The loft was bathed in a charged silence. Outside, rumors were taking shape. The news channels were on repeat, journalists camped at the building's entrance, social media screamed about decadence.
But inside... Aru and Kio were alone. Sitting across from each other at the rough wooden table, two cups of steaming coffee between them. No kisses, no gestures. Just this tension. This contained strength.
The calm that follows a storm, but which heralds a war.
"My father blocked all my access to the family fund," Kio said.
"I'll have to restructure the company starting Monday."
"Do you regret it?" Kio looked up slowly.
He was tired, yes. Thin, even. But not broken.
"I fell in love with you, Aru. There's nothing to regret in that."
A silence.
"And you? You'll lose your contract with Yukai Corp if you stay with me." Aru shrugged.
"You think that scares me? I've never had so much clarity as since I chose you."
They looked at each other for a long time. A naked gaze, without artifice, without defense.
"Then we have to fight back," Kio murmured.
"Yes. But not like them. Not with hatred. Not with fear." Aru leaned toward him
her fingers brushing Kio's on the table.
"We're going to create a space. A platform. For alphas like us. The ones we force to live in the shadows." Kio smiled.
A rare smile. Tired, but burning.
"Do you want to revolutionize the world, Aru?"
"No. I want us to be able to love each other without having to ask for forgiveness."
A courtly silence. Then Kio stood up, moved closer, and kissed her slowly, her hands on her face. Not passionately this time. With trust. With gratitude. That night, they didn't make love.
They worked. Screen on. Action plan. Budget. Communication. Security. Two alphas, united by the forbidden, forgot something that night their enemies hadn't foreseen: a future.
Together. And when they fell asleep at dawn, side by side on the couch, it was no longer in flight. It was in creation.
It was 9:00 a.m. sharp when the giant screen of Tokyo's MediaWall lit up, capturing the attention of thousands of passersby. In offices, living rooms, subways, on social media, the notification spread like a shockwave: Joint Declaration by Kio Renka and Aru Sagan.
The whole world held its breath. The image was sober. Aru and Kio, standing side by side in a refined setting. Black suit for one, open white shirt for the other. Opposition, tension—but also an assumed union. Kio was the first to speak. His voice, firm, resonated.
"My name is Kio Renka. CEO of Renka.
Industries. Alpha. Free man. "
He turned his head slightly toward Aru, then back to the camera.
"I'm in a relationship with another alpha. And I'm not ashamed." Aru spoke.
His tone was calmer, but sharp, almost poetic.
"In a world that advocates strength, we've forgotten that strength also means loving who you want. Being who you are. And facing fire without giving up."
Kio reprint.
"Today we're announcing the launch of NOX, a foundation for marginalized alphas: those who don't conform to imposed social, sexual, or familial norms."
"This isn't a provocation. It's a necessity," Aru added.
"Because an alpha isn't a machine. He's not a caste. He's a human being. And humanity has never been a straight line."
They looked at each other. Then, together:
"We won't apologize."
The screen was black. For a full minute, silence weighed on Tokyo. Then the reactions exploded. Some screamed. The traditionalist leagues cried blasphemy.
Members of parliament called for sanctions. The TV debates were already underway. But there was something else. A more subterranean rumor. Deeper. Anonymous alphas began to publish.
Testimonies. Photos. Confessions. "I'm an alpha and I love another alpha." "Me too." "Thank you." Kio and Aru stayed indoors all day. Connected. Observing the wave. Calculating the risks. But deep down, a weight had lifted.
They were no longer fleeing. They were creating. When evening came, lying in the darkness of the loft, Aru turned to Kio.
"You know this is only just beginning."
Kio nodded, his hand searching for hers in the bed.
"Yes. But this time, we're moving forward together."
And in that silence… they finally fell asleep like two men standing up. He was crying outside. A soft, steady, almost soothing rain. Aru stared at the ceiling, lying on the bed, breathing calmly.
His bare torso rose slowly, barely covered by the pale linen sheet. There were no more alerts on the phone, no more knowing voices. Just that rare, almost unreal calm in which their world echoed when they were alone. Kio came out of the bathroom. He was wearing only black cotton pants, his still damp hair falling down his front.
He approached the bed, sank down onto it without a word. No need. He turned to Aru and gently slid a hand down his side.
"What are you thinking about?" he murmured.
Aru turned her head toward him, and her gaze softened.
"Yours. Ours. About the fact that I could stay in this bed my whole life, if you look at me like that."
Kio leaned slowly toward him. Their noses brushed. Then their lips. A kiss that was soft at first, almost timid, then more pressing, more hungry. Their bodies met without hesitation.
Not in the urgency of raw desire, but in the gravity of two men who had lost too much to no longer cherish what they finally held between their bras. Aru rocked on top of him, his hands slowly exploring Kio's skin, as if redrawing his place in the world. He kissed his neck, his shoulders, his chest.
Each gesture was a silent word: I'm here, I'm not running away, I choose you, again, again, again. Kio closed his eyes and let it happen. For once, he didn't have to control anything. He could only feel.
The sheets wrinkled, their breaths came in shorter gasps. They slowly united, skin against skin, in the intimate dance they had come to know, to refine. Not to prove. Not to dominate. Just to tell themselves they still existed. That they held each other. Really. When all was silence, their bodies still tangled, Kio whispered against Aru's temple,
"I've never let anyone touch me like you." Aru answered without moving, her voice hoarse with emotion,
"It's because I don't want to take anything. I just want... to be with you."
They stayed like that for a long time. Listening to each other breathe. Feeling the beating of their hearts. As if, in this bed, in this night, there was no more war. No more hatred. No outside. Only them. And that was enough.