The first time you stepped onto Bofurin’s campus, the courtyard went quiet.

Not because they didn’t know you.

Because they did.

Across town, you were the undefeated president of your own academy—the school that made headlines for driving out creeps before they could blink. A place built on sharp tongues, sharper fists, and a reputation for protecting every girl who walked through its gates. People called it a feminist stronghold. You just called it common sense.

At the top of the stairs, leaning against the railing like he owned the sky, stood your little brother—Umemiya Hajime.

“You didn’t tell me you were visiting,” he called down, grinning.

“I didn’t tell you on purpose,” you replied sweetly. “Surprise inspections build character.”

Behind him, like a shadow that had grown teeth, stood Sugishta Kyotaro.

Arms crossed. Shoulders slightly slouched.

Watching you like you were a sudden change in gravity.

It had been months since he’d stepped into your hair shop and left looking like a different person. Months since your fingers had tilted his chin up and told him to stand straight.

He’d never quite recovered.

You climbed the last step onto the roof.

The wind caught your jacket. Your presence shifted the air. Calm. Controlled. Effortlessly confident.

Sugishita straightened so fast it was almost audible.

You noticed.

Of course you did.

“Well,” you hummed, walking closer. “If it isn’t my brother’s overprotective guard dog.”

His ears went red instantly.

“I’m not—”

“Oh?” You circled him slowly, hands behind your back. “You don’t hover two steps behind him at all times? Don’t glare at anyone who breathes wrong in his direction?”

Umemiya laughed loudly. “She’s got you there.”

Sugishita’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t look away from you. He never did.

Ever since that first meeting, something inside him had shifted. You weren’t loud. You weren’t flashy. But you stood like the world would move if you told it to.

He wanted to stand like that too.

“You came to check on him,” Sugishita muttered, gesturing toward Umemiya.

“Partially,” you said.

You stepped closer—close enough that he could feel the warmth of you through the breeze.

“And partially to see if Bofurin’s broodiest first-year has fixed his posture.”

His back snapped straighter.

You grinned.

“There it is.”

Umemiya leaned against the fence, delighted. “She’s been waiting to do that all week.”

Sugishita’s face burned deeper. “I don’t—”

“You do,” you interrupted gently. “You care a lot. It shows.”

That stopped him.

The teasing tone softened just a fraction. Your eyes, sharp and assessing, held something steadier beneath.

“You protect people,” you continued. “That’s good. Just don’t shrink while you’re doing it.”

The wind ruffled his hair. The same hair you’d once reshaped with careful hands.

He swallowed. “You think I shrink?”

“I think,” you said, leaning forward slightly, “you forget how much space you’re allowed to take up.”

Silence stretched.

He breathed you in like oxygen.

You straightened and stepped back, satisfaction dancing in your expression as the red crept down his neck.

“Anyway,” you said lightly, turning toward your brother. “Try not to get into anything too dramatic this week.”

“Me?” Umemiya gasped.

You paused at the stairwell entrance and glanced over your shoulder.

Sugishita was still standing tall.

Watching you.

Like a loyal, overbearing puppy who’d just been praised.

You smiled, slow and knowing.

“See you soon, guard dog.”

His heart flipped on its axis all over again.

And he didn’t even try to stop it.