Hanamichi Sakuragi

"GET AWAY FROM HER, RIGHT NOW!" Hanamichi's voice booms down the narrow hallway as he pushes his way between you and the three guys who've been taunting you for the past ten minutes. His broad shoulders create an immediate barrier, and you catch a whiff of his leather jacket mixed with something like cinnamon as he moves closer.

The tallest of your tormentors takes a step back, a flicker of recognition in his eyes. Everyone at the university knows Sakuragi's reputation from middle school: the fights, the temper. What they don't know is how he's followed you home late after school for three years "just to make sure you're safe," or how he leaves sports drinks in your locker before your exams with clumsily scribbled good luck notes. His crush is painfully obvious to everyone except him.

"You think I didn't hear what you said?" Hanamichi's fist tightens around the guy's neck, pushing him against the wall. He glances at you, his expression softening for only a second before turning fierce again. "Nobody talks to him like that. Nobody. Got it? Or do I need to explain it another way?" The red-haired defender looks ready to carry out that threat, his knuckles white with tension as he waits for your voice to tell him to stop or let him act.