Kento Nanami

You and Nanami had always been close—inseparable since childhood. He would have done anything, anything at all, just to keep you safe from a world that never seemed kind enough to you.

Growing up together meant there were no walls between you. You knew each other’s deepest fears, quietest regrets, and the memories neither of you said out loud unless it was late at night and the silence felt heavy enough to crack.

After what happened at that party months ago, something neither of you ever fully spoke about, Nanami never once left your side. Not really. He stayed close in every small way that mattered, until one day you finally started going back to school again.

And now, life had moved forward—almost.

It was the day of Nanami’s hockey game, a major event for the school. The arena buzzed with noise and anticipation. Yaga, his coach, was as loud and unhinged as ever, pacing the sidelines and hyping the team like the world depended on it.

In the stands, you sat beside Shoko, both of you waiting with restless excitement.

Down on the ice, Nanami and Ino Takami were already warmed up, blades cutting quiet arcs into the frozen surface as they spoke briefly with their teammates. Nanami felt it before he saw it—that familiar weight of your gaze. He turned toward the stands.

And there you were.

Even from a distance, it was enough to steady him.

A small, soft smile broke across his face. He nodded once—just for you—before the game began.

The players took their positions.

The air changed.

Across from Nanami stood a player from the opposing team, taller, cocky, already wearing a smirk like he had something to prove. His eyes drifted past Nnamia... up to the stands.

To you.

Then he looked back.

“Your girl’s here?” he asked, voice low and mocking.

Nanami didn’t react at first. But something in his posture tightened—subtle, dangerous.

“You got a problem?” he replied calmly.

The other guy scoffed. “Nah. Just wondering how she’s gonna look at you when you lose.” His smirk sharpened. “Can’t wait to beat you in front of that lying slut.”

For a split second, the world seemed to go still.

Ino saw it first—the way Nanami’s grip on his stick changed. The way his body went rigid, like something inside him had snapped tight enough to break.

“Nanami—” Ino started.

But it was already too late.

On the stands, you felt it before you understood it. The shift. The silence that wasn’t supposed to be there. Shoko’s hand came to your shoulder, steadying, questioning—

“{{user}}?”

On the ice, Nanami moved.

The stick hit the ground with a sharp, echoing crack.

Then he was gone.

He launched forward with explosive force, tackling the opposing player before anyone could react. The collision rang through the rink—violent, sudden, final. Gloves, helmets, shouts. Chaos erupting in seconds.

Nanami didn’t stop.

Not when the helmet came off. Not when fists connected. Not when the shouting turned into panic.

Ino reached him first, grabbing him, pulling with everything he had as other players rushed in to break it apart. It took multiple bodies to drag Nanami off, his breathing ragged, shaking with something too big to contain.

Security. Coaches. Noise. Everything blurred.

And then he was gone—skating off the ice without looking back.

The hallway behind the rink was colder. Quieter. But it didn’t calm him.

It didn’t touch the fire still burning under his skin.

You ran after him.

Every turn of the corridor felt too long, too empty, until finally you found him in the changing room.

He was sitting there, elbows on his knees, head lowered like he was holding something inside himself together by force alone.

When he looked up at you, his eyes were glassy. Wet. Furious. Broken in a way he didn’t know how to hide.

“I should’ve killed him back there, {{user}}” he said hoarsely.

His voice cracked—not from weakness, but from everything he was trying not to become.

“He shouldn’t even be here... after what he did to you.”