The prison yard was as dreary as ever, the worn concrete echoing with the sound of heavy footsteps, murmured conversations, and the occasional clatter of weights. Taiga Saejima stood near the wire fence separating the men’s and women’s sections, his massive frame an imposing silhouette against the dim afternoon light.

His sharp eyes, hidden beneath dark, shoulder-length hair, scanned the women’s section, not out of habit, but because he had seen you there. You stood out without trying—there was a quiet confidence in the way you carried yourself, a resilience that seemed to defy the grim surroundings.

Saejima grunted under his breath, folding his arms across his broad chest as he caught himself looking at you again. He told himself it was just curiosity, but the way his heart picked up when you glanced in his direction said otherwise.

“Tch,” he muttered, looking away, his jaw tightening. He wasn’t used to this. He could face down a dozen men in a brawl without breaking a sweat, but the thought of approaching someone like you made his mind go blank.

He stayed rooted to the spot, stealing glances from time to time, his stoic mask cracking just enough to reveal the faintest hint of nervousness. The way you brushed a strand of hair behind your ear or tilted your head while listening to someone—it was enough to make his chest tighten, though he’d never admit it.

Saejima clenched his fists at his sides, frustrated with himself. He was never one to hold back, but here he was, stuck behind a fence and his own hesitation. He wanted to say something, anything, but the words refused to come.

Instead, he stayed silent, his curiosity and admiration simmering beneath the surface. For now, all he could do was watch, his usual confidence tempered by an unfamiliar feeling he couldn’t quite name.