The warehouse fell silent except for Taichi's ragged breathing. His fists dripped crimson, knuckles split raw, his chest rising and falling like a beast fresh from battle.
Haruka Minami stood frozen in the doorway, her eyes wide with horror.
'This was the basketball ace? He didn't look like a star now. He looked like something unleashed.'
But then—
"Taichi!"
Yu tore from Haruka's arms the moment his ruby eyes caught him, all traces of fear forgotten. His ribbon was gone, his collar loose, his cheeks blotched with tears, but none of that mattered. He ran straight to Taichi.
Yu crashed against his chest, clutching at him with trembling hands.
"A-are you okay? Your hands—your hands—"
Taichi stiffened, arms hovering in the air for one long heartbeat. Then, slowly, he folded them around Yu, holding him with a gentleness that seemed impossible after what Haruka had just witnessed.
"I'm fine…"
Taichi muttered, though his voice was raw, scraped.
"You're the one I was worried about."
But then he jolted back, pulling his arms away as if burned. He looked down at the blood on his fists, smeared along his wrists, and cursed under his breath.
"I—don't touch me. I don't want you to—"
Yu didn't let him finish. He wrapped his arms tight around Taichi's waist, burying his face against him.
"I don't care."
Yu whispered fiercely, voice muffled.
"I don't care if your hands are bloody. You saved me. Please… please don't let go right now."
Taichi's throat worked, but his resistance crumbled. His arms closed fully around Yu again, trembling, protective, desperate.
"Let's go home…"
Yu whispered, still clutching him.
"I don't want to be here anymore."
Taichi drew in a breath, nodding against Yu's hair.
"Yeah. Home. Let's go."
Finally, he lifted his gaze to Haruka. His eyes were softer now, but his voice still carried weight.
"Thank you. For helping me find and looking after Yu when I couldn't."
Haruka swallowed hard, still shaken by the image of him moments ago—but when she looked at Yu's peaceful face pressed into Taichi's chest, she understood. She nodded silently.
With that, Taichi tightened his arm around Yu, his other hand clutching their schoolbag awkwardly against his wounded knuckles, and the two slipped out into the night. Their footsteps echoed faintly down the path—away from the blood, the fear, and the whispers soon to follow—heading back to the safety of their apartment, where no shadows could reach them.
---
The apartment door shut behind them with a soft click, muffling the night. For a long moment, neither moved. Yu's fingers were still locked into the fabric of Taichi's shirt, as though letting go would shatter everything.
Taichi guided him gently to the couch. He fumbled one-handed with the first-aid kit, trying not to smear blood anywhere, but Yu caught his wrists.
"Sit."
Yu whispered, voice trembling but firm.
"Let me."
Taichi sank down, obedient. His fists were a mess—skin torn open, bruises swelling beneath the red. Yu's hands shook as he dabbed at them with antiseptic wipes, tears dripping freely now.
"You hurt yourself because of me…"
Yu choked.
"If I hadn't been—if they hadn't—"
"Stop."
Taichi's voice cracked sharper than he meant, and Yu flinched. But then Taichi's head dropped, shoulders slumping.
"Stop blaming yourself. I was so damn scared, Yu. My chest still won't stop shaking from it. I thought—I thought if I didn't get there in time…"
His words dissolved into silence, and Yu stared, stunned. Taichi was trembling. His breath came uneven, his whole body rigid from holding everything in.
For some reason, that steadied Yu. If even Taichi—the second strongest person he knew, the first being his lord—was shaking, then it wasn't weakness that he was crying. It was just human.
Yu dropped the antiseptic, climbed right into Taichi's lap, and clung to him with all the strength he had.
"I'm here."
He whispered fiercely into his neck.
"I'm here, and I'm safe, because of you. Please don't tremble anymore."
But Taichi only wrapped him tighter, burying his face in Yu's hair.
"I can't help it. I was so afraid of losing you."
So they trembled together, clutching, refusing to let the other slip even an inch away. Eventually, exhaustion claimed them both. On the couch, under the dim glow of the lamp, Yu and Taichi drifted into sleep in each other's arms, tangled close, breaths slowly syncing.
---
By morning, the storm had already broken over the school.
Whispers hissed through the hallways.
"Did you hear? Taichi Arifuku beat up four upperclassmen—left them bleeding."
"I heard the janitor found them in a shed. What if they weren't found? Would they have bled to death?!"
"Monster."
"They said it was over Princess Yu. They were only helping her and then suddenly the Beast went off on them!"
"Makes sense—the Beast caging his Princess."
"No wonder Yu-chan never leaves his side. She probably can't."
Teachers whispered too, their praise from last term turned brittle. By noon, Taichi was dragged into the staff office. His punishment was swift: suspension from basketball for a month, a final disciplinary warning on his record. No one asked why his knuckles were bloodied—only why four other boys had ended up worse.
In the shadows of the council office, Isuke Sasaki smirked faintly, pen gliding across papers that would make sure this stain stuck. The narrative was perfect—clean, sharp.
The Beast and the Princess. But not a fairy tale of love. A story of fear.
Yu, the delicate princess trapped under the brute force of the beast, too timid to say no.
And all Isuke had to do was fan the flames, just enough, until Yu himself began to wonder if the whispers might be true.
However, it wouldn't be enough. Isuke prided himself on backup plans and those upperclassmen, while he failed his first plan, were still very much useful.
---
The infirmary smelled of antiseptic and sour defeat. Four upperclassmen sat in slumped silence, bruised and battered, their pride more wounded than their bodies.
The door creaked open.
Isuke Sasaki stepped inside, his presence calm but commanding. He looked utterly untouched by the chaos of the previous night, his uniform neat, his gaze sharp as glass.
"I heard…"
He began smoothly,
"That Taichi Arifuku lost control again."
One of the boys scoffed bitterly.
"Lost control? He nearly killed us!"
Isuke tilted his head, eyes narrowing.
"And yet, the teachers seem oddly reluctant to expel him. Curious, isn't it?"
The silence thickened. The boys exchanged looks.
"Why are you here?"
One finally asked.
"I'm here…"
Isuke said, voice quiet but precise,
"Because we share a common enemy and you four are still useful to me. Because you failed me, the Beast walks freely while you suffer the punishment of humiliation. But that can change, only if you actually follow my plans."
He placed a folder on the table. Inside: neatly written statements, already drafted. Testimonies twisted just enough. Words sharpened like knives.
"You'll tell the school board he attacked you unprovoked. That it was over jealousy. That he's holding Yu hostage in his… brutish way. The story's already out there—all it needs is confirmation."
A beat of silence. Then another boy sneered.
"And what's in it for us?"
Isuke's smile was cold, almost delicate.
"Money. Protection. Freedom from the Beast, of course. And the school won't turn its back on you. Stand with me, and I'll make sure justice is done. Stand against me…"
His eyes glittered dangerously.
"And you'll remain nothing but his victims."
The four boys stiffened. The silence of their shame deepened into something darker. Slowly, one by one, pens scratched across the papers.
Isuke stood, hands clasped behind his back. His shadow stretched long over them.
"Excellent. The story is set. Now,"
He murmured, his voice carrying the faintest edge of satisfaction,
"Let's see how the Princess handles watching his Beast be caged."
---
The late morning sun cut through the classroom blinds, warm and golden, but the air felt colder than ever.
Yu slipped into his seat quietly, bag clutched against his chest. For a moment, he almost believed he could pretend everything was normal. Until the whispers began.
"Did you hear? Arifuku beat up four upperclassmen—out of nowhere."
"No way. They say it was because of Yu-chan."
"Of course it was. He's got the Princess wrapped around his finger. Always having her give him water and food like a maid."
"Poor thing probably can't escape him."
"A princess trapped in the tower… except the dragon's the one holding her."
The words cut sharper than blades. Yu's shoulders trembled as he tried to focus on the textbook in front of him, but every syllable of gossip dug into his ears.
Across the aisle, Taichi sat hunched forward, jaw tight, eyes shadowed. He didn't speak. He didn't defend himself. He just simmered—his silence scarier than any roar.
"Hey!"
Fumiko Fujimori slammed her hands against her desk, the crack startling half the class into silence. Her voice rang sharp, like a whip.
"Don't you people have better things to do than spread lies?"
Sakura Sato leaned back casually, flipping her hair, her smile razor-edged.
"Honestly, it's pathetic. You're all so bored with your own lives you cling to a fairytale. Beast, princess—what is this, a storybook? Yu isn't trapped. She chose Taichi."
Gasps, murmurs. Yu's heart stuttered.
"But—"
One boy stammered.
"We saw him—he attacked them."
"Yeah and weren't you two the first to—"
Souma Satou and Yamato Yamada, usually the clowns of the group, rose to their feet in unison. Souma's grin was gone. Yamato's voice was low and deadly.
"Careful. Say one more word, and you'll be next."
A hush fell.
Yu, flustered and pale, shook his head quickly.
"P-please, it's fine, don't fight…"
But the damage was done. The room buzzed with tension, fear, and fascination. Eyes darted to Taichi, to Yu, to the invisible chain that bound them together in rumor and reality.
Taichi finally lifted his head. His gaze swept across the classroom, slow and heavy, until every whisper died. His fists curled on his desk.
Then—silence.
Yu swallowed hard, heart pounding. He wanted to tell them all the truth. He wanted to hide under his desk forever. He wanted Taichi to say something, anything.
Instead, Taichi leaned back, eyes closed, like he'd rather suffocate than speak.
And Yu realized: silence could be just as terrifying as words.
---
The bell finally rang, and the room burst into motion—desks scraping, chatter resuming, footsteps rushing for the door. But Yu and Taichi didn't move.
Yu sat stiff at his desk, watching the stream of classmates flow out like a tide, leaving the air behind heavier, stickier. His hands clenched around his notebook, white-knuckled.
When the last student left, the door clicked shut, sealing them in silence.
Yu risked a glance at Taichi. He still hadn't moved—arms folded, jaw clenched, eyes fixed on some point past the window. The picture of restraint… or a storm barely held back.
"…Taichi?"
Yu's voice was small.
No answer.
Yu stood slowly, walking toward him, every step making his heart pound louder.
"You didn't… do anything wrong."
His throat tightened.
"You were just protecting me."
That made Taichi finally look at him. His eyes burned, not with anger—but with something heavier, darker. He exhaled sharply.
"Doesn't matter. To them, I'm just the Beast. Always have been. Always will be."
Yu shook his head, a little desperately.
"No! You're not—"
He stopped, lips trembling.
"You're my Taichi. And I know… I know what you did was because of me. But I don't regret being with you. Because I feel safest when I'm with you."
Taichi's fists unclenched slowly, bloodied knuckles still raw beneath the bandages from last night. His shoulders dropped.
"…You shouldn't have to hear those things."
Yu stepped closer, clutching the edge of Taichi's sleeve.
"…Then don't let them get between us."
Taichi blinked at him, caught off guard.
"I don't care what they say."
Yu's voice was firmer now, though his eyes glistened.
"Rumors, lies, names… it hurts, yes, but what scares me more is when you pull away. When you go quiet. I'd rather the whole school hate me if it means I can stay beside you."
For a long beat, Taichi just stared, chest rising and falling unevenly.
Then, with a sharp breath, he tugged Yu against him, holding him so tight it almost hurt.
"...You dummy…"
He muttered into Yu's hair.
"You really don't get how much I was scared too, do you?"
Yu's arms wrapped around his waist, squeezing back just as tightly.
"…Then let's be scared together."
Outside the door, muffled footsteps and laughter passed by—but in that quiet classroom, it was just them.
Just Yu and Taichi, clinging to each other against the weight of the world.
---
The afternoon sun bled gold across the pavement, long shadows stretching as Yu and Taichi walked side by side. The city was noisy in that distant, comforting way—cars humming by, cicadas lingering in the trees, kids running ahead with bookbags swinging.
Yu held his strap loosely, letting it bump against his hip, but his free hand clung stubbornly to Taichi's sleeve. Not his hand—he didn't dare that in public, not with the rumors clawing through the school—but the steady warmth of Taichi's arm was enough to ground him.
Taichi noticed, of course. He always noticed. Without a word, he shifted his bag to the opposite side and let his arm dangle closer. Yu hesitated, heart thudding, then slid his fingers down until they slipped into Taichi's palm.
The Beast squeezed back, quiet but unyielding.
Neither said much. The silence between them wasn't heavy like the classroom—it was soft, almost fragile, the kind that meant everything had already been said. Yu found himself stealing glances at Taichi's profile: the sharp jawline, the bruised knuckles hidden in bandages, the faint crease in his brow. Dangerous. Beautiful. His.
When they reached the familiar turn toward their apartment, Yu finally whispered.
"…Thank you. For not letting go back there."
Taichi's gaze softened, rare and raw.
"Dummy."
He muttered again—but there was no bite in it. Just relief. Just love.
Yu smiled faintly, cheeks warming, and leaned into him as they disappeared into the evening haze together.
---
From the second-story window of a quiet café near the school grounds, Isuke Sasaki sat with a cooling cup of coffee untouched in front of him.
He had followed at a distance, watching their silhouettes cross the street, watching the way Yu clung to Taichi's arm like it was his lifeline. The way Taichi bent down ever so slightly, guarding him without even realizing it.
Every time. Every damn time.
Isuke's jaw tightened, teeth grinding as he lowered his gaze, fingers drumming against the porcelain cup. He had set everything perfectly. The rumor. The warehouse. The savior's role that should have been his. And yet—Taichi always stole it, always turned disaster into another excuse to grow closer with Yu.
"…He doesn't deserve you."
He whispered under his breath, so soft even he could barely hear it.
The coffee had long gone cold, but the heat in his chest only sharpened.
If fate wouldn't hand Yu to him, then he would carve a path himself.
Whatever it took.
The streets were almost empty by the time the pair reached the corner near Yu's studio. The amber streetlights washed everything in a tired glow, the city's hum soft and low.
From across the street, half-hidden by the shadow of a vending machine, Isuke watched as he continued to stalk—hands in his pockets, shoulders drawn in tight.
Yu was laughing at something Taichi said, his head tipped slightly, his white hair catching the glow like spun glass. Taichi leaned closer, murmured something else that made Yu roll his eyes, but the smile stayed. Then, without hesitation, Taichi lifted their interlocking hands and kissed Yu's hand.
The gesture was simple. Warm. Ordinary.
And it pierced Isuke clean through.
He stayed there until they reached the narrow stairwell that led to Yu's apartment. He didn't move when Taichi lingered at the door, or when Yu turned, laughing again, and pointed towards the corner store before disappearing inside. Taichi hesitated a moment longer, staring at the closed door, then finally walked away in the same direction Yu pointed towards.
Only then did Isuke exhale.
He waited another five minutes, watching for movement through the thin curtain of the window above. When he saw the faint flicker of light—Yu's shadow moving about, probably setting his bag down, maybe boiling water for tea—only then did Isuke turn away and start walking home.
---
His apartment was smaller than Yu's. Too neat. Too quiet.
He stepped inside, flicked on the light. The walls were white, bare, and the air smelled faintly of cleaning alcohol. Everything was in its place: the folded laundry, the sparse bookshelf, the single mug turned upside-down on the counter. It was a space that didn't look lived in—only endured.
Isuke stood in the doorway for a long moment, letting the silence stretch.
Then he sank onto the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor.
His mother's laugh echoed faintly in memory—soft and warm, the sound of a pan sizzling and the smell of rice filling the air. She'd always hum when she cooked. And when he closed his eyes, he could almost see Yu in her place—wearing one of those loose white shirts, sleeves rolled, humming something under his breath as he stirred a pot.
It was such an ordinary image. It made Isuke's chest hurt.
He pressed a hand against his sternum as if he could push the ache back down.
Yu had a way of filling spaces just by being in them—bringing warmth, life, softness where there was none. And now, sitting alone in his sterile apartment, Isuke could almost see the difference between them: Yu's home glowed with something alive. His didn't.
And somehow, that realization made his longing worse.
"…Yu."
He murmured under his breath. The sound was almost reverent. Almost desperate.
He leaned back against the wall and shut his eyes, letting the ache settle deep into him—something between love, obsession, and grief.
Outside, the city lights flickered, painting faint lines of gold across his floor. But nothing inside the room changed. It stayed still. Cold. Waiting.
After a while, Isuke Sasaki moved to sit at his desk, the lamplight casting sharp shadows across neat stacks of papers and carefully folded notes. But it wasn't homework that occupied him—spread across the desk were scribbled timelines, overheard whispers, fragments of gossip he'd carefully tended like embers.
The upperclassmen he'd met were already whispering the story he wanted: that Taichi Arifukua was unhinged, that Yu was too sweet, too naïve, trapped by the Beast's possessive grip. The bruised knuckles, the silence in class, the way Yu clung to Taichi—it all played into the tale.
But it wasn't enough.
He needed more than rumors. He needed Yu to look at Taichi and see chains instead of protection. He needed Yu to turn to him, even if it was just in desperation.
His eyes narrowed, a cold gleam flickering there as he wrote in a clean, elegant script:
Halloween. Masks. Crowds. A perfect stage.
If the Beast thrived in the shadows, then Isuke would drag him into the light and twist every glance, every whisper into poison.
Isuke leaned back, steepling his fingers as the plan crystallized in his mind. The city might celebrate in warmth and revelry—but he would turn the night into another thread in his web.
---
The scene at their apartment was the opposite of schemes and shadows.
Yu sat cross-legged on the floor with a notebook open, doodling tiny pumpkins and cats around the edges as Taichi came out of the kitchen, after returning from the convenience store, carrying two steaming mugs of cocoa. The faint smell of cinnamon drifted between them.
Taichi set one in front of Yu, ruffling his hair gently before sitting beside him. Yu leaned into the touch, cheeks flushing just enough to warm him more than the cocoa could.
Their group chat buzzed on Yu's phone, lit up with Fumiko Fujimori's bold suggestion.
Fumiko: 🎃 Halloween get-together! 👻 At my place! But nothing scary, Yu's been through enough!❤️🩹😤
Yu hesitated, eyes flicking up at Taichi.
"…Should I tell them?"
Taichi's expression softened instantly. He set his mug down and touched Yu's hand.
"If you want. You don't have to."
Yu nodded slowly. His throat felt tight, but he opened the chat and typed, fingers trembling.
Yu: About Taichi's fight with the upperclassmens… I should tell you what happened.
The words spilled out in simple sentences—how he was locked inside, how those boys cornered him, how Taichi saved him.
The chat went silent for a long time. Then, one by one, messages rolled in.
Sakura Sato: 😱😱😱 Yu-chan… 😢 I'm so sorry. Like I swear if anyone tries that again, they'll answer to me.😤😡💢💥🤛
Fumiko Fujimori: 💔 I KNEW something was wrong.💔 Don't you worry, we've got your back now. ❤️🔥❤️🔥 And Taichi? You were right to protect her. No apologies. 🤬🤬🤬🤬
Souma Satou: Those guys should've been expelled. Unforgivable.
Yamato Yamada: We'll watch out for you too, Yu-chan. Always.
Yu's eyes stung, and he pressed his face into Taichi's shoulder, whispering,
"…They don't hate me."
Taichi's arms wrapped around him, firm and safe.
"Of course not, baby. They love you."
Yu smiled against his shirt.
Plans soon unfolded in the chat—costumes, snacks, gentle fun. No haunted houses, no jump scares. Just warmth and laughter. The kind of celebration Yu could feel safe in.
Taichi tilted Yu's chin up with a finger, his gaze deep and protective.
"See? You're not alone. And this year, Halloween's ours. No one's touching you again."
Yu nodded, ruby eyes glimmering. For the first time in days, he felt the shadows recede, replaced with flickering lantern-light, the promise of something brighter.