#nijiro

Sakurazaka University Hospital had grown quiet, the rush of the day giving way to the low hum of machines and the occasional echo of footsteps down sterile hallways. Most doctors had already gone home. The lights in their offices had flicked off one by one, leaving only slivers of fluorescent glow through the narrow windows of doors.

But not his.

Inside, Dr. Chishiya sat hunched over his desk, sleeves pushed back, pen gliding across paperwork with unhurried precision. He should have gone home hours ago, but no doctor’s work was ever truly finished. His office smelled faintly of disinfectant and coffee, and the only sound was the soft shuffle of pages turning.

A knock interrupted the stillness.

“Come in,” he called without looking up.

“Dr. Chishiya…” a voice spoke. The voice belonged to Hikaru Nakayama, the head of administration for Sakurazaka University. The university was home to a prestigious medical school which led to many hospitals and clinics being constructed under its name all throughout Japan. Most students in their medical program ended up at their hospitals at some point during their careers—and Chishiya was one of them.

He knew what Hikaru wanted. For the past three days, he has continuously pestered Chishiya about teaching an intermediate pediatrics course on the university campus. Each and every single time he brought it up, Chishiya always responded the same.

“No.”

Hikaru blinked, clearly thrown off by the bluntness. “I- you haven’t even heard me out.”

“Do I need to?” Chishiya murmured, signing his name on the document in front of him before finally setting his pen down.

The administrator fumbled, tugging at his tie. “If you’d just consider it…there are new benefits we can offer.”

That at least earned Chishiya’s attention. His gaze lifted, sharp and assessing. “I’m listening.”

“Well…” Hikaru cleared his throat. “If you agree, you won’t need to complete your continuing medical education credits this year for your license renewal.”

Chishiya’s pen stilled against the page. That was tempting. He despised wasting hours on mandatory lectures on material he’d already mastered years ago. Slowly, he leaned back in his chair, finally regarding the man standing awkwardly in his doorway.

“You said benefits…as in plural.”

“Yes! Yes,” Hikaru stammered, quick to nod. “There’s also a pay bonus, and-” he paused for dramatic effect, though it did little to hide the anxiety written all over his face, “an extra month of paid leave.”

Chishiya let the silence hang, studying him. His smirk was faint, but there. “Email me the details.”

Hikaru nearly sagged with relief. “Of course, Doctor. Thank you for accepting! The class is r-”

“Email,” Chishiya repeated, picking up his pen again.

The administrator bobbed his head in agreement and backed out, closing the door quietly behind him. Chishiya hummed to himself, amused at the man’s dedication. Whether it was dedication or desperation was debatable, but who was he to care? He certainly wouldn’t care once he got his month of paid time off.

♤♧♡♢

Your laptop screen glared back at you, the spinning wheel taunting you with every failed click. “Oh, come on!” you groaned, slamming the heel of your palm against the trackpad.

From across the couch, your roommate didn’t even look up from her book. Ann was sprawled lazily on her side, reading glasses slipping down her nose as she flipped another page of her thick forensics text.

“What is it now, Y/N?” she asked, voice bored but teasing.

“Remember how I couldn’t register for my pediatrics class yesterday because the system crashed from ‘high volume’?” you grumbled, glaring at the error message on your screen.

“Mhm.”

“Well,” you spun the laptop toward her dramatically, “now there’s only one pediatrics course left open, and the professor isn’t even listed. How am I supposed to know what I’m getting into if I can’t look them up on RateMyProfessor?”

Ann finally looked up, blinking at your theatrics before snorting. “God, dramatic much? You’ll survive. It’s your last semester before you’re free, so look on the bright side.”

“There is no freedom,” you groaned, collapsing backward onto the couch with a throw pillow clutched to your chest. “After med school comes residency. After residency comes endless work until I die.” Your voice was muffled by the pillow, but Ann was already laughing.

You sat up again, shoving the pillow into your lap. “I just like knowing what to expect. What if I get a total jackass professor?”

Ann’s grin widened. “But what if you get a hottie? Extra motivation to study.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, right. The chances of landing a hot professor are practically zero. I’ll probably end up with some old man who smells like chalk dust.”

♤♧♡♢

Sakurazaka University’s lecture hall was louder than usual that morning. Dozens of students crammed into narrow rows, the smell of coffee and cheap convenience-store pastries heavy in the air. The chatter was chaotic with some people nervously flipping through textbooks, others laughing about weekend plans, and you, chewing the inside of your cheek as you refreshed the digital syllabus on your laptop for what felt like the fifteenth time.

The door creaked open.

Silence spread across the room almost instantly, as though the air itself had been held down. A man walked in, his steps unhurried, his presence cold and composed.

Definitely not an old man.

He was younger and far more handsome than you expected. No gray hair, no tired posture of an overworked professor. Instead, a sharp figure in a loose white coat, blond hair falling neatly around his face, dark eyes narrowing with disinterest. He carried no bag, no stack of notes. Just a slim folder, which he placed on the desk with a quiet thunk.

“I’m Dr. Chishiya.” His voice cut through the stillness. It was smooth, low, and effortlessly commanding. “This is Pediatrics 302. Read the syllabus. Don’t waste my time asking questions already answered in it.”

That was it. No warm greeting, no introduction, not even a smile.

Around you, students exchanged wide-eyed looks, some stifling laughter at his bluntness, others already scribbling nervously in their notebooks. You sat up straighter, studying him more closely. His gaze skimmed the room—detached yet sharp—as though he could already tell who would pass, who would fail, and who wasn’t worth his time.

You were in for one hell of a semester.

♤♧♡♢

The lecture hall was quieter than usual, the low hum of ventilation and the occasional shuffle of papers were the only sounds breaking the stillness. It was only the second week and people were already dropping like flies. Whether it was the boring material or the professor who clearly didn't want to be there, people didn't bother attending any more lectures.

You settled into your usual spot near the back, notebook open but mostly untouched. The lecture had already started, Chishiya moving at the front with his usual calm, detached air. You told yourself you were paying attention, but your eyes kept drifting.

At first, it was casual—a glance at how he adjusted the papers on the desk, the neat flick of his pen as he underlined a point, the slight arch of his brow when a student asked a question. There was something…deliberate in the way he moved, almost measured, as if every gesture had been planned, precise and controlled.

You caught your heart speeding up, your chest tightening in a way that felt foreign. It’s just…how he moves, you tried to reason. Focus on the lecture.

But your eyes kept returning to him. His presence constantly pulled you back in each time you shifted your attention back to the textbook. The tilt of his head as he listened to a question, the way the corners of his mouth twitched ever so slightly when he considered an answer, the sharpness in his dark eyes as they scanned the room. Each detail pulled your attention further in. You realized, slowly, that your mind wasn’t on pediatrics at all. It was on Chishiya.

A small chuckle escaped him as a student gave an impractical response to his question, yet you caught it. It was quiet, controlled, yet somehow teasing. Your stomach fluttered. You were fixated by his lectures but not just by the material. You felt a heat rising in your cheeks and cursed yourself silently for thinking about him like that.

You told yourself it was harmless. You weren’t doing anything wrong. You were just observing, noting his mannerisms to memorize them and get on his good side. But when he glanced up, and your eyes met, a jolt ran through you. His gaze was sharp, unwavering, and suddenly it felt too personal.

“You’re staring,” he said, voice low, almost amused, cutting through the lecture hall like a knife. How could he just announce that to the entire class?

Your stomach dropped. “I-I was just…listening,” you stammered, heat flooding your face.

“Listening, huh?” His lips twitched into a faint smirk, corners tugging just slightly, the kind that made your chest tighten.

You swallowed, suddenly acutely aware of how your fingers clenched your pen, how your knees were pressed together tighter than usual. "Yes, I was listening to what you were saying. I wasn't staring-"

“You were,” he said smoothly, voice calm but with that undercurrent of knowing. “If you're too far away, you will never catch the important details but if you look too closely, you will miss the big picture. Don't get too caught up looking at me when the information lies in the text."

Something in the way he spoke, detached yet teasing, sent an electric thrill down your spine. You couldn’t look away, couldn’t stop your heart from racing. Every word, every motion, every glance he gave you felt like it was meant to pull you closer, to make you notice him more.

By the time the lecture ended, your mind had shifted entirely. You were no longer thinking about exams or syllabus points. You were thinking about him. The way he stood, the sound of his voice, the faint smirk that seemed to linger in your thoughts even after he had turned to collect his materials.

You packed up slowly, trying to keep your composure, but your eyes found him again, and he noticed. That faint, deliberate glance he gave you as you left the room made your stomach flutter and your pulse spike. He had seen you. He had seen the way you couldn’t stop staring. And somehow, that made your infatuation feel both thrilling and terrifying all at once.

♤♧♡♢

The “56%” at the top of your test might as well have been a death sentence. The red ink burned against the white page, your pulse pounding in your ears. You swallowed hard, skimming the corrections, but your eyes snagged at the bottom: See me after class.

Your stomach twisted.

You lingered as the lecture hall emptied, the scrape of chairs and shuffle of feet fading until it was just you and Chishiya. He sat at the front desk, chair reclined, pen in hand, flipping idly through papers. His posture screamed nonchalance, but his presence filled the room.

You stepped forward, clutching the exam in sweaty hands. “So…” you tried to laugh, though it came out shaky, “I guess I failed.”

“Observation skills intact,” he murmured without looking up, tapping his pen against your test. “You did fail. Lack of knowledge, lack of preparation, and lack of care led you to receive that grade.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks. You wanted to disappear, but his voice was steady and detached, rooting you to the spot. He finally glanced up, his gaze settling on you with clinical precision.

“Teach me then,” you blurted out.

His pen paused. He looked up slowly, eyes narrowing at you, dark and calculating. “Teach you?” His voice was even, almost bored, but there was a flicker there. A small spark of curiosity.

“Yeah,” you said, forcing a small, nervous giggle. “You can teach me how to earn an A, Professor."

You finally let your eyes meet his, licking your lips nervously under his gaze. You noticed the way his pupils flickered in response. There was a subtle shift from your eyes to your lips, then down to your chest. A heat rushed to your cheeks.

“See something you like, professor?” you teased lightly, testing him, biting the inside of your lip to hide your sudden nervousness. Without thinking, you reached for the buttons of your blouse, unfastening the top one, then the next. The air between you seemed to thrum, heavy with tension.

A shiver ran down your spine as you met his eyes again, searching for approval, anticipation curling in your stomach. And then—like a grip on reality—he leaned back just slightly, the faintest sharp intake of breath, his voice cutting through the charged quiet.

“Ahem.”

Your fingers froze mid-button, heat and panic flooding through you. Chishiya’s eyes snapped back to yours fully, precise and cold, but unmistakably on the edge of control. “I think it would be best to focus on the exam material rather than… whatever ‘extra credit’ you were thinking of.”

Your entire body filled with embarrassment.. “I-I’m so sorry,” you stammered, fumbling to button yourself back up. “I thought you… I thought you knew where I was going with that.”

“I did know.” He cut you off, tone cool but edged with amusement. “I just didn’t think you’d start undressing here and now. Regardless of time or place, it would not be appropriate for a student and teacher to engage in sexual activities.”

“I apologize for trying to get a better grade in an inappropriate way. I know that it could’ve very easily put your job at risk as well as my education,” you immediately bowed your head apologetically. How were you going to get out of this mess now?

“Mmm, it’s not that. I’m technically not employed by the school, so I can really do whatever I wish,” he replied simply.

“So I'm not hot enough??” you blurted out before you could stop yourself. Your hands flew to your mouth at your vulgar language. Not that professionalism was relevant anymore considering you practically stripped in front of him.

“I never said that. As attractive as you are, not everyone can be easily bribed with sex,” he stated.

“Y-You think I’m…attractive?”

“Mmm, forget I said anything,” Chishiya mumbled before he scribbled something on a notepad, sliding the paper toward you.

“This is the counselor’s office. Switch out before you waste any more time failing this course.”

“I can’t,” you shot back instantly, your voice louder than you intended. He raised an eyebrow, yet remained unbothered. “This is the only pediatrics class left. I graduate at the end of this semester. I have to take it.”

“Then do better,” he said simply, already turning back to his papers.

You clenched your fists. “You’re impossible.”

“You’re unprepared.” His tone didn’t waver, but when his eyes flicked up, there was a challenge there. And that was when the idea hit you.

“Fine. If you tutor me and I fail the next exam, I’ll drop the class.”

He tilted his head slightly, studying you as if calculating the probability of your failure. “Mmm. Promising, considering your last score.”

“Oh shut up.” You crossed your arms. “But if I pass, you have to keep tutoring me for the rest of the semester.”

The smirk returned, faint but undeniable. “Fine.”

♤♧♡♢

The library was almost eerily quiet that evening. Golden pools of light spilled from tall lamps across polished wooden tables, casting long shadows between the towering shelves. The smell of old books mingled with the faint aroma of coffee from the small café in the corner. Every footstep you took felt loud against the dark hardwood floors.

You spotted him immediately. Chishiya sat at a corner table, loose white coat draped over the chair, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His posture was perfect. He was relaxed yet confident, just enough lean to suggest the right amount of disinterest. As you approached, his eyes tracked your every movement. Pen in hand, he flipped a page in his textbook slowly, deliberately, as if waiting for you to arrive.

“You’re late,” he said finally, not looking up, voice smooth but carrying that unmistakable edge that made you tense.

“Yeah by two minutes,” you muttered, sliding into the chair across from him, trying to act casual.

He didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he let the silence stretch, eyes finally lifting to appraise you. The corner of his mouth quirked, just slightly. “Two minutes is enough time for a patient to die,” he said. Voice flat and cool. And somehow incredibly challenging.

You rolled your eyes but felt your stomach tighten. Sitting there, across from him, you were hyper-aware of his presence. The faint scent of antiseptics, the way his hair fell over his forehead, the subtle lean of his body toward the desk—just enough to make you feel watched.

He pulled out your test from the last session, flipping it open. “Let’s start with what you got wrong. Why did you miss these questions?”

You explained, careful, your voice steady but betraying slight nerves. He listened, head tilted, eyes narrowing occasionally as if measuring each word, judging each thought. “Incorrect,” he said sharply at one point, and you flinched. “Try again. Think clinically. Observation is key.”

Minutes passed, tension building. You reached for your pen, fingers brushing against his as you moved, and you caught his eye. A flicker passed over his face—subtle, almost imperceptible—before he returned to your notes. Your hand lingered, heat pooling in your chest at the slight contact.

“Focus,” Chishiya said softly, voice low, almost a whisper. Yet the way he said it made the word dangerous, demanding. Surely he knew what he did to you.

You swallowed and refocused, but the tension remained, thick and unrelenting. His instructions were sharp, clipped, yet there were moments where he leaned slightly closer to point at your notes, his proximity sending a jolt through you. Every deliberate movement carried weight. Whether it was his hand brushing your wrist or his knee bumping into yours, it sent shivers down your spine.

When you faltered, he didn’t scold. Instead, he tilted his head, gaze piercing, lips twitching faintly. “Not enough attention to detail,” he murmured, voice low, almost teasing. “Try again.”

You met his stare, cheeks warming. “I’m trying,” you admitted, voice firmer this time.

“Then think harder.” His tone was neutral, almost bored, yet every word carried the unmistakable authority that made your pulse quicken.

These private lessons were turning into torture sessions by the second.

♤♧♡♢

Weeks later, the midterm exam results slid across the desk toward you. Your fingers trembled as you lifted it. Eyes scanning and heart hammering, your breath caught at the top in bold: 90%.

A wave of relief, disbelief, and pride flooded you all at once. You glanced up at Chishiya, desperate for reaction, for any sign that he cared.

He was still calm, composed, almost unreadable, yet the faint twitch at the corner of his lips betrayed something. He moved down the row, indifferent yet precise, flipping through another student’s test.

After class, you waited to the side, the echo of footsteps fading until it was just the two of you. “So… I passed,” you said, testing the words as if they might disappear in the air.

He didn’t smile. Not quite. “Mmm. With such a great teacher, it's hard not to,” he said, his tone clipped, detached.

“Don’t be smug,” you countered, stepping a little closer, heart thudding. “You’re stuck with me now.”

He finally tilted his head, gaze sharp, analyzing. “Unfortunate.” His words were dry and controlled—yet there was something in the way his eyes lingered on you. There was a spark, a flicker of amusement that made your stomach twist.

You squared your shoulders. “I’m not going to fail again,” you said, more firmly. “So, what now? More tutoring?”

He considered, leaning back slightly, fingers drumming the edge of a folder. “If you want to survive this semester, yes. But you will follow my instructions precisely. Deviate, and you fail. No excuses.”

“Deal,” you said, a smirk tugging at your lips despite your nerves.

♤♧♡♢

You walked out of the lecture hall, exam in hand, the bold “90%” still fresh in your mind. Relief, pride, and exhaustion mingled together and your steps began to feel lighter than usual.

But even as you passed the empty hallways, your thoughts refused to stay on your test results. They kept drifting back to Chishiya. The way he had leaned back in his chair, calm and calculating, yet somehow impossibly commanding. The sharp glint in his eyes when he caught your gaze. The subtle smirk at the corner of his lips, the way his hand had hovered over his pen with deliberate precision.

You felt a heat in your chest and a flutter in your stomach that had nothing to do with relief at passing. In the quiet of your thoughts, your mind wandered to…other possibilities. The way his touch might feel, the dangerous thrill of what it would be like to test his control, to see how far he’d let you push. You caught yourself blushing, biting your lip, and shaking your head at just how distracting he had become.

A small and guilty laugh escaped you as you shook the thoughts away, telling yourself to focus—to breathe. But you knew deep down that the next time you saw him, it wouldn’t be just about pediatrics anymore.

Even as you walked back to your apartment, every movement, every glance over your shoulder, was colored by the memory of him. Your pulse quickened, your imagination refused to be tamed, and a thrill of anticipation settled in your chest like a fire just waiting to be ignited.

You couldn't wait to see what he would teach you next.

♤♧♡♢

Lucky for you, Chishiya invited you over to his house for today's study session. This meant you could finally be alone with him without wandering eyes, but it also left much uncertainty for how you would act.

Chishiya’s office was dimly lit, the small desk lamp casting warm shadows over stacks of neatly organized files. He sat with sleeves rolled up, pen scratching against paper. The faint smell of coffee hung in the air.

“You’re late,” he said, “Typical, but you’d think you would be on time for once.”

“Got stuck in traffic,” you responded, hoping that would be a sufficient excuse.

“Hmm,” he contemplated lecturing you again but decided against it. “Let’s get started with what time we have left for today.”

You slid your notebook onto the desk, flipping it open and trying to force your mind into focus. Words swam before your eyes as you scribbled notes, but every time you looked up, you caught him glancing your way. Not overtly, not in a way that felt threatening, but in that deliberate, assessing way he had. His sharp eyes scan your movement, reading you as easily as a patient chart.

The faint scent of antiseptics from the hospital clung to him, mixing with something musky, subtle, intoxicating—and you could feel it seeping into your skin, curling around your senses. You tried to breathe through it, tried to make yourself concentrate on the equations and clinical notes before you, but your hands trembled slightly as you reached for your pen.

His posture was impossible to ignore. Relaxed, controlled, yet every slight lean forward, every casual adjustment of his sleeves seemed purposeful, precise. It was the kind of movement that demanded attention whether you wanted it or not. You found your eyes flicking to the line of his jaw, the curve of his neck, the veins on his arms and cursed yourself silently. Focus, Y/N. Focus on the material.

But the words on the page blurred again, your pen hovering in indecision. You could feel heat pooling low in your stomach, your pulse quickening at every subtle shift he made. His gaze met yours briefly, just a flick, and your chest tightened. You tried to shake your thoughts—focusing on clinical reasoning or patient symptoms—but your mind betrayed you, tracing imagined scenarios where his proximity wasn’t just about tutoring.

A quiet exhale escaped him and you jerked slightly. You looked down, scribbling a note that made no sense. Nothing you wrote seemed coherent, nothing in your mind could focus. The notebook in front of you became a blur of meaningless lines.

Finally, Chishiya’s voice cut through the haze, low and even but threaded with something else, something that made your skin prickle and your breath hitch.

"Y/N, I need you to focus," he murmurs, but there's a hint of something more in his tone.

"You're the one distracting me," you whisper back, your voice barely audible. “This material is so dense…”

There was a moment of silence before you finally made your move.

“I wish you were teaching me something else.”

A faint and knowing smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “That is a dangerous thing you’re suggesting,” he said finally, voice low and even.

Your heartbeat quickened. “Then stop me,” you challenged softly, leaning just slightly closer, daring him.

He tilted his head, silent for a long moment, and in that pause, your pulse pounded in your ears. The tension had built so high it felt like it might snap. You could almost imagine what might happen next. The heat of proximity, the brush of fingers, the taste of lips.

His eyes narrow, and for a moment, you think he might pull away. But instead, he leans in closer, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, yet desperate kiss. It's electric, sending shivers down your spine. You respond eagerly, your hands reaching up to tangle in his hair as you deepen the kiss.

Chishiya's hands roam over your body, exploring every curve. You can feel his desire growing, matching your own. He pulls you onto his lap and you straddle him. You immediately feel his growing length press against your heat, causing a loud whine to leave your mouth. You start grinding against him as you both moan into each other's mouths. The pleasure starts to build up deep within your core.

"Is this what you wanted, Y/N?" he growls, his voice laced with dominance. "To seduce your professor? To have me teach you what it feels like to be fucked right?"

"Yes," you gasp, your hips moving in rhythm with his upward thrusts. "I want you, Chishiya. I need you."

He stands up quickly, lifting you effortlessly, and carries you through the hallway to his bedroom. He lays you down gently on his bed, his body covering yours. His hands trail down your sides, lifting your shirt and exposing your skin to his touch. You arch into him, craving more.

“A-Ah Chishiya! Please touch me,” you whine out. His touch was cold and calculated yet it did nothing but warm your entire body and send shivers of pleasure from head to toe.

Chishiya's mouth finds your neck, kissing and nibbling as his hands explore lower, unbuttoning your pants and slipping his fingers inside. You gasp as his fingers find your wetness, stroking and teasing. He scoops some of your slick up towards your clit and circles around it before he slides a finger inside your hole. He curls his finger deep within you, making you shudder in pleasure. He adds a second finger and continues moving in and out in a rhythm that has you panting and begging for more.

"You're so wet for me," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. "So ready for my cock, isn’t that right?”

All that leaves your mouth is a high pitched moan as his fingers reach deeper than before, curling and caressing your most sensitive spot.

“Be a good girl and respond when your professor asks you a question,” Chishiya orders. He starts kissing down your neck, sucking and leaving markings along your collarbone and chest.

“O-Oh god! Yes, Chishiya! Need your cock so bad, I wanna feel you inside~”

He moves lower, his mouth trailing kisses down to your stomach as he pulls off your pants and underwear. You're completely exposed to him, and the look in his eyes is one of pure hunger. He spreads your legs wide, his tongue diving in to taste you.

“Gotta make sure your cunt is ready for me,” he groans into your pussy. The vibrations from his words make your back arch off of the mattress and tangle your hands in his hair. Your legs threaten to close around him, but he pushes them open with his hands, digging his fingers into the flesh of your thighs.

You cry out as he continues, your hips bucking against his face as he licks and sucks, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. He circles your clit with his tongue, applying just the right amount of pressure to send you spiraling. Just as you're about to cum, he pulls back, a wicked smile on his face.

"Not yet," he says, standing up and unbuttoning his own pants. "I want to feel your pretty pussy cum around me when you do."

He positions himself at your entrance, his eyes locked on yours, asking for permission to enter. You nod your head for him to continue and with one powerful thrust, he's inside you. He moves his entire length inside, filling you completely. You both moan, your bodies reacting to each other in perfect sync. He starts to move, slow and deep, driving you wild with each stroke.

"Chishiya," you cry out, your nails digging into his back. "P-Please, I need more—faster!" You can feel the way his cock twitches at your pleas, making you clench harder down around him.

He lets out a deep groan and obliges, his pace quickening, his hips slamming against yours. The room fills with the sound of your pleasure, your moans and gasps echoing off the walls. You can feel the tension building, your body coiled tight and ready to explode.

"Chishiya! I'm so close—fuck!" you moan.

"Cum for me, Y/N," Chishiya commands, his voice a low growl. "Let me feel you cum around my cock. Show me how badly you've wanted this."

His words push you over the edge, and you shatter, your body convulsing as waves of pleasure crash over you. "Mmm fuck Chishiya! Oh my god—ahhh feels so good!"

"Ah fuck, Y/N. You're clenching around me so tight. I'm gonna cum—Gonna fill you up, okay?" He groaned into your ear, hot breath fanning against your cheek. You nod frantically at his words before his seed spills into you and he collapses on top of you.

He rolls off you, pulling you into his arms as you both come down from the high. You rest your head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, a contented smile on your face. His fingers trace lazy patterns on your skin, sending shivers of aftershock pleasure through you.

"So you finally got what you wanted since day one, huh?" he asks, his voice soft and teasing.

─────

"mm-ngh! Niji, fuck" your small whines were quickly silenced by Nijiro's hand covering your mouth. He had previously swept you away from the set, you weren't acting in the Tokyo Revengers movie but since your boyfriend was, you watched from behind the camera with the rest of the crew. It was so cool seeing your boyfriend in his element, you usually weren't allowed to be with the crew since you don't actually work for them, but the TR production was pretty laid back and let you stay to watch. Which is what you were doing, until about 5 minutes ago.

Nijiro was frustrated with the way they were filming. Usually they'd film a single characters scenes all at once, so they wouldn't have their actors coming on and off constantly, but for some reason they changed it for tonight. The night where Nijiro had to film his biggest fight scene.

It was really pissing him off, the way he'd get fully committed to the character, and then be told to go off and take 5 because they needed to shoot someone else. Why would they change the formula? It was perfect the way it was, now the production will suffer.

And above all else, Nijiro was told to take 5 right when his adrenaline would reach its peak. Naturally, he needed an outlet, a way to keep his energy up. Luckily, his favourite thing to put his energy into was standing right infront of him.

"keep quiet f'me baby.." he whispered, gently covering your mouth with his hand. The only lighting in the bathroom being from the dim street lamps outside, increasing the secretive atmosphere. You were pinned against the bathroom wall as Niji buried himself in your cunt, practically imprinting his shape into your walls. Your eyes travelled down to his arms, fuck. You mentally thank the costume team for finally getting Nijiro to wear a singlet, he never wore shirts that showed off his arms, so you made sure to remember this session over the rest. His sweat gleamed in the faint warm light, decorating his neck and collarbones, your eyes fixated on his fake neck tattoo. Fuck, you'd have to convince him to cosplay or something after this, the sight mixed with the pleasure he gave you was making your head spin.

His arms and shoulders flexed with each thrust as he held you up by your thighs, fucking into you like this was the last time he'd ever get. It took everything in you not to scream out his name, along with a nicely crafted string of cuss words, letting everyone hear how good he fucks you. Small whimpers were the most you could let out, not wanting Niji to get punished for having a quickie mid set.

"You're so good f'me... fuck baby" His voice was intoxicating, his touch made you feel ways you've never felt before. Your arms rested over his shoulders, not that they needed to — his strong hold kept you up with no issue. You were sure that if he fucked you any harder, you'd end up bringing down the wall you were currently pinned up against. He felt the need to groan louder, feeling it build — his mouth soon found your neck, sucking on your sweet spots, only bringing you closer to the edge.

You felt Nijiro's hips stutter, followed by his teeth digging into your skin a little harder than before.

"m-mmh cum, cum with me baby" His hot breath laced your jawline as he rutted into you faster than ever. Feeling that familiar knot in your stomach about to snap, you couldn't stay silent anymore.

"mmh- cumming.. cummingcummingcummi- ahh!" You cried into his neck. Shortly met with the feeling of your walls being painted by Niji's hot white seed, filling you up, keeping you warm. You could swear you saw heaven for a second, his touch made you drunk, reaching a state of euphoria you could never get anywhere else.

His arms gently let you back down, still keeping you steady with your bodies pressed together as you could barely stand. Whispering sweet praises in your ear as his hand went down to fuck his cum back into you, not letting any leak out. You smiled weakly as his words laced your eardrums, almost forgetting he was in the middle of his job.

"Nijiro! Wherever you are, you're back on in two." The director shouted.

"Fuck, 'm sorry baby. I'll take care of you when we're home ok? I love you" He said, getting his pants back on at the speed of light. Not bothering to wash his hands, but instead resorting to licking your combined juices off his fingers, and with a quick kiss to your cheek, he was gone.

You knew he'd keep his word, now all you'd have to do was wait till you got home to recieve his aftercare.

You looked at him, your eyes soft, but eventually looking back up at Hatter. You didn’t speak, you just listened. That was unusal, even for you.

Everything seemed out of place now. To Chishiya, at least.

You looked like you were having the time of your life. You seemed so attentive, and kind towards the others. He thought that was reserved for him. Only him. No one else.

Oh god, now is he jealous? What the fuck is up with him?? He hated this so much. He shoved his hands in his pockets a little harder than intended and ended up hitting his knuckle on the side of the table..

He looked down, breathing in sharply.

Chishiya needed out of here.

As soon as the meeting ended, Chishiya got up, nearly bolting out of the room with his hands in his pockets, and his head down. He didn’t even wait for you.

You shrugged off the feeling that you did something wrong, and walked out behind him.

You pretty much had to run to catch up to him, “Hey, Chishiya-”

He ignored you. No surprise there. You tried again,

“Chishi-”

“What? What is it?” Chishiya finally turned around, eyes you like you were a foreign thing to him.

“Are you okay?” You mutter, looking at him and taking a few steps closer.

“Never been better.” He fidgeted with the hem of his white jacket with one hand.

“You sure?”

“Y/N.”

You stare at him, your eyebrows furrowing as you cross your arms. “Chishiya.”

You stare at each other for a good few minutes before Chishiya lets out a sigh.

“It’s cute when you try to be serious. I’ll be in my room if you need me.” He quickly stated before turning on his heel and walking off. Normally now. He felt.. lighter somehow?

You just stared as you watched him walk away. You knew he wasn’t a really touchy or really anything to do with emotion, kind of person. You just exhaled and turned to go to your own room.

Maybe you’d get through to him. One of these days.

———

You lied in bed. You usually didn’t sleep, because someone was keeping you up, or partying and people downstairs kept you up. It was a never ending cycle of sleep deprivation..

So you did what you would usually do.

Go to Chishiya’s room.

You hoped and prayed that he was in the mood because honestly you were.

You knocked on his door before cracking it open slightly. You looked in, “Chishiya? Can I come in?” You softly spoke before you heard a faint, “Go ahead.”

You walked in, shutting the door behind you. He was lying down, his legs over the edge of the bed.

You gulped slightly, chuckling softly, “What’re you doing?”

Chishiya gave a soft smirk, acknowledging you. “Lying down.” He suddenly took a hand out of his pocket, patting his leg.

You rolled your eyes, staring at the gesture before taking your seat beside him, only to annoy him since you knew what he really wanted.

Chishiya sits up, looking at you through his lashes. God, there was that stare again. He leans back, setting himself up on his arms. You froze.

Huh??

You softly giggled, nudging him with your shoulder, “What, didn’t sleep? You look all droopy.” You thought about your statement for a while, “Do you ever?”

“What’s it matter?” He mumbled, looking at you. He looked you up and down, almost admiring every curve of your body.

“What’d you come here for?” He suddenly questioned.

You hesitate, giving him a look. You give him a half-smile.

“I see.” He chuckled, even though you didn’t say anything, he knew what you wanted. He knew what you needed.

The next thing you knew, you were tangled in the sheets.

———

The next morning, you turned to look at Chishiya. He was there, but he was asleep. It was his room after all. You get up, your legs feeling like jelly from the night before.

He really didn’t hold back this time..

You gathered your things, putting on your clothes. You looked down at Chishiya’s seemingly asleep form. You turn to walk out when you hear him mumble..

“So eager to leave me by myself?”

You turned back around slowly, staring at him. He was awake now, sitting up and resting against the headboard of the bed. His eyes bore into yours. Calculating.. slightly soft.

“I should’ve known. You don’t sleep.”

“Sometimes.” He added.

You shook her head, giggling softly, “Most of the time.” You looked down at him.

Chishiya patted the spot next to him on the edge of the bed. A silent offering.

You hesitated. Suddenly, your shoes were the most interesting thing in the room.

“I’m gonna go shower.. in my own room. You gonna play a game today?” You asked, brushing off what he offered easily.

Chishiya tensed up slightly. He didn’t like being brushed off like that. He softly scoffed, resting his arm on his knee. “Probably not. My visa isn’t running out any time soon.”

You nodded, “Alright.. I’ll see you later, okay? You know where to find me.” You shot him a smile before walking out of the room, shutting the door behind you.

Chishiya softly exhaled through his nose, staring at his now empty bed.

He’s changing.

———

Since you honestly needed a shower, you took one. After you got out, you decided to get something to eat. You almost pretty much starved yourself every so why not take a little bite of something?

The beach had food somewhere around here.. right? Yeah. Not just alcohol and drugs.. right? Yeah. You went down the elevator, going into the kitchen and just grabbing some snacks. Some of your favorites.

“What’re you doing?” You immediately snap around to face an executive, Ann.

“Uhh.. eating something?” you say nervously as you hold up a pack of cookies. Chishiya’s favorite, to be exact.

“There’s an executive meeting. We want you there.”

“Oh..” You mumbled, surprised and kind of nervous since you knew Chishiya would be there. “When is it?”

“Right now. Come on.” Ann said quickly, turning on her heel with crossed arms.

Jeez she’s intimidating…oh wait-

“Hey can I eat first?” You quickly call out, walking after her.

No answer.

Great.. now I’ll be hungry and nervous. Never a good combo..

You put down your snacks on the kitchen table, hoping no one would steal them in the meantime.

———

You sat beside Chishiya this time, hoping he wouldn’t move away. He glanced at you, huffing slightly and shifting his position to seem more attentive at Hatter.

You sigh softly, then suddenly feel eyes glued to the back of your head. You knew it wasn’t Chishiya.. no his eyes were on Hatter’s rambling form. You glanced beside you, not getting a good enough look to who was staring at you.

“Niragi. Are you paying attention?” Hatter suddenly cut out of his monologue.

“Hah? Yeah I’m listening.” Niragi spoke up. You looked at him, and noticed that his eyes bore into yours. Chishiya turned to stare at him with a cold and detached look.

You slowly turned back around, tensing up slightly. Hatter continued,

“If you aren’t going to listen, you might as well leave. We have a fine replacement for you right here. Isn’t that right, Y/N?”

You snapped up. In all honesty you weren’t paying attention either. “Uh.. I-”

“She’s not exactly a good fit.” Chishiya spat. “She’d be almost exactly like Niragi. Only without the asshole attitude.”

Was he trying to save me or insult me? You thought.

Niragi let out a low laugh, and you snapped to turn around to stare at him. Niragi winked at you, smirking and turning his attention to Hatter.

You froze up slightly, turning back around until you saw out of the corner of your eye, something that kind of scared you.

Chishiya was glaring.

Not at you, of course, he was glaring at Niragi. He never glared, just gazed.. or stared. Chishiya flexed his hands in his pockets, refraining from reaching out to wrap an arm around you.

Okay what the hell is happening to him?

First, he cuddled you.. (despite it being really short), he called you cute, felt jealous, and now this?

He might as well be fucked.

A/N: Okay, people really liked the first one, so I plan to definitely make a series of this!

@ankababy @adanfore

Your days were busier than ever since you started college. Studying to be a teacher, which many often pouted their lips and expressed their sympathies when you told them, was not actually as easy as people thought. You had to complete a few hundred hours of your externship on top of classes and your part-time job to pay for said classes.

The work would be fulfilling, eventually. When you finally finished shadowing Mr. Sato, the biggest pain in your ass, you could be free to begin your first official year of teaching and quit your miserable job as a bartender. Contrasting fields, yes, but the tips paid the bills well.

Each night, your shift ended at around two in the morning and you went straight from the bar and to your apartment, passing out and waking up bright and early at seven for your weekday classes. Luckily, most shifts at the bar were on Thursdays and weekends, while all classes and externship hours were during weekdays. After class, it was typically back to the bar to open.

You couldn't complain too much. Besides having a non-existent social life beyond a classroom of fourth-graders and classrooms of college students, you flew under the radar pretty well. No one had it out for you, nor you for them, but any off days you rarely had were not spent in the company of friends or even friendly coworkers, just by yourself in your little apartment waiting for time to pass. A boring and uneventful life. Sometimes you wondered what it was all for, and you had yet to find your answer. You told yourself that after graduation it would all turn out perfect, and you'd live normally while balancing your social life better, maybe even get married after a few years of healthy stability. But that itch was still on the back of your mind, asking, ‘for what?’

Today was booked with all three. After your unpaid shift with Mr. Hana's class and your ‘School and Classroom Culture’ class, you headed to work.

The club was crowded at the end of the week. Friday had brought in a chill every time the door opened, leaving the sweaty atmosphere to be momentarily paused as groups flitted in and stumbled out. You were working on your umpteenth round of the cheapest vodka shots the establishment offered, enjoying the chill despite the brash complaints around you about it. Sliding the shots onto a tray, you nodded for Hana to serve her table.

“Thanks, babe!” She chirped with a wink and shouldered the tray off to the table of cheering ladies.

Onto the next.

A man with jet black hair hovering just over his shoulders and a middle part framing his face sat right at the bar. He seemed jittery and slightly nervous, as if you might say ‘no’ to any request he may have. He was in work uniform, an office you guessed, looking beyond him to see a group of guys dressed the same and gawking at the girls dancing.

“Excuse me?” He began, glancing over his shoulder.

“What can I get you?” You perked up, putting on your best customer service place. Nervous guys were a million times better than the cocky ones who thought they were entitled to seeing more skin or even a dance from you, despite the readily available shows up front. The thrill of what they could not have, you supposed. Guys like this were a blessing, despite their eyes giving away their desires.

He licked his lips shortly, glancing down at your own chest on view through your black tank top before shooting his eyes quickly back up. “Three—no, nine, probably— sake shots.” He stumbled.

You raised a brow, counting him as the sixth. “Is that it?” You asked, moving to pull the bottle from its shelf and a multitude of glasses.

“I'm driving everyone home.” He explained with a slight flush. The men in the back chortled at one another's jokes while he seemed in no rush at all to join them again. After you poured the triple round tray, she handed it off to the guy.

You hadn't even made another full drink for the lady next to him before he was back, tray under his arm and the guys at a table downing their shots behind him. “Here,” he mumbled, politely placing the tray on the sticky counter.

You nodded appreciatively, topping the mojito off with some mint leaves on the rim. The lady smiled and thanked you before rejoining her group of friends, leaving the man standing in front of the bar awkwardly alone.

Seeing as he was the only one, you allowed yourself a brief break to wipe the counter. “Not going to join your coworkers?” You asked curiously.

He squeezed his hands together, shaking his head with pursed lips. “Co-workers.” He corrected.

You nodded understandingly, knowing he must have been coerced into being a DD for some coworkers who didn't want to spend their time sober. “How about a soda?” You offered with a small smile.

Hours passed quickly, customer's faces all bleeding together. The man eventually left with his intoxicated group after lingering around the bar and watching his co-workers and the girls both from a safe distance. You didn't think much about him after, focusing on cleaning your station and heading the hell home.

Hana brushed against you behind the bar, helping herself to a generous double shot of a lemon drop cocktail-her absolute favorite despite your sour face whenever she offers one to you-and leans against the counter to sip on it while you finish up.

"Doing anything tomorrow? I was thinking of getting dinner with some girlfriends and barhopping afterward." She suggested with a lift of her glass.

"I can't." You sighed. "Got a project to finish, then work again tomorrow night."

Hana leaned her head back as if she were wounded. "You alwaysss 'can't'. Come on, babes, live a little. You're only twenty-two, and you live like an old hermit."

You couldn't disagree. "Next time, Hana. I promise."

She sends you a sympathetic smile. "If you ever need anything, you got my number."

"I know. Thanks," you offer weakly.

Despite the chill on the walk to the train, you still felt the residue of the club on your skin and clothes. You smelled like beer and liquor over old perfume, something you'd unfortunately grown used to. Although your own insensitivity didn't stop others from giving you disgusted glances passerbys gave you as if you were stumbling around the streets of Tokyo begging for cash.

Relaxing into a seat, you felt the grogginess of the day wash over you. As much as you fought against it, you fell asleep in your empty train car.

Jerking awake at the dinging of the last stop call, you promptly collected your belongings. You jumped up and off the train, climbing the stairs and out onto the dark streets. Completely empty and nearly pitch black, you were stopped in your tracks. No people being outside at 3 a.m wasn't a crazy thing in this part of town, but the streetlights being down? You clutched your bag tight, wondering if you'd stepped into a horror movie shooting.

As you continued down the path towards your apartment, you brought up your phone to glimpse at the local news and electrical issues.

When the phone wouldn't even turn on, you began to panic. Shoving your things into your bag, you started to briskly walk home. The way was only lit up by the full moon, making reflective street signs possible to navigate around with.

When the first firework ‘popped!’ in the skies and whined all the way down, you jumped. “Fireworks?” You muttered aloud, stepping off the sidewalk to get a better view in the street. Abandoned cars littered it, but you forced yourself to ignore them in favor of this all being a high-budget movie scene. That hope could only last so long.

If the streets were really being rented out, then why wasn't the skyline of Tokyo at least still lit? It was virtually impossible to clear an entire city for a piece of media, no matter the budget.

Finally, you spotted a faint light coming from a distant building. You sprinted towards it, seeing it as your only chance for answers or other people. Let it be a prank, you silently pleaded.

When you reached the place, you read the lit sign, humming at the frank realization that this place was something like an office building. It was tall and skinny, with a logo you didn't recognize on it. Another building sat parallel to it with a bridge connecting it but it stayed unlit. Gingerly, you stepped into it and flinched as a robotic voice called out.

“One player registered. Waiting for others. Please take one phone per person.”

It was then she realized there was a silver table with a bunch of lines neatly lined up. When she grabbed one, it spoke again. “Reading facial I.D.” When you saw your name written across the white screen in bold black letters, your heart dropped to your stomach.

There was no time to dwell when another person wandered into the building. You turned to them, hoping that this person might be the one who revealed any answers, but were only met with a mirrored face. A woman, slightly taller than you with pajamas on but an alert expression. “What's going on?” She asked, voice small.

You looked behind her, seeing a foreign man enter with a disciplined calmness. “I don't know. You're the first people I've seen.” You told her, earning a frown. You both seemed to have the same idea by looking at the older man. He shrugged, glancing around.

“I was wonderin’ why all those fireworks was goin’ off.” He said tiredly.

More people entered, and a familiar face finally showed up. The man from the bar, who immediately also perked up upon seeing your face. You found each other quickly, standing side by side after everyone picked up a phone. Even if you didn't know each other, the slight comfort was like grasping at straws.

He whispered to you, suspiciously looking at all of the other strangers. “Do you know what the hell is going on?”

With a hopeless shake of your head, the man sighed and melted into the wall. Cutting off the scared murmurs, the robotic female voice spoke again. “Registration closed. There are fifteen players.”

A white screen lit up at the top of the elevator.

Displayed on it as well as being read out loud: “Game: Fishbowl. Difficulty: Three of Diamonds.”

“Diamond?” You asked, getting no answer from anyone else.

“Objective: Find the exit to the mazes on each floor. There are 10 levels total. Clear conditions: Make it to the roof before the timer runs out.”

“That sounds easy enough.” A teenager's voice broke through the silence.

“Yet it doesn't explain why we're doing a game in the first place. I'm going home, fuck this.” Another guy grumbled, obviously too irritated to continue playing the random game. When he turned his back and went through the entranceway doors, the small red-lined lasers shot through him like knives.

The room erupted in panic and screams. No one was silent or still, and you stood next to the wall with warm splatters of blood on your face and clothes. With a trembling hand, you reached up to wipe a bit off, revealing the same red that touched everything else in the lobby.

“Game start. Time: Three hours.”

“Is that all we have?” You whispered, the taller man beside you eyeing the scene and the dead man silently. He seemed to straighten from his slouched and nervous posture, eyebrows knitting together like he just solved something. Without a word, he brushed past you and to the stairwell.

It let him open the door, and he disappeared up the stairs whilst everyone still flurried about.

You were quick to follow, not wanting to meet the same grizzly fate as the dead man. There would be time to figure out whats and hows and whos later—when you were safe at home.

Up the first floor of stairs, the second level's door opening and displaying a big ‘1’ on it.

The man opens it, and you are surprised to see office-like cubicle walls climbing to the top in wide rows. It was like the real office was gone and changed out with an entirely new structure. Along the white walls were some paintings still hung up and some plants somehow decorating the ugly carpet in a few corners.

He took the lead, stepping with a newfound confidence. “Wait!” You urged. “What if there's more lasers?”

He looked over his shoulder, shrugging. “Maybe, but we'll just have to find out.”

Slightly irked, you followed still. After about ten minutes, you were both utterly lost. Others had joined and started to play as little ducklings following their mother, but you supposed it would be hypocritical to judge when you had done the very same.

“We've been around the floor a hundred times!” He exaggerated, brushing his hands through his hair.

“Have some patience.” You bit. “You're freaking me out.”

Going back to the stairwell, you retraced your steps and started again.

Using the method of right-hand-to-wall as you typically followed in video games, you began to lead in front.

More minutes passed and more dead ends appeared. The windows where the main walls of the building showed the empty night sky and the next door building reflecting the moon light still. You checked your phone, seeing a flashing ‘2:32: left on your timer. Thirty minutes had passed and floor one wasn't even completed.

“Shit.” You started to run back to the start, practically having it memorized by now. You ran into the stairwell again, wincing when you half-expected the doorway to laser you down but continuing in your rush when it hadn't. The doorway to the third floor was locked, as expected, but different from the second floor, it had a small pin pad on its knob.

How obvious. All fourteen of you had spent over thirty minutes looking for a door when it was behind you all along. “We need digits!” You yelled into the doorway.

A few stragglers waited at the doorway, not having any use while most continued their search. “Look for any numbers!” The man shouted louder in your echo, leaving the room to burst into murmurs and leave plants and paintings tossed around.

The teenager came running to the door, panting but with a satisfied smile on her face. “Look! It has a ‘4’ on the back!”

The players all cheered, and you held the painting backwards to inspect. “How do we know what order to place them in?” You muttered to yourself. In a matter of minutes all of the paintings that carried numbers were laid in front of the doorway.

‘4’ ‘2’ ‘3’ ‘1’

“There's way too many options.” An old man with a hunched back spoke up darkly. “There's no time to do this for every floor.”

“Flip them.” Your club companion said.

On the fronts were simple but quite beautiful paintings of scenery. A pond, a park, a forest, and a beach.

An idea shot into your mind as you inspected the order of them. Kneeling in front of them, you arranged the paintings in the order of their backgrounds. Sunset, to noon, to afternoon, and finally to dusk. “Read them out to me in this order.” You told the man, who nodded as his eyes lit up in realization.

At the keypad, you fingered the digits he yelled out to you. “Three, two, four, one!”

It clicked open. You cheered and beckoned for the rest. After the first puzzle was solved, eight more went by smoothly. It was the same concept, only getting slightly harder as it went up. Stages of a frog, generations of a family, technological ages of humanity, and so forth until the 10th door was unlocked. Only one more door and you would be out.

When the door opened, you were stunned to see that all the walls were glass. The entire room was see-through, including the outer walls and the view from the height was nearly nauseating from all the clarity. “Everyone…” Someone called out in fear. They stood on one of the last steps behind the group. “Water is rising.” They lifted their feet up, revealing sopping wet shoes and ends of her pant legs. She scrambled to the upper steps, and everyone followed suit to get away from the water. This time, there was a clear red door on the other side of the room.

You swallowed harshly at the rapidly rising water, realizing that even closing the door behind you didn't make it any slower as it seemed to ooze out of the very walls themselves. Cubicles showed themselves, lighting up on the floor in a blinding white. “One player per room. All living players must solve their puzzles before the time runs out.”

The buzzer went off and doors opened to allow all fourteen of them into the rooms. The man and her were parallel, eyes meeting with you showing signs of nerve and him seemingly gaining confidence on his own.

A screen rose in front of you, sticking out of the water and coming to life with a riddle on its screen. “What does everyone's screen say?” You asked, hoping to collectively solve it.

“Something about two birds.” The teen replied with a desperate look to you.

“Mine is a math equation.” Another said.

The old man piped up, beginning to read off his own question though he was easily drowned out in all of the noise.

You looked to your own, which seemed daunting on its own. What happens when you get it wrong?

Your answer came in a nightmare. The old man had selected a random option in hopes of guessing correctly, and everyone could only watch on as his cube was immediately flooded to the brim with water. His lights turned bright red and you turned your gaze away and covered your ears to prevent the sight and sounds from implanting themselves in your head forever.

When it all got quiet, you checked your phone again.

‘0:08’

Eight more minutes. Your cube's water was already to your waistline and climbing still. You focused on your own question although the urge to answer other's pleas for assistance and confusion nagged at you insistently. The sound of more water and more screams and choked gargling was all that was left in the room as your water rose above your head, too.

‘What is the last number in the sequence?

895371’

You scanned over the sequence repeatedly, seeing flashes of white lights turning red around your peripherals and one turning green.

Entering a sloppy, ‘1’ in the keypad, you kicked up to the top of the cube to gasp in what little air was left at the top. Looking around you saw no one except for the club man. Your own cube's lights flashed green, and the click of the doors could vaguely be heard above the sound of rushing water. You both dived under, pushing at your doors.

His budged open immediately and he swam up and towards the exit door that lead up. You kept pushing at your own, heart racing and running out of air, but nothing made it open. Going topside again, you shouted out. “My door is jammed!”

He stopped in place, the few inches left of water between him and the ceiling showing his wet lashes looking down his nose at you. Clenching his jaw, he looked rapidly between the door and you. Finally, he clicked his tongue and pushed off the glass to your area.

In sync, you held your breaths for the last time and swam down to the door. You nodded, signaling for him to pull and you to push. After a few tries, the water-jammed door pried open and you swam together towards the red door.

You tried your hardest to ignore the lifeless floating bodies that were at the top of each cube.

It opened outwards, the two of you being flung against the wall by the water that rushed down the stairwell. A shout of pain left his lips below you and you scrambled up, panting out and apologizing for cornering him and possibly bruising his ribs.

The water didn't stop there, following you both as you ran up more stairs and onto the roof. Hands on your knees, you coughed up the remaining water from your throat and lungs and sat down, elbows shakily supporting your body. What had happened in the last three hours? You had just witnessed thirteen people die in one night when you hadn't seen a single death in your life prior.

Who put you here, and for what purpose were you playing these games?

Your phone chimed. “Game cleared. Visa days added: 3 days remaining.”

You and the man stood alone on the roof, not a single other survivor from the game alive. You weren't sure if there was any person in this world left alive, either, besides from you and him.

“You owe me.” He said with an ominous one. “Don't forget that.”

“I won't.” You promised. Then after a long pause, you added your name in a smaller tone.

“Niragi.” Was all he offered, and you briefly wondered how just over three hours ago, this man was meek and clearly a pushover in every aspect of his life. Now, everything about him seemed straighter and more intimidating.

Sticking by him, you were unsure if it meant being thrown to the wolves at the first sight of danger or defended in a play of arrogance. Though your common sense urged you to leave at the first sign of his distraction, you stayed firmly planted by his side.

Perhaps there was some benefit to this strange and peculiar world, no more work and no more rent. Safety was in numbers, after all, and having a guy like Niragi might save your ass again.

During one particularly intense practice, Nanase tripped over the ball, tumbling hard onto the ground. The sting of scraped knees bit into his skin, and dirt clung to the fresh wounds. He bit back tears, willing himself to get back up before anyone noticed.

“Shake it off, Nanase!” your dad barked from across the field.

Before he could, though, you were already walking toward him, first-aid kit in hand.

“Sit down,” you ordered gently, kneeling beside him.

Nanase froze, unsure of what to say as you cleaned the dirt from his knees with an alcohol wipe. He flinched at the sting but tried to hide it, not wanting to seem weak in front of you.

“It’s not that bad,” he muttered.

You glanced up at him, unimpressed. “Don’t be stupid. You can’t play if you’re bleeding all over the field.”

Your hands worked quickly, applying bright, colorful bandages to his scraped knees. When you finished, you gave him a small smile.

“There. Now you’re good as new.”

Something shifted in that moment. Nanase stared at you, wide-eyed, as if seeing you for the first time. You weren’t as scary as he thought—just kind.

From then on, Nanase couldn’t help but gravitate toward you. During water breaks, he’d wander over to the sidelines, chatting with you about school, soccer, or whatever came to mind. He wasn’t naturally talkative, but around you, the words came easily.

You teased him about his growing habit. “You know, you’re supposed to practice during practice, right?”

“I’m taking a break,” he’d say, grinning sheepishly.

Somewhere between bandaged knees and quiet conversations, a friendship bloomed.

By the time you both reached junior high, you and Nanase were inseparable. He still played under your dad’s coaching, but now the practices were more intense, the stakes higher. Your dad pushed Nanase harder than ever, singling him out during drills and yelling at him to work harder.

“He’s only like this because he believes in you,” you’d remind Nanase after practice when he dragged himself to the bleachers, exhausted.

“I know,” he’d reply, his smile a little strained. “Doesn’t make it easier, though.”

You’d sit together for a while, watching the sunset paint the sky orange and pink. Sometimes, he’d lean over to peek at your notebook, curious about what you were sketching or writing.

“What’s this?” he’d ask, pointing at one of your doodles.

“Nothing important,” you’d say, closing the notebook quickly, but he’d grin, knowing you didn’t actually mind his nosiness.

By the time you both hit your final year of junior high, the lines of friendship had blurred into something more. It wasn’t sudden—more like a slow, inevitable shift. Lingering touches, the way his eyes lingered on you longer than before, the flutter in your chest when he smiled at you.

One evening after practice, while the rest of the team was packing up, Nanase pulled you aside behind the equipment shed.

“I, uh…” He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

You tilted your head, curious. “What is it?”

“I like you,” he blurted out, his face red as he looked at the ground. “Like, really like you.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and before you could overthink it, you leaned forward, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek.

“I like you too,” you admitted softly, your face just as red as his.

That was how it started—your quiet, secret relationship.

Nanase respected your dad, a lot actually, but what your dad didn’t know was that Nanase had kissed you behind the equipment shed before almost every practice.

High school came with its own challenges. Your dad, still Nanase’s coach, watched him like a hawk.

“If you’re friends with my daughter, that’s fine,” your dad told him one day after practice, his tone firm. “But no dating. Got it?”

Nanase nodded obediently, but behind closed doors, nothing changed. If anything, your relationship only deepened.

One night during a particularly bad storm, you heard a faint tapping at your window. Nervously, you peeked out and saw Nanase standing there, drenched from head to toe.

“What are you doing?!” you whispered harshly as you opened the window, helping him climb inside.

“I figured you’d be scared,” he said, dripping water onto your floor.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling as you tossed him a towel. “You’re insane, you know that?”

He changed into the spare clothes you kept hidden for him, and the two of you curled up under your blankets. When the thunder roared, you gripped his arm tightly, and he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

By morning, the storm had passed, but the real trouble came when your dad knocked on your door.

“Sweetie?” he called, opening the door before you could answer.

You stood by your closet, your face burning red. “H-Hi, Dad!”

He frowned. “You’re all sweaty. You sick?”

“Nope! Just… couldn’t sleep because of the storm,” you stammered.

He nodded, eyeing you for a moment before leaving. The second the door shut, you opened your closet, and Nanase tumbled out, laughing quietly.

“You gotta go,” you whispered, trying not to laugh yourself.

Nanase grinned, leaning down to kiss you. “I love you. See you at school.”

When the Blue Lock letter arrived, you were sitting on Nanase’s bed, textbooks spread out as you studied together.

He opened the envelope, his eyes widening as he read the words.

“What is it?” you asked, sitting up straighter.

He handed you the letter, and your jaw dropped. “Nanase, this is amazing!”

But he didn’t look as thrilled as you expected.

“What about you?” he asked quietly. “I don’t want to leave you.”

Your excitement faltered as the reality hit you. If he went, things would change.

“Oh,” you murmured.

“I won’t go if you don’t want me to,” he said quickly, his voice filled with worry.

You shook your head, forcing a smile. “Don’t be stupid. This is your dream.”

“It’s not worth it if I lose you,” he whispered, his fingers brushing yours.

“You won’t,” you promised, leaning your head on his shoulder.

Blue Lock was unlike anything Nanase had ever experienced. The training was brutal, the pressure relentless, and the competition cutthroat. Yet, through all of it, he never took off the bracelet you made for him before he left—a simple cord with your favorite colors braided together.

At first, no one noticed it. But one day in the locker room, one of his teammates, a tall striker with a loud mouth and a knack for teasing, spotted it while Nanase was getting changed.

“Yo, Nanase,” the striker said, pointing at his wrist. “What’s with the bracelet? Got a girlfriend or something?”

Nanase froze for a moment, caught off guard. “Uh…”

The striker grinned, sensing an opportunity. “Oh, you do have a girlfriend. What, did she make that for you? That’s cute.”

Nanase turned red, instinctively pulling his wrist close to his chest. “It’s none of your business,” he mumbled.

But the striker wasn’t letting up. “Come on, man. Don’t be shy. What’s the deal? Is it like a good luck charm or something?”

Nanase tried to ignore him, but the teasing continued. Finally, something snapped.

“Yeah, she made it for me,” Nanase said, his voice louder than usual. “She spent hours on it, making sure it was perfect, even though I told her she didn’t have to. She’s the most supportive person I’ve ever known. She’s been there for me since we were kids—every practice, every game, cheering me on, even when I didn’t believe in myself. This bracelet reminds me of her and everything I’m fighting for here. So yeah, it’s important to me. You got a problem with that?”

The locker room went silent.

The striker blinked, stunned by the outburst, before muttering, “Damn, man. I wish I hadn’t asked.”

Nanase sighed, his face burning, but he didn’t regret a single word. Later that night, as he lay in his bunk, he twisted the bracelet around his wrist, a small smile tugging at his lips. Thinking of you gave him strength.

The U-20 match was the biggest stage Nanase had ever stepped onto. The stadium lights burned bright, illuminating the field where some of the best players in the country were battling it out. Nanase’s heart raced as he stood on the sidelines, watching the chaos unfold.

He didn’t get much playing time, and deep down, he felt a pang of disappointment. He wanted to prove himself—not just to the world but to you, the one who had always believed in him.

When the coach finally called his name, his pulse quickened. He stepped onto the field, taking his position.

The match was intense, every second a blur of movement, strategy, and noise. Nanase didn’t score a goal, but he played his heart out, assisting a crucial pass that led to one. The crowd roared, and though it wasn’t his name they were chanting, he felt a surge of pride.

When the final whistle blew, signaling Blue Lock’s victory, he stood on the field, chest heaving as the adrenaline slowly faded.

And then he saw you.

You were running onto the field, weaving through the crowd of players until you reached him. Without a second thought, you threw your arms around him, holding him tightly.

“You were amazing,” you said, your voice filled with pride.

Nanase hesitated. “I didn’t do much,” he said quietly, his eyes downcast. “I wasn’t even on the field for most of it.”

You pulled back, your hands on his shoulders, forcing him to look at you. “Don’t say that. You made a difference. You played your heart out. That’s what matters.”

He smiled, a little sheepishly, but his chest felt lighter.

“Nanase.”

The sound of your dad’s voice made both of you freeze. You turned, seeing him standing a few feet away, his expression unreadable.

“Sir,” Nanase said quickly, stepping back from you. “I’m glad you came.”

Your dad didn’t say anything at first, just stared at the two of you. Finally, he spoke. “I’m not stupid, boy.”

Nanase swallowed hard.

“But,” your dad continued, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, “you’ve made me proud today. Just don’t forget what I said—don’t hurt her.”

Nanase nodded quickly, relief flooding his face. “I won’t. I promise.”

Your dad gave a short nod before walking away, leaving the two of you standing there.

Nanase turned to you, his hand finding yours. “Did that just happen?”

You laughed, squeezing his hand. “I think he’s finally on your side.”

Nanase smiled, his heart swelling with gratitude and love. He might not have been the star of the match, but to you—and now, apparently, to your dad—he was more than enough.

As you walked off the field together, the stadium lights casting long shadows, Nanase tightened his grip on your hand, silently vowing to keep proving himself—not just as a player but as the person who would always be worthy of your love.

idc if he's underrated, i will write for him til the cows come home

it's irrational. it's irrational and a waste of time.

chishiya believed he had long ago lost all his will to live. he was barely capable of feeling simple human emotions after viewing firsthand how ruthless those same human beings can be to each other.

children die everyday due to the crazy prices of medicine their parents can't afford. women are abused and sexualized and after speaking up somehow it is their fault. lives are taken away only for the fact that others seem more valuable to the society. people choose money over their own loved ones. he's seen it all throughout his course of life, his job as a future doctor not helping the attempts he would make to distract himself from this reality. this is what made him so emotionally distant.

chishiya couldn't comprehend why people took their lives so seriously, trying their best to make it out alive of the deathly games they were condoned with. anyone could die at any given moment, doesn't matter if they are in the borderlands or not. after all, unless you have money and power, in a few years no one will remember who you were.

he considered altruism useless, prioritizing his own life instead of others. if he could help someone who was at the doors of death with no negative outcome, he'd choose not to interfere, knowing that same person would die sooner or later.

and in truth, you were the complete opposite of him. if he had to define altruism in a word, he would say your name.

you made no absolute sense in his mind. so why did he feel so attracted to your mindset? why did he want to constantly learn more about what you believed in? and why did he feel so different around you?

chishiya had never felt this way about anything. so when he realized how his heart fluttered when you looked his way, or how his smart head unlearned how to properly think when you both had a deep talk, he was nothing more and nothing less than afraid. afraid that what he was feeling for another human being was love, a big flaw in the borderlands.

sometimes at night he'd ponder about how things would have turned out if he had met you in the real world. if things would have been easier there, and if he wouldn't be as afraid.

"do you like them?" kuina asked, straightforward as usual, as he stared endlessly at your back from the other side of the main division of the beach. "if you like them, you should date."

"i don't like them." he replied sourly, not bothering to bat an eye towards kuina, knowing well she'd have an eyebrow raised to show her uncertainty to what he just affirmed. "i just think they're smart, is all."

chishiya knew deep down he was lying, but he couldn't get his mind wrapped around the fact he might be falling for someone, his only visible option at the moment being denial, denial and denial.

"they could die at any moment," kuina said, a hand moving to her dummy cigarette as she kept chewing on it, now her eyes were also on you. "you should tell them about your feelings already."

"i already told you i don't have feelings for them." chishiya rolled his eyes. kuina had always spoke what comes to mind and it wasn't something chishiya liked about her, especially when it was directed towards him.

but he couldn't help but stop for a while, as his mind betrayed him and let his heart take over. was it that obvious? he definitely didn't like you, he just resonated with your standards, that's it. or maybe it was a small crush, and something he didn't want to ponder a lot. he would get over it in about two weeks.

which obviously wasn't true. actually, his admiration grew stronger, but now not only honing on your mental capability, but also your physical features. you were exactly his type, he had to admit.

he could be planning something devious inside his mind, or imagining ways he could make the stupid militants shut up for once. but all it would take was a glance at those sweet eyes of yours, staring deeply right onto his, and that damned cute smile — which he learned to love hate — you give him when you both walk past each other in the halls, that his mind would completely fly elsewhere. all his deceitful schemes he spent so much time and effort coming up with late at night, now long forgotten. everything that occupied his mind being you.

before he could realize it, he was standing awkwardly on one of the halls for the hotel rooms. he was probably going to his own, until you showed up and flashed him a quick smile of sympathy, moving the opposite way from his and paying not too much mind.

it was such a simple activity, something he used to do with his colleagues on the real world, or even with strangers that were having a very nice day. yet his face felt like it was on fire, his heart about to leave his own body, and his legs couldn't work anymore. suddenly your voice was heard from behind, and he could only freeze completely.

"chishiya?" you sounded honest, a bit of worry present on your tone. "are you alright?"

shivers went down his spine as he, for once, didn't know what to say. typically, when someone has a crush, all they want to do is to spend time with them. but for some reason, all chishiya wanted you to do was get out of his way. perhaps it was due to the lack of care he received throughout his entire childhood, but he didn't like this feeling. being in love was terrifying.

but he guessed it had to happen someday. everyone falls in love, and it ended up being his turn. it wasn't something he was used to. love wasn't an exact thing, like maths or biology, that's based off of facts. it all depended. he couldn't predict the outcome by reading your body language or solving equations with an abacus. everything was subjective.

he took a deep breath and didn't move from his position, instead focusing on letting his voice come out as nonchalant as possible.

"mhm." he mumbled, immediately wanting to punch himself in the face.

he bit his lip in embarrassment. no one would ever answer someone with "mhm" after being asked about their doings, especially not him.

"are you sure?" you asked again, moving closer to him to check on his face.

as soon as he heard your steps, he started moving himself, his body betraying his heart. he tried hiding his face with the hood, as he walked slightly faster than you.

it didn't take long for you to notice he probably didn't want to talk, so instead you just stopped and watched his back move further and further from you.

"i'm..." he started, his face turning to the side to let you know he was speaking to you, his feet not stopping. "i'm getting something from my room. goodbye."

and with that you were left alone and confused on that same hall, after he made a turn at a corner and went who knows where. you had never seen chishiya this nervous, but didn't fret too much about it, instead planning on asking kuina what was going on later.

in truth, chishiya had rushed to his bedroom and closed himself inside with the key he created since locking doors wasn't allowed at the beach. his back stuck to the door, as he breathed in and out frantically. he had looked like an idiot and knowing he did it in front of you didn't help.

this was chishiya's first time being in love and according to his analysis, he hated it.