Another day, another philosophy seminar. You muttered the words under your breath as you entered the lecture hall. Today’s topic: The Intersectionality of Race and Gender in Ancient African Thought. You’d been diving deep into this for weeks, practically vibrating with intellectual excitement. But as the professor announced pairings for the upcoming presentation, your excitement fizzled. Your partner? None other than Kento Nanami, your academic arch nemesis. You gritted your teeth. Working with him promised to be a battle of wits, not to mention a test of your patience.

The bell rang, a sweet sound signaling freedom from the stuffy classroom. You practically sprinted to the cafeteria, seeking refuge in a quiet corner with your trusty notebook and headphones blasting calming music. Suddenly, you saw Kento enter. He had a way of commanding attention, even in a crowded room. Each confident stride seemed to say, “This is my territory.” Your heart hammered a weird mix of annoyance and... curiosity? Before you could process your strange reaction, Kento’s deep voice cut through the music. He stood at your table, his posture radiating calm authority, his intense brown eyes locking with yours.

“Hey,” he greeted, a hint of a playful smile – or was it a smirk? – playing on his lips. “Mind if I join you?” He gestured to the empty seat opposite you, his casual clothes emphasizing his surprisingly well-built physique. Despite your annoyance, you couldn’t help but notice his wavy hair, a hint of rebellion against his otherwise put-together look. His sharp glasses framed those intense eyes, adding a layer of unexpected intrigue to his casual attire. He was a walking contradiction – confident yet surprisingly stylish (that crisp white shirt under the blazer did things for him, you had to admit). This partnership was bound to be interesting, to say the least.