•|First meeting|• NAOKI (1/3)

The side hallway on the second floor was, in Naoki Fujimori’s extremely professional opinion, the best place in the entire school. Hardly anyone walked through it, the window caught sunlight at the perfect angle near lunch time, and most importantly, people seemed to forget the corridor existed at all. In other words: perfect for existing without being perceived.

Leaning near the lockers, camera hanging from his neck and half his face buried inside the collar of his oversized blue jacket, Naoki adjusted the focus with absolute concentration — tongue slightly sticking out like it always did when he didn’t notice.

Click.

He sighed in satisfaction. The sunlight cutting through floating dust looked almost magical.

Then a massive shadow completely blocked the frame.

"Hey, ghost boy."

Naoki froze so fast it looked like someone had paused him with a remote.

Takeda Renji — third-year dominant alpha, track team captain, and a person who clearly believed quiet hallways were his private property — rested an arm on the locker above Naoki’s head. Behind him stood his loyal entourage: Kuroda (beta, laughed at literally everything Takeda said) and Mika (dominant omega, but only dominant when standing behind someone bigger).

"Shooting pictures of walls now?" Takeda tilted his head. "Or is this modern art?"

Kuroda laughed way too loudly for a bad joke. Mika grabbed Naoki’s camera and lifted it.

"Oh my god, it’s heavy. You don’t even have the arms for this."

Naoki immediately reached out, nervous.

"P-please be careful, it’s old…"

"Old?" Takeda leaned closer. "Like you?"

They laughed.

Naoki gave his automatic survival smile. The plan was simple: apologize for breathing, retrieve camera, evaporate from existence.

Takeda tugged the strap, pulling Naoki closer effortlessly.

"I told you not to take up space, Fujimori. Looking at you is depressing."

Naoki’s heart sped up. Not from fear — he was used to this — but because he was calculating the fastest way to disappear without phasing through walls.

Then another voice came from behind them.

Calm. Low. Firm enough to cut through the hallway noise.

Silence.

Takeda turned, annoyed.

"Who said that?"

Naoki blinked.

The new kid.

He didn’t remember the name — only that he’d transferred recently, was quiet, and nobody had decided yet whether he was brave or just lacked survival instincts.

Takeda snorted.

"You sticking your nose in this?"

The new boy didn’t step back.

Naoki felt something weird in his stomach. It started like anxiety… but it wasn’t exactly anxiety.

Takeda shoved him.

"Wanna play hero?"

The shove back came immediately.

Everything happened too fast after that.

Kuroda: "WOAH!" Mika: "THERE’S A TEACHER—" Locker slamming. Footsteps running. Students spawning out of nowhere like curious NPCs.

Naoki stood frozen clutching his camera to his chest while watching the new boy trade hits with an alpha nearly four inches taller.

He should’ve been worried.

He should’ve called someone.

He should’ve panicked.

But his brain simply activated slow-motion mode.

Every movement looked ridiculously sharp. His breathing shortened. His face heated up.

A lot.

"He’s… fighting… for me?"

Takeda tried grabbing the boy’s collar but got slammed into the lockers instead. The entire corridor rattled.

Naoki’s heart jumped.

Not from fear.

From something else.

Something warm and tight in his chest like he swallowed a light bulb.

He touched his own face.

Hot.

Very hot.

"Am I… getting sick?"

The new boy held Takeda down until teachers finally appeared yelling. The fight ended there.

But Naoki couldn’t look away.

His chest felt light and heavy at the same time. His mind empty and loud.

And when the new boy breathed hard, clearly hurt, a sudden crushing guilt stabbed Naoki.

"He got hurt… because of me."

Teachers took the new boy to the infirmary.

Naoki stayed frozen.

Five seconds.

Ten.

Then he spun around and hurried down the hallway — which, by Naoki standards, was basically Olympic sprinting, his oversized jacket flapping dramatically behind him.

He stopped at the infirmary door, breathing like he’d climbed an emotional mountain.

He opened it.

The new boy sat on the bed while the nurse cleaned a cut on his face. The smell of disinfectant was strong.

Naoki froze in the doorway.

"I-I…"

The nurse left complaining about "violent teenagers" and closed the door.

Absolute silence.

Naoki walked toward the bed like each step was a life decision. His hands squeezed the jacket sleeves.

"I came… to check if you…"

He raised his eyes.

And instantly turned red again.

His heart raced just like before.

The feeling returned.

Stronger.

Without really noticing, he grabbed the new boy’s hand with both of his small cold hands.

Instant brain short-circuit.

"A-are you okay??" it came out way too fast. "Does it hurt?? You got hit here and here and also there, I saw everything — not that I was staring, I mean I was but not in a weird way—!"

He stopped, breathed, completely defeated by his own embarrassment.

"I-I can get ice… or water… or… another medical professional…"

He looked at their hands.

Realized.

Froze.

His face turned tomato red.

But he didn’t let go.

His fingers tightened slightly without meaning to.

"Thank you… for defending me…"

His voice came out soft.

Sincere.

He swallowed, still holding the hand carefully like it might disappear.

"I-I… can I know your name?"