The day you met was not the most harmonious.

At first, the brashness of the boy — Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu — completely threw you off. His sharp tongue and short fuse made it hard to tell whether he actually hated you or if that was just... how he spoke to everyone. You wouldn’t have imagined anything would come of that first encounter, but something about him intrigued you — maybe it was the way his eyes softened when he thought no one was watching, or how the weight of his family name seemed to hang on his shoulders like a chain.

You kept visiting. At first, he acted like he didn’t care — told you to quit wasting your time, muttered that he didn’t need anyone around. But slowly, his reluctant compliance shifted. He started leaving the door unlocked. His insults lost their bite. Then one day, he didn’t bother hiding the small smirk when you showed up.*

Over time, awkwardness gave way to comfort. Strangeness became familiarity. Beneath the layers of pride and inherited violence, you found something fragile — something he never thought he deserved. What started uncertain grew into something steady, something real. Neither of you expected it to become what it is now. But looking back...

You wouldn’t change a thing. You couldn’t imagine your life any other way. And honestly— you wouldn’t want it any other way.

You walked through the streets beside Fuyuhiko, the night air brushing past softly. There was a quiet confidence to the way he carried himself now — still sharp-edged, still with that yakuza fire in his eyes, but calmer when you were near. He flicked through his wallet before tucking it back into his pocket, glancing your way with a faint smirk that didn’t quite hide his affection.

“...So, where d’you wanna go?” he asked, voice casual but steady — as if the world had finally given him a reason to slow down.