Chapter Text
01.
When Hanamichi Sakuragi enrolled at Shohoku High, he believed it would mark the beginning of a brand-new chapter in his life. A reset. A chance to finally leave everything behind.
After all, his last moments before the end of the school year at Wakou Junior High had gone terribly—spectacularly—wrong. The memory clung to him like a stain no amount of denial could scrub away. Whenever it resurfaced, Sakuragi couldn’t help but slam his own head against the nearest wall, pole, or concrete surface, as if physical pain could knock the humiliation out of his skull.
Confessing to a beta woman only to be rejected because she was already in love with a basketball player hadn’t been part of his plan. Neither was going into an unexpected heat immediately afterward.
That, more than anything, was the true nightmare.
It hadn’t been subtle. It hadn’t been private. By the time the chaos ended, everyone in Wakou Junior High who had witnessed the scene knew the truth about him—knew what he really was.
An omega.
Hanamichi Sakuragi still didn’t understand how it had happened. He had taken more suppressants than usual that day, carefully measured and swallowed with the desperate hope that they would erase any trace of his second gender. He had convinced himself that if he tried hard enough, if he wanted it badly enough, he could pass as a strong, untouchable beta forever.
But emotions were dangerous things.
The rejection, the humiliation, the jealousy—everything spiraled out of control, overwhelming the suppressants and dragging his biology screaming to the surface. His carefully built image shattered in front of the entire school. The “fearsome delinquent beta of Wakou Junior High” was reduced to a cautionary tale whispered behind lockers and classroom doors.
The memory still made him want to rip his hair out.
But none of that mattered anymore.
Wakou was behind him now. Shohoku was different. A new school, new faces, new rules. Here, no one knew his secret—no one except a small handful of friends he trusted with his life.
And that was how it would stay.
Hanamichi Sakuragi swore to himself that no one at Shohoku would ever find out what he really was. No matter what it took.
On the other hand, Mito Yohei, who was watching Sakuragi from not too far away, couldn’t help but worry about his best friend. Ever since the incident—the one where his second gender had been accidentally revealed—Sakuragi had barely spoken to anyone. The loud, brash presence that usually dominated the room was gone, replaced by an unsettling quiet. He still showed up, still sat in class, but it was obvious he hadn’t fully processed what had happened.
For the first time since Mito had known him, the red-haired troublemaker had grown… introverted.
“Hey, Yohei! How’s Hanamichi doing?”
Mito’s thoughts were interrupted by Ookusu’s voice calling out from the hallway outside the classroom.
“I don’t think he’s recovered yet,” Mito replied, nodding toward the window seats. “Actually, it looks like he’s become kind of introverted.”
Sakuragi sat near the classroom window, chin resting on his hand, staring blankly at the school grounds outside. His expression was distant, as if his mind was somewhere far away—anywhere but here.
“Hey, Hanamichi!” Ookusu called out, completely oblivious. “Cheer up already! Who cares if you got rejected because of a basketball player?”
Mito barely had time to register the words before everything happened at once.
Sakuragi stood up in a flash.
There was a sharp thud.
And just like that, Ookusu was on the floor, clutching his head, a rapidly forming lump swelling where Sakuragi’s forehead had collided with his own.
The classroom fell silent.
Mito stared for a second—then couldn’t help but chuckle to himself.
Omega or not, Hanamichi Sakuragi was still terrifyingly strong. Stronger than most alphas he knew, honestly.
“Yuji,” Mito said calmly, glancing down at the groaning Ookusu, “I think the word basketball is officially off-limits now.”
After headbutting Ookusu—and a few other unlucky classmates who dared to utter the forbidden word basketball—Sakuragi left the classroom in a huff. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets as he stalked down the hallway, footsteps heavy against the floor.
Tsk. What’s so great about Oda being on the basketball team anyway?
He’s probably just some annoying alpha. Nothing special at all.
He hates the basketball team.
As he walked, his gaze drifted toward the windows lining the corridor. Outside, cherry blossoms were beginning to bloom, pale pink petals fluttering gently in the spring air. It was warm and bright out there—yet somehow, his chest felt cold.
“Um… excuse me.”
Sakuragi barely registered the voice at first.
“May I ask… Do you like basketball?”
The moment the word reached his ears, Sakuragi’s eyes flared with instant fury. His muscles tensed, body already turning as instinct kicked in, ready to strike whoever had dared to say it—
Then he stopped.
Standing in front of him was a girl.
She looked up at him, clearly startled by his sudden movement but not frightened. Sakuragi blinked, his anger short-circuiting as his brain scrambled to process the situation.
A beta, he realized automatically. There was no hint of omega scent, no sharp alpha presence either.
She was… pretty.
She had shoulder-length chocolate-brown hair that framed her face softly, skin pale as snow, and a pair of dark brown eyes that looked earnest and kind. The kind of eyes that made it hard to stay mad.
“Do you like basketball?” she asked again, tilting her head slightly.
Sakuragi didn’t answer right away. Instead, he found himself straightening his posture without thinking, standing taller—if that was even possible.
The girl, seemingly unbothered by his silence, began circling him slowly, examining him with open curiosity while muttering under her breath.
“Wow… you’re really tall. I wonder who’s taller—you or Rukawa-kun…”
She crouched slightly to look at his shoes.
“Your feet are big too! You must be an athlete!”
That snapped Sakuragi out of it.
He scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “Ah—no, not really…” he replied.
His heart was beating way too fast.
Being this close to a beautiful beta woman made him nervous in a way he hadn’t expected. If this were Wakou Junior High—if his second gender had never been exposed—he would’ve already started flirting without a second thought.
But things were different now.
Even though she didn’t know he was an omega, even though he took his suppressants every day to keep his scent hidden, the fear lingered. The hesitation. The memory of what had happened with Yoko still burned too brightly.
Sakuragi let out a quiet sigh.
Now that he thought about it, Yoko and this girl looked oddly similar. The same gentle air. The same warm eyes. The only difference was that Yoko’s hair had been longer—and darker.
As if suddenly remembering her manners, the girl stepped back and bowed slightly.
“Oh—sorry! I didn’t even introduce myself.” She smiled. “My name is Akagi Haruko. I’m also a first-year student here at Shohoku!”
“Ah… I’m Hanamichi Sakuragi,” he replied stiffly. “First year.”
Her eyes lit up.
“So—do you like basketball?” she asked brightly. “Guys who like sports are really different!”
Sakuragi froze.
He hated basketball.
…Didn’t he?
No—he hated that basketball player. Not the sport itself.
His brows furrowed as he wrestled with the thought.
“I guess…” he said slowly, uncertain even to himself, “I like basketball. I’m just not a fanatic about it… I think?”
Haruko smiled wider.
“That’s okay, Sakuragi-kun! Not all guys who look like athletes actually like sports.” She clasped her hands together. “But I hope I’ll see you on the basketball team someday. I think you have a lot of potential to become a great player!”
Sakuragi scoffed internally.
We’ll see about that.
____________
“Oi, Sakuragi! Who was that girl you were talking to earlier?”
The voice belonged to Mito Yohei, who had fallen into step beside him as their group wandered through the school hallway. The afternoon crowd buzzed around them, first-years still getting lost, upperclassmen weaving through with practiced ease.
“Yeah, I saw her too—no, all of us saw her!” Takamiya added with a wide grin. “Looks like your high school life might actually have some hope this time!”
The others laughed.
Everyone except Sakuragi.
“You’ve taken your first step toward setting a new record,” Noma chimed in thoughtfully.
“…Of being rejected,” Ookusu finished, still clutching his forehead where a noticeable lump had formed from earlier.
Sakuragi’s eye twitched.
“I don’t like Haruko!” he snapped. “Not in that way, at least!”
“Eh?” Mito raised an eyebrow. “So her name’s Haruko.” He nodded to himself. “Well, she’s exactly your type, isn’t she? Kind-hearted, cute, and a beta.”
It wasn’t a baseless observation. Most of the girls who had rejected Sakuragi in the past fit that description perfectly. Cute. Gentle. The kind who smiled apologetically before crushing his heart.
“Not anymore,” Sakuragi muttered.
They all looked at him.
“I mean—yeah, she is my type,” he corrected hastily, scowling. “But I don’t feel that way anymore. I think it’s better if we just stay friends. Girls like her wouldn’t be interested in someone like me.”
The word omega lingered unspoken between them. Mito understood anyway. They kept walking.
None of them noticed when they crossed into the third-year hallway—until the air subtly changed. Louder voices. Confident laughter. A different kind of presence.
“Eh, the first-years this year are mostly arrogant fools,” someone scoffed.
Sakuragi’s group passed by without responding, but the comment didn’t go unnoticed.
“The redhead over there,” another voice called out. “You—are you a first-year?”
“Huh?” Sakuragi turned. “My name is Hanami—”
Pain exploded in his gut.
The breath was knocked clean out of him as a knee slammed into his stomach. Sakuragi doubled over with a strangled cough.
“Come to the rooftop after school,” the third-year said coolly, straightening. “And don’t even think about running.”
“Yeah!” the other added—a sharp-faced guy with a monkey-like grin. “We’ll be waiting.”
They walked away as if nothing had happened.
Mito was at Sakuragi’s side instantly, Takamiya and the others forming a barrier around him.
“I almost suffocated!” Sakuragi wheezed angrily, already trying to lunge forward.
“Stop!” Mito hissed, gripping his arm tightly. “Ignore them.”
Sakuragi snarled, muscles trembling with restrained fury.
“We don’t want trouble on our first day,” Mito continued quietly, leaning in. “And remember Wakou Junior High. If you lose control… your secret could be exposed.”
That did it.
As much as they wanted to tear those alphas apart, Sakuragi’s safety came first. Always. They’d seen what happened when his emotions spiraled out of control—how quickly everything could fall apart.
It was pure luck that only a handful of people had witnessed Sakuragi’s presentation at Wakou. Yoko. Her friends. A few passersby. Mito had made sure of one thing afterward: none of them would ever speak about it again.
Because if the wrong people found out—
If the authorities ever learned the truth—
It wouldn’t end well.
An omega without a guardian.
Society loved to pretend omegas were precious. Fragile. Something to be protected at all costs. Especially male omegas—rare enough to be treated like myths unless already mated or hidden away behind layers of trust and bloodline approval.
Mito had read about it once. How male omegas were never seen in public. How they were guarded, secluded, controlled “for their own safety.”
Back then, it had sounded ridiculous.
Now, it was terrifying.
If the government found out Sakuragi was a male omega—a minor, an orphan—they would take him away without hesitation. Send him to an “orphanage” that functioned more like a prison. Assign him a family. Or worse, begin the process of finding him a mate.
Stripping him of his freedom under the guise of protection.
Mito clenched his fists.
As long as he was alive, that would never happen.
No one was going to cage Hanamichi Sakuragi.
“SAKURAGI-KUN!”
Mito and Noma immediately let go of him.
The familiar feminine voice cut through the tension like a bell, and before anyone could react, Sakuragi was suddenly free—
—and promptly headbutted them both.
Thunk. Thunk.
“Grrrr…!” Sakuragi snarled, fists clenched. “Don’t you two ever stop me again when I’m trying to deliver justice!”
Mito groaned, rubbing his forehead. Noma swayed slightly, seeing stars.
Standing a few steps away was the girl from earlier—the one who had asked him if he liked basketball.
Akagi Haruko.
Completely oblivious to the chaos she’d just interrupted, she stepped closer, tilting her head in confusion.
“What are you doing here?” she asked innocently. “Do you also know some third-year senpai?”
Sakuragi didn’t answer at first. His blood was still boiling, adrenaline buzzing in his ears. It took him a moment to realize she was standing directly in front of him.
“Oh—!” He stiffened, then quickly shook his head. “N-no, not really.”
Haruko smiled, seemingly satisfied.
“My onii-san is a third-year student,” she explained cheerfully. “Class 6. I came to give him his bento.” She hesitated, fingers tightening around the cloth-wrapped box in her hands. “But… I always get a little nervous walking through the third-year hallway by myself.”
Sakuragi’s brain stalled.
Words failed him—an unfamiliar, uncomfortable silence settling in his chest.
“Then—!” he blurted out suddenly. “Do you want me to go with you? I mean, to give the bento to your onii-san!”
Haruko blinked.
Then her cheeks flushed pink.
“I—I don’t think that’s a good idea!” she laughed nervously. “That would just embarrass both of us.” She waved her hands quickly. “It’s better if we just hurry back to the first-year hallway!”
Before Sakuragi could process what was happening—
She grabbed his hand.
Her fingers were warm.
“Come on!” she said, already pulling him along.
And just like that, they were running—leaving the third-year hallway behind, the tension dissolving into the rush of movement, Haruko’s laughter echoing faintly as they disappeared around the corner.
Sakuragi barely noticed.
All he could think about was the unfamiliar weight of someone holding his hand—and how, for the first time that day, his chest didn’t feel quite so cold.
____
As soon as they reached the first-year hallway, they came to an abrupt stop.
Sakuragi’s hand twitched the moment Haruko let go.
He stared at his fingers for half a second longer than necessary, flexing them slowly. Her hands had been warm—soft in a way he wasn’t used to. Nothing like his own, rough with calluses, scarred from fights and scraped knuckles and a life spent crashing headfirst into things.
“Sakuragi-kun,” Haruko said suddenly, looking up at him. “Are you free right now?”
His eyes widened just a fraction.
No. No, no, no.
This was bad. Very bad.
He shouldn’t have a crush on her. He couldn’t afford to. Girls like her were exactly the kind who rejected him—and Sakuragi knew, deep down, that he wouldn’t take it well. Not after Wakou Junior High. Not after everything that happened.
His chest tightened.
“Would you like to come to the basketball court and watch?” Haruko continued, smiling hopefully. “If you already have something to do, that’s okay!”
No. No, no, no.
“NO—! I mean—no, no! I’m totally free!” Sakuragi blurted out far too quickly. “Completely free! Nothing to do at all!”
The realization hit him immediately.
I screwed up.
Behind him, Mito and the others exchanged knowing looks before quietly backing away. One by one, they waved exaggerated goodbyes, leaving Sakuragi standing alone in the hallway with Haruko.
“Good luck!” Yohei mouthed.
Sakuragi resisted the overwhelming urge to reach into his pocket and down another suppressant. He could practically feel phantom panic rising under his skin, every instinct screaming at him to make sure there wasn’t even the faintest trace of omega scent clinging to him.
Calm down, he told himself. You’re fine. You’re fine.
“Come on!” Haruko said brightly.
Before he could brace himself, she took his hand again.
“Let’s go!”
Sakuragi stiffened as she pulled him along, heart pounding so loudly he was sure she could hear it. Her grip was light but confident, as if she’d already decided this was perfectly natural.
He let himself be dragged forward anyway.