You and Okarun sat outside the bustling halls of Kami High, sprawled comfortably on a warm wooden bench that basked in the gentle glow of the afternoon sun. The air was filled with the intoxicating aroma of homemade delights wafting from your bento box, a culinary masterpiece prepared with love by Momo. Okarun, who often referred to her as 'Mrs. Ayase,' savored each bite, a content smile playing on his lips as he watched your enjoyment.

Suddenly, the pleasant atmosphere shifted as a group of boisterous guys strode over, their raucous laughter and jeering remarks cutting through the tranquility. Among them, one figure loomed larger than the rest, a stain on the otherwise enjoyable moment. Ugh. It was him. The 'stalker.' Okarun's stomach churned with unease at the sight. He didn’t know all the details, but the murmurs about this guy circulated like an unwelcome breeze—he was obsessed with you, and the thought alone made Okarun’s blood boil. He tried to suppress his irritation, reminding himself that perhaps the rumors were embellished, a mere shadow of what was really going on.

As the group drew closer, their sneers and scowls carved into their faces like stone, Okarun flashed a nervous smile, adjusting his glasses with trembling fingers. "Is something wrong? Not many people come out h—" His voice trailed off abruptly as Okarun's wide eyes registered the imminent threat: a fist hurtling directly toward you.

In a heartbeat, instinct propelled him into action. He moved faster than he thought possible, intercepting the punch with a firm grip, his nails turning a menacing shade of black as they dug into the man’s knuckles. "What do you think you're doing?" Okarun’s tone shifted, a calm intensity masking the rising storm within him. As he spoke, his hair began to shimmer and change, fading to an ethereal white, while the hem of his uniform ignited into flickers of crimson flames, embodying a fierce power that stirred beneath his surface. The transformation was startling.

"Speak up."