Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The world was quiet now. Too quiet. Yudai crouched low in the underbrush, his breath steady, his hand gripping the hilt of a knife as his sharp eyes scanned the ruins of what used to be a bustling city. The concrete skeletons of skyscrapers jutted out against the orange hue of the dying sun, their spines twisted and broken, crumbling under years of neglect. Thick vines wrapped around every surface, nature reclaiming its kingdom after humanity’s fall. The air was heavy with the smell of damp earth and decay, a reminder of both life and death.

In the distance, the faint flicker of movement caught his attention. A shadow slipped between the remnants of a shattered department store, its grotesque figure disappearing as quickly as it had appeared. A monster. Yudai exhaled silently, muscles tense. It hadn’t noticed him—yet—but he knew better than to linger.

He adjusted the strap of his leather satchel, filled with makeshift medical supplies and a few precious vials of his herbal suppressants. His scentless existence had kept him alive this long, but he never let himself grow complacent. The monsters weren’t the only things to fear in the world. Humans, after all, had their own special brand of cruelty.

Yudai moved carefully, his boots silent against the moss-covered ground. The streets were littered with debris: shattered glass, rusted cars, and the skeletal remains of those who hadn’t been fast enough to escape when the monsters first came. A faded billboard loomed overhead, its cheerful message—“Welcome to Tokyo! The Future Awaits!”—mocking the desolation below.

Six years ago, this city had been alive. Crowded streets, the hum of voices, the smell of street food wafting through the air. Now, it was a ghost town. Yudai’s memories of the past life felt like a cruel dream, a fleeting glimpse of something he would never have again.

He shook his head. Focus. The streets might be empty now, but the monsters were always watching. Their vision was sharp, unnaturally so, and Yudai had learned the hard way that even the smallest movement could betray his position. He kept his pace slow and deliberate, weaving between the wreckage, his knife ready in case one of them got too close.

The sun dipped lower, painting the sky in hues of crimson and gold, and Yudai knew he needed to find shelter before nightfall. The monsters became more active in the dark—not because they could see better, but because that was when humans were at their weakest. He spotted a half-collapsed convenience store up ahead, its broken windows and sagging roof offering a semblance of cover.

Slipping inside, he paused and listened. The silence was deafening, broken only by the faint creak of the building settling. Satisfied that he was alone, Yudai set his satchel down and began his nightly routine. He pulled out a small vial of his suppressant and drank a small gulp from it. The liquid had been his salvation, not only suppressing his heats, but also making him scentless, masking him from both monsters and scavengers alike.

As he was putting the vial back in his satchel, his mind wandered back to the woman who had taught him how to make it. Professor Tanaka. She had been one of the few decent people he’d met since the collapse. A beta, sharp-witted and resourceful, with a knowledge of plants and fungi that seemed endless. She had taken him in, taught him everything she knew, and given him a purpose when he’d had none.

He owed her his life.

The sound of something scraping against broken glass snapped Yudai out of his thoughts. He froze, his hand instinctively going to his knife. The noise came again, closer this time. He pressed himself against the wall, his heart pounding in his chest. Slowly, he peered around the corner.

A monster stood just outside the store, its grotesque form hunched and twitching. Its skin was pale and stretched taut over jagged bones, its eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. It moved with a jerky, unnatural gait, its long claws scraping against the ground as it sniffed the air uselessly. Yudai held his breath. They couldn’t smell, but their eyesight was sharp, and even the faintest movement could draw their attention.

The monster paused, its head snapping in his direction. Yudai’s grip on his knife tightened, his muscles coiled like a spring. For a moment, the two were locked in a silent standoff. Then, as if deciding he wasn’t worth the effort, the creature turned and shambled away, disappearing into the shadows.

Yudai exhaled shakily, his heart still racing. He waited a few minutes to make sure it was truly gone before sinking to the floor. His hands trembled slightly as he wiped the sweat from his brow. He couldn’t afford to let his guard down, not even for a second.

As the night deepened, Yudai lit a small candle and pulled out his journal. The leather-bound book was one of the few possessions he had left from his old life. Flipping to a blank page, he began to write:

Day 2,209 since the calamity.

Location: Tokyo outskirts.

Encountered a monster today. No injuries. Supplies running low. Need to find food soon.

He paused, tapping the pen against the page. The journal was more than just a record of his survival—it was a reminder that he was still human, no matter how much the world tried to strip that away.

Closing the book, Yudai leaned back against the wall and stared at the flickering candlelight. The weight of his past pressed down on him, the memories of what he had endured, what he had lost. But he couldn’t afford to dwell on it. Not now.

Tomorrow, he would keep moving. Because in this world, standing still was the same as giving up. And Yudai wasn’t ready to give up—not yet.

*

The sound of sirens still haunted Yudai’s dreams. Long, wailing cries that had once been a signal of safety now twisted into a warning of despair. Six years had passed, but the memory of those final days lingered like an ache he couldn’t soothe.

He had been in the middle of stitching a patient’s wound when the first tremors hit. The clinic—an improvised triage center set up in an abandoned school gym—shook violently, sending supplies tumbling to the ground. Patients screamed as the lights flickered and went out, leaving only the dim glow of emergency lanterns. Yudai had barely managed to keep his hands steady, tying off the suture as the trembling subsided.

It wasn’t the first earthquake they’d experienced since the calamity began, but it was the worst. Within minutes, the monsters appeared—hulking figures that tore through walls and flesh like paper. The world outside descended into chaos. Yudai had fled with the others, his medical bag clutched tightly to his chest.

Even now, the weight of that bag haunted him. It had been his lifeline and his curse. In the months that followed, society clung desperately to order, and Yudai found himself thrust into the role of a doctor. He wasn’t ready—he hadn’t even graduated—but no one cared. The world needed doctors, and he was close enough.

He learned quickly, not because he wanted to, but because he had to. The wounded and sick didn’t wait for him to catch up. Each day was a trial by fire: stitching wounds, setting broken bones, delivering babies, and watching patients die when there was nothing more he could do. He had been so young, barely 23, but the weight of responsibility had aged him.

Then came the collapse.

Governments fell. Cities burned. Monsters roamed freely, and people turned on each other. Yudai had survived the initial chaos, but his family hadn’t. He’d buried what little of them he could find under the rubble of their home.

When his old neighbor, a man named Nakamura, found him, Yudai had thought it was a stroke of luck. Nakamura had a group of survivors and promised protection in exchange for Yudai’s skills as a doctor. It had seemed like a fair trade at the time.

But Nakamura’s promises had been empty. The group had used Yudai, not just for his medical knowledge, but for his body. Male omegas were rare—so rare that Yudai had grown up feeling like an anomaly in a world that barely understood him. Nakamura’s group had seen him as a commodity, someone to exploit. For eight months, he endured their cruelty until they abandoned him during one of his heats, deeming him too much trouble to keep.

He had been scared, alone, and starving. But in that moment, he had also felt the faintest spark of freedom.

*

The present came crashing back as Yudai spotted movement up ahead. His hand instinctively went to his knife, his body tensing as he scanned the road. Two figures emerged from the shadows—a man carrying a boy on his back. The man looked to be about Yudai’s age, his face sharp with suspicion, his eyes darting around as if expecting an ambush. The boy slumped weakly against him, his head lolling to the side. Even from a distance, Yudai could see the pallor of his skin and the sweat beading on his forehead.

Yudai inhaled deeply, catching their scents on the breeze. The man was an alpha, his oak and petrichor scent was too obvious to mistake him as anything else, and his presence commanding even in his weariness. The boy was a beta, though his daylilies and lavender scent was faint, almost drowned out by the sickly sour smell of illness.

Yudai hesitated. He could turn around and leave. It wasn’t his problem. Helping them could lead to trouble, especially with an alpha involved. But then his eyes fell on the boy’s face. The anguish there was clear, even from afar.

With a soft sigh, Yudai raised his hands, showing he meant no harm, and stepped closer. “I’m a doctor,” he called out, keeping his voice calm and steady. “I can help the boy, if you’ll let me.”

The alpha narrowed his eyes, his grip on the boy tightening. “Why would you do that? What do you want?”

“Food,” Yudai said simply. “I’m running low. I’ll help him in exchange for some supplies.”

The alpha looked him over, his suspicion palpable. Yudai could see the wariness in his stance, the way his body shifted slightly to shield the boy. After a long pause, he nodded. “Fine. But if you try anything…”

“I won’t,” Yudai assured him, though he kept his hands visible as he approached.

The boy’s condition was worse up close. His lips were cracked, his breathing shallow, and his skin was clammy to the touch. Yudai knelt beside him, pulling a small flashlight from his satchel to check his pupils. “How long has he been like this?” he asked.

“Two days,” the alpha replied, his voice tight. “We ran out of clean water. Had to drink from a stream.”

Yudai nodded grimly. “It’s poisoning. Probably from contaminated water. He needs fluids and medicine.”

He rummaged through his satchel, pulling out a small pouch of herbs. As he began preparing the mixture, the alpha’s gaze lingered on him. “You don’t have a scent,” the man said suddenly. “Why?”

Yudai didn’t look up. “Genetic mutation,” he lied smoothly. “I was born without one. It’s rare, but it happens.”

The alpha hummed in response, but didn’t press further. Yudai could feel his eyes on him, though, watching his every move.

Once the medicine was brewed, Yudai carefully poured it into a small cup and held it to the boy’s lips. “Drink this,” he said gently. The boy stirred weakly, his eyes fluttering open as he obeyed. “It’ll taste bitter, but it’ll help.”

The boy grimaced but managed to swallow the concoction. Yudai wiped his mouth with a cloth and turned to the alpha. “He’ll need rest and clean water. If you can boil some, that’ll work.”

The alpha nodded, his suspicion easing slightly. “Thank you,” he said, though the words seemed to come reluctantly.

Yudai packed up his things, standing to leave. “Take care of him,” he said simply. “And don’t let him drink from streams anymore.”

As he walked away, he could feel the alpha’s gaze on his back. In this world, trust was a rare commodity. And Yudai had learned not to expect gratitude. All that mattered was that the boy would live.

For now, that was enough.

Chapter Text

The sun was high when Yudai first spotted him: a boy stumbling down the cracked and overgrown road, clutching a small, worn teddy bear to his chest. He couldn’t have been more than fifteen, maybe sixteen at most, though the dirt and exhaustion etched into his face made him look older. A backpack hung loosely from his shoulders, its weight dragging him down with each step. Yudai froze, his instincts kicking in, scanning the area for threats.

The boy looked dazed, his body swaying as though walking was an act of sheer will. Something wasn’t right. Yudai stepped forward cautiously, his hand gripping the strap of his satchel. Then a scent hit him, sharp and overwhelming, and his body tensed in recognition.

Agarwood and tonka bean.

The boy was presenting. An alpha. And judging by the heavy, cloying smell now filling the air, he was in the middle of his first rut.

Yudai bit down hard on his lip, his body instinctively reacting. A low whine built in his throat, threatening to escape, but he swallowed it down. He clenched his fists, focusing on breathing through his mouth instead of his nose. The suppressants he’d taken were working, dulling the worst of his body’s reactions, but he still felt his skin prickle and his legs tremble. The urge to submit, to fold under the pressure of the boy’s pheromones, was strong. Too strong.

He turned sharply, ready to leave. This isn’t your problem, Yudai , he told himself. He’s an alpha. He’ll survive. You don’t need this kind of risk.

But as he began to walk away, a flicker of movement from the side of the road caught his eye. Yudai stopped, narrowing his gaze. At first, he thought it might have been the wind stirring the tall grass. Then he saw it.

A monster.

Its pale, skeletal form moved slowly, its glowing eyes scanning the area. It hadn’t seen them yet, but it was close—too close. Yudai’s heart skipped a beat.

He glanced back at the boy. The kid was completely oblivious, his eyes glazed, his steps unsteady. He wouldn’t stand a chance if the monster attacked. Yudai cursed under his breath. Why me? Why now?

Shoving down his fear, Yudai approached the boy quickly and grabbed him by the elbow. The boy startled, his dazed eyes flickering with confusion as he weakly tried to pull away. Before he could protest, Yudai leaned down and whispered in his ear, his voice low and urgent. “Monster.”

The boy froze, his body stiffening as Yudai gestured with his chin toward the creature. Following Yudai’s gaze, the boy’s glassy eyes sharpened just slightly, enough to understand the danger.

“Come on,” Yudai said, tugging his arm. “We need to move. Slowly.”

The boy nodded weakly, and together they began to edge toward the nearest building. Yudai kept his movements calm and deliberate, his eyes flicking between the boy and the monster.

They had nearly reached the safety of the building when the monster’s head snapped toward them.

“Run!” Yudai shouted, shoving the boy toward the doorway as the creature let out a guttural screech and charged.

Yudai didn’t think. He acted.

He pushed the boy through the doorway and spun on his heel, drawing the monster’s attention. “Hey! Over here!” he yelled, waving his arms. The creature shifted its focus immediately, its glowing eyes locking onto him.

Yudai ran, his heart pounding as the monster gave chase. He darted behind an old car, his breath coming in sharp gasps. The creature followed, its claws scraping against the rusted metal. Yudai grabbed a piece of broken rebar from the ground and gripped it tightly, his knuckles white.

The monster lunged, and Yudai moved. He sidestepped its attack, using its momentum against it. With a shout, he drove the rebar into its chest, the sharp metal tearing through its brittle skin. The creature let out a horrifying screech before collapsing to the ground, its body twitching once before going still.

Panting, Yudai yanked the rebar free and wiped the sweat from his brow. The monster was small—about his size—but it had been fast. If he had hesitated for even a moment, the outcome could have been very different.

When Yudai returned to the building, the boy was slumped against the wall, his face flushed with fever. His breathing was shallow, and his eyes were half-lidded, barely focusing. The scent of his rut was stronger now, almost suffocating.

Yudai knelt beside him, pressing a hand to the boy’s forehead. His skin was burning. The kid was progressing quickly, his body overwhelmed by the hormonal storm raging inside him.

Yudai sighed. He couldn’t leave him like this. A rut this intense could kill someone so young and inexperienced, especially without proper care. But Yudai knew he couldn’t handle this alone. He needed help.

“Damn it,” he muttered, shifting the boy onto his back. The kid was lighter than he expected, his body trembling as Yudai adjusted his grip.

With a deep breath, Yudai began walking back the way he’d come. He could still feel the alpha and beta pair he’d helped earlier lingering on the edges of his memory. The alpha had been suspicious, but maybe—just maybe—he would be willing to help.

As he walked, the boy’s fevered murmurs filled the silence. He clutched his teddy bear tightly, his voice breaking as he whispered things Yudai couldn’t quite make out.

“It’s okay,” Yudai said softly, though he wasn’t sure if the words were for the boy or himself. “You’re going to be okay.”

The road stretched out before him, long and uncertain. But Yudai kept moving, his resolve steady. In this world, hope was a fragile thing, but sometimes it was all they had.

Chapter Text

Fuma leaned against the wall, his arms crossed as he watched Harua sleep. For the first time in two days, the boy’s breathing was steady, his face no longer contorted in pain. The doctor’s concoction had worked faster than Fuma had expected. He didn’t know what herbs the man had used, but they’d done the job. Harua’s fever had broken, his skin had regained some color, and the tension in his body had eased.

The doctor had left hours ago, disappearing down the cracked and overgrown road. Only now, as the sun dipped lower in the sky, did Fuma realize something strange: the doctor hadn’t taken the food he’d bartered for.

Fuma clenched his jaw, frowning. He had offered the food as payment to secure the doctor’s help, but the man had left without it. Had he forgotten? Or had he never intended to take it in the first place?

The thought unsettled him. Who does something like that anymore? Fuma had grown used to mistrust, to people doing whatever it took to survive, even at the expense of others. The idea that someone would help a pair of strangers without expecting anything in return felt... alien.

But he pushed the thought aside. Harua was his priority. He couldn’t afford to dwell on the doctor’s motives, not now.

For hours, Fuma sat beside Harua, his sharp eyes scanning the broken windows for any sign of movement. The house they had taken shelter in was small and dilapidated, the walls cracked and the floorboards creaking. It wasn’t much, but it was safe enough for now.

Harua stirred in his sleep, mumbling something incoherent. Fuma placed a hand on his shoulder, grounding him. The boy had been through hell, but he was strong. He’d pull through.

Fuma’s thoughts wandered as he stared out the window, the orange glow of the setting sun casting long shadows across the empty street. He thought about the doctor—the way he had moved, calm but guarded, as though he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. There had been something unsettlingly familiar about him, though Fuma couldn’t quite place it.

His thoughts were interrupted by the scent of agarwood and tonka beans.

Potent and musky, it hit Fuma like a punch to the gut, setting his nerves on edge. His instincts flared, his muscles tensing as he recognized the unmistakable smell of an alpha in rut.

Harua stirred again, his eyes fluttering open. He sniffed the air, his brow furrowing as the scent reached him too. “Fuma…” he murmured, his voice groggy.

“I know,” Fuma said quietly, his jaw tightening. He moved to the window, peering out into the street.

At first, there was nothing. Then he saw them: the doctor from earlier, walking toward the house with someone slumped over his back. A boy, maybe Harua’s age, maybe younger. The boy’s small frame clung tightly to the doctor, his head lolling against his shoulder. Even from a distance, Fuma could see the feverish flush on the boy’s face, the way his hands clenched weakly at the doctor’s shirt.

The doctor’s face was tight, his gaze scanning the area as though searching for something—or someone. Fuma’s stomach sank as he realized what was happening. The boy wasn’t just in rut; he was deep in it, his scent nearly suffocating even from this distance.

The doctor’s eyes found Fuma’s through the broken window, and the alpha didn’t need to guess why he had come back.

When the doctor reached the window, he adjusted the boy on his back before speaking, his voice calm but urgent. “He’s presenting,” he said, his words clipped. “It’s his first rut, and he’s progressing quickly. I can’t look after him alone.”

Fuma didn’t respond immediately, his sharp eyes studying the boy. The kid looked fragile, his body trembling with fever, his face slack with exhaustion. Fuma’s instincts were screaming at him to be cautious. Alphas in rut—especially young ones going through their first—were unpredictable. Violent. Dangerous.

“You want me to take him in?” Fuma asked flatly, though he already knew the answer.

“I need help,” the doctor replied. He didn’t plead, didn’t beg. His tone was matter-of-fact, but there was an edge of desperation in his eyes. “I wouldn’t ask if I had another option.”

Fuma hesitated, his mind racing. Bringing another alpha into their space, especially one in rut, was a massive risk. But before he could voice his concerns, Harua’s voice cut through the silence.

“Fuma.”

Fuma turned to look at the beta, who had pushed himself up on his elbows despite his weakened state. Harua’s expression was tired but resolute. “We should help them,” he said softly.

“Harua, he’s an alpha in rut. You know how dangerous that is,” Fuma argued, his voice low but firm.

“And you know the doctor wouldn’t have brought him here unless he had no other choice,” Harua countered, his voice steady despite his exhaustion. “He helped me, Fuma. We owe him.”

Fuma’s jaw tightened, his gaze flicking between Harua and the doctor. The beta’s words struck a chord, and he hated it. He didn’t want to admit that Harua was right.

Finally, with a sharp exhale, Fuma gestured toward the door. “Fine. Bring him in.”

The doctor didn’t waste any time, carefully carrying the boy inside and laying him down on an old mattress in the corner of the room. Fuma watched the boy closely, his instincts still on high alert. The kid was burning up, his breaths shallow and ragged.

“What do you need?” Fuma asked, his voice clipped.

The doctor glanced at him as he rummaged through his satchel. “Water. Something to keep his temperature down. And I need you to keep an eye on him while I prepare something to help stabilize him.”

Fuma nodded and got to work, though his eyes never left the boy. Harua shuffled closer, his presence a calming force in the tense room.

As the doctor worked, Fuma couldn’t help but wonder what kind of person this man was. In a world where survival often meant looking out for yourself and no one else, the doctor had taken on the burden of helping a sick beta and an alpha in rut—two strangers who could offer him nothing in return.

It didn’t make sense.

But as he watched the doctor move with quiet determination, a part of Fuma began to wonder if maybe, just maybe, there were still good people left in the world.

*

Fuma leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching as the doctor worked. The soft clink of metal tools and the faint, earthy scent of herbs filled the room as Yudai hovered over a small pot balanced on a portable burner. His movements were precise, almost methodical, as though the act of brewing medicine was second nature to him.

“What’s that for?” Fuma asked, breaking the silence.

Yudai didn’t look up. “A fever reducer,” he replied simply, stirring the mixture with a wooden spoon.

Fuma nodded, his gaze shifting to the boy lying on the mattress in the corner. The boy’s face was still flushed, his breathing shallow but steady. The scent of his rut hung heavy in the air, making Fuma’s instincts prickle. He forced himself to focus on Yudai instead.

“You’re not giving him anything to suppress the rut?” Fuma asked after a moment.

Yudai paused, glancing up at him with a faint frown. “No. Even if I had something for that, I wouldn’t use it.”

Fuma raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”

“The first rut shouldn’t be suppressed,” Yudai explained, his tone calm but firm. “It needs to progress naturally. Suppression can cause complications down the line, both physically and emotionally. The body has to learn how to handle it.”

Fuma considered his words, his respect for the doctor growing despite himself. There was a quiet confidence in the way Yudai spoke, a certainty that came from experience. He knew what he was doing.

After a long silence, Fuma finally broke the tension. “I’m Fuma,” he said, offering a nod. “And the boy over there is Harua.”

Yudai glanced up from his work, his expression softening slightly. “Yudai,” he said simply, his voice low but steady.

Fuma studied him for a moment. There was something about Yudai that intrigued him. He carried himself with a quiet strength, his broad shoulders and sharp features giving him the appearance of someone who had been through hell and come out the other side.

“You’re a beta, right?” Fuma asked, though he wasn’t entirely convinced. Yudai’s build and demeanor seemed more fitting for an alpha, and Fuma had assumed as much when they first met.

Yudai didn’t hesitate. “Yes,” he said, his tone even.

Fuma’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn’t press the issue. If Yudai was lying, he had his reasons. And in this world, everyone was entitled to their secrets.

The hours passed in relative silence. Yudai worked tirelessly, checking on the boy and tending to his fever, his focus unwavering. Fuma kept a close eye on both of them, his instincts on high alert. He had seen what alphas in rut were capable of, and he wasn’t about to let his guard down, even with someone as capable as Yudai around.

By the time midnight rolled around, exhaustion seemed to catch up with Yudai. His shoulders sagged, and his movements grew slower, more deliberate. Eventually, he leaned back against the wall, his head tilting to the side as sleep claimed him.

Fuma watched him for a moment, noting the way his brow furrowed and his lips parted slightly as though he were caught in some restless dream. Faint whimpers escaped him every now and then, and Fuma’s chest tightened in sympathy. He knew that sound all too well. Nightmares were a constant companion in this world.

Sighing, Fuma turned his attention back to the boy, who was still feverish but stable. He settled himself against the wall, keeping one eye on Yudai and the other on the boy.

The next morning, Fuma woke early. The first rays of sunlight filtered through the broken windows, casting long shadows across the room. Yudai was still asleep, his head tilted back, his body slumped against the wall.

Fuma shook him gently. “Yudai,” he said softly.

Yudai jolted awake, his eyes wide with alarm. “What—” He looked around frantically, his gaze landing on the empty mattress where the boy had been lying. “Where’s the boy?”

Fuma held up a hand, his expression calm. “He’s fine. He’s in the next room.”

Yudai blinked, his breathing uneven as he stared at Fuma. “What do you mean?”

“His fever broke during the night,” Fuma explained. “But his body still needs release. I taught him what he needed to know about ruts—how to handle it on his own. That’s what he’s doing right now.”

It was only then that Yudai seemed to notice the faint scent of arousal wafting from the next room. His expression shifted, a mixture of relief and discomfort. “I see,” he said finally, rubbing the back of his neck.

They stayed in the house for three more days.

Harua recovered quickly, his strength returning with each passing day. The boy’s rut eventually subsided, leaving him exhausted but otherwise unharmed. He introduced himself as Taki. During that time, the four of them fell into a tentative but functional routine. Yudai tended to their injuries and ailments, while Fuma kept watch and ensured their shelter remained secure.

Taki, for his part, seemed to attach himself to Yudai, following him around like a shadow. Fuma couldn’t blame him. In a world as harsh as this one, kindness was rare, and Yudai had shown the boy more compassion in a few days than most people had in years.

Yudai didn’t seem to mind the boy’s presence, though Fuma noticed the way his guard never fully dropped. There was a wariness in his eyes, a tension in his movements, as though he were constantly bracing himself for something.

On the morning of the fourth day, Fuma approached Yudai as he was packing his satchel.

“You should come with us,” Fuma said, his tone matter-of-fact.

Yudai paused, glancing up at him with a faint frown. “Why?”

“Because it’s safer in a group,” Fuma replied. “We could use someone with your skills. And you could use the protection.”

Yudai hesitated, his hands tightening on the strap of his bag. “I don’t know,” he said quietly.

Taki, who had been sitting nearby, chimed in. “Please, Yudai. Come with us. I’ll feel better if you’re there.”

Fuma gave the doctor a pointed look. “You’ve seen how we are. You know we’re not like the others.”

Yudai met his gaze, his expression conflicted. He wanted to believe them, to trust that they wouldn’t hurt him if they ever discovered his secret. But the scars of his past ran deep, and the fear of betrayal lingered.

Finally, he sighed. “Fine,” he said softly. “I’ll come with you.”

Fuma nodded, satisfied. “Good. Let’s get moving.”

As they set out, Yudai kept his guard up, his past experiences warning him not to trust too easily.

Chapter Text

Jo hated nighttime more than anything.

There was something about the dark that made the world feel even more dangerous than it already was. The monsters weren’t particularly nocturnal, but their glowing eyes seemed sharper in the absence of light, their movements eerier in the shifting shadows. The silence of the night, broken only by the occasional howl of the wind or distant animal cry, always set his nerves on edge.

He adjusted the straps of his backpack, his feet crunching softly against the dirt as he scanned the horizon for shelter. But there was nothing. Just more ruins and desolation, the skeletal remains of a world long gone.

Jo sighed, running a hand through his unruly hair. The sun had set over an hour ago, and he knew he was running out of time. If he didn’t find a safe place soon, he’d be out in the open—a perfect target for the monsters.

His pace quickened, his heart thudding dully in his chest. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw it: a faint flicker of light, just a few meters ahead.

He froze.

A fire?

Jo’s first instinct was to turn around and leave. He’d learned the hard way that fire in the open like that was like a beacon in the night, drawing monsters—and sometimes worse—straight to it. Anyone who lit a fire out here was either foolish or desperate. Either way, it wasn’t his problem.

But curiosity got the better of him. Against his better judgment, Jo crept closer, moving as quietly as he could.

The light came from a small campfire, its flames casting flickering shadows against the surrounding rubble. Sitting by it was a boy, no older than six or seven.

Jo’s breath caught.

The boy was small, his thin frame hunched close to the fire as if trying to absorb every bit of warmth. He wore only a tattered shirt and pants, both too big for him, and his bare feet were covered in dirt. He was shivering, his arms wrapped tightly around himself.

What’s a kid this young doing out here alone? Jo thought, his chest tightening.

The boy must have sensed him, because he turned suddenly, his wide, frightened eyes locking onto Jo.

Jo raised his hands in a gesture of peace, his voice soft and careful. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.”

The boy didn’t say anything, his small body coiled like a spring, ready to run at the first sign of danger.

Jo took a cautious step closer. “I’m Jo. Just Jo. I saw your fire and—” He hesitated, searching for the right words. “Can I sit with you? Just for a little while?”

The boy studied him, his small hands gripping his knees tightly. Finally, after a few moments of silence, he gave a hesitant nod.

Jo lowered himself to the ground slowly, careful not to make any sudden movements that might scare the boy. Up close, the boy looked even thinner than he had first thought. His cheeks were hollow, his skin pale and dirty. He didn’t have a bag or any supplies—just the clothes on his back and the fire in front of him.

Jo’s heart ached for him. “Are you traveling with anyone?” he asked gently.

The boy shook his head, his eyes never leaving Jo.

They sat in silence after that, the crackling of the fire the only sound between them. Jo could feel the boy’s gaze on him, wary and suspicious, but he didn’t mind. He could only imagine what the kid had been through to make him like this.

When the boy shivered again, Jo reached into his backpack and pulled out one of the extra jackets he always carried. He leaned forward, draping it over the boy’s shoulders. The boy flinched at first, his wide eyes darting to Jo’s face, but he didn’t pull away. After a moment, he relaxed, his small hands clutching the edges of the jacket.

Jo’s stomach twisted when he noticed just how gaunt the boy looked. He rummaged through his bag again, pulling out two cans of food.

“Here,” he said, opening one of them and holding it out to the boy.

The boy stared at him, his eyes wide with surprise. Then, slowly, he reached out, his small hands trembling as he took the can from Jo.

Jo watched as the boy devoured the food, his movements frantic, almost animalistic. It was clear he hadn’t eaten in days. When he finished, Jo poured some water from his bottle into a small metal cup and handed it to him.

The boy drank it just as quickly, his body shaking with the effort.

Jo smiled faintly, his heart aching for the kid. “Better?”

The boy didn’t answer, but the way his shoulders relaxed told Jo everything he needed to know.

The boy’s eyelids began to droop, his body swaying slightly as he fought against sleep. Jo chuckled softly. “It’s okay,” he said. “You can sleep. I’ll keep watch. I promise nothing will hurt you.”

The boy looked at him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, to Jo’s surprise, he shuffled closer and laid his head on Jo’s thigh.

Jo froze, startled by the sudden show of trust. But as the boy’s breathing evened out and his small body relaxed against him, Jo felt a warmth blossom in his chest.

Smiling softly, he adjusted the jacket to make sure the boy was warm, then leaned back against a rock, his eyes scanning the darkness beyond the fire.

The world was cruel, harsh, and unforgiving. But for now, in this small moment, things felt a little less lonely.

*

The next morning, Jo hesitated before asking the question that had been on his mind all night. The boy—Maki, he learned later—was still curled up in his lap, his tiny body pressed close for warmth. Jo hadn’t moved an inch since the boy had fallen asleep, afraid of disturbing him.

When Maki finally stirred, blinking up at Jo with wide, cautious eyes, Jo gave him a small, reassuring smile. “Do you want to come with me?” he asked softly, his voice almost breaking the quiet stillness of the early morning.

For a moment, Maki just stared at him, his face unreadable. Jo held his breath, unsure of what the boy’s answer would be.

Then, to Jo’s surprise, Maki nodded—quickly, almost eagerly. The suspicion and fear that had been etched into his face the night before were gone, replaced with something shy but hopeful.

“Okay,” Maki said simply.

Jo let out a quiet sigh of relief and smiled. “Okay.”

Over the next few days, Jo and Maki settled into an easy rhythm.

Jo wasn’t much of a talker—he never had been, even before the world fell apart—but Maki didn’t seem to mind. The boy was surprisingly chatty, filling the silences with stories about his mom, questions about the world, or observations about the things they passed on the road.

Jo didn’t mind listening. In fact, he found it comforting. Maki’s voice, though small and timid at times, brought a sense of normalcy to the otherwise bleak and desolate landscape.

One night, they stumbled upon an old disaster shelter, hidden beneath the crumbling remains of a building. The shelter had clearly been abandoned for years, its contents looted long ago, but Jo managed to find a pair of small, dusty sneakers tucked away in a corner.

When he handed them to Maki, the boy’s eyes lit up like it was Christmas morning.

“They fit!” Maki exclaimed, bouncing on his toes as he tried them on.

Jo chuckled softly, watching the boy’s excitement with a warmth blooming in his chest. It was such a small thing—just a pair of shoes—but to Maki, it was everything.

That night, as they sat by a small, carefully concealed fire, Maki finally opened up about his past.

“My dad died when I was really little,” he said, his voice quiet but steady. “I don’t remember him at all. Mom said he was a good man, though. Brave. My mom said that he was a hero who died protecting people from the monsters.”

Jo nodded, his heart aching for the boy. He didn’t interrupt, letting Maki take his time.

“We were with a group of people after that,” Maki continued, staring into the fire. “Mom got sick a few weeks ago. Really sick. She… she died.”

Jo’s chest tightened. He had suspected as much, but hearing it confirmed still hit him like a punch to the gut.

“The others said they’d take care of me,” Maki said, his voice trembling slightly. “But… but then one morning, I woke up, and they were gone. They left me with just a can of food and a bottle of water.”

Jo’s hands clenched into fists. He couldn’t imagine how scared Maki must have been, waking up alone like that.

He now understood why Maki is always clingy when he goes to sleep, always has to lay in Jo’s lap, or lay his head on Jo’s thigh, or hold Jo’s hand. It’s because he is afraid that Jo might leave him while he is sleeping.

The boy looked up at him, his big eyes filled with something that looked like fear. “You won’t leave me… will you?”

Jo didn’t hesitate. He pulled Maki into a tight hug, holding the boy close to his chest.

“Never,” he said firmly. “I’ll never do that to you, Maki. I promise.”

Maki buried his face in Jo’s shirt, his small hands clutching fistfuls of fabric. Jo could feel him trembling, but he didn’t let go.

After a moment, Jo spoke again, his voice soft. “I was abandoned too, you know. That’s why I was traveling alone before I found you.”

Maki pulled back slightly, looking up at him with wide, curious eyes. “Really?”

Jo nodded, smiling faintly. “Yeah. So I guess… we’re kind of the same, huh?”

Maki considered this for a moment, then gave a small, shy smile. “Yeah. Then I won't leave you either.” 

The days blurred together after that.

Jo quickly discovered that he was a better hunter than he had given himself credit for. Most mornings, while Maki stayed hidden in whatever shelter they had found, Jo would scour the area for small game. Rabbits, pheasants—anything that could be caught with a snare or a bit of patience.

On the days he came back empty-handed, they would dip into their small stash of canned goods, carefully rationing out the food to make it last.

In the afternoons, when there wasn’t much else to do, Jo started teaching Maki how to read and write. The boy’s excitement was infectious, his eyes lighting up every time he learned a new letter or word.

“I never went to school,” Maki admitted one day, his small fingers clutching the stub of a pencil Jo had found in an abandoned office building. “Mom said I was too little before… you know.”

Jo nodded, his heart aching for the boy. Maki didn’t know the world before the apocalypse. He had never experienced the simple joys of a normal childhood—school, friends, playgrounds.

Sometimes, Jo pitied him for that.

But then Maki would smile, his face lighting up as he successfully wrote his name for the first time, and Jo would feel a flicker of hope.

It wasn’t an easy life, but it was theirs.

Jo still worried constantly—about monsters, about food, about whether or not he was doing the right thing by taking Maki under his wing. But every time the boy grabbed his hand or leaned against him at night, Jo knew he had made the right choice.

They weren’t just surviving anymore.

For the first time in years, Jo felt like he had a purpose.

And for the first time, Maki wasn’t alone.

Chapter Text

Traveling with Fuma, Harua, and Taki had been easier than Yudai expected.

It had been weeks since he joined them, and despite his initial hesitation, they fell into a rhythm that worked surprisingly well. Fuma was a natural leader—calm, decisive, and dependable. He was every bit the alpha Yudai expected, a force to be reckoned with in both hunting and fighting. Watching him take down a monster with nothing but a rusted machete had been a sight to behold.

Harua, on the other hand, was a quiet but skilled hunter. Yudai had underestimated him at first, assuming his smaller frame and soft demeanor would make him less capable. He quickly learned how wrong he was. Harua never came back empty-handed when it was his turn to hunt.

Even Taki, who was still clumsy at times, had proven himself competent. He worked hard, eager to pull his weight despite his occasional missteps. And when he wasn’t busy scavenging or hunting, he stuck to Yudai like glue.

Taki’s attachment didn’t bother Yudai. If anything, he found it oddly comforting. The boy’s presence was a reminder that even in a world as broken as this, bonds could still form.

Their system was simple, they took turns hunting, scavenging, and standing guard at night. It was efficient and kept them moving, but Yudai never let his guard down completely.

Every night, like clockwork, Yudai took his suppressants. The liquid in the small vials had become a lifeline, keeping his secret hidden from the others. He knew they had noticed—Fuma, Harua, and Taki all watched him take them at some point.

Taki, ever curious, had been the only one to ask.

“What’s that for?” he had asked one night, his wide eyes filled with innocent curiosity.

Yudai had lied without hesitation. “I have an autoimmune disorder. I need to take my medicine regularly.”

Taki seemed satisfied with the answer, nodding before turning back to his meal. Harua had accepted it too, though Yudai caught a flicker of doubt in his eyes. He knew that the beta was more observant than he let on. 

Fuma, however, wasn’t so easily convinced.

Yudai often felt the alpha’s gaze on him, sharp and calculating. It wasn’t suspicion, exactly, but it wasn’t trust either. Fuma looked at him like he was a puzzle waiting to be solved, and Yudai hated how exposed it made him feel.

But Fuma never pressed him about it, and for that, Yudai was grateful.

They were traveling through an overgrown stretch of road when they saw them.

Three figures stood just ahead, silhouetted against the afternoon sun. Yudai’s group froze, their instincts kicking in immediately. The air was tense as they assessed the strangers.

Two of them were alphas, their scents, citrus and sandalwood, strawberry and patchouli were unmistakable even from a distance. One of them was leaning heavily on the other taller alpha, clearly injured, while the third—a younger beta it would seem from the magnolia and black tea leaves scent coming from him, with a cat-like face and a snaggletooth peeking from his lips—stood warily behind them.

The taller alpha subtly tucked the beta further behind him, his protective instincts obvious. Yudai’s sharp gaze swept over them, taking in every detail. The injured alpha’s ankle was swollen and twisted at an odd angle, explaining why he needed support.

What struck Yudai as odd was the alphas’ scents. They were so mixed up together that he didn’t know which scent belonged to whom.

The two groups stood in silence, the tension thick in the air. Neither side dared to speak, as if one wrong word would shatter the fragile peace.

Finally, the injured alpha broke the silence. “JuJu,” he murmured, his voice low and strained.

The other alpha looked at him, as if they were having a silent conversation. Then he turned back to Yudai’s group, his expression softening.

The change was startling.

The guarded look on the tall alpha’s face melted away, replaced with a warm smile that was almost disarming. His eyes sparkled with an optimism that felt out of place in a world like this. It was as if he hadn’t been living in the same hellscape as everyone else, as if he still believed in rainbows and unicorns.

Yudai blinked, caught off guard by the sheer genuineness of his expression.

“Hi,” the alpha said brightly, his cheerful tone contrasting sharply with the tension in the air. “I’m Euijoo. This is my mate, Nicholas, and that’s Yuma.”

He gestured to the injured alpha and the beta respectively, his smile widening as he spoke.

Yudai’s mind clicked into place. That’s why their scents are so mingled. They’re mated.

Now that Yudai was looking for them, he could see the bite marks on their necks.

Euijoo continued, his tone casual but with an undercurrent of urgency. “Nicholas twisted his ankle a few days ago, and he can’t move or fight like he normally does. Yuma… well, even though is a great hunter, he’s not much of a fighter either. We were hoping we could travel with you for a while. For protection.”

Yudai’s group didn’t respond immediately, their expressions guarded.

“We can share supplies with you,” Euijoo added quickly, his smile never faltering. “We even have instant ramen.” he said the last part in the same manner of a parent bribing their child with cookies so they do their homework.

At that, Harua and Taki perked up visibly, their eyes lighting up. Even Fuma, who had been stoic and unreadable up until now, raised an eyebrow in subtle interest.

Yudai couldn’t blame them. The thought of a hot bowl of instant ramen was almost too tempting to resist.

Fuma turned to Yudai, his brow furrowed. “What do you think?”

Yudai shrugged, keeping his expression neutral. “It’s up to you.”

Fuma then looked to Harua and Taki, who both nodded eagerly.

Finally, Fuma turned back to Euijoo’s group. “Fine,” he said, his tone firm. “You can come with us. But if you slow us down, we leave you behind. Understood?”

Euijoo nodded, his smile widening. “Understood.”

As they continued onward, Yudai couldn’t help but glance at the new group every so often. Euijoo’s cheerfulness was almost unsettling, a stark contrast to the grim reality they lived in. Nicholas was quieter, his sharp eyes scanning their surroundings even as he leaned on Euijoo for support. And Yuma… Yuma was an enigma, his cat-like features unreadable as he silently followed the two alphas.

Yudai’s instincts told him to be wary. Trust was a luxury in this world, and new faces always brought new risks.

It seems Fuma was sharing his concerns as well. He kept an eye on the new group and a hand on the handle of his machete, ready for anything.

Chapter Text

Nicholas hissed sharply as Yudai wrapped the makeshift bandage tighter around his swollen ankle.

“Don’t be a baby,” Euijoo teased, hovering nearby. “You’ve been through worse.”

Nicholas shot him a half-hearted glare but didn’t argue. Yudai smirked faintly as he tied off the bandage. “It’s not broken,” he said, sitting back and wiping his hands on a rag. “But you’ve got a bad sprain. You won’t be walking properly for a while.”

Nicholas grunted in acknowledgment, leaning back against a broken concrete wall. Euijoo knelt beside him, his cheerful demeanor softening as he placed a gentle hand on Nicholas’s shoulder.

“Thank you,” Euijoo said, looking up at Yudai with a sincerity that caught him off guard.

Yudai nodded, standing and packing away his supplies. He’d gotten used to treating injuries since joining Fuma’s group, but Nicholas’s ankle was the first real test of his abilities since Euijoo’s group had joined them.

As Yudai zipped up his satchel, Euijoo stood abruptly, his expression suddenly bright again. “Can I ask you something?”

Yudai raised an eyebrow but nodded.

“I want to learn from you,” Euijoo said, his tone earnest. “To be a doctor, I mean. I’ve always wanted to help people, and since the world’s gone to hell, we need people like you more than ever.”

Yudai blinked, caught off guard by the request. “You want to be my student?”

Euijoo nodded emphatically. “Yeah. I mean, I don’t know anything yet, but I’m a quick learner. You can teach me, and I can help you. It’d make things easier for everyone, right?”

Yudai hesitated, glancing at Nicholas, who gave a small shrug. “Don’t look at me,” Nicholas said. “If he annoys you too much, just tell him to shut up. It works for me.”

Euijoo shot his mate a playful glare before turning back to Yudai.

Yudai sighed. He wasn’t sure how he felt about taking on a student, but Euijoo’s enthusiasm was hard to ignore. “Fine,” he said finally. “But don’t expect me to go easy on you.”

Euijoo grinned, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “Deal.”

*

A couple of weeks had passed since, and Euijoo and Taki went hunting. The rest of the group was scavenging near the outskirts of an abandoned town when they heard it.

A loud, heart-wrenching wail echoed through the empty streets, stopping them in their tracks. The sound was raw and filled with so much anguish that it made the hairs on the back of Yudai’s neck stand on end.

Fuma’s hand went to the hilt of his machete as he scanned the area. “That came from over there,” he said, nodding toward a cluster of crumbling buildings.

They moved cautiously, their weapons at the ready. As they approached the source of the noise, the smell of blood hit them like a wave. Yudai’s stomach churned at the metallic tang, and he tightened his grip on his satchel.

Rounding the corner, they froze.

In the middle of the street sat a young alpha, crying while cradling a small, unconscious boy to his chest. Two monsters lay nearby, their bodies torn and twisted, blood pooling beneath them.

The alpha was a mess. Blood covered him from head to toe, some of it his, the rest likely from the monsters. A gash marred his cheek, and two deep claw wounds stretched across his chest and belly. His right forearm was gashed open, the muscle beneath visible through the torn flesh.

But it wasn’t just his injuries that made Yudai’s breath catch. It was the sheer intensity of the alpha’s presence.

The air was thick with his pheromones—aggressive, dominating, and utterly overwhelming. The scent of pinewood and mint was suffocating even though they were outdoors. Yudai’s knees wobbled, and it took everything he had not to fall to the ground and bare his neck in submission. Harua and Yuma looked similarly affected, their hands were shaking, their faces pale and their breaths coming in shallow gasps.

Even Fuma and Nicholas, mature alphas themselves, stiffened under the weight of the young alpha’s scent.

The alpha’s head snapped toward them, his eyes wild and his teeth bared. A low, threatening growl rumbled from his chest, sending another wave of dominating pheromones crashing over them.

Yudai’s head spun, the dizziness nearly knocking him off balance. The growl felt out of place coming from such a youthful face and delicate features. Despite his aggression, the alpha looked barely older than Harua.

Fuma stepped forward cautiously, his hands raised in a placating gesture. “We have a doctor,” he said evenly. “We can help you and the boy.”

The alpha’s growl deepened, his body coiled like a spring, ready to attack.

It was Nicholas who spoke next, his voice sharp. “If you don’t need our help, fine. You could watch the kid die in your arms, if that’s what you want.”

The alpha’s growl faltered, his wild eyes flicking down to the boy in his arms. His expression crumpled, desperation bleeding into his features.

“Are you telling the truth? About the doctor?” he rasped, his voice hoarse.

Yudai stepped forward, his legs weak but steady enough. “I’m the doctor,” he said, keeping his tone calm.

The alpha’s gaze snapped to him, his eyes filled with tears. “Please,” he begged, his voice breaking. “Save him.”

Yudai moved closer, his sharp eyes assessing the situation now that he was near. The boy in the alpha’s arms was unconscious but breathing steadily. His injuries were minor compared to the alpha’s—scrapes and bruises, nothing life-threatening. Probably fainted from shock.

“You’re hurt worse than he is,” Yudai said gently. “Let me treat you first.”

The alpha shook his head violently, clutching the boy tighter. “No. Him first. Please.”

Yudai hesitated but relented. He knelt beside the alpha, pulling his satchel open and retrieving his supplies. “Fine,” he said. “But as soon as I’m done with him, I’m treating you.”

The alpha didn’t respond, his eyes locked on the boy as Yudai worked.

It took time, but Yudai managed to clean and bandage the boy’s wounds. Once he was satisfied that the child was stable, he turned his attention to the alpha.

“Your turn,” he said firmly.

The alpha hesitated, his eyes darting to the boy.

“He’s fine,” Yudai assured him. “Now let me help you, or you’ll bleed out before he even wakes up.”

Finally, the alpha nodded, his body sagging with exhaustion. Yudai got to work, his hands steady despite the tension in the air. As he cleaned the deep claw wounds on the alpha’s chest, he couldn’t help but marvel at the sheer willpower it must have taken to fight off two monsters in his condition.

When he was done, the alpha was barely conscious, his head lolling to the side. Yudai gently laid him down, covering him with a blanket.

Fuma stood nearby, his expression unreadable. “What do you think happened here?” he asked quietly.

Yudai glanced at the two strangers, his heart heavy. “ I don't know, but I think they’re lucky to be alive, especially him,” he said, pointing at the now unconscious alpha.

But as he looked at the alpha’s bloodied face and the boy’s fragile form, and then looked around, he didn’t see any weapons except for a small knife stuck in one of the monsters' bodies. So, Yudai began to wonder, how did the young alpha kill these monsters?

Chapter Text

Jo was nineteen, an alpha, though the sub-gender felt like a cruel joke. All his life, even before the world fractured, he'd been a creature of quiet corners and averted gazes. New faces, new voices, new anything, really, would tie his stomach in knots and send a flush creeping up his neck. When he'd first presented as an alpha, a flicker of hope had ignited within him – perhaps this was it, the turning point. Alphas were supposed to be confident, commanding, born leaders. He’d imagined a transformation, a shedding of his timid skin. But Jo remained the same anxious, shy, timid kid he’d always been.

Yet, beneath the layers of apprehension, there was an unyielding core. Jo was a worker, diligent and tireless, and a learner, quick to grasp new skills, to adapt. His father, a man whose memory was now a precious thing, had always praised that quality, a rare compliment in a life that offered few. His mother had been taken by the first great earthquake, the house collapsing around her when he was thirteen. The grief had been a suffocating blanket then, but now, looking back, a chilling thought often surfaced: she was the lucky one after all. At least she hadn't lived to witness the absolute horror the world had become.

Two years after his mother's death, his father followed. A group of monsters had descended upon the small, makeshift camp they shared with a handful of other survivors. Monsters typically hunted alone, eight moving as one was an unprecedented, brutal surprise. Jo and two others were the only ones to escape the carnage. The other two, hardened by a world that demanded ruthlessness, had abandoned him a day later, leaving him with a small cache of canned food. He couldn’t complain, not really. At least they hadn’t taken everything.

*

Jo could count on one hand the times he’d felt proud of himself in his life.

He had never been the confident, commanding alpha that people expected him to be. Even after presenting as an alpha at seventeen, he had remained the same shy, timid boy he’d always been. But now, as he walked alongside Maki, he felt something unfamiliar, pride.

It had been three months since he found the boy by that campfire, and in that time, Jo had managed to keep him safe, fed, and warm. Maki had been so frail back then, his cheeks hollow, his arms and legs thin like twigs. But now, there was a healthy glow to his skin, his cheeks were starting to fill out, and his frame didn’t look so fragile anymore.

Maki skipped ahead of him, clutching his too-big backpack with both hands. The boy wore clothes and shoes Jo had scavenged for him—still a little loose, but he’d grow into them. The sight made Jo smile, his chest swelling with something he couldn’t quite name.

They’d been foraging in the woods near an abandoned town all morning. Their haul was modest but satisfying, shiitake mushrooms, shimeji mushrooms, and wild onions. On their way back, Jo checked the traps he’d set earlier and was thrilled to find two chickens caught in them.

“Chicken nabé tonight,” Jo promised as he carried the chickens back toward town.

Maki’s face lit up, his eyes wide with excitement. “Really?”

Jo nodded. “Really.” He knew it wouldn’t be perfect—he didn’t have kelp, bonito flakes, or soy sauce for the broth—but he figured salt would do. Maki didn’t care about the details; he was already beaming at the thought of a warm, filling meal.

Jo couldn’t help but feel proud again. He was taking care of someone. He was keeping Maki safe.

The sun was starting to dip below the horizon as they entered the outskirts of the abandoned town. Jo was lost in thought, thinking about how to prepare dinner, when the first monster appeared.

It sprang out from behind a crumbling car, its grotesque, sinewy body eerily human-like in size.

Jo’s breath caught, and his body froze for half a second before instinct kicked in. He grabbed Maki’s hand and turned to run, only to find their path blocked by another monster—this one even bigger than the first.

Panic surged through him as he scanned for an escape. The monsters were closing in, their guttural growls echoing off the crumbling buildings.

The bigger one screeched and charged.

Jo reacted on pure instinct, shoving Maki toward the opening of a collapsed building. The entrance was small, too narrow for the monsters to fit through. “Go!” he shouted. “Get inside!”

Maki hesitated for a split second before scrambling through the gap. Jo watched long enough to see him disappear into the shadows, relief flooding him.

Then the monster’s massive body slammed into him, knocking him to the ground.

Jo hit the pavement hard, the air forced from his lungs. The monster was on top of him in an instant, its claws slashing wildly at his chest and stomach, its teeth snapping inches from his face.

He thrashed beneath it, trying to fend it off, but the creature was too strong. Claws tore through his clothes and into his skin, sending hot, searing pain through his body.

Desperate, Jo fumbled for the knife in his pocket. His fingers closed around the handle, and he pulled it free, plunging the blade into the monster’s side.

The creature screeched, but the knife was small, the wounds shallow. It didn’t slow it down.

Jo gritted his teeth, his arms shaking as he tried to push the monster back. Suddenly, a terrified scream pierced the air.

“Maki!”

Jo turned his head, his heart lurching. The other monster was clawing at the collapsed building, trying to force its way inside.

Something inside Jo snapped.

All of a sudden the only thought in his head was My pup is in danger. I need to protect my pup, and destroy anything that threatens him.

Then his instincts took over. Primal and raw.

The fear that had gripped him moments ago evaporated, replaced by a blinding, burning rage. His vision blurred, red at the edges, as adrenaline surged through his veins.

The monster on top of him didn’t stand a chance.

Jo’s hands shot up, grabbing the creature’s throat. His fingers dug deep, tearing through skin and muscle with a strength he didn’t know he had. Blood sprayed across his face and chest as the monster gurgled, its struggles growing weaker.

With a final, vicious yank, Jo ripped out the creature’s throat.

It fell to the side, twitching once, twice, before going still.

Jo scrambled to his feet, his chest heaving. The rage still burned hot inside him as he turned toward the other monster.

It didn’t even have time to react.

Jo charged, slamming into it with the force of a freight train. The creature hit the ground hard, and Jo was on it in an instant.

He grabbed it by the head and slammed it into the pavement, over and over, his vision swimming with fury. Bone cracked, blood splattered, and still Jo didn’t stop. He kept going until the monster’s head was little more than a crushed, pulpy mess.

Only when it stopped twitching did he finally step back, his chest heaving, his body trembling with exhaustion and adrenaline.

“Maki,” Jo gasped, spinning around.

He stumbled back to the collapsed building, his bloodied hands reaching for the boy as he called out, “It’s okay. They’re dead. You can come out now.”

A moment later, Maki crawled out of the gap, his wide, tear-filled eyes locking onto Jo.

Jo dropped to his knees, pulling the boy into his arms. Relief crashed over him like a tidal wave, and before he could stop himself, he started scenting Maki.

He rubbed his nose and cheeks against the boy’s face, shoulders, and hair, his instincts demanding that he scent him, reassure him, remind himself that Maki was alive and safe.

Maki clung to him, his small arms wrapping tightly around Jo’s neck. But after a few moments, his body went limp, his head lolling back as unconsciousness claimed him.

Panic surged through Jo. “Maki? Maki!”

He checked the boy over, his hands shaking. Maki’s body was covered in scratches and bruises, but Jo couldn’t tell how bad the injuries were. The blood covering him—Jo’s blood—made it impossible to see clearly.

“Maki, wake up,” Jo pleaded, his voice cracking. “Please, wake up.”

But Maki didn’t stir.

Tears blurred Jo’s vision as panic clawed at his chest. He cradled the boy tighter, his mind racing. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how to help.

A loud, painful wail tore from his throat, echoing through the empty streets.

And for the first time in years, Jo was crying.

Chapter Text

Jo's eyes fluttered open, and the first sensation that greeted him was pain. It coursed through his body like a relentless tide, each wave bringing a fresh reminder of the battle he had fought. His chest and stomach burned as if branded, his right thigh throbbed with a deep, insistent pulse, and his arm ached with every slight movement. He groaned softly, trying to shift his position, but even the smallest motion sent sharp jolts of pain shooting through him.

As his vision slowly cleared, Jo realized he was lying on a makeshift bed, covered by a thin but clean blanket. The grime and blood from his fight were gone, and he was dressed only in his underwear. A flush of embarrassment crept up his neck, but he forced himself to focus on his surroundings.

Nearby, a man who Jo remembered as the doctor was watching another man, a cheerful-looking alpha with a boyish grin, as he carefully cleaned a set of bandages. The doctor's voice was calm but firm.

"Don't rush," the doctor instructed. "If you don't clean the edges properly, the wound can get infected."

The alpha nodded eagerly, his focus entirely on the task at hand. "Got it, Yudai," he replied, his voice filled with determination.

Jo's attention was suddenly drawn to a small hand clutching his own. He turned his head slightly, wincing at the pull on his neck muscles, and saw Maki curled up beside him, fast asleep. Relief swept through him like a warm tide. The boy was safe.

The movement must have caught the attention of the two strangers, because they both turned toward him. The doctor, a man with an air of quiet competence, stepped closer.

"You're awake," the doctor said, his voice steady and reassuring. "How are you feeling?"

Jo blinked up at him, his throat dry and scratchy. "Hurts," he rasped, his voice barely above a whisper.

The doctor nodded, as if he had expected nothing less. "That's to be expected. You've got some nasty injuries. But you'll live."

The cheerful alpha set down the bandage he had been working on and flashed Jo a warm smile. "I'm Euijoo," he said, his voice filled with genuine kindness. "And this is Yudai. I've heard you've already met."

Yudai gave a small nod, his expression serious but not unkind. "Euijoo is my student," he explained. "We've been taking care of you. You were in bad shape when we found you."

Jo glanced down at himself, his face heating up with embarrassment. "Where are my clothes?" he asked, his voice barely audible.

"Gone," Yudai said bluntly. "They were torn apart during your fight, and we had to examine your entire body for injuries. You had another deep gash on your thigh that needed stitching."

Jo let out a quiet sigh, nodding in understanding. His embarrassment faded when he looked back at Maki. "What about him?" he asked, his voice filled with concern. "Is he okay?"

It was Euijoo who answered, his voice gentle and reassuring. "He woke up earlier. We gave him water, but when we gave him something to eat, he refused to eat it. He wouldn't leave your side, though. Not even for a second."

Jo's chest tightened with emotion, and he reached out weakly to brush Maki's hair back from his face, his fingers trembling with the effort. "Thank you," he said softly, his voice filled with gratitude. "For helping us."

Yudai nodded, and Euijoo flashed another warm smile. "Of course," Euijoo said, his voice filled with genuine kindness. "We're just glad we could help."

They worked quickly and efficiently after that, cleaning Jo's wounds and rebandaging him. Jo lay still, watching as Euijoo followed Yudai's instructions carefully, his hands steady despite his inexperience. The doctor's calm competence was reassuring, and Jo felt a sense of gratitude wash over him.

When they were done, they gave Jo a small meal—some heated-up canned soup. He thanked them quietly before eating, his body desperate for the nourishment. The food settled like a warm weight in his stomach, and before long, exhaustion pulled him back into sleep.

That night, as Jo and Maki slept, Fuma sat with the others around the dying embers of their campfire. The group was quiet at first, each lost in their own thoughts. The flickering light cast long shadows on their faces, highlighting the weariness and determination etched into their features.

Finally, it was Fuma who broke the silence, his voice low but firm. "We need to talk about what to do with them," he said, his gaze sweeping over the group.

Harua leaned forward, his arms resting on his knees. "Jo's in bad shape," he said, his voice filled with concern. "He won't be able to take care of himself, let alone the kid."

Taki nodded, his expression somber. "Maki's just a kid," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "If something happens to Jo..."

He trailed off, unable to finish the thought, but the implication hung heavy in the air. They all knew what would happen to Maki if Jo didn't make it. The world was a dangerous place, and a child alone wouldn't stand a chance.

Euijoo, sitting cross-legged with his usual energy dimmed, added his thoughts. "They're not going to make it on their own," he said, his voice filled with conviction. "Not like this."

Yudai glanced at Fuma, his face unreadable. "Taking them with us... that's a risk," he said, his voice measured. "But they really need help. Even if Jo was in good shape, looking after a child alone for long terms would be impossible."

Fuma sighed, rubbing his hand over his face. "I know," he said, his voice filled with weariness. "Leaving them behind isn't an option. Not after what we've seen."

Nicholas, who had been quiet until now, spoke up. "They're strong," he said, his voice thoughtful. "Jo took down two monsters on his own while protecting the kid. That's not something just anyone can do."

Harua nodded in agreement. "If he recovers, he could be a real asset," he said, his voice filled with hope. "And the kid..."

He hesitated, glancing toward the room where Jo and Maki were sleeping. "The kid deserves a chance," he finished, his voice filled with determination.

Fuma looked around the circle, his sharp eyes scanning each face. "So we're agreed?" he asked, his voice firm. "We ask them to join us?"

The group nodded, one by one, their expressions filled with resolve. They knew the risks, but they also knew that they couldn't turn their backs on Jo and Maki. Not after everything they had been through.

The next morning, Jo woke to find Fuma sitting beside him, his large frame casting a shadow over the bed. The light filtering through the broken window was soft and gentle, and Jo could hear the faint sounds of the camp stirring to life outside.

"Good morning," Fuma said, his tone neutral but not unkind.

Jo shifted uncomfortably, his body still sore and aching. "Morning," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

Fuma leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "We talked last night," he said, his voice calm but firm. "About you and the boy."

Jo stiffened, his heart pounding in his chest. "What about us?" he asked, his voice filled with apprehension.

Fuma's expression softened slightly, and he looked Jo in the eye. "We want you to join us," he said, his voice filled with sincerity. "You and the kid. You've seen what it's like out there. It's safer in a group. For both of you."

Jo blinked, taken aback by the offer. He hadn't expected this, and he wasn't sure how to respond. He looked down at Maki, who was still asleep beside him, his small hand clutching Jo's tightly.

"Look," Fuma continued, his voice calm but firm. "You're strong, but you're injured. And Maki needs more than just one person looking out for him. We can help you. And you can help us."

Jo hesitated, his mind racing with thoughts and fears. He didn't know these people, and trusting strangers was dangerous. But the fight with the monsters was fresh in his mind, and he knew that he couldn't keep Maki safe on his own. Not in this world.

He looked down at Maki's peaceful face, his heart aching with love and determination. Finally, he nodded, his voice barely above a whisper. "Okay," he said softly. "We'll join you."

Fuma nodded, standing up and offering Jo a small smile. "Good," he said, his voice filled with relief. "Rest up. We leave in three days."

As Fuma walked away, Jo leaned back against the pillows, his hand clutching Maki's tightly. He still wasn't sure if he had made the right choice, but for now, it was the best he could do. And if it meant keeping Maki safe, then he would do whatever it took.

Over the next few days, Jo's strength slowly returned. The group took turns caring for him and Maki, bringing them food and water and making sure they were comfortable. Jo was touched by their kindness and generosity, and he felt a sense of gratitude wash over him.

On the third day, as the group prepared to leave, Jo sat up in bed, his body still weak but his spirit determined. Maki sat beside him, his small hand clutching Jo's tightly, his eyes wide with fear and uncertainty.

"It's going to be okay," Jo said softly, his voice filled with reassurance. "We're going to be okay."

Maki looked up at him, his eyes filled with trust and love. "I know," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Chapter Text

Jo and Maki had been traveling with Yudai's group for two weeks now, and Yudai was beginning to get a clearer picture of the young alpha. When they first met, Jo had been a terrifying sight—a bloodied, feral force of nature who had taken down two monsters with nothing but his hands and sheer determination. The memory of Jo's wild eyes and the raw power he had exhibited still sent a shiver down Yudai's spine. But now, as they traveled together, Yudai could hardly reconcile that image with the shy, reserved young man who walked quietly among them.

Jo had a tendency to flush bright red whenever he was forced to speak or had too much attention directed his way. Even the simplest questions—"Do you need more bandages?" or "How's your leg healing?"—would turn his face crimson as he stammered out a quiet response. It was a stark contrast to the confident, commanding presence one might expect from an alpha, and Yudai found himself both intrigued and puzzled by Jo's demeanor.

But it wasn't just Jo's shyness that stood out. He also kept to himself most of the time, lingering at the edges of conversations and only speaking when spoken to. It wasn't that he was unfriendly—he'd always offer a polite nod or a soft "thank you" when someone handed him food or water—but he clearly preferred to stay in the background, as if he were trying to make himself invisible. Yudai often caught Jo sitting alone during breaks, his eyes scanning the horizon as if searching for something.

The only person Jo seemed to be comfortable around was Yuma. Or, rather, Yuma seemed to have decided that Jo was going to be his friend, and Jo hadn't resisted. The beta would chatter away as Jo listened quietly, occasionally offering a soft smile or a small answer. Yudai often caught them sitting together during breaks, Yuma's cat-like face animated as he told some story or another while Jo nodded along, his expression soft and almost peaceful. 

Maki, on the other hand, was the complete opposite of his guardian. The boy had warmed up to the group quickly once he was certain Jo was alright. It didn't take long for him to win everyone over with his bright energy and endless curiosity. He was like a ray of sunshine in their otherwise grim world, his laughter and chatter bringing a sense of normalcy and joy that they had all but forgotten.

Nicholas, in particular, had a soft spot for the boy. Despite his sharp, no-nonsense demeanor, the alpha's expression would soften whenever Maki ran up to him. He'd patiently answer the boy's endless stream of questions or play simple games with him when they had downtime. It was a side of Nicholas that Yudai had never seen before, and it made him realize that even the toughest among them had a softer side, buried beneath layers of survival instincts and hardened exteriors.

Even Euijoo had taken to teaching Maki, helping Jo show the boy how to read, write, and do simple arithmetic. Nicholas often joined in, his deep voice surprisingly gentle as he explained things step by step. Taki would let the kid play with his teddy bear and even let him cuddle with it when he went to sleep. Watching them, Yudai couldn't help but feel a pang of something bittersweet. It was a rare sight in this shattered world—something almost normal, something almost like a family. And it made him realize just how much they had all lost, and how much they all longed for a sense of belonging and connection.

*

Yudai had been spending most of his time teaching Euijoo. The alpha wasn't lying when he said he was a quick learner. He absorbed everything Yudai taught him like a sponge, asking thoughtful questions and eagerly taking notes in a small, tattered notebook he'd found during one of their scavenging trips. Euijoo's enthusiasm was infectious, and Yudai found himself looking forward to their lessons, despite the grim reality of their situation.

One evening, as they sat by the fire, Euijoo had shared a bit of his past. "I went to a STEM school for middle and high school," he said, his tone casual but tinged with nostalgia. "I was top of my class, actually."

Yudai raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "A genius, huh?"

Euijoo laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Something like that. After graduation, I planned to go to college, but I wanted to take a little vacation first. That's how I ended up in Japan."

Yudai could see the pain flicker in Euijoo's eyes as he spoke, and he knew that the alpha was remembering a time before the world had fallen apart. A time when life was simple and full of possibilities. "You never made it back home," Yudai said quietly.

Euijoo shook his head, his smile dimming slightly. "No. The world went to hell before I could."

Yudai didn't press further, but he found himself respecting Euijoo even more. Despite everything he'd lost, the alpha maintained his cheerful, optimistic demeanor. It was a rare and valuable quality in a world like this, where despair and hopelessness were constant companions. Euijoo's ability to find joy and laughter in the smallest things was a reminder that even in the darkest of times, there was still beauty and goodness to be found.

Currently, Yudai and Euijoo were on their way back to the group with an impressive haul of supplies. They'd stumbled upon a large group of survivors—fifty or sixty people strong—camped on the outskirts of a town. At first, both Yudai and Euijoo had been wary. Large groups could be dangerous, and it was hard to trust anyone in this world. But when they noticed that the group included women and children, they decided to take a chance and approach.

The initial meeting had been tense. The survivors were understandably suspicious, their weapons drawn as Yudai and Euijoo approached with their hands raised in peace. Yudai could see the fear and mistrust in their eyes, and he knew that they had likely encountered their fair share of threats and betrayals.

It was Euijoo's cheerful, disarming smile that ultimately won them over. "We're not here to cause trouble," he'd said, his tone warm and genuine. "We just want to trade. My friend here is a doctor. Maybe we can help each other out?"

The group had hesitated, but eventually, their leader—a middle-aged beta woman with a stern face and tired eyes—agreed to hear them out. Over the next few hours, Yudai treated several of the group's members, offering medicine for flu, fever, food poisoning, and painkillers. He wasn't surprised when a lot of them asked for contraceptives as well—no one wanted to bring a child into a world like this, where survival was a daily struggle and the future was uncertain at best.

In exchange, the group gave them food, clean water, and other useful items. By the time Yudai and Euijoo were ready to leave, their packs were heavier than they'd been in weeks. The survivors had been generous, and Yudai couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude.

Before they left, the group's leader shared an interesting piece of information. "We're heading north," she said, her voice low. "To Mount Poroshiri. There's a fortified settlement there—a real one. Thousands of people. No monsters for miles."

Yudai frowned, his brow furrowing. "A settlement? That big?"

The woman nodded. "We've heard of people who made it there. They said it's safe. Well-organized. They've got farms, water, weapons. Everything you could need."

Yudai exchanged a glance with Euijoo. It sounded too good to be true. But if it was real... A settlement like that could change everything. It could mean safety, stability, a life where they didn't have to constantly look over their shoulders and fight for every scrap of food and water. It could mean a future where they could rebuild and thrive, rather than just survive.

But at the same time, he couldn't shake the feeling that it might just be a rumor—a cruel glimmer of hope in a world that thrived on crushing it. He'd heard stories like this before, tales of safe havens and promised lands that turned out to be nothing more than myths and legends at best or traps at worst. And he knew all too well the danger of getting one's hopes up, only to have them dashed against the rocks of reality.

“Thanks for the tip,” Euijoo said, flashing the woman a grateful smile.

As they made their way back to their group, Yudai’s mind was racing, a thousand what ifs running through his mind.

"We should tell the others," Euijoo said, breaking the silence.

Yudai nodded. "We will. But let's not get their hopes up too high. Not yet."

Euijoo nodded, his expression unusually serious. "Yeah. You're right."

As the group's camp came into view, Yudai glanced at Euijoo and couldn't help but feel a flicker of hope himself. Whether the settlement was real or not, they'd keep moving forward. Because in this world, hope was a rare thing. And once you found it, you held onto it with everything you had.

Chapter Text

Fuma sat by the fire, the flickering flames casting long shadows across his face as he sharpened his machete with slow, deliberate strokes. The rhythmic sound of the blade against the stone was almost meditative, a small comfort in the chaos of their world. His eyes flicked up as Yudai and Euijoo returned to the group, their packs looking fuller than they had in weeks. The sight of the haul was a welcome relief—food, clean water, and supplies were getting harder to come by with each passing day—but what caught Fuma's attention was the look on Yudai's face.

The doctor looked serious, his usual calm demeanor edged with something unreadable. It was a stark contrast to Euijoo, who was beaming as he always did, his energy contagious even when he was covered in dirt and sweat. 

"We had a good trade," Yudai said simply, dropping his pack to the ground with a soft thud. His voice was steady, but Fuma could sense the underlying tension, the weight of whatever it was they had to discuss.

Euijoo, ever the optimist, added, "We also have something to discuss with everyone. After dinner."

Fuma nodded, his eyes narrowing slightly. Whatever they had to say, it wasn't going to be simple, he could feel it. But he didn't press them for answers, not yet. They all needed time to rest and eat, to gather their thoughts and prepare for whatever lay ahead.

By the time everyone had eaten, the fire burned low, casting a warm glow over the group as they gathered in a loose circle. The air was heavy with anticipation, the crackling of the flames the only sound as Yudai and Euijoo shared what they'd learned.

"A settlement?" Fuma's voice was skeptical as he leaned forward, his dark eyes fixed on Yudai. "In the north?"

Yudai nodded, his expression neutral, but Fuma could see the flicker of hope in his eyes. "That's what they told us. A fortified settlement at Mount Poroshiri. Thousands of people. No monsters for miles."

Fuma frowned, his grip tightening on the machete resting across his knees. "How does a piece of information like that even get here? There's no long-distance communication anymore. No radios. No phones. Word of mouth isn't reliable."

Nicholas, sitting beside Euijoo, crossed his arms, his sharp eyes scanning the group. "He's got a point. It's not impossible, but we have no way of knowing if it's true."

Euijoo leaned forward, his tone insistent, his eyes shining with determination. "There's no harm in going and finding out. If it's real, it could change everything. A safe place, farms, water, security. Isn't that worth the risk?"

Taki, sitting cross-legged with Maki snuggled against his side, nodded eagerly. "I agree. We're already surviving day by day. What's the point if we're not working toward something better?"

Fuma's gaze swept the group, taking in the hopeful expressions and the flickers of doubt. Harua and Yuma stayed quiet, their expressions thoughtful but uncertain. Jo, ever reserved, had his head slightly bowed, his hand resting protectively on Maki's shoulder. 

"It's not the risk I'm worried about," Yudai said, his voice measured, his eyes scanning the group. "It's the timing. Winter's only two months away. If we head north now, we'll be on the road when the snow hits. We won't make it."

The group fell silent, the weight of his words sinking in. Fuma could see the flickers of disappointment and frustration, the way their shoulders sagged and their eyes dimmed. 

"So, what do we do?" Harua finally asked, his voice steady but tinged with frustration. "If we wait until after winter, the settlement could be gone. Or worse, it might never have existed in the first place."

Fuma sighed, leaning back and running a hand through his hair. He hated decisions like this, the way they seemed to tear at the very fabric of their group, where every choice was a gamble, every decision a potential disaster.

"Let's vote," he said finally, his voice firm but gentle. "All in favor of going north after winter, raise your hand."

Euijoo's hand shot up immediately, closely followed by Taki's. After a moment, Harua and Yuma raised theirs as well, their expressions determined but tinged with uncertainty. Nicholas gave Fuma a subtle nod before lifting his hand, his eyes never leaving Fuma's face. Jo hesitated, his hand hovering in the air for a moment before he raised it too, his eyes flickering with a mix of hope and fear.

Fuma let out a slow breath, his eyes scanning the group, the flickering flames casting long shadows across their faces. "Alright," he said finally, his voice steady but tinged with a hint of uncertainty. "We'll head north after winter. Until then, we focus on gathering supplies and staying alive."

The group murmured their agreement, but Fuma couldn't ignore the knot of unease forming in his gut. He didn’t know if they had made the right decision. And he knew that the road ahead would be long and difficult, that the winter would be harsh and unforgiving, and that their hope for a better future was fragile and fleeting.

*

Nicholas and Euijoo finally emerged from the abandoned house they’d secluded themselves in for five days.

Fuma knew that Nicholas’s rut would start any day at the time. The alpha’s pheromones had become so thick and potent that even from a distance, they made Fuma’s skin prickle and his instincts flare. When it finally started, it was only natural that Euijoo, as his mate, had spent it with him.

The two of them had been holed up ever since, their temporary shelter just within sight of the group’s camp. Yuma had been the only one going to them, bringing food and water and checking if they needed anything.

When they finally returned, they looked utterly exhausted, their movements sluggish and slow. But there was a glow to them—a warmth that only sated alphas seemed to carry, and their scents were even more mingled together than they already were.

Fuma watched them from his spot by the fire as they dropped down beside each other, their shoulders brushing. Nicholas leaned back, his sharp eyes scanning the camp as if checking for threats, but his hand found Euijoo’s without hesitation, their fingers lacing together.

Euijoo, ever the optimist, grinned at something Nicholas whispered to him before bringing his mate's hand to his lips and placing a kiss on it, and Nicholas’s lips quirked into a rare smile.

Fuma’s chest tightened as he watched them.

He’d never seen a mated pair before.

Mating wasn’t uncommon, but it wasn’t as popular in modern times as it had once been. It wasn’t frowned upon, but people were less willing to commit themselves to one person for the rest of their lives when a simple marriage is considered a commitment enough. And now, in the broken world they lived in, it was almost unheard of.

But Nicholas and Euijoo were a reminder of what it could be. Their bond was obvious in the way they moved around each other, the way they spoke in hushed tones and shared private smiles.

Fuma sometimes felt envious of them.

He’d never experienced anything like that—love, real love. The kind that made you want to bind yourself to someone, to protect them with everything you had. He often wondered what it felt like, to love someone and have them love you back just as strongly.

He wasn’t the only one.

Fuma had noticed Yudai’s gaze lingering on the mated pair more than once. The doctor was usually so composed, so focused on survival, but when Nicholas and Euijoo were in their own little bubble—cuddling, whispering, or even bickering which seemed to be their love language—there was a flicker of something in Yudai’s eyes.

Longing, maybe.

Fuma didn’t blame him. In a world as harsh and unforgiving as this, love like Nicholas and Euijoo’s was a rare thing.

And sometimes, Fuma thought, it was the rare things that kept people going.

Chapter Text

Yudai sat cross-legged near the fire, his fingers lightly brushing against the small pouch he was holding. Inside were the precious remnants of his herbal suppressants—just enough for a week, maybe less if he was being honest with himself. He had already been cutting the dosage, trying to stretch his supply as far as it could go, but the strain was beginning to show.

The sharp tang of his own anxiety clung to him. He hated it, the way it gnawed at the edges of his usually steady composure. He prided himself on being calm and level-headed, but as the days passed and his bag grew lighter, the knot in his chest tightened.

“Yudai.”

The deep voice startled him, and he looked up to see Fuma standing nearby, his arms crossed and his dark eyes fixed on him.

“You’ve been tense lately,” Fuma said, his tone even but edged with quiet concern. “What’s bothering you?”

Yudai hesitated, his hands stilling over the pouch. He had been careful not to let his distress show too much, but Fuma was too observant to miss it.

“It’s nothing,” Yudai said at first, but the weight of Fuma’s gaze made him falter. After a long moment, he sighed and looked down. “I’m running out of the herbs I use to brew my medicine.”

Fuma’s brow furrowed. “How bad is it?”

“Bad,” Yudai admitted. “I’ve been lowering my dosage, but even then, I don’t have more than a week’s worth left. Maybe less.”

Fuma was silent for a moment, his expression unreadable. “Where do you usually get the herbs?”

“There’s a place,” Yudai said, reluctant. “It’s about four days from here. I’ve been there before. It’s safe enough if I’m careful.”

Fuma didn’t respond immediately. His jaw tightened, and he seemed lost in thought. After a long pause, he said, “I’ll come with you.”

Yudai blinked, surprised. “That’s not necessary. I can go on my own and be back in a week.”

“I’m not doubting your strength or what you’re capable of,” Fuma said firmly, cutting him off. “It’s safer with two people to travel together. Always has been, always will be.”

Yudai opened his mouth to argue, but the look on Fuma’s face silenced him. There was no use trying to change his mind.

“Fine,” Yudai said with a sigh. “But we’ll need to let the others know.”

Fuma nodded. “We leave tomorrow morning. I’ll put Euijoo in charge while we’re gone.”

The next morning, after explaining their plans to the rest of the group, Yudai and Fuma set off. Euijoo had accepted temporary leadership without hesitation, his usual cheerfulness tempered by a quiet confidence that Fuma seemed to trust implicitly.

Harua had been the only one to show visible concern, his sharp eyes flicking between Fuma and Yudai as they prepared to leave. He didn’t say much, but Yudai could feel the weight of his unspoken worry.

The first day of their journey passed uneventfully.

The woods were quiet, the air cool and crisp with the promise of autumn. Yudai noticed, however, that Fuma seemed more on edge than usual. His movements were sharper, his gaze constantly scanning their surroundings.

At first, Yudai assumed it was because Fuma was worried about leaving the group behind. He knew how much Fuma cared for the others, especially Harua. But the tension in Fuma’s body didn’t ease, even as the day stretched on.

By the second day, the reason became clear.

It was subtle at first, but Yudai began to notice the changes in Fuma’s scent. It was getting stronger, more potent, carrying a faint muskiness that wasn’t there before.

Pre-rut.

The realization sent a flicker of unease through Yudai. He glanced at Fuma, who didn’t seem to notice the shift in his own body.

Yudai hesitated before speaking. “Fuma.”

The alpha turned to him, his expression calm but sharp as always.

“Are you feeling… different?” Yudai asked carefully.

Fuma frowned. “What do you mean?”

Yudai hesitated again, then said, “Your scent. It’s stronger. I think you're in pre-rut.”

Fuma blinked, his frown deepening as he seemed to process the information. He exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t notice.”

Yudai’s unease grew. Pre-rut wasn’t dangerous in itself, but it was a warning of what was to come. A full rut was unpredictable. Most mature alphas like Fuma had better control over their instincts, but there was always a chance things could spiral out of control, especially if they weren’t prepared.

“Will you be alright?” Yudai asked cautiously.

Fuma met his gaze, and for a moment, Yudai thought he saw a flicker of something vulnerable in the alpha’s dark eyes. But then it was gone, replaced by calm determination.

“I’ll be fine,” Fuma said evenly. “I’ve handled worse.”

Yudai nodded, though he couldn’t entirely shake his worry. He reminded himself that Fuma was a seasoned alpha, someone who carried himself with quiet strength and composure. If anyone could handle a rut without losing control, it was Fuma.

Still, the thought of being alone with an alpha in rut made Yudai’s stomach twist. He tried to push the fear aside, focusing instead on the task at hand.

As they continued their journey, Yudai found himself watching Fuma more closely.

The alpha’s scent grew stronger as the day wore on, but his demeanor remained steady. He was as calm and focused as ever, his sharp eyes scanning their surroundings for any sign of danger.

Yudai told himself that there was nothing to worry about. Fuma was in control.

And yet, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the woods grew darker, Yudai couldn’t help but feel a faint thread of unease.

*

Fuma’s body felt heavy, his mind fogged and distant, as if swimming through molasses. Every muscle ached, but not in the way that came with exhaustion or injury. No, this was something different. Something primal.

And then there was the scent.

Sweet and intoxicating, it filled his senses, drowning out everything else. Blueberry and vanilla ice cream—soft, cool, and utterly delicious. It was faint, but so seductive that Fuma couldn’t help but follow it. He needed to get closer. He needed more.

His body moved on instinct, guided by that irresistible pull. His nose brushed the source of the scent, and a low sound of satisfaction rumbled in his chest as he buried his face in the warmth of it. Skin. Soft, warm skin. A neck.

He didn’t think. He couldn’t think. All that mattered was the scent, the taste. He rubbed his nose against the neck, inhaling deeply, and then his lips followed. He licked, sucked, tasted. The flavor was even better and sweeter than the scent, and it sent a shiver of satisfaction through his entire body.

Somewhere in the haze, a pair of hands pressed against his chest, trying to push him away.

The faintest flicker of awareness sparked in the back of his mind, but it was drowned out by the primal urge roaring through him. He growled low in his throat, displeased by the resistance, and easily captured the hands, pinning them down.

The body beneath him thrashed and struggled, but Fuma’s growl deepened, a warning. The movements stilled, the body going rigid beneath him.

And then it came.

A high-pitched, keening sound that sent an ice-cold jolt through his haze.

The scent that had been so sweet and alluring began to sour, sharp with fear and distress.

That was enough to snap him out of it.

Fuma’s mind cleared just enough to register what he was doing, where he was, and more importantly, who was under him.

His eyes shot open, and he froze. Beneath him, trapped under his weight, was Yudai.

The doctor’s face was pale, his eyes wide and filled with terror.

Of me. Fuma thought.

The realization hit Fuma like a punch to the gut. He stared down at Yudai, his hands still pinning the other man’s wrists, his body a looming threat. Shame flooded him, hot and suffocating, as he finally became aware of his own scent—thick, heavy, and unmistakably rut-driven.

His rut had started. Maybe hours ago while he was asleep.

But then his thoughts twisted back to the scent. That sweet, irresistible scent that had drawn him in. It was still there, faint and mingled with fear, but now he could clearly tell where it was coming from.

Yudai.

Fuma stared at him, confusion and disbelief warring in his mind. That scent… it didn’t belong to an alpha or a beta. It couldn’t. 

And that Keening sound could only belong to an omega in distress.

“Omega?” The word slipped from his lips before he could stop it.

Yudai whimpered at the word, his entire body trembling beneath Fuma.

Fuma’s mind reeled. How? Yudai was a man. How could he be an omega? Was that even possible?

But now, staring down at Yudai, it all began to make sense.

The way Yudai was always on edge, his guard never fully down. How he kept others at arm’s length, never letting anyone get too close. He wasn’t just cautious—he was protecting himself, hiding his identity to stay safe in a world where being an omega was dangerous.

Fuma felt the weight of his actions like a crushing stone on his chest. He’d put Yudai—a man who had done everything to protect himself—in a position where he had no control, no safety.

Yudai took advantage of Fuma’s distraction.

With a surge of strength born from fear and desperation, he shoved Fuma with everything he had. Fuma, caught off guard, stumbled back, and Yudai scrambled to his feet.

Grabbing his leather satchel, Yudai ran.

“Yudai, wait!” Fuma called after him, his voice hoarse. He started to rise, his instincts screaming at him to follow, to catch him, to fix this.

But he stopped himself.

Yudai needed space. He was terrified, and chasing after him now would only make it worse.

Fuma sat back, his head dropping into his hands as the shame washed over him again. He could still feel the ghost of Yudai’s skin against his lips, the scent of fear lingering in the air.

He told himself Yudai would come back once he calmed down.

But deep down, Fuma couldn’t shake the gnawing fear that he’d just made a terrible mistake.

One he might not be able to fix.

Chapter Text

Fuma’s rut had taken another day to fully subside, leaving him exhausted and ashamed in its wake. The sharp edge of his instincts had dulled, and the haze clouding his mind was gone, but the guilt remained.

He had hoped—prayed—that Yudai would return during the night or the following morning, but his hopes were in vain. Yudai hadn’t come back.

Now, as Fuma followed the faint trail of Yudai’s scent through the woods, the knot of regret in his chest grew tighter. The sweet, familiar scent of blueberry and vanilla ice cream lingered faintly in the air, guiding him forward, but it was weaker than before.

And then, it stopped.

Fuma froze, his heart sinking. He turned in a slow circle, inhaling deeply, but the trail was gone. The scent had come to an abrupt end, leaving him standing in the middle of the forest with nothing but silence around him.

He spent the rest of the day searching, retracing his steps, scouring every direction for any sign of Yudai. When night fell, he set up a small camp and continued his search at first light.

But after two more days of fruitless searching, he finally admitted defeat.

Fuma’s heart felt heavy as he turned back toward the group’s camp. Deep down, he knew Yudai wouldn’t be there when he returned, but the faint hope that the doctor might have somehow made his way back kept him moving.

When Fuma arrived at the camp, the others were relieved to see him.

But their relief quickly turned to worry when they realized Yudai wasn’t with him.

“Where’s Yudai?” Taki asked, his voice trembling slightly. His wide eyes darted behind Fuma, searching for the familiar figure of the doctor.

Fuma hesitated, his throat tightening. He didn’t want to answer. He didn’t want to see the hurt and panic on their faces. And more than that, he didn’t know if he had the right to tell Yudai’s secret to anyone.

But then Taki’s eyes began to fill with tears and panic, his voice breaking as he whispered, “Is he… is he dead?”

The raw fear in Taki’s voice loosened Fuma’s lips.

“No,” Fuma said quickly, his voice firm. “He’s not dead.”

The others stared at him, their worry palpable, waiting for him to explain.

Fuma took a deep breath, his shoulders sagging under the weight of his guilt. “I’ll tell you everything,” he said quietly.

And he did.

He told them about his rut, about how it had started without him realizing, and how he had acted on instinct. He told them how he had pinned Yudai down, how the doctor’s fear had snapped him out of his haze. And finally, he told them about the truth he had discovered in that moment—the truth about Yudai being an omega.

The group was stunned into silence.

“An omega?” Harua said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “But… he’s a man.”

“I didn’t even know that was possible,” Nicholas muttered, his sharp eyes narrowing.

“It is,” Euijoo said, breaking the silence.

Fuma turned to him, surprised. “You knew?”

Euijoo shook his head. “Not for sure. But I had a hunch.”

The others stared at him, waiting for him to explain.

Euijoo leaned back, his expression thoughtful. “Yudai told me once that the herbs and liquid he always took were for some autoimmune condition. But later, he showed me how to make medicine for a condition like that, and the herbs he used were completely different.”

He paused, glancing at the others. “That made me suspicious. And I’ve heard about male omegas before. One of my classmates in high school back in Korea presented as one. He told me he was one of only two in the entire country at the time. That’s how rare they are.”

“How is that even possible?” Harua asked, his brow furrowed.

Euijoo nodded, as if he’d been expecting the question. “It’s genetic. People have three genes that determine if they’re alpha, beta, or omega. During pregnancy, when the fetus develops its sex, two of those genes become dormant, leaving just one to determine their secondary gender later in life.”

He gestured as he explained. “In most cases, male fetuses present as alphas or betas, and females present as betas or omegas. But in extremely rare cases, the alpha and beta genes in a male fetus become dormant, leaving only the omega gene. That’s why male omegas are so rare, because it’s kind of a mutation.”

The group was silent as they absorbed the information.

“If male omegas exist,” Harua asked hesitantly, “does that mean female alphas do too?”

Euijoo shrugged. “I don’t know. I looked into it when my classmate presented, but I didn’t find anything. I barely found anything about male omegas at all, all I know about them was from my classmate.”

Taki, who had been quiet throughout the conversation, said, “Why didn't he tell us?” his voice full of hurt.

“It is understandable.” Nicholas answered, “You’re young, so I’m not sure how much you know about how oppressed omegas were. I mean until sixty years ago, they were considered as a property that alphas and betas owned, if not their parent then their mate. They couldn’t live alone, work, or even own a property, and when their guardian died, the heir of that guardian inherited that omega or omegas as if they were a piece of furniture.” he continued.

“There were no laws to protect them and guarantee their rights until the mid eighties, where they could live independently, work, own property, and vote. Hell! Until the early 2000s, alphas who raped an omega could get away with it if they say that the omega’s pheromones made them lose control over themselves, and shift the blame to their victims, and the court would rule in their favor.” said Euijoo, “Now with no laws to protect them, you can see why Yudai was careful not to reveal that he’s an omega.” 

Taki was quiet for a few moments, processing everything he'd heard before suddenly standing and walking away, his head bowed.

Fuma’s chest tightened as he watched him go.

The next few days passed in a haze of melancholy.

The group was still processing Yudai’s disappearance, and the hope that he might return before winter hung heavy in the air.

Taki, out of all of them, took the news the hardest. He had grown attached to the doctor, seeing him as an older brother, and his usual cheeriness was nowhere to be found.

At night, Fuma could hear him crying softly, clutching his teddy bear as if it were the only thing anchoring him. The pitiful sound of his sniffles and muffled sobs broke Fuma’s heart. Every time, the guilt twisted deeper, and he cursed himself for not going after Yudai when he had the chance.

The others tried to cheer Taki up, inviting him to join them on hunts or scavenging trips. He went along, but his sadness was always palpable, a dark cloud hanging over him.

What surprised Fuma was Harua’s role in comforting Taki.

One night, Fuma had watched as Harua sat beside Taki, the young alpha trembling with suppressed tears. Harua leaned in, pressing his nose to Taki’s neck and rubbing gently.

Fuma blinked, startled. Scenting?

He watched as Harua continued, rubbing his nose and cheeks over Taki’s neck and jaw, his movements slow and deliberate and the air was blooming with his daylilies and lavender scent, carrying soothing pheromones. Taki’s trembling eased, his body relaxing into the beta’s touch. Harua pulled him close, wrapping his arms around him and placing a kiss on top of the young alpha’s head. He held him until he fell asleep.

Fuma had never seen them so close before. He didn’t even know they had grown that close. But it was clear now that Harua’s calming presence was one of the few things helping Taki hold himself together.

Fuma turned away from the sight as it felt too private and intimate for him to keep looking. The group was holding on, but the cracks in their foundation were spreading.

And it was all because of him.

Chapter Text

It had been nearly a month since Yudai’s disappearance, and despite the lingering sadness in their camp, life had to move forward. Winter was closing in fast, and the group had no choice but to prepare for the harsh months ahead.

Euijoo glanced at the others as they worked around the camp. Fuma, Harua, and Jo had managed to hunt two deer the day before, and the group was busy curing the meat with the large quantity of salt they’d managed to secure. Taki was helping Harua hang thin strips of venison on racks to dry, while Nicholas and Jo worked on cleaning and preparing the hides to be used for warmth.

Nearby, Euijoo was sorting through bundles of mushrooms, wild vegetables, and herbs that they’d foraged over the last week. Most of it was already drying in the sun, spread out on flat rocks and wooden boards. The sight of their growing stores was a small comfort—an assurance that they wouldn’t starve when the snow came.

Still, the absence of Yudai was felt in every corner of their camp.

Taki was coming to terms with the doctor’s disappearance, though the dark clouds of sadness and depression still hung over him. His usual cheeriness was nowhere to be found, replaced by a quiet, subdued version of himself.

It broke Euijoo’s heart to see the younger alpha like this. Taki had clung to Yudai, looking up to him as an older brother. Without him, Taki seemed lost, untethered.

Euijoo had noticed the way Harua had stepped in, trying to comfort Taki in his own way. The beta was gentle but firm, guiding Taki through tasks and offering quiet moments of support. It was clear that Harua cared deeply for him, and Euijoo was grateful for it.

Euijoo had thrown himself into his work, both to distract himself and to contribute as much as he could to the group. Although he still had much to learn from Yudai, he had watched the doctor closely enough to pick up the basics.

He had started bartering with his newfound medical skills, offering treatment to other groups and packs in exchange for supplies.

Thankfully, none of the groups he encountered had any complicated illnesses or injuries. Most of the cases were straightforward—fevers, minor infections, or wounds that needed cleaning and stitching. He treated them all successfully, and in return, he secured a large haul of food, extra clothes, and other supplies for his group.

When he returned to camp with his spoils, he saw the way the others’ faces lit up, their worries easing just a little.

He hoped his efforts would help, especially Fuma.

Euijoo had noticed how the older alpha had withdrawn into himself over the past weeks. Fuma carried the weight of Yudai’s disappearance like a stone on his back, his guilt evident in the way his shoulders slumped and his eyes seemed distant.

Euijoo and Nicholas had tried to console him, telling him that Yudai’s departure wasn’t his fault.

“He’s gone because I lost control,” Fuma had said one night, his voice low and filled with regret. “That’s on me.”

“Fuma,” Nicholas had replied gently, “you said it yourself—this was your first rut with someone else nearby. You didn’t know how your instincts would react. That’s not something you could have prepared for.”

“It’s not an excuse,” Fuma had said, shaking his head. “I should’ve been more careful. I should’ve done better.”

Euijoo had chimed in then. “You’re human, Fuma. We all make mistakes. What matters is what we do next.”

But no matter what they said, the guilt lingered.

Fuma spent most of his time working—hunting, gathering firewood, repairing their shelter. He rarely spoke unless necessary, and when he did, his voice held a heaviness that hadn’t been there before.

Euijoo could see how deeply he regretted what had happened, and it hurt to watch. He hoped that, after winter, they might meet Yudai on the road to the north.

The truth was, the group had grown fond of Yudai in ways they hadn’t even realized until he was gone.

Yudai had been a steady presence among them, his calm demeanor and quiet strength offering a sense of stability in an unstable world. He had cared for them, patched them up when they were hurt, and guided them with his quiet wisdom.

Euijoo wasn’t sure if Yudai would ever come back, but he hoped.

He hoped that Fuma would have a chance to apologize, to fix things, and to stop living with regret. He hoped that Taki could have his older brother figure back, someone to look up to and lean on.

And, selfishly, Euijoo hoped for his own sake too.

Yudai had been his mentor, his teacher, his friend. He had shown Euijoo how to save lives in a world that was constantly trying to take them. Even now, as Euijoo treated others and bartered for supplies, he could feel Yudai’s influence in his every action.

He wanted to thank him for that.

As Euijoo looked around the camp, watching his friends work together to prepare for winter, he allowed himself a small smile.

They were stronger than they realized, stronger than they gave themselves credit for.

And as long as they kept moving forward, there was always hope.

Hope that the road north would lead them to something better.

Hope that they might find Yudai again.

Hope that, even in a broken world, they could still rebuild.

*

It had been over a month since Yudai had run away from Fuma, and every step he took since then had been weighted with guilt.

He knew Fuma hadn’t meant for what happened during his rut to happen. The older alpha had lost control, yes, but it wasn’t malicious. Still, the knowledge that Fuma now knew Yudai’s secret made it impossible to stay. It wasn’t safe anymore.

Yudai missed the group, though. He missed their warmth, their camaraderie. He missed Taki’s bright energy most of all. The young alpha had wormed his way into Yudai’s heart, like the younger sibling he’d never had. He often wondered how Taki was doing now, whether the boy had recovered from his absence or if he was still struggling.

Yudai had managed to get his hands on enough of the herbs he needed to brew his suppressants, and with some effort, he’d made a fresh batch. The faint scent that had always clung to him for the passed few days—blueberry and vanilla ice cream—was once again masked. A part of him was relieved; without his scent, he could move through the world with a little less fear.

But the fear was never entirely gone.

Yudai’s focus now was on finding a place to shelter for the winter. The days were growing colder, and the nights were bitter. He needed something sturdy, something safe.

He was so lost in thought that he didn’t notice the soft crunch of footsteps behind him until a sharp pressure pressed against his back.

“Turn around. Slowly.”

The voice was cold, authoritative. Yudai’s blood ran cold.

And then the scent hit him—a scent he knew all too well. Clove and smoke, bitter and sharp. It was a scent that made his stomach churn and his skin crawl.

He turned slowly, his heart pounding in his chest.

When he faced them, his stomach dropped.

Standing in front of him was Nakamura, flanked by a group of men. Some of them were new, unfamiliar faces, but others were chillingly familiar, faces he hadn’t seen in six years but still haunted his nightmares.

His eyes flicked to the two omega women standing behind them. One was heavily pregnant, her body frail and trembling. The other, while not visibly pregnant, carried the faint scent of milky sweetness mixed with her own—another telltale sign of pregnancy.

Both looked hollow, broken. Their eyes were dull, their bodies thin, and their movements hesitant and fearful. Around their necks were thick leather collars, leashes attached to them like they were dogs.

Yudai’s stomach twisted painfully. He didn’t need to imagine what they had been through. He knew. He had been there himself once.

Nakamura’s eyes widened slightly when he recognized him, but the surprise quickly melted into a sadistic smirk.

“Well, well,” Nakamura said, stepping closer. “If it isn’t Yudai. I was so sure you’d ended up dead in some ditch by now. Guess I was wrong.”

Yudai kept his face neutral, refusing to show the panic bubbling beneath the surface.

“You know, I really missed you, and I felt really bad about how we left you behind. I hope we can put that behind us.” Nakamura said in a mock apology.

Nakamura stopped in front of him, his dark eyes gleaming with cruel amusement when Yudai stayed quiet. Without warning, he grabbed a fistful of Yudai’s hair and yanked his head back, exposing his neck.

Yudai’s breath hitched as Nakamura buried his nose in the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply.

But then Nakamura froze.

He pulled back, his expression twisting into one of anger. “What happened to your scent?” he demanded, his voice sharp. “Why can’t I smell you?”

Yudai didn’t answer. He kept his face carefully blank, though his heart was racing.

Nakamura narrowed his eyes, his mind clearly working. And then, as if something clicked, his lips curled into another smirk.

“You know,” he said, his tone almost amused, “I forgot how clever you are. You must’ve made some kind of drug to hide your scent.”

Before Yudai could react, Nakamura snatched the leather satchel from his shoulder and tossed it to one of the men behind him.

“Don’t throw it away. He is a doctor, we might need his medicines,” Nakamura ordered. “But don’t let him near it without my permission. Whatever he’s using is in there. Without it, his scent will come back.”

The panic in Yudai’s chest must have shown on his face, because Nakamura’s smirk only widened.

“Looks like I was right,” Nakamura said, his voice dripping with mockery.

He turned to the man holding the leashes of the pregnant omegas. “Let them go,” he said dismissively. “I’ve got a better toy to play with now.”

The heavily pregnant omega’s eyes widened in panic. She dropped to her knees, clutching the leash as if her life depended on it.

“Please!” she begged, her voice cracking. “Please don’t leave us. We can’t survive on our own. I’ll be good, I promise. I’ll do whatever you want.”

Her desperation made Yudai’s stomach churn, and he clenched his fists at his sides.

Nakamura turned to face her, his expression cold.

When she crawled closer and grabbed his hand, he didn’t hesitate. He punched her hard in the face, sending her sprawling to the ground.

Blood poured from her nose, and she let out a pained cry, clutching her face.

Yudai stepped forward instinctively, but one of Nakamura’s men shoved him back before he could do anything.

Nakamura reached for the collar around the bloodied omega’s neck and took it off. Then, turning back to Yudai, collar in hand with a sadistic smirk.

Yudai’s blood turned to ice.

“No,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

But Nakamura ignored him. He stepped closer, gripping Yudai’s jaw tightly to force him still, and snapped the collar around his neck.

“You’re gonna be my bitch now,” Nakamura said, his voice low and venomous. “The perfect plaything. No matter how many times we fuck you, you won’t get pregnant like those two useless bitches.”

His smile widened, wicked and triumphant.

Yudai’s stomach churned violently, bile rising in his throat.

He’d thought he’d escaped this nightmare six years ago. He’d thought he was stronger now, that he could stand up to Nakamura and his men. But as the collar locked into place around his neck, all that strength drained away.

He wasn’t a fighter anymore. He wasn’t the survivor who’d battled monsters.

He was just an omega, trapped and powerless, at Nakamura’s mercy.

Chapter Text

Winter had sunk its claws into the world, and for Yudai, it felt as though it had sunk them into his very soul. The biting cold of the season was nothing compared to the freezing emptiness that had taken root inside him.

It had been six weeks since Nakamura and his men had found him, and in that time, they had stripped him of everything—his dignity, his strength, and, most painfully, his hope.

Yudai wasn’t allowed to walk anymore. Nakamura had made that clear early on.

“Bitches don’t walk on two legs,” Nakamura had sneered, his voice dripping with mockery. “They crawl.”

And so, Yudai crawled.

On hands and knees, through mud, snow, and grime, he moved like an animal, his knees bruised and raw, his hands cracked and bleeding from the cold. Nakamura and his men took sick pleasure in watching him, laughing and jeering every time he stumbled or hesitated.

“Move faster!” one of them barked, kicking him sharply in the ribs when he wasn’t quick enough.

Yudai bit back a cry of pain, knowing that any sound he made would only encourage them further.

But even silence wasn’t enough to protect him.

“You don’t speak anymore,” Nakamura had said one night, gripping Yudai’s jaw tightly, his nails digging into his skin. “Bitches don’t talk. They bark.”

Yudai had stared at him, horrified, but Nakamura’s expression was cold, unyielding.

The first time they made him bark, he tried to refuse. He clenched his jaw, his body trembling with silent defiance.

That defiance earned him a brutal punishment.

They dragged him outside into the snow, stripped him of his clothes, tied his arms and legs so he wouldn't run away, dumped a bucket of water on him, and left him there until his body was trembling uncontrollably, his skin turning blue from the cold.

When they finally let him back inside, Nakamura crouched in front of him, his face inches away from Yudai’s.

“Bark,” he said softly, his voice almost gentle.

Yudai’s body was shaking so violently that he could barely manage a whisper.

“Bark,” Nakamura repeated, his tone hardening.

Yudai opened his mouth, his throat tight with humiliation, and let out a soft, pitiful sound.

Nakamura laughed, and the others joined in, their cruel laughter echoing in the small cabin.

“Good girl,” Nakamura said, patting Yudai’s head like he was a dog.

From that moment on, Yudai didn’t speak. He barked when they told him to, the sound hollow and mechanical, like it didn’t belong to him.

The days blurred together in an endless cycle of humiliation and pain.

They fed him scraps, tossing them onto the floor and watching as he crawled to pick them up with his mouth because they’ve told him early on that bitches don’t use their hands when they eat. If he didn’t eat fast enough, they would kick the scraps away, forcing him to chase after them like a starving animal.

At night, they chained him to the wall, the collar around his neck digging into his skin. The chain was short, forcing him to curl up on the cold, hard floor like a dog.

They took turns tormenting him, torturing him, raping him, each finding new ways to degrade and humiliate him. His body was a canvas for their cruelty, and his mind was their playground.

“You’re nothing,” Nakamura whispered in his ear once as he waited for his knot to subside, his voice low and venomous. “You never were.”

And Yudai believed him.

The Yudai who had fought monsters, who had survived on his own for years, who had once dared to hope for a future—he was gone.

In his place was something hollow, something broken.

Yudai no longer flinched when they struck him. He no longer cried when they laughed at him. He no longer protested when they dragged him through the mud or forced him to crawl in the snow.

There was no point.

He existed now only at their whim, a prisoner in every sense of the word.

The cabin they stayed in was damp and frigid, the walls barely holding back the howling winds of winter. Yudai’s body was constantly cold, his thin clothes doing little to protect him from the chill. His hands and knees were raw from crawling, the skin cracked and bleeding.

His reflection in the broken mirror on the wall was unrecognizable.

Hollow eyes stared back at him, sunken and lifeless. His cheeks were gaunt, his skin pale and bruised. The collar around his neck was a stark reminder of his captivity, the leather worn and stained.

He didn’t look away from the reflection. He couldn’t.

This was who he was now.

There was no hope left.

Yudai no longer thought about the group he had left behind. He no longer thought about Taki’s laughter or Fuma’s quiet strength. He no longer thought about Euijoo’s cheerful optimism or the road to the north.

Those memories were too painful now, too far removed from his current reality.

All that existed was this—crawling on hands and knees, barking on command, enduring the endless cycle of humiliation and pain.

And somewhere deep inside him, the part of Yudai that had once dreamed of freedom, of safety, of a better life—it withered and died.

*

Winter had settled over the forest like a heavy blanket, muffling the world in a quiet, freezing stillness. The days were short, the nights long and bitter, but Fuma and his group pushed forward, their survival depending on their efforts.

Their small shelter was fortified as much as they could manage. Thick layers of snow piled on the roof, and the cold seeped through every crack, but they kept a steady fire burning and huddled close for warmth.

Fuma’s days were spent in labor—chopping firewood, hunting, and checking the traps they had set in the woods. The deer they had hunted earlier in the season had been a blessing, and the salted meat stored in their shelter was a constant reassurance. The mushrooms, wild vegetables, and herbs they had dried were carefully rationed, every bite a reminder of their hard work.

But the cold wasn’t the only thing that weighed heavily on Fuma.

He hadn’t stopped blaming himself for Yudai’s disappearance.

He replayed the events leading up to that night over and over in his mind, searching for a way he could have done better, been better. His rut, his loss of control—it haunted him.

The others had tried to console him, but their words did little to ease the guilt he carried. He knew they meant well, but nothing could change the fact that Yudai was gone, and it was his fault.

Taki had been quieter than usual, though he was beginning to come to terms with Yudai’s absence. He helped with the daily tasks, his movements slower but still steady. Harua and the others stayed close to him, offering quiet support when the younger alpha needed it.

Euijoo had taken on the role of the group’s medic, using the skills he had learned from Yudai to treat any minor injuries or illnesses. He had also been trading his skills for supplies, building relationships with the other groups and packs in the area.

Nicholas and Jo worked tirelessly to maintain their shelter, repairing weak spots and ensuring they had enough firewood to last through the coldest nights.

They were surviving. But for Fuma, survival wasn’t enough.

It was late afternoon when a knock came at their door.

Fuma was sitting by the fire, sharpening his knife, while the others busied themselves with their tasks. The sound startled them—they rarely had visitors in the dead of winter.

Nicholas was the first to move, his hand going to the knife at his belt as he approached the door cautiously.

“Who is it?” he called out.

“It’s Hiro,” a familiar voice replied.

Nicholas relaxed slightly, glancing back at Fuma. Hiro was from a pack they had traded with several times. Their camp was a few miles away, and they had always been on friendly terms.

Nicholas opened the door, letting Hiro step inside. The man was bundled in thick furs, his face red from the cold. He stomped the snow off his boots as he entered, his breath visible in the chilly air.

“Sorry to drop in unannounced,” Hiro said, his voice warm but urgent. “But I thought you’d want to hear this.”

Fuma stood, his brow furrowing. “What’s going on?”

Hiro glanced around, his expression serious. “Our hunters found two omegas in the woods a few days ago. Pregnant, both of them, and very malnourished. They were abandoned, left behind by a group of men.”

The group exchanged uneasy glances.

“Why are you telling us this?” Fuma asked cautiously.

Hiro hesitated, then continued. “The omegas told us that the men who abandoned them took someone else in their place. A scentless man. Tall, thin, dark hair. From the way they described him…”

Fuma’s heart began to pound.

“…it sounds like your doctor.”

The air in the shelter grew heavy.

“You’re sure?” Fuma asked, his voice low.

Hiro nodded. “The omegas said he was taken because they thought he was an omega. The men thought they could use him. Said he’d be easier to control.”

Fuma felt a cold dread settle in his chest.

“The omegas spoke about the men who took him,” Hiro added, his expression grim. “They’re not good people. From what the omegas said… they’re cruel. Dangerous. If it is your doctor, you need to save him. He won’t survive with them.”

The room fell silent, the weight of Hiro’s words sinking in.

Fuma clenched his fists, his jaw tightening.

He had failed Yudai once. He wouldn’t fail him again.

“We’ll go,” Fuma said firmly, his voice filled with determination. “We’ll find him.”

The others nodded in agreement, their faces set with resolve.

Hiro looked relieved. “I’ll help however I can. But be careful. These men… the omegas said they’re worse than any monster you’ve dealt with before.”

Fuma nodded, his mind already racing with plans.

For the first time in weeks, he felt a spark of purpose.

They would find Yudai. No matter what it took.

Chapter Text

The plan had been hastily put together. They didn’t have the luxury of time to strategize or wait. The moment Hiro told them what he’d heard, Fuma knew they had to act. They obviously couldn’t take Maki with them and Jo won’t leave Maki behind, and Yuma can’t go with them because of his fear of violence from his past traumas, so the three of them stayed behind to guard their shelter, ensuring it would be safe for them to return. The rest of the group—Fuma, Euijoo, Nicholas, Harua, and Taki—prepared to leave immediately.

The journey was grueling. The snow-covered ground slowed their progress, but they pushed on relentlessly, only stopping to rest when absolutely necessary. Every second felt like a wasted eternity.

The omegas’ description of the group that had taken Yudai haunted Fuma. Seven men: four alphas and three betas. Dangerous men. Cruel men. The thought of Yudai in their hands made Fuma’s blood boil.

By the afternoon of the second day, they arrived at their destination, an abandoned cluster of small, thatched houses that had once been a village. The structures were weathered and broken, the air heavy with silence.

Fuma instructed Harua to ready his bow and arrows and remain at a distance, hidden but prepared to act. The rest of them spread out, cautiously searching the houses.

Minutes passed before Fuma stopped abruptly, his body going rigid.

A scent hit him.

Blueberry and vanilla ice cream.

It was Yudai.

But the scent was stronger now, sharper, unmasked. The suppressants had been flushed out of his system. Fuma’s heart clenched in his chest.

His feet moved before he could think, sprinting toward the source of the scent.

The house wasn’t far. As Fuma approached, the sounds inside made his stomach turn: loud, obnoxious laughter, the disgusting, aroused scents of alphas and betas, and, faint beneath it all, pained whimpers.

Yudai’s scent was laced with bitterness, fear, and agony.

Fuma’s vision blurred with rage.

He didn’t hesitate. He kicked the door with all his strength, and it flew off its hinges, crashing to the floor.

The sight that greeted him made everything freeze for a moment.

There was Yudai, naked, on his hands and knees. His head was pressed to the floor beneath the boot of an alpha, who sneered down at him while the others laughed and jeered.

Fuma didn’t think.

One moment, he was standing by the door. The next, his machete swung through the air, and three heads rolled to the floor.

The alpha who had his boot on Yudai’s head stumbled back, startled, before attempting to defend himself. It didn’t matter. Fuma’s blade came down again, splitting him in half from head to groin.

The others scrambled to escape, but Euijoo and Nicholas were on them in moments, cutting them down with brutal efficiency.

Harua’s arrow shot through the air, striking the last man as he tried to run out the back.

It was over in minutes.

The house was silent now, except for the faint sound of Yudai’s labored breathing.

Fuma dropped his machete and took a step toward Yudai, his heart pounding.

“It’s okay,” he said softly, his voice trembling. “Yudai, it’s me. You’re safe now.”

But Yudai flinched violently, his body curling in on itself as he let out a pitiful whimper.

Fuma froze.

“Yudai…”

The omega didn’t respond, his eyes wide and glassy, his body trembling.

Taki stepped forward next, kneeling cautiously. “Yudai, it’s us. It’s me, Taki. You’re safe now.”

But Yudai’s reaction was the same—he cowered away, whimpering like a wounded animal.

Fuma’s chest ached. He didn’t know what to do.

Euijoo stepped forward then, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “Everyone out,” he said firmly.

Fuma turned to him, stunned. “What? No, I can help—”

“Out.”

There was an edge to Euijoo’s voice that Fuma hadn’t heard before.

Fuma opened his mouth to argue again, but Euijoo growled—a low, commanding sound that stunned everyone into silence.

Fuma stared at him, shocked. He sometimes forgot that Euijoo was an alpha. He was always so gentle, so cheerful, that it was easy to mistake him for a beta. But now, there was no mistaking his authority.

“Your scents are filled with rage and aggression. It’s scaring him,” Euijoo explained, his voice softer now but still firm. “He’s in a vulnerable state. He doesn’t need to feel more fear.”

Fuma hesitated, but Euijoo’s words sank in. Slowly, reluctantly, he stepped back and left the house, the others following.

The house was eerily quiet now, the metallic scent of blood mingling with the bitter cold seeping through cracks in the walls. Fuma and the others had left reluctantly, their presence too overwhelming for the fragile state Yudai was in.

Euijoo remained behind, kneeling a cautious distance from where Yudai was still huddled on the floor. The omega was naked, trembling, and utterly still, his glassy eyes staring at nothing. Even the faintest movement from Euijoo could cause him to flinch.

Euijoo took a deep breath, steadying himself, his expression calm but deeply focused.

This wasn’t about strength or force—this was about trust.

Euijoo knew that alphas’ scents were naturally heavy with dominance, and in Yudai’s current state, even the gentlest alpha scent would feel suffocating. Suppressing one’s scent entirely was a skill most betas didn’t bother to learn because it came naturally to them. Alphas and omegas had more difficulty mastering such a skill, but thanks to Yuma, Euijoo had years of practice.

He closed his eyes and focused, drawing his scent inward, clamping down on every trace of it until there was nothing. No alpha musk, no warmth—just a neutral, calming absence.

Euijoo opened his eyes and spoke softly, his voice warm and soothing, like a lullaby.

“Yudai,” he said, his tone low and steady. “It’s me, Euijoo. I’m not going to hurt you. You’re safe now.”

Yudai didn’t respond. His body was stiff, his breathing shallow, his eyes unseeing.

Euijoo stayed still, giving Yudai time to process his presence. He didn’t move closer. Instead, he kept murmuring quiet reassurances, repeating simple, gentle phrases.

“You’re safe now.”

“I’m here to help you.”

“I won’t do anything without your permission.”

His voice was even, rhythmic, designed to break through the fog of fear clouding Yudai’s mind.

Minutes passed. Finally, Yudai gave the faintest of nods—a barely perceptible movement, but enough for Euijoo to act.

“I’m going to come closer now,” Euijoo said, keeping his voice soft. “Just a little. Is that okay?”

Another small nod.

Euijoo shifted forward slowly, his movements deliberate and measured, like approaching a wounded animal. He stopped a few feet away, close enough to offer comfort but far enough to give Yudai space.

“I’m going to put my jacket on you,” Euijoo said next. “It’s going to be warm. I’ll move very slowly.”

He removed his jacket, holding it open so Yudai could see it. Then, inch by inch, he draped it gently over Yudai’s shoulders, careful not to startle him.

As the fabric settled around Yudai, Euijoo watched his reaction closely. Yudai didn’t flinch—his body remained stiff, but the faintest flicker of relief crossed his face.

Now that he was looking closer, he could see how thin and gaunt Yudai had become, and anger was making his blood boil at the sight. Suddenly he wished that they didn’t kill those bastards so quickly, and instead tortured them for a while before doing so.

But he shook the thought away, right now Yudai needs his help, he should focus on that.

“I’m going to help you get dressed now,” Euijoo said softly. “I’ll start with your pants. Is that okay?”

Yudai didn’t respond, but he didn’t resist when Euijoo gently grabbed the discarded pants nearby.

“Here we go,” Euijoo murmured, narrating every step. “I’m just going to lift your foot. That’s it. Now the other one. Good. I’m pulling them up now. You’re doing great.”

His hands moved with the utmost care, guiding Yudai’s legs into the pants and pulling them up to his waist. He made sure not to touch more than necessary, keeping his movements light and non-intrusive.

Yudai remained motionless, his gaze unfocused, but he allowed Euijoo to help him.

Next came the shirt.

“I’m going to put your shirt on now,” Euijoo said. “I’ll help you lift your arms. Is that okay?”

Again, no response, but Euijoo continued with the same gentle patience, slipping the shirt over Yudai’s head and guiding his arms through the sleeves. Lastly came the shoes which he put on him gently.

Once Yudai was dressed, Euijoo crouched in front of him, keeping his movements slow and deliberate.

“You’re doing so well, Yudai,” he said gently. “I’m going to carry you now. Is that okay?”

There was no answer, but Yudai didn’t pull away when Euijoo carefully slid his arms under him.

“Here we go,” Euijoo murmured, lifting Yudai onto his back. He adjusted the omega’s weight carefully, making sure Yudai was secure and comfortable.

As they left the house, Euijoo continued speaking softly, his voice steady and calming.

“You’re safe now,” he repeated. “We’re going home. You don’t have to worry anymore.”

Yudai didn’t respond. He didn’t lean into Euijoo or cling to him like he might have in the past. Instead, he hung limply, his head resting against Euijoo’s shoulder, his body devoid of energy or will.

Euijoo’s heart ached, but he didn’t let it show. Yudai needed stability, not pity.

The rest of the group kept a safe distance, their scents muted but still present. Fuma glanced back frequently, his expression a mix of guilt and helplessness.

Euijoo ignored him. His focus was entirely on Yudai.

Every so often, he would murmur reassurances, letting the omega know exactly what was happening.

“The path is a little uneven here, but I’ve got you.”

“We’re almost there, Yudai.”

“You’re safe with me.”

As they trudged through the snow, Euijoo’s determination never wavered. He knew this was just the beginning. Yudai’s body could heal with time, but his mind…

Euijoo tightened his grip on the omega, his steps steady and sure.

It didn’t matter how long it took. He would make sure Yudai felt safe again, no matter what it required of him.

Chapter Text

The journey home was a somber one, the kind of silence that weighed heavily on the mind and body. Snow crunched beneath their boots, the cold biting through layers of clothing, but none of them felt it. The tension between them was palpable, unspoken but ever-present, a shared burden none dared to voice.

Euijoo carried Yudai on his back, his arms steady, his steps deliberate. The omega’s weight barely registered, not because he was light but because Euijoo’s focus was entirely on his fragile state. Yudai lay limp, his head resting against Euijoo’s shoulder, his body lifeless except for the faint rise and fall of his chest.

Euijoo murmured soft reassurances as they moved, his voice quiet, a low hum meant to soothe. “We’re almost there,” he said, though Yudai gave no sign he heard him. “You’re safe now. Just rest.”

Behind him, Fuma walked with his head bowed, his eyes flickering to Yudai at every opportunity. Guilt gnawed at him with every step. Yudai had always been so sharp, so composed, a man with an unshakable presence. Now, he was a hollow shell, a ghost of the person he used to be.

Fuma clenched his fists, the guilt pressing against his ribs like a weight he couldn’t shake. He couldn’t stop replaying that night in his mind—the moment Yudai had run, the moment he had failed to stop him. He could have done something, anything, but he hadn’t. And now Yudai was broken, and it was his fault.

The rest of the group moved with equal caution, their footsteps light, their gazes wary. None of them spoke, afraid that even the sound of their voices might disturb the fragile quiet that enveloped them.

They reached their shelter by late afternoon, the fortified structure standing resolute against the winter’s chill. Normally, the sight of their home brought relief, a sense of safety. Today, it felt hollow.

Euijoo didn’t hesitate, carrying Yudai straight inside. “I’ve got him,” he murmured to the others as they lingered near the entrance. “Stay back for now.”

The others obeyed, their expressions conflicted. They wanted to help, but they knew their presence might do more harm than good.

Inside, Euijoo moved with purpose. He lowered Yudai gently onto a makeshift bed—thick blankets and pillows arranged to create a small, comforting nest. Yudai didn’t resist, his body limp, his gaze unfocused.

“I’m going to take care of you now,” Euijoo said softly, kneeling beside Yudai. “Let me help you.”

The first thing Euijoo did was prepare a warm bath. He moved quickly but quietly, boiling water and mixing it with cooler water until the temperature was just right. He spoke to Yudai throughout, his tone calm and steady.

“I’m going to help you bathe now,” he said as he knelt beside the omega. “Is that okay?”

Yudai didn’t respond. His eyes were distant, staring at nothing. But he didn’t pull away when Euijoo gently began to undress him.

Euijoo worked carefully, his hands precise and non-intrusive. He avoided touching sensitive areas, focusing instead on removing the dirtied remnants of Yudai’s clothes. Once Yudai was undressed, Euijoo guided him into the tub, his movements slow and deliberate.

The water lapped gently against Yudai’s skin as Euijoo began to wash him. He used a soft cloth, his touch featherlight as he worked through the grime and blood that clung to Yudai’s body.

“You’re safe,” Euijoo murmured, his voice a steady rhythm. “I’m here. I’ll take care of you.”

He focused on Yudai’s hands and arms first, cleaning each finger with care. Then his back, his shoulders, his legs—each movement slow, deliberate, and precise. When he reached Yudai’s face, he hesitated for a moment, then cupped water in his hands and gently wiped away the dirt.

The omega didn’t react, his body pliant under Euijoo’s care.

When the bath was done, Euijoo lifted Yudai out of the tub, wrapping him in a thick towel. He dried him off with the same care, then applied ointments to the bruises and scrapes scattered across Yudai’s pale skin.

“You’re doing so well,” Euijoo said softly, though Yudai gave no sign he heard him.

Once Yudai was clean and dressed in soft, warm clothes, Euijoo guided him back to the makeshift bed. He arranged the blankets around him, tucking him in gently.

“I’ll bring you something to eat,” Euijoo said, his tone warm but steady.

When he returned with a bowl of soup, he hesitated for a moment, watching Yudai. The omega had curled into himself, his body small and fragile among the blankets.

Euijoo sat cross-legged beside the bed, holding the bowl in his hands. “I made this for you,” he said softly. “It’ll help you feel better.”

Yudai didn’t move. His eyes were fixed on the bowl, but he made no effort to reach for it.

“It’s okay,” Euijoo said gently. “I’ll help you.”

He dipped the spoon into the soup, blowing on it to cool it before bringing it to Yudai’s lips. The omega hesitated, his gaze flickering briefly to Euijoo’s face, then back to the spoon.

“Just a little,” Euijoo murmured. “You can do this.”

After a long moment, Yudai opened his mouth, allowing Euijoo to feed him.

The quiet was heavy but not uncomfortable, broken only by the soft clink of the spoon against the bowl and the faint sound of Yudai swallowing.

When Yudai had eaten half the bowl, he turned his head away, signaling that he couldn’t eat more. Euijoo didn’t push him.

“You did well,” he said softly, setting the bowl aside. He pulled the blanket up over Yudai’s shoulders, tucking it around him. “Rest now. I’ll be here.”

The next few days passed in much the same way. Yudai never moved from his nest, his body curled into itself like a shield. He flinched at the sound of footsteps, his breathing quickening whenever anyone approached.

The others respected his space, keeping their distance unless absolutely necessary. But their worry was evident in the way they lingered near the door, their expressions heavy with concern.

When they did visit, Yudai’s reaction was always the same—he would cower, his body trembling, soft whimpers escaping his lips.

Only Euijoo seemed to be able to approach him without triggering his fear. Sometimes, Yuma would step in as well, his ability to suppress his scent making him less overwhelming. But their interactions were awkward, Yuma not having the same bond with Yudai as the others did.

Through it all, Euijoo remained patient and steady. He tended to Yudai’s needs with quiet determination, feeding him, cleaning him, and sitting with him in silence when words felt too heavy.

Two weeks passed before Euijoo broached the subject of reacclimating Yudai to the group.

“You’ve been doing so well,” Euijoo said one evening, sitting beside Yudai’s bed. His voice was calm, reassuring. “But it’s important for you to start getting used to everyone’s scents again. We can take it slow, one step at a time. Does that sound okay?”

Yudai’s breathing quickened, his body tensing. His eyes darted around the room, his fear palpable.

“It’s okay to be scared,” Euijoo said gently. “We’ll go at your pace. No one will rush you.”

Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, Yudai gave a shaky nod.

They started with Maki’s shirt.

“He’s just a child,” Euijoo explained, holding the small, soft garment. “His scent is light and sweet. It’s safe.”

Yudai hesitated but eventually reached for the shirt with trembling hands, pulling it into his nest.

For two days, he kept the shirt close, tucking it among his blankets and pillows. Slowly, he began to relax, his breathing evening out as the scent became familiar.

Next came Harua’s scent, followed by Yuma’s. Euijoo introduced each one carefully, giving Yudai time to adjust before moving on to the next.

When it came time to introduce the alphas’ scents, Euijoo started with his own.

“You know me,” he said softly. “You’ve been around my scent this whole time. This is just to make it a little more official.”

Yudai accepted Euijoo’s shirt without hesitation, tucking it into his nest alongside the others.

Nicholas came next, then Taki, Jo, and finally Fuma.

Fuma’s shirt lingered in Euijoo’s hands for a moment before he offered it to Yudai. The omega hesitated, his fingers trembling as he reached for it.

“It’s okay,” Euijoo said, his voice steady. “Take your time.”

Eventually, Yudai added Fuma’s shirt to his nest, his movements slow but deliberate.

By the end of the process, Yudai’s nest was filled with the scents of everyone in the group. He didn’t know why, but the mixture of scents brought him a strange sense of comfort.

Pack.

The word drifted through his mind, unbidden and unfamiliar. He didn’t know where it had come from, but he didn’t dislike it.

He still couldn’t bring himself to move beyond his bed, but he had his pack’s scent to keep him safe. For now, that was enough.

Chapter Text

The month since Yudai’s rescue had been long and arduous for everyone in the group. Each day felt like a delicate balance between progress and fragility. Yudai’s condition had improved significantly, though the process had been slow and painstaking. For the first three weeks, he hadn’t spoken a word. His silence had been deafening, a reminder of how much he had endured.

Euijoo had been patient, sitting by his side each day, speaking softly even when Yudai didn’t respond. It was Euijoo’s presence, his calm and steady care, that seemed to coax Yudai back to life. Slowly, Yudai began to trust again, his eyes regaining a faint spark of awareness.

Now, a month later, Yudai had begun speaking again. His voice was soft, hesitant at first, but it grew steadier with time. He no longer flinched when someone entered his room, and he had even started accepting visits from the others.

*

Fuma sat in his usual spot near the fire, sharpening his machete out of habit rather than need. His thoughts kept drifting to Yudai, as they often did these days. He was glad—relieved, even—that Yudai was recovering. But a part of him was conflicted, and he didn’t fully understand why.

He should have been happy that Euijoo had been the one to help Yudai heal. And he was, in a way. But there was also a gnawing frustration, a quiet annoyance that it hadn’t been him.

He hadn’t gone to see Yudai once since they’d brought him home. At first, it had been out of fear—fear that his presence might trigger Yudai’s trauma. But now, as Yudai grew stronger, that fear had been joined by something else, something he couldn’t quite name.

Fuma sighed, setting his machete down. He needed to stop avoiding Yudai. He owed him an apology, at the very least.

*

The first time Taki visited Yudai, it was with visible hesitation. He stood outside Yudai’s door for several moments, clutching the hem of his shirt, before finally gathering the courage to knock.

“Come in,” Yudai’s voice called softly, and Taki opened the door, stepping inside.

Yudai was sitting upright in his nest, a faint smile on his face. His appearance was still frail, but there was a warmth in his eyes that hadn’t been there before.

Taki stood awkwardly near the door, his hands fidgeting at his sides. “How are you feeling?” he asked, his voice quiet, as though afraid to disturb the fragile peace.

“I’m... better,” Yudai said, his smile growing slightly. “You can come closer, Taki.”

Taki hesitated, his body tense with restraint. He wanted nothing more than to hug Yudai, to hold him close and tell him how much he’d missed him. But he knew he couldn’t overwhelm him, not now.

After a moment, Yudai gestured toward the nest. “You can come in, if you want.”

Taki’s eyes widened, surprise flickering across his face. “Are you sure?”

Yudai nodded. “I’ve missed you.”

Taki took a cautious step forward, then another, until he was kneeling at the edge of the nest. Slowly, he climbed in, careful not to disturb the carefully arranged blankets.

The moment he was close enough, Yudai wrapped his arms around him, pulling him into a gentle embrace. “I missed you so much,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

Taki froze for a second, his breath hitching. Then, shakily, his arms came up to return the embrace, clutching at Yudai’s shirt. He buried his face in Yudai’s chest, his body trembling as tears began to fall.

“I missed you too,” Taki choked out, his voice muffled. “I was so scared, Yudai. I thought—I thought I’d never see you again.”

Yudai held him tighter, his own eyes glistening. “I’m here now,” he said softly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

*

Fuma had spent the entire morning pacing, debating whether or not to approach Euijoo about visiting Yudai. When he finally did, it was with an awkwardness that felt foreign to him.

“I want to see him,” Fuma said, his voice low. “To... apologize.”

Euijoo studied him for a moment before nodding. “Yudai gave me permission. Just... take it slow, okay?”

Fuma nodded, his heart pounding as he made his way to Yudai’s door. He knocked softly, and when Yudai’s voice called for him to enter, he pushed the door open, stepping inside.

Yudai was sitting in his nest, his arms wrapped around his knees. He looked up as Fuma entered, his expression calm but curious.

Fuma hesitated, then sat down a few feet away from the nest, keeping his distance. He stared at the floor, his hands resting on his knees.

For several moments, neither of them spoke. The silence felt heavy, but Fuma didn’t know how to break it. Finally, he cleared his throat. “How... how are you feeling? Do you need anything?”

“I’m okay,” Yudai replied, his voice steady. “and I don’t need anything right now, but... thank you for asking.”

Fuma nodded, his gaze still fixed on the floor. Another silence stretched between them before Fuma finally spoke again, his voice awkward and hesitant.

“I’m sorry,” he said, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. “For what happened. For... losing control during my rut. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Yudai studied him for a moment, then shook his head. “I know you didn’t mean to,” he said. “Sometimes... biology wins. It wasn’t your fault.”

Fuma looked up at him then, his chest tightening. “Then why did you run?”

Yudai’s gaze dropped, his hands clutching at the blanket. “Because... I was scared when my secret was discovered. I thought... I thought you’d see me differently. That all of you would.”

Fuma’s heart ached at the words. “Yudai, you were safe with us. You didn’t need to run.”

“I know that now,” Yudai said softly. “But back then... I couldn’t trust easily. Not after everything that happened before. When people found out what I was, they treated me like I was worthless. Like I was less than human.”

He hesitated, his voice growing fainter. “Nakamura... I grew up with him as my neighbor. I thought he was my friend. I looked up to him like an older brother. And then, after the collapse, he... he showed me who he really was.”

Fuma clenched his fists, anger simmering beneath his guilt. “He’s gone now,” he said firmly. “He can’t hurt you anymore. And I swear, Yudai, I won’t let anything else hurt you either.”

Yudai looked up at him, his eyes softening. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

They talked for a while after that, their conversation drifting to lighter topics. For the first time in what felt like forever, Fuma felt a small weight lift from his chest.

When he finally excused himself, he told Yudai to rest, a faint smile on his face.

*

The knock came late in the afternoon, sharp and urgent. Fuma was the first to answer, opening the door to find Hiro standing there, his face pale and his breath visible in the cold air.

“We need the doctor,” Hiro said quickly. “One of the pregnant omegas has gone into labor. It’s not going well.”

Fuma frowned, hesitation flickering across his face. “Yudai is still recovering,” he began, but before he could finish, a voice interrupted him.

“I’ll go.”

Fuma turned to see Yudai standing in the doorway of his room, his leather satchel slung over his shoulder. For the first time since they’d brought him home, he had stepped out of his sanctuary.

“Yudai, are you sure?” Euijoo asked, concern etched into his features.

“Yes,” Yudai replied firmly. “But... Euijoo, I need you to come with me. I want to teach you how to deliver babies.”

Fuma and Euijoo exchanged worried glances, but the determination in Yudai’s voice left no room for argument.

Hiro’s face flickered with surprise as he caught a whiff of Yudai’s scent, but he didn’t comment on it. “We need to hurry,” he said.

The walk to Hiro’s camp was brisk, marked by urgency. Fuma insisted on coming along, staying close to Yudai’s side as they navigated the snowy terrain.

When they arrived, the omega in labor was already in distress, her breathing labored.

Yudai immediately took charge, his calm and confident demeanor surprising everyone. He gave clear instructions, guiding Euijoo through the process while reassuring the omega with gentle words.

For hours, they worked, the tension in the room palpable. Euijoo watched with awe as Yudai moved with practiced ease, his hands steady and his voice soothing.

Finally, the baby was born, its cries filling the air. Yudai carefully cleaned and wrapped the infant, handing it to the relieved mother with a small smile.

The omega looked much healthier than the last time Yudai had seen her, and for the first time in weeks, he felt a genuine sense of accomplishment.

After ensuring that both mother and baby were stable, the group began their journey home. Yudai walked with a quiet confidence, his satchel over his shoulder.

“You did amazing,” Euijoo said, his voice filled with admiration.

Yudai smiled faintly. “Thank you. It felt... good to help.”

When they reached the shelter, Yudai turned to Fuma. “I’ll check on them tomorrow,” he said.

Fuma nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

Yudai’s cheeks flushed, but he didn’t reply. For the first time in a long time, he felt like himself again.

Chapter Text

The changes in Yudai were subtle at first, so much so that they didn’t alarm anyone. He had been improving steadily over the past month, finding his voice again, accepting the presence of others, and even smiling occasionally. The group had been relieved, happy to see him acting more like himself. But soon, little oddities began to emerge—behaviors that, while not immediately concerning, were strange enough to warrant notice.

The first change was his appetite.

One morning, Yudai had surprised everyone by asking for seconds at breakfast. That in itself wasn’t unusual; after everything he’d been through, it was a good sign that he was eating more. But when he asked for thirds—and then fourths—Fuma and the others exchanged amused glances.

“Looks like Yudai’s finally eating like a proper member of this group,” Nicholas joked, nudging Yuma with his elbow.

Yuma giggled, his face lighting up. “It’s good! He’s been eating so little for so long.”

Fuma, sitting in his usual spot near the fire, allowed himself a small smile as he watched Yudai happily devour his food. Seeing the omega eat with such enthusiasm was a relief.

But Euijoo wasn’t smiling.

It wasn’t that he wasn’t happy to see Yudai eating well—he was. But as the one who had been responsible for feeding Yudai since the rescue, Euijoo knew this sudden surge in appetite was out of character. Just until a couple of days ago, Yudai had struggled to finish a single plate of food, and now he was eating enough to rival Fuma’s portions.

“Yudai,” Euijoo said carefully, keeping his tone casual, “are you feeling okay?”

Yudai paused, mid-bite, and gave Euijoo a curious look. “I feel fine. Why?”

Euijoo hesitated, then shook his head. “No reason. I’m glad you’re eating well.”

Yudai smiled at him, completely unaware of the concern lingering in Euijoo’s mind.

*

The second change was harder to dismiss. Yudai had become unusually fussy with the three youngest members of the group, Harua, Taki, and Maki.

It started innocently enough. He would check to make sure they were eating enough during meals or offer them extra blankets on colder nights. But as the days went on, his behavior became more intense.

Yudai was always near them, hovering like a mother hen, ensuring they were comfortable, warm, and cared for. He insisted they spend time in his nest, where he would cuddle with them and scent them thoroughly.

Taki and Maki didn’t seem to mind. In fact, they thrived under Yudai’s attention, their faces lighting up whenever he pulled them into a hug or fussed over their clothes.

“You smell nice,” Maki said one afternoon, grinning as Yudai tucked a blanket around him.

“Do I?” Yudai asked, his tone soft and playful.

“Yeah, like...you smell like ice cream like usual, but now also warm cookies, or something,” Taki chimed in, leaning into Yudai’s touch.

The two youngest practically glowed under Yudai’s care, but Harua was less enthusiastic.

“Yudai, I’m fine,” Harua said one morning as Yudai adjusted the scarf around his neck.

“I just want to make sure you’re warm enough,” Yudai replied gently.

Harua sighed, giving in with a reluctant shrug. “Okay, but you don’t have to hover so much.”

Despite his initial discomfort, Harua eventually decided to humor Yudai. “He’s still dealing with his trauma,” Euijoo had explained when Harua mentioned it later. “This might be his way of coping.”

“He just needs to feel useful,” Fuma had reasoned when Harua brought it up with him. “Let him take care of you—it’s probably helping him heal.”

Harua nodded, though he still couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to it.

*

The third change was the most noticeable of all.

Yudai had always been particular about scent, especially when it came to his nest. But lately, his obsession with scent had reached new heights.

Every morning, Yudai would dismantle his nest completely, scattering blankets and pillows across the floor. Then he would rebuild it from scratch, carefully arranging and rearranging the pieces until he was satisfied.

Or, more often, not satisfied.

One day, Euijoo and Taki walked in to find Yudai sitting in the middle of his dismantled nest, tears streaming down his face.

“It feels wrong,” Yudai sobbed, his voice trembling.

Euijoo and Taki immediately sat beside him, wrapping their arms around him in a comforting hug.

“It’s okay,” Euijoo murmured. “You’re okay, Yudai. We’ll figure it out.”

“Maybe you need some fresh scents,” Euijoo suggested gently. “We can bring you a new batch of clothes from the others. Would that help?”

Yudai sniffled, nodding. “Yes... I think that would help.”

The suggestion worked, at least for a while. Yudai happily incorporated the newly scented clothes into his nest, his mood lifting noticeably.

But Yudai’s obsession with scent wasn’t limited to his nest. He had also started wearing the group’s used clothes, cycling through their shirts, sweaters, and even scarves.

“It makes him feel safe,” Euijoo explained when Nicholas raised an eyebrow. “At least, I think it does.”

But even Euijoo wasn’t entirely sure.

*

There were other strange behaviors, too—small things that added to the growing puzzle. Yudai had started hoarding food in his room, tucking away pieces of bread, dried meat, and fruit as though preparing for a storm.

When Nicholas mentioned it, Yudai simply shrugged. “I just like having it nearby,” he said, his tone nonchalant.

He also became more sensitive to the group’s scents, often commenting on how strong or faint someone smelled. Once, he had even leaned toward Fuma during a conversation, sniffing softly before pulling back with a flustered expression.

Fuma had been too stunned to say anything, though the memory lingered in his mind for days.

*

It was a cold, quiet night when everything came to a head.

Fuma had gone to bed early, exhausted from a long day of hunting and repairs. The room was silent, save for the faint crackle of the fire in the hearth.

At first, his dreams were hazy, filled with disjointed images and sensations. But then, a scent began to invade his subconscious.

It was sweet—so sweet it made his head spin. It was familiar, too, but different. Stronger. More intoxicating.

Blueberry and vanilla ice cream.

Yudai.

Fuma stirred, his body reacting to the scent before his mind could catch up. It wrapped around him like a blanket, warm and comforting, but also... enticing.

The scent grew stronger, flooding his senses. His heart began to race, and a strange heat pooled in his chest.

Then, he felt it.

Something wet brushed against his neck, soft and warm. At first, it barely registered, blending into the haze of his dream. But as the sensation continued—a gentle pressure against his scent gland—it became impossible to ignore.

Lips. Tongue.

Fuma’s eyes snapped open.

The room was dimly lit by the glow of the fire, but he didn’t need light to know what was happening.

Yudai was half on top of him, his face buried in Fuma’s neck. His lips moved against Fuma’s scent gland, kissing, licking, and sucking with an almost desperate intensity.

Fuma froze, his body stiff as his mind struggled to process what was happening.

“Y-Yudai?” he stammered, his voice rough with sleep.

Yudai didn’t respond with words. Instead, he let out a soft, needy moan, his breath hot against Fuma’s skin.

“Alpha smells so good,” Yudai murmured, his voice slurred and thick with longing. “I need alpha...”

Fuma’s blood ran cold as the realization hit him like a freight train.

Yudai wasn’t himself.

He was in heat.

Chapter Text

Fuma sat up slowly, his movements deliberate and cautious, ensuring Yudai wouldn’t fall or get hurt. The omega’s weight shifted with him as he moved, but Yudai only clung harder, his arms wrapping tightly around Fuma’s neck. His quiet whimpers filled the room, and Fuma felt his shirt tighten where Yudai’s hands gripped it, his knuckles white with desperation.

“Yudai,” Fuma said softly, his voice trembling as he tried to keep calm. He gently placed his hands on Yudai’s shoulders, attempting to separate him.

But as soon as Fuma tried to pull away, Yudai keened in distress, his body shivering as he buried his face deeper into Fuma’s neck. “No... no, alpha,” Yudai murmured, his voice slurred and delirious. “Don’t go... need alpha...”

Fuma froze, his heart pounding in his chest. Panic began to set in. Yudai wasn’t responding to his voice, and the omega’s heat pheromones were flooding the room, thick and intoxicating. Fuma felt his own body begin to react, the primal instincts of his alpha nature stirring to life.

This wasn’t good.

The sweet, overwhelming scent pouring off Yudai was driving him to the edge. His heart raced, his muscles tensed, and his mind screamed at him to claim what was being freely offered. But somewhere beneath the haze of instincts, his rational mind held on.

No.

He couldn’t lose control.

Not now.

Not after everything Yudai had been through. If Fuma gave in to his instincts, it would undo all the progress Yudai had made. It would shatter the fragile trust they had rebuilt, and Fuma didn’t know if Yudai could survive that.

His breathing quickened as he fought to keep himself in check. Yudai’s lips brushed against his neck again, his soft, needy sounds sending sparks through Fuma’s body.

“Alpha smells so good...” Yudai murmured, his voice muffled against Fuma’s skin.

“Yudai...” Fuma’s voice cracked as he tried again to reach him. There was no response, just another soft, desperate whine.

Fuma’s panic grew. He couldn’t handle this alone. He needed help.

And there was only one person he trusted to help him right now.

“Euijoo!” Fuma’s voice was sharp, urgent, carrying through the quiet halls of the shelter.

The sound of footsteps echoed almost immediately. More than one person was coming. Fuma’s heart sank further. He didn’t want anyone else to see Yudai like this.

Moments later, Euijoo appeared in the doorway, followed closely by Nicholas, Taki, Harua, and Yuma.

Euijoo didn’t need to ask what was happening. The scent of omega in heat hit him before he even reached the room. His eyes widened briefly in realization before his expression shifted into something calm and focused.

“We should have seen this coming,” Euijoo muttered, his voice low. He glanced at Nicholas, who nodded grimly.

“Off his suppressants for too long,” Nicholas added. “It was bound to happen eventually.”

Euijoo and Nicholas were mated, their scents bound to one another. Because of this, Yudai’s heat pheromones didn’t affect them as strongly. But the same couldn’t be said for the others.

Taki, standing near the back of the group, looked terrified. His hands trembled at his sides, and his eyes darted nervously to Yudai, then back to the door.

“Yudai...” Taki whispered, his voice cracking. His mind still saw Yudai as his older brother figure, but his alpha instincts were reacting to the omega’s heat in ways he couldn’t control.

It horrified him.

Before anyone could stop him, Taki turned and bolted from the room.

“Taki!” Harua called, running after him.

Euijoo sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he turned his attention back to the room. He didn’t blame Taki for running—Yudai’s pheromones were potent, and the scent was only getting stronger.

He glanced sideways as a low rumble filled the air. Jo.

The normally gentle and timid alpha was standing stiffly near the doorway, his fists clenched at his sides. His scent—pinewood and mint—flared with interest, and Euijoo tensed, readying himself for what Jo might do.

“Jo,” Euijoo said warningly, his tone sharp.

Jo blinked, shaking his head as if to clear it. “I... I’ll check on Maki,” he mumbled, backing out of the room quickly.

Euijoo let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

He turned to Yuma, who was lingering uncertainly near the doorway.

“You stay,” Euijoo said firmly.

Yuma hesitated, his brow furrowing. “Euijoo, his scent... it’s affecting me.”

“I know,” Euijoo replied. “But you’re a beta. You can help neutralize it. Please. I need you.”

Yuma looked reluctant, but he nodded. “I’ll try.”

Taking a deep breath, Yuma let his own scent—magnolia and black tea leaves—flare through the room. It wasn’t enough to completely block out Yudai’s pheromones, but it dulled the intensity, making the air easier to breathe.

With the immediate crisis under control, Euijoo turned his attention to Fuma and Yudai.

Yudai was still clinging tightly to Fuma, his face buried in the alpha’s neck. His whines had quieted, but his grip hadn’t loosened.

“Fuma,” Euijoo said, stepping closer. “We need to move Yudai back to his nest.”

Fuma nodded, though his body was tense. “I tried, but he won’t let go.”

Euijoo studied the two of them for a moment before speaking again. “Before we move him, you need to scent-claim me.”

Fuma’s head snapped up, his eyes wide. “What?”

“You might not have noticed it yet,” Euijoo explained, “but your scent is thick with possessiveness and protectiveness. Soon, your instincts will make you see anyone near Yudai as a threat. If you scent-claim me, I’ll be part of your pack, and you won’t see me as a rival.”

Fuma stared at him, his mind racing. He glanced at Nicholas, silently asking for permission.

Nicholas nodded. “We’ve talked about this before, Fuma. Euijoo and I have discussed the idea of becoming a pack, and wanted to bring it up with you and the others. After winter, we were going to ask you if you’d be willing to be our pack alpha. Euijoo and I wanted to bring it up when Yudai was feeling better.”

Fuma blinked, stunned. “You want me... to be your pack alpha?”

“We’ll discuss it later,” Euijoo said firmly. “Right now, focus.”

Fuma hesitated for a moment longer before nodding. “Fine.”

Nicholas excused himself to check on the others, leaving Euijoo and Yuma behind.

Euijoo stepped closer to Fuma, tilting his head to expose his neck. “Go ahead.”

Fuma took a deep breath, his hand resting on Euijoo’s shoulder as he leaned in. He rubbed his scent gland against Euijoo’s neck, their scents merging and exploding in the air.

Euijoo let out a soft sigh, chuckling quietly.

Fuma pulled back, frowning. “What’s so funny?”

Euijoo smiled, gesturing to Yudai. The omega had shifted slightly, his nose brushing against Euijoo’s neck as he began scenting him as well.

Fuma’s lips twitched into a small, fond smile.

“Now Yuma,” Euijoo said, turning to the beta.

Yuma looked hesitant but stepped forward, allowing Fuma to scent-claim him as well.

As their scents merged, Fuma felt the tension in his chest ease. Euijoo had been right—the possessiveness he felt toward Yudai no longer extended to the others.

With the scent-claiming finished, Euijoo tried to lift Yudai, but the omega only clung tighter to Fuma, whining softly.

“Omega,” Euijoo said sternly, letting a hint of dominance seep into his voice and his scent. “You need to let go. It’s for your own good.”

Yudai whined again, but after a moment, he loosened his grip enough for Fuma to carry him back to his nest.

Once Fuma laid him down, Yudai immediately grabbed onto his arms, trying to pull him into the nest.

Euijoo sighed, nodding at Fuma. “Stay with him. Yuma and I will stay here too, just in case.”

Fuma climbed into the nest, wrapping his arms around Yudai as the omega curled into him.

The rest of the night was a blur of tension and restraint.

Yudai’s heat grew worse, his body restless as he searched for relief. He begged Fuma again and again, his voice trembling as he whispered, “Knot... knot...”

Euijoo and Yuma flushed deeply at the words, their faces burning with embarrassment.

Fuma, however, held firm. He tightened his hold on Yudai, scenting him and murmuring soothing words whenever the omega’s cramps grew too painful.

Whenever Fuma’s resolve began to falter, Euijoo would call his name warningly, pulling him back from the edge.

By sunrise, Yudai finally fell asleep, his body exhausted.

Fuma, Euijoo, and Yuma all exhaled in relief, though they knew this was only the beginning.

Yudai’s heat was far from over.

Chapter Text

The first thing Yudai noticed when he woke up was how heavy his body felt. Every muscle ached, like he’d been hit by a truck. His limbs were sluggish, and there was a bone-deep weariness that made him want to sink further into the blankets and never move again. Even opening his eyes felt like a monumental task.

As his senses slowly returned, he became aware of the warmth at his back and the strong arm draped around his waist. A familiar scent surrounded him—rich, woodsy, and grounding. Fuma.

Yudai’s heart skipped a beat as confusion set in. Why was Fuma in his nest? He tried to think back to the night before, but his memories were a blur, a hazy fog of nothingness. The more he tried to recall, the more his head throbbed. He groaned softly, burying his face in the pillow.

That was when he noticed Euijoo kneeling beside the nest, his concerned face coming into view.

“How are you feeling?” Euijoo asked gently, his voice low and soothing. “Do you know what’s going on? Do you remember anything from last night?”

Yudai blinked at him, his mind still sluggish. “No... I don’t remember anything,” he admitted, his voice hoarse and quiet. “Why is Fuma...?” He trailed off, unable to finish the question.

Euijoo’s lips thinned into a line before he answered. “You went into heat last night, Yudai,” he said softly. “Around midnight, you went to Fuma for help.”

The words hit Yudai like a bucket of ice water. Heat. Of course. His odd behavior over the past week suddenly made sense—the increased appetite, his obsession with scent, the constant fussing over the youngest members of the group, and the endless rearranging of his nest. He wanted to slap himself. How had he not realized?

He shifted slightly in the nest, intending to sit up, but the movement made him pause. A sticky, wet feeling between his legs made him frown. His cheeks flushed as he realized what it was.

Euijoo noticed his reaction and leaned closer, his worry evident. “Are you OK?” he asked, his tone urgent.

“I'm fine,” Yudai quickly assured him, shaking his head. “It’s just... unpleasant.” He gestured vaguely downward, his cheeks burning. “The slick... my pants... it’s uncomfortable.”

Euijoo exhaled softly, his hand scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “Right. That makes sense,” he muttered, clearly unsure how to respond.

Yudai let out a shaky breath, leaning back into the nest. His body still felt heavy, but the warmth of Fuma’s arm around his waist was oddly comforting. It wasn’t until Euijoo placed a hand on his forehead to check his temperature that he realized how much he craved the contact.

Euijoo’s fingers slid into his hair, gently running through the strands when he noticed how Yudai was leaning into his touch. Yudai let out a soft sigh, his body relaxing for the first time since waking up.

Euijoo watched as Yudai’s breathing evened out, his tense posture softening. After a few moments, Euijoo pulled his hand back and cleared his throat. “I... I'm sorry,” he said hesitantly.

Yudai frowned, turning his head slightly to look at him. “For what?”

“I don’t know how to help you,” Euijoo admitted, his voice tinged with guilt. “I’ve never dealt with an omega’s heat before. My mom and older sister were both betas, and even if they weren’t, it’s not exactly something I could have talked to them about.”

Yudai shook his head, his expression softening. “You don’t need to apologize, Euijoo. I should have seen the signs. It’s been five years since my last heat, and with everything that’s happened recently, I just... forgot.”

The room fell silent for a moment, the only sound being Fuma’s steady breathing behind Yudai. As the omega shifted slightly, he noticed how strongly Fuma’s scent clung to him. It was comforting, but it also made his stomach twist with nerves.

“Euijoo,” Yudai began hesitantly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Did... did Fuma and I...” He trailed off, unable to finish the question, fear and worry etched into his features.

Euijoo blinked, confused at first, but as realization dawned, his eyes widened. “Oh—no, no, Yudai. Nothing happened,” he quickly assured him. “When Fuma woke up and realized what was going on, he immediately called for me. Yuma and I stayed with you both the whole time to make sure... well, to make sure Fuma didn’t lose control.”

Yudai’s eyes flicked to the corner of the room, where Yuma was curled up on a blanket, fast asleep. He let out a shaky sigh of relief. “Thank you,” he murmured, though guilt was already gnawing at him.

He hesitated before speaking again, his voice soft and tinged with regret. “It must have been torture for Fuma... having me in his arms like this and not being able to... to claim me. If the next wave got bad, tell him that he can help me if he wants.”

Euijoo’s expression darkened, his voice uncharacteristically serious as he responded. “No.”

Yudai blinked, startled by the sharpness in Euijoo’s tone. “Why?”

“Because even if you’re clear-headed right now, you’re still in between heat waves,” Euijoo explained firmly. “You can’t truly consent, Yudai. I don’t know if you genuinely want Fuma’s help or if it’s just the hormonal rage inside you talking. And it’s not just about you—it’s about Fuma, too.”

Yudai frowned, his confusion evident.

Euijoo sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Fuma already blames himself for what happened before. You didn’t see it, but he was a shadow of himself for weeks because of the guilt. If he accepted your consent now and slept with you, and then you regretted it later... he’d never forgive himself.”

Yudai’s mouth opened, then closed as he processed Euijoo’s words. Finally, he nodded, his expression apologetic. “You’re right. I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Euijoo said gently. “Once your heat is over, we can sit down and talk about how to plan for future heats. For now, if you need some privacy, we can arrange that.”

Before Yudai could respond, a knock sounded at the door.

“Come in,” Euijoo called softly.

The door opened to reveal Nicholas, carrying a tray with food and water. “Thought you guys might be hungry,” he said with a grin, though his gaze flicked briefly to Fuma and Yuma before settling on Yudai.

The sound of the knock had stirred both Fuma and Yuma from their sleep. Fuma blinked groggily, his arm tightening around Yudai briefly before he realized what he was doing and pulled away.

“Yudai,” Fuma said, his voice still rough from sleep. “Are you okay? Do you need anything?”

“I’m fine,” Yudai replied, his tone exasperated but fond. 

Fuma nodded. He then took the tray from Nicholas and began feeding Yudai. Yudai sighed but didn’t protest, too tired to argue.

Meanwhile, Yuma excused himself from the room, mumbling something about needing to relieve his bladder.

When Yuma returned half an hour later, his lips were red and slightly swollen, and Jo’s scent clung to him like a second skin. If anyone noticed, they didn’t comment on it.

*

The room settled into a peaceful silence after that, the tension easing as they sat together. For about an hour, everything seemed calm. Yudai ate in small bites, Fuma fussed over him, and Euijoo quietly observed, ready to step in if needed.

But then, slowly, the air in the room began to shift.

Yudai’s scent, which had been faint but sweet, began to intensify. It grew richer, heavier, filling the space like a tide rolling in. Fuma stiffened immediately, his sharp eyes darting to Yudai.

Euijoo noticed it too, his shoulders tensing as he exchanged a worried look with Fuma.

Yudai’s expression became dazed, his body shifting restlessly in the nest. His breathing quickened, and a faint flush crept up his cheeks.

The telltale signs were unmistakable.

Another wave of his heat was starting.

Fuma clenched his fists, his jaw tightening as he braced himself for the hours ahead. Euijoo sat up straighter, his mind already racing with contingency plans.

Yudai let out a soft whimper, his scent spiking sharply.

The room felt like it was holding its breath.

Chapter Text

Fuma and Euijoo weren’t experts on omegas or their heats, but even they knew that a heat wave wasn’t supposed to last eighteen hours. By the tenth hour, both alphas had started exchanging worried glances, silently questioning if something was wrong. By the fifteenth, their worry had turned into outright fear, though neither dared to voice it aloud.

Fuma sat on the edge of Yudai’s nest, watching as the omega writhed and whimpered, his body drenched in sweat, his skin flushed red with fever. His scent was thick and almost suffocating, clinging to the walls and making it hard to focus.

Yudai was in the throes of his heat, his body begging for the kind of relief that Fuma couldn’t give him. As the hours dragged on, Yudai’s pleas became more desperate, his voice cracking as he begged Fuma for help.

“Please,” Yudai whimpered, his fingers clutching at Fuma’s shirt. “I need you, Fuma... I can’t take it anymore.”

Fuma’s jaw clenched, his hands trembling as he fought to hold himself back. “I can’t, Yudai,” he murmured, his voice hoarse with restraint. “I’m here, but I can’t give you what you’re asking for.”

All Fuma could do was hold him, scent him, and rub slow, soothing circles on his belly whenever Yudai curled into himself, crying out in pain as cramps wracked his body. “It’s okay, Yudai,” Fuma whispered, his voice soft, though his heart was breaking. “You’ll get through this. I’m not going anywhere.”

By the twelfth hour, Yudai’s body temperature had climbed to dangerous levels. His skin was burning hot to the touch, and his breathing had grown shallow.

Euijoo had disappeared outside, returning minutes later with a bundle of snow wrapped in a clean cloth. He knelt beside the nest, pressing the makeshift ice pack against Yudai’s forehead.

“We need to keep his brain from frying,” Euijoo muttered, though his voice was calm.

Fuma nodded silently, though his hands were clenched into fists at his sides. He hated how helpless he felt.

After an hour, the fever finally began to break, thanks in part to the fever reducer Euijoo had managed to coax Yudai into swallowing earlier. The omega’s breathing evened out, and the flush on his skin started to fade.

But as the fever subsided, Yudai’s body grew restless again.

Yudai shifted in the nest, soft whimpers escaping his lips as his body sought the relief it so desperately needed. Before Fuma realized what was happening, Yudai had draped a leg over his thigh, his hips beginning to grind against him.

Fuma froze, his breath catching in his throat. He didn’t know what to do. A part of him screamed to stop Yudai, to pull away and keep his distance. But another part—his primal, instinct-driven side—urged him to let Yudai continue.

Maybe this was what Yudai’s body needed. Maybe an orgasm would help the wave break and finally allow him to rest.

So, Fuma stayed still, letting Yudai grind against his leg. He bit the inside of his cheek, trying to ignore the heat pooling in his own body as Yudai’s sweet scent grew even more intense.

Yuma’s presence in the room helped dull the worst of Yudai’s pheromones, the beta’s scent acting as a natural suppressant. Fuma was grateful for that, though it didn’t stop his instincts from clawing at the edges of his control.

Fuma was so lost in thought that he didn’t notice Yudai’s hands cupping his face until it was too late.

Soft lips pressed against his, and suddenly every coherent thought in Fuma’s head evaporated. Yudai was kissing him, his mouth warm and sweet, tasting like the remnants of blueberries and vanilla.

Fuma knew he shouldn’t indulge him. He knew he should push Yudai away gently, remind him that this wasn’t something they could do right now.

But Yudai’s lips were so soft, and his taste was intoxicating.

Before Fuma could stop himself, he was kissing Yudai back. His hands moved to the omega’s waist, steadying him as the kiss deepened. He could feel Yudai’s body melt against him, his scent spiking with pleasure and need.

In the back of his mind, Fuma noticed how his own scent was changing, becoming muskier in response to Yudai’s pheromones. The omega let out a soft moan, his body pliant in Fuma’s hands as he inhaled the scent of lust and interest radiating from the alpha.

Fuma barely registered the sound of Euijoo’s voice calling his name. It felt distant, like a blurred dream he couldn’t quite grasp.

Then came a tap on his shoulder, followed by a sharp yank on his hair that pulled him away from Yudai with a hiss of pain.

“What the—” Fuma growled, his head snapping to the side.

Euijoo’s stern face greeted him, his eyes hard with disapproval. “Fuma, stop,” Euijoo said, his voice firm.

A flash of irritation and anger surged through Fuma, his instincts roaring at being interrupted. He shoved Euijoo away, not hard enough to hurt him, but enough to knock him off balance and send him sprawling to the floor.

Euijoo’s eyes widened in shock, but he recovered quickly. A low growl rumbled from his chest as he sat up, his eyes locking with Fuma’s in a challenge.

The two alphas squared off, their instincts clashing, one driven by the need to protect his omega and giving him what he needs, the other determined to stop his friend from making a mistake they would both regret.

Their scents filled the room, thick with dominance and aggression, the tension palpable.

The standoff was broken by a small whimper from the corner of the room.

Both alphas turned to see Yuma crouched in the corner, trembling, his eyes wide with fear. The scent of withered flowers and bitter tea filled the room, a sharp contrast to the dominance radiating from Fuma and Euijoo.

Euijoo immediately clamped down on his scent, reigning in his aggression as he slowly approached Yuma. “Hey, hey,” he said softly, his voice soothing. “It’s okay. You’re safe. We’re not angry with you.”

Yuma didn’t respond at first, his body rigid and his breathing shallow. Euijoo kept his voice low and reassuring, inching closer until Yuma finally allowed him to wrap his arms around him. The beta pressed himself against Euijoo, seeking comfort and safety in his embrace.

Fuma watched the scene with a pang of guilt. Euijoo and Nicholas had told him before that Yuma was afraid of fights and violence, but he hadn’t realized just how deeply it affected him.

The scent mixture of two aggressive alphas and a terrified beta was too much for Yudai’s already heightened senses. His scent began to sour, a telltale sign of distress, as he whimpered softly and cowered further into his nest.

Fuma moved closer, his instinct to comfort Yudai kicking in, but the omega flinched away from him, his soft whimpers growing louder.

Fuma’s heart broke at the sight. He backed away, giving Yudai the space he needed to calm down on his own.

It took another two hours for the wave to break. Yudai’s whimpers gradually turned to soft murmurs, and the tension in his body eased bit by bit. Finally, his breathing slowed, and his eyes fluttered closed as sleep claimed him.

Fuma sat beside the nest, his head in his hands, exhaustion weighing heavily on him. Euijoo rested against the wall, cradling Yuma in his lap, his expression tired but relieved.

The room was quiet again, save for the soft sound of Yudai’s even breathing. The wave was over, but the memory of it lingered, heavy in the air.

Fuma glanced at Yudai’s sleeping form, his chest tightening. He had held firm, but the image of Yudai’s pleading eyes and trembling voice would haunt him for a long time.

*

The third wave of Yudai’s heat came the following day, though this time, there was a discernible difference. He was more lucid than he had been during the previous waves. His eyes were clearer, his voice steadier, and while his body still trembled with need, his mind seemed to have regained some control.

Yudai sat in his nest, his legs tucked beneath him, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of a blanket. The flush on his cheeks and the scent of sweetness still lingered, but there was a calmness in his demeanor that hadn’t been there before.

When Euijoo entered the room to check on him, Yudai looked up and greeted him softly.

“How are you feeling?” Euijoo asked, kneeling beside the nest. He studied Yudai’s face, searching for any signs of distress.

“I’m... better,” Yudai replied, though there was a hint of hesitation in his tone. “The edge is still there, but... I think I can manage.”

Euijoo tilted his head. “Manage?”

Yudai’s blush deepened, and he looked away, his hands gripping the blanket more tightly. “I think I just need some privacy... to take care of it myself.”

Euijoo blinked, slightly surprised by the request but ultimately relieved that Yudai was coherent enough to make such a decision. “If that’s what you want, I’ll make sure no one bothers you,” he said gently.

Yudai nodded, his shoulders relaxing a little. “Thank you.”

Euijoo left the room to find Yuma, who had been sitting just outside the door. “Yudai wants some privacy,” Euijoo explained. “Let’s give him some space.”

Yuma nodded without hesitation, his understanding nature making it easy for him to comply. But when Euijoo turned to Fuma, the alpha didn’t move.

Fuma stood rooted in place, his jaw tight and his hands clenched into fists at his sides. His sharp eyes flicked to the door of Yudai’s room, his entire body tense with conflict.

“Fuma...” Euijoo began cautiously.

Fuma shook his head, his voice low and strained. “I can’t just leave him alone. What if something happens? What if he needs me?”

Euijoo placed a hand on Fuma’s shoulder, his grip firm but not unkind. “He asked for privacy. You need to respect his wishes.”

Fuma’s muscles twitched under Euijoo’s hand, his instincts screaming at him to stay, but he could see the logic behind Euijoo’s words. Finally, with great difficulty, he nodded and stepped back.

“Fine,” Fuma muttered, though his voice was thick with reluctance. “But I’m staying outside his door. If he needs anything—anything—I’m going to be there.”

Euijoo sighed but didn’t argue. “That’s fine. Just... don’t go in unless he calls for you.”

Fuma gave a tight nod, his gaze fixed on the door as Yuma and Euijoo walked away.

Inside his room, Yudai let out a shaky breath as he listened to the sound of footsteps retreating down the hall. He was grateful that Euijoo and Yuma had respected his wishes, though he could still sense Fuma lingering just outside the door.

Yudai shifted in his nest, his body already heating up again as the wave of his heat began to crest. He closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing as he tried to calm the restless ache building within him.

It wasn’t easy. His body screamed for an alpha’s touch, for the instinctual relief that came with being claimed. But Yudai was determined to handle this on his own. He needed to prove to himself that he could manage his heat without relying on anyone else.

His fingers curled into the blankets beneath him as he began to move, seeking the relief his body so desperately craved. His breaths grew heavier, the sweet scent of his pheromones filling the room as he worked through the wave.

It took time—longer than he would have liked—but eventually, the tension in his body began to ease. The crest of the wave passed, leaving him trembling but calmer.

Yudai lay back in his nest, his chest rising and falling with deep breaths. He felt exhausted, but there was also a sense of accomplishment. He had done it.

The fourth day of Yudai’s heat was quieter than the previous ones. His body was worn out from the intensity of the first three waves, and he spent most of the day sleeping.

Euijoo checked on him periodically, bringing him water and light meals to keep his strength up. Yuma hovered nearby as well, his calm presence helping to keep the atmosphere relaxed.

Fuma, as always, stayed close, though he kept his distance from the nest unless Yudai specifically asked for him. The alpha’s protective instincts were still in overdrive, but he was careful not to overstep.

By the fifth day, Yudai’s heat had dwindled to a faint hum in the background. His body was still recovering, but the worst of it was over. He slept deeply that day, his small frame curled into his nest as he finally let his body rest.

When Yudai woke up on the morning of the sixth day, the first thing he felt was relief. The oppressive weight of his heat was gone, leaving behind only a lingering exhaustion.

He stretched cautiously, his muscles still sore but no longer aching with need. For the first time in days, his mind felt clear, and his body felt like his own again.

Euijoo entered the room a few minutes later, carrying a tray of food and water. “How are you feeling?” he asked, his tone warm but cautious.

“Better,” Yudai replied, sitting up slowly. He accepted the tray with a grateful smile. “Tired, but better.”

Euijoo nodded, his shoulders relaxing. “Good. You’ve been through a lot these past few days. Take as much time as you need to recover. And, I've prepared a bath for you, so you can go bathe after eating while we clean the nest for you.”

Yudai thanked him and then glanced around the room, his gaze landing on Fuma, who was sitting in a chair near the window. The alpha’s eyes were half-lidded with exhaustion, but he perked up the moment Yudai looked his way.

“Fuma,” Yudai said softly.

Fuma was at his side in an instant, his hand hovering near Yudai’s shoulder as though afraid to touch him without permission. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice low and filled with concern.

“I’m okay,” Yudai assured him. He reached out to squeeze Fuma’s hand, his smile small but genuine. “Thank you. For everything.”

Fuma’s shoulders sagged with relief, and he gave Yudai a small smile in return.

By the end of the day, the entire group felt the weight of the past week lift. Yudai’s heat had taken a toll on everyone, but there was a shared sense of relief that it was finally over.

Fuma and Euijoo were the most visibly exhausted, their roles as Yudai’s primary caretakers leaving them drained. Yuma, too, had been deeply involved, though his unreadable nature made it harder to tell just how much the experience had affected him.

As the evening stretched on, the group gathered in the main room to share a meal. Yudai sat between Taki and Maki, who both leaned into him, their faces glowing with happiness now that their omega was back to normal.

Fuma watched from across the room, his gaze soft as he observed Yudai’s interactions with the others. The alpha’s protective instincts still lingered, but for the first time in days, he allowed himself to relax.

Euijoo caught Fuma’s eye and gave him a small nod, a silent acknowledgement of the effort they had both put in.

Yudai glanced up at that moment, his eyes meeting Fuma’s. He smiled, a quiet but meaningful expression that spoke volumes.

They had all made it through together.

Chapter Text

If someone had told twelve-year-old Nicholas that he would not only present as an alpha in the future, but also spend his days hunting for food, fighting monsters, and going weeks without bathing or styling his hair, he would have laughed in their face. The mere suggestion would have sounded absurd. After all, twelve-year-old Nicholas had big dreams—dreams of runway shows, luxury fabrics, and endless compliments on his perfectly styled outfits.

He loved fashion, makeup, and the color pink. He adored looking soft and cute, basking in the attention of others as they doted on him. Being called “pretty” was the ultimate compliment; “handsome” didn’t have the same ring to it. Nicholas lived for aesthetics, for the image of perfection he so carefully curated.

Back then, he had firmly believed he would present as a beta. Maybe, if he’d been born a girl, he could have been an omega. He could picture himself surrounded by doting alphas, their protective instincts kicking in as he fluttered his lashes and charmed them effortlessly.

But an alpha? Nicholas had never considered it.

Nicholas was seventeen when he presented as an alpha, and it was a moment that left him utterly baffled. He’d been so certain he’d be a beta that the idea of being anything else hadn’t even crossed his mind. But when the telltale surge of alpha instincts hit him, there was no denying it.

To his surprise, his sister and friends weren’t shocked at all.

“Honestly, it makes sense,” his sister had said with a shrug.

Nicholas blinked at her. “How does it make sense? I’m... me!”

“You’re bold, Nicholas,” she explained. “You don’t follow anyone’s rules but your own. You never bow your head to society’s expectations. And the way you walk through the world—like you own it? That’s very alpha-like.”

Her words stayed with him. Maybe she was right. His interests weren’t stereotypically “alpha,” but his confidence and determination certainly fit the mold.

After graduating high school, Nicholas landed a two-month apprenticeship with a luxury streetwear brand in Tokyo, Japan. It was a dream come true. He packed his bags without hesitation, boarding a plane with stars in his eyes and excitement bubbling in his chest.

The apprenticeship was everything he had hoped for and more. The team was kind and patient, the work was challenging yet fulfilling, and his mentors were eager to teach him. Despite his broken Japanese, he managed to make friends with his coworkers, who often teased him about his bright, eccentric style.

For five weeks, Nicholas thrived. He spent his days handling fabrics, sketching designs, and learning everything he could. He felt like he was exactly where he was meant to be.

Then came the earthquake.

At first, the quake didn’t seem like a big deal. Earthquakes were common in Japan, and though people were shaken, they quickly resumed their daily routines. Nicholas did the same, brushing off the incident as just another part of life in Tokyo.

But later that day, as he walked home, chaos erupted.

He was on a crowded street when a strange creature appeared. It was unlike anything he’d ever seen—tall, grotesque, and otherworldly. At first, the crowd around him laughed, assuming it was some kind of prank or performance art.

Their laughter turned to screams when the creature lunged at a man and ripped his head clean off. Blood sprayed across the pavement as the monster began devouring its victim.

Nicholas ran.

He sprinted all the way to his apartment, his heart pounding and his hands trembling as he locked the door behind him. Grabbing his phone, he scrolled through social media, desperate for answers.

What he saw stunned him.

It wasn’t just Tokyo. The entire world was descending into chaos. Earthquakes, monsters, and destruction were spreading like wildfire. Governments were struggling to maintain control, and panic was everywhere.

Nicholas called his family, his voice shaking as he asked if they were okay. To his relief, they were safe—for now. They prayed for him, and he prayed for them.

When the call ended, Nicholas didn’t know it would be the last time he ever spoke to them.

A few hours later, there was a knock at his door. Nicholas opened it to find a man in military uniform, who told him to evacuate to a nearby shelter. The shelter, he explained, was specifically for non-Japanese civilians.

When Nicholas arrived, the shelter was packed with people. Families huddled together, friends clung to each other, and couples whispered reassurances. Nicholas, alone and feeling out of place, scanned the room for a spot to settle.

That’s when he saw him.

A young man around his own age sat by himself, his big, innocent eyes darting nervously around the room. His soft, round cheeks gave him an almost childlike appearance, and Nicholas felt an overwhelming urge to poke them.

Curious, he approached, asking in broken Japanese if he could sit beside him. The man didn’t seem to understand, so Nicholas gestured, and the man nodded.

As Nicholas sat down, he pulled out a box of chocolate bonbons from his backpack and offered some to the man. The man shook his head, declining politely, so Nicholas shrugged and popped one into his mouth.

After a moment of silence, Nicholas pointed to himself and said, “Nicholas.”

The man seemed to catch on and introduced himself. “Euijoo.”

Over the next four months, Nicholas and Euijoo became inseparable. Despite the language barrier, they found ways to communicate, teaching each other words and phrases while bonding over shared meals and quiet moments.

The internet and phone services eventually stopped working, leaving the shelter’s radio system as their only source of news. Day by day, the updates grew grimmer.

One morning, they woke up to the final announcement: every government in the world had collapsed. There would be no more rescues, no more supplies, no more order.

The shelter erupted in panic. People screamed, cried, and scrambled to decide their next moves. In the middle of the chaos, Euijoo grabbed Nicholas’s hand and tugged him toward the exit.

“We need to go,” Euijoo said, his voice urgent. “If we stay here, there won’t be enough resources.”

Nicholas followed, his mind racing.

That night, as they huddled in their own makeshift shelter, the weight of everything finally hit Nicholas. He realized he would never see his family again. The life he had known was gone, and there was no going back.

Tears streamed down his face, sobs tearing from his chest. He felt utterly lost.

Then, arms wrapped around him, pulling him close. The scent of citrus and sandalwood enveloped him, grounding him as Euijoo whispered soothing words in his ear.

Nicholas clung to him, his fingers clutching Euijoo’s shirt like a lifeline.

In the weeks that followed, Nicholas found himself relying on Euijoo more and more. The nights when he needed comfort increased, and Euijoo was always there, holding him, stroking his hair, reassuring him that they would survive.

One night, as they lay together, Nicholas lifted his head from Euijoo’s chest and looked at him. Slowly, he leaned in, giving Euijoo the chance to pull away.

Euijoo didn’t.

Their lips met in a soft, hesitant kiss, which quickly deepened as they clung to each other. That night, they crossed a line, but it didn’t feel wrong. It felt like the only thing keeping them sane in a world that had lost its mind.

They didn’t label their relationship. They didn’t need to. Whenever one of them needed comfort, the other was there to provide it.

But one night, as they cuddled after making love, Euijoo reached out and gently caressed Nicholas’s face. His touch was so tender, so full of affection, that it made Nicholas’s breath hitch.

“Can I call you my boyfriend?” Euijoo asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Can I call you my alpha?”

Nicholas’s eyes filled with tears, and he nodded, a smile breaking through his exhaustion. “Yes,” he said, his voice trembling. “Yes, you can.”

From that moment on, they were no longer just two survivors clinging to each other. They were partners, a team, and together, they began to carve out a life in the ruins of the old world.

And the rest, as they say, was history.

Chapter Text

Nicholas and Euijoo lay tangled together in bed, the faint light of morning filtering through the cracks in the wooden walls of their makeshift room. Nicholas, the bigger spoon, had his arms wrapped tightly around Euijoo’s waist, his face buried in the crook of Euijoo’s neck. He inhaled deeply, savoring the citrus and sandalwood scent he adored so much.

Every few moments, Nicholas would press lazy, open-mouthed kisses to Euijoo’s scent glands, leaving his own scent there in soft, possessive markings. Euijoo, content and relaxed, let him. It was one of those rare mornings neither felt rushed to get up—no urgent tasks, no disasters awaiting them. For now, they could be just Nicholas and Euijoo, two alphas curled together in the quiet of the morning.

The silence stretched comfortably between them until Nicholas finally spoke, his voice soft but tinged with a hint of sadness. “I miss you.”

Euijoo blinked, his brows furrowing slightly. “I didn’t go anywhere,” he replied, half-turning his head to glance back at Nicholas.

“No, I know,” Nicholas said with a sigh, squeezing Euijoo tighter. “But this winter... I’ve barely spent more than five minutes with you. I miss having time with you, just us.”

Euijoo felt a pang of guilt at Nicholas’s words. He hadn’t meant to make Nicholas feel lonely, but the truth was, he had been spread thin lately. Between Yudai’s disappearance, nursing him back to health, and tending to the group’s endless needs, Euijoo had barely had a moment to breathe, let alone spend quality time with his mate.

“I’m sorry,” Euijoo murmured, his voice heavy with sincerity. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like this. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

Nicholas shook his head, his nose brushing against Euijoo’s neck. “Don’t apologize. I get it. The group needs you, and you’ve been doing everything you can to help. It’s just... I wish I could be more useful, you know? Take some of the weight off your shoulders.”

Euijoo’s heart ached at the guilt in Nicholas’s voice. He reached down and squeezed the arm wrapped around his waist, his thumb brushing softly over Nicholas’s skin. “You’re more than useful, Nicholas,” he said firmly. “Not just to me, but to everyone. I wouldn’t have made it this far without you by my side.”

Nicholas didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he turned Euijoo’s face toward him and kissed him softly, his lips lingering as if trying to convey all the words he couldn’t bring himself to say.

When they pulled apart, they fell back into a comfortable silence. For a few moments, they simply lay there, enjoying the warmth of each other’s presence.

Then Nicholas broke the silence again, his voice hesitant. “I’ve been worried about you.”

Euijoo hummed thoughtfully, tilting his head. “Why?”

Nicholas shifted slightly, resting his chin on Euijoo’s shoulder. “You should’ve had your rut last month, but it didn’t come.”

Euijoo frowned, his mind turning over the observation. “It’s probably just the stress,” he admitted after a moment. “My body’s probably decided it’s not safe to deal with a rut on top of everything else.”

Nicholas nodded, though the worry in his eyes didn’t fade. “That makes sense. This winter’s been hard on everyone, but especially you. From Yudai’s running away and everything you did to keep the group together, to Yudai’s rescue and nursing him back to health... and then last week, Yudai’s heat. It’s no wonder your body’s out of balance.”

Euijoo let out a soft sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly. “It’s been a lot,” he admitted.

Nicholas tightened his hold on him, his heart aching at the sight of how much weight Euijoo had lost. His ribs were more pronounced, his frame thinner than it had been just a few months ago. The stress had clearly taken its toll, and guilt washed over Nicholas all over again.

His guilt must have shown in his scent because Euijoo patted his arm reassuringly. “I’ll be fine, Nicholas,” he said gently. “Don’t worry too much, okay?”

They were quiet for a moment before Nicholas suddenly shifted, turning Euijoo onto his back and positioning himself between Euijoo’s legs. He hovered over him, his face close to Euijoo’s, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

“Why don’t I help you relieve some of that stress then?” Nicholas teased, his voice low and playful.

Euijoo raised an eyebrow, though the corners of his lips twitched upward in amusement. “Oh? And how exactly do you plan on doing that?”

Nicholas leaned in closer, brushing his lips softly against Euijoo’s. “You just have to lay there, relax, and let me take care of you,” he murmured.

He kissed Euijoo then, the kiss deepening with each passing second. His hands slid up Euijoo’s sides, his touch firm but gentle. As the kiss grew more intense, Nicholas began trailing kisses down Euijoo’s jawline, then to his neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin.

Euijoo let out a soft sigh, his hands coming up to rest on Nicholas’s shoulders. The sound encouraged Nicholas, who moved lower, pressing kisses to Euijoo’s chest.

But just as he was about to go further, a knock on the door interrupted them.

Nicholas groaned loudly, dropping his head onto Euijoo’s chest in frustration. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered.

Euijoo chuckled, amused by Nicholas’s reaction. “Come in,” he called out.

The door opened, and Fuma peeked inside. His eyes widened, and he quickly averted his gaze when he realized the position they were in. “Oh, uh, sorry!” he stammered, retreating back into the hallway.

“It’s fine,” Euijoo said, adjusting his shirt as he sat up. “What do you need?”

“Breakfast is ready,” Fuma replied awkwardly, still not looking at them. “And I wanted to ask Nicholas if he could go hunting with me after.”

Nicholas sighed, clearly annoyed at the interruption, but he nodded. “Yeah, I’ll come with you,” he said, getting up and reaching for his clothes.

As they passed Fuma in the hallway on their way to join the others, Nicholas shot him a half-hearted glare. “Cockblock,” he muttered under his breath.

Fuma’s eyes widened, the tips of his ears turning red with embarrassment. Euijoo burst out laughing, his voice echoing down the hall.

When they reached the common area, the group was gathered around the fire, eating breakfast. Yudai sat with Maki in his lap, the little boy chattering happily as Yudai smiled softly. Taki was seated beside them, his arm resting casually around Harua, whose head was leaned against Taki’s shoulder.

On the other side of the fire, Jo and Yuma sat close together. Euijoo noted how Yuma was practically bathed in Jo’s scent, and he gave the beta a questioning look. Yuma seemed to understand the unspoken question because he quickly looked away, his face flushing deep red.

Euijoo made a mental note to talk to Yuma about it later when they were alone. This was the second time he’d noticed Jo’s scent clinging to Yuma since Yudai’s heat.

Breakfast was peaceful, the group sharing light jokes and quiet laughter. It was one of those rare, quiet mornings that had become increasingly uncommon lately.

Euijoo glanced around at the people gathered around the fire—his family, in every way that mattered—and silently promised himself to savor this moment, however fleeting it might be.

For now, at least, they had peace.

Chapter Text

The water in the bath had started to cool, and Euijoo let out a soft sigh. He leaned his head back against the edge of the tub, allowing himself a rare moment of peace. Nicholas had prepared the bath for him before leaving to go hunting with Fuma, and Euijoo couldn’t help but feel spoiled by the thoughtful gesture.

Winter was one of the few times Euijoo could find small joys like these in their otherwise harsh world. For one, the snow provided an abundance of water for cleaning, bathing, and drinking—luxuries that were far harder to come by in warmer months. The second reason was that monsters seemed to hate the cold as much as people did. Euijoo liked to joke that, just like bears, monsters must hibernate during winter. Of course, he wasn’t reckless enough to go looking for them to prove his theory.

As the water turned lukewarm, he reluctantly rose from the bath. Toweling himself dry and dressing in warm, comfortable clothes, he made his way back to his and Nicholas’s shared room.

The sight that greeted him made his chest warm. Their bed had been arranged into a makeshift nest, soft blankets and pillows layered with care. It was all Nicholas’s doing, no doubt. Alphas didn’t have strong nesting instincts like omegas and some betas, but Nicholas was an exception. Growing up with an omega mother and sister, Nicholas had grown to love nesting as a way to self-soothe when overwhelmed or having a bad day.

Smiling to himself, Euijoo climbed into the nest and laid down. The blankets smelled like Nicholas—strawberry and patchouli, sweet and warm—and Euijoo closed his eyes, not to sleep, but to bask in the rare quiet and comfort of the moment.

About fifteen minutes later, a soft knock at the door broke the silence. “Come in,” Euijoo called, sitting up slightly.

The door opened to reveal Yuma, followed closely by Harua. Both young men looked hesitant, their body language nervous as they stepped into the room and closed the door behind them.

“Can we talk to you about something?” Yuma asked, his voice quiet.

Euijoo smiled warmly and gestured to the nest. “Of course. Come here.”

Yuma and Harua hesitated for a moment before climbing into the nest on either side of Euijoo. They laid their heads on his chest, seeking comfort like children confiding in a trusted elder. Euijoo wrapped his arms around them both, holding them close as he began releasing calming pheromones.

He felt the tension in their bodies melt away, their breathing growing steadier as the soothing scent worked its magic. After a few moments of comfortable silence, Euijoo gently asked, “So, what’s this about?”

It was Yuma who spoke first. “... Jo and I are... involved.”

Euijoo raised an eyebrow, though he wasn’t surprised. He’d already suspected as much, given how often Jo’s scent clung to Yuma lately. “You and Jo are dating?” he asked.

Yuma immediately turned red, flustered. “Not exactly,” he admitted, hesitating before continuing. “I... I’ve liked Jo for a while, but I didn’t do anything about it until Yudai’s heat. Yudai's heat pheromones were overwhelming.”

Euijoo nodded, encouraging him to go on.

“After Yudai's first wave, I went to find Jo and asked if we could help each other,” Yuma said, his voice barely above a whisper. “He said yes. We didn’t go all the way... just blowjobs. and we've done that a couple more times since.”

Euijoo hummed thoughtfully, his mind turning over Yuma’s words. “Have you and Jo talked about what you expect from this? What kind of relationship you want?”

Yuma shook his head. “No, we haven’t.”

Euijoo gave him a pointed look. “You should. Honest communication is the key to any relationship. Whether you want to keep things casual or make it something serious, you both need to be on the same page to avoid misunderstandings and hurt feelings.”

Yuma nodded slowly, his expression nervous. “I’ll talk to him tonight,” he promised. Then, after a brief pause, he added, “I really like him, Euijoo. I want to date him... but what if he doesn’t feel the same way?”

Euijoo patted Yuma’s head reassuringly. “If that happens, Nicholas and I will be here for you. You’ll always have a shoulder to cry on. But honestly, I don’t think you need to worry too much about that.”

Yuma looked up at him. “Why not?”

“Because the way Jo scents you... it’s clear he’s claiming you,” Euijoo said with a small smile.

Yuma’s eyes widened further. “Are you sure?”

Euijoo chuckled softly. “I can’t read Jo’s mind, but I’m an alpha too, Yuma. I understand alpha instincts. No alpha scents someone like that unless they’re romantically interested in them.”

Yuma beamed, a brilliant smile spreading across his face as he buried it in Euijoo’s chest, squealing with happiness. Euijoo smiled fondly, rubbing soothing circles on Yuma’s back.

Euijoo’s attention shifted to the other weight on his chest. “Yuma wanted to talk about Jo,” he said, glancing down at Harua. “What about you? Why are you here?”

Harua hesitated, his face turning bright red. “I... I have a similar issue,” he stammered.

Euijoo raised an eyebrow, waiting patiently for him to continue.

Harua took a deep breath before speaking. “Taki and I helped each other during Yudai’s heat. We didn’t go all the way, just... used our hands. We’ve made out a couple of times too. But unlike Yuma and Jo, Taki and I talked about it, and we agreed to take things as they go.”

Euijoo hummed in understanding. “So what’s the issue?”

Harua’s blush deepened, and he stammered his response. “Taki’s rut is coming... in the middle of spring. And I... I want to offer to help him through it.”

Euijoo nodded thoughtfully, his expression turning serious. He felt a bit strange giving advice on such a personal matter, but he understood it was necessary. There was no formal sex education anymore, and it was the responsibility of adults like him to ensure the younger ones stayed safe.

“If you’re sure you want to offer, that’s fine,” he said carefully. “But I wouldn’t recommend your first time having sex to be during a rut.”

Harua frowned. “Why not?”

“Ruts aren’t romantic,” Euijoo explained. “They’re purely physical. Think of someone who’s starving—so hungry that they don’t care where the food comes from, as long as they get it. That’s what a rut is like. It’s all about the instinct to mate and breed.”

Harua nodded slowly, absorbing the information.

“I’d suggest waiting until you’re both ready to take that step outside of a rut,” Euijoo continued. “That way, you can take your time, learn about each other, and ensure you’re both comfortable. It’ll also help Taki’s instincts recognize you in that context when his rut does come.”

Harua nodded again, his expression thoughtful. “Okay. That makes sense.”

Euijoo smiled at both boys, his tone warm. “I’m proud of you two for coming to me about this. It’s important to talk about these things and make sure you’re doing what’s best for you and your partners.”

Yuma and Harua nodded, their faces still red with embarrassment.

“One more thing,” Euijoo added. “I’m going to talk to Jo and Taki too. I'm going to give the four of you a quick sex ed lesson so that you'll stay safe.”

Yuma and Harua groaned softly, covering their faces with their hands. Euijoo chuckled, patting their heads affectionately.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “It’ll be fine. And remember, my door is always open if you need advice.”

The two young men nodded, their embarrassment fading slightly as they relaxed against Euijoo’s chest. For a while, they simply lay there, enjoying the comfort and safety of his presence.

Euijoo closed his eyes, savoring the quiet moment. In a world as chaotic as theirs, these small moments of connection and guidance were what made it all worthwhile.

*

Fuma and Nicholas had been walking through the woods for a while now. The morning chill had given way to a crisp, cool afternoon, and they’d already managed to catch a few rabbits. Their shelter wasn’t running low on food, but Fuma always believed in being prepared. Winter might be coming to an end soon, but there was no telling what challenges spring could bring.

Nicholas walked a few paces ahead, his steps light and casual, but he could feel Fuma’s eyes on him every now and then. It was clear that Fuma wanted to say something, but he was hesitating. After the third or fourth time catching Fuma glancing at him, Nicholas sighed and stopped walking.

“Out with it,” Nicholas said, turning to face Fuma.

Fuma blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

Nicholas raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been staring at me for the past half hour. You clearly have something on your mind. So, out with it.”

Fuma sighed, scratching the back of his neck. “I’ve been thinking about the pack thing,” he admitted.

Nicholas nodded, signaling for him to continue.

“When did you and Euijoo start wanting to form a pack?” Fuma asked.

Nicholas thought for a moment before replying. “Probably since we found Yuma a few years ago,” he said. “But we didn’t do anything about it back then because Yuma was still too young to make that kind of decision for himself.”

He paused, his gaze softening. “Now, though... we’ve been with you and the others for a while. We’ve had time to see how everyone fits together, how we all care about each other. It feels like the right time to form a pack—if everyone’s on board with the idea, of course.”

Fuma nodded thoughtfully. He was silent for a moment before asking, “Why do you want me to be the pack alpha? Wouldn’t Euijoo be a better fit?”

At this, Nicholas stopped walking and turned to face Fuma, his expression suddenly serious. “Don’t even think about asking Euijoo to be the pack alpha,” he said firmly.

Fuma looked confused. “Why not? He’s a great leader. He’s—”

“He’s not strong enough to do it long-term,” Nicholas interrupted. “Euijoo is amazing at taking care of people, but he gets stressed easily. He takes on too much already, and being the pack alpha would only make that worse.”

Nicholas sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I know it’s selfish to ask you to take on that responsibility, but there’s no one in the group better suited for it than you, Fuma. You’re steady. You’re strong. And, most importantly, everyone trusts and respects you.”

Fuma fell silent, clearly deep in thought. After a few moments, he nodded.

They began walking again, the sound of their footsteps crunching against the snow filling the quiet.

After a few minutes, Fuma cleared his throat awkwardly. “Can I ask you something?”

Nicholas raised an eyebrow but nodded. “Sure.”

Fuma hesitated for a moment before speaking. “How did you and Euijoo get together?”

Nicholas blinked, surprised by the sudden question. “What brought this on?”

Fuma shrugged, looking a little embarrassed. “I’m just... curious.”

Nicholas studied him for a moment before answering. “Well, I came to Japan to apprentice at a fashion house. I wanted to be a fashion designer. Then the apocalypse hit, and I ended up in the same shelter as Euijoo. We became friends, and after the collapse, he kept looking after me, taking care of me. Little by little, we started developing feelings for each other. The rest is history.”

When he finished, Nicholas looked at Fuma with a curious expression. “Why do you want to know? Is this about Yudai?”

Fuma didn’t answer right away, but the tips of his ears turned red, giving him away.

Nicholas smiled softly. “You like him, don’t you?”

Fuma gave a small nod, still avoiding Nicholas’s gaze.

“You should ask him out,” Nicholas said, his tone encouraging.

Fuma shook his head. “I don’t have any experience with dating. I wouldn’t even know how to start. And... I don’t even know if Yudai likes me back.”

Nicholas hummed thoughtfully. “There’s a good chance he does,” he said after a moment. “He came to you during his heat, didn’t he?”

“That was just his heat-addled brain,” Fuma said quickly.

Nicholas shook his head. “That’s not how it works. Omegas don’t just approach any alpha during their heat like how most people believe. They only go to the ones they trust—and the ones they’re attracted to. The fact that Yudai came to you means there’s a chance he has romantic feelings for you.”

Fuma didn’t respond, but the thoughtful look on his face showed he was at least considering Nicholas’s words.

The two fell into silence again, but it didn’t last long. Nicholas suddenly stopped in his tracks, his eyes wide as he stared ahead.

Fuma followed his line of sight and saw what had caught Nicholas’s attention, a big, fat pig standing in the snow, snuffling around for food.

Before Fuma could react, Nicholas took off running toward the pig.

“Are you serious?” Fuma called after him.

The pig tried to run, but it wasn’t fast enough. Nicholas managed to tackle it, wrapping his arms around its middle as it squealed in protest.

Fuma ran after him, catching up just as Nicholas looked up at him with a triumphant grin.

“Euijoo’s been craving pork for months,” Nicholas said, his voice breathless but excited. “This is going to make his week—and earn me a few good mate points.”

Fuma chuckled, shaking his head as he helped Nicholas wrestle the pig into submission.

When they returned to the shelter, they laid their catch at the entrance to process it later. Nicholas wasted no time heading inside to find Euijoo.

As he reached their room, the door opened before he could hold the doorknob. Yuma, Jo, Harua, and Taki emerged, their faces red with embarrassment.

Nicholas gave them a questioning look, but Euijoo, standing in the doorway, just smiled. “Don’t worry about it,” he said.

Nicholas shrugged, deciding not to push the issue. Instead, he wrapped his arms around Euijoo and kissed him softly. “Come with me,” he said. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

Euijoo followed him, his excitement growing. When they reached the entrance and Euijoo saw the pig, his eyes widened in surprise.

A huge smile broke across his face, and he squealed in delight. Wrapping his arms around Nicholas, he peppered his face with kisses. “You’re the best mate ever!” he exclaimed. “I’ve been craving samgyeopsal for so long!”

Nicholas tried to act nonchalant, but the sweetness of his strawberry and patchouli scent gave him away. It was clear to everyone just how over the moon he was at Euijoo’s reaction.

Fuma chuckled softly, shaking his head as he watched the two of them. Even in the chaos of their world, small moments like this reminded him of why they fought so hard to survive.