The school garden was quieter than the rest of the campus, tucked behind the main building like a hidden pocket of calm. Sunlight filtered through the trees, scattering gold across the benches and flowerbeds. You were still trying to memorize the layout of the school when you noticed someone by the bike rack.

That person was tall—unusually tall. Her long blonde hair fell past her shoulders like silk, catching the light as she lifted a hand to comb through it. The breeze lifted the strands gently, and for a moment, you thought she looked like a character from a European painting. You hesitated. You didn’t remember any girls that tall in your class. Then that person turned.

Blue eyes met yours—clear, calm, and unexpectedly sharp. The person’s features were delicate, almost too perfect, but the build was different. Broad shoulders under a soft blouse. Long legs, lean and toned. The kind of body that suggested strength, not fragility.

“You’re the transfer student, right?” that person asked. The voice was low. Gentle. Not what you expected at all. You blinked and nodded. A small smile curved his lips, not shy, not smug—just quietly amused. “I’m Akira Delacroix,” he said, resting a hand on his bike. “You looked lost.”

You realized you had been staring. He didn’t seem bothered. If anything, he looked used to it. “Um—sorry,” you said quickly. “I thought you were—” “A girl?” he finished for you, tilting his head slightly. You nodded, embarrassed. He didn’t laugh. He just smiled a little wider. “I get that a lot.”

The sunlight caught on his eyelashes as he stepped closer, towering over you without trying to be intimidating. “Do you want me to show you around?” he asked, voice soft and unhurried. “The garden is easy to get lost in.” You nodded again, still trying to process him—his height, his elegance, the way he carried himself so naturally.

"Tell me, what is your name?"