Summary: You used to be the loudest person in the room—until a room full of people broke you. Now you’re a ghost at Furin High, silent, skittish, and desperate to fade. Sakura Haruka notices you pulling away from the very thing you secretly crave, and the stubborn, emotionally constipated fighter refuses to let you disappear. He just never expected you could shatter a concrete wall with your bare hands—or that the quiet one might be the only person who truly understands him.
Fandom: Wind Breaker (Nii Satoru)
Because I made a poll and added wind breaker as a joke and it ended up winning Lmaooo
You enroll at Furin High because you’ve heard the rumours. The students here are delinquents, monsters in human skin, a unified swarm of violence. You tell yourself it’s perfect. Nobody will try to befriend the kid who keeps their head down. No one will drag you into group chats or lunch tables or inside jokes. You can be invisible, and invisibility is safe.
On your first day, the noise hits you like a physical blow. The courtyard thrums with laughter, shouted greetings, the scuffle of playful fights that are one wrong move from real. Your heart rams against your ribs. Somewhere deep in your chest, the person you used to be stirs—this looks fun, doesn’t it?—and you kill the thought instantly. Fun is a gateway. Fun is a trap. You keep your eyes on the ground and walk.
You don’t notice the boy with the mismatched eyes and the permanent scowl who watches you skirt the edge of a group like a stray cat avoiding a puddle. Sakura Haruka clocks you immediately. Not because you’re interesting—he’d deny that later, cheeks red—but because you move the way he used to. Shoulders tight. Personal space rigidly maintained. A flicker of something hungry in your eyes when you look at Nirei tripping over his own feet to greet a second-year, then a shutter slamming down.
He hates it. He doesn’t know why, but it bothers him.
For two weeks, you’re a ghost. You’ve perfected the art of eating lunch in the least-populated corner of the school, timing your exits so you never get caught in a bottleneck. When a classmate tries to wave you over—Hey, new kid, come join!—your throat closes. You manage a tiny shake of your head and flee. The old you would’ve high-fived that stranger, learned their name, told a joke so loud the whole floor would laugh. Now the thought of so many eyes on you makes your hands shake so badly you have to ball them into fists.
Sakura notices the fists. He notices everything. He’s observant in a way people never expect from a guy who communicates primarily in grunts and insults. One afternoon, he sees you almost crack. The whole first-year group is sprawled across the rooftop, Umemiya’s vegetable garden glowing in the sun. Nirei is rambling about someone’s fighting style; Suo is smiling his enigmatic smile; Tsugeura is flexing. There’s a space on the bench, and you pause by the stairwell door, fingers twitching toward the handle. Your expression is a battlefield—longing and terror and self-loathing all at once.
You don’t open the door. Sakura, standing ten feet away with a juice box, watches you leave. For a second, he sees himself in middle school, watching other kids cluster together while he stood frozen, convinced they’d mock his hair, his eyes, his very existence. The difference is, they never wanted him. But these idiots would welcome you in a heartbeat.
That’s when he decides you’re a problem he can’t ignore.
He corners you after class the next day. He’s terrible at it. He looms in the hallway, arms crossed, jaw tight, and barks, “Oi. You. Why do you keep running away?”
You flinch. The walls are too close. His eyes are too intense. Your pulse skyrockets. You can’t breathe. You shove past him and bolt. Sakura is left staring after you, his scowl more confused than angry. He replays the moment, sees the panic flash in your eyes, and feels a cold twist in his gut. He’s frightening you. He, who knows exactly what it feels like to be cornered and afraid, just did that to someone else.
He doesn’t apologize with words because words aren’t his language. Instead, he changes.
The next time you cross paths, it’s in the empty school garden at dusk. You’re sitting with your back against the shed, staring at nothing. Sakura stops a careful distance away. He doesn’t approach. He just sits, not looking at you, and sets down a carton of strawberry milk. Then he pulls out his own juice and drinks it in absolute silence.
You don’t run.
That becomes the pattern. He exists near you, never demanding anything. You begin to understand that this boy, with his defensive snarl and his ridiculous hair, is respecting a boundary nobody else has even noticed. You learn his silences the way you once learned a second language. The way he nudges a chair out for you. The way he growls at Suo when the teasing edges toward you. The way he somehow intercepts anyone trying to enthusiastically drag you into a crowd.
You start to feel safe. And that terrifies you.
The fighting comes out by accident.
You’re walking home—alone, because you always walk alone—when three guys from a rival school block the alley. They see the Furin uniform and decide to make a point. Your body reacts before your brain does. Years of training, of turning terror into muscle memory, snap into place. You break one man’s wrist with a twist. Your elbow meets a temple. The last one swings a pipe, and you duck, pivot, and drive your palm into his solar plexus so hard he folds. It’s over in twelve seconds.
You look up, breathing hard, and Sakura is at the mouth of the alley. He was following you, he’ll admit later, because he’s an idiot who didn’t like the look of the darkening street. He saw everything.
He’s staring. Not with fear. Not with judgment. He looks like he’s just discovered a hidden door in a house he thought he knew.
“You can fight,” he says. It’s not a question.
You can’t move. Your secret is out. Now he’ll tell everyone. Now they’ll want to see, to test you, to crowd around and watch—
“You’re amazing,” Sakura says, and his voice cracks on the word, like it’s being dragged out of him by force. His ears are bright red. “Why the hell would you hide that?”
No one has ever called you amazing. Not the old, loud you. Not the new, hollow you. The word lands in your chest and explodes.
You don’t answer. You can’t. But Sakura doesn’t push. He just falls into step beside you, a half-pace ahead, shielding you from the stares of passersby. He walks you home that night, and the night after, and the night after that.
Slowly, the story leaks out. Not because he tells anyone—Sakura would sooner die. But you start showing up. Not to the big gatherings, not yet. But when he sits on the edge of the rooftop, you sit beside him. When Nirei approaches with a sunny smile and a question about your hobbies, you stammer but don’t flee. Suo offers you a cryptic compliment, and Sakura yells at him, and you almost—almost—laugh.
The first time you speak more than two words to the group, it’s because someone threatens Sakura. A gang from out of town, looking to make a name by taking down the rising star of Furin. They ambush him in an old warehouse, eight against one. He’s holding his own, blood on his knuckles, but a metal pipe catches him behind the knee and he staggers. You see it through a grimy window. You were searching for him because he was late, and you felt that old, sick dread, the one that says people you care about leave.
You don’t think. You kick the door off its hinges.
The fight is brutal and beautiful. The rival gang has numbers and weapons, and it's the closest either of you has come to losing. But you fight together, back-to-back, and you win. Barely. When the last enemy drops, you're both on the floor. Sakura's leaning against a crate, you're slumped against the opposite wall. There's blood on his temple, a bruise blooming across your jaw. The air reeks of sweat and rust.
Silence. Just ragged breathing.
"You're safe. That's good." Barely a whisper, but he heard it, and that was enough.
Then Sakura moves. He crawls—actually crawls—across the space between you. He's too exhausted to stand. He doesn't stop until he's right in front of you, so close you can see the individual strands of white and black in his hair, the flecks of gold in his mismatched eyes. His hands hover near your shoulders, not touching.
"You—" he starts. His voice is wrecked. He swallows. "You could have died."
You open your mouth to say something—you're fine, he's fine, everyone's alive—but nothing comes out. Because he's shaking. Sakura Haruka, who faced down a gang at the top of Furin, who fought eight people at once without flinching, is trembling like a leaf. His jaw is clamped so tight you can see the muscle jumping.
"You're the only one," he says. The words are dragged out of him, one by one, like he's pulling teeth from his own soul. "The only one who... who gets it. The quiet. The..." He makes a frustrated noise, unable to articulate. His fist hits the floor weakly. "If you were gone, I'd—"
He can't finish.
And you understand. Because you feel it too. This terrifying, unnameable thing between you. It's not just friendship. It's not romance in the neat, clean way people talk about. It's being seen. Fully, unflinchingly seen by another person, and still being chosen.
You reach out. Not for his face, not for his lips. You take his hand—his bruised, bloodied knuckles—and you hold it. Just hold it. Your palm against his. Your fingers laced loosely, a question without words.
Sakura stares at your joined hands. His breath catches. His fingers curl, slowly, like he's learning a new language, and then he's gripping your hand so tightly it almost hurts. His head drops forward, forehead nearly touching your shoulder.
"Idiot," he whispers. It's the fondest word you've ever heard.
You don't talk. You didn't need to. You sit there, in the wrecked warehouse, holding hands and breathing, and it's more honest than any grand gesture could be. This is the confession: not a speech, not a dramatic embrace. A boy who can't say "I love you" saying everything with his trembling grip. A reader who can't find their voice saying everything with their presence.
When the others find you—Nirei frantic, Suo's calm cracking at the edges—you're still sitting side by side. Your shoulders are touching. His hand is still to his side trying hard not to reach yours. Nobody comments. Suo's eyes flicker down to your almost joined hands, and his smile turns knowing but gentle. Nirei starts crying with relief. Umemiya arrives and just beams, like he's seen a flower bloom in the middle of a battlefield.
In the weeks that follow, you begin to step back into the noise. You sit at the edge of the group, then inch inward. You trade a joke with Nirei and watch his face light up. You show Suo your new martial arts form. You help Umemiya plant tomatoes, your sleeves rolled up, soil under your nails, while Sakura sulks nearby because gardening is "stupid" (he waters the tomatoes every morning).
One evening, you're alone with Sakura on the rooftop. The town glows amber below. He's beside you, closer than he used to stand. There's a question hovering in the air—it's been hovering since the warehouse, since you held his hand and didn't let go.
He clears his throat. You look at him. His ears are red, but his gaze is steady.
"I, uh." He stops. Scowls. Tries again. "What I said. In the warehouse. That you're the only one who..." He can't finish. His hand opens and closes at his side.
You wait. You're good at waiting now. You've learned that silence isn't emptiness; it's space you can fill when you're ready.
"I want you to stay," he finally says. "Not just... not just in the group. With me. Near me. If you want." He's staring at the sunset like it personally offended him. "I don't know what to call it. This. Us. But I don't want it to stop."
Your heart is pounding. The old you—the loud one, the one who died in a crowd—would have laughed and hugged him and filled the silence with noise. But you're not that person anymore. You're someone new. Someone who learned that words can wait.
You lean over and rest your head on his shoulder. Lightly. A gift he can refuse.
He doesn't refuse. He goes rigid for one breath, two—then relaxes. His arm shifts, hesitant, and settles around your back. His hand doesn't grip; it rests, warm and careful, on your shoulder blade. Like you're something precious he's afraid to break.
"This," you murmur. Your voice is rusty, but it's there. "I want this."
He exhales. It sounds like relief. It sounds like home.
Below, the town bustles, safe under Furin's watch. Above, a quiet love story unfolds, built not on grand gestures but on the courage to be seen and the patience to wait until the roar fades and only the truth remains.
Small bits of you and Maddie getting closer. There are spelling errors and over uses of words, but eh I wrote this for fun and nothing serious while kicking my feet about how cool the show is while I should have been sleeping.
Warning: Accidental Kiss on the lips
The first time you meet up with him for a date,you give him roses.Five black centered around one red.He is surprised and blushes to know the black ones are for his demon hipster chicks.No one ever thinks about his special ladies and their connection to him. Mattew is touched.
“I just assumed they were a packaged deal”, you confess, scratching your head nervously. He stares at you with a blush on his face.
The Demon Hipster Chicks like you immediately.They loved the flowers by the way,and gifts you bring them.It's not like you read a book on demonology that said to bring gifts to appease demons,no no ofcourse not.
Maddie likes your knowledge. Que you pushing a few books under your bed once when he came by for the first visit.
Maddie likes a night on the town kinda dates,where he and you can get all dressed up and go to the threatre.You enjoy simple dates at the coffee shop where all the best drama spilling is at or walking the park to see where the next fight match will take place.He sees your appeal to the coffee shop,hot cocoa and front row to Scott Pilgrim turning a guy to coins is like tv.
He’ll smile over his cup at you before sipping on his hot steaming drink, a sly smile on his lips. Your insides gush at him as the barista curses from the counter again at someone else bothering her.
Oh Mattew fights,he’s got some enemies who like to challenge him.He usually wins but after you were thrown into a two vs two,he got reseted back home and you were left to pick up the coins.It was devastating on the concrete till he called you the next day.
There you were looking at the small jar of coins on your desk.Feeling like your gut was twisted,you placed a hand on the lid sadly.Then Maddie called and apologized for not being strong enough.It was the first time you yelled at him.
“Idiot,I don’t care about that!!”,you shout through the speaker.”I’m just happy you're alive!”,you continue because you thought he died.
You apologize for shouting at him later,but Mattew just hugs you.It's the first hug!
Showing him the coins makes him grimace, till you take him to the arcade. The girls like it there.
The first kiss is on his cheek and you did it out of excitement.His lovely shocked eyes stare at you as you stare at him just as shocked.Maddie holds his cheek curling his lips.
“I do believe in eye for an eye!”,he says loud enough for people to stare.
“Okay!”,you say a little too quickly.”I mean,yes please”,you say instead,covering your eyes.”I don’t mean to sound so forward..”,you mumble behind your hands.
Matthew cups your hands,easing them open.”I don’t mind”,he says softly,that blush still on his face.You swallow turning your head so he can kiss your cheek.
“Oh,right now?”,he asks,looking nervous himself.You turn obvious that he’s leaning down.The second kiss is on the lips and you both gasp, flinging back,holding your own separate mouths.
“Did we?”,he asks, blinking.
”Can we do it again?”,you ask him adding,”If you want to”.
Maddie is happy to oblige. His thumb rests on your cheek to steady himself for another kiss, one you press into happily.
It's not long before you call him ‘boyfriend’.It was a saturday and you where changing contact names on your phone for fun again.Maddie didn’t seem right anymore,so you changed his to ‘Boyfriend’.What you forgot was that Maddie was in the kitchen making tea just a few minutes ago.He was behind the couch about to ask you if you were ready for a cup and seen what you did.
“Boyfriend?”,he asks, spooking you enough to where you jump off the couch.
“Eh,well”,you scrap for an explanation.You two haven’t talked about titles like that yet.
“Alright”,Mattew nods like it's a mundane thing to talk about asking someone to be your boyfriend.”I’ll be your boyfriend”,he says with a grin.”Is that what you want?”,he adds.
“Uh yeah,I just didn’t know how to bring it up”,you confess scratching your cheek lightly.
Maddie peaks your cheek doing the unexpected.He types on his phone,showing you his phone screen,your contact there says either ‘Boyfriend’,’Girlfriend’,Or ‘Love’.
You beam from the couch holding his phone as he goes to get the tea. The Hipster Chicks are divided on sweet tea and unsweetened tea, they urge Maddie to settle the matter. Your just on the couch listening to them with a big smile on your face, it hurts but your into much bliss to care.
You are a force to be reckoned with. Maddie and the girls came to one of your wrestling matches. Its nationals and they were excited to see you kick butt. Until Scott Pilgrim got in the ring with you, Maddie wasn’t worried but did boo the guy.
Finding out your partner is a near world champ can be an ego boost for Maddie.Your hot and feared,yes please.The girls swoon at your reflexes.They cheer you on from the stands,which motivates you further than your limits.
Maddie patches you up after back at your place.A few goth hello kitty bandaids do just the job and he kisses each one to make them feel better.Now your bruised rib is a job for the girls,as they’ve helped him before with one of those and know how to tighten the gauze for that kind of injury.
He also has smoothies ready so you don’t have to sit up to eat, which is a good idea because you are quite comfortable on your bed.
Oh the first time Mad sleeps over is on the couch.You asked him to sleep over in your bed,to just sleep.Which he thought he could do but something deep inside him tells him its inappropriate and he must sleep on the couch.You don’t fight him but you do think it's sweet of him and you do want him to be comfortable so you get him your best fluffy blanket and second nicest pillow.Fixing up the couch for him,you show him the pull out feature.He sends you off with a goodnight kiss.
The girls cuddle you that night.Each one,one by one,waddle in with yawns as they fill in your bed to steal your blanket.There to out of it for you to fight there clutches for the blanket back.You give up,sitting there in the dimmed dark and go to sleep.
Maddie scowls the demons for stealing your blanket from you the next morning.Which you defend that it's fine,you were comfortable and warm.The girls are really sorry and agree with Maddie,they apologize.They think of ways to make it up to you as well.
Matthew gives you more blankets, fluffier and thicker than your favorite so this doesn’t happen again. The girls are happy to cuddle you each night if you prefer.
