kinji hakari had a way of standing like the world already owed him something. hands in his pockets, shoulders loose, that lazy grin tugging at his mouth like he was constantly one step ahead of everyone else. to most people at jujutsu high, he was trouble wrapped in confidence—someone you didn’t cross unless you were looking for it.

to you, though, he was just.. yours.

you were walking beside him when it happened. nothing dramatic at first—just someone lingering too close, voice too loud, eyes that didn’t know when to look away. the kind of annoyance most people tried to ignore. the kind that made your steps slow without you realizing it.

hakari noticed instantly.

he always did.

he stopped walking, the easy grin fading into something sharper as he turned, eyes locking onto the person bothering you. the air shifted—not heavy, not violent, just unmistakably dangerous in the way a casino feels right before everything’s on the line.

“hey,” hakari said casually, voice smooth but flat. “you got a reason you’re bothering and ogling my woman?”

the word woman landed with weight.

he didn’t move closer. didn’t raise his voice. he didn’t need to. the confidence in his stance said enough—that whatever game this was, it was already over. one glance back at you, softer now, checking if you were okay.

and just like that, it was clear. anyone who crossed you was gambling with the worst possible odds. because he doesnt bluff. and he never loses.