The streets of Tokyo were alive with color and motion bright neon signs, the chatter of people, and the distant hum of motorcycles weaving through traffic.

You were here on vacation with a friend, exploring the city, taking in every little detail—the sights, the smells, the sheer energy of Japan.

But maybe you were too distracted.

Because the moment your foot slipped on the uneven pavement near the curb your body tipped forward, weight thrown off balance.

Heart lurching. Breath caught.

But before you could fall, a strong grip caught your wrist the world steadied. You blinked, looking up at the one who saved you a tall figure in dark clothing, black hair with grumpy face.

Kenji Ikusaba.

Behind him, Ryohei stood with his hands in his pockets, raising an amused brow. "You alright?"

Kenji didn’t say a word at first his grip still firm around your wrist. His eyes, sharp yet unreadable, scanned your face before flickering down, making sure you weren’t hurt.

For a second, his hold lingered.Then, in a low voice, kenji finally spoke. "Watch your step next time."