“You don’t know what you’re asking for.” Hayashi-senpai’s voice was strict, his hand tightening on the door handle.

“I do,” Yahiko insisted, forcing the lump in his throat down. His eyes glistened, though he tried to hold the tears back. “I know how you treat omegas. I’ve seen it – today, before. That’s why I’m asking you. I won’t ever ask for anything else. Never. If you agree, I’ll owe you nothing, and if you don’t… then I’ll do whatever you want. Anything. It doesn’t matter.”

Ayato’s jaw tightened, but his answer was the same. “It doesn’t matter.” His hand wrapped gently but firmly around Yahiko’s arm, moving him away from the door.

“Please!” Yahiko burst out, catching his shoulder now. “Just three years! That’s all I need. Until graduation. Then I’ll disappear. You’ll never see me again – I’ll vanish, move away, whatever it takes. Please…” His head lowered, the last words muffled against his own breath. “…I’ll do anything.”

Ayato’s reply came quiet but unwavering. “Takahaya-kun. If you have problems at school, there’s help for that. The student council, the teachers, the principal – they’ll listen. That’s what the policy is for.” He exhaled slowly. “But my working day is over. So now, I’ll kindly ask you to leave the nurse’s office.”

He stepped into the corridor, keys in hand, waiting for the boy to move. But Yahiko stood frozen, his grip white-knuckled on the door handle.

“Hayashi-senpai…” His voice cracked on the words.

Ayato frowned, then moved. Instead of reaching for the key, he placed his hands on Yahiko’s shoulders and guided him firmly but carefully aside. One practiced, unhesitating motion – and the boy was out in the corridor, staring as the key turned in the lock.

“Hayashi-senpai…” It was a whisper, his last thread of hope.

But Ayato didn’t look back. He simply walked away, the sound of his footsteps fading into silence, leaving Yahiko alone in the empty hall.

***

Yes, it was the most foolish thing he had ever done. For two whole weeks Yahiko couldn’t forgive himself for blurting out those words, for standing there like some desperate fool. Thankfully, summer spared him from facing Senpai at school – no awkward glances, no chance to see that same unreadable face again.

He had known from the start that the plan was shaky, that rejection was more likely than not. Still, somewhere in his mind, he had counted on Ayato’s kindness – the quiet patience he always showed at work. Yahiko had almost managed to forget the obvious: the nurse was an alpha, and an unshakable one at that. Resistant to pheromones, unmoved by any trace of omega charm. Without that quality, he wouldn’t even be allowed in this job.

“Takahaya-kun, come here a moment, please,” the shop owner’s voice cut clean through his thoughts.

“Yeah, sure.” Yahiko left the cash desk and slipped into the storage room behind the counter.

“We got a new batch last night,” Sumimoto-san said, already pulling open one of the boxes. “Can you help me sort these?”

“Yes.” Yahiko nodded quickly and crouched by the crate, pulling out the goods one by one.

“Did you get home safe yesterday?”

“Yes, Sumimoto-san, thanks.” Yahiko offered a small smile.

“And your grandmother? Still keeping well?”

“She’s fine. Honestly, she seems even more energetic than last year.” Yahiko chuckled as he stacked supplies.

“Oh, these here are almost gone,” Sumimoto-san noted, pointing at the items in the boy’s hands. “Could you restock the shelves with them?”

“Of course.” Yahiko hefted the box of instant noodles and headed out toward the shop floor.

It was a small neighborhood shop on a quiet street. Around it stood other little stores and family-run restaurants, the kind of place where most people knew each other. Since it was a residential area, trouble was rare and gangs hardly ever showed up.

The shop itself had four short aisles, crammed with grab-and-go food, bottled drinks, and all those everyday things you might need while passing by. Yahiko had gotten the job thanks to his grandmother’s friend – the owner’s mother. That connection made it possible for him to balance working there with his studies.

“Hey, little sister, you dropped something,” a mocking voice called out. Yahiko’s shoulders tensed. He turned and saw two boys from his class – part of Denji’s usual crowd, only without Denji this time. They were grinning at him from the aisle, holding bags of snacks like it was just another game.

He pressed his lips together, forced himself to finish stacking the last packs of noodles, then bent down to pick up the bag they had just flicked onto the floor.

“Ha, looks about right,” one of them snickered. “We just show up, and you’re already on your knees.”

Yahiko’s head snapped up, his eyes burning. “What’s wrong with you? Why do you keep coming here? Why should I have to put up with you even in this place?”

The taller boy leaned closer, his smirk sharp. “Oh? Planning to complain to someone? Oh, wait. I forgot—you don’t have anyone to complain to.”

The words hit like a slap. Yahiko’s breath caught, but before he could respond, the boy shoved a bag of chips against his chest and stepped back. Both of them threw him a last mocking glance, then wandered off toward the exit.

The bell at the cash desk chimed. Yahiko blinked, clutching the crumpled bag before hastily putting it back on the shelf. His hands were trembling, but when the bell rang again, he quickly wiped his eyes and hurried to the counter.

“I’m coming!” His voice cracked slightly as he slid behind the register, forcing a polite smile. “Do you need a bag?”

It wasn’t the first time they had shown up. The whole thing started about a month ago, when Denji had once dropped by with his group of friends. After that, Denji never returned, but two of his classmates seemed to take a liking to the place – or rather, to bother Yahiko.

At first it was just snide comments and jokes whenever no one else was around. Then came little tricks: asking him to fetch things from the back that didn’t exist, making him reheat food only to complain it was too hot, or “accidentally” knocking a pack off the shelf. Nothing serious enough to count as trouble for the store, but always just enough to get under his skin.

Sumimoto-san didn’t connect it to Yahiko personally. To him, they were just a couple of rowdy boys who needed a scolding now and then. There were cameras at the counter and by the entrances, but not in the aisles, so most of their antics slipped by unnoticed. And since they never broke anything, the owner had little reason to treat them as more than ordinary customers with bad manners.

Yahiko, however, couldn’t shake the feeling that if it continued, their jokes would soon grow more pointed, more personal. He valued this job too much to risk losing it, so he swallowed his frustration and tried to keep out of trouble – even when every visit left a bitter aftertaste.