“You won’t dare,” Yahiko hissed, eyes flashing. “The teachers are here. Hayashi-senpai—”

“They won’t know,” Denji cut in smoothly, lips brushing his ear. “Open air, trees, scents carried away in the wind. And that alpha? He’s probably sitting among omegas right now, their perfumes drowning everything else out.”

Yahiko’s chest tightened. He forced himself to look at Shin – his friend’s half-shut eyes, the faint, broken sound escaping his lips. The boy holding him smirked, letting his hands slide lower.

“Maybe we should speed things up,” he said lazily, fingers brushing fabric.

“Don’t touch him!” Yahiko strained against Denji’s grip, panic ripping through his voice. “Don’t you dare—STOP!”

Denji only pulled him tighter, back pressed to his chest. “Shhh. You don’t want him hurt, right? You know what to do. Give me what I want.” His lips hovered against Yahiko’s neck, and his eyes burned with a predatory gleam. “Just let me bite you.”

Yahiko shook his head violently, shoulders hunched to shield his skin. Tears pressed hot at the corners of his eyes as Shin gave a weak gasp, the edge of his shirt lifted by rough fingers.

“Don’t…” Yahiko whispered, trembling. Slowly, against his will, his shoulders sank, baring the curve of his neck.

“That’s it,” Denji purred, satisfaction thick in his voice. “Good boy.”

And just as Denji’s grin spread wider, a heavy hand clamped down on his shoulder from behind.

“What exactly are you doing here?” Hayashi-senpai’s voice sliced through the clearing like a blade.

The two boys holding Shin jolted and nearly dropped him. Even Denji’s eyes lost their gleam as he slowly lifted his head.

“You two.” Ayato’s gaze pinned the pair. “You have one minute to come up with a decent explanation.”

His hand came down on Denji’s shoulder, pulling him just enough away from Yahiko. “And you—were you planning to mark an omega on a school trip?”

The words landed heavy. The two boys turned pale – they knew this had gone too far.

Denji hissed, wrenching against Ayato’s grip. “I wasn’t doing anything. Don’t twist it.”

One of the boys hurried to prop Shin up. “H-he just collapsed out of nowhere, that’s all.”

“Yeah, we—we were helping him, that’s it,” the other added quickly.

Ayato’s eyes narrowed, reading the lie but not voicing it. “Then go. Explain it to Ishikawa-sensei yourselves.”

The two muttered apologies and hurried off with Shin, vanishing toward the house.

Denji turned to follow, but Ayato stopped him with a firm hand on his shoulder. “As for you—don’t ever think of trying that again. Marking is forbidden at school. That includes trips.”

Denji yanked his shoulder free, his mouth twisting, but no words came. He turned sharply and walked away, silent.

Yahiko sat hunched on the fallen log, arms locked around his shoulders, trembling – not from Denji, not anymore, but with something deeper than fear of Denji. Just one moment more and he might have become the very thing he dreaded most.

Ayato sat down beside him without a word. His hands clasped loosely in front of him, eyes fixed on the fading sky. Minutes slipped past, broken only by Yahiko’s unsteady breathing.

The silence stretched, long and heavy, until Ayato finally spoke. “I didn’t think it would come to this.”

Yahiko gave a hollow little laugh. “Welcome to high school. This is what it’s like.”

Ayato’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. The weight of the boy’s words hung between them, raw and bitter.

Finally, he muttered, “This needs to be reported.”

“No.” Yahiko’s reply was sharp, immediate. Then, softer, after a pause: “They already know. And they won’t take my side. Who’s going to defend an omega who’s blamed for making his own problems?”

Ayato glanced at him then, truly glanced, the words striking deeper than he expected. For the first time, he had no ready answer.

Ayato stayed quiet for a while before slipping his phone from his pocket. He lifted it slightly, as if checking the signal.

“Strange. No bars. Do you?”

“I… don’t know.” Yahiko sniffed, fumbling his phone out. “Yes, I think so.”

He gave it a lazy wave, about to drop it onto his lap. Ayato leaned closer and, before Yahiko could react, touched the two devices together. A soft chime sounded, and a notification lit up Yahiko’s screen.

“What’s this?” Yahiko blinked, lifting his phone. New contact request. Accept / Decline.

“Text me when you’re ready,” Ayato said evenly, rising from the log. “I’ll take care of it.” He brushed the dust from his hands. “And… spend some time with your grandmother after this trip. Rest. Think things over.”

Yahiko looked down at his phone, his pulse hammering. “I… I got it.”

By the time he spoke, Ayato was already heading toward the house. His own phone vibrated softly in his pocket – Yahiko had accepted the request.

Laughter drifted from the campfire where the other students played their games, voices bright under the stars. But inside the house, in the wide common room, the atmosphere was heavier: Shin pale and quiet, Denji scowling, the two boys subdued, and Ishikawa-sensei presiding with a look that promised questions.

“Hayashi-san, thank goodness you’re here,” Ishikawa-sensei hurried to him. “Something’s happened to Hasegawa-kun. Can you take a look?”

“Of course.” Ayato knelt by Shin without hesitation.

Behind them, the two boys stumbled over each other’s words.

“We were just messing around—”

“Didn’t even notice we let too much out—”

“We kept our distance on purpose—”

“And with the forest right there, we thought the scents would mix—”

Ayato didn’t look up. His voice was quiet but final. “That’s enough.”

The boys bowed their heads at once. “Sorry! It won’t happen again, we swear.”

Denji lingered at the back, arms crossed, but even he muttered a stiff, “Sorry.”

At last Ayato rose. “He’ll be fine. A good night’s rest and he’ll wake up fresh.”

Ishikawa-sensei exhaled, then faced the boys. “Good. Then you three—back to the others.”

They obeyed quickly, leaving only the soft crackle of the fire outside and the weight of the room within.

When Shin was finally settled on the futon and his breathing steadied, Ayato glanced at Ishikawa. “We need to talk.”

Their voices dropped to low murmurs, fading into the background as laughter still carried from the fire outside. Slowly, even that laughter faded, replaced by silence.

In the darkness, Yahiko lay beside his friend, fingers lightly brushing Shin’s hand. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “You won’t have to get dragged into my mess again.”

The rest of the night passed without incident. By morning, Shin was back on his feet, pale but smiling, and the group moved on as if nothing had happened. The return to the hot springs felt almost ordinary, and soon the bus was carrying them all back home.

For the others, the trip ended there. For Yahiko, it lingered. On the way back he caught himself reaching for his phone more than once, only to stop short. He told himself he’d text Hayashi-senpai later – once he was ready. But when he was finally home, with the screen glowing in his hand, his thumb hovering over the contact request, something inside him froze. He turned the phone off and put it away.

Days passed, but the thought never left him. In the shop, on his way to it, lying awake at night – he imagined how it would be, read forum posts, replayed everything in his head until it blurred together.

Ayato, on the other hand, vanished into work. Files piled high on his desk—student charts, medical cards, preparations for the fall semester. Meetings, briefings, planning for the Obon festival. His days were filled from morning until night.

Life pressed forward, but beneath it, the unspoken decision between them waited, patient and heavy, like a shadow that refused to lift.