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Heavy Hearted

Nakakita Yuma x female reader

Wordcount ≈ 42k

Warnings: violence, supernatural battles, horror elements, injuries, blood, themes of death and loss, trauma, toxic relationships, emotional distress, I think that’s it.

Featuring Jay of Enhypen

Thank you to everyone who enjoyed ‘At Last’, the story with Kei as he found his mate, and by popular demand, here we have a second pack member findig his mate! This is way longer than the other one, but I hope you will enjoy reading it either way!

Please reblog and comment if you enjoy it!

Taglist: @evemeri, @nadiakittyy, @voucearse, @seodami, @petunia05, let me know if you want to be added!

Networks: @k-records

Yudai/K. 3. Euijoo EJ extra 4. Jo. 5. Nicholas 6. OT9 special fic 7. Fuma 8. Harua 9. Maki 10. Taki

Ever since Kei found his mate, things had shifted. It wasn’t just that Aya was now part of their lives; it was the way Kei smiled. The way the house was quieter in the best ways, and fuller in others. There was something grounding about the bond between them, something steady and sacred.

And Yuma had felt it. He didn’t just see it, he felt it, all the way down to his bones. He’d watched Aya slot into their chaotic world like she’d always belonged there. Watched Kei become softer, surer. Watched them fall into a rhythm that looked like peace. And it made something in Yuma ache.

He wasn’t jealous. Not really. He was happy for Kei. Overjoyed, actually. But still, there was a part of him that buzzed now with quiet urgency, a longing he hadn’t known what to name before.

Yuma and Aya had gotten close quickly after she moved in, drawn together by some natural pull. She was easy to talk to, warm and sharp in the ways that made Yuma feel seen. And maybe it was because she wasn’t his mate that he felt so comfortable around her. She never expected anything from him but honesty.

Sometimes he asked her questions, about how it felt when she found out Kei was a werewolf, and when he told her about the bond. About the fear. About the weight of being loved like that. And she answered him, carefully, gently. Never sugarcoated it. She told him it had been terrifying at first. That she hadn’t believed in soulmates. That it had taken time, time Kei gave her before he told her. That time was everything for her, because she had truly fallen in love with Yudai at that point so it didn’t matter if he was a werewolf or human, or whatever. And Yuma had listened. Really listened. Because he was curious. More than that, he was ready. Or at least, he thought he was.

~~~

The sun had dipped behind the hills by the time Aya and Harua returned home, the front door creaking open to the familiar scent of warm spices and worn-in wood. Laughter echoed faintly from the living room, where a few of the boys were sprawled out on couches, lazily flipping through channels or half-heartedly arguing about whose turn it was to clean the kitchen.

Yuma was there, curled up sideways on one of the couches, sketchbook resting against his knees as he absentmindedly tapped a pencil against the page. Aya smiled as she stepped inside, brushing off her coat. “Hey,” she said, making her way over. “Got a second?” Yuma looked up, his face lighting up the moment he saw her. “Always. What’s up?”

“I’ve been assigned a new piece at the magazine,” she said, slipping into the chair beside him. “It’s a feature on young people making waves in their fields, sort of a success-at-a-young-age kind of thing.” Yuma raised a brow. “Sounds fancy.” “It is,” she said with a playful roll of her eyes. “And Harua mentioned something I somehow didn’t know about you.”

Harua, passing through with a bottle of water, smirked. “You mean how he’s a literal fashion designer with two collections already under his belt?” Aya gave Yuma a pointed look. “That.” Yuma scratched the back of his neck, looking modest but clearly pleased. “I don’t exactly lead with it.” “Well, I want to interview you for the piece,” she said. “If you’re up for it.” Yuma blinked. Then grinned. “Yeah! Of course, are you kidding? I’d be honored. What day works for you?”

They talked briefly, checking calendars and tossing out potential dates, until they settled on a late afternoon later that week. “Oh,” Aya added as she stood, remembering, “I’m also interviewing a young chef for the piece. She just opened a restaurant downtown. It’s supposed to be amazing.”

At the word chef, two heads popped up from the other end of the room, Maki and Taki, like wolves hearing the dinner bell. “Did someone say food?” Maki asked, already halfway across the living room. Aya laughed. “I said I was going to a restaurant, not bringing one home.” “Details,” Taki muttered.

Aya held up her hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, how about this: after I’ve finished the interview, maybe we can all go there one night? Celebrate the article before it even drops.” A chorus of interest followed, with Nicholas chiming in from the hallway to ask what kind of food it was, and Harua offering to check the menu online. Yuma just smiled quietly to himself, the pencil now forgotten between his fingers.

~~~

The afternoon sun had started its descent, casting a soft golden hue across the storefronts that lined the quieter end of the street. Aya stood just outside the entrance of the newly opened restaurant, her hands tucked into the pockets of her coat as she took it in.

The place had charm, elegant but not intimidating, the kind of restaurant that invited you in with warmth instead of dazzle. Light filtered through tall windows, and from within came the rich, comforting scent of herbs and roasted garlic, warm bread and something faintly sweet.

Aya’s stomach gave a soft, traitorous grumble. “Smells really good,” Kei murmured beside her, leaning against the car with his arms crossed, watching her with that familiar, quiet smile. She turned to him with a sheepish grin.

“Don’t eat anything until you’re done interviewing,” he teased, straightening up. Then he bent to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Good luck. I’ll come pick you and Harua up from the office when you’re done.” “Deal,” Aya said, brushing invisible lint from his coat before turning away.

She waved over her shoulder as she walked toward the restaurant. Behind her, Kei waited just a few seconds longer before slipping back into the car and pulling away. As Aya turned to the door, it swung open before she could reach for the handle.

A young woman stood there, early twenties, with a calm, clear presence and a professional yet approachable air. She wore a crisp white apron over a soft blue blouse, her sleeves rolled neatly to her elbows. A few stray strands of hair had escaped her loose ponytail.

“Hi! Are you Aya?” the woman asked, her voice light but confident. Aya smiled warmly. “That’s me.” The young woman extended a hand. “I’m (Y/n). Welcome! I’m so glad you could make it.” “Thank you for having me,” Aya replied, stepping inside as (Y/n) held the door for her. The restaurant was even more inviting on the inside, modern wood paneling, open kitchen, small tables spaced thoughtfully. Cozy, but with a quiet elegance that mirrored its owner.

They settled into the corner table, the soft hum of the kitchen in the background and the warm scent of spices wrapping around them like a comforter. Aya set her recorder on the table and gave (Y/n) a quick smile.

“Mind if I record?” she asked. “Not at all,” (Y/n) said, already reaching for a water carafe to pour them both a glass. Aya tapped the record button and leaned in with her notebook. “Okay, let’s start simple. What got you into cooking in the first place?” (Y/n) smiled faintly, fingers curling around her glass.

“Well… I guess it started because I had to,” she said, her tone thoughtful rather than bitter. “My parents weren’t really around much when I was growing up. Work. Fighting. Life. You name it. So, I learned how to take care of myself pretty early.” Aya nodded, gently encouraging her to go on.

“But also, when I was really little, before everything got so messy, I used to cook with my grandfather, on my mom’s side.” A soft smile tugged at her lips. “He was patient. He let me stir things even when I didn’t need to. I think that’s when I first felt it. That comfort. We had fun, I got to learn how to feel the food, to know when it’s good just by looking at it or smelling it, not even having to taste it,”

She glanced down, her voice growing a little quieter. “Later, when I was cooking alone, I found myself going back to those moments. That same warmth. And when I started making food for other people, friends, neighbors, classmates, partners, they’d always light up. Even if they were having a bad day. And I realized, I liked giving people comfort. Even if it was just through a bowl of soup.”

Aya’s heart swelled. She could already feel the story forming in her mind. “And how did Koyomi come to be?” she asked. “You’re pretty young to already have your own restaurant.” (Y/n) laughed softly. “Yeah, tell my sleep schedule that.” They both chuckled, and then (Y/n) leaned back in her chair a little.

“It was a lot of work. I started at sixteen, working in kitchens. Did everything from prep to dishes to delivery. I saved every penny, picked up extra shifts wherever I could. My friends, Lila and Jay, we always talked about opening something of our own. Something with heart.” She glanced around the restaurant with pride in her eyes.

“When we finally realized we might actually do it, we pulled our resources together, pitched a plan, begged a few investors to believe in us, and… here we are. It wasn’t easy. We worked pretty much nonstop. But it’s ours.” Aya smiled, genuinely impressed. “That’s incredible. The space is beautiful. And the energy in here, it feels like someone’s home.” “That’s the goal,” (Y/n) said. “I wanted people to feel safe here. To sit down and breathe.”

After a few more questions, Aya set down her pen, already knowing the article would write itself. (Y/n)’s words had weight, and her passion was the kind that didn’t need dressing up, it simply spoke for itself.

Just as Aya was reaching to stop the recorder, (Y/n) stood up. “Wait here,” she said with a small smile. “I’ve got something for you.” Before Aya could respond, she was already slipping into the kitchen, the sound of clattering dishes and soft instructions echoing faintly from beyond the doorway.

A few minutes later, (Y/n) returned with a tray balanced effortlessly in her hands, which she laid out across the table with surprising grace, two entrées, two main courses, and two desserts. Each dish was plated with care, vibrant and balanced.

“I figured,” (Y/n) said, “if you’re writing about us, you should know what we’re putting on plates.” Aya blinked. “Are you, wait, all of this?” “Smaller portions,” (Y/n) explained. “So you can taste everything without feeling like you need to roll home after.” Aya laughed, already reaching for a fork.

“These are the specials,” (Y/n) continued. “I developed the entrées and mains, with some input from Jay. The desserts are all Lila, she’s basically a pastry genius,” Aya took her first bite and nearly dropped the fork.

“Okay,” she said after a stunned pause, “you weren’t kidding.” (Y/n) laughed quietly. “You like it?” “Like it?” Aya blinked. “I love it!” Aya grinned, savoring another bite.

Aya worked through each plate, entrées with subtle but complex seasoning, mains that felt like warmth on a plate, and desserts that were light but indulgent, she knew this place wasn’t just good. It was special. Once the table had been cleared and the recorder switched off, Aya stood and slung her bag over her shoulder.

“I’ll definitely be back,” she said. “With my boyfriend, and his brothers. You might want to prep extra portions. There’s a lot of them, and trust me, they can eat a whole house if it’s good,”

(Y/n) smiled, a little amused, a little curious. “Just let me know when. I’ll hold a table for you.” She scribbled her number onto a notepad and tore off the corner, handing it to Aya. Aya tucked it into her pocket with a warm smile. “Thanks, (Y/n). Really.” “Of course,” (Y/n) said. “You’re always welcome here.”

~~~

Back at the magazine office, Aya settled into her desk, the lingering taste of warm spices still on her tongue as she began tapping out notes for the article. The piece was already forming in her mind, a story about food, family, and finding purpose early in life. About someone who had turned something painful into something beautiful. Someone who deserved to be seen.

Now all she needed was Yuma’s interview to complete the series. That was scheduled for tomorrow, and she already knew it would be a very different tone than today’s. Quirky. Confident. Chaotic, probably.

Smiling to herself, she leaned back in her chair. Across the room, Harua spun lazily in his own chair, clearly waiting for the clock to hit closing time. “So,” he said, “this chef girl, (Y/n), right? What kind of food are we talking about?” Aya gave him a knowing grin. “The kind that makes you forget your name for a second.” He raised an eyebrow. “That good?” “That good.”

By the time the sun was setting behind the office towers, the place had gone quiet. Aya saved her document, packed up her things, and stood, stretching with a contented sigh. Harua met her by the door, slinging his bag over one shoulder. “You think she’d let the whole pack eat there? You know how we are.” “She gave me her number,” Aya said casually. “Told me to text when we want to come by.” Harua whistled. “She’s brave.”

They stepped outside just as a familiar car rolled up to the curb. Kei leaned out of the driver’s side window, grinning as he caught sight of the two of them full-on sprinting down the steps, chasing each other like kids. Aya squealed when Harua nearly tagged her, then spotted the car and made a break for it. “I call front seat!” Kei laughed, watching her wave like a maniac before flinging herself into the front seat. Harua groaned dramatically as he opened the back door.

“She only wins because you’re in love with her.” “You’re just slow,” Kei called back. Aya beamed, breathless, as she buckled in. “Thanks for the pickup.” Kei glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, a soft smile on his lips. “Always.” As they pulled away from the curb, the car filled with warmth and laughter, and for a brief, golden moment, everything was still perfect.

~~~

The house was warm when they arrived, filled with the scent of dinner wafting from the kitchen, laughter spilling from the living room, and the gentle clinking of plates being set on the table. The kind of domestic chaos that made the place feel alive.

Aya stepped inside first, kicking off her shoes, her cheeks still flushed from the ride home. Harua followed close behind, already calling out a half-joking complaint about having to sit in the backseat. Kei brought up the rear, tugging the door shut behind them. And then…

A sound. Sharp. Guttural. Ferocious. Aya froze in the doorway. Yuma had been halfway across the living room, laughing at something Taki had said. But the second Aya crossed the threshold, his entire body went rigid. His head snapped toward her, eyes blown wide, pupils dilated, his nose twitching in the air like he was tracking prey.

The sound he made wasn’t human. A half-snarl, half-gasp, like something tearing through his throat. He stumbled forward a step, then another, drawn toward her with a force he couldn’t control. Kei moved fast. He slid in front of Aya, hand braced against her stomach to keep her behind him, eyes locked on Yuma.

“Yuma, stop.” But the younger wolf didn’t seem to hear him. His eyes were locked on Aya, or rather, the scent she carried. The trace of someone else. Someone new. Someone important. Footsteps thundered from the hallway as EJ emerged, shirt half-buttoned, tension radiating off him in waves. “What the hell is going on?” he demanded, then saw Yuma’s expression. He didn’t wait. He moved fast, throwing an arm across Yuma’s chest, trying to pull him back. But Yuma was too strong, surging forward with a force that even EJ struggled to match.

“I need to know,” Yuma gasped, his voice wild, almost disoriented. “I need to find her,” Aya’s heart was racing. Kei’s was worse. Because he’d seen this once before. In the mirror. When he had first scented Aya on Harua. And he knew exactly what Yuma was feeling. His mate.

Yuma wasn’t slowing down. Not even with Kei in front of him or with EJ holding him. The scent was all over Aya, soft, warm, unfamiliar, but something deep inside him knew it. Recognized it like a star finding its place in the night sky. His wolf was pushing forward with reckless urgency, desperate to follow it to the source.

EJ’s voice cut through the chaos like a blade. “Yuma.” No response. “Yuma, stand down.” Still nothing. His eyes had gone golden now, flickering with the primal glint of something not fully in control. He wasn’t himself. Not entirely.

And then, EJ dropped his voice lower. Deeper. His eyes turning a blood red. His voice hit the air like gravity. “Yuma, ENOUGH.” The Alpha voice. Rare. Commanding. Impossible to resist.

Yuma stopped mid-step, every muscle in his body locking into place as if frozen by something ancient and sacred. His breathing came in sharp, shaky bursts. His eyes fluttered, returning slowly to their usual brown, the gold retreating like the tide. His shoulders slumped forward slightly. The light in him, dimmed.

“I-” he managed, his voice rough, unsteady. “I’m sorry.” Kei hadn’t moved. He still stood protectively in front of Aya, one arm half-extended, ready to shift if he had to. His other hand curled around Aya’s, holding it tightly. She stood behind him, stiff with shock, her heart thundering in her chest.

“Is she okay?” Yuma asked quietly now, not daring to move another inch. “She’s fine,” Kei said tightly, not unkind, but firm. Protective. “You scared her.” Yuma closed his eyes, the shame crashing down in waves. “I didn’t mean to. I couldn’t… I didn’t know.” EJ exhaled hard, running a hand down his face. “You need to go to your room. Now. Let your wolf settle.” Yuma nodded once and backed away slowly, his steps careful, like he didn’t trust his own body not to betray him again.

The rest of the pack remained still, watching with varying degrees of concern, confusion, and quiet sympathy. Because they all knew Yuma. They knew how big he loved, how deeply he felt. But no one, not even EJ, had expected this. Once Yuma disappeared down the hallway, the weight in the room finally lifted.

Kei turned toward Aya, her hands still trembling. He caught her in his arms instantly, pulling her close and pressing his face into her hair. “It’s okay,” he whispered gently. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.” She nodded into his chest, but her eyes remained on the hallway where Yuma had vanished. Somewhere, someone had just changed everything.

~~~

Two hours passed before the door to Yuma’s room creaked open. The air in the house had settled, but not completely. The tension still lingered in the corners, like smoke after a storm. In the living room, the boys were quieter than usual, speaking in low murmurs as they tried to go about their routines.

Yuma stepped out with hesitant steps, his hair a mess, eyes red-rimmed and tired, but most of all, human again. The wildness had faded, his wolf finally worn out after hours of pacing, howling, and crashing against the inside of his mind like waves on rock. He didn’t make a show of it. No dramatic entrance. No jokes to smooth things over. Just quiet steps across the floor until he saw her.

Aya. Still sitting with Kei on the couch, tucked into his side. She hadn’t moved from him since the incident. Kei’s arm was draped protectively around her, his expression still guarded, his posture alert. The Alpha voice may have settled Yuma’s wolf but his still hadn’t fully relaxed.

Yuma stopped a few paces away. Kei saw him first. His jaw tightened. There was a low, nearly inaudible rumble in his chest, a warning. Not quite a growl. But close. Then he saw the look in Yuma’s eyes. All the heat drained from him. Yuma looked wrecked.

“I just want to talk,” Yuma said, voice soft. Aya glanced at Kei, who looked back at her, clearly reluctant to let her go. But she placed her hand gently over his and stood. Yuma didn’t meet her eyes at first. He moved down to the floor, sitting cross-legged in front of her like a child waiting to be scolded.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I wasn’t trying to be weird or intense or, any of that. I just… I caught the scent and my wolf took over. I didn’t even know what was happening until it was already too much. I swear, I’d never hurt you.”

Aya looked at him quietly for a moment. The others had stilled behind her, watching from doorways, kitchen counters, even the stairs. Then, to Kei’s silent protest and clenched jaw, she crouched down and wrapped her arms around Yuma. He froze, utterly, completely still.

Then his breath shuddered out of him, and his hands gently gripped the back of her shirt like she was the only thing holding him together. “It’s okay,” Aya whispered. “I know it wasn’t your fault.” Behind her, Kei stood stiff as stone. It went against every protective instinct in him to let her get that close, but he also knew Yuma. And right now, what Yuma needed wasn’t discipline. It was grace.

Aya pulled back slightly, just enough to meet Yuma’s eyes. “Next time, maybe just lead with a ‘hello,’ yeah?” Yuma let out a soft, broken laugh, nodding quickly. “Yeah. Got it. Definitely.” He didn’t say it out loud, but everyone could feel the shift. This wasn’t the moment everything was fixed. But it was the moment it started to heal.

~~~

The next morning came quietly. Harua headed off to the magazine like usual, but for once, Aya didn’t go with him. Instead, she found herself in the passenger seat of Yuma’s car, watching the city roll by as he drove them toward his design studio for the second interview in her article series.

Yuma was unusually quiet. Not in a sulking or dramatic way, just quieter than usual. His hands were steady on the wheel, but his shoulders carried a tension that hadn’t quite lifted since the night before. Aya didn’t press him on it. She figured he needed space to sort through his feelings. He’d apologized. She believed him. And she didn’t want him to think he was walking on eggshells.

When they finally pulled up outside a sleek, glass-fronted building tucked between two tall brick storefronts, Aya followed him out and up the stairs. He unlocked a black door on the second floor, pushed it open, and stepped aside to let her in.

Aya expected chaos. Fabric everywhere, threads tangled across every surface, maybe even a coffee-stained sketchbook buried under a pile of shirts. But what she saw stopped her in her tracks. The studio was spotless.

Bright light streamed in from the tall windows, flooding the space with warmth. A long wooden table sat in the center, covered neatly in sketches, swatches, and tablets. Racks of clothes were organized by style and color, not a single hanger out of place. The walls were painted a soft neutral tone, but bursts of vivid color popped from framed fashion prints, bold fabric panels, and accent pieces. A large black-and-white print of an abstract wolf’s silhouette hung above the desk, subtle, but telling.

It was clean. Controlled. Creative. And yet undeniably Yuma. Aya stepped inside slowly, turning in a slow circle to take it all in. “I thought it’d be messier,” she admitted. Yuma gave a small, sheepish laugh as he set his bag down near his desk. “Yeah, I get that a lot,” he said. “People always assume because I’m loud, my space is too. But I like order. Structure. I need things to be just right when I work.”

Aya smiled, turning to face him. “It’s beautiful, Yuma. Really.” His gaze softened, and the tension in his shoulders eased just a little. “Thanks. I, uh, I put a lot of myself into it.” She could see that now. It wasn’t just a studio, it was a piece of him. “Shall we get started?” she asked, pulling out her notebook and phone. Yuma nodded and gestured toward a pair of plush chairs near the corner window. “Let’s.” And just like that, something between them began to mend. Quietly. Naturally. One stitch at a time.

Aya set the recorder down on the table beside her, thumb hovering over the button. But as her gaze lifted, drawn once again to the stylized silhouette of a wolf that loomed just above Yuma’s workspace, she paused.

Something about it felt too real. Too honest. She lowered her hand. “Actually,” she said softly, “I think we’ll do this one off the record. Your story, it deserves a bit more care.” Yuma blinked, caught off guard. “You sure? I don’t mind if you record it.” “I know. But I want to hear it. Just hear it. I think I’ll write it better that way.” Yuma smiled faintly, something fragile in the curve of his lips. “Alright. No filter then.”

He leaned back in his chair, hands folded in his lap, eyes drifting upward, maybe at the ceiling, maybe at the past.

“I didn’t have much growing up,” he began, voice low but steady. “My parents did what they could, but we were broke. Like really broke. They worked odd jobs, moved around a lot, trying to stay ahead of anything that might find us. I think they were trying to protect me. Keep me away from the worst of the world.” Aya said nothing, just listened.

“But that doesn’t always work, you know?” He smiled again, but this time it didn’t reach his eyes. “Eventually, some hunters found the small pack we’d been living with. It wasn’t even a real village, just some half-done cabins strung together out in the woods.” He swallowed hard. “They came fast. I ran. I was barely ten. I didn’t even know where I was running to, just away.”

Aya’s heart clenched. “I waited for them to find me. I waited for days.” Yuma’s voice was barely more than a whisper now. “But no one came. So I stopped waiting.” His eyes dropped to his hands.

“I started building things. Hiding places, shelters. I’d stitch together scraps, old curtains, fabric from abandoned houses, whatever I could carry. I learned to make clothes because no one else was going to do it for me. At first, it was survival. Then it became something else.”

His gaze lifted again, this time, to the racks of vibrant pieces lining the room. “Fashion gave me control. It gave me color when everything else felt so dark. I could choose the patterns. I could choose when something was bold and loud, or when it was soft and quiet. It gave me something that was mine.”

Aya exhaled slowly, her throat tight. “Yuma, I didn’t know.” “I don’t talk about it much,” he said, shrugging one shoulder. “But I guess, if anyone should know, it’s you.” She reached across the small space between them and placed a gentle hand on his arm. “You built a life,” she said. “And it’s beautiful.”

Yuma looked at her, really looked at her, and for a moment, the usual spark in his eyes softened into something quieter. Something deeper. “Thanks,” he said. “That means more than you know.”

Yuma exhaled through his nose, glancing out the window before continuing, his voice steadier now, though still threaded with something deeper. “When the pack found me, it was like breathing real air for the first time. EJ, Fuma, the others, they didn’t look at me like I was broken. Just lost. And I think that was what I needed most.”

Aya sat quietly, watching the way his hands moved as he spoke. Not fidgeting, just expressive. Deliberate. “I made a promise to myself back then,” Yuma said. “That if I got a second chance at living, I was going to live it bright. Loud. Honest. Even if it scared people off sometimes.”

He smiled to himself. “I don’t want to reach the end of anything and regret not feeling enough. Not loving enough.” He leaned forward a bit, eyes warm with conviction. “That’s why I make clothes. Because there’s nothing more vulnerable, or more human, than creating something with your hands and saying, ‘Here. I made this. I thought of you.’”

Aya felt her chest tighten. “I started with the boys,” Yuma continued, gesturing toward a clothing rack in the corner, where a few more rugged, casual pieces stood. “Making things that felt like them. Pieces that said, ‘I see you.’ And then Kei, well, Kei started modeling, and things just sort of snowballed after he once wore one of my outfits as he showed up at the set, the stylist was intrigued and wanted to know where he got it,”

He laughed, sheepish. “Suddenly people wanted more. I released a few pieces online, and next thing I knew, I was getting calls from stylists, showrooms. It was surreal.” “And now you’ve released two full collections,” Aya said softly, awed. Yuma nodded. “Yeah. They did better than I expected. I still feel like I’m faking it half the time, but” He shrugged. “The clothes speak for themselves. They always have.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The studio was quiet except for the hum of the city outside the window and the faint creak of wood beneath their chairs. Aya finally reached for her notebook again, though she hadn’t written a single word. “I think,” she said, “this might be the most important story I’ve written so far.” Yuma grinned, though it was softer than usual. “Guess you better write it well, then.” “I always do.”

As Aya stood to leave, slipping her notebook and pen back into her tote bag, she hesitated. Yuma noticed. “You okay?” he asked, tilting his head, a touch of concern in his eyes. She looked over at him, lips pressing into a thoughtful line. “Before I go, I think we need to talk. About last night.”

Yuma’s expression faltered. He looked down, fingers loosely tangled in the fabric of his pants. “Right, yeah.” Aya stepped closer, stopping just beside his chair but not sitting again. “I’m not mad at you,” she said softly. “You scared me, yeah, but not because I thought you’d hurt me. I just didn’t understand what was happening.”

He nodded slowly, not quite meeting her gaze. “I know,” he murmured. “I didn’t understand either. Not really. It was like my body moved before my mind could even catch up. I’ve never felt something so, urgent.” Aya’s voice warmed. “That’s why I wanted to say something. Because if that girl I interviewed yesterday, if she is the one your wolf reacted to, I think she could be good for you.” Yuma finally looked up at her, surprised. “You do?”

Aya smiled, small and knowing. “She’s grounded. Calm. Thoughtful. But there’s something bright about her, too. The way she talked about her food, the way she lit up when she spoke about her friends, she just reminded me a little of you.” He laughed under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “You sure she won’t find me too much?” “I think,” Aya said, reaching out and squeezing his shoulder gently, “that if you love her the way I know you will, it won’t matter.”

Yuma blinked, chest tightening at the weight of her words. “I don’t even know her name,” he whispered, a laugh breaking through the ache in his throat. “But I swear, Aya, I already know I’ll love her more than anything in this world.” Aya’s smile widened as she stepped back toward the door. “Then I hope she’s ready.” And with that, she left, leaving Yuma in the soft quiet of his studio, heart a little steadier than it had been the day before.

~~~

Three days later, Aya sat at her desk, fingers hovering over the keyboard as the final few lines of her article fell into place. She read it back one last time, both pieces side by side, before finally, finally hitting send. A deep breath left her chest. Done.

Her supervisor called her into their office that afternoon, holding a printed draft in one hand and a steaming cup of tea in the other. “This,” the woman said, eyes scanning the final paragraphs, “is exactly the kind of story we need more of.” Aya blinked, caught off guard by the praise. “It’s emotional. Human. You didn’t just write about success, you wrote about what it costs to get there. What it’s rooted in. I could feel both of them on the page.” Aya smiled, heart warm with relief. “Thank you.”

The first half of the article centered around Y/n, the young chef who found comfort in the kitchen after growing up in a storm of instability. Her relationship with food had started with love from her grandfather, but Aya had captured the unspoken truth beneath it: that food became her way to protect others in a way she hadn’t been protected herself.

The second half, Yuma’s half, was just as raw. Aya had been careful with his story. She couldn’t write about werewolves, obviously, but she’d managed to keep the heart of it intact. She wrote about the boy who lost everything and still chose to live loud. Who created light out of scarcity. Who found a new family and built something beautiful from the wreckage. She hadn’t exaggerated a word. She hadn’t needed to. And now, with the story set to publish early next week, Aya felt a gentle sense of closure.

~~~

That night, after dinner had been cleared away and the pack was lounging in their usual way, half-sprawled across couches, others picking at leftovers in the kitchen, Aya stood up with a grin. “I have something to share.” The boys turned toward her, a few eyebrows raising in curiosity. “My article’s officially done. Both profiles. It’ll be published next week.”

Cheers erupted immediately. Maki whooped from the kitchen, and Harua spun a fork in celebration. Even Jo grinned over the top of his sketchbook. “You wrote about Yuma, right?” Taki asked, leaning forward.

Aya nodded. “Yuma and that young chef I interviewed a few days ago. Her name’s (Y/n). I was thinking maybe we should go to her restaurant tomorrow night? Celebrate a little?” That got everyone’s attention. “You had me at ‘chef,’” EJ said, already pulling out his phone. “I’m in,” Fuma added. “As long as there’s dessert.” Harua added. Kei reached over, squeezing Aya’s hand. “I’ll go wherever you go.”

Aya laughed and texted (Y/n) before anyone could change their mind. Hey! Do you possibly have a table for ten tomorrow night around seven? Would love to bring my boyfriend and his brothers to try the food! The response came quickly: Of course! I’ll make sure you have a special table. Looking forward to finally meeting the whole gang, especially the mysterious boyfriend ;)

Aya smiled to herself and looked up. “We’ve got a reservation at seven.” The pack cheered again, voices overlapping as they speculated what dishes might be served. But one person didn’t join in the noise. Yuma.

He sat a little quieter than usual, arms folded over his chest, his gaze fixed somewhere far away. Aya noticed. So did Kei. “What’s up?” Aya asked gently, approaching. Yuma hesitated, then met her eyes. “What if, what if she’s the one?” Aya tilted her head. “(Y/n)?”

He nodded slowly. “I don’t know for sure. But when you came home after meeting her, something happened in me. And if it’s her, what if I lose control again? What if I mess it all up before it even starts?” Kei stood and placed a firm hand on Yuma’s shoulder. “You won’t,” he said. “ We’ll be there if you need us to help you, just because I overreacted doesn’t mean you will, just remember to breathe, okay?”

Yuma tried to smile, but it came out more like a grimace. Still, he nodded. “I just, I hope my heart doesn’t get ahead of me.” “Too late for that,” Maki called from the kitchen, grinning. “Your heart is always ahead of you, Yuma.” Laughter rippled through the room, and for a moment, it lightened the air. But as Yuma leaned back into the couch, eyes drifting toward the window and the stars beyond, a single thought echoed in his mind: Please let her be mine.

~~~

The next day dragged on like molasses. Yuma’s nerves were at a record high, and it showed. He dropped pins, knocked over fabric bolts, and somehow managed to spill tea on a mood board. Twice. His colleagues exchanged glances behind his back. But they didn’t ask questions. Yuma was a little odd sometimes, passionate, intense. Today was just, more of everything.

By the time he got home, the sun was low in the sky and the scent of cologne and hairspray lingered thick in the air. Everyone in the pack was getting ready for dinner. Everyone except Yuma. He was standing in front of his closet, unmoving, staring at a dozen perfectly styled outfits like none of them were good enough. Again.

Fuma leaned in the doorway, arms crossed. “You know, for a fashion designer, you’re kind of a disaster right now.” Yuma flinched. “I know. I’m trying to calm down, I just… what if I screw this up again?” Fuma sighed and walked into the room, placing a firm hand on Yuma’s shoulder. “I know you think you’re the only one who’s ever felt like this,” he said gently, “but I promise you, you’re not.”

Yuma looked at him, skeptical. “I’m terrified too,” Fuma admitted. “The idea that there’s one person out there who’s meant for you? It’s overwhelming. And beautiful. And terrifying. All at the same time.” Yuma swallowed. “What if I say too much? Or act weird? Or she just… doesn’t want me?” Fuma’s hand squeezed his shoulder. “Then you try again. And again. And again. Because if she’s your mate, she’s not here to fix you. She’s here to fit you. Just like you are here to fit her. With all your color and chaos and feelings.”

Yuma’s breath hitched, and then, finally, he let out a slow, steady exhale. “Okay,” he whispered. “Okay.” “Now put something on,” Fuma said with a small grin. “We’re going to be late.” Yuma cracked a smile, reaching for a sleek black button-down, stitched with warm gold thread along the cuffs forming the shape of the moon from the night he was born. Understated, but his. Carefully chosen.

The drive into the city had been loud, typical of the pack. Taki called controlled the music, Nicholas offered unsolicited restaurant trivia from his phone, and Harua nearly choked on a piece of gum from laughing too hard. Aya, nestled beside Kei in the passenger seat, just smiled through it all. In the other car, Maki controlled the music, Jo and EJ were sleeping, Fuma was driving carefully behind Kei, but Yuma? He just sat in silence, the world was blurry out the window, his mind too worried about what might happen.

Now, standing outside the doors of Koyomi, even the laughter and chatter of the pack faded into the background. His palms were clammy. His heartbeat thundered in his ears. He swore he could feel his pulse behind his eyes. He was shaking. Fuma noticed first, stepping closer to lay a steadying hand on Yuma’s shoulder. His grip was firm, grounding.

“It’ll be okay,” Fuma said quietly, his voice low enough that only Yuma could hear. Yuma nodded, tightly. He wasn’t sure he believed it, but he was glad Fuma was there. He was always the calm one, the one who knew how to be quiet in the storm. Right now, Yuma needed that more than ever. He inhaled deeply through his nose.

EJ opened the door. The pack stepped into the restaurant like a slow-moving wave, 9 wolves in city clothes, laughter on their lips, hunger in their eyes, and a city girl. Yuma stepped over the threshold and was hit. The air was thick with scent. Fresh garlic sizzling in olive oil. Citrus from a nearby cocktail. Rose and amber perfume. Ink on linen menus. Wax from candles melting gently on tables. Wood varnish. Old brick. Velvet.

His knees nearly buckled. It wasn’t the strongest scent in the room; it didn’t roar above the rest. But it sank into him. Wrapped around him like silk. Something warm and heady, soft and spiced and utterly devastating. He knew it instantly. The bond tugged hard and fast, his wolf howled in recognition.

She was here. Somewhere in the tangle of people and voices and smells, his mate was here. Yuma’s breath caught in his throat. He reached instinctively for Fuma, who caught him without question, keeping him upright as the pull nearly dragged him forward. His chest burned. His eyes stung. And he whispered, almost to himself, “She’s here.”

The restaurant was softly buzzing, warm lighting glinting off wine glasses, low conversations blending with the soft hum of background music. The pack stood just inside the entrance, drawing more than a few glances as they clustered together near the host stand. Nine well-dressed men and a woman who walked like she owned their hearts, Aya always did stand out, even in a room full of elegance.

A young man approached, around their age, dressed neatly in a black button-up and apron, sleeves rolled just above his elbows. His smile was wide, welcoming. “Hi there, table for ten?” he asked. Aya stepped forward. “Yeah, I’m Aya. I messaged about the reservation?” Recognition lit up the man’s face immediately. “You’re Aya! Oh, (Y/n) told us about you. She said you were so sweet and that the interview went really well. I’m Jay, by the way, one of the co-owners.”

He extended his hand, and Aya shook it warmly. “Nice to meet you. And thank you for fitting us in.” “Of course,” Jay said, already gesturing for them to follow. “(Y/n)’s finishing up something in the back, but I’ll let her know you’re here. She said she wanted to come say hi personally.”

Yuma’s breath hitched. Jay’s scent was strong, closer to hers than anyone else’s in the room. Yuma’s wolf bristled. His instincts screamed at him to step forward, to put himself between them, to snarl and stake a claim on someone that hadn’t even been spoken yet.

But he didn’t. Instead, he took a breath. A deep one. Fuma, walking beside him, must’ve felt the subtle tremble in his fingers, because his hand rested lightly against Yuma’s back. Not forceful. Just present. Grounding.

Yuma clenched his jaw, nodding silently to himself as Jay led them deeper into the restaurant. Control. He had control. He would not make a scene. Not when he hadn’t even seen her yet. Not when he hadn’t even heard her voice.

~~~

Dinner seemed to blur in and out for Yuma, both too fast and too slow at the same time.

For the rest of the pack, it was heaven. The food was unlike anything they’d ever tasted, each dish better than the last. They ate like they hadn’t seen a proper meal in weeks, Maki and Taki ordering round after round just to “try one more thing,” Nicholas and Harua trading plates halfway through, EJ pretending to be patient but demolishing anything that landed in front of him. Jo as usual ate a lot of rice, and even though this was just rice, he swore it tasted better than the one they made at home.

The table was loud with laughter and clinking cutlery, the kind of easy joy that usually pulled Yuma right in. But not tonight. Not when his mind was fixed on the one person who still hadn’t appeared. Every time the kitchen doors swung open, his head snapped up. Every time a new voice sounded nearby, his chest tightened. But it was never her.

And now they were almost done. The table was littered with empty plates, crumbs, and the last dregs of wine. The others were leaning back in their seats, full and satisfied, waiting lazily for the bill to arrive. Yuma couldn’t shake the sinking feeling in his stomach. What if she didn’t come out at all?

Fuma leaned in, his voice low and even. “Hey. You’ve been quiet all night. Talk to me.” But Yuma barely registered the words. His gaze was fixed on nothing, his posture slouched, the weight of longing pressing heavily in his chest. The scent of her still lingered faintly in the air, a constant reminder of how close she was, yet somehow still out of reach.

From the head of the table, EJ glanced over. The Alpha didn’t need to be told what was wrong; he could feel it. The sadness was pouring off Yuma in waves, almost tangible. And suddenly, Yuma froze.

In a blink, he was upright, shoulders rigid, every muscle coiled tight. His eyes sharpened like a hunter’s, locking onto prey. The sudden movement was enough to silence the table. They all knew what it meant. He’d caught her scent. This time, it was fresh. Close. Moving toward them.

The shift in the pack was immediate, subtle, but trained. Kei straightened beside Aya, his arm looping protectively around her. Harua and Nicholas stopped mid-conversation, eyes darting toward the kitchen. Fuma’s hand clamped gently but firmly onto Yuma’s forearm, a silent reminder not to lose himself. EJ’s voice rumbled low, calm but commanding. “Breathe, Yuma.” Because if she was coming closer, they all had to be ready, ready to hold him back if his wolf decided to take control.

~~~ Earlier in the Kitchen ~~~

The kitchen was alive with motion, steam rising from pots, the sizzle of oil on pans, knives tapping in a steady rhythm. (Y/n) stood at her usual station, focus etched across her face as she chopped chives, stirred a bubbling sauce, then darted back to check a pan of sizzling fish.

She barely noticed Jay weaving his way through the chaos until he was right beside her, his expression sharp, urgent. “We need to talk,” he said, low and quick. “Now.” Her heart jumped, hands pausing mid-motion. “What is it? Did someone complain?” “No,” Jay shook his head, eyes flicking back toward the dining room. “Worse.” Her brows furrowed. “Worse than an unhappy customer?”

“That big group I just seated? The one with Aya, the journalist who interviewed you?” He hesitated, voice dipping quieter. “They’re werewolves.” (Y/n) blinked at him, the knife still in her hand, hovering above the cutting board. “You’re sure?” Jay gave her a look. “I can smell them. Definitely not human.”

That sank in fast. She knew supernatural folk existed, vampires, witches, fae, but werewolves? They were rare these days. Supposedly. Jay, of all people, would know. He wasn’t just any vampire; he was one of the rarer kinds, with senses sharp enough to catch details most others missed. If he said they were werewolves, then that’s what they were.

“Should I be worried?” she asked quietly, resisting the urge to peek into the dining room. Jay shook his head. “Most wolves keep to themselves. They’re not usually trouble. Honestly, it’s the vampires you should worry about, not them.” Still, his expression didn’t ease. “Then why do you look like you’ve swallowed glass?” she asked, lowering her voice further.

“One of them,” Jay admitted, “he’s unsettled. Agitated. His wolf stench more prominant. Like he’s holding back something.” (Y/n) swallowed, her knife finally clattering softly onto the cutting board. “Agitated how?” Jay’s eyes flicked back toward the door. “The kind of agitated that makes me want to keep an eye on him.”

Jay had made her promise. “Stay in the kitchen,” he’d said firmly before heading back out to the floor. “Don’t go out there unless I’m with you.” And she had agreed. At the time, it wasn’t a hard promise to keep, there had been plenty left to do. Dishes to finish, sauces to portion, prep lists to finalize for the morning. The rhythm of work kept her busy, kept her mind off the strange twist in her stomach.

But now, closing time was creeping closer. The stoves were off. The last plates had gone out. The prep was done. The kitchen was quiet, too quiet for her liking. And she was tired of waiting. How bad could a group of werewolves really be, anyway?

She glanced toward the dining room door, chewing the inside of her cheek. She’d been working alongside Jay for years, and he was a vampire. A rare type of vampire, no less. If she could be friends with him, if she could handle that truth without flinching, then why should a handful of wolves rattle her so much?

Jay himself had said it, werewolves were usually harmless. It was the vampires you had to worry about. She sighed, tugging at the knot of her apron. Still, she trusted him. If Jay said stay put, then she’d stay put. At least, for now. Her eyes drifted to the door again, and she pressed her lips together. She wasn’t sure how much longer her patience would last.

When Jay finally pushed back through the kitchen doors, his expression was tight but resigned. “Alright,” he said, brushing his hands against his apron. “Time to go greet them. It’ll look strange if you don’t.” (Y/n) exhaled, relief loosening her shoulders. “Good. I was starting to feel rude.” Jay shot her a look. “Just, stay close to me, okay?” She nodded, tying her apron a little tighter before following him out.

The restaurant had quieted some, the dinner rush mostly settled. A few tables lingered, but her eyes found the big group immediately, nine men and Aya, all gathered around a long table near the center. They looked comfortable, laughter and chatter spilling easily between them.

Aya’s presence lit her up instantly, (Y/n) couldn’t help smiling as she imagined telling her thank you again for the article, how much it might help bring even more customers through these doors.

But then, her steps faltered. Something twisted low in her stomach. It wasn’t nerves. Not exactly. More like a pull. A strange current that prickled across her skin the closer they got. She blinked, confused, scanning the table.

Most of the men barely glanced up. A few gave polite smiles. Aya beamed, lifting her hand in a little wave. But one pair of eyes, wide, bright, fixed entirely on her, made the air catch sharp in her throat. She didn’t understand it. Didn’t have words for it. Only that she had never, ever felt anything like it before.

Yuma’s world narrowed the second the kitchen doors opened. The scents of food, chatter, even his brothers, all of it faded into the background when he saw her. The girl walking out beside Jay. Her. His mate. For a heartbeat, he forgot how to breathe.

She was stunning. Not in the way magazines or runways sold beauty, but in a way that made his chest ache. Every movement of hers seemed lit from within, every expression pulling him in deeper. He knew, even if no one else did, that no one alive could ever compare.

Of course, maybe it was the bond. Maybe it was the wolf inside him whispering mine, mine, mine. But even through his own eyes, through his heart, it was true. She was the prettiest woman he had ever seen. And then, her gaze flicked to his.

Something passed between them, sharp and undeniable. He saw the flicker in her expression, the subtle widening of her eyes. She felt it too. Maybe not the way he did, but enough to stun her, to make her pause.

Yuma’s wolf stirred, but not with the wild, feral edge from before. It was reverent. Quiet. Almost in awe. For once, it didn’t fight him for control. It simply looked with him, and in that silent unity, he knew without question: this was her.

Fuma shifted at his side, posture taut, ready. EJ’s sharp eyes flicked between them, shoulders braced in case Yuma lost it again. But Yuma stayed still. For once, there was no urge to leap, no reckless need to move too fast. Because he’d seen it, he swore he’d seen it. She had reacted to him. It was really her.

(Y/n) and Jay stepped up to the long table, and Aya was on her feet in an instant. “(Y/n)!” Aya’s smile was bright, warm, and she pulled her into a hug before she could even speak. (Y/n) laughed softly, hugging her back. But the sound barely covered the low rumble that slipped from somewhere at the table. A growl, quiet, sharp, and distinctly inhuman.

Her eyes flicked, just for a moment, in its direction. She didn’t need to guess who it had come from. Yuma. He was staring at her like she’d stepped right out of his dreams, chest rising and falling a little too fast. For a heartbeat, his wolf was showing.

But then Fuma, seated beside him, gave the subtlest nudge of his foot under the table. A reminder. A tether. And just like that, Yuma swallowed the sound down, his shoulders relaxing by force.

(Y/n) pretended not to notice, her smile steady as she pulled back from Aya. Play it off. Just play it off. They didn’t know she knew. They probably didn’t know about Jay either. Best to keep it that way.

“I’m so glad you came,” she said genuinely, turning toward the rest of the group. Aya beamed, gesturing broadly. “This is my boyfriend, Kei, or well, Yudai but he goes by Kei,” the tall one beside her inclined his head politely, “and his brothers.” (Y/n)’s eyes moved across the table, and one by one, the remaining eight young men offered greetings. Some polite, some more playful. Names stacked quickly in her mind, EJ, Harua, Nicholas, Maki, Taki, Jo, Fuma.

And then, last. He hadn’t looked away from her once, his gaze almost reverent as he finally spoke his name. His voice was bright, almost too bright, but there was a softness underneath. A tremor of something unguarded. “Yuma.”

(Y/n) clasped her hands lightly in front of her, her nerves easing when she asked, “So… how was everything? The food, I mean.” She wasn’t prepared for the chorus of voices that rose up at once. “It was amazing!” “Best meal I’ve ever had.” “Do you do takeout?”

But the loudest of all were Maki and Taki, who leaned forward across the table, eyes shining. “We’re not eating anything else ever again,” Maki declared. “Yeah, you’re stuck with us for life now,” Taki added with a grin. (Y/n) laughed, the sound bubbling up easily. Their enthusiasm felt genuine, boyish, and it flattered her more than any polished review could. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said warmly.

Aya chimed in, her smile proud. “The article comes out Monday,” she reminded, turning slightly toward (Y/n). “Hopefully it’ll give the restaurant a boost. Not that you seem to need much help, it’s already booked.” (Y/n)’s cheeks warmed at the praise, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Still, it means a lot. Thank you again, Aya.”

Around the table, the boys nodded in agreement, the mood light and comfortable, except for the one pair of eyes she still felt anchored to her. Yuma hadn’t joined in the teasing or the praise. He sat quieter than she expected, but not detached, his gaze lingered on her, steady, like he was memorizing the sound of her laughter. She glanced away quickly, pretending to fuss with the edge of her apron, but her stomach did that strange twist again.

(Y/n) gave the group one last smile, clasping her hands together. “You’re always welcome here. Just give me a little heads-up, and I’ll make sure there’s a table waiting for you.” The table lit up at her words. Maki and Taki exchanged triumphant grins, Nicholas muttered something about moving into the restaurant permanently, and even Kei gave a quiet nod of thanks.

Aya reached out, squeezing her hand warmly before letting her go. “We’ll hold you to that.” (Y/n) laughed softly, then excused herself, slipping back toward the kitchen. EJ rose smoothly from his chair, following Jay to settle the bill. The rest of the pack shifted, stretching, talking quietly amongst themselves. Fuma stayed seated beside Yuma, his sharp eyes steady. He was ready, ready to clamp a hand down, ready to anchor him, but he didn’t need to. Because Yuma was still. Too still.

He sat with his hands curled loosely in his lap, his posture deceptively relaxed, but his eyes, his eyes didn’t leave her. Not once. They tracked every step she took, the yearning etched there so raw it made Fuma’s chest ache just to see it.

Yuma wished, God, he wished, he could stand, chase after her, take her hand and just tell her. Tell her everything. That she was his mate. That she was the piece of him he’d been missing his whole life. That all the brightness he carried, all the love he had, was already hers if she’d only take it. It would be easier, wouldn’t it? To just say it. To stop hiding. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. So instead he sat there, silent, his wolf pressed tight against his skin, and watched her disappear back into the kitchen. And he waited.

Once Jay returned to the back, (Y/n) couldn’t hold it in anymore. She leaned against the prep counter, arms folded tightly. “Okay, I have to ask, what was with that one? The quiet one at the table. Yuma. He kept staring. It didn’t feel like he was being rude, just, it was weird. Is that normal for them? You know, wolves?”

Jay glanced at her, then away, his mouth twitching like he wasn’t sure how much to say. “I don’t know them personally,” he began. “Tonight was the first time I’ve seen that pack. But with wolves in general? There are a few reasons someone might act off.” (Y/n) waited, brows lifted.

“Well,” Jay continued, ticking the possibilities off with his fingers, “full moon’s close. That always messes with some of them, gets their instincts sharper, harder to rein in. Or maybe there was tension in the pack. If they fought about something before coming here, that could carry over.”

He hesitated, lowering his hand. “And sometimes- sometimes a wolf will act like that if they’ve found their mate but can’t, get to them, be with them. It drives them a little wild.” (Y/n) frowned, the word snagging in her mind. “Mate?” she repeated, her tone careful but sharp with curiosity. “What the hell is a mate supposed to be?”

Jay rubbed the back of his neck, finally giving in. “Alright. A mate, it’s just short for soulmate. For wolves, it’s not optional. It’s like fate’s already chosen someone to be the other half of them. Someone who’s supposed to balance them out, make them whole. It’s a once in a life time thing,” (Y/n) blinked slowly, letting that sink in.

Jay went on, lowering his voice like even in the kitchen someone might overhear. “I’d bet money that Aya and Kei are mates. Otherwise a wolf dating a human? Not common. They don’t usually risk that unless there’s a bond involved.”

(Y/n) tightened her grip on the edge of the counter. Her mind snagged on that word, bond. “So, you think someone in our restaurant tonight could’ve been Yuma’s mate?” Jay didn’t answer right away. His lips pressed into a thin line, as if he was weighing how much he should say.

“And what about you?” she asked quickly, almost tripping over her words. “Do vampires have mates too?” That one stopped him cold. His eyes flickered down toward the sink, and instead of answering, he grabbed a glass, filled it halfway, and took a long sip. When he set it down, he still didn’t meet her eyes.

Finally, Jay spoke, his voice quieter than before. “As for your second question, yeah. Vampires do have mates too. Not as often as wolves, but it happens.” His expression shifted, something wistful, something heavy. The kind of sadness that wasn’t loud, but lived deep under the skin.

(Y/n) caught it instantly. She had a hundred questions on the tip of her tongue, but something in his eyes told her not to ask. Her gut said the answer would be painful, maybe a story of someone he lost, or someone he could never have. So she swallowed the questions, letting the silence stretch just long enough before she asked the other thing weighing on her.

“And Yuma?” she pressed softly. Jay leaned back against the counter, folding his arms loosely. His gaze slid to the side, avoiding hers. “I can’t say for sure. I don’t know him, and I’ve never seen him before tonight. But, the way he reacted, the way his wolf was struggling,” He shook his head slightly. “Let’s just say, it wouldn’t surprise me.” It wasn’t a yes, but it wasn’t a no either. (Y/n) bit the inside of her cheek, unsettled by the vagueness, by the possibility.

~~~ A few days later ~~~

The bell above the door chimed, and Jay glanced up from the counter, fully expecting one of their regulars. Instead, the broad-shouldered figure that stepped inside nearly made him drop the stack of menus in his hand. Yuma. Alone.

Jay’s brows furrowed instantly. Wolves rarely went anywhere without at least one packmate, especially not into unfamiliar territory. For one to walk in solo, into his restaurant of all places, well, that meant something. His suspicions from the other night sparked back to life. Someone here had to be Yuma’s mate. And if his gut was right, that someone was (Y/n).

Jay’s jaw tightened. He wasn’t sure if he was more protective or just apprehensive. Werewolves weren’t inherently dangerous, not if they were stable, but he’d seen what a bond left unmet could do to a wolf. It could unravel them. It could make them desperate. And Jay wasn’t sure if (Y/n) was ready for that kind of weight, or if she even had the faintest clue what it meant to be on the receiving end of it.

Yuma spotted him across the dining room, his usual bright grin plastered across his face, but Jay wasn’t fooled. His eyes gave him away, too sharp, too intent. “Afternoon,” Yuma greeted, walking toward the counter with a kind of restless energy in his step. “Place looks busy. Guess Aya’s article did its job, huh?” Jay nodded, slow, careful. “It did. We’ve been packed since it went live.” His gaze flicked toward the kitchen, where (Y/n)’s voice floated faintly over the clatter of pans. And for the first time, Jay wondered whether he should step in, or if this was one of those things fate was going to bulldoze through whether anyone liked it or not.

As Yuma leaned casually against the counter, a strange scent hit his nose. Subtle, but sharp. Not human, not wolf either, something else. Something he couldn’t quite place. His brows furrowed for half a second before he shook it off. It didn’t matter. Not right now.

Because beneath it, stronger than anything else, was her. That sweet, addictive scent he could pick out of a crowd of thousands. It lingered in the air, tangled with the warm, savory notes drifting out of the kitchen. Food, spices, fresh herbs, and her.

His chest tightened, his wolf pressing against his skin, eager, restless. He hadn’t seen her since that night with the pack, and now that he was here, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could wait.

Jay’s voice broke his thoughts. “You looking for a table? Or?” Jay tilted his head, sharp eyes flicking over Yuma as if he was dissecting every move. Yuma smiled, wide and disarming, but his heart was hammering. “Not just a table. I was hoping to see the chef.” Jay’s lips pressed into a thin line. He didn’t move right away. The strange scent clung to him, nagging at Yuma’s instincts, but he forced himself to focus, to stay calm. Because all he wanted, all he needed, was to see her.

Yuma had always been bold. Bold enough to speak his mind, bold enough to throw himself into anything without hesitation, and now bold enough to disobey every word his alpha had given him. EJ’s warning still echoed in his head: take a step back, let fate guide you, don’t push. But patience had never been Yuma’s strong suit.

So here he was, standing in the middle of Koyomi, his wolf restless beneath his skin, determined to take matters into his own hands. He wasn’t going to talk about mates, wasn’t going to dump the weight of his world on her shoulders. He just wanted one thing, one simple, human thing. A date. A chance. But right now, there was something in his way. Or rather, someone. Jay.

The man leaned against the counter, arms folded, watching him with eyes too sharp, too knowing. That strange scent clung to him, irritating Yuma’s senses the longer he stood there. It didn’t help that Jay’s presence was clearly a shield, protective, like he was standing guard over what was his.

Yuma’s jaw tightened. His wolf bristled. “I said I wanted to see the chef,” Yuma repeated, tone a little firmer this time, though his smile didn’t waver. “I won’t take long.” Jay’s eyes narrowed. “She’s busy. And you,” He let the words hang, gaze flicking over Yuma with something close to suspicion. “don’t exactly strike me as someone who came here for the food.”

Yuma leaned in a little, lowering his voice. “I came for her.” He didn’t bother sugarcoating it. No reason to. “And I’m not leaving until I ask her.” For a moment, silence stretched thick between them. Yuma’s heart pounded, his wolf pacing, restless, ready. But Jay didn’t flinch, didn’t move, only studying him like a riddle he didn’t like the answer to.

Yuma’s chest rose and fell too fast, his hands curling into fists at his sides. He could feel it, the way his wolf clawed at him from the inside, demanding to break free. His vision sharpened, narrowed, and before he could stop it, the change flickered across his face. Brown eyes gave way to molten gold.

Jay’s gaze sharpened, but there was no shock in it. No gasp, no step back. Instead, the faintest curl of a smirk tugged at his lips, as if he’d expected this. And then Yuma saw it. Jay’s pupils bled into red. Not the deep scarlet of an alpha’s command like EJ’s, but a lighter, unmistakable shade. The kind that belonged only to one species. Vampire.

The strange scent, the sharpness in his stare, the way he carried himself, it all clicked into place. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Yuma muttered under his breath, baring his teeth just enough to make his point. “That’s what you are.” Jay straightened, voice cool and even, though his own fangs flashed sharp in the dim light. “And you’re exactly what I thought you were. Loud. Reckless. Dangerous.”

Yuma’s wolf pushed harder, gold burning in his eyes as he stepped closer, their energies colliding like flint and steel. His voice dropped, low and rough. “Stay out of my way.” Jay didn’t budge, his red eyes glowing faintly now, daring him. “Not a chance.” The tension snapped tight between them, both creatures ready to strike, wolf against vampire, instincts demanding blood. But before either could make a move… “Jay?”

The kitchen door swung open, and her voice cut through the air like a knife. (Y/n) stepped out, wiping her hands on her apron, brows knitting together as she spotted them standing far too close, both looking like coiled springs ready to snap. Jay immediately blinked back to human, the red gone from his eyes in an instant. He turned to her smoothly, as if nothing had happened. “Yeah?”

Yuma forced his eyes down, struggling to reel in the gold, his heart thundering. He couldn’t let her see. Not yet. But she had. And the way her gaze lingered on him told Yuma she’d noticed more than he wanted her to.

(Y/n) crooked a finger at Jay, her eyes narrowed dangerously as soon as he stepped within reach. “What the hell was that?” she hissed under her breath, her words sharp and fast like knives. “Fangs. In the restaurant. Are you insane?” Jay raised his hands defensively, leaning closer so only she could hear. “Hey, don’t pin this on me. He started it.”

“I don’t care who started it,” she shot back, her voice a furious whisper-yell. “You’re supposed to know better. You’re an owner here, Jay. What if a customer saw? What if Lila saw?” Jay grimaced, shoulders tense. “I was protecting you.” “By flashing your teeth at someone you don’t even know?” She shook her head, exasperated. “Unbelievable. You promised me, no feeding, no fangs, no slips in this place. I meant it.”

Jay bit back his reply, jaw tight. Neither of them noticed Yuma still standing a few feet away, his posture deceptively casual, but his ears tuned sharp. Every word slipped into him like a blade. She knows. (Y/n) knew Jay was a vampire. She wasn’t afraid of him. She even scolded him like he was just some reckless coworker.

And worse, she’d seen Yuma’s own slip. The molten gold in his eyes wasn’t something she could have missed. A cold wave washed over him. Did she lump him into a category now? Monster. Dangerous. A secret that shouldn’t exist. Yuma’s wolf bristled, restless, but all he could do was grit his teeth and look away, fighting the ache in his chest.

When Jay finally disappeared into the kitchen, shoulders still stiff with irritation, (Y/n) turned toward Yuma. She smoothed her hands over her apron, forcing the tightness from her expression before walking over.

“I’m really sorry about that,” she said softly, her voice a little weary but still warm. “Jay can be, um, protective. Overprotective, honestly. I hope he didn’t scare you off.” Yuma blinked at her, his chest tight. Protective. Right. If only she knew it was himself he was trying to protect her from right now. He shook his head quickly, words tumbling out before he could stop them.

“No, it’s fine. Totally fine. I, uh…” His throat felt dry, which was ridiculous. He could stand in front of crowds, make bold speeches to his pack, design pieces that turned heads, but asking this girl a single question? Impossible. Still, his wolf shoved at him from inside, refusing to let him walk away without trying.

“I was actually wondering,” he began, rubbing the back of his neck, “if you’d… maybe… want to go out with me sometime? Like a date. Or, or not a date, if that’s too much, just… something. Coffee, a walk, dinner. Or, wait, you make dinner. Uh,” He stopped himself before he spiraled further, cheeks warm.

(Y/n) stared at him, blinking, caught between surprise and amusement. Of all things she had expected, this was not one of them. For a moment, she thought about saying no, habit tugged at her, the instinct to protect herself from anything resembling closeness. But Yuma’s earnestness, the way his words tripped over each other, the way his golden-brown eyes shone with such vulnerable hope, it tugged at something inside her.

“Alright,” she said finally, her lips quirking into a small smile. “One date.” Yuma’s entire face lit up, brighter than the sun itself, his wolf howling triumphantly inside him. She wasn’t sure why she agreed, caution still buzzed in the back of her mind, but she couldn’t deny it. He was cute. And maybe, just maybe, she wanted to find out what hid behind all that light.

~~~

When Yuma got home that afternoon, it was like he carried the sun inside him. His steps were light, almost bouncy, his grin stretching so wide his cheeks must have hurt. The others noticed immediately.

He flopped onto the couch, barely able to sit still, his leg bouncing, his fingers drumming against the armrest. Taki plopped down beside him, raising a curious brow. “Alright,” Taki said, narrowing his eyes playfully. “You look like you just won the lottery or something. Spill.” Yuma’s eyes practically sparkled. He leaned closer, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper that was absolutely pointless since his excitement made him loud enough for the whole house to hear.

“She said yes!” Taki blinked. “She…?” “My mate,” Yuma blurted, unable to keep it in. “(Y/n)! She agreed to go on a date with me!” His words came out like fireworks, bursting one after another, and then he actually started bouncing in his seat, fists pumping the air. “I can’t believe it, she said yes, she actually said yes!”

Across the room, Kei let out a groan but couldn’t hide the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. Aya covered her mouth to stifle a laugh. Harua peeked around the corner, wide-eyed, while Nicholas shook his head with an amused snort. “You’re so loud,” EJ muttered, though there was fondness in his tone as he leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed.

“I can’t help it!” Yuma exclaimed, his grin splitting wider. “Do you guys understand what this means? She wants to see me again, me!” “Pretty sure the whole city understands what it means,” Fuma said dryly, but the warmth in his eyes betrayed how happy he was for the younger wolf. Yuma didn’t care. His wolf didn’t care. For the first time in days, he felt like he could fly.

Yuma was still buzzing, mid-ramble about how he was going to pick the perfect place for their first date, when suddenly his grin faltered. He sat up straighter, his eyes widening. “Oh. Right. There’s one more thing.” The change in his tone immediately drew the pack’s attention. Kei leaned forward, Aya tensing beside him. EJ’s gaze sharpened like a blade.

“What is it?” EJ asked carefully. Yuma scratched the back of his neck, chewing his lip, trying to figure out how to phrase it without making it sound like a big deal. “Well… Jay’s a vampire.” The room stilled. Fuma straightened in his chair, Kei’s jaw tightened, and even Maki and Taki, usually so loud, went eerily quiet, exchanging a glance. “And…” Yuma added quickly, “(Y/n) knows. About him. About me. About all of us.”

That set the older wolves on edge. Fuma’s eyes darkened, his expression unreadable. Kei immediately pulled Aya a little closer without thinking, protective instincts bristling. EJ let out a slow, measured breath, but the weight of it made Jo shrink back into his seat.

“Vampires aren’t like us,” EJ said finally, his voice low, careful. “They don’t always live by the same rules.” Jo hugged his knees to his chest, his wide eyes darting nervously to the windows. “They can do awful things,” he whispered. “Things we can’t fight.” Nicholas instinctively pulled Harua closer when the younger wolf reached for him, grounding him.

Yuma, though, he just sat there with a faraway smile, shaking his head. “Jay didn’t hurt her. He wouldn’t. And even if he did, (Y/n) wouldn’t let him. She’s strong. She’s…” His grin returned, softer this time, almost dreamy. “…she’s mine.”

EJ rubbed a hand down his face, muttering something under his breath in frustration. Kei caught Yuma’s gaze, steel meeting fire. “This isn’t a game, Yuma. If a vampire’s involved, and if (Y/n) already knows what we are, it changes everything. You need to be careful.” But Yuma only leaned back on the couch, unshaken, that lovestruck gleam refusing to dim. “I will be careful,” he promised. “But I’m not going to stop. She’s my mate. That’s all that matters.”

Aya stood quietly as the tension in the room thickened, her hand resting in Kei’s as if to anchor herself. She had grown used to the supernatural through him, but this, this fear in the boys’ eyes, was new. Finally, she asked the question sitting heavy on her tongue. “Why?” Her voice was soft, but it carried. “Why are you so afraid of a vampire?”

Silence followed, until Kei exhaled and leaned forward, his tone steady but grave. “Because vampires and wolves have been at war for almost as long as either of us have existed.” Aya blinked. “At war?” Fuma nodded, his expression grim. “We’re both children of the moon, both creatures of the night, but that’s where the similarities end. Vampires need blood to survive. They crave it. And when they first appeared, they took what they wanted. No one could stop them.”

EJ’s gaze darkened. “Until wolves came. We were strong enough to protect humans, strong enough to stand against them. For a while, the scales balanced.” Kei’s jaw clenched. “But over time, vampires grew stronger. They found ways to overpower us. Manipulation. Tricks. Poison. New powers. And then they nearly wiped us out.” The weight of his words pressed against the room.

Harua shivered, tucking himself closer to Nicholas. Maki and Taki exchanged one of their rare, serious glances. Jo buried his face in his knees, his usuall tall fram suddenly looking small and fragile. Fuma continued, his voice quieter. “The wolves who survived rebuilt in small packs. We stay together, we protect each other. But the war never ended. It only went silent. And when a vampire crosses our path…” He shook his head. “It almost always ends badly.”

Aya swallowed, her throat dry. Suddenly she understood the grief she had always seen flickering in their eyes. The boys didn’t just fear vampires, they remembered. “They killed your families,” she whispered, more realization than question. One by one, the boys’ gazes shifted away from hers. Confirmation in silence.

Aya’s chest ached. No wonder they were worried. No wonder they looked at Jay as a threat instead of a friend. To them, he wasn’t just a vampire. He was a reminder of everything they’d lost. But across the room from her, Yuma still had that stubborn, unwavering look on his face. He’d heard every word, and yet, he wasn’t swayed. Because to him, (Y/n) mattered more.

The room had gone quiet, the weight of history pressing down on all of them. But Yuma, restless as ever, couldn’t sit in the silence. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his voice more urgent than defiant. “I need you guys to listen. Jay and I… we almost fought.” That caught everyone’s attention. Kei sat straighter, his hand still wrapped tightly around Aya’s. Harua’s breath hitched. EJ’s jaw twitched, though he stayed quiet, waiting. Yuma continued, eyes flicking from one brother to the next.

“It was tense. My wolf almost slipped out, he saw it, my fangs, my eyes. And Jay… he didn’t even flinch. He bared his fangs right back at me. He’s definitely a vampire. But,” Yuma lifted his hand, palm open like he was offering them something fragile. “(Y/n) was there. She saw it all. She didn’t scream. She didn’t run. She scolded him, not me.” Maki frowned. “She… wasn’t scared?”

Yuma shook his head, the corner of his mouth twitching into the faintest smile. “Not at all. If anything, she looked… curious. Like she wanted to understand.” That smile faded as his voice lowered, more serious than they were used to from him. “Jay’s only problem is that he’s protective of her. Overprotective, maybe. If I didn’t know better, I’d think they were siblings. That’s all. He’s not trying to hurt me. He’s just… trying to protect her.”

The pack didn’t look convinced. Kei’s stare was sharp, Fuma’s arms crossed tight. Even Nicholas shifted uneasily. Finally, EJ stopped leaning against the wall, now towering over them all as he spoke. His voice was steady, calm, but carried the weight of finality. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe she isn’t afraid. Maybe Jay really is just being protective. But it doesn’t matter, Yuma.”

Yuma looked up at him, confused. “What do you mean?” EJ’s eyes glinted like steel. “I mean vampires always mean trouble. Doesn’t matter what face they wear. Doesn’t matter how they act. You don’t know who you can trust.” The words lingered in the air, heavy and cold, as EJ left to patrol, the front door clicking shut behind him.

Yuma sat in silence, his fists clenched, the fire in his chest warring with the warning in his alpha’s voice. He couldn’t let go. Not when he was so sure. Not when fate had finally handed him the one person who felt like home.

~~~

When the day of their date finally arrived, Yuma was a bundle of nerves hidden under a crooked smile. He had debated endlessly, cafés, restaurants, even the arcade that Maki suggested with way too much enthusiasm, but nothing felt right. This wasn’t just any first date. This was his mate.

So, he packed a basket himself, filling it with food he knew she liked (and some he hoped she’d like). Then, with his heart pounding, he led her into the wolf village’s forest.

At first, (Y/n) had been hesitant. The forest was quiet in a way the city never was, the air crisp, heavy with pine and earth. But as they walked deeper, she began to relax. Yuma, to his credit, didn’t push her. He talked just enough to keep her distracted—pointing out trees he sometimes climbed, showing her the little wildflowers tucked between roots, occasionally flashing that dazzling grin when she laughed.

Finally, they arrived at his spot. A small pond shimmered beneath the fading afternoon light, the water reflecting the orange and pink streaks of the sky. A soft breeze rustled the leaves overhead, carrying with it the scent of blooming wildflowers. Yuma spread out a blanket beneath a willow tree, his movements surprisingly careful, almost reverent.

“This is one of my favorite places,” he admitted, setting the basket down. “When everything feels too loud, I come here. It’s… quiet. Safe. Thought you might like it too.”

(Y/n) looked around, her chest tightening in a way she didn’t expect. The forest was serene, beautiful, untouched by the chaos of the world. She glanced at Yuma, noticing how his eyes seemed to shine brighter in the soft light, how his usual restless energy seemed calmer here, grounded.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered. And Yuma, sitting cross-legged across from her, couldn’t stop the grin that stretched across his face. Not because of the pond. Not because of the forest. But because she was here. They sat side by side on the blanket, picking at the food in the basket. At first, the only sounds were the rustling leaves above them and the quiet ripples of the pond whenever a breeze touched the water.

Yuma wanted to say something, anything, but for once, words seemed too heavy on his tongue. It wasn’t until he caught her sneaking a glance at him that he blurted out, voice softer than usual,

“So… you know about the supernatural?” (Y/n) stilled, her fork halfway to her lips. Slowly, she set it back down and looked at him. There wasn’t judgment in her gaze, not exactly, more caution. “Yeah,” she admitted after a beat. “I know. I’ve known for years.” Yuma’s brow furrowed. “How?”

Her shoulders tensed. She didn’t usually talk about this. But something about the way Yuma was looking at her, like her answer mattered more than the air he breathed, made her push the words out. “When I was younger, a vampire tried to attack me. I was stupid, walking home alone at night, and…” she trailed off, exhaling sharply. “Jay was nearby. He stopped it before it got worse. After that, he couldn’t exactly hide what he was from me. I’d already seen his eyes change, his fangs, you know everything that didn’t make him human.”

Yuma clenched his hands into fists against his knees, his wolf growling inside at the thought of her in danger, even years ago. His golden eyes threatened to flicker through, but he forced himself to stay calm. (Y/n) glanced away, adding quietly, “Since then, I’ve kept his secret. He saved my life. I guess it just… became normal, knowing. We grew closer, and eventually we became best friends,”

Yuma’s heart twisted. Her first experience with the supernatural had been violence. No wonder she looked at him with such careful eyes. But another part of him was oddly grateful, to Jay, of all people. If the vampire hadn’t saved her, she might not even be here.

(Y/n) toyed with a piece of fruit on her plate, then glanced up at him, her brows furrowed slightly. “Can I ask you something?” Yuma grinned, a little too quick. “You can ask me anything.” She hesitated, then said, “Were you… born a werewolf? Or… can people even be turned into one?”

Yuma chuckled softly at her cautious phrasing. “Yeah, I was born a wolf. My whole bloodline runs that way as far as I know. And yes, people can be turned, but it’s really rare. It takes a very specific set of circumstances, and even then, most don’t survive the process, I think last time we heard about a human being turned was like 50 years ago, and it involved a witch, so not really an authentic turning.”

“What is it like? Being a werewolf?” “What it’s like…” Yuma trailed off, glancing toward the rippling pond. He picked at a blade of grass, trying to find the right words. “It’s… life. My normal. I don’t really have anything to compare it to. I don’t know what it’s like to not hear everything within a mile, or to not feel my wolf pacing inside me, to feel the moon give me energy and life, to be bonded with the pack, we’re more than family, it’s indescribable.”

When he looked back at her, his smile was softer, more vulnerable. “But I like it. I like being a werewolf. It’s wild, yeah, but it also makes me feel… alive. Connected. Like I’m exactly who I’m supposed to be.” (Y/n) nodded slowly, her expression thoughtful. “That actually sounds… nice.” Yuma’s chest warmed at that, his wolf practically wagging its tail. She doesn’t hate it. She doesn’t hate me.

(Y/n) had been quiet for a while, chewing over his words as the forest filled the silence with the hum of insects and the ripple of water. Finally, she set her fork down and looked at him, her eyes steady.

“Yuma… can I ask one more thing?” He smiled brightly, happy she wanted to keep talking. “Of course. Ask away.” She hesitated, lips pressing together, then whispered, “Am I… your mate?” Yuma choked on the sip of water he had just taken, coughing violently as his eyes went wide. “W-what?” (Y/n) winced. “I’m sorry, I… I just,”

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, staring at her like she had grown a second head. His heart was hammering so hard he was sure she could hear it. “Who told you about that?” Her silence was answer enough. Yuma swore under his breath. Jay. Of course it was Jay.

He ran a hand through his hair, staring at the pond as if it could give him the right answer. He wasn’t ready to tell her yet, not so soon, but he also couldn’t bring himself to lie to her. Not about this. Finally, he turned back to her, his eyes softer, golden flecks shimmering in the brown. “Yes,” he admitted quietly. “You are.”

(Y/n) sucked in a breath, her whole body tensing. He leaned forward quickly, his hands twitching against his knees. “But listen, I know it’s a lot. I wasn’t supposed to tell you yet. You don’t have to… feel the same right away. Or ever, if you don’t want to. But… you asked, so I can’t lie to you.” His wolf whimpered inside him, terrified that he had just ruined everything, but Yuma held her gaze anyway, baring his truth.

(Y/n) sat frozen, his words sinking in. She had expected it, Jay’s hints had made it hard not to, but hearing Yuma say it out loud was something else entirely. A part of her felt a strange warmth bloom in her chest. He hadn’t lied. He hadn’t tried to dodge the question or feed her some easy excuse. For once in her life, someone had looked her in the eye and given her the truth, even when it clearly hurt him to say it. That meant something.

But another part of her was tangled in confusion. Her fingers toyed with the hem of her sleeve as she asked quietly, “What… what does that even mean? Being your mate?” Yuma’s expression softened instantly, like he’d been waiting for that question all along. He leaned forward a little, careful not to scare her, his voice hushed and warm.

“It means you’re the other half of me. The person fate chose for me. My wolf knew the second I saw you, even when I first caught your scent on Aya,.” His hand pressed against his chest, over his heart. “It’s not about ownership. It’s about connection. My soul… it recognized yours.”

(Y/n) swallowed, unsure how to respond. “So… I don’t get a choice?” Yuma’s eyes widened, and he shook his head quickly, panic flashing across his face. “No, no, you do. Always. Wolves don’t. We only get one mate, and if they don’t accept us…” He trailed off, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “But you, humans, you have a choice. I don’t ever want you to feel trapped. Not by me.”

The sincerity in his tone struck her like a chord she didn’t know she’d been carrying. She still didn’t understand everything, not yet, but at least he wasn’t hiding from her.

(Y/n) hugged her knees a little closer, her brows furrowed as she searched his face. “Okay, but… what about me? How would this affect me if I… if I let it happen? What does being your mate actually do to me?”

For the first time that evening, Yuma looked hesitant. His usual confidence, the brightness in his smile, faltered into something uncertain. He rubbed the back of his neck, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

“I don’t know everything,” he admitted softly. “When it’s wolf and wolf, it’s… clear. We share everything, scent, bond, even emotions if the connection is strong enough. But with humans…” He trailed off, searching for the right words. “It’s harder to explain. It’s still real, still unshakable, but it’s different. Sometimes it’s softer. Sometimes it’s slower. The bond has to grow on both sides.”

(Y/n) tilted her head. “So you don’t actually know what it would feel like for me?” He gave a sheepish smile and shook his head. “Not exactly. But Aya would. She’s like you. Human. She’s… living proof that it works. And she could explain what it feels like better than I ever could.”

Her chest loosened at that, because it didn’t sound like a trap. It sounded like an invitation. “So, you’re telling me,” she said carefully, “that I could talk to Aya, and she’d tell me what it’s like… being with someone like you?” Yuma nodded, a soft spark lighting in his golden-brown eyes. “Yeah. She’d be honest with you. She always is. And I want you to have that. I don’t want you to just take my word for it, I want you to understand it in your own way.”

Yuma glanced at his phone, eyes widening a little when he realized how much time had slipped by. The sun was dipping way lower, painting the pond and trees in warm shades of gold and red. He scratched his cheek nervously before looking back at her.

“It’s getting kind of late,” he said carefully. “I was gonna head home for dinner soon. If you want…” He hesitated, then pushed through. “You could come with me. To the village. My family, well, the pack, they’d love to meet you properly as (Y/n) and not just the owner of Koyomi. And Aya’ll be there too, so you could talk to her if you want. I’ll make sure you get home safe after.”

(Y/n) blinked, her lips parting. “Dinner with your entire pack? That sounds… a little intimidating.” His heart dropped, but he leaned in slightly, eyes soft and earnest. “You don’t have to. I just thought… it could be good. And you’d get your answers. Plus…” He gave a small, crooked smile. “Jo and EJ are cooking tonight. That’s a once-in-a-lifetime experience.”

She rolled her eyes at his attempt at humor, but when she looked back at him, she made the mistake of meeting his gaze head-on. His eyes weren’t glowing, but they carried that same quiet intensity, filled with patience and hope. Puppy eyes, damn it. Her chest tightened. Against her better judgment, she sighed and muttered, “Fine. But only because I’m curious. And hungry.” Yuma’s grin lit up the whole clearing. “That’s good enough for me.”

(Y/n) followed him through the clearing, eyes sweeping over the scattered cottages and the big, warmly lit house in the center. It didn’t feel like the kind of place she expected a pack of wolves to live, it wasn’t wild or cold, but alive, almost like a small village in itself.

“Wow,” she murmured, slowing her steps to take it all in. “It’s… bigger than I thought.” Yuma grinned, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. At first, everyone thought having our own little cabins would make sense. Space, privacy, all that. But…” His gaze softened, flicking toward the big house. “We’re wolves. We don’t actually like being apart that much. No matter how many houses we build, we all just end up in the same place.”

(Y/n) chuckled under her breath. “So the cabins are basically decoration?” “Pretty much,” Yuma admitted with a laugh. “Though Kei and Aya use theirs a lot now. But even they come over for dinner. Food tastes better when you share it.”

(Y/n) caught the wistfulness in his voice and found herself smiling despite the knot of nerves in her chest. She thought about her own apartment, quiet, empty, far too big for just her. The sound of voices spilling faintly from the big house tugged at something deep inside her, something she didn’t want to examine yet. Still, she nodded, trying to keep her voice even. “Well, I hope your pack likes guests.” Yuma’s grin widened, a little boyish, a little wolfish. “They’ll love you. Promise.”

Yuma pushed open the door, and (Y/n) was immediately hit with a wave of noise and the sharp scent of something burning. Voices rang out from the kitchen—someone accusing another of “murdering the avocado,” while from the living room came the sound of crunching as a boy lounged on the couch with a carrot in hand.

“Hey, Harua,” Yuma greeted casually, giving the boy a nod. Harua lifted his hand in a cheerful wave, grinning wide when his eyes flicked over to (Y/n). She felt heat rise in her cheeks under his curious stare, but Yuma kept walking, guiding her further inside. When they stepped into the kitchen, (Y/n) froze for a moment at the sight that met her eyes.

Inside the kitchen, (Y/n) couldn’t help but blink at the disaster in front of her. An avocado lay brutally hacked apart, still with its skin and pit inside as though someone had just gone at it with a knife and called it a day. On the stove, what looked like the charred remains of garlic and onions smoked angrily from the pan, filling the air with a sharp, acrid scent that stung her nose. Ingredients were scattered everywhere, half-chopped, untouched, or dropped in the wrong bowls, as if the kitchen itself had been caught in a food fight.

Several wolves were standing around, looking equally guilty and clueless, their voices overlapping in arguments about what went wrong and whose fault it was. The only one actually moving with purpose was bent over the stove, fanning the smoke and muttering under his breath as he tried to salvage what he could.

(Y/n) recognized him, he was either Maki or Taki, Aya had mentioned both names before, but she wasn’t sure which one. Whoever it was, at least he seemed determined to save what little was left.

All heads turned toward her the second she burst out laughing. The sound broke the chaos like sunlight cutting through storm clouds. To (Y/n), it wasn’t scary or off-putting at all, it was messy, homey, and honestly hilarious. God, these boys desperately needed someone to teach them how to cook.

With an amused shake of her head, she stepped up to the sink, rolling up her sleeves as though she’d done this a hundred times before. She washed her hands briskly, the water rushing over her fingers, before turning back toward the group.

“Alright,” she announced, her eyes glinting with determination, “I’ll save dinner.” Her gaze landed on the boy still struggling at the stove, clearly trying his best. “Do you want to help me, uh…” she hesitated, realizing she wasn’t sure of his name. He spared her a quick grin, wiping his hands on a towel. “Maki. I’m the youngest. Also the one with the most cooking knowledge around here.” He made a face. “But… that’s not saying much.”

(Y/n) smiled warmly, the edges of her chest softening. Something about this reminded her of when she was very young, standing on a stool in her grandfather’s kitchen while he patiently showed her how to chop vegetables without losing a finger. Maki was older than she had been back then, and she was no grandfather, but the familiar feeling of passing on comfort through food made her heart swell.

Yuma sat back, watching in awe as (Y/n) moved easily around the kitchen, sleeves rolled up and hair falling into her face as she directed Maki with a gentle but firm voice. She wasn’t commanding, she was teaching, explaining each step in detail whenever Maki asked why something was done a certain way. And the way she smiled while doing it, warm and patient, lit up the room in a way no lamp could.

Maki looked like he was soaking up every word, following her instructions with the kind of enthusiasm usually reserved for sparring practice. The chaos from earlier was gone, replaced by the sound of vegetables sizzling in butter and the bubbling of a stew that already smelled like comfort and home. Soon, the sharp tang of burnt onions was nothing but a memory, the air now thick with the rich, savory aroma of simmering broth and herbs.

Yuma’s chest tightened as he watched. The way she fit into the pack so naturally, teaching, laughing, cooking like she’d always belonged there, made his wolf rumble with satisfaction. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing that she already knew about their world. Maybe, just maybe, it would make everything easier.

Before long, the disaster kitchen had transformed into a miracle. Bowls of hearty stew were passed around the long table, steam curling into the air as hungry wolves dug in. The pack was loud and happy as always, Aya chatting beside Kei, and (Y/n) squeezed between Maki and Yuma, looking a little overwhelmed but smiling nonetheless. It wasn’t just stew they were eating that night, it was her presence. And Yuma thought he’d never tasted anything so good.

Aya leaned back on the swing, letting it sway lazily as she thought about where to start. Then she smiled, soft and a little embarrassed. “Well… I didn’t meet Kei first. I met Harua. He was the one who showed up at my office, bright smile, loud voice, practically glowing. He dragged me into this world without even realizing it. And then…” she paused, laughing under her breath, “Kei saw me one day, and he just, fell to his knees. Right there in front of me. I thought he was sick or something, but no… he was falling for me. Literally.”

(Y/n) chuckled despite herself, but she stayed quiet, listening intently. “After that, it was little things. He started showing up at my work with coffee, always finding excuses to be around me. I didn’t know what it meant then, but I knew he made me feel… safe. And warm. So I asked him out. We went on dates, laughed, talked about everything and nothing.” Aya’s voice softened. “And I kept waiting for him to kiss me, but he never did. Weeks passed, and I thought maybe he didn’t want me like I wanted him. I didn’t know it was because he was terrified I’d reject him once I knew the truth.”

Her smile dimmed, becoming tender. “When he finally told me, about being a wolf, about mates, I thought I’d be scared. But I wasn’t. Because by then, I already loved him. And the bond…” She exhaled slowly. “The bond affects humans differently. For us, it only really settles once we choose it, once we have feelings that can grow into it. But when it does… it’s steady. Strong. I don’t think it ever fades. At least, I hope not.”

(Y/n) found herself leaning closer, caught up in the story. Aya’s eyes softened in the moonlight as she added, “It’s not always easy. Living with nine guys who are loud, overprotective, and sometimes too much? It takes patience. And standing your ground. But it’s fun, too. They’re family. And with Kei…” her cheeks warmed, “…with Kei, every day I feel a little more connected. A little more like I belong here.”

(Y/n) smiled softly at Aya as they rose from the swings. “Thank you… really. For telling me all that.” Aya just squeezed her hand in reply, her eyes kind.

Inside, the house was lively again, voices and laughter echoing through the halls, but (Y/n) felt the heaviness of the late hour settling in her shoulders. “I should head home,” she said, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. “I took the bus here but…” she glanced at the clock on the wall, “…there aren’t any more running this late.”

Kei, who had been standing nearby, straightened immediately. “We’ll take you,” he said without hesitation. Aya nodded in agreement, adding, “It’ll give you a little space away from Yuma, too. He can be… a lot.”

(Y/n) laughed softly, grateful. “I’d appreciate that.”

Before they left, though, she turned back to Yuma. He was standing a little apart from the others, watching her with eyes so full of hope it almost hurt to look at him. Stepping closer, she took a breath. “I want to be clear,” she said gently. “I’m not rejecting you, Yuma. But… I’m not accepting you either. Not yet. I need some time first.”

For a moment, his wolf pushed against his control, desperate for more. But then Yuma’s face broke into the softest smile she had ever seen. He nodded, his voice quiet but steady. “Take all the time you need. I’ll wait. I’m just… glad you’re not shutting me out.”

Her chest tightened at the sincerity in his tone. She offered a small smile in return before following Aya and Kei out into the night. Yuma stood in the doorway long after their car disappeared down the road, holding on to the echo of her words. She wasn’t rejecting him. For now, that was enough.

During the quiet ride back to her apartment, (Y/n) kept her eyes on the window, the soft hum of the car and Aya’s quiet conversation with Kei barely reaching her. Her thoughts were too loud, tangled between Yuma’s earnest smile and Aya’s gentle words about mates.

She slipped her phone from her pocket, typing quickly before she could second-guess herself. Can you meet me at my place? I… need to talk. Jay’s reply came fast, almost immediate. I’ll be there. Might be a little after you, but don’t worry.

By the time Kei pulled up in front of her building, (Y/n) felt a knot of both gratitude and guilt tightening in her chest. Kei waited until she unlocked her front door and waved back at him and Aya, only then pulling away once she was safely inside.

For a moment, her apartment felt too quiet, too still. She was pacing, trying to decide what exactly she wanted to say, when a knock came at her door, sharp, familiar.

Opening it, she found Jay standing there, true to his word, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, eyes sharp but steady. “You okay?” he asked, stepping inside as soon as she moved out of the way. And just like that, she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

(Y/n) spoke in one long stream, as if letting the words spill before she lost the courage. She told him everything, the picnic by the pond, how Yuma had admitted the truth when she asked, how Aya’s story about Kei made her wonder what it would mean for her. She confessed that she had never felt as safe as she had sitting across from Yuma, not even with Jay who’d always been her anchor. And yet… that safety came tangled with fear.

Her voice faltered when she spoke of her parents, how their constant fights had carved into her the belief that love was fragile, temporary, a thing destined to break apart. How every relationship she had tried before ended in the same emptiness, reinforcing the lesson she didn’t want but couldn’t unlearn, that she wasn’t someone worth staying for.

“I don’t know if I can do it,” she whispered, twisting her hands in her lap. “I don’t know if I can give him the kind of love he needs. What if I can’t? What if I break him?” The silence that followed was thick but not uncomfortable. Jay leaned back on her couch, arms folded loosely, eyes half-shadowed in thought. He didn’t rush to fill the space, didn’t try to fix her fears with easy words. Instead, he just listened, really listened, his expression softer than usual, his crimson eyes steady on her like he was carrying the weight of her doubts with her.

He stayed quiet, giving her the rare gift of silence, of being heard without interruption.

When Jay finally spoke, his voice was low, almost too calm, too steady for the ache hidden beneath it. “A long time ago,” he began, eyes fixed somewhere beyond the walls of her apartment, “I met someone. Someone I loved.” (Y/n) sat up straighter. Something about the way he said it told her this wasn’t just any story.

“She was my mate,” he continued, the word heavier on his tongue than when he’d explained it before. “It doesn’t happen often for us, but it happened to me. She was human.” His fingers tapped once against his knee, restless, then stilled. “When I told her what I was… she was terrified. She couldn’t see past the fangs and the blood. To her, I was a monster. But I… I couldn’t give up. I spent years proving to her that I wasn’t. Years trying to show her that I could love her gently.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, something between a smile and a grimace. “And when she finally believed me, when she finally chose me back… she was taken. Another vampire. Wrong place, wrong time. I wasn’t there to protect her. By the time I found her, she was bleeding out in my arms.”

His eyes, usually sharp, softened into something raw and unguarded. “I begged her to let me turn her. To stay with me. But she refused. She said she didn’t want to live as a monster. So she died.” Silence pressed heavy between them, (Y/n) unable to breathe, unable to move.

Jay’s gaze flickered to hers then, a faint, almost impossible smile tugging at his lips. “After that, I thought I’d never care about a human again. I didn’t think I could. But then…” he gestured faintly toward her, “I found you. And somehow, my heart opened again. So, tell me, if I could find the strength to love after that, what makes you so sure you can’t?”

(Y/n) didn’t know what to say. Her throat felt tight, her hands gripping her knees just to keep them from shaking. She couldn’t imagine the weight of what Jay had just shared, couldn’t imagine losing someone like that. Suddenly, his sadness from before made sense. The shadow in his eyes every time mates came up, now she understood.

But the words wouldn’t come. When she stayed quiet, Jay continued, his voice soft, steady in a way that anchored her. “Having a soulmate,” he said, “is a beautiful thing. Even if it only lasts a second. It’s worth it. But you don’t have to accept everything at once. You can just… give it a chance. Take it slow. Yuma will understand.”

He leaned forward slightly, catching her gaze. “And I’m sure of one thing, no matter what you choose, Yuma won’t hate you for it. He isn’t built that way. If anything, he’ll be grateful you even tried.” Her chest ached. She bit her lip, then finally whispered, “Do you really think I’m strong enough to do this?” Jay’s answer came without hesitation. “Yes.” Just that one word, said with such conviction, it nearly broke her.

~~~

The next morning, (Y/n) sat on the edge of her bed with her phone in her hands, staring at Aya’s name in her messages. After a moment of hesitation, she typed out her request, asking if Aya could send her Yuma’s number. She wanted to talk with him.

Aya responded almost instantly, her reply warm and filled with little heart emojis, more than happy to share. She also asked softly if (Y/n) was okay. (Y/n) stared at the blinking cursor for a long time before answering: I think so. But I’m still not sure about everything. Aya’s reply came back quickly: That’s okay. Take your time. He’ll wait.

It eased something in her chest, knowing Aya understood. She saved Yuma’s number into her contacts, thumb hovering over the keyboard before she typed out a quick message: Hey, it’s (Y/n). Aya gave me your number. Can you stop by the restaurant sometime today? I’d like to talk.

For a while, there was no answer. Her stomach twisted, but she shook it off and got ready for work, slipping into her usual routine. By the time she opened the restaurant doors, the nervous weight still sat heavy in her chest, but at least the text was sent.

Hours dragged on, and still no reply. Every time her phone buzzed with an order notification or Lila’s playlist changing, her heart leapt, only to sink again when Yuma’s name wasn’t there.

So she buried herself in work. Chopping, plating, washing, writing down supply notes, anything to keep her hands busy and her mind off the gnawing anxiety. Lila, who had known (Y/n) long enough to read her moods like an open book, leaned against the counter as she watched her friend attack a pile of herbs like they were her worst enemy.

“You’re doing that thing again,” Lila said lightly, though her eyes were sharp. (Y/n) didn’t look up. “What thing?” “The thing where you stress-cut like you’re auditioning for a horror movie.” (Y/n) forced a laugh but didn’t answer. Explaining supernatural mate-bonds and werewolves wasn’t exactly an option, so she just muttered, “It’s nothing. Just… my head.” Lila didn’t push, though her brows knitted. She figured it was trust stuff again, (Y/n) had always been careful with her heart, especially after her past relationships.

Jay, on the other hand, said nothing at all. He had been moving through the kitchen with his usual calm precision, but he’d noticed every little shift in her expression. He’d noticed the way her eyes flicked to her phone whenever she thought no one was watching.

But he didn’t interfere. Their talk last night had been heavy, and he knew pressing her now would only add more weight to her shoulders. She didn’t need another lecture or another layer of advice. She just needed space, and the courage to face whatever answer was waiting for her, whenever Yuma chose to give it. So Jay simply passed her a glass of water and returned to his station. Silent support. Nothing more. And still, her phone stayed quiet.

Later that evening, the bell above the restaurant door chimed, and Jay instinctively straightened his posture, ready to greet another late-night guest. But the moment his eyes landed on the familiar figure stepping inside, a wave of déjà vu hit him. Yuma again.

For a second, Jay braced himself, ready for tension, fangs, or golden eyes, but none came. Yuma stood calm this time, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets, shoulders tight but eyes steady. “She asked if I could come by,” Yuma said, voice quieter than Jay expected. Jay studied him for a long moment before his lips curved into a small, knowing smile. “Yeah. She’s in the back. I’ll go get her.”

He turned toward the kitchen, but after two steps he paused and glanced back. His red eyes softened. “Be careful with her, Yuma. She’s strong, but also… fragile in ways you can’t always see. Don’t push her too hard. If you can give her the space she needs, I think she’ll surprise you.”

Yuma blinked, surprised by the sincerity in the vampire’s tone. He’d expected Jay to fight him at every turn, to guard (Y/n) like a dragon over treasure. But here he was, rooting for him, at least that’s what it felt like. A slow, genuine smile spread across Yuma’s lips. “Thank you. I will.”

Jay gave a short nod, then disappeared through the swinging kitchen doors to fetch her, leaving Yuma to stand in the dim glow of the restaurant’s evening lights, heart racing with anticipation.

As Jay pushed through the kitchen doors, he spotted (Y/n) at her station, sleeves rolled up, focused on arranging plates for the last of the dinner crowd. He crossed the room, his voice casual but carrying a hint of weight. “Someone’s asking for the chef.”

(Y/n) froze mid-motion, her hand hovering over a garnish of herbs. Slowly, she set it down and glanced toward the dining room. Her stomach tightened with a ripple of nerves as she followed her friend out of the kitchen. Who could it be? A regular? A food critic? Someone with a complaint?

Her eyes swept over the tables, searching, but Jay gently nudged her chin with two fingers, tilting her gaze toward the entrance. And there he was. Yuma stood just inside the doors, waiting, his posture almost uncertain, yet his presence filling the space effortlessly. The soft light from the overhead lamps caught in his hair, in the golden undertones of his eyes, making him look like he belonged in the glow of this place.

The tension in her chest loosened in an instant, and before she could stop herself, a smile tugged at her lips, warm, unguarded, relieved. He’d come. After all her worry, her overthinking, her pacing through the day, Yuma was here.

Before walking towards Yuma, (Y/n) turned and gave Jay a light swat on the arm. “You could’ve led with who it was, you know. Nearly gave me a heart attack.” Jay only chuckled, his fangs flashing briefly in amusement. “Worth it. Go on, I’ll handle the kitchen with Lila. We’ve got cleanup covered. You focus on him.” (Y/n) rolled her eyes but her cheeks warmed. She smoothed her apron absently, nerves twisting in her stomach as she took the first step.

Yuma’s whole face lighting up. He lifted his hand in a small, eager wave, the kind a boy might give his crush in high school, soft, unpolished, entirely genuine. His heart thudded in his chest, skipping a beat like a lovesick teenager who didn’t know what to do with his feelings. And though (Y/n) would never admit it, not even to herself, her own heart did the exact same thing.

“Hi,” (Y/n) said softly as she stepped toward him. “Hi,” Yuma echoed, his grin spreading wide just from the sight of her. She untied her apron, draped it neatly over the counter inside, then gestured toward the door. “Come on. Let’s step out for a bit.”

Yuma was quick to move, almost tripping over himself in his eagerness, but he still managed to hold the door open for her with a crooked sort of charm. (Y/n) gave him a small smile in return before they slipped into the cool night air.

For a few moments, they walked side by side in silence, the only sounds the hum of the city around them. (Y/n)’s thoughts circled endlessly. Why hadn’t he answered her text? Had she scared him off? But he was here… maybe he just hadn’t had the time. Still, the question weighed on her. Yuma noticed. He always noticed. The subtle shift in her scent, the faint edge of anxious energy rolling off her. His chest ached at the thought of her doubting him.

“I should explain,” he blurted, glancing at her with an apologetic look. “About your text… I didn’t ignore it. I swear.” (Y/n) tilted her head, waiting. “I was so excited when I saw your name pop up on my screen that I, uh,” his cheeks flushed as he scratched the back of his neck. “I dropped my phone. In a glass of water. And now it’s totally dead.” For a second, there was silence. And then, bright and clear, (Y/n) laughed. A sound so warm and unguarded it made Yuma’s chest feel like it might burst. He froze, drinking it in, and thought, I never want her to stop making that sound.

(Y/n)’s laughter faded, the sound still lingering in the air between them. She took a slow breath, her hands slipping into her pockets as they turned into the quiet of the park, the soft glow of lampposts reflecting off the gentle stream of the river.

“Yuma,” she began, her voice more serious now, “I wanted to talk to you because… I’ve been thinking a lot.” At her tone, Yuma’s heart skipped. Nervous energy surged through him, his wolf pacing inside, ears pricked, tail taut. He shoved his hands into his own pockets to keep them from fidgeting, eyes fixed on her like she was the only star in the night sky.

(Y/n) kept her gaze ahead, as if the words were easier to say when she wasn’t looking directly at him. “I want to give you a chance. That doesn’t mean I’m saying yes forever, or that I’ve figured everything out. It just means…” She paused, trying to find the right words. “It means I’m willing to try. To see if feelings can grow. To see if I can… get there.”

Yuma stopped walking. For a second, he just stood frozen, blinking at her, as if making sure he hadn’t misheard. Then joy rushed through him, so pure and overwhelming it felt like sunlight bursting out of his chest. His smile stretched impossibly wide, his eyes bright as he took a step closer, careful not to crowd her. “A chance?” His voice wavered with emotion. “That’s…(Y/n), that’s all I wanted. That’s all I’ll ever need.”

He let out a shaky laugh, unable to contain it, his happiness spilling over. His wolf quieted for the first time in days, soothed by the promise in her words. And though she wasn’t ready to admit it yet, a tiny flicker of warmth spread in (Y/n)’s chest at the sight of him so unashamedly overjoyed, because of her.

They walked in comfortable silence for a few minutes, the soft trickle of the river filling in the gaps. Fireflies hovered low in the grass, and (Y/n) found herself stealing glances at Yuma, who still looked like he couldn’t believe his luck.

But the curiosity that had been tugging at her finally slipped past her lips. “So… I have another question. A supernatural one.” Yuma grinned instantly. “Ask away. I like your questions.” She hesitated, then tilted her head at him. “Do werewolves actually… turn into wolves? Or is it more of a half-human, half-wolf thing? You know, like in the movies?”

Yuma chuckled, the sound warm and genuine. “Ah, the classics. No offense, but the movies really don’t get us right.” He glanced at her sideways, his eyes glittering with amusement. “Most of us actually turn into wolves. Real wolves. Just… very big ones. Like, bigger than anything you’ve ever seen in the wild. Stronger, faster, sharper senses, it’s our natural form, really.”

(Y/n)’s brows furrowed in thought. “So not a scary monster thing, then.” “Not unless you count having great fur as scary,” he teased, earning a small laugh from her before his expression softened. “But… it’s not always the same for everyone. Some wolves are born with defects that make it harder for them to shift all the way. They can only go halfway, so they end up kind of… stuck between forms.”

Her eyes widened. “Half-human, half-wolf?” He nodded, his smile gentling. “Exactly. Taller, stronger, with the wolf features showing, ears, a tail, claws, fangs. The eyes go gold too, well unless they’re an alpha. It’s… intimidating, but it’s still them. For some, that’s the only shift they can do. For others, like me, it’s a choice.”

“You can choose?” Yuma lifted his hand, flexing his fingers as if imagining the claws sprouting there. “Yeah. I can shift fully, which I prefer. It hurts less and feels more natural. But sometimes it’s easier to just go halfway, it gives me strength, sharper instincts, and I don’t have to completely leave behind… you know, the human part of me.”

(Y/n) studied him carefully, the way his smile softened as he spoke about something that clearly meant more than just biology to him. “Does it hurt? Shifting, I mean?” she asked quietly. Yuma’s chuckle was softer this time, tinged with honesty. “Always. Bones breaking, muscles tearing, everything rearranging. It’s not something you ever really get used to. But it’s part of who I am. And in the end… it’s worth it.” She hugged her arms around herself, shivering at the thought, but she didn’t look at him with fear. If anything, there was something like admiration in her eyes.

(Y/n) kept her gaze on the path ahead, her voice quiet but steady. “I think… I’d like to see it someday. Your wolf form. If you’re okay with it.” Her words were brave, but the small shiver that ran through her betrayed her. It was subtle, almost invisible, but Yuma noticed instantly. His body ran hot, naturally resistant to the evening chill, but she was only in a thin t-shirt. Of course she’d be cold.

Without a second thought, he slipped his jacket off, one of his own designs, tailored sharp but still cozy, and draped it gently over her shoulders. She blinked at him, startled, her fingers brushing the warm fabric as she pulled it tighter around herself.

“You don’t have to-” “I want to,” Yuma said softly, his lips curling into a smile. “Besides, it looks better on you anyway.” Her cheeks heated, and she quickly looked away, pretending to focus on the way the lamplight danced across the river.

“As for seeing my wolf…” He slowed his steps, choosing his words carefully. “If you really want to, I’ll show you. No hesitation. But only if you’re completely sure.” She glanced at him, caught off guard by the seriousness in his tone. His golden-brown eyes were steady, protective in a way that reached deeper than the jacket around her shoulders.

“Why?” she asked. “Because I don’t want to scare you,” Yuma admitted. His voice was low, earnest. “You’re already giving me more than I deserve by agreeing to try with me. The last thing I want is to push you too fast, too far.” (Y/n)’s heart tightened at that. He wasn’t asking for blind acceptance, wasn’t rushing her. He was just offering himself, piece by piece, whenever she was ready.

(Y/n) hugged the jacket closer around herself, the fabric soft and faintly smelling of his cologne, clean, warm, a little woodsy. She’d never admit it out loud, but she liked it. It made her feel safe, cocooned in a kind of warmth she hadn’t realized she’d been craving.

She didn’t need to admit it. Yuma already knew. The subtle shift in her scent told him everything he needed, her comfort, her ease. His wolf practically preened, content that she felt safe in something of his.

But the night had slipped by faster than either of them realized, and eventually (Y/n) slowed her steps with a reluctant sigh. “I should probably head home. It’s getting late.” Yuma nodded, though he didn’t want the evening to end. He shoved his hands into his pockets to keep from fidgeting. “Yeah… but maybe this weekend?” Her brows lifted. “This weekend?”

He smiled, almost shyly, though his eyes still held that familiar spark. “Back at the pond. Just us. We could bring food, talk more… and if you’re really ready, maybe then you could see my wolf form.” For a moment she just looked at him, the idea both thrilling and terrifying all at once. But then she gave a small nod, her lips tugging into the faintest smile. “Okay. This weekend.”

Yuma’s grin stretched wider, his entire body practically glowing with joy at her answer. He wanted to reach for her hand, to hold onto this moment, but he restrained himself. For now, just the promise was enough. As they parted ways, (Y/n) still wrapped in his jacket, both of them carried the same thought in their chests: Saturday couldn’t come fast enough.

~~~

When Yuma came bounding through the front door that night, the whole house could feel the difference in him. His steps were lighter, his grin so wide it was almost ridiculous. EJ and Fuma, who were seated in the living room going over patrol rotations, exchanged a look before Yuma dropped himself onto the couch opposite them, practically buzzing with energy.

“I need to tell you guys everything,” Yuma blurted out. And then he did, about Jay, how the vampire hadn’t been hostile this time, how he’d even seemed supportive. About (Y/n), how she’d smiled when she saw him, how she’d given him a chance. And finally, about Saturday.

“…so we’re going back to the pond,” Yuma finished, his eyes gleaming, “and if she’s ready, I’m going to show her my wolf.” The silence that followed was heavy. EJ leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, a frown pulling at his mouth. Fuma pinched the bridge of his nose like he already had a headache. “Yuma,” EJ said slowly, “do you really think that’s a good idea?” Fuma added, “Kei hasn’t even shown Aya his wolf yet, and they’ve been official for months. You can’t just jump into this. Showing her that side of you, it’s permanent. You can’t take it back.”

Yuma hesitated for the first time, his excitement dimming just a fraction. “I know. I’m not rushing it, not really. I told her only if she’s completely sure. But… she wants to understand. And I get it. She’s been living in our world longer than Aya. She’s seen more of it. For her, seeing the wolf might make things clearer.” The older wolves exchanged another look. They still weren’t convinced.

EJ’s wolf didn’t like the idea, too much risk, too soon. But they could see how serious Yuma was, how much thought he’d put into it despite his usual impulsiveness. Finally, Fuma sighed, leaning back. “We’re not saying we approve. But…” He shook his head with a small, reluctant smile. “We’ll trust you. Just don’t make us regret it, Yuma.” Yuma’s grin returned, bright and unshakable. “You won’t. I promise.”

~~~

The days crawled by, each one stretching painfully slow as Saturday loomed closer. Yuma was restless, unable to sit still for more than a few minutes. Every time a phone buzzed anywhere in the house, he launched himself at it like a missile, only to let out a long, dramatic groan when it wasn’t his.

And when it was her? When her name lit up on his screen? He squealed, actually squealed, before rolling across the couch with his phone clutched to his chest like it was some sacred treasure.

Nicholas smirked every time, unable to resist. “You sound like a teenage girl waiting for her prom date.” Taki, never one to miss an opportunity, added, “No, no, more like a puppy that just heard the treat bag.” The house erupted with laughter more than once at Yuma’s expense, but he didn’t care. Not one bit. He was walking on fire, glowing with anticipation, counting down the hours until he could see her again. Let them tease. None of it mattered. Because soon, he’d be back at the pond with (Y/n). Just the two of them.

Saturday arrived with a restless buzz in the air. At (Y/n)’s apartment, Jay lounged against the counter, arms folded, his expression unusually serious as he watched her tear through her closet for the third time.

“Be careful out there,” he said finally. “The wolves’ village… it’s close to no-man’s land. That means strays, supernaturals without packs or covens. Some of them don’t care about rules. And some of them…” His crimson eyes darkened. “Not even Yuma could protect you from. Not even I could.”

(Y/n) paused, clutching a blouse in her hands. She looked at him, trying to read if this was just Jay being overprotective, or if there was real danger behind his warning. But then she sighed, folding the thought away for later. “I’ll be careful. I promise.”

Jay didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push. He only muttered, “Good,” before stealing a glance at the growing pile of discarded outfits on her bed. “Just don’t overthink it. He already thinks you hung the moon. You could show up in sweatpants and he’d probably faint.” (Y/n) laughed softly, shaking her head, but her hands still smoothed over the dress she finally picked. She wanted to look nice, for herself, but also for him. Not forgetting to bring the jacket he had given her a few days ago.

Meanwhile, at the pack’s village, chaos of a different sort was unfolding. Jo and Harua had been roped into helping Yuma prepare, despite both of them grumbling like it was the end of the world. Jo lugged an armful of pillows through the trees, muttering under his breath, while Harua dragged a thick blanket across the grass, trying to spread it evenly by the pond.

“Why are we doing this again?” Jo complained. “It’s his date, not ours.” “Because if we don’t,” Harua shot back, rolling his eyes, “he’ll just throw a single hoodie on the ground and call it romantic.” From behind a nearby tree, Yuma appeared, arms full of a small bag stuffed with snacks, extra water bottles, and a spare change of clothes, just in case. He looked like a nervous whirlwind, checking and rechecking everything with the energy of someone on their first date ever.

Jo groaned loudly, but the smile tugging at his mouth gave him away. Harua, too, shook his head, but there was warmth in his eyes. Because the truth was, seeing their brother so happy, so alive with anticipation, made all the effort worth it.

Just before (Y/n) was due to arrive, Yuma sat by the pond, tugging nervously at the hem of his shirt for what felt like the hundredth time. The blanket was spread, the pillows fluffed, the bag packed, it was perfect. Or at least, he hoped it was.

Then EJ’s voice suddenly cut through the pack’s telepathic link, calm but edged with warning. Everyone, stay sharp. During patrol, Nicholas and I picked up something near the border. Couldn’t get a clear read, but it wasn’t one of ours. Keep your guards up. The link buzzed with quiet acknowledgments from the others, until EJ added, Especially you, Yuma. Don’t get careless. You’ve got someone to protect today.

Yuma froze, his wolf bristling instantly. Do you think it’s serious? he asked. EJ hesitated before answering. I don’t know. Could just be a human in the woods looking for chantarelles. Or it could be worse. Either way, don’t let your guard down.

The link went quiet again, but Yuma’s heart hammered. He clenched and unclenched his fists, forcing himself to breathe. Please let it just be a human, he thought, glancing toward the forest path. The last thing he wanted was danger anywhere near (Y/n). But when the breeze shifted and her familiar scent reached him, his nerves softened. Whatever was out there, he’d deal with it. Right now, she was here, and that was all that mattered.

“Hi!” (Y/n) called out cheerfully as the pond came into view. Yuma’s head snapped up at the sound, his face breaking into a grin so bright it seemed to light up the clearing. He didn’t walk, he ran over, his excitement impossible to contain. “Hey,” he said, reaching instinctively for her bag. “Here, let me take that.”

As he lifted it from her shoulder, his eyes immediately caught on the jacket tied around the strap. His jacket. His chest warmed at the sight. The fabric still held traces of his scent, though now it was mingled with hers, wrapping around it in a way that made his wolf purr with satisfaction. He loved it, loved that she’d kept it close.

(Y/n), oblivious to the storm of emotion behind his smile, only raised a brow when she noticed him scanning the trees, his gaze flicking around like he was listening for something. “You’re looking around a lot,” she remarked softly as they walked toward the blanket.

Yuma hesitated, then sighed. He’d promised not to lie to her. “I should tell you the truth. EJ and Nicholas picked up something near our borders during patrol. They don’t know what it is. Could be nothing. But just in case… we’re keeping an eye out.”

Her steps slowed, but her face didn’t pale with fear. Instead, she nodded, almost calmly, like she’d already expected that being near their world meant risks. “Aren’t you scared?” Yuma asked, searching her face. (Y/n) shook her head gently, her eyes meeting his. “No. Not really. I feel safe with you. That’s what matters to me right now.”

Yuma’s throat tightened, his wolf howling with pride at her trust. He wanted to swear he’d protect her from anything, wanted to promise that nothing would ever harm her, but instead, he only gave her a soft smile and gestured toward the blanket. “Then let’s make today a good one,” he said.

They settled onto the blanket, the pond reflecting the late afternoon sun like liquid gold. Yuma opened the bag and spread out the snacks he’d packed, simple things, but chosen carefully, with the same detail he poured into everything he did.

They chatted easily at first, nibbling on fruit and crackers, (Y/n) laughing when Yuma complained that Jo had nearly eaten half the food before he’d even left the house. Eventually, Yuma tilted his head, his eyes curious.

“So, how’s Koyomi doing? Busy?” (Y/n)’s face lit up, pride and excitement shining through her. “Really well, actually. I think Aya’s article helped a lot, ever since it came out, we’ve been nearly full every night. People keep saying they read about us and just had to try the food. It’s been overwhelming, in the best way.” “That’s amazing,” Yuma said, grinning ear to ear. “I knew it would happen. You’re too good not to be noticed.”

Her cheeks warmed at the genuine praise, but then her brows furrowed slightly. “Wait a second… I just realized something. You know all about me and the restaurant, but I don’t even know what you do.” Yuma blinked, then laughed, rubbing the back of his neck like he’d forgotten that detail. “Oh, right. I’m a fashion designer.” Her eyes widened. “Wait, seriously?”

“Yeah.” He gestured toward her, his grin widening. “The jacket I gave you the other night? I made it.” (Y/n) looked down at the fabric draped over her legs, suddenly seeing it in a whole new light. Her fingers traced the clean stitching, the subtle details in the design she hadn’t noticed before.

“You made this?” she asked, stunned. Yuma nodded, his chest swelling at her expression. “I… wow. Yuma, it’s incredible.” Her voice was filled with such genuine awe that his wolf stirred proudly inside him, tail high, ears perked. Praise had always been something Yuma enjoyed, but praise from her felt like the best thing in the world.

After they’d picked through most of the snacks, Yuma suddenly bounced to his feet, his grin mischievous. “I want to show you something else,” he said. (Y/n) raised an eyebrow, wary. “That look on your face tells me I should be suspicious.” He only laughed, waving her toward the water’s edge. “Come on, trust me.”

When they reached the pond, he kicked off his shoes and gestured for her to do the same. “Let’s dip our feet in.” (Y/n) blinked at him like he’d just suggested they leap off a cliff. “Yuma… it’s autumn. That water is going to be freezing.” He shook his head, his grin never fading. “Not this pond. Just try it. Feel it with your hand if you don’t believe me.”

She sighed, crouching down skeptically, then let her fingers skim the surface. Her eyes widened immediately. “It’s… warm?” “Told you.” Yuma plopped down beside her, proud as ever. “It’s kind of magical, I guess. We don’t really understand why, but the pond stays warm all year. Even in the middle of winter.” Her disbelief slowly shifted into curiosity. “So you can swim in it whenever you want?”

“Yup.” His smile softened with nostalgia. “When we were younger, it became this tradition, we’d go swimming here on Christmas Eve before dinner. Even when the snow was thick on the ground, the water felt like summer. It was our thing, something all of us looked forward to.”

(Y/n) found herself smiling too, her heart tugged by the image of the wolves splashing in warm water while snowflakes fell around them. Something about it felt intimate, like she was being let in on a precious memory.

Quietly, she slipped off her shoes, and let her legs fall into the pond. The water wrapped around her calves like a soft blanket, warm and soothing. She glanced at Yuma, who was already sitting beside her, feet dangling in the water, looking completely at peace. “I like that tradition,” she said softly. “Me too,” Yuma replied, his voice equally gentle. “It’s one of those things that makes this place feel like home.”

They dangled their feet in the warm water, the ripples glimmering with the reflection of the fading sunlight. For a while, neither of them spoke. It wasn’t an awkward silence, it was a quiet that felt… right.

(Y/n) leaned back on her hands, letting the breeze brush her face, and for the first time in what felt like years, she realized she was at peace. Truly at peace. No weight pressing down on her shoulders, no tightness in her chest. Just the warmth of the pond, the forest alive around them, and Yuma beside her.

Maybe this was what Aya had meant when she explained the bond. Maybe it wasn’t about being forced into something, but about fate nudging her toward what she really needed. Fate had chosen Yuma for her… and her for him. And maybe, just maybe, fate knew what it was doing. If that was true, then maybe he really could be good for her.

Beside her, Yuma sat with his knees drawn up, his arms resting on them as he watched the pond. He was quiet too, though his thoughts ran anything but still. He wished he could speed everything up, show her everything he felt, make her see how deeply he loved her. He’d known it since the first moment he met her, weeks ago. His wolf hadn’t let him rest since. He loved her with every fiber of his being, loud and unshakable.

But he also knew she needed time. He couldn’t rush her, couldn’t overwhelm her. So he stayed still, holding the longing inside him, clinging to the hope that one day she’d look at him and feel even a fraction of what he felt for her. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. The way she was smiling softly at the water, his chest ached. Please fall for me, he thought. I’ll wait as long as it takes.

After a long stretch of peaceful quiet, (Y/n) pulled her feet from the water, hugging her knees to her chest. She hesitated, chewing on her lip before finally voicing the thought that had been circling her mind since their last walk. “Yuma… could I… see your wolf?”

He turned to her quickly, eyes widening, his wolf pressing against his chest at her words. “You want to?” She nodded. “I do. I know you said to be sure, and I am. I want to understand all of you.” His heart stuttered. He leaned toward her slightly, voice gentler than she’d ever heard it. “(Y/n), I have to ask again, are you sure? Because once you see him… I can’t take that back. And the last thing I ever want is for you to be afraid of me.”

Her gaze held steady, even if her stomach fluttered nervously. “I’m sure. I wouldn’t have asked otherwise.” For a long moment, he searched her expression, every instinct inside him trying to make absolutely certain. Finally, he nodded, exhaling slowly. “Okay. Then I’ll show you.” (Y/n)’s breath hitched, anticipation tightening in her chest.

“But…” Yuma added, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not ready for you to see the shift itself. It’s… intense. Messy. I’d rather you see me as I am after. So I’ll walk away a little, shift, and then come back to you. Is that alright?” She gave a small smile, her voice soft. “That’s fine. I’ll wait.”

Relief flickered through his eyes. He stood, brushing his hands on his jeans before giving her one last look, so tender it made her heart ache, and then he disappeared into the trees. (Y/n) stayed by the pond, her heart pounding harder with each second, knowing that when he returned, she’d be face to face with Yuma’s other half, his truest self.

A few minutes later, (Y/n) heard the faint rustle of leaves somewhere behind her. She braced herself, expecting heavy steps, branches snapping beneath a weight that large, but there was nothing. Just silence. Slowly, she turned, and her breath caught in her throat. A wolf.

A very large wolf stood a few feet away, his golden eyes catching the fading light of dusk. Her heart thudded hard against her ribs, half from awe, half from the strange, steady calm that washed over her as she looked at him. He was enormous, almost her height even on all fours, his fur a rich dark grey streaked with pale white threads, like moonlight woven into shadows.

“…Yuma?” she whispered, her voice trembling only slightly. The wolf dipped his head once, a slow, deliberate nod. Her lips parted, amazement flooding her chest. He was beautiful. Terrifying in theory, but standing here, watching her with such patient eyes, he was only Yuma. Different on the outside, yes, but still him.

She hesitated before asking, “Can I… touch you?” The wolf blinked once, then inclined his head again, lowering himself just slightly as if inviting her closer. Her hand shook as she reached forward, but when her palm finally met his head, her breath left her in a soft rush. His fur was softer than she expected, thick and warm, radiating heat like he carried a piece of summer inside him.

(Y/n) couldn’t stop the small, startled laugh that slipped out of her. The sound was bright, almost childlike. “You’re… wow. You’re incredible.” She gave him another gentle stroke, her fingers sinking deeper into his fur. “It feels like… like touching snow for the first time. Familiar, but also like magic.” The wolf’s chest rumbled, not quite a growl, not quite a purr, but something caught in between, contentment. And for the first time, (Y/n) realized she wasn’t afraid at all. She was enchanted.

For a while, it was quiet, almost dreamlike. Yuma had stretched out beside her, his massive head resting gently across her lap. (Y/n)’s fingers combed absently through his fur, twirling strands between them, marveling at how soft he was, how steady his breathing had become beneath her touch. Her own heart slowed, calm washing over her in a way she hadn’t thought possible. For the first time in years, she felt… safe. But then, Yuma’s entire body went rigid.

His ears flicked sharply, eyes glowing brighter as he stared into the trees. A low growl rumbled from his chest, deep and warning. At that same moment, EJ’s voice cut harshly into his mind through the link, strained and urgent:

“Yuma. Something’s breached the border. We don’t know what it is yet, but it’s on our land. Bring the girl back to the village, now. Before it finds you.” Panic jolted through him like fire. Yuma was on his feet in an instant, towering over (Y/n), golden eyes blazing with tension. “Yuma?” (Y/n)’s voice wavered, her hand falling from her lap where his head had been only seconds ago.

He didn’t have time to shift back, not with something possibly closing in on them. He needed her to understand now. The wolf gave a sharp shake of his head, then nudged her shoulder hard with his nose, stepping toward the path back to the village. His movements were urgent, insistent. When she blinked up at him in confusion, he huffed loudly, circling back and pushing against her again, this time with a soft growl vibrating in his chest.

(Y/n)’s eyes widened. “Something’s wrong…” she murmured, realization dawning. She looked out at the tree line, shadows shifting in the distance. Fear curled in her stomach, but when she looked back at Yuma, all she saw was his fierce determination. “You want me to follow you?” she asked breathlessly. He dipped his massive head once in a sharp nod before stepping in front of her, putting his body between her and the darkening forest. His tail lashed once, protective, and another warning growl rippled from his throat.

(Y/n) scrambled to grab her shoes and bag with shaking hands, heart pounding, but she forced herself to stand tall. If Yuma was worried, then she needed to trust him, completely. “Okay,” she whispered, her voice trembling but sure. “Take me home.” Yuma lowered himself slightly, brushing against her leg to herd her onto the path. Then, keeping himself always between her and the shadows, he began leading her back toward the safety of the village, every sense on high alert.

The forest had gone so quiet that (Y/n) could hear the quick beat of her own heart. Yuma’s low growl rolled through the night, warning whatever lurked beyond the tree line to stay back. She kept close behind him, her hand clutching the strap of her bag like it could ground her. Then it happened.

A dark blur launched from the shadows. It slammed into Yuma with enough force to knock the massive wolf off his feet. (Y/n) gasped, stumbling backward as the sound of snapping branches and Yuma’s snarl echoed through the clearing.

“Yuma!” she cried, frozen in place as he shook himself and leapt back up, golden eyes blazing, fangs bared. The thing that had hit him slunk out of the darkness, it moved wrong, its limbs too long, too sharp, like something stitched together from nightmare and shadow. Her breath caught, icy panic wrapping around her lungs. She remembered Jay’s warning: not even Yuma can protect you from everything.

Run. Every instinct screamed at her to run. But her legs wouldn’t move. She couldn’t make herself leave him. Yuma twisted his head back for the briefest second, his eyes locking on hers, commanding, pleading. Go. His body tensed, bracing to lunge again. “No,” she whispered, her throat tight. “I’m not leaving you.”

The creature hissed, its shape flickering like smoke before it lunged again. Yuma moved faster, meeting it midair, his jaws snapping shut around its arm. He slammed it to the ground, the earth shaking beneath them. (Y/n) clapped her hands over her ears at the unearthly screech it let out, but her eyes never left Yuma. She couldn’t, she wouldn’t, leave him, no matter what he wanted. Her body trembled as fear battled against a strange, unshakable pull in her chest, that bond Aya had explained. Maybe she didn’t understand it fully yet, but right now, it anchored her in place.

(Y/n) pressed a hand to her mouth as she finally caught a clear glimpse of the thing Yuma was battling. At first glance it almost looked like a werewolf, but not like Yuma. Its hulking form was twisted, its shoulders hunched, patches of fur bristling at odd angles, claws that looked more like jagged bone than anything natural. Its face was elongated, its fangs sharper, crueler, and its eyes, white as snow, void of any warmth or soul, made her stomach twist with terror.

She stumbled back a step, her mind racing. What is that? Yuma, however, knew exactly what it was. The recognition struck him like ice water in his veins. He snarled and lunged again, teeth snapping, but even as he fought he sent his voice rushing down the pack’s link, sharp and urgent.

Rougarou. It’s a Rougarou! The air in the forest seemed to drop in temperature as the name echoed through the bond. EJ’s growl rumbled back instantly: Are you sure? Yuma ducked beneath a swipe of those skeletal claws, his side stinging as one just grazed his fur. I’m sure! he snapped. Half wolf, half wendigo, it’s scent, it smells like rotting flesh, it’s strong, too strong. I don’t know if I can hold it! Through the link came Fuma’s voice, calm but weighted with steel. We’re coming. Just hold on, Yuma. Do not let it reach her.

Yuma’s golden eyes flicked toward (Y/n) for the briefest of moments, her face pale in the moonlight, her body rigid with fear but still refusing to run. His wolf growled deep in his chest, protective and desperate. I’ll hold, Yuma promised, even as the Rougarou lunged at him again, its roar shaking the trees. He had no choice, he would hold, until his brothers came, or until his last breath.

The Rougarou was merciless, every movement a blur of savage hunger. It snapped its jagged maw at Yuma’s throat, lunged with claws that could have torn a tree trunk apart. Yuma snarled and met it head-on, sinking his fangs into its shoulder and shoving it back with all the strength he had left.

(Y/n) could barely breathe, her hands trembling as she watched the nightmare unfold in front of her. Yuma’s dark fur was matted with streaks of blood, his blood, and still he stood his ground. Every time the beast tried to veer toward her, Yuma threw himself in its path, his massive frame the only shield between her and the monster.

The Rougarou slammed into him again, sending him skidding across the dirt, claws raking deep into his side. Yuma yelped but forced himself back onto his paws, golden eyes blazing with stubborn fire. He was slowing, she could see it, every muscle straining, every breath ragged, but he didn’t back down.

“Yuma…” (Y/n) whispered, tears stinging her eyes. She wanted to run to him, to help somehow, but her legs refused to move, terror rooting her in place. The Rougarou lunged once more, its jaws gaping, its hunger a tangible thing in the air. Yuma met it with a roar that shook the trees, throwing his entire weight into the attack. The two beasts collided, earth spraying beneath their claws, their snarls and growls echoing through the forest. Inside his head, Yuma screamed into the pack link, desperate now: Hurry! I can’t hold it much longer!

We’re close! Fuma’s voice thundered back. Just hang on, Yuma. Just hang on. His chest heaved, his vision flickered, but he didn’t let the Rougarou take a single step closer to (Y/n). If this was the last thing he did, he would make sure she lived.

Yuma’s body was burning, every muscle trembling under the strain of keeping the beast back. His claws raked the earth, his breath came out in harsh, ragged pants, but still he refused to let the Rougarou past him. Its pale eyes locked on (Y/n), hunger dripping from every guttural snarl, and Yuma knew, if he fell, she was done for.

Behind him, he could feel her fear like a pulse. Frozen. Trapped. He didn’t blame her. She wasn’t a fighter, she shouldn’t have to be. So he dug deeper, forcing his battered body forward, every instinct in him screaming one word: protect. But the Rougarou was too strong.

It feinted left, then struck fast, jaws snapping like steel. Yuma wasn’t quick enough this time. White-hot pain tore through his side as its fangs sank deep, ripping across his stomach. He let out a strangled yelp, the sound raw and heart-wrenching, before the world tilted and his legs buckled beneath him.

Blood gushed warm and thick into the dirt. He collapsed, chest heaving, vision blurring as the Rougarou loomed above him. His wolf tried to rise, tried to push back to his paws, but his body refused to listen. Through the haze, one thought cut through: Please… let them get here in time. Don’t let her die. The last thing he heard before darkness threatened to take him was the thunder of paws and voices crashing through the trees, his family, his pack.

(Y/n) screamed, the sound tearing from her throat as Yuma’s massive body crumpled to the ground with a sickening thud. Her knees buckled, sending her crashing into the dirt beside him. She couldn’t breathe, her chest felt locked, her hands shaking violently as she stared at the blood pooling beneath his fur. He’s dying. He’s dying and I can’t do anything. We’re both going to die here.

The Rougarou turned its hollow, white eyes toward her, lips peeling back to reveal jagged, blood-slicked fangs. Her body screamed at her to move, to run, but she couldn’t. She was frozen in terror. Then, a blur of fur and muscle came barreling from the trees. The newcomer slammed into the Rougarou with bone-cracking force, sending the beast staggering backward with a guttural roar. (Y/n) flinched, wide-eyed, as another shape exploded from the shadows, and then another.

Wolves. Huge, powerful wolves. In seconds, she was surrounded, a wall of fur and snarls standing between her and the monster. Their presence was overwhelming, primal, yet oddly reassuring. Somehow, she could feel their intent, they weren’t here to hurt her. They were here to protect.

Her panicked eyes swept over them, trying to piece together who was who. The wolf that had struck first was massive, broader and heavier than the rest. Fuma, she just knew. The one with sleek black fur stood steady and unshakable, Kei. A wolf with crimson eyes, glowing fiercely in the darkness, stood tall in front of her, blocking the Rougarou’s path with a commanding growl. EJ.

Two smaller wolves shifted at the edges, sharp and fast, Harua, and either Maki or Taki, she couldn’t be sure. Another wolf was lean, wiry, with a streak of red threaded through its fur, Nicholas. And beside him, Jo, slightly smaller in build yet taller in height, but bristling with ferocity. They were all here. All except one.

The Rougarou lunged again, its claws raking against the ground as it tried to push past the wall of fur and teeth, but it was too late, the pack had arrived in full force. Fuma met its charge head-on, his sheer bulk slamming into the creature like a boulder crashing down a mountain. The Rougarou reeled back, snarling, but before it could recover, Kei was there, his jet-black form darting in lightning quick, snapping at its legs and darting away again before the beast could swipe at him.

EJ, towering above the rest, moved with terrifying authority, his crimson eyes burning like fire in the night. He released a growl so deep it vibrated through the air, rattling even (Y/n)’s bones. The Rougarou faltered at the sound, just long enough for the three wolves to fall into a rhythm.

Fuma’s strength held the monster back, Kei’s speed slashed at its weaknesses, and EJ’s dominance pressed down like a weight, suffocating the creature’s fight. Yuma had already bloodied the beast with his claws and teeth, its hide was torn, its gait unsteady, dark blood staining the earth beneath it. But the Rougarou’s feral hunger had pushed it past reason, making it stronger, wilder than any ordinary foe.

Now, with three alphas-in-their-own-right bearing down on it together, the tide shifted. The Rougarou stumbled, gasping ragged snarls, and finally collapsed beneath their combined force. It writhed weakly, but it was done, it could do no more harm to them.

Nicholas rushed away the second the rougarou was subdued, shifting back to his human form behind a tree, hurriedly putting on some clothes before running over to (Y/n). Nicholas’s voice was frantic as he crouched beside (Y/n), his hands hovering as though he wanted to pull her into a hug but didn’t want to overwhelm her further. Her cheeks were wet with tears, her hands trembling against her lap, her lips forming only one broken word. “Yuma…”

Nicholas swallowed hard, his heart clenching. “He’s alive,” he promised softly, even if fear churned in his own stomach. “We’ve got him, okay? We’re taking him home.” His reassurance barely touched her, the tears still flowing, but at least she was listening.

Behind them, Fuma, EJ, and Maki were struggling with Yuma’s massive wolf form, careful not to jar the wound too much as they maneuvered his limp body between them. It was slow, brutal work, the coppery smell of his blood staining the earth as they carried him, but none of them faltered. They wouldn’t let him fall. Nicholas straightened, his voice firm now, calling over to Jo, who lingered nearby in his wolf shape. “Jo, let her ride. She can’t walk back like this.”

Jo padded closer immediately, lowering himself to the ground. His dark eyes flickered with sympathy as he glanced at (Y/n). Nicholas reached out, steadying her as he guided her onto Jo’s back. She didn’t resist, didn’t even seem to notice much beyond the shallow rise and fall of Yuma’s chest in the distance. “Hold on to his fur,” Nicholas instructed gently, tucking her hand against Jo’s thick ruff. “We’ll be home soon.”

As Jo rose, Nicholas walked beside her, keeping close as though afraid she’d shatter into pieces if left alone. He spoke softly, trying to anchor her in the moment. “Taki will have soup ready when we get there. Something warm, something steady. You won’t be alone in this, I promise.”

All (Y/n) could do was nod faintly, her voice lost to the storm of fear inside her. Every heartbeat of the journey back felt stretched and heavy, her gaze never leaving the shape of Yuma being carried ahead. The pack moved as one through the dark forest, silent but determined, each of them carrying the same desperate hope: that Yuma would be okay, that the bond between him and his mate would not be broken tonight.

The village was alive with tension the moment they stepped out of the treeline. Lanterns flickered to life along the pathways, throwing warm light across worried faces. Taki was waiting just beyond the main steps, his usual playful grin nowhere to be seen, replaced by sheer panic as his gaze snapped to Yuma’s bloodied wolf form.

“Oh, god,” he choked, rushing forward but stopping short, his hands wringing helplessly. He wanted to help, but Fuma’s sharp look made him hold back. This wasn’t something he could joke or fumble his way through.

Aya, pale and wide-eyed, broke into a run. Aya’s reached out with a hand before covering her mouth as though holding in a scream. “Yuma,” Her voice cracked, but EJ barked her name, keeping her at a distance while the older wolves carried Yuma quickly toward one of the smaller houses.

It was only when Jo crouched down again that (Y/n) realized she was still on his back, her fingers knotted tightly in his fur. Harua was there in an instant, gently lifting her down with Aya’s help. Her legs wobbled beneath her, but she didn’t protest as they guided her inside the main house.

The warm scent of chicken soup filled the air, comforting, homely, but it barely registered. The taste of fear clung to her tongue, sharp and heavy. Her eyes darted toward the door where they’d carried Yuma, her whole body leaning as if she could follow, but Aya’s hand pressed gently to her arm.

“Come inside,” Aya whispered, her voice shaking but firm. “They’ll do everything they can for him. He’s strong. You’ll see.” (Y/n) wanted to believe her, she really did, but all she could think about was Yuma collapsing, the blood soaking into the earth, the way his golden eyes had dimmed in pain.

Inside the small cabin that doubled as their infirmary, the air was thick with panic and the heavy scent of blood. Yuma’s great wolf body was sprawled across a cot that looked too small to hold him, his chest rising and falling in ragged, uneven breaths.

EJ knelt at his side, his hands pressing down on the wound, his jaw clenched so hard it looked painful. “He’s losing too much,” the alpha growled low, frustration burning in his voice. Blood still seeped through his fingers no matter how hard he pressed. Fuma hovered at Yuma’s head, one hand steadying his brother’s shoulder when he thrashed weakly. His normally calm face was tight, panic threatening to break through. “This isn’t working. Pressure won’t be enough, he needs stitches.”

Kei’s hands shook as he tried cleaning away some of the blood with damp cloths, his eyes darting between Yuma’s pale muzzle and EJ’s grim face. “But who? Who the hell do we call? There’s no doctor who’ll see… this.” The room fell silent, save for Yuma’s shallow, pained breathing. Then Nicholas, who had been pacing near the door, stopped sharply, his hand curling into a fist. “There might be someone.” His voice was low, reluctant.

All three pairs of eyes turned to him. Nicholas swallowed, hating the words even as they left his mouth. “Jay. The vampire. If anyone knows someone who can treat supernatural wounds, it’s him.” “No.” EJ’s rejection was instant, sharp. His red eyes glowed faintly in the dim room. “We don’t ask a leech for help.” Fuma glanced between the two of them, his voice calmer but no less worried. “EJ, if we don’t, Yuma could die tonight.” Kei looked down at his younger brother, stroking a blood-matted patch of fur. His throat was tight as he whispered, “I don’t care who it is. If they can save him, we need them.”

EJ’s jaw worked, his teeth gritting, but he didn’t argue. His silence was answer enough. Nicholas nodded once, already turning for the door. He pushed it open with a force that made the wood rattle and sprinted across the clearing, his eyes locking on the main house. Aya’s voice carried faintly from inside, trying to soothe (Y/n).

Nicholas didn’t slow as he pushed through the door. The warmth of the soup hit him first, then the sight of Aya and Harua sitting with (Y/n). She was pale, her eyes swollen from crying, but alert. Nicholas’s chest tightened. “(Y/n).” His voice cracked with urgency. “I need you to call Jay. Now. Yuma’s not gonna make it unless we get help, and your vampire might know someone.”

(Y/n)’s fingers trembled as she scrolled through her phone, her breath hitching in shallow gasps. She couldn’t bring herself to speak, not when her throat was so tight it hurt, but she managed to find Jay’s name and press the call button, then handing the phone to Nicholas. The phone rang only once before Jay picked up.

“(Y/n)?” his voice came through, warm, relieved, like he’d been waiting for her call. But instead of her voice, another, deeper one answered. “No, it’s Nicholas. One of the pack.” There was a pause, sharp and loaded. “…Why are you on her phone?” Jay’s tone lost its warmth, suspicion cutting through it like ice.

Nicholas wasted no time. His voice was urgent, clipped. “We don’t have time for questions. One of ours, Yuma, is dying. He fought off a monster to protect (Y/n). He’s bleeding out. We need someone who can treat him, someone who knows what we are.” On the other end, Jay was silent for a beat. Nicholas thought maybe he’d hung up, but then Jay asked, almost roughly: “And (Y/n)? Is she safe?”

Nicholas looked over his shoulder. (Y/n) sat slumped on the couch, Aya’s arm around her, her eyes glassy but wide with fear. “She’s not hurt,” Nicholas said firmly. “Not a scratch. But she’s… she’s shaken. Badly.” He heard Jay exhale, long and heavy. A kind of relief. “Good. That’s,” He cut himself off. “Listen. I can come. I can help him. I know how to handle supernatural wounds. And if I can’t, I know someone who can.” Nicholas blinked. “You’d… do that? Even for a wolf?” “I’m not doing it for him,” Jay admitted quietly. “I’m doing it for her.”

Nicholas’s grip on the phone tightened. He didn’t like it, didn’t like trusting a vampire, didn’t like what this could mean for their fragile balance of peace. But he also didn’t like the thought of Yuma’s breathing stopping before sunrise. “Fine,” Nicholas growled. “I’ll send you the coordinates. Don’t make me regret this.” “I won’t,” Jay promised. “Tell (Y/n) I’m coming.” Nicholas lowered the phone, his gaze falling to the girl on the couch. Her eyes were locked on him, silently begging for good news. He gave a small, sharp nod. “He’s on his way.”

Jay sprinted through the night, the world around him little more than a blur of trees and shadows. His chest ached with something he hadn’t felt in decades, urgency, desperation, but his feet carried him faster than ever, driven by a promise he hadn’t even spoken aloud: I won’t let (Y/n) lose him.

He knew the wolves would never trust him easily. They had every right not to. His kind and theirs had been tearing each other apart since long before he was born. But Jay had never taken part in that war. He had no desire to. While other vampires played their power games in the dark corners of the world, Jay had stayed out of it, choosing instead to protect, to save, where he could. Maybe that made him weak in the eyes of his own kind. Maybe it made him suspicious in the eyes of the wolves. But to him, it simply made him human.

And in another life, before fangs and blood and eternity, he had been human. He had been a scholar, a student of medicine. He remembered the heavy scent of herbs and ink in the university halls, the way he had memorized anatomy diagrams by candlelight, the precise feel of needle and thread in his fingers. That knowledge had saved lives before, and it would save one now.

But it wasn’t just the past that steadied him. His vampiric gift, the strange quirk of fate that gave him a healing touch, was rare even among his kind. He had learned, painfully, that he couldn’t bring someone back from death, but he could keep a failing body from crossing that line. He could slow the bleeding, knit torn flesh, coax a pulse back into steadiness.

It was that gift he would use tonight. Jay’s crimson eyes glowed faintly in the darkness as he leapt over a fallen log, barely breaking stride. He knew the wolves wouldn’t welcome him with open arms. They might even try to tear him apart the second they saw him. But none of that mattered. He was doing this for (Y/n).

The second Jay’s foot crossed the boundary of the wolves’ land, EJ felt it like a spark of electricity through his bones. An intruder. His hackles rose instantly, his wolf ready to tear the trespasser apart, but then he felt Nicholas’s mind in the pack link, sharp and steady: I see him, I’ll lead him to the infirmary. EJ didn’t like it. Fuma didn’t like it. None of them did. But Yuma’s life was bleeding out of him, faster than any of them could stop, and for that reason alone, they stayed their claws.

Nicholas led Jay across the grounds, the vampire walking with calm steps though his crimson eyes scanned everything, the houses, the lanterns, the tension heavy in the air. He could feel the unease pressing down on him. A vampire in the heart of a wolf village was a contradiction, an impossibility. Yet here he was, and the wolves allowed it because one of their own lay dying.

When Jay entered the small house, the smell of blood hit him like a wave. His eyes flickered faintly, hunger tugging at the edge of his restraint, but he forced it down, jaw tightening. On the bed lay Yuma, pale, his breathing shallow, his side torn open so viciously Jay almost stopped in his tracks.

For a moment, he wondered how Yuma was still alive at all. That kind of wound should have killed him within minutes. And then he understood. His gaze flicked to the thread of scent lingering on Yuma’s skin, familiar to him. Her. The bond was tethering him, keeping him from letting go. The will not to leave his mate.

EJ and Fuma stood like sentinels, bodies tense, wolves inside them ready to spring. Kei hovered just behind them, his golden eyes narrowed in warning. They hated this, hated watching a vampire step toward their brother. But they did not stop him.

Jay crouched beside Yuma. His movements were steady, precise, the way they had been a hundred years ago in a candlelit room of books and bones. He pressed his hands over the wound, fingers splayed. And then it appeared, soft, almost fragile at first. A glow. Small but bright, pale light seeping from his palms into Yuma’s broken body. The bleeding slowed. The raw, torn edges of flesh began to knit together. Even the blood soaking the sheets seemed to draw back, pulled as if by invisible threads, returning to its source.

The wolves stiffened, eyes widening. They had expected trickery, poison, some dark curse, but no. Jay was healing him. For the first time in hours, hope flickered in the room.

Jay’s hands finally stilled after nearly half an hour of working over Yuma. His shoulders sagged, faint traces of exhaustion creeping into his otherwise controlled expression. He tied off the last stitch with careful precision, then smoothed gauze over the wound, his touch gentle but firm, adding a salve from a small vial he’d pulled from his pocket.

The glow of his healing had faded, but its effect lingered, the bleeding was gone, the jagged edges of the wound sealed into a neat scar line beneath the stitches. Yuma’s breathing was still shallow, but steady. Jay sat back on his heels, crimson eyes sweeping over the four wolves who had been silently watching his every move, their muscles coiled tight like springs. He let his bloodied hands rest on his knees as he finally spoke.

“He’ll live,” Jay said, his voice quiet but sure. “The worst of it is mended. But…” His gaze flicked back to Yuma, softened for just a moment. “My healing power takes a toll. Call it a forced rest, like a coma of sorts. He’ll wake, but I can’t tell you when. A week, or two… maybe more. I’ve never used this on a wolf before so the time may vary from what I’m used to.”

The silence was heavy, thick with both relief and unease. Kei let out a breath he’d been holding, his jaw clenched tight. Fuma’s fists eased slowly from where they’d been knotted at his sides. EJ, however, was the one to step forward. His eyes glowed faintly red in the dim light, still wary but softer now. “You’re saying… he’s out of danger?” Jay nodded. “Yes. He’ll heal. His body will do the rest, mostly while he’s still in the coma.”

For a long moment, EJ studied him. A wolf staring down a vampire, Alpha to outsider, history and instinct weighing between them like a blade. And then, finally, EJ inclined his head, low but deliberate. “Then I owe you an apology,” EJ said gruffly. “I, we, judged you for what you are, not who you are. You saved him, when no one else could. For that… you have my respect.” Jay blinked, surprise flickering across his face before he gave a faint smile, something almost sad in it. “You don’t need to thank me. I didn’t do it for you.” “No,” EJ agreed, his mouth twitching into the barest shadow of a smile. “But you still did it, and for that, I’m thankful.”

Nicholas lingered by Yuma’s bedside, pulling a chair close enough that he could hear the steady rhythm of the younger wolf’s breathing. “I’ll stay,” he said firmly, leaving no room for argument. “If he stirs, I’ll call.” EJ gave him a curt nod of approval before jerking his chin toward Jay. “You. With us.”

Jay rose silently, wiping his hands on a cloth. He didn’t flinch under the weight of their stares, but his steps carried an urgency that wasn’t for the wolves at all, it was for her. He knew (Y/n) was hurting. He knew her too well. Beneath all her fire and her wariness, she was someone who cared too much, who blamed herself for things never her fault. She would be sitting there, drowning in guilt, believing Yuma was bleeding out because of her.

The three wolves flanked him as they crossed into the main house. The smell of broth and herbs drifted out from the living room, a stark contrast to the thick copper scent Jay had just left behind. Inside, the rest of the pack was gathered, Aya pressed close to Harua on the couch, Taki with a half-finished bowl in his lap on one armrest, Jo and Maki seated on the floor. And there, on the edge of the couch with a bowl untouched in her hands, was (Y/n).

Her head snapped up the second the door opened. Her wide, tear-brimmed eyes darted from EJ, to Fuma, to Kei, and then froze on Jay. She blinked, stunned to see him standing there in the wolves’ den, blood still smeared faintly across his hands and shirt. No one spoke. The room was tense, silence stretched thin as wire.

Finally, EJ stepped forward. His voice was low, but steady, carrying the weight of a leader. “Yuma’s alive. He’s going to make it.” The bowls clattered softly as several boys set them down in relief. Aya let out a shaky laugh, reaching out for Kei’s hand as he stepped closer to her. Harua blew out a long breath, his body sagging with the release of fear.

(Y/n), however, stayed frozen. Her knuckles whitened around the bowl in her lap, her lips parted but no words coming out. Only her eyes betrayed her, wet and glimmering, fixed on EJ, as if begging him to say more. Fuma added gently, “He’s stable. Resting. He’ll need time, but he’ll wake up.”

That was all it took. The bowl slipped from (Y/n)’s hands, clattering onto the table, soup sloshing over the rim. She pressed both hands to her mouth as the first sob broke free, tears streaming down her cheeks. Jay’s chest tightened at the sight. Just as I thought, he mused silently. She had opened her heart to Yuma already, even if she didn’t yet realize it herself.

Jay crossed the room slowly, aware of every pair of wolf eyes tracking his every movement. But his focus wasn’t on them, it was on her. He crouched down in front of (Y/n), gently prying one of her trembling hands away from her face. His cool fingers wrapped around hers, grounding. “It’s going to be okay,” he said softly, his crimson eyes unusually warm. “He’ll recover. I promise.”

Her breath hitched, tears spilling over again, but she clung to his hand like it was a lifeline. From the couch, Taki’s voice broke the fragile quiet. “How bad was it, really?” His usual playful tone was gone, his eyes sharp with worry. Jay hesitated, glancing at (Y/n) before answering. “Bad,” he admitted, not sugarcoating it. “Bad enough that if I hadn’t gotten here, he wouldn’t have made it. But with rest, and with all of you watching over him, he’ll heal fully. Wolves are strong. Stubborn.”

Maki, sitting cross-legged on the floor, frowned. “How do you know we’ll be enough?” Jay met his gaze without flinching. “Because that’s what a pack does. You carry each other. You keep him safe, even when he can’t keep himself safe. And with that… he’ll wake up.” For the first time since they’d entered, the weight in the room seemed to lift, if only slightly. Aya gave a quiet nod, squeezing Kei’s hand, while even EJ’s rigid stance softened a fraction.

(Y/n) exhaled shakily. The ache in her chest was still there, heavy and unrelenting, but Jay’s words steadied her. She wanted to believe them. She needed to. Still, her heart ached with the thought of Yuma’s crooked grin, his bright eyes, the way he made the world seem louder, lighter. She just wanted to see him smile again.

After a few moments, Jay leaned closer, his voice for her alone. “Do you want me to take you home?” She shook her head immediately, gripping his hand tighter. “No. I’m staying. I… I can’t leave him.” Aya, sitting nearby, offered a small, encouraging smile. “Then you’ll stay. I’ll set up a guest room for you in our little cottage, and you can borrow some of my clothes. You’ll be comfortable here.”

Jay glanced at Aya, then back at (Y/n), his expression softening into something almost protective. He gave her hand one last squeeze before rising. “Then I’ll leave you in their care.” He looked around at the wolves, his voice sharpening just slightly. “If anything changes, if there are complications, call me. Immediately.”

The pack bristled at being given orders by a vampire, but none of them argued. They could all see the truth in his words: for tonight, Yuma was alive because of Jay. With that, Jay turned toward the door, his silhouette framed in the dim light. He gave (Y/n) one last look over his shoulder, silent reassurance, before stepping out into the night.

~~~

The night dragged on like a weight pressing down on her chest. (Y/n) lay tangled in the borrowed sheets, the mattress beneath her soft and inviting, but comfort was the last thing she could find. Every time her eyes drifted shut, they snapped open again, visions flashing in her mind, the Rougarou’s white eyes, the gleam of its claws, and Yuma’s body crumpling to the ground, blood blooming dark against the forest floor. She sat up, pressing a trembling hand to her face. Sleep was impossible. Her heart beat too fast, her thoughts too loud.

Turning toward the window, she caught sight of the infirmary across the yard. A single light burned inside, steady against the night. They were keeping watch. She knew the pack was taking turns, guarding their brother through the long hours. It would be one of the younger wolves by now, surely, Jo, or Harua, maybe even Maki.

They had told her to wait until morning, to give them time to clean Yuma up, to make him look less broken, less frightening. She understood. They wanted to protect her. But that wasn’t what she needed. She didn’t care if he looked pale, if he looked weak. She just needed to see him breathing. She needed proof that Jay’s words hadn’t been empty, that Yuma was really alive.

Her hand brushed over the jacket draped across the chair in the corner, the same jacket Yuma had lent her, the one that still carried his scent. Hugging it close for courage, she slipped quietly from the bed. Her bare feet were soundless on the wooden floorboards as she made her way to the door. If she was lucky, she thought, she could persuade whichever young wolf was on duty to let her in. Just for a few minutes. Just long enough to see him.

The night air was crisp as (Y/n) slipped quietly across the clearing, the lights from the infirmary pulling her closer like a beacon. She rounded the corner, only to nearly bump into Jo as he stepped outside. He blinked at her, his usually calm expression barely shifting. Instead of asking why she was there, his gaze flicked up toward the sky. The moon hung low, veiled in heavy clouds, its glow only faintly cutting through. His voice was low, steady, more a statement than a question.

“Couldn’t sleep, huh?” (Y/n) gave a small, tired laugh. “Yeah. Sleep wasn’t really finding me tonight.” From what little she’d seen of Jo, he was quieter than the others, observant, reserved, always there in the background while his packmates filled the space with noise and energy. But now, sensing the storm inside her, he seemed… softer. Willing to talk. Maybe because he knew she needed something to pull her out of her spiraling thoughts.

“When I can’t sleep,” Jo said after a pause, “I either walk the grounds until my legs are tired… or I sit on the veranda and draw.” That caught her off guard. Her brows shot up. “You… draw?” Jo’s lips tugged into the faintest smile at her surprise. He gave a little shrug, almost shy, and after a moment’s hesitation, he held up a worn leather-bound sketchbook. “Yeah. Want to see?” She nodded, curiosity easing some of the tension in her shoulders.

Wordlessly, Jo led her toward the veranda of the main house. The wooden boards creaked softly under their steps. He gestured for her to sit, then ducked inside for a moment before returning with a folded blanket, handing it to her without a word. She accepted it gratefully, wrapping it around her shoulders as she sank down beside him.

Jo opened the sketchbook carefully, flipping past a few pages before showing her one of the drawings. His lines were clean, precise yet full of feeling, wolves in motion, the pack lounging in the living room, trees around the pond she had just visited with Yuma. Even Aya was there, captured in delicate pencil strokes that somehow mirrored her warmth. (Y/n)’s lips parted in awe. “Jo… these are incredible.”

A faint blush crept into his cheeks, but he only shrugged again, as if embarrassed by the praise. “It helps me make sense of things. When the world feels too loud.” For the first time since the Rougarou, (Y/n) felt her chest loosen just a little, her mind easing away from the horrors replaying inside it. Jo’s quiet presence and his art gave her something new to focus on.

The quiet stretched comfortably between them as (Y/n) turned page after page, her fingers brushing lightly against the sketches. She could see Jo in them, his unspoken emotions hidden in the way he shaded the lines. Some drawings were full of life, bursting with movement and warmth; others felt heavier, shadows lingering in the strokes, emotions weighed down by silence. It was like reading a diary, only told in pencil instead of words.

And then her hand stilled on one particular page. The firelight practically glowed from it, the scene so vivid she almost expected to feel its warmth. The pack gathered around a bonfire, laughter etched into every line, Aya nestled at Kei’s side, and there, front and center, was Yuma. His grin so bright it made her chest ache.

Jo glanced over, catching the way her eyes lingered. His voice, soft but steady, broke the silence. “That night… was one of the first times we saw Kei really let go. He and Aya had just started to figure things out. Yuma wouldn’t stop teasing him for being soft. So… we made a fire. Ate too much food. Told too many bad jokes.” The corners of (Y/n)’s lips tugged upward, the faintest smile forming through the exhaustion. “Sounds… nice.” Jo nodded once. “It was.”

For the first time all night, her mind stopped running in circles. The images of the Rougarou’s white eyes and Yuma’s blood-soaked body softened at the edges, replaced by the warmth of pencil lines on paper, by the memory of a pack laughing under the stars. It was enough to let her body remember how tired she truly was. Her eyelids grew heavier with each blink until even holding the sketchbook felt too much.

Noticing, Jo gently took it from her hands. “Come on,” he said quietly. He stood and helped her to her feet, steadying her as she swayed. He led her inside the main house, guiding her to the couch in the living room. She curled onto it without protest, pulling the blanket he’d given her tighter around herself. The weight of it, paired with the faint lingering scent of the pack’s home, was enough to pull her under. Within minutes, her breathing had evened out, her face softening in sleep.

Jo lingered for a moment, watching her with a thoughtful expression. Then he padded into the kitchen, filled a glass with water, and set it on the table within her reach. With one last glance at the couch, he slipped quietly down the hall toward his own room, leaving the living room in peace.

~~~

(Y/n) rubbed the sleep from her eyes as she padded softly into the kitchen, her hair a little messy, the blanket still draped over her shoulders. The scent of sizzling bacon and eggs filled the air, warm and comforting, carrying her fully awake far better than any alarm could. The faint murmur of voices and the sharp hiss of oil on a hot pan made the room feel alive, even in the early hours.

Her gaze fell on Maki, darting around the kitchen with a wooden spoon in one hand and a frying pan in the other. He looked a little frantic, but there was purpose in his movements, a rhythm he was starting to build for himself. He wasn’t polished, not yet, but (Y/n) couldn’t help the small swell of pride in her chest. She had seen this spark before, the way he leaned into the work, curious and determined to make it better each time. He had potential. A lot of it.

Maki turned and nearly jumped when he caught sight of her standing in the doorway. But the surprise melted quickly into a bright grin. “Morning!” he greeted, his voice a little louder than necessary in the otherwise quiet house. (Y/n) gave him a small, tired smile, returning the greeting softly. Without missing a beat, Maki sent a quick thought through the pack’s link: She’s awake. Breakfast is ready.

She couldn’t hear it, of course, but she noticed the flicker in his expression, the way his eyes briefly went distant as if tuned into a frequency she didn’t have access to. She figured the others would be here soon. The smell of food, the clatter of dishes, the warmth of the kitchen, it almost felt like home.

Breakfast had passed in a blur of chatter and the clinking of cutlery before the pack began scattering in their usual rhythm. Some left for school, others for work, voices echoing through the halls before fading into silence. Aya lingered, though, claiming she’d called in sick, her gaze steady on (Y/n), as though daring her to protest. She didn’t. Aya’s presence was a comfort, one that made it easier to breathe. EJ, too, stayed behind, his quiet authority grounding the house even when the rest of the pack dispersed.

Over at Koyomi, Jay had already sent word to Lila that (Y/n) wouldn’t be coming in, covering for her with the simple excuse of illness. She wasn’t ready to explain to anyone outside this circle what had happened, and Jay understood that without needing to be told.

EJ guided her across the village to the infirmary, his stride calm but protective. He stopped at the door, placing a heavy but gentle hand on her shoulder. “Are you sure you want to see him?” he asked, his voice careful, not doubting, only making certain. (Y/n) swallowed hard, her throat tight. “I have to,” she whispered. The alpha studied her for a heartbeat, then gave a small nod and opened the door, holding it for her.

The sight inside stole her breath. Yuma lay on the bed, pale but alive. He looked far better than he had last night, no longer soaked in blood, no longer clinging to life with every ragged breath, but still fragile, a shadow of his usual vibrant self. The gauze wrapped snug around his middle, a faint scent of antiseptic clinging to the air.

(Y/n)’s chest hitched, her eyes burning. He was unconscious, yes, and might be for a while, but his chest rose and fell, steady and sure. The soft sound of breath through his nose filled the room, and for the first time since the fight, relief loosened its claws in her chest. At some point in the night, he had shifted back into his human form. Jay’s stitches had held, thank god, neat and strong against the angry wound beneath the gauze.

Quietly, she crossed the room, her steps light as if afraid of disturbing him. She sank into the chair at his bedside, reaching forward with trembling fingers. Carefully, she brushed his bangs back from his face, revealing his closed eyes, the familiar line of his brow. Her hand slipped down, finding his, it was warm against her palm. She held it tightly, grounding herself in the warmth of his skin. A reminder. He was still here. He had fought for her. He had survived.

From the doorway, EJ lingered silently, his broad frame filling the threshold. He didn’t intrude, didn’t break the moment, but his expression softened as he watched. There was no denying the bond. No denying the way fate had woven these two lives together. Yes, he thought quietly, his heart warm. Fate knew exactly what it was doing.

EJ had left her alone in the quiet room, his footsteps fading into the stillness as he went to tend to his duties. Aya stayed back in the main house, the sound of pots and pans faintly drifting through the walls as she busied herself with lunch. It wasn’t anything elaborate, certainly not like the food (Y/n) could have prepared, but Aya poured her heart into it, wanting to create something warm and grounding for them all.

Inside the infirmary, (Y/n) hadn’t moved an inch from Yuma’s side. His hand was still in hers, her thumb tracing small, absent circles across his knuckles. She didn’t dare let go, as though the connection tethered him here, to her, to life.

Her voice was quiet, carrying only for him as she spoke into the stillness. She told him how brave he had been, how he’d stood between her and that monster without hesitation. She whispered apologies, voice breaking, saying she wished she had been able to help him, to fight alongside him instead of freezing. She told him how the pack had come, how they’d fought for him, fought for her, and how they were all watching over him now.

He probably knew it all, he’d felt the fight, heard their voices through the bond, but (Y/n) needed to speak, to chase away the silence threatening to crush her. And then, softer than anything she’d said before, she leaned forward, her lips barely moving as the words slipped out in a whisper: “I miss you… and I want to learn more about you.”

Her throat tightened as she held her breath, waiting. For a second, she swore she felt it, his fingers tightening faintly around hers, the smallest squeeze, fleeting but real. Her heart jumped, tears blurring her vision. But just as quickly, his hand relaxed again, limp in hers as if it had never happened at all.

The door creaked open then, and EJ’s steady voice filled the room. “You should go inside and rest. You can come back later.” (Y/n) shook her head at first, clutching Yuma’s hand tighter, unwilling to leave him alone. But EJ’s gaze was calm, understanding. “He wouldn’t want you to sit here and cry all day. Rest a little. We’ll take care of him.”

Her chest ached with the truth of it. With one last, lingering look at Yuma, she slowly let go of his hand. She bent down, brushing her fingers gently through his hair once more before she stood. “You better wake up soon,” she whispered, her voice trembling. And though it nearly broke her heart to step away, she followed EJ back toward the main house, knowing deep down that he was right.

Aya was just setting down bowls on the table when EJ and (Y/n) came in from the infirmary. The smell of her cooking, simple, hearty, and comforting, filled the air, and while it wasn’t nearly as refined as anything (Y/n) would have made, it was warm. Made with care.

“You’re back early,” Aya said softly, glancing between them. She didn’t ask directly about Yuma, she didn’t need to. The shadow in (Y/n)’s eyes said enough. Instead, she shifted the subject, turning to EJ. “How are you doing? Did you get hurt, yesterday?”

EJ shook his head, rolling one shoulder with a faint wince. “Mostly just sore muscles. I was lucky. Kei and Fuma did most of the fighting. Well… besides Yuma.” His voice dropped on the last words, and (Y/n)’s chest squeezed again.

She sat down, fiddling with the hem of the borrowed sweater Aya had lent her. “Can I ask something?” she said after a beat. “How… how did this pack even come together? You all… you’re so close, but it doesn’t seem like you were all born into the same one.” EJ leaned back in his chair, his expression softening as his gaze shifted somewhere distant. “We weren’t. Every one of us lost our first packs, some to war, some to accidents, some…” he trailed off, then cleared his throat. “But we found each other.” Aya listened quietly, her spoon paused in mid-air.

“Me, Nicholas, and Taki, we came from the same pack originally. After we lost it, we stuck together, Nicho and I did out best to take care of Taki even though we were young. Then, a few years later, we found Fuma, Yuma, and Harua. They weren’t from the same packs, but the three of them had already banded together. Fuma was their alpha.” EJ gave a small, almost amused huff. “Then we came across Jo. He was alone. Quiet. Still is, I suppose but he has a lot of heart, he just doens’t always know how to express it. After him came Maki, also alone, the youngest of us all, he’s never quite known how long he was alone for, but we think he was only alone for a few months before we found him. And finally Kei. He was an alpha too, technically, he had no pack, and he had been alone for the longest of us, and for some reason…” EJ gave a shrug, almost awkward. “Both Fuma and Kei decided I should lead, I protested quite a lot, Fuma would have been a better alpha in my eyes, he had more experience and in my eyes, better leadership, but he insisted that it should be me.”

(Y/n)’s brow furrowed. “Even though you’re younger than them?” EJ smirked faintly. “Yeah. I wasn’t convinced either, still isn’t. But they trusted me, and the pack needed a leader. So here we are.” Aya reached over, touching his arm gently with a small smile. “You’ve done well,” she said quietly. EJ looked away, but the corners of his mouth softened.

(Y/n) watched them, her chest heavy. These boys, all of them had gone through so much, yet they had built something warm and whole together out of all that loss. No wonder Yuma had fought so hard to protect her. He had a family now, and he would do anything to protect it.

EJ started thinking about Yuma, his jaw tightened as he set down his spoon, the weight of his words heavy before they even left his mouth. “I should’ve gotten there sooner yesterday,” he said quietly. “If we’d come quicker… this never would’ve happened.” Aya frowned immediately, shaking her head. “Don’t do that to yourself, EJ. You can’t blame yourself for something none of you could have predicted.”

(Y/n) nodded, her voice soft but steady. “She’s right. If anyone’s to blame, it’s me and Yuma for being out by the pond in the first place. You warned him something might be close to your borders, but none of us knew what it was. If we’d stayed near the village… maybe the rougarou would’ve attacked here instead. And then…” She swallowed, glancing around the cozy kitchen. “Then maybe more of you would’ve gotten hurt. Or this whole place could’ve been destroyed.” The silence stretched for a moment. Finally, EJ exhaled through his nose and gave a small nod, conceding.

“Thank you,” (Y/n) said after a pause, her voice trembling slightly. “For taking care of me. For… for making sure I didn’t fall apart.” A rare smile flickered across EJ’s face, faint but genuine. “That’s what a pack does,” he said simply. “We take care of each other.” (Y/n) blinked at him, startled. “But… I’m not part of your pack.”

For the first time since the fight, EJ laughed. It was a low, warm sound, almost surprising coming from him. “As Yuma’s mate, accepted or not, you’re part of us now. That means you’re under our protection. It means we’ll care for you, just like we would any of our own.”

(Y/n) felt her throat tighten, but not from fear this time. Instead, something else bloomed inside her, something fragile, warm, and unfamiliar. A sense of belonging. She gave EJ a small, genuine smile, one that reached her tired eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered again, softer this time. And for the first time in her life, (Y/n) felt like she might finally have a home. A family. Something she’d never really had before.

(Y/n) and Aya went to the kitchen to wash the dishes while EJ went back out to patrol and check on Yuma. The water was warm on their hands, the steady clink of plates against each other filling the silence. Aya passed (Y/n) another dish to dry, giving her an encouraging glance before finally asking, gently, “So… how are you feeling? About all of this, the pack, Yuma, the whole mate thing?”

(Y/n) let out a heavy sigh, setting the towel down for a moment. She leaned her hip against the counter, eyes fixed on the soapy water. “Conflicted,” she admitted. “Mostly because I’m afraid. Afraid of being loved.” Aya tilted her head, not saying anything, letting her continue.

“My parents…” (Y/n) started, her voice tight. “They weren’t… good people, as I kind of told you during the interview. They fought constantly. Screamed at each other, at me. And when they weren’t fighting, it was like I didn’t exist at all. I grew up learning that love was just… noise. Pain. That it didn’t mean safety, that love was conditional, the only time they ‘loved’ me was when I did something for them.”

She swallowed hard, her hands gripping the edge of the counter. “And the guys I’ve dated? They weren’t any better. Toxic, manipulative. I kept falling into the same patterns, and every time I thought maybe, just maybe, this person cared about me, it turned out they just wanted to use me.” Aya quietly reached over, resting her hand on (Y/n)’s arm.

(Y/n) gave a small, bitter laugh, though her eyes were shiny. “So I guess I’ve always believed love wasn’t for me. That I wasn’t meant to have something like that. And now Yuma… he feels different. I want to believe he’s different. That he really means what he says, that the way he looks at me is real. But… I’m terrified. What if I let myself believe it, and I end up wrong again?” Aya squeezed her arm gently, grounding her. “You’re not wrong this time.” Tears pricked (Y/n)’s eyes, but she stayed quiet, waiting to hear more.

Aya dried her hands slowly with the towel, her gaze soft but steady on (Y/n). “Being scared is normal,” she said gently. “Everyone’s scared of love, in their own way. I was, Kei was. Even Yuma is.” (Y/n)’s brows knitted together, almost disbelieving. “Yuma? Scared?”

Aya nodded without hesitation. “Yes. He talked to me about it once, before… before he even knew you were his mate. He was terrified of never finding her, of being alone forever. And then, when he caught your scent…” Aya gave her a small smile. “He was just as terrified, but in a different way. Terrified he wouldn’t be enough for you. Or that he’d be too much, too much energy, too much emotion, too overwhelming.”

(Y/n) blinked, her throat tight. She could hardly imagine Yuma, loud, bright, bold Yuma, being afraid like that. But Aya’s tone was too earnest for it to be a lie. “He was afraid of scaring you,” Aya added softly. “Of hurting you somehow, even without meaning to.” (Y/n) looked down at her hands, silent, her chest heavy with conflicting emotions. Aya leaned closer, lowering her voice as though sharing a secret.

“If you tell him about your past, about your fears… he’ll understand. He’ll do everything in his power to help you through it. He would wait ten years if that’s what you needed.” (Y/n) swallowed hard, her heart aching at the thought. Ten years. She couldn’t even imagine someone having that kind of patience with her. No one ever had. Aya smiled knowingly, a little spark of warmth in her eyes. “That’s the kind of love he has for you already. You don’t have to rush. You just have to let yourself believe it.”

“I just have to hope that he’ll be fine now,” (Y/n) said at last, her voice quieter than before. Her eyes flickered to the window, where the infirmary stood in the distance, and her chest tightened with guilt. “But I don’t know what to do, Aya. I should go home, right? Go back to the restaurant. It’s only been one day, but it feels so wrong to dump everything on Lila and Jay. They don’t deserve that.” She pressed her lips together, twisting the dish towel in her hands. “But at the same time, I don’t want to leave Yuma. I want to be here when he wakes up.”

Aya leaned against the counter, her expression soft. “At the end of the day,” she said gently, “it’s up to you. There isn’t a right or wrong choice here.” (Y/n) looked at her, searching, hoping for Aya to decide for her, but the woman just gave her that patient, knowing smile.

“The pack will be here for you,” Aya continued. “Whatever you need. If you want to stay here in the village, we’ll make it work. If you want to go home, we’ll understand. If you want to keep working at Koyomi but still sleep here, Kei or one of the others can drive you to and from work every day. Whatever makes it easier for you.”

The relief that spread through (Y/n)’s chest was almost dizzying. She hadn’t realized how heavy the burden of choice had been, but knowing she wasn’t expected to carry it all on her own… it made her shoulders drop, just a little. “They’d really do that?” she asked, almost disbelieving.

Aya smiled. “They’d do anything to help you. That’s what being part of a pack means, even if you don’t realize you are one us yet.” (Y/n) let out a shaky little laugh, some of the tension easing. She still didn’t know what her decision would be, but at least now, she didn’t feel so trapped between impossible options.

(Y/n) spent another two hours at Yuma’s side after lunch, her fingers brushing against his hand every now and then, as if the touch alone might coax him back to her. She made a quick call to Jay about a business matter, then drifted back to the infirmary, unable to stay away for long. Time passed slowly, but she didn’t mind.

At one point, she had asked EJ if he could let her know when Maki returned from school, she wanted to talk with him. True to his word, when Maki came home, EJ sought her out quietly in the infirmary. “He’s back,” EJ told her. “If you still want to talk with him.” (Y/n) looked up from Yuma, nodded, and whispered a soft “thank you” before rising to her feet. She gave Yuma’s hand one last squeeze before slipping out and heading into the main house.

She didn’t have to wait long. Maki came out from his room, a smile tugging at his lips when he spotted her waiting. “Hey,” he said lightly, brushing a hand through his hair. “EJ said you wanted to talk to me? What’s up?” (Y/n) hesitated for a second before her own lips curved into a small smile. “Yeah. I was wondering…” she trailed off, then straightened, her voice more certain. “Do you want to make dinner for the pack with me tonight? I can teach you one of my recipes.” Maki’s eyes lit up immediately, his grin spreading wide. “Really? You mean it?” When she nodded, his excitement only grew. “Then yes! Absolutely, yes. I’d love that.”

Maki led (Y/n) toward the pantry, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet, clearly thrilled about their little project together. When he swung open the door, (Y/n) stopped in her tracks. Her eyes widened as she took in the shelves lined wall to wall, stacked with jars, bags of flour and rice, canned goods, baskets of vegetables, and bundles of herbs hanging upside down to dry. It wasn’t exactly as polished or perfectly stocked as Koyomi’s, but it came surprisingly close. She turned to Maki with a laugh. “This almost rivals my pantry back at the restaurant. I didn’t expect that.”

“Yeah,” Maki said, a little sheepish, rubbing at the back of his neck. “We kinda eat a lot, so… big pantry.” (Y/n) grinned, shaking her head fondly before starting to list off what she needed. One by one, Maki moved through the pantry, grabbing items quickly and carefully as she called them out. He seemed proud to know where everything was, placing onions, carrots, and spices onto the counter without hesitation.

As she reached for a jar of broth, she asked casually, “Do you like cooking?” Maki’s face brightened instantly, his hands pausing mid-motion with the carrots. “Yeah, I really do.” His tone was warm, full of a simple kind of joy. Then it softened, turning bittersweet. “Before I lost my pack… my parents… I used to help my mom in the kitchen all the time. She taught me a lot, though I was still little. It’s been a while, so I don’t remember everything, but I do my best. Out of everyone here, I guess I’m the best cook in the pack.”

He gave a small chuckle, though his shoulders hunched slightly as if embarrassed by the admission. (Y/n) felt her chest tighten. She saw so much of herself in him, how cooking could be a lifeline, a way to hold onto something good when the rest of the world had been taken away. To her, it was her grandfather. To Maki, his mother. For both of them, it was a tether to a memory that was worth cherishing. She smiled softly at him, a little gentler this time. “Then let’s make something together worth remembering.”

They carried the ingredients back into the kitchen, setting everything out on the counters. (Y/n) rolled up her sleeves, showing Maki how to dice the onions properly before moving on to the carrots. Just like last time, he was a quick study, watching carefully, asking small but thoughtful questions, then mimicking her movements almost perfectly.

(Y/n) found herself smiling more than once as she observed him. He had a feel for food, a natural instinct that reminded her of her own beginnings in the kitchen. Sometimes she forgot he was the youngest in the pack, yes, he could be silly, playful like a little brother, but in moments like this he carried himself with a maturity that surprised her. He listened with patience, moved with purpose, and seemed to absorb everything she said like a sponge.

Her thoughts drifted back to her call with Jay earlier that day. They had gone over some business at the restaurant, but by the end of the conversation she found herself mentioning Maki, how talented he was, how much potential he carried. She’d suggested the idea of offering him a job at Koyomi. It would give him the chance to grow, to really learn in a professional kitchen, and it would give her a way to weave herself a little deeper into the pack, too. A gesture for Yuma as much as for herself.

Of course, it would depend on Maki’s own wishes, and whether EJ as the leader thought it was a good idea. But as she watched Maki concentrate on mincing garlic, his brow furrowed in focus, she felt more and more certain. He deserved a chance like this.

The kitchen smelled rich and savory by the time the last touches were finished, golden roasted chicken in a light sauce, herbs still steaming as (Y/n) and Maki carried the main dish out together. Jo and Taki were quick to jump in, balancing side dishes and bowls as if afraid a second of delay would keep them from eating, while Harua darted ahead to set the plates and cutlery with his usual cheerful energy.

As soon as the food hit the table, the pack fell into motion, their chatter and laughter blending with the sound of scraping chairs and clattering forks. They dug in like they hadn’t eaten in days, though (Y/n) knew it was just how they always were, wolves with hearty appetites, and loud ways of showing their appreciation. Watching them enjoy the food she and Maki had worked on filled her with an unfamiliar warmth.

By the time most of the plates were nearly clean, she set her fork down and cleared her throat. “Actually, I… had a question.” The effect was instant, the room quieted, heads turned toward her, curious eyes fixed on her. She hesitated for a second, then pressed on. “It’s about Maki. Earlier today I spoke with Jay about something, and I was thinking…” she paused, glancing at Maki, who blinked in surprise, “…we’d like to offer Maki a job at Koyomi. He has a natural talent for cooking, and I think with some training, he could really grow.”

Maki froze, wide-eyed, as if his brain needed a few seconds to catch up. “W-Wait, me? A job? At your restaurant?” His voice rose with excitement he tried and failed to contain. He quickly looked over at EJ, caught between hope and uncertainty. EJ leaned back in his chair, gaze flicking between the youngest wolf, then (Y/n), and finally across the table to Fuma. The older wolf gave the faintest, sharp nod of approval. Fuma had been the one to teach Maki control over his instincts, so if he says Maki is ready, then EJ is fine with it.

EJ looked back at Maki. He let the silence hang for a beat before giving a small smile. “If that’s what you want, then yes.” Maki shot up from his chair with a joyful shout, nearly knocking it over. He bounced around the table, fists pumping in the air, practically vibrating with excitement. “Yes! Yes! I get to cook with (Y/n) every day!” He looked like he might start dancing any second. The rest of the pack laughed, teasing and clapping him on the back, but beneath all the noise, (Y/n) caught the proud smile tugging at EJ’s lips.

~~~

The days blurred together in a strange rhythm, work, meals, quiet evenings, and the constant undercurrent of waiting. Five days since the attack, and though life kept moving, there was a hollow place in the pack’s home that nothing seemed able to fill.

(Y/n) found herself growing used to the routine of the village: the morning chatter, the way everyone teased each other over breakfast, the shuffle of feet as they left for work or school. Evenings were warmer, everyone piled together for dinner before splitting into their tasks, EJ checking patrols, Jo with his sketchbook, Nicholas organizing something. She belonged here, in some way she couldn’t quite describe, but even in the middle of all the noise, her gaze always drifted to the infirmary. To the closed door. To the steady but too-silent figure lying inside.

Maki had taken to his new job at Koyomi with all the energy of a pup with a new toy. Every evening when they were driven home, he’d chatter on about what Jay or Lila had taught him, what mistakes he’d made, or the compliments he’d received from customers. His enthusiasm made everyone laugh, but (Y/n) often noticed how quickly the pack’s smiles dimmed afterward, as if remembering the one person who wasn’t there to tease him about it.

Nights were the hardest. The guest room Aya had set up for (Y/n) was cozy, but she always felt pulled back to the infirmary. Sometimes she’d linger outside the door, listening for any change in his breathing, as if she’d be able to hear the exact second he woke. Other times, she sat beside him, holding his hand and talking quietly, even if she wasn’t sure he could hear her.

Jay’s words circled her mind too often for comfort. A week, maybe two. Maybe longer. She tried to hold onto hope, but every morning she woke to find Yuma still unmoving, her chest ached more. The pack kept telling her the same thing: he’d fight his way back. He always did. But every passing day stretched that promise thinner, and though she didn’t dare say it out loud, (Y/n) was terrified.

Saturday came quietly, the air crisp with autumn’s bite. A week since the attack, though it still felt raw in (Y/n)’s chest. For once, she hadn’t gone into Koyomi. She trusted Jay and Lila to manage just fine, especially with Maki around, if anything, she was certain now that he could run half the kitchen on his own. The boy was a sponge, soaking up every bit of knowledge, his hands already moving with the ease of someone who’d been doing this for years.

So instead of rushing through the familiar motions of the restaurant, (Y/n) found herself on the pack’s porch, bundled in a cardigan against the rising winds. The trees surrounding the village rustled and sighed with every gust, the forest painted in shades of red and gold that reminded her winter wasn’t far away. In her hands was a steaming cup of tea, fragrant and calming, and on the small wooden table between her and Aya were a few pastries she’d brought back from Koyomi the day before.

The house behind them was still, quieter than it had been in days. With the pack out training in the fields and woods beyond, there were only two humans left in the village. Well, two humans, and Yuma. His presence lingered across the yard in the infirmary, where he still lay in silence. It was a peaceful day, all things considered.

(Y/n) broke that peace with a soft laugh, setting her teacup down on the saucer. “You know, I’ve never felt so much at home anywhere as I do here,” she admitted. “It hasn’t been long, and yet… I can’t picture myself not being here anymore. Like if I left, something in me would just… go missing.”

Aya tilted her head, her hair shifting gently in the wind. A small smile curved her lips as she lifted her own cup for a sip. “I understand,” she said warmly, her voice carrying that mix of fondness and certainty that always seemed to surround her when she spoke about the pack. “I felt the exact same way. When Kei brought me here, it was like everything clicked into place. Even before that, when I met Harua at work… it felt like I’d known him forever. Like he was family already.”

Her gaze softened as she looked past the trees, where faint howls and the crack of distant movement hinted at where the wolves trained. “Being with the pack, you just… feel safe,” she continued. “Even when life is messy and loud and sometimes dangerous, you know you’re never really alone.” (Y/n) let Aya’s words sink in, her fingers curling tighter around her warm teacup as she glanced toward the infirmary’s distant window, where Yuma still slept. Aya was right, she’d never been safer. Never been more terrified, either, but maybe those things could coexist. Maybe that was what home was supposed to feel like.

Almost another week slipped by, each day folding into the next with a strange, aching rhythm. Every afternoon after school, Maki and (Y/n) headed into town together, working side by side at Koyomi. He was a quick study, absorbing tips from her, from Jay, from Lila, and soon enough, he was confidently running parts of the kitchen on his own. Customers had already started praising “the young chef,” which always made him beam with pride.

When she wasn’t at Koyomi, (Y/n) was with Yuma. She sat at his side while waiting for Maki to finish his school day, her chair pulled close to his bed. Other times she tested new recipes and brought them over for EJ and anyone else who was around at the village that day, to taste. But more often than not, she sat with Yuma and just talked. About her day, about the restaurant, about things she’d never said out loud to anyone else.

And sometimes, when her hand curled around his, she swore she felt the smallest squeeze in return. Or the faintest flicker of his eyelids. Or his breathing shifting just slightly when she whispered his name. She clung to those moments like lifelines, hoping desperately that it meant he could hear her.

Jay stopped by more than once, checking Yuma’s stitches, inspecting his healing. Each time, (Y/n) asked the same question: When will he wake up? And each time, Jay could only shake his head, his expression both gentle and apologetic. “He’ll wake when his body is ready,” was all he could promise.

Now it was Friday evening. The firelight flickered low in the main house, the autumn wind rattling faintly against the windows. Tomorrow would mark two weeks since the attack. Two weeks of silence from Yuma.

The pack was restless. EJ prowled the yard longer than usual, checking the borders twice over. Kei’s sharp edge showed even when he tried to hide it, his protective instincts rising higher each day. Fuma’s patience frayed at the edges, though he never let it boil over. Even the younger wolves, Taki and Harua especially, paced more than they used to, their energy wound too tight. They had all expected him to wake up by now. And though no one said it outright, the question lingered heavy in the air, in every glance exchanged between them: What if he doesn’t?

The night was heavy with silence, the kind that presses down on your chest and refuses to let you rest. (Y/n) tossed and turned in her borrowed bed, clutching Yuma’s jacket against her, breathing in the fading scent of him, but it didn’t help. It never helped. Sleep was a stranger these days. Finally, she gave up. If she couldn’t sleep, she might as well sit with him. At least then, she’d feel like she was doing something.

The air outside bit at her skin as she crossed the yard toward the infirmary. The faint lamplight spilled through the cracks of the door, and when she pushed it open quietly, she found Taki slumped in the chair beside Yuma’s bed. His shoulders were curled forward, his face half-buried in his hands. He didn’t notice her at first. That’s when she saw it, the silent streak of tears running down his cheeks.

Her heart twisted. Taki was the loud one, the joker, always ready to banter and fill the air with chatter. Seeing him like this… it felt wrong. “Taki?” her voice was soft, tentative. His head shot up, surprise flashing across his face, but not fast enough to hide the tears. He swiped at his eyes quickly, trying to cover it, but she had already seen. She stepped closer, lowering her voice further. “Are you okay?”

He gave a wet, shaky laugh, the kind people give when they want to say yes but the truth won’t let them. “Yeah, well… no. Not really.” (Y/n) crouched slightly to meet his eyes, her hand brushing the armrest of his chair. “Do you want to tell me why?” For a moment he looked like he wanted to say it’s nothing, brush it off like always. But then he glanced over at Yuma’s still body, at the steady rise and fall of his chest, and his jaw tightened. He couldn’t keep the truth inside. “I should’ve been there,” he whispered hoarsely. “I should’ve fought. The pack needed me, and I stayed behind.” Her brows furrowed. “How come you stayed behind?”

Taki’s hands clenched into fists on his knees. “Because I can’t shift right. I never could.” His voice cracked, shame heavy in every word. “Since I was a kid, it’s always been… broken. My wolf gets stuck. Half-shifted, halfway human, halfway monster. It’s painful, it’s useless, and no matter how much I train, I can’t control it, most of the time I can’t even half shift.” He swallowed hard, tears gathering again. “Kei’s been helping me. I am getting better, but it’s still bad. And that night, when the pack needed me most… I couldn’t shift. I couldn’t go with them. And if I had,” His voice broke completely, his face crumpling. “If I had, maybe we would’ve gotten there faster. Maybe Yuma wouldn’t be…” He trailed off, unable to finish, his gaze fixed on the unconscious wolf in the bed.

(Y/n)’s chest ached for him. For all of them, really. She reached out, gently resting her hand on his arm. “Taki… that’s not your fault. You’re trying. You’ve been trying every day, right? Then you’re already doing what you can.” But Taki shook his head, his throat working around the knot of guilt. “It doesn’t matter. Trying doesn’t stop my brother from lying half-dead in that bed.” (Y/n) had no words for that. Not really. All she could do was squeeze his arm gently, grounding him, her voice soft but steady. “You’re here now. That counts for something. More than you think.”

“You should go inside and get some sleep,” (Y/n) said, Taki opened his mouth to argue, his usual stubbornness flickering in his eyes, but the moment he met (Y/n)’s gaze, he faltered. There was a quiet desperation there, a need that mirrored his own but cut even deeper. She needed this, needed to sit with Yuma in a way that he couldn’t. He exhaled shakily, his shoulders sagging in defeat. “Okay,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “Thank you.”

She gave him a small nod, offering a faint smile through the weight of everything pressing down on them. Taki lingered for a moment longer, his eyes lingering on Yuma’s face, before finally turning away, heading out the door with his shoulders still hunched and his eyes still a little red.

The room grew quieter after he left, save for the steady rhythm of Yuma’s breathing. (Y/n) lowered herself into the chair beside him, taking his hand in both of hers, clutching it tightly against her chest. His skin was warm, alive, and it was the only thing anchoring her.

Her thoughts spilled out before she could stop them, words whispered into the dim lamplight like prayers. “I miss you,” she murmured, her voice trembling. “I know it hasn’t been long, but I miss you so much.” Her thumb brushed over his knuckles, the simple touch both comforting and torturous. Tears pricked at her eyes, spilling before she could blink them away. “I like it here. With the pack. They feel like… family. And I want to share that with you. I want to see you smile with them again. With me.”

She let out a broken laugh, shaking her head as tears dripped down her cheeks. “I want to swim with you in the pond at Christmas. I want to wear something you made just for me. I want to make you dinner, just for you, something so good it makes you smile so wide your cheeks hurt. I want to…” her breath caught, her voice dropping to the smallest whisper, “…I want to kiss you. I want to know what it’s like to be loved by you,” The tears wouldn’t stop now, hot streaks running freely as she tried and failed to wipe them away. “So please,” she choked softly, “please come back to me, Yuma.”

Her body betrayed her exhaustion before her mind would allow it. Somewhere between words and tears, her head dipped forward, resting against his arm. She half-slumped in the chair, still holding his hand tightly even in sleep. Her breathing evened out eventually, but her fingers never loosened their grip. In the dim silence of the infirmary, the world felt impossibly still, except for the faint, nearly imperceptible twitch of Yuma’s fingers inside her grasp.

Sometime in the night, (Y/n) must have shifted in her sleep, because when she stirred awake in the faint light of morning, her entire body was in the bed beside Yuma. At first, she didn’t even move, too stunned by how peaceful he looked, how natural it felt to be lying there with him. It was probably the best sleep she’d gotten since the accident, deep and dreamless, wrapped in the warmth of his presence. She didn’t remember moving, but she must have.

Carefully, she tried to slip away, wanting to give him space, but the second she shifted, his entire body tensed. His arm locked around her, pulling her back against him. Her breath caught. His eyes were still closed, his face relaxed in sleep, but his grip was unyielding, as if some part of him knew she was there and refused to let her go. “Yuma…” she whispered softly, testing. “Can you let me go?”

No answer. Not even the faintest stir of awareness, except for the way his arm only tightened further, keeping her trapped against him. It was as if his body had gained consciousness without his mind, instinct taking over where his will couldn’t reach.

(Y/n) sighed, a mix of exasperation and aching tenderness. She didn’t want to leave, not really, but she couldn’t stay curled against him like this forever either. She tried wriggling gently, even softly prying at his arm, but it was like fighting against iron.

It wasn’t until the door opened and Fuma stepped in that she saw her chance. His sharp eyes immediately took in the scene, her caught in Yuma’s unconscious hold, and one of his brows lifted, though he said nothing. “Could you… maybe… help?” she asked sheepishly, her cheeks warm. Fuma moved closer without a word, his large hands careful as he pried Yuma’s arm loose just enough for her to slip free. The moment her body left his, Yuma shifted in his sleep, as though reaching for her, but he didn’t wake.

(Y/n) stood there, brushing her hair out of her face, her heart still pounding, her skin tingling where his warmth had clung to her. Fuma studied her quietly before speaking, his voice low but steady. “Even when he sleeps, his wolf knows who you are.”

(Y/n) lingered by the bed, brushing her fingertips over the edge of the blanket as Fuma adjusted it over Yuma’s side. She couldn’t hold back the question that sat heavy on her tongue. “Do you… do you think this means he’s getting better?” Her voice was soft, hopeful, almost afraid to believe it. Fuma’s lips curved into the faintest smile, a rare gentleness softening his usually steady features. “More than better. I’d say Yuma will wake sooner than you think.”

Her eyes widened, disbelief flashing across her face. “What?” Fuma turned his gaze back to Yuma, watching the slow, even rise and fall of his chest. “There’s no way you would have ended up laying in the bed like that on your own,” he said matter-of-factly. “He moved. He made space for you. And that arm,” he glanced meaningfully at where Yuma had kept her locked against him, “that wasn’t just instinct. That was Yuma choosing to hold you. Something he couldn’t have done in a coma.”

(Y/n) froze, her lips parting. The weight of his words sunk into her like a stone tossed into a still pond, rippling outward until her pulse was thrumming in her ears. “You mean… he’s awake?” “Not fully,” Fuma corrected, his voice low, calm. “He must have had a moment of consciousness during the night. He found you, he felt that you were there and he needed you closer. That means his wolf is fighting to return, I’d bet he’ll be fully awake by tonight.”

For a split second, every muscle in (Y/n)’s body screamed at her to shout, to shake Yuma’s shoulder, to force his eyes open just so she could see them again, so she could know. But she caught herself, her nails digging into her palms as she held the urge back. Fuma looked back at her, his smile faint but certain. (Y/n)’s chest ached as she glanced at Yuma, the smallest spark of relief flickering inside her. She wanted to laugh, to cry, to collapse into Fuma’s words, but instead, she stayed quiet, watching Yuma’s steady breathing, waiting.

Fuma and (Y/n) stepped into the main house, the smell of breakfast filling the air. The chatter died down as soon as the others saw them, every pair of eyes curious, waiting. It was Fuma who spoke, his calm voice steady but warm. He explained what he had seen, what he believed: Yuma wasn’t fully unconscious anymore, he had moved, he had protected (Y/n). It wasn’t the act of a body trapped in a coma, it was Yuma stirring back to them.

A quiet murmur spread across the table, heads turning, shoulders straightening. Hope sparked in their eyes, faint at first, then brighter, until the air itself seemed lighter. Even EJ, who often kept his composure for the sake of the others, let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

“I’ll call Jay,” (Y/n) said suddenly, already fishing out her phone. “Neither Maki nor I will come in today. He deserves a break, and if Yuma really wakes up… I want to be here.” Maki tilted his head, torn. “Aw, I really do love working at Koyomi,” he admitted with a sheepish grin. But when he looked around at his packmates, all of them glowing with hope he hadn’t seen since before the attack, he broke into a smile. “But… yeah. I’d rather be here for this.”

The decision was made. They were going to be ready. The whole pack set to work, almost as if preparing for Yuma’s return would will it into reality. (Y/n) and Maki took over the kitchen, laughter and the clatter of pots spilling out into the hall as they planned and cooked dish after dish, until the long table was covered in the beginnings of a feast.

Nicholas, Jo, Taki, and Harua swept through the house, dusting, scrubbing, rearranging, anything to make the space feel fresh and welcoming. EJ and Fuma hauled wood to the clearing, stacking it into the beginnings of a bonfire that would keep the chill of autumn at bay. And Kei, with Aya perched happily beside him, strung up simple but beautiful decorations, lanterns, garlands of leaves, small glowing bulbs that bathed the room in warm light. Aya hummed as she worked, her excitement infectious.

By the time the sun began to dip, the house and village buzzed with anticipation, everything glowing with hope. They all wanted the same thing, that when the night fell, Yuma would open his eyes. And if he did… his pack, his mate, his family would be there waiting.

Hours slipped by, the air in the village humming with restless energy. Every wolf felt it in their bones, Yuma’s presence stirring more and more, his wolf clawing toward the surface. The sun dipped lower, painting the sky in fading amber, and yet he hadn’t woken. Unable to sit idle any longer, (Y/n) slipped quietly into the infirmary. The room was dim, bathed in the soft glow of a lantern. Yuma lay still, peaceful, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that he was close. Right there. Almost back.

She sat down beside him, her hand finding his without hesitation, fingers curling tight around his. Leaning closer, her voice wavered as she whispered, “Yuma… come back to us. Please. Hurry.” For a heartbeat, nothing. Her chest tightened, her eyes burned. And then… A squeeze. Gentle but certain. Her breath caught, tears welling instantly. His eyelids fluttered, heavy at first, then lifted, revealing the warm, familiar gaze she’d been aching to see.

The pack felt it too, through their bond, an electric jolt of awareness, a shared rush of joy as their brother finally, finally woke. Yuma’s lips curved into the faintest grin, voice raspy but laced with playful warmth. “Missed me?” A shaky laugh escaped her, half sob, half relief. Tears slid down her cheeks as she shook her head, torn between wanting to hit him for being so cheeky after scaring her half to death, and just throwing her arms around him. She settled for clutching his hand tighter, her smile breaking through the tears. “You have no idea.”

The door burst open, and EJ nearly stumbled inside, Fuma right on his heels. Both older wolves froze for just a second before wide smiles lit up their faces at the sight before them, Yuma, sitting up, awake, talking, alive.

“Yuma,” EJ breathed, relief breaking through his usual calm composure. He clapped his younger packmate on the shoulder, firm but gentle, as though afraid Yuma might crumble under his touch. “You stubborn pup. You scared the hell out of us.” Fuma’s expression was softer, his eyes shining in a way that betrayed just how deeply he’d worried. “Welcome back,” he said quietly, though the weight behind those two words was immense.

A moment later, the patter of footsteps echoed through the hall, and Maki appeared in the doorway, his face brightening instantly. “He’s awake!” the youngest exclaimed, his voice carrying a mixture of joy and disbelief. (Y/n) didn’t even think; she turned toward Maki and wrapped her arms around him. He caught her without hesitation, hugging her tight, his own relief spilling out in the form of a laugh that cracked halfway into tears. In that embrace, she finally let out a trembling breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

From the bed, Yuma watched the two of them. For the briefest flicker, something hot twisted in his chest, jealousy, perhaps, but it didn’t take root. Because when he saw the way (Y/n) held Maki, it wasn’t romantic. It was protective, fond, the way a sister might cling to a younger brother. And the way Maki clung back was exactly the same. It filled Yuma with a strange, unexpected warmth. She was already part of his family. Already part of the pack. Still, his heart ached when Maki gently took (Y/n)’s hand and guided her toward the door. “Come on,” Maki said softly, his voice cracking a little with excitement. “Let’s tell the others. They’re all waiting.”

(Y/n) glanced back, her eyes meeting Yuma’s for a split second, a silent promise that she wasn’t leaving him for long, before stepping out with Maki.

Yuma exhaled slowly, shoulders slumping into the pillows as he was left with EJ and Fuma. The two older wolves studied him carefully, almost like parents looking over an injured son who had just come back from the brink. EJ’s jaw tightened, but his voice was steady. “You fought well. Too well, considering the state we found you in. But you’re here. That’s what matters.”

Fuma crossed his arms, his stern look undercut by the relief flooding his features. “You gave us a hell of a scare, Yuma. And you’ve got a lot to catch up on.” Yuma managed a small grin despite the lingering ache in his body. “Guess I missed a lot while I was napping, huh?” “More than you know,” Fuma replied, shaking his head, though a chuckle escaped him. EJ’s smile softened. “We’ll fill you in. But first… breathe. You’re home.”

With EJ on one side and Fuma on the other, Yuma made his way slowly through the main house, each step steadier than the last. His body was still weak, but the ache of his wounds had dulled to a manageable throb. What he needed most now was to feel clean, to scrub away the weight of blood, dirt, and sleep that clung to him like chains.

The shower was long overdue. The hot water hit his skin and steam rose around him, washing away the smell of antiseptic and the faint copper of dried blood. He braced himself against the tiled wall for balance, closing his eyes as the water cascaded down. With each drop, he felt more alive, more grounded in his body again.

When he finally stepped out, dressed in fresh clothes that smelled faintly of cedar and soap instead of smoke and battle, he felt human again, or at least as human as a wolf could. His hair damp, his body still aching, but the clarity in his chest was undeniable.

Yet there was something else clawing at him now, hunger. Wolves were always hungry, their metabolism devouring every scrap of food, but this… this was something else entirely. Two weeks without real sustenance left him hollow, aching with an insatiable need to eat. And the whole house wasn’t making it easier.

The rich scent of roasted chicken, the warmth of freshly baked bread, herbs simmering in butter, it wrapped around him, taunted him, made his stomach growl so loud that EJ snorted and Fuma chuckled. “You’ll eat,” Fuma promised, giving his shoulder a steadying squeeze. “We’ve got enough food to feed an army tonight, thanks to (Y/n) and Maki.”

At her name, Yuma’s chest tightened. His appetite sharpened, but not just for food. He needed her. Needed to see her face, to hear her voice with his waking ears, to confirm that the warmth he’d felt through those long, hazy nights had been real. He remembered fragments, her hand in his, her voice whispering words he couldn’t fully catch, the weight of her head against him, but it was all tangled in the fog of unconsciousness. Still, one truth burned clear: she had been there. Always. And now he longed for her more than anything else in the world.

The night air was crisp, carrying the scent of burning wood from the bonfire and the mouthwatering aroma of roasted meat and herbs from the tables piled high with food. Warm light flickered over the faces of the pack, every one of them smiling, relief written in their eyes as Yuma stepped outside. But Yuma hardly noticed any of it. His gaze locked instantly on her.

In the middle of the glowing scene, surrounded by decorations that swayed lightly in the breeze, stood (Y/n). She was radiant, her smile brighter than the fire itself. For a second, Yuma froze, his chest tightening in a way he couldn’t explain. Two weeks ago, she had been hesitant, cautious around him. Now… now it felt different. Like something had shifted while he’d been away in that darkness.

For the first time, he saw no fear, no walls in her expression, only warmth. Acceptance. His steps carried him forward almost on their own, though he felt strangely shy, almost like a boy about to hold someone’s hand for the first time. His heart hammered in his chest, his fingers twitching with the desperate urge to touch her, to confirm that she was really there.

But before he could reach out, she moved. (Y/n) stepped forward quickly, her hand sliding into his without hesitation. Her fingers curled tight around his, firm, grounding. Yuma inhaled sharply at the contact, his wolf settling instantly at the bond it had been aching for.

His smile broke wider than it had in months, maybe years. This was new, uncharted, but it felt right. Like breathing for the first time after being underwater too long. And he realized, standing there with her hand in his, that he didn’t need food, or fire, or even words at that moment. He only needed her.

The night stretched on like a dream. The sound of laughter and clinking plates had slowly faded as the pack members, one by one, fell asleep around the embers of the fire. What had once been a roaring bonfire was now only a soft glow, casting faint shadows across the clearing. The air was filled with the scent of woodsmoke, earth, and faint traces of food lingering in the cool night breeze.

Only two figures remained awake, huddled close together by the fire, (Y/n) and Yuma. Wrapped in the comfortable silence of exhaustion and belonging, they didn’t need words. The firelight danced across their faces, softening every line, every scar, every memory of the past weeks.

Then, quietly, almost like a secret, (Y/n) broke the silence. “I missed you…” Her voice wavered just slightly, but the weight of her words landed heavy in Yuma’s chest. He turned his head toward her, eyes softer than she had ever seen them, and whispered back, “I’m here now. It’s okay.”

The words wrapped around her like the fire’s warmth, but it was the way he looked at her that nearly undid her, the way his golden-brown eyes flickered between her own and her lips, filled with a longing he couldn’t quite hide. (Y/n)’s heart thundered, but she leaned closer, just enough that she could feel his breath against her skin. For a heartbeat, the world stilled.

Yuma’s breath hitched, his wolf howling in anticipation inside him, but still, he managed to murmur, “Are you sure?” She didn’t answer with words. Instead, she closed the distance, pressing her lips to his.

The kiss was warm, gentle at first, like testing the waters of something so fragile and precious it might break. But beneath it was the fire of everything they had been holding back, the weeks of waiting, the fear, the longing, the relief of finally being here, together, alive. One kiss wasn’t enough.

What began as tentative and sweet deepened quickly, their lips meeting again and again, each kiss hungrier, more desperate than the last, as if weeks of waiting and longing were finally spilling over in a rush neither of them could control. Yuma’s hand cupped her cheek, thumb brushing over her skin tenderly, while (Y/n)’s fingers clung to the fabric of his shirt, holding him close. The rest of the world faded away until it was only them, and the quiet crackle of the dying fire.

(Y/n)’s body finally shivered when a cold autumn breeze swept across the clearing, pulling a soft gasp from her lips. Yuma immediately broke the kiss, wrapping his arms tightly around her, pulling her against his chest as if he could shield her from the chill with just his warmth. “Maybe…” he murmured softly against her hair, reluctant to let go but knowing better, “…maybe it’s time to wrap up this party. Go inside. Sleep.” (Y/n) leaned into his chest for just a second longer before nodding, whispering, “Yeah, you’re right.”

Together, they rose and moved to wake the others, soft nudges, quiet voices, laughter from a few half-asleep wolves grumbling at being dragged inside. But soon enough, the clearing was empty, and the warmth of the pack’s house called to them all.

Inside, everyone began to settle, Aya and Kei retreating to their little house, Maki dragging Jo into his room, making sure he didn’t sleep on the floor, though met with halfhearted complaints, Nicholas and Taki bickering over who got which blanket before collapsing onto the couches, and Harua dozing off before he even made it to his bed. The home quickly fell into that quiet hum of family settling for the night.

Yuma slipped into his own room, closing the door behind him. He let out a breath, still feeling the ghost of her lips on his, the warmth of her touch lingering. He thought for sure she would head toward the guest room she’d been staying in these past nights, and he tried not to let the pang of disappointment sink too deep.

A soft knock landed at his door. Yuma blinked, heart leaping. He opened it slowly, and there she was. (Y/n), standing nervously, her fingers curled into the hem of her sleeve, eyes flicking up to meet his. “Can I…” she hesitated, cheeks warming, “…can I sleep in here? With you?” For a second, Yuma could only stare, his wolf practically howling in joy inside him. Then, his face broke into the brightest smile she had ever seen.

“Of course,” he said, voice almost too soft, as though he was afraid she’d disappear if he spoke too loudly. He reached out, taking her hand gently, and tugged her inside. The door clicked shut behind them, and for the first time in weeks, Yuma felt like he was exactly where he was meant to be.

Their story was just beginning yet it already held so much weight, their bond still growing, Yuma can’t wait to see what it leads to. (Y/n) fell asleep in his arms, dreaming of their future together.

~ The End ~

Thank you for reading this far! It was long, I know, sorry about that. Now, who do we think will find their mate next? Will it be Maki at the restaurant? Or EJ? Or Fuma? Will everyone have their happy ending? How will their ‘friendship’ with Jay turn out? Vampires and werwolves, not fighting?

Anyway, once again, thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!

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