Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The move had been going terribly.

It was only March and barely past dawn, but the weather was already surprisingly toasty, and Sakura Haruka was completely drenched, his face bright red from the exertion. Well, that’s the price you paid for being too broke to hire professional movers, isn't it? Gotta DIY the whole thing. The bright side, he figured, was that he didn't have much junk. The downside? That tiny bit of stuff was all ridiculously heavy - which, to be fair, was the whole point of his dumbbells and cast-iron plates, right? They had to be heavy.

Fresh out of a temporary teaching contract and into his first mortgaged apartment, Sakura was currently wedged between a stack of mismatched boxes and his slightly-too-big, slightly-too-beat-up weight bench. The small studio apartment he had bought wasn't in terrible shape - not great, either - but Sakura wasn't a demanding guy. Sure, the building was pretty run-down and definitely needed some maintenance work, but the apartment's price made any complaints completely moot. Plus, finally, he would have a real salary and a roof over his head that was actually his, so... really, everything was going perfectly fine. He cast a sideways glance at the blindingly white, glass-and-steel monstrosity of a condo complex that loomed twenty feet away, separated from his modest front porch only by a newly installed cedar fence.

He shrugged, struggled, grunted, and finally, with a desperate heave, he managed to pivot the weight bench. It swung out, caught the edge of a box marked "Gym Stuff," and sent it tumbling down the steps with a loud thud. Caught off guard, Sakura lost his balance, but he wasn’t going to fall and hurt himself; he was pretty agile and flexible to manage it. Even so, he had to drop the bench, which followed the box in its destiny and landed at the foot of the stairs with a catastrophic CRASH!

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," Sakura muttered, his face the color of a sun-wilted tomato, his hair sticking to his sweaty forehead.

The sound of the crash must have echoed across the wealthy silence of the neighborhood, because the enormous, black-lacquered front door of the garden apartment next door swung open, and a man stepped out.

Sakura blinked at him, looking like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

The man was as tall as Sakura, more or less, with an elegant cascade of quite absurd pink hair. He crossed his arms and looked directly at Sakura's mess. He was wearing something that looked like a very expensive, impeccably tailored black silk pajama set.

"My apologies, but are you planning on making that noise a recurring feature of our mornings?" The man's voice was a dry, smooth baritone that somehow managed to sound both polite and deeply critical.

Before Sakura could stammer out an apology, a second man stepped out of the door. He was taller, with shiny purple-red hair and a lean, powerful build. He was wearing an eye patch and a pair of long, golden tassel earrings, giving him an air of effortless mystery and ridiculous sophistication. He was sporting what appeared to be some sort of red silk sleepwear, complete with a traditional Chinese-style jacket-blouse, and moved with a lazy grace, clasping his hands behind his back, his lips curled into an impossibly smooth smile. He was… well, gorgeous and looked like a runway model who'd taken a wrong turn.

"Don't be a grouch, Kiryu-kun," he purred, his gaze locked on Sakura. "I know you have just woken up, but he's struggling. Oh dear," Suo sighed, his tone conveying mock sympathy. "Do you need a strong man to help you with that? Or… what about this? We were just about to have a cup of tea. Hm… Why don’t you join us? We heard about a new neighbor arriving today, and we would like to properly welcome you to the neighborhood. We have excellent Darjeeling."

Sakura's face immediately went from embarrassed red to full-blown crimson.

He's flirting. He's absolutely flirting with me. His boyfriend is right there! 

He opened his mouth, but only a squeak came out.

Then, a third man rushed past the other two. He was shorter, blond, his face full of cute freckles with bright, intelligent eyes and a look of genuine alarm. He was wearing soft-looking cotton pajamas with a Hello Kitty print... 

Seriously? Sakura frowned at the bizarre trio.

"Are you okay? You look like you're hurting yourself!" The blond man cried, already hopping toward Sakura's little front yard and kneeling to pick up the spilled contents of the box: a chaotic mix of jump ropes, sweatbands, resistance bands, grips, AB rollers, and a single, well-loved plush cat toy.

"Let me help you with this! I am Nirei by the way!"

“Ah… Th… Thank you. But you don’t have…”

Honestly, Sakura was struggling to understand the dynamic between the three men. At first, given how cozy they looked, he thought the pink-haired one and the eye-patched one could be a couple, but what about this blond one?

“Nirei is right, we need to help you with this mess first,” Suo said, joining the Hello Kitty fan to help him with Sakura’s stuff, while Sakura was still frozen, gaping at them.

“Suo-chan… Behave.” The pink-haired man’s voice sounded sharp.

"Relax, Kiryu. I'm just being welcoming," Suo laughed, and then, in a casual, almost intimate gesture, he reached out and lightly slapped Kiryu's arm.

Kiryu narrowed his eyes at him and said, "Yes, well, I know how you are, Suo-chan. Try not to frighten the newcomer on his first day, okay?"

The words hit Sakura's brain like a sledgehammer. They were possessive. 

Yes, it was confirmed. They were a couple, and the third, sweet one was their… what? The sweet, innocent one they kept around like a pet? He felt like he'd stumbled into the middle of a very complex, very adult sitcom plot, and he was the idiot audience member.

"I… I'm fine! Sirs! Ah… Thank you, but I'm completely fine!" Sakura finally managed, stumbling backward and nearly tripping over his own porch railing. He snatched the plush cat toy from Nirei’s helpful hand with embarrassing speed. "I have to go! Thank you for the Darjeeling invite, but I… I have to unpack my… my gym stuff! Bye!"

He didn't wait for a reply; he just squatted to grab the box, now full again thanks to his very helpful neighbors, and scrambled through his front door, slamming it shut. Once inside, he leaned against the cool wood as if a pack of sophisticated wolves were about to break it down.

Then it hit him... The bench! He'd left it outside. Hesitantly, Sakura cracked the door open and looked out. Yes, the bench was still there, at the bottom of the steps, and the three men were also still there, in their fancy nighttime attire, staring at the bench as if mesmerized.

Fuck...

Sakura flung the door open, ran down the steps. "Um, sorry, I forgot this!" He picked up the bench and bolted back into the house again, as if something was about to explode right outside his door.

Despite the hasty retreat, he couldn't help but overhear their comments. The first one of the three - the possibly Chinese one - started.

"Well, I never would have guessed the new neighbor would be so striking... and those eyes, right?"

"Ah, Suo-chan, we all know what truly captured your gaze was his B-side..." The pink-haired man retorted.

"Kiryu-chan!" It was the almost scandalized voice of the third man.

Sakura flushed crimson, leaning against his door, the bench clasped to his chest.

B-side? What the Hell?

Outside, the trio stood in silence for a moment, looking at the closed door.

“Well, it went well, right?” Suo chimed, amusedly.

"Did he just say 'gym stuff'?" Kiryu asked, one elegant eyebrow arched.

Suo simply chuckled, a low, melodic sound. "He's certainly energetic. I think I like him. I mean, you’re right, his assets are great, but he seems nice."

Nirei, still holding a stray sweatband, frowned in genuine concern. "I hope he wasn't too embarrassed. He did seem very nice! Suo-chan, Kiryu-chan… you two are truly terrible."

The three men exchanged a look before going back to their apartment. 

Suo’s smirk widened. The new neighbor was going to be interesting.

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Sakura had been stubbornly trying to unscrew a rusted plate in his bathroom for ten frustrating minutes, armed with only a butter knife and a growing sense of defeat. The small apartment might have been affordable, but it was clinging fiercely to its past. He absolutely needed a Phillips head screwdriver, and he absolutely did not own one.

He sank onto the floor, rubbing his face. Borrowing a tool seemed like the only sane option. And while he knew the small hardware shop was only a block away, that meant he had to interact with... people. People in a new town who didn’t know him and who weren’t accustomed to his bicolor hair or his mismatched eyes. Apparently, his new neighbors weren’t put off by his unusual appearance… well, they seemed interested in other features of his, especially that Suo-guy, he recalled, the blush staining his cheeks again.

The enigmatic man wearing an eyepatch and exuding confidence. Sakura had a weak spot for confident men, even though he wasn’t very good at dealing with them. It was all the fault of his tendency to blush at the slightest hint of a flirtation. In high school, Sakura had been an absolute train wreck, and only in college had he managed to crawl out of his shell and experiment a bit with his interest in men. But he certainly wasn't what anyone would call smooth or flirty.

And yet…

A tiny, traitorous voice whispered in his ear, you could borrow the screwdriver, you could go next door.

He remembered the trio's expensive silk pajamas and the sophisticated air that enveloped them, even when discussing his "B-side." He gasped just remembering the lewd tone in Suo’s voice.

Okay… They probably had a toolbox that looked like it belonged in an art gallery. So maybe it wouldn’t be useful. But Sakura was also terribly, morbidly curious. What exactly did a Chinese man, an overly friendly guy in Hello Kitty pajamas, and a fashion fanatic do all day in their glass palace?

Curiosity, mixed with the desperate need to fix his bathroom sink now, won.

He took a deep breath, straightened his PE teacher t-shirt - at least he looked respectable - and strode across the meager lawn, stopping short of hitting the intimidating black door. He lifted his hand and knocked, suddenly feeling like a small woodland creature petitioning a council of impossibly beautiful elves.

The door swung open a moment later, revealing Nirei. He was no longer in Hello Kitty pajamas but was wearing a bright blue athletic tank top and shorts. His usual sweet expression was slightly strained, and he looked tired, yet also wired and flustered, as if he’d just run a marathon.

"Oh! Hello, neighbor! What a nice surprise!" Nirei’s voice was warm, but he was breathing a little heavily.

“H-hi, Nirei-san. I’m so sorry to bother you. I was trying to fix… a thing in my bathroom, and I realized I don’t have a proper screwdriver. Do you… uh… do you think you guys might have one I could borrow?” Sakura stammered, pointing vaguely toward his own house.

Nirei’s eyes went wide, as did his smile, and his cheeks seemed to get even redder—either from excitement or exertion. "Oh, of course, we do! But... maybe wait here for a moment? We’re just finishing… Ah… I mean… We probably need to put some clothes on."

"What??" Sakura all but yelled, his brain encountering a major malfunction.

Before Nirei could elaborate, a loud grunt and the distinct sound of something being slammed against something else echoed from somewhere deep inside the ground-floor apartment.

"NIREI! Are you just going to stand there? We have not finished yet!" A voice boomed. It was Suo's voice, sharp and demanding, not his usual flirty purr.

Nirei winced. "Ah! That's my cue. One minute, Sakura-kun!" He started to rush back inside, but then stopped abruptly, turning back to Sakura with a conspiratorial look. "Just don't come past the kitchen, okay?"

The warning, combined with the booming voice and the mysterious slamming sound, activated all of Sakura’s worst-case scenario thoughts. Were they having a fancy, high-end therapy session that involved slamming things to vent off some steam? Or…  A BDSM session, maybe? Okay, Sakura’s brain was running wild already.

But it was too late. Driven by sheer panic that he might be interrupting something deeply private or possibly illegal, Sakura took a single, horrified step back - which was enough for Nirei to fully disappear inside, leaving the black door slightly ajar.

Now, by nature, Sakura was the soul of respect, particularly when he was explicitly asked to mind a boundary. But that half-open door... Ugh... He only needed to stretch his neck a tiny bit, maybe sneak a peek up to the kitchen... As long as he didn't go any further, right? As Nirei had requested.

He took a few hesitant steps into the apartment, and from his vantage point, Sakura couldn't help but peek. Just beyond a sleek, minimalist kitchen, there was a vast, brightly lit open space. And there they were.

Suo and Kiryu were both shirtless, glistening with sweat, standing in front of Nirei, intently listening to whatever he was trying to say, since he was frantically gesticulating and looked rather agitated. Sakura couldn’t help but stare at Suo’s sculpted and tight abdomen until Kiryu’s words hit him like a train.

“Nirei, calm down and breathe, okay? I only got neighbor and screwdriver… What happened?”

“Oh…” It came Suo’s voice, smooth like honey, “I wouldn’t mind screwing the new neighbor.”

Sakura squeaked again, while, in the adjacent room, Nirei and Kiryu proceeded to punch Suo, Nirei aiming for his arm and Kiryu for his stomach. Sakura felt himself combust, and he wheeled around, literally running away - screw the screwdriver - with Suo's amused laughter ringing in his ears.

"Suo-chan! He's still here!" Nirei’s voice was mortified.

But no, Sakura was already running through the short space between the two buildings, panting, his face red with embarrassment. What on earth were they doing? Was it possible that Suo meant... exactly that? Sakura shut the door behind him, breathless. He was not ready to participate in an orgy, was he?

No, and he probably never would be... no matter how striking and uninhibited his neighbors might be. Maybe it was better to steer clear of them... Although... The image of Suo’s abs, glistening with a film of sweat, his dark pink nipples, his smooth chest, the perfect line of his neck... Ah, stop it! Sakura crouched down against his door, burying his face in his hands. 

Until two sharp knocks on the door made Sakura emit another undignified sound, startled, as he jumped to his feet, as if ready to get into a fight.

"Sakura-san? It's Nirei! I brought you the screwdriver!"

Chapter Text

"Sakura-san? It's Nirei! I brought you the screwdriver!"

Sakura took a shaky breath and yanked the door open. Nirei stood there, still in his bright blue athletic gear, holding a small, pristine toolbox. His freckled face was drawn with worry, his glowing eyes wide with genuine concern.

"Oh! Sorry! I didn't mean to scare you," Nirei rushed out, holding the box like a peace offering. "Here is the screwdriver. It's a proper set, so you can find whatever head you need."

Sakura took the box, his hand brushing Nirei's. "Th-thank you, Nirei-san. I... I really appreciate it. And I'm sorry about running off…"

"No, no, we should apologize," Nirei insisted, cutting him off. He stepped back slightly, adjusting his stance. "Suo-chan is... a lot. And he says things. He doesn't mean anything by it! He was just talking... you know, about how all the loose ends need to be 'screwed together.' Anyway! He’s just a terrible tease, and Kiryu-chan encourages him," Nirei finished, shaking his head with the gentle disapproval of a devoted older brother. "They’re terrible, I know that... Look, I also came here for another reason."

"Oh? And what is it?"

"I just wanted to properly introduce myself without them being shirtless and making awful puns."

Sakura felt his face relax a fraction. Nirei’s genuine sweetness was utterly disarming, like a warm blanket after a cold shower. "Right. Well, I'm Sakura Haruka. I'm going to be a PE teacher," he said, holding the toolbox a little less tightly.

"It's great to meet you, Sakura-kun! I'm Nirei Akihiko, and I write mystery novels," Nirei beamed, clearly relieved to have the awkwardness momentarily defused. "And.. Kiryu Mitsuki is a fashion designer - a rather famous one, actually, which explains the fancy clothes - and Suo Hayato is a Chinese history post-graduate student. They're both completely brilliant and… completely insane. They're like two ends of a magnet; they attract and cause havoc wherever they go."

"They certainly seem... close," Sakura mumbled, still hung up on the "B-side" and the "screwing" comments. “I mean… You too.”

Nirei misunderstood the implication entirely and nodded enthusiastically. "Oh, yes! We've lived together for years. We do everything together - training, cooking, watching terrible TV. You know, we work from home, mostly, so we spend a looot of time together. We were so excited to finally have a new neighbor. You're the first person to move in next to the condo in years. Honestly, we thought this house was haunted or something… I mean… No offense..." 

“I know. None taken, don't worry. It would need some renovation and maintenance works… I hope I will be able to… You know, fix a few things by myself.”

“That’s very sensible, Sakura-san. And if you need other tools or something, don’t hesitate to ask, okay?”

“Sure. Thank you, Nirei-san.”

“You know, it's a relief to have a neighbor who is good with his hands… If you know what I mean…”  Nirei said a bit conspiratorially, winking at him.

“Uh?? My... hands?” Was that some sort of indecent insinuation, maybe? 

In any case, no, Sakura had no idea what Nirei meant and had no intention of finding out.

Nirei clapped his hands together suddenly. "You know what? We should have you over for dinner. Tomorrow night? It would be a proper welcome."

The offer sent a fresh wave of panic through Sakura. Dinner meant sitting across from Suo for two hours, watching Kiryu be effortlessly stylish, trying to decipher their relationship in real-time, and constantly worrying about his posture and his face turning neon red.

"Oh, I... I don't want to intrude," Sakura hedged, feeling his cheeks warm up again. "I need to finish here, you know, before school starts… I'm teaching PE at Furin High."

Nirei’s eyes went wide—not with alarm, but with excited recognition. "Furin High? No way! Sakura-kun, you know the principal? Umemiya Hajime? Well, he is a dear friend of ours! We know him very well! We're practically family! We even have weekly movie nights! And game nights as well… even if, well, they can get pretty wild, but you need to come. I’ll make sure to let you know when the next gathering takes place, okay? Oh, that is going to be amazing!"

Umemiya Hajime. 

Sakura was nearly overwhelmed by the sheer quantity of words Nirei spoke and his contagious enthusiasm, but that name... that name kept ringing in his ears. 

This must be a nightmare, right?

Sakura knew the name even too well. It was the name of the ridiculously laid-back but intensely charismatic head of the school. Sakura had successfully managed to avoid him during his hiring process altogether, conducting all his interviews remotely. The principal who hired him sounded like a wise, calm Zen master, completely removed from any form of chaos. The thought of this trio having "weekly movie nights" with his new boss was a horrifying distortion of the professional image Sakura had so carefully built in his mind. Wait, these sophisticated, polyamorous neighbors are friends with the principal? They're going to tell him what a blushing idiot I am!

"So you see! You have to come," Nirei said, sealing the deal with an irresistible smile. "We can talk about Umemiya-san and the school! Say seven o'clock tomorrow?"

Cornered, terrified, and unable to be rude to the single nicest man he had ever met, Sakura nodded weakly. "Seven o'clock. Okay. Thank you, Nirei-san."

"Fantastic! See you then, Sakura-san! We'll make sure Suo-chan wears one of his changshan!" Nirei practically skipped back across the lawn, the spring back in his step now that he had successfully secured a dinner guest.

Sakura closed the door, slid down the wood, and let out a long, drawn-out groan that was definitely not dignified. 

Okay, he could do that. Dinner. Tomorrow. With his next extravagant neighbors and the terrifying prospect of them mentioning his "B-side" to his new boss. He buried his face in his hands.

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An hour later, having successfully fixed the rusted plate, Sakura realized he hadn't actually eaten anything since a hasty granola bar that morning. The only thing that could fix this level of anxiety was a hefty dose of caffeine and anonymity.

He put on a simple button-down shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, grabbed his wallet, and walked out the door, making sure to keep his head down and walk quickly past the adjacent building.

The nearest café, Le Pâtissier, was a quiet, slightly rustic place tucked just outside the affluent street, offering a comforting contrast to his neighbors' sleek modernity. The air inside was thick with the scent of dark roast coffee and caramelized sugar, a true balm to his frayed nerves. He ordered a coffee and a gigantic, aggressively sweet pastry.

As he waited for his order, he took a moment to truly look at someone who wasn’t a fashion-forward neighbor. He saw a woman sitting at a table by the window. She had nice mid-long brown hair, was wearing comfortable jeans, a simple sweater, and combat boots, and was completely absorbed in reading a graphic novel while sipping a brightly colored smoothie. She looked completely ordinary, wonderfully un-sweaty, and utterly non-judgemental.

Sakura felt his shoulders relax for the first time all day. He had found his safe space.

Their eyes met briefly, and she offered him a small, kind smile before immediately returning to her book.

She looks nice, Sakura thought, taking a step toward the counter. Definitely not a polyamorous, stunning historian.

"Order for Sakura!" the barista called out.

He walked over to grab his mug and pastry, only to find the woman from the window already standing there, holding a takeout bag.

"Oh, hello," she said, her voice soft and pleasant. "I hope you don't mind. I'm Kotoha, and I couldn't help but notice you're new around here. Struggling with moving and in need of a break?"

Sakura blinked. He was suddenly talking to a second new acquaintance who wasn't currently half-naked. This was an improvement.

"Yes, I just moved into the little brown house down the street," he replied, pointing vaguely. "I'm Sakura. And yes, it’s a disaster."

"Well, welcome to Makochi, Sakura-san," Kotoha said warmly. "I run the café down the block, Pothos Café, but I stop here when I need a moment of peace. If you need any recommendations - or, you know, an easy lunch or a very good coffee -  you can come over." She paused, then tilted her head. "Wait a sec... the little brown house... You moved in next to them, didn't you?"

Sakura froze, his pastry forgotten. "Them?"

Kotoha gave a small, weary chuckle. "The guys in the big glass house. Suo and Kiryu and Nirei. They're... well, you know what I mean, if you have already met them. I mean… They're pretty harmless, mostly, but they are absolutely chaos. They're regulars at my café. They all went to Furin High together, years ago, when I already worked at Pothos as a waitress, and they would come every afternoon to hang out there.” She sighed a bit dramatically and a bit affectionately. “You see, I've been dealing with their antics forever. The only real habit you have to get used to is that they seem physically incapable of wearing shirts past 10 AM. It’s a genuine scientific mystery how they avoid freezing in winter. They seem to operate on an internal heat source powered by excessive training and Kiryu’s aggressive layering of extravagant outfits."

Sakura's eyes widened. "Furin High?"

So, not only were they friends with the legendary principal, but they were also former students at the very school where Sakura was going to be a teacher.

"Oh, yeah. Here in Makochi, everyone adores Furin students, current and former ones; they are… pampered by everyone in town," Kotoha confirmed with a slight eye roll that was entirely fond. "We’re all part of the same extended, dysfunctional family, I guess. You're either going to love them or be utterly traumatized. Anyway, gotta go now. Good luck with the move, Sakura-san."

She gave him another gentle smile and walked out, leaving Sakura standing by the counter, completely baffled. He finally picked up his pastry, biting into the sugar-laden softness, trying to decide if he was more terrified of the dinner or the looming density of Furin High alumni in his immediate vicinity. 

He was going to need the sugar. A massive amount of it.

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The following evening, Sakura stood stiffly on his own doorstep, clutching a bakery box containing Le Pâtissier's largest - and quite expensive - chocolate cake and a bottle of red wine he’d panic-bought at the corner store. Fortunately, his friend from college, Togame, ran a restaurant and revealed to Sakura the mysteries and pleasures of alcohol, from beer to wine, sake, and plum wine. Sakura is not a heavy drinker, but buying a good wine was not something that terrifies him. The gifts were meant to convey maturity, adulthood, and "I am definitely not a blushing idiot, I am a fully functional grown-up." Still, his perpetually flustered state probably ruined the effect. And he was already 10 minutes late, since he had tried to tame his mop of hair and give it some kind of style. 

He failed and made peace with it.

When he walked the short distance to the glass condo, the house was even more intimidating at night, glowing like a sleek, modern beacon of cool sophistication. He took a deep, shuddering breath and knocked.

Nirei opened the door immediately, beaming in a crisp, oversized blue sweater that looked extremely cozy. "Sakura-kun! You made it! Come in, come in, we're just about to eat." He took the wine and the cake box with the reverence of a sommelier and a pastry chef. "This is so thoughtful! You shouldn't have."

The interior was everything Sakura had expected: minimal, light-filled, and impeccably designed, a perfect backdrop for the three most aesthetically distracting men he’d ever met. Kiryu was seated at a large, pale wooden dining table, effortlessly wearing a loose silk shirt and making an elaborate origami napkin crane.

And then there was Suo.

Suo Hayato was standing by the open kitchen, arranging plates. He had, mercifully, put on a sheer, carmine red changshan - and yes, he had googled what that was - that really only served to emphasize the precise contours of his arms and chest. The lighting in the room hit him just right, making his golden earrings flash. He looked absolutely breathtaking.

Sakura felt his face instantly fire up, his chest tightening with a familiar, miserable combination of terror and attraction. 

Just look at the napkin crane. Look at the wall. Look anywhere else but him, for fuck’s sake!

Suo, of course, noticed instantly. He offered a lazy, half-smirk that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Well, look who decided to grace us with his presence. You finally manage to find the way here from literally just the other side of the fence, Haruka-kun. Good job."

"Stop it, Suo-chan!" Nirei chided gently, guiding Sakura to a seat. "Don't mind him, Sakura-kun. He’s just terrible at welcoming people."

"It's... fine," Sakura managed, praying his voice wasn't squeaking. “Sorry… I am a bit late.” He sat down stiffly.

Suo moved to take the seat directly across from him. "It’s okay… I was just looking forward to seeing you again, you know? And I can tell, the sentiment is mutual, isn’t it?”

Sakura’s jaw dropped open at the bold statement. Suo leaned forward slightly, his eye sparkling with genuine, harmless mischief. "Don't strain yourself, Haruka. The view isn't going anywhere."

Kiryu, without looking up from his napkin, added in a smooth, resonant baritone, "Well, Suo-chan, it was even too obvious that, more than anything, you were excited to see his B-side again. Now… Be a doll and pour him some water before he catches fire."

Sakura groaned, making the three men chuckle. After the initial embarrassment and the danger of a premature meltdown averted, the dinner was surprisingly pleasant. Nirei was a kind, excellent host and an engaging conversationalist. He talked about the painstaking research involved in writing a historical mystery, and well, that was quite interesting. Kiryu was wickedly entertaining, recounting a disastrous fashion show in Milan with dry wit. Suo, while still occasionally teasing Sakura about the perpetual blush on his face, never pushed too far. Instead, he roped Sakura into a fascinating discussion about specific techniques and styles of Chinese martial arts, demonstrating a level of knowledge that made Sakura wonder if it was practical as well as theoretical. He even complimented Sakura's taste in wine, making him blush... again.

Sakura began to relax, managing to contribute a few coherent sentences about his new job as a teacher. The conversation remained on impersonal topics; no one asked him about his past, where he came from, or why he moved to Makochi. No one commented on his particular appearance, except for the initial remark about his… backside, that is.

Okay, he thought, this is just a nice dinner with nice, confusing, criminally attractive friends.

Just as Nirei was pouring the coffee, the front door swung open with a resounding thwack that rattled the glass.

Two new figures filled the doorway, somehow managing to be even louder and more chaotic than the current occupants. The first was a tall man with a powerful build and a boisterous, cheerful grin, who looked like he’d just come from a rugby match. He was wearing a tight tank top, which left his impressive muscles on display, a pair of tight leggings that highlighted his... equipment, a headband holding back his red hair, and clogs on his feet. The second was even taller, but more slender,  utterly glowering, with long dark hair and clad in all black. He was effortlessly intimidating. Not that Sakura would let himself be intimidated, but the guy seemed strong, maybe even stronger than the buff one.

"Kiryu! You bastard, you started dinner without us!" the red-haired one bellowed, taking three quick strides into the house.

Kiryu, however, merely sighed with the long-suffering patience of a saint.

 "Tsugeura. You're late."

Tsugeura didn’t pause. He spotted Kiryu, let out an excited, possessive sound, and without any warning or preamble, he swept Kiryu up off his feet, lifted him high into the air, and swirled him around in a tight, affectionate circle, laughing exuberantly.

"Missed my beautiful baby!" Tsugeura declared, before setting Kiryu back down and giving him a loud, unapologetic kiss on the cheek, making him graciously giggle.

The dark-haired man instead simply grunted in acknowledgment of the room and headed straight for Nirei, who instantly wrapped an arm around him. He then leaned his head on Nirei’s shoulder with a proprietary sigh of contentment.

“Sugishita-kun, come on… Be polite and say hi to our new neighbor, Sakura-kun.” The man, though, snorted very uncooperatively and gave Sakura an unfriendly, aloof glare. 

Sakura, watching the entire dizzying, impossible interaction - the lift, the "baby," the immediate, territorial snuggle, to hostile stare - felt his entire world tilt. His mind, which had spent the last 24 hours trying to logically calculate the parameters of a stable polyamorous relationship involving three men, instantly short-circuited.

What. Is. Happening. Now there are five. Are they a five-some? Does everyone in Makochi just randomly kiss, hug, and call each other 'baby' while half-dressed? Is this a cult? Sakura looked down at his rapidly cooling coffee, completely unable to process the new, geometrically impossible social dynamics unfolding at the dining table.

For some reason, the simplest explanation - that his neighbors were just friends, and two of them were in a relationship with someone who didn't live there with them -  did not occur to him, and while he continued sporting his adorable frown, stubbornly looking at his coffee, he failed to notice the captivated look Suo had fixed on him. 

Or his predatory smirk, for that matter.

Chapter Text

The first day of school felt like the first day of a second, much harder new life for Sakura. He was still trying to logically categorize the bizarre behavior of his neighbors and their guests. Somehow, he had come to the conclusion that they were all... just friends who regularly lifted, casually touched, snuggled with, and kissed each other... well, made sense, right?

Maybe it was the custom of this town. After all, Sakura had been to college. Although he spent his freshman year in a state of perpetual flustering, in the end, he became almost accustomed to the libertine behavior of most students. It hadn’t been easy. He had spent his high school years isolated and marginalized, if not bullied, but okay, afterward he had... loosened up. Well, not exactly. But he understood that sex was the thing the world revolved around, even if not Sakura's world. And not by his will... Except he wasn't in college anymore; he was an adult now, and he expected to land in a world of responsible adults, not one of flirty, shirt-averse wildcards. In the end, he settled on the grim probability that he was surrounded by beautiful, confident people whose every interaction was a coded message he would never understand. And now, he had to face the man who was friends with them all.

He arrived at Furin High twenty minutes early. The school itself was surprisingly placid on the surface, a relatively anonymous, cement-grey building covered in graffiti but surrounded by a nice park, but Sakura wouldn't be fooled by appearances. Again. Who knew what pitfalls this place held? By now, he expected pretty much anything.

Sakura, dressed in his most professional (and least flattering) gray suit, managed to navigate the empty corridors to the Administration Office. Today was only the opening ceremony and no gym class, so Sakura hadn't been able to wear his beloved tracksuit and comfortable sneakers. His heart rate, which had just returned to normal, spiked again when he saw the nameplate on the main office door: Umemiya Hajime, Principal.

He knocked once, took a steadying breath, and entered.

The Principal’s office was not the sterile, wood-paneled room Sakura had mentally prepared for. It was bright, airy, and filled with sunlight, smelling faintly of citrus and fresh-cut grass.

Umemiya Hajime was sitting behind a large, rustic wooden desk, and he was nothing like Sakura’s mental image of a detached Zen master. He was impossibly kind-looking, with a warm, genuine smile that lit his blue eyes. He wore a simple white, utterly unprofessional T-shirt and a pair of black jeans.

"Sakura-kun! Welcome! Please, come in, come in," Umemiya said, rising and extending a hand. His handshake was firm and warm. "I've been looking forward to meeting you. Nirei-kun tells me you survived the initiation dinner."

Sakura froze mid-step, his mind racing. 

He knows. Nirei told him. 

Umemiya threw his head back, laughing, probably because the color on Sakura’s face was confirming that he was the blushing idiot his friends told him Sakura was.

"I… I, yes, Umemiya-san," Sakura stammered. "It was... lovely. Very... ehm… crowded."

What? Why did he say that?

Umemiya chuckled, sinking back into his chair. "That's my boys. They like to make sure everyone in town feels right at home. They can be a bit unruly when they put their minds to it, but they have good hearts. You fit right in, if it comes to that."

Sakura didn't know what "if it comes to that" meant, but the vague compliment only deepened his unease.

"Ah… I look forward to the next game night at their place, you’ll see, we will have so much fun," Umemiya continued, leaning forward with sudden, piercing intensity. "Anyway, Sakura-kun, I hired you because I heard you were dedicated and strong. This town... this school... it needs people who can handle a little intensity. I hope you are not the type to be scared off too easily. But if you survived the welcome committee, I am sure you’ll be fine." Umemiya giggled again, as if what he said was superfunny and not utterly unsettling.

The welcome committee? Sakura thought, his eyes wide. The poly-fivesome was tasked to welcome him? Was the dinner a sort of test?

Just as Umemiya was reaching for a pile of documents, the door swung open again, without a knock, and Sugishita - the tall, glowering man in all black from the dinner - marched in. He still looked unfriendly, but now he was wearing a sharp, fitted suit jacket over his black turtleneck, making him look less like an unwelcoming acquaintance and more like a hostile opponent.

Sugishita ignored Sakura completely, his dark eyes fixed solely on Umemiya.

“I need you to sign these reports, Hajime. And I told you, you need to wear a shirt to school. At least for the opening ceremony,” Sugishita clipped out, his voice gentler and less cold than it had been the night before, but still stern with a hint of exasperation. He placed the reports directly in front of Umemiya, acting with the air of someone used to running the Principal's life.

Umemiya sighed affectionately. "Come on, Haruka-kun has just arrived. You know he is new in town. Be nice. Sakura-kun, this is Sugishita, our Vice Principal. But I am sure you two have already met each other."

Sakura managed a weak nod. Vice Principal. Not just my neighbors’ friend. Or lover. Or whatever.

This giant works here. And he's telling the Principal how to dress.

The memory of the territorial cuddle he'd witnessed the night before suddenly became even more confusing.

Sugishita spared Sakura a single, cold look before turning back to Umemiya. "These need your attention, Hajime. He can wait."

Umemiya just smiled, completely unruffled. "You're doing great work, Sugishita. But Sakura-kun is already part of the family. Go make nice."

Sugishita merely grunted, a sound that conveyed deep professional disapproval, but he didn't argue. He picked up a folder from the desk and gave Sakura a stiff, impersonal nod.

"Follow me. I will take you to Tsubakino to get your documents. Don't waste his time," Sugishita ordered, already turning toward the door.

Sakura scrambled to follow the Vice Principal out of the Principal's office. Sugishita led him to the next room, the main administrative hub. The room was organized, but surprisingly busy for the first day of school.

Sugishita pointed to someone standing by a filing cabinet. It was a very tall woman, dressed in a soft, oversized grey blouse, a black skirt, and high-heeled boots. Her long, straight, dark hair was dyed red at the tips.  She turned around and her intense blue eyes locked with Sakura, as she offered a calm, welcoming smile.

“This is Takusu-san, the Head of Administrative Affairs.” Sugishita provided, shoving the folder into his hand, and walked back into Umemiya’s office without a word of goodbye.

"Please forgive the Vice Principal," The voice was deep and… baritone. Sakura’s eyes went wide. The Head of the Administrative Affairs was a man??!! 

"He's very protective of Ume-chan, and he's not... the most social of us, but I am sure he will warm up to you." Sakura gasped at the extended hand, blinking.

"Welcome to Furin High, Sakura-san. I’m Tasuku Tsubakino. I handle everything that makes the school run smoothly."

Sakura shook the hand, appreciating the firm, reassuring grip, but stuck on the Ume-chan. Were everyone this close to each other in this city? Maybe it was really some form of cult, or something.

"Thank you, Tasuku-san." He managed to say, but his appalled expression didn’t go unnoticed by Tsubakino, who let out a light laugh. 

"I can see you are a bit taken aback. Was the meeting with Ume? Or the dinner with the boys? Or maybe it is how I dress that puts you out?”

“Ah? No, no… Umemiya-san was very… uh… welcoming, and if with the boys you were referring to, are Nirei-san and the others, well, they were friendly as well. As for you… You look… lovely. I mean… Shit… Oh, sorry! Fuck…” 

Sakura seemed to have entered a vicious cycle of cursing and regretting, interrupted by Tsubakino's hand, adorned with aggressive red nail polish that settled, somehow both heavy and gentle, on his shoulder. “Hey, relax. It's alright. And… Thank you for the compliment. You know, I think you'll do well here. We're a tight-knit group, and most of us have known each other since we were kids, so sometimes our home life bleeds into the office. Especially for me, Sugi and Ume, since we live together." 

Sakura felt momentarily reassured by Tsubakino's simple explanation. This made sense, for real this time. Maybe he was worrying for nothing. But then, the meaning registered in his mind. The Principal, the Vice Principal, and the Head of the Administrative Affairs live together? But Sakura couldn't manage to keep up with that now.

Tsubakino tapped the folder, clearly wanting him to pay attention. "Here you can find your teaching schedule, your keys to your office, and your badge. I've also included information on the local benefits program. As you may have understood already, I'm trans, and I make sure all our paperwork reflects our inclusive policy. It's a very open environment."

Sakura blinked. Tsubakino's introduction, delivered with the same calm professionalism as delivering a lunch menu, was the final feather on the massive, chaotic pile of information that had accumulated over the past 48 hours.

Sakura's brain short-circuited completely. He just wanted to teach gym, but he was starting to feel like a fly caught in the middle of the chaotic absurdity of this city and this school.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

During the opening ceremony, Umemiya delivered a nonsensical, confusing speech, full of good intentions and sentiments—like protecting the city (in what sense?) and being supportive of one another, enjoying youth, the beauty of summer vacation, and other incomprehensible pleasantries—Sakura met the school counselor, Toma Hiragi, and the rest of the faculty. Mizuki, the history teacher; Momose, the Art teacher; Kaji, the Math teacher; and the Sasaki twins, Uryu and Seryu, who taught Literature and English, respectively. Everyone was very welcoming to Sakura, and luckily, more normal than Sakura expected (except for the fact that Mizuki insisted on calling him Sakura-shi and Kaji had a lollipop in his mouth that never seemed to run out). Sakura managed to extract himself from the school premises, the welcome packet clutched against his chest like a vital piece of survival equipment. 

He had his keys, his schedule, and a brain drowning in a sea of dread. How could he survive this madness? He needed caffeine, peace, and perhaps a lobotomy.

He decided against Le Pâtissier and walked two blocks further, finding Pothos, Kotoha’s actual café. It was a cozy, slightly cluttered space, filled with hanging plants and the kind of somewhat worn-down furniture that invited lingering. The air was rich with the smell of roasting vegetables and robust espresso.

Kotoha greeted him, but seemed willing to leave Sakura alone. He ordered a massive iced coffee and scanned the room, desperately seeking a corner table. His shoulders immediately sagged in dismay.

There, tucked into a cushioned booth by the window, entirely engrossed in a huge, leather-bound volume, sat Suo Hayato.

Today, Suo was dressed in a fancy pair of pants and a plain dark gray turtleneck, looking less like a hedonist and more like a genuinely handsome, clever academic. He looked peaceful, soft, completely engrossed in his book.

Sakura froze mid-café, contemplating a full retreat, but it was too late. Suo looked up, his expression shifting from intense concentration to mild recognition. He didn't smirk; he just offered a quiet, affable smile.

"Haruka-kun. Nice suit." His voice was low and calm, stripped of the dinner’s suggestive theatrics.

Cornered, Sakura mumbled, "Suo-san. Hello. This? It’s just because of the ceremony… not my thing, really.”

"Would you like to keep me company?" Suo instructed, nodding to the empty seat opposite him without waiting for an answer. "Unless you prefer to stand like a startled deer in the middle of the room. How was the Vice Principal's welcome?"

Sakura slid into the booth, placing his hefty folder on the table between them like a barricade. "Well, Sugishita-san seems... dedicated."

"Dedicated is one way to put it," Suo agreed, finally closing his book, which Sakura could now see was titled The Annals of the Former Han Dynasty, with a soft thud. "You met Umemiya-san as well, didn’t you?”

Sakura squinted his eyes at him, suspiciously. If he already knew he did, why ask him?

"Of course, I did. By the way… He mentioned a 'welcome committee'..." Sakura couldn't resist throwing the bait, his curiosity having the best of him.

Suo’s eye sparkled, the slight tease returning, but it was warmer, almost genuine. "Oh, right… the welcome committee. I can tell… They felt you brought a certain physical energy the staff was lacking. And, they were surely impressed by your dedication to your good shape."

He was clearly referring to the previous "B-side" comment, yet this time it landed softly, without the crushing embarrassment. Suo wasn't trying to humiliate him; he was… appreciating.

"I see," Sakura managed, fiddling with his coffee cup. He had never been good at accepting a compliment, and Suo was subtle enough to confuse him, but the blush spreading on his face wasn’t out of embarrassment, or not completely. He was… flattered. This calm, intelligent man discussing ancient history and martial arts was effortlessly charming when he wasn't being an ass.

"So, Haruka-kun," Suo continued, picking up his tea cup. "Ready to teach the next generation of Makochi’s finest?"

"I... I think so. I can’t wait to start with my classes," Sakura said, the most coherent sentence he'd uttered all day. He took a sip of his coffee.

Suo watched him, his gaze momentarily losing its teasing quality. 

"Good. You should focus on your students. But Haruka, you've already met the core group, and you should know we stick together. And we are loyal to each other in a way that an outsider may find confusing.” He gave a slow, genuine smile. 

“But believe me, you have nothing to worry about. And if you need anything… a piece of advice, a toolbox, a cup of coffee, or a sparring partner, you are more than welcome to knock on our door.”

“Ah, thank you… Suo-san. I appreciate that.”

“You are welcome. And, please, call me Hayato. Now you'll have to excuse me but I need to go. See you around, Haruka.”

He gathered his book and, with a quick nod, left the booth, leaving Sakura alone with his coffee. Sakura watched him go, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks again. He undid the first buttons of his shirt, feeling hot all of a sudden. This time it wasn't just panic. It was a mix of lingering anxiety and an unsettling realization. He was starting to find Suo Hayato genuinely fascinating, and that was scaring the shit out of him. The last thing he needed was to get involved in those weird dynamics the people of Makochi seemed to revel in.

Chapter Text

The following day, Sakura was ready to start teaching Physical Education to the Furin boys. At the ceremony, he noticed how the crowd populating the school building seemed decidedly... in shape. Not only was the teaching staff almost all muscular and exuding vibes of strength, but the students were also all definitely blessed with a good amount of muscle. That's why he couldn't wait to put them through their paces. The second-year students were scheduled for the first few hours, but when they arrived in the gym, Sakura noticed that no one was wearing the gym uniform; they had worn their uniform trousers and gakuran instead. Sakura frowned.

"Who is the class captain here?" he asked. A tall, broad-shouldered boy stepped forward. He had short green hair, an eyebrow piercing, and a grim look. Sakura rolled his eyes. 

Because, well, Sakura knew that Furin was a high school for delinquents, for people accustomed to throwing punches for the most trivial reasons, and he also knew that, being a very young teacher, he would have to sweat to earn the students' respect. But Sakura was strong. That much he was sure of. In a way, he had been a delinquent himself in high school, even if he used his brute strength, his feline agility, and his deadly punches only to defend himself or as a deterrent. Even so, he had been involved in more fights than class assignments, and he had agreed to come to Furin when he learned that other PE teachers had given up the position, too scared by the idea of facing hordes of undisciplined, aggressive students prone to breaking the rules. 

"It's me, Sakura-sensei, my name is Iwata. I've been the captain of this class since last year." 

"I see. So, Iwata-kun, could you tell me why you aren't wearing the gym uniform?"

 "Well, because we wear this uniform when we fight. That's what makes us recognizable, not the blue tracksuit you're wearing, Sakura-sensei." 

The student seemed almost amused by Sakura’s perplexed expression.

"Huh?" Sakura said, very intelligently, "fight? What d’ya mean fight?” 

Then it dawned on him, “ahhhh... I see. Look, if you think you're going to settle scores among yourselves during my hours, you're dead wrong." 

"Settle scores? No, Sakura-sensei, we just want to train..." 

"Train." 

Sakura repeated, flatly, still with a not-so-smart look. The student nodded and smirked at him.

"You know, we've heard rumors about you. It seems you're strong, sensei, although nobody knows how strong... What do you say to showing us what you can do, uh?"

Sakura's brain was for a moment tempted to give up and make his body exit the gym, go back to his minuscule apartment, repack his stuff, and jump on the first train far from this insane city full of insane people. Not even his students seem reasonable!

"Show you... Wait, I don't get it, you want me to fight against you students?" 

"Well, yeah. The other teachers also lend a hand sometimes... Sasaki-sensei, both of them, I mean, and Mizuki-sensei… do that all the time. But Hiragi-san and Tsubakino-san also take a few hours now and then to spar with us." 

Sakura was even more confused now, and it showed in his wide eyes and his speechlessness. What the hell, what was this school, an underground fighting club? Should he report it to the police?

"Don't tell me, Sakura-sensei, that you're afraid to fight against high school students." 

What? Well, no. Anything, but not this. He wouldn’t stay here and let a kid insult him. Sakura has always had a notable competitive streak. In college, he did nothing but fight against Togame - who was truly a beast born to fight - and he certainly wasn't the type to back down from an obvious challenge. 

"Ah! Of course I'm not afraid! So, who's first?" 

Obviously, Sakura had no intention of hurting these kids; he would go easy on them. But maybe he needed to teach them a lesson in humility. 

"Or maybe you want to fight more than one against me?" Sakura instinctively got into his typical stance, legs apart, low center of gravity, fists raised, and a smirk on his face. 

"Oh no, sensei... that wouldn't be fair. When we train, we fight one-to-one. So, I'll be first if that's okay with you." 

"Alright, Iwata-kun. Bring it." Sakura was already getting ready to pounce, but Iwata raised his hand to stop him.

"Wait!" 

Sakura jolted in surprise, but did stop in his tracks. 

"What is it now!?" 

"We have to recite the school motto." 

"Huh?" 

"Oh… You don't know it yet, sensei, but you have to learn it! You can't make us look bad when we go on patrol." 

"I… Hm… what?" 

"Don't worry, it's easy, you'll see even you can learn it easily." 

Sakura frowned. Was this bully perhaps insulting him? The captain turned to the line of students, who looked more like lined-up soldiers than unruly teenagers. 

"Hattori-kun!" 

"Yes, captain!" 

"The motto!" 

"Alright!" The other student, this Hattori-guy, took two steps forward, and silence descended upon the gym. He had very short, shaved, but exaggeratedly bleached hair that was almost white. When he opened his mouth, his words resonated loud and clear in the space of the gym.

Anyone past this point who causes pain, who brings destruction, who holds evil in their heart, will be purged by Bofurin without exception.

Sakura gaped at the unusual scene. Bofurin? 

A second later, all the students let out a loud cry, throwing their hands in the air. It sounded like a war cry, but their faces were smiling. Sakura was so taken aback that he lost concentration, dropping his fists slightly, his mouth open in an expression of evident confusion. Iwata took advantage of the moment Sakura dropped his guard to launch his attack. He plunged forward with remarkable speed, but Sakura was an experienced fighter and easily dodged the blow - was this little brat aiming for his face? - and with an agile pirouette, tried to deliver a kick to the student's thigh. It was one of those blows meant to make one lose balance, mildly painful but very effective, and not dangerous. However, the student proved more capable than expected and leaped up, avoiding Sakura's foot. When he landed, though, he had neither the time nor the space to deliver another blow. Sakura smirked. He jumped too, higher than Iwata had. 

A chorus of admiring "Oohs" rose from the surrounding students. Sakura placed his hands on Iwata's shoulders, flipping his whole body over him, securely landing behind him, grabbing him by the arms, and sending him flying as if he weighed nothing, exploiting the moment of his acrobatic move. Iwata landed with an undignified huff on his back. 

And that was the end of their duel. Sakura bowed slightly to look him in the face, nonchalantly and a little cockily, shoving his hands in the pockets of his tracksuit jacket. "You're good, Iwata-kun, but if we're going to train, you shouldn't launch a surprise attack or aim at the face. It isn’t fair, is it? In any case, would you explain to me what the hell this Bofurin is?" 

The student grinned at him. "Sensei... I'm glad you're so strong... and that you are the kind of man who wants to play fair. And to answer your question, Bofurin is that thing I believe you are worthy of being part of." 

The student extended his hand, an implicit request to help him up. Then he turned to the other students. 

"Class 2-1! You know the drill! Divide into groups and start sparring. Meanwhile, I'll have a word with Sakura-sensei. It seems the Principal was right. He's a good one." The students shouted again, even more enthusiastically and joyfully than before. Sakura, for his part, only wanted to understand more, and perhaps Iwata could give him the answers he needed, so when the student signaled him to follow him to his office, Sakura sighed. By now, he should have realized it was useless to oppose this damned city. So, he decided he had better go with the flow and followed Iwata out of the gym.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Sakura's office was small, sterile, and mercifully quiet. It was tucked into a corridor adjacent to the gym, and smelt faintly of old rubber and cleaning supplies. He slumped into his swivel chair behind the metal desk, gesturing for Iwata to take the single, uncomfortable guest chair.

Iwata didn't slump; he sat straight-backed, his grim expression unchanged, looking less like a high school student and more like a junior officer waiting for debriefing. The contrast between the intense, rhythmic sounds of training filtering in from the gym and the stillness of the office was jarring.

"Alright, Iwata-kun. Start talking. Bofurin," Sakura commanded, tapping his fingers on the desk. "And explain also why my PE class is apparently some sort of teenagers' fight club."

Iwata looked at him with what Sakura suspected was a rare, albeit small, flicker of respect. "It all started 8 years ago. Before Umemiya-san came to Furin High, Makochi was a mess," he began, his voice low and serious. "The high school was a magnet for the worst kind of students. Every day was a battle. Not just here at school, but for the entire town. It was too dangerous for normal people to even walk the streets at night."

Sakura found himself leaning forward, completely absorbed. The story finally made sense of the madness.

"Then Umemiya Hajime enrolled, together with his four closest friends. In a single year, he didn't just unify Furin High; he turned the school into Bofurin. A single, unified force that fights only to protect Makochi. Our motto isn't a poem, Sensei; it’s our law. We protect the town and its people."

"So, the whole school... is a self-defense force?" Sakura murmured, the term vigilante still sitting uncomfortably in his mind.

"We are the strength of Makochi," Iwata corrected simply. "When Umemiya-san left for college, his system remained. His legacy stayed alive. But when he and the four original Kings came back and took their places on the faculty, the protection became absolute."

The word 'Kings' hit Sakura with the force of an actual punch. The four Kings. 

“These Kings…” 

"Ah, well, you will meet them and the school representative soon. They are senior students, and I think you will enjoy sparring with them. They are pretty strong. We have a few former Kings still living here, while others are currently in college or have moved to other cities. But then they come to visit and Umemiya-san always throws amazing parties." 

"Uh... I see. What about the former Kings who are still here?" 

"Don't worry, sensei... You will meet them soon, if you haven't already."

Iwata’s words solidified the chaos into a terrifying, logical structure. The territorial cuddle, the "welcome committee," the sheer physical presence of the staff, and Umemiya's baffling sincerity - it was all rooted in their shared history as the town's protectors.

"So, the school staff... they're all part of this?" Sakura asked, struggling to keep the shock out of his voice.

"No, not everyone, we have some ordinary teachers as well. But many are former Bofurin members. That's why we have so many teachers who are skilled fighters, Sensei. We are constantly training, we patrol the city every day. But outsiders still try to test us. People hear about Makochi being 'safe' now, and they come here looking to disrupt what Umemiya-san built." Iwata paused, his eyes narrowing slightly. "We never let our guard down."

Sakura felt a thrum of excitement run down his spine and reach his hands. He wanted to fight to protect the city as well. It sounded… cool.

Also, he understood two important things instantly.

First, Sugishita's hostility now made perfect sense. As the Vice Principal and probably one of the former 'Kings,' he didn't trust a soft-looking new recruit, likely vetted only by the Principal. To Sugishita, Sakura was an unknown variable in their meticulously constructed structure.

Second, his neighbors, Nirei, Kiryu, and Suo, were not just flirty weirdos. They were a crucial part of this entire security system. Suo's casual "sparring partner" offer and his appreciation for Sakura’s "physical energy" now seemed like a deadly-serious assessment from a high-ranked commander to a potential new soldier.

Sakura sighed, rubbing his forehead. He just wanted to teach gym class, but this was an interesting turn of events.

"Okay. I get it. The PE hours are fight training. But what exactly do you expect from me, a new teacher who only wants to run laps and get you to play basketball?"

Iwata's grim look cracked into a serious, eager smile. "Two things, Sensei. One: we want you to spar with us, and teach us that amazing move you did out there." He gestured vaguely toward the gym. "We don't often see fighting that fast and controlled. And two: if you encounter an asshole in the city, you have to fight them and protect the people. Can you do that?"

Sakura looked at the ceiling, then back at the determined face of the high school captain. He was surrounded by people who were, quite literally, heroes. And he had just been invited to join their ranks. He thought of his life before college, marginalized, isolated, using his strength only to defend himself. 

Bofurin seemed something worth giving a try. And seemed sort of fun.

"Yes," Sakura said, the word coming out firm and clear, surprising even himself. "I can do that."

But there was one thing he had to take care of first. After school, he would go and knock on his neighbors' door and give them a piece of his mind. Why didn't they tell him anything? What jerks. Sakura didn't care if he was a King, Prince, or some other royal bullshit. He missed his sessions with Togame, so if Suo could fight, well, Sakura would make him taste his fists, and all his frustration.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Sakura left his tiny, rubber-scented office feeling less like a PE teacher and more like a civilian who had just accidentally enlisted in a secret martial society. The information overload—Bofurin, The Four Kings, Suo Hayato as a co-founder of the city's security force—left him dizzy. He needed caffeine, and he needed it now, far away from the echoing sounds of high-schoolers sparring in their school uniforms.

He headed straight to Pothos, Kotoha's café, the safe haven he’d discovered the day before. He pushed open the door, letting the rich scent of roasting coffee and savory herbs wash over him, and immediately spotted the source of half his problems: Umemiya Hajime.

The Principal was settled at a counter table, not in his unprofessional T-shirt, but in a simple, well-worn denim jacket. He was leaning over the counter, addressing Kotoha - who was busy wiping down a coffee machine - with a look of intense, almost spiritual reverence. Kotoha, instead, seemed very pointedly busy not looking at the man.

"Kotoha, my precious little seedling," Umemiya was saying, his voice a low, melodic rumble, utterly oblivious to the other patrons. "This basil you grew for my caprese today... It embodies the spirit of Makochi! So vibrant! So fresh! Just like your soul, my dearest!"

A small sprig of basil was indeed clutched dramatically between Umemiya's thumb and forefinger.

Sakura tilted his head to the side. What was he witnessing? Some bizarre courtship ritual involving basil? Wouldn't a bouquet of flowers be better?

Looking at the Principal making heart eyes at the woman behind the counter, Sakura felt the usual heat rush to his face. It had always been his curse. Whenever anyone displayed affection too freely - touching, with a sweet smile, or even just with excessive words of endearment - Sakura couldn't help but blush crimson like a beet. He still hadn't learned to control it.

Kotoha finally looked up, her expression shifting from focused concentration to mild exasperation, and then her eyes landed on Sakura, standing near the door, petrified and flushed.

"Ah, Sakura-san, I didn't see you. Welcome. I'll take your order right away." Her voice was calm, a steadying presence amidst the Principal's exuberance.

"Ah, yes, thank you..." Sakura mumbled, taking a tentative step toward the counter.

Umemiya, finally sensing a new audience, spun around, his warm, beaming smile aimed directly at Sakura.

"Sakuraaaa! What a wonderful surprise! I didn't know you were a client of my beloved, fabulous Kotoha as well!"

Suddenly, a wooden ladle flew through the air, launched from behind the counter. It was aimed perfectly at the Principal’s head.

With a lightning-fast, casual movement, Umemiya didn't even flinch or look away from Sakura. His hand shot up and plucked the ladle cleanly out of the air, all without breaking his perfect, innocent grin. It was an action of impossible speed and accuracy.

"Kotoha, how many times have I told you that throwing objects is dangerous?" Umemiya chided, holding the ladle up.

Sakura was utterly bewildered. The man who was the least credible High School Principal in the world was the same man who had the reflexes of a world-class martial artist, and the woman who ran the local café was his enthusiastic, weapon-wielding what? Sparring partner? Lover? Girlfriend?

God, why did anything have to be so complicated here?

"So, Sakura-kun, did Iwata tell you about your new responsibilities?" Umemiya asked, his blue eyes sparkling with genuine enthusiasm. "I told him you'd be a perfect fit!"

Sakura just pointed at the ladle and then at Umemiya’s hand. "Your reflexes are terrifying. And... Yes, he delivered the message, even though you could have told me yourself, Umemiya-san."

Umemiya chuckled, a deep, easy sound. "Iwata-kun is an excellent messenger. Now, what can I get you? Kotoha makes a truly life-changing Iced Matcha Latte when she's trying to apologize for throwing things. Isn't that true, Kotoha, darling?"

The woman snorted, and Sakura stared. He was starting to believe that in Makochi, being in this state of bewilderment was just the default setting. 

He needed that latte. And possibly a double portion of omurice.

Chapter Text

Sakura was ecstatically savoring his big portion of omurice, his brain momentarily and mercifully distracted from the strange parallel reality he seemed to have landed in, when a commotion erupted outside. A high-pitched, panicked voice was screaming about property damage. Umemiya, still holding the ladle and chatting with a very insufferable Kotoha, rose to his full, imposing height. His sappy expression vanished, replaced by something cold, complex, and lethal. The shift was instantaneous, and Sakura could feel it in his gut. As a fighter, he had developed over the years a sort of sixth sense for danger. And well, the danger wasn't coming from outside but from the very man who, a second before, was acting like a unicorn puppy.

"I’ll be right back, Kotoha," he murmured softly, but with a certain level of authority. "Stay inside."

The woman lost all her feigned impatience and nodded just once, serious.

Umemiya strode out the door, Sakura trailing behind. They found three lanky thugs attempting to tip over a fruit stand near the intersection. The thugs, identifiable by their biker jackets and poor decision-making skills, were laughing until they sensed the sudden drop in temperature. The moment they saw Umemiya - tall, broad, and radiating an aura that could freeze Hell - they stopped mid-movement as if a spell had been cast on them. Then, very bravely and coolly, they shrieked, dropped everything, and ran as if their shoes were on fire. The speed of their retreat suggested they had a personal, traumatic experience with Umemiya, Sakura mused.

Umemiya watched them go with the smallest, most contemptuous curl of his lip. It was a silent, effortless exercise in applied intimidation. He didn't chase them; he didn't need to. The knowledge of his presence was punishment enough. When he turned back, the easy, goofy smile was back in place.

"See? No trouble," Umemiya chirped, adjusting the lapel of his denim jacket. "Just some early morning joggers." He didn't even mention the thugs or the damaged stand. He dismissed the raw, intimidating power he had just displayed as completely unremarkable, walking over to help the shop owner gather the scattered apples.

Sakura felt a chill crawl up his spine. This was a completely different kind of power than he was expecting. Bofurin kept the peace and maintained order through sheer reputation and presence. He realized with dawning horror that the simple Bofurin’s standing was Makochi’s primary security system.

In any case, the admittedly delicious Iced Matcha Latte and double Omurice did little to settle the buzzing frustration Sakura was feeling. The truth about Bofurin's nature and purpose, especially the schizophrenic proximity of Umemiya, had lit a fuse he couldn't put out. He had come here expecting to have to work his tail off just to manage a group of rowdy delinquents, and what he found instead was the most selfless, cooperative, and ridiculously undelinquent activity he could imagine. Umemiya was patiently looking at him, evidently waiting for him to get back inside, but Sakura had another issue to take care of. Something that had become suddenly urgent.

“Ah, Umemiya-san, I’m going home now. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow at school.”

“It’s okay, Sakura… and don’t forget the staff meeting tomorrow at 1 p.m.”

“Ah, right. Tsubakino-san informed me about that.” 

“Good. It will take place on the roof. Don’t be late.”

Sakura nodded and walked away, still feeling restless and a bit out of place. The way the man handled the little incident wasn't what he was expecting. They didn't even have to fight. Was this the true strength of Bofurin? And did these people really want him to be a part of it? He knew where to find the answers he was looking for.

When he was in front of the little porch of the entrance to his house, he didn’t go in. Instead, he approached the near glass condo with a determined, heavy stride. He wasn't just going to knock; he was going to demand a full explanation from his neighbors. He reached the front door and hammered his fist against it three times. The music inside - something cheerful, jazzy, and entirely inappropriate for a house full of fighters - cut out immediately.

The door swung open, and there stood Nirei, wearing a brightly colored apron over a plain white T-shirt. He looked genuinely surprised and delighted. The house smelled strongly of roasted vegetables and meat.

"Haruka-kun! Hi! Do you want to join us for dinner? Mitsuki-kun just finished the stew, and Hayato-kun is slicing the bread. Please, come in!" Nirei stepped back, motioning him into the domestic warmth. Sakura couldn’t help but notice Nirei’s arms covered in bruises that weren’t there a few days earlier.

Sakura squinted his eyes but ignored the invitation, the homey smell, and the apron. He was seeing the house not as a hippie commune, but as the military headquarters of the Makochi defense force. "Where is he?" Sakura hissed, his voice sharp with annoyance.

Nirei blinked, his smile dissolving into confusion. "Who?"

"Hayato Suo!" Sakura cut him off, his glare intense. "He… He… He met me at Pothos, and he didn’t say a thing! The dinner, the weird comments, the little compliments about my 'physical energy.' It was all a goddamn recruitment test, wasn't it?"

KiryuMitsuki stepped into view, wearing a pink, soft tunic and purple harem trousers. His expression was flat, cool, and immediately assessing.

"Sakura-sensei. Watch your tone," Kiryusaid, his voice quiet but carrying the authority of one of the "Kings" that Iwata had mentioned.

But it was Suo Hayato who appeared moments later, gliding out of the kitchen with impossible serenity. He was holding a cutting board and a knife, looking like a ridiculously handsome domestic god. He wore simple black drawstring pants and a dark knit sweater. He didn't look angry; he looked intrigued.

Suo set the cutting board gently on a nearby side table. "Nirei, go stir the pot, please. Mitsuki, give us a moment." He turned his full, calm attention to Sakura, his red eye holding a dangerous, knowing glint. "It seems the school motto made an impression. And no, Haruka-kun. It wasn’t a test, not really. I mean… someone needs to assess your real skills, but it won’t be us.”

“Well, why not… You have been having fun behind my back and…”

Suo raised his hand, trying to appease him.

“I am sorry if you thought we were making fun of you, Sakura-kun; it was never our intention. But you need to understand… Being former Furin students and Bofurin Kings, we are supportive of Umemiya-san and his ideals. You may consider us honorary members, but we essentially serve as the second line of defense. That is, what I mean is, should things turn ugly, our good friend Hajime has many people he can rely on, and we are included in that number. Is that clearer?"

"Second line of defense?" Sakura threw his hands up in frustrated exasperation. "I mean, I get it and it’s… kinda cool, but I'm not a vigilante! I'm a PE teacher!”

Suo smiled slowly, a genuine, unsettling expression. "But you are intrigued; it’d be pointless to deny it. And you want to be part of it."

"Fine," Sakura spat as he stepped across the threshold, invading the house's space. He pointed his finger directly at Suo's chest.

"But if I am going to be part of this, then show me how strong a King is," Sakura's voice was low, taut with suppressed power. "You withheld information from me, you played with me, and I am still furious. I need to hit something to settle my nerves. So, fight me, Suo. Right now."

Suo tilted his head, his calm gaze locking onto the challenging light in Sakura's eyes. He didn't need to ask if Sakura was serious. He saw the genuine, beautiful fury there.

He looked down at his sweater, then back at Sakura. "Right now? Fine. But we take it outside. I don't want Kiryu-kun to get mad at me for ruining the mood."

Suo’s smile was the most unsettling thing Sakura had seen all day. It was a serene acknowledgment of a threat, completely free of fear. Kiryu, still draped in his pink tunic, leaned out from the kitchen and gave Suo a brief, cool stare. "Don't mess up your new sweater, Hayato. And no breaking bones," he commanded, then sighed and turned back toward the kitchen, where Nirei was already poking at the stew with a massive spoon, looking worried, but resigned.

"Let's go, Haruka-kun."

Sakura didn't need to be asked twice. He spun on his heel, exiting the apartment with a controlled burst of adrenaline, Suo following him with that maddening, effortless grace.

They bypassed the front of the condo and headed for the secluded courtyard at the back, a space framed by high walls and dense shrubbery, usually reserved for gardening. The setting sun cast long, orange shadows, and the air was still and cool. It was a perfect stage for a fight.

Suo didn't even bother stretching. He simply turned to face Sakura, his hands hanging loosely at his sides. He looked less like a fighter and more like a high-level chess player waiting for an opponent to make a move. His red eye glinted, studying Sakura, analyzing every muscle in tension.

"No rules, just stop before someone gets hurt too badly," Suo said calmly. 

Sakura didn't waste time talking. He was an explosive fighter, preferring to overwhelm an opponent with a rapid, unexpected opening attack. The pent-up frustration from the past days coalesced into a singular, tight knot of energy.

He launched forward. It was a full-power straight punch aimed at Suo’s shoulder, meant to destabilize him instantly. But Suo was ready. He didn't move backward; instead, he moved into the blow, taking a half-step sideways that turned the full force of Sakura’s punch into a grazing strike.

Before Sakura could retract his fist, Suo’s left hand, moving with shocking speed, darted out and clamped onto Sakura’s wrist.

Sakura felt a sharp, precise pain shoot up his arm. It wasn't a heavy, brutal grip, but a technique designed to target pressure points, momentarily locking Sakura’s entire arm.

Damn, he's fast, Sakura thought, already adjusting to the different style. He used his signature acrobatic style, spinning his body low to yank his arm free, simultaneously driving a fierce kick at Suo’s grounded leg. This was the same technique that took down Iwata, the one that used momentum and agility over brute force.

Suo, however, didn't jump or dodge; he simply planted his feet firmer. With a smooth, rotational twist of his torso, a movement that transferred all his body weight into his defense, he absorbed the brunt of the kick and blocked it with his shin, making a dull, heavy thud echo in the courtyard.

Sakura felt the sting travel up his own leg. Suo’s defense was like hitting solid steel, and his stance hadn't even wavered. Suo didn't retaliate, though. He just maintained his position, his expression still perfectly composed as he watched.

Okay. He's a defensive counter-fighter.

Sakura changed tactics. He pushed off the ground, moving with blurring speed to circle Suo, delivering a series of fast, snapping jabs. He aimed not to connect with lethal force, but to force Suo to expose an opening.

Suo responded with economy of movement that was terrifyingly effective. He parried every strike with minimal effort, his hands moving minimally, deflecting Sakura’s fists that were instead uselessly wide. He wasn't using his strength; it was the fighting style of someone who had long surpassed the need for unnecessary aggression, and Sakura wasn’t used to it.

Finally, Sakura delivered a rapid-fire combination: a jab to the face, a hook to the ribs, and a final, powerful uppercut.

Suo blocked the first two with the palms of his hands. It was less a deflection and more an absorption of energy. When the uppercut came, aimed at his jaw, Suo didn’t try to block or dodge. Instead, he dropped his center of gravity suddenly, letting the punch sail harmlessly past his ear, and simultaneously lunged forward, not to strike, but to pin Sakura.

One strong arm wrapped around Sakura's waist, and his other hand gripped the back of Sakura's neck, forcing him into a tight, inescapable hold. Sakura was completely immobilized, his own momentum having locked him into Suo's embrace.

Suo's voice, low and calm, sounded directly in Sakura’s ear, carrying a hint of finality. "That's enough, Haruka-kun. Your speed is excellent, and your footwork is magnificent. But you see… You fight to release energy. I fight to control it. We could go on like this forever, and honestly? Dinner is ready, and it would be a pity to let it get cold."

He released Sakura as quickly as he'd grabbed him, stepping back two paces and straightening his sweater.

Sakura stood there, breathing heavily, his entire body thrumming with residual adrenaline and the shock of defeat. He hadn't landed a single clean blow. Suo hadn't broken a sweat.

"Fuck… You… You…”

Suo gave him his most unimpressed look. 

“Me? Uhm… What are you trying to say, Sakura-kun?”

“You are strong… And I guess I have missed my sessions with… Togame," Sakura managed. "He was the only one who could block my blows."

Suo smiled again, but this time, it felt less unsettling and more genuine, like a fighter’s acknowledgment. "Togame, uh?”

“Yeah… He is a friend from college. He is… the strongest fighter I know… I mean, until now. He was the one who talked to me about Furin… What I am trying to say is that I… I enjoyed sparring with you.”

“Ah, Sakura… That's flattering. And a good sign. It means you were looking for a challenge, not just a fight." He gestured to the glass building behind him. "Come on. Let's talk about the second line of defense over dinner. I bet Nirei is getting worried."

Sakura stood there, breathing heavily, his entire body thrumming with residual adrenaline and the shock of defeat. But there was something else: a strange, unfamiliar heat that had nothing to do with exertion. When Suo had his arm wrapped around his waist, pinning him, the unexpected proximity of the other man had made Sakura's skin prickle. He felt a fierce, almost magnetic pull toward that calm, devastating power. He realized with a jolt that he hadn't just enjoyed the fight; he had enjoyed being overpowered by Suo’s strength. The physical closeness and the undeniable force had triggered the familiar, unwanted rush of heat to his cheeks.

Dammit, Sakura thought, shoving his hands into his tracksuit pockets to hide the slight tremor. He missed his sessions with Togame, yes, but he realized what he really missed was the feeling of challenging an equal, or a superior, and getting that rush of pure, focused energy. He hoped they could do that again. He wanted to challenge Suo again, to fight against him, to see if he could land his blows on his body.

Sakura followed Suo back inside, the smell of savory stew immediately reaching his nostrils, making his mouth water. The intensity of the duel outside clashed violently with the domestic calm reigning in the living room. 

But as soon as he saw them, Nirei rushed over, genuine concern etched on his face. "Hayato-kun! Haruka-kun! Are you alright? I was going to come check on you…"

"We're fine, Nirei," Suo interrupted gently, placing a hand on Nirei's shoulder and squeezing it. "Just a quick spar. And, I must say, it didn’t disappoint. Haruka-kun is truly impressive."

Kiryu was setting the table, his movements precise, his focus entirely on the task. "Nirei, get the bowls. And sit down, Haruka-sensei. We were just about to eat."

Sakura sat down stiffly. He watched Suo and Nirei interact as they moved harmoniously to plate the stew. They seemed incredibly familiar with one another, but it wasn’t only that. Sakura realized that Suo’s true strength and control weren’t just for fighting, but for managing the strange arrangements these men seemed to have. Suddenly, Sakura was hit by a sudden, sharp pang of what felt suspiciously like jealousy.

Finally appeased, Nirei sat down, followed by all of them. The bruises on his arm were still visible, and Kiry pointed them out with detached observation.

"Nirei, those look worse than this morning. You need to use the balm. You're going to scar if you're not careful."

Nirei glanced at the marks, then shrugged, looking over at Suo with a familiar, easy grin.

"Oh, those? Don't worry about it, Mitsuki-kun. Suo just went too hard on me last night. They’ll fade. He always forgets his own strength when he’s focused."

“I know, but he shouldn’t be so rough with you,” Kiryu said with a hint of reproach in his voice. Suo, on his part, didn’t seem sorry at all. If anything, he looked… smug.

“Nirei-kun is stronger than he seems, and I can't take it easy on him, can I?”

The weird conversation hit Sakura with the force of an actual blow.

Too hard on him last night? Shouldn’t be so rough with him?

Sakura’s internal fuse, already short, completely blew. His mind provided an instant, lurid image that had nothing to do with sparring or Bofurin. The heat returned, instantly flooding his face, neck, and ears, turning him a brilliant, painful crimson. His vision blurred slightly from the sudden rush of blood, and he gripped the edge of the table hard enough to make his knuckles white.

So that’s it, he thought, his composure utterly shattered. The feeling of betrayal - of being teased and tested - was compounded by a strange, deep ache of disappointment.

Suo, who had just been about to pick up his chopsticks, paused. He was looking directly at Sakura’s face. Unlike Nirei and Kiryu, who were already serving the food, Suo had the keen eye of a master observer. He saw the sudden, volcanic redness, the rigidity of Sakura’s posture, and the wide, panicked look in his eyes.

Suo followed the line of sight from Sakura's face to Nirei's exposed, bruised arm, and then back to Nirei’s casual comment.

A slow, knowing smile spread across Suo’s face, a smile that held mischief, intelligence, and just a hint of genuine amusement. He realized instantly what Sakura was thinking.

Leaning back slightly in his chair, Suo let his red eye bore into Sakura’s, his voice dropping to a smooth, purring low murmur that only Sakura could hear clearly.

"Hey, Haruka-kun," Suo drawled, his tone utterly brazen. "Maybe you should join us for our 'nightly sessions' so I can see if you can take my strength better than Nirei-kun."

Sakura yelped, gaping at Suo, completely flabbergasted. His bewilderment was made infinitely worse by Nirei, who, oblivious to Sakura's inner turmoil, shrieked enthusiastically, "Oh, that's a wonderful idea, Hayato! I mean, a session for three could be very exciting! Maybe Mitsuki could even join if he feels like it."

No one answered Nirei. The stew, the table, and the jazz music all seemed to fade as both Suo and Kiryu locked their eyes onto Sakura, who appeared utterly paralyzed: his fork still suspended mid-air, his mouth open, and his eyes unfocused. The blush on his face was so dark it looked painful.

Kiryu let out a very loud, very dramatic sigh, resting a pair of chopsticks down onto the table.

"There. Are you two happy?" Kiryu cracked, his voice cool but carrying a sharp edge of exasperation.

"Especially you, Hayato. I think you've managed to break Sakura-kun.”

Chapter Text

The embarrassment from last night’s disastrous dinner had only just begun to recede when Sakura found himself standing on the school rooftop, surrounded by the entire faculty and the inner circle of Bofurin students.

It had taken Suo about three minutes that morning, catching Sakura just as he was locking his apartment door, to clarify the situation. Suo’s apology was concise, and at least it sounded sincere.

"My apologies, Haruka-kun. Nirei-kun is always incredibly enthusiastic about... everything. And I can’t deny that I find you… Cute when you get all embarrassed. But he meant our training sessions. I have been teaching him how to fight since we were still in school."

The relief was immediate, but the lingering heat of having been completely undone by his own assumptions still made Sakura bristle. When Suo followed the apology with a serious, direct invitation, however, Sakura couldn't refuse.

"You are fast, accurate, and disciplined. You need a partner who can truly push you. So, forget the misunderstandings, okay? I promise I’ll… behave, but will you train with us this afternoon?"

Sakura had mumbled a reluctant, "Fine, but don't call them 'nightly sessions' in front of me," and the matter was settled.

Now, on the roof, the atmosphere was vibrant with different kinds of vibes, mixing into something Sakura wasn’t accustomed to yet. The people around chatted easily, but beneath the apparent calm, everyone moved with the coiled readiness of a fighter. He recognized a few more teachers from his brief tour, all of whom seemed to have necks thicker than his thighs.

The Student Representative, a serious-looking young man named Katsumoto Toshiro with dark, shaved hair, took his place alongside his peers, that is, the current Four Heavenly Kings. Sakura briefly met them and got the idea they were a terrifyingly quiet group of third-years whose posture alone spoke of deadly experience.

Then, Suo arrived with Kiryu, Nirei, and a few other former students, who, Sakura assumed, had been in the command structure of Bofurin in previous years. They weren’t staff, but the entire rooftop attendants greeted them with genuine joy with a chorus of deep voices calling out their names. Another year was about to start, but this wasn’t just about education. This was about community, and family, and a kind of mutual trust and affection that Sakura had never experienced in his school years.

Umemiya clapped his hands together, his goofy grin in place. "Alright, everyone! Let's celebrate!"

Sakura had braced himself for a security update, for some strategy talk, some rules setting, or whatever. Instead, Umemiya launched into a ten-minute monologue about the importance of proper soil fertilization for the bell peppers he was trying to grow for Kotoha’s café, and how the sunlight reflected the vibrant soul of his extensive basil plantation.

Sakura looked around, astonished. Everyone was listening to the Headmaster's words with rapt attention. After the first few minutes of stoic waiting, Sakura began to feel uneasy.

"What is he even talking about?" Sakura thought, rubbing his temples and muttering under his breath. "Is this a school or a gardening club? I can’t believe I’m listening to this..."

"A gardening club, you say?"

The voice was cold and dangerously close. Vice Principal Sugishita, the towering man with the stern face, had stepped up behind Sakura. His voice was a challenging growl, loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Watch your mouth, Teach. You can’t understand the depth of Umemiya's vision. But… if you have a problem with Bofurin's leadership or its philosophy, prove you deserve to criticize it. Or are you perhaps afraid of a real confrontation that isn't with a student?"

Sugishita's eyes narrowed, while a tense silence descended on the gathered people. The challenge was clear, and everyone on the roof was staring at them, waiting for his answer. 

The blood rushed to Sakura’s head, not from embarrassment this time, but from pure, competitive adrenaline. He felt every eye on him, including Suo's. And he knew, looking at the Vice Principal's build, that he couldn't go easy on him or he would have hurt himself.

Sugishita was the type of opponent who, like Togame and like Sakura himself, used brute force to annihilate the enemy. No quarter, no mercy. 

That was more than fine with him.

"Fine," Sakura snapped, stepping forward. "Let’s fight. Right now."

A huge roar of appreciation went up from the students. This was clearly the kind of staff meeting they enjoyed.

Just as Sugishita was cracking his knuckles with a chilling smile, a frantic, red-faced first-year student burst onto the roof, panting heavily.

"Katsumoto-san! Class 3-1 needs backup! They were ambushed by Kaze no Ikon on the east side of town, near the old warehouse district!"

The celebratory mood vanished instantly. Umemiya’s face hardened, turning back to the lethal expression Sakura had witnessed at the café.

The Student Representative didn't hesitate. "Tora-kun, organize two squads of third-years! Let’s move!"

The entire roof transformed from a celebratory meeting into a command center in seconds. As students orderly sprinted down the stairs, Suo positioned himself next to Sakura, his gaze holding something fierce and… irreverent.

"This could be your initiation, sensei," Suo said, his voice still calm, despite the fire burning in the red of his eye. "Maybe it’s not the match you wanted, but it’s the real thing. We can show them what the 'second line of defense' is capable of."

Sakura didn’t have the time to think, but he nodded and followed Suo as they broke into a dead run through the streets of Makochi.

Despite wearing his black pants, a white changshan, and a light coat, Suo was frighteningly fast. His strides were long and effortless, a quiet current of power contrasted sharply with Sakura's slightly more frantic energy. Yet, they moved as one, a pair of predators tracking their prey.

"This gang is a nuisance, but they're just a bunch of cowards," Suo called over the rush of the wind. "They've had a grudge against Bofurin for years, but they've never been a real threat. Hitting Bofurin directly, and a first-year class on top of that, is a declaration of war. They must have thought our freshmen were easy targets."

"We'll show them," Sakura grunted, feeling the familiar, thrilling burn in his muscles. The frustration from the morning, the tension of the last few days, and the adrenaline of the challenge against Sugishita all vanished, replaced by a crystalline focus. He was finally doing what he was truly good at.

As soon as they arrived at the warehouse district, they found the patrol squad of first-years trying to check the enemy's progress. The air was thick with tension, and the students were doing their best to defend their position, but they were outnumbered and clearly struggling.

"The main group is over in there!" one first-year shouted, pointing toward a massive, broken door to a storehouse. Out of the corner of his eye, Sakura saw Katsumoto heading toward the building. It was clear that the real battle was taking place inside. Suo didn't pause. "Haruka-kun. They are trying to enter the storehouse. Let’s split!"

They moved up instantly. Suo cut left, silently and slowly, using the shadows of the ruined building to hide. Sakura went right, embracing the speed and the parkour-like moves he knew best, to launch himself onto a loading dock roof for a higher vantage point.

A group of six thugs was trying to break past the students who were trying to block the passage. They were bulky, tattooed, and focused solely on the first-years in front of them.

Perfect.

Sakura dropped, landing with a soft thud behind two of the enemy thugs. The element of surprise was everything. He hit the first man with a devastating, lightning-quick side kick to the knee, causing the thug to buckle and roar in pain. Before the second asshole could react, Sakura spun, driving a closed elbow into the man’s solar plexus. The man gasped, folding over himself and collapsing.

The remaining four thugs spun, startled, to face the newcomer.

"Who the hell are you!?" one snarled, his fist ready to hit.

Sakura grinned, a feral expression that could as well belong on Togame’s face. "The P.E. teacher. Class is in session."

He lunged into the fray, turning his speed and flexibility into weaponized grace. He dodged a wild swing, ducking beneath it to deliver a punishing uppercut that snapped one faceless head back. He followed up with a sweeping leg that tripped the next man, then used the momentum of his pivot to launch a full-body kick against the remaining two, knocking them into a stack of empty barrels.

It was a display of controlled power, fast, precise, and unstoppable.

A shout came from the left flank, where Suo was finishing his work. Suo wasn't using his fancy moves this time; he was using technical strikes. Each blow was perfectly aimed to incapacitate, ending fights with minimal effort. He had just smashed the last of his opponents against a wall with a forceful pressure-point flat-hand hit when he glanced over just to get a glimpse of Sakura’s whirlwind performance. A small, satisfied smirk touched Suo's lips.

"We are done here," Suo stated, his voice calm. "Let’s go inside."

Inside, where the "core conflict" was taking place. Where Katsumoto was engaging in a brutal, drawn-out battle with the gang leader, who was huge, robust, and seemed to have an endless well of violent energy.

As Sakura and Suo approached, the two opponent paused, catching their breath. But when the Kaze no Ikon leader spotted Suo, his eyes widened with fear, much like the thugs who ran from Umemiya. But he had a reputation to hold, so he tried to look menacing and act as a true leader, even though he was evidently wetting his pants.

"Ah… Suo Hayato and the new teacher… The freak…" He spat, sweat pouring down his face. “What are you doing here, babysitting the newcomer now?"

Suo stepped forward, his serenity instantly silencing the tension in the entire clearing. "This is Makochi, Togo. You know how it works here. You broke the rule." His voice was flat, carrying zero emotion, yet somehow it was the most intimidating sound Sakura had ever heard.

"You know what? Let the teacher fight me," Togo sneered, trying to save face. "Unless the old King is too scared to let the puppy play."

Sakura bristled, ready to leap, but Suo raised a hand, stopping him.

"No, Togo," Suo corrected, a dangerous coolness in his tone. "I'm fighting you. Haruka-kun is here to make sure none of your men try to run away. They need to learn, and to do that, they need to see their leader fall."

Suo glanced back at Sakura, his red eye holding a challenging spark. "Watch this, Haruka-kun. This is how you end a war."

And then, Suo moved.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Sakura was still speechless about what he had just witnessed. What was that? Was it already over?

Suo had lunged forward with a sudden, fluid speed that was so unlike Sakura’s acrobatic explosiveness. He closed the distance in a heartbeat, dodging the leader's wild, power-driven but futile attempts at hitting him first. Suo secured his position, then ended it with two devastating, minimal movements. A quick, precise parry deflected Togo's fist, immediately followed by a lethal elbow strike that landed into the side of the gang leader, breaking his ribs.

The impact was focused in a single point of contact and brutal. Togo gasped, his massive frame folding over like paper, and he dropped to his knees, humiliated and defeated.

The entire exchange took less than ten seconds.

The remaining enemies, who had been watching in stunned silence, now were gaping at their leader and then at Suo, with their jaws slack and their eyes wide with incredulity. Seeing their leader reduced to a whimpering lump by a man who didn't even look minimally ruffled was enough. As the shouts of the approaching Bofurin reinforcements echoed at the entrance of the warehouse, the scumbags abandoned their comrades and bolted away like rats.

"It is over," Suo announced, looking down at the man who was evidently in pain, then back at Katsumoto, who was staring at Suo with wide-eyed reverence. "Clean up the mess. And make sure Togo knows that this is the last time an attack is tolerated. Next time we will hunt them down until we purge the last of them."

Sakura stood frozen, his adrenaline fading into pure, dumbfounded admiration. Suo hadn't just won; he had ended the entire conflict with one clinical display of power. This was the true strength of a King.

By the time the injured first-years were being tended to, Sakura and Suo left the organized clean-up to the third-year students, walking back toward the school side by side.

Sakura felt a high-wire tension that had nothing to do with fighting and everything to do with the man beside him. He couldn't stop thinking about the feeling of being pressed against Suo's strength in the courtyard, or the terrifying strength Suo had just demonstrated.

"Suo…”

“Yes, Haruka-kun?”

“You… You weren’t… fair," Sakura muttered, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. "I mean… You broke him."

Suo chuckled, a soft, dry sound. "You were impressive as well, Haruka-kun," he commented as if Sakura had just complimented him. "That quick elbow strike was masterful."

Sakura gave him the side-eye, but Suo still looked completely unperturbed, his gaze straight ahead, walking at a relaxed pace with his hands behind his back, until Sakura's silence probably piqued his curiosity. Suo turned to look at him, and seeing his mood had somehow soured, he sighed. "See, this is why we generally don't get mixed up in fights, but Togo... He founded the gang Wind’s Grudge purely out of spite for Bofurin, and the fact that they jumped first-years on the first day of school tells you everything you need to know about their idea of 'playing fair.' They had to be dealt with immediately, before things escalated. Plus, I wanted to show you how things work around here, and also... well, I was curious to see how you'd fare in a real emergency."

Sakura looked at him, baffled by the simple but somehow unsettling explanation.

“If you need a moment to collect yourself, I was going to make a cup of tea. Nirei-kun and Kiryu-kun aren’t home yet. Would you make me company?"

Sakura swallowed, the simple invitation feeling far more dangerous than the entire gang fight. The thought of being alone with Suo, without Nirei’s cheerful buffer or Kiryū’s watchful eye, made his heart hammer. He should have said no. He nodded instead. Of course he did.

"Okay… A quick cup, though. I… I probably need a shower." …and probably to call into question all my decisions that led me to Makochi.

Something mischievous passed in Suo’s eye, but Sakura decided that he was going just to ignore that. Once inside, the apartment felt huge and strangely empty. Suo moved toward the kitchen island while Sakura stayed near the entryway, still feeling profoundly out of place.

"Sit down, Haruka-kun," Suo gestured at the island, heating the kettle. "And tell me about this Togame you mentioned."

Sakura couldn’t tell why Suo would be curious about his old friend, but he shrugged it off. He remained standing, though, the adrenaline from the fight making him restless.

"Ah… Yes, well, he's… he was my rival in college," Sakura stammered, his eyes following Suo's relaxed movements. "At first. Then we fought… and, God, it was brutal.” Sakura giggled, remembering how Togame had beaten him up, leaving him sore in bed for a few of days. “After that, we became attached at the hip. He was the only one who could push me."

Suo smiled, turning from the kettle. "Well, I saw how easily you get fired up. I suspect I could push you even harder." Then Suo didn't wait for a response. He moved, closing the distance in two silent steps. He wasn’t forceful; he just took the space between them, caging Sakura against the wall by the kitchen island.

"And about all those misunderstandings, Haruka-kun," Suo murmured, his voice low and dangerous, his eye holding Sakura's. "Maybe I wasn't completely clear about one thing."

Before Sakura could process the words, Suo clashed his mouth against his. The kiss was demanding, firm, and downright shocking. It was exactly like Suo’s fighting style, controlled, precise, and impossible to counteract. Sakura’s brain short-circuited. He let out a small gasp, as his shock melted into a wave of exhilarating heat that wiped away every thought of Furin High, PE classes, Bofurin, fighting, or anything else, really. He surged forward, grabbing handfuls of Suo’s coat, drowning in the unexpected, incredible sensation.

Then, just as suddenly, a panic attack of ice-cold logic crashed through the haze. 

What the Hell are we doing? Nirei. Kiryu. They’ll be back soon.

The image of their weird interactions, of their strange, ineffable lifestyle, filled his mind. Sakura felt like a new, amusing toy that Suo wanted to play with. In a move fueled by shame, fear, and instinct, Sakura pulled back, shoving Suo hard in the chest with a strength that briefly broke the other man’s controlled posture.

"What the hell are you doing?! This is not…" Sakura yelled, his voice cracking. Without waiting for Suo’s empty excuses, Sakura gave him another push and bolted from the apartment. Most of all, he ran from a complication he wasn't ready for. He slammed the door shut behind him and ran blindly toward his own building, his breath ragged and his cheeks burning. He burst onto his own small porch, nearly tripping over the step, and stumbled directly into a wall of solid muscle.

"Hey… Watch it, short stuff," a deep, familiar voice rumbled.

Sakura looked up, his panic momentarily frozen by sheer disbelief. Standing there was a tall, broad figure, the only person whose physical strength rivaled Suo’s, and whose face was carved with a cheerful, familiar grin.

"Togame?"