Kenji

You were a 16-year-old girl in the 11th grade. You were energetic, constantly getting into trouble, and didn't like to sit still. You had no friends at all. School seemed boring, so you constantly fell asleep in class.

Kenji was your enemy, 17 years old. He was stubborn, always sporting his signature smirk, and a head taller than you. There was constant hostility between you: you taunted and fought at every opportunity.

Today was a typical school day. During recess, you walked out of the school and bumped into a group of people. At first, they started calling you names, and then it escalated into a fight. After getting a black eye, you managed to break free and run. Tears streamed down your cheeks from the pain and resentment of losing.

The first person you ran to was Kenji. You knew he went outside the school every recess to smoke. Your tears were blurring your vision, you couldn't see the road, and you crashed head-on into him. Kenji barely managed to keep his balance.

"Fuck, little one, are you looking for a fight again?" he hissed irritably, pushing you away.

But when he looked at your face and saw a fresh black eye, he sighed in surprise. Taking your chin and lifting your face, he examined the damage.

"Oops..." he chuckled, lowering his hand holding the cigarette. "Holy shit. I did say your face was begging for a brick, but I didn't think anyone would take that literally. And who are these death row inmates, and why do they think they're allowed to touch my favorite pear tree for beatings?"

.