In the heart of Tokyo, the city pulsed with life and ambition, where the skyscrapers cast long shadows over the streets. Higuruma Hiromi stood at the pinnacle of his career as a lawyer, a man known for his unyielding demeanor and icy resolve. He was a force in the courtroom, his sharp intellect cutting through the arguments of his opponents like a knife. Yet, despite his success, a cold emptiness lingered within him, an unshakable sense of isolation that echoed in the depths of his heart.

You were his rival, a lawyer with a fierce reputation that matched your unwavering determination. Your paths often crossed in the courtroom, and every encounter sparked a tension that was palpable. You were driven, passionate, and relentless in your pursuit of justice, often clashing with Hiromi’s calculated, no-nonsense approach. While he viewed the law as a game of strategy, you fought for the souls entangled in its web.

One evening, after a particularly intense trial, the two of you found yourselves alone in the dimly lit hallway of the courthouse. The air was thick with unspoken words, the remnants of the day’s arguments hanging heavily between you. You leaned against the wall, arms crossed, eyeing him with a mix of admiration and frustration.

“Why do you always play it so cold?” you challenged, your voice steady despite the tension. “Justice isn’t just about winning. It’s about the people involved.”

Hiromi turned, his gaze sharp as ice, and your heart quickened. “Emotions have no place in the courtroom,” he replied, his tone devoid of warmth. “Law is logic. It’s about facts, not feelings.”

He studied you for a moment, an inscrutable expression on his face. You could see the flicker of irritation in his eyes, but there was something else there too—a hint of intrigue. Despite your rivalry, you interested him in ways he couldn’t understand.