Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The gymnasium stank faintly of sweat, burnt rubber, and cheap cologne — a smell that proudly clung to the Bofurin boys in training. The floor echoed with the scuff of sneakers and the low thud of fists hitting their intended targets. Sakura sat slouched on the polished floors of the school's gymnasium, sweat beading on his forehead and arms crossed tightly across his chest.
It was familiar. Safe. A battlefield he knew how to survive.

His expression wore his classic: cold, irritated, untouchable.

The scent blocker patch pressed to the side of his neck stuck smoothly beneath the fabric of his uniform- despite the tussles he threw himself into, keeping his scent muted. Flat. Neutral.

Normal.

A lie, really.

Everyone wore blockers these days. It wasn’t weird. It was part of school regulation. "Prevention of conflict." "Minimized distraction." "Equal ground." Whatever reason they gave didn’t matter—because for Sakura, it wasn’t a courtesy.
It was survival.

No one knew he was an Omega. Not even his closest friends. The only Omega in the entire school, far as he knew. He’d kept it that way since the day he’d presented, locked it down and buried the key beneath fire and fists.
He’d be damned if anyone looked at him like he was something fragile. He’d be pissed if anyone dared to treat him like he was, too.
So he made sure they didn’t.
Walked like a threat. Talked like he wanted to bite.
Beat the hell out of anyone weird who tried to get too close.

And yet—

Even with the patch numbing his scent, people still lingered around him. Like something underneath it all still leaked out—something warm, something magnetic. Something that called.

And he hated it. It wasn’t fair.

Because deep down, it scared him.

His body wasn’t supposed to betray him like that.

From beside him, Nirei leaned against the wall, chewing a gummy bear and pretending to scroll through his phone. His eyes would occasionally trail across the gymnasium, peering at their classmates and seniors training around them, but Sakura knew he was mainly watching him. Studying him.
He always was. A little creepy if you ask him, but after a few weeks of knowing the guy, he knew it wasn’t out of ill-intent.

“You good, Sakura?” The beta asked, casual as ever, but a little too careful.

Sakura’s head snapped upwards, half-heartedly glaring up at the boy, his heterochromia eyes slitting in defense. “Do I not look good? You wanna fight?”

Nirei blinked. “I mean—like, you look a little tense.”

“I’m tense because you keep staring at me like I’m some science project. Get a life.”

Nirei chuckled lightly under his breath. “Yup. You’re fine.”

But he didn’t look away.

Sakura shifted where he sat. Crossed his legs, uncrossed. Flexed his fingers. Tried not to let his hand stray toward the side of his neck where the patch sat, warm and heady with his scent piling up. His hand twitched, itching to pull it off and scratch at his scent glands until they bled. He settled for scraping his fingers across the smaller patches laid across each wrist.

But he couldn’t afford that. Not here. Not even in the comfort of his own home. Fear makes one do crazy things, and for him it’s obsessively hiding the scent of warm vanilla and cherry blossoms- his scent.
Only in the shower does he allow himself the luxury of letting a day’s worth of scent piling to wash down the drain. His neck and wrists so sensitive that he rubs them raw trying to scrub away the underlying guilt of doing this to his body.

Training wrapped up just a few moments later, the Bofurin students huddled together, exhausted yet satisfied with their work. The group started peeling off in pairs and clusters, their voices fading into the hum of tired bodies and quiet laughter.
Despite this, Sakura hung back. Nirei and Suo always walked with him, even waiting until the other students filed out of the locker room so they could change with him. He always faced away from them when he changed, afraid they’d notice what wasn’t there.
The moment someone mentioned showers or changing out of sweaty clothes, he made himself scarce. Not so much as to seem obvious—but just enough to avoid being cornered. Getting cornered always made his omega bare his teeth with full intention to snap back.
He lingered near the entrance of the damn place, his friends teasing him over the bruises splattered across his cheek. His uniform stuck slightly to his back with sweat, but he didn’t dare take it off. The curve of his waist and hips always made him feel shitty, like he was made to be breeding stock.

“You’re not changing with us?”

Sakura didn’t look up. “Didn’t realize you were taking attendance.”

Umemiya chuckled. “Nah, just… it’s the third time this week.”

Sakura’s eyes flicked up, sharp. “You counting now?”

Nirei and Suo went quiet beside him, Nirei shifting uncomfortably as Sakura puffed up like a feral cat. Suo’s face remained as impassive as usual.

“Not on purpose,” Umemiya said, leaning casually against the doorframe, the way someone did when they weren’t trying to intimidate you—but were still watching. “But I notice stuff.”
Sakura shifted. “Your point?”

Umemiya didn’t press. Just tilted his head. “You been feeling alright?”

Sakura bristled. “What is this, a check-in?”

“H-hey now- I’m sure he means well-”, Nirei stuttered and fretted at Sakura’s side. Everybody knew by now that Sakura got into fight or flight faster than a racecar, it was still a work in progress.

Sakura felt something pull tight in his chest. Worry, maybe fear. He didn’t know.

Umemiya let out a boisterous laugh, scaring the wits out of the three boys- though Suo’s eye only twitched in annoyance at the sound.
“No worries, guys! I’m simply making conversation with my Kohai”, he grins wide and places his hand on Sakura’s shoulder. Sakura instinctively bristled up, but relaxed as he met the alphas' kind eyes.
“Sakura, let me know if anything is troubling you. Okay? That’s all I needed to tell you.”

He hated that tone. Not because it was cruel—but because it wasn’t. Because it was gentle. And Sakura didn’t know what to do with gentle. Cruelty was easier- you could hit it back.
He shrugged, slipping past the boy as the room cleared out. “I’m fine. Don’t make it weird.”

Umemiya smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes this time. “Wasn’t trying to.”

Still, he stepped aside when Sakura moved past him—letting him go without a fight. But Sakura could feel it in his bones.

People were starting to see.

Chapter Text

The next morning hit Sakura like a brick to the skull.

His alarm went off, but it might as well have been a lullaby. He slapped it once. Then again. Then lay there, eyes half-lidded, arm draped over his forehead like some moody drama heroine.

He was… tired. Bone-heavy.

Weird.

He hadn’t stayed up late, either. In fact, he passed out as soon as he got home from afternoon patrol. Sakura just felt off.

Dragging himself out of bed felt like wading through tar. Splashing cold water across his face did nothing to soothe the aching tiredness between his eyes. He got ready for the day with bleary eyes and just barely resisted throwing himself back into his nest. Not even the chill of morning air tickling his skin made him any more awake or less sluggish.

He shuffled his way over to Café Pothos and snuck into a counter stool without his usual bravado. Thankfully, he hadn’t run into Granny Sato on the way—if she’d asked for a ride on his back, he probably would’ve fallen on his ass.

“Rough night?” Kotoha raised her eyebrow at him from across the counter where she was wiping away a bit of spilled milk. The cloth squelched unpleasantly, and the sound made Sakura want to gag.

He groaned and tipped his head down to place it atop the cool counter. His eyes fluttered closed and his breathing had just started evening out when a warm cup of coffee clinked against the polished surface beside him.

He pushed himself into a proper slouch and gingerly sipped at the offered drink. Sighing as the sweetness went down his throat. God, he loved sweetener.

“Your food’s almost done. Don’t fill up on coffee now,” Kotoha tutted as she plated his usual omurice. At the mention of food, Sakura perked up. It became suddenly and painfully clear that his stomach felt like a desert—empty and sad and roaring with need. It growled so loudly that Kotoha raised a brow again as she set the plate in front of him.

“Thank—mmm,” Sakura mumbled, too busy shoveling spoonfuls into his mouth to finish the sentence. His body took over. He barely even tasted the first few bites, only registering how desperately hungry he was, like his stomach had become bottomless overnight.

Sakura nearly inhaled the entire plate in record time, the fluffy egg and savory rice disappearing before he could register what was happening. When he finally set his spoon down, Kotoha was staring at him with a mix of concern and amusement.

“Damn. You eat like a soldier back from the trenches,” she muttered, half-joking.

Sakura blinked at her, swallowing the last bite. “Don’t flatter me.”

But the words came out too sharp, laced with a bitterness he didn’t intend.

Kotoha gave a slow blink. “...You okay, kid?”

He winced. “Sorry,” he muttered, pushing the empty plate away like it had offended him. “Didn’t mean to sound snappy.”

“Mm-hm,” she replied, voice softening. She leaned forward and pressed the back of her hand against his forehead. “You’re burning up a little. Coming down with something?”

Sakura's brows pinched together. He hadn’t noticed it until now, but there was a sort of heat crawling under his skin, spreading from the inside out. Like his own body was a blanket he couldn’t shake off.

“No,” he lied quickly, swiping at her hand. “Just tired.”

Too tired. Too hot. Too… something.

Kotoha didn’t push, just filled a glass of water for him and slipped him a honey candy with his receipt. “Suck on that if you start feeling dizzy.”

Sakura grumbled something that might’ve been “thanks,” as he sipped at the offered water. His eyes felt heavier after finishing his meal and, noticing this, Kotoha quickly urged him to get his ass to school.

He languidly waved to the beta girl as he left, and popped that candy in his mouth too.

The classroom was too bright. Too loud. The morning sunlight felt like it was personally trying to offend him through the windows.

Sakura dropped into his seat by the window with a thud and dug his head into his arms and over his eyes. He wasn’t even pretending to be cool today. He was just surviving at this point.

“Yo,” Nirei chirped, sliding into the seat next to him and immediately frowning. “You look like death microwaved.”

“Charming,” Sakura muttered, not bothering to lift his head. “Remind me why I hang out with you again?”

“Because I’m loveable,” Nirei replied, unfazed. “But seriously. Are you sick?”

“He doesn’t smell sick,” Tsugeura said from behind them, voice low but thoughtful. “He smells good.”

Nirei hummed as Tsugeura clapped his hands, "Smelling your best is always a good virtue!"

Sakura stiffened, heart skipping. “Back off, you're being loud,” he hissed, a little too quickly. “I’m fine.”

Kiryu, lounging in the desk in front of him, tilted his head and studied Sakura like a cat watching a pretty bird. “You sure? You’re sweating.”

“And your face is red,” Suo added calmly, flipping his pen between his fingers. His gaze was unreadable as usual, but Sakura could feel him observing every little detail. “Almost flushed.”

Sakura bared his little omega teeth. “It’s hot in here.”

“It’s 68 degrees,” Nirei replied, tapping his pointer fingers together.

“Shut up.”

They didn’t press further, but their silence said everything. All four of them were watching him now — not just glancing, but really watching. Worry creased their faces in different ways: Tsugeura's open concern, Nirei's quiet study, Kiryu’s usual curiosity dimmed into worried protectiveness, and Suo’s unnerving stillness.

Sakura grit his teeth and forced himself to sit up straighter. He even tried to fix his expression — smooth out the frown, wipe the glaze from his eyes.

It didn’t help that under all of it, his body was starting to feel worse.

Too warm. Too… aware of how close everyone was sitting. His limbs felt like they were vibrating. His pulse fluttered in his throat. He felt like crawling out of his own skin, or into someone else’s arms.

“Sakura,” Kiryu said gently, reaching back to rest a hand on his desk. “Do you want to go to the nurse?”

Sakura blinked at the hand. Then at Kiryu’s face. Then quickly away.

“No,” he muttered. “I’m not—”

“Going into preheat?” Suo finished.

Sakura’s body went rigid and his nails dug into his palms.

“Shut the hell up,” he growled. “Don’t say that.”

“We’re not judging,” Nirei said quickly, voice soothing. “You know that.”

“You don’t know anything.” His voice cracked, and heat surged up his neck. “I’m not an omega.”

Everyone went quiet. Other conversations throughout the classroom stuttered but quickly picked up as to not let in that they were listening. Like they knew better than to push.

Kiryu’s voice, low and quiet whispered: “We don’t care what you are. We just want you to feel safe.”

Something in Sakura trembled. He hated how good that sounded.

“I’m fine,” he muttered again, even though it was the weakest lie he’d ever told. He turned toward the window, hiding the wobble in his lips and the prickling at the corners of his eyes. “Just tired.”

Kiryu leaned back but left his hand on the desk, fingers just barely brushing Sakura’s. Not enough to startle him. Just enough to say: I'm here.

Suo watched him for a long beat, then passed him a cold bottle of water without a word.

Sakura took it, his fingers grazing Suo’s. He held it against his burning cheek, eyes fluttering shut.

None of them said anything else. They just let him sit there, surrounded, protected, loved — even if he didn’t want to admit that he needed it.

Sakura was sound asleep as their first class started. His breaths were short and even- his body more relaxed than ever before.

Suo studied the boy as the teacher droned on, occasionally calling on students to answer questions- but never disturbing Sakura from his sleep.

The omega boy slept with his mouth slightly parted, showing his small fangs off to anyone who bothered to look. 

Oh, Sakura... Can you be more obvious?

Suo's lips tipped upwards at the cute sight. Everyone knew only omegas had canines that small.

By the time lunch rolled around, Sakura was barely keeping it together.

His stomach roared like he hadn’t eaten a thing all day — despite the omurice from earlier. he even ate his vegetables, dammit!

His body was burning again, tingling and sensitive like static buzzed just beneath his skin. His eyes kept drifting closed and then snapping open again when he caught himself almost dozing off again in class. Waking up in the middle of a lecture was already embarrassing enough.

When the bell rang, he didn’t spring out of his chair with his usual flare. Instead, he just slumped forward against his desk with a low groan and shielded his ears from the sound.

“Lunch?” Nirei asked, already pulling out a bento box packed with something fried and delicious.

Sakura didn’t even respond with his usual sarcasm. Just lifted his head enough to peek over at the food, eyes half-lidded and lips slightly parted like he was tracking prey.

“You okay, man?” Tsueura asked, setting down his own lunch and scooting closer. “You’re looking kinda pale now.”

“I’m…” Sakura started, and then his stomach interrupted with a monstrous growl that made everyone at their cluster of desks freeze.

“Jesus,” Kiryu blinked. “Something alive in there?”

“Shut up,” Sakura snapped, but it lacked real heat. He pressed a hand to his gut, grimacing. “I’m just— I don’t know, starving all of a sudden.”

Without a word, Suo reached into his neatly wrapped lunch cloth and unwrapped a small, simple bento. A box of hand-rolled onigiri, soft tamagoyaki, and steamed vegetables. He set it gently on Sakura’s desk, along with a thermos of tea.

“Eat,” he said simply, unscrewing the lid of the thermos for him. “It’s jasmine. Helps calm the nerves.”

Sakura blinked at the gesture. His throat tightened a little, and not because of the hunger. “…You’re not eating that?”

“I brought extra,” Suo replied, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Sakura hesitated. Then: “…Thanks.” 

Despite some lingering suspicion- Suo has never brought himself lunch before- it came out soft. Earnest.

The group collectively blinked. Suo’s brow lifted in mild surprise, but he said nothing — just pushed the bento a little closer.

Kiryu smirked quietly from where he was lounging sideways in his chair. “Look at that. He can be polite.”

“Don’t ruin it,” Tsugeura whisper-shouted like it was a sacred moment.

Sakura flushed, then shot them all a warning look — but it was weak, undercut by the way he was already lifting a rice ball to his mouth like it might disappear.

He bit into it and let out a soft, deep hum of satisfaction, cheeks puffed out and eyes fluttering shut for a second. Like the food was the only thing anchoring him to reality.

“You look like a cat that caught the canary,” Kiryu teased, but there was something fond in it. Like he was watching something precious and trying not to scare it away.

“Shut up,” Sakura muttered again — but his voice was slower now, less combative. His shoulders drooped with something like relief as he sipped the jasmine tea. The warmth ran down his throat and settled into his belly like honey, and for once, the buzz under his skin dulled. He sighed without meaning to.

Everyone just… let him have the moment.

They ate around him, the four boys subtly adjusting their pace to make sure Sakura didn’t finish too far ahead or too far behind. The bento was soon empty. Sakura licked a grain of rice from his thumb and looked strangely content — drowsy, but in a good way.

Suo tilted his head slightly. “Better?”

Sakura didn’t answer right away. He stared at the thermos for a beat longer than necessary, then finally murmured, “Yeah. A little.”

That earned him a ruffle to the hair from Kiryu — which he grumbled at but didn’t really fight. Tsugeura passed him a piece of fruit from his own lunch without comment, and Kiryu leaned back with his arms behind his head, just smiling quietly at him.

No teasing now. Just warmth.

Chapter Text

The sun dipped low by the time the final school bell rang, dragging the sky into soft orange hues. The air felt warmer than usual—heavy, somehow—as if it knew Sakura was hanging on by threads. Still, Sakura knew he was the only one feeling this warmth, judging by how his friends shivered as they left the building.

His friends clustered around him as they usually did—Nirei talking too much, Tsugeura holding his bag like a concerned big brother, and Suo quietly offering him a sip of lukewarm jasmine tea from his bag.

“Drink it,” Suo said with a gentle smile. “You liked it last time.”

Sakura blinked down at the can, then took it with a small huff.
“I didn’t say I liked it.”
“You didn’t not like it either,” Suo replied.

The corners of Sakura’s mouth twitched upward against his will. Damn them. He felt like mush. Hot—too hot—especially around the face—and tired as hell. Again.

“You sure you don’t want someone to come with you?” Nirei asked, eyes flicking between him and the others.
“I’m not a baby,” Sakura muttered, even as he swayed just a little when he shifted his weight.

Kiryu stepped closer without a word, like a shadow.

They all started walking together, the usual light chatter buzzing around him while Sakura tried not to stumble. One by one, the others broke off.

“I’ve got tutoring,” Tsugeura said. “Call me if you need anything!” He grinned wide and reassuring before trotting off to who knows where.

“Don’t pass out before dinner,” Nirei added with a wink—which looked more like a forced blink than anything. “I’ll message you memes later.”

“Later,” Suo said, his eyes lingering just a second longer on Sakura’s face than they should have. Then he turned and walked off.

Sakura watched them go, trying not to feel smaller without the group. He noticed Kiryu was still walking beside him.

“Aren’t you headed the other way?” he asked.
The pink-haired alpha shrugged with studied nonchalance.
“Nah. Your place is on the way.”

It really wasn’t.

Sakura opened his mouth to call the lie, then stopped. He didn’t have the energy. And, maybe, he didn’t want to.

They walked in silence most of the way. It was easy with Kiryu. Comfortable. When Sakura stumbled a bit, Kiryu steadied him by the elbow.

“You’re hot,” he muttered.
Sakura’s cheeks flared. “Don’t say stuff like that.”
“Temperature-wise, genius,” Kiryu deadpanned. “You’re running warm.”

Sakura grumbled under his breath and kept walking.

When they got to his apartment, Sakura didn’t protest when Kiryu followed him in. He dropped his bag with a grunt and rubbed at his temples.

“Want me to make you tea or something?” Kiryu offered, already going into the kitchen with Suo’s thermos and pouring the leftover tea into a mug for him.

Sakura was halfway into pulling off his shoes when he mumbled,
“I guess. If you’re staying.”

Kiryu’s ears tinted pink.
“Actually… would it be weird if I stayed over? I’ve been meaning to for a while. Just never got around to asking.”

“What? Why?” Sakura blinked at him.

“I dunno,” Kiryu said, scratching at his cheek. “Haven’t had a sleepover in a while. Figured we could hang out. Watch trash TV on my phone. Or sleep.”

A beat of silence.

“Uh—I’ll sleep on the floor. Or couch. Or with my head in the sink. Not picky.”
The alpha chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his head.

Sakura stared for a second, unsure how to respond. Then he muttered,
“It’s whatever. Just don’t hog the blanket.”

Kiryu hid a soft smile behind the palm of his hand.

Meanwhile, Sakura began organizing his futon and tossing random clothes into a corner. A few stuffed animals flew by too—ones they’d all picked out for him at the mall a while ago. Kiryu returned to find him fussing over pillows and blankets, creating a weird cocoon of fabric.

“...You nesting?” he asked before he could stop himself.

Sakura froze.
“No. I don’t nest . It’s just… it’s more comfortable this way.”

Kiryu didn’t argue.
Sakura groaned and curled up in the pile of blankets. Kiryu sat a few feet away, cross-legged, giving him space but close enough to be reassuring.

Eventually, Sakura peeled off his sweaty shirt and tossed it into the laundry bin, yanking a soft tank top over his head. Then, half-asleep, he stood to change into softer shorts—completely forgetting Kiryu was still behind him.

Kiryu turned away quickly, polite. But his eyes flicked, just once.

No bulge. Just soft fabric and smooth hips. And with that, a hundred things clicked into place.

Kiryu didn’t react. No shock. No teasing. Just… a small breath out, and even gentler silence.

“You’re weirdly quiet,” Sakura muttered, cheeks pink as he dropped into his nest again.

Kiryu looked at him. “I don’t think anything changed.”

Sakura frowned, suspicious.
“What?”

“You’re still Sakura. Still stubborn. Still bitey. Still ours to take care of. We’re carrying you to the top, remember?” Kiryu grinned wide and reassuring.

The room went still.

“…Tch,” Sakura muttered, burrowing deeper into the nest.
“Say cheesy crap like that again and I’ll shove you off the balcony.”

Kiryu chuckled. “Sure. But only if you’re feeling strong enough to lift me.”

That earned him a pillow thrown at his face, and then, after a minute, a quiet sound from Sakura’s nest that almost— almost —sounded like a laugh.

He felt nice. So, so nice.

The apartment was quiet, save for the soft whir of the ceiling fan and the muffled sounds of a late-night show playing on Kiryu’s phone. They had both pretended to watch it, but Sakura’s eyes kept drifting shut, his body thrumming uncomfortably beneath his skin.

Kiryu ordered pizza for them earlier, as Sakura was still hungry as a lion. The empty box sat on the kitchen counter, away from where they were lying together.

He lay curled in his blanket nest on the floor, face flushed despite the cool air. Kiryu had taken the space beside him, not touching, not crowding—but close. The kind of close that made Sakura feel safe. And twitchy. And, unfortunately, increasingly aware of the heat blooming low in his belly.

“Can’t sleep?” Kiryu asked, his voice quiet and a little rough.

Sakura huffed, his scent picking up at the sound of his voice. “I can sleep just fine. Shut up.”

Kiryu chuckled. “Sure you can. That’s why you’ve been squirming like a cat on a hot roof for twenty minutes.”

Sakura rolled onto his back and glared at the ceiling. “It’s just… warm.”

Kiryu didn’t say anything at first. Then, after a pause, “You know, I think Omegas are kind of cool.”

Sakura stiffened. His hands began to pick at his patches, scratching them where they sat.

Kiryu kept going, like he hadn’t just thrown a wrench into Sakura’s chest. “Like, they’re strong. Not the brute strength kind, but… they handle a lot. Constant instincts, biology trying to get them to roll over and submit—and they fight it. Every day. That’s not weak. That’s badass.”

Sakura’s throat felt tight. He hated that it made something flutter behind his ribs. 

He paused his scratching. 

“…You think I’m an Omega, don’t you?” he asked, voice almost a whisper.

Kiryu shrugged slightly, keeping his gaze on the ceiling. “I think you’re you. Labels don’t change the way I look at you.”

“Okay.”

There was silence for a long moment. Sakura shifted again, burying his nose deeper into the blankets. His scent was starting to leak through the blockers, warm and sugary, like vanilla and cherry blossoms. It made his stomach flip with shame and… something else.

Then Kiryu did something completely innocent—he reached over and gently brushed some hair out of Sakura’s face.

That was it. Just that.

Sakura’s body reacted like he’d been kissed. Heat pulsed down his spine and settled in his gut like molten sugar. His thighs clenched instinctively, and a quiet, traitorous sound slipped past his lips.

Kiryu immediately pulled his hand back, eyes wide. “Whoa—sorry! I didn’t mean—”

“I—I’m not—!” Sakura bolted upright, face burning, voice cracking. “That wasn’t—I didn’t—!”

Kiryu stared at him for a second. Then softened. “Hey. It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay,” Sakura snapped, dragging the blanket up to his chin. “You can’t just—do that. My body’s being stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” Kiryu said gently. “It’s just your body doing what it’s wired to do. Doesn’t mean it controls you. I’m sorry for touching you without your permission, though.”

Sakura said nothing. His face was still burning. And he could still feel the dampness between his thighs—proof of his failure to suppress the omega instincts clawing their way out.

Kiryu lay back down, folding his arms behind his head. “Don’t worry. I’m not gonna do anything. Not unless you want it.”

Sakura made a small noise in the back of his throat. Then, very quietly, “...Thanks. For not making it weird.”

Kiryu smiled to himself in the dark. “You make it weird enough for the both of us.”

“Shut up.”

“Sleep, brat.”

“I’ll kill you.”

He didn’t say it out loud, but it was the safest Sakura had felt in weeks.

The nest was soft. Warm. Sakura drifted closer in spite of himself, the weight of the day finally settling into his bones. Kiryu didn’t comment when Sakura scooted closer under the pretense of needing more blanket. He just adjusted the covers, made space for him, and let the quiet stretch out like a lullaby.

Soon, Sakura’s breathing slowed into the deep rhythm of sleep.

Kiryu let his own eyes close, the warmth of the room and the comfort of Sakura’s scent—too sweet, too strong—pulling him under.

Time passed in flickers. An hour, maybe two. The glow of the phone screen had dimmed to black. The air was still. Calm.

Until a subtle sound stirred him.

Kiryu blinked blearily, trying to place it. A soft, breathy noise. Barely audible. Then a rustle. A shift of weight. A faint sigh.

He turned his head.

Sakura had shifted in his sleep, half on his side, one knee hitched up against a pillow. His hands gripped it unconsciously as he rubbed against it, hips moving in slow, instinctive little rolls.

Kiryu froze.

Not because it was lascivious—not really. It wasn’t calculated or teasing. It was… pure biology. A sleeping omega, deep in the grip of preheat, chasing relief he didn’t even know he needed.

Sakura whimpered softly, brows furrowed. The movement was slow and uneven, like his body was half-fighting itself. It would’ve been easy for someone else to misread the moment. But Kiryu just felt his heart twist.

“...Sakura,” he whispered, gentle as a breeze.

No response. Sakura shifted again, burying his face into the pillow, breath hitching on a quiet gasp.

Kiryu’s chest ached. He sat up slowly, brushing the hair off his own face before reaching out to place a hand lightly on Sakura’s shoulder, waking him.

“Hey,” he murmured. “You’re dreaming.”

Sakura stilled for a second. Then twitched. “No, I—I wasn’t—!”

His voice cracked as he jolted, the full burn of embarrassment crashing in like a wave. He practically scrambled backward, eyes wide, breathing shallow.

Kiryu raised both palms immediately. “It’s okay. You were just sleeping.”

“I wasn’t—doing anything weird!”

“I didn’t say you were.”

“You looked!”

“I was worried!”

Sakura looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole. “...You think I’m disgusting.”

Kiryu’s face softened. “I think you’re in preheat, and you’re trying really hard to pretend you’re not. That’s all.”

Sakura’s eyes glossed with something fragile. “I’m not weak.”

“I never said you were,” Kiryu replied quietly. “You’re burning up, confused, and your body’s betraying you—and you’re still trying to act like nothing’s wrong. That’s not weak. That’s stubborn and kind of stupid. But it’s also kind of… you.”

A silence stretched.

Sakura didn’t meet his eyes. He curled in on himself, breathing still uneven. Kiryu reached out again, slower this time, and laid a steadying hand on his arm.

“Do you want to go splash water on your face?” Kiryu offered. “I can make tea. Sit up with you for a while.”

Sakura hesitated. Then gave the smallest nod.

“…Yeah,” he said, hoarse. “Okay.”

Kiryu squeezed his arm gently before getting up. And as he padded to the kitchen to heat some water, he couldn’t help glancing back—watching the way Sakura curled around himself like he was afraid of falling apart.

He wouldn’t let that happen.

Not on his watch.

Kiryu returned with a mug of tea, the steam curling lazily into the quiet between them.

Sakura sat slumped in the nest of blankets, arms crossed loosely, gaze unfocused. His cheeks were flushed again—maybe from heat, maybe from the way Kiryu kept looking at him like he mattered.

“Careful,” Kiryu said gently, offering the mug. “Still hot.”

Sakura took it without a word. His hands trembled just slightly, but he didn’t spill.

They sat like that for a while, the silence dense but not uncomfortable. Just... waiting.

Sakura set the mug down and leaned back, one arm thrown over his eyes. His voice came strained, like he was trying to make it sound casual and failing.

“My parents didn’t want an omega in the house.”

The words landed flat. Matter-of-fact. No drama. No tears.

Kiryu’s throat tightened.

“They tried to keep it quiet, at first. Pretend I was just… a late bloomer. But when it started getting obvious—when I couldn’t hide the symptoms anymore—they lost it. Said I’d be better off somewhere else. Away from the family. Away from ‘people who might ask questions.’” He made air quotes with tired fingers.

Kiryu couldn’t hide the fury blooming in his chest, but he swallowed it. This moment wasn’t about him.

“They sent me here. Far enough away to make it inconvenient to visit, but not so far they can’t wire money once a month to keep me fed and shut up. I figured I'd make the best of it and put myself in Bofurin to fight some losers.”

Sakura shifted, trying for a smirk but only managing something brittle. “So yeah. I’m living the dream. Freedom and all.”

“Sakura…”

“Don’t. Just—don’t pity me, alright? I’m not telling you this for sympathy. I’m not even supposed to have heats… I’m on birth control.”

Kiryu sat down next to him, close but not touching. “I don’t pity you. And Sakura, birth control doesn’t work sometimes. It happens.”

Sakura didn’t respond. Just stared at the ceiling like it might give him answers.

“I don’t want people to know,” he said after a while, quieter now. “I’m not… ready.”

Kiryu’s gaze softened. “I won’t tell anyone.”

Sakura’s jaw twitched. “Even if they already suspect?”

“Even then.”

He hesitated, then added, “You know, omegas aren’t weak.”

Sakura snorted. “Tell that to my parents.”

“I’m telling you,” Kiryu said. “I think it’s brave. What you’re doing. Living on your own. Pretending everything’s fine. Surviving in a world that’s designed to crush you the second you show softness.”

Sakura blinked slowly, something unreadable flickering in his eyes.

Kiryu smiled faintly. “Honestly, I think omegas are the coolest. They’ve got instincts and guts.”

“…You’re such a dork,” Sakura muttered.

Kiryu grinned. “Takes one to know one.”

They sat like that for a long time. The silence finally felt lighter.

Eventually, Sakura yawned and rubbed at his eyes, mumbling, “Sleep now. Before I regret letting you stay.”

“Roger that,” Kiryu said, curling up near the edge of the nest. “I’ll try not to snore.”

“Kick you if you do,” Sakura mumbled, already half-asleep.

But just before he drifted off, he muttered so quietly Kiryu almost missed it:

“Thanks. For staying.”

Kiryu didn’t say anything. He just smiled and settled in.

And in the hush of the night, surrounded by tangled blankets and the faint scent of jasmine tea, they both fell asleep—closer than either had expected, and more comfortable than either would admit.

Chapter Text

Sakura woke up in the early hours of the morning with a gasp.
His body was burning. Not the kind of warmth that came with thick blankets or a heating pad—no, this was something deep, twisting and aching. Everything felt tight and unbearably soft at once. He couldn’t stop trembling. A sharp cramp curled low in his belly, dragging a whimper out of his throat before he could smother it with the back of his hand. His breath caught, and a sharp wave of heat rolled through his spine. He clutched the fabric nest he'd made the previous night, dragging pillows and clothes tighter around himself with frantic, desperate movements.

“...Sakura?”

The voice came from beside him—rough from sleep but alert. Kiryu.

Sakura turned over, shivering. His hair clung to his damp forehead, and his scent patch was askew, hanging half-loose from the side of his neck. He didn’t notice. But Kiryu did.

Kiryu sat up slowly from the futon, eyes immediately honing in on the flushed mess bundled up in a tangle of blankets and sweat. His nostrils flared subtly, jaw tense.

“Sakura,” he said more softly this time, voice dipping low. “You okay?”

“No,” Sakura rasped. “I… I think it’s heat. F-Full heat. It hurts—”

Another cramp seized his lower abdomen, and he bit down hard on the edge of a pillow, muffling the whine that wanted out. He didn’t want to cry, but his eyes stung.

Kiryu stood up slowly, his movements tense, like he was holding himself back. The moment he stepped closer, his senses were overwhelmed. Sakura’s scent hit him like a brick—sickly-sweet and unbearably good. His patch must have come off sometime during the night.

Kiryu swallowed, throat dry.

“Your… your patch,” he said roughly. “It slipped off.”

Sakura blinked at him—dazed, slow, and shimmering with sweat. “Can you… can you scent me?”

Kiryu froze.

“I—I just… need your smell. I need it,” Sakura admitted, voice shaking with shame and desperation. “Everything hurts.”

His pride was in tatters. He knew how pathetic he sounded. He didn’t care anymore. It was Kiryu—his friend. His friend who had stayed by his side throughout the night and didn’t judge him based on his omega status.

Kiryu hesitated only a moment longer before crossing the room and slowly kneeling beside the nest. “I got you.”

He leaned in gently, pressing his wrist first against Sakura’s throat, then slid an arm under his shoulders. He tucked his nose into Sakura’s hair and exhaled slowly, scenting him deliberately, carefully—the way alphas did when trying not to overwhelm.

Sakura nearly melted. A deep shudder ran through him, and he clung tighter to Kiryu’s sweater, dragging him further into his arms, burying his face in the crook of the alpha’s neck. His entire body relaxed by degrees as Kiryu layered his scent over him like a warm blanket.

“More,” Sakura whispered. “Please.”

Kiryu cursed under his breath but complied. He ran a slow hand down Sakura’s back, scenting the crown of his head again, his neck, even his wrists.

“You smell like maple,” Sakura mumbled, breath hitching. “And birch. It’s nice…”

Kiryu chuckled, though his voice was strained. “Thank you, Sakura.”

Sakura started curling tighter, unconsciously grinding into a pillow again, thighs rubbing together under the blankets. His body moved instinctively, and it took a second before he realized what he was doing.

He froze, mortified.

“Shit—! Sorry—I didn’t—!” He shoved the pillow away, eyes wide, horrified. “I didn’t mean to—!”

Kiryu exhaled sharply and stood, turning toward the wall like he needed a breather. “It’s okay,” he said tightly, running a hand through his hair. “Not your fault. Just heat. Just instincts.”

“You need to go,” Sakura said quickly, suddenly panicked. “I—I can’t deal with this and you—your scent—it’s too—!”

“I’m not leaving you like this,” Kiryu said, though his voice had a tremor now. “But I’m calling backup.”

“Who?”

“Nirei,” Kiryu muttered, already pulling out his phone. “Beta. Neutral. He’ll help without losing his mind.”

Sakura buried himself deeper into the nest in embarrassment while Kiryu paced the room once before shooting Nirei a text.

K: come over. sakura’s in full heat. scent patch came off. I can’t stay long.
K: bring lots of food and water. don’t freak him out.

Kiryu returned to Sakura’s side, crouching and lowering his voice. “He’s on his way, okay? Just hold on.”

Sakura nodded shakily. “Thanks…”

Kiryu gave him a small, strained smile, wiping a bead of sweat from his temple. “You’re doing good, dumbass.”

“…Say it again,” Sakura mumbled into the blankets, flushed.

“Huh?”

“…Say I’m doing good again.”

Kiryu blinked. Then softened. He leaned in, pressing his wrist lightly to Sakura’s once more.

“You’re doing good,” he murmured, voice low and thick. “You’re doing so good.”

And for now, that was enough.

A sharp knock echoed through the apartment not long after.

Kiryu looked down at Sakura—still curled deep in the nest of blankets and pillows, skin flushed, pupils blown wide, damp hair clinging to his temples. The alpha grit his teeth and stood quickly, torn, then headed for the door with one last look over his shoulder.

The moment he unlocked it, Nirei stepped inside, arms full—two bags swinging from his wrists, stacked with bottled water, nutrient packs, and pre-wrapped onigiri from the corner store.

“Hey,” he greeted, voice low and even—then stopped short.

His eyes swept the room, taking in the humid heat of the air, the tension like a taut wire stretched from one end of the apartment to the other. His gaze landed on Sakura, half-buried in the nest, visibly trembling under a heavy sweat. Then flicked to Kiryu, who was pacing like a caged animal, jaw clenched.

“…Oh—shit,” Nirei muttered, stepping fully inside. “This looks bad.”

Kiryu exhaled hard through his nose and dragged a hand through his pink dyed hair. “Yeah.”

Nirei dropped the bags by the kitchen counter, then approached the nest with slow, careful steps. He crouched near the edge, giving Sakura space but not hesitating to speak.

“Sakura?”

At first, Sakura didn’t respond. His face was mostly buried in the folds of Kiryu’s hoodie, gripping it like a lifeline. Only when the air shifted—Nirei’s scent drifting in, neutral and cool—did he stir.

He peeked up, lids heavy, expression dazed and foggy. “Hey.”

Nirei offered a small, gentle smile—playing it casual. “You look like shit.”

“Thanks,” Sakura rasped, already blushing even harder. “I feel like it.”

“I brought water. And food. Kiryu said your patch slipped and you’re… in it.”

Sakura gave a tiny nod, then glanced toward Kiryu—his expression twisted in guilt and something smaller, more afraid. Kiryu was still hovering too close, visibly restless, like his whole body was clenched against the instinct to scent Sakura again.

Nirei stood slowly and turned to Kiryu, his voice quiet but firm. “You reek, man. Like strong alpha. I don’t know how you’re even still standing.”

Kiryu huffed and looked away, nostrils flaring. “I didn’t want to leave him alone.”

“You won’t be. But you’re not helping either,” Nirei said, not unkindly. “You’re making it worse for both of you.”

Kiryu looked back toward the nest—and froze. Sakura had shifted, hips twitching slightly under the blankets again, clearly trying to stay still, but failing.

Kiryu flinched like he’d been burned and turned away, biting the inside of his cheek. “Shit…”

“Yeah. Thought so.” Nirei gently pushed him toward the door. “Go splash some cold water on your face. Walk around the block. Do anything but stay here.”

Kiryu didn’t budge at first. His fists were clenched at his sides. “You’ll text me if—?”

“If anything changes, yes.” Nirei nodded, giving him a little shove. “Go. We’ve got this.”

Kiryu finally moved toward the door, shoulders tense. But before stepping out, he turned back one last time.

His voice dropped, softer. “You’ll be okay, Sakura. Just hang in there.”

Sakura lifted his head a little from the pile of clothes, eyes glassy. “Thanks… for everything.”

Kiryu looked like he wanted to say more—do more—but instead, he gave a tight, crooked smile and left, pulling the door shut gently behind him.

The silence that followed was immediate. Heavy.

Nirei sighed and rolled up his sleeves. “Okay, heat noodle. Let’s get you fed and watered before you dry out.”

“…Don’t call me a noodle,” Sakura mumbled, curling deeper into the nest, clearly mortified. His voice cracked halfway through the sentence and he buried his face again. “Go to hell.”

“After you drink some water, sure.”

He reached into the bag and cracked open a bottle, holding it out without pushing. “I mean it, Sakura. Let’s just get you through this. No judgment. No pressure.”

Sakura hesitated… then reached for the water with a trembling hand.

Nirei popped the cap off the water bottle and held it out again, this time more insistently.

“Sakura. Drink.”

Sakura glared at him, cheeks flushed with frustration and fever, but he took it. His hands were trembling so much the water sloshed near the rim. Nirei helped steady it without a word, watching as the omega took a few small sips.

“Slowly,” he said. “You’re burning up.”

“Shut up,” Sakura mumbled hoarsely. “I know.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Nirei replied gently, sitting cross-legged beside the nest. “Still gonna say it.”

Sakura set the bottle down and curled back into his blankets, clearly exhausted. Nirei didn’t move, just sat with him quietly, letting the silence stretch.

It was strange seeing him like this. Sakura—who could floor three guys with one arm in a street brawl. Sakura—who took on delinquents twice his size and barely flinched. Sakura—who always acted like nothing could touch him.

And now, here he was. Sweating. Trembling. Breathing shallow.

Still fighting it , Nirei thought. Even now, he’s still fighting .

Sakura’s voice was suddenly small. “You don’t have to stay.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Nirei said firmly. “You think I came all this way just to drop off food and bounce?”

Sakura frowned and turned his face into Kiryu’s sweater, “I don’t want anyone to see me like this.”

“Too late,” Nirei said, chuckling. “But also? I’m glad I’m here.”

Sakura didn’t reply, but his fingers clenched in the fabric.

“You’re always acting like you’re invincible,” Nirei continued, quieter now. “Like nothing gets to you. But I know that’s not true. No one’s that strong. Not even you.”

“That’s not—” Sakura began, but his voice broke mid-sentence. He winced and buried deeper into the pile. “It’s just easier that way. If I look weak, people treat me like I’m… lesser. Or try to fix me. Or take advantage.”

“I wouldn’t,” Nirei said, voice sure.

“I know you wouldn’t,” Sakura muttered.

There was a beat of silence.

“You know,” Nirei said, reaching out and smoothing down the edge of the blanket by Sakura’s shoulder, “I used to think you were kinda scary.”

That pulled a faint, startled huff from Sakura.

“I mean, come on. You walk around like you’ve already won the fight, even when one hasn’t started yet,” Nirei said with a grin. “I wanted to be like that. I still do. You’re the toughest person I’ve ever met.”

Sakura blinked, face half-hidden. “You’re such an idiot.”

“Maybe,” Nirei said. “But I mean it. I’ve been trying to learn your moves. The way you block. The way you dodge. I’ve been watching every time you spar, even when you think I’m not.”

Sakura’s breath hitched again, and not from pain this time. He turned his head, his expression unreadable, eyes red from heat and emotion.

“…Why?” he asked. “Why do you care?”

Nirei looked him dead in the eye. “Because I want to be someone you can count on.”

That made Sakura go very, very still.

“I know I’m not the strongest guy in the room. I’m not an alpha, or a fighter like you. But I am your friend. And I’m gonna be here, even if you’re curled up in a stupid blanket nest shaking like a leaf.”

Sakura stared at him for a long time. His lip trembled, just slightly.

“…I hate this,” he whispered. “Being like this.”

“I know,” Nirei said, soft. “But you don’t have to hate yourself.”

Sakura choked back a sound and looked away fast, wiping his eyes roughly with the back of his hand.

“Shut up,” he mumbled. “You’re so damn annoying.”

Nirei smiled. “Yup. And I’m staying right here. So deal with it.”

He reached out again, this time brushing Sakura’s bangs back from his sticky forehead. Sakura didn’t flinch. Didn’t pull away. Just lay there, breathing unevenly, gaze fixed somewhere far away.

But he didn’t tell Nirei to leave.

And that was enough.

Chapter Text

The pain ebbed and flowed like the tide—sometimes bearable, sometimes crashing into him so hard it left him shaking.

But for now, with Nirei sitting at the edge of the nest, rhythmically tapping two water bottles together like drumsticks, the ache receded just enough that Sakura could breathe.

“Kinda sucks, huh?” Nirei said casually, nodding at the dim room. “Heat and all.”

Sakura grunted and tried to shift without drawing attention to how his thighs rubbed together beneath the blanket.

“Understatement of the year,” he muttered.

Nirei let out a snort. “You know what else sucks? Convenience store onigiri. They always put, like, a single sad piece of salmon right in the middle and call it a day. Total scam.”

Sakura blinked at him, then let out a short, surprised laugh. It cracked in the middle, but it was a laugh.

Nirei grinned, clearly pleased. “There it is.”

“Why are you like this,” Sakura groaned, dragging a pillow over his face. “You’re so stupid.”

“Correct,” Nirei said. “But if I can get you to laugh while you’re literally leaking pheromones and dying, I’m doing something right.”

“Don’t talk about my pheromones.”

Nirei awkwardly chuckled and began tapping the water bottles again, making a piss-poor attempt at a steady beat.

“God.” Sakura groaned again and rolled to the side, pressing his cheek into a clean shirt in the nest. “Kill me.”

“Hard pass. Too much paperwork.”

Despite everything, the banter helped. It reminded Sakura he was still himself underneath all the chemical chaos—still the same surly bastard Nirei willingly chose to hang out with. The pain came back a few minutes later—a sharp twist low in his gut that made him bite his lip hard.

“Hey,” Nirei said quickly, setting down the bottles. “You okay?”

Sakura nodded, but barely. His hand fisted in the blankets.

“Do you want me to talk more? Distract you?”

“No,” Sakura rasped, then, after a beat: “Maybe.”

Nirei didn’t miss a beat. “Okay, here’s a question. What’s the first fight you ever got into?”

Sakura blinked at him, dazed, sweat beading along his hairline. But the distraction worked. He shifted, drawing his knees up, thinking through the haze. “…Some dumb kid in middle school tried to pull off my pants when I was presenting. Punched him in the throat.”

Nirei whistled. “Badass.”

“Got suspended. His parents were pissed. Mine too.”

“They always make it out to be your fault, don’t they?”

That earned another bitter huff from Sakura, barely a laugh but still something. For a moment, it felt almost normal. Then another wave rolled through him—sharper this time. He sucked in a breath, his hips twitching before he could stop them. His body moved on its own, grinding down ever so slightly against the pile of soft fabric under him. Nirei looked up at the movement but said nothing. Sakura’s face went redder than it already was. He turned away fast, burying his nose in the blankets.

“I’m fine,” he said immediately. “That didn’t mean anything.”

“Hey,” Nirei said gently. “I know.”

“I didn’t mean to— It just— I can’t—” He tensed all over, breath catching again.

“You don’t have to explain it,” Nirei said, voice calm and quiet. “You don’t have to be embarrassed around me.”

Sakura clenched his jaw, fingers tightening in the blanket. “I hate this. I hate needing anything.”

“I know,” Nirei said again. He reached out and rested a steadying hand on Sakura’s arm. “But I don’t think needing people makes you weak. You’re still you. Even like this.”

Sakura shivered.

“…You really look up to me that much?” he asked softly, barely audible.

“Yeah,” Nirei answered without hesitation. “You make me want to be stronger. Not just physically. But, like, brave. Unshakable. You know?”

Sakura didn’t reply for a while. His eyes were closed. But his body had gone still—no longer straining, no longer fighting. Just breathing.

“You’re stronger than you think,” he murmured. “Not many people would stay.”

“Well,” Nirei said, adjusting the blanket over him gently, “I’m not most people.”

Sakura gave a low hum, exhausted but somehow soothed. His next words were slurred at the edges with exhaustion and instinct, but honest:

“…Don’t leave.”

Nirei smiled, settling back beside him, legs crossed.

“I’m here, Sakura. Always.”

And as the omega drifted closer to sleep—still flushed, still aching, but calmer now—Nirei stayed. Watching over him. Quiet and steady and proud.

Friendship could be just as grounding as any bond, after all.

Sakura stirred at the sound of crinkling plastic and the distinct scent of rice and tuna.

“Hey,” Nirei said softly, crouching at the edge of the nest. “Wakey wakey”

Sakura cracked one eye open, bleary and flushed. He groaned, trying to bury himself deeper into the blankets. But Nirei gently poked his cheek with a chopstick.

“C’mon. You gotta eat something. It’s already past noon.”

That made Sakura freeze for a second. “Noon?”

“Yup. You slept, like, four hours. Honestly, I’m impressed.”

Another cramp rolled through Sakura’s belly—not as sharp as earlier, but persistent. He hissed and sat up slowly, clutching the blanket to his chest.

Nirei handed him an onigiri. “Eat. Or I’m feeding you.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

Nirei raised an eyebrow. “You’re in no position to challenge me right now.”

Sakura huffed but took the rice ball. He peeled the wrapper off with sluggish fingers and took a small bite. Warmth spread slowly through his chest as the food settled into his stomach. After a moment, he mumbled, “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Nirei leaned back, cracking open a water bottle and passing it over. “You’re kind of a pain in the ass, but you’re my friend. So.”

Sakura’s eyes softened a little. He chewed, then swallowed, then asked, “You staying until tonight?”

Nirei blinked at him. “Tonight? No, dumbass," Sakura's heart dropped ,"I’m staying the whole time .”

Sakura paused mid-bite. “What?”

“Three days, right? Kiryu said heats usually last that long. I figured I’d stick around. You shouldn't be alone for any of it.”

Sakura stared at him, genuinely stunned. “You… Do your parents know?”

“Of course.” Nirei shrugged. “They were proud of me. Said it was good I was taking care of my friends.” He smiled a little, looking proud of himself. “I even got bonus allowance for ‘responsibility.’”

Sakura was quiet. Then: “That’s… really nice.”

“Yeah, they’re alright.” He glanced at Sakura, eyes softer now. “You okay with it?”

Sakura looked away, fiddling with the edge of the blanket. “I guess. I just didn’t think… anyone would do something like that for me.”

“Well, I am ,” Nirei said simply. “You’d do the same if it were me, right?”

Sakura didn’t answer immediately, but the faint blush rising on his cheeks gave him away. His scent fluttered around the room, stronger now— soft and warm, but threaded faintly with maple from earlier, where Kiryu’s scent still clung to his skin like armor. Nirei didn’t comment on the mix, but he noticed it. He smiled anyway.

“You smell like springtime,” he said. “Kind of like those weird sakura-flavored sodas they sell during hanami.”

Sakura snorted. “I hate those. Too sweet.”

“You’re kinda sweet, though. On the inside.” Nirei winked. “Real deep inside. Buried under like seven layers of grumpy.”

“Shut up,” Sakura mumbled, curling into the blanket again, flustered but touched.

Nirei leaned back on his hands. “We should do something to pass the time. Cards? Dumb YouTube videos? I downloaded a rhythm game the other day, I bet you'd be good at it.”

Sakura gave him a wary look. “I’m literally in heat. I can barely stand up.”

“You can prop your phone against a water bottle and play lying down. I’ve seen you fight with a sprained ankle. You’ll manage.”

Sakura rolled his eyes. “You’re the worst.”

“And yet, you’re still letting me stay.” Nirei smirked. “Must mean something.”

“…Yeah,” Sakura said after a beat, gaze drifting down to the blanket. His fingers curled around the edge of it gently. “It does.”

For a little while, things felt calm.

Even in pain—even with instincts clawing at him just beneath the surface—Sakura felt safe. He didn’t have to pretend to be strong here. Not with Nirei.

And Nirei? He’d already decided there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

Chapter Text

By mid-afternoon, Sakura’s heat spiked again.

His skin was burning, sweat beading along his spine, and everything felt wrong. Too soft. Too itchy. Too hot. His nest, which had felt like a sanctuary just hours ago, was now a tangled mess of blankets, pillows, and clothes that offered no relief. He’d already ripped it apart twice and rebuilt it, but the ache in his belly wouldn’t fade. He whimpered quietly, pressing his forehead against a pillow before tossing it aside.

Nirei looked up from where he was gathering snack wrappers. “Nest not working?”

“No,” Sakura whined, frustrated. “It’s not… enough. It doesn’t feel right .”

He curled tighter on his side, breath coming quicker now. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“You’re in heat,” Nirei said gently, getting up and crouching beside him. “You’re not broken. It just sucks, that’s all.”

“I feel like I’m going crazy.” Sakura’s fingers were shaking as he clutched at a sweater sleeve. “Like I need something, but I don’t know what.”

Nirei hesitated, then said cautiously, “Do you think it might be… scent?”

Sakura blinked up at him.

“You’ve got your own stuff, sure, but maybe your instincts want something that feels safer. More bonded,” Nirei continued. “Something that smells like someone you trust. You know. To hold onto.”

Sakura flushed scarlet and immediately buried his face in a pillow. “That’s so gross.”

“It’s not!” Nirei said quickly, scooting closer. “It’s instinct, dude. It’s just part of being an omega. You can’t help it. You want safety when you feel this bad, right?”

Sakura mumbled into the pillow, “It’s weird. I don’t want to make anyone feel weird.”

“You won’t,” Nirei promised. “I mean, I could scent something right now, if that helps?”

Sakura peeked at him through his fringe, suspicious. “You don’t even smell like anything.”

“I do ,” Nirei protested. “I smell like paper and leather. Pretty manly, no?” He smirks.

“…You smell like a desk ?”

“Better than sweaty alpha musk!” Nirei grinned. He grabbed one of the plush animals nestled in the corner of the nest—a white cat plush with frayed ears—and held it up. “May I?”

Sakura hesitated, then gave the smallest of nods. With unusual seriousness, Nirei brought the plush to his chest, hugged it tightly, and then rubbed it gently along his neck and collarbones, layering his scent into it until it smelled like subtle crispness—warm paper, fresh leather bound notebooks, and just a little of the detergent from his house. It was soothing. Light. Clean.

He placed the plush near Sakura’s chest.

“There. Now your favorite cat smells like your favorite beta.”

“I hate you,” Sakura grumbled, but he didn’t push it away. He pressed the plush gently to his face instead.

Nirei’s phone buzzed. A text.

He glanced at it. Kiryu.

K: how’s sakura doing?

Nirei typed back quickly, one eye still on Sakura.

N: fever’s up again. he keeps rebuilding his nest, it’s not helping. I think he needs more scent comfort. I scented something for him but…

A few seconds passed.

K: got it. give me 30 min.

K: I’ll bring something.

K: Suo too.

Nirei blinked. “Hey. Kiryu and Suo are dropping something off.”

Sakura stirred. “What? Why?”

“They’re bringing some scent items. Stuff that smells like them. To help your nest feel safer.”

Sakura’s ears turned red. “Oh my god. No. No no no no no—”

But fifteen minutes later, there was a soft knock at the apartment door, and when Nirei cracked it open, there was no one on the other side—just a plastic grocery bag left on the welcome mat. Inside were two items: one of Kiryu’s hoodies—soft, worn, and smelling strongly of maple and birch—and a folded changsan that had Suo’s clean herbal tea scent woven into the fabric like steam from a hot kettle.

Nirei brought them into the room like sacred offerings.

Sakura stared, wide-eyed and overwhelmed, as Nirei gently handed them over.

“You don’t have to,” Nirei said softly. “But they wouldn’t have left these if they didn’t want to help. If you need it—if your omega needs it—it’s okay.”

Sakura hesitated… and then slowly, delicately, brought the hoodie to his face and inhaled. His whole body sagged. The tension that had been coiling in his back and stomach all day melted just a little. He hugged the hoodie close like it was a lifeline, tears stinging the corners of his eyes from sheer relief. He clutched the changsan next, burying his face into it before folding it into the blankets beside the plush.

His nest finally felt right .

He mumbled thickly, “…they really gave me this?”

“They did,” Nirei said, watching him with soft eyes. “They really care about you, you know.”

Sakura nodded, voice trembling. “I know.”

And finally—finally—he relaxes, surrounded by the quiet proof that he wasn’t alone.

The room settled into a lull after that. Sakura was still flushed and restless, curling tighter into Kiryu’s hoodie like it could protect him from his own skin. His scent lingered thick and low—vanilla and cherry blossom, now laced unmistakably with Kiryu’s maple warmth and Suo’s soft, calming herbs. The nest held him like a cocoon, but his body still ached, his stomach rumbled faintly, and every so often, a jolt of arousal flared without warning—unwanted and confusing. He shifted against the plush, hating the way his thighs pressed together too tightly—feeling himself get wet at the smallest bits on contact.

He pressed his face deeper into the cat plush to hide the quiet noise that escaped his throat.

“You good?” Nirei asked gently.

“Fine,” Sakura mumbled, voice muffled. “Just tired.”

“Want more food?”

Sakura hesitated, then gave a small nod. “…Can I have another onigiri?”

“Of course.” Nirei stood and brought one over, unwrapping it and crouching beside him again. He handed it over without ceremony, like it was any normal day. “Tuna mayo.”

Sakura ate in silence, chewing slowly, grateful even though his stomach was still too tense to finish the whole thing. He managed half before sighing and putting the rest aside.

Nirei sat back on his heels, arms resting over his knees. The quiet held a little longer.

“…Can I ask you something?” he said at last.

Sakura didn’t answer, but he didn’t say no either. His fingers curled around a corner of the hoodie.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” Nirei asked, voice still soft, but steady. “That you’re an omega.”

Sakura stared ahead. His jaw tightened.

“I didn’t want to be treated like one,” he said. “Didn’t want people thinking I was weak. Or disgusting. Or whatever else people whisper when they think an omega’s trying to act out of his league.”

Nirei didn’t speak. He let the words come.

“I don’t want pity,” Sakura muttered. “Don’t say sorry. Don’t look at me like I’m something broken.”

“I’m not,” Nirei said calmly. “I wouldn’t.”

Sakura finally looked at him, eyes sharp, like he was bracing for something cruel. “I don’t want anyone thinking I got where I am because of sympathy . I earned my place in Bofurin. Every punch. Every win.”

“You did,” Nirei said firmly. “You’re one of the strongest fighters we have. That’s never been in question.”

Sakura’s mouth opened like he wanted to argue—but the words caught. He looked away, angry at himself for how badly he needed to hear that. Angry that it mattered .

He shifted uncomfortably under the blankets. “I still don’t want it getting around. I don’t want people looking at me different.”

Nirei nodded. “I won’t tell anyone. And honestly? I don’t think it changes anything for the guys who already know.”

“…They shouldn’t know,” Sakura muttered bitterly. “It wasn’t supposed to be obvious .”

“Look,” Nirei said, leaning forward, voice low and certain. “You could be an omega, a beta, a dragon, or a sentient toaster, and I’d still look up to you the same. You’re strong, Sakura. But that’s not the only reason I admire you.”

Sakura blinked, caught off-guard.

“You’re relentless. You fight with everything you’ve got, every time. You push yourself harder than anyone. Even now—when you’re literally curled up sweating and barely functioning—you’re still trying not to show weakness. That’s… kind of insane,” Nirei added with a sheepish laugh, “but also, like- really badass.”

Sakura stared at him. Then looked down at his own lap, ashamed of the heat still crawling up his neck.

“…Sorry,” he mumbled after a beat. “I snapped at you earlier.”

“I don’t take it personally,” Nirei said easily. “You’re not in the right mindset right now. I’d be shocked if you didn’t lash out once or twice.”

A breath of something that could almost pass for a laugh slipped from Sakura. He curled tighter around the hoodie in his arms, body still tense, scent still syrupy and frayed around the edges. The ache hadn’t gone away. His thighs pressed together again before he caught himself and shifted awkwardly.

“Thanks,” he muttered, eyes half-lidded. “For staying.”

“I told you I would.”

“Three days is a long time.”

“I let Umemiya know,” Nirei said, matter-of-fact. “I told him you were sick so I’m staying to take care of you. I think he’s suspicious though...”

Sakura turned his face into the plush. “Figures”

Nirei sighs and leans back on his palms, “I’m sorry.”

They sat in silence for a little longer. The heat still churned in Sakura’s gut, but it felt quieter now. Less like he was drowning and more like he was floating. It was still awful. He still hated every part of it.

But at least he wasn’t alone.

By nightfall, Sakura was trembling again.

The nest had been rebuilt three times already. No matter how many times he adjusted the blankets, dragged in new clothes, or tucked scented items closer, the ache inside him wouldn't go away. It was worse now. Deeper. Sharper.

His body was slick with sweat again. He couldn't get comfortable—restless and curled tightly, rocking faintly with each wave of instinctual need that left him breathless. His face was flushed red to the ears, and his thighs wouldn’t stop rubbing together under the layers.

Nirei sat cross-legged nearby, watching him with furrowed brows, chewing nervously on the inside of his cheek. “Sakura…”

Sakura didn’t answer right away. His eyes were glassy, glazed over with that unmistakable heat-haze, but he was still conscious—still himself, barely.

He blinked slowly, his lashes damp. “It hurts…”

“I know,” Nirei said gently, leaning forward. “You’ve done so good all day, but I think it’s getting worse.”

Sakura gave a weak nod, teeth catching on his bottom lip. His hips shifted again, involuntarily. Another small, muffled sound left him–frustrated and raw.

“I can’t—” he whispered, voice cracking. “I can’t take this.”

Nirei’s gut twisted. “I wish I could do more,” he said. “I don’t want to cross any lines. You’re my friend first.”

Sakura's breathing hitched. He buried his face in the hoodie Kiryu had left, fists clenched at his sides. Then, with a shaky inhale, he turned toward Nirei and met his gaze for the first time in what felt like hours.

“If it gets worse…” Sakura said hoarsely, “You can help. If you want– I mean. Just touching. N-nothing else.”

Nirei flushed red, stunned for a second—but he didn’t question the seriousness in Sakura’s voice.

“Are you sure?”

Sakura nodded once, fragile but firm. “I’m not asking to be… fixed . I just—need something .” His voice dropped. “And I trust you.”

That last part hit Nirei square in the chest. He gave a slow, respectful nod, grounding himself.

“I won’t do anything you don’t want,” he said clearly. “Leave it to me.”

Sakura shut his eyes and breathed through another sharp flare of heat. His limbs twitched. He didn’t reply.

By midnight, it got worse.

The scent in the room had thickened unbearably. Sakura's vanilla-cherry profile was syrupy now, spiked with need, damp and cloying, like it had burned itself into the walls. Nirei had opened the window hours ago, but it didn’t help much.

Sakura whimpered again, biting down on the hoodie sleeve, writhing in the tangle of fabric and plushies. “I c-can’t,” he gasped, his voice hoarse. “I can’t—I c-can’t do it—!”

Nirei crawled closer, his heart racing, but his hands calm. “Hey—hey, breathe. Sakura, look at me.”

Sakura blinked up at him, wide-eyed and unfocused.

“Do you remember what you said earlier?” Nirei asked carefully. “About letting me help?”

A beat passed. Then a barely-there nod.

“I’m gonna put my hand on your back. Just your back, okay?”

Sakura shuddered but didn’t protest.

Nirei moved slowly, brushing sweat-damp hair from Sakura’s temple and pressing a steady, grounding hand between his shoulder blades. Sakura arched toward it immediately, like the contact was relief incarnate.

A tiny gasp escaped him.

“You’re alright,” Nirei said, even though his own hands were trembling a little now. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

Sakura clung tighter to the hoodie and cried softly into it—not loud or panicked, just worn down. Frustrated. Tired. Desperate.

“I hate this,” he whispered. “I hate this so much.”

“I know,” Nirei murmured, rubbing slow circles across his back. “You’re still you, Sakura. You’re still strong. Nothing about this changes that.”

He shifted slightly, bringing the plushie he’d scented earlier closer to Sakura’s face. “Here—your omega likes this, right?”

Sakura grabbed it with trembling fingers and held it close, nose pressed into the faint scent of clean paper. Before, it might’ve been comforting—grounding even—but now it barely took the edge off. The aching heat between his legs throbbed relentlessly. His thoughts were fogged with need, his mind slipping deeper into instinct.

Nirei’s hand brushed gently across his back—an anchor in the storm of his hindbrain—but even that felt far away.

Still… it wasn’t enough.

“A-alpha,” Sakura whimpered, hips twitching involuntarily.

Nirei’s breath hitched. He scrambled slightly, searching the nest for the items left behind by their alpha friends. He found them—Kiryu’s hoodie and Suo’s changshan—and pressed both into Sakura’s waiting hands, hoping the familiar scents would soothe him.

“Sakura—is this okay? Does that help?” he asked, voice shaky. He did his best not to look at where the omega was grinding helplessly against a stray blanket, slick visibly soaking through his shorts and the fabric beneath.

Sakura didn’t respond. His face was buried deep into Suo’s shirt, desperate to inhale the older boy’s scent. He keened softly, his breath coming faster, eyes clenched shut and shimmering with unshed tears.

Nirei hovered helplessly, unsure what else to do—until suddenly, Sakura’s hand shot out.

He grabbed Nirei by the wrist and tugged him down, pulling him into the nest—on top of him.

Nirei froze.

Then, awkwardly, carefully, he adjusted himself, settl ing beside Sakura rather than directly on top of him. The omega clung tightly, burying his face in Nirei’s shoulder, grinding down against his thigh with shaky, desperate movements.

A deep blush spread across Nirei’s face as slick soaked into his sweatpants.

Sakura’s eyes were barely open, glazed over with heat, glassy with tears. His cheeks were flushed, lips parted, hair damp with sweat. He looked vulnerable. Beautiful. Completely unraveled.

Nirei swallowed hard and tried to stay steady—tried to remember this was about comfort, not want.

“I’m here,” he whispered, voice quiet but certain. “I’ve got you.”

Nirei stayed completely still at first, letting Sakura do his thing, heart pounding in his chest as Sakura clung to him like a lifeline. The heat of Sakura’s body was intense, burning even through the layers between them.

This wasn’t how Sakura was supposed to look. He was supposed to be untouchable. A force of nature. The strongest fighter in Bofurin. Not like this—curled up, desperate, soaked in pain and shame.

“Just breathe,” Nirei murmured, settling his arms around him. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Sakura shuddered in his arms, hips still moving in desperate, unconscious rhythm against Nirei’s thigh. His grip tightened. “I hate this,” he choked out, voice barely audible. “I hate being like this—”

“I know,” Nirei said softly. “You’re just… hurting. Let me help.”

Sakura whimpered again, louder this time, fingers digging into Nirei’s back. “If it gets worse… I might not be able to stop.”

“Then don’t,” Nirei said quietly, brushing a hand through his damp hair. “Only if you want. Only if it helps. Nothing you do will scare me off.”

Sakura lifted his head, eyes glassy, searching Nirei’s face like he was trying to find something solid to hold onto. His expression flickered between uncertainty and need, shame and instinct.

“Nirei…” Sakura’s voice trembled as his hips came to a stop. “Touch me. Please.”

Nirei’s breath hitched, and he nodded, voice low. “Okay.”

He inhaled shakily, letting his hand drift downward with care, moving slowly—waiting, always giving Sakura time to pull away. But Sakura didn’t.

Instead, he shifted back slightly, parting from where their bodies had been pressed so tightly together, making space for Nirei’s wanding hands.

Nirei placed one steadying hand on Sakura’s hip, rubbing slow, grounding circles. The other slipped beneath the waistband of Sakura’s sweat-soaked shorts, fingers brushing against his damp underwear.

The moment Nirei’s fingers brushed against him—even through the fabric—Sakura let out a high, broken sound, keening softly as his body jolted with need.

Nirei instinctively flinched back, alarmed he’d done something wrong—only for Sakura’s thighs to clamp down around his hand like a vice, refusing to let him pull away.

“S-Sakura,” Nirei stammered, his voice cracking under the pressure, a deep blush flooding his face and racing down his neck. “I need my hand if you really want me to touch you…”

But Sakura didn’t respond with words. He whimpered, moaned softly, and pressed down harder, grinding against Nirei’s trapped hand in desperation. The angle made Nirei’s wrist throb, caught uncomfortably—but he didn’t pull away.

He watched Sakura with wide, worried eyes—watched how flushed his face had become, how glazed and overwhelmed his expression was, tears spilling silently down his cheeks.

“Hey—Sakura, snap out of it,” Nirei whispered, his free hand reaching up to gently cup Sakura’s cheek. He wiped at the tears with his thumb, voice softening. “You’re okay. I’ve got you. Just breathe…”

He gently wrenched his hand free from where Sakura had him trapped, his fingers slick with wetness. The sensation made his heart pound.

Sakura’s tears began to fall in earnest, streaking down his cheeks as he babbled through broken, breathless pleas—desperate for touch, for relief.

“Sakura—hey, hey, I’m here,” Nirei soothed, leaning over him, voice steady but soft. “I’ve got you. I’m going to help, okay? But I need you to calm down a little. Can you do that for me?”

Sakura nodded frantically, his hips already shifting. He kicked off his shorts with shaky hands, tossing them somewhere behind him. Then he reached for the waistband of his underwear, beginning to slide them down—but Nirei caught his wrist, stopping him.

“Wait—hey. Are you sure you want this?” Nirei asked, voice hushed but firm. “Once those come off… we can’t go back. I don’t mean we have to do anything, and I’ll stop the second you say so—but just… we won’t be able to pretend it didn’t happen either. You get that, right?”

Sakura blinked at him through the haze, confused for a second, then nodded slowly.

“Wuh… yeah,” he mumbled, breath hitching. “I know. I still want…”

Nirei swallowed thickly, heart thudding in his chest. “Okay. Then I’ve got you.”

This time, Nirei helped slide Sakura’s underwear down, his movements gentle, almost reverent. The raw trust in the act settled in his chest like a heavy weight.

He swallowed hard, trying not to stare, trying not to show how much it affected him. Who wouldn’t be? Sakura was beautiful like this—flushed, trembling, clinging to the last threads of control while offering so much of himself. And trusting him of all people.

“Okay,” Nirei murmured. “I’ll do my best to help… but I’ve never done anything like this before.”

Sakura’s breath was shaky, but his voice, though quiet, was steady. “It’s okay… I haven’t either.”

For a moment, they just looked at each other—Sakura vulnerable but unafraid, Nirei full of quiet devotion. Then Sakura shifted, wordless but needing, and Nirei reached out. His fingers sliding through the wetness between Sakura’s flushed pink folds.

His hand trembled as he touched him, slow and unsure but gentle. Sakura’s breath caught as Nirei sloppily pressed down onto his clit, his brows furrowing, lashes fluttering. He was clearly trying to stay still, not wanting to overwhelm Nirei, even as his body ached for more.

Nirei focused on him—on every small sound, every twitch of movement, every choked breath. He wanted Sakura to feel safe. Wanted him to feel cared for.

Sakura trembled as Nirei gently prodded at his hole with his fingers—not pushing in just yet.

“You’re okay,” he whispered, brushing damp hair from Sakura’s forehead. “You’re doing good.”

Sakura’s eyes filled with tears—not just from need, but from the weight of it all. The pain, the heat, the raw, terrifying intimacy of letting someone see him like this. He pressed his forehead to Nirei’s chest with a trembling sigh just as a finger eased into his aching heat.

Then another followed—slow, careful, curling gently. Doing whatever made Sakura gasp, shudder, or finally exhale the tension he didn’t know he was holding. Each movement was deliberate, reverent. Nirei wasn’t rushing to fix the problem—he was simply there , staying close, helping him through.

Sakura clung to him, body taut and slick with sweat, jaw trembling with restrained whimpers. And when release finally came—sharp, quiet, breathless—Nirei didn’t let go. He wrapped an arm around his back, pressing kisses into his hairline, grounding him in something warm and safe.

The world shrank to the stillness of the nest. The low rustle of blankets. The sound of Sakura’s breaths slowly evening out.

“…Thanks,” he whispered hoarsely.

“For what?”

“For not… making me feel gross. Or pathetic.”

Nirei smiled faintly, though his throat tightened. “You could be dr ipping with pheromones and screaming at the ceiling and I’d still think you’re the coolest person I know.”

Sakura huffed, his lips twitching despite himself. “You’re such a loser.”

“Only for you,” Nirei grinned. “So don’t pass out yet. You still owe me fighting lessons, remember?”

That got the smallest, almost fragile laugh. Then quiet. Sakura’s breathing was still strained, but steadier now—with Nirei’s hand on his back, and the lingering warmth of trust settling between them.

The heat of the moment had passed—but not the heat itself.

Sakura lay boneless in the nest, limbs trembling, hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. He blinked up at the ceiling, flushed, dazed, and utterly spent.

Nirei ran a hand through his own damp bangs and exhaled slowly, heart still racing. He watched Sakura’s chest rise and fall for a long moment before reaching for the nearby towel, gently dabbing at the omega’s flushed cheeks and neck.

“…We should get you cleaned up,” Nirei said, voice low and careful. “You’ll feel better.”

Sakura nodded weakly, eyes half-lidded. “Can’t move.”

“I got you.”

He moved slowly, patiently—lifting Sakura’s body into his arms. He was warm and sticky and soft against Nirei’s chest, and for a moment, Nirei had to swallow hard past the unfamiliar pull in his gut.

The bathroom was dim, the lights softened to a warm glow. Nirei filled the tub, checking the temperature with the back of his hand. Once it was ready, he peeled off the damp tank top clinging to Sakura’s skin, eyes averted to give him privacy even now. But he couldn’t ignore how his face flushed at every glimpse of pale skin, every subtle movement of Sakura’s chest as he breathed.

He helped him into the water slowly. Sakura let out a quiet sigh as the warmth surrounded him.

“…Better?” Nirei asked.

“Mm.” Sakura sank down a little deeper, eyes fluttering shut.

Nirei rolled up his sleeves and sat behind him on the edge of the tub, taking a cup to pour water over his shoulders and back. He lathered a cloth with soap, washing gently—his movements tender, reverent. Sakura leaned into it without thinking.

“You’re really good at this,” he murmured, voice hazy.

“Only for you,” Nirei teased softly, repeating his earlier words.

Sakura cracked a smile. “Still a loser.”

For a long time, neither of them said anything. The only sounds were the splash of water, the occasional sigh, and the low hum of the bathroom light.

“…Why are you doing all this?” Sakura asked finally, voice quiet and honest.

Nirei paused. His hand stilled on Sakura’s shoulder.

“Because I care about you,” he said. “You don’t let anyone see you fall apart. And… maybe I wanted to be someone you could fall apart around.”

Sakura was quiet. But his eyes shimmered, softened.

Nirei hesitated, then reached forward and brushed damp hair from his forehead. His fingers lingered, just slightly. His chest felt too tight. Sakura was so close, so soft and open in a way Nirei had never seen from anyone before.

“You’re beautiful,” he said before he could stop himself—then blinked, startled by his own voice.

Sakura opened his eyes.

The air between them shifted, thickened slightly. Nirei felt the heat crawl up his neck, but didn’t pull away. Sakura didn’t either.

“Don’t say dumb stuff when I look like I’ve been run over by a truck,” Sakura muttered—but the faint pink on his cheeks betrayed him.

“You still are,” Nirei said. “Even like this.”

And in the quiet that followed, Sakura didn’t argue.

Chapter Text

The first hint of morning painted the walls in soft peach, casting long shadows across the disheveled nest.

Nirei stirred, stiff from the awkward position he’d fallen asleep in—half-sitting, half-curled, one arm still draped over Sakura. His back ached, but it wasn’t what woke him.

Breathing. Shaky. Wet. Not quite sobbing, but close.

He blinked against the early light and looked down.

Sakura was awake.

But he wasn’t all there.

His eyes were glassy and red-rimmed from tears, lashes clumped together. He clung to the folded changsan—Suo’s—with both arms, cradling it like something sacred. The fabric was pressed tightly to his nose, desperate, as if the scent alone could carry him through the storm inside his body.

His knees were tucked to his chest. His hips twitched rhythmically, involuntarily, slick staining the sheets beneath him in damp, shining trails.

“Alpha…” he whispered, voice hoarse and trembling. “Please… alpha, please…”

Nirei’s breath caught.

A sharp twist bloomed low in his chest—jealousy, raw and bitter. He hated the way Sakura cried out like that. Not because he needed Suo, but because Nirei wasn’t what he needed.

He wasn’t an alpha.

He couldn't scent Sakura deeply or ease the ache that made him shake like this. Couldn’t give him the kind of instinctual comfort his body cried out for.

But maybe that was for the best.

Because if an alpha were here now—if Suo or Kiryu saw Sa kura like this, pliant and begging and soaked with need—they’d be fighting instincts just to stay decent.

Nirei swallowed thickly and reached out, brushing sweaty bangs from Sakura’s forehead with a shaky hand.

“I’m here,” he murmured. “Sakura, it’s okay. I’m here.”

Sakura didn’t answer—just kept breathing hard into the changsan, grinding faintly, messily against the nest. Nirei could distantly smell Suo’s scent on the fabric—herbal tea, faint and grounding, now mixed with Sakura’s sweetness and thick heat. The changsan was damp now too. Slick had soaked into the folds of the garment, evidence of just how much Sakura yearned for him—his scent, his presence, his touch.

Nirei averted his eyes, jaw clenched.

A part of him wanted to toss the damn thing out the window. But he didn’t. He couldn’t.

He just sat there, swallowing the lump in his throat, guilt mixing with longing.

He wasn’t the one Sakura called for.

But he was still the one who stayed.

And maybe that counted for something.

Nirei swallowed hard, thumb grazing along Sakura’s cheekbone as the omega whimpered quietly into Suo’s now-damp changsan.

He didn’t know what to do with the mess of feelings tangling in his chest—guilt, frustration, that same bitter twist of jealousy. But more than anything, he just wanted Sakura to feel okay.

So he moved carefully, adjusting the blankets and crawling closer. One arm looped gently around Sakura’s shoulders. 

“I’ve got you,” Nirei whispered. “You’re not alone.”

Sakura clung tighter to the changsan, hiccuping softly, his breath hot against the fabric. His body trembled, flushed and feverish, hips shifting again with every inhale like his instincts wouldn’t let him rest.

Nirei hesitated, then gently pressed his cheek to the crown of Sakura’s head, murmuring quietly, nonsense words and soft reassurance. His hand ran slow, calming strokes along Sakura’s spine, avoiding any places too sensitive for the moment. 

It helped. Not entirely, but enough to ease the edge.

Still, it wasn’t enough.

Nirei leaned back a little and pulled out his phone with his free hand, typing with practiced one-handed precision.

N: hey sorry
N: could u maybe bring over a couple more scent things for sakura later
N: the changsan…uh…got kinda…used

He stared at the screen, face heating.

S: used???  like… you mean like used used?? 

N: yeah. he kind of soaked it.
N: he's not lucid and keeps crying for you
N: please don’t make this weird
N: he needs alpha scent

There was a pause. Then:

S: okay
S: class ends in an hour
S: i’ll drop by right after

(Back at school, Suo let out a deep exhale, meditating in his seat to keep his mind from running wild. Thank god he wore loose pants.)

Nirei let out a long breath, typing back a quick thank-you before setting his phone aside. He glanced down again.

Sakura had calmed marginally, his breathing slower now. His grip on the changsan remained tight, but the desperate rocking had stilled. His face was still blotchy, eyes still glossy and dazed—but he was safe. Still present.

Nirei reached for one of the half-warm water bottles nearby and gently unscrewed the cap. “Can you sip some for me?” he asked softly, tilting it toward Sakura’s lips.

Sakura blinked at him sluggishly, but parted his mouth.

“Good,” Nirei praised, letting him drink at his own pace. “You’re doing good.”

Afterward, Sakura curled against him with a faint, broken sigh. He muttered something under his breath that Nirei couldn’t quite catch.

“What was that?” he asked gently.

“…smells like him,” Sakura murmured, nuzzling the fabric again. “I want him here…”

Nirei closed his eyes for a second. Then leaned his head back against the wall and held Sakura a little tighter.

“I know,” he said. “Just a little longer, okay?”

Sakura let out a soft, omega whine, but attempted to settle nonetheless.

Even if it stung a little, Nirei meant it. Every word.

He didn’t have Sakura’s instinctual match. He didn’t have alpha pheromones or the kind of touch that could drive away heat like magic. But he had patience. And quiet devotion. And arms strong enough to hold his friend together until help came.

So he stayed.

Even when it hurt, he stayed.

Suo stood in front of the door with two items folded carefully in a grocery bag: a worn, loose white T-shirt and a thick charcoal winter scarf, both heavily layered in his scent. His pulse pounded hard in his throat. He hadn’t even knocked, but already the air was dense with it—Sakura’s scent bleeding faintly through the doorframe like smoke: vanilla and cherry blossom gone dizzy-sweet, tinged with desperation.

He swallowed hard.

He could smell Sakura’s heat.

And worse—he could feel it, somewhere low in his chest, in the curl of his fingers, in the way his breath hitched despite every attempt to stay composed.

Sakura’s in there, his brain whispered. Sakura needs you. Sakura wants an alpha.

The changsan had been one thing. But this? This was instinct trying to shove him headfirst through the door.

He closed his eyes and pressed his back to the wall beside the apartment instead, sucking in a few slow, focused breaths through his mouth. Count to four. Hold. Release.

You are not going in there.

His hands gripped the bag tighter, feeling the plastic crumple in his grip. He could barely think around the storm in his head. But somewhere inside it was the memory of Sakura’s voice—tired, biting, shy. So proud. So stubborn. So afraid of losing control of himself.

Suo wouldn’t be the one to make that fear real.

He knelt gently, laying the grocery bag down by the door. Then backed away without knocking.

"I'm here for you Sakura,” he murmured under his breath. 

And then he left.

A soft vibration came from Nirei’s phone—Nirei perked up from where he’d been gently brushing Sakura’s damp bangs from his forehead.

“I think it’s here,” he said quietly, easing away.

Sakura made a low noise of protest, pawing sleepily at the space Nirei had occupied. But as soon as the door opened, and the scent wafted through stronger, he jolted upright.

It was overwhelming.

Rich, herbal tea and warm skin, deep and grounding in a way that struck at Sakura’s hindbrain like lightning.

Suo.

Nirei had barely shut the door before Sakura stumbled out of the nest after him.

“Wait—hey, don’t get up too fast—!”

But it was too late.

Sakura lurched forward and tackled Nirei—if it could be called that—with all the grace of a feverish kitten. He landed squarely on Nirei’s chest, knocking the wind out of them both as they tumbled to the floor.

“Shit—ow—Sakura, what—!?”

The omega scrambled, arms reaching greedily for the bundle in Nirei’s hands.

“Give it—gimme—!”

“Okay, okay—!” Nirei wheezed, laughing breathlessly as he offered them up. “Take it! Don’t kill me!”

The moment the T-shirt and scarf hit his arms, Sakura curled around them like they were sacred. His body relaxed, sagging onto the floor like the tension had been holding him upright by threads.

He buried his nose in the scarf, a deep, instinctive sound vibrating in his chest.

A purr.

Nirei blinked. Actually blinked. Then turned a bit pink at the tips of his ears.

“You’re purring,” he said softly, sitting up behind him.

Sakura didn’t answer. Just breathed deeper, thighs curled in, whole body humming in subtle, content vibration. His fingers twisted gently in the hem of Suo’s shirt, rubbing it against his cheek like a sleepy cat.

Nirei exhaled.

“You’re ridiculous,” he whispered, smiling despite himself. And a little helplessly, he added, “...But I’m really glad you're happy.”

Sakura’s reply was a quiet, barely-there sound. One that might have been agreement. Or relief. Or maybe just another purr.

Nirei didn’t push for more.

He simply gathered a blanket and draped it over them both as Sakura sank back into his nest, kneading Suo’s scented items with clammy hands. He moaned and purred as he buried his nose into each item, breathing in deeply.

A fresh wave of slick soaked through his sweatpants—Nirei quick to move any stray fabric away from between Sakura’s legs

The washer and dryer were more exhausted than the both of them by now.

“Need me?” Nirei brushed Sakura’s bangs back with his hand, making sure to look into Sakura’s eyes as he answered.

Sakura nodded and hummed as he lied back, Suo’s scarf pressed to his face, and spread his legs for Nirei.

Nirei gulped and fumbled his way through stripping Sakura of his clothes, nervous sweat forming on his brow.

Sakura shifted the best he could to help Nirei remove his clothes, whining when air hit his aching cunt.

Nirei breathed deep and heady as he spread Sakura’s lips open with trembling fingers, gazing down at his flushed folds and aching clit.

“Are you ready, Sakura?”

Sakura blinked through his heat daze to answer clearly, “ Fucking do it already .”

Nirei nodded dazedly and began slipping his fingers through the wetness between Sakura’s legs, dragging the pads of his fingers against his clit.

Sakura keened high in his throat at the stimulation, already close to hitting his peak.

“Is this good, Sakura?” Nirei’s voice was raspier, lower than they’d both expected.

The omega shivered and bucked against the fingers smoothing over his cunt.

A quick peek at the beta above him revealed quite the sight.

 Nirei’s face was bright red, his eyes hooded and focused on where he was touching—and best of all— his cock was outlined in his plaid pajama pants, twitching with every sound Sakura made.

The sight turned him on more than he would like to admit.

His clit throbbed as Nirei suddenly stopped paying attention to it, the boy dazedly running his fingers through Sakura’s juices.

The stuff just kept flowing.

With a stuttered exhale, Nirei collected some of the wetness on his fingers, popping them into his mouth without a second thought—he probably didn’t even have a first thought, either.

A guttural moan crashed out from his throat. Eyes practically rolled to the back of his head at the taste.

Is this what all omegas taste like?

Sakura mewled and shifted his hips, searching for friction.

“F-fuck,” Nirei, despite not being an Alpha, practically growled as he dove down between Sakura’s legs.

His mouth latched onto Sakura’s dripping cunt with no remorse, sucking and licking away at the boy’s most intimate area.

Sakura moaned loudly into the empty space of his apartment. He sounded like a damn pornstar.

Nirei had absolutely no experience in this field—other than what had happened the previous day—so hearing how much Sakura was enjoying this was making his heart soar.

Sakura trembled in his grasp, attempting to grind against the betas face but being stopped by a firm grip on both thighs.

His toes curled and his eyes rolled back Nirei fucked his tongue into his virgin hole.

An orgasm ripped out of him, sudden and intense—but Nirei didn’t stop for even a second.

He couldn’t.

Sakura’s taste flooded his mouth and it was damn addicting.

The omega writhed in his grasp, pulling at Nirei’s hair.

“F-fuck—Nirei- quit it, god dammit,” He cut himself off with a high pitched moan. Overstimulation gripped him like a vice and made his stomach tense from the never-ending pleasure.

Nirei ground his hips against the edge of the ruined nest. Precum wet his boxers as his cock strained against it’s cotton confines.

His focus was on Sakura, but there was no way he could stay unaffected by the boy under him. 

Nobody could. He was just that alluring.

He groaned as Sakura gripped strands of hair in a trembling grasp. 

Nirei let his fingers push inside of Sakura as he suckled his clit, distracting the boy from the intrusion.

He shifted his fingers around until Sakura tightened around him, muffling himself with Suo’s shirt as he came hard.

He squirted right onto Nirei’s chin, clamping his thighs around the other boy’s face instinctively.

The beta let him ride his orgasm out before tugging his thighs apart, effectively freeing himself from the omega’ s hold.

Both boys panted through the thick air of Sakura’s room. Breath’s heavy and fog clearing from their minds.

“Nirei.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m gonna kill you.”

The room was quiet again—quiet in that heavy, settled way that followed after everything had crested and passed.

Sakura was curled half on his side, half in Nirei’s lap, flushed and damp with sweat, the tension finally bleeding from his limbs. His breathing was still uneven, but not from pain anymore—just the aftermath, that trembling vulnerability heat always left behind.

Nirei exhaled slowly, adjusting the blanket over Sakura’s bare legs. His fingers ran carefully through Sakura’s hair, brushing the sticky strands back from his forehead.

“You okay?” he asked softly.

Sakura’s eyes fluttered open. They were glassy, but more lucid than before. He nodded slowly, cheek pressed to Nirei’s thigh.

“Mhm.”

Nirei smiled, then leaned down to press a soft kiss to the top of his head. “Good. Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”

Sakura didn’t protest. Just hummed, tired and pliant, letting Nirei gently shift him upright. He moved slowly, supporting Sakura’s weight, helping him sit even as his knees threatened to give.

“It’s okay,” Nirei murmured, arm firm around his waist. “I’ve got you.”

The bathroom lights were dimmed to a low warmth. Nirei helped him into the bath, not too hot—just enough to soothe the ache in his muscles. The water lapped quietly against Sakura’s skin as he sank in, the edge of tension melting away bit by bit.

Nirei stayed nearby, crouched beside the tub with a clean washcloth and a small bottle of lavender-scented soap. He wet the cloth and worked in silence, gently wiping down Sakura’s arms, neck, and shoulders with slow, reverent care.

Sakura didn’t speak for a long while. Just let himself get pampered. Everything was still strange and new, but he was starting to settle into being coddled.

Sakura’s lashes lowered, damp and heavy.

“I feel gross.”

“You’re not,” Nirei said immediately, rinsing the cloth. “You’re just tired. Your body’s doing what it’s supposed to. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Sakura didn’t argue—but his face crumpled a little, just enough that Nirei reached out and brushed his thumb over the omega’s cheek again, letting his touch linger.

“You were really brave,” he whispered. “Letting me help like that. Trusting me.”

Sakura leaned into the touch, not saying anything, but the way his shoulders dropped said enough.

Afterward, Nirei helped him into fresh clothes, soft and oversized, then guided him back to the nest—fluffed and remade with gentle hands. The scarf and shirt from Suo were still there, but now Sakura curled into Nirei too, his arms loosely wrapped around his waist.

A long breath. Sakura shifted closer.

“…Thanks,” he murmured.

Nirei smiled into his hair. “Anytime.”

They lay like that in the low light, wrapped in silence. There was still pain. Still longing and heat and things unspoken. But there was also this: closeness, care, a space that felt safe.

This is nice , Sakura thought to himself.

Chapter Text

It was official, the nest looked like a warzone.

Blankets askew, pillows flattened beyond salvation, Suo’s scarf dangling off the edge like a white flag. A faint sweetness still hung in the air, but the heavy, cloying scent of heat had started to fade. The fever had broken. Sakura was breathing evenly now—clear-eyed, flushed only from residual warmth instead of desperate longing.

He stretched on the floor with a groan, arms thrown back as he popped his spine. “Ugh. I feel like I got hit by a train ."

From across the room, Nirei let out a laugh and tossed a bottle of water at him. “You look better than you did yesterday, that’s for sure.”

Sakura caught it clumsily and took a sip, then smirked around the rim. “What, not into the feverish, sweaty omega look?”

Nirei choked, turning red. “Dude—don’t do that.”

“What?” Sakura said innocently, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “You’ve seen me way worse.”

“Exactly my point,” Nirei muttered, dragging a hand over his face. “I’m still recovering from the trauma of being your heat partner.”

Sakura chuckled, flopping onto his stomach and burying his face in a pillow. “You’re so dramatic.”

A beat passed. Then:

“…Thanks though,” he added, voice softer. “I know it was a lot. You didn’t have to stay. But you did.”

Nirei looked at him—really looked at him—and smiled. It was sheepish but genuine. “You don’t leave a friend behind in a crisis. Especially not one who always has your back.”

After yesterday’s… session, Nirei helped Sakura about three more times. His fingers and mouth were a bit sore by the end of the night, but Sakura’s needy whines drove him forward.

The poor omega hadn’t stopped crying out for an alpha whenever his heat spiked. He’d even taken to begging for Suo and—surprisingly—Kiryu, too.

It was a pain to keep explaining to the feverish boy why the alphas couldn’t be there with him, but he’d done it as many times as he needed to.

“Yeah, yeah,” Sakura grumbled, but his ears were pink. “Still. I’m glad it was you.”

Silence stretched comfortably between them.

Eventually, Nirei reluctantly stood and stretched, grabbing his bag from the corner. “I should probably head home. My mom’s probably been a bit worried. She’s been asking about you, too.”

Sakura sat up, tugging Suo’s scarf into his lap. “Tell her I’m not dead.”

Nirei rolled his eyes, then paused by the door. “You sure you’re okay on your own?”

“I’m fine,” Sakura said, more confidently this time. “Really. Just tired. Gonna clean up, maybe sleep for a decade.”

Nirei hesitated like he wanted to say something else—maybe about what happened, maybe about how close they’d become—but in the end, he just smiled.

“Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow at school. Text me if you need anything. Like, even just to yell at me for fun.”

Sakura blushed, “As if I’d ever do that!.”

With a chuckle and with a final wave, Nirei left, the door clicking softly behind him.

The quiet that followed wasn’t heavy like he thought it would be. It was light. Still.

A little lonely now, without the company he’d grown so used to.

Throughout his entire heat, he hadn’t worn his scent patches even once.

It felt…nice.

His glands weren’t scratched raw, in fact, they felt soothed now.

Sakura sat in the middle of his ruined nest, tugging the scarf to his nose one more time and inhaling what little scent still clung to it. Then he sighed, laying back and staring at the ceiling.

He thought about Suo. About Kiryu. About Nirei—about the way his hands had felt when they were trying so hard not to hurt him, even while helping. About the way he whispered praise like it wasn’t awkward at all.

About how none of them had made him feel wrong .

His chest ached a little. Not in a bad way. Just… full.

He’d made it through his heat without running away to the next city. Without isolating. And he wasn’t sure what that meant yet—what to do with all the feelings knotted in his chest—but for the first time in a long while, it didn’t feel like a weakness to think about it.

Just… something to sit with.

He curled up tighter in the nest, surrounded by faint traces of his friends, and let himself do just that.

Sit. Breathe. Be.

And begin to figure things out.

The next morning, Sakura hadn’t even made it past the corner of his block before trouble found him.

It wasn’t a big deal—at least, not to him. Just a couple of guys roughing up the elderly man who ran the corner shop. Probably trying to rob the register again. Sakura didn’t think, didn’t hesitate. His body moved on instinct, all sharp elbows and calculated punches, heat-flushed instincts now replaced with hard muscle memory.

They ran off bruised and penniless.

Sakura, however, was left with a dark bruise already forming high on his cheekbone. One of those assholes had gotten the jump on him while he was distracted. It was embarrassing to say the least.

He winced as he pressed an ice pack to it, gifted by the same grateful shop owner who had always given him extra hard candies for free. “Take these, and share them with your little friends too,” the man had said, voice quaking with gratitude. “ And get that looked at.”

Sakura didn’t reply—just muttered something noncommittal and shouldered his bag before making his way to school.

Once he got there, He slipped into homeroom quietly, head down.

Kiryu was the first one to spot him, eyes immediately zoning in on his face, noticing the bruise forming there—light purple and irritated.

Kiryu always noticed.

“Sakura,” he said flatly, voice dropping an octave the moment he caught sight of his injury. His eyes narrowed sharply, “What the hell?”

Sakura had just made it to his seat when Kiryu crossed the room in two strides, grabbing him gently—but firmly—by the chin to turn his face. His hand froze when he saw the damage.

“You’re hurt.”

“I’m fine,” Sakura muttered, pulling back, but Kiryu wasn’t listening. His scent spiked suddenly despite the patches covering his glands, all burning maple and wildfire—protective, territorial.

And then his gaze landed on Nirei.

Nirei, who was just walking through the door, half-distracted by his phone, looking way too tired and faintly smelling like Sakura.

Kiryu’s shoulders tensed.

“You,” he snapped.

Nirei blinked. “Huh?”

“What the hell happened to his face?” Kiryu demanded, already moving forward, chest puffed like a storm cloud rolling in.

Nirei’s eyes widened, confused. “What—? I didn’t—!”

“You were with him all weekend,” Kiryu growled. “Don’t act like you don’t know.”

Before Nirei could even respond properly, Kiryu had grabbed the front of his shirt, not shoving him, but clearly two seconds from it.

“Back off, dumbass,” Sakura snapped, stepping between them before either could escalate. “He didn’t do anything. I got into a fight this morning.”

Kiryu faltered. “But—”

“I was walking to school. Some jerks were hassling a shop owner. I stepped in. Got punched once, that’s all.” Sakura growled low at Kiryu, his eyes stormy.

Kiryu looked at him, eyes narrowing like he didn’t quite believe it.

Sakura sighed, then, quieter: “Nirei helped me a lot this weekend. Everything was my decision. He never did anything I didn’t want.”

Kiryu's hands dropped. He froze in place, shocked by the implications of Sakura’s words. Despite his growing jealousy,he took a slow step back, shame creeping into his expression.

“…Sorry,” he mumbled, not quite meeting Nirei’s eyes. “I didn’t think.”

Nirei scratched the back of his neck, trying to shrug it off even though his ears were red. “Yeah, uh. It’s fine. I get it. Your brain’s still caveman-wired or whatever.”

Kiryu muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “Still feel like punching something.”

Suo—who had walked in halfway through the tension—stood quietly by the door, arms crossed behind his back, unreadable. His gaze flicked from Sakura to Kiryu, then finally to Nirei.

A strange silence followed.

Because, despite Suo’s general assumptions of what was going on throughout the duration of the omega’s heat, it still was a punch to the gut to have it insinuated by Sakura—whether intentional or not—that he was intimate with Nirei.

That Nirei had been the one beside Sakura during the most vulnerable, draining weekend of his life. That it wasn’t them Sakura had taken solace in. That someone else had been allowed into that moment.

Nirei could’ve stepped out while Sakura did his business, could’ve kept away whenever the omega got excessively aroused. But instead, Sakura had allowed the beta to stay—even allowed himself to be helped .

Their friend was growing stronger as a person every day, and it was amazing to see. 

Still. Despite knowing the repercussions of an alpha and an omega spending a heat together, both Kiryu and Suo felt their pride take a hit.

Kiryu stepped back to his desk and sat heavily, arms crossed, jaw tense.

Suo leaned against the windowsill, eyes flicking toward where Sakura stood beside Nirei, protective. He exhaled through his nose, too quietly to be noticed.

Neither of them said anything.

But jealousy curled like smoke in their chests, bitter and undeniable.

At lunch, their desks were grouped into their usual cluster, sunlight filtering in through the windows and glinting off half-empty bottles and convenience store wrappings. The scent of warm rice and fried snacks filled the air, faintly blending with herbal notes still lingering from Suo’s thermos.

Suo sat with his usual straight posture, fingers curled around his tea. No lunch in sight—as per usual with him. Kiryu sprawled lazily beside him, eating curry bread with all the enthusiasm of someone who hadn’t slept well but wouldn’t admit it.

Nirei sat between them and Sakura, munching quietly on a sandwich from the school store. Every now and then, his knee bumped against Sakura’s. Neither of them commented on it.

Sakura looked… better. A little tired, sure, but back to scowling at the world and poking at his tamagoyaki like it had personally offended him. He was clearly still a little displeased with the whole spectacle Kiryu had caused that morning.

"You're not eating a whole lot today,” Kiryu said, leaning his chin on his hand, tone dry but fond.

Suo chuckled, “Sakura? Our glutton? How strange.”

“You wanna go? Let’s take this outside!” Sakura hissed.

Nirei held Sakura back from lunging across their makeshift table with his arms wrapped tightly around Sakura’s middle. Kiryu couldn’t help noticing how small Sakura’s waist was, now that it was being accentuated by Nirei’s grip.

The omega actually let the beta boy hold onto him. He didn’t smash his head into his desk like he would’ve before, instead he leaned into Nirei’s touch—relaxed even. 

Almost as if it was the most natural thing between them now.

Tsugeura, bright-eyed and already on his second protein packed snack, grinned across the group. “Weirdly domestic vibe over there today. You guys start living together without telling us?”

“N-no!” Nirei flushed red in sync with Sakura, letting the omega slump back into his seat, dejected.

Then, from a few desks over, someone called out: “Hey, Nirei—did you switch shampoos or something? Or maybe…you kinda smell like an omega.”

There was a beat of silence.

Nirei froze with his sandwich halfway to his mouth. “What?”

The student laughed. “No offense, man. You just kinda smell good today. Thought maybe you got a girlfriend.”

A couple others chuckled.

Kiryu quietly bit into his bread. Suo sipped his tea without comment.

Nirei looked like he wanted to sink into his seat. “I—uh, no. I did not get a girlfriend. Or switch shampoo.”

Sakura’s face went bright pink. “Tch. Mind your own damn business, you idiots.”

The guy raised his hands in surrender, still grinning. “Alright, alright. Just curious. Didn’t think beta boys got scented like that.”

Sakura dropped his chopsticks.

“Say that again and I’ll use you to mop the hallway,” he said flatly.

Suo gave a short, quiet laugh. “He’s serious. Don’t test him.”

The teasing died down after that, and conversation shifted to a TV drama someone had watched over the weekend.

Sakura eventually picked his chopsticks back up, muttering something about idiots under his breath. Still flustered, still pink, but now chewing more aggressively than usual.

Nirei glanced sideways at him. “Sorry,” he murmured, voice low.

“It’s not your fault,” Sakura mumbled back, not quite looking at him. “People are just dumb.”

Despite the earlier embarrassment, the two stayed close. Their knees bumped under the table. 

Nobody said it out loud, but something was different now. Warmer, somehow.

Even when Sakura tried to act like nothing had changed.

Chapter Text

The afternoon sun stretched long shadows down the sidewalk as the Bofurin students made their usual patrol loop through the shopping district. Sakura walked near the front, school jacket tied around his waist, bruise glowing on his cheek from this morning’s fight. His energy had returned in full—shoulders loose, steps confident.

Nirei trailed a little behind him, phone out as he jotted notes from their earlier stops. Kiryu and Suo flanked them loosely, arms crossed or stuffed in pockets, calm and quiet—but watchful.

They didn’t say anything. Not really.

But every time Nirei stepped a little closer to Sakura, one of them would subtly shift. Suo would position himself more squarely between the sidewalk and traffic, while Kiryu would shoulder Nirei when he stepped too close to the omega, knocking him a few paces behind. Neither said a word against Nirei, but there was a quiet tension to the way they moved. The kind of dominance that came without sound—just posture, just presence.

Sakura and Nirei noticed it immediately, almost in sync.

And Sakura was pissed .

When Suo stepped just a little too close as Nirei trailed behind looking like a kicked puppy, Sakura froze.

“What the hell are you two doing?” he seethed, turning around.

Suo raised an eyebrow. “Walking?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Sakura growled. “You’re posturing.”

Kiryu blinked. “We’re not.”

“Then why are you suddenly both breathing down our necks?”

“We’re not—” Suo started.

Sakura’s lips peeled back, showing sharp canines. “Try again.”

Both alphas went still.

Sakura’s body was tense now, tailing the edge of something feral beneath his usually controlled movements. His eyes flashed with heat—with a bite of pride and protectiveness.

“I know what you’re doing. You think just because you’re alphas, you can puff up and box him out,” he snapped. “ I don’t know what the hell has gotten into you idiots, but you’re all my friends, or whatever…so stop getting so jealous that Nirei got to spend more time with me than you.”

Sakura huffed and blushed as he uttered that last line.

Look, he wasn’t stupid , alright? It was clear that both alphas were jealous of how close he and Nirei had become. They’d all been trying to get him to open up for a while now, and it must've been hard to be left out now. He understood .

That didn’t make him any less pissed off, though .

Nirei stood frozen behind him, cheeks red, unsure whether to step in or disappear.

Kiryu opened his mouth to argue, then hesitated. He looked down at the ground for a second. “…Shit. Sorry.”

Suo sighed, scrubbing his hands down his face. “I didn’t even realize we were doing it.”

“Well you were ,” Sakura said, folding his arms. “And I’m not letting it slide just because you’re alphas or whatever.”

Kiryu, at least, looked a little sheepish. Suo mainly looked stressed, and a little proud of Sakura.

Nirei finally exhaled a soft breath. “It’s okay. Really.”

Sakura turned and gave him a look. “No, it’s not. You helped me when I was at my lowest. You didn’t pull that ‘alpha knows best’ crap. You just stayed. You listened. That means something, dumbass.”

Suo and Kiryu exchanged a look, and this time, it was less possessive and more thoughtful. Quietly humbled.

Suo straightened, “Nirei. Sakura. I apologize for my behavior. I was out of line.”

Kiryu nodded, straightening up. “Yeah. No more weird flexing. Promise.”

Sakura huffed, but the tension bled from his shoulders. “Good. Didn’t wanna have to kick your asses.”

They kept walking, this time more evenly spaced. Kiryu backed off from hovering. Suo kept his pace beside Sakura but made a visible effort to stop playing guard dog.

And Nirei? He smiled faintly to himself, brushing his thumb against the edge of his notebook like it steadied him. He wasn’t an alpha, and he couldn’t compete like one, but hearing Sakura bare his teeth for him felt… good. Like he belonged.

No one said much more, but by the time they finished patrol, the air felt easier between them all. Not perfect—but shifting.

The alphas had listened.

And Sakura had made damn sure of it.

The sun was starting to set, long shadows spilling across the sidewalk as the two boys walked side by side, a quiet breeze tugging gently at their jackets. The streets were quieter this time of evening, and for once, Sakura didn’t mind the stillness.

After patrol had ended, all four boys made their way back to school to pick up their belongings and head home. This time, Nirei and Sakura went without the alphas. 

Nirei kept sneaking glances at him. Not in a nervous way—just soft, steady looks like he was checking if Sakura was still okay. Still present. 

( Still his. )

Sakura noticed, of course. He always did.

“You can stop hovering,” he muttered, eyes fixed ahead. “I’m fine now.”

Nirei smiled faintly. “You’re never just fine. You’re either punching something or brooding.”

Sakura snorted, but the corners of his mouth twitched.

They stopped at the usual vending machine near the footbridge. Sakura pressed the buttons without much thought and got the same sodas he always got. When he turned to offer one to Nirei, their fingers brushed.

Sakura didn’t pull back right away.

“...Thanks,” Nirei said, taking the can. “Feeling alright?”

Sakura looked away, blushing. “Maybe.”

They stood together, quietly sipping, the bridge above casting shadows over them. Then Sakura spoke—barely above a whisper.

“I’ve been thinking… about my heat.”

Nirei looked up.

“I didn’t mean for it to go that far,” Sakura continued, still not meeting his eyes. “But… I don’t regret it.”

Nirei swallowed. “Neither do I.”

The wind picked up for a second. Sakura’s hair fluttered. He turned toward Nirei, gaze sharp—but not defensive this time.

Sakura took a step closer, voice lowering. “People keep talking like betas are neutral. Like they don’t count in dynamics. But you—you’re not neutral to me. You’re… grounding.”

For a second, Nirei forgot how to breathe. He stared at Sakura, who—while clearly uncomfortable with how earnest this had become—wasn’t backing down. He was offering something real, raw, rare .

“I don’t know what any of this means yet,” Sakura added. “I’m still figuring it out.”

Nirei reached out, hand curling gently around Sakura’s wrist. He didn’t pull him in. He just held it, thumb brushing slow across his skin.

“I’ll stay right here,” he said softly. “However long it takes.”

Sakura finally looked him in the eye, something shaky but sure settling between them. And for once, he didn’t push it away.

It was the start of a new school day, and the air was still thick with the scent of ink, chalk dust, and faint pheromones masked under scent blockers. Suo stood near the window, a book in hand.

But his eyes weren’t on his book.

They were on Sakura , across the classroom, crouched low beside Nirei’s desk, chin on folded arms as he watched the beta scribble something into his notebook. There was a flicker of amusement on Sakura’s face, a soft glint in his eyes Suo couldn’t remember seeing before.

It wasn’t the glint he had during a fight. It wasn’t defiance, or spite, or even the smugness he wore when he was being particularly difficult.

It was something gentler.

Something like peace.

Nirei nudged Sakura’s temple with the end of his pen, and Sakura bared his omegan teeth in a fake bite—but then he shifted, pressed against Nirei’s side a second longer than necessary. Suo saw how Sakura tilted his head just slightly, exposing his neck toward Nirei in a way that, to any ordinary observer, might have looked accidental.

But Suo wasn’t ordinary. And he wasn’t just observing.

His alpha instincts flared.

It was submission. Quiet. Almost imperceptible. But intentional.

Suo lowered his gaze back to the page in his book, but the words didn’t register. His tea had gone cold.

He’d thought about Sakura nearly every day while he was gone. His scent had lingered in Suo’s items after Sakura shyly handed them back, despite having been washed very thoroughly by the omega. Suo hadn’t been able to bring himself to tuck them away just yet. He was usually a very tidy person, but the clothes had sat on his bed for longer than he’d like to admit.

He’d been telling himself it wasn’t the right time to get involved—that Sakura needed space. That things were still settling.

But watching them now—Nirei leaning in, Sakura visibly softening beside him, choosing to be close—it hit him like a punch to the chest.

It wasn’t just pheromones. It wasn’t just instinct.

It was trust.

Suo closed his eyes and took a long, controlled breath.

He couldn’t deny the heat of jealousy building behind his ribs. He wanted that closeness with Sakura too. He wanted the softness. The way Sakura reached for people when he thought no one was watching. The vulnerability behind his eyes.

But what right did he have, when Nirei was already there—already giving him what he needed?

He was an alpha. He’d always assumed there would be a place for him in Sakura’s world. But now, for the first time, he wondered if that place had to be earned .

And maybe… if he wanted it, he’d have to make room .

For all of them.

The classroom was quiet now, just the hum of fluorescent lights and the occasional thud of footsteps in the hallway beyond. Their boisterous classmates having decided to go outside today to kick a ball around the field. 

Kiryu leaned against the windowsill, arms crossed tightly over his chest, staring out at the dull overcast sky. Across the room, Suo sat in his usual spot, calmly unscrewing the lid of his thermos and taking a slow sip of tea. How the guy didn’t get tired of it, nobody knew.

The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable—but it wasn’t peaceful either.

It was full.

Of things unsaid.

“They’ve been gone a while,” Kiryu muttered after a moment, glancing toward the door.

“Mm,” Suo hummed, not looking up. “Vending machines are probably crowded.”

Kiryu made a noise in the back of his throat. “...They didn’t have to both go.”

“They offered,” Suo said mildly, as if that was enough explanation. Maybe it was.

Kiryu didn’t answer right away. He kept watching the hallway.

Waiting.

Not for the drinks.

For Sakura.

When he finally spoke again, his voice was lower, rougher. “Have you noticed it too?”

Suo glanced at him, brow raised. “Noticed what?”

Kiryu clicked his tongue, then exhaled through his nose like it physically hurt to say. “The way he looks at him.”

He didn’t have to clarify who “he” was.

Suo set the thermos down gently. “Yeah.”

Silence again.

“Thought I had more time,” Kiry u said, almost to himself. “Thought he was still figuring things out.”

Suo looked at him carefully. “He is. But that doesn’t mean he’s not finding comfort in what’s already here.”

Kiryu’s jaw flexed. “He’s submitting to a beta .”

“That beta took care of him when none of us could,” Suo said calmly. “Maybe that matters more than we thought it would.”

Kiryu flinched like he’d been slapped. Not because it wasn’t true. Because it was.

They’d both known Sakura was going through something, but they hadn’t stepped up beforehand.

They’d waited. Hesitated. Held back out of fear of not knowing how to approach him, not knowing what would set him off.

And Nirei hadn’t. Nirei was thrown into a bad situation and came out with the prettiest omega in town.

Now Sakura was softer around him. Braver, even. And Kiryu didn’t know where that left him.

Suo went back to sipping his tea, but his eyes were distant.

“I thought you’d be the first one to act on it,” he said. “But maybe you’re not sure.”

Kiryu looked down at his hands, clenched tightly against his arms.

“I’m sure,” he said finally. Quietly. “I just… I don't know how to say it.”

Suo didn’t smile, but his eyes warmed a little. “Then maybe now’s a good time to figure it out.”

The door slid open then, and Sakura’s voice rang in—complaining about the machine eating his change while Nirei laughed beside him, carrying an armful of drinks.

They looked easy together. Comfortable.

Like something was already there.

Kiryu’s chest twisted.

But this time, instead of pulling away from it, he leaned in.

“Hey,” he called out as they stepped into the room.

Sakura blinked, surprised. “What?”

Kiryu pushed off the windowsill and crossed the room in three strides, reaching out without hesitation to take a few drinks from Nirei’s hands.

“Let me carry that next time,” he said flatly. “You’re not doing all the work.”

Nirei squeaked out a small ‘thanks’.

Sakura narrowed his eyes. “...You trying to be helpful or annoying?”

Kiryu smirked faintly. “Can’t it be both?”

Suo, still watching from his desk, allowed himself the tiniest smile.

Something was shifting again.

And this time, Kiryu wasn’t going to be left behind.

The late afternoon sun filtered through the trees along the street as the group finished their patrol route. Sakura had run ahead, claiming he wanted melon soda from a corner machine that had seen better days. Nirei stood back, adjusting the sleeve of his uniform, watching him go.

“Hey,” Suo said, voice quiet but firm as he stepped up beside Nirei. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

Nirei blinked. “Uh, yeah. Sure.”

Kiryu trailed just a few paces behind, rocking on his heels. “I’ll catch up in a sec,” he said toward Suo, not quite making eye contact with either of them.

Suo motioned toward a quieter alcove just off the sidewalk — the shaded side of a closed storefront — and Nirei followed. Kiryu lingered nearby, but didn’t interrupt.

Suo stood still for a moment, composed as ever, but the muscles around his eye were tight.

“I wanted to apologize,” he said. “For how I’ve been acting around you.”

Nirei blinked, surprised by the formality. “…What do you mean?”

“I’ve been… tense,” Suo admitted. “I don’t usually let instinct get the better of me, but this time I did. And I know it’s not fair to you.” He looked down, then back up at Nirei with a careful, measured honesty. “Sakura trusts you. I should’ve respected that from the start.”

Nirei scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “I mean, it’s not like you—well, it didn’t feel personal. Just… alpha stuff, right?”

“That doesn’t make it okay,” Suo said quietly. “I let it shape how I treated you. And you didn’t deserve that.”

There was a beat of silence between them. Then Suo added, “Thank you. For taking care of him.”

Nirei’s breath caught just a little at how sincerely Suo said it. “You’d have done the same if you’d been there,” he said, his voice softer now. “But thanks.”

They both glanced back toward Kiryu, who was watching from across the street, hands shoved in his pockets and face unreadable.

“I think… he wants to talk to you, too,” Suo said.

Nirei followed his gaze. “…Should I be scared?”

Suo allowed himself the smallest smile. “Only if you’re scared of him pouting and offering you snacks.”

They parted ways with a small nod, and Nirei crossed the street toward Kiryu, who looked up quickly when he noticed.

Kiryu perked up with a sheepish grin. “Hey. You got a sec?”

“Sure,” Nirei said, stopping beside him.

Kiryu scratched his cheek. “I, uh… wasn’t really planning a speech like Suo, but. Yeah. Sorry I’ve been a dick.”

“You haven’t really,” Nirei said.

Kiryu huffed. “I kinda have. Not on purpose, but…” He glanced at the vending machine across the street where Sakura was fumbling with loose change. “I think I freaked myself out. Watching you two.”

Nirei’s brow furrowed. “Why?”

Kiryu shrugged, looking away. “You’re good for him. He trusts you. I just… realized I wasn’t the apple of Sakura’s eye, and it hurt a little.”

The honesty of it caught Nirei off guard.

“I’m not trying to take anything from you,” he said, cautious.

Kiryu shook his head. “I know. That’s the thing. You’re not doing anything wrong.” He kicked lightly at the ground. “Just wanted you to know I get it now. I’m working on it.”

Nirei’s voice came quiet. “Thanks.”

They stood in silence for a moment. Kiryu opened a pack of strawberry gummies and offered it out.

“Peace offering?”

Nirei took one. “Only if I get the good ones.”

“You’re lucky I like you now,” Kiryu muttered, grinning.

Across the street, Sakura shouted, “You losers better not be eating without me!”

Suo stepped beside him, bemused, while Kiryu yelled back, “You took too long!”

As they rejoined the group, Nirei noticed something subtle had shifted. Suo wasn’t hovering quite so close. Kiryu walked beside him, not behind. It wasn’t perfect, but it was better.

And when Sakura tossed himself onto Nirei’s shoulder with his usual tsundere huff, neither alpha reacted.

Not the way they would have before.

They simply watched.

And accepted.

The sun was low by the time they split off from the others, patrol ending with the usual scatter of small errands and excuses.

“We’ll see you tomorrow,” Nirei had said, waving off Kiryu and Suo with a grin. Sakura waved behind his shoulder in his usual fashion, not looking back, lest the boys see his red face.

Kiryu didn’t question it. Suo just gave them a glance—long, knowing—but said nothing as he disappeared around the corner with Kiryu in tow.

Now it was just the two of them again, walking side-by-side in the glow of sunset. The quiet between them wasn’t tense, but something hummed in it. Something fluttery and unsaid.

Sakura had his hands jammed in his pockets, gaze fixed on the sidewalk ahead. Nirei was fidgeting with the wrapper of a candy he'd bought but never eaten. He glanced at Sakura once, then twice, stealing those half-second peeks like a schoolkid.

“I’ve been thinking,” Nirei said at last.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Sakura muttered, not looking at him.

“Yeah, yeah,” Nirei chuckled, pushing his shoulder lightly against Sakura’s. “But I mean it.”

Sakura didn’t reply, but the tilt of his head was an invitation to continue.

“I… like you,” Nirei said, almost too fast, then slowed down. “Not just as a friend. I’ve liked you for a while. I didn’t say anything because—well, I wasn’t sure if it’d make things weird. But…I wanted you to know.”

Sakura sputtered and stumbled over his own feet.

His shoulders were tight. His ears, pink.

He didn’t turn to look at Nirei, but his voice was small and sharp. “Why would you say something like that out of nowhere?”

“It’s not out of nowhere,” Nirei said, softer now, stepping just a little closer. “As I said, I’ve felt this way for a long time. And I know you’re still figuring yourself out, and I don’t want to pressure you. But I want you to know.”

Sakura fidgeted with the collar of his shirt, tugging it tight like it could hide the blush creeping up his face.

“You’re so dumb,” he muttered.

“If you say so,” Nirei said, grinning.

“You could’ve just kept it to yourself, you know,” Sakura went on, voice growing more flustered with every word. “Now it’s just weird and—stupid and—ugh—”

“I like you,” Nirei repeated, gentler now. “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same. Or if you’re not ready.”

There was a long, silent beat.

Sakura kicked a loose pebble down the sidewalk. “I didn’t say I didn’t feel the same.”

Nirei’s heart skipped.

He looked at Sakura, hopeful. “Then…?”

“I’m still mad at you for saying it first,” Sakura grumbled, finally lifting his eyes. His cheeks were pink and puffed up in a pout. “But I… maybe like you a little. Or something. Whatever.”

Nirei’s smile softened into something tender, something glowing. “That’s more than enough.”

A pause.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Sakura said, glancing away quickly. “You’re making it worse.”

“I’m just happy,” Nirei said, bumping their hands together once. “I was really scared you’d punch me.”

“I still might,” Sakura mumbled, but his hand stayed close. Close enough to touch.

They kept walking. Just a little slower now. Rows of camellia bushes trailed their path.

At the end of the block, Nirei hesitated, a blush staining his face. “Can I…?”

Sakura blinked at him, suspicious. “What?”

“A kiss,” Nirei said. “Just a little one. Or—I mean—I can wait, too.”

Sakura looked away, face burning.

“If you do it fast,” he mumbled. “And don’t tell anyone.”

Nirei smiled so wide it nearly broke his face.

He leaned in, careful and close, and kissed him. Just a soft brush of lips, barely there.

When he pulled back, Sakura’s face was completely red.

“That was—” Sakura cleared his throat. “Fine. I guess.”

Nirei laughed under his breath. “Best review I’ve ever gotten.”

Sakura elbowed him in the ribs.

Then, quieter: “I’m the only review you’ve ever gotten, dumbass.”

But his steps stayed close. Their hands brushed again. This time, neither of them pulled away.

Chapter Text

Kiryu was sipping strawberry milk from a box when it happened.

Sakura laughed.

Like— really laughed. Not the sarcastic kind he used when someone tripped over their own shoelaces, or the smug snort he gave when he won a fight. This was a soft, bright little laugh. The kind that sounded like it surprised even him.

And it was because of Nirei.

Kiryu’s eyes narrowed just slightly as he watched them walk a few paces ahead of the group. Nirei bumped Sakura’s shoulder, grinning, and Sakura—pink in the face—shoved him back with a quiet mutter, the corners of his lips still twitching.

Kiryu didn’t say anything, just stuck his straw back in his mouth and frowned thoughtfully.

He wasn’t mad. Not really. Not jealous in the “I want to fight this guy” kind of way. Just... surprised. Maybe a little caught off guard. Like realizing a song you’ve been humming for days already has lyrics—and someone else had been singing them all along.

He liked Sakura. Okay? That wasn’t news. He liked how stubborn he was, how scrappy. How his scowl was just his version of caring, and how easily he got flustered when someone complimented him. He especially liked when Sakura got bossy. It was cute.

But he hadn’t really thought about what to do with that until now.

And Nirei—Nirei had clearly figured it out a while ago.

Kiryu let out a breath and scratched the back of his neck, watching as Sakura glanced sideways at Nirei and bit back another shy smile.

“Guess I’m a little behind, huh,” he mumbled into his straw. “That’s alright.”

He grinned after a second—light, thoughtful.

“I’ll just have to catch up.

Suo noticed the change, but he didn’t say anything. Not right away.

He watched them during lunch—Nirei sitting closer to Sakura than usual, their knees brushing. Sakura didn’t pull away. If anything, he leaned closer when Nirei offered him a bite of his sandwich, face pink but eyes warm. That had never happened before.

Suo wasn’t dense.

He stirred his tea slowly, letting the quiet swirl around him. 

He was… happy for them. Truly. Nirei was good to Sakura. He was patient, attentive, gentle in a way that Sakura needed.

But Suo also remembered the way Sakura had once clung to his changsan during heat. How his scent had been the one Sakura begged for in his time of need.

He wasn’t possessive. He wasn’t the type to act without thinking.

But that didn’t stop the quiet ache from blooming under his ribs.

They hadn’t discussed what this was—if Sakura would ever want more than one partner. If there was a place for Suo in whatever relationship was forming.

He watched as Sakura laughed at something Nirei said, his eyes soft, expression unguarded.

Suo exhaled slowly and took another sip of tea, eyes lingering just a second longer than they should’ve.

He didn’t know where this was going yet.

But he wanted to be there to find out.

It was one of those warm, golden afternoons where the sunlight slanted just right between the buildings, catching in the curls of steam that rose from Suo’s mug. The four of them were lounging outside Cafe Pothos, where they would occasionally stop at after patrol—Suo quietly sipping tea, Kiryu tapping away on his phone, Nirei babbling about whatever comes to his mind, and Sakura—

Sakura was very subtly leaning against Nirei’s side.

He wasn’t cuddling. No. That would be too obvious. But his shoulder was pressed against Nirei’s arm in a way that didn’t scream “move over,” and he hadn’t snarled at Nirei to stop hogging space either. His ears were slightly red, which only meant one thing.

Kiryu, from his side of the table, leaned forward and smirked. “So... are you guys dating now, or what?”

Sakura instantly sat bolt upright. “Wh-what? No—we’re not—! Shut up, dumbass!”

“Ohhh?” Kiryu said innocently, resting his chin on his palm. “Could’ve fooled me. You’re practically in his lap.”

“I’m not—!” Sakura started, but then promptly leaned right back against Nirei without thinking.

Kiryu’s smile widened.

Nirei, caught somewhere between flustered and fond, rubbed the back of his neck. “Um. I mean... yeah. We are.” His voice was soft, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to say it out loud yet.

Sakura went stiff. His face turned scarlet. But he didn’t argue.

Suo looked over his mug at them, expression unreadable for a second before it softened into something... almost warm. “I’m glad,” he said simply.

Kiryu blinked. “Huh?”

“I said I’m glad,” Suo repeated, setting his tea down. “Sakura looks... comfortable. It’s a good look on him.”

Kiryu studied Sakura again, watching how the omega slowly relaxed into Nirei’s side again, still red in the ears but no longer protesting. He was quiet. Maybe even a little shy. But soft in a way Kiryu didn’t get to see often.

And yeah, it made something tug in Kiryu’s chest. A flicker of jealousy, maybe. Not because he didn’t want them to be happy. But because he wanted to be part of it, too.

Still.

“Lucky bastard,” Kiryu muttered half-jokingly, nudging Nirei with his foot under the table.

Nirei chuckled, startled. “I know .”

Suo smiled faintly again and picked up his tea. “You’re doing good, Nirei.”

“Thanks,” Nirei said, a little breathless, but proud.

Kiryu turned toward Sakura and leaned in a bit, voice lowered. “Hey. You better treat him right, alright?”

Sakura rolled his eyes but didn’t pull away. “Yeah, yeah. You’re so annoying.”

But there was a tiny smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Kiryu noticed it, leaned back in his chair, and grinned. “Aw, look at you. Blushing and smiling like you didn’t want to kill me for asking.”

“Shut up,” Sakura snapped his teeth at Kiryu before promptly shoving a piece of omurice in his mouth to hide the redness creeping down his neck.

“Don’t worry,” Suo added fondly, “we won’t tell anyone”

“Thanks I guess. You guys still suck, though,” Sakura grumbled, chewing fiercely, but he didn’t move from where he was shoulder-to-shoulder with Nirei. The beta, on his end, was practically steaming, but he looked proud—and so painfully soft that Suo had to glance away for a second.

“Did I hear something about Sakura finally dating someone?” came a voice from behind.

Sakura nearly choked on his mouthful of omurice. “What the hell—!?”

Kotoha strolled over with a bright grin and a rag tossed over her shoulder. She gave Sakura a hearty smack on the back, the kind that only came from someone who knew he could take it.

“Congrats, kid! Took you long enough!”

Sakura sputtered. “God—just let the whole world know, why don’tcha!?”

Kotoha blinked innocently. “Oh… sorry! I didn’t know it was a secret.”

Sakura scowled, arms crossed, ears red. “...It doesn’t have to be.”

The quiet that followed wasn’t awkward—it was warm. Like sunlight filtering through a window, catching dust motes in the air. Nirei’s blush was still high on his cheeks, but he shifted just slightly closer, his pinky brushing against Sakura’s on the table. Sakura didn’t pull away.

Kiryu let out a low whistle. “Damn. Soft Sakura is real. Can’t believe I lived to see it.”

“I will end you,” Sakura shot back, snarling while still looking soft .

Suo chuckled at the sight.

Kotoha winked at them. “I expect free advertising. You’d pull in every lovesick customer in a ten-mile radius.”

Sakura groaned and shoved his face into his arms on the table. Nirei patted his back reassuringly.

Sakura leaned into his touch. And none of them missed it.

“ All of the grade captains and their vice captains must gather on the roof right away!”

Chapter Text

The next morning, it all started.

The sky was a clear, endless blue—the kind that made the world feel still and safe. Sunshine spilled across the quiet streets, catching on dewy windowpanes and the white petals scattered along the sidewalk from a tree still stubbornly blooming despite the season’s turn.

Sakura walked the familiar route to school with his hands in his pockets, chin tucked down against the soft breeze. His mind wandered—until the sound of pounding footsteps behind him made his ears twitch.

“Sakuraaa!”

A blur of movement.

Suddenly, Nirei appeared at his side, bouncing like a human ping-pong ball. “You left without me again! That’s the third time this week!”

Sakura blinked, startled. “You don’t even live on my route.”

“That’s not the point,” Nirei pouted, already matching his stride. “Boyfriends wait for each other. It’s in the rulebook.”

“There’s a rulebook now??” Sakura sounded shocked, trying—and failing—not to hide his blush.

Just behind them, Tsugeura and Kiryu strolled in with their usual banter. Kiryu had a hand on Tsugeura’s head, ruffling his hair into a disaster, while Tsugeura yelped and tried to retaliate by swatting at the ends of Kiryu’s pink hair.

“Cut it out!” Tsugeura snapped. “You’re gonna mess up my ’fro!”

“It was already a lost cause, man,” Kiryu grinned. “I’m doing you a favor.”

Sakura rolled his eyes. “Noisy assholes.”

Then there was Suo, trailing calmly at the rear, his hands tucked behind his back. He gave a faint nod of greeting as he caught up to the group, his eyes half-lidded, face serene.

“You all look like idiots,” he said lightly, though the small smile tugging at his lips betrayed his fondness.

The group barely made it two blocks before they were recognized.

“Ah, Bofurin boys!”

A baker stepped out of her shop, waving with flour-streaked fingers. “Morning! Thank you again for what you did near the station last week!”

A trio of schoolgirls squealed from across the street. “That’s them! That’s Sakura-sama!”

Sakura visibly flinched at the honorific, shrinking slightly into his jacket. “I hate that.”

“You’re a hero,” Nirei said smugly. “Get used to it.”

One by one, shopkeepers, pedestrians, and students nodded, bowed, or called out as the boys passed. It had become routine—this strange fame that followed them after every scuffle they broke up, every territory they defended.

Kiryu threw a peace sign at a cluster of grandmas and winked. “All in a day’s work, ladies.”

Suo took a quiet sip from his thermos, face unreadable as ever.

And Sakura… Sakura just kept walking, surrounded on all sides now by the people who had come to matter to him most. He didn’t smile, not really—but he didn’t scowl either.

It was… peaceful.

Too peaceful.

The usual school chatter buzzed through the halls—but something about it felt off. Voices were hushed but urgent, and laughter had been replaced with tight whispers. There was a nervous energy in the air, like everyone knew something he didn’t.

It puts the omega on edge instantly.

Even their classroom was abuzz with this weird atmosphere. The moment they stepped inside, a student bolted past them, nearly knocking into Kiryu in his haste.

“It’s really true!?” the boy cried, eyes wide. “This is bad… really bad!”

He kept babbling, muttering something else to his friends that Sakura couldn’t make out.

None of it made sense. Sakura growled low in his throat, frustrated.

 Just as Nirei reached out, placing a hand on Sakura’s shoulder to calm him down, the school speakers screeched to life, blaring loud.

“Gooood morning, boys! I’m just going to cut to the chase today—”

That was unusual. Normally, the idiot would ramble on during announcements. But not today.

Today was already shaping up to be a weird-ass day.

“All of the grade captains and vice captains must gather on the roof right away.”

Sakura shared a look with his friends. “Suo. Nirei.”

 He didn’t need to say more. The unspoken order was clear.

Both boys nodded—tense, understanding.

 And together, they dashed out the door, heading for the rooftop.

On the roof, a rumble of chatter buzzed through the gathered students. Every grade captain and their vice stood in clusters, murmuring in tense voices, eyes flicking between each other and the door like they were waiting for something—or someone—to break the silence.

The atmosphere was thick, far from the usual light-hearted rooftop energy. It felt like the entire school was holding its breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Even the sunlight, bright as it was, felt muted under the weight of expectation.

Umemiya stepped forward, his signature grin tugging at his lips—though it didn’t quite reach his eyes today. The easy, gentle aura that usually followed him was noticeably absent. He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, like he was trying to play it off.

“Sorry for making you all rush around this morning!”

There were a few tired huffs of laughter, but no one really relaxed.

“Anyway,” he continued, “the reason I asked you all to come here…”

He paused, and the smile finally slipped away. His voice lowered a notch, and a shadow passed through his gaze. For once, Umemiya looked completely serious.

“…Well. I’m sure most of you have heard the rumors already.”

Silence rippled through the group like a held breath.

“We received a declaration of war.”

The words hung in the air like a stormcloud.

“From Endo Yamato.”

The air shifted—sharp and electric. All around, fists clenched and jaws tightened. A pulse of tension moved through the group like thunder rolling through clouds.

“In two weeks,” Umemiya continued, his voice heavy, “he and his crew are coming back to this town to destroy Bofurin .”

The rooftop fell into heavy silence until Mizuki, one of the Four Kings, stepped forward, his expression grim.

“The battle will commence nine days from today, right at midnight.”

A wave of hushed murmurs spread through the assembled crowd. The captains and their vice-captains glanced at each other, tension rippling through their stances.

“Their goal, as written on the letter,” Mizuki continued, voice firm, “is to annihilate Bofurin. Once they've accomplished that, they’re going to return the town to how it once was. They didn’t provide any details about where they’re going to attack… so we don’t know their point of entry.”

He paused, letting the words sink in before pressing on.

“We’ll need to form a line of defense across the entire town. For us, this will be a large-scale defensive battle to protect it.”

Nirei stood near the back, scribbling furiously in a small notebook, every line of strategy committed to paper in his careful, looping handwriting.

Mizuki adjusted his glasses, tone unwavering as he laid out the rest. “For this upcoming fight, our enemies have added two rules. First: as long as they can see Bofurin members who can still fight, they will not touch the town. Which means—as long as even one of us stands before the enemy—the town remains safe.”

Suo lifted a hand, calm and polite even amid the tense air. “May I ask a question?”

Mizuki gave a nod. “Yes, you may speak.”

“Where will Umemiya-san be stationed?”

The question sparked a chorus of chatter, confusion and concern spreading like wildfire.

Mizuki quickly raised a hand to silence them. “...Umemiya-shi will remain within the school grounds. That was their second rule. If we disobey this, they will turn on the town, and begin destroying it.”

The crowd tensed. Some shouted, others muttered in disbelief.

But before the chaos could rise again, Umemiya’s voice cut through the noise—bright, unshaken.

“It doesn’t matter, though! Listen—Bofurin doesn’t exist because I’m here. Bofurin represents every one of you guys .”

He looked around at all of them, smiling wide and proud, his presence like a balm on raw nerves.

“I’m counting on you guys. Show them what you’ve got.”

A quiet fell over the rooftop—not of fear, but resolve. Spirits steadied. Shoulders squared. Even in the face of war, they had something to fight for. And they weren’t alone.

From that day on, training ramped up from a few times a week to nearly every day. Students across all grades were sharpening their fighting skills, preparing themselves for the battle ahead.

No one knew exactly what Noroshi had planned—but whatever it was, they had to be ready.

The constant tension weighed heavily on Sakura. He was on edge, distracted.

 The omega who usually wiped the floor with his sparring partners was now getting knocked down more often than not. It didn’t go unnoticed. And it was worrying, to say the least.

The sun was beginning to dip low behind the rooftops, casting long golden streaks across the pavement. Sakura sat on the short stone wall that lined the river, elbows on his knees, hands clenched tightly between them. His jaw was locked. His eyes were distant, unreadable.

Nirei hovered beside him, unsure if he should sit or stay standing. He’d never seen Sakura like this before—so quiet, so wound-up that even his usual grumbling had gone silent. It was like all the fight had been bottled up, simmering beneath his skin.

"You're gonna snap your teeth if you keep clenching like that," Nirei tried, attempting lightness as he nudged Sakura’s shoulder with his knuckles.

Sakura didn’t respond. Just exhaled through his nose, sharp and heavy.

Nirei finally sat beside him, trying not to sigh too obviously. He leaned back on his palms, eyes scanning the slow-moving water. “You’ve been off all week.”

“Gee, I wonder why,” Sakura muttered, voice low and sharp. “It’s not like we’ve got an entire gang planning to crush us or anything.”

Nirei hummed quietly. “Yeah… but we can beat them, right?”

“I don’t know,” Sakura shot back. “I’ve been getting my ass handed to me like I’m some kindergartener who doesn’t know how to throw a punch.”

“That’s not true,” Nirei said gently. “You’re tired. You’re overwhelmed. Anyone would be.”

Sakura shook his head hard, fingers twitching. “I can’t afford to be tired. If I slip during the real thing, someone gets hurt. And it’ll be my fault.”

Nirei frowned, heart aching. “That’s not fair to put on yourself.”

“Maybe not. But it’s true.”

There was a beat of silence between them. The wind rustled the leaves, and Sakura stared hard at the gravel between his shoes like they held the answer to something.

Nirei’s fingers brushed lightly against the back of Sakura’s hand—just once, a silent offer.

Sakura didn’t pull away. But he didn’t look up either.

“I know I can’t talk you down when you’re like this,” Nirei said softly, giving up the pep talk. “But maybe… I can help in a different way.”

Sakura glanced sideways, his expression guarded. “What are you planning?”

Nirei smiled faintly. “Nothing. Just… don’t go to bed too early tonight, okay?”

Sakura narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

“Just don’t. You’ll see.”

Before Sakura could press further, Nirei hopped to his feet and stretched, plastering on a casual grin. “I’ve gotta head home for a bit. I’ll text you later.”

He pressed a kiss to his temple before he started walking off, waving lazily over his shoulder before pulling out his phone and sending two quick messages.

To: Suo

hey
we're doing the sleepover thing tonight. sakura’s not doing great

To: Kiryu

you in for cheering sakura up tonight?
no excuses

He didn’t need to wait for replies. He already knew what they’d say.

The lights in the apartment were low, save for the soft amber glow of the kitchen lamp. Sakura sat hunched at his small table, one hand curled around a mug of lukewarm cocoa, the other lazily flipping through a magazine he wasn’t reading. His eyes kept drifting to the clock on the wall. It was late, but not too late. Still, he hadn’t gone to bed.

Not because Nirei had told him not to.

Totally unrelated.

He took another sip, promptly spilling a bit down his front. “Tch—dammit,” he hissed, wiping at the wet spot on his shirt with the sleeve of his hoodie.

Then—

SLAM.

The front door burst open with the enthusiasm of a natural disaster.

“WHAT THE FU—!!” Sakura nearly fell backwards out of his chair, his mug clattering against the table as he sprang to his feet in fight mode.

“Heyy~ surprise!” Kiryu chirped from the doorway, already toeing off his shoes like he owned the place. He carried a duffel bag in one hand and a plastic bag of snacks in the other. “You didn’t lock your door, dummy.”

“Because I wasn’t expecting to be invaded by loud-ass idiots!!”

Nirei ducked in behind Kiryu, grinning sheepishly. “Technically, you were expecting something. ”

“Not this. ” Sakura snapped, voice sharp—but his ears were turning red.

Suo entered last, tall and calm, carefully closing the door behind them. He nodded politely, as if this wasn’t the most chaotic thing he’d ever taken part in. “We brought food.”

“Oh,” Sakura blinked, startled by how soft that one word made him feel. “...Well. Don’t just stand there like morons. Get in.”

Nirei shot him a smug little smile as he passed by, brushing shoulders with him. “Aww. You missed me.”

“Did not.” Sakura grumbled, but he watched them all as they unloaded—bags full of overnight stuff, pajamas, mystery snacks, and Kiryu’s absurdly large pillow shaped like a frog.

It was messy. Loud. Stupid.

And something in Sakura’s chest unclenched.

He slumped onto the floor—not owning any furniture was kinda a pain—arms crossed but eyes softer now. “...You’re all so annoying.”

“We get that a lot,” Kiryu said with a wink, plopping down beside him and already digging through the snack bag.

Nirei flopped to the floor near Sakura’s feet, leaning back against him with an exaggerated sigh. “You should see your face. You’re totally touched.”

“I’m tired, you brat,” Sakura said, kicking lightly at his shoulder.

Suo set down a stack of blankets and a quiet hum escaped his throat as he shifted through his bag. 

Nirei reached up and tugged on the hem of Sakura’s hoodie gently. “We’re staying tonight. Deal with it.”

Sakura rolled his eyes—but didn’t argue. His pack was here. It was safe. And the battle could wait for one more night.

“…Fine,” he muttered. “But if any of you snore, I’m kicking you.”

Kiryu gave him finger guns. “Worth it.”

The apartment felt brighter now, despite the late hour. The clutter of shoes near the door, the blankets scattered across the floor, and the half-empty bags of chips on the small table made the space feel alive in a way Sakura hadn’t realized he’d missed.

Suo, of all people, had suggested cards. Somehow that had turned into a full-blown game night, and now Sakura was glaring down at a losing hand for the third time in a row.

“How do you keep winning?” Sakura hissed, eyes narrowed at the ever-serene alpha seated across from him.

Suo merely smiled, eyes lidded and calm as always, like he’d just come out of a hot spring. “Luck,” he replied, laying down a perfect sequence of cards.

“Liar!!” Sakura lunged forward—but was stopped mid-pounce by Nirei grabbing him from behind in a gentle bear hug.

“Whoa, whoa—down, killer!” Nirei laughed, arms wrapped snug around Sakura’s middle. “You can’t maul him just because he’s better at poker!”

“He’s cheating! I feel it!” Sakura grumbled, ears red with frustration and cheeks slightly puffed.

Kiryu, sprawled on his stomach with his phone, burst into laughter. “I have to get this,” he said, snapping a few photos with glee. “Sakura, you're adorable when you’re losing your mind.”

“Delete that or I swear—!”

“Nope.” Kiryu grinned, turning his phone protectively away. “This one’s going on the memory wall.”

As the rounds went on and the laughter grew, the tension slowly bled from Sakura’s shoulders. It was the first time in days that his body didn’t feel like it was vibrating with static. Maybe it was the familiar sound of his friends’ voices, the warmth of the apartment, or the quiet, grounding pressure of Nirei's touch when he stayed close—but mostly, it was the scent.

With no school to mandate scent blockers, the air was soft with it—faint jasmine from Suo, crisp pine and maplewood from Kiryu, and a clean paper sweetness from Nirei. Mixed together, it was calming. Protective. Homey.

All of it surrounded him… and Sakura’s own scent—muted vanilla and cherry blossom—still masked beneath his patch, lingered faintly beneath it all, grounding him without drawing attention.

Kiryu leaned back and stretched with a groan. “Man, this is the best. Can we do this every week?”

Suo gave a quiet chuckle. “We’d have to rotate whose house gets wrecked.”

“I vote not mine,” Sakura muttered, even as he leaned back into Nirei’s shoulder with barely a protest.

Nirei didn’t say anything—he just smiled down at him, heart aching in a good way. Sakura’s weight against him was warm and trusting. It made him feel… important. Chosen. Like no matter who else entered the picture later, this moment belonged to them.

Suo caught the look. He didn’t say anything either, but something in his expression softened.

It wasn’t a competition.

Not anymore.

They were building something. Something messy and imperfect, but solid. There was no doubt—they all loved Sakura, and whether the boy knew it or not was up for debate..

“Hey,” Kiryu murmured suddenly, phone now forgotten. “I’m really glad we came.”

Sakura blinked, startled by the sincerity, and looked away. “…Yeah. Me too, I guess.”

The evening had begun to wind down. The game cards were scattered across the floor, forgotten, half-covered by empty snack wrappers and crumpled napkins. Suo was carefully folding the extra blankets on the floor while Kiryu dimmed the lights, humming tunelessly as he wandered between tasks.

Sakura had changed into his usual sleepwear—soft pants and a loose hoodie—and was curling up on one side of the nest they'd made in his room. It was the biggest one he’d ever made, and he was proud of how it turned out.

Nirei settled beside him, close enough to touch but not crowding him, while Kiryu sprawled out dramatically and Suo moved with his usual quiet poise.

Then, in the dim light, Suo’s voice cut through the soft rustle of settling limbs.

“Sakura,” he said gently, “you know… you don’t have to keep your scent patches on while we’re here. Not at home. You’re safe.”

Sakura stiffened. He looked up at Suo, then away quickly, gaze falling to the blankets bunched in his lap.

“I… I always wear them,” he mumbled.

The room quieted. Kiryu glanced up from where he was laying, suddenly alert. Nirei shifted, his brow furrowing.

“Always?” Suo repeated, voice still calm but slower now, concerned.

Sakura nodded, fingers picking at a loose thread in the fabric of his sleeve. “Except… when I’m showering. Or during my heat. But that’s it.”

There was a beat of stunned silence.

“Even when you’re alone?” Nirei asked softly.

Sakura nodded again.

Kiryu sat up, his playful aura gone. “Dude, that’s… not good. Your scent glands—”

“I know.” Sakura’s voice was clipped, defensive—but then he bit his lip, and it wavered. “I know it’s bad. But if I don’t wear them, people know. They smell it. And I don’t want that. I don’t want to be treated differently. Or looked at weird. Or—” he clenched his fists, trying to squash down the wobble in his throat, “—or targeted.”

His friends didn’t rush to fill the silence. They didn’t argue or pressure him. They just sat with it. With him.

Finally, Nirei shifted closer, his voice low and steady. “We get it. You’ve been doing what you needed to do to feel safe.”

“But,” Suo added, sitting down across from Sakura with his hands folded together neatly in his lap, “we want you to feel safe with us too. You don’t have to hide anymore. Not here.”

Sakura looked at him. Then at Kiryu, who gave him the smallest nod. Then at Nirei—whose expression was gentle and a little sad, but full of unwavering trust.

“You sure?” Sakura asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“We’re sure,” Kiryu said. “And if anyone even thinks about messing with you outside of here, they’ll have to go through us.”

Slowly, with trembling hands, Sakura peeled back the patch on his wrist. Then the other. Then, hesitating, the ones on his neck.

The air shifted immediately. The room filled with soft notes of vanilla and cherry blossom—Sakura’s scent, faint but unmistakable. Sweet and fresh and a little wild underneath, like cracked branches and warmth from the sun.

But more than that, all three of them saw it.

The angry red marks at his scent glands. The irritation. The small, faded scars where he’d scratched too hard.

Nirei inhaled sharply. Kiryu’s face fell. Suo’s jaw tightened ever so slightly, his fingers curling into his palms.

“Jesus…” Nirei whispered, reaching for Sakura’s hand. “You’ve been hurting like this all this time?”

“I didn’t think it was that bad,” Sakura said, trying for a shrug—but his voice cracked.

Kiryu scooted closer, not touching him but there, ever-present. “It’s okay, idiot. Let us help now.”

Suo was the one who stood, sliding his bag over and digging around for something. In his hands he revealed a balm. “This should help the irritation.”

Sakura blinked at it. Then slowly lifted his chin, exposing his throat just slightly.

Suo paused. “Can I?”

“…Yeah.”

The alpha knelt beside him and applied the salve with quiet, gentle fingers. Nirei handled his wrists, careful not to touch too hard. Kiryu brought over water and a clean cloth, staying close.

No one spoke for a long time.

But Sakura relaxed visibly. His shoulders eased. His eyes blinked slower, heavier, until finally, he lay down in the nest, scent open and undiluted, as if for the first time in his life.

And surrounded by them—his beta, his alphas, his pack—he felt safe.

“Thanks,” he murmured sleepily.

“You don’t have to thank us for loving you,” Nirei said softly.

“Who said anything about love?” Sakura grumbled halfheartedly, face already buried in a pillow.

Kiryu laughed. “Sure, sure.”

And as the lights dimmed fully and the quiet of the night crept in, the room stayed warm—safe—full of something unspoken, but growing stronger by the day.

The sun hadn't even crested fully over the rooftops when Suo awoke, as he always did, in the quiet hush before dawn. Pale light seeped through the curtains, casting soft amber shadows across the apartment. The others were still asleep, their quiet breaths syncing with the stillness of the room.

He moved with care, slipping from beneath his blanket and rolling his shoulders before turning toward the large nest. His gaze landed first on Sakura—and softened instantly.

Sakura, curled up close to Nirei, had all but draped himself over the beta sometime during the night. One arm was slung possessively around Nirei’s waist, face tucked into the crook of his neck, nose pressed close where Suo imagined Nirei’s scent was strongest. His scent—vanilla and cherry blossom—was no longer faint but rich, layered now with the fresh-paper calm of Nirei’s and the residual comfort of Kiryu’s sun-soaked musk. It made the air feel lived-in. Like home.

Suo smiled to himself, the corners of his eyes creasing gently.

Padding softly across the tatami, he stepped into a sunlit corner near the window and folded himself down into his morning meditation pose. The mingled scents settled around him like a blanket, grounding and quiet.

He let his breath flow naturally, eyes closed, body still.

And in the quiet... his mind wandered.

He imagined more mornings like this. Quiet ones, where they’d wake together in shared warmth. Kiryu stumbling out of bed with bedhead and sleepy jokes. Nirei fumbling around and whispering half-coherent good mornings. Sakura pretending to grumble about people being too close while pressing in closer anyway.

He imagined a place of their own. A home. Maybe a bigger one, with windows that opened wide to let in the scent of flowers. With rooms where laughter echoed easily and nobody ever had to hide. Maybe, someday… a family. Something whole.

His eyes opened, and the warm light bathed his face.

He sighed out slowly. Too soon, Suo. But the thought stayed with him, golden and light.

Then—

SMACK.

“G-Gah, what the hell—!?”

“OW—Sakura! That was my face! ”

“Oh shit—sorry! I didn’t mean—why were you so close to my hand?!”

“I was literally sleeping, you menace—!”

Suo blinked out of his trance just in time to see Nirei rolling dramatically away from Sakura, clutching the side of his head. Kiryu groaned from across the room, dragging a pillow over his face.

“Why is it always you causing the violence, Sakura?” he mumbled.

“I was asleep too! It was an accident! ” Sakura protested, his hair sticking up in wild tufts, hoodie slipping off one shoulder as he sat up to glare at everyone with a red face.

Suo let out a quiet laugh and stretched. “Well, good morning.”

Nirei sat up, hair mussed, grumbling but alive. “Barely,” he muttered, though he was already scooting back over toward Sakura without thinking.

Kiryu sat up too, yawning and grinning. “I better get that on camera,” he said, reaching for his phone with a glint in his eye.

Sakura’s blush deepened instantly. “ Kiryu, I will kill you. ”

“Nope. Evidence. For when you pretend you don’t cuddle like a needy kitten.”

“I’ll kill you.”

Suo stood and moved toward the kitchenette, plucking the kettle from the stove with calm ease. “I’ll make tea,” he said. “But only if nobody murders each other before breakfast.”

The sounds of bickering turned into laughter, warm and tangled and real.

And as Suo prepared the tea with practiced hands, that fragile vision in his head felt less like a dream—and more like something that might really happen.

If they kept walking forward like this, one step at a time, maybe—just maybe—it was a future waiting for them.

The morning air was cool and crisp, the first hints of spring winding through the quiet streets. The boys walked in a loose cluster toward school, the early sun painting gold along the tops of buildings and glinting off the morning dew.

Tsugeura joined them halfway there, bounding up with his usual energy and immediately launching into a dramatic retelling of how he “almost forgot what day it was and nearly showed up to school in his pajamas.”

Kiryu laughed loud and shameless, Suo raised a brow and offered a small, amused smile, and together they all slipped into the rhythm of easy chatter and teasing.

But a few paces behind them, Sakura and Nirei walked more slowly, shoulders brushing now and then, wrapped in a world that felt like just the two of them.

“Hey,” Sakura said suddenly, voice softer than usual.

Nirei looked over at him, surprised by the quietness. “Hm?”

Sakura didn’t meet his gaze right away. His eyes were on the ground, hands shoved into the pockets of his school jacket. “Thanks for cheering me up last night. I—I didn’t realize how much I needed that until you guys showed up.”

Nirei smiled gently, eyes crinkling. “We just wanted you to feel better. I mean… you’ve been carrying a lot.”

Sakura scowled a little, more at himself than anything else. “Still. I guess what I’m trying to say is… thanks. You especially.”

They stopped walking at the edge of the sidewalk as the rest of the group  walked ahead of them, still deep in conversation. Sakura hesitated, then slowly pulled his hand from his pocket and tugged at the edge of the scent patch on his wrist. The adhesive peeled slightly, just enough for a soft wisp of vanilla and cherry blossom to slip free.

He stepped forward and leaned up, just barely, to press his nose against the side of Nirei’s neck—right beneath his ear.

A gentle inhale. A flicker of his tongue against warm skin. He quickly wiped his scent gland around where he licked, spreading his scent lightly on the area.

Then Sakura pulled back, face flushed, and immediately slapped his scent patch back into place like he hadn’t just done something completely and utterly bold.

“You—! You better be grateful, okay!?” he barked, face already beet red. “That—That was me claiming you, dumbass! You’re mine now, so don’t go around smelling like anyone else!”

Nirei stood frozen for a moment. His cheeks flushed red and his hands twitched by his sides. Then, with a soft, watery laugh, his eyes filled with tears.

“Hey—what the hell?! Why are you crying?” Sakura huffed, half-worried, half-panicked. “You better not cry just ’cause I—”

“I’m not crying!” Nirei sniffled, swiping quickly at his cheeks. “I just—this means a lot, okay? I mean… you didn’t have to—”

“Shut up! I wanted to!” Sakura yelled, face hot enough to fry an egg on.

Up ahead, the rest of their friends turned at the sound of his shouting.

Kiryu blinked, then elbowed Suo with a smirk. “Looks like those lovebirds had a moment.”

Suo glanced back and, upon seeing Nirei wiping his eyes while Sakura stood stiff as a board beside him, face as red as a tomato, he smiled softly.

“It’s sickeningly sweet,” he grinned.

Tsugeura threw a hand in the air. “Hey! Sakura! Don’t get all lovey-dovey back there without us!”

“Shut the hell up, Tsugeura!”

“Aw, c’mon—let me be a little part of the romance!”

With exaggerated groans and laughter, the group waited as Sakura and Nirei caught up, the two walking in silence for a few steps—until Sakura bumped Nirei’s shoulder with his own.

“…You really cried?”

"I'm an emotional wreck,” Nirei said, smiling sheepishly.

“You’re embarrassing.”

“You like it.”

“…Maybe.”

They reached the gates just as the bell rang.

And though the day ahead would be long, filled with tension and training and the looming threat of war, right now—just for a while—everything felt warm.

Everything felt right.

The sparring mats were worn down from constant use, but the tension that hung in the air today wasn’t from physical exhaustion. It was sharp, electric—just like the look Ren Kaji gave Sakura as they stepped into position.

“Try not to hold back,” Ren muttered around the sucker in his mouth, tugging his sleeves up as he rolled his shoulders. His eyes were hard, unreadable. Confident, yes—but there was something else, something heavier.

“I don’t,” Sakura replied flatly, cracking his neck and lifting his hands.

Their fists clashed fast. Kaji was a second-year, an alpha with solid technique and years of discipline—but Sakura was fast, feral, sharp at the edges. The crowd of trainees fell away from Sakura’s mind as his body moved on instinct.

But then—Ren caught Sakura off guard.

A shift in weight, an accidental twist of their footing—and suddenly Ren was too close. His body pressed flush to Sakura’s, and his face dipped accidentally, brushing near the slope of Sakura’s throat—right over the subtle warmth of his scent glands.

Time slowed for a second. Sakura’s body stiffened, and Ren froze.

There was a faint scent—barely even there, but undeniably omega .

A confused spark lit in Ren’s eyes. His breath caught. He didn’t mean to smell it—but instinct didn’t care. For one fleeting moment, the alpha in him stirred.

Sakura felt it.

And he hated it.

With a fierce growl, he shoved Ren away, pivoting low and catching him across the ribs with a hard, punishing kick. Ren staggered with a grunt, grip faltering.

Kiryu stood up halfway from where he was slouched over on the sideline, taking a break. Suo tensed, he didn’t move, but his eyes sharpened, reading everything.

Ren recovered quickly, but his stance hesitated.

“You okay?” he asked, brows furrowed—tone uncertain, but not mocking.

Sakura’s eyes burned. “Don’t ask me that.”

Then he lunged again, not giving Ren a chance to think, question, or smell anything else. Every blow that followed was fast and unforgiving, sharp enough to shake the doubt out of both of them. Ren blocked, staggered, dodged—until finally, he slipped, and Sakura had him pinned flat on his back, arm twisted behind him.

The tension broke.

Sakura let him go with a small huff, stepping back. “I win”

Ren sat up slowly, breathing hard. His eyes lingered on Sakura—not with challenge, but with the weight of something unspoken. But in the end, he didn’t say a word about what he might’ve smelled. Didn’t ask. Didn’t guess.

Just nodded once, quiet.

From the sidelines, Kiryu’s fists had clenched, jaw taut. Suo hadn’t moved at all, but he stood as soon as Sakura walked off the mat. Both alphas fell in beside him wordlessly, like twin shadows.

“You good?” Kiryu asked low.

Sakura gave him a look—annoyed, embarrassed, a little tired. “I’m fine.”

“You sure?” Suo pressed, calm as ever, but his tone gave away the undercurrent of concern.

Sakura rolled his eyes and bumped them both with his elbows. “I just kicked his ass. Did you miss that?”

“Not at all,” Kiryu grinned, tension bleeding from his shoulders. “Looked like you nearly broke him.”

“Good.” Sakura rubbed his neck, cheeks slightly flushed as he turned toward where Nirei had his stand of water jugs and cups, handing out water to the fighters.

“Let’s go.”

The two alphas shared a glance, something silent passing between them.

He was okay. Still their Sakura. Still stronger than anyone here.

But even so… Suo shot a quick look at Ren, not quite glaring, but the look was definitely menacing. They couldn't ignore what just happened.

And neither could Ren—who remained seated on the mat, frowning at his hands, silent.

An hour of training slipped by in a blur of sweat and movement. By the time it ended, the boys were dragging themselves toward the locker room, breathless, gym clothes clinging to their skin from exertion.

Sakura and Nirei, as usual, lingered behind.

It had become a quiet routine between them. While the others rushed ahead—Kiryu chattering, Tsugeura bouncing with residual energy—Suo walked behind them, offering a polite nod to Sakura but veering toward the main locker room with the others.

Ever since the truth came out, Suo had stopped changing in the private alcove with Sakura and Nirei. It didn’t sit right with him anymore. He was an alpha, and Sakura was… an omega. One he respected deeply.

He was a gentleman, through and through.

Nirei rambled on about something beside him—probably a new video game he wanted to show him later—but Sakura only half-listened, arms crossed, expression unreadable as they waited outside the locker room.

Inside, the echo of voices and running showers slowly faded.

When the door finally opened, Umemiya stepped out, towel around his shoulders, hair still damp from the rinse. His usual grin was absent.

His eyes fell on Sakura instantly.

Sharp.

Knowing.

Sakura averted his gaze, jaw twitching.

Umemiya said nothing. Just passed with a look that lingered a moment too long.

He’d figured it out. Maybe he’d known for a while.

And now he was worried.

Not angry—never that—but concerned. About Sakura’s comfort. 

Even with scent patches masking it, there were always signs—things only someone like Umemiya would pick up on. 

The subtle ways Sakura avoided crowded spaces. The way he never changed with the rest of them. How he was always just a beat too tense around unfamiliar alphas.

 And Umemiya worried. Because even hidden, a truth like that could become heavy to carry.

But he didn’t speak it aloud. Just let his gaze linger for one thoughtful moment before walking away, towel draped over his neck.

One by one, the rest of the students began filing out of the locker room. 

Tsugeura was first, laughing at something Kiryu said. Kiryu followed close behind, dripping from a quick shower and using a towel to dry his hair. Suo emerged next, calm as ever, giving Sakura a brief, quiet glance before continuing on his way with the others.

Sakura waited.

He always did—until the coast was clear, until he was sure no one else was inside. His fingers idly picked at the seam of his wrist patch as Nirei stood beside him, unusually quiet now.

When the last student exited the locker room, the door swinging shut behind them, Sakura finally moved.

He stepped forward with a slight slouch in his shoulders, muttering a faint, “…Let’s go.”

They entered the empty room together, the faint scent of eucalyptus cleaning spray still clinging to the tile floors. The echo of their footsteps was all that filled the space now.

As Sakura slipped out of his shirt, the soft rustle of fabric barely echoed in the empty locker room. The cool air hit his skin, raising goosebumps, and just as he reached to unfasten his pants, he felt a presence behind him.

His body moved on instinct—muscles coiling, shoulder twisting to throw a punch—

Until a familiar warmth wrapped around him from behind. Arms. Steady. Reassuring.

Unmistakably Nirei’s.

Sakura froze—then let out a quiet, reluctant exhale, his tense frame melting backward into the embrace. The contact grounded him. He leaned his head back slightly until it touched Nirei’s shoulder, eyes closing with a soft, barely audible purr rumbling in his chest.

Nirei didn’t speak right away. He just held him, letting the silence wrap around them like a shield. His breath was warm against the shell of Sakura’s ear when he finally whispered:

“…I heard about what happened. With Kaji.”

Sakura tensed again, like someone had struck a nerve. His back stiffened, brows drawn low in irritation—or maybe embarrassment.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” he muttered, voice low and sharp around the edges. “He just got too close. I wasn’t—thinking.”

But Nirei shook his head against him and gently began running his hands up and down the sides of Sakura’s torso, slow and grounding. From hip to ribcage, his touch was soft, just firm enough to remind Sakura he was safe.

“I know,” Nirei said simply, brushing his thumbs against the dip of Sakura’s waist. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Sakura’s tension slowly bled out of him again, his shoulders slumping forward just a little. The repetitive motion of Nirei’s hands—up, down, up, down—lulled his thoughts into a quieter rhythm.

“…You’re too good at this,” he muttered, cheeks tinged faintly pink. “It’s annoying.”

Nirei chuckled lowly behind him. “You say that like you’re not purring in my arms.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“…Shut up.”

But his tailbone stayed resting against Nirei’s hips, his head tilted comfortably against his shoulder, and that purr didn’t stop. Not even once.

Nirei shifted his hands higher, meaning only to steady himself as he started to pull away—until his fingers caught on a sensitive nipple, causing Sakura to shudder into his touch. The contact was brief, accidental, but Sakura’s breath hitched in his throat. He leaned back into Nirei without thinking, seeking the comfort of his warmth, his scent, his presence.

It wasn’t overt. It wasn’t desperate. Just a quiet, aching want.

Nirei froze behind him, wide-eyed, his heart pounding as Sakura pressed a little closer. There was something vulnerable in the way Sakura moved, in the way he didn’t look at him, only let himself be held—like admitting his need without words.

“I—sorry,” Nirei whispered, barely audible.

Sakura didn’t say anything for a moment. Then, in a rare, shaky voice: “Don’t go yet.”

And just like that, Nirei’s arms were around him again, gentler this time.

Sakura ground his hips in a slow motion against where Nirei was most sensitive.

Nirei sucked in a sharp breath, his whole body going rigid as a jolt ran straight down his spine.

One heartbeat, he was standing behind Sakura—warmth pressed to warmth, breath shallow—and in the next, Sakura had turned, crowding him back against the cool metal of the lockers. His hands trembled where they’d found purchase on Nirei’s chest, and then his mouth was brushing tentatively along the side of Nirei’s neck—soft, unsure, but deliberate.

Nirei’s mind blanked. There was no way this was real. He must’ve passed out mid-spar and was dreaming, because Sakura—grumpy, sharp-tongued, untouchable Sakura—was the one initiating such a scene. Touching him like that. Seeking him.

It was clumsy. Shy. So unlike Sakura’s usual bravado. And yet, it was him, undeniably so. All the more intoxicating for how genuine it felt.

Heat curled in Nirei’s stomach, but what took him most by surprise wasn’t the kiss, or the closeness—it was the way Sakura trembled slightly, as if bracing himself to be pushed away.

Like this was a risk.

Like Nirei could say no.

He wouldn’t.

Not when Sakura looked at him like that.

Not when Sakura chose him.

Nirei’s hand rose slowly, fingertips brushing along Sakura’s jaw before he gently cupped his chin, tilting his face up.

Their eyes met—Sakura’s wide and dazed, Nirei’s flushed and full of something careful, something reverent.

Then, without a word, Nirei leaned in and kissed him.

It was soft. Unhurried. Nothing demanding—just lips pressing gently to lips, warm and patient. A promise rather than a question.

Sakura let out a shaky breath, his knees nearly buckling. Heat bloomed low in his stomach, spreading like wildfire. It was embarrassing how quickly it got to him—how his body responded before his mind could catch up—but it felt so good.

Nirei’s hands slid down to rest at his waist, thumbs stroking slow circles against his skin. Anchoring him. Holding him steady.

Sakura didn’t feel tense. He just felt wanted. Safe. Chosen.

Sakura’s cheeks flushed a deep pink as he shifted, thighs brushing together in a subtle, restless motion. Nirei noticed—how could he not? Every small movement felt like a magnet drawing him closer.

“More?” Sakura whispered, his breath ghosting over Nirei’s lips.

A low sound escaped Nirei before he even realized it, and his head fell bac k against the locker with a muted thunk . The sharp clang echoed through the quiet room, but he hardly felt it.

“God, Sakura,” he breathed, voice strained, overwhelmed.

Sakura’s fingers slid into Nirei’s, lacing together without a word. For a moment, it was just a gentle touch—until Sakura tugged his hand downward, guiding it with quiet insistence.

Nirei’s breath caught. “Sakura…?”

But the omega only looked at him with wide, flushed eyes, biting his lip in that way that always undid him. Nirei didn’t resist—couldn’t, even if he tried. His hand followed where Sakura led, lower and lower, until the air between them seemed to hum with heat.

A slow blush crept up Nirei’s neck as his hips shifted of their own accord, a heavy warmth blooming in his gut. His voice came out hoarse. “You sure?”

Sakura gave the tiniest nod, cheeks aflame, and pressed in closer—wordless, but certain.

Sakura's breath hitched as Nirei’s fingers brushed the edge of his waistband, slipping just beneath it with tentative care. He let go, wordlessly giving permission, his hands trembling at his sides.

Nirei’s touch grew more assured, easing the fabric lower for better access. A soft, broken sound escaped Sakura—quiet but unmistakably pleased—as his body arched instinctively into the warmth of Nirei’s hand.

Nirei shifted with him, trying to keep steady, though his cheeks burned crimson. He swallowed hard, barely managing to whisper, “You’re... really something, you know that?”

“Hm?”

Nirei chuckled, “Nevermind.”

Sakura mewled high in his throat as Nirei slid his fingers through the wetness between his legs, softly pinching his clit and soothing it with a gentle caress.

He shifted his hips, discovering how pleasurable it was to press against Nirei’s fingers, and repeated the motion. Eagerly, he continued to grind against Nirei’s fingers, seeking his peak.

He whimpered at the contact, then his eyes zeroed in on the outline visible in Nirei's pants. His hands hesitantly moved forward, gently tracing the shape of his bulge. Nirei gasped, jerking slightly at the touch, causing his hands to pause, which made Sakura whimper high in his throat.

"Sakura... are you sure?" Nirei's cheeks flushed deeply, his breath coming in short gasps from the sensation.

Sakura shyly met his gaze and nodded, "Mhm."

"Fuck..."

Sakura's eyes widened in scandalized shock. "You can cuss?"

Nirei's face flushed a deep crimson, his eyes rolling with a mix of embarrassment and defiance. "S-shut up."

But before Sakura could tease him further, a moan escaped his lips, raw and unrestrained, as Nirei plunged a finger into him with an unexpected intensity. 

The relentless rhythm of Nirei's touch sent waves of pleasure coursing through him, his body writhing, unable to resist the overwhelming sensation. He leaned heavily against Nirei, his legs trembling, barely able to support him as the pleasure mounted.

"When did you get so—ah fuck—good at this?"

Nirei stammered, his voice barely a whisper, "I did some research..."

"Pervert," Sakura breathed, the accusation mingled with a thrill of desire.

Sakura's hand quivered as he reached for the zipper on the Beta's pants, asking softly, "Is this okay...?"

Nirei closed his eyes tightly and gave a shy nod.

Sakura pulled the zipper down, and with Nirei's help, they pushed his pants down to his thighs. Sakura then slid his boxers just enough to reveal his erection.

Nirei, while being touched, clumsily reciprocated, feeling a fiery sensation coursing through him. He paused and let out a low groan as Sakura finally touched his aching need.

The omega was familiar with the concept of a dick, but he’d never seen one in person before. He was unsure about how to even approach touching it. Observing his uncertainty, Nirei softly raised Sakura’s chin with his free hand, meeting his gaze.

“You don’t have to do anything if you’re not comfortable. I’m fine as we are.”

Sakura shook his head and, with a hint of hesitation, ran his fingers lightly along the length, causing Nirei to tremble.

“I want to...I just don’t really know how to, uh, touch it. Y’know?”

Nirei chuckled softly into his hand, trying not to embarrass Sakura any further, though his efforts were in vain as Sakura's cheeks turned a deep shade of red from the teasing. 

Gently, the beta boy withdrew his fingers from between Sakura's legs, causing a soft whimper from him at the sudden absence. With the slickness on his hand, he spread it across his length, shivering as he began to pump while Sakura watched, almost spellbound. 

Taking Sakura’s hand, he guided it to where he was lightly thrusting into his own grip. Sakura traced his fingers along the shaft, feeling it pulse under his touch.

“Like this, omega.”

Sakura trembled at the name, feeling a rush of wetness soak his underwear. Mirroring Nirei's actions, he wrapped his hand around the boy's length and started a steady rhythm, pumping his cock and alleviating the pulsing hardness with his hand.

"N-Nirei- I need-"

"I know." He slid his fingers back to where they belonged, past Sakura's clothing and into his wet pussy once again.

Sakura nearly drooled at the sensation, his eyes locked onto Nirei's dick, glistening with his own slick and pre-cum.

They whimpered and sighed at each other's touch, completely oblivious to their friends who were likely wondering where they had disappeared to. 

The thought of their friends made Nirei feel a surge of panic about how long they had been in the locker room. Surely, their friends must have guessed what they were up to by now.

Yet, all those concerns drifted away as Sakura flicked his wrist, lightly brushing his fingertips against his tip. Nirei let out a deep groan as he reached his climax embarrassingly quick from the sensation.

Sakura gazed in awe at the cum covering his fingers. Nirei’s hand paused inside him, halting as he recovered from the lingering effects of his climax. 

Sakura moved his hips, pushing Nirei’s fingers deeper, while he brought his own hand to his lips.

 The beta let out a surprised yelp as Sakura licked the release from his fingers, one by one. 

He moaned and tightened around the fingers inside him, grinding his hips more intensely. 

Nirei quickly snapped out of his daze to complete the task at hand, feeling insanely embarrassed that he had finished before Sakura—and so fast too.

Dropping to his knees, Sakura's pants and underwear discarded, Nirei grasped Sakura’s hips, and pulled Sakura's soaked pussy to his face. 

Nirei knew Sakura couldn’t hold back his screams as he ate him out—a fact Nirei had come to know well throughout Sakura's heat. 

The gym should be empty by now, with everyone heading home after training. This emboldened Nirei as he wasted no time plunging his tongue deep into Sakura's warmth. 

He worked Sakura's clit with his thumb and Sakura's loud moans echoed through the room, rivaling any porn star's performance, a sound Nirei knew well, but would never admit too.

Sakura gasped, “Nirei, more! More!” as the beta sucked his clit into his mouth, driving his fingers deep inside, causing Sakura to writhe. “'m gonna cum, Nirei. Gonna cum.” Nirei intensifies his actions, causing Sakura to cry out, releasing slick onto his face, climaxing with a raw scream of his name.

“...Fuck.”

Nirei and Sakura emerged from the locker room slowly, trying to look casual, like they hadn’t just… well, lost all sense of propriety in a very echo-prone space. Their hair was slightly tousled, cheeks flushed, and despite having done their best to clean up, the embarrassed tension clung to them like static.

Sakura was the first to spot their friends standing just outside the gym doors. He froze.

Suo was composed—well, more composed than Kiryu, who looked like he’d been holding his breath for five minutes straight. Both stood stiffly, like they'd accidentally walked into the wrong room and were trying not to panic. Suo’s arms were crossed tight over his chest, lips pressed into a neutral line, but the faint pink on his ears betrayed him. Kiryu, meanwhile, was doing a poor job of pretending he wasn’t dying inside, his gaze flicking anywhere but at them.

And then there was the very obvious issue of what was happening below the belts.

Sakura noticed. Nirei noticed. They both decided to pretend they didn’t.

No one spoke at first.

Sakura cleared his throat. “Uh.”

Kiryu opened his mouth like he was about to say something stupid, then thought better of it.

Suo, to his credit, gave a light nod. “You two took a while.”

Sakura’s face went bright red. “Nirei lost his shirt. We had to find it, that’s all.”

“Yep. Someone must’ve stolen it,” Nirei echoed a beat too quickly.

They were such shit liars. There was no way the alpha’s didn’t smell the slick that was still painted in Sakura’s boxers… and previously Nirei’s face.

Silence.

Kiryu finally cracked, his eye twitching. “You’re lucky everyone else went home.”

Sakura scowled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Kiryu waved his hands in surrender. “Nothing! Nothing at all.”

“I will end you,” Sakura grumbled, hiding his red cheeks in the palms of his hands.

Nirei, still burning from the neck up, scratched the back of his head. “Sorry you… had to wait?”

Suo exhaled slowly, as if gathering his zen. “We were waiting to walk home with you two. ”

The air between them finally started to loosen. The tension still lingered, but no dared to bring up anything further. They simply turned and began walking, feet crunching softly against the gravel path leading out of the school.

Kiryu snorted, breaking the awkward silence. “Next time I’ll be sure to bring noise-canceling headphones.”

Sakura shouted profanities while Nirei flushed red, enough to rival a ripe tomato.

Jealousy lingered faintly in the background, but it wasn’t sharp like before. It was quiet. Accepting.

Suo and Kiryu knew now, if they wanted to be part of that future with Sakura, they’d need to respect the rhythm of it.

Even when it got… loud.

Chapter Text

The mist hadn't lifted yet.

It curled low around their ankles, clinging to the concrete of the bridge like breath on cold glass. Sakura stood at the front, heart beating a steady, controlled rhythm in his chest. Not panicked. Not trembling.

Not anymore.

Behind him, his classmates shifted in place, the silence between them taut as wire. Scent patches masked their fear—but Sakura didn’t need to smell it. He felt it in Nirei’s restless fidgeting, in the way Suo stood unnaturally still beside him, eyes scanning the fog like it might reach out and grab them.

The whole town was holding its breath tonight.

“Two minutes,” Sakura murmured, glancing sideways at Sugishita. “Hope you’re warmed up.”

Sugishita rolled his shoulders and flexed his fingers. “Hope you can keep up.”

Sakura growled under his breath—but the smirk tugging at his lips betrayed him.

He should have been more afraid. Nine days of preparation hadn’t made the odds any better. Noroshi still had the numbers, the power, the audacity. But something inside him had settled. Not because the danger felt smaller—but because he wasn’t facing it alone.

His fingers brushed his wrist—where a scent patch clung stubbornly to his skin.

Nirei. Suo. Kiryu.

The rooftop where the war was declared. The warmth of the sleepover, the laughter, the comforting press of bodies in a nest of blankets. Scent patches peeled away, trust laid bare. They were here now. He wasn't just fighting for himself now.

He was fighting for others.

 A low rumble. The rhythm of approaching footsteps pounding across asphalt.

The sound of war.

Suo stood tall at the teacher’s desk, like he was meant to be there.

“All right everyone! Let’s start, shall we?” he called out, voice firm but friendly.

He took a deep breath, waiting for the classroom to quiet. All eyes turned toward him, the chatter dying down as his presence commanded attention.

“During our meeting with the other leaders, it was decided that Tamon’s first years will be protecting the bridge closest to the school,” Suo announced, scanning the room to ensure everyone was following. “We need to come up with some kind of strategy, as we’ll be the only ones stationed there. I tried thinking something up, and Mizuki-senpai has gone over it, so I’ll let you know what the plan is for now…”

He paused meaningfully, gaze sweeping across the room. Then his eyes found Sakura’s.

A crooked smile slipped onto his face, his usual relaxed and teasing demeanor cracking through the serious tone.

“Oh, by the way. As for why I’m the one saying all this…” He gave a sly smirk. “...it’s because Sakura tossed the responsibility fully on me!”

Sakura jolted upright in his seat at the callout, face flushed. Laughter erupted around the classroom, the tension instantly softening into something easier. War was on the horizon—but in that moment, it felt just a little farther away.

“S-SHADDUP!” Sakura bristled like a wet kitten, his cheeks pink as he huffed. He glanced off to the side, grumbling, “It’s better to leave this stuff up to Suo…”

Suo grinned wider, warmth blooming in his chest—just like it had the day Sakura first came to him and quietly asked him to handle the planning. It had meant more than Sakura probably realized.

“Lookit that! He relies on you!” Anzai chimed in smugly from the second row, waggling his brows and shooting Suo a pointed, all-knowing look.

Suo laughed, ignoring the jab for now. “It means Sakura has learned to use people to his advantage!”

The teasing only made Sakura puff up more. “That’s not—!”

But Suo straightened again, placing both palms on the teacher’s desk as he pulled the focus back in. “Now, let’s talk strategy.”

The shift in his tone brought the room to stillness. Chairs creaked slightly as students leaned in, the earlier laughter replaced by sharp attention.

Suo reached into the small pouch on his hip and pulled out a collection of small stones, placing them purposefully across the surface of the desk. He gestured as he spoke, assigning each one to represent their group and the predicted enemy formations.

 he visual helped—his calm voice grounding them. He pointed to each position, answering questions as they came. He glanced up, scanning for understanding. The class nodded along, some muttering softly to themselves.

“And so,” Suo continued, voice steady, “we’re going to send out our vanguards. These individuals will be strong, independent fighters who can hold their ground and mow down the enemy, even when outnumbered.”

There were murmurs now—hesitant, unsure.

“Who’s strong enough to do that?” someone whispered aloud.

It was a dumb question. Everyone already knew.

Nirei, sitting off to the side, gripped his pen tightly. His stomach churned with nerves. Because of course it would be Sakura. Of course he’d be at the front. And no matter how many times Sakura reassured him, it didn’t make it easier to watch him walk into danger.

Suo stepped forward then, placing himself directly between two desks. Between Sakura… and Sugishita.

“Well,” Suo said, his grin still easy, but now carrying an undeniable weight. “Who else but our class’ two major aces?”

He turned toward Sakura, meeting his eyes with calm certainty and a gentle warmth.

“It’s all up to you two.”

Nirei’s voice cracked. “Th-they’re here…”

Sakura’s stance shifted, eyes narrowing. Sugishita cracked his neck with a scowl.

“They clearly outnumber us,” Suo muttered, head snapping toward Nirei, who stood frozen behind him. “Call for backup. Now.”

Nirei’s fingers trembled as he pulled out his phone, swiping shakily through the chat app. He tapped the preset sticker—a red ‘X’—the signal for send help now . Almost immediately, his phone lit up with replies. Ping after ping. One red ‘X’. Then another. Then a dozen more.

“They’re overwhelmed too…” Nirei whispered, voice strangled. “Every unit… they’re asking for help…”

A heavy silence dropped over them.

The enemy stepped into view, their smirks like knives in the mist.

Sakura stepped forward.

Tall. Still. Unflinching.

“They want to destroy Bofurin,” he said, more to himself than to anyone else. “Let’s give them hell.”

And then the fog parted— and chaos erupted.

Fists cracked against jaws. The crunch of bone and the dull thud of fists on flesh rang out, echoing across the bridge like drumbeats of war.

Sakura didn’t stop moving.

He ducked a swing, pivoted, and sent his elbow into someone’s ribs, twisting just in time to avoid a second attacker from the left. They kept coming . Like a tide that couldn’t be stopped—waves and waves of them. Noroshi’s numbers weren’t an exaggeration. They were an infestation.

“Left!” Sugishita barked.

Sakura didn’t hesitate. He spun low, sweeping a leg beneath an enemy’s knees as Sugishita landed a clean uppercut to another’s jaw, the man crumpling like a paper doll.

They didn’t like working together, but they had to. 

People were counting on them.

Their movements—though clumsy, occasionally overlapping and filled with gritted-out curses— worked . One would break a guard, the other would land the finishing blow. They fought like two wild animals stuck in the same cage. Barely coordinated, barely civil. But lethal.

“Back-to-back,” Sakura growled as another round of Noroshi fighters surged toward them.

“Don’t boss me around.”

“Then keep up.”

They slammed into each other’s backs just in time—Sugishita catching a charging fist and redirecting the attacker’s momentum into Sakura’s waiting shoe. The enemy dropped, winded and unconscious before he hit the ground.

Noroshi kept pushing.

“Why the hell are there so many of them?!” Sugishita spat, shoulder-checking a taller enemy and following up with a blow to the stomach. “It’s like they brought a whole damn city !”

Sakura didn’t answer. His knuckles were already bleeding, but he kept swinging, kept ducking and weaving. They couldn’t let themselves tire out—not now, not with the others relying on them to hold the line.

He spotted Nirei out of the corner of his eye, holding his own in the back of formation, despite being scared out of his wits.

Another enemy lunged. Sakura ducked under the blow, his back pressing into Sugishita’s again.

“Switch!” Sugishita roared.

They turned in sync. Sakura brought his elbow up—connected with a chin. Sugishita followed up with a savage kick that sent another body flying back.

More were coming. Dozens. Maybe more . But for now, they held the line.

For now, Bofurin stood.

Suddenly, the air grew heavier— charged . Like the static before lightning, but thicker, deeper. It rolled through the battlefield in a wave, stopping some in their tracks. Suo’s head snapped up. Kiryu froze mid-swing. Nirei paled, suddenly short of breath.

Sakura felt it like a punch to the gut.

A presence . No—two of them. Power so concentrated it made his stomach churn.

From the far side of the bridge, the mist parted once more—not from movement, but from sheer pressure . The kind that pressed down on instinct . 

Mizuki’s voice echoed in Sakura’s mind: “You’ll know them when you see them.”

And he did.

One of them was tall—built like a fortress with a smirk that looked carved into his face. Shuji Hashirao. One of Noroshi’s top brass. The other, leaner, wiry and twitching like a live wire, eyes locked unblinking onto one person.

Obiki Kaito. His attention was on Suo.

Sakura grit his teeth as Obiki broke into a run.

“ Suo! ” he shouted.

But Suo was already moving—meeting Obiki halfway, their clash sounding like steel on steel. The calm, composed alpha shifted into battle mode effortlessly, blocking Obiki’s first blow with one arm and pivoting to counter.

Sakura couldn’t focus on them for long.

Because Hashirao, the other member, turned—and looked right at him .

Those eyes were sharp, amused. Cruel.

“Yo,” Hashirao called casually, voice low and rumbling like distant thunder. “You’re the little mouthy one, huh? The one making all the noise up front.”

Sakura’s breath hitched. His skin prickled. His scent patch suddenly felt too tight, not strong enough.

Then Hashirao stepped closer—and his alpha pheromones hit full force .

The world tilted for a second. It wasn’t even the scent—it was the weight of it, the invasive push of dominance. Aimed directly at him.

Sakura gagged.

His knees buckled just slightly—only slightly—but he recovered quickly, shoving a forearm up to cover his nose and snarling through it.

Sugishita didn’t move.

He bristled .

“Fuck,” Sakura growled lowly.

Sugishita glanced at him sidelong, surprised at the change of attitude.

Hashirao’s grin widened. “Tch. You got guts, I’ll give you that. Freak. ”

Sakura’s hands were shaking.

Not with fear.

With fury.

“You really wanna make this personal?” he snapped, dropping his arm and lowering into a stance. “Fine. I’ll rip your fangs out and wear them as a trophy.”

Hashirao laughed .

“Atta boy.”

Then he lunged.

Dusk kicked up from all the brawling, blurred the edges of vision, filled the cracks between shouted orders and crunching fists. Blood stained the pavement. The clang of metal and the dull thud of fists against flesh echoed into the night.

And in the center of it— they were losing .

Sakura and Sugishita stood back-to-back, panting, their uniforms torn and sweat-slicked. Across from them, Shuji Hashirao stood tall and relaxed, not a scratch on him. His smile was sharp as a blade, eyes gleaming with violent amusement.

He hadn’t even broken a sweat.

The older alpha rolled his shoulders like he was warming up, despite having tossed both of them around like rag dolls already. “Come on,” Hashirao drawled, swaggering forward with the confidence of someone untouchable. “That all you’ve got? Pretty disappointing, considering all the noise you punks make about protecting this town.”

Sakura wiped blood from his lip, glaring. His fists were still up—but his stance had slipped. He wasn’t reacting fast enough. His head was spinning.

Then—

Hashirao’s grin widened, and he locked eyes with Sakura.

“Or maybe it’s not your skills that are weak. Maybe it’s just you. ” He stepped closer, sniffing the air and wetting his lips. His tone is mockingly gentle now. “An omega , huh? Tch. What’re you even doing here? Looking for a rut, sweetheart?”

Sakura’s heart stopped in his chest.

He’d known it might happen. That someone might sniff him out. The moment his scent patch had peeled just slightly during the fight, he'd felt the shift—but hearing it voiced , spoken aloud like that, in front of Sugishita—

He froze.

The air closed in around him. His ears rang. His knees threatened to give. He couldn’t breathe.

“Aw,” Hashirao crooned, voice full of poison. “Don’t pout. I think it’s cute. You trying to fight like this? All flushed and trembling—”

“ OI. ” Sugishita turned and punched Sakura in the stomach .

Not hard enough to hurt—but hard enough to wake him up .

Sakura choked and stumbled forward, eyes snapping wide as he gasped.

“The hell’s wrong with you?” Sugishita snapped. “Don’t listen to that bastard! You’re stronger than this.”

Sakura wheezed once, then let out a snarl—his eyes burning back to life.

“I know I am,” he growled, straightening. He slapped his patch back in place, sealing it once again.

“Then fight like it.”

And just like that—it clicked.

The next time Hashirao moved, they moved with him.

Sakura ducked beneath a swing, Sugishita covered his blind spot. When Sugishita’s punch missed its mark, Sakura landed a brutal kick to Hashirao’s ribs. Their teamwork—clumsy and misaligned before—locked into rhythm. Unspoken trust passed between each deflection and counter.

“Not bad,” Hashirao grunted, his grin slipping just slightly.

They didn’t answer.

Sugishita’s strikes came sharp and wild, made to draw attention. Sakura struck with precision—fast, focused, furious . Where one faltered, the other covered. They weren’t winning. Not yet. But the tide was shifting.

They were no longer being toyed with.

They were fighting back.

The clang of fists and the thunder of bodies slamming into pavement filled the air like a war drum.

Suo was locked in combat on the far side of the field, his stance firm and his expression unreadable as he exchanged blows with Obiki. His presence was a steady pillar of strength—when he was near, things held together.

But right now, he was gone.

Nirei felt the absence like a blow to the chest .

The crowd of Noroshi thugs didn’t care that he was a beta. They rushed him with wild grins, hungry for blood, for a weak link to snap. But Nirei wasn’t weak—not anymore. Not after weeks of training under Suo, not after everything he’d been through.

He ducked a wild punch and threw his weight low, grabbing the attacker's leg and pulling . The thug tumbled, hitting the ground hard , and Nirei scrambled up, fists raised again.

One down.

His chest heaved, his vision blurred slightly from the blood dripping down from his nose—but he didn’t waver.

Another came.

He side-stepped, planted a foot, and used the attacker’s own momentum to send him crashing into a wall .

Two down.

His body ached. His hands stung. His face was a mess of bruises. But still—he stood.

Even when they laughed. Even when they shouted, “ Just give up already, Beta! ”

He didn’t stop.

“I’m not done,” Nirei muttered, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing red across his cheek. “Not even close.”

Another attacker lunged—and Nirei barely saw it in time.

But before the fist connected, someone blurred past him.

Kiryu .

Kiryu slammed his elbow into the guy’s stomach, then caught him by the shirt and hurled him to the ground.

“Phew,” Kiryu let out a laugh, bouncing slightly on his feet. “That one was kinda nasty.”

Nirei, still panting, blinked up at him. “I had it handled.”

They stood there a moment—just the two of them as more enemies swarmed the streets beyond. The distant sound of Sakura’s battle echoed, but here, for a split second, time paused.

Kiryu reached out and tapped Nirei’s chest , right over his heart.

“I’m not gonna be bested that easily, y’know.”

Nirei blinked.

Then—smiled, bloodied and proud.

“You better not,” he said, breathless.

The unspoken words passed between them like lightning.

They weren’t rivals—not really. But something was shifting. A clearer view. A sense of respect , maybe even something bordering on camaraderie. Kiryu had seen Nirei fight with his whole heart, and Nirei had seen Kiryu step in to help without hesitation.

And neither of them would be forgetting it anytime soon.

Hashirao’s knuckles were bruised, his breathing uneven now.

He was smiling—but not in control anymore.

Not like before.

Sakura wiped a smear of blood from his cheek with the back of his hand, eyes flicking to Sugishita with the smallest nod. It was the only cue they needed. They lunged as one—Sakura coming in low, Sugishita aiming high.

Their fists collided with Hashirao’s chest and jaw at the same time, sending the older alpha staggering back. The fog had thinned, the clang of metal and shouting around them giving way to the rhythm of their battle.

The tide was turning.

Sakura’s muscles burned with exertion, but it felt good —like the way his body moved finally matched the fire in his chest. Every blow was sharper, every dodge cleaner. He and Sugishita had found their rhythm. Rough, chaotic, and unspoken—but it worked so damn well.

Hashirao chuckled, wiping blood from his lip with the back of his hand. “Well, well,” he crooned. “Didn’t expect this much fight from the both of you. Especially not you, little omega.”

Sakura froze for a half-second—but didn’t reply. He wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

Hashirao’s gaze flicked to Sugishita, then back. “So desperate to prove you’re not just some little heat-riddled thing, huh? You two getting off on playing hero together?”

“ Shut up, ” Sugishita spat, stepping in front of Sakura slightly. “Don’t talk like you know anything.”

Hashirao smirked and then—he surged forward.

The pavement was stained with sweat, blood, and desperation.

The battle had raged for what felt like hours, though it had only been minutes. Nirei’s limbs were trembling, his shirt clinging to his back with sweat. His knuckles were bruised and raw, and the ache in his legs made every step feel like he was wading through cement.

But he kept moving .

Every time he thought he couldn’t stand again, he remembered why he was doing this—who he was fighting for . For Sakura. For Bofurin. For the town. For all of them.

A figure charged him—a boy broader and heavier, eyes wild. Nirei grit his teeth, rushing forward to meet him, dropping low to grapple just like Suo had taught him. He caught the boy around the middle, trying to pull him off balance—but his strength was gone.

His knees buckled.

Not now , he thought desperately. I’m not done—

The attacker reared his fist back.

Then, all at once, the pressure vanished.

A shadow passed by him—a clean arc of motion—and the boy went down hard, flattened by a single, expertly-aimed kick to the head. The sound echoed through the street.

Nirei blinked, dazed.

And then he heard it.

“ I see you’ve learned to keep your eyes open, Nirei. ”

That voice.

Clear as day. Smooth, calm, familiar.

Like water in a desert .

He looked up, chest heaving, and there stood Suo—barely winded, shirt rumpled but untouched, a faint sheen of sweat on his brow and not a single cut on his skin. His presence was grounding. Assured.

Suo.  

Alpha.

Relief crashed over Nirei like a wave, his whole body trembling not just from exhaustion now, but from the sheer weight of finally being seen .

He sank to his knees, vision swimming.

“I… tried,” he managed.

Suo didn’t say anything right away. He just crouched down, slipping an arm forward.

“ You did more than try, ” Suo said, voice low and steady. “You held your ground.”

He reached his hand out.

Nirei stared for half a second—then took it.

Suo pulled him up with ease, steadying him with a hand on his back.

“I’m proud of you, Nirei,” he said simply.

Nirei’s breath hitched. His throat tightened. He couldn’t speak—not with the way his chest swelled and his heart ached. But he nodded.

Behind them, the battle still roared.

But somehow, Nirei didn’t feel small anymore.

He wasn’t the beta to be protected. He was someone his friends could rely on—someone Suo respected.

Together, they turned back to the fray, ready for the next round.

It happened too fast.

Sakura had just landed a hit—a solid one, too, knuckles splitting from the impact against Hashirao’s ribs—when the older alpha surged forward in a blur of muscle and spite.

Before he could react, a rough hand curled around the patch on his neck.

Riiip.

The sound was sharp. Final.

Cold air kissed the side of Sakura’s neck.

His scent patch hit the ground with a muted flutter.

Sakura staggered back like he’d been shot, one hand flying up to cover his now-exposed gland.

But it was too late.

The damage was done.

His scent spilled into the air in an instant—faint at first, then growing stronger, richer. Impossible to ignore.

It coiled between them, humid and vulnerable, raw and real .

It hit the battlefield like a shockwave.

The oppressive swirl of alpha pheromones in the air recoiled, twisted, and snapped toward him like drawn wires. His scent stood out among them all—sharp and unmistakable. Omega.

And now, there was no hiding it.

Sakura’s entire body locked up.

His heart stopped beating.

For a long, breathless moment, all he could feel was the sensation of being bare. Exposed. Like someone had peeled away his skin and laid him out for the world to judge.

Hashirao's grin widened, the amusement in his eyes sharpening into something far worse—something interested.

“Well, well…” he drawled, inhaling like he was appreciating the aroma surrounding him now. “Such a nice scent for an omega like you .”

All he could feel was the weight of a thousand stares—even if most eyes hadn’t noticed yet, his body had. His instincts had. His scent bloomed in panic, distressed and unguarded, like a flare in the fog.

It said help.

It screamed danger.

Sakura didn’t speak. He couldn’t speak.

His throat was tight. His chest ached. His pulse hammered so loudly it drowned out the rest of the battlefield. The fog, the shouting, the clashes of fists—it all became white noise.

The taunts of his past rose like bile in his throat.

“Figures someone like you would be hiding something.”

“Must be hard walking around unclaimed like that. Makes you wonder how long you’ll last.”

Hashirao took a step closer, gaze heavy with something between curiosity and mockery. “You’ve got quite the scent for someone playing at being a tough guy. Sweet. Messy. The kind that gets people riled up.” He leaned in, eyes raking over Sakura like he was meat. “Makes me wonder how no one’s knocked you up yet.”

Sakura flinched back like he’d been burned.

He wasn’t here anymore. Not really.

His brain flooded with static—panic bloomed in his chest like a bruise. All those months of carefully hiding, years of repressing everything that made him different—it was unraveling in seconds. Undone by the greedy hand of one bastard who didn’t even care what it meant.

He wanted to scream. To vanish. To scrub his own scent from the air with his bare hands.

Instead, he stood frozen.

Helpless.

Wrong.

He barely registered Sugishita’s voice through the ringing in his ears.

“Oi! Get your shit together, moron! ”

But his voice was far away.

Everything was far away.

The fog felt thicker, heavier. The air too sharp. Sakura couldn't breathe. His skin burned with shame, his throat too tight to speak.

His past pressed in on him, voices from long ago rising through the chaos:

"Omega trash."

"You’ll always be weak."

"No one will protect you when it counts."

Sugishita tried to jolt him back—reached for his arm—but even that didn’t reach Sakura now. Unlike earlier, when his scent was barely noticeable in the fray, this was real .

Everybody could sense him now.

He was sinking deeper.

The battle around them slowed. Not from mercy—but confusion.

Sakura’s scent had broken through the mask of pheromones like a crack in a dam. Distressed omega scent—rich, terrified, calling. It tugged at every alpha on the field like a thread wound tight around the lungs. Some staggered. Others stopped cold.

And three hearts dropped all at once.

Suo’s.

Kiryu’s.

Nirei’s.

Across the fog-choked chaos, they turned—recognizing it immediately. Sakura.

Then—

A voice cut clean through the static.

“Sooo sorry about that… We got lost on the way here.”

Sakura knew that voice.

Jo Togame.

He stood at the edge of the battlefield, fog curling around his ankles like it recognized him, like it parted for him. He lazily waved a hand toward Sakura, a reassuring smile painting his face when their eyes met.

Sakura blinked slowly. He thought maybe he was hallucinating—until he heard it again.

Togame dragged his knuckles across his jaw like he’d just woken up from a nap, his gaze sharp beneath his loose bangs.

“The heroes are here to save the day, Sakura.”

Hashirao turned, slowly, like a man humoring a child.

“And who the hell are you supposed to be?”

Togame stepped into full view—his stance relaxed, his shoulders loose. He smiled—but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“I’m Sakura’s friend,” he said simply.

And then—

The wind shifted.

The pressure in the air changed, as if the battlefield itself sensed the incoming tide.

Hashirao’s smirk twitched.

Sakura’s breath hitched—because that voice, that scent—he wasn’t alone.

Help was here.

Chapter Text

Sakura was worried. Of course he was—there was a battle looming on the horizon. Tension crackled beneath his skin like a live wire. Bofurin was strong—he knew that, deep down. But strength didn’t always mean safety.

Lately, things had started to change. Makochi, with all its chaos and noise, had started to feel like home. Sakura had begun to settle in—to trust, to let his guard down, just a little. And now Noroshi threatened to crush all of that. To destroy everything he and the people he’d come to care for had built together.

It made his chest ache in a way he couldn’t stand.

So here he was—standing just across the railroad tracks, eyeing the entrance to Ori with a furrowed brow and tight jaw. He leaned against a wall near the building, arms crossed, foot tapping restlessly. A scowl etched deep into his features as one of Shishitoren’s lackeys spotted him and slipped aside to get the person he’d come for.

Jo Togame crouched beside a cooler, handing out drinks to his teammates like it was any other lazy afternoon. He was laughing at something one of them said, his usual carefree air intact, totally relaxed.

Sakura watched through narrowed eyes.

The lackey leaned down, murmuring something low in Togame’s ear. The alpha tilted his head, lips quirking curiously, then followed the gesture toward the alley where Sakura stood.

Togame’s gaze met Sakura’s across the distance.

That stupid smile tugged across his face, warm and easy, and he stood—stretching a little before casually making his way over, his strides long and loose. He sauntered like he had all the time in the world.

Sakura’s scowl deepened.

Why did he have to be so effortlessly cool?

Togame reached him and hunched slightly to close the height difference, his tone low but familiar. “We can’t talk at peace here,” he met Sakura’s gaze, voice gentle but firm. “Let’s go somewhere quieter.”

They made their way up to the rooftop of Ori, the sun beating down on their backs. The old stairs groaned beneath their steps, and the remains of rubble from some long-past fight cluttered their path. Togame reached out without a word, offering his hand to help Sakura climb over a chunk of broken concrete. His grip was steady, effortless.

At the top, Togame exhaled a long sigh and stretched his arms over his head. The sun caught on the two ramune bottles clinking softly in one of his hands, the glass sweating from the heat.

He glanced at Sakura from the corner of his eye, the hint of a smile pulling at his lips. “I never thought you’d come visit on your own, Sakura. It’s been ages since I’ve seen you.”

He handed one of the bottles over. “Here.”

Sakura blushed, the flush creeping up the tips of his ears as he took it. “Thanks…”

Togame didn’t reply right away—he just looked at him. A quiet, thoughtful gaze, the kind that made Sakura’s skin crawl with awareness.

Sakura bristled instinctively, shoulders tensing, about to snap at him—but Togame cut him off before he could get a word in.

“You look more relaxed now, Sakura.”

“Huh? You callin’ me weak or somethin’?”

Togame grinned.

“No, not at all! It’s a good thing.”

Sakura twisted the cap on the ramune, struggling with the annoying marble seal. He tugged, turned, and twisted again. Nothing.

Without a word, Togame reached over and gently took the bottle from his hands. He popped the marble with one smooth push, the drink fizzing audibly before he handed it back. Sakura accepted it, flustered and barely restraining the impulse to bite him out of sheer embarrassment.

Togame leaned back against the railing that lined the rooftop, his gaze turning outward, toward the edge of town.

“So? Why’d you come all the way out here?”

Snapping out of his daze, Sakura blinked. He’d been distracted—lulled by Togame’s steady presence, the easy rhythm of his voice. The alpha’s scent curled around them. 

It was steady. Calm.

His eyes dropped to the ramune in his hand. His fingers clenched around it, once, twice, knuckles white.

“...A huge fight is about to start. If we lose, then our town and all of Furin will come down. I…”

He inhaled slowly, raising his gaze to meet Togame’s.

“I wanna protect the town.”

Togame nodded, quiet and listening.

Sakura continued, his voice growing stronger.

“We’re planning on dealing with the threat on our own, but if things get dicey for us, I want to ask you to lend us a hand.”

The wind picked up, tugging at the loose edges of Sakura’s jacket and sweeping the bangs from his eyes. The fire burning in them was impossible to ignore.

Togame stared, just for a moment, before chuckling softly and closing his eyes.

Sakura jolted at the sound, the serious mood dissolving like steam. His expression twisted in offense, bristling as he geared up to smack the alpha beside him.

He bared his little fangs, teeth flashing as if to say you better not be laughing at me.

Togame’s eyes widened at the sight—then he wiped his hands down his face, as if trying to rub the grin off it.

“Sorry. I’m just happy.”

Sakura made a questioning sound, still on edge.

Togame smiled, gentler now.

“The sky’s beautiful today too.”

Shishitoren was here.

Togame was really here.

The moment landed like a stone in a storm—sudden and grounding. The pounding in Sakura’s chest, once frantic and deafening, began to slow in his ears, like the distant thump of a war drum receding.

Relief came too fast, too sharp. It made his hands tremble.

The alpha sent a quick nod to Sakura, a small smile just for him, before honing in on the threat in front of them.

He scrambled to cover his exposed scent gland—fumbling with what was left of the torn patch. It was useless. Of course it was. The moment the seal had broken, it was over.

His fingers dug into the skin of his neck— he was panicking again , scratching as though he could erase the scent altogether. The raw skin stung under his nails. It didn’t help. It only made it worse.

Voices in his head screamed words that he couldn’t make out. They led him deeper and deeper into a space that he couldn’t break free from. Everything around him—everything that was real —became a hazy dream.

Togame—steady, unreadable Togame—exchanged a few clipped words with Hashirao, voice low and laced with something dangerous.

And then—they lunged.

The clash of fists snapped the world back into motion.

Kiryu was the first to break through the fog of confusion, sprinting through the chaos toward Sakura the second he saw the opening. His face was pale, lips pressed tight—not out of fear, but sheer urgency.

Sugishita was already nearby, hovering in the periphery with clenched fists and a sharp frown carved deep between his brows. He didn’t know what to do . That scared him more than anything.

He hadn’t meant to catch Sakura’s scent earlier when the patch had first come loose, hadn’t really thought about what it really meant. But now—it was everywhere . Thick in the air. Overwhelmed omega. Frightened. Backed into a corner.

It rattled him, made his alpha instincts coil with something between protectiveness and unease. It was unfamiliar territory.

And it scared the hell out of him.

But one thing was clear—even Sugishita could see it.

Sakura was not okay.

After the brief interruption—the omega’s scent tearing through the battlefield like a siren—and Shishitoren’s dramatic entrance, the chaos resumed. Focus shifted again to the fights at hand. And in a strange, selfish way, it was a relief. No time to think. No time to feel. Just move. Just fight.

But not for everyone.

Suo was with Nirei when it happened—when the scent of terrified omega hit them like a wave crashing through the fog.

Their omega.

Nirei’s heart seized. He didn’t hesitate. He began pushing through the bodies in front of him, barreling past enemy and ally alike. Fear forgotten. Focus razor-sharp.

It was easier now—Noroshi’s forces were starting to falter, sloppy in their movements. Some had even paused, heads turning, nostrils flaring to take in the scent.

That was what made Suo’s chest burn with rage.

That they were smelling him. Their omega. That Sakura’s scent was being devoured by unworthy strangers, by threats. Something deep and ancient howled in Suo’s blood. It was fury. It was instinct.

He didn’t let it show.

He followed Nirei—faster now, shoulder-checking a man who stepped too close—until they broke through the edge of the crowd.

And then they saw him.

Sakura.

Kneeling. His head bowed. His entire body trembling.

Blood dripped in dark rivulets from his fingers—fingers that had clawed viciously at the sensitive glands on his neck, skin torn and patch long gone. His scent curled through the air, raw and vulnerable and loud. Kiryu was crouched beside him, holding tight to Sakura’s wrists, trying to stop the damage. His expression was tight, panicked.

But Sakura wasn’t seeing them.

His eyes were wide and unfocused—his body in a terrified trance, locked inside some distant corner of his mind where none of their voices could reach.

Togame was locked in an intense battle with Hashirao, their movements fast and brutal—a blur of fists, kicks, and sheer dominance clashing on the battlefield.

Sugishita stood nearby, tense, clearly unsure what to do. His eyes kept darting between the brawl and Sakura, panic rising in the face of his helplessness.

Suo squared his shoulders, voice firm and commanding as he called out, “Sugishita. Go. Help the others.”

There were still enemies running wild. They couldn't afford to lose ground.

Sugishita blinked, then nodded sharply. With one last look at Sakura, he turned and sprinted back into the fray.

When Suo turned back, Kiryu had swapped places with Nirei. The beta was kneeling beside Sakura now, clutching his hands—now slick with blood—and sobbing openly. His tears fell freely, his chest heaving with quiet desperation as he took in the sight of the one he loved like this. Broken. Shaking.

“Sakura…” he whispered, voice cracking.

Suo joined them quickly, lowering himself to the ground with quiet precision. He exhaled, slow and purposeful, letting his pheromones slip into the air—calm, grounded, steadying. A thread of comfort woven into the chaos.

Sakura flinched.

Then, slowly, his shoulders eased. His breath caught—and then released.

Kiryu saw what Suo was doing, and his own instincts kicked in. His presence softened, and his scent joined the mix—warmer, sweeter, protective in its own way.

Between them, they created a blanket of safety, their combined pheromones wrapping around Sakura like a shield.

Nirei, still trembling, gently gripped Sakura’s hands—fingers sticky with drying blood—and began to ease them away from his neck. He cradled them in his own, kissing the backs of them softly, whispering things only Sakura could hear.

And finally—

Sakura’s eyes started to clear. The glassy, vacant haze began to fade, awareness creeping back in.

His scent, once sharp with terror, began to soften.

The storm was passing.

He was still shaken. Still curled in on himself.

But he was back.

Their strong, stubborn omega… was back.

Sakura’s lashes fluttered as his gaze fully cleared, soft and glassy with unshed tears. His chest rose and fell with quick, shallow breaths—but they weren’t panicked anymore. Not quite.

Nirei’s face was the first thing he saw, pale and streaked with worry. His eyes shimmered just as much as Sakura’s did, lips parted like he’d been holding back sobs. Sakura squeezed his hands, rough and trembling, and Nirei’s grip tightened immediately in return.

“You’re okay,” Nirei whispered, even if he was trying to convince himself too. “You’re okay, Sakura.”

Sakura nodded faintly. His throat felt raw. He couldn’t speak.

Kiryu’s hand settled on his upper arm, warm and steady, as if anchoring him in place. His usual cheer was quieted into a focused calm, eyes locked on Sakura like he was the most precious thing in the world.

And behind him, Suo moved with his usual grace, kneeling just enough to wrap one large hand around the back of Sakura’s neck—not restraining, but steadying. His pheromones were warm and grounding, slow as a heartbeat. Sakura inhaled instinctively and found himself surrounded.

Three scents.

Familiar. Safe. Steady.

They filled the space around him like a weighted blanket, coiling softly around his frayed nerves. Suo’s cool, serene calm. Kiryu’s warmth and teasing brightness. Nirei’s soft, honest spark that always seemed to pulse just for him. And— his own scent .

They mixed so well. Too well. Like they’d always been meant to fit together.

Sakura took a deep breath. Then another. And then—slowly, shakily—he exhaled.

The scent of blossoms in spring was now calm. No longer lashing out. Just calm.

He clutched tighter at Nirei’s hands, letting the tremble work itself out through their tangled fingers. His voice, when it came, was small and rough.

“...Thanks,” he muttered. “I-I’m okay now.”

“Liar,” Kiryu said with a wry smile, brushing sweaty bangs from Sakura’s face.

But he said it softly. With love .

Suo leaned down, his forehead briefly touching Sakura’s, a silent press of comfort. “We’ve got you,” he murmured. “It’ll be okay.”

The battle around them hadn’t ended—but the battle inside had.

He wasn’t alone. Not anymore.

Just as the steady silence settled over them—just as Sakura finally felt like he could breathe again— a buzz shattered the fragile peace.

Nirei jumped. His phone screen lit up in his pocket.

A notification. Then another. Then three more.

Sakura watched Nirei’s eyes widen, watched the blood drain from his already-pale face.

“What is it?” Sakura asked, voice sharper now—tighter. Alert.

Nirei didn’t answer. His thumb hovered over the screen, but he didn’t read the messages out loud. Instead, his jaw tightened, and he tried to tuck the phone away.

“Nirei,” Sakura pressed, narrowing his eyes. “What did they say?”

“I-It’s—” Nirei stammered, clearly panicking. “It’s probably nothing. Don’t worry about it right now, you just—”

“Nirei.”

It wasn’t a demand, not this time.

It was calm.

Sakura held his gaze. Steady. Unshaking. His scent was still tense beneath the surface, but it wasn’t spiraling anymore.

“I’m fine,” he said, more confidently than before. “What happened?”

Nirei looked up, searching for someone to give him permission he hadn’t realized he needed. His eyes met Suo’s. The alpha gave a slow, deliberate nod—his gaze gentle, proud.

And that was enough.

Nirei exhaled shakily, then slipped back into mission mode. His grip didn’t leave Sakura’s hand.

“A report just came in…” he said, clearing his throat. “From one of the vice-captains stationed near the park.”

Sakura’s brows furrowed.

Nirei swallowed thickly. “...Endo and Chika are making their way to Furin.”

The weight of those names dropped between them like thunder.

Sakura didn’t flinch.

He blinked once. Twice.

Then stood.

The ache in his joints protested, the blood on his neck hadn’t dried—but he was grounded. He was clear.

His voice was quiet when he finally spoke.

“How far are they?”

Nirei’s mouth parted slightly. The boy before him—his omega—had returned to himself entirely.

“Fifteen minutes out, max,” Nirei answered.

Sakura nodded once.

“I need to go.”

All three boys shot up immediately.

“No way,” Kiryu said, grabbing Sakura’s arm—not rough, but firm, his touch laced with worry. Suo stepped forward too, blocking his path without a word, while Nirei looked ready to beg him not to leave.

“You’re not going alone,” Kiryu added, brows furrowed. “Not now.”

But Sakura’s gaze had already moved past them, scanning the battlefield.

Shishitoren fought alongside their classmates now, fists flying, blood spattering, enemies falling—but not fast enough. The air was still thick with pheromones, with fury, smoke, and desperation. His classmates were being pushed to their limits. Their allies, their pack—fighting tooth and nail for every inch.

He shook his head.

His fingers wrapped around Kiryu’s wrist—and gently pried it off.

“I have to do this,” he said, voice low but certain.

The fight with Endo… it was his. Umemiya had trusted him with it. Not anyone else.

And now—finally—he was ready.

His gaze sharpened, shoulders squaring with renewed conviction. The panic had drained out of him. What filled him now was something heavier. Firmer. Resolve.

If he wanted to protect what mattered, then he had to get his shit together.

The three boys standing in front of him—Nirei, Kiryu, Suo—had become more important to him than anyone else ever had. That realization settled deep in his chest like the final piece of something long unfinished. His love for Nirei was easy to name now, familiar and warm.

But the feelings he held for the two alphas…

Those weren’t new either. Just… unspoken.

Something buried under pride and stubbornness.

Something he was finally ready to acknowledge.

He needed to protect them.

And they needed to stay. They had to protect the rest of the pack—the town, their classmates. All of them.

“I’ll be fine,” Sakura said, steady now.

“Stay here,” he looked at each of them. “Protect them.”

Then, before anyone could argue, he turned and dashed into the fray, weaving through the chaos like a bolt of instinct and fury.

From nearby, Sugishita saw him go—recognized the direction instantly.

“Shit,” he hissed. His opponent barely had time to blink before Sugishita grabbed him by the collar and hurled him straight at Kiryu.

“What the hell—!” Kiryu caught the body mid-spin with a grunt.

“I’m going after him!” Sugishita barked. No hesitation. Just steel.

Suo’s eyes widened, but only for a second. Nirei flinched—then squared his shoulders.

The spell was broken.

Their captain had given them an order. They needed to trust him. 

So they moved.

Fight. Protect. Hold the line.

Kiryu surged back into battle with a curse under his breath, Suo right behind him, eyes sharp and heart steady. Nirei let out a breath and rejoined the fray, fists clenched with a new kind of purpose.

Back to battle they went.