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velting · 7 months ago

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Blood Lock

CHAPTER 3

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⚠️WARING⚠️: THIS CHAPTER HAS SOME NOT SAFE CONENT! PLEASE READ WITH YOUR OWN CAUTION!! IF YOU DON'T ENJOY IT! THEN PLEASE SKIP IF IT MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED EVERYONE!

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

The crisp air of the field filled [Name]’s lungs as she stepped out of the changing rooms, adjusting her gym uniform and glancing around. The bright sun overhead cast long shadows on the well-kept track, where other students were already gathering. Luckily, she wasn’t completely alone—Meguru and Nijiro had managed to end up in the same Physical Education class as her. Their presence was a small comfort in an otherwise unfamiliar crowd.

Meguru stretched dramatically, leaning far to one side and then the other, his bright grin already plastered across his face. “[Name]-chan, bet I can outrun you!”

[Name] smirked, placing her hands on her hips. “Oh, you’re on, Bachira-san. But don’t cry when I leave you in the dust.”

Nijiro, standing beside them, let out a small chuckle. “Don’t get too confident, [Name]-san. Bachira’s got energy for days.”

“Trust me, Yo-kun already calls me a tree-climbing monkey,” [Name] retorted, rolling her shoulders. “I can handle a little running.”

Before their banter could go any further, a sharp whistle cut through the air, commanding attention. The students turned toward the source of the sound as a tall, imposing figure strode onto the track. Noel Noa.

Noa’s presence was as sharp as the whistle he carried. His white hair gleamed under the sunlight, his piercing yellow eyes sweeping over the students with the kind of authority that demanded respect without a word. Clad in the signature tracksuit, he radiated an aura of precision and discipline.

“Line up,” Noa commanded, his voice calm but firm.

The students obeyed, falling into neat rows. [Name] found herself between Meguru, who was still grinning like a fool, and Nijiro, who was standing straighter than she’d ever seen.

Noa began pacing slowly in front of the line, his sharp gaze studying them like pieces on a chessboard. “Physical Education is not just about fitness,” he began, his deep voice carrying easily across the field. “It’s about discipline, consistency, and mental endurance. Out here, you prove your worth—not to me, not to your peers, but to yourselves.”

[Name] swallowed, feeling the weight of his words settle over the group. Noa’s seriousness was a stark contrast to Meguru’s usual lightheartedness, but even he seemed to straighten up under the coach’s gaze.

“We’ll begin with stretches,” Noa continued. “Loosen up your muscles. Then, you’ll run the track. No slacking. I want to see effort from every single one of you.”

The students scattered slightly, finding space to begin their stretches. [Name] bent forward, touching her toes with ease, her natural flexibility making the movement effortless. Beside her, Meguru was already flopping around like a fish, clearly more focused on entertaining himself than stretching properly.

“You’re going to pull something,” Nijiro chided lightly, his Kansai accent slipping into his words as he watched Meguru with mild amusement.

“I’m built different,” Meguru replied, sticking his tongue out.

[Name] couldn’t help but laugh, shaking her head as she moved into a side stretch. Despite the rigorous atmosphere Noa created, her friends made it easier to relax.

Once the stretching was complete, Noa blew his whistle again, signaling the start of their run.

“Four laps,” he announced. “Pace yourselves. If you collapse halfway through, you’ll only embarrass yourselves.”

[Name] took off at a steady jog, her long legs carrying her easily around the track. The rhythm of her breathing synced with the thud of her sneakers against the ground, the wind tugging at her low twin-tails. Beside her, Meguru had already surged ahead, his boundless energy propelling him forward like an overexcited puppy. Nijiro kept a steady pace slightly behind her, his expression focused.

“You’re doing great, [Name]-chan!” Meguru called out over his shoulder, his grin as wide as ever.

“You’re going to burn out at that pace!” she shot back, though she couldn’t help smiling.

Halfway through the first lap, [Name] noticed other students beginning to pass her, their strides long and purposeful. The rhythmic sound of sneakers pounding the track filled the air as [Name] settled into a steady pace. The sun bore down on the runners, but the mild breeze kept the heat manageable. She was running comfortably alongside Meguru and Nijiro, the two boys chatting intermittently as they moved.

Ahead of them, however, was a spectacle [Name] couldn't quite believe. Two runners were neck and neck, moving with such speed that they seemed almost inhuman.

[Name] squinted, focusing on the streaks of color flashing before her eyes. One had long reddish-pink hair that fluttered like a banner behind him, his movements fluid and precise. The other had dark, spiky hair and sharp silver eyes that glinted as he surged forward, his focus unyielding.

“Are those...people?” [Name] asked, slightly breathless, her gaze glued to the two sprinters.

Meguru chuckled, not even remotely winded. “Oh, those two? That’s Chigiri Hyoma and Zantetsu Tsurugi. Fastest guys in Blue Lock. You’ll get used to them.”

“Used to them?” [Name] echoed, incredulous. “They’re moving like they’re not even human!”

Nijiro, keeping pace just behind her, laughed softly. “That’s pretty normal for them. Chigiri’s basically built for speed—he calls himself the ‘chosen one.’ And Zantetsu? Well, he’s got the legs of a sprinter but...uh, let’s just say his brain doesn’t always match his speed.”

Meguru nodded vigorously. “Yeah, Baka Zantetsu might trip over his own thoughts, but when it comes to running, he’s a rocket.”

Up ahead, Hyoma shot a smirk at Zantetsu, his pink eyes glittering with competitive glee. “Face it, Zantetsu, you’re not catching me,” he taunted, his voice smooth and confident.

Zantetsu growled in frustration, his silver eyes narrowing. “D-Don’t underestimate me! A-and—uh—what’s that phrase? The turtle wins the race?”

Hyoma burst into laughter, effortlessly maintaining his blistering pace. “You mean the hare and the tortoise? You’re the one who needs to slow down and think.”

“Tch!” Zantetsu gritted his teeth, his determination only fueling his speed. “Say what you want, but I’m not losing to you!”

Their legs were a blur, propelling them forward with astonishing force. The other students watched in awe, their heads swiveling as the two speedsters zipped past.

Back in the middle of the pack, [Name] was still marveling at the display. “How is that even possible? They’re practically flying!”

“They’ve been like that since day one,” Nijiro explained. “Chigiri’s speed comes from his insane muscle strength and agility. And Zantetsu...well, he’s just stubborn. The guy’s not much for strategy, but he’ll run circles around anyone.”

“Except me!” Meguru piped up, grinning.

[Name] shook her head, a smile tugging at her lips despite herself. The sight of Hyoma and Zantetsu battling it out on the track was nothing short of exhilarating. It was as if their competitive spirits had manifested into raw speed, pushing each other to go faster and faster.

As they reached the halfway point of the track, [Name] noticed Hyoma glance over his shoulder, his pink eyes landing on her briefly before darting back to the track. He raised an eyebrow, as if silently acknowledging her presence, before surging ahead again.

“Did he just look at me?” [Name] asked, blinking in surprise.

Nijiro gave her a knowing smile. “Chigiri doesn’t miss much. If he noticed you, that means you’ve caught his attention.”

“Well, great,” [Name] muttered, shaking her head. “First all the guys in my period and now Chigiri. What’s with all the stares today?”

“Must be your charm, [Name]-chan!” Meguru teased, giving her a playful nudge.

“Or maybe I’m just too slow to escape their notice,” [Name] quipped, picking up her pace slightly.

As they rounded the corner, the competition between Hyoma and Zantetsu continued to burn bright, their determination lighting up the field. [Name] couldn’t help but feel a surge of inspiration watching them, their relentless drive sparking something deep within her.

‘If this is the level I’m surrounded by, then I guess I’d better step up,’ she thought, her steps growing a little more determined as she chased after the echoes of their speed.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

[Name] grabbed her water bottle, her thoughts still lingering on the incredible display of speed she had just witnessed. The urge to talk to the two sprinters grew stronger with every step she took toward them, curiosity and admiration sparking in her eyes.

Hyoma sat on a nearby bench, carefully applying cream to his knee, his long pink hair pulled into a loose braid over one shoulder. His focused expression softened slightly when he noticed her approaching. Beside him, Zantetsu was leaning against a post, furiously wiping sweat off his face with a towel, his cheeks faintly flushed.

“Hey,” [Name] began, her voice carrying a mix of awe and friendliness. “You two were amazing out there. It’s like you’re on another level entirely!”

Hyoma glanced up, his deep pink eyes meeting hers. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, his expression unreadable, but there was a flicker of intrigue in his gaze. Finally, he smiled faintly, his voice calm but tinged with confidence. “Thanks. I guess you’re not used to seeing speed like that, huh?”

“Not even close,” [Name] admitted, laughing lightly. “It was insane. I couldn’t stop watching. Do you guys train for that, or were you just born this way?”

Hyoma smirked, a flicker of his old self-assuredness flashing through. “A little of both. Natural talent gets you far, but discipline takes you farther.” He nodded toward his knee as he continued applying the cream. “Though it doesn’t come without risks. Speed like this takes its toll.”

[Name]’s gaze softened. “Does it still hurt?”

“Not much anymore,” he replied. “It’s more about maintenance now. But thanks for asking.”

Meanwhile, Zantetsu was standing rigid, his silver eyes darting between [Name] and Hyoma. His usual composure seemed to falter, and the blush on his cheeks deepened as he struggled to find the right words. Finally, he cleared his throat, adjusting his fake glasses in an attempt to look cool.

“So, uh…” Zantetsu began, his voice wavering slightly. “Y-you’ve got—uh—legs. Long legs! They’re, uh…really...efficient? Like a cheetah's?”

[Name] froze, blinking in surprise before bursting out into a fit of laughter. The awkwardness of the comment, combined with Zantetsu’s mortified expression, was too much to handle. “Efficient legs? Really?” she teased, clutching her stomach.

Zantetsu’s blush deepened, and he groaned, slapping a hand over his face. “T-that’s not what I meant! Ugh, stupid! I—I mean they look like…like they’d be good for running or something!”

“It’s okay, Zantetsu,” [Name] managed between giggles. “I know what you were trying to say. Thanks for the compliment...I think?”

Hyoma chuckled softly, shaking his head as he finished with his knee. “Smooth as ever, Zantetsu.”

Zantetsu shot him a glare, crossing his arms defensively. “Hey, I was trying to be polite! Not everyone’s a walking ego like you, Chigiri!”

“Uh-huh,” Chigiri replied, his tone dripping with amusement.

[Name] smiled warmly, finding their dynamic both amusing and endearing. “You two really are something else,” she said, taking a sip from her water bottle. “Thanks for letting me watch you guys up close. You’ve definitely set the bar pretty high.”

Hyoma tilted his head slightly, his pink eyes narrowing with curiosity. “And what about you? You’re not bad on the track yourself. You’ve got potential.”

[Name] felt her cheeks flush faintly at the compliment. “Oh, I don’t think I’m anywhere near your level. But...I guess I’ll keep pushing myself to improve.”

Zantetsu, still flustered but determined to redeem himself, straightened up. “If you need a running partner, I’m your guy! I mean—uh—you know, for practice or whatever!”

[Name] laughed again, her bright smile lighting up her face. “I’ll keep that in mind, Zantetsu. Thanks.”

As the whistle blew, signaling the end of the break, Hyoma stood gracefully, brushing his hair over his shoulder. “Guess we’ll see if you can keep up, [Name].”

Zantetsu nodded eagerly, his silver eyes shining. “Yeah, let’s see what you’ve got!”

[Name] grinned, feeling both challenged and encouraged by their words. “Alright, but don’t blame me if I surprise you.”

As the three of them returned to the field, [Name] couldn’t help but feel a spark of excitement. The bar might have been set high, but she was determined to rise to the occasion.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

The line shuffled forward as the students tested their grip strength one by one, the buzzing sound of the electronic hand grip strength tester filling the air each time someone gave it their all. [Name] stood between Nijiro and Meguru, her hands lightly fidgeting in anticipation. Their small bet added an extra layer of tension to the activity, making it feel less like routine classwork and more like a mini-competition.

Nijiro turned to her, a warm grin on his face. “So, how confident are you in your grip strength, [Name]? I don’t want to be the one buying drinks, but, uh, no pressure or anything.”

[Name] laughed softly, adjusting her glasses. “I think I’ll be fine. I mean, I climb trees for fun, so that’s gotta count for something, right?”

Meguru leaned forward from behind her, his yellow eyes gleaming with mischief. “Ohhh, tree-climbing, huh? Guess that makes you like a little squirrel. But I’ve got monkey hands, so good luck beating me, [Name]!”

She shot him a playful glare. “Squirrel? Really? Fine, we’ll see who’s laughing when you’re the one buying drinks.”

As their friendly banter continued, Noa called the next name. “Kento Cho.”

The dark-haired student stepped forward, calm and composed as he approached the device. His movements were measured, almost methodical, as he positioned his hand on the tester. The room quieted slightly as the grip strength meter beeped to life.

With a firm squeeze, Kento’s number shot up, and Noa’s brow raised slightly as he read the result aloud. “61 kilograms. Good.”

Kento nodded quietly, stepping aside with a serene expression, his demeanor as collected as ever. His friend, Nio Kazuma, clapped him on the back, his confident smirk already in place.

“Not bad, Kento,” Nio said, stepping forward. “But watch and learn how it’s done.”

Nio exuded a cocky charm as he grabbed the tester, his slicked-back hair glinting in the sunlight streaming through the gym windows. The room buzzed with anticipation as he gripped the device with a dramatic flair, his goatee twitching as he grinned.

When the tester beeped again, Noa glanced at the screen and announced, “67 kilograms. Impressive.”

Nio pumped his fist, turning to high-five Kento with a triumphant laugh. “Told ya, man! Nobody’s beating me today.”

The trio of [Name], Nijiro, and Meguru’s exchanged wide-eyed looks.

“Whoa,” Nijiro muttered, scratching the back of his neck. “Those two are insane. I don’t even know if I can get close to that.”

Meguru tilted his head, his usual grin faltering slightly. “Yeah, but… I mean, they’re probably, like, gym freaks or something, right? Right?”

[Name] chuckled nervously, watching as the line shortened and the electronic grip strength tester beeped with each attempt. She adjusted her glasses, glancing at Nijiro , who stood just ahead of her. “Guess we’ll find out soon enough who’s buying drinks,” she teased, though a competitive edge crept into her voice.

Nijiro grinned, his Kansai dialect slipping through in his response. “I don’t mind treatin’ you both, but I’m not gonna go down without a fight.”

Behind her, Meguru leaned forward, his usual cheeky grin plastered across his face. “I bet I’ll surprise you both. Don’t let these monkey hands fool you!”

Noa called out the next name, and Nijiro stepped forward with a mix of determination and nerves. “Nanase Nijiro.”

He grabbed the device, his fingers wrapping tightly around the handles. Taking a deep breath, he squeezed hard, his knuckles whitening from the effort. The tester beeped, and Noa checked the number.

“54 kilograms. Not bad,” the coach remarked, jotting it down on his clipboard.

Nijiro turned back to [Name] and Meguru, holding his head high with a sheepish grin. “Well, it’s not gonna break records, but it’s respectable, right?”

“Better than I expected,” [Name] said with a smile. “Alright, my turn!”

As her name was called, she approached the tester with calm confidence. She positioned her hands on the grips, her fingers firm but relaxed. Taking a moment to focus, she applied pressure, her grip tightening until the device beeped.

“56 kilograms,” Noa announced.

[Name] stepped back with a triumphant grin, adjusting her glasses. “Guess tree-climbing and basketball do pay off.”

Meguru pouted dramatically, stepping forward when his name was called. “Oh, come on! Two points ahead? You’re just lucky.”

As he gripped the device, his playful smirk turned into intense concentration. He squeezed with all his might, his arms trembling slightly as the device registered his effort.

“53 kilograms,” Noa said.

Meguru’s shoulders slumped, and he turned back to [Name] and Nijiro with a comical look of defeat. “Nooo! The monkey lost!”

[Name] laughed, shaking her head. “Looks like drinks are on you, Bachira.”

“Fine, fine,” he groaned, though a grin quickly returned to his face. “But don’t expect anything fancy. You’re getting the cheap stuff.”

Their playful banter was interrupted by a familiar voice chiming in. “Cheap stuff, huh?” Zantetsu Tsurugi sauntered over, his silver eyes glinting as he pushed up his fake glasses. “You know, a real gentleman would offer premium drinks. Isn’t that right?”

Meguru raised an eyebrow. “Zantetsu, I don’t think you even know what ‘premium’ means.”

Zantetsu huffed, crossing his arms. “Of course I do! It’s, uh, the opposite of… budget. Right?”

Nijiro chuckled, shaking his head. “Close enough, genius.”

[Name] smiled warmly, appreciating Zantetsu’s attempts to keep up the “smart and cool” act despite his occasional missteps. “Don’t worry, Zantetsu. It’s the thought that counts.”

Zantetsu blushed slightly but quickly regained his composure. “Well, of course! I aim to impress.”

Their conversation continued until Noa called the final name on the list, his voice cutting through the chatter like a sharp whistle. “Barou Shoei.”

The gym fell silent as the tall, muscular Barou stepped forward. His long black hair, streaked with crimson highlights, seemed to gleam under the gym’s fluorescent lights. His red eyes scanned the room with a commanding intensity, and his imposing aura made the other students instinctively step back.

Barou grabbed the grip strength tester without a word, his face stoic and focused. As he squeezed the device, the air seemed to grow heavier with tension. The electronic screen blinked furiously as the numbers climbed higher and higher until the device beeped loudly.

“80 kilograms,” Noa announced, his usually calm tone carrying a hint of surprise.

The class erupted in gasps and murmurs, the sheer power of Barou’s grip leaving everyone stunned.

Nijiro blinked, incredulous. “Eighty? That’s… not human.”

[Name] adjusted her glasses, staring at Barou in awe. “Wow… I didn’t think that was even possible.”

Meguru, still nursing his loss, pouted dramatically. “Great, now I feel even weaker.”

Nio Kazuma, standing nearby, crossed his arms and scoffed. “Tch. Show-off. He probably crushes walnuts for fun.”

Barou turned his crimson gaze toward Nio, a virtuous glare at the corner of his vision. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you, peasant.”

The sharp remark silenced Nio, though his irritated expression remained.

As Barou walked away, his presence lingered, casting an imposing shadow over the rest of the gym. The four of them. [Name], Nijiro, Zantetsu and Meguru exchanged wide-eyed looks before bursting into laughter at the absurdity of the situation.

“Guess he’s the king of grip strength,” [Name] jokes.

Meguru grinned, shaking his head. “Yeah, but he can’t beat me at Uno!”

“True,” Nijiro added with a laugh. “Not even Barou can win at everything.”

The group’s lighthearted chatter carried them through the rest of the class, their bond growing stronger with each moment shared.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

“Seeya around!” [Name] waved at the boys she made friends with all three waving at her with phones in their hands to text when they were available to them as they parted ways. She walked down the hall to her next class, until she realized that her class was a little farther then where she is. Panic begins to rise up as she quickly bolts down the hall.

The hallways echoed with the sound of [Name]'s hurried footsteps as she sprinted toward her AP English class. Her breath came in short bursts, her heart pounding as the reality of being late on her first day hit her hard.

"I can’t be late—I just can’t!" she muttered to herself, panic rising as she struggled to navigate the seemingly endless corridors. The emptiness of the hallways only amplified her anxiety, and when the bell finally rang, her stomach sank.

Skidding to a stop in front of the classroom door, she took a moment to compose herself, smoothing her hair and adjusting her glasses. ‘You can do this, [Name]. Just sneak in quietly.’

She carefully pushed the door open, trying to minimize the creak as she stepped into the room. The murmurs of the class quieted as all eyes turned toward her. She froze mid-step, her eyes meeting the piercing gaze of her AP English teacher, Adam Blake.

“Ah, Miss…?” Blake’s deep, authoritative voice filled the room, his brow furrowing as he leaned back against his desk. His sarcastic tone cut through the tension like a knife. “[Name], is it? So glad you decided to grace us with your presence. How thoughtful of you to join us—albeit fashionably late.”

A wave of heat rushed to [Name]’s face as her classmates snickered softly. She hurried to an empty seat, her head bowed in embarrassment. “S-Sorry,” she mumbled, quickly pulling out her notebook to avoid further attention.

Mr. Blake shook his head, his sharp gray eyes briefly lingering on her before continuing his lecture. “As I was saying before we were so rudely interrupted…”

Despite her best efforts to focus, [Name] couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. From the corner of her eye, she noticed a group of students whispering and glancing her way, their muffled laughter making her stomach churn.

In the back of the room, three particular figures leaned back in their seats, their gazes fixed on her. Their low murmurs were just out of earshot, but the intensity of their scrutiny was enough to make [Name]’s skin crawl.

She kept her head down, pretending to take notes while internally cursing herself for being late. ‘Great start, [Name]. Just great.’

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

As [Name] quietly slipped into her seat, the echoes of her professor’s scolding still reverberated in her ears. Her cheeks burned with humiliation as she opened her notebook, forcing herself to focus on the lecture. But no matter how much she tried to zone in on Mr. Blake's sharp voice, she couldn’t ignore the feeling of eyes lingering on her.

From the far back of the classroom, three figures leaned back in their chairs, their postures casual yet predatory.

Eita Otoya tilted his chair slightly, balancing it on its back legs. His dark, low-lidded eyes roamed over [Name] with a mixture of amusement and interest. He smirked lazily, brushing a hand through his white and green-streaked hair. “Well, well. She’s got that whole ‘shy, flustered new girl’ vibe going for her,” he said, his tone dripping with confidence. “Blushing like that? Bet she’s already imagining someone like me sweeping her off her feet.”

“Someone like you?” Aiki Himizu snickered beside him, flicking his bobbed silver hair out of his face and sticking out his split tongue, the movement snake-like. His gray eyes glinted mischievously. “Please, Otoya. She’s way out of your league. That kind of sweetness needs more… refined touch. I bet she smells like flowers. Or candy.” He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “Wonder if she’d cry if someone messed with her. Always fun seeing the cute ones squirm.”

"Gross," Jin Kiyora muttered, though his teal eyes were firmly fixed on [Name] as well, partially obscured by his dark, wispy bangs. Despite his quiet nature, he had a blunt, matter-of-fact way of speaking. “She’s obviously not used to this place. Easy prey.” His gaze narrowed slightly, analyzing her every movement. “She’s got that nervous habit—fidgeting with her pen. She won’t even see it coming if someone plays her.”

Otoya laughed softly, his smirk widening. “Relax, Kiyora. No one’s gonna do anything too drastic. Just a little fun, right? Besides, girls like her—so timid and flustered—always end up falling for a guy who knows how to take charge.” He glanced over at Himizu. “Right, Aiki?”

Himizu’s grin spread wider, his split tongue flicking out again. “Oh, I know exactly what you mean. She’s got that innocent look, the kind that makes you want to… guide her a little.” He chuckled darkly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Or maybe break her in.”

Kiyora rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything, simply watching [Name] as if studying her every move. He wasn’t as overt as the other two, but his thoughts weren’t much different. To him, [Name]’s flushed face and quiet demeanor screamed vulnerability—a quality he found simultaneously irritating and intriguing.

Meanwhile, [Name] was oblivious to their conversation, too preoccupied with the weight of her own embarrassment. She didn’t notice the way Otoya’s gaze lingered on her face, or how Himizu’s sharp eyes scanned her every movement. Kiyora’s intense stare went unnoticed, her focus glued to her notebook as she scribbled down notes in a desperate attempt to blend in.

The atmosphere around the three boys was charged with a mix of amusement and predation, their low whispers barely audible over the lecture. They were like wolves observing a lamb, circling and plotting with a shared, unspoken understanding.

“Wonder how long it’ll take her to crack,” Otoya said with a smirk. “Maybe I’ll get her to talk to me after class. Bet she’s got a cute laugh.”

Himizu shrugged, the grin never leaving his face. “If you don’t scare her off first. Girls like her are too fun to ruin too fast.”

Kiyora finally spoke again, his voice quiet but firm. “Whatever. Just don’t drag me into it. I don’t do stupid.” But even as he said it, his eyes stayed on [Name], the corners of his lips twitching into a barely noticeable smirk.

The three of them leaned back in their chairs, their quiet conversation fading into the background as the lecture continued. To the rest of the class, they appeared disinterested and detached. But for [Name], unaware of the attention she’d garnered, this was only the beginning of a dangerous game she had unknowingly entered.

The classroom was silent aside from the steady scratching of pens and the occasional flip of a notebook page. Mr. Blake paced at the front, his voice sharp and precise as he explained complex themes and concepts with unwavering authority. Occasionally, he would pause, turning to the students with piercing eyes. "I hope you're all keeping up because I will be checking comprehension," he said sternly, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.

[Name] was fully immersed, her pen flying across the page with swift, fluid movements. Her handwriting was neat yet quick, each note perfectly organized. She had a natural ability to keep pace with the lecture, her basketball-trained reflexes extending even to academics.

Beside her, however, Ikki Niko was struggling. His black hair hung over his eyes, nearly obscuring his vision as he repeatedly scratched out sentences in his notebook. His grip on the pen was tight, his frustration evident as he erased yet another line, leaving faint smudges on the paper. He muttered something under his breath, a quiet mix of frustration and resignation.

[Name] noticed his struggle out of the corner of her eye. Without hesitation, she turned slightly toward him, her voice soft but warm. “Hey,” she whispered, careful not to draw Mr. Blake’s attention. “Do you want to borrow my notes? I’ve got everything written down.”

Ikki froze, his body stiffening as her words registered. He turned his head slightly, just enough for one of his dark eyes to peek through the curtain of hair. For a moment, he seemed unsure how to respond, his introverted nature clashing with the unexpected kindness.

“I… uh…” he stammered, his voice barely audible. The thought of a girl—especially one as kind and pretty as [Name]—offering to help him made his face flush with embarrassment. His fingers fidgeted nervously with the pen, and he glanced away, his voice faltering. “Th-thank you… I mean, I—uh…”

[Name] smiled gently, her expression patient and encouraging. “It’s no problem, really. Here.” She slid her notebook over to him, her hand brushing lightly against his as she did. “Take your time. I’ll catch up later if I need to.”

Ikki hesitated, his hand hovering over the notebook as if touching it would burn him. Finally, he accepted it, his cheeks glowing red. “T-thanks,” he murmured, his voice so quiet it was almost swallowed by the ambient noise of the classroom.

[Name] gave him a reassuring nod and returned to her work, hoping her gesture had helped ease his nerves. Ikki kept his head low, focusing intently on her notes. Despite his embarrassment, he couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of gratitude—and perhaps a bit of awe—that someone had noticed his struggle and cared enough to help.

But while this small moment of kindness unfolded, it did not go unnoticed by the trio at the back of the class.

Eita Otoya’s smirk vanished, replaced by a dark scowl. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk as his sharp eyes narrowed on Ikki . “What the hell does he think he’s doing?” he muttered, his voice low but dripping with irritation. “Acting all helpless just to get her attention? Pathetic.”

Aiki Himizu chuckled darkly, his split tongue flicking out as he rested his chin in his hand. “Looks like the little loner scored some points with the princess,” he said, his tone mocking. “Did you see the way she smiled at him? All soft and sweet… ugh, makes me want to puke.” He leaned closer to Otoya, his grin taking on a sinister edge. “Think we should teach him a lesson? Show him what happens when you get too cozy with someone out of your league?”

Jin Kiyora, who had been silent up until now, finally spoke, his voice flat and emotionless. “She’s wasting her time on him.” His teal eyes flicked to [Name], his gaze cold and calculating. “Someone like her… she’s better off being broken in. Kindness like that doesn’t belong here.”

Otoya clenched his jaw, his fingers drumming impatiently on his desk. The idea of [Name] showing kindness—or worse, interest—toward someone else gnawed at him. His possessiveness flared, mixing with a deep-rooted jealousy that he couldn’t quite shake.

“She’s too good for that loser,” Otoya said, his tone bitter. “He doesn’t even know how to talk to her. Bet he’d run crying if we so much as looked at him funny.”

“Maybe we should make her see that,” Himizu added, his grin widening. “Show her who the real men in this room are. She’s too sweet. Too soft. Wouldn’t it be fun to see what happens when that little smile of hers disappears?”

Kiyora’s lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smirk, his voice low and devoid of emotion. “Pain always reveals the truth.”

The three of them exchanged glances, a silent agreement passing between them. Their jealousy and spite had ignited something dark within them, a twisted desire to toy with [Name] and remind her of her place in their world.

Meanwhile, [Name] remained blissfully unaware of the storm brewing at the back of the classroom. She focused on her notes, occasionally glancing at Ikki to make sure he was managing. For her, it was just a small act of kindness. But for the trio watching her, it was the start of something far more dangerous.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

The club room was dimly lit, the faint flicker of a roaring fireplace casting long shadows across the dark wooden floors. The air smelled faintly of smoke and copper, an eerie silence hanging heavy except for the occasional crackle of the flames. The once-pristine room bore the signs of a violent scuffle-overturned chairs, shattered glass, and blood spattered across the floor.

On the ground, Ruka Sanzuku lay crumpled, his breathing labored, and his face contorted in pain. Blood seeped from the fresh wound on his neck, pooling beneath him in a vivid crimson halo. His black hair was disheveled, sticking to his sweat-soaked forehead. He groaned softly, one trembling hand clutching at the puncture marks as if he could will the blood back into his veins.

Across the room stood Don Lorenzo, wiping the corners of his mouth with a golden handkerchief, the metallic glint of his teeth catching the firelight. His lips were stained red, and a wicked grin spread across his face, like a predator reveling in the aftermath of its kill.

"Ahh, you taste even better than I expected, Ruka," Lorenzo sneered, his deep voice dripping with mockery. He spat the last traces of blood onto the floor, the disdain evident in his every move. "But I gotta say... what's this?" He leaned closer, tilting his head to inspect the faint bite marks already etched into Ruka's neck. His grin widened, his amusement bubbling into a cruel laugh. "Someone's already had a taste of you? Tch. You're easier than I thought. Like a fine wine passed around too much-spoiled."

Ruka's eyes, dull with exhaustion, flashed with fury. "Shut... up..." he rasped, his voice barely above a whisper.

Lorenzo chuckled, stepping forward to loom over him. His sharp, golden teeth glinted as he crouched down, grabbing Ruka's face roughly and forcing him to look up. "What's that? You're still trying to talk back? Pathetic. Maybe next time, don't pick a fight with someone you clearly can't handle."

Ruka gritted his teeth, his body trembling as he tried to push Lorenzo's hand away, but his strength was fading fast. The loss of blood left him lightheaded, his vision blurring at the edges.

Lorenzo leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper, yet every word was laced with venom. "You're not even worth finishing off. But your precious cousin... [Name], wasn't it? Now she's an interesting one. I've heard all sorts of things about her. I wonder..." He trailed off, standing up and adjusting his collar. "What she tastes like."

Ruka's heart pounded despite his weakened state. Rage surged through him, momentarily drowning out the pain. "Don't... you... dare…”

Lorenzo merely laughed, turning his back to Ruka and heading for the door. "Save your strength, Sanzuku. You're in no condition to stop me. And honestly, I'd be doing her a favor, showing her what it's like to be with someone real." He paused at the doorway, throwing one last glance over his shoulder, his eyes gleaming with malice. "Try not to bleed out before anyone finds you, yeah?" With that, he strode out, his mocking laughter echoing down the hall.

The door slammed shut, and Ruka was left alone in the room. The crackling of the fire was the only sound, a cruel counterpoint to his labored breaths. His fists clenched against the floor nails digging into the wood as he fought to push himself up.

"Damn it..." he muttered, his voice shaking. His body screamed in protest, every movement a herculean effort, but he refused to stay down. Blood dripped from his neck and onto his hands, staining them red as he struggled onto his knees.

The flames cast an eerie glow on his face, highlighting the mix of pain and fury in his expression. His teeth ground together as he glared at the floor, his mind replaying Lorenzo's words about [Name]. The thought of her in Lorenzo's clutches ignited a fire within him, stronger than any physical agony.

"I'm... not done..." he growled, his voice low and guttural. He pressed a hand to the wall, using it to steady himself as he forced his body upright. His legs wobbled, and for a moment, it seemed as though he would collapse again. But sheer willpower kept him standing.

Ruka's breaths came in sharp, uneven gasps, but his eyes burned with determination. "You think you can just... get away with this?" he muttered to himself, his voice gaining strength with every word. "You don't know who you're messing with.”

The firelight flickered across his face, casting shadows that made his expression even more menacing. Despite his weakened state, there was an unyielding resolve in his stance, a promise that he wouldn't let this humiliation go unanswered.

Ruka staggered toward the fireplace, using every ounce of strength to keep moving. The heat from the flames warmed his chilled skin, a reminder that he was still alive-still fighting. He clenched his fists, blood smearing across his palms, and whispered through gritted teeth:

"You'll pay for this, Lorenzo. And if you so much as touch [Name]..." His voice trailed off, replaced by a low, feral growl. He didn't need to finish the sentence. His intent was clear.

As the fire roared in the hearth, Ruka stood tall despite the blood and pain, his rage burning brighter than ever. This wasn't over. Not by a long shot.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

The corridor buzzed with scattered conversations and the shuffle of students preparing for their next classes, but [Name]'s focus was sharp. After exchanging numbers with Niko, her mood was buoyant, though the lingering sensation of being watched prickled at her senses. She stole glances over her shoulder as she walked briskly toward her AP Government and Politics class, the uneasy feeling gnawing at her.

With a quick stride, she entered the classroom, her shoulders relaxing as she let out a quiet sigh of relief. The room was modest, with neatly arranged desks and a whiteboard at the front already marked with key topics for the lecture. Students filtered in slowly, chatting and shuffling into their seats. [Name] slid into an empty desk near the window, dropping her bag and resting her chin on her hand as she gazed out, trying to shake off the unease.

The hum of conversations dulled in her ears until a familiar, cool voice broke through the noise.

“Is this seat taken?”

Startled, she turned to see who it was, her eyes widening in disbelief. Standing there, tall and self-assured, was Tabito Karasu. His spiky purple hair framed his sharp features, and the subtle smirk tugging at his lips was as recognizable as ever.

“Karasu-senpai?” [Name] blinked, momentarily stunned before a bright smile spread across her face. “I can’t believe it! What are you doing here?”

He chuckled, sliding into the seat beside her without waiting for a reply. “Long time, no see, [Name]. Looks like we’re classmates again—well, for this course anyway.”

[Name] felt a mix of excitement and nostalgia wash over her. Back in high school, Tabito had always been an enigmatic figure. Though his sharp tongue and no-nonsense attitude could be intimidating, he had always treated her with surprising respect, a rare quality considering how dismissive he could be of others.

“Wait, you’re in this class too?” she asked, her eyes lighting up. “I never thought I’d run into you here, Senpai.”

“Neither did I,” he admitted, leaning back in his chair with an air of casual confidence. “But I figured I’d grace this class with my presence.” His smirk widened as he added teasingly, “You should feel honored, Kohai.”

[Name] rolled her eyes, though her smile didn’t falter. “Oh, sure. Honored to hear your endless complaints about how boring the lecture is, right?”

Tabito feigned a hurt expression, placing a hand dramatically over his chest. “Ouch. You wound me, [Name]. I’m here to absorb knowledge like everyone else. What kind of senior would I be if I didn’t set a good example?”

“An honest one,” she quipped, stifling a laugh.

Tabito chuckled, his sharp blue eyes softening slightly as he regarded her. “Still quick with the comebacks, I see. Good. I was worried college might’ve dulled you.”

As the two bantered, the room filled up, and the professor began setting up their materials at the front. The energy shifted slightly, but Tabito’s attention remained fixed on [Name].

“So, how’s college treating you so far?” he asked, his tone surprisingly sincere.

[Name] tilted her head, thinking for a moment. “It’s been… interesting, to say the least. Classes are challenging, but I like them so far. Though,” she added with a small frown, “it’s a little overwhelming at times. It’s such a big campus, and I’ve already gotten lost twice today.”

Tabito raised an eyebrow. “Twice? Seriously?”

“Don’t start,” she warned, pointing a finger at him, though the amused glint in her eyes betrayed her irritation. “It’s only my first day!”

“Relax, Kohai, I’m just messing with you.” His smirk returned, but there was a note of genuine concern in his gaze. “You’ll get the hang of it. You’re smarter than half the people here, anyway.”

“Thanks, I think?” she said, laughing softly.

As [Name] chuckled softly, replying to Tabito’s playful banter, the classroom began to fill up. The noise of chairs scraping against the floor and the low hum of conversations mixed with the faint hum of the air conditioning, signaling the class was about to start.

From the corner of her eye, she saw a familiar figure enter the room—Aleix Ness. His neat brown and magenta hair seemed to catch the light as he confidently strode in, his doe magenta eyes scanning the room. When his gaze landed on her, his expression softened into a smile. He raised a hand in a small wave. [Name] smiled back and waved at him, appreciating the warm acknowledgment. Alexis made his way to a seat near the middle of the room, his posture as relaxed as his attitude, casually chatting with a few other students around him.

Not long after, she noticed another familiar face—Nagi Seishiro. He shuffled in, his snow-white hair lazily tousled as if he’d just rolled out of bed. Seishiro carried an air of utter disinterest, slouching as he walked and dragging his feet. He muttered something to himself, probably lamenting the effort it took to attend a class he clearly didn’t care about. Despite this, he took a seat near the back, propping his chin on his hand as if waiting for the class to be over before it had even begun.

[Name] turned to Tabito and whispered, “Looks like Nagi’s as excited as ever about politics.”

Tabito smirked, glancing briefly at Seishiro. “I give him ten minutes before he’s asleep. He’s got about as much energy for this subject as I do for group projects.”

Before [Name] could reply, her attention was drawn to two unfamiliar figures entering the classroom. The first was a striking young man with shaggy, dark purple hair tipped with lime green. His chiseled jawline was accentuated by a hint of facial hair, and his tall, muscular frame exuded confidence. One look at his heterochromatic eyes—one green, the other purple—made it hard to look away.

“That’s Oliver Aiku,” Tabito muttered, noticing [Name]’s curiosity. “Big name in sports and an even bigger name with the ladies. Don’t let that grin fool you; he’s trouble.”

As if to confirm Tabito’s words, Aiku flashed a charming smile at a girl he passed, making her blush and giggle. He found a seat not too far from [Name] and Tabito, stretching out lazily and looking like he owned the place.

Right behind him came another unfamiliar face. This one had reddish-salmon hair that was slightly fluffy, with side bangs framing his pale red eyes. He carried himself with a cocky swagger, a smug expression plastered across his face.

“Sendo Shūto,” Tabitomurmured with a hint of disdain. “If you thought Aiku was bad, wait till you hear that guy brag about himself for five minutes. He’s got an ego bigger than his skill set.”

Sure enough, as Sendo took a seat near Aiku, [Name] could hear snippets of their conversation.

“Man, politics? I could run for president if I wanted to,” Sendo said, leaning back in his chair. “Not that I’d need to. I’m already top of my game in everything else.”

Aiku chuckled, his deep voice dripping with amusement. “Sure you are, Sendo. Just don’t trip over your own ego on the way out.”

Their laughter carried across the room, drawing a few annoyed looks from other students. [Name] exchanged a glance with Tabito, who rolled his eyes.

“Class is already off to a great start,” he muttered sarcastically.

Just as the room was starting to settle down, another figure entered—a young man with chocolate-brown hair and rosy cheeks that gave him an almost boyish charm. His dark brown eyes were lively, and the piercing on his left ear caught the light as he moved.

“Imamura Yudai,” Tabito said before [Name] could ask. “Professional flirt. Watch out for him; he’s got a mirror and isn’t afraid to use it.”

Yudai took a seat near the back, pulling out a small mirror from his pocket and checking his reflection with a satisfied smirk. Tabito leaned closer to [Name] and whispered, “How much you wanna bet he spends more time flirting than studying?”

[Name] stifled a laugh, glancing back at Imamura. “I don’t think he even knows what studying is.”

Tabito grinned, clearly enjoying their shared commentary.

The door creaked open again, and the room fell silent as the professor entered. Dada Silva, a towering man with a broad build, strode in with an air of authority. His dreadlocks swayed slightly as he moved, and his dark brown eyes scanned the room with an almost predatory sharpness.

“Good morning, class,” he said, his rich Brazilian accent filling the room. There was a hint of sarcasm in his tone as he continued, “Or should I say good luck, since half of you look like you barely know what day it is.”

A few students exchanged awkward glances, and Tabito leaned toward [Name], whispering, “I like him already.”

Dada placed a thick binder on his desk and turned to face the class, crossing his arms. “AP Government and Politics. Fancy title, isn’t it? Too bad most of you wouldn’t last five minutes in a real debate. But that’s why I’m here—to drag you out of your mediocrity.”

[Name] felt a shiver run down her spine at his intense gaze, but she couldn’t help but feel intrigued. Dada Silva had a commanding presence that demanded attention, even if his approach was far from gentle.

“First things first,” Dada said, his voice sharp and clear. “This isn’t high school anymore. If you’re here to slack off, leave now. I don’t have time to babysit.” His eyes flicked to Nagi, who looked half-asleep already, and Aiku, who was casually leaning back in his chair.

“Especially you,” he added, pointing at Seishiro, whose eyes widened slightly in surprise. “Sit up, pay attention, or find another class.”

[Name] couldn’t help but glance at Tabito, who was barely containing his laughter. “This is going to be interesting,” he murmured.

As Dada began the lecture, his passion for the subject became evident, even as his sarcastic remarks kept everyone on edge. [Name] found herself drawn in, despite the intensity, and she could tell Karasu was just as captivated—even if he wouldn’t admit it.

The professor called the class to attention, and the students began quieting down, shuffling their notebooks and pens. As the lecture started, Tabito leaned slightly closer to [Name], lowering his voice to a whisper.

“You better not fall asleep during this. I’m keeping an eye on you.”

“Me?” she whispered back, feigning innocence. “I’m a model student, Senpai. Maybe you should worry about yourself.”

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair but keeping his attention on her for just a moment longer. Despite his confident exterior, there was a hint of warmth in his demeanor when he was around her—a subtle but noticeable shift that set her apart from the others he interacted with.

Throughout the lecture, [Name] found herself feeling oddly comforted by Tabito’s presence. It was nice to have a familiar face in the sea of strangers, someone who wasn’t just polite or cordial but genuinely engaging.

Meanwhile, Tabito couldn’t help but steal glances at her as she diligently took notes, her focus unwavering. There was something about her—the way her mismatched eyes lit up with interest, the faint smile that played on her lips as she wrote—that made her stand out in a way he couldn’t quite explain.

As the lecture progressed, Tabito leaned over again, whispering, “Hey, [Name]. After this, let me show you a shortcut to the dining hall. I know you’re going to get lost again.”

She looked at him, her brows furrowing playfully. “Are you calling me directionally challenged?”

“I’m just stating facts,” he replied with a grin.

Despite her mock glare, [Name] nodded. “Fine. But only because I don’t want to embarrass myself again.”

The two exchanged a brief, knowing smile before turning back to the lecture. The atmosphere around them felt lighter, more comfortable. Even as the class carried on, their conversation lingered in the air—a quiet connection that neither of them could ignore.

As the lecture progressed, Mr. Silva's booming voice filled the classroom with a mix of information and sharp commentary. The topic was the role of political systems in shaping governance—a dry subject for some but delivered with Dada Silva's signature flair.

Midway through, Mr. Silva clapped his hands together, making several students jump. “Alright, enough of me talking. It’s time for you to think for yourselves. Group assignment time.”

Groans filled the room, but Dada ignored them. “Pair up with someone next to you. You’ll work together to analyze a political system of your choice and present your findings next week. I’ll be grading your insight, not your ability to copy-paste from Wikipedia. So, show me something worth my time.”

Tabito leaned back in his chair, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he turned to [Name]. “Well, I guess it’s you and me, Kohai. Try to keep up, okay?”

[Name] rolled her eyes, matching his smirk with one of her own. “Oh, don’t worry, Senpai. I won’t carry too hard.”

The two set to work, quickly deciding on their topic: the differences between parliamentary and presidential systems. Tabito took the lead in laying out the structure of their analysis, his sharp mind shining through as he effortlessly broke down the complexities. [Name], equally quick and organized, filled in gaps, added her own insights, and typed everything up with precision.

Within 30 minutes, their assignment was done—a polished, well-organized document ready for submission.

“Done already?” [Name] asked, leaning back and stretching her arms. “That was faster than I expected.”

Tabito chuckled. “What can I say? When you’ve got brains and charm on your team, anything’s possible.”

[Name] laughed softly, resting her chin on her hand. “You mean when you’ve got me on your team?”

Tabito gasped mockingly. “Wow, Kohai, that confidence. You’ve been hanging out with me too much.”

The two fell into easy conversation, discussing everything from their old high school days to Tabito’s recent escapades at university. His sharp wit and her quick comebacks made the time fly by, their laughter breaking through the otherwise quiet classroom.

As [Name] leaned forward to adjust her notes, she noticed something out of the corner of her eye. Across the room, Oliver Aiku was leaning back in his chair, one arm draped lazily over the backrest, his sharp gaze fixed directly on her. When their eyes met, he didn’t look away. Instead, he smirked and gave her a slow, deliberate wink.

[Name] felt her cheeks flush slightly and quickly looked down at her notebook, pretending to focus on something else.

Tabito noticed her sudden change in demeanor and followed her line of sight. He caught sight of Aiku, who was now casually spinning a pen in his hand, his gaze never leaving [Name].

“Seriously?” Tabito muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes. “That guy thinks he’s God’s gift to women.”

Before [Name] could respond, she caught sight of Sendo Shūto, who was sitting next to Aiku. His reddish-salmon hair framed his face as he glanced over at her and Tabito. Unlike Aiku’s bold wink, Sendo offered her a friendly, almost teasing smirk, as if to say I see you.

[Name] felt a mix of awkwardness and amusement. “Uh, Senpai, I think we’re being… watched.”

Tabito leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “Watched? Try evaluated. Aiku’s probably deciding what lame pickup line to use, and Sendo’s wondering if he can out-charm him. Honestly, Kohai, you’re better off ignoring them both.”

[Name] laughed softly, glancing briefly at the two again. Aiku’s smirk had turned into a full grin, while Sendo was now whispering something to him, likely some joke at their expense.

“Noted,” she said, turning her attention back to Tabito. “Anyway, let’s just focus on us. I don’t need to deal with their nonsense right now.”

Tabito smirked, leaning back in his chair. “Good call. Let them stew in their mediocrity.”

Despite her best efforts to ignore them, [Name] couldn’t shake the feeling of Aiku’s and Sendo’s eyes on her throughout the remainder of their free time.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

The bell signaling the end of class rang through the halls, and the shuffle of students packing their bags filled the air. [Name] stretched her arms and turned to Tabito, who stood from his chair with his usual effortless grace.

"Well, Kohai," he said, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "Good teamwork today. Don’t let the mediocrity around here rub off on you."

[Name] chuckled. “I’ll try my best, Senpai. See you around.”

Tabito smirked and gave her a quick wave before heading down the opposite corridor. [Name] watched him disappear into the crowd before turning to make her way to the gym, her excitement building.

Finally, basketball time.

She entered the indoor gym, its polished wooden floors gleaming under the bright lights. The faint echo of sneakers squeaking and basketballs bouncing created a familiar, comforting ambiance. Other students were already there, stretching or casually shooting hoops.

[Name] headed straight to the locker room, where the basketball club’s uniforms were stored. The uniforms were sleek, designed in the signature Blue Lock black and blue color scheme, with subtle accents of white. [Name] changed quickly, securing her hair into low twin-tails tied with red ribbons, her usual style. She adjusted her red glasses and took a deep breath before stepping back onto the court.

The coach, a sharp-eyed woman with a whistle around her neck, called everyone to gather in the center. “Alright, listen up! Today’s practice is all about endurance and precision. I want to see hustle out there, understood?”

A chorus of “Yes, Coach!” echoed through the gym.

The warm-up began with jogging laps around the court. [Name], with her tall, slender frame, moved effortlessly, keeping a steady pace while her mind focused on the game ahead. After a few laps, they transitioned into dribbling drills and practice plays.

When it came time for scrimmage practice, [Name] truly shined. Positioned near the paint, she moved like lightning, her speed and agility catching even the seasoned players off guard.

The ball was passed to her, and she instantly pivoted, dodging her defender. With a powerful leap, she soared into the air, her long limbs stretching as she dunked the ball with incredible force. The slam echoed through the gym, followed by stunned silence.

Then, cheers erupted.

“Whoa! Did you see that?”

“She just flew!”

“Damn, [Name]!”

[Name] landed gracefully, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. A shy smile tugged at her lips as she adjusted her glasses. “Just doing my best,” she said, a little embarrassed by the attention.

The coach blew her whistle, a small grin breaking her otherwise stern demeanor. “Impressive, Sanzuku. Keep that up, and you’ll be the star of this team in no time.”

[Name] nodded, her confidence growing with each play. The practice continued, and her jumping ability and precision shots became the highlight of the session. Whether it was fast breaks, defensive rebounds, or dunks, [Name] performed with a level of skill and energy that left her teammates in awe.

As the practice wound down, one of her teammates, a girl with short blonde hair and a competitive edge, approached her. “Hey, [Name], you’ve got some insane hops. What’s your secret?”

[Name] laughed softly, wiping sweat from her brow. “Honestly? A lot of practice. And maybe a bit of inspiration from Michael Jordan.”

The blonde girl blinked. “Wait, Michael Jordan? You mean the famous basketball player?”

[Name] grinned. “Yep. Michael Jordan taught me everything I know.”

The girl burst into laughter, slapping [Name] on the back. “You’re something else, [Name].”

As the session ended, [Name] left the gym feeling exhilarated, her spirits high. Basketball had always been her refuge, and days like these reminded her why she loved the game so much. Little did she know, however, that even in this sanctuary, watchful eyes were lingering on her every move.

The coach then blew the whistle To get packed up and end the day but someone had to stay behind and clean up the mess, of course [Name] volunteers as tribute to help set back the pieces and equipment back in the closet.

The court was quiet now, the lively echoes of practice replaced by the soft hum of the overhead lights. [Name] hummed a light tune to herself as she gathered the scattered basketballs. She rolled them into the large metal basket, her movements fluid despite the lingering fatigue from practice.

“Almost done,” she murmured, brushing her hands on her shorts.

The soft mats were next, so she headed toward the storage closet at the back of the gym. Stacking them neatly, she felt a small sense of accomplishment. Cleaning up was therapeutic in a way—she enjoyed the peace it brought after the day’s chaos.

Just as she was about to move the last mat, the sound of a door creaking open pierced the silence. The back exit.

[Name] froze, her heart skipping a beat. She whipped her head toward the sound, her eyes scanning the now dimly lit gym. The doors swung lazily, as if moved by an invisible hand.

She exhaled, trying to calm herself. “Must’ve been the wind,” she muttered, though her voice wavered.

She turned back to her task, determined to shake off the unease creeping into her thoughts. But then, a basketball rolled across the floor.

It came out of nowhere, bumping softly against her foot.

[Name]’s breath hitched. Her head shot up, her eyes darting around the empty gym. “Okay, whoever’s out there, this isn’t funny!” she called, her voice firmer this time, though the tremor in it betrayed her nerves.

Silence.

Her irritation flared. “Seriously, cut it out!”

[Name] stepped toward the wooden door leading to the closet. Her hand hovered over the handle for a moment before she gritted her teeth and yanked it open.

The door swung wide, and before she could register what was happening, something grabbed her wrist in an iron grip and pulled her forward. She stumbled, a startled gasp escaping her lips.

Her back slammed against the wall with a dull thud, and a sharp jolt of pain spread across her spine. Her red glasses shifted slightly on her face as her wide eyes darted up to meet whoever—or whatever—was holding her.

Strong hands gripped her wrists, pinning them against the wood.

Her breathing quickened, panic threatening to take over as she tried to process what was happening. “H-Hey!” she stammered, struggling against the hold. “Let go of me!”

The figure didn’t speak right away, their presence overwhelming in the confined space. Their breath was warm and steady, contrasting sharply with [Name]’s rapid, shallow gasps.

She swallowed hard, her heartbeat pounding in her ears. “Who are you? What do you want?” she demanded, her voice rising with equal parts fear and defiance.

The dim gymnasium lights flickered slightly, casting eerie shadows along the walls as [Name] pressed herself against the wooden panels of the storage closet. The basketball that had bounced earlier now lay motionless, as if mocking her rising fear. She swallowed hard, her body trembling as the strong hands pinned her firmly against the wooden surface.

Her wrists throbbed under the grip, the pressure unrelenting. She strained to look up, her breath hitching when her gaze locked onto her assailant.

The blonde-haired figure leered down at her, his amber eyes glinting with a predatory hunger. His sharp canines peeked through a sly grin, his entire demeanor radiating arrogance and danger.

"You!" [Name] gasped, recognition dawning on her. The memory of the blonde-haired boy watching her from afar earlier during the day resurfaced. "You were-!"

"Me?" he interrupted with a mocking chuckle, his voice low and dripping with amusement only heightened the sinister edge to his words. "Oh, I'm so glad you noticed me, Bitch!”

"Let go of me!" [Name] snapped, struggling against his iron grip. "What the hell do you want?!"

His smirk deepened, his sharp teeth glinting under the faint light. "What do I want? Isn't it obvious, stupid girl?" he sneered, leaning in closer, his breath hot against her flushed face. "I want you."

Her eyes widened in shock and horror. She twisted against him, trying to create space between their bodies, but he was immovable, his strength far surpassing hers.

"No! Get away from me!" she yelled, her voice echoing in the empty gym.

His laughter filled the space, dark and menacing. "Oh, you won't let me?" he mocked, his amber eyes narrowing. "You don't have a damn clue who you're speaking to."

With one hand, Raichi slammed her wrists above her head, securing them with ease. His free hand moved to toy with a strand of her hair, lifting it to his nose as if savoring her scent.

"Ahhh," he breathed deeply, a shiver of pleasure running through him. "You smell like...flowers. Sweet and delicate.”

[Name] recoiled, disgust flashing across her features as she continued to writhe against him. "Get off of me, you creep!"

Her defiance only seemed to amuse him further. Raichi's smile widened, his grip tightening as he forced her chin up with his fingers, his strength making her attempts to turn away futile. His knee pressed between her legs, pinning her firmly against the wall.

"You're even prettier up close," he mused, his eyes dancing with wicked delight. "Such a waste to leave something like you untouched.”

"Knock it off!" [Name] spat, her voice filled with equal parts anger and fear.

Raichi's hand moved to her throat, his fingers tightening just enough to make her gasp for air. He tilted his head, his amber eyes glowing with a predatory hunger. "Hush, now," he cooed mockingly. "Don't ruin this for me."

[Name] froze as she felt his hot breath against her neck. A shudder ran down her spine when his tongue slid across her skin, the sensation rough and invasive.

"Stop it!" she shouted, trying to kick him, but her strength was no match for his unyielding hold.

Raichi chuckled, the sound low and dark. "You're making this so much more fun," he whispered, his voice laced with sadistic glee.

Then, without warning, a sharp, searing pain exploded in her neck. [Name]'s eyes widened, a strangled cry escaping her lips.

"Ahhh," Raichi groaned against her neck, the sound disturbingly pleased as he drank deeply. His teeth pierced her skin effortlessly, the sensation of her blood leaving her body making her head spin.

"No..." [Name] whimpered, her voice weak as her strength drained away.Her legs buckled, and if it weren't for Raichi holding her up, she would've collapsed to the ground.

He drank with abandon, his grip on her unrelenting as he took more than he should. [Name]'s vision blurred, the room spinning as her body betrayed her.

Finally, Raichi pulled back, licking the blood off his lips with a satisfied smirk. He released her, letting her slide down the wall like a broken doll.

[Name] crumpled to the floor, clutching her neck as tears streamed down her face. Her breathing was ragged, her body trembling uncontrollably.

Raichi crouched down, his amber eyes locking onto hers. "Heh. You taste even better than you look," he taunted, wiping a stray trail of blood from his chin with the back of his hand. "But don't worry-I'll be back for more."

He stood up, his towering frame casting a shadow over her shivering form. With a final laugh, he turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing through the empty gym.

[Name] sat there, her body wracked with sobs as she clutched her neck, the sting of his bite still fresh. The room felt colder now, her mind racing to comprehend the nightmare she had just endured.

"What...just happened?" she whispered, her voice breaking as she hugged her knees to her chest. The once-safe sanctuary of the gym now felt like a trap, and for the first time, [Name] was truly afraid.

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𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚜, 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝙸'𝚖 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢, 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚒𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞. 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝙲𝙾𝙻𝙻𝙴𝙶𝙴 𝙲𝙰𝙼𝙿𝚄𝚂!! 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝙰𝙱𝙾𝚅𝙴 𝟷𝟾 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚛!!!

Title Character Bios Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

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bunnyanqel · 11 months ago

Text

Like A Virgin (1)

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

Summary: Eddie's almost fifty and, unfortunately, still a virgin. His options have dwindled, his chances missed, so he relies on one last option—an escort. But what starts off as a simple ‘get it over with and done’ kind of thing derails into the most mind-blowing and soul-connecting night of his life.

Conent: NSFW, 18+, MDNI, dirty talk, smut, shameless smut, loss of virginity, first kiss, first times, oral sex, cunnilingus, hand jobs, come as lube, come swallowing, praise kink, dacryphilia, crying, virgin eddie munson, escort services, older man/younger woman, gentle female dominant, enthusiastic consent, safe sex, brief mentions of child abuse, brief mentions of bullying, big dick eddie munson, overstimulation, touch-starvation, submissive eddie munson

｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡ﾟ。 also on AO3 ! 　ﾟ･｡･ﾟ

Eddie was a virgin.

Which wouldn’t have been that surprising—or embarrassing—if it wasn’t for the fact he was forty-eight, almost forty-nine. At twenty, it hadn’t seemed like a big deal, but at forty-eight? His tune changed.

A desire to not die a virgin—because that was his path, if it kept up—was what propelled him to make an appointment and led him to this crummy motel off of a desolate stretch of highway thirty minutes outside Hawkins, where no one knew him and he knew no one.

As he sat, his thoughts drifted to how he ended up in this situation. All of his life, he’d been labelled a freak, branded a failure from the minute he was born, so he’d simply become that. Become the failure devil-worshiping freak everyone thought he was. He hadn’t realized that, even after he’d managed to graduate by the skin of his teeth, the label would make it impossible to form any lasting connections, let alone get close enough to a woman to lose his virginity.

So here he was, sitting in a crappy motel room, waiting for the escort to show up, feeling like a pathetic loser. But he was at the end of his rope, desperate. Any attempts at dating had been sour in his younger years, and now that he was older, any excitement had shriveled in the face of overwhelming mortification.

Fucking forty-eight and still haven’t been kissed even, he chastised himself, even though he knew theoretically there was nothing with it. Everyone had their own pace for mile stones, and who cared if his were about twenty years late? Him apparently. A lot.

Three strong knocks on the door had him rising, had him crossing the scant space and easing the door open slowly. Trepidation pounded through his head at the glimpse of a young woman standing there, pretty, rich ebony skin and a curly pixie-cut.

“Eddie?” she said slowly, her Southern accent thick. She sounded like she was straight out of a cowboy movie with the strength of her twang. “Eddie Munson?”

He steeled himself, gathered every single ounce of courage, and pulled the door open wide. His breath caught in his throat at the woman in front of him—curvaceous, tits almost nonexistent, with an array of freckles or moles dotting her cherubic face, and the largest soft-brown eyes he’d ever seen.

When he imagined an escort, he’d thought of movie models in teeny-tiny scraps of dresses and sky-high heels, sultry eyes and big red lips. Instead this woman was wearing yoga pants and an over-sized ISU T-shirt underneath an equally baggy unzipped hoodie. She looked…normal, like a neighbor, the cute girl-next-door.

And entirely, ridiculously fuckable.

“I’m Savannah. Can I come in, sweetheart?” Her voice was pure molasses, washing over him like a decadent caramel, and he backed up to let her in scrabbling. Without missing a beat, she briskly walked in, and he caught a whiff of coconut oil, cocoa butter lotion. Sweet, like a damned dessert he wanted to sink his teeth into.

He hesitantly closed the door behind her and stayed in his corner, just watching her with undoubtedly rounded eyes. Taking in the swell of her hip, the way her yoga pants molded to the bouncy ass that jiggled as she walked.

“You seem nervous, sweetheart. This your first time?”

It took entirely too long to realize she was talking to him and even longer to reply, to unseal his dry lips with his tongue and ignore the pang of arousal that cut through him when her gaze dipped to his mouth.

“Uh-huh,” he managed to croak.

She set her small purse down and pulled her hoodie off, her back muscles shifting beneath her T-shirt. The edges of a tattoo peeked out of the collar of her shirt, teasing.

After a minute, she turned to him. “You seem…awful nervous.” A pause. “Even for a first timer,” she added as her keen, sharp eyes scanned him, an assessing look that made his cock throb and gut tighten.

“I’m gonna ask you a question, m’kay?” Before he could reply or lie, she pressed on in that calm, self-assured manner of hers. “Are you a virgin, Eddie?”

Heat suffused his face, burned the back of his neck, as he stood in his little corner, heart pounding in his ribcage like it was trying to escape. He hunched his shoulders, trying to shrink back, wondering if it was obvious in his demeanor.

She cocked her head and stared back at him, those keenness softening to something remarkably close to compassion. “S’okay if you are, sweetheart.” Her approach was slow as though he was a wounded animal that might bolt at any minute.

Which was fair, since he was contemplating running out the door and forgetting this entire interaction with a bottle of tequila.

His throat tightened. “H-how’d…I mean, if I was, which isn’t saying I am—how can you tell?” he asked quietly, watching as she came closer and closer still, until the tips of their shoes touched. His heart was sledgehammering in his chest, blood pounding and roaring in his ears as she closed that tiny fraction of distance between them.

“Sweetheart, I’ve been doing this long ’nough to sniff it out.”

“Fucking bloodhound,” he muttered before he could think better of it and stilled, unsure if she’d take it as an insult. His stomach tightened at the idea of offending her and running her off, and he felt slightly sick.

She tipped her head back and let out a loud cackle. “Why don’t you tell me a little more about yourself, Mr. Munson?”

Mr. Munson conjured images of Wayne, and he shuddered at the idea of being mistaken for him. Especially right now.

Without looking at her, he said, “Eddie’s fine.”

“Okay, Eddie, tell me why you hired me tonight.” Savannah plopped down on the bed with complete ease, legs splayed, and the movement bounced her tiny tits, drawing his eye to the way her puffy, hard nipples poked through the fabric.

He couldn’t stop staring.

She wasn’t—she wasn’t wearing a bra. Underneath that over-sized T-shirt were her bare tits, which left him wondering if she was even wearing panties. Was she naked beneath those yoga pants? The idea was heady and heated his blood like a shot of straight tequila.

“Eddie,” she purred in a low, rasp of a voice, smoky, “my eyes are up here. You can see them and even touch them tonight if you tell me why you ordered me tonight.” She shifted, jiggling, and it was a reflex to reach out and squeeze his cock, to adjust himself, but her expression turned hungry. The brown of her eyes had turned dark, her pupils eclipsing the color almost entirely.

“I…uh,” he croaked when he tore his eyes away from her breasts—her bare breasts, his mind reminded him in big neon signage—to look into her face. Between the big eyes framed by thickets of black eyelashes, the crooked button nose with the piercing, and her big, pouty lips, she looked like a wet dream.

And she wanted to hear about why he’d ordered her.

Shit.

He dampened his lips and tried hard to ignore the thrum of rushing, aroused blood in his ears. “I was—uh, how do I put this?”

It had been difficult enough living through his isolated teen years, even more difficult to say it out loud. To put all of his shortcomings to voice.

“I…was a freak,” he admitted quietly. Still am, he wanted to add but refrained. “I was a loser and a freak and—and a failure, or so everyone told me the minute I was old enough to understand words. So I became the freak, the loser, the failure because what else could I do? By the time I realized I was so much more…” He laughed dryly, the sound scraping his throat raw on the way out. His sinuses stung unexpectedly and heat bloomed behind his eyes. “…It was too late.”

“Too late?” Savannah prompted softly, her voice low. Her eyes glittered in the lamplight, sympathetic and soft, and it was a punch to the sternum.

“Too late for any woman to want me. When you grow up building an armor, sometimes you become the armor, and by the time you realize it…” He swallowed back the rest of his words and offered a careless shrug, forcing indifference. Heat filled his cheeks, crept along the back of his neck, squeezed his throat in a vice-grip. The familiar chill of defeat twisted inside of him, making a home alongside the embarrassment and longing.

Pathetic. He was pathetic. Forty-eight years old and still wailing about being a virgin, about the way he was treated—

“Thank you for sharing that with me.” She slid off the bed with ease, walking closer like a specter, her movement slow and effortless. Like she was comfortable in her skin. “For what it’s worth, I think it’s their loss. Those women who turned you down.”

He clenched his jaw against the unwelcome curiosity, the fragile hope that perked its head up at her soft words. “Why?”

She was in front of him, so close he could feel the heat of her skin, and she tilted her head back so he could meet her eyes. Those dark, glittering eyes that were shining with a mixture of compassion and understanding and feral hunger. “Because when I look at you, I see a kind man who had a hard start in life and had to protect himself. I see a man who wants to take his own sexuality into his hands and that’s downright sexy.”

He didn’t reply. Couldn’t. There were no words in his mind as he stared down at her. What could one say in this scenario anyone? Thank you for finding my forty-eight-year-old ass being a virgin sexy?

“So I know you’re a virgin, but what’s the farthest you’ve gone?” she asked as she slowly, oh so slowly, painstakingly slowly, rested a hand on his chest. Just her fingertips, barely a touch, but it was enough to send his blood racing like she’d grabbed his dick.

Heat filled his face, burning-hot, as he stared at her fingers right above his nipple, feeling the pounding of his racing heart no doubt. Her long nails were painted black and the lacquer was chipped in a few places, and he could see the natural nail beneath. Those nails looked like they’d be heaven scratching at his back or maybe running over his scalp.

“Eddie-baby.” Her knee knocked his, nudged his leg away so she could slot her thigh between his. The heat through her yoga pants was heavenly, and more heavenly was the pressure against his filled, throbbing cock. His breath stuttered in his throat as she pressed him for information, her voice husky and firm. “Need you with me. Tell me: have you kissed anyone before?”

He seriously contemplated just not answering but realized quickly there was no point in being coy about his experience—or lack there of.

Letting his head fall back against the wall and ignoring the quick sharp stab of pain, he reluctantly replied, “No.”

“Have you done anything?”

From anyone else, it would’ve sounded incredulous, maybe even mocking depending on who was saying it, but she sounded only curious.

When he peeked at her, her expression was calm, impassive, save for those shining, near-black eyes, filled with warmth and a softness he didn’t think he’d ever had directed at him.

“I…” he rasped, his voice thick and slow, tongue heavy in his mouth, “…haven’t.” A heartbeat, his tongue wetting his dry lips. “At all. Nothing.”

Savannah didn’t reply for a long time, simply stood there with him, her hand still covering his heart, her face angled down.

“You poor thing,” she murmured finally, her words soft, striking a chord somewhere in the pit of his tense, churning belly. Her voice was low and seductive, weakening his knees just enough that he had to lean against the wall to stay upright. “Poor baby hasn’t even been kissed.”

Suddenly, she was against him, her breasts mashed to his chest, her fingers finding the neckline of his T-shirt. Suddenly, she was on her tip toes, reaching for him, her eyes hungry and bedroom-y. Suddenly, she was all he could feel and smell, that intoxicating aroma of hers clouding his air supply.

“Can I kiss you, Eddie-baby? Want me to be your first kiss?” she whispered gently, cajoling, and he fucking whimpered as his cock throbbed painfully at her words, at her sultry tone, the invitation.

“P-please,” he rasped, uncaring of how pathetic and needy and wet he sounded, “please, k-kiss me. I want it. Need it.”

And so she did.

#bunny's writing #bunny writes #my writing #eddie munson smut

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