St Mary's private school [Alltake]
19
The nightmare came without warning.
Takemichi was back in St. Mary's—the real St. Mary's, the one from his dreams, with its bloodstained halls and hungry alphas and endless, suffocating terror. He was running through corridors that twisted and stretched, always just ahead of reaching hands, always just out of reach of safety.
Mikey's voice echoed around him: "You're mine. You'll always be mine."
Izana's laughter: "Look at him. So pretty when he breaks."
Shion's fingers in his hair, yanking, pulling, hurting.
And then—
The gun. The taste of metal. The BANG that ended everything.
Takemichi woke screaming.
He was in his dorm room. Safe. Ordinary. The morning sun streaming through the window, birds singing outside, the distant sounds of students starting their day.
But he couldn't breathe.
Couldn't stop shaking.
Couldn't shake the feeling that any moment, the nightmare would bleed into reality and he'd be back there—trapped, broken, owned.
His phone buzzed.
Mikey: Good morning, Takemitchy! Ready for lunch today?
Takemichi stared at the message. At the name. At the dark-haired boy who was nothing like the monster in his dreams.
But his hands wouldn't stop shaking.
He typed back: Sorry, can't today. Busy.
Mikey: Oh. Okay. Tomorrow?
Takemichi: Maybe. We'll see.
He set the phone down and buried his face in his hands.
The day was a blur of avoidance.
Takemichi skipped his usual breakfast with friends, claiming a headache. He went to class early, sat in the back, and didn't speak to anyone. He ate lunch alone in a corner of the cafeteria, jumping at every shadow, every unexpected noise.
His phone buzzed constantly.
Haruchiyo: Where are you? You weren't at breakfast.
Takemichi: Not hungry.
Haruchiyo: You're always hungry. What's wrong?
Takemichi: Nothing. Just tired.
Haruchiyo: ...okay. But I'm watching you.
Takemichi: That's not creepy at all.
Haruchiyo: It's my job.
Kakucho: Hey. Missed you at the library today. Everything okay?
Takemichi: Yeah, fine. Just busy.
Kakucho: You sure? You seem... off.
Takemichi: I'm sure. Thanks for checking.
Kakucho: Anytime.
Mitsuya: Takemichi! You weren't at sewing group! Did I mess up the schedule?
Takemichi: No, I just couldn't make it. Sorry.
Mitsuya: Don't apologize! Just worried about you. Text me later?
Takemichi: Okay.
Izana: Mouse. Kakucho says you're avoiding people. What's wrong?
Takemichi stared at the message. Mouse. The nickname Izana had given him. It should have been annoying, but somehow it made him smile.
Takemichi: Nothing's wrong. Just tired.
Izana: You're lying. I can tell.
Takemichi: How?
Izana: Because I'm observant. And because you didn't call me a scary cat even once.
Takemichi snorted despite himself.
Takemichi: Scary cat.
Izana: There it is. Now tell me what's wrong.
Takemichi: I can't. Not yet. Just... give me space. Please.
A long pause. Then:
Izana: Okay. But if you need anything—anything at all—I'm here. Scary cat and all.
Takemichi's eyes stung.
Takemichi: Thanks, Izana.
And then there was Mikey.
His messages kept coming, soft and persistent, like waves against a shore.
Mikey: Takemitchy. I know something's wrong. You don't have to tell me what. But please don't shut me out.
Mikey: I'm here. Whenever you're ready.
Mikey: I miss you. Even if it's only been a day.
Mikey: Takemitchy...
Takemichi wanted to respond. Wanted to explain. Wanted to tell him about the nightmare, about the fear, about the way his heart raced every time he saw dark hair and thought of him.
But he couldn't.
Not yet.
So he just stared at the messages and said nothing.
His real friends—his first friends—noticed immediately.
Akkun cornered him after class. "Okay, what's going on? You've been avoiding everyone except us for two days. Even Sanzu's worried, and that guy doesn't worry about anything."
Takemichi shrugged, avoiding his eyes. "Just tired. Long week."
"It's Tuesday."
"Long couple of days."
Akkun's eyes narrowed. "Takemichi. We've known each other forever. You can't lie to me." He grabbed Takemichi's shoulders, forcing him to meet his eyes. "What's wrong?"
Takemichi's defenses crumbled. "I had a nightmare. A really bad one. About... about things that happened. That didn't happen. That I'm scared might happen." He shook his head. "It's stupid."
"It's not stupid." Yamagishi appeared beside them, Makoto and Takuya trailing behind. "Nightmares are real. The fear they cause is real. You don't have to apologize for being scared."
Makoto nodded. "We're your friends. We're here. Whatever you need."
Takuya said nothing, but his hand rested briefly on Takemichi's shoulder—a warm, steady presence.
Takemichi's eyes filled with tears. "I don't know what I need. I just... I can't face them. The others. Not yet. Every time I see them, I remember—" He stopped, unable to continue.
"Then don't." Akkun's voice was firm. "Take all the time you need. We've got your back. Always."
Takemichi nodded, wiping his eyes.
"Now." Akkun's grin returned. "Let's get ice cream. Ice cream fixes everything."
Takemichi laughed—a small, watery sound, but real.
"Yeah," he said. "Okay."
Three days passed.
Takemichi stayed close to his original friends, finding comfort in their familiar presence. Akkun's loud jokes, Yamagishi's dry comments, Makoto's quiet kindness, Takuya's steady silence. They created a bubble of normalcy around him, shielding him from the chaos of his other relationships.
But he couldn't avoid the messages.
Haruchiyo: You're still avoiding me. I'm counting the days.
Haruchiyo: 3 days. That's 72 hours. 4,320 minutes. Not that I'm counting.
Haruchiyo: Okay, I'm definitely counting. Come back.
Kakucho: Hope you're okay. The library's boring without you.
Kakucho: Izana keeps asking about you. I keep lying. I'm bad at lying.
Kakucho: Please text back. Even just a word.
Mitsuya: Made a new pattern for you. It's a little deer, like the one you said you liked. Come see it when you're ready.
Mitsuya: No pressure. Just... thinking of you.
Izana: Mouse. It's been 3 days. Kakucho's moping. Mikey's worse. Even Sanzu's showing emotion, which is terrifying. Whatever's wrong, we can help. Just let us.
Izana: Also, I called you mouse again. Did it work? Are you laughing?
Takemichi was, in fact, laughing. A little.
And then there was Mikey.
His messages had changed over the days. From worried to desperate to something almost resigned.
Mikey: Takemitchy. Please. Just tell me you're okay.
Mikey: I'm not asking for anything else. Just... let me know you're alive.
Mikey: I miss you so much it hurts.
Mikey: I don't know what I did wrong. Whatever it was, I'm sorry. Just come back.
Mikey: Takemitchy...
Takemichi stared at the last message for a long time.
He wanted to respond. Wanted to explain. Wanted to tell Mikey that it wasn't him—it was the nightmare, the fear, the stupid, persistent terror that wouldn't let him go.
But the words wouldn't come.
So he set the phone down and went to find his friends.
The lake was beautiful at sunset.
Takemichi had wandered there without thinking, needing space from even his closest friends. The water glowed orange and gold, reflecting the dying light, and for a moment, he felt almost peaceful.
Then he heard it.
Crying.
Soft, muffled, desperate—the sound of someone trying very hard not to be heard.
Takemichi's feet moved before his brain could catch up.
Behind a cluster of trees, near the water's edge, a girl sat hunched over, her shoulders shaking with sobs. Shoulder-length ginger-orange hair fell around her face, hiding her expression. Her uniform was rumpled, her shoes kicked off, her bare feet in the grass.
Takemichi's heart clenched.
"Hey," he said softly. "Are you okay?"
The girl's head snapped up, revealing striking yellow-orange eyes, red-rimmed and wet with tears. She was beautiful—slim, average height, with the kind of face that would normally be bright and cheerful. But now it was twisted with grief.
"Go away." Her voice was rough, raw. "Just—leave me alone."
Takemichi should have left. Should have respected her privacy, her pain, her obvious desire to be alone.
But he couldn't.
Not when someone was hurting.
"I can't do that," he said quietly, sitting on the grass a few feet away. "Not when you're crying like that."
The girl stared at him, those yellow-orange eyes wide with something that might have been disbelief. "You don't even know me."
"I know you're hurting." Takemichi met her gaze steadily. "That's enough."
For a long moment, neither of them moved.
Then the girl's face crumpled, and she started crying again—really crying, huge heaving sobs that shook her entire body.
Takemichi moved closer. Didn't touch her, didn't crowd her, just... sat beside her. Present. Available.
"I'm Yuzuha," the girl gasped between sobs. "Shiba Yuzuha."
Takemichi's heart stuttered.
Yuzuha.
In his nightmare, she'd been obsessed with him. Had stolen his clothes, kissed him without consent, promised to love him forever in ways that felt like cages.
But this wasn't the nightmare.
This was just a girl. A hurting, broken girl who needed someone to listen.
"I'm Takemichi," he said softly. "Hanagaki Takemichi."
Yuzuha nodded, not really listening, too lost in her grief.
They sat in silence for a while, the only sounds her crying and the gentle lap of water against the shore.
Then, slowly, haltingly, she began to talk.
"My brother," Yuzuha whispered. "My older brother. Taiju." She spat the name like poison. "He's... he's a monster."
Takemichi's blood ran cold, but he stayed silent, letting her speak.
"He beats us. Me and Hakkai. Has for years." Her voice cracked. "Our parents don't care. They pretend not to see. They let him do whatever he wants because he's the eldest, because he's an alpha, because—" She stopped, gasping.
Takemichi's hands clenched at his sides. "That's terrible."
Yuzuha laughed—a bitter, broken sound. "Terrible. Yeah. That's one word for it." She wiped her eyes, smearing tears across her cheeks. "Hakkai—my little brother—he's so scared. He flinches every time someone raises their voice. He can't sleep without a light on. He thinks it's his fault, that he deserves it, that if he was just better—" Her voice broke again.
"And you?" Takemichi asked gently. "What do you think?"
Yuzuha's yellow-orange eyes met his, and in them he saw something fierce. Something wild.
"I think I want to kill him."
The words hung in the air between them, heavy and terrible.
Takemichi didn't flinch. Didn't look away. Just nodded slowly.
"That's a lot to carry," he said quietly. "Wanting to hurt someone who hurt you. Wanting to protect someone you love. Being caught between those things." He paused. "I get it. Sort of. Not the same, but... I get it."
Yuzuha stared at him, those striking eyes searching his face. "You're not scared of me. After I just said I want to kill someone."
"Should I be?"
"Most people would be."
Takemichi shrugged. "I've met a lot of people who've said worse. Done worse." He thought of his nightmare—of Mikey's black eyes, Izana's cold smile, the twenty-three alphas who wanted to own him. "Wanting to hurt someone who hurt you isn't the same as actually doing it. The fact that you're here, crying, instead of out there..." He gestured vaguely. "That means something."
Yuzuha was quiet for a long moment.
Then, slowly, she leaned against him.
Just her shoulder against his, a small point of contact. But it felt like a gift.
"I don't know what to do," she whispered. "I've been holding this for so long. Protecting Hakkai, enduring Taiju, pretending everything is fine. And I'm so tired, Takemichi. I'm so tired."
Takemichi didn't have answers. Didn't have solutions. All he had was his presence, his willingness to listen, his stubborn refusal to abandon someone in pain.
So he sat there, letting her lean on him, and said nothing.
Just... was there.
They stayed by the lake until the sun fully set and the stars came out.
Yuzuha talked and talked—about her childhood, about the first time Taiju hit her, about the way Hakkai had changed from a bright, happy boy to a trembling shadow. About her mother's averted eyes and her father's silence. About the rage that burned inside her, constant and hot, and the fear that one day she wouldn't be able to control it.
Takemichi listened.
When she finally fell silent, exhausted from crying and talking, he spoke.
"You're brave," he said quietly. "Braver than you know. Surviving that, protecting Hakkai, still being able to feel things—that takes strength most people don't have."
Yuzuha looked at him, those yellow-orange eyes reflecting starlight. "You really believe that?"
"I really do."
A tear slipped down her cheek. "No one's ever said that to me. No one's ever..." She shook her head, unable to continue.
Takemichi reached out and, very gently, wiped the tear away.
"You're not alone," he said softly. "I don't know how to fix your family. I don't know how to make Taiju stop. But I can be here. I can listen. I can remind you that you're worth more than what he's made you feel."
Yuzuha stared at him for a long, breathless moment.
Then, slowly, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his cheek.
It was soft. Brief. Almost chaste.
But when she pulled back, her eyes were different. Warmer. Brighter. Hopeful.
"Thank you," she whispered. "For being kind. For not running away. For..." She touched her chest, over her heart. "For making me feel like maybe I don't have to be alone."
Takemichi's face warmed. "I—you don't have to thank me. I just—"
Yuzuha smiled—a real smile, the first he'd seen from her. It transformed her face, made her look young and bright and full of possibility.
"You're cute when you're flustered," she said. "Has anyone ever told you that?"
Takemichi sputtered. "I—what—"
Yuzuha laughed—a real laugh, warm and genuine, nothing like the broken sounds from before. It was the most beautiful thing Takemichi had heard all day.
She reached out and played with his collar—the black collar that marked him as omega—her fingers light and teasing.
"And you have pretty eyes," she continued, clearly enjoying his discomfort. "Like the ocean. I could get lost in eyes like that."
Takemichi's face was on fire. "Yuzuha—"
"Call me Yu-chan." Her smile widened. "All my friends do."
Before Takemichi could respond, her phone buzzed. She glanced at it, then groaned.
"Hakkai. He's worried." She stood, brushing off her skirt. "I should go. He'll panic if I'm not back soon."
Takemichi stood too, suddenly reluctant to end this strange, intimate moment. "Will you be okay?"
Yuzuha's expression softened. "Better than I've been in a long time." She reached out and touched his face, just briefly. "Thank you, Takemichi. For everything."
Then she was gone, disappearing into the darkness.
Takemichi stood by the lake, alone with the stars, and touched his cheek where she'd kissed him.
The next morning, Takemichi's phone exploded.
Group Chat: Best Friends (plus Haruchiyo)
Akkun: OKAY WHO IS YUZUHA AND WHY IS SHE TEXTING ME ABOUT TAKEMICHI
Yamagishi: She texted you?
Akkun: "Hi, you're Takemichi's friend? I'm Yuzuha. We met last night. He's really sweet." WHAT DOES THAT MEAN
Makoto: It means they met last night and she thinks he's sweet.
Akkun: I KNOW WHAT THE WORDS MEAN I MEAN WHAT HAPPENED
Haruchiyo: ...Yuzuha. Shiba Yuzuha.
Akkun: YOU KNOW HER?
Haruchiyo: Know of her. She's Taiju's sister. Hakkai's sister. Complicated family.
Yamagishi: And she's texting about Takemichi. At 7 AM.
Makoto: This is going to be a thing, isn't it?
Takuya: ...
Akkun: TAKUYA AGREES
Private message from Haruchiyo:
Haruchiyo: You met Yuzuha Shiba. By the lake. At night.
Takemichi: ...are you stalking me?
Haruchiyo: No. I'm observant. And you smell like lake water and someone else's tears.
Takemichi: That's creepy.
Haruchiyo: It's accurate. What happened?
Takemichi hesitated, then typed out the story. The crying. The confession. The kiss on the cheek. The collar playing.
Haruchiyo's response was immediate:
Haruchiyo: She likes you.
Takemichi: She was just grateful. I helped her.
Haruchiyo: She played with your collar. She kissed your cheek. She called you sweet. She likes you.
Takemichi: ...oh.
Haruchiyo: Yeah. Oh.
Private message from Kakucho:
Kakucho: Izana just showed me a text from someone named Yuzuha. She wants to know more about you. He's not happy.
Takemichi: Why does Izana know Yuzuha?
Kakucho: Everyone knows everyone in this school. Especially complicated families. The Shibas are... complicated.
Takemichi: So I've heard.
Kakucho: Are you okay? After last night?
Takemichi: I'm fine. She's the one who needed help.
Kakucho: You always help people. It's one of the things we... like about you.
Takemichi stared at the message, reading between the lines.
Takemichi: Kakucho...
Kakucho: Don't. Just... don't. Not yet. I'm not ready.
Takemichi: Okay. But when you are, I'm here.
Kakucho: I know. That's the problem.
Private message from Mitsuya:
Mitsuya: Hey! Yuzuha just joined the sewing group. She said you recommended it?
Takemichi blinked. He hadn't recommended it. But apparently Yuzuha had found her own way.
Takemichi: I didn't, but I'm glad she did. She could use something creative.
Mitsuya: She seems nice. A little intense, but nice. Also she asked a lot of questions about you.
Takemichi: ...what kind of questions?
Mitsuya: "Is he always this kind?" "Does he have a girlfriend?" "What's his favorite food?" You know. Normal stuff.
Takemichi: That's not normal stuff.
Mitsuya: It's normal for someone with a crush.
Takemichi buried his face in his hands.
Private message from Izana:
Izana: Mouse.
Izana: There's a ginger girl asking about you.
Izana: She's very insistent.
Izana: I don't like her.
Takemichi: You don't even know her.
Izana: I know she's interested in you. That's enough.
Takemichi: Izana...
Izana: I'm not saying anything. I'm just... observing.
Takemichi: You're jealous.
Izana: I'm NOT jealous. I'm protective. There's a difference.
Takemichi: Sure there is, scary cat.
Izana: ...I hate that nickname.
Takemichi: No you don't.
Izana: No. I don't. Come back soon, mouse. It's boring without you.
Private message from Mikey:
Mikey: Takemitchy.
Mikey: I heard about last night. About the girl by the lake.
Mikey: I'm glad you helped her. That's who you are. That's why we... care about you.
Mikey: But I miss you. I miss your laugh. I miss your eyes. I miss the way you say my name.
Mikey: I know something scared you. I know you're hiding. I'm not asking you to stop.
Mikey: I'm just asking you to remember that I'm here. Waiting. Always.
Mikey: Come back when you're ready. I'll be here.
Takemichi stared at the message for a long time.
Then, slowly, he typed:
Takemichi: I miss you too.
Mikey: ...really?
Takemichi: Really. I just... needed space. Needed to figure things out. The nightmare—it felt so real. And seeing you, seeing all of you, reminded me of things I wanted to forget.
Mikey: I'm sorry. For whatever I did. In your dream.
Takemichi: You didn't do anything. The dream you was different. You're... you're not him.
Mikey: I'm glad. Because I would never hurt you, Takemitchy. Never.
Takemichi: I know. I'm starting to believe it.
Mikey: That's enough. For now.
Takemichi: Yeah. For now.
That afternoon, Takemichi finally emerged from his self-imposed isolation.
He went to the sewing room first. Mitsuya was there, along with several other students—including a familiar ginger head bent over a sewing machine.
Yuzuha looked up when he entered, and her face lit up.
"Takemichi!" She abandoned her project and crossed to him, throwing her arms around him in a hug. "You came!"
Takemichi hugged her back, surprised by the warmth of the gesture. "I heard you joined the group."
"Mitsuya said you were part of it. I wanted to be where you are." She pulled back, those striking yellow-orange eyes shining. "Is that weird? That's weird, isn't it?"
"A little," Takemichi admitted. "But nice weird."
Yuzuha grinned. "I'll take it."
They spent the next hour sewing—or rather, Yuzuha sewed while Takemichi struggled and Mitsuya patiently corrected his mistakes. It was comfortable. Easy. Normal.
And when Yuzuha's hand brushed his, or her shoulder pressed against his, or she leaned over to see his work and her hair tickled his cheek—Takemichi found he didn't mind.
Not at all.
Later, walking back to the dorms, Takemichi's phone buzzed with a new group chat.
Group Chat: The Council (created by Mikey)
Mikey: Takemitchy is back. Sort of.
Izana: We noticed.
Haruchiyo: He's with the ginger girl.
Kakucho: She's very... present.
Mitsuya: She joined the sewing group. For him.
Mikey: I'm not jealous.
Izana: You're obviously jealous.
Haruchiyo: We're all obviously jealous.
Kakucho: ...yeah.
Mitsuya: I'm trying to be mature about this.
Izana: How's that working?
Mitsuya: Terribly.
Mikey: So what do we do?
A long pause.
Haruchiyo: Nothing. We wait. We're patient. We let him come to us.
Izana: And if he chooses her instead?
Another pause. Longer this time.
Mikey: Then we let him go. Because that's what love is. Wanting someone to be happy, even if it's not with you.
Izana: ...that's surprisingly mature.
Mikey: I have my moments.
Kakucho: I hate this.
Mitsuya: Same.
Haruchiyo: Same.
Izana: Same.
Mikey: Same. But we do it anyway. For him.
And in the quiet of their rooms, five alphas sat with their feelings and waited.
For Takemichi.
For happiness.
For whatever came next.
Takemichi, walking hand in hand with Yuzuha through the sunset campus, had no idea about the conversation happening in his absence.
He only knew that for the first time in days, the nightmare felt far away.
And that was enough.
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