The air in the ruined kitchen was thick with the smell of ozone and wet pavement. Yasuo stood there, his lips still tingling from the rain-soaked kiss, but his brain was racing at a hundred miles per hour.
Twenty minutes. In twenty minutes, Kaede Natsumi—the woman who looked at Daisetsu like he was a prize trophy—was going to blow up their entire world.
"Tenshin, tell me you can stop it," Daisetsu said, his voice dropping into that terrifyingly calm tone he used right before a fight. He walked over to the prep table, his wet shirt clinging to the ridges of his back muscles.
Tenshin cracked his knuckles, his fingers flying across the laptop keys. "I'm all good, Nakamura, but I'm not a magician. She's already drafted the email to the Superintendent and the School Board. She's got scans of your old arrest record—the one from the underground circuit five years ago."
Yasuo flinched. Underground circuit? He knew Daisetsu was a fighter, but the word "underground" made it sound so much darker.
"She's bitter, Daisetsu," Tenshin continued, not looking up. "She saw you two in the alley. She's not just reporting a teacher; she's trying to delete the competition."
"I'm not 'competition'," Yasuo snapped, his shy persona finally burning away under the pressure. "I'm his partner. And I'm not letting some jealous lady ruin his career because she can't take a hint."
Daisetsu turned to look at Yasuo. There was a flicker of pure admiration in his eyes—the kind of look a king gives his consort before a battle. He stepped close, ignoring Tenshin, and put his hands on Yasuo's shoulders.
"Yasuo, listen to me," Daisetsu whispered. "If this goes out, I'm done. Not just at the school. My record... it's not pretty. I did things to survive before I became a teacher. Things that don't look good on a resume."
"I don't care about your resume," Yasuo said, reaching up to cover Daisetsu's hands with his own. "I care about you. We have eighteen minutes left. Tenshin, what do we do?"
Tenshin smirked. "She's using the school's internal server. If we can get someone physically into the server room to trigger a manual reboot, it'll kill the outgoing mail queue for exactly five minutes. That's enough time for me to remote-wipe her draft folder."
Daisetsu grabbed his jacket. "The school is ten minutes away if I run."
"I'm coming with you," Yasuo said instantly.
"No, it's too—"
"Daisetsu, shut up and let's go!" Yasuo pulled on his own soaked hoodie. "I know the back entrance to the gym. It's closer to the server room."
They bolted out the back door, leaving Tenshin to work his digital magic. The rain was still coming down, turning the streets of Komorebi City into a blurred mess of gray and silver. They ran like their lives depended on it—because they did.
Daisetsu was a beast. Even after a fight and being soaked to the bone, he didn't slow down. He kept one hand firmly gripped around Yasuo's, pulling him along, his "Stoic Protector" instincts dialed up to eleven.
They reached the school's back fence. Daisetsu scaled it in one move, then reached down, his powerful arms grabbing Yasuo by the waist and hoisting him over like he weighed nothing. The physical strength of the man was insane; Yasuo felt a thrill go through him even in the middle of the panic.
"Six minutes left!" Yasuo checked his phone, his voice gasping for air.
They sprinted through the dark hallways. The school felt haunted at night, the lockers looking like rows of silent witnesses. They reached the server room in the basement. Locked.
"Stand back," Daisetsu ordered. He didn't look for a key. He just lowered his shoulder and slammed into the door with a sickening THUD. On the second hit, the frame splintered, and the door swung open.
Inside, the room was humming with the sound of cooling fans and blinking blue lights.
"The red switch! Tenshin said the red switch on the main rack!" Yasuo shouted.
Daisetsu found it. He flipped the guard and slammed the switch down. The humming stopped instantly. The blue lights turned red, then went dark.
"Tenshin! We did it!" Yasuo yelled into his phone.
"I see it! The queue is frozen. Hang on... I'm in her account... deleting... deleting... AND IT'S GONE." Tenshin's voice sounded triumphant over the speaker. "The draft is deleted, and I've put a 'corrupt file' tag on her backup. She's got nothing."
Yasuo slumped against a server rack, his heart hammering so hard it hurt. "We did it. We actually did it."
Daisetsu didn't move. He was standing in the dark room, his chest heaving, his eyes fixed on Yasuo. The tension from the chase, the adrenaline from the break-in, and the relief of the victory all crashed together into something explosive.
He walked over to Yasuo. The server room was cramped, narrow, and smelled like warm plastic and electricity. Daisetsu pinned Yasuo against the server rack, his hands coming up to frame Yasuo's face.
"You're amazing," Daisetsu growled, his voice thick with a mix of relief and pure, unadulterated lust.
"I was just... following the plan," Yasuo whispered, his breath hitching.
"No. You fought for me." Daisetsu leaned in, his nose brushing against Yasuo's. "Nobody has ever fought for me like that. Not without wanting something back."
"I do want something back," Yasuo teased, his voice gaining that bold edge again.
Daisetsu didn't wait. He crashed his lips onto Yasuo's. This kiss was different from the one in the rain. This one was victory. This one was ownership. Daisetsu's hands slid down Yasuo's back, pulling him flush against his hard, damp body. Yasuo could feel every inch of the teacher's strength—the core that lifted flour sacks, the legs that ran through the rain, the heart that was finally opening up.
Daisetsu's hands found the hem of Yasuo's hoodie, sliding underneath to touch the warm skin of his lower back. Yasuo let out a soft moan into the kiss, his fingers tangling in the damp hair at the nape of Daisetsu's neck.
The "bromance" was officially over. This was a fire that couldn't be put out.
They were so lost in each other that they didn't hear the footsteps in the hallway.
The server room door, already broken, creaked open further. The harsh beam of a flashlight cut through the dark, hitting them directly.
"Nakamura-sensei?" a high, trembling voice asked.
Yasuo and Daisetsu froze, squinting into the light.
It wasn't a teacher. It wasn't the police.
It was Yuka Iroha, Yasuo's childhood friend and the school's star reporter for the student newspaper. She was holding a digital camera, and the "REC" light was blinking bright red.
"Yasuo?" she whispered, her voice full of shock. "What are you doing here with Sensei... like that?"