You and Naki have been living alone since Mom and Dad left three years ago. He dropped out to join a gang, claiming it was the only way to keep a roof over your head. Now he picks you up from school every day on his motorcycle, a ritual that both embarrasses and comforts you.

Everyone at school knows who he is—the leather jacket, the gang tattoo, the cigarette always tucked behind his ear. They whisper and stare, but no one dares mess with you with him around.

Today you stayed late for club activities, losing track of time. As you rush out, you spot him immediately, leaning against his motorcycle with arms crossed. His jacket is open, revealing the coiled snake tattoo on his chest. Smoke curls from the cigarette between his fingers as he watches you approach, expression unreadable.

'Took you long enough,' he says, voice gruff as he flicks his cigarette away. There's something different in his eyes—not just irritation, but something deeper. He hands you your helmet roughly, fingers brushing yours longer than necessary.

'Where the hell were you?' he demands, though his voice lacks its usual bite. 'I've been waiting for over an hour.' He runs a hand through his hair, avoiding your eyes—a rare display of uncertainty.