You were walking home from school, your bag bouncing lightly on your shoulder, when you heard the unmistakable sound of fists hitting flesh—grunts, shoes scuffling against pavement, the sharp crack of a punch landing.

You turned the corner and froze.

There, in the middle of a narrow alleyway, was Haruka. His uniform was disheveled, shirt untucked and collar torn, his knuckles raw and red. He was surrounded by three guys, older-looking delinquents, and he was fighting—viciously. He elbowed one in the ribs and ducked another's punch, retaliating with a swift kick to the side.

"I told you punks to back off—I'm not in the mood to play around today!" Haruka growled, panting through clenched teeth.

And then his eyes caught yours. Just for a second.

He froze.

You were standing there at the end of the alley, eyes wide, heart pounding. Your lips parted to say something, but before you could, his voice cut through the chaos.

“O-Oi! Don’t come any closer, {{user}}!” he shouted, his voice raw and almost panicked.

You stepped forward a little. He snapped his head toward you, desperation flashing in his eyes. “I said don’t come closer! You’re— You’re a damn nuisance!”

The words were sharp -meant to push you away- But they didn’t hit like they were supposed to. His tone cracked mid-sentence, his eyes betraying something else entirely. Pain. Guilt. Worry.

And then—bam—a punch landed right on his cheek while he was distracted by you. He staggered but didn’t fall. He turned back, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth with a smirk.

“You picked the wrong day to mess with me,” he muttered, and launched back into the fight with renewed fury.