“Already?” Yahiko rose quickly. Ayato’s eyes flicked past him toward a group of school-age kids entering the festival grounds.

“Looks like people you know,” he said quietly. Then, meeting Yahiko’s eyes, “It’s time to choose.”

He looked down at Yahiko, quiet but direct. The meaning was clear.

For a second Yahiko just looked at the group, then back at Ayato. His heart kicked hard. “…Let’s go,” he said at last.

They left the bench behind, the untouched takoyaki cooling under the lantern glow, and walked toward the park exit where cars were waiting.

Ayato raised a hand and a taxi pulled in smoothly. They slid into the back seat.

The city lights streamed past as the car climbed toward the hills. Yahiko stared out the window, watching the blur of lanterns turn into quiet streets. He had read so many late-night forum posts where other omega boys described being marked as something exciting, almost romantic. But here, with the hum of the road beneath him, he felt only the gravity of what he was about to do.

Somewhere deep down he knew a mark wasn’t just a thrill; it was a bond that couldn’t be taken lightly. Still, the fear of drifting unclaimed – of being seen as a “wasted” omega – pressed harder than the fear itself.

The taxi slowed as the road leveled out into a brighter neighborhood where shops and late-night stalls glimmered under strings of lights.

“We’re here,” Ayato said, his voice as calm as ever.

They climbed higher and higher, the festival sounds fading into a soft blur behind them.

Each step up the narrow hill street seemed to press heavier on Yahiko’s chest.

By the time they reached a quiet lane at the very top, the laughter of the crowd was gone, replaced by the distant buzz of cicadas and the hum of streetlamps.

Ayato stopped before a low building with a long, shared balcony lined with doors. He took a key card from his pocket and walked along the railing. Yahiko followed, his pulse quickening with every step.

When Ayato paused at one of the doors and reached for the lock, Yahiko suddenly caught the handle, his knuckles pale.

Ayato turned slightly, his voice low but even. “I thought you were serious.”

Yahiko kept his eyes on the metal handle. “…Didn’t you turn me down at first? And then suddenly changed your mind?”

“Fair enough,” Ayato said after a beat, his gaze steady. “I have my own reasons.”

He let the card rest against the lock but didn’t move. “I once failed to protect the person who trusted me most. My husband. I couldn’t keep him safe when it mattered most. Maybe I can’t rewrite that night… but maybe I can stop someone else’s from happening.”

The quiet between them deepened, carrying the weight of what wasn’t said.

Yahiko finally lifted his eyes. “I just… I want to study, get into university, and have a normal life that isn’t ruined by a broken mark. That’s all.”

Ayato’s expression softened. “Then we understand each other. We’re both here to keep something safe that might otherwise be lost.”

He touched the card to the lock. A soft beep. “Shall we go in?”

Yahiko hesitated only a breath longer, then nodded. He stepped past the threshold into the clean, quiet room: two beds, a low table, a narrow wardrobe. The door clicked softly closed behind them.

Yahiko lingered near the doorway, then finally asked in a low voice, “How… how is this going to happen?”

“Come here, please,” Ayato said, his tone calm.

Yahiko approached. Ayato pulled one of the chairs in front of the bed and gestured toward the mattress. “Sit.”

Yahiko sat on the edge of the bed, the blanket soft under his hands. Ayato placed the chair close – close enough to reach, not so close to crowd – and sat facing him. He rested his palms lightly on Yahiko’s knees, steady and warm.

“Promise me two things,” Ayato said, eyes meeting his. “First – you never tell anyone about me unless it’s a real emergency. Second – you never put your life on the line. No choice, no fight is worth that.”

He paused, then went on without waiting. “And third—”

Yahiko frowned faintly. “But you said two things.”

Ayato continued as if he hadn’t heard. “After you finish school, you do this only with someone you truly love.”

Yahiko blinked, puzzled, but gave a small nod. “…Okay. I promise.”

“And you?” Ayato asked gently. “Anything you want to tell me?”

“I… don’t know. I didn’t plan anything,” Yahiko admitted. “This is just a small pact, nothing more. So… please don’t do anything strange.”

“Alright,” Ayato said with a calm nod.

He leaned forward, slow and sure, until his breath brushed Yahiko’s neck.

Yahiko thought he knew what would happen.

He had read enough late-night forum posts to picture every step: an alpha would bite the omega’s neck, the bond would settle, and that was it.

But no one had written how deep the bite might go, or how fiercely it might hurt.

As Ayato leaned in, the first fireworks exploded outside, bright flares of blue and crimson flashing across the walls.

At that exact moment sharp teeth pierced deep, and white-hot pain shot through Yahiko’s body.

“Mgh—!” He bit down on his lower lip, then clamped a hand over his mouth, tears pricking his eyes.

His entire body locked tight, every nerve drawn to that one point where the bite burned.

Ayato pulled back, but the pain didn’t.

Yahiko pressed his palm to his neck and felt the heat of fresh blood and the ridges of teeth-marks beneath his fingers.

A cold sweat broke over his skin and a shiver rattled through him.

“What… what is this? I… I feel—wrong…” he gasped, starting to push himself up.

Ayato caught him gently, easing him back onto the soft mattress.

“Nothing’s wrong,” he said in that calm, steady voice.

“I’m scared,” Yahiko whispered, gripping Ayato’s forearm. His eyes squeezed shut. “It burns… it hurts…”

“Yahiko,” Ayato murmured, voice low and even. “It’s okay. I’m here. Listen to my voice. That’s it… you’re safe.”

Another wave of trembling passed through Yahiko, and he gripped Ayato’s arm even harder.

“Good… that’s it,” Ayato said softly, running a slow hand through his hair. “Just breathe. Keep listening. Everything’s fine. I’m right here.”

The words blurred together, less meaning than melody – a warm lullaby that wrapped around him.

The room softened, the light faded, and Yahiko’s world dissolved into sleep, his breath catching now and then as Ayato stayed beside him, quietly stroking his hair.