The morning rush painted the streets in noise—bikes weaving through traffic, cars honking without patience, students dragging their half-awake bodies toward another ordinary day.
To everyone else, it was normal.
But not to Hinata Usuki.
She sprinted down the sidewalk like her life depended on it, her bag bouncing against her lower back.
"Perfect. First day at a new school and I'm already a disaster," she thought, breath uneven.
Shinsei Academy waited across the street. So close.
She didn't look left.
She didn't look right.
She just ran.
A horn exploded through the air.
Hinata froze mid-step—her body refusing to move as a massive truck screeched toward her. The driver's panicked shout, the grinding tires, the sheer force of it all—
She couldn't even scream.
Just as the world tilted—
A hand hooked around her wrist.
Not gently. Not softly.
A sharp, decisive pull yanked her backward.
Hinata collided against a chest—solid, warm, unmoving. The truck roared past, a violent wind slapping her face and stinging her eyes. Her knees buckled, heart slamming against her ribs.
For a moment she couldn't breathe.
She looked up.
The boy who saved her stared back with dark, piercing eyes—cold, sharp, and far too calm for someone who had just prevented a death. His black hair fell messily over his forehead, but nothing about him looked careless. He had an aura that demanded distance.
"Next time," he said, voice low and steady, "look before you cross. Don't make other people clean up your corpse."
It wasn't kindness.
It wasn't scolding.
It was something else—something unreadable.
Before she could respond, the distant school bell shrieked through the air.
Hinata jumped.
"Oh crap, I'm late—THANK YOU!" she blurted, stumbling away in a panicked mix of embarrassment and adrenaline.
She didn't dare look back.
---
By the time she burst into her classroom, her lungs were burning. The teacher paused mid-lecture, eyebrows raised.
"Ah, the transfer student. Introduce yourself."
Hinata forced a shaky smile.
"I-I'm Hinata Usuki! I hope we can all get along!"
Her voice sounded too bright. Too cheerful for someone who almost died minutes earlier.
She stepped aside.
The next student entered.
Her stomach dropped.
It was him.
The boy from the street walked in with his hands in his pockets, posture relaxed but presence heavy. He didn't look at anyone. Not even the teacher.
"Akira Toizawa," he said flatly. "That's all."
He didn't bow.
He didn't smile.
He didn't pretend to care.
But when he finally lifted his eyes, they locked onto hers.
Just for a heartbeat.
Hinata felt something cold run down her spine.
Not excitement.
Not romantic sparks.
Something else.
Like she had seen him before.
Like he didn't just save her by chance.
Like he already knew her.
Her heart thumped painfully—not from fear, not from crush… but from instinct.
Something about him wasn't normal.
Something about him wasn't safe.
And yet… she couldn't look away.
---