CW: 18+ MDNI, M/M/F smut, fingering, oral sex (giving and receiving), anal fingering, penetrative sex
Consciousness returned as a slow tide, bringing with it the solid, familiar weight of limbs entwined with yours. Warmth surrounded you on both sides, bracketing you like something deliberate.
Your mind drifted to a few weeks ago, the first time you'd fallen asleep between Atsumu and Kiyoomi. That night had been born of exhaustion, the aftermath of your flashback. You'd woken up cocooned between them, their protective presence more about reassurance than anything else.
This was different.
The hard press of arousal against your lower back was unmistakable. Another at your stomach. You shifted, and a low, guttural moan vibrated from the chest in front of you.
Atsumu.
Behind you, the arm draped over your waistâKiyoomi's armâtightened. His fingers, which had been resting loosely on your hip, curled gently against your skin in the dim morning light. You arched back instinctively, pressing the curve of your ass more firmly against the hard length you found there, seeking more of that delicious, sleepy friction.
A sharp inhale ruffled your hair. "I thought we said we would take things slow," he rasped, his voice thick and gravelly with sleep.
Your own words from the night before came back to you, quiet and a little ironic. That had been before the date, before the dance studio, before kissing in the mirrored room and the long hours on the sofa after. Before falling asleep between them. Waking up like this made you wonder what, exactly, you had been so cautious about.
"Define slow," you murmured, your voice hushed in the early morning quiet. "There areâŚother things we can do."
Neither of them spoke immediately. The suggestion hung in the warm, dim air between the three of you, fragile and charged.Â
"Ya sure?" Atsumu asked carefully, his accent thicker than usual. "There's no rush. We've got time."
"I'm sure," you said. And you were. You'd never been more certain of anything. "I want this. I want you both." You hesitated, then added more quietly, "If you do."
Atsumu let out a breath that dissolved into a soft, wondering laugh. "Baby. Yes. Absolutely yes."
You turned your head toward Kiyoomi. He was already watching you, his expression unguarded, something careful and tender moving behind his eyes.
"Yes," he said simply. One word, quiet and certain, like he'd made the decision long before this moment.
As if waiting for the invitation, Atsumu's lips found the delicate skin of your collarbone. His kiss was soft, almost chaste, but it sent a jolt straight to your core. His hand, which had been splayed on your ribs, began a slow, deliberate journey south, skating over the thin fabric of your sleep shirt, down past your navel, until his fingertips dipped beneath the elastic waistband of your underwear.
You gasped, the sound sharp in the quiet room, and pushed yourself back even more firmly into Kiyoomi's solid frame.
"You're wet already," Atsumu groaned against your skin, his breath hot. His fingertips brushed through your folds, a feather-light, maddening pass. "Can we take care of ya?" he asked, but it was barely a question. His finger found your clit and circled it with a pressure that made your thighs tremble.
"Please," you gasped as you threw your head back against Kiyoomi's chest. "Please."
Atsumu didn't wait. He dipped a single finger inside you, just to the first knuckle, and you couldnât help the soft moan escaped you. The stretch was minimal, but the intention behind it, the promise, was everything.
"Fuck," Kiyoomi gritted out behind you, his own hips giving an involuntary grind against you. "Fuck. Can I see?"
You managed to pry your eyes open. Atsumu was watching you, his gaze dark and heavy-lidded, a faint, smug smile playing on his lips. You nodded, breathless. He used his free hand to throw the covers back, exposing the view of his hand working beneath your underwear to Kiyoomi's hungry gaze.
"Can I take these off?" Atsumu asked, his other hand hooking into the band at your hip.
You could only nod again, your mind blanking as he crooked his finger inside you, stroking a spot that made stars burst behind your eyelids. You felt Kiyoomi's hand leave your hip and a pang of loss hit you until you realized he was helping, his long fingers joining Atsumu's to peel the damp fabric down your thighs and off your legs. The cool air kissed your exposed skin for a second before the heat of their bodies swallowed it whole.
A fresh wave of arousal, hot and slick, bloomed within you. Being between them. The sheer, impossible strength in their bodies, in the hands now touching you, all tempered into this devastating gentleness. Kiyoomi's palm returned to your hip, slowly stroking the skin of your outer thigh.
"You're so beautiful," Atsumu praised, his voice husky as he added a second finger. The stretch was divine, filling you perfectly. He was watching his own hand move, utterly captivated. "Isn't she, Omi?"
âStunning,â Kiyoomi breathed into your hair, his lips brushing your temple. The single word, spoken with such quiet intensity, felt like a brand.
You felt amazing, floating on a cloud of sensation, but you needed more. The emptiness was returning even as Atsumu filled you, a craving for a different kind of touch.
Atsumu saw it on your face. He always did. "Can he touch ya?" he asked, his fingers stilling deep inside you, applying delicious pressure.
"Mmhmm," you hummed, a broken sound of pure need.
You felt the gentle, unmistakable press of Kiyoomi's lips to your temple again, a kiss of gratitude, of promise.
"Can you say it?" Kiyoomi whispered, his breath sending chills down your spine as it ghosted across the shell of your ear. His voice was a low, controlled vibration you felt in your very bones.
"Yes. Please, Kiyoomi. Touch me."
You felt him inhale sharply, a tiny, almost imperceptible hitch in his chest against your back.Â
Kiyoomi. His given name was still new enough on your lips to feel like something precious. The familiarity of it, the intimacy in this moment, hung in the air between you all for a heartbeat. Then his hand was moving, sliding around from your hip, his fingers bypassing everything else to go straight to your clit.
His touch was different from Atsumu'sâmore analytical at first, then settling into a rhythm that was perfect and utterly deliberate. The dual sensation was overwhelming. Atsumu's fingers pumping slowly, deeply inside you, and Kiyoomiâs drawing tight, desperate circles right where it mattered most.
"Fuck, Baby. I feel ya clenching," Atsumu murmured, his eyes glued to where they were both touching you, his own arousal evident in the strained breathlessness of his voice.
Thought dissolved. You existed between them as nothing but sensation, heat, and wanting. Your hand flew out, gripping Atsumu's corded bicep, holding on as if it was the only thing tethering you to the bed, to the earth. Pleasure coiled, tight and hot, deep within you.
"Yes, yes, I'm so close," you chanted, the words a prayer, a plea.
"Cum for us, Baby. That's it. Just let go," Atsumu encouraged, his pace increasing fractionally.
Kiyoomi's lips found your ear again. His whisper was so low only you could hear it, the use of your name instead of any endearment striking a chord deep in your soul. "Let me feel you fall apart."
It was the permission you needed. The coil snapped. Your orgasm washed over you in a crashing wave, your body shuddering between them, a blissful moan torn from your throat. They worked you through it, Atsumu's fingers curling, Kiyoomi's circles relentless, until the sensitivity became too much and you stilled Kiyoomi's wrist with a weak hand. Understanding, Atsumu carefully, slowly, pulled his fingers free of you.
For a long moment, the only thing you were aware of was your own heartbeat, loud and unsteady in your ears. "Fuck," you finally said, a laugh tangled in the expletive. "Holy fuck, that was good."
Atsumu flashed his brilliant, triumphant smile at you. He leaned forward, his lips soft and slightly damp, and pressed a tender kiss to your forehead. When he pulled back, his eyes searched yours, a question forming in their golden depths. He glanced over your shoulder at Kiyoomi, a silent conversation passing between them in a look.
When his gaze returned to you, it was so tender, so full of a love you'd almost forgotten, that your breath caught. He was nervous. The normally brazen, unshakable Miya Atsumu was bashful.Â
"Can Iâcan I kiss you?" he asked softly.
The request, after what you'd just done, was so absurdly sweet you almost laughed. But you didn't.Â
You tilted your chin up in answer.
He surged forward and caught your lips, and where last night had been careful and searching, this was certainâhis mouth moving against yours, his hand curling into your hair like it already knew exactly where it belonged. The intimacy of what you'd just shared poured into it, deeper and hungrier than anything from the night before. You fisted your hand in his messy blond hair and pulled him closer, swallowing the moan that rumbled out of him. He pushed forward, angling you until you were almost fully rolled onto your back, cradled between Kiyoomi's body and the mattress.
Your other hand found Kiyoomi's, lacing your fingers together beside your head. He gripped back, his hold tight, anchoring you. As Atsumu's tongue delved deeper, you felt it againâthe insistent, hot press of their arousal against your hips, your thigh. A fresh, slick heat gathered between your own legs, your body thrumming back to life far too quickly.
When Atsumu finally broke the kiss, you were both breathless. He sat back on his heels, his gaze sweeping over you and Kiyoomi splayed together beneath him. His eyes were dark with want, but there was something tender underneath it.
He leaned forward again, but this time his target was Kiyoomi. You watched, awestruck, as he captured Kiyoomi's lips in a searing kiss over your shoulder. It was all slick movement and shared breath, two powerful men coming together in a way that was unfairly beautiful.
They pulled apart. Atsumu's gaze flickered between you and Kiyoomi, a knowing smile playing at his lips. "Think our girl wants somethin'," he murmured, his voice rough with affection and desire.
You felt Kiyoomi go still beneath you. You turned toward him slowly, your gaze tracing the clean, striking lines of his face like you were memorizing them.
"Kiyoomi," you said softly. Just his name. An invitation.
Something shifted in his expression, the last thread of restraint loosening. He brought his hand to your jaw, tilting your face toward his, and kissed you. Deeper than last night. Settled into it from the very first touch, like he'd already done the work of holding back and had no interest in doing it again. His tongue slid against yours in a way that was both controlled and desperately wanting, his other hand sliding into your hair, cradling the back of your head, angling you just so.
A soft sound escaped youâsomewhere between a moan and a sighâand you felt him shudder against you. His kiss became more urgent, more demanding, and you gave yourself over to it completely.
When you finally broke apart, he pressed his forehead to yours, eyes still closed, his expression almost pained with the intensity of what had just passed between you. A beat of silence stretched between you, full and unhurried.
"Fuck," he breathed, the curse soft enough to sound like a prayer.
"That was the hottest thing I've ever seen," Atsumu said, his voice wrecked.
You turned to look at him and found his pupils blown wide, his chest heaving, his cock visibly straining against his boxer briefs.
A bold idea took root. "Can IâŚcan I watch you?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper. "Both of you. Together."
The air in the room became electric.
Nothing more needed to be said. Atsumu rose, pulling his shirt over his head in one smooth motion. Kiyoomi shifted, disentangling himself from you just enough to push his sweatpants and boxers down. In moments, they were both gloriously, fully naked.
You drank in the sight. Atsumu, all sun-kissed skin and defined muscle, his cock standing proud and flushed against his stomach. Kiyoomi, paler, leaner, but no less powerful, his length lying heavy on his thigh. He settled back against the headboard, and Atsumu moved to straddle him, settling his weight easily onto Kiyoomi's thighs.
Atsumu reached down, wrapping his hand around his own length first, giving it a slow stroke while maintaining eye contact with you. Then he reached for Kiyoomi, and you watched as the dark-haired man's head fell back, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard.
"Wait," you said softly, and both men froze. You crawled closer, pressing yourself against Kiyoomi's side. "Can I?" you asked, your gaze moving between them. "I want to touch you."
Atsumu nodded immediately, his jaw tight. Kiyoomi's nod was slower, deliberate, his dark eyes locked on yours.
You brought your hand to your mouth and let your saliva pool in your palm. Atsumu's breath audibly caught. But instead of giving it to him, you reached out, wrapping your slick hand around Kiyoomi's cock first.
His hips jerked up involuntarily, a strangled sound escaping his throat. "Fuckâ" he gritted out, your name falling from his lips like it had been pulled out of him against his will.
"Shh," you soothed, working him with slow, deliberate strokes. "Let me."
Atsumu watched, transfixed, slowly stroking himself. You spat into your other palm and reached for him too, and the twin groans that filled the room were music to your ears.
You worked them both, alternating your attention, watching their faces. Atsumu was vocal, praising you, his hips fucking up into your fist. Kiyoomi was quieter, but no less affectedâhis jaw clenched, his breathing ragged, his eyes locked on you with devastating intensity.
"Come here," Atsumu said roughly, and you understood. You angled them toward each other, pressing their cocks together and wrapped you hand around them, your fingers struggling to meet around the combined girth. The visual aloneâseeing them together in your grip, feeling the contrast of them, hot and hard and leakingâmade you clench around nothing.
"That's it, Baby," Atsumu groaned, his hand covering yours, helping you establish a rhythm. "Fuck, we're gonna remember this forever."
Kiyoomi's hand joined too, all three of you working together now. You leaned down, unable to resist, and pressed a kiss to the head of Atsumu's cock, then Kiyoomi's, tasting salt and musk and them.
"Me too," Atsumu panted. "Whereâwhere do you want it?"
"On me," you said, shifting to lay yourself back on the bed.
That was all it took. They came, hot and thick, painting your hands, your chest, your stomach. You worked them through it, milking every last drop, watching their faces contort with pleasure.
For a moment, everything was still. The three of you, panting, covered in sweat and the evidence of your shared pleasure, simply existed in the wreckage of the sheets.
"Holy shit," Kiyoomi finally managed, his voice wrecked.
"That wasâ" Atsumu started, but words failed him, his grin dopey and satiated.
"Incredible?" you offered, your voice hoarse.
"Better than incredible," Kiyoomi stated, his eyes still glazed.
Atsumu reached for his discarded shirt at the foot of the bed, clearly intending to clean you up. But before he could, you brought your hand to your mouth. You caught his gaze, held it, and slowly, deliberately, ran your tongue along the length of your fingers, tasting them both.
Both men went utterly still, staring at you.
Then Atsumu's grin returned, wider and utterly feral. Kiyoomi's eyes darkened again, his spent cock already showing interest.
You realized, with a thrilling certainty, there was no way in hell the three of you were leaving this apartment today.
Despite the charged, electric pull still humming between the three of you, Kiyoomi had been immovable on the subject.
"Breakfast first," he'd said, already out of bed, and the finality in his voice had left no room for negotiation.
Atsumu had flopped back against the pillows with a groan that was almost theatrical. You'd laughed, the sound bright and easy in the morning air.
Now you stood in the kitchen doorway, arms folded, watching Kiyoomi move through the spaceâcracking eggs, adjusting the heat, reaching for things without having to look for them. He'd pulled on a clean shirt and sweatpants, his dark hair still slightly damp, and there was something unbearably domestic about the sight of him.
It was strange, being in this kitchen. This was the same space where everything had fracturedâwhere one of your worst moments had swallowed you whole. You were aware of that, distantly. But standing here now, watching him make you breakfast like it was the most natural thing in the world, the room felt different.
"Yer staring."
Atsumu's voice was warm at your ear, and then his lips pressed briefly to the top of your head as he maneuvered past you toward the cabinet, reaching for a glass.
Across the kitchen, Kiyoomi turned from the stove, one brow raised in quiet question.
You didn't answer either of them. Instead you crossed the kitchen and wrapped yourself around him from behindâyour arms sliding around his waist, your cheek pressing between his shoulder blades, your eyes closing. You felt him go briefly still beneath your hands, that initial pause before he adjusted to your touch, like he was allowing himself to believe it.
Your hands spread flat against his stomach, tracing the hard planes of muscle beneath the thin fabric of his shirt, and thenâbecause you couldn't help yourselfâbegan to trail slowly, deliberately lower.
"You're going to make me burn the food." His voice came out strained, carefully controlled, and the effort in it made you smile against his back.
Beside you, Atsumu's low chuckle filled the kitchen. Then his warmth appeared at your back, his chest pressing against your shoulders, his arm reaching around you both to take over stirring the pan.
You were sandwiched between them againâstanding this time rather than lying tangled in sheetsâand the realization hit you suddenly.Â
This felt like home.Â
The soft morning light filtering in, the smell of food cooking, the warmth of their bodies flanking yours. It felt so perfect it almost frightened you.
Eventually you pulled apart and ate at the table, the three of you folding into a comfortable, unhurried quiet. You looked at them. Atsumu was leaning back in his chair, relaxed and golden, stealing something off Kiyoomi's plate without asking. Kiyoomi was cradling the mug between both hands, pretending not to notice. Your heart felt too big for your chest.
You had wanted this from almost the very beginning. From the first time you had stepped into this apartment and found yourself caught between the gravity of them both. You had thought about it in quiet moments, dismissed it as fantasy, talked yourself out of it more times than you could count. You had never genuinely believed it would become real.
And yet.
Yesterdayâwas it only yesterday?âyou had sat across from them and asked for slow. The word sat differently in your mouth now. You understood why you'd said it. You didn't regret the asking. But lying in the wreckage of the morning's sheets, certain and unhurried, you had felt the last of that hesitation dissolve completely.
You wanted them. All of them. And the wanting felt nothing like fear.
You set down your chopsticks, gathering the words.
You had all agreed, early on, to be honest with each other. Always. Even when it was difficult.
"So," you started, breaking the silence. "Is it okay? That I changed my mind. About going slow."
Atsumu's golden eyes snapped up to yours immediately. He stopped chewing, swallowing his food hastily.
"Yeah," he answered immediately. "Yeah. Of course it is."
You looked to Kiyoomi. He had set his mug down with a soft clink, and was now watching you. Studying your face with that careful, unhurried attention he gave to everything that mattered to him, searching for any trace of doubt or obligation. Whatever he found seemed to satisfy him. Something in his expression shifted, softened, opened up. A small smile touched his lips.
"More than okay," he said, his voice a low rumble. "If you're sure."
You thought about last nightâdancing with them, feeling light and free for the first time in forever. You thought about how well they treated you, how even from the beginning they'd shown you more care than you'd known in years.
And finally, you thought about coming apart from their fingers alone. The unspoken promise of more.
"I've never been more sure of anything," you replied.
Something shifted in the air between the three of you. Atsumu's mouth curved into a slow smile, like he was already thinking ahead. Kiyoomi's expression was quieterâsofter at the edges in a way you were starting to learn meant the same thing. Then his brow creased slightly, and he glanced away from you toward the counter, his jaw tightening with what you recognized, a beat too late, as reluctance.
"We don't have condoms," he said.
Atsumu cursed under his breath.
The disappointment hit faster than you expected. You were already reaching for something to say when your eyes moved between them, and the words came out before you'd fully decided to say them.
"I'm clean," you said. "I got tested afterâ" you stopped, the end of that sentence going somewhere you didn't want to follow right now. "And I'm on birth control."
Silence settled between the three of you, each of you sitting with what that meant.
You looked between them. "Is that okay?"
Because it needed to go both ways. Because you trusted them completely, you realized with a quiet certainty, and you wanted to be sure they felt the same.
Atsumu's gaze found yours and held it. "Yeah," he said, his voice lower than before. "More than okay."
Kiyoomi met your eyes next. He didn't say anything, but his nod was slow and sure, the kind that didn't need words behind it.
You reached for your coffee and took a sip. The thought of themâno barriers, nothing between youâsent a slow, unmistakable pulse of warmth through you that had very little to do with your drink.
You had suggested a shower as more of a practical step, to rid yourself of the sweat and mess from earlier.
It didn't stay practical for long.
The bathroom was small, warm light softening the tiles. You remembered sitting on this same floor once, picking glass out of your palm, finally facing what you'd been ignoring.
Now you were here with them, reclaiming the space.
Atsumu moved first, tugging his shirt over his head without ceremony, and Kiyoomi followed suit. Their bodies were all clean lines and defined muscle, the kind that came from years of discipline and training.
They'd seen most of you alreadyâhands and mouths mapping skin in the dim warmth of the bedroomâbut this felt different. Exposed. Under the light there was nothing to hide behind, no shadows to soften the edges.
Your heart kicked up, pulse loud in your ears.
Atsumu glanced back as he reached into the shower, holding one hand under the spray to test the temperature. His gaze found yours and held. Kiyoomi paused, towels still folded in his hands, dark eyes flicking to you with that same careful attention.
Fuck it, you decided.
You stripped quickly, before you could overthink it, letting the fabric fall to the floor.
Atsumu never looked away. His hand stayed under the water, forgotten, eyes tracking over you. Kiyoomi was beside you a moment later, close enough that you heard the sharp inhale he tried to hide.
The weight of their attention settled over youâwarm and intent and completely unwaveringâand suddenly you weren't sure what to do with your hands.
It wasn't that you were particularly self-conscious about your body. But standing between them, the contrast was undeniable. They were sculpted, powerful, their bodies honed by years of experience as professional athletes. You were softer, built differently, and the awareness of it settled over you all at once.
Kiyoomi noticed. He always noticed everything.
He moved into your space, close enough that you felt the heat of him. His hand came up to cup your jaw, tilting your face toward his, and he kissed your temple with a tenderness that made your chest ache.
"You're beautiful," he murmured. Simple and certain, the way he said everything he meant.
Something in you loosened. You exhaled slowly, and when you glanced at Atsumu, his smile was blindingâbright and unguarded and so full of warmth it made something in you settle. The way they looked at you made it impossible to feel anything but wanted.
The bathroom filled quickly with steam, the air heavy and warm before you'd even found your footing. You took turns under the spray, unhurried, letting the heat work into your skin.
Then Atsumu reached for the soap, and it began.
Their hands moved over you with reverence. Atsumu worked the lather across your shoulders and down your arms, his touch slow and deliberate. Kiyoomi's hands traced your waist, your stomach, the curve of your ribsâmethodical and tender, learning every part of you. When their hands occasionally met on your skin, neither pulled away.
You turned to face them, your back to the spray, water running down your chest. The sight of themâboth flushed from the heat, wet hair plastered to their foreheads, watching you with identical, barely-contained wantâsent a slow, deep pulse of heat through your belly.
You sank to your knees on the wet tile.
The water cascaded warm over your back as you looked up at them through your lashes, steam blurring their edges. Atsumu's breath hitched audibly. Kiyoomi went very still.
You reached for Atsumu first, your hand wrapping around the base of his cock, and leaned forwardâyour tongue tracing a slow, flat stripe from base to tip, tasting clean skin and the faint, musky warmth that was purely him.
"Fuck," he hissed, his hand coming to cradle the back of your head. Not pushing. Just holding, like he needed somewhere to put the feeling.
You took him into your mouth, sinking down slowly, savoring the low groan it dragged from his chest. Your other hand found Kiyoomi, already hard, and began to stroke him in a rhythm that matched the steady bob of your head. The dual sounds of themâAtsumu's breathless, barely-contained praise and Kiyoomi's low, controlled exhales that frayed at the edgesâthreaded together over the drum of the shower and settled somewhere deep in your chest.
You hollowed your cheeks, sucking hard, your tongue swirling around Atsumu's head until his hips gave a small, involuntary thrust he immediately tried to rein in.
"So good, Baby," he managed, his fingers curling gently in your wet hair. "So fuckin' good."
You pulled off slowly, dragging it out, and turned to Kiyoomi. He had gone still beside Atsumu, watching with an intensity that felt almost tangible.
You held his gaze for a moment, just long enough to watch his throat move as he swallowed.
Then you leaned forward and took him into your mouth.
His control shattered on contact. A sharp, guttural groan tore from somewhere low in his chestânothing like his usual measured quietâhis head falling back against the tile, the tendons in his neck pulling taut. His hand came to rest at your jaw, cradling rather than guiding, his thumb tracing the line of your cheek with a gentleness that contradicted the ragged unsteadiness of his breathing. Like even now, coming apart, he was careful with you.
You took your time with him, savoring the weight of him on your tongue, the way each slow movement pulled a new sound from him that he seemed almost surprised by. There was something deeply satisfying about having them both so thoroughly undone by you.
You worked them bothâyour mouth and your hands, a slow and synchronised rhythmâuntil their thighs began to tremble against you.
"Stop," Atsumu rasped, his voice strained to breaking. "Gotta stop, or I'm gonnaâ"
You pulled back, your lips swollen and sensitive. Kiyoomi drew you to your feet in one smooth motion, his mouth on yours instantlyâdeep and unhurried, tasting himself and Atsumu both on your tongue.Â
"Bedroom," he murmured against your lips, and it wasn't a suggestion.
You didn't make it far before they were on you.
The sheets were still cool against your damp skin when Atsumu's mouth found your breast, his tongue tracing slow, deliberate circles around your nipple before drawing it between his lips. The sound you made was embarrassingly immediate. Kiyoomi pressed his lips to your collarbone, your sternum, working his way down your stomach with unhurried, open-mouthed kisses, his dark hair tickling your skin as he went. He paused when he reached the jut of your hip, glancing up at you from beneath dark lashesâa silent question, patient and certain all at once. You nodded, and his mouth found your core.
The first long, slow lick pulled a groan from your throat before you could catch it. He ate you with focused, devastating intensityâmethodical in the best possible way, cataloguing every catch of your breath, every involuntary arch of your hips, until he knew exactly where to linger and exactly when to push. The orgasm built steadily, inevitably, and when it finally broke you apart he worked you through every last trembling wave of it, unhurried, thorough to the end.
You were still shaking when he pulled back. Then Atsumu replaced him, and the difference was immediate.
In high school it had been fumbling and sweet and occasionally frustratingâtwo teenagers with more eagerness than skill. This was nothing like that. This was Atsumu, grown and confident, with years of experience behind every deliberate movement of his tongue.
He was playful where Kiyoomi had been methodical, greedy where Kiyoomi had been studiousâhis tongue flicking and circling, pulling back just when you thought you had the measure of him, drawing it out with a grin you could feel against your skin. He sucked your clit into his mouth with a sureness that made your back arch clean off the bed, your thighs trembling on either side of his head, your fingers twisting into his hair.
"There," you gasped, and he listenedâhe had always listened when it countedâsettling into exactly the right pressure, the right rhythm, relentless and unwavering until the orgasm rolled through you in a long, cresting wave that left you breathless and boneless and gripping the sheets.
He pressed one last kiss to your inner thigh before pulling back, looking thoroughly pleased with himself.
They took turns, seamless and unhurried, passing you back and forth between them until you lost all sense of time. Your body was trembling, wrung out and desperate, overstimulation riding the fine line between pleasure and too much.
âPlease," you finally begged, your voice raw. "I needâI needâŚâ The words dissolved. You were too far gone, too wrung out and desperate to string a coherent sentence together.
Atsumu moved to kneel beside you, his hair thoroughly mussed from where your fingers had been. He looked wrecked and golden and thoroughly satisfied with the outcome. "Tell us what you want, Baby," he said, his voice low and coaxing. "Use your words."
You looked between themâAtsumu watching you with warm, intent eyes, Kiyoomi still and waiting, his chest rising and falling with unsteady breath.
"I want you both," you managed. "Inside me. Please."
Both of them stilled. Kiyoomi was the one who spoke first, his voice careful and even. "How do you want us?"
You sat up, your chest heaving, trying to gather yourself. The question deserved a real answer and your brain was barely functional. "Iâ" You trailed off, pressing your lips together.
Atsumu reached forward and ran his thumb across your cheek, patient and unhurried. "We'll do this however you want," he said quietly. "Both at once, or one at a time. Whatever you're comfortable with."
You thought about the conversation from last night. The honest, slightly stumbling admission that you weren't particularly experienced, let alone with anal. It wasn't that you were opposed to it, but the idea was more nerve-wracking than anything else.
"One at a time," you said. Then, because it felt important to say: "For now."
The corner of Atsumu's mouth lifted. He pressed his lips to your forehead, then looked to Kiyoomi over your head. Something passed between them in the silence, a question asked and answered. Atsumu's expression settled into something knowing. "I've got an idea." He turned to Kiyoomi. "You go first."
Kiyoomi held his gaze for a beat. Then he reached out, grabbed Atsumu by the jaw, and kissed himâfierce and unhesitating. Atsumu groaned into it, his hand coming up to grip Kiyoomi's hair, and for a moment they were entirely lost in each other, trading the taste of you between them.
You watched, your mind gone completely quiet, filled with nothing but the sight of themâbeautiful and unguarded and entirely yoursâand the slow, disbelieving certainty that this was actually happening.
"Lay back," Atsumu said to Kiyoomi, his voice low and certain. His eyes cut to you. "Youâll be on top."
Kiyoomi shifted back against the pillows without argument, his cock hard and flushed against his stomach, and held a hand out to you. Quiet and steady, the way he did everything. Something about it made you feel thoroughly cared for, like there was no version of this where he would rush you. You took his hand, let him help guide you as you swung your leg over and straddled him, your hands bracing against the hard planes of his chest.
Behind you, the soft click of the nightstand drawer. The quiet snap of a cap.
Atsumu, always thinking ahead.
You reached between your bodies, taking Kiyoomi in your hand, and sank down slowly. The stretch of him drew a quiet sound from somewhere deep in your throatâhe was thick and warm and entirely overwhelming. For a moment neither of you moved, just existed in the consuming fact of it. His hands settled warm and steady at your hips, and the world narrowed to nothing but the places where your bodies met.
"Okay?" he murmured, his thumb tracing a slow arc across your hipbone.
"More than okay," you managed.
Atsumu pressed himself against your back, his chest warm against your spine, his lips brushing the curve of your shoulder. His hands joined Kiyoomi's at your hips, and for a moment the three of you were just still. One of his hands slipped between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit, working slow and firm circles that made you clench helplessly around Kiyoomi beneath you.
Kiyoomi's jaw tightened. His hands gripped you harder.
Then you felt the cool, slick press of Atsumu's finger at your other entrance, and your eyes flew open.
"Hey." His voice was low and unhurried at your ear, his lips brushing your temple. "Just relax. We go as slow as you need. You tell me to stop and I stop. Always." A pause. "Do you trust me?"
"Of course," you answered, without hesitation. You did. You always had.
You took a slow, deliberate breath and let your body soften against his. He pressed in slowly, just to his first knuckle. The stretch was sharp and foreign, blooming almost immediately into something deeper that made your mouth fall open in a soundless gasp.
Even just that much was intoxicating in a way that made your thoughts blur at the edges. You were surrounded by them in every possible senseâtheir warmth at your front and back, their hands on your skin, their breath in your hair. You had never felt less alone in your life.
A shiver moved through you, involuntary and full-bodied. Kiyoomi noticed immediately, his eyes searching your face. "Are you okay?"
You couldn't form words. You hummed something affirmative, nodding once, hoping it was enough.
It seemed to be. His hands resumed their slow, steadying stroke against your skin.
"I've got you," Atsumu murmured against your neck, his lips warm at your pulse point. "We've got you. Move when you're ready."
You rocked your hips, tentative at first, just a slow roll. The sensation ricocheted through you, every nerve ending lit and singing. You moved again, more deliberately. Atsumu's finger matched your rhythm, and Kiyoomi's hands at your hips guided without demanding, letting you set the pace.
You looked down at Kiyoomi. His eyes were locked on yours, dark and blown wide, his jaw clenched with the effort of holding still for you. You leaned down and kissed him, messy and a little desperate, your foreheads nearly knocking together. He kissed you back with a fierceness that stole the last of your breath, his hand coming up to cup your face.
You began to move in earnest.
"God," Atsumu breathed against the back of your neck, his voice frayed. "You have no ideaâyou lookâfuck." He pressed his lips to your spine. "So perfect. Takin' us both so perfectly."
The pleasure built slowly, deliberately, layering itself with every careful movement. There was a heightened awareness to everythingâevery sensation amplified, every shift of your hips requiring more attention than usual. You moved carefully, tentative rolls that gradually grew more confident as your body adjusted and the strangeness gave way to something unmistakably, deeply good.
Kiyoomi matched you instinctively, his hands guiding rather than driving, his pace measured and deliberate. He gave you every bit of the time you needed and asked for nothing more, and the patience of it made you feel entirely safe to find your footing.
Atsumu's finger moved in a slow, shallow rhythm at your back, his lips brushing your neck. Then he stilled.
"Can you take another?" he murmured, his voice low and unhurried, leaving every bit of the decision to you.
You considered itâthe stretch, the fullness, the fact that everything already felt like more than you'd known how to prepare for. Then you nodded.
He pressed a kiss to your shoulder and obliged, slow and careful, giving you every opportunity to change your mind.
A small gasp escaped you, barely a sound at all. Atsumu stilled immediately, his lips warm at your temple.
Kiyoomi's eyes found yours. "Okay?"
"Yes," you said. "Justâgive me a second."
Nobody moved. Atsumu's hand rested flat and warm against your lower back, and Kiyoomi held himself perfectly still beneath you, patient in the way that came so naturally to him. You breathed through it, letting your body catch up, adjusting to the new fullness until the sharpness dulled and settled into something manageable.
âOkay," you said finally. "Okay, I'm good."
You began to move again, your hips finding a new, combined rhythm. Each inward thrust from Kiyoomi pushed you against Atsumuâs finger; each movement from Atsumu made you clench tighter around Kiyoomi. It was a perfect, devastating circuit.Â
Then Kiyoomi shifted beneath you, one hand leaving your hip, his thumb finding your clit and beginning slow, deliberate circles.
The effect was immediate, your skin breaking out in chills. The combination of sensationsâKiyoomi deep inside you, Atsumu at your back, that steady pressure exactly where you needed itâwove together into something so consuming it settled into your bones, deep and electric and overwhelming in the best possible way.
âOh fuck,â you breathed, the words barely audible.
"Good?" Kiyoomi murmured, watching your face.
"So good," you managed. "Don't stop."
And you didn't. The three of you moved together that in a way that felt almost inevitable, and when it finally crested and broke it took you completely apart. You pitched forward, your mouth finding Kiyoomi's, your whole body seizing around him as the pleasure crashed through you. He followed moments later, his groan muffled against your lips, his hand coming up to your back as he shuddered beneath you, holding you through it as you held him.
Atsumu eased his fingers free slowly, carefully, his other hand rubbing slow, soothing circles on your back as he did.
For a moment you stayed there, draped over Kiyoomi, the three of you existing in the warm, heavy quiet of the aftermath.
Then Atsumu's lips found the back of your neck, and just like that, the hunger resurfaced.
You became aware of him the way you always had, that pull as familiar and insistent as it had ever been. You had loved Miya Atsumu since before you'd known what love wasâhad grown up alongside him, given your heart to him freely. Then, when the time came, you stepped aside and released him toward something he hadn't yet known how to name. You had told yourself the wanting had faded with time and distance, but that had never entirely been true.
There was a saying you'd turned over in your mind more than once over the years. If you love someone, set them free. If it's meant to be, they'll return.
You had meant it as a kindness. To him, and to yourself.
Never had you imagined that not only would he return, but that he would bring someone with him. Someone who would become just as essential, like a piece of yourself you hadn't known was missing until it was suddenly, undeniably there.
You pulled back slowly, turning to look at Kiyoomi. Really look at him. His chest was still heaving, his wavy hair thoroughly messed, his expression open in a way he rarely allowed. It struck you, not for the first time, how far the two of you had comeâhow someone who had once been little more than a name attached to an old heartache had become, quietly and without announcement, one of the most important people in your life.
You reached up and brushed the hair from his forehead, fingers gentle. He turned into the contact without thinking, nuzzling against your palm like it was the most natural thing in the world. The gesture, so unguarded, so unlike the composed and careful man he usually was, made something bloom warm in your chest.
You leaned forward and pressed your lips to the two moles above his brow, one and then the other.
When you pulled back, the careful mask of him had dissolved entirely, replaced by something luminous and rare. Something that looked, unmistakably, like joy.
He took your chin between his fingers and tilted your face toward his, pulling you into a kiss that was slow and certain and achingly tender.
Behind you, you felt Atsumu shift, repositioning himself to get a better view. You broke the kiss just enough to glance sideways at him. He was watching the two of you with an expression so open and full of love it made your throat tighten.
You wanted to give him the same thing. Wanted him to have exactly this.
You turned back to Kiyoomi. "Can Iâ"
"Yes," he said immediately, his eyes already moving between you and Atsumu. No hesitation. No negotiation. The answer had clearly never been in question.
He sat up, and Atsumu reached past you and grabbed his hand, pulling him forward until the three of you were pressed together, a tangle of warm skin and shared breath. Atsumu kissed Kiyoomi first, deep and unhurried, and then turned to you.
His mouth found yours, and you reached between you, wrapping your hand around his cock. He groaned into the kiss, his hips pushing forward involuntarily.
"I need you," he rasped against your lips. "Right now. Please."
"I'm yours," you said into his mouth. Simple and absolute and entirely true.
Something shifted in his expression, cracked open just for a second. Then his hands were moving, gentle but purposeful, guiding you back against Kiyoomi's chest until you were both eased down against the mattress, Kiyoomi warm and solid at your back.
Atsumu looked down at you both, his chest heaving, his golden eyes burning. The boy from your memories was somewhere in the lines of his faceâolder now, fuller, certain in ways he hadn't been as a teenâand you loved every version of him you'd ever known.
You reached between you and guided him to your entrance. He breathed your name like a prayer, like something sacred, and sank into you.
You couldn't help the moan that escaped you as he sank in slowly, eased by the slick warmth of you and Kiyoomi both. A low, broken sound tore from his chestâlike the reality of it had hit him all at once. For a moment neither of you moved, trembling at the edges, just existing in the overwhelming fact of it.
He felt like coming home to a place you hadn't known you'd been missing.
You let yourself sink fully back into Kiyoomi, his chest warm and solid against your spine, his legs parting to accommodate the two of you naturally. His arm wrapped loosely around your waist from behind, anchoring you against him.
You shuddered. The thought of being surrounded and filled by them both, of what that would feel like, made your breath catch. You would get there someday.
Then Atsumu moved.
His first thrust was slow and deep and devastatingly deliberate. One hand was braced against the mattress beside you, the other reached past your hip and found Kiyoomi's hand, fingers twining together without a word.
His rhythm built graduallyâconfident, passionate, like he knew exact whay you needed. Your eyes fell closed, the bliss of it pulling you under before you'd had the chance to resist.
"Look at me." His voice was a rasp, low and urgent. "Stay with me. I want to see you."
You forced your eyes open and found his burning, golden gaze. There was sweat on his brow and his hair was a mess and the expression on his face made your chest crack open. You wrapped your legs around his waist and locked your ankles, pulling him deeper, and he gasped and his rhythm stuttered.
"Fuck. Yes. Just like that."
Kiyoomi's free hand found your arm, stroking slow and steady, grounding you to the bed, to the room. Somehow that made everything more, not less.
You met Atsumu thrust for thrust, your hips rolling up to meet his. Each drive of his hips brought his stomach flush against your clit, the delicious friction causing your vision to blur at the edges. He broke his rhythm to lean down and kiss youâsloppy and desperateâthen pulled back just far enough to speak against your lips.
âMissed this," he said, his voice cracked down the middle. "Missed you. So damn much."
"Me too," you gasped, the words breaking apart as he shifted his angle and found that deep, perfect place. "Right thereâTsumu, pleaseâ"
He gave you everything you asked for.
"God, you're beautiful," Atsumu breathed, his eyes sweeping over you like he was trying to memorize every detail. "Look at you."
Kiyoomi's lips found your temple from behind, his voice low and certain at your ear. "So beautiful," he echoed, his hand smoothing up your side. "You have no idea."
The words undid something in youâbeing seen by both of them, praised by both of them, held between them like something precious. It layered itself on top of everything else until your eyes stung with the overwhelming fullness of it.
"So good for us," Atsumu murmured, his pace unwavering. "Always so perfect."
Kiyoomi's lips pressed to the curve of your neck in quiet agreement, and that was all it took. The coil wound tighter and tighter, hotter than anything before it, building until it had nowhere left to go.
When it broke, it took you completely apart. Your back arched, his name tearing from your throat, your walls gripping and milking him with every pulse of pleasure. He followed with a final, devasting thrust, his cry muffled against your neck. His hips stuttering as he spilled into you, deep and endless. Behind you, Kiyoomi's arms tightened around you both, holding the three of you together through every last tremor.
He collapsed onto you, his full weight grounding and welcome. You held him, your fingers tracing the planes of his back, slow and aimless.
For a long time there was nothing but the thick, satisfied quiet of the room and the sound of three people finding their way back to themselves.
Eventually Atsumu eased out of you, slow and careful, and you became acutely aware of the state you you were in. Sweat-damp and thoroughly, undeniably messy, the evidence of them both warm on your thighs. You knew you needed to move, yet the intention refused to translate into action. Your body was boneless and heavy against Kiyoomi's chest, perfectly content to stay exactly where it was.
Kiyoomi's lips pressed to your temple. "Let's get you cleaned up," he murmured, as if he'd read your mind.
Before you could protest or attempt to find your legs, he shifted and scooped you up like you weighed nothing at all. Your arms went around his neck on instinct, your head dropping to his shoulder. He carried you to the bathroom without a word, set you down gently, and pulled the door closed behind him to give you privacy.
When you opened the door, he was there waiting, robe in hand. You pulled it onâthick and oversized, the sleeves tumbling well past your fingersâand laughed softly at your own reflection. Kiyoomi didn't laugh, but the look on his face said he found it just as endearing as you found it funny.
He carried you back to the bedroom. From the bathroom you could hear the sound of Atsumu washing his hands, the low rush of the tap. Kiyoomi set you gently on the edge of the bed, then moved quietly around the roomâfolding discarded clothes, returning the lube to the nightstand drawer, restoring order to the wreckage of the morning.
Atsumu appeared in the doorway, a warm washcloth in one hand and a glass of water in the other. He handed you the glass first, waiting until you'd taken a long, grateful sip before he settled himself between your legs. His touch was gentle, cleaning you with a tenderness you hadnât known in years.
"Was that okay?" he asked, not looking up. His voice had gone quiet and serious.
Across the room, Kiyoomi stilled and turned, waiting.
You looked between them, these two men who were wrecked and earnest and entirely yours, and smiled so wide it almost hurt.
"Are you kidding me?" you said. "I've never come that hard in my life. Let alone that many times." You shook your head. "Yes. It was more than okay."
Atsumu snorted, the tension breaking immediately, and answered by pressing a kiss directly to your cunt. He grinned, completely unrepentant, as you swatted his shoulder.
Kiyoomi crossed the room and took the washcloth from him, finishing the job with his usual attention to detail. You watched them both for a momentâthese two men, powerful and beautiful, professional athletes whose bodies were honed to perfectionâon their knees in front of you, caring for you after giving you the best sex of your life.
It occurred to you suddenly that you had been so consumed by your own experience that you hadn't once stopped to wonder about theirs. Whether what you'd shared had felt as significant to them as it had to you. Whether they were alright.
"Was it okay for you?" you asked, your voice coming out softer than you intended. "For both of you?"
Atsumu looked up at you from where he was still settled at the foot of the bed. His sharp grin faded, replaced by something softer and far more sincere.
"Incredible," he said simply. His voice was quieter when he added, "I'll never forget it. Not as long as I live." His eyes moved to Kiyoomi as he said it, something unspoken passing between them.
Kiyoomi was quiet for a moment, and you could see him turning something over, searching for the right words. You and Atsumu waited, giving him the space he needed.
"I've had partners before," he began slowly, his eyes distance. "But it neverâit didn't mean anything. Not until Atsumu." He paused. "And I thought I understood what I wanted. What I was capable of feeling." Another pause, longer this time. "But that wasâit felt likeâ" He stopped. His jaw tightened. The words were there, you could see them, but he couldn't quite reach them. "I think I...â
Your heart was racing. You knew. You were almost certain you knew exactly what he was trying to say, how much it was taking out of him to try.
"I know," you said gently, before he could spiral further. You reached out, cupping his face gently in your palm. "I feel it too."
The tension left him all at once, his shoulders dropping, something flooding his expression that looked very much like relief. Like gratitude. Like he'd been carrying the weight of the unsaid thing and you'd simply reached over and taken it from him.
Atsumu's hand found your leg, squeezing once. When you glanced at him his eyes were warm, the careful set of his expression telling you everything. That it had meant the world to him, seeing the way you had simply known what Kiyoomi needed and given it to him without hesitation.
He rose without a word, extending his hand first to you, then to Kiyoomi, and guided the three of you back toward the bed. He lay down, tugging you gently against his chest, then patted the space on your other side.
"Come here, Omi."
Kiyoomi lay down facing you, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath. You rested one hand on his chest, the other moving slowly through his hair. His eyes drifted closed, a long, quiet exhale leaving himâlike the last of something he'd been holding finally letting go.
Atsumu's fingers traced idle patterns on your stomach.
A comfortable silence stretched between the three of you, unhurried and full. Outside, the city carried on without you In here, nothing needed to be said, nothing needed to be solved. The world could wait.
You thought about the months that had led you hereâthe upheaval, the uncertainty, the moments that had felt impossible to survive. The flashbacks and the careful conversations, the slow, terrifying work of letting people in. It had been tumultuous and exhausting and sometimes it had felt like too much.
But it had brought you here. To this room, to this bed, to these two people who had chosen you as completely as you had chosen them.
You wouldn't trade a single moment of it.
You closed your eyes, sinking into the warmth on either side of you, and feltâwith a quiet, certain joy that settled all the way into your bonesâthat this was only the beginning. That whatever came next, you would meet it like this.
It was the practical choice. Atsumu and Sakusa had a long practice ahead, preparation for the upcoming MSBY Black Jackals vs. Schweiden Adlers match, and you had an apartment to tour.
Tomorrow worked. Tomorrow made sense. You said as much to each other in the middle of Onigiri Miya, voices careful and measured, the weight of everything unsaid sitting between you. After weeks of distance, tomorrow would finally bring the conversation none of you had dared to start. The one about feelings. The one that would change things, one way or another.
Osamu and Kita returned from unloading the rice delivery not long after, and the five of you made awkward small talk while Osamu moved behind the counter, pulling together Atsumu and Sakusa's order.
Kita, for his part, could barely look at youâhis eyes finding the counter, the menu, anywhere but your face. You felt the heat rise in your cheeks, recalling your earlier confession.
Then the order was ready. Osamu set the bag on the counter and slid it across without ceremony.
"Good luck at practice, ya scrub," he said to Atsumu. Then, turning to Sakusa with a notably warmer expression, "You too."
Atsumu snatched the bag with a scowl. "Yer always nicer to Omi."
"He pays me."
"I'm yer twin. I shouldn't have to pay you."
"And yet."
You laughed before you could stop yourself, and the relief of it was immediate. Something normal and familiar. Osamu and Atsumu exactly as they always were, a constant in the middle of everything that wasn't.
Atsumu and Sakusa both turned at the sound of it. A beat passed, something hovering in the air between the three of you.
"It was good to see you," Sakusa said finally, his voice quiet and genuine.
"Tomorrow," Atsumu said, holding your gaze. Just the one word, but it carried everything.
"Tomorrow," you echoed.
And then they were gone. You stood there for a moment after, not quite ready to turn away, watching the street through the window until there was nothing left to watch.
Kita collected his keys not long after, as he had a few other stops to make before heading back to Hyogo. He'd offered to take your boxes with himâyou could collect your things once you knew where you'd be landing. It was such a kind gesture, quietly offered without expectation, and it meant more than he probably knew. He had a way of doing that. Of making the unmanageable feel manageable. Of showing up without fanfare and leaving everything steadier than he found it.
You thanked him with a low bow, holding it a beat longer than necessary, because words didn't feel like enough and you needed him to know that. When you straightened, Kita smiled softly and gave a small nod. Then he too was gone, the bell above the door chiming softly in his wake.
You felt suspended somehow, caught between what had just happened and whatever came next, the present moment not quite solid beneath your feet.
The apartment you saw that afternoon was fine.
That was the most generous thing you could say about it. Clean floors, a functioning kitchen, decent closet space. The leasing agent had cheerfully pointed out the updated fixtures and convenient proximity to the train line.
What she did not point out was the windows. They were small and barely let in any light, the kind that would make even a good day feel overcast.
You stood in the center of the living room and tried to imagine yourself here. Your books on those shelves. Your photos on that wall. Waking up in that cold bedroom and starting the day in near darkness.
You couldn't picture it.
You thanked the agent with a polite smile and told her it wasn't quite what you were looking for. She nodded with practiced understanding and walked you to the door.
Outside, you found a spot where the sun hit the pavement and stood in it, letting the warmth settle over you. You tried not to think too hard about the other reason the apartment hadn't felt right. Yet it was there anyway, quiet and persistent, the way inconvenient truths tend to be.
Even on the train ride over you had felt it. Each stop pulling you further from a particular street, a particular building, two particular people.
You were getting ahead of yourself. You knew that. Tomorrow's conversation could go any number of ways, and you had no business building a life around a possibility that hadn't been spoken aloud yet.
And yet.
Seeing them today had made hope feel unreasonably possible. Atsumu had said tomorrow like it meant something.
Maybe, you thought, against your better judgment.
Maybe.
You returned to Onigiri Miya for dinner.
The crowd had thinned by the time you arrived, just a handful of regulars finishing up. Osamu spotted you from behind the counter and nodded toward a stool. You sat, and within minutes fresh, warm onigiri appeared in front of you. You hadn't told him what you wanted, but then, you never needed to. Osamu paid attention to people in the quiet, specific way most never noticed.
He moved around the restaurant while you ate, wiping down tables, exchanging easy words with the last customers as they filtered out. When the door finally chimed shut for the last time, he flipped the sign, disappeared briefly, and reappeared with two cold beers. He set one in front of you without comment and leaned against the counter.
"So," he said.
"So," you echoed.
He didn't push. That had always been the difference between the twinsâAtsumu filled almost every silence he could find, needed to know and be known. Osamu was patient and steady, comfortable with quiet in a way his brother had never been. He simply waited, and let you find your own way to the thing you needed to say.
"Did I make a mistake?" you asked. "Telling them."
Osamu took a slow sip of his beer.
"I don't think it's ever a mistake to be honest," he said finally. "I just don't want to see any of you get hurt."
"You know I would never get between what him and Sakusa have," you assured him.
Osamu leveled you with a flat look. "Did I stutter? I don't want to see you get hurt either, dumbass."
You blinked, and then laughed despite yourself, something in your chest loosening as you reached for your beer.
"What do you actually think?" you asked. "About all of it."
Osamu turned his drink slowly between his palms. You watched him and felt the familiar comfort of knowing that whatever came out of his mouth next would be honest. If he thought this was crazyâif he looked you dead in the eye and said you had lost the plot entirelyâyou would take it.
"I always liked you and 'Tsumu together," he started. "Back then. I thought you were good for each other." He paused, something thoughtful moving across his face. "But I've also watched him with Sakusa. Seen what that relationship has done for him. How he's pushed himself. How he's grown." The corner of his mouth turned, not quite a smile. "You know how Atsumu is. He's always needed moreâmore attention, more love, more understanding than most people can give. Sakusa gives him that in ways I don't think even 'Tsumu fully understands yet."
You were quiet, listening.
"But maybe," Osamu said, slower now, "maybe that's also why he needs you both."
The words landed somewhere tender, and you had to look away.
A yawn broke the silence before you could spiralâwide and involuntary, the kind that came from days of bad sleep finally catching up. You pressed your hand to your mouth, which did absolutely nothing to contain it.
Osamu looked at you with the expression of someone entirely unsurprised. "Where are you staying tonight?"
"Hotel. I got a room so Kita wouldn't have to drive me back again."
"I'll take you," he said, already pushing off the counter.
"Samu, you really don't have toâ"
The look he shot you made it clear there was no room for argument. You gathered your things while he put away your dishes, and then the two of you slipped out into the cool night air.
Osamu's car was parked in the alleyway behind the restaurant, tucked beneath the exterior staircase that led up to his studio above Onigiri Miya. You reached for the passenger door handle. It didn't give.
"Doesn't work," Osamu said from the driver's side, already reaching across to unlock it and push it open from the inside.
You climbed in.
His car was terrible.
The smell hit you firstâsomething fishy that had clearly taken up permanent residence in the upholstery and had no intention of leaving. As he turned the key, you held your breath, genuinely uncertain it would start. It did, reluctantly. Something rattled softly whenever Osamu accelerated, and the engine made a labored sound at stoplights that inspired confidence in absolutely nobody.
"Your car needs work," you declared.
"Yeah," Osamu agreed, as if this were not new information.
"Like, a lot of work."
"I know."
"Have you considered taking it somewhere?"
He gave you a sideways glance. "Have you considered minding your business?"
You smirked. "If I minded my business I wouldn't be able to help you." You shifted in your seat, which creaked ominously. "My friend Hana's family ran a flower shop nearby for yearsâtheir delivery van was always breaking down. She just moved to Tokyo but I'm sure she'd have a recommendation."
Osamu considered. "Sure. Long as it doesn't cost too much."
You hit a red light and the car idled with a sound like quiet suffering.
"You drive like a grandma," you told him.
"I drive safely," he retorted.
"There's a difference between safe and glacial."
"Could be worse. Could be Tsumu behind the wheel."
âAtsumu can't drive."
Osamu glanced at you, expression perfectly flat. "Exactly."
You laughed, and the rest of the ride passed easily. At some point you cracked the window, deciding the cool night air was preferable to the smell. When you mentioned it, Osamu explained that he'd bought the cheapest thing he could find specifically to get himself to the fish markets and back. It explained a lot.
"You could at least get it cleaned," you said.
"I could," he agreed, in the tone of someone who had no intention of doing so.
You sat back and let the quiet settle, the city moving past in soft pools of light.
The hotel appeared before you were quite ready for it. Osamu pulled up to the curb and put the car in park, the engine settling into its unhappy idle.
You climbed out, then leaned down to the open window. "Thank you," you said. "For all of it."
Osamu looked at you steadily. In the warm glow of the streetlight, he looked more like Atsumu than he usually did. "Everything's going to be okay," he said. Simple and unhesitating, the way he said everything he meant. It cost him nothing to say it.
It meant everything to hear it.
"I hope you're right," you replied.
He gave you one short nod, then pulled back onto the street and disappeared around the corner, rattling softly into the night.
You stood on the sidewalk for a moment in the cool air, looking up at nothing in particular, and let yourself feel itâthe fear and the hope and the dizzying strangeness of standing on the edge of something you couldn't yet name.
Then you went inside.
You spent the next day trying not to think about the evening.
You did not succeed.
By the time you were standing outside the familiar door of Atsumu and Sakusa's apartment, your heart was hammering against your ribs. You'd changed multiple times before landing on something that felt like yourselfânice, but not trying too hard. A small victory, considering most of your clothes were currently boxed up and back in Hyogo.
The walk from the station had been cool and clear, the kind of autumn evening where the air carried that particular bite that arrived just before the weather turned for good. You'd been grateful for it, for something sharp and immediate to focus on that wasn't the fact that you were about to sit across a table from two people who had rearranged the contents of your entire heart.
You knocked.
Footsteps. Then the door opened, and it was Sakusa.
The sight of him took your breath away. He was wearing a soft, cream-colored sweater that seemed at odds with his usual sharp presentation and made him look warmer, somehow. His hair was loose, the natural curl of it framing his face, and his dark eyes found yours immediately.
"Hi," you managed.
"Hello," he replied, and stepped back to let you in.
The apartment pulled you in like a current. It felt exactly the same, familiar in a way that made your throat feel tight. Like coming back to a place you hadn't let yourself miss until you were already standing in it.
Atsumu appeared from the hallway a moment later, and whatever composure you'd assembled on the walk over fell by the wayside.
He'd made an effort. His usually chaotic hair had been tamed, and he was wearing a dark button-down with the sleeves rolled to the elbows, collar open just enough to be devastating. He looked good. They both didâthe kind of good that made you feel slightly ridiculous for ever thinking you could be in the same room as either of them and feel nothing.
"It's good to see you," Atsumu offered, his voice warm and careful.
"It's good to see you both," you said, trying not to let it show how much you meant it.
Kiyoomi moved toward the kitchen. "Dinner should be ready soon. Can I get you something to drink?"
You knew, logically, that you should keep a clear head. You said yes anywayâyou needed something to do with your hands, something to sip on, some small act of normalcy to anchor you to the room.
Atsumu guided you toward the table while Kiyoomi disappeared behind the kitchen counter. You stood in front of it for a momentâthe same table where the three of you had eaten together so many times. Where, weeks ago, you had upended everything and then fled to the countryside before anyone could respond.
It looked exactly the same. White cloth napkins folded neatly. Three place settings. A candle in the center, burning low.
Atsumu appeared at your shoulder with a glass of wine, and you took it gratefully.
"How have you been?" he asked.
"I'm okay," you answered, automatically, taking a sip.
He looked at you closely, and the furrow in his brow told you everything. You'd put your walls back up without even noticing.
"I'mâ" you started again, and this time let yourself be honest. âI've had time to think. To process everything." You exhaled. "It helped."
Something in his expression eased. "I'm glad," he murmured.
You noticed, suddenly, how close you were standing. Close enough that you could see the particular shade of gold in his eyes, could have reached out and brushed his hand. The awareness of it moved through you in a slow wave.
"How did the apartment tour go?" he asked.
You let out a breath that was almost a laugh. "Terrible. It got absolutely no light. I stood in the living room and tried to imagine my life there and justâŚcouldn't do it." You looked around the apartment. "It's hard to beat this place."
Something shifted in Atsumu's face at thatâa brief, unguarded flicker of something reflective, something almost hopeful, before he smoothed it over.
Sakusa emerged from the kitchen then, carrying a dish that smelled extraordinary, and the three of you moved in easy orbit around each other to get everything to the tableâthe comfortable choreography of people who had once shared a home.
"You really didn't have to do all of this," you told them, settling into your chair.
"It's the least we could do," Sakusa replied, with a quiet certainty that made it impossible to argue with.
Dinner was easy in the way that the three of you had always been easy together, once you'd found your footing. You complained about having to go back into the office after weeks of working remote, and the backlog of tasks waiting for you there. They talked about the upcoming match against the Adlers, and you watched them come alive in the way they only did when volleyball was involved.
"You should come," Atsumu urged.
You glanced at Sakusa.
He was already looking at you. "You should," he agreed earnestly.
Something warm moved through your chest. Your mind drifted to Atsumu at seventeenâthe impossible force of him, the way a gymnasium full of people would hold their breath when he set up a serve. It had been years since youâd seen him play in person.Â
Sakusa was differentâyouâd never seen him play. It was hard not to wonder how he carried himself on the court, if that same composed exterior gave way to something fiercer.
"I'd love to," you answered.
Atsumu looked so pleased with himself that you had to look away to keep from smiling too wide.
After you'd eaten your fill, a different kind of quiet settled over the table. Not uncomfortable, but chargedâlike the air before a storm. You caught Atsumu and Kiyoomi exchanging a glance, something careful passing between them, and you understood.
No more circling.
You took a breath and set down your glass.
"I'm sorry," you began, your voice quieter than intended. You kept your eyes on the table, focused on the way the candlelight moved across the surface. "About what I saidâabout how I handled it. I should have stayed and talked to you instead of running. The way I left wasn't fair to either of you."
You made yourself look up.
"I've spent the last few weeks convincing myself I ruined everything. That I'd made things so uncomfortable between us that you'd be relieved not to have me around anymore."
Something shifted in Atsumu's expression. He opened his mouth.
"I know," you said quickly, before he could. "I know it's not that simple. But when I leftâthe way things wereâŚ" You folded your hands in your lap to keep them from shaking. "I got comfortable. Too comfortable. And I let myself feel things I had no business feeling, and then I just kept leaning into them instead of pulling back like I should have."
You exhaled slowly. âAfter that nightâwhen everything happened, when you took care of meâŚwhen I woke up between youâI realized Iâd crossed a line. I wanted something that wasnât possible. So I thought the kindest thing I could do was leave before I made it any worse. To give you space to go back to how things were before I messed it all up.â
The candle between you flickered.
Sakusa was watching you with a quiet, unblinking focus. Atsumu had gone very still.
"But I've missed you," you admitted, and meant it more than you'd expected. You hadn't known, until you said it, how much weight those words held. How long you'd been holding them.
 "Both of you. Not the idea of you, not some future version of this that might never happen. Justâyou. The way things were when we were all in this apartment and it felt like somewhere I actually belonged." You exhaled slowly. "And I'm sorry that I let my own fear make me handle it the way I did. You deserved better than that."
The silence that followed was only a few seconds long, but it felt like an eternity.
âWhat if it was possible?â
Your gaze snapped to Atsumu, confusion knitting your brow. âWhat do you mean?â
âYou said you wanted something that isnât possible,â he said, softer now. âWhat if I told youâwhat if we told youâthat it was?â
Your eyes flicked between them. âI donât understand.â
Atsumu let out a quiet breath, leaning forward, forearms braced on the table. His gaze didnât waver. âYour confession didnât make things worse. It made us look at something weâd both been avoiding.â
He paused, glancing at Sakusa.
âWeâve had feelings for you for a while,â he continued. âBoth of us. We justâŚhadnât said it out loud yet. Not even to each other.â
âYou didnât break anything,â Sakusa said, voice low and steady. âIf anything, you were the only one of us honest enough to say it first.â
Time seemed to stop. You heard the words. Understood them. And then sat very still while your brain attempted, with limited success, to make them real.
Atsumu watched you nervously, clearly restraining himself from filling the silence.
"Both of you," you breathed.
"Both of us," Sakusa confirmed.
"Iâ" you started, and then stopped, because there were too many things trying to come out at once.
You'd spent weeks living with the feeling of wanting them. Turning it over and over, feeling it run beneath everything else like a current. But you had never once let yourself go this far. It had felt like asking for something too impossible to want.
And now the two ment youâd been thinking about constantlyâthe ones you'd decided could never want you backâhad just said otherwise, and you had absolutely no idea what to do with your hands.
"We can take this slow," Atsumu continued gently. "We're not asking you to decide anything tonight. We justâwe want you to know how we feel. Both of us." He exhaled. "We love spending time with you. We've missed having you here. We want you around. But it's also more than that." His eyes came back to yours, deliberate and unhesitating. "We're both attracted to you. We want you. And we needed you to know that, before anything else."
He let his confession settle for a moment. "But we need to know how you actually feel. All of us on the same page. That's what matters."
"We are," you said, the certainty in your voice surprising even you.
Something moved across both their facesâa quiet, shared exhale of relief, like they'd been bracing for a different answer. Atsumu's shoulders dropped slightly. Sakusaâs gaze softened at the edges.
You hesitated, just slightly. "I justâŚare you sure? I don't want to be something that comes between you."
"I don't see it that way." Sakusa's voice was quiet but immediate.
You turned to him, still half-dazed. He was watching you with that look of his that made you feel both seen and unsteady.
âThere was a point where I thought you might," he admitted. "When you first moved in, I was aware of your history with Atsumu. I noticed how he opened up around you, and thenâ" He exhaled slowly through his nose. "How he looked at you. And I wasn't sure what to do with that. But then I couldn't fault him for it, because I couldn't help looking at you either."Â
Your heart beat even faster. Sakusa Kiyoomi, admitting he couldn't help looking at you.
"But after living with you, getting to know youâyou're not a threat to what we have. If anythingâŚâ His gaze moved briefly to Atsumu, then back to you. "I think you make us better. The three of us together. There's something that exists when you're in the room that isn't there when you're not."
Atsumu glanced between you and Sakusa, something soft settling across his face. âYeah," he said. "That's exactly it."
The candlelight moved between you. You looked at them both and found you had no idea what to say nextâyou were still waiting for all of this to feel real.
"Can I ask you something?" Atsumu ventured, after a moment.
"Anything," you replied softly.
"When did it start? For you?"
You thought about it for a moment. "Honestly?"
They both nodded.
"About a week after I moved in," you began. "When I bleached your hair." You glanced at Atsumu. "Being that close to you againâI don't know. It just felt like home, and reminded me why I fell for you the first time." You looked at your hands. "After that it was hard to pretend I didn't feel it."
Atsumu's eyes softened. He didn't interrupt, just held your gaze and let you continue.
"With you it was different, Sakusa," you said, glancing over. "I was attracted to you almost immediately, but I was also terrified of you. I was certain that if you ever sensed how I felt about Atsumu, you'd see me as a threat."
He blinked. "Are you calling me Sakusa right now?"
You faltered. "Iâyes?"
He said your name, even and unhurried. "We're discussing being in a polyamorous relationship together. I think you can use my given name."
Atsumu laughedâshort and genuine, the weight of the moment lifting just slightly. Even you couldn't help but smile, catching the absurdity of it.Â
When things settled, Atsumu nodded at you. "Go on. Tell us when it changed. With Kiyoomi."
"Once I stopped being afraid of you," you continued, "I saw the other side of youâthe way you are when you're not on guard. The small things you did without thinking. The way you paid attention." You met his eyes. "I think I started falling for you around the time I realized you weren't cold at all, Kiyoomi. You just needed to feel safe."
His expression softened briefly, and then you saw something else move across it. The word safe, you realized, had landed somewhere specific.
"I'm sorry for what happened that day," he said. "For startling you, and for hurting you. I don't want you to feel that way around me. Not ever."
"You didn't," you insisted. "I meanâit wasnât your fault. I was just scared in the moment."
"I'm sorry for how I left," you added. "I panicked. I should have given us all a chance to actually talk."
"We're talking now," he said.
"We're talking now," you agreed.
A quiet beat settled over the table. Then Atsumu leaned forward slightly. "Can I ask something else?"
You nodded.
"Are your feelings for usâphysical too?"
You paused, looking pointedly between them both.
"I mean," you replied, "yes. Look at the two of you."
A laugh escaped Atsumu, low and thoroughly satisfied. Kiyoomi's mouth curved into a quiet smirk, both of them were far too pleased with themselves.
"Okay, yeah, fair," Atsumu agreed, still grinning. "I justâI want to make sure you'd be okay with that. Being with us both." He lost some of his confidence on the next part, bumbling through it in a way that was entirely unlike him. "Because we've thought about it. Both of us. Together, with you. And I don't want you to feel any pressure, I justâwe needed to be honest."
"I've thought about it too," you admitted, and watched the careful restraint on both their faces quietly crack.
Kiyoomi leaned forward slightly. "Have you been in a relationship like this before?"
"No," you answered. "I've only ever been with two people." You didn't name themâyou didn't need to. "And the first time I was young. We were both still figuring out who we were." You glanced at Atsumu, who looked mildly sheepish. "I didn't really know what I wanted back then."
"Do you know what you want now?" Kiyoomi pressed.
"I'm starting to," you told him.
After a moment, Atsumu said, "We've been thinking about this a lot. Not just the physical partâall of it. What it would actually look like. How it would work."
"There are things we should talk through," Kiyoomi noted, already working through his mental list. "Expectations. Boundaries. How we communicate when something isn't working. What we tell people, and who."
Atsumu nodded, turning his glass slowly. "Jealousy," he said carefully. "That's the thing I keep coming back to." He glanced at you, then at Kiyoomi. "NotâI'm not worried about wanting to be with both of you. But there's going to be time. Time I spend with you," he looked at you, "and time I spend with Omi, and time Omi spends with you, and I don'tâI need to know that no one's going to feel like an afterthought. That we're all paying attention."
The table was quiet. You let the weight of it sit.
"And I won't pretend it's not complicated,â you admitted. âBut honestly?" You looked between them. "I've loved watching you two together. Not justâit's not just physical, I mean the way you are with each other. You're good together. You make each other better." Something in your chest pulled, warm and certain. "What I feel for you isn't the same for both of youâit's different. But it isn't less. And I don't think what I feel for one of you takes anything away from the other."
Something in your words seemed to soothe Atsumu.
"We say something,â Kiyoomi said, simply. âBefore it becomes something else."
"We've had to learn that," Atsumu admitted, with a look at Kiyoomi that carried years of history in it.
"It just requires more intention," Kiyoomi mused. "Making sure no one feels like an afterthought."
"I would never want either of you to feel like that," you murmured.
"Same," Atsumu echoed.
"Same," Kiyoomi agreed.
You sat with it all for a momentâthe strange reality of three adults at a dining table negotiating the terms of something with no standard blueprint. There was something almost absurd about it, and yet it was the most honest conversation you'd ever had.
"What about outside of this?" you asked. "In the world. What does this look like to other people?"
The mood shifted, and Atsumu and Kiyoomi exchanged a look.
"We're not going to hide," Atsumu said. "We can go out. Live our lives. But we're not going to broadcast it either. Not publicly. Not yet." He paused. "The people we trust will know. Everyone else doesn't need to."
"There are real stakes," Kiyoomi added. "Careers. Families. People who would decide for us that it's wrong." He held your gaze. "We just have to be thoughtful about who we let in and when. Is that okay?â
You nodded. "More than okay. I'd rather figure it out with you than not have this at all."
Something in Atsumu's expression eased completely. He looked at you, really looked at you, and then his shoulders droppedâthe same relief that had been on his face the day you'd moved in, when he'd opened the door and laughed and pulled you inside like no time had passed at all.
"Then we start small," he said. "The three of us. Somewhere that's just ours for now." He glanced at Kiyoomi. "A first date."
Kiyoomi nodded once. "Something proper."
The image of itâsomewhere warm and low-lit, the three of you at the beginning of something newâmade your heart dance in your chest.
"I'd like that," you answered.
Atsumu grinnedâwide and brilliant, the smile that had been making you feel like the most important person in the room since the day you met. Kiyoomi's eyes were simply, devastatingly soft.
"Good," Atsumu announced. "It's settled then."
You looked at the two of them across the table and felt something warm and joyous rise in you that you hadn't been prepared for.
There was still so much to figure out. Hard conversations ahead, questions neither of you had thought to ask yet, a thousand small negotiations still to come. You knew that.
But sitting here, with the candlelight between you and both of them looking back at you like thisâyou found you weren't afraid of any of it.
They refused to tell you anything except to dress nicely.
Against your better judgment, you took this as a reason to go shopping. Most of your wardrobe was still in Hyogo anywayâthat was the practical argument. The less practical argument, the one you admitted only to yourself on the train, was that you wanted to find something that would make them look at you.
You enjoyed the process more than you expected. There was something lighter about the afternoon, a looseness in your chest you hadn't felt in a long time, and you moved through the racks unhurried, trying things on without the usual critical commentary in your head. You thought about Atsumu's grin across the dinner table. About the tenderness in Kiyoomi's eyes when you said his name for the first time. You held a dress up against yourself and wondered if they would like itâand the thought made you smile instead of spiral, which felt like its own small miracle.
You knew you'd found it the moment you stepped out of the fitting room.
It was blackâfitted through the torso, the fabric skimming your curves before flaring gently toward the floor. Wide square straps framed the front cleanly, giving nothing away. The back, however, was another matter entirely. It was open and low, a single satin bow placed at the base of the spine. You turned in the mirror and held your own gaze, something in the reflection refusing to let you look away.
You bought it immediately.
They answered the door together.
Atsumu's hair had been tamed once again, and he was wearing a charcoal suit that had no business fitting him the way it did. Kiyoomi stood just behind him in black, a tie knotted precisely at his throat, his posture as immaculate as ever. You thought, distantly, that it was genuinely unreasonableâboth of them, looking like that, and somehow they were yours.
You watched them take you in.
"Holy shit," Atsumu managed, all composure forgotten.
You smiled, then turned slowly to show off the back before glancing over your shoulder. "You like it?"
He made a sound that wasn't quite a word.
"You look beautiful," Kiyoomi stated, with the plain sincerity that was becoming one of your favorite things about him.
The three of you stood there for a moment in the open doorway, just looking at each other, a little dazed by the fact that this was actually happening.
"So," you ventured finally. "Do I finally get to know where we're going?"
Atsumu pulled himself together enough to smirk. "Dinner first."
You sighed dramatically, though the grin you were fighting gave you away entirely. Atsumu stepped out past you onto the landing, clearly delighted with himself. Kiyoomi followed, pulling the door shut behind him, then paused.
His eyes moved over you. "Where's your jacket?"
"I don't really have one that goes with the dress," you admitted.
He scoffed, and without any further discussion, shrugged off his suit jacket and settled it across your shoulders.
It swallowed you. The fabric was warm from his body and smelled like himâcedar and something clean and entirely his own. You looked down at the sleeves pooling past your wrists and felt, absurdly, like something claimed. Like something kept.
You glanced up at Atsumu. He was watching the two of you with an expression you hadn't quite seen on him beforeâwarm and wanting all at once, like something he'd imagined and couldn't quite believe was real.
"Thank you," you murmured, looking up at Kiyoomi.
He gave a small nod, and placed one hand at the small of your back to guide you toward the stairs.
The restaurant was exactly the kind of place you'd have felt guilty about on any other occasion. The lighting was amber and low, the seating so plush it made you want to sink in and never leave. A hostess guided the three of you toward a table in a quieter corner.
You ordered drinks. Kiyoomi requested a gin and tonic without even glancing at the cocktail menu. Atsumu ordered an old fashioned, which was, you thought, a very committed choice for someone with a notorious sweet tooth.
He took a sip and his face soured immediately.
Kiyoomi looked at him with fond suffering. "I don't know why you keep ordering things you know you won't enjoy.â
"It's a distinguished drink," Atsumu insisted, swirling the liquid in his glass. "I'm developing a taste for it."
He took another sip and almost successfully concealed the grimace, then set the glass back on the table.
Without entirely thinking about it, you slid your own glass across to himâa special that was bright and cold and full of fruitâand picked up his old fashioned.
The bourbon was smooth and warm, the burn of it spreading through your chest in a slow wave. You set the glass back down and glanced up to find both of them watching you.
You replayed the moment and understood.
Your lips had been where Atsumu's were, and the heat that crept up your face was entirely disproportionate to what had actually happened.
Atsumu looked like he had just won something.
âItâs good,â you managed.
He grinned.
The conversation deepened as the evening stretched, loosened by good food and the particular bravery that comes from finally having started a thing you'd been afraid to start. You talked about what slow meant to each of you. Not a restriction, but a choiceâto do this carefully, to make room for each other, to build something worth keeping.
When the check came, Atsumu reached for it before anyone could object. You made a move for your purse. The look they both shot you made it very clear you wouldn't win that one, and you put it away without argument.
"Ready for the next stop?" Atsumu asked.
They led you through a part of the city you didn't know wellâside streets and softer lighting, the bustle of the main roads falling away behind you. The night had gotten colder, and you were grateful, again, for the jacket still draped over your shoulders.
You were walking side by side when Kiyoomi's hand found yours.
It was tentativeâjust the brush of his fingers against your knuckles, with the hesitance of someone who didn't do things like this easily and was choosing to anyway. You turned your hand over and slipped your fingers through his, and you felt his grip settle. Warm and sure.
On your other side, Atsumu pressed close, and you looped your free arm through his without thinking, and the three of you moved through the city like thatâunhurried, something new and fragile and quietly extraordinary passing between you.
They came to a stop in front of a building with a small directory of businesses by the door.
You looked at it. Looked at them.
âThis is us,â Atsumu confirmed.
You followed them inside and into an elevator, the doors sliding shut around the three of you in comfortable silence. When they opened again, a frosted glass door waited at the end of the hall, the words dance studio written across the glass.
You stared at it.
"What is this?" you asked carefully.
Atsumu stepped in front of you, reading your face. He looked uncertain for a moment, like someone who had planned something thoughtful and was suddenly worried it had missed. "I know it's been a while since you've danced. But I remember how much you used to love it. At Inarizakiâthe way you'd light up on the sideline, even just cheering." He paused. "I thought you might want to find that again."
"We wanted to learn together," Kiyoomi added, simply, from behind you.
You looked at the frosted glass door. At the faint sound of music bleeding through from inside.
Something hot and blurry moved through your chest and climbed toward your eyes before you could stop it. You blinked, tilting your head back slightly.
For so long you had shed the things that made you youâquietly, piece by piece, trying to make yourself smaller and more acceptable and easier to love. Dancing had been one of the first things to go. You'd told yourself it didn't matter. That it was fine. That people gave things up.
You hadn't let yourself miss it until right now, standing outside a studio you didn't know existed twenty minutes ago, with two people who had remembered something about you that you'd almost forgotten about yourself.
"Thank you," you whispered, looking up and blinking hard against the heat behind your eyes. You weren't only thanking them for the surprise, and all three of you knew it.
Atsumu moved first, folding you into his arms. You felt Kiyoomi's hand come to rest between your shoulder blades, warm and steady, and you stood between them for a moment and breathed.
"Okay," you said, pulling back and swiping quickly at the corner of your eye. "Let's go dance."
Atsumu pressed a kiss to the top of your head before pulling away. Kiyoomi opened the door for you.
The studio was warm and intimate, the floors pale wood and the walls lined with mirrors that flooded the room with light. Two instructors met you at the door, and if the particular configuration of your group gave them any pause, they hid it graciously.
They asked about your skill levels. You were surprised to learn that Kiyoomi had learned a few basic dances as a child. His parents' doing, he noted, in the tone of someone who had not been given a choice in the matter. Something about picturing a small, serious Kiyoomi being marched to dance lessons made it very difficult not to smile.
You'd taken dance lessons as a girl, and loved themâthe freedom of it, the way your body could say things you didn't have words for. But as you got older, your parents had steered you toward more practical pursuits with the persistence of people who had already decided what your future should look like. You hadn't fought them on it. The cheer squad at Inarizaki had been the compromise you'd made with yourself, the closest you could get. It had been enough, mostly.
Atsumu had no experience whatsoever. What he lacked in training, he would make up for in confidence and raw athleticismâand you knew better than anyone that when Atsumu Miya put his mind to something, it was only a matter of time.
One instructor guided you and Kiyoomi to one side of the room, while the other took Atsumu to the other end to walk him through the basics. You tried not to laugh as you heard him grumble something under his breath, clearly indignant at being the odd one out.
Your instructor ran you both through a simple combination, then stepped back to watch.
Kiyoomi was a good lead.
More than good, actually. He was precise and steady, his frame solid where yours met it. You'd expected him to be stiff, but he moved with a quiet, unassuming graceâone hand resting at your waist, the other holding yours with a tenderness that made it hard to focus on your feet.
You couldn't help the wide smile that spread across your face.
"Omi, you're amazing," you told him.
"Why do you sound so surprised?" he asked, failing to hide the pull at the corner of his mouth.
You laughed, and he took the opportunity to spin you outâcatching you completely off guard. You went with it, delighted, your heart so full you couldn't imagine being anywhere else in the world.
As you came back to him, you noticed his expression had changed. His hands settled at your waist and he looked down at you, quiet and attentive.
You felt the warmth of his hands through the fabric of your dress. The faint, clean scent of him, closer now than it had been all evening. There was an intimacy to it that caught you off guardâthe trust of letting someone lead, a shared language your bodies had found without a word spoken between you.
You were still smiling when he dipped you.
His arm was firm at your back, your hand at his shoulder, the room tilting as you went. You found yourself suspended, looking up at him from an angle you never had before.
He was looking back. All the armor he usually kept so firmly in place had fallen away, leaving something softer underneath. It was the kind of expression you suspected very few people ever got to see.
The music sounded distant. His gaze dropped, just briefly, to your mouth.
As he brought you back to standing, as gravity returned and the room steadied, you stopped thinking.
You closed the remaining distance, your hand sliding from his shoulder to the side of his jaw, and kissed him.
He went perfectly still for just a fraction of a second. Then he kissed you back, gentle and deliberate, his hand coming up to cradle your face. Your fingers curled into the lapel of his shirt like an anchor. Your heart was thundering so loudly you were certain he could feel it.
It was nothing like you'd imagined, and everything you'd hoped for, and over far too soon.
When you finally parted, neither of you spoke. His hand stayed at your cheek. Your fingers stayed curled in his shirt. The music continued playing, entirely indifferent to the fact that something had just shifted permanently between you.
Footsteps crossed the room.
Kiyoomi drew you in closer, his hand staying at your back. Across the studio, the instructors were huddled with Atsumu. They both glanced toward you, then turned and slipped out the door.
You looked at Atsumu. He was standing very still at the other end of the floor, watching the two of you with an expression that contained a considerable amount of want and almost no attempt to conceal it.
You held your hand out to him.
He crossed the room and took it. Then, without any preamble at all, kissed you.
It was nothing like Kiyoomi's kiss. Where Kiyoomi had been careful and measured, Atsumu kissed you the way he did everythingâfully, immediately, like he'd been waiting and had simply run out of patience. You'd kissed him dozens of times when you were young, frantic and half-laughing behind his house while Osamu watched TV inside, and somehow it felt exactly like the first timeâthat same shock, that same freefall.
When Atsumu finally pulled back, he was already grinning.
You caught your reflectionâall three of you, close togetherâand felt something so full and disorienting that it took you a moment to name it. Belonging. The particular peace of a thing finally being what it was always going to be.
You looked at Kiyoomi's reflection, and found him already looking back.
You were beginning to regret the part where you'd said you wanted to take things slow.
"You just lookedâthe two of youâ" He shook his head. "I couldn't help it."
"What about the instructors?" you asked, breathless.
"I paid them extra to let us have the room for a bit," he said, with a smirk.
The three of you simply danced.
No choreography, no instructionâjust the music and the mirrored room and this new thing between you. Atsumu lifted you once, startling a laugh out of you both. Kiyoomi dipped you again, slower this time, with a small private smile that was gave you butterflies. At some point they both stepped back, and you moved alone across the floor.
You hadn't done this in years. Hadn't let yourself. You'd traded it in along with a dozen other small pieces of yourself, during a chapter of your life you were still slowly learning to leave behind.
Getting out had been the hardest thing you had ever done, and some days you still didn't fully feel like yourself on the other side of it.
But here you were.
Dancing in the warm light of an unfamiliar studio, in a dress you'd bought for two people who looked at you like you were worth looking at, your shoes gone, your feet soft on the wood floor. You caught your own reflection and didn't look away. You felt, for the first time in a long time, entirely free.Â
From the edges of the room, you heard Atsumu murmur something to Kiyoomi, too low to catch, and Kiyoomi's quiet response.
They were watching you.
I wouldn't change any of it, you thought. Not the hardest parts, not the leaving, not the long hollow stretch that had come after. Because all of it had led to right here. You were still tender in places. Still learning to trust the good things without waiting for them to be taken back. But you were here, and you were whole, and all of thisâall of themâwas yours.
You didn't want the night to end.
The walk back toward the station was slow, the three of you finding reasons to linger. The city at this hour was hushed and cold and beautiful. You were warm in Kiyoomi's jacket, with Atsumu's arm wrapped around your shoulders.
"You could come back for a drink," Atsumu suggested, casually, at the entrance to the station.
The three of you looked at each other. The offer was transparent as glass and none of you pretended otherwise.
"Sure," you agreed.
The apartment was quiet when you got back, only a lamp left on in the living room. Kiyoomi opened a bottle of something red while Atsumu found glasses, and you all arranged yourselves on the sofa.
You ended up leaning back against Atsumu's chest, his arm settled across your waist. Kiyoomi sat on the other end of the couch, angled toward you, and as the conversation drifted and deepened he began trailing his fingers absently along the exposed skin of your legâslow and deliberate. A chill moved through you that had nothing to do with the temperature.
The conversation deepened as the wine didâall three of you sharing more freely than you had before, things about your pasts and your lives that hadn't come up until now. Getting to know each other in a way that felt new, even after everything.
"I've been thinking about how long you've been a part of my life," Atsumu said, quietly. "You were there when we were kids, and then we were together, and then you leftâbecause I'd told you about Omi, and you thought you were holding me back." He paused. "And maybe at the time you were right. But I found what I needed with him." He paused, softer now. "And deep down, I think I always knew I needed you too."
You were quiet for a moment, sitting with his words. The teenage version of you had walked away convinced she was doing the right thingâthat she was the problem, that she wasn't enough, that stepping aside was setting Atsumu free. You hadn't known, then, that you were worthy of being chosen. That love could look like thisâunconventional, unexpected, sharedâand still be real.
âI never would have predicted this," you said, after a moment. "Any of it." You glanced at Kiyoomi, who was already watching you. "Especially you. I remember watching Atsumu's first professional game on TV and seeing you for the first time. I never would have expected to eventuallyâ" You stopped, the words catching somewhere in your throat.
Kiyoomi studied you for a moment, patient and still, and didn't push. His fingers stilled on your leg, just briefly, then resumed their soothing motion.
The wine was almost gone when you yawnedâwide and completely involuntary.
"I should go," you announced, without moving.
"You should stay," Atsumu returned, equally still.
You tilted your head back to look at him. "You're sure?"
He looked down at you, close enough that you could see golden glow of his eyes. He dropped a brief, soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. "Yes," he murmured. "I'm sure."
You looked at Kiyoomi, who had watched the exchange with a quiet fondness. You shifted toward him, swinging your leg over to straddle him, and kissed him slowly. His hand came up to rest at the back of your neck, drawing you closer. When you pulled back his eyes gaze was low and intent.
"Now you definitely can't leave," he told you.
Atsumu disappeared and returned with a shirt and pressed it into your hands. Kiyoomi, predictably, had a spare toothbrush.
You moved through the familiar rhythms of getting ready for bed, and then drifted, out of old habit, toward the guest room. Your old room.
"Absolutely not," Atsumu declared.
He came up behind you, scooped you up with an ease that was deeply unfair, and carried youâlaughing, protestingâback down the hall and into their room.
He deposited you onto the bed with minimal ceremony.
You sank into it. The duvet was thick and soft, the bed itself made to accommodate two very tall, very athletic men, which meant there was plenty of room. You crawled to the middle while they got settled on either side of you, the room going quiet around youâa lamp clicked off, sheets shifted, and then stillness.
Kiyoomi's hand found yours in the dark.
Atsumu's arm curled around your waist from behind, his chin dropping to your shoulder.
"Thank you," you whispered to both of them, to the dark that held all three of you. "For everything today. I had the time of my life."
A pause.
Then, dry and quiet from your left, came Kiyoomi's voice. "Was that intentional?"
You blinked. "Was what intentional?"
"I've had the time of my life," Kiyoomi recited, quietly. âThatâs from Dirty Dancing.â
You made a noise of indignation. "It was not on purpose, I wasn'tâ"
Atsumu's chest shook against your back. "You're so corny," he mumbled, already half-asleep, nuzzling further into your shoulder.
"Shut up," you returned, warm with it, reaching for Kiyoomi's hand and pulling him closer.
He came, closing the remaining distance without a word.
Sleep arrived quickly after that. You lay in the quiet, warm and still, with the particular peace of being exactly where you were supposed to be. For the first time in a long time, you found yourself looking forward to what came nextâto waking up between them, to figuring it all out together, to a future that felt, for once, like something you actually wanted to run toward.
For once in his life, Bokuto Koutarou was speechless.
It was unnerving, watching someone so perpetually animated go completely still. Bokuto just sat there across from them at the dining table, mouth slightly agape, golden eyes wide with shock as he processed what they'd just told him.
Atsumu shifted uncomfortably in his seat, hyperaware of every small movement. Beside him, Kiyoomi refused to make eye contact with either of them, his jaw tight as he stared determinedly at a spot on the wall just past Bokuto's shoulder.
They had invited Bokuto over for dinner, telling him they needed to talk to him about something important. The moment he'd arrived and seen their expressions, his usual brightness had dimmed to cautious concern. And then the truth had come spilling out. Well, almost everything.
They'd revealed that you had admitted to having feelings for both of them. And that they bothâindependently, simultaneously, impossiblyâhad developed feelings for you too.
What they left out was how they'd come to that realization.
Literally.
Atsumu was still reeling from that night. The way the confession had unlocked something primal between them, the permission they'd given each other to finally voice the desires they'd been suffocating under guilt and fear. The filthy words Kiyoomi had used to paint a picture Atsumu hadn't dared to even dream ofâyour body between theirs, the three of you tangled together in every possible way.
It had been the best sex of his life.
And that terrified him almost as much as it exhilarated him.
Atsumu had always felt things deeply. Hiding his emotions had never been something he was good atâhis face was too expressive, his heart too close to the surface. But since you moved in, he'd tried his hardest to hide his growing feelings for you, to bury them so deep he could almost pretend they didn't exist.
Because he couldn't risk his relationship with Kiyoomi. Couldn't bear the thought of losing what they'd built together over feelings that seemed impossible, unreasonable, wrong.
He'd been so worried that his feelings would bring the end of everything.
So to discover that Kiyoomi not only understood but shared those same feelings? That the fantasy consuming Atsumu's thoughts had been living in Kiyoomi's mind too?
It felt like a miracle. And now, watching Bokuto's stunned silence stretch on, Atsumu was desperately hoping for another one.
"At least close your mouth," Kiyoomi said finally, his voice clipped. "You look like a dying fish."
Bokuto's jaw snapped shut. He blinked rapidly, looking back and forth between the two men at the dining table like he was watching a tennis match.
"Sorry, I justâwow." Bokuto shook his head, a disbelieving laugh escaping him. "I didn't expect this. Especially from you, Omi."
Kiyoomi's expression darkened, his shoulders tensing. Atsumu could see the sharp retort forming on his boyfriend's lips, the defensive walls slamming into place.
"How did you do it?" Atsumu jumped in quickly, drawing Bokuto's attention before Kiyoomi could say something cutting. "How did you all get there? With Birdie and Akaashi?"
Bokuto's expression shifted, going thoughtful in a way that would have seemed impossible moments ago. Then he chuckled to himself, a small smile playing at his lips.
"What's so funny?" Kiyoomi asked, somewhat tersely.
"Now that I'm thinking about it, our situations aren't all that different," Bokuto said, and the hope that bloomed in Atsumu's chest at those words was almost painful in its intensity.
Bokuto leaned back in his chair, his eyes going distant. "Birdie and I were best friends growing up. We never really defined anything, but we loved each other even back then. It had always just been the two of us." His smile turned softer, more genuine. "But when Keiji came to Fukurodani and joined the team...it was like a syzygy."
Atsumu blinked. He glanced at Kiyoomi, who looked just as confused as he felt.
"A sisi-what?" Atsumu asked.
"Syzygy," Bokuto repeated. "Like, an alignment of three planetary forces. You know, when everything just clicks into place?" He tilted his head, noticing their expressions. "Why are you guys looking at me like that?"
"Is that from a word of the day calendar or something?" Kiyoomi asked flatly.
Bokuto's eyebrows shot up. "You know I went to college, right?"
"So did I, but you don't hear me acting like a walking dictionary."
"Okay, okay. Can we focus, please?" Atsumu interrupted.
"That's rich, coming from you," Kiyoomi muttered under his breath.
Bokuto chuckled, but Atsumu pressed on before they could get derailed again. "Boâhow did you two actually bridge the gap with Akaashi? Like, how did it go from the three of you having feelings to actually being together?"
He watched as Bokuto's cheeks started to pink, a tell that immediately put Atsumu on alert. Bokuto wasn't someone who embarrassed easily.
"Spin the bottle," Bokuto admitted quietly.
There was a beat of silence.
"Oh my god." Kiyoomi hunched over, putting his head in his hands like he was in physical pain. "Oh my god."
"It was high school, okay!" Bokuto protested, his face now fully red.
âWait, so was this at a party or something?" Atsumu asked, trying to make sense of how such a vulnerable admission could have happened during a party.
"No," Bokuto said. "It was just the three of us."
Atsumu felt his brain short-circuit. Beside him, Kiyoomi slowly lifted his head, staring at Bokuto with an expression of complete disbelief.
"So why didn't you just kiss each other of your own accord?" Kiyoomi asked, clearly exasperated.
"Well, we didn't want to come out and say anything at first..."
"So you all agreed to sit down, in a circle, spin a bottle, and kiss whoever it landed on?" Kiyoomi's voice was climbing now. "But you couldn't just admit your feelings?"
"What if it had just landed on you and Birdie?" Atsumu asked, genuinely curious despite the absurdity.
Bokuto's flush deepened. "We, uh. We did it multiple times."
"Why did I ever let you convince me this was a good idea," Kiyoomi asked Atsumu, his tone absolutely deadpan.
But Bokuto's expression had shifted, losing some of its embarrassed humor. "From where I stand, you don't have a lot of room to judge, Omi," he said, and there was an edge to his voice nowânot quite defensive, but firm. "We were dumb kids at the time. We figured if it was a game and we didn't feel anything, then there were no hard feelings. We'd go back to the way things were." His voice softened. "But as soon as I kissed Keiji, I knew there was no way I could go back."
The admission hung in the air between them. Atsumu felt something twist in his chest at the raw honesty in Bokuto's voice, the vulnerability there.
They sat in silence for a moment, letting it sink in.
"What about Birdie?" Kiyoomi asked quietly, and Atsumu heard something fragile in his boyfriend's voice. "How did she feel about Akaashi?"
And suddenly Atsumu understood.
Kiyoomi was asking because he felt like Akaashi in their scenario. Atsumu and you had grown up together, had years of history. In a sense, Sakusa was the newcomer. The outsider to a connection that had existed long before he came into Atsumu's life.
Bokuto seemed to understand too, because his expression gentled. "She was scared," he said honestly. "Scared that Keiji and I would choose each other over her. That she'd be holding me back from something I hadn't explored yet." He looked between them, and his voice grew firmer. "But that fear was never the reality. What we hadâBirdie and meâit was real and it mattered. We loved each other. But we were also incomplete in ways we didn't understand yet. We needed him. And he needed us."
Kiyoomi's fingers were gripping the edge of the table, his knuckles white.
"I know it's scary," Bokuto continued, his voice surprisingly gentle. "But you have to be totally and completely honest with your feelings. Relationships like this don't work otherwise. There's no room for secrets. It's all three of you, all in, or it falls apart."
"You make it look so easy," Atsumu said quietly.
Something complicated flickered across Bokuto's face. "It's not," he said after a moment. "We got really lucky, and it feels incredible to share the love we have for each other. But it's also a lot of work. And it's really fucking hard sometimes."
"What do you mean?" Kiyoomi asked softly.
Bokuto looked between them, and Atsumu could see him weighing something. Deciding whether to really open up, to show them the parts he usually kept hidden behind his bright smile and boundless energy.
"I know you guys are accepting," Bokuto started slowly. "But there's a lot I don't tell you. A lot I don't tell anyone." He took a breath. "Birdie and Keiji are both no contact with their families because of our relationship. Birdie's a teacherâthere's no way she can be honest about us at work either. And can you imagine if the media caught wind of our relationship?"
His laugh was hollow. "I can't post anything about them. They can come to games, sure, but I can't run up to them and celebrate after a win. I can't thank them in interviews. I can't acknowledge that they're the reason I'm standing on that court in the first place."
Bokuto tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling, and Atsumu saw the exhaustion thereâthe weight of years of hiding.
"Sometimes," Bokuto said, his voice rough, "sometimes it feels like I have to live a double life. At home, I can be myself. I can love them openly. But the second I step outside our door, I have to pretend that the two most important people in my world are just friends." He looked back at them, and there was something raw in his eyes. "And that part? That part fucking sucks."
They sat in silence for a moment, Bokuto's words sinking in.
Atsumu's mind started turningâquiet and heavy in a way that had nothing to do with Bokuto's situation and everything to do with his own.Â
He thought about Kiyoomi's family first. Kiyoomi's parents were traditionalâthey had expectations laid out like a blueprint for the life their son was supposed to live. Hell, they didn't even know Kiyoomi was dating him. Yet Kiyoomi still tried, still held out hope they would soften to a point he could be honest with them. But if they couldn't even understand Atsumu, there was no way they would understand this.
His thoughts drifted to you next. He didn't know your family the way he knew youâand that meant something, didn't it? Growing up, most of your time together had been at school or at the Miya house, never yours. He knew your parents expected you to be perfect, knew you felt more comfortable away from them. That careful distance you kept said enough. They wouldn't understand either. Not something like this.
And then there was his own family.
Osamu wouldn't judge. Atsumu knew that without questionâhis brother had never once given him a reason to doubt it, not once in his entire life. Osamu would probably just shrug and make some wise-ass crack, then ask if he was really happy. That was how he operated. Simple. Steady. No drama.
He wasn't sure about his mother, and that thought terrified him.
She'd been completely accepting when Atsumu had first told her about Kiyoomiâmore than accepting, really. She'd squeezed his hand and smiled in that way she had, the one that said she loved him regardless of whatever came next. And she loved you too, had always considered you part of the family even before all of this.
But this was different. This wasn't just loving a man, or loving you the way she'd always known. This was loving both at the same time, all three of them intertwined in ways that didn't fit neatly into any box his mother had ever been given. Would she still look at him with that same quiet acceptance? Or would the shape of itâthe strangeness of itâbe the thing that finally made her hesitate?
He didn't know. And not knowing was its own kind of ache.
But sitting here, watching Kiyoomi's careful concern and remembering Bokuto's opennessâAtsumu felt something shift. Fear was there, sure. But so was determination. So was the bone deep certainty that whatever they were building together was worth fighting for.
"I'm sorry," Kiyoomi said quietly. "I had no idea what you were going through."
"Me either," Atsumu added. "Really, man. I had no idea."
Bokuto took a deep breath, visibly pushing the sorrow back and shifting into something lighter. The transformation was like watching clouds part to reveal the sun. "Thanks," he acknowledged with a small smile. "It's okay. I love them, and don't get me wrong, it's absolutely worth pursuing. I just wanted to be upfront about the challenges too."
Atsumu looked at Kiyoomi, finding his boyfriend already watching him with those dark, intense eyes.
"I'm not afraid of a challenge," Atsumu said, his voice steady and sure.
Kiyoomi rolled his eyes, but Atsumu could see the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "Me either," Kiyoomi confirmed, holding Atsumu's gaze.
For a moment, Atsumu let himself just look at his boyfriend. The sharp line of his jaw, the way his curls were starting to escape their usual neat styling, the barely-there smile that was reserved only for him. Even in the middle of all this chaos and uncertainty, Atsumu felt a surge of gratitude so intense it made his throat tight.
He was so incredibly lucky to have Kiyoomi.
"So uhh...not to interrupt the moment or anything," Bokuto said awkwardly, shifting in his seat. "But when are we gonna eat? I'm starving."
Atsumu watched as Kiyoomi laughedâactually laughed, the sound genuine and unguarded. The smile that followed lit up his entire face, transforming him into something softer, more open.
"Come on, you overgrown owl," Kiyoomi said, standing and gesturing toward the door. "We'll go eat now."
"Don't act like I'm being ridiculous! You lured me here under the promise of food!" Bokuto retorted, already moving toward the entryway.
The three of them slipped on their shoes and grabbed their jackets. Atsumu was just reaching for the door handle when Bokuto's voice stopped him.
"Hey guys."
The tone was differentâserious in a way that made both Atsumu and Kiyoomi turn to look at him.
Bokuto's expression was earnest, his arms already opening. "Can Iâgroup hug?"
"Absolutely not," Kiyoomi scoffed immediately, maneuvering past Atsumu to yank open the door.
"Sorry," Atsumu said to Bokuto, clapping him on the back as they followed Kiyoomi out. "He's had too much vulnerability for one day."
"No worries," Bokuto said with his usual gleaming smile, the one that could light up an entire stadium. "I'll get him back later."
As they headed down the hallway toward the elevator, Atsumu caught Kiyoomi's eye and saw the smallest hint of fondness there, hidden beneath the exasperation. And for the first time since this whole mess had started, Atsumu felt something like hope settle warm and steady in his chest.
They didn't have all the answers yet. They didn't know how this would work, or if it even could. But they had each other, and they had Bokuto's hard-won wisdom to guide them.
And maybe, just maybe, that would be enough.
"So let me get this straight. First you leave your asshole abusive ex. Then you move in with your hot volleyball ex-boyfriend and his hot volleyball boyfriend. And then you move out when you realize you have feelings for them both?"
"God, Hana, when you say it like that it makes me sound insane," you groaned, flopping ungracefully back onto the futon.
Well, Kita's futon. You were staying in his guest room, in his house tucked away in the Hyogo countryside. Three days now, and your thoughts hadn't stopped their anxious circling.
The first day, you'd asked if you could help with anything around the rice farmâhoped that physical work might quiet your thoughts. Kita had taken one pointed look at your bandaged hand, then said no. The delivery had been polite but entirely non-negotiable.
The second day, you'd tried reading. Kita had an impressive collection, and he'd told you to help yourself to anything on the shelves. But every time you opened a book, you found yourself staring at the same page for twenty minutes, reading the same sentence over and over until the words stopped meaning anything.
So on the third day, you'd called Hana.
The two of you had met freshman year of college when you'd been assigned rooms right next to each other. She'd knocked on your door late at night asking if you wanted to go on a konbini run with her, introducing herself as Hanaâa nickname from her grandfather. The rest was history.
She was one of the few people in your life who knew about Atsumu. You'd told her everything when the breakup was still fresh and raw, but she'd never actually met him. Everyone else you could talk to had some connection to him, some tie that made the whole situation impossibly complicated. Hana was neutral territory, a safe space to unload without worrying about the information getting back to anyone.
"Babes, you're not insane. ButâŚ" Hana trailed off, and you could practically hear her choosing her words carefully. "Don't you think maybe it's a little soon? You just got out of a really bad situation. Your emotions are probably all over the place."
You stared up at the ceiling, tracing the patterns in the wood with your eyes. "I know. Trust me, I've thought about that. But these feelingsâthey didn't just appear overnight. They've been building for weeks. I just didn't let myself acknowledge them untilâŚ"
"Until you couldn't ignore them anymore," Hana finished gently.
"Yeah." You swallowed hard. "And now I've made everything worse by actually saying it out loud. I can never face them again."
âHey, you never know," Hana said, her tone shifting to something more playful. "They might both have feelings for you too."
You scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping. "I highly doubt that."
"Well then they're fucking idiots, because you are smart as hell, and kind, and hot, and funny, andâ"
"Okay, okay. No need to blow smoke up my ass." Despite everything, you felt a smile tugging at your lips. "I justâthank you. I needed to talk to someone about this."
"I'm here for you anytime, you know that right?"
"I do. Thank you," you replied, warmth spreading through your chest.
You reflected on how fortunate you were to have Hana in your life. She was one of the kindest people you knew, the type who'd given up a promising career to take over her grandfather's florist shop when his health started failing. After his passing, having lost the only family she had left, she'd moved to Tokyo to start her own shop. It had been a brave move, one that filled you with a quiet prideâand, if you were being honest with yourself, a twinge of envy for the courage you'd never quite managed to find in yourself.
"Anyway, enough about my disaster of a life. Are you doing anything fun?"
"I'm taking care of my neighbor's plants while he's traveling for work," Hana said, and you could hear the smile in her voice.
"You need a new definition of fun."
"He's really hot, if that makes a difference."
"Okay, now we're talking." You sat up, interest piqued. "Details. Now."
Hana chuckled. âThere's not much to tell yet. I think he might be some kind of athleteâreally tall, always in gym clothes. Kind of quiet, but super polite. When I was moving in, he helped me carry all my boxes up three flights of stairs, so watering his plants while he's gone is the least I could do."And the fact that he's hot is just a bonus?"
"Exactly. Though I did almost combust when I bumped into him last week. I'm a disaster."
"As the woman currently hiding in the countryside because she confessed to having feelings for two men at once, I can say with absolute confidence that you are not a disaster."
Hana's bark of laughter made you smile despite everything.
"Do you have his number?" you asked, an idea forming. "Maybe you should text him some plant updates. You knowâŚin case he's worried about them?"
"You're evil."
"I'm helpful. There's a difference."
You went back and forth for a bit longer, plotting elaborate plant emergencies until you were both laughing. It felt good to focus on someone else's potential romance instead of your own complicated disaster.
A knock on the door interrupted your conversation.
"Dinner's ready," Kita's voice came through, quiet and steady as always.
"I gotta go," you told Hana. "But text me updates about Plant Guy."
"Only if you promise to stop hiding in the countryside."
"I'll be ready soon. Thanks, Hana," you said softly before ending the call.
Dinner with Kita was a quiet affair, as most things with him tended to be. He'd made a simple but delicious meal, everything balanced and perfectly prepared.
"This is amazing," you said, and meant it. "Thank you again for having me. I know this is a lotâ"
"It's not," Kita interrupted gently. He set down his chopsticks, meeting your eyes with that calm, assessing gaze. "You're welcome here as long as you need."
The kindness of it made your throat tight.
"How's Aran doing?" you asked, partly to shift the conversation and partly because you were genuinely curious. You'd all gone to high school together, but you'd fallen out of touch with him over the years.
"He's well," Kita replied. âHe plays for the Red Falcons now. We don't see each other as much as we'd like, but we talk regularly."
"That's good. It's nice that you've managed to stay close.â
Kita nodded thoughtfully. "Distance doesn't always mean losing connection. Sometimes the people who matter most remain constant, even when life takes you in different directions."
You thought about Atsumu. About all those years of friendship, how you'd remained close even after you broke up with him, back when you'd been so sure you were holding him back. Then about Sakusa, whose presence in your life was still so new, yet had somehow wormed its way just as deeply into your heart.
After dinner, you helped Kita clean up despite his protests. It felt good to be useful, to have something to do. It reminded you of the evenings in the apartmentâyou and Atsumu tackling the dishes together after Sakusa cooked dinner, the easy rhythm you'd all fallen into without even trying.
"Would it be okay if I did some laundry?" you asked as you dried the last dish.
"Of course." Kita paused, then added carefully, "I've noticed you don't have many belongings with you.â
You set down the dish towel and smoothed it flat against the counter, your fingers tracing the edges. "Most of my stuff is still at my old apartment." The words came out quiet. "I've been avoiding it. I wasn't ready to deal with all of that yet."
Kita didn't push, just waited with that patient stillness of his.
"But it's time," you continued. "I need to move on with my life. And before I can do that, I need to close this chapter for good."
"I see." Kita continued wiping down the counter. After a moment he spoke again. "I can go back with you, if you'd like. You can keep your things here until you figure out where you'll be staying."
The offer was so kind, so straightforward, that you almost started crying right there in his kitchen.
"That wouldâthat would be really helpful. Thank you."
You texted your ex that evening, telling him you'd be by tomorrow to get your things and to please not be there.
All you got was a thumbs up.
The next day, Kita drove you into the city. The bed of his truck was loaded with empty boxes and crates, ready to pack up whatever pieces of your old life were worth keeping.
The trip was quiet, companionable. You listened to the radio and watched the countryside gradually give way to suburbs, then city. Kita didn't push you to talk, didn't ask questions you weren't ready to answer. He just drove, his presence steady and calming.
By the time you reached your old apartment building, your stomach had twisted into knots. You hadn't been back since that night. Since the argument that had escalated into something you still couldn't bring yourself to fully acknowledge.
Kita pulled into a parking spot and cut the engine. You sat there for a moment, staring up at the familiar building.
"I'll be right here with you," Kita said quietly.
You nodded, not trusting your voice, and together you headed inside.
The apartment was on the third floor. You took the stairs slowly, each step feeling heavier than the last. When you reached the door, you took a deep breath and pulled the once familiar key from your bag.
You unlocked the door, pushed it open, and stepped inside.
And stopped.
You noticed the smell immediately. It was too sweet, too floral.
Too unfamiliar.
You and Kita slipped off your shoes, and as you opened the small shoe closet, your heart sank. There were shoes you didn't recognizeâflashy heels with red bottoms, the kind that cost more than you'd ever willingly spend. Your more practical, worn shoes were shoved to the back, half-hidden behind these new additions.
"Everything alright?" Kita asked, and you realized you'd been staring.
"YeahâŚjust trying to figure out how to go about this," you managed.
"Do you want to head in and start collecting things? I can at least pack up your shoes," he said, reaching for the heels.
"Those, uhâŚthose aren't mine, Kita."
Kita stopped. You saw his brow furrow in confusion, then watched the moment realization set in. His expression didn't change muchâKita was always controlledâbut something hardened in his eyes.
"I see," he said, his tone carefully neutral.
"Do you want to bring up the other boxes?" you asked, needing to move, to do something. "I'll start sorting through everything."
"I can. Are you alright?"
That was a good question. Part of you wanted to scream, to smash everything and throw those stupidly expensive shoes off the balcony. To make him feel even a fraction of what you'd felt.
But part of you also feltâŚrelieved. You had been right. Your gut hadn't been wrong, hadn't been paranoid or jealous or crazy like he'd always insisted. He had clearly moved onâprobably had been moving on long before you'd left.
It was time for you to do the same. You refused to shed any more tears for someone who cared so little for you. You were ready to rise above this, to move on to a brighter future. Whatever that looked like.
"I am," you told Kita. "Thank you for being here. I really appreciate it."
Kita nodded, studying your face for a moment before heading back down to the truck.
You pulled your shoes out from the back of the closet, setting them aside, then moved into the living room. There wasn't much you intended to takeâjust your books and a few meaningful tchotchkes that had survived the relationship. You noticed new decorations scattered around. A throw pillow you'd never seen. A candle on the bookshelf. Picture frames turned face-down.
Shaking your head, you steeled yourself and entered your old bedroom.
Thankfully, all of your clothes were still there. You began packing them up methodically, trying not to think too hard about the memories attached to certain pieces.
You heard the door open and close as Kita returned with the boxes. After a few moments, he appeared in the bedroom doorway.
"Do you mind packing up the books in the living room? They're all mine," you asked.
"Of course," Kita said, and disappeared back down the hallway.
Shoved in the back of the closet, buried under winter coats, you found your Inarizaki cheer uniform. The fabric was still in good condition, the colors unfaded. You ran your fingers over it, remembering all of those games under the lights. The energy in the stands. The way Atsumu always looked at you with hunger in his eyes when you wore this outfit.
You wondered if Sakusa would have looked at you the same way. What would his reaction have been if he'd seen you in something like thisâsomething tight and short that left little to the imagination?
You quickly shoved the uniform into the box before you could spiral further, then carried it out to the living room.
Kita had dutifully packed up your books and had set out a few items on the coffee tableâa ceramic mug shaped like a cat, a small succulent in a handmade pot, a framed photo of you and Hana from college.
"I pulled some things I figured were yours," he explained.
You smiled, impressed. "How did you know?"
"They reminded me of you," he said simply. Then added, with the barest hint of dry humor, "And whoever else moved in has terrible taste."
Despite everything, you laughed.
You made quick work of packing everything up and making trips down to Kita's truck. The physical labor felt good, purposeful. Each box you carried out felt like shedding weight.
Before taking the last boxes down, you slipped the key off your keyring and left it on the counter. You turned to walk away, but noticed a notepad and pen stuck to the fridge with a magnet.
"Ready?" Kita asked gently from the doorway.
"Just a sec," you said, pulling off a sheet of paper.
You scribbled down a few words, then folded up the note. Walking back to the shoe closet, you tucked it inside one of those red-bottomed heels.
"Okay. I'm ready," you told Kita.
You drove off in silence, the city slowly giving way to open road. Neither of you spoke for a while, letting the radio fill the space between you.
"What did you write?" Kita eventually asked, his voice quiet.
You looked out the window, watching the landscape blur past. "I told her to be careful. That he's not what he seems to be. And to never let him hurt her the way he hurt me."
Kita was silent at first, but you noticed his grip tightening on the steering wheel. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer than you'd ever heard it. "That was kind of you. I'm sorry you had to go through that."
"It's okay," you said.
And you meant it.
Because sitting in Kita's truck, surrounded by boxes of your belongings, you realized something. You weren't the same person who'd moved into that apartment full of hope and naĂŻve trust. You'd been broken down, yes. But you were building yourself back up. And this time, you were doing it on your own terms.
You thought about Atsumu and Sakusa. About the confession you'd made and the mess you'd left behind. You didn't know what would happen there, didn't know if anything could happen. But for the first time in months, you felt like you had space to breathe. Space to figure out what you actually wanted, rather than just surviving what you had.
The sun was setting as you drove back toward Hyogo, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. It felt symbolic somehow, this ending of one chapter and the tentative beginning of another.
You weren't sure what came next. But you were ready to find out.
You spent another week at Kita's house.
After the initial shock of the apartment wore off, you realized how much better you felt. Lighter, even. That part of your life was doneâthe part that had never felt quite right to begin with, the part where you'd been trying to mold yourself into someone else's idea of who you should be.
You went back to work remotely, settling into a routine at Kita's kitchen table with your laptop, the house quiet while he worked in the fields. In the evenings, you started searching for new apartments online, scrolling through listings and imagining what a fresh start might look like.
You thought about Atsumu and Sakusa more than you cared to admit. Wondered how they were doing, if they'd talked about what you'd said, if they regretted letting you leave.
You still texted with Atsumu, but it was mostly memes and surface-level interactions. Safe. Distant. Nothing that required you to acknowledge the elephant in the room. He didn't push, and you were grateful for it, even if part of you wished he would.
You missed Sakusa's steady presence. The way he'd stayed close without crowding you, how his silence had felt more comforting than anyone else's words. You hated the way you'd left thingsâmessy and raw, without giving either of you a chance to process. Did he miss you too? Or was he relieved you'd removed yourself from the equation before things could get more complicated?
One morning, Kita mentioned he was heading into the city. "I have a delivery for Osamu," he said over breakfast. "Would you like to come along?"
"Actually, yeah," you said, setting down your tea. "I've been looking at apartments online. There are a few places I'd like to see in person."
The drive felt different this time. Less heavy. You weren't running from something anymoreâyou were moving toward something new, even if you didn't know exactly what that was yet.
The restaurant was in its late afternoon lull when you arrived, the air warm with the smell of fresh rice and grilled fish. A few customers sat scattered at tables, but it was mostly empty. Osamu was behind the counter, shaping onigiri with practiced hands.
He looked up when the door chimed, and his face immediately broke into a smile. "Kita! Andâ"
The smile softened when he saw you, something knowing flickering in his eyes. Before you could say anything, Osamu was around the counter and pulling you into a hug.
It was warm and solid and felt like home. You let yourself sink into it for just a moment.
"You okay?" he asked quietly when he pulled back. The concern in his expression told you everything. Atsumu had told him what happened.
"Better," you said, and meant it. "Getting there."
Osamu studied your face, reading the truth in it. "Good." He paused, then asked more carefully, "So when are you going back? 'Tsumu's been in a mood since you left."
The question caught you off guard. Your chest tightened. "I wasn't really planning on going back. To be honest, I'm not sure I can ever face them again. Not after what I told them."
"What did you tell them?" Kita asked from where he stood near the counter.
You paled, realizing the situation you'd just walked into. Osamu tilted his head, concern and curiosity written across his face. Kita just waited, patient as he'd been through everything else.
"It couldn't have been that bad," Osamu said gently.
You hesitated. Atsumu told Osamu everythingâit was only a matter of time before he found out anyway.
"I told them I have feelings for them," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "Both of them."
The silence that followed was deafening. Osamu stared at you blankly while Kita's face flushed a deep red.
Oh god, you'd actually scandalized Kita.
Osamu opened his mouth, closed it, then seemed to decide that leaving was the best option. "We shouldâ" He cleared his throat, glancing at Kita. "We should probably unload the rice from your truck."
"Good idea," Kita said, his words coming out slightly strangled as he moved toward the door.
"Do you need any help?" you asked reflexively.
"No," they said in unison, the response so quick and emphatic it would've been funny under different circumstances.
You watched them practically flee, then sank into the nearest chair and pulled out your phone, opening the apartment listing you were supposed to see later. The words blurred together. You couldn't focus on square footage or train station proximity when your heart was still racing from that confession.
The door chimed.
You looked up instinctively, and your heart stopped.
Atsumu stood in the doorway, Sakusa right behind him.
For a moment, nobody moved. Nobody breathed.
You took them inâAtsumu's wide eyes, the way his mouth parted slightly in shock. Sakusa stood rigid behind him, his face half-hidden behind a black mask, but you could see his brows raised in surprise, the tension in every line of his body.
Despite everything that had happened, you felt something warm bloom in your chest at the sight of them. You'd missed them. God, you'd missed them so much.
But along with that warmth came a wave of nerves so intense your hands started to shake.
Atsumu recovered first, stepping fully into the restaurant. His eyes never left yours. "Hey," he said, his voice rough and uncertain.
You stood, your legs unsteady beneath you. "Hi. It'sâit's good to see you both."
Atsumu's expression softened, and he glanced back at Sakusa. Sakusa reached up and slipped off his mask, revealing the rest of his face. His dark eyes held yours as he said quietly, âItâs good to see you too.â
The words were simple, but the intensity in his gaze when he said them made your breath catch.
Atsumu glanced between you and Sakusa, something tentative and hopeful crossing his features. "Can weâcan the three of us talk?"
You didn't regret telling them the truth. You couldn't, not when holding it in had been suffocating you. But that didn't stop the fear that crawled up your throatâthe worry that Atsumu would finally ask for the space you'd always been terrified he'd need. That after all these years, this would be the thing that broke your friendship for good.
Your throat felt tight, but you managed to nod. "Of course."
The August heat pressed down on Tokyo Station like a suffocating blanket, the air thick with humidity that made every breath feel labored. Kana shifted against the concrete pillar she'd claimed as her waiting spot, feeling the dark fabric of her Jujutsu High uniform cling uncomfortably to her skin. She didn't mind being sweaty after a long training sessionâat least she had earned that discomfort. But this oppressive heat that caused perspiration to bead along her hairline the moment she stepped outside felt like a punishment she hadn't deserved.
She blew her blunt bangs out of her eyes and resisted the urge to tug at her collar, even as the damp fabric clung to her skin and her bangs stuck to her forehead.Â
Showing discomfort was showing weakness.
Around her, the station buzzed with its usual chaosâvarious commuters flowing through the crowd like water around stones, each following their own invisible path through the maze of bodies. Kana's eyes swept over the passing faces with practiced assessment, cataloging exits, blind spots, potential threats. An old habit she couldn't break even if she wanted to.
None of them had any idea what lurked in the shadows of their mundane world. They couldn't see the terrifying manifestations of human negativity that writhed and festered in every dark corner, feeding off their fears, their anger, their despair. Cursesâborn from the collective malice and suffering of humanityâplagued every populated area, invisible to ordinary eyes but deadly nonetheless. Only jujutsu sorcerers could see and combat these twisted creatures, wielding cursed energy to exorcise the monsters before they could harm innocent people. These people had no clue that the school girl leaning against the pillar would dedicate her life to this invisible war, to putting everything on the line to protect their blissful ignorance.
It was a burden that only jujutsu sorcerers could understandâthe weight of fighting battles no one else could see, of standing guard over a world that would never thank them because it would never know. Becoming a sorcerer hadn't been Kana's first choice, but it was better than the alternative she'd been offered.
A flash of familiar dark fabric caught her attention through the sea of civilians. Two boys in uniforms similar to hers moved through the station with purpose. The first was blonde with sharp features and an expression that suggested he'd rather be anywhere else. The second had warm, brown hair and moved with an animated energy that seemed almost out of place in the sweltering heatâhis head swiveled constantly as he scanned the crowd. Despite his eager searching, he failed to notice Kana, their third and final first-year classmate.
She decided to keep it that way for now. Kana pushed off from the pillar and began to trail them, her footsteps silent despite the crowded platform. She'd perfected the art of moving unnoticed years agoâa skill that had once meant the difference between survival and punishment.
âYou sure weâre supposed to meet her here?" the brunette asked, sounding worried. "Maybe we should check the other platforms?"
âYaga-sensei said the east entrance," the blonde replied, sounding bored. He pulled out his phone and tapped on the screen, clearly checking the time. "We're exactly where we're supposed to be. If she doesn't show up soon, we'll have to leave without her."
"Come on, Nanami, don't be like that. It's our first day! We should stick together." The brunette's enthusiasm was almost infectious, though his companion seemed immune to its effects. "Besides, what if she's lost? Tokyo Station is huge!"
Nanamiâso that was the blonde's nameâadjusted his collar with obvious irritation. Maybe the heat was getting to him too. "If she can't navigate a train station, I have serious concerns about her ability to handle cursed spirits."
Kana huffed a small laugh. If only he knew she could handle much worse than cursed spirits. Now seemed as good a time as any to make her move.
"Waiting for someone?" she asked, stepping up behind them.
Both boys whirled around. She watched their eyes take in her uniform first, then flicker upwardâcatching on her bright cherry-red hair before meeting her equally red eyes. The unusual pairing always made people look twice, but combined with her vulpine gaze and striking features, she was more than accustomed to turning heads.
The brunette recovered from his surprise first, his initial shock melting into a wide grin.
"Oh! Hi! You must be our classmate!" He thrust out his hand so abruptly that Kana's body reacted before her mind caught upâshe stepped back, her right hand twitching toward her hip where a blade would normally rest.
His grin faltered slightly, confusion flickering across his face.
Kana forced herself to relax, to smile. She recalled the stern text she'd received that morning from Yaga.
Be nice.
I'm always nice :P
He hadn't bothered to respond to her message.
"Sorry," she said, stepping forward again to take his hand. "You surprised me."
His smile returned in full force. "I'm Haibara Yu, but you can call me Yu! It's really nice to meet you!"
"Kana," she replied.
"Kana..." Yu trailed off expectantly, his head tilting as he waited for her surname.
"Just Kana." Her tone was friendly enough, but with a firmness that made it clear she would not elaborate further.
She turned her attention to the blonde, who may have looked bored earlier, but had been studying her with sharp, analytical eyes throughout the exchange.Â
"Nanami Kento," he offered with a polite bow that she returned with a brief nod.
Silence stretched between them in the middle of the busy station. Kana watched Yu search for something to say to bridge the uncomfortable gap.
"Well," Yu finally chimed in, smile never wavering, "I guess we should head to school now! Don't want to be late on our first day, right?"
The trio began making their way through the station toward the exit. Kana positioned herself slightly behind the other twoâclose enough to seem part of the group, far enough to maintain her own space.
They emerged from the station into sunlight that felt like a physical weight. The street outside was marginally less crowded, though still full of traffic and pedestrians hurrying about their business.
"So this is really happening, huh?" Yu mused aloud. "We're actually going to learn how to be proper jujutsu sorcerers. I mean, I've been toying around with my technique for a while, but actual formal training? That's different, you know?"
"Hopefully they'll teach us something useful," Nanami said dryly.
"I'm sure they will," Yu said before turning to Kana. "What about you? Have you been using your ability long? Did you have anyone teaching you before this?"
"I've figured things out on my own, mostly," Kana replied, keeping it vague. The truth was more complicated, but she wasn't about to share it with people sheâd just met.
As they walked, the cityscape gradually began to shiftâfewer cars, wider sidewalks, the buildings spacing out like they were finally allowed to breathe. The air grew lighter, carrying hints of earth and greenery as the path climbed upward.
"So, Kanaâwhatâs your cursed technique?" Yu asked as soon no one was within earshot. âMineâs called Reverberation. I can create shockwaves from physical impacts. Iâm still working on controlling the direction and intensity, but Principal Yaga says Iâve got potential!â
âThatâs really cool,â Kana said, already imagining the possibilitiesâhitting multiple opponents at once, incapacitating targets without getting too close, maybe even breaking through barriers.
Her gaze drifted to Nanami, walking quietly with his hands in his pockets as he observed their surroundings. âWhat about you?" she asked.
Nanami glanced at her briefly, then spoke with what she was quickly learning was characteristic bluntness. "Ratio Technique. I divide a target using a sevenâthree ratio and create weak points. Striking those points significantly amplifies the damage.â
Yu let out a low whistle. "That's so precise! No wonder you seem so serious.â
"Well someone has to be."
Yu turned back to Kana with renewed curiosity. "What about you? You never actually told us yours."
Kana's steps slowed.Â
Even saying it aloud felt like exposing a vulnerabilityâone that someone would inevitably exploit. It had been years since she'd been around anyone besides Yaga and the Inumaki family. Yuâs easy friendliness felt foreign after so long with only a handful of trusted faces.
âI donât really have a cursed technique,â she said at last. âJust an innate ability.â
Yu blinked, then shot Nanami a quick look. âOh? What kind of ability?â
âI can absorb cursed energy,â Kana replied, her voice quieter than before.
âThatâs incredible! So you could exorcise curses just by absorbing all their energy?â
âOnly if their attacks make direct contact with me,â Kana explained. âAnd there areâŚlimitations.â
âWhat can you do with the absorbed energy?â Nanami asked, seeming genuinely interested.
âSince I donât have a technique, I can only release it in a blast,â she said. âOr imbue weapons with it.â She hesitated, then added, âOr transfer it to someone else.â
Yu's eyes widened with excitement. "Wait, you can transfer cursed energy? That's insane! I've never heard of anyone who could do that." He bounced on his heels slightly, his enthusiasm undeterred by the heat. "So you could like, recharge someone in the middle of a fight? That's such a supportive ability!"
Nanami's expression remained neutral, but something shifted in his voice. "Abilities that rely on taking damage to be useful tend to be...taxing." It wasn't quite sympathy, but it was closer than his usual detachment.
Yu opened his mouth to ask another question, but Kana cut him off smoothly. âSo Yu, what do you like to do for fun?"
The redirection worked. "Oh! Well, I really likeâ"
Kana's eyes flicked to Nanami as Yu launched into his explanation. The blonde was still watching her, and it was clear he'd noticed her deflection. But he said nothing, just held her gaze for a moment before looking away.
Yu talked the rest of the way, filling the silence with stories about his hobbiesâsoccer, video games, the ramen shop near his old school that he already missed. As Kana listened, something twisted in her chest. Envy, maybe, or longing for something she'd never had.
But there was no point dwelling on what couldn't be changed. That life had never been hers to begin with, and she didn't deserve it now. All she could do was keep moving forward.
The path continued to climb, Tokyo sprawling behind them like a living map, growing smaller with each step they took toward their new lives at Jujutsu High.
Eventually, they reached what appeared to be the end of the trailâa dense copse of trees that seemed to block any further progress. But as they drew closer, Kana's eyes could see what ordinary people could not: an inky barrier that shimmered like heat waves, nearly invisible except for the way it seemed to bend light around its edges. To non-sorcerers, it would appear as nothing more than an impenetrable forest, a natural dead end to discourage further exploration.
Yu approached the barrier with obvious excitement. "Ready to officially become Jujutsu High students?"
"We're already students. This is just the entrance," Nanami said, though even he couldn't quite hide the hint of anticipation in his voice.
Yu stepped through first, disappearing into the dark membrane. Nanami followed, his posture straight as the barrier rippled around him and swallowed him whole.
Kana took a breath and approached. The moment she got close, her skin began to prickle with awarenessâshe could feel the concentrated cursed energy woven into the barrier's construction even before she made contact.
She stepped through.
The sensation hit her immediatelyâstatic electricity crackling across every nerve ending, making her jaw clench involuntarily. But worse than the physical discomfort was the pull. Something deep within her roiled and twisted, demanding she draw in the energy, absorb it, take it for herself. The barrier was rich with cursed energy, potent and old, and the thing that lived beneath her skin hungered for it in a way that made her stomach turn.
She gritted her teeth, fighting against the instinct as memories clawed their way to the surfaceâbeing forced to absorb, to take in more and more until she thought she'd break apart. She shoved it all down ruthlessly and pushed through to the other side.
By the time she emerged on the other side, Yu and Nanami had already moved forward a few steps, taking in the view.
It had taken less than a second to cross, but it felt like she had fought a war.
The three students paused to admire the grounds that spread out before them. A massive torii gate stood tall against the mountain backdrop, its red pillars marking the official entrance to Tokyo Jujutsu High. The traditional architecture was breathtaking in its contrast to the modern city they'd left behind. Ancient trees cast shade over winding stone pathways, and the air itself felt different hereâcharged with centuries of residual cursed energy.
The beauty was undeniable, but so was the weight of what this place represented. A fortress. A training ground. A place that turned students into warriors against horrors most people would never have to face.
"Impressive, isn't it?" Yu said softly. "Hard to believe we're actually here."
Kana nodded slowly, still drinking in the sight. There was something both intimidating and strangely comforting about this placeâlike she might have finally found somewhere she could belong.
"First years!"
A commanding voice cut through their quiet observations like a blade. Masamichi Yaga approached them with the measured stride of a man accustomed to being obeyed without question. His broad shoulders and stern expression radiated the same authority Kana remembered from their first meetingâback when she'd had little choice but to accept his offer.
"Welcome to Tokyo Jujutsu High," Yaga said, coming to a stop before them. His dark eyes swept over each of them in turn, assessing. "Normally, each class would have its own instructor, but we're short-staffed at the moment. I'll be acting as your teacher until another can be hired."
He reached into his jacket and pulled out three plastic cards. "First things firstâhere are your student ID cards. Keep them with you at all times, and take care not to lose them. They grant you access to the buildings and identify you as official sorcerers-in-training."
Yaga handed them out one by one. Kana looked down at hersâher photo stared back at her, unsmiling, her red eyes almost glowing against the white background. Below it, her name: Kana. No surname. And beneath that, her rank: Grade 3 Sorcerer.
"Whoa, I'm a Grade 2!" Yu exclaimed, holding up his card with obvious pride. He turned to the others eagerly. "What about you guys?"
"Grade 2 as well," Nanami said, his tone neutral but a hint of satisfaction in his eyes.
Both boys looked at Kana expectantly.
She hesitated, then muttered, "Grade 3."
"Hey, that's still really good!" Yu said immediately. "You'll rank up in no time, I'm sure of it. These things are based on what they know about us right now, right? Once they see what you can doâ"
Kana's gaze lifted to Yaga, who was studying her intently. Their eyes met, and an unspoken understanding passed between them. She knew deep down she was stronger than that ranking suggested. But she also knew that her true power could never be revealed. Not fully. Not if she wanted to survive.
Yaga's expression gave nothing away as he turned to address all three of them. "Now then, let me give you a tour of the campus."
They followed him along the stone pathways, their footsteps echoing off the ancient architecture. Yaga led them first to the classroom buildingâa traditional structure with sliding doors and tatami mat floors. The rooms were sparse but functional, with desks arranged in rows and blackboards at the front.
"Most of your lessons will take place here," Yaga explained. "Jujutsu history, curse theory, technique development. Knowledge is just as important as physical ability in this line of work."
Next was the gymnasiumâa modern building that stood in stark contrast to the traditional architecture around it. Inside, the space was vast and open, with training mats covering most of the floor and various equipment lining the walls.
"This is where you'll spend most of your time," Yaga said. "Physical conditioning, combat training, technique practiceâyour bodies are weapons. You'll learn to hone them accordingly."
The dining hall came last, a warm space with long wooden tables. Large windows looked out over the mountains, and Kana could imagine it would be peaceful here in the mornings, watching the sunrise while eating breakfast.
As they left the dining hall, Yaga turned to them with an inscrutable expression. "Before I show you to your dorm rooms, there's one more stop we need to make."
He led them across campus to a wide-open field bordered by trees. As they approached, Kana could see three figures standing together in the center of the field.
Two tall boys with opposing hair colorsâone with pure white hair that seemed to glow in the sunlight, the other with black hair pulled back in a neat bun. Between them stood a girl with brown hair, a lit cigarette dangling from her lips.
"This is where we hold the Sister School Goodwill Event," Yaga explained as they walked. "Once a year, our students compete against Kyoto Jujutsu High in a series of challenges. It's a tradition thatâ"
"Ieiri! Put that out. Now!" Yaga's voice cracked like a whip across the field.
The girl with the cigarette didn't even flinch. "We're outside, sensei," she drawled.
"You're seventeen years old and on school grounds," Yaga said, his tone brooking no argument. "Put. It. Out."
The girl sighed dramatically and held out the cigarette to the boy with black hair. "You mind taking care of this?" she asked lazily.
"I'm not summoning a curse to be your personal ashtray," he told her, though there was amusement in his voice.
She huffed, then dropped the cigarette to the ground and crushed it beneath her shoe with exaggerated slowness.
Yaga pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose, exhaling slowly. When he looked up again, he seemed to have aged five years. "First years, meet the second years."
He gestured to the girl first. "Ieiri Shoko." She gave a lazy two-fingered wave, her eyes lingering on Yu for a moment longer than necessary, a small smile playing at her lips.
"Geto Suguru." The boy with black hair offered a soft smirk and a nod. His eyes were kind, his expression gentle, but when his gaze met Kana's, something within her stirredâa warning bell that rang deep in her gut. She couldn't explain it, but every instinct she'd honed over years of survival told her to be careful around him.
"And last but not least," Yaga said with barely concealed exasperation, "the bane of my existenceâGojo Satoru."
The white-haired boy was tall, his pristine appearance and relaxed posture making him look like he'd stepped out of a magazine. Dark sunglasses hid his eyes, but his grin was sharp and self-assured. He was beautiful, Kana realized with some annoyance. The kind of beauty that felt dangerous to look at directly, like staring at the sun.
She wanted to punch him right in his perfect face.
"These are your first years," Yaga continued. "Haibara Yu, Nanami Kento, and Kana."
"Seriously?" Gojo groaned, tilting his head back dramatically. "What are we actually doing here? Because if you dragged us out in this heat just for introductionsâ"
"You're going to have a practice battle," Yaga said flatly.
That got everyone's attention. Even Ieiri straightened slightly, her lazy demeanor sharpening into something more interested.
"A practice battle?" Yu repeated, looking nervous.
Yaga nodded. "There's a flag hidden somewhere on these grounds. Your objective is to find it and deliver it to me. Consider it an orientation exercise. You'll face our second years in a practical assessment. It will give us a chance to evaluate your current abilities and determine where to focus your training."
Kana couldn't help but perk up at the challenge, her muscles already tensing in anticipation.
Gojo and Geto exchanged conspiratorial looks, their grins widening.
"Already throwing the newbies to the wolves?" Gojo teased. "Harsh, sensei. I like it."
Yaga looked at each student in turn, his gaze lingering on Kana as he spoke. "No weapons. You may use your cursed techniques, but I want clean fighting. This is an assessment, not a bloodbath. Excessive force will result in immediate disqualification and consequences. Understood?"
Kana bristled at the not-so-subtle message directed at her. Though it made no differenceâshe could be just as dangerous unarmed.
A chorus of acknowledgments followed.
"I'll give you a few moments to strategize before we begin," Yaga said, then stepped back to give them space.
The two groups separated, putting distance between themselves. Kana moved with Yu and Nanami to the edge of the field.
"So...anyone have a plan?" Yu asked, looking nervous as he glanced back at the second years.
Kana rolled her shoulders and began to stretch out her arms. "Our best chance is to attack head-on and separate the three of them. Especially given the recoil potential with your technique, Yu."
"The objective is to find and return the flag," Nanami pointed out. "Shouldn't one of us focus on that instead?"
"It'll be easier to neutralize them before searching for the flag," Kana said, bending forward to touch her toes. "And they likely won't expect such an aggressive move from first years. They'll assume we'll play it safe."
She bent over deeper, feeling the satisfying pull in her hamstrings, and couldn't help but smirk as Yu and Nanami bashfully averted their gazes.
"Yu, you take Ieiri. Nanami, you're on Geto. I'll deal with the snowflake."
Yu's jaw practically hit the ground. "Kana, did you not hear Yaga? That's Gojo Satoru!â
"I heard," Kana said, straightening up and twisting her torso to stretch her back.
"He's the Gojo clan's prodigy," Yu continued, his voice filled with equal parts awe and concern. "The first person to be born with both the Six Eyes and Limitless technique in a hundred years. Those are legendary abilities. His family is one of the Big Three sorcerer clans. He'sâ"
"So he's the strongest?" Kana interrupted, looking up from her stretch.
"Yeah," Yu confirmed hesitantly. "He's definitely the strongest. Like, it's not even close."
Across the field, Gojo laughed at something Geto had said, his whole body language radiating the kind of confidence that came from never having truly lost a fight. It was the same arrogance Kana had seen in countless opponents over the yearsâthe assumption that reputation and raw power would be enough to secure victory.
She'd survived by proving people like that wrong.
Kana's lips curved into a smirk. "Good. Then he's mine."
Nanami squinted at her, studying her with those sharp, analytical eyes. "Just how capable are you?" he asked carefully.
Kana straightened, slipping a hair tie from her wrist and pulling her cherry-red hair up into a high ponytail. A few strands escaped to frame her face. "Are you asking because I'm a Grade 3?" She paused, meeting his eyes. "Or because I'm a girl?"
Tension crackled between them. Nanami held her gaze for a long moment before relenting. "After this, you're going to start giving us straight answers."
"We'll see about that," Kana said breezily.
Nanami looked like he wanted to argue further, but Yaga's voice cut across the training grounds: "Time's up! Take your positions!"
"This is not going to end well," Nanami muttered under his breath.
Yu grabbed Kana's arm before she could walk away. "Are you sure about this? I mean, really sure? Because if you get hurtââ
"I won't," Kana said simply. The certainty in her voice seemed to give Yu pause.
"Just...be careful, okay?"
Kana felt something catch in her chest at his earnest concern. No one in her life had ever cared about her safety before, yet this boy she'd met only a few hours ago showed more compassion than she could remember experiencing in years. She quickly shoved down the feeling. She had a fight to focus on.
"I will," she said, and meant it.
As they moved into position, Kana's mind emptied into the cool calm that had been trained into her since childhood. She knew of the Gojo clanâeveryone in the sorcery world did. She didn't know the full extent of Gojo's abilities, but she knew her own. And she knew that she'd been forged in fire that would make even the strongest prodigy hesitate.
"Ready," Yaga called out.
Kana had been trained for years to be the most dangerous person in any given room. Her innate ability was just another tool in her arsenal. It was time to show them exactly how strong she really was.
"Set."
She and Gojo stood across from each other, separated by no more than a few yards. His sunglasses had been pushed up, and his eyes were strikingâbrilliant blue, almost crystalline, with an otherworldly quality that reminded her he wasn't quite like other sorcerers. The Six Eyes saw things no one else could, and right now they were fixed entirely on her.
She held his stare, unflinching. Around them, the others were taking their positions, but Kana's entire focus had narrowed to the boy in front of her. He tilted his head slightly, his grin widening into something genuinely amused.
mess it up sneak peek just because i love this moment so much:
Bokuto leaned back in his chair, his eyes going distant. "Birdie and I were best friends growing up. We never really defined anything, but we loved each other even back then. It had always just been the two of us." His smile turned softer, more genuine. "But when Keiji came to Fukurodani and joined the team...it was like a syzygy."
Atsumu blinked. He glanced at Kiyoomi, who looked just as confused as he felt.
"A sisi-what?" Atsumu asked.
"Syzygy," Bokuto repeated. "Like, an alignment of three planetary forces. You know, when everything just clicks into place?" He tilted his head, noticing their expressions. "Why are you guys looking at me like that?"
"Is that from a word of the day calendar or something?" Kiyoomi asked flatly.
Bokuto's eyebrows shot up. "You know I went to college, right?"
"So did I, but you don't hear me acting like a walking dictionary."
"Okay, okay. Can we focus, please?" Atsumu interrupted.
"That's rich, coming from you," Kiyoomi muttered under his breath.
Erwin paced by the window of the Commandant's office, trying to expel some of his fury. It was the only movement he'd allow himself, the only crack in his composure he could afford in front of witnesses.
Everyone was confused by his presence. A Survey Corps squad leader arriving unannounced and demanding to speak with a cadet was unusual, to say the least. But Erwin had maintained a professional demeanor even as his rage simmered beneath the surface.
Six months.
Six months of unanswered letters. At first, he told himself she was simply busyâthat life had gotten in the way. She should have been starting her final year of primary school by now, deciding what she wanted to do after graudation. She had seemed content with Marie's family, safe and settled. Living a normal life.
He'd been a fool.
It wasn't until he made the journey to visit her in person that Marie had told him the truth, her expression apologetic and uncomfortable. She had left. Months ago. She'd joined the Cadet Corps.
The betrayal had hit him like a physical blow.
Erwin's head snapped toward the sound of the door opening, his pacing halted mid-stride. A young woman walked through the doorway, still in her training uniform, her posture rigid with obvious tension.
Grace.
He barely recognized his own sister.
The long hair that she had always worn past her shoulders was gone, cut short to rest just at her chin. It made her look older, harder. More like a soldier.
The sight sent a sharp ache through his chest.
"What have you done?" Erwin lashed out before the door had fully closed. The words came out harsher than he'd intended, but he couldn't soften them. Not now.
Grace's jaw tightened, her stormy blue eyesâso like their father's, like his ownâmeeting his without flinching. "Hello to you too, Erwin."
"Don't." He snapped, crossing the space between them. "Don't act casual about this. What the hell were you thinking?"
"I was thinking," Grace said, her voice steady despite the fire in her eyes, "that I'm capable of making my own decisions."
"Capable?" Erwin's laugh was bitter. "You're sixteen years old. You have no idea what you've signed up for."
"You enlisted at fifteen," Grace retorted. Her eyes shifted to the patch on his jacketâthe Wings of Freedom, the symbol of humanityâs hopeâand lingered there before meeting his gaze again. "I know exactly what I've signed up for."
The realization settled over him with brutal clarity.
She wanted to follow in his footsteps. She wanted to join the Survey Corps.
"Do you? The Survey Corps has a seventy percent mortality rate on expeditions. Seventy percent, Grace. That means seven out of every ten soldiers who ride beyond those walls don't come back."
"I know the statisticsâ"
"Knowing them and understanding them are two different things!" His voice rose despite his best efforts to remain composed. Erwin forced himself to take a breath, fighting against the panic clawing up his throat. "You've been enrolled for months. Months. And you didn't think to tell me?"
Grace's expression flickeredâguilt, perhaps, or defensiveness. "Would you have let me join if I had?"
âNo.â
"Exactly." She crossed her arms. "That's why I didn't tell you."
Erwin stared at her, feeling the conversation slipping away from him. This wasn't how it was supposed to go.
"I joined the military so you could have a normal life," he said, his voice dropping to something quieter but no less intense. "So I could support you, keep you safe. That was the entire point."
"The point?" Grace's voice sharpened. "You never asked me what I wanted, Erwin. You made that decision for me.â
"Because I'm your brotherâ"
âJust because youâre my brother doesnât mean you get to dictate my life!â The words burst from her. Erwin had never seen Grace this angry. âYou didnât care enough to stay with me, so why do you care what I do now?â
"Don't act like I'm the unreasonable one here. I worked my way up through the ranks to provide for you. Every decision I made was so you wouldn't have to live this life!â
"Well, maybe I don't want the life you chose for me!" Grace stepped forward, her voice rising to match his. "Maybe I want something more than sitting around waiting to become someone's wife, pretending the world outside the walls doesn't exist!"
"There's nothing wrong with that lifeâ"
"I tried!" Grace cried out, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. "For years, I tried to be what everyone wanted. I stayed with Marie. I got perfect marks. I learned to cook and sew and smile politely through every unwanted advance. Believe me, I tried to be normal."
Her voice cracked. "But I couldn't see a future for myself like that. Not one that felt like living."
Erwin felt his grip on the conversation slip further. The strain of the past weeksâShadis's rejection of his long-range scouting formation, the mounting casualties, the fear that he'd never get the chance to prove his theories rightâsettled on him like armor he couldn't remove.
And now this.
His sister, standing in front of him in uniform, filled with the same idealism that had driven him to enlist. The same desperate hope for something better beyond the walls.
âThis is not a life you want, Grace,â Erwin said, forcing his voice steady. âTrust me.â
âYou wouldnât have a clue what I want, Erwin. You havenât been around long enough to know.â
The words cut deeper than a blade.
âThatâs not fairââ
âIsnât it?â Her eyes glistened, anger and hurt blurring together. âWhen was the last time we actually talked? When did you ever ask me how I was doing, what I was thinking about? You send money with letters that are barely a paragraph, like I'm a problem you manage from a distance.
âI was trying to protect youââ
âBy pushing me away? By deciding my future without asking what I wanted?â She shook her head. âYou donât get to do that just because youâre afraid.â
His jaw tightened. âDad would never have allowed this.â
The hurt in her expression was immediate, sharp. âDonât speak for him,â Grace said quietly. Her voice trembled. âHeâs not here anymore. You never wanted to talk about him after he died, so donât you fucking dare start now.â
Silence fell over the office. Erwin opened his mouthâthen closed it.
She was right. He had buried his grief, his rage, his guilt so deep that even brushing against it felt unbearable. He couldnât face the truth of it. The role heâd played. And he couldnât explain any of that to her.
"You'll join the Garrison," he said flatly.
Grace stared at him. âExcuse me?â
"It's still military serviceâbut you'll be safer." His expression hardened into the one he wore when issuing orders.
"You can't be serious."
"I am." Erwin's voice left no room for argument. "If you insist on serving, then you'll do it somewhere I don't have to watch you die."
Grace flinched, and for a moment she looked nothing like a future soldierâjust his younger sister, devastated by her brother's lack of faith. "You don't even think I can make the top ten, do you?" Her voice came out small, wounded.
Erwin went still.
That wasn't what he'd meant, or at least not entirely. But he heard it now, the way she didânot concern, but doubt. A quiet, cutting certainty that he didn't believe she was capable enough.
"Grace, that's notâ"
"Isn't it?" She stepped toward him, hurt sharpening into something rawer. "You're already deciding my future because you think I'll fail."
"That's not why." He forced himself to meet her eyes, to hold her gaze even as he felt the ground shifting beneath this conversation. "Do you have any idea what it's like out there? What we face every time we ride beyond the walls?"
His voice roughened despite his attempt at control. "I've seen too many deaths, Grace. Good soldiers. Experienced soldiersâpeople who'd survived dozens of expeditionsâtorn apart by Titans while they screamed for help that never came." The memories clawed at him, vivid and unrelenting. "I've had to write letters to families, explaining that their loved ones won't be coming home. That we couldn't even recover the bodies for burial."
He drew a breath, but it didn't steady him. "I won't lose you too. You're all I have left."
"So I just have to be okay with losing you?" Grace's voice cracked.
Erwin blinked, caught off guard. "What?"
"You're all I have too. And you left." Her hands trembled at her sides. "So what happens to me if I lose you? What am I supposed to do then?"
The question hung between them, stripping away every justification he'd built. Erwin opened his mouth but found no answer.
Grace's expression softened slightly, but the determination in her eyes didn't waver. "Erwinâ"
"No." He cut her off. "This discussion is over. You'll join the Garrison or the Military Police if you earn it. Those are your options."
He walked toward the door, each step deliberate and final.
"Erwin, waitâ"
He paused at the threshold but didn't turn around. He couldn't let her see the fracture in his resolve. "I refuse to let you sacrifice your life for some idealistic dream. That's final."
The choosing ceremony took place in the city of Trost, where graduating cadets would publicly declare which of the three military branches they would join. The afternoon sun bathed the assembled soldiers in golden light as Commander Keith Shadis stepped forward to address them.
As a newly promoted captain, Erwin stood on stage behind Commander Shadis. His friend and comrade Miche stood beside him, both at parade rest.
"The Survey Corps is the force that carries humanity's hope," Shadis began, his voice carrying across the courtyard. "To choose the Scouts is to accept a noble callingâto be among the brave few who venture beyond the walls so that humanity may one day reclaim its freedom. This is the path of honor, of sacrifice willingly given for the future of mankind."
Erwin had heard this speech enough times that he could recite it from memory. But today, listening to Shadis speak, each word felt like a stone settling in his gut.
Because Grace stood somewhere in that crowd.
It took some time, but they eventually moved past their argument. Grace had apologized for lying to Erwin about her enlistment, and Erwin had apologized for his controlling behavior. There was still much left unsaid between them, but they had come to an understanding.
Grace would be nineteen when she graduated from the Cadet Corps. She would be an adult, and would make her own choice.
"Those who are willing to dedicate their hearts to humanity's future should remain here," Shadis concluded. "The rest are dismissed."
The sound of footsteps began immediately as cadets made their regiment selection. Erwinâs heart sank as the crowd thinned out rapidly.
Grace stood proudly beside a young man who appeared to be about her same age, her short hair moving slightly in the breeze, posture unwavering.
Two cadets. Out of an entire training class, only two had chosen the Scouts.
It had been several years since they'd had so few volunteer, but Erwin had been around long enough to notice the cycle. Their recent expeditions had once again decimated their numbers, which hindered recruitment.
Shadis walked off the stage, stopping before the cadets.
"Your names," he said, his tone formal but not unkind.
"Moblit Berner, sir," the young man replied immediately.
Erwin recognized him from the personnel filesâhe was ranked seventh in the class.
"Grace Smith, sir," his sister annouced, her voice clear and firm.
Within those same files, Erwin had learned that Grace ranked fourthâhigh enough to join the Military Police if she'd wanted. Instead, she'd declined to be officially ranked, a quiet declaration that she'd always intended to choose the Scouts.Â
Both pride and dread warred within him.
"Cadets Berner and Smith." Shadis's voice carried across the now quiet courtyard. "Welcome to the Survey Corps."
Grace and Moblit snapped into salutes.
Grace's eyes found Erwin's for just a moment. There was no triumph in her gaze, no smugness. Only steady determination and something softerâan unspoken apology.
Or perhaps a promise.
Erwin saluted in return, forcing his expression to remain neutral, professional. He couldn't show favoritism, couldn't let anyone see the turmoil churning beneath the surface.
But inside, his mind was already racing through every possible scenario, every way he could keep her safe.
It didn't take long for the problems to start.
Grace was ostracized almost immediately. The other soldiersâparticularly those who'd lost friends in recent expeditionsâviewed her presence with suspicion and resentment. The whispers followed her everywhere. She only joined to climb the ranks on her brother's coattails. She doesn't deserve to be here. She'll get real soldiers killed.
Erwin watched from a distance as Grace endured the cold shoulders. She never complained, never came to him for help. She simply put her head down and worked twice as hard as anyone else.
It made something in his chest ache.
As much as he wanted to intervene, he knew doing so would only make things worse. She had to prove herself on her own terms, or she'd never be accepted.
Still, it took every ounce of his discipline not to say something when he overheard a group of soldiers mocking her during training, snickering about "Her Majesty" and how the Smith siblings were treated like Scout royalty. Or when she ate alone in the mess hall while others deliberately avoided her tableâher own squadmates included. At least Miche and Hange made time to sit with her when they could, and Moblit remained steadfastly at her side, undeterred by the others' hostility.
Miche, perceptive as always, noticed his tension during one of their planning sessions.
"She's tougher than she looks," Miche said quietly, not looking up from the map they were reviewing. "She'll adapt."
"I know." Erwin's voice was tight.
"Do you?" Miche finally glanced at him. "Because you're wound tighter than a spring, and it's going to become obvious if you're not careful."
Erwin forced himself to relax his shoulders. "I'm fine."
Miche huffed out a breath that might have been amusement, though his tone stayed gentle. "You're a terrible liar when it comes to her. She chose this path. You have to let her walk it."
The words were logical, sensible. Everything Erwin would have told someone else in his position.
That didn't make them any easier to accept.
The evenings were different, though. In the privacy of his office, they could set aside rank and regiment. Grace would knock on his door after dinner, tea already steeping in a small pot she'd commandeered from the kitchen, and settle into the chair across from his desk where the chess set waited.
Their father had taught Erwin the game when he was young, coaching him through each move until the patterns became second nature. Years later, Erwin had passed those same lessons on to Grace, watching her grow from a fumbling beginner into a formidable opponent.
Those hours were sacred. It was the only time they could be themselves freelyâsiblings instead of soldiers, Grace and Erwin instead of cadet and captain.
Erwin was good at chessâperhaps too good. His mind naturally grasped strategy and foresight, seeing moves three and four steps ahead. Grace lost more often than not, though she never seemed discouraged by it. If anything, she relished the challenge, studying the board with fierce concentration as she tried to anticipate his plays.
Still, she seemed genuinely happy just to spend time with him, even when he was overwhelmed and terrible company.
She would stay by his side for hours, offering to help with paperwork when she noticed his exhaustion. Her presence was steady and uncomplaining, smiling softly as she organized reports while he drafted proposals.
The guilt gnawed at him during those moments.
He had left her. Years ago, when she was barely more than a child, he had left her to join the military.
There had been no other optionâhe reminded himself of that constantly. After their father's death, their neighbors' generosity had only gone so far. Everyone was struggling to get by within the walls, and charity had its limits. Erwin and Grace had tried doing odd jobs around townârunning errands, hauling goods, whatever work they could findâbut it was never nearly enough to keep them fed and sheltered.
Erwin had made his decision one night while comforting Grace during a nightmare.
She'd been thrashing in her sleep, crying out for their father. Erwin had gone to her, sitting on the edge of her narrow bed and rubbing her back in slow, soothing circles until she fell back asleep. In the darkness of their cramped room, watching her small frame curled beneath a threadbare blanket, he had made his vow.
He would join the military. He would find out the secrets of the Titans and the walls. He would prove their father was rightâthat humanity's history had been deliberately erased, that there was a world beyond the walls worth fighting for.
And he would make amends for saying words aloud that should have never been spoken. Words that had reached the wrong ears and led to his death.
Grace had been in the house that night. Hidden and silent while strangers tore it apart, while their father was beaten and dragged away against his will. She had stayed there until morning, until Erwin returned from a friendâs house and found herâsmall, shaking, and alone.
It was the least he could do for her.
So he had left, promising to send money home, promising to return as often as he could. Grace had been ten years old. The look in her eyes when heâd said goodbye still haunted him.
Now, years later, she was still trying to help himâstill putting his needs before her ownâand the guilt was overwhelming.
She had every reason to resent him. To hate him for leaving her alone. Instead, she had followed him into the very same danger he'd hoped to spare her from.
"Checkmate," Erwin said quietly, moving his final piece into position.
Grace studied the board for a long moment before sighing in defeat. "I thought I had you this time."
"You're improving," he said, and meant it. She'd lasted longer than usual, forced him to think harder about his strategy.
"High praise from the master strategist," she teased gently, but there was pride in her eyes at the compliment.
Erwin began resetting the pieces. "Another round?"
Grace's answering smile was bright enough to ease some of the weight in his chest.
"Always."
The first expedition came faster than Erwin would have liked.
It was meant to be relatively straightforwardâa simple resupply mission to a checkpoint beyond the walls. More importantly, it would be the first real test of Erwin's long-range scouting formation, the strategic plan that Commander Shadis had finally agreed to implement after months of revisions.
Erwin should have been focused entirely on the formation, on proving its effectiveness. But as they prepared to depart, his attention kept drifting to where Grace was checking her ODM gear alongside Moblit.
She looked calm, composed. But he knew her well enough to see the tension in her shoulders, the unnecessary adjustments she kept making to already secure straps.
Most Scouts didn't survive their first expedition. And those who did were forever changed by what they witnessed beyond the walls.
The thought of Grace seeing what he'd seen, experiencing what he'd experiencedâit made his hands clench involuntarily around his reins.
"Captain Smith." Shadis' voice cut through his thoughts. "Your section is ready?"
"Yes, sir." Erwin's response was automatic, professional.
"Good. Remember, this formation is your design. Its success or failure falls on you."
No pressure, then.
As the formation began to assemble, Erwin moved toward his designated position. He took one last look back at Grace, only to find her eyes already locked on him from across the courtyard. For a moment, everything else fell away, and it was just the two of them.
Then she raised her fist to her heart and knocked three times in quick succession. It wasn't the standard saluteâit was something entirely her own, a gesture that clearly meant something even if he didn't yet understand what.
Erwin held her gaze for one breath longer, committing the moment to memory. He offered her a salute in return and turned away, forcing himself back into the role of captain.
The gates began to open with their familiar groan of metal and stone. Erwin took his position at the front of his section, struggling to focus with the knowledge that Grace would be in the ranks behind him.
He couldn't watch over her. Couldn't protect her without compromising the mission or his position. She was just another soldier under his command, nothing more.
He had to believe that. Had to trust she would survive.
As the order came to advance, Erwin urged his horse forward. The thunder of hooves filled the air as the Survey Corps rode out through the gates, into the world of Titans and death that waited beyond.
That strange salute stayed with him, nagging at the edges of his awareness even as Titans appeared on the horizon and the first flares went up.
The expedition was successful.
The formation worked better than Erwin had dared hope. Casualties were much lower than usualâonly eight soldiers lost.
It should have felt like a victory. And strategically, it was.
But Erwin had learned long ago that every victory in the Survey Corps was purchased with blood.
When his sister didn't appear for dinner, Erwin approached Moblit in the mess hall.
"Have you seen Grace?"
Moblit's expression turned concerned. "Not since we got back, sir. Last I saw she was in the stables."
Erwin found her in her horse's stall, sitting with her knees drawn up to her chest. The buckskin mare had been meticulously groomed, but Grace herself was still in her dirty uniform.
She didn't look up when he entered.
Erwin ran his hand along the mare's neck before sliding down the wall beside Grace, settling into the straw.
He'd seen that look before. On every recruit who survived their first expedition. The thousand-yard stare that came from seeing your comrades die, from understanding for the first time exactly what you'd signed up for.
Grace finally turned her head toward him, blinking slowly, as if she was returning from somewhere far away.
"The first one is always the hardest," Erwin said quietly.
"Does it get easier?" Her voice was hoarse, like she'd been screaming.
He considered lying. Considered telling her what she might want to hear.
But she deserved the truth.
"No," he admitted. "You just get better at carrying it."
Grace nodded slowly. They sat in silence for a long moment, the sound of horses shifting in nearby stalls the only noise.
"I saw someone die," she finally said. "Right in front of me. A Titan grabbed her, and I couldn'tâthere wasn't time toâ" Her voice cracked. She quickly wiped away the tears forming.
Erwin slipped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close the way he had when they were younger.
"You did everything you could," he said. "Sometimes that isn't enough. That's the reality of fighting Titans."
"How do you live with that?" The question was barely above a whisper. "How do you keep going?"
It was the same question Erwin had asked himself countless times. The same question that woke him in the middle of the night, that haunted him during expeditions, that made him question every decision.
"You focus on the ones you can save," he said finally. "On the mission. On the reason we're out there in the first place." He paused. "And you trust that the sacrifices mean something. That we're working toward a future where these deaths won't be in vain."
Grace studied him, and he could see her processing his words.
"Is that what you tell yourself?" she asked. "Or is that what you believe?"
The question was uncomfortably perceptive. Sometimes Erwin forgot how well his sister could read him.
"Both," he admitted. "It has to be both, or I couldn't keep riding out those gates."
Grace nodded slowly, then let her head rest against his shoulder. They sat like that for a while, brother and sister in the quiet darkness of the stable.
Finally, Erwin shifted. "You need to take care of yourself. Get some food, clean up, and rest."
She didn't argue, just let him help her to her feet. They walked back toward the barracks in silence, and Erwin found himself remembering the gesture she'd made before they departed.
"Earlier today," he said carefully, "before we rode out. That salute you gave meâwhat did it mean?"
Grace looked away. "It's stupid."
"I'd like to know anyway."
She was quiet for several steps. "I couldn't wish you luck or say anything personal. You're a captain out there, not my brother. But I wantedâI needed some way to..." She trailed off, then seemed to gather her courage. "Three taps. One for each word."
Erwin's brow furrowed. "What words?"
"I love you." The admission came out barely audible. "One tap for each word. It was my way of saying it without actually saying it."
Erwin's breath caught. It was clever. It was heartbreaking. It was so completely Graceâa small gesture that let her be both soldier and sister, that acknowledged their relationship while respecting his position. He felt something tighten painfully in his throat.
"Three taps," he repeated softly.
"Told you it was stupid,â Grace mumbled, still not meeting his eyes.
"It's not stupid." The words came out rougher than he intended. "It's...thank you. For understanding why things have to be different out there."
She finally looked at him, and he saw the relief in her expression. "You're welcome."
They'd reached the entrance to the barracks. Erwin stopped, turning to face her properly.
"Get cleaned up and try to rest," he said. "I'm here if you need me."
"I know." Grace's voice was steadier now. "Erwin?"
He paused, waiting.
Grace stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. The hug was tight, almost desperate, and Erwin didn't hesitate to return it, holding his sister close.
"Thank you," she whispered against his shoulder. "For sitting with me."
"Always," he said quietly.
Grace stepped back and gave him a small smile, then opened the door and disappeared down the hallway.
Erwin stood there for a moment, breathing in the cool night air. She'd survived her first expeditionâbut the first was often luck. It was the second, the third, the tenth that would truly test whether she had what it took to stay alive beyond the walls.
Every time those gates opened, he would carry the fear that this might be the expedition she didn't return from.
Two years later, that Erwinâs fear had yet to be realized.
Through expeditions and losses, through the slow acceptance of her fellow Scouts, through battles that claimed friends and strangers alikeâGrace endured. She proved herself capable, earning the respect that had been denied her at first. She quickly became one of their most reliable soldiers.
And Erwin learned to live with the constant weight of that fear, even as she continued to defy the odds that claimed so many others. He had hoped Grace being promoted to Squad Miche would ease his concernsâMiche was one of their best, with instincts that had kept his team alive through countless expeditions. If anyone could keep Grace safe, it was him.
Her first mission with the new squad had shattered that illusion.
A Titan ambush tore through their formation, collapsing months of planning into panic and blood. Orders devolved into shouts as the retreat turned chaotic, and somewhere in that confusion, Grace and Miche were left behind.
Erwin didnât realize until the wall was already in sightâtoo focused on keeping the survivors together and moving forward. By then, it was far too late to turn back, and only twenty soldiers remained.
He'd tried to maintain his professional demeanor during the march back into the city. But then Commander Shadis had been confronted in the street by a grieving mother, and the man had simply...broken. Right there in front of everyone, the Commander had collapsed under the weight of too many losses, too many deaths he couldn't justify anymore.
Shadis had announced his resignation on the spot.
It was the opportunity Erwin had been working toward for years. The position he'd sacrificed so much to achieve. He should have been thrilled, should have been already thinking about how he would reshape the Survey Corps under his command.
Instead, he just felt numb.
He made it through the initial debrief, but the moment he was dismissed, his carefully maintained walls crumbled.
Levi and Hange stayed with him through that long night. They didn't offer empty platitudes or false hopeâjust their presence, a quiet barrier between Erwin and the rash decisions grief might drive him to. Hange brought tea that went untouched, set aside in favor of whiskey. Levi stood by the window, watching the horizon as if he could will the missing Scouts to appear.
Erwin stared blankly at the chess set on his shelf. He found himself wondering if there would even be bodies to recover if they returned to the forest. If the Titans had left anything behind at all.Â
If he had truly lost the last family he had left.
The night stretched on endlessly, each hour heavier than the last.
Then, just as dawn broke over the walls, a Scout burst into his office with news that changed everything.
Grace and Miche had returned.
Erwin had met them at the gate along with several othersâHange, Levi, Moblit, and the remaining members of Miche's squad. They were exhausted and injured but alive. They'd taken shelter in a tree and waited until nightfall when the Titans became less activeâa finding that Hange immediately noted for further research.
Erwin didn't care about propriety in that moment. He helped Grace dismount, then pulled her into an embrace. For the first time, he showed his love for her in the light of dayânot hidden in the dark when it was just the two of them, but openly, in front of his soldiers. He held on perhaps longer than he should have.
When he finally let go, he watched as she made her roundsâhugging Hange, then Moblit, the rest of her squadmates. Then she embraced Levi.
Levi froze.
For a moment, he simply stood there as Grace wrapped her arms around him. Then, slowly, awkwardly, he placed his arms around her in return. The gesture was stiff, uncertain, as if he wasn't quite sure what to do with his hands.
Hange looked like they might actually faint from shock.
Erwin noticed the way Levi's expression softened just slightly before Grace pulled away. The careful way he stepped back, as if forcing himself to let go.
It was a far cry from the hostile man who'd tried to kill Erwin, who'd agreed to join the Scouts with nothing but resentment in his eyes. Now here he was, allowing Grace to embrace him, returning the gesture with an awkwardness that spoke of something deeper than simple camaraderie.
He pushed the observation aside. There would be time to think about that later. For now, Grace was alive.
That was all that mattered.
After the celebration of his promotion, things had settled. Erwin focused on rebuilding their ranks after the devastating losses that had led to Shadis' resignation. He grew into his role as Commander, surrounding himself with brilliant minds and capable soldiers. Grace continued to excel in Miche's squad. For a while, he let himself believe they might actually be making progress.
Then Shiganshina fell.
The memory rose unbidden. The frantic ride back, the walls breached, Titans swarming through streets that had known peace for a hundred years. The weeks after had blurred into a waking nightmareâsupply lines stretched to breaking, refugee camps sprawling beyond the inner walls, and desperate crowds at every turn. They'd saved who they could from the outlying towns before Wall Maria was fully lost, pulling families from their homes as the Titans closed in, but for every wagon that made it through the gates, a dozen more were lost.
There was only so much they could do. Even with the Garrison and Military Police throwing their weight behind the effort, their numbers were spread impossibly thin. Every decision became a calculation of who lived and who didn't.
None of them had slept properly for weeks. The survivors had been haunted by what they'd witnessedâthe sounds of people being eaten, the smell of blood and death, the sheer helplessness of watching Titans devour the population while they could do nothing.
Grace had been one of those survivors. The nightmares had been relentless, leaving her hollow-eyed and numb. She'd spent many nights in his office, catching a few hours of fitful sleep on his couch because her own quarters held too many shadows.
Erwin had stayed up with her those nights, working on reports and plans while she slept nearby. It was the least he could do.
And now Trost had fallen. Another breach, another battle, more trauma for everyone to carry.
But unlike Shiganshina, Trost had been saved. Sealed. A victory, however costly.
And Grace had survived againâsaved by Levi just in time.
Erwin felt guilty for not making more of an effort to see her in the days following Trost's reclamation. The aftermath had been utterly chaoticâcoordinating the elimination of remaining Titans within the city walls, managing the evacuation of civilians, overseeing recovery operations. Every hour brought new crises that demanded his immediate attention.
But more than anything, there was Eren Yeager.
A boy who could transform into a Titan. A weapon that could change everythingâor destroy them all. The implications were staggering, and Erwin had spent nearly every waking moment since the discovery piecing together what it meant. If Eren was capable of transforming into Titans, then the Colossal and Armored Titans might be human tooâenemies with intelligence and an unknown purpose.
Still, that didn't excuse neglecting Grace. She'd nearly died during the battle, and he hadn't even laid eyes on her since returning to the city.
Before he could remedy that, however, there was another mess to clean upâone Grace had created.
Erwin sat stone-faced in a meeting room at headquarters as Captain Weilman spewed his outrage, his face turning an alarming shade of red.
Erwin kept his expression carefully neutral, though his jaw tightened. Weilman was the type of officer who enjoyed the authority of his rank more than the responsibility that came with itâa man who liked being in charge and bossing people around, but lacked the genuine care for his soldiers that made a true leader. Erwin had never liked the man, but personal distaste didn't excuse a subordinate from another regiment defying orders in front of his soldiers.
"My sister's actions were inappropriate," Erwin said evenly, though the words tasted bitter. "I don't dispute that."
"Inappropriate?" Weilman's voice climbed higher. "She should be court-martialed! Imprisoned! Made an example of!"
Erwin clasped his hands together on the table, hiding his desire to clench them into fists. Grace was already forced to remain at one of the lowest ranks despite her skill and experience, all because of his position as Commander. The accusations of nepotism followed her everywhere, making promotions impossible no matter how much she deserved them. As a private, there were precious few punishments availableâshe couldn't be demoted any further.
"Captain Weilman," Pixis interjected, "without Private Smith's actions, Trost may very well have fallen despite our best efforts. Eren Yeager would have been executed and we would never have sealed the breach. She may have been defiant, but she very well may have saved all of Wall Rose."
Weilman opened his mouth, then closed it. He at least had the decency to look somewhat chastened, realizing Pixis' comment was as much about his own failures as it was about Grace's success.
Erwin seized the opening. "I'll assign her a month of stable duty as punishment for her insubordination."
"A month of stable duty?" Weilman started to object. "That's hardlyâ"
"That will be acceptable," Pixis cut him off with finality.
The dismissal in his tone was clear. Weilman had no choice but to accept it or risk looking even more foolish.
"Fine," the captain bit out, though his expression showed he was anything but satisfied.
The meeting concluded shortly after, with Weilman storming out in a huff. Erwin remained seated for a moment, tension slowly draining from his shoulders.
"She's a good soldier," Pixis commented after the door closed. "Courageous. Perhaps a bit reckless at times." He paused, studying Erwin with that knowing look. "Reminds me of someone."
Erwin's jaw tightened slightly. "She's better than I am."
"Mmm." Pixis stood, gathering his papers. "Well, you're fortunate to have each other. Not many do, these days."
Erwin left the meeting room and made his way directly to the medical bay. It was late afternoon, the sun casting long shadows through the windows as he navigated the corridors. He'd been meaning to visit Graceâhad planned to, several timesâbut something always came up. Another crisis, another meeting, another decision that couldn't wait.
He was running out of excuses.
The medical bay was quiet when he arrived, most of the critical patients having been stabilized or moved to other facilities. A nurse directed him to Grace's bed, tucked in a corner near the windows.
She was asleep.
Erwin stood at the foot of her bed, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest. Her arms rested atop the thin blanket, covered with bruises in various stages of healingâdeep purple fading to yellow-green. She looked exhausted even in sleep, dark circles under her eyes testament to everything she'd endured.
He thought about all she had doneânot just during the Battle of Trost, but over the years. Following him into the Survey Corps despite knowing the dangers. Enduring ostracism and doubt from her fellow soldiers. Surviving expedition after expedition, carrying losses that would have broken most people.
And now this. Standing up to a captain, putting herself in the line of fire, nearly dyingâall to protect Eren Yeager. To preserve the opportunity Erwin desperately needed.
She hadn't done it for herself. She'd done it for him, for humanity's future, for the slim chance that Eren's power could change everything.
It broke his heart that she had sacrificed so much, and he had no idea how he would ever repay her.
"Commander Smith?"
Erwin turned to find a nurse approaching with a tray of medicine and fresh bandages.
"I'm going to need to wake her," the nurse said apologetically. "If you'd like to stay..."
Erwin looked back at Grace's sleeping face. He should stay. Should be there when she woke up, should thank her, should tell her how proud he was and how terrified he'd been when he heard she'd nearly died.
But standing there, looking at her battered form, knowing she'd almost been killed because she believed in his dreamâ
He couldn't do it. Not yet. He needed to process this, needed to find the right words that wouldn't betray the depth of his fear and guilt.
"No," he said quietly. "I should be going."
The nurse nodded, and Erwin turned away before he could change his mind.
The tribunal was a success. Erwin had prepared his argument carefullyâa brief but compelling case for why the Survey Corps should take custody of Eren. But in the end, it was Levi's brutal demonstration that had done the real talking. The theatrical beating had been harsh to watch, but effective.
It had worked. Premier Zachary had ruled in Erwin's favor, granting him custody of Eren Yeager under the Survey Corps' supervision. It was a victory, though one that came with enormous responsibility.
After the trial, the group reconvened in an office down the hall before making the trip back to Scout headquarters. The tension from the courtroom had followed them, settling over the group like a heavy cloak. Though the reveal of Grace's identity to Eren had certainly shifted the mood somewhat.
She had a way of doing thatâmaking everything feel lighter, even in the darkest moments.
Erwin had felt relieved to see her up in the gallery earlier. She looked considerably better than she had in the infirmary, with more color in her face and moving without obvious pain. Despite everythingâthe illness sheâd fought through, the injuries, the chaos of the past weekâGrace still offered him a small smile when their eyes met.
Now, with her relationship to Erwin revealed, she seemed almost coy about it, as if bracing for judgment. Erwin wasn't offendedâhe didn't blame her for keeping it quiet. He'd seen how others treated her, the whispers and assumptions that followed her everywhere. He understood all too well why she'd want to be seen as just another soldier.Â
He was pleased to see nothing but respect and curiosity in Eren's eyes as the boy looked between them.
"We'll return to headquarters now,â Erwin announced, shifting back to business. âThen Levi's squad will then depart to train Eren at the former headquarters within Wall Rose. The rest of us will prepare for the upcoming cadet choosing ceremony."
He paused, his expression softening slightly. "I'd like a moment alone with my sister. We'll meet you at the carriages shortly.â
Miche nodded and filed out first, followed by Hange who instantly began peppering Eren with questions. The boy looked overwhelmed as he followed them into the corridor.
Levi lingered a moment longer, his gray eyes settling on Grace with an intensity that didn't escape Erwin's notice. There was something unspoken in that lookâconcern, perhaps, or reliefâbefore the captain turned and followed the others out.
Then Erwin and Grace were alone.
The door had barely closed before Grace rushed over to him, wrapping her arms around him in an embrace. Erwin returned the hug gently, mindful of her lingering injuries, adjusting his hold so as not to press against her ribs. They stood like that for a long moment, and Erwin found himself grateful for the contact in a way he hadn't expected.
He rested his chin on top of her head, allowing himself this moment.
Everyone else gave him distanceâeither out of respect for his rank or fear of his power. They looked at him and saw the cold, calculated Commander of the Survey Corps, the man who sent soldiers to their deaths. But to Grace, he was just her brother. She didn't see the monster beneath, the man willing to sacrifice anything and anyone for his goal.
He was glad for that. He couldn't bear to reveal the truth to herâwhat he really was, what he was capable of.
"It's good to see you," Erwin said quietly. "I'm sorry I didn'tâ"
"It's okay," Grace cut in, pulling back just enough to look up at him. "There's been a lot happening. I understand."
"No, it's not okay," he said firmly. "But I appreciate your understanding.â He briefly kissed the top of her head before stepping back.
As they parted, concern crossed Grace's features. âErwin, I've been thinking. If Eren can transform into a TitanâŚcould that mean the Colossal and Armored Titans are human too? With similar powers?"
Erwin studied her for a moment, impressed but not surprised. Grace had always been perceptive. "I agree. Which means we need to be careful from this point forward. Very careful."
He crossed his arms, his voice dropping lower. "The only people who can be fully trusted are our veterans. Anyone who joined after could be a suspect."
The weight of that settled over Grace, but she nodded in understanding.
"We should go meet the others," Erwin said, moving toward the door. "We have a long ride back." He paused with his hand on the handle and turned to look at her.
"Grace." His voice softened, and she looked at him questioningly. "What you did was incredible. Standing up to Weilman, fighting so hard to protect Eren...you likely saved all of Wall Rose." He held her gaze. "I'm proud of you."
Grace's eyes grew bright with emotion. She nodded, her voice catching slightly. "Thank you."
Erwin opened the door, then paused as he remembered something. "Though I'm afraid I do have to give you a month of stable duty."
"What?" Grace's voice rose with indignation. "Are you serious?"
Erwin couldn't help the smirk that tugged at his lips as they stepped into the hallway. "Quite serious, I'm afraid."
Levi and Eren were waiting just down the corridor, leaning against the wall. Levi's eyes flicked between them, clearly having heard at least part of the exchange.
"What now?" Levi drawled as they approached.
"Nothing. Just a month of stable duty," Grace muttered, her arms crossing over her chest.
"Better save the horse shit and have it delivered to Weilman's doorstep," Levi said flatly.
Eren snorted, then looked horrified at his own reaction, his hand flying up to cover his mouth.
Grace laughedâa genuine sound that brightened her whole face. Erwin hadn't realized how much he'd missed seeing her smile like that, not from politeness or duty, but from actual happiness. He caught Levi's eye for a brief moment and saw the same observation reflected there.
"Come now," Erwin said, though his tone held a hint of amusement. "Let's have some manners in front of our new recruit."
He glanced down the hallway. "Where did our Section Commanders disappear to?"
"Four-eyes practically shoved their head in the brat's mouth when they discovered his tooth grew back," Levi said dryly. "I sent them away before they got themselves eaten. The giant went to supervise."
Eren's face flushed. "I'm not going to eat anybody," he mumbled under his breath.
They began walking toward the exit, their footsteps echoing through the empty corridor. The afternoon sun streamed through the tall windows, casting long shadows across the polished floors of Mitras.
Erwin glanced at the faces around him. Grace was offering Eren quiet words of encouragement. Levi remained stoic as ever, but there was a subtle protectiveness in the way he positioned himself near Grace. Eren looked bruised and bewildered but filled with determination.
They had won today. A small victory in a much larger war, but a victory nonetheless.
Sunlight slowly crept through the window, warming your face. As consciousness surfaced, you registered the cocoon of warmth enveloping your body. A light sheen of sweat had formed on your skin where you were pressed between two solid bodies. For a moment, you kept your eyes closed, clinging to the comfort of sleep. But reality was insistent, dragging you fully awake with the steady throb of your injured hand and the mortifying clarity of last night's breakdown.
You were pressed between them, you realized as you gazed up at the ceiling. Atsumu's arm draped loosely over your waist, his breath ghosting against your neck, and Sakusa's back a steady presence against your side, close enough that you could feel each rise and fall of his breathing.Â
The vulnerability of it all made your throat tight, but there was something deeper. Something that sent liquid fire pooling low in your belly. The intimacy of being pressed between them like this, of feeling every shift and breath, the weight of Atsumu's arm anchoring you in place. Your skin prickled at the thought, hyperaware of every point of contact, of how thin the barriers between you really were. It felt dangerously good, waking up like this, wanted and held and safe in a way that made your heart race for entirely different reasons.Â
You couldn't deny the truth.
This wasn't the first time you'd imagined this.
Suddenly Sakusa shifted. You held your breath, as though he could somehow read your inappropriate thoughts. You had no idea how you'd all ended up tangled together like this. The last thing you remembered was waiting for the train to arrive. You must have dozed off on the journey home.
As he continued to wake, you stayed completely still, unsure how he would react to finding you lying beside his boyfriendâwith said boyfriend practically draped over you.
He finally sat up, back still to you, and stretched his arms overhead. Your traitorous eyes traced the strip of bare skin that appeared as the hem of his shirt rode up, revealing the subtle flex of muscle along his spine. Your stomach dropped as he turned, his eyes widening at the sight of you and Atsumu still in bed.
The two of you stayed completely still, studying each other in the dim morning light. Sakusa was hard to read on the best of days, and his expression now seemed guarded. You braced yourselfâexpecting anger, maybe hurt or betrayal. But his face was soft, lacking the signature scowl he displayed at even minor annoyances.
That had to be a good sign, right?
You opened your mouth, ready to spout profuse apologies. Not only for ending up in bed with them, but for the night before. Not for your reactionâafter talking with Suna, you'd realized that was justifiedâbut for how you'd handled everything after. For shutting Sakusa out when he'd only been trying to help. For making him worry, for causing a scene, for being yet another burden he had to deal with while already feeling terrible.
But he spoke before you had the chance.
"Stay and rest," he said quietly. His voice rough with sleep and lingering sickness, but there was no anger in his tone. Just sincerity.
You watched him pad out of the room, his footsteps careful. The soft click of the door closing behind him released something tight in your chest.
Exhaustion won out over anxiety, and you let yourself drift back under, Atsumu's arm still warm around your waist.
When you stirred again, mid-morning light streamed through the curtains. It was brighter now, more insistent than the soft glow from earlier. Atsumu was still asleep beside you, his face relaxed, golden hair tussled against the pillow. He looked younger like thisâsofter around the edges, stripped of his brash confidence and sharp grin. It was disorienting, seeing traces of the boy you'd known so well.
You could still picture those mornings at his mother's house. You and the twins sprawled across the floor after late night study sessions that had devolved into laughter and games, Atsumu and Osamu still passed out when you woke.
Something bittersweet washed over you at the memory.
Your fingers moved before you could think better of it, reaching out to brush back some hair that had fallen across Atsumuâs forehead. His hair was softer than it had any right to be. You'd bleached it yourself recently, and had expected it to feel brittle and damaged. Instead it slipped like silk through your fingers. You hadn't let yourself linger thenâhadn't dared, in the harsh light of day with him watching you in the mirror. But now you found yourself unable to pull away.
His eyes fluttered open at the contact, amber irises immediately focusing on you with surprising clarity. There was no grogginess, no confusion. Just instant awareness, as though some part of him had been waiting for you to wake.
"Hey," he murmured.
"Hey," you whispered back, conscious of how close you were, of your hand still hovering near his face.
He shifted onto his side to face you properly, bringing him even closer. The sheets rustled softly between you, catching on the fabric of your shirt. Atsumuâs expression was gentle, his eyes roaming your face. His gaze then dropped to your outstretched hand, wrapped in clean white bandages that stood out starkly against the rumpled bedding.
"How's yer hand?"
You paused, flexing your fingers. A dull ache radiated through your palm, bearable compared to last nightâs pain. "Sore, but better,â you answered.
"Good." He nodded, but didn't look away, didn't move back to give you space. "That's good."
Silence stretched between you, comfortable in its familiarity yet weighted with everything unspoken. Last night's breakdown. This morning's tangle of limbs. The years of history between you and the new, complicated present you were trying to navigate.
His hand rested on the mattress between you. You wondered if he was thinking about reaching for you the same way you were thinking about reaching for him.
The intimacy felt fragile, like speaking too loud might shatter it the way you'd shattered that wine glass.
But Atsumu had never been good at leaving things unspoken. âDo ya wanna talk about it?" he asked carefully. "What happened?"
The question hung in the air. You'd told Suna, and Sakusa had overheard, but Atsumu deserved knowâdeserved to hear it from you. He'd dropped everything and run across the city for you.
So you told him. About your ex-boyfriend, about becoming a stranger in your own skin, about the violence that had finally pushed you to leave. About needing somewhere safe to stay and being too proud, or too scared, to explain why. About how seeing Sakusa looming in the kitchen had dragged you back to that nightâhow your body had reacted before your mind could catch up, and you'd hurt yourself trying to escape a danger that wasn't really there.
Atsumu listened without interruption, but you watched his jaw tighten, watched his free hand clench into a fist against the sheets. He didn't say anything, but you could see every emotion playing out across his face.
After you finished, the room fell quiet.
âTsumu, please,â you whispered, unable to bear the silence any longer.
He exhaled slowly, deliberately. "Look, I....â He paused, seeming to wrestle with himself. "I don't want you to think I'm makin' this about me, but I gotta say it. It's takinâ every ounce of self-control I have not to hunt that asshole down.â
"Atsumuâ"
"I know," he said, cutting you off gently. "I know that's not what you need from me. But goddammitâ" He broke off, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes like he was fighting off a headache. When he looked at you again, there was something heartbroken in his expression. "You came to me. And I justâI should've known. I should've asked what was really going on. Should'veâ"
"Stop." You reached out, taking his hand in yours. "You gave me exactly what I needed. A place where I didn't have to explain. Where I could just...exist."
âYa shouldnât have had to hide all that. Shouldn't have been dealin' with all that alone.â
âI wasn't alone,â you replied softly. "I was here. With you. And Kiyoomi.â
Something unreadable flickered across Atsumu's face. His eyes went distant, like your words had reached somewhere deep inside him and he'd gotten stuck there, processing.
"You were both there for me. Even when you didn't know it," you continued. "That meant everything."
When his gaze found yours again, you saw understanding settle inârecognition of how all that time together had shifted something. The dinners where conversation flowed easily. The late nights on the couch, someone always within reach. The comfortable silences that wrapped around you like a blanket. The way the three of you had fallen into an easy rhythm together, one that was as natural as breathing.
For a moment you thought he might say something, his lips parting slightly. But instead he shifted closer, moving slowly like he was afraid you might startle.
"Can I hold ya?" he asked quietly.
You nodded, and he gathered you against his chest with a tenderness that made your eyes burn. His heartbeat was fast beneath your ear, betraying the composure he was trying to maintain.
You couldnât hold it back anymore. The tears came suddenly, shaking your shoulders as you pressed your face into his shirt. All of your suppressed emotionsâthe fear, the relief, the guilt, the griefâcame pouring out in gasping, ugly sobs.
"I've got ya," Atsumu murmured, one hand slowly caressing your back. "Youâre okay. Youâre safe now." His voice was steady even as you felt his shirt growing damp beneath your cheek. "I'm sorry. Fuck, I'm so sorry this happened to you.â
He held you through it, anchoring you with his presence, his warmth, the gentle pressure of his hand running along your spine.
You donât know how long it took, but eventually the tears subsided into sniffles. Atsumu pulled back just enough to look at your face, and the tenderness in his expression nearly undid you again. His thumbs came up to brush away the remaining moisture on your cheeks.
"I'm gonna say this once," he murmured, "and then we don't have to talk about it again unless you want to. But you need to hear it."Â
You froze, having no idea what was coming next.
âWhat he put you throughâyou should have never had to go through that. You deserve so much better. You deserve to be treated right. And I can't promise I'll always know the right thing to say, but I can promise I'm here. However you need me to be.â
You couldn't speak past the lump in your throat, so you just nodded.
His arms tightened around you. "Youâre safe here," he said softly. "Youâre always gonna be safe here."
The words should have been comforting. In some ways they were exactly what you needed to hear. But they also cracked something open inside you, something you'd been keeping carefully sealed, and fresh tears spilled over before you could stop them.
Because you knew you couldn't stay here anymore.
A knock on the door kept you from dwelling on the realization any further.
Atsumu's brow furrowed as he watched you wipe your tears, concern flickering across his face. He opened his mouth, clearly about to ask.
Another knock, softer this time.
âYeah?â Atsumu called out.
"Breakfast is ready," Sakusa's voice announced from the other side of the door.
Atsumu held you a moment longer, then pressed a kiss to the top of your head. "C'mon," he murmured against your hair. "Let's get some food in ya."
You were grateful for the interruption. It bought you a few more moments before you'd have to face the reality of what you needed to do next.
The kitchen smelled warm and familiar, similar to what you'd been preparing last night. Had it really only been last night? It felt like a lifetime ago. Like you'd been a different person entirely when you'd stood in this same kitchen, chopping vegetables and pretending everything was fine.
As you sat down between them, Sakusa handed you a bowl. His fingers brushed yours as you took it, lingering a moment longer than necessary.
You couldn't ignore it anymore.
You had feelings for both of them.
They had crept up on you gradually, disguised as gratitude and friendship until it was impossible to deny. With Atsumu, your feelings had rootsâyears of shared history that made everything between you feel familiar and right. It was the way he made everything feel lighter, how his energy was infectious and his teasing always knew exactly when to shift into genuine care. He'd coaxed you out of your shell without you even realizing it, made you laugh when you'd forgotten how, reminded you what it felt like to be seen as something other than an inconvenience.
With Sakusa, it was different but equally consuming. Your friendship with him was newer, built over weeks rather than years, but that hadn't made it any less significant. The quiet steadiness of his presence, the way he showed care through actions rather than words. How he'd created space for you in his carefully ordered world, adjusted his routines to accommodate yours. The way he looked at you sometimes when he thought you weren't paying attention, like he was trying to solve a math problem he couldn't quite figure out.
They filled different needs you hadn't realized were there. Atsumu's warmth and Sakusa's calm. Atsumu's boldness and Sakusa's thoughtfulness. Together they felt complete in a way that terrified you.
But they were perfect for each other. You'd seen it from the beginningâthe way they moved around each other seamlessly, communicated in glances and touches, their love for each other obvious even through their bickering.
They were a team. They'd built something beautiful together, and you had no right to complicate it with your messy feelings and broken pieces.
"Is everything okay?" Sakusa asked.
Lost in your thoughts, you hadn't realized you were just staring off into space, your breakfast untouched.
"Yeah, I'm fineâŚ" you started automatically, then trailed off as both of them looked at you with skepticism. "Actually, there's something I need to say."
Atsumu paused, lowering the bowl of rice he'd been shoveling into his mouth. A single grain was stuck to his cheek.
You turned to Sakusa first, forcing yourself to meet his eyes. "I'm sorry about last night. I shouldn't haveâI didn't mean to make things awkward."
"You have nothing to apologize for," Sakusa said firmly, his gaze steady. "I'm the one who should have handled that better. I shouldn't have snapped at you.â
The sincerity of his words made your chest ache. You nodded, but couldn't quite bring yourself to say what you needed to say yet. Atsumu was still watching you though, his brow furrowed.
"Is that all?" he asked carefully. "You still seem upset."
There was no easy way to do this. No way to make it hurt less. Better to just rip the bandaid off.
"I think it's time I found somewhere else to stay," you said quietly.
The silence that followed was deafening.
"What?" Atsumu's chopsticks clattered against his bowl. "Why?"
"I justâI think it's time. You've both been incredibly kind, but I can't impose forever."
"Yer not imposin'," Atsumu insisted. "We've told you a hundred timesâ"
"Is this because of last night?" Sakusa's voice cut in, his dark eyes searching your face for the truth.
You shook your head adamantly. "No, I promise it's not because of that."Â
"Well, what is it then?" There was frustration behind Atsumuâs words, but underneath it you could hear something elseâsomething that sounded almost like fear.
Atsumu," Sakusa said, his tone a gentle reprimandâa quiet request for him to give you space, to be patient.
You drew in a shaky breath, trying to find the right words. How could you possibly explain this without revealing too much?
"I just...I don't belong here. I'm interfering with your lives. It's time I figured out my own."Â
Even to you it sounded like a weak excuse.
Atsumu leaned forward, elbows on the table, that grain of rice still clinging to his cheek. "What changed?" he asked. His eyes were locked on yours, refusing to let you hide.
The question hung in the air, unavoidable. Because he was rightâsomething had changed. Or maybe it had always been this way, and you'd just stopped being able to lie to yourself about it.
"It's just...it's not appropriate anymore," you said finally, the words coming out smaller than you intended.
Atsumu's brow furrowed. "Not appropriate? What's that supposed to mean?"
"Atsumu, pleaseâ"
"No, seriously. I don't understand." He pressed on. "Did we do somethin' wrong? Say somethin'?"
"No! No, it's not you. Either of you. It's me."
"That's not an answer," Sakusa said quietly, soft but unwavering.
You could feel your face heating up, your heart hammering against your ribs. Why couldn't they just let this go? Why did they have to push?
"Please," you tried again, desperation creeping into your voice. "Can we justâcan you just trust me on this?"
"We do trust ya," Atsumu said, and there was something almost hurt in his expression. "But yer clearly upset, and yer talkin' about leavin', and ya won't tell us why. How're we supposed to just accept that?"
"Because it's complicated!"
"Then explain it to us," Atsumu pleaded. "Whatever it is, we can work it out. You don't have to leave."
You felt like the walls of the room were closing in. Every word they spoke made it harder to breathe, made the truth claw its way up your throat until you couldn't swallow it back down anymore.
"Because I have feelings for you!" The words burst out of you, too loud in the quiet apartment. "For both of you. And I can'tâI can't stay here feeling like this. It's not fair to you, and it's killing me. So please, just let me go."
Silence crashed down around you.
Atsumu's mouth fell open, his eyes wide. He started to speak, then stopped. The cycle repeated again as he struggled to find words for the first time since you'd known him.
Sakusa had gone very still, his expression unreadable. But you caught the flicker of shock on his face, the way his fingers tightened around his chopsticks.
"I'm sorry," you murmured. "I justâI need some space to figure things out. I never meant for any of this to happen."
More silence. You couldn't look at either of them anymore, couldn't bear to see the discomfort or pity or whatever else might be written on their faces.
"Where will you go?" Sakusa asked finally.
You looked down at the table, at your untouched breakfast that Sakusa had so thoughtfully prepared for you. "I'll go back home. See if I can stay with my parents for a bit."
You were already dreading that conversation. The questions, the judgment, the inevitable explanation of your failed relationship. But it felt like the only option now.
"Don't do that," Atsumu said immediately.
"Atsumuâ"
"Stay with Kita."
You almost laughed despite everything. "I'm sure he appreciates you volunteering his place without any notice."
"He won't mind. I'll call him right now."
âTsumu, you can't justâ"
"Tell me truthfully," he interrupted, his eyes locked on yours with an intensity that pinned you in place. "Would you rather stay with yer parents? Or with Kita?"
You thought about it. About your mother's disappointment, your father's awkward attempts to pretend everything was fine. About the childhood bedroom that had never quite felt like yours, the house where you'd always felt like you were taking up too much space.
"Kita," you answered after a moment, the admission feeling like a small surrender.
"Then let me do this for ya." Atsumu stood, his chair scraping against the floor. His expression had shifted into something determined, almost protective. "Just...give me a minute."
He disappeared down the hallway toward his bedroom before you could protest further, leaving you alone with Sakusa and the weight of everything you'd just confessed.
You still couldn't bring yourself to look at him.
The silence was suffocating. Sakusa could hear Atsumu's muffled voice from the bedroom, talking to Kita on the phone. Could hear the nervous shift of your weight in the chair beside him. Could feel the careful way you were avoiding his gaze, as though looking at him might shatter what little composure you had left.
He should say something. Anything. But his mind had gone blank the moment those words left your mouth.
I have feelings for you. For both of you.
His fingers were still wrapped around his chopsticks, gripping them so tightly his knuckles had gone white. He forced himself to loosen his hold, to set them down carefully. To breathe.
This shouldn't have been a surprise. He'd seen the signs, hadn't he? The way you looked at Atsumu sometimes, something soft and yearning in your expression. The way you'd started seeking out Sakusa's presence, settling beside him on the couch during movie nights, your shoulder pressing against his. The flush that bloomed on your cheeks when either of them got close.
He'd told himself he was imagining it. That it was just the natural closeness that came from living together. That the strange flutter in his chest when you smiled at him was nothing more than friendship.
But he'd been lying to himself.
Because somewhere between watching you move through their home you belonged there, between the quiet mornings and the comfortable silences, he'd developed feelings too. Ones he'd been carefully ignoring, pushing down, pretending didn't exist.
And now you were leaving.
"I'm sorry," you whispered again, and the brokenness in your voice physically pained him. "I shouldn't have said anything. I've made everything worse."
"No." The word came out rougher than he intended, and you finally looked at him, eyes glassy with unshed tears. Sakusa swallowed, searching for the right words. "You didn't make anything worse. I justâI need a moment to process."
That was an understatement. His mind was racing, trying to sort through the tangle of emotions your confession had unleashed. Relief that he wasn't alone in feeling this way. Guilt because you were in pain and he didn't know how to fix it. Confusion because this was supposed to be simpleâhe loved Atsumu, Atsumu loved him, and that was enough.
Except somewhere along the way, Sakusa started wanting more. Their perfectly balanced duo had shifted into something else, and Sakusa hadn't even realized it was happening.
Kita says you can stay as long as you need," Atsumu announced as he returned to the kitchen, phone still in hand. Sakusa could tell his cheery tone was forced. "He can pick you up today if you want."
"Today?" The word escaped before Sakusa could stop it, sharper than he intended.
Atsumu's eyes cut to him, then back to you. "Well, yeah. I mean, unlessâ" He paused, seeming to think better of whatever he'd been about to say. "Unless you need more time to pack or whatever."
"No, today is fine. I don't have much to pack anyway," you said, pushing back from the table. Sakusa watched you disappear down the hallway, heard the soft click of your door closing, and felt something twist painfully in his chest.
Atsumu busied himself in the kitchen, cleaning up the breakfast that had barely been touched. Sakusa stood in the hallway, feeling completely unmoored.
"You okay?" Atsumu appeared beside him, dish towel in hand.
Sakusa wanted to say yes. Wanted to give his boyfriend some sort of reassurance. But the lie wouldn't come.
"No," he admitted quietly. "Are you?"
Atsumu's gaze was fixed on your door. "No. I don't want her to go."
Sakusa looked at Atsumu then, really looked at him, and he could see how much the past twelve hours had weighed on his boyfriend. The tight set of his jaw, the shadows under his eyes, the way his usual brightness had dimmed.
Because it had weighed on Sakusa too. Every moment since you'd fled to the bathroom replayed in his mindâhis sharp tone, the fear in your eyes, the way you'd hurt yourself trying to get away from him. He felt awful, truly terrible for the pain he had caused you.
He had no right to insist you stay. But god, he wished you would.
An hour later you emerged from the guest room with your suitcase and backpack, everything you owned condensed back into those two bags. Sakusa now understood why you had never retrieved more of your belongings.
It wasn't long after that until there was a knock on the door. Sakusa had met Kita a handful of times during trips to Hyogo with Atsumu. The man's expression was as calm and unreadable as ever, but Sakusa caught the way his eyes sharpened as he took in the sceneâyour bandaged hand, the careful way you held yourself, the tension that filled the apartment.
"Ready?" Kita asked simply.
You nodded, not quite meeting anyone's eyes. "Yeah. Thank you again for this."
"It's no trouble." Kita reached for your suitcase, and this time you let him take it. He glanced at Atsumu and Sakusa. "I'll take good care of her."
"We know," Atsumu said, his voice tight.
You paused in the doorway, turned back to look at them. "Thank you," you said quietly. "For everything. I'm sorry forâ"
"Don't," Atsumu interrupted. "You don't have anything to apologize for."
Sakusa was a professional volleyball player, attuned to even the slightest shifts in movement and body language. So he didn't miss the way you swayed forward, your body betraying the impulse to close the distance between you. To hug them goodbye, maybe. To hold on just a little longer. But you caught yourself, your weight settling back, your throat working as you swallowed hard.
"Take care of yourselves," you said instead, the words coming out rough.
Then you were turning away, following Kita down the hallway, and Sakusa felt something crack in his chest as he watched you go.
The apartment felt wrong without you in it.
Sakusa noticed it immediatelyâthe absence of your shoes by the door, the missing toothbrush in the bathroom, the way the guest room door stood open to reveal a neatly made bed with no trace of you left behind. Even the air felt different, like you'd taken some essential warmth with you when you left.
When Sakusa was stressed, he cleaned. He moved through his usual routine on autopilot, but it didn't bring him the usual sense of order and control. Instead, it just made the emptiness more pronounced.
Atsumu was sprawled on the couch when Sakusa emerged from the guest room, controller in hand but not actually playing anything.
"I put fresh sheets on the bed," Sakusa said, for lack of anything better to say.
"Okay." Atsumu didn't look at him.
Sakusa hesitated, then sat down beside him.
"She'll be okay with Kita," Sakusa said after a long moment. "He'll take care of her."
"I know."
Silence stretched between them, weighted with things unsaid.
"Do ya want to talk about it?" Atsumu asked finally.
"About what?" Sakusa deflected.
"Omi."
Sakusa let out a long breath, letting his head fall back against the couch. "I don't know what to say. I don't know what I'm supposed to be feeling right now."
"Are you okay?" Atsumu's voice had gone soft, careful.
Sakusa turned his head to look at his boyfriend. Even after years together, Atsumu's beauty still caught him off guard sometimes. The sharp angles of his face were softened by concern, his golden eyes searching Sakusa's face for answers he wasn't sure he could give. He could see the worry there, the fear that maybe this had broken something between them that couldn't be fixed.
"I'm okay," Sakusa answered, reaching out to take Atsumu's hand. "We're okay."
Relief flashed across Atsumu's face. He shifted closer, his head coming to rest on Sakusa's shoulder. Sakusa closed his eyes, letting the warmth ground him.
"Come on," Atsumu murmured after a while, his hand sliding to Sakusa's thigh. "Let's go to bed."
There was an invitation in his voice, in the way his fingers traced up and down Sakusa's leg. A request for distraction, for the familiar comfort of each other's bodies. A way to forget, at least for a little while, the confession that had upended everything.
Sakusa should probably say no. Should probably suggest they talk more first, process what had happened. But he didn't want to talk. Didn't want to think. He wanted to lose himself in something that felt normal and right and uncomplicated.
He took Atsumu's hand and led him toward the bedroom.
They moved together with practiced ease, a choreography perfected over years. Atsumu's hands on his skin, his mouth hot and insistentâthe familiar weight of him, the sounds he made, the way he knew exactly how to take Sakusa apart and put him back together. It had been a while since they'd been this freely intimate, not having to worry about how loud they were being.
But something was different.
Sakusa kept his eyes closed, losing himself in sensation. He let Atsumu move above him, let the pleasure build and crest. But when he came, gasping against Atsumu's shoulder, it wasn't just Atsumu's name that threatened to spill from his lips.
It was yours too.
The realization struck him like a punch to the chest. His body still trembled with aftershocks, Atsumu's weight warm and solid against him, but his mind had caught on that dangerous truth.
He wanted you here. Not just watchingâbetween them. Sakusaâs mouth on yours, his hands on your skin, while Atsumu held you steady.Â
The fantasy continued vividlyâyour body arching into his touch, a broken sigh escaping your lips, while Atsumu looked up at him with shared hunger.
The wave of guilt that followed nearly choked him.
"Omi? Earth to Omi." Atsumu's fingers traced a lazy path down Sakusa's damp chest. "You went quiet on me. That good, huh?"
Sakusa kept his eyes fixed on the ceiling. "Yeah,â he murmured.
But that wasnât why he had gone quiet.
He had feelings for youâreal feelings. The kind that made him think about you during sex with his boyfriend. The kind that made your absence feel like a physical ache. The kind that made him want things he had no right to want.
Atsumu shifted beside him, and Sakusa tensed, wondering he could read his thoughts. But Atsumu just pressed a kiss to his shoulder and padded off to the bathroom.
Alone, Sakusa's heart hammered against his ribs in a frantic, a panicked rhythm that had nothing to do with his fading orgasm. The thoughts continued to plague himânow that they'd started, he couldn't stop them. Atsumu's hands roving across your hips, holding you steady for his greedy mouth. You arching, gasping, coming apart between them.
"What's going on in that head of yours?"
Sakusa hadn't even realized Atsumu had returned. He was leaning in the doorway, his naked form silhouetted against the hallway light, watching with an expression that was equal parts curiosity and concern.
Even now, even in the middle of this crisis, Sakusa couldn't help but notice how beautiful Atsumu was. The light caught on the defined muscles of his shoulders and chest, earned from years of volleyball. His waist tapered down to lean hips, and his thighsâstrong from endless jumps and lungesâbore faint tan lines. His blond hair was mussed from Sakusa's fingers, sticking up at odd angles that somehow only made him more attractive.
Sakusa was so incredibly lucky to have him. This infuriatingly confident, sometimes obnoxious man who loved him despite all his idiosyncrasies. Who had pushed past every wall Sakusa had built and made a home inside his carefully guarded heart.
Atsumu should be enough. More than enough. He was everything Sakusa had ever wantedâtalented, passionate, attractive. He understood Sakusa's needs without being told, knew when to push and when to give him space. Their relationship was good. Great, even.
So why did he feel this way about you?
What was it about you that made him want things he'd never considered before? How had you managed to carve out space in a heart he'd thought was full?
Sakusa pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, trying to hold back the wave of emotion threatening to break through. His chest felt constricted, like he couldn't get enough air. The guilt, the want, the fearâit was all colliding inside him.
His breath hitched.
"Omiâ" Atsumu's voice shifted, alarm sharpening the edges.
The mattress dipped as Atsumu rushed back to the bed. "Omi, what is it? Talk to me." His fingers slid into Sakusa's tangled waves, gentle and soothing. "You're scarin' me. What's wrong?"
Sakusa's throat tightened. He didn't want to voice it. Didn't want to confess that he'd thought of someone else while Atsumu had been inside him. That felt like the worst kind of betrayal, the kind that would ruin what they'd built together.
But he couldn't lie to his partner. Atsumu deserved better than that.
Sakusa lowered his hands, forcing himself to meet Atsumu's gaze. Those warm brown eyes were filled with worry now, searching his face for answers.
Your name spilled from his mouth, barely more than a whisper. A raw confession. "I was thinking about her. HereâŚwith us."
For a moment, Atsumu went completely still. His hand froze in Sakusa's hair.
His eyes widened as the meaning sank in. Something shifted in his expressionânot anger, not disgust, but something Sakusa couldn't quite name.
"With us," Atsumu repeated slowly. "You meanâŚ"
"I know." Sakusa's voice cracked. "I know it's wrong. I didnâtâŚI just...â He squeezed his eyes shut again, shame burning through him. "I'm sorry."
Silence stretched between them. Atsumu's hand slipped from his hair, and Sakusa felt the loss like a physical blow. He kept his eyes closed, unable to watch whatever was happening on Atsumu's face. Unable to watch his boyfriend's expression turn to anger, to betrayal, toâ
"Can I be honest?"
Sakusa's eyes snapped open. Atsumu was staring past him toward the wall, his jaw tight. He looked nervousâuncertain in a way Atsumu rarely allowed himself to be.
"Please," Sakusa croaked, his heart hammering wildly.
Atsumu's gaze flickered back to him, vulnerable and searching. "IâŚ" He exhaled shakily. "I've had those thoughts too."
Sakusa inhaled sharply.
He couldn't believe it. The relief that flooded through him was so intense it left him dizzy.
And strangely enough, Atsumu's admission didn't upset him. There was no spike of jealousy, no bitter sting of betrayal. Just a cautious hope, beginning to bloom.
The irony wasn't lost on him. Weeks ago, when Atsumu had first suggested you stay with them, Sakusa had been furious. Threatened. Convinced that having you in their space would ruin everything. And now here they wereâboth of them wanting you in a way that went far beyond friendship.
How had this happened? When had you become this for both of them?
Atsumu shifted, drawing his knees up slightly, eyes never leaving Sakusa's face. Bracing himself. Working up to something.
"Do youâŚ" Atsumu's voice was rough, almost hesitant. "Do you want to tell me about what you were thinking?"
The question hung in the air between them.
Sakusa's mouth went dry. His pulse thrummed in his throat.
That's when he noticed itâAtsumu was hard again. Half hard at least, his cock stirring against his thigh as he waited for Sakusa's answer. The realization sent a jolt of heat through Sakusa's body, chasing away some of the shame that had been suffocating him.
They were both completely bare. Skin to skin, nothing hidden. The vulnerability of itâhaving this conversation naked, still sticky with sweat and each otherâmade everything feel more raw, more real. There was nowhere to hide, no way to pretend this wasn't affecting them both.
Sakusa swallowed hard, his gaze dropping to where Atsumu's body was betraying his interest. "You'reâ"
"Yeah," Atsumu breathed, not bothering to deny it. His cheeks flushed, but he didn't look away. "I am. Been thinkin' about her for weeks now, and hearin' you say it..." He dragged a hand through his hair, mussing the blond strands. "Fuck, Omi. I thought I was losin' my mind. Thought there was somethin' wrong with me."
"If there is, then we're both broken,â Sakusa replied quietly.
Atsumu's lips quirked in something that wasn't quite a smile. "Maybe we are." He shifted closer, his knee brushing Sakusa's thigh. "So tell me. What were you thinkin' about?"
Sakusa's breath stuttered. Could he really do this? Put the fantasy into words, make it tangible between them?
But Atsumu was looking at him with such open want that Sakusa found himself speaking before he could stop himself.
"I thought about her between us," he admitted, his voice low and rough. "Your mouth on hers while I held her. Watching you take her apart the way you do with me. Feeling her shake when she came."
Atsumu's breath hitched audibly. His pupils were blown wide now, nearly swallowing the warm brown of his irises.
"And I wanted..." Sakusa continued, the words spilling out now that he'd started. "I wanted to watch you with her. Wanted to see you make her feel good. Wanted to touch her while you did."
âFuck, Omi," Atsumu whispered, his hand finding Sakusa's hip, gripping tight.
The air between them felt charged, electric. They were laying it all bare nowânot just their bodies, but their desires, their secrets, the truth they'd both been too afraid to speak.
âI was thinking about what sheâd feel like,â Sakusa continued, the images pouring out of him now, a torrent he couldnât stop. âHow sheâd sound. What it would be like to have you and her atâŚat the same time.â
Atsumu was on him then, his mouth crashing down on Sakusa's, swallowing his groan. It was a kiss devoid of its usual practiced ease; it was all teeth and desperation, a frantic claiming. Atsumu's hand slid down to Sakusa's cock, stroking him with purpose, his own arousal already hard and pressing against Sakusa's thigh.
"We're not done," Atsumu rasped against his lips. "I want to hear it all. I want to feel you thinking about it."
He didn't need to be asked twice. The confession had unleashed something primal in both of them. Atsumu's mouth was hot on his neck, his shoulders, his chest, biting and sucking marks into skin that would be hidden by his jersey tomorrow. Sakusa arched into it, his own hands fisting in Atsumu's hair, holding him close.
Atsumu moved down his body, his intentions clear, but Sakusa stopped him with a hand on his cheek. âNo,â he breathed, his voice wrecked. âNot like that. Turn over.â
Atsumuâs eyes flashed with surprise, then pure, undiluted heat. He obeyed without a word, moving with an athleteâs grace to present himself, back arched. It was an offering, and Sakusa accepted it greedily.
He slicked his fingers, his own hands trembling with a need that felt like madness. He didnât prepare Atsumu with his usual meticulous care. It was fast, almost rough, two fingers pressing in, stretching. Atsumu groaned, a deep, guttural sound into the mattress, pushing back against him.
âNow, Omi. Fuck, now.â
Sakusa didnât wait. He sheathed himself in one smooth, brutal thrust, burying himself to the hilt in the tight, scorching heat of his boyfriend. Atsumu cried out, his body seizing around him, and the sound went straight to Sakusaâs already throbbing cock.
He set a punishing pace, each thrust rocking the bed frame against the wall. His eyes were screwed shut, but he wasnât seeing the darkness behind his lids. He was seeing you.
You were beneath Atsumu, your legs hooked around his waist as he filled you deep. And Sakusa was behind you, pushing into that incredible, tight heat, his body pressed flush against your back, his mouth on the nape of your neck.
Surrounded. Filled. Utterly claimed by both of them.
You'd be crying out, their names spilling from your lips in a broken litany. And they'd both be whispering yoursâpraising you, telling you how good you were for them, how perfectly you took them both.
He imagined the friction of Atsumu's cock rubbing against his while inside of you, the way you'd clench and pulse around them both as they drove you toward the edge together.
âSheâd be so full,â Sakusa grunted, the words punched out of him with every snap of his hips. âSheâd take it all. Sheâs be so good for us.â
âYeah,â Atsumu moaned, his voice muffled and broken as he worked his own cock. âFuck, yeah. For us. For both of us.â
Sakusa leaned forward, catching Atsumu's hand in his and pressing down, matching his rhythm. "Feel it," he rasped, driving deeper. "Imagine it's her."
The fantasy wasnât just in his head anymore. It was in the room, a palpable force driving them both toward the edge.
"Say it," he breathed, fingers tightening over Atsumuâs. "Say you want her here."
Atsumuâs answering groan was a sob of pure need. "I want her here. Fuck, I want herâ"
The admission was the final trigger. Sakusaâs orgasm ripped through him, white hot pleasure searing along every nerve. He cried out, a ragged, broken sound, as he spilled deep inside Atsumu, his body convulsing with the force of it. Beneath him, Atsumu followed, his own release painting the sheets beneath them.
For a long moment, there was only the sound of their labored breathing. Sakusa collapsed forward, his sweat slicked chest pressed against Atsumu's back, his face buried in his shoulder. The fantasy faded, leaving behind the stark reality of what they'd just confessed.
Atsumu shifted slightly, his voice a whisper in the silent room. "OmiâŚwe have to talk about this."
Sakusa nodded against his shoulder, not trusting his voice yet. They separated slowly, the air between them heavy. In the bathroom, as they cleaned up in silence, Atsumu pressed a gentle kiss to Sakusa's shoulder. A promise that they'd figure this out together.
After pulling on clothes, they gravitated toward the living room. Atsumu dropped onto the couch first, and Sakusa sat beside him, close enough that their thighs touched. An echo of earlier, though nothing felt the same anymore.
"What do we do?" Sakusa asked finally. "What does this mean?"
Atsumu's hand found his, fingers threading together and resting on Sakusa's thigh. "I don't know," he admitted. "But I know I don't want to pretend anymore. I don't want to keep acting like she's just our friend when we both feelâŚthis."
Sakusa took a breath, steadying himself. "It's not just sexual," he said quietly. "I have real feelings for her."
The confession hung in the air between them. Sakusa watched Atsumu's expression shift, a complicated tangle of emotions flickering across his face.
"Yes." Sakusa didn't look away, didn't try to soften it or take it back. "I know that's probably not what you want to hear, and if it's a problem we can work through it, orâ"
"It's the same for me," Atsumu interrupted, his voice rough. "It's not justâit's more than that. I have feelings for her too. Real ones."
Sakusa went very still. "What?"
"I have feelings for her, Omi,â Atsumu repeated, meeting his eyes. âI really care about her."
For a long moment, Sakusa just stared at him, processing. "So we bothâ"
"Yeah," Atsumu said softly. âI guess we do."
The silence that followed felt heavy but not uncomfortable. Sakusa squeezed Atsumu's hand, and felt him squeeze backâa familiar anchor in unfamiliar territory.
"When did it start?" Atsumu asked quietly. "For you?"
"I'm not sure," Sakusa admitted. "It was so gradual I didn't realize it was happening. She fit into our life, into our routine. And somewhere along the way, I started wanting more." He looked at Atsumu, at the face he knew by heart. "What about you? When did you start feeling this way?"
Atsumu was quiet for a moment, thumb tracing absent patterns against Sakusa's knuckles. "At first, it felt like old times. Y'know, back when we were just friends.â He paused, choosing his words carefully. "But then...it was like I was fallin' for her all over again." His voice dropped lower. "And when I'd watch the two of you together, and it'd hit me even harder."
âBut you didn't say anything," Sakusa said softly.
"How could I?" Atsumu's voice cracked slightly. "We're together. We're happy. I didn't want toâI couldn't risk messin' that up."
"I didn't say anything either," Sakusa pointed out. "For the same reasons."
They sat with that for a moment, the weight of their parallel silence settling between them.
"I love you," Atsumu said suddenly. He turned to face Sakusa, bringing their joined hands up between them. "That hasn't changed. You know that, right? Whatever I feel for her, it doesn't change what I feel for you."
Sakusa felt something warm settle in his chest. He brought his other hand up to cup Atsumu's jaw, thumb brushing across his cheekbone. "I know." He let his expression soften in the way it only did for Atsumu. "I love you too. Whatever else is happening, that's still true. That will always be true."
"But we both also have feelings for her."
"Yes."
"And she has feelings for both of us."
"Apparently."
Atsumu groaned, leaning forward until his forehead rested against Sakusa's shoulder. "This is such a mess."
Sakusa's hand slid from his jaw to the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair. The familiar touch was a reminder that, whatever else was changing, they still had this. They still had each other.
"So what do we do?" Atsumu asked, his voice muffled against Sakusa's shoulder.
"I don't know." Sakusa's fingers worked small circles against Atsumu's scalp. "This isn't exactly a situation I have experience with."
"Yeah, well, me neither." Atsumu pulled back to look at him. "But we gotta figure it out, right? We can't just ignore it."
"No," Sakusa agreed. "We can't ignore it."
They were quiet for a moment, both turning over the impossible complexity of it all.
"She's been through a lot recently," Sakusa said finally. "With everything that happened, we can't drop this on her right now."
Atsumu nodded "You're right. She needs space to process everything she's already dealing with. We should give her time."
"Time to figure out what she wants," Sakusa agreed. "Without us pressuring her or making things more complicated."
"But eventually..." Atsumu trailed off, the question hanging between them.
"Eventually, we'll need to talk to her," Sakusa finished. "All of us together. But not yet. Not until she's ready."
"Not until she's ready," Atsumu echoed, squeezing Sakusa's hand.
Atsumu was quiet for a moment, then sighed. âIn the mean time, we should probably talk to someone who can help us figure out what the hell we're supposed to do. Someone who has experience with this type of thing."
Sakusa's eyes narrowed, cutting over to his boyfriend. He knew exactly where this was going. "You can't be serious."
"I know, I know." Atsumu acquiesced. "But Bokuto's the only person we know who has actual experience with...this kind of thing."
Sakusa's first instinct was to refuse outright. The thought of explaining his feelings to BokutoâBokuto, who broadcasted every thought that entered his head, who had once accidentally announced Hinata's surprise party to Hinata himselfâmade him want to melt into the floor.
But he also recognized the logic. Bokuto had been in a polyamorous relationship for years now, and while he was loud and exhausting, he was also kind and surprisingly insightful when it mattered. More importantly, he was someone who wouldn't judge them.
"Fine," Sakusa agreed with a heavy sigh. "We'll talk to Bokuto."
The decision settled between them like a promiseâor maybe a leap of faith. Either way, there was no going back now.
"Commander! There's been a breach in the wall! Titans are pouring into Trost!"
The Scout's voice cut across the plain, his horse closing the distance at full gallop. Commander Erwin Smith raised his fist immediately, halting their forces.
Levi's hands tightened on his reins.
Grace was in Trost. She'd been too sick to ride with them on the expedition. Too sick to fight.
And now Titans were pouring into the district where they had left her behind.
Would she be fighting anyway? The question weighed on him. He knew her well enoughâsitting idly by while people died wasn't in her nature. The image of her forcing herself into combat in her weakened state made something sharp twist in his chest.
"What are we stopping for?" Levi asked as he urged his horse alongside Erwin's.
He could feel Miche and Hange's eyes on him, but he couldn't bring himself to care.
"We can't go through the Trost gate," Erwin explained, maintaining his composure. "We need to reroute and determine a plan of attack."
"By the time we do that, the Titans will be having a fucking tea party."
Both Miche and Hange's brows rose at his sharp tone, though neither commented.
"Levi." The edge in Erwin's voice was one he rarely used with him anymore. "I need you focused."
Levi scoffed, the sound bitter. That was rich, coming from him.
"Our options are limited," Erwin continued. âWe can't risk funneling our forces through an active breach."
"We could divert towards Karanes," Miche suggested. "Find a Garrison station along the wall with an elevator system. We could haul the troops over the wall."
"We'd have to leave the horses behind," Hange added, their usual enthusiasm dampened by the gravity of the situation. "The elevator can only handle so much weight. We'd be limited to deploying the elite squads firstâmaybe twenty soldiers maximum in the initial wave.â
Levi's jaw tensed. Twenty soldiers against however many Titans had already invaded the city. It was a shit plan, but then again, all their options were shit.
"It's our best option," Erwin decided. âWe get to Karanes, deploy the elite squads immediately, and secure the district block by block. Speed is essential."
There was nothing more they could do now but get there as fast as possible and hope it was enough. Hope she was still alive when they arrived.
"Move out!" Erwin ordered, spurring his mount forward at a gallop.
Levi fell back into formation with his squad, quickly relaying the plan. Their faces were grim but determinedâthey all knew what a breach in Trost meant.
As his horse thundered across the plains, Levi found himself hoping they weren't too late. The thought of arriving to find Grace's mangled corpse in some Titan's grip, or worse, already digested and gone forever, made his blood run cold.
He pushed his horse harder, eyes fixed on the horizon. She had to be alive.
They found a Garrison station roughly halfway between Trost and Karanes. The elevator groaned and creaked under the weight as it hauled up Levi's squadâhimself, Eld, Petra, Gunther, and Oluoâalong with Erwin and his white gelding. Below, Miche's and Hange's squads waited for the next lift. Their remaining forces would have to continue towards the functioning gate at Karanes.Â
The platform lurched upward. Erwin steadied his horse with a practiced hand, then turned to Levi and his soldiers. "Your squad takes the outer gate. Miche and Hange will handle the middle sectors on the next lift. Stay alertâthe Colossal Titan has clearly appeared again, but we don't know if the Armored Titan has shown up as well. I assume Commander Pixis is in the district; I need to find him and get his assessment of the situation."
"Sir!" His squad's voices rang in unison.
Above them, Garrison soldiers shouted instructions, moving into position to secure the platform.
Erwin's voice dropped lower, meant only for Levi. His blue eyes locked onto Levi's with an intensity that communicated everything words couldn't.
"Find her."
The lift shuddered to a halt at the top of the wall. Levi didn't hesitate. The moment his boots touched stone, he launched himself over the edge, the familiar rush of wind and mechanical whir of his ODM gear drowning out everything else. His squad followed in perfect formation and they began to sweep through the city.
As they made their way toward the outer gate, Levi's eyes scanned the streets. There were fewer Titans than he'd expected, and most of the activity seemed concentrated toward the inner gate.
"Petra. Oluo. Fall back and see what's got their attention. Eld and Gunther, start clearing the first blocks. I'm evaluating the breach."
The group separated. Levi maneuvered toward the gate, taking in the carnageâdozens of fallen soldiers, blood staining stone and wood. Then, in the distance, he saw something that made him stop cold.
Grace.
It was the first time he'd seen her in days. He'd kept his distance once she got sickâhe wasn't about to catch whatever had her bedriddenâand had ridden out on the expedition without so much as a goodbye. The thought had gnawed at him the entire way back. What if something happened? What if those were the last days he'd see her and he'd wasted them staying away?Â
Any relief at finding her alive vanished the moment he processed what he was seeing. She was using her blades to fucking climb up the back of a Titan. He'd never seen anything like it. No gas. Just her blades and sheer force of will.
Faster than should be possible, Levi shot toward the wall. The outer gate was too far from the nearest building for a direct approachâhe'd have to use the wall itself to cross the distance. His peripheral vision caught fleeting details as he movedâa massive boulder lodged in the gate, a steaming Titan carcass, a small cluster of soldiers huddled belowâbut none of it registered. His focus narrowed to a single point.
His hooks fired into the wall's surface, and he used the stone face to swing across the open gap toward the gate. He watched in horror as Grace pulled one blade free, used her feet to propel herself higher up the creature's back, then sank the blade in again, heaving herself upward with visibly shaking arms. The Titan was lumbering toward the group of soldiers below, and she was clearly trying to reach its nape before it got there.
She wasn't going to make it in time.
Levi launched himself off the wall, blades gleaming.
"Drop! Now!" he yelled as soon as he was close enough.
She let go without hesitation.
The trust in that single movement, the way she released her grip and fell without question, affected him in a way he didn't have time to examine. Levi spun mid-air, slicing through both Titans' napes in one fluid motion. The creatures started their slow collapse as he twisted back around, catching Grace before she'd fallen more than a few meters.
She wrapped her arms around his neck immediately, holding on tight as they descended together. Her breathing was labored, her body tense against his. Still in survival mode. Still fighting.
His boots hit the ground at the same time as the Titans fell.
For a moment, nothing changed. She stayed pressed against him, arms locked around his neck, her weight solid and real in his arms.Â
Alive. She was alive.
Then he felt itâthe first tremor that ran through her entire frame.
Her grip on him suddenly tightened, desperate, like she was afraid he might disappear if she let go. Her breath hitched as it came faster. The trembling intensified, spreading through her whole body until she was shaking so violently he had to adjust his hold to keep her steady.
Her adrenaline was crashing. Hard.
"You're okay," he murmured, one hand moving to cradle the back of her head. "I've got you."
The words seemed to break something in her. She made a choked sound against his shoulder and buried her face in the crook of his neck, her breath warm against his skin. He could feel wetness thereâtears, he realized. Her entire body shook with the force of everything she'd been holding back, the terror working its way out now that she didn't have to be strong anymore.
"I thoughtâ" Her voice cracked.
His hold on her tightened reflexively. "I know," he said quietly, his lips brushing against her temple. "But you're here. You're alive."
A broken sound tore from her throat. Her breathing was getting worse, each breath a labored wheeze. She'd pushed herself way too far.
Levi's jaw tightened, absorbing each tremor, each gasp. Her consciousness was starting to slip. He could feel it in the way her weight grew heavier against him, the way her grip on his cape gradually loosened. Her body surrendering to exhaustion now that someone else could carry the burden.
He looked down at her face, pale and drawn. Her stormy blue eyes met his, and for a brief moment, he saw everything thereâthe fear, the relief, the trust. Then her gaze shifted, focusing on something behind him. She lifted one trembling hand, pointing weakly toward the sealed gate.
âProtect him," she rasped, the words barely audible.
Her hand dropped. Her eyes fluttered closed, unconsciousness finally claiming her.
Levi turned, taking in the scene properly for the first time. The massive boulder wedged in the wall. The remnants of yellow smoke drifting through the sky. Bodies scattered across the courtyard, both human and Titan.
And the boy Grace had pointed to. A kid with dark brown hair, slumped but conscious beside the remains of a massive Titan. Fifteen meters at least, its body dissolving into steam. Red, vein-like markings spread from beneath the boy's eyes, branching across his face like cracks in a porcelain teacup. Steam rose from his exposed skin.
Could that meanâŚ
"Listen up." Levi's voice cut through the silence. "Now's the time you tell me exactly what I'm looking at."
A young, dark-haired girl tensed, positioning herself between Levi and the brunette. Beside her, a blonde cadet around the same age shrank back.
"Start talking. Now," Levi barked. He didn't have time for this. There were still Titans roaming the streets.
"I can explain, sir."
Levi recognized Captain Rico Brzenska as she stepped forward, looking just as haggard as Grace. Her eyes flicked to Grace's unconscious form, still cradled in his arms. Like hell he was putting her down in the filth of the street after everything she'd been through. Appearances be damned.
He listened as Brzenska succinctly described the situation. The Colossal Titan appearing. The evacuation. Reports of a Titan fighting its own kind. A boy seen emerging from said Titan. Grace damn near committing treason to save the boy from execution. And then Pixis' batshit crazy plan to seal the breach.
The steady rise and fall of Grace's chest against his was the only thing keeping Levi's composure intact. It was like Shiganshina all over again. Except this time there was a cadet who could transform into a fucking Titan.
Every instinct urged him to kill the boy and eliminate the threat. But Grace had foughtânearly diedâtrying to save him.Â
It was clear why, and for whom, she had risked so much.
Footsteps approached from behind. âThe surrounding blocks have been securedâ" Eld stopped short, his eyes widening as he took in the destruction. "Holy shit. What the hell happened here?" Then his gaze landed on Grace, unconscious in Levi's arms. "Is thatâ"
"Yes. I need you to take her to whatever medical area they have set up. And send Commander Erwin to me immediately."
"Yes, sir." Eld moved forward, reaching for the buckles of Grace's ODM gear.
As the scabbards and gas canister clanked to the ground, Levi noticed the dents in the metal. Deep impressions where a Titan's fingers had closed around her. His shoulders stiffened as the implication set in.
Sheâd been grabbed.
Sick, weakened, caught in a Titan's gripâand she'd still fought her way out. She shouldn't have been able to stand, let alone scale a fucking Titan with nothing but her blades.
"Sirâ" Eld prompted gently.
Levi realized he was still holding her, reluctant to let go. He forced himself to move, carefully transferring Grace into Eld's arms. His hands lingered a moment too long before he pulled back.
Too obvious. He'd let his guard slip.
Eld, to his credit, said nothing.
"Get her to medical," Levi said, his tone carefully neutral. "Now."
"Sir." Eld turned, moving with haste back toward the city.
Levi drew his blades and approached the Titan-shifter, intending to get answers while they were fresh. But the boy had slumped against his blonde comrade, head lolled to the side. Unconscious.
Of course.
His eyes cut to the dark-haired girl still standing guard nearby. Her gaze met hisâa familiar shade of gray that struck something in him. He filed it away for later.
The sound of hoofbeats announced Erwin's arrival before Levi saw him.
He turned as Erwin dismounted in one smooth motion, his eyes immediately sweeping across the scene. The boulder. The bodies. The steaming Titan corpse. The unconscious boy.
"Is that him?" Erwin asked.
"Yeah, but the brat passed out." Levi gestured dismissively toward the kid. "I assume Pixis filled you in?"
Erwin nodded, his gaze still moving, cataloging details, already working through strategies. Then his eyes returned to Levi.
"He mentioned Grace was part of this operation. Have you seen her?"
Levi met Erwin's gaze. There was more than professional concern thereâsomething deeper, more personal.
"She's alive. Eld took her to the medical bay."
Relief flashed across Erwin's face before his expression hardened again. "Was she alright?â
Levi thought about the dents in her gear. The wheeze in her breathing. The way she'd been shaking in his arms. The fact that she'd nearly committed treason and scaled a Titan with her bare hands while sick and brokenâand every bit of it was for Erwin.
"Fuck no, Erwin, she wasn't alright. She shouldn't have been fighting in the first place."
He'd tried to deliver it like he would for any other soldier. Professional. Detached. But his nerves were frayed, and it showedâa dangerous slip he recognized even as the words left his mouth.
Erwin's brows rose, genuine surprise crossing his features. He glanced around, checking for listeners, then stepped closer. His voice dropped low.
"Watch your tone, Levi." Not unkind, but firm. A warning more than a reprimand.
Levi would have preferred he snap at him. The patience was worse somehow.
"We have a job to do," Erwin continued, his blue eyes holding Levi's for a moment longer. An unspoken understanding passed between themâthey'd discuss this later.Â
Moments later, Commander Pixis arrived, his distinctive bald head visible even from a distance. Behind him rode Commander Nile Dok and a full squad of Military Police soldiers, their pristine uniforms a stark contrast to the blood and dirt coating everyone else.
The MPâs dismounted, moving immediately toward the unconscious cadet.
"Commander Dok,â Erwin called out as he intercepted the group. "The boy should remain in Survey Corps custody. We have the experience and facilities toâ"
âSave your breath, Smith." Dok's tone was clipped, bureaucraticâno trace of the academy classmates they'd once been. He produced a signed document from inside his jacket. "These orders come from Premier Zachary himself."
Erwin's jaw tensed, but he didn't argue further. This was already out of their hands.
Levi watched as soldiers shackled the boy and tossed him into a transport cart. The dark-haired girl looked ready to intervene, her hand twitching toward her blades, but the blonde cadet grabbed her arm and held her back.
Smart kid.
"Levi." Erwin's voice pulled his attention back. "Take your squad and coordinate clearing the remaining sectors. Leave two alive for Hange's researchâkill the rest. We can't begin cleanup until we've confirmed the district is secure."
"What about the brat?"
âWe'll handle it through proper channels." Erwin's expression gave nothing away to anyone else, but Levi had known him long enough to read between the lines. He was already scheming. "Focus on clearing the district. I'll focus on securing the boy."
In other words: you do your job and let me do mine.
Levi clicked his tongue but didn't argue. âUnderstood.â
He walked away to regroup with his squad. As he fired his hooks into the nearest building, he caught one last glimpse of Erwin speaking quietly with Pixis, their heads bent together like conspirators.
Fine. Let Erwin handle the politics. Levi had Titans to kill.
Grace woke to darkness and the flickering of torches beyond the canvas walls of a small tent. The sounds of organized chaos filtered throughâshouted orders, the rumble of carts, the distant hiss of ODM gear.
Everything came back to her in a rush. The wall. The Titans. Eren.
"Good to see you're still with the living."
Grace started, turning her head to find Nanaba sitting beside her cot. Her squad mate was grinning despite the obvious exhaustion on her face.
Grace tried to sit up quickly, but pain shot through her ribs, forcing a gasp from her lips.
"Hey, take it easy there." Nanaba helped her into a sitting position, then handed her a canteen. Grace lifted it with shaking hands and drank, the water soothing her raw throat.
Grace took in Nanaba's appearance. Sweat gleamed on her skin and her cropped blonde hair stuck to her forehead, but otherwise she looked no worse for wear.
"What's going on? What have I missed?" Grace asked, shocked by how hoarse her voice sounded.
"We just finished culling the last of the Titans and we're working on cleanup now. No casualties since we arrived."
Relief flooded through Grace. "And my brother? Is heâ"
"He's fine," Nanaba assured her quickly, squeezing her hand. "Busy," Nanaba said with a smirk. "You know how he gets."
Grace released a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. He was okay.
Nanaba leaned forward, her eyes bright with curiosity. "Grace, you've gotta tell me. Is it true what they're saying?"
Were any other soldier asking, Grace would have hesitated. Eren didn't need to be sensationalized any further. But Nanaba wasn't just any soldierâshe was one of Graceâs closest friends in the regiment. She'd taken Grace under her wing when she first transferred into Miche's squad, defending her when others questioned why she suddenly had a place among the Survey Corps' elite. They'd shared everything since thenâfears whispered in the dark before expeditions, grief over lost comrades, secrets they'd never tell another soul.
Grace nodded slowly. "Yeah. A kid is able to turn into a Titan."
"Holy shit. Holy shitâ" Nanaba breathed, shaking her head in disbelief. "That'sâhow is that even possible?"
Before Grace could answer, the tent flap was tossed open. A familiar face ducked insideâMoblit, with his brown hair slightly disheveled from the day's chaos. His hazel eyes immediately found Grace, widening with relief. He visibly relaxed, a smile breaking through his typically serious demeanor.
"You're awake."
"Can't get rid of me that easy," Grace said, managing a weak smile despite the rasp in her voice.
His smile faltered when he heard how strained her voice was. He moved to sit on the other side of her cot, and Grace felt a pang of guilt at the concern etched across his face. Moblit had been her anchor since the Cadet Corps, the only other trainee in their year foolish enough to choose the Scout Regiment when everyone else had selected safer assignments. They'd survived their first expedition together, and every nightmare after.
"How are you feeling?" he asked, though his expression suggested he already knew the answer.
Grace shifted, testing her body. She tried to hide her wince as her ribs screamed in protest. "Not great, but I should be able to help with the cleanup. Something less strenuous like identification orââ
"No," Nanaba and Moblit said in unison.
"You've had enough heroics today. You have strict orders to stay put and rest," Nanaba said firmly.
"From who?" Grace asked, wondering how much leeway she'd have. The answer would determine whether she was actually stuck here.
A knowing smirk crossed Nanaba's face. "Who do you think?"
Erwin. Of course.
Grace sighed, slumping back against the thin pillow.
Nanaba and Moblit deftly changed the subject, switching to discussing the recovery efforts. It wasnât long before when the tent flap burst open with such force that Grace jumped.
"Grace! You're alive! Tell me everything!" Hange exclaimed, practically bouncing as they rushed to perch on the edge of her cot.
"Hange, she just woke up," Moblit said, exasperation clear in his tone.
âGood morning. Now tell me everything," Hange repeated without missing a beat, leaning forward with barely contained excitement. Their brown hair had mostly escaped its ponytail, and their glasses sat slightly crooked on their face. Their eyes, however, still gleamed with unmistakable curiosity.
Grace couldn't help but smile despite her exhaustion. She relayed her story as best she could, though Hange made it difficult, peppering her with questions about Eren's transformation, his behavior, his capabilities. What did his transformation look like? How long did it take? Was there steam? What did his Titan form look like? Could he communicate? How much control did he seem to have?
Grace did her best to answer, though her memories of those moments were fragmented by adrenaline and fear.
After what felt like the hundredth question, Hange paused, their expression shifting to something more impish.
"I heard Levi made quite the dramatic rescue," they said, leaning closer. "And here I thought he was trying to keep his distance since you were sick. Guess all that caution went out the window pretty quick."
Grace felt heat rise to her cheeks. Nanaba snorted, not even trying to hide her amusement, while Moblit sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Have you seen Erwin?" Grace asked, desperate to redirect the conversation. "I need to speak with him about something."
"Hmm." Hange tapped their chin. "Not in a while. Last I heard, he was meeting with Pixis and some of the brass." They tilted their head, studying Grace. "Why? What's going on in that pretty head of yours?"
"Oh." Grace's shoulders sagged. Part of her had hoped to discuss this with Erwin first. "That's fine. I'm sure he's already come to the same realization I did."
Hange's eyes sharpened. "And what realization is that?"
Grace hesitated. The thought had gnawed at her since the wallâstanding with the Alpha Squad, waiting for deploymentâbut seeing Eren transform had given it undeniable weight.Â
She met her friends' eyes. She trusted them implicitly, but saying the words out loud would make them real, would bring them into a reality that none of them might be ready to face.
But it needed to be said.
"If Eren can transform into a Titan..." Grace's voice was barely above a whisper. "Then maybe he's not the only one. Maybe the Colossal and Armored Titansâmaybe they're human too."
The tent went silent.
Nanaba's hand covered her mouth, eyes wide with shock. Moblit went pale. Hange's expression shifted to something grimmer than Grace had seen in a long time.
"The Colossal and the Armored," Hange said quietly. "Shifters. Like Eren." They met Grace's eyes. "That would mean Shiganshina, Wall Maria, Trostâit wasn't an accident. It was an attack."
Grace nodded, her throat tight.
"Holy shit," Nanaba breathed.
Moblit looked sick. "But why? Who wouldâ"
"I don't know," Grace admitted.
Hange stood abruptly, pacing the small space. "You know Erwin, he's always twenty steps ahead of us. Probably came to this conclusion the moment he heard about Eren." They turned back to Grace. "If I see him, I'll tell him to stop by. It's the least he could do for hisâ"
A nurse entered the tent, cutting off whatever Hange had been about to say. Her stern expression made her displeasure clear.
"Out. All of you," she ordered. "This soldier needs rest, not a strategy meeting."
Hange opened their mouth to protest, but Moblit was already ushering them toward the exit. "Come on, Section Commander. Let her rest."
âBut I still need to cross-reference all of her observations with my notes!â
"Later, Hange," Nanaba said firmly, though she squeezed Grace's hand before standing. "Get some sleep. We'll talk more when you're on your feet."
Grace wanted to protest, to continue the conversation, but exhaustion was already pulling at her. The nurse checked her injuries with gentle but thorough hands. She administered somethingâanother medicine that burned going downâand adjusted her blanket.
"Rest now," the nurse said, leaving no room for debate. "Your body needs time to heal."
Grace tried to resist, to ask about what was happening outsideâbut the medicine was already pulling her under. The last thing she saw before darkness claimed her was the tent flap swaying where her friends had exited, and the knowledge that everything had changed.
For the next three days, Grace remained bedridden. She was eventually moved back into headquarters once the building had been cleared for reoccupancy. During that time, she wrote up her report of the Battle of Trost and read every other incident report she could get her hands on. Or rather, anything Moblit could slip to her.
He told her it was to make up for the fact that he was the reason she'd remained in Trost in the first place, having told Miche how sick she truly was. Grace didn't blame him. Nobody could have predicted what had happened that day.
Her squad members visited when they could, as did Hange and Moblit. Grace was grateful for the company, yet she couldn't stop hoping each time the curtain moved.Â
The two people she wanted to see most never came.
So she busied herself learning everything she could about Eren Yeagerâabout his father going missing, about the cellar and the possible secret held there that he'd revealed to Commander Pixis. She wondered what knowledge could be hidden down there. A clue to defeating the Titans? Understanding where they came from?
On the fourth day, Miche brought news. Commander Erwin had a plan. He and Levi had gone to Mitras, where Eren was being held in custody, and the boy had agreed to join the Survey Corps. That wasn't a surprise, as Eren's file indicated he'd always intended to join the Scouts.Â
What was a surprise was that Erwin wanted to use Eren's Titan ability to retake Wall Maria. Of course, that depended on Eren not being executed at his upcoming tribunal.
"Erwin wants you to be there," Miche said.
Graceâs brow furrowed. "Why?"
Miche shrugged. âGuess you'll find out."
The next day, Grace woke feeling considerably better. Still sore and easily fatigued, but she'd been cleared to ride again. She was thrilled to be reunited with her horse, Asterinâa beautiful, albeit temperamental, buckskin mare. Her striking golden coat and contrasting black mane, tail, and stockings made her one of the more distinctive mounts in the Survey Corps. Asterin immediately nuzzled Grace's pockets, searching for the sugar cubes Grace frequently snuck her.
"Sorry, girl. Next time, I promise," Grace said, stroking Asterin's nose fondly. Asterin pawed at the ground in response, clearly unimpressed.
Grace traveled to Mitras alongside Miche and Hange, the day's journey passing in easy camaraderie. Most of the time Hange carried the conversation, jumping between theories about Eren and speculation about the tribunal's outcome, with Miche occasionally offering his characteristically wry observations. Grace mostly listened, grateful for the normalcy of it.
It reminded her of her early years in the Scouts, back before everything changed. Before Erwin became Commander and Wall Maria fell. Before the weight of command had settled on all her friends' shoulders and every decision carried the burden of hundreds of lives. Before the stakes became impossibly high.
They reached Mitras as evening fell. The inn they found was modest but within walking distance of the courthouse. Tomorrow would determine Eren Yeager's fateâand possibly humanity's as well. Grace couldn't help but wonder why she had been summoned. Nobody else had been permitted to attend the tribunal, a fact her squad had given her endless shit about.
Grace's mind was restless with questions, but exhaustion from the day's ride eventually won out. The comfort of the plush bed didn't hurt either.
The next morning, she woke early, donned a clean uniform, and met Miche and Hange downstairs for breakfast. Grace relished her cup of teaâit was far better than the bitter blend supplied back at headquarters. She found herself thinking of Levi, how his eyes always softened the slightest bit after his first sip of quality tea. He had probably already consumed multiple cups by this point. Today would be the first time she'd seen him since he'd rescued her in Trost.
She couldn't remember much of what happened, but the feel of his arms around her was burned into memory. The last time they'd been that close was at Erwin's promotional celebration.
And that had been a disaster.
The three of them walked to the courthouse together, but parted ways inside. Hange and Miche headed down to retrieve Eren from his cell beneath the building.
"We'll meet you up on the balcony," Miche said, gesturing toward the side staircase. "Less visible that way."
Grace understood. Her involvement in Trost, particularly her near-mutiny to save Eren, could do more harm than good for the Scouts' case if it drew attention.
The balcony was already crowded with Military Police and Garrison soldiers who gave her pointed glances as she took her position by the railing. She tried to ignore them, but she knew they'd read the reports. They knew about her behavior toward Captain Weilmanâand knew exactly why nothing came of it.
Instead, she stood at attention, taking in the ornate details of the courtroomâthe painted ceiling, the marble floors polished to a near-reflective shine, and the rich wooden stands.
There were more merchants and civilians present than she'd expected. And, somewhat surprisingly, a priest from the Order of the Walls, his three gold chains gleaming garishly. That could be a problem. The Order considered the Scouts abominations for leaving the "sanctity" of the walls, conveniently ignoring that those walls were nothing more than a cage.
Grace spotted Rico below, as well as Armin and Mikasa standing near the front. Her eyes then found Erwin and Levi among the gathered officers. Erwin stood tall and imposing even in the crowd, his blonde hair neatly combed back, blue eyes sharp as they surveyed the room. Levi stood beside himâshorter, darker, equally composed in his spotless uniform and signature cravat. His steel-gray eyes scanning the room with habitual wariness.
Both men seemed to sense her attention. Levi's gaze snapped to hers, held for one heartbeat, then deliberately shifted away. But Erwin held her gaze longer, concern evident in the subtle furrow between his brows and the way his typically guarded expression softened. Even from this distance, she could see the weight of unasked questions in his eyes.
The massive doors burst open, the sound echoing through the ornate chamber. Every conversation died. The crowd tensed as Eren Yeager was escorted inside by three Military Police soldiers. His wrists were bound in iron shackles, the chains clinking with each step. Grace felt Hange and Miche move up beside her at the railing as Eren was shoved to his knees in the center of the courtroom. The MPâs secured his chains to a metal pole, like an animal being tethered, leaving him exposed and vulnerable before the assembled crowd.
Grace nearly scoffed at the theatrics. If Eren transformed in here, those chains would be meaninglessâhe'd bring the entire building down on their heads.
Eren's eyes swept across the crowd, and Grace could see the fear written plainly on his face. He looked like what he was: a frightened kid on trial for his life.
Spectators rose to their feet and soldiers snapped into salutes as Premier Darius Zachary entered the room. The Premier was stocky and broad-shouldered, a man who'd clearly been formidable in his youth. His gray hair was slicked back, and his thick beard was meticulously groomed. The screech of his chair echoed through the silent hall as he lowered himself into his seat.
"Alright, shall we begin?" He adjusted his glasses and glanced at the papers before him. "Eren Yeager, you are a soldier in wartime, which puts you under military jurisdiction. As Commander of our armed forces, I will decide whether you live or you die."
Zachary paused to let his words sink in. The silence was oppressive.
"Any objections?"
"No, sir," Eren answered quietly, nothing like the fiery boy Grace had met atop the wall.
"Your astuteness is appreciated. Let us proceed."
Premier Zachary explained how Eren's concealment of his abilities had complicated the situation, how revealing them could cause widespread civil unrest. The longer this dragged on, the greater the risk to public order.
âTwo requests have been submitted regarding your custodyâone from the Military Police, one from the Scout Regiment. Whichever regiment I grant custody to will determine your fate. To begin, the Military Police will present their case.â
Nile Dok stepped forwardâtall and handsome despite his shaggy, dark locks and sparse facial hair. Grace knew him personally; he was married to Marie, her childhood best friend.Â
Marie's family had taken Grace in after her father died and her brother left to join the military. Their mother had passed during Grace's birth, so once they were orphans, her brother had enlisted for the subsidy in order to care for her. Grace understood his reasons, but being left alone at tenâso soon after what she'd witnessed with their fatherâhad been devastating. Marie had been the one to notice something was wrong, to help her through those dark months. She was like a sister.
Grace felt a pang of regret that she hadn't made time to visit Marie and her daughters on their way through. But personal matters would have to wait.Â
They always did.
She refocused as Nile began to speak.
"Thank you. My name is Nile Dok, Commander of the Military Police. Following a thorough examination, our recommendation is clear. Eren Yeager should be disposed of immediately."
Grace watched Eren's head whip toward Commander Dok, his eyes wide with shock. She clenched her jaw in frustration, but she wasnât entirely surprised by his announcement.
"We acknowledge that Yeager's ability played a part in defeating the latest Titan incursion. However, as has been stated, his mere existence is creating a swell of rebellious sentiment. For the greater good, after we have gathered all the information we can from him, we would see him made a fallen warrior of humanity."
""Unacceptable!â the priest yelled out, his face red. âThis fiend has defiled the mighty walls! And you would glorify him as some kind of hero? It is an affront to all that is sacred!"
Grace glanced at Hange, who rolled their eyes. Tensions between the Scouts and the Order of the Walls were well documented. Plus, with their scientific mind, Hange found the church's doctrine to be little more than illogical fairy tales.
After continuing to rant for several moments, Premier Zachary held up his hand, halting the priest's tirade. To his credit, the man did quiet down, though his expression showed his displeasure.
"And now I'd like to hear the Scout Regiment's proposed plan," Zachary announced.
Grace's attention shifted to Commander Erwin, who stood with his characteristic poiseâshoulders back, expression composed, every inch the tactical genius he was known to be. Grace held her breath. She'd seen Erwin navigate countless political minefields with his intellect and strategic brilliance. But this? Convincing the leader of the entire military to spare a boy who could become a Titan? Even for Erwin, it seemed a stretch.
"Yes, sir. As Commander of the Survey Corps, I, Erwin Smith, propose the following: let Eren join our ranks, and we will utilize his Titan ability to retake Wall Maria." He paused, his blue eyes unwavering. "That is all."
Grace blinked. That was it? No elaborate argument? No carefully constructed logic? She'd expected speeches, counterpoints, political maneuvering. Not...this.
Beside her, Miche hummed low in approval, nodding slightly. Of course he understood. She was often surprised by how well Miche and Erwin read each other, considering how different they were. Miche was quiet where Erwin was commanding, somewhat aloof where Erwin was intensely focused. Miche had a mischievous streak that occasionally surfacedâa dry humor that caught people off guard. He approached life with a certain lightness, even in the face of death.
Erwin, by contrast, was serious almost to a fault. Militant in his dedication to the cause, disciplined in every aspect of his work. Where Miche could find humor in the darkest moments, Erwin carried the weight of every decision, every loss. He was philosophical in a way that could be unsettling, always thinking ten steps ahead, always calculating probabilities and costs.
Yet somehow, when Erwin had joined the Scouts years ago, they'd become fast friends. Now they were the two most senior members of the regiment. They understood what the Survey Corps truly meantâand what it demanded of those who wore the Wings of Freedom.
Grace glanced between them, something uneasy settling in her chest. Erwin's gambit was either brilliant or reckless She couldn't tell which.
Whispers began to flow through the crowd, everyone shocked by Erwin's brief argument.
Even Zachary seemed surprised. "Is that it?"
"Yes, sir. With his assistance, I am certain we can reclaim Wall Maria. Ergo, I believe our top priority is perfectly clear."
"Quite bold," Zachary noted, running his hand through his beard thoughtfully.
He asked logical questions about Erwin's proposed operation, like where they would launch the expedition now that the Trost gate was unusable. Grace felt this was a good sign, that he was considering it seriously.
However, one of the merchants chimed in with his dissatisfaction. "We should be sealing up all the gates, reinforcing them from further attacks by the Colossal and Armored Titans! Not continuing to waste resources on the Scouts' futile expeditions! We canât afford this any more!â
Grace's hands tightened on the railing, anger flaring hot in her chest.
Suddenly the room devolved into chaos, people shouting over each other, arguments building until it was impossible to tell who was arguing with who.
"Squealing louder won't help your case, pig."
A cold voice brought the chatter to a screeching halt.
Levi.
Grace heard Hange chuckle quietly beside her. It was a typical Levi statementâblunt, cutting, effective.
"Do you think the Titans are going to wait patiently for us to shore our defenses?â Levi continued. "And when you say 'we can't afford it,' do you mean anyone other than your fat merchant friends? Do you even realize that most of our people are struggling just to survive off of what little land we have left?"
Most people thought Levi was cold and uncaringâhe certainly came across that way. But Grace knew better. It wasn't overtly obvious, but if you paid attention to his words, to the small gestures he made when no one was looking, it became clear. Levi was always looking out for others.
Grace knew he'd been raised in the Undergroundâa fact Levi had shared with her in confidence, and something most people would never learn about him. The Underground was a sprawling subterranean city beneath the capital, a failed expansion left to ruin. Life down there was brutal, unforgiving. It was where people went to disappear, where humanity's poorest struggled to survive in conditions that would break most.
Yet it hadn't broken Levi. It had made him sharp around the edges, but beneath that hardened exterior was someone who understood suffering intimatelyâand refused to let others experience the same.
The Premier banged his gavel before the merchant could respond. "Order!"
The courtroom fell silent.
"Mr. Yeager, I have a question for you," Zachary segued. "As a soldier, you have sworn to act when called upon. Can you still serve by controlling your ability?"
"Yes, I will, sir!" Eren answered.
"Is that so? Well, this report from the Battle of Trost contradicts that statement." Zachary lifted a piece of paper. "Just after transforming, it seems you made an attempt to crush Mikasa Ackerman."
The chains around Eren's limbs rattled as he shifted to look in horror at Mikasa.
Grace watched Mikasa's hand fly up to cover her cheek, hiding the cut she had sustained from the incident. She scowled at Rico beside her, clearly upset that the incident had been reported. But there was no way Rico could have lied about something that significant. Grace had offered the same testimony in her own report.
Zachary asked Mikasa to step forward and confirm whether Eren had attacked her in his Titan form.
She paused, the weight of everyone's attention on her.
"Yes. Itâs true."
Whispers began to stir again.
"I knew it. He's a wolf in sheep's clothing," someone on the balcony muttered.
Eren slumped down, clearly distraught.
"However," Mikasa continued, her voice growing stronger, "he also saved my life twice before. And in each instance, he was using his Titan ability."
Grace listened as Mikasa explained how Eren had protected her from two Titans, and then recounted how he shielded her and Armin from cannon fire.
"I implore you to take these facts into consideration," Mikasa finished.
"Objection!" Nile called out. "We have reason to believe personal feelings play a large part in her testimony."
Grace felt a flash of anger towards Nile. She knew first hand how it felt to constantly have her feelings called into question, every action deliberated because of who she was and who she cared for.
"Records show that Mikasa Ackerman was orphaned at a young age and taken in by the Yeager family. What's more, our own internal investigation led to a shocking discoveryâEren Yeager and Mikasa Ackerman, at the tender age of nine, dealt with three adult kidnappers by stabbing them to death."
Gasps sounded around the room.
Even Grace's brows rose at the revelation. That hadn't been in any of the reports she'd reviewed while bedridden. They must have kept it confidential. But as soon as her shock appeared, it faded. Her heart hurt for Mikasa. As a young orphan herself, she couldn't imagine the trauma the girl had endured. She felt no sorrow for the kidnappers.
"Granted, it was done in self-defense," Nile continued. "However, one cannot help but question the violent nature of the act. Knowing all of this, should we really invest in him? Money, manpower, the very fate of us all?"
The audience began frantically talking amongst themselves, tensions rising.
"Maybe she's one!" someone cried out, pointing at Mikasa.
"Dissect her too, just to be safe!"
Grace opened her mouth to speak, but Miche's hand shot out to grab her arm.
"Don't," he ordered quietly.
"Hold on a second!" Eren yelled, his entire demeanor shifting. "I'm the monster you want deadâleave her out of this! She's innocent!"
"Like we'd believe you!"
"It's the truth!" Eren screamed.
"She must be one if you're protecting her!"
"Stop it!" Eren pulled hard enough on his chains that the clang echoed over the yelling.
Silence fell over the courtroom. It seemed everyone was afraid to breathe, lest they cause him to transform.
"You're wrong. About all of it. But you're so intent on pushing your selfish agendas, you're blind to what's in front of you," Eren spat.
"What do you mean?" Nile asked carefully.
"What does it even matter? None of you have even seen a Titan! So why are you so afraid?" Eren's voice rose with each word. "There's no sense in having power if you're not going to fight! If you're too scared to fight for your lives, then fine! Let me do it! Youâyou're all cowards! So just shut up and put your faith in me!"
"Take aim, damn it!" Nile ordered as Eren yelled.
The room seemed to fall into slow motion. The MP beside Nile cocked his gun, his hand moving to the trigger. Eren fell silent, his eyes widening as he stared down the barrel.
Then Captain Levi leaped over the railing, strode over to Eren, and kicked him in the face so hard that blood flew from his mouth.
Grace gasped. Miche's grip on her arm tightened, holding her in place.
Levi continued his assault, each kick brutal and precise. As horrible as it was to watch, Grace couldn't tear her eyes away.
"You know, personally, I think nothing instills discipline like pain," Levi said as he delivered another kick. "You don't need a good talking to, kid. You need to be taught a lesson. And you're in perfect kicking position."
Even Hange winced beside her.
Grace looked to Erwin. His face gave nothing away, that practiced commander's mask firmly in place. But she'd known him long enough to see through itâthere was no surprise in his eyes. Was this all part of their plan?
"Now hold on, Levi," Nile interrupted.
"What is it?" Levi replied dully, removing his foot from Eren's face. Even from the balcony, Grace could see how bruised and bloody the boy was.
"It's dangerous. What if he gets angry and turns into a Titan?" Nile asked, clearly on edge.
"Don't be silly," Levi said, grabbing Eren by the hair and lifting his head. "You guys just want to dissect him, don't you? During the time Yeager was transformed, they say he killed twenty Titans before he ran out of strength. His intelligence makes him all the more dangerous. But I can still take him down without a problem. How many of you can say the same?" He let the question hang in the air. "Before you torment the beast, you'd better thinkâcan you actually kill him?"
"Sir, I have a proposition," Erwin announced, raising his hand.
"Proceed," Zachary replied.
"There's still too much we don't know, and no doubt his danger will be ever present. I suggest that Eren be placed under Captain Levi's supervision, and we'll conduct a reconnaissance mission outside the wall. If he successfully controls his ability, Eren will have proven his value to mankind."
"Eren Yeager will be closely supervised," Zachary said slowly. "And if he should lose control?"
"I can definitely kill him if it comes down to that," Levi replied. "The only downside is there is absolutely no middle ground."
A tense silence hung over the courtroom as Zachary considered the proposal.
"Then I have made my decision," he finally announced.
Everyone seemed to hold their breath.
"Eren Yeager is to be placed in the custody of the Scout Regiment."
Grace exhaled slowly, relief washing over her. Even Miche and Hange seemed to relax, tension bleeding from their shoulders.
The MPâs surrounding them scoffed, muttering under their breath as they began filing out.
Grace watched as soldiers came to unlock Eren's chains, Levi standing beside him. His eyes flickered up to the balcony for a moment, finding hers.
She met his gaze despiteâor perhaps because ofâthe violence she'd just witnessed. There was a stark contrast between the man below, who had just beaten Eren ruthlessly, and the one who had cradled her so carefully in Trost. The memory of that softness, the way he'd held her as though she might break, seemed worlds away from the blood-splattered courtroom floor.
Grace had trusted his voice when it commanded her to let go, to fall. And he'd been there. Her trust had not wavered. Not then, in free fall. Not now, watching him wipe Eren's blood from his knuckles with the same hands that had saved her life.
She didnât know the reasons behind his actions, but she trusted him nonetheless.
âWell, that went better than I expected," Hange said once the balcony had cleared.
"Much better. We should head down to meet them now," Miche said, leading them toward the exit.
As they walked down a hallway in the courthouse, Grace finally asked the question that had been nagging at her since she'd received the invitation. "So why was I asked to be here?"
âMoral support,â Miche answered.
Grace's brow furrowed. Hange threw an arm around her shoulders. "Erwin thought it might help for Eren to have a friendly face after the trial, should things get...violent."
"Ah." So that had been planned all along.
Miche stopped at an office door, and all three stepped inside. The room was plainly adorned, clearly meant for meetings. Miche moved to stand by the window, taking in the view of Mitrasâall clean streets and pristine buildings, so glaringly different from the blood-soaked ruins of Trost.
Hange settled onto a wooden bench against the wall, stretching their legs out with a sigh.
Grace leaned against the wall beside where Hange sat, trying to appear casual despite her nervous energy. She felt a swarm of emotions within herârelief at the tribunal's outcome, exhaustion from her recovery, anxiety about what came next. So much was happening so quickly, the world shifting beneath her feet faster than she could find stable ground.
And she was going to come face to face with Levi for the first time in days. Not to mention finally seeingâ
The door opened, and Commander Erwin walked through.
His eyes found hers immediately, and for a heartbeat the mask slipped. Relief flickered across his face, followed by concern and unspoken questions. Grace offered him a small smile in answerâshe was all right, she'd survived.
The moment didn't last long. Levi and Eren filed into the room behind Erwin, and Grace's attention split between them. Levi immediately positioned himself against the wall directly opposite her, his gray eyes meeting hers for just a fraction of a second before sliding away. Erenâs face was swollen and bloody, but somehow didnât look as bad as Grace would have expected. The boyâs eyes locked onto her, his demeanor brightening.
"Oof, Levi did a number on you, huh? Let me take a look," Hange said cheerfully, standing and guiding Eren over to sit on the bench they'd just vacated.
âApologies for the theatrics,â Erwin said as Hange pulled out a handkerchief to dab gently at Erenâs face. âBut it did get you placed in our custody.â
Erwin was standing close nowâtoo closeâand Grace suddenly felt the weight of everything sheâd endured over the past week pressing down on her. Leviâs gaze on them from across the room didnât help either
âI understand,â Eren replied, wincing as Hange touched a cut above his eye.
âI can assure you, the pain was worth it,â Erwin said, his voice carrying the quiet satisfaction of a gamble well played.
Then he knelt before Eren, extending his hand with genuine regard in his expression.
"You have my utmost respect, Eren. I'm glad you're on our team."
"Me too! Glad to be here, sir!" Eren exclaimed, shaking Erwin's hand with as much enthusiasm as his battered state would allow.
"Right, so you've met Section Commanders Hange Zoe and Miche Zacharias earlier," Erwin said, rising and gesturing to each in turn. "And Captain Levi, as well."
Levi pushed off from the wall and walked across the room to drop onto the bench on the other side of Eren, casually crossing his legs. Grace noticed the slight flinch that betrayed the boyâs nerves.
"So, Eren. You don't resent me now, do you?"
"No. I can see why what you did was necessary, sir," Eren replied sheepishly, his arms folding across his chest.
"Good. Glad you understand," Levi said, his tone flat as ever. But Grace caught the brief glint of relief in his eyesâheâd been more worried than he let on.
"And, of course, you already know Private Smith," Erwin said, finishing the introductions.
Grace came to stand beside him, meeting Erenâs gaze with a faint smile. âItâs good to see you again.â
"You too! Smith, huh? What a coincidenâ" Eren's words trailed off abruptly, his eyes suddenly flitting back and forth between Grace and Erwin.
Grace smiled somewhat sheepishly as she watched understanding bloom across Eren's face.
Hange clearly noticed too, because they barked out a laugh. "I can see the gears turning."
"Iâwaitâare you..." Eren stammered, pointing between them.
"Seriously?" Levi scoffed, shaking his head.
Erwin looked to Grace, his brows knitting in confusion. Then realization dawnedâEren didnât know.
"Ah, it appears you were not aware. My apologies, Cadet Yeager,â Erwin said, his voice softening. âThis is Private Grace Smith. My sister.â
ahhh, so sorry for the wait! truthfully i've been struggling with this chapter and really want to make sure i get it right. i'm about halfway done, so hopefully it won't be too much longer! thank you for your patience âĽď¸
kita fic where he notices an elegant stork that has taken to stalking through a single paddy. he doesn't think much of itâstorks are common enough, even though this is the most beautiful one he's ever seenâand only notes it here and there.
until one night, he sees it touch down into the moonlit paddy and take on human form.
Kita waits patiently for it to crest the horizon, a silver mirror peeking over the edge of the world. The moon provides no light of its own, he knows, but these days, it feels as if it does, a spotlight of sweet light that no sun could ever match.Â
Finally, the silvery moonlight reaches the edge of the paddy that you're prowling about on long, slim legs.Â
A feather slips from your wings, snow-white. Another follows it, and then another, and another still, until they're dandelion seeds caught in the wind, fluttering into the murky water that pools under the still-growing rice. The moonlight kisses them until they glow. That glow builds, grows brighter and brighter, until Kita has to look away.Â
"Kita," you croon, soft and sweet despite the clattering quality of your voice, like bills clicking together.Â
He holds out the blanket without looking towards you; he feels it lift from his hands, a feather blown away.Â
"You can look," you say, amused as always.Â
He does.Â
You're bathed in moonlight, its rays caught in your hair like tinsel. Wrapped around you, the blanket seems more like a robe, something royal. As you wade back to shore, it dips and reveals the slope of your shoulder, a sweet slice of skin.Â
Kita is not a man who covets, but the moon strips him bare under its watchful gaze. He thinks your skin would taste of moonlight; he aches to find out.Â
He does not say this.Â
You fold yourself to sit with him, your body a piece of origami, each crease of it perfect, delicate, strong. He watches you from the corner of his eye. The moon loves you like its child; its light plays over your face gently.Â
You lean into him. He presses back softly, tucks himself into your side, a rib returned.Â
"I don't think I want to be human," you say.Â
Kita takes in a breath.Â
"I know," he says.Â
You turn to peer at him, your eyes moony, big and beautiful and knowing.Â
"I'm sorry," you say.Â
"I know."
You tilt your head, birdlike, your neck a gentle curve, a column of flesh and bone. Kita reaches out and cups your jaw. You turn into his touch, press your lips against the weathered map of his palm.Â
He strokes a thumb over your cheek; it's downy soft. He traces up to your temple, brushing against the pinfeathers there, each of them a needle's prick.Â
"I'll always be here," he says.Â
"I know."Â
Your eyes reflect the moon. They slide shut as he leans forward, the mirror of them shrouded.Â
Your lips are cool. You part them; Kita dips his tongue inside. You taste of fresh water, sweet and quenching. He guides you with a gentle hand, but you don't need it for long. You take to his touch like a seed takes to the soil, blooming against his mouth.Â
You make a noise akin to a moan; he devours it, lets it pour down his throat. Your armsâcovered in soft downâdrape over his shoulders. The blanket starts to slip. You wiggle until it puddles in your lap.Â
Kita kisses you, and kisses you, until the moonlight is no longer sweet on your skin. It's beaming out from you, a silver glow, and the down beneath his fingertips starts to lengthen.Â
"I love you," you breathe against his lips.Â
"Me too," he says. "Always."Â
He can feel your smile. It's a little bit sad. You kiss him again, breathe in his air and make it your own.Â
"Shinsuke," you say.Â
"Sh," he murmurs. "It's okay."
The glow beneath your skin becomes a comet streaking through the sky, burning bright.Â
Kita closes his eyes.Â
When night settles back in, he opens them again. You stand before him, a beautiful stork, white as the driven snow. You linger for a moment, kissed by moonlight, and then your wings spread wide. This close, they seem to touch the horizon, to take up the entire sky.Â
You take off into the night.Â
Kita watches until you disappear, until you're a flickering star studded against the velvet sky. He sits at the paddy's edge, his fingers wound in the blanket you'd shed.Â
vaporwave
turnnoffyourmind
s-u-f-j-a-n-s-t-e-v-e-n-s
stormborns
izzy806
germansingergirl
2087
