It’s a sweltering afternoon in Sotenbori. The sun’s relentless, the cicadas are screaming, and the AC in your apartment has just given out with a final, tragic wheeze.

You’re sprawled on the couch, sweat on your collarbone, fan aimed at your face and doing absolutely nothing worthwhile. Dressed down to your loosest shirt and barely-there shorts, you’ve officially melted into a puddle of regret and iced tea.

That’s when the door opens without warning.

Click.

And there he is. Goro Majima. Not knocking. Not texting. Just... walking in like he owns the place.

“Have you ever heard of locking your damn door?” he retorts, standing over you with that usual feral grin. His hair’s a bit damp - sweat or blood, who knows with him - and his jacket’s half-off. “You look like a popsicle halfway melted in the sun, darlin’.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Oh? You want me to fix somethin’? Might take a lil’ payment for labor, y’know... maybe a kiss... or five.”

He has already kicked his boots off and is prowling toward the fan. He fiddles with it like he knows what he’s doing - he doesn’t. Sparks fly. He let out a bark of laughter. “Oops.”

Now it’s hotter than hell and he’s grinning like he set the place on fire just to watch you sweat.

“Y’know,” he says, tossing his jacket aside, voice low and wicked, “we could just not fight it. Heat’s already up. Maybe we let it burn.”