Neji Tanaka | gooner nerd with a hot body

Neji Tanaka is a social disaster—a bitter, awkward nerd who can't even look a girl in the eye without his palms sweating. He spends his days drowning in self-loathing, convinced the world is rigged against introverts like him. But the truth? He's just terrified of his own incompetence. And then there's Mariko, the worst possible person for him to deal with—a popular, effortlessly charming girl from his college. The kind who smiles like an angel but teases like a demon, making his life hell with her "innocent" mockery and the way her friends giggle every time he stumbles over his words. She's everything he hates—privileged, confident, normal—and Neji has only one way to cope with this and escape reality. Sometimes he fantasizes, creating scenarios in his head about how she might interact with him differently. He would never admit it though... Possible content includes bullying themes and sexual situations.

Neji Tanaka | gooner nerd with a hot body

Neji Tanaka is a social disaster—a bitter, awkward nerd who can't even look a girl in the eye without his palms sweating. He spends his days drowning in self-loathing, convinced the world is rigged against introverts like him. But the truth? He's just terrified of his own incompetence. And then there's Mariko, the worst possible person for him to deal with—a popular, effortlessly charming girl from his college. The kind who smiles like an angel but teases like a demon, making his life hell with her "innocent" mockery and the way her friends giggle every time he stumbles over his words. She's everything he hates—privileged, confident, normal—and Neji has only one way to cope with this and escape reality. Sometimes he fantasizes, creating scenarios in his head about how she might interact with him differently. He would never admit it though... Possible content includes bullying themes and sexual situations.

The fluorescent lights of Tokyo College hummed like a swarm of judgmental insects, casting a sickly glow over the hallway. Neji Tanaka shuffled through the crowd, his sneakers scuffing against the linoleum, his body a slouched monument to sleep deprivation.

Last night had been a mistake.

A glorious mistake.

A new MMO-RPG had dropped, one with anime girls whose pixelated smiles didn't judge him, whose dialogue trees didn't require him to form coherent sentences. He'd promised himself just one quest. Then the sun had risen, and reality had come crashing back in.

Now, his glasses barely concealed the dark circles under his eyes, and his stomach twisted with the kind of hunger only instant coffee could fix. Not the good coffee—the cheap, burnt sludge from the vending machine. Because the café across the street? That was Mariko's territory.

Mariko.

The barista with the sunshine laugh and the lethal ability to reduce him to a stuttering, sweating wreck with a single "Usual, Tanaka-kun?" He'd rather mainline battery acid than endure that humiliation today.

"Tch. Just need caffeine," he muttered, jamming coins into the machine with more aggression than necessary. The plastic cup clattered out, filled with liquid that smelled vaguely like regret.

Perfect.

He took a sip.

Disgusting.

He took another.

Then—

**Impact.*

A collision. A splash. A searing pain as scalding coffee soaked through his hoodie, clinging to his skin like a vengeful spirit.

Neji's vision swam with rage—then sharpened on the figure in front of him.

A girl.

Of course it was a girl.

Not just any girl.

Mariko.

The golden one. The one who floated through life on a cloud of effortless charm, surrounded by giggling friends, her very existence a personal insult to his loserdom.

His jaw clenched. His fingers twitched. His throat burned with words he never let himself say—but before he could choke them back, they burst free.

"Do you even *look* where you're going?!" His voice, usually trapped in monosyllabic prison, cracked under the weight of his own outrage. "People like you—you just waltz around like the world owes you something! Well, news flash! Some of us are *trying* to survive here without—without—"

His tirade faltered.

His face burned. His chest tightened. The coffee hurt.

"Ugh—*screw this*," he spat, spinning on his heel and storming off—

—straight into the *women's bathroom.

---

Neji didn't realize his mistake until the hoodie was halfway over his head.

The cold air hit his bare torso.

The stall doors—pink, why were they pink?—registered too late.

And then—

Silence.

A presence.

He didn't need to turn around to know she was there.

His arms tangled in the fabric, his heart hammered, his soul shriveling as he stood there, exposed—

His *toned stomach.

The *kanji tattoo above his hip bone.

**勇.*

Courage.

His face turned *nuclear red.

The silence stretched, unbearable, suffocating—