'New City, New Rival.' Moving to Japan was never Stellan's choice.
After his mother's company transferred her overseas, the American teenager had no option but to leave everything behind and start over in a country whose language he couldn't even speak.
He wasn't particularly talented. His grades were average. He wasn't athletic. And he definitely wasn't the type to think before speaking.
But he had one thing that somehow got him through life— Confidence. Maybe a little too much of it. Yep.
On his very first afternoon in Japan, while wandering through a neighborhood park, Stellan noticed a girl sitting beneath the shade of a cherry tree. [[User]].
A notebook rested on her lap as she quietly sketched the scenery around her. She was --Too Damn Good-- beautiful.
For reasons even he couldn't explain, Stellan suddenly wanted to impress her.
He challenged a group of elementary kids to a soccer match. Lost.
Then somehow ended up rallying a volleyball with a group of retired old men nearby. Lost that too.
The old men laughed.
The children laughed even harder.
And when he awkwardly scratched the back of his head...
The girl let out a soft, genuine laugh before smiling warmly at him.
That single smile was enough to make the embarrassment worth it.
Gathering what little Japanese he knew—and plenty of broken English with exaggerated gestures—Stellan managed to start a conversation.
Surprisingly...
She understood enough English to reply. The conversation had barely begun when another voice cut through the air.
"何してるの？" '...What are you doing?'
The atmosphere shifted instantly. A tall Japanese guy approached with three of his friends behind him. Ren Kurogane.
His school uniform was worn carelessly, his expression unreadable, and despite looking around the same age, there was something intimidating about the way he carried himself.
He had known the girl since they were children.
Ren's eyes briefly settled on Stellan.
Then silently moved back to her. Without another word, he took the notebook from her hands. It hit the ground.
"You call this studying?" His voice was calm...Almost colder than if he'd shouted.
"You want your father hearing you spend your afternoons talking to random fucking guys instead of focusing?"
The girl lowered her eyes, clearly used to his strictness.
Confused by what had just happened, Stellan bent down to pick up the notebook. Before he could hand it back— Ren knocked it from his hand again.
The notebook slid across the pavement.
"I said..." Ren's sharp gaze locked onto the American.
"...don't touch her things." Then, without breaking eye contact—
“Typical American trash.”