𝒌𝒂𝒕𝒔𝒃𝒂𝒌𝒖𝒈𝒐𝒖

With a deep breath, she made her way over to the interview couch and took a seat, the cameras already rolling. “Hi, I’m Y/n Y/l/n,” she said with a bright smile. “I’m 25, I’m (race), and I’m originally from (state or country).” She gave a small laugh. “I’m picky when it comes to people I like. But once I’m into someone—I’m locked in.” Off-camera, a voice chimed in. “Y/n, when was your last relationship?” “Four years ago,” she answered without hesitation. “No way,” the cameraman said, half-laughing. “I’m serious!” Y/n grinned, laughing with him. “What happened?” he asked, his tone turning more curious. Her smile faded just a little as she looked toward the lens. “He cheated. With four different girls. Told me he loved me, said he wanted to marry me. We were engaged.” “What!? How did you even find out?” the cameraman asked, leaning in slightly. Y/n let out a breath. “He started coming home later than usual. Then, on my birthday… he turned off his location. That was weird, because we always shared it.”

She paused, her voice tight but steady. “When he finally came home, I had a gut feeling—so I went through his phone. That’s when I saw it. Flirty messages with other girls… videos of him with them. One of them even showed him—” she stopped for a second, eyes dropping. “Yeah. It was bad. I was honestly heartbroken,” she continued. “I thought he was the one. He was my first love, the first person I gave my everything to. Now... I’ve got trust issues. I get attached easily, especially to people I genuinely care about. It’s hard not to carry that with me.” She chuckles, “Well, I’m really sorry you had to go through that with your ex,” the cameraman said gently. “But hopefully, this show helps you find someone who deserves you by the end of the week. And hey—just have fun, okay? Thanks for sitting down with us.” He gave her a warm smile. Y/n smiled back. “Thank you.” She stood up and walked toward the living room, her footsteps light against the floor. She found a seat on one of the couches and sat down quietly, hands folded in her lap.

As time went on, more contestants began to arrive, trickling in one by one. Each time the door opened, Y/n stood up with a welcoming smile, offering a friendly hug to every new face. Once everyone had taken their seats, the host finally stepped into the room—Nemuri Kayama, better known as Midnight. She walked in with confidence and a cheerful smile. "Hello, ladies and gentlemen," she greeted brightly. "I’m Nemuri Kayama, your host for this show. Eight singles. One house. Let’s get things started." She glanced around at the circle of contestants before pointing toward a man with spiky blonde hair. He wore a white long-sleeved shirt under a blue jersey, paired with blue jeans and Timberlands. "We’ll start with introductions—Katsuki, you’re up," she said with a playful grin. “Name’s Katsuki Bakugou. I’m 27, Japanese—originally from Musutafu,” Katsuki said casually, his tone cool and to the point. “I moved to the U.S. a few years back. I’m living in L.A. now.” After him, the introductions continued around the circle, each contestant sharing a little piece of themselves. “Shoto Todoroki,” the next one said with a calm demeanor. “I’m 26…” One by one, the others followed, the room filling with a mix of voices, backgrounds, and personalities—until it was Y/n’s turn. She offered a gentle smile. “Hi, my name is Y/n Y/l/n. I’m 25 years old, and I’m (race). Right now, I live in (country/state).” Her voice was soft, but clear—and just like that, everyone smiled back

“Now that we’ve all introduced ourselves, let’s take this next part outside,” Nemuri announced with a smile, motioning for everyone to follow her. The group stood and made their way to the backyard, where the sky was painted in soft shades of orange and pink—a perfect sunset setting the mood. As Nemuri turned to grab a stack of cards from a nearby table, the group naturally split up—Izuku, Shoto, Eijiro, and Katsuki gathered near the patio while Y/n, Momo, Mina, and Ochaco found a spot by the lounge chairs. “So, Y/n,” Ochaco began kindly, “when was your last relationship?” Y/n let out a light chuckle. “Four years ago.” “Really? Wow,” Ochaco blinked in surprise. “Yep.” Y/n laughed again, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “How’d it end?” Momo asked, curiosity in her voice. “Cheating. I pretty much caught him red-handed,” Y/n said with a calm smile. “He was my fiancé, too.” “Oh my god—you were engaged?” Mina gasped, eyes wide. “Mhm. For about three months,” Y/n nodded casually. “Damn…” Mina mumbled, clearly stunned. Trying to shift the mood, Momo chuckled. “So, did anyone else overpack?” “I totally did,” Ochaco laughed. “I was in such a rush—I just threw everything into my suitcase without thinking.” the girls laughed at Ochaco with her overpacking.

After a little while, Nemuri returned, holding a stack of question cards in her hand. “Alright,” she said with a playful grin, “we’re going to ask some questions to get to know each other better—one by one.” She glanced at the top card. “Let’s start with… Shoto.” Shoto looked up calmly as Nemuri read aloud, “When was the last time you were in a relationship?” He nodded slightly before answering, “About a year and a half ago.” “And how did it end?” Nemuri asked, keeping her tone casual but curious. “It ended on good terms,” Shoto replied, his voice even. “But the main reason was… she stopped making time for me. Got really into her OnlyFans and that sort of took over.” “Damn,” Katsuki chuckled, shaking his head. Eijiro and Izuku exchanged looks, both trying to hold back laughter. “So you’re blue balls now?” Eijiro teased with a loud laugh. Shoto cracked a small grin. “Nah, it’s not like that,” he said, brushing it off. “Alright, moving on…” Nemuri smiled, rolling her eyes playfully as she flipped to the next card.

“Eijiro,” Nemuri read aloud, glancing at the next card, “what were the biggest complaints in your previous relationship?” Eijiro leaned back, letting out a low whistle. “Biggest complaints? Damn…” he paused, thinking for a moment. “Probably the attachment and jealousy I brought into it. I cared too much, maybe a little too hard. She was super insecure and didn’t really have her own independence, so things got messy fast.” Nemuri nodded as the others listened in. “That’s honest,” she said. “Yeah, that’s wild,” Katsuki added, shaking his head slightly. Nemuri moved on, lifting the next card. “Katsuki—how has your previous relationship shaped who you are today?” Katsuki tilted his head, exhaling through his nose. “Well…” he started, voice a little quieter, “I think it turned me into someone who values intimacy and vulnerability more.” He paused for a second before continuing. “I used to be used to getting everything I wanted, having that constant reassurance and attention. But when it all ended, it hit harder than I thought it would. That loss kind of stuck with me. Changed how I see things.” A quiet moment followed before Nemuri gave a small, understanding smile. “Thank you for sharing that,” she said softly, then flipped to the next card.

The questions continued for a while longer, laughter and light teasing filling the air until Nemuri finally led everyone back inside. One by one, they settled onto the couches in the living room, the energy still buzzing from the backyard conversation. “Alright,” Nemuri said, holding up a small stack of blank cards. “For this next activity, I want each of you to write down who you think is the most attractive person in the room.” She grinned playfully. “Out of the eight of you, you can choose one or two people—no more than that. Write the names clearly. Be honest.” Everyone reached for a piece of paper, some smirking, others trying to play it cool. Y/n stared down at her blank card, her pen hovering in hesitation. Then, Katsuki’s voice cut through the silence. “Hey, Y/n—how do you spell your name?” The room erupted with laughter, a few playful oohs thrown around as Y/n’s face warmed with a blush. She glanced over at him, biting back a smile. “It’s Y/n,” she spelled it out slowly, and he nodded, jotting it down like it was no big deal. Trying to shake off her flustered nerves, Y/n looked back at her card. With a small smile, she carefully wrote Katsuki and folded the paper, slipping it into Nemuri’s hand as she moved around collecting everyone’s answers.

“Alright, everyone,” Nemuri called out, standing at the front of the room with a sly smile. “Tonight, you’ll all be attending a party. You can either go solo—or with a partner.” The room stirred with interest. “But before we get ready,” she continued, “let’s find out who’s going with who.” She picked up the stack of cards and smirked before flipping over the first one. “First up… Katsuki Bakugou.” She dramatically turned over his card, revealing the name written in bold letters: Y/n. Then, for confirmation, she flipped Y/n’s card next—Katsuki. “With Y/n,” Nemuri grinned. Katsuki didn’t hesitate. He stood, swaggering across the room and casually draping his arm around Y/n’s shoulders. Leaning in close, he whispered into her ear with a smirk, “Sup, beautiful.” Y/n let out a soft giggle, trying to hide the blush rising to her cheeks. Nemuri continued with the pairings. “Shoto Todoroki will be going with… Momo Yaoyorozu.” Shoto gave a small nod as Momo smiled warmly. “Next—Eijiro Kirishima with Mina Ashido. And lastly, Izuku Midoriya with Ochaco Uraraka.” The rest of the group clapped or whistled as the pairs were revealed. Nemuri glanced around at them all. “You’ve got some time to get ready, so dress to impress. We leave in an hour.”

Everyone scattered once Nemuri wrapped things up. The house instantly split in two—girls heading down the hall to one of the bedrooms, guys taking over the other. The girls’ room was in chaos in the best way. Music blasted from someone’s speaker, bags were unzipped, clothes were tossed on the bed, and everyone was talking over each other. "Y/n, you better not wear that jacket," Mina teased, holding up a sparkly crop top. "You’re gonna outdress all of us," Y/n smirked, tugging on her black leather race car jacket anyway. “That’s the point.” She wore it over a fitted black crop top, paired with low-rise, baggy jeans that hugged her hips just right. On her feet—black Nike Dunks with suede panels. “Okay, but seriously, you look hot,” Ochaco grinned as she adjusted her eyeliner in the mirror. “Katsuki’s gonna lose his mind.” Y/n rolled her eyes, but the heat rising to her cheeks betrayed her. “Shut up.” In the guys’ room, it was just as loud—but for completely different reasons. “Bro, where’s my chain?” Eijiro yelled, tossing pillows off the bed. “You better not be wearing it again, Izuku!” “I’m not!” Izuku called from the bathroom. “Why would I wear your chain? I have my own!” Katsuki stood by the mirror, spritzing cologne on his neck, completely unbothered by the chaos. He adjusted the collar of his jacket, then looked over at Shoto.

“You think she’s gonna look good?” he asked casually, though there was something in his voice that wasn’t as cool as he tried to sound. Shoto didn’t even look up. “She always does,” Katsuki smirked. Downstairs, the first to finish trickled into the living room, checking their phones, fixing their hair in the hallway mirror. Then Y/n walked in. Katsuki’s eyes immediately found her. He didn’t say anything at first—just stared. “Damn,” he muttered under his breath, walking straight over to her. Without warning, he draped his arm around her shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world. He leaned in, low enough that only she could hear it. “Sup, beautiful.” Y/n laughed, biting back a smile. “That line still works on people?” “Only the ones worth saying it to,” he shot back with a smirk. The others filed in behind them—Shoto adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves next to Momo, Eijiro hyping up Mina as she double-checked her gloss, and Ochaco fixing Izuku’s collar while pretending not to blush. “Alright, everyone ready?” Nemuri called out, heels clicking across the floor as she appeared in the entryway. “Hell yeah!” Eijiro grinned, swinging his keys around his finger.

Who believed in forever. But, reality hits hard. Promises are tricky. At first, feeling became something solid—like they're meant individually. But the truth?... it doesn't always hold. One lie is all it takes. Everything starts slipping. Texts don’t get answered. Eye contact disappears. Conversations turn short and cold. And suddenly, the people she cared for would never hurt her… but do. Slowly, things took a turn—getting messy. Friendships fell apart. People change. Feelings twist into something ugly and confusing. And the worst part? Y/n still remember how things used to be. Still remember what they said—what they promised. And even when she is trying to move on, it sticks. The words. The memories. The feeling of being left behind. Yet still, Y/n held onto one single promise he made. Stupid. Was what she thought at first.

“…You don’t have to handle everything by yourself. I’m here, okay? I’m not leaving you.”

Kyo said he’d never leave her. Said he’d always be there, no matter what. Through every fight, every bad day, every stupid mistake. His exact words? “I’m not going anywhere.” And the worst part was… she believed Kyo. She actually believed him. Now, the hallway was quiet. The lights were off. His shoes weren’t at the door. And his jacket—the one he always forgot to hang up—was gone too. Not a trace of Kyo was left in the apartment except for the dent in the couch where he always sat, and a half-empty bottle of that stupid cologne she hated but sprayed on her hoodie anyway. Just to feel like he was still around. Her fingers tightened around the phone. She’d read the last message at least fifty times. "Sorry." That was it. One word. No explanation. No goodbye. Just that. And everything he ever promised? That was a lie.

Y/n couldn’t explain when things started to fall apart. There wasn’t a single moment she could point at and say, “That’s when everything changed.” It just… happened. Quietly. Like the slow drip of a leaking faucet that no one notices until the floor’s already soaked. Her parents left first. No warning, no fight, no last goodbye. Just silence. Then came Kyo—her Kyo—walking out of the apartment they used to call home. The same one she kept clean, decorated, made warm. She stayed. He didn’t. But even after all that, she didn’t blame them. She didn’t scream, didn’t curse, didn’t tear up a photo, or throw things at the wall. Not once did she say it was their fault. Not even when everything they left behind—memories, mess, emptiness—started to crush her. Even when the things that happened weren’t her fault, she still carried the weight like it was. Because that’s what she did. She took it. All of it.

"Why? Why is everyone leaving me?" The words slipped out before she could stop them, barely louder than a whisper, like maybe if she said it quiet enough, it wouldn’t sound so pathetic. Her voice cracked halfway through, but no one was around to hear it anyway. She was sitting on the floor now. Cold tiles pressed against her legs, the apartment darker than usual. She hadn’t turned on the lights when she came home. Didn’t feel like pretending the place was still alive. Her fingers tightened around the edge of the blanket she’d dragged from the couch—Kyo’s favorite one. The stupid, orange one he always wrapped around himself when they watched movies. She used to joke, and it smelled like him. Now, it didn’t smell like anything. It was the only thing that hadn’t left her. And even that felt temporary. Her chest ached. Not in the way people say when they’re being dramatic. It actually hurt, like something sharp was stuck behind her ribs, pressing harder every time she breathed. Like her body knew she was alone before her mind had caught up. She buried her face into the blanket. "Why do they always leave?" No answer. Just silence. Again.

Y/n didn’t remember falling asleep. Just the weight in her chest, the way her face was pressed against that old blanket, and how her fingers wouldn’t stop shaking even in her sleep. When she opened her eyes, the room was still dark. Still cold. Still empty. The kind of empty that felt louder than anything else. She sat up slowly, her neck stiff, her legs numb from being curled up on the hard floor all night. She looked around, hoping—just for a second—that maybe this was all a nightmare. That maybe she’d hear Kyo humming in the kitchen, or her mom’s voice calling her name, like nothing had ever happened. But the silence stayed. Same cracked ceiling. Same coffee mug still sitting by the sink. Same shoes by the door that didn’t belong to anyone anymore. Nothing had changed. She stood, dragging the blanket with her, and walked over to the small table in the kitchen. Her notebook was still there. The one she used to write in when her head got too loud and Kyo wasn’t around to calm her down. She sat. Stared at the blank page. Her eyes burned, throat tightening, like something wanted to come out—but nothing did. She picked up the pen anyway. Her hand trembled. She didn’t write a poem.

He never spoke much about his past, and he certainly never let anyone close enough to touch it. The people around him learned quickly: Guren wasn’t someone you questioned. He was sharp, calculated, and always ten steps ahead. He didn’t chase affection. He didn’t seek comfort. Love, relationships, any form of emotional intimacy—none of it had a place in his world. At least, that had been true. Until her. Y/n. She came into his life without warning. Not loud, not forceful. Just… present. And that was enough. Y/n carried herself with a quiet strength. She was striking—not only in appearance but in presence. There was something about her that turned heads in a room, something beyond the way she looked. She was intelligent, skilled with a blade, and trusted by those who rarely trusted anyone. Respected. Feared when necessary.

She moved like someone who had nothing to prove and yet everything to protect. To everyone else, she was the golden standard. But to Guren, she was dangerous—for reasons he couldn’t put into words. He never expected to marry her. That part wasn’t planned. He told himself it was tactical, that it was necessary. But even as he stood beside her, reciting vows with a voice that barely trembled, he knew he was lying. Something about her disarmed him in a way nothing else could. Still, Guren kept his distance. His face never softened. His voice remained even, unreadable. Not because he felt nothing—but because he felt too much. He had loved once before. Deeply. A love that had been torn from him, twisted into something monstrous. She had turned into a demon right before his eyes, and Guren had been forced to live with that loss ever since. The memory of it hardened him. Taught him never to trust the softness of love again. But Y/n’s presence chipped away at that foundation. She didn’t push. She didn’t pry. She simply remained close, as if waiting for him to meet her halfway. And maybe that’s what unsettled him the most—how easily she saw through him. How patient she was with a man who barely knew how to be held. Still, he kept his secrets. Still, he turned away when her gaze lingered too long. And yet—he never once walked away.

The air was heavy that morning—not just with fog, but with the weight of what was coming. The operation had been weeks in planning: a split formation. A smaller, elite unit would engage the vampire nobles head-on, while the rest of the troops swept through the outskirts, reclaiming lost ground and securing territory. Y/n stood among the chosen few. Six teams had been assigned to the frontline assault—hers included. Guren’s unit. Shinoa’s. And three others trained for confrontation. Their mission was simple but deadly: neutralize the nobles. All of them. She spotted Guren near a rusted-out military truck, poring over a map layered with pins and red markings. He looked the same as he had the night before—stone-faced and rigid, his silence hanging like a blade between them. The argument they’d had still echoed in her mind, and clearly, it hadn’t left his either. “Guren,” she called as she approached, her tone steady. He didn’t respond. “Guren,” she repeated, louder this time. He finally looked up, irritation flickering in his eyes like the briefest stormcloud. “Can’t you see I’m busy here, Y/n?” His voice was flat, dismissive. Cold. She narrowed her eyes slightly. “You don’t have to snap,” she muttered, then let out a breath. “Anyway, my team and I can sweep the park’s left flank. It’ll give us better positioning on the south corridor.” One hand moved to her hip while the other casually reached out to brush a bit of lint from his hair—a quiet gesture she didn’t even think about.

Guren scowled. Without hesitation, he grabbed her wrist, lowered it gently but firmly to her side, and stepped back. “Negative. You’re posted at city hall,” he said, his voice like stone. She blinked. “You’ve already got twenty JIDA soldiers stationed there. Why me?" He didn’t waver. “Because you’re the only one I trust to bring down Crowley.” And with that, he turned away. Y/n frowned. “They can hold their own, can’t they?” she asked, not quite ready to let the conversation end like that. But he didn’t turn back. “Don’t. I’ve got rookies to punish right now.” He disappeared into the building where Shinoa’s team was already gathering, the door slamming shut behind him. For a moment, Y/n stood in place, heat rising in her chest—not quite anger, not quite hurt. Just that familiar ache of being kept at arm’s length by the one person who never let anyone in. A chuckle broke through her thoughts. Shinya appeared at her side, his hand landing lightly on her shoulder. “Your husband sure has a way with people,” he said with a dry grin. Y/n exhaled through her nose, her gaze still on the doorway Guren had vanished through. “Yeah,” she muttered. “He always has.” Then she turned and walked back toward her squad.

Y/n stood at the edge of the broken sidewalk, watching her squad check weapons and confirm formations. Their breath steamed in the early chill, nerves thinly veiled by quiet conversation and casual discipline. She kept her focus on them, anchoring herself in the calm before the inevitable chaos. Then, without warning, the building across the street exploded outward. Smoke and shattered concrete burst from the doors as a body came flying through the air. Guren. He hit the ground hard, boots skidding along the asphalt before he caught himself. A second later, Yuu landed in a crouch nearby, sword already drawn. Shinoa and the rest of their squad stumbled out behind them, coughing through the haze. Y/n's eyes narrowed. It wasn’t an ambush. No—she recognized this. Guren’s method of discipline. She exhaled, pressing a hand to her forehead. “Of course,” she muttered. Shinoa’s team had been late. This was the price. Guren rose to his feet, sword drawn now. Yuu didn’t hesitate—he rushed forward, blade flashing as he lunged for the superior officer. Guren parried with practiced ease, their weapons clashing in sharp bursts. Shinoa shouted something from the sidelines, but it was lost in the noise.

The others joined in—Yoichi, Mitsuba, Kimizuki—each attacking with full intent, knowing Guren would show no leniency. It was a brutal, fast-paced skirmish, but it didn’t last long. Within minutes, they were all disarmed, grounded, groaning in pain or gasping for breath. Guren stood over them, calm and unshaken, lowering his sword with an air of finality. “Alright,” he said, voice firm. “Shinoa’s team will now be supervised by Makoto’s unit. Makoto, they’re under your watch. You’ll train them until they’re fit to show up on time.” There were no protests, just a few nods and soft grumbles. He turned his attention to Yoichi. “You’ll train directly under Shinya.” Yoichi straightened with a breathless nod. Guren didn’t wait for thanks. As the groups began to separate and fall into new formation, Y/n turned to walk away—ready to regroup with her own squad—when she felt a gentle pull at her wrist. “Y/n,” Guren said quietly. She stopped, glancing over her shoulder. His fingers lingered at her wrist before he let go. “Be safe,” he said, softer this time. He reached out, brushing his thumb gently across her cheek, then leaned forward and pressed a quiet kiss to her lips. Brief, grounding. “You do too,” she murmured back, then turned and walked away. By the time she reached City Hall, her team was already stationed. They were crouched beneath the shadows of the crumbling stone structure, weapons ready, eyes on the clock. The building loomed above them like a husk of its former self, all sharp edges and scorched walls—yet it was the perfect vantage point for the ambush.

They waited. "Captain," Mai said, swinging her legs as she sat on a half-fallen ledge, staring up at the overcast sky. "Why did you marry Lieutenant Colonel Guren?" Y/n blinked, caught off guard, then chuckled softly. “Honestly? I’m not sure.” She leaned back against the wall, arms folded. “I married him because I loved him. But it was more than that. He’s strong. Focused. The kind of man who doesn’t bend, even when everything else is falling apart. There’s... conviction in him. He fights like it’s the only thing left keeping him alive.” Taiju, seated nearby as he cleaned his rifle, glanced over. “You sure do love him a lot.” Y/n smiled faintly, tilting her head. “Mhm.” Her gaze shifted toward Akane, perched at the far end of the structure with binoculars pressed to her face. “How’s it looking?” “Clear so far,” Akane answered. “No visual on Crowley. We're still fifteen minutes out from the strike.” Y/n nodded. “Alright. When is Yuto—” “I’ve been back for eight minutes,” came a voice behind her. Y/n turned. Yuto grinned sheepishly as he stepped forward, slinging his pack off his shoulder. Akane adjusted her focus, then stiffened. “Captain. We’ve got eyes on Crowley.” Y/n straightened immediately, rolling her shoulders and stretching her neck. She checked the time, then shut the small timer device in her palm with a soft click. “Alright,” she said, standing. “We’ve got one minute until go-time.” Her voice carried, and the team rose to attention. “Prepare yourselves,” she called, her tone shifting—sharper now, commanding. “This is it. Eyes sharp, movements tighter. We strike hard and fast.” The JIDA soldiers flanked her team, armor clinking quietly in the low wind. The signal was nearly here. Y/n looked down at the courtyard below, hand tightening on the hilt of her blade. “Let’s move.”

The clash of steel and cries of soldiers echoed through the halls behind her, but Y/n didn’t stop. Her boots pounded up the staircase, lungs burning as she moved through the haze of smoke and gunpowder. Her team had already broken the front lines and pushed inside. Now it was her turn to finish the job. She reached the top floor, heart thundering. The air shifted. At the end of the corridor, the grand double doors stood cracked open, light seeping through like a breath of something sinister. Her fingers curled tighter around the hilt of her sword as she stepped forward. Inside, he was waiting. Crowley Eusford stood near the far window, framed by the fractured sunlight. At his sides loomed his two attendants, Horn and Chess Belle, their eyes sharp with amusement and bloodlust. Crowley’s expression shifted into a smirk the moment he saw her. “Well, now. Isn’t this one a cutie,” he purred, voice low and mocking. “Don’t call me that, you bloodsucker,” Y/n snapped, storming into the room with her blade drawn. “Oh, poor baby,” Horn cooed with a syrupy tone that made Y/n’s skin crawl. “Shut your mouth,” Y/n growled. But before she could take another step, the sound of something slicing through the air cracked behind her—and pain exploded across her back. Horn’s whip had struck. The force sent Y/n tumbling to the ground, her sword clattering from her grip as she cried out, her breath caught in her throat.

“Shit,” she hissed under her breath, trying to push herself upright. She didn’t get far. Crowley approached in a casual stroll, stopping above her with a tilt of his head. He crouched, gloved fingers threading into her hair, and without warning, yanked her head back. Pain shot down her spine as she screamed. “Tsk. Too noisy,” he muttered with mock irritation. His thumb brushed across her cheek, slowly, deliberately. His eyes gleamed with something darker than hunger. “You really are pretty,” he murmured—then, with a flick of his arm, hurled her across the room. Her body slammed into the wall with a sickening thud. Time lost all meaning after that. Pain radiated through every limb like wildfire, her vision blurring at the edges as she lay on the cold floor, gasping. Still, her hand fumbled for her sword. The air shifted again. Glass shattered above her as something exploded through the window—Yoichi’s cursed gear had struck, the room filling with fragments and smoke. The light cut through the dark like hope, and Y/n’s lips curled into a faint smile. But before she could even stand, a hand closed around her neck. Crowley. His grip was ironclad, lifting her effortlessly off the floor. Her boots kicked against the air, her fingers clawing at his arm as she choked against the pressure. Another voice rang out. “Y/n!” Guren. He charged into the room, blade unsheathed and fury blazing in his eyes. Crowley didn’t flinch.

“Ah. I’ve seen you before.” Guren swung hard, but the noble met his strike with ease. The clash of steel rang out, raw and sharp. Y/n struggled in Crowley’s grip, a hiss of pain leaving her throat. Guren’s eyes flicked to her, jaw clenched, rage simmering beneath the surface. In one swift motion, he pulled a stack of paper charms from his coat, igniting them between his fingers. “You damn bloodsucker!” he snarled, hurling them toward the vampire. The explosion lit up the room—but Crowley spun his sword, deflecting the blast with a scoff. “Someone’s upset,” he taunted, eyes glinting. He lunged toward Guren, but another blade intercepted the strike. Shinya. “You’ve gotta keep your eyes on your target,” Shinya said, grinning lazily, though his stance was anything but relaxed. Crowley’s smile faded. With a snarl, he hurled Y/n’s body straight toward the two men like a ragdoll. The impact was brutal—she slammed into Guren and Shinya, sending all three of them crashing through the wall behind them. Dust and debris clouded the air as they tumbled into the adjacent room, bodies hitting the ground hard, weapons skidding across the floor.

“Y/n! Are you okay?” Guren was already by her side, his voice sharp with panic as he knelt beside her. Y/n sat up slowly, her breathing uneven, one arm clutching the other as a streak of pain radiated down her shoulder. “Shit,” she muttered through gritted teeth. “This is bad.” “She’s hurt,” Guren snapped, his eyes flicking over her injuries. He helped ease her back against the couch behind them—what little remained of it in the wreckage of the blast. Shinya crouched nearby, tension radiating off him like heat. “We need to move. Now,” Shinya urged, his voice clipped and tight. “There’s no chance of taking him head-on like this.” Y/n winced as she shifted, pain flaring in her side. Guren hovered at her shoulder, frustration darkening his expression. “How the hell did this happen, Y/n? I thought you had it under control.” “I did!” she shouted, flinching. “Guys, this isn’t the time—” Shinya started. “If you did, then how the hell did it turn into this?” Guren barked, rising to his feet in a flash of fury. Y/n shot him a glare. “I had it under wraps, Guren. The only reason I made it that far up was because Taiju and the others cleared a path. They’re still down there fighting, holding off reinforcements while I handled Crowley.” The room fell tense with the weight of her words. But the moment was cut short by a new voice. “Well, well. What’s the hold-up?” Crowley’s tone dripped with amusement as he strolled into the shattered room, his boots crunching over debris.

Horn and Belle flanked him, their expressions eager. Y/n froze. Her fingers instinctively curled tighter around the hilt of her sword. “Shit,” Shinya muttered, raising his sniper rifle again. “Ooh, are we interrupting something?” Belle chimed, twirling a blade between her fingers. “Looks like we’re going to have to entertain them.” Crowley’s eyes locked onto Guren. Guren exhaled, muttering a curse under his breath before stepping forward. Without hesitation, he struck. Steel met steel with a resounding clash as Crowley caught his blade, and the two began circling, the fight resuming with ferocity. Y/n steadied herself, gritting her teeth as she pushed off the couch and rose to her feet once more. Her sword slid back into her grasp like an extension of her own will. Across the room, Shinya leveled his sniper, eye locked to the scope. “Guren—hold him still!” he called, trying to anticipate Crowley’s movements. But the noble moved with impossible speed, his body a blur of red and shadow. Before Shinya could fire, a snap tore through the air—and then the sting. Horn’s whip cracked across his chest, forcing him back with a grunt of pain. She laughed. “Let’s make this a little more fun.” Y/n’s gaze locked onto her. She stepped forward, raising her blade, jaw clenched. “You damn wicked thing,” she hissed through her teeth.

Meanwhile, Guren fought with precision, each strike more desperate than the last. He feinted left, then tossed a bomb charm directly at Crowley’s feet. It exploded, buying them seconds. “Now!” he shouted. Shinya didn’t hesitate—he slung Y/n’s arm around his shoulder and bolted toward the hallway. Guren followed, covering their retreat as they burst from the broken room, debris trailing in their wake. They didn’t get far. A deafening crash echoed behind them as Crowley tore through the wall like it was paper. Shinya stumbled. Blood smeared across his chest from a fresh cut—Horn’s whip had found him again. He gasped, knees buckling as he lowered Y/n to the floor, bracing himself against the wall. Guren turned, stepping between them and the advancing noble. He struck again, slashing through the air, but Crowley ducked effortlessly, sidestepping each swing. Then, faster than Y/n could shout a warning, Crowley’s hand shot out and closed around Guren’s throat. Y/n screamed, heart, lurching in her chest as she watched Guren’s boots lift from the ground. “Guren!” He choked, legs kicking against the air as Crowley’s grip tightened.

Y/n tried to rise. Her trembling fingers pressed into the debris-strewn floor, but her legs gave way beneath her, sending her crashing back down with a cry of pain. Her arm pulsed with a deep, burning ache, and her lungs struggled to keep up with the panic rising in her chest. “Guren!” she screamed. He was still airborne, Crowley’s hand locked around his throat, slamming him against the far wall like he weighed nothing. Guren hit hard, the sound of impact echoing across the ruined corridor. Just as Crowley advanced to finish the blow, the ceiling below them erupted with an explosion of dust and stone. Yuu landed first, sword gleaming, his expression grim. Behind him came Kimizuki, Yoichi, and Mitsuba, each hitting the floor with weapons drawn and eyes locked on the high noble. “Captain Y/n!” Shinoa’s voice cut through the chaos. She was at her side in seconds, dropping to her knees and hooking her arm under Y/n’s to help her upright. Y/n leaned into her, vision blurring from more than just the pain. "They came," she breathed. Crowley turned from Guren, eyes glittering with interest as the squad engaged. Yuu attacked head-on, blades flashing, while Kimizuki and Mitsuba flanked him, Yoichi taking position with his bow in the rear. “Leave! Retreat! That’s an order!” Guren’s voice rang out through the din. “Are you crazy!?” Y/n shouted back, struggling to pull herself free from Shinoa’s support as she watched Guren get flung into the wall once more. “Guren!” Before anyone could respond, more footsteps pounded up the stairs.

Guren’s unit had arrived. Goshi raised his pipe, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke that spread rapidly through the room. An instant later, the battlefield transformed—an illusion cast over the room, turning the walls and floor into molten lava, distorting space and perception. But Crowley wasn’t fooled. He moved like a shadow in firelight, breaking through the illusion as if it were fog. Guren struck again—but he was slower now. Blood on his lips. Bruised ribs. He managed to plant a hit before Crowley retaliated, sending him skidding across the floor. “Go now!” Guren roared. “That’s an order! Shinya, you’re in command! My last order!” “No!” Y/n shouted, stumbling forward, her hand outstretched. “I’m not leaving you!” Shinya caught her just in time, grabbing her arm and pulling her back. “Y/n, we have to go!” “Let me go—Shinya, let go of me!” she cried, trying to fight against his grip. “Y/n!” Guren’s voice cracked through the air, laced with agony. “Go! Shinya, get her out of here—now!” Without another word, Shinya hoisted her over his shoulder. She screamed, kicking, her fists pounding uselessly into his back. “GUREN!” she cried out as the hallway slipped behind them. He met her eyes just once more. And he smiled—a faint, broken thing—before mouthing a word. Sorry. Then Crowley struck again. Y/n’s scream caught in her throat as they burst through the lower floor, the same open space where Guren had once issued punishment to Shinoa’s squad. Now, it was filled with the sound of running feet, coughing soldiers, and smoke curling through shattered windows.

Shinya set her down in the corner, her body too weak to resist anymore. Her sobs were silent at first, then ripped from her chest in waves as she buried her face into her arms. Akane knelt beside her, one hand gently resting on her shoulder. “Captain…” Y/n didn’t speak. “Mai and Yuto have already set out to inform the other squads,” Akane said gently. “Just like you asked.” Y/n nodded numbly, her hands curled against her chest. A voice spoke from nearby. “You have to trust him, Y/n.” She looked up to see Shinya crouching beside her. His tone was softer now. “Guren’s not going to die. You know that,” he said with a tired smile. “He’s too damn stubborn.” Before she could respond, Yuu stepped forward. “I’m going back.” The room froze. Shinya stood. “Are you insane? There’s a high noble still standing over him!” Yuu didn’t flinch. “I’m not leaving him behind.” His fingers flipped a small vial in the air—black pills. The kind that twisted a human’s power into something inhuman. Shinya’s face darkened. “Shit.” He took a sharp breath and turned. “Goshi!” he barked. “Get Guren’s wife and her squad to the airstrip. Now!” “Understood.” Before Y/n could protest, Goshi reached for her. “No—wait—” she pleaded, reaching toward where Yuu still stood. But her voice was swallowed by the noise. Goshi hauled her to her feet and moved fast, slipping into the side corridor, out through the compound’s wrecked frame.

The airstrip buzzed with urgency. Crates were hauled onto the airship in a steady rhythm, soldiers shouting orders across the tarmac, the roar of engines humming in the background. Smoke still lingered in the sky behind them, a reminder of the battle they’d left behind. Y/n stood just outside the boarding ramp, her team gathered around her in a loose semicircle. Her gaze was distant, locked somewhere past the moving vehicles and loading crews, mind tethered to the battlefield she’d been forced to abandon. She flinched slightly when a voice broke the static behind her. “Captain Y/n.” She turned and straightened immediately. Kureto Hiragi stood behind her, hands folded behind his back, expression unreadable as always. His presence alone shifted the air around them. “Where is Lieutenant Colonel Guren?” he asked, sharp and direct. Y/n bowed her head respectfully. “He’s currently engaged in combat. He was held back by Crowley, the vampire noble. Shinya and Shinoa’s units returned to retrieve him. They should arrive shortly.”

Kureto offered her a folded sheet of paper without another word. “We’re departing now. Relay this to them when they arrive.” She accepted the message with both hands, nodding. “Yes, sir.” As he turned and strode off toward the airship, Y/n stepped away from the path and lowered herself to a crate beside her team, the paper still clenched tightly in her hand. Silence fell over them for a moment—until Yuto spoke with a grin. “Captain, don’t look so sad. Doesn’t suit your face.” Without looking, Y/n reached out and smacked the back of his head. “Shut up,” she muttered. But the breath she let out after was heavier. She stared down at the paper in her lap, fingers gently tracing its edges. “I don’t know… I just—” Her voice caught. “I can’t lose him like this.” The noise around them faded, leaving only the low hum of loading equipment and the whistle of the wind. The silence was broken again—this time by Mai. “Captain… why were you and Lieutenant Colonel Guren arguing last night?” Y/n blinked, lifting her head slightly. Her eyes drifted toward Mai, then over to the rest of the team, who were all quietly listening. She hesitated—then exhaled. “It was about his sword.” Taiju raised an eyebrow. “His sword?” Y/n gave a small, humorless chuckle.

“Yeah. Guren’s sword holds the soul of his ex-girlfriend. She died when she became a demon. I know it sounds stupid… but we argued about it.” Her gaze dropped to her hands again. The paper crinkled softly beneath her fingers. “He told me a few days ago that the sword had been bothering him lately. Said it was keeping him up at night.” Her voice grew quieter. “So I asked him to get a new one. A different cursed gear—something that didn’t keep reopening the same wound.” Yuto leaned forward. “Did he do it?” Y/n shook her head. “Not even close.” There was a faint smile tugging at her lips now. Tired. Fond. “He said it was his first weapon. The one he wielded when he became a soldier under the Moon Demon Company. Said he couldn’t let it go.” Her fingers curled around the edge of the crate. She looked past her team now, eyes narrowing as she watched another airship lift into the sky. “He’s a stubborn man,” she said, quietly. “Always working. Never slowing down. He doesn’t say it, but I think… carrying that sword is the only way he knows how to remember her.” Y/n fell silent after that. The paper was still clenched in her hands. Behind them, the loading ramp lifted and another transport took to the air—leaving only Y/n’s team grounded, still waiting.

The voices of her squad faded into the background—low murmurs, half-hearted jokes, boots scraping against the concrete beneath the open sky. Mai and the others kept their distance now, giving Y/n the kind of silence that wasn't asked for but quietly respected. She sat alone near the edge of the tarmac, elbows on her knees, head bowed low. Her fingers absentmindedly turned the wedding ring around her finger, again and again, the cool metal catching the dim light of the hangar. It was almost meditative, the way she kept twisting it, pressing her thumb against the small engraving on the inside. Her eyes locked on it—but her mind drifted far from here. The weight of exhaustion in her chest wasn’t from the battle, or the tension of waiting for orders. It was from him. From last night. And before she could stop herself, her thoughts slipped backward—unfolding the moment like an old wound ripped open again. That room. That sword. His voice. The argument. The things he said. And the way they cut deeper than any blade ever could.

The room was dim, shadows clinging to the corners like they didn’t want to leave. Guren had just returned, pulling off his coat with a slow, heavy motion, the familiar weight of blood, exhaustion, and war clinging to his shoulders. Y/n stood by the doorway, her arms crossed. Her eyes weren’t angry at first—just tired. Hurt, even. And quiet. “You need to get rid of that sword,” she said. He didn’t turn. “Not this again.” “Yes, this again. Because you can’t sleep. You barely talk to me anymore. And you keep staring at it like it’s the only thing you care about.” Guren let out a breath. Not a sigh—an exhale of frustration. “Y/n, not tonight.” “No,” she said sharply, stepping forward. “You always say that. ‘Not tonight,’ ‘Not now,’ ‘Later.’ I’ve been patient, Guren. I’ve watched you break apart piece by piece, and every time I try to help, you push me away.” “Because you don’t understand!” he snapped suddenly, his voice like a gunshot in the quiet room. “You never did.” Y/n’s eyes widened. “Then help me. Tell me. Why do you keep holding onto that cursed thing?” He finally turned, his expression unreadable—except for the coldness in his eyes.

"Because it’s the only thing I trust.” The words were like ice water to the chest. “You don’t trust me?” “I trust the blade more than I trust anyone else,” he said, not even blinking. “At least it doesn’t lie. At least it doesn’t expect me to be someone I’m not.” She stepped back slightly, blinking. “So what am I, then? A lie?” “You’re a distraction,” he said flatly. “One I should’ve never allowed.” Her breath caught. His voice was steady. “You think you’re helping, but all you’re doing is dragging me down. This life—this job—what we’re in the middle of? It’s not made for soft hearts and romantic delusions.” “You don’t mean that.” “Don’t I?” he hissed. “Look at you. You want me to throw away my weapon—my only connection to someone who mattered—because you’re insecure about a dead girl.” Y/n’s mouth opened in shock. “You’re talking about your ex like she was worth more than everything we’ve built together.” “She was.” The words left his mouth before he could stop them. She froze, chest rising and falling as if the air itself had been knocked out of her. Guren didn’t stop. “She died because of me. She died fighting for something bigger than either of us. And you—” he gestured to her, voice rising. “You come in here talking about your feelings like we have the luxury to even care about that anymore.” Tears stung in Y/n’s eyes, but she refused to let them fall. “So I’m weak because I care about you?”

“No. You’re weak because you want me to become something I’ll never be,” he said, voice cutting. “I’m not your savior. I’m not your husband right now. I’m a weapon, Y/n. That’s all I’ve ever been.” She stood there for a long moment, just staring at him. At the man who once held her like she was the last good thing in the world—now speaking to her like she was just another burden. And he kept going. “You want me to be soft. To be open. But all that ever does is get people killed. You think I don’t see how disappointed you are? You look at me like I’m some broken version of the man you married.” “I don’t—” she started, voice cracking. “You do,” he interrupted, tone low and dangerous. “And honestly? Maybe you should’ve thought harder before marrying a man who never stopped loving someone else.” Her lips parted—but no sound came out. The silence that followed was deafening. The cursed sword sat untouched in the corner. And neither of them moved.

“Captain.” A voice broke through the static in her mind. Y/n blinked up, her focus snapping back into the present as Akane crouched in front of her, hand gently tapping her shoulder. “Sorry,” Y/n said, forcing a faint chuckle. “I… spaced out.” Akane offered a soft, understanding smile but her tone turned brisk. “Shinya and the others have arrived.” Y/n stood immediately, brushing her hands on her thighs before heading toward the group disembarking from the returning transport. Her expression was composed, but every step toward Shinya made the ring on her finger feel heavier. “Shinya,” she called as she approached. He turned to her, eyes shadowed with something unspoken. “Kureto gave me this. He said we’re to remain here and wait for further orders.” She held out the paper. Shinya took it with a nod and scanned the contents. “Damn it…” he muttered under his breath, then turned to the group around them. “We’ve been ordered to hold position here until further command.” A murmur of restrained frustration passed among the soldiers. But Y/n’s focus stayed locked on Shinya’s face.

Her voice lowered, sharper now. “Where’s Guren?” Shinya hesitated. Just long enough for her stomach to twist. She stepped closer. “Where is my husband, Shinya?” His expression gave it away before the words ever reached his mouth. “We couldn’t get him out.” The words were simple, but they cracked through her like thunder. Y/n’s heart dropped. Her lips parted, but no sound came out at first. Then, before she could even fully process it, another voice entered the scene—casual, indifferent, and jarringly out of place. “Well,” Kureto Hiragi said, striding up with his hands behind his back, “looks like the fun’s over. Another successful test run, wouldn’t you say?” His cold smile faltered the moment he caught the look on Shinya’s face. “Where’s Guren?” he asked flatly. No one answered. They didn’t need to. Shinya’s silence was the only response Kureto needed. Kureto exhaled through his nose, annoyed. “Damn.” He didn’t pause for sympathy. He simply turned on his heel and snapped to one of his men. “Unload the prototype. I want the tank off that plane now.” Soldiers immediately moved into formation, working with practiced urgency to reveal the massive weapon stored inside the aircraft’s cargo bay. The whir of machinery filled the air—but all Y/n could hear was the echo of her husband’s voice.

Without warning, the cargo began to shake. A loud clang rang out—and then it started. Metal pipes shot violently from the hull of the airship like tendrils, twisting and slamming into the ground with terrifying force. Screams erupted across the landing strip as soldiers scattered, some struck, others pinned. Y/n spun around, heart leaping into her throat. Her comrades—her friends—were in chaos. “Move—!” she started to shout, but a strong hand grabbed her wrist, yanking her backward just as a pipe pierced the spot where she’d been standing. She stumbled, colliding into Goshi’s chest. “Shit! What the hell is this!?” Shinya barked, backing up beside her. Kureto stood calm, far too calm, eyes fixed on the monstrous scene unfolding from the cargo bay. “This,” he said with a faint smile, “is the Seraph of the End.” The pipes continued to burst out, thrashing wildly—some glowing with cursed energy, some dragging injured soldiers toward the center of the vessel. Screams became cries of agony. The smell of blood hit the air. Then—movement from the treeline. “No...” Y/n muttered. Vampires. Dozens of them, emerging fast, shadows dancing in the heat of the chaos. “God damn it.”

She tore herself from Goshi’s arms, eyes locked on the advancing figures. She drew her blade in one sharp motion. “We’ve got company!” Her voice rang over the screams. “Y/n’s squad—move out!” Her soldiers snapped into motion. Alongside Shinoa’s team, they surged forward to meet the enemy. Blades clashed. Arrows flew. Cursed gear lit the night. “Guren!” a voice cried out through the fight—Yuu’s. Y/n froze mid-swing. Her gaze shot toward him. He was staring at something—someone. A figure emerges through the misted light of the cargo bay. Tall. Familiar. His hair was swept back, his stance rigid—but it was the eyes that made Y/n's heart drop. Red. Crimson red. She froze in place. “Captain!” Taiju’s voice snapped her back. “Focus!” She spun just in time to slice through a vampire lunging toward her. Blood sprayed across her cheek. Her breath came in hard gasps.

And then the light from the cargo shifted—blinding and otherworldly. Y/n’s gaze lifted. From within the core of the cargo bay, a figure descended—glowing. A small girl. “Mirai,” she whispered, eyes wide. Kimizuki screamed her name. “Mirai!” His voice cracked, raw and horrified. “What the hell have you done to my sister!?” he roared. “Don’t!” Shinoa’s voice cut across the battlefield as Yoichi held Kimizuki back. But it was too late. Mirai hovered, a golden trumpet in her hands, eyes blank and unrecognizing. Y/n growled under her breath. “This is insane.” She turned to her team, blade dripping red. “Listen up! We get Kimizuki’s sister back. No matter what.” The squad gave a unified shout as they rushed in, blades swinging with new purpose. Y/n cut through vampires with deadly precision. Her movements were like a dance—elegant, ruthless, efficient. Blood hit the ground like rain. “You’re in the way!” she shouted, flipping mid-air and driving her sword through a noble’s throat.

But the instant she landed, her body stopped cold. He was there. Directly in front of her. Guren. Standing tall, unreadable as ever—but his cursed blade was drawn. Behind him, Yuu and a boy—Mikaela—were crouched, seemingly stunned. Mikaela clutched her side, blood oozing through her fingers. And then—Guren moved. His sword came down toward her with no warning. Y/n reacted by instinct, blocking just in time, the impact vibrating down her arms. She leapt back, eyes wide, heart pounding. “My poor wife,” Guren said, his voice laced with an eerie calm. “You sure are strong.” Her chest tightened. “My love… what happened to you?” He only tilted his head slightly, smiling faintly. “Hmm?” Y/n stepped forward, her blade still drawn, her breath trembling. “What happened to you, Guren?” she asked again, voice rising through the noise, tears stinging at her eyes. He sighed, lowering his sword just slightly. “Baby,” he murmured with a slow, unsettling smile. “We’re going to end the vampires.” His eyes glinted, red as blood. Y/n stood frozen, a storm of disbelief, fear, and grief boiling in her chest. Tears slid down her cheeks as her grip tightened around her sword. Her voice cracked. “Guren…”

“Shh… it’s okay, baby.” His voice was almost tender—hauntingly so. Guren’s hand, stained with the blood of comrades and enemies alike, cupped her cheek as if it still belonged there. His touch was soft, careful, the way he used to hold her during quieter nights. Y/n closed her eyes for half a second, letting herself lean into the warmth of it, craving even the illusion of the man he once was. He leaned down and kissed her. And then the world shattered. A piercing, blinding pain ripped through her abdomen. Y/n gasped. She looked down, breath catching in her throat. His sword. Driven straight into her stomach. Her blood coated the blade. She stared back up at him in disbelief—eyes wide, lips trembling. “G-Guren…” she whispered. He said nothing. Behind them, chaos erupted. “Captain!” Akane screamed, running toward her. Y/n collapsed forward, caught just in time in Akane’s arms. The girl’s voice cracked with panic, her grip shaking. “No—no, no, no. Stay with me, please!” Taiju, Yuto, and Mai moved in, drawing their weapons, forming a line between Guren and what was left of their captain.

Their eyes were wide with shock. With rage. But Guren didn’t hesitate. “Move,” he said flatly—and struck. In one swift motion, he sent the three flying with brutal, bone-snapping force. Blood splattered across the sand. “No!” Akane shouted, throwing herself over Y/n’s bleeding form. Y/n wheezed, struggling to speak, her vision going dark around the edges. The pain was unbearable, her body trembling in Akane’s arms. “S-Shit…” she gasped. “It… hurts…” “You’re okay,” Akane murmured, holding her tighter. “We’re gonna get you out of here, I swear—just hold on—” But then Akane froze. Her breath caught. Y/n looked up just in time to see the sword slide through Akane’s chest. Blood soaked her armor. Her lips parted slightly—then nothing. Her body dropped beside Y/n’s with a dull thud. Y/n screamed, her voice raw, broken. “AKANE!” She tried to crawl toward her, but her limbs gave out. Her strength was gone. All she could do was cry—loud, aching sobs as her hand reached out, shaking, toward the girl who had just died trying to save her. And Guren knelt again. Right in front of her.

But beyond the classroom, his name carried weight for something else entirely—his strength. Feared and respected across the prefecture, Kaji wasn’t someone people dared to cross. And yet, beneath the layers of his reputation, there was one person who saw a different side of him—Y/n. A quiet, intelligent girl with a gentle heart. She was known not just for her good grades, but for being the only one Kaji ever let his guard down around. Y/n knew who he was—what he did. She knew about the fights, the danger, and the risks that came with being by his side. But every time, Kaji would reassure her in his quiet way: I’m okay. I’m safe. And for a while, she believed him. Until everything began to change. There were fewer hangouts now—less laughter, fewer moments that felt like theirs alone. It wasn’t neglect, not exactly… but something quieter. Something colder. A distance that crept in without warning. Y/n couldn’t quite place when things started shifting, or why. One day everything was fine. The next, Kaji was gone more than he was around. He spent more and more time with Enomoto and Kusumi, brushing her off with a casual, “I’ve got other priorities right now.” It stung—those words more than he probably realized. The silence that followed. The way his eyes stopped meeting hers the way they used to.

At first, it hurt. Deeply. But Y/n, ever understanding, tried to make peace with it. She told herself that he had responsibilities. That Furin wasn’t just a school—it was a shield for the people in their district. And Kaji wasn’t just her boyfriend. He was a protector. A leader. Someone others needed. So, piece by piece, she let him go. Even if her heart quietly ached every time he walked away. On one rare evening, Ren Kaji finally had time to spend with Y/n. The two sat quietly in her room, the soft hum of the fan filling the silence between their words. For a while, they just talked—lighthearted things, things that felt normal again. But Y/n couldn’t ignore the weight in her chest any longer. “Ren?” she asked gently, her voice shifting the atmosphere between them. He glanced over, resting back on his hands. “Hmm?” he hummed, signaling he was listening. She took a slow breath, trying to find the right words. “This has been on my mind for a while, but… you’ve been a lot busier than usual.” His expression changed immediately—his jaw tightened, and the warmth in his eyes flickered out. “Look, I already told you,” he said, his voice cooler than before. “I’m gonna be busy. You know how things are with Furin.” “I know that,” Y/n said softly, not backing down. “I understand what you’re doing. Helping the residents, fixing buildings, protecting the area… I respect that.” She paused, letting her words settle between them before continuing. “But would it be too much to ask… for a little of that time to be spent with me?” Her eyes searched his face, hoping he’d understand. Hoping he'd hear the quiet plea behind her words. Kaji scoffed under his breath and looked away. “Here we go again,” he muttered with a coldness that didn’t reach his eyes.

“I just want to see you more… that’s all,” Y/n sighed, her voice soft, almost pleading. Kaji leaned back with a scoff, his tone sharp. “Do you have to be so clingy?” Y/n froze. The word hit her like a slap—sharp, unexpected, and laced with something colder than she’d ever heard from him before. “Wait… what?” she blinked, stunned, her voice barely above a whisper. Kaji ran a hand through his hair, clearly annoyed. “What more do you want from me? I was lucky I didn’t have patrol today. I chose to spend it with you. Can’t you just be grateful for that?” The way he said it—like being with her was some burden—cut deeper than he realized. “Ren…” she started again, her voice shaking, trying to hold the pieces together. But he didn’t let her speak. “You’re annoying, I swear,” he snapped, rising to his feet. “Don’t you get it? Protecting this area—keeping things in check—that gives people here a chance at freedom. I don’t have time to babysit your feelings.” He turned to face her fully, eyes hard. “You’re so stuck up. Take the hint already—back the fuck off.” The words shattered her. Tears began to fall before she even realized she was crying. Her heart throbbed in her chest, the sting of his words echoing louder than the silence in the room. “There you go again,” Kaji muttered bitterly. “Crying like always.” He grabbed his jacket from the edge of her bed, and without another glance, walked out the door—just like that. Gone. Y/n stared at the space he left behind, her body trembling as her hand slowly moved to cover her mouth, trying to stifle the sob building in her throat. She wiped her cheeks, but the tears wouldn’t stop. No matter how many times she tried. She stood up on shaky legs, her breathing uneven as she stepped outside for air, hoping that somehow the night breeze would take the pain with it. But it didn’t.

As Y/n walked aimlessly through the dimly lit streets, the chill in the night air barely registered. Her mind was still spinning from earlier—Ren’s voice, his words, the way he left without looking back. Her heart felt heavy, her legs moving without purpose. That’s when she noticed them. A group of boys standing near the edge of the sidewalk, all wearing matching maroon jackets with a silver serpent curling across the back. They stepped into her path before she could cross the street. She froze. “Hey there, cutie,” one of them said, smirking. “Aren’t you Ren Kaji’s girl?” “Uh… yeah,” she answered, stiffening. Another boy chuckled and stepped closer. “Someone that pretty shouldn’t be out here all alone. It’s dangerous.” “You’re cute,” added a third, his long curly hair falling over his eyes as he reached out to touch her face. Y/n flinched back, voice tight. “Please… don’t touch me.” “Oh?” he grinned, voice thick with mockery. “Or what?” Without warning, his hand snapped around her throat.

Y/n gasped, her fingers scrambling to pull him off. “Stop!” she choked, her voice hoarse with panic. But he didn’t stop—he laughed, squeezing harder before shoving her with brutal force. She stumbled backward and crashed into the alley wall, her shoulder slamming the bricks. She let out a sharp cry as she crumpled to the ground. Pain exploded through her back, but before she could gather her breath, a heavy boot struck her ribs. “Stay down,” one of them hissed. Y/n groaned, arms instinctively wrapping around her sides as another kick landed—harder this time. “You’re nothing special without him around,” one sneered. She tried to scream, but a fist slammed into her jaw, snapping her head to the side. Her vision blurred. She tasted blood. “Look at her,” another sneered, grabbing the collar of her shirt. “Acting all high and mighty. Kaji’s little doll.” Y/n clawed at the hands tugging at her, nails scraping, teeth gritted. “Get off me!” But it only earned her a slap so hard her ears rang. She whimpered, barely able to move now. Her breath hitched as another hand grabbed her wrist and pinned her down. Her legs kicked out in desperation, but they were too many—too strong. “Let’s teach her what happens when a girl like her walks around alone,” one said darkly. Y/n’s throat tightened as her heart pounded wildly. Her voice, her fight, everything began to fade under the weight of their hands and the pounding in her head.

Her clothes were ripped off her body as she cried, the cold air biting at her exposed skin. She could feel the harsh pavement beneath her, her naked form trembling against the bitter night. Her sobs filled the alleyway, each one choking out of her throat as panic and shame consumed her. Before she could process the horror, she was being used—violated like she was nothing more than a toy. She screamed. Screamed from the pain. From the fear. From the helplessness of it all. “Stop!” she cried, her voice cracking. “Please—stop!” But they didn’t. It was happening, and she couldn’t stop it. Her body thrashed weakly, hands pushing against the weight holding her down, but her strength was gone—stolen along with everything else. And then—Right before the man could finish, his body jerked unnaturally. A sharp sound cut through the night—like a blow, heavy and fast. Before Y/n could even lift her head, the man came crashing down beside her with a sickening thud, the impact shaking the ground beneath her. Then silence. It all blurred. The pain. The cold. The shadows. The voices. Her sobs echoed one last time before her world faded into black.

As the man’s body hit the ground beside her, the sound of fast footsteps filled the alleyway. Sakura appeared first, fists clenched, eyes burning with fury. Without hesitation, he landed a brutal punch on one of the remaining men, sending him flying into the wall. The second barely had time to react before Hayato tackled him to the ground, while Nirei rushed in from behind. “Shit,” Sakura cursed under his breath, turning his head the moment his eyes caught Y/n’s exposed, trembling form on the pavement. “Hayato—do you have something? Anything I can cover her with?” Hayato didn’t hesitate. He tore off his school jacket and quickly draped it over Y/n’s body, shielding her as best he could from the cold and from prying eyes. “She’s freezing…” he muttered, his voice shaking. Meanwhile, Nirei pulled out his phone, fingers trembling as he dialed. The line clicked. “Kaji,” he said, his voice tight, urgent. “It’s Y/n. She’s… she’s badly injured. You need to come. Now.” There was a beat of silence on the other end—then the sound of Kaji’s sharp breath. He didn’t ask questions. He ran. By the time Kaji reached the hospital, his chest was heaving, sweat clinging to his skin. He burst through the entrance and followed the voices, turning corners in a panic until he saw her. Y/n. She was lying on a stretcher, barely conscious, her body wrapped in blankets and bandages. Tubes were connected to her arm, an oxygen mask gently pressed over her nose and mouth. Kaji stopped in his tracks. Everything inside him collapsed. The girl he once held, the girl who smiled even when he was at his worst—she was now motionless, her skin pale, her lips trembling from the cold and pain. His fists clenched as guilt choked him from the inside. He wasn't there.

Days went by, and Y/n still hadn’t woken up. She was lying in a hospital bed, completely still. Her face was swollen with deep bruises, her lip was cut and dry with blood, and faded handprints covered her arms and sides—ugly reminders of what had been done to her. Machines beeped quietly beside her, tubes hooked into her arms to keep her alive. Every time someone walked into the room, they had to prepare themselves to see her like that. Meanwhile, back at Furin High, something serious was going on. All the grade captains had been called to the rooftop—a place usually reserved for serious conversations and private meetings. The air was cold and tense, the wind pulling at their jackets, but no one seemed to care. Kaji sat near the railing, his elbows resting on his knees, his eyes staring at the ground. He hadn’t spoken much all day. Not to his friends. Not even to himself. His thoughts were a mess of guilt, anger, and regret. Sakura stood next to him, arms crossed, facing the rest of the group.

Across from them stood Umemiya, the top-ranking captain in all of Furin. Everyone was waiting for answers. Sakura finally broke the silence. “It happened a few nights ago,” he said, his voice steady but full of frustration. “Y/n was walking alone when she got jumped. Three guys, all wearing those maroon jackets with the snake symbol on the back. The Serpents.” Umemiya narrowed his eyes. “Did you recognize any of them?” Sakura shook his head. “No, they ran before we could catch names. But we got two of them good. They won’t forget our faces.” Umemiya’s voice dropped. “And Kaji?” Sakura looked at Kaji, then back at Umemiya. “He wasn’t there.” Umemiya turned to Kaji. “How’s she doing?” Kaji finally looked up, his voice quiet and heavy. “Still in a coma. The doctors said there’s no way to tell when she’ll wake up… if she wakes up.” He paused. “She’s covered in bruises. She’s not the same.” Everyone was silent for a moment. Umemiya took a deep breath, trying to keep calm. “The Serpents knew who she was. They didn’t just pick a random girl. They knew she was close to you."

Kaji’s jaw clenched. “They did it to get to me.” “They wanted to rattle us,” Umemiya said. “They wanted to send a message.” Kaji looked up, his eyes no longer full of guilt—but burning with something else. “Then let’s send one back.” Umemiya nodded slowly. “If we’re going to hit back, we do it right. No mistakes. No warnings.” Sakura stepped forward. “You already know I’m with you.” “So am I,” Hayato said, stepping up beside him. Kaji stood up, his voice low but clear. “They hurt her because of me. They wanted me to feel powerless.” He looked around at all of them. “I won’t let them get away with it.” The rooftop fell silent again—but it wasn’t the quiet of hesitation.

Furin didn’t wait. They stormed the Serpents' warehouse with fire in their eyes and vengeance in their veins. The moment they kicked open the doors, the Serpents turned their heads, surprised—but not afraid. Not yet. The large space was dimly lit, packed with crates, broken furniture, and graffiti-covered walls. It reeked of smoke and arrogance. “Look what we got here,” a voice rang out from the back of the room. Iyano—the same man Sakura had knocked out days ago—stepped forward with a cocky grin on his face. He wiped his nose and chuckled darkly. “Didn’t think you'd have the guts to show up.” He spread his arms like he was welcoming guests to a party. “Welcome to our turf—The Serpents,” he smirked. “Iyano, leader, in case anyone forgot.” His eyes locked onto Kaji. “Well, well… look who it is. Kaji himself,” Iyano said with a wicked grin. “How’s your little girlfriend doing?” He let out a mocking laugh. “She made a lot of noise that night. Thought someone would’ve trained her better.” Kaji’s entire body tensed. His jaw clenched. His fists curled. His teeth gritted so hard it hurt. “Don’t—” Hiragi stepped in, placing a hand on Kaji’s chest before he could move. Umemiya stepped forward, his voice like thunder. “What you did to her was disgusting. You think you’re tough? That hurting a girl makes you strong?” Iyano raised an eyebrow, clearly amused.

“What are you gonna do? Lecture me?” He leaned forward, his smile twisted. “You should be thanking me for breaking her in. Bet Kaji didn’t even get the chance.” Kaji lunged. “Watch your mouth, you sick bastard—!” But again, Hiragi held him back, this time harder. “Not yet,” he growled under his breath. “We do this right.” Kaji’s eyes burned with fury. His breathing was sharp and fast, his hands shaking with rage. But he held it down—for now. Umemiya’s voice cut through the heat. “You wanted us to come. Congratulations—you got our attention.” His eyes scanned the Serpents. “You laid hands on someone we protect. Now we’re here to collect the price.” “Price?” Iyano scoffed, letting out a laugh thick with venom. “That’s funny.” He looked around at the Furin boys with a sick grin stretched across his face. “Your price is already in the hospital.” The words cut deep. Mocking. Cruel. He laughed again—louder this time, like it was all one big joke to him. But that laugh didn’t last long. Because in the blink of an eye, Kaji moved. Faster than anyone expected. Before Iyano could finish that laugh, Kaji was already in front of him—and with one explosive punch, he slammed Iyano’s face straight into the concrete floor. The impact echoed through the warehouse like a gunshot. CRACK.

Blood sprayed. Bones shifted. Iyano’s body collapsed, stunned and twitching on the ground. Everyone froze. Kaji stood over him, chest rising and falling in sharp, furious breaths. His knuckles were red, his face tight with rage, but his voice—when it finally came—was low, cold, and terrifyingly steady. “You talk about her again, and I swear I won’t stop at just your face.” Iyano groaned, struggling to lift his head, but Kaji grabbed him by the collar and lifted him halfway off the ground. “She’s lying in that hospital bed because of you. You think this is over?” He slammed him back down again—hard. “It’s just starting.” Behind him, Furin spread out. Sakura, Umemiya, Hiragi, and the rest stepped forward, fists tightening, eyes set on the rest of the Serpents.

The streets were quiet, but Kaji’s mind was still loud. Bruised knuckles. Blood crusted on his shirt. The adrenaline hadn’t fully left his system yet. Beside him, Umemiya cracked his neck. Hiragi wiped the side of his lip with the back of his sleeve. No one said much. Not after a fight like that. They walked in silence—Kaji, Umemiya, Hiragi, Sakura, Hayato… the rest of Furin trailing behind like a broken shadow. The school gates were just ahead when Kaji’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He didn’t think much of it at first. Just another call. Another noise. But the second he answered and that unfamiliar voice spoke, something in him shifted. “Hello, is this Kaji Ren?” He slowed down. “…Yeah?” The voice didn’t hesitate. “Y/n Y/l/n just woke up. She’s asking for you.” His heart dropped. He stopped walking. Everyone else did too. No one moved. No one spoke. The call was already over before anyone could ask what happened. Kaji’s legs were moving before his brain could catch up. Sprinting. Fast. Wild. He didn’t even think—he just ran. Umemiya followed. Then Enomoto. Kusumi. Sakura. Nirei. Hayato. Hiragi. All of them. No hesitation. No questions. Just the sound of their footsteps pounding against the pavement, the wind ripping through their jackets, and the rush of something way heavier than just fear.

The hospital doors slammed open. Kaji didn’t wait for directions—he didn’t need them. His feet carried him through the halls like they had a mind of their own. The pounding of his heart echoed in his ears louder than his footsteps, louder than the voices behind the nurses' desks yelling at him to slow down. He didn’t. He shoved the door open without knocking. And there she was. Y/n. Sitting up in bed, hair slightly tangled, the window beside her cracked open just enough for the wind to thread through her strands, making them dance softly around her face. She looked small. Bruised. Faded… like someone had dimmed her light. Kaji froze. “Baby?” his voice cracked, barely even a whisper. She turned. Slowly. Her eyes found him—and even though one of them was still darkened from the bruising, they lit up the second she saw him. “Ren…” she said, voice dry, weak, but real. He rushed forward—no hesitation—closing the space between them in seconds. He dropped to his knees beside her bed, arms wrapping around her so tightly that if he let go, she’d disappear. Her body shook as the first sob slipped from her lips. “I was so scared,” Y/n whimpered, her breath catching on every word. “I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again.” Kaji pulled her in closer, tucking her head into the crook of his neck, one hand tangled in her hair, the other gripping the back of her hospital gown. “Shhh… I know, baby. I know,” he whispered, his tears slipping down without permission. “I’m here now. I’m here.” He stroked her hair with such care like she’d break if he wasn’t gentle enough. “I’m sorry,” he said suddenly, over and over again. “I’m so sorry for what I said to you. I’m sorry I left. I should’ve never—God, I’m so sorry, baby…” His voice cracked again, and this time he didn’t hold it in. He cried with her. Hard. At the doorway, Umemiya stood still—arms crossed, jaw tight. The rest of Furin lingered behind him. Not one of them dared to speak. Not one of them looked away.

A few weeks passed and finally—Y/n was home. The hospital room was replaced by her familiar bedroom walls. The air was softer here, calmer. Her bruises were still there but faded now—like leftover brushstrokes of a fight that didn’t quite win. Her right eye was healing, though still puffy and stubborn like it had an attitude of its own. And yet, here she was—alive, home, safe. Kaji lay on her bed with one hand tucked behind his head, the other gently stroking her hair. Y/n rested against his chest, eyes closed, arms lazily draped over his stomach. The fan above them spun in slow circles, and for the first time in a long time, things didn’t feel like they were crashing. They were still. “Baby?” Kaji said softly, breaking the silence. “Mmm?” Y/n replied, not opening her eyes. “I’m sorry I said those things…” he began, voice unsure, like the words were heavy in his mouth. “You’re not clingy. Or annoying. Or stuck up.” She kept her eyes closed, but the corners of her mouth twitched. “You’re perfect for me,” he continued. “And let’s be real—I’m the clingy one. The annoying one. Probably the most dramatic one, too. I mean, I can’t go ten minutes without texting you. I start dying inside when you leave me on read." Y/n chuckled softly, turning her face more into his chest. “You are dramatic. Like, weirdly dramatic.” “I’m emotionally passionate,” he defended. “You’re a theater kid in denial,” she shot back, laughing. Kaji rolled his eyes but smiled.

“Okay, fine. Whatever. But seriously… I get it. You were always patient with me, and I wasn’t giving the same energy. I was so caught up in handling Furin, the district, and keeping up that whole ‘2nd years grade captain’ image—I forgot I already had someone worth fighting for outside of all that.” Y/n finally looked up at him. “Ren, I never wanted you to stop being you. I know you’ve got responsibilities. I’m not asking for you 24/7—just… maybe a text now and then that says, ‘Hey I didn’t die today, hope you didn’t either.’ You know. The basics.” Kaji laughed. “Alright, noted. Add ‘send daily survival texts’ to the relationship list.” “But seriously,” she said, her voice softening, “It just sucked feeling like I was alone. Like I was in the relationship by myself.” His face fell a little. “I know. I’m sorry I made you feel that way. I am,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “And I know just saying sorry doesn’t make it magically better. So I’m gonna prove it. I’ll make it up to you, even if you throw stuff at me and ban me from your room for a month.” “That is tempting…” she teased. “Oh, come on,” he groaned dramatically. “I poured my soul out like I’m in a sad music video and you’re gonna threaten to ban me?” “Yup. Because you were a major jerk.” “Ugh.” Kaji flopped back on the bed. “I already apologized like five hundred times!” “And it still won’t cover how much of a flaming jerk you were,” she smirked, sitting up and crossing her arms like a queen ready to sentence him. “You’re evil,” he said, eyes narrowed.

The Gojo clan had Satoru—powerful, sharp-tongued, and impossible to ignore. The Nakamura clan had Y/n—graceful, brilliant, and deadly in battle, even called the pride of her family. Everyone expected them to hate each other. And maybe they were supposed to. But the moment Satoru laid eyes on Y/n, something shifted. What started as curiosity became a quiet obsession. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. What he didn’t know was that Y/n had felt the same way since the very beginning—ever since their first meeting, when their eyes locked like fate had already decided something neither of them could control. They were never allowed to fall for each other. It was dangerous. Forbidden. A betrayal of everything their clans stood for. But feelings don’t follow rules. No matter how hard they tried to push it down, the pull between them only grew stronger. It was wrong—they knew that. But somehow, it felt like the only thing in their world that made sense.

It was a quiet night, the kind that felt too peaceful to trust. Y/n sat on the rooftop, knees tucked to her chest, staring up at the stars. The sky stretched endlessly above her, and for a moment, she almost forgot the weight of her clan’s history. Almost. Then she felt it — a shift in the air, the subtle pull of cursed energy she’d grown too familiar with. He was here. “Stargazing, pretty girl?” Gojo’s voice broke through the stillness. Of course, it was him. It was always him. Y/n didn’t even turn her head. “What do you want, Gojo?” There was a pause, then the sound of his footsteps as he settled beside her, not too close but close enough to make her heartbeat falter. “Nothing,” he said simply, eyes focused on the sky. “Just wanted to talk.” She raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. Deep down, she didn’t mind that he came. That was the problem. “Hmm,” she hummed, eyes returning to the stars, pretending she didn’t feel her chest tighten. They sat in silence for a while. Comfortable, but strange. Dangerous, even. “Why do our families have to be enemies?” he asked suddenly, his tone softer than usual. Almost... uncertain. Y/n blinked. That question again. One she’d asked herself countless times.

"You’re asking the wrong person, Gojo…” she muttered. Then, after a deep breath, she spoke the truth she grew up being told like a bedtime story—except this one had no happy ending. “It started in 1764. Your ancestor, Shin Gojo, betrayed his brother—my ancestor, Shinju. They ruled the same village together. It was supposed to be shared peace... until Shin lost control. He destroyed everything. Burned the village, took Shinju hostage, left their people in ruins.” She felt Gojo shift slightly beside her, but he said nothing. “Shinju couldn’t let it go. After everything, he wanted revenge. He had four children—Yui, Kenji, Ren, and Fumiko—and gave them his mother’s last name: Nakamura. That’s where our clan began.” Her fingers curled into her sleeves as she continued, “Shin built something of his own too. A secret group. Trained his children to destroy us—to erase every trace of Nakamura. Since then, every generation has been raised to hate the other.” Y/n paused. Her voice was steady, but her thoughts were a storm. Satoru finally looked at her. “We didn’t choose this, Y/n.” Her heart skipped.

“I mean… yeah, I guess,” Y/n said, her voice calm but edged with frustration. “There’s always some way to fix this mess. A treaty, a truce—something. But you know how our fathers are. Stubborn as hell. Heads harder than stone.” Gojo let out a sigh, rolling his eyes. “Tell me about it.” Y/n glanced at him, brows slightly furrowed. “So then… why even come here if you already knew the answer? Why ask me?” He shrugged casually, eyes flicking up to the sky again. “Just wanted to hear it from your side.” Y/n narrowed her eyes, lips pressing into a line. “You're not my therapist, Satoru,” she muttered, her tone a little sharper than she intended—mostly because his presence always stirred something in her she didn’t know how to deal with. Gojo smirked. “What, I can’t be curious?” he teased, then added with a grin, “Can’t let the pretty girl think I’m interested?” That made her face heat up. She looked away quickly, flustered, trying to hide the blush creeping up her cheeks. “Whatever.” Gojo chuckled and lay back on the roof, arms folded behind his head like he hadn’t just thrown her off balance. Y/n rolled her eyes, but deep down, she couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips.

After a long stretch of silence, Y/n broke it with a soft laugh. “You should probably get going,” she said, eyes still on the stars. “Wouldn’t want your dad losing it because you’re out too late.” Gojo glanced at her, then smiled—not his usual cocky grin, but something softer. More serious. “Y/n… can I ask you something?” She turned slightly, curious. “Hmm?” “I like you,” he said, barely louder than a whisper. “Not just as a friend. I mean… romantically.” His words hung in the air like a spell—fragile and real. Y/n blinked, caught off guard. Then she let out a breathy chuckle, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Satoru… we can’t.” Her voice cracked, and she hated how much it hurt to say. “Our clans would never allow it,” she added, looking down, her fingers gripping the edge of the roof. “Especially not our fathers.” She felt her heart twist painfully. She had waited, hoped—maybe foolishly—that he’d never say it out loud, because then it could just stay in her daydreams. Safe. Untouched. But now it was real. And terrifying.

What if someone saw them together like this? What if rumors started? What if—“We’ve been at war for generations,” she whispered. “And if anyone found out about us… it could get worse. What if it starts another fight? What if your clan and mine go to war because of us?” Satoru stepped closer, his voice firm. “I don’t care about them. Not my father, not your clan. I care about you. And I know you feel the same.” Y/n shook her head, tears welling in her eyes before she could stop them. “Even if I do… it doesn’t matter.” She wiped at her face quickly, trying to keep herself from breaking. “We’re not just two people, Satoru. We’re Gojo and Nakamura. We were raised to be enemies—not lovers.” He reached for her, eyes full of something desperate. “Y/n…” But she stepped back. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, voice cracking. “I want to… but I can’t.” Before he could stop her, Y/n turned and slipped back through the window into her room, leaving Gojo alone on the rooftop—staring at the stars that no longer felt as bright.

In the days that followed, tension hung heavy over both the Gojo and Nakamura clans. Whispers turned into commands, and soon, a date was set—a battle, forced by tradition and pride, not by choice. Y/n and Satoru were to fight... for their clans’ so-called honor. Neither of them wanted this. But their voices were drowned by the weight of bloodlines and centuries-old hatred. On the day of the confrontation, both clans stood opposite each other in a wide ceremonial field. The sky above was clouded as if the heavens themselves disapproved. Satoru stepped forward first, drawing in a shaky breath. Then, with calm defiance, he raised his voice for all to hear. “I’m not here to fight the person I love,” he said, his words echoing through the silent crowd. “If I win this fight, I don’t want revenge. I don’t want power. I want a treaty—a promise between our clans to end this rivalry and stand as allies. No more fear. No more blood.” Gasps rippled through the Gojo clan. Satoru turned and bowed low, his eyes never leaving the elders. His father’s face twisted in rage. “Satoru! There will be no alliance! Not with that immature, foolish girl! You disgrace this clan!” Y/n’s hands clenched at her sides. She wanted to speak, but her heart was pounding too loud to let the words come out. “I’m not fighting someone I see as immature,” Satoru snapped back. “I love her. And I already cherish her more than anything else in this cursed cycle we’ve been trapped in.” Before he could finish, a sharp smack echoed through the field—his father had struck him across the face. But Satoru didn’t flinch. He stood tall, eyes steady, refusing to back down. On the other side, Y/n stood frozen. Her chest ached. Everything she had bottled up for so long broke loose in that moment. As the head of the Nakamura clan, she was expected to remain standing. Strong. Cold. Unshaken. But instead, she dropped to her knees. “Y/n!” her mother cried, rushing forward. “Get up! You’re the leader of this clan!” “Don’t shame us like this!” her father shouted. But Y/n stayed down, her forehead touching the ground in deep apology. “I’m sorry,” she said softly, voice trembling. “I never meant to disgrace you… but I won’t deny my feelings for him. I’ll take whatever punishment you decide. I’ll carry the weight of it. But don’t blame him for loving me.” Tears silently streamed down her cheeks as the two clans stared—not in anger, but in stunned silence.

For a long moment, no one moved. The wind picked up gently, tugging at the ceremonial flags and robes of both clans. The weight of Y/n’s voice — of her surrender — hung heavy in the silence. Satoru stared at her, fists clenched at his sides. He had never seen her like this: vulnerable, breaking, yet stronger than ever. She was willing to fall on her knees for him, and yet the world only saw rebellion. His father scoffed bitterly. “So this is what you both choose? To disgrace everything we’ve built for centuries? For what — teenage fantasy?” “We’re not children,” Satoru replied sharply, stepping forward again. “We’re choosing something that neither of you dared to—peace.” Y/n slowly lifted her head. Her eyes met his, shining with both fear and love. Her father finally stepped toward her, rage barely restrained. “Get up. You are Nakamura blood. You do not bow to a Gojo.” Y/n stood slowly, shakily. “Then maybe it’s time that blood stopped drowning us,” she said quietly. Murmurs rippled through both clans. A few younger members looked at one another, unsure, uncertain—but not angry.

Satoru’s father turned to the elders. “We cannot allow this. If we let our heirs dishonor tradition, everything we’ve stood for collapses.” An elder from the Nakamura clan raised a hand. “Or maybe… it’s time to stop standing on the bones of the past and start building something new.” That silenced everyone. Y/n’s mother looked between her daughter and the elder, then finally to Satoru. Her voice was soft but steady. “Do you truly love her, Gojo?” Satoru looked at Y/n, with no hesitation in his voice. “With everything I have.” Her mother sighed as if releasing years of tension. “Then I believe it is not weakness that we are seeing today… but strength.” Y/n turned quickly, eyes wide. “Mother—?” “I was once in love with someone from the Gojo clan,” her mother admitted. “But I was too afraid to choose him. I lost him to tradition.” Gasps echoed across both sides. The tension, once sharp and suffocating, began to shift. It was still there—but it was no longer in control. Then, slowly, one of the Nakamura elders stepped forward, planting a small banner between the two clans. A white flag. “I say we honor their request,” he said. “Let this battle be our last.” The silence shattered into murmurs and hushed disbelief—but no one opposed. Satoru let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. He turned to Y/n, eyes glassy. She stepped forward, lips trembling but smiling through the tears. “We did it,” she whispered. “Not yet,” he said, holding out his hand. “But this is where it begins.” She took it without hesitation.

Later that night, Y/n lay still on her bed, barely blinking, just… thinking. The soft rustling of the curtains barely cut through the silence, but it wasn’t quiet in her mind. Her thoughts were loud—like thunder rolling in slow motion. Her fingers clenched the edge of her blanket. We did it. We did it. The treaty. The alliance. The future we forced into existence. And yet, her chest still felt tight. Across the room, Satoru paced once, then stopped. He didn’t speak, just stared at her for a moment before walking over. He didn’t ask if he could lay down—he didn’t have to. They’d crossed that line already. He climbed onto the bed slowly, lying beside her at first. Then he moved closer, head resting on her chest. Her heartbeat was fast, she could feel it thudding against his ear. Her fingers floated to his hair, tangling there like it was the only thing keeping her grounded. “You’re thinking too much,” he muttered, eyes closed, voice deep and low against her ribs. She exhaled shakily, not answering right away. His warmth against her didn’t calm her—it made her more aware of everything. The decisions. The risk. Him. “I can’t help it,” she whispered eventually. Her throat tightened. “What if… what if we made the wrong choice?” Satoru didn’t move.

“I mean,” she continued, her voice cracking slightly, “what if you betray me?” The words hit the air like they didn’t belong there. She almost wanted to take them back. He slowly lifted his head. His eyes weren’t annoyed—they weren’t even hurt. Just… quiet. Like something in him paused. “Betray you?” he echoed softly. Y/n couldn’t meet his eyes. Her fingers froze in his hair. “I’m not saying you would,” she said quickly. “It’s just—what if? What if I chose wrong? Everyone’s looking at us like we’re crazy. Our fathers didn’t even agree to this at first. They’re only going along with it because they had no choice.” She sat up slightly, her voice turning hoarse. “What if they were right?” There was a long pause. Her heart pounded. She didn’t know if he’d laugh, argue, or go quiet. But he didn’t do any of that. “I’d never hurt you,” Satoru said finally, steady and clear, like he’d already made that vow a thousand times in his head. “I didn’t choose this alliance for our clans. I chose this for you. For us.” Y/n looked at him then. His expression wasn’t perfect—there was a flicker of worry, something desperate underneath all the confidence he usually wore like a mask. He leaned closer. “I love you, Y/n. I don’t say that because it sounds nice. I say it because if anything tried to come between us—even our families—I’d burn it all down. That’s how far I’d go." Her throat tightened. Something about the way he said it—quiet, not showy—made her want to believe him.

“I hate how much I believe you,” she murmured with a soft, nervous laugh. “It makes everything scarier.” Satoru’s smirk twitched at the corner of his lips. “You’re scared of me now?” “I’m scared of everything,” she admitted. “But you… especially you.” He hovered closer, lips brushing the air between them. “Then let me be the one thing you’re not afraid to hold onto.” He waited—just barely a breath away. She didn’t move. Her hands found his jaw, trembling slightly. Then she leaned in. The kiss was far from perfect. It was messy. Too fast. A little desperate. His lips crashed into hers like he’d been holding it back too long, and she let it happen. Her fingers slid up into his hair again, holding him close, anchoring herself. Her heart was pounding. Her breath hitched. And still, her mind wouldn't stop.

Y/n arched her back, her fingers digging into Satoru's shoulders as he deepened the kiss. Saliva slicked their lips, a wet, desperate sound filling the small room. He shifted, his weight pressing her further into the soft mattress. Her thighs parted willingly, inviting him closer. "Satoru," she moaned against his mouth, the sound thick with longing. He pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, his own a swirling vortex of blue. "Y/n," he whispered, his voice rough. "Are you sure?" A shiver ran down her spine, a mixture of anticipation and nerves. "More than anything," she breathed. He didn't hesitate. With a swift movement, he lifts up her black tank top over her head, the cool air kissing her skin. Her breasts, full and heavy, strained against the lace of her bra. Satoru's breath hitched as he reached out, his fingers tracing the curve of her breast. "You're beautiful," he murmured, his eyes dark with desire. She closed her eyes, reveling in the sensation of his touch. "So are you," she whispered back, her hand reaching down to unbuckle his belt. The metal clinked softly as it came undone, followed by the rasp of his zipper. He kicked off his pants, revealing his thick, hard cock straining against his boxers.

Y/n's breath caught in her throat. "God, you're so hard," she breathed, her fingers tracing the outline of his bulge. He groaned, his hips bucking against her hand. "Just wait," he growled. "You haven't felt anything yet." With a final tug, he freed himself from his boxers. His cock sprang free, thick and heavy, glistening with pre-cum. Y/n's eyes widened, her mouth going dry. "Satoru," she whispered, her voice barely audible. He leaned down, his lips finding hers again. He kissed her deeply, his tongue plunging into her mouth as he reached down to unclip her bra. Her breasts spilled free, the nipples hard and erect. He suckled on one, his mouth hot and wet, while his fingers teased the other. Y/n moaned, her hips lifting off the bed. "More," she gasped, her body aching for release. He obliged, his mouth moving lower, tracing a path down her stomach. He paused at the waistband of her shorts, his eyes meeting hers. "Can I?" he asked, his voice husky. She nodded, her eyes pleading. "Please." He slid the shorts down her legs, revealing her lace panties. He dipped his head, his tongue tracing the edge of the fabric. Y/n gasped, her fingers clenching in his hair. "Satoru, please," she begged, her voice trembling. "I need you." He didn't make her wait any longer.

With a swift movement, he pulled down her panties, revealing her wet, swollen pussy. He lowered his head, his tongue finding her clit. Y/n screamed, her body arching off the bed. "Oh, God, Satoru," she cried, her voice filled with pleasure. "Don't stop." He didn't. He continued to lick and suck, his tongue driving her wild. She came quickly, her body convulsing with pleasure. He lapped up her juices, his eyes never leaving hers. When she finally calmed down, he looked at her, his eyes filled with love and desire. "Ready?" he asked, his voice soft. She nodded, her body trembling with anticipation. He positioned himself between her legs, his cock throbbing against her entrance. He pushed slowly, stretching her open. "Oh, God," she moaned, her nails digging into his back. "That feels so good." He continued to push, filling her. She gasped, her body adjusting to his size. He paused, letting her get used to him. "Tight," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "So tight." He began to move, his hips thrusting slowly at first, then with increasing speed and intensity. She met his thrusts, her body moving in perfect rhythm with his. They fucked like animals, their bodies slick with sweat, their moans and cries filling the room. She came again and again, each orgasm more intense than the last. He held on, driving deeper and deeper, until he finally exploded inside her, his body shaking with release. They collapsed against each other, gasping for breath, their bodies intertwined. After a moment, he rolled off her, pulling her close. "Wow," she breathed, her voice shaky. "That was..." "Incredible," he finished, his lips finding hers again. "The best sex of my life."

When he did come home, he moved through the apartment like a stranger—brief words, empty excuses, no warmth. The shift was slow, like a cold draft slipping in under the door—subtle, but inescapable. It began with a tightening in her throat every time the lock clicked late at night, then settled into her chest, her limbs, until everything felt heavier when he walked past her without so much as a glance. What hurt most wasn’t the silence. It wasn’t even the distance. It was not knowing. No argument. No unraveling moment. Just a quiet change in the way he looked at her—until he didn’t look at all. She searched for answers, combed through memories for something that might explain it. But there was nothing. Just the ache of watching the man she loved became someone she no longer recognized. Still, she tried. She made the reservations, cooked his favorite meals, and scrubbed the house spotless so he wouldn’t have to lift a finger. She even packed his bento for practice, just the way he liked. But not once did he meet her halfway. Not once did he reach back with even a fraction of the love she poured out for him.

The silence had become suffocating. Y/n couldn’t take it anymore. So she spent the day gathering her thoughts, choosing her words with care—gentle ones, not meant to provoke, but to open a conversation. She wasn’t looking for a fight. She just wanted clarity. To be seen. To be heard. To tell him how much the distance had been hurting her. She made up her mind: tonight, when Suna got home, she’d speak to him. As the hour approached, she waited quietly on the couch, her nerves on edge. Her heart raced. Hands trembling in her lap. It wasn’t fear of him—it was fear of what he might say. Of what he might not. Then came the sound of keys clinking in the lock. He was home. Suna stumbled through the door, clearly exhausted, barely glancing around. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, dropping his bag carelessly onto the floor. Without a word, he made his way to the kitchen, heading straight for the fridge. “Welcome home, Rin,” Y/n called softly, her voice breaking the quiet. Suna flinched, startled, one hand flying to his chest as he turned to look at her. “Can we talk?” she asked, rising slowly to her feet. He didn’t answer right away—just let out a quiet hum and turned his attention back to the fridge. “If you’re looking for dinner, it’s on the stove,” she added gently. He didn’t like her calmness—it was too deliberate, too controlled. And she knew that. “I wanted to talk about the way you’ve been lately,” she continued. “We barely see each other anymore. But… let’s start with something simple—are you okay? Are you doing well?” Her voice was full of concern, genuine and soft, but edged with something deeper—hurt.

“I’m okay,” he said dryly, almost too casually. “Just been busy.” He moved toward the stove, flicking on the burner without so much as a glance in her direction. “Is that so…” Y/n murmured, her voice thin with restraint. She hesitated before continuing, “If you’ve been that busy, why didn’t you tell me? Just a text would’ve been enough.” Suna let out a sharp breath, finally turning to face her. “Damn, Y/n. Do you really need to know every little thing I do?” For a moment, she was stunned—silent beneath the weight of his words. But in that pause, she saw him clearly: the weariness etched into his features, the dullness in his eyes, the dark circles under them. This wasn’t the Suna she fell in love with. “Of course not, Rin,” she replied quickly, her voice trembling with vulnerability. “Then back off,” he snapped, his tone laced with a venom that cut deeper than he realized. Y/n felt her throat tighten, but she held her ground. “Rin, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re falling apart. I can’t keep pretending everything’s okay. I’m confused. I’m hurt. I’m trying to understand, but you’re shutting me out, and I don’t know how to fix something when I don’t even know what’s broken. I’m not asking for much, I—” She froze. Whatever strength she had crumbled the moment his next words hit. “But you are asking too much,” he interrupted coldly. “You don’t even make sense anymore. You’re being clingy and pathetic. Maybe it’s time you learned how to let go and move on. What, do I have to babysit you just so you’ll feel seen?” Each word landed like a blow—sharp, final, and merciless.

“Really?” Y/n snapped, unable to hold back any longer. The weight of her frustration pressed heavily on her chest. “You know what, Rin? I’m done babying you every damn day. Do you have any idea how exhausting it is to deal with a grown-ass man who can’t even wash his own clothes or clean his damn dishes? Hell, you can’t even pick up after yourself! It’s humiliating, Rintarou. Absolutely embarrassing. She was practically shouting now, her voice echoing off the walls. “Do you even see the time and effort I put into this apartment every single day? Do you? Because I’ve never felt so alone in my life—and I live with someone who’s supposed to love me!” The neglect, the mess, the constant disappointment—it was too much. She wasn’t his mother. She didn’t sign up to raise a man. Then his voice cut through the air, sharp and cruel. “Maybe it’s because I don’t want to come home to some nagging bitch who acts like she does everything. I pay the bills, I make sure there’s food on the table so your fat ass can eat!” The words hit her like a slap. Tears welled up in her eyes and spilled over, unstoppable. “You’re so—God, I don’t even know where to begin,” Y/n said, voice trembling. “All I’ve ever done is be patient with you. I’ve been lonely enough to feel like I don’t even exist… and you were supposed to be the one who reminded me that I matter.” But Rintarou didn’t say a word. Didn’t even flinch. And that silence hurt more than anything he could’ve said.

“Stop being patient—it’s not getting you anywhere, is it?” Rintarou shouted, his voice thick with frustration. “You can’t even hold down a damn job. Always lounging around the house, no food ready when I get home. And I’m stuck eating leftovers while your big ass is stuffing your face with everything else. Maybe if you lost some weight, we’d actually have food left over. Ever think of that, huh?” His words came in harsh waves, each one cutting deeper than the last. He was breathing heavily, spent from the outburst, while Y/n stood frozen, unable to speak. Her lips parted, but no sound came out. She quickly wiped at her tears, as if that could hide the pain unraveling inside her. “I’m leaving,” he muttered, storming over to the door. He grabbed his keys off the hook, and the front door slammed behind him with finality. The moment the door closed, Y/n’s knees gave out. She crumpled to the floor, her sobs breaking through the silence like shattered glass.

She clutched her chest, trying to breathe through the ache, but it was no use. She couldn’t understand how easily—how casually—he had thrown her greatest insecurity in her face. Her weight had always been a sore spot, something she’d silently battled for years. But when she met Rintarou, he made her feel like she was enough. He made her believe she didn’t have to look like the women on magazine covers or social media. Now she realized it had all been a lie. He didn’t accept her. He resented her. Every piece of her that she had learned to embrace through him—he had only been tolerating. Y/n slowly picked herself up from the floor, her limbs heavy with grief. She made her way to the shared bedroom in silence. Despite everything—despite the argument and the pain still fresh in her chest—she couldn’t bring herself to turn off the hallway light. A small part of her still hoped he would come back. She shut off the rest of the lights in the apartment, one by one, then slipped into bed. That night, she cried herself to sleep. Morning came too soon. At 5 a.m.—the usual time she woke to make breakfast for Rintarou—Y/n stirred from restless sleep. As she sat up, she blinked in surprise. Rintarou was beside her.

Sometime during the night, he had returned. He lay on his side, eyes closed, his face turned toward hers. But what caught her attention was the redness around his eyes, the slight puffiness that betrayed silent tears. He had cried, too. Y/n walked out of the bedroom without a word, her face blank, her heart heavy. She made her way into the kitchen, the cold tile beneath her feet grounding her more than the silence ever could. Without thinking, she started cooking—omelets sizzling in the pan, miso soup warming on the stove, and freshly steamed rice filling the room with a soft, comforting aroma. It was a routine she knew well. Something familiar. Something that kept her hands busy while her mind tried to forget. As she was finishing up, the sound of footsteps stirred behind her. Rintarou had woken up. He stumbled into the kitchen, eyes still groggy from sleep, but as soon as he saw her, something shifted in him. Guilt. It hit hard and fast, settling deep in his chest. He stood there for a moment, just watching her.

Watching the way she moved, quiet and distant. And then the words from the night before echoed back in his head—the yelling, the insults, the way he threw her insecurities in her face like they were nothing. He remembered it all. "Good morning," she said with a forced smile, setting the last plate down on the table. Rintarou gave a small nod in response. "Are you going to eat?" he asked. She shook her head lightly. "Ah, no. I'm not hungry. I need to make your bento for practice, so don't worry." Turning away, she began preparing his lunch. As she worked quietly in the kitchen, Rintarou's voice broke the silence. "Y/n," he said. She hummed in acknowledgment, her attention still on the food. "I'm sorry for what I said yesterday," he continued. "Let me make it up to you. I'll take you out tonight—my treat. I’ll be home before five." He paused, waiting, uncertain how she'd respond.

"No need to apologize, Rin. It’s fine—I’m okay, really," she said with a gentle smile. "And sure, do you know where you're taking me?" As she added the final ingredient to his lunch, Rintarou watched her intently. He noticed how carefully she arranged the food in the bento, making sure nothing got squished or messy. "Uh... not exactly," he admitted, scratching the back of his neck. "But I’ll figure it out before I get back." Y/n nodded. "Alright, here you go." She handed him the bento. "I made sure to include all your veggies. And don’t worry, there’s fruit and meat too—gotta keep those hygiene points up!" she said, giving him a playful thumbs-up. Rintarou chuckled quietly. "Anyway, hope you have a good practice," she added, turning back to the sink. "I’m going to catch a little more sleep. I’ve got an interview at ten." Later that evening, Y/n and Rintarou headed out for their date. Rintarou was anxious, preparing himself to apologize once again. Despite everything, he had marriage on his mind. He figured—why not propose to her afterward? Oh, how wrong he was.

"Hello, I have a reservation for 6:30 under the name Suna," Rintarou said to the hostess. "Suna Rintarou? Oh my!" she gasped, her eyes widening as she glanced at Y/n. "Right this way!" she added quickly, leading the couple to their table. Once seated, Y/n settled into her chair quietly, not saying a word. Rintarou tried to break the silence. "So, how was the interview?" he asked. "It went great. I got the job. I start in two weeks," she replied with a smile, her attention drifting as a small commotion caught her ear. A child nearby had started crying. Y/n watched as the flustered new mother panicked, unsure of how to calm the baby, while her husband scrambled helplessly beside her. "May I help?" Y/n offered gently. The mother let out a relieved sigh and gave a grateful nod. Y/n stood, gently picked up the baby, and began softly patting its back. Within moments, the baby's cries quieted to a calm whimper. "Thank you so much, ma'am," the mother said, her voice thick with emotion as Y/n carefully handed the now-peaceful baby back. "No worries at all," Y/n replied with a gentle smile, returning to her seat. Rintarou watched her in quiet awe. His heart swelled at the sight—how effortlessly she soothed the child, how kind and calm she remained. It was in that moment, watching her with such warmth and grace, that he felt it again—stronger than ever. He really, truly wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.

After dinner, Y/n and Rintarou strolled hand in hand toward a nearby park, the setting sun casting a golden hue over the world around them. The air was quiet, gentle, almost sacred. As they reached a quiet clearing, Rintarou suddenly stopped, turned to face her, and dropped to one knee. Y/n froze, her breath catching in her throat as he opened a small velvet box, the ring glinting in the last rays of sunlight. "Y/n," Rintarou began, his voice trembling, "I know this probably isn’t the perfect moment… but I couldn’t keep this in any longer. I’ve felt so guilty about what I said last night. I can’t take those words back—I wish I could—but they were never meant to hurt you." He looked up at her, eyes raw and honest. "I know I’m not the perfect boyfriend. Hell, I’ve probably been a terrible one. But through it all, you stayed—you waited. You were my home. And without you, I don’t think I can ever feel whole again. So please, Y/n... will you marry me?" Y/n stood in stunned silence, the world suddenly too still. Her hands trembled as she reached for his arms, gently helping him to his feet. She brushed the grass from his knees, tears slipping quietly down her cheeks. "I'm sorry, Rin," she whispered, her voice breaking, "but I can't." His eyes widened, a sharp breath escaping him, but she continued, her voice steady though her heart ached. "It's a beautiful gesture, really. But I can’t say yes—not like this. We have too much to fix, too much we’ve buried instead of facing. Marriage won’t solve that. We owe it to ourselves to grow, separately… before we even think of growing together." She cries.

"But—" he began. "There’s no ‘but’ to this, Rintarou," Y/n interrupted, wiping the tears from her cheeks. "We're not right for each other. The longer we try to force this… the more we keep avoiding the real issues. I'm exhausted, Rin. I really am. I want to marry you—part of me always has—but I need to step back." Her voice trembled, but she didn’t stop. "I can’t keep going through the same fights. I can’t keep hearing you criticize my body like it’s something that needs fixing. You knew that was my insecurity, and yet... you still made it feel like a flaw. Rintarou, we’re not kids anymore. We can’t keep pretending your immaturity doesn’t hurt me." "I'm sorry," he said quickly, desperation in his voice. "I swear I’ll change." Y/n gave a bitter smile, one filled with sadness rather than spite. "You’ve said that so many times, Rin... I think my heart's grown numb to it." She paused, swallowing hard as the weight of her words settled between them. "I’m sorry too. But I can’t carry this anymore. I need peace. I need to choose me for once. It’s time we go our separate ways." Her eyes met his—red, brimming with tears—as his mouth opened slightly, no words coming out. Then, as if the weight finally hit him, he dropped to his knees. "Wait. Y/n... please, don’t leave me," he pleaded, voice cracking. It was the first time he’d ever begged—for anything. The first time he ever begged for her.

Y/n shook her head gently, a bittersweet smile tugging at her lips. She took one last look at him before turning to walk away. "Rin… thank you," she said softly over her shoulder. "Thank you for showing me what love can feel like and for helping me realize that I’m strong enough to stand on my own. But I can’t settle for someone I love—no matter how deeply—if they refuse to truly change. Words without action don’t build a future." She paused, her voice trembling with a mix of love and sorrow. "Marriage… it was a dream. But dreams don’t survive without resolution. And we never found one—not really. We both know that." She turned slightly, enough for her eyes to meet his one last time. "So don’t beg, Rintarou. Don’t lose someone just to realize their worth. Show people differently. Grow differently. I’ll always carry love for you in my heart. I’ll always cherish what we had." A tear slipped down her cheek, "I wish you the best—with volleyball with your future. And I hope one day, you finally see the value in the effort you put in. Please, don’t sulk. Don’t let this moment be your ending. Push forward. Become better—not for me, but for yourself. You already have it in you." She smiled faintly, her voice barely a whisper now. "When you find someone new, love her with everything you couldn’t give me. Marry her. Don’t let her walk away like I am now. Don’t think of me then—because holding on will only bring you back to this place. This moment." Her final words hung in the air like a farewell lullaby.

But over time, that curiosity soured into visible annoyance. Y/n couldn’t figure out why—she hadn’t done anything, at least nothing she knew of, to earn the coach’s disapproval. She mentioned it to Hajime, but he brushed it off. “Just ignore it, babe. I’m sure he’ll come around.” Hajime couldn’t have been more wrong. Y/n began showing up to practices and matches, even the smaller scrimmages, only to be met with coldness—as if her presence was nothing but a burden. Y/n did everything she could to help Coach Irihata understand—she wasn’t trying to overstep. She was just Iwaizumi’s girlfriend, not his wife (at least, not yet). But despite her efforts, the coach continued to speak poorly of her behind her back. Thankfully, not everyone on the coaching staff felt the same. Iwaizumi’s other coach, Sadayuki Mizoguchi, had a completely different attitude. He was supportive from the start, even offering Iwaizumi congratulations when he first heard about their relationship. Coach Mizoguchi always greeted Y/n with a warm “hello” and “goodbye,” making her feel like she truly belonged. He treated her with kindness, almost like one of the team—though perhaps just a little more special.

One particular evening, Iwaizumi had a late practice as the team prepared for the upcoming Spring Nationals. Y/n chose to stay behind, quietly supporting him from the sidelines—cheering him on during scrimmages and offering small encouragements whenever he did well. Mid-practice, Coach Irihata called Iwaizumi over. “Iwaizumi, would you mind asking your girlfriend to head home?” the coach said. At first, Iwaizumi assumed it was out of concern—it was getting late, and maybe the coach didn’t want Y/n’s parents to worry. “Uh... sure,” he replied, a little confused. But then the coach added bluntly, “She’s a distraction. To all of us. Including you.” Iwaizumi froze, caught off guard by the harshness of it. Still, he didn’t question it—just nodded and turned back toward Y/n. Walking up to her, he picked up her bag and said, “Do you think you could head home?” Sweat trickled down his face as he spoke, unsure of how to soften the blow. Y/n simply smiled and reached out, gently lifting her sleeve to wipe the sweat from his forehead. “How come? Are you done with practice already?” Y/n asked, lowering her hand after gently wiping the sweat from his forehead. Iwaizumi shook his head. “No… Coach Irihata just wants you to head home. He said you’re a distraction.” His words came out flat, and he avoided meeting her eyes. Y/n froze, the weight of his words hitting her like a wave. “Haji…” she whispered, a chill running through her. “We always walk home together. You know he doesn’t like me…” Her voice trembled slightly, still reeling from the sting of what he’d just said.

“Not this again,” Hajime muttered, irritation lacing his voice. “He does like you—he’s just stressed. So don’t start whining right now. Just go home. I’ll call you when we’re done.” He let out a tired groan, clearly annoyed. “You know he doesn’t like me, Haji,” Y/n said, her voice quiet but firm. “Can you at least ask if I can stay until practice ends?” She wasn’t trying to be difficult. Going home wasn’t the issue—she just didn’t want to deal with her older sister, Hana, who would tear into her for coming home alone so late. But if Hajime walked her back, Hana would go easy on her. “Damn it, Y/n!” Hajime suddenly snapped. “Just go fucking home. I can’t go against my coach, alright? So stop being selfish and clingy. Just go. It’s not that hard!” The words hit her like a slap. Y/n stood frozen, stunned by the outburst. From the sidelines, Coach Irihata watched with thinly veiled amusement, a smirk tugging at his lips as he took in the scene like it was entertainment.

The slap echoed through the gym like a gunshot. Y/n’s hand trembled at her side, her face streaked with tears. “I’m going home,” she whispered, her voice barely holding together. She ripped her bag from Hajime’s hands, her fingers shaking, and turned her back on him. Hajime didn’t move. He just stood there, silent—until the shame twisted into anger. “Yeah? Walk away then!” he shouted, voice cracking with frustration. “Be a bitch, Y/n! That’s all you ever fucking do!” His words sliced through the air, heavy and brutal. Gasps rippled across the gym. No one dared to speak. No one moved. Y/n didn’t look back. She kept walking, legs weak beneath her, vision blurred from the tears still falling.

The next morning, Y/n couldn’t bring herself to go to school. The weight of everything that had happened the night before still clung to her, raw and overwhelming. She couldn’t face the stares, the whispers—or worse, Hajime. Meanwhile, Iwaizumi was drowning in guilt. The words he had hurled at her echoed in his mind relentlessly. He’d planned to apologize, to try and fix what he’d broken. But when he noticed her absence at school, the reality of the damage hit even harder. By the time the final bell rang, he was already on his way to her house, clutching a small bouquet of her favorite flowers, a bag of her go-to candy, and a soft stuffed bear with a hand-written note tied around its neck. It wasn’t extravagant—but it was honest. It was all the care he could carry in his arms. When he rang the doorbell, the door creaked open a moment later. Y/n stood there, her expression unreadable. "Oh… hi, Haji,” she said softly, stepping aside to let him in. He hesitated before walking in, shifting the gifts awkwardly in his hands. “Hajime, what are you doing here?” she asked, her gaze falling to the bear and flowers. “I… I came to apologize, baby,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry for how I talked to you yesterday. I was upset, and I acted like an asshole. A big one.” He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes avoiding hers. Y/n stepped closer, brushing a small bit of lint off his sleeve with a faint smile. “Oh, Haji,” she said gently. “I wasn’t mad because you asked me to go home… I was hurt because you didn’t stand up for me. When your coach treated me like I didn’t belong—you said nothing.” She paused, eyes meeting his. “I know he’s your coach. I get it. But just because he has authority doesn’t mean he’s always right. You have the right to speak up, Hajime. Especially when it comes to the people you care about.” she states.

As she swiped through videos, one in particular caught her attention—a girl asking her boyfriend to take off her bra, and the way he smoothly unhooked it made her giggle. An idea sparked. Why not try it on Katsuki? With a mischievous smile, Y/n sat up, taking off her shirt, only wearing her bra. She headed downstairs, calling out, "Katsuki?" He didn’t look up. “Hmm?” he hummed distractedly, still buried in paperwork. “I wanna see how fast you can take off my bra,” Y/n said, tilting her head with a teasing smile. Katsuki finally looked up, brows furrowed in confusion. “Why?” “Uh… I saw this trend on TikTok,” she explained, rubbing the back of her neck awkwardly. “A girl asked her boyfriend to take off her bra to see how fast he could do it…” She trailed off, embarrassed. Katsuki stared at her for a moment, stress etched all over his face. “No,” he said flatly, turning back to his paperwork. “Katsukiiiiii!” Y/n whined, grabbing his shoulders and giving them a playful shake. “ ’m not doing ya dumb TikTok trends,” he grumbled. “You don’t love me,” she pouted dramatically. “Never said that, woman,” he muttered, glancing back at her. “Please, Katsu—just this once? I swear I’ll stop after!” He sighed sharply. “No.” “But—” Without another word, Katsuki stood up in front of her, his arms went behind and with one swift motion, unhooked the bra like a pro. It slipped off and fell to the floor, leaving Y/n stunned—and topless. “Katsuki!” she shrieked, covering her chest. “What now?” he asked, deadpan. “That was too fast!” she said, eyes wide.

“What? Ya told me to do it. So why’re ya complaining, woman?” Katsuki asked, his tone flat and unbothered. Y/n, still in shock, stared at him. “How did you unhook it so fast?!” Katsuki glanced at her briefly before plopping back down in his chair and returning to his reports, completely ignoring her flustered reaction. “Katsuki!” she called out again, pouting. “Seriously, how did you do it that fast? Be honest—have you done this before? With other girls?” She crossed her arms, sulking now, suspicion creeping into her voice. Katsuki froze and whipped his head around. “Huh?! Are ya serious right now?” Irritation written all over his face. “Ya already know ya were my first, so don’t start spouting shit like that, woman.” Y/n stayed quiet, still pouting as she looked away, clearly not over the shock of his move. "My boyfriend of four years is out here having sexual encounters with other women..." Y/n muttered dramatically before flopping onto the couch in defeat. Katsuki let out a deep sigh, setting his reports aside and walking into the living room. He crouched in front of her, bringing his face close to hers. “Princess, stop,” he said softly.

“Ya already know I’m yers. So why the hell are ya sayin’ stupid shit like that?” His voice was gentle, even if he wasn’t the best with words. “I love ya. Only ya.” Y/n turned her head away, still pouting. “No, you don’t.” Katsuki groaned quietly before gently turning her face back toward him and placing a soft kiss on her lips. “I love every part of ya,” he said, voice low and sincere. “The way ya body fits perfectly against mine… the way ya hand slips right into mine like it was made for it. I don’t want anyone else. Just ya.” He kissed her again, firmer this time, and Y/n squirmed slightly, trying to hide the blush blooming across her cheeks. "Stop making excuses," Y/n muttered, pulling away from the kiss. Katsuki smirked. “Then maybe I should find someone new, huh?” Y/n immediately sat up, eyes narrowed. “No, you are not.” He laughed at her reaction. “What? Didn’t ya just say I don’t love ya?” “Katsuki!” she huffed, smacking his shoulder. He just kept laughing. “Go put ya bra back on before I lose the last bit of restraint I’ve got,” he growled, eyes flicking down to her bare chest. “Then do it—if you love me,” she challenged, arms crossed. Before she could react, a firm smack landed on her butt, making her yelp. “Ow! Katsuki, that hurt,” she winced, rubbing the spot. “Ya say that, but ya like it more when we’re in bed, don’t ya?” he shot back with a raised brow. “Ugh, you’re such a pain,” she grumbled, turning to head upstairs. “Hurry up, I’ll be up there in a sec,” he called after her, pointing toward the stairs. “You’re disgusting,” she said, tossing him a fake-disgusted look as she paused in front of him. Katsuki leaned in, grinning.

“Ya won’t be sayin’ that when my cock is pounding the fuck out of ya, takin’ my time devouring every inch.” Y/n gave him an exaggerated look of horror. “I feel violated.” “Shut up and get upstairs,” he laughed, swatting her butt again as she squealed and ran off giggling. “Damn woman’s a whole headache,” he muttered fondly, picking up her bra from the floor. With a chuckle, he switched off the lights and followed her upstairs into their shared bedroom.