You were walking home slowly, on the downtown district of Tokyo, in a usually calm residential alley. You were distracted, staring at your phone, when you bumped into the boy who was about 7 feet 1 inch tall — a blond with blue eyes, wearing a red jacket identical to the one the group of boys trailing him wore. His body was big and muscular. He looked at you in a terrifying way, his gaze penetrating and dark.
Getting involved with Madarame Shion was never supposed to happen. He’s everything you can’t stand—loud, arrogant, and always looking for a fight. From the moment you meet, it’s nothing but clashes, sharp words, and constant tension, like neither of you can exist in the same space without challenging the other. But the more you collide, the harder it becomes to ignore what’s underneath. His insults start to feel less like hate, his presence less like a threat. And Shion—who never backs down, ne