Chapter Text
Noritoshi Kamo has a small dick.
But Megumi doesn’t necessarily fault the guy for it.
Everyone has their pros and their cons—their assets and liabilities—it just so happens that his husband's cock is (unfortunately) not on the ‘pros’ or ‘assets’ side of the list. It’s a shame that life couldn’t have offered something better to Megumi.
However, Noritoshi is nice enough in all the ways a husband should be. He doesn’t roll his eyes when Megumi nags him to clean up after himself, because yeah, they have about half a dozen housekeepers, but it’s still rude to leave a mess. He doesn’t raise his voice or forcibly reach for him when Megumi pulls away while they are in bed at night. It’s easier to let the moment die than invite the predictable, disappointing sex that’ll happen between them. Noritoshi goes to work and comes back home, and probably doesn’t fuck other people while he’s away on business trips. Not that Megumi would care.
At least one of them would be getting laid.
Being married off at the ripe age of sixteen to a beta from a powerful clan was everything his family wanted—for him, for themselves. It was an alliance. An alliance that no one asked Megumi if he wanted. Not that he ever expected them to, considering his sex. Having rights and a say beyond ‘what do you want to wear today, Megumi?’ or ‘would you like the room hotter or colder, Megumi?’ or ‘when are you going to give your husband a pup, Megumi?’ seems so far out of the realm of possibilities that he can’t begin to comprehend it as a potential reality.
Now he’s stuck on this huge estate, in this magnificent house, with his husband’s side of the family, miles and miles away from where he grew up. Sure, he has what ninety-nine percent of other omegas want, but this sure as hell isn’t what Megumi wants. Being locked away in a house with no purpose other than watching the sun rise and fall loses its charm after the first few days, if he even found it charming to begin with. There are only so many shades of orange, pink, purple, and red that he can ooh and ah over before his existence feels futile, and he deliberates whether he should jump off the roof of the manor or not.
So far, it’s been a resounding no, but Megumi has nothing if not a wide expanse of time in his future, so that can change.
Often, he feels like one of those useless princesses in the bedtime stories his mother would read him, imprisoned in a tower while they watch life go on without them. Except there’s no Prince Charming, and subsequently, no chance of escaping his fate. That was sealed the minute he was born.
At least he has someone he can trust, someone he—
“You’re staring off into space again,” his handmaid says, shaking his shoulder. It jolts him out of his thoughts and sends him hurtling back into the present with the same velocity as a comet sweeping across the sky. “This isn’t like you, ‘Gumi. What’s gotten into you lately? You’re not—“
“Shh, Nobara,” Megumi hisses and puts a finger over her lips to silence her. “My favorite show is on.”
Outside, laboring in the hot, summer sun, is no other than the nameless gardener that the Kamo Clan hired six months ago. He’s out there working most days, perfectly visible from Megumi’s room—having his room and board given to him in the form of a modest cottage on the far corner of the Kamo estate (or so Megumi has heard). Megumi’s had his eye on him since the very beginning. There aren’t many alphas around, especially ones that are allowed to work on clan grounds. The former gardener, an old beta, vouched for his replacement. Although Megumi never had the chance to speak to the man before he retired, he has to assume that the former gardener gave a convincing rationale in favor of the alpha. Otherwise, there’s no way in hell he’d be working here and living here. Not with the Kamo Clan’s precious omegas around. Fucking yuck.
Megumi spends most of his days gazing out of the window at him, sighing like a young girl with a crush, and not like a married nineteen-year-old. The way the alpha’s biceps flex as he digs new spots for the tulips that Noritoshi’s mother requested be planted makes Megumi want to kiss her out of sheer gratitude.
And he normally hates that bitch.
The alpha’s built. Tall, with broad shoulders, strong, pronounced muscles, and what must be a massive—
It’s a harmless crush. Harmless. It isn’t like Megumi’s going to get the opportunity to meet the guy. Smell him. Nothing like that. No extramarital affairs will occur between the two of them. Nope.
It remains a mystery as to what the alpha looks like, too. He’s always wearing a baseball hat while he’s outside to shield his eyes from the blazing sun. And honestly, Megumi is inclined to believe that there doesn’t exist a world in which someone with that solid of a build also has a handsome face to match. The universe doesn’t operate that way. Not even for alphas.
“This isn’t healthy,” Nobara murmurs as she tries to pull him away from the window. “Megumi, you’re married. Do you know how much trouble you can get in for this? How much trouble that alpha can get in? Don’t be a dumbass.”
Megumi yanks his arm back, scowling. “For what? The crime of peering outside? God forbid I have one thing to look forward to during my otherwise monotonous day. God fucking forbid I have an activity—a hobby—that doesn’t revolve around being a tame little housewife to a man who’s never home. At least you could leave this place if you wanted to, Nobara. At least you were born a beta and not some stupid, useless, worthless—“
“Shut up,” Nobara interrupts and smacks him over the head for good measure. Her voice lands sharp and cold, and it sends a shiver down Megumi’s spine. “As if I’d ever leave you here to rot. If you’re stuck here, then I’m stuck here. That’s the deal we made when you came here three years ago.”
That gives him pause.
When he moved here, he was scared, and even that’s an understatement. Not much can frighten Megumi Fushiguro, but being sold to a clan he didn’t know, brought over here in the dead of night, and then shoved into bed with a beta he didn’t have a chance to get acquainted with, takes the cake as the most terrifying experience of his life.
Megumi likes to think that his mother resisted the idea, and only gave in when his father insisted on it, but truthfully, he can’t know for sure. He wasn’t given the chance to speak to his parents—not even to say goodbye—before he was sent off to his new home. To this day, he doesn’t know why. Must’ve been the strange idea that skipping the farewell portion would make this easier on Megumi. How self-sacrificing.
They could not have been more wrong.
Megumi still writes to his mother, and she always writes him back. But it’s different. They aren’t close like they used to be, thanks to his father. His mother makes empty promises that they’ll visit, but it never comes to fruition. It just stays as a distant concept. A dream that keeps him going when the nights get especially dark.
The best thing to come out of this was Nobara. They’ve been attached at the hip since he showed up, and Megumi isn’t sure whether he would’ve survived this long without her.
“Is this really all there is to life?” Megumi asks. It comes out as barely a whisper. “This is my third summer here, and it’s already like every single summer before it.”
Nobara wraps an arm loosely around his shoulders, yet he catches what she’s trying to hide. Her face—the defeat in it. The resignation. The yes, and I’m trapped here, too.
Running her fingers through his hair, she says, “I can’t answer that, ‘Gumi. Let’s just make the most of today, okay? How does that sound?”
“It sounds like you’re sick and tired of my catastrophic thinking.”
She lets out a soft huff, half-laugh, half-exhale. The warm air tickles the top of his head, and despite the unbearable heat, he leans in further.
The alpha downstairs slides his hat off and wipes the back of his hand across his forehead. He’s facing away from the window, so the only thing Megumi can discern is the pink, wavy hair. Turn around, turn around, turn around, Megumi internally pleads—hoping that the alpha will telepathically hear him and rotate his body, so that Megumi can finally gaze upon his face. But luck’s a fickle bitch, and Megumi nearly groans as he watches the alpha put the hat back on and get back to work.
“Do you think he’s thirsty?” Megumi asks, tilting his head enough to glance at Nobara from under his eyelashes.
“Megumi.” She pinches his tricep, and fuck, her nails really dig into the fleshy area. “The only person who’s thirsty around here is you. Knock it off. If the guy wants a glass of water, I’ll go out there and give him one. Maybe I can even learn his name.”
Megumi’s response is automatic—instantaneous. He’s so excited about the prospect of learning the alpha’s name that Nobara’s response seems fair. Reasonable, even. Normally, he’d give her shit for ordering him around, but he can’t find it in himself to care.
“Really? You’d do that for me?”
These are the times in which Megumi is reminded of how loyal and wonderful a friend Nobara is to him. Even when he, arguably, doesn’t deserve it. Here he is, whimpering over some alpha whose face he’s never seen, and trying to guilt Nobara into doing his dirty work.
It is strange that she has supposedly never met him before…
Nobara doesn’t answer right away and opts to continue petting his head, a furrow to her brow. “Maybe taking some of the mystery out of the equation will make him less appealing.”
“Sure,” Megumi says, not agreeing at all.
She could inform him that the alpha is the most hideous, revolting man on the face of the earth, and Megumi wouldn’t believe her because she’s not even attracted to men. Why would he trust her opinion on anything? No, he has to see the alpha with his own eyes before he makes any conclusions.
“Can you—“
“No,” Nobara sniffs, narrowing her eyes. “I can’t take you on a walk outside. Your heat is coming up, and the last thing you need is for it to be triggered by that sexy—“
“So you admit it,” Megumi says, recoiling from her. “He is handsome. You have seen him. You probably even know his name, don’t you?”
Of course she knows who he is—they probably interact with each other multiple times a week. Shit—it wouldn’t shock Megumi if she were the one who was partially responsible for hiring the guy.
Part of Nobara’s job is to act as Megumi’s controlled point of access. No one speaks directly to him, unless Nobara (or his husband) permits it. That means she interacts with the other staff and oversees most of the servants who live and work in the manor.
“He probably has a mate and a billion pups at home,” Megumi laments, hands grasping at the cushion he’s sitting on. He could tear it up—scatter the down feathers across the room. Make a mess. Throw a tantrum. “I bet he knots her every night. Which, like, good for her, but why couldn’t it be me?”
Nobara rolls her eyes—makes it real obvious, too.
“Not to participate in gender essentialism, but you are seriously acting like you’re about to start your heat. This pining has got to stop, Megumi. It’s driving me nuts. Alpha-this, alpha-that—how about I get alpha here and you can call for me when your brain stops oozing out of your orifices.”
That can’t be right. He touches the back of his hand to his forehead. No fever. No other symptoms that would indicate that he’s going into heat, other than the way he’s been wistfully sitting at the window on the banquette at all hours of the day. But he also did that while on his heat suppressants.
“The suppressants aren’t supposed to wear off that fast,” Megumi tells her, like she doesn’t already know. Like she doesn’t know every single detail of his life, down to the last date and time that Noritoshi fucked him (and the position). Apparently keeping track of that is crucial to conceiving.
She was the one who accompanied him to the doctor last month because Noritoshi was, big fucking shocker, gone on business. How exactly either of them is supposed to conceive a pup by this point in their marriage without sleeping in the same bed more than a few times a month is beyond him.
The doctor gave his usual spiel. Eat healthy. Exercise. Make sure your husband is dumping his load into you as much as possible. Romantic stuff like that. Megumi nods along, hoping against hope that he comes across as a dumb omega and not someone trying their damndest to avoid getting pregnant.
Not that Megumi doesn’t want pups. He just doesn’t want them with Noritoshi.
The only good that will transpire from Megumi having pups with Noritoshi is that they’ll have an extremely high likelihood of being betas. Not that Megumi believes in the inherent ‘eliteness’ of betas. But he is aware of the fact that betas have always, and will always, be treated better than their counterparts. They’ll be at the top of the food chain until the end of time, whether he likes it or not.
Being an omega or an alpha means that everyone else assumes you’re a victim of your baser instincts—more emotionally and hormonally driven than logical. It’s all baseless, of course, yet that doesn’t stop people from treating Megumi as no better than some breeding machine. Someone with no frontal lobe—no ability to think rationally.
In an ideal world, Megumi wants at least four pups. Possibly more. Create his own family. One that won’t toss him aside, and sell him to some other fucking clan on the other side of the fucking country—
He squeezes his eyes shut. Sighs.
It’s futile to get angry over it. What’s done is done, and he’s sure the Zenins are reaping the benefits of the small fortune they received for him. Selling a person’s body, even under the guise of a ‘political marriage’, is so barbaric. Nothing fills Megumi with quite as much rage as ruminating on that. So, he tries not to reflect on it as best he can.
Resenting his mother and father isn’t an option—not while he misses them with the kind of force that can leave him in tears. He cries on occasion—every couple of months or so. It’s scarcer of a phenomenon than the first year he was here, though. He’d choke up every other night, missing the hell out of his omega mother.
“I’m sure all kinds of weird hormonal stuff can happen when an omega spends every second of every day yearning over an alpha that’s less than fifty feet away,” Nobara says, gently smiling. She puts her hands on her hips, maternal-almost, the picture of who Megumi misses the most. “I’m worried about you.”
Megumi scoffs.
“You’ve only said that a million times today. I’ve already told you, I’m fine, Nobara.”
“Jeez, you’re on one today.” She offers her hand—wiggling it in Megumi’s direct line of sight until he grabs hold of it with an annoyed huff. As she hauls him to his feet, she says, “C’mon. Let’s go bother Maki. I heard a rumor that the new eyases were born last week.”
“Last week?” he echoes, and jumps the rest of the way up, pulling her along now. “I bet they’re unbelievably ugly.”
She follows along, letting herself be dragged. “I was waiting for you to wake up. I knew you’d never forgive me if I saw them before you.”
“You’d be correct. That’s an unforgivable offense. I might’ve even asked the Kamos to execute you for it.”
They hurry down the hall together, hand-in-hand, robes flapping behind them from the speed with which they move toward the back entrance to the manor. The east wing, where Megumi resides, is grand. The ceilings are high, with art pieces as expensive as Megumi’s dowry lining the interior.
The mews is directly behind the horse stable. It’s larger than most people’s homes, and it houses dozens of the Kamo Clan’s falcons. Megumi is down there often due to it being one of the only places he’s allowed to go outside of the manor (with supervision). That, and Megumi’s falcon, Nue, sleeps there. Noritoshi gave him Nue when he first arrived at the estate as a wedding gift.
Immediate adoration flooded Megumi when he first handled Nue. He was only three months old—not even mature enough to hunt yet. Noritoshi told him it was the most involved period of a falcon’s life. For weeks and weeks, Megumi spent hours a day training Nue to fly to his glove for food, returning on command, and desensitizing him to sudden noises or unfamiliar scents. It might sound dumb to the average person, but that bird is one of a select few that he can be his unadulterated self around. Suffice to say, alongside Nobara, Nue is his closest companion.
The mews is split up into two distinct sections. The portion that the birds sleep in is covered, keeping it dark, while the portion where the birds can perch during the day is in the sunlight. It’s rather dirty and smelly given the dozens of falcons that it houses, but it’s also where Megumi is most comfortable.
He’s jealous of birds in the way that most people wouldn’t understand.
Nue must sense his presence because upon entering the mews, he’s already flapping over, a delicate chit-chit-chit coming out of Nue’s throat.
“Hi, Nue,” Megumi coos when Nue lands on his forearm. Normally, a falcon’s talons are too sharp to hold them like this without a heavy leather glove, but Nue has always been careful. “Have you seen the babies yet?”
Maki comes out of the nursery with a fresh scratch on her cheek. “Through the screen. The mom’s a feisty one. She doesn’t even want me near her eyases.”
“Which bird is the mother?” Nobara asks as she strokes Nue’s breast feathers. “Is it Vesper or Bramble?”
“Neither,” Maki says, shaking her head. “It’s Freya. Never thought anyone would want to mate with that one, given her track record, but—“ She laughs and offers a shrug. “Guess even the aggressive ones need love.”
Wow. He never imagined a bird would echo so much of him back at himself.
Although Nue has taught him a thing or two or three about love throughout the years, so that also isn’t entirely true.
“I think she might be resting if you wanted to go in and see the babes,” Maki continues, and reopens the door to the nursery area of the mews. It’s tiny—warm. The smell is more tolerable. A large nest sits on the far side, and Megumi can hear the eyases before he sees them. “There are four ‘lil Peregrine Falcons in there—like Nue. I was actually rather happy it was Freya who had a brood rather than one of the Gyrfalcons. I didn’t think we’d have enough room for a brood from Vesper.”
Fluffy, white heads poke out of the nest—their little beaks chattering incessantly. They look like they’re covered in down, and Megumi resists the desire to reach out and pet them. Freya may be resting on her perch, but she is an animal he does not want to fuck with.
“They’re cuter than I thought they’d be,” Nobara says, but doesn’t step closer for a better view of them. “Megumi made me think they’d be hideous beasts.”
It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that Nobara brought him here as an excuse to flirt with the Master Falconer. Maki comes from the same clan as him, but came here a few years before he did on account of her propensity for falconry. The Zenins didn’t care much for the cost required to upkeep a proper mews, having run into substantial money issues in the last decade. It made the most financial sense to gut their mews and sell Maki for a reasonable price. Given Maki’s status as a female alpha, it was either that or resigning themselves to feeding and housing Maki for the rest of her life. No one is interested in female alphas beyond those with specialized skills.
It must be why Maki’s mother taught her to be such an esteemed Falconer. Megumi wouldn’t put it past the Zenin Clan to have gotten rid of her through other means if the opportunity presented itself. Naobito Zenin and his successor, Naoya Zenin, were pieces of shit like that.
He steps back, nodding to Freya in approval.
“You make some shockingly cute eyases,” he informs her, bowing his head out of respect. Then, he turns toward Maki. “Are they all staying here once they’re grown?”
“Dunno,” Maki replies, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. “It’s not like we have the room, but I’d hate to give them away. I was hoping to give you one, Megumi. You did a fantastic job with Nue. I couldn’t have trained him better myself.”
A blush colors Megumi’s cheeks, but he hides it as best he can. “Thanks, Maki. I wouldn’t mind having another one. I’d have to ask Noritoshi, though.”
“Fuck that,” she spits with enough vitriol that even Freya takes note of it, her wings twitching as she screeches at Maki. “You don’t need to ask your husband whether you can have another falcon. Fuck that.”
“I’m sure he wouldn’t mind,” Nobara says, as if she isn’t agreeing because she would acquiesce with anything that comes out of Maki’s mouth. “He’s got bigger things to worry about than that, ‘Gumi.”
“Until his mother gets in his ear and tells him he ought to remind me of my place,” he says, unable to withhold the bitterness there. “Like she doesn’t know what it’s like to marry into this clan—to be an omega stuck in an arranged marriage with someone she doesn’t love.”
“Shh,” Nobara says, and clamps her hand over his mouth. “Don’t speak so loud. Someone will hear you.”
He smacks her hand away and, louder this time, says, “I don’t care. I don’t love my husband. Half the time, I don’t even like him. And his fucking mother.”
Maki stares at Nobara helplessly, throwing her hands like she’s entrusting Nobara to handle it. Before Nobara and he became as close as they are, Maki was the one who’d deal with Megumi’s outbursts. Not that these outbursts aren’t warranted—but they’re definitely not allowed under the Kamo Clan’s roof.
For the first six months of Megumi’s stay, he assumed that Nobara was reporting every word he said back to Noritoshi’s mom, Kumori. Come to find out, the walls have ears, and they’re very adept at listening.
“Would you like to bring Nue out?” Nobara asks with a certain hopefulness. A certain please, shut the fuck up before I strangle you.
Megumi crosses his arms across his chest—horribly childish.
“I thought I wasn’t allowed out in the gardens.”
“I’ve changed my mind,” she responds, complete with an indignant sniff. “I think the fresh air would do you good.”
Finally.
He nods, grabbing the leather glove, jesses, lure, and hood—hands shaking. He hasn’t been properly outside in weeks—Kurai’s orders. That bitch didn’t want to risk Megumi being exposed to other people while they’re still unsure when his impending heat will start.
Nue’s keks amplify as he watches Megumi slip the leather glove on. He hops on the leather, knowing the drill by now. The jesses are tied onto Nue’s leg next. Megumi uses one hand—having done it so many times, he could do it in his sleep. Finally, the hood. He adjusts it a couple of times, making sure that it’s simultaneously snug and comfortable.
For a falcon, Nue has always displayed a calmer demeanor than his siblings, but only with Megumi.
The sun shines down in bright yellow casts—so bright that the grass reflects it back into Megumi’s field of vision. Squinting, they trek toward one of the back clearings of the estate—a wide patch of meadow with patches of blue and purple flowers. He appreciates that this portion has not been touched by anyone. Whether that’s at the behest of the Kamo Clan or at the urging of the gardener is impossible to say.
“You’re going to get your clothing dirty,” Nobara says, winded, practically jogging to keep up with his pace. “And guess who has to clean them?”
He almost doesn’t justify that with a response.
“Not you, Nobara.” As the distance between them and the clearing shrinks, Nue’s wings begin flapping, adjusting, then readjusting his perch position on Megumi’s arm. “You’re too important to be stuck with washing mud out of my clothes.”
A light breeze flows through the strands of Megumi’s hair, blowing sections skyward, made worse by the speed at which he’s moving. A fear burrows into his brain—one that tells him that Nobara could change her mind—could direct him back inside. She’d only do it if she had no other choice, yet it’s a toss-up whether he would listen. The fresh air is too irresistible to pass up. It tugs at his very soul. Feeds it.
“Absolutely not,” Nobara says, correcting him. “I’d be dragging your ass down to the river and making you scrub them until those robes are as clean as the day you got them.”
In the middle of the meadow, Megumi removes Nue’s hood and jesses, grinning as he watches the falcon take off. He turns to Nobara, cheerful, jovial, even. The buoyancy in his step is undeniable to anyone with eyes as he points to Nue, soaring high in the sky.
“Why would I give a shit about that when I can feel the grass brushing my ankles? When I get to watch Nue fly?”
Megumi’s external displays of joy are so rare that when they happen, it’s contagious. His best friend follows suit, mirroring his delight—his fragile joy. That’s how they spend the rest of the afternoon together, soaking up the last of the sun’s rays, giving Nue his much-needed exercise, until dusk settles in, forcing them back into the manor.
“Why did you name your falcon Nue?” she asks once they exit the mews, meandering back to Megumi’s room. Taking their sweet time.
“Do you want the long answer or the short one?”
Nobara hums, feigning deliberation, and says, “The in-between option. The medium answer.”
Not one of the proffered options, but alright. Megumi can groove with that.
“My mother used to read me stories about the Nue. They’re chimeric creatures—part monkey, part tiger, part snake, with a bird-like head. They were said to bring misfortune and illness,” Megumi explains, deflating the closer he gets to the brick structure—knowing a great nothingness awaits him inside. “I loved those stories. I especially loved the nature of the Nue. Feared. Ominous. Whenever I was hollow with fear—petrified of the dark—I would imagine a Nue was there, protecting me. I guess…I still like to pretend. It’s just not the dark I’m fearful of anymore.”
“Oh.”
That’s the sole reaction she gives him. It must be out of a kind of speechlessness—of not knowing what to say—of having nothing to say because nothing will make it right.
Later that night, she lies in bed with him, arm hooked around his chest. She prefers to be the big spoon, and although he’d never admit to it, he favors it that way. Having Nobara’s nose against his neck—the subtle warmth of her breath on his skin—makes life a little better.
“Noritoshi’s coming home next week,” she whispers to him—yet so, so piercing in the dark. “Didn’t wanna tell you earlier and ruin your afternoon.”
Megumi yawns and grabs hold of Nobara’s arm, wrapping her body more firmly around his own.
“Nothing could’ve ruined today.”
And even if that isn’t necessarily true, the lie feels right.
xxx
The next day is much the same as every other day before that. Megumi gets up, stares out of the window at the alpha, goes downstairs for breakfast with his mother in law and tries not to bite her head off, goes back upstairs to stare out of the window some more, eats lunch with Nobara in his room, reads a book, has dinner with his mother in law and his father in law and they try not to bite his head off, takes a bath, and then puts on his comfiest lounge wear.
The difference tonight is the humming beneath his skin. The interference messing with his frontal lobe—his rational mind. He’s diagnosing himself with stir-craziness, and the best medicine for that is escaping this manor.
Just for the night. He’ll slip in and out. No one will notice his absence.
There’s a sturdy trellis right outside his window. Durable enough that he can climb down it safely, and then climb back up it at the end of his escapade.
Fuck his heat. Fuck his husband. And most importantly, fuck the Kamo Clan.
After Nobara checks on him for the last time tonight, he puts his plan into action. Pulling on his slippers, he carefully creeps toward the window—cracking it open bit by bit, lest anyone hear the creak of it.
Although that’s probably just the paranoia talking.
The trellis is easy enough to descend, and he even stops to sniff the jasmine.
That’s what he smells like—night-blooming jasmine. Cestrum Nocturnum. Their scent is most potent at night. Hence the name.
When there’s finally solid ground beneath his feet, he resists cheering.
His confidence? Boosted after he managed not to so much as get a splinter. His plan, though? Nonexistent.
As he turns around and is confronted with the entire estate stretched out before his eyes, he no longer knows what to do. Should he go left? Right? Forward? Back? He hasn’t had the opportunity to make these decisions for himself in years.
It’s strange. Daunting.
There’s a brief moment where he contemplates climbing back inside, shutting the window, and erasing this experience from his memory. Pretend he didn’t taste freedom for ten seconds before giving it back.
That would be the coward’s route, and Megumi isn’t a coward.
The half moon hangs low as he prowls along the side of the wall, careful to avoid the spots that he knows are frequent patrol paths. The guards hardly venture out into the gardens—content to enjoy their cushy jobs inside the manor. So, that’s where Megumi will start.
The main garden path is lined with dozens of different flowers in dozens of different colors. It’s breathtaking, being this close to them—and Megumi is careful to squat down next to each one, taking in their fragrance, touching the fragile petals with the soft pads of his fingers, aware that he won’t get this chance again for a long while.
He thinks he’s blissfully alone until a voice disrupts him—
“Shouldn’t be out here this late, little lord.”
Megumi startles, like a bucket of ice water was thrown on him. Panicked, he whips his head toward the sound, his stomach dropping.
There—in all his glory—is the alpha Megumi has been stalking for months.
What the fuck?
Megumi wants to say what are you doing here? Megumi wants to ask him am I dreaming? Instead, he stands there, frozen in place.
The worst, most awful, sickening, appalling part is, the alpha is as attractive in the face as he is everywhere else. Oooh, god has favorites. And this alpha is undoubtedly one of them.
“Megumi,” is the first thing that comes out of his mouth.
The alpha’s head tilts.
“Megumi?”
A nod—
“That’s my name. Not little lord.”
“Megumi,” the alpha repeats—tasting it. Savoring it. His eyes move down Megumi’s frame, taking him in.
He squirms under the scrutiny. The intensity of it.
“What’s your name?”
“Yuuji Itadori.” The alpha takes a step forward. It isn’t threatening by any means. Just…imposing. Commanding in the way that an alpha is for an omega.
A distinct ache pangs in the deepest section of Megumi’s brain stem. It’s like he’s simultaneously atop a cloud and under a heavy weight. The omega in him wants to reach out—already desiring this alpha in ways that are cosmic—destined.
He’s beautiful under the moonlight—the shadows highlighting the space carved out beneath his cheekbones. Wide brown eyes that seem to stare into the depths of Megumi’s soul. Almost as if Yuuji could read his DNA.
The lack of a secondary scent alongside Yuuji’s caramelized honey scent seems to indicate that he’s unmated. But that can’t be right. The alpha appears to be in his late 20s or early 30s, gorgeous, kind…how has he not been snatched up by an omega yet? Or even a beta, for that matter.
Not that a beta would have any luck taking a knot from an alpha like this. There’s no way he’d be satisfied with anyone except an omega.
An omega like…Megumi.
“What’re you doin’ outside so late, Megumi?”
He shivers at the sound of his name on the alpha’s tongue—praying that his body won’t start slicking. The suppressants should still prevent it, and so far they have. Megumi’s attraction toward this alpha is on a need-to-know basis. It would be catastrophic if anyone except Nobara found out. Triply so if it were Yuuji.
“I’m on a midnight stroll,” Megumi replies, dipping his head. “It’s a secret. I wouldn’t mind if you accompanied me as long as you can keep one of those.”
The alpha smiles—tender-like—and Megumi’s brain melts. It knocks the world out of focus—knocks the oxygen right out of his lungs. That saccharine aroma coils around everything else, and briefly, his body forgets how to hold itself together. The sinews and muscles and bones collapsing. Oh, wow. This is what it’s about. Life. Existence.
Yuuji’s gaze softens substantially, pupils dilating, like he’s witnessing something precious. It sets Megumi’s heart into a frenzy, punching against his ribcage, his knees weakening. Not enough to fall, but enough to be certain that he could not walk in a straight line. Not even if he had a gun to his head.
“It would be an honor,” Yuuji says, his head dipping to match Megumi’s. So polite and respectful in how he bends lower—a sign of recognition and reverence. “I usually don’t keep secrets, but for you, I would keep a thousand.”
“If I had a thousand secrets, I’d trust them with you.”
As he comes nearer, he notices a splash of pink on Yuuji’s cheeks under the candle-soft glow of the night sky. He’s flustered, Megumi realizes. Downright endearing—trouble-level cute.
Suddenly, Megumi is fascinated by the color pink again.
“You’re new,” Megumi says as they begin their stroll down one of the many sprawling trails. “You started two seasons ago after the old groundskeeper died.”
They walk by a bush of orange flowers—pretty and daisy-like in their appearance. Megumi almost asks what type it is, the name having slipped his mind, but the words dry up in his throat when he hears the next words out of Yuuji’s mouth.
“He was my grandfather.”
“Oh.” His heart cracks from the heavy pain in Yuuji’s voice. The weighted sorrow that comes from losing someone terribly close. “I’m sorry to hear that. I didn’t interact with him much, but I know he was a hard worker and an honest man.”
Yuuji gives a sad smile. “That’s what everyone says. They’re right, too. He raised my older brother and me before he came to work here. Made a promise with the head of the Kamo Clan that they’d hire me after he passed away. That old bastard was still plannin’ on lookin’ after me in death, as much as he did in life.”
What a blessing it must have been to have someone who cares that much. Who didn’t send Yuuji away because of his sex when he could have fetched a decent price for him. It’s becoming increasingly rare nowadays to find a family that doesn’t auction off their omega and alpha children to the highest bidder.
“How long have you been here?” Yuuji asks and guides him by the small of his back in the direction of a path that branches off from the main one. He isn’t actually touching Megumi, just hovering, enough so that the heat of Yuuji’s hand can be felt through the thin fabric of his shirt.
It drives him up the wall—the tease of it. Touch me. Please. God, please, touch me.
“Three years.” He sighs. Walks a little slower. “Three long years.”
The crickets chirp in the background as though agreeing with him—soft trills that echo across each corner of the garden—an orchestra of subtle music. It tickles the inside of his ear, and he focuses on it to calm the rising anger in his chest. How dare these assholes hold him hostage? How dare they make him lose himself in that homely, vacant, soulless manor?
“You don’t like it here?”
Megumi suppresses his laugh in time—though that bitterness sticks to the back of his throat.
“You wouldn’t like it here if you were me,” Megumi replies, kicking a stray pebble into the bushes. It clatters against the cobblestone path until it lands in the dirt. “Locked up with nowhere to go and nothing to do. They won’t let me walk the gardens or go anywhere that isn’t a doctor’s appointment to check on my fertility. The only solace I have is my handmaiden and my falcon.”
A stretch of time passes, and just as Megumi begins regretting the harshness with which he spoke, Yuuji says, “That does seem unbearably lonely. Is that your husband’s doing? Shouldn’t he want you to be happy?”
Megumi shrugs—a flare of irritation burning his insides.
“I don’t know what Noritoshi wants, but I think—no, I know—that I come second to his mother’s wishes. She’s never liked me. Not since the first day I met her.”
There’s no rhyme or reason for it, either. Megumi has racked his memories constantly since that day, trying and trying to unlock the piece of the puzzle that will explain Noritoshi’s mother’s inexplicable problem with him.
“Really?” Yuuji asks, like he can’t believe it. A certain incredulity clouding his voice. “I find you impossible not to like.”
Oh.
Yuuji’s compliment hits him like a whip—sharp—so incisive that it lacerates. Megumi’s body responds before his mind even catches up. A flush rises, his breathing stutters. And worse, his scent changes. Warm. Fragile. A touch too sweet.
Yuuji stiffens beside him, his muscles noticeably locking up. Not from fear, though…More like instinct.
“Megumi,” he murmurs, and oh, it sounds so candied—so syrupy through his teeth. “You’re…your scent—are you okay?”
Properly mortified, Megumi clamps a hand over his mouth like that will stop anything. As if his scent will stop relinquishing his truest self with that action. It’s so strong that even Megumi is overwhelmed.
To keep up with appearances, he decides to lie.
“I’m fine.”
No, I’m not. Rather, something inside of him opens like a wound. A want he’s spent years and years and years suppressing. If his willpower is the dam, then Yuuji is the bomb. The equivalent of a nuke with which Megumi’s body is betraying him.
“Let me just…walk a little ahead of you,” Yuuji says, voice strained. He averts his eyes, jaw tightening with the effort of his control. “Just for a moment. Until it settles.”
Oh, god. Megumi hates it. Hates how his heart leaps. Hates how his body warms at the idea that Yuuji can smell him react. How it’s affecting him.
Yet he also loves it. Loves it enough to hope that the alpha continues to smell him, even as he walks a pace ahead. How effortless things might feel if he were with someone built to read him in the air itself, catching every shift in him before he has to find the words. They could be like two halves of a whole—attuned in a way that only soulmates could ever hope to be. When language inevitably fails Megumi, he would not have to rely on it. He could simply trust that his lover would understand—would know.
“I’m sorry,” Megumi says, pace faltering. “I will try to keep it under control.”
So, so accustomed to apologizing for what he can’t ever hope to subjugate, he’s shocked when he hears Yuuji say, “What’re you sayin’ sorry for? Not like you can help it. I should be the one apologizin’ for any kind of scent that I may give off tonight.”
Megumi shakes his head—suddenly bashful. “You can’t help it either, alpha. Besides, I trust you.”
Trust. Probably a stupid thing to so readily hand over to an unknown alpha, but there’s an indisputable gentleness there. An element of safety with the idea that whatever Megumi gives to Yuuji, it will be honored and valued. Yuuji is respectful; that much is clear.
Yuuji’s lips part slightly, his eyes sparkling with what can only be described as pure wonder. His pupils blow wide—his scent, previously restrained—depeens for a second into something richer and darker.
“That’s, uh—that’s dangerous,” Yuuji admits, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sayin’ you trust me like that.” He gives a weak laugh. “‘Specially when I’m tryin’ real hard not to crowd you.”
Crowd me, crowd me, crowd meeeee. Honestly, Megumi might fucking die. He feels those words like a blade slipping between his ribs, like an acute skewer through the unarmored skin he keeps hidden. The easy-to-bruise parts. The parts that his husband or his family will never get the pleasure of viewing. The parts he is saving for someone who matters—someone like—
you.
The snap of a branch startles him out of his thoughts.
The hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, jolting him back until the back of his foot gets caught on a branch or a bush or whatever the fuck it is, until he falls into a pair of arms that are not Yuuji’s. Yuuji’s hand shoots out, then crumples when he makes eye contact with whoever is behind him.
Given Megumi’s overstimulated nervous system, it takes entirely too long for him to realize who snuck up on them.
“What’re you doing?” Nobara says in his ear, an undercurrent of panic in the way her mouth is shaping those words—something that spells how worried she is to find him out like this. “I went to check on you, and you weren’t there, Megs. You weren’t there. And I go out to find you, and find you like this. With him? Are you fucking nuts? What do you think would happen if it were one of the guards, or god forbid, fucking Kurai finds you out here like this? With an alpha?”
Megumi unglues himself from the front of Nobara’s body, yet still, there’s a stickiness between them, an invisible string that follows, similar to the sensation of when he’d rip two sheets of wet paper apart. Or prying apart two magnets that refuse to let go because it’s atomically impossible.
With Nobara’s hands on him, Yuuji’s scent flares—something not necessarily aggressive, but more akin to mine. protect. mineminemine. It envelops Megumi, expanding around him like a zone of safety—instantly relaxing him and raising his hackles. How is it possible to experience these two seemingly dichotomous actions side-by-side?
Yuuji immediately forces it down, his jaw clenched, eyes round with a thought as translucent as fuck, I didn’t mean to do that.
Yet, all the same, Megumi feels it licking down his spine—the heat—the want. Nobara drags him further back, reacting out of a hint of fear and a shit ton of anger. Betas aren’t normally able to produce scents in the same way that omegas and alphas can, so the fact that Megumi can smell the apprehension on her is impressive.
“Back off,” she barks, the pressure of her hand tightening around Megumi’s elbow. “Don’t get any closer, alpha. Or I’ll—” She pauses. Swallows. Megumi listens to her throat work around the undeveloped threat—momentarily speechless. “I’ll fucking destroy you.”
Don’t destroy this alpha, pleasepleaseplease. Be nice, Nobara. Be so, so, so nice to this wonderful alpha who can make love to me throughout my next heat, and give me an army of pups—one, two, three, four—
Oh, Megumi is drooling at this point, teeth bared as he fights against the death grip that Nobara maintains on his arm. Somehow, someway, Yuuji is able to resist the instinct to snap out of his steely determination and not jump Megumi’s bones atop the coolness of the earth—bury Megumi in the mud as he ruts into him, knot catching on his rim until it locks in, releasing so much come that it’s sliding down his thighs days and days and days later…
Pups inside his womb, so strong and capable and boyishly cute, like their father—the alpha within arm’s reach—
Another whine escapes his mouth, ringing out into the air and echoing off the trees.
Yuuji’s eyes widen substantially, and Megumi somehow discerns the way he trembles from dozens of feet away—the tremors wracking through his body as Megumi struggles helplessly against the strong grip that Nobara has on him—fierce in its hold.
“Please,” Megumi yelps, unsure what he’s asking for—
Please let this alpha knot me.
Please let me ruin my own damn life. Toss me aside.
Please, I need it I need it I need it I need it I need it.
“This is why I didn’t want you coming out here,” Nobara groans directly in his ear, never once faltering. “You’re impulsive, Megs. It’s how I knew to check on you tonight. I could sense the rebellion brewing.”
Megumi’s frontal lobe is aware that he’ll be thanking Nobara come sunrise, but his hindbrain…
“Listen to her, omega,” Yuuji says, stepping back once more, trailing off—eyes cast in every direction except Megumi’s. Fuck. Megumi could eat him—wants to devour him in every way that exists to consume. “This wasn’t a good idea. I apologize.”
And Megumi slumps into her arms at that—dead weight. Omega. Never had he liked that word until he heard it come out of Yuuji’s mouth. It’s not fair. He knows what that does to me. He knows, and it’s so fucking unfair, Megumi could scream. Wail.
“Move your fucking feet,” Nobara spits out and halts until he follows her orders, wheezing from the exertion. “We’re giving you a bath to wash off those alpha pheromones. Kurai will have a fit if she smells you. And if I can smell you, you bet your ass she can.”
“We didn’t even touch, there’s no way I smell like him,” Megumi responds, clipped, sniffing at his own sleeve for good measure.
Okay, perhaps there’s a little something there. Syrupy. Whatever. He’ll change his clothes. Big fucking deal.
The farther they trudge back, the more Megumi’s heart aches, his chest concave—split open—heart ready to be pulled out and feasted on. Yuuji has already retreated, no longer a blip in the distance.
He could’ve fought harder, a twisted portion of his brain supplies. Unhelpful, yet it lodges itself in Megumi’s cerebrum, like a hammer to a nail. He doesn’t want me. The rejection stings.
Nobara insists on camping outside the door as he draws himself a bath—the hot water incredible for the stiffness in his joints. The buzzing in his bones. The perfect backdrop to the inexorable reality that no matter how hard or long Megumi scrubs, there’s no eliminating the elusive change in Megumi’s scent.
Sweeter. Heavier. Harmonious.
Undetectable for a beta, but an alpha or an omega with a skilled nose…
Shit.
Will Kurai notice?
He’d bet gold that she won’t. Getting close enough to smell each other outside of formal events, where they are inclined to act like they respect one another, is not a part of their usual routine. The subtleties of a person’s scent are enigmatic. A close relationship is often required for anyone to discern the minute changes in another person. It’s like trying to detect a slightly off-key note on an instrument. A difficult task unless one plays that instrument on a consistent basis.
Point is, Kurai won’t notice shit.
It could simply be the suppressants dwindling—releasing the choke hold they’ve had on Megumi’s reproductive system for years. He can’t remember the last time he’s gotten a noseful of his pre-heat, heat, and post-heat scent.
It could be explained away by that. Or, it could be something much, much worse.