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K.
There were twenty-six letters in the alphabet, but only one had class.
Only one had power.
Only one had taste.
K. The letter of champions. The signature of legends. The birthright of the elite.
Konami. Kitora. Kako—naturally.
And yet…
Across Border's cafeteria, Kako flung herself across the lunch table like a Shakespearian heroine with a branding obsession. “Why,” she declared aloud, loud enough to disturb the peace, “was Teruya not born with a better name?”
Her squadmate, Kitagawa Mai, blinked at her over a soybean snack bar. “You say that like it’s her fault.”
“It isn’t,” Kako said, with the long-suffering air of someone burdened with beauty, genius, and a consistently uncooperative draft pool. “But still. She’s so close to perfection. She’s beautiful. She’s ruthless. She’s got range. But F for Fumika? T for Teruya? That’s not recruitable material.”
“You tried to poach her?” Kitagawa asked, not even pretending to sound surprised.
Kako smiled. Sweetly. Dangerously. “I’m always scouting. The Kako Squad is more than a strike team. It’s a vision. A curated force of aesthetic and strategic excellence.”
Konami and Kitora had gotten away.
Konami, with her ever-so-punchable smirk. Kitora, with that high-horse attitude—adorable, but tragically proud.
But Teruya… Teruya had potential. Not raw—refined. Not loud—focused. All she lacked was a single letter.
And then.
She saw them. Teruya and her squad captain, across the cafeteria. Laughing. Casual. Her arm brushed his. He smiled—quiet, reliable, boring in the kind of way Kako found mildly tolerable. And her brain seized the moment like inspiration descending from the heavens.
Kakizaki.
Her eyes widened.
K. A. K. I. Z. A. K. I.
“Oh. My. Fried. Rice.”
The revelation hit her like a surprise roulette with extra ghost pepper. Kako slammed her palms onto the table, sending napkins fluttering. Kitagawa jumped.
“WHAT?!”
“IF HE MARRIES HER, SHE CAN BE A K.”
“Kako-chan—what—”
“Fumika Kakizaki!” Kako cried, leaping to her feet with a storm of glitter trailing behind. “It’s not a dream. It’s not a delusion. IT’S A DESTINY!”
Kako did not sprint down the floor. Sprinting was for commoners. She glided.
“Kakizaki-kun!” she proclaimed, pointing a dramatic, polished nail at his face.
The man in question blinked. “Uh,” he said, which was fair. He looked like someone whose normal afternoon had just been hijacked.
“Do you have any plans to marry your squad member?”
He stared.
Teruya blinked.
Silence. The kind that came after a social explosion and before the emotional shrapnel landed.
“…What,” Kakizaki said, voice flat.
Teruya, however, lit up. Sparkles. Literal sparkles in her eyes. “Kako-san, that’s such good advice.”
Kako clapped, radiant with vindication. “See! She’s on board.”
Kakizaki turned to his subordinate. “You’re on board for what?”
“Marriage,” Teruya said breezily. “Hyphenated or not. I don’t mind taking your name if it means being A-rank someday.”
Kako nearly wept. The girl had K-energy all along—it was just waiting.
Kakizaki looked like he was buffering.
“She’s so ready,” Kako whispered, hands pressed to her heart like a woman witnessing a bridal reveal. “You’re wasting her potential. You must secure the K.”
“I don’t think that’s—”
“You don’t understand, Kakizaki-kun,” she interrupted, stepping forward like a prophet. “She has K-energy. It’s latent. Dormant. Waiting to be unlocked. You—you—are the key.”
“That’s not how squad recruitment works,” he said, gently, like someone trying not to spook a well-dressed maniac.
“That’s not how you work,” Kako countered. “But this is Kako Squad, honey. Our laws are higher.”
Teruya folded her arms and nodded at him like a silent accomplice.
“She’s not going to let this go,” Kakizaki muttered.
“Correct,” they said in unison.
Kakizaki ran a hand through his hair, exasperated in the way of a man cornered by delusion and somehow losing.
Later that day, Kako updated her recruitment notebook:
-
Kakizaki–Teruya marriage progress: Stage 1
-
Teruya’s K-potential: Confirmed
-
Future squad uniform sketches: In progress
She closed the book with satisfaction. Life was good.
She could smell fried rice destiny in the air.
Kakizaki could barely believe the last five minutes of his life. He stood frozen in the hallway, still recovering from the chaos Kako-san had left in her glittery, fried-rice-scented wake. His brain felt scrambled—possibly more than the rice—and his heart was thudding for no tactical reason whatsoever.
Next to him, Teruya Fumika stood like absolutely none of it was strange.
"I'm sorry," he said, voice low but sincere. “About everything that just happened.”
Teruya blinked. “Why?”
Kakizaki gestured vaguely in the direction Kako had disappeared. “Kako-san just basically proposed on your behalf.”
“Mm.”
“She… wants you to change your name to Kakizaki so you can qualify for her squad.”
“That part’s new, yeah.”
He rubbed the back of his neck, gaze dropping to the floor. The air still shimmered with whatever residual glitter Kako had released into the atmosphere like a pheromone bomb.
“But she’s not wrong, you know.”
Teruya tilted her head. “About what?”
“You’re talented, Fumika. Like, really talented.” His words came out faster now, like they’d been waiting too long. “You—Ui—Koutarou. You three could probably be A-rank already, if you were under a different captain.”
“…What?”
“I’m not Arashiyama,” he said, voice calm but firm. “I was on his team for years. He was always the one people noticed. He deserves it. But me? I’ve always been the support. That’s my role. I stand back. I let the others shine. And maybe that’s all I’m good for.”
“You’re our captain,” she cut in, tone sharp.
“But if you want to go,” Kakizaki said gently, “if Kako’s offer is real—if it means a better squad, a better future—then it’s okay. I wouldn’t hold you back.”
For a moment, silence.
Then.
“NO???”
Teruya shouted. Kakizaki actually flinched.
“Absolutely NOT???” she repeated, louder, her face a perfect mix of disbelief and betrayal.
“Fumika—”
“You think I’d just leave? You think I joined Border for glory?” She jabbed two fingers right into the front of his vest. “I joined to follow you.”
His eyes widened. Completely stunned.
“Back when you were still with Arashiyama Squad,” she said, face red but voice steady, “everyone was obsessed with Arashiyama-san. The cameras. The PR. The fanbase. But I noticed you. You were the one who backed everyone up. Quiet. Steady. The kind of person who never needed applause to keep doing the right thing.”
Kakizaki’s mouth opened, but no sound came out.
“I thought, ‘That’s the kind of person I want to support.’ That’s the kind of captain I’d bet on.”
“Fumika…”
“So no,” she said firmly, crossing her arms like a final word. “Kako-san doesn’t get me. You do. I’m not switching squads, and I’m definitely not switching names.”
Then... under her breath, too fast—
“…Unless.”
“…Unless?”
She choked on the sound and immediately spun around, her whole neck going red. “Nothing. Forget it.”
Kakizaki blinked. “Fumika?”
Still not turning around, she grumbled, “You’re not allowed to talk bad about yourself again, Captain. Or I’ll get Kako-san to actually marry you out of spite.”
A nervous laugh escaped his chest. “Terrifying.”
“You deserve your squad,” she said, softer this time. “You deserve us.”
This time, the silence that settled wasn’t awkward. It was something else—solid, like a shield around them.
Back in Kako Squad strategy room:
Kako sat cross-legged on her chair, stitching “Fumika Kakizaki” onto a hand towel with disturbingly efficient glee.
Kitagawa (off-screen) said, “You’re not even invited to the wedding yet!!”
Kako, dreamy-eyed, simply smiled. “Yet.”