In the heart of Tokyo, Hiro Takashi stood as the undisputed center of attention at a high-end club. His blonde hair and striking blue eyes, illuminated by the club's neon lights, drew admiring glances from every corner. At just 16, his reputation as a boxing prodigy had already made him a celebrity, and he reveled in the fame and adulation.
Surrounded by a crowd of young women who chanted his name, Hiro felt invincible. With a confident grin and a glass raised high, he addressed his fans. "As Japan's champion, it's only right that I treat you all well," he said, his voice resonating above the pulsating music.
The crowd responded with cheers and laughter, completely enraptured by him. Emboldened, Hiro added with a mischievous smile, "And when I'm the world champion, I'll make sure to include each of you in my harem of a hundred." The promise was extravagant and insincere, but it only fueled the crowd's excitement.
Amidst the adoration and celebration, Hiro couldn't shake off a lingering sense of emptiness, a yearning for something more profound and authentic. Unbeknownst to him, a twist of fate lay just around the corner, ready to challenge not just his physical prowess but his entire understanding of the world.
The club's atmosphere was electric, buzzing with energy and admiration for Hiro. As he basked in the glow of the party, a group of girls, all vying for his attention, leaned in closer. One of them, a young woman with bright eyes, asked eagerly, "Hiro, when's your big fight for the world championship?"
Hiro's smile didn't waver, but his eyes held a hint of impatience. "It's still too early," he replied smoothly. "No champion wants to risk their title against a 16-year-old kid." His words were laced with a mix of pride and a touch of bitterness.
The girls around him cooed in sympathy, their voices blending into a chorus of admiration. "You're just too good, Hiro," one said. Another added, "They're just scared to face the Golden Boy." The nicknames they bestowed upon him, 'The Golden Boy' and 'The Lightning of Tokyo,' were spoken with a mixture of awe and affection.
Hiro soaked in the praise, feeling a surge of confidence. These titles, these acknowledgments of his skill in the ring, they were his to own. Yet, deep down, he knew these were just words, hollow without the world title he so desperately craved. For now, though, he allowed himself to be lost in the moment, surrounded by admirers in a world where he was already a champion.
As the party continued, Hiro's gaze drifted across the sea of people. Amidst the crowd, a figure caught his eye – a girl with striking green hair tied back in a ponytail, her bangs framing her face. She wore round glasses that gave her an air of mystery. There was something about her that stood out in the midst of the club's typical revelry.
Curiosity piqued, Hiro excused himself from his group of admirers and made his way through the crowd. As he approached, the green-haired girl slipped through a door, seemingly unnoticed by the others. Hiro followed, finding himself in a narrow hallway leading to a staircase.
He quickened his pace and caught up to her on the stairs. "Hey, I'm Hiro Takashi," he said with his usual confident smile. "You probably already know who I am."
The girl paused and turned to face him. She looked at Hiro with a level of indifference that he was unaccustomed to. "Not really," she replied, her voice calm and devoid of the awe he usually received.
Hiro was taken aback. It was rare for someone, especially someone at his own party, not to recognize him. He studied her face, trying to gauge if she was playing coy. But there was no hint of recognition in her eyes, just a straightforward, almost challenging gaze.
Intrigued and slightly unsettled by this unusual encounter, Hiro found himself wanting to know more about this mysterious girl who seemed so different from everyone else at the party.
Hiro, intrigued by the girl who stood out amidst the revelry, decided to try his usual charm. Leaning casually against the railing, he said, "You seem different from everyone else here. What brings you to this party?"
The girl, her green hair reflecting the dim light of the stairwell, looked at Hiro with a neutral expression. "I'm here with a friend, that's all," she replied, her tone implying she was uninterested in the party's host.
Hiro, not deterred by her lack of interest, continued, "Well, since you're here, you might as well enjoy the company." He flashed a smile, one that usually won over everyone.
She raised an eyebrow, a slight smile tugging at her lips. "Persistent, aren't you?" she noted, a hint of amusement in her voice.
Seeing a glimmer of engagement, Hiro extended his hand. "I didn't catch your name."
After a brief pause, she shook his hand. "Maki," she said. "Maki Zenin."
"Maki Zenin," Hiro repeated, finding himself more intrigued. "I'm Hiro Takashi."
The introduction hung in the air between them, Maki seemingly unaware of Hiro's status as a celebrated boxer. Hiro found this refreshing and was drawn to her even more, intrigued by her indifference to his fame.
Hiro's repetition of her name seemed to amuse Maki, if only slightly. "You must like your own name if you say it twice," she quipped, a faint smirk appearing on her lips.
"Of course, I do," Hiro replied with a grin. "It's a beautiful name, just like me."
Maki rolled her eyes at his response, her amusement clear. "You're not short on confidence, are you?"
Hiro leaned in closer, his curiosity about this unimpressed girl growing. "So, you really have no idea who I am?" he asked, a mix of disbelief and intrigue in his voice.
Maki studied him for a moment, her gaze scrutinizing. Then, recognition dawned on her face, but not the kind Hiro was expecting. "Ah, you're that guy," she said, a hint of laughter in her voice. "The one from the diarrhea commercial, right?"
Hiro's confident demeanor faltered for a second. That commercial was one of his first gigs, something he did before his boxing career took off. It wasn't something he expected to be recognized for, especially not here. "You saw that?" he asked, a mix of embarrassment and surprise in his voice.
"Yeah, it was hard to miss," Maki replied, her amusement evident. "It was on every channel for a while."
Hiro, recovering from his initial shock, laughed. "Well, that's one way to remember me," he said, shaking his head. "But I've done a lot more than just... that."
Maki's expression softened slightly. "I'm sure you have," she conceded. "But that's my most vivid memory of you, Hiro Takashi."
As the party's music and laughter echoed in the background, Hiro, feeling a rush of boldness, gently placed his hand on Maki's shoulder. "How about we get away from this party? Maybe grab a drink somewhere quieter?" he suggested, hoping to extend their unexpected encounter.
Without missing a beat, Maki swiftly grabbed his hand, twisting it in a smooth motion that sent Hiro tumbling to the floor. Hiro, sprawled on the ground, looked up at her in utter disbelief. How had a girl, seemingly so unassuming, just floored a champion boxer?
Maki stood over him, a smirk playing on her lips. "Easy there, Golden Boy," she said teasingly. "You're moving a bit too fast."
Hiro couldn't help but smile as he heard his nickname. "So, you do know who I am," he said, trying to mask his surprise.
Maki shrugged nonchalantly. "There's a huge banner with 'The Golden Boy' on it at your party. It wasn't hard to put two and two together," she explained, her tone matter-of-fact.
As Hiro got back on his feet, Maki began to ascend the stairs. He watched her for a moment before calling out, "Will I see you again?"
Maki paused, then looked over her shoulder with a faint smile. "Honestly, I hope not," she replied, her voice laced with a hint of playfulness.
Her response left Hiro standing in the stairwell, a mix of amusement and intrigue on his face. Maki Zenin was unlike anyone he had ever met, and despite her words, Hiro couldn't help but hope their paths would cross again.
Hiro made his way back to the party, his mind still replaying the encounter with Maki. The music and chatter seemed to fade into the background as he approached Shiru, his loyal servant who stood like a silent sentinel by the door.
"Shiru," Hiro began, his tone a mix of curiosity and command, "check the guest list and the entry log for a Maki Zenin."
Shiru, ever the stoic aide, opened his eyes and nodded. He moved to a discreet corner where the lists were kept and began to scan through them meticulously.
After a few moments, Shiru returned, his expression unchanged. "There is no Maki Zenin on the guest list or the entry log, sir," he reported in a calm, even tone.
Hiro frowned, his intrigue deepening. "Are you sure? She was here. Green hair, glasses, hard to miss."
Shiru nodded. "I am certain, sir. There is no record of her. It's possible she entered with someone else, or perhaps under a different name."
Hiro leaned against a wall, his mind racing. "She's a mystery," he mused aloud. "Not on the list, and she floors me like it's nothing. Who is she, Shiru?"
Shiru, maintaining his composure, replied, "It's not uncommon for people to use aliases, especially in gatherings like these. If she wanted to remain unnoticed, she succeeded."
Hiro's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Keep an eye out for her, Shiru. I want to know more about her."
Shiru nodded, his voice steady as ever. "As you wish, sir. If she reappears, I'll inform you immediately."
Hiro's interest in Maki Zenin had only grown. She was a puzzle he was determined to solve. For now, though, he turned back to the party, the music and laughter slowly pulling him back into the moment. But in the back of his mind, Maki's image lingered, intriguing and elusive.
Several days later, Maki Zenin strolled through the hallways of the Jujutsu High School, her mind preoccupied. She entered the common room where Panda and Inumaki were lounging, their eyes fixed on the television screen.
Maki picked up her cellphone, which she had left there earlier. As she was about to leave, a commercial on the TV caught her attention. It was a hair wax advertisement featuring none other than Hiro Takashi. He was striking a pose, his hair styled perfectly, and with a confident smile, he said, "For a champion's look, choose the best. Stay sharp, stay sleek, stay strong."
Maki paused and watched for a moment before turning to Panda and Inumaki. "Looks like he really is famous," she remarked, a hint of amusement in her voice.
Panda, who was half-watching the commercial, looked up at Maki. "Do you know Hiro Takashi?" he asked, his curiosity piqued.
"Not really," Maki replied nonchalantly. "I met him at a party a few days ago. Didn't even know he was a boxer."
Inumaki, munching on a snack, uttered one of his usual rice ball phrases, which Maki interpreted as a question about Hiro.
"He seemed full of himself, but there's something interesting about him," Maki mused, reflecting on their encounter. "He's not just a pretty face, I guess."
Panda nodded, his interest evident. "He's quite a sensation in the boxing world. A prodigy, they say."
Maki shrugged. "Prodigy or not, he's got a way to go. He tried to charm me and ended up on the floor."
Panda laughed, while Inumaki gave a quizzical look. "Long story," Maki said with a smile. "Let's just say he's not as smooth as he thinks."
Panda, always one for playful banter, chimed in with a mischievous grin. "Hey, Maki, if you become his girlfriend, maybe you can score us some tickets to his fights."
Maki scowled at the suggestion. "I can't stand the guy," she retorted. "His whole 'I'm the best' act is amusing, but I'd never even consider that."
"Please, Maki," Panda pleaded half-jokingly. "I'm a huge fan of his."
Inumaki, still focused on the TV, chimed in with his unique way of speaking, "Tuna with mayonnaise."
Maki, without missing a beat, lightly smacked Panda on the head. "Stop talking nonsense," she said, although a hint of laughter was in her voice.
Panda chuckled, rubbing his head. "I forgot you already have Yuta," he said with a wink.
Maki's cheeks flushed a soft pink. She clicked her tongue and shot back, "Don't say silly things."