Chapter Text
I.
Nirei Akihiko is a beta.
In a world of secondary genders, his is limited to someone in the middle tier. He lacks the bulging muscles and intimidating appearance typical of an alpha, but he’s not in a state of complete vulnerability and submission compared to omegas either. Plus, he has some notable attributes of his own! He may not be a know-it-all, but he has enough knowledge to hold his own in an environment dominated by alphas—though that by no means excludes betas.
As long as he keeps a low profile, stays away from territorial and dangerous alphas, and looks up to those who inspired him to walk into the lion’s den, his experience at Fūrin High School should go smoothly.
Or so he’d like to think.
It turns out that being a beta doesn’t grant you any biological advantage beyond being able to turn a blind eye—or should that be a “blind nose”?—to pheromones, those highly volatile substances that can manipulate others simply by being present in the air. Nirei, being a beta, has never been able to produce or perceive such scents, but his ignorance doesn’t make him unaware of the consequences they can cause if misused. They can subdue a rival, of course, but they can also provoke one and cause everything to escalate into a more serious matter than it should have been in the first place.
Nirei Akihiko has never smelled alpha pheromones, but he’s smart enough to know that the person next to him must be releasing at least some of them.
“What are you doing?”
Pheromones can simplify many human interactions—Nirei doesn’t deny that—but watching Sakura do what he truly hopes he isn’t doing is already making him feel nauseous.
“Warming up.”
The worst part is that he answers without the slightest hint of concern or hesitation. Sakura Haruka—the very same guy who told him he wasn’t pathetic and to whom he promised he’d guide him to the top—is preparing for a fight that hasn’t even started yet. Sakura, whom he’s absolutely certain is an alpha—though he can’t tell if he’s dominant or not. A strange alpha who’s arrived from a strange city, exuding strange pheromones in a territory that isn’t his.
Yeah, yeah, tell Nirei that alphas are, by nature, territorial—but aren’t they still supposed to be thinking beings?
The words of a beta with no notable merits like him may mean absolutely nothing, but in a civilized society where secondary gender should be, precisely, a secondary matter, behaving like a wild animal that needs to be tamed does anything but put his mind at ease.
And no matter how much he tells him that, as an outsider, his actions—and the intentions imbued in his pheromones—could be misinterpreted, turning him into an enemy of all of Bofūrin in a single day, Sakura…
“I came here to fight my way to the top, you know?”
…He simply ignored him before sliding open the door without a single hint of hesitation in his voice.
From the moment Sakura set foot in the vicinity of the high school, every particle of alpha in the air penetrated deeply into his olfactory receptors. Sweat, ozone, and metal—sharp, acrid notes—warning the daring of the nature of Fūrin and its members. For an alpha like Sakura, what might seem like an attempt at intimidation is interpreted as a call to battle, to give in to animal instinct and simply let himself be carried away by the need to prove who dominates and who submits.
His sharp smile, revealing his fangs, betrays his anticipation as he steps into Room 1-1. Dozens of gazes immediately settle on his shoulders, each and every one scrutinizing him with suspicion. For Sakura, an alpha accustomed to rejection and contempt, none of this particularly intimidates him. He recognizes a few sharper, more youthful scents among the crowd of students, but they barely make up a third of the class. The rest, on the other hand, are as unremarkable as unscented soap or dry earth. Betas, his instinct tells him before he even has a chance to think it through.
He definitely picks up on some interesting scents—one slightly citrusy and another more like nutmeg. Beyond that, nothing stands out in particular. Still, those two scents are enough to ignite a spark of conflict within him, with anxiety and the urge to fight creeping up from his torso until it reaches his knuckles.
“Not bad,” he muttered to himself. Meanwhile, Nirei, behind him, looked on the verge of fainting from the intimidating scene. He doesn’t blame him; even as a beta, it’s clear that most of these people won’t look favorably upon them until they declare their intentions.
That said, the boy can hide and whine all he wants, but he doesn’t think it’ll do much good, given that his purpose for being here is to become a “hero” like those of Fūrin.
Sakura? His only intention is to fi—
“Hey.”
Sweet. Subtle, like the touch of a petal; bitter, like the cocoa in freshly made chocolate. Distinctive and unique, a caress—or perhaps just a brush—that paralyzes his body the moment his senses fall into the trap. In that moment, any thought, intention, or movement that had dominated his mind is completely cast aside upon catching a single, unmistakable scent: omega.
“You must be Sakura-kun.”
It’s light, barely perceptible—a subtle hint, like the ones offered by perfume salespeople handing out free samples everywhere. But it’s also enough. Enough to alarm the alpha within Sakura Haruka, enough for those soft, woody, dry, and velvety notes to keep him in a trance while his delicate, graceful, and utterly mesmerizing figure fills his vision.
It’s not just a matter of scent, though that is the most important part. This guy—who, just by saying his name, has already made it clear he intends to toy with Sakura—has revealed himself to him—and the whole damn building—as an omega.
Ignoring the stupid earring that seems to dance like a wind chime, the soft curve of those slightly pink lips and his piercing garnet gaze do not captivate, but rather alert the alpha within Sakura, because it makes absolutely no sense that an omega, of all things, would have wandered into a place like this.
The worst part is that he doesn’t even intend to underestimate him. No, because even if he tried to, this omega has shown him with two sentences and three steps that his control over his pheromones goes beyond surprising—it’s downright terrifying.
For a millisecond, Sakura looked away. No, don’t even think for a moment that he was intimidated—never. But having the one whom his world considers “easy prey” right in front of him—all while he’s in the lion’s den—is unsettling. And what’s unsettling is terrifying.
It’s part of his instinct, he tried to tell himself. Faced with a prey’s unusual behavior, the predator doesn’t give in to temptation but instead doubts how easily the prey is exposing itself.
So he looks away. He tries to find surprise, restrained instinct, discomfort—anything—in the rest of the room. In particular, he observes those he’s identified as alphas, but they all keep their eyes fixed on Sakura, as if the sweet scent of an omega were less interesting than yet another alpha in a school teeming with them.
This leads Sakura to a second conclusion: they already knew. This omega had previously exposed himself to other alphas whose control over biological and sexual impulses might be little more than that of a child trying not to steal candy from another. For God’s sake, they’re barely any different from criminals! They’re bullies, social misfits who live for conflict—an arena of mutual slaughter where dialogue only takes place through a straight punch to the face.
Or so he thought—Sakura Haruka genuinely believed that was Fūrin’s style.
But the thing is, no one reacts. Neither alphas nor betas—they all remain in absolute silence, waiting for Sakura to make a misstep, ready to sink their fangs into him and raise their fists against him.
Tough luck, dumbasses. He thought to himself as he finally took his stance, preparing for the impending conflict.
“So what if I am?” snapped the young man with heterochromatic eyes, holding his fists out in front of him. “Who the hell are you?”
Sakura doesn’t notice, but Nirei, right behind him, seems to recognize the young man standing before them. However, before he could even say a word about the identity of this bold omega, he closed the distance between them even further, making his presence and identity all the more pronounced.
Red camellia and hanamuo. Both elegant, intense, earthy, and bitter flowers. Nothing truly sweet like cotton candy or popcorn, but rather a mature, hypnotic scent.
His identity—more than his name or past—hits him like New Year’s fireworks.
A Dominant Omega.
An omega fully aware of his strengths, leaning perhaps a little too far to one side, keeping his hands behind his back, appearing vulnerable, and revealing just a centimeter of skin right below his collarbone. Very, very close to his gland.
The irritation rising up Sakura’s neck is accompanied by an intense vermilion flush on the tips of his ears and nose.
Experienced in street fighting, but not so much in interactions with the opposite sex and gender, Sakura Haruka, the alpha, can do nothing but stifle a furious exclamation upon seeing the playful smile on the omega’s face in front of him.
“What a surprise,” the young man with wine-red hair said as he licked his teeth. “Rumor had it you were a wild beast, but it seems we have quite the gentleman here.”
I’ll kill 'im, he thought, his expression contorted. He says shit like that again, and I swear I’ll kill 'im.
“Well… They also say that manners make the man.” Straightening his posture and stepping back just a little from Sakura, the omega tilted his head, glancing over the alpha’s shoulder. “Although I get the impression you know who I am, young one?”
His words are melodious, but not in a cloying way. Spoken with pinpoint precision, stimulating every fiber of the secondary gender in everyone present with subtle gestures. A rose with thorns—or perhaps something far worse.
Emerging from his hiding spot behind Sakura, Nirei finally made his appearance. With a gleam in his eye and his little notebook in hand, he exclaimed, “That eye patch and a tasseled earring… There’s no doubt about it!”
“I’m Leonardo DiCaprio.”
Sakura Haruka is experienced in street fighting, but that strength pales in comparison to his complete lack of understanding of social etiquette. So, naturally, when he heard the foreign name, his first reaction wasn’t “he’s screwing with me” but rather—
“You're from overseas?!”
He spoke with a bit more enthusiasm than he should have, which ended up earning him a sharp retort that dashed any hope of putting his meager—if nonexistent—English to use.
“Nope, I’m Japanese.”
If Sakura’s teeth ground together upon hearing the confession of his lie, no one seemed to notice.
“Um… You must be Suo-san?”
“Yep, that’s what everyone calls me around here.” After a moment’s pause, the playful omega narrowed his eye, gauging even the tiniest reaction from Sakura. “By the way, this eye patch seals an ancient Chinese spirit in my right eye.”
Baffled by the young man’s seemingly fantastical answers, Nirei hesitated before asking. “Wasn’t that because of an accident in the past…?”
Without a shred of embarrassment, Suo nodded again. “Yep, that’s what everyone says,” he said with a smile lighting up his face.
A smile that, rather than captivating him, only served to irritate him and drag him toward the point of no return.
“What the hell? He's all talk—”
He doesn’t care. He couldn’t care less if his first fight within Fūrin isn’t against the most powerful and strongest alpha he’s ever come face-to-face with; everything in his body is screaming at him to shut that shameless omega's fucking mouth.
But Nirei, a beta oblivious to the effect of this omega’s sweet and spicy pheromones, tries to hold him back, saying things that don’t interest him in the least—but which, in reality, would give him a surprising perspective on the omega who dared to attend a high school for alphas.
As if he’d had enough of his immature facade, the atmosphere shifts. A little denser, but not quite oppressive. Suo, the omega, once again breaks the unspoken rules of personal space, lifting his chin as he approaches him with silent steps.
“That’s enough about me.”
His voice drops a few notes, without reaching the deep tone of an alpha, but without losing that deadly softness that characterizes an omega who knows how to act so that the result is precise and exactly to his liking.
Every cell in Sakura’s body warns him of the danger, but at the same time demands that he put this… brat in his place and prove to him that everything he does—especially in front of him—is nothing but foolishness. It’s like tempting the beast, playing with fire, being an idiot who thinks that throwing a glass on the floor won’t shatter it.
“Now about you, Sakura-kun.”
It amuses him. Sakura is dead sure this idiot gets a kick out of every time he says his name, tossing that damn honorific around like it's a trinket to play with. A use of his charming, hypnotic voice—but one that, deep down, Sakura recognizes as manipulative, provocative, and extremely dangerous.
And as he speaks, he approaches him. One, two steps, closing the distance while sizing him up with a single eye. The tassels on his earrings ring melodiously, and his footsteps are as light as feathers. The skin on his neck—smooth and milky—contrasts with the deep hue of his wine-colored hair.
Before his eyes, he seems pensive. No, not hesitant—pensive, like someone assessing a person, reading them in a matter of seconds, and deciding on the best method to make the other surrender their throat as if it were an offering.
As if this omega were expecting him—an alpha—to fall at his feet with little more than his presence.
However, Sakura isn’t an idiot. He may be socially awkward, yes, but he’d never let himself be tempted by something so obvious.
Suo, instead of backing down due to the lack of reaction, seems to be spurred on. He stares at him, openly defying him despite being an omega, and raises his hand in the air just a few centimeters from Sakura’s shoulder.
If he wants a fight… The corner of his mouth curled up, revealing his fangs. He’ll get one.
His body hair stands on end, his pupils dilate, his muscles tense, and his pulse quickens. Each and every one of these physiological reactions is in preparation for the impending conflict. However, Sakura isn’t one to start fights without provocation, and while smashing an omega’s face in has never been his style, the moment that asshole touches him—
“I heard about it—it was amazing!”
“...?!?”
The atmosphere changed completely. Not just the floral, tentative presence, but much of the oppressive atmosphere stemming from the hormonal tension. There were still traces of ozone and metal—typical of a group of alphas and betas accustomed to fighting—but much of the threat itself dissipated the instant Suo, without a shred of embarrassment, patted him on the back again and again, as if he were an adult congratulating a child.
Although they were still wary, the cheerfulness in Suo’s words caught the attention of many, who were curious to know who the alpha was that he was touching so confidently.
“You know about the encounter with the spaltips on Main Street yesterday, right?” he explained cheerfully. “Hiiragi-san and a few others went, but the one who was on the scene before them and was protecting the town was…”
Sakura could swear that the omega glanced at him out of the corner of his eye before squeezing his shoulder with all the confidence in the world.
“Sakura-kun!”
To Sakura Haruka’s mind, it’s ridiculous. To the alpha inside him, it’s a walking contradiction. His ears pick up absolutely nothing from his surroundings, as if they’d been submerged in water, and he’d decided it was far more interesting to zone out than to pay attention to all these alphas and betas interested in his “exploits.” Of course, this whole reaction has a source: the shameless, confident touch of that smiling, talkative omega—cunning to the extreme and mysterious like no other. His scent may have faded to barely a millionth of a fraction, but the trace, the initial impression he left on Sakura, was so strong that Sakura can’t help but feel aggrieved.
Who the hell does he think he is? Sakura couldn’t care less if the strongest person in the entire high school turns out to be a beta—or, even less likely, an omega. In the end, secondary gender only offers a few advantages, but combat skill goes beyond genetics and is based largely on the very experience of giving and receiving. So even if this omega happened to be one of the strongest in his class, it would be a surprise—but nothing that he, Sakura Haruka, couldn’t handle.
Or at least that would be his reasoning if it weren't for every cell in his body urging him to act in a way his logical mind tells him is puré stupidity.
While the alpha tells him he must discipline that omega and dissuade him from his provocative—and, to a large extent, self-endangering—behavior, Sakura Haruka has an instinctive certainty that not even he could easily lay a hand on him. Not because the alpha can’t, but because the omega wouldn’t let him.
And living with that contradiction while this very omega keeps making brazen physical contact over and over again doesn’t do his entire sensory system any favors.
It’s such an overwhelming sensory overload that, if he doesn’t keep himself under control, he could very well end up collapsing on the floor.
“But why did you come to a place like this from out of town?”
So he cares little or nothing about the consequences of his answers when that hand remains on his shoulder.
“I came here to reach the top.”
Then, silence falls.
The omega beside him seems to be holding back a mocking smile, but maintains the elegant posture characteristic of his secondary gender.
However, before he can respond to the omega’s brazen attitude, a table streaks across his peripheral vision at high speed, nearly hitting him—and the omega—in the process.
If he feels irritated by such an act of violence against what is commonly referred to in their society as “prey,” he simply chooses to ignore it.
He doesn’t need to search for the source of the attack, since his sense of smell is suddenly overwhelmed by the dense, suffocating scent of smoke and hot ash.
Recognizing the threat, Sakura couldn’t help but smile.
“I like mad dogs, you know?”
And as if it were a campfire on the verge of turning into a wildfire, the out-of-control alpha lashed out in rage right where Sakura had been standing a second earlier.
As expected, the omega’s contact was abruptly broken; he was now watching from a distance alongside a terrified beta whom he was holding by the collar of his shirt like a puppy.
Seeing the omega’s expression and impeccable posture, Sakura couldn’t help but let out a growl of annoyance. Does he have no fucking sense of danger at all?
At this point, it doesn’t matter anymore. Any attention he might have given that irritating omega vanishes when he can finally start making history inside this doghouse.
“This is exactly what I expected from Fūrin High.”
Sakura’s smile twisted into a mix of provocation and excitement that spread to the tips of his fingers.
Behind him, the faint scent of sandalwood distracted him for a split second.
Sakura growled, and the omega simply covered his lips mischievously.
The alpha in front of him, furious, radiated even more of his menacing presence.
Sakura would teach that omega a lesson, but first…
“That’s better.”
…He had to tame this rabid wolf.