svynie

[svynie]

i think there’s a new way minors r participating in nsfw spaces. in the past two days ive seen two blogs that gave off the same vibe. the first one was a dark content blog, the writer stating they’re 51 with a bio saying they have dementia and r a grandma. today i saw another dark content blog but with the age 41 and a similar bio saying they have dementia and r a grandma. i think it’s too coincidental, so if anyone comes across those blogs BEWARE these two blogs were jjk centric

REPORT/BLOCK @/GOSPELICA

PLEASE REBLOG THIS FOR VISIBILITY.

minor posing as adult and posting nsfw/dc content , no MDNI RULE — please report for sexually explicit content, etc! DO NOT ENCOURAGE THEM, SEND ASKS, ETC.

oh my god i’ve literally seen them. i just realized what they meant ,,, 15 and 14 are backwards cus they have dementia.

it would be greatly appreciated if you could drop usernames if you still know them!! thank you hun :>

nonnie thank you so much for sharing as they have gained a lot of attention despite only starting writing a week or two ago. this is why it’s so important to check followers, likes, & rbs for minors/blank pages normally, as more attention will only encourage and motivate these people into continue writing, or fake their age.

although it is not the responsibilities as writers to constantly monitor minors and educate them on internet safety, the most we can do as greater platform-havers is to report / block influencing accounts when we can!

developing an interest in dc and unhealthy habits for intimacy is so dangerous for children i can’t even begin to fathom what they must’ve gone through before they decided to begin writing. these habits are fueled by months/years of community engagement / grooming ETC

please b wary, writing friends!!

[svynie]

This Year.. Maybe

Chapter 3: May 8, Fourth Year — Tea, Tension and A Touch of Chaos

5YN0PSIS: The classroom erupts into a whirlwind of ideas, from water guns to strength contests, as festival planning spirals into chaos. With no clear direction in sight, tensions rise and laughter echoes—but just as the noise reaches its peak, a calm yet commanding presence steps in, leaving behind a ripple of unspoken tension.

TAGS: KAZUHA X READER... not yet, awkward conversations, SLOW BURNN, angst, one-sided (or is it?), ITTO APPEARS!! and another person... 3RD+2ND POV, USE OF Y/N, modern au, classic itto shenanigans

W.C: 3.5K

A/N: this chapter won’t cover the full chaos of the Mid-Year Festival itself, it's all about the planning stage for now. If I end up with too many ideas for the prep work, I might split it into its own chapter. so the original plan of the 3rd chapter being the mid-year festival may be separated in 3 parts..

The morning light streamed through the windows of Class 4-B as Kazuha walked in, his bag casually slung over one shoulder. The familiar sounds—of soft laughter, rustling of bags and the occasional scraping of chairs against the floor—greeted him.

Kazuha made his way to his desk by the window, the spot he had selfishly assigned himself a month ago.

It wasn’t just because he enjoyed the view or the natural light that was perfect for writing—it was also because it was beside [Y/N]

Sliding into his seat, he let his bag drop to the floor as he opened his notebook.

Today would be the planning meeting for a mid-year festival.

Kazuha tapped his pen lightly against his notebook, his mind already buzzing with ideas.

But would any of them resonate or even impress [Y/N]?

He glanced to the side, where [Y/N]’s seat was empty.

They weren’t late—they never were.

They had a habit of arriving right before the bell rang, something Kazuha had noticed far too well, a detail Heizou never lets him forget

“KAZUHAAAA” Speaking of Heizou…

Heizou’s singsong voice interrupted his thoughts as he plopped down into the seat in front of him. “You look awfully serious for someone who’s composing haikus… instead of actual festival plans.”

Kazuha sighed, closing his notebook. “Well, good morning to you too, Heizou. I look serious because I am thinking of actual ideas for the meeting. Unlike some people…”

“Oh? But I DO take it seriously,” Heizou replied, crossing his arms dramatically. “So, are you planning to contribute to today’s meeting or just cause trouble like usual?” Kazuha asked, with a raise of his eyebrows. “Trouble? ME?? I'm offended Kazu...” Heizou grinned, pulling a small kit out of his bag. Inside were what looked like harmless props—fake bugs, disappearing ink, and something that suspiciously resembles a whoopee cushion. “You can’t be serious”

“But I am!” Heizou’s grin widened but before he can continue, the classroom door swung open, and Yoimiya bounced in with her energy immediately lighting up the space. “HEIZOUU!!” she called out, her voice brimming with excitement. “Ahh! And good morning, Kazuha!” “Good morning, Yoimiya,” Kazuha said politely. 

Her energy was almost overwhelming… this early in the day, he thought.

Yoimiya grabbed a chair, spun it around and sat on it. “Soooo what’s the topic today?? Something… festival-y? Oh and Heizou! Did you bring the stuff?”

Heizou held up the kid proudly. “Right here.”

“GREAT! We’ve got work to do.. Kazuha! You’re not gonna ban this idea right?? Imagine the laughs it’ll get!!”

Kazuha pinched the bridge of his nose. “As class president, I am obligated to encourage ideas that foster collaboration and creativity… not chaos.”

“Chaos is creativity.” Yoimiya quickly argued.

Before the conversation could escalate, Tomo and Shinobu entered the room together, their voices a calm counterpoint to Yoimiya’s. Shinobu carried a stack of papers neatly clipped together, her no-nonsense expressions contrasting sharply with Tomo’s easygoing smile.

“Kazuha.” Shinobu said with a curt nod. “Good morning. We’ll need to finalize the budget after today’s meeting.” “Of course,” Kazuha replied, returning her nod. “Morning!” Tomo chimed in, sliding into the seat beside Heizou. “What’s all this talk about chaos? Are we planning a festival or a disaster?” “Both.” Heizou and Yoimiya said in unison.

Shinobu sighed, shaking her head. “Let's just try to stay on task today, alright? Mr. Takahashi is expecting us to make actual progress.” “Don’t worry, Shinobu!” Tomo said, grinning. “We’ve got this under control… probably.” Kazuha exhaled, letting the chatter wash over him. It was shaping up to be a lively  day.

As the classroom began to fill with students, the usual buzz of the early morning was suddenly interrupted by a booming voice.. “YOO!!! IT’S FESTIVAL TIME, BABYY!!” 

The door swings open with dramatic force, revealing Itto’s beaming face. His energy is enough to make even the sleepiest students groan.

The surprising part wasn’t his grand entrance…

It was that he was on time.

“Itto… you’re actually here before the bell??” Yoimiya asked, voice tinged with disbelief

“Is it snowing.. Or did Itto actually make it to class on time!?” Heizou quipped, earning chuckles from the surrounding students. “Well, that's a surprise… ” murmurs Shinobu, glancing over at Tomo with a raised eyebrow. “Miracles do happen,” Tomo replies wryly, shaking his head with an amused chuckle as Itto’s boisterous laugh echoes around the room.

“Laugh all you want Heizou, but this year’s festival is gonna be epic thanks to yours truly!” Itto declared as he strides confidently inside the room, dramatically twirling before taking his seat.

Then the bell rings, everyone quickly quiets down, turning toward the front.

As if on cue, Mr. Takahashi walks in, his expression calm but purposeful. He raises his hand to silence the last few lingering whispers. “Alright, class, let’s get to work.”

His voice was steady and his manner was at a no-nonsense despite his usual friendly and joking disposition.  “This will be a critical week for our school festival preparations. Let's make sure we leave a lasting impression, not only on the school but on each other.” Kazuha, who has been sitting quietly at his desk, exchanges a short glance with [Y/N], who had just arrived and sat at their seat beside him. A brief flutter in his chest, he felt a rush of warmth but he’s quick to push the feeling down. 

He takes a breath and then nods at Mr. Takahashi, who motions for him to take the lead as he left the class, presumably to a meeting with other teachers.

With ease, Kazuha steps forward, standing in front of the class, his expression calm. The murmurs died down once again as he opened the discussion

“This year’s festival,” Kazuha begins, his tone steady but carrying an unmistakable earnestness, “is more than just a chance to impress. It’s an opportunity for us to build something that we can all be proud of—something that now only showcases our talents, but also our unity. Let's make it meaningful!”

The brainstorming session begins almost immediately, the room coming alive with enthusiasm. “I’ve got the perfect idea!” Yoimiya burst out, hand shooting up as she was practically bouncing in her seat. “A mystery maze with tons of surprises!”

Kazuha raised an eyebrow, tapping his pen. “What kind of surprises?” he asked, a hint of curiosity in his tone. Without missing a beat, Yoimiya whipped a water gun out of her bag and aimed it at Heizou. “Like this one!” she grinned, shooting a stream of water directly at him.

Heizou’s eyes widened just in time to feel the cold spray. “What the-” he sputtered, jumping out of his seat, shirt completely soaked. “Yoimiya you menace!” Heizou said, while wiping his face with a dramatic flair. 

The class erupted into laughter, some clutching their stomachs from the unexpected prank.

“You’ve got to be kidding me..” Heizou mutters, trying to wring out his shirt. “You traitor.”

Yoimiya simply grins wider, clearly fazed. “Hey, it's all in the name of fun! What better way to get people talking than a little mystery..! And some water…”

“I guess that’s one way to keep us on our toes..” Heizou said, shaking his head in amusement. “But don’t think I’ll let this slide! Me and my prank kit will be waiting for you to fall in our little trap..!” Yoimiya rolled her eyes while she giggled, clearly still pleased with herself. “See?? It’ll be filled with all kinds of surprises!!"

Kazuha sighed, though there was a playful glint in his eyes. “I’m not sure ‘surprise’ is the word I would use..” He raised his eyebrows, trying to keep a straight face as he glanced at Heizou, who was now half-drenched in water.

Though, Yoimiya’s enthusiasm doesn't seem to be the only thing that’s booming in the room..

Before anyone can add anything else, Itto, who had been sitting quietly with his arms crossed, suddenly slams his hand down on the desk with a loud

BANG!

..Drawing everyone’s attention.

“HOLDD ON A SECOND!!” Itto’s voice rang out.

“We NEED something way more INTENSE THAN THIS. Forget water balloons, I’m talking about a real test of strength!” He sits up straight, his usual grin wide as ever. “How about a strength competition? Arm-wrestling, boulder-lifting contests—let’s see who got the power to win!!”

Shinobu, who had been absentmindedly taking notes on the topic, finally looks up, her gaze sharp. “Uh, we’re supposed to be showcasing creativity, not strength.” she points out dryly, clearly not impressed by Itto’s suggestion. “If we’re doing a festival, there’s no need to make it into a gym session..”

But Itto’s determination remained undeterred, his grin only growing wider “Pfft, who said we can’t have both?” he counters, completely ignoring Shinobu’s criticism. “Strength and creativity go hand in hand! You gotta have the power to be creative!! Plus, I’m the one who’s gonna win anywaaays, so you guys better prepare!!” He flexes his muscles dramatically for emphasis,  earning a few chuckles from the class.

The playful banter catches Yoimiya’s attention, and she leans back in her chair, raising an eyebrow. “Really? A Strength competition?” She crosses her arms, her expression turning smug. “My mystery maze would get waaaaaaaaaaaay more attention than your ‘muscle festival’! People don’t come for boulders and arm-wrestling. They come for surprises!”

Itto snorts, clearly unamused. “A maze? Are you kidding? That's your idea of entertainment?” He leans back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest as if to mock Yoimiya. “Naaaah, mine’s gonna be the main event! Everyone’s gonna want to see who’s the strongest!! Not who can navigate some over-complicated maze..”

Yoimiya rolls her eyes dramatically, flicking a lock of hair out of her face. “Strongest huh? Suuuuree, because everyone just loves seeing a bunch of sweaty guys trying to lift rocks..”

She gives him a  teasing, almost mocking smile. “Maybee, we’ll have a rock-lifting station for your fans after MY MAZE STEALS THE SHOW.”

Itto’s jaw tightens, his eyes narrowing. “You’re really underestimating me… People love seeing power on display! You think they’ll care about running around a maze, getting wet for fun? Think again!”

The argument between Yoimiya and Itto soon escalates.. With both clearly unwilling to back down. The class watches with mixed expressions, some enjoying the back-and-forths, others just shaking their head..

Kazuha, who has been observing quietly, clears his throat, effectively cutting through the growing tension. “Alright.. Alright, both ideas do have merit, but let’s try to hear a few other suggestions before we start getting too carried away,” he suggests, his voice calm yet carrying an authoritative edge.

The room falls into a brief yet awkward silence as everyone looks at Kazuha then to someone who had been seated near the door..

Ayaka, who hadn’t been paying as much attention… until now. The sudden rise in eyes looking at her had caught her off guard. She blinks, her face flushing pink with surprise at the attention now on her.

“Oh! Uh..” she stammers, clearly embarrassed. “Maybe.. We could have a tea booth of sorts? A place to relax and refresh, something more peaceful in the middle of all the excitement?” Her voice soft as she tries to put forward her idea.

Shinobu perked up, nodding. “I like that idea. It’d be perfect for people who need a break from all the excitement. We could even decorate it with fairy lights or plants.”

Itto groaned dramatically, throwing his hands up. “BORINGG!!” A study corner at a festival?? Why not just hand out pillows and call it a nap room?

Before he could continue, Shinobu smacked the back of his head with a book “Be quiet, Itto. Not everyone’s looking for chaos and noise.”

Itto rubbed the back of his idea, pouting. “Fine… fine, but if most of the students end up sleeping, don't say I didn't warn you!”

The class erupted into laughter once more, now each voice vying to be heard over the other quickly turning the classroom into chaos.

And amid everything, Kazuha stood quietly, listening to the lively exchange as fingers absentmindedly traced his notebook. He watched as Yoimiya waved her water gun around, showering Heizou again in a sudden burst of water, Itto jumping in with the same usual booming voice to pitch his idea. Shinobu, exasperated but amused while Ayaka and Kirara watched everything quietly..

Kazuha’s mind wandered, he glanced in your direction. You were watching the others argue, a faint smile tugging at your lips as if the sherry absurdity of it all amused you.

Kazuha’s gaze lingered for a moment longer than intended, and a memory surfaced—a conversation you’d had not long ago. You had spoken about your hobby of doing art.

The memory of your enthusiasm stirred something in him, and before he could overthink, an idea formed.

He cleared his throat, hoping to catch the class’s attention. “What about an art gallery?“ He said, his voice steady but carrying just enough weight to momentarily cut through.

The room quieted as heads turned in his direction, and Kazuha felt his pulse quicken. Despite his serene exterior, he was suddenly aware of the weight of their gazes—and yours.

“We could create a space where students can showcase their creativity,” he continued, keeping his tone steady. “Paintings, photography, crafts, even poetry! It could be something that encourages people to express themselves“

The silence that followed his suggestion stretched uncomfortably long.

His idea hung in the air, seemingly unnoticed as some exchanged hesitant glances. Kazuha’s calm demeanor didn’t waver, but a faint warmth crept up his neck. His fingers resumed their slow tracing along the edge of his notebook, grounding him as his thoughts swirled.

Did I misread the room? Was it too plain? He wondered, stealing a glance in your direction. To his dismay, you were looking at him, your expression contemplative.

Embarrassed, Kazuha quickly looked away, his hand stilling as he forced himself to remain composed. 

Finally the silence broke—not with acknowledgement, but with Itto’s voice reigniting the earlier debate.

“No way a maze is better than my strength competition” Itto barked, through the awkward atmosphere with his usual brashness.

“Your competition doesn’t even make sense” Yoimiya shot back, “Who’s going to want to watch people lift boulders for fun??”

“Lots of people!! EVERYONE loves boulders!”

“Name one person,” Shinobu said, smacking the back of his head again. “Other than you”

Kazuha slid onto the teacher’s chair, feeling the heat of embarrassment fade into a cooler more.. Detached resignation.

He glanced at you again, hoping for some sign that you’d at least considered his suggestion. But your attention was now focused on the escalating argument, leaving him to sit in quiet frustration.

The tension in the room grew as Yoimiya and Itto continued bickering, Heizou joining in with his dry remarks about logistics..

The conversation devolved into a chaotic back-and-forth, and no one seemed willing—or able—to bring it back on track. Kazuha thought about trying to interject again, but his earlier embarrassment held him back.

He folded his hand in his lap, his expression calm but his mind racing with thoughts of how he could have worded his suggestion better—or perhaps even better… kept quiet.

The air felt heavy, the awkwardness palpable despite the lively banter. 

Just as Kazuha was about to resign himself to sitting quietly for the rest of the meeting, the classroom door opened, and Ayato stepped in.

His entrance was sudden yet smooth, his sharp gaze sweeping over the room as he took in the scene—Yoimiya waving her water gun, Itto gesturing wildly, and Shinobu pinching the bridge of her nose in visible frustration. 

Despite having graduated from the school a year ago, Ayato often returned to assist with events, particularly festival planning, given his reputation for strategic thinking and refined tastes. His role as a special consultant for the Student Council made his appearances occasional yet impactful

With an almost imperceptible smile, Ayato clapped his hands once, the sound cutting cleanly through the noise

“Alright everyone,” he said in a firm yet calm voice, immediately commanding attention. “Let’s settle down. I see we have no shortage of creative ideas, but we seem to be lacking a clear direction.”

As Ayato entered and spoke, Ayaka froze mid-thought, her eyes widening in surprise. “Br- Brother?!” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper while she clasped her hands nervously.

Ayato smiled warmly at his sister, his calm demeanor putting her slightly at ease. “I was passing by on my way to check on the festival’s overall progress.. And heard quite the commotion,” he said, glancing around the room. “It seem you really are all overflowing ideas” Ayaka nodded, trying to compose herself. “Yes, we’ve been discussing potential themes. There are so many wonderful ideas but..” Her gaze dropped to the floor, her voice faltering slightly. “It’s a bit hard to decide.” “Then perhaps I can help,” Ayato said, his sharp gaze softening as he looked at her. “Ayaka you mentioned a relaxing booth earlier didn’t you?” “Ah yes!” Ayaka quickly responded followed by a nod.

“And Kazuha proposed an art gallery…”  As Ayato continued speaking, his eyes swept over the room, pausing momentarily on Kazuha and then on [Y/N]. 

It was subtle, but the faintest hint of a knowing smile tugged at his lips. 

His voice maintained its usual composure as he turned back to Kazuha. “An art gallery paired with tea, don’t you think it has a certain elegance to it? A perfect opportunity to showcase talents while offering a serene atmosphere.”

Kazuha, ever perceptive, caught the fleeting glance between Ayato and [Y/N]. For just a split second, your eyes seemed to brighten at the suggestion, lips curling into a smile of approval.

That subtle change, so simple yet so radiant, sent an unexpected twinge through Kazuha’s chest.

He averted his face, his hand brushing a strand of fair from his face in an attempt to steady himself. 

Why does it bother me? He wondered silently. It’s just Ayato being his usual self.. Right?

But the way Ayato’s words seemed to resonate with [Y/N], and the faint amusement lingering in his expression, unsettled Kazuha in a way he couldn’t quite explain.

“Indeed” Kazuha replied, his voice steady despite the slight tightness in his chest. “It’s an amazing idea, blending art and tea… I’m sure most of us would agree.” He glanced towards [Y/N], his tone carefully neutral, as if daring to confirm what he already suspected.

[Y/N] nodded enthusiastically.

Ayato chuckled softly, his gaze turning back to Kazuha, as if gauging his reaction. “I thought so. I’ve always believed the best ideas come from collaboration.”

He clasped his hands together. “And who better to bring the vision to life than talented individuals like you and [Y/N]?’

Kazuha’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly at Ayato’s choice of words.

The former Student Council President had an effortless charm, one that clearly captivated everyone in the room—including [Y/N]. 

Meanwhile, Ayaka’s blush deepened at her brother’s encouragement, though she was still too flustered to notice the subtle undercurrents in the room. “Ah- Thank you Ayato..” she managed to say.

Ayato chuckled once more. “It's nothing, Ayaka. After all, a Kamisato should always strive to enrich the lives of others! I’m sure you’ll make it a memorable experience

Meanwhile, at the back of the room, the banter continued unabated.

“Though.. It’s still a mystery why you think boulder-lifting is creative, Itto.” Yoimiya teased with a sly grin. “What’s next? A rock stacking competition? An Okinabuto wrestling competition? Though I will admit, it’d be hilarious to watch you drop a rock on your foot.” “Hey! Don't diss the rocks nor my bugs!!” Itto shot back, puffing his chest out. “Plus, you’d be surprised how much skill it takes to stack boulders.” Heizou leaned back in his chair with a smirk. “It’s not really… the boulders we’re questing. It’s about your ability to stack anything without knocking it over.” “OH HOHO, that’s RICH coming from the guy who can’t even dodge a water gun!” Itto retorted, pointing at Heizou.

Shinobu, clearly at her wit’s end, sighed deeply and crossed her arms. “You’re all impossible.. Yoimiya, dont even think about shooting that things again.”

She then gave Itto a sharp look. “And you—stop encouraging her.” Yoimiya held up the water gun innocently and spun it in her hand, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Me? I would neveeeer…” “Oh not again..” Heizou muttered, sliding his chair further back as if anticipating another spray.

Itto laughed boisterously to which Shinobu shot back, “Close your mouth Itto.. not everyone has your brain-to-brawn ratio.” “Brain-to-brawn ratio..?? Is that supposed to be an insult or a compliment?” Itto scratched his head, visibly confused.

“It’s definitely an insult,” Heizou chimed smugly from… across the room.. Far, far away from Yoimiya.. Earning an exaggerated gasp from Itto.

As the laughter and teasing continued in the room, Ayato stepped closer to Kazuha, his tone low enough to not be overheard. “You should be careful, Kazuha,” he said with a teasing lilt. “If you don’t make your move soon, someone else might.” Kazuha turned towards Ayato sharply, his eyes betraying his usual composed expression. A flicker of surprise—and just a hint of jealousy. “I appreciate your advice Ayato,” he replied, his voice low but firm. “But some things are worth waiting for.” Ayato simply smiled, patting Kazuha’s shoulder before stepping back to address the class once more.

“Now then, let’s channel this lively energy into making the festival unforgettable, shall we?”

kazuha fanart made by @/Dilyakum_ on twt

TAGLIST: @danhenglovebot, @milkteeboba, @3amstoryreader

all writing belongs to me (@svynie) do not repost without my explicit permission, translate or plagiarize.

[svynie]

This Year.. Maybe

Chapter 3: May 8, Fourth Year — Tea, Tension and A Touch of Chaos

5YN0PSIS: The classroom erupts into a whirlwind of ideas, from water guns to strength contests, as festival planning spirals into chaos. With no clear direction in sight, tensions rise and laughter echoes—but just as the noise reaches its peak, a calm yet commanding presence steps in, leaving behind a ripple of unspoken tension.

TAGS: KAZUHA X READER... not yet, awkward conversations, SLOW BURNN, angst, one-sided (or is it?), ITTO APPEARS!! and another person... 3RD+2ND POV, USE OF Y/N, modern au, classic itto shenanigans

W.C: 3.5K

A/N: this chapter won’t cover the full chaos of the Mid-Year Festival itself, it's all about the planning stage for now. If I end up with too many ideas for the prep work, I might split it into its own chapter. so the original plan of the 3rd chapter being the mid-year festival may be separated in 3 parts..

The morning light streamed through the windows of Class 4-B as Kazuha walked in, his bag casually slung over one shoulder. The familiar sounds—of soft laughter, rustling of bags and the occasional scraping of chairs against the floor—greeted him.

Kazuha made his way to his desk by the window, the spot he had selfishly assigned himself a month ago.

It wasn’t just because he enjoyed the view or the natural light that was perfect for writing—it was also because it was beside [Y/N]

Sliding into his seat, he let his bag drop to the floor as he opened his notebook.

Today would be the planning meeting for a mid-year festival.

Kazuha tapped his pen lightly against his notebook, his mind already buzzing with ideas.

But would any of them resonate or even impress [Y/N]?

He glanced to the side, where [Y/N]’s seat was empty.

They weren’t late—they never were.

They had a habit of arriving right before the bell rang, something Kazuha had noticed far too well, a detail Heizou never lets him forget

“KAZUHAAAA” Speaking of Heizou…

Heizou’s singsong voice interrupted his thoughts as he plopped down into the seat in front of him. “You look awfully serious for someone who’s composing haikus… instead of actual festival plans.”

Kazuha sighed, closing his notebook. “Well, good morning to you too, Heizou. I look serious because I am thinking of actual ideas for the meeting. Unlike some people…”

“Oh? But I DO take it seriously,” Heizou replied, crossing his arms dramatically. “So, are you planning to contribute to today’s meeting or just cause trouble like usual?” Kazuha asked, with a raise of his eyebrows. “Trouble? ME?? I'm offended Kazu...” Heizou grinned, pulling a small kit out of his bag. Inside were what looked like harmless props—fake bugs, disappearing ink, and something that suspiciously resembles a whoopee cushion. “You can’t be serious”

“But I am!” Heizou’s grin widened but before he can continue, the classroom door swung open, and Yoimiya bounced in with her energy immediately lighting up the space. “HEIZOUU!!” she called out, her voice brimming with excitement. “Ahh! And good morning, Kazuha!” “Good morning, Yoimiya,” Kazuha said politely. 

Her energy was almost overwhelming… this early in the day, he thought.

Yoimiya grabbed a chair, spun it around and sat on it. “Soooo what’s the topic today?? Something… festival-y? Oh and Heizou! Did you bring the stuff?”

Heizou held up the kid proudly. “Right here.”

“GREAT! We’ve got work to do.. Kazuha! You’re not gonna ban this idea right?? Imagine the laughs it’ll get!!”

Kazuha pinched the bridge of his nose. “As class president, I am obligated to encourage ideas that foster collaboration and creativity… not chaos.”

“Chaos is creativity.” Yoimiya quickly argued.

Before the conversation could escalate, Tomo and Shinobu entered the room together, their voices a calm counterpoint to Yoimiya’s. Shinobu carried a stack of papers neatly clipped together, her no-nonsense expressions contrasting sharply with Tomo’s easygoing smile.

“Kazuha.” Shinobu said with a curt nod. “Good morning. We’ll need to finalize the budget after today’s meeting.” “Of course,” Kazuha replied, returning her nod. “Morning!” Tomo chimed in, sliding into the seat beside Heizou. “What’s all this talk about chaos? Are we planning a festival or a disaster?” “Both.” Heizou and Yoimiya said in unison.

Shinobu sighed, shaking her head. “Let's just try to stay on task today, alright? Mr. Takahashi is expecting us to make actual progress.” “Don’t worry, Shinobu!” Tomo said, grinning. “We’ve got this under control… probably.” Kazuha exhaled, letting the chatter wash over him. It was shaping up to be a lively  day.

As the classroom began to fill with students, the usual buzz of the early morning was suddenly interrupted by a booming voice.. “YOO!!! IT’S FESTIVAL TIME, BABYY!!” 

The door swings open with dramatic force, revealing Itto’s beaming face. His energy is enough to make even the sleepiest students groan.

The surprising part wasn’t his grand entrance…

It was that he was on time.

“Itto… you’re actually here before the bell??” Yoimiya asked, voice tinged with disbelief

“Is it snowing.. Or did Itto actually make it to class on time!?” Heizou quipped, earning chuckles from the surrounding students. “Well, that's a surprise… ” murmurs Shinobu, glancing over at Tomo with a raised eyebrow. “Miracles do happen,” Tomo replies wryly, shaking his head with an amused chuckle as Itto’s boisterous laugh echoes around the room.

“Laugh all you want Heizou, but this year’s festival is gonna be epic thanks to yours truly!” Itto declared as he strides confidently inside the room, dramatically twirling before taking his seat.

Then the bell rings, everyone quickly quiets down, turning toward the front.

As if on cue, Mr. Takahashi walks in, his expression calm but purposeful. He raises his hand to silence the last few lingering whispers. “Alright, class, let’s get to work.”

His voice was steady and his manner was at a no-nonsense despite his usual friendly and joking disposition.  “This will be a critical week for our school festival preparations. Let's make sure we leave a lasting impression, not only on the school but on each other.” Kazuha, who has been sitting quietly at his desk, exchanges a short glance with [Y/N], who had just arrived and sat at their seat beside him. A brief flutter in his chest, he felt a rush of warmth but he’s quick to push the feeling down. 

He takes a breath and then nods at Mr. Takahashi, who motions for him to take the lead as he left the class, presumably to a meeting with other teachers.

With ease, Kazuha steps forward, standing in front of the class, his expression calm. The murmurs died down once again as he opened the discussion

“This year’s festival,” Kazuha begins, his tone steady but carrying an unmistakable earnestness, “is more than just a chance to impress. It’s an opportunity for us to build something that we can all be proud of—something that now only showcases our talents, but also our unity. Let's make it meaningful!”

The brainstorming session begins almost immediately, the room coming alive with enthusiasm. “I’ve got the perfect idea!” Yoimiya burst out, hand shooting up as she was practically bouncing in her seat. “A mystery maze with tons of surprises!”

Kazuha raised an eyebrow, tapping his pen. “What kind of surprises?” he asked, a hint of curiosity in his tone. Without missing a beat, Yoimiya whipped a water gun out of her bag and aimed it at Heizou. “Like this one!” she grinned, shooting a stream of water directly at him.

Heizou’s eyes widened just in time to feel the cold spray. “What the-” he sputtered, jumping out of his seat, shirt completely soaked. “Yoimiya you menace!” Heizou said, while wiping his face with a dramatic flair. 

The class erupted into laughter, some clutching their stomachs from the unexpected prank.

“You’ve got to be kidding me..” Heizou mutters, trying to wring out his shirt. “You traitor.”

Yoimiya simply grins wider, clearly fazed. “Hey, it's all in the name of fun! What better way to get people talking than a little mystery..! And some water…”

“I guess that’s one way to keep us on our toes..” Heizou said, shaking his head in amusement. “But don’t think I’ll let this slide! Me and my prank kit will be waiting for you to fall in our little trap..!” Yoimiya rolled her eyes while she giggled, clearly still pleased with herself. “See?? It’ll be filled with all kinds of surprises!!"

Kazuha sighed, though there was a playful glint in his eyes. “I’m not sure ‘surprise’ is the word I would use..” He raised his eyebrows, trying to keep a straight face as he glanced at Heizou, who was now half-drenched in water.

Though, Yoimiya’s enthusiasm doesn't seem to be the only thing that’s booming in the room..

Before anyone can add anything else, Itto, who had been sitting quietly with his arms crossed, suddenly slams his hand down on the desk with a loud

BANG!

..Drawing everyone’s attention.

“HOLDD ON A SECOND!!” Itto’s voice rang out.

“We NEED something way more INTENSE THAN THIS. Forget water balloons, I’m talking about a real test of strength!” He sits up straight, his usual grin wide as ever. “How about a strength competition? Arm-wrestling, boulder-lifting contests—let’s see who got the power to win!!”

Shinobu, who had been absentmindedly taking notes on the topic, finally looks up, her gaze sharp. “Uh, we’re supposed to be showcasing creativity, not strength.” she points out dryly, clearly not impressed by Itto’s suggestion. “If we’re doing a festival, there’s no need to make it into a gym session..”

But Itto’s determination remained undeterred, his grin only growing wider “Pfft, who said we can’t have both?” he counters, completely ignoring Shinobu’s criticism. “Strength and creativity go hand in hand! You gotta have the power to be creative!! Plus, I’m the one who’s gonna win anywaaays, so you guys better prepare!!” He flexes his muscles dramatically for emphasis,  earning a few chuckles from the class.

The playful banter catches Yoimiya’s attention, and she leans back in her chair, raising an eyebrow. “Really? A Strength competition?” She crosses her arms, her expression turning smug. “My mystery maze would get waaaaaaaaaaaay more attention than your ‘muscle festival’! People don’t come for boulders and arm-wrestling. They come for surprises!”

Itto snorts, clearly unamused. “A maze? Are you kidding? That's your idea of entertainment?” He leans back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest as if to mock Yoimiya. “Naaaah, mine’s gonna be the main event! Everyone’s gonna want to see who’s the strongest!! Not who can navigate some over-complicated maze..”

Yoimiya rolls her eyes dramatically, flicking a lock of hair out of her face. “Strongest huh? Suuuuree, because everyone just loves seeing a bunch of sweaty guys trying to lift rocks..”

She gives him a  teasing, almost mocking smile. “Maybee, we’ll have a rock-lifting station for your fans after MY MAZE STEALS THE SHOW.”

Itto’s jaw tightens, his eyes narrowing. “You’re really underestimating me… People love seeing power on display! You think they’ll care about running around a maze, getting wet for fun? Think again!”

The argument between Yoimiya and Itto soon escalates.. With both clearly unwilling to back down. The class watches with mixed expressions, some enjoying the back-and-forths, others just shaking their head..

Kazuha, who has been observing quietly, clears his throat, effectively cutting through the growing tension. “Alright.. Alright, both ideas do have merit, but let’s try to hear a few other suggestions before we start getting too carried away,” he suggests, his voice calm yet carrying an authoritative edge.

The room falls into a brief yet awkward silence as everyone looks at Kazuha then to someone who had been seated near the door..

Ayaka, who hadn’t been paying as much attention… until now. The sudden rise in eyes looking at her had caught her off guard. She blinks, her face flushing pink with surprise at the attention now on her.

“Oh! Uh..” she stammers, clearly embarrassed. “Maybe.. We could have a tea booth of sorts? A place to relax and refresh, something more peaceful in the middle of all the excitement?” Her voice soft as she tries to put forward her idea.

Shinobu perked up, nodding. “I like that idea. It’d be perfect for people who need a break from all the excitement. We could even decorate it with fairy lights or plants.”

Itto groaned dramatically, throwing his hands up. “BORINGG!!” A study corner at a festival?? Why not just hand out pillows and call it a nap room?

Before he could continue, Shinobu smacked the back of his head with a book “Be quiet, Itto. Not everyone’s looking for chaos and noise.”

Itto rubbed the back of his idea, pouting. “Fine… fine, but if most of the students end up sleeping, don't say I didn't warn you!”

The class erupted into laughter once more, now each voice vying to be heard over the other quickly turning the classroom into chaos.

And amid everything, Kazuha stood quietly, listening to the lively exchange as fingers absentmindedly traced his notebook. He watched as Yoimiya waved her water gun around, showering Heizou again in a sudden burst of water, Itto jumping in with the same usual booming voice to pitch his idea. Shinobu, exasperated but amused while Ayaka and Kirara watched everything quietly..

Kazuha’s mind wandered, he glanced in your direction. You were watching the others argue, a faint smile tugging at your lips as if the sherry absurdity of it all amused you.

Kazuha’s gaze lingered for a moment longer than intended, and a memory surfaced—a conversation you’d had not long ago. You had spoken about your hobby of doing art.

The memory of your enthusiasm stirred something in him, and before he could overthink, an idea formed.

He cleared his throat, hoping to catch the class’s attention. “What about an art gallery?“ He said, his voice steady but carrying just enough weight to momentarily cut through.

The room quieted as heads turned in his direction, and Kazuha felt his pulse quicken. Despite his serene exterior, he was suddenly aware of the weight of their gazes—and yours.

“We could create a space where students can showcase their creativity,” he continued, keeping his tone steady. “Paintings, photography, crafts, even poetry! It could be something that encourages people to express themselves“

The silence that followed his suggestion stretched uncomfortably long.

His idea hung in the air, seemingly unnoticed as some exchanged hesitant glances. Kazuha’s calm demeanor didn’t waver, but a faint warmth crept up his neck. His fingers resumed their slow tracing along the edge of his notebook, grounding him as his thoughts swirled.

Did I misread the room? Was it too plain? He wondered, stealing a glance in your direction. To his dismay, you were looking at him, your expression contemplative.

Embarrassed, Kazuha quickly looked away, his hand stilling as he forced himself to remain composed. 

Finally the silence broke—not with acknowledgement, but with Itto’s voice reigniting the earlier debate.

“No way a maze is better than my strength competition” Itto barked, through the awkward atmosphere with his usual brashness.

“Your competition doesn’t even make sense” Yoimiya shot back, “Who’s going to want to watch people lift boulders for fun??”

“Lots of people!! EVERYONE loves boulders!”

“Name one person,” Shinobu said, smacking the back of his head again. “Other than you”

Kazuha slid onto the teacher’s chair, feeling the heat of embarrassment fade into a cooler more.. Detached resignation.

He glanced at you again, hoping for some sign that you’d at least considered his suggestion. But your attention was now focused on the escalating argument, leaving him to sit in quiet frustration.

The tension in the room grew as Yoimiya and Itto continued bickering, Heizou joining in with his dry remarks about logistics..

The conversation devolved into a chaotic back-and-forth, and no one seemed willing—or able—to bring it back on track. Kazuha thought about trying to interject again, but his earlier embarrassment held him back.

He folded his hand in his lap, his expression calm but his mind racing with thoughts of how he could have worded his suggestion better—or perhaps even better… kept quiet.

The air felt heavy, the awkwardness palpable despite the lively banter. 

Just as Kazuha was about to resign himself to sitting quietly for the rest of the meeting, the classroom door opened, and Ayato stepped in.

His entrance was sudden yet smooth, his sharp gaze sweeping over the room as he took in the scene—Yoimiya waving her water gun, Itto gesturing wildly, and Shinobu pinching the bridge of her nose in visible frustration. 

Despite having graduated from the school a year ago, Ayato often returned to assist with events, particularly festival planning, given his reputation for strategic thinking and refined tastes. His role as a special consultant for the Student Council made his appearances occasional yet impactful

With an almost imperceptible smile, Ayato clapped his hands once, the sound cutting cleanly through the noise

“Alright everyone,” he said in a firm yet calm voice, immediately commanding attention. “Let’s settle down. I see we have no shortage of creative ideas, but we seem to be lacking a clear direction.”

As Ayato entered and spoke, Ayaka froze mid-thought, her eyes widening in surprise. “Br- Brother?!” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper while she clasped her hands nervously.

Ayato smiled warmly at his sister, his calm demeanor putting her slightly at ease. “I was passing by on my way to check on the festival’s overall progress.. And heard quite the commotion,” he said, glancing around the room. “It seem you really are all overflowing ideas” Ayaka nodded, trying to compose herself. “Yes, we’ve been discussing potential themes. There are so many wonderful ideas but..” Her gaze dropped to the floor, her voice faltering slightly. “It’s a bit hard to decide.” “Then perhaps I can help,” Ayato said, his sharp gaze softening as he looked at her. “Ayaka you mentioned a relaxing booth earlier didn’t you?” “Ah yes!” Ayaka quickly responded followed by a nod.

“And Kazuha proposed an art gallery…”  As Ayato continued speaking, his eyes swept over the room, pausing momentarily on Kazuha and then on [Y/N]. 

It was subtle, but the faintest hint of a knowing smile tugged at his lips. 

His voice maintained its usual composure as he turned back to Kazuha. “An art gallery paired with tea, don’t you think it has a certain elegance to it? A perfect opportunity to showcase talents while offering a serene atmosphere.”

Kazuha, ever perceptive, caught the fleeting glance between Ayato and [Y/N]. For just a split second, your eyes seemed to brighten at the suggestion, lips curling into a smile of approval.

That subtle change, so simple yet so radiant, sent an unexpected twinge through Kazuha’s chest.

He averted his face, his hand brushing a strand of fair from his face in an attempt to steady himself. 

Why does it bother me? He wondered silently. It’s just Ayato being his usual self.. Right?

But the way Ayato’s words seemed to resonate with [Y/N], and the faint amusement lingering in his expression, unsettled Kazuha in a way he couldn’t quite explain.

“Indeed” Kazuha replied, his voice steady despite the slight tightness in his chest. “It’s an amazing idea, blending art and tea… I’m sure most of us would agree.” He glanced towards [Y/N], his tone carefully neutral, as if daring to confirm what he already suspected.

[Y/N] nodded enthusiastically.

Ayato chuckled softly, his gaze turning back to Kazuha, as if gauging his reaction. “I thought so. I’ve always believed the best ideas come from collaboration.”

He clasped his hands together. “And who better to bring the vision to life than talented individuals like you and [Y/N]?’

Kazuha’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly at Ayato’s choice of words.

The former Student Council President had an effortless charm, one that clearly captivated everyone in the room—including [Y/N]. 

Meanwhile, Ayaka’s blush deepened at her brother’s encouragement, though she was still too flustered to notice the subtle undercurrents in the room. “Ah- Thank you Ayato..” she managed to say.

Ayato chuckled once more. “It's nothing, Ayaka. After all, a Kamisato should always strive to enrich the lives of others! I’m sure you’ll make it a memorable experience

Meanwhile, at the back of the room, the banter continued unabated.

“Though.. It’s still a mystery why you think boulder-lifting is creative, Itto.” Yoimiya teased with a sly grin. “What’s next? A rock stacking competition? An Okinabuto wrestling competition? Though I will admit, it’d be hilarious to watch you drop a rock on your foot.” “Hey! Don't diss the rocks nor my bugs!!” Itto shot back, puffing his chest out. “Plus, you’d be surprised how much skill it takes to stack boulders.” Heizou leaned back in his chair with a smirk. “It’s not really… the boulders we’re questing. It’s about your ability to stack anything without knocking it over.” “OH HOHO, that’s RICH coming from the guy who can’t even dodge a water gun!” Itto retorted, pointing at Heizou.

Shinobu, clearly at her wit’s end, sighed deeply and crossed her arms. “You’re all impossible.. Yoimiya, dont even think about shooting that things again.”

She then gave Itto a sharp look. “And you—stop encouraging her.” Yoimiya held up the water gun innocently and spun it in her hand, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Me? I would neveeeer…” “Oh not again..” Heizou muttered, sliding his chair further back as if anticipating another spray.

Itto laughed boisterously to which Shinobu shot back, “Close your mouth Itto.. not everyone has your brain-to-brawn ratio.” “Brain-to-brawn ratio..?? Is that supposed to be an insult or a compliment?” Itto scratched his head, visibly confused.

“It’s definitely an insult,” Heizou chimed smugly from… across the room.. Far, far away from Yoimiya.. Earning an exaggerated gasp from Itto.

As the laughter and teasing continued in the room, Ayato stepped closer to Kazuha, his tone low enough to not be overheard. “You should be careful, Kazuha,” he said with a teasing lilt. “If you don’t make your move soon, someone else might.” Kazuha turned towards Ayato sharply, his eyes betraying his usual composed expression. A flicker of surprise—and just a hint of jealousy. “I appreciate your advice Ayato,” he replied, his voice low but firm. “But some things are worth waiting for.” Ayato simply smiled, patting Kazuha’s shoulder before stepping back to address the class once more.

“Now then, let’s channel this lively energy into making the festival unforgettable, shall we?”

kazuha fanart made by @/Dilyakum_ on twt

TAGLIST: @danhenglovebot, @milkteeboba, @3amstoryreader

all writing belongs to me (@svynie) do not repost without my explicit permission, translate or plagiarize.

[svynie]

This Year, Maybe..

Chapter 2: April 25 - A Simple Pen, A Silent Intent

5NY0PSIS: As class president, he carefully pairs himself with you, hoping to make the most of this seemingly mundane task

TAGS: KAZUHA X READER... not yet, awkward conversations, SLOW BURNN, fluff, one-sided (or is it?), FLUFF, heizou + kuki + tomo appearance, 3RD+2ND POV, USE OF Y/N, no use of italics or bold fonts (i got lazy..) NOT PROOFREAD.

WC: 3, 701

A/N Seriously... I don't know if this is a slow-burn romance or just a painfully slow Kazuha trying to find the right words. Anyway, thank you for reading!!

The morning light poured into the classroom, dust particles drifting in its golden glow. The faint rustling of papers and murmur idle conversations filled the air as students of Class 4-B settled in.

Kaedahara Kazuha leaned against the window, his crimson eyes gazing out at the cherry blossoms swaying gently in the breeze while he listened to the morning announcements. He seemed perfectly fine, his calm expression undisturbed by the chatters around him.

But beneath his composed exterior, his heart beats with a restless rhythm.

Today was the first time he would be able to see the fruits of his carefully crafted cleanup schedule, one he had painstakingly arranged just last week. 

As class president, his second task —after settling the seating arrangement— had been to organize the duties for the after-class cleanup. Kazuha approached this responsibility with fairness, mapping out the tasks, balancing the workload, and pairing everyone with suitable partners

And yet…

He couldn’t deny that his pen lingered just a moment too long when it came to your name.

As the bell rang, Mr. Takahashi strode into the room, his presence immediately silencing the class. “ALRIGHT!! LISTEN UP!” Mr. Takahashi said, his voice stern as he adjusted his glasses, “We assigned after-class cleanup partners for the term. Class President, the floor is yours”

Kazuha rose from his seat, holding a neatly organized list. He glanced at Heizou, who gave him an exaggerated thumbs-up.

Clearing his throat, Kazuha began. “The pairings were arranged to ensure fairness and balance,” he said, his tone measured. “If anyone has concerns, please don't hesitate to speak to me later.”

The class nodded in unison in unison, and Kazuha began calling out names, one by one. “Tomo and Shinobu,” Kazuha announced, his voice steady as always. Tomo grinned, flashing a thumbs-up in Shinobu’s direction, who simply nodded in acknowledgement. They somehow make a good team—Tomo’s carefree energy perfectly balanced by Shinobu’s sharp and efficient approach

“Kirara and Ayaka,” Kazuha continued, his voice a little louder than before. Kirara smiled brightly at Ayaka who offered her usual serene smile in return. Their pairing made perfect sense—both were hardworking and responsible in their own ways. Ayaka, with her composed nature, would surely complement Kirara’s live energy as well.

“Heizou and Yoimiya,” Kazuha called, the pair exchanging amused glances. “JACKPOT!” Heizou mused with a cheeky grin, while Yoimiya beamed back at him. The two had a dynamic brimming with mischievous energy. Their playful demeanor was contagious, drawing a few amused chuckles from the rest of the class as Kazuha prayed they wouldnt cause too much chaos..

A few more of the pairs were announced, his voice steady despite the slight edge of anticipation in the air. 

Finally, he paused.

His gaze lingering on the last pair of names on the list.

Kazuha’s voice softened just slightly, “myself and [Y/N].”

The room remained quiet, though Kazuha didn’t miss the curious glance Heizou shot him.

He adjusted the paper in his hands and moved on to the next order of business, trying to appear unaffected.

He glanced up briefly to see you—[Y/N]—your expression unchanged, as if this was simply another day...

"Alright, everyone, don’t forget to bring your cleaning supplies after school," Mr. Takahashi continued, dismissing the class with a wave of his hand. "See you all again in a few hours."

Then on cue, lunch bell chimed, the classroom erupted into chatter as students unpacked their lunches and settled into their routines.

Kazuha, however, sat in his usual corner by the window, quietly unwrapping his bento box. He preferred the quiet moments, savoring the peace that only the calm before class could provide.

As he lifted a pair of chopsticks to take his first bite, he glanced toward the door where you were exiting the classroom. Your bright presence always stood out to him...

Though you weren’t the loudest, nor the most flamboyant, something about you, made him watch you with a quiet, growing fascination.

“KAZUHAA!” Tomo, as usual, broke his concentration with his booming voice.

Kazuha turned, startled, to see Tomo sliding into the seat in front of him. “You ever think about how ridiculous cleanup duty is?

Kazuha smiled gently, not at all surprised by the sudden intrusion. “It’s about fostering responsibility and teamwork. Besides, the janitors have enough to manage without having to clean up after us.”

“Ah, the noble class president,” Tomo teased, grinning. “Always the voice of reason.”

“You make it sound like it’s a.. bad thing,” Kazuha replied with an amused tilt of his head.

Before the conversation could continue, Heizou appeared by Kazuha’s side, his signature smirk firmly in place as he leaned casually against the desk. “What’s this? Talking about cleaning up after yourselves!? So boring!!! Let me guess, Kazuha—more ‘responsibility and teamwork’ talk?”

Kazuha glanced up, his smile barely hiding the hint of exasperation. “Is there something you want, Heizou?”

Heizou grinned mischievously. “Oh, nothing major...! Just thought I’d drop by to check on our noble president. So, how’s it feel, Kazuha? You’re the big man on campus now!!”

Kazuha sighed, knowing exactly where this was going. “It’s not that gonna be that simple, Heizou...”

“Oh, I’m sure...” Heizou said, tapping his chin. “I bet you have all sorts of complicated feelings about your position. But hey, I think I get it. It’s hard to be the most popular guy in the class.”

Tomo chuckled, clearly enjoying the show. “Yeah, especially when you’re trying to act all modest.”

Kazuha looked at his friend, deadpan. “What are you getting at, exactly?”

Heizou crossed his arms, his smirk widening. “Oh, nothing. Just wanted to remind you that being president comes with its perks, you know? Like… getting to pair yourself with someone specific for cleanup duuuutyyyyy...!!!”

Kazuha’s breath caught for a moment, though he quickly recovered. “I’m just following the seating arrangement. It’s purely coincidental.”

“Coincidental?” Heizou raised an eyebrow, a sly grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “Yeah and I'm Miko's brother.... You’re NOT fooling anyone, my friend. I know exactly what you’re up to!"

Tomo’s eyes widened in realization. “Wait, are you talking about…?” He glanced between Kazuha and Heizou.

“Yes, EXACTLY!” Heizou said, winking at Kazuha before turning his attention back to Tomo. “I’ll bet my last Katsudon that Kazuha purposely paired himself with [Y/N[ for cleanup duty!!!”

Kazuha felt his cheeks warm at the teasing. He was trying to be subtle, to act like it was just a coincidence... but Heizou wasn’t making it easy.

“Stop being so obvious,” Heizou continued, clearly enjoying Kazuha’s discomfort.

“You’ve been mooning over them since second year. Everyone’s gonna catch on if you don’t stop acting all giddy around them.”

Kazuha straightened his back and cleared his throat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sureeeee you don’t,” Heizou said, smirking knowingly. “But you know, there’s no harm in letting them know, right? It’s your last year, after all.”

Kazuha was quiet for a moment. He could feel the weight of Heizou’s words.

But he wasn’t ready.

Not yet.

“Maybe it’s better to just keep it to myself,” Kazuha replied softly, though his voice betrayed a hint of uncertainty.

Heizou shrugged, looking almost sympathetically at him. “Your call, Kazuha. Just don’t take too long. Time’s running out...”

Just then, Shinobu entered the conversation, her calm presence a contrast to the banter around her. “You two are getting too loud. Can you save the gossip for after school...?”

Heizou raised his hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. I’ll keep my observations to myself.... For now.”

Tomo chuckled, clearly entertained by the exchange. “Alright, alright, but you gotta admit, Kazuha—you’re not fooling anyone with that ‘coincidental pairing’ act.”

Kazuha gave him a wry smile, shaking his head. “Let’s just focus on something else, shall we?”

In the afternoon the, the bell rang once more, now signaling the end of the day which was met with a collective groan from the class.

Everyone began to gather their things, packing up books and chatting excitedly about the free time ahead. However, as the noise died down, Mr. Takahashi’s voice rang out sharply.

“Alright, everyone, time for cleanup duty. Let’s not drag this out. Get to your assigned tasks and finish it quickly!1 Kazuha! [Y/N]!! You're on duty for today!”

Kazuha stood, gathering his notes and setting them aside. He had half expected this moment—he’d already seen his name paired with yours on the roster earlier.

The thought of spending this time together should have excited him, but instead, it only brought a swell of nervousness.

What would he even say? How would he bridge the gap between the polite, detached student he was and the person he wished he could be when he was around you?

Kazuha took a deep breath, glancing at you as you stood up from your desk. You caught his eye for a moment, offering a small, friendly smile that made his heart flutter. His response was almost automatic—a soft smile, perhaps a bit more earnest than usual.

The classroom emptied out quickly, leaving just the two of you...

It was quiet, save for the faint scraping of your broom on the floor and the soft rustling of papers as Kazuha shuffled through his notes...

It was the perfect opportunity for a conversation, one he had been hoping for ever since he found out he'd be paired with you for cleanup duty.

He had to make the most of it, right?

After all, this was his chance to finally talk to you, to maybe connect beyond the passing greetings and small interactions of the past year.

He glanced up at you, trying to appear casual. “So... um... you like art, right?”

You paused for a moment, your broom hanging mid-air as you blinked at him. “Yeah... I do,” you answered slowly, as if trying to piece together why he’d bring it up now.

Kazuha rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly aware of how awkward it sounded. “Right, I remember you mentioned it before. I think you said you like drawing too?”

You nodded, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah, that’s right. People, emotions... capturing moments like that"

Kazuha smiled a little, more relaxed now that the conversation was going somewhere. But then, of course, his nerves kicked in again, and the words stumbled out before he could think about them.

“That’s cool,” he said, too quickly.

“I mean, uh... it must be, like, hard to capture a person’s, like, essence, you know?” He winced at his own words, wishing he could take them back. “Uh, not that... I mean, you must be good at it, right? Sorry... I’m rambling.”

You chuckled lightly, easing the tension a bit. “It’s okay. I get what you mean. It’s hard to really capture the way someone is in a single moment, but... I guess that’s part of the fun, right? Trying to freeze time like that but then again I'm not that good at it though, its just a hobby to pass the time”

Kazuha nodded, but then quickly added, “Yeah, yeah, exactly. Like... it’s like... trying to trap a fleeting feeling... or something. Uh oh... poetry’s like that too. You know, trying to... capture the feeling of a moment with words.”

You tilted your head, surprised. “Oh, you write poetry?” you asked, genuinely interested.

“Uh, well, yeah,” Kazuha said, his words coming out more nervously now. “I do. It’s just... you know, little poems. Nothing serious. Mostly haikus. About nature and... other stuff.” He cleared his throat, suddenly embarrassed. “Sorry, I’m not trying to make this all about me or anything.”

You smiled, trying to hide the amusement in your eyes. “I’m not complaining,” you said softly. “It’s interesting, actually. I didn’t know you wrote poems.”

Kazuha felt his heart skip a beat. This was the moment. He had a chance to share something, to let you into his world.

He straightened up, trying to sound more confident. “Well... it’s kind of a way to, you know, express myself. Like how you use your art. Maybe one day, if you want... I could show you one of my poems?”

You hesitated for a second, glancing over at him. “I’d like that,” you said, a genuine smile on your face.

Kazuha smiled back, but his cheeks flushed a little. “Yeah? Cool. Cool. I’ll, uh... I’ll definitely get one ready sometime.”

Silence lingered between you two for a brief moment as you both continued with your tasks. Kazuha tried not to think too much about it, but the conversation had felt a little... strange, hadn't it?

He had tried to sound casual, but now that he was thinking about it, he realized he had blurted a lot of things out without really knowing if any of it made sense.

But maybe that was just how conversations were.

At least you hadn’t looked too uncomfortable... right?

"So," he said after a moment, trying to keep things light, "do you... uh, do you like listening to music while you draw? Or is it one of those things where you need quiet?"

You blinked, clearly thrown off by the sudden change in subject. “I... I usually listen to music, yeah,” you said slowly, as if trying to figure out where this was going. “I think it helps me get in the zone, you know?”

“That’s cool,” Kazuha said quickly, nodding a little too enthusiastically. “Yeah, music helps with, like, the mood and stuff, right? I mean, for poetry, I sometimes listen to... um... instrumental music. Helps me focus.”

You smiled again, this time with a bit more warmth. “Yeah, same here. Something calming, I guess.”

Kazuha felt his heart race a little, and then he immediately regretted it. “Right, calming. Yeah. I guess, uh... well, do you have a favorite artist or band or something?”

You thought for a moment. “I guess I like a bit of everything...! Maybe a bit biased to Classic Rock.”

“Classic rock?” Kazuha repeated, a little too loudly. He flushed, realizing how excited he sounded. “I didn’t know that. I mean, I’ve listened to a little bit of it too. Like, The Beatles and stuff... You know, the classics.”

You laughed, a light, amused sound that made Kazuha smile, though he felt a little embarrassed at how eager he had sounded. “Yeah, The Beatles are definitely classic. There’s something about old music that feels... timeless, right?”

“Totally,” Kazuha agreed quickly. “Yeah, exactly. It’s... timeless. I, uh... I think I’d like to hear what you draw to one day, you know? If you’re up for it.”

You gave him a soft nod, your expression kind. “Sure. I can show you some stuff sometime!"

Kazuha’s heart fluttered at the thought, but he tried to play it cool. “Great. I’ll look forward to it.”

As the conversation started to wind down, Kazuha realized he was probably making this all more complicated than it needed to be.

But that was just how he was, wasn’t it? Always overthinking, trying to make everything perfect when maybe just being himself would be enough.

“Alright, I guess we’re done here,” he said, trying to sound casual as he finished gathering his things.

You nodded, stretching your arms out above your head. “Yeah, looks like it. Thanks for helping with the cleanup.”

“No problem,” Kazuha said, offering you a small smile. “It wasn’t too bad, actually.”

You smiled back, gathering your things. “I’ll see you later, Kazuha. It was... nice... talking.”

“Yeah,” he said softly, watching as you turned to leave. “It really was.”

As you left the room, Kazuha stood there for a moment, letting the silence settle around him. He glanced down at his pencil case, and his gaze landed on the pen—the very same pen you had lent him back in second year.

Kazuha picked up the pen, tracing the surface with his fingers. He had kept it all this time, tucked away, a quiet reminder of that fleeting, simple moment.

The pen had come to symbolize more than just a tool—it was a connection, a brief interaction that had lingered in his mind, growing quietly but steadily with every passing day.

He had never told anyone about it.

It seemed so small... so insignificant when spoken aloud.

But as Kazuha ran his thumb over the worn clip of the pen, he found himself lost in the memory.

It was the final stretch of the exam, and the tension in the room hung heavy in the air, the clock ticking down the minutes.

Kazuha sat near the back of the room, his brow furrowed in concentration, the edges of his paper nearly covered in neat, flowing script.

He had been moving quickly, the rhythm of his writing unbroken—until it wasn’t.

With a soft, almost imperceptible click, the pen in his hand sputtered and stopped, its once smooth ink flow now stilted and dry.

He tried again, pressing harder, but it was no use.

The familiar blue ink that had danced across the page was gone, leaving nothing but a dry, scratchy sound as his pen slid uselessly across the paper.

Kazuha’s heart sank into his chest.

He glanced around, momentarily desperate. No one seemed to notice, their focus fixed entirely on their own papers.

The classroom felt both enormous and stifling all at once, the minutes stretching out like an endless road ahead of him. He couldn’t bring himself to ask for a new pen. To disrupt the quiet, to draw attention to himself at such a moment.

But what choice did he have? He couldn’t just sit there, unable to finish.

He looked down at his paper, the inkless pen in his hand, and for a fleeting second, considered giving up. He had nearly reached the end, but his answers, though thorough, were incomplete. The thought of leaving them unfinished gnawed at him.

Then, a quiet voice cut through the stillness.

“Here.”

Kazuha blinked, startled. His gaze flickered up and across the desk to where you sat.

You were calm, your posture relaxed, the air around you as composed as ever. Your hand extended toward him, a pen sliding quietly across the surface of the desk.

Kazuha’s eyes widened slightly, his mind taking a moment to process the gesture.

Your face was focused on your own paper, your expression neutral, but there was a softness in your movement. It wasn’t loud or forceful, but it was kind.

He reached for the pen, his fingers brushing briefly against yours.

The sensation was electric, something he hadn’t expected, and yet it felt strangely... comforting.

His pulse quickened, and he looked up, only to find you already turning back to your own work, your focus unbroken, as if the exchange had been no more than a passing breeze.

"Thank you," he murmured, his voice barely audible, more a breath than words.

You nodded slightly, a motion so small it almost went unnoticed.

It wasn’t the first time Kazuha had noticed you though.

The memory of the sports festival lingered in the back of his mind. It hadn’t been anything extraordinary—at least, not from your perspective.

You hadn’t been the star athlete, nor had you done anything that particularly drew attention.

But for some reason, in the midst of all the chaos, Kazuha had found his gaze lingering on you.

Maybe it was the way you had cheered on others with such sincerity, the way you had looked so immersed in the spirit of the event.

There was something about you—something quiet and unassuming, yet undeniably captivating—that had caught his attention.

It hadn’t been the loud moments or the flashy victories, but the subtle grace you carried with you. And somehow, without meaning to, you had imprinted yourself on his mind.

The rest of the exam passed in a haze, his hand moving mechanically across the paper as he worked through the final questions.

But his mind kept drifting back to the soft, almost fleeting touch of your fingers on the pen, the brief exchange that left him feeling oddly... unsettled.

The exam eventually ended, the sound of pens setting down and papers rustling filled the air, signaling the end of a long and tense period.

Kazuha stood slowly, the familiar sound of chairs scraping against the floor blending into the background, but his gaze was still fixed on the pen in his hand. The borrowed pen, still warm from the brief touch.

He wanted to return it.

He knew he should.

But when he looked toward you, you were already gathering your things.

The sound of your laughter drifted to his ears as you moved toward the door.

He stood there for a moment longer, watching you leave, the warmth from the pen still lingering in his fingers. He had barely even spoken to you before today—yet now, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted, something unspoken between the two of you, something that made his chest tighten in an unfamiliar way.

Kazuha shook his head, snapping back to the present. The memory of that moment, though seemingly insignificant at the time, had stayed with him all these months. Now, as he sat in the classroom, holding the pen once again, he realized something that had eluded him then.

It wasn’t the pen that mattered.

It was the quiet connection.

The small gesture that seemed to carry more weight than anything he had felt before.

A fleeting touch, a brief but meaningful exchange, and yet it had left a lasting impression on him.

Now, he understood it. The pen, that simple moment, was the beginning of something much more.

Kazuha smiled to himself, almost imperceptibly. He placed the pen down on his desk, his fingers still lingering on it for a moment longer, feeling that warmth return. There was something more to this—something worth exploring, worth understanding.

He remembered Heizou’s teasing words from earlier, his voice ringing in his mind: "Time is ticking, Kazuha."

Kazuha chuckled softly under his breath. He had a whole year. Time was on his side, and perhaps it was time for him to finally let his feelings burn, to stop running from them and start letting them take shape.

No rush. He had all the time he needed. Right?

TAGLIST: @danhenglovebot, @milkteeboba

all writing belongs to me (@svynie) do not repost without my explicit permission, translate or plagiarize.

[svynie]

This Year, Maybe..

Chapter 2: April 25 - A Simple Pen, A Silent Intent

5NY0PSIS: As class president, he carefully pairs himself with you, hoping to make the most of this seemingly mundane task

TAGS: KAZUHA X READER... not yet, awkward conversations, SLOW BURNN, fluff, one-sided (or is it?), FLUFF, heizou + kuki + tomo appearance, 3RD+2ND POV, USE OF Y/N, no use of italics or bold fonts (i got lazy..) NOT PROOFREAD.

WC: 3, 701

A/N Seriously... I don't know if this is a slow-burn romance or just a painfully slow Kazuha trying to find the right words. Anyway, thank you for reading!!

The morning light poured into the classroom, dust particles drifting in its golden glow. The faint rustling of papers and murmur idle conversations filled the air as students of Class 4-B settled in.

Kaedahara Kazuha leaned against the window, his crimson eyes gazing out at the cherry blossoms swaying gently in the breeze while he listened to the morning announcements. He seemed perfectly fine, his calm expression undisturbed by the chatters around him.

But beneath his composed exterior, his heart beats with a restless rhythm.

Today was the first time he would be able to see the fruits of his carefully crafted cleanup schedule, one he had painstakingly arranged just last week. 

As class president, his second task —after settling the seating arrangement— had been to organize the duties for the after-class cleanup. Kazuha approached this responsibility with fairness, mapping out the tasks, balancing the workload, and pairing everyone with suitable partners

And yet…

He couldn’t deny that his pen lingered just a moment too long when it came to your name.

As the bell rang, Mr. Takahashi strode into the room, his presence immediately silencing the class. “ALRIGHT!! LISTEN UP!” Mr. Takahashi said, his voice stern as he adjusted his glasses, “We assigned after-class cleanup partners for the term. Class President, the floor is yours”

Kazuha rose from his seat, holding a neatly organized list. He glanced at Heizou, who gave him an exaggerated thumbs-up.

Clearing his throat, Kazuha began. “The pairings were arranged to ensure fairness and balance,” he said, his tone measured. “If anyone has concerns, please don't hesitate to speak to me later.”

The class nodded in unison in unison, and Kazuha began calling out names, one by one. “Tomo and Shinobu,” Kazuha announced, his voice steady as always. Tomo grinned, flashing a thumbs-up in Shinobu’s direction, who simply nodded in acknowledgement. They somehow make a good team—Tomo’s carefree energy perfectly balanced by Shinobu’s sharp and efficient approach

“Kirara and Ayaka,” Kazuha continued, his voice a little louder than before. Kirara smiled brightly at Ayaka who offered her usual serene smile in return. Their pairing made perfect sense—both were hardworking and responsible in their own ways. Ayaka, with her composed nature, would surely complement Kirara’s live energy as well.

“Heizou and Yoimiya,” Kazuha called, the pair exchanging amused glances. “JACKPOT!” Heizou mused with a cheeky grin, while Yoimiya beamed back at him. The two had a dynamic brimming with mischievous energy. Their playful demeanor was contagious, drawing a few amused chuckles from the rest of the class as Kazuha prayed they wouldnt cause too much chaos..

A few more of the pairs were announced, his voice steady despite the slight edge of anticipation in the air. 

Finally, he paused.

His gaze lingering on the last pair of names on the list.

Kazuha’s voice softened just slightly, “myself and [Y/N].”

The room remained quiet, though Kazuha didn’t miss the curious glance Heizou shot him.

He adjusted the paper in his hands and moved on to the next order of business, trying to appear unaffected.

He glanced up briefly to see you—[Y/N]—your expression unchanged, as if this was simply another day...

"Alright, everyone, don’t forget to bring your cleaning supplies after school," Mr. Takahashi continued, dismissing the class with a wave of his hand. "See you all again in a few hours."

Then on cue, lunch bell chimed, the classroom erupted into chatter as students unpacked their lunches and settled into their routines.

Kazuha, however, sat in his usual corner by the window, quietly unwrapping his bento box. He preferred the quiet moments, savoring the peace that only the calm before class could provide.

As he lifted a pair of chopsticks to take his first bite, he glanced toward the door where you were exiting the classroom. Your bright presence always stood out to him...

Though you weren’t the loudest, nor the most flamboyant, something about you, made him watch you with a quiet, growing fascination.

“KAZUHAA!” Tomo, as usual, broke his concentration with his booming voice.

Kazuha turned, startled, to see Tomo sliding into the seat in front of him. “You ever think about how ridiculous cleanup duty is?

Kazuha smiled gently, not at all surprised by the sudden intrusion. “It’s about fostering responsibility and teamwork. Besides, the janitors have enough to manage without having to clean up after us.”

“Ah, the noble class president,” Tomo teased, grinning. “Always the voice of reason.”

“You make it sound like it’s a.. bad thing,” Kazuha replied with an amused tilt of his head.

Before the conversation could continue, Heizou appeared by Kazuha’s side, his signature smirk firmly in place as he leaned casually against the desk. “What’s this? Talking about cleaning up after yourselves!? So boring!!! Let me guess, Kazuha—more ‘responsibility and teamwork’ talk?”

Kazuha glanced up, his smile barely hiding the hint of exasperation. “Is there something you want, Heizou?”

Heizou grinned mischievously. “Oh, nothing major...! Just thought I’d drop by to check on our noble president. So, how’s it feel, Kazuha? You’re the big man on campus now!!”

Kazuha sighed, knowing exactly where this was going. “It’s not that gonna be that simple, Heizou...”

“Oh, I’m sure...” Heizou said, tapping his chin. “I bet you have all sorts of complicated feelings about your position. But hey, I think I get it. It’s hard to be the most popular guy in the class.”

Tomo chuckled, clearly enjoying the show. “Yeah, especially when you’re trying to act all modest.”

Kazuha looked at his friend, deadpan. “What are you getting at, exactly?”

Heizou crossed his arms, his smirk widening. “Oh, nothing. Just wanted to remind you that being president comes with its perks, you know? Like… getting to pair yourself with someone specific for cleanup duuuutyyyyy...!!!”

Kazuha’s breath caught for a moment, though he quickly recovered. “I’m just following the seating arrangement. It’s purely coincidental.”

“Coincidental?” Heizou raised an eyebrow, a sly grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “Yeah and I'm Miko's brother.... You’re NOT fooling anyone, my friend. I know exactly what you’re up to!"

Tomo’s eyes widened in realization. “Wait, are you talking about…?” He glanced between Kazuha and Heizou.

“Yes, EXACTLY!” Heizou said, winking at Kazuha before turning his attention back to Tomo. “I’ll bet my last Katsudon that Kazuha purposely paired himself with [Y/N[ for cleanup duty!!!”

Kazuha felt his cheeks warm at the teasing. He was trying to be subtle, to act like it was just a coincidence... but Heizou wasn’t making it easy.

“Stop being so obvious,” Heizou continued, clearly enjoying Kazuha’s discomfort.

“You’ve been mooning over them since second year. Everyone’s gonna catch on if you don’t stop acting all giddy around them.”

Kazuha straightened his back and cleared his throat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sureeeee you don’t,” Heizou said, smirking knowingly. “But you know, there’s no harm in letting them know, right? It’s your last year, after all.”

Kazuha was quiet for a moment. He could feel the weight of Heizou’s words.

But he wasn’t ready.

Not yet.

“Maybe it’s better to just keep it to myself,” Kazuha replied softly, though his voice betrayed a hint of uncertainty.

Heizou shrugged, looking almost sympathetically at him. “Your call, Kazuha. Just don’t take too long. Time’s running out...”

Just then, Shinobu entered the conversation, her calm presence a contrast to the banter around her. “You two are getting too loud. Can you save the gossip for after school...?”

Heizou raised his hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. I’ll keep my observations to myself.... For now.”

Tomo chuckled, clearly entertained by the exchange. “Alright, alright, but you gotta admit, Kazuha—you’re not fooling anyone with that ‘coincidental pairing’ act.”

Kazuha gave him a wry smile, shaking his head. “Let’s just focus on something else, shall we?”

In the afternoon the, the bell rang once more, now signaling the end of the day which was met with a collective groan from the class.

Everyone began to gather their things, packing up books and chatting excitedly about the free time ahead. However, as the noise died down, Mr. Takahashi’s voice rang out sharply.

“Alright, everyone, time for cleanup duty. Let’s not drag this out. Get to your assigned tasks and finish it quickly!1 Kazuha! [Y/N]!! You're on duty for today!”

Kazuha stood, gathering his notes and setting them aside. He had half expected this moment—he’d already seen his name paired with yours on the roster earlier.

The thought of spending this time together should have excited him, but instead, it only brought a swell of nervousness.

What would he even say? How would he bridge the gap between the polite, detached student he was and the person he wished he could be when he was around you?

Kazuha took a deep breath, glancing at you as you stood up from your desk. You caught his eye for a moment, offering a small, friendly smile that made his heart flutter. His response was almost automatic—a soft smile, perhaps a bit more earnest than usual.

The classroom emptied out quickly, leaving just the two of you...

It was quiet, save for the faint scraping of your broom on the floor and the soft rustling of papers as Kazuha shuffled through his notes...

It was the perfect opportunity for a conversation, one he had been hoping for ever since he found out he'd be paired with you for cleanup duty.

He had to make the most of it, right?

After all, this was his chance to finally talk to you, to maybe connect beyond the passing greetings and small interactions of the past year.

He glanced up at you, trying to appear casual. “So... um... you like art, right?”

You paused for a moment, your broom hanging mid-air as you blinked at him. “Yeah... I do,” you answered slowly, as if trying to piece together why he’d bring it up now.

Kazuha rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly aware of how awkward it sounded. “Right, I remember you mentioned it before. I think you said you like drawing too?”

You nodded, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah, that’s right. People, emotions... capturing moments like that"

Kazuha smiled a little, more relaxed now that the conversation was going somewhere. But then, of course, his nerves kicked in again, and the words stumbled out before he could think about them.

“That’s cool,” he said, too quickly.

“I mean, uh... it must be, like, hard to capture a person’s, like, essence, you know?” He winced at his own words, wishing he could take them back. “Uh, not that... I mean, you must be good at it, right? Sorry... I’m rambling.”

You chuckled lightly, easing the tension a bit. “It’s okay. I get what you mean. It’s hard to really capture the way someone is in a single moment, but... I guess that’s part of the fun, right? Trying to freeze time like that but then again I'm not that good at it though, its just a hobby to pass the time”

Kazuha nodded, but then quickly added, “Yeah, yeah, exactly. Like... it’s like... trying to trap a fleeting feeling... or something. Uh oh... poetry’s like that too. You know, trying to... capture the feeling of a moment with words.”

You tilted your head, surprised. “Oh, you write poetry?” you asked, genuinely interested.

“Uh, well, yeah,” Kazuha said, his words coming out more nervously now. “I do. It’s just... you know, little poems. Nothing serious. Mostly haikus. About nature and... other stuff.” He cleared his throat, suddenly embarrassed. “Sorry, I’m not trying to make this all about me or anything.”

You smiled, trying to hide the amusement in your eyes. “I’m not complaining,” you said softly. “It’s interesting, actually. I didn’t know you wrote poems.”

Kazuha felt his heart skip a beat. This was the moment. He had a chance to share something, to let you into his world.

He straightened up, trying to sound more confident. “Well... it’s kind of a way to, you know, express myself. Like how you use your art. Maybe one day, if you want... I could show you one of my poems?”

You hesitated for a second, glancing over at him. “I’d like that,” you said, a genuine smile on your face.

Kazuha smiled back, but his cheeks flushed a little. “Yeah? Cool. Cool. I’ll, uh... I’ll definitely get one ready sometime.”

Silence lingered between you two for a brief moment as you both continued with your tasks. Kazuha tried not to think too much about it, but the conversation had felt a little... strange, hadn't it?

He had tried to sound casual, but now that he was thinking about it, he realized he had blurted a lot of things out without really knowing if any of it made sense.

But maybe that was just how conversations were.

At least you hadn’t looked too uncomfortable... right?

"So," he said after a moment, trying to keep things light, "do you... uh, do you like listening to music while you draw? Or is it one of those things where you need quiet?"

You blinked, clearly thrown off by the sudden change in subject. “I... I usually listen to music, yeah,” you said slowly, as if trying to figure out where this was going. “I think it helps me get in the zone, you know?”

“That’s cool,” Kazuha said quickly, nodding a little too enthusiastically. “Yeah, music helps with, like, the mood and stuff, right? I mean, for poetry, I sometimes listen to... um... instrumental music. Helps me focus.”

You smiled again, this time with a bit more warmth. “Yeah, same here. Something calming, I guess.”

Kazuha felt his heart race a little, and then he immediately regretted it. “Right, calming. Yeah. I guess, uh... well, do you have a favorite artist or band or something?”

You thought for a moment. “I guess I like a bit of everything...! Maybe a bit biased to Classic Rock.”

“Classic rock?” Kazuha repeated, a little too loudly. He flushed, realizing how excited he sounded. “I didn’t know that. I mean, I’ve listened to a little bit of it too. Like, The Beatles and stuff... You know, the classics.”

You laughed, a light, amused sound that made Kazuha smile, though he felt a little embarrassed at how eager he had sounded. “Yeah, The Beatles are definitely classic. There’s something about old music that feels... timeless, right?”

“Totally,” Kazuha agreed quickly. “Yeah, exactly. It’s... timeless. I, uh... I think I’d like to hear what you draw to one day, you know? If you’re up for it.”

You gave him a soft nod, your expression kind. “Sure. I can show you some stuff sometime!"

Kazuha’s heart fluttered at the thought, but he tried to play it cool. “Great. I’ll look forward to it.”

As the conversation started to wind down, Kazuha realized he was probably making this all more complicated than it needed to be.

But that was just how he was, wasn’t it? Always overthinking, trying to make everything perfect when maybe just being himself would be enough.

“Alright, I guess we’re done here,” he said, trying to sound casual as he finished gathering his things.

You nodded, stretching your arms out above your head. “Yeah, looks like it. Thanks for helping with the cleanup.”

“No problem,” Kazuha said, offering you a small smile. “It wasn’t too bad, actually.”

You smiled back, gathering your things. “I’ll see you later, Kazuha. It was... nice... talking.”

“Yeah,” he said softly, watching as you turned to leave. “It really was.”

As you left the room, Kazuha stood there for a moment, letting the silence settle around him. He glanced down at his pencil case, and his gaze landed on the pen—the very same pen you had lent him back in second year.

Kazuha picked up the pen, tracing the surface with his fingers. He had kept it all this time, tucked away, a quiet reminder of that fleeting, simple moment.

The pen had come to symbolize more than just a tool—it was a connection, a brief interaction that had lingered in his mind, growing quietly but steadily with every passing day.

He had never told anyone about it.

It seemed so small... so insignificant when spoken aloud.

But as Kazuha ran his thumb over the worn clip of the pen, he found himself lost in the memory.

It was the final stretch of the exam, and the tension in the room hung heavy in the air, the clock ticking down the minutes.

Kazuha sat near the back of the room, his brow furrowed in concentration, the edges of his paper nearly covered in neat, flowing script.

He had been moving quickly, the rhythm of his writing unbroken—until it wasn’t.

With a soft, almost imperceptible click, the pen in his hand sputtered and stopped, its once smooth ink flow now stilted and dry.

He tried again, pressing harder, but it was no use.

The familiar blue ink that had danced across the page was gone, leaving nothing but a dry, scratchy sound as his pen slid uselessly across the paper.

Kazuha’s heart sank into his chest.

He glanced around, momentarily desperate. No one seemed to notice, their focus fixed entirely on their own papers.

The classroom felt both enormous and stifling all at once, the minutes stretching out like an endless road ahead of him. He couldn’t bring himself to ask for a new pen. To disrupt the quiet, to draw attention to himself at such a moment.

But what choice did he have? He couldn’t just sit there, unable to finish.

He looked down at his paper, the inkless pen in his hand, and for a fleeting second, considered giving up. He had nearly reached the end, but his answers, though thorough, were incomplete. The thought of leaving them unfinished gnawed at him.

Then, a quiet voice cut through the stillness.

“Here.”

Kazuha blinked, startled. His gaze flickered up and across the desk to where you sat.

You were calm, your posture relaxed, the air around you as composed as ever. Your hand extended toward him, a pen sliding quietly across the surface of the desk.

Kazuha’s eyes widened slightly, his mind taking a moment to process the gesture.

Your face was focused on your own paper, your expression neutral, but there was a softness in your movement. It wasn’t loud or forceful, but it was kind.

He reached for the pen, his fingers brushing briefly against yours.

The sensation was electric, something he hadn’t expected, and yet it felt strangely... comforting.

His pulse quickened, and he looked up, only to find you already turning back to your own work, your focus unbroken, as if the exchange had been no more than a passing breeze.

"Thank you," he murmured, his voice barely audible, more a breath than words.

You nodded slightly, a motion so small it almost went unnoticed.

It wasn’t the first time Kazuha had noticed you though.

The memory of the sports festival lingered in the back of his mind. It hadn’t been anything extraordinary—at least, not from your perspective.

You hadn’t been the star athlete, nor had you done anything that particularly drew attention.

But for some reason, in the midst of all the chaos, Kazuha had found his gaze lingering on you.

Maybe it was the way you had cheered on others with such sincerity, the way you had looked so immersed in the spirit of the event.

There was something about you—something quiet and unassuming, yet undeniably captivating—that had caught his attention.

It hadn’t been the loud moments or the flashy victories, but the subtle grace you carried with you. And somehow, without meaning to, you had imprinted yourself on his mind.

The rest of the exam passed in a haze, his hand moving mechanically across the paper as he worked through the final questions.

But his mind kept drifting back to the soft, almost fleeting touch of your fingers on the pen, the brief exchange that left him feeling oddly... unsettled.

The exam eventually ended, the sound of pens setting down and papers rustling filled the air, signaling the end of a long and tense period.

Kazuha stood slowly, the familiar sound of chairs scraping against the floor blending into the background, but his gaze was still fixed on the pen in his hand. The borrowed pen, still warm from the brief touch.

He wanted to return it.

He knew he should.

But when he looked toward you, you were already gathering your things.

The sound of your laughter drifted to his ears as you moved toward the door.

He stood there for a moment longer, watching you leave, the warmth from the pen still lingering in his fingers. He had barely even spoken to you before today—yet now, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted, something unspoken between the two of you, something that made his chest tighten in an unfamiliar way.

Kazuha shook his head, snapping back to the present. The memory of that moment, though seemingly insignificant at the time, had stayed with him all these months. Now, as he sat in the classroom, holding the pen once again, he realized something that had eluded him then.

It wasn’t the pen that mattered.

It was the quiet connection.

The small gesture that seemed to carry more weight than anything he had felt before.

A fleeting touch, a brief but meaningful exchange, and yet it had left a lasting impression on him.

Now, he understood it. The pen, that simple moment, was the beginning of something much more.

Kazuha smiled to himself, almost imperceptibly. He placed the pen down on his desk, his fingers still lingering on it for a moment longer, feeling that warmth return. There was something more to this—something worth exploring, worth understanding.

He remembered Heizou’s teasing words from earlier, his voice ringing in his mind: "Time is ticking, Kazuha."

Kazuha chuckled softly under his breath. He had a whole year. Time was on his side, and perhaps it was time for him to finally let his feelings burn, to stop running from them and start letting them take shape.

No rush. He had all the time he needed. Right?

TAGLIST: @danhenglovebot, @milkteeboba

all writing belongs to me (@svynie) do not repost without my explicit permission, translate or plagiarize.

[svynie]

This Year.. Maybe

Chapter 1: April 10 - So Close Yet.. So Far

5YNOPSIS: As fourth year begins, Kazuha steps into his sudden role as class president. But when a familiar presence enters the classroom, his carefully built composure wavers. A brief, awkward exchange during seating arrangements brings back a memory from two years ago.. a moment that changed everything for him Tags: KAZUHA X READER... not yet, fluff, modern au, high school setting in Inazuma, TOMO'S ALIVE! (i know that's not his actual name..) Heizou and Beidou Appearance, Unrequited Love/Pining (for now), reader's action is written as - You did this bla bla bla, Use of [Y/N]

WC: 4, 491

A/N: This was originally intended to be a oneshot, but as I started writing more, I found there were too many scenarios I wanted to explore.... So, I decided to turn it into a series instead! This chapter was the original oneshot, with a few added details and adjustments!! - anyone else want to be tagged..?

The morning sun peeked through the pale curtains of Kazuha’s room, dappling the wooden floor with light. The faint rustle of cherry blossoms outside blended with the distant chirping of birds, creating a serene melody.

Kazuha stirred under the soft covers of his futon, blinking groggily at the sunlight filtering through pale curtains.

“HEY! Kazuha!” Beidou’s voice rang out from downstairs, full of its usual lively energy. “If you don’t get up soon, you’re gonna be late! Dont make me drag you!”

Kazuha groaned, sitting up and trying to rub the sleep from his eyes. “I’m up..!” he called back, though the lethargy clinging to his limbs said otherwise.

He shuffled toward the bathroom, splashing his face with cold water in a bid to wake himself fully.

His reflection stared back at him, hair disheveled, crimson eyes half-lidded still lingering sleep.

By the time he stepped into the shower, the cold water immediately woke up his mind.

He lingered longer than usual, letting his thoughts drift.

Today was the start of his final year in high school.

The idea brought a strange mix of anticipation and unease, but one thought stood out above the rest: You.

Your name had been in the same class as his.. Class 4-B

Kazuha’s heart quickened as he recalled seeing it, placed among his future classmates. After years of fleeting glances and quiet admiration, fate had placed you in the same class...

Was it a sign? Or perhaps just a cruel trick to test his resolve?

He sighed, stepping out of the shower and toweling off. He dressed with practiced efficiency, smoothing the crisp fabric of his uniform and tying his hair into its usual loose ponytail.

Downstairs, the aroma of grilled fish and steamed rice greeted him, and Kazuha’s stomach growled in appreciation.

Beidou was already seated at the table, leaning back in her chair with an air of casual confidence. “Finally decided to grace us with your presence, huh?” she teased, grinning as Kazuha slid into his seat.

“You’re up early,” Kazuha replied, helping himself to a serving of rice and miso soup.

“Had a shipment to oversee at dawn...” Beidou said, waving a hand. “But I wouldn’t want to miss seeing my kid off on his first day back.”

Kazuha’s lips curved into a faint smile. Beidou wasn’t one for traditional displays of affection, but her pride in him was evident.

As they ate, she leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. “So, what’s the plan this year, Kazu? Flying under the radar like always?”

Kazuha paused, chopsticks hovering mid-air. “Something like that,” he said lightly, though his thoughts were anything but simple.

Beidou raised an eyebrow but didn’t push.

Instead, she smirked. “Well, don’t let ’em push you around. You’re a Kaedehara, after all! Go make a splash!!"

He chuckled softly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

After breakfast, Kazuha shouldered his bag and made his way to the door. Beidou followed, leaning against the frame as she watched him slip on his shoes.

“Good luck, kid,” she said, ruffling his hair as he straightened.

Kazuha glanced back, his eyes soft. “Thanks, Mom.”

The air was crisp and refreshing as Kazuha stepped outside, his satchel slung loosely over one shoulder. The cobblestone path that led to the heart of Inazuma City were now covered with the petals of the sakura trees. Each step he took stirred a few fallen petals into the air.

For most, this was simply another school day.

But for Kazuha, it felt like something more.

The idea of starting his final year was enough to make him reflect.. about everything.. but knowing that you would share his classroom this year had sent his emotions into overdrive.

The streets bustled with life as merchants opened their stalls and mothers ushered their children along. Kazuha weaved through the familiar sights.

As he passed by the riverbank, he couldn’t resist pausing for a moment. The gentle ripple of the water reflected the cherry blossoms overhead, and for the briefest of moments, Kazuha felt his heartbeat to steady.

But the memory of seeing your name on the class roster made his pulse quickened when he’d first spotted it. His lips quirked into a faint smile as he recalled.

[Y/N].

In Class 4-B.

With me.

It wasn’t as if you’d never noticed him before—you’d exchanged polite nods, once or twice—but this year felt different.

The proximity, the potential for interaction, and the possibility to finally close the distance between you—it was both exhilarating and terrifying...

As the school gates came into view, his stomach churned with nervousness. Students in their uniforms crowded the courtyard, their chatter blending into a harmony of excitement.

Kazuha slipped through the crowd, trying to mask his inner storm of emotions under his calm exterior. His destination was the bulletin board, where students gathered to confirm their class placements.

The board was covered in lists of names, neatly organized by class and year. He moved to the front, his heart beating just a little faster with each step. As he stood there, the names on the list blurred together for a moment—until he found it.

1. Kirara 2. Kuki Shinobu 3. Shikanoin Heizou .............

His gaze flickered from the first name to the last.

Kirara’s name made him smile a little, thinking of her playful, hardworking nature, always so full of energy.

Kuki Shinobu’s name, though, was a comfort—her sharp mind and calm demeanor were qualities Kazuha appreciated.

Then, of course, there was Shikanoin Heizou, with his tendency to be both mischievous yet quick-witted, he was the type of person who could get away with anything with just a wink and a smile.

But it was the last name that truly made his heart skip 7. Kaedehara Kazuha 8. [Your Name]

His fingers hovered over the list, still not quite believing it. There you were, placed right beside him in Class 4-B.

The sheer coincidence—could it be? Was this some sort of sign, or was it just luck?

He blinked, trying to steady his breath, but all the excitement and nerves seemed to rush into him at once.

In that moment, Kazuha allowed himself a soft, fleeting smile that no one else would notice, but it made his heart feel lighter.

He stepped back to let the next student through, slipping his hands into his pockets as he made his way toward the classroom, his heart warm with anticipation.

By the time Kazuha reached Class 4-B, the classroom was already beaming with excitement as students were catching up on their vacations, gossiping about the summer, and speculating on what this year would bring. Some were still settling into their seats, others chatting with familiar faces.

As Kazuha settled into his usual seat by the window, he couldn’t help but notice the gentle rustle of the curtains in the breeze. The room felt alive with promise...

His gaze drifted lazily toward the front of the classroom, and for the briefest moment, his mind wandered to other matters—the sea breeze, the distant rustle of leaves, and the soft hum of nature just outside the classroom walls.

It was a familiar feeling, like the world outside was calling him, reminding him that there were places beyond this room.

But today, everything felt heavy with anticipation, tethering him here.

His fingers lightly traced the edge of his desk as he waited for the bell to ring, the subtle pulse of his heartbeat was now an erratic drumbeat in his chest.

Finally, the door creaked open, and in walked Mr. Takahashi, the homeroom teacher.

"Good morning, Class 4-B!" Mr. Takahashi greeted, his voice steady and authoritative.

He was the.. sort of teacher who commanded attention without needing to raise his voice, a quiet confidence in his demeanor that immediately settled the room.

"Let’s get started."

As he walked toward the front, there was a palpable shift in the air.

The students, who had been chatting away moments ago, began to quiet down, eyes turning towards the front.

Kazuha felt the familiar stir of unease in his stomach, the sense that something was about to happen—something he couldn’t quite control.

Mr. Takahashi cleared his throat to get everyone's attention, "Before we get into the schedule for the year, there’s something we need to address. It's time for our class officer elections."

A collective groan echoed through the room, the sound of students who didn’t particularly care for responsibilities.

Then, there was a moment of silence as everyone waited for someone to take the initiative. After all, the elections was never something people eagerly volunteered for—it was just a formality, a necessary duty to get through the year.

Kazuha, ever the quiet observer, leaned back in his chair, his hands on his lap. He wasn’t particularly concerned about the election.

He’d been elected in other class officer roles in the past without much fuss.

It wasn’t also that he disliked it... it was simply that he preferred to lead quietly, from the background.

He had never been one to demand the spotlight.

"Alright, well then.." Mr. Takahashi continued, breaking Kazuha’s thoughts, "Let’s get started. I’ll open the floor for nominations. Who would like to volunteer for the position of class president?"

Silence.

Kazuha’s gaze shifted, taking in the faces of his classmates. No one seemed eager to take the lead, and the air was thick with reluctance.

His thoughts began to drift again, as they often did. He didn’t mind being the class president, but the position came with expectations.

Expectations that made him a little uneasy.

He wasn’t about to nominate himself too.

He wasn’t particularly sure that anyone else would nominate him, either. He had always been more of a quiet leader, stepping in when necessary but never pushing himself forward.

The minutes ticked by, the only sound in the room being the occasional rustle of a student shifting in their seat.

Then, unexpectedly, a voice pierced the silence.

"I nominate Kaedehara Kazuha!"

Kazuha’s eyes widened, his body stiffening in surprise. He turned toward the back of the room, where the voice had come from. Tomo—one of his closest friends—was grinning widely at him, hands raised in a mock salute.

"I SECOND THE NOTION!" another voice chimed in, Heizou's...

Kazuha blinked, his mind racing. He hadn’t anticipated this.

He hadn’t even thought to volunteer, much less be nominated so quickly. The idea of being class president was one thing, but having it thrust upon him in front of the whole class was... different.

He glanced around the room, his eyes scanning the faces of his classmates, most of whom were already looking toward him with varying degrees of curiosity.

A wave of heat crept up his face. He wasn’t entirely sure why his heart rate had picked up so suddenly. It was just an election, after all.

And yet, there was something about the way they were all looking at him now that felt... he wasn’t sure how to explain it.

Mr. Takahashi glanced over at him, eyebrows raised. "Well, it seems we have a nominee." He looked toward the class. "All in favor of Kaedehara Kazuha as class president, raise your hands!"

Kazuha didn’t move.

His gaze flicked from hand to hand as they shot up around the room—some with enthusiasm, others with casual indifference.

But then, in the middle of it all, he saw it.

Your hand.

You were raising your hand..

Kazuha’s heart skipped a beat, and he had to take a sharp breath to steady himself.

He hadn’t expected that.

The warmth of your gesture, the way your fingers moved so naturally in the air, felt like a soft reassurance.

He wasn’t sure why it made him feel like his entire world had shifted just a little.

When the votes were tallied, Mr. Takahashi nodded. "Looks like it’s unanimous! Kaedehara Kazuha, is now our new class president."

The class broke into applause, the sound echoing in his ears. Kazuha stood up, feeling the weight of everyone’s eyes on him. It wasn’t that he hadn’t held leadership positions before—but this time, it felt different.

This time, he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more at play than just being the class president.

As the applause died down, Kazuha cleared his throat, raising his hands in an effort to calm the room. "Thank you," he said, his voice steady despite the churn of emotions inside him. "I’ll do my best to make this year run smoothly."

He tried not to let his nerves show, keeping his gaze steady as he surveyed the class.

It was only when his eyes caught yours again, the soft smile on your lips, that he felt a sense of calmness..

After the election concluded and the classroom settled into a familiar rhythm of idle chatter, Mr. Takahashi waved Kazuha over to the front desk. A neat pile of name cards lay waiting, along with a seating chart template.

“As our esteemed class president,” Mr. Takahashi began with a playful grin, “you get the honor of helping me decide everyone’s seating. and if you can avoid putting people with, uh, ‘history’ near each other, you’ll have my eternal gratitude."

“Understood, sir.” Kazuha chuckled lightly, though he felt an almost absurd level of responsibility. It wasn’t that assigning seats was difficult... it was the knowledge that where people sat might define their year.

Would friendships blossom? Would rivalries form? Would someone sit beside someone they secretly admired?

Would he...?

As he flipped through the cards, your name appeared.

It stood out.

Not because the ink was bolder or the letters more elegant, but because it carried a weight only he could see...

His fingers lingered on it for a heartbeat too long before he gently placed it down.

He began filling the chart, hoping to create a fair balance. The chatter of the classroom felt distant as he arranged friendships and personalities.

But when it came to assigning his own seat..

He faltered.

Kazuha closed his eyes briefly, a silent prayer forming.

"To any deity, archon, or celestial being who might hear me... let me sit with [Y/N]."

It was foolish. Selfish... even.

But the thought of being close to you—of seeing you not just as a distant admiration but as a part of his daily life—made his heart race in ways that scared him as much as they thrilled him.

Then, he carefully placed your name beside his own.

“Finished?” Mr. Takahashi asked, peering over Kazuha’s shoulder.

“Yes,” Kazuha replied, keeping his tone even despite the small scare Mr. Takahashi had given him.

“Great. Let’s see how long it takes for complaints to start rolling in,” the teacher joked, pinning the chart to the board. “Everyone, find your new seats!”

The classroom buzzed as students gathered around the chart. Kazuha remained at his desk, his expression calm though his fingers tapped a silent rhythm against his thigh.

He didn’t look up, not even when he heard footsteps approach.

“Looks like we’re seatmates,” you said, breaking the silence.

Kazuha glanced up, his breath catching for a split second. You stood beside him, your smile easy and unguarded, as if this was the most natural thing in the world.

“Yes,” he replied, though his voice wavered. He cleared his throat quickly, composing himself. “It seems so.”

You tilted your head slightly, amused by his formal tone. “Looking forward to the year, Kaedehara-san!"

His name on your lips felt like a melody. “A-As am I,” he stammered, cursing himself inwardly for the awkward response.

As you settled into your seat, Kazuha couldn’t help but steal a glance. Your attention had already shifted to arranging your supplies, but to him, the moment lingered like a dream he wasn’t ready to wake from.

Then... the memory resurfaced with startling clarity as Kazuha caught the faintest scent of cherry blossoms drifting through the open window.

Second Year Sports Day

The school’s sports day had arrived, and with it, the usual mix of excitement and energy that buzzed through the air.

While the rest of the school seemed to vibrate with uncontainable enthusiasm, Kazuha found himself sitting at the edge of the track, away from the heart of the festivities. His usual spot under the large sakura tree, a quiet refuge, stood at the farthest corner of the grounds.

The cool shade beneath the tree provided a temporary escape from the groups of students, their cheers and shouts muffled by the distance.

The only sounds Kazuha truly heard were the occasional rumbles of laughter and the rustling of the leaves overhead.

He opened his notebook, the familiar pages welcoming him like an old friend. He’d been trying to write a poem about spring, something inspired by the energy of the day...

Yet, as his pen hovered over the first line, he found himself distracted. His thoughts wandered, and the words refused to come.

His gaze drifted across the field, where students in brightly colored uniforms lined up for their respective events.

Some were stretching, some were chatting, and others were just as focused as he had hoped to be in his writing.

Yet, it wasn’t their energy that caught his attention.

It was you.

There you were, standing in the middle of your relay team, adjusting the ribbon on your uniform.

It wasn’t that you stood out because of any particularly noticeable trait.

You weren’t the loudest, nor were you drawing attention with over-the-top theatrics.

Instead, it was in the way you carried yourself.

Your eyes seemed to be focused on the track ahead, and your smile was soft yet determined. It was clear you were nervous, but there was an undeniable strength in the way you held your own.

As you adjusted the straps of your shoes, your hands moving in practiced motions, Kazuha felt an unfamiliar tightness in his chest. It was a strange feeling, one he couldn’t quite place.

He watched as you laughed at something your teammate said, your voice ringing clearly through the air, and for a moment, time seemed to stop.

He didn’t know why he couldn’t look away, why his thoughts were suddenly so jumbled. All he could do was watch as you leaned forward, preparing for the race to begin.

The whistle blew, sharp and clear, cutting through the air. The race started with a burst of energy. You took off down the track with the other runners, your legs pumping with determination, your face set with concentration.

You weren’t the fastest.

In fact, Kazuha knew that the fastest runners were already ahead, but there was something about the way you ran.

It wasn’t about speed.

It was about perseverance, about staying steady no matter the odds.

There was no frenzied urgency to your movements. You were calm—almost serene—despite the pressure of the race, despite the adrenaline coursing through your veins.

It was as if the entire world had fallen away, leaving only the rhythm of your body and the goal ahead.

The baton exchange came, and Kazuha’s eyes followed every move. As you passed the baton, you didn’t falter.

You didn’t hesitate.

The way you handed off the baton was smooth, like you’d done it a thousand times. Your face, flushed with effort, broke into a brief smile as you cheered for your teammate who took off next.

It wasn’t a smile directed at anyone in particular. It was a natural, easy smile—a smile that felt effortless and genuine, as if you weren’t concerned with anything other than the moment itself.

Kazuha couldn’t explain it, but that smile...so simple

Made something stir deep within him...

His hand, still gripping the pen, trembled slightly.

He was so absorbed in watching you that he didn’t realize his notebook had slipped from his lap and fallen to the ground with a soft thud.

The noise startled him out of his daze, and for a brief moment, he blinked in confusion as he looked down at the notebook, now on the grass beside him.

He shook his head, trying to clear the sudden fog in his mind.

But the moment he lifted his gaze again,

There you were—laughing with your teammates, clearly exhausted but no less joyful...

And suddenly, it hit him.

He hadn’t noticed you before.

Not like this.

Not until now.

The noises of the crowd faded, the rustling of the leaves turned into a soft murmur.

The only thing that mattered was you—your laughter, your smile, your quiet strength as you cheered on your friends.

In the space of a single moment, his world had shifted.

For the first time, Kazuha felt something he couldn’t explain—a pull, an unshakable weight in his chest.

Now, you were all he could see.

In his reverie, he didn’t hear the bell ring or the shuffle of students around him.

He was lost in the memory, feeling that familiar warmth rise in his chest, the same warmth that had blossomed quietly within him since that day.

But then a soft voice broke through the haze of nostalgia, sharp and clear.

“Kaedehara-san?” The sound of your voice snapped him back to the present, and Kazuha blinked, looking up in mild surprise. You were standing by his desk, your gaze not quite meeting his but still focused on him with an expression that held something like concern, a faint smile tugging at your lips.

“Kaedehara-san,” you repeated, your tone playful yet gently questioning. “Are you daydreaming...? You looked like you were a million miles away!"

Kazuha felt his heart leap in his chest.

The gentle teasing was enough to make him realize just how lost he’d been in his thoughts.

He quickly shook his head, trying to mask his embarrassment with a sheepish smile. “Ah, sorry, I—was just thinking.”

Your smile softened, though the hint of amusement still lingered. “I figured,” you said, tapping your fingers on his desk lightly. “You seemed so... far away.”

“Ah... I didn’t mean to seem distant,” he stammered, immediately trying to explain himself, but the words escaped him as quickly as they had arrived.

Instead, he offered a small, embarrassed laugh. “I guess I got a little lost in my head.” It was then that he realized he hadn’t even noticed when the class had finished, or how the others were packing up for lunch.

The room was quieter now, with only a few lingering conversations and the shuffle of bags and chairs. “Hmm, well, it’s good to know I wasn’t the only one spacing out,” you said with a small wink. “You’ve been pretty focused all morning. Do you need a break?”

Kazuha opened his mouth to respond but found himself at a loss for words.

His heart was still racing a little, not entirely from embarrassment, but from the realization that you were still here, still so close.

His chest tightened in a way he couldn’t quite explain, a feeling that had been growing steadily ever since he sat beside you today.

“I’m... I’m fine,” Kazuha managed, though his voice was quieter than he intended. He quickly gathered his things—his notebook, pen, and the scattered bits of paper that had somehow gotten mixed up throughout the morning—and began packing them into his bag.

But his thoughts wandered again, despite his best efforts to stay focused.

How could he tell you what had been on his mind for so long? How could he put into words the feelings that had been growing within him ever since that second year Sports Day?

He couldn’t, not yet. He wasn’t ready.

But as you turned to walk away, your voice lingered in the air. “Well, I’ll let you catch up on your thoughts then, Kaedehara-san. Don’t work yourself too hard, okay?”

Kazuha watched you go, his heart racing in his chest as the words you’d said echoed in his mind. "Don’t work yourself too hard."

How could he explain that it wasn’t work, but something much more complicated?

That it wasn’t just the class, or the presidency, or the seat arrangement that filled his thoughts..

It was you.

But he remained silent, and he let you walk away, his gaze lingering on the space where you had sat.

Later that evening, after the weight of the day had lifted,

Kazuha sat by his window, the sky had deepened into dusk, the stars flickering above like distant fires, and the air was cool.

It was quiet in his room, aside for the soft rustle of the wind and the occasional chirp of crickets in the night.

The silence gave him the space he needed to think, to process the emotions that were swirling within him... tangled and messy.

He had been thinking of you all day... how you had smiled at him when you called him out of his thoughts, how your voice had sounded when you’d asked if he was okay.

It had been casual.

But there was a depth to it that he couldn’t shake.

The truth was, Kazuha had known for a long time that his feelings for you had deepened.

Ever since that Sports Day in his second year, he had watched you from the shadows, silently admiring you from afar.

He had told himself, back then, that it was just a passing crush, something that would fade with time.

But it hadn’t.

It had only grown stronger, more persistent, like a plant planted deep in his heart that refused to wither.

And now, in his fourth year, here he was—seated beside you.

His heart pounding every time your voice brushed against his ear. He had told himself that the new school year would be the one where he finally found the courage to tell you.

But each time he thought about it, the fear gripped him all over again.

What if you didn’t feel the same? What if, by speaking his heart, he destroyed the quiet connection he had with you?

Kazuha closed his eyes for a moment, leaning back in his chair. “I have to tell them,” he whispered softly to the stars outside, as if seeking some cosmic answer. “This year, I have to.”

But as he sat there, a pang of longing tugged at his chest.

So close... yet so far.

You were right there, right beside him.

Yet the distance between his feelings and the courage to act on them felt like an unbridgeable gap.

His heart ached with the weight of it, knowing that despite being closer to you than ever before, he remained just as far from you in the ways that truly mattered...

But he knew that he couldn’t keep living in this quiet reverie forever.

Tomorrow would be another day. Another chance to take that first step, to move closer to you, to finally show the words that had been held back for so long.

With a soft sigh, Kazuha set his pen down and looked out at the stars.

They were distant, silent, and untouchable—but still, they shone brightly.

Just like his feelings for you.

taglist: @danhenglovebot

divider belongs to @/rookthornesartistry

kazuha fanart belongs to NOT FOUND !! (PLEASE LET ME KNOW.. I CANT FIND THE OG..)

all writing belongs to @svynie. do not repost without my explicit permission, translate or plagiarize.

[svynie]

This Year, Maybe...

SYN0P5IS: For three years, he quietly watched them from afar. For three years, his true feelings were never said. But in their final year, things change. Will he be able to express these thoughts before time runs out? Or will their quiet bond remain just that, until the very end?

TAGS: Kazuha x Reader, Fluff, Angst (lol), Slow Burn, Unaware Idiots, Modern AU, High School Setting, Kazuha's POV written in 3RD PERSON

SERIES: ONGOING

A/N: this was supposed to be just a rlly long fic but as I started writing more ideas came to mind... so have a full length series ! ALSOO let me know too if you wanna be tagged ! <3 MOREOVER!! The one or two word next to the dates arent the official title!! Theyre just a rlly... really.. vague idea on what the chapter is about ! - bot version PRONE TO CHANGES!! Especially the dates, the title of the series, and the scenario of each..

April: The Beginning of the Fourth and Last Year

Chapter 1: April 10, Fourth Year - THE START

Chapter 2: April 25, Fourth Year - AFTERCLASS CLEANUP

May: A Chance At Friendship

Chapter 3: May 8, Fourth Year - MID YEAR FESTIVAL

Chapter 4: May 20, Fourth Year - LUNCH GROUP

Chapter 5: May 30, Fourth Year - MISSED CHANCE...

June: Summer Brews

Chapter 6: June 12, Fourth Year - FIREWORKS FESTIVAL

Chapter 7: June 25, Fourth Year - QUIET POEM

July: Hushed Longing

Chapter 8: July 5, Fourth Year - ART DAY

Chapter 9: July 22, Fourth Year - CLASS PICNIC

Chapter 10: July 29, Fourth Year - EXAMS

August: Middle

Chapter 10: August 15, Fourth Year - SUMMER JOBS

September - December: The Fall into Deeper Feelings

Chapter 12: September 10, Fourth Year - SPORTS DAY

Chapter 13: October 15, Fourth Year - SCHOOL TRIP / HIKING

Chapter 15: December 24, Fourth Year - CHRISTMAS PARTY

January to March: The Closing

Chapter 16: January 10, Fourth Year - LOVE LETTER..?

Chapter 17: February 14, Fourth Year - BITTERSWEET MISUNDERSTANDINGS

Chapter 18: March 25, Fourth Year - END.

divider belongs to @/rookthornesartistry

kazuha fanart belongs to @/inqueueu on twt

all writing belongs to me (@svynie). do not repost on another site without my explicit permission, translate or plagiarize

[svynie]

This Year.. Maybe

Chapter 1: April 10 - So Close Yet.. So Far

5YNOPSIS: As fourth year begins, Kazuha steps into his sudden role as class president. But when a familiar presence enters the classroom, his carefully built composure wavers. A brief, awkward exchange during seating arrangements brings back a memory from two years ago.. a moment that changed everything for him Tags: KAZUHA X READER... not yet, fluff, modern au, high school setting in Inazuma, TOMO'S ALIVE! (i know that's not his actual name..) Heizou and Beidou Appearance, Unrequited Love/Pining (for now), reader's action is written as - You did this bla bla bla, Use of [Y/N]

WC: 4, 491

A/N: This was originally intended to be a oneshot, but as I started writing more, I found there were too many scenarios I wanted to explore.... So, I decided to turn it into a series instead! This chapter was the original oneshot, with a few added details and adjustments!! - anyone else want to be tagged..?

The morning sun peeked through the pale curtains of Kazuha’s room, dappling the wooden floor with light. The faint rustle of cherry blossoms outside blended with the distant chirping of birds, creating a serene melody.

Kazuha stirred under the soft covers of his futon, blinking groggily at the sunlight filtering through pale curtains.

“HEY! Kazuha!” Beidou’s voice rang out from downstairs, full of its usual lively energy. “If you don’t get up soon, you’re gonna be late! Dont make me drag you!”

Kazuha groaned, sitting up and trying to rub the sleep from his eyes. “I’m up..!” he called back, though the lethargy clinging to his limbs said otherwise.

He shuffled toward the bathroom, splashing his face with cold water in a bid to wake himself fully.

His reflection stared back at him, hair disheveled, crimson eyes half-lidded still lingering sleep.

By the time he stepped into the shower, the cold water immediately woke up his mind.

He lingered longer than usual, letting his thoughts drift.

Today was the start of his final year in high school.

The idea brought a strange mix of anticipation and unease, but one thought stood out above the rest: You.

Your name had been in the same class as his.. Class 4-B

Kazuha’s heart quickened as he recalled seeing it, placed among his future classmates. After years of fleeting glances and quiet admiration, fate had placed you in the same class...

Was it a sign? Or perhaps just a cruel trick to test his resolve?

He sighed, stepping out of the shower and toweling off. He dressed with practiced efficiency, smoothing the crisp fabric of his uniform and tying his hair into its usual loose ponytail.

Downstairs, the aroma of grilled fish and steamed rice greeted him, and Kazuha’s stomach growled in appreciation.

Beidou was already seated at the table, leaning back in her chair with an air of casual confidence. “Finally decided to grace us with your presence, huh?” she teased, grinning as Kazuha slid into his seat.

“You’re up early,” Kazuha replied, helping himself to a serving of rice and miso soup.

“Had a shipment to oversee at dawn...” Beidou said, waving a hand. “But I wouldn’t want to miss seeing my kid off on his first day back.”

Kazuha’s lips curved into a faint smile. Beidou wasn’t one for traditional displays of affection, but her pride in him was evident.

As they ate, she leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. “So, what’s the plan this year, Kazu? Flying under the radar like always?”

Kazuha paused, chopsticks hovering mid-air. “Something like that,” he said lightly, though his thoughts were anything but simple.

Beidou raised an eyebrow but didn’t push.

Instead, she smirked. “Well, don’t let ’em push you around. You’re a Kaedehara, after all! Go make a splash!!"

He chuckled softly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

After breakfast, Kazuha shouldered his bag and made his way to the door. Beidou followed, leaning against the frame as she watched him slip on his shoes.

“Good luck, kid,” she said, ruffling his hair as he straightened.

Kazuha glanced back, his eyes soft. “Thanks, Mom.”

The air was crisp and refreshing as Kazuha stepped outside, his satchel slung loosely over one shoulder. The cobblestone path that led to the heart of Inazuma City were now covered with the petals of the sakura trees. Each step he took stirred a few fallen petals into the air.

For most, this was simply another school day.

But for Kazuha, it felt like something more.

The idea of starting his final year was enough to make him reflect.. about everything.. but knowing that you would share his classroom this year had sent his emotions into overdrive.

The streets bustled with life as merchants opened their stalls and mothers ushered their children along. Kazuha weaved through the familiar sights.

As he passed by the riverbank, he couldn’t resist pausing for a moment. The gentle ripple of the water reflected the cherry blossoms overhead, and for the briefest of moments, Kazuha felt his heartbeat to steady.

But the memory of seeing your name on the class roster made his pulse quickened when he’d first spotted it. His lips quirked into a faint smile as he recalled.

[Y/N].

In Class 4-B.

With me.

It wasn’t as if you’d never noticed him before—you’d exchanged polite nods, once or twice—but this year felt different.

The proximity, the potential for interaction, and the possibility to finally close the distance between you—it was both exhilarating and terrifying...

As the school gates came into view, his stomach churned with nervousness. Students in their uniforms crowded the courtyard, their chatter blending into a harmony of excitement.

Kazuha slipped through the crowd, trying to mask his inner storm of emotions under his calm exterior. His destination was the bulletin board, where students gathered to confirm their class placements.

The board was covered in lists of names, neatly organized by class and year. He moved to the front, his heart beating just a little faster with each step. As he stood there, the names on the list blurred together for a moment—until he found it.

1. Kirara 2. Kuki Shinobu 3. Shikanoin Heizou .............

His gaze flickered from the first name to the last.

Kirara’s name made him smile a little, thinking of her playful, hardworking nature, always so full of energy.

Kuki Shinobu’s name, though, was a comfort—her sharp mind and calm demeanor were qualities Kazuha appreciated.

Then, of course, there was Shikanoin Heizou, with his tendency to be both mischievous yet quick-witted, he was the type of person who could get away with anything with just a wink and a smile.

But it was the last name that truly made his heart skip 7. Kaedehara Kazuha 8. [Your Name]

His fingers hovered over the list, still not quite believing it. There you were, placed right beside him in Class 4-B.

The sheer coincidence—could it be? Was this some sort of sign, or was it just luck?

He blinked, trying to steady his breath, but all the excitement and nerves seemed to rush into him at once.

In that moment, Kazuha allowed himself a soft, fleeting smile that no one else would notice, but it made his heart feel lighter.

He stepped back to let the next student through, slipping his hands into his pockets as he made his way toward the classroom, his heart warm with anticipation.

By the time Kazuha reached Class 4-B, the classroom was already beaming with excitement as students were catching up on their vacations, gossiping about the summer, and speculating on what this year would bring. Some were still settling into their seats, others chatting with familiar faces.

As Kazuha settled into his usual seat by the window, he couldn’t help but notice the gentle rustle of the curtains in the breeze. The room felt alive with promise...

His gaze drifted lazily toward the front of the classroom, and for the briefest moment, his mind wandered to other matters—the sea breeze, the distant rustle of leaves, and the soft hum of nature just outside the classroom walls.

It was a familiar feeling, like the world outside was calling him, reminding him that there were places beyond this room.

But today, everything felt heavy with anticipation, tethering him here.

His fingers lightly traced the edge of his desk as he waited for the bell to ring, the subtle pulse of his heartbeat was now an erratic drumbeat in his chest.

Finally, the door creaked open, and in walked Mr. Takahashi, the homeroom teacher.

"Good morning, Class 4-B!" Mr. Takahashi greeted, his voice steady and authoritative.

He was the.. sort of teacher who commanded attention without needing to raise his voice, a quiet confidence in his demeanor that immediately settled the room.

"Let’s get started."

As he walked toward the front, there was a palpable shift in the air.

The students, who had been chatting away moments ago, began to quiet down, eyes turning towards the front.

Kazuha felt the familiar stir of unease in his stomach, the sense that something was about to happen—something he couldn’t quite control.

Mr. Takahashi cleared his throat to get everyone's attention, "Before we get into the schedule for the year, there’s something we need to address. It's time for our class officer elections."

A collective groan echoed through the room, the sound of students who didn’t particularly care for responsibilities.

Then, there was a moment of silence as everyone waited for someone to take the initiative. After all, the elections was never something people eagerly volunteered for—it was just a formality, a necessary duty to get through the year.

Kazuha, ever the quiet observer, leaned back in his chair, his hands on his lap. He wasn’t particularly concerned about the election.

He’d been elected in other class officer roles in the past without much fuss.

It wasn’t also that he disliked it... it was simply that he preferred to lead quietly, from the background.

He had never been one to demand the spotlight.

"Alright, well then.." Mr. Takahashi continued, breaking Kazuha’s thoughts, "Let’s get started. I’ll open the floor for nominations. Who would like to volunteer for the position of class president?"

Silence.

Kazuha’s gaze shifted, taking in the faces of his classmates. No one seemed eager to take the lead, and the air was thick with reluctance.

His thoughts began to drift again, as they often did. He didn’t mind being the class president, but the position came with expectations.

Expectations that made him a little uneasy.

He wasn’t about to nominate himself too.

He wasn’t particularly sure that anyone else would nominate him, either. He had always been more of a quiet leader, stepping in when necessary but never pushing himself forward.

The minutes ticked by, the only sound in the room being the occasional rustle of a student shifting in their seat.

Then, unexpectedly, a voice pierced the silence.

"I nominate Kaedehara Kazuha!"

Kazuha’s eyes widened, his body stiffening in surprise. He turned toward the back of the room, where the voice had come from. Tomo—one of his closest friends—was grinning widely at him, hands raised in a mock salute.

"I SECOND THE NOTION!" another voice chimed in, Heizou's...

Kazuha blinked, his mind racing. He hadn’t anticipated this.

He hadn’t even thought to volunteer, much less be nominated so quickly. The idea of being class president was one thing, but having it thrust upon him in front of the whole class was... different.

He glanced around the room, his eyes scanning the faces of his classmates, most of whom were already looking toward him with varying degrees of curiosity.

A wave of heat crept up his face. He wasn’t entirely sure why his heart rate had picked up so suddenly. It was just an election, after all.

And yet, there was something about the way they were all looking at him now that felt... he wasn’t sure how to explain it.

Mr. Takahashi glanced over at him, eyebrows raised. "Well, it seems we have a nominee." He looked toward the class. "All in favor of Kaedehara Kazuha as class president, raise your hands!"

Kazuha didn’t move.

His gaze flicked from hand to hand as they shot up around the room—some with enthusiasm, others with casual indifference.

But then, in the middle of it all, he saw it.

Your hand.

You were raising your hand..

Kazuha’s heart skipped a beat, and he had to take a sharp breath to steady himself.

He hadn’t expected that.

The warmth of your gesture, the way your fingers moved so naturally in the air, felt like a soft reassurance.

He wasn’t sure why it made him feel like his entire world had shifted just a little.

When the votes were tallied, Mr. Takahashi nodded. "Looks like it’s unanimous! Kaedehara Kazuha, is now our new class president."

The class broke into applause, the sound echoing in his ears. Kazuha stood up, feeling the weight of everyone’s eyes on him. It wasn’t that he hadn’t held leadership positions before—but this time, it felt different.

This time, he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more at play than just being the class president.

As the applause died down, Kazuha cleared his throat, raising his hands in an effort to calm the room. "Thank you," he said, his voice steady despite the churn of emotions inside him. "I’ll do my best to make this year run smoothly."

He tried not to let his nerves show, keeping his gaze steady as he surveyed the class.

It was only when his eyes caught yours again, the soft smile on your lips, that he felt a sense of calmness..

After the election concluded and the classroom settled into a familiar rhythm of idle chatter, Mr. Takahashi waved Kazuha over to the front desk. A neat pile of name cards lay waiting, along with a seating chart template.

“As our esteemed class president,” Mr. Takahashi began with a playful grin, “you get the honor of helping me decide everyone’s seating. and if you can avoid putting people with, uh, ‘history’ near each other, you’ll have my eternal gratitude."

“Understood, sir.” Kazuha chuckled lightly, though he felt an almost absurd level of responsibility. It wasn’t that assigning seats was difficult... it was the knowledge that where people sat might define their year.

Would friendships blossom? Would rivalries form? Would someone sit beside someone they secretly admired?

Would he...?

As he flipped through the cards, your name appeared.

It stood out.

Not because the ink was bolder or the letters more elegant, but because it carried a weight only he could see...

His fingers lingered on it for a heartbeat too long before he gently placed it down.

He began filling the chart, hoping to create a fair balance. The chatter of the classroom felt distant as he arranged friendships and personalities.

But when it came to assigning his own seat..

He faltered.

Kazuha closed his eyes briefly, a silent prayer forming.

"To any deity, archon, or celestial being who might hear me... let me sit with [Y/N]."

It was foolish. Selfish... even.

But the thought of being close to you—of seeing you not just as a distant admiration but as a part of his daily life—made his heart race in ways that scared him as much as they thrilled him.

Then, he carefully placed your name beside his own.

“Finished?” Mr. Takahashi asked, peering over Kazuha’s shoulder.

“Yes,” Kazuha replied, keeping his tone even despite the small scare Mr. Takahashi had given him.

“Great. Let’s see how long it takes for complaints to start rolling in,” the teacher joked, pinning the chart to the board. “Everyone, find your new seats!”

The classroom buzzed as students gathered around the chart. Kazuha remained at his desk, his expression calm though his fingers tapped a silent rhythm against his thigh.

He didn’t look up, not even when he heard footsteps approach.

“Looks like we’re seatmates,” you said, breaking the silence.

Kazuha glanced up, his breath catching for a split second. You stood beside him, your smile easy and unguarded, as if this was the most natural thing in the world.

“Yes,” he replied, though his voice wavered. He cleared his throat quickly, composing himself. “It seems so.”

You tilted your head slightly, amused by his formal tone. “Looking forward to the year, Kaedehara-san!"

His name on your lips felt like a melody. “A-As am I,” he stammered, cursing himself inwardly for the awkward response.

As you settled into your seat, Kazuha couldn’t help but steal a glance. Your attention had already shifted to arranging your supplies, but to him, the moment lingered like a dream he wasn’t ready to wake from.

Then... the memory resurfaced with startling clarity as Kazuha caught the faintest scent of cherry blossoms drifting through the open window.

Second Year Sports Day

The school’s sports day had arrived, and with it, the usual mix of excitement and energy that buzzed through the air.

While the rest of the school seemed to vibrate with uncontainable enthusiasm, Kazuha found himself sitting at the edge of the track, away from the heart of the festivities. His usual spot under the large sakura tree, a quiet refuge, stood at the farthest corner of the grounds.

The cool shade beneath the tree provided a temporary escape from the groups of students, their cheers and shouts muffled by the distance.

The only sounds Kazuha truly heard were the occasional rumbles of laughter and the rustling of the leaves overhead.

He opened his notebook, the familiar pages welcoming him like an old friend. He’d been trying to write a poem about spring, something inspired by the energy of the day...

Yet, as his pen hovered over the first line, he found himself distracted. His thoughts wandered, and the words refused to come.

His gaze drifted across the field, where students in brightly colored uniforms lined up for their respective events.

Some were stretching, some were chatting, and others were just as focused as he had hoped to be in his writing.

Yet, it wasn’t their energy that caught his attention.

It was you.

There you were, standing in the middle of your relay team, adjusting the ribbon on your uniform.

It wasn’t that you stood out because of any particularly noticeable trait.

You weren’t the loudest, nor were you drawing attention with over-the-top theatrics.

Instead, it was in the way you carried yourself.

Your eyes seemed to be focused on the track ahead, and your smile was soft yet determined. It was clear you were nervous, but there was an undeniable strength in the way you held your own.

As you adjusted the straps of your shoes, your hands moving in practiced motions, Kazuha felt an unfamiliar tightness in his chest. It was a strange feeling, one he couldn’t quite place.

He watched as you laughed at something your teammate said, your voice ringing clearly through the air, and for a moment, time seemed to stop.

He didn’t know why he couldn’t look away, why his thoughts were suddenly so jumbled. All he could do was watch as you leaned forward, preparing for the race to begin.

The whistle blew, sharp and clear, cutting through the air. The race started with a burst of energy. You took off down the track with the other runners, your legs pumping with determination, your face set with concentration.

You weren’t the fastest.

In fact, Kazuha knew that the fastest runners were already ahead, but there was something about the way you ran.

It wasn’t about speed.

It was about perseverance, about staying steady no matter the odds.

There was no frenzied urgency to your movements. You were calm—almost serene—despite the pressure of the race, despite the adrenaline coursing through your veins.

It was as if the entire world had fallen away, leaving only the rhythm of your body and the goal ahead.

The baton exchange came, and Kazuha’s eyes followed every move. As you passed the baton, you didn’t falter.

You didn’t hesitate.

The way you handed off the baton was smooth, like you’d done it a thousand times. Your face, flushed with effort, broke into a brief smile as you cheered for your teammate who took off next.

It wasn’t a smile directed at anyone in particular. It was a natural, easy smile—a smile that felt effortless and genuine, as if you weren’t concerned with anything other than the moment itself.

Kazuha couldn’t explain it, but that smile...so simple

Made something stir deep within him...

His hand, still gripping the pen, trembled slightly.

He was so absorbed in watching you that he didn’t realize his notebook had slipped from his lap and fallen to the ground with a soft thud.

The noise startled him out of his daze, and for a brief moment, he blinked in confusion as he looked down at the notebook, now on the grass beside him.

He shook his head, trying to clear the sudden fog in his mind.

But the moment he lifted his gaze again,

There you were—laughing with your teammates, clearly exhausted but no less joyful...

And suddenly, it hit him.

He hadn’t noticed you before.

Not like this.

Not until now.

The noises of the crowd faded, the rustling of the leaves turned into a soft murmur.

The only thing that mattered was you—your laughter, your smile, your quiet strength as you cheered on your friends.

In the space of a single moment, his world had shifted.

For the first time, Kazuha felt something he couldn’t explain—a pull, an unshakable weight in his chest.

Now, you were all he could see.

In his reverie, he didn’t hear the bell ring or the shuffle of students around him.

He was lost in the memory, feeling that familiar warmth rise in his chest, the same warmth that had blossomed quietly within him since that day.

But then a soft voice broke through the haze of nostalgia, sharp and clear.

“Kaedehara-san?” The sound of your voice snapped him back to the present, and Kazuha blinked, looking up in mild surprise. You were standing by his desk, your gaze not quite meeting his but still focused on him with an expression that held something like concern, a faint smile tugging at your lips.

“Kaedehara-san,” you repeated, your tone playful yet gently questioning. “Are you daydreaming...? You looked like you were a million miles away!"

Kazuha felt his heart leap in his chest.

The gentle teasing was enough to make him realize just how lost he’d been in his thoughts.

He quickly shook his head, trying to mask his embarrassment with a sheepish smile. “Ah, sorry, I—was just thinking.”

Your smile softened, though the hint of amusement still lingered. “I figured,” you said, tapping your fingers on his desk lightly. “You seemed so... far away.”

“Ah... I didn’t mean to seem distant,” he stammered, immediately trying to explain himself, but the words escaped him as quickly as they had arrived.

Instead, he offered a small, embarrassed laugh. “I guess I got a little lost in my head.” It was then that he realized he hadn’t even noticed when the class had finished, or how the others were packing up for lunch.

The room was quieter now, with only a few lingering conversations and the shuffle of bags and chairs. “Hmm, well, it’s good to know I wasn’t the only one spacing out,” you said with a small wink. “You’ve been pretty focused all morning. Do you need a break?”

Kazuha opened his mouth to respond but found himself at a loss for words.

His heart was still racing a little, not entirely from embarrassment, but from the realization that you were still here, still so close.

His chest tightened in a way he couldn’t quite explain, a feeling that had been growing steadily ever since he sat beside you today.

“I’m... I’m fine,” Kazuha managed, though his voice was quieter than he intended. He quickly gathered his things—his notebook, pen, and the scattered bits of paper that had somehow gotten mixed up throughout the morning—and began packing them into his bag.

But his thoughts wandered again, despite his best efforts to stay focused.

How could he tell you what had been on his mind for so long? How could he put into words the feelings that had been growing within him ever since that second year Sports Day?

He couldn’t, not yet. He wasn’t ready.

But as you turned to walk away, your voice lingered in the air. “Well, I’ll let you catch up on your thoughts then, Kaedehara-san. Don’t work yourself too hard, okay?”

Kazuha watched you go, his heart racing in his chest as the words you’d said echoed in his mind. "Don’t work yourself too hard."

How could he explain that it wasn’t work, but something much more complicated?

That it wasn’t just the class, or the presidency, or the seat arrangement that filled his thoughts..

It was you.

But he remained silent, and he let you walk away, his gaze lingering on the space where you had sat.

Later that evening, after the weight of the day had lifted,

Kazuha sat by his window, the sky had deepened into dusk, the stars flickering above like distant fires, and the air was cool.

It was quiet in his room, aside for the soft rustle of the wind and the occasional chirp of crickets in the night.

The silence gave him the space he needed to think, to process the emotions that were swirling within him... tangled and messy.

He had been thinking of you all day... how you had smiled at him when you called him out of his thoughts, how your voice had sounded when you’d asked if he was okay.

It had been casual.

But there was a depth to it that he couldn’t shake.

The truth was, Kazuha had known for a long time that his feelings for you had deepened.

Ever since that Sports Day in his second year, he had watched you from the shadows, silently admiring you from afar.

He had told himself, back then, that it was just a passing crush, something that would fade with time.

But it hadn’t.

It had only grown stronger, more persistent, like a plant planted deep in his heart that refused to wither.

And now, in his fourth year, here he was—seated beside you.

His heart pounding every time your voice brushed against his ear. He had told himself that the new school year would be the one where he finally found the courage to tell you.

But each time he thought about it, the fear gripped him all over again.

What if you didn’t feel the same? What if, by speaking his heart, he destroyed the quiet connection he had with you?

Kazuha closed his eyes for a moment, leaning back in his chair. “I have to tell them,” he whispered softly to the stars outside, as if seeking some cosmic answer. “This year, I have to.”

But as he sat there, a pang of longing tugged at his chest.

So close... yet so far.

You were right there, right beside him.

Yet the distance between his feelings and the courage to act on them felt like an unbridgeable gap.

His heart ached with the weight of it, knowing that despite being closer to you than ever before, he remained just as far from you in the ways that truly mattered...

But he knew that he couldn’t keep living in this quiet reverie forever.

Tomorrow would be another day. Another chance to take that first step, to move closer to you, to finally show the words that had been held back for so long.

With a soft sigh, Kazuha set his pen down and looked out at the stars.

They were distant, silent, and untouchable—but still, they shone brightly.

Just like his feelings for you.

taglist: @danhenglovebot

divider belongs to @/rookthornesartistry

kazuha fanart belongs to NOT FOUND !! (PLEASE LET ME KNOW.. I CANT FIND THE OG..)

all writing belongs to @svynie. do not repost without my explicit permission, translate or plagiarize.

[svynie]

This Year, Maybe...

SYN0P5IS: For three years, he quietly watched them from afar. For three years, his true feelings were never said. But in their final year, things change. Will he be able to express these thoughts before time runs out? Or will their quiet bond remain just that, until the very end?

TAGS: Kazuha x Reader, Fluff, Angst (lol), Slow Burn, Unaware Idiots, Modern AU, High School Setting, Kazuha's POV written in 3RD PERSON

SERIES: ONGOING

A/N: this was supposed to be just a rlly long fic but as I started writing more ideas came to mind... so have a full length series ! ALSOO let me know too if you wanna be tagged ! <3 MOREOVER!! The one or two word next to the dates arent the official title!! Theyre just a rlly... really.. vague idea on what the chapter is about ! - bot version PRONE TO CHANGES!! Especially the dates, the title of the series, and the scenario of each..

April: The Beginning of the Fourth and Last Year

Chapter 1: April 10, Fourth Year - THE START

Chapter 2: April 25, Fourth Year - AFTERCLASS CLEANUP

May: A Chance At Friendship

Chapter 3: May 8, Fourth Year - MID YEAR FESTIVAL (PREPARATION)

Chapter 4: May 9 - (ACTUAL) MID YEAR FESTIVAL

Chapter 5: May 20, Fourth Year - LUNCH GROUP

Chapter 6: May 30, Fourth Year - MISSED CHANCE...

June: Summer Brews

Chapter 7: June 12, Fourth Year - FIREWORKS FESTIVAL

Chapter 8: June 25, Fourth Year - QUIET POEM

July: Hushed Longing

Chapter 9: July 5, Fourth Year - ART DAY

Chapter 10: July 22, Fourth Year - CLASS PICNIC

Chapter 11: July 29, Fourth Year - EXAMS

August: Middle

Chapter 12: August 15, Fourth Year - SUMMER JOBS

September - December: The Fall into Deeper Feelings

Chapter 13: September 10, Fourth Year - SPORTS DAY

Chapter 14: October 15, Fourth Year - SCHOOL TRIP / HIKING

Chapter 15: December 24, Fourth Year - CHRISTMAS PARTY

January to March: The Closing

Chapter 16: January 10, Fourth Year - LOVE LETTER..?

Chapter 17: February 14, Fourth Year - BITTERSWEET MISUNDERSTANDINGS

Chapter 18: March 25, Fourth Year - END.

divider belongs to @/rookthornesartistry

kazuha fanart belongs to @/inqueueu on twt

all writing belongs to me (@svynie). do not repost on another site without my explicit permission, translate or plagiarize

[svynie]

╰ — red headers . reblog / like if used .

[svynie]

Put another OC in the x reader tag, I dare you...

[svynie]

“ Bound By Time, Separated By Eternity ”

5YN0PSIS: An unlikely bond forms between a god that lives in solitude, and a mortal who somehow entered their abode. For the first time in eternity, Kaveh found themselves longing for the fleeting beauty of the warmth of human connection. Ah, but time never favors you does it..?

WARNING/TAGS: mortal x immortal GOD KAVEH, fluff, angst, Kaveh has no gender and is referred to as they/them, use of Y/N ONCE, reader is referred as a "mortal" throughout, Kaveh's POV written in 3RD POV

WC: 2.5k

A/N: AAH FIRST FIC HERE !! the ending feels rush my apologies :( bot version

In the golden age of gods and mortals, where the boundaries between the divine and the earth blurred, there existed a god who danced between mystery and brilliance—Kaveh, the God of Flourishing Knowledge. 

They were a minor deity under the guidance of Lesser Lord Kusanali, tasked with nurturing intellect and creativity among all of Teyvat.

Kaveh’s appearance was a riddle no mortal could solve. Some swore they were a man of charm; others argued they were a woman of beauty.

In truth, Kaveh seemed to embody both and neither at the same time, transcending the boundaries of mortal understanding...

Yet, Kaveh had not always been divine.

Long ago, they were a mortal—a renowned architect and scholar whose vision transformed Sumeru’s cities into marvels of  beauty. 

Their talent was unmatched, their dedication unwavering, and their heart best with a desire to inspire. 

Their brilliance caught the attention of Lesser Lord Kusanali, who saw in Kaveh the light of something extraordinary. 

When their mortal life was cut short—caught in a collapsing temple of their own design while trying to save others—Kaveh’s Vision did not fade. 

Instead, it glowed with light so fierce, raising Kaveh into the celestial ranks as the God of Flourishing Knowledge.

They lived in the Sanctum of Creation, a floating haven above the nation of Sumeru, was both their sanctuary and their workshop, but it often felt like a cage. a marvel of architecture entwined with nature. Golden spires stretched upwards, draped in vines, and waterfalls cascaded into pools that shimmered with sunlight. 

Though artisans, scholars, and dreamers whispered prayers in their name, Kaveh felt a deep, unshakable loneliness. They were a god, revered and unreachable, their existence an endless cycle of creation and isolation.

Their name was whispered by artisans, scholars, and dreamers, all seeking the blessing of their divine insight.

Yet even gods themselves... are not immune to yearning.

Sure, Kaveh had achieved what most humans have dreamed of— boundless knowledge, and a purpose. 

And yet, as the centuries passed, a longing festered within them —a quiet ache to live among mortals once more, to feel the pulse of fleeting lives.

But they buried such thoughts beneath layers of wit and work, crafting temples and designs that would stand the test of time, as though this persistence and stability could distract them from what they lacked.

Then came the day a mortal stumbled into the Sanctum...

They were an ordinary soul by all means, yet they seek neither wisdom nor miracles.

Kaveh, bent over a half-finished model of a city meant to be placed with the surrounding jungle

“Another wanderer?” Kaveh muttered, their voice carrying a mix of curiosity and mischief. 

And so, the mortal stayed. “I swear, I need to put up a sign: ‘Trespassers will be lectured on a detailed lesson of urban planning.’” They turned, their scarlet eyes narrowing as they took in the mortal who had stumbled into the Sanctum. 

“Hmm. You don’t look like a thief—or a scholar, for that matter. So, what are you? A lost farmer? An adventurer who mistook the Sanctum for a ruin?" The mortal said nothing, only kneeling in silence. Kaveh blinked, startled, before recovering with a dramatic sigh. "Oh, great. Another silent one. Let me guess—you’re here to gawk at the ‘mystical god of creation’ or something equally tiresome?”

When the mortal remained silent, Kaveh chuckled softly, their tone dripping with playful nonchalance. The sound echoing through the grand hall. “Well, if you’re going to stay here, at least make yourself useful. I’m running low on ink.”

And so, the mortal stayed.

At first, their role was menial—organizing scrolls, tidying messy tools, and observing Kaveh’s intricate work from a distance. 

But as days turned into weeks, Kaveh began involving them in their projects. Their words a mix of teasing jabs and genuine instructions

“Careful with that!” Kaveh exclaimed, watching the mortal carry a delicate model of a floating garden. “If you drop it, you’ll not only shatter my work but also my faith in humanity!! No pressure, of course..."

The mortal listened, worked, and adapted, their quiet presence becoming a stark contrast to the chaos Kaveh often brought and an unexpected constant in Kaveh’s routine.

“You know…” Kaveh said one late afteroon, sketching the framework for a new building. leaning back in their chair as they continued to sketched the framework for a new shrine "You’re remarkably obedient... It’s almost unsettling. No questions, no complaints—just silent diligence." He said with a teasing tone, a playful chill running through his shoulders

"I might actually start calling you by your name!” he cut his words off with a dramatic gasp "Imagine the scandal!!"

The mortal cracked a small smile which made Kaveh laugh. But beneath the joy, a seed of discomfort had taken root...

As the months passed, Kaveh found themselves watching the mortal more closely than they intended.

They noticed the way the mortal’s hands moved with quiet precision, the way they seemed to anticipate Kaveh’s needs without being asked. It was… unnerving... how much they had come to rely on this mortal’s presence.

“You’re entirely too good at this,” Kaveh remarked one evening, gesturing toward a perfectly arranged set of tools. “Are you trying to impress me, or are you just naturally infuriatingly competent???" Their tone was playful, but their eyes lingered on the mortal for a moment longer than necessary

But during the quiet hours of the Sanctum, when the mortal slept and Kaveh was left alone with their thoughts, doubts crept in...

What was this mortal to them? An assistant? A companion? Kaveh didn’t want to admit it—not even to themselves—but they were growing attached. And that terrified them.

“Ridiculous. they muttered to themselves late one night, pacing the grand hall of the Sanctum.“They’ll grow old. They’ll leave —one way or another.... And I’ll.. still be here, sketching gardens for a future they’ll never see. Why... bother..?"

But Kaveh knew the answer, even as they denied it. 

Kaveh had learned that lesson painfully after centuries of granting their blessings to architects, artisans, and scholars who sought their aid. Those mortals had always left, their lives reduced to faded memories that lingered like smoke  

Even so, mortals brought something to their eternal existence that no amount of knowledge or creation could replace: Warmth. Life in its most fleeting yet precious form.

“Why do you stay?” Kaveh asked one day, not looking up from the delicate framework of a bridge they were assembling. “You don’t ask for blessings, or wisdom, or wealth. You don’t even seem particularly impressed by all this.” They gestured broadly to the Sanctum, their tone mixing between exasperation and curiosity.

The mortal finally spoke, their voice quiet but steady. “Because I want to.”

The simplicity of the answer surprised Kaveh. It lacked the desperation of scholars seeking enlightenment or the arrogance of nobles demanding their favor. 

It was honest, pure, and completely... different

“Mortals,” Kaveh muttered, shaking their head with a faint laugh. “I can never understand you...” But their hands trembled as they returned to their work.

-----------

“Do you know what the worst part of being a god is?” Kaveh asked one day, their voice tinged with melancholy. “It’s not the immortality, nor the responsibility. It’s the distance. You watch mortals live their messy, brilliant lives, but you’re never truly part of it. It’s like being a painter who can never step into their own masterpiece.”

They paused, tapping their quill against the edge of the table. 

“Do you know what I miss most?” Their voice softened, almost wistful. “Eating fruit that’s just a little too sour. Arguing over silly things that don’t matter. Waking up and wondering what the day will bring—not knowing the answer....”

The mortal’s silence, as always, was steady and grounding, and Kaveh shook their head, a faint smile curling on their lips. 

“Listen to me, getting sentimental. Don’t let it go to your head, all right? I’m not about to start writing poetry or anything of sorts..

But as they turned back to their work, a thought lingered, unspoken and heavy. How long would this last? How long before the mortal’s light dimmed..? leaving Kaveh alone again in their eternal Sanctum?  It was a fear they refused to voice, burying it beneath their usual wit and charm.

“You’re lucky, you know,”Kaveh said later, their tone light and teasing once more.* “You get to grow old and move on. I’m stuck with this... cycle of divinity..." They gestured dramatically at themselves. “Tragic, isn’t it? A god, envying a mortal... Ah- ! Don’t let anyone else hear that...! I still have a reputation to maintain.”

But as they laughed, their gaze softened, the glimmer in their eyes betraying a flicker of something deeper—an ache they couldn’t name, a longing they dared not say...

“You’re quiet today,” Kaveh said finally breaking the tension in the silence, their voice unusually soft. “Not that I mind, of course. I’ve grown rather used to it...” Their words trailed off, and they glanced over at the mortal, who was sitting with their back against a pillar, eyes half-closed in exhaustion.

The first sign was always subtle. 

The mortal moved slower, their hands trembling as they worked. 

At first, Kaveh attributed it to fatigue—humans, after all, were not built for endless hours of labor.

Then, a faint cough here and there, easy to dismiss as nothing more than a passing chill. Kaveh noticed it but thought little of it at first.

...Mortals were prone to such things, after all.

The days passed, and the cough lingered, growing more persistent. Each time it escaped the mortal's lips, Kaveh’s sharp eyes would flicker toward them, concern barely veiled beneath their casual tone. “Are you sure you’re alright? You’ve been coughing a lot?"

“It’s just a cold,” they reassure, brushing it off with a smile. And Kaveh, hesitant to press further, accepted the explanation.

But then came the late nights when the coughs grew harsher, echoing through the stillness of the home you shared. Sometimes, they would excuse yourself, retreating to another room to stifle the sound. Other times, Kaveh would hear them muffled behind a door, an attempt to hide the strain obvious. Kaveh began to notice more—the faint pallor of their skin, the tiredness in your steps, the way they avoided meeting his gaze for too long.

Still, Kaveh told themself it wasn’t serious... they were mortal, and they could handle this. But that didn’t stop the unease gnawing.

And then, one quiet evening, it happened.

The mortal had been standing in the workshop, mid-sentence, when their knees buckled. Kaveh barely had time to process the sharp, rattling cough that wracked your body before they crumpled to the floor.

“Hey! Hey!” Kaveh’s voice was frantic as they rushed to their mortal's side, hands trembling as they supported their weight. That’s when Kaveh saw it—blood staining their lips, stark and vivid against your face...

Time seemed to stop. Their mind screamed for him to act, but all they could do was freeze, staring at the crimson streaks that told them.. this was no small illness.

Panic surged in his chest, overtaking the logic he usually clung to. His mind raced, struggling to grasp what was happening.

“You’re sick,” he snapped, though his voice trembled, the irritation unable to hide his fear. “You humans are so fragile. Why didn’t you... say anything...?" His words were sharp, but his touch was gentle as he brushed a strand of hair from your clammy forehead.

His voice cracked as he whispered, “Why didn’t you tell me? I could have done something—found something…” His scarlet eyes burned with helplessness, his breath catching in his throat as he stared at the blood on your lips.

The mortal opened their eyes, their gaze soft and resolute. “I didn’t want to burden you.”

Kaveh laughed bitterly, tears glistening in their eyes. “Burden me? You think I haven’t already lost enough? You... mortals—always leaving. Always slipping through my fingers…”

But what could a god do against the relentless march of time? No amount of divine knowledge could cure mortality itself.

----

As the mortal’s strength waned, Kaveh found themselves by their side more often than not, abandoning half-finished models and plans. 

They refused to acknowledge the hollow ache growing in their chest, even as they stayed awake through the nights, watching over the mortal as they slept.

“(Y/N..) you're ridiculous, you know,” Kaveh said one night, their voice trembling despite the teasing.

 “I told myself I wouldn’t get attached. And yet, here I am, sitting with you like some foolish mortal clinging to things they can’t keep.”

The mortal smiled faintly, their eyes meeting Kaveh’s. “You’re not as distant as you think you are.”

Kaveh’s breath caught. They wanted to laugh, to deflect, to push away the truth in those words. 

But instead, they stayed silent, their gaze lingering on the mortal’s fragile form.

When the end came, it was quiet. The mortal passed with the same steadfast calm they had shown throughout their life, their hand resting lightly against Kaveh's

Gods didn’t cry. 

Kaveh didn’t cry. 

Kaveh cant cry.

But as they sat alone in the Sanctum, the weight of their immortality pressed down on them like never before.

For the first time in centuries, Kaveh felt the unbearable loneliness of eternity.

Several seasons passed, but the Sanctum of Creation was silent. The tools lay untouched, the scrolls gathering dust. Kaveh couldn’t bring themselves to create—not when every model, every sketch reminded them of the mortal who had once stood by their side.

Then in one particular sunset, Kaveh stood at the edge of the Sanctum, looking down at the world below. “You left too soon,” they murmured, their voice breaking. “And yet… you stayed longer than anyone else ever dared to my dear.."

In their hands, they held a small model—a replica of the mortal’s favorite creation. It was imperfect, flawed in ways Kaveh would normally have despised. But it was beautiful in its imperfection, just like the mortal who had inspired it.

And so, Kaveh placed it on the highest pedestal of the Sanctum, a silent tribute to the fleeting yet precious warmth that had touched their eternal life.

As they turned away, a single tear slipped down their cheek, catching the sunlight before falling into the endless sky below.

dividers belong to @/saradika-graphics

kaveh fanart made by @/danbingzi1 on twt

all writing belongs to me (@svynie). do not repost, translate or plagiarize.

[svynie]

“ Bound By Time, Separated By Eternity ”

5YN0PSIS: An unlikely bond forms between a god that lives in solitude, and a mortal who somehow entered their abode. For the first time in eternity, Kaveh found themselves longing for the fleeting beauty of the warmth of human connection. Ah, but time never favors you does it..?

WARNING/TAGS: mortal x immortal GOD KAVEH, fluff, angst, Kaveh has no gender and is referred to as they/them, use of Y/N ONCE, reader is referred as a "mortal" throughout, Kaveh's POV written in 3RD POV

WC: 2.5k

A/N: AAH FIRST FIC HERE !! the ending feels rush my apologies :( bot version

In the golden age of gods and mortals, where the boundaries between the divine and the earth blurred, there existed a god who danced between mystery and brilliance—Kaveh, the God of Flourishing Knowledge. 

They were a minor deity under the guidance of Lesser Lord Kusanali, tasked with nurturing intellect and creativity among all of Teyvat.

Kaveh’s appearance was a riddle no mortal could solve. Some swore they were a man of charm; others argued they were a woman of beauty.

In truth, Kaveh seemed to embody both and neither at the same time, transcending the boundaries of mortal understanding...

Yet, Kaveh had not always been divine.

Long ago, they were a mortal—a renowned architect and scholar whose vision transformed Sumeru’s cities into marvels of  beauty. 

Their talent was unmatched, their dedication unwavering, and their heart best with a desire to inspire. 

Their brilliance caught the attention of Lesser Lord Kusanali, who saw in Kaveh the light of something extraordinary. 

When their mortal life was cut short—caught in a collapsing temple of their own design while trying to save others—Kaveh’s Vision did not fade. 

Instead, it glowed with light so fierce, raising Kaveh into the celestial ranks as the God of Flourishing Knowledge.

They lived in the Sanctum of Creation, a floating haven above the nation of Sumeru, was both their sanctuary and their workshop, but it often felt like a cage. a marvel of architecture entwined with nature. Golden spires stretched upwards, draped in vines, and waterfalls cascaded into pools that shimmered with sunlight. 

Though artisans, scholars, and dreamers whispered prayers in their name, Kaveh felt a deep, unshakable loneliness. They were a god, revered and unreachable, their existence an endless cycle of creation and isolation.

Their name was whispered by artisans, scholars, and dreamers, all seeking the blessing of their divine insight.

Yet even gods themselves... are not immune to yearning.

Sure, Kaveh had achieved what most humans have dreamed of— boundless knowledge, and a purpose. 

And yet, as the centuries passed, a longing festered within them —a quiet ache to live among mortals once more, to feel the pulse of fleeting lives.

But they buried such thoughts beneath layers of wit and work, crafting temples and designs that would stand the test of time, as though this persistence and stability could distract them from what they lacked.

Then came the day a mortal stumbled into the Sanctum...

They were an ordinary soul by all means, yet they seek neither wisdom nor miracles.

Kaveh, bent over a half-finished model of a city meant to be placed with the surrounding jungle

“Another wanderer?” Kaveh muttered, their voice carrying a mix of curiosity and mischief. 

And so, the mortal stayed. “I swear, I need to put up a sign: ‘Trespassers will be lectured on a detailed lesson of urban planning.’” They turned, their scarlet eyes narrowing as they took in the mortal who had stumbled into the Sanctum. 

“Hmm. You don’t look like a thief—or a scholar, for that matter. So, what are you? A lost farmer? An adventurer who mistook the Sanctum for a ruin?" The mortal said nothing, only kneeling in silence. Kaveh blinked, startled, before recovering with a dramatic sigh. "Oh, great. Another silent one. Let me guess—you’re here to gawk at the ‘mystical god of creation’ or something equally tiresome?”

When the mortal remained silent, Kaveh chuckled softly, their tone dripping with playful nonchalance. The sound echoing through the grand hall. “Well, if you’re going to stay here, at least make yourself useful. I’m running low on ink.”

And so, the mortal stayed.

At first, their role was menial—organizing scrolls, tidying messy tools, and observing Kaveh’s intricate work from a distance. 

But as days turned into weeks, Kaveh began involving them in their projects. Their words a mix of teasing jabs and genuine instructions

“Careful with that!” Kaveh exclaimed, watching the mortal carry a delicate model of a floating garden. “If you drop it, you’ll not only shatter my work but also my faith in humanity!! No pressure, of course..."

The mortal listened, worked, and adapted, their quiet presence becoming a stark contrast to the chaos Kaveh often brought and an unexpected constant in Kaveh’s routine.

“You know…” Kaveh said one late afteroon, sketching the framework for a new building. leaning back in their chair as they continued to sketched the framework for a new shrine "You’re remarkably obedient... It’s almost unsettling. No questions, no complaints—just silent diligence." He said with a teasing tone, a playful chill running through his shoulders

"I might actually start calling you by your name!” he cut his words off with a dramatic gasp "Imagine the scandal!!"

The mortal cracked a small smile which made Kaveh laugh. But beneath the joy, a seed of discomfort had taken root...

As the months passed, Kaveh found themselves watching the mortal more closely than they intended.

They noticed the way the mortal’s hands moved with quiet precision, the way they seemed to anticipate Kaveh’s needs without being asked. It was… unnerving... how much they had come to rely on this mortal’s presence.

“You’re entirely too good at this,” Kaveh remarked one evening, gesturing toward a perfectly arranged set of tools. “Are you trying to impress me, or are you just naturally infuriatingly competent???" Their tone was playful, but their eyes lingered on the mortal for a moment longer than necessary

But during the quiet hours of the Sanctum, when the mortal slept and Kaveh was left alone with their thoughts, doubts crept in...

What was this mortal to them? An assistant? A companion? Kaveh didn’t want to admit it—not even to themselves—but they were growing attached. And that terrified them.

“Ridiculous. they muttered to themselves late one night, pacing the grand hall of the Sanctum.“They’ll grow old. They’ll leave —one way or another.... And I’ll.. still be here, sketching gardens for a future they’ll never see. Why... bother..?"

But Kaveh knew the answer, even as they denied it. 

Kaveh had learned that lesson painfully after centuries of granting their blessings to architects, artisans, and scholars who sought their aid. Those mortals had always left, their lives reduced to faded memories that lingered like smoke  

Even so, mortals brought something to their eternal existence that no amount of knowledge or creation could replace: Warmth. Life in its most fleeting yet precious form.

“Why do you stay?” Kaveh asked one day, not looking up from the delicate framework of a bridge they were assembling. “You don’t ask for blessings, or wisdom, or wealth. You don’t even seem particularly impressed by all this.” They gestured broadly to the Sanctum, their tone mixing between exasperation and curiosity.

The mortal finally spoke, their voice quiet but steady. “Because I want to.”

The simplicity of the answer surprised Kaveh. It lacked the desperation of scholars seeking enlightenment or the arrogance of nobles demanding their favor. 

It was honest, pure, and completely... different

“Mortals,” Kaveh muttered, shaking their head with a faint laugh. “I can never understand you...” But their hands trembled as they returned to their work.

-----------

“Do you know what the worst part of being a god is?” Kaveh asked one day, their voice tinged with melancholy. “It’s not the immortality, nor the responsibility. It’s the distance. You watch mortals live their messy, brilliant lives, but you’re never truly part of it. It’s like being a painter who can never step into their own masterpiece.”

They paused, tapping their quill against the edge of the table. 

“Do you know what I miss most?” Their voice softened, almost wistful. “Eating fruit that’s just a little too sour. Arguing over silly things that don’t matter. Waking up and wondering what the day will bring—not knowing the answer....”

The mortal’s silence, as always, was steady and grounding, and Kaveh shook their head, a faint smile curling on their lips. 

“Listen to me, getting sentimental. Don’t let it go to your head, all right? I’m not about to start writing poetry or anything of sorts..

But as they turned back to their work, a thought lingered, unspoken and heavy. How long would this last? How long before the mortal’s light dimmed..? leaving Kaveh alone again in their eternal Sanctum?  It was a fear they refused to voice, burying it beneath their usual wit and charm.

“You’re lucky, you know,”Kaveh said later, their tone light and teasing once more.* “You get to grow old and move on. I’m stuck with this... cycle of divinity..." They gestured dramatically at themselves. “Tragic, isn’t it? A god, envying a mortal... Ah- ! Don’t let anyone else hear that...! I still have a reputation to maintain.”

But as they laughed, their gaze softened, the glimmer in their eyes betraying a flicker of something deeper—an ache they couldn’t name, a longing they dared not say...

“You’re quiet today,” Kaveh said finally breaking the tension in the silence, their voice unusually soft. “Not that I mind, of course. I’ve grown rather used to it...” Their words trailed off, and they glanced over at the mortal, who was sitting with their back against a pillar, eyes half-closed in exhaustion.

The first sign was always subtle. 

The mortal moved slower, their hands trembling as they worked. 

At first, Kaveh attributed it to fatigue—humans, after all, were not built for endless hours of labor.

Then, a faint cough here and there, easy to dismiss as nothing more than a passing chill. Kaveh noticed it but thought little of it at first.

...Mortals were prone to such things, after all.

The days passed, and the cough lingered, growing more persistent. Each time it escaped the mortal's lips, Kaveh’s sharp eyes would flicker toward them, concern barely veiled beneath their casual tone. “Are you sure you’re alright? You’ve been coughing a lot?"

“It’s just a cold,” they reassure, brushing it off with a smile. And Kaveh, hesitant to press further, accepted the explanation.

But then came the late nights when the coughs grew harsher, echoing through the stillness of the home you shared. Sometimes, they would excuse yourself, retreating to another room to stifle the sound. Other times, Kaveh would hear them muffled behind a door, an attempt to hide the strain obvious. Kaveh began to notice more—the faint pallor of their skin, the tiredness in your steps, the way they avoided meeting his gaze for too long.

Still, Kaveh told themself it wasn’t serious... they were mortal, and they could handle this. But that didn’t stop the unease gnawing.

And then, one quiet evening, it happened.

The mortal had been standing in the workshop, mid-sentence, when their knees buckled. Kaveh barely had time to process the sharp, rattling cough that wracked your body before they crumpled to the floor.

“Hey! Hey!” Kaveh’s voice was frantic as they rushed to their mortal's side, hands trembling as they supported their weight. That’s when Kaveh saw it—blood staining their lips, stark and vivid against your face...

Time seemed to stop. Their mind screamed for him to act, but all they could do was freeze, staring at the crimson streaks that told them.. this was no small illness.

Panic surged in his chest, overtaking the logic he usually clung to. His mind raced, struggling to grasp what was happening.

“You’re sick,” he snapped, though his voice trembled, the irritation unable to hide his fear. “You humans are so fragile. Why didn’t you... say anything...?" His words were sharp, but his touch was gentle as he brushed a strand of hair from your clammy forehead.

His voice cracked as he whispered, “Why didn’t you tell me? I could have done something—found something…” His scarlet eyes burned with helplessness, his breath catching in his throat as he stared at the blood on your lips.

The mortal opened their eyes, their gaze soft and resolute. “I didn’t want to burden you.”

Kaveh laughed bitterly, tears glistening in their eyes. “Burden me? You think I haven’t already lost enough? You... mortals—always leaving. Always slipping through my fingers…”

But what could a god do against the relentless march of time? No amount of divine knowledge could cure mortality itself.

----

As the mortal’s strength waned, Kaveh found themselves by their side more often than not, abandoning half-finished models and plans. 

They refused to acknowledge the hollow ache growing in their chest, even as they stayed awake through the nights, watching over the mortal as they slept.

“(Y/N..) you're ridiculous, you know,” Kaveh said one night, their voice trembling despite the teasing.

 “I told myself I wouldn’t get attached. And yet, here I am, sitting with you like some foolish mortal clinging to things they can’t keep.”

The mortal smiled faintly, their eyes meeting Kaveh’s. “You’re not as distant as you think you are.”

Kaveh’s breath caught. They wanted to laugh, to deflect, to push away the truth in those words. 

But instead, they stayed silent, their gaze lingering on the mortal’s fragile form.

When the end came, it was quiet. The mortal passed with the same steadfast calm they had shown throughout their life, their hand resting lightly against Kaveh's

Gods didn’t cry. 

Kaveh didn’t cry. 

Kaveh cant cry.

But as they sat alone in the Sanctum, the weight of their immortality pressed down on them like never before.

For the first time in centuries, Kaveh felt the unbearable loneliness of eternity.

Several seasons passed, but the Sanctum of Creation was silent. The tools lay untouched, the scrolls gathering dust. Kaveh couldn’t bring themselves to create—not when every model, every sketch reminded them of the mortal who had once stood by their side.

Then in one particular sunset, Kaveh stood at the edge of the Sanctum, looking down at the world below. “You left too soon,” they murmured, their voice breaking. “And yet… you stayed longer than anyone else ever dared to my dear.."

In their hands, they held a small model—a replica of the mortal’s favorite creation. It was imperfect, flawed in ways Kaveh would normally have despised. But it was beautiful in its imperfection, just like the mortal who had inspired it.

And so, Kaveh placed it on the highest pedestal of the Sanctum, a silent tribute to the fleeting yet precious warmth that had touched their eternal life.

As they turned away, a single tear slipped down their cheek, catching the sunlight before falling into the endless sky below.

dividers belong to @/saradika-graphics

kaveh fanart made by @/danbingzi1 on twt

all writing belongs to me (@svynie). do not repost, translate or plagiarize.

[svynie]

V1RU5 . ONLIN3?!.. INF3CT3D

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dividers belong to @/enchanthings and @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more 

[svynie]

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[svynie]

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anypov/gn! reader unless requested, mostly genshin but open to more fandoms, mostly sfw but idm writing nsfw, nsfw characters will have clear content warnings most fics of mine are completed scenarios with endings of my bots in janitor ai.

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WRITING FOUND.. !

001 — KAVEH !

> “ Bound By Time, Separated By Eternity ” ( ... angst, fluff, immortal x mortal, GOD KAVEH )

002 — KAZUHA

> This Year, Maybe... ( ... SERIES MASTERLIST, ONGOING angst, fluff, modern au, SLOWBURN, high school setting )

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