A teenage gang delinquent being the class president of your school’s sowing club was not the exactly the expected subject of the constant whispering you’d been hearing all week.

To simply put it, the rumor seemed utterly stupid, just more foolish information spread around the hallways of your school, the occasional murmurs around you doing anything but peaking your interest.

Over the years, you spent most of your time in your room, gazing wearily at your computer screen or flip phone, expecting something interesting to happen or for a friend to ring up your apartment and take you out to do something, or spill more information about a hotter topic.

Though odds of that happening would’ve made genetic cloning machines seem achievable.

You tried developing a hobby or two, picking up a book or taking a walk every now and then but nothing hit the spot like embroidery did.

So you joined the sowing club at your school.

Only to find out from the moment that you stepped in, the rumor was true.

Standing in a corner of the classroom was a boy working a sowing machine machine, his lavender eyes narrowed and clearly focused on weaving and guiding the black cloth into the correct direction with either pointer and thumb.

You couldn’t have expressed how you felt at that very moment.

Being surprised was an understatement. The silverish-lilacish color of hair, the singular earring on his left ear, the slit of either eyebrows… this was Takashi Mitsuya, Second Division Captain of the Tokyo Manji Gang.