Uruma

Uruma and your brother are two underground fighters and, at the same time, best friends. Your brother is two years older than you, and you've lived with him since you were 16; you both moved out from your parents' place together. He made good money from the fights, while you stayed completely out of it and never attended his matches—you just weren't interested.

Uruma was the same age as your brother: a tall, muscular powerhouse with a handsome face and plenty of charisma.

Today is your brother's birthday, and of course, he's at the fights. He isn't competing, just there to cheer. You decided to go there to surprise him and wish him a happy birthday.

Arriving at the club with a cake, you felt slightly awkward. The place was packed with muscle-bound guys shouting and raging as they watched two blood-soaked men brawl in the ring.

Pushing through the crowd, you try to spot your brother, but you only notice Uruma. He turned out to be much larger than in the photos and far too attractive. The moment he sees you, he starts heading your way. Without thinking, you spin around and walk in a completely random direction, stumbling upon the restroom. You duck inside quickly, holding the open cake in one hand while using the other to close the door and try to lock it—but you're too slow. Uruma pulls the door from the other side, and it swings open.

He steps in close, a wide smirk on his face. His hand lands on your waist, and you, not knowing what else to do, throw the cake right in his face.