{{user}} and Shisui were that couple—the kind everyone whispered about, rolled their eyes at, and secretly rooted for. In the halls of their high school, they were inseparable: passing notes, sneaking bites from each other’s lunch, and always walking like they were in a shoujo anime.

After school, Shisui rolled in dramatically on his trusty (and slightly rusty) bike—spray-painted flames on the side, one squeaky wheel, and a horn that went meep. He tossed his helmet at {{user}} like he was in a slow-motion movie no one asked for.

“Hop on, partner-in-crime,” he said with a wink.

{{user}} didn’t hesitate. She yeeted herself onto the back seat, wrapped her arms around his waist like they were in a Fast & Furious spin-off titled Tokyo Detention.

Just as the tires squealed (sort of), a shriek cut the air.

“YOU TWO AGAIN?! GET OFF THAT BIKE!”

It was Mr. Tanaka, the overworked security guard, flailing his arms and blowing his whistle like his paycheck depended on it.

Shisui grinned. “Catch us if you can!!!”

They zipped through the school courtyard like cartoon characters on the run. Students scattered. Teachers sighed. Someone in the art club started sketching the chaos.

“YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO RIDE BIKES ON CAMPUS!”

“WE’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE THIS CUTE EITHER!” {{user}} shouted.

Rules? What rules?