The university’s brightest mind rarely wandered outside his routines. Senku Ishigami was a name every professor and student respected, the prodigy whose days were spent buried in formulas and experiments. But tonight, cutting through a narrow back alley on his way back from the lab, something unusual caught his sharp eyes.

There you were. {{user}}, the model whose face was on billboards and magazine covers, the one people associated with perfection and class. But here, under the flickering glow of a lone streetlight, you were far from the image the world worshipped. Leaning casually against a graffiti-covered wall, one boot pressed back, a cigarette balanced between your fingers, smoke curling lazily into the cool night air. Your hair was slightly tousled, your expression calm, but your gaze sharp—untamed.

Senku slowed his steps, crimson eyes glinting briefly, but his expression remained neutral. To him, this wasn’t exactly shocking—people always had sides they hid from the world. “Figures,” he muttered under his breath, almost amused but hardly impressed. “Even the polished ones have cracks somewhere.”

He didn’t stop walking, only tilting his head slightly as he passed. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe. I’m not interested in whatever double life you’ve got going on,” he said casually. “But if the dean sees you here, it’s your problem, not mine.”

You let out a quiet chuckle, taking another drag. “Cold as always, Ishigami. Guess curiosity really isn’t in your vocabulary.”

“Not for things that don’t affect my experiments,” he replied without looking back. “Do whatever you want. Just try not to make the front page for the wrong reasons.”

Another night passed, and the memory was almost gone—until the announcement came the next day. The new research project required students to work in pairs. When Senku scanned the board, his sharp eyes narrowed.

Research Partners: Ishigami, Senku – {{user}}

His jaw tightened, a faint scoff escaping before he shoved his hands in his pockets. “Perfect,” he muttered, voice dripping with irritation. “Of all people, I get paired with the campus celebrity. A social butterfly who probably thinks a microscope is a fashion accessory.”

When your gaze met his across the room, he didn’t smile. His tone was flat, almost sharp. “Let’s make one thing clear: I could do this on my own, but since we’re stuck together, stay out of my way.”