St Mary's private school [Alltake]
12
Takemichi had been wondering.
Why he felt disgusted.
Living in his own body.
The body was wrong and he knows that.
Takemichi had known it from the first moment he woke in this nightmare—felt it in the way his limbs moved, in the strange lightness of his steps, in the subtle wrongness that clung to his skin like oil. But he'd pushed the feeling away, buried it under fear and pain and the desperate need to survive.
Now, lying in Mikey's arms with his scent gland torn out and his world shattered, he couldn't ignore it anymore.
This wasn't his body.
Oh, it looked like his body. Black hair, blue eyes, the same face he'd seen in mirrors his whole life. But beneath the surface, something was different. Something was off. His scars were gone—the small one on his knee from falling off his bike as a kid, the faint line on his finger from a paper cut that never quite healed. His teeth were too straight. His skin was too smooth.
This body was a copy. A perfect replica, but a copy nonetheless.
And somewhere, in the depths of his fractured mind, Takemichi began to wonder:
Where did this body come from?
The answer came three days later.
Takemichi was strong enough to walk now, though his neck was still wrapped in bandages and his broken arm still hung in its sling. Mikey had been... gentle. Disturbingly gentle. He brought food, pressed kisses to Takemichi's forehead, murmured endearments in that soft, sweet voice.
But he also watched. Always watched. Those dark eyes never leaving Takemichi's face, tracking every breath, every blink, every tiny movement.
On the third day, Mikey had to leave. Student council business, he said. Draken would stay with Takemichi while he was gone.
Draken.
Takemichi hadn't spoken to him since the garden, since the truth about his manipulation had come out. But when Mikey left and Draken appeared in the doorway, those dark eyes full of guilt and longing, Takemichi found he didn't have the strength to hate him anymore.
"I'm sorry," Draken said quietly. "For everything. For lying. For manipulating. For making you trust me when I was just another player in this game."
Takemichi looked at him—this tall, scarred alpha who had held him, helped him, betrayed him. "Why are you telling me this now?"
"Because you deserve to know the truth." Draken moved into the room, sitting carefully on the edge of the bed. "About everything. About this place. About what Mikey did to bring you here."
Takemichi's heart stuttered. "What do you mean?"
Draken was silent for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was heavy with old grief.
"Do you know why there are so few students in this school? Why the halls always feel empty, even when they're full?" He paused. "Because Mikey killed them. Dozens of them. Maybe more."
The words didn't make sense. Couldn't make sense. "What? Why?"
"To bring you here." Draken's eyes met his, dark and pained. "When he decided he wanted you—really wanted you, not just as a player but as a person—he needed a body for you to inhabit. A real body, in this world. And the only way to create one was to sacrifice others to the system."
Takemichi's blood ran cold. "Sacrifice?"
"The game—this world—it runs on rules. On balance. To create something new, something of equal value must be given in return." Draken's voice cracked. "Mikey gave them students. Dozens of students. He offered their lives to the system as payment for your body."
No.
The word echoed in Takemichi's mind, but he couldn't speak it. Couldn't move. Couldn't do anything except stare at Draken in horror.
"Students who were in his way. Students who challenged him. Students who just... happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time." Draken's hands clenched on his knees. "He rounded them up, one by one, and fed them to the system. Their lives, their souls, their existence—all traded to create a perfect vessel for you."
Takemichi's stomach heaved. He turned, barely making it to the edge of the bed before vomiting onto the floor—water and bile, nothing else, because he still couldn't eat properly.
"That body you're in," Draken continued, his voice hollow, "it's made from their remains. Their flesh, their blood, their lives—all woven together into something that looks like you. Smells like you. Is you, in every way that matters."
"No." Takemichi's voice was a rasp, barely audible. "No, that can't be true. I would know. I would feel—"
"Would you?" Draken's eyes were wet. "Would you feel the dozens of souls that died to give you life? Would you hear their screams in your dreams?" He paused. "Because I do. Every night. I see their faces—students I knew, students I failed to protect—and I wonder if you're worth it."
Takemichi stared at him, tears streaming down his face. "Am I?"
Draken's expression crumbled. "I don't know," he whispered. "I don't know anymore."
That night, Takemichi dreamed.
He dreamed of faces—dozens of them, young and terrified, pressed against a glass wall he couldn't break. They screamed, but he couldn't hear them. They reached for him, but he couldn't touch them. They dissolved, one by one, into particles of light that swirled together, merged, became—
Him.
Takemichi woke screaming.
Mikey was there instantly, his arms wrapping around Takemichi, his voice soft and soothing. "Shh, shh, it's okay. I'm here. You're safe."
Takemichi looked at him—this beautiful monster with his golden hair and dark eyes and gentle touch—and saw, for the first time, the truth beneath the surface.
"You killed them," he whispered. "All those students. You killed them to make me."
Mikey's expression didn't change. If anything, it softened. "You heard about that."
"How could you? How could you do that?"
Mikey's dark eyes held his, serene and certain. "Because I needed you. Because you're worth more than all of them combined." He reached up and cupped Takemichi's face, his thumb wiping away tears. "They were nothing. Empty shells playing at life. But you—you're real. You're mine. And I would kill a thousand more to keep you."
Takemichi's stomach turned. He tried to pull away, but Mikey's grip held firm.
"Don't," Mikey murmured. "Don't look at me like that. Don't hate me for loving you." His dark eyes glistened. "I did this for you. So you could be here, with me, forever. Doesn't that mean anything?"
"It means you're a monster."
"Yes." Mikey's smile was radiant. "I am. But I'm your monster. And you're my sun. My reason for existing. My everything."
He pressed a kiss to Takemichi's forehead, gentle as a prayer.
"Sleep now," he whispered. "Dream of me. And when you wake, we'll be together. Always."
Takemichi closed his eyes because he couldn't bear to look at him anymore.
But sleep didn't come.
And in the darkness, he could still hear the screams of the dead.
Three more weeks passed.
Takemichi healed. His neck scarred over, a ragged line where his scent gland used to be. His broken arm mended, the cast coming off to reveal pale, healed skin. His bruises faded, his cuts closed, his body returned to something approaching health.
But his mind—his mind was still fractured.
He thought about the students constantly. The ones who had died to make him. Their faces, their names, their stories—none of which he knew. They were just... statistics. Sacrifices. Prices paid for his existence.
And he couldn't live with that.
So he decided to leave.
The plan came together slowly, carefully.
Mikey's possessiveness had eased slightly as Takemichi healed—or maybe he'd just grown more confident in Takemichi's captivity. The guards were less vigilant. The locks were less secure. And Mikey himself had started leaving for longer periods, trusting that Takemichi was too broken to run.
He was wrong.
Takemichi waited until night, when the school was darkest and the guards were drowsy. He slipped out of Mikey's room—the lock was old, easy to pick with a hairpin he'd hidden weeks ago—and crept through the silent halls.
The school at night was different. Wrong. Shadows moved where no shadows should be, and once, Takemichi could have sworn he heard whispering—dozens of voices, soft and urgent, speaking words he couldn't understand.
He didn't stop.
The main doors loomed ahead, massive and dark. Takemichi's heart hammered as he approached them, as he reached for the handle, as he pulled—
They opened.
Cold night air rushed in, clean and sharp and free. Takemichi stepped through, his legs shaking, his breath coming in gasps. The grounds stretched before him—dark gardens, winding paths, and beyond them, the wall.
The wall that separated St. Mary's from the outside world.
He ran.
The gardens blurred past him, dark shapes in the moonlight. His legs pumped, his heart raced, his lungs burned. He didn't look back. Didn't dare. Just ran, and ran, and ran—
The wall loomed ahead.
Tall. Imposing. But not impossible. There were trees nearby, their branches reaching toward the top. If he could climb, if he could pull himself up, if he could just reach—
He was almost there.
Almost free.
And then—
"Ahh! YOU'RE HERE!!"
The voice came from nowhere, everywhere, right behind him. Takemichi spun, his heart in his throat, his body ready to fight or flee—
A girl stood in the moonlight.
Medium-length ginger hair, loose around her shoulders. Large eyes, striking yellow-orange, fixed on him with an intensity that made his skin crawl. A black sailor-style school uniform, white loose socks, brown shoes. Headphones around her neck, catching the pale light.
Shiba Yuzuha.
The name surfaced from the game's depths. Hakkai's sister. Taiju's victim. In the game, she'd been a minor character—someone the player could help, protect, befriend.
But this wasn't the game.
And Yuzuha was looking at him like he was the answer to every prayer she'd ever whispered.
"You're here," she repeated, her voice trembling with emotion. "You're actually here. I've been looking for you for so long—I thought I'd never find you—but you're here, you're real—"
Takemichi backed away slowly. "I don't—I don't know what you're talking about—"
"Yes you do." Yuzuha stepped closer, those yellow-orange eyes never leaving his face. "You're Takemichi. The teacher. The one who talked to me when no one else would. The one who listened." Her voice cracked. "The one who saw me."
Takemichi's mind raced, pulling up memories that weren't his—or were they? In the game, he'd spent time with Yuzuha. Helped her. Befriended her. He remembered now—late-night conversations, shared secrets, a bond that had grown slowly over countless playthroughs.
But that was the game. That wasn't real.
Was it?
"Yuzuha," he said carefully, "I don't know what you think I am, but—"
"I know what you are." She was close now, too close, her eyes shining with something that looked like love and looked like madness and looked exactly like every other alpha in this nightmare. "You're the one who saved me. The one who made me feel like I mattered. The one I've been waiting for my whole life."
Takemichi's back hit the wall. Nowhere left to retreat.
"Yuzuha, please—"
"Don't." Her hand shot out, grabbing his wrist. Her grip was strong—stronger than it should have been. "Don't tell me to go. Don't tell me this isn't real. I've been looking for you for months. Ever since you disappeared. Ever since Manjiro took you."
Months. But he'd only been here—what, weeks? The timelines didn't match. Nothing matched.
"I don't understand," he whispered.
Yuzuha's expression softened—really softened, the madness retreating for just a moment. "I know. You don't remember. You can't remember. But I remember for both of us." She pressed his hand to her chest, over her heart. "Every word you said. Every moment we shared. You made me feel like I was worth something. Like I wasn't just Taiju's punching bag, Hakkai's burden, everyone's afterthought." Tears streamed down her face. "You made me feel seen."
Takemichi stared at her—this beautiful, broken girl who loved a version of him that existed only in code—and felt his heart crack.
"Yuzuha," he said softly. "That wasn't real. I was just playing a game. I didn't know—I couldn't have known—"
"It was real to me." Her yellow-orange eyes burned. "It's the most real thing I've ever felt. And now you're here, in the flesh, and I'm not letting you go."
She pulled him close, wrapping her arms around him, pressing her face into his shoulder. Takemichi stood frozen, his arms at his sides, his mind reeling.
"I love you," Yuzuha whispered against his neck. "I've loved you since the first time you talked to me. Since you looked at me like I mattered. Since you told me I was strong enough to survive." She pulled back just enough to meet his eyes. "And I know you love me too. You showed me. In the game. In the ending we got together."
The hidden ending. Peace. All the characters saved, all the routes completed, all the bonds formed.
Including with Yuzuha.
Takemichi remembered now—fragments, echoes, memories that weren't quite his. Walking with her through the gardens. Holding her hand. Promising her that everything would be okay.
Promising her forever.
"I can't," he whispered. "I'm not—I'm not the person you think I am. I'm just some guy who played a game. I don't belong here. I don't belong to anyone."
Yuzuha's smile was gentle, sad, absolutely certain. "You belong to all of us. That's the point. That's why you're here." She cupped his face, her thumbs tracing his cheekbones. "Manjiro brought you here because he couldn't bear to lose you. But he's not the only one who loves you. He's not the only one who needs you."
Takemichi's eyes filled with tears. "I can't be what you need. I can't be what any of you need. I'm just—I'm just me."
"You're exactly what we need." Yuzuha pressed her forehead to his. "And I'm not letting you go. Not now. Not ever."
She kissed him.
It was soft. Gentle. Nothing like the claiming kisses of alphas, nothing like the possessive touches of monsters. Just... a kiss. A girl kissing someone she loved.
Takemichi's body responded before his mind could stop it—his arms coming up to hold her, his lips returning the kiss, his heart aching with a longing he couldn't name.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Yuzuha was smiling.
"Come with me," she whispered. "I know a place. Somewhere safe. Somewhere they won't find us."
Takemichi looked at her—at this beautiful, broken girl who loved him with everything she had—and felt hope flicker in his chest.
"Okay," he whispered. "Okay."
They ran together, hand in hand, into the darkness.
But in the shadows, watching, a figure stood still as stone.
Mikey's dark eyes followed them, unblinking. His expression was calm. Serene. Utterly terrifying.
"Interesting," he murmured. "Very interesting."
He didn't follow. Didn't stop them. Didn't do anything except watch as Takemichi disappeared into the night with another of his devoted followers.
Because he knew.
He always knew.
And he was patient.
Let Takemichi run. Let him hide. Let him think he could escape.
In the end, he would always come back.
They all did.
Mikey smiled—that sweet, gentle, utterly insane smile—and melted back into the shadows.
The game continued.
And Takemichi was still the main character.
In a hidden corner of the school, in a room Yuzuha had prepared weeks ago, Takemichi sat on a small bed and tried to process everything.
"She's been preparing this place for months," Yuzuha said quietly, sitting beside him. "Ever since I realized you were really here. Ever since I started dreaming about you again."
"Dreaming?"
She nodded, her ginger hair catching the candlelight. "We all dream of you. The ones who loved you in the game. We see you in our sleep—walking with us, talking with us, promising us that everything would be okay." Her yellow-orange eyes met his. "And then you were gone. And we woke up alone. And we've been searching for you ever since."
Takemichi's heart ached. "I didn't know. I couldn't have known."
"I know." Yuzuha took his hand, interlacing their fingers. "But now you're here. And I'm not letting you go."
She leaned against him, her head on his shoulder, her body warm and real.
For a long moment, they sat in silence.
Then Takemichi spoke.
"What happens now?"
Yuzuha's smile was soft, sad, absolutely certain.
"Now we wait. We hide. We survive." She squeezed his hand. "And we love each other. For as long as we can."
Takemichi closed his eyes and let himself pretend, just for a moment, that this could be enough.
That love could be enough.
That in this world of monsters and madness and beautiful, broken people, he could find peace.
It was a stupid hope.
But it was all he had.
Outside, in the darkness, the monsters stirred.
Mikey smiled in his room, counting the hours until his sun returned.
Izana nursed his wounds and planned his revenge.
Taiju stared at the ceiling and wondered if he'd ever see those ocean eyes again.
Seishu and Kokonoi sat in silence, waiting for orders.
The Haitani brothers laughed about something cruel.
Shion bounced on his heels, eager for another chance to play.
And Yuzuha held Takemichi close, whispering promises she couldn't keep.
In St. Mary's Private School, love was just another weapon.
And everyone was armed.
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