Ayaka Kujou had been perfect her entire life.
Perfect grades. Perfect manners. Perfect appearance. Perfect family—wealthy, influential, the kind of people who attended charity galas and had their photos in lifestyle magazines.
At thirteen, entering Sakura Middle School, Ayaka was already everything a girl was supposed to be: beautiful, accomplished, poised. Boys stammered when she walked past. Girls either worshipped her or envied her. Teachers praised her.
She was untouchable.
Unreachable.
Lonely.
But Ayaka would never admit that. Perfect girls didn't get lonely. They didn't feel the hollowness of being admired but never truly seen. They didn't lie awake at night wondering if anyone would like them if they weren't perfect.
So she smiled her perfect smile, said her perfect words, and pretended the pedestal she stood on wasn't really a cage.
Until the day Hiro Mizuki transferred into her class.
PART 2: THE TRANSFER STUDENT
APRIL - FIRST YEAR, MIDDLE SCHOOL
"Class, we have a new student joining us today," Ms. Nakamura announced. "Please introduce yourself."
The boy who stood at the front of the classroom was... unremarkable.
Average height for a thirteen-year-old. Slightly messy dark hair. Grey eyes that didn't quite meet anyone's gaze. His uniform was neat but not expensive—clearly not from the same boutiques where Ayaka's parents shopped.
"I'm Hiro Mizuki," he said quietly, his deep voice surprising for someone his age. "Nice to meet you."
That was it. No elaborate backstory. No attempts to impress. Just five words and a small, polite bow.
Ms. Nakamura assigned him the empty seat beside Kenji, two rows behind Ayaka.
She barely noticed him.
For the first week, Hiro was invisible.
He didn't join any clubs. Didn't try to make friends. Ate lunch alone on the roof. Disappeared immediately after school.
He was polite when spoken to but never initiated conversation. He excelled academically—top five in their class—but never raised his hand or volunteered answers.
It was like he was trying very, very hard not to be noticed.
Most students forgot he existed after a few days.
Ayaka noticed only because she noticed everything—it was part of being perfect, being aware of her surroundings, her competition, her social landscape.
But Hiro Mizuki? He wasn't competition. He barely registered as human, just a quiet ghost haunting the edges of her perfect world.
And then came the incident.
PART 3: THE RAIN
MAY - THREE WEEKS AFTER TRANSFER
Ayaka stayed late after school for student council duties—she was vice president, naturally, already positioning herself for presidency next year.
By the time the meeting ended, rain poured from dark clouds, violent and sudden the way spring storms could be.
Perfect, Ayaka thought bitterly, staring at the downpour from under the school's entrance overhang. She'd forgotten her umbrella. Her driver wouldn't arrive for another thirty minutes. Her phone was dead.
She was stranded.
Other students huddled under the overhang with her, sharing umbrellas, laughing about getting wet, making it seem fun and spontaneous and—
Why can't I do that?
Ayaka wrapped her arms around herself. Perfect girls didn't get rained on. Didn't show up at home soaked and disheveled. Didn't have mascara running down their faces like—
"Kujou-san?"
She turned.
Hiro Mizuki stood a few feet away, holding a plain black umbrella. Rain dripped from his hair—he'd clearly been caught in the downpour himself.
"You're... Mizuki-kun?" She barely remembered his name.
"You don't have an umbrella," he observed. Not a question. Just a fact.
"My driver will be here soon."
"It's supposed to rain for another two hours." Hiro glanced at the sky, then back at her. "You'll be waiting a while."
Ayaka bristled. "I'll be fine."
"I'm sure you will." Hiro started to walk away, then paused. Turned back. "But you don't have to be uncomfortable while you wait."
He held out his umbrella.
Ayaka stared at it. "What?"
"Take it. I don't live far. I can run."
"I can't—" She stopped. Perfect girls didn't accept charity. Didn't put others out. Didn't need help. "I'll be fine," she repeated.
Hiro looked at her for a long moment, his grey eyes unreadable.
Then he did something that would replay in Ayaka's mind for years:
He smiled.
Not the simpering, eager-to-please smiles boys usually gave her. Not the calculated, social-ladder-climbing smiles she saw at her parents' parties.
Just... gentle. Kind. Like he actually cared whether she got wet, and it had nothing to do with her last name or her face or her perfect reputation.
"Okay," he said softly. "But if you change your mind—"
He set the umbrella down beside her and walked into the rain.
Ayaka watched him go, watched him sprint through the downpour with his bag held over his head, his uniform getting soaked, and something in her chest—something she'd locked away behind perfect smiles and perfect manners—cracked.
When had anyone ever given her something expecting nothing in return?
When had anyone ever looked at her like she was a person who might need help, rather than a perfect doll who had everything?
When had anyone ever been kind to her without wanting something?
She picked up the umbrella, her hands shaking slightly.
The next day, she returned it to him with a carefully prepared thank-you speech.
Hiro had accepted it with that same quiet smile, said "You're welcome," and gone back to being invisible.
But Ayaka couldn't unsee him anymore.
The morning light filtered through Hiro's bedroom window in pale golden streams, cutting across his face like accusatory fingers. He turned away from it, pulling the blanket over his head, but there was no escaping what waited for him in the waking world.
Sleep had been impossible. Every time he'd closed his eyes, he saw her face—Luna's expression twisted in hurt and rage, her voice echoing through his skull like shattered glass.
*"I hate you. I hope you die in a pit."*
Hiro threw off the covers and sat up, running both hands through his disheveled hair. His body ached as though he'd been fighting all night, which in a way, he had. Fighting memories. Fighting guilt. Fighting the gnawing emptiness in his chest that her words had carved out.
The clock on his nightstand read 6:47 AM. School started in an hour and a half.
He dragged himself to the bathroom on autopilot, his feet shuffling across the cold hardwood floor. The mirror over the sink reflected someone he barely recognized—dark semicircles beneath bloodshot eyes, skin pale as parchment, jaw tight with tension that had never fully released since yesterday.
Hiro leaned closer to the glass, studying his own face as if it might hold answers. He tried to smile, forcing his lips upward in what he hoped looked normal, human, *fine.*
The smile crumbled immediately, leaving him looking more miserable than before.
"Pathetic," he muttered, turning away from his reflection in disgust.
The shower was cold—deliberately so. Hiro stood under the frigid spray until his skin went numb, until the shock of it drove everything else from his mind. But the moment he stepped out and the water stopped pounding against his skull, the thoughts came rushing back.
What had he done to deserve Luna's hatred? He'd been attacked by assassins, nearly killed, and then Ayaka had kissed him without warning or permission. None of it had been his choice. None of it had been his fault.
But try telling that to the ache in his chest. Try telling that to the part of him that understood exactly why Luna had been hurt, regardless of fault or intention.
He dressed mechanically—school uniform, buttons fastened wrong the first time and requiring a second attempt. His hands wouldn't stop trembling. He picked up his school bag, checked that his books were inside without really seeing them, then headed downstairs.
His mother stood at the kitchen counter, humming something soft and cheerful as she buttered toast. The normalcy of it—the pure, untouched domesticity—felt almost obscene against the chaos churning inside him.
"Good morning, sweetheart!" She turned with a bright smile that dimmed the moment she saw him. "Oh, Hiro. You look terrible."
"Thanks, Mom," he said flatly.
"I didn't mean it like that. I meant you look unwell. Are you feeling alright? Do you have a fever?" She moved toward him, one hand already reaching for his forehead.
Hiro stepped back. "I'm fine. Just didn't sleep great."
"Was it a nightmare?"
*You could say that.*
"Something like that. I'm okay, really."
His mother studied him with that particular maternal intensity that could dissect lies at twenty paces. For a moment, Hiro thought she might press harder, might demand the truth he couldn't give.
Instead, she sighed softly and returned to the counter. "There's toast if you want some. And I made your favorite tea."
"I'm not hungry. Thanks though."
"Hiro—"
"I need to go or I'll be late. Love you, Mom."
He was out the door before she could respond, closing it firmly behind him and cutting off whatever concern or comfort she'd been about to offer. He couldn't handle kindness right now. Kindness would crack him open, and he couldn't afford to break. Not yet.
The walk to Seika Academy passed in a blur. Hiro's feet carried him along the familiar route while his mind spiraled through endless permutations of the same catastrophic thoughts. Should he try to talk to Luna? Would she even listen? Maybe he should give her space. But what if space became permanent distance? What if she never forgave him?
What if she was right to hate him?
The school gates loomed ahead, already crowded with students filtering through in chattering clusters. Hiro joined the flow, letting the crowd carry him forward. Faces passed by—some familiar, some strangers—but none of them registered. He was moving through the world like a ghost, present but not really *there.*
The hallway inside was worse. Louder. The voices pressed in from all sides, a cacophony of teenage energy that grated against his frayed nerves. Normally, Hiro could filter it out, tune down the enhanced senses that came with his beast blood. Today, everything felt amplified, raw, too much.
He kept his head down and navigated toward his locker, trying to blend into the walls.
And then he saw her.
Luna stood near her own locker about twenty feet away, her white wolf ears visible above the crowd. She was talking to Kaede, her posture tight and uncertain. Her tail hung low, barely moving. Even from this distance, Hiro could read the distress in every line of her body.
His chest constricted painfully.
He should go to her. Apologize properly. Explain what had really happened with Ayaka. Make her understand that she mattered more to him than anyone else in this entire school, this entire world—
Hiro started forward, weaving between students, closing the distance one step at a time.
And that was when he smelled it.
At first, it was subtle. Just a whisper of scent beneath the usual school odors of paper, cleaning products, and too many bodies in too small a space. Sweet. Warm. Distinctly *hers.*
Hiro took another step.
The scent grew stronger, wrapping around him like silk, like smoke, like something he couldn't name but desperately needed.
Another step.
Heat bloomed in his chest—sudden, intense, spreading through his bloodstream like liquid fire. His heart rate spiked, going from normal to racing in the span of a single breath. His hands began to shake for entirely different reasons than before.
*What—?*
Another step closer.
The scent intensified impossibly, filling his lungs, saturating his brain. It wasn't just sweet anymore. It was *intoxicating.* Overwhelming. It bypassed every rational thought and spoke directly to something deeper, something primal that had nothing to do with his human consciousness.
Hiro's vision wavered. The crowded hallway seemed to narrow into a tunnel, everything fading to grey except for one focal point: Luna.
His breathing went ragged. His body temperature spiked so high that sweat beaded on his forehead despite the morning chill. His mouth watered involuntarily, and a hunger unlike anything he'd ever experienced clawed its way up from the pit of his stomach—not hunger for food, but for *her,* for proximity, for something he didn't understand but couldn't resist.
Beneath his skin, the beast stirred.
*No. Not here. Not now. Control it.*
His eyes began to burn, and Hiro knew without looking that they were changing, gold bleeding into grey like dawn overtaking night.
He tried to stop walking. Tried to turn away. Tried to do *anything* other than continue moving toward Luna like a moth drawn to flame.
His feet wouldn't obey.
*Control it. Control it. CONTROL IT.*
The heat kept building. His vision blurred further. Everything that made him human, everything that made him *Hiro,* was being shoved aside by raw instinct.
Then a hand landed on his shoulder, solid and real and grounding.
"Yo, Hiro! You good, man?"
Takeshi's grinning face materialized beside him, obliviously cheerful. The physical contact was like a bucket of ice water. It shocked Hiro back into his body, gave him just enough presence of mind to wrench control away from the beast.
The golden glow faded from his eyes. The heat receded to a manageable simmer instead of a roaring inferno. Hiro sucked in a desperate breath, forcing his lungs to work normally.
"Y-yeah," he managed, his voice coming out rough and strained. "I'm fine."
Takeshi's grin faltered slightly. "You sure? You look kinda out of it. And you're sweating like crazy."
"Just... didn't sleep well. I'm okay."
"Man, you gotta take better care of yourself. Late night gaming or something?"
"Something like that."
Takeshi clapped him on the shoulder one more time—another grounding touch that helped keep the beast at bay—then wandered off toward his own locker, already distracted by something else.
Hiro stood frozen in the middle of the hallway, students flowing around him like water around a stone. His hands were still shaking. His heart was still racing. And Luna's scent still called to him, a siren song he barely had the strength to resist.
*What was that? Why did her scent affect me like that? That's never happened before—*
"Hiro!"
Kaede's voice cut through his spiraling thoughts. He looked up to find her waving enthusiastically, beckoning him over.
Luna's head turned at the sound of his name. Their eyes met for half a second—gold meeting grey—before she quickly looked away, her ears flattening against her skull.
Hiro's chest ached all over again.
He approached slowly, carefully, keeping his breathing steady and his distance respectful. The scent was still there, still potent, but he was ready for it now. He could manage it. He could *control* it.
He had to.
Kaede leaned close to Luna and whispered—though not quietly enough to escape Hiro's enhanced hearing. "You should go talk to him."
"I don't know if I can," Luna murmured back, her fingers twisting anxiously in the strap of her bag. "I said such awful things yesterday. What if he won't forgive me? What if he—"
"Luna, relax! I know my cousin better than anyone in the world, and trust me, he never stays mad for long. Just talk to him, okay? You'll feel better."
"But—"
Before Luna could finish her protest, Kaede placed both hands firmly on her back and *shoved.*
Luna stumbled forward with a startled yelp, her arms windmilling briefly before she caught her balance directly in front of Hiro.
They stood face-to-face in the middle of the hallway, close enough that he could count the flecks of amber in her golden eyes, close enough that her scent wrapped around him like a physical embrace.
Hiro's heart stuttered.
Luna stared at the floor, her tail swishing in nervous arcs behind her. He could hear her heartbeat—rapid and anxious, like a frightened rabbit's. Could see the way her hands trembled slightly where they clutched her bag strap.
The silence stretched between them, fragile and terrible.
Finally, Luna took a shaky breath and spoke, her words tumbling out in a rush. "Um... I—I'm really sorry about what I said yesterday! I didn't mean any of it, I swear! I was just upset and angry and I said horrible things that I shouldn't have said and I'm *so, so sorry,* Hiro!"
Her voice cracked on his name, and tears shimmered in her eyes—unshed but threatening to spill over at any moment.
Hiro felt something break inside his chest. She was apologizing? After everything, after *he* was the one who'd hurt her, she thought she needed to apologize?
"Luna, it's okay," he said gently, carefully, as if speaking to something precious and fragile. "You don't need to apologize. I'm the one who's sorry. I should have explained better about what happened with Ayaka. I should have made you understand that it wasn't—"
And then it happened.
The scent hit him like a tidal wave, ten times stronger than before. Not sweet anymore—*devastating.* It crashed over every sense, drowning rational thought, obliterating self-control.
Heat exploded through Hiro's body with volcanic intensity. His muscles locked up. His breath came in sharp, ragged gasps that burned his throat. His vision swam, the hallway tilting sickeningly.
His eyes flared pure gold, fully transformed, the human grey completely consumed.
*No. No, no, no—not now, not in front of her—*
The temperature around them spiked dramatically. Students nearby began fanning themselves, tugging at their collars, glancing around in confusion at the sudden, inexplicable heat wave.
Hiro staggered backward, both hands clutching at his chest as if he could physically hold the beast inside, trap it behind his ribs where it belonged. But it was too strong. Too insistent. Too *hungry.*
Black claws began pushing through his fingertips, sharp and deadly. His canines elongated into fangs that cut into his lower lip. His entire body trembled violently as human will and animal instinct waged war inside his skin.
And he wasn't looking at Luna like a friend.
He wasn't looking at her like prey.
He was looking at her like something his beast *needed,* in a way that terrified him because he didn't understand it, couldn't name it, couldn't control it.
"Hiro?" Luna's voice seemed to come from very far away, muffled and distorted. "Hiro, what's wrong?"
She stepped closer, worry overriding self-preservation, one hand reaching toward him.
That small gesture of concern—that evidence that she still cared despite everything—cut through the haze just enough for Hiro to see himself through her eyes.
A monster barely restrained. Golden eyes wild and unfocused. Claws extended. Fangs bared. Radiating danger and heat and wrongness.
Terror flashed across her face.
*Stop. I have to stop. I'm scaring her. STOP.*
But the beast didn't stop.
Hiro lurched forward, his legs moving without permission. He wasn't attacking—some distant part of his mind knew that much—he was trying to steady himself, trying to grab onto something solid before he collapsed completely.
His hands shot out toward Luna's shoulders.
His claws—extended, razor-sharp, beyond his control—grazed her upper arm.
Three thin lines of red appeared on her pale skin, welling up immediately.
Luna gasped, jerking backward on pure instinct. Her own beast responded to the threat, her hand lashing out reflexively with claws extended.
Four parallel scratches opened across Hiro's throat, bright red against pale flesh.
The pain was sharp and immediate and *clarifying.*
The shock of it—the physical jolt combined with the horrifying realization of what he'd just done—slammed Hiro back into his own mind with brutal force.
The gold drained from his eyes, leaving grey behind. The claws retracted. The fangs receded. The heat dissipated like steam.
He stared at Luna, fully conscious now, fully aware.
She stared back, her hand still raised, her own claws bloodied with his blood.
Both of them frozen. Both of them horrified.
The hallway had gone quiet around them. Students had stopped mid-conversation, staring at the two beast-bloods standing in a tableau of violence neither had intended.
For one terrible, eternal moment, no one moved.
Then Hiro turned and ran.
He didn't think. Didn't plan. Just ran.
His legs pumped mechanically, carrying him away from Luna's shocked expression, away from the blood on her arm and his throat, away from the concerned and frightened faces of witnesses.
Students scrambled out of his path as he barreled through the hallway. Someone shouted his name—Kaede, maybe, or Takeshi—but he didn't stop. Couldn't stop.
His hand pressed against his bleeding neck, warm blood seeping between his fingers, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the agony crushing his chest.
*I hurt her. I almost—I could have—*
The bathroom door slammed open under his shoulder. Hiro stumbled to the nearest sink and gripped the porcelain edge hard enough to crack it, his whole body heaving.
His stomach revolted violently. He vomited into the basin, retching until there was nothing left, his body trying desperately to purge something that lived too deep to be expelled.
When the spasms finally stopped, Hiro turned on the faucet with shaking hands. Cold water rushed out, and he splashed it over his face again and again, gasping, desperate to wash away the heat, the shame, the absolute *wrongness* of what had just happened.
"What is happening to me?" he whispered to his reflection in the mirror.
The boy looking back offered no answers. Just blood on his neck, terror in his eyes, and the unmistakable look of someone who'd lost control of the monster inside.
Hiro's knees buckled. He slid down to sit on the cold tile floor, back against the wall, head in his hands.
The bathroom door creaked open.
"Occupied," Hiro croaked without looking up.
Footsteps approached anyway. Stopped a few feet away.
"Hiro."
Kaede's voice, gentle but firm.
"Go away," he said.
"Not happening." She crouched down beside him, studying his face with those sharp, perceptive eyes. "Let me see your neck."
"It's fine."
"You're bleeding through your fingers. It's not fine."
Reluctantly, Hiro lowered his hand. The scratches weren't deep—Luna had pulled back at the last second—but they'd still drawn blood.
Kaede pulled paper towels from the dispenser and wet them, then carefully cleaned the wounds. Her touch was clinical, efficient, but not unkind.
"What happened out there?" she asked quietly.
"I don't know."
"Hiro—"
"I said I don't know!" The words came out harsher than intended. He took a breath, forcing himself to speak more calmly. "I've never... her scent, it was like... I couldn't control it, Kaede. I couldn't control *myself.*"
Kaede was silent for a long moment, her hands stilling on his neck.
"You need to talk to your dad," she finally said.
"What?"
"Your dad. The full-blooded beast. If anyone knows what's happening to you, it's him."
Hiro wanted to argue, but she was right. He knew she was right.
"Is Luna okay?" he asked instead.
"The scratches were shallow. She'll be fine." Kaede paused. "Physically, anyway."
That qualifier hurt worse than his own wounds.
"She's terrified of me now," Hiro said flatly. "Isn't she?"
"She's confused. Scared. But not of you, I don't think. More scared *for* you." Kaede finished cleaning his neck and sat back on her heels. "She cares about you, you idiot. Even after everything."
Those words should have brought comfort. Instead, they just made everything hurt more.
"I need to go home," Hiro said, pushing himself to his feet.
"You're just going to leave? School's barely started."
"I can't be here. Not today. Tell the teachers I'm sick. Tell them whatever you want."
Kaede stood as well, worry creasing her forehead. "Will you at least text me later? Let me know you're okay?"
"Yeah. Maybe."
"Hiro—"
But he was already moving toward the door, toward escape, toward anywhere that wasn't here.
The side exit was mercifully empty. Hiro slipped through it and into the bright morning sunshine that felt accusatory and wrong. He kept to back streets and alleys where no one would see him, where he could be invisible, where he could fall apart without witnesses.
His house appeared through the gaps between buildings like a mirage. The key trembled in his hand as he unlocked the door. The hallway was dark and quiet—his mother at work, the house empty.
Perfect.
Hiro locked the door behind him, kicked off his shoes, and climbed the stairs on legs that felt like lead. His bedroom door closed with a bang that echoed through the empty house.
He collapsed onto his bed fully clothed, curling into himself, pressing his palms against his eyes hard enough to see stars.
But he couldn't block out the memories. Couldn't unsee Luna's fear. Couldn't unfeel the beast clawing inside him, demanding things he didn't understand.
His hand drifted to his neck, fingers tracing the four shallow scratches she'd left. They stung, but the pain was negligible compared to everything else.
"This is what I deserve," he whispered to the empty room. "This is the price for almost hurting her."
His fingers curled into fists, nails—blunt and human now—digging into his palms.
"I hate myself."
The words settled into the silence like stones dropping into still water.
oblivious rotation. Cars drove past. Birds sang. People went about their normal, uncomplicated lives.
Inside that darkened bedroom, Hiro Mizuki lay alone with the monster in his skin, haunted by what he'd almost done, terrified of what he might still become.
Outside, the world continued its