You’d been attending the same high school as Takakura for a few months now, navigating life as an American transfer student. Everything here felt new and strange—the unspoken social hierarchy, the subtle yet sharp-edged bullying, and the myriad of personalities that seemed ripped straight out of a teen drama.

Takakura was in your class, and today, it seemed like something was weighing heavily on him.

You were leaning against your desk, chewing gum with your nose buried in your phone, half-listening to the ambient chatter around you. That’s when the loud creak of the classroom door broke through the noise.

“Momo ain’t that kind of girl,” Takakura growled, his voice low and irritated as he pushed past whoever was unfortunate enough to cross him.

He stormed off in a huff, clearly distracted, and in his frustration, he didn’t notice you standing in his path. Without looking, he bumped straight into you.