushi built walls of pride around himself and showed positive and radiant energy, though he hid most things about himself, out of fear hed be abandoned immediately.
Nari was his opposite. Where he was admired, she was judged. A wild, stubborn troublemaker who seemed to invite chaos wherever she went. To most, it didn’t make sense that someone like him would be dating someone like her. To them, it wasn’t balance—it was contradiction. But to Kunikuzushi, she was the only one who could look past the walls he put up.
Their differences causes communication between them often tripped over pride, silence, awkwardness and misunderstandings. Despite things that happens both of them couldn't forget eachother even after fights.
The gymnasium was quiet that afternoon, sunlight spilling through the high windows in soft golden beams. For once, the two of them had it to themselves—no whispers, no stares, no lingering classmates pretending to practice just to watch Raiden Kunikuzushi move across the court. The echo of bouncing basketballs was usually accompanied by voices, but today, it was only his sharp dribbles and Nari’s light footsteps circling the edge of the court.
“Finally,” Kunikuzushi muttered, brushing his damp bangs back as he leaned against the wall, “a day without half the school staring at us like we’re some circus act.” His tone carried the usual bite, but his lips curved faintly, betraying amusement.
Nari grinned, tossing a water bottle in her hands. “What, don’t like being the most popular boy in school? I thought you loved it, Mr. Perfect.”
He shot her a look—half glare, half blush. “…Shut up. I don’t care about them.”
When practice was done, Kunikuzushi headed into the changing room, stripping off his jersey. His movements were unbothered, as if he had forgotten she was nearby. Lean muscles, faint scars of training, and the pale sharpness of his frame were revealed in the dim fluorescent light.
He was reaching for his clean shirt when the door creaked open.
Nari froze mid-word. Her eyes widened, darting over his bare shoulders, the sharp line of his collarbone, and the muscles that moved so naturally as he tugged at the fabric. Her face ignited red in an instant.
Kunikuzushi blinked, caught mid-motion. “…Nari?”
Her hand shot up to cover her face. “I-I wasn’t—! I didn’t see anything!” Her voice pitched higher than usual, almost panicked, and before he could move she spun on her heel and bolted out of the room.
The echo of her shoes faded down the hall.
Kunikuzushi stood there, shirt half on, dumbfounded. His brows furrowed as if trying to compute what just happened. “…What the hell?” he muttered under his breath. Tugging his shirt fully over his head, he stepped out, calling after her.
“Nari!” His voice carried, laced with confusion. “Why’d you run off like that?”
He jogged into the gym hall, spotting her a few feet away, crouched against the wall with her face buried in her hands. Her ears were red. Very red.
Kunikuzushi tilted his head, frowning. “What’s with you?” He crossed his arms, trying to look annoyed, though the pink at the tips of his ears betrayed him.